In still another analysis of modern American life, author Van Marcus depicts in a graphic and telling manner the pitfalls and pleasures to be had in an affluent and technological society such as we are faced with today.
In this searing novel of a young married couple's adjustment from what many a social critic calls "outmoded marital ways" to that of the modern "swinger," we see the agony and the bliss of wife swapping.
To the publishers, the author seems to be trying to alert the public to a trend. People seem to be redefining what they really are and what they really want. The trauma of adjusting to a new and hedonistic way of life is clearly and graphically depicted with nothing, no vice or shame or desire withheld.
The author has deliberately left the name and location of the city vague, for many of the facts and the people depicted in this novel are drawn from life, taken from case histories. The character of Carol Murcer, in particular, is a young, attractive, swinging wife, living under seemingly "normal" circumstances. Author Van Marcus was able to gain her confidence and garnered much of the material for this novel from her confessions.
Although it not need be said, we the publishers feel it our duty to protect Carol Murcer and state that this is not her real name. Nor does her husband work as a draftsman. He works in a similar but unallied profession.
In telling her story, Carol had to be granted the protection of a nom de plume and the author's promise that certain facts of her life would be fictionalized.
"I want my story known because of the way my life is now," Carol stated to the novelist. "I don't think I could ever again be satisfied with one man," she went on, "or my husband ever be satisfied with one woman. That old, normal, married way of life is behind us. We can't go back. It's too late. People should know this, people should know what they are getting into; all the kicks and all the traps."
With that in mind, the publishers are proud to present this story; the story of Carol and Bill and the desires they gave in to.
-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER 1
"Okay, I think we're about ready," Chuck Spanner said as he checked the projector once more, tracing the looping coils of film with his finger before snapping out the work light and plunging his basement into total darkness save for the glow that came from the projector itself and the firefly light of several cigarettes scattered around the room as men sat with their drinks, all of them facing one wall where they knew a screen was erected.
Bill Murcer tried to act nonchalant even though no one could see him in the dark. He was the youngest of all the men present and was, as far as he could tell, the only one who had never seen a stag film. So much was new to him. He had just turned twenty-one, had just been married two months ago, had just gotten a job drafting blueprints, had just met Chuck and Anne Spanner, his boss and the bosses wife. Now, he was at their house, at a party, sitting in a darkened basement "romper room," about to see a stag movie while the women stayed upstairs and did God knows what.
Bill was glad for the darkness and the anonymity it gave him. It gave him a chance to calm down and think. He had walked around the house talking, making jokes and small talk, putting his arm around his wife's waist and nuzzling her and trying to act like he was at ease when all the time his heart was pounding like a sledgehammer and his mind was dizzy with the thought of the voluptuous Anne Spanner. Chuck Spanner, his boss, a great guy, a successful, handsome, charming guy, had a wife who had just made an overt and unmistakable pass at Bill.
Bill gulped at his drink and hoped for a little drunkenness, a little numbness, so that he could calm down and think. Anne Spanner was one woman no man could take lightly. She possessed those clear blue eyes that are seldom seen with natural red hair and the combination was enough to make even old men turn their heads in a double take. If that odd and appealing color combination were all that Anne had, it would be enough, However, Anne, two years over thirty, had a figure of a twenty-year-old. Tall, willowy, graceful, she was a menace to traffic whenever she walked down the street with her buttocks swaying from side to side in a way that was somehow seductive and suggestive of smut and sex. Women generally didn't like her, feeling insecure when she was around. They invariably turned catty and speculated that her hair was dyed. It wasn't. And it was only too apparent that her figure was totally hers. She tended to wear low-cut dresses which revealed the deep cleavage of her breasts and the way her hips moved told every woman and man that she did not wear a girdle.
If women had any weapon at all with which they could combat their jealousy, it was the matter of age. Anne was over thirty and showed it. There was a puffiness under the eyes and her cool good looks turned toward a hardness. She wore an orange-tinted lipstick that accentuated her hair and blue eyes and, occasionally, her mouth would widen in a cynical grin that could, and did, become a wanton smile, an invitation to lewdness.
Few women realized or guessed at her weak spot and those that knew understood and didn't talk about it. Anne was completely dominated by her husband, Chuck, who had spent years teaching her the delights of humiliation and debasement. It was on his specific orders that she had made a pass at Bill Murcer. Following her husband's instructions, she had removed her panties and had felt excited and aroused when she first saw the younger man. Chuck had introduced them and she had taken his hand and given it a little squeeze, her hips thrust ever so slightly forward as she said, "It is a pleasure to meet you. Chuck has told me so much about you."
It had all been ridiculously easy to do. Taking Bill by the arm and winking at his pretty wife, she had said, "Chuck says that Bill is too shy and lacks that aggressive quality so I'm to take him away from you and show him around the house. Pardon me, what was your name again?"
"Carol," ' Carol Murcer said. Carol looked up at her husband. Already she didn't like Anne and Chuck Spanner. She thought Bill was fine, just as he was, and she felt he was aggressive enough and resented anyone talking about Bill in such a derogatory way in public. Chuck Spanner was the kind of person she instinctively disliked. A big man, he was too rough, too pushy, and much too suggestive. Carol felt like he was undressing her with his eyes.
While "showing" Bill around the house, while in their master bedroom, standing close next to him, her soft hip rubbing provocatively against Bill's muscular thigh, Anne simply swung around in front of him, stood close, her eyes half closed and reached for his hands and cupped them on her breasts and put her arms around his neck and kissed him, her tongue fighting to wedge its way into his mouth while she thrust her hips against his groin and ground as hard as she could. Bill fought to push her away, pulling his hands away from the soft warmth of her breasts under her dress as if he had received an electric shock. Anne held on, grinding her hips harder and his hands slipped down to her hips and he gradually, because of his superior strength, forced her away.
Then it happened.
Now, later, sitting in the dark of Chuck's basement romper room, Bill thought back about it and it all seemed like it happened in slow motion, like in a dream. He had forced her away from him so that a foot of space separated them and Anne, Mrs. Spanner, the wife of his boss, was smiling at him in the most inviting and suggestive way and her hands came down to his and she put them very gently over his and they stood like that for what seemed an eternity before she slowly began to gyrate her hips. Bill couldn't take his eyes from her hips as he watched her hands leave his and slowly, tantalizingly, enticingly, with a lewdness and wantonness that made his groin swell, Anne Spanner, a woman he had just met, was slowly raising her dress, pulling it up higher and higher until he was sure he would see her underwear. She slowly, her hips undulating all the time, raised the dress as far as his restraining hands would allow.
With a gasp, Bill looked and realized that Mrs. Chuck Spanner wasn't wearing any underwear! The two of them moved as if they were immersed in some warm thick oil. His eyes turned down and he saw her long lovely legs covered with sheer stockings and her full swooping thighs and, as he watched, his lips parted, those thighs swung apart and she was standing in high heels with her feet far apart and still her hips were moving and rotating.
Although everything seemed to be happening so slowly and he felt his whole body atingle, his mind was racing with the speed of light: What kind of woman is this and this is wrong and this is dangerous. Suppose his wife were to walk in?
Yet, he couldn't move or speak as he watched the dress, now pulled tight by her straddling stance, slowly inch up her thighs until he could see the beginning clasps of her black garter belt biting into the tops of the stockings and then, with a gasp, then he knew for sure Anne Spanner wasn't wearing any panties and his greedy eye took in her prominent mound of Venus covered with soft red pubic hair and the nice way it nestled between her flamboyant thighs.
Only a quick glance at her face so near and her eyes were half shut and she was slowly licking her lips with the tip of her tongue. Glancing behind her, involuntarily checking the door, he almost jumped. There, mirror-reversed, stood Anne Spanner, and beyond, he could see the reflection of his own startled, sweating face. And her lovely, full rounded buttocks, twin cheeks, were there in the mirror, her legs wide apart, her dress now up around her waist and those lovely full bare buttocks were slowly pumping and swinging in a lazy tantalizing way.
Bill closed his eyes and shook his head. This couldn't be happening to him and if it was, he knew, dimly, that he had better get the hell out of there. But he stood, frozen, his body electric and his groin pounding and felt Anne Spanner take his hand in hers and move it slowly, trailing across her silky stomach and down, down, curving in until the tips of his fingers brushed into her soft downy pubic hair and, with his hand beginning to tremble, he felt his fingers guided to the soft fleshy lips of her vagina and felt them swell and part.
With a low moan that was near a growl and a sound he couldn't hold back, he felt one finger slip into the smooth wet mouth of her cunt and slide back and forth. A shudder went through her body and she whispered, hoarsely, "Oh, baby...." and leaned toward him, one hand fumbling for the zipper on his pants.
"Anybody here?" a female voice asked, rapping on the door at the same time.
It was as if a mirror shattered in the room and they both seemed to be going in a thousand different directions at once. They jumped apart and then collided as they both ran for the bathroom then jumped apart again, Anne standing in the middle of the room and pulling her dress down and, brazenly, incongruously, sticking her tongue out at Bill and laughing.
Bill had such an erection bulging uncomfortably in his pants, he could think of nothing to do but sit down in a convenient chair and cross his legs and fumble and tear at a pack of cigarettes and brush his hair back at the same time as the door was swinging open and a woman, hard, still attractive, sauntered into the room with a smirk. She smiled first at Anne then at Bill. "Hell, thought I'd see something. You seen Harvey?" she asked Anne.
"No," Anne said, astounding Bill with her coolness and composure. "Harvey must be hard to keep track of."
The woman nodded. "Better believe it." She stood with one hand on her hip and nodded at Bill. "Who's this?"
"Bill Murcer, meet Muriel Abrams. You will anyway. Muriel, Bill."
Bill couldn't say anything as he tried to light a cigarette with a trembling hand.
Muriel walked to him. "My pleasure, Bill. How old are you?" she asked with a smile.
"Twenty-one," Bill said, astounded by the high hoarse pitch of his own voice.
Both the women laughed and Muriel said, "Well, I hope we'll be seeing a lot of each other." She smiled back at Anne and said, "Well, I've got to be going. Nice party, Anne, with some new faces for a change." Again she turned to Bill. "Don't bother getting up," she said and both women laughed.
Muriel left the room, smiling back at Bill once more and Anne straightened her hair and then stood looking at Bill with a sidelong smile. "I'd like to get together with you."
"Oh." It was all he could say.
Anne came and stood in front of the chair and put her hands on her hips. For an instant, Bill thought she was going to start again. "Give me a call."
"When?" The question shot out before he could think and he hated himself for it.
"Tomorrow. During the day. Here." She bent over him. "Promise?"
He nodded and they both smiled at one another.
Anne clapped her hands and said, "Come on, we'll be missed."
Bill found his erection had gone down enough for him to be able to stand and walk. At the door, Anne Spanner gave him a wicked smile and said, "Call, and we'll take up that tour where we left off and I'll take you on a real trip."
Before he could answer, they were out in the hall and heading for the growing chatter of the party. Bill found Carol seated demurely on a couch, talking to another couple and Chuck Spanner.
Anne went off to greet some late-comers and Bill walked toward the couch, his mind aflame, sure that everyone would know what he had been up to by the expression on his face. Chuck Spanner looked up and smiled. "Hi. We were just talking about you. Here he is, the new man in our little circle."
Carol smiled up at him, her face full of pride.
"Mr. Spanner was just saying ... "
"Chuck, call me Chuck. Everybody does, Baby!" Chuck called out in his loud impulsive style. "Name is Chuck. None of that Spanner and Mister crap!" Everyone laughed. Chuck was an extrovert and a loud one. Despite his sometimes coarse and direct ways, he was immensely likeable.
Carol smiled politely and said, "Chuck. Chuck was saying how he thought you could work into a management position in no time at all." Carol beamed up at her husband again and Bill basked in a guilty warmth.
"Well, I sure like working for you," he said.
Chuck was up on his feet and slapping Bill on the back, whip-lashing his head. "You don't work for me, we all work together!" he roared. Then, "Hey, there's Ed Hindman. Ed, Baby!" and he was off across the room.
Bill sat down next to his wife and gave her a weak smile. "How's it been going?"
"Fine. He's funny, Mr. Spanner." Carol made a cute face and said, "Chuck. And he thinks highly of you. Isn't this some house?" she asked, looking around.
"Yeah." It was a fine rambling house, tastefully if somewhat modernly decorated. It was too far out for Carol's taste, yet she recognized the expense of the furnishings. In Bill's present state, he couldn't really take it in, just the red-haired figure of Anne Spanner across the room.
"How was the rest of the house?" Carol asked. She was always interested in clothes and interior decorating.
"Oh," he waved a hand, "You know me. It's nice. Real nice, I'll tell you that."
"What are you going to do?"
Bill leaned back and tried not to show his apprehension. What did she mean? "What do you mean?" he asked stupidly.
"What are you and the rest of the men going to do?"
Bill looked at her face carefully, seeing nothing but curiosity there. "What are you talking about? Me and the rest of the men?"
Carol took a breath and said, "Chuck was saying that Anne, his wife, was going to take all the women on a tour of the house in a group while you men did something else and I wondered what it was."
Bill shrugged. "News to me."
"What's she like?"
"Who?"
"Mrs. Spanner. What's she like?"
"Her? Oh, she's all right."
"Is something wrong?" Carol leaned toward him.
"Wrong? No, why should something be wrong? It's just that ... I want a drink. Can I get you one?"
"No, thank you, I've still got one," Carol said, swivelling around to locate her drink.
"Well, I'm going to get one," he said as he got up.
"Okay. I wish I knew what it was you men were going to do together." Carol gave him a coquettish smile. "Something naughty?"
"Dunno. I'll find out."
At the small bar, Bill got another drink and had Chuck come up and drape his arm around his shoulder. "Way to go." Chuck was always saying that and most of the time, it sounded like one word: "Waytogo."
"Just fine," Bill said with a smile. "Some place you got here."
"It'll do. You gotta see our place up in the mountains. Real hideaway place where a screaming rape would go unnoticed. We'll have you up there soon."
Bill laughed. Chuck was a colorful and salty talker, a thing about, him you grew used to. Besides, there wasn't much sense in opposing him. At thirty-five, he was a large man with an immense physical presence. At six-feet-three, he was a trim and muscular two hundred pounds. It was evident, from his stance and movement, that he was in good shape and regularly worked out. More, it was his rugged good looks and the thrust of his jaw that told you that he was amiable, but not a man to cross.
"Say, what's this I hear that the men are going to do something while the girls go off with Mrs. Spanner?"
"Anne!" Chuck roared. "They're going to do female things while we retire to the romper room and," with a nudge and wink, "do man things."
"Oh." Bill nodded but didn't understand and was too self-conscious to ask just what "Man things," meant and he walked back to Carol and gave a shrug when she asked him and took a long drink from his glass and tried to steer the conversation toward small talk.
Two drinks and several people later, Bill noticed that men were filing from the room and heading toward what must be the romper room, smiling and laughing while Anne Spanner was gathering the women together.
"Come on, you two love birds, break it up.
Bill, come on with me!" Chuck called.
Bill looked around and saw that they were the only couple still seated and that they were alone on the couch. He got up, his head full of smoky thoughts as the alcohol weaved in his brain and he smiled across the room at Anne Spanner who smiled back and then down at his wife. "I guess we'd better go along."
"Yes, I guess so." Carol got up, smoothing out her skirt. She looked into her husband's eyes and he could tell she wasn't too happy and wondering why they were being separated. So was he.
He squeezed her hand. "I'll see you later." She tried to smile. "Have a good time."
CHAPTER 2
And he was safely in the dark of Chuck Spanner's romper room, fortified with another drink and trying to figure things out and what he should do if he should do anything at all. Mrs. Spanner, Anne, must be a nymphomaniac and Chuck had to live with it. It didn't seem right, fooling around with the boss's wife, especially when she was the wife of a guy like Chuck Spanner.
"Here we go!" Chuck said and flipped a switch and a cone of light stabbed through the smoky dark and illuminated a screen at the far end of the romper room and the words: NITTY GRITTY LOLLIPOP came on the screen as the men clapped and hooted and Chuck called out, "Waytogo!"
Any thoughts Bill might have had of sitting in the dark and collecting his thoughts vanished as a figure came on the screen. A young girl, in her teens, blonde and voluptuous, walked into camera view and stood next to a bed. The film was being shot in an apartment somewhere. The lighting was bad and the camera was hand-held and jiggled as it moved closer. The bed was rumpled and unmade and the girl appeared self-conscious and squinting against the harsh camera light.
And she was also stark naked! Worse than naked, she wore black silk stockings held in place by a black garter belt and above, some flimsy, Arabian-looking vest that only brazenly called attention to her breasts and nipples rather than concealing them.
An appreciative murmur ran through the room as the men commented on the girl's figure. And it was something to see; thick, large, full-blown breasts and body. She couldn't have been any more than eighteen and she had the kind of figure that would, in a few years, droop and thicken. But now, right now, she was full of firm baby fat and at the physical peak of her being. She was syrupy and voluptuous and men could look at her with only one thought in mind: hot, liquid sex.
At a signal from the cameraman or someone out of camera range, the girl crawled on the bed and lay down on her back, her head on a pillow, her knees lifting further apart and her nipples tensing and standing out. A sly lewd smile played on her lips as she stared at the camera that came close and bent over the bed, taking in her face in a close-up, then her neck, then her snowy mounds, her breasts. Slowly, it inched over them, watching her fingers tweak and pinch and fondle her nipples and nurse them even more erect.
The only sound in the room was the film clicking through the sprockets as each man leaned forward, licking their lips, taking hasty drinks, and watching.
The camera swooped up for one more teasing look at her smirking face and she slowly, lasciviously, stuck her tongue out and the camera started down, down again over her firm young breasts that the girl was now massaging and bunching in her hands, down over her snowy and contoured stomach, on down past her belly button and the men watched as it heaved and tossed around on the screen as the camera continued on down to her crotch, her softly curled pubic triangle and saw her mound of Venus heave and thrust in the air as her long, well-tapered thighs came into view and, as the camera pulled back, they could see that her knees were slightly bent.
Bill felt his breath coming faster and he thought, Jesus, I can't stand much more of this! Yet, he gaped, watching as the camera was down low, almost level with the bed now and pulling back so that the girl could bend her leg and, giggling, her hands still on her breasts, swing the leg to one side of the camera.
The cameraman swung unerringly into position, right up between her open legs and Bill and all the other viewers were down with their heads between the girl's legs, looking up, gazing at the tiny hidden clit of her young pussy.
First, all they could look at was her cunt. It dominated the screen. There it was with its swollen lips -lined teasingly by pubic hair. And parting the pubic hair, the glistening slit of her cunt with all its sweet hot exciting mysteries. On up was her heaving, rounded little belly with her stockinged thighs acting as pillars on either side of the screen. Far back on the bed, like foothills, were her soft, snowy breasts billowing and bunching in her hands as she mas saged them and smiled down at the camera through the cleavage of her breasts.
They were large, heavy and ponderous breasts and, as the men watched, she took one in both her hands and pulled it toward her mouth, her head bending forward and her mouth opening as she did so. A groan came out in the room as they watched her tongue lick the nipples of her breasts and then her mouth close over one nipple and her lips grow small and tight as she sucked on the nipple. Bill felt himself sweating and his cock growing iron-hard in his pants and he shifted position in order to be more comfortable and forced his cock up flat against his stomach where it grew as he watched the girl sucking fervently, her head bobbing until she fell back in a restless exhaustion and her breasts jellied out and she began moving her bare buttocks and he could see the deep inviting crevice where they joined and rubbed against each other. The girl heaved wildly, and her head rolled about and Bill could just catch a glimpse of her hazily glazed eyes and knew she was hot, passionate.
A voice cut the silence. "Hey, Chuck, wouldn't you like to do her?"
"Hell," Chuck said, "You ain't seen nothing yet. Why, she's just getting warmed up. Waytogo!"
Everyone laughed and then they all fell silent again as the girl, her legs bent still more and separated, raised her buttocks clear of the bed and gyrated them around with a kind of twisting abandon. "Look!" someone said and Bill looked to see her hands trailing down over her stomach, and her fingertips dancing in her pubic hair. Then, as a collective groan came from the men, they watched as one finger probed lower and began sliding up and down the tight, pink slit very slowly and tantalizingly.
Her tempo slowed down appreciably and her buttocks gave out a slow lewd grind as the one finger slowly slid up and down the length of her cunt. Her breasts were bunched and jutting up between her arms as her fingers slipped lower, her head was thrown back and only her throat and jaw were visible as her fingers delicately and slowly spread the swollen lips of her cunt and the men gaped as an index finger slowly probed into the wet walls of her cunt.
Slowly, with an aching lewdness, the finger slid in. Then out. Then in again. Then out, then in and out, going deeper each time.
The girl's actions became more frenzied and her legs were split as wide as they would go as her teasing finger, in as deep as it could go, twisted and probed around as her buttocks heaved on up off the bed and gyrated, thrusting up, eager to take more of the finger and, as Bill gasped, he caught glimpses of her tight puckered little anus as her buttocks widened then contracted with a well-oiled movement as her fingers spread the lips of her cunt wider now and another finger slipped into the inflamed and wet cunt and her actions became faster, quicker, more desperate and Bill could hear the sounds of men breathing harder as he was.
He was sitting forward in his chair now, his drink forgotten as he watched the girl with two fingers sawing in and out of her cunt now with her head thrashing about and her body heaving and writhing like a liquid balloon. The girl was desperate now and trying to jam still another finger in her cunt as she thrashed and fell around the bed, her eyes closed and her mouth open. Her passion and frustration was mounting with every stroke of her hand and, maddened, she rolled over on her stomach and lay with her legs spread wide apart, the camera right on her lovely wide buttocks and her cunt. Bill could clearly see her hand sawing in and out as her buttocks rose and fell and her anus was naked and exposed to his sight.
"I'd love to fuck that little pussy!" someone called out and all the men laughed and excitedly agreed and Bill licked his lips as the girl was tearing, clawing at her cunt now and writhing and pounding as fast as she could until she collapsed and clutched the sheets in her hands and ground her teeth together while she ground her buttocks down into the covers as hard as she could.
She rolled over and sat up, her face twisted with passion, her eyes glazed and unfocussing. She was hot and frustrated and wanted something else. Bill could see her lips moving as she said something to the cameraman and Chuck, his voice low, excited, said, "Now watch this!"
They all strained forward in their seats and the room was hot and smoky and sticky with sweat and sexual excitement as they all watched.
The camera was swinging around, toward the head of the bed while the girl was on her knees and crawling down to the foot of the bed, her breasts pendulous, a hungry little half-smile playing on her lips. The camera tilted and almost lost her in the picture and all the men save Chuck were confused for a minute until they saw that the cameraman was lying down on the bed and his trousered legs were coming into view with his shoes on either side of the girl. Bill suddenly realized that the cameraman was lying on the bed with the camera on his chest, shooting down at the girl who crawled up between his thighs and unzipped his fly and her hand disappeared as she groped for, seized, and pulled out his erect cock. It was a big cock, at least eight inches long and a good inch-and-a-half thick. The girl bent over it, her face ecstatic as she held it lovingly in her hands and slowly pulled the foreskin back so that the head mushroomed out and she shifted, holding it with one hand and moving sinuously, she stroked it with her breasts, her hard erect nipples sliding over the cock.
Then, stooping, holding it in both hands, her buttocks fanning out, she rubbed the cock all over her face and stopped with her lips touching the very end of it. She didn't move for a split second then her lips just sucked, gently, on the very tip of his cock and then pulled away and all the men could see the glint of cum forming on the head of the cock. The girl smiled down and slowly, her thick wet tongue came down to lick the cum off and the girl looked up at the camera and grinned, then lewdly smacked her lips to show that it tasted good.
Shifting her voluptuous body, she leaned her weight on her elbows and flicked the tip of her tongue over the head of the cock that seemed to swell larger, threatening to fill up the screen. Then, with a lewd deliberateness, the girl began licking all around the head of the cock with the flat of her tongue, wetting it while her hand slowly stroked the thick shaft.
Then, opening her mouth, her lips poised, she put the head of the cock in her mouth and her head slowly sunk down on the shaft. So slowly, her lips tight, her mouth sucking, she drove each and every man present mad as she sucked slowly, achingly, down over the shaft until her mouth was full of cock and there she stayed with her lips wiggling and her cheeks bulging as her tongue rolled around the cock in her mouth and her hand played with the rest of the shaft. She stayed there a long time and the cock seemed to grow to the point where it would explode and still the film ground on.
"Some cameraman!" someone called and the men hooted.
"Hey, Chuck, boy, that you?" a raucous voice asked and all the men laughed.
"Waytogo!" Chuck called.
Bill said nothing, only sat watching the screen, breathing hard, his own cock rigid and feeling wet on the end as the girl's lips slowly wiggled back on up the long cock, revealing it thick and wet, a little at a time. Finally, her lips were just touching the thick head and her tongue was wiggling furiously and then she suddenly swooped, taking the cock in her mouth and the men in the romper room let out a groan and moan and she was sucking madly, her head bobbing up and down furiously to suddenly stop again, her lips just touching the head. "You fucking bitch!" somebody called out and the men laughed.
"A real cock-teaser!" someone else said and there was general agreement as the girl started slowly wiggling her lips down over the shaft again and the men groaned, "Come on, you bitch!"
"Fuck him!"
"Suck him!"
"Yeah, suck him off!"
"Yeah," Bill heard himself say in a low voice, "Suck it!"
His lust seemed unendurable and he wanted to see the girl suck the cameraman's prick. The way it was being filmed, it was almost as if it was his prick up on the screen. It was almost as if it was the prick of every guy there that was being sucked and teased.
The girl continued her slow and maddening action, almost as if she were paying the cameraman back for her own lustful frustration. Now, as they watched, they could see her hand slipping down between her thighs again, massaging her cunt as she sucked so slowly, so lewdly, so insinuatingly on the rampant cock in her hand. Then, with a greedy devouring motion, she was swooping again, taking all the thick prick in her mouth that she could and her head was bobbing up and down furiously while her body writhed in a frenzy as she ground her own hand voraciously in and out of her cunt.
"Here we go!" Chuck called out. "Waytogo!"
And they all watched, they saw her mounting in intensity and tempo, sucking hard and furiously, taking all of the big prick in her mouth until she seemed to gag. And then going all out, demonic now, her face twisted by passion as she sucked and the cameraman's hips began to pump, fucking hotly up into her widely ovaled mouth, and the camera began to move around and the girl was up on her knees now, her legs spread, her hand sawing in and out like a blur while her head, over the cock, bobbed up and down in a deep, fucking rhythm designed to bring an orgasm on and ... it came, the cameraman's hips stiffening and then twitching, the camera lurching to one side as he exploded into the girl's mouth and her cheeks bulged with white-hot cum and the cords stood out in her neck and she swallowed the cum and fought for breath through her nostrils which flared with passion as she greedily sucked, increasing her tempo while her buttocks bumped and ground desperately down on her finger-fucking fingers.
The cameraman was limp and the girl barely in the frame as she continued sucking, the great cock in her mouth growing flaccid and limp as she sucked furiously and fell on her side and her body stiffened and straightened and her mouth fell open as she abruptly came and the spent cock slid from her mouth as she lay, twitching, moaning, relishing her own orgasm, her eyes closed, rubbery strands of cum on her lips still connecting her to the cameraman's cock.
Then the screen went white and film slapped around the reel and a moan went up from the men and Chuck turned the projector off and snapped on the lights. "Refreshment time," he called out.
Bill got up, embarrassed by his erection in front of so many men. No one seemed to pay attention to him as they all crowded around the bar. He joined them, feeling safety in numbers. "Damn good show," a stranger said to him.
Bill's face was flushed and all he could do was nod.
"First time here?" the stranger asked. "Chuck always gets something like this."
Bill nodded and said, "I need a drink."
"Don't blame you," the stranger laughed. "We all need a drink after that." He bent close, winking, "A little drink, then later, a little nookie! Huh!"
Bill nodded and poured himself a drink. He didn't want to admit that he had just seen his first stag film. A phone was ringing behind the bar and Chuck was answering it, one finger in his other ear to drown out the conversation that was going on. Bill was surprised when Chuck turned, searched the faces crowded around, saw Bill and indicated the call was for him.
He took the phone from Chuck with a quizzical frown. "Hello?"
"Bill?"
"Yes." He recognized the voice immediately. It was Carol. "Where are you?"
"I'm upstairs and I want you to come up and get me."
"Get you? Why?"
"I want to go home."
"Home?" Bill asked, beginning practically every sentence with a question. "Anything wrong?"
"I just want to go home."
"Why? I mean, what's the matter?"
"Oh, very well," Carol said in a testy voice, "I'm not feeling well. Now, please come up here and take me home."
"What? Well, okay." He hung the phone up and stood looking at it for a minute. What could have happened? He had been married to Carol long enough to recognize that testy quality in her voice. With a shrug, he turned to Chuck and said, "I got to go upstairs and see what's wrong with my wife."
Chuck raised his eyebrows. "Home? This party is just getting off the ground. We got some more movies to see and then the fun will really get going. Waytogo."
"I know and I'd like to stay, but I got to go up and see what's wrong with her."
Chuck squinted at him. "You know, there's that old question of who wears the pants, boy."
Bill was stung by the statement but only nodded. "Well, I can at least go up."
Upstairs, Bill found Carol sitting by herself in the living room, her hands in her lap. "Where is everybody?"
Carol got up, her purse in her hand. "Still on that house tour. Bill," Carol looked at him with a level gaze, "I never want to come here again!"
CHAPTER 3
Bill knew certain things about Carol before he married her. For one he knew that she was capable of being a bitch whenever anything displeased her. For another, he knew that she was quite a prude and reproached him whenever he got sexy or, as she put it, "fresh" around her.
Their wedding night was only a grim confirmation of his worst fears and suspicions. Carol was frigid. It was a terrible truth that Bill accepted reluctantly and only after exhausting every possibility he could think of. Not only was she frigid, she was a prude and refused to go see films like I Am Curious, Yellow, or to read books that Bill would recommend.
Once, on his way home, Bill had stopped in a liquor store for cigarettes and was attracted to the magazine rack where he saw rows of girlie magazines. One magazine contained lurid articles about nudist camps and accompanying pictures of nude men and women. On an impulse, he had bought the magazine and taken it home and shown it to Carol. She didn't speak to him for three days.
And, she wasn't speaking to him as he drove her home from the Spanner party. "Honey," Bill pleaded, "Will you please tell me what's wrong?"
"You know."
"I don't know. When I left you, you seemed perfectly all right."
"When you left me," she said, her lips twisting.
"Yes, I went with the other men."
"Yes." She turned a withering look on him. "And what were you doing?"
"Watching movies."
"What kind?"
Bill exploded. "Damn it, it wasn't my house, my party, or my film! What did you expect me to do?"
Carol didn't answer the question, she simply stared straight ahead. At home, she went directly to their bedroom and locked herself in the bathroom; a trick of hers that drove Bill insane. It seemed to him that whenever she was mad at him, she would stick a few barbs into his ego and then retreat. Disgusted, he headed for the kitchen where they kept a bottle of scotch. He poured himself a generous slug and downed it in one swift gulp and stood gagging.
Damn it, God damn it, he thought, why am I always at fault? It's almost as if she looks for things to fight about.
He poured himself yet another drink, this one more generous than the first. In truth, it was more than just Carol. The whole evening had been unbelieveable to him and he was aroused. What kind of couple were the Spanner's? And what of Anne Spanner? God, he thought, the bosses wife!
He sat down at the kitchen table and finished his drink, his hand trembling as he thought of Anne Spanner and her lewd behavior and of the girl in the stag movie. Jesus, he thought, pouring himself still another drink, what must it be like to be with a woman like Anne? Licking his lips, he thought: I bet you could do anything to her. Anything!
If Bill had even an inkling of how right he was about Anne, he would have had an orgasm right then and there. At that moment, back at the Spanner's, lovely Anne was naked. Her rich willowy body glistened, for it had been covered with oil and she stood in the middle of her bedroom slowly turning around.
Chuck Spanner was sprawled on the bed, naked, his huge cock rigidly erect. Next to him lay Muriel Abrams, clad only in a bikini panties, her breasts free and full. Chuck was fondling her stomach, his hand running lower and idly tugging at her panties. Muriel spread her legs and thrust her pelvis upward as her hand slid across Chuck's hairy body and gently touched his penis. Chuck gave her a quick look and laughed. "Horny, huh?"
"Always."
Rolling on his side, he roughly pulled her panties down around her knees and his fingers spread the lips of her cunt wide, revealing the wet pinkness of the walls of her vagina. "Hey, honey, look at Muriel."
Anne turned with a dreamy stare and murmured. Her eyes were glazed. In fact, all of them had a dreamy, absent, dazed look to their faces. The reason could be found with Harvey, Muriel's husband. He was seated in the corner of the bedroom, naked, holding his erect prick in one hand while he puffed on a marijuana cigarette. Harvey, through some hippy connections, was the source for grass at the Spanner parties. He sat, holding his breath, a lewd smile on his face as he ignored his wife and Chuck and watched Anne's gleaming buttocks as she slowly turned in time to the music; low, cool jazz being played on the stereo.
Muriel had kicked her panties off and was lying naked, her legs spread wide and her hips pumping as Chuck teasingly massaged her fully exposed cunt. Her eyes were half closed and she was murmuring to herself. "Oh, baby, not too hard, be nice to mama."
"When I get through with you, you'll know you've been fucked," Chuck said in a low voice.
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Anyway you want it baby."
"I want it everyway. All ways."
Chuck gave a harsh laugh. "And you'll get it!"
"I can't wait to get that Murcer kid."
Anne smiled and rubbed her hands over her oiled and supple body. "Have to get in line, Muriel."
"Yeah," Chuck said, "Don't upset the applecart. I got him all set up. You'll get your turn."
Muriel was getting hot now her hips rotating around as Chuck sunk a finger in her cunt and she cupped her breasts in her hands and closed her eyes. "Oh, baby, I can't wait."
"You'll wait," Chuck said with a teasing tone to his voice. "When the time is right, you'll get yours and I'll get mine."
Over in the corner, Harvey exhaled and laughed. "You won't be the only one. That Murcer bitch is too much. Built like a brick shithouse."
"Yeah," Chuck said, grinning, "And it is going to be fun breaking her down. She's a little like you were a year ago, baby," he said to Muriel. "Want me to tell you what we're going to do to her?"
Muriel sucked in her breath. "Jesus, Tell me!"
Chuck bent over her and, with a grin, started whispering in her ear. Muriel's mouth fell open and her eyes rolled around in her head and she moaned, "Oh, God!" Her hips began moving faster as Chuck sawed his finger in and out of her fleshy moist cunt while her hands played with the nipples of her breasts, nursing them erect. "Chuck, you bastard, you beautiful bastard! Tell me more!"
Chuck and Harvey laughed. "Turns you on does it?"
"You know it!" she hissed passionately out.
"Tell me more and fuck me at the same time!"
"Waytogo! I wanna hear you beg for it, baby." Chuck said in a rough voice.
"Please, please!" Muriel begged, thrashing around on the bed, her eyes wild, looking around the room at Anne and her husband grinning at her. "Please! Fuck me! Do those things you were saying, to me! Please!"
Chuck gave a cold cruel laugh. He delighted in seeing women craven and begging. He pulled his hand away and fell back on the bed. "Maybe I will and maybe I won't. Suck it for awhile. I want to watch Harvey try to catch a greased pig."
"Hey," Anne said, stopping her dancing and pouting. "I resent being called a pig."
"Sorry, baby, just a figure of speech. They call cops 'pigs' too. Whatever you are, you ain't no pig. Come on Harvey, or are you too stoned?"
Harvey put the burning joint out and got to his feet. "Never too stoned for that." Greedy glazed eyes took in Anne's naked body. A depraved grin came across his face. Anne, a flaming redhead with big firm breasts and an incredibly thin waist and wide hips and long, willowy thighs and legs, began dancing more wildly, running her hands over her body, having them meet at her crotch where they hotly kneaded her pubic hair as her hips twitched and bumped hungrily out in front of her.
Harvey made a lunge for her and she danced away.
Chuck, on the bed, propped his head up on some pillows and roughly grabbed Muriel and tangled his hands in her hair and pulled her toward his throbbing cock. Muriel didn't need much encouragement, seizing his mammoth cock with both her hands and opening her mouth wide to suck on the head while she rolled her eyes around to watch her husband struggling with Anne in the middle of the room. Chuck had the biggest cock she had ever seen and she loved being fucked by him, loved the feeling of her vaginal walls being split beyond belief, to the point where she felt she was going to be split in two and the pain mounted and rose until she thought she couldn't endure another stroke or second and then, then, magically, pleasure mixed with the pain and built and swelled until she was in ecstasy. Thinking of the pleasure that was sure, sooner or later, to come, she sucked fervently on his cock, the thick massive head filling her mouth completely.
Harvey was lunging at Anne who was nimble and quick, dodging and slipping away with her breasts leaping and quivering, her entire glistening body quivering and undulating, driving Harvey mad.
Harvey crouched low and lunged, getting one arm on a thigh. Anne wiggled free and his arm slid down her leg and he fell heavily to the floor. He got up, breathing hard, crouching like a lineman in a football game as Anne circled him. "You bitch!" he hissed.
He lunged again and tackled her around the waist, the two of them falling heavily to the floor where they writhed, Harvey grunting and crawling atop her. Anne was too quick and, using the lubrication of the oil, she slipped out from under him, leaving him face-flat on the floor. She was laughing, getting to her feet when Harvey's arm shot out and snared her ankle. Anne was crawling across the floor, laughing, her breasts pendulous as Harvey crawled after her, his own body smeared with oil. On the bed, Muriel was on her knees now, still sucking, feeling Chuck's cock swell in her mouth. Below them, on the floor, Harvey was getting both hands on Anne now, wrapping his thick arms around her thighs and lifting them off the floor, forcing her over on her back. Then, on his knees, his cock big and waving, he spread her thighs apart and looked down at the swollen loveliness of her cunt and the hot moist slit framed by her red pubic hair. "Now, baby, you're going to get it!" he roared.
He fell on her and they were a tangle of arms and legs as he fucked her with all the pent-up lust and frustration booming out as his balls slapped against her oiled buttocks and Anne wrapped her long glistening legs around his thick torso and locked her ankles and thrust her hips up with all her might.
On the bed, Chuck raised his head to watch Harvey's cock plunging in and out of his wife's cunt. "Jesus!" he said hoarsely and, using his superior strength, he pulled Muriel's vacuuming mouth off his cock and rolled off the bed and onto the floor. Muriel, giving a little cry of lewd triumph, fell off the bed and on top of him and, in a matter of seconds, they were a writhing mass of hot lustful flesh, together on the floor, abandoned, indifferent to who did what to whom.
CHAPTER 4
Carol lay in bed and bit her lip, not wanting to cry. The room was dark and she heard Bill moving from the kitchen to the living room of their small apartment.
What in God's name was there to do, she wondered. She never dreamed it would be this way. Marriage was not what she had expected or been told it would be. Her mother and father seemed so happy. Biting her lips again, she asked a silent question: why, oh why, couldn't they be like her mother and father? They were so good and kind and gentle to each other.
Her mind drifted back to when she was living at home and had met Bill. Although she had dates before she met him, she had never been serious about anyone and had never, ever, gone to bed with anyone. Bill had been the first and only man in her young life.
In the dark, she smiled bitterly. The phrase, gone-to-bed, sticking in her mind. She had heard of it, along with some filthy four letter words. It had been one of those four letter words that had set her off back at the Spanner party. She knew that Chuck was Bill's boss and, it was important to cultivate both of the Spanners if he was going to get ahead. But, she had overheard that smirking and vulgar Abram's woman use the word, "Fuck." And others. She had been humiliated by the other women when she innocently asked what the men were up to. Muriel had rolled her eyes and said, "I wish I was there and instead of a movie, they had me."
"I beg your pardon?"
"They're watching home movies," Anne Spanner had said with an enigmatic look at Muriel. "That must be nice."
All the women had laughed or smiled and Carol had stood, feeling as if she had been scalded. Something about the glances they ex changed, the way they grinned at her, told her they were making fun of her.
"Oh, come on, you're not that naive. Nobody is," Muriel said scornfully.
Anne shot Muriel a warning glance. "You know how men are, honey," she said, turning back to Carol. "They just like to get together and whoop it up without the women around, that's all."
"That's all, my foot!" Muriel said. "What the hell, what's everybody afraid of? They're watching some stag movies."
Carol looked blank. She knew what 'stag movies' were, but she couldn't believe her ears. Here were wives, knowing about it, and laughing over such an evil thing!
"Feelthy pictures!" Muriel leered, imitating some Tijuana pimp.
Carol was stunned. Her husband, Bill, was down there watching something obscene and filthy going on, and he didn't tell her about it! He had known yet pretended he didn't know! He was down there with other men, leering and laughing and loving it, watching some debasement, some hideous perversion of the thing she called 'love.'
And now in the darkness of their bedroom, with Bill out in the living room with the TV on, crystal tears welled in her eyes and b-rimmed over to flow down her cheeks. Had there been a light on, she couldn't have seen; didn't, at that moment, care to see. She was thinking of leaving Bill, of going home to her parents, where she could be safe and secure. She loved her parents and they loved her. Her father was a fine man, a gentleman, and treated her kindly and lovingly Carol had developed early. When she had entered high school, she already was shapely and drew crude wolf calls from the boys and heard them mutter smutty suggestions to her in class and when she was walking down the hall. She hated P. E. when she had to don the gym uniform and run out on the field, her breasts jouncing as all the boys ran to the fence that separated the practice field and she would go through calisthenics while the boys hooted and made catcalls and some even called out vulgar suggestions until their gym teacher could come get them and force them away. Even some of the younger male teachers looked at her with something other than an academic interest.
Rather than being proud of her body, she was ashamed of it. It was too fine-boned and voluptuous, too beautifully curved and refined. No one would ever have trouble telling she was a woman. When she walked, it was like oil pouring or jello quivering. She couldn't help it and, at home, in the privacy of her room, she practiced walking in a way that wasn't suggestive. She wore high necked clothes and stayed away from miniskirts.
She became known as an 'old-fashioned' girl, a mother's baby, a 'square.' She didn't mind when boys failed to call for dates and those that did, had to meet with her parents approval before she was allowed to go out with them. Her parents were strict, yet loving. She had had long talks with her mother about the 'state of matrimony' and what was expected and what was allowed and what was 'decent.' Her parents were religious and Carol, naturally, was too. Most of her dates were at church socials which were chaperoned and supervised and most of her dates were with a young boy, Jeff Winters. Her parents had approved of Jeff and, although there was whispered gossip that Jeff was "A little too refined, a little too effeminate for his own good," Carol had liked him and had enjoyed going on dates with him. Jeff was always a gentleman, a good dancer and funny. And, with Jeff, she had felt 'safe.' He would never do anything to embarrass her. It had been fun being with Jeff, almost as if he had been another girl friend and she was sorry that he finally moved away, to New York City, where he got a job decorating windows for Macy's. Jeff had always been clever and, when picking her up for a date, had sat and chatted with her mother about interior decorating.
Wistfully, Carol wondered if she could ever find Jeff again. It would be nice to see him and talk with him. Her mother had always hinted that perhaps Jeff might be a nice young man to "Get serious with."
Carol sighed and wondered, if they had continued dating and gotten married, just what their wedding night would have been like. Certainly not like what had happened with Bill.
After the wedding, Bill had driven a breakneck speed to the hotel they were going to stay at the first night of their honeymoon. He had driven with a half-drunken recklessness, and several times she had pleaded with him to slow down. In their room, while she had demurely retired to the bathroom to change into her negligee, Bill had drunk, like a crazy man, from a bottle of scotch some friends of his had given them at the reception.
Coming from the bathroom, Carol had hoped it would be the way she had always dreamed it would be, the way her mother and minister told her it should be; a thing of beauty and tenderness and understanding and, somehow, some way, being "nearer to God and Christ." Her mother had told her that her wedding night had been a thing she would never forget as long as she lived. "Your father was so understanding and so refined, I fell in love with him all over again."
And, instead of her father sitting in the chair, rising gallantly when she walked into the room and being a gentleman and doing ... Carol wasn't really sure what he had done or what anyone was supposed to do ... she just imagined music and a good feeling and.... "Being nearer to God." Instead, there was Bill, a glass in his hand, his eyes glazed and his speech thick. His face was covered with sweat as he lurched to his feet and his eyes, his eyes were lustful and greedy and disgusting as he took in her body and he swore and grabbed her and threw her down on the bed and, like an animal, like a wild man, he tore at his clothing and then at her beautiful negligee and ripped it, ruining it forever.
It had been a nightmare, with her pleading, trying to keep her voice down so no one could hear, trying desperately to talk to him, to penetrate his alcoholic haze, but he only grunted and slurred filthy words and hurt her until, lying on top of her, her negligee torn half off her body, with his crude hands pawing her, massaging her in secret and intimate places, she had submitted and he had fucked her.
And she had loved it!
A guilty, lustful, hideous feeling had swept over her and, for a split second, there had been the lewd, obscene knowledge flowing in her body; that guilt-ridden lubricious knowing that she was doing something terribly wrong and depraved and perverted and loving it!
She was not what she thought she was! She was not like her mother! She was not a good person! Nor was Bill, for he was dragging her into evil ways and she wanted to shout, scream for him to go on and suddenly, he roared and his body stiffened and she felt his cock grow in spasms in her tight little cunt and she felt his cum, hot and plentiful, shooting into, filling her up with a hot wetness and a lewdness swept through her body and she felt she would like that many more times.
And then, then, when she was passionate, when she felt herself teetering on the edge of an abyss, when she felt she could abandon all her training and she could fall, wanton, lewd, into a deep valley of sin and sex and never return, when she felt her body alive and tingling with some kind of unholy electricity, when she felt her hips beginning to move in an alien animal way, Bill grunted and his body relaxed and all his sodden alcoholic weight pressed down on her and he passed out.
It took some doing to get him off of her and he finally rolled over and snored loudly and Carol was left lying on the bed, her desire waning, her guilt coming back. She put her hands over her face and cried. This was not the way it was supposed to be, this was not anything but an animal act, a mindless pleasure of the flesh. And she was no better than he. She had let him throw her around and treat her like a whore and, had he not passed out to her own growing horror, she would have acted the same way.
Crying, she stumbled to the bathroom and looked at her tear stained face in the mirror, at her beautiful full-moon breasts with red marks where he had roughly clutched them. Using a towel, she gingerly dried her vagina and wiped all the sticky cum off the insides of her thighs and, gritting her fine white teeth, looked in the mirror at her fine-boned face with her slim exquisite nose and her tilted green eyes and vowed, no matter what, never again!
And she kept that vow. She loved Bill, there was no doubt of that and, all in all, he was a fine person with a good character. If it weren't for sex, there life together was a good one. He was kind to her, a hard worker, ambitious, never forgot an important event like a birthday, and neat. At times, he could be very funny. Although, like most men, he disliked going to church, he would go with Carol when she thought it was important.
But, it was the matter of sex that was becoming a widening gulf between them. Carol spent a great deal of time thinking about it. She knew that Bill was not very experienced in sexual matters. At least, he said he wasn't and she had to admit that he was an honest person, not given to lying. She decided he had to be educated. His vulgar suggestions and tendencies had to be dealt with firmly. He would see the light, he would treat her with respect and love. When he brought home a nudist magazine filled with color pictures of naked men and women and shyly-with just the hint of a dirty smirk-suggested she look at it, she had taken it from him without a word, put it in a brown bag, and thrown it in the garbage. "There," she had said triumphantly, "Now it's where it belongs!"
Carol seldom if ever drank and only allowed liquor in the house as something to offer guests. One Saturday night, they had gone to a movie that Bill wanted to see. "The guys at work were talking about it." When they arrived at the theatre, Carol looked at the pictures displayed in the lobby and knew it was a sex film. She had been firm, saying she wouldn't go, that if he wanted to go by himself to see such filth, it was all right with her, but first, he had to take her home.
They had ended up going to see a Walt Disney "family film" and Bill had sulked all the way through it. Back at home, he had poured himself a drink despite her disapproving gaze. He had had several drinks then gone to fetch a deck of cards and put them in front of her and, with a smutty smile, suggest they play poker.
"Poker? Just the two of us?"
"Yeah," he had said, "Strip poker."
The deck of cards joined the magazine in the garbage.
She constantly warned and urged Bill not to drink, for she noticed that he became lewd and crude after drinking. Now, lying in her bed and fighting the feeling of self pity, she knew that he was in the living room, watching TV and probably drinking. She also knew that she had strained relations with the Spanners by her behavior at the party and, perhaps, ruined or at least damaged Bill's chances of advancement at work. She felt bad about it, but felt it was the right thing to do. If things were too bad, there were other jobs. Not everyone was like the Spanners. She admitted to herself that she didn't like them and their friends. Particularly Chuck Spanner who was just a little too friendly and leering and insinuating. She had felt her flesh crawl the way he had sat next to her at the party, so close, his eyes roving, and his hand squeezing her shoulder. There was an energy, an evil energy that the man exuded. She felt uncomfortable around him and hoped she would not be seeing him again.
The door to the bedroom slowly opened and light from the living room flooded across the bed. Carol hastily wiped her eyes and saw Bill standing silhouetted in the doorway. From his stance, from the way his arms swung at his sides, she knew he was drinking. Without a word, he came to the bed and fell on top of her and she struggled, turning her head to avoid the alcoholic fumes that reeked from his questing mouth. They struggled silently with Carol holding the covers up while his weight pressed on her. Even though they were separated by clothing and covers she could feel the hardness of his member pressing on her stomach. "No, Bill, you've had too much to drink!"
"Damn it, Carol!" he grunted.
"I said NO, not when you're like this!
"How then!" he shouted, getting up, "How? God damn it, are you frigid? What in hell did you marry me for?" he demanded, stalking the room and waving his arms. "What in Christ's name do you want?"
Carol sobbed. "I want you to treat me decent, like a husband should!" Tears scalded her face.
Bill stood in the middle of the room and gaped at her. "And how is that? You don't want a husband, you want a God damned roommate!"
"Oh, Bill, don't yell so, the neighbors will here."
"Fuck the neighbors!" he shouted, stalking to the door. "That's not a bad idea," he said, coming back, pointing a finger, "Since I can't fuck you. Every night, there's some excuse and I go around feeling guilty and apologizing because you make me feel like I've done something wrong. Listen, Carol." He bent over the bed and his hands seized her shoulders and he shook her as his reeking breath blasted in her face. "I'm going to tell you something. You got some weird notion of what sex and love are and I'm sick of it. You'd better do some hard thinking because I'm a man and, God damn it, a human being with feelings and desires and if you don't shape up, you're going to be sorry and find yourself minus one husband and back in that ivory tower you call home. And, he shook her so her head snapped with each and every word. "You'll ... end ... up ... an ... old ... maid!" Then, he threw her back on the bed and stalked from the room, slamming the door so hard a picture jumped from the wall and fell, with a crash, to the floor. Carol lay stiff in bed, her whole body jumping as the front door opened and slammed with a repercussion booming through the house. "Oh my God," she wailed up into the dark, "What am I going to do?"
"What am I going to do?" Bill asked, wild, walking, his hands in his pockets. He felt he had drunk too much to take the car and he only wanted to walk to work off his anger and clear his head.
He walked along, head down, his legs snapping out under him. A malicious smile came over his lips. He knew what he was going to do. He hadn't really admitted it to himself prior to now. Since things were the way they were, he was going to take Anne Spanner up on her offer and call her. Thinking of his young wife's reflection, he said aloud, "It serves her right!"
CHAPTER 5
By the time Bill returned home, Carol had fallen into a deep but troubled sleep. He lay in silence beside her, listening to her murmurings. He felt sorry he had treated her so badly and vowed to make it up to her. Maybe he could find a way-or help-to change her attitude about sex. God, he thought, she's got such a magnificent body. Until their wedding night, he didn't really believe that all he saw belonged to Carol. Yet, it was true. Her breasts were large, almost too big for her body, yet they didn't sag but stayed proudly erect, like twin honeydew melons. Her rib cage was delicate, curving down to a long silky smooth stomach that had just the right contours. She had a jutting mound of Venus and two provocative pelvic bones prominent and inviting. Her thighs were full and well developed. When she wore high heels, her calf muscles bulged invitingly. And her buttocks. Bill groaned aloud whenever he thought of her buttocks. They were full and deep and soft, with just the hint of a shadow under each cheek.
He lay in bed, feeling another erection coming on and he longed to roll on top of her and fuck her into a frenzy then ram his cock into her mouth and see those full red lips lose their dignity and suck him off. His mind swarmed with obscene things he wanted to do with her and to her. Yet, he controlled himself and closed his eyes, trying to will sleep. Tomorrow, he would call Anne Spanner. Maybe she had been drunk. The Spanners drank a lot. Maybe she wouldn't remember or maybe the way he had acted had turned her off. He would see. Anne Spanner was no slouch herself. She was a big redhead with a magnificent build and he loved the idea of fucking her. It was dangerous. Chuck was not only his boss, he was somebody that Bill wouldn't want to tangle with.
He drifted off to sleep with a monster erection and had wild dreams of naked women crawling all over him.
When they got up in the morning, he was extra nice to Carol and she seemed grateful. As he was leaving, he gave her a peck on the cheek and said, "I'm sorry about the way I acted. I've been thinking about it. Maybe I should change my ways. Maybe we should sit down and have a heart-to-heart talk."
Carol felt a bubble burst in her throat and she made a face to keep from crying again. "Oh, Bill, I love you. My face must look terrible."
"What do you mean?"
"My eyes. They're all puffy. Yes, we'll talk about it. How about tonight? I'll cook a pork roast. That's your favorite."
His face clouded over. "Eh, well, yeah, maybe. I forgot. Chuck said we might have to work overtime tonight. Something about getting the Mannings job out."
"Oh," Carol said, visibly disappointed.
"I'll know by this afternoon and call you. Okay?"
"Okay," she said, smiling through her disappointment.
"Wayto...." Bill stopped. He didn't want to imitate Chuck or even mention the Spanner name. "Thata gal. I'll see you." And he took her in his arms and hugged her and gave her another peck on the cheek. Then, impulsively, he kissed her on the mouth.
She responded warmly and then he pulled free and left, waving all the way to the car. Once out of sight, he thought, Jesus, what a bastard I am. Then he smiled at the thought, thinking he had never felt so alive as he did now, anticipating all the pleasures to come.
Once at work, an ugly reality came into his mind. How would Chuck react to their abrupt and rather impolite leaving? Perhaps, because of Carol, his fantasy of fucking Mrs. Spanner might just be that: a fantasy and nothing more.
Yet, Chuck was full of his usual vigor and casualness. "Say, sorry you and the missus couldn't stay. Anything wrong?"
"Naw," Bill said, inwardly sighing with relief, but outwardly full of bravado. "You know how women are. She's okay now."
"Waytogo! Look, Bill, I got some things to do." Chuck suddenly was preoccupied and Bill watched him carefully. "Wouldn't you know it?" Chuck went on, "First damn thing in the morning and I get a call on the Slate job. Somebody upstate can't read blueprints so I got to fly up there late this afternoon."
Bill's heart gave a little flip-flop of joy.
Chuck would be out of town overnight! He grinned at him, liking the feeling that he was putting something over on such a guy as Chuck Spanner. "Oh, too bad."
"Yeah. And me with a hangover. Look, I'm taking you off the Mannings job and I want you to spend the morning checking out the Slate job so that I'll know what the hell I'm talking about when I get up there. I've called Anne and she'll have my bags packed and I'll leave the office by three and catch the four-thirty plane so I'll want your analysis by no later than two. Got it?"
"You'll have it by lunch," Bill said, slapping him on the back. "Waytogo."
Bill worked with a meticulous care, one eye on the clock. He had the papers on Chuck's desk by eleven-thirty and coasted until lunch, savoring the whole feeling. It was exciting and dangerous. And, he was being a bastard. A bastard to his wife and to Chuck. But, there was something really exciting about it. He had been a nice guy all his life and where had it gotten him? Now, he was going to take what he wanted and the hell with the rest. The half hour from eleven-thirty until noon seemed to drag by like it was wading through hip-deep mud. At noon, the guys, his fellow workers, invited him to lunch with them. He said he would, but first had to call home to see how his wife was. "She's not feeling too well."
"Too bad."
Outside the office, he had to keep himself from sprinting to the corner drugstore. Seating himself in the booth, he folded the door closed and then looked carefully at the other customers in the store, a dime in his sweaty fingers. He didn't recognize any of them. Swiftly, he dialed Chuck Spanner's home number.
The phone rang once, twice, and then was snapped up. "Yes?" a low husky voice asked.
He felt a throbbing, a pulsating in his groin. It couldn't be anyone else. "Anne?" he asked rhetorically, thrilled by the fact that he was calling her by her first name.
"Bill? Bill Murcer?" There was a yawn, then the voice went on. "Well, Bill is growing up." There was a pause and he imagined she was still in bed, naked, and rolling over on her stomach to smile into the receiver. Her voice came over the receiver and into his ear low and sexy, really saying much more than the simple question she put to him. "And, are you free tonight? Can Billy come out and play?"
"Sure am," Bill said with some bravado.
"Well, that's nice. A nice coincidence. Why don't you come over here around, oh, say, five or five-thirty and we can get together for a drink and little...." and her voice trailed off into a low register, "Little fun."
Bill felt like dropping the phone and masturbating right then and there. Instead, he said, "Sure thing. See you."
"You're gonna see all of me."
Bill swallowed and hung up with a shaking hand. He sat for a full minute, trying to compose himself. This, he thought, is really happening. This is happening to me, Bill, William Murcer!
With a wild elation, he dialed his home number and set his face in a remorseful, respectable cast as the phone rang once and then was answered by Carol. "Hello? Bill?"
"Yeah, it's me," he said, striving for a disgusted tone in his voice. "And I've got to work. No way out of it."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Will you be terribly late?"
"I think so. Don't worry, this is an emergency. Doesn't happen too often."
"Shall I wait up for you?" Carol asked, a plaintive quality in her voice.
"No telling how late I'll be," he answered, barely resisting a wild impulse to laugh. "Why don't you go visit your parents?"
Carol sighed. "Maybe I will. I miss you and I did so want to see you tonight and talk.
"Another night," he said, smiling into the phone. Another night, he thought, tonight, I'm going to have a ball.
"I love you."
"I love you, too. And I gotta go. "Don't work too hard."
Again, he resisted an urge to laugh. "I won't. Just do my job. Bye."
"Bye."
He hung the phone up and sat back with a sigh. He had lied and lied successfully. He was a bastard. And, late today, tonight, he was going to fuck the boss's wife in his own bed. The thought made him smile. He was really going to put one over on a lot of people.
If the half hour between eleven-thirty and noon dragged, the rest of the day seemed to positively stand still. No matter how hard he worked no matter how much he accomplished, every time he looked up at the clock, it seemed that hours had gone by in his desire but only a few minutes on the cold impersonal clock. Everything, he thought, is relative.
The work day finally over, Bill tried to be casual and matter-of-fact with his coworkers. He had seen Chuck hurrying out of the place earlier, an attache case in his hands, saying, "I'll see you tomorrow or the next day. Waytogo!"
"Just the way to go," Chuck said, under his breath, "And when you're going, I'll be coming," he added and tried not to smile.
As he got near the Spanners, he lost his composure and thought: supposing someone sees me? I can't park at their place. Too bad it isn't dark before I get there.
He drove past the Spanner home, thinking of the swanky neighborhood they lived in. Although Spanner's job was good, this was a stiff rent area to live in. Rumor had it that Chuck had plenty of money, that, at one time, he had owned a company of his own and had left it, sold it, for reasons unknown. Whatever his background, one thing was clear: Chuck Spanner had money to spend and he lived in a high style. There was always a look and smirk when his name was brought up at work. Nothing much that Bill could ever make out was said, but he got the general impression that Chuck was quite a guy, a "swinger." He had heard the word used more than once in connection with Chuck. Perhaps, he thought as he drove by their house, perhaps I'm not the first guy to make this trip.
Had he known, fully realized, had been able, by some supernatural sense, to know what was in store for him and Carol, he might have driven on. But, he didn't. All he could think of, all he could see in his mind's eye was a vision of Anne Spanner standing with her legs far apart and a lewd smile on her lips as she had hiked her dress up around her waist.
Driving on, a nearby shopping center seemed to answer all of his immediate problems. He parked outside the supermarket, checked to see if there were any customers he could possibly know, then swiftly stepped out of the car, locked it, and walked away. In his mind, he was pinpointing the location of the Spanner house. There were back streets, nice, curving, residential houses set well back from the street, through which he could walk, staying away from the main streets through which he had just driven.
He walked swiftly, looking ahead, noting with delight that the Spanner house had a back entrance. He paused, at the foot of the walk, wondering, for a moment, if he was doing a wise thing? Supposing, he thought, something happened? Chuck's plane didn't get off and he's home? Wouldn't it be better to retrace his steps to the supermarket and call first?
Hell no, he thought with a swagger, she would have called. Whatever else she is, she's no dummy. And so what if he is home? Bill, the bastard will think of something to say. Way to go.
He rang the back door bell and waited, gazing into their spacious and well-appointed kitchen. All the latest in electric gear was in there. Anne Spanner came through the kitchen with a drink in her hand and a quizzical look on her face. She smiled when she saw Bill and hurried to the door. She opened it and leaned against the doorjamb, one provocative hip thrust invitingly out. "Well, look who's here."
Bill looked at her. It was quite an experience, gazing into those startlingly blue eyes framed by red hair and orange lipstick. She was wearing a simple low-cut cocktail dress, black and with a very short hem, showing plenty of her curvaceous legs. Right then and there, he wanted to attack her, fuck her, right there in the doorway. She looked, smelled, reeked, and raged of sex. Here, in front of him, was a desirable woman, flaunting her femininity as she thrust her hips out toward him and her cherry-red tongue thrust out between her lips as she smiled and said, "Don't just stand there. Come on in and have a drink and do all kinds of obscene things to me."
He followed her through the kitchen. Outside, pale blue-white moonlight made the night clear and still. The moonlight came in long shafts into the kitchen, catching Anne in an aura of sensuality as she moved, ahead of him, her buttocks swinging in a tantalizing motion, slow and rolling. Bill swallowed, already aroused and afraid. He could not resist asking, "Did ... did, ah, Chuck get off okay?"
Over her shoulder, her billowing red hair caught and softened by the moonlight, she smiled wickedly. "All's well and the only thing you have to fear is," and her cherry-red tongue licked her lips as if she had just tasted something delicious, "me."
She led him through the house that was at once familiar and alien. Last time he was here, there had been so many people. They went down to the romper room and, again he had that sense that it was the same, yet different. The projector and screen were gone. Beside the bar was a large TV set and what looked like a push-button console. Bill tried to remember it and couldn't. At the party the TV and console had been draped by a sheet and he had supposed it was something under construction conveniently covered for the party. "That's some set. Never seen one like that," he said as he slipped onto a barstool.
Anne sauntered behind the bar, a smug look on her face and clicked the set on then busied herself with finding a bottle. "Closed circuit TV. Some of the best programs ever televised have been seen on that set."
The screen blinked then swelled to a glowing gray. "You mean it shows around the house?"
"Not all over. Push that top button on the left," she said, not looking at him as she bent over in front of him, revealing her billowing breasts clear down to where he could see a black bra just cutting her pale pink nipples from view.
He tore his eyes away and focused on the button and pushed it. Instantly, a room came on the screen; rather, a bed in a bedroom appeared. Bill instantly knew what the camera was for. He pushed another button and another bed appeared. Pushing a third button, still another bed appeared.
Anne, straightening, a bottle in her hand, looked and said, "That's the master bedroom. That," she said, pulling the cork from the bottle, "Is where I sleep and play."
The bed was king-size and covered with a royal purple bedspread. Vivid orange drapes covered the walls behind it. It looked to Bill like his idea of a high-class whorehouse, the kind of thing any guy would never dream existed.
"Believe me," Anne said as she carefully poured a thick, faintly yellow liquid in two glasses, "What goes on, on that set gets rougher than the last quarter of the Superbowl and a hell of a lot more interesting."
Bill tried to suppress a giggle. He was de lighted and excited by her flippant, irreverent way of talking. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at the glasses.
"A little aphrodisiac." She smiled at him through her eyelashes. "I don't want you giving out when I'm just warming up."
Bill looked at the bottle. It was plain and dark green, with no label. "Aphrodisiac? I thought that it was an old wive's tale. I never knew any existed."
Anne raised her eyebrows and gave a little mocking laugh. "Oh, Baby, are you ever innocent. This is absinthe. It's made from wormwood and it's illegal now. They used to drink it in France around the time of Toulouse Lautrec. Believe me, it works."
Bill watched as she poured a little water in each glass and the liquid turned from a clear pale yellow to a murky, swirling green. She handed him a glass and then gently clinked hers against his. "Here's to a long and interesting evening."
Bill tasted the drink tentatively. It was a rich oily drink with a surprisingly mild taste. Following Anne's example, he tossed his head back and swallowed the smoky liquid. "That's pretty weak."
One shoulder of her dress slipped down, revealing a soft bare shoulder and one breast, cupped snug and secure in her bra. "Just wait, don't be impatient," she said as she carefully measured out another drink. "In a little while you'll be making passes at the goldfish."
Bill grinned at her audacity. With a secret tickling and swelling, he wondered if, later, while he was fucking her, he could get her to say obscene things. With a jerk of his head, he asked, "You don't really use that thing, do you?"
"The set?" she asked, purring, putting her elbows on the bar and leaning forward, again giving him a breathtaking view of her breasts, snowy white, glowing with a soft pinkness, held so invitingly before him by her black bra. "Only when I'm bored or want to turn on. This switch down here will play any tape we put on it."
"You mean you photograph what ... eh, what happens?" He looked at her half-thinking she was putting him on.
"If it is interesting enough," she teased.
"What for? I mean, why?"
"Well, to get us in the mood. When a new member comes into the club, it gets wild and its always nice to go back over it later on."
"Club?" Bill tried to feign nonchalance, yet his heart was beating hard and heavy. "What kind of club?"
Anne rested her cheek on one hand and regarded him with a bemused look. "Don't tell me you don't know or haven't guessed?"
"No, I haven't," he lied. He had really guessed, but didn't have the courage to say it. He had read about such clubs and had always wanted to believe in them yet he couldn't, figuring they were too good to be true, that they were just the work of somebody's imagination. Many nights he had lain in bed next to a sleeping Carol, his cock aching, and fantasized about such a club and both he and Carol were in it. He tried to imagine how he would feel and act. In his imagination, he enjoyed it, lusted with Carol watching, completely losing her dignity, and being fucked by other men. Now, the reality was something different. His lips and mouth were suddenly very dry and he licked them, looking away from the sensuous form draped over the bar so close to him. "No, honest," he lied, "What kind of club is it?"
Anne smiled at him, her smile slowly broadening into a throaty laugh. "Well, you could call it a wife-swapping club. I call it a husband-swapping club. All in the way you look at it."
Bill found himself stammering. His mind told him one thing and his body was beginning to tell him quite another. A rich, swelling warmth, a lewd liquid thing was seeping through his body and all kinds of sexual desires were swirling, darkly, through his loins. For the moment, his mind won out. "What kinda ... what are you ... I couldn't. My wife would never....I don't think I c ... c ... could ever...." his voice trailed off and he looked at her with a flat frightened expression.
"Relax," Anne murmured. "Here, let's have another drink to set us up." She laughed and stood up, raising her glass. "Relax and drink. I'm honest with you and you're upset."
Bill raised his glass automatically. "Chuck. Does he know?"
Anne laughed and her face took on a sultry look. "This is a busman's holiday for me."
"B ... but, are you going to ... ?" He couldn't finish the question.
"Tell him? Honey, we have an arrangement. I don't tell him what I do and, in return, he doesn't tell me what he does when he's away." Anne stared down in her drink and mused, a hint of hardness coming over her face. "Pot calling the kettle black."
"Wow. Excuse me. This is all too much to believe. Aren't you afraid you'll get caught? Aren't you afraid I'll tell?"
She leaned toward him again, her breasts billowing, straining to break free. "Listen, we pick our members carefully and once they're in, once they've come to a party, they trust us. We just trust one another." She gave a hard laugh. "We have to, we've got so much on each other."
She came slowly around the bar with Bill swiveling on the seat. She came up to him and put one of her legs between his and curled her hand around the back of his neck. "And you, you won't tell. You're dying to know more. Aren't you?"
Her perfume was musky and dark, hinting of many nights in bed. His brows knitted together. "Yeah, but I could ... I just couldn't get in your club because of my wife. I just couldn't unless," and his heart skipped a beat, "unless you let just guys in, guys like me."
Anne leaned away from him and thrust her breasts out and swung back and forth, teasing. "Maybe. Sure you want to join?"
He passed a hand to his eyes. That damn absinthe was getting to him. Anyway, something was. What was he saying? What kind of people were they? What kind of a person was Chuck to let his wife behave in this way? Was this a setup? Was he being used for some purpose he couldn't understand? How could he ever look Carol in the face if she knew what he wanted to do? It would be impossible to ever get her to join such a thing. Yet, as his mind whirled with confused thoughts, he found himself staring at Anne Spanner's taunting figure and felt his cock swelling large and hard. To hell with it, he thought, I'll make sense of it later. He reached for her as she let her hand go from back of his head and stepped away.
"Drink up," she said, "I'm going to change into something more comfortable and appropriate. Amuse yourself while I'm gone. This dial here," she said, turning to the console, "is for focus and zoom shots so you can zero in on any detail you want." With a wicked look over her shoulder, she undulated from the room. "I won't be gone long," she called back as she disappeared.
Bill finished off the dregs of his drink and looked around him. God, he thought, what have I gotten into? These people don't make any sense! They think differently about things!
Feeling insecure, he decided to have another drink. No more of the absinthe. He had heard bad things about it and didn't want anymore of it, aphrodisiac or no aphrodisiac. He slipped behind the bar and scanned the bottles. Johnny Walker Black Label. "That'll do," he muttered and poured himself a generous drink and dropped in a few ice cubes. He drank and choked on the strength of the drink, thinking, Bill, you'd better be sure of what you're doing.
"What did you choke on?" Anne's disembodied voice asked. He whirled looking around the room for her. "A drink?" her voice asked. "I heard you mixing one. Don't drink too much, darling." Her voice had a slight metallic ring to it and Bill turned in the direction of her voice. It was coming from a chrome-meshed speaker built into the console. "Where are you?" he asked.
"I told you, changing into something more comfortable. I'll only be a few more minutes."
Instead of asking her where she was, a sly smile came over his face and he reached and pushed the number three button on the console. Instantly, the screen was filled with a picture of the bed in the master bedroom. Fiddling with the dial, he zoomed in and then back again. Turning another dial slightly, he saw another section of the room. Making the camera pan around, he caught and focused on Anne Spanner.
"What are you doing?" her voice asked.
"Just having a drink," he lied, smiling at her image.
"There's a little toggle switch on the upper right hand side of the console. Turn it on and you'll have some music to help the mood along," Anne said, not looking at the camera, but rather looking at herself in a full-length mirror.
Bill flicked the switch and some low, cool jazz came out of hidden speakers and he settled back on his bar stool and lit a cigarette, his eyes on the screen, watching the full image of Mrs. Spanner. He watched as she reached behind with one hand and unzipped her dress and it fell to the floor around her. He felt a slight jerk from his prick beneath his pants as her body came into view. She was moving slowly, allowing the effect to sink in; she was moving at a teasing pace because she knew he was watching. There were no lewd or obscene movements on her part and she behaved as though she were in her dressing room alone, unaware of his existence. He felt somehow like a peeping Tom looking into a window from a secret hiding place in the driveway.
The lewd and illegal thought somehow made her performance all the more appealing to him.
He felt another slight jerk and swelling under his pants, his cock hardening as she turned from the camera and bent over to pick up her dress from the floor. The full rounded melons of her buttocks came into tantalizing view on the screen. She couldn't have been more than three feet from the lens and it gave him a clear view of the narrow black nylon strip of her panties between her firm full thighs that tightened momentarily as she bent over. The panties slipped teasingly, slowly, into the crevice of her buttocks from the pressure and stretching of the position and then remained bunched and buried in the hollows as she straightened up again to take the dress to a hanger on the wall. He watched her, holding his breath, as she walked-really sauntered-across the room, the cheeks of her buttocks joggling slightly as she moved. It was a careful, designed, practiced walk that smacked of stage or dance training though imperceptible unless one knew she had once worked as a dancer.
By this time, Bill was too far gone to think rationally. The absinthe and his own desire rose in him, like flood waters in storm drains. To hell with Carol, it was her own fault. And besides, this was too much. Anne Spanner was built. And ready. And so was he. This moment, this delicious lewd moment, was worth anything.
He leaned forward, smoking fast, watching more intently as Anne removed a drape from one wall, revealing a full-length mirror. She turned back from the wall dressed now only in a bra, panties, and garter belt. The thin veneer of the stockings she wore shone silkily in the low light of the room and her black highheeled shoes set them off to good effect. It suddenly occurred to him that he'd like to take her, fuck her, like that with the stockings and high heels still on. He had never seen a woman like that and once, when he had tried to playfully pull Carol down on the bed while she was undressing, she had, in her best puritanical manner, pushed him away and ended her preparations for bed in the bathroom with the door closed and locked.
Chasing Carol out of his mind with a mental back-of-the-hand, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the tiny beads of perspiration that were forming on his brow and upper lip. He quickly poured another drink from the bottle he had left standing on the bar and drained half of it before he realized he hadn't taken the time to add ice. He needed now. The erection in his pants had arisen to almost its full height. The tight restricting material of his shorts hurt and he pushed down, allowing it to slip out of one leg band into the greater looseness of his pants. He squeezed it, feeling its hardness and a lewd thrill, thick as honey, swept over his body.
"Bill," he suddenly heard her voice, soft and right next to him, coming over the speaker. "Bring my drink."
It unnerved him to have her speaking like that, knowing he was watching and listening. He had been too much with his own feelings and her image on the screen to expect a sudden sum mons.
"Bill, baby, are you there?" she asked in a soft husky whisper.
"Y-Yes," he stammered back at her or, rather, at the speaker. "I'm bringing it now."
"Well, hurry, it's impolite to keep a lady waiting. Especially when the lady doesn't want to act like one."
Hurriedly, splashing the liquor a little, he refilled his glass and then poured one for her. He switched off the TV and, with the drinks in hand, walked from the romper room. His courage was bolstered by the strangeness of the absinthe and he walked with a swagger, thinking, with a grin, he should go back, switch on the TV and ask directions. Yet, from their previous tour, he knew approximately where the master bedroom was.
He found his bosses wife waiting at the door for him. She stared at him with a sultry look then slowly smiled as she took the drink. She was wearing a light nylon robe, bright green, that came to the tops of her thighs and it was obvious that she had shed the bra and panties while he was mixing and fetching the drinks. She had left the garter belt, sheer silk stockings and high heels on. The deep belt, sheer silk stockings and high heels on. The deep cleavage of her breasts showed without the restraint of a bra and the nipples of her soft breasts pressed against the frail material of her robe.
"Mmmmmmmmmm," she grinned over the top of her glass she took from his hand. "You're learning quickly. Just the right amount."
"I've been getting in a little practice," he said, raising his glass toward her. He suddenly found he wasn't nervous at all. He felt the beginning of a glowing power and self-confidence that he had never known or experienced before. He felt terrific, as if he had finally found the true strength within himself. Married to Carol, so many things and feelings had waned away. He was now in a position so many guys spent their entire life just dreaming about.
If anyone had ever told him about such a woman as Anne Spanner and such a house that she lived in, he wouldn't have believed them. Had he been able to believe them, he would have envied them for the rest of his life.
But Anne was real and it was him, Bill Murcer, in her house and he was feeling mighty good. A vague sense, a feeling of having been cheated, clouded his mind for the moment. Hell, he thought, all these years I've been buying the wrong story. This is the way to live!
Anne lowered her eyes for a moment to the bulge at his crotch and grinned again, this time with a wicked edge of intimacy on her lips.
"You like me," she said, mock serious, I don't know how I can tell."
Bill laughed, following her into the room. "You must be very observant."
"Can't help it," she shrugged, settling herself on the edge of the bed and leaning back on both her elbows. The softness of the robe rode up over her full and thrilling thighs, exposing the soft silky down of her mound of Venus at the base of her smooth white belly. She patted the bed beside her, indicating he should sit down.
"Well," she said after he had settled himself comfortably. "Tell me something about yourself. I know so little about you." Again, she had that mocking look on her face. "Or your wife," she added.
Bill was taken aback for a moment. What was there to say about himself? Or, Carol, for that matter? Their lives were pretty ordinary and, actually, dull. Before he could muster an answer, Anne tossed her head and said, "No, never mind, it doesn't matter. We can get to know each other gradually. How did you like the absinthe?"
"It makes me a little more uninhibited. I'll say that for it." And, as if to prove his point, he reached over and let his fingertips trace little invisible designs on the whiteness of her stomach.
Anne shivered for a moment. "Mmmmm, it makes you bolder, too. At first, I didn't know if you were going to walk out on me or make an alibi or what."
Bill screwed up one eye. "Let's see. That was about two hundred and fifty light years ago, I think. Hey, whatever this stuff is, it sure does change perspectives." He felt his face flush as he drained his glass. "Can I get you another drink?"
Anne pointed. "There's some there in that wall cabinet. Everything, including an ice making machine."
He rose, taking her glass from her hand and glanced down at the thin hair-lined lips of her vagina clearly visible between her slightly parted legs. He found he did not blush this time and a pleased, crooked smile crossed over his face as she opened them a little more, a teasing grin on her face with just the tip of her red tongue caught between her teeth. He could see that she was excited with the first tiny dewdrops of moisture rising between her legs now faintly visible, glistening in the tight narrow slit as she exposed herself to him. He hurried even more than before with the drinks, the heat in his own body mounting and melding with the delicious lubriciousness of the absinthe.
When he returned to the bed with the drinks, she had loosened the front of the robe and her large full mounded breasts were exposed, her pale pink nipples staring at him wetly. She had moistened and massaged them with saliva and the bud-like tips throbbed slightly from her touch.
"Jesus, you're something else," he muttered, staring down at her nakedness with the drinks in his hands. He could see that her eyes had dialated slightly from the excitement she was feeling. It was all he could do to keep from throwing the drinks away and falling to his knees and locking his lips and mouth on the softness of her flesh at that very moment. But, with his new self an inner confidence, he held back. This was not the kind of woman you could simply fall on and bang away until you came. This wasn't the kind of woman you would want to do such a thing to. This was one you had to play with and the reward would far exceed the torture of waiting.
"You know, don't you, that you're quite a handsome and sexy man," she said, reaching up for her drink.
Bill knew he was good looking, but never knew he was considered handsome and sexy. He decided to say nothing but, "Thank you."
"Have you had many women? Other than your wife, I mean?" She asked the question so casually, like, "Do you take sugar and cream with your coffee?"
"Enough," he lied, his ego taking over. If she thought him handsome and sexy, he had to play the part. When in the service, he had had his share of whores. Without waiting, he leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips.
Gently, she pushed him away. "Here, put my drink down for me or pretty soon I'll be lying in a lake of booze and ice cubes."
He took both the drinks and placed them on the floor by the bed quickly then leaned over her again, pressing his lips tightly down against hers. His boss's wife reached up, twining her arms around him and pulling him down on top of her. One of his legs fell heavily between her open thighs. She was surprisingly supple and soft and her body was glued to his as though she was part of him. She moved her thigh up against his crotch as he ground his lips harshly against hers, bringing his cock to a painful hardness. He could feel the wetness from the seminal fluid seeping from the gland on the hardening thick tip. It smeared against the leg inside his pants until he could feel her thigh wet from the material. She massaged him with a deft, practiced movement until he thought the head of his cock would explode. It was jerking, convulsively, as though he would cum at any second and he pulled his mouth free from hers and put his head by her cheek, gritting his teeth and willing the orgasm back. He clung to her while she kept up her incessant massaging and he thought, guiltily, of Carol and the shock to her if she could see him on top of a nearly naked Anne Spanner, his bosses wife. She would never, ever, be able to understand or forgive him.
"Is your wife good in bed?" Anne whispered in his ear, as if she were reading his thoughts.
"She's too inexperienced," he whispered without the slightest hesitation or shock. Jesus, he thought, I've changed, I've changed completely !
Anne's body writhed slowly and restlessly and she forced his mouth around to hers. "I'll teach you some things you can take home and try out on her," she whispered, the whisper sounding like a promise. Slowly, their lips met and she buried her tongue in his mouth. Her tongue slowly retreated making way for his own while her teeth nibbled at his tongue, sending little shivers up and down his spine. She pulled away once more to breathe heavily in his ear. "Let's get naked." And with that, she ran her wet tongue in his ear and he shuddered as he pulled himself to his feet. He stood for a second, dazed by the absinthe, the other drinks, her lewd beauty and his own passion.
"You want to fuck me, don't you?" she whispered, looking up at him with fogged-over eyes.
"Jesus, do I want to," he answered, the lewd words coming from her mouth exciting him more.
"Then tell me. Say it!"
"I want to fuck you." The words spat out. He had never said that to a woman before and the words seemed to excite her even more as she writhed on the bed and moaned.
"How?"
"Deep, deep down and hard. I want to fuck you like you've never been fucked before."
"Oh, God," she said, her hips grinding down in the bed while her hands convulsively bunched the covers. "Get those clothes off before I die!"
He began desperately stripping his clothes from his body and flinging them away. He didn't care about anything at the moment, nor did he feel any embarrassment when he finally stood naked in front of her, his cock sticking out in front of him. He watched as she lifted her body slightly and pulled off the robe and kicked her high heels off so that they fell, with twin thuds, on the floor below. Then she was lying on the bed in nothing but her garter belt and stockings with her eyes riveted on his prick standing out in the air. With a teasing grin, she watched the throbbing of the blood-filled head for a second, and said, "I love it. It's going to feel good sliding up inside of me and feeling your strength while you do anything you want to me. I want to feel that twisting around deep in my cunt. Oh God, I want to feel you fucking me with that!" She closed her eyes and shuddered. Despite herself, she felt the thrill of being naked and passionate before a virile young man. She loved to be dominated. Chuck dominated her like no other man, humiliating her and hurting her until the pain and humiliation turned to pleasure and she felt as if she were in paradise. Chuck had arranged this whole evening, had ordered her to seduce Bill Murcer and had even, down to details, instructed her what to do. And she was obeying them to the letter, knowing that Chuck was somewhere in the house, taping every word and action. He had not instructed her to be masochistic, but she couldn't help it. Not since the night, a year ago, in the romper room when Chuck and five of his male friends had made her strip and they gangbanged her. They were ruthless and demanding, humiliating her while her husband watched and approved. She had loved it! It had been the beginning of a new life for her.
Now, she writhed on the bed. "Come on, fuck me, stick that thing in me!" she begged.
He lay down on the bed beside her dragging her to him. He moved one hand down and felt her place her buttocks over it. He cupped them, feeling their smoothness. They were beautifully shaped and sinewy as he had expected them to be. Her body was warm and soft against him and she raised her face to his, locking her mouth tightly over his as her hand searched expertly down between them for the hardness of his cock. He gasped when her little fingers grasped his penis and gently squeezed it then slowly rolled the skin back so the head could slowly bulge and mushroom out. Her odor: her perfume mixed with her sexual heat maddened him. Her lips were soft and giving and rubbery and she crushed the full length of her body against his and ground her pelvis tightly into him before suddenly, with nostrils flaring and eyes half closed, twisting her body and pulling him at the same time on top of her. With a liquid slowness, she opened her legs wide to take him between them.
Chuck Spanner sat at the bar in the romper room, sipping at a scotch, smiling at the TV screen. Still smiling, he rubbed his chin with his hand. "Waytogo," he silently said then leaned forward to check and see if the taping was going smoothly. He had sat in his den, listening over the intercom from the moment Bill had entered. Once he was sure they were in the master bedroom, he had slipped down to the romper room and started the tapes-visual and audial, going. Now, he sat back with arms folded and watched his wife with Bill Murcer.
Anne crushed Bill tight to her and ran her hands searchingly all over his body, exploring eagerly all the secret hollows of him. Sensuously, boldly, her fingers and hands felt the hardness of his buttocks and traced their way down the crack that joined his cheeks together and, as she did so, the hair on the back of his neck prickled in a delightful way and his whole body shuddered. His cock was throbbing hard against her thighs and pressed into the narrow hair-lined slit of her softly pulsating cunt. She arched her back for a moment, levering them both up off the bed in a tawny, taut, movement and, reaching under with her hands, she cupped her twin buttocks then worked her hands forward and up until she pulled her vaginal lips slowly apart, allowing his prick greater contact with the wet, sensitive inner flesh of her cunt. His prick lay the full length of the hot, moist, gently throbbing slit. She relaxed, dropping back on the bed, his ramrod cock trapped tightly between her firm thighs.
With a deft, wonderfully coordinated use of her muscles, the lips of her vagina expanded and contracted, half covering one side of his cock. She smiled lewdly as she felt his cock swell to a skin-stretching size and a soft moan burst from his lips. He forced his hands between her shoulders and the mattress and ran them down the soft curves of her back and hips. He could feel the raised ridges of her spine moving in an almost imperceptible cat-like movement as she undulated her body up against him in a slow teasing rhythm. The sinews of her muscles rippled lightly just under her white skin indicating a powerful strength hidden by her feminine wiles and ways. The tensile-strength of the cords of thighs pressed against the outside of his hips. He wondered how they would feel, gripped around him later when he had sunk his blunt hardness deep into her.
"Oh God, this is good," she whispered, writhing the flatness of her warm stomach up against him. Her nails trailed slowly across his back, leaving red railroad tracks and she moaned and then hummed lowly to herself as he pushed his hands further down beneath her, using his strength, cupping the fullness of her buttocks in the palms of his hands and pulled her open crotch up tighter against his cock. He moved her buttocks up and down slowly, insinuating the hardness of his full erection up and down the length of the slit, sensing it growing hotter and wetter with each lubricated stroke and passing second. Her hips began a more desperate rotation up against his loins until her legs, with no warning, slid out wide on either side of her body, her ankles crossing, her calves locking against the back of his thighs, pulling him down tighter into her.
"Oh, God. Fuck me. Fuck me now, darling, fuck me now!" she moaned into his mouth, her eyes clenched tightly shut, her pelvis grinding, her arms holding him tight so that he crushed her breasts.
He started to move but she beat him to it. Her hands came down between their legs and clutched his throbbing cock, guiding it between the lips of her hot desire-drenched cunt. Bill groaned into her mouth as he felt her moving it up and down between her legs, parting the soft silky hair of her vagina with the hammering, blood-filled head. She grazed it teasingly against her cunt, forcing it into a final, greater hardness until it ached from the excruciating pressure.
He couldn't hold back another second. It was as if he had suddenly lost all control and, in a wild sense of abandonment, had gained complete control of himself and the situation. He flicked his hips forward before he could think, giving in to instinct, and plunged his hard ram pant cock into the gaping hot mouth of her waiting pussy.
"Oooooooohhhhhhh!" she moaned beneath him as he felt the hot, moist, elastic-like sheath slip wetly over his sensitive naked flesh. It had entered plowing, mushrooming its way and she held her vaginal muscles tight as he drove deeper, only gradually relaxing them. His long thin cock raced up her cunt to the full depths of her belly, warm and tight at first, aching the full length of his rigid shaft and then, lewdly, liquidly, easier as the wetness of the passage surrounded his cock, oiling the way. He plunged until his rod was sunk as far as it would go, his balls slapping with a lewd, smacking sound, against the firm cheeks of her buttocks.
Anne Spanner gave out a low animal-like moan beneath him, twisting instinctively to escape the sudden unexpected pain. Bill gritted his teeth and thrust harder, screwing his pelvis tighter into her loins so that there was no escape for her. He had her pinned down to the mattress good and he lay for a moment, feeling her shudder of joy at the hopelessness of her predicament pass through her body and finding herself savagely grinning at the knowledge that he could hurt her so easily. He had gained the upper hand for the first time because he knew he could hurt her and she couldn't hurt him back. Moreover, he knew she wanted to be hurt, that he could drive her to wild paroxysms of pain and ultimate searing pleasure. He reveled for another moment in the power he possessed over another man's wife impaled beneath him and flicked his hips again bringing another low half-moan, half-wail from between her clenched teeth.
W a y t o g o, Chuck Spanner thought as he turned up the sound level on the console as he sat watching romper room. This Murcer kid is good, he told himself, grimacing at a twinge of jealousy as he saw how much his wife was enjoying her task. He set his jaw and grinned coldly. If Anne didn't suspect it already, she was in for a surprise when that kid got through with her. He'd have her babbling later tonight.
He sat back with his chin in his hand, watching, getting horny, sipping his drink, contenting himself with what he would do to his young employee's proud little wife when his turn came. His grin took on a wolfish mask as he quietly whispered, "Have your fun now boy, because you're going to watch me fuck the shit out of your wife while I show you how it's really done."
Bill ground his pelvis into the squirming flaccid flesh under him as she strained back, arching her loins up at him, lifting them both a few scant inches off the mattress with all the strength of her body. She was moaning continually beneath his pounding body, opening and closing her legs around him in a convulsive, heated manner as she worked her way up and down in an atavistic rhythm of fornication as old as time itself. She was caught in the pulse of life, her mouth agape, her head flailing from side to side in wild abandon.
"Ohhhh God, I love it! Take me! Take me, shove your finger up my ass! Make me scream, damn it, make me scream and beg!" she spat at him, a dazed look on her face.
He reached under her between her buttocks as he drove his cock brutally and rhythmically into the wetness of her willing cunt. His lips twisting in a cruel smile, he stretched the crevice of her buttocks wide, searching, with the tip of his finger, for her anus.
And found it!
A small rivulet of juice had flowed down the widespread slit from where he, with the tips of his fingers, could feel his hard, barlike cock fucking hotly into her. It moistened the tight puckered little hole, lubricating it slightly and he probed experimentally for a moment with the tip of his finger. He had never done such a thing before and the lewdness of it exciting him, causing him to deepen and increase his tempo with her added wails telling him he was having the right effect. He pushed hard, feeling it give a little in an elastic way and then, then suddenly the tight rubbery nether ring gave way completely and his finger slid in up to the first knuckle joint. She jumped forward, almost crawling and squirming on her back to escape the first shooting pain.
"Aaaaaaaggggghhhhh! Oh, my God, it hurts!"
Grinning, he thrust again, sinking it in to the second knuckle joint.
"Ooooohhh, yes! Yes! Yessss, yessss! Hurt me! Hurt me more!"
In spite of the intense pain, he felt her suddenly begin screwing her buttocks back on his finger until it was sunk to the third knuckle joint and the palm of his hand was pressed flat against her firm, grinding buttocks. He bent and jiggled it inside, rotating it around in the fleshy depths of her rectum. With a lewd thrill, he could feel through the thin wall of flesh separating her two passages and sense the underside of his cock gliding in and out of her cunt and he began sawing the finger in and out, maintaining the same rhythm as his cock as his boss's wife groaned hotly under him. His nail caught the flesh of her rectum momentarily, scraping her and she jerked and her face twisted and she fought to get back into the rhythm again, her hips undulating and pumping, opening her legs wider still to give him even greater excess to the ravishment and enjoyment of her loins.
Bill, pretended for a moment that it was his own wife's rectum he had his finger buried in and could feel his cock expanding until he felt the head was going to explode, burst, from the exquisite pleasure building up in his testicles as they slapped heavily and rhythmically against Anne Spanner's crazily grinding buttocks. She had to cum soon, he told himself. It couldn't be much longer and, in his new found self, he knew he could suffer the denial of his own pleasure longer than she could. He almost chortled with his new found strength but instead, he snarled and rammed his cock into her with long hard strokes in time with his finger worming in and out of the tight rubbery flesh of her anus.
He could tell she was nearing her climax as she gripped him tight between her trembling thighs, opening and closing them in time to his long hard battering-ram strokes deep into her hotly clasping pussy. She gurgled beneath him, the sound coming from deep down in her. Her eyes were rolling back in her head as though she had no control over them and her face was contorted like a sprinter straining for the tape.
"Ooooohhhh, fuck it, fuck me all over, fuck me harder, harder, hurt me! Hurttttt meeeee!" she chanted, panting, mumbling all the obscene words that came to her mind and spurring him on with the pounding of her heels high on his back. She had jackknifed her legs up tight, pressing her knees back hard into her breasts and offering him the full opening of her upraised. "Fuck, cunt, prick, suck, fuck!" she chanted in a breathy, excited voice.
"I'm cumming," she coughed suddenly, her mouth slack and gaping wide in ecstatic abandon, her eyes showing white. "I'm cumm ... I'm cumm ... mmmmmming!" And then her lips were working frantically as she silently mouthed sentences that didn't make any sense even to her. She pulled back her thighs tighter until the whole of her pink, wide-stretched vaginal slit was held up and presented to him to batter and use as he willed. Her ankles were locked behind him high on his back and she urged him on to even wilder thrusts as her hands were thrown wild and her fists tried to crush the sheets in convulsive grasps.
Now this is going a little too far, Chuck told himself. Then, he gave a little hard laugh, thinking, I'm the director of this little drama and I'm complaining because the actors are enjoying their roles. God, she's a hot fuck, he told himself as his mouth opened in admiration and lust.
A low scream, a keening, a wail, a primeval urging vocalized it and Anne felt the sound then heard it mixing with the brutal sweating, panting, bucking and rhythm of their thrusts and her nostrils flared wide as the veins in her neck stood out and, with a superhuman effort, her loins jerked spasmodically against his belly and her vision blurred and all was going black from the sheer bliss of her searing pleasure. Her voice swooped low and dark as she bellowed, "Ooooooh God ... I'm cuuuuummmming!"
She was pinioned in time and place for a split second then she collapsed under him, going limp as her bones suddenly felt like warm butter. She lay still, except for the uncontrollable quivering and contractions of her cunt still tightly locked around his tortured prick. Sullenly, brutally, he pushed deep into her and lay quiet for a moment, allowing her to rest.
It was all he could do to keep from bellowing and fucking her into madness. God, he had never seen anything like this in his whole life. He had never felt anything like it either. He knew he could never be satisfied with Carol again. Not that he ever was. Sex with her was something she let him do to her while she lay quiet and tense. No more of that for him. He didn't know what he would do, but he would do something.
Looking down at her blissful face framed by her wild red hair, he throbbed the muscles of his prick deep in her belly, hoping to arouse her again.
"Oh, that was nice," she slurred, "I haven't had a ride like that in a long time."
"Way to go," he said with heavy irony, enjoying the idea of mocking her husband.
In the romper room, Chuck nodded at the set and said, "Oh, you'll pay for that one, Murcer."
"You're not finished yet," Bill said, looking in her blue unfocused eyes, a hot hard aching throbbing deep down in his balls.
"God, you're good!" she said in true admiration.
"Yeah, but now I want you to be good!" he panted.
She purred and put her arms around him. "Wanna cum?"
"Yeah, I'm almost there," he grunted.
"Get off. Roll over." She smiled up at him in a sweet way. "I'm going to give you a reward for being so good and patient."
He pulled back, sliding his hard cock wetly out of the soft warmth of her satiated cunt. He loathed pulling it out, wanting, instead, to stay on top of her and fuck her and shoot his waiting sperm deep up in her flat little belly. Instead, wanting to learn and experience more, wanting to please her, for now he saw her as a regular thing, a good lay whenever his boss was out of town or she could get away. Maybe, if he played it cool, he could get into their wife swapping club without Carol and fuck his head off whenever he liked. This, he told himself, was the only way to live, fucking his bosses wife and having her love it. Too long he had felt worthless, too long he had felt the lack of an identity. Now, he was somebody. He could satisfy an experienced woman who knew how to fuck. There was no end to the possibilities his life could offer if he only had the guts and sense to seize it.
He rolled off her slowly, falling onto his back, thin sticky trails of her pussy juices following his cock across her lower thigh. He lay tense, gazing up, noticing for the first time that the ceiling was mirrored and he could see both of them reflected in it and he followed her movements expectantly without having to raise or move his head.
She turned on her side toward him and, reaching out, she began stroking his cock with her hand, sliding the loose flesh up and down in a slow magical rhythm that caused his ache to increase almost beyond belief and endurance. Then, as he watched with half closed eyes, she got to her knees and hovered over him on all fours, her face a scant few inches from the pounding moist head of his prick. She held it tightly between her hands, stroking it between the flat of her palms in a teasing up and down motion that caused his loins to undulate in time to her insane rhythm. He moaned and rolled her head back and forth, anticipating, hoping that she would do what he thought she wanted to do.
Her head dropped slowly toward his hard cock held up by her hands and suddenly her tongue flicked forward, the tip boring teasingly into the wetness of the tiny gland on the end. He lost his breath from the sudden thrill and chills ran up and down his spine bringing a long groan from his twisted lips. Pursing her lips, she brought her mouth down all the way, enclosing the whole of his sensitive head in a moist warm pressure. Her lips tightened like an elastic band around the shaft just below the head, trapping it completely inside the warm wet cavern of her mouth.
"Jesus Christ!" he groaned, lifting his head from the bed and staring feverishly down at her contorted face. The sight of his hard shaft of rampant flesh sunk halfway into her honey sweet, roundly ovaled mouth increased his pleasure a thousandfold. It was just like in the movie. Only better, it was happening to him. His shaft was still wet from her orgasm and it glittered and glistened like some primeval stump and he gaped as he watched her lips working their way down the slippery shaft, taking more of his cock into her saliva filled mouth. She massaged the soft resilient skin of his testicles gently with one hand and stroked the base of his cock between the thumb and forefinger of the other as she began to suck rhythmically up and down. He could feel the wet softness of her tongue twirling slowly, maddeningly, around the head of his cock. As she withdrew her mouth with each sensuous stroke, the tip of her tongue unerringly flicked across the tiny opening of the gland on the end. He flexed his buttocks, his head still raised, watching her red hair cascading down to hide part of her face as her head bobbed up and down. The sight of her sucking him made it all the sweeter and more exciting for him.
Anne could feel his throbbing, pulsating reaction and began to suck his cock a little harder, the tips of her teeth digging gently into the hard resisting flesh, leaving small white trails where they had scraped the blood from beneath the surface of the skin. She shifted her position over his thigh without taking her mouth from his prick or breaking the tempo of her head bobbing and kneeled on all fours between his open legs. She reached under his buttocks and cupped them in her palms, pulling his loins up tighter to her face. Her tongue swiped and whipped around the growing gland furiously until Bill felt it near the bursting point as she took almost all of his tortured shaft deep into her throat and somehow continued to suck on and on.
Great billowing swirls of heat were building up deep in his balls as he watched her face working above his sweating, rolling loins. He could see beads of sweat on her face that formed tiny rivulets and snaked down her face and down the sides of her body as she bucked and bobbed over him like a harpy gone mad, greedily devouring him. The muscles of his stomach tightened until he thought he would break under the pressure as he arched his back up off the bed pushing even deeper into her throat and he watched, hypnotized as thin pink ridges of flesh pulled out from her mouth, clinging greedily to his withdrawing cock. Then he watched with a madness mounting in him as he thrust home, deep, again and saw her lips grow white and thin as he rolled them inward by the savageness of each thrust.
He groaned over and over again, muttering between clenched teeth. Then, the moment was here and a low guttural sound started somewhere deep in his chest as he felt the hot sticky sperm begin its mad rush from the sanctity of his constricting testicles and roar, ballooning, up his bulging shaft and begin spurting and spewing in hot thin streams into her hungrily sucking mouth. He watched as her cheeks began expanding and hollowing fish-like as she greedily swallowed the warm flooding gushes to keep from choking. She went on sucking wildly, desperately, as he emptied his white-hot sperm, pumping, into the wetness of her mouth.
His hands tangled in her hair and brutally pushed her head down onto his throbbing prick as he tried to thrust it past her tonsils. She fought to regain her breath, breathing hard through her excitedly flaring nostrils while still sucking hard on his still cumming cock. He moaned at last and let his head fall back and his hands fall limp at his side, completely satisfied. Slowly, his cock deflated in her mouth but she continued her frenzied, gently, wet sucking, drawing every last tiny drop of the warm sticky semen from his battered and flaccid prick.
And then, there was nothing left to suck.
She had sucked him dry and he lay quiet while she rested her head on his thigh, his cock still in her mouth, nibbling gently on it. Then, opening her mouth, she let the deflated cock slide out and she crawled up over his body and cradled his head against her still heaving breasts. She bent down and kissed him on the lips and cocked her head, smiling and asking, "Like?"
All he could muster was a happy groan.
She moved up his body and brushed the nipple of one breast gently over his lips, her loins slipping on top of him, her legs wide and he could feel the wetness of her cunt and pubic hair on his stomach. "I know a lot more," she murmured.
"Oh, wow, there can't be more," he groaned.
"You can find out on Friday," she said softly.
He pulled her down and grinned up at her. "Think we can get together then?"
"Sure," she said matter-of-factly, "We're having a party then."
"Huh?"
"Huh!" she mocked back. "We're having a party. Want to come?"
"One of those swapping parties?"
"Yes," she smiled, snuggling closer. "And a nice one. Only the best of friends will be there."
His face clouded. "I don't know if I can get out that night. My wife, you know."
"Bring her."
"What!?"
"Bring her, she might enjoy it."
"Are you crazy?" he asked, pushing her away and getting up on his elbows and looking around for his drink. "She would go out of her mind and divorce me and call the cops." He thought for a moment. "Besides, she's my wife," he found himself saying, surprised at himself. It was true, he wouldn't want any wife of his acting like Anne Spanner just had.
"That's selfish. It's also an insult. It's all right for me to do it and you to do what you want to me, but it's not all right for somebody else to enjoy her. Is that it?"
There was an edge to her voice and Bill sensed he was on the verge of ruining a good thing. That power, that sureness he had felt while fucking her, was gone. He was unsure and, unreasonably, resentful. "It's different."
"It isn't."
"It is."
Anne wiggled close to him, her body warm and soft and she spoke softly in his ear. "You like what we did?"
He nodded, looking at their reflection in the mirror on the ceiling and saw her grinning lewdly. "You like some more?"
Again he nodded.
"Some different things?"
"Like what?" he asked with just a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Like," and her voice was soft and insinuating, "like two women at the same time."
Bill swallowed hard and felt a swelling of his battered and painful cock. "Two women?"
"Me and another girl I know that likes that kind of thing."
"Oh, my God. Are you kidding me?"
Teasingly, she traced a finger over his lips. "No, I'm dead serious. You'd love it and we'd do whatever you wanted."
"Anything?"
Her voice dropped to a lewd whisper. "Anything."
Bill felt his cock swelling and she wiggled her stomach against the swelling and added, "Anything and a few things you haven't thought of yet."
"Who is it, who's the other woman?" Bill asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling. He was hooked and knew it. More than anything he had ever imagined or thought, he wanted to get in bed with Anne and another woman and fuck them both. His mind reeled with the possibilities. He could command them to make love to each other and watch as they did it. All his life, the thought of two women, naked, making love to each other, licking one another into a frenzy, until they were wild and he could fuck them, had driven him mad. It was such an exciting idea to him, he tried not to think of it when alone. If he thought of it, he had to go to the bathroom and masturbate several times before the mad urging desire waned.
Anne cooed in his ear. "You met her, Muriel. Muriel Abrams."
"What? Her?" Wild scenes ran through his mind.
"Mmmmm. Muriel goes both ways. Likes to. She's always making passes and propositions to me. Muriel is really going the lesbian route."
Bill looked at her with a dazed expression. "And how do you feel about it?"
She giggled and curled her shoulders. "I kinda like it. Do you?"
All he could do was nod. His cock was painfully swelling again. "Then you'll do it?" he asked incredulously.
"Haven't I been suggesting it?"
"Okay, it's a date," he said. "Friday night."
"Friday night. And there's a price."
"Huh? What?" he asked suspiciously.
"You bring your wife."
"No," he said firmly.
"Why not?" she asked, her eyes wide in mock innocence. "Have you ever thought about it? Have you ever imagined what it would be like, watching your wife getting fucked by another man, seeing her face all passionate and fucking back against him. Ever think about it. Think."
She lay on top of him as he remained silent. Slowly, a low hoarse chuckle from her throat and she wiggled the soft curls of her pubic hair against his now rigid cock. "You just answered me. Think about it. Think about it all week. First time I saw Chuck fuck another woman, I went wild. God, we fucked the whole night away after that I"
"It's insane. You're insane," he said, staring at her.
She made an inexpert fist and playfully, lightly, tapped him on the arm. "If you haven't tried it, don't knock it."
"I could never get Carol to come to a thing like that."
"I could."
"What?"
She wiggled her hips provocatively, rubbing against his now fully erect penis. God, he thought, this can't be happening to me!
"I could get her here. If you want to, let me know. I know the idea turns you on," she said, grinding her pelvis down in a slow lewd way that only teased and excited him all the more.
"I can feel," she whispered in his ear.
"I think you're nuts," Bill managed to say before their lips and mouths locked together and he gave into his desire, his lust, with that great wild abandon again.
CHAPTER 6
When Bill left the Spanner house that night; Chuck Spanner safely in his den with two reels of tapes, he staggered to his car and simply sat in it, feeling oddly safe in a dark, parked, car. His mind was reeling and he shook his head and rubbed his eyes several times. If this was one of those dreams that is so real while it's happening, let me wake up and experience the shock and then laugh with relief, he told himself, slowly banging on the steering wheel with his fists.
He sat still as a car went by then he slowly and carefully lit a cigarette. The car and the cigarette were real and he wasn't having a wild dream, it all was and had happened to him. He started the car and drove toward home. When he neared the apartment they lived in, he suddenly veered off. A nice long drive was what he needed and the time to think. Perhaps a beer in some roadside bar. He couldn't go home like this, he couldn't face Carol with all kinds of sick thoughts crawling through his mind. He had to think some things out, had to understand some things about himself. First, what kind of person was he really? Before tonight, he would have sworn he was one kind of human being. Now he wasn't so sure. And he had to think of Carol and what he really felt for her. And the Spanners.
He groaned aloud as he drove, swerving slightly, as he thought of Mrs. Chuck Spanner. Anne. She seemed insane, unreal. And yet, she was very real. She was at least, doing what she believed in and what she believed in sent pleasant chills up and down his spine and his ravaged and sore cock swelled once more as he reviewed details of the night in his mind.
On the freeway, he headed out of town. He didn't know or care where he was going. What he was looking for was a place sufficiently far enough away in geography and atmosphere where he could sit and calmly put things into perspective.
He drove for long miles, the traffic thinning until the beams of his headlights were lonely twin cones stabbing ahead in the dark night. Far away, the horizon glowed. He drove toward it, expressionless, until he could see dots of red and blue that gradually swelled to be neon signs. A truck stop, complete with garage, diner, and a bar.
He headed for the bar and was relieved when he stepped inside and saw it was nearly deserted and an old-time narrow bar with stools, a few tables, and no booths. It was a plain blue-collar bar, the kind of place where men went and stood at the bar rather than sit and drank boilermakers and talked of women and ball games and left a stranger alone.
Only two people were in the bar; the bartender who had an apron wrapped around his pot belly and slicked a few black hairs across his shiny bald pate and an old-timer sitting at one end of the bar staring off into space, a lighted cigarette held forgotten near his lips, some change and an untouched beer, going flat, on the bar in front of him.
Bill nodded to the bartender and slid onto a stool with a sigh of relief. This was just the sort of spot he was looking for. He ordered a beer, grunted at the bartender's half-hearted attempts to make conversation, put a dollar on the bar and stared off into space. The bartender made change and wandered down the bar to reread the sports page of the local paper.
He sat, thinking and sipping at his beer until the old-timer slid off his stool and shuffled out the door. He sat, ordering more beers and sipping at them until the bartender waddled down to him and said, "Last call."
"You closing?" he asked, looking at the clock and wondering where all the time had gone.
"Couple a minutes."
Bill scooped his change up off the bar, spun a quarter down and hurried out the door. He veered out onto the highway and headed for home, speeding, anxiety making his foot heavy on the throttle. He hadn't meant to be so late and he hadn't solved a thing; his mind was still in a state of confusion with conflicting emotions tearing at him.
He let himself into the apartment as quietly as possible and found Carol half asleep, sitting up in a chair an empty coffee cup beside her with an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. Although her eyes were heavy with sleep, there was no mistaking her look. "Where were you?"
"I told you, working," he lied, walking to her and bending to give her a kiss on the cheek.
"You weren't," she said, pulling away.
"Aw, come on, I'm beat."
"I bet."
"I'm sorry. I just got so involved with work I didn't realize the time. If I had, I would have called you."
Carol rubbed her face and straightened her legs that had been curled under her, her housecoat slipping as she did, revealing her snow white shapely leg and part of her thigh. "Bill, I'm going to ask you one more time. Where were you?"
"I told you. Working," he answered, his voice raising in fake indignation.
Carol looked at him coldly. When it came to cold looks, Carol was in a class all by herself.
"I called." She said it flatly.
"The switchboard is closed at night," he said, thinking fast.
"I got a janitor. He was cleaning up and said the place was dark, that there hadn't been anyone there all night." With that, she got up and walked to the bedroom door, pausing then turning to glare at him. "You shouldn't have tried to kiss me. That really convinced me. Your breath reeks of booze."
Mentally, he kicked himself for being so stupid. Confused as he was, he hadn't given it a second thought. It was so late and he had felt sure she would be asleep by the time he got home. In his confused and guilty state, perhaps he had wished for her to be asleep so hard, that he had convinced himself. He shrugged and flapped his arms. "So I stopped off and had a few. That's a crime? I was tired."
She looked at him, fighting back tears. "So this is the way it's going to be."
"What? What are you talking about?" he yelled.
Her hand on the doorknob, Carol pulled herself together and answered calmly. "Kindly keep your voice down. If you don't have any respect for me, kindly have a little respect for your neighbors. It is very late."
"Carol ? " he asked, his voice betraying his inner confusion. It was almost a whine, yet there was something else. He couldn't help letting his eye wander over her body. Jesus, he thought, she has some body.
She looked at him then turned away, hurt, contemptuous, and walked into the bedroom with Bill dragging his feet behind her. She didn't speak or look at him as he went to the bathroom and belatedly brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth. In the mirror, through the open door, he saw her by the bed, taking off her robe. He caught his breath as he watched, clad only in a transparent nightie that ended at her thighs. She was standing with her back to him and her magnificently rounded buttocks made his cock give a jerk as she moved, her firm cheeks shifting slow and tantalizing. He saw her firm, perfectly rounded young breasts under the nightie as she shifted and got into bed. Large, ripe, like melons at harvest time, he longed to get in bed with her and suck on those beautiful nipples.
Coming to his side of the bed, he undressed, his back to her, hiding his penis which felt so tender and sore yet was swelling as he thought of her body. Damn it, he thought, if only she wasn't such a cold bitch, none of this would have happened.
Hurriedly, he got into his pajamas and under the covers. He looked at his wife out of the corner of his eye. She was lying still, her eyes closed. From her breathing, he knew she wasn't asleep. "Carol?" he called softly.
"Go to sleep. I don't want to talk to you," she whispered vehemently.
He heaved a heavy sigh. If only she had answered softly, if only there had been a note of tolerance in her voice, he would have told her the whole truth. Everything. He would have sat up in bed and blurted out everything and asked her to forgive him. Because of her coldness, the moment was past and forever gone. He shut his eyes and willed sleep and, because of all he had gone through, sleep came relatively easy. He fell asleep in a vengeful mood. I'm not all bad, he told himself, some of this is her fault too. If she wasn't so damn cold and it's not my fault I'm hot blooded. It serves her right.
He fell into a deep dreamless sleep and struggled to wake up the next morning and get to work.
CHAPTER 7
The next morning, Bill parked in the employees parking lot and walked to his desk preoccupied and frowning. Something wasn't right. Something was mighty wrong. Somewhere, somehow, he was overlooking something. He felt like a man who had only one piece missing from a jigsaw puzzle and he was on his hands and knees, annoyed, searching for it.
The missing piece was too obvious for him to see. His wife, Carol. Only she was ignorant of the club. He plunged into his work, trying to lose himself in detail and stop thinking of Anne Spanner.
At that moment, Carol, surprised, stopping to check her appearance in the mirror, was answering their door, wondering who could be calling so early in the morning. She blinked and smiled when she opened the door. "Oh? Mr. Spanner. Chuck. This is a surprise."
Chuck Spanner seemed to fill the doorway. He stood, exuding energy, an energy now confined. His face was set serious and noncommittal. "Good morning, Mrs. Murcer. I know this is unusual, but I have something of the utmost importance to talk to you about. May I come in?"
Carol was taken aback by his formality and the tone of his voice. Intuitively, she knew his presence had something to do with Bill. Her first thought and anxiety was that Bill had done something wrong at work. Chuck was carrying something under his arm. Flustered, swiping at her hair, she gave a nervous laugh and stepped aside. "By all means, Come in. I'm afraid the apartment is a mess. I was just going to clean when you rang."
He stood in the middle of the room, looking around. A polite smile came on his lips. "It looks very nice. You must be a good housekeeper."
"Thank you. Won't you sit down ? " she asked, in dictating a chair. "Can I fix you some coffee?"
"No thank you. I've been up for quite a while and I'd rather get down to what I've come for."
The formality and gravity of his voice caused her to sit facing him, her hands in her lap. "What is it? Is it about Bill?"
He looked at her for a moment before nodding. "You know then?"
"No, I don't," she answered nervously. "I ... I just guessed. Is it something he's done? Isn't he working out?"
"Working out." He pronounced the words slowly. "You mean the job? No. He's doing fine. That's about the only thing I can say for him. Actually, I was thinking in terms of promoting him before this other matter came up."
Carol's heart began to pound and she licked her dry lips. "Other ... matter?"
"Your husband is having an affair with my wife."
The words seemed to crack out like a rifle report in a canyon. Carol put her hands to her face. "That's impossible," she whispered.
"Where was he last night?" Chuck bent forward. All the charm, ebullience, and casual intimacy were gone. He was like a tough seasoned district attorney cross-examining a witness.
"He was working late."
"That's a lie. He was with my wife."
"I don't believe it."
"I can prove it."
"No!"
"Yes! This," he said, holding out a small oblong box, "Is a tape recorder. Your husband, Bill, was at my house with my wife, last night." He held the box toward her as if offering it to her.
She shrank back. "I don't believe it."
"Yes you do." he said firmly. "Your face tells me you do. Perhaps you don't want to believe it. Well, neither do I. I've suspected something for quite some time and believe me, I felt the way you do. I didn't want to believe it."
Carol slumped in her chair and looked dully at the floor and nodded slowly. "I knew. Last night, when he came home so late, looking so mussed and with liquor on his breath. I know. Oh, God."
Chuck set the recorder in his lap and pushed a button. Anne Spanner's voice, low, metallic yet clear, said, "You know, don't you, that you're quite a handsome and sexy man."
"Thank you." Carol gasped. There was no mistake, it was Bill's voice.
"Have you had many women? Other than your wife, I mean?"
"Enough." There was a moment of silence then the rustling of sheets and the sound of two people kissing. "Here, put my drink down for me or pretty soon I'll be lying in a lake of booze and ice cubes."
Again there was the sound of bodies moving and low mumbling. Then, "Is your wife good in bed?"
"She's too inexperienced."
Carol's face was crimson and she stood up.
Chuck punched another button and the tape stopped. "I'm sorry. I really am. It was necessary in order to convince you beyond any doubt. Believe me, this hasn't been easy for me. It gets a lot rougher later on. Do you want to hear it?"
"No!" Carol said, turning from him, her voice hoarse as she tried, futilely, to fight back tears. "Oh, God!" she said as she collapsed in the chair, her hands covering her face.
Her husband's boss's voice came to her over the sound of her sobbing. "I am so sorry. I feel the same way you do. But, I don't think we can afford such feelings right now. The important thing is for us to talk and decide what we're going to do. Decide what the most sensible thing is, decide a course of action." He got up and crossed to her chair, his hand on her shoulder lightly. "Why don't you go fix your face and we'll talk, calmly rationally."
She nodded and fled to the bedroom and into the bathroom where she ran cold water and held a washcloth to her face.
When she came back, Chuck was sitting in a chair, composed, smoking a cigarette. She tried to smile and looked away from him, still ashamed and humiliated. It was an odd and uncomfortable situation, talking to a man who knew she wasn't very good in bed. She sat down, prim, lacing her fingers together, looking at the floor. "I guess I'll get a lawyer."
"Eventually. But, what would you tell him?" Chuck asked in a quiet calm way.
"I'd tell him that I knew and that you knew and had a tape."
"Our knowing or saying that we know is not enough for courts in this state. And this," he said, tapping the recorder, "Is inadmissible evidence."
"I don't understand?" she said, frowning.
"Tapes can be changed, altered, edited. Someone could impersonate your husband or my wife. No," he said, shaking his head, "I'd advise you to have something more concrete before you go to an attorney. I certainly want something more substantial than this. First thing a good lawyer would ask is ... how did you get that tape?"
"Yes?" Carol asked, her eyes arching. "If you got that tape, you must have been there." Again, her face went scarlet. "Did you ... did you ... see?" That little word 'see' seemed so dirty and she felt lewd impulses stir deep inside her.
Chuck shook his head sadly. "No, I was out of town. As I said, I've suspected for a long time so I rigged a little booby trap. It wasn't too hard. A remote control device, much the same as you use when you turn a TV on, was put under the mattress. Whenever anyone sat or ... laid on the bed, the tape recorder was activated. I have a friend who is a private investigator and he lent it to me."
"And you found out," Carol said sadly, closing her eyes.
"I almost wish I hadn't. It was tough to sit and listen to that tape. As I said, it gets rough. Want to hear more? Frankly, he says some pretty terrible things about you."
"No!" She shook her head firmly. Anger was rising, boiling in her, replacing her grief. Later, she would have time for tears and sorrow. Now, an emotion as old as time itself was stirring in her. Heaven and hell know no fury like a woman scorned. Far back in time, when humans first roamed this earth, one emotion was felt: vengeance. Carol's fists were clenched, her jaw firm. She must, in some way, get even! Tears, this time stemming from anger and frustration, welled in her eyes. "I don't know what to do!" she cried.
Chuck leaned forward, the clincher ready. "I have a plan."
Immediately, they were two conspirators, leaning toward each other, their voices low. "What is it?"
"Well," Chuck tapped the recorder again. "Near the end of this tape, they make a date. They're going to meet this Friday evening."
"Good," Carol said maliciously. "Where?"
Chuck gave her a cold smile. "My place."
"Your home! The nerve, the gall!"
"Yes. I'm to be out of town again. We were going to have a party that night and I said something about canceling it but Anne insisted it go on. Said she would be lonely. I said okay. Now, she's going to have him at that party and, if he goes, we'll have a little surprise for him."
"What?"
"You and me. We'll hide in the house. There's a private entrance to my den and we can wait there. When the time is right, we can confront them, catch them, and have all the evidence we need."
"I ... I don't know," Carol was dubious. The thought of actually catching Bill and Chuck's wife in something naked and lewd disturbed her.
"You must," he insisted. "If you don't, I will. You see, if we get enough on them, they won't dare fight any divorce action on your or my part. They'd be afraid to and that way we can keep a lot of nasty facts from coming out. Facts, I might add, that could hurt you, and me, very much."
"I still don't know."
"None of this is nice or pleasant because the situation isn't pleasant. You have to fight fire with fire. If you can think of a better way, I'm willing to hear it."
"It all seems ... so ... terrible."
"I agree. But, just once, I want to see her face when she knows I've got her. Don't you want the satisfaction of telling him off?"
Again, rage built in her and she set her lips and nodded grimly. "Yes," she said, her voice growing strong, "I'd like to see that. I'd like to see him crawl."
"Then it's a deal?"
She looked right into his unwavering gaze. "Yes."
"Good," he said, getting up. "Say nothing. Treat him as if nothing had happened."
"That's not going to be easy," she said.
"I know, but you can do it. Above all, they mustn't get wind of our knowing. Remember that when you look at him and he lies to you. The party starts at eight. I'll pick you up a little after eight. I'll have a camera. Just leave everything to me."
At the door, Carol managed a smile. "I don't know how to thank you."
He looked at her quizzically. "I'm not sure you should, at least, not yet. Not yet. I'm sorry to bring you all this unhappiness. I thought it all over and decided a little hurt was preferable to a large one. See you Friday. Keep your chin up."
"Goodbye."
"Goodbye." And the door was closed and Chuck strode down the hall with his old cockiness, a wolf-like grin on his face. Chuck, he told himself, you old high-riding, double-clutching, jive-timing bastard, you brought it off. Friday comes and you're going to get yourself a great piece of ass and knock 'em dead!
Inside, Carol leaned on the door and cried softly to herself. In such a seeming short space of time, her life had come crashing down around her. The man she had married and loved was a stranger to her. That old saying that you didn't really know someone until you slept with them wasn't true. She had loved Bill, still loved him in some strange way, yet she felt she didn't know him. How long had this affair been going on? How could she face him tonight when he came home? How many others had there been? How often had he lied to her?
The thought of his having lied to her set the rage boiling in her again. All right, she said, with a fine feminine scorn, two can play the same game. She went about her chores with an intensity and energy that surprised her. When Bill came home that night, he would find the apartment spotless and a good meal cooked for him. With a grim smile she decided she would prepare stuffed peppers, one of his favorite meals. And she would apologize to him for the way she had been and she would be sweet and attentive to him and do whatever he wished. Anything, she told herself, anything he wants except ... sex. That, she wouldn't give him under any circumstances. She would be sweet and kind to him right up until the moment he left on Friday night. Then, then she would fix him.
Bill couldn't help heaving a big sigh of relief as he sat at his drafting board. Chuck Spanner had just breezed through and had come over and slapped Bill on the back. "Those plans were beautiful. Waytogo! Sure made me look good. How's it going?"
"Fine. And with you?" he had asked with just a trace of apprehension in his voice. "I'm beat. Had some weekend."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah and I'll be on the road this weekend too."
"Aw. Too bad."
"Yeah, but can't be helped. It's the nature of the beast. I'll take some time off later."
"You deserve it."
"Yeah and you deserve something for doing such a good job. Have a good weekend?" Bill almost coughed. "I had a ball."
"Waytogo!"
Bill lit a cigarette after Chuck had swaggered off with a slight trembling to his hand. After all, what would that bastard do if he knew? Still, he obviously didn't know anything and that was a relief.
The rest of the day went by pleasantly for him, the work going easily. He only saw Chuck once more before he went home and Chuck had waved and smiled as he went barreling down the hall.
The last thing he expected was a smiling Carol as he reluctantly let himself in his apartment. She came to him and put her arms around him and they kissed and made up and Bill told a lie on the spot that would explain the liquor on his breath. "Actually, I finished very early and had some time on my hands and I wanted to think. I thought about us and our future and what we going to do with our lives and the time just slipped by."
Carol accepted it all as the gospel with a steel-band smile and led him into his favorite dinner.
The week flew by for Bill and he mused on the many mental changes a man can go through in the short space of four days. Awhile ago, the world had seemed so dark and, in a twinkling, it all changed and all was rosy again. The further he got away from Anne Spanner in time, the less he thought of her. He found himself moralizing: she was depraved. No doubt about that. The things she talked about and wanted to do with him. Sex was for kicks with her and he wouldn't be a bit surprised if she took dope.
Still, there were moments when he relived the evening with her and felt that old surge and wild orgiastic freedom. Then his cock would bulge and he would find himself with a tight grin. Damn, he thought, so it was depraved? It was fun!
Yet, all was fine with Carol. Almost fine. She was a delight to be around, attentive, bright, witty. Only at night, when they got in bed, was she cold and aloof, always preceding any act he might make by giving herself an alibi. "I'm awfully tired." or "My stomach is just a little upset."
Then he would lie in the dark and grit his teeth with his penis rock-hard and flat up against his stomach and his whole body would ache as he thought of Anne Spanner and seeing her just once more and fucking the very life out of her and that friend. What was her name? Muriel! Conjuring her up in his mind, imagining what it would be like to have her and Anne at the same time, he would find his chest heaving, his fists clenched, and his body covered with a fine film of perspiration. It was at moments like this that he vowed he would see Anne Spanner once more.
During the day and in the evening when he was with Carol, he decided he would not see her again. Supposing he should be found out? She had said, "a party." So? Everyone there would be in the same boat. Still, someone might tell Chuck and then the shit would hit the fan. No, he reasoned, things are too good now to rock the boat. What the-hell, I had a good time and still have my wife. I got away with it. Why not let it go at that?
He had almost made up his mind not to go. By Thursday afternoon, he was reviewing ,the week and feeling thankful he was in such good shape. Sitting at his drafting table, working his slide rule, he told himself he would take Carol to the movies Friday night.
Then the phone rang.
Bill seldom got any outside calls, most of his rings being interdepartmental, so he answered the call casually. "Murcer," he sang into the phone.
"Hi, Murcer."
Bill froze then glanced around the large drafting room to see if anyone was near or listening. It was the voice of Anne Spanner. "You shouldn't call me here," he said in a low voice.
"Why not? " she asked, her voice merry and brazen.
"Somebody might catch wise."
"Come on."
"I mean it. The switchboard. The girl might recognize your voice."
"I disguised it," Anne's voice came into his ear in a mock-basso voice. "I said, gimme that Murcer kid."
"Really. I don't like this."
Anne's rich laughter came over the line. "Okay.
I just got out of the bath and was lying here thinking of you. Oh," her voice said and Bill's cock gave a jerk in his pants at the remembered way she moved when she said that word that way, "Oh," she said again, "How I wish you were here right now."
"Look...."
"Here," she said, her voice a low dark purr, "next to me and fucking me."
"Stop talking like that!"
"Fucking me and then I'd suck you. Ssssssssssuck." she kissed hotly over the line.
"Stop it, the operator might be listening in."
"She isn't. I wish she were. Maybe she'd come over to. You can hear an ether sound, a sort of buzzing when they listen in from a switchboard."
"Yeah," Bill gave a hopeless little laugh and crossed his legs against the rampant erection growing in his pants. The switchboard operator was cute and young. "But, I still don't like this."
"Okay, cold feet, I'll make it brief. It's ail set for tomorrow night. I told Muriel and, my dear," and her voice mocked a society matron, "she's just dying to get together with us." Then her voice changed. It was low and husky and intimate, the way it sounded when he lay on top of her and fucked while she whispered plans and desires in his ear. "Ever have two women go down on you at once ... Warm, wet, lipstick covered lips all over your cock?"
"N-nno," was all he could answer.
"Then," she said teasingly, "You've got something to look forward to. That and a lot more."
He took a deep breath. "Look, I don't think lean make it."
"Why not?"
"Well, there will be other people there and, you know, somebody might talk and ... I'd be in a lot of trouble."
"Silly, we all wear masks at things like this. The mask comes off later with the rest of the clothes. Hell, leave it on if you like. Be the Lone Ranger."
Despite himself, he couldn't help giggling. "Thanks, but ... "
"Don't 'but' me. Listen, you'll be there. Know why?"
"No."
"Because you're like me. We're two of a kind and you know if you show up, you're going to experience something you'll never forget. Now don't let me, and Muriel, down." There was a click and he sat with a dead phone in his hand and a raging in his groin.
CHAPTER 8
"Carol." She looked up from her plate and smiled at Bill. His face was set and serious.
"What, darling?"
"I've got to work Friday night."
Without a pause, she said, "All right. That's the way it sometimes goes."
"I was going to take you out to the movies." Bill was thankful he was telling at least one truth.
"We can go Saturday," she said, smiling.
"I hope you understand."
"Understand?" She looked at him wide-eyed.
"Yes. That I really do have to work."
She put her fork down and cocked her head, smiling ruefully at him. "Of course you do. Darling, please forgive me. I was so nasty to you."
"Well, it's just that I don't want you to mistrust me."
With a straight face and calm voice, she said, "I trust you."
"Good."
Friday, he was alive with an energy he hadn't ever known before. It was like the feeling and energy he had felt when he had had Anne Spanner under him and he knew she was helpless. Only, this energy was contained, pent-up, fuming. When he kissed Carol good-bye at the door, he could barely resist grabbing her and crushing her in his arms and falling on top of her and tearing at her clothes and fucking her right there in the doorway.
At work, he shot the switchboard operator a hot glance, trying to divine, in her smile, if she had listened in. Now, he didn't mind if she had. He'd like to fuck her too. She was a cute teen-age piece of ass and he could just see him and Anne Spanner teaching her a few things.
Chuck was his usual bubbling self, working at a breakneck speed and mentioning how he had to clear things up in time to catch the late afternoon plane.
Work over, Bill drove to a part of town where he didn't think he'd be known or recognized and ate a light dinner. Afterwards, he drove around, cruising, looking at the girls walking. He ended up sitting in a bowling alley bar, sipping a scotch, killing time by ogling the cocktail waitress in her miniskirt and all the cute young things who were out on the lanes bowling. God, he thought, there is just so much good pussy around to let it all go to waste.
He sat drinking, savoring the evening to come and feeling his excitement mounting to a white-hot intensity. Jesus, was he going to give it to both of them! He drank on, getting a little drunk and liking it, liking the reckless feeling it gave him which seemed to stroke the fires of his passion. He glanced at the clock. It was ten to eight. Time to get going.
Across town, Chuck Spanner was rearranging his face into a somber cast before ringing Carol Murcer's doorbell. Wouldn't want the little lady to guess what she was in for. Waytogo! he told himself.
He was all business with her, showing her the camera and outlining just how they would go about things. Finally, he looked at Anne and smiled. "Can I ask a favor?"
"Yes?"
"Can I have a drink? I mean, all this is a little unnerving."
"Of course."
"Will you join me?"
Carol hesitated then said, "Yes, it might help."
"Good. It will kill time for us. Don't want to get there before it's good and dark.
They had two drinks, Carol's limit, and then departed. Carol felt so furtive even getting into the car and was thankful for the drinks and hoped she had enough character and strength to get through the next few hours. If she had even a remote idea of what was in store for her, she would have died on the spot.
They drove to the house in silence with Chuck turning out the headlights and gliding slowly to the curb several houses away. They sat next to each other, looking at the house. Cars were parked out front and, Carol's face blushing and her anger rising, she recognized one of them as Bill's, theirs, car. She closed her eyes for a moment. All this time she had nourished a little thought in the back of her head. He wouldn't be there. She would not have to go through with the plans. There was something so sneaky about them. Now, it was too late. Their chevy sat at the curb.
"It looks quiet. Are you ready?" Chuck asked in a whisper. "Yes."
"Just follow me and stay close to the bushes."
Before she could think, they were out of the car and hurrying toward the house. Chuck led in the dark, sure of foot and holding out his hand as a guide as they worked their way around to a side door, stepping in the flowers and feeling the soft loam under their feet. He stopped before a dark door, fumbled for his key, stopped, and with a click, the door swung open and he stepped aside.
Anne hurried in and saw herself in a small room. A desk, file cabinets, rows of books, a typewriter and a TV set. Along one wall, a leather couch. Along another, a full-length mirror.
Chuck closed the door and strode to the inner door, carefully checking to see if it was locked. Satisfied, he walked noiselessly back to her over the thick rug and whispered, "Phase one. We've made it. We can relax while I try to figure out what's going on."
With a wink, he slid behind his desk and punched buttons on a plastic console, leaning toward a speaker. All of the buttons registered silence as he switched into different rooms and sections of the house. All save one. The romper room. They were met with a wall of murmuring and music. They listened, hearing the sound of glasses and ice and laughter. With a grunt, he switched the romper room off. "They're all down in there."
"What are we going to do?"
For an answer, he swung to the TV, turned a dial then flipped a switch. The set glowed then swelled to life. "Damn," he said.
"What is it?" Carol said, stepping closer. Just then a face, masked like at a ball, floated in front of the camera. It was a woman and she was smiling wickedly at someone or thing just out of camera range. Yet, it was hard to make out her features or what was around her, the lighting was so bad. "They got the lights down low. I didn't anticipate this." He turned the dial and they saw different parts of the romper room, all of it incomprehensible. All they could see was the dark outline of bodies dancing or, occasionally, a face whenever anyone came close to the camera. Chuck flicked off the set and sat rubbing his jaw. "This changes things."
"Why?" Carol asked, "I thought we'd wait until they went to a bedroom and then we'd go in."
"That's what's worrying me," he said, looking up at her with a wrinkled brow. "They might not go to a bedroom."
"You mean ... they might ... in front of all ... !"
"You don't know my wife."
Carol sunk down on the couch. "What are we going to do?"
He heaved himself up. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to have a drink. I can't think on a clear head." She went to a wall cabinet and swung it open, revealing a small bar. Pouring deftly, he came to her with two glasses.
Carol put her hand up. "Sorry, I don't want one."
"You'd better," he insisted, holding it out, "you'll need it when you hear what I've got in mind."
"What?" she snapped, immediately defensive and frightened.
"Go down there." He pushed the glass into her hand.
"What! No, I couldn't!"
"It's dark and they're all wearing masks. Be easy to find two around. We could slip in and nobody would know. You saw how dark it is. It would serve them right." He sipped at his drink.
Not really thinking, Carol followed his example. "What is this?"
"Pernod. A kind of Pernod. All I got in here and I don't want to risk prowling the house for something else."
"I've never had Pernod. It tastes funny."
"It's mild and will relax you."
They drank with Chuck persuading her to go to the romper room. Carol objected. "But, Bill would know me. He knows my clothes."
"That's easy. I'll get something of Anne's. She'll never notice. And it'll be dark." He sat next to her, the dark green bottle in his hand, constantly filling her glass as he talked. Carol didn't mind, it was mild and sweet and like an after dinner drink and, if it would relax her, so much the better. They talked on, with Carol demurring, her resistance melting as she felt a pleasant warm glow spread over her body. "It would serve them right!" Chuck kept saying and she found herself agreeing.
Details became hazy and she was conscious of Chuck slipping out the door and returning almost at once with two eye masks in his hand.
Grinning, she tried one of them on and she felt secret and wicked as the glow continued to build. She had never been drunk in her life and didn't consider herself drunk now. Yet, she had never felt this way. She was going to get even with Bill and it all seemed funny.
Adjusting his mask, Chuck peered down at her and said, "Come on, we'll get something for you to wear."
Walking swiftly through the house, Chuck whispered, "If we meet anyone, just smile and keep going." They made it to the master bedroom with Chuck first opening the door to make sure no one was there then stepping back. "Be quick. Something simple."
Carol felt like a criminal as she found herself alone in a strange bedroom, going through a closet, listening for any sound with Chuck on guard out in the hall. She giggled and lurched, wondering what was the matter with her. Was that stuff, that Pernod, affecting her? Quickly, she discovered a Mexican serape and slipped it on over her head, again losing her balance. Trying to hide her giggle, she careened to the door, opened it and fell against Chuck outside, his hands accidentally brushing against her breasts as he caught her. "Sorry," she said, blowing the hair from her eyes. "Don't know 'smatter with me."
"You'll be okay. Come on, let's go." He put his arm around her and they walked to the romper room door. She didn't mind him holding her close. The only jar to her pleasant feeling came when he opened the door and she remembered that Bill, her husband, was in that dark cellar.
They felt their way down the dark steps with Chuck Spanner whispering, "Stick with me. I'll do all the talking. Just do whatever I do."
They were in the room proper with Chuck holding her tightly by the waist. It was crowded with swaying dancing bodies and more bodies strewn on the couches and on large pillows that were flung on the floor. Rock music was blasting out of speakers and people were shouting and screeching and laughing. There was a heavy pungent odor in the air; a sickly sweet smell, something like rope burning. Carol thought it was incense.
Chuck selected some pillows on the floor near one corner and they sat next to each other with Carol peering around, trying to find Bill. "Let your eyes get accustomed to the dark," Chuck whispered.
"What's going on?" she whispered back, excitement and just a touch of fear in her voice.
"Nothing yet that I can see. Everybody's getting boozed up and turned on. Take it easy. Things will happen later."
A masked woman came to them, a strange cigarette in her hand. She stooped, somewhat unevenly, and offered the cigarette to Carol. "Here," she slurred. "I saw you come in. Turn on," she said, her smile slack and somewhat absentminded.
"Take it," Chuck whispered then, louder, to the girl, he said, "Thanks."
The girl swiped at her hair and stood up. "My pleasure. It's real funky stuff." She stood a minute as if trying to remember something then wandered away.
"What is this?" Carol asked, holding it like it was a bomb.
"Pot. Damn, I didn't know she'd have this in my own house. We gotta smoke it. Too many people watching."
"I can't do a thing like that," Carol hissed into his ear, shoving the cigarette at him.
"You have to. I smoked it in Vietnam. Hell, everybody does. It won't hurt you. Try it. Try it!" he said, his voice hard and demanding, "Or pretty soon everybody is going to wonder about the couple in the corner who don't smoke pot and then we'll get noticed and then where will we be?"
Reluctantly, Carol inhaled some of the pungent smoke and choked and passed the cigarette to Chuck. "Watch me," Chuck said and she watched as he inhaled the smoke with a heavy sucking sound then passed the cigarette back to her. She took it and imitated him, holding her breath.
They seemed to sit forever, time standing still, as they passed the ever burning cigarette back and forth. Finally, it was done and Carol leaned back on the pillows, feeling lightheaded and glowing. She blinked. How long had they been there? Time seemed to stand still and the music, even though it was loud, sounded better and seemed to go on and on. She found herself smiling as she tried to think of why they were there in masks. The fact that she couldn't remember struck her as very funny. Bill!
He walked by, lurching slightly, near her feet. He hadn't seen her, hadn't even looked down. Despite his mask, she'd recognize his body and walk anywhere. He walked to the bar and took a cigarette out of the mouth of a stacked redhead in a scarlet mask. No mistaking her either: the one and only Anne Spanner. Carol watched as she saw her husband put his arms around her and kiss her greedily on the mouth. Another woman, laughing, masked, put her arms around the two of them and hugged them. Bill broke free to drag deeply on the marijuana cigarette and ask, "Damn, this is wild stuff. What did you call it?"
"Acapulco gold, baby," Anne answered.
Bill looked around the room dreamily. Damn, he thought, what a night this was going to be. He was flying and feeling like he could fuck all night. "Hey," he said, "Who's that cute chick over in the corner? I didn't see her come in."
"A friend," Anne said, exchanging an amused smile with Muriel behind Bill's back.
"Say, she's looking at me. I'd like to meet that with nothing under that serape," he leered, his confidence inspired to greater heights by the burning pot.
"You will, later," Anne said while Muriel stifled a laugh. "I promise, that after the others, you can have all the sloppy sevenths or eighths you want!"
"Right," he said, swinging around. He was drunk and stoned out of his mind. "After we all get through with our little date. Come on, let's cut out."
"Can't yet, honey," Anne said soothingly. "Not until after the movies. Club rule."
"The hell with the movies and the rule. We'll make our own movie."
Anne snuggled up against him in a suggestive way. "Ever wanted to make a movie?" she asked, a smutty smile on her face.
"Why not!" Bill said. Hell, he was ready for anything. He was never going to do anything like this again and he was going to enjoy it right up to the hilt.
"Later. Be a good boy and watch. The movies will only make it better later."
"Okay," he said with a wave of the hand and sitting on a barstool and gazing, with glazed eyes at the girl in the serape across the room. She was still looking at him. Goddamn, he thought, I attract them like flies to honey. Something strange about that girl. Just as he had an inkling of what that 'strangeness might be, the lights went out, the music turned off and everyone present turned to one wall as expectant voices murmured low.
Carol, in the dark, roused herself. It seemed so difficult to concentrate on anything but the growing feeling of euphoria that made her body tingle all over. She groped toward where she thought Chuck was and felt his strong hand squeeze hers. "What's going to happen? What are they going to do now?"
"Keep your voice down. I think they're going to show some movies," he whispered, lying, knowing exactly what was going on.
"Movies? What kind of movies?"
"Stag movies."
In the dark, Carol passed her hand over her face. A voice deep in her told her she had to get out of this room. Yet, she seemed powerless to move. She felt so good and it was nice having her thoughts scattered and vague. A little moan, half of wicked delight, half of anxiety, escaped from her lips.
A cone of light stabbed through the darkness and a unified "AH!" came from the group in the romper room as they settled down to watch the illuminated screen on one wall with the cigarette smoke drifting and mingling with the heavy pungent marijuana smoke.
A black and white film began. A room, seeming to be a hotel or motel room somewhere, distinguished by its sameness and Carol found herself staring at it with an idiot kind of fascination. Then, two figures in front of the camera. Carol tried to focus her eyes to see who they were and what they were doing. She jumped, tensing, when she saw bare flesh. They were undressing! A man and a woman!
The girl was young and a brunette and her figure was good if not spectacular. A silly thought: I have a better figure than that.
The camera was low, taking in the man's body from the waist down and the girl, naked, her breasts jiggling, knelt in front of him and helped him take his pants off. There was a seriously, preoccupied expression on her face with her mouth slightly open and her lips wet. Impatiently, she reached into his underwear, fumbled, and pulled out his cock.
Carol gasped as she watched the girl play with the semierect penis, stroking it then rubbing it all over her face with an expression of bliss then opening her mouth and sucking rhythmically on the head.
Carol struggled up. "I've got to get out of here!" she whispered, her voice trembling.
She was amazed and frightened by Chuck's response and brute strength. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he pushed her down and growled in her ear. "Oh-no-you-don't! Stay! You get up now and you blow the whole thing! You don't want to watch, close your eyes!" And with that, he shoved her further down on the pillows, her body in an uncomfortable position with the silk crotchband of her panties stretched and pressing up tight against the lips of her vagina. She squirmed to get into a more comfortable position but only made her position worse. The tingling feeling, the euphoria she was feeling now seemed to center between her legs and, even though she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to will the feeling away, it only mounted in intensity.
Despite herself, she opened one eye to see what was going on in the movie. The camera had moved in closer now and the man's cock had ballooned to twice its former size and the girl was sucking on it with her eyes closed and the man was beginning to move his hips in the most lascivious way, pumping in and out just as though her mouth were her vagina. Carol thought she had never seen anything so obscene and animal-like in her life. That wasn't love, it was sheer animalistic sex! She watched in fascinated revulsion, feeling a moist, unwanted tingle growing in her own cunt as one big hand came down, a tattoo on the back of the hand, and the fingers tangled in the girl's hair and held her head in place as the big cock slid wetly in and out of her mouth in long sure strokes.
Carol had to move. The tightness of her panties pressing up between her legs was driving her mad; to her drugged and drunken horror, she felt old depraved feelings of lust growing in her own body. She had to, in some way, relieve the pressure on the lips of her vagina. She squirmed and Chuck seized her again, muttering, "Be still!"
Her tiny, adjusting writhings only made the crotch band press harder. It was pressing all the way up in the crevice of her buttocks now, teasing her anus and deeply imbedded in her vaginal slit, pressing maddeningly against her clitoris which was now moist and involuntarily swelling. Perspiration was standing out on her forehead. God, she thought, I never knew it could feel so good.
Her glazed eyes were now staring unblinking at the screen, watching, as the camera began panning down, pulling back. The man was now lying on the bed, his legs straddling a corner and the girl was still sucking, holding his prick with one hand as her other hand caressed her breasts, hungrily pinching the nipples.
"Look at that!" Chuck said hoarsely and as though it were the most natural thing in the world slipped one hand under the serape onto her breast.
Carol started to push his hand away but paused, distracted, watching, half in horror, half in a driving guilty lust that made her body squirm in rising excitement as the girl's hand trailed down, on down, down to mingle in her soft dark pubic hair. Then, as Carol found herself panting and her hips squirming, the girl shifted, parting her thighs, her hand moving to her cunt and the fingers spread the moist, thin vaginal lips open and her forefinger began stroking up and down the length of her completely exposed cunt.
Carol's head was swimming and she wasn't even conscious that she was making a little sighing-moaning sound as the camera pulled back and showed the girl now finger fucking herself in and out of her open cunt as she sucked rhythmically on the throbbing male cock, the man raised now on his elbows to watch her with wide, leering eyes. God, it was all so wicked, so wicked and yet, against her will, so goooooood, she thought. She licked her lips. Her mouth was dry and caked and she was making small mewling sounds while her hips were unconsciously twisting around under the serape. What was happening? Was he, Bill's boss, touching her under the serape? Oh God, what was he doing? filtered through her absinthe, pot drugged mind.
Helplessly, her thoughts faded and her head fell back against the base of the couch near them and in spite of her proud young morals, her awakening body reveled in the wild lewd pleasure writhing like a tiny, teasing flame through her genitals. She watched the screen breathlessly as the girl suddenly stopped sucking the man's hardened cock and crawled on top of him, her thighs straddling his hips as they kissed, with her smoothly rounded little buttocks grinding into his groin.
"She's going to fuck him now," a voice whispered. Carol didn't know who it was and didn't care. An electric syrup seemed to flow through her body when she heard the lewdly arousing word, "Fuck."
She tried to get hold of herself. Something was going on. Hands seemed to be everywhere, teasingly caressing her involuntarily moving body. Feebly, her eyes still locked on the obscene action on the screen, she tried to push them away. "Fuck," the voice said again and she felt goose bumps rise on her flesh. "I'm going to fuck you," the distant, yet close, voice said and she almost swooned as her body twisted with strange, forbidden pleasure and all she could do was moan helplessly.
Bill, at the bar, had his hand up underneath Anne Spanner's dress and was massaging her smooth naked buttocks, his eyes darting from the screen to the new couple on the floor near the wall. Damn, he thought, that guy's feeling her up under that serape. His cock swelled bigger as he saw her dress worked smoothly out from under the serape and flung aside. It was too dark to see details, but others were helping the guy and the chick in the mask was out of it. Jesus, he thought, is she ever a hot assed little number!
His own passion and expectation mounting, Bill teased his tongue in Anne's ear, wrapped an arm around Muriel Abrams, who snuggled close and placed a hand on his inner thigh. "Let's go!" he said. "I can't take much more of this stuff! I want the real thing!"
Anne pressed up against him, her hand mingling with Muriel's as they groped for his cock under his pants. "Okay, let's go play hide the weeney."
They hurried, stumbling through the darkness and up the stairs. They careened down the hall with Bill shedding his coat and tie and mask before they ever got to the master bedroom. In the room, he tore at his clothes like a madman, flinging them everywhere, not caring as he watched the two women taking their clothes off. Muriel, older, still had a good figure with big breasts that jiggled enticingly as she stripped, her glittering eyes locked hungrily on Anne Spanner's naked body.
Muriel ignored Bill for the moment, stepping close and helping Anne out of her bra and panties then running her hands all over her curvaceous body before kissing her full on the mouth. Bill watched, his mouth open in awe as the two women cupped each other by the buttocks then leaned back, thrusting their hips forward and grinding the soft curls of their pussy hair hotly together.
Muriel, shorter, darker, her head thrown back, her mouth open, moaned, "Oh, baby!" and broke free to fall heavily to her knees and seize Anne's warm rounded buttocks in her arms and bury her face between her slightly parted thighs. A shudder of pure lascivious pleasure went through Anne's body as the older woman's probing tongue licked hungrily into her cunt.
With a roar, Bill charged, knocking Muriel to the floor and Anne backwards onto the bed where he crashed on top of her. Anne threw her legs wide apart and he could feel the head of his cock slipping and sliding along her desire moistened pussy as the other woman scrambled up on the bed next to him and lay on her stomach, her head burrowing to get at one of Anne's sumptuous breasts. "Fuck her, Bill," Muriel panted, "Fuck her and I'll help you do it good!"
Bill went wild, plowing into her hot wet cunt that Anne was contracting and clenching wildly as Muriel cupped her breast in her hands and sucked on the nipple as Bill watched. With one hand, he reached down and back and his fingers slid between Muriel's buttocks and brazenly probed for her anus. Muriel responded by splitting her legs wide and gyrating her hips. His finger popped through the rubbery softness and Muriel gave a short, muffled cry of pain as his finger ground deep into her anus.
With a roar, Bill broke free from his passionate embrace and flipped Muriel Abrams over with a strength that surprised even him. She rolled over and sprawled, lewd, legs flung wide apart and he fell on her and felt, with a lewd thrill, his cock sink into yet another greedily swallowing cunt.
Anne crawled to her hands and knees behind Bill and he roared, bellowed with excitement and almost shot his cum up into her right then and there as he felt Anne's thick red hair tickling his buttocks and felt her face and then, as his body shook and he pumped with all his strength, fucked Muriel with a wild abandon, felt, thrilled, couldn't believe it was real, yet felt Anne's wet tongue tracing its lewd way between the cheeks of his buttocks, trailing on down to where it flicked over his puckered anus and he moaned and shuddered to keep from cumming and reared back, knocking Anne away and pulling out of Muriel.
Muriel was like a tiger, fighting to reach his cock, her mouth open.
"Wait!"
They looked at Anne who smiled and held up a hand. "We want to play awhile before we cum all over each other. I've got an idea." She got up off the bed and ran to the TV, her breasts swinging, her buttocks like jelly. She flicked the set on. She ran back to the bed and lay down on her back, her head to the screen. "Now, Muriel, get on top. Bill, fuck us both." Her mouth twisted lewdly. "Face the screen and fuck us with everything you have and you and Muriel can watch what's going on."
Bill watched in a kind of obscene stupor as Muriel crawled on top of Anne and slowly lowered her body until their breasts were just touching. With a rhythmic swaying motion they rubbed the nipples of their breasts together and Anne slid her legs open and Bill looked down to see the swollen lips of her vagina and saw her fingers slip under her buttocks and spread wide their hair-lined softness so that he could see her tiny pulsating clitoris and the smooth pink walls of her cunt as Muriel lowered her hips and ground her pubic hair against Anne's hotly jerking clitoris.
Muriel put all her weight on Anne and their open mouths locked together and Bill watched as their hips ground and undulated together like some thick, warmly clinging liquid. Slowly, Muriel was splitting her legs wide so, as Bill groaned, he could see their two cunts wet and open with Anne's fingers probing upward, spreading the lips of Muriel's cunt teasingly apart right before his eyes.
The room was heavy with the scent and smell of sex now as the two women writhed nakedly before his eyes, their cunts wet and glistening now. His eyes flicked to the television screen. There was plenty of activity in the romper room now and the girl with the serape was sprawled out on the soft, furry rug. The set was a little out of focus, but he could see the serape bunched uselessly up around her waist and her cunt was open and naked and a man was bending over her.
Bill got on his knees between the legs of the two women and slowly sunk his cock into the older of the two women who moaned and screamed and writhed. A wild freedom came over him and he fucked with a wild abandon, his head thrown back, an animal growl coming out of his throat as he pulled out of Muriel who contracted her buttocks to keep his cock in her and, dipping lower, sunk his ramrod prick into the soft, warmly clinging flash of his boss's wife's hotly writhing cunt. This, he thought, is a real orgy! He turned his fogged eyes to the screen to watch as he fucked the two women with all his might, their sweating bodies writhing in orgiastic unison.
Carol was now desperately pleading. On the movie screen the couple were wildly fucking now. The girl was lying so that her head was hanging back over the edge of the bed and the man was on top of her, his cock grinding deep around in her cunt, his arms locked around her rib cage, arching her back as he rammed his cock home with an increasing tempo. And Carol, in her drugged stupor, was pleading. Chuck Spanner was over her and to one side and she was naked under the serape. "Would you like that?" his voice asked. "Like to get fucked like that?"
And she was trying to shake her head and plead. "Please, please, please," she was saying over and over again in a little breathy voice.
Now, other hands were seizing her wrists and pinning her arms back up behind her head, making her breasts jut out and Chuck's rough hands were under her serape and his fingers hooked in her bra and, with a brutal jerk, the bra snapped and gave and her breasts leaped free and his hands massaged them and pinched her nipples, sending hot wires of pain through her body. "Nnno," she pleaded, wincing, feeling the pain grow deep and mingling with the hot churning pleasure deep in her groin.
"Fuck," Chuck said again. "Say it! You want to!"
Carol's lips twisted and her lower teeth went against her trembling upper lip to form the word but she couldn't. "P-pplease," she moaned.
It was insane, being stripped of her clothes and having people hold her by her arms while her own husband's boss brutally pinched and kneaded at her breasts under the serape. All this was happening to her and she couldn't take her eyes from the screen. The man had turned the girl over so she was lying on her stomach now, her head still hanging over the edge of the bed and Carol watched, incredulous, as the girl stuck her buttocks up lewd and inviting and the man, on his knees, held her by the hips and sunk his cock into her cunt from behind. They began bucking and writhing madly with the girl's face a lust-contorted mask of pleasure and depravity.
Carol closed her eyes and moaned aloud as she felt Chuck's hand slide down her silky smooth belly and over her jutting cuntal mound and felt his finger tease against her clitoris.
To her amazement and despair, she felt herself wet and, despite the fact that she had her legs locked tight together, the lips of her vagina were swollen wide and the older man had no trouble running his finger up and down her moistly aroused slit and it thrilled her, it thrilled her beyond anything she could imagine!
"P-pplease," she begged, "P-please," she stammered, feeling herself losing all control. Where was she? Who was doing obscene things to her? Who was holding her? Her head thrashed back and forth and she tried, with all her might, to know what was happening, "Pplease," she repeated, "Please ... f-f-fuck! Fuck!" she moaned, her whole body feeling hot and liquid as she heard her husband's boss's triumphant laugh above her.
"Okay, baby, that's the way I like it! Waytogo!"
She opened her eyes wild and wide as some one lifted the serape up around her neck and she lay naked and sweating. Faces, bodies, were squirming all around her and Chuck Spanner was taking off his clothes. She couldn't see the screen anymore because of the bodies. "Fuck me! Fuck me like in the movie! Fuck me, please fuck me!" Carol was amazed that the harsh demanding voice was her own! Nothing mattered except to rid herself of this lewd mounting feeling and to get fucked like that young girl on the screen.
Chuck was over her and she looked down to see what he was holding in his hand, her head straining. "N-NO!" she screamed. That couldn't possibly be his cock! Nothing human could be that big! It was at least nine inches long and close to two inches thick! She looked, shaking her head as she saw the head glistening with cum from the gland on the end.
She struggled, speechless from fear. Chuck had a cruel smile on his lips as he knelt over her and she heard people laughing lewdly all around her and felt their hands on her body and felt fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs and calves and pulling her legs wide apart.
"Fuck the little bitch shitless, Chuck!"
"He'll do that. Just hope he saves a little for me."
"Say!" a female voice asked, "What's the matter with me?"
"Plenty for you baby."
"All right," Chuck's voice growled, "One at a time. Get those hands off and hold her. I'm going to plow all the way up to those hot little tits of hers! Her husband'll fall in after I'm through stretching it!"
Carol screamed and for a moment, all became hideously clear. She had been tricked, she was being raped, she was being raped by her own husband's boss. She threw back her head and screamed as Chuck Spanner rubbed the huge thick head of his cock over her wet, defensively clenching vaginal slit. "NO! PLEASE! I'LL DO ANYTHING! PLEASE!"
For an answer, Chuck gave a harsh laugh. "That's what I like. Beg a little more. You'll do anything?"
"YES, OH, YES, ANYTHING! ANYTHINNNNNNNNNG!" Carol shouted.
Chuck, savoring her helplessness as she lay under him spread-eagle, said, "Hey, you really mean it. Anything. How about this?" And, with that, he jerked his hips forward and his huge cock stretched the lips of her cunt until they went white, all the blood forced out of them, and Carol screamed and thought she would pass out from the pain that engulfed her body. "And this!" he grunted, flicking the swollen shaft a little deeper and Carol felt lightheaded and giddy and the strength was leaving her body and she could do nothing but scream, her mouth flung open as her head thrashed back and forth.
"Go on and fuck her, Chuck," a woman's voice said, low and excited, "Fuck her like you did me. I want to see the snooty little bitch really get it!"
The figures crowded closer, talking, their voices low as Chuck, conscious all were watching and waiting, said, "All right, let go of her, here it goes." And he exploded into action, his thick strong body hunched over her as he thrust heavily forward up between Carol's wide-stretched legs and began fucking in and out of her tight young cunt with a wild brutality.
As the great cock sank into her and split her wide, skewering her, banging cruelly against her cervix to draw back for another mad rush deep inside of her, Carol thought she was going to lose her mind and that she would be literally split in two, ruined for life and she wailed and thrashed her naked body helplessly under him, the pain mounting, becoming so great she felt she would be crippled for life, going so deep she felt-she would never forget it. The pain sponged into her very fibers as Chuck Spanner's cock plowed deep, forcing her legs wider apart then it pulled out until just the brutal head remained plunged in her, the lips of her cunt stretched tight around the head and being folded out, overlapping, by its almost inhuman thickness. Then, with a maniacal fury, it plunged home, folding the tight lips inward, rolling her pubic hair down against the walls of her cunt. The pain became smoky, murky, mingling with the lewd, dormant pleasure that began to rise again. It seemed to feed on the pain, growing stronger and more intense, sending bolts of lewd, lascivious pleasure through her body, pleasure so sweet and intense, she never imagined such a thing could be. Then, magically, the pain became all pleasure! She was suddenly ecstatic and murmuring and her body was beginning to writhe in time to his brutal fucking between her widespread legs.
"Look!" a woman breathed next to her, naked and crouching to see the lust-hardened cock ramming in and out of her, "The little snob's loving it!"
Upstairs, in the master bedroom, Bill was sprawled on his back, his head propped on a pillow, his mouth hanging open from fatigue, his eyes half closed as he watched Muriel Abrams and Anne Spanner crouched on either side of him, their hands fondling each other's breasts while Anne with one hand, held his cock erect as the two of them bent and licked and sucked lovingly on it, nursing it back to an aching life. Jesus, he thought, this is going to go on all night!
Lazily, he shifted his eyes to the screen which he could see over Anne's lovely fanning buttocks. Christ, he thought, it sounds like world war three down there. Somebody is getting fucked to death. He lay back, feeling the pleasure of the two women vying to suck his cock. Goddamn, Anne Spanner really delivered. This was great.
Idly, he looked at the screen and watched as couples broke away from the ring on the floor, excited, finding their way to bedrooms to fuck. Let them come here, he thought, the more the merrier.
He could see the couple they were all watching. Christ, he thought, they're going to kill each other. Look at them fuck! The girl's face was hidden from view but her body wasn't. It was covered, glistening with sweat and she was writhing, fucking, like her life depended on it. He had never seen anyone fuck like that. He had to get some of that action. And the guy, he was like a madman.
Then, something made Bill prop himself up on one arm. He looked closely then the guy flung his head back as he lifted the girl's writhing buttocks clear off the floor and then slammed her down again. Christ, he thought, that's wild. Then his body tensed as he saw the man's face.
Both the women felt him tense and looked up at him. He was pointing to the screen, his eyes wide. "That's him. Him! That's Chuck!" He looked at Anne. "That's your husband!"
Anne and Muriel exchanged a lewd grin over his cock. "Yeah, so what?"
"So what!" Bill pushed them away and scrambled to his feet and looked around for his clothes. "You said he was out of town, that's what! I saw him go!"
Anne and Muriel were still lying naked on the bed, grinning at each other and then the screen. "Relax, everything is all right."
"All right?" he asked, astounded. "Not with me, I'm getting out of here!"
"Relax," Anne said, getting up lazily, her hand absently stroking Muriel's thigh. "Come on, let's have some more fun. Don't worry, you've paid your dues."
Bill was on the floor, gathering up his clothing. "Paid my what? Paid my dues? What the hell are you talking about?" He paused and looked at the two women on the bed. They were stroking each other's bodies and grinning, exchanging some kind of obscene unsaid joke.
Slowly, his eyes swung to the screen. His boss and the young, wildly excited woman was still fucking at an inhuman rate. Nobody could keep that up for long. He crawled across the floor toward the screen, forgetting his clothes. That lovely writhing undulating body under Chuck! He watched and, as he watched, saw Carol's, his wife's, lust contorted face, teeth gritting, thrash into view.
With a bellow of rage, he was on his feet and running from the room, sprinting naked down the hall with the two women following as fast as they could. In his rage, he forgot where the romper room was as he rushed, bellowing and crashing into things and falling before he found the door to the romper room and flung it open and plunged down the dark stairs with the women right behind him shouting a warning.
He was tackled by two men before he could get halfway across the room and he struggled with all his might, flinging bodies away as more piled on. He was almost incoherent as he bellowed, "That's my, it's my, my wife, damn you all!"
All his fighting was in vain, there were too many of them and he found himself pinioned by arms, helpless to do anything but watch as Carol and Chuck Spanner fucked wildly away, oblivious to all the noise and struggle, Carol with a blissful little smile on her lips as she let Chuck batter his hardened cock deep into her naked body and she felt an orgasm mounting. Bill watched, his arms pinned, tears of rage and frustration in his eyes.
Anne Spanner, a smile on her lips, making her look like a lewd wild witch, put her lips next to his ear and he felt her hands on his cock. "Watch," she whispered, "watch your wife get fucked. She's loving it!"
He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head helplessly away. Anne had his cock between the palms of her hands and was rolling it around. Her wet tongue licked into his ear. "Watch," she hissed, "Oh, that is beautiful, she's loving it. Look how tight her little cunt lips are around my husband's cock, look how much she wants it. Look, she's going to cum!"
Despite himself, he opened his eyes and looked and felt his cock growing hard under her expert ministrations. A feeling came over him, a feeling so lewd and depraved and licentious! A feeling of complete depravity and freedom such as he had never felt before! He watched his wife writhing and bucking and grinding her hips up to get more of Chuck Spanner's cock and felt himself excited as he never had been before!
And, as he watched, Muriel dropped to her knees in front of him and sucked hard on his cock and Chuck, on the floor, grunted and looked up and grinned. Taking Carol's lovely small body in his arms, he started rolling them over, his cock buried deep. Carol, panting, went with him until she was on top of him, on her knees, her buttocks split wide and the sight of her tiny puckered anus exposed nakedly to everyone in the room.
A man started forward, his erect cock in his hand. "No!" Anne Spanner called. "Let Bill fuck her there!" Without a word the man stopped and everyone looked at Bill. He felt the strong restraining arms falling away and Muriel stopped sucking and sank to the floor, grinning up at him.
Bill moved like an animal. He knew what to do, he knew what everyone wanted him to do and he knew what he wanted to do and, more, he knew what Carol wanted him to do as her firm, rounded young buttocks stroked hungrily up and down on Chuck's thick shaft! He was on his knees, behind her, his cock in his hand as he stroked the head of it on her tiny tight anus.
Carol stopped all movement and was still, waiting. He put the head on her anus and Carol caught it with the crevice of her buttocks, displaying amazing muscular control. His hands gripped her hips and his nails dug in. They were still, frozen in a tableau. There was silence in the room until Carol, breathing hard, her voice hoarse, whispered, "Do it, fuck me in the ass! FUCK ME!" and she screwed her buttocks up against the head of his cock. "HURT ME!"
With a low growl, Bill leaned his weight and felt her tiny, hairless little anus slowly giving way. For a split second, nothing seemed to happen then, with an almost slight farting sound, the head of his cock popped past the tight elastic ring of her anal opening and Carol, mouth wide, eyes bugging, screamed and her arms flew out and she tried to reach behind her. Bill seized her wrists and held her in place. The helplessness of her position thrilled him in a sadistic way and he used her arms as a lever to force her head down and her buttocks up higher. Her tight, defensively clenched anal muscles squeezed so tight around his slightly buried cockhead he thought he couldn't bear the pain. Gripping her wrists tighter and forcing her arms up her back, he gritted his teeth and ground his cock a little deeper, hearing her scream and plead but feeling a wild insane joy at so humiliating his wife, sodomizing her like a whore in front of so many perfect strangers. She would never deny him anything again. Never! Anything he wanted from her hot little body was his from now on!
A victorious laugh escaped his tensed lips and he sunk his cock deeper into her expanded and tortured anus, feeling Chuck Spanner's hardened cock separated from his by only a thin membrane of flesh. Wildly, not really hearing or caring about her screams, he began fucking crazily in and out of her rectum as he felt Chuck plunging deep into her cunt and she was battered back and forth, helpless, moaning, screaming, pleading as he forced her helplessly squirming buttocks down and felt the exhilaration of sinking his cock all the way in her anus as he fucked with his head thrown back, fucked with a wild abandon and felt her mewing as sweat flew from her body as she was tossed and thrown about and, with a roar, he felt Chuck cumming, spewing hot sperm into her cunt then, with a wail, felt her body tense with superhuman strength as she came and kept coming as he fucked as hard as he could into her tight now hungrily milking asshole and felt himself cumming, filling Carol's bowels almost to the bursting point, his eyes rolling back in his head. Never had he felt such a joyful lewd orgasm as he fell away and crashed, in seeming slow motion, to the floor, and later, raised bleary eyes to see writhing bodies, naked and sweating all over the romper room. Another strange, naked body grinding away hotly between his young wife's widespread and welcoming legs.
CHAPTER 9
It was late Saturday morning. The sun was streaming in the bedroom window and a new and different Carol Murcer was lying on the bed, wearing only a housecoat. From the bathroom came the sound of a shower pounding. Carol rolled over and sipped from the bloody mary Bill had brought her and gave a little groan. "Hair of the dog," she murmured then lay back with a smile, admiring their new home they were able to afford since Bill had been promoted.
In the last six months, their life had changed so much she scarcely recognized herself. Her face was slightly more mature now, with little lines around the mouth and morning after, circles beginning under the eyes. It was a hard life now, with a constant stream of parties and friends over for " a little fun." The hours were late and the drinking fast and furious and it seemed that everybody they knew smoked pot and hashish.
She couldn't remember the last night that had gone by when she hadn't had sex. Sometimes, it was as many as four different men a night. Sometimes, she felt she couldn't be satisfied. Chuck had got her and Bill to perform in a stag film and that had been a kick. Muriel was becoming more of a dyke by the week and had propositioned her and she was beginning to think she might try it. Bill said he wanted to watch. And Anne, wild Anne, wanted her to go out, just the two of them, to some cheap bar and pick up a couple of truck drivers or stevedores, just for the kick. And it was beginning to seem like a good idea.
Yet, on mornings like this, hung over, Carol was beginning to wonder. It all seemed so desperate; each time a new kick or thrill was needed to get any satisfaction. It all seemed like they were heading headlong toward some terrible disaster and, at times, a cold shudder would rack her body.
Yet, they were living well, had a new home and car and plenty of swinging friends. Then, the phone rang, interrupting her thoughts as Bill was coming out of the shower, toweling himself. She grinned at him, knowing the game they played whenever she answered the phone. "Hello? Hi, Chuck!" she said as she grinned up at Bill who came over and sat on the bed and ran his hand up under her housecoat. "What? Oh, yeah? Our turn? I don't know. Of course we'll try."
She grinned lewdly and spread her legs slightly as Bill's fingers played with her vagina. The game was: not to let the caller know what was going on. "What? Oh, honey," she breathed as his forefinger slid in and she felt an excitement and moistness mount. She spread her legs a little more and her lips began a little pumping motion. "What? Oh, nothing, nothing at all." She looked at Bill and bit her lips against a giggle. "Okay, I'll tell Bill and I'm ssure hhe'll ccome up with ssomething. What? Nothing! Chuck, would I l-lie to you?" She giggled and hung up as Bill opened the folds of her gown and she lay naked from the waist down.
"What did he want?" he asked as he went on playing with her open pussy.
"He says its our turn to bring some people into the club?"
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Oh, baby."
"Got any ideas?"
"Plenty."
"So have I." He stood up. "Let's get undressed and discuss them."
