Valerie stood in front of the horny man and slowly-ever so slowly-removed her bra ... then her panties ... standing totally naked to his lusty gaze ... picking up her succulent breasts and offering them to him ... letting one hand rove all over her curvaceous body ... stopping at her wet pussy ... separating her cunt lips so her hard, erect clit was visible.
Valerie knew by the look of longing on his face-and the hard erection he had-that this man was in her hands-or soon to be in her cunt!
CHAPTER ONE
"Oh darling," pouted Valerie Douglas, tossing her shoulder-length blonde hair in frustration. "I don't see why I can't go with you. Two weeks alone in this miserable town is too frightful to even think about." The young wife's voice was petulant, with just a tinge of hopefulness left in it.
Jordan Douglas sighed. Patiently but with irritation showing in his measured tone, he answered. "It's only business, Valerie, and it's only for a little while. Maybe next time you can come along, but you know it isn't my decision." Taking his head out of the copy of Rolling Stone which he was reading, the young husband tossed the "hippie" newspaper onto the free-form marble-topped coffee table which separated him from his wife. He reached out playfully and caressed Valerie's bare foot, which rested on the table next to a vase of yellow chrysanthemums.
"Hey, that tickles," she protested, but the azure-eyed wife's thoughts could not be so easily diverted. She gazed earnestly up at her dark-haired husband, and forced her mouth to shape itself into a smile. "If going to Vancouver for two weeks will help you to get a transfer someplace, then I'm all for it," she said. "When do you suppose Clifford will be deciding about that?"
"God only knows," replied Jordan. "The machinery of Clifford Helmann's mind is far beyond my comprehension. I know they need more personnel in Santa Barbara, and also in Albuquerque, and Cliff's hinted that I'm in line for a promotion...." He spread his hands open, palms up, in a gesture of having exhausted his store of information about the matter.
"I sure hope so," returned his wife adamantly. "Oh, Santa Barbara wouldn't that be great? Even Albuquerque would be better than this hole, but I'm just dying to move back to California. Honestly, when we left, I never thought it would be for so long...."
Her voice trailed off wistfully, and Jordan sensed resentment and reproach in her tone. It was his fault he knew it and Valerie knew it his fault alone that they were hundreds of miles from the Pacific Ocean, hundreds of miles from good mountain skiing, hundreds of miles from all the free and easy ambience that made California what it was. But at the time they left their little house in Saratoga to head back east, it had appeared to be the only feasible alternative. To Jordan, it had seemed like manna from heaven, being offered a job at all, any job, after spending six months standing in the lines at the so-called Department of Human Resources Development, collecting his weekly unemployment check.
"Any practical training?" the sarcastic gray-haired woman had asked him, handing him his check with begrudging fingers, as though it came from her own pocket.
"I went to the university for six years," Jordan replied.
The pinch-lipped woman wrote this down on a form. "Degree?" she asked.
"Masters in Philosophy," he replied, and "B.A. in Anthropology." The young man had felt guilty saying this, hearing the sighs and shuffling of feet from the out-of-work carpenters and plumbers standing behind him in the line.
"And what sort of work do you do?" the woman asked him, nonplussed by his education.
Jordan Douglas had said the first thing that came into his head. "I'm waiting for a flock," he replied.
No one had laughed or even smiled. "Your claim will expire in two weeks," the woman had droned, "and unless you can find a job by then, you must re-file, and your case will be re-examined."
Folding this sacred check in his wallet, Jordan listened to his boots click heavily on the floor as he walked out of the building and climbed into his Volkswagen in the parking lot. He started the engine easily, letting his foot play gently on the accelerator, listening to the faint skipping sound the motor made. On the dashboard, fastened with the small magnet which was all he had to remember his two years working as a designer at the Lockheed plant, was a list in his bold printing. It read:
TUESDAY unemployment 9:00 Val to dentist-3:00 check valves pay AAA bill call Mom pick up laundry Jordan dutifully crossed "unemployment" of the list, and was shifting the VW into reverse, when suddenly a head stuck itself into the window on the passenger side. The head was male, wearing a heavy leather Tunisian hat on top of thick, curly, auburn hair, and when its owner spoke, it was with an accent which Jordan recognized to be out-of-state.
"Excuse me," he said, with an unfamiliar east-coast politeness, "but could you tell me how to get to Santa Cruz? My car broke down and I had to leave her down at the British Motors garage and ... I mean, is there a bus or train or something?"
Jordan laughed slightly. Nothing to do anyway, he thought, that won't beat driving over the mountain, sitting on the beach, rapping with a stranger. "Jump in," he said languidly. "I'll drive you over."
And that was how he had met Clifford Helmann.
The next two weeks Valerie and Jordan looked back upon as a chaotic blur going-away parties, garage sales, dinners with Clifford at The Cats and the London House. And then Clifford drove back east in his Morgen, followed by Valerie and Jordan in the Volkswagen bus they had bought, paid for by their old beetle, and a month's salary which Cliff had casually handed over. A month's salary at Jordan's new job as designer and silk-screener for Clifford's brain-child, Triad Productions.
* * *
My God, thought Jordan, still absently stroking his wife's unresponsive foot as he fumbled with his free hand in the Chinese lacquered box where they kept their marijuana, where does the time go?
Four years had somehow slipped away from his grasp, finding him nearing thirty years old and the manager of the project department of a thriving and expanding business. The academic world he had once dreamed of had long since fallen to the wayside, as the ambitious side of his nature had taken over and business success shaped the pattern of his life. It was strangely intoxicating, mused the dark-haired man, to be so close to the helm of an operation, to watch it grow and gain in stature, so fascinating in truth that he usually forgot the world he'd left behind....
But the slim, intense blonde across from him would not let him forget. "Jordan," she was saying, "if we want to go someplace else, you've got to tell Clifford. You can't expect him to know by osmosis or something. Maybe you don't hate it here, but I assure you I am absolutely bored to tears." Her voice quivered.
Doesn't he ever care about anything but his damn job? Valerie thought bitterly. Not that she didn't want a successful husband, of course, and not that she didn't appreciate living in a tastefully-furnished apartment, and all the other benefits of Jordan's making a good deal of money, but it was as though she didn't really have a husband at all. Of course she knew she ought to be grateful that she could spend her days on the tennis court, while Jordan was out earning money, but the young wife begrudged the fact that those courts were in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and not next to the shimmering Pacific. And far more than that, she begrudged the fact that Jordan seemed less married to her than to Triad Productions.
Jordan's reply was irritable, and he kept his gaze fixed on the table where his fingers were expertly rolling a marijuana cigarette. "You are being irrational," he answered. "You seem to forget that this is not a game of musical states for the benefit of the company wives. Can't you ever stand behind me and be a help to my career, instead of complaining?"
"I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip. "I just...." Valerie would have liked to say, I just want attention. I just want you to love me. I just want to feel as though life isn't passing me by, here in this awful town, but none of these thoughts could find expression. "I'm sorry," she repeated, staring down at the Persian carpet on the floor. "I'll be all right when you're in Vancouver. I promise."
"That's more like it," Jordan said, his lips smiling but his eyes still cold, as he handed his attractive wife the slender cigarette and lit it for her.
The striking blonde held the cigarette up to her lips, blowing out Jordan's match as the paper caught fire. Then she inhaled deeply, drawing the sweet-smelling smoke into her lungs and holding it there for as long as she could. Meanwhile, she passed the cigarette back to her husband and he also drew in the pungent smoke, leaning back contentedly in his modern leather and chrome chair.
Silently, the young couple passed the lighted marijuana cigarette back and forth between them, an evening ritual which in their lives, and in the lives of many of the people at Triad Productions, had nearly supplanted the cocktail. When Jordan spoke next, his voice was relaxed and warm.
"Listen. Valerie, I nearly forgot to tell you, but there's a company party next weekend. A pretty big one. I think, because they're having it down at that hunting lodge Kensington, I think its called."
"Oh Jordan," she exclaimed in disappointment. "And we have to miss it!"
"Well, I have to miss it, but I think you should go anyway." he told her. Clifford already said he'd take you, since I'll be out of town. It would be more fun than just staying at home," he added lamely, "and there are a lot of people you haven't met yet who will be there. I'd like you to go."
Valerie smiled. "All right, I'll go." And to herself, she thought. Maybe then I can tell Cliff how much we want to move west, since my dear husband is afraid to say a word.
CHAPTER TWO
Valerie Douglas pressed the button near the floorboards to disconnect her fully-automatic vacuum cleaner and send its flexible hose shooting back into the depths of the apartment wall. She surveyed the immaculate room with a grim sort of housewifely satisfaction, feeling subconsciously that neatness and order around her would have to carry over to an inner neatness and order.
"But that is the whole damn trouble," the suntanned blonde murmured, half out loud. All of her life had become so patterned, so predictable, so dull. "I'm only twenty-eight," she said, tasting the sound of the words as they fell from her full red lips. "Only twenty-eight."
What a mockery it all is, her thoughts continued, as the slim young woman tossed her hair back from her face in an unconscious gesture, and switched on the expensive stereo tape system, not even caring which tape happened to be on at the moment. Myths of youthful freedom, myths of a new kind of life ... but its all the same. I could be any age, in any century, and I'd still be a bored woman letting her life slip away.
Old Joan Baez songs were playing, their melodies sad and haunting, and Valerie sat down on a big dark blue suede pillow, lit a cigarette, and surrendered her mind to the thoughts that milled up from its depths. Jordan had left for Vancouver that morning, and the azure-eyed woman felt twinges of loneliness already beginning at the prospect of two weeks of house-cleaning, tennis lessons, and occasional boring coffee klatches with her tedious female neighbors. Not that . .things were so different when her good-looking, brooding husband was actually in Milwaukee, for he spent virtually every waking minute preoccupied with Triad Productions and his rising career as project department manager. Why, sometimes she even suspected he was working out company problems right in the midst of their lovemaking! But the shapely young wife could never actually question Jordan about that, for when it happened she was so grateful to be made love to at all....
Pensively she blew rings of smoke into the air of her spotless living room, a trick Valerie had learned as part of her sorority initiation when she was a freshman at Stanford. She should have known better, she mused, than to entice Jordan into a little morning love when he was half-dressed and worried about getting to the airport on time. But faced with the prospect of his absence for two long weeks, she just could not resist when she woke to see his dark-tanned, compactly muscular body standing across the room from her bed.
After a restless sleep, the sensual coals of desire were smoldering inside her and her awakened need to have his long hard cock slipping hotly in and out of her hungry cunt was too strong to resist. And so she'd persuaded her husband to take off his pants, but it had been a fiasco. like a record on the wrong speed, his strong athletic body had thrust repeatedly into hers, his swollen hardness racing in and out of her heated cuntal depths. And, like the innumerable times before, just as her passionate climb began, he'd whipped right off, leaving her seething body in rapturous agony, with orgasm only seconds away!
Valerie had lain in bed, fighting back hot tears of anger and frustration, while Jordan jumped up, wiped off his softening penis, and continued dressing. Only the fact that he was leaving for two weeks kept the young wife from saying something bitter and cutting; she didn't want him to leave with the memory of an ugly scene between them, but she had to bite her tongue to keep quiet.
"Sorry, Val, but I've really got to run," he'd apologized, buttoning the cuffs of his striped shirt. "Don't bother getting up ... I can have breakfast at the airport." Before she knew it, a quick kiss had been planted on her cheek, and the apartment door was slamming behind her insensitive spouse.
Plaintively feminine, the words of a song broke Valerie's reverie, forcing her back into the present.
"Once I was a single girl, Dressed in clothes so fine.
Now I am a married girl, Go ragged all the time....
Wish I was a single girl again, Oh, I wish I was a single girl again....
No, puzzled the young woman, it isn't like that. I do want to be married. I do love Jordan. But I want to be alive too. I want something to happen ... some excitement ... I want to feel as though I'm still really alive, and not just a backdrop to his career.
Valerie lit another cigarette, gazing vaguely out the window. In only another half hour she could leave for her tennis lesson, she thought vaguely. Only another half hour to kill.
CHAPTER THREE
Clifford Helmann took Valerie's arm in a gallant, Old World gesture which belied his fashionable rock-music-star appearance, and helped the striking blonde woman out of his low red Alfa Romeo. Already it was late evening, a warm and still summer night, and strains of music wafted out from the windows of the big wooden hunting lodge. As she walked across the parking lot holding up her floor-length skirt, pine needles crunching underfoot, Valerie could feel herself begin to tingle at the sound of the loud drumbeat, and she smiled up at her husband's red-haired boss.
"Oh Clifford, I'm so glad you brought me along," she cried impulsively, giving his arm a squeeze. "You just can't imagine how bored I am, with Jordan away now."
Cliff Helmann looked down sympathetically at the wide-eyed woman.
"Well, we won't let you go on being bored," he said with a smile. "Or lonely either." His eyes traveled up and down her body as he spoke, briefly pausing at the low-cut neckline of her brightly silk evening blouse, and Valerie felt a little tremor of excitement shake her belly.
Clifford opened the heavy oaken door and Valerie followed him into the Kensington Lodge, transformed for one night from a gathering place for fishermen, field dog enthusiasts, and burly men in red-and-black-checked wool shirts, to the setting for a Triad Productions party. If one ignored the stuffed birds and other trophies along the walls and concentrated only on the gay crowd of young men and women dancing under the colored lights, and milling about with drinks and marijuana cigarettes in hand, it seemed like oh, like the Filmore in the really early days, thought Valerie happily. Of course even the singer himself had a frightfully Middle Western twang, but the enthusiastic young woman was quite willing to overlook that small matter ... he was good looking, and the beat of the music was intense and throbbing.
Val looked around her, as her escort suddenly disappeared in order to take care of his obligations as host for the party. The young blonde felt herself begin to vibrate in time with the loud music, her foot tapping hopefully, and before she knew it a handsome, man whom she'd never seen before was asking her to dance.
When the music stopped, Valerie saw Clifford moving toward her, carrying in his hand two glasses of an amber liquid. He handed one to her, apologizing as he did so.
"I'm afraid all we have to drink at the moment is scotch and vermouth. We've telephoned down to Highway Liquors, asking them to bring up the other stuff we ordered, but for now we'll just have to make do with this."
"Oh, that's all right," lied the shapely blonde woman. "I'm quite happy with scotch." She sipped the strong liquor, feeling the warm smoothness of it coat her throat as she swallowed. Actually, Valerie seldom drank anything stronger than wine or the mild beer which even she had to admit was one of the best points of life in Wisconsin. But the scotch tasted good, and she savored the fiery glow as the liquid poured into her stomach.
Soon the band began playing again old Chuck Berry rock music, this time, which brought waves of nostalgia to twenty-eight year old Valerie, as she recalled the dances her sorority at Stanford had held in the old days before she had even met Jordan. For a minute she wondered where Jordan was that night, what he was doing at the Lady Hill Hotel in Vancouver ... or was he at one of Vancouver's nightclubs? ... or in a smoke-filled coffee house? ... or talking to some girl he had just met? But the young wife pushed these thoughts to the rear of her mind, as the alcohol made her relax and enjoy herself.
"For now," Clifford was saying, "why don't you have another drink, and then we'll dance, if you don't mind. I have everything organized here as much as it needs to be, and it's been far too long since I've held you in my arms."
Valerie started a bit at his words. Held her in his arms?!!? But then she realized he only meant that it had been too long since they had danced, and she smiled a dazzling smile up at her husband's good-looking boss. She nodded her consent even though something about the way he'd phrased that invitation to dance made her a little uncomfortable, and for an instant she thought she detected a certain lewdness in the way he was looking at her. But she brushed these thoughts away mentally, attributing them to her lonely state of mind.
Valerie finished her second glass of scotch and then she and Clifford headed out to the dance floor as the small band in the front of the big hunting lodge began to play a romantic old song. She felt a little bit dizzy from the strong and unfamiliar buzz of alcohol through her brain, but it was a dizziness of happy exhilaration. As Clifford wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, the young woman unconsciously cuddled up against the fashionably hip executive until the rounded mounds of her breasts pressed tightly against his chest. It felt so wonderful to dance with a man again, she thought hazily; Jordan was always working, always preoccupied, and they hadn't danced together for what seemed like years. It filled Valerie with a rush of happiness to move slowly to the music with Clifford holding her tight, to pretend that someone was really interested in her again.
As they danced, Val realized just how close her husband's boss was holding her. They were dancing well together, but she tried to pull away from him a little, feeling that other people might be watching, might be later discussing how close they had been dancing. However, Clifford only drew her more tightly against him, and Valerie surrendered easily to the pressure of his arms. She told herself that she could not care at all whether people were watching or talking about her. It felt very agreeable to dance closely with Clifford, and she thought rebelliously that it did not matter a whit if all Milwaukee saw them!
Val smiled flirtatiously up at Clifford, wondering when the right moment would come for her to ask him about the transfer which she and her husband wanted so very much. She knew that it was important for Jordan's career and for this so-important transfer, that the company president think well of her, and besides, she had always felt fond of Clifford, although now they very seldom saw him socially. In fact, this was the first time Val had even been with him when Jordan was not there.
As they glided across the romantically lit dance floor, Valerie suddenly bit her lip as she felt Clifford slyly move one of his legs between her thighs so that the tender mound of her pubic area rubbed hard against the top of his thigh. The thin silkiness of her long dress hid nothing from her startled senses, and she could clearly feel the coarse fabric of the executive's fashionable blue jeans pressing tightly between her legs. Against her hip, she felt a growing pressure as the softness of his penis began to slowly stiffen in response to the motion of her pelvis grinding lightly against it as they danced.
Valerie Douglas felt fearful tinglings of excitement as she realized what was happening beneath his trousers. Of course, she told herself, he is only flirting with me. Of course nothing is going to happen, nothing possibly can happen. He's Jordan's boss and Jordan's friend ... But it really isn't hurting anything or anyone to dance like this, is it? It felt exhilarating, and flickers of illicit sensuality flashed through her at the pressure of his penis against her body.
But before the young wife had a chance to make up her mind about what was actually happening, the song came to an end and the band leader announced that the group would take a ten-minute break before they played again. Shivering with nervous anticipation of what might come next, Valerie followed Clifford to a big leather couch at the rear of the room. One of the company delivery boys, who wore a faraway smile on his adolescent face, brought them more scotch with ice, and handed them a marijuana cigarette rolled in hot-pink paper. Clifford lit it, and they passed it back and forth in silence, sipping on the scotch to cool their throats in between drags on the powerful drug. Then the handsome company president began telling Valerie some funny stories about his life before they had met, when he first started Triad Productions after graduating from college. He acted as though nothing at all unusual had happened out on the dance floor, and Valerie mentally laughed off her fears.
It took about half an hour and several glasses of whiskey before Valerie Douglas managed to get the topic of conversation around to how much she wanted to move back to the west coast, hinting but never directly saying that she hoped her husband Jordan was soon to be transferred. Clifford's unexpected reaction was to put his arm around her shoulders in an obviously intimate gesture which shocked the blonde woman.
"Is it being lonely you are?" he asked in a mock Irish brogue, his eyes smiling. "Well, I can fix that up for you. But don't worry about Jordan's transfer, at least not until you and me get to know each other a little better!"
Was he making fun of her? Or was he serious? Or was he just trying to change the subject? The lonely wife caught her breath in dismay at his words. He was apparently propositioning her, but in a way that suggested that her husband's career might be at stake. Or was he only teasing? His blue eyes laughed but did not give away any clues to the distraught young woman. It was impossible that he really meant what he was saying after all, this man was not only her husband's boss but her husband's best friend as well!
But what shocked and astounded Valerie to the bottom of her heart was that somehow she hoped that Clifford Helmann was joking! A brazen voice inside of her was laughing maniacally, and something that had slumbered for years was coming alive again. Perhaps it was only the alcohol, so subtly combined with the marijuana, that was clouding her consciousness. What on earth was making her feel all tingling and excited...?
Then Valerie felt her redheaded escort's knee press tightly against her thigh, and her brain reeled as she realized that all her suspicions about this man had been only too correct. And to make it even worse, he leaned forward and whispered hotly into her ear, his words and his breath sending shivers down her spine.
"After all, after a few drinks, don't you feel like trying a new man?"
"Wha-what?" she gasped, but she could scarcely pretend not to understand the very unsubtle meaning behind her husband's boss' words.
Perhaps he is only testing me, thought the shocked woman. Perhaps he is trying to see how I respond under pressure. Perhaps he is even trying to find out, for Jordan, if I am being a faithful wife. But she did not really believe that any of these possibilities could be true, for Clifford's manner was very obvious he wanted to seduce her' And the thought both scared and excited Valerie. Here she was in this weird converted hunting lodge, with Jordan's career and their transfer to Santa Barbara hanging in the balance ... it was a truly unbelievable situation, but it was really happening, and Valerie Douglas did not know what to do!
Beside the pretty blonde, Clifford Helmann said nothing but sat still with a faint smile of confidence on his lips. He had been through this before, and he was pretty sure of what was going on in this lovely woman's mind. He knew that Valerie had probably never in her life contemplated his seducing her, but just for that reason, he was giving her plenty of time to think and ponder over what the loss of the transfer would mean to her and to Jordan. He knew he hadn't completed the seduction yet, but he wasn't worried. A few more drinks and a little more pressure, and it would all fall into place. The only thing that bothered him was wondering why he hadn't done this long ago, when he had first met Jordan Douglas and his strikingly beautiful wife. Of course, in the beginning Valerie had not seemed so lonely, so vulnerable, so actually willing and ready.
Already he could see how confused she was, how upset he was making her. Yes, everything was going even better than he had planned and Clifford was quite certain he'd have this pretty wife exactly where he wanted her before she knew what had happened. And what was more, he was sure that she wanted it just as much as he did! Though, most- likely, she hadn't yet admitted that to herself, and would never admit it to him.
When the band began to play again, Valerie and Clifford made no move to get up and dance. In the warm haze of alcohol, Val sat placidly, watching Cliff lean over to refill her glass or hand her another joint of marijuana, and she thought of how lovely it really was to once again feel alive, feel important, feel as though someone were paying attention to her, wanted her. When she and Jordan were out together, so often the pretty blonde woman felt like a stage prop, especially at company functions where the men ignored the women to talk together, and she never could think of anything to say to the other married women. Sometimes Val would even find herself envying the company secretaries young girls in obscenely short skirts, uniformly big-breasted and long-legged for at least when they were spoken to, it was not because they happened to be someone's wife....
For a long time, Jordan had been too involved with his work to bother about such unimportant things as treating his wife like a beautiful woman, and she was realizing how good it felt to be taken care of again, to be appreciated. Perfectly naturally, she moved closer to Clifford, cuddling against the protective strength of his arm, and relaxed against her.
* * *
When Valerie later tried to recall the sequence of events that night, things were just a hazy blur. She knew they had danced again, and that she had felt Clifford's penis rubbing seductively against her belly as he held her close to him. She remembered someone being very drunk and calling out, "Remember the Alamo!" with a loud Texas accent. But then the dancing somehow ended, and the next memory she had was when she realized, with amazement, what was going on in the upstairs lounges of the hunting lodge, and even down in the main room!
As though in a dream, the intoxicated blonde began to notice scattered groans and sighs throughout the room, and tearing her eyes away from the man next to her, she peered around the big darkened room. To her amazement she suddenly realized that many people were no longer standing about, smoking and drinking. And as she squinted harder into the dim light of the smoky lodge, she saw that something terribly shocking was taking place.
On the long leather couches that were grouped about the walls of the room, many of the guests were kissing and, even more astounding, Valerie ascertained that some of them had removed part or all of their clothing! The only illumination in the large room was from the lights over the dance floor, but the young blonde was almost certain she was seeing various people, whom she knew vaguely from other company functions, actually making love, right here in front of everyone else!
Valerie Douglas was not exactly a prude. She had, she told her friends and acquaintances, "seen a lot of things," and "been around a little". Certainly she had never expected anything in dull old Milwaukee to shock a worldly California girl, but now her mouth was agape in disbelief. The young wife, her heart quickening its beat automatically, leaned over her escort's arm to get a better view of the other side of the room, unconsciously pressing her full warm breast against Clifford's side as she did so. She soon realized that she'd not been imagining things. Off in one comer of the room the darkest comer, of course she saw a beautiful young woman with long red hair arching her body over the back of one of the long sofas, her dress split open down to the waist, and her eyes closed in sensual bliss. And bent lewdly over her squirming chest was one of the men who worked every day with Valerie's husband Jordan but whose name the open-mouthed blonde wife could not recall, his mouth locked hotly to the redhead's naked white breast.
Valerie was dumbfounded with amazement at this obvious display of public lustfulness. Since Jordan had been working at Triad Productions, there had been a great number of company parties, and the young woman was quite used to having people around her imbibe too much alcohol, to seeing secretaries flirt with their bosses directly under a wife's jealous eyes, even to people falling asleep after smoking too much marijuana! But never anything so blatant, so depraved, as this sexual activity, and for just this reason, the pretty blonde woman continued to stare, her eyes searching the room in disbelief and a sort of excitement she did not want to truly admit.
A thin moan of ecstasy arose, seemingly of its own accord, from somewhere near the band, and Valerie Douglas sat bolt upright to stare harder at the part of the large leather couch that was directly in front of the still-playing band. In between drum-beats, she could hear strange whining noises, and craned her neck to see where they were coming from. And then she saw it, and what she saw made her grip her own hands until her fingernails dug red half moons into her skin, the shock penetrating her incredulous mind making her oblivious to any pain.
On the leather couch, directly in front of all the other dancing and drinking guests of the Triad Productions party, Valerie could see a woman in a purple India-print dress, her hair a wild exotic mass of brown curls. Although in the indistinct light, the company wife could not quite make out who the woman was, she could see that she was young, very young, and that she had large, full breasts which were now joggling madly beneath her dress as she bounced up and down on the couch.
At first glance, Valerie had not realized quite what this woman or young girl was doing, but then with a start of shock, she noticed the two legs that hung down below the couch. The legs wore faded blue jeans tucked into cowboy boots, and gradually the fact dawned on the intoxicated wife that the frizzy-haired lady was actually making love to a man that was lying there beneath her. Incredible as it might seem, this woman was straddling him and allowing him to shove his penis inside her open vagina, right before the eyes of everyone in this room! The girl's mouth hung loosely open and her pretty head rolled on her shoulders as she pumped madly over the man on the couch, keeping up a furious rhythm in time with the hard rock beat of the background music.
Valerie's mind still rebelled at what she was seeing, and she shook her blonde head in wonderment, as though it were all a vision which she could make disappear by an act of will. Frantically she looked around her, but there was no doubt at all about what was going on other couples as well were locked in extremely lewd embraces, writhing and moaning uninhibitedly. Everyone seemed to be truly losing control of their passions and yet no one else in the whole room seemed to be upset at what was happening! The whole situation was just madly incredible! Warning gongs sounded ominously in the back of Valerie's liquor-clouded brain. Shouldn't she ask Cliff to take her home? A swinging party was one thing, but to be at a party of this nature when her husband was in Vancouver was quite another matter! And the very atmosphere of the old hunting lodge felt as electric and tense as a live bomb.
Within another minute, though, Valerie Douglas' thoughts reverted back to her own situation, as she felt a strange hand on her naked leg! Somehow, while she had been absorbed in wide-eyed staring at those all around her, Clifford Helmann had slid his hand up underneath the hem of her long skirt. Now, to her titillation and half-horror, she could feel his fingers more than halfway up her thigh!
The blonde wife jumped at the alien touch, and even moreso at the powerful erotic sensation beginning to burn and throb in her loins. She tried to move away, tugging hard at his wrist to tear it from her tingling flesh. But every move sent her head spinning with its over-load of liquor and marijuana, until the young woman fell back against the protective arm around her and ceased to struggle.
Hot flashes shot through her body as she listened to the moans and groans coming from all comers of the darkened room. The people all around her were doing incredible things, and it certainly seemed to Valerie that Clifford, who had respectfully treated her as his friend's wife and nothing more during all the years she had known him, was now trying to do these very same things to her. Unsuccessfully she struggled to dislodge his hand from where it had wedged itself between her own tightly-clenched thighs, but then a series of ecstatic female gasps made her look back up at the stage. All the band members had ceased to play their instruments, and the only noise in the big dark room was made by naked bodies slapping together, and by the accompanying cries of pain and desire.
Suddenly something snapped within the young blonde wife. There was something wrong here, something very wrong, she was sure. She knew she had to go home now, right this minute, before she was tempted to do something wickedly adulterous and forbidden which she would only regret later on. For Valerie was honest enough with herself, even intoxicated as she was, to realize how her own body was responding to the visual stimulation all around her.
"Cl-Clifford," she whispered, trembling with nervousness and unwanted arousal, her own voice sounding vague and distant.
"What is it, baby?" asked the redheaded man dreamily. As he spoke, his fingers inched further up her leg, coming into sudden shocking contact with the crotch band of her sheer nylon panties. She could hear his hoarse and labored breathing between his words, and the sound of it sent further tremors through the young woman's receptive body.
"Clifford," she tried again, not wanting to sound like a silly married prude, but still wanting to make her point. "I think we'd better go home." After a moment's wait and no response, she added, "I'm afraid I've had a little too much to drink."
Valerie's companion started at these words and looked over at her, pushing his Tunisian hat to the side in a vague gesture of disbelief. His eyes were gleaming in the dim light, and with cool calculation he looked up and down the sleek body of his friend's wife.
Apologetically and quickly, Valerie Douglas repeated her request. "I'm awfully sorry, Clifford, but can we please go home? I haven't drunk so much for ages and I'm tired."
The company president looked hard and penetratingly at Jordan's lithe-bodied wife. "All right," he said, then added, "I'd heard you thought Milwaukee was dull compared to the West Coast, and I thought you wanted to swing. But you were only talking, I guess."
"I'm not a hypocrite!" she protested, perhaps a bit too loud. And then the terrible thought flashed its message across the ambitious wife's mind: Maybe he's testing me. Maybe he's testing me, and if I don't pass the test Jordan won't be transferred!
"Please," she added desperately, "forgive me for sounding rude. It's just that I hardly drink at all, and I...."
"Of course," Clifford spoke, standing up and helping Valerie to her feet as he did so, his voice cold and aloof.
But as Valerie rose, something strange happened to the twenty-eight year old blonde. Her legs felt like jelly underneath her, and she had to reach suddenly for her escort's arm, her head spinning so dizzily that she could hardly stand up, much less walk. For without realizing it, she had consumed a very large quantity of scotch, nervously sipping at her ever-full glass as she stared at the abandoned people around her.
"Cl-Clifford," she murmured, falling against his chest. "I-I think I'm going to faint."
CHAPTER FOUR
Valerie came to with a start, her body trembling and covered with a film of perspiration. In pain, she opened her eyes, struggling to focus them properly. Her head was one dull throbbing ache, and already she could feel the unmistakable signs of approaching nausea.
Finally, and with difficulty, the whirling of colors ceased within the intoxicated wife's head, and her stomach settled. Her eyes focused on the room around her, a room with heavy dark-paneled wooden walls, more hunting prints and Currier and Ives reproductions hanging on them.
The room began to whirl again under her gaze, and Valerie was just closing her eyes and letting her head drop back on the couch where she lay, when she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. With an effort she opened her eyes again, blinking to see clearly and recognizing Clifford Helmann ... he was standing beside her, looking rather concerned.
"Oh Cliff," she said weakly. "Oh, where am I?"
The redheaded man laughed. "Just upstairs in the lodge," he answered. "Didn't you know there were rooms up here? For private parties."
"Oh," she murmured. Slowly it all came back to her, and a wave of embarrassment washed over the young woman as she remembered all the things which were going on, probably even now, just below where she now lay.
Clifford handed her a beer mug filled with steaming hot coffee. "Drink this," he said gently. "It will make you feel better." As Clifford spoke, he winked at Valerie, and already the very intoxicated blonde felt better, able to see the humor in the situation.
Valerie laughed. "I guess I should stick to dope," she admitted. "I thought alcoholism was one of the things our generation gave up long ago."
"Too bad we didn't," her companion smiled. "We abstained for awhile, of course, maybe in the sixties when no one with long hair would touch anything stronger than beer, but it was hardly a true renunciation. Now if anyone gave a party with no hard liquor, everybody would go home bitching about how cheap he was, and you can't really blame them. Especially in a place like this, where we're moving in two worlds, the business world, and the hip world. We have to stay in both of them we can't give up business because it brings in the bread, and we can't give up the hip world, because that's where our consumers are."
Val sipped at her coffee, feeling herself slowly returning to a state of sobriety as she listened to Clifford's words, yet not really following them, and marveling at how anyone could be this lucid so late at night although in actuality it was only a little past midnight.
Clifford laughed at a joke of his own. "You have to have both bread and butter. I feel like I'm doing a great community service, because none of the guys who work here would be in the business world at all unless they could work for something hip, something they didn't feel they were selling their souls for. They'd all be off on farms someplace, or smuggling dope back from Afghanistan. Think of all the great businessmen who would be lost to the world forever, if not for me."
Really, thought Valerie, this is a bit too much. But she smiled at Clifford, and his monologue continued.
"So the bread is the business world, and the butter is the hip community, and the dressing, the sauce, is the parties like this. We don't want everybody to think working for Triad Productions is just another ass job; we want it to be a great family, a way of life, a community effort. So we have parties and everybody drinks a lot and maybe screws a little, and then they feel better on Monday and they get more work done."
"Sometime," Clifford added. "I'm going to write this all up and send it to. Business Management magazine. I think they'd love it, don't you?"
"Yes, of course," answered Valerie, remembering that she'd originally come here to try to get her husband his promotion, and if that meant feeding his boss's ego, then that was just what she would have to do. But something else was nagging at the back of her mind and, taking a gulp of her coffee for bravity, she hesitantly asked Clifford the question that had been plaguing her mind.
"But I've been to other company parties and ... and nobody was...." She could not bring herself to say the word "screwing", and she searched her mind for a substitute. "I mean ... at the other parties Jordan and I went to, there was just dancing. Is this the first one with sex too?" Even as the young blonde spoke, she blushed with embarrassment at the naivete of her own words.
Clifford gave a deep and hearty belly laugh, and as-he laughed he sat down on the navy blue suede couch where Valerie half-lay, propped up on her elbows so that her breasts unconsciously jutted out against her tight-fitting silk evening blouse. "No, baby," he said. "It isn't the first one. I hope your feelings won't be too hurt to learn that it's the first one to which you've been invited, though. I mean, Jordan's really a great guy, and he's one of my best friends as well as being one of my best men, but I hope you don't mind my saying he's not really much of a swinger."
"But...." Valerie didn't know what to say. Was that why Cliff had asked her to this party? Because he thought that she was a "swinger"? The pretty wife had a suspicion that that was exactly the reason, and the suspicion grew stronger as she felt Cliff gently pull her head over to rest on his lap.
"Do you mean," she tried again, "that all the people downstairs make love to their wives at all your parties? I mean, all those special parties?"
Cliff laughed again. "For a chick from the west coast, you're really incredibly straight, baby. Maybe if you and Jordan would loosen up a bit, you'd have more fun out of life. First of all, almost none of those people downstairs are married, and if they are, they're sure not married to the people they're screwing. They're just fucking. Most of the chicks are secretaries for Triad, and of course none of them are married."
"But why not? What's wrong with being married?" Val sipped nervously at her coffee, feeling a little uncomfortable at being so very close to Clifford right now, lying across his lap, so that she could not help but notice the bulge of his penis inside his fashionably tight Levi's.
"Nothing wrong with being married, baby," Cliff answered, and as he spoke the licentious hippie businessman placed his hand on Valerie's shoulder and began to massage it gently with his fingertips. He felt her body tense up beneath his touch, but as she did not try to move away, he slowly worked his hand down around her ribs so that it was gently grazing against the side of her full, trembling breast.
"Nothing's wrong with it," he continued. "But I sure wouldn't hire a secretary who has an old man and kids at home. It makes things a little nicer for the guys at work, if there are a lot of good-looking chicks working the typewriters and telexes and bringing in the morning coffee. Just a psychological thing, having beautiful and available women around."
"Yes, but...." Val began, feeling a little stab of jealousy at the thought that maybe even Jordan was flirting with one of those good-looking girls downstairs, one of the girls who seemed so very loose about handing her favors about to every lewd businessman. "But what if one of them wants to get married? Or even go and live with somebody?"
"Then they quit work," Cliff answered casually. "Stay at home and cook, you know, or find something else to do. Triad Productions just wouldn't be the same with a lot of married women working there."
Somehow Valerie felt a little bit too confused by the way Cliff was stroking her back, even as he spoke, to carry on this argument any further. But there was one question burning in her mind that she just had to ask, no matter how inappropriate it might seem under the circumstances.
"But Jordan...." she began. "Jordan doesn't do anything like that, does he? I mean, with the secretaries?"
Clifford responded patiently, his mouth very close to Valerie's satin-smooth blonde hair. "I told you, Jordan is incredibly straight," he answered. "The girls flirt with him, but nothing ever happens. He's an old-fashioned husband."
Something about the way the young executive president said the words
'old-fashioned husband' made that quality sound like the most nauseating possible character trait. Val felt she had to defend her spouse, but she couldn't quite think of how to do so. It was quite true, she thought. Despite Jordan's strength and intelligence, he was straight. Maybe that was why she never had any fun anymore, a little voice inside her said, maybe that rather than just the fact of being in Milwaukee.
Another tiny voice inside Valerie's brain was warning her that this handsome company president was sitting much too close to her, but she felt so warm, sipping her coffee and being caressed, that she did not really want to pull away. No, it was not lewd, like what had been happening downstairs; it was simple and innocent. And anyway, it was nice to talk with a man again; Jordan was always so preoccupied with problems at work, or with reading something after dinner, that she felt no man had paid attention to her for ever so long. Ignoring the vague feeling of trepidation lurking in a comer of her mind, she leaned her head back with a wriggle of contentment against Clifford's hard-muscled thighs.
Valerie wanted to mention the word love, she wanted to mention the transfer to Santa Barbara that had been plaguing her mind, but somehow all of the things that had previously seemed to be so very real and vital and significant fell at the wayside. They would all sound silly, she knew, to this worldly young man, and in her mind they even sounded silly to her now, naive and childish. How could she mention something so romantic and old-fashioned as love to someone who was giving parties like the one downstairs? Valerie had not felt this un-worldly and innocent since she had been a freshman at Standford!
With a little murmur of contentment, Valerie surrendered a little, unconsciously pressing her warm young body closer against Clifford Helmann's. A strong shiver of lewd excitement shot through his loins as she did so, and he felt his aching penis grow stiff with desire for this obviously lonely and neglected young woman.
When Clifford spoke again, his voice had changed from its usual, overconfident and egocentric tone. He sounded quiet and gentle to the young woman who cuddled against his body. "Let's not talk about Jordan," he murmured. "Let's not think about any of the others. Let's just start being you and me."
As he spoke, Val realized that his hands were gently smoothing over the trembling mounds of her up-thrust breasts. The bewildered blonde felt tiny pricking arrows shooting all through her belly, flushing her loins again with unwanted desire, and she tried to pull away. In confusion, she closed her eyes, trying to deny what she knew only too well was happening to her flesh. The sensations invading her body were filled with powerful urgency, an urgency built of a week's loneliness and sexual repression, as well as many months of only marginal fulfillment.
Blushing with schoolgirl nervousness, she stared at Clifford's strong sunburned hands in the dimly-lit room, watching the gold rings flash as his fingers moved over her unmoving arm. A voice inside told her to pull away from him, but she was afraid of making the sophisticated man think she was just a silly, old-fashioned woman with overly straight ideas about love and marriage, a woman who could not know easy spontaneous pleasure. And yet ... she had never never done anything like this with another man in all her years of marriage to Jordan, and had never even considered it. It was not a question of being "straight"; it was simply a choice that had never come up.
Besides, thought the still-intoxicated woman dreamily, besides, his gently massaging hands feel so good, so wonderful. Nothing will happen, of course, but it feels so nice to be cuddled again. But Clifford's hands were no longer grazing over Valerie's arm with mere comfort and solace, but over fully ripened breasts with an animalistic intensity that even Valerie could not pretend did not exist. She told herself again that she had to make him stop before things went too far.
"P-please, Cliff," she murmured, trying not to seem prudish, but all the same not wanting anything to 'happen which she would only regret later. "I don't think this is the right thing to do. It-it's not fair to Jordan."
"What's wrong with it?" the red-haired executive whispered in a seductive manner, his mouth dangerously close to her ear, his heated breath causing goose bumps of excitement to break out all over Valerie's body. "What's wrong with my touching you? I know you want it, baby; you're only lying to yourself to say no, but you can't lie to me."
He's right, thought Valerie in dismay. I know he's right. I'm lonesome and I want to be loved, and Jordan isn't here, and even if he were, he never loves me anymore....
"What's wrong with me touching you?" repeated Clifford, not for a minute removing his hands from the unsure woman's softly trembling breasts. With practiced skill his fingers brushed teasingly across her nipples, and even through her thin blouse fabric he could feel the tiny pleasure-rich buds jump into erection beneath his touch.
Val's mind was whirling in indecision confused by knowing what her body wanted, and yet something holding her back, something she could not put a name on, but it was related to all the ideas and ideals she had ever had about love and marriage. Is it all prudery then, she thought dazedly. Maybe it is all lies and morality ... maybe I have listened too long to a voice that is not my own ... Clifford's hands are making me happy ... his touch is making me feel beautiful again....
Within a few seconds, the second stronger voice had entirely blocked out the first, and Valerie found herself raising her wide azure eyes to Clifford's determined face. His eyes glinting with lustfulness. he dropped his head and his hot lips descended to her open mouth, bruising her roughly, and sending hot flashes of electrical intensity throughout her traitorously eager young loins.
Prurient sensations shot wildly throughout Valerie's aroused body, so intense that she was shocked with astonishment. How long had it been since her husband had made her feel like this? Or was the violent, electrical passion only possible when there was an atmosphere of forbidden desire, locked doors, secret meetings? She did not know and had no time to consider the question, for the spontaneous sensation of the moment wiped all other thought from Valerie's twenty-eight year old mind! Never before had a kiss been like this his tongue pushed deep into her mouth, swirling hotly around her own tongue and across her teeth, and she tasted his saliva as it mingled with her own and sent delicious thrills throughout her loins.
"Noooooo ... noooooooo...." she moaned in a voice that only meant "yes". She felt disconnected with her mind, with her life up to this point, as though she were suddenly a new person, suddenly reborn, floating in a world above reality. She could feel the pressure of Clifford's long thick penis bulging up against the back of her neck as she lay with her head in his lap, and the very presence of it so close to her, yet still so far away from her hungering pussy, wildly excited the young wife.
And then Clifford's hands were dexterously unfastening the ties of Valerie's evening blouse, until her firm white breasts stood out, two enticing mounds of milk-white flesh against her suntanned midriff. Shaking with hungry anticipation, the aroused company president lowered his face to his employee's wife's voluptuous body and gently sucked her left nipple into his mouth.
"Oooooohhhhhh ... oh no, you mustn't...." whimpered Valerie, her body trembling at the unexpected warmth and wetness upon her exposed nipple. But her protest was stilled as Clifford's powerful hands reached out and cradled both melon-shaped mounds of her flesh, causing her to quiver in unwanted arousal. Humiliation mingled with guilt and desire on her face, as the conflicting emotions fought with each other. Valerie knew she must not go too far ... but how far was too far? And his hands were making her feel so good.
"Oh please," she murmured in renewed protest. "Oh please don't do it. I just can't stand it ... it feels too good!" Helplessly the voluptuous blonde groaned. But Clifford did not stop for an instant. His hands reached down to her long flouncing skirt that was already shamelessly worked up past her knees, and his fingers stroked upwards along the soft skin of her inner thigh.
What will Jordan think? asked Valerie's mind. What would Jordan think if he could see me now? Would he ever forgive me? But another voice rose up, saying that if Jordan ever even found out, he would deserve it, for ignoring her so many times when she had needed and wanted her husband's love-making, times when she had lain awake at night with him snoring gently beside her, unable to sleep because of the sensual fires flaming unsatisfied in her body.
But the guilty thoughts only filled the young wife with more ecstatic desire, and somehow the very secretive and illicit quality of what she was doing titillated her mind. She knew that she should not be here, that Clifford's insistent fingers on her trembling thighs should have stopped long ago, but this was somehow only all the more exciting.
With practiced gentleness, Cliff Helmann's outstretched middle finger rubbed slowly back and forth over the panty-covered lips of Valerie Douglas's cunt. His other hand moved erotically up over the flat plane of her belly until he reached her breasts. Once again he kneaded and squeezed the warm resilient mounds of flesh, and at the same time he inserted his middle finger in under the elastic crotch band of the blonde beauty's already moist sheer nylon panties.
A violent shudder racked Val's body as her husband's boss's probing finger nudged insistently against the sensitive flesh of her tingling vaginal lips. An involuntary moan of desire escaped from between her lips before she had a chance to stop it. Encouraged by her obvious arousal. Cliff began to twirl his finger in little circles, all around in her moistening cuntal flesh. Then his finger found her already-throbbing clitoris, and he massaged it until the young wife groaned with shamed pleasure.
"Oh Clifford," she cried out. "Oh, I know it's wrong, but I want you. I want you so much." Valerie felt shock at the sound of her own words, but as soon as they were out of her mouth it was too late to take them back. Besides, it was only too true her whole body was shaking with a wild sensual desire that she had not known for a long long time, and she felt that if this handsome man did not make love to her, she would go right out of her mind.
With hands that trembled in anticipation, the company president eased out from under Valerie on the couch and jerked down his zipper to free his swollen penis which had been beating an impatient tattoo against his fashionable blue jeans for the last ten minutes. In another second he jerked off his loose Indian shirt and slipped easily out of his pants and jockey shorts, pulled off his shoes and socks, and was massaging his rod of painfully throbbing male flesh with obscene jerking of his fingers as he leered down at his friend's wife.
In disoriented abandon, Valerie watched her own blouse and long skirt being removed from her body, as though she were watching someone else being stripped to the skin. She trembled in a combination of fright and desire, with only her sheer nylon bikini panties to protect her from Clifford's greedy eyes.
"Come on baby," he murmured. "Loosen up. It's good for you. Deftly he twisted his fingers under her flimsy little panties and slowly, teasingly, drew them down over the ripe flare of her hips and past the inviting juncture of her firm full thighs. Her sparse blonde pubic hair formed a tantalizing "vee" shaped mouth that held his eyes like a magnet, marking the warm wetness of her secret flesh that lay just below.
Now Valerie was moaning in a drunken half daze. I'm about to be an adulteress, she thought dizzily, and her early traditional training came rushing back to her ... her mother's words about girls who were tramps, sluts, whores. But even those reminders reversed on her to incite her unwilling imagination and arouse obscene feelings of sexual hunger in her body. If only Jordan had really fucked her last week before he left for Vancouver, she thought, she wouldn't be lying here now totally naked, trapped by her own obscene desires! It was all his fault!
Clifford was kissing her again, and without realizing it, Valerie was sucking voraciously on his tongue, drawing it deeper and deeper into her mouth, until he was smashing her wetly parted lips back tight against her teeth. Frantically she twisted and squirmed her body, trembling with desire, scared because the only things that truly mattered now were the intense sexual fires which had been ignited in her warmly palpitating breasts and vagina, and that were now building past the point of control. Everything else was unimportant ... the people downstairs ... her husband Jordan ... her parents' morality! These were only things people talked about, mere words, and now she knew she was dealing with reality!
Valerie could feel the lewd physical sensations spelling the word ecstasy, as they rippled powerfully through her helpless body, tingling outward from her throbbing pussy lips to consume her very soul. Every fiber and nerve of her flesh that had been denied sensual satisfaction for so long was pulsing with desire. She could feel her aroused nipples digging into his grasping palms, as Clifford fondled and massaged her painfully full breasts.
"Yes ... , " she whimpered, unaware even of her own desire-tense voice. "Yes. I don't care. I want you ... I want you."
"Don't worry, baby," answered the red-haired man bending over her. "I'm not going to leave. I'll fuck you 'till you beg me to stop."
Somehow the very lewdness of these words only served to further excite the gasping young blonde. She stared up. in fascination at Clifford, as His hand gripped his thickly distended penis and, obscenely pulled back the loose fold of foreskin to reveal the blood-engorged head. A clear drop of male seminal fluid appeared in the tiny slit at the blunt tip-end, and suddenly Valerie realized that her moment of irrevocable infidelity was fast approaching.
He was going to fuck her. There was no stopping it, and Valerie knew that if there were a way of stopping it, she would not want to stop, not now. The devils in her belly were dancing at the mere thought of a big beautiful cock fucking hard and hot up between her legs, fucking her until she came!
"Spread your legs," came Clifford's command, his voice gentle but compelling.
She immediately obeyed. Every last bit of resistance was submerged as the growing need for orgasm overpowered her. She lay unresisting as her husband's employer drew her swaying thighs apart, then shivered with unexpected delight as his tongue lowered to give a maddening lick at the moist pink crevice of her pussy.
Clifford did not wait any longer. He crawled between her widespread lithe limbs, pressing her thighs apart till her knees hit the sides of the suede couch. Grasping his achingly thick penis in one hand, he guided it without a moment's delay to the tiny glistening mouth of her pussy. Groaning in released desire, he suddenly thrust his powerful hips forward until his heavy penis slithered deep into her hungrily quivering little cunt.
"Oh God, oh God. oh God!" gasped the young blonde wife in sexual delirium as she lay helplessly subjugated beneath his naked body. She could feel his thick up-thrusting cock bringing a warm magic to her love-hungry vagina, and sending wave after wave of forbidden adulterous pleasure surging through her unfaithful flesh. She could even feel the clasping walls of her cunt being gloriously stretched, at the moment this man's cock felt like the most gigantic, hot, throbbing penis in the entire world. She could feel her inside vaginal muscles stretching and pulling to embrace all the more tightly its pulsating thickness. Her tight little belly had never felt so filled in all her life!
"Yesssss," she gasped, as he plowed his long rod of male flesh into her wetly welcoming vagina, pressing great waves of her clinging pussy flesh in ripples of erotic pleasure before it.
This was what she had wanted for ever so long, her every forbidden wish seemed to be coming true! Her belly quaked and throbbed convulsively as the smooth-pistoning shaft thrust headlong up into her belly again and again. Her mind whirled in useless efforts to reason out the lewd effects of his hot virile hardness filling her, crushing pleasureably her inner organs as it dug even deeper and deeper. She was being fucked as her husband had never fucked her, and the knowledge of it sent her mind into a maddened delirium.
God! she thought. It felt as though his penis would burst into her throat if he did not stop driving so hard! He was tearing all her inhibitions from her body with each mighty stroke, destroying them as he flexed the hotly bulging head of his cock, ravaging every last bit of her with depraved sensuality. Her former self was leaving her, and what remained in its stead was nothing but her lover's wildly skewering cock in her hot sucking cuntal depths, filling her with a wild, intense new ecstasy.
The lips of Valerie's pussy clasped like a strong fleshy fist at the thick shaft pistoning in and out of her tight vaginal orifice in lustful urgent motions. Clifford looked down to see his own rigid penis pull nearly out of her hair-rimmed hole, shining with her cuntal secretions, then disappear again into the moist pink opening as he skillfully rammed forward again and again.
Suddenly, Valerie knew she was going to explode into her orgasm. It was there, just beyond her reach, still teasing, forever tantalizing her!
Just a little more, she silently begged. Oh God, just a little more and I'll go right over the edge!
Immeasurable ecstasy began to flood through her tautly rippling belly and thighs, and she began fucking in unison with Clifford's every stroke, all conscious thought and feeling centering now on the fantastic churning sensations deep within her shamefully aroused loins. God ... she had never in all her life been quite this turned on!
Then she realized that Cliff's suddenly burgeoning cock up inside her belly was about to explode, too. The very thought excited her to a feverish pitch of desire and her motions became more frantic. His slamming thrusts into her quivering pussy were almost brutal in their intensity now. Wilder and wilder he became, tossing her nakedly writhing body beneath him without consideration in his own obscene race toward climax.
And then she began to cum ... feeling her belly exploding with the force of long pent-up lust. "Oh!" she cried out. "Ohhhhhhh! Aaahhhhhhh! I'm cummmmmiiiiinnnnnggg! " Almost unendingly the raw feelings of ecstasy rippled and cascaded within her spasming body. "Fuck me," she cried. "Oh Cliff, oh fuck me ... fuck me!"
Clifford Helmann buried his madly jerking penis as deep as he possibly could into the wet velvety heat of her shuddering pussy, and as he did so he felt his cock expanding to even greater dimensions. He had held back as long as he could, but now he gave a last pounding thrust that sank right up to the pelvis of the madly convulsing blonde. And his sperm flooded out. gushing forth in a white-hot steaming burst that totally filled Valerie's belly with its illicit wet heat. Over and over his rapidly firing cock shot its life-giving load of cum into her greedy womb before it was finished and Cliff fell forward on top of the still-trembling woman.
Oh, Valerie's mind screamed. Oh God, it's so wonderful, so fantastic, why does it have to end now?
And as they lay collapsed in exhaustion, she knew that it didn't have to end, not that night, and not ever, if she didn't want it to. She felt Clifford's hands caressing her naked hip as his now-useless penis slipped from between her still-pulsing vaginal lips.
"Oh Cliff," she mumbled. "Oh I could fuck all night."
The young executive laughed quietly. "We will, baby," he answered. "Remember what I told you? Until you beg me to stop."
CHAPTER FIVE
Jordan Douglas stared blankly in front of him, sitting at his desk in the small cubbyhole of his office at Triad Productions. In front of him were large blank sheets of paper and all around his desk were angry balls of crumpled paper that had failed to please him. He did not want to draw today. He did not want to do anything, except perhaps sit listlessly with his head in his hands and nurse his hangover.
Shit, thought the young manager of the Project Department. What a drag. Ever since he had come back from Vancouver that weekend, everything had gone wrong. He felt as though his life were at a bleak and bitter standstill.
Without even putting one line on it, he crumpled up still another piece of paper and threw it ferociously at the wastebasket which the janitor always replaced at a most inconvenient distance from his desk.
His gaze turned from his desk, to the open window, where he could just barely see a bit of Lake Michigan, along with a jumble of equally hideous buildings, parking lots, and downtown Milwaukee streets. The thought of simply taking off that day, maybe going down to the beach and doing nothing, letting the hot sun burn his hangover out of his body, lingered in his mind. But then Clifford had been acting so weird since he returned that he hardly wanted to ask the guy for favors of any sort.
And now not only was the president being odd, but Jordan's own wife Valerie had somehow changed. Nothing outward of course if anything at all she seemed happier when he returned from Vancouver than she had when he left for his business trip. Was that why he was upset? he thought. Because his wife hadn't missed him? That would certainly be a selfish, childish reason, he told himself, but still there was something. The way she walked about the house, smiling to herself like a cat who had just swallowed a canary.
And when he had told her about how he felt the transfer to Santa Barbara was really in the air, she had breezily waved it off. "Well, it doesn't really matter so much," she'd answered. "I guess we can be just as happy here as anyplace else. After all, it's what you make of a place that's important, not where it is."
Jordan could admire her sentiment, but after so many years of missing the west coast, her statement rather took the wind out of his sails. He'd felt impotent, his fine words and promises carelessly rejected. He'd drunk far too much that night, because of it, and now was cursed with a raging hangover this morning.
"What a drag," he said, half out loud. "What a fucking drag." But he did not realize that he'd spoken the words out loud until the door of his office opened, and one of the secretaries, Sabina Saanen, was walking silently across the carpeted floor toward him. She carried a wooden tray bearing coffee cups, a pot, cream and sugar. Her long brown hair was plaited around her head, like a Swiss-German girl in a story book, and she wore an embroidered peasant blouse, her breasts swelling provocatively up above its revealing neckline.
"Jordan, you look so tired!" exclaimed Sabina. She poured him a cup of coffee, putting in a half teaspoon of sugar, and handing it to him.
"I'm okay," he answered, smiling at the young girl's compassionate concern. "Things were just a little hectic in Vancouver."
Why doesn't Valerie ever remember how I like my coffee? he thought. This girl has only been here two months, and she does it perfectly, and Val can't remember after six years!
"I came in to tell you that Clifford wants to see you in his office," continued Sabina. "In about half an hour, he said." The young girl looked at Jordan with her big brown eyes. "Can't I bring you anything else, Jordan?" she asked. "Some aspirin, maybe? Or orange juice?"
"No, it's all right," he answered, still feeling a little embarrassed at the knowledge that she'd heard him voicing his dissatisfaction just a few minutes earlier.
"Okay. Have a good day." She turned and walked out, swinging her ripe, curvaceous body as she went.
* * *
By the time Jordan found himself in Clifford's ostentatiously furnished and carpeted president's office, he felt even more irritable and depressed. The half-hour wait a subtle reminder of the difference in their positions, he thought defensively-had only made him the more nervous and unhappy.
Clifford eyed his Project Department manager shrewdly. Ever since Jordan had returned from Vancouver, his superior had sensed that something was wrong, and hoped that it was not something with Jordan's marriage, although he suspected that it was just that very thing.
"Listen," said Clifford, trying to sound tactful. "You've been having problems at home, haven't you?"
"What do you mean?" asked Jordan defensively. "Did Valerie say something?"
"Well," Cliff answered. "Not in so many words. But I can see that your work is suffering, and since your return, you just haven't seemed like your old self."
None of your fucking business, thought Jordan to himself. "I'm all right," he answered out loud, "and Val's all right too."
"I know you think it's none of my goddamn business," continued Clifford, "but you just don't have the enthusiasm you used to have. Listen, man, that report on your trip to Vancouver just wasn't up to your usual style of work. I like you being here, and you're one of my best men, but...."
"Yeah, I know," said Jordan. "I just don't know what's wrong."
Clifford, who knew only too well what was wrong, smiled jovially and patted Jordan on the back. "Jet lag, probably," he said. "Take the afternoon off and go sailing. Or ... why don't we all take the afternoon off and go play tennis? Val can play, can't she?"
"Sure," answered Jordan, relieved that the conversation was almost over. "She's much better than I am, in fact. Who can we get for a fourth?"
"Oh, I'll ask one of the chicks here," Clifford answered airily. "I'll see you at the courts at two, then." Both men stood up with relief, glad that the formal atmosphere of the interview was over.
CHAPTER SIX
"Tennis?" came Valerie's slightly faraway sounding voice on the other end of the telephone. "Sure ... I mean, great. With WHOM?. Oh. Oh, sure ... No, why should anything be wrong, dear? I'll take my bike so you don't have to pick me up. Okay, two o'clock. See you then, dear."
How strange, thought the young blonde wife as she hung up the telephone. How strange that Clifford was wanting her to play tennis with them. Of course, ideally, it should not seem strange at all. Clifford and Jordan were friends, and Jordan was her husband. Only her own unvoiced, secret guilt about what had happened Saturday night with Clifford made her feel strange and wary about the prospect of seeing the two men in her life together.
Still, after her husband had returned nearly three days ago, Valerie had not had the courage to tell him what had happened, and more and more she was realizing that she would never tell him. Her own guilt feelings were enough, she rationalized, without jeopardizing her marriage as well. And in the ensuing three days, they had not talked much at all, each remaining vague and distant with the other. They had maneuvered neutrally around each other, being careful not to fight, but not having much to say to each other either. It was like many days they had spent after arguments, except that now Valerie was trying to look at the situation with open eyes. Once or twice, she had even wondered what it would be like if she left her husband. Perhaps, she had begun to think, it was more the fact of being a married woman rapidly becoming bourgeois despite her best efforts, than it was the fact that they happened to live in the middle west.
When Jordan had mentioned Santa Barbara, she had hardly been able to even feel a spark of interest. Instead, all of her energy had been concentrating on solving her own problems as a person on deciding what she must do, how she must live. Santa Barbara seemed an easy, facile solution, and her former self who had wanted it so much now seemed merely a child she had once known.
If only she could have talked to Jordan about it. If only she could have said, "Jordan, I slept with another man, and now suddenly I'm all confused inside. All the things I thought I believed in just don't hold up anymore. Nothing seems real ... nothing seems true. Do you understand?"
But Jordan seemed to be the last person to whom she could voice these feelings, and as the days went by, she realized there was less and less which she actually could talk about to her handsome husband. They continued to do the usual things to have breakfast and dinner and drink wine and smoke marijuana and discuss the trivial events which happened to enter their minds, but there was a deep inner tension between the two of them which neither could deny.
They did not make love.
Sighing sharply, Valerie Douglas returned the blue telephone receiver to its cradle and walked through the living room into the bedroom which she and Jordan shared, trying to decide which of her tennis dresses to wear.
* * *
It was hot and sunny at the Town and Country Tennis Club. Valerie Douglas rode up on her bicycle and locked it to the chain-link fence. She waved brightly at the regular players, smiling gaily to confirm her image of the happy young wife, and looked anxiously around for her husband and his boss.
Within a few minutes, they drove up in Clifford's red Alfa Romeo, and Valerie watched with a little start of surprise as not only her husband and the man who had been her lover on that momentous evening last week, but also a buxom young woman wearing her rich dark hair in braids wound around her head, got out of the two-seater car. For an instant, Val felt a flash of jealousy, thinking of how close the girl must have been sitting to Jordan ... and to Clifford. Was this one of the secretaries that Clifford had mentioned, she wondered, one of the secretaries hired for their looks and their loose attitudes toward sex?
Within a few minutes she had her answer. Jordan walked up to his wife, saying, "Hey, love, I'm glad you wanted to play today. This is Sabina Saanen, one of the secretaries. Sabina, my wife Valerie. And of course Clifford."
Everyone smiled and laughed, even Valerie, who felt her smile wooden, pasted upon her mouth.
However, as soon as they had begun to seriously play at doubles tennis, Valerie forgot her fears and nervousness. Four years of being a housewife in Milwaukee had certainly improved her tennis game, which had been excellent even in college, and soon her worries and emotions were lost in the physical delight of exercise. She and Jordan easily beat Clifford Helmann and his company secretary, and the young blonde housewife felt a wave of delight as they did so.
The next game began and they changed partners, so that Valerie was playing with Clifford, and the young girl Sabina was with Jordan. Valerie played furiously, expertly, eager to beat her husband in this one small way. But then, just as she called out "Fifteen Love", Jordan held up his hand and stumbled off the court.
Val followed him, her lithe body swaying angrily under her short tennis outfit. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"It's my knee," he replied. "You and Cliff keep on playing, but I'm going to. quit. It just hurts too much."
"You two go have a drink then," commanded Clifford, "and Val and I will play a few more games. Okay, Val?"
"Oh," said Valerie Douglas. "Oh, okay, sure." And she tried to concentrate her hardest on beating her husband's boss at tennis, while Jordan and the company secretary sauntered off across the green field toward the clubhouse.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jordan Douglas had suffered from pains in his knee ever since an accident when he was playing football at Stanford. Sometimes it started hurting when he was skiing, or when he climbed too many stairs, or as this afternoon when he played tennis. This time it was not terribly bad, just a dull throb, but enough of a throb to give him an honest excuse to leave the strange, electrically charged atmosphere which he always seemed to feel around his wife these days ... and around his boss too.
It was with few regrets for the joys of playing tennis that he and the young secretary, Sabina Saanen, walked away from the court. She looked up at him with gentleness and compassion in her large, limpid, doe-like eyes.
"I'm so sorry about your knee, Jordan," she said, her voice smooth and warm. "It must be dreadful to be in pain all the time."
"Oh," he replied, "it really isn't all that bad. Just a little accident I had when I was younger." He smiled down at the young girl, his gaze unconsciously coming to rest at the juncture of her full womanly breasts, where the cleavage pushed the milky white mounds proudly above the low neck of her tennis dress. "And it feels a lot better when you're beside me," he added, jokingly.
"Does it?" she asked with a calm smile. "Maybe instead of having a drink at the club we could just go alone someplace. Would you like that?"
What was this girl saying to him, thought Jordan Douglas. Shit, she couldn't be more than eighteen years old! It must be only his mind, he told himself, but the message he read in the deep pools of Sabina's brown eyes was obvious, a message any man could understand.
"Sure," he answered. "I don't really feel like a drink right now anyway."
"I've got some bread and cheese in the back of the Alfa Romeo," Sabina responded. "And I think there's some beer in the trunk as well. We could go underneath the elm trees down by the creek, and you can rest your knee."
"Sounds great," answered Jordan, following the girl over to their boss's little red car, his eyes locked on Sabina's firmly rounded hips, swaying in easy female suggestiveness as she moved.
Underneath the elm trees it was completely silent, except for the occasional calls of "Fore" coming from the golf course on the other side of the creek, and the gentle lapping of water against the big, weather-beaten rocks which lined the bank of the little stream. Once again. Jordan found himself thinking how grateful he was to be away from the office in the middle of the city in the middle of the day, and also a little guiltily how grateful he was to be away from his wife.
Deftly, the buxom brunette opened bottles of beer and carved slices of dark German-type bread, which she lay on a big checked napkin along with sausages and some of Wisconsin's famous cheeses. Jordan took a long swallow of the warm Budweiser which Sabina handed to him. "Yeah," he murmured gratefully. "That's just what I needed."
She met his eyes squarely. "The beer, Jordan, or to get away, you mean?"
"Both."
Sabina took a beer for herself and came over to stretch out beside him on the grassy bank. In spite of all his good intentions, the young husband, who had felt himself seething with sexual frustration the past few days, was unable to keep his eyes off her. There was something about the way her moist pink lips ovaled around the beer bottle rim ... something about it that reminded him of something else, of a woman sucking a man's long hard penis. He tried to push the lewd vision out of his mind. Damn it, he told himself, she's just a little girl, and you're a married man. But there was something about her every gesture, whether it be drinking the beer, or even moving one of her arms or legs, that bespoke a sensuality beyond words to the young husband. He realized that his own cock was beginning to throb and thicken beneath his tennis shorts as he lay there thinking lewd thoughts in the hot summer sunshine.
"What is it?" asked the young girl, interrupting Jordan's reverie.
"Uh ... what? What is what?" he asked.
She laughed, a clear and musical note. "You look so far away. Jordan. What's wrong? Aren't you happy? It isn't just your knee, is it?"
Then Jordan blushed with embarrassment as the well-developed young secretary reached a cool hand out to stroke his hot forehead. "Just relax," she whispered. "No one's here but you and me.
Shit! thought the thirty year old designer. II can't be only my mind! No man could be around a sexy little broad like that and not want to fuck her ... and it doesn't look like it would be too hard to do it either!
Jordan stole a look at the girl who lay calmly on the grass, sipping at her beer and playfully tying some wild flowers together to make a chain. Her breasts pushed up firmly against her low-cut blouse, and yet she looked so innocent : ... innocent and damn provocative, he thought. I'd like to suck those breasts until she screams for me to screw her.
At this' lewd thought, Jordan could feel his cock swelling under his tennis shorts to an embarrassing bulge which he hoped his secretary wouldn't notice. And in his nervousness he gulped the beer down more quickly than he normally would. At last, Jordan glanced down at his wristwatch. "Don't you think we'd better start heading back?" he asked, not wanting to, but feeling as though he ought to at least make an effort.
"Oh, no." Sabina replied. "I know when Clifford gets going at tennis, he plays practically all afternoon. And your wife seems like a very good tennis partner for him." She smiled provocatively up at the handsome junior executive. "Let's rest a little longer," she urged. "I'll get you another beer." She jumped up gracefully from where she had been sitting, and took another bottle of Budweiser from her large woven bag. "Here you go, Jordan," she said, her hand lingering on his a little longer than was necessary as she held out the moist bottle to him. "Just relax, okay?"
"Okay." He knew that this seductive little girl was teasing him; he knew that he was playing with fire, with his wife right on the other side of the club. But why should I resist? he thought. I love Valerie, but she's been so uptight lately ... and I need to have a little fun sometimes.
"Don't be in such a hurry, Jordan, to get away from me," murmured the buxom brunette girl. "I never get to talk to you in the office, because you're always so busy, and I've wanted to get to know you."
Jordan flushed at the open invitation in the young girl's voice, and at the directly seductive look in her deep brown eyes. Even though he had been having the exact same thoughts, he felt embarrassed by any girl being so obviously ready ... and yet this very willingness on Sabina's part also excited him in a tremendously erotic way which he had never before experienced.
And then Jordan jerked as though he had just received an electrical shock, as he felt Sabina's gentle fingers on his muscular thigh. "It's all right," she whispered huskily, stroking below his tennis shorts. "It's all right here. There's no one but the two of us."
Jordan stiffened as he felt her trace a light teasing pattern along his hairy thigh. Then he shuddered a little as her slender fingers lightly traversed his sun-warmed flesh until they reached the large swell in his straining tennis shorts. The soft feel of Sabina's hand on his sensitive swollen penis caused it to expand into full blood-hardened erection at his crotch.
I've got to tell her to stop, he thought. What would Valerie say?
But then his resistance melted as the full pliant mounds of Sabina's womanly breasts pressed insistently against his face. Then her lips were touching his face, her breath sweet and fragrant in his nostrils, and her moist little tongue prodded urgently into his mouth.
"Oh God, Sabina, stop!" he choked out breathlessly, pulling away from her. "We can't do this!"
"Why not?" she asked with wide-eyed innocence. "Why shouldn't we hold each other? I've wanted you to do this to me ever since I came to work at Triad Productions!"
"Of course I want to," he groaned, his penis throbbing in readiness. "But my wife ... she'll wonder where I am!"
"I don't think you should wonder too much about your wife," said Sabina smoothly. "I'm sure Clifford can take good care of her."
"Yeah," he said, wondering just what it was that the buxom secretary meant. And then he didn't care, couldn't care less what Valerie or anyone else did or thought. Why shouldn't he lie on the grass on a beautiful summer day with this delectable young brunette? And if Val was being such a bitch, what did she expect him to do about it?
"Oh, Sabina!" he murmured hoarsely. "Yeah, baby, I want you too!" And he grasped her teasing tongue between his hungry lips and sucked its pointed red tip deep inside his mouth, at the same time running his hands in urgent excitation over the roundly straining mounds of her breasts.
"Uuuuuum," whimpered Sabina, her sensuous flesh starting to tingle in anticipation at the fervor with which her boss was kissing her. Ever since Clifford Helmann had first suggested the plan that she seduce Jordan and try to make the pressured Project Department manager relax, she had eagerly awaited her opportunity. She wriggled against him now, pressing one of her firm-fleshed thighs against the bulging hardness inside his tennis shorts. "Ummmmmmm, it feels so big and nice," she cooed appreciatively. "I want to see it."
All the blood in Jordan's lust-incited body rushed to his brain at those obscenely daring words. He simply couldn't believe this was happening to him, right here on the grass at the tennis club, that it was not just a wonderful dream. But no ... it was reality, true physical reality, as he felt her fingers fumbling with his tennis shorts and his polo shirt, until he felt the exquisite release of his swollen cock from the painful confines of the garments. And before he knew it, she too had slipped out of her embroidered blouse and short white skirt. Her whole body was quivering nakedly before him. her thighs pressed tightly together in an agony of desire.
Flames of lust began to fan through all the nerve-endings of Jordan's passion-fevered body, and he heard his own voice as though it belonged to a stranger, moaning out the name of this exotic young girl.
"Sabina, Sabina ... oh God, Sabina!" Sabina's soft lips were moving in a moist and sensuous path away from his mouth to trail down over his cheeks, throat, chest and belly. "Your cock is so nice and thick." he heard her murmur, as she moved gracefully to kneel between her new lover's muscular thighs.
Oh God! the lust-incited young executive thought. Oh baby, you don't know how badly I've been wanting just this!
"Yes," he groaned out loud in passion ecstasy, as he felt her warm tongue flicking in a tentative teasing motion over his pulsating cock-head. "Yes, baby, yes."
Opening his eyes, Jordan saw the unbelievably erotic sight of Sabina's naked body crouched down between his legs, with the tip of her pink tongue licking hungrily at his rigid stiffness. Her clear doe-like eyes were riveted to the thick rod of lust-engorged male flesh that rose up from his loins, and he knew that she was at least as eager for this as he was. Moaning in anticipation, the young husband watched the brunette's sensually languorous movements, watched her tongue-tip grazing in a titillating circle around his blood-engorged glans.
"Oh Jordan, you taste so good," she whispered, sweeping her tongue down the full length of his jerking virility. Then she swirled around the base and darted down to lap at the soft sac of his sperm-filled testicles. Sabina loved sucking a hard male penis, loved it just as much as she liked feeling it stuffed up inside her narrow young pussy, and it was especially nice when she knew it was making someone happy who obviously needed it so badly. Already her boss was trembling and groaning under her lewd oral ministrations, and she hadn't even really started!
"Aaaaaaarrrggghhh," Jordan grunted in incoherent bliss as he felt the young woman's snake-like tongue sliding with tantalizingly slow strokes back up the length of his fully extended member. A shiver of illicit pleasure shot up and down his spine, and then a violent shudder shook his entire body as he felt Sabina's moistened lips oval around his aching cock-head and suck it deep into the heated cavern of her mouth.
It was so long since he'd felt this indescribably wonderful sensation, he thought, much, much longer than he even cared to remember. Why couldn't Val ever suck at his cock in this tender and loving way? he wondered. When she did it at all it was as though she wanted to get an unpleasant task over with in the shortest time possible, and he felt guilty when he even suggested it. But then Jordan pushed all thoughts of his wife and marriage far back from his conscious mind. That didn't matter now ... nothing mattered at all except for the wicked sensations of lust which coursed through the young businessman's sex-starved loins as Sabina's skillful tongue began to massage the tiny glans opening, at the same time pressuring around his rod of pulsating flesh with her soft inner cheeks.
For a few more moments, the sensuous secretary continued to dab at the little opening of her new lover's lengthy penis, her own desire rising as she tasted the tangy drop of pre-climax moisture balanced in the tiny end slit. She dropped one hand down to caress the soft skin of his dangling testicles and then the base of his long, erotically tingling cock. The blazing sun and the gentle lapping of the creek beside them intensified the exciting thrill of feeling a man writhe and shudder beneath her mouth. Sabina felt a desire to have him inside her, but she pushed it away, since her boss Clifford had expressly told her that what Jordan was in need of was her oral ministrations. There's plenty of time for everything else later on, she thought contentedly, clamping her perspiring thighs close together and rubbing one against the other to stimulate her quivering clitoris.
"Suck me," Jordan was murmuring in a delirium of lust. "Suck me, baby!" His hands tangled in Sabina's plaited hair, his fingers tightening around her slender neck.
"Yes," she answered huskily. "Don't worry, lover." Her voice was muffled, her head thrust deep between his thighs, her tongue lapping around his pulsating scrotum. With one hand she reached to pump up and down on his turgid cock-shaft and tease again at the blunt hard head of his penis. Then she ran her stiffened tongue-tip up along the quivering sperm ridge on the underside of his penis before sinking her lips hotly around him once more.
Above her, the lust-maddened young man gaped in astonishment at her obscenely moving body. Sabina's pretty face was contorted in a mask of passion, her cheeks puffed out from the effort of sucking his erected cock. Beads of perspiration clung to her forehead, and ran down between her swaying milk-white breasts.
Jordan could barely believe his eyes as he watched the brunette's glistening pink lips sucking up and down his desire-hardened cock. He couldn't imagine how she even managed to take the whole thing into her tiny mouth, but she was surely doing just that, her head bobbing madly up and down his distended penis. Blinding flashes of heat began to swirl in his brain, and he felt as though every muscle in his body was stretched taut and ready to explode. His shuddering hands grabbed hold of her tightly, drawing her laboring mouth even closer to his aching loins as he felt the first churnings of heated sperm begin to gather momentum within his drum-tight testicles in preparation for the violent rush up the length of his thrusting rigidity.
A part of Jordan's mind wanted to slay in this obscenely delightful position forever, wanted never to end this spectacle of the beautiful young company secretary slaving over his adulterously throbbing weapon. The pleasure of anticipation was so exquisite he wanted it to never cease, and he tried to hold back his orgasm for as long as possible. But it was an effort in vain. His long-denied body was obeying its own commands, and there was nothing he could do to effectively restrain it. A stream of guttural moans issued from between his gasping lips, and he closed his eyes, everything fading from his mind except his urgently physical desire to flood the beautiful girl's hotly clasping mouth with burning streams of his lust-heated semen.
The eagerly sucking young girl could tell that her new lover beneath her was about to reach his pinnacle of orgasm, and she ground her own quivering legs harder together so that she could reach a climax simultaneously. The hard rod of undulating male flesh in her straining mouth reached even larger dimensions, until it was all she could do to keep from choking as she continued to suck and lick at its turgid thickness, caressing its pulsating smoothness with her prodding tongue and nibbling teeth. Just as she felt her own orgasm beginning to surge up from deep in her cock-denied belly, she heard an anguished cry tear from the throat of the dark-haired married man beneath her, and she felt his penis grow still more rigid beneath her tightly enclosing lips.
"AAAAARRRRRGGGHHHH!!! " cried out Jordan Douglas, heedless of the distant golfers and tennis players who might hear. "Oh baby ... sweet baby ... suck me! Oh, I'm cuuummming!"
Thick spurts of pent-up semen shot free from his lust-bloated balls to rumble up along the rigid tube of his wildly gyrating hardness. Just seconds later, hot spurts of thick, viscous sperm splashed into Sabina Saanen's desperately gulping mouth, spurt after spurt violently shooting down her throat. Her lips clasped greedily around Jordan's spasming hardness, and her pressuring cheeks and tongue massaged it as she attempted to swallow every drop of the seemingly unending flow of long-accumulated semen. Even as the fires of his orgasm began to fade away, even when his cock had been milked of every adulterous drop, the satiated man could still feel the eager secretary's soft, cum-drenched mouth clinging to his deflating member.
His brain whirling dizzily, Jordan fell back in a swoon on the grass. "Oh baby ... oh Sabina...." he gasped. But no more words would come, and instead he pulled her sun-warmed sensuous body up next to his own. Her quivering breasts pressed roundly against his chest and their mouths met in a long and passionate kiss. Her tongue prodded in between his lips and Jordan tasted the pungent flavor of his own sperm. And then, in satiated exhaustion, they collapsed in each other's arms, in unconscious half-sleep, his head cradled on her naked breasts.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"If Jordan and Sabina aren't in the clubhouse, where could they be then, Clifford?" Valerie asked the redheaded man, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice. After a hard afternoon of tennis, in which she had managed to consistently beat her husband's boss, the blonde wife had assumed that her husband would be ready and eager to leave. The heat of the day had already passed, and it would soon be time for her to start thinking about what to fix for dinner.
Clifford smiled confidently down at the young woman who had been his lover the last weekend. "I'm sure they're around somewhere, Val. Don't get so uptight about it. Don't you ever let your husband go off on his own?"
"Oh, sure," she answered. "But ... but." Her suspicions sounded too silly to voice to this worldly man, especially after what had happened between them, which she was trying to simply forget, and hoped he would forget as well. So far, her husband's boss had shown not one sign that she had ever behaved in less than a lady-like fashion toward him, and Valerie was grateful for at least this.
"I just know there's something wrong," she finally added. "I can't tell you how I know, but I just do!"
"Oh, you females with your damn intuition," laughed Clifford, but he actually felt quite impressed by her sort of sixth sense. He wasn't going to tell her that of course. He wanted her to see with her very own eyes how right she was about what her husband was doing, and then maybe the Douglases would both loosen up a little. Of this last, the company president was confident.
Cliff put his arm casually around the worried blonde woman's shoulder. "Let's have another drink here at the bar, and then if they haven't turned up, we'll go out on a search party," he said lightly. And then he caused Valerie to blush furiously by adding, "After all, it looks like maybe Jordan should be the one who's wondering about what you're doing, and not the other way around."
Valerie sipped her tall glass of mint julep without comment, and hoped her companion would attribute the sudden reddening of her face to a sunburn.
"Well, I don't know," she said, trying to sound casual. "After what you said about the company secretaries...." But a persistent little voice inside her was saying: What about what you did last week? What about that funny feeling right now just because he's touching your arm?
Clifford's expression grew serious. "Isn't anything that makes you feel happy a good thing, a healthy thing? We don't want to hurt each other, but if you set your rules too strictly, you're bound to cause wounds. Maybe if you relaxed a little, Val, you'd get more fun out of life."
There it was again, she thought. Why was he always lecturing her? She knew he was right, or at least his words sounded right when he said them. And yet....
"I really think we'd better go find them now," Valerie said formally, taking a last swallow of her drink, 'it's late and I want to go home." The slim blonde wife climbed down from the bar stool and waited by the door as Clifford paid for the drinks, put his Tunisian hat back on his head, and sauntered out after her.
They walked across the green expanse of lawn, past the swimming pool, and down to Butterfield Creek. Now that the sun had lost its intensity, the air had taken on a brisk chill feeling, and a cool breeze blew in from Lake Michigan. Valerie shivered in spite of herself, frightened by her unvoiced thoughts.
"Cold, baby?" Clifford asked, putting his arm around his shoulders and pulling her close to his lean, strong chest. He could feel her soft breasts quivering against him like a frightened bird, and for a moment he was sorry for the young woman. What she was about to see would surely be one of the big shocks in her life!
Then, as his excitedly stiffening cock lurched against the tight fabric of his jeans at the thought of what he hoped was to come, he reminded himself that things would surely all work out for the best. Valerie would be hurt at first, but he knew she would then have to face up to the reality of her own desires. And then the two couples would not have to keep lying to each other and playing silly games. Of course, he thought, the Douglases, like everyone else, will be grateful to Triad Productions for helping to make their marriage more interesting, and freeing them from the puritanical hang-ups which they would be so quick to deny that they still harboured.
"Cold?" the scheming young executive repeated, pulling her unresponsive body closer to his own. "We'll walk down to the elm trees, and if we don't find them, I'll take you home in the Alfa Romeo, okay? Jordan can take your bicycle."
"Okay," she answered, feeling a little silly to be making such a fuss about what would undoubtedly prove to be nothing. They walked on. and just as Valerie was at the point of turning back, and going home to irritably await her husband, she heard a sound that made her freeze in horror, grabbing onto Clifford's arm.
"Oh yes, baby, like that. Oh, suck my pussy like I sucked your big hard cock!"
No, thought Valerie in horror. No, it can't be! It must be someone else!
"Oh baby, you're so soft and beautiful! You taste like honey and flowers," answered a man's excited voice.
There was no question about it. It was Jordan! Oh my God! Jordan was just around the bend in the creek with that awful girl, and he was kissing her vagina!
"Nooooo!" gasped the shocked young wife, her mouth falling open in horror and her entire body recoiling with a convulsive shudder. "No, no, no!"
Her own husband was lying there! It was Jordan doing something with that company secretary, just as she'd expected! Only the steadying pressure of Clifford's strong arm around her shoulders kept Valerie standing erect.
"No!" she hissed loudly to Clifford. "No! Make them stop! I'll kill that little bitch! Oh God, it's just too awful!"
The handsome young man stared back at her. Already the sky was darkening, but he could see the tears forming in her limpid blue eyes. "Why, Valerie?" he asked. "They're having a good time. If they're having a good time, why should you be crying like this?"
Was he right? she thought through her tears. No ... he couldn't be right. She wanted to rush up and tear that awful girl away from her husband! And yet ... and yet ... she knew that she was in no position to throw stones. These strange and perplexing thoughts coursed madly through her brain, and not until she felt the cool air on her bare flesh did she realize that Clifford was pulling off her clothes!
"Stop it!" she cried out. "You'll only make things worse!"
"No, it will make things better than ever!" contradicted Clifford, leering down at the frightened wife as his powerful hands yanked the white tennis dress up over her head.
"This is the way I want to see you, baby," he muttered, gazing down at the sight of her naked ivory breasts with their rose-tipped nipples, and he sighed with obscene satisfaction. One hand reached out to stroke the softly trembling white mounds, while his other hand fumbled for the thin elastic waist-band of Valerie's nylon bikini panties.
"No, Clifford!" she cried out, loudly this time. "It was just a mistake. I don't want to let you make love to me again! Please don't!"
But Clifford was in no mood to be stopped. His voice came out hoarse and lust-ridden. "Gonna fuck some sense into you, baby," he gasped, as he slipped out of his tennis clothes and pushed the protesting blonde down onto the grassy slope.
CHAPTER NINE
The first loud whispers and cries which came up from Jordan's wife and Jordan's boss fell unnoticed on the young man's ears, for his head was buried between the hotly grasping thighs of Sabina Saanen. All his energy was concentrating itself upon sucking her sweet and delectable little pussy, and bringing her to the same point of mindless frenzy which she had shown him earlier that very afternoon. But when the sounds grew louder and louder, he pulled his head up from between the writhing brunette's thighs.
"No, Clifford," came his wife's voice. "I don't want you to make love to me again!"
Oh God, he thought, it can't be true! Within seconds, the adulterous businessman had jumped up from between the young secretary's open thighs, and with a total disregard for his bad knee, he was running along the creek bank to where the voices had come from.
For a moment, Jordan could not believe his eyes. There before him, in the deepening shadows, was his young blonde wife, totally naked. And the man beside her was pushing her body down to the ground.
"Valerie! What the hell are you doing...! " he cried out in a loud voice.
And then Sabina was beside him, purring into his ear as though everything was all right. "Yes, it's Cliff and Val," she said. "They're going to fuck, just like you and I are going to!" And her hand reached for his crotch, but he brushed her angrily away.
For a minute Jordan stood stock still, unable to comprehend that his wife and his boss could be in such a lewd position. His dark eyes bulged with shock and disbelief, and the blood rushing to his head hammered in his temples.
"Don't do it!" he heard his own voice call out urgently. "Don't do it, Val!" And then angrily: "Leave my wife alone, Cliff!"
But Clifford was not about to be stopped. "Come on over and share her, man," he cried out. And then he pulled the naked girl down upon him. A sudden obscene inspiration had come to Clifford Helmann, and he roughly commanded the young blonde:
"Get on top of me!" he said harshly, reaching his hands around her smooth-fleshed hips to help roll her quivering body over his own passion-fevered loins. "We'll show your husband how we can fuck, okay? Just like last time, okay, baby?"
"Wh-what?" Valerie gasped.
"I said get on top of me," he repeated hoarsely, pulling her slender body around so that she lay above him. "I wanna see you ride my cock, baby!"
"No!" she cried. "No, I don't want to! Jordan! Don't let him do this!" Her breath was coming in quick labored gasps and she only wished her husband would put an end to this. But then something snapped within the young wife's brain, and all her long pent-up desires surfaced in a great rush of erotic fury, sweeping away all vestiges of morality and inhibitions. What did it matter that her husband was standing there, about to watch her being fucked by his boss? What did it matter anyway? After all, hadn't he just been doing the same awful things with that secretary? And, she thought, all those years of being pure and faithful certainly had not brought her any rewards ... now she would just do as she pleased and everyone else could be damned!
"like this, baby," Clifford was explaining, his impatient hands clasping around the smooth white cheeks of her resilient buttocks and positioning her blonde-trimmed cuntal mouth directly above his throbbing hardness. A lewd little smile lighted his handsome face as he did so.
Valerie felt lust and humiliation surging through her naked loins. She thought she would never be able to face herself again, if this obscene debasement were performed upon her! Yet, even as she protested, she knew it was all a lie. She wanted Cliff to fuck her, fuck her right in front of her husband and that smirking little cunt of a company secretary! She wanted it deep down inside! She wanted Jordan to see her fuck!
"Take my prick in your hand and put it in your cunt, you hot little bitch!" ordered Clifford in a masterful voice.
Valerie's body struggled and strained against his, still resisting this further humiliation, but to her shame the lewd masochistic thrills of excitement continued to shoot along her spine. Deep in her unprotected pussy the flames of prurient desire once again sent out their signals to the nerve endings of her helplessly aroused loins.
"Yes," she heard a low hoarse voice saying, that she barely recognized as being her own. "Yes, do whatever you want to me, Cliff." As the words fell from her lips, a violent shudder of desire wracked her body. I'm at his mercy, she thought. He can do anything he wants to me and I just don't care any more!
Valerie reached out her hand then and guided his lust-distended hardness toward the small quivering mouth of her vagina. Gingerly she parted her hair-fringed cuntal lips to guide his blunt, lust-bloated cock-head up and down along her already moist pussy slit.
"Come on," urged Clifford. "Stick it in. baby. Let Jordan see how we can fuck. Stick my prick up your pussy!" He felt Valerie's obedient fingers pressing his pulsating cudgel against the quivering mouth of her cunt. Then, unable to wait another second, he flicked his muscular hips upward and plunged his aching hardness deep into her belly, knowing she wanted it now as much as he did.
"Aaaaarrrrrrggggghhhhhhh!" groaned the impaled wife. "That's too fast, Cliff! It hurts!" The unexpected searing pain shot from her obscenely violated vagina throughout her entire body. "Oooooooohhhhhhh! You're killing me!"
"Good for you, baby," grunted the hippie executive in delight. The warm moist walls of her clasping vagina squeezed in protest against his invading penis like a tight fist, and he could distinguish every ridge and fold of her inner pussy flesh. He flexed his lengthy thickness twice, and then pulled her body down further onto his up-thrust penis.
Hovering above him with her hands on his shoulders for support, the gasping young blonde was trying to relax her seared vaginal muscles. She felt as though she had never been so filled in her entire life. Certainly last week it had been easier.
"Now fuck me, baby," Cliff was groaning. "Fuck your ass up and down!"
It was just too obscene to be true, thought Valerie dazedly, that she was lying naked astride Clifford Helmann with her own husband watching just several yards away. A shudder of shame and forbidden arousal ran through her flesh at the salacious thought.
"Oh yessss!" she mewled.
And then she began to undulate her firm-fleshed thighs on either side of the obscenely impaling rod of hardened male flesh, and all traces of pain gradually fell to the wayside as she moved more and more eagerly above him.
"Good, baby, that's good," came the red-haired executive's lust-fevered, hoarse voice. The sight of her smooth slim naked body writhing above him like a wild goddess in the depths of the forest only increased his lecherous desire, and he began to fuck his pulsating thickness deep up into her heated vagina with smooth straight strokes that sank all the way up to her spongy cervix.
Then, as Clifford reached his middle finger down between their crazily slapping loins to tease at the erected bud of Valerie's clitoris, the blonde beauty began to moan in earnest desire. Incoherent gurgles arose from her chest and spewed from her lust-contorted lips in a flood of obscene sounds that only heightened the excitement for both of them.
CHAPTER TEN
"He's fucking her like crazy," purred Sabina hotly into Jordan's ear as the two of them stood just yards away from the madly writhing couple on the grass.
"What do you think of that?" she hissed. "What are you going to do about it?" Once again the seductive young brunette reached down and began to stroke his penis, which had jumped to an involuntary erection at the sight of his wife's lewd copulation.
But this time he did not push her hand away. His thoughts were elsewhere, and hurt was burning in his heart. Cruel memories of the countless times he had made love to Valerie with her staring in boredom at the ceiling above the bed flashed back to him. She never enjoyed fucking me like that! he thought. Never did she respond with that fevered passion! Where had he failed! What did Clifford have that he lacked?
Valerie was moaning now in a feverish pitch of arousal, and the sound of her voice echoed in her husband's ears like a knife stabbing at his very soul. This was the way he had always wanted it to be with the two of them ... why did she have to respond like this with his boss, and not with her own husband?
"Go on," Sabina encouraged the dazed man standing beside her. "Show her you can make love too! We can all fuck together!" Her gentle hand gave his hardened cock a last lascivious squeeze, and the naked brunette took her employer's hand and led him across the grass until the two of them stood directly behind the grinding buttocks of Jordan's faithless wife.
God, thought Jordan, he'd like to slam his cock up her adulterous little cunt! God, he'd like to show her a lesson she wouldn't easily forget!
"Fuck her in the ass!" whispered his secretary. "Fuck her in the ass while Cliff fucks her cunt!" And something flashed in Jordan's brain. He had never done this to his wife, never done it to any girl in fact since a long-ago fraternity party before the days of his marriage to Valerie. But hadn't he always secretly dreamed of it, as he lay beside his wife's unresponsive body at night. Well, now was his chance, for there was nothing she could do to stop him now!
"Yeah!" he muttered hoarsely. "Okay, and why not?"
Valerie was so totally absorbed in the pleasurable sensations which shot wantonly throughout her abandoned young body that she was not aware of the fact that her husband and the young company secretary were standing only inches away from her wildly undulating buttocks. Not until she felt the brunette teenager's warm gentle fingers pressing into the sensitive flesh of her uplifted ass-cheeks did she become aware of their presence, and her shame and mortification came back in a flash.
"Stop it ... what are you doing?" she gasped.
Sabina paid her no heed, but continued to knead relentlessly at Valerie's resilient skin, and to spread her buttocks as far apart as they would possibly go. At the same time, Clifford's rhythmically stroking cock seemed to fuck deeper than ever into her pleasure-rich vagina. The strange sensations directly behind her mingled with the most exquisite shivers which shot out from her cock-stuffed cuntal furrow, mingling incoherently, until the blonde woman was no longer quite sure just what was actually happening to her ravished body. A part of her was still screaming out its wretched humiliation, but that voice was being drowned out by the louder element of purely lascivious erotic arousal.
"Look," Sabina was saying to Jordan, in an encouraging voice. "Look how nice. Think how good it will feel to stuff your big hard cock up between your wife's pretty buttocks!"
What is she saying? thought Valerie dazedly, hearing the other girl's words as though from a dream-like distance. A slight shiver of fearful anticipation curled along her spine, somehow only serving to heighten the pure sensual heat which infused her lust-inflamed loins. But then a stinging clap on her buttocks made the blonde wife cry out in shocked surprise.
"Spread your ass, Valerie," said the buxom young secretary. And then, "Come on, Jordan. Shove your beautiful cock right up there and show your wife you can really fuck!"
It was all too unbelievable to be true! A wave of confused disbelief swept through the impaled woman's brain. Her husband was going to shove his penis up into her anus, and that girl was encouraging him to do it!
In desperation, she tried to clench her buttocks muscles and keep this utmost humiliation from taking place, but it was in vain, for the young girl held her unwilling ass-cheeks spread wide apart.
"Nooooooo," the frightened blonde cried out desperately. "No! Don't do this to me! Jordan, don't!"
"Shut up, you cheating little bitch!" came her husband's voice. "You like cock so much well, maybe you'll like two at a time!"
It was incredible, thought Valerie. But it was real. Another burning slap fell across her proffered buttocks, and then, to her horror and disgust, she sensed the hard hot pressure of her husband's lust-bloated cock-head moving against her cringing rectum. For an instant she thought she would pass out, right there in the grass, with Clifford's big penis shoving back and forth up into her cunt, but another tremor of lust shot through her imprisoned body and she knew she would not.
Instead. Valerie moaned aloud in pain and masochistic desire.
Jordan gazed down with lust-maddened eyes at his wife's dark crinkled anus resting beneath his throbbing thickness. It certainly did not seem large enough to hold his entire stiffened cock, but he did not let that deter him as he flexed his muscular hips and plunged with all his fury up in between Valerie's palpitating white ass-cheeks. An unnatural thrill of wildly sadistic pleasure surged through the dark-haired man as he felt her still-virginal rectum gripping all around his achingly revengeful penis, and a cry of triumph broke from his lips.
"That's it, Jordan," Sabina Saanen cried with excitement. "Give it to her, Jordan. Oh good, now we can all fuck together!" The sex-happy brunette cheered him on, her own insatiable body tingling with lewd arousal at the sight of two male penises pistoning in and out of the wailing blonde woman's orifices. "Come on, she cried again, "Fuck her good!"
"Arrrggghhh, sobbed Valerie, with piteous sounding pain. Her husband's relentless penetration of her narrow and unprepared anal opening sent her helplessly subjugated body into a spasm of tortured hurt. She tried to dislodge the pistoning cudgel by a frantic gyration of her buttocks, but unfortunately this only served to increase the already unbearable pain and drive her husband's pounding, lust-swollen penis ever deeper between her shivering ass-cheeks.
"Stop it!" the impaled blonde wailed in anguish. "Stop it, both of you! You're hurting me ... oh please stop!"
But there was no mercy for Valerie. Her husband Jordan looked down at his wife's naked body with a combination of lust and anger, and also a sort of lewd excitement and satisfaction at knowing how he was humiliating her. This would surely pay her back, he thought in a sort of bitter triumph.
"Give it to her, boys!" called out Sabina, like a cheerleader for her favorite team.
For an instant the young brunette's voice reminded Jordan uncomfortably of his own adulterous behavior just that afternoon. Had he not also been unfaithful? He had been only too glad to be sucked by the lovely young uninhibited girl, with never a thought for his blonde wife. Why should he punish Valerie now? He was as guilty as she was ... and they were all guilty, he thought unhappily ... or were they? Jordan had never seriously considered the sort of life where people who were married slept casually with other people without tears and accusations, and now, as he pummeled his lust-swollen penis into his wife's rectum, the thought came to him in clear reality.
Why not? he thought. I liked fucking Sabina, and Val--likes fucking Clifford. Why not, really?
And, at this revelation of a thought, the aggressiveness and anger somehow went out of his brutal ass-fuck. Instead he felt overcome with remorse. Very gently he pulled his shafting penis out of his wife's ravaged anal depths, and very gently slid it back deeply, trying for the first time not to cause her too much pain.
"Relax, baby," he said, "I'm not going to hurt you anymore."
"Oooooooooh," moaned his wife. To her astonishment, Jordan no longer sounded so furious and as though he wanted to debase her. No, he sounded loving and gentle! More loving than he had for months, really!
"Oh Jordan...." she sobbed, trying to relax as he had told her. To her surprise and amazement, most of the torturous pain ceased as her muscles untensed. Indeed, the pressuring sensation in her cock-filled nether depths became almost pleasurable! The strokes of the man thrusting up into her pussy, and the strokes of the man thrusting down into her rectum began to move in rhythm, and the sensation was incredible!
Tinglings of the strongest sensual pleasure which Valerie had ever experienced began to form within her impaled body. It feels good! she told herself in astonishment. I must be terribly depraved to like it, but I really do! I must be mad, but it feels incredibly good!
Shame and humiliation at her own desire flooded through the doubly impaled woman. But even the most abject remorse about what was being done to her body could not hold back the powerful orgasm that was swelling within her loins in response to the simultaneous stimulation of her anal and vaginal orifices. Waves of never-before-experienced ecstasy began to swell within her most secret depths, and she cried out her mindless bliss in a strangled sob.
"YESSSSSS! Fuck me! Oh fuck fuck fuck! Oh it feels so good! Fuck me harder! Fuck me in the ass! Oh fuck me, Clifford! Fuck me, Jordan! I'm going to cuuuuuuum!"
Both men were spurred into faster and more furious fucking by the thrashing young blonde's wanton wails. Madly they plunged into her quivering belly, their cocks separated from each other by only the thinnest of membranes. Both of them knew that only in a matter of minutes they too would be exploding their hot loads of semen inside Valerie's eagerly thrashing young body.
"Oh yes," she continued to cry out. "Oh Jordan! Oh Clifford! Cum inside me too! Oh I'm cummmmming ... aaaaarrrr ggghhh!" Valerie continued to cry in an inhuman, animalistic voice as her body was caught up in the turbulence of the most powerful orgasm she had ever experienced in all of her twenty-eight years.
"Now!" she cried out. "Yes! Now!"
The dilating, muscles of Valerie's wildly spasming cunt and anus touched off the two men's orgasms at almost the same instant. Within seconds of each other, the two men were moaning in harmony with the feverishly orgasming blonde, and their penises erupted in floods of sperm. Her vaginal and rectal passages were filled with gush after gush of hot male semen, and the insanely excited woman lunged and twisted eagerly between them at the exhilarating feel of the boiling liquid shooting up into her body.
On and on went the three-way climax, until finally, in utter satiation, the two men's rapidly deflating penises slipped soft and spent from the body of the ravished young blonde. And the three exhausted lovers collapsed in a pile of hot sweating bodies on the grass of the Town and Country Tennis and Golf Club.
Only the brunette secretary, Sabina Saanen, remained standing, and she stared at the perspiring bodies which lay about her in a state of collapse. An expectant, knowing smile played on her regular features. With one hand she gently caressed her swollen breasts, using her fingers to tweak the nipples into taut erection with the same skill she used that afternoon on Jordan Douglas's lusting body. Her other hand rubbed against her aching vaginal slit, back and forth over her throbbing clitoris. And then finally she could stand it no longer. She had to have some sex too. and she dropped down among the three naked bodies.
With slow and sensuous hands, she caressed the sated lovers into renewed consciousness.
"Jordan," she whispered. "Clifford. Valerie." And Clifford rolled over to take her into his arms.
This roused Valerie from her trance-like state, and she stared up at all the others, a feeling of bliss and contentment pervading her. No, she thought, she could not even be angry at Sabina any longer. She loved all of them, and especially Jordan.
Hesitantly, Valerie reached a hand out to touch her husband, and he took her hand in his firm grasp.
"Hey, Val," he moaned softly, "I love you.
"I love you too, Jordan," she answered, feeling her whole being infused with serenity and tenderness.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," he murmured. "I was only angry, baby, I really wouldn't hurt you. you know."
"Yes," she answered. "I know." She gazed deeply into her husband's eyes, feeling as though she had never really before seen him, never before known him.
"It's all right," he said slowly, "if you want to sleep with Clifford. Of qourse it's all right, Val. I want you to do anything you want that makes you happy. Maybe then things will be better ... between us, I mean."
"Yes," she murmured contentedly. "Yes. maybe then we'll get more out of life." And with her other hand she reached out to caress Clifford, who had opened her eyes to this new knowledge.
Then suddenly, with a burst of uncharacteristic selflessness, Valerie turned over and gave Sabina a kiss on the cheek. "Maybe, we'll all get more out of life then," she murmured, "but first, before we fall asleep, let's give Sabina a turn. You never finished sucking her pussy, darling."
Jordan looked at his wife in astonished amazement. "You mean it?"
Valerie laughed. "Of course I mean it," she answered, and her azure eyes had a new sensuality and maturity which Jordan had never before seen in them.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Valerie Douglas carried a basketful of laundry from the bathroom closet of her small but comfortable little cottage to the Maytag washing machine which stood in the pantry. As she passed the kitchen with her bundle, she caught a glimpse through the window of the eucalyptus trees swaying in the October breeze. Past those eucalyptus trees, the young blond woman knew, was the coastline she loved so much, and the wild and unruly Pacific Ocean with its countless miles of forgotten beaches stretching north ward to Canada and south all the way to sunny Mexico.
Now that the summer was past, the small community of Goleta, a beach town just north of Santa Barbara, had quite gone to sleep for the winter. Oh, there were still fine and sunny days, days when Valerie would take her bicycle into town to fetch the mail at the little Goleta Post Office. It was too cold for swimming now, but still she would walk to the beach and sit on the high craggy rocks for hours, watching the waves break and cascade in ageless fury.
Automatically and effortlessly, with the sure motions of a woman who had been a housewife for years, the azure-eyed blonde loaded her Maytag automatic. Then she picked up a copy of a book she had reading about self-sufficiency farming, lit a cigarette, and walked out to the backyard to sit underneath one of the eucalyptus trees, in its comfortable niche where her back fit against the truck just so. Meditatively, she inhaled the cigarette, and turned the pages of her book to the chapter on chickens, ducks, and geese.
I should get some chickens, she thought. Or even rabbits, maybe. It would just give me something to do. And with the price of eggs, I really can't afford not to.
But, as with the pottery lessons she had often thought she should take, or the University of California at Santa Barbara extension courses in teaching, so that she could finally get her degree and teach, somehow she never got around to doing it. In all truth, she had done nothing at all since they had moved out here to the West Coast, and even less since Jordan had left her. There simply seemed to be no motivation remaining within the twenty-eight-year-old blond ex-wife.
Of course, she mused, turning the pages to the section of the particular advantages of the Rhode-Island Red, versus the advantages of the New Hampshire, which seemed to be a deriative of the Rhode Island, of course maybe this is just post-divorce depression. Or pre-divorce depression, as it hasn't even been legalized yet.
But she knew that there was something more to it than that, more to it than just a passing stage in her life which would disappear as other stages arose in its place. No, instead it was like a permanent, unceasing malaise, and Valerie did not really know a way out.
And then her other fantasy, this one even more child-like, she now thought-that if she and Jordan could open up toward other people, and experience other men, other women, that her marriage would be saved. Saved? she now thought bitterly. That her marriage would be ruined was more like it. And, looking back to it, it seemed to the now less-confused ex-wife that truly it had not been the acts of adultery so much as the acceptance of adultery which had brought things all crashing down upon her handsome husband and herself.
Oh, things had worked out quite fine at first, she recollected, smoking her cigarette and listening to the calls of seagulls circling past on their way to the beach. Quite fine. In all honesty, she and Jordan had felt they would be more open, more responsive to each other if they could be more open and responsive to people outside their marriage. And-as when they had invited Clifford and whichever girl friend he happened to have at the moment, and they had all ended up on the huge double bed together after dinner-the feelings of mutual four-way love had seemed quite genuine at the time.
What was it then exactly? mused the young woman. Maybe it was when they moved out here to the Coast, leaving behind Clifford and the Milwaukee office and the people who quite accepted this sort of a lifestyle.
Before they even reached Santa Barbara-in fact, it had taken place somewhere in Kansas-she and Jordan had decided that they would carry the same sort of no-holds-barred attitude with them on their move to California.
"If we're constantly jealous about each other, you know how it well be," the dark-haired man had said, over the wheel of the Volkswagen bus. "The only way we can meet interesting people is on a one-to-one basis."
Valerie had agreed wholeheartedly. "Yes, you're right, Jordan. I don't want to be caught up in another ghastly household trap, like we were at first in Milwaukee-having other sweet little married couples in for nice dinners, and that sort of thing, you know?"
"Although we had fun when Clifford used to come for dinner," her husband smiled.
"Yes, of course," replied his wife. "That was different. We can't expect to meet people who like things like that, at least not straightaway. It's just that I-I mean we-both need to feel like we're alive."
She looked earnestly up at her husband. "Alive," the striking blonde repeated in a rather desperate voice.
Well, thought Valerie with the wisdom of hindsight which time never fails to bring, maybe being "alive" isn't really the most important part of it after all. The first few months in Goleta had surely been lively enough. She had met a couple of surfers at the beach, and one man at the free tennis court, and even a guy at a rock concert in town. She'd gone home with them, gone to bed, listened to what they had to say, thinking all the time how vital and alive her every move was, how free she was.
Jordan as well had immediately begun to meet people-women!-on his own. Sometimes he would stay away from home for days on end; sometimes when he came home to dinner, Valerie wouldn't be there to cook it. They started leaving notes to each other about where they were, and then ceased doing even that. They joked together about how they ought to have an answering service hooked up to the telephone, so they could communicate without actually coming home ... but it was a joke without laughter.
And yet all the time neither partner ever criticized or reproached the other's behavior. It was all part of the lifestyle that had long ago ceased to be a simple experiment. And slowly, insidiously, the very roots of their marriage wore away, shredded irreparably, until the very fact of their living to gether seemed silly, pointless.
When Jordan left, even that was undramatic, almost casual. It was, Valerie thought as though the fabric of her marriage had long ago worn thin, and this was only the final, slightly bitter tear. He came home one evening and told her he was leaving.
"I'm going up to Mendocino County to help design a farm for some people there," he said. "I've had enough of offices for a while."
It was simple, cold, clean, without tears. And yet now Valerie wished the tears would come. She wished for a big soggy feather pillow and a good old-fashioned cry about it all, but it simply wouldn't happen ... like their life had become, it was all too antiseptic.
The words to an old song rang through Valerie Douglas's mind as she went into her pantry to turn off her Maytag automatic washer:
... you never know how much you want What you've got until it's gone until it's gone....
Valerie didn't realize that a new direction was now to move into her life-with the appearance of a young girl named Ingrid Martin. With Jordan gone, Valerie soon came to the decision that she wanted to share the expenses of living with someone-a roommate. After deliberating on it, she decided that, although there were plenty of young men available in the college town of Goleta, it would be best to take in another female, thus retaining her own freedom, the way of life she had now grown used to. She placed an advertisement in the local newspaper on the very day that Ingrid Martin was to read the classified ads.
It was the beginning of a series of experiences for both girls.
Ingrid, however, was not to see Valerie's ad at her first inquiry into apartment hunting.
CHAPTER TWELVE
One bd. apt. w-w cpt. bale, yr. lease 256-4923.12 Union
Ingrid smiled. She had read the ads carefully, looking for just the right apartment, and this looked like it. Union Street was only a few blocks from her office. Now, if the price was right and she liked the looks of the place, she could get out of her parents' house and be on her own.
She went to the telephone, and, taking a deep breath, dialed the number. It rang three times, and then a man's voice said, "Hello."
"Hello. My name is Ingrid. I'm calling about the ad in the paper, you know, for that apartment."
"Yes, certainly." The male voice was low and smooth, like the thickest buckwheat honey, she thought.
"Well, uh, it's not rented, is it?"
"No. It's still available. Would you like to look at it?"
"Yes. I mean I think so. How much is it?"
"The rent? One-fifty a month. The owner requires a year lease. I'm being transferred out of town, so I have to find someone to sublet the place. The owner wants whoever takes it to sign up for a year, even though my lease still has three months to go. You see?"
"Yeah, sure," Ingrid replied, not seeing at all. She had, after all, only just turned nineteen and had always lived at home. This business of apartment hunting was completely new to her.
"Are you single or married?" the honey voice asked. Ingrid was crazy about the sound of it. Something in it spoke of deepest warmth and the something made her shiver all over. She wondered what its owner looked like.
"Are you there?" The voice was a little impatient.
"Yes, yes. Oh, you asked if I was married. I'm single."
"Well, the owner was really wanting to rent to a couple this time. But there's nothing wrong with your coming over to take a look. It's Twelve, Union Street. Like it says in the paper. Can you find it?"
"Yes, I think so. I work over on Grand."
"Oh, that would be handy for you. By the way, what do you look like, so I'll know you when you get here?"
"I'm five feet six, brown hair. I'm nineteen."
"Hm. I'll be looking for you. Are you coming right away?" Something about the way he said it made Ingrid feel that he was eager for her to get there as soon as possible. Again, she wondered what he would be like.
"Yes." She answered. "That'd be fine."
"Great. By the way, my name's Bill Hammond. What did you say your name was again?"
"Ingrid Martin."
"Right. See you in a little while, Ingrid."
In less than forty-five minutes, Ingrid Martin was ringing the buzzer over the name Bill Hammond. She would have been earlier, except that something had told her to check her makeup and change into some more exciting clothes. She had chosen a tight, short black skirt which tucked in a bit at the back to emphasize her pert little butt, and a pale blue sweater that showed off her nicely developed breasts. If Bill Hammond was as exciting as his voice, she did not want to lose the opportunity of getting to know him better.
"Yes?" asked a voice.
"It's Ingrid Martin. I'm here to see the apartment."
"The Ingrid Martin who's five-six, brown-haired, and nineteen?"
"Yes, that's the one!" she giggled.
"Come on up. I'll buzz the door open."
She put her hand on the knob and, when the buzzer sounded, opened the door and went inside. Number Six, the sign beside Bill Hammond's name had said. Ingrid walked slowly down the green carpeted hall, looking at the numbers on the doors. She found Six. The door was ajar. Ingrid knocked softly. Maybe Bill Hammond would be fifty-five, short and fat. Maybe he would be as ugly as anyone she had ever seen. But maybe he would be fantastic. She knocked again, a little louder this time.
"Come on in, Ingrid," said the sexy voice she'd heard on the phone. She pushed the door open and walked inside. The living room was stacked with cardboard boxes, some sealed with brown tape, others half-full with clothing, towels, and other belongings hanging over their sides.
"I'm in the kitchen," called the honey voice.
Ingrid moved to the archway and peeked around the comer. There, standing on a stepstool, was Bill Hammond. He was not fifty-five, and he was definitely not ugly. The tall, curly-haired blond smiled down at her. Blue eyes twinkled in his handsome face. He was well muscled without being muscle bound. His very short, frayed levi cutoffs revealed strong legs, fit for a swimmer or long-distance runner. Ingrid just stood there, looking at him.
"Hi, Ingrid. Glad you came over." He hopped down from the stool. "I'm right in the middle of packing. Had no idea I had so much stuff. Where do you want to start?"
Ingrid had an answer for that right on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes were riveted on Bill's bulging crotch. She wondered what he would look like naked. Certainly the skimpy cutoffs and form-hugging white teeshirt did not leave too much to her imagination, but she still wondered.
She could tell from the look in his eyes that he was appraising her closely as well. Ingrid knew he was bound to like what he saw. Her young body had filled out nicely. She was firm and yet had soft inviting curves in what she knew to be the right places to please any normal man. Her breasts were especially fine, large without being sloppy and proudly upstanding. She was proud of her body, and she knew from past experience that she had what was needed to bring pleasure both to a man and to herself.
Bill Hammond's eyes on her made her feel good all over. She felt her firm young body begin to glow. Little tremors ran up and down her spine, and that special, always warm vortex between her legs began to moisten. What if the same thoughts and feelings were going through the blond stud's mind and body at the moment that were coursing through hers? Suppose she simply reached out and put her tapered fingers against that bulge in the faded cutoffs? What would he do if a perfect stranger did that? Would he throw her to the floor and cover her with his strong body? Or would he be so freaked out, he'd turn off?
"Well," she smiled, "suppose you just give me a little tour of the place. Ok?"
"Sure. Well, as you can see, this is the kitchen. Stove, refrigerator. No disposal, but there's a chute to throw the garbage down. That's an exhaust fan there."
"Hm. Lots of cupboard space."
"Yeah. This is the living room, where you came in. It's kind of small, but the view's nice. The drapes come with it. So does the rug."
Ingrid's eyes kept straying to Bill's crotch. Was it expanding? She glanced at his face and saw that he was staring at her openly. She wondered if he was distracted by her tight sweater and her ass-hugging skirt. It was short, and Ingrid was glad of it. That way, it showed off her long, beautiful legs. Ingrid knew she was built for pleasure. She intended to make the most of it every chance she got. Bill's gaze made her shiver all the more. She could feel that her cunt was literally dripping by now. If something more didn't come out of this meeting than a tour of an apartment, she was going to be damned disappointed.
"Down this hall's the bath and bedroom." Bill switched on the light in a small bathroom, and an exhaust fan whirred into action.
"Is that a standard-sized tub?" Ingrid asked.
"No, actually, it's what they call apartment size. It's about four feet long instead of five."
"Must be sort of hard for somebody as big as you to take a bath in it."
"Well, no. I take showers most of the time. They're faster."
"I suppose that's right." Ingrid sighed. "No point taking any longer than you have to, especially when you live alone."
"What does living alone have to do with it?" Bill asked.
"Oh, I don't know exactly. Just a funny thought that ran through my mind. If you're living alone, there's nobody to watch you in the bathroom, so you might as well hurry."
"That all depends on the neighbors." They both laughed.
"Here's the bedroom. Excuse the mess."
"I see you have a king-size bed."
"Yeah. I got it about a year ago."
"How do you like it?"
"Fine. I like to stretch out, and it gives me plenty of room to do it."
"It's so big, it would give you plenty of room to stretch even if you weren't alone." Ingrid tested the bed with her hand and then sat down on its edge. Her face was even with the blond's burgeoning crotch. She twisted around a bit to let her skirt ride up to show more of her soft, inviting thighs. At that moment, she wished she could simply throw her self onto the bed, rip her skirt off to reveal her black bikini panties, and let Bill take it from there.
Bill's eyes roamed over the retreating black hemline of Ingrid's skirt. God, she had gorgeous legs. The more he saw of them, the more he wanted to get to what lay between them, nestled up there in its fetching mound of wiry hair.
From the moment Ingrid had walked into his apartment, Bill was captivated by her. She was nineteen, she said, but she seemed even younger. He noted a wonderful, innocent little-girl quality about the brown-haired, brown-eyed girl that made her obvious sexuality even more appealing. If he had his way, he wanted right now to throw himself on top of her as she perched on the edge of his king-size bed.
Bill thought of all the girls who had occupied that spot before Ingrid. He had surely had his share in the almost two years he had lived in the apartment. Had he been able to collect all the sperm he had shot into women's cunts while fucking hell out of them on that very bed, he could drown Ingrid in it.
Not since he had been in high school had Bill Hammond had any trouble getting any woman he desired. Now he desired this one. He let his eyes sweep over her. Her brown hair was shining and long, sweeping down past her lovely shoulders and framing her oval face perfectly. Her dark-brown eyes gazed at him innocently under finely arched brows and lush, curving lashes. The full mouth looked as if it could not only deliver deep, open kisses but also suck every ounce of seed out of any man. Ingrid's long, creamy smooth neck seemed extremely kissable. Bill imagined what it might be like to start her whole young body shivering by simply running a rough tongue over the side of that neck.
Her body, he thought, his cock itching, was perfect, a machine designed by the gods to afford the ultimate pleasure a man could conceive in the wildest of sex dreams. His eyes fell on her out-thrust breasts, out-lined so exactly in her pale-blue sweater. Had she decided to wear it with him in mind? he wondered. No, that was impossible. After all, she had only heard his voice on the phone. She probably came expecting some old man with a paunch.
How he wanted to wrap his hungry, wet mouth around those wonderful jugs of hers. Longing to be fed and nourished by them, he could almost feel their insistent satin smoothness against his hot lips.
Ingrid's waist was satisfyingly slim. It crowned a pair of ample hips which appeared soft and pliable, as smooth and supple to the touch as her mind-blowing tits. These hips were so inviting, looking to Bill as if they could provide a saddle in which he could buck and ride for as long as he chose, forever if he liked. He had to figure out some way to get this girl. He had to know what sex with this sensual angel was like. It would be his going-away present to himself.
But, he reflected, he was probably all wet about it. Ingrid Martin was simply a girl who had come looking for an apartment. She was not a date, not someone Bill had invited here for a fuck. Still, he did notice that her eyes seemed to stray again and again to the bulge in his cutoffs. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance.
"Bill, may I call you Bill?" Ingrid ask softly, smiling up at him from the bed.
"Yeah, sure, Ingrid. Of course you can call me Bill."
"Bill, is there anything standing in the way?" She smiled invitingly, her sensuous lips slightly parted.
"In the way, in the way of what?" Bill stammered, feeling blood course to his already-blushing face.
"Of my taking this apartment."
"Oh, oh, that. No, I guess not, if you want it."
"I'm sure I want it. I can afford a hundred and fifty. I've been working for a few months now, and I know how to budget. There should be no problem paying that kind of rent."
"That's great. I was hoping you would take it. I think you'd fit in real well here. I wish we'd gotten to know each other before."
"We know each other now, and that's better than not at all. Right?" She looked into his blue eyes, and he knew he could lose himself in her dark-brown ones at any time.
"Yeah, I guess so," he answered.
"You said something on the telephone about the owner wanting to rent to a couple."
"Well, she did mention that. It's something you'll have to take up with her. Her name's Mrs. DeSanto. She's a real old bat, unless you know how to handle her. I had a little trouble with her when I first moved in."
"What kind of trouble, anything serious?" Ingrid asked.
"No, not really. She was just always in the hall, sort of spying, especially late at night. It was a little embarrassing, at least it was when I had a date with me."
"And did that happen often? Or maybe I shouldn't ask that."
"Yes, pretty often. I mean, I date about as much as any other normal guy my age."
Ingrid wondered what types of girls Bill dated. Maybe she should ask, she thought, but that would be too forward. Still, she was determined to figure out some way to let him know how much she wanted to make it with him. By now, her hot cunt was itching with the thought of what was inside those cutoffs. Ingrid wanted to swallow this beautiful blond god whole, both into her twat and into her wet, slippery throat. She could imagine what it would be like to have him. The idea of his full mouth sucking at her leaking cunt crossed her mind, making her body twitch with excitement.
"Are you cold?" Bill asked.
"No, not at all. I'm fine."
"Oh, you were shivering, or at least I thought you were. Anyhow, I finally just told her, the landlady, I mean, that I needed more privacy. She kept her distance after that. Old Mrs. DeSanto came over from Italy when she was just a girl, but she still has such a heavy accent, you can just about cut it with a knife."
Ingrid stretched, allowing her blue sweater to lift just enough to show Bill her taut, smooth abdomen with its deeply indented navel. Bill stared at it, working his pointed tongue inside his mouth, pretending to himself that he was twirling and digging it into the sexy little belly button. He also looked once more at her beautiful, jutting tits, as they pressed themselves against the insides of the soft sweater. The nipples were clearly out-lined, proving what Bill had suspected, that Ingrid was not wearing a bra. God, how he longed to get at her, to run his wet tongue all over every inch of her lithe, succulent body. He knew just by looking at her how sweet the musky taste of her would be. He would sample all the variations, burying his face in her armpits, sucking up the drops of perspiration generated by his action with her. He would move over her bit by bit, kissing and licking her all over, everywhere but right at the heart of her. That, her beautiful tight little box, he would save for last. He would wait until Ingrid was nearly crazy with anticipation, until she was screaming for him to eat her hot, juicing cunt, and then he would dive into it, parting its pouting lips with his greedy tongue, sucking out all the girlish juices.
Now, Ingrid go up from the bed. She brushed lightly against Bill as she moved toward the door. Had it been an accident, or had the brown-eyed beauty been trying to tell him something important?
"Come on, Bill. You have to show me the balcony."
He followed her out of the bedroom, his eyes on her part, twitching little ass. His hands cupped themselves involuntarily as he visualized himself running his fingers over the soft, pliable flesh of her lovely butt.
Ingrid had wanted to stay in the bedroom, spread out for the muscular blond's attention, forever. It seemed, however, that he was not about to make a definite move. She was certain now that he was interested. As she watched him from the bed, she had seen the bulge in the Levi shorts pulse with life. He was interested all right. From the way he had looked at her, she thought he might come right in his pants. What a shame that would be, to waste all that sweet man-honey on a pair of Levis. She wondered what Bill's cum would taste like. Her experience had taught her that no two men tasted exactly the same. Jesus, she loved to drink cum, the taste of it, in whatever variation, never ceasing to delight her. Having a man's sperm flowing down her gullet always gave Ingrid a sense of power, even more than when the contractions of her tight pussy milked the juice out of him into her guts.
Right then, she made up her mind. She had been growing more and more certain that she was going to have this beautiful blue-eyed man. Now she knew that if he did not make a move, she would. But what if he really did not want to go through with it? Some guys, she knew, got their kicks out of watching and anticipation. They were not interested in following through. Well, if Bill wasn't, he wasn't. They were completely alone. She had nothing to lose by finding out.
"Here's the balcony," Bill said, sliding open the floor-to-ceiling glass door. He stepped back to let her walk out onto it.
Ingrid looked around. She could see the bay in the distance and some of the buildings downtown. Closer, there were the windows of other apartment buildings.
"It's a beautiful view," Ingrid said, leaning over the railing, knowing that this raised her skirt to give Bill a better view of her upper legs. "Do you have any trouble with privacy?"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, I just noticed that several other apartments have windows facing this balcony. I wondered if you had any trouble with people peeking at you."
"No, not that I've noticed. Come to think of it, I never paid much attention. I figure if they haven't seen it by now, it's time they did."
"See what?" Ingrid figured she probably should resist saying that, but she did it anyway. She was fed up with being subtle.
"Me, I guess." Bill smiled. "You see, I run around nude a lot when I'm home alone. Makes me feel more relaxed somehow. I just figure if anybody hasn't seen a naked man before now, maybe I can teach them something."
"And does that apply to everybody? Me, for instance?" Ingrid looked him straight in the eye.
"I suppose so," he laughed nervously.
"But I imagine maybe a pretty girl like you has seen a naked man before now."
"Imagine whatever you want to," Ingrid smiled at him. "A girl always enjoys seeing one more, if you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I suppose so."
"How about you? Don't you ever do any looking out these windows, hoping to see a naked woman?"
"As a matter-of-fact, I do. There, see those French windows over there in that red brick building? There's a young couple moved in there about a month ago. They go at it with the lights on every night, and in all kinds of positions. I've learned a few from them I didn't know."
"Oh, really?" Ingrid purred.
"Yeah. And I thought I knew just about every position there was."
"Funny. I would have guessed you probably did too." Ingrid looked him directly in the eyes and smiled, her moist lips partly open. Then she slowly and deliberately let her gaze slip down his body to center on his throbbing crotch. Those faded cutoffs were so short that she knew it wouldn't take much for his hot tool to be visible.
A moment passed in silence.
"Come on inside, let me fix you a drink. Would you like that?"
"Yes," she smiled broadly, showing him her perfect white teeth. "Yes, Bill, I'd like that very much."
They went inside. Bill told her to clear off a place on the couch and sit down. Meanwhile, he went to the kitchen and fixed drinks.
"Whiskey on the rocks OK?" he called.
"Yes. That's just fine." Ingrid settled herself on the couch, once again making sure her short skirt was hiked up as far as she could get it without offering Bill her cunt on a silver platter. She reached between her legs and gave her itching slit a reassuring pat.
It won't be long now, baby, she thought. Mama's going to finger-fuck you to death if this big son of a bitch doesn't give you what you like to eat. But he will, or I'll know the reason why.
Her fingers came away wet. Her anticipating twat had leaked its hot juices right through the sheer fabric of her bikini panties.
"Here they are," Bill 'said, bringing the drinks. He handed her one and sat down in a straight-backed chair opposite her. "To your health," he toasted, raising his glass.
"To yours," Ingrid replied, smiling at him.
Bill leaned back in the chair, tipping the two front legs off the floor. He spread his strong legs wide apart. Ingrid was struck again with the shortness of the frayed cutoffs. She caught her breath. She could see something through the leg hole. It was Bill's stallion-sized sac of balls. They were huge. Ingrid had never seen any larger. The sac looked smooth as silk and was covered with a scattering of wiry blond hairs. Her mouth watered at the sight of it. She could almost taste the spiced, musky flavor of it, feel the impossibly smooth texture of it against her tongue.
Bill leaned back further in the chair. As he did so, his cock flopped into view. Ingrid saw that he was uncut, and hung like a giant. The cock was nearly hard, but still not rigid. My God, she thought, it must be a foot long.
"Ingrid, are you enjoying your drink?" Bill asked, almost whispering and fully aware of where Ingrid was staring.
"Drink. Oh, yes. Nice." She was nearly hypnotized with desire. She had to get that beautiful organ and those low-hanging balls into her mouth or she'd die. Her young body was hot all over and twitching with spasms of sensual awareness. She felt raw between her legs, knew that if Bill so much as touched her, she'd come all over the couch.
"See anything you like?" Bill asked teasingly, spreading his legs further.
That was all Ingrid could take. She was off the couch before she even knew she was moving and on her knees between the sexy blond man's muscular legs. She burrowed her face into his crotch, inhaling deeply, reveling in his musky scent. As she breathed it in, Ingrid was aware of the slight hint of urine smell mixed with the man sweat. She knew she was into a banquet. Darting her pink tongue out, she tickled it against Bill's balls. He groaned in anticipation. Now, Ingrid had her full, demanding lips against the heated testicles, kissing them, lavishing her love on them.
"Come on, Baby, eat them up. Swallow my nuts. Roll them around in your mouth. Come on, make me know you're there."
Ingrid opened her mouth wide and drew one of the bull-like balls inside her wet hot oral cavity. Grazing it lightly with her teeth, she licked at its bottom side, tasting and sa voring it. At the same time, she ran her slim fingers up and down the inner sides of the blond man's thighs.
Bill ran his hands through her long brown hair, at the same time pushing her head closer into his hot crotch, encouraging her to swallow more and more of his hairy scrotum. The heat of her greedy mouth shot crazy feelings through his male body. He had known some good cocksuckers in his time, but this girl was the best. Between her insisting tongue and her sharp teeth, she was driving his nuts to boiling. He could only imagine what she would do when she got to his throbbing, pulsing cock. She had only started on him, and already he felt ready to come. He knew that his uncircumcised cock was dripping clear fluid. It wouldn't be long before his first load was ripping out of him. He wasn't worried. Bill had the ability to come again and again in a heavy lovemaking session. Still, he now felt as if he could come again and again and forever without going dry.
Ingrid reached up and unsnapped the cutoffs. She was ready to take on Bill's hot dong, having had her fill of his huge balls. She licked and sucked them clean, enjoying their unique, sex-stimulating flavor. Right now, Ingrid was so worked up that if Bill as much as tickled her twat, he would have a handful of her sex-milk.
She unbuttoned the cutoffs and started to pull them down, at the same time reluctant to take her still-sucking mouth away from the huge, hot nuts. At last, she did, and as Bill lifted his buttocks off the chair, she pulled the pants down and let them fall around his ankles. Then she grabbed his cock between her fingers. The thing was almost ten inches long and now rigid as a spike. Ingrid was determined she would have that spike nailed into her before this session was over, but right now she was intent on milking the man's first sweet load down her throat. Examining the gorgeous tube carefully, she slicked the skin back with her fingers, exposing the purplish-red corona. She stared at the deep, winking slit, fascinated with the drop of clear fluid within it. Squeezing lightly she caused the jewel to come out onto the tip, where she caught it on her tongue, smacking her lips at the clean taste of it.
Making an oval of her red mouth, she capped it over the pulsing cock-tip. Slowly, she ran her tongue-tip over and over the satin-smooth knob. Bill was moaning and tossing his head from side to side. It could not be long before she would have what she wanted. She forced more and more of the long, silky-smooth shaft into her mouth. Whipping her tongue back and forth across it, she tasted more of the clear pre-cum as it leaked from the tiny slash in the tip. The blunt end of the giant thing hit the back of her oral cavity. Ingrid fought the urge to gag, and then managed to slide the head past the ridge at the back of her mouth and into her throat. She moved her jaw up and down causing her muscles to contract again and again around the immense mouthful of cock.
Bill's groans were heavier. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. No one had ever done it this well, this completely. He was a prisoner to Ingrid's mouth, and he loved it almost as much as she did.
Ingrid snaked her hand between Bill's legs. With her middle finger, she probed the crack in his hairy ass. Enjoying the tickling sensation added to all the other great feelings. Bill stretched his legs even wider, giving the brown-haired girl more complete access for her probing fingers. She found what she was looking for, Bill's tightly fluted anal button. Buffing it with the end of her finger, she made it relax bit by bit, so that she could work her way up inside him. Soon she had gotten his hole to accept the full length of her longest finger. She worked it around in the unbelievably smooth, hot flesh of his rectum, finding his walnut-sized prostate. Increasing the speed of her oral suction, she jabbed at the gland again and again, sending Bill over the brink. With a ragged yelp, he shot, filling her mouth and throat with jet after jet of streaming white cum.
Ingrid gulped down every hot drop, afraid that she might lose some of the liquid she loved so much. She kept sucking until she was certain she had drained it all.
"Now, Baby," Bill whispered, his voice husky, "lie back on the floor and let me get at you. I've been wanting to see you naked ever since you walked through the door. I'm going to drag your clothes off real slow. I'm going to unveil you bit by bit, and tease myself by looking at every inch of you. I'll be hard again in just a few minutes, you'll see."
Ingrid did as she was told, and lay back on the carpeting, her head propped up against the foot of the couch. The naked Bill, his limp cock shining and wet from her ministrations, knelt down beside her. His hands fell to her tits, and he caressed them lovingly, enjoying their feel of rubbery firmness. They were just the way he liked a woman's jugs to be, large but not enormous, not out of proportion with the rest of Ingrid's perfect body. Slowly, he slipped his hands up under the pale-blue sweater.
Wherever he touched her, Ingrid felt tiny flames. After giving Bill the blow-job, she was super-sensitive to every touch, every movement. She knew that if he merely brushed her erected clitoris, she could go into a whole series of wonderful, wracking climaxes. That, they could save for a few minutes. Now she was glorying in Bill's gentle touching and caressing.
His fingers found her firm nipples, and he pinched and played with them until they were so erect they hurt. Bill pushed her sweater up to expose her chest and breasts.
"There. That's what I've been dreaming about. Oh, God, what beautiful little babies those are. How about it, Ingrid? How about it, are you going to feed me with those gorgeous jugs? Are you going to let me have a little of your love-milk?"
"Sure, honey," Ingrid answered, her voice low and husky. "Here, take all you want." She grabbed her tits in her hands and held them up to him.
Without hesitation, Bill bent his head over them. First, he nuzzled his face in between them, while Ingrid pushed her beautiful boobs together. He let himself be almost smothered, between the wonderful, warm mountains. Next, he found the right nipple with his eager lips. He took the erect tab of flesh between them and, holding it tightly, raked his tongue across it again and again. Ingrid squirmed and groaned with pleasure. Bill opened his mouth wide to take in as much of the satiny flesh as possible. Then he began to suck. He ate and ate at the girl's beautiful tit, feeling as though he were feeding on the honey-flavored milk of a goddess.
"Bill, my baby, move to the other one now. Let the right one rest a little."
He did as she ordered, turning his attention to her erect, hard left pap, giving it the same treatment he had lavished on the first. At the same time, he allowed his hand to stray down Ingrid's taut belly. He ran his fingernails over it lightly, making the brown-haired girl moan and twist all the more. His fingers found the zipper of the tight, black skirt, and he eased it down. Slowly he began to push the skirt down and away from Ingrid's waist. She lifted her hips to make it easier for him. Soon the skirt was around her knees. She raised them and let it fall to her ankles. She wore only her garter belt, nylons, and black bikini.
His mouth still turning her left breast into a ball of flame, Bill found the garters one by one and loosened them. Then he slid the filmy stockings down Ingrid's shapely legs. At last he dragged his hot lips away from her tit and began deliberately to kiss his way southward. He moved down her ribcage, kissing and licking, turning her more and more into an animal with every movement.
Reaching her deeply indented navel, he thrust his long tongue into it, just as he had promised himself when he first laid eyes on it. He swirled his tongue around and around in the lovely depression, and then moved lower, where his lips encountered the elastic band of the black garter belt. Bill made a little game then of forcing his tongue under the edge, as if he were going to push the sexy little garment down Ingrid's body using only his pointed tongue to do so. Watching him at work, Ingrid began to giggle at the idea. Then she reached down and caught her thumbs under the belt. Stretching it so that it slid over the black bikini, she pushed it down over her thighs. Bill got up and moved between her legs. He grabbed the black garter belt from below and slid it down and away from her, throwing it in a heap with the black skirt. Ingrid noted with a thrill that his long cock was again completely rigid. No one would ever guess he had come his guts out only a few minutes ago. That was the way she liked her men, always ready for repeated wild action.
Kneeling between Ingrid's outstretched legs, Bill looked her over carefully once again.
"God, Ingrid, you are beautiful. I love everything about you, those wonderful big tits, your slim little waist, and now I'm ready to see the best part of all."
"I hope you want to do more than just see it."
"You sly little bitch you know I do. God, those black panties are sexy. They're so sheer, I can see your sweet little box right through them. It looks to me like you're really enjoying this. You've got your panties all wet. I'm just going to have to lick that all up."
Bill dropped his blond head to her crotch. Opening his mouth wide, he began to suck Ingrid's sex-juice out of the sheer black fabric. Smacking loudly, he twisted his face around in Ingrid's crotch, making sure he sucked up every bit of the musky liquid. She groaned as his nose came in contact with her painfully erect clit. Feeling it, Bill nudged his nose again and again against the woman's little bud. Just as if he had turned on an electric switch, sending thousands of volts of excitement through her, Ingrid screamed at the excruciating sensations which now ran throughout her supple body. Twisting around in agonized pleasure, she cried out again and again, her voice ragged with passion.
Knowing what he was doing to the girl made the blond Bill want to keep on eating her forever. He was in complete control, able to bring the ultimate in animal sexual fulfillment to this beautiful creature between whose long legs he was lying. He moved his hungry, hot mouth up to replace his nose. Taking care to cover Ingrid's enflamed clitoris, he blew his super-heated breath on it through the filmy black fabric.
Grabbing the bikini panties, he ripped them down, exposing the beautiful, hairy mound of Ingrid's tight box. He buried his face in it, intoxicated by the raw sexual scent of it. As he dug in further, his nose parting her pouting cunt lips, Ingrid came.
Once more she screamed out her lust, pouring her woman's cunt-milk out over Bill's eager face. He rubbed around in it, bathing his entire face in her musky liquor, licking at it, eagerly rubbing it on his cheeks, his smooth forehead, his chin. As he rubbed, Ingrid spiralled from climax to climax, pouring more and more sticky liquid out for Bill to enjoy. She could not believe that any man could be this skilled and could be this able to play her as if she were some sort of weird instrument, totally subject to his whim. Whatever magic Bill had, Ingrid was overjoyed that she had been able to help unlock it. God, to feel like this when he had not yet even made a move to fuck her. What would that be like? How would she react to that giant ten-inch prong being smashed in and out of her? She was determined to find out and soon.
"Bill," she said, all of her sensuality expressing itself in her low tones, "Bill, will you fuck me now? Are you ready? Can you shove it in me now?"
"Sure. I'm more than ready to fuck than I've ever been in my life. I can't wait until I'm buried in that soft, warm cunt of yours. I can taste how much I'm going to love it. Just eating you has made me so hot I'll come again all over the floor if I don't get into you right away."
He moved up her belly and lay on top of her. His lips found hers as they kissed, Ingrid could taste and smell her cunt juice on his face. She spread her legs wide and felt his impossibly long, thick cock pressed against her mound. She bent her knees to give him complete access to her. His rigid member began then to slide into her, almost of its own accord. God, it was so big, so thick, so filling. She felt it move in another inch and then another, making her body swallow all that pure pleasure.
"Oh, Baby," Bill growled. "You are smooth. Jesus, I've never felt anything so warm and so alive."
Ingrid's hot cunt clamped down against Bill's giant cock, molding itself exactly to the shape of his projection. She wanted all of the blond beauty, was determined to take in every inch of his gorgeous, throbbing stick. Suddenly, she felt his balls brush against her. She had him.
Bill held his cock still for a little, letting himself enjoy the incredible throbbing heat surrounding it. Then, very slowly, he began withdrawing from her, slipping his cock out, bit by bit, savoring the feeling of it rubbing against Bill's satin-smooth tube. At last, only the tip was still enclosed, gripped tightly between the girl's shivering cunt lips.
Without warning, Bill shoved in again, full length, burying his cock to the hairy hilt. Rotating his muscular hips, he moved himself around in Ingrid's tiny space. She groaned in pleasure. He kept it up, working from side to side and up and down, still keeping his steel-hard shaft in the full ten inches. Ingrid tossed her head back and forth and spittle drooled out of the comer of her sensuous mouth. She was completely the prisoner of Bill's probing, rubbing tool. She was sure he was rubbing her guts raw, and she loved it. Suddenly, surprising even her, Ingrid exploded into another series of wracking climaxes. She squirmed and twisted under the weight of Bill's hot, sweating body, carried away by pure, undiluted sex.
"Oh, Baby, Baby, that's the way I like you, good and wet. Give my cock a bath. That's it. Oh, yeah. Drown it in your cum. Oh, Jesus, how that feels."
Bill began pulling his dong out almost all the way and then spearing it back in again. He groaned at the sensation of the tight channel being pushed aside by his blunt cock head. Gradually, his pace increased. Faster and faster he jabbed in and out. His low-hanging balls drew up tight against the base of his slippery wet cock, getting ready to fire their white hot load up the woman's chute. Bill's breathing grew more and more labored. The sweat was pouring off him, lubricating the places where their heated bodies touched, allowing them to slide freely against each other.
The flames licked at his balls and spiraled through his tight groin. His moment was there. With a ragged moan, he shot jet after starchy jet of thick white love-juice into Ingrid's sucking hole. She felt him spraying it inside her, felt as though it were shooting clear into her stomach. Again and again, he shot, emptying every drop of precious cum out of his heavy balls.
He collapsed on top of her, and the two of them lay there, enjoying the heat of each other's sensitive body.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Bill," Ingrid whispered after a while, "shouldn't we see that landlady about the apartment?"
"Yeah, sure. I guess we should." Bill reluctantly lifted his body. He knelt between Ingrid's legs, looking up at her. "Jesus, you are some woman. I could go at you all over again."
"Maybe later. Right now, I'd like to take a quick shower and get this apartment thing settled. Then maybe we can come back here and you'll help me break in my new bed. Ok?"
"Fine. You know where the bathroom is.
I'll get some fresh towels for you, that is if I can remember where I packed the towels."
"I'll need a big one to wrap my hair in. No sense waiting around for that to dry."
"There's a fairly clean one hanging on the door knob that you can use for that."
Bill watched Ingrid's back as she trotted to the bathroom. Her buns jiggled invitingly. Boy, would he like to get his cock between those, just the way he did with the big blond downstairs. He wondered if Ingrid would go for ass-fucking. A lot of girls didn't, he had discovered. In fact, one very special one had broken their engagement over his mere suggestion of it. He smiled as he remembered what a hard time he'd had explaining that to his parents. They had been all set for a big wedding, and then, for no reason that was apparent, the whole business fell through. Well, that's the way it goes sometimes, he thought. Besides, if he had married her, look at all he would have missed.
Bill rummaged through the boxes stacked in the living room and found two bath towels. He heard the shower start as he walked to the bathroom. Pushing the door open he shouted. "Here are the towels. Hey, do you mind if I jump in there with you? It won't do to have Mrs. DeSanto talk to me when I smell like this."
"Sure. Help yourself."
He pushed back the shower curtain and slipped into the steamy enclosure with Ingrid. Once again, he was captivated by the sight of her slim, firm body. He watched the water droplets cascade down it in tiny rivers. Without thinking, he dipped his head to catch the stream falling off her right nipple. She pushed him away.
"Hey, start that again and we'll never get to see the landlady."
"Who cares?"
"I do. There's plenty of time later. Here, get under the water." She stepped aside to let Bill get the full force of the shower. In the meantime, she soaped herself all over. Turning her back to him, she asked, "Would you do my back for me?"
"Sure. Glad to." He grabbed the soap and, starting with the back of her neck, worked his lather-covered hands over her shoulders and down her back, taking time to feel and appreciate every muscle through the soft, smooth flesh.
"Hm, God, Bill, you have a real touch. I love the way you move your hands on me. Don't stop."
"Don't worry, honey. I won't ever stop. We'll just stay here forever, and I'll keep petting your back for as long as you'll let me."
"But if we stay here forever, we'll never get to see the landlady."
"Screw the landlady."
"That's not what I had in mind. If there's any screwing to be done, do it to me."
Bill kept his hands working on Ingrid's back, moving lower and lower. His cock was beginning to rise again, anticipating another session, even a quick one, right here in the shower. Applying ore soap to his palms, he began lathering Ingrid's pert little buns, running his hands over and over the smooth orbs.
This special attention was more than Ingrid could resist. Her hands fell to her pussy and she began massaging it as Bill tantalized her backside.
"Oh, Bill, that feels so good. Oh, keep it up."
Bill let his fingers slide into the crack. Ingrid shivered at the intimate touch. He slipped them up and down the hairless seam, until he found the girl's tight little shithole. Carefully, he began working one finger into the tiny lens. With his other hand, he reached around and cupped Ingrid's full breast. Little by little, he worked his finger further and further up her anus. As she continued to rub her own cunt, Ingrid backed against Bill's hand, causing more and more of his finger to disappear up her ass. Bill poked it in and out, finger-fucking the brown-haired girl's asshole. Then, he added a second finger, carefully working the two into her, stretching her for what he hoped would follow.
Ingrid moaned at the feeling of being opened up from behind. Her thumb and forefinger closed around her swollen clit, and she shivered at the sensations it sent whipping through her guts. Bill felt her anus relax and accept his probing fingers.
Taking his hand away from her tit, he scooped some of the lather from her back and applied it to his rigid prick. Then he bent her forward, pulled his fingers out, and replaced them with the blunt head of his uncut cock. Ingrid jerked in surprise.
"Hush, Baby, just relax. Just be as relaxed as can be. Daddy's not going to hurt you. I'll take it real slow. I'll just ease it into you. It'll feel really good. Just relax."
Bill pushed against the tiny brownish hole, slowly forcing it to accept his bulbous cock tip.
Pain ripped through Ingrid's behind. She had never felt anything like it. This maniac was ripping her apart. No one had ever tried this with her. She did her best to fight the panic down. After all, several of her girl friends had told her about this, and about how they had grown to love it. Some claimed that they liked it better, found it more thrilling than regular fucking. She gritted her teeth against the pain. They said that if you waited long enough, did your best to endure the pain, it disappeared. She wondered how this could be, it hurt so. She braced her hand against the wall of the shower and concentrated on relaxing her lower body. Bill continued pushing it slowly, the steamy water cascading over his back.
Fucking a beautiful woman in the ass in the middle of a tropical rainstorm, that's what he imagined he was doing. He was an explorer giving it to a black-skinned native girl, giving it to her the way only a true primitive could understand. Now, he was all the way in, his balls resting against the girl, his cock hair grinding into her tender buttocks. He held very still, gripping her hips so that she could not get away.
At that moment, Ingrid's pain disappeared. It was replaced by an incredible, fulfilling warmth. She wanted the moment to last forever. She wanted this man's throbbing cock shoved up her until she died from it.
"Fuck me," she hissed. "Fuck my ass. Ream me out good. Give me a load of red-hot spunk right up the bung. Fuck me hard."
Bill pulled out quickly, brutally, letting only his tip remain inside. Then, flexing his muscular buttocks, he drove back into her, once again grinding his wiry cock fuzz into her soft ass cheeks. In and out, in and out he ripped, fucking ass from every possible angle. He reached both hands around and grabbed Ingrid's dripping cunt, jamming his fingers into it, stretching it open and clawing at it.
Ingrid groaned as she felt herself being stuffed full of Bill front and back. She let herself fall into a raging whirlpool of raw emotion. She was a naked beast being used by a rogue male of her kind, being stripped of all sexual being for his pleasure to be thrown aside like an empty husk when he had finished with her. She loved it. She could never get enough of this. She wished she had him in her mouth and ears and in every available orifice. She wished there were a hundred hard-cocked men here, and that she could have all of them inside her at once.
Bill's fingers found her clit. He grabbed it roughly and pinched it between demanding fingers.
"Come on, you bitch, boil over. Come on, whore, drench me with your stuff. I'm going to rip it out of you, whore, fucking bitch."
He kept pinching her enflamed clit while he continued to slam his steely pole in and out of her gripping ass. Plastering himself against her bent-over body, he started biting at her back, like a tomcat mounting a female in heat.
All at once, Ingrid climaxed, soaking Bill's groping hands with her sex-juice. The climax shuddered through her hot body, and the contractions in her asshole bore down on his engorged cock, squeezing it even tighter than before. He came, pumping gallons of white liquid deep into her bowels. Forcing his way in as far as possible, he unloaded every drop, draining his huge balls completely.
Slowly he pulled out of her. They cleaned themselves up and finished their shower.
Mrs. DeSanto peered through the crack in her door. All Ingrid could see of her was one shining black eye and part of a huge, hooked nose.
"Yeah, what is it you want, hey?"
"Mrs. DeSanto, this is Ingrid Martin. She wants to sublet my apartment. Can we come in?"
"Yeah, I suppose you come in. Just a minute you."
She slammed the door, and they heard the chain lock clatter. The woman opened the door again. She was huge, her immense tits sagging to her waist, which was, itself, defined only by her striped apron's being tied there. Her greasy black hair was pulled back in a large bun.
"So, come in. Who is this?"
"Ingrid Martin. She wants to take my apartment."
"You got husband?"
"No, I'm single."
"No, I'm not rent to single woman. No good."
"What?"
"I mean what I say. Single woman no good. All the time come home late. Not pay rent. No man to pay."
"I work. I have a steady job. If I couldn't pay my own rent, I wouldn't consider an apartment of my own."
"No good. Come home late. All the time men in and out, in and out. All around, day and night, men. Why you no got husband?"
"Well, I, I'm not ready to get married. I'm only nineteen."
"Nineteen? Nineteen? Why you looking for apartment anyhow? Why you no live home with parents? They dead?"
"No, they're fine. I live with them now."
"And what is wrong with that? Why you want move? You got something you want to hide, girl? You hide somewhere else, not in my place."
"Now, look here, Mrs. DeSanto," Bill said. "You have no right to talk to anyone like that. Miss Martin is of age. She has a right to live where she likes."
"Not in my building she don't. This is my place. No take young, single girls. Trouble. Nineteen! Whoever heard, nineteen! No good."
Ingrid turned away. "Come on, Bill. Let's get away from here."
"But, Ingrid, she has no right to talk to you like this."
"Of course she hasn't. That's why I'm leaving. I wouldn't live here with her in the house, even if she did want to rent to me, the old sow."
"No good!" yelled Mrs. DeSanto, and slammed the door behind them.
"God, Ingrid, I'm sorry. I had no idea the old battle axe would react like that."
"That's OK, Bill, it's not your fault. I suppose I'll run into that kind of attitude now and then. Can't be helped."
"Look, how about another drink? Come on back to my place."
"Thanks, Bill, but no thanks. I think I've had enough for one day. I'm going home."
"Listen, I can't just let you go away this way. How about if we get it together and I take you out to dinner? There's a great little Chinese place just around the comer. What do you say?"
"No, Bill. Thanks for the offer, but no."
"But I might never see you again."
"That's right, Bill. Good-bye and thanks for everything."
She opened the front door and walked out, leaving Bill standing in the hall looking after her.
Ingrid walked to her car, unlocked it, and drove off. She had been so shocked by Mrs. DeSanto's behavior and accusations, she had not known what to do. Of course she wanted an apartment so that she could have men there. Of course she had something to hide from her parents. She had been hiding her sexual adventures from them for years, and she was damn sick of it. Why couldn't people just understand that? Maybe everyone was not as sexually oriented as she. Sex was on her mind day and night and had been since she had first noticed that lovely bulge that boys carried around in their pants.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WANTED roommate. Must be liberal, age twenty to thirty. Share apartment with recent divorcee. Call Valerie Douglas 2628843.
Ingrid read the ad with interest. She had not thought about rooming with someone. That might not be a bad idea, she thought. It would certainly be cheapter than maintaining an apartment alone. The only problem, really, as far as she was concerned, was that a roommate might get in the way of her bedroom entertaining. That would be no better than living at home. But, she decided, the only way to find that out was to talk to the person, Valerie Douglas, and lay it straight on the line. At least the ad did stipulate that the roommate must be liberal. Besides, Valerie Douglas, whoever she was, had not used abbreviations in the ad. Somehow, Ingrid thought, that showed a little class.
Anyway, the ad deserved a call.
They agreed to meet on Ingrid's lunch hour the next day. That way they could determine whether or not they liked each other before touring Valerie's apartment. Valerie had described herself to Ingrid and said she would meet her at the front door of the Bank Club, a chic restaurant on Grand Avenue.
The two women liked each other immediately.
"Let's go in, shall we? I'm famished," Val said.
They were escorted to the table by the head waiter. They ordered cocktails and made small talk before Ingrid finally said, "Look, your ad said you wanted someone liberal. I take it that means you have no objections to living with a swinger."
"Not at all," Val smiled. "Are you a swinger, Ingrid?"
"Am I ever."
"Good. So am I. At least I've recently become one. I haven't really got used to the idea that I'm free, yet. But maybe someone like you could help me with that."
"You're straight, right? I mean ... you like men...?"
"Yes," Val laughed. "I adore men."
"The more the merrier?"
"That seems to be my problem lately." Val wasn't smiling when she said this.
"Well, you sure can't be having problems getting studs. Not the way you look." Ingrid leaned back to look Valerie over.
"No. I guess I'm just getting worried that I'm becoming a nympho or something."
"You know," Ingrid said, raising her glass in a toast, "I think we're gonna get along just fine."
Ingrid moved in the next day, and Valerie planned a welcoming party for her. They both invited everyone they knew ... at least everyone that loved to ball, as they both did.
It started out as a planned bring your own bottle party, but it was hardly under way when it became clear that there was not just booze in the supply. The thick odor of pot became stronger and stronger.
Ingrid introduced Val to a tall, handsome college senior. And Val felt herself fall in love. Perhaps for the first time in her life. His name was Jamie, and he maneuvered Val into a comer where they could talk. Jamie let go of Val's hand to bend down and pick up a bottle of Seagram's Seven Crown that someone had left leaning against the wall. He poured them both two shot drinks. Behind her, Val could see the other couples at the party. They were broken up in small groups, spread throughout the rooms. She could see Ingrid and a young man named Jerry sitting over on the couch with another couple she didn't recognize. The four were passing the same cigarette back and forth among them. There was another couple on the floor beside them But Val couldn't make out who they were because they were covered with a blanket. A blanket that moved in an even, wave-like rhythm.
Jamie stood up and blocked Val's line of vision. He was smiling as he handed her the drink.
"You're older than Ingrid, aren't you?" he asked.
"Old enough," Val answered, looking into his blue eyes. "Good."
Jamie took her hand again, and she felt the delicate, warm movements of his fingers against the palm of her hand. "Why don't we go down on the beach and get away from all this for a while," he suggested. He punctuated the question with a squeeze of her hand.
Val's head was beginning to spin a little, perhaps from the drinks, perhaps from the pot in the air, or perhaps from the sudden lusty need to be touched by this gorgeous hunk of man. She nodded silently and they walked, hand-in-hand, down to the beach, two blocks away. The accidental brushes of his body against hers began to happen more and more frequently as they arrived on the sand and shed their shoes. The mere touch of his body excited Valerie, and she could feel the crotch of her panties getting wet in anticipation.
Soon the tug of his arm guiding her down left her in a kneeling position on the sand. Then he was on top of her, between her legs, and they were kissing. At first her dizzy mind thought they were fucking, and her pussy gripped tightly in spasms of excitement, but then as her head cleared she realized he wasn't yet in her, just humping slowly against her.
Someone put on a radio down the beach a ways, and she would hear the gentle sounds of the song Evergreen. It was to be a song and a moment she would never forget for the rest of her life. The music sounded so small and far away in the emptiness of the night. Her need for him seemed to be popping out of her stomach like bubbles of lust. She sucked deep at his tongue in a long, hot kiss. Her nipples got hard and tingled and she felt her body coloring with the mood, as though she were a sponge, sopping up her passion. Her mouth was wet and hot against his. Without thinking, letting her passion rule her, she reached down between their bodies and put her hand on the head of his throbbing cock. It was hard and thick under her fingers, and she rubbed her hand up and down over the material of his pants. Then she felt her breast being drawn out into the cool night breeze, and Jamie's tongue curled around the stiff nipple, flicking it wetly. She felt his warm breath against the flesh of her tit as his teeth ground erotically back and forth, gently biting into her nipple, and Valerie began to jerk her hand up and down violently on his cock. There was a thin film of saliva spread all across the tip of her breast.
"Hmmm, yesss," she hissed, and slid her head down under his body, her mouth searching for what her hand held. Jamie rolled over on his back and Val leaned over his belly. Jamie's penis sprang erect before her face.
Jamie hunched up his hips and pushed it toward her mouth. He was excited, and she could feel him trembling under her grip. His hard-on looked like a long, thick silhouette against the shadows of the beach, and Val moved her open lips toward its swollen head.
She felt the shaft slip past her lips, scraping lightly by her teeth, then press heavily against her tongue.
The flesh was hot, and she licked at the sweet taste of Jamie's young, athletic body.
Her lips tightened around the sides, and she plunged her face down the shaft, feeling mad excitement as it slid in and out of her mouth. His hands were in her hair urging her on. She could feel the meat throbbing against her lips as she felt his hand slide hotly over the cheeks of her buttocks until one of his thick fingers was delving gently into her pussy. He moved the finger in slow circles as she sucked him off and jerked him off at the same time. Val felt the lips of her vagina shut quiveringly tight around his finger, sucking it up inside of her.
The pleasure was almost driving her out of her mind, and she moaned at the wet, slurping sounds of her sucking mouth. Then Valerie swung around on top of him and pressed her pussy back against his face, locking his head with her thighs, and she could feel Jamie's mouth being crushed against her crotch. She felt the wet, moving lick of his tongue for what seemed like a century, before she screamed, "Fuck me!" and pulled her lips from him.
Jamie did just that, and he continued to do that for the next two years. He moved in with her and Ingrid the next day and lived there during his post-graduate school years.
Valerie loved him from the beginning moment to the last, but she never married him, although he asked her to often.
You see, that would have brought the story full circle. Like Jordan Douglas, Jamie now had his Masters in Philosophy, and he was standing each week on the unemployment line, waiting for his check.
That, understandably, frightened the hell out of Valerie.
