There is a popular children's story about a city mouse with a country cousin. Each made a short visit to the home of the other and found it impossible to survive there. Like most children's stories, the message is deep, and the moral far more profound than would appear at first glance. For even in a civilization like ours, where instantaneous mass communication via the electronic marvels of radio and television is possible, the city and the country still represent two completely different lifestyles.
Yet, as our society becomes more and more mobile, clashes between them are inevitable. Jets of steadily increasing size and carrying capacity now make it possible to cross the nation in less than five hours. And as a result, millions of Americans are finding ways and means to travel from their native environs to find out how "the other half" lives.
On any evening of the year, visitors to New York City, for example, can be seen standing on Broadway, Manhattan's gay white way, shaking their heads in wonderment and talking about what a nice place New York is to visit. But the phrase which finishes that observation is highly significant: "But I wouldn't want to live here."
The needs of a fluid society, however, make it increasingly necessary for great numbers of Americans to change their locations in search of better jobs and better circumstances. Often, they are forced to change their lifestyles as well. But these aren't as easily altered as a location or an occupation. And so every year, growing numbers of people find themselves lost and confused, forced to live in those sprawling concrete jungles which they characterize so glibly as nice places to visit. And for those who come straight from the country, the transition is usually a difficult one to make.
This book, the searing work of author Donna Paradise, is a penetrating study of the cultural shock which so often accompanies a forced change in lifestyle. It is a story of two couples. Ralph Bronson, the photographer who makes his living shooting pornography, and Marilyn, his attractive helpmate, are from the big city, having met in Los Angeles, where Marilyn worked as a model. Teddy Dale, the adolescent sailor who has been in the Navy only a short time, and Ellen, his bride of two months, are from the country, having grown up together in Davis, Wisconsin, a small farming community in America's fertile Midwest.
They meet in the suburban no man's land of hills and mountains just north of the Mexican border near the City of San Diego. And the meeting changes their lives. Like a rabbit under the hypnotic spell of the fast and deadly coyote, Ellen is entranced by Marilyn and her city ways. Like a wild beast of prey, Marilyn in turn is captivated by the purity and innocence of her new acquaintance.
The results of their meeting and its effects on the two pairs of protagonists are the basis for this gripping tale of action and suspense. The novel culminates in a shocking ending which brings the author's statement together dramatically and graphically. Like the events in this story, life is sometimes violent and sometimes arousing. And although there is little that anyone can do to change the basic nature of human existence, it is our sincere hope that the readers of this book will gain something which makes life just a little easier to understand.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
Marilyn rinsed the dishes quickly while she gazed out the window of her tiny kitchen at the spectacular southern California sunset. The evening sky was streaked with purple and crimson as the shimmering orange sun sank slowly behind the golden, boulder-strewn hills which surrounded the cottage. The rooms might be small, and the roof might leak occasionally, but whenever Marilyn looked out at the ruggedly rolling landscape, she felt as though she and Ralph were living in baronial splendor.
Nestled among the rock and chaparral which adorned the hills on the California side of the
Mexican border forty miles east of San Diego, their three-room cabin offered as much isolation as anyone living in southern California could ever hope for. After spending the first twenty-four years of her life struggling for a little elbow-room in the sprawling but overpopulated megalopolis of Los Angeles, the solitude of rural life s constituted a kind of paradise which she hoped never to leave.
Marilyn had always dreamed of living in the country, but it wasn't until she met Ralph, seven months before, that her dream had any chance of ever becoming a reality. She had been supporting herself ever since her parents died in an auto accident shortly after her seventeenth birthday. Turning down offers to stay with members of her mother's family, Marilyn had dropped out of school and gone to work, taking whatever jobs she could find. She waited on tables, answered telephones, and even washed cars. But she barely earned enough to pay her rent, and rarely held a job for more than a few weeks at a time.
Then, one day, she saw a "want ad" which caught her eye and fired her imagination. EARN TEN DOLLARS AN HOUR, it said. NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY. FIGURE MODELS WANTED. MUST HAVE PRETTY FACE AND GOOD FIGURE. APPLY IN PERSON. Marilyn read the ad over and over again, finally putting down the newspaper to stand in front of a mirror and study her reflection anxiously. At the age of eighteen, she had a blossoming womanly figure which drew appreciative stares from men wherever she went.
She was just five-foot-two, with a willowy body which tapered at the waist and flared sensuously at the hips and bottom. Her breasts were full and perfectly rounded, filling the front of her sweater with twin balls of resilient flesh which thrust straight out from the smooth plane of her chest. Her long red hair framed a lightly freckled gamin face, making her soft skin appear white and virginal next to the burnished brilliance of her silken tresses.
She had always been considered pretty, and she knew that her figure was good. But modeling was something that she had never even considered. For one thing, most of the models she had seen in magazines were tall and slender with flat little asses and almost nonexistent bosoms. She was certain that her firmly rounded buttocks and pendulous tits would disqualify her immediately. Yet the possibility of earning ten dollars an hour overcame her lack of confidence and made her decide to apply anyway. I've got nothing to lose, she told herself. It won't be the first job I've been turned down for.
Certain that she was wasting her time, Marilyn dressed in her tightest sweater and shortest miniskirt, assuming that a "figure model" should be prepared to reveal as much as possible. She brushed her soft red hair until it shone like the sun. Then, carrying the folded newspaper under her arm, she rode the bus to the address given in the ad.
The building was an old one, in a neighborhood which hung poised between deteriorating residential and low-rent commercial. It was flanked by a garishly advertised massage parlor on one side and a sleazy looking tavern on the other. A brightly painted sign proclaiming, FIGURE MODELING STUDIO-GROUP SESSIONS $7.50 PER HOUR, adorned the building's battered facade. Marilyn climbed a long flight of dusty stairs, with no idea of what to expect at the top.
At the head of the stairs was a glass door, rendered opaque by a carelessly applied layer of black paint. A small cardboard sign which was taped to the glass read, MR. PEEPER'S STUDIO. COME IN. Taking a deep breath in an effort to calm her jittery nerves, Marilyn reached for the handle and pushed the glass door open. Just inside the door was an ancient wooden desk, its top littered with papers and photographs. Behind it sat a young girl in a blonde wig. She was about the same age as Marilyn, but her face wore a hard and tired expression, making her appear much older than she actually was.
Marilyn did a double take when she saw that the girl was dressed in nothing more than a lacy black brassiere and matching panties. When she saw Marilyn, she affected a mechanical welcoming smile and said, "Hello. May I help you?"
"I don't know," Marilyn answered. "I came about the ad in today's paper. Do you know whether the job has been filled?"
The girl smirked. "There's always room for another," she answered. "Step into the other room and undress. Miss Terhune will be with you in a moment."
"Undress?" Marilyn echoed, flustered by the unusual instruction. "You mean take my clothes off?"
"Of course," answered the girl. "This is a figure studio. But don't worry about it. Nothing will happen to you. Miss Terhune is strictly business."
For a moment, Marilyn thought of turning on her heel and running back down the stairs and into the street. But the thought of multiplying her present income by five kept her rooted to the spot. There's no harm in going through with the interview, she thought. I can always back out later. "All right," she said. "Where do I go?"
"Through there," said the scantily clad receptionist, jerking her thumb towards a doorway behind her. "I'll tell Miss Terhune that you're waiting."
Marilyn walked uneasily through the door, closing it behind her. She found herself in a small, windowless room. Against the far wall was a leopard upholstered couch surrounded by floodlights mounted on stands. Dropping her newspaper onto a chair, she reached for the buttons at the front of her sweater. She opened them quickly, shrugging out of the clinging garment and dropping it on top of the newspaper. Then, unzipping the side of her short skirt, she let it fall around her ankles and stepped out of it, bending to retrieve it from the floor and folding it neatly before placing it on the chair next to her sweater.
She kept her underwear on, preferring not to be totally nude when meeting her prospective employer for the first time. Even if she was Miss Terhune and strictly business. She glanced quickly down at her body, glad that she had chosen to wear her prettiest brassiere, a red satin wisp which stretched tightly across the swollen mounds of her tits, separating and uplifting them erotically. Her panties, a brief triangle of taut cloth, were also red, though not really a match for the bra. She paced nervously, wondering what Miss Terhune would be like and trying to imagine, for the first time, what a figure model was expected to do.
Marilyn didn't have long to wait. Just moments after she had stepped out of her skirt, she heard the doorknob rattling and knew that someone was about to enter. Taking a deep breath, and holding it to emphasize the fullness of her ripe young bosom, she turned to face the door. She put on her prettiest smile, remembering all that she had learned about job interviews and knowing that first impressions are extremely important. But when the door opened and her interviewer entered the room, the smile froze to Marilyn's face.
"Miss Terhune" turned out to be Mister Hune, a heavy set man of about thirty-five with a balding head and black moustache. And, although his intentions may have been strictly business, his eyes glittered with a lustful sparkle which frightened and unnerved the young girl. Instinctively, she crossed her arms in front of her breasts, trying to shield them from his penetrating stare. "Ooooh," she gasped. "I thought . . ."
But the man interrupted her. "Don't try to hide it, honey," he said. "I like the way it looks. Show me the rest."
"I didn't know," Marilyn stuttered. "I thought the girl out front said you were Miss somebody. I mean . . . I . . ."
Mister Hune laughed. "Say no more," he said. "This isn't the draft board. You're free to change your mind any time you want." He began to turn toward the door, reaching for the handle and preparing to leave the room. "Nice meeting you, uh. . . ."
"Marilyn," she answered instinctively. Then, feeling that she owed him some sort of explanation, she added, "It isn't that I've changed my mind." She was searching frantically for words to explain her confusion. "I guess I just didn't realize what figure modeling was all about."
"Too bad," Hune replied, turning to face her again. "Because it looks to me like you've got what it takes. If you weren't so afraid to show it, the job would be yours."
"It would?" she asked, forgetting her modesty long enough to drop her hands to her sides. "At ten dollars an hour?"
"Well, let's not jump the gun," he said. "Are you interested or aren't you?"
"I ... I don't know," she stammered. "What would I have to do?"
"Easiest work in the world," he answered. "You take off your clothes and pose in the raw for a bunch of lecherous old men with Polaroid cameras. Most of the time they don't even bother to put film in 'em. But if you're squeamish about showing your body, forget it." He started for the door again. But this time his gesture was a calculated one. At least half of the girls who got this far took the bait. And he was sure that Marilyn would be one of those.
"Wait," she said, a note of urgency coming into her voice. "Is that all I'd be expected to do?"
"Absolutely," he answered. "This place is strictly legit. No hanky-panky of any kind. And absolutely no mingling with the customers allowed." The last part wasn't completely true, , since Hune didn't really give a damn about what his girls did in their spare time. He knew that most of them peddled a little ass on the side, but nobody could accuse him of having anything to do with that. What they did after hours was their own business. "Well, what do you say?" he demanded. "I haven't got all day."
"All right," Marilyn said, her nervous voice only a little louder than a whisper. "I'll try it." With trembling fingers, she reached behind her for the clasp of her bra, fumbling with it for a moment; stalling, pretending to be unable to find it. Then, when Mister Hune allowed his face to cloud over with an impatient expression, she quickly unsnapped it, freeing her swollen tits from the prison of the bra's confinement.
Hune inhaled sharply through his teeth as her naked boobs rolled from side to side before they settled into place once more. They were full and well-rounded, with large red nipples which were the size of half dollars and the color of late summer roses. She'll do very nicely, he thought. But he kept his face impassive and said, "The drawers too, please." His cock was beginning to stir inside his pants, it bulbous head straining at the coarse material. He bent one knee in an effort to prevent his stiffening organ from tenting too obviously at the crotch of his trousers.
Marilyn bit her lip in an effort to control her embarrassment. She felt a crimson blush spreading across her face, neck, and shoulders as the potbellied man examined her nudity with beady eyes which darted and flitted across the curves of her body. Reaching for the waistband of her panties, she hooked it with her thumbs, trying not to notice Mister Hune watching each of her moves with breathless anticipation. She had once taken off all of her clothes at a nude beach a few miles north of Los Angeles. But then the crowds of people which thronged the public beach had sheltered her, lending her an anonymity which seemed to protect her from prying eyes. Somehow this was very different.
Steeling herself by drawing a deep breath and holding it, she looked at the floor as she peeled the flimsy panties from her body. She felt the air of the room caressing the nakedness of her hips and belly as the wispy red undergarment pulled lower and lower. Then, with a sweeping movement of her arms, she drew them from her completely, baring her hair-lined pussy to his view.
"Turn around, please," he said, licking his dry and cracking lips with a nervous gesture of his tongue. "I have to see it all. The customers will want to, you know."
Marilyn turned slowly in place, trying not to meet his eyes with her own. She felt his stare burning into the naked softness of her buttocks. He continued to caress her visually, as she moved exposing each portion of her lasciviously naked body to his critical examination. Hune felt his throat becoming dry, the muscles of his larynx contracting in a futile effort to swallow the trickle of saliva which continued to flow inside his mouth. Finally, in a hoarsely croaking whisper, he said, "All right, Marilyn. You've got the job. You start tomorrow at noon. Don't be late!"
Moving quickly, as though he suddenly remembered an important engagement, he turned and fled from the room, leaving Marilyn alone with her confused thoughts. The promise of big money filled her consciousness, helping her to forget the embarrassment which she had felt a few minutes before. By noon the next day, she was completely prepared, both psychologically and emotionally, for her new career.
Ten dollars an hour turned out to be a pie-in-the-sky promise for a future that never materialized. But even four dollars an hour, her starting salary, was more than twice what she was accustomed to earning. And she really didn't mind the work at all, after a while. Most of the old men who paid to ogle her were sweet, harmless, and pleasant enough. She soon learned to stop feeling embarrassed at her nakedness. When people asked her what she did for a living, she told them only that she was a model.
And, in fact, it wasn't long before she started getting some real modeling assignments, supplementing her weekly salary with extra money on a more-or-less regular basis. She was listed with at least half a dozen agencies and remained available for magazine layouts, lipstick ads, and anything else that came her way. But no one agency had an exclusive on her. She was strictly freelance, and she liked it like that.
She ran her love life the same way, sleeping with an occasional photographer or model's agent, but giving no one the exclusive right to possess her body. Until she met Ralph Bronson, seven months ago!
She was doing a "cheesecake" spread for one of the dozen or so L. A.-based girlie magazines which regularly availed themselves of her talents. This one was a pulp which ran black and white pictures of bare-assed and bare-breasted women to illustrate its badly written, semi-pornographic articles and stories. Dressed in a flimsy bikini, Marilyn waited for the photographer who was almost half an hour late.
While they waited, the layout men and assistant, editors who filled the studio gathered around her, posing and re-posing her while they pretended to discuss the layout. Marilyn knew that they were just jockeying for a better look down the front of her bikini bra and she had nothing but contempt for their clumsy, schoolboy subterfuges. Being looked at didn't bother her in the least. In fact, in a perversely exhibitionist way, she had come to like it. But these flunkies and hangers-on weren't even as honest, in their lechery, as the old men who haunted Mr. Peeper's figure studio with their empty cameras and bulging trousers. And she despised them for their weakness and loathed them for their shame.
By the time the photographer arrived, she had been directed into so many different positions that she was already tired. She resolved to give him a piece of her mind. But when Ralph Bronson strode into the studio, carrying a huge black camera case and wearing a friendly but confident grin, Marilyn's angry words stuck in her throat. There was something about the intense-looking young photographer which intrigued and fascinated her.
He wasn't exactly handsome, standing just five foot seven with a muscular, stocky body which was covered with a thick growth of curly black hair. But something about his swarthy skin and dark flashing eyes gave him a sexy and mysterious appearance which immediately robbed her of her anger. Without wasting words, he set up his cameras and began to work, directing Marilyn's poses with a series of monosyllabic grunts and abrupt jerks of his head. As she fell into her standard repertoire of classic cheesecake poses, she forgot the indignant speech which she had been rehearsing for the past ten minutes.
Ralph Branson was a man who was obviously in control of his situation, and somehow she couldn't bring herself to argue with him. When he murmured, "Strip, please," she peeled off her bikini gladly, anxious for an opportunity to display her voluptuous body to his professional inspection. But he hardly seemed to notice her. He moved swiftly from one camera to another, composing his pictures in a way that would make the hackneyed poses look fresh and creative when they appeared on the pages of the magazine which had hired them both. . Like Marilyn, Ralph had been on his own since his teens, having gone off to live by himself when his widowed mother married a man with whom he didn't see eye to eye. He had always managed to earn his living with his cameras, going the whole route from wedding pictures to baby portraits, work which often required more selling than picture taking. When he met Marilyn he was twenty-seven, making the bulk of his living by photographing tits and asses for any publication willing to pay his price. He was a tough young freelancer who valued his independence more than money and enjoyed his work, having polished his craft until it gleamed with the brilliance of creative art.
Marilyn was impressed with him, both as a photographer and as a man. When he asked her to join him for dinner, she accepted immediately. Afterwards, they went directly to his apartment where they mad violent love for hours, rolling passionately on the surface of his king-sized mattress until they had fucked themselves into a state of exhaustion. Marilyn spent the night at Ralph's apartment. And the next night. And the one after that. After a week, it became clear to both of them that they were going to be together for a long time.
A month later, a publisher Ralph knew offered him an opportunity to break away from city life and try something new. The publisher would furnish Ralph with a cabin in the country-rent free-and a list of available models. In return, Ralph would shoot pictures to illustrate a series of sex books which the publisher was planning. The pay was good and the living would be easy, but Ralph refused to commit himself until he had an opportunity to discuss the offer with Marilyn.
When she heard about it, she jumped at the chance. It would mean getting away from the city which she hated, and having an opportunity to breath good, clean country air. And best of all, it would mean that she and Ralph could spend almost all of their time together. Now, staring up at the thick white Milky Way which lit the sky over their little cabin in the hills, Marilyn murmured a silent prayer of gratitude for the good fortune which had brought them together and which had led them to this place.
She could hear Ralph moving about in his dark-room as he put the finishing touches on his day's work. A moment later, his door opened and she was conscious of his footsteps approaching her from behind. She pretended not to notice, busying herself with a dish and a sponge. Suddenly, he was behind her, his arms encircling her torso and his hands cupping the softness of her tits through the silky material of her blouse.
Her nipples began to harden immediately as his fingers moved slowly across the resilient surface of the twin mountains of firm, ripe flesh. Her boobs were like the succulent fruits of some exotic tropical tree-rich and juicy, at the peak of flavorful maturity. "Mmmmmmmmmnnnnnn," she murmured as he squeezed gently at the creamy mounds.
Suddenly, a coyote's howl shattered the stillness of the quiet country night. Marilyn shivered, feeling the skin at the back of her neck crawl with tingling gooseflesh. The coyote howled again.
"Sounds like he caught a rabbit," Ralph said, his soft and gentle voice almost reverent. "He's fed and he's free."
"Like us," Marilyn whispered. "Fed, free, and all alone. With no one to disturb us, if you know young freelancer who valued his independence more than money and enjoyed his work, having polished his craft until it gleamed with the brilliance of creative art.
Marilyn was impressed with him, both as a photographer and as a man. When he asked her to join him for dinner after the session, she accepted immediately. Afterwards, they went directly to his apartment where they made violent love for hours, rolling passionately on the surface of his king-sized mattress until they had fucked themselves into a state of exhaustion. Marilyn spent the night at Ralph's apartment. And the next night. And the one after that. After a week, it became clear to both of them that they were going to be together for a long time.
A month later, a publisher Ralph knew offered him an opportunity to break away from city life and try something new. The publisher would furnish Ralph with a cabin in the country-rent free-and a list of available models. In return, Ralph would shoot pictures to illustrate a series of sex books which the publisher was planning. The pay was good and the living would be easy, but Ralph refused to commit himself until he had an opportunity to discuss the offer with Marilyn.
When she heard about it, she jumped at the chance. It would mean getting away from the city which she hated, and having an opportunity to breath good, clean country air. And best of all, it would mean that she and Ralph could spend almost all of their time together. Now, staring up at the thick white Milky Way which lit the sky over their little cabin in the hills, Marilyn murmured a silent prayer of gratitude for the good fortune which had brought them together and which had led them to this place.
She could hear Ralph moving about in his darkroom as he put the finishing touches on his day's work. A moment later, his door opened and she was conscious of his footsteps approaching her from behind. She pretended not to notice, busying herself with a dish and a sponge. Suddenly he was behind her, his arms encircling her torso and his hands cupping the softness of her tits through the silky material of her blouse.
Her nipples began to harden immediately as his fingers moved slowly across the resilient surface of the twin mountains of firm, ripe flesh. Her boobs were like the succulent fruits of some exotic tropical tree-rich and juicy, at the peak of flavorful maturity. "Mmmmmmmmmnnnnnn," she murmured as he squeezed gently at the creamy mounds.
Suddenly, a coyote's howl shattered the stillness of the quiet country night. Marilyn shivered, feeling the skin at the back of her neck crawl with tingling gooseflesh. The coyote howled again.
"Sounds like he caught a rabbit," Ralph said, his soft and gentle voice almost reverent. "He's fed and he's free."
"Like us," Marilyn whispered. "Fed, free, and all alone. With no one to disturb us, if you know what I mean.!" She made her voice lewdly suggestive as she spoke the last words, rolling her hips sensuously to rub her ass against his cock which had stiffened and was pushing insistently at the front of his pants.
"I think I get the idea," he said, unbuttoning her blouse and slipping his hand inside it. She wore no bra, and could feel the callused skin of his fingertips grazing over her satiny breasts as he moved his hand gently from one to the other, petting their creamy surfaces and rolling the puckering nubbins of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
"Ooooooooooohhhhhhh," she sighed. "Let's go to bed."
Ralph lifted her in his muscular arms, pressing his lips to one naked nipple and carrying her to their bed which stood in a far corner of their long, L-shaped living room. Stepping carefully over and between the wires, lights, and tripods which ringed the mattress and allowed it to double as a photo studio two or three days a week, he lowered her to the surface of the bed.
Reaching immediately for the snap at the front of her jeans, he undid it and tugged at her zipper, pulling the pants from her and exposing the bristly red bush which furred the mound of her pubis, framing her pussy erotically. Leaning forward, he buried his face in the fragrant mat, nudging at the prominence of her clitorial mound with his nose and nibbling lovingly at her upper thighs with his lips.
"Oooooooooooh, yeeeeessssssss," Marilyn hissed, reaching for his zipper and opening the front of his trousers. His thick red cock sprang free of his pants the minute that she began slipping them down around his hips. Reaching for it hungrily, she wrapped her fingers around its burgeoning circumference. She squeezed gently to express the love which she felt for the organ which had brought her so much pleasure in the last half a year, and the sight of which never failed to set her body atremble with passionate yearning.
Ralph wriggled his hips from side to side, slipping out of his pants and freeing his cock and balls completely from confinement. Then, inflamed by the lust which had been building in his scrotum ever since he began developing the shots of yesterday's session in his darkroom earlier that day, he mounted her, thrusting his turgid cock at the warm slit of her cunt with no further preliminaries.
Her rubbery cuntlips were still dry and resisted his entry with an almost virginal tightness which heightened his excitement even further. Ralph was usually thoughtful and considerate in their lovemaking, but once in a while it thrilled Marilyn to be taken by him swiftly and without foreplay. When this happened, he became almost brutal in his excitement, jabbing mercilessly at the unyielding red slash which split her lower body. At last the lips parted and the thickly pointed tip of his hard-on found entry, burying itself ruthlessly in the tightly clasping tunnel of her pussy.
"Aaaaaaaghhhhhh," she grunted as his long, rock-hard penis probed the heated depths of her still-dry vaginal passage. The abruptness of his penetration hurt her a little, but she enjoyed the pain, savoring it the way a virgin savors the agony of her defloration. She looked up to see Ralph's face contorting in ecstasy, the pleasurable friction of her unlubricated cuntal walls against his driving cock calling up a hot load of joy juice from the swaying chamber of his bloating scrotum. She knew that he was only moments away from his orgasm and that there was no hope of her catching up with him to join him in the ecstatic release of pent-up passion.
But she didn't mind letting him get one ahead of her. She knew that he would make it up to her later. In spite of the fact that he was only a few years away from thirty, he was a sexual powerhouse. It wasn't at all unusual for him to cum two or three times in a night. And he never let her down. She spread her legs wide to allow him to drive deeper within her and to reduce the pain of his rhythmic thrusts into her unprepared cunt.
At last she saw his eyes roll back until only the whites were showing, and she knew that his climax was about to begin. His breathing was hoarse and labored and a tiny rivulet of spittle oozed from the corner of his mouth as he toiled atop her writhing body. She could feel his cock swelling inside her, like a rubber syringe filling with the hot fluids of life. Then, with a pathetic groan of passion-relieved, he threw himself forward, pressing his body against hers and burying his pumping dick to the hilt inside her. She felt the first hot blast of whirling cum shoot from the tip of his cock, inundating her pussy with syrupy moisture as he drew back for another thrust.
Again and again, he drove forward, pumping scum from his dick and filling her belly with it. As his cock fucked into her, the rough material of his shirt bruised and scratched at the smooth, white softness of her bare titties. But he was oblivious to everything but the satisfaction of his animal needs and the fulfillment of his bestial lusts. When at last he was finished, he rolled off her, lying at her side and breathing heavily. "Ooooooh," he moaned. "I needed that. I've been looking over yesterday's proofs, and they're dynamite. My cock was so hard that my balls ached.. Don't know what I'd do without you."
Marilyn rubbed her cunt gingerly, the movement of her fingers easing the lingering hurt of his brutal penetration. "Will we be shooting another session tomorrow?" she asked meaningfully.
"Yes," he answered. "A threesome. Two girls and a guy. They'll be here around ten."
"Then I'd better stay close to home," she said, winking elaborately at him. "You'll probably need me when you're finished shooting." They both laughed. Ralph had never reached that fabled state of businesslike indifference, at which all nomographers were said to arrive. He always came out of a session with a burning and unabashed desire for sex.
Suddenly their laughter was interrupted by a loud slamming noise from outside. "What the hell was that?" Ralph asked with a start.
"Sounded like a car door to me," Marilyn answered. "But I can't imagine anybody coming here to see us." Their cabin was at the end of a long dirt road, and, except for a smaller cottage nearby, they were completely alone. The other cottage had been vacant for as long as Ralph and Marilyn had been living there.
"Maybe I'd better go and take a look." said Ralph. "Somebody might be lost." Pulling on his pants, he rose from the bed and headed for the door. "I'll be right back," he said. "Keep the bed warm."
"Hurry up," she said. "Don't forget, you owe me one."
CHAPTER TWO
Teddy leaned forward over the steering wheel of the station wagon, peering through squinting eyes into the blackness of the falling night. "Everything sure looks different in the dark," he muttered. "When I rented this place yesterday, it was broad daylight and I could see where I was. Now, I'm not even sure that we're on the right road."
Five minutes ago, when he had turned off the highway onto a bumpy dirt road, he had been certain that it led to the little cottage which he had looked at and rented the previous day. But now, unable to spot landmarks in the dark, he was beginning to fear that he had made a wrong turn.
Ellen's plane had been late in arriving at San Diego airport that afternoon, and by the time Teddy retrieved her baggage and loaded it into the car, the sun was already beginning to go down. During the hour-long ride across fields of waving alfalfa and through golden hills flanking the two-lane road which led east from San Diego, they chatted animatedly. Each was anxious to tell the other about all the things that had happened in the past two months.
Although Ellen and Teddy Dale married two and a half months before-on the day after their graduation from Davis High School-they had spent only a little more than a week together. For just ten days after graduation, Teddy had been inducted into the Navy and had gone away to boot camp in Texas. Now, his basic training completed, he was assigned to the Navy installation in San Diego. And Ellen had flown from Wisconsin to be with him. She still found it hard to believe that they were together again at last.
Suddenly, Teddy pulled the car over to the side of the road and cut the engine. "I think we're lost," he said. "I guess I ought to get out and take a look around on foot. Maybe I'll see something I recognize." Reaching across the front scat, he opened the glove compartment, rummaging inside for a flashlight. Ellen leaned forward to help him look, the motion bringing her pointy little tits into grazing contact with his elbow.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm," she moaned as the movements of her husband's arm stimulated and aroused her until her nipples puckered to rigid erection. "Please hurry," she said. Her voice was soft and as seductive as she could make it. "We haven't been alone together in two months. And I want to start making up for lost time right away."
Teddy's face reddened with embarrassment at her suggestive words. He had missed her too. And. the thought of being alone with her in the little cottage, the closest thing they had ever had to their own home, was exciting him. His strong, young cock was hard and stiff inside his pants and he turned quickly toward the door to hide his erection from his wife's view.
Just then a coyote howled-a long, plaintive sound which made Ellen shiver with fear. "What was that?" she whispered nervously.
"Nothing but a coyote," Teddy answered, anxious to show off his new knowledge. He had never heard the sound either, until he left Wisconsin. "Used to hear 'em all the time when I was at boot camp in Texas."
The animal howled again. "Sounds like that one's just caught himself a rabbit," Teddy said. "You ought to see them run. They're as fast as the wind." Opening the door, he stepped out into the darkness, the yellowing beam of his flashlight illuminating a path in front of him. "I'll take a fast look," he said, "and then I'll come right back. Keep the door closed and don't be afraid."
A moment later, Ellen was alone, the sounds of the evening filling the air around her. Teddy's admonition had been unnecessary. She had been raised in the country herself. It took more than a dark night and a howling dog to make her afraid. Anyway, she was far too excited to be frightened. She thought for a moment about the tearful farewell which her mother had bade her at the Madison, Wisconsin, airport earlier that day. In a way, it seemed like it had happened a thousand years ago.
Momma had held her tight and cried, making Ellen promise to write her often and to telephone whenever she got the chance. Ellen and her mother had always been very close, especially after Daddy's death eight years ago. Ever since that time, they had leaned on each other constantly. All that Daddy had left them was the farm, and keeping it running required all of their time. Not that it was much of a farm-a few cows, a few pigs, a few chickens, and a little vegetable garden.
But farm life was hard, and although Ellen was only ten years old when her father died, she began immediately to give Momma a hand running things. She got up each morning at five o'clock and hurried through her chores so that she could get to school on time. She milked the cows, fed the pigs, and took care of the chickens, leaving Momma free to care for the house and attend to the details of farm business-negotiating with the dairy company for the sale of their milk and arranging with Mr. Wilson for the use of his stud bulls during the breeding season each spring.
Occasionally, when some of the jobs that had to be done required more strength than either Ellen or her momma had, they called upon Teddy Dale for help. Teddy's father owned the Davis Grocery, at which Momma did most of her shopping. Although there had been a supermarket in town for years, Mr. Dale still got a great deal of the local business-probably because he was sympathetic to the needs and problems of the Davis farming folk-always ready to advance a little credit when the crops were bad or the price of eggs took an unexpected drop.
Teddy was a tall, muscular lad who had been helping his father run the store ever since he was old enough to walk. He and Ellen had been going to school together since kindergarten, and although her duties on the farm and his in the store left the two youngsters little time for socializing, they had always been good friends. When Ellen's father died, Teddy promised that he would help Ellen and her momma whenever he could. And he promised himself that some day he would marry Ellen, and that the two of them would escape together from the little mid-western town which held them prisoner.
He never mentioned his plan to Ellen, however, remaining her platonic friend until after they had both turned fifteen. Ellen clearly remembered the incident which changed the direction of their relationship. Momma was having Blossom, her best cow, bred to one of Mr. Wilson's bulls. And Teddy had come by to lend a hand. He pulled and tugged on the bull's harness until the huge animal had managed to mount the bawling cow. Then, when it looked like the cattle were making out all right on their own, he stopped to watch their union.
Ellen, dressed in Levi's and a loose-fitting boy-cut shirt, stood with her back to the corral fence and her eyes on Mr. Wilson's bull. She was thin and slight of build, her waist narrow and her buttocks boyishly flat. From behind, she could easily be mistaken for a boy if not for the long shock of straight blonde hair which hung almost to her waist. Her breasts were small and sharply pointed, hardly noticeable in the fullness of her shirt-front which camouflaged the tiny buds in its blousiness, making it possible to mistake her for a boy, even from the front.
Behind her, Teddy sat atop the corral fence, his boot heels hooked over the second rail. His knees were spread apart and Ellen was standing between them, her elbows resting comfortably on his thighs. They stared together in silence at the obscene spectacle which was unfolding before them. The bull was snorting excitedly as he humped and rolled atop the bucking cow. Ellen's breath was coming in rasping pants, the sight of the copulating animals having a strange and profound effect on her.
That's funny, she thought. I've seen cattle breeding before. And it never did this to me. She wondered if it could have anything to do with the changes that were taking place in her slender young body. In the past year, her breasts had .begun developing, starting out as two flat little circles which dotted her girlish chest and growing into twin pointed cones which thrust cockily out against the front of her shirts. And her crotch was beginning to sprout a downy growth of furry blonde hair which covered her pelvis and lined the pink lips of her tiny virginal pussy.
She was about to turn around, curious to see whether the lewd sight was affecting Teddy as it was her, when she felt his hand drop casually to her shoulder. Something about his touch made her feel confident and secure. A tingling warmth was beginning to flutter inside her belly and to sweep across her body, raising streaks of goose-flesh across the backs of her thighs and the undersides of her tiny adolescent tits. She stepped backwards, pressing her back against Teddy's crotch.
She could feel a hard, cylindrical object jabbing at her shoulder blades as she moved against the gangling fifteen-year-old boy. At first she thought that it might be his key ring or his pocket knife. But as she stared at the huge black bull's long scarlet penis, she realized suddenly that the object she felt was not something which Teddy carried in his pocket. Feeling naughty and a little wicked, she took another step backwards, feeling the whole throbbing length of Teddy's young organ against her.
Without taking her eyes off the lewdly fucking bovines, she began moving from side to side, rubbing her back against the boy's burgeoning masculinity, smiling inwardly when she heard him gasp. She continued to sway laterally, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, until she felt him place his other hand on her shoulder. Then, slowly, he began to slide his hands down over the cotton material of her shirtfront while she moved sensuously against him. She felt his fingers stroking and petting her, toying with the firm young flesh of her tits through the material of her shirt and the taut fabric of the white cotton bra which encased them.
Her nipples hardened to diamond points of desire and she felt her pussy moistening as a sudden combination of erotic, never-before-experienced sensations confused her and made her head spin. She knew that she should step away from Teddy and get her mind back onto more serious subjects, but the rolling waves of pleasure which suffused her body robbed her of all reason.
Teddy's hands were cupping her tits completely now, squeezing and kneading the blossoming flesh like a baker shaping a loaf of bread. His cock was pulsating urgently, the friction of her movements against him making him forget everything that he had ever learned about right and wrong. Teddy had bean masturbating occasionally for the past year and a half, but he had never, with his own hand, been able to bring himself any pleasure as intense as this.
Each movement of Ellen's swaying body brought a shudder of elation passing over his trembling erection. His scrotum drew tightly up against his body, his balls churning inside the wrinkled sac. "Oooooohhhh," he sighed as a hot drop of oozing slime squeezed out from the tip of his cock, wetting the front of his pants. Never in his life had he imagined that anything could feel this good.
Afraid, at first, of offending Ellen and driving her away, he kept his hands outside her shirt, rubbing her tits clumsily through the heavy material. But as the trembling waves of joy began to spread from his groin to his entire body, his hands began to act with a will of their own. With fingers made clumsy by inexperienced, he began fumbling at the buttons of her shirt, trying desperately to gain entry to the loose-fitting garment.
At last, in spite of his ineptitude, he succeeded, and her shirt fell open, exposing her bra-clad bosom to .the mid-afternoon sun. Without giving a thought to where they were, or who might be watching, Teddy held her conical breasts in his hands, moving his calloused palms slowly and sensuously over the smooth white fabric of her simple and unadorned brassiere. Her turgid nipples poked against the cloth and Teddy caught them between his fingers, pinching and squeezing them excitedly.
He was wheezing like a steam locomotive, and Ellen felt his erect young prick stabbing demandingly at the smooth skin of her back. She continued rolling from side to side, mesmerized by a potent combination of sexually arousing stimuli. The sounds and sights of the breeding cattle had set her cunt juices to flowing copiously. Her swaying, grinding movements were instinctive and mechanical, inspired by a form of physical excitement which she was discovering for the first time and which was inciting her to incredible heights of desire.
Then, suddenly, the heat of her passion cooled and her blood ran icy cold. Teddy was trying to worm his fingers inside her brassiere, and she knew that if she didn't stop him immediately, he would soon be touching her naked breasts, rolling her nipples about in his hands, and inflaming her to a pitch of arousal from which there might be no returning. Guided by a morality to which she had been born, she covered his hands with her own. But she simply did not have the strength to pull them from her. His manipulation of her breasts felt so good, filled her body with such warm, tingling pleasure, that she was powerless to stop him.
But Teddy, afraid that she was preparing to terminate their erotic episode, kept his hands in place, satisfied with the progress which he had already made. Using his forearms to guide her, he continued rubbing her body from side to side against the front of his pants. His trembling penis felt as though it was about to burst. He could feel its thick, bulbous head swelling to twice its normal size as the friction of her movements stimulated and caressed it. Then, in a sudden horrified flash, he realized that he was about to cream.
Usually, when the urges of his maturing body overcame him, he jerked off in the bathroom located behind his father's store, catching the slimy load of gism which spewed from the end of his dick in a folded wad of toilet paper and flushing it away so that no one could ever see it. But this time, there would be nothing to catch the sticky white fluid but the tight-stretched front of his faded blue overalls. Oh, my God, he thought, the anticipation of what was about to happen already beginning to color his face a bright and embarrassed pink. I've got to stop before it's too late.
But he had already passed the point of no return. Pulling Ellen's body tight against him, he rocked his hips vigorously back and forth, contacting her back with his quivering hard-on through two layers of clothing. As the hot load of boiling cum began to spout from the fountain of his virility, he bit his lip to keep from crying out. His eyes were closed tightly so that he wouldn't have to face the world until the humiliating ordeal of his orgasmic ecstasy had ended. The pleasure of his violently explosive orgasm ended quickly, overshadowed by his tremendous sense of shame and guilt.
As though she were a precious object which by his lack of self-control he had forever soiled and dishonored, Teddy dropped his hands from Ellen's budding breasts, letting them fall limply to his sides. When she turned to look at him, his cheeks were crimson and his eyes cast down toward the ground. Glancing quickly to the still-bulging rise at the front of his trousers, Ellen saw a large wet stain spreading darkly across the softly faded material. She understood at once what had taken place.
She wanted to hold Teddy in her arms, to tell him that she didn't blame him for what had happened, to explain that she wanted it as much as he. But when he turned away from her in humiliation and self-reproach, she found herself tongue-tied, unable to say the things that were on her mind. Teddy jumped quickly down from his perch on the fence and ran to stand next to Mr. Wilson's bull. The huge black animal had stopping humping, and Ellen could see his giant scepter deflating and returning to the sheltering protection of the furry black sheath which housed it when inactive.
"I'd better get him back to Mister Wilson's, Teddy blurted, careful not to face his adolescent girl friend. "See you in school." Pulling the bull by its chain, the boy led him quickly out of Ellen's barnyard, anxious to put as much distance between his girl friend and his cum-stained pants as possible. When he was gone, Ellen re-buttoned the front of her shirt and led Blossom back to her stall in the barn.
She and Teddy never discussed the incident again. But a subtle change had taken place in their relationship. No longer merely childhood pals, they began to think in terms of eventual marriage. By the middle of their senior year of high school, they had already begun making plans for the future.
Teddy had long ago decided that military service would provide his only escape from Davis, and his only hope for breaking away from the little family grocery store which had made demands on his time for as long as he could remember. As soon as he was sure that he would be graduated in June, he went into Madison for a talk with the U.S. Navy recruiting officer. When he returned home, his eyes were gleaming and his face aglow with adolescent excitement.
According to what the recruiter promised him, he would serve his hitch at some landlocked base where he could work eight or nine hours a day like a civilian, while learning a trade that would prepare him for life in the "outside world". Ellen was upset at first, until Teddy told her that he wanted to get married before his induction. They finally decided to have the wedding on the day after their high school graduation.
Because Teddy would be leaving for boot camp soon afterwards, they agreed to live in Ellen's mother's house until his induction. But in a way, the decision proved to be a mistake. Because, although Ellen's mother did her best to give them as much privacy as possible, the newly married young couple never felt as though they were truly alone. They stayed in the room which Ellen had grown up in, just down the hall from her mother's bedroom on the upper floor of the old farmhouse. But the rusty old bedspring creaked cacophonously each time either of them so much as turned over. And the paper-thin walls allowed even the quietest sound to carry throughout the house.
Momma sat up every night for a week, watching late, late movies on TV in an effort to give the newlyweds some time alone together. But their nervousness, based on the knowledge that she could come upstairs at any moment, prevented the youngsters from getting to know each other the way a bride and a groom should. In the week that passed between their wedding and Teddy's induction into the Navy, they performed three quick and clumsy acts of intercourse, Teddy's insistently erect cock penetrating Ellen's virginal cunt swiftly, and staying just long enough to pump his hot load of gism into her waiting passages.
Ellen found herself getting short of breath, just thinking about the fun that they could have together as soon as Teddy found the way to their new home. They would lie in bed, rolling in each other's arms and kissing passionately all night long.
A sudden knocking on the car window brought Ellen out of her reverie. She looked up to see a short, stocky, dark-haired man, barefoot and wearing only a pair of pants, standing outside the car and peering in at her. For a moment she panicked and considered leaning on the horn to call Teddy. But, instead, she opened the window just a crack, making sure, at the same time, that the door was locked.
"Hi," said the man, shouting slightly so he could be heard through the window, "I'm Ralph Bronson. Live right down the road. What seems to be the trouble?"
Ellen still wasn't sure about him. "No trouble," she answered. "I'm just waiting for my husband to get back. He'll be here in a moment"
"Where did he go?" Ralph asked.
Suddenly Teddy appeared behind him, still carrying the flashlight, the beam of which had faded to a dull, dying yellow. "I was just looking for our cabin," he said. Ellen, feeling her confidence returning, opened the door and stepped out of the car. Teddy smiled at her.
"Found it, honey," he said. "Just over that rise."
"Did you folks rent that cottage?" Ralph asked them.
"Sure did," Teddy answered. "But for a while there, it looked like I wasn't going to be able to find it."
"I guess that makes us neighbors," Ralph said, smiling affably. "Ol' lady and I live right down the road. The only other cottage around. If there's ever anything you need, come on over and say hi."
"Well, thanks a lot," Teddy answered. "I'm in the navy and I'll have to report to the base in San Diego five days a week. Ellen will be alone out here and it sure is nice to know that we've got good neighbors. Thanks a lot."
"Not at all," Ralph said. "Anything I can do now?"
"No, thanks," Teddy said ."Nothing for us to do now but move on in. Haven't got any electricity yet, but I found some candles in there. We'll get along just fine."
"Good night, then," Ralph said, turning back down the road towards his house.
Teddy and Ellen stood for a moment watching him walk off. Then Teddy put his arm around Ellen's waist and kissed her. "It's a nice little place," he said. "I think you'll like it. Get back in the car. We can drive the rest of the way in.
He started the engine and drove a little further down the road, turning off onto a long narrow driveway which let to a small, wood-framed cabin. Ellen couldn't see it very well in the dark and resolved to take a better look in the morning. They stumbled their way inside, relying on the light of the dying flashlight. Then Teddy struck a match and lit two candles, handing one of them to Ellen. "You can call the electric company tomorrow and get the power turned on," he said. "But this'll do for now. Follow me to the bedroom."
He led her through a dusty little living room and into the small bedroom which lay behind it. It was a square cubicle hardly bigger than the double bed which occupied most of its floor space. The bed was covered with a sheet which didn't look too dirty in the flickering candlelight. Ellen shrugged, deciding to give the whole house a thorough cleaning in the morning.
Teddy stood his candle up on the top of a battered old bureau which stood in a corner of the room. Then he took Ellen's from her and did the same with it. When he finished, he turned to face his wife. He let his eyes travel slowly up and down over her body.
She looked just as she had when they were fifteen years old. She was tall and lean, with a slender frame and a figure which remained more boyish than girlish. Her hips were narrow and her buttocks flat. Her breasts were two sharply pointed cones which poked at the front of her sweater, meekly asserting their diminutive existence. Her long blonde hair framed her petite face, its silky ends flowing luxuriantly across her bosom. Her round blue eyes sparkled with excitement as she returned her husband's gaze.
She had always liked looking at Teddy-even when they were kids. He was just a little over six feet tall, with broad, muscular shoulders and a wiry but powerful physique. His sandy hair was crew cut, accentuating the angular lines of his silhouette and highlighting the well-scrubbed appearance of his white skin. His eyes were steel gray and flashed as they swept over her body.
"It's been a long time, Ellen," he said. His voice was raspy with nervousness. "I missed you."
"And I missed you too," she answered, stepping forward into his waiting arms. "I've been waiting two months for this."
"A man hadn't ought to be separated from his woman for that long," Teddy said. He kissed her clumsily, bruising her lips with his own. But Ellen didn't mind. She felt warm and secure in his arms. She returned the pressure of his lips with breathless excitement.
Teddy's breathing was also becoming labored. Ellen could feel his hands trembling as he reached for the front of her sweater. She felt her nipples hardening in response. He clawed desperately at one of the buttons, unable to get it undone.
Ellen reached up to help him, feeling the cool evening air caressing her bare shoulders as Teddy finally succeeded in pulling the sweater from her.
He reached quickly behind her, his fingers working at the clasp of her tight white bra. She felt it come loose. Teddy slipped the undergarment off over her thin arms, freeing her pointy little breasts from its tight confinement. When they were completely exposed, he drew back for a long look at her naked bosom. Her nipples were pink and rubbery, their turgid centers long and cylindrical like the teats of a cow. The snowy mounds from which they rose were small and funnel-shaped, just barely enough to fill the palms of his hands.
Turning reluctantly from her tits, he reached for the snap at the waistband of her Levi's. He undid it and tugged at the zipper, opening her pants in the front. They fit her tightly, and he pulled at them in frustration, trying to roll them down over her narrow hips. When, at last, he managed to pull them to her knees, he let them drop and slipped his thumbs into the elastic waistband of her panties. She felt an oozing fluid warmth flooding her entire body as the panties rolled down, exposing the curling tuft of downy yellow hair which upholstered her pubic mound.
Ellen held her breath, her eyes closed and her body swaying as she waited for Teddy's touch on her tingling skin. She had been waiting a long time for this moment. For although her hymen had been broken two months ago by a swift and brutal thrust of Teddy's cock, she still thought of herself as a virgin. She had never experienced orgasm, or anything approaching it. And although Teddy had made love to her three times during that first week of their marriage, his cock had not been inside her for a total of more than a minute. She trembled in aroused anticipation when she heard the rasping sound if his zipper being pulled down. She opened her eyes quickly to see him stepping out of his pants and under-shorts.
Then he moved toward her, naked. His erect manhood swayed from side to side as he approached, placing his hands on Ellen's bare shoulders. She felt him pushing her gently until the edge of the mattress pressed against the backs of her knees. Allowing herself to go limp, she tumbled backwards onto the bed. As she fell, her legs parted, leaving room for Teddy to fall between them. She closed her eyes again, waiting for the touch of his fingertips on her breasts; the touch of his lips on her throat.
But instead she felt his hands tugging desperately at her thighs, pulling them even further apart. Then he was probing at the pouting lips of her tender young vagina. Moments later she felt his cock bumping against her, trying to gain entry to her portal. For a moment, her tight, dry pussy resisted his intrusion. Then, slowly, she opened to him.
With a swift forward movement, Teddy buried the entire throbbing length of his virility inside her tender young cunt. Immediately, he began to pump his hips forward and back with a rapid pistoning rhythm. Before Ellen's sensitive cunt had a chance to adjust to his entry, she felt his rhythm accelerating. His breath was coming in snorts and his eyes were rolling about in their sockets until only the whites were showing.
"Unh! Unh! Unh! Unh!" he grunted. And Ellen knew, instinctively, that the staccato groaning heralded the onset of his climax.
"Noooooo," she moaned, unable to contain her frustration or to mask her disappointment. She was miles away from completion, and knew that her husband could not last long enough to give her an opportunity to sample the fabled joys of nuptial bliss. Struggling to bring herself abreast of his mounting excitement, she wrapped her legs around him and squeezed her eyelids tightly together.
Moving her hips quickly, she filled her mind with beautiful thoughts, trying to evoke a mental image of crystal palaces, glass slippers, fairy godmothers, and romance. But before her excitement could reach its peak and relieve the tension which had been building inside her since the onset of her puberty, she felt a hot torrent of whirling fluid fly from his cock, spraying the inner walls of her clasping pussy and drowning her hopes for sexual fulfillment. Her romantic images shattered pathetically, and were replaced by another, less captivating, vision.
She was sitting on the wooden fence outside Momma's barn surrounded by a carpet of grass made lush and green by the spring rains. The air was filled with the urgent and desperate snorts of Mr. Wilson's big black bull. It was mounting one of Momma's cows, its hind legs searching for a foothold in the slippery wet earth. The bull's hindquarters were pumping furiously, pistoning his huge red penis in and out of the cow's slimy vagina. Then, as his front hooves pawed mercilessly at the cow's back, he loosed a long bellow of bestial satisfaction and slowed the movements of his grinding rump-sated without joy, relieved without pleasure.
Teddy rolled off her with a relieved sigh of satisfaction. Moments later he was snoring, his knees pulled up against his chest and his head pillowed on his folded hands. Ellen lay awake for a long time, tears filling her eyes as she waited impatiently for sleep to come. She felt empty and unfulfilled. And she found herself wondering whether all the things she had heard and imagined about the pleasures of the marriage bed weren't just a bunch of silly and romantic girlhood fantasies. The morning sun was already beginning to light up the eastern sky when she dropped off into a fitful and restless sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
Ellen pulled the flowered pink housecoat around her as she poured boiling water over the instant coffee crystals in her cup. Waiting for the steaming liquid to cool, she looked quickly around at her tiny kitchen area. It was nothing more than an alcove set into the living room wall, but it contained everything that she needed to store food and prepare meals for herself and Teddy.
They had been living in the cottage for a little more than a week, and in that time she had done her best to make the place sparkle. She scrubbed and polished all the kitchen appliances until they gleamed. Borrowing a vacuum cleaner from Marilyn, the girl down the road, she cleaned the drapes and carpet until every last trace of dust was gone. And she even washed all the windows, inside and out. But although the house looked bright and shiny, her disposition was gloomy and gray.
Their first real attempt at married life was turning out to be a dismal disappointment. She had been feeling it ever since their first night in the cottage. Teddy's sudden penetration of her vulva followed by his swift and sated withdrawal had left her feeling dejected and unfulfilled. But when morning came, she thought it over and decided not to come to any hasty conclusions. After all, Teddy had been away from her for two months. It was only natural for a man to be fast and even a little rough after so long a period of sexual abstention. Perhaps she should be glad, accepting the abruptness of his lovemaking as proof that he had been faithful to her while away at boot camp. She was sure that things would be different in the future.
But that night, when Teddy came home from the base, he had a friend with him-a heavyset young sailor named Fred. Teddy introduced him to Ellen as an old boot camp buddy. He explained that when he ran into Fred on the base in San Diego and discovered that he had been stationed there too, he simply couldn't resist inviting him home for dinner. After dinner, Teddy and Fred sat at the table talking navy talk and laughing about some of the adventures they had shared while at boot camp. Ellen, feeling like an outsider, found an excuse to go into the other room where she sat by herself on the bed, patiently waiting for her husband's friend to leave. But she was sleeping with her clothes on by the time Teddy came in to tell her that he was driving good ol' Fred back to the base and would be home in a couple of hours.
The next night he brought another friend home -a pimple-faced youth named Art whom he had met only that afternoon. Art was from Gilbert, Wisconsin, a town located just a hundred or so miles from Davis. For this reason, Teddy kept referring to him as "neighbor", and insisted that he stay for dinner. Ellen tried her best to be hospitable, but her disappointment was apparent.
When Art had gone and she and Teddy were alone at last, she said, "Teddy, do you have to bring your buddies home every night?"
"What's the matter, honey?" he asked. "Don't you like my friends?"
"It isn't that," she said, trying to keep her lips from trembling. "It's just that I hoped we could be alone for a while. We never really had a honeymoon, you know."
Teddy's face reddened at what he thought was an obvious reference to sex, and he turned away to avoid meeting her glance. "I... I guess you're right," he said. "I just didn't think of it."
Ellen stepped towards him, reaching for his hand. She was glad that she had told him what was on her mind. And she was grateful that he appeared to understand her. Taking his hand in hers, she led him toward the bedroom, her heart pounding thunderously with passionate excitement. This time, she was sure, it would be different. This time, she was sure, it would be wonderful. This time the earth would move.
Teddy just stood there, in the middle of the bedroom floor, watching as she undressed for him. She took her clothes off slowly, trying to be sexy and seductive. She could see the front of Teddy's pants tenting outward as his cock hardened to full, demanding erection. Completely naked, she threw herself onto the bed, lying back with her legs spread and licking her lips suggestively.
Teddy tore the clothes from his body with trembling hands. Nude at last, he stood at the foot of the bed looking at her. From where he stood, he could see the moist and dewy lips of her flowering red slash. The sight of it made his balls ache and his throat dry. His swollen cock stood straight out from the front of his body, pointing to her pussy like the needle of a compass.
When she saw it, she gasped with delight. It looked so beautiful, so powerful, so masculine. She wanted to hold it in her hand, to fondle it, to press it to her cheek. She wanted to stroke and caress his hard and muscular body and to roll in the snug security of his encircling arms. When he started moving towards her, she extended her arms to him, anxious to hold him against her and to rub her nude and hard-nippled little tits against him.
But Teddy let her down again. As soon as he had climbed onto the bed, he crawled between her knees. He mounted her quickly, steadying his stiffly swaying cock with one hand and using the other to spread the lips of her cunt and hold her open for him. He lowered his body onto hers until he felt the soft moistness of her inner cuntal membranes against his pulsating cockhead. Then he plunged forward, burying himself to the hilt in the depths of her tight and almost virginal pussy.
He was finished almost before he had begun, his orgasm announcing itself with a grunting moan which tore from his throat like thunder from the heavens. His hips bucked wildly and a torrent of fluid warmth, shot from his cock, filling her pussy to overflowing and wetting the mattress beneath her ass.
He dismounted immediately, kissing her lightly on the lips. "Not bad," he said. "Not bad at all." Ellen shut her eyes tightly in silent desperation.
Since that night, they made love on two other occasions. But each was a model of the first. There was never any preliminaries and their acts of intercourse never took longer than a minute or two. Ellen found herself becoming nervous and irritable, feeling frustrated and unfulfilled.
At first she blamed Teddy for her disappointment. But lately she was beginning to wonder whether in fact it was not she who was at fault. Perhaps she was expecting too much from the marital relation. Perhaps sex was, as she had learned in Sunday school, nothing more than a reproductive function of the body. Maybe she had no right to expect pleasure and satisfaction for herself. Maybe she was a sex fiend. A pervert.
Her hands were shaking so badly that she spilled coffee all over herself when she tried to raise the cup to her lips. Uttering a little cry of dismay, she tossed the rest of the liquid into the sink and reached for a towel with which to clean up the mess. I've got to get out of here, she thought. I've got to talk to somebody before I go nuts. Running into the bedroom, she dressed quickly, stepping into a pair of jeans and slipping a sweater over her head. She didn't even bother to put on a bra.
She hoped that Marilyn would be home. She had spoken to her neighbor a few times during the past week, and liked her quite a lot. Marilyn was a friendly and interesting person with whom Ellen enjoyed chatting. Her husband, who was home most of the time, did some kind of photography work and Marilyn apparently helped him. But maybe she would be willing to leave him long enough to join her for coffee this morning. Maybe talking would help her to get her mind off her troubles.
Closing the cottage door behind her, she walked down the road toward Marilyn's cabin.
As she passed the living room window on her way to the door, she saw a light flash suddenly inside the room. Turning involuntarily to glance through the window, she was stopped dead in her tracks by what she saw. Marilyn was standing with her back to the window, her right hand holding a photo-flash gun high in the air. Next to her, Ralph, her husband, was bent over, his eye peering through the lens of a large black camera which was mounted on a tripod. His camera was aimed at the bed.
On the bed, apparently posing for him, were two young women. One of them had short dark hair and the other was a blonde. Both had tremendous bosoms. And both were stark naked. But it was their pose which shocked Ellen most. For they were embracing, like lovers. Their lips were pressed together in a lingering soulful kiss, and the blonde held one of the brunette's mammoth breasts in her hand. Ellen couldn't believe her eyes.
Every few seconds, the light in Marilyn's hands would flash and Ralph would wind a little knob on his camera. And every few seconds the two naked girls would change their position slightly.
When the brunette leaned forward and placed her lips against the blonde's rosy nipple, Ellen gasped in disbelief. Turning suddenly, she ran off towards her home, nearly falling when her toe caught on an exposed root. But she managed to keep her balance and continue running, not stopping until she was safe inside her cottage. She felt parched and dry, and headed straight for the sink to get a glass of water.
Steadying herself against the sink for a moment, she stood trying to catch her breath while she waited for the water to run cold. Then she filled a glass and gulped thirstily, as though trying to quench a fire which raged deep inside her. She refilled her glass immediately, drinking until she could hold no more.
She still felt shocked and a little frightened, but her feeling of panic was gone. She went to the couch and sat down on it, her head spinning as she tried to make sense of what she saw. Marilyn's husband had obviously been shooting some kind of pornography. That was plain enough! But Ellen always thought that dirty pictures involved men and women having sex. What she had seen through Marilyn's window was something different. Something sick. Depraved.
But there was something about it which was exciting, too, in a strange and inexplicable way. Ellen had never seen women doing those things before. But she had heard about it. And she had wondered. Back at Davis High School there had once been a scandal involving two girls who were caught doing something dirty in the bathroom. Ellen never completely understood what it was, but it had often haunted her thoughts, filling her head with lewd and perverted fantasies.
In a way she was sorry that she had been so quick to run from Marilyn's cabin. There was something fascinating about the sight of the two women petting and caressing each other's bodies. It had given her a warm, wet feeling between her legs. And maybe that was what she had been afraid of.
Ellen found the feeling returning as she thought about what she had seen. It was like the feeling she got just before Teddy entered her during their clumsy bouts of lovemaking. But it was deeper. More compelling. And somehow it carried a greater promise of fulfillment. Like an automation guided by some powerful exterior force, she rose from the couch and headed for the door. She would walk over quietly and see if the girls were still posing. If they were, she would peek through the window for just a few minutes. Then she would return to her cottage. A few minutes wouldn't hurt.
* * *
Ralph removed the film from his camera as soon as he was finished shooting, wrapping it in foil before storing it in its can. His cock was as stiff as a steel rail and he was anxious to be done with his work so that he could bury it in Marilyn's vivacious body. Next to him, Marilyn was unplugging the wires which connected the photo-flash to its rechargeable battery-pack. She, too, was anxious to get business out of the way. Today's session had excited her more than any ever had before. It was the first time Ralph had ever shot a lesbian series while she was in the room, and the memory of the two female models' erotic gyrations was having a strange effect on her.
She glanced at the girls, who had finished dressing and were fixing their hair. Ordinarily, she would have offered them coffee and sandwiches or something, but today her hostess instincts were overpowered by more basic ones. "I'll get your bags," she said, going to the closet in which she had placed the models' purses when the girls arrived.
The blonde looked at her and smiled. Then she winked at Ralph and said, "Looks like you're going to have your hands full after we leave."
Ralph laughed. "Then what the hell are you waiting for?" he asked.
"Don't forget to send us a check," she called, waving gaily to Ralph and Marilyn as she and her partner climbed into their car.
The moment they were gone, Marilyn grabbed Ralph's hand and dragged him toward the bed. "Come on," she said, breathless. "Come on and fuck me. Before I scream." She pulled her clothes off as she went, scattering them on the floor around her. By the time she reached the bed, she was naked, a trail of rumpled clothing in her wake.
Ralph stopped long enough to remove his clothes and fold them neatly, placing them on the couch in a neat pile. He stood for a moment looking at Marilyn, his fingers encircling his erect cock and stroking it lightly. "You're a hot little cookie, you are," he said, affecting a cockney accent.
"If you keep me waiting any longer," she answered, "I'll burn to a crisp. Today's session came close to doing me in. I never realized how exciting it could be to watch two girls getting it on that way. Makes me wonder what I've been missing, sticking to men all this time."
Ralph laughed. "Any time you get the urge to find out," he said, "you go right ahead. Don't let me stand in the way. But for now, I'll do the best I can with this measly little weapon." He gave his cock a shake to emphasize his words. "I hope it doesn't disappoint you too much."
"I guess it'll have to do," she said, kidding.
Taking a step closer towards the bed, he stopped for a moment. "Would you like some pictures of us fucking?" he asked.
"Is it a lot of hassle?" queried Marilyn.
"No, not really," he answered. "I've got the timer all hooked up. All I have to do is flip the switch and the camera will take a picture of the bed automatically, every thirty seconds. But I'll have to put in a new roll of film."
"Skip it then," Marilyn replied. "I can't wait any longer." She began rubbing her hands across the hair-covered prominence of her pubic mound, nudging her quivering little clitoris with her fingertips as she did so. The sight made Ralph's hard-on twitch excitedly. Noticing his organ's response, Marilyn sat up and extended her arms, reaching for its pulsating length.
Neither of them heard the footsteps which carried their young neighbor to the living room window. And neither of them noticed her face, pale, trembling, and distorted with voyeuristic lust as she pressed her nose to the glass so that she could get a better view.
Disappointed, at first, that the models had dressed and were leaving, Ellen was about to turn and go back to her cottage when her attention was attracted to Ralph and Marilyn. The couple were carrying on like characters in a pornographic movie. Ellen stared in excited disbelief as Marilyn moved quickly toward the bed, stripping as she went. When Ralph undressed and stood with his cock in his hand, she gasped in surprise. His penis was tremendous. Even bigger than Teddy's.
Until that moment, Teddy's cock had been the only one which she ever saw, and she had just sort of assumed that all of them looked alike. But what she was seeing now was demonstrating just how wrong she had been. Although Ralph was much shorter than Teddy, his cock was almost one and a half times as long. And it was so thick that when he held it, his fingertips were unable to meet his thumb. Also, it was deeper in color-almost bluish in its aroused distension.
She felt a burning sensation between her legs, as though her sensitive young pussy had been bruised with sandpaper and then painted with iodine. Holding her breath for fear that someone would overhear her gasping inhales and sibilant exhales, she placed her hand over the crotch of her tight-fitting jeans in a vain effort to soothe the searing itch which was spreading from the lips of her cunt to her entire pelvic plane.
When Marilyn reached for Ralph's meaty cock and held it in her hand, Ellen felt a thin rivulet of liquid squeeze out from between her pouting pussylips and wet the inside of one of her thighs. She rubbed her hand back and forth across her cushiony mount of Venus, trying to blot the trickling liquid with the absorbent material of her pants.
Marilyn was stroking the immense hard-on now, rubbing her fingers lightly up and down its thickly throbbing length. Ellen had never, except in her daydreams and fantasies, touched her own husband's cock. She couldn't imagine what it felt like. Marilyn was handling Ralph's penis softly and tenderly, as if it were soft and fragile like that of a tiny baby. But something about the massive organ looked cruel and hard. As though it could take any punishment offered with rubbery stoicism, waiting patiently for its chance to retaliate by battering at sensitive vaginal tissues like wooden walls which needed to be broken down.
Marilyn's fingers moved lazily over the heavy hard-on's glisteningly purple tip in a gently grazing spiral. Ellen saw a tiny jewel of moisture forming, and her head filled with a wishful vision of her own husband's cock secreting the same kind of moisture while she held it lovingly in her hand. She had always wanted to stroke and cuddle his penis, but she never had the guts to try it. It seemed like too aggressive an act for a woman. She had been brought up to believe that men belonged to the stronger sex. And she, therefore, assumed that Teddy should be the leader in their lovemaking.
But watching Marilyn play, abandonedly and uninhibitedly with her husband's cock was a revelation to Ellen. Ralph was obviously very much a man-especially if the size of his penis was any barometer. Yet he was permitting--even enjoying, by the look on his face-his wife to be the aggressor, while he remained passive and submissive.
He was standing next to the bed now, his feet apart on the floor. Marilyn, who was sitting on the mattress, was holding his stiff cock in one hand and jerking it slowly up and down, while, with the other hand, she cupped his massive scrotum, juggling his swinging testicles in her hand. The wrinkled bag of nuts was covered with a downy growth of shiny black hair which curled like Brillo. Marilyn ran her fingertips lightly across it, tickling his scrotal membranes with one of her long pointed fingernails.
"Ooooooooohhhh, yeeeeesssss," Ralph moaned. He could feel Marilyn's warm breath bathing and caressing the head of his cock as she leaned towards his moist and fragrant groin. Pursing her lips, she planted a wet and noisy kiss on the glistening little slit which split the purple knob capping his penile tower.
"Aaaaaaannnnngggggg," he groaned, his expressions of pleasure so uncontrolled and unashamed that Ellen heard them right through the closed window. The passionate sounds were affecting her as potently as the erotic sights. Her nipples had become so turgid and hard that they ached. And while she continued to rub her pussy idly with one hand, the other moved to her breast. She pinched her nipples through the soft material of her sweater, trying to quiet the dull and aching pain which throbbed within them. But the more she rubbed and the more she pinched, the deeper the ache seemed to become. And the deeper the ache, the stronger her need to rub it.
Marilyn's hands had moved around to cup Ralph's hairy asscheeks while her lips planted a tingling series of kisses up and down the length of his penile shaft. His ass was twitching and jumping crazily, the firm and heavy cheeks snapping together and falling apart with mounting rhythm. Ellen could see muscles rippling under the surface of his smoothly contoured buttocks. It made him look even stronger and more powerful.
Each time his buttocks spread, Marilyn's long probing fingers moved closer to the dark and shadowy crack between them. Finally the fingers of both hands were touching, back to back, inside the crevice of the photographer's ass. Pulling his cheeks apart, she pressed him forward, opening her mouth to accept the glistening head of his quivering cock
Ellen gasped as the long, thick sausage of rigid meat inched forward into Marilyn's wide-open mouth. The redhead appeared to be running her tongue over and around the mammoth member's underside. And Ralph's hips were beginning to roll to the left and the right as though he were possessed by some erotic Saint Vitus's dance.
"Aaaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaaahhhhh!" he grunted, his head thrown back like a wild beast howling for its mate. Ellen's own body was drenched in sweat as her eyes glued to the lascivious scene. She no longer cared whether anyone saw her or whether what she was doing was wrong. She was completely mesmerized by it, en-rapt and imprisoned by her own lewd curiosity and the thoroughly erotic nature of the peeped-at encounter.
Suddenly Marilyn let go of Ralph's ass and pulled her head back, allowing his cock to pop from her mouth. She leaned back languorously and elaborately, throwing her legs open and taking hold of Ralph's stiff prick. Pulling on it like a handle, she drew him forward until his knees were touching the edge of the bed. She continued pulling on his cock, giving him the choice of either climbing onto the bed or falling onto it. He chose the former, moving towards her on his knees and allowing her to direct him by the pressure of her hand on his cock.
When he was next to her, he placed his hands over the soft white hillocks of her breasts, cuddling them gently in his cupped palms and then kneading them softly with his fingers. Her nipples had risen from soft pink discs, flat and dormant, to ripe red strawberries, thick, full, and waiting to be plucked and eaten.
Ellen felt her own nipples, stiff against the front of her sweater, and resisted the urge to pull up the garment and look down at herself. She knew that her body didn't compare to Marilyn's, but she was sure that her tits were capable of as much sensation as anyone's. Every movement of her fluttering fingers was bringing a new shock wave of aroused response crashing across her body.
Holding one of Marilyn's tits in both hands, Ralph leaned forward and ran the broad, flat blade of his tongue across its puckered surface. Ellen could see the rosy pap hardening still more, standing up straight to meet the lapping thrusts of his laving tongue. Then, continuing to press his mouth to her rigid, rubbery nipple, he eased himself into position over her.
Marilyn's thighs were spread so far that Ellen could see right into the flowering slash of her moist red pussy from where she stood. The lips had pulled back, revealing the deep gash which called out invitingly to Ralph's cock. Her cunt was the color of aged meat, and Ellen wished that she could move in closer for a better look. She understood the female genitalia only slightly more than she did the male.
As Ralph lowered the bottom half of his body into the space between Marilyn's thighs, his cock dangled at the mouth of her hair-lined cuntal opening. Marilyn raised her legs in the air, pointing her feet at the ceiling and forming a huge V with her twat at its apex. Then, with a slow and deliberate movement, she wrapped her legs around Ralph's waist, drawing him down onto her by locking her ankles together just above his ass.
His cock slid forward, spreading the lips of her pussy the way an icebreaker moves across the Arctic Sea. The thickly greased membranes of her inner cunt rolled back for him, closing tightly around his manly girth as he plowed deeper. Her cunt fit him. like a fleshy condom, stretching tightly around his erect cock to press erotically at each of its blood-engorged ridges. As he drove forward, a long wailing cry of pleasured agony tore from Marilyn's lips.
"Aaaaaaiiiiiiyyyyyyy," she howled. Her breathing was hoarse and shallow, filling the air with asthmatic sobs which made Ellen moan in sympathetic envy. "Fuck me, Ralphie," she demanded. "Fuck me good and fuck me deep. Ooooohhhh yeeeeesssssss. Fuck me like that. Ooooooooooooh, Ralphieeeeee, fuuuuucccckkk meeeeee gooooood."
Ellen looked furtively around her, fearful that Marilyn's cries might attract attention and bring the world rushing to her door. Then, a thousand accusing fingers would point in her direction, highlighting her voyeuristic guilt and she would be forever disgraced. But the birds were still chirping and the squirrels still running. And, for a moment, the undisturbed order of the universe made Ellen wonder if any of it was really happening. But when she looked back again at the writhing figures on the camera-surrounded bed, the rest of the world faded vaguely into the background.
It was happening all right! And Ellen could no more turn away from it than a rabbit can turn away once it has been caught by the hypnotic stare of a coyote. She was rooted to the spot, incapable of voluntary motion until the spectacle in front of her had reached its conclusion. And the conclusion didn't look like it would be much farther off.
Marilyn's naked body was writhing and twisting like a pinned snake, and Ellen could hear her howling shrieks of ecstatic delight shattering the stillness of the air around her. "Ooooooowwww, dooooooiiiiiit," she screamed, her obscene commands inspiring Ralph to even quicker tempos of copulation and even deeper thrusts with his punishing prick.
His ass was rolling and bobbing in the air, powered by the dynamo of Marilyn's twat and set in motion by the energy of their mutual lust. Marilyn's movements were the exact mirror-opposite of his. Each time he moved upwards, drawing his cock from her pussy, she moved downwards, pressing her smooth, round ass against the mattress beneath her. And each time he drove forward, burying the hardness of his manhood in the softness of her cunt, she arched her back, lifting her buttocks clear of the mattress and rising to meet his thrust with her own willing body.
The air crackled with static electricity generated by their thrusting bodies whipping together and apart with the speed of a printing press running at full tilt. It looked to Ellen as though they would explode at any minute. Then, with the fury of a thousand volcanoes, their joint orgasm began. Ralph's hips pumped violently, the tip of his cock reaching for the warmth of her belly with each driving advance. Their juices mingled within the cavern of her womb, cementing their bodies together for one eternal instant.
As they came, their voices joined in a guttural chorus of grunts and howls which jolted Ellen back to reality. She knew that if she didn't leave there immediately, she would be discovered by the wildly fucking lovers as soon as their passion was spent. And that didn't leave much time, since it was evident that they had already reached the peak of their excitement.
Tearing herself reluctantly from her neighbors' window, she turned and headed for her own cottage. She moved quickly, not breaking into a run for fear of the noise she would make, but walking as swiftly as possible. As she walked, she gasped and panted in an effort to catch her breath. The cries of passion emanating from the little cabin down the road rang in her ears like the music of the barnyard back home in Davis.
Running into her house, she slammed the door behind her and snapped the lock. She was frightened, though she knew not why, and felt safer with her door bolted, though she wasn't really certain of who or what she was closing it against. She sat for a long time, smoking cigarettes and thinking about what she had just seen and what she had just experienced. Somehow, it seemed related to her own problems. And maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could learn something from it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ellen finished straightening the handmade lace tablecloth which her mother had given her as part of her "trousseau", and stepped back for a long look. Covered by its luxurious softness, the battered old table which stood at the kitchen end of her long but narrow living room didn't look quite so bad. Screwing two fresh candles into a small but ornate candle holder, she set it down in the center of the lacy tablecloth. The candle-holder was a wedding gift from some of the girls in her class at school. She hoped that it would make the cottage look romantic when she and Teddy sat down to dinner.
Hurrying back to the stove, she stirred the rice which was cooking in a large iron pot. Then, she lifted the lid of a pan which simmered next to it to check the peas and carrots, turning a handle to lower the flame. The chicken, which she had breaded and was baking in the oven, should be ready just in time. When Teddy got home, she would serve him a sumptuous meal. And then she would lead him into the bedroom.
Watching Marilyn and Ralph making love earlier that day had been an illuminating experience. She had always thought of sex as something a man does to a woman. And she had been waiting for Teddy to do some of the things that she craved and desired. But now she realized that sex was something that a man and woman do together. And that meant that she could take the initiative herself. Show Teddy what she wanted. And do things to him that she was sure he wanted done.
She looked quickly at the clock. He would be home any minute. I hope I look all right, she thought, putting down the spoon which she had been holding and walking rapidly through her bedroom to the bathroom which lay beyond it. Stepping inside, she shut the door, examining her reflection in the full-length mirror fastened to the inside of it.
She had put on the sexiest garment she owned, a short baby-doll nightie with matching briefs. It was a soft purple color, with hem and sleeves trimmed in white lace. The panties had the same lacy trim around the waist and thigh bands. Silhouetted against the diaphanous and almost transparent material of the nightgown, she could see the dark, shadowy points of her semi-turgid nippies. Lower down, the thick and furry mound of her blonde pubic bush appeared as a dark patch against the front of her panties' crotch band.
Although her breasts were small and her body thin, she liked the way the outfit looked on her. She thought it made her look sexy. And she hoped that Teddy would think so too. He had never seen her in the purple shortie. In fact she had only worn it a few times since receiving it from her mother as a present for her sixteenth birthday; and never since they had gotten married. Somehow it seemed a little too bold for a married woman to wear.
But tonight she would need all the boldness she could muster. For she had decided to seduce her husband. To do the things to him that she had seen Marilyn doing to Ralph that morning. And she hoped that he would react by doing some of the things she had seen Ralph doing to Marilyn.
She took another look into the mirror to check her hair, which she had brushed until it shone like polished gold, just as a car horn began to honk outside. That must be Teddy, she thought, conscious of a hollow thumping inside her chest as her heartbeat quickened in excitement. Barefoot, she hurried to the door, rushing to meet him.
The station wagon bounced to a halt in front of the cottage and Teddy bounded from it. But instead of heading for the door where Ellen awaited him with bated breath, he turned to look back up the driveway. A moment later, a motorcycle jounced into view, driven by a young man in a sailor's uniform and wearing a motorcycle helmet with a plastic face mask.
He pulled up next to where Teddy was standing and dismounted, removing his helmet and hooking it over one handlebar. Teddy laughed at something he said and slapped him on the back. Then, draping his arm over the other's shoulders, he headed towards the house. In his hand he held a large brown bag.
Ellen was so startled that she forgot the way she was dressed and just stood by the door when Teddy and his friend walked in. "Hi, honey," he called, jovially. "Want you to meet a friend of mine. Siegel, this is my wife."
The sailor smiled and nodded. "How do you do, Mrs. Dale?" he said politely. He was shorter than Teddy, but broader too, with dark hair and flashing brown eyes. He looked handsome, in a foreign sort of way, but Ellen couldn't help resenting him, in spite of the courteous way in which he had addressed her.
Teddy laughed and slapped him on the back. "It's Ellen," he said. Then turning to his wife, he explained, "Siegel comes from New York City. Those people got strange ways. Don't try to figure 'em out."
Siegel's eyes moved slowly up and down Ellen's scantily covered body, his admiration apparent. "Do all .you country housewives dress that way when your husbands come home?" he asked. His
New York accent made the sentence sound almost like a song, softening the insolence of his brazen words, and making him sound charming rather than insulting.
"No," Teddy said. "They sure don't. I think you'd better get some clothes on, young lady. Don't you?"
Ellen's face reddened as she suddenly remembered the way her reflection had looked in the bathroom mirror. She was practically naked. Turning quickly to avoid Siegel's eyes, she started for the bedroom.
"I'll be right in," Teddy called. "Just want to get this beer into the refrigerator. Then I'm going to change out of this uniform." Lowering his voice, he added, "Make yourself at home, Siegel. I'll be with you in a minute." He transferred the beer quickly from the paper bag which he had been carrying to the shelves of the refrigerator. Then he followed his wife into the bedroom.
When he entered the room, she stood facing him, still wearing nothing but her nightie. "What's gotten into you, dressing like that?" he asked. "Didn't it occur to you that I might bring a buddy home?" While he spoke he started undressing, anxious to change into his jeans.
Ellen sighed and shook her head slowly from side to side. "No," she murmured, "I guess it didn't occur to me." Things weren't going as she planned. Not in the least! But she still wasn't ready to give up. As soon as Teddy had dropped his pants and was stepping out of them, she moved forward, reaching for his flaccid cock.
It was. limp and relaxed, hanging down towards the floor as he hurried out of his clothes. But when Ellen's fingers made contact with it, it began to stiffen at once. "Hey," he said, "what the heck are you doing?" Ellen was stroking and fondling his burgeoning penis with a series of jerking motions which gave evidence of the nervousness of her fingers. Her breathing was becoming faster and more shallow, and her skin was coated with a million tiny beads of perspiration.
She could feel her husband's cock hardening in her hand as she petted and caressed it. The fires which had been burning quietly in her pussy since morning began to rage with greater fury. He was responding to her, and she knew she could make it work. She pulled and jerked at his cock as though her life depended on it, moving her fingers lovingly over its surface.
"Hmmmmmnnnnn," she moaned, the hardening of her husband's organ arousing her desires and inflaming her passions. But Teddy stepped back abruptly, brushing at her hand with his own as if it were a pesky mosquito.
"Stop it!" he said. "Cut it out!"
"I don't want to cut it out," she answered, her voice soft, but her frustration mounting. "I want you. I want you right now."
"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "Siegel's right in the next room. He's my buddy. It isn't right. Now get yourself dressed and come on outside."
Pushing her away from him, he stepped quick v into his dungarees and hung his uniform on . wooden hanger. He closed the bedroom door behind him when he returned to the living room.
Siegel was sitting at the lace-covered table, drumming idly with his fingers. "I hope it's not too much of an imposition," he said. "I mean me coming here for dinner without warning your wife or anything." He gestured towards the tablecloth and the candle holder and smiled. "Looks like she might have had a big evening planned."
Teddy scoffed. "Don't be silly," he said. "You know how women are. Doesn't mean a thing." Then raising his voice so that Ellen could hear it, he shouted, "Hey, honey. How about it? When do we eat?"
Ellen appeared a moment later, wearing her flowered housecoat and smiling bravely. She served Teddy and Siegel in silence. Then she served herself, putting just enough food on her plate to avoid attracting their attention. She wasn't very hungry, having suddenly lost her appetite. She just sat playing with her food while the others ate.
Siegel said little during dinner, but Teddy made up for his silence, keeping up a steady stream of patter throughout the meal. He stopped talking only long enough to take long, deep draughts from the cans of beer which he seemed to be opening one after another. Occasionally, he belched loudly, breaking into loud hysterical laughter after each resonant burp.
Ellen was sick. The moment Teddy and his friend had finished eating, she rose from the table and began clearing away the dishes. She just couldn't sit there a moment longer. She was running the water in the sink when she felt Siegel moving next to her.
"Here, Ellen," he said. "Let me give you a hand." As he spoke, he reached past her for the soap, his arm brushing gently across the front of her housecoat.
She felt his elbow moving against her breasts as he worked, bringing the nipples to instant erection. She wanted to step back, out of his reach, but resisted an impulse to pull away, certain that the contact was accidental and afraid that moving away abruptly would only call attention to it unnecessarily. But Siegel's arm remained in touch with her, moving back and forth over the pointed little cones of her tits as he lathered the dishwashing sponge with a white cake of soap.
Finally, looking her directly in the eye, he stepped aside, breaking the contact to reach for a dish. He rubbed the sponge across it, scrubbing and cleaning it before handing it to Ellen to be rinsed and dried. He didn't speak, but his dark, flashing eyes remained fixed on her face. He was reaching for another dish when Teddy called his name.
"Hey, Siegel," he said. "Why are you wasting time with the women folk? Ellen can do those dishes alone. How about a game of checkers?"
"I don't know," Siegel answered, turning from Ellen to glance at her husband. "Maybe there's something the three of us can do together."
"No," said Teddy, his voice petulant and whiny. "I want to play checkers." Siegel still hesitated, standing at the sink with a dripping sponge in his hand.
"Go ahead, Siegel," Ellen said softly, her voice devoid of emotion. "I'm going to go outside and look at the stars for a while. You and Teddy play checkers."
She finished washing the dishes and walked slowly out of the cottage, sitting for a long time on a low-hanging branch of the stunted monazite tree which stood near the house. From inside, she could hear the sounds of Teddy's laughter, loud and raucous. He was beginning to sound a little drunk.
The sky was filled with myriad points of twinkling white light, and off to the east, the moon on its last quarter-shone like a shaded beacon. But the brilliance of the heavens did little to cheer or console the young navy wife. Not only had Teddy been unaffected by her shortie nightgown, but he had actually rejected her when she tried to touch him in the bedroom. He was apparently more interested in being with his buddy than in being with her. He would rather sit at the table, drinking beer and playing checkers, than lie with her in bed, touching her body with his fingers and letting her touch him with hers.
Although her spirit was depressed and dejected, frustrated by the total lack of fulfillment offered by her relationship with Teddy, her body was vibrant and alert. Every time she moved, her garments brushed against her skin, caressing and arousing her like a thousand tiny fingertips. And her cunt was flowing freely, its secretions dampening the tight crotch band of the purple briefs which she wore under the housecoat.
She pressed her legs together, trying to quiet the nagging tingling itch which emanated from her moist and dewy pussy. Squeezing her thighs together and holding them with her hands, she rocked back and forth on the tree limb. But her movements only heightened the stimulation, causing the lips of her tender young pussy to part, and bringing the damp material of her panties against its inner membranes.
"Ooooooooh," she moaned, startled by the sound of her own voice against the silence of the night. She held her breath for a moment, listening. All was quiet, except for the chirping of the crickets. Not even Teddy's laughter could be heard disturbing the nocturnal serenity. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to concentrate on anything that would help get her mind off the agonizing demands of her unfulfilled body.
When she heard the cottage door open, and close, she looked up, squinting in the darkness. "Teddy?" she called.
"No," answered Siegel in his nasal New York voice. "It's me."
"Siegel?" she asked. In a way she was relieved to find that it wasn't her husband. "Where are you going?"
"My first name is Randy," he said softly, "and I'm going home."
"Where's Teddy?" she asked, automatically.
"Sleeping with his head on the kitchen table," the young sailor answered. "Guess he isn't the beer drinker he thought he was. Poor dude doesn't know what hit him." Then he looked at Ellen, staring intently into her eyes. In the dim starlight, he looked somehow sinister and noble all at the same time. "Lot of things that boy don't know," he added, his voice gentle in spite of his rough-sounding accent.
Ellen was suddenly frightened. Not of Randy Siegel, but of herself. Her husband's newest buddy was beginning to fascinate her, and she felt a powerful attraction to him which affected her in a way which she could not explain. Not even to herself. He seemed to be the same age as Teddy, but something about him was older, more mature. She wanted to turn away from him, blotting him out of her already complicated life. But she found herself rising from her perch, almost involuntarily, and moving closer to him.
"I think I know what your problem is," he said, his voice soft and his tone confident. "You aren't getting enough affection from glad-hand Charlie in there. What you need is a little lovin'."
His words made Ellen blanch. They hadn't spoken more than a few words to each other, but he put his finger right on the pulse of the problem.
Part of her-the part which longed for fulfillment and human understanding-wanted to reach out for the handsome, dark-haired stranger, to hold him close to her and to thank him for his sympathetic comprehension. But another part of her-the part which was raised on a farm in Davis, Wisconsin-felt threatened, as though her private secrets had suddenly been laid bare, leaving her weak and vulnerable in the presence of a stranger.
"I don't see how that's any of your business," she said, putting on a defiant expression and filling her voice with trembling bravado.
Siegel smiled, taking a step forward and putting his hands on her shoulders. "I'm making it my business," he said. And before she could pull away, he drew her toward him and pressed his lips to hers. She returned his kiss automatically for a second, and then realized suddenly what she was doing.
"Noooo!" she gasped, trying to twist away from him. But he held her in a grip which was gentle yet firm, and she was unable to get away. He continued kissing her, ignoring the desperate movements of her mouth as she attempted to order him away from her. Finally, parting his lips slightly, he allowed his tongue to dart forward, exploring the warmth of her mouth and sampling the sweetness of her saliva.
"Nooooooo," she sobbed again, only this time her protest was even less convincing. She pushed at his chest with the palms of both hands in a token effort to free herself from his grasp. But when he broke lip contact to nibble at her ear, all she could do was whisper hoarsely, "Please don't. Please." Her voice was becoming weaker, hardly audible against the chirping of the crickets.
"Don't fight it," Randy murmured, the warm rush of air as he whispered into her ear titillating and arousing her. Her hands slid slowly across the muscular plane of his chest until her arms were around his neck, pulling him against her as she arched her back and pressed the front of her body against his.
She could feel his cock, hard and erect, straining at the front of his trousers to poke at her belly. And she could feel the strength of his arms wrapping tightly around her as he kissed and nibbled at her earlobe. "Mmmmmmm," she moaned. "Feeeeelllllls soooo gooooood."
Carefully, he lifted her feet off the ground and cradled her in his arms as though he was carrying a sleeping child. He kissed her lips again, and this time she returned the kiss with uninhibited and unbridled passion. "Oooooooh, yeeeessss," she groaned. "Ooooooooohhhhh, yeeeeessssss."
Carrying her easily, Randy walked to a grassy spot next to where he had parked his motorcycle. He lowered her gently to the ground and dropped down beside her. The night was warm and the ground beneath her felt soft and cushiony. Randy, afraid that the mood would be broken if he waited too long, returned his lips to her body immediately, kissing and nuzzling at the soft white skin of her throat.
Ellen was allowing her body to do all her thinking now. The nagging little voice which buzzed inside her head saying, No! Don't do this! It's wrong! It's sinful!, had faded into the background and she almost succeeded in ignoring it completely. Randy's hands were moving freely over her body, stroking and massaging her belly and breasts through the material of her flowered housecoat. And his lips were nibbling at her throat, leaving a tingling trail of ecstatically aroused flesh in their wake.
While' he kissed her, he slipped one hand inside the front of her housecoat, searching for her small but sensuous tits. When he found them at last, he cupped each of them in turn, squeezing gently and rolling her long, cylindrical nipples between his fingers. With his other hand, he worked at the buttons which closed the garment's front. A moment later, its folds had fallen open, revealing the purple baby-dolls which she had donned earlier for the ill-fated seduction of her husband.
He pulled up the nightie until its hem was bunched up around her shoulders and her funnel-shaped titties were completely exposed to his view. "You've got an out-of-sight body," he murmured, moving his fingers in a series of tightly spiraling circles which carried them across her tits, belly, and thighs. At last his hands came to rest on the pantied mound of her cunt.
He stopped moving for a minute, and Ellen was conscious only of the sound of her own heart thundering inside her chest. She knew that if she was to stop him, this was her last and final chance. For once he started stroking her again, she would be at his mercy-powerless to resist him, incapable of demanding that he desist from the wicked stimulation of her body. But she bit her lip, unable to speak.
She didn't want him to stop-not until he had satisfied her needs, bringing to fruition the sexual responses which had been building unchecked within her since the onset of her puberty. She didn't want him to leave until he had shown her the glories of her own body's capacity for pleasure. She watched as his fingers tugged at the buttons of his pants, gasping in surprise when his cock sprang free, stiff and ready for action.
Involuntarily, she reached for it, touching the silky surface of the throbbing organ gingerly with the tips of her fingers. It felt smooth and buttery to her touch and she could not resist the urge to hold it in her hand and pull it rhythmically up and down as she had seen Marilyn do to Ralph's thick and swollen organ.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhh," sighed Randy, as her fingers moved delicately over the mushroom-shaped knob which capped the end of his long, blue-veined erection. I didn't misjudge this one, he thought. She'll be ready for anything I decide to give her.
He remained immobile for a moment, allowing the bare-breasted young housewife to amuse herself with the shaft of his swollen penis. Then, moving slowly and deliberately, he began to strip the panties from her loins. He pulled them down a little at a time, exposing a narrow band of curling pubic hair and then stopping to lean forward and kiss her on the belly before continuing to roll the purple wisp downward, toward her ankles.
Ellen arched her back, lifting her buttocks off the ground so that he could slip the undergarment off over her hips and ass. The fabric of her housecoat remained spread out beneath her, protecting her naked buttocks from the cool moisture of the ground below her. Siegel smiled at her willingness and cooperation, his cock throbbing as she rolled and petted it between her fingers.
She was like a little child with a new toy-one which she had been wanting for a long time. Her fingers moved rapidly over the unfamiliar object, exploring its ridges and indentations and tracing the length of a pulsating blue vein which broke the smoothness of the satiny penile surface. She was wheezing audibly as he peeled the panties from her. "Oooooh, ooooh, aaaaaawww, aaaaaahhhhhh," she intoned, completely preoccupied with her manual explorations of his erect penis.
Randy felt his own juices rising as he petted the hairy mound of Ellen's blonde pussy, listening with pleasure to her helpless cries of passion and desire which had doubled in volume. He rubbed her pubis with the flat of his hand, his palm describing a tight, little circle with her quivering clit at its center. At the bottom of the circle, his fingers dragged lovingly across the pouting lips of her abundantly flowing cunt, tickling and kneading them until her body shook with a trembling spasm which started at her feet and reached all the way to the top of her head.
"Uuuuuunnh!" she grunted as one of his fingers burrowed gently between her cuntlips to wallow in the juicy wetness which lay beyond them. Randy leaned forward, taking one of her thick and turgid nipples between his teeth. Nipping gently at it, he laved its quivering tip with the rough surface of his tongue, his cock twitching excitedly in response to the uninhibited moan of delight which ripped from her throat. "Oooo-oooooowwwwww," she hummed, as he prodded and devoured her.
His probing fingers sloshed around in the secretions of her tight and inexperienced cunt, and he knew that she was just a fraction of an inch away from the explosive release of orgasm. He couldn't be sure, but he suspected that it would be the first climax of her life.
When he moved into position above her, he looked down at her pussy. It glistened with a frothy white cream which covered her pouting pink cuntlips, like the whipped topping on a lemon pie. The furry flanges of her soft and tender portal were drawn back into an obscene grin. Her cunt was open, its pink internal membranes winking lewdly in silent supplication to his cock. Enter me, it pleaded, the lips spreading wider as she lifted her ass high into the air in an attempt to communicate her desperate need without words.
Siegel, who in spite of his youth had made love to many girls and almost as many women, knew instinctively that her moment was coming. To keep her waiting any longer, he concluded, would be torture rather than titillation. Shifting the position of his hips, he brought his swollen cock-head into grazing contact with the damp and shiny tissues of her splayed labia. Easing himself forward, he pressed the head of his cock against the pouting surfaces of her inner cunt-lips, triggering an automatic response. Her cunt closed around him immediately, imprisoning his cockhead in the tender cell of her vulva's outer chamber.
"Aaaaaiiiiiiyyyyyyy," Ellen wailed, trying to throw herself up at him so that her cunt could swallow the rest of his cock in one long, penetrating stroke. But Siegel moved with her, keeping only the swollen cockhead within the clasping folds of her tingling pussy.
Then, making it evident that he intended to remain completely in control, he moved his hips forward, a little bit at a time, burying inch after penetrating inch of his rock-hard organ in the moist warmth of her tormented vaginal depths. When, at last, he had driven forward as far as he could go, he felt the rubbery tip of his prick bruising the little knob of her cervix.
"Ooooooh," she sobbed. "Thank you." He looked down to see tears running from the corners of her eyes and streaking her face, and he wondered for a moment whether they were tears of joy or tears of shame.
But he didn't ponder the question for long. A building wave of sexual tension was bloating the sac of his scrotum, making his swinging balls ache with the need to discharge themselves of the thick load of viscous semen which they had been producing. Moving his ass backwards smoothly, he drew his cock outwards until all that remained inside of her was the tapered tip of his massive glans. Then, rocking forward, he buried it once more.
Ellen tried to keep from crying out, but a shriek of surprised pleasure broke from her with unstoppable force. The tingling feeling which had been building unchecked in her cunt for the entire day reached an uncontrollable pitch of frenzy, and for a long, terrified minute, she thought that she was going to blow apart.
She began to sob hysterically, her body thrashing spastically with combined paroxysms of joy and horror. She knew that her body could not long contain the mushrooming burst of energy which was setting her being afire and simmering her brain in the steamy heat of its own bubbling excitement. But she feared that she could not survive its release.
Then, a warm, wet wave of passionate excitement swept across her and a million colored lights exploded inside the ever-expanding sphere of her consciousness. "Ooooooooh! Oooooooooh! Oooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!" she sobbed, the rhythm of her cries matching the cyclical curve of her mounting orgasm. She felt Randy's cock churning within her, rearing back and spitting again and again; filling her belly with his juices and bathing her cunt in sticky, fluid warmth. She wrapped her thighs tightly around his waist, welding their bodies together for the infinity of their release.
Then, one by one, the sparkling lights in her head were extinguished, the shimmering whiteness fading to black. She went limp, only half-conscious as her husband's buddy finished filling her with the slimy product of his sexual excitement. He continued to pump and roll atop her while his cock softened and shrank, until finally, shriveled and useless, it plopped from her pussy.
Pulling the folds of her housecoat around her to cover her nakedness, Siegel rose and rebut-toned his pants. Then, mounting his motorcycle, he rode off into the night. Ellen waited until the sound of his engine had faded into the distance before she dragged herself from the ground, picking up her panties and stuffing them into a pocket of her robe. Walking into the house and past the unconscious form of her beer-soaked husband, she went straight to the bedroom where she threw herself across the mattress and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ellen took a deep breath to steady her nerves before knocking on Marilyn's door. She had slept late this morning, and felt better physically than she had in more than a week, having enjoyed her first good night's sleep since moving into the cottage with Teddy. As soon as she got up, she ran to the kitchen, half certain that he would still be there, sleeping off the beer which he had swilled last night like some irresponsible teen-ager. But, miraculously, Teddy had managed to wake up in time, dress himself, and leave for the base without disturbing her sleep.
She thought about the way he had been acting and shook her head sadly. She was beginning to see him in a new light. The boy she had married was nothing more than a silly young kid, playing at being a man. He was more interested in his navy "buddies" than he was in his wife, preferring to spend his time with them than with her. And he had been treating his marriage like a plaything, a new toy which he could show off to his buddies. But his "buddy" game had finally backfired.
Ellen was still unwilling to face up to what she had permitted to happen out under the starry sky last night while Teddy slept in the kitchen. She didn't understand it and she wasn't yet sure that she was ready to try. Her attraction to Siegel was completely unexplainable. She hardly knew him. She wasn't even sure that she liked him. But when he took her in his arms and kissed her, she had been incapable of protest. It was as though her conscious mind had gone to sleep and her sense of right and wrong had been disconnected.
His hands on her breast, his lips at her nipples, and his fingers tenderly stroking the soft pink petals of her flowering pussy, had cast a spell over her which placed her in his power. Each time he touched her, he spoke to the most primal and basic needs of her body. And when she saw his cock-stiff and erect, hard and throbbing-she responded without thinking, guided by the age-old instinct which guarantees the propagation of the human species.
It was as though the scenes which she had witnessed through Marilyn's window triggered an upheaval beneath the surface of her being; an emotional revolution which raged inside her, working changes far too radical for her to comprehend. The sight of two naked girls running through a series of obscene poses for Ralph Bronson's camera had excited her, filling her with a burning, itching desire which she simultaneously feared and denied. But watching Marilyn cuddling, kissing, and caressing the photographer's cock just minutes after the models had gone taught her an important lesson: Her desires were natural, meant to be satisfied, not to be feared.
But the most important lesson of all had been the one that Siegel taught her several hours later. For he showed her that her desires could be satisfied, that the needs of her body could be fulfilled. Right or wrong, last night's incident had opened her eyes and expanded her mind. The only question which remained was how to deal with it.
It was becoming obvious that her marriage to Teddy was doomed to failure unless something happened soon to change his attitudes and round out his sexual education. For a while, she considered telling him about what happened and trying to make him understand the depth of her frustration, the extent of her desperation. But she realized that telling him would probably be an act of cruelty.
He wasn't likely to understand, and confessing her infidelity would only hurt his pride and damage his boyish ego. But she had to tell somebody. It was just too much of a burden for her to carry alone. Although she hardly knew Marilyn, having spoken to her only a few times since moving in, she was somehow certain that the attractive redhead would be a discreet and understanding listener. So when she saw Ralph drive off alone in his car, about half an hour ago, she decided to come over and have a chat with her neighbor. But it had taken a while for her to build up the courage, and now that she was knocking on the cabin door, she was beginning to have second thoughts.
But before she could change her mind, the rustic wooden door swung open and Marilyn stood smiling before her. "Hi, Ellen," she said cheerfully. "Come on in and join me for a cup of coffee."
"Sure you're not busy?" Ellen asked politely.
"Not at all," Marilyn answered. "Ralph had to go into San Diego to see one of his publishers, and he probably won't be back until this evening. In fact, I was getting lonely. So it's good to see you."
"Thank you," said Ellen, stepping inside. She looked quickly around the living room while Marilyn went into the kitchen to pour coffee. Except for the bed, a small table, and two straight-backed chairs, the room was bare of furniture.
"Make yourself comfortable the best you can," called the redhead. "I'm afraid we're not really-equipped for company. We stay by ourselves most of the time, and the place looks more like a studio than a home."
"Yes," said Ellen, looking at the photographic equipment which ringed the bed. "I've been noticing all of these cameras and things."
Marilyn reentered the room carrying a tray containing two steaming cups of coffee, a sugar bowl, and a small creamer. Setting the tray down on the table, she said, "I guess you'll have to sit on the bed if you want to be comfortable. Don't pay any attention to the cameras and stuff. Ralph does most of his work right in here. And the bed is usually all the setting he needs." She sat down next to Ellen on the edge of the mattress and stirred her coffee.
"Oh, really?" Ellen said, anxious for a chance to find out what had led to the obscene performance which she observed through the window the previous morning. "What kind of pictures does your husband take?"
"Oh, Ralph isn't my husband," Marilyn answered, smiling. "I mean we're not married."
Ellen felt flustered. Apparently she had blundered. "Oh," she mumbled, trying not to meet her neighbor's eyes. "I'm sorry. . . ."
"Sorry?" interrupted Marilyn. "About what? That we're not married. Don't be sorry about that. I'm not."
"No, I didn't mean that at all," Ellen sputtered, not exactly sure of what she meant. "I mean, I guess it's none of my business. I shouldn't have asked."
"Don't be silly," Marilyn said, her voice patient and gentle. "We're not ashamed of the way we live. We're not doing anything wrong. Ralph is a pornographer. And I help him. We take pictures of people having sex. And then we sell them to a publisher."
Ellen was startled by her neighbor's candor and frankness, first in confessing that she was not married to the man with whom she lived, and next in the casual way she described their occupation. Folks back in Davis simply didn't talk about such things. At least not to people they hardly knew. Marilyn's openness with her made her feel somehow closer to the attractive woman, and made her want to tell some secrets of her own. But, still, she couldn't bring herself to speak about the things which had been troubling her.
Marilyn, noticing the confused expression which flitted across her new acquaintance's face, said, "I hope I haven't shocked you by telling you these things."
"No," Ellen said, "you haven't shocked me. In fact, I find it very interesting. I've led a kind of sheltered life, I suppose. And I guess I'm sort of naive about sex and stuff like that. But I sure wish I wasn't. There are so many things I'd like to know. And I don't even know how to find out."
"Try asking me," Marilyn answered. "I'm certainly not naive. And if there's any question I can answer for you, I'll be glad to."
"All right, then," said Ellen hesitantly, looking at the floor as she spoke. "I do have a question. It's about a friend of mine."
Marilyn cocked her head to one side and looked at Ellen, quizzically. "About a friend?" she asked, her facial expression reflecting her doubt. "If we're going to talk frankly to each other, don't you think we should start by being completely honest?"
Ellen's face reddened and she tried to look away. But she couldn't resist glancing first into Marilyn's face. Marilyn's expression was gentle and her eyes held a look of tender understanding. She could see that her young neighbor was troubled. And she sincerely wanted to help. "I know it's hard to be completely honest about yourself and to face your feelings squarely," she said softly, "but once you do, things start getting better immediately."
Ellen bit her trembling lip. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and started to overflow them, running down her soft, white cheeks in a gushing torrent of emotion. Marilyn moved closer to her and put her arm around the younger girl's shoulders. Ellen began sobbing softly, resting her head on the softness of Marilyn's breast.
"Oh, Marilyn," she said, her voice halting and punctuated by choking sobs. "It's been going on all week. But yesterday was the worst of all. I came down here to talk to you, but you and Ralph were working." Her voice dropped to a near whisper as she struggled with her own feelings of guilt and shame before going on. "I peeked through your window and saw the girls posing naked on the bed. Oh, Marilyn. I don't know what to think." She was wailing now, no longer able to contain her desperation.
"Why did you stay outside?" Marilyn asked her. "You should have come in for a better look. None of us would have minded."
"I was afraid," Ellen answered. "I was afraid you'd think I was a peeping Tom." Then her voice dropped so low that Marilyn had to place her ear close to Ellen's lips in order to hear her. "Something happened inside of me," she said. "I don't know how to explain it. It was like a fire burning inside my body."
"What did you do about it?" Marilyn asked softly.
"I ran," Ellen answered, "as fast as I could. Back to my house. But it didn't help."
"Of course it didn't," Marilyn answered. "You can't run away from yourself. What you were feeling was sexual excitement. It's perfectly normal. Perfectly natural."
"But from watching girls?" Ellen asked. "Doesn't that mean that I'm perverted or something?"
Marilyn laughed, but not unkindly. "Of course not," she answered. "Watching those two turned me on too. In fact, the minute they left, I dragged Ralph into the sack for a quickie."
"I know," whispered Ellen, shutting her eyes tightly and shaking her head from side to side. "I came back and watched that, too." She was crying softly now, the dam which held back her emotions having been shattered completely, and the words flew from her like an ocean suddenly uncorked.
"And that's not all," she continued. "Last night while Teddy was sleeping, I let one of his buddies make love to me. And it was wonderful." She began now to tell her story, right from the beginning. She started with the week that she and Teddy had spent together at Momma's house after the wedding. She described in quick embarrassed phrases the way he climbed onto her and then rolled off a moment later with no apparent thought for her happiness or satisfaction. Then she spoke about the past week-the way he had been ignoring her, bringing his buddies home almost every night for dinner and beer. She told about his swift and abrupt rejection of her advances when they were alone together in their bedroom and about the frustration which built inside her, making her easy prey for Teddy's smoothly operating buddy from New York.
When she had finished, Marilyn said nothing, allowing the girl to cry for a while, her tears wetting the front of Marilyn's sweater. Then, shaking her head sadly, she whispered, "Oh, you poor kid. You feel so guilty. So ashamed. And there's no good reason for it."
"But what about yesterday," Ellen wailed. "I peeked at you and Ralph while you were making love. Aren't you angry at me?"
"Not at all," Marilyn said, stroking the girl's soft blonde hair. "In fact, I kind of wish I had known about it yesterday. Knowing would have made it more exciting."
Ellen looked up at her, her eyes sparkling with salty tears. "Really?" she said, incredulous. "Do you mean it?"
"Of course," Marilyn answered. "There's a little bit of voyeur, and a little bit of exhibitionist in all of us. That's why Ralph's pictures sell so well." Then, putting a conspiratorial tone in her voice, she asked, "Tell me. Did you like what you saw?"
"Oh, Marilyn," Ellen said, her voice breathy with awe. "It was wonderful. I'll never forget it. I think you've got the most beautiful body I've ever seen."
"Really?" Marilyn asked, sitting up and running her hands over the softly curving contours of her own bosom.
"Really!" Ellen answered. "Why, next to you, I feel like a scrawny little kid. Flat-chested. No ass. No real shape at all, to speak of."
"Nonsense," Marilyn answered, looking her friend over appraisingly. "I think you've got a very interesting body. There's something sexy about that slender, boyish look. Why do you think it's so popular among high-fashion models?" Then, running her eyes carefully over the front of Ellen's blouse, she added, "But there are a few things you could do to make yourself look better.
For one thing, why do you wear those tight bras all the time?"
"I don't know," Ellen answered. "I always have, that's all."
"Well it's time for a change," Marilyn said. "Let's start by getting rid of that harness." Matter-of-factly, she reached for the buttons at the front of Ellen's flannel, boy-cut blouse.
Before the younger girl realized what was happening, Marilyn had completely opened the front of her top and was pulling it over her shoulders. Ellen cooperated automatically, raising her arms to allow her friend to remove the blouse completely. As soon as it was off, Marilyn reached for the clasp of her bra. In a trice it was open, and the crisp white cups of the constricting undergarment were sliding from her small, funnel-shaped tits.
"See that," Marilyn said, cupping one of the fleshy cones in her hand. "You're not as flat-chested as you thought you were. I think there's lots of meat here." She squeezed gently as she spoke, to emphasize her words. Ellen was embarrassed at first, but her embarrassment soon gave way to another feeling. One which was becoming more and more familiar to her.
Her loins began to tingle with a shimmering heat which was rapidly spreading throughout her body. She felt her nipple stiffening to rake at the palm of Marilyn's hand, and looked down to see the rosy little point protruding from between Marilyn's fingers. The redhead moved her hand in a circle, rolling the rubbery nubbin of flesh between her index and middle fingers. Ellen bit her lip and sighed involuntarily. "Ooooooohhhh," she moaned. "I don't think you ought to do that." But deep down, she hoped that her red-haired neighbor would continue. The tingling sensation which had begun in her pussy was covering her body with gooseflesh. And her tits felt warm and liquidy, as though they were being bathed in heated oil.
Marilyn toyed lovingly with Ellen's tits, moving her hands from one to the other. With her fingers, she rolled and petted, stroked and caressed, applying that special knowledge that only another woman could have. Her fingers twisted Ellen's long cylindrical nipples gently, twirling and tweaking them until Ellen moaned again. "Ooooooooh," she said, "that feeeeeellllls soooooo gooooooooood."
"Of course it does," Marilyn answered. "It's supposed to. That's the way the human body is made. There's nothing to fear. And nothing to be ashamed of. You haven't done anything wrong. And you're not doing anything wrong now, either." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Why don't you just lean back and enjoy it?" Ellen sighed and lay back on the bed.
What started as a demonstration of how to dress more attractively had certainly gone far afield. And Marilyn, like her naive young friend, was fascinated with the erotic results. She wanted to go further, deeper. She liked the feel of Ellen's small but sharply pointed tits in her hand. It excited her in a strange new way. This was the first time she had ever had sexual contact with another girl, although she had thought about it often. It felt good, and she found herself becoming aroused more than she had in as long as she could remember.
"Would you like to hold me this way?" she asked, continuing to twist and roll the sensitive nipples of Ellen's creamy boobs. "I'd like it if you would."
Ellen said nothing and turned away, ashamed to meet her friend's glance. She wanted, more than anything, to hold Marilyn's firm and ample tits in her hand, to stroke and pet them the way her friend was caressing hers at this very moment. But she was afraid-embarrassed and ashamed of her own sexuality.
Taking her hands from Ellen's naked bosom, Marilyn gripped the border of her sweater and pulled the garment off over her head. Her breasts were full, round, and high-nippled, even without the support of a brassiere. Ellen watched them quiver from side to side as Marilyn tossed her sweater to the floor. Then, as the twin melons settled back into place, she reached tentatively for one of them, still unable to look her friend in the eyes. Compared to her own tits, the redhead's were mountainous. They were like tasty but forbidden fruits; ripe, sweet, and waiting to be plucked.
Ellen gasped involuntarily when her fingers closed experimentally over the resilient softness of Marilyn's pink-capped mountain. It felt even bigger than it looked. And the touch of its creamy smoothness against the perspiring surface of her exploring hand was kindling a fire in her pussy and generating a heat which threatened to melt her down and reduce her to a steaming puddle of flowing licentiousness. "Oooooooooohhhh," she sighed. "You feel so big. And so soft."
"Hmmmmmmm," Marilyn hummed with pleasure as Ellen's fingers traced the contours of her breast. The girl's whispered words of admiration sounded almost reverent, and they rang excitingly in the redhead's ears. Marilyn had never been worshiped before. "Hold them both," she implored, groaning as Ellen cupped her other breast in obedient response to her passionate supplication. Ellen's fingers were becoming bolder, meandering over the contoured surfaces of her swaying boobs like astronauts exploring the surface of the moon.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmm," crooned Marilyn as Ellen's inexperienced digits caressed her naked bosom, tweaking and petting the strawberry-sized nipples with obvious delight. She could feel the juices of her pussy flowing freely, seeping out from between the moist red flanges which guarded the entrance to her womb and dampening the crotch of her panties. She wore a long patchwork skirt which reached almost to the floor when she was standing. But as she sat, writhing under her new neighbor's erotic touch, it rode up to her waist, exposing her shapely legs and offering a glimpse of the shadowy triangle between her thighs.
Ellen looked down at Marilyn's pussy as she stroked and petted the woman's tits. The softness of Marilyn's body and the silky smoothness of her skin was having a calming effect on the young blonde's nerves, and, for the first time in almost two weeks, she felt truly relaxed. She wanted to hold her attractive friend's body close to her, and to snuggle securely in its warmth. And she wanted more. She wanted to hold her forever, to stroke and caress her, and to make her body tingle and her spirit soar. She wanted to return each of the pleasure that Marilyn had given her tenfold. With brazenness which she didn't think she possessed, she dropped one hand to Marilyn's lap, resting the backs of her fingers against the cushiony mound of her red-furred, panty-covered pussy.
"Oooooooohhhh, yesssssssss," Marilyn hissed. "Ooooooooooooohhhhh, yeeeeessssssss." Her body was atremble with shimmering waves of shuddering pleasure which flooded her being and set all her nerve ends in motion. Her entire body pulsated, like an electronic beacon, humming with desire and purring with erotic energy. "Please, Ellen," she murmured. "I want to hold you too. Please. Take your clothes off."
Taking her hands from Ellen's tits, she stood quickly, stepping from her skirt and stripping the secretion-moistened panties from her legs. Ellen just sat staring up at her, entranced as the dewy wisp of material fell away to reveal the fiery red triangle of Marilyn's pubic bush. The hair of her cunt was even redder than the hair of her head, and Ellen felt a crazy desire to tangle her fingers in it, and press her face against it, inhaling the heady aroma of her womanhood.
She stood quickly, as Marilyn had done, her hands going to the waist of her snug-fitting jeans. She tugged at the snap and pulled at the zipper, opening the front of her pants and bending forward to pull them from her. Marilyn watched her undress, slipping into the bed behind her and stretching comfortably. She ran her hands sensuously over the softness of her own breasts and thighs, her eyes locking on the spectacle of Ellen's pussy, dewy, red, and wide-open, framed by the columns of her legs as she bent to pull her white cotton panties from her ankles.
Reacting to a sudden whim, Marilyn's hand stole to the side of the bed where she flipped a switch connected to Ralph's automatic camera. She hoped that Ralph had gotten around to putting in a new roll of film. If he had, the camera would be photographing her and Ellen for the next seventeen minutes, its shutter clicking silently every thirty seconds. When, at last, Ellen turned to face her, completely naked and breathing hard, Marilyn smiled, giving no indication of what she had done. Maybe she would show the pictures to Ellen later, when she was sure that the girl was ready to deal freely with her budding sexuality. Patting the mattress beside her, she said, "Come, Ellen. Lie beside me and make me feel good."
Ellen stood for a moment, rubbing the hairy bush surrounding her tight young cunt with the flat of her hand and looking down at Marilyn's lush nudity. Her lust was mounting, but she didn't feel helpless, as she was last night in the arms of Randy Siegel. This time, she was going into it with her eyes open. She would seize the moment, taking pleasure where she found it, satisfying her needs in any way she could. And damn the consequences.
She didn't hear the camera click when she lowered herself to the mattress next to Marilyn, her senses dulled by her desire. Her hands went immediately to the older woman's body, stroking her breasts and belly hungrily. Now that she had gotten started, it was becoming easier and easier to be sensuous. All that it took was to let her mind go blank. To block out the myths and half-truths with which she had been raised, and to listen, at last, to the dictates of her body. To give expression to a need which had been evolving for millions of years and which was not, at any cost, to be denied.
She moved her right hand closer to the luxuriant growth of curling red fur which upholstered Marilyn's pleasure dome, her fingers trembling nervously. While she continued cupping and kneading the older woman's breasts with her left hand, she began petting and rubbing the moist slash of her pussy with the right. She could feel the lips flowering open for her, inviting her fingers to slip inside for a steamy soaking in the gushing juices of her excitement.
Marilyn writhed and squirmed under the young blonde's erotically exploring touch. Although she had a great deal more sexual experience than the young mid-westerner, they met as equals since it was the first time that either of them had lain with another woman. Ellen's fingers were soft, and more tender than any man's had ever been. She probed and pried at Marilyn's cuntlips with a gentleness born of understanding, the understanding which only another woman could have.
Ellen felt the slimy folds of red, hair-fringed orifice rolling back to expose the beefy interior of Marilyn's vaginal cavity. She leaned forward, bringing her nose as close to the slit as she could without actually coming into contact with it. It had a sweet and spicy aroma, and it made Ellen think of the Orient-a dark, mysterious place filled with secret nooks, crannies, and crevices that one could spend a lifetime exploring.
Then, with a strangled cry of lustful desire, she bent forward, pressing her lips to the fragrantly flowing slash and drinking deeply of its nectar. She delved with her tongue, licking across the sensitive membranes of the outer cuntlips and then probing deeper, tasting the honeyed secretions of Marilyn's womb.
"Aaaaaaaawwwww," groaned Marilyn, thrilling for the first time to the lingual caresses of another woman in the hot crevice of her pussy. "Ooooooohhhhh. Meeeeee, toooooooo," she howled. She grabbed desperately at Ellen's narrow hips and maneuvered her to a position astride her lust-contorted face. She could see the pouting slit of Ellen's pussy directly above her. It looked shiny and new, tight and hardly broken-in. As she felt Ellen's flapping tongue driving deep into her belly, she saw the girl's cunt opening wide before her in silent invitation. Locking her arms around the young mid-westerner's waist, she pulled her down, pressing the sweet, flowing pussy against her parted lips and sucking mouth.
"Ooooooowwwwweeeee," wailed Ellen, her body galvanized to action as Marilyn's tongue slid cock-like between the lips of her pussy. She rocked and bucked atop the luscious redhead, responding insanely to the stimulation of her sensitive vulva. She moaned and thrashed, trying, when the pleasure became too intense for her to bear, to wrench her pelvis from the grasp of Marilyn's arms. But Marilyn held her tight, moving with her, raising her head to follow the struggling, humping loins.
The girl, who had already been stimulated by the feel and taste of Marilyn's sexy body, was close to climax. When the pointy tip of her neighbor's exploring tongue began to describe a spiraling circle inside her, bringing it into sizzling contact with every section of her spasming cuntal canal, the girl went wild.
"Aaaaahhh. Aaaahhh. Aaaaahhh." she grunted. Each time she moaned, her mouth and throat vibrated, turning her cunt lapping tongue into the world's most effective vibrator. Marilyn's cries joined her own, filling the air of the little mountain cabin with a harmonious chorus of ecstatic instrumentation.
Marilyn's buttocks slammed against the mattress as she brought her ass down hard under the penetrating probes of Ellen's inexperienced but enthusiastic tongue. "Oooooooooooohhhhhhhh, Eeeelllleeeennnn," she wailed. "I'm goooiiinngg toooooo cuuuummmm."
"Ooooohhhh, meeee, toooooo," sobbed Ellen, her hips rolling madly from side to side as Marilyn's tongue churned her juices to a frothy cream-She could feel her orgasm beginning, curling her toes and making her hair stand on end. It gathered momentum like a rolling snowball, and built in intensity like a north-country blizzard. It rose within her like a spring monsoon, crashing resoundingly to a stormy peak which started where last night's climax left off. She screamed like a wounded animal, the all-possessing fury of her pleasure robbing her of every semblance of humanity.
Beneath her, Marilyn was sobbing and moaning, sounding for all the world like a burning witch in the death throes of her final agony. She had become a living, breathing cunt, motivated only by the power of her orgasm and with no other reason for being but the clamorous excitement of sexual satisfaction. Her pussy had been licked by many men-and Ralph was the best of them-but never before had anything felt so good. Never before had an orgasm been so complete or so self-consuming.
She hung for an eternity in the limbo of orgasmic fulfillment. Then, like a leaf in the autumn breeze, she drifted slowly back to earth, reality reintroducing itself in stages. Finally, like Ellen, she lay panting and moaning on the mattress, limp in the afterglow of total consummation.
By the time Ellen returned to her cottage that afternoon, she had spent nearly four hours with Marilyn. They alternated their bouts of furious and uninhibited lovemaking with serious conversations about life, love, and Ellen's new attitude toward sex. Although she was still unsure of what she would do about her marriage to Teddy, she felt relieved. As though the heavy burden which she had been carrying was now resting on another person's shoulders.
To her surprise, she felt no fatigue as she walked up the road. In fact, in spite of her vigorous sexual exercise, she was feeling stronger and more energetic than she had ever felt before in her life. A motorcycle was parked next to her front porch, but after looking around quickly for its rider, she shrugged and walked inside. There sitting at the table, a bunch of flowers in his hand, was Randy Siegel. He held the flowers out to her as she entered the room. "Hello, Siegel," she said, surprised to see him.
"Aaaaahhh. Aaaahhh. Aaaaahhh." she grunted. Each time she moaned, her mouth and throat vibrated, turning her cunt lapping tongue into the world's most effective vibrator. Marilyn's cries joined her own, filling the air of the little mountain cabin with a harmonious chorus of ecstatic instrumentation.
Marilyn's buttocks slammed against the mattress as she brought her ass down hard under the penetrating probes of Ellen's inexperienced but enthusiastic tongue. "Oooooooooooohhhhhhhh, Eeeelllleeeennnn," she wailed. "I'm goooiiinngg toooooo cuuuummmm."
"Ooooohhhh, meeee, toooooo," sobbed Ellen, her hips rolling madly from side to side as Marilyn's tongue churned her juices to a frothy cream-She could feel her orgasm beginning, curling her toes and making her hair stand on end. It gathered momentum like a rolling snowball, and built in intensity like a north-country blizzard. It rose within her like a spring monsoon, crashing resoundingly to a stormy peak which started where last night's climax left off. She screamed like a wounded animal, the all-possessing fury of her pleasure robbing her of every semblance of humanity.
Beneath her, Marilyn was sobbing and moaning, sounding for all the world like a burning witch in the death throes of her final agony. She had become a living, breathing cunt, motivated only by the power of her orgasm and with no other reason for being but the clamorous excitement of sexual satisfaction. Her pussy had been licked by many men-and Ralph was the best of them-but never before had anything felt so good. Never before had an orgasm been so complete or so self-consuming.
She hung for an eternity in the limbo of orgasmic fulfillment. Then, like a leaf in the autumn breeze, she drifted slowly back to earth, reality reintroducing itself in stages. Finally, like Ellen, she lay panting and moaning on the mattress, limp in the afterglow of total consummation.
By the time Ellen returned to her cottage that afternoon, she had spent nearly four hours with Marilyn. They alternated their bouts of furious and uninhibited lovemaking with serious conversations about life, love, and Ellen's new attitude toward sex. Although she was still unsure of what she would do about her marriage to Teddy, she felt relieved. As though the heavy burden, which she had been carrying was now resting on another person's shoulders.
To her surprise, she felt no fatigue as she walked up the road. In fact, in spite of her vigorous sexual exercise, she was feeling stronger and more energetic than she had ever felt before in her life. A motorcycle was parked next to her front porch, but after looking around quickly for its rider, she shrugged and walked inside. There sitting at the table, a bunch of flowers in his hand, was Randy Siegel. He held the flowers out to her as she entered the room.
"Hello, Siegel," she said, surprised to see him.
"What are you doing here?"
"The name's Randy," he answered, his handsome face lit by a grin which contained just a trace of licentiousness. "And I just dropped in to say hello."
CHAPTER SIX
Teddy's eyes crossed and uncrossed several times in an effort to focus on his surroundings. He was lying naked on a padded table in a small windowless cubicle with bare white walls and a low ceiling. And he had no idea how he got there. His head spun crazily when he attempted to sit, so he settled back and tried to organize his thoughts.
The last thing he remembered clearly was being at a huge party on the base. It had started out officially to celebrate the christening of a new nuclear submarine. But as the afternoon wore on the lofty spirits became loftier, the party gathered steam. And by the time his shift was over, Teddy had already accepted offers from at least a dozen guys with privately stashed bottles of booze who were running their own little celebrations. When a gang of the fellows decided to make the rounds of a few downtown bars after duty ended, it seemed natural to go along.
He remembered going from one bar to another, swallowing shots and washing them down with beer. Sometimes the gang split into smaller factions, going into different places and regrouping later on. Teddy couldn't remember the names of any of the bars he had been to, and had long since lost count of the drinks. He had a vague recollection of somebody getting a bright idea that set all the sailors to whoopin' and laughin'. But he couldn't remember what it was. And, as he looked around, he realized that he had no idea of where he had ended up.
Suddenly a woman's face bobbed into his field of vision, and he blinked hard to clear the mist from his eyes. "Where am I?" he asked, trying to bring her face into focus.
"Hah!" she snorted. "Where am I? I bet you tell that to all the girls. You're in the Lone Star Massage Parlor, honey. And I'm here to make you feel good. My name's Donna. What's yours?"
"How did I get here?" he asked, ignoring her question. He was still trying to bring his thoughts together.
"Couple of your buddies poured you in here," she said, stroking his forehead gently. "But it looks like you managed to get undressed by yourself. Make yourself comfortable, honey. I'll be right back."
When she left the room Teddy shook his head sharply, trying to dispell the fog which clouded his mind. It was slowly coming back to him now. One of the guys had suggested going to a massage parlor and everyone had seconded the motion at once. He remembered leaving the bar but had no memory of coming in here. Even in his still-intoxicated condition, he was suddenly overcome by a wave of guilt which fell over him like a net.
What the hell am I doing in a massage parlor? he thought, ashamed of himself. I've never been to a place like this before in my life. It didn't seem right, his being there. After all, he was a married man. Although the way things had been going the past week, it didn't seem to be doing him any good. He simply couldn't understand what had come over Ellen.
She seemed to have changed from day to night. First she had been as hot as an iron, and then she became as cold as a long-dead fish. It all seemed to go back to the night that he brought Siegel home for dinner. When he went with her into the bedroom to change his clothes, she had grabbed for his cock like some kind of slut. Then, panting like a bitch in heat, she had asked him to fuck her right there on the spot. The fact that Siegel, his buddy, was sitting right there in the next room didn't seem to mean a thing to her. All she could think about was sex.
But then, the following night when they we alone, she refused him, turning away and sayin that she had a headache. And it had been tha way ever since. Every time he tried to touch he she turned her back and gave him some kind o an excuse.
At first he thought that she might be mad about him and Siegel getting drunk and passing out that way. But she'd had plenty of time to get over that little incident. And, instead, she was getting colder every day. It had been more than a week since he had fucked her last, and he found his frustration building. Guess I'm entitled to this massage, he thought. Man's gotta have some kind of outlet.
Just then Donna walked back into the room, a white towel folded over her arm and a bottle of oil in her hand. "Your friends paid me for a topless massage," she said, setting the oil down on a corner of the table. "Is that all right with you?"
"I'll say it is," Teddy answered, his eyes opening wide as she removed the skimpy halter which had barely covered her oversized breasts. Her tits were large and pendulous, with brownish nipples that were the size of prunes and pointed at the floor. Teddy drew his breath in sharply when she shook her shoulders to set the mammoth balls of flesh in motion, making them sway obscenely from side to side. Then she smiled.
"Like what you see?" she asked.
"Do I!" Teddy answered, reaching weakly for her with one trembling hand.
"Don't be naughty," she said, slapping his hand lightly. "You can look. And you can dream. But that's all. No touching allowed."
"All right," Teddy said sheepishly. "I'm sorry." He stared at her tits as he spoke. Even looking at them-soft, enormous, and rolling from left to right as she reached for the oil-was almost more than he could bear. His cock was so stiff and hard that it ached him painfully. It jerked and twitched in mid-air, pointing at the naked tits which hovered over it.
Teddy had never seen such a magnificent pair of tits. Not even in the magazines that he kept hidden in his desk at the base. They were at least ten times the size of Ellen's. And those nipples! They looked so juicy and ripe that he wanted to pop one into his mouth and suck on it. Something he had never done to his wife. Ellen's tits were small and pointy, and he had never really gotten into playing with them. Not since that time in the barnyard when they were breeding her momma's cow to Mr. Wilson's black bull.
Donna placed one hand on his naked thigh and Teddy tore his eyes reluctantly from her bobbing tits to look into her broad, soft-featured face. "Will oil be all right?" she asked, showing him the bottle.
"Sure," he said. "Anything you say." She started to work on him at once, pouring oil onto his thighs and rubbing his legs with long, firm strokes that began just below his crotch and ended at his ankles. "Hey," he said. "Those buddies of mine. The ones that brought me in here. Who were they? How many were there?"
Donna snorted. Her hands were rubbing his chest now, smoothing the oil over his hairless pectoral muscles and whirling it around the buds of his stiffening pink nipples. "Hundreds of 'em," she answered. "They're hanging from the rafters in here. And in every other parlor in town. What the hell's gotten into the U.S. Navy this evening?"
Her hands were gliding teasingly across Teddy's oily belly, nudging at his pubic mound and tangling in his bristly golden cock hair. "Oooooh," he moaned at the surprise contact, "that's nice."
"You mean you want more of it?" she teased, her hands grazing his thighs again. His skin was covered with fragrant oil, and the movements of her fingers across its slick and glistening surface sent little bolts of desert lighting flashing through the nerves of his groin. His cock bobbed and twitched as her hand circumnavigated his scrotum, her fingertips trailing lightly through the hair which surrounded it without actually touching the wrinkled sac.
Teddy dug his heels into the mattress which covered the top of the massage table, arching his back and trying to push his balls up into her hand. But Donna's hand traveled with him, still remaining a hair's breadth away from the surface of his scrotum. She was an expert at this game, having played it with hundreds of men. She'd touch his balls, all right. And his cock as well.
But not until she was good and ready.
The big-breasted masseuse really enjoyed her work. She had never been pretty, her hair stringy and her face pocked with the remnants of a childhood bout with measles. Her figure tended to be overweight, and although her tits were big enough to attract men's attention, they sagged too much to hold it for very long. Until she came to work at the Lone Star, she had led a lonely life. Most men didn't give her a second glance, and she spent most of her evenings alone, in front of the TV set or curled up with a good book.
But for some reason which she didn't completely understand, the men who paid fifteen or twenty dollars to be jerked off on a massage table all thought she was some kind of sex goddess. Lots of them were even willing to pay an extra ten at the desk just to have her take her top off while she massaged them, even though all they got to do was look. And when her fingers wrapped around their cocks, they all became her slaves.
Sometimes, she liked to make a customer beg, teasing him for half an hour by playing with his nuts and asshole, but refusing to touch his cock. Then, when she announced that the time was up, and pretended to be leaving the room, he would begin pleading with her, offering as much as fifty dollars to induce her to finish the job which she had started.
But Donna would act offended that he even suggested such a thing, and torment him a little longer by threatening to call the manager. Finally, when he looked like he was ready to cry in frustration, she would sweep back into the room and take his throbbing cock in her hand, pulling vigorously until the air was filled with groans of pleasure, and the sheet which covered the table was stained with thick gobs of sticky gism.
She toyed, for a moment, with the idea of giving this one the same treatment, but decided against it. There was never any telling what a drunken sailor would do, and she didn't want to get anybody stirred up tonight. Especially not with that bunch of rowdies outside. She wrapped her fingers around the thick, blue-veined shank of his throbbing cock and pulled upwards gently, sliding its thick, fleshy collar up over the swollen crown.
Teddy sighed deeply as he felt her fingers caressing his hard-on. "Aaaaaaahhhh, yeeesssss," he intoned. "That's the way I like it."
But she stroked his penis only twice and then let it slip from between her fingers to begin playing once again with the fleshy bag of stones which dangled between his widely splayed thighs.
"Oooooouuuuunnnnngggg," Teddy gasped, disappointed to find his cock unattended. His hips began waving from side to side, trying desperately to move his pulsating erection into contact with her hands.
She teased him for a while, stroking his inner thighs and running her hands quickly over the cheeks of his ass whenever he lifted it clear of the table. Then, when he looked like he could stand her little game no longer, she returned to his loins. Tickling his scrotum with the fingertips of one hand, she used the other to pour oil directly onto the throbbing purple knob which capped his long, tapered fuck-pole. Then, twirling her fingers over its glistening surface, she rubbed some of the slimy fluid into the winking slit which bisected his glans.
"Ooooooooohhhh," moaned Teddy, arching his back to lift his hair-covered buttocks off the tabletop. He felt one of her fingers slipping under and behind his dangling scrotum, worming around in a tight little circle and searching for his anus. Relaxing the muscles of his thighs, he lowered his body quickly, trapping her hand between his ass and the sheet.
"Ooooooh," Donna muttered, shaking her voluminous breasts over his face while she ran her free hand up and down the length of his cock. "A wise guy, huh?" As she spoke, she stiffened one captive finger and drove it against the tightly puckered lips of his oil-moistened asshole.
"Uuuuuunnnhhhh," Teddy grunted, lifting his body again in a vain effort to escape the spearing penetration of his rectum. But his gyrations drew the cheeks of his ass even further apart, and made it easier for her to plunge forward with her finger, driving it into his tight brown slit as far as the second knuckle. At the same time, she grasped his prick in her other hand and began jerking it slowly up and down.
"Oooooohhh. Ooooohhh. Ooooohhh." wailed the naked young sailor, trying to match the rhythm of her movements with the tempo of his rolling hips. But each time his pattern coincided with hers, she changed gears, using his cock like the handle of a four-speed floor shift, and refusing to allow him the security of knowing what would happen next. While she rubbed his swollen organ, her finger pressed onward, plunging the depths of his anal cavity until her palm pressed flat against his ass.
At first his asshole resisted her digital intrusion, fighting painfully to close its puckered opening against the onslaught of her plundering finger. He had never thought of his ass as a sex organ, and was amazed at how much pleasure he was deriving from its stimulation. He wondered if women's asses were as sensitive and resolved to find out, first chance he got.
Actually, he knew very little about sex, having received his entire sexual education from a paperback book which fell into his hands in his father's store one day, when he was about fourteen. Between his illicit reading and the scuttlebutt that he had heard from the other boys at school, he had acquired a very meager working knowledge of sex. Ellen was the only girl he ever dated. And the sum total of his sexual experience consisted of the five or six times that he stuck his cock into her pussy, wiggling it around for a few seconds before emerging, relieved and shrunken.
But Donna really knew her business. Her hands were driving him wild, setting his writhing body in motion. As he bucked and rolled on the table before her, she leaned forward to brush his face with the dangling nipples of her flabby, pendulous breasts.
"Mmmmmmm," he moaned, opening his mouth in a frantic attempt to capture the rosy morsel. But she pulled back out of reach, laughing at his muffled groan of frustration.
"Easy, fella," she chided. "I'm in charge here." As if to embellish her statement, she gave her ass-reaming finger a vicious twist, bruising the membranes of his anal passage and making him wince and cry out in pain.
"Noooooo," he wailed. But the pain was mingled with pleasure, and his complaint was not convincing. Donna's hand was pumping swiftly up and down around his cock, smearing it with oil and bringing a steady stream of prostatic fluid from its slitted tip. Some of the oil had trickled down over his scrotum and between his buttocks to grease the shadowy crack of his anus. And as her finger moved inside it, her knuckles carried the oil all the way to its rubbery interior, lubricating the pulsating walls of his contracting rectal chasm.
His body responded to the double stimulation of his genital plane by thrashing about on the white-sheeted massage table like some mindless reptilian throwback to the dinosaur age while his head spun drunkenly. Donna was getting a kick out of the horny young sailor's passionate gyrations. The way he was acting, you'd think he'd never gotten a hand-job before.
"You like that, honey?" she asked, pulling on his cock like the handle of some Las Vegas slot machine, guaranteed to pay a jackpot on every spin of the wheels.
"Ooooohhh, yeeessss," he hissed in answer to her question. "I don't know how much more of it I can stand."
"That's all right," she answered. "This isn't an endurance contest." Pulling her finger from his ass, she concentrated on his cock with both her oily hands. Gripping it in her fists, she twisted in opposite directions, as though wringing out a towel. The thick coating of oil which lubricated the surface of his pulsating bludgeon prevented the friction of her manipulations from injuring his sensitive membranes. For Teddy, it felt better than anything ever had before.
His mind had retreated to some dark cobweb corner of his being, leaving his body unattended -a driverless train in a complex railway system. Each time Donna reversed the direction of her wringing hands on his cock, his body vibrated like the sympathetic strings of a sitar. And each time she tweaked the massive knob which crowned his pulsating member, he howled like a triumphant coyote celebrating its kill.
Donna looked down to see the head of his turgid prick swelling to even greater dimensions. Its color deepened, darkening to a rich purple indigo, as the thick-bodied instrument of lust became engorged with hot, pulsing blood. She knew that his desire was close to achieving its fulfillment, that his cock would soon be spitting its hot load of syrup into the air in a jetting series of whirling droplets that would wet everything in the path of their obscene trajectory.
When she was certain that his climax was imminent, she speeded the motion of her hands, their movements blurring into a surrealistic flow of erotic sensuality. To satisfy a kinky whim which flitted suddenly across her consciousness, she pointed his cock towards her, aiming it directly at her bobbing titties and continuing to jerk and stroke it until the first bubbling blast of steaming joy juice shot from its tip. The thick white bug of semen sailed through the air in a long graceful arc which brought it splashing across the pebbled surface of one brown nipple. Its viscous warmth bathed the puckering nubbin, raising it to fully turgid erection.
Donna moved her body as she masturbated Teddy's cock, bringing a different area of breast into the target area each time it spat. Teddy's eyes opened wide in amazement as the girl pulled his prick, milking it greedily and catching every last drop of his fiery secretions on the swelling curves of her naked tits.
He puffed and panted like a tired old steam engine while his body writhed and wriggled, electrified by her touch on the throbbing surface of his penis. When his orgasm ended, her tits were coated with a slimy sheen of gism which caught the light and reflected it obscenely. And her nippies glistened.
"What do you think, sailor?" she asked, when his once-mighty cock had shriveled to a weak and helpless lump of flaccid meat. She cupped it tenderly in her hand like a sparrow with a broken wing. "Did you get your money's worth?"
She swabbed his cock with a towel, rubbing gently to remove all the traces of semen which still clung to its shrunken head. Reserving a clean corner of the towel, she wiped her cum-streaked tits with it, drying them thoroughly before reaching for her halter-top.
"I got somebody's money's worth," he answered, struggling to a sitting position and climbing unsteadily from the table. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he began to sway, and for a moment it looked to Donna like he was about to fall down. Reaching for her shoulder, he steadied himself. "Hey," he said, "I think I'd better drive. Still too drunk to walk."
Donna shrugged. "We don't claim to cure intoxication," she said. "But it sure beats black coffee."
"Coffee, hell!" Teddy proclaimed. "What I need is another drink? Where are my buddies?"
"You'll probably find some of them in the steam room," she said. "Trying to sober up. Maybe you should do the same."
"This place has a steam room?" he asked, his voice incredulous.
"You'd better believe it," she answered sardonically. "Not all of our clients are horny young sailors. We get some pretty classy businessmen, too. Come on. Wrap yourself in that towel and I'll show you the way."
Teddy did as she directed, wrapping a white towel around his waist and following her from the room. She stuffed his clothes into one of several lockers which lined a corridor wall, handing him a numbered key. Then she pointed to a door at the end of the hall. "Right through there," she said. "But watch your step. It's hard to see in all that steam. And in your condition, you'd better be careful you don't trip and break your face."
"Nemmine that bullshit," he muttered. "I'll be all right." He staggered down the hall in the direction she had indicated, not stopping until he collided with a large metal-covered door. Leaning against it with all his weight, he pushed it open, stumbling into the steam-filled tile room which lay beyond it. He cursed softly to himself when he skinned his knee against something which blocked his path, and stood still for a moment, trying to get his bearings.
The huge tile room buzzed with the hum of voices. Most of them, like Teddy's, were distorted and slurred by drink. His ears caught snatches of conversation, and he held his breath, listening intently for a familiar voice. One, which he thought he recognized, was saying, "Anybody know what happened to Teddy Dale?"
He was about to answer when a second said, "Probably went home to fuck his wife." Teddy didn't recognize that one at all, but he was almost certain that the first voice belonged to Siegel. When he spoke again, Teddy was sure of it. But Siegel's words made his blood run suddenly cold.
"I doubt that," Siegel was saying. "That guy doesn't know how to take care of his wife. Why if it wasn't for me, that poor girl would be getting nothing at all." Teddy couldn't believe his ears. He stood perfectly still, waiting to hear more. As soon as his eyes got used to the steam, he would run in there and punch that lying bastard in the nose.
"Aw, cut the bullshit," said the unfamiliar voice. "What the hell you trying to say?"
"Just what it sounds like," Siegel answered. "I've been fucking Teddy's wife steady for about a week now. And I've never had a better piece of ass. Shell do anything I ask."
"I don't believe you," the other one said. "They just got married, didn't they?"
"Yeah, something like that," Siegel replied. "But that buddy of ours doesn't know the first thing about fucking. His wife told me that all he ever does is climb on and climb off. Why, she never even had an orgasm until I got my cock into her." He giggled drunkenly, and Teddy found himself wanting to kill him. "First time I did it," Siegel continued, "Ol' Teddy was zonked out on the kitchen table drunk out of his mind and sleeping like a baby."
Teddy's knees began to shake, and for a moment, he thought that he was going to collapse. His throat filled with the taste of bile as the contents of his stomach churned in an effort to return from whence they came. By a supreme act of will, he managed to choke down the sickening gush of vomit which flooded his mouth. Then, turning to leave the steam room, he ran drunkenly down the corridor to the locker in which his clothing had been stored.
He dressed quickly, not bothering to dry his soaking hair or to tie his shoes. Then he ran outside, standing for a moment on Broadway and blinking at the brightly flashing lights which beckoned invitingly to tourists and sailors, offering them all the forbidden delights and secret pleasures of San Diego night. He didn't know where he was going, or what he would do next. But he had to get away from there. Had to go someplace where he could be alone-to think; to brood; to make his choices.
Alone in a bustling and active city, he looked from left to right, trying to find his direction. Then he headed for the only place left where he felt truly at home-the naval base. There he would find kindred souls. There he would find a solution.
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Teddy pulled the station wagon up in front of the cottage, it was obvious that no one was home. The doors were shut and the shades were all drawn. But he wasn't satisfied until he had walked through the house calling Ellen's name at the top of his lungs. When he woke up this morning, his head was throbbing painfully, but some of the alcoholic haze had lifted. And in the cold, clear light of day, things began to take on a different perspective.
When he staggered drunkenly onto the base last night, he had been irrational and in no condition for logical thought. Fortunately, a couple of his buddies were on night duty, and they spotted him before he got himself into trouble. One of them had gotten the bright idea of stowing him in a rag bin, and they half-dragged, half-carried him into the maintenance building where he spent the night curled up like a rat on a pile of clean rags.
When morning came, he dragged himself into a mop closet where he splashed cold water on hjs face and tried to gargle away the foul, putrescent taste which filled his mouth. At last he managed to clear some of the fog befuddling his brain. And when he was almost lucid again, he reviewed the events of the previous night.
Perhaps he had been too hasty in believing Siegel's words. They had sounded true last night in the steam room. But now that his brain had dried out a little, he realized that they might just as well have been the raving lies of a drunken, loudmouthed braggart. It simply wasn't possible for his wife-his sweet, innocent Ellen-to be guilty of the things that Siegel said she had done.
It was true that she had been neglecting him this past week, brushing him off every time he tried to get into her; but that didn't mean that she was cheating on him. Last night he was drunk. Drunker than ever before in his life. And in his intoxicated state, the resentment which he felt as a result of his involuntary celibacy might have prompted him to accept, too quickly, the handy explanation offered by Siegel for Ellen's strange behavior. And like the pigheaded fool that drink had made of him, he had been unfair to Ellen, convicting her without a trial.
Now, standing in the living room of their little cottage, and certain that she was not at home, he wanted nothing more than to throw himself at her feet and beg her forgiveness for getting drunk and failing to come home last night. She was a good kid. And he was sure that she would understand. After all, boys will be boys.
And as for Siegel, he'd attend to him personally, first chance he got. There were a lot of things he'd take from a buddy, but nobody was going to talk that way about his wife and get away with it. He saw no reason, however, to say anything to Ellen about what he had heard or how he had reacted. After all, she'd have a right to be mad at him forever if she knew that he had, even for one drunken minute, believed her capable of committing adultery.
He looked quickly at the clock and did a double take, opening his eyes wide in surprise. It was really late. They'd have him marked AWOL if he didn't get his ass in gear. There was barely time for him to shower, shave, and get into a clean uniform before reporting to the base. But first, maybe he ought to stop in and see Marilyn, the woman who lived down the road. Maybe she would know where Ellen had gone, and he'd get a chance to talk to her before he left for work.
He left the cottage quickly, leaving the door open in his haste, and heading for Marilyn's cabin at a trot, his feet pounding noisily on the packed dirt road. Stepping up to the door, he knocked loudly, waiting a moment before knocking again. "Hi," he called. "Anybody home?" Nobody answered his knock, and he was about to leave in disappointment when he remembered hearing Ellen mention that the photographer and his wife had converted the cabin's back room to a darkroom where they spent a great deal of their time. Maybe they were in back and didn't hear him calling.
He put his hand on the doorknob, turning it cautiously to see whether it was locked. He heard a click, and the door swung towards him slowly, creaking on its rusty hinges. "Hello," he called, stepping inside. "Anybody here?" He walked through .the tiny kitchen and on into the long, high-ceilinged living room.
Holy shit, he thought. Looks more like a photography studio than a living room. Attracted to the expensive looking equipment which ringed the bed at the far end of the room, he strolled towards it for a closer look. Obviously, no one was home. And he knew that the right thing for him to do would be to leave at once. But he wasn't hurting anything. And he was sure nobody would mind if he just took a look.
As he walked past a small table in the middle of the living room floor, a stack of pictures caught his eye. They looked like dirty pictures, and he couldn't help bending over the table to examine them more closely. When he glanced at the top one, he couldn't believe his eyes. It was of Marilyn, the photographer's wife. She was stretched out on the bed, stark naked, and her hands were touching her tits while a seductive expression played across her face.
He picked up the picture and held it in front of his eyes, feeling his cock harden against the front of his pants as he studied the photo of Marilyn's naked body. Her tits were fantastic. Even better than those on the girl at the massage parlor. They looked firm and full, standing straight out from her body like boulders on the prairie, with no hint of sag. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine what it would be like to hold those two perfect boobies in his hands.
Looking at the picture again, he noticed for the first time that Marilyn was not alone. There appeared to be someone else on the bed with her. But the camera had cut off all but a single naked shoulder which protruded into the picture at the lower right hand corner. Teddy moved the photograph from side to side, trying to get a better look at Marilyn's cunt. But the angle of her leg put it in a shadow, and all he could see were a few curling strands of bristly pubic hair.
Then he remembered the rest of the pictures. Maybe some of them would be of Marilyn too. And maybe he would be able to get a clearer view of the redhead's gorgeous body. Reaching for the stack, he lifted it, trying to remember exactly how he had found it so that he could return it to its proper place before he left. Taking a quick look at the second photograph in the stack, he gasped in shock and horror.
Marilyn was in it all right, naked as before, and lying on her back. Only this time, he could see the person with her as well. And what he saw made him want to puke. Sitting next to Marilyn, one hand on her huge creamy tits, was Ellen, his wife. She too was naked, and, like Marilyn, her face was a mask of sheer animal lust. She looked as though playing with the other woman's breasts was the greatest thing that had ever happened to her. Her eyes were riveted to the redhead's body and she was smiling fiendishly. Teddy simply couldn't understand it.
He thumbed quickly through the other pictures, not wanting to see any more, but unable to stop looking. Each one was more horrible than the last. In one of them, Ellen's fingers were tangled in the curling hair of Marilyn's pussy, tugging at the ragged pink lips and pulling them wide apart. And in another, her lips were pressed to one of the redhead's nipples, sucking on it like a baby with a bottle. In that one, she was on her knees bent all the way forward over Marilyn's recumbent body. The cheeks of her boyish little ass were parted, presenting the camera, and Teddy, with a remarkable view of her cunt and asshole, both of which were coated with a thick and slimy moisture.
Teddy was completely aghast. He couldn't believe that Ellen was capable of such filth. But here was the proof. And the camera didn't lie.
He studied the pictures carefully, becoming sicker and more furious with each one that he saw. The worst, by far, showed Ellen lying on top of Marilyn, her face buried between the older girl's legs. The camera had been in the perfect position for this one, and he could see, very clearly, that Ellen's tongue was in Marilyn's pussy. The thought of his wife licking and smelling the woman's slimy cuntal membranes, which probably stank and tasted of urine, made him gag. And, for a moment, he thought that he would vomit all over the photographs.
But Ellen looked like she was enjoying it. Her eyes were glowing with a strange light, one which Teddy had never seen before. And although he couldn't be sure, it looked like Marilyn was doing the same thing to her. He could see the top of her head, framed by the cheeks of Ellen's sinewy ass, her face apparently pressed against the fount of his young wife's snatch.
Folding the picture with trembling hands, he thrust it angrily in his pocket. He was not certain that he could ever bring himself to look at the filthy thing again, but he refused to leave it there for the perverted, prying eyes of Marilyn or her depraved husband. It was their fault that this had happened to Ellen. For until she came to this terrible place, she had been pure and unspoiled. A fragrant and delicate flower, fresh from a country meadow.
Now she was damaged. Forever soiled. Siegel had obviously been telling the truth in the steam room last night. His wife had betrayed him, giving her body to his buddy like some streetwalking whore. He had been fucking her regularly, he said. She did anything he asked, he said. Ugh! It was making him sick.
Teddy could only begin to imagine what acts of filth and degradation were included in Siegel's "anything." After looking at these pictures, it was evident that there was nothing she wouldn't do. And she was even part lezzie! That was the worst part of all. She must have done the same things to Siegel that she did to Marilyn. Oh, how horrible. Teddy had heard about women who were willing to do things with their mouths and tongues to the cocks of men. But to learn that his own wife was one of them. . . .
"Nnnnnnnnn," he groaned, his hands clenching into fists and his body quivering in anguished frustration. He ground his teeth and slitted his eyes, filling himself with hate .and simmering it in the pressure cooker of his crazed mind. You did this to her, he thought, looking around the little cabin. You did this! Then he exploded, flames of fury burning incitingly at his brain.
"You fucking bastards," he screamed, flinging the rest of the pictures across the room and lashing out with flying feet at the table which had held them. He kicked at it until it flew crazily against a wall, two of its legs snapping as it fell.
"You mother fuckers," he howled, picking up an ashtray which had fallen to the floor and hurling it at one of the floodlights which surrounded the bed. "You bastards. You lousy cocksucking bastards." He began kicking at the tripods which held Ralph's cameras, sending them toppling in all directions and not stopping until they had all fallen to the floor. Then he walked among them, kicking and stomping until the floor was covered with shards and splinters of broken glass mingled with bits of bent and mangled black metal.
"You dirty shit heads. You rat mother fuckers." He continued the stream of invective, now in a softly murmured voice, as he walked around the room, methodically destroying everything in sight. Then, still mumbling, he headed for the door, kicking it open with a vicious swing of his leg.
He walked from the cabin in a blind daze, his mind intoxicated with the violence of his emotion. A few steps out of the door, he bumped into Marilyn, who was returning from a walk to the post office.
"Hello, Teddy," she said brightly, not yet noticing that her cabin door was wide open and swinging on its hinges. "Looking for Ellen?"
Her words ended his silent angry soliloquy. And her smiling face rekindled the fury which gnawed at his vitals. "You cunt!" he spat at her, his voice a shriek. "You lousy rotten cunt." Lashing out with one clenched fist, he hit her hard on the side of the head.
Marilyn rocked, almost losing consciousness from the force of his blow. "What...." she sputtered. But Teddy hit her again, this time in the belly, putting all his weight behind his flying fist.
"Ooooooooh," she moaned, her knees buckling. Blackness was beginning to close in around her and she pitched forward, falling against Teddy's wiry and muscular body. Wrapping his arms around her, he caught her and dragged her backwards into the cabin. Through half-closed eyes, she saw the shambles which he had made of the place, and she turned her head to look up at him, an expression of astonishment on her face. She had no idea of what had gotten into him. But he seemed to have gone berserk. He was like a crazy man, his bloodshot eyes rolling in their sockets.
"Bitch," he spat, shoving her away from him. She tripped over a broken piece of camera, toppling onto her back on the floor. The long faded-denim dress that she was wearing hiked halfway up her legs when she fell, exposing her smooth white thighs to his hostile stare. In spite of his anger, he felt his cock stirring as he looked down at her.
"Please, Teddy," she said, her voice almost hysterical. "I don't know what all this is about, but try to calm down."
"Calm down?" he said, aiming a kick at her but missing by an inch. Marilyn tried to struggle out of his reach, her skirt rising higher. Teddy could see a flash of white as her panties were momentarily exposed. It touched something in his brain. "I know what you deserve," he shouted. "To be fucked like the filthy bitch you are."
Bending forward, he grabbed her skirt, twisting its material in his hands and pulling with all his might. The cloth gave way, parting with a loud rip. He pulled the tatters from her body and flung them across the room. Then he reached for the soft fabric of her white cotton panties.
"No, Teddy," she said, pleading for reason. "Don't make this mistake. You'll regret it all your life. Stop and think about what you're doing."
But the young cuckold was too immersed in his rage to be conscious of her words or of the look of terror which darkened her pretty face. Inserting his fingers under one of the leg bands, he gripped the step-ins at the crotch and tore them from her. Marilyn whimpered as a tattered shred of material pulled deep into her cunt, bruising the sensitive inner membranes. Then he stripped it from her and she was naked from the waist down. Teddy licked his parched lips when he stopped to stare down at her uncovered pussy. The hair-fringed slash was puckered open, its interior exposed and winking a glistening, shiny pink. Marilyn, seeing the look in his eyes, tried to snap her legs together to seal the portal of her sex, but he grabbed her ankles quickly and held them in his vise-like grip.
Pulling them open, he dropped between her thighs, kneeing his way to her crotch. Then, letting go of her ankles, he unzipped his pants and took out his cock. I'll show this perverted little bitch, he thought. I'll fuck her to death. Marilyn tried to wiggle away from him, her body writhing about on the floor in her effort. But he grabbed her hips, pinning her helplessly to the carpet. Her legs, wedged open by his body, kicked futilely in the air behind him. But she didn't scream, knowing that there was no one within a mile to hear or to help her.
Teddy humped viciously with his hips, jabbing at her cunt with the head of his hard-on. His prick struck the soft, silky surface of her inner thigh, bruising her painfully. But, undaunted, he rocked forward again. This time he came closer to hitting the mark. His cock, like an unstoppable battering ram, beat against her, injuring the thin band of skin which separated her dry but pouting vagina from the tight little slit of her asshole.
"Oooooowwwww," she wailed, the pain of his clumsy fumblings bringing tears to her eyes. "That huuuuuuurrrrrrts."
"Then help me," he commanded. "Help me find the hole." He drove forward again, this time attacking her tender clitoral mound with the bludgeon of his dick.
But Marilyn refused to cooperate. She couldn't. Not even if he killed her. She continued to buck and roll in a vain attempt to break free of his grasp, her gyrations constantly changing the position of her pussy and making it impossible for him to do anything but beat her all about the loins with his club-like erection. Then, because it was inevitable, his penis found its goal.
"Noooooooo," she cried as she felt his cock prying at the lips of her cunt, pushing them out of its way as it forced entry into her rubbery-dry vaginal cavity. He drove forward quickly, penetrating her with one long, abrupt stroke. The un-lubricated friction of his first punishing thrust made her scream in agony.
"Ungh," he grunted, the sudden entry of his cock in the too-dry orifice hurting before him. He drew back, withdrawing his sword from her cruelly stabbed pussy until nothing remained inside but its deadly pointed tip. The outer lips of her vulva closed tightly around the fist-like head of his cock, squeezing it erotically in spite of Marilyn's groans of protest. Her sensuous response was automatic, the conditioned reflex of a body which had been fucking for more than a decade.
Its effect on Teddy was extreme. It sent his dangling testicles into a flurrying whirl of activity, working to churn out the sticky white fluid which bloated his scrotum and flooded his tubes. His cock throbbed rhythmically, swelling and contracting in conversation with the well-exercised muscles of her pulsating pussy. Groaning mightily, he rolled forward, burying his bludgeoning cock to the hilt in the tormented chamber of her cunt.
"Oooooooooohhhhhhh," he bawled, feeling the tip of his probing penis crash bluntly against her cervix and eliciting a little grunt of pain from her twisted lips. She was becoming a little looser now, her cuntal walls moistened by the reluctant flow of her lubricating juices. When he pulled back, cocking his hammer for another blow, her cuntlips lapped gently at the silky surface of his penile shank.
They followed its retreat, turning out when his cockhead threatened to slip from their grasp. Marilyn's face stung, where he had struck her, and her belly ached from the force of his punch, but her pussy was beginning to tingle. She had heard that when rape was inevitable the best course to follow was to relax and enjoy it. And she tried to force her body to follow the old one-liner's advice, but she could not. Although her cunt had moistened and the violence of his thrusts were no longer causing her any pain, she continued to fight him with all the strength that remained to her.
She was not horrified at the physical fact of what he was doing to her. She had been fucked violently before, taken by force. But never raped. Being taken against her will was an offense to her integrity as a woman. As a person. And although he was obviously being driven by an insanity which robbed him of all reason and relieved him of responsibility for his acts, she had to fight him. To resist him with all her power or be forever dishonored.
But she didn't have long to fight. For each grinding forward stroke of Teddy's undulating body brought him closer to climax. The tension building inside him was monumental, pressing against his brain from all directions at once and filling his vision with whirling patterns of flashing light. His ears rang to a cacophonous erotic symphony which had started pianissimo but was rapidly building to a mind-shattering crescendo.
"Ooooooooohhhh," he wailed, and Marilyn felt his cock jump inside her. The first hot gush of semen bubbled from its tip, filling her womb with sticky warmth. When his orgasm began, she went limp, her struggling over. He had beaten her. But he hadn't won an easy victory.
She sobbed softly as his penis discharged itself inside her. Unable to prevent it, she had become a receptacle for his lust. She remained perfectly still while he rolled and bobbed atop her, sating his desires now without regard to the violent hatred which had originally impelled him to assault her. Soon he would be finished. And then she would bathe.
When it was done, Teddy rose quickly, buckling his belt and zipping the front of his trousers absently. His eyes were vacant, like the empty windows of a long-deserted tenement. He stood for a moment, looking woodenly at the rumpled figure on the floor. Then he glanced around him, mindlessly surveying the carnage wrought by his tantrum of revenge.
"Not enough," he muttered. "Not e-fucking-nough." Turning his back to Marilyn, he strode purposefully from the cabin.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ellen turned to look at Randy, snoring contentedly beside her. He looked glib and fast-talking even in his sleep, with the corners of his mouth turned up in a sardonic impersonation of a smile. She pulled back the sheet which covered him, exposing his naked body from the waist up. He was strong and muscular, his thick shoulders and arms rippling each time he moved.
Things had been happening so quickly that the hours she spent wrapped in those masculine arms had become precious to her. Too precious to waste on sleep or relaxation. There was never any telling what the next minute might bring.
Yesterday, when Marilyn told her what Teddy had done, she realized that her marriage to him was over. She spent more than an hour with Ralph and Marilyn, helping them to reassemble their shattered possessions. They told her that they didn't intend to give Teddy's name to the police since no purpose would be served by it.
Ralph had to call them, so that he could make an insurance claim for the broken cameras. But he said only that the house had been entered forcibly while he and Marilyn were out. Since the forcible entry of her body was strictly a private matter, and already a fait accompli, they saw no reason to expose it for the amusement of the authorities.
Marilyn's bruises would heal. And a bath had washed away all traces of the brutal penetration. Teddy was obviously unbalanced, and the police were not equipped to deal with sick young neurotics. It would be better to let it slide. No great damage had been done. Ralph's cameras could be replaced. And until they were, he could rent all the equipment he needed. As for Marilyn. Who knows? Maybe if Teddy had asked her nicely. ...
Ellen was grateful for her neighbors' tolerant understanding. She felt sorry for Teddy, even if she didn't love him, and she realized that he had troubles enough without having the police hounding him as well. She was sure that his rampage had been triggered by her affair with Randy. He must have heard about it somehow. Or at least suspected. And there was every reason to believe that he had seen the pictures of her and Marilyn as well.
But she didn't feel guilty. The things she had done were not wrong. If Teddy had reacted to them by acting like a maniac and going on a destructive and violent rampage, the fault was his, not hers. He had driven her to it-ignoring her needs and neglecting her passions until she was forced to seek solace in the arms of another. He had used her-thinking only of himself-as an instrument of masturbation, stroking his cock with the tingling walls of her cunt and then abandoning her, aroused but unfulfilled.
He hadn't been seen since he walked from Marilyn's cabin. And Ellen was relatively certain that he wouldn't come back at all. When Randy dropped in last night, telling her that Teddy hadn't shown up at the base all day, she wasn't surprised. He was probably hiding somewhere, brooding darkly and nursing his wounded pride. When she asked Randy to spend the night with her, he had willingly agreed.
Randy was good for her. When they embraced, his hands moved all over her body, sensitive to her desires and considerate of her wants. He played for hours with her breasts, rolling her nipples in his fingers and telling her how he loved to hold them. He kissed her everywhere, trailing his lips across her skin and lapping, with his tongue, at the sensitive membranes of her pussy.
And when he fucked her, he lifted her to heights of ecstasy which she never thought possible. His cock was thick and gnarled, and stayed hard even after he came. He speared her with it lingeringly, bringing her to one orgasmic peak after another, not stopping until one or both of them was overcome by exhaustion.
Just thinking about it was beginning to make her body tingle, and she wriggled closer to him, pressing her conical tits against one of his bulging biceps. Drawing back the sheet, she uncovered his cock. It lay thick and flaccid across the black shock of shiny hair which covered his loins and lower belly. She leaned forward and kissed it, drawing her lips lovingly down the length of its shaft.
The heavy instrument began to stir, coming to life slowly, like a snake after a long winter's sleep below the frozen ground. His breathing remained deep and regular, evidence of his somnolence. But as her lips nibbled at the wrinkled shaft of his limp penis, it awakened, rising slowly to hardness in a series of twitching jerks. When at last it stood at full erection, it rose straight up from the jungle of his pubic hair, like a pagan monolith in a Congo clearing .
The long white shaft was streaked with pulsating blue veins which throbbed visibly beneath its surface. The swollen circumcised tip turned to a deep, blood-filled maroon when her tongue flitted lovingly across its surface. She licked enthusiastically, savoring thirstily the spicy flavor of his oozing juices.
She loved Randy's cock. Loved fondling it and loved kissing it. She loved the smooth but powerful feel of it against the palm of her hand. And she loved the taste of it when she rolled it in the honeyed warmth of her mouth. Sometimes she played with it, like a child with a new toy. And sometimes she sucked it, as though it were a lollipop with a surprise center. But never, in the week and a half that he had been her lover, did Randy turn from her, brushing her hand from his member and telling her to stop.
And that was what pleased her most about their relationship. She could be completely free with his body, doing anything that popped into her head, without fear of rejection. He would do anything she wanted, no matter how crazy it sounded. Once, at her request, he posed for her on his hands and knees while she licked his scrotum from behind. And another time, he stood over her, jerking off while she lay naked on the bed watching him, until his cock erupted -at last, spraying her face and throat with bubbling gism.
Randy's sexual imagination was fertile, and he had already taught her many things which she had never before even dreamed about. They had made love standing, sitting, and even under the shower. She always did whatever he asked, too, no matter how unusual or perverted it seemed. And she was never sorry. For although his ideas were sometimes kookie-like the time he fucked her with a banana and then ate it greedily-they were always exciting.
Sitting cross-legged on the mattress beside him, she bent over Randy's loins. Opening her mouth wide, she lowered it over his pulsating cockhead, taking him into her mouth but not closing her lips around his gnarled circumference. She puffed gently, bathing his cock with her hot breath. Then, with short, quick jabs of her tongue, she began lapping at it, thoroughly wetting his swollen glans with her glistening saliva.
His prick tasted like musk, and Ellen realized that some of the dried secretions which coated its surface had come from her pussy. The thought of it excited her, stimulating the flow of juices in her womb. Sucking his cock was a little bit like sucking her own cunt. The idea was outrageous. It made her think about the afternoon she had spent making love to Marilyn. And it made her cunt all hot and steamy with desire.
Shielding her teeth with soft, pliant lips, she began sucking voraciously, her cheeks hollowing with the vacuum created by her contracting throat. She worked her way down until the pulsating head of his cock nudged at her tonsils and she was in danger of gagging. Then she moved up again, her lips dragging against the skin of his rod and her tongue wagging from side to side along its sensitive underbody.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm," moaned Randy, his eyes fluttering open. His cock was on fire, his balls burning with desire. And Ellen's skillfully laving tongue was intensifying the searing heat. Craning his neck and squinting against the sunlight which steamed in through the torn window shade, he looked at her. She had certainly come a long way in the past few days.
She was sitting beside him, her legs crossed, and bending over to lap lovingly at his pulsating tower. Her tits, not much bigger than demitasse cups, pointed towards his groin, her nipples thick and erect. Her long blonde hair was loose, and hung around her smooth white face like a halo. Through the gossamer frame, he could see her lips, bowed around the thickness of his cock to form the letter "O".
She was sucking him with all the relish and abandon of a French whore in love with her work. For a girl who had never even touched a man's prick until a few days ago, she really was a fast learner. She was ready for anything, improvising with an instinctive sense of sexual creativity which was refreshing in a girl so inexperienced. But they had already run through most of the positions he knew and he was becoming a little bored with her. She was a bit too skinny and a whole lot too flat-chested for his tastes. Although she had been an interesting interlude, he was beginning to feel the restless need for a change. Soon it would be time for him to start looking for a new chick. Maybe a virgin this time.
"Come here," he said. "And give me a kiss." This was going to have to be a good session. Because it would probably be their last.
Ellen let his cock slip from her mouth, kissing the tip lightly before she stretched out next to him, and wriggled into his arms. Their lips met urgently, their tongues dueling and dancing from one mouth to the other in their lewd battle. His hands glided across her back, tracing the curves of her spine and coming to rest on the sinewy cheeks of her ass.
He pressed her against him, capturing the length of his cock between their bodies, and scouring at it with the thick pad of fur which covered her pubic mound. His fingers pinched and kneaded the firm flesh of her buttocks, using them as handholds in controlling the movements of her body. When the tip of his middle finger began to probe at the dark and mysterious crevice between her cheeks, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.
Her asshole was extremely sensitive to sexual stimulation, although she had only discovered it recently. Last night, before going to sleep, Randy had licked her pussy for what seemed like hours. And each time his tongue strayed lower, to jab delicately at the puckered brown nut of her anus, she had grunted in pleasure. Now his finger, poking and probing at the tautly elastic sphincter muscle which guarded her nether opening, was recreating the delicious excitement of last night's anal stimulation.
"Oooooooohhhh, Randy," she moaned, when his fingertip succeeded at last in penetrating her barrier and burying itself in her asshole's rubbery warmth. For an instant, she felt a searing pain, but it quickly faded as the muscles of her virginal rectum adjusted to the digital intrusion. Her hips bucked involuntarily, animated by her rising excitement.
He moved his finger around inside her, stroking the walls of her bowel as he pressed forward. The further he probed, the more explosive her response. She moved like one possessed, a twitching marionette in the hands of an uncontrollably spastic puppeteer.
"Aaaaaah, aaaaah, aaaaah," she sobbed, rolling her hips and grinding her buttocks hard against the palm of his hand. Her anus was closed tightly around him, and the friction of his movements against its lips was heating her beyond the melting point. She bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming insanely. When she tasted his blood, she opened her mouth wide and shrieked.
"Eeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiyyyyyyy," she howled, her passionate cries of excitement inflaming her lover.
"On your hands and knees," he said, pulling his finger from her anus. "I want your ass."
The bestial directness of his words thrilled her, making her feel lusty and sensuous. She complied quickly, getting to her hands and knees and then dropping forward to rest her weight on her elbows. His cock was tremendous, and she knew that it would be a painfully tight fit. But she was far too aroused to be concerned with so inconsequential a thing as pain.
She felt Randy's hands on her buttocks, pulling them apart to reveal the winking brown eye which lay nestled between. A moment later, his hot breath was washing across-her anus, bathing her entire pelvic region in tingling, cloying warmth. Then his tongue, soft and caressing, lapped gently at the puckered lips of her tight and virginal asshole.
"Mmmmmmmmnnnnn," she moaned, humming with joy as his lingual explorations coated her anus with a slimy lubricating sheen of warm, bubbly saliva. Then, rising quickly he kneed forward, placing the head of his thick and rubbery cock against the softly puckered entrance to her lower bowel.
"Hurt me, Randy," she implored. "Hurt me and make me feel good."
Her words went straight to his penis, electrifying it and making it jump. With a powerful thrust of his hips, he plunged forward, driving his member's mushroom-shaped head between the resisting lips of her fragrant nether opening.
"Aaaaaannnngggg," she grunted, the pain of his initial insertion more than she had expected. "Noooooo," she wailed. "It . . . hurts . . . too . . . muuuuuuuuucccccccchhhhhhhh!"
But Randy ignored her cries, plowing onward until another inch of throbbing hard-on had disappeared into her tight anal slit. Then he stopped, giving her stretched and abused membranes a chance to adapt to his entry. Little by little, her rectal muscles relaxed, until the tightly constricting grip of her asshole on the shaft of his cock eased to a snug, but comfortable, caress. Leaning forward, he reached around her and searched with exploring fingers for her hair-covered mount of venus.
He stroked lovingly, until her tiny but vivacious clitoris began stirring within its sheltering hood of shiny pink membrane. As soon as he found it, he began rolling it around with the tip of his index finger, pleased by the soft, sibilant sigh with which she expressed her delight. A moment later, he humped forward again with his hips. '
She felt his cock skewering deep within her, spreading the walls of her anal canal and filling her belly with fluttering spasms of excitement. The moisture which oozed from the slit at the end of his weapon combined with the saliva which he had applied a few moments ago to lubricate her, easing the friction of his penetration.
When his curling mat of pubic hair scoured at her buttocks like a soft pad of Brillo, she knew I that he had buried himself to the hilt in the resilient softness of her sensitive ass. All the pain of his initial intrusion was gone now, having been replaced by an acute sensation of ecstatic sensual I bliss. She could feel the sac which housed his testicles brushing against the backs of her thighs, his forward motion having set it swinging.
Dropping forward to press her shoulders to the mattress, she changed the position of her ass, altering the angle of his penetration. At the same time, she pressed her cunt hard against his diddling hand. Incredible as it seemed, she felt her orgasm was only seconds away. When Randy began rocking rhythmically, pistoning his cock in and out of her ass like a ramrod in a musket barrel, she sobbed aloud.
She felt as though she was going to have two orgasms at once. One, prompted by his rolling and tweaking of her clitoris, would be fast and furious, like a brush fire which sweeps across the prairie leaving nothing but charred destruction in its wake. But the other would be deeper, more fulfilling. It would build slowly, reaching its peak just as the clitoral climax began its denouement. And it would hold her balanced on a long, slender pinnacle until she lost all sense of time and space.
Then, with a shudder which started at her toes and set her whole body atremble, it began. Wave upon wave of glorious ecstasy crashed over her thrashing body, flushing her skin a bright rosy pink. Her cunt flowed like a river, covering his fingers with frothy cream and wetting her thighs and buttocks. Her asshole recoiled and contracted, kissing the shaft of his pistoning penis hungrily and with soulful dedication.
When her excitement reached its culminating zenith, his cock exploded within her, its thick, blood-filled shank expanding tight against the walls of her anal cavity. A gushing torrent of white liquid pumped forth, leaving his cock with eruptive force which carried it deep into her belly. But when, at last, his softening prick pulled from her rectum, a long strand of the sticky goo followed its retreat, connecting him to her ass by a tenuous thread.
They remained so for a moment, poised in the afterglow of total satisfaction. Then Ellen pitched forward to lie face down on the mattress and Randy slid smoothly into position beside her. They lay quietly, listening to the sound of their own breathing, until Randy looked up at the clock.
"Shit," he said. "If I don't get going, I'm going to be late for duty at the base." He jumped from the bed and headed for the bathroom, dosing the door behind him just as the phone or, Ellen's nightstand began to ring.
Lifting the receiver from its cradle, she placed it to her ear and said, "Hello?"
"Hello. Mrs. Dale?" asked a confident nu icu-line voice.
"Yes," she said. "I'm Mrs. Dale."
"This is Lieutenant Bailey, down at the base,' he said. "I wonder if you've seen your husband this morning."
"No," she said. "I haven't. Is there anything wrong?"
"Yes, Mrs. Dale," Lieutenant Bailey answered, his voice serious. "I'm afraid there is. Do you think you can come down to the base? I'd like to talk to you about Ted."
"Lieutenant," Ellen began, "my husband and I have been having marital troubles. And to tell you the truth, it looks like he's left me. So if you don't mind, I think I'd rather stay out of this." Then, relenting, she added, her voice soft, "He's not in any trouble, is he?"
"I'm afraid so, ma'am," was the lieutenant's reply. "He's been AWOL for the past two days, although he's been seen around the base. And last night, he went on a rampage. He assaulted two men, and he stole an explosive device which could present a serious danger both to him and to those around him. I really think it essential that we have a little chat in my office. If it's difficult for you to get here, I can send a car to pick you up."
"No," she said quietly. "A friend of mine will take me there. But I will need a ride home."
CHAPTER NINE
When Ellen woke up, she was alone, naked, and very much in need of male company. It had been two days since she rode to the base with Randy Siegel, sitting on the back of his motorcycle and holding onto him for dear life. He had dropped her in front of the building which contained the lieutenant's office, promising that he would see her later that afternoon back at the cottage.
Her interview with Lieutenant Bailey was brief and to the point. The Lieutenant was a good-looking, mellow-voiced man of about thirty-five who took pride in the rakish cut of his custom-made uniform. He held a degree in sociology and served as guidance counselor and personal advisor to the boys in Teddy's group.
Emotional problems, he explained, were not at all uncommon in recruits of Teddy's age, most of them away from home for the first time. The Navy tried to be as understanding as possible, choosing to treat them as slow adjusters rather than as disciplinary problems. But Teddy had gone far beyond the bounds of temporary maladjustment.
Last night, he had been interrupted by two sentries while trying to break into an ordnance storeroom. When they asked him to identify himself, he attacked them with a crowbar, injuring one of the men seriously enough to require hospitalization. Then he managed to gain entry, stealing a small explosive device and running off into the night.
The navy, explained the lieutenant, preferred to handle its own problems, without involving the local authorities. But unless Teddy showed up within twenty-four hours to return the grenade, there would be no alternative but to notify the San Diego Police. And once that happened, the matter would be out of the navy's hands.
"Mrs. Dale," he said, looking her directly in the eye as he spoke, "I'm sorry to hear about your marital difficulties and I hope that they resolve themselves favorably. If there's anything I can do to help, I'll be happy to try. Perhaps you love your husband, and perhaps you don't. But I want you to understand that you won't be doing him any favor if you help him to hide from the navy. You must make him call me, the minute you see him. Is that clear?"
Ellen nodded gravely, not bothering to explain her reasons for believing that she would not be seeing her husband again for a while. It didn't matter. There was no reason for the navy to know.
When the interview was over, she accepted his offer of a ride and waited patiently while he telephoned to make the arrangements. When she left his office, a blue car with the letters USN, stenciled on its doors was waiting at the curb. Its driver, a callow lad who looked too young to have a license, leaned across the front seat to open I the door for her.
They rode in silence, Ellen speaking only when necessary to give him directions. When they pulled up in front of the cottage, Ellen thanked him and got out of the car. After she watched him drive off, she went inside. She spent the rest of the day straightening the cottage and fixing her hair. She wanted to look good for Randy when he arrived later.
But when he called her, just a little after four o'clock, she knew that he wouldn't be coming to see her anymore. He stammered and stuttered for a while, beating around the bush and talking vaguely about "getting into trouble with the navy", but she knew that he was only making excuses. Cutting him short, she asked, "Is this it, Randy? Is it all over between us?"
"I wouldn't say that," he answered, a casual tone in his voice. "I just think we ought to cool it for a while. But I'll call you in a couple of days. I promise." Ellen hung up without saying good-bye.
That bastard, she thought. He's only been using me. Like Teddy did. Only more skillfully. As she thought about it, however, she realized that she was being unfair. What the hell! Hadn't she been using him, too? She resolved to find herself another lover as soon as possible. Or maybe two. Or three.
But without a car, she found herself tied to the cottage. And for the last two days, she had done nothing but lie in bed. Whenever she felt the need for sexual release, she satisfied it with her own fingers. She masturbated for hours, playing with herself until her juices flowed and her passions were laid to rest. Her fingers were learning to find their way through the maze of folds and convolutions which' wrinkled the walls of her inner cunt. And the tiny red knob at the tip of her little clitoris had become her favorite plaything.
She reached for it now, tangling her fingers in the downy yellow hair which framed her pussy, and rubbing gently across its puckering prominence. She could feel her cuntlips flowering open under the ministrations of her exploring fingers. Spreading them even further with the fingers of her left hand, she dipped into her drooling slit with the tip of her right index finger, Her pussy was a well of moisture, and she bathed her finger in it before withdrawing it slowly and raising it to her lips. Sticking out her tongue, she touched the slime-coated digit tentatively with its pointy tip. It tasted salty and a little bit sweet, reminding her of the taste of Randy's cock when it was turgid and covered with gism.
Returning her finger to her cunt, she stiffened it and thrust it straight inside, wielding it like a miniature cock. With her left hand, she began to stroke her breasts idly. Her nipples hardened to partial erection as soon as her palm began sliding across their puckering surfaces. Halfheartedly, she cupped her hand over her tits, squeezing and kneading them while her stiffened finger fucked in and out of her twat.
Her body tingled with excitement, but it didn't feel half as good as when Randy had touched her. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to imagine that the hands which stroked her body, petting her tits and probing her pussy, were his. She tried to imagine the feel of his cock, hard and throbbing as her fingers wrapped around it. The erotic recollection stimulated the nerve endings which huddled together in the tiny little bud of her clit, bringing it to throbbing erection.
She began to pluck at it with her thumb, moaning softly as a wave of mounting pleasure followed her self-stimulation. Her index and middle finger were inside her cuntal orifice now, scissoring apart and together while her thumb rolled the sensitive little marble around in its hot bed of oil. With her left hand, she stroked her body, leaving her breasts occasionally to rub at the hairy mound of her pubis just above the trembling bud of her super-stimulated clit.
She felt her excitement building, gathering energy like a mushrooming cloud of nuclear fallout and carrying her to the crest of a rolling, curling wave. But something was lacking in her impending climax. All the elements were there--the heat, the torrential flow of fluid, the contracting paroxysms of delight which rippled through her belly and across her womb. But they didn't seem to be assembled in the right order.
Her responses were automatic and her pleasure mechanical. She felt like a starving person who was eating at last. But the meal consisted of three Metrecal wafers and a glass of Tang. Although it filled the belly and nourished the body, it failed to relieve the hunger which gnawed at her guts.
She continued to diddle herself with her hands, adding a third finger to the scissoring pair which pistoned in and out of her cunt. The lips of her elastically stretching orifice were drawn tightly around them, as they used to stretch around Randy Siegel's cock. But the pleasure was not the same. With her free hand, she spread the tight flanges of her shining clitoral hood, exposing the tiny nubbin completely.
Holding the sensitive pleasure button between the thumb and forefingers of her left hand, she pinched and rolled it, turning it back and forth like the stem of a watch. Her juices flowed copiously, wetting her masturbating hand and smearing her legs with fragrant honey. Each time her thumb rolled across the quivering head of her erect little clit, a sigh of arousal tore from her lips.
"Oooooooooohhhhh," she keened. But something about the sound was hollow and empty. It was almost as though she was trying to convince herself that self-stimulation was as pleasing and as satisfying as union with another person. But her body couldn't be fooled.
Even as the first shuddering ripple of orgasmic release began passing across her, she was conscious of her disappointment. Her fingers continued working at her cunt, churning her juices to froth and rolling the shiny softness of her membranes until her entire body hummed. But her climax only relieved her tension, failing to elevate her consciousness.
As her pussy contracted orgiastically, beating like a tentacled sea anemone, she had a sudden fleeting vision of a bathtub filled with dirty water. When the plug was pulled, the water rushed out with a gurgling gush, relieving the strain on the tub walls. But when it was gone, a scummy ring remained, requiring that the tub be filled again immediately.
"Mmmmm! Mmmmm! Mmmmm!" she moaned, the rhythm of her vocalizations matching the rhythm of her orgasm. With each contracting spasm of her pussy she sighed again, hoping that the next wave of glory would be the big one. But instead of building, with a rising action that leads slowly to a high and craggy peak, her orgasm remained level-a series of pleasant ripples which ruffled the calm of her idleness but took her nowhere.
Acting of their own volition, her fingers began to stimulate her vulva the moment the disappointing climax had ended. It was as though her body sought instinctively to rekindle the fires of its own desire, in hopes of achieving the holo-caustal fury to which her association with Siegel had accustomed it. If she had but one wish, it would be for his cock, animated and alive, to be with her this moment. She had been fucking herself for two days now, and each time she tried, she realized again the futility of living alone.
Tearing her hands from her loins in frustrated anguish, she rose unsteadily from the bed. She swayed on her feet, a feeling of dizziness passing quickly over her. She had been in bed for too long. It was time to get up. To get out. It was time to stop wallowing in the bog of self-pity which was evolving from her loneliness.
Padding naked to the bathroom, she decided to shower in hopes that the needlepoints of rushing water would help her to shake the lethargy which had overcome her. Inside the bathroom she closed the door, glancing quickly at her reflection in the mirror. Much had happened in the past week. But she couldn't tell by looking. Except for the tired circles which rimmed her eyes, she looked exactly as she had a week ago.
Then, on closer examination, she noticed another difference. Her cunt: Its lips were bright crimson red, contrasting sharply with the silvery blonde hair which surrounded them. They were pouting obscenely, as though grinning into the mirror. Ellen wondered whether they would remain that way always, now that the tender fruit of her pussy had been plucked and plundered, eaten and disgorged. She rubbed quickly with the flat of her hand, almost surrendering to a tempting urge to begin titillating once more.
By a cold-minded act of will, she tore her hands from her cunt and turned away from the mirror. Reaching for the soap and a clean washcloth, she stepped into the shower stall, turning the knobs to produce a steaming spray which cascaded over her body until she reddened like a boiled lobster.
She lathered the washcloth and rubbed herself all over with it, trying to scrub away the tingling desire which continued to nag at her body. But it was a self-defeating project. For each time she swabbed her breasts with the lathered cloth, her nipples hardened demandingly, crying out for stimulation. And each time she stroked her pouting pussy with its soapy, luxuriant softness, her juices began to flow once more.
Throwing the washcloth into a corner of the stall in anger and frustration, she twisted the faucet handles viciously, changing the shower temperature from steaming hot to shuddering cold. Everyone knew what a cold shower could do for a hopelessly horny woman alone. But for Ellen, it simply didn't work. Instead, as she hugged her body with her thin arms in an attempt to warm herself against the penetrating cold of the shower spray, she found herself responding erotically again, craving the touch of her own fingers for want of a more effective instrument.
Turning off the water, she stepped from the shower and began toweling herself vigorously, trying to ignore the lascivious fingers of desire which were running up and down her spine and parting the lips of her snatch. Oh, damn! she thought. Where will it end?
Then, suddenly, she thought of Marilyn and the afternoon they had spent making love together a week ago. Although it had been a kind of turning point in her life, she had almost forgotten it. It would probably have occupied a more prominent position in her, thoughts if it hadn't been for Randy. She had begun her affair with him almost immediately after leaving Marilyn.
But maybe they could do it again. Maybe Marilyn would be willing to lie with her once more, offering her lush, ripe body for Ellen's amusement and using her lips and fingers for Ellen's satisfaction.
Her hair still damp, Ellen tossed the towel over a corner of the open bathroom door and rushed into her clothes. She put on a skirt and blouse, with nothing underneath. If Marilyn was home alone and willing, she wanted to have as little barrier between them as possible. So, just moments after stepping from the shower, she rushed out of her cottage and hurried down the road to Marilyn's cabin.
CHAPTER TEN
"How about it, man," Calvin said, pacing nervously in the living room of Ralph Bronson's cabin. "Time is money. And I got too much of it invested already. Hell! It took me almost an hour to drive out here. And now I've been waiting forty-five minutes and we're still not ready to work."
"I'm sorry, Calvin," Ralph answered. "Really I am. But I can't help it if Nancy's late. Maybe she had a flat tire or something. She's usually a pretty reliable model. Just give her a few more minutes to get here. Look, I've got money invested, too. I had to rent all this equipment." He gestured to the lights and tripods which were set up around the bed. They had cost him quite a bit, but it would be at least a month before the insurance company replaced his damaged cameras.
"All right," Calvin said, grudgingly. "A few more minutes. But that's all." He' took a cigarette from a pack which he had left on the table and put it to his lips. Holding a match to its tip, he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with smoke.
Calvin was tall and muscular, with skin the color of India ink. He was dressed in a tight fitting maroon body shirt made of some soft, synthetic material which clung to his body, revealing every rippling motion of his perfectly developed chest. The shirt was veed down the front to expose a plunging black triangle of torso with muscles that tightened like steel bands each time he moved his arms. His hair was close-cropped and his long angular face was clean-shaven. His arms were long and bulged like the limbs of an oak; his hands, large and sinewy with long, gracefully tapered but powerful fingers.
He was a very popular man in the skin business. Not just for his virile good looks, but for his phenomenal endurance as well. It was said that Calvin's cock never quit in the middle of a session, no matter how long the session took. He could fuck partner after partner, posing for the camera in the most erotic and exciting positions imaginable, yet delay his climax indefinitely if necessary.
This very special talent made him one of the highest paid porno models around. He had already starred in two full-length feature films-rated X, of course-and his face and body were becoming quite familiar to members of America's fastest growing subculture. He liked Ralph's work, and had been posing for him-off and on-for months. But he couldn't afford to waste time this way.
Ralph looked at him apologetically, shaking his head slowly from side to side. He knew that unless the missing model showed up fast, it would be a long time before he succeeded in persuading the handsome black model to take the long drive to his cabin again. Glancing helplessly at the clock, he said, "Maybe I should try calling Nancy again."
"Aaaah, what for?" Calvin said, waving off the suggestion with a disgusted wave of his hand. "You called her just a few minutes ago. She's out, all right. She just ain't here, that's all!"
"Ralph," Marilyn said, her voice soft and uncertain. "I have an idea. Do you think I could fill in for Nancy? I wouldn't mind." She let her eyes roam seductively over Calvin's muscular frame, licking her lips nervously. "I wouldn't mind at all."
Ralph smiled at her. "Thanks, baby," he said. "I appreciate the offer. But it wouldn't help. You're too sexy. Your tits are too big and your ass is too pretty. This layout calls for somebody that looks like a kid. Tiny tits. No ass. More like a boy than a girl. Nancy is perfect for it. But where the hell is she?"
When they heard a timid knock on the kitchen door, all three of them looked up laughing. "Speak of the devil," Calvin said. "She'd better have a real good story."
"I'll go let her in," Marilyn said, heading for the door. "You guys are liable to bite her head off before she even gets in here." But when she opened the door and saw Ellen, she stopped speaking abruptly. Then, composing her face into a smile, she said, "Ellen! Hi! I was expecting somebody else. Come on in."
"Thanks," Ellen said, stepping into the kitchen. "I've been so lonely. I thought I'd go out of my mind." The words tumbled from her mouth like marbles from a bag. "Randy left the other day And Teddy's in big trouble with the navy. I just thought if you weren't busy . . ." She stopped in mid-sentence, noticing, for the first time, the two men in the living room. .
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know you had company."
Calvin snickered.
"Don't be sorry," Marilyn said. "Come on in. I'd like you to meet someone."
Ellen followed her into the living room, smiling at Ralph and looking curiously at Calvin. She had never seen a more beautiful body on any man. He was built perfectly, his shoulders broad and his waist trim and narrow. The skin of his exposed chest was dark and luxurious, and she resisted a crazy urge to reach out and touch him. She never thought she could feel this way about a Black man, but just looking at him was making her tingle all over.
"Ellen," said Marilyn, "this is Calvin. Calvin, our neighbor Ellen."
"Hello, Ellen," Calvin said, bowing with a slight motion of his head. "Pleased to meet you." His voice was deep and resonant. When he smiled, his teeth flashed white and perfect. He extended his hand, reaching for hers.
"How do you do?" she answered politely, placing her hand in his and feeling him give it a gentle squeeze. He didn't let go, and they stood there for a long moment, their fingers touching.
Then Calvin smiled at Ralph and said, "What an odd coincidence. Your neighbor looks just like Nancy."
"I was just thinking the same thing myself," the photographer answered. "Do you see it, Marilyn?"
"Why not?" Marilyn answered with a shrug of her shoulders. Turning to Ellen, she said, "Calvin is one of our best models. Willing to please and hung like a horse. We were planning to shoot a session today."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Ellen said. "I guess I'd better be going. I didn't know you were working."
"Well, that's just the point," Ralph interrupted. "We're not working. We can't work because the girl who was supposed to pose with Calvin didn't show up. Marilyn offered to take her place, but she just isn't built right. The layout calls for someone built like a young girl. Someone with smaller proportions. Someone who looks like you, in fact."
"Really?" Ellen asked. It sounded almost as though he was getting ready to ask her to pose for him. But that couldn't be. Why would he ask her? She had never modeled before, and surely some experience was required. Besides, she wasn't pretty enough to be a model.
"The girl who didn't show up was going to get fifty bucks for just a couple of hours' work," Ralph continued. "Good money. And easy."
He is asking me, Ellen thought. He's offering me fifty dollars to pose for dirty pictures with this Black man. Why, I never even met him before. I don't know anything about him. But, then, what did I know about Randy? "Gee," she said aloud. "That sounds like a pretty good deal."
"Could you use the money?" Marilyn asked softly.
"I sure could," the blonde girl answered. "With Teddy gone, I really don't know how I'm going to make ends meet. I was going to go looking for a job later this week."
"You've got one here if you want it," Ralph said. He looked quickly away from her, afraid that she would be offended by his suggestion.
Ellen stood for a moment without speaking. She looked at Calvin, his biceps bulging as he took the cigarette from his mouth to blow a long ribbon of smoke into the air. Then, her voice weak and uncertain, she said, "All right. I'll do it."
"Great," Ralph said, walking toward the tripods which held his cameras. "Let's get to work."
Ellen stayed where she was, watching as he opened the back of one of the cameras to insert a roll of film. Calvin began to unbuckle his belt, kicking off his green alligator shoes at the same time.
"You'll have to get undressed," Marilyn said. She stood next to the younger girl, her hand on her arm and her voice gentle. "It won't be as difficult as you think, once you get started."
Nervously, Ellen reached for the front of her blouse, her fingers trembling as she worked at the buttons. When they were open, she pulled it from the waistband of her skirt, slipping it off over her arms. Her breasts were naked, and her nipples hardened to erection as soon as she uncovered them.
At that moment, Calvin, dressed only in his body shirt, looked at her and smiled. "I like that," he said. "We're going to have a real good session, Ellen, honey." As he spoke, he wriggled out of the sleeves of his shirt and stripped it down over his waist. Then, pulling it quickly from his legs, he tossed it on top of his pants where they lay folded on the table.
When the sexy garment's built-in cup-supporter pulled free of his loins, Calvin's cock sprang away from his body, instantly erect. It jumped, like an anxious sentry dog on the end of a chain, pointing I directly at Ellen. The sight of it made her pussy churn. She was glad that she had decided to accept Ralph's offer and pose with the man. His j cock, a long, rigid pole of pulsating black flesh, was even bigger than Randy's. And it was sure to be better than her own fingers.
Stepping quickly out of her skirt, she posed naked for Calvin's examination. He ran his eyes up and down her body, from her ankles to her shoulders, and back again. His gaze slid caressingly over the narrow swell of her boyish hips and the lean curve of her long, sinewy legs. "You've got an out-of-sight body," he said, giving his cock a little shake with a bucking roll of his hips.
Ellen remembered hearing the same words once before. Randy Siegel had said them, while they lay out under the stars the first time they made love. But when Calvin said it, he sounded more like he meant it. "Do you really think so?" she asked.
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't," he answered. Calvin had worked with girls of all different shapes and sizes. Sometimes with two or three of them at a time. And the truth was, he loved them all. That was what made him so successful in his chosen field of endeavor. A fat girl could turn him on just as much as a skinny one. He liked them with tits and he liked them without. As long as they had a cunt, he'd find something special about their bodies. Each was an individual. And each individual one of them was out-of-sight.
"All right," Ralph said. "Shall we get started? Ellen, would you mind getting up on the bed. Marilyn, the lights." He spoke quickly while he was working-businesslike and thoroughly professional.
Ellen, following his direction, went to the bed. She realized, for the first time, that everybody was looking at her. Calvin looked with lust, Marilyn with sympathetic understanding, and Ralph with the cold, calculating eye of a technician with a task to perform. But rather than embarrassing her, their attention aroused her. To be the naked center of attention in a group of professional photographers was a totally new experience for her. And she liked it.
"Let's start with a beaver," Ralph said. "Ellen, lie down on your back and spread your legs." She complied quickly, excited beyond belief by the lewdness of her situation. "No, not like that," he said. "Lift your knees but keep your feet on the mattress. Split that beaver and look at the birdie."
A light, which Marilyn held high in the air, flashed, neutralizing the shadows cast by the brightness of the stationary floodlights. "Good," Ralph said, winding the film. "Calvin. Now you stand over her. There. Like that. No, look down at her pussy. Good!" The light flashed again.
Ellen felt numb, as though she were moving through a dream. When she thought about what she was doing, the whole thing seemed incredible. Here she was, spreading her legs to show her pussy to the camera while the naked Black stranger stood just over her, his cock stiff and hard. Meanwhile, Ralph was recording the obscene tableaux on film for all time.
The young blonde's cunt felt like it was on fire, and she hoped that it wouldn't be much longer before she got to pose with Calvin's penis inside her. She was dying to see how it would feel. It was huge and massive, like the heavy end of a baseball bat. She found herself doubting that so gigantic an instrument could fit inside her without tearing her pussy apart. But she couldn't wait to try it.
"Reach up, Ellen," Ralph said. "Take hold of his cock with your hand."
Her heart pounding so hard that she was sure everyone could hear it, the young girl reached up tentatively to comply with the photographer's instruction. When her fingertips made grazing contact with the throbbing tool, she heard Calvin draw his breath in sharply. It was hard to believe that he could be as excited by the sight of her as she was by the sight of him. After all, he probably did this every day of the week. But when she wrapped her fingers around the pulsating length of his powerful black hard-on, she heard him moan softly.
"Mmmmmmmmnnnn," he keened. "I like that." His mellow baritone voice was soft and breathy. The sound of it made the fluids in Ellen's pussy flow forcefully, dribbling out between her cunt-lips to moisten the upturned crack of her ass.
"Good, Ellen," Ralph said. "Rub your pussy for me while you hold Calvin's cock." The light in Marilyn's hand was flashing every few seconds. And Ralph's cameras clicked busily. They were mounted on tripods and he hardly moved them, zooming in for close-ups with a long expensive lens.
Ellen rubbed her cunt while Ralph's camera clicked. It felt so good that the expression of passion which flitted across her face was completely genuine. "Open your eyes," Ralph directed. "Look at the camera so that the guy who buys the book thinks you're looking at him. You're playing with Calvin's cock, but you're looking at the reader. Got it?"
Ellen smiled, licking her lips with unfeigned delight as her hand moved sensuously over the hairy plane of her nakedly exposed genitals. Calvin's cock was thick and potent in her hand, its bulbous head so black that it appeared blue in the bright light of the photo floods.
"All right, now," Ralph said, winding his camera. "Let's try a different angle." He began readjusting his tripod, and Ellen wondered if that meant that the models could break the pose. But as long as Calvin was standing where he was, she continued holding his erection, longing to feel his hands on her body at the same time.
"Sit up, Ellen," Ralph directed, "and give the tip of Calvin's pecker a little kiss. Calvin, you reach down and hold her titties. And look straight at the camera."
Ellen crossed her legs and sat up on the mattress. The swollen purple head of Calvin's huge penis bobbed just in front of her nose. She inhaled deeply, savoring its clean, freshly washed aroma. Then, licking her lips to wet them, she craned her neck to place a long, lingering kiss on the head of the mammoth organ.
"Oooooooooohhhhh," Calvin moaned as her lips made moist electric contact with the sensitive membrane which covered his prick. His fingers moved lovingly across the gently rolling prairie of her chest, searching for the erect nubbins which capped her small but sensitive breasts. "When this session is over, baby," he said, "I'm going to fuck you good. With nobody looking."
His words made her pussy steam, its thick, super-heated juices filling the cavity of her vulva and overflowing it to coat the hair-fringed flanges which sealed the erogenous opening. Without waiting for directions from the photographer, she opened her mouth to swallow whole the knob of his pulsating cockhead.
"Good," Ralph said. "That's fine. You're on your own for a while. Do whatever you like. I'll tell you when I get an idea of my own."
His words relieved Ellen, making her feel less like a performer and more like a sexual being. The camera had been coming between her and Calvin, Ralph's muttered directions reminding her constantly of its presence. But now that he had given her free rein, she resolved to take whatever pleasure she could find, letting the experienced professionals worry about the photographs.
Reaching behind him, she moved her hands lightly across the hairless mounds of Calvin's muscular buttocks. The surface felt silky and smooth, as though he had just powdered .or oiled them, and she allowed her fingers to meander uninhibitedly over their wiry expanse. Then, cupping the firm knots of tendon and muscle in her palms, she pulled him forward, shoving his cock deep into her mouth.
She ran her tongue back and forth along the soft, satiny underside of the Black man's swollen cock, tasting the clean, manly flavor of his body. The hair which surrounded the base of his thick penis was curly and soft, like unprocessed wool. And as Ellen swallowed inch after inch of his throbbingly turgid penis, she rubbed her nose against his fur, delighting in its downy softness.
When the head of his weapon battered gently at the back of her throat, she reversed direction, letting the glistening shaft slip away a little at a time. She scraped gently at it with her teeth, as though the erect black cock was, instead, the delicate and savory leaf of a California artichoke. Then, sliding one of her hands over his hip, she reached between his thighs to cup the massive sac which housed his balls.
The twin globes bobbed and rolled inside his scrotum, sliding from one finger to another as she juggled them lovingly. Her sucking mouth was filling the air with obscene slurping sounds, and little rivers of saliva were trickling from the corners of her lips to wet her chin. "Nnnnnnggg," she groaned, the passionate sound muffled by his mouth-stuffing cudgel.
Letting his cockhead slip from her mouth, she began to lick at its shank like a tasty brown fudgecicle. Her lips were parted, revealing the whiteness of her teeth against his dark skin, and her tongue protruded obscenely between them. She licked up and down the length of his tool, fluttering her tongue rapidly to cover the cylindrical weapon with a glistening sheen of bubbly saliva.
His cock rose like a redwood from the dense and tangled underbrush at its base, posing proudly while the small-breasted, pale-skinned Navy wife licked and lapped at it. Calvin would certainly be interested in seeing this series of pictures. Nothing ever photographed better than an amateur. And in spite of Ellen's enthusiastic improvisation, it was obvious that she had never posed before. In fact, sometimes it even seemed that she hadn't even been fucking for long. She was as hotly aroused as a virgin with her first lover.
Ralph was very pleased with the way things were going. He hadn't even hoped that Ellen would turn out to be this good. She loved what she was doing, and that would show up on the film, making these pictures extremely salable. As a professional titillater, Ralph had long ago come to the conclusion that facial expressions were a much more important part of porn photography than most people realized. Even an ugly couple looked beautiful and erotic if they were really enjoying each other's bodies.
And there was nothing ugly about Calvin and Ellen. Both of them were extremely attractive in an erotically contrasting way. If Ellen was willing, maybe he would use her as a regular. The shots of her and Marilyn in bed together had been terrific, even though snapped at random by an automatic camera. He could think of half a dozen other girls he'd like to match her up with. And twice as many guys. His own cock was hard as a rock, just watching them. He wondered how Marilyn was reacting. Maybe when the session was finished, the four of them could get it on together. Just for fun.
When he had shot about half a roll of Ellen's excellent blowjob, he said, "How about some fancy fuckin' now? Ellen, stand up and climb onto Calvin's legs. This is one of Calvin's best poses. Calvin, help her out. Show her what to do."
Ellen stood up quickly, pulling her lips reluctantly from the black colossus's cock. She stood facing him, his stiff-shanked erection bridging the space between them. Calvin placed his hands under her arms and lifted her off the mattress, carrying her to him and holding her aloft while she wrapped her legs around the mighty columns of his thighs.
His cock stood up and away from his body at a forty-five-degree angle, pointing straight at the gaping slit of Ellen's moist and anxious vagina. He lowered her gently onto its rigid hardness, feeling the gracefully curving tip penetrate the softness of her vulva as her lips rolled back to clear a path.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh," she sighed as the long pole of rigidly throbbing cockflesh worked its way slowly up into the tightly contracting depths of her tender young vaginal canal. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, thrilling to the touch of the masculine contours of his bulging muscles.
Then, just as she was settling comfortably into position, the door burst open with a shattering of glass. And Teddy stormed into the room, a mindless expression of insane and violent fury distorting his clean-cut features. In his hand was an ugly black metal object, the size and shape of a small pineapple. She knew immediately what it was, although she had never seen a hand grenade before.
"No, Teddy," she blurted. "Don't do it!" But it was too late. His hands moved so quickly that the motion was nothing more than a blur. And the horrible device fell to the floor in their midst, ticking lethally.
Oh, God, she thought. I wish I had stayed in Davis, where I belonged. It was the last thing that crossed her mind before she heard the explosion. And the last thought of her life.
The silence of the country afternoon was shattered suddenly by a shocking blast which shook the earth and sent splintered fragments of roof and wall hurtling through the air along with the broken and lifeless bodies of five human beings. Then all was silent again, except for the cheerful twittering of the birds.
Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled. Another rabbit had died, after falling hopelessly under the spell of his hypnotic stare. Life went on.
