One of the most controversial and vitally important questions facing our modern society today is the complex relationship between what might be called a new permissiveness in contemporary standards of morality, and the alarming increase in marital problems: divorce, separations, and unhappy marriages. Whenever we pick up a magazine or a newspaper, it seems that these two phenomenon are being joined in a causal relationship the new morality usually being cast in the role of the villain, and being blamed for the increase in marital difficulties, as well as all manner of other ills that plague our modem world.
More often than not, this new morality is not examined closely enough to warrant a causal connection. What, after all, are we talking about when we talk about permissiveness? Certainly, the problem is too complicated to allow a cursory and incomplete interpretation; and yet, it is precisely this kind of treatment that causes the problem to become so confused in the mind of the general public. Just as certainly, the problem defies any generalized diagnosis: it must be considered in the light of every individual case it affects; it must be weighed against all the circumstances peculiar to the particular people involved.
Chapter One
"Christ, Jill, you're not going to unpack now, are you? I thought we were going down to the bar for a drink?"
"If I get it done now, it won't be any trouble later on," answered the beautiful young woman standing by the edge of the bed.
Tom Parker sighed with impatience, looked around the luxuriously decorated living room of the small resort cottage, and then lowered his tall, muscular frame into an armchair in the corner of the room, watching as his wife opened their suitcases and began to unpack. Tom's throat was parched after their long drive to Hidden Valley Resort, and he was really looking forward to that drink. His wife had been frustratingly disagreeable the whole trip, and this last bit of petulance only served to increase Tom's own irritation. He would have much preferred to leave his young wife at home for this week's trip, after all, it was supposed to be a business conference
but Harry Sommers, Tom's boss, had insisted that he bring Jill along and there had been nothing he could do. It was going to be a terrible week, Tom decided, and that unpleasant thought made him get up from the armchair and begin to pace the room impatiently.
"Look, Jill, it's hot as hell in here. We'll turn on the air conditioning, and by the time we get back, this place will be bearable."
"I'd rather get it done now, Tom," said Jill, in a tone that clearly showed her own impatience.
"But we agreed that before we did any unpacking, we'd go down to the bar. . ." Tom began with overbearing exaggeration.
"You go down to the bar if you want to," Jill said testily. "I'm going to unpack. And I want to get a shower and change clothes."
"What the hell do you have to change clothes for?"
"Because I want to! Is that all right with you?"
Tom stood staring at his wife, and then turned abruptly toward the door. "Jesus! This week is getting off to a fine start!" he said angrily.
"Well, that's not my fault, damn it!" Jill shot back at him. "Maybe if you tried treating me with a little .
"Oh, for God's sake, Jill, don't start, all right?"
"You're the one who started!"
Tom felt the blood rush to his face as he really became angry now, and he felt the tension from the long, five hour drive to the resort that day begin to escape his control. Before he lost his temper completely, he moved quickly to the front door of the cabin.
"I'll be down in the bar. . . but don't hurry down or anything!"
"I won't," Jill said, but her words were cut off by the slamming of the front door. As the sound of the footsteps on the gravel walkway died away, Jill sighed, and then moved across to throw herself into the armchair her husband had just vacated. She passed a hand across her face and then leaned wearily back into the softness of the plush armchair.
Jill Parker was a beautiful woman, there was no doubt about that. She was medium height and on the slender side, with breasts slightly larger than usual for her build, boyish hips, and long, finely sculptured legs. Her feet were small and her waist was waspish, highlighting her firm young
breasts even more so. Her face was oval and had high cheek bones, a pert, upturned nose, and almond shaped eyes with very dark, very deep pupils. Her lips were naturally full, red, rarely needing much lipstick, and they were relatively thin, although her lower lip curved outwards and down in a constant mock pout. Her satin textured skin was of a golden hue as though she had a tan the year around, and her honey blonde hair cascaded down over her shoulders to cameo her face in its silken softness. There was an air of independence in that face, and at first glance one might take her as being headstrong, impulsive, and full of the love for danger.
However, the surface appearance of Jill Parker was different than the young woman beneath. For all her functional, no-nonsense ways, there was still the child inside who needed to be comforted and tenderly encouraged and, yes, even protected. Jill Parker had fears and inhibitions and restraining ties which had made her life one long series of taboos. She couldn't do this, she didn't like to do that, she refused to do another. She was afraid of herself, a fear that dated back to her earliest childhood when her mother had raised her with the insistent use of a willow rod on the backsides, and father had gruffly rejected her tentative feelers for affection, since he hadn't wanted the girl in the first place.
In the hands of a kind, gentle, patient man, the childhood damage to Jill could probably have been undone in time. That man could have become a replacement father for the one she never had, and she could have trusted him and believed in what he directed her to do. Her mental legs, so long undernourished, would have been weak at first, but with care they could have grown strong until she would have been able to stand on her own two feet. But Tom Parker, for all his good points, was too young, too barren of experience, too impulsive to take that needed time. He only saw the surface, and consequently was distressed, hurt, and confused when she could not respond the way he had expected her to.
Yet who could blame him for not seeing his wife's weaknesses? She hid them well under a hard surface, and denied vehemently that she was anything, save what she seemed. Ironically, it was this same undercurrent of frailty which was both wrecking their marriage and keeping it together, for she fought for her marriage when a more independent woman would have decided that the marriage wasn't worth saving any longer. She couldn't afford to admit failure, not after the unconscious feeling that she had failed miserably as a child. For included in her fear of losing Tom was also the fear to really change into the full-blooded woman he desired. It was a vicious circle, and one that she hoped could be broken for good by going to Hidden Valley Resort.
Jill had been overjoyed that she'd been invited for this week's conference along with her husband, and had looked forward to it with eager anticipation. Tom's company, the Jamieson Advertising Agency, had reserved space in the luxurious resort for a whole week and Tom, as one of the agency's newest and best young account executives, had been invited to
the conference over a month ago. He hadn't been happy about bringing his wife along, Jill knew; but Harry Sommers, the president of Jamieson, had insisted all the executive's wives be present, and he'd had no choice. But all during the long drive up to the resort, Tom had made it clear to his beautiful young wife that he would much rather have used the week as a vacation from the tensions and general unpleasantness of their marriage.
They hadn't talked much on the five-hour drive, and when they did speak, it was to pick up on the small, petty quarrels that seemed to fill their days together now. Tom had been tense, and she had been unwilling to grant him the satisfaction of venting his irritation on her with impunity, and so they'd sat silent for the greater part of the trip, rather bearing that uncomfortable silence than taking the risk of another argument. And besides, nothing had to be said; their marriage had deteriorated to the point where words were useless vestiges and used more to hurt than to communicate. She had learned her husband's ways well enough to know what his irritability would mean for her tonight. She knew the scene which would happen as it had happened so many times over the last three years, and she dreaded it.
She knew that tonight, in the privacy of their room, Tom would come at her like an uncontrolled animal, demanding sex rapaciously, tearing into her with his lust-hardened penis without thought to her requirements or wishes, but only to use her as a receptacle for his scalding male seed. And she also knew of her complete inability to respond under such horrible, animalistic circumstances. She froze in terror at times like that, her vaginal passage always woefully unprepared and her legs locked in rejection. No, there was no tenderness, no affection, no "love" in it. It was.
what was the word Tom used? Yes. . . it was fucking. . . and that lewd word described exactly the nightmarish act of perversion which he perpetrated on her defenseless genitals.
Fuck . . . Jill shivered from the evilness of that foul, ugly monosyllable. She hated that word and what it stood for, but when she pleaded for Tom not to use it, he only laughed sardonically and called her frigid, a Goddamn icebox on legs with as much sex drive as an iron radiator. Their marital bed was a place to sleep and that was all, for as he became more frustrated with her unresponsiveness, the harsher he got; and the harsher he got, the less she was able to give of herself
Jill sighed a deep almost silent sigh of resignation, and got up to finish the unpacking. She knew, though she didn't want to admit it, that her hopes that the week at Hidden Valley Resort might act as some kind of catalyst for the salvation of her marriage, were ridiculously impossible. No, this week would be like any other week, full of resentment, anger, incriminations, recriminations. Jill knew that there was only one answer, however painful that answer was. Unless this week miraculously brought an end to the pain and frustration of their marriage, she knew that divorce
was the only way out. And she wondered, reluctantly, whether that would upset her husband in the least.
*
*
*
Tom Parker made his way into the crowded bar, and glanced around at the casually dressed crowd. The room was cool and dark, a welcome change from the almost unbearable heat of the day outside. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, he made out his boss, Harry Sommers, and a beautiful woman lounging at one end of the bar.
"Hey there, Tom old boy, come on in and have a drink!" Harry Sommers voice was loud and a little strident as he caught sight of Tom and called to him across the room.
The young ad executive made his way through the jumble of cocktail tables, and smiled widely as he came up to the couple, sticking out his hand to grasp tightly that of Harry Sommers, president of Jamieson Advertising.
"Tom, this is my wife, Gay. I don't think you've met."
"Sure we have, Harry, you fool. At Will Bennet's party. Remember?" Gay Sommers' voice was smooth and lilting, like a cool drink on a hot day. "How are you, Tom?"
"Just fine, Mrs. Sommers. How are you?"
"Oh my, `Mrs. Sommers.' " Gay teased. `We're not at the office now, are we?"
Tom laughed, and leaned across to the beautiful brunette. "All right, I get the message. But you never know what putting people on a first name basis can do. You know, familiarity breeds contempt."
Gay laughed gaily, and hooked her hand around Tom's muscular arm. "Well, what do you say we risk it?" she giggled.
"Hey, watch it now!" Harry Sommers laughed, "That's my wife you're getting familiar with."
"Don't pay any attention to him, Tom. He's just jealous," Gay smiled, with something secret playing around behind her eyes. Her husband smiled back at her, and then turned to his young account executive again.
"Say, Tom, where's Jill?"
"Oh, she's unpacking, I think."
"Hell, you mean you put her to work while you go out drinking? Now there's a man after my own heart."
"No, I. . . I told her to come on down," Tom said, "But she wanted to get all unpacked first. She'll be down in a little while."
"Great, great! We've got to go unpack ourselves. But we may be back down later on." Harry said.
"Can't I buy you a drink or something?" Tom offered.
"No, we've really got to get settled in . . ." Harry's voluptuous wife smiled, "But thanks anyway."
"All right, I'll see you later, then." Tom smiled at them as they got up from their stools. "But meanwhile, I'm going to get me something to wash five hours of driving down my throat."
"Nice to meet you again, Tom," Gay Sommers said in a sudden throaty voice as her husband walked to the other end of the bar to pay their check. "I hope I get to see a lot of you this week."
Tom paused. Was it his imagination, or was there a hidden meaning somewhere in the tone of voice Gay was using? God, it sounded almost as if she were suggesting that he and she. . . No! It must be his imagination.
"I hope so too, Gay," he smiled, and then watched after her as she moved across the crowded room and joined her husband by the door. Her hips moved provocatively against the thin material of her light dress, and her smoothly rounded buttocks danced in rhythm to the graceful tempo of her walk.
Hell, she must be a holy terror in bed, Tom thought to himself, and then raised his hand to return Gay's wave as she and Harry left the bar. Turning to sit on the stool she'd just left, Tom let his mind wander through fleeting visions of Gay Sommers and then laughed at himself All he needed to do was get involved with the boss's wife.
Tom signaled the bartender, thought a moment, and then ordered a gin and tonic. That ought to take the heat of the day and cool it off some. As he waited for his drink, he thought again of Gay Sommers, only this time his mind moved quickly to uncomfortable images of his own wife, Jill. When they'd married, he had loved her deeply; but that seemed like a thousand years ago now, and a lot of things had happened in the three years of living together. They were incompatible, that's all; unable to adjust to one another's needs socially or sexually, and no amount of trying to start over was going to change that fact.
Tom knew that Jill considered this week as yet another chance to try to bring about a reconciliation, and it irritated him. It was too late for that kind of innocent romanticism. It wasn't going to work. He knew it in his bones. There was just too much wrong with their life as man and wife to have Hidden Valley Resort cure it in a week. Not that he disliked Jill, he assured himself He still had feelings for her, and he hoped the best for her. She was good-looking enough to snare another man without too much trouble -- one who had a sex-drive which needed fulfilling one night a month. But Tom knew that he just couldn't take it much longer. It was bad enough having a wife who was cold as an iceberg. It was intolerable when she blamed him for it, though.
Tom was on his second drink when he looked up into the mirror that ran the length of the wall behind the bar, and saw his wife standing in the front entrance. He didn't turn around, but waited until she had spotted him across the room, and came over to sit beside him on the high bar stool. He didn't speak first.
"Darling, why don't we sit at a table, these things are terribly uncomfortable." Jill said hesitantly.
"Hell, they're all right."
"Please darling"
Tom cursed under his breath, as though her request were totally irrational and demanded a great effort to satisfy, and stood up from his stool, gathering his drink in his hand. Quickly, Jill climbed off her stool, and followed him across the room to an empty table. As she walked, she noticed her husband's large, powerfully built neck and arms, the legacy of a brief but successful career as a collegiate gymnast. His tall, lean frame moved easily through the tangle of small tables, and Jill noticed his muscular body drawing the covetous glances of many of the women in the bar. It was always like this, though, wherever she went with her husband. Tom's handsome, almost innocently open face had caused him to be the target of many a willing girl's schemes before his marriage; and now, Jill had to admit, things hadn't really changed that much. As far as she knew, Tom had always been faithful to her, but her innate doubts and fears were continually convincing her that her husband's recurring dissatisfaction with her might easily lead him into the arms of another woman. They sat down at a little table in the corner of the room, and Tom signaled the waitress. Jill really didn't want anything to drink, but she ordered anyway, knowing that it angered Tom if she didn't drink along with him.
Jill's husband didn't talk very much, and when he did it was only to offer some new complaint about that afternoon's ride, or about Jill herself Tom carefully reserved his complimentary opinions for the occasional appearance of a bikini-clad beauty who would come into the bar from the swimming pool to get a drink. His comments about the girls were both crude and admiring; he often talked about the way other girls looked and acted in front of his wife, knowing it bothered her. It was a sort of constant underhanded dig at her as though she needed to be continually reminded that she wasn't wife enough for him.
Tom drank heavily, and Jill matched him. If she didn't, then he would sit and stare at her impatiently until she had drained her glass and they could reorder. He would not buy a drink for himself alone. Jill found herself getting high quite soon, and no wonder. Neither had eaten since breakfast, they had been keyed up all day and were now exhausted.
The atmosphere between them was strained and brittle, like a finely charged high tension wire, ready to explode at any moment. The silence wasn't even so much a result of that day's irritation as it was the cumulative result of all the arguments and tension that had occurred in the past; cumulative because Tom and Jill never really settled an argument, or cleared the air. Because of their inability to communicate, the void between them was left charged with all the bitterness and acrimony of past campaigns, lost and won, and this in turn left open wounds that were easily inflamed by the slightest word or deed.
"Tom, darling, can we get some dinner, please? These drinks are really going to my head."
"Christ, Jill, we just got here. Let me relax a minute, OK?"
You've been here at least twenty minutes."
Tom cursed under his breath, looked away across the room, and then back at his wife.
"You go get yourself some dinner if you want, but don't start nagging me, all right?" he spat at her.
"I wasn't nagging, darling, I only said. . ." Jill started.
"I know what you said, so why don't you just button it up!"
Jill lowered her eyes to her lap, and tried to fight off the tears that threatened suddenly to spring into her eyes, Why, oh why, was it always like this? Why couldn't they be happy and uncomplicated? Why did they have to insult, dig at, and humiliate each other all the time? Why couldn't they just be easy with each other?
"You can become a nag," Tom continued relentlessly, `the minute you become a wife, but not before. Understand?"
"Please, Tom.
"I tell you what," Tom said, a sadistic leer crossing his face. "I'll give you a chance to be a wife right now. How about going back to the cottage and seeing if these drinks have thawed you out at all?"
"Go back to . . . ?" Jill stammered, looking up fearfully.
"Sure. Seeing all this tail around here has made me horny as hell. Let's go back to the room and fuck! Now!" Tom grinned evilly as he saw the reaction his words had on his wife.
A slight tremor of agony rippled through Jill. There was nothing she wanted to do less right now than to submit to her husband's violent lovemaking. And now, it would even be worse than usual, because he was slightly drunk, and that caused him to be even more demanding, more cruel than he normally was. Jill searched her brain to find a way to postpone the inevitable moment when she would be forced to bend before his irrational lust.
"Well, what about it?" Tom rambled on, enjoying the torment he knew he was putting his wife through. "Are you going to be a dutiful wife and take care of my great big hard-on, or not?"
"Tom, please. . . you know I want to try to please you, but can't we get something to eat first? Then, if you want.
"Please me?" Tom interrupted. "I don't want you to please me for God's sake! I want you to please us both, don't you understand that? I want to have you enjoy my loving, be excited by it, be . . . " Tom stared into the unresponsive eyes of his wife, and gave up trying to explain his feelings to her. After all, he'd tried many times before, to no avail. And he could still see the same look in her face, the look that told him she thought he was a beast simply for wanting to have a meaningful sexual relationship with his wife.
"Oh, to hell with it!" he finally stated flatly. "You don't understand and you never will. You think sex is something dirty, and completely separated from love. Well, it isn't . . . but you're too Goddamned frigid to realize that."
"Tom, please," Jill began, "It's not that .
"It is that, sweet little wife of mine. You're a lousy piece of tail, and you always will be!"
With that biting insult, Tom got up and pushed his chair back from the table, motioning to a cocktail waitress across the room.
"Tom, where are you going?"
"Out, baby . . . Just out. Maybe I can find a little action around this place. It's a cinch I'm not going to find it with you!"
"Tom!"
The waitress came over, and before Jill could say anything more, Tom had given her instructions to serve his wife whatever she wanted and to put it on his room bill, and then he was gone, disappearing out the door without so much as a backward look in Jill's direction. Jill sat, stunned, not able to believe what he had just said. He was going to find a little action? The depth of the insult only gradually made itself clear to Jill's liquor-fogged brain.
"What can I get you, deane?"
The voice brought Jill's mind back to the present, and her eyes came up to meet those of the smiling waitress. She didn't answer right away.
"If you'll pardon my suggesting something," said the waitress gently, "a little Drambuie always helps calm you down."
"Yes . . . yes please, that will be fine," Jill answered vaguely, hardly aware of what the girl was saying. In no time Jill found a slender glass in front of her, filled with the thick, rich drink.
"There you are deane, that will settle you down."
Jill picked up the glass and sipped it, and was pleasantly surprised by the drink's good taste.
"That's fine," she said to the waitress. "Thank you very much."
The waitress smiled again understandingly, and left, leaving Jill to her thoughts. Tears of anguish began to form in the young wife's beautiful eyes, and a choking sob threatened to force itself out of her tortured throat. It was no good. It was all over, she knew that now. There was no hope for her marriage, and she was suddenly reluctant to even try any more. Her life seemed to be lying in pieces around her, all her hopes and dreams shattered into a thousand pieces impossible to ever repair. And it was all her fault . . she wouldn't blame Tom if he went off with another woman tonight . . and never came back.
The smarting insults of her husband filled her brain, convincing her that she was frigid, did think lovemaking was sick and depraved, never had allowed herself to experience the joys of sex. She was a prude, like Tom always said, and not fit for the love of any man.
"Mrs. Parker?"
The gentle voice surprised Jill, and she looked up to find herself looking up into the kindly face of a man about forty-five years old, fairly short and stocky, with a little mustache lining the crevice of his upper lip. Somehow the man looked vaguely familiar.
"I'm not sure you know me, Mrs. Parker, but I'm Harry Sommers."
Of course, the president of Jamieson Advertising! Jill made an attempt to compose herself into some semblance of normality.
"Oh yes. . . yes, Mr. Sommers. . . how do you do?"
"Oh, I'm just fine. I recognized you, believe it or not, from the photograph on your husband's desk at work. Do you mind if I sit down?"
"Well, I. . . I was just leaving Mr. Sommers. . . "Jill began.
"Call me Harry, all right? And if you don't mind, I'll call you Jill. It makes everything less formal." The older man's eyes were shining, taking in every curve of his employee's beautiful young wife.
"Of course . . . Harry " Jill managed unwilling to let him see how upset she was. "I'd love to sit and talk, but I'm really very tired from the trip and. . . and I've got to get unpacked and everything.
"I thought Tom said you had already unpacked," Harry smiled
"Oh, you've seen Tom?"
"Yes, we were here in the bar when he came in.
"Oh . . . well. I didn't quite finish before I came down, and . . . Jill's voice trailed off in confusion, and there was an uncomfortable pause in their conversation.
`Well, then, I'll walk you back to your cottage?" Harry offered, coming around Jill to hold her chair.
"Oh no, you don't have to do that . . .!" But when she stood, Jill staggered and she realized she had had more to drink than she thought. "Oh my, I'm a little unsteady."
"Yes, you certainly are," said Harry, quickly taking her arm with one hand. "Let me help you. It's no trouble at all, believe me."
Jill was suddenly thankful for her husband's boss's help as she recognized that she was, in fact, drunk, and without noticing it, she leaned against him as they made their way to the door of the bar. They made their way out of the main lodge, and into the glare of the summer sun outside. As they began the walk to Jill's cottage, Harry suddenly spoke.
"I hope you'll pardon me for asking, but you seemed kind of down in the dumps back there."
Jill hesitated, and tried to control her voice.
"Oh it was nothing . . . really," she answered with difficulty.
"Tom was in the bar when we left," Harry said carefully, looking down at the voluptuously ripened body of his employee's wife with obvious appreciation. "Didn't he wait for you?"
And suddenly without meaning to, Harry's words caused a sob to rise in Jill's throat. She tried to catch it, failed, and found herself crying out loud. She must be drunk! She was making a fool of herselfi
"Why Jill, what's the matter?" said Harry, with apparent concern in his voice.
"Nothing . . . really. . . nothing . . ." But she was unable to stem the weeping now that it had begun, and leaning heavily upon Harry Sommer's strong arm, she sobbed out her anguish and torment. He moved his arm around her slender shoulders, and tried to comfort her.
"Look," he said, "There's something that's troubling you deeply. Let's go to my cottage and talk about it."
"No. . . I couldn't, My. . . husband would mind that, I'm sure."
"Would you want Tom to see you like this?" prodded Harry, with a strange insistency.
In a burst of honesty, Jill blurted, "He . . . he's probably not in anyway. I don't know where he is."
"Ah, the truth will win out," smiled Harry gently. "I thought as much. I saw you with Tom in the lounge, and when he walked away and then you started to cry, I just couldn't let the matter rest. Please . . . trust me. It's not only because Tom is an employee of mine . . . I want to help because you two seem like such great kids."
The tortured, beaten girl nodded mutely and as though drugged, she allowed Harry to lead her to his own cottage. Entering the front door, she almost toppled onto the small couch, and then she hung her head, burying her face in her tiny, trembling hands. "Oh, Mr. Sommers. I don't know what to do" she wailed in a broken slurred voice.
"Call me Harry," he urged, sitting down next to her. He took one tightly clenched fist and uncurled her fingers and placed a tumbler in her hand. "Here. more Drambuie. I saw that the waitress had given some to you and she was right. It does help soothe."
Jill was unsure whether she should have any more to drink. She already had consumed more liquor than she ever had before, and her head was spinning terrible. She couldn't think straight, couldn't control her innermost emotions from breaking through the layer of propriety and modesty. Everything was so mixed up, and it seemed that only Harry Sommers and the Drambuie were between her and complete mental collapse. She sipped the drink, and the burning softness of its honeyed taste did help. Harry was right there, too, so near and so kind. .
She talked to Harry then, pouring out her heart to him in total freedom, sipping often and occasionally stopping her confession in order to cry or use a handkerchief And Harry stayed on the couch, pouring a little more of the Drambuie when necessary, always using a soothing calm voice to commiserate or ask a question. The liquor and the almost soporific tone of voice and the relaxation of her mind as she poured out her agonies made
Jill drift as time passed, and she found it much more restful to lay her head against the back of the couch and shut her eyes as she talked.
She barely was cognizant that her hand which did not hold the glass of Drambuie was being stroked tenderly between two soft palms. Only that there was a pleasant sensation, as though she was being sent to sleep by a loving parent.
From far, far away came the slumbering drone of Harry's voice. "Poor Jill," he murmured, "Poor, poor Jill."
The torpor increased, and Harry's words faded into meaninglessness. There only remained the sound of that soft, hypnotic voice and the increasing fog of alcohol and the soothing feel of his fingers upon hers.
"I'll rub your head, Jill," Harry said. "Would you like that? I know you would
"Yes . . . yes," she heard herself say. but it was from miles away. And then she felt her temple and forehead being rubbed and contentment flow through her . . . and she began to drift farther and farther into the nether world. It was an escape from her life with her husband, abandonment of her travails and woes, total denial of herself and her inner conflicts. There was a small warning voice in the back of her head saying that she should stop, she should get up and leave . . . but it was too far away and she disregarded it.
"You need understanding, Jill," the mesmerizing intonations of Harry Sommers continued in her ear. "Understanding and a different kind of love. A gentle love, a painless love."
"Yesssss .
"You're a beautiful woman, Jill . . . so beautiful. Soft skin like velvet to the touch. You like my touch upon it, don't you? Yes, you do. I can tell that you like my touch . . . let me touch your body and massage it as I am your head.
"Yes . . . please yes . . . " Jill replied thickly, still not comprehending his words, but only his hypnotically wonderful sound.
And then Harry moved his hands across Jill's smooth white throat and down her shoulders and along her sides, carefully avoiding her full upthrust breasts. Then, slowly, he insinuated a finger, then two, then all five under the edge of her sweater and began to rub the flat plane of her naked stomach in a circular motion. Then upwards, across her rib cage and then tentatively brushed across the cotton cups of her brassiere. Then back down to her belly and below . . . a grazing touch in the triangle of her tightly closed thighs.
Jill moaned slightly, and if she had been more conscious she would have reacted with righteous indignation at this blatant disregard of her modesty. But now her mind was asleep, and her young, sensually aware body, long overdue for it's say in her life, began to automatically respond to his caresses. Her hips undulated slightly, and she unconsciously squirmed her firmly rounded buttocks down against the couch cushion. Lovely she
thought, so lovely . . . so nice . . . and then Harry parted her sensuously-curving thighs and slowly slipped his hand up between her legs, rubbing and kneading the soft, still panty covered vaginal mound. Jill began to squirm more freely and tiny beads of working perspiration broke out on her forehead, and her dazed mind said nice. . . Tom is so nice to me for a change.
"Give me a hand, dear," Harry's soft, gentle voice demanded. "Give me your hand . Obediently Jill lifted one hand and Harry took the glass from it and placed it on the table. Then he placed her hand on his thigh and he reached over and ever so slowly slid the sweater up under her arms, pulling up the wool to reveal the now gently rising and falling breasts straining against the confinement of her brassiere. His hand went around one full cup and squeezed lightly, stroking the cloth and rubbing his finger over the tip. He could tell that her softly quivering breast was hardening into a firm fleshy ball of sexual excitement, and that under his ministrations, her nipple had become like a diamond chip, ready to burst in full erection if given the opportunity. And Harry was the one to offer just such an opportunity. He bent further forward, touched his lips to hers, and flicked his tongue inside her warm wet mouth while his hand made tantalizing little caresses against her nylon-clad cuntal crevice up between her limply open legs.
Jill moaned, and in a response she was consciously unaware of, she raised her other arm and wrapped it around Harry's neck. and stretched her lush young body out, her passion growing hot and eager, and threatening to overcome her. Her wetly quivering vaginal lips were swelling in their hunger and she began to splay her legs out so that his gently working hand could gain deeper entrance and more area of her now eagerly pulsing cunt
"Arch your back, dear," Harry sighed, "Arch your back so that I can take your bra off"
She did without question, lost in the vaporous madness of liquor and sensuality. There came the touch of his fingers on the strap, the hooking of his hand so that the little snaps would come undone . . . and then her brassiere was free .
A little puff of air crossed over her now ripely exposed breasts, and her hard, red tinted nipples, so perfectly formed and centered in the darker pools of her aureolas, jumped with the sudden turgidness that comes from need . . . and it was that distinct feeling, that difference between being dressed and being naked, which finally snapped Jill into awareness. She was still drunk, and still hazy as to what and where and who . . . but she knew in that instant that it was not her husband making love to her! Her eyes flew open and she comprehended her near nakedness and the lusting light of lasciviousness which shown like lanterns in Harry's eyes. with his hands caressing her hotly throbbing vaginal slit and her warmly tingling breasts. Oh dear God! her mind screamed. What is this; What is he trying to do to
"Noooo'." she cried out. and gagging she jackknifed to her feet, throwing Harry aside. She clutched at her crumpled sweater, crouching slightly as though she were trying to protect her warm and still frantically pulsating vagina from his beady, leering eyes.
"You monster! You took advantage of me. You waited until I was so drunk that I didn't know what I was doing and then you . . . you tried to
to use me. . . as a. . . a whore!"
Harry raised himself back to a sitting position and smoothed back his hair casually. His face broke out in a wide grin "Now Jill." he said suavely to her, "You were enjoying it for awhile. What turned you off? You might have liked it, you know."
"Shut up! Shut your disgust . . . disgusting mouth up!" Jill's voice rose in a shuddering wail. "How dare you . . . how dare you think that I would. . . that I could. .
"Oh, come off it, Jill." Harry said calmly. "From what you've told me, it's obvious that you're frustrated sexually. You're not at all frigid like your husband thinks. You've just never been opened up to all the wonders of physical joy."
Jill's ears pounded and she shuddered from the casual vulgarity of this man she had trusted. "Just because . . . because . . . of what I told you has happened between my husband and myself doesn't give you the right to assume I . . . would allow you liberties . . . so disgusting as . . . as .
Harry's lewd laugh interrupted her.
"I'm . . . I'm going to tell Tom on you, do you hear?" Jill screamed hysterically.
"That won't do you any good. He's probably out getting his fill of strange pussy right now, and even if you tell him later, he won't believe you." Harry stood up, an obscene grin across his face. "And if he does, I could say that you propositioned me and that we ended up screwing half the night away. Now calm down, Jill, and be reasonable.
Jill stood in agonized silence for a long moment. Oh God, what can I do? With the instinctive intuition of a woman, she knew that Harry would not hesitate to do as he threatened, and Tom, as impulsive and resentful toward her as he was, would probably believe him. But she just couldn't sit back and let the incident be forgotten, could she? Could she?
The tears came in a torrential rush then, and Jill turned and flung herself across the room and out the door. The door slammed behind her, cutting off the sardonic laughter of Harry Sommers.
Chapter Two
Harry Sommers stood where he was for a moment, his laughter gradually settling down into a wide, toothy grin. Everything had gone just as he'd planned, even better than he'd planned. Now if his wife had only been as successful in her part of the bargain
"Gay?" he called, and then smiled at his voluptuous young wife as she came out from behind an inconspicuous bamboo curtain set up in one corner of the room. dressed in a provocative housecoat that barely concealed the dark aureolas of her firmly ample breasts.
"That was quite a performance darling." Gay smiled back at him. "You almost had me convinced you meant it."
"Ah, but I did," Harry teased. "Every word."
"Fuck you" the beautiful brunette said good-naturedly.
"Right now?" Harry asked with surprise.
Gay laughed, and crossed the room to press her ripely seductive body against that of her husband.
"You are completely incorrigible, dear husband. Did you know that?"
"Well, I should be," Harry grinned. "I work damn hard at it."
Again they both laughed, and Harry brought his wife over toward the sofa.
"Did you get the pictures?" he asked.
"Of course I did. Have you ever known me to fail? But I was worried for a minute that she'd hear me."
"The way she was bombed? Where are they?" Gay moved across the room, and brought back a Polaroid camera and four fresh pictures from behind the bamboo screen, spreading them out for her husband on the coffee table.
"Nice, don't you think?" she queried.
Harry nodded his head, and examined all the pictures closely. The best one was where the young wife had her head thrown back while he held a nipple in one hand and used the other hand up between her legs. What made it so good was Jill's wanton expression, her sensuous lips wetly parted, the look of hot implacable hunger on her face! It was too bad he hadn't been able to go all the way with the innocent little Jill Parker, but there would soon be other chances for that, especially if the plan worked out as well as it had in the past. Besides, the four pictures spread before him were damning enough.
"Harry," Gay said, lifting her husband's face from his perusal of the photographs, "Do you think Tom Parker will buy all this? I mean you said he thought his wife was frigid, and if that's so . .
"Of course he'll buy it," Harry answered her. "What husband wouldn't buy it, when he sees pictures like these? And besides, since he thinks his wife is frigid with him, it'll make him all the more angry when he thinks she isn't as cold with somebody else. Don't you remember, that's just the way it was with the Barnett's."
Gay nodded, and moved to the sofa. Just six months ago, in fact, she and Harry had used very much this same plan to initiate John and Laura Barnett into their little club. John Barnett had been at that time a freshman copy editor with Jamieson Advertising, and had in many ways resembled Tom Parker. And now, he and his wife were two of the most exciting and innovative members of Jamieson Advertising's unofficial and clandestine swap club.
Gay stretched her sensually alluring body out on the sofa, allowing the robe she was wearing to fall partially open, and reveal her warm nakedness underneath. She smiled as she saw her husband's eyes follow the slit in her robe down the length of her provocatively exposed body.
"Why don't you come on over here and stretch out, darling?" she breathed, with seductiveness. "You must be all hot and bothered after your little performance with the cute little Mrs. Parker."
Harry smiled at his wife, and crossed to the sofa. Goddamn, but she was the most perceptive wife a man could hope to have. She had seen immediately that the episode with Jill Parker, though deliberately planned, had still left him excited from the sight and feel of the young woman's enticingly innocent young body, and his wanton excitement always excited her in turn.
"Why, what could you have in mind, Mrs. Sommers?" Harry teased, as he sat beside her.
"Oh nothing, dear, nothing at all . . ." But her actions belied her words as she carelessly began to unbutton his shirt, and undo the belt and zipper of his pants.
"You know," Harry said joyfully, "I think this is going to be one of the best weeks our little club has ever had . . . what do you think?"
"Well, that depends on how much work you boys have to do during the week to keep up the pretense of a business conference. By the way, you never told me who was coming this week." Gay leaned up to kiss her husband's neck and ears, letting her warm tongue snake inside the little shell briefly, then trail down the firm line of his jaw. He shivered as her hand dipped inside the open fly of his trousers, and began to rub the growing bulge in his underwear.
"Well, the Barnetts are coming, as usual," Harry managed to say through the moans that his wife's expert manipulation of his genitals were beginning to elicit from him. "And then . . . then there's the Wellingtons and . . . uhhh. . . and the Prescotts this time."
"Oh that's nice. I like Will Prescott." Gay made her voice matter of fact to contrast with the increased tempo of her hands on her husbands now rigidly stiffened penis. Then, feigning surprise, she suddenly looked down at the huge mound straining to release itself from the confines of his underwear, and brought a mock innocent quality to her voice.
"Oh my, did I do that. . . all by myself?"
Harry grinned, looking down at his wife fondly; Damn, but she was some fine woman; he'd yet to find a better fuck, and Christ knew he'd done enough fucking in his lifetime, especially after he became president at Jamieson and married Gay. She was one in a million; each time he was with her was better than the last, and the more and diversified number of men she had relations with, the better she was for him. They complimented each other perfectly, teaching one another all that they knew, physically, and they were an ideal mental match as well. He was a Goddamned lucky man, all right. He reminded himself of that often.
"Mmmmm?" Gay repeated, her hand not stopping in its maddening caresses, "Did I do that?"
"You know you did, baby. But the question is what you're going to do about it."
"I don't suppose you'd have any suggestions?"
"Well, I could think of a few."
"But I bet I could think of more," Gay smiled, and slowly stood up from the sofa and began to slip her robe off her shoulders. Tantalizingly, her eyes smoky and heavily-lidded she let the garment fall op en, fall off her shoulders, slide down along her smooth creamy skin to puddle at her feet. She stood before him completely naked, then raised her hands to cup the full firm mounds of her breasts, kneading them like a lover would, thumbs playing over the swollen berry-like nipples. Harry's hot eyes watched her, drinking in the beauty of her unblemished flesh, the perfection of her fleecy pubic hair framing the wet, pink folds of her insatiable and yet still tight cunt, the slender columns of her long tapering legs with their soft fleshy inner thighs.
Gay reveled in his lustful gaze for a long moment, then she stepped over to the sofa and lay down on it, spreading her legs wide in a wantonly inviting pose, exposing to his eyes the full, wetly palpitating expanse of her cuntal passage and the erect clitoris which nestled teasingly down in the soft dark pubic curls. She rotated her hips lewdly on the satin spread, arching them up and lowering them again in a measured, intoxicating way. "Get naked, lover," she said, and it was a command. "Get naked right now!"
Harry obeyed. In all else, he was lord and master - but in the bedroom with this carnal woman, he was her slave and he knew that and accepted it. He wouldn't have had it any other way. Quickly, he undressed, throwing his clothing over a chair to one side. Then he was nude, and his great, blood-red trembling cock stood out from his groin like some great craggy promontory from a wall of granite, its unseeing eye seeping clear droplets of seminal fluid as if in anticipation of what was soon to come.
"Lie down," Gay commanded, staring at his eagerly throbbing cock and licking her lips as if already tasting the pungent fluid swirling around in the warm, secret caverns of her hungry mouth. "Lie down next to me, lover."
"Are you going to suck me off?" Harry asked with trembling excitement.
"If you're a good boy," Gay said temptingly.
"If you're a good boy, I'll suck you and suck you and suck every last drop of your delicious hot cum from your lovely balls. Is that what you'd like me to do, lover?"
"Yes, yes, Jesus yes!"
Gay lowered her right hand and began to lightly stroke her own flat belly with her fingertips, her eyes on his face now, unblinking as she watched his growing expression of lust and hunger. She began to tease the softness of her pubic mound, trailing her hand down between her widespread legs so that she was rubbing in a slow, even tempo the warm moistness of her cuntal mouth, teasing her already erect clitoris with her index finger. "And after I suck you off, you'll eat me alive, won't you, lover?" she asked him in an almost hypnotic voice. "You'll put your head up between my legs and stick your long beautiful tongue in my cunt, won't you? You'll lick my pussy like a thirsty dog lapping water, lick it and lick it, just like I'm playing with it right now, won't you, lover honey?"
Her lewdly promising words had lashed Harry to a fever pitch of excitement, and his sperm-bloated balls felt as if they would explode any second. With a soft moan, he threw himself on the wide sofa, took Gay into his arms and began to shower her face and neck and breasts with hotly eager kisses. She laughed, holding him tightly for a moment, before her hand dropped to find his long turgid penis, and stroke it lovingly. Then she drew back from him and whispered softly, "You're a good boy, all right, lover. You're a good boy, and now I'm going to give you your reward."
His body was vibrating as if he had just stuck two fingers in a wall plug. He lay there, watching, as Gay got up onto all fours and nakedly crawled along the sofa until she was poised teasingly above his wide-splayed thighs. Oh Jesus, this was what he liked the best of all, when she went down on him! She could suck cock like no woman, anywhere, in any era; she was the best, the best, the absolute best
He watched her with fevered excitement, raising his head up as he always did so that he wouldn't miss one single moment of the excruciatingly pleasurable act. He saw Gay lower her head almost to the tip of his quiveringly expectant cock, stroking the palpitating flesh lightly with first one hand, then the other, then between the palms of both in a maddeningly gentle caress. Moans of sheer ecstasy escaped his lips, and he wanted to tell her to hurry, to suck him, suck him now, now before he came, but he knew that he didn't dare say a word. Even if he came while she was playing with him like that, that was the price he would have to pay. He had cum before just from her rubbing his wildly excited cock that way, shot his load all over that sweet, hovering face of hers; but she hadn't been angry. She had only licked away as much of his cum as she could with her
tongue, and kissed him soundly, and promptly got him hard again so she could suck him off properly.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Gay. finally began to move her head down to his desire-thickened penis, holding it steady between the palms of her hands. Then Harry felt the incredible softness of her wetly parted lips close over the sensitive head of his hotly pulsating shaft, felt her firebrand tongue lick circles of liquid fire around and around it, flicking into the glans opening, drinking up the lubrication fluid there.
"Uuuuuuuhhhhhh!" Harry moaned in abject abandonment, and his hands lowered involuntarily to wrap themselves in her dark hair as he drove the full length of his massive hardness deep into the soft, warm confines of her hungrily sucking mouth.
"Mmmmmmmm!" Gay wailed in approval, and then she drew back slightly, so that she was able to taste the moist stickiness seeping from the tip again, twirling her tongue maddeningly faster around the blood-inflated head. Then she began to suck him rhythmically with all the practiced expertise he had come to revel in over the years. He watched her tightly ovalled lips working on his penis, watched the soft red circle of her mouth pulled outward and then shoved back again as she sawed her face up and down the full length of his rigidly swollen cock. His loins tensed and jerked upward into her face, his great pillar of hot male flesh disappearing with each hard inward thrust into her rounded wet mouth going in so far that only a very small portion of his thick meaty cock showed blood-red from her lipstick and wetly glistening with his wife's hot saliva. Her tongue, with nerve-shattering lickings on the outstroke, was like a separate entity, a thing gone wild with lust within his mouth, making the rigid head jerk and convulse as though it, too, were alive and capable of independent action. She sucked voraciously, her breasts dancing wildly below her pumping head, twin globes of soft loveliness which added immeasurably to the lust-inciting picture he was viewing.
His lips formed the words of encouragement which he wanted to say aloud, but couldn't:
"Suck, baby, suck me, suck me, that's it, keep sucking me, keep sucking me!" At that moment he didn't care one Goddamned about Jill Parker or about all the women he'd fucked in his life; women Gay had helped him conquer in exchange for the privilege of sucking and fucking their husbands; he didn't give one damn for any of them but Gay, his Gay, his wonderful cock-sucking wife.
And she slaved below, her nakedly kneeling body glistening from tiny droplets of lust-sweat. Her right hand had gone down between her legs, and she was inserting her outstretched middle finger into the hot, wetly waiting entrance to her vagina. She slid it all the way in to her palm, drew it out to the nail, slid it in again. Faster and faster she fingered herself as she sucked her husband's hotly throbbing shaft of male flesh, her smoothly
rounded buttocks heaving and twisting in the air and her sensually swaying breasts doing an insane dance.
The sheer lasciviousness of the sight caused the pressure to build unbearably in Harry's sperm laden balls. He shoved his loins up hard against her face, needing release of the maddening buildup of churning semen m his scrotum, knowing that he was going to cum any second now, cum, cum, cum...
And then, all at once, he felt the eruption happen, felt the first jet of white-hot cum leap along the passage of his wildly jerking cock. He gasped, his lips pulled back across his teeth as if he were in mortal agony, and then his massively swelling penis began to flood his wife's mouth without advance warning. Rush after rush of burning hot semen bloated her cheeks outward with each spurt until she was forced to swallow wildly to keep from strangling, mewling and crooning her delight at the thick liquid which he was favoring her taste buds with, finger-fucking herself into a climax with her madly working middle finger.
"Oooooohhhhh!" cried Harry, his hands working spasmodically in her hair now, seeing his own white hot cum spill out around his cock at the corners of his wife's mouth, spill out and form thick white puddles on his pubic hair as she gluttonously sucked and nibbled his still ejaculating cock while her own nakedly aroused body shuddered and trembled in the throes of her own consuming orgasm.
Then, finally, it was over and Gay collapsed across Harry's lower belly, his rapidly deflating cock slipping from her warm mouth with a soft, obscene plopping sound. She ran her tongue over her semen smeared lips, licking into her mouth every last vestige of his juices, and then she lowered her head to nuzzle and lick his balls and his now-deflated cock in thankfulness. Then, after a time, she crawled up and kissed him full on the mouth, her tongue sliding between his teeth to fill his throat; he accepted it gratefully.
They lay there for awhile, and then Gay said, "How did you like that, lover? Was it as good as always?"
"Jesus!" Harry whispered. It was all he could say.
His wife laughed softly. "I guess I haven't lost my touch. I guess Tom Parker won't be too disappointed with me tomorrow."
"Disappointed?" Harry emitted a long, contented sigh, and then put voice to what he had been thinking earlier. "He doesn't know how Goddamned lucky he's going to be."
"You're sweet, lover," Gay said, and then she moved beside him, taking his hand and gliding it down over her sweat-slick belly to the warm pulsating wetness of her cunt. "And now you have to reciprocate for what I just did for you. You have to suck my hot little cunt." Again, it was a command, but Harry didn't care; after what she had just done for him, he would have obeyed any order she gave him. He would have licked her
asshole if she'd wanted him to . . . Come to think of it, that wasn't a bad idea.
Smiling, feeling his wetly glistening cock begin to stir again, Harry moistened his lips and slid down the sofa to where his wife's warmly throbbing pussy waited for him in all its hot, moist splendor, and her tiny puckered anus lay nestled teasingly below it.
*
*
*
Jill Parker lay on the bed in her room, feeling miserable and never more alone. The . . . near-rape by Harry Sommers, coming as a result of her own foolish drunkenness, had been the one crushing blow to cap a day filled with unhappiness and portensions of a final marital split between Tom and herself He hadn't been home when she came rushing back to the room after fleeing Sommers, and now she wondered if maybe Harry had been right in thinking Tom was out somewhere, "getting his.". No, that wasn't possible, Jill thought. Whatever else Tom was; he wasn't a cheat; he wouldn't be unfaithful to her. Would he? Oh God, she didn't know what to believe anymore .
It was dark in the room and hot, and after awhile Jill got up and undressed, and put on her light pajamas. She slid beneath the cool sheets on the double bed and tried to sleep, but she found herself worrying about Tom and wondering where he had gone off to. Probably someplace to get drunk; God, she hoped not! He was. . . well, he was almost like an animal when he was drinking heavily. Not that he beat her up or anything, but he became incredibly demanding, and if she didn't respond.
An involuntary shudder passed through Jill's slender body, but it wasn't only from the thought of Tom and his demanding ways when drunk. No, it was a shudder born of fear -- yes, and of guilt and shame at her own shortcomings. She didn't want to lose Tom, didn't want to face the coming years and decades alone or with some other man. She was a dependent woman, she knew that too, and yet to be totally submissive, the way he wanted her to be, seemed a simple impossibility.
The sound of the front door being pulled open startled Jill out of her reverie. She raised up in the bed, and then the door slammed shut. There was the heavy trod of Tom's steps, and then a crashing sound as if he'd walked into a table or something in the darkness. "Fucking son of a bitch!" she heard him exclaim, and she winced at the harsh vulgarity of the words
and at their slurred pronunciation, for that indicated that Tom had been drinking and drinking heavily. .
Seconds later he came into the bedroom, stood framed in the doorway holding onto the jamb and leaning heavily against it. His hair was disheveled, and his clothing seemed oddly rumpled Feeling a constriction in her throat, thinking that perhaps he had gotten into a fight or fallen and
hurt himself, Jill overcame her fear of him and reached over to switch on the nightstand lamp.
Tom blinked, lifting one hand to shade his eyes, then squinted at Jill lying in bed. She was relieved to see that he was all right, that he hadn't been hurt in some way. "Tom," she said, "I -"Oh, so you're up, eh?" he said drunkenly, and she knew then that he was more than a little intoxicated. "What the fuck? Don't tell me you were waiting for me? Hah! That'll be the Goddamned day when you wait up for me"
"Tom, please!"
"Tom, please!" he mimicked in a high pitched falsetto. "Bullshit on that! You'll lie there and take what I dish out, baby. You Goddamned well better, you frigid little bitch."
Jill felt hot tears of humiliation sear her eyes.
She lay back down, drawing the sheet up to her throat again, her eyes wide and staring at her huge, powerful husband. Tom stared back at her for a moment, and then a familiar ugly grin spread across his face. "I'm drunk, you know that?" he said. "But I'm not too drunk to tear off a little piece of that ice cold ass of yours. What say, Jill? How about if we fuck?"
"No, Tom!" The callousness in her husband's voice, the remembered savagery, frightened her and made the tears flow hotter and faster.
"Yes, goddamn yes!" shouted Tom, and he lunged at the bed, throwing himself onto it and pulling the sheet away from Jill's chin. She tried to scramble away from him, out of bed, but he held her imprisoned in his arms. Then he reached out one hand and caught her in the neck of her pajama tops. Mercilessly, he tugged downward, slowly popping the little pearl buttons off and tearing the material, exposing one of Jill's full, proudly upthrust breasts to his lusting eyes. He covered the creamy-white globe with his hand, cruelly squeezing the sensitive little nipple and pain slashed through her as he pinched the naked tip.
"Oh God, please . . . please, Tom, be gentle . . . please be gentle
He didn't reply, but his demanding wet mouth lowered to greedily mash itself against her soft red lips; he reeked of drink but he didn't let up, forcing her mouth open wide to accept his moistly probing tongue to accept his saliva with her own while his hand continued to squeeze and manipulate her tender breast with a calculated, drunken sadism. Then, suddenly, he drew back and leered down at her.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk tomorrow. And if you respond to it, then maybe we can save this Goddamn farce we call a marriage, after all."
Jill could only lie there with fear and revulsion showing on her face while Tom ripped at his clothes and flung them wildly from his muscular young body. Then, when he had lowered his shorts, she saw his huge, thick tree stump of a penis, growing and expanding with pumping blood until it seemed to her to be ready to burst. He reached down and stroked its
mammoth girth, making forward thrusts of his pelvis in a lewd pantomime of copulation.
"Going to fuck you silly, Jill Baby, going to luck you silly."
The terrified young wife stared at the bulbous head of her husband's massively erected penis as he stroked it, and her eyes were wide with hypnotic disbelief at what was about to happen. She was going to be violated, raped by her own husband so soon after almost being raped by his boss. She wanted to scream out at him, tell him about Sommers and what he had tried to do, but she knew it would be useless, that he was too drunk to comprehend or to care even if he did; the only thing on his mind now was her, was violating her soft, warm body with that terribly swollen penis of his.
Her husband reached down, then, and wrenched the sheets all the way off the bed. His fevered hands grasped the waistband of her pajama bottoms and pulled them off in a single motion, leaving her naked and trembling before his hot devouring eyes. He stared at her soft, hair-fringed vagina, so warm looking with its tiny clitoris quivering in the secret nest formed up between her legs by the downy soft pubic curls. Saliva drooled from the corners of his mouth, and his impatiently throbbing cock leapt in anticipation. He had to fuck her! Now, right now!
He threw himself down upon the nakedly trembling woman, unmindful of her soft pleading cry for mercy. He held her wild, straining form, pinioning her helplessly with his hard-muscled, tensed chest. Her honey blonde hair flailed violently from side to side, and her lovely face contorted in terror, but he ignored that just as he had ignored her terrified pleas.
And then he fucked her. . . without love and without tenderness. He was ready, had been that entire day, and the drinking had only enhanced the state of his wildly unpredictable arousal and his need. He forced himself brutally on top of his young wife, spreading her long, curved legs wide, his hips falling heavily between them to wedge her fearfully cringing cunt into a widespread defenseless position. If it had not been for her earlier excitement with Sommers, unwitting though it had been, she would have been ripped apart as he thrust his blood engorged head savagely between the petal like lips of her warmly helpless cunt. He ground his pelvis into her, sending his lust-thickened cock firing like a molten arrow deep, deep into her painfully stretched vagina to slam the swollen head painfully off her cervix.
"Oooooohhhhh!" Jill screamed in agony, and flailed her legs out on either side of his body in a vain attempt to escape his barbaric impalement. This only caused Tom to stroke harder and harder, making his huge turgid cock fill every inch of her hotly quivering passage and his heavy, sperm-bloated balls slap with resounding thuds on the softness of her defenselessly upturned buttocks.
Then he raised up slightly, leering insanely at her, and commanded, "Look! Goddamn you, look at what I'm doing; lift your head and look down at my cock, at my cock in your tight little cunt.
In spite of herself, Jill's eyes opened and she stared down between her nakedly trembling breasts to where his massively throbbing shaft was embedded in her hideously stretched cuntal lips, at their entwined pubic hairs, her softly yielding vagina grasping his long hard cock like a tender open mouth as he dipped and stroked mercilessly into the tortured little hole up between her widespread thighs.
She cried out her pain and her torment to him, but as before her cries went unheeded, fell on deaf ears. Harder and faster Tom fucked in her frantically squirming cunt, a crazed bull without any feeling except the one in his wildly pistoning cock and loins. His total commitment was to the fucking of the lush young woman beneath him, and to the complete subjugation of her. He knew he was close to cumming, he could feel the throbbing, churning build up of cum inside his restlessly seething balls, could feel the softness of her cunt hairs tickling at the base of his thick drubbing maleness as he thrust and stroked and fucked into the tight, warmly clasping vagina of his wailing young wife. He locked his hungry wet mouth to one of her fearfully trembling breasts, biting down on the nipple until she shrieked with added pain to that which she felt in her inhumanly stretched vagina.
"You're hurting me, you're killing me!" Jill screamed. But her arms were pinned to her sides as she felt his huge, hotly throbbing penis filling her belly like some unutterably hideous alien being which had invaded her soft flesh, and felt his cum-bloated testicles slamming lewdly against the wide split crevice of her defenselessly upraised buttocks as he reached down to cup her firm rounded ass cheeks to pull her harder up against his maniacally thrusting pelvis.
Then, suddenly, Tom began to moan like a wounded beast, and Jill knew that he was about to climax. She held herself as rigid as possible, waiting, praying for it to happen and to end so that she would be free of him and his terrible raping penis . . . And then it happened! She felt his hands dig convulsively into her sensitive flesh of her naked buttocks and his sharp teeth nip her painfully throbbing breast as his wildly jerking cock shot out of control inside her belly; the first spewing explosion of his white hot cum inundated her cervix, spurted thickly and obscenely throughout her ravaged young vagina. . . and she wanted to vomit. Instead, she clutched wildly at her husband, urging him to finish cumming, to finish draining his wildly spewing penis up into her belly and brutally stretched cuntal channel. Tom grunted and moaned and ejaculated great rivers of molten semen until it overflowed the warm receptacle of his wife's tightly clasping vagina and the runoff saturated the sheet beneath her buttocks.
Then, offering one final, almost contemptuous spurt of his hotly spewing seed, he collapsed forward. His cock retreated instantly, to shrivel
and grow limp and pull with a lewd sucking sound from her ravaged pussy, trailing thin, sticky strands of semen that glistened obscenely in the light from the nightstand lamp; they matted her pubic hair like silver cobwebs, and made her feel as if some evil fungi, some horrible parasite, had attached itself to her and was growing, growing.
She rolled away from her husband, who already was asleep in the aftermath of his satiation, his mouth open and low, contented snores bubbling past his. lips. She stared at this nakedly powerful form for a time, and then little whimpers of total disillusionment. and futility and defeat began to shake her entire young body. Finally, with hot, bitter tears streaming from her soft eyes, Jill got up and went into the other room of the cottage.
She lay down on the couch and covered herself with a thin spread which was draped over its back. She put her head in her arms and cried for a long time . . . cried for herself, for her husband, and for the futility of their ever living together normally again. And then, finally, mercifully, sleep took her to an unconscious oblivion of her present circumstances, and she dozed fitfully throughout the night.
Chapter Three
"Well, John, everything went like clockwork," Harry Sommers said the next morning, as he and John Barnett sat in Hidden Valley Resort's bar, nursing two large Bloody Marys. "Jill Parker fell for it -- hook, line and sinker."
John Barnett sat quietly, his large athletic body slouched down on the tall bar stool.
"Yeah, but will her husband fall for it?" Barnett asked, turning his tall frame on the stool to gaze at Harry. John Barnett was about thirty, and had the kind of young and innocent look that made women want to mother him. In fact, however, his blond good looks and naive manner were hardly enough to conceal the practiced man of the world that had made the most of all those mothering females.
"Of course he'll fall for it," Harry answered, grinning. "You fell for it, didn't you?"
John felt a twinge of embarrassment pass through him as he remembered how he, too, had been a victim of Harry and Gay Sommers scheming; but then he smiled, realizing how his initiation into Jamieson Advertising's secret swap club had been a major turning point in his life.
"Yeah, I guess so, you bastard," he chuckled, and raised his drink to his lips.
"Believe me, John," Harry went on, "When Tom Parker sees those pictures, he'll react the same way you did . . . the way any normal man would react. And my dear little wife will be there to exploit that reaction, don't forget."
"Christ, you two are unbelievable," Barnett laughed. "When I think of how many people you two must have lured into your traps.
"Lured?" Harry chuckled. "That's unkind, John. I like to think that Gay and I give people the opportunity to be caught."
John laughed out loud, and slapped his hand down loudly on the bar top.
"Well, I have to admit," he said. "It's done a world of good for me and Laura. I don't know what would have happened to us if you hadn't taken us under your wing, so to speak."
"And the same thing will happen to Tom and Jill Parker, believe me," Harry said.
The two men ordered another drink apiece, and sat quietly for awhile. But Harry could see that something was bothering his employee, and at last he asked him point blank what it was.
"I don't know exactly," John answered. "Well, I guess I do know, but I don't know whether I should mention it."
"Don't be an ass, John. What is it?"
"Well, it's just that I really wonder about Jill Parker, you know? I mean, from all outward appearances, she's just as cold a fish as her husband says she is. And if that's the case
"You wonder if she will be a constructive member of our little group, is that it?" Harry finished for him.
"Yeah, I guess so," John finished. "I mean, Tom's all right, we both know that. But to my mind, his wife is a big question mark, and I think we ought to be really careful about getting somebody into the group that's all uptight to begin with . . . I mean more uptight than normal about this kind of thing, you know?"
"Sure, I know. And I agree with you," Harry said. "But you can take it from me that all Jill Parker needs is a little thawing out, and she'll be one of our most. . . active members."
"But is the group the place for her to thaw out?" John asked, and then added: "Look, we both know what an iceberg can do to a group like ours. I mean we saw it with the Millers, remember?"
Harry did remember. George and Sara Miller had almost wrecked the group by making it the focal point of their own hang-ups, and trying to turn every session into some kind of group therapy.
"All right," Harry agreed, "I see your point. But the Parkers aren't the Millers, and Jill Parker is a volcano under that cool exterior, just waiting to explode. Take it from me."
"Well, I guess so," John said, "But I still don't like it."
"I tell you what, John," Harry said, after a pause, "Before we decide one way or the other, we'll give you a chance to try her out. You know, like take her for a test drive. Then you can make up your mind one way or the other, and I'll abide by your decision."
John turned slowly on his stool beside his boss, and tried to conceal his excitement. Hell, what a great idea!
"How are you going to manage that, Harry?"
"You just leave it to me," Harry grinned. "I'll think of something."
"I bet you will, you goddamn fox," John laughed.
"Well, what do you say?"
"What can I say? Chances like this don't grow on trees!"
"And neither do girls like Jill Parker," Harry added, his face growing conspiratorial. "Believe me, John, she'll be everything I promised!"
The two men laughed, and finished their drinks. And even as Gay Sommers was making her way to Tom Parker's cottage, Harry found himself constructing yet another plan for the seduction of Tom's beautiful young wife.
*
*
*
Jill Parker crept to the door of the bedroom, and peeked around the door at the inert form of her husband, lying naked on the rumpled bed, his breathing coming in short, hoarse gasps. From where she stood, Jill could almost smell the fetid odor of the cigarettes and liquor he'd consumed the night before, and it made her sick to even think about it.
She had had a restless night, and this morning when she had awakened, she'd felt as though every part of her body were bruised and torn, and she still felt obscenely filthy when she thought of the debasing attack her husband had made on her the night before. Her aching breasts were painful to the touch, the insides of her thighs were sore, and the softly tender lining of her abused cuntal mouth was red and chafed from the violent pounding of her drunken husband's irrational attack the night before.
As quietly as she could, Jill entered their bedroom, went to the closet, and pulled out the first dress she came to. She didn't want to wake her husband, didn't want to risk the chance of having another scene with him this morning. But as she was pulling the light summer dress over her head, Tom groaned and rolled over in the bed, his eyes making unsuccessful attempts to focus on her.
"Jesus Christ, what a head!" he moaned, his hands coming up to shade his eyes from the glare of the morning sun as it filled the room from the unshaded window. "Pull the blinds, will you, Jill?"
Jill hesitated, and then moved to draw the curtains across the room, plunging the room into a dim half-light.
"Goddamn, my fucking head," Tom repeated, starting to rise to a sitting position, and then falling back on the bed with a groan. He looked up as Jill made her way to the door.
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
"Give me a minute to find my head, and I'll go with you."
"I'd rather be alone," Jill said shortly, and moved out into the other room.
"Oh, for Christ's sake, I'll only be a minute."
"Take your time. I'm going out alone."
Tom cursed under his breath, and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling with exaggerated exasperation.
"What do you want;- An apology? All right, I apologize. Satisfied?"
"No." Jill answered sadly, from the other room. "No, I'm not. Not by a long shot."
"Well, that makes two of us," Tom groaned, and turned on the bed.
"Fuck you, you bastard!" Jill spat at him, angered again, and made her way to the front door.
"Fat chance with you around!" Tom yelled after her, but she was already gone, slamming the front door with a crash that sent Tom's hands to his head again, and made his temples throb with the pain of the previous night's excesses.
Tom didn't know how long he'd fallen asleep after that, when a knocking woke him at the front door. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, numb from sleep and his hangover. Hell, Jill must have forgotten her key!
"Go climb in a window, bitch!" he shouted. "I'm not getting up!"
But then he was surprised to hear the melodious, purring voice of a woman filter in from outside, and it was a woman who was not his wife.
"Tom? Is that you?"
That certainly wasn't Jill, Tom thought quickly to himself She hadn't sounded that sexy in years. In fact, she had never sounded that sexy.
"Yes. . . Who is it?" Tom called out, wincing from the pain that shot through his head with the effort.
"It's Gay . . . Gay Sommers . . ." said the voice. "Could I talk to you for a minute?"
Gay Sommers? The boss' wife? God, what could she want with him so early in the morning? Automatically Tom checked the small clock on the bed stand, and realized it was not nearly so early as he'd thought.
"Yeah . . . yeah, sure . . . I'll be right there." He stumbled upright, a searing blast of hangover almost making him topple over, and he was forced to steady himself with a hand on the nightstand. He winced and rubbed his forehead, then staggered for the door.
He almost opened it before he realized he was completely naked. He grabbed his pants, which were thrown to one side from his burst of passion
the night before, and hastily buckled them. Nude save for that, he opened the door.
His hangover was forced into submission by Gay Sommer's provocative beauty. She was fascinatingly sensual in a pair of lemon yellow shorts and a stretched brassiere of overloaded cups. He leaned against the door jamb, breathless, drinking in her long, statuesque legs, bronzed nude belly which showed flat and wrinkle free between the shorts and her halter, and the top twin halves of her barely concealed breasts.
can I come in, Tom?" She asked hesitantly.
"Yes, please do." Tom said. He held the door open for her and she entered. As she brushed past him, he smelled the faint fragrance of her musky perfume, and the headiness of her scent was like nothing he'd ever dreamed of He shook his head, images of soft music, and crystal chandeliers, and brandy flashing briefly in his mind . . . The sudden provocative thoughts made him redden slightly, and he turned to the stunning brunette almost apologetically. Still, there was no denying it, he thought. She would probably be one holy terror in bed. The way she looked, the way she talked, smiled, and smelled were irrefutable testimonies to that.
"What can I do for you?" Tom asked as she sat down.
"I . . . I" she faltered, her eyes looking up at him. "Could I have a drink?"
"A. . . drink? This early in the morning?" Tom grinned, attempting a joke.
"Yes. I need one. It will give me strength."
Tom padded to where the bottle he had brought along was standing. "It's bourbon, Mrs. Sommers," he said, "It's all I've got."
"That'll be fine. Anything, so long as it's straight. And my name is Gay, remember?"
Tom went into the bathroom and brought out two water glasses and poured her a stiff shot. He looked at the other glass, tasted the dryness in his mouth and throat, and then poured a larger shot into the other glass and took a swallow.
The alcohol burned a path to his stomach and water welled in his eyes. Gasping a bit, he said, "What. . . what's the matter, Gay?"
"It's so embarrassing. I don't know how to put this."
A cold wave of apprehension began to creep along Tom's backbone. It was as if he had a premonition of some disastrous happening . . . in the back of his head a small warning bell tolled and the pit of his stomach rolled.
"Tell me" he urged.
"All right." Gay Sommers lowered her eyes from his. She took a long, low sip from the bourbon as though she was kissing its amber liquid. Then she blurted, "Do you know where your wife was last night?"
Tom was taken aback. What a crazy question! Of course he knew! "Right here," he replied, frowning. "Asleep."
"Oh God, if that were only true!" wailed Gay.
"I don't understand!"
"I can't tell you! I. . . I must show you."
Tom took another deep swallow. What was this beautiful woman saying? If Jill wasn't here, where the hell had she been? He could only watch as Gay reached across the tiny purse she had brought with her, and pulled out a stack of what looked like Polaroid photographic prints.
"Harry . . . my husband . . . is an amateur photographer. You know that Tom." Tom nodded in confusion. "Well, I found these in our cottage last night. Don't ask me how he took them, or how it happened, because I don't know. All I know is that I don't believe any of it."
Tom took the four prints that Gay handed to him, totally unprepared for what greeted his disbelieving eyes. There, in undeniable black and white, were the unmistakable images of his Jill, his own wife, and his boss, Harry Sommers! Jill's legs were lewdly spread wide open and Harry's outstretched middle finger could clearly be seen outlined under the flimsy little panties; but all in all, the worst thing was Jill's expression of wantonness. God! She looked almost as if she loved what he was doing up between her thighs.
"Oh no! It can't be!" Tom moaned in sudden anguish, turning the photos in his hands. "I don't believe it!"
"Neither did I, Tom . . . at first," Gay said to him, his face a study in righteous indignation.
"No, this is all a mistake. Jill wouldn't let herself. . . wouldn't let herself be pawed like that!" Tom insisted, his brain unable to comprehend the enormity of his wife's betrayal. "There must be some other explanation."
"There isn't, Tom. There isn't," Gay said. "And I think it's even worse than those pictures show."
"What do you mean . . . worse?" asked Tom, afraid to admit what Gay obviously was trying to tell him.
"I mean that these weren't the only pictures, Tom," lied the scheming seductress. "There were others, and I'm afraid those others showed even more damning evidence of what happened."
Tom stood, swaying from the combination of his hangover and the earth shaking news he was hearing, and tried to fight off the suspicions that they were gradually forcing him to come to.
"Where are they, these other pictures? I want to see them."
"I don't have them," Gay said. "When I woke up this morning, Harry was asleep, and I found all the pictures when I went into the living room of our cottage. I couldn't believe it at first, of course, and then, since Harry wasn't up yet, I went in to take a shower. When I got out, Harry was up;
and by the time I got back out to the living room, the pictures were gone. All except these four, which I found in a wastebasket."
"And the other pictures. . . ?" Tom asked in an agonized whisper.
Gay dropped her head, and said nothing, but to Tom it was answer enough. His wife, whom he had thought so cold, was actually cheating on him! Tom's mind whirled as he stared at the horribly incriminating photographs.
How could Jill do such a thing? . . . His cold, prudish, sexually contemptuous mate? He took another swallow, emptying the glass, only to have Gay refill it. He barely noticed her.
Yet, incredibly, as though there were some magical aphrodisiac in passing the four photos back and forth beneath his burning gaze, Tom found himself growing heatedly aroused. There was Jill . . . enjoying sex! That's the way he wanted her, that's the way she should be to him. . . only she wasn't. . . Oh God, that's the way their marriage should be, he thought, and the sight of her being the sensually awakened woman he craved and needed was terribly erotic!
Gay glanced at the front of Tom's pants as she poured the bourbon. She could see his long thick cock filling out and beginning to jump spasmodically, pushing the trouser material out further. The second drink disappeared faster than the first, and she poured him another. Good .
good.
Tom felt his angrily pulsating penis leap into hardness as if it had a life of its own. He tried to will it limp again, to banish the beginning lewd thoughts which swirled in his mind along with the anguish of Jill's all too apparent adultery, but he might as well try to will the turn of a tide, for his hotly throbbing cock remained maddeningly swollen. Guiltily, he glanced at Gay Sommers.
Her eyes met his, and she was smiling with wetly parted lips.
"Tom," she breathed in sultry heaviness, "you're excited by this pictures aren't you?"
"I. . . well I. . . "he faltered. Jesus! What was she doing?
She laughed deep in her throat. "I know why you have a hard-on, Tom."
His breath quickened at her vernacular term. "What? You . . . ?"
"You have a hard-on because you're seeing your wife with another man, isn't that right? You're all hot because she's going to fuck. . . fuck
"Oh God!" he managed to breath. His wildly jerking penis was a palpitating mass of nerve tendrils now and his brain reeled from the bourbon. Here was this provocative woman seeing her husband with his wife . . . and she was talking like this? Why? Didn't she know what could happen saying obscene words like that to a wronged man? He trembled and took another drink and found his hand shaking.
And then she reached out and touched the massively throbbing bulge at the base of his stomach.
"We have to do something, Tom," she murmured. She rubbed his long hardened thickness faster, making his blood boil. "We owe it to ourselves. Turnabout is fair play, and it can be good that way. Very, very good. . . don't you know? You want to hurt her for what she did last night, and I want to pay Harry back. They deserve to be hurt
Pay them back. . . Jill deserves to be hurt. . . the words spun and tumbled in Tom's alcohol dazed mind. Yes. . . he wanted to have revenge.
and he pressed a little closer to Gay's exploring fingers.
Suddenly, as if the hold his marital vows had clamped upon him were strained from the pressure his boss' wife was placing upon them, Tom's lips moved slowly.
"Please . . . for God's sake! Cut it out! I'm only human!"
"So am I, Tom, and my cunt is on fire looking at these pictures. The only thing that'll put out the fire is a long hard cock. A cock like yours, deep. . . deep up inside my pussy."
"Jesus, Gay! Do you know what you're saying? You want me to. you. . . here?" gasped Tom.
"Yes, lover. . . fuck me, fuck me. . ." She unhooked her halter and stepped out of the brief shorts then, still entoning the obscene liturgy, "fuck me . . . fuck me . . ." over and over. She stood with her long naked legs spread wide apart and her head and shoulders pulled back, and the wet, petal-like lips of her wetly throbbing vagina peeked through her soft curls of pubic hair and glistened in pink lewdness, along with her pale alabaster breasts jutting in inviting splendor. She cupped her proudly ripened breasts with her hands and said: "Well, Tom? Aren't you going to join me?"
No, no, no! I can't hear any more! Tom fought his gathering passion with panic. It's wrong, wrong! No matter what Jill did... Gay's beautiful, andl ache for her physically, but it's wrong!
"I want to fuck you, Tom. . . fuck you like you've never been fucked before. Down on the floor, right here, me on my hands and knees, with you in back of me, fucking me dog-style, fucking me hard!"
On and on she went, and Tom's mind was a lather of drunkenness, anger, and swirling frenzy. Yet, he was transfixed and unable to protect his body from this seductively voluptuous siren as she moved back to him and slowly, mesmerically, unzipped his pants. They fell, pooling around his feet, and his thick, blood-enraged penis stood out at a forty-five degree angle from his loins, quivering, and seeping from its glans slit.
Oh God . . . it was too much! Perhaps he could have withstood the assault if she hadn't undressed him . . . but now he looked down upon his involuntarily hardened cock and he couldn't resist it any longer. Gay's lewd words in his brain, the sight of her beautifully naked cunt and his hotly aroused cock in throbbing erectness, the intolerable need and hunger in his
body, and the churning scene of his unfaithful wife in his mind. . . he had to find release!
A small tortured cry rendered itself from him as he stepped out of his pants and flung himself at Gay. He dragged her to the bedroom, not caring for anything except this soft, warm, heavenly smelling woman pressed so nakedly to him. They fell onto the bed, their hands immediately beginning an impatient search for one another's private parts. Gay's searing fingertips closed over his hotly pulsating cock, and then she twisted up off the bed suddenly, crouching down on all fours, spreading her legs wide as her wetly glistening vaginal lips opened excitedly in flared abandonment.
Tom viewed her luscious, full rounded buttocks, and his balls ached with burgeoning semen. He glanced just once at Gay's moistly waiting cunt, and then he was down behind her, showering her nakedly trembling buttocks with kisses, smelling the exotic wafts of her excited secretions, and then he couldn't hold it any longer.
He moved over her back, trailing a wet path of saliva along her backbone, hearing her moan with ecstasy. His hands gripped her warmly naked buttocks, spreading them yet farther apart, and he pressed his bloated cock head against the deep, warm, channel between her full rounded globes. He moved his lust-hardened cock head up and down the fiery valley, feeling every wetly quivering inch of flesh and hair between her upper vaginal lips and her anal ring. Her gleaming white ass cheeks churned in desperate rotation, and an undeniable invitation.
"OOOOOOOOhhhhhh, fuck meeeeeeee!" she wailed "Please fuck meeeeeeeeee!"
With a low groan Tom made on powerful, body jolting thrust forward, and drove his huge, rock hard penis into the soft yielding flesh of her vagina, rammed it home until her cervix hungrily closed against the smooth rubbery tip. He felt the elastic sheath of her wetly clasping cunt slip hotly around his long fleshy column, consuming it as he raced deep up into her belly, his sperm-laden balls slapping her ripely upturned buttocks, with a resounding, staccato sound.
He was gone, lost in a nether world of enchanting sensual bliss, in the wondrous cavern of Gay's wildly exciting cunt. He flexed his body and crashed into her time and time again, driving and lashing in almost brutalistic abandonment as he tried to rid himself of the twin devils: passion and anger.
Chapter Four
Jill Parker sat huddled in a far corner booth of the Hidden Valley Resort bar. She held a Drambuie in her trembling hand, sipping it as she had the previous three glasses. Her brain was full of abject, overwhelming misery, and the warm liquor had taken the cutting edge off her agony. Occasionally she daubed her swollen eyes with a tissue, for there had been no end to the copious flow of tears since she'd walked out of her cottage.
"Jill?"
For a moment, Jill thought Tom was speaking to her, that he had come after her and found her here. She looked up, and stared into the eyes of Harry Sommers.
"Go away, Mr. Sommers," she said curtly. "Please go away."
"Jill . . . Jill, I know how you must feel. I'm sorry."
"So am I. Please go away." She dropped her eyes to her drink.
"I can't, I'm afraid. . . I. . . must speak with you."
Without further ado, Harry sat down in a chair across from her. His eyes were contritely downcast, and he held his hands together as though very sad. "I know this sounds terrible, but I want you to forget what happened last night. I want to be friends with you, and believe me, it was the liquor in me that caused all the trouble."
Jill smiled ruefully at the glass in her hands. Liquor. Salvation . . . or hell? She was beginning to feel the Drambuie, being as upset as she was and having had nothing to eat, and she was having a little problem focusing on Harry.
"My wife and I . . . well, we're having sort of a get-together to start the week off right, and I want you along. Your husband is already there." You bet he is, thought Harry to himself He should be in there any minute now! In my over sexed wife that is!
"No . . . I'd rather not."
"Please. It's the only way I can possibly make it up to you, and besides, Gay wants to meet you very much."
"No, thank you."
"At least come up for a minute to make her acquaintance. Then leave. I won't press you further if you'll do that for us."
"Oh, all right," she said a trifle petulantly, "if you insist." Jill didn't want to at all. She didn't want to see any more of Sommers, of her husband
-- of anybody. Only the bottom of the Drambuie glass. She finished the liquor and licked the rim of the glass. But the only way of getting rid of Sommers was to make the trip, she could see that, and so she rose from the table, a little wobbly, and said: "Let's get this over with. I'm thirsty."
"Whatever you say," Harry said graciously. He got to his feet and took her arm, helping her. She allowed him to lead her for the second time through the maze of tables, across the lobby and outside.
As they moved outside, the bright early morning sun caught Jill by surprise, and she closed her eyes from the glare. When she opened them, she found that she was moving down the small road to her own cottage.
"Hey this is the way to our place," she said in confusion, her speech slurred slightly from the liquor she'd drunk.
"Yes, I know," Harry said quickly. "Our cottage is just beyond yours, remember?"
Blushing from the memory of what had happened the day before, Jill allowed herself to be led along, swaying and occasionally stumbling against Harry's powerful body. Suddenly, Harry stopped, as though he were listening very care fully.
"Did you hear that?" he asked quietly.
Jill looked up, and noticed that they were standing in front of her own cottage. She listened, and then did hear something. Something strange, like two people in an argument.
"Come on, let's go see what's going on," whispered Harry, already leading her up the walk to the cottage.
Dazed and confused by the liquor she'd consumed, Jill allowed herself to be pulled along, and soon found herself in the living room of her cottage. The whole thing was unreal, like a dream, a fantasy she was watching but not taking part in. But the dream was suddenly brought into focus, and the fantasy shattered, by a scream that came through the open door to the bedroom.
"Ohhhhhh fuck meeeeeee! Fuck meeeeee!
"Why . . . why that sounds like it came from my room!" Jill whispered.
"So it does. I wonder what's going on!"
Jill began to bolt for the bedroom door, but Harry grabbed her arm.
"No!" he cautioned, "We don't know who might be in there, and I think we'd better go carefully." Without waiting for an answer, he guided the pretty wife by her arm to the door. "Shhhhh," he said, putting a finger to his lips. "I'll just ease the door back like this . . .and .
There, to Jill's completely uncomprehending eyes, was a clear view of her husband and a strange woman on the bed, humping like two mad, naked dogs!
"My God, Jill!" Harry whispered in hushed tones. "That's my wife!"
Again, Jill tried to focus her liquor clouded vision on the salacious spectacle, but she had difficulty. Then all the horror, all the sickening, foul terror and revulsion curdled in her mind, burned her retinas, and made her gasp with total rejection. She stepped back, knowing she must flee from this disgusting carnal abuse which was before her . . . but Harry caught her and held her in such a way that she was forced to stay. Her eyes bulged wide.
Tom, her husband, making love to another man's wife! Oh God, it couldn't be true. It couldn't! She must be having a hallucination, an impossibly wretched nightmare, for this was impossible! And yet . . . it was happening! Was Tom some sick, perverted animal deep inside who had to
rut and grovel in sex? Yes . . . yes, that must be true for what else would explain his treatment of her last night and all the other nights?
Harry's rapidly swelling cock had grown from the lewdly exciting sight of his nakedly writhing wife being fucked by his young account executive, and the bulge of his painfully throbbing penis almost touched the sensual swell of Jill's trembling ass cheeks. He moved her closer, guiding her gently, and she took his support as she would have taken a life preserver if drowning. She leaned gratefully against his body, and her warmly soft buttocks rubbed against his lust-hardened shaft making it almost burst with an eagerness to get inside her tight little cunt. He brazenly pressed his hotly pulsing hardness against her smooth round buttocks, knowing that the only thing she was aware of with her Drambuie-dulled brain was the obscene ritual of copulation on the bed in front of her.
Tom grunted like a mating ox as he thrust deeper and deeper into the soft warm flesh of Gay Sommer's wetly upthrust vagina. His huge, sperm-bloated testicles smacked like cymbals crashing against her smoothly flexing ass cheeks, and Gay in turn mewled and sung her wild lyrics of passion as she worked demonically to milk his heatedly thickened cock of his great load of white hot sperm.
Noooooooo! Jill's mind cried out. Please God, make this stop! I'll die ~f I see any more. . . hear any more! Ohhhh please, I can't stand it! She tried to put voice to her pleas, but she found she'd been struck dumb by shock. But then Harry's smooth, silky voice filled her ears.
"Look at them, Jill, Look at Gay and Tom enjoying themselves, fucking and fucking and fucking..
Shut up! Shut up! Oh my God! Can't you see that I know what they're doing? I must go, I must break free of this man, of this room, of this crazy world! I must! I must!
But still the commands that came from the one section of her brain which had remained rational could not make her move or talk. The orders were short circuited by the degradation she was a part of, and helplessly she stood and watched the flagrant defilement of her husband's marriage vows. And behind her was Harry Sommers, rubbing his hotly burgeoning penis up and down the satiny surface of her light summer dress.
"Look, look, Jill. Watch them make love. Watch them
And unconsciously at first, then with growing realization of what she was doing, Jill DID watch them. Strange emotions pervaded her soul, and a perverse oddness seemed to trickle through her as she watched the lewd performance of her husband and the boss' wife. She stared at Tom's hardened shaft of male flesh, long and glistening, as it sawed in and out of Gay's pink, wetly dilated cunt.
Then slowly, insinuatingly, as a snake slithers upon its victim, Harry took one hand and worked his way across the involuntarily palpitating belly of Jill Parker. Cautiously curving it under her blouse as he had the
previous night, Harry slowly and carefully rubbed her chest and sides then moved up to cup one firm, tender breast. He squeezed the succulent flesh gently and could feel the nipples harden under his easy manipulations.
Jill's liquor dazed, shock contorted brain reeled from his familiarity. He's doing it again! My God! His hand is on my breast again! No. . . I must stop him! I must! He hasn't the right, no matter what sick, lewd sin is being committed before me . . . But she couldn't stop him, any more than she could run or speak at that moment. Her brain was as if frozen. What had happened to her? Oh God, what was that fluttery feeling in her stomach now that made her feel as if she might throw up? And . . . and between her legs seemed so hot and wet . . . as if somehow, some way, she was aroused sexually! No.
"My wife and your husband, Jill. Making each other feel good, just the way you and I could feel good. I want to make love to you, Jill, make love as they are"
Noooooo! She couldn't do such a thing! The very idea appalled her, made her want to run. . . but she couldn't run! Was she crazy? Perhaps the events she'd witnessed had twisted her mind, because, incomprehensibly, she was not appalled. . . no longer. . . she no longer cared about anything!
Involuntarily, Jill squirmed back against Harry's slightly moving loins and moved her chest so that her warmly tingling breasts were more firmly embedded in the cup of his wandering hand. Her breath came in jagged spurts, and her nostrils dilated, and her eyes were locked upon Tom and Gay. She was no longer her own master, but the slave of some alien force.
and she felt her will to resist departing on wings of sudden speed.
Harry saw that the time was right. Expertly, he raised her blouse, and obediently, though trembling, Jill raised her arms and the blouse came off to be thrown aside. Her ripe young breasts quivered and her belly rippled, but she didn't lose sight of the couple fucking directly in front of them. Then the brassiere . . . and her warmly palpitating breasts, trembling like leaves in autumn winds, were free. She moaned, and then Harry was clutching her to him, caressing each firm, proud young mound of warm flesh lavishly with his hands, tweaking the tips to round, rock-hard berries.
"It feels good, doesn't it, Jill? My hands feel good on your breasts
"Yes . . . yes, they feel good," she responded automatically. She didn't know what was happening to her except that she was too weak to fight this wonderfully new feeling that seemed to be pervading her traitorously interested body. It was awful . . . terrible . . . a thing to be loathed . . . what was happening around her, to her, and by her! Yet she wanted it to continue. Oh, Dear God, she wanted it!
Almost trembling himself with the passion to fuck this frightened female before him, Harry slid the zipper of his pants down, the rasping sound almost inaudible. He looked once to see if the couple on the bed had heard, or more precisely, if Tom Parker had heard what was happening
behind him, but a cannon wouldn't have disturbed Tom from the pistoning hot release he was searching for. This was the test, Harry knew . . . the test as to whether he had been right about Jill Parker's hidden wells of sexual emotion. This was the test.
"Jill . . . honey, Jill . . . Let's take your dress down so that we can make love while we watch.
"Yes . . . " Jill's mind replied before she realized what she had thought. Her fingers plucked at the zipper and gathering the cloth of her panties with the fabric of the dress, she wriggled slightly and slid them down, then stepped out of them . . . and was bare. BARE! NAKED! NUDE! her mind screamed at her, but she didn't notice. She couldn't, for she was too far gone then on the Drambuie and the sexual arousal and agony to care. She was consumed totally by new and powerful emotions seething in the pit she'd for so long kept a lid on . . . a lid which had been thrust aside by the shock of seeing Tom, her own husband, locked in a lewd sexual coupling with another woman.
The exposed lush whiteness of her smooth, rounded buttocks were lust provoking to Harry's jaded eyes, as was the glistening wetness of her hair-fringed little cunt which peeked so provocatively from between her legs. "I'm going to make love to you now, Jill," he murmured into her ear. He massaged the warm pliant flesh of her ass cheeks and dipped one outstretched finger into her wetly quivering cuntal valley. "I'm going to take off my pants and fuck you like your husband's fucking my wife."
Nooooo howled the last vestige of her morality, and then came the louder, more sonorous bellow of a new Jill Parker. A voice which over shadowed the old. Yesssss, I want to be loved. Please love me. . . now!
She heard him remove his clothing in hurried, almost frantic haste, and then he was beside her again with his hotly throbbing penis pressed tightly to the fleshy crevice between her trembling ass cheeks, and she felt it leave a thin trail of wet seminal stickiness as it slid up and down between the gently palpitating moons. She also felt his lust-bloated head and marveled in its size as it heatedly pulsated against her naked backside. With a sudden sense of shame, she tingled with the same terrible feeling of wantonness and need which had brought her to such subjugation as this. She couldn't understand it. . . and she didn't want to.
"I'm going to do it now, Jill . . . I'm going to slide my cock in your pussy now . . . please don't make any noise. Be very quiet . . . so we can watch them.
Jill sucked in her breath, every fiber trembling with fear and anticipation. She spread her legs wider and bent over slightly at his command, and she sensed her wetly pulsating vagina flower open and secrete more juices than she had ever thought possible. Then he pressed forward, and the first, tentative nudges of his massively thickened cock against the softness of her pubic hair sent shivers racing through her marrow. Then, almost without her being aware of it, his warmly throbbing
cock-head had effortlessly slid into her wetly clasping cuntal opening. He added another throbbing inch, and slid yet more into her sensitively elastic hole.
He's inside me, she dazedly thought as the sensations of her desire reduced her to an almost quivering mindlessness. He feels good, just like he said, and not like Tom does when he rapes me. . . oh yes, he's so big, but so gentle and sooooo nice. . . yes, this is what I dreamed love making felt like.
And then, as if an admitting to herself that there was goodness and warmness to be found in making love, a certain relaxing of Jill's mind took place. She found that her ability to move had returned, and she moved, slowly and rhythmically back against his huge, wonderfully hard penis with her warmly inviting buttocks. She found her voice again as well, and turning to shine her eyes of passion upon Harry, she said; "Fuck me"
Harry smiled triumphantly as he heard Jill's whispered cry of total surrender, and he immediately levered forward with a victorious thrust. His huge, bloated cock surged like some monstrous dredging machine along the moistly warm tunnel of the young wife's tensed cunt, spreading wide the tender membranous walls as it roared deep up against her womb. The bulbous, lubricated head hammered mercilessly against her cervix, while at the same time his semen-heavy testicles slammed hard up between her dampened and quivering thighs.
Jill suppressed a scream of anguish at Harry's harsh onslaught as her glazed eyes stared at the sight of her husband and Gay Sommers in the other room. Gay's warmly elastic cuntal sheath was molded wetly to Tom's wildly rampaging penis, clasping it almost defensively as Tom withdrew to plunge again into her eagerly receptive cunt from the rear, flexing his hips to drive the great hot poker of flesh into the very core of her being.
Jill hurtled her own tormented buttocks back against Harry's jackknifing penis in an almost reflexive action, but the involuntary movement only served to flower wider her passion-dampened cunt around Harry's lust-thickened cock, and he thrust savagely again. He was fucking into her with long looping thrusts of his loins, seeming to gain impetus from the very bottoms of his toes, reveling in the complete subjugation of this innocent young married woman whom he and his wife had so gleefully plotted to corrupt.
In the whirling confused brain of Jill Parker were hot thoughts of self loathing and self-pity, born of the liquor she'd drunk and of her hapless experiences of the past two days. She hated Harry and Tom and the entire damned stinking, mixed-up world. I'm a harlot, a common gutter whore, she thought piteously. I have sunk to the lowest of all depths with this act I'm now apart of. . . andl deserve this brutal rape of my body for having proven myself that I'm no better than a slut.
Harder and harder Harry rammed his thick mighty penis deep into her helplessly quivering vagina, and the pain at times was almost too much for
Jill to endure. He hammered his hairy loins against her defenselessly upturned ass cheeks. . . again and again and again. . . and his huge sperm laden balls cracked like a slap on the face against her softly wet crotch as he fucked his passion-hardened shaft into her tight little cunt with increasing fury.
The pain, the pain. . . the pain?
And then, as if by some strange act of benevolence, there was no more pain!
It had simply and magically vanished! For the first time in her life she was having painless sex!
For a brief moment, Jill felt nothing at all, though Harry was still burrowing hard and deep into her wetly throbbing cuntal passage with his heatedly immense cock. Then, slowly, little paroxysmic jolts of pleasure filled her belly and soon the little jolts of pleasure filled her belly . . . and soon the little jolts became bigger ones, became wild and wanton waves of desire that threatened to consume her body in one paramount enveloping wave. Her hips churned in an undulating cadence back against his rock-hard cock with increasing fervor, and little tentative mewls of pleasure escaped her throat. Her head flailed from side to side, and the lewd carnal picture of Tom. . . her beloved Tom . . . bucking and fucking into the wildly twisting vagina of Gay Sommers dimmed before her eyes.
Her mind tried desperately, vainly, to dispel the prurient sensations which now controlled her whole physical and mental being; it tried to tell her that what was happening to Gay, was also happening to her. . . that it was merely a carbon copy of the same filthy perversion, that she was being fucked. . . yes, that was the word, dog-fashion as Tom was fucking Harry's wife . . . But it was all useless, for crazily, impossibly, terribly, something strange and heretofore buried deep inside Jill Parker's subconscious mind had stirred and come to life. Something had been awakened, to give forth these new and frightening ripples of passion that were not, in spite of her mind's urgent suggestions, a product of her whorish submittal to her husband's boss.
Gone now, with the flight of pain, was the degradation of the act of which she was partaking -- and gone was the shame and the guilt and the fear and the self-pity and self loathing. They were gone, no more to return, and in their place were the surging inferno like fires which this lewd man and his hotly surging penis had branded forever in her hotly responding cunt and in her belly and in her soul. She was aroused, really aroused for the very first time in her life . . . yes, and she was responding, shamelessly, abandonly responding to a man . . . a man who wasn't even her husband, whom she cared nothing for, who was triumphantly fucking her while they watched her husband doing the same thing to his wife!
Jill's hips and loins swirled in ever-increasing submission now, attuning themselves to the hard strokes being heaved into her warmly clasping cuntal hole by Harry's gyrating pelvis and battering ram cock. She
liked it, it was good, good, soooooo goooood! Harder and harder she ground her eagerly rotating loins back against him, endeavoring to ingest more of his pleasure-giving cock deep into her very core, and then and then he stopped! For no apparent reason, Harry stopped and. . . Jill. . . gasping and panting . . . swiveled her head to look up at him with beseeching eyes that begged him to continue fucking her, to cum inside her and make her cum with him. Harry felt an intense burst of triumph, for he knew that he had snapped the barriers of her ethical and moral upbringing, initiated this young innocent forever into the carnal ways of the flesh, and that his massively throbbing cock embedded deeply in her honey-warm cunt was the battle stave which had earned him his title of vanquisher.
He wanted nothing more in that moment to continue to hammer forward into her tightly sweet young cunt until his sperm churning balls erupted with the great load of his hot seething cum; Christ knew, his testicles ached with the need for release at that moment. But if he did it that way, here in the doorway, the young bitch's husband would become aware of them there (he never could refrain from groaning aloud, when he came, and the way this hot little cunt had put herself into the job of fucking him once her moral shackles had been snapped, he knew that she would probably scream herself silly).
Holding Jill by the waist, Harry gently drew her up so that, although she was still nakedly humped over with his powerfully pulsating penis still planted firmly inside her hotly wet cunt, she was standing as he was. Her face, flushed a brilliant red, dotted with tiny drops of sweat, contorted from the pleasure-pain of his lust-hardened cock inside her tight little cunt, continued to look over her shoulder at him with confused, kitten-like eyes. Slowly, carefully, making sure that his wildly throbbing shaft did not slip from its clasping elastic sheath, Harry quietly closed the door between the two rooms, and then guided the naked young blonde wife away from the doorway and across the room in a hobbling, ludicrous manner. It might have been almost laughable if it had not been for the fact that both were so near cumming, that their muscles were taut and straining with the need for crashing, billowing release. Jill, completely subjugated, her mind awash with her newfound excitement and need, did not even realize except in a dim, peripheral way that she was being led away from the lewd carnal sight of her husband and Gay Sommers' bodies locked nakedly together.
Then, at last, Harry was easing Jill forward, down onto the sofa in the living room. She knelt there on all fours, gratefully, expectantly, her long damp blonde hair fanning out on the spread below and her smoothly rounded young buttocks upraised in a pagan offering to his every whim. Harry, panting from exertion and lust, dug both hands into the tender warmth of the softly yielding ass cheeks, spreading them wide. Then he poised his still inserted cock with the head just inside the warm wet vaginal channel . . . and finally heaved forward savagely once again to impale the trembling young wife on his rocklike flesh.
"Oooooo ooooooaaaaaaahhhhhhhh, God!" cried Jill, unable to restrain the agonized and yet rapturous moan which burst from her throat. "Oh God, oh God, oooohhhhh God!"
She was his! Harry thought gloatingly. She was goddamned well his. now, and whenever he wanted her again! He knew it, he felt sure of it;
things would go according to plan later, when she and her husband Tom confronted one another with their mutual infidelities . . . as he knew they would. He was seldom wrong about such things.
He drew his lust-heavy penis almost all the way out of her sweet little cunt and then slammed home again with demonical force, drew out, slammed home with increasing tempo. He was near cumming, and he knew she was too. Her fists hammered on the sofa, she made cooing, moaning sound, and her firm resilient breasts danced wildly below her swirling, churning torso. Harry bucked and twisted into her, kneading her tight young buttocks convulsively, wrapping her hotly moistened cuntal flesh tight around his thick pistoning shaft. He was unable to hear his wife and Tom Parker in the other room and gratefully realized that they couldn't hear him either.
Jill's turmoiled mind was half-insane with the new and consuming passions flooding her body, and she buffeted crazily back against the heaving belly of her husband's boss. Strange spiraling sensations were beginning to filter through her now sensations which she knew portended an orgasm -- an orgasm! A real orgasm, one that consumed the whole body and mind with bliss and rapture! The kind of climax she had always dreamed of having with her husband, the kind which meant fully and irrevocably that physical love between a man and a woman, a husband and a wife, had achieved its beauteous and ultimate end.
The very thought of it caused her to eagerly grind her warmly tingling buttocks back and match Harry's thrusts with perfectly timed ones of her own in an ever ascending frenzy. She had to cum, she had to achieve that rapturous orgasm Her mind instructed her vocal chords, and the thought found words.
"I want to cum, I want to have an orgasm, I want to have an orgasm, I'm going to cum, going to orgasm , orgasm, orgasm, Orgasssssmmmmmmmmm!"
With those wailing, little-girlish words ringing n his ears, Harry was no longer able to control himself His impending release happened before he could even think, and he thudded and grunted into her with a wild maniacal force as his heavily swaying balls slapped hard against her soft moist furrow and the first hot, fiery torrent of cum shot upward through the unseeing eye of his great jerking cock and flooded the helplessly trembling cervix and womb of the groaning young wife.
"Oh Jesus, ohhhhhhhhhh!" he howled, kneading her soft, sensitive ass globes convulsively with his nails, leaving angry red marks in the
warmly pliant flesh. Gusher after gusher of his sticky white cum, like an oil well gone berserk, filled her eagerly milking cuntal passage to the brim.
Jill felt the tremendous sensation of the hot spurting semen lashing against her innermost womanhood, and in that single moment of knowledge, her wish was fulfilled . . . fulfilled as she had hoped it would be. She came! Oh God, yes, she came and came and came!
It was like taking a wild hallucinogenic ride on a merry-go-round, that cumming, for she felt as if she were spinning and spinning and that there were beautiful, lovely colored lights all around and that music was playing . . . calliope music, happy and gay and wonderful . . . all around her and inside her head too. Incomprehensible gurgles bubbled ecstatically from her graceful white throat, and coarse bleating sounds came from Harry commingled with them as his cum was commingling with hers . . . and they came together, came screamingly together.
The impact of that orgasm was so great on the mind and the body of the innocent young woman, that her mind was carried off to another world, and she did not even feel Harry's thick deflated penis pop wetly from her semen-flooded vagina. Nor did she feel him lower his head and plant a possessive and yet thankful kiss on the warm dampness of her warmly twitching vaginal lips. She did not even hear her husband, Tom, scream in a high-pitched voice when he began filling the insatiable cunt of Gay Sommers with his own fiery hot semen in the next room.
Chapter Five
Jill Parker stared miserably at the ceiling above her head, and trembled underneath the thin bedspread. Her mind raced wildly from one contrary emotion to the next, tripping over her conscience, stumbling continually against the shameful image of what she had allowed to be done to her that day. And always, her thoughts found no escape, no refuge from the awful realization that something terrible was happening to her. Something over which she had absolutely no control. Jill tossed and turned on the bed, trying to think of some solution, but none came to her. Instead she could think of nothing but the horrible events of that morning.
After the episode in the living room with Harry Sommers, Jill had been overwhelmed by a sense of shame and debasement. She and Harry had quickly dressed themselves and left the cottage, to avoid discovery by Jill's husband and Harry's wife, who were at that moment themselves spent by the violence of their fierce passion. Harry had invited her up to the bar for another drink, but Jill had curtly refused, and gone by herself for a long walk along the edge of a beautiful stream that ran through the artificially irrigated plushness of Hidden Valley Resort's large acreage. By the time
she'd returned, and timidly knocked at the door to her cottage before entering, Tom and Gay were gone.
And now, huddled in her bed, Jill's mind was tormented by a sick, intense self-hate once again, now that she had returned to the world of the rational. She knew she had committed an unforgivable sin, that of adultery, infidelity; and she knew that something was terribly wrong with her, emotionally. Perhaps she needed psychiatric help, perhaps she was actually some kind of psychotic. How else could she explain to herself her actions:
allowing a near stranger to take her from the rear, while she watched her own husband engaged in doing the self same obscene act with the other man's wife?
Jill moaned aloud, wretchedly. She didn't know what to do, whom to turn to. She was alone and soiled and evil now, and there was no one to whom she could go who would offer her sympathy in the time of this terrible crisis. Not Tom, oh God surely not Tom! He was as guilty as she, as evilly wicked as she, and it didn't matter which of them had taken the first step.
It would not be so terrible, so encompassingly monstrous, if she had failed to experience any pleasure from her transgression with Harry Sommers . . . if she had failed to have the awesomely rapturous orgasm, that she undeniably had, had.
Jill's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Tom entering their cottage. He made a good deal of noise coming in, slamming the door open so that the knob slapped hard against the inner wall and then whipping it shut with a reverberating crash. His footsteps, coming toward the bedroom, were heavy and angry and somehow foreboding.
Then he suddenly appeared in the doorway, his lips set tightly and his eyes glowing with anger. His hands were clenched into fists, and a tic made the left side of his face spasm grotesquely. Lying on the bed, Jill's eyes locked with those of her husband as he advanced toward her; she was afraid, for she knew what was about to happen, the confrontation which was about to take place between them and the extent of Tom's volatile anger . . . and yet, strangely, she wasn't afraid of him at all, wasn't afraid of physical harm or of the words which were sure to be said. That paradoxical and ambivalent mixture of feelings made her very calm, but also very rigid.
When Tom reached the side of the bed, he stopped and glared malice down at his lovely young wife.
"You goddamned cheating bitch!" he said in a cold, soft, bitter voice. "You good for nothing tramp. Fucking another man! Giving him what you refused to give me all the time we've been married!"
Jill just lay there, meeting his gaze. She deserved his wrath, just as he deserved hers. Neither of them was blameless. And yet, she hoped very much that through some strange act of fate this mutual infidelity of theirs might have broken down the wall which had grown between them. Because she loved him, loved him now more than ever before. But even as she
thought these things, Jill felt an ominous voice of doom prophesying that her hopes were vain ones, and that by reason of what had happened today, the last possible hope of a re-establishment of their love and their marriage was forever cast to the wind.
"Oh yes," Tom said contemptuously as he loomed over her. "I know what you did last night, my sweet little slut of a wife. I know that you let Harry Sommers fuck you. I know because I saw part of what you did in some pictures the bastard arranged; seems his wife got hold of them and came to me.
"And what did you do then?" asked Jill very softly.
"What the hell do you mean, what did I do then?"
"You fucked her, didn't you, Tom?" Jill said, only a little surprised at the ease with which the obscene word came from her lips. "You fucked Gay Sommers."
Tom recoiled as if he had been struck, and some of the high flush of anger receded from his cheeks. His lower lips seemed to quiver. He was shocked both by his wife's use of the word fuck, a word which she had always hated before now, and by her apparent knowledge of his unfaithfulness.
"How. . ." he stammered, "how did you. . . ?"
"How did I know?" Jill asked with a sad, humorless smile. "I know because I saw you, Tom. I saw you fucking her. I saw you and I was sick and aroused, and Harry Sommers gave me some drinks so that I was drunk, too. Do you know what I did then? I let Harry fuck me from behind, like one animal fucks another, right there in the doorway, while I watched you! I let him do the thing you thought he'd done to me last night, the thing Irefusedto let him do last night."
Tom's handsome, ruddy face was a mask of confusion; he didn't understand, couldn't comprehend, the magnitude of what his wife was saying. And then, one irrefutable fact of her confession seeped into his brain: she had willingly given herself to Harry Sommers while watching him and Gay!
"You god damn whore slut bitch!" he screamed in mindless, irrational rage. His pride was crushed by her bland admission of guilt
"Yes, that's exactly what I am Tom" Jill said with tears in her eyes. "But are you any better? Aren't we one and the same thing?"
"No!" he bellowed. But, deep down inside, he knew that she was right he was no better than she, no better to have allowed Gay to seduce him, to have given in to his animal instincts in spite of himself He could no longer be righteously indignant, for he had committed the same sin as his wife, had done what she had done and he knew it. And yet, somehow, his masculine ego Wouldn't allow him to be rational on the subject. He had to strike out at her, punish her, hurt her in some way. .
The thought came all at once and consumed him with a raging fire of anger and lust. He would rape. her, as he had raped her last night, really give it to her, punish her and hurt her for what she had done to him. He felt his dully pulsating penis leap to life in his pants, and his hands came up and began to unbutton his shirt while he leered down at his wife, all reason gone from his mind now in the face of this one, all consuming action.
"What . . . what are you going to do, Tom?" Jill pleaded hesitantly, staring up at him, suddenly fearful again.
"I'm going to fuck you," he hissed. "I'm going to fuck you like Sommers fucked you."
"Tom, no. . . Oh God, no."
"Why not? I'll bet you didn't tell Harry no."
"Not this way, please not through anger and hate. . . darling . . . we can work this out.
"The hell not this way!" Tom had his shirt off now, and he was working on his trousers.
Momentarily, he was naked, his immense, angrily swollen cock popping out from his loins like some impossibly rigid snake, the first faint traces of his complete arousal evident as lubricating fluid sheened the lust bloated tip. He stood there for a moment, and then he reached down and pulled the bedspread away from his wife's huddled form.
Surprise registered on Tom's face as he saw that Jill was completely naked, but then it was replaced by renewed fury as he comprehended why. He threw himself down on the bed, brutally grasped her sensually ripened body, and pressed his rock-hard penis against her velvety warm thigh as one hand closed over one of her proud young breasts .
Jill felt her husband's warmly beating cock pressing against her nakedly defenseless thigh, and suddenly, incredibly, she felt a stirring of passion in her innermost recesses! But . . . but that wasn't possible! How could she be aroused? No, it must be something else, something else other than passion . . . but no, no, he was squeezing and manipulating her sensitive breasts and the nipple had grown into rigidity and the pulsating hardness against her leg felt hot and exciting and enticing. She felt her so recently ravished vagina begin to heatedly moisten her inner walls, and her clitoris tingled with delicious anticipation. She wanted him! Dear God, impossible though it was, she wanted him . . . wanted him more than she had ever thought it possible to want him . . . or any man. She wanted him in spite of the fact that she knew he was about to rape her, was about to hurt her! Something had happened to her, all right; there was no denying it now. Some strange and inexplicable transformation had occurred in her body, brought about by Harry Sommer's thick bludgeoning cock inside her sensually awakened cunt and her own magnificent orgasm, causing her to want and need and desire sexual gratification even under the most adverse of circumstances . . . Yes, and to desire her husband, to desire Tom for the first real time since they had been married . .
Tom, holding her, kissing her neck and her nakedly uplifted breasts in careless abandon, now sensed a certain relaxing in Jill, sensed more than a submission, what was really a joining in, but his mind refused to dwell on it at that moment. Another thought had given birth there, and it was all-consuming.
He was going to kiss his wife's cunt!
It was a desire he had long harbored, a desire which at times was acutely intense, for she had such a sweet little cunt, and he knew that to kiss and lick and suck it would be sheer heaven. He had broached the subject to her before, but she had always refused, saying that was a perversion, a sick, filthy thing that only whores and their pimps allowed to happen between them. Well, he wasn't a pimp, and he'd gone down on a few women before he was married; it wasn't a perversion, and it sure as hell wasn't filthy. It was one of the truly great experiences a man could have; and a woman...
His massively excited cock throbbing with the pure salaciousness of the idea, Tom raised up, breaking his embrace, and leered down into the sweat-moistened face of his beautiful young wife.
"You know what I'm going to do now?" he asked with panting harshness. "I'm going to go down on you, Jill. I'm going to put my mouth on your pussy, and lick and suck you between your legs with my lips and my tongue!"
The sheer obsceneness of his words caused Jill to gasp, her eyes going wide. No, no! she thought in horror. No, that. . . that's sick.
that's evil and wrong. I won `t allow you to put your mouth on me THERE, to kiss me like that and put your tongue inside me, kiss me and lick me and suckle me, kiss me, kiss me.
And suddenly, the horror was no more. In its place, fully and beyond recall, there came new strangely reeling waves of shameless passion. In her mind, then, Jill could picture her husband's head bobbing and slaving down there between her widespread legs, his warm wet tongue licking and sucking . . . And she could feel his moistly ovalled mouth on her, could feel his tongue flicking into her . . . Oh God, it was wrong and lewd and perverse, but she knew that she wanted him to do it, wanted him to kiss her that way and make her have another orgasm . . . she knew she not only could but would have another one, whether from his penis or his mouth.
she had to have an orgasm, a better one than that she had achieved with Harry Sommers, with her husband; she suddenly realized that, because therein lay the answer to the saving of their marriage! So simple, all so simple, and so workable, too, because she was different somehow, a different and emancipated woman inside. .
She opened her eyes and looked into Tom's face and said, "Yes, my darling, yes-yes-yes! Put your mouth on my vagina, kiss it and lick it!" she undulated her hips in an unconcealed eagerness, splaying her legs wide to
reveal the naked, hair-fringed expanse of her heatedly moistened cunt. "I want you to, I want you to!"
Tom stared at her, aghast. Jesus Christ! Had he heard right? Had she actually. . . actually said that she wanted him to go down on her? Some of the rage drained out of him, and he stared at her with a mixture of incredulity and growing heat on his face. "You can't . . . mean that, Jill .
he managed.
"Yes, yes, I mean it! Put your head down between my thighs, kiss my cunt, Tom darling, hurry and kiss it! I'm dying to feel your wonderful kisses there."
Her eyes were closed in passion, and her hands were moving convulsively up and down over her smooth curving hips in anticipation, her naked buttocks almost obscenely twisting and lifting off the bed. He couldn't fathom this complete reversal in his heretofore cold and unresponsive wife, and the confusion dissolved most of the anger he felt at her infidelity, dissolved the need to strike back at her for what he had felt was a slight on his masculine pride. Now, there was only the uncertainty of the change in her, the complete reversal of form . . . and yes, there was the passion too, brought about by her concession to him, her begging him to perform an act on her that she had always thought to be too vulgar, her wanton twisting and contorting on the bed in an obvious uncontrolled lust.
And then, with his long thick cock hammering excitedly, and his sperm-bloated balls aching for release, Tom's lustful excitement grew in increasing measures. Suddenly, he didn't care about anything except going down on his wife, kissing her succulent young cunt as she had begged him to do, kissing her and kissing her and making her cum, making her respond to him for the first time .
Quickly, breathing in ragged gasps, Tom slid down on the bed until he was poised between her wide stretched and trembling legs. He stared down at her prominent pubic mound and the softly wet pinkish slit hidden below the softly curling hairs, and her clitoris like a quivering miniature phallus nestled there in moist passion. He could wait no longer then, and with a little cry of intense and long denied hunger, he pressed his lips forward and skewered his hot, hard wet tongue deep into the warmly perfumed recesses of her honey sweet cuntal channel.
"Aaaaaaaahhhhh!" screamed Jill in rapture as she felt for the first time the exquisite sensation of a man's tongue being thrust into her hotly throbbing vagina. Her body convulsively jerked and her legs shot upward and pulled back so that her knees rested against her trembling, hard-nippled breasts -- presenting the full naked panorama of her eager young cunt to his mouth.
Tom reveled in his young wife's soft open furrow, his wetly ovalled lips and tongue making obscene wanton slurping sounds. His hands curled around her passionately trembling legs, pulling her firm young thighs close to the sides of his head to imprison it between them, and his fingers slipped
into the valley between her sweat-sheened ass cheeks to pull her desire soaked vaginal slit wider still to the lewd oral penetration of her genitals. His fleshy tongue lapped upward and located the erect button of her clitoris; he used his teeth to nip it excruciatingly. She cried out in agonizing pleasure at the contact, and jerked hard at his hair as he licked and nibbled at the sensitive nub of her womanhood.
Jill's long, honey colored hair whipped from side to side on the pillow, and she heaved and bucked her nakedly excited cunt tight up against his face, squeezing his ears with her inner thighs. Oh God, it was better than she imagined it would be! How could she have so long denied her husband and herself this wondrous experience? It felt as if his tongue were a hot poker invading her genitals, but such a deliciously sweet hot poker that she never wanted it to be removed . . . how could anything this tremendously pleasurable be wrong and wicked, as she was taught to believe, as she so long accepted with blind faith. .
Faster and deeper and harder was Tom's mouth fucking his lovely wife's flailing body now, sliding his long hard shaft far into her wetly clasping vaginal orifice, tasting her secretions, like ambrosia in his mouth. His face was wet with her scented cuntal juices and with the sweat of his passion, and her cunt smelled as sweet as perfume, as sweet as wildflowers in spring, and her cunt hair and pussylips were softer than a baby's skin against his cheeks and nose and lips. He kneaded and manipulated deeper and deeper in her hotly throbbing vaginal passage, and it was just as he had long known it would be, this licking and sucking between his wife's widespread legs. She'd changed . . . it was impossible, but it was true and he had never been more thankful . . . Jesus, this was what he had waited all these years for, this moment, this responsiveness, this bliss and fulfilling experience of togetherness. His tongue leapt into the searingly liquid depths of her cunt again and again, and she cried out for him, screamed his name as he fucked her time and again with his hot tongue and burning wet lips. In her mindless passion, she pulled loose tufts of his hair, pounded her heels on his back, jerked and twisted and wantonly bucked her naked young body hard up against his voracious mouth's merciless assault on her loins.
Jill's mind was like a soaring eagle, flying far and high, farther and higher than any other mortal creature or human . . . had ever dared to ascend before. The episode with Harry Sommers was nothing compared to this! She could feel her orgasm coming closer and closer . . . oh God, she was almost there, almost there! It was going to be the most incredible and beautiful moment imaginable. .
She screamed Tom's name over and over again, screamed out her newfound passion and newfound ideal: "I'm going to cum, going to cum my darling, I'm going to cummmmmm, aaaaaggggggghhhhhhh!"
And she was there, cumming, cumming to make that which she had known with Harry seem to be a frustration emptiness, cumming with her
husband's hot, slavering, feverishly-darting tongue swirling around deep in her wildly rejoicing vagina and his warm wonderful lips glued to her quivering pussylips while his hands squeezed and kneaded her soft white flesh. She screamed again and again, and then she was soaring farther and higher than any other creature, mortal or human, had ever soared before, flying free and superbly emancipated there among the drifting, soft white clouds .
She came back slowly, ever so slowly, and lay with Tom's head cradled in her wetly pulsating loins and his saliva mixing with the secretions of her incredible orgasm. They lay there like that for a time, and then, tenderly, lovingly, she drew him up over her and with an exploratory hand found that his desire-hardened penis was still rigid and trembling. He had not had his release, and she wanted him to know some semblance of that which she had just known.
"Fuck me, Tom," she whispered softly into his ear, a smile of true peace of her face. "Fuck me now, my darling."
"Will . . . will you . . . be able to cum with me?" he panted.
"Yes, darling. Oh yes, yes, yes!"
And he fucked her . . . no, loved her, for it was more now than a mere physical gratification on both their parts, it was love. He made love to her, and she went soaring again when he emptied his sperm-heavy balls far up into her wildly ecstatic vagina moments later, soaring higher even than the last time .
And higher still the next time they made love that night, and higher the next, and still higher the next .
Chapter Six
Jill opened her eyes slowly the next morning, and gazed tenderly at the still sleeping form of her husband on the bed next to her. She smiled with satiated happiness, hardly able to believe that the events of the preceding night had really happened, that it wasn't all just a dream she had forged from her previous torment and frustration. But it wasn't a dream:
she was here, and her husband was next to her, and together they had discovered the first fragile seeds of what Jill knew could be the rebirth of their marriage.
Tenderly, with almost motherly affection, she reached over and touched Tom's hirsute chest, gazed with unparalleled admiration at the body of the man who had brought her so much pleasure, had brought her to a level of ecstasy which Harry Sommers, for all his sexual prowess, could never match . . . could never match because, with Tom, that ecstasy was not only physical, but the result of the deep love she felt for him. She
couldn't explain what had happened the last two days, and she didn't even want to try. All she knew was that she was happy, unbelievably happy for the first time in a long, long while.
"I love you, Tom," she whispered. "I love you more than I ever knew."
Tom stirred, and then slowly opened his eyes to find his wife smiling at him. He blinked, as though he too were unable to fathom how, from the depths of despair, they had been able to find their love for each other in one beautiful night, a love which, though hidden, must have survived through all the three years of their embattled marriage.
"Good morning," he said simply, reaching out to caress her nakedly exposed breast.
"Good morning," she whispered in answer, and snuggled closer to him and the beautiful feeling of his hand on her nakedness. His fingers slowly felt the warm moon shape of her proud young breast, and he rubbed the erect little nipple with loving care and intensity.
"What a great way to wake up," Tom smiled, "with my hand on your breast like this."
"That's because we're in love, darling."
"We've always been in love, Jill. But never like this. It's never been this good."
Jill smiled, and rolled her lushly ripened body closely up against his, cradling her head on his muscular arm.
"I guess you're right, darling," she breathed. "And it's all my fault . I see that now. I've been so blind, so.
"It's been both our faults, Jill. Mine as well as yours."
"Maybe so," Jill smiled. "But that's all going to change now. I know it is."
"Is it?" Tom asked lovingly.
"Yes, it is. I know now that . . . I have been cold. Cold because of all kinds of fears and inhibitions I've had for so long, so long, so long Tom, you couldn't believe. When I think of how long I've been a slave to some kind of false morality, how all those things I thought were right were really only destroying me
"I know, baby. I know."
"But it's going to be different now. It really is. I'm free now, Tom." Her eyes searched out his, and then gazed at the tiny twists of hair on his manly chest. "Or, at least I'm more free. I know now I can be the kind of wife you've always wanted, always deserved to have."
"You mean because of what happened yesterday, with Harry Sommers?"
"Yes, partially," Jill answered, looking up into her husband's face to find the love and understanding she knew would be there. "I couldn't explain what happened yesterday if I wanted to, which I don't."
"And neither do I," Tom said fervently.
"But it's more than the fact that we . . . that we were adulterous with the Sommers. If it were only that, last night couldn't have been as beautiful as it was. But it was beautiful, darling, it was incredibly beautiful." She lowered her eyes, as a slight flush came to her cheeks. "Maybe Harry Sommers did make me aware of the fact that I was a slave to my fears of sex, but it was you who freed me, Tom."
Tom felt a huge lump rise in his throat at his wife's words, and he realized that he loved this beautiful young girl more than anything in the world. He put his arms around her, and studied her face with infinite tenderness. She had changed, there was no doubt about that. She had seemingly opened up her spiritual wells and become as a sexual partner must be: eager, willing, demanding. He kissed her lovingly, and then smiled down into her innocently upturned face.
"Then I guess we should thank the Sommers for bringing us back together."
"Maybe," Jill frowned. "But that certainly wasn't their intention."
"How do you mean?"
"I mean I think the whole thing was planned from start to finish, Tom! There are just too many coincidences for it to be anything else. For instance, when Harry and I came in and found. . . found you and Gay here
Tom reached over and touched his wife, as though trying by his touch to relieve her from that terrible memory. ". . . well, the only way he got me here was to say that Gay wanted to meet me, when he must have known all along that she was with you. And then, I don't see how he could have taken those pictures you were talking about without my knowing.
Again, Jill's voice trailed off as she grew embarrassed over the memory of what she had done, or rather, what had been done to her.
"I thing you may be right, baby," Tom agreed. "I mean Gay's whole story was phony as hell now that I look back on it."
"But it didn't seem phony then?"
Tom looked down at his wife, and reached an arm up to stroke her golden hair, tangled and unruly from the previous night's activities.
"No, it didn't," he answered. "I guess I was just too hurt and too angry."
"And too aroused?" Jill smiled teasingly.
"Yes, that too," Tom grinned back at her. "Are you angry with the Sommers?"
"No . . . no, I don't think so," Jill said slowly. "They were out for their own gratification, I guess, but I don't care about their motives. They gave us back to one another last night, and that's what's important to me."
"And to me, too." Tom smiled fondly at his wife, and the urge to make love to her grew strong within his loins. His virile young cock became erect, tenting the sheets, and he reached out his hand again and caressed the soft warm flesh of her breast once more. Little ripples of pleasure made Jill tingle and she gasped with a mewling sigh.
Yes, yes . . . this is what she wanted. A responsive body and an appreciative husband. And love, lots of physical copulation with him to forever cement the bond between them. She had to have him again, now, in the morning, which previously she had thought to be an over-abuse of body functions. She curled around his questing hand, and in turn delved beneath the sheet with her own fingers. Down over his tautly tensed abdomen, down lower to the first tendrils of his pubic hair. . . down until she touched the now fully erect shaft of his penis. Tom groaned involuntarily, her fingers being like warm feathers of sensuality, and took his other hand and placed it up between her rapidly dampening thighs. She willingly splayed her . . . wantonly undulating her hips up against his hand so that her warmly moistened vagina and crevice were being rubbed. Her tiny clitoris peeked out of its hair-lined, flesh-rimmed nest and quivered upright with a new life.
"I. . . love you, Tom," she moaned, pressing closer.
"I love you, Jill . . . and I need you . . . came the passionate answer of her aroused husband.
*
*
*
Two hours later, Jill and Tom lay together, satiated and warm and very much in love. They were half asleep, almost groggy. after their record bout of fucking. A knock on the front door startled them into awareness.
"I'll get it, dear," Tom said. He rose from the bed, and Jill caught a glimpse of his limp, satiated cock and his leathery scrotum hitting his thigh as he jumped out. He walked to the door. "Yes?"
"Good morning, Tom!" came the hearty voice of Harry Sommers through the wood. "We'd like to come in if we may."
"Well . . ." Tom looked into the bedroom at his wife as though she could supply the answer as to whether he should open the door. She shrugged her shoulders.
"Might as well. They're persistent . . . and as I said, I'm not ashamed to face them," she said.
"We're not dressed," Tom called to Harry.
"That's all right. Neither are we. Just robes on."
"Well, give me a second, all right?" Tom said, and moved quickly back into the bedroom where he jumped under the sheets.
"Come in," he called out loudly.
The front door opened and Gay stepped in the room, smiling brightly. She was wearing a robe, but it was mainly see-through net, and all but the nipples of her proudly quivering breasts and the lower portion of her pubic mound were visible. Her full ripe buttocks swayed unhindered as she walked, and in spite of the fact that only minutes before he had ejaculated heavy spurts of his semen inside his wife, Tom couldn't help gluing his eyes on her voluptuously promising body. His long turgid penis,
which he had thought had become completely satiated from the night and morning of lovemaking with Jill, gave a new twinge of life. He couldn't believe it! The more he ogled Gay Sommers the more he was overcome by her abandoned blatancy . . . and the more excited he became.
"Did you know there's a connecting garden between our two cottages?" Gay laughed. "We sneaked up here through the rose bushes."
Jill could understand how her husband had been attracted by Gay. As this wife of her husband's boss eased herself into the bedroom's one chair and crossed her legs, which sent the "robe" falling in both directions from her full firm thighs, Jill saw she was in her full glory. In spite of herself, Jill felt a small amount of jealousy. Gay's breasts were so large and round, yet without sag as so many other women experience when full breasted, and her thin waist accented her perfectly proportioned thighs, buttocks and legs. Jill couldn't blame Tom for being drawn into her web of passion.
Then Harry Sommers entered, smiling expansively. He wore a silk robe, scarlet and black, with a satin sash tied loosely around his middle. Jill had the strange, tantalizing suspicion that he wore nothing under the gown, just as it was obvious that Gay was naked beneath her wrap. For an instant she had the lewd thought pervade her mind of undoing the sash and letting the robe fall open so that she could view the magnificent penis and burly sac of testicles which had wreaked their delicious havoc upon her the previous day. A shock of prurient desire jolted through her, one which she tried to quash but couldn't, and her hands trembled as they clutched the sheet up around her throat.
"What brings you here?" Tom asked, sitting up in bed.
"Well," Harry began, "We wanted to discuss what happened yesterday." He looked significantly first at Tom, then at Jill; Jill had promised herself not to be embarrassed or ashamed, but she felt the hot flood of blushing redness in her cheeks as Harry's eyes fell on her.
"We wanted to know if there were any . . . ah, repercussions over what took place." He paused. "That is, if Jill told you what she saw and did, Tom, and you in turn told her of your actions."
Tom looked over at Jill and smiled. He put his hand on her face tenderly.
"Yes, we've told each other. And for your information, we appreciate what happened. It has brought us closer together."
"Excellent!" said Harry. "We were afraid it might have caused you to become further alienated from each other. In fact, if you two hadn't made a clean breast of the affair, we were going to, now. Just so that there wouldn't be any buildup of suspicion and hatred, you understand. Truth and openness is the best policy between marrieds, I always say."
"Both my husband and I," interjected Gay, "were convinced that both of you had almost fathomless untapped resources of love and devotion. We felt that somehow you, alone, hadn't been able to make use of these, as is so often the case. Too close to the subject, as it were. We believed that
once confronted with wife swapping, confronted and participated in, it would act as the catalyst to open those virgin fields. It looks, Harry," she added, glancing at her husband, "as though we were right."
"Wife swapping . . ." Jill repeated, savoring the lurid phrase like some bittersweet candy. "Wife swapping. Yes, that's what it was, all right."
"I assume that you do this often," Tom said.
"As often as possible," Gay admitted.
"It's helped us just as it helped you, Tom,"
Harry Sommers said. "Our physical enjoyment has been enhanced a thousand-fold, for the different partners have each contributed their different variation to an act which can otherwise grow stale and familiar. Moreover, the mere fact of dropping the confines of unnecessary and puritanical inhibitions has made our physical gratification more complete, more overwhelming, much more fulfilling."
"Then . . . all this is out of sheer lust?" broke in Jill.
"No, not at all, my dear," answered Harry calmly. "Please understand that group sex doesn't mean that we are in love with the other partners .
but at the same time, neither does that negate the presence of love. I love Gay very much, Jill."
"But how. .
"How does our marriage stay together?" Harry chuckled. "It stays together the same way that yours has stayed together after yesterday. It stays together out of love, and because when we have relations, it means more than just lust by itself We know it means more, because we experience lust to its fullest, and it can never touch our enjoyment as lovers. I try harder, and Gay does too, and together with gratification we add heart and soul." He stared at Tom intently. "Isn't that what happened to you afterwards?"
"What? I .
"Didn't you make love last night, and. . . this morning?"
Jill blushed again, but she heard herself say, "Yes, yes we did, and it was wonderful. I enjoyed the sex we had together yesterday, Harry, but it wasn't as good as with Tom."
"Exactly my point!" cried Harry. "And . . . aren't you closer?"
"We said we were," Tom agreed. He looked over at his wife and the sign of love which passed between them was unmistakable. "We came together as lovers . . because we had been with others as sex partners."
Harry walked over to the edge of the bed, and looked down into Jill's eyes, which were troubled now.
"I see hesitation in your eyes, my dear Jill," he said. "Don't be afraid, it's obvious that your love for Tom and his for you is unshakable. And I say this: what was enhanced by one swap can only be made better by another."
"Are. . . are you suggesting another swap?" gasped Tom.
"Yes, he is," Gay said with a smile. "And so am I."
Jill stammered, choking on the bluntness of his request. "Why . . . I
"You liked my penis in your vagina yesterday," he said. "And you, Tom, didn't you enjoy my wife's lovely body?"
Tom remained silent but his answer was written all over his face. Gay stood and languorously approached the bed, brushing the palm of her hand down her golden thighs, undulating her hips and smiling with the tip of her tongue licking her lips.
"I know, Tom," she said huskily. "I know it's hard at first to put your true emotions out in the open, especially in front of your wife.
Tom groaned aloud. Jill looked down at his squirming form under the covers. The bulge in the sheet . . . yes! He was hard again! He DID want this woman! A searing flash of the truth forced her to gasp, and she began to quiver. Tom had just finished making love to her. . . and he wants to lay with Gay Sommers! To place his erect penis, not yet dry from her orgasm, into another woman's vagina! She should be horrified. . . but she wasn't . . . she wasn't . . . she was excited too!
And suddenly, as suddenly as the realization had hit that her husband lusted for another woman, she found herself looking at Harry with passionate eyes. Pinpricks of terror at the idea of repeating yesterday's circus of perversion mingled with the tingling and building forces of her newfound desires. Jill was forced to admit to herself that she was trapped
trapped by moral and ethical commandments on one hand, and trapped by her suddenly licentious body on the other.
"No. . . " moaned Jill, but it was too late. Sensing her desire, Harry untied the knot in his robe's sash. There was no hindering Jill's eyes as her gaze fell hungrily on the now bared pubic growth as the robe fell open before her. His great thick penis was standing straight from his pubic growth, and nestled in the folds of his thighs were his two great sacs of sperm-loaded testicles. Jill shivered and squirmed in the bed, and squeezed her legs tightly together to stop the impossible rising tide of her unwanted passion; and her wetly throbbing vagina, still warm and tingling from Tom's recent assaulting, flowed anew. The scintillating sight of Harry's massively erect cock seemed to fill her belly with electricity, with a new charge of sensual obsession.
Even Tom was stunned by the sudden appearance of his boss' lust-hardened organ. His mind couldn't understand how his wife could have taken its huge thickness inside her tight little cunt . . . but he had to believe for the fact was that she had been fucked by this man the day before . . while he had fucked Gay.
Gay sucked in her breath when her husband exposed his desire thickened penis. She gazed warmly at his black-bushed groin and warm throbbing cock, and her mouth salivated with heated intensity. Slowly, with motions practices to perfection, she loosened her diaphanous wrap and threw it back upon the chair. She moaned in her pagan nakedness, and
rubbed her passion-quivering breasts with her hands . . . she was alive and wild, and was totally beyond any control of modesty.
Tom panted and moaned, the sight of this bewitchingly naked woman making agonizing flare-ups of sexual fire fill his blood. Jill, captivated as she was by Harry's hotly throbbing cock and balls, could only move her hands across the sheet to the "vee" of her thighs and pull and prod her vaginal area through the material in an effort to assuage some of the consuming lust which was making her body an electric ganglion of thrills.
"Come," beckoned Harry to Jill, his face a mask of carnal lechery and his hand stretched out to her in summons. "I want you . . . now, my dear. And you want me. And let's leave Tom and Gay to their games of love while we indulge ourselves in the same. Come .
As if mesmerized by the sights and sounds which engulfed her, Jill could only whimper and respond mechanically. She breathed harder and harder, her lungs almost bursting, and faster her hands moved as they teased her wetly pulsating vagina through the cloth. She looked from Harry to his wife and saw that she was not alone in the lewd throes of self-masturbation . . . Gay's hands had left her full sensuous breasts and were rubbing her pink fluted cunt, her outstretched right forefinger a blur of frenzied motion.
No! Jill's mind screamed, but her brain was a whirling dervish of seething erotic desires, and the dual display of naked lasciviousness, and her own husband's complete arousal sent it spinning yet faster. But her resistance was useless, and she found herself pulling back the bed sheet and exposing her own fine and lusting body.
"Come. . come . . ." intoned Harry, stepping back a pace.
Jill crawled over the almost uncovered Tom, and as she did, the sheet fell down farther and her husband's desire-bloated penis and heavily straining testicles hove into view. Jill hardly took notice, for her senses were as if gauze had been placed over them, so great were her inner furnaces of unrequited craving. She took Harry's extended hand, and together they nakedly stepped through the door into the living room.
She did not see Gay's eyes widen in sudden hunger at the sight of Tom's thick waving penis as it stood proudly from his groin, or hear the woman's guttural cry of passion, nor even Tom's parting words to her.
"I love you, Jill. . . remember, darling, I love you"
Then Gay's tongue fell upon his eagerly jerking cock. She moved onto the bed and dropped to her knees, never letting her voraciously licking tongue slide from his lust-thickened pole of hot male flesh. She pulled away and Tom moaned as she bathed his quivering thighs with warm wet lappings, and then she touched the sac of his testicles lightly and returned to his long hard cock. She licked and licked. . . and then took the entire penile shaft into her hungrily clasping mouth. She sucked greedily and Tom forgot about his wife.
About what had happened in spite of his and Jill's fervent avowals to resist. Forgot everything in the world except the feeling which was emanating from his warmly suckled cock.
*
*
*
"You're more beautiful today than you were yesterday," breathed Harry Sommers into Jill's shell-like ear. "I can't wait to have you."
The two had made their way, completely naked, through the privacy of the connecting garden between their two cottages. Harry led the hypnotized young girl quickly into the bedroom of his cottage, aroused beyond belief by what he knew was going to happen. Jill would be aroused, too, from the surprise he had in store for her, Harry felt sure. Now, if John Barnett only carried through his part of the plan.
Harry eased Jill onto the bed, lay her gently upon the sheets, and then joined her. They lay together, breathing each other's passionate fragrances, and then he reached down and touched one of her now heavily quivering breasts. She sucked in her breath and shuddered, and mewled excitedly as he stroked the sloping plane and teased the cherry colored nipple to erectness. His other hand moved to the "vee" of her loins, felt the moistness of her secretions, slipped his outstretched middle finger along the damp, pink furrow tentatively . . . and then with increased fervor she moaned and twisted, spreading her thighs with one leg straight out upon the sheets and the other bent upright.
Harry located the distended tip of her tiny quaking clitoris and tantalized it for a moment, then returned to the warmly throbbing cavern of her cunt. He slid his finger inside, letting the wet, muscled walls of her vaginal tunnel close around it and seemingly suck on it as though for nourishment. Against her ear, he whispered:
"Touch me, Jill. Touch my cock. Reach down and feel me as I am feeling you."
She obeyed, as she had obeyed his order to follow him to his bed. Mindlessly, without thought of consequences to herself or others, she was his slave to do with as he willed, and he willed for her to feel his penis. She slid her hand down between their pulsing stomachs, past his hand which was fucking in and out of her begging vaginal slit like a long slender penis, and seized his hardened rod of flesh in her fevered hand. She slid her palm up and down the thick pulsating shaft, played joyously over its ridges, and strummed the smooth, rubbery head with her nails before moving back to grasp the base and caress his soft sac of throbbing testicles.
"Ohhhhh yessssss, Jill, that's it! That's it!" groaned Harry as his own fingers churned faster and faster in her coral sheathed cunt. "That's so good
so good. . . but I'll cum if you keep that up. I'll cum right here right on the sheets, and I want to be inside you for that. I want to fuck you now, Jill
I want you now. .
"Yes," Jill heard herself murmur in response. "Yes, now . . . Fuck me, Harry, fuck me."
Harry removed his fingers from between her wantonly open legs, raised himself up and then told her to do the same. Jill thought that he was going to take her from the rear just as he had the day before, and she quivered with the expectancy of the orgasm it would bring. But then his hypnotic voice was whispering other, more licentious words into her panting brain, and he pressed the hotly pulsating head of his cock against one of her eagerly trembling ass cheeks.
"I'm going to fuck you now, Jill. . . I'm going to fuck deep and hard.
in your anus! I'm going to push my penis up into that beautiful little asshole of yours. . . I've wanted to from the first, and now I will!"
"Harry!" cried Jill. "Please . . . no, not that! I. . . I've never had it there . . . It'll hurt! I know it'll hurt me terribly! Noooooo!" She geared her mind to the fighting of the pain . . . but instead, his first contact with the tiny puckered lips of her anus was one of softness and pleasure, and she was unprepared for it.
Harry had leaned forward and planted a warm wet kiss upon the soft, fearfully contracting opening to her rectum. He felt her quiver in fright and excitement beneath him, and he kissed her teasingly there again, then again. The young housewife moaned slightly as her voluptuously kneeling body trembled from the moist contact, and she involuntarily clenched her buttocks together.
Harry knew from experience that this was the time for patience, that she had passed the first stage of the ultimate conquest and now he must win her mind and spirit over, and it had to be done by the softness of touch. He dropped back and placed his thumbs on either side of her warmly soft buttock cheeks and pressed out gently. Bit by bit, the straining muscles of her tautened inner thighs relaxed, and as he watched they slowly parted before the almost imperceptible outward pressure of his thumbs. His eyes were at the same level as the rich red folds of flesh which covered her vagina, and he could see a slight moisture forming and glistening on the softly curling pubic hair, framing the pink mouth of her cunt. The odor was one of sweetness and it drifted enticingly out to flare his nostrils. A moment later, he swallowed deeply, for his thumbs had opened enough of her wetly pulsating vaginal lips to see the complete panorama of pink inner flesh, all smooth and pearlescent.
He breathed hard and blew softly upon her tightly puckering anus, and he heard another mewl escape from the submissively kneeling young blonde's now open lips. She tried to move slightly, but his hands on her fleshy buttocks held her fast. Gradually, the rest of her muscles relaxed completely. He touched her now slightly throbbing anus with his tongue and began making gentle little licking movements against the tight anal ring.
Jill couldn't understand this feathery feeling upon her backsides. It was wet and warm, and she shivered from its magical workings. "AAAHHHHHHIH," she sighed, and she stopped all further resistance. She allowed her nakedly exposed buttocks to be pulled wide open by the gentle being who was making delicious circles of softness back there, and she felt as if floating on a fleece-covered cloud.
Again Harry thrust forward the curling tip of his tongue and buried it in the warm fleshy folds between her eagerly upraised buttocks. She squirmed, and then, unable to stem the obscene craving he felt, Harry pushed his lips closer and began to lewdly suck and lick the whole of her softly yielding anal crevice. Her suddenly quivering buttocks jerked forward on the first contact, but then in an abrupt surrender, churned the soft fleshy globes backwards upon his face, crazily swaying as she gasped with electrified shock. Harry slaved at her tightly clenching little rectal mouth, his long tongue wetly plunging and withdrawing, making lewd sluicing sounds with each wicked thrust into her backside. He pushed his face yet further into her warm fleshed crevice, gleefully teasing her with his teeth and lips and tongue.
"Ohhhhhh! Ooooohhhh!" Jill chanted, her body and mind in a abandoned dance of forbidden desire from the obscene sucking between her wide stretched buttocks. With a triumphant glow on his face, Harry looked up from her, knowing that he had now teased her into a greedy and untamed female animal of lust who threatened to drive him insane. His great, thick cock ached with anticipation, and then he slithered to his knees and worked his naked hips into the now saliva drenched anal crevice.
"Spread your knees out wider, baby," he commanded harshly. His blunt cock head was now pressing against the tightly constricted anus, and even though she could feel it there and was frightened, Jill did as she was told to do, and she strained her buttocks back, as suddenly, helplessly, she began to revel in her lewd subjugation. She felt the cords of his muscular thighs as they shoved against her . . . and then the elastic ring around her tightly resisting anus gave way to his unrelenting pressure.
"AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHIH!" she screamed, her face contorted from agony and pain. "Oh God! Oh God!" she wailed, trying to twist her nakedly squirming buttocks loose from his assault of her defenseless, virginal rectum.
Harry moaned as he locked his gaze upon the lewdly exciting sight of his lust-hardened rod as it stuck pole-like between the helpless young wife's softly quivering buttock crevice. The advertising executive, sweating now, jerked and shoved another inch into her tightly puckered rectal passage, and the nakedly kneeling blonde screamed again. Her anal ring was puckered like a small, tightly clenched fist around his rigidly thickened cock, and he grunted and wormed another half inch in her hotly clasping anus, the tightest fuck he'd ever had.
"AAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!
Jill cried with each wrench of his loins. "It hurts! It hurts so much! Stopppppp!"
"No, no, it's good, Jill," groaned Harry. "Relax and fuck back against my cock. The pain will go away in seconds, and it will feel wonderful to you..."
Numbly, and in total submission, Jill ground her painfully stretched buttocks back in a slow, excruciating circular motion, skewering further inches of his big thick cock deeper up into her bowels. Oh God . . . It still hurt, it still felt as though she were being ripped up the middle back there. Then, miraculously, she could feel the hair of his groin against her buttocks. He was all the way in her!
Jill whimpered as his pelvis smacked viciously against her upturned ass cheeks. He sank his long thickened hardness to the depths of her tortured young belly, his sperm-laden balls swinging hard against her pubic hair and hotly throbbing vagina. The beautiful young blonde kneeled slave-like, completely lost of body control, and slowly. . . ever so slowly.
the pain began to ease. Harry flexed, and she made a choking sound as her soft resilient anal flesh clamped down hotly around his thick rampaging cock, but it didn't hurt as much now . . . or as much as before when he began to triumphantly pump back and forth in and out of her tight little anus.
She began to like it even as her anal passage became accustomed to the thick foreign presence embedded so deeply in it. Gradually, her sensual young body started to respond. Yes, yes, there was no denying it, she was warming to this lewd, bestial sodomizing of her most secret part. Her head rolled from side to side, and she buffetted back against Harry's long pistoning shaft, churning her lovely cream-white buttocks in a wild, abandoned dance of lust.
"Oooooohhhhhh!" Jill cried in lewd hunger as Harry hammered his long hard cock deep up into her tightly heated rectum. Beautiful pain! she thought wildly. Beautiful sweet love-pain in my asshole, in my vagina, in my belly. . . beautiful, beautiful cock to give me such wondrous feelings throughout my body...
Harry's muscular pelvis smacked loudly against her softly quivering ass moons, his balls swinging hard against the gaping wet entrance of her vagina. Jill screwed her fleshy young buttocks back tighter against his rampaging hardness, reveling in the perverted sodomizing of her defensively puckering anus. Uncontrollable spasms of obscene delight surged like maelstroms of heat through every fiber and nerve end with each buffeting thrust of his thundering pole of hard flesh, and she twisted her head around to stare at him, to see his teeth bared in beast like rapture the same as hers were, to see him watching with lustful fascination the sight of his cock's wild thrustings into the naked anal opening of her sensuously rotating buttocks.
Jill worked voraciously to help further impale herself, raising and lowering her hips almost to the tip of his thick ramming cock, then hurling back down to drive it deep within her burning rectal channel. She rested her forehead upon the bed, her blonde hair fanned out damply, and then reached back between her legs with her left hand and caressed the sac of sperm-bloated balls which pounded her defenseless vagina, running a fingernail over the sensitive underside of his wetly heated cock as he lunged in and out of her rectum.
Neither of the two noticed the sound of the front door opening, so intent were they in reaching their mutual orgasm. Neither were aware when John Barnett quietly entered the bedroom, as he had planned with Harry, to see for himself whether the lovely Jill Parker was qualified to join the Jamieson Advertising executive swap club.
John's eyes were bright, and his churning young balls throbbed with an aching intensity as he watched. Goddamn, he couldn't wait any longer to join in. . . he was going to pop his nuts in his drawers if he did! He stared at the sweat-sheened lips of the shamelessly kneeling blonde girl, imagining the wet feel of them around his painfully throbbing cock, and his lust-thickened hardness surged with desire at the wanton image. Quickly, he undressed, and stood completely naked, his long paleskinned penis standing immobile from his thin, light-colored pubic hair which partially shielded his balls hanging heavy below. He began to stroke the rigid shaft of flesh lightly as he watched, drawing the foreskin back and forth slowly with mounting lust, and then when the point of endurance was near, he strode hurriedly, confidently toward the bed.
Jill was buffeting back against Harry's thick hammering staff crazily now, endeavoring to milk his sperm-filled balls of his burning load of cum far into the depths of her bowels. She worked diligently, concentrating, but the sudden overwhelming feeling of the presence of another person in the room was too strong for her passion-fogged mind to overlook. Her eyes fluttered open, and then grew wide with dismay and fright at the sight of the good looking, lewdly-grinning naked man who stood facing her .
stood facing her not twelve inches away and obscenely stroking his erectly palpitating penis!
"My God!" she cried, ceasing her thrusting motions back against Harry's pile-driving cock. "Who. . . who are you?"
"John Barnett's the name," he said easily, continuing to maneuver his visibly throbbing cock with his hand. "I'm a business associate of your husband's. I work for Jamieson, too."
"What are you doing here?" she almost screamed.
"Why, getting ready to join in, that's all." He grinned as if he was enjoying a secret joke. "Hello, Harry. I'm here, right on schedule."
"Fuck you, you bastard!" Harry said good-naturedly, but with a hint of impatience. He squeezed Jill's soft, supple ass cheeks, and wiggled his lust hardened cock far inside the velvet heat of her anus, causing her to
moan involuntarily. "You took your sweet time; I'm damned near ready to shoot my wad, for Christ's sake!"
John shrugged. "I'm in no hurry, but since you insist." He stepped closer to Jill's wild-eyed, confused, sweating face . . . bringing his long angry cock to less than six inches from her moistened, red lipped mouth. "What do you think, Jill?" he asked her "Do you like my big cock?"
She didn't know what to think. Disordered thoughts spun and whirled inside her brain. Who was this man? Why was he here? What was he going to do? Had Harry planned this? Oh God, had he brought this man up here by some mutual plan, to. . . to.
"Well, you'd better like it, baby," John continued. "Because you're going to be sucking it like a lollipop in a minute!"
Jill's mind rebelled from the perverted suggestion, and she tried to pull away, pull her naked buttocks free of Harry's great impaling cock embedded so deeply in her rectum. But he held her firm, his strong hands imprisoning her, forcing her to remain still. She heard him say softly, "It's all right, Jill. Don't be afraid. Just relax, and enjoy it. You'll like a 3-way stretch once you get use to it. Trust me, Jill; you'll see. I haven't led you wrong yet. . . trust me.
No, no, no! She wouldn't like it . . . she wouldn't! It was foul and sick and disgusting to suck a man's penis . . . Or was it? Was it really? She'd thought that having intercourse with another man was foul and disgusting . . . and it wasn't; she'd thought having a man inside her anus was foul and disgusting . . . and it wasn't. She had thought it foul and disgusting for a man's mouth to be put on her genitals. . . but it wasn't! Oh God! Could it be that the taste of a man's penis in her mouth would be as good, as pleasure giving and satisfying and exciting, as all those other acts?
She stared at the quivering, now-swollen glans of John Barnett's excitedly hardened cock, glistening wetly from its thin sheen of lubrication, the unseeing eye staring back at her like some hypnotic symbolic orb. Fascination began to grow in her, began to replace the fear now, and confusion and the uncertainty. The satin-skinned cock, held firmly in John's stroking fingers, seemed to beckon to her, seemed to command her to come nearer, seemed to will her to engulf it within the warm wet cavern of her vaginal mouth.
And in that moment, all of Jill's inhibitions vanished in the advent of lust renewed, renewed yet brighter than ever before. She opened her mouth wide, her tongue wetly licking around her moistly parted lips, her eyes shifting up to meet John's in tacit submittal to his pleasures. He grinned wider, breathing hard, and moved a step closer, so that the moist head of his cock was only a scant inch from Jill's lips. She stretched her tongue timidly out between her lips, let it touch the throbbing tip, then quickly withdrew it. John shuddered in unconcealed delight. "Don't play around, Goddamn it! Suck me! Suck me right now, baby!" he groaned.
Jill obediently opened her mouth wide, the long wetness of her tongue stretched out like a welcoming red carpet for his entering cock. John stepped quickly forward, guiding his eagerly pulsing penis between her parted lips and along that soft, moist carpet until she gasped and choked as the fleshy cockhead struck the back of her throat. His blonde pubic hairs were tickling her chin and the tip of her nose as he commanded, "Now suck me! Suck me good!"
Jill pulled back slightly to keep from gagging, and then she was running her tongue around the glans opening . . . experimentally at first, unsure of herself, and then with rapidly increasing tempo. It tasted bittersweet, pungent, exciting; she could feel every throbbing muscle and vein in it with her lips, her tongue, her teeth. . . Oh yes, it was good, good! She'd been right, a man's penis inside her mouth was excitingly wonderful, and his impatient cum already seeping in small excited droplets was like nectar mingling with her saliva. She could hardly wait for him to really cum, cum all the way and fill her mouth with his hot, wonderful seed.
Faster and faster her tongue and her mouth worked on this stranger's swollen instrument, and she held the base of his cock in her hand now, having replaced John's hand with her own. He wrapped his fingers in her long blonde tresses, moaning abandonly at the enticing softness of her mouth and tongue on his fiery cock. . . softness like flowing, melted butter consuming it.
"Aaaaaahhhhhh! he moaned. "Oh Christ, that's nice, that is S00000 nice the way you suck me!"
And behind her, as the subserviently kneeling young woman began to slave her mouth around his employee's lust thickened cock, Harry leered knowingly to himself and began to thrust his hardened penis deep into Jill's still tightly clasping rectum once again . . . slowly at first and then with increasing rhythm until her hips were wildly churning back against his pile-driving loins as they had before. He timed his strokes into her anus to the eager thrusts forward of John's hips as he fucked her softly ovalled mouth, so they were both plunging into Jill's bodily orifices in unison and withdrawing in unison. The room was filled with the sounds of love, of carnal pleasure being sought and attained . . . slapping and slurping and moaning and panting.
Jill was mindless and soulless now, reveling in the two pulsating hot cocks buried inside her, for nothing else mattered to her; she was, indeed, a new and free and kindred spirit. In this new world in which she dwelled, with this new motivating force of hedonistic pleasure seeking, she knew peace and tranquility and independence and great happiness. She knew sex, and sex was all-important in her new world, vitally and irrevocably important above all else . .
Jill's head pumped abandonly to and fro, slavishly licking every inch of John Barnett's thick shaft, sucking harder and harder, her tongue twirling faster and faster. She could feel the dripping shaft batter against
her larynx, but now she made no move to cease the intense ramming pressure there, her lips ovaling maddeningly as she attempted to suck the hot swirling white load of his sperm up from his balls.
At the same time she rolled and flung her gleaming white buttocks back against Harry's forward-driving cock, feeling it deep, deep, ever deeper in her belly as her warm mouth worked harder and faster on John's penis. The younger man groaned as her tightly ovalled lips almost drove him insane with pleasure. A wailing gasp tore from his throat as the moment of his climax drew closer, and Jill, too, was groaning and wailing and silently begging to the two magnificently attuned cocks to flood her, consume her, drown her with their geysering explosions of semen. Her lips sucked and nibbled more wildly around John's wildly jerking cock, and her perspiration streaked buttocks heaved in an insane, frothing tempo back against Harry's ramming loins, as her own orgasm began inexorably building and building and building. It wouldn't be long now, she knew, it wouldn't be long before all of them came in one total and mind-blowing release of their mutual passions.
Suddenly, John emitted a loud, grunting wail of liberation and he jammed his hips forward, burying his ejaculating rod of hot flesh deep in Jill's soft warm mouth. Her throat tightened and untightened as torrent after gushing. torrent of his searing fluid poured forth from his madly pulsing cock, and she swallowed desperately to keep from strangling on the billowing sperm, her cheeks bloating and hollowing as the warm grotto of her mouth filled and emptied again and again.
And then, behind her, Harry's fingers dug painfully into the soft moons of her frantically trembling buttocks, the nails drawing blood, and he began to chant crazily. "I'm cumming . . . I'm cumming .
aaaagggghhhhhh . . . And his lust-thickened cock began to jerk out of control in her rectum then, as Barnett's was doing in her mouth, and she felt the fire-hot semen erupt along his urethra tube from the boiling cauldrons of his balls to fill her rectal cavity to overflowing. The thickly heated liquid ran down along the crevice of her churning buttocks, along the backs of her pumping thighs, and puddled on the bedspread beneath her quivering young body.
"Keep sucking, keep sucking, don't stopppppp!" John moaned convulsively levering forward and trying to shove his spewing penis even further down her willing throat. "Suck my cum., suck all of my cummmmmm! Harry wailed behind her.
Then, as if their mutual cries of enrapturement were the final trigger of her own cumming, Jill felt the beginnings of that wild, soaring, drifting ride take hold of her wantonly excited flesh. She gurgled and squealed around John's still ejaculating cock, never once losing a single droplet of the molten fluid. She climbed and rode the crest of her orgasm to the impossible height which she had come to know so well in the past two days, that fabulously delirious height which was the only thing worth
seeking in the whole, wide universe. On she came, thrashing, climbing, her whole being wracked by the unbearable ecstasy of her passion, the two beautifully hard cocks skewering into her, taking her higher and higher to the pinnacle of hedonistic pleasure.
And then, finally, she collapsed forward on the bed, the two bliss-giving penises slipping from her cum-filled mouth and her forever stretched rectum with loud, wet simultaneous sounds of love. In her stomach and breasts, there was a pleasant burning sensation, and she thought in her gentle return to earth that it was the blending of all three cums, all the juices having flowed there from whence they were pumped into her and from her own secreting glands.
She felt her head being lifted and placed on a warm, hairy thigh, and Harry's soft voice said, "Rest now, baby. After you have, we'll all fuck again, and I promise you it will be as good as it was just now. I'll fuck your mouth, and John here can have your asshole. . . or your cunt, if you'd like it better that way. . . how does that strike you, John?"
"Fine. Just fine," Barnett grinned lewdly, turning to Jill. "You're everything Harry said you were, baby, and more. You're going to be a welcome addition to our little group."
Our little group? What does he mean? Jill wondered drowsily, her brain still drugged by the banked fires of her lust. But she didn't dwell on John Barnett's words. Instead, she drifted off into a semi-dream world of satiation, at peace with herself and with her role as a complete sexual being.
She could hardly wait for the three of them to join together again, to feel their two giant cocks taking her once more on that wonderful journey into carnal bliss, as they had promised to do . . . and she knew they would do...
And as they subsequently did.
Chapter Seven
Tom Parker was awakened from his light sleep by a knock at the front door to the cottage. Turning over on his side, he looked as though he were surprised to find Gay Sommers nakedly lying by his side, as beautiful as always in the aftermath of their spent passion. That morning had been exhausting; Gay had excited him again and again, far more than he would have ever thought possible, and had again and again satisfied him in ways he had never suspected existed.
The knock on the door came again, and Tom got up and quickly slung his bathrobe around his shoulders. He crossed to the front door, and then paused briefly.
"Yes. Who is it?"
"Who do you think?" laughed Harry Sommer's voice from the other side of the door.
Tom opened the door to find Harry and his wife standing outside, arm in arm, Harry clothed in his own bathrobe, and Jill covered with one of Harry's wife's. The two stepped into the room, and Jill crossed into her husband's arms.
"Are you all right?" Tom asked her, with some concern in his voice.
"Of course, darling," Jill smiled up at him, and then she kissed him with infinite tenderness.
"Sure she's all right," Harry laughed, "What did you expect? And how are you and Gay?"
fine," Tom answered somewhat self-consciously.
Harry crossed to the door of the Parker's bedroom, and looked in to Gay sitting up in bed. She smiled broadly at him, and waved comically.
"Well, everything seems to have worked out all right, wouldn't you say so, Tom?" Harry grinned.
"Yes . . . yes I guess it has," Tom answered, looking at Jill, and smiling with a meaning both of them understood clearly.
"Well, that's great!" Harry cooed, and then turned to his wife. "Come on, Gay, let's leave these two love birds to themselves."
"Coming, dear," Gay answered, appearing at the bedroom door. "Why don't you give me the bathrobe you're wearing, Jill, so I can make it back to our place in comparative decency?"
"Oh, of course," Jill said, and disappeared into the bedroom, appearing shortly dressed in her own bathrobe, and holding out Gay's to her.
"Say, listen, you two," Harry said. "There's a party over at our place tonight for the whole group of us from Jamieson . . . you know, the Barnetts, the Wellingtons, the Prescotts. . . I hope you'll be rested enough to be there."
Tom looked at Jill, and she nodded. "Sure, we'll be there," he smiled. "But Harry . . . I mean I don't want to imply that I'm not having a good time, or anything, but. . . well, I thought Jamieson was meeting down here to get some work done. When do we get on with the business?"
"The business?" Harry queried, grinning over at his wife.
"Yeah . . .1 mean, the week's almost half gone, and we haven't met together, or.
"Wouldn't you say the four of us have met together, in a certain sense, Tom?" Gay laughed. Tom blushed, and looked a little confused. "I didn't mean that kind of business," he managed.
"Oh, but Tom," Harry grinned, "that's the only kind of business".
Tom, more confused than ever, looked down at Jill, but she seemed just as lost as he.
"I don't understand. I mean, you've got the four top executives from Jamieson here, and. .
and what do you think they have been doing while we've been together; Tom?" Gay Sommers smiled.
Tom hesitated, the truth beginning to work its way like a breaking dawn into his brain.
"You mean.
"Exactly, Tom my boy," Harry laughed. "I'm surprised you haven't caught on sooner. The Barnetts, and the Wellingtons, and the Prescotts, have all been amusing themselves in much the same way the four of us have for the past couple of days. That, I'm afraid, is the business of this conference."
Tom was dumb struck. He couldn't believe it! All the time he had been so preoccupied with the tumultuous events in his marriage, and he hadn't even thought about the others. Of course! They must all be in on it! Suddenly, Jill began to giggle, quietly at first, and then louder, and Tom had to join her. They looked at each other, and laughed out loud, laughed for their naivet', their susceptibility, their relief
"Tom," Jill coughed, almost choking on her words, "We're members of a. . . a. . . a swap club!" And both of them howled from the incongruity of the situation, while Gay and Harry Sommers stood by perplexed, taking their turn at being confused.
"I don't get it," Harry said. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing . . . nothing . . ." Tom managed to gasp through his laughter. "Only everything, that's all . . ."He made his way to the sofa, and collapsed nakedly down on it, his face beet red.
"Well, I think you two are crazy," Gay giggled, "Completely nuts! Come on, Harry, let's get out of this place before these two loonies give us whatever they've got." And she took her husband's arm and began to steer him toward the door, more and more infected herself with the contagious laughter of the Parker's.
"No . . . no . . . it's all . . ." Jill managed to say, trying not to look at her husband.
"We'll see you at the party tonight, Tom?" Harry mumbled, as he disappeared out the door.
"See you two tonight, then," Gay said as she left. "And come prepared for anything. This is a wild group we've got here." And smiling, she closed the door behind her.
For a while Jill and Tom laughed. on, unable to avoid the completely amusing, and yet painful realization of what had actually happened in the past few days. To come from the depths of a dissolving sterile marriage, from the frustration and torment of a disastrous sexual relationship, to the ultimate membership in some kind of swap club, and all that in the space of only two short days . . . it was too much to comprehend! Finally, the two of them calmed down somewhat, and Jill came to join her husband on the sofa.
"Well, darling," she said, exhausted. "What do you think?"
"About what?" Tom answered, breathing heavily.
"About this whole thing. . . everything that's happened."
Tom paused a minute, gazing into his wife's eyes, and then he drew her to him across the sofa, kissed her fervently on the lips, and settled her down in the crook of his arm.
"I think, Jill . . . I think that no matter how strange this all seems .
How unreal and dreamlike . . . I think that it's wonderful. Maybe only this crazy an occurrence could have brought us back together."
"Ummmmm. . . I think so too, dear."
"But what about tonight? Are you game to go one more round?" Jill paused, and then giggled again.
"I'm so tired."
Tom laughed, and pulled his beautiful young wife even closer to him.
`We don't have to go if you don't want to," he said.
"Do you want to go?"
"Yes, I think so. That is, if I can get some rest this afternoon."
"All right. . . I want to go too."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely."
And Jill threw her arms around her husband, and kissed him passionately on the lips. Yes, she wanted to go! She wanted to give the new Jill Parker free rein to grow and mature . . . this new being that gave her such an overwhelming sense of freedom, of worth, and of happiness. She knew it would be difficult, because the old Jill would always be present, watching and condemning. But she also knew that that old being must be vanquished, and could be vanquished.
These past two days had been the finest of her life, for not only had she learned the secrets and the wonders of her own flesh, but the marriage which had been so shaky upon their arrival was now firmly cemented on a rock-solid foundation. She had realized what the cause of their problem was . . . truly realized it, because Tom had known all along and had told her all along. She had been unresponsive, frigid, refusing to understand the basic needs of her husband and how the unfulfillment of these needs could lead to frustration, anger, even a kind of hatred destroying the marriage completely.
But she understood those basic emotions now, because they were her emotions as well. She needed fulfillment as much as Tom did . . . perhaps, since she was still a neophyte, even more than he . . . and with her understanding of that came her understanding of many other things as well. She and Tom could now talk together, about the past and the present and the future, about life and love and sex; they were able to communicate, something they hadn't been able to really do all along, on a mental level as well as on a physical one. Tom's love for her was rekindled, grew into a raging fire . . . and her love for him was stronger, more inspired, than it had ever been.
Jill turned her face up to her husband's, and found Tom already dozing off She shook him gently, and then whispered to him gently.
"Come on, darling, let's go to bed. We've got to get some rest before tonight."
"Uhhhhh?" Tom grunted. "Oh yeah, to bed." He got up, taking Jill by the hand, and began to make his way toward the bedroom. "Are we going to take a little nap?"
Jill smiled, and squeezed her husband's hand tightly.
"That depends on you, darling."
*
*
*
The party began at 8:30. Jill and Tom had wakened at about 7:00, dressed, and made their way through the back garden to the Sommer's cottage. By 8:30, the entire group had assembled, and Jill looked around with some embarrassment at the other executives of Jamieson Advertising, and their wives. It struck her as odd, somehow, that they all looked completely normal that there was nothing to distinguish them as participants in this illicit and exciting society of group sex.
Of course, Jill had seen John Barnett before, at very close quarters. John's wife was named Laura, and she was a stunning beauty; tall, redheaded with huge, high breasts and slightly pouting lips. Jill wondered why John would ever have any need for other women, Laura Barnett was so incredibly attractive.
Besides themselves, the Sommers, and the Barnetts, there were two other couples present. Will Prescott, the first vice-president of Jamieson, was a tall, suave, sophisticated man in his late thirties, with the unmistakable expression of a man of the world. He was dressed expensively, as was his wife, Edie. Edie Prescott was blonde and slender, with tautly rounded breasts and a wide, full lipped mouth. Her hair flowed down onto her shoulders like spun gold, and her laugh had a musical quality that was contagious.
George Wellington was another account executive, but older than Tom. He had flashing green eyes that testified to his sharp wit and quick intellect. He was heavy set, with thick black hair, and he moved about sensuously like a cat about to pounce on his prey. His wife, Beth, was small and symmetrically proportioned, with beautifully rounded hips and pert, eye-catching breasts; her eyes were huge and mischievous, and her lips with a sensuous pink in the tanned hue of her face.
Jill liked both couples on sight, and as the evening progressed, her opinion of them grew by leaps and bounds. They were carefree and full of life, and knew how to have fun. She laughed a lot, as they did and as the others did . . . and she consumed a great deal of liquor. After awhile, the softly lit room seemed to whirl pleasantly, as if with a motion of its own;
she knew she was high, but the euphoric feeling was all too perfect to sober from. She kept right on drinking with the others.
There was a sudden shout from one end of the room, and Jill turned to locate the source of the yell. It had come from Harry Sommers, who was grinning and standing next to his wife Gay, his arm about her shoulders. "Can I have your attention, everybody?" she said. "All of you come over here and gather round. I've got a little surprise brewing for Tom and Jill Parker, the new members of our little group."
"You going to show them how it's done, Harry?" John Barnett shouted, and everyone in the room laughed.
"No, John old buddy," Harry shouted. "You are!"
Everyone turned laughingly to John, who was not in the least daunted.
"That's all right with me, Harry!" he yelled. "You just pick the lucky lady."
"Let's all get undressed first," suggested Beth Wellington, who by this time was quite tipsy. "You can't judge a book by its cover, you know."
Again everyone laughed, but was quiet as Jill spoke up.
"I'm sorry," she said apologetically, "But I don't understand what's going on."
Harry came over to her, and put his arm gently around her shoulder.
"It's nothing, Jill. This is just a little game we play with all of our new members. You might call it a kind of initiation rite." Everyone standing around laughed appreciatively.
Jill felt her heart pounding with trip hammer speed in her chest, and her wetly throbbing cunt was tingling with the beginning flow of her lubricating fluid. She knew that this game, whatever it was, could only lead to an evening of. . . what? She hadn't allowed her mind to really consider the potentialities inherent in a party like this, a party of swingers of the magnitude of Harry and Gay Sommers, for the simple reason that she might not have come if she had. There was still inside her vestiges of her old self, paled considerably by the emergence of the new Jill Parker, but nevertheless still alive and with a strong voice which only passion seemed to muffle. And so, knowing this, Jill had both unwittingly, and by a conscious effort put such considerations far back in her mind, refusing to dwell on them at all.
Now, however, the voice of her old self was growing loud and shrill in her brain, demanding to know what kind of lewd, carnal debaucheries she was allowing herself to be a part of, what new perverse activities the evening held in store for her. And yet, with the advent of that voice, there also came growing arousal . . . perhaps the weapon of the new Jill Parker
in order to combat and destroy what remained of the old. Her nipples hardened beneath her blouse (she did not have a bra on), and her warmly tingling cunt continued to flower with the juices of her passion. She caught her breath sharply, standing rigid and waiting for some further explanation.
"It's very simple, Jill," Harry continued. "It's a way to . . . well, to get everybody warmed up, so to speak."
"You don't have to get me warmed up," laughed Will Prescott. "I'm hotter'n a pistol right now.
"What we'll do," Harry continued, laughing, "is to all strip down, completely naked, and watch two of the older, wiser, and more .
experienced members of our little group perform for us."
Perform? The word chilled Jill to the very marrow. Did she have to watch two other people making love? Was this a part of it? Horrifying visions of her husband hunched between the spread legs of Gay Sommers came back to haunt her, and Jill trembled.
"Well, my friends, what do you say?" Harry stood patiently with a questioning look on his face.
Jill looked up at Tom, and found that he was nodding yes to her. She hesitated, and then, suddenly, it didn't matter anymore.
Why couldn't she? She was free now, wasn't she? She'd done most everything else, why should she draw the line now? And yes, she was becoming more and more aroused. . . her cunt was becoming more heated and her nipples were hard and she wanted and needed desperately to be fulfilled. The thought of it was exciting, why deny it? It was tremendously.
God, almost overwhelmingly exciting! The more she thought about it, the more thrilling it became
Jill looked up at Tom, and there passed between them a mute look of love and of conviction to go all the way, now that they had committed themselves. Both knew that the other was excited, and eager, and both respected that and wanted fulfillment and happiness for the other, knowing that they would be together afterward.
"Yes," Jill said slowly. "Yes, all right."
"Then we won't waste any more time," Harry said, and then turned laughingly to the rest of the group. "What's the matter? Everybody's still dressed!"
The next few seconds were ones of intense confusion, as almost every possible kind of masculine and feminine garment were hurled every which way. There were gleeful shouts and giggles and panting breaths, and Jill found herself tugging and pulling at her blouse and dress with fumbling eagerness. Tom was equally fumbling, but soon they stood completely naked, along with all the others.
"Well," John Barnett called to Harry, "Who's my lucky partner?"
"I am!"
It was Beth Wellington's voice. There were laughter and shouts, and a red-necked grin from John. His long throbbing cock was already hard as he stepped into the middle of the room to meet Beth. Her small, high proud breasts, with tiny ruby-red nipples almost as rigid as his cock, swayed ever so slightly as she moved unashamedly forward. They stood facing one another, grinning and Jill saw that the pale natural blondeness of the
woman's pubic hair was already glistening with the moisture of her arousal. Jill was breathing harshly by then, her mind awhirl with mounting and seething passion that rendered all else insignificant in her brain. Once more, the arousal of her burning desires effectively fended off the old Jill, bringing into even stronger prominence her free-spirited new being. She stole a glance around the circle, seeing that all of the men had powerful erections, including Tom, whose penis seemed to shudder with inner heat. Then her gaze, like the gazes of the others, fastened on the couple in the center of the circle.
"Well, Beth baby, it looks like you and me, doesn't it?" Barnett said.
Beth ran her hands sensuously up and down her smooth, pale-ivory, almost translucent flesh. She moistened her lips provocatively. "So it does, John," she said. "How do you want to do it? Your wish is my command.
"I'll lie on my back. You get on top."
"Whatever you say."
The others watched with passion-glazed eyes as the blond man lay prone on the floor with his cock standing straight up like some quivering battle standard. Beth Wellington moved to straddle him, her thighs clenching his waist, her petal like flowered cunt poised above his thick erection as she reached down to hold it steady. To Jill's eyes, the two blond people on the floor looked like perfect specimens of the Aryan race about to partake of a great pagan religious ceremony in some exquisite temple.
"Now, honey, now!" George Wellington suddenly shouted from the ring of faces. "Shove your cunt down on his cock right now!"
And Beth obeyed her husband's command, levering herself down hard to drive Barnett's long hard penis far up into her soft, warm vagina. She emitted a low wail of pleasure-pain, her face contorting with lust and little beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead. Barnett reached up to grasp her waist, raising her up so that just the head of his thick shaft of hot flesh was embedded in the stretched pink lips of her hair-fringed cunt .
then drove her down harshly as he flexed his buttocks off the rug in an upward thrust. Beth moaned again, her eyes squeezed tightly shut now and her mouth open in a mindless desire. Then, using her knees as leverage, she began to slide up and down John's wetly glistening penis with slow, expert strokes.
"That's it, Beth, that's it!" Will Prescott shouted with passion-crazed excitement, taking the hand of his wife, Edie, and placing it around his long, thick, blue-veined cock. "Ride that pecker, girl!"
"Ooooo, I wish that was me out there," Gay Sommers whispered heatedly.
"It will be, soon enough," Tom said, his voice hoarse with lust as he felt the intense lewd excitement which filled the room at that moment.
Edie Prescott released her husband's thick cock after giving it a wifely squeeze, and stepped over to Tom. She looked at him briefly, her
big sensuous breasts with their dark aureoles and rigid nipples were taut on her chest, then her eyes returned to the wildly undulating couple on the floor. But her hand dipped down, cupping the new male member's sperm-filled balls in her small palm and rubbing them gently. His arm went around her and found one firm breast and squeezed it possessively, his forefinger and thumb tweaking the nipple.
The other naked forms in the wife swap club were slipping down onto the floor now, never losing sight of Beth and John performing so lewdly before them. They were pairing off as they did so. Edie was with Tom, and Will Prescott went to where Gay Sommers was kneeling on the rug and began to rub his already palpitating cock along her right cheek and around across her wetly parted lips. Her mouth opened and her tongue came out reflexively to lick the hardened rod while her veiled eyes watched Beth and John. George Wellington gathered Laura Barnett into his arms, his outstretched right middle finger dipping between her slender, alabaster legs and entering the wet warmth of her vaginal tunnel while one of her long, tapered fingers curled around his body and found his anus. She toyed with it for a moment, then the nail flicked inside the tiny, puckered nether ring . . . then her finger to the first joint, then all the way to her palm as Wellington cried out at the same time in pain and rapture.
Harry Sommers crossed the floor to where Jill had sunk onto her right hip with her legs splayed out to the side, watching the whole carnal sight unfolding before her with mesmeric fascination. Harry held his slowly rising penis in his right hand, stroking it lightly as he sat down beside the beautiful young blonde. With his other hand, he found her succulent left breast and caressed it easily, familiarly, tweaking the nipple. Jill leaned against his hard-muscled body gratefully, the contact of his hand on her nakedly sensitive breast making her shudder, her throbbing wet vagina afire with seething, churning desire. God, she had never dreamed anything could be like this! She had never dreamed people were this base, this physical, to seek pleasure in such orgasmic manner . . . that an actual orgy such as this really could take place in modern society. But was it bad? Was it evil or wrong? No, no, not if it made you feel this way, if it kindled your emotional fires so white-hot that you thought you would go mad from the intensity and from the need for release!
She felt Harry's warmly moistened lips on her breast now, licking and suckling the nipple, then trailing down over her belly, pausing to flick into the creamy indentation of her navel before moving to her down-soft pubic triangle. She lay out full-length on her back, her legs opening in a lewd invitation; she knew that Harry was about to kiss her hungering cunt, and trembling violently with the expectancy of it, her head turned so that her eyes saw once again Barnett and Beth Wellington in the middle of the collapsed ring of naked flesh.
Beth rode John's hammering cock thrust far up into her belly as if it was a wild, untamable stallion and she a cowboy who never gave up. She
hurtled herself up and down his great shaft, her naked hips gyrating with fantastic speed, her hands kneading and manipulating her own breasts while his finger dug mercilessly into the soft ivory flesh of her flanks and grinding buttocks. Her long blonde tresses swirled like threads of golden silk around her flailing head, and she made little mewling sounds deep in her throat, totally abandoned now.
Will Prescott had raised Gay Sommers on her knees, facing away from him, and now he guided his trembling penis to the glistening, wetly waiting hole of her vagina, teasing the bloated cockhead inside her tender cuntal lips. Then, almost brutally, he levered forward to drive his lust-hardened shaft far into the belly of Harry's kneeling wife. She cried out in total submission and began buffeting back crazily against Prescott's pumping pelvis. His hands reached under to cup her full, swaying breasts and knead them as if they were the teats of contented dairy cow and he was the milker.
Redheaded Laura Barnett was lying facing the center of the ring, stretched full length on her side and George Wellington was stretched out behind her. One of his hands was caressing her full sensuous breasts the other, middle finger extended, was fucking rhythmically into her moistened little cunt. His great cock was jammed far up into the hot hidden depths of her straining rectum, and his loins worked feverishly as he pistoned into her while they watched his wife and John Barnett fucking less than three feet away...
Edie Prescott straddled Tom in the classic sixty-nine position, her legs splayed wide over his shoulders and her moist lipped, hair-fringed cunt was grinding frantically down over his sheened, eagerly working face and tongue. Her head and mouth were moving slavishly up and down his rigid cock, holding its base in one small, delicate hand as she sucked and licked him with little crooning sounds of delight. She used her other hand to stroke and manipulate his balls, squeezing the heavy scrotum convulsively but yet tenderly, while Tom had his fingers dipped into the darkened crevice of her perfectly formed buttocks to spread them and her naked cuntal slit wide for his insatiably licking tongue .
The pressure of the passion and lust building inside Jill was immense now as she saw, separately and in a montage-like blur, the carnal acts of the flesh which were being performed all around her. The nakedly fucking couples were in a circle around the man and wife in the center and she, Jill, was part of that circle! The heady, musky, overpowering scent of sex assailed her nostrils like an aphrodisiac, and the deliciously enticing moaning and wailing of desire filled her ears in an impossibly sweet symphony.
Yes, she thought mesmerically, I'm going to go mad, so mad, ifI don `t have an orgasm soon to release all these wondrous feelings tearing me apart inside. . . ! Oh God, Harry hurry and kiss my cunt, suck me into orgasm, hurry, hurry, hurrry!
But the experienced Harry Sommers took his time, his kisses circling all around the contracting, love-drenched hole of lust which was the young wife's now insatiable cunt. He trailed his fiery lips and tongue through her sweat-slick pubic hair and over the warm velvety surface of her inner thighs. Her hands wrapped tightly in his hair, trying to guide his head to her waiting furrow, but he resisted with a playful but fleeting nip at the throbbing bud of her blood-red clitoris . . . resisted only momentarily, for she began to cry out like a child in the throes of a terrible nightmare, again and again, and he realized her great need. When he did, he opened his mouth wide, and then ground his lips down hard on her satin-soft cunt petals with his long wet tongue worming far up into her moistly pungent vagina in the ultimate kiss.
"Oooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhh!"
screamed Jill in grateful surrender and excruciating bliss.
"~"
Her nakedly writhing body arched and bucked wildly under his searching tongue and mouth, and she lifted her legs high, locking her ankles back behind his neck and imprisoning his head between her trembling thighs. Her hips moved abandonedly in the motion of copulation, fucking up against his tongue faster and faster, fucking it wildly, her ass cheeks gyrating with impossible fervor. Her hands in his hair tried to push his head and his molten tongue deeper into her screaming cunt, as if attempting to make them one, or to consume them completely.
Harry lashed furiously into her moist trembling slit, his hands slipping up over her belly to her sensuously quivering young breasts, cupping and squeezing them almost brutally while his mouth and tongue continued the wet assault down between her widespread thighs. Then he located the quivering button of her clitoris, and she whined sharply with lust-pain as he took the tiny nerve-tip between his teeth, holding it there, and began to run the end of his tongue round and round it in continuous circles. Her head flailed in total subjugation from side to side, and Harry opened his mouth yet wider, moving his tongue downward along the smooth, heat-moistened slit to the throbbing hair-fringed opening of her vagina once more. And again, he began to orally fuck her, harder and faster, faster and harder, sliding his hard, wet tongue up into her dilated clasping cuntal channel, listening to her frantic mewling, whimpering sounds of passion as he licked around the velvet-like inner walls of her hotly pulsating cunt.
Beth Wellington, in the middle of the lewdly copulating circle, seemed to be a dervish of motion as she fucked her wetly clasping cunt up and down the thick ramming penis of John Barnett below her. She was pinching her nipples painfully now to heighten the implacable desire in her loins, and her head was thrown back like a contortionist's with the muscles of her slim throat stretched taut. On either side of his hammering cock, Barnett was using his fingers to knead her soft wet vaginal flesh as she
rammed her burning pussy down harder on him. From their loud moans and frantic movements, it was obvious that it wouldn't be long for either of them...
The humping form of Will Prescott, fucking gleefully into Gay Sommers from behind seemed likewise a wild dervish of motion. His naked buttocks flashed with demon-like speed as he sent his lust-hardened cock crashing like a crowbar into the voluptuous woman's twisting cunt. He was shouting incoherently as he did so, and Gay buffeted back with practiced expertise and abandoned lust, reaching back to tickle and stroke the heavy sac of his cum-filled balls as they swung below. Over and over she kept repeating in a lust-constricted voice, "Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it Willllllllll!"
George Wellington's outstretched middle finger in the cunt of Laura Barnett, and his cock buried far into the velvet-heated depths of her tightly clasping bowels, seemed perfectly attuned as he fucked his long thickness into her rectum with rhythmic ease. Her eyes were glassy from the tremendous sensations overpowering her, and it was only moments before her climax hit. Every muscle and fiber in her sinuous body was working for that goal, working desperately for it, and her sweat-sheened, bucking form was a quivering mass of jiggling flesh as a result. Wellington's tongue kept flicking spasmodically into her ear, trailing saliva, as he, too, sought his release
The ovalled lips of the sixty-nining Edie Prescott were sending Tom on a roller coaster ride of rapture as she sawed with nibbling, licking grace the fleshy expanse of his lust-swollen cock. He heaved up in mindless captivation, thudding his loins mercilessly into her intense, sweet young face while his own mouth lapped the ambrosial juices of her tenderly, flowing cunt. His balls in her stroking, kneading hand were like two balloons filled to the bursting point, and that ultimate point was only seconds away.
Jill was crooning insensibly with animal pleasure now as Harry Sommers continued to mouth and tongue her sweating, liquid furrow. And then, as her nakedly churning buttocks jerked and spasmed beneath his plunging poker of a tongue, he drew the wet probe out and drew it licking downward to the tiny withered ring of her upturned anus. She sucked in her breath in a gulping, shuddering swallow, flinging her loins up at him as hard as she could as he brought. his tongue into seething wet contact with that forbidden opening, thrusting it into the tight, elastic little hole. Jill's entire body quivered uncontrollably, even more so than it had been beneath the overpowering assault, and her body was paroxysming furiously with torrent after torrent of sensual pleasure.
Harry licked and sucked and drove his tongue into her tightly clenched rectum, reveling in the abandoned gyrations of her lust-controlled body. Harder and harder he drove his wet, hard probe into her anal passage, tasting each pucker in its surface, his teeth scraping the smooth velvety surface of her buttocks and the moist, warm softness of her lusting
slit. Then, abruptly, he drew his tongue out of her rectum and returned his mouth to her saliva-drenched loins and the downy soft hairs fringing her pulsing cuntal lips. He mashed his lips down on them once again, resuming his labor there in tune to Jill's cries of mindless enrapturement .
And then, suddenly, an ear-piercing wail came from the contorted lips of the beautiful Beth Wellington. She seemed to freeze in midair as she knelt above the thick impaling rod of John Barnett, remain immobile with his great cudgel buried far up into her belly for a single instant . . . then she began to flash up and down his wetly glistening cock with disbelieving motions, screaming out: "I'm. . . I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cum.
cum. . . cummmmmmmmiiinnnnnngggggggg!"
"Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, meeeee t000000!" howled Barnett, heaving up to meet her every downstroke as the first hot needle-like spurts of his thick white sperm jetted into her tightly-gripping cunt, to mingle with the enveloping secretions of her orgasm and flow out around his wildly jerking rod. The fluid made pools of glistening wetness on his belly, and on the rug beneath his churning hips, and Beth almost squeezed blood from her own nipples in the mindless throes of her fantastic climax .
It was as if their cumming, displayed there so wantonly in the middle of them all, triggered the spiraling releases of the other madly undulating couples in the sex-hot room. Will Prescott emitted a low, almost mournful howl from behind Gay Sommers and began to ejaculate great streams of his billowing semen into Gay's waiting pussy; she in turn felt his massively exploding shaft ramming dog-fashion into her excited young cunt and then the fires of her own lust reached their apex and began to rage out of control. "Cum, cum, cum, cum," she urged Prescott needlessly, for he was emptying his testicles with incredible and inundating rapidity.
"Eeeeeeeaaaaahhhhhhhh!" Laura Barnett suddenly screamed as she reached, in one blinding instant, the orgasm she had been striving so hard for. Her body bucked and twisted and heaved against George Wellington's invading finger in her wetly convulsing pussy and cock in her wildly puckering rectum, and then his churning testicles were flooding her rectal passage with his burning hot seed and his finger was receiving the warm, sweet flow of her cuntal juices.
It was then that Edie Prescott's hot, soft, artistic little mouth and kneading hands took their toll on Tom Parker, and he moaned crazily as the first geyser of his cum erupted through his cock's glans eye and flooded deep into the back of her throat. "Suck it suckitttt!" he gurgled into her tender cunt, and he used his teeth and his tongue on her erect and throbbing clitoris to make her cum with him as she hungrily milked his balls of his sexual need. Her mouth bloated and contracted, and her Adam's Apple pumped madly to drink down every last drop of his delicious semen.
and then her eyes seemed to roll up in her head as her own climax hit with blinding intensity. Her hips flailed and churned down onto Tom's
contorted face, and they sucked and swallowed the fluids of one another's mutual and satisfying release.
Dimly, through desire-fogged ears, Jill heard the moans and wails and pants which designated the climaxes of the others involved in this fantastic group orgy. She writhed and squirmed beneath the insanely licking tongue of Harry Sommers. Her head continued to flail like a broken puppet's and she ground her naked loins up into his lusting face and tongue as if she wished with every essence to consume it there. The tremendous billows of her gathering orgasm were rising, rising, rising, almost there, almost cresting . . . almost . . . almost .
Harry reached below his questing face then, with his right hand, and found the sweat and saliva slick opening of her anus. He teased it a moment with the nail, then inserted the tip of his middle finger inside the quivering, contracting nether ring. Then, almost brutally, he rammed the entire finger up to his palm into the smooth brown passage, wiggling it around inside as he did so to feel every ridge within the depths of this innocent young wife whom he had so completely in two days subjugated and turned into a wantonly writhing woman who gave just as much as she received. Jill screamed with the sudden pain, the sudden pain that almost at once became intense ecstasy, and then . . . and then she came!
Her legs jackknifed straight up into the air, became as rigid as in rigor mortis, and a thin, almost half-human wail erupted from her throat. Her hands in Harry's hair drew him still deeper into her wetly open loins as her cuntal secretions began to flow from her widespread vagina, inundating Harry's face and tongue with sweetness, flowing down along her tortured rectum with his finger still buried there to pool in fragrant stickiness on the rug beneath their obscenely locked bodies. She screamed again, and again, still cumming, cumming, cumming.
Then at last, her legs lost their rigidity and splayed out wide and fell heavily onto the carpet. Her head rolled to one side with her eyes wide open, and breath spewed raggedly from between her wetly parted lips. Harry lifted himself onto his knees, grinning down at her, the juices of her orgasm making his face and mouth glisten in the room's soft light.
"Well, my dear Jill?" he asked softly. "How did you like that?"
"Oh . . . oh God, Harry . . ." she managed hoarsely. "It . . . it was beautiful. . . " She was still floating and drifting, and her descent from the heights was far from being complete. The impact of her cumming was still strong on her brain.
"And what do you think of your initiation rite?" asked Harry, pleased in spite of his knowledge of his own prowess.
"I . . . I liked it!"
"I thought you would, baby," Harry said. "And this is only the beginning, you know, of the evening's festivities."
Only the beginning, Jill thought drowsily, satiatedly. Only the beginning. Yes, this evening was going to be one of the most significant in
her life, for at its close the old Jill Parker would be dead and gone and long-buried. . . and the new Jill Parker would be forever inviolate.
Only the beginning.
Chapter Eight
Jill lay resting for a long while, luxuriating in the aftermath of her splendid cumming by the mouth of Harry Sommers, cradling his head on her lower belly and thinking how truly wonderful it was to be a free and emancipated woman. The room was silent around her for a time, and then there were stirrings here and there and some of the actors in this orgiastic play began to take new roles.
Jill watched as John Barnett crawled over to where Gay Sommers lay stretched out on her stomach, his glistening cock half-erect with newfound passion. He placed a hand on one of her smoothly curving buttocks and began to caress it tenderly. Gay turned her head, looking sleepily at him, and then smiled and rolled over. Barnett lay down beside her and began to kiss and lick one of her ripe, full breasts, while Gay toyed with his thickening cock to bring it into rigid erection once again.
Smiling as if with some secret inner peace, Jill observed the rekindling of their passions for a moment, then tenderly, she raised Harry's head from her belly and languidly gained her feet. She stood there for a brief time, swaying ever so slightly, looking down at the supine form of the man she loved, her husband Tom. He lay as if sleeping, his head turned to one side and his eyes closed, his right arm around the shoulders of the nakedly sensual Edie Prescott. Edie was curled into a tight little ball, like a contented kitten, her head resting on his hirsute chest and smiling a similar smile to that of Jill's. Tom's cum-glistening cock was cradled in the spent hammock of his testicles, and looked to the young wife as if it were a very fragile, very beautiful sculpture which had to be handled with the utmost of care, even though she pined for the angry hardness of it inside her belly and the intense pleasure it could give.
I love you, my darling Tom, she thought. I love you more than I love life itself and now we'll be together always. When we make love after this party reaches is culmination, it will be for both of us the finest hour of our lives.., but only the first of many, many such finest hours.
Jill touched him gently, tenderly, with her big toe and he opened his eyes and saw her and smiled with the same light of love which was in her eyes. His lips formed the words, "I love you", and then his eyes closed again. Jill, feeling tranquil and fulfilled, moved off toward the bathroom.
When she came out, Will Prescott was standing there with his thick, blue-veined cock at full erection. His features were split in a wide smile, and in his eyes was a smoldering fire.
"Hello, Jill Parker," he said softly, coming toward her across the bedroom carpet to stand inches away, the already lubricated head of his great cock almost but not quite touching the velveteen softness of her belly.
Her eyes lowered to the throbbing head of his cock as if drawn there by some unseen magnetism, and she moistened her lips.
"Hello, Will," she murmured, tightening the muscles of her chest so that her ruby tipped breasts were tautly upthrust on her proud, silken chest. She could feel the first tentative stirrings of a new arousal in her loins, and the tender walls of her cunt began to seep forth new secretions. Her nipples hardened into diamond chips, and she knew she wanted him, wanted Will Prescott and his big stiff penis.
Prescott reached out a careless, gentle hand and stroked one of her ripe young breasts with the tips of his fingers. She shivered. He traced a pattern from one breast to the other with his fingertips, then moved them down over her flat-planed stomach to the still damp triangle of her pubic mound. As he did so, he leaned slightly forward so that the unseeing eye in his cockhead was pressed firmly into the indentation of her navel. Again, she shuddered, more violently this time. Prescott's eyes never left her face; they seemed to glitter with some inner power like the eyes of a hypnotist's.
Jill's cunt had flowered wide with the juices of her renewed passion, and her eyes were locked irrevocably with Prescott's, making her a willing slave to his slightest whim. His outstretched middle finger was moving insinuatingly up and down the warm, wet furrow of her cunt now, slowly, slowly, stoking the fires in the young wife to blazing magnitude once again.
"Would you like to suck me, Jill?" Prescott asked very quietly, his finger moving slowly, his cock still pressed into her navel like a firebrand. "Would you like to take my hard, long cock inside your mouth and suck me and suck me and suck me until I cum?"
A third time Jill shuddered, much more violently now, and her mouth opened and she said, "Yes, Will, yes I'd like to suck you. Oh yes, Will, I would! I want to, Will! I want to suck your cock!"
Prescott smiled casually and put both hands then on her hips, drawing her down onto the soft carpeting at the foot of the bed. "Right here on the floor," he whispered. "Right here where we have plenty of room to stretch out."
Then they were kneeling on the rug, and Prescott leaned forward, still holding her hips in his hands, and kissed her. Her mouth opened and she accepted his tongue eagerly, sucking on it madly in a preview of what it would be like when she took his hotly throbbing cock between her lips. Prescott's breath began to spew jaggedly from his nostrils, and after a
moment he broke the kiss and stretched out on his back with his legs spread wide and his huge throbbing cock standing straight up into the air from his hair-covered loins. Gently, he guided Jill to the kneeling position between his legs, his hands stroking her blonde hair, and she assumed the position he wished her to take. Her moist young mouth was poised above his trembling erection now, and her glazed eyes stared at the hardened shaft of male; flesh as if it was some incredibly beautiful monument almost too worthy of her attentions.
Her lips parted expectantly, her feasting mouth lowered, and her moistened tongue came into view. Her left hand came up to tenderly stroke his scrotum, heavy with his new load of cum. She massaged the base of his now gently jerking cock, encircled it in her hand. . . and suddenly her head darted down and her famished, moistly ovalled mouth seized what it wanted and needed so desperately, the only nourishment it cared about at that single, ecstatic moment.
Jill began to slowly suck his cock, running her tongue wetly around and around the warmly pulsating head. She teasingly put her tongue into the tiny open slit of the moist gland until she could feel it throbbing as if it had a life of its own and would gush forth at any second a great, never-ending fountain of creamy white cum.
Her head bobbed up and down slavishly over the tree-stump like shaft of flesh now, sucking harder, her tongue swirling faster, and Prescott's buttocks twisted wildly on the carpet. His hands tightened into fists in her silken tresses, pushing her head down hard over his gigantic column. Jill could feel its hot spongy head batter against the back of her throat, but she made no move to alleviate the intense ramming pressure there, ovalling her lips to suck maddeningly, striving to draw the very essence of his being out of the little hole at the end of his penis.
"Slower, Jill," Will commanded. "Suck slower and tease me."
And Jill complied. She took the lust-bloated cockhead between her sharp white teeth, began to nip at it tantalizingly while she swirled and flicked her tongue round and round the tiny seeping split in the tip. Prescott moaned ecstatically, levering his buttocks up off the rug and driving his hardness between her sucking lips and far back into her throat, almost gagging her. She sucked him voraciously for a long moment, her tongue like a fiery lash of pleasure-giving heat all around his rigid penis . . . and then she withdrew her wetly ovalled mouth completely from his cock. She found a sudden perverse pleasure in the anguished wail which escaped his lips, and she felt a new emotion enter her body and brain at that moment; it was one of power. This man was at her mercy, she knew that; she dictated the extent of his pleasure by how long she sucked him and how well. It was a giddy, dizzying kind of power and it served to heighten immeasurably her own churning, seething desires.
Her head dropped down again and her soft young lips closed over Will's virilely aroused cock once more, nibbling and licking the smooth
rubbery head as she had before. She sucked him with growing expertise, reveling in the feel of his sperm-bloated testicles in her hands, his warm living cock in her hands and in her mouth. . . God, nothing had ever been this mind-blowingly free and good! She was awhirl inside, as if all the atoms of her being had split apart from one another and were tumbling and tossing in billowing heat within her erotically contorting body.
Then, tantalizingly, she ceased her fervent sucking of his cock, let it slide from her mouth, and drew back. She stared with lust-fevered eyes at the man who lay with twisted features and tightly closed eyes before her
stared at the pulsating shaft which she held gripped in her small, moist hands.
"Come on, baby, come on . . . " Will pleaded. Slavishly, her head darted back to his upthrust organ and her butter-soft mouth closed over it as she kneaded and manipulated his balls. Her head began to move quickly up and down, her extended tongue licking his huge bulbous head, torturing the man who lay before her. She laved at Prescott's cock from base to tip; she licked and nibbled and sucked his semen-bloated testicles. She worked faster and faster around his palpitating thickness, as if compelled to increase her movements by some hidden marionette strings manipulating her actions.
Licking and sucking and kissing and teasing the huge cock in unabashed, mindless enchantment.
*
*
*
Almost asleep in a relaxed state of torpor, Tom felt warm, soft lips begin to move along his inner thigh and then a hot, wet tongue lick experimentally at the flaccid expanse of his cock. He opened his eyes, and saw the smiling, amused face of Edie Prescott.
"I thought that would wake you up," she said, caressing his balls with her hand. His cock stirred, began to come awake as he was now awake. "Would you like me to suck you again, Tom dear? I simply love to suck cock!"
"I can believe that, all right!" Tom grinned.
"Well?" Edie laughed.
"Sounds like a good idea.
"Oh no you don't, Tom!" said the voice of Harry Sommers who slithered across the rug to sit next to Edie. He was smiling hugely. "It's my turn to have Edie's talented lips work their wonder. She's going to suck my cock for awhile."
Edie looked at him eagerly. "Why, Harry dear, I didn't think you cared."
"Goddamned right I do! Look at my cock will you, Edie? It's fairly hammering for you."
She stared at his fully erect, purplish-headed penis and quivered deliciously. "So it is, Harry, so it is!"
"She's all yours, Harry." laughed Tom.
With a little crooning sound, her eyes shining brightly, Edie Prescott lowered her head and took Harry's turgid shaft between her ovalled lips.
Tom looked around the room, his own pulsating cock now restlessly erect. Damn, but the atmosphere of a party like this made a veritable satyr out of a man! He was just as horny now as he had been before Edie had blown him, and he had sucked her cunt. He saw John Barnett lying between the wide-splayed legs of Gay Sommers on the far side of the room, running his tongue hotly round and round her succulent little asshole while she mewled in rapture. He saw Beth Wellington, incredibly enough, lying in the embrace of the redheaded Laura Barnett, their tongues sliding in and out of one another's mouths as they masturbated one another with slender, feverish fingers, while George Wellington watched.
He didn't see his wife Jill, and he didn't see Will Prescott.
Frowning slightly, Tom got shakily to his feet. His eyes lingered on the two women embracing one another, and the lascivious sight of their lesbianistic actions caused his long rigid penis to throb with increasing intensity. Then, wondering where Jill had gotten off to, he wandered toward the door between the two rooms.
He heard the hot, moaning sounds of ecstasy coming from the bedroom as soon as he stepped through the door.
"Holy Jesus Christ!" he whispered softly.
What he saw made his eyes bulge wide in shocked disbelief, and at the same time made his painfully throbbing cock grow to its fullest trembling erectness. A sharp pain of overwhelming lust shot through his groin and into his belly, and his testicles began to pound with the need for imminent release.
It was Jill, his sweet lovely wife, Jill, and she was kneeling there on the rug, her softly ovalled mouth sucking off Will Prescott with obvious eagerness.
He stared in carnal fascination at his wife's swirling head and extended tongue as she licked Will's saliva-glistening penis. As he watched, her warm wet lips closed over Prescott's long palpitating cock and sucked slavishly at it for a long moment, then released it teasingly . . . only to repeat the process again and again. The room was filled with lewd wet sucking sounds and there were pools of saliva on Will's loins from his wife's hotly drooling desire.
The more he stared in lewd fascination at the lascivious sight before his bulging eyes, the more intensely aroused Tom became. And then his gaze locked on the sensuously undulating moons of his wife's tender young buttocks, at the puckered brown anus flexing and unflexing so tantalizingly there, at the moistly secreting, hair-fringed furrow of her cunt nestled between her convulsing thighs as she sucked hungrily at this virtual
stranger's cock. He stared at them, those smoothly rounded buttocks of the woman who was bonded to him in marriage. . . the asshole and the cunt of that subserviently kneeling woman. . . and suddenly he knew that he had to join in this carnal scene. He had to fuck her! Yes, yes, that was it! He had to fuck her in her hot little cunt, while he shoved his finger all the way up her asshole!
Up and down Jill's head flashed with crazed speed, savoring the fleshy rod of desire which she held gripped in her hot hands. She couldn't get enough of it. . if she could take it all the way into her belly she would have. Never had anything been this wildly inflaming to her senses.
"Jill, do you hear me?" a voice suddenly said behind her. "Do you hear me? This is Tom, this is your husband Tom. I'm going to fuck you, Jill! I'm going to fuck your cunt while you're sucking Will. I'm going to fuck your cunt and shove my finger all the way up into your asshole! Do you hear me, Jill?"
Jill began to tremble with still more lust-fire, for the very concept of her husband being present inside her sex-crazed body with his penis and his finger at the same moment she was sucking Will Prescott's cock was unbearably exciting. She drew back from Will's loins, turning her head.
"Yes!" she moaned almost incoherently. "Yes, my darling Tom, fuck me, fuck me! Fuck my cunt while you finger my asshole! Do me, Tom my sweet love, do me, fuck me, make me cum like I've never cum before!"
With a groan of sheer animal lust, Tom stepped forward and Jill felt his hard, muscled hands draw the quivering moons of her upthrust ass cheeks wide apart. He knelt behind her, lowering his head to briefly kiss each perfect globe, and then his feverish cock was being drawn along her passion-drenched furrow and poised at the entrance to her wildly quivering vagina. She moaned and mewled, endeavoring to lunge back against his throbbing masculinity, but he restrained her; it was his moment of power, his choice as to the time he would take her.
He used his index finger to toy at the winking nether ring of her puckered brown anus, stretching the elastic opening wide and wiggling the fingertip just a little way inside. She mewled again, and then he sank it to the first knuckle almost brutally, at the same time inserting just the palpitating head of his swollen penis between her velvet soft, eagerly trembling cuntal lips. She wailed and moaned, begging him with babbling, childlike words to fuck her, fuck her, fuck her.
And suddenly, with a cry of agonized pleasure, Tom did just that.
He fucked her . . . his finger and his cock were rammed forward savagely at the exact same instant, his finger soaring to the palm in the warm, brown, forbidden depths of her fightly puckered anus and his great rod of palpitating flesh thundering to its hilt in the sweet, hot channel of her tight young cunt. Pain and pleasure, rolling in one billowing cloud throughout her naked body, made Jill cry out in beautiful agony at this magnificent assault upon her defenseless loins by the man she loved.
"AAAAAJIIIIEEEEEE AAAAAHHHHHHHH HHHHHH!"
She began to roll and fling her buttocks back against the two parallel shafts, feeling them deep in her belly and in her bowels. Then, with a frenzy unsurpassed by any other, she returned to the task of sucking orgasm from Will Prescott's demanding cock. Will turned his body convulsively toward her, sensing the urgency, the great driving need, in the lust-fevered young wife and wanting to release his own huge buildup of semen.
Around and around the monstrous sword of hot flesh Jill swirled her maddening tongue as Tom triumphantly fucked into her with long, looping strokes of his lust-swollen cock. His finger ramming into her rectal passage was savage, as if it were seeking vengeance on her anus for some inexplicable misdeed. She was crooning and gurgling like a woman gone totally and irrevocably insane as she licked and sucked Prescott's thick cock, as she heaved with impossible gyrations and rotations back against her husband's invading finger and penis.
Soon now, soon now, she thought mindlessly, soullessly, beatifically. Soon they would both cum inside her, spewing their loads of hot white sticky seed into her belly and throat, consuming her, drowning her in the most wondrous liquid of all . . . Ooooooh, God, she never dreamed anything could be like this!
Behind her, Tom was being driven progressively wilder by the lascivious sight of his beauteous young wife suckling Will's quivering masculine member. His burrowing strokes were taking on sadistic proportions into her cunt, and his finger was like a white-hot poker in the recesses of her bowels. His balls smacked with machine-gun rapidity against her sweating, well-lubricated furrow as he flexed and hammered his loins against his wife's swirling ass cheeks. He began to chant almost incoherently, "Got to fuck you harder, got to fuck you harder, got to fuck you harder.
"Yes, yes, yesssssss!" Jill cried crazily. "Fuck me harder, my sweet, fuck me harder so you can cum and I can cum and Will can cum!"
Prescott's hands came up in a convulsive grasp and his fingers curled in Jill's flaying hair. He began to rotate her head with its fiery tongue from side to side across the burning head of his cock, and then he reached down to grasp and squeeze her ripely swinging breasts as he raised the upper portion of his body reflexively off the carpet, his eyes glazed with his impending climax.
"Oh Jesus, I'm almost there!" he howled. "I'm almost ready to blow my wad! Oh suck me, succkkkkk meeeeee!"
Tom drew his rigid monster out just a little from his wife's palpitating cuntal slit, watching with lust-bated breath as the wet glistening base appeared before his eyes. He moaned as he saw the glans still sunk between the wide, tight-stretched oval opening, and then thrust harshly forward again, his breath feverishly expelling from his contracting lungs like the breath of some satyr-like beast on Jill's tingling, hollowed back. A gasp of
total abandoned lust rendered from his throat, and he began sawing insanely in and out of her warmly clasping channel once more, while his finger thudded into her rectum in time to the pistonings of his wildly throbbing cock.
And Jill buffeted back against this invader like a rutting bitch dog in heat, harder and faster, harder and faster as her tongue licked columns of swelling heat across the huge cock in her grasp. Her fingers were convulsive talons of fire splayed on Will's balls as she bent his swelling rod to her face, and her breasts were as swollen in Prescott's fingers as were his testicles.
Cum, she begged them, all of them. Cum, my darlings, all of you, cumcumcumcumcumcum mmmmmmmmmmmm!
Suddenly then, as if they had somehow heard and understood her mute, salacious plea, they came. Oh God, how they came!
Prescott was the first, arching his naked buttocks high off the carpet, his fingers digging into the spongy softness of her breasts as if he wished to mold them into some sculpture for his future amusement. "Oh God, oh God, I'm cummmmmmmmiiiinnggggggggg..
Then his cock in Jill's grasping fingers began to jerk out of control, spewing forth great geysers of his hot molten cum, flooding Jill's mouth and throat with the bittersweet liquid. She tried to catch and swallow as much of the fluid as she could, her brain dancing crazily with the joy of the moment.
The sight of Will Prescott emptying his scrotum of seed into his wife's hungrily swallowing mouth was all that Tom needed to set off his own crashing orgasm. He gave one almost superhuman thrust into her tightly elastic cunt, shoving his finger as far as it would go in her ecstatically squirming rectum, and then his cock was ejaculating as well .
a swirling, roaring inferno of cum that filled Jill's cunt to overflowing. He watched it roll out around his wildly cumming cock to flow down along the dampened furrow of her pussy and along the backs of her thighs to pool on the carpet, and he continued to pump into her with prodigious power as she endeavored to milk his balls of every last droplet of the precious liquid with fantastic contortions of her buffeting hips.
Cum, oh cocks, cum,' cum, cum! thought Jill blissfully insane with lustful delight as she swallowed the last vestiges of Will Prescott's semen. Cum and never stop, make me cum, hurry oh cocks, I can feel it building, building . . . there! There it is! I'm cumming, too, aaaaaaaagggggghhhhhhhh!
Her orgasm lifted the very essence of Jill Parker free from the earthly confines of her body, sent her on a journey of such indescribable wonder that she screamed like a woman dying and never knew it, screamed and screamed and screamed as their cocks volcanoed the final dregs of their seed into her and onto her and out of all her bodily orifices, covered her
and filled her with that which she had come to love and want more than any single thing in the whole wide wonderful universe.
Jill was rendered completely unconscious by the magnitude of this orgasm and she collapsed across the body of Will Prescott when the final height had been attained. She was completely unaware when Tom, in unutterable thankfulness, lowered his head and tenderly lovingly, kissed her pink, sperm covered lips moments later.
The remainder of that night, and well into the wee hours of the new day, the five couples at the party performed every conceivable act of physical lust -- by twos and threes and fours, and more. It was a raging bacchanal, an orgy of impossibly mind-blowing proportions that left all of them completely exhausted, physically and mentally drained of all desires and emotions.
For Jill, however, nothing she subsequently did after awakening quite reached that immeasurably beautiful experience she had had with Will Prescott and with her husband, the man she now knew she truly loved, would always love. The man for whom all the pain and torment of her past life was small payment to win. The man, she knew, that was her life.
