Standing at the kitchen sink in the small duplex she shared with her husband, Roger, Diane Slater stared gloomily out through the window at the cold, rolling fog which had come in over San Francisco's Richmond District from the ocean. Damn, but she hated the fog! It made everything so dark and cheerless, so lonely.
She finished washing the last of the breakfast dishes and put them in the rack to drip dry. Then she emptied the dishpan and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. In the living room, she fluffed the couch cushions and straightened the magazines on the coffee table and emptied the ashtrays--every day, prosaic chores, fraught with dullness.
She wished it were tomorrow, Saturday, and Roger were home. At least they could get out then, go for a ride down the coast to Monterey or across the Golden Gate Bridge into Marin County, anywhere just so long as they got out of The City for a few hours. But it wasn't Saturday, and Roger wasn't home. Roger was making neat columns of figures in his ledger books, or whatever it was Chief Accountants at Waller, Waller, Crist, and Maxwell did during, working hours.
Diane sat down in the big overstuffed armchair. It was cold in the front room, and she had gotten a small chill. Well, it was always cold in there. She'd asked Mr. Comstock, the landlord, to have the wall furnace checked for malfunction, and he had said he would see to it; but that had been two weeks ago, and no one had come around yet.
I don't know why we can't afford a better place than this, she thought. Roger makes good money, almost a thousand dollars a month, and we live like we're in the throes of poverty. Well, I'm tired of it. We've been married for two years now, and we have almost eleven thousand dollars saved. That ought to be enough for that split-level in San Bruno that Roger is always talking about buying, shouldn't it? At least for the down payment, and for new furniture and appliances and things like that?
But every time she broached the subject to him, he put her off. "We still don't have enough money saved," he told her. "I don't want to owe anybody anything when we make the move, Diane. I want to be free and clear and independent; I want to own everything outright. That's real security."
Well, that was fine. But wasn't she entitled to some security now? She didn't even have transportation--Roger took their four-year old Plymouth to work every day--and if she wanted to go downtown shopping she had to walk half a mile to a bus line and then transfer twice. What kind of life was that for a healthy young woman? All she had to do all day was sit in this duplex apartment and watch television or read, waiting for Roger to come home and offer her a few kind words and some companionship.
Diane stood up and went into the bedroom and began to make the large double bed. Was she being unfair? Was she being too demanding? No, she didn't think so. She only wanted what other young married couples had--while she was still young enough to fully enjoy them.
No, if anybody was too demanding it was Roger. Physically demanding. She shuddered involuntarily as she tucked the bottom section of the sheet under the mattress. It seemed to her sometimes that that was the only reason Roger married her in the first place: for her body. All he ever thought about was sex. He wanted to make love almost every night, and then in all kinds of perverted positions and ways. He had even tried to make her kiss him ... there, on that monstrous penis of his...
Diane shuddered again. The thought of Roger's huge, purplish, rock-hard member, tearing into her defenseless vagina, made her tremble with fright. He was like an animal at times, saying lewd things to her in bed, saying foul words that rang like the bell of doom in her ears and brought tears to her eyes. Didn't he know how to be gentle, to be patient? She had been a virgin when she married him, he had known that better than anyone. She had told him about her strict religious upbringing, about how the word sex had never been mentioned in her household, told him frankly about that because she wanted to be a good, passionate wife to him. All she had asked was that he be patient with her, give her time to develop her sexual desires, to throw off the inhibitions her environment had subconsciously built within her. He had promised that he would.
And then he had all but raped her on their wedding night.
God, what a travesty that had been! She remembered it clearly, the shy way she had come to his arms in the little honeymoon cottage in Carmel, trembling with fear and--yes, with expectation, too--only to be violated unmercifully by that gigantic monster between his legs...
She simply did not understand it. There had been nothing in Roger's manner when they were dating to indicate this was the way he was. Oh, she had been curious, of course, and had allowed minor petting--allowed him to play with her breasts, and to kiss them once or twice. But he had always stopped when she asked him to. Even that one night on Lookout Drive in Marin County, where they had gone after dinner at Sabella's to look at the Bay three months before they were married.
Diane remembered that night vividly now, blushing a little at the recollection. She had drunk a little too much wine with the broiled lobster, and had fallen into a giggly, playful mood, almost a teasing mood. She hadn't meant to let things get as far as they had, and she was sorry afterward that it had happened. But it had happened...
They had parked in a small turnout, in a grove of eucalyptus trees. The view of the Bay, with its millions of tiny, winking lights had been breathtaking. And the mood had been full and golden in the starlit sky. She had moved close to Roger, nuzzling against him, and his arms had gone around her. He had kissed her then, lightly at first, then more ardently, his tongue flicking over her lips, and she had felt a stirring deep in her stomach, responding to his mouth, accepting his tongue deep inside her own.
Before she quite knew what was happening, his hands had been on her breasts, lightly, stroking gently, and a warm lethargy had taken hold of her. His touch was so good on her body! She had kissed him more passionately, and when his hands strayed down inside the low-cut front of her summer dress, she had made no immediate move to stop him. It was only when fingers deftly slid the dress straps from her shoulders and pulled the front down to expose the creamy white globes of her full, darkly pink-nippled breasts that she had felt the first tinges of panic.
She had tried to pull away. "No, n-no, Roger, we mustn't! We ... can't go any ... further!" she had said, breathlessly. But his head had dipped down and his lips had closed around one of the rigid pink nipples, sucking it gently, rolling his tongue along it. She had felt blind, wild passion surge through her at the contact of his mouth, and in those few seconds her resistance had melted. He sensed this, and his hands had begun to stroke her soft, vibrant legs, moving higher, sliding the short skirt of the dress up on the smooth white flesh of her thighs. His fingers had traversed the down-soft surface of her inner thighs until they almost touched the moistening mound of her pantie's crotch band, his mouth moving urgently on her breast now.
"No, no, no!" she had moaned, but it was an ineffectual cry and the sensations which coursed through her were new, and strange and wonderful. Her brain had been reeling, torn between the sensuous manipulations of Roger's mouth and hands--and the inbred concept of sexual contact before marriage as a cardinal sin. She wanted to be free of his warm, wet lips, his moving hands, and yet she didn't. A battle raged in her mind as Roger's hands raised the dress even higher, bunching it about her waist, and his hands had taunted her smooth, flat stomach. Suddenly, his fingers were inside the elastic waist band of her panties, touching the soft pubic mound within, moving down to touch the slightly quivering passage of her naked vagina. The touches of his fingers there sent rippling waves of ardor boiling and flooding into her brain, numbing it, and she gave herself up momentarily to the new sensations in her loins as he gently parted the soft virginal pubic hair and slowly insinuated a finger into her tender, sensitive cunt, so wet from the passion fluid seeping from its trembling walls, expanding the small membranous opening which denoted her virginity. Then he had found the tiny, oscillating bud of her clitoris and begun to stroke it lightly with the tip of his finger, causing her to cry up into his mouth with sheer delight. It was so good, so good, and at that moment she didn't care if it was wrong, it felt so wonderful...
But then she had heard the whisper of his zipper, and her eyes had flown open and the spell was broken. She looked down in sudden, consuming terror to see the huge, blue-veined length of his erect cock held lewdly in his free hand. She watched in fascinated horror as it seemed to jerk spasmodically, and a thin oozing liquid seeped from the tiny glans opening.
"Baby ... baby, I ... need you, I want you, Oh Jesus Diane, I want you so goddamned much ...," Roger had moaned, and with his other hand he had begun to pull her panties down.
She had begun to struggle then. "No, Roger, stop, stop!" she had screamed. She strove with all her efforts against him, trying to free herself from his grasp, but he was too strong for her. He had forced her down on her back on the seat, and she had felt that warm sticky head of his cock against her thigh, felt it trembling there as he tried to work its impossible length upward to her pure, defenseless vaginal opening. She squeezed her legs tightly together, still struggling, still fighting, and then Roger had cried out, "Oh Christ, oh son of a bitch, I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum!" His member seemed to jerk out of control against her leg, and then Diane felt a great warm floodtide of hot liquid flow along her thighs, inundate her fleecy golden pubic hair, drench the soft, still quivering folds of her cunt. It was as if she were being drowned in a never-ending torrent of sticky sperm as he moaned and writhed convulsively above her...
Afterward, they had sat in shameful silence in the car, and Diane had cried uncontrollably. He had tried to comfort her, to tell her he was sorry, but she had refused to allow him to touch her. She had felt soiled and dirty and humiliated. But later, when she had calmed down enough to look at things rationally, she had realized Roger was contrite, and as miserable as she. He begged her to forgive him, and told her that he wouldn't touch her again until they were man and wife. And she had forgiven him, because it was partially her fault. She accepted that partial blame, and told him so, and confessed that she had allowed things to get well out of hand.
There had been no more episodes after that. Not until their wedding night, when he had never given her the opportunity to allow her sexual excitement to build normally and had attacked like some demented, mindless beast...
Diane felt her stomach churning as she recalled the Lookout Drive occurrence, and her wedding night. The chill seemed to be stronger now, and she shivered more violently. A good, hot bath, that was what she needed. To soak away the chill--and some of the memories with it.
She finished making the bed and went into the bathroom. She put the stopper in the tub and ran water into it, testing the temperature as she twirled the two chrome handles. When it was just as she liked it, hot but not too hot, she undressed quickly, folding her plaid skirt and frilly white blouse and her under things in a neat pile on top of the clothes hamper. As she waited for the tub to fill completely, she looked at herself critically in the full-length mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door.
She was a small woman, barely three inches over five feet, but her body was beautifully and symmetrically proportioned. Her blonde hair hung long and when she let it fall down across her shoulder it covered partially her full, round breasts. She did that now, and thought: I look very sensual that way, almost brazen. She swept the hair back again, studying the creamy white skin of her breasts, with their marbled and blue-veined translucence, the dark areolas making large, perfect accents for her small, now-rigid nipples. She raised her arms over her head, stretching her tits taut, looking like a classic nude sculpture in pose.
She stood that way for a long moment, letting her eyes move down across the flat surface of her stomach, past the tiny puckered outline of her navel. The triangle of her womanness was silky and golden, very fine, highlighting the pink fullness of her vaginal lips. She could see the tip of her clitoris peeking out from the soft puffy slit in an almost childish shyness there.
She pirouetted lightly, examining the dimpled roundness of her satiny buttocks, the rippling muscles in the backs of her slim, tapered thighs. The veins in the soft hollows in back of her knees were prominent, tantalizingly so, and her calves and ankles were shapely.
I have a good body, she thought. I really do. But it hasn't brought me any physical happiness in two full years of marriage. I can understand, certainly, why Roger becomes so aroused at the sight of me nude. That much I can understand, and it pleases me; my ego is as strong as any other woman's, and it's so nice to know that I have an attractive body. But what I can't understand is why Roger treats me the way he does. I always thought men respected beauty of form, protected it--not flailed it as if it were something terribly ugly, to be sneered at and scorned and treated with contempt...
Diane became aware of a wafting cloud of steam and realized that the tub was filled almost to the brim. She turned off the faucets and tested the water with her hand. A little hot, but that was fine; she was so cold. She stepped into the tub, felt the heat of the water envelop her as she slowly sank down, banishing the cold, filling her with a relaxed, almost contented feeling as she lay back with her head touching the rear lip of the porcelain.
She lay there for almost ten minutes, relaxing, blanking her mind to all but the lethargic warmth of the water. And then the sounds began to filter through the thin walls of the duplex.
Diane stiffened in the tub, even though the words were at first indistinguishable. Damn that Judy Carneal! she thought. She's entertaining some man again in the middle of the day. Why, she's nothing better than a ... a whore, the way she carries on! Men always in her place, always different men, coming at all hours of the day and night. Not that it's any of my business what she does, but these walls are so paper thin that you can hear practically everything that's being said and that's going on over there...
A man's voice said suddenly, distinctly, "Come on, baby, let's do it right here."
"Ahh, Harry, not in the bathroom," Judy Carneal's voice answered clearly. "We'll go in the bedroom, honey."
"No, right here. I've always wanted to have my cock sucked in the john."
"Well ... all right."
"That's it, baby. Take off that housecoat so I can see those big tits of yours while you suck me."
"How's this, Harry?"
"Beautiful, baby, just beautiful. Damn, but you got a fine set on you. Come over here so I can feel your cunt... Good, good. How do you like that, baby?"
"Mmmmmm!" And then, "Take your cock out, Harry. Let me see that big monster of yours."
"Okay ... there it is."
"Oh, Harry, it's so hard! It's like a chunk of granite, Harry! God, what a beautiful cock!"
Diane lay rigid in the warm bath water, listening, holding her breath. Dear God! she thought. They ... they were disgusting! They were sick, disgusting degenerates! He ... he wants Judy to ... to kiss his ... penis and she's going to do it! She's going to take his big ugly throbbing penis, like Roger's, between her full red lips and ... and...
"That's it, baby," the man's voice groaned. "Stroke it a little, that's it, run your fingernails along my balls ... easy, damn you, easy..."
"There, honey. How does that feel?"
"Oh, Christ, get down on your knees, will you? Start sucking it, you bitch, start sucking it!"
I can't listen to any more of this! Diane's mind screamed. I've got to get out of here! It's sick ... lewd ... disgusting ... But she only lay motionless in the warm water, holding her breath, feeling a strange series of involuntary sensations churning deep in the pit of her own stomach as she listened to the salacious conversation filtering through the thin wall separating the two duplex bathrooms.
"There ... ahhhhh ... oh, that's nice, Judy baby, the inside of your mouth is like warm butter! Oh Jesus, that's ... ahhhhh! ... that's real nice, baby!"
"Ummmmmmmmmmm!"
"You know how to ... ahhhhh ... suck it, oh Jesus you really know how to suck cock, baby! You love cock in your mouth, don't you ... don't you ... oooohhhhh, agggghhhh, ummmmmm!"
Stop it, stop it, stop it! Diane screamed silently. But she looked down at her breasts and saw that the nipples were turgid now, jutting up from the gently bobbing globes of her breasts like mountain peaks on some lonely Pacific island. A tender aching had begun between her legs, in spite of the revulsion she felt at the words she was hearing. She moved her hand from the side of the tub and touched her breasts, touching one of the nipples, and then pulled her hand back quickly. The contact of her own fingers had intensified the aching in her cunt. Dear God, what was happening to her? Had ... had she become sexually aroused listening to that filth next door? No, no ... but it was true. Her entire being quivered beneath the tepid bath water.
"Oh Christ, Judy, Judy, suck it ... suck it!" the man groaned through the wall. "Yes, that's it that's ... it ... milk it dry, you hot little bitch ... suck me dry ... ohhhhhhh!"
The inside of Diane's mouth was dry, and she ran her pink tongue over her lips several times, trying to dispel the arid, cottony taste. She found herself trying to picture in her mind the position Judy Carneal and the man, Harry, were in. He was sitting on the toilet seat ... yes, that was it, sitting on the toilet seat with his legs spread wide and Judy was kneeling between them, her long auburn hair fanning out over his belly and abdomen, taking his blood-swollen shaft into her mouth and suckling it, up and down, up and down, up and down...
A wave of shame caused her to flush a violent crimson. She was no better than they were! Thinking lewd, filthy thoughts, working herself up into an impossible froth ... Suddenly, she wished Roger were home. She was aroused, all right, there was no purpose in deluding herself that she wasn't. For the first time in two years, she was sexually ready; if Roger were only here she would gladly accept his huge penis now, she needed release, needed it desperately...
"That's it, that's iiiiitttt! Tickle my balls, baby ... tickle them ... holy Christ, I'm almost there ... suck it harder, Judy ... harder ... harderrrr! ... aaaaggggghhhhh, ohhhhhhhh!"
Diane lifted her hand from the edge of the tub again and began to massage her right breast, slowly, rhythmically. God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! her mind almost screamed. But I don't care, I can't stand it! Her mind had blotted out all the evils she had been led to believe came from masturbation. There was only her urgency now, her need for release from the intense arousal of her body by the lustful activities beyond the paper thin bathroom wall.
She continued to massage her breast, avoiding the nipple at first, cupping the creamy naked globe in her long slim fingers, kneading the translucent flesh, causing whirlpools of passion to seethe within her. Then she touched the nipple with her thumb, felt it diamond hard. She rolled the ball of her thumb back and forth across the erect bud, intensifying further the rising crescendo of sexual frenzy.
Diane arched her back, raising her hips off the tub bottom, lifting her stomach and the dripping, hair-covered mound of her loins out of the water. She braced her body by pressing the soles of her feet to the porcelain, and then lifted her left leg out of the water, hooking it over the side of the tub, opening wide the soft, fluted edges of her cunt. Still she massaged her now wildly trembling breast, teasing the nipple, pinching it between thumb and forefinger until it throbbed like a thing alive.
From next door, Harry screamed, "I'm ... going to cum, baby! Suck it, bitch, suck it suck it suck it ... aaaaggghhhh, I'm cumming, I'm ... cummmmiinngggg, aaaahhhhggg!"
Diane could stand it no more. Her other hand dipped down between her widespread thighs. It was wet with something else besides the water, with the secretion of her passion. She gentled her finger into the moist flesh, and the feeling generated by her own fingers was so very, very good. She manipulated the soft hair lined inner lips until she could feel them swelling with the rush of blood, and her clitoris was rigid and tingling. Her index finger came in contact with the trembling bud, and she began to gasp with total abandoned delight as she felt release imminent. Her hips thrashed the bath water and her hand squeezed her breast, released it, squeezed it harder. Faster, faster, faster her finger rubbed across the sensitive clit, blanking her mind of all thoughts, all sanity; nothing existed for her in that moment except the delirious coming of her impending climax...
And then she was there!
She was cumming like a wild woman!
Her hips flailed frantically at the water, beat it to a froth, as wave after wave after maddening wave of intense, bursting release seized her. Pinwheels of light, in kaleidoscopic colors, appeared in back of her eyes and she cried out, once, in pleasure so acute it was like pure pain. As her orgasm began to ebb, her buttocks sank back to the porcelain bottom of the tub and her hand stilled but did not leave her cunt. She lay there, not moving, her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her chest rising and falling spasmodically.
From next door: "Jesus, Judy, there's nobody who sucks cock like you do. Nobody a-tall! You got every last goddamned drop in my nuts down that throat of yours!"
"I'm glad you liked it, Harry honey. Now how about doing the same for me? My pussy's on fire!"
"All right. And after that, I'm gonna throw a fuck into you like you never had before. And that's a promise."
"What are we waiting for?"
There was the sound of a door being opened, and then closed, and then there was only silence. Diane lay there, listening disappointedly to that silence, and sanity returned to her satiated brain.
With it came abject mortification.
She was sick with the knowledge of what she had just done, of the act of carnal self-abuse that she had performed on herself. What was the matter with her? Was she so starved for love that she had to resort to masturbation for satisfaction? Was this what Roger's animalistic love-making had driven her to? Would she repeat time and again these self-manipulations in order to achieve emotional release?
The questions churned and twisted in Diane's mind. She felt sick to her stomach, and ... impure, as if her body were harboring thousands of tiny, invisible, creeping things. Abruptly, she stood up in the tub and switched on the shower, letting the needle spray grow as hot as she could stand it and then lathering herself from head to toe with scented feminine soap.
At the end of ten minutes, she began to feel a little better. She stepped out of the shower, refusing to allow her mind now to dwell on what had happened only minutes earlier. She toweled herself dry briskly, not even looking at her glowing pink-red body in the full-length mirror. She dressed hurriedly, and went out to the kitchen.
This day was wrong, all wrong. Last night, she had told Roger that she would have something special for him when he came home from work this evening, but hadn't told him what. It would be a surprise. What she had been planning was a very fancy shrimp Creole for his supper, his favorite dish, with a bottle of good Chablis she had bought from savings out of her grocery money, and candlelight, and soft music; it had been her idea to get him in a gentle, tender, loving mood, so that later on, when they went to bed, Roger would come to her as a husband and a lover--not as a brute. But then the loneliness of the morning had taken hold of her, and the old bitterness at his treatment of her over the past two years, and now the ... the scene in the bath tub ... Well, it was all spoiled now. She didn't even want to think about sex or love, much less about making the complicated shrimp dish from her grandmother's recipe.
Still, she had to have something with which to occupy her time for the rest of the day, until Roger came home. It was barely noon now, and the prospect of simply sitting in front of the TV screen for the remainder of the afternoon had no appeal at all for her. Too, there was the fact that she had already bought all of the preparations for the Creole--fresh, deveined shrimp and green peppers and garlic and paprika and stewed tomatoes...
Well, she might as well make it now. But there would be none of the Chablis with it, and no candlelight or soft music. It would just be a dinner, like all other dinners. That was all.
Diane opened the refrigerator, took out the shrimp, and set intensely to work on the side-board.
Chapter 2
Roger Slater was adding a long and intricate column of figures when Marcus Cord knocked on the edge of his office door. Roger looked up from the IBM calculator and smiled. "Come in, Marc."
Cord entered. He was dressed in the latest semi-mod fashion, not in the conservative grey or black three-button business suit which Roger wore. Cord had on a double-breasted pin-stripe jacket over checkered, slightly bell-bottomed pants, a rich blue shirt with a bright, wide-patterned tie, and Roger knew without looking that the shoes would be an off-color with wide buckles. Cord's hair, was a premature salt-and-pepper, which he wore long with thick, bushy side-burns. The total effect was impressive, rather than ostentatious or absurd. If he, Roger, ever tried to wear such clothes, he would have looked absolutely ridiculous and would probably have been fired as well.
Cord grinned and said, "Am I interrupting?"
"No. I'm just finishing the Apperson account for Pierson to see. What's on your mind?"
"Some of us are stopping off for a drink tonight, and I thought you might like to join us."
"Great. Count me in." Well, why the hell not? Roger thought bitterly. What's there to go home to, anyway? Just a cold, frigid wife, that's all. Well, maybe after I've had a couple of drinks, Diane will begin to look interesting again. Although I doubt it. He said, "Where?"
"There's that new place around the corner. You know, the one that looks like an English pub. I understand it has atmosphere, drinks are reasonable. Pig and Whistle, I think is the name."
Roger nodded. "I may be a little late, but I'll come by."
Cord slapped his hand against the door. "Fine." He turned and walked away, swaggering a little as he always did.
Instead of returning to the Apperson account, Roger stared at the computer in front of him and thought about Marcus Cord. The man was easy to envy, for he had the handsome attributes of wavy brown hair, blue eyes, and a dimpled smile which made women take a second look. He had been a football player in college, which hadn't been so many years ago to have lost Cord his muscular and well-developed physique; and combined with a charming and sophisticated manner, which was not affected but extremely natural, Cord made the women take that third and fourth look as well. He exuded sex like an aura around him, and damnit, he knew it.
Roger remembered when Diane had first seen him after shopping one night a couple of months ago, when she had met him for a ride home. By chance, Cord had been standing outside the office building with him at the moment Diane walked up, and when she laid eyes on the man, Roger knew she was violently attracted to him. Physically, lustfully, hungrily; not with love or tenderness which had characterized her desire for Roger. Animal instincts--pure bitch heat, and he had felt the rise of jealousy spread through him. He had been rather nasty to her that night, and they had ended the evening in a bitter fight. He had thrown the way she had acted toward Cord at her then, with all the acid of a man scorned. She in turn had denied everything, swearing it was only Roger she wanted, and that he was fabricating and fantasizing the whole thing. The problem had been that she really hadn't done anything. There was nothing Roger could point to except the explosive air which had been generated. He knew and she knew and Cord knew; but that didn't win the argument for him.
Still Marcus Cord was higher up in the corporation than Roger. He was in another section, a vice president in charge of customer service, which meant that his power over Roger was only indirect--but not worth crossing. Roger knew that if he alienated Cord, his chances of a good long term career at Waller, Waller, Crist, and Maxwell would be ended.
Besides, Roger had no reason to feel that Cord was a threat to his marriage, or that Diane, as indifferent as she was in bed, would ever consummate her desire if offered the chance. Cord had enough women to satisfy the most accomplished satyr. Although married to a beautiful woman from all that Roger had heard, he was nonetheless the office cocksman. He was smart enough not to fool around where he worked, or at least if he had, there had been no talk of it. God knew he could have had any of the nubile, mini- skirted girls in the typing pool, and they wouldn't have kept their mouths shut for a second. Yet when Cord was some other place--a bar, a restaurant, anywhere where there was a female around--he was definitely on the prowl. Roger had heard from another of the staff that Cord had once picked up and later bedded an airline stewardess on the forty minute run between Los Angeles and San Francisco--an almost impossible feat.
Roger shook his head. Why the hell couldn't he be that way? He was so God-awful inhibited, not at all like Cord. Why was he so damned straight and staid? He slammed his fist against the desk top. Well, if Diane kept up the way she was going, he would damn well stop being so stuffy and start being more of a swinger!
Roger stayed late at the office, even though he didn't feel like it. The Apperson account went slowly after he got back to thinking about it, instead of his wife and himself and Marcus Cord. He had to get it done; he had promised it to his boss, Ernst Pierson by the next morning. It was the hour here and the hour there of overtime which made the company begin to take notice of him, of that he was sure. Take notice they had: Two fifty dollar raises in six months, and promises of promotions and other benefits. The firm was shorthanded, too, which made his position even more valuable, and Roger willed himself to put in the overtime and forget how tired he was. He wanted to get ahead and earn more money, and this was the way to do it. He had to be on his toes, though, and that took a lot out of him. He realized that some of the problems around his home were his, but that didn't excuse Diane's perpetual iciness and indifference to his needs.
Roger finished at a quarter to six, and put the account portfolio on Pierson's desk before leaving.
He doubted that Cord would still be at the Pig and Whistle, but he felt like he deserved a drink anyway. He walked around the corner and entered the little bar. It took him a moment to let his eyes accustom to the dimness, for the crowd of men and women and the miasma of smoke blanketed what little light filtered from the lamps and windows.
The Pig and Whistle was as Cord said it was: an American idea of what an English pub might look like. The walls and ceiling were in a pseudo-Tudor wood beam design, with the stucco painted white. There was a long oak bar, highly polished, manned by a large, English-accented bartender who sported a handlebar moustache. There were long wood handles attached to the beer spigots, and Whitbread and Guinness Stout were advertised as being served.
There were groups of small, roughly hewn tables and matching chairs scattered haphazardly around the room. A pert waitress passed among the customers with a brass tray of beer glasses and other drinks. She was dressed in 18th Century fashion, except with an extremely short skirt, and she made sharp and slightly suggestive remarks to anybody who spoke to her. A couple of men were throwing darts at a circular cork board in one corner. Roger didn't recognize the shorter of the two, but the other man was definitely Cord.
Cord laughed as the other man stuck a dart in the wall next to the board, slapped the man on the back and turned. He saw Slater and raised a hand in greeting. "Roger! Over here, man!"
Roger made his way through the packed mass and reached Cord. "Sorry I'm late. Where is everybody?"
"They've all gone. It's just us two." Cord turned back to the man he had been playing with and said, "My friend is here. Thanks for the game."
"I owe you for two, I think," the stranger said good naturedly. "For someone who never played darts, you caught on pretty fast."
Cord laughed and together, he and Roger crossed to an empty table, leaving the other man standing alone. He took the chair next to the wall and gestured for the waitress. "That man over there owes me two beers," he told her when she arrived. "Serve one to me and one to him," he added, pointing to Roger. "And make it quick."
"I'll make it in my own sweet time," the girl snapped. She swung the tray around and walked off, her rear end twitching provocatively.
Cord laughed and then grinned at Roger. "She looks tempting. Right, Rog?"
Roger smiled back awkwardly. This was the first time he had been with Cord alone on a social occasion. He felt uncomfortable, over his head in new and strange waters. Cord was an over- powering force, he suddenly realized, somebody he would be entirely unable to cope with.
The beer appeared quickly and again the girl swished her skirt and jiggled the globoid cheeks of her ass at Cord. This time Cord leaned over and patted her thighs lightly. She turned and in mock anger told him to stop with the familiarity. He only patted her again. The scent of sex was heavy in the air. Cord merely had to say when and she'd ask him where, Roger thought to himself. He gripped the thick stein handle and drank deeply of the golden brew. It washed down his throat and he quaffed again. The waitress left, winking at them.
Cord lit a cigarette and sipped the beer and looked very earnestly at Roger. "I'll be honest with you," he said. "Actually, there was nobody else here. I only wanted you to come."
"But why--?"
"Why tell you that a group of us were meeting here? Simple. In case I was overheard by those pack of ears in the office. I didn't want them to know about it."
Roger's head buzzed. A warning bell rang in the back of his mind, but he couldn't figure why, any more than he could figure why Cord had gone to all this trouble. "I don't understand," he replied, frowning slightly.
"You know, Roger, that you've been noticed."
"Noticed?"
"In the office. You've shown ambition and a knowledge of the business, and you're young. You should go far with us."
Roger couldn't help but feel pleased. Cord only paused in his praise to order another round, and as Roger finished one beer the other appeared in its place.
"Our business, though," Cord continued, "has a great deal of politics." He took a final puff on his cigarette and put it out in the pewter ash tray. "In fact, those politics are often cruel and unjust, and to the unwary can be deadly."
"I've never tried to do anything to buy my job, Marc, if that's what you're driving at."
"No, no, I realize that," Cord replied. "You've been conscientious, and you've tried to be fair with everybody. Believe me, that's a refreshing change from the usual." He waved to the waitress that he wanted another round, and then refused to take the money Roger offered. "This is going on my expense account, Rog. I can afford it better than you. Just drink and listen to me." He paused again. "The office has been talking about Drake retiring soon, haven't they?"
Roger nodded. "I think Jim's due to leave next month, isn't he?"
"He is, and that means I'll be looking for a new general manager for my section. Now we both know that Willard Lewis wants that position, and that he's in line to get it."
"I thought that was pretty well settled. I mean, by the way Willard has been talking, I assumed--"
"Right," Cord said, breaking in. "He has an excellent record and has been with the company for a good many years. By all the written rules of good company policy, Roger, he deserves the job." Cord pursed his lips thoughtfully and then took a drink of beer. "Weigh his qualifications against anybody else's, and he's the man."
Roger's thoughts raced at what he imagined might be said next. Did this meeting represent ... was Cord trying to offer him ... damn it, was this all a lead-up to his appointment to the managerial position? His hand trembled as he drank, and the thrill of such an unlikely possibility coursed through him. God! He dare not dream of such an advancement!
"But this is where the politics I mentioned comes in," Cord said, interrupting Roger's reverie. "Business isn't always done by the rules, written or unwritten, and quite often it's a matter of manipulations."
"I'm afraid you've lost me."
Cord chuckled. "All right, Rog, I'll lay it on the line. In plain language, the promotion belongs to Lewis, but my intentions are to give it to you. Am I clear now?"
"I'm ... overwhelmed, Marc! I truly am." Roger paused. His brain was spinning excitedly. "But you said politics. That's still a little ..." He searched for the right word. "Unclear."
"Perfectly obvious to me. Lewis is old fashioned. He's too goddamned set in his ways, and as I move up in the firm, he could be more of a liability than an asset. I'd hazard to say that he could even become a danger to me."
"And I wouldn't be, is that it?"
"I can trust a man who'll stay by me and guard my backside. You can be that man, Rog, if you want to be. You're interested in getting ahead, and you're young enough to see how sticking by me can help you. Let me break the ground, and you'll ride to the top with me, that I promise."
Roger was stunned. He quickly took another large swallow of beer. "That sounds fine with me, Marc. I'll ... work for you in every way I can. You can count on me."
Cord offered his hand and Roger shook it, sealing the bargain. "I'm sure I can count on you, Rog," Cord said warmly. "I pride myself on analyzing character, and you're not the kind to think up clever schemes or angles, and stab me in the back."
For some reason Roger felt a pang of self-revulsion. "You're right, Marc. I don't have the guts for politics."
"I didn't say that, Roger."
"No, but it's true. I'm colorless, too staid and too quiet. I tend to climb into a safe little hole so that I won't see what's really going on in the world." Roger wondered why he was talking like this, especially to Cord. But then, hadn't his prospective new boss been candid with him, taking a chance by confiding in him? Embarrassed, Roger laughed self consciously and raised the beer glass. "Here's a toast, Marc," he said. "To the perfect combination of the swinger and the prude."
Cork clinked glasses, smiling broadly. "Here's to us, all right. But don't belittle yourself, Rog. I'm too flamboyant, and I think we can help each other. We're a good complement."
Feeling better from Cord's remarks, Roger threw his head back and drained his beer. Cord motioned for the waitress again and ordered another round. She left and Cord said to Roger, "After this drink, let's go some place else. You know, find some action, have a little fun maybe."
Roger was tempted. He was more tempted than ever before in his married life. The idea of a hot, unknown pussy crawling and heaving around his pistoning cock made his head swim with desire, and he felt his prick engorge and stiffen in his pants. He needed a good fuck tonight, and Diane was definitely not that. Then he remembered he had promised her he would be home early this evening, for some special reason she had refused to elaborate upon. In spite of his sexual hunger, he had to admit that he still loved her, and that he was a man who kept his promises. He wanted to pound the table in frustration.
"Damnit, Marc, I can't tonight. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I'll tell you what, Rog. Why don't you and your wife come over to dinner tomorrow night? I want you to meet Cindy, my wife. I think you'll like her." He winked at Roger, then turned to the waitress. She was back with the beers. He beckoned her to lean over so that he could whisper something to her. Roger overheard Cord ask the girl what time she got off work. She told him nine, and Cord said that he would be at this table, and if she would care for dinner...
The waitress smiled provocatively, nodded agreement and moved away. Roger almost groaned involuntarily at the image of what was certainly to follow the dinner. A fine dessert, all right...
"I've got to hand it to you, Marc," he said then, with genuine admiration. "You really have a way with the women."
Cord gave him a superior grin. "Nothing to it, Rog. Just takes practice. Hell, you can have it, too. Just lose some of your Victorian prudery and play the modern role."
"Security," Roger said. "That's my trouble. I want security. I come from an average middle class home, Marc. My dad was a stock broker, and you know how conservative they are. We were close, and I guess I picked up his attitudes toward solidarity." Roger rose from the chair realizing for the first time that he was somewhat drunk.
"Don't let it worry you, Rog," Cord said. "Maybe you can loosen up a bit as we work together."
Roger steadied himself with a hand on the edge of the table. "I hope so." He paused, then said, "Thank you, Marc, thank you very much for this position. You ... won't regret it."
"I'm sure I won't. Now get home, Rog. I wouldn't want to go anywhere else if I had a hot little piece like yours waiting either. See you tomorrow night."
Roger smiled weakly, said good night, and staggered toward the exit. Cord's last words burned in his mind. Hot piece. If Marc only knew what kind of an icy bitch she really was. Even out of bed, she demanded all the little things involved in story book romance, with her teasing, suggestive remarks and her come-on looks, parading around in provocative clothes. But it was all a sham. Get down to basics, and she might as well have been encased in a block of glacier ice for all the good it did him. His balls and penis throbbed and ached for the loving touch of a woman, and all he had to look forward to was cold rejection.
Roger walked to the parking lot, the cool night air ineffectual on the rising cloud of inebriation, and picked up his car. The beer surged through his system, and made his thoughts hazy and his emotions fortified. Goddamn it, he was going to show her! He was going to fuck the shit out of her tonight whether she liked it or not, by God!
Roger drove more recklessly than was his usual wont from the combination of beer and passion. The alcohol had completely flooded his mind, and with careless abandon he speeded through the downtown traffic to Geary Boulevard, unmindful of possible violations. Christ, I'm drunker than I thought! he told himself. He never could hold his liquor very well, and more than two of anything, even glasses of wine or beer, affected him badly.
The heat of rising desire flamed his already lewdly-burning thoughts. Goddamn Cord and his wanton ways! That waitress' smirking countenance again appeared in his mind's eye. Her thinly disguised hunger for Cord's handsome body, and no doubt huge cock, flashed before him like a red flag in front of a maddened bull. Like the bull, Roger more and more angry, until he almost screamed with rage and frustration.
Goddamn his wife! His Diane, his one and only--Shit! God, he'd be deliriously happy if only she was a woman, a red-blooded female who wanted him! But he was denied his rights, his end of the marriage bargain. He pictured the ideal situation with Diane, with her mewling and moaning with pleasure as he took her a hundred different ways, and she in turn writhing and sucking and kissing him with unquenchable lust. He could almost feel the creamy secretions of her cunt as she whispered his name, and he groaned, knowing full well that her pussy was as dry and arid as a withered old crone's.
His long, hardened prick was bent mercilessly in his pants, and he could tell that he was oozing secretions into the cotton of his underwear. Never had he been so hot, so intensely aroused, not since the night on Lookout Drive when Diane had first shown what kind of lover she was to be. The pain of his doubled cock was excruciating, and with the desperation of a tortured man he reached down with his left hand and fumbled for the fly of his suit trousers. The zipper protested, for the sitting position made for awkward maneuverability; but slowly he was able to lower it until his white underpants bulged through the narrow opening, and the heavy sack of cloth stretched his trousers to their limit.
Roger looked down at the protuberance. The agony of what he was doing almost outweighed the relief he felt. My God, he thought with horror, here I am, driving along with my pants undone! I can't believe it! What the hell is happening to me? Has my sense of decency become warped?
Then he remembered Cord's words: "Just lose some of your Victorian prudery and play the modern role." Modern role: the permissive man in a wide-open society, where sex was the game--for its own sake and nothing more. As if in agreement, his swollen member throbbed against its restraining hold, and it seemed to jerk restlessly, as if seeking escape.
Trembling with the pent-up fury of his overwrought emotions, Roger touched the swelling and felt a tremor race through his groin and buttocks. What am I doing? I haven't done this since I was a teenager! The narrow band of material which opened along the front of his shorts seemed to widen as his cock bloated the front of his pants. As if of their own volition, his fingers ran along the band, the sensations they caused his prick almost overwhelming. For God's sake, stop this! What would happen if you were seen like this, manipulating yourself like an adolescent!
But his fingers continued to caress the stiffened cock, its outline hard against the shorts, and then he pulled the material aside and like a steel spring, his prick shot free. Oh Christ ... no! No!
Roger tried to keep his eyes glued to the windshield, off his erect penis, but with almost animalistic fascination he dipped his vision, seeing the blood-filled knob's towering size. He had never been bigger! His fingers caressed the mighty shaft, and the cool air made it tingle maddeningly.
The foreskin folded back as his hand stroked the burning flesh, and the head winked with its unseeing eye through the steering wheel at him. Sperm churned in the boiling cauldrons of his balls, and he could feel the rising of his cum in the base of his cock. He took one last look at the action of his manipulations, the full fist of his hand wrapped around the pole of his penis, the furious pumping of his wrist and arm almost forcing him to stop the car...
Thirty-fourth Avenue was just ahead, and his duplex within sight. Thankfully, he took his left hand away from his screaming, pleading cock and turned the wheel to bring the Plymouth onto his street and then into the duplex's driveway. He stopped the car in the protecting shadows of the garage. He sat there for a long minute, staring down at his still rock-hard prick, his breath ragged and hoarse. He realized he was too far beyond recovery to fight the primeval urges his body thrust upon him, and his mind began to form weird erotic scenes of the lewd positions he was going to force his wife into. He opened the door, and started his desire-wracked body toward the kitchen entrance, his hand once more enclosed over the turgid shaft.
* * *
Diane straightened up the kitchen for perhaps the dozenth time, waiting impatiently for Roger to come home. She looked over at the table, set but incomplete without the candles and wine she had originally planned to have. Feelings of remorse and guilt swept through her. When she was upset like this she had to keep her hands busy, and she occupied herself by washing a couple of kitchen shelves unnecessarily. As the hours ticked by, the morning's horrible experience began to return to her mind in spite of herself. She blushed guiltily at the thoughts, shutting her eyes tightly in a vain effort to reject the smoldering picture of her fingers contacting the soft, wet slit of her vagina and throbbing mounds of her breasts, and she drew in her breath sharply to hold back a groan of humiliation. She found herself once again reliving the maddening onanistic caresses, and her hips churned in unintentional rhythm to the teasing recollections of unwanted fulfillment.
The sound of Roger's car stopping in the garage brought Diane back to reality, shattering the horrid, vile dream in her mind. She whimpered as tears of abasement cascaded down her cheeks. Oh God! she cried to herself. Only yesterday I had convinced myself I would give my body to Roger tonight, and really find myself sexually. Well, she had found a certain sexuality within her--but not with her husband. The mental preparations had been for naught, had actually turned her colder than ever. He must never know. Roger must never know...
Suddenly the door burst open and Roger stormed into the kitchen. His eyes blazed with the uncontrolled lust which burned through his loins. His immense, ruby-tipped penis leaped ahead of him as he moved deliberately across the room toward his wife, and he held it pointing at her with his hand still beating the hardened flesh.
Diane shuddered, her breath frozen in her throat, and she could only stand immobile where she was. What ...? What was this ... this sick thing she was witnessing? Roger, her Roger, standing there with his huge penis in his hand. Her mind balked, and then she was overcome with dreadful apprehension.
"I've got to have you, you bitch!" Roger blurted. "Right now, right here, and goddamn it, you'd better be good for a change!"
Diane cowered back into a corner, whimpering with fright. He stepped closer, then grabbed her savagely with his free hand. He swept her to him, and her attempts to free herself from his grasp were futile. She was hauled ruthlessly against the rigidity of his lust-hardened cock. She felt his immense weapon through the thin material of her housedress, and she stared in abject horror into his contorted face. His eyes were more lust-possessed than she had ever seen them before, and his mouth was drawn back over his teeth in an almost vicious snarl.
Wild thought of wrenching herself free and running from him seized Diane, but her husband's strong arms pinned her to him and his hot, beer-smelling mouth crushed against hers, stifling the groans she emitted in a tight, grinding kiss. Oh no! Oh God no! she thought wildly. What hideously monstrous thing is happening to me? Am I to be raped by my own husband? Is this my punishment for ... what I did this morning? Her eyes puddled with terrible anguish. God, I'm helpless; I can't move; I can't move!
Roger's hands explored her body, clutching and squeezing her soft, sensitive flesh, pulling harshly at her clothes. His swollen, rigid prick throbbed excitedly against her as he pinned her to him. Diane struggled feebly for one panicky moment, feeling his hand pressed against her tender breast and then she went limp, allowing the softness of her lips to meet Roger's own questing mouth. She couldn't fight him, he was too strong, but perhaps if she gave in a little it would help to return him to sanity. Desperately she thrust her tongue between Roger's lips and deep into his mouth, and he sucked it hungrily into the wetness of his cheeks. His kisses burned her like a firebrand.
Roger eased his head away then and hissed: "Take your clothes off!"
"Darling ... please!" she tried to plead with him, but it fell on deaf and ignoring ears. "I ... have your favorite dinner ... all ready and waiting. Let's do ... this later, if you want, but not ... not this way!"
Roger snarled and threw her to the floor. "Not this way ... not any goddamned way if you had your choice!" he spat thickly, his face contorted in a mask of rage and lust. He turned and swept his powerful arm across the table, sending glasses and silverware crashing cacophonously to the linoleum and then he wrenched the tablecloth off and wadded it and threw it against the stove. "The only dinner I want is a good fuck, you bitch! To hell with the food, understand?"
Diane knew that to plead anymore would be useless. She could only look up from her sprawling position on the linoleum and quiver helplessly from the evil which she knew was about to be perpetrated upon her defenseless body.
"You frigid, prick-teasing, sniveling, dried-up bitch! You were cut out to be an old maid, a virginal old maid. Why didn't you join a nunnery, for Christ's sake?"
Diane moaned and lowered her face to her hands as Roger loomed over her. His long, turgid shaft bobbed above her, and she closed her eyes. But then ... it touched her cheek! Panicked, she suddenly squirmed and struggled with renewed strength, frenzied at the thought of his filthy, lust bloated penis so close to her. She raked her fingernails against his cock and shrieked, "Get away from me! Don't touch me, you ... you animal!"
Roger lurched back beyond the reach of her claw-like nails. "Damn you! Goddamn you!" he shouted. "I'll teach you!" He reached out and grabbed her wrists and threw his body at her until his cock was jammed against her face again. "You want to do it the hard way, well then we'll do it the hard way!"
"No, no ... please ... I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Diane pleaded, the scalding tears streaming down her cheeks as he tore at her dress. Roughly he shredded the clothes from her, ripping and shredding the material as if it were tissue paper, until she was naked before him except for panties and bra. The dress lay like a lewd blanket around her.
"Shut up, you bitch!" he snarled.
"Roger, why ... why are you acting like this?" she moaned, his foul language and affronts a searing pain within her. She saw him take another drunken look between her widespread legs and her fear-quivering breasts.
"I'll tell you what you're going to do. You're going to suck me," Roger sneered. "That's it. You're going to put my cock in your mouth and suck it. You'd hate that, wouldn't you?"
She nodded uncontrollably. The very idea of his male organ filling her mouth was abhorrent, and she involuntarily gagged.
Without warning, he thrust forward and down, and the mammoth, sex-crazed head of his blue-veined penis rubbed against her taut, lipstick lined lips. She tried to twist herself free, but he pressed on and the saltine, musky taste of his cock began to seep inside her mouth. She gritted her teeth and moaned: "No ... no ... please...," and as she did he rammed forward. His prick forced its way deep into the soft folds of her mouth, like some horrible snake crawling in its hole.
"Suck, baby, suck!" he groaned, moving his buttocks in the pagan ritual of copulation. He dragged her hair and held it in his steel grip and drew her head toward him in spite of her efforts to free herself; she felt his sliding shaft burrow halfway down her throat, then back out slightly, then forward again.
"Oh Christ, Diane!" Roger hissed, "Uhhhhhh ... I love my cock in your mouth!"
His obscene words brought back the memory of the overheard bathroom scene of that morning, and for an instant Diane envisioned Judy Carneal lavishly suckling that man while he sat on the toilet. Her lips began to nibble slowly at her husband's thrusting instrument, and she coughed and sputtered. His balls bounced against her chin and there was the stale odor of sweat from his inner thighs, filling her nostrils with a constant reminder of the cruel, depraved attack she was being subject to.
"Jesus, Jesus!" he spluttered, "Oh my Christ!"
Roger worked demonlike, thrusting his hips, his hands jerking her head rhythmically with his motion, and he writhed and strained as though in the last throes of death. He slipped her mouth up and down over the end of his cock as though it were a cunt in which he was venting the full wrath of his drunken, bestial lust.
Diane could feel his fleshy cock stretch and expand against her cheeks until it completely filled her mouth. She had never felt so dirty, so debauched in her life, and the one urgent thought which she tried to find solace in was that it would soon be over. She sucked and wriggled her lips wildly, hoping to make him cum quicker, please him as best she could and pray that would be all he wanted or would take. She worked in a daze at the command of his fingers, licking and sucking like a hungry child as he forced her to follow slavelike his every thrust into the tender shelter of her mouth. Her ravishment continued, a ceaseless rape of her fear contorted face.
Then as suddenly as he had begun, Roger withdrew his cock. A small, sticky emission of lubricating fluid threaded between her lower lip and the head like a wet spider web. For a moment Diane hoped he might be finished with her, but then she saw that his eyes still burned with hateful lust, and her body trembled. She felt herself fall away and roll to one side, wretched, debased and lost, and the horrible image of how she must have looked with his cock buffeting her mouth made her ache with helplessness, made her want to vomit. She dimly felt Roger kneel beside her and crawl his hands over her thighs. She did not move, but closed her eyes and drifted into a semi-consciousness, past all caring.
Roger fumbled with her panties, his fingers sliding beneath the elastic leg band, hooking the wispy silk and then ripping away the garment with one vicious jerk. He traced the soft, hot flesh of her inner thighs, letting the air caress the widening legs, and momentarily his breath caught in his throat. He parted the inner lips of her cunt and gazed lewdly into the hot wetness which enshrined her clitoris. The full ripeness of her hips, the golden down of her pubic hair, the flatness of her white belly were all visible to him and his cock hardened still more at the thought of soon ravishing her helpless genitals.
Diane tossed her head wildly, with a shudder of horror as she felt his fingers probe the sensitive walls of her defenseless pussy. Involuntarily, the juices of her femininity began to flow as his pressure increased, although her mind was petrified with her utter subjugation. The erotic shock of his hand surged through her convulsively.
"OOhhhh!" she groaned as he leaned forward and touched his lips to the soft, fleece covered mound at the base of her belly. Her inner thighs spasmed and quivered beneath the thumbs Roger pressed against her hair-lined vaginal lips. Once again, he dipped and planted a wet kiss on her groin. He tantalized her with eel-like flickings of his tongue, moving downward until he spread the warm, vertical mouth of her pussy and licked the moist coral lusciousness which opened before him. Roger's fingers parted the damp satin-layered cunt, allowing his hungry, devouring mouth complete access to her secret being.
Diane's elbows pressed tightly to her sides and she lolled her head back and forth insanely as Roger's hot, searing tongue shot out, stabbing and encircling her quivering, erected clitoris. His lips sucked, drawing the warm folds deep into the cave of his gently biting mouth, while his tongue continued its maddening licking against the urgent pink flesh.
Dear God, help me, help me! Roger, Roger, has all reason left you? Why do you hate me? Why are you filled with contempt and loathing for me? Why am I no better than the lowest whore to you? Diane groaned huskily deep in her throat as her husband's probing lips licked their way up and down, up and down, the length of her narrow slit, starting at her lower belly and pressuring their way over the elastic rimmed opening of her clasping vagina, into the crevice of her round firm buttocks. There, they stopped momentarily to pay wet flicking homage to the tight pink anus which throbbed there. She couldn't believe it ... but it was happening to her! Involuntarily, she ground her hips down against the hard, unyielding floor and heard herself emit strange animal like purrings from between her tightly clenched teeth.
Roger felt the tantalizing softness of his wife's pubic hair brush against his cheeks as he fed hungrily upon her pussy. He unbuckled his belt and opened his pants completely, then he slipped them down to his ankles. He kicked them off with his shoes. Slowly, he massaged his blood-heavy penis back and forth as he burrowed his face deep into Diane's cunt, his urge to conquer the woman beneath him boiling madly in his veins. For the first time since he had married Diane, he was truly enjoying her; the pleasure he felt almost overwhelmed him. He had not dared to think that such a coup was possible, but now, here she lay, completely at his mercy. It was far beyond his wildest dreams!
He could not help but gloat inwardly as he plunged his tongue into the small palpitating opening of her cuntal mouth and heard her cry aloud. The soft-rimmed flesh tantalized him and he covered the clasping, viscous opening fully with his lips to bring a low guttural groan and a spasmodic closing of her warm thighs around his head. He could feel her tight cuntal hole and squirming crotch and wet, lubricious flesh slip moistly around his long, extended tongue as the walls of her invaded vagina opened to his sucking motion, attempting to ingest his tongue deeper and deeper into it. His nose was mashed to her quivering clitoris, and he hungrily inhaled the pungent, perfumed aroma of her. The delicate piquancy incited his penis until he was afraid he was going to spill his seed that very second.
God! He had to fuck her or he would burst! His cock was throbbing wildly! With a cry building in his muscle strained throat, Roger grabbed Diane's legs behind the knees and climbed upward on her sweat-soaked body, thrusting her calves roughly up over his shoulders. He splayed his hands beside either of her arms and his palpitatingly huge cock slipped teasingly against her drenched, saliva-soaked pubic mound.
He gaped down between their bodies. Her upturned, ivory white buttocks completely enraptured him, and her narrow cunt lips throbbed and expanded beneath the stabbing probe of his concrete hard prick, their wet, pink furrows held apart by the pressure of his thighs. He worked his cock up and down between the ridges to part the soft blonde pubic hair and felt her spasm and shudder.
"I'm going to fuck you right now, bitch, just as if you wanted me to ... even if it's the last time I ever fuck you!"
Diane shut her eyes against the strange, inhuman face which leered down at her, his words unintelligible in her ears. She could sense the fleshy hugeness of his prick lying in her open, quivering channel, jerking and insinuating itself in a rising and sawing motion. She felt its smooth, rubbery head convulse against her soft, sensitive slit until it was adjusted between the lips of her vaginal opening.
"Oh God Roger ... oh why, oh why are you doing ... this to me?" she moaned out helplessly in her agony.
Roger could not control the sadistic desire to torment his wife even further. Even though he had all he could do to keep from instantaneously impaling her soft young pussy upon his aching cock, he could not deny this intention. Shortly he would empty the madly churning seed of his balls into her cunt, but for the moment she was going to have to suffer further, to be forced to realize just how frustrated and rejected he had been for these past two years. She was going to be paid back in full, so help him God!
At long last, Diane felt him force open her vagina with his penis, and winced tearfully at the sudden pain. His weight crushed against her brassiere-encased breasts as he thrust his hips forward, and the elastic snugness of her opening resisted only for a moment from the onslaught of his rape. Then she gave way beneath his harsh, brutal pressure. She emitted a throaty wail.
"Oh Roger ... please ... no, no ... not so hard!" she begged further.
Roger was elated by her painful cry. He thrust again, listening intently for her deeper whines, wanting suddenly to hear her scream for mercy. He rammed forward brutally, felt his balls slap resoundingly down against her twitching upturned buttocks. She ground her hips against the floor in a useless attempt to escape, and her legs jerked wide out on either side of the table, kicking vainly at the air. She screamed!
"Roger! Rooooggggeeeerrrr! Oh God, it hurts! AgggggggAAAAAAAAghhhhh!" she yelled as though her body had been impaled upon some barbaric implement of torture.
His penis tore into her and scraped against the tight, still- unready walls of her vagina. She contracted and squeezed desperately in an attempt to force the alien invader out of her body, and she heard Roger gasp from the sudden clamping of her passage. But still he pushed deeper and deeper into her, forcing the warm, moist cavern of her pussy to yield open to his thundering rod of hardened flesh.
Lying helpless beneath him, tears of pain and humiliation tortured Diane. She felt torn asunder by the physical force of his entry, and the mental brutality of his unnecessarily cruel attack. Worse, she was unable to comprehend whatever inconceivable logic lay behind his actions. But Roger was drunk and in no mood for explanations. He pounded his cock deep up inside her to its hilt until she was sure he was going to pulverize her very inner vitals. It was as if a white hot ram of fire was filling every pore of her stomach, and there wasn't one tiny ridge or crevice which was inviolate from his chunky weapon.
Then his hands went around and began to knead and cup the resilient flesh of her softly mounded ass, and she could feel her skin begin to bruise beneath his rough touch. Roger lay unmoving, his face directly above hers as he caressed her buttocks. She too remained motionless, afraid of the agony it would cause her if she moved with that huge weapon inside her. Silence, save for Roger's ragged breathing, hung between them. Suddenly, then, she felt a throb as his cock jerked upwards in another half-inch of virility.
"Uuuuuhhhh!" she grunted, her face twisted with pain.
"That's right, bitch!" Roger taunted. "Scream for it!" He flexed again.
"AAAAgggggg!" she gurgled, the cords of her body muscles straining. "Oh God, have mercy! Please ... I can't take it!"
"You'll take it, all right!" came the hissed answer. "You'll take all I can give and like it! Hear me?"
She didn't answer, only rolled her head helplessly to one side.
"I asked you a question!" Roger snarled, thrusting savagely into her.
"OOooohhhh, yes, yes!" she cried, afraid now of offending him lest he be crueler and more brutal than he was now. "I'll like it! ... I will ... I will!" she choked, tears welling in her closed eyes as she spat out the lie. Her husband's obscene, lewd actions had forced her to the depths of degradation, and she doubted if she would ever be able to look at herself again with any measure of pride. He had stripped her of her self-respect on this night, and there was nothing left except his gargantuan cock buried deep, deep inside her. She knew that he had sensed her loss of the last remaining ounce of resistance, and clamping his beer- smelling mouth over hers again, he began to rock sideways with a sawing motion of his thighs. The agony within Diane increased, and it was as though her insides were being shredded into a thousand miniscule pieces. She groaned in hopeless defeat beneath him.
Roger thrust in and out with ever-increasing strokes, ignoring her tears and cries of anguish. He seemed to grow bigger and bigger, battering her cervix unmercifully. She was sore and raw and mentally scarred, and Roger felt a frenzied glory as she defensively undulated from his skewering actions. He rampaged against her buttocks, burying his cock again and again inside her decimated vagina. She was his, completely his, a slave in total submission to his every whim. He could do with her what he willed...
"My God! My God! You're ... killing me! Oooohhhh!"
Roger laughed harshly, and as if in answer, stroked more rapidly, hard and fast, battering her quivering, wet pussy. He moved his hands to grasp her smooth, sweat-slick ass-cheeks and pull them closer to his thighs, trying to blend them with his own, his vicious thrusts filling the kitchen with lewd, resounding smacking noises. His breathing came in short, gasping puffs, and his body dripped steaming sweat. He felt a complete loss of all control...
"I'm going to cum!" he shouted wildly. "My God, I'm going to cuuuuummmm!" He groaned as he thrust his cock's full expansion deep inside her wide-stretched vagina, his mouth dropping open and his clutching fingers commencing to jerk spasmodically in an attempt to open her for even one more fraction of an inch of his cock.
"Fuck back! Fuck back! Fuck back!" he blurted. But then the first stream of hot, white sperm began to gush up the tunnel of his cock and surge into the well of her vagina. It burst with the force of a tidal wave, burning into Diane's belly like liquid fire. She could feel the filling, drowning sensation as his flow continued to pulse maddeningly and his cum leaked down the crevice of her buttocks and pooled whitely on her uselessly torn clothing...
And then he collapsed, his demon cock deflating with sudden and complete satiation. Roger fell exhausted across Diane, one arm splayed wide. She stared at his spent body covering her, wondering in utter disbelief how this man, her husband, could have exercised such sick, perversions upon her. Now, in the wake of his played-out passions, shame and revulsion inundated her, and she let tears openly fall from her glazed eyes.
"Why?" she moaned inaudibly. "Why ... why did you do this, Roger? Oh, God, why?"
"You'd never understand," he breathed huskily against her bosom. "What did you ever know about ... a man's feelings? You're the one who forced me to this. And do you know why? Because I'm sick of pleading and coddling you to get what I'm entitled to ... a plain, cooperative piece of ass! I married a statue, not a woman!"
"Don't talk to me like that, you ... you filthy beast!"
"Filthy beast, am I!" He raised up beside her, his face contorted with rage. Diane could see down between his legs and ... his cock had jumped to life again! But that was impossible! How could he have an erection after... She stifled a cry as he pushed his again erect penis into her aching cunt once more. His hot, rejuvenated staff began to hammer her dry and throbbing passage. He made a mirthless, gasping chuckle which mingled with her sobs, and then lost itself in a continuous, inhuman grunting of renewed lust...
Chapter 3
Roger awoke slowly Saturday morning, as if he were gaining awareness by degrees. His temples throbbed agonizingly, and there was a chalky, almost lacquered taste in his mouth. He groaned slightly, raising one hand to shield his tightly closed eyes against the bright, grayish light of dawn which burned against the lids. He rolled onto his side, facing away from the window, and his hand reached out instinctively to search for the warm, pliant body of his wife. It touched only cool, empty sheet.
His eyes fluttered open then, and a nauseous feeling centered in his stomach. Diane? he thought dimly. Diane, where--?
Suddenly, last night came rushing back to him with crystal clarity. He groaned miserably, rolling onto his back again. The sheet slid away from his naked body to expose the satiated limpness of his cock. He lay there, reliving the scene with Marcus Cord in the Pig and Whistle, his subsequent beer-and-lust provoked handling of his genitals during the drive home, his insane bursting into the kitchen with his cock gripped in his hand, his wanton, perverse lust rape of his wife on the kitchen floor...
Oh Christ, I completely lost my head! he thought with personal loathing. I must have gone berserk to have ... have done those things last night! I must be sick... Nobody acts that way, not even when he's denied the love and the gratification he has every right to expect in his marriage. He doesn't turn into a ravaging savage, a primitive Neanderthal. He doesn't force his wife to suck his cock in a pile of broken dishes and scattered silverware, and then go down on her like some demented beast, and then rape her body like a two bit whore...
Roger groaned again and sat up in bed. Fire raged in his temples, and caused red-tinged agony to explode in back of his eyes. How many times had he fucked her, lying there on the kitchen floor? How many times had he ripped into her sweat-slick body, flooding that soft, tight cunt of hers with a reservoir of hot, sticky cum? He couldn't remember, didn't want to remember... But it was all there, vivid, in his mind. And there, too, was the recollection of the feeling of helpless guilt and shame which had finally engulfed him, and the whiningly soft apologies he had begun to whisper into her ears as he gently moved above her. Forgive me, darling, forgive me! he had cried to her, endeavoring to elicit the faintest response of absolution from her. But it had been useless; she had only lain unmoving beneath him, her eyes squeezed shut in horror and degradation, mewling with pain and fear until he had pulled out of her. And when he had lifted her tenderly in his arms and carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed, she had only remained as rigid as a block of beautifully crafted marble. Spent, still a little drunk, he had fallen asleep then with his arm protectively cast across her smooth, sperm-sticky stomach...
Roger swung his feet off the bed and crossed to the closet and put on his heavy terrycloth bathrobe. He wouldn't blame her if she left him now, if she divorced him, even if she brought criminal charges against him. He deserved it.
He went to the bedroom door and opened it. The apartment was silent. Had she already gone? Had she fled the house sometime during the night, gone home to her parents in Menlo-Atherton? Oh God, God...
He went along the hallway and pushed open the bathroom door. The nausea was strong in his stomach now, and not all of it was due to his hangover. He knew he was going to be sick. He leaned over the toilet, and his stomach convulsed; it all came boiling out of him in a rush, but when he was finished, and had rinsed out his mouth, he only felt worse than he had before.
He left the bathroom and opened the door to the kitchen. Diane was there. She sat at the table, staring blankly into a cup of coffee, her blonde hair tousled and her beautiful body encased in a thick chenille robe. She didn't look up as he entered. He stood just inside the door, his eyes moving in surprise over the kitchen expanse. It was spotless! She had cleaned up the broken dishes, the silverware, had waxed the linoleum until it shone brightly and there were no signs remaining of the carnal insanity of the previous night.
Roger's heart went out to her, sitting there so small, so fragile, so defenseless. "Diane--" he began, but her name stuck in his throat. He tried again. "Diane, darling--"
She lifted her head to look at him then, and he felt a cold, viscid chill move along his spine and settle between his shoulder blades. Her eyes were filled with sheer and undiluted contempt, with utter revulsion. "Well," she said in a voice which fairly dripped acid, "Good morning, Roger. I trust you slept well after last night's marvelous evening. I know you had such a lovely time, such a heavenly experience."
"Oh, God, Diane," Roger moaned. "Please, darling, don't make it any worse than it is. You can't know how bad I feel..."
"How bad you feel?" Diane threw back her head and laughed without any trace of humor. "you? And what about me? How do you suppose I feel, Roger? How do you suppose any woman feels after being raped by her own husband, after being forced to perform foul, disgusting acts of perversion, after being a ... a receptacle for pure loveless lust?"
"Diane, I ... I don't know what to say except that I ... I'm- -"
"Sorry? Well, that's just fine, isn't it? You're sorry, and that makes everything all right again. Last night just didn't happen..."
The pain in Roger's head was intense now. He felt anger replace some of the remorse and shame within him at her condescending tone. Who the goddamn hell did she think she was acting so righteous? It was her fault that the whole thing had happened, wasn't it? If she had been a wife, a lover, instead of a cold fish then there would have been no necessity for desperate methods. "Listen," he said in a controlled voice, "just what the hell--"
The telephone rang.
Roger started convulsively at the sudden sound, his eyes turning toward the instrument on the wall near the drainboard. It rang again. Diane brought her gaze back to her coffee and sat motionless, staring into the flowered china cup once more, not caring whether or not the ringing phone was answered.
Roger moved finally, walking around the table to where the phone was situated and lifting the receiver from its hook. He said in a hoarse voice, "Hello?"
"Rog?" a deep, masculine voice asked. "This is Marc Cord."
"Oh ... hi, Marc."
"How are you feeling this morning?"
"Well, I--" Roger began, and then said, "Just fine, Marc, just fine."
"Good, good." Cord's voice took on a conspiratorial quality. "Me, too, if you know what I mean. You remember Millie?"
"Millie?"
"The waitress at the Pig and Whistle," Cord said. "Man oh man, is she something else! She gave me a head job with a vibrator under her chin."
Roger winced. He was unable to answer.
"Listen, the reason I called, why don't you and Diane come on over around noon instead of tonight? We'll make a day out of it. Cindy makes a hell of a rum cocktail."
Roger looked toward the still, rigid figure of his wife. "Marc, I don't think--"
"Bring your swimming suits," Cord interrupted jovially. "It's going to be a hot day over here, and we'll just lie around the pool."
"Marc--"
"See you around noon," Cord said, and rang off.
Roger stood there holding the dead phone. Damn Cord! He never gave you a chance to say anything, to agree or disagree. He just commanded, and you were supposed to jump ... Well, what the hell? Roger thought suddenly. That was how the man had gotten where he was today, wasn't it? That was how he was able to score so easily and so proficiently with the women, wasn't it? Involuntarily, Roger found himself thinking about Cord's words concerning Millie, the Pig and Whistle waitress. He wondered what it would be like to have a woman's soft mouth engulfing his cock, while pressing an electric vibrating massager beneath her chin. Christ, that would be something, all right! He felt his prick leap with a renewed burst of desire beneath his robe...
No, no, he just couldn't think about sexual things this morning, not after what he had done, what he had become, last night! With a small cry, he whirled, putting such thoughts out of his mind. He looked at his wife, still sitting quietly and staring into her cup.
"Diane," he said, "Honey, we ... we've been invited over to Marc Cord's for the day. He wants us there around noon--"
Diane's head jerked up and she glared at him. "I don't care whose house we've been invited to!" she flared. "I'm not going anywhere with you today! I don't want to be seen with you!"
"Honey, please, you don't understand..."
"I'm not going, Roger, and that's all there is to it!"
Roger felt a small tinge of panic. He had to keep that date with Cord today, there was no graceful way he could beg off. And he couldn't go alone. How would that look? No, Diane had to go with him. Cord was the type of man you had to stay on the right side of, the type of man you didn't want angry at you; he was ruthless, and he wouldn't hesitate to ruin somebody who displeased him, who didn't fit in with his plans for advancement.
This General Office Manager's position was what Roger had been hoping for, the big break, the major stepping stone toward full and complete monetary and business security. He couldn't afford to let his wife, or one crazy drunken night, destroy what he had worked and saved and planned so long to achieve.
He sat down at the table next to Diane. "Look, Diane," he said as calmly, as rationally, as he could--even though he was emotionally wrought up inside, "Please listen to me for a moment. Before I ... came home last night, Marc Cord and I had a long talk. He offered me one of the top managerial positions in his section of the company. It's maybe double my present salary-- double! Do you realize what this means, honey? No more duplex living, no more scrimping and saving. We can buy that split-level down the peninsula we've always talked about, we can get you a new wardrobe, a car. We can live in solid comfort."
Diane said nothing, but she was looking at him now.
Roger took this as a positive sign. He went on quickly, "I've got the job, Diane, without reservations. But Marc is a funny sort, and if we don't show up at his place today he's liable to take it as a personal slight. That's the way he is. And he's just as liable to retract his offer, to give that position to someone else. Do you see now? We have to go. I ... I regret what happened last night more than you can possibly believe, and I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to you. So please, honey, please don't let one terrible mistake spoil everything we've always wanted, everything we've built together. Don't let it spoil our marriage. Please, Diane."
There were tears forming in the corners of her eyes now, and he knew his pleading words had had a definite affect on her. She moistened her pale, unmade lips with the tip of her tongue. Then, almost spasmodically, she nodded.
Roger felt a certain elation. "You'll go?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered softly, averting her eyes again. "God knows why, but I'll go."
He stood and went to her and tentatively put his arm about her shoulders. She shrank away. "Don't touch me, Roger!" she said. "Please don't touch me! I'll go with you today, because you're my husband and because I'm not cruel enough to try to hurt you like you've hurt me, but don't expect me to be warm and responsive to you. Not now, not for a long time, maybe ... maybe not ever again!"
She stood abruptly and pushed through the door, leaving Roger alone in the kitchen. He stood by the table, hearing her words in his brain. Don't expect me to be warm and responsive to you. Not now, not for a long time, maybe ... maybe not ever again! He felt a resurgence of the anger he had known just before Cord's telephone call, and he clenched his fists tightly together.
When were you ever warm and responsive to me, you damned iceberg! he thought viciously. Again! That was the key words again! Christ, could she really believe she'd ever been a passionate, normal woman? Could she really put all of the blame for last night squarely on his shoulders?
He repressed the desire to rush in after her and put voice to these thoughts. There was the upcoming day with Marc and Cindy Cord to consider. In the interests of preserving as much harmony as possible, he had best leave well enough alone for now. It wouldn't do for Cord to sense any kind of rift between the two of them. Knowing that bastard, Roger thought, why, it wouldn't be surprising if ... if he tried to move in on Diane!
That thought struck Roger as being rather funny, and he smiled. Wouldn't he be in for a surprise if he did? Wouldn't he, indeed? She'd slap him silly, that's what she'd do. Oh sure, there was that undeniable attraction she had exhibited for Cord's magnetic maleness on that single occasion of their meeting, but knowing Diane as he did, she would never allow--hell, would never even consider--any extramarital fun-and-games. Not with that ice- cold body and mind of hers.
Roger took four aspirin and an Alka-Seltzer for his hangover, and then went in to take a hot shower before dressing to leave for Marcus Cord's.
* * *
The Cord home was near the crest of a sloping, eucalyptus- bordered drive in Peacock Gap--one of Marin County's most affluent communities--just outside of San Rafael. It was constructed of heavy redwood, with a lot of glass and a field-stone facade; long and low and sprawling, it lay nestled back from the road some hundred yards, behind a tastefully landscaped yard that included bottlebrush and Joshua trees. The heady, redolent scent of the Burmese honeysuckle which grew abundantly over an arbored porch filled the warm, balmy afternoon air.
Diane sat with her body pressed tightly against the door on the passenger side of the Plymouth as Roger made the turn into the curving macadam drive. She hadn't spoken since they'd left San Francisco, had simply sat with her hands folded carefully in the lap of her flowery summer dress, staring out through the windshield and not looking at her husband at all. Her mind kept reverting back to the events of last night, to the unspeakable, cankerous indignities she had suffered at the hands of this man whom she had vowed to love and to honor and to cherish until death did them part. Why? she asked herself silently, for perhaps the thousandth time since it had happened. What had turned sweet, kind, gentle Roger Slater, the boy she had fallen in love with, into a savage creature of the primordial jungles? Was it, as he had screamed into her pain-deafened ears in that carnal kitchen, all her fault? No, no, how could he blame her? How could it be her fault? How could he expect her to throw off the shackles of her parentally instilled apprehensions at marital sex practically overnight? Learning to accept, to enjoy, to believe in, physical love took time; and it took patience, trust, love and gentle understanding. God knew, she wanted to be the kind of wife Roger expected her to be. She really did. At least she had until last night. Now ... well, now she wasn't sure, she just wasn't sure. She didn't know what she wanted now at all. She was so confused, so mixed up, so hurt by his violent attack--the final, most outrageous attack in a long series which traced back to her wedding night, and even beyond that to Lookout Drive--that she was still unable to project her thoughts toward any rational conclusion...
Roger brought the car to a stop behind Cord's dark green Jaguar XKE, which was parked before the open doors of a large, separated two-car garage. No sooner had he shut off the engine than Marcus Cord walked around the rear of the house on a crushed shell path. He wore a pair of tight yellow swimming trunks, and his bronzed, hard-muscled body glistened with a recent application of sun oil. His salt-and-pepper hair was damp from swimming, and he carried a tall frosted glass in one hand. Looking at him, Diane felt a small, reflexive shudder of fascination move briefly along her spine. Lord, but he was a handsome, appealing man! She had thought so when she'd first met him that night in front of Roger's office building. He had a certain ... allure which captivated her, which made her somehow want to blush girlishly and avert her eyes. She watched him approach the car, moving easily, with almost feline fluidity, the strong muscles rippling along his thighs and chest, the hard, bas relief outline of his manhood straining at the thin material of his swim trunks...
Diane did avert her eyes then. Self-deprecatingly, she thought: Oh, God, how can I think about Marcus Cord that way, think about his maleness, his attractiveness? How after last night can I ever harbor any physical thoughts about any man?
Cord reached the car just as Roger stepped out. The two men shook hands, and Diane heard Cord say, "Good to see you, Rog boy. How was the traffic coming over?"
"Not bad," Roger answered.
"Hey," Cord said, looking in through the wind-shield at where Diane sat primly on the front seat, "You're not going to leave that beautiful wife of yours sitting in there all by her lonesome, are you?"
"Oh ... no, of course not." Roger came quickly around the car and opened the passenger door. He offered his hand. Diane had a fleeting urge to refuse the proffered assistance, but then she took it and allowed Roger to help her out of the car.
Standing on the macadam, she smoothed the thin cotton material of her dress along her waist and thighs and smiled politely at Cord. Roger said, "You remember my wife, don't you, Marc? Diane?"
"Indeed I do!" Cord was beaming, and Diane felt faintly uncomfortable under his steady, open scrutiny. "How are you, Diane?"
"Just fine, thank you."
"Good, good!" Cord enthused. "Come on around to the pool, kids. I want you to meet my better half." He winked. "Or so she says, anyway."
Diane walked beside Roger, following Cord along the crushed shell path and around to a large, redwood-fenced patio. The path ended in a long, narrow grotto, floored with more of the crushed shells and fronting a green-tiled, L-shaped swimming pool with clear, still water. Three tall eucalyptus tree grew beyond it, just inside that section of fencing.
The grotto contained several brightly colored lounge chairs and chaise longues and two white-metal tables with barber-striped beach umbrellas shading them from center poles. At one of the tables sat a tall, willowy woman with short jet black hair, wearing a brilliant cobalt blue bandanna bikini. A frosted glass identical to Cord's was clasped in one slim hand. She was as bronzed as her husband, with a smooth taut stomach and fine high breasts barely concealed in the narrow strip of her suit top; no whiteness showed at all on the plentiful amount of bare bosom which was exposed. The bottom section outlined the tight, slightly protruding pubic mound, revealed her full rich thighs, and then tucked into the crevice between her globular buttocks, leaving the brown curve of her hips almost completely nude.
That's a rather scandalous outfit, Diane thought critically, a little prudishly. It was certainly much more daring than her own relatively skimpy two-piece paisley swimsuit, which was in the large straw handbag she carried. Why, it shows ... well, almost everything she has; it doesn't leave much of anything to the imagination. Of course, this is her house and her pool and she can dress however she chooses--but it hardly seems the most conventional attire for receiving guests she's never previously met.
The woman stood as they approached, smiling in a bold, easy way. Cord went to her and put his arm about her waist, letting his fingers splay familiarly on the satiny surface of her almost naked hip. "Roger and Diane Slater," he said convivially, "This is my wife, Cindy. The wildest little woman north of the Golden Gate Bridge." He winked at her. "HELL, and south, east and west of it, too!"
Cindy moved her body closer to his approvingly, rubbing her bare flesh against him like a purring cat. Then she stepped forward and took Diane's hand, coolly, briefly. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Slater," she said in a throaty tenor.
"It's a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Cord."
Cindy pivoted her body to Roger and took his hand. "Well, well, so you're Roger Slater," she purred. "Marc's told me so much about you."
Roger grinned. "All of it good, I hope."
"Very good," Cindy said. Her cool gray eyes appraised him in an almost predatory way, and Diane saw that his eyes seemed to be caressing her jutting breasts. They were still touching hands. Roger finally released the clasp, but as if with a great reluctance.
"Well, Rog?" Cord asked. "Can I pick them, or can I pick them?"
"You can certainly pick them!" Roger agreed ardently.
Diane felt uncomfortable. What was the matter with Roger? she thought. He was acting like a school boy, looking at Cindy's exposed bosom like that and holding onto her hand so long. Not that she was any better! "Marc's told me so much about you!" and standing there showing off her body like a common tramp...
She realized Marc Cord was speaking to her, and her eyes flicked up to meet his. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cord," she said. "What did you say?"
"Marc," he answered. "None of this 'Mr. Cord' stuff. Marc and Cindy, Roger and Diane. Okay?"
"Okay."
"What I asked was, did you kids bring your suits? It's a great day for swimming."
"And for drinking rum cocktails," Cindy added, still looking at Roger.
"Sure," Cord said. "And for drinking rum cocktails."
"Well, yes, yes, we did," Diane told him. "Bring our suits, I mean."
"Fine! I'll show you where to change. Cindy'll have a couple of tall ones made for you when you come back. Won't you, honey?"
"Certainly."
Cord, taking Cindy's hand, led Roger and Diane across the width of the patio to where a redwood door was set into a covered sun porch, flanked on both sides by long, bamboo-shaded windows. There was a compact bar at one end of the porch inside, and a large blue-and-gold tweed couch, and several comfortable-appearing chairs. Cindy went immediately to the bar and began to blend rum and Bacardi mix into a tall pitcher. Cord indicated an archway leading into the interior of the house proper, to where a closed door was situated. "Dressing room's in there, kids."
Roger nodded. "Thanks, Marc." And then to Diane, "Come on, honey."
She followed him into the dressing room. When he had shut the door, she took his swimsuit, rolled in a towel, from her purse and handed it to him. Then, she went primly into the partitioned cubicle at one end to change. She saw him scowl darkly as she did--he obviously didn't approve of her modesty--but she certainly wasn't about to strip naked in front of him after last night; especially not when he, too, would be nude. She simply couldn't bare to look at that impossibly huge member of his again, even in a state of flaccidity.
She undressed, folding her summer dress and underthings carefully, and slipped into the paisley two-piece. It fit her snugly, accentuating the firm, generous hills and valleys of her alabaster body. Looking down at her planed stomach and her tapering thighs and calves, she felt a painful vulnerability--as if she were somehow like the almost assuredly wanton Mrs. Cindy Cord. But she forced that consideration from her mind, and stepped out of the cubicle. Even if she wasn't having a good time, she had to pretend that she was enjoying herself; and she couldn't do that if she was constantly worrying about her partially undraped body.
Roger looked at her with critical approbation but said nothing. She allowed him to take her arm, and they went out to the sun porch again. Cord and his wife were sitting side by side on the tweed couch; two frosted tumblers filled with chipped ice sat next to the now-full pitcher on a woven rattan table in front of them.
Cord stood up and favored Diane with a profligate smile as his eyes traveled the width and breadth of her creamy body. He emitted a long, low, appreciative whistle. "Well, now, aren't you something, Diane!"
She blushed under his frank examination. "T-thank you," she said in a faltering tone, lowering her eyes.
"You've got a beautiful, desirable woman there, Rog," Cord said. "You're a lucky man."
"Yes, a lucky man," Roger answered, but there was an undeniable note of bitterness in his voice that was painfully apparent to Diane.
"Let's have a drink," Cindy said, rising from the couch. She poured the two tumblers full of the pale, golden rum concoction.
"Good idea," Cord agreed earnestly. He picked up the full glasses and handed one to Roger and one to Diane. "Drink hearty, kids. There's plenty more where these came from."
Diane tasted hers responsively. The liquid was tart, without much alcohol taste at all, and really very refreshing; she didn't care for liquor much, and she was glad she wouldn't have to pretend to like the drinks, that she could compliment her host and hostess on them genuinely. She noticed that Roger had taken a long swallow from his glass, and was licking his lips. "Very good!" he said enthusiastically, beaming at Cindy.
"Thank you sir," she replied, dimpling prettily.
Cord suggested then that they all go out near the pool. Cindy carried the pitcher of rum cocktails, and they took up residence at one of the white metal tables. The men began to talk business, discussing things like Roger's proposed new duties and advancement possibilities, and the women were soon completely ignored. Diane felt ill at ease, and at first Cindy made little effort to alter her discomfort; Diane noticed that Mrs. Cord's eyes periodically flashed to Roger, as if she were fascinated by him somehow.
Having nothing better to do, Diane finished her drink. Cord interrupted his conversation with Roger to pour her glass full and wink at her. Dutifully, in an effort to salvage something of the afternoon for herself, Diane promptly drank that second drink down immediately--only to have Cord refill the glass once more. The rum began to take its toll, and she experienced at first a general physical loosening of her body; the tenseness left her, and she felt completely relaxed. Then some of her mental cautiousness began to disappear, and, surprisingly, she found herself beginning a conversation with Cindy, telling her how much she liked the house and surroundings. A rapport seemed to build between the two women, and soon they were discussing the latest fashions and what it would be like to take a round-the-world cruise.
Diane finished her third drink, and Cord quickly refilled her glass. She giggled, looking at Roger as she thanked Marc for his graciousness. Her husband's face was slightly flushed, and he was grinning crookedly. She realized that he, too, had had quite a few of the rum drinks. But she didn't care, not at all; she was beginning to enjoy herself now. She felt giddy and light headed, almost carefree. She was glad they'd come. Cindy wasn't half as bad as she had first thought, and Marc Cord was a very nice, very handsome, very urbane man whom she found herself liking more and more.
Roger wiped a hand across his perspiring forehead. "Whew," he said, "is it getting hotter, or is it just me?"
Cord grinned. "A little of both. Why don't you go for a swim, Rog?"
"Good idea. I think I will." He looked at Diane. "Want to come in with me?"
She shook her head, nuzzling her full glass. "Not just now," she answered. She really didn't care that much for the water, and besides, she was too relaxed--almost euphoric--sitting where she was.
"Why don't you join Rog, Honey?" Cord suggested to Cindy. "You look a little warm yourself."
"Hot would be a better word," Cindy said with an inference that escaped Roger, and certainly eluded Diane. She stood up, running her hands provocatively down her smooth, bronzed sides. "Shall we, Roger?"
"After you, fair lady," Roger said gallantly, slurring the words a little.
Cindy trotted over to the edge of the pool and made a shallow, graceful dive into the long end of the L. She surfaced, tossing her wet black hair like a silky, curvaceous jungle cat. "Come on!" she urged Roger, who had padded up to the pool edge and was testing the temperature with one foot. "The water's fine!" She splashed a handful up at him, laughing; he pulled back, grinned lopsidedly, and then surged forward in an awkward, inelegant belly flop. Cindy howled convulsively and splashed him again as he broke surface, spitting water.
She swam expertly over to him and he could feel her body almost touching him as she treaded water. Goddamn, she was a fine, choice piece! I'll bet she's not cold and frigid in bed, he thought. I'll bet she's one hell of a fuck, all right. Cord wouldn't have a cold fish for a wife, not him; he'd have a hot, cock-sucking, wild-fucking woman, that's what he'd have and by God, that's almost surely what he's got!
Roger felt a tingling sensation at the base of his cock as desire coursed through him feverishly. He wanted to reach out to Cindy, to grab her, to .... Oh Christ, calm down, will you, Slater? That's your new boss's wife you're thinking about like that! Ease off. Yeah, and ease off on the booze, too. The last thing you need now is a repeat performance of last night; that would really foul things up beautifully, wouldn't it?
Cindy said, "Come on, Roger, I'll race you around to the shallow end."
"Okay," he answered automatically. Well, there was no harm in that, was there?
"Let's go!"
They set off. Cindy was a good swimmer and won the race easily. She was waiting for him, hands on her hips, as he reached her. Delighted, girlish laughter bubbled from her lips as he struggled through the water, pummeling it almost to a froth with awkward slapping strokes. He gained his feet, only to have Cindy put both of her slim hands on top of his head and duck him under. He reached out involuntarily as he was thrust beneath the surface to grab hold of her slim, firm waist and pull her off her feet. She gasped, flailing out for a moment, and then she too slid beneath.
The water at this shorter section of the L was only some four feet deep, and the formation of the pool hid their bodies partially from view of the grotto. As they thrashed about beneath the water, Roger felt Cindy's hand come in electric contact with his thigh, brushing along it only inches from his crotch. It seemed to linger there for a moment, and then move away. The surge of desire shot through him again, and he had to repress an urge to grasp the firm swelling mounds of her tits and ass as they cavorted. Her touch on his thigh had been an accident, of course ... or had it?
They bobbed up, in water a little deeper so that their heads were almost the only parts of their anatomies visible as they stood on the pool bottom. Cindy was nearly as tall as he, and her eyes were on a level with his. She stood very close to him, her breasts almost touching his chest, her lips parted moistly with the tip of her pink, wet tongue showing.
"Are you having a good time, Roger?" she half whispered.
"Yes," he answered. His voice sounded strangely hoarse. "Yes, I'm having a fine time, Cindy."
"I'm glad. I want you to enjoy yourself."
The inside of Roger's mouth was dry. He wished she wouldn't stand so close to him, so close that he could smell the woman odor of her. Jesus, he had half a hard-on already at the touch of her hand...
"Let's play some more!" Cindy said suddenly, grabbing him and pushing him off balance. Again, they both ducked under. Roger twisted his body, feeling her surge against him, and then ... and then her fingers brushed over the front of his suit, tracing the outline of his cock. They lingered there, massaging gently, gently, caressing with an almost maddening slowness that sent wild, burning ripples of passion flooding through his belly and brought his prick leaping into instant erection...
Roger's mouth opened in a reflexive gasp, and pool water poured into his throat, gagging him. He coughed spasmodically, fighting his way to the surface, spitting and hacking. Cindy came up with him, standing very close to him now, the hot firebrands of her near-naked breasts touching his chest. "Did you like that, honey?" she breathed.
"L-like what?" he managed confusedly.
"Oh come on now," Cindy purred. "You know what I mean."
"No, n-no, I..."
"This," she said, and suddenly her hand was on his hardening penis again, stroking it lightly beneath the water. She chuckled huskily. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Roger honey. Pretending you didn't know what I meant when I just made that lovely cock of yours as hard as granite. You really do have a big one, too. I was hoping you would."
Roger's brain reeled. He couldn't believe this was happening! Cord's wife ... playing with his prick ... saying words which could only mean one thing, that she wanted him to fuck her ... Jesus, her fingers on him were like broiling hot irons, inflaming his loins until lust consumed his very being...
His eyes flew guiltily toward the grotto, where Diane and Cord were still sitting at the white metal table. They weren't looking this way now, but if Marc should see what was going on... There was no telling what he would do! Surely, he would never give him, Roger, that promotion; he might even become violent...
Cindy's nimble, burning fingers continued to caress his rigid shaft, sliding down to oscillate back and forth across his swelling balls as she ground her soft tits against his chest. Her lips were parted, and she kept running her wet, hot tongue back and forth across them; her breath was fervid and sweet and ragged in his face, her eyes lidded with her own sensual appetites.
Roger knew he should pull back away from her, end this impossible scene before it reached the point of no return--but the salacious pleasure of her expert ministrations rendered him frozen, incapable of motion. What's the matter with her? he thought wildly. She must be crazy! Some kind of nymphomaniac! Playing with a man's cock less than a hundred feet from her husband, a man she's only just met...
"I'm going to take it out now," Cindy panted into his face. "I want to hold your big thing in my hand, honey."
"Jesus Christ, Cindy--" he wheezed.
"It's all right, honey, don't worry."
"What about Marc? What about my wife...?"
"They can't see us from where they are," Cindy moaned. "Just relax, honey, relax and enjoy it."
Dexterously, her fingers slid upward to pull back the waistband of his trunks, back and down until his blood-raged member burst out and into the warm palm of her hand. She held it claspingly for a moment, making little animal sounds of abandoned joy deep in her throat, and then she began to stroke it gently, pushing the foreskin back, running her fingernails along the base of his cock, along the bloated sac of his balls. Roger felt the exquisite thrill of her manipulations bursting through his body, and suddenly he didn't care any more; he didn't care if Cord saw them, or if Diane saw them, or if the whole goddamned world saw them. The only thing that mattered was Cindy, luscious, beautiful, desirable Cindy with her hand playing with his genitals under the water...
"Slide your trunks down all the way, honey," Cindy breathed. "Hurry!"
He obeyed mindlessly, pulling them down as fast as he could. She cupped his balls in her hand now, rubbing them back and forth, squeezing them very gently, making the cum build hot and explosive in his scrotum. He looked down at her hand through the wavy translucence of the water, watching her, reveling in the searing sensations of lewd enchantment. Suddenly, he saw her tug at the bottom of her own suit, pushing it down to expose the dark black silky triangle of her pubic mound, down over her bronzed thighs. And then she was moving forward, guiding him toward the edge of pool with her hand on his cock, turning so that her back was pressed against the tile lip.
"Do you want to fuck me, Roger, honey?" she whispered against his ear. "Do you want to put your cock in my cunt?"
"Yes!" he moaned. "Yes, yes!"
"All right, baby, all right."
She leaned back against the tile, bracing her body against it, bringing her legs up through the water and spreading them to encircle his waist. Then she steered his cock to her until he felt the swollen head touch the pubic hair and soft butter-like lips of her cunt. She moved the head up and down along her pink slit, undulating her hips in the water in a circular motion as she locked her legs tighter about him.
"Do you want me to put it in now?" she teased.
"Yes, goddamn it, put it in, put it in!"
As if in obeyance, she thrust herself forward, skewering herself on his gigantic rod, burying it almost to the hilt in the warm, lubricious folds of her pussy. He gasped, and she gasped simultaneously, her hips still rotating, her hands coming up to grip him under the arms.
"Jesus Christ!" he said. "Oh Jesus Christ, Cindy!"
"Fuck me!" she hissed against his ear. "Roger honey, fuck me, fuck me!"
He dropped his hands to the quivering, oscillating moons of her buttocks, his fingers digging into the hot flesh. He began to fuck into her with long, hard lunges that received a momentum from the very depths of his toes. He felt an absolute power take hold of him in that moment, and he kneaded her ass with sadistic delectation. Harder and harder he drove his burgeoning shaft into her cunt, feeling her skewered on him in total subjection. He could feel the soft fleshy ridges deep inside her giving way before the relentless onslaught of his rampaging masculinity.
"Ooooooohhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned against his ear, breathing liquid fire into the orifice. "Aaaaaa gggggghhhhhh, that's it, honey, that's ittttttttt!"
He strained his cock forward with all the strength of his hips and thighs, reveling in the forbidden act of which he was a part, deriving further sensations of lasciviousness from the knowledge of the nearness of his wife and his future boss. Oh God, oh Jesus, she was great, Cindy was beautiful, she was the best fuck he had ever had...!
She was moaning softly, incoherently now, her smooth velvety legs enveloping his waist in a death grip, her hips churning the water around them. The satiny folds of her vagina held him, squeezing tightly around his rigid column, milking it already of its first tentative dribblings of seminal lubrication. He knew she could feel every inch, every muscle and curve of his prick as she screwed her buttocks up tight against his pelvis. The bloated sac of his sperm-laden balls was pressed hard into the wet, wide- stretched crevice below her vaginal lips, and the soft, hair- covered skin danced maddeningly against the sensitive outer rings of her tiny, working anus. Shivers of wanton delight made her fuck him even harder, even more wildly.
There was nothing else in the world, the universe, for Roger at that very moment. He didn't see Marc and Diane stand in unison at the white metal table in the grotto, he didn't see her waver unsteadily, he didn't see Cord take her arm with a sly backward glance lead her toward the sun porch. Even if he had seen that, he wouldn't have cared. The only thing that existed for Roger Slater then was the boiling, surging flood of hot cum which was only seconds away from eruption in his ballooned testicles.
"Ooooooohhhhhhhh yessssssss, fuck it hard, baby, fuck it hard, fuck it hard, give it to meeeeeee!" Cindy wailed into his ear, her hips like a separate entity now, an entity gone mad as she twisted and contorted, opening her legs around his waist, squeezing them closed, endeavoring to ingest even more of his pistoning shaft into her belly.
Suddenly, she cried out, "Ohhhhh, God, baby, I'm ... almost there, I'm ... yes, yessssss, yessssssssss, aaaaaagggggggghhhhhh!"
Her body heaved toward his as the first delicious throes of her orgasm rocketed through her, spurring him on, locking him in. In that moment, he felt his own cum boil over, explode along the passage within his cock and burst from the widened opening in the glans like a volcanic eruption, flooding her inner cunt walls, the very core of her rapidly undulating belly, with surge after surge of the fiery white semen. She was mewling with total surrender, total lust-satiation, urging him incoherently never to stop filling her cunt with his wonderful hot seeds...
Finally he collapsed forward against her, pushing her back against the tiled edge of the pool. His prick began to deflate then, and slid out of her, trailing long sinuous strands of his cum like thin white sea kelp from her cunt. She stroked his face, smothering it with hot moist kisses. "Oh Christ, Roger, baby!" she breathed. "It was great, wasn't it? I just knew it would be!"
"Yes ... yes, it was," Roger muttered. Half dazed by the tumultuous fucking he had just given, and in turn received, his eyes strayed dimly toward the grotto. For the first time, he saw that it was empty. "Diane ...?" he began. "Where did she and Marc ...?"
Cindy reached down to stroke his now flaccid prick gently. "Don't worry about them, honey. They're inside the house, where they can't see us."
Numbly, Roger nodded. It didn't occur to him in the aftermath of his satiated flesh to inquire why his wife and Marc Cord had gone into the house. Even now, the only thing that seemed to matter was this wild, wanton woman he had just screwed.
Cindy said, "Come on, honey, let's get out of the pool and go lie in the sun."
"What for?" he asked.
She laughed softly. "Because I think I can get you another hard-on, that's why. You'd like to fuck again, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," he answered. "God, yes!"
"If you're a good boy," Cindy giggled, rubbing his deflated penis lightly with the tips of her fingers, "I might even suck you off. Would you like me to suck your big cock, Roger?"
He felt his limp prick give a convulsive leap at the sound of her words, come half-erect again in her hand. She kissed him passionately. "See?" she said. "I told you I could make it hard again."
He heard himself say the words he was then thinking, "Oh Christ, Cindy, I want to lick your cunt. I want to lick your cunt while you suck my cock!"
Her hand tightened on him. "Then let's go!" she said, and, still holding onto his genitals, she led him to the tile steps at the shallow end of the pool.
Chapter 4
"The pitcher is empty, little girl," Marc Cord said, smiling and lifting the heavy cut crystal decanter for her to see.
Diane, her mind fuzzy from the rum, stared at it. "And I was almost ready for a refill." The sun sparkled off the glass, making her wince. Her whole physical being seemed to satisfyingly relax in the warm rays of the sun. She could have sat there forever...
"Come on," Marc urged, standing up. "Keep me company while I make some more."
She smiled up at him. He was really quite a man, she thought. Pure, raw, male animal, and she was ... well, sort of attracted to him. Not that she was going to do anything about it, of course. She was married, and so was he. Hands off! Private property! But that didn't stop her from helping him mix some more rum cocktails, did it? Not at all!
"Love to," she replied. She rose unsteadily, and Marc took her arm. She accepted his assistance gratefully; with all the liquor she'd drunk and the soporific effect of the sun, she doubted she could make it to the door without it.
She giggled and took her empty glass as they walked to the sun porch. Marc opened the door and waited for her to enter. He led her to the tweed couch, and, in spite of her apprehension, she sat down and clasped her hands in her lap. He continued to talk of generalities as he crossed to the bar and opened the small refrigerator for more ice. Diane leaned back on the cushions, her mind drifting, hazy from the alcohol, and let his warm voice flow through her. She enjoyed the way he talked. He was so pleasant, almost like a brother rather than the ruthless ogre her husband had made him seem like. Well, Roger was wrong: Marc was not all that dangerous, all that terrible.
She leaned forward and for the first time noticed the hard- cover portfolio on the rattan table in front of her. The jacket had the gold embossed title: "Studies of Love". She touched the cover, afraid and yet a little curious as to what it might contain; but her inquisitiveness finally won out. She raised the cover and gazed at the first picture.
It was in full color, obviously taken by a skilled photographer. It depicted two people making love, their faces contorted in rapture. Diane gasped in sudden embarrassment and looked quickly over at Cord, who was still blandly mixing the new pitcher of rum cocktails and talking about the weather they had in Marin County, evidently oblivious to her knowledge of the portfolio.
Hypnotized by the carnal activity in the photo, Diane studied the photo, for she had never seen a picture of two people making love before, and it looked strange to her. She wondered if this was the way she and Roger looked, with the almost crab-like splaying of arms and legs. Then she turned to the next one, which was of a man having his penis sucked by a beautiful blonde woman. She thought of the night before, of her with Roger's member in her mouth; but the differences were obvious. The woman in the picture was enjoying it, her mouth stretched wide and her lips locked around it in an oval as though they would never release their prize. A ripple of secret desire coursed through Diane as she looked at the man's hardened penis, for it was even larger than Roger's, and she wondered how the woman could take it all without choking. She clenched her thighs together at the idea of having such a monster even between her legs, then quickly turned to the third photo. Just as explicitly this one showed the woman flat on her back on the floor, her knees drawn up to her breasts. The man was kneeling between her thighs, his tongue parting her pubic hair and curling in the wide pink slit of her vagina. Diane gaped at the obscene sight, and a small gasp of shock escaped her lips.
"You like them, Diane?" came a smiling voice which made her jump, and a hand appeared with a fresh drink for her.
"Well ... well, no I don't. Not really." She took the drink from Marc and a quick swallow in a vain attempt to hide the fact that she was blushing. She looked at Cord, thought, and saw that there was an amused expression on his face.
"Don't be so sure, Diane. Even I enjoy looking at such things occasionally."
"You don't mean that you ... approve of what those people are doing, do you?" she blurted incredulously. "They're like ... animals!"
"Who can tell what should or shouldn't be done in passion? It's a very strong emotion. Everybody needs passion to make themselves happy, don't they? To make the person they love happy?"
"Of course," she agreed. "But doing ... doing such perverted acts can't be a part of that happiness."
"No? Well, I think the couple in the photos made each other happy."
Diane felt confused. She knew she shouldn't have had that last drink, and even though she felt that she was right, she wasn't in any condition to be arguing morality--or anything else. She blinked heavily trying to clear her mind of blurred thoughts, thoughts of the previous night and her unwilling initiation into sexual deviations. Roger had always seemed satisfied with her, at least most of the time, but she did have to admit she was unknowledgeable about certain things. Did it really take such acts to hold a man? No, of course not. How could she consider such a perverted idea? It was evil just to think of things like that, much besides lower oneself to perform them. Or ... was it? For the first time in her life, Diane seriously began to question her frozen values, wondering if she really didn't know what a man wanted or needed physically. She tipped the glass again, her throat parched from embarrassment and nervousness.
"You're really going at that rum," Cord said.
"Mmmmm," she replied. "These are good." Despite the heavy commitment she had toward her inbred code of morals, Diane began to feel faint stirrings of arousal once again churn her body. Moisture seeped between her legs, and she pressed her thighs tightly together and moved her buttocks against the rear of the sofa in a vain attempt to quiet the lascivious tingling. "I ... I think maybe we'd better go back outside, Marc. Perhaps Roger and Cindy are waiting for us."
"Oh, I doubt that," Marc said, and Diane detected a sudden change in his voice. "I saw them as I was making the drinks."
She frowned. "What do you mean, together?"
Cord, his lips pursed and his forehead furrowed, walked around from the back of the couch and sat down beside Diane. He looked straight at her. "I mean we have a situation on our hands, Diane," he said seriously, "One that isn't as academic as the photos you were looking at." He dipped his eyes and peered into his drink, then rotated the glass in his hand. "I don't know how to put this, Diane, but--well, I've known for some time that Cindy has been playing around, and..." He paused, shaking his head in a mixture of pathos and anger. "Well, maybe you had better look for yourself."
He took her hand and she rose, still confused as to what he was talking about. He led her around the couch and over to the bamboo-blinded window and drew aside the curtain.
"Look," he said. "Over there, by the shallow end of the pool."
Diane took one quick glance, and suddenly she felt as if she would scream. Instead, she raised the glass to her lips in convulsive horror and swallowed heavily, thirstily, not tasting the liquid at all. "Oh no ... no!" she gasped as she lowered the almost empty glass. "Oh ... my God, I don't believe it! No, no, no!"
What she had seen was Cindy lying spread-eagle on a large, fluffy towel, completely nude, rolling her head in contorted ecstasy and Roger, kneeling between her naked legs, running his tongue moistly up and down her bronzed body. He paused to suck her nipples to hardened points, and then traced a wet hot path down to the flat plane of her stomach and inner thighs. Cindy's hands were tangled in his hair, her expression that of a woman possessed.
Diane leaned against the window sill, unable to move. "I ... I don't believe it!" she gasped again.
Cord snorted slightly and folded his arms across his broad chest. "Good God, Diane, it's plain to see! They're making love."
Diane tried to blot out the horrid scene in front of her. Dear God! There had to be a reason, a logical explanation! How how could her husband, her Roger, be ... be...
Cindy was at fever pitch. Her mouth hung open with ecstatic rapture and her glassy eyes stared at nothing but her own inner lust. Roger positioned himself with his mouth over her pubic mound, his fingers splayed on her belly and his thumbs on the outer lips of her vagina. Diane sucked in her breath as she watched Roger part the soft patch of pubic hair and expose the other woman's moist red slit, then drop his head over Cindy's desire-writhing cunt. Cindy's body jerked as if struck by lightning, and her thighs clamped over Roger's ears in a vise-like grip, her hips beginning to move with the rhythm of his slavering tongue.
Diane was completely absorbed in the horrible lewdness being performed before her eyes. She gaped in disbelief, but her own body began to involuntarily sway in time to that of Cindy's undulations as her husband continued the nerve-shattering licking of the woman's widespread vaginal slit. Then Diane realized that Marc was speaking again. She wrenched her mind back to where she was, asked: "What? What did you say?"
"I said that I'm going to mix another drink, Diane. We could both use another." He took her glass.
Almost mesmerically, Diane's eyes returned to the fantastic sight in front of her. All she cared about, all she saw in her mind, were the two naked writhing bodies on the towel.
Roger's fat stump of a cock had protruded into view, now. It was enormously thick, and for a sudden, crazy second Diane wondered how she had ever taken him all, and then she was further transfixed by the thought that she was now going to see her husband making love to another woman.
But Roger worked his way up Cindy's sweat-soaked body and straddled her breasts. Diane could see his penis standing out from his belly, its scarlet head but a few inches from Cindy's gasping opened mouth. Roger reached back with one hand and moved his middle finger down the already wet pink folds of her wide stretched pussy, then plunged his finger to the third knuckle into the waiting, lust-quivering hole. He rotated it around, pumping in mock copulation, and Cindy squirmed and pushed against the exquisite digital torture. She flicked her tongue out and rubbed it along the underside of Roger's swollen shaft, then encircled the head, bathing it, kissing the dilated opening. She strained forward, her neck muscles clearly visible and closed her lips like an elastic band around Roger's turgid cock. She took it deep, and Roger leaned forward and began a rocking motion, a grin of animal passion wide across his face.
He's too big! Diane thought, fascinated with horror as Cindy's convoluted lips sucked as though she had waited forever for that magic moment. Her cheeks hollowed on the out-stroke and filled on the in-stroke with a puckered hunger whose very lustiness made Diane cringe. God! He's going to make her suck him until he ... he cums! He's going to flood his hot sticky sperm until he drowns her in it! He's going to ... to drown her!
Cord appeared, standing close to her, so close that his trunks touched the backs of her naked thighs. The touch was electrifying to her and she whirled suddenly to him, wide eyed, charged with a combination of licentiousness and loathing. "What ... what ...?" she began haltingly, afraid to look into Marc's eyes but accepting automatically the fresh drink he offered her.
"What do you think we should do, Diane?" Cord asked calmly. "The man out there is your husband, remember, and he's on top of my wife and she's sucking the living hell out of him."
"You don't have to be so ... so graphic!"
"At a time like this, you're worried about that? Don't you care what's happening out there?"
"Of course I do! It makes me sick!" she shot back at him thickly.
"Then ... don't you think there ought to be reprisals?"
Diane stared at him. She searched his eyes and saw an almost lecherous response. "I--I don't understand."
"Simple. An eye for an eye." Marc licked his lips. "A wife for a wife."
Diane felt her stomach lurch and a clamminess crept across her body. She stiffened. Marc continued to look at her, a smile creeping across his handsome features. "Does that idea sicken you so much?"
Diane's brain whirled. "Two wrongs don't make a ... a right. Who do you think I am, making a proposition like that? A whore?"
Marc placed his hand on her bare stomach. Diane couldn't deny in her liquor-numbed mind that his touch sent a thrill through her, already being aroused from the obscene display on the patio, but that didn't change the fact that she was married, nor that her entire upbringing had prepared her to be repulsed by this ... this filth!
"Stop, Marc!" she moaned, pulling back from his hand. "Please, stop it!" She turned her head from his gaze, but in so doing her eyes once more feasted upon the carnally locked couple on the towel.
Roger jerked his cock suddenly from Cindy's mouth and he moved downward again, then slightly to one side, his hands racing over the firm, but yielding bronzed flesh. He pulled her legs wide and parted the petal-like lips of her cunt, and then crawled between them. Cindy reached between their legs and grasped the blunt, fiery pole of his penis and with a twisted look of passion, sunk his cock deep into her dark, waiting hole of lust. Her whole body twitched and leapt with abandon as their bellies smacked together and Roger cupped the trembling moons of her ass and strained to push his cock further in.
Diane stood motionless as her husband began the slow grinding of each long stroke, and for some reason instead of the utter revulsion she expected to feel, there was a peculiar twittering quiver deep between her thighs. She closed her eyes and pressed back against Marc's chest, but still the vision of Roger's gleaming cock, moist the full length from Cindy's lips, raced through her mind.
Suddenly, Cord's hand snaked around her, and she felt her right breast slowly being massaged through the flimsy material of her bikini top. She was momentarily powerless to stop it. Then the suit was raised and her full, slightly quivering breast was free, its nipple hard against the sudden rush of air. Diane uttered a moan as Marc's thumb worked the rigid bud, and pleasure shot the full length of her body.
"He's fucking my wife," Cord whispered provocatively into her ear. "Did you see him?"
"Yes, oh yes," Diane mumbled back in a daze, the lewd word strangely exciting to her.
Marc continued to play with her exposed tit, grinding his pelvis tightly into hers. He slid his other hand down around the soft roundness of her buttocks. Her body stiffened in panicked realization of what was happening.
"Oh, no, Marc, we can't ... we can't do this!"
"Why not? Your husband's fucking my wife isn't he?"
"Oh no, please don't do this to me!" she pleaded, her eyes tearing with the salt of anguish.
Cord lowered his head and completely engulfed her soft lips with his, and his tongue darted out to slip between her teeth. An uncontrollable tremor surged through her, her mouth opening to the pillage of his onslaught, her entire being relaxing against him. He held her closer, his big hands hot and moving as they pressed the spheres of her smooth, firm buttocks to his now bulging trunks, forcing her groin to grind against his swelling cock.
"Stop, Marc!" Diane mewled, "Oh no ... no ... no!" She squirmed away from his grip. "I don't know what we can do about ... about that ... outside, but it can't be this! I'm not some ... some slut you can ... can take at will."
"I know you're not, Diane," Cord breathed into her ear as he closed in again, his hand returning to her waist as he drew her to him with powerful arms once more. "But I plan to repay your husband's generosity in the best way possible."
His hands began to fondle the tight, cloth-encased cheeks of Diane's buttocks. Momentarily she struggled, but then she realized the total futility of the situation. She couldn't scream, couldn't run... He kissed her hotly, and his right hand came up from her hips and massively closed over her still exposed right breast, absorbing its cool, full flesh as though she were a budding child.
"Oh ... oh ... oh ...!" she cried, suddenly alive with livid sensations. His hands, his tongue, his whole enveloping body began to enflame her, and she gasped from the wantonness and craving which was rapidly overtaking her. Marc's hand traveled teasingly over her whole body, touching her breast, her stomach, her thigh ... her inner thigh ... then the narrow secretion band of her suit bottom. Yes! Yes! Oh God, his fingers felt good; They were so soft and warm and agonizingly close!
A low purring of arousal escaped from her lips, and she breathed heavily, the blood hotly coursing through her veins. Cord smiled down at her, and then began to lead her gently away from the window and back to the couch. "'Yes, baby, yes," he crooned. "We're going to really make it."
Gently, he pushed her down on her back on the couch, and she rubbed her legs along the cushions, undulating her thighs from the building passion. She raised her arms to Marc in almost drugged supplication, and he in turn kneeled beside her. His searing mouth and tongue pressed hard against her pliant, now-willing lips. His hands continued to play along her skin, slipping up and down her inner thigh, brushing against the burning, vibrant mound of her soft, young pussy.
"Oh, Marc ... oh Marc, please don't ... ohhhhhhh!" she moaned. His fingers slipped up inside the narrow leg band of her bathing suit, and she cringed at the devilish touch. Her mind tried to preserve the vestiges of her principles, her concepts of morality, even as her body betrayed her with prurient desire.
Then Cord, unheeding her final, weakened pleas of mercy, fingered the rich valley of her cunt, stroking the hair-covered ridges and burrowing deep to slide around the already blood- engorged clitoris. She involuntarily raised her hips, rotating her sex-hungered thighs in helpful deliberation, spreading her legs so he could wander between her thighs at will. Her arms were wrapped around his neck tightly and she whimpered into his ear. trailing hot, moist kisses across his face while slowly, surely, he insinuated his teasing fingers into the moist folds of her warm, slavering vaginal orifice.
Oh ... God ... this ... this is wrong ... all wrong! her brain screamed to her, but caught in the emotional agony of sensual desire, she could only groan and bite her lip. Cord parted the sensitive slit of her cunt and teased the soft, surrounding pubic hair as he made sudden, ecstatic contact with her throbbing clitoris. Diane sensed her own deep wetness from her unwanted passion and the electrifying shock of his caresses. He began to remove her suit pants, to edge them down over her full, well shaped thighs and hips, to worm insidiously the last defense from her deliriously pulsating pussy. Abruptly, the cool air upon the pubic hair of her groin triggered the last defiant rejection of his maddening probe.
"Stop it! Stop it!" she cried, thrusting her hands against his heavy chest and writhing and kicking, trying to push him away. "Oh, for God's sake, get off me! Let me up!"
"Goddamn it!" Marc pressed tighter, refusing to remove his middle finger and continuing the outrageous rampage of her tender, sensorial cunt. "It's too late for us to stop, baby. I've tried to be patient with you, to make it nice and enjoyable, but one way or the other I'm going to do just what I said. I'm going to fuck you, baby." He leered hotly down at her, eyes flashing with the uncontrollable lust of sexual frenzy. "Your husband's out there fucking my wife, and if you don't cooperate in return, baby, I'll fire him on the spot. Understand? You and I get together, and Roger will get his promotion, but if you don't..."
His threat was clear to Diane in spite of her confused, liquor-dazed mind. She realized that she was in a horrible mess, with no way out. There was nothing she could do, nothing ... oh Roger, Roger, what shall I do? Tears of humiliation and debasement showered down her face, and with sudden revulsion she realized that in her helplessness her hips were once more grinding up in response to the tantalizing play of Marc's maddening finger reinserted inside her vagina. Her lower torso reacted uncontrollably to his ministrations in a cadence with her quivering clitoris and wet, writhing vaginal slit.
"Make up your mind!" he said suddenly. "What's it going to be?"
Her reply caught in her throat. If she cooperated, he could take any indecent and licentious liberties with her she rationalized ... but at least Roger would have his position secured. And then ... maybe after some time had passed, she could repair the damage of their lives and this would be forgotten in the passages of their future happiness. But dear God, if Marc should fire him as he promised ... well, she hated to think what that would do to Roger, to the two of them, to whatever they might have left. "Oh ... oh ... yes, yes I'll do it!" she hissed between clenched teeth, her body surrendering completely.
Cord smiled triumphantly to himself and moved his bronzed body farther over her, and kissed her hotly, his giant tongue slipping deeply inside her mouth as his hand caressed her now wide open loins. Diane moaned beneath him, fighting vainly to maintain control of her body as the electrifying jolts of his massaging fingers began to seethe through her very essence. She felt him raise her up and unclip the brassiere snap, and closing her eyes she hunched her shoulders in automatic assistance. And then he removed the bathing suit halter and lowered it to the floor. Her throbbing alabaster breasts with their distended nipples were completely exposed and with an appreciative gasp, Marc rolled his hands over them, kneading and squeezing the nipples between his fingers and thumbs. Then his slavering lips encompassed one aureole, his tongue flicking and rolling the jewel-hard nipple maddeningly.
"I'm going to make you naked all the way now, baby," he said throatily. "Help me."
Diane clenched her eyes tightly shut in lewd surrender and raised her hips, and strained her back as he slid the last sheath of suit down over her writhing buttocks. It was suddenly as if bonds had been dropped from her body, for the feeling of being totally naked before the hungry eyes of a strange man was both deliciously decadent and wonderfully evil. Unconsciously she flexed her warm, damp pussy toward the cool air, and her pubic hair almost stretched from its imprisonment inside the suit. She played her hands down her sides with abandonment, mewling and sighing with abject licentiousness. She spread her ivory columned legs and tightened her stomach muscles, her eyes still mercifully shut to her shameless actions.
Oh Roger ... oh Roger ... can you ever forgive me... And then came the flashing realization that she had nothing to apologize for to Roger, not as long as he was ... was fucking .... that word! but yes, it was fucking she meant ... fucking that woman outside. She opened her eyes and stared at the man above her, then widened them still further as she realized he had removed his own bathing suit. He was standing over her, a salacious grin twisting his features, his hand stroking the heavy, uncircumcised foreskin of his corpulent, blood-pumped penis back and forth over the hard, bulbous head. Good God! No woman could take all that! It would rip her insides open!
"Roger this big, baby?" Marc taunted, his eyes cruelly gleaming. "Well, you just wait until it's all stuffed up in your belly and then compare!"
She couldn't stop staring at his obese cock, and at the sight of her own naked body helpless beneath it. She was filled with shame, and it further dawned on her that her husband's boss was actually enjoying this torture, was reveling in this cruel debauchery of her soul.
"We'll teach that damned husband of yours to fuck my wife," he continued, tormenting her further, watching the twisted contortion of her fear-ridden features. Again, Diane felt the hot tears dribble from her eyes, and she knew that Marc would brook no mercy. She hardly heard his filthy words, her mind too occupied with the hopelessness of her situation and the horrifying distress of knowing Marc was as wanton as her husband. Dear Lord, there was nowhere to turn for help, nowhere to save herself from the ravishment which awaited her! She was alone. How could she have ever thought of this man as a brother, as someone safe?
Yet even as she groveled in the acute sense of terror, the slight traces of desire began to amplify through her momentarily dormant senses. She rose to meet his body as he dropped on top of her, the hardness of his thick, pulsating penis gouging her soft flesh of her belly, his huge hands once more prowling over her full, erect breasts. She whined from the combination of desire and pain, and then their lips closed upon one another, their tongues twisting and stabbing deep into their respective mouths with mounting lust.
"You're going to beg me for it when I'm through," Marc promised. "You're going to cry with ecstasy, baby, so help me!"
He moved down her undulating body with wild, licking strokes of his tongue, until his head was just above her defenselessly spread thighs.
"Oh, no, Marc ... not that, please not that!"
The remembrance of the night before and Roger's drunken kisses upon her unprotected vagina returned to Diane with vivid clarity. She clenched her small fists together, her arms tight against her ribs and tried to close her legs from Cord's assault. Her vibrant, naked flesh crawled with the idea of the impending perversion, but the palms of his hands were already against the inner flesh of her thighs and were spreading them apart ever further. She raised her head as Marc gazed hungrily down at the warm pink slit fringed so delicately with its soft, golden pussy hair ... Diane whimpered. She, too, could see how her body betrayed her, for her coral flesh was tinged with tiny, glistening droplets of desire, and the glistening, petal-like lips of her cunt almost cried out to the leering face of the lust-inflamed man above. She watched petrified as slowly, deliberately, Marc spread her secret shame-filled vagina with his thumbs and dropped his lips to kiss the enchanted area.
"Ooooooohhhh, Marc, ooooooo!" she groaned, but the only response from him was to snake his long, teasing tongue against her defenseless genitals. Her body lurched against the bestial outrage, her stomach churning in horror and humiliation as his lapping tongue slithered around her open pussy lips. She begged in her shame for him to stop his violent assault, yet he only labored faster, his mouth and tongue making wet, obscene licking sounds which filled the room with their lewd echoes of abandoned carnal desire. And then again in horror, the unwanted sensations of pleasure pervaded her body, and her quivering cunt dilated with total surrender to his scurrilous defilement. His hands moved back to her breasts and clenched them almost brutally, the apex of his actions designed to collapse her young pride and morals. She tried to pull her eyes from his wildly moving head and grasping hands, but she only continued to stare as he sucked insanely at her open vagina, the desperation of trying to keep the blissful palpabilities from being acknowledged by every vein, muscle and cord of her subjugated body.
Suddenly his tongue found her erect, pulsing clitoris, and he explored it as she whined in agonized pleasure. He took the tiny button between his teeth and nipped it, running the tip of his tongue over it. Diane moved her head back and forth, flailing her hair and cried out with animal ecstasy, gripping the edges of the couch with straining hands. Cord opened the hungry vault of his mouth and lowered his tongue to the heated, throbbing cavern of her vagina; as he orally fucked her, he heard the gurgling and mewling sounds from her lips. He swirled his tongue and surged it in and out of her clasping cunt, then drew her legs up and slid his arms underneath so that his shoulders were wedged between her thighs. He clutched her tight, satiny buttocks with both hands and shifted them closer to his questing lips.
She howled from the searing delight which rose from the liquid depths of her pussy, and she reached desperately for him, her hands fighting to rid herself of the thrusting, pulsating tongue sunk so deep between her legs. Then they suddenly dropped their futile battle and tangled themselves wildly in his hair and pulled his mouth still further into her.
She was his now! Marc Cord gloated to himself, relishing the fact that this tender young morsel of a wife was his to play with, to subjugate, use discard ... fuck ... however his mood struck him. He dropped his mouth still lower and poked his tongue into the tiny hole of her anus. The crude, forbidden act plunged Diane into never before realized raptures, and the seething contact of his lips to her asshole made her scream with erotic delight. She closed her eyes and let herself become lost in the sensual pleasure which surged through her love-starved nerves. She rolled her hips and screwed her rectum onto his stiffened tongue, the goose-flesh raising on her quaking belly and heaving breasts.
"Ohhhh, Marc, love me ... love me!" she heard herself plead, her shame gone beneath the overpowering conquest of his lickings. She had no control, but no longer wanted any, and there was no longer any restraint in the furious spasms which had seized control of her actions. The intense internal rapture that she had never known before made her body cry out for fulfillment.
She had broken like a young mare to his will now, and Cord could only congratulate himself on the success on his well-laid plans. He continued to curl his tongue deep into the passages of her cunt and anus, while she thrust herself up to his mashed face and forced his head down into her silky hair-lined crotch. She was past the point of no return, and he was damned if he was going to let her escape his full benefit. Yes, Cindy had done her job well, but there never had been a question of that. She loved to fuck, and Roger Slater had the dumb good looks to arouse her immediately. She was having her fill of the ambitious but unimaginative Mr. Slater, and now, he, the injured husband, was reaping his strategic rewards.
"You're going to get fucked now!" Cord moaned as his mouth rested from her vagina. "God damn it, I'm going to screw you like you've never been screwed before!"
Diane cringed under his lewd phrases, but they excited her still more. She whispered, "Yes ... yes ... yes!" in an abandoned response, spreading her legs, dropping them from Marc's shoulders. Then he crawled over and said hoarsely, "Take my cock, Diane, and put it in your cunt."
She hesitated only for a moment, and then slipped her hand between their quivering bodies and grasped his hard, triton-sized prick in her right hand and guided it over her full fleshy cunt lips. The rubbery head sent stinging responses through her as it parted the soft sparse pubic hair and touched the ragged, saliva drenched sides of her pussy. She held her breath, for he was directly next to the tight, gently throbbing mouth of her vagina. She felt the first pressure of his drive. "Ohhhh!" she breathed in helpless protest, but the penis continued to worm forward and cruelly stretch the elastic opening until she felt as though she were splitting apart down between her thighs, just as she had feared upon seeing his huge swollen penis a few moments ago.
Cord grinned with sheer raw lust. He glared down at the helpless, innocent young wife spread-eagled under him, the head of his prick disappearing into the soft tickling hair of her cunt. He had to fuck her! He had to!
He fell forward in a sudden rush of passion, burying his cock like a raging battleaxe to its hilt, smashing her tits to her chest, sinking to her belly without mercy or thought of injury. The soft ridges of her cunt enclosed his rampaging machine in soft velvetness. He slowly stroked outward, then shoved back in, making her gasp with pain.
"Like it?" he sneered in crazed tormentation.
"Ohhhhh, yes, oh yes!" she groaned, beginning to react. There was no reason to deny the flames of carnality which seared her body, for she was lost. Lost! Cord had taken everything that was right and good from her, and she in turn had abandoned control over herself. The abysmal thought of her total surrender sent chills coursing along her spine and she twitched and writhed to the slow rhythm of her husband's boss's penis skewering inside her.
Cord slipped his hands down her sides and under the undulating orbs of her ass, grasping one, then the other, reveling in their flexing as he pressed his hands tightly to them. He jerked her harder to his loins and felt her pulling her cunt against his cock. She flowered open to receive still more, insatiable now. He moved with long, smooth strokes that brought his cock to the edge of her now hungrily snapping vagina on the backthrust and then forward into her uplifted buttocks until he could feel the harsh slap of his bludgeoning balls against her tiny puckered anus. He thought of a further humiliation he could subject upon Diane and began to run his fingertips along the sides of her pussy, fondling the contracting lips, bringing still more moanings of abandonment from her as her ever more insatiable vagina worked to swallow his greedy cock.
The pain had long since vanished from her loins and her legs jerked and quivered on either side of his impaling rod with uncontrolled cadence. Diane slavered her tongue around her lips as she mewled in pleasure, and her neck and thighs strained with the intensity of emotion. There was nothing save the fantastically delicious sensation of lying beneath this man and returning thrust for thrust the wild fucking he was giving to her. Diane knew that Marc smiled the smile of a man triumphant, but she did not care.
He quickened his charging thrusts, hot and deep, as she thrashed beneath him. He could feel the power of her impending cum. Her breasts heaved against the pressure of his chest and the tiny diamond nipples dug deep into his bare chest, and her legs jerked out wide and up on either side of his pounding body. The plateau of her crotch was wide open to his pile-driver grindings, and the untouched recesses of her womb pushed against his brutal thrusts. He wanted her to remember this revolutionary turning point in her life, and worked harder and faster to make it true.
Then, "Oh Christ ... Om my God, I'm cumming! Cumming! Cuuuuummmmiiiinnnnggggg!" She shivered under him, her cunt suddenly opening around him like a flood gate, voraciously gushing wet, sticky fluid around his madly pistoning cock. She jerked towards him several times, the lips of her vagina seething in a desperate sucking attempt to milk his penis dry. Her breath came ragged and choked, and he dove still deeper into her burning channel of sensuality. Then the boiling spigot of his own juices untapped to pour forth foaming jets of white, creamy sperm, and the top of his cock shot the hot, scalding liquid far, up into her soft, palpitating belly. Their frothing juices mingled into a reservoir of mutual joy and passion which Diane had never before in her life realized existed.
Her body, beaten and satiated, collapsed beneath Marc, her legs suddenly limp, her heart near bursting from her chest. Sanity seemed to return as the waves of sensuality receded, and then the shame and humiliation came back. She remembered where she was, and who was on top of her, whose thick penis was buried in her still gently throbbing vagina. But the only thought which burned through her was to leave this horrible, degrading place and never return. Even though she had caught Roger making love to Cindy, it still did not give her right to do what she had done. Roger must never find out. Never!
Cord retracted his now deflated rod gently, and in agony, she rolled over, covering her exposed vaginal slit from his view with her thighs. She tried to blot out the closeness of him by throwing an arm over her eyes. It was enough to have been so weak and to have allowed Marc the unrestrained use of her body, but now his crudely deposited semen seeped from her cunt and began to trickle down her inner thighs, hot and sticky, making Diane whimper from further indignity.
"That was great, baby!" Cord said with an unmistakably victorious smile on his lips.
"Yes," she replied coldly. "Now let me up."
Cord smiled at her and slid off and stood up, retrieving his bathing suit. His limp prick hung dormant, the thick veneer of their cum juices coagulating around its wrinkled skin. Diane reached for her bra and bathing suit pants, pushing his offered hand away. She couldn't stand the touch of him. Not now, not after the terrible, debasing debacle she had just been subjected to. But in spite of herself, she watched how easily and naturally Marc stood before her, and she gazed hypnotically at the thick thatch around his groin as he eased his trunks up his legs. His balls were large and well attached; little reflexive shivers crawled up her spine.
"Come on," Marc said comfortingly. "If you're ready, we'll go back outside. Maybe you'd like a swim to cool off."
Diane froze, humiliation running rampant through her whole being, making her cheeks flush a deep red hue. The miserable ordeal of facing Roger now overwhelmed her, and she wasn't sure if she could stand it, not with another man's lewd sperm still boiling within her belly...
"What's the matter, Diane?" Marc asked softly. "You're not worried about your husband, are you?"
She could only nod, the choking reply of "Roger ... Roger will never understand," bubbling from her trembling lips.
Marc laughed softly. "Really, Diane. He's had his, hasn't he. Isn't turnabout fair play?"
"It's ... different with a man."
"No, it isn't. Not any more, Diane. You'd better begin living in the Twentieth Century. Your grandmother opened the gates when she fought for equal rights, and the equality she won should naturally extend to the bed as well. True democracy must include sex, for that's one of the basic freedoms if anything is, and we men should welcome that fact."
Mesmerically, his words churning in her brain, Diane let him lead her out of the living room and into the still bright afternoon sun. She looked down at her bare feet, unable to meet the eyes of the now dressed couple seated calmly at the grotto table. She was so ashamed, so mortified. She wanted to die!
"Bring the drinks, darling?" Cindy said loudly as they approached. Diane couldn't help but think how unconcerned she sounded, just as if nothing had happened. Just as if she had not screwed Roger and Marc had not just finished with her. Oh God, why couldn't the earth just open up and swallow her on the spot? Must she go through with this horrid farce?
"Sure, Cindy," Marc replied, holding the pitcher aloft. "Right here. Got the glasses ready?"
She numbly sat down across from Roger, head still bowed. He wouldn't look at her either, his own eyes lowered guiltily. Diane put her hands on the table and stared at her nails, two rivulets of tears running down her cheeks unheeded, for she was past resistance. Nothing mattered any more.
There was a silence as the glasses were filled, and then Cindy said in a casual tone: "Well, how was it, kids?"
Marc chuckled. "Great. Diane's a fabulous lay. Roger, you should really consider yourself lucky to have such a wild piece of ass for a wife."
Roger jerked to his feet in disbelief. "What? What are you saying, Marc. Did you ...? Were you two in there ...?" His words dripped bitterness and terror and instant loathing. He looked as if he were going to vomit.
Diane thought about running. Running anywhere to escape this dreadful, agonizing scene. But there wasn't any place she could go; this was her hell, her punishment. Whatever had been left of her marriage was finished for good now, she thought. Her whole life had crashed around her, for within the past hour she had changed from an innocent and faithful wife to a common whore, a sperm basin for a complete stranger. The full impact of the hour struck her with complete impact and she cringed in her chair, waiting for the cauldron of deserved abuse Roger was sure to heap upon her.
"Now, wait a minute, Roger," Cord said placidly. But his voice was authoritarian, full of control. "Sit down and listen to me."
For the first time, Diane ventured to look up. Roger was staring at her, burning a brand of loathing on her forehead. She averted her eyes, unable to withstand his naked hatred. But he obeyed Cord's command and sat down again.
"That's better. Roger, are you going to deny that you were screwing my wife?"
"I ...," Roger choked, caught on his own petard. "I..."
"Don't make excuses. We watched you giving it to her. Diane and I both."
There was a long, terrible silence. Diane could not control herself. "Oh, please, Roger, forgive me! Please forgive me! I ... I didn't know what I was doing! It was a mistake, a horrible mistake!"
"No," Marc said calmly. "Not any more than my wife was mistaken in fucking you, Roger. I liked it, Cindy liked it, and damn it, if you'd both be honest with yourselves, you'd realize you liked it, too." He paused. "If you regard each other as exclusive possessions, and hold that sex is fundamentally dirty, degrading, then this is one experiment you probably won't repeat. I'm sorry about that. I really can't accept that concept, nor the one that says someone else can spoil your possession by using it. I like to think of sex as being clean, natural, good fun, and a nice way of becoming closer to somebody else."
"I don't think of sex as being dirty," Roger shot back. "But I can't see throwing all sense of decency out the window like a ... a rutting animal!"
"Calm down, Roger," Marc said. "The trouble is that both of you were raised as puritans, where innocence and modesty were virtues, and sex is only used as a means of procreation. But that's not right, Roger, and it never has been. Group sex is fun, too, and joy is as moral as procreation. It adds novelty, a beautiful experience to your life if you'd let it, without taking anything away from your love for each other."
Diane sat dazed, Marc's strong arguments of his and Cindy's way of life battling with her own concepts. This was wrong, all wrong ... or was it? Was his really the better way of life? She shook her head, confused. So much had happened in so short a time...
"Look, kids," Cindy said mildly. "Think about it. How you decide is strictly your business. We're advocating one way, because we like it, but it may not be your way. At least be familiar with the fact that it exists."
Diane, a certain new-found courage seeping into her soul, turned to Cindy. "How--I mean, what happened to ...?" She faltered, unable to speak the question in her heart.
"How did I become involved?" Cindy prompted. "I don't mind telling you, Diane, because I've learned to be at peace with myself and accept the idea of being a woman. I was married before, to a man who knew only one position of sex and did that one badly all the time. I had, to put it mildly, strong sexual conflicts. I divorced him, not only because of that, but for all sorts of reasons, and then I met Marc. He showed me some stag films one night, and we made mad, passionate love afterwards. I had been released, really exploding, for the first time. I became aware of what sex is all about. Later I had the opportunity to watch a couple make love. They sucked each other off, and really did all the tricks, and you know what? I didn't find it to be ugly as my first husband had taught me, I found it beautiful."
Diane nodded numbly.
"I can't accept that idea," Roger said primly. He got to his feet, his eyes still blazing uncontrollable rage. "I think we'd better go, Diane."
"Hey," said Marc. "Take it in the spirit it was given, will you? Tell you what. Why don't you two come over for dinner tomorrow night?"
"No," Roger said. "That would be ... impossible."
Marc shrugged. "The invitation is open. We'd love to have you."
"I'm sure," Roger said coldly.
Cord shrugged. "Think about it."
Roger pressed his lips tightly together and took Diane's arm and pulled her to her feet.
Quaking with guilt, with physical soreness from Marc's drubbing cock, with mental confusion, Diane allowed herself to be roughly led toward the sun porch and the dressing room inside.
Chapter 5
Diane came out of the bathroom and walked into the bedroom, wearing her long nylon nightie, her blonde hair long and flowing down her back. Roger was lying on the bed, his hands clasped behind his head, smoking a cigarette. He wore only his jockey shorts.
Diane swallowed into her shame-dried throat as she stood just inside the door, looking at him. His eyes were on the ceiling. He hadn't looked at her or spoken to her since they'd left the Cord home in Peacock Gap that afternoon. She had tried to talk to him several times, but either he walked away from her or the words constricted in her throat before she could get them said. She felt total and abject self-abomination at what had happened to her with Marc Cord on that sun porch couch, what she had willingly allowed herself to become. Her cunt still throbbed from the merciless buffeting of Cord's gigantic cock, and her breasts were swollen and tender from his impassioned manipulations.
His cum is still swishing around inside me, she thought sickly, endeavoring to further punish herself for her unforgivable transgression. I'm carrying Marc Cord's sticky white seeds in my belly right now ... I'm nothing but a dirty, filthy whore and my soul will surely burn forever in the fires of hell for what I've done, for the sin I've committed.
Slowly, she walked to the bed and sank onto it, careful not to touch her husband. Roger didn't look at her, his eyes remained on the ceiling, the cigarette curling smoke into the electric- charged air of the room.
Suddenly, Roger asked in a cold, dead voice. "Did you like it, Diane?"
The sound of his voice caused her heart to pound violently. "What?"
"The fuck Cord gave you this afternoon?" Roger said. "Did you like it?"
Tears welled in her eyes. "Oh Roger, please..."
"Goddamn it!" he faltered. "Did you like it?"
In spite of herself, Diane found her mind returning to the episode on the couch, to her wide-spread legs and the sight of Cord's huge, blood-engorged penis sawing mercilessly back and forth into her widespread vagina. Did she like it, did she really? Yes, she thought with more personal revulsion. Yes, she had liked it. She had liked it enough to achieve her own climax, to cum in blinding, crashing waves, to cry out her own fulfillment to him and send his flood of milky semen surging into her...
The revelation that, truly, she had enjoyed Marc Cord sent the tears of humiliation cascading like a salty waterfall down over her cheeks. Oh yes, she was the vilest adulteress, the foulest harlot, the most miserable of all the world's cyprians...
"Well?" Roger asked. "I asked you a question, bitch."
"Oh, God, Roger, darling, don't torture me!"
"You did like it, didn't you?"
"Yes!" she blurted. "Yes, yes, yes!"
"You fucking whore!"
"Yes, I'm a whore!" she cried, throwing herself against him and sobbing uncontrollably against his bare chest. "Oh God, Roger, yes I am!"
He didn't touch her. "You act like you're proud of the fact."
"Nooooo!" she wailed miserably. "Roger, no, please, I'm not proud! I'm sick, just sick!"
"You goddamned well ought to be."
She continued to sob against his hirsute chest, her nails digging lightly, convulsively, into the skin. "Roger ... Roger, are you sorry you ... did it with Cindy Cord?"
"Hell no, I'm not sorry."
The words were like a whip in her brain, a well-deserved verbal chastisement, and she felt the masochistic need to hear more. "Was ... was she good for you?" Diane asked wretchedly.
"Damn right she was," Roger answered. "She was damned good. She was better than you'll ever be!"
"Oh Roger...!"
"She's ten times the fuck you are!"
Her fingers were kneading his flesh spasmodically now, and she felt a curious tingling sensation begin in her stomach. "Why, darling? Why did you ... screw with her?"
"Why?" He laughed scornfully. "Because you're an iceberg, that's why! Or at least you're an iceberg with me. Maybe with Cord you weren't. Maybe you gave him one hell of a ride."
The tingling was spreading, inflaming her loins, and she knew it was the beginning of intense arousal. For some strange, perverted reason Roger's derisiveness was having a sexual effect on her body. She was being consumed with lust, slowly, slowly. She wanted her husband, wanted his body, wanted his ... yes, wanted his cock inside her ... I want to fuck him, she thought suddenly. I want him to fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck me! I'm a whore, aren't I, nothing but a whore, and that's what whores want, isn't it? To be fucked ... fucked ... fucked ...!
Her hand began to make tiny circular motions on his stomach, rubbing gently, teasingly, dipping lower until it was just about to the waistband of his jockey shorts. He looked down at her hand, not comprehending, not understanding at all. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Roger ...," she moaned. "Oh God, Roger, I ... I want you!"
"What?" he asked incredulously.
"I want you to ... to fuck me!"
"What?" he said again, not believing his ears. "Did you say what I thought you said? My own darling, frigid, virginal wife. Did I hear you say fuck me?"
"Yes! Oh Roger, yes!"
Her hand moved to the waistband of his shorts now, sliding under it. She could feel the wiry bristles of his pubic hair, and the touch of him sent ripples of sheer lust coursing through her. Her hand went still lower, contacting the head of his prick, and she ran her fingernail over it tantalizingly. Blood pounded through Roger's loins, causing his cock to leap into rigid erection, causing it to palpitate achingly under her probing fingers. She caressed its turgid length, back and forth, back and forth, then tracing downward to stroke his rapidly bloating balls, teasing the leathery, wrinkled surface of his scrotum.
"Roger!" she moaned, completely abandoning herself to her lust, to the newly awakened fires within her; for she was awakened, she finally realized, Marc Cord had wakened her to the full enjoyment of sex that afternoon and she hadn't known it until now ... "Roger, don't you want to fuck me?"
"Jesus Christ!" he said. His hips had begun to squirm on the bed from her ministrations, and he was breathing raggedly. "I can't believe this!"
"Don't you, Roger?" she asked, stroking his cock and his balls. "Don't you, darling?"
"Yes! Jesus, yes!"
He entwined his fingers in her hair and jerked her head up, grinding his mouth down on hers, and her tongue flashed into his mouth like a purveyor of liquid fire. Christ, was this his wife, was this Diane? She was actually hot, she actually wanted him! Their tongues curled around one another, burning, flicking back and forth, and she drew hers in and out of his mouth in the rhythmic attitude of copulation. His hands went to her nightie, stroking her body through the thin, wispy material. Her fingers on his cock were burning, burning, and he reached down as he raised his hips to pull the cloth of his shorts away from his blistering, fervid loins. His monstrous, trembling penis leapt into her hand and she consumed it as if it were something she had wanted all her life, but had been forbidden to have until that very moment.
"Roger!" she breathed against his mouth. "Roger, make me naked! Rip my nightie off, Roger! Now, now, now!"
His hand closed over the neck of the silky garment, bunching it in his fingers, then savagely he jerked back and downward. There was a whispering, shredding sound as it came loose in his hand, as he tore it from her taut, hard-nippled breasts and drew it down over her pussy, so wet now with the flowing secretions of her expanding lust. She helped him by twisting and undulating her body, her hand still vibrantly rubbing his genitals, her mouth still fused hotly with his. And then she was completely nude, and his hands were on her breasts, kneading and manipulating her hardening nipples until she mewled with pleasure deep in her throat. Then his hand was moving down, down over her stomach, through the soft golden fleece of her pubic hair, finally touching the erect, pulsing shaft of the miniature phallus that was her clitoris. She whimpered in unrestrained pleasure as he massaged the tiny, trembling bud between his thumb and forefinger. Her loins began to grind down into the sheets of the bed in wild, uncontrolled counterpoint to his fingering movements down between her legs. Her head flailed from side to side, the sensations so intense within her that fresh new mewls of lust and excitement erupted from her throat.
Diane continued to enfold his granite-hard cock, drawing the foreskin back and forth, tickling the blood-swollen vein on its underside. She felt every ridge, every muscle, every vein in its immense expanse. But she wanted to know it better, to learn each and every inch of it, to know it as well as she knew herself; she was completely lost now in the building passion which she had allowed to take control of her body, which Roger's teasing fingers were further enhancing.
I want to suck it, she thought then as she stroked him. I want to suck his big, hard prick, I want to feel it in my mouth, I want to know what it's like to suck my husband and really enjoy it, not like last night on the kitchen floor but really and truly enjoy it...
"Darling!" she breathed against his mouth. "Darling, I want to suck your cock! Please, darling, I want to suck it!"
Tremors of lewd desire ran rampant through Roger's flesh. This was what he had always dreamed of! This was what he had always wanted, but never thought he would achieve! She was literally begging him to allow her to suck his cock! She wanted it, wanted his penis, wanted his body, wanted him!
"Yes!" he crooned. "Oh Jesus, yes, baby, yes!"
Her mouth left his and began to trail down along his chest, pausing to nip gently at the erectness of his nipples, marveling that male teats reacted under extreme arousal much as those of a female, and then moving down along his belly. She let her tongue flick into the tiny, puckered opening of his navel, felt him twist and jerk beneath her head and his hand continue to oscillate her swollen clitoris back and forth. Then she was poised above the hot, hard length of his cock. Her eyes were open wide and she stared at the thin sheen of lubricating fluid which dribbled from the small opening in the glans, to flow down along the shaft and cause it to shine moistly in the pale light from the nightstand lamp. She kept staring at it, as if hypnotized by that unseeing eye, the purplish-red, palpitating monster which she had cradled in her hand.
It seemed to sway before her face, like a charmed cobra, urging her mutely to come closer, come nearer. She obeyed. Her lips were only a scant inch from the moist, drooling head, half an inch, and then her tongue came out with agonizing slowness and touched the rubbery glans, touched it and began to swirl around the opening, lapping up all the thick, sticky fluid. Diane's brain reeled from the electric touch of her tongue on his penis, from the salty, not unpleasant taste of his semen. It was good, good, good. She hadn't dreamed it would be this good! She opened her mouth wider and took the head inside the butter-soft interior, swirling her tongue faster and faster now over the dripping glans, causing Roger to cry out in pure delight.
"Oh Jesus, Jesus, baby, that's it! Oh Christ, that's ittttt!" he wailed, wrapping his hands in her hair and pushing her head down on him, making her take more of his rigid column into her gently nibbling mouth.
She massaged the soft resilient skin of his testicles tantalizingly with one hand, and her thumb and forefinger were stroking the mighty base of his cock. She was sucking rhythmically up and down now, twirling the softness of her tongue maddeningly around it at the apex of the withdrawal, the tip flicking across the tiny split in the glans. Roger flexed his buttocks, moaning, looking down at the crown of her head bobbing up and down above his loins as she simultaneously worked her buttocks in tight, undulating circles. He imagined the pink fleshy lips being pulled out grotesquely, clinging to his thick cock as she sucked voraciously, her feverish mind churning with the delicious lewdness of the act.
Roger felt her naked breasts flex and dance in his belly, and he knew he was going to cum before very much longer. He could feel the surging, boiling activity in his balls, the impending eruption of his churning sperm. God, she was ... she was incredible! Even Cindy Cord hadn't been this good yesterday, when she had sucked him by the pool! He had never known it could be like this!
"Baby ...!" he panted. "Baby, I want to ... fuck you now ... got to fuck you now ... come on, baby, let me fuck you..."
She ceased her maddening licking of his cock, stopped the delicious gentle digging of the tips of her teeth into the hard resisting flesh. Almost reluctantly, she released his cock, let it slide from her mouth trailing a thin strand of lubrication with her wet, glistening lips as they pulled away. She turned her face up to him, her eyes burning with lust and desire and ... yes, with love, too, he could see that. She rolled over onto her back, with her legs pulled up, knees to her breasts, and spread widely, lewdly, exposing the pink, passion soaked petals of her vagina to his eyes.
Roger rolled over, poised over her. He had to fuck her, and he had to fuck her now; if he didn't he was not only going to blow his wad, he was going to blow his goddamned mind!
"Take it in your hand, baby," he whispered fervently. "Take my big cock in your hand and shove it up that tight little cunt of yours where Marc Cord's was this afternoon! Do it now, baby! Put it in, put it in!"
Her hand slipped down as she tossed and flung her body on the sweat-soaked bed and encircled his thick throbbing cock in her small fingers. She spread her legs and thighs ever wider apart as her fingers dug into the moist, slick surface of his shaft; and then she was guiding his prick toward the small, juicy hole of her vagina, using its bulbous, purplish head to part the pubic hair and full, fleshy lips of her cunt.
She gasped aloud at the sudden electrifying contact of the rubbery glans against the damp, sensitive flesh. Roger flicked his hips slightly forward, and Diane felt a sharp little pain from the stretching pressure of his member at the tight entrance of her vaginal orifice.
"Ohhhhh!" she cried. "Aaaaaaaggggghhhh!"
He pushed forward again as the gigantic crest forced its way into the tightly clenched elastic opening. Her hips flew up to meet his thrust, burying almost the full length of his tumescent rod in the folds of her cunt, sending it racing along the lubricated passage and into her belly until she felt his heavy, sperm-bloated balls smack solidly against the upturned cheeks of satin-soft ass.
"Ohhhhhh, Rogerrrrrr, Rogerrrrr!" she wailed beneath him as he flexed his cock deep inside the tight flesh of her vaginal sheath, lurching the thick shaft another fraction of an inch deeper into her, then repeated the motion again, and again, each time raising moans of pain and joy from deep inside Diane. Soon, her vaginal slit became accustomed to his monstrous size, and the pain abated and there was nothing for her but joy, joy for the first time from the plunging cock of her husband, the man she loved.
Roger began a slow revolving motion with his pelvis, grinding his cock tightly into her naked crotch, expanding the walls of her pussy even more.
"Fuck me, Roger, fuck me, fucccccckkkkkk meeeeee!" she heard herself cry out, and the obscene words from her own lips caused her flailing buttocks to rotate even more insanely, to demand even harder thrusts from her husband's churning loins. He rocked above her, using short, smooth strokes, and her body reacted in kind, chills of excitement and rapture spiraling the full length of her spine as she felt the tempo of his heavy, burgeoning cock burrow into her throbbing cunt.
Quickly, he increased his pace and the length of his stroke, knowing he couldn't last much longer, feeling the volcano that was his balls almost brimming over. Diane raised her widespread loins up to him in simultaneous rhythm to his every downward thrust as her passion-contorted face twisted wantonly with her desire.
Now Roger was slamming into her with demoniacal force, drawing his heavy cock nearly out of the tight, moist sheath clasping at it hungrily, then plunging down again until his swollen balls slapped ruthlessly against the exposed, puckered ring of her asshole. The pressure was mounting, mounting, in his billowing sac, and his head swam wildly with the impending knowledge of his cumming. He had never known a fucking like this, never, never, never! Oh God, she was beyond his wildest fantasies!
Diane began to toss her head in frenzied, abandoned ecstasy, impaled on his rock-hard shaft, and rapturous little moans bubbled past her lips. She was so wild she was going to go out of her mind, she knew it, she knew it! She sucked at his tongue, buried half into her throat now, trying to milk it as her pussy was trying to milk his pistoning cock, and her legs raised even higher to receive his thundering manhood.
"I'm ... I'm almost ... there, darling!" Roger shouted in mindless ecstasy then, and she gurgled her agreement, her encouragement, her need around his tongue. She was almost there herself. She wanted to cum with him, co-mingle his juices with Marc's in her belly until she was consumed by nothing but lust- fire from within.
Roger increased his pace even more, deepening his thrust as she writhed wildly beneath him, grinding up and down his cock with incredible fury, her legs twitching, her toes curling as she lurched her legs wide and upwards. He knew by this that she was near orgasm, and he pounded, pounded, reveling the wet, slurping sounds which came to his ears from his pile-driving cock in her eagerly sucking cunt. He pressed his hands behind her knees and thrust them back hard against her breasts, until her head was framed between them, bringing the tableau of her magnificent crotch higher and wider open to his brutal plunges.
"Ohhhhh, ohhhhh, ohhhhh!" Diane chanted under him as she felt her orgasm climbing to the very pinnacle. Her passion-contorted features were like a gargoyle caricature of her normally soft, innocent beauty.
Roger ground his cock hard and deep, faster, faster, into the tender sanctuary of her womb. He watched her breasts heave and quiver as a result of his pummeling, even saw their tiny nipples expand before his very eyes as she tossed her head wildly, crazily from side to side. And then she convulsed beneath him, her mouth opening wide around his penetrating tongue, and a cry of animal delight, of pagan rapture, tore from the core of her being.
"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHH!"
As he continued to hammer into her, Roger felt her cunt walls secrete their warm gushes of wet sticky fluid around his plundering cock, inundating his shaft and his balls. She was cumming like he was sure she did with Marc Cord this afternoon! With renewed urgency, he thrust faster, deeper, with all the strength he possessed. He felt her jerk, lurch, spasm wildly, the mouth of her cunt sucking at him feverishly, her breath spewing against his face in short, ragged gasps. And then he sensed his own hot, churning sperm race the length of his prick in incredible ecstasy, causing his body to tremble with palsied motion as his juices spurted from the opening in his cock far, deep, far, deep into her violently quivering recesses ... it was a never-ending flow which caused her to moan in spasmodic, indecipherable cries of delight as her belly quaked with the unleashed pool of delectation he had emptied into her...
A long time later, an eternity later, the torrent ended and her own body relaxed. She let her legs fall limp around Roger as he collapsed forward on her, and her heart roared and pounded like the mighty crash of surf in her chest. Dear God, she had never known anything that good existed on the face of this earth! And she had thought she had been sexually awakened with Marc Cord! But that had only been the beginning, only the first unbinding of her physically chained body, for now, with the man she loved, with her husband Roger, she had experienced rapture beyond all mortal expectancy. Never, never, never had she ever in her wildest dreams thought sex would be this good, this wonderful!
After a while, Roger lifted his head and gazed into Diane's eyes. His own eyes were moist, and filled with satiation, with exhaustion, with ... yes, with love. "Diane," he began, swallowing, "Oh God, darling, that was ... that was beyond belief!"
She kissed him gently, nibbling at his lower lip. "Was it better than with ... with Cindy Cord?" she inquired softly.
"God, yes! Oh Jesus Christ, you don't even have to ask!"
She kissed him again. "You were better than Marc Cord, darling," she said. "Much, much better."
"Do you mean that?"
"Oh yes, I mean it." She moved her hand down along the sweat-slick surface of his buttocks to dip between them and gently rub the soft, resilient skin of his deflated balls.
"Diane ... I love you, I really love you!" Roger blurted. "I'm sorry for ... for what happened last night, and for what happened with Cindy..."
"Shhhh," she told him. "Don't be sorry, Roger. Don't be. I'm glad it all happened. Up until just now, I ... hated myself, but not now, not now. I'm glad I let Marc Cord fuck me and plant his seed deep inside me!"
"Y-you are?"
"Yes, dear," Diane said. "Don't you see? Somehow, letting a strange man touch me, use my body, shoot in me, awakened all the desires which I had unwittingly kept repressed so long inside me."
"Something I couldn't do," Roger said, with a trace of bitterness. "Something your own husband couldn't accomplish in two years of marriage and love-making."
"No, no, darling, that isn't it at all," Diane said. "It didn't have anything to do with you. What it was was me. I'd lived with my puritanical moral upbringing so long that I just couldn't change when I married, when it became all right for me to experience sexual desires. I still couldn't bring myself to let go. It took an affair, a morally forbidden affair, a lewd fucking with a man I hardly knew to open up this whole new wonderful world for me."
Roger considered her words for a moment, and then he kissed the soft, smooth column of her throat tenderly. "Then ... I'm glad we went over to the Cords today, Diane. I'm glad because the only thing that's kept our marriage from being perfect was your ... your..."
"Frigidity?" Diane whispered. "You can say it now, Roger, because that's just what it was. I understand that ... and I'm ashamed of it, of the torment I must have put you through these past two years, all the while blaming you because I thought you were too demanding."
They lay in silence for a long while, with Roger's now limp prick draining lovingly into Diane's satiated, warmly moist cunt. He made no move to rise from her body, and she made no move to push him off; they were together, for the first time, together. Finally, Roger said, "Diane?"
"Yes, darling?"
"About what Marc and Cindy said today? About ... well, hell, about wife swapping. What do you think about it?"
"I don't know, darling. This one time, today, was good because of what it did for me, for us. But anything more than that..." She let her voice trail off as she thought about it.
"I was just wondering," Roger said, "if maybe our whole perspective wouldn't benefit by ... by taking them up on their offer. I mean, if just one afternoon of swapping has given us the loving we just had, is it possible that continued swapping will make it even better for you and me in the future, even wilder than what we just had?"
"I ... I'm not sure," Diane replied. "You might be right. I know I'm ... well, I'm still attracted to Marc Cord and I ... I guess I wouldn't mind him fucking me again." She felt little salacious thrills spin along the flesh of her inner thighs at the thought of Cord's huge, rock-hard cock. "I couldn't possibly feel the same about him as I feel about you, of course, darling. But still ..." Again, she let her voice trail off.
"Yes," Roger said, "I know what you mean. After the fuck we just had together, there's no other woman who could satisfy me any better. But I'm damned if I wouldn't like to get into Cindy Cord's pants again."
Diane kissed his eyes, his mouth. "Do you ... think we ought to take them up on their offer?" she asked softly. "About seeing them again tomorrow night, I mean?"
Roger pondered it. "Suppose we think about it," he said. "There'll be time enough to decide tomorrow."
"All right." Diane moved her hips seductively on the bed, her fingernails tracing little prickles of delight along his buttocks. In response, she felt his cock begin to stir from its flaccid rest in the warm, moist, fleshy walls of her cunt. "You're getting another hard-on, darling," she teased.
"Well, so I am."
"Shall we?"
He let his tongue flick along her lips and then burrow inside her mouth. He retracted it just enough to say, "Goddamned right we shall!"
* * *
In the office the next morning, Roger couldn't seem to concentrate. His mind kept reverting back to the events of last night, to the three glorious hours of love making he and Diane had had before finally falling asleep entwined in each other's arms.
Jesus, he thought as he sat at his desk, the columns of figures in the open ledger before him blurring together, who would have thought last week, even yesterday morning, that my prudish little wife would turn into one of the wildest fucks ever imaginable? She damned near tore me apart last night. I'd never say so to his face, but I guess I've got Cord to thank for finally snapping the ties that bound her sexually. From here on in, things are going to be just great, what I've always dreamed of...
He tried to read the figures before him again, and then threw his pencil down in futility. It was no use; he couldn't get with it today. He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. Suddenly and unaccountably, he found himself thinking about Cindy Cord.
She was one hell of a fuck in her own right, that's for sure, he thought. I wouldn't mind putting it to her again, even if Diane has finally emancipated herself. Hell, I've sort of discovered my own virility, too. No more quiet, staid, ultra- conservative Roger Slater; now it's Roger Slater, the swinger, Roger Slater, the cocksman. Yeah, what was it Cord said to me that night in the Pig and Whistle? "Play the modern role," that was it. Well, that's just exactly what I'm going to do from now on. I'm going to play the modern role, all right.
The telephone rang.
Roger picked up the receiver, said hello. And as if sensing the thoughts he was thinking, Cindy Cord's husky voice breathed into his ear, "Hello, lover. How's my handsome lover man this morning?"
He blinked. "Cindy?" He started to ask her why she had called him, but the tone of her voice made that plain. And he was Roger Slater, the swinger, now wasn't he? He said, "I was just thinking about you."
She laughed musically. "Were you? Well, that's nice to hear. And what were you thinking about me?"
"That you're a damned desirable woman."
"Oh? It seems your attitude has changed since you left yesterday, Roger honey."
"I've done a lot of thinking, all right."
"I'm glad to hear that." Cindy paused, and then purred, "Will you and Diane be coming over tonight? The invitation is still open."
"I'm still considering it."
"You do want to fuck me again, don't you Roger?" she teased candidly. "You do want to put that lovely big cock of yours into my hot, juicy cunt, don't you?"
Roger felt fire beginning to leap in his loins. Jesus, she was a wanton little bitch! "I wouldn't mind it," he managed to say coolly.
Cindy laughed again. "I'll suck you off again," she said. "Until you cum this time, Roger. Until you squirt gallons and gallons of your hot, sticky sperm into my mouth. Would you like that, Roger?"
"Christ!" he said, feeling some of the suaveness slip away from him. His cock was rigid in his pants now; her words were like a caressing hand on his vitals.
"You will be over tonight, won't you Roger?"
"Yes! I'll be over tonight. I'll be over, and I'll fuck your cunt and I'll fuck your mouth and maybe I'll even fuck your asshole."
"Ooooooohhhhh!" she giggled. "I can hardly wait!"
After they had hung up, Roger sat there staring at the phone, feeling the aching pangs of desire surging through his erect penis. She could hardly wait? Holy Christ, if he didn't cum in his pants before he ever got there, he would be damned lucky!
* * *
Diane was vacuuming the living room when the phone rang that morning. She pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes, switched off the vacuum cleaner, and went into the kitchen to answer it.
Marc Cord's voice said smoothly, "Good morning, Diane."
She felt a small tingle race through her. "Why ... hello, Marc. This is a surprise. You're the last person I would have expected to call."
"Oh? And why is that?"
"Didn't you see Roger this morning?"
"Why, yes I did," Cord answered. "We had a nice little chat, as a matter of fact. He's no longer ... shall we say, uptight about yesterday."
"I know," Diane said. She moistened her lips. "But if you saw Roger, then you know he's not here. Why did you call, Marc?"
"To talk to you, of course."
"Why would you want to talk to me?"
"To find out if you two will be coming over tonight."
"Didn't you ask Roger?"
"When I saw him, he said he was still thinking about it," Cord told her. "I was wondering what you thought."
Diane felt very wicked, teasing. Last night had been so wonderful, so beyond all her previous conceptions of physical fulfillment. She was a new woman now, there was simply no denying that fact, and her freshly-discovered sexual freedom gave her a certain sense of power, of lustiness. Yes, she was a new woman, a happy one for the first time in her married life, and she was really going to enjoy herself.
She said, "I don't know about tonight, Marc. If we do come over, what will happen?"
"What do you want to happen, Diane?"
"Why, nothing especially."
"Are you sure?"
"I don't know what you mean, Marc," she said, knowing full well what he meant. She could feel her vagina begin to secrete droplets of fluid down between her legs as lewd thoughts traveled through her brain. In her mind's eye she saw Cord's huge prick again, saw it up close as she had seen Roger's last night, with its unseeing eye staring at her, drooling...
Cord's breathing came a little faster over the wire. "Diane," he whispered, "Diane, I'd like to ... to fuck you again. Like I did yesterday."
She was silent for a long, dramatic moment. And then she said softly, "Would you, Marc?"
"Yes, damn it!"
"Well, I'll have to think about it," she breathed.
"Diane..."
"Good-bye, Marc," she said, and hung up.
She stood there with her eyes closed, the juices of her desire soaking the thin, filmy material of her panties. God, talking to Marc had made her hot! She wanted him again, all right, and unless she was very much mistaken Roger wanted Cindy again, too. She knew what her husband would say when he came home from work and they discussed the Cords again; he would want to go back over to Peacock Gap tonight as much as she did.
Diane's cunt ached with a throbbing intensity now, as she once more thought about Marc Cord's fleshy pile-driving rod and muscled, bronzed body. She let her hands stray down the sides of her body, all the way to her thighs, and then pushed up the short hem of her housedress. She held it bunched at her waist with one hand, while the other moved with tantalizing slowness to explore the wet, sticky surface of her silk-encased vagina. She allowed one finger to slide inside the elastic leg band of her panties to touch the wet, palpitating folds of her petal-like cunt lips and then to slip inside the soft, warm slit with maddening slowness. Paroxysms of utter joy flooded her body as she stood there, manipulating her pussy and thinking about Marc Cord.
Damn, she could scarcely wait until tonight!
Chapter 6
The evening breeze was cool and crisp, blowing through the car's open window to refresh Diane. She sat close to Roger, looking lovingly at him, and he smiled warmly back at her. She turned to peer into the night's darkness ahead, taking a hand to brush the silken strands of her blonde hair from her eyes. She felt nervous, but yet tantalizingly exited, for tonight was an important one to her. Yes, and to Roger as well.
Last night, with Marc and then her husband later, had been the beginning, the turning point in her otherwise fruitless existence. At last she felt the emergence of the real woman who had been so long buried beneath the layers of false modesty and Victorian prudery. She was no longer her mother's daughter--she was full, rich, red-blooded, alive.
But tonight was still another major step for her, and as Roger neared the Peacock Gap house of Marc and Cindy Cord, she realized that by accepting the dinner invitation, she was going to lose the last vestiges of her inhibitions and become devoured in the enveloping warmth of lust for the sake of lust alone. Tonight she was going to actively, openly participate in group sex; there was no denying it. She was going to exchange mates, to be yet another convert to the cult of wife-swapping. Wife-swapping: a horrid, indecent, disgusting word which brought lip curls of contempt from the lips of decent people. Wife-swapping. She mouthed the word, letting it roll around on her tongue like a bittersweet candy. It was exciting, and brought a delicious tingle to Diane as she mulled over what this evening was to bring. Yes, yes, tonight would bring Marc Cord and his overwhelming, lovely cock and his masterful ways of love-making. Yes, she wanted Marc, she wanted to be swapped for him, she wanted him to fuck her ... lubricating fluids began to seep from her soft, warm vagina and she pressed her legs together, not wanting to make her excitement obvious to Roger.
"Diane," Roger suddenly said, "Diane ... I love you."
She turned away from the window and stared at her husband. "I know you do, darling," she replied softly, "And I love you, too."
"I--I want you to know that before ... well, before we get involved tonight." He seemed to swallow a lump in his throat. "I don't want you to misunderstand if ... if ... well, you know."
Diane smiled understandingly. "I know," she said. "And you won't make me have a double standard, I know that, too."
Roger was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded. "If that's how it's got to be for you to become a woman, to respond sexually to me, then so be it." He smiled at her and winked. "After last night I can say that my wife possesses more hidden talent in bed than any other woman I've ever known."
"Or will know?" Diane, suddenly flooded with desire and affection, nestled her hand on his inner thigh.
"Or ... will know."
Diane began to stroke his thigh in light, caressing motions. A moan of pleasure escaped from deep within Roger's chest and he stared down at her polished fingernails and the path they traced on his trousers. Diane edged farther along his inner thigh, and he spread his legs slightly to allow her access to his crotch. She smiled, a sudden rush of prurient sensation rippling through her.
"Oh God, baby, you drive me wild!" Roger groaned, involuntarily jerking forward so that she touched the already rigid outline of his penis. "Oh, Jesus, I wish you'd always been like this."
"Don't worry, darling. From now on I will be." Diane stroked his swelling cock through the pants, feeling the long, turgid shank expand and press against the binding cloth. She rubbed harder, as though she were trying to polish it, and Roger panted excitedly. "I'm going to crash the car, for Christ's sake, if you don't stop!"
"You want me to stop?"
"No, no, don't stop!"
Diane fumbled with his zipper and slowly lowered it, then reached in and tugged the band of his shorts, insinuating her fingers inside. His flesh was hot, his pubic hair like coarse sandpaper, his rod eagerly awaiting the touch of her fingertips. It jumped convulsively when she scratched the bulbous head with one long nail. Diane almost couldn't believe such a wanton action ... it was so unlike her previous self. To be feeling Roger's cock in a car! Why ... last week, she hated the very sight of it in the bedroom, much besides reveling at its touch.
"You'd better zip me up, Diane," Roger advised, "We're almost at the Cords'."
But she played with him teasingly until they were on the macadam driveway, and she laughed as he made a bumbling attempt to zip himself closed before opening the car door.
Marc and Cindy were waiting at the open front door. There were the usual greetings, but as the door closed Marc suddenly took hold of Diane and pressed her close to him. In full view of his wife and her husband, he kissed Diane passionately, the way a lover kisses his mistress. There was no question in anybody's mind after that what the evening's entertainment would consist of- -if indeed there had been any to begin with.
The dinner, served after two rounds of drinks, was delectable. Cindy was a marvelous cook, and had worked hard to be the gracious hostess, serving hors d'oeuvres, with the drinks, and then shrimp cocktails, Caesar salad, and the main course of rock Cornish game hen, roasted plain in the fashionable way, wild rice, Brussels sprouts and cauliflower rosettes.
The dessert of cheese and fruit was served buffet style in the living room. Marc excused himself only to return a few moments later with four glasses of a chilled magnum of Mumm's champagne.
"What's that for?" Diane asked.
"A celebration," Cord said jovially, unwrapping the foil crown and pressing the cork with his thumb. "A celebration of your husband's promotion to General Office Manager of my section of Waller, Waller, Crist and Maxwell--as of Monday."
"Oh, that's wonderful!" Diane squealed--just as the cork popped and shot across the room.
"How come?" Roger asked, grinning boyishly. "I thought--"
"I talked to some people and we decided you should be trained before Drake retires. So, as of Monday, you'll be with me. Like it?"
"Of course!" Roger accepted the offered crystal glass of champagne and drank. Cindy sidled up to him and kissed him lightly on his cheek, saying, "Wonderful, Roger. I'm thrilled for you."
Diane turned to Cord, the bubbly effervescence of the champagne giving her the fortification to block her natural modesty.
"You like champagne?" he asked.
"I ... like the feeling it gives." She smiled at Cord, marveling at her ease, catching the appreciative look he gave the full length of her body. She could feel the throb of desire in her loins as he mentally undressed her, and she had to admit she was actually looking forward to making love with him again. She was willing and anxious, and the champagne flowed coolly down her heated throat. Cord quickly poured her another glass, sensing her rising passion as the time drew nearer.
"You were wonderful yesterday," Marc whispered in her ear, nuzzling gently her hair and lobe. "I'm more than happy you decided to return tonight for ... Round Two."
"So am I," Diane responded. "I guess I was ... pretty shy. It was my first time."
"I know." Marc smiled and took the glass from her hand and set it on the table. Then, his arms pulled her to him and his lips came moistly down on hers, his tongue darting wetly into her mouth. She sucked on it gently, allowing her body to melt against his, and she trembled from the excitement of this man's kiss. All hints of her slight previous nervousness disappeared, and she pressed her lips tighter to his mouth, feeling the hardening of his great cock where he rubbed into the softness of her stomach. He was getting an erection, and she felt her own muscles constrict and her breasts begin tingling.
They pulled apart slightly, catching their breaths, and she looked across to the brocade couch which faced away from them. Roger was embracing Cindy there, and the woman was wrapping her arms tightly around him, urging him on with tiny feminine mewls of delight. Cord saw Diane looking at the other couple and said, "They seem to have things under control."
"Mmmm," Diane, sighed, returning to his embrace, "And so do we."
"Christ, I want to fuck you!" Cord whispered, suddenly, fervently. "And I want to do it here, right now!"
Diane remembered the lewd, obscene spectacle of the two of them on the tweed couch yesterday, and hoped she would lose herself in the same wild, frenzied passion as she had then. The thought of being loved by Marc there, in the living room, in full view of her own husband excited her perversely, hotly.
"I'm ready!" she urged. "Oh, Marc ... yes ... fuck me!"
The word strangely accentuated the situation, and it was a feeling she welcomed wantonly. She reached down and boldly stroked his enlarged, steel cock through his trousers, feeling more wicked than she ever had felt before in her life. The tingling in her breasts spread to her groin and enveloped her thighs.
"Strip!" Cord commanded, unable to wait any longer. "Get naked!" Diane took one last look at her husband, who was now out of sight on the couch cushions, the back of the brocade furnishing a screen to the actions of love-making she knew was happening there. Then she reached behind her and slid the zipper of her green dress down from neck to her buttocks. She lifted her arms and the dress dropped to the floor, puddling around her feet. She stepped out of it, just as Marc unhooked her brassiere; the bra dropped to the dress, and the cool evening air made the red teats of her breasts harden like concrete chips.
Cord reached for her, the touch of his hands on her naked shoulders causing her to jump involuntarily. The realization that she stood near nude while her husband was busy nearby with another woman fanned the lust which was burning in her thighs, and the thought that she would soon be writhing on the floor with a strange man she hardly knew pumping between her open legs added to the forbidden thrill.
She stripped her panties down over the satiny fullness of her thighs and buttocks and added them to the puddle of dress and brassiere. Cord lowered his head to her breast, suckling the tiny, throbbing nipple deep into his mouth. Diane moaned and swayed, almost falling.
"No ... no, not yet, Marc!" she panted. "I ... have my stockings and heels on."
"Leave them on. I want you like that."
She slipped to the floor, using the clothing there as she had been forced to use the torn dress on the kitchen floor with Roger as a towel against the surface. The rug was thick, though, a deep-pile buff-colored shag, and was almost as soft and comfortable as a bed. She stretched out luxuriously, widening her legs to show Marc the full, enticing view of her warm, moist cunt. She was alive! She rubbed her hands along her sides and dipped a finger provocatively into the pink-tinged valley of her vagina, spreading the moistened, pulsating lips of the channel in preview of the impending lust-fulfilling fuck he knew he was going to give her.
"Hurry, hurry!" she moaned loudly then. "I want you!" She made no attempt to keep her voice down, wanting Roger and Cindy to hear her ... to hear the two of them as they fucked there on the floor. She waited as Cord shed his clothes like a demon possessed and then lowered his nakedness down to her.
"Oh God, Diane, I want to fuck you! I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk!" he hissed between clenched teeth.
She moaned with the thrill of Marc's touch, the sensations of desire boiling through her pussy like molten lava. Her whole cunt was ready to erupt like Vesuvius! "Oh fuck me, fuck me, Marc!" she cried out, "I need you, I need you!" She knew her husband had heard her that time, and she didn't care, didn't care about anything.
Cord's moist lips started a nibbling motion along her shoulder and neck, sending quivers of goosepimples racing over her body. She writhed uncontrollably beneath his lips and dropped her hand back to his now unclothed cock, grasping the erect member brutally in her hands. She heard him groan as she slid the foreskin back over its engorged head, and rolled the loose flesh around its base. He dipped back to her breasts, his mouth playing wildly with her nipples and aureoles, his tongue trailing wetly through the rich valley of flesh between the throbbing tits as he alternated his attention between them.
Then he went lower, moving his body around so that she could still manipulate his penis, but so that he was able to bathe her belly and inner thighs with his enriching tongue. He ground the tip into her navel, bringing soft moans of pleasure from Diane's lust-contorted lips and gasps of maddening sensations from her throat. He licked still lower, and Diane felt her groin flower to the pattern of indecent nippings, and then she stretched her legs upwards and back against her breasts as he hunched over her naked cunt and spread the dew-moistened lips with his fingers. His tongue circled around her inner thighs and buttocks and then plunged hotly into the pink, wet flesh of her pussy.
"Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!" she groaned gutturally. "That's what I like! Yes, yes, yesssssss, don't stop! Don't stop!"
She chanted the words blindly, her breasts mashed against her upthrust legs. She put her hands to her smooth, slick cheeks and spread her cunt open further to his oral ministrations, and he in turn pulled the exposed crevice closer to his groveling mouth. His tongue flickered against the diamond bud of her enraged clitoris, causing it to quiver with expectancy. Then he stabbed snake-like against the gushing walls of her sensitive, throbbing pussy.
Diane raised herself up on her elbows and watched down between her breasts in complete captivation as Marc nestled his mouth into the hollow of her open cunt. She shuddered from his soft lickings on her tender skin and in her wet creases, and felt his hot puffs of breath. She pumped in the rhythm of copulation as his magic tongue kissed her from the bottom to the top of her vaginal damp slit. She rolled her head back, slowly tossing it from side to side as the delicious contact continued. Cord was gasping as Diane ministered to his massive cock, and he in turn jerked his thighs as though he was fucking her stroking hand. But not once did he alter or break the lashing contact of his eager mouth, tongue and lips. Even his nose was immersed in her steaming slit, the nostrils flaring excitedly at the odor of pussy and flowing juices.
He dipped to kiss the wrinkled ring of her anus, and Diane was fairly shrieking with delight at the forbidden act. He thrust the hard tip of his tongue into her asshole, feeling its rubbery opening give and stretch before his invading tongue. Then he moved one of his hands from her firm ass cheeks, poising it before the quivering hole, and his mouth returned to her clitoris; as it did, he pressed his middle finger into her rectal passage, sinking it to the first knuckle brutally.
"Aggggghhhhh! It hurts!" Diane cried out, delirious with masochistic pain-joy at the ravagement. "It hurts so much!"
He wriggled his finger, extending it to the second knuckle.
"Ohhhh! Ohhh! I can't stand it!" she screamed. "It's too much! Too much!"
Cord did not remove his invading digit. He continued to move it around as he thrust his tongue deep inside her vagina until her voice died in a strangled mixture of sob and sigh and then broke again in a high-pitched wail as her passion overflowed her loins. She twisted in his double grip, writhing in sweet agony. Marc's lips and finger caused a crackling thunder of sweeping emotions to surge through her body. She gasped and groaned, a burning wildness taking hold of her as she lay impaled upon tongue and finger. She rotated her buttocks abandonedly, the ecstasy probing through her loins and swirling through her naked flesh. God, oh Jesus! There was nothing else in the world except the enervating convulsions of her naked cunt!
Cord thrust his tongue deeper, working faster and faster as he heard her approach her climax. He plunged every inch of his huge tongue into her willing cunt, tasting its slightly acid secretions, licking the swollen cunt lips, kissing the trembling inner thighs. She was a hot little bitch, he thought, and he had waited for his chance and found it well worthwhile. He flicked his tongue and worked his finger faster and deeper into her ever- expanding holes, and her body shuddered beneath him, her thighs opening and closing spasmodically.
"Dear God ...!" Diane convulsed, her head flailing wildly as she tensed her back in an arch. Her neck muscles stood out like tendons, and her face screwed into a contorted mask as a low, animalistic growl began to build within her. She was almost there ... almost on the brink ...
"Oh God, I can't take it ... That's enough! Oh stop, oh stop ... Please ... Ohhhhhhhhh I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cumming... AAAAAAGGGGGGggggggghhhhhhshhhh!"
Diane spasmed and climaxed her heart slamming against her ribs, her mind awash with the flaming pleasure of her orgasm. Her insides felt as though they were afire, and her release circled through her in increasing spirals. Her fluids gushed down along Marc's mouth and chin, puddled wetly around his finger still sunk in her anus, dripped to the clothing below. Finally, she collapsed on the rug, dropping her legs as though they were lead weights. She lay uselessly immobile, the world having almost ended for her in a cataclysmic ecstasy.
Cord cradled his face in the warm softness of her pussy. He panted his exhaustion along with her heaving breath, and then removed his finger and crawled over to find her lips with his. She could feel the stickiness of her fluids on his cheeks, and then he smiled and said softly, "Rest, Mrs. Slater. Then do it to me. Then suck my cock like I just sucked your cunt."
She nodded her head gently in agreement and dove her tongue deep into his mouth in silent appreciation for the indescribable journey he had taken her on.
* * *
Roger had let Cindy lower him to the couch, squirming her hot body beneath him provocatively. He had wanted to go to another room so he could see her nakedness in private, but she had not waited, and uncaring that her husband or his wife were on the other side of the couch, she had wantonly stripped her panty-hose from beneath her short dress, and then unbuckled Roger's trousers hurriedly. His head whirled from the champagne and from the heady aroma of her musk. Damn, but she was hot! he thought. Hot and ready!
She took his hand and guided it to the softness of her vagina, rubbing his palm into the crinkly pubic hair. The pungent aroma of her pussy was so strong that it wafted like thick perfume in Roger's nostrils. It has jasmine, sweet jasmine.
"Finger me!" she groaned, wrapping her hands in the wiry hair around his cock, tantalizing the blood-hardened member with stroking nearness. It leapt to meet her invading fingers, but as it touched them, they pulled away teasingly.
Roger obeyed her command, his fingers probing the gentle entrance of her cunt and hardening her little clitoris, making it stand up from where it snuggled on the folds of her labia. It gave him a vast sense of power to see how she wriggled and squirmed under his ministrations, and he pressed harder, pulling the ragged slit of her vagina open wide and rubbing up and down her moist crotch abandonedly.
Cindy began to stroke his burgeoning penis more erotically, and finally Roger could stand it no longer. His cock throbbed like some thundering stallion, and he grabbed her legs and drew himself on top of her, his rigid, palpitating member brushing against her pubic hair and slithering along her soaked cunt slit.
"Oh yes, now I want you ... now, now!" she gasped, splaying her legs as far apart as she could get them. She dropped one leg to the floor and arched the other over the rim of the couch. Roger looked down between their bodies, staring with hungry mouth wide at the upturned magnificence of her open pink furrow. She lurched upward in a spasmodic urge to hurry his cock into her. She groped between her legs, finding the jerky blunt head of his prick so that she could place the fleshy hugeness of his hardened cock into the full length of her open, quivering hold. Her tightly closed hands caressed it tenderly, reverently, and she steered it up to the cave of her vagina, never letting it lose touch with her boiling flesh. Already it was convulsing and the viscid milk oozed from its lust-filled opening. She held it in place, and then with her other hand pushed against Roger's buttocks. His mighty weapon thrust itself deep within her, quelling only a portion of the gnawing heat which was consuming her insatiable slit.
He began to pump, his long, grinding strokes bringing noises from Cindy like those of a mewling kitten searching for milk. Then, dimly, he heard another sound, gasps as though a woman were in intense pain. He was half-tempted to raise his head and see what it was, but the force of Cindy's animalistic mating was too great; he sank to her, drubbing her thighs with his powerful batterings.
"OOOOOooooohhhhhh!" he heard in a husky woman's gurgle. "That's what I like! Yes, yes, yessssss ...!"
Roger froze involuntarily as he recognized his wife's voice. He couldn't comprehend it for a long moment, until he was shocked back into reality by Cindy's pleading demand: "Keep fucking, Roger, goddamn it, keep fucking!"
There were other, softer murmurs and then: "AGGGGGHHHH! It hurts!"
Diane was really getting it! He was wildly excited by the though of his wife's lust, and by Cindy's mad undulations. He felt his cock throbbing and aching in Cindy's sopping wet vagina, and his testicles felt swollen and angry with his rapidly building cum.
He heard his young wife's voice gasp, "Oh God, I can't take it!" and then the spiraling shriek of her inner soul as she reached her climax. Then there was silence, save for the rustling of clothes and the panting of commingled breaths.
Cindy heaved against him, making Roger lose interest in his wife's actions again. He bent to the task of fucking Cindy, slamming his mammoth penis to the hilt, hitting her cervix with increasing pressure, his cock ripping away at her enclosing grasp with overwhelming desire.
Then suddenly there was a groan from Cord's lips as though he had been stabbed, and a voice cut through the air like a knife. "Ooohh, Diane! Your mouth is like butter!"
The meaning of those words was all too clear. Roger gyrated in Cindy's cunt, his eyes clenched shut in a futile attempt to blot out the horrible picture of his wife's sweet lips slipping over Marc's obscene, glistening penis. The ultimate torture of fucking a woman while your own is sucking another man overwhelmed him. His mind drew a thousand pictures, and unheeding the panting demands of Cindy, he withdrew his cock and raised himself up and peeked over the edge of the couch.
"Don't leave me, Roger!" squealed Cindy, clutching at him. "For God's sake, don't leave me!" She tried to pry his fingers from the couch, but to no avail. Roger's eyes were fastened almost mesmerically on the lewd scene before him.
The sight of Cord's hard shaft completely absorbed between his wife's ovalled lips increased his sexual appetite a hundredfold. Diane was massaging the soft resilient skin of Marc's testicles and she swallowed continually, her throat muscles milking his prick. Her tongue laved the underside of his prick while its tip taunted the base and a portion of his sperm-bloated balls. The look on Cord's face told Roger he was experiencing the ultimate of pleasurable fermenations.
Diane hummed and purred hungrily, Marc's heavy and throbbing penis vibrating and reaching from her throat. She waggled her hips provocatively, totally absorbed in her wanton task.
"Suck harder!" he heard Cord groan through passion-clenched teeth. Diane tightened her lips and bobbed yet faster, the cock buried deep in her mouth.
"That's what you want, is it?" Cindy whispered next to him. "You want to watch? Well, goddamn it, then let's watch!"
Cindy suddenly jerked upwards, pushing Roger away. He staggered to his feet, unsure of what she was doing, and she took him by his still erect penis, hands clasping the turgid rod like a walking stick, and led him around the couch. She guided him to a spot beside his wife, and then pulled him to the rug. His eyes rested on the lewd, obscene performance in front of him. God, she's hot! he thought, and his aching penis throbbed in anticipatory lust of resuming his fucking of Cindy. The abysmal, lascivious thought of fucking in front of Diane while another man pumped her convulted mouth with his huge sperm bloated cock overcame him, and he slipped his hands around Cindy's waiting buttocks and lowered her to his waiting prick. She impaled herself with a mighty groan, committing sexual hara-kiri with utter abandonment. He gasped as Cindy, riding his gigantic, throbbing cock, reached behind her and gently enfolded his testicles with her fingers, and then leaned forward, making his prick scrape her inner cunt walls. She moved up and down, her soft pubic hair parting and then folding inwards as she slid down his lubricated pole. Her pussy clasped him like a well-fitting glove. He let his hips move off the rug, and with a groan which started in his belly, he rammed forward, burrowing his cock deeper still into Cindy's clasping pussy, flooding into the kneeling woman like a great tide that tore and burst everything in its path.
Roger still gazed upon his wife as he shattered Cindy's stretched and open cunt. He groaned with the doubled ecstasy of fucking and seeing Diane trapped between Cord's legs. The man thrust his cock mercilessly into her mouth, forcing her sucking, fish-like lips apart with each upward jerk until almost all his rigid flesh was swallowed by her working concave-convex cheeks. Her long, disheveled blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders to pool on his belly, and her firm, white breasts danced and shook below her heaving chest as though they had a life of their own.
Unconsciously he began to imitate his wife's rhythm as the tempo increased, and his cock throbbed inside Cord's wife's burning pussy, her soft moistness unbearable. Wilder and wilder the two couples became, their beat regulated by the rhythm of Diane's swirling tongue around Cord's near exploding cock.
And then ... a deep, half-human cry erupted from Cord and he locked his hands around the back of Diane's bobbing head, driving his cock so deep into her throat that Roger could no longer see any of it protrude from his wife's wet and glistening lips. Her wild sucking changed to great desperate, gulping swallows as Cord spewed huge quantities of hot, white semen into her mouth. Some dribbled from her tightly clasping lips in spite of her efforts to consume it all, running in rivulets down her chin and neck. She swallowed and reswallowed, hollowing and then bloating her engorged cheeks. Christ, Roger thought, that man must have a hollow leg full of cum!
At the same time he could feel a gush of warmth around his own cock as Cindy groaned out her release. Her juices began to flow out from around his deeply imbedded cock and down into the softness of his testicles. He clenched his eyes shut and felt his balls erupt wildly. It was as if hot lightening started to ride up his scrotum and leap down his shaft, and his sperm shot like water from a faucet up into Cindy's palpitating belly. He thrust upwards as far as he was able, spewing out his load, grinding his pelvis against her pussy without mercy.
Diane whimpered, her own orgasm having been released with the saltine taste of Cord's cum. She moved her head, Marc's deflated cock slipping wetly from her mouth, and Roger could see the thin sticky cords of his hot sperm still connecting her face to the warm throbbing head even though they were now inches apart. Her breathing was heavy and she groaned and then she collapsed sideways, her body a limp doll, held in place only by the inner thighs of Cord's still raised legs.
Roger strained and emptied the last of his cum deep into Cindy and then released his hands from her. She slithered forward and lay across his chest, her legs still bent at his hips. He turned his head and smiled at his wife, smiled at her lovingly, completely at ease with the satiation of mutual orgasm. She returned his smile, thin trails of sperm still visible around her ruby lips.
Later the four of them performed other wild and abandoned acts, with Cord directing them like a Hollywood film maker. The evening faded into a mass of tangled legs, breasts, cocks, and cunts. When Roger and Diane finally bid their farewell early the next morning, they both realized they had passed the point of no return. They had been initiated and accepted. They were full- fledged members of the cult now, for better or for worse...
Chapter 7
On a warm, balmy Friday, two months after that wild, orgiastic evening at the Cords', Diane was reading a magazine in the living room of their duplex and thinking about Roger.
He was now the full-fledged General Office Manager of Marc Cord's section at Waller, Waller, Crist and Maxwell--the former manager, Drake, having now retired. According to Marc, he was doing extremely well and very much in line for a substantial raise in his present two thousand dollar monthly salary.
Diane couldn't have been happier--for Roger, and for herself. They had been pricing homes in San Bruno, a few miles south of San Francisco, for two weeks now, and Roger was negotiating with a real estate man for a beautiful piece of property that had a magnificent view of the Bay Area, which they had seen high in the winding foothills near Skyline Boulevard. If things went according to schedule, and if the proper financial arrangements were satisfactorily worked out, they would be moving into that sumptuous home within the month. Too, Roger had told her that as soon as they completed the deal, he would buy her a car of her own, perhaps a little sports model, and a new and fancy Detroit model for himself.
Yes, things were on a skyrocketing upswing now. Everything was going just beautifully. She and Roger were now making love at least once a night, and experiencing new and wild joys each and every time. Why, only the other evening they had 69'd for three solid hours; Roger's tongue had sent her whirling to incalculable orgasms during that time, while she had sucked and milked his prick of sticky, hot, delicious loads of sperm three times, never allowing that marvelous cock of his to escape her lips ... even when it had deflated, she continued to nibble and suckle it until it once more grew to its monstrous proportions in the cushiony- soft folds of her mouth.
They were still seeing the Cords, too, once and twice each week. Her sessions with Marc, and Roger's with Cindy, heightened their sexual satisfaction in one another. Diane never ceased to be amazed at her own sensual abandonment, as the excitement she felt at watching Roger kissing Cindy's vagina not a foot away from her eyes, at sucking Marc's great male cock with her eyes open wide and staring salaciously into Rogers. It was almost as if she couldn't get enough of Marc's and Roger's cocks, as if her mouth and cunt had become totally insatiable. Whereas before she had lived in dread of fucking, she now lived purely for fucking. And she had never enjoyed the fruits of life more.
Diane turned the pages of the magazine idly. It was almost one o'clock now, and she would have to begin the preparations for supper before long. She was having a special dinner for Roger-- crablegs made with mushrooms and sour cream and wine--not for any special reason, just because she loved him. Of course, she didn't feel much like going through the prosaic chores of cooking on this warm afternoon; what she really felt like doing...
The doorbell began to chime.
Now who can that be? Diane wondered, rising. I hope it's Mr. Comstock. He doesn't know we'll be leaving yet, and I want the pleasure of telling him what he can do with this under-heated crumbling old place. She went to the door and opened it.
Marc Cord stood on the small porch outside. With him was a short, shubby man of about forty, with a bald pate and dark brown eyes. The man was grinning to begin with, and when he saw the lush, full curves of Diane's skirt-and-sweater draped body, the grin widened and became hot and lewd.
Cord said, "Hi, kitten.--"
"Marc," she said. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted you to meet a friend of mine," he told her. "Diane Slater, this is Ed Blake. He's out of our Los Angeles office, Diane."
"Hiya, Mrs. Slater," Blake said, boldly undressing her with his hot, fevered eyes. "This is indeed a pleasure."
She squirmed slightly under his gaze, deciding that she didn't like him at all. Why had Marc brought him around here, anyway? She said, "How do you do?" in a cool voice, and then looked at Cord.
He said, "Aren't you going to invite us in?"
"Well ... yes, all right." She stood aside, letting them pass by her. Blake's hand came in contact with the smooth curve of her buttocks, seemed to linger there for a moment, and then he was past her. She didn't think his touching her like that was an accident, and she shivered slightly.
She closed the door and turned to the two men. "Can I offer you something?" she asked.
"Yeah," Blake said, grinning obscenely. "How about a little piece of you."
She glared at him. "I don't think that's particularly funny, Mr. Blake," she said icily.
"Hey, take it easy, kitten," Cord soothed. "Ed likes to kid around, that's all."
"Well, I don't like it," she said. "Was there something special you wanted, Marc, or is this visit purely social?"
"Just to tell you Cindy and I are having a little party tomorrow night," he said, grinning, "For special friends only, if you know what I mean."
Diane frowned. "No, I don't." She lied, embarrassed in front of the stranger.
"You and Roger just come on over around nine. I don't think you'll be disappointed in the ... ah ... entertainment."
"Well ... all right. If Roger hasn't anything else planned."
"Oh, he hasn't," Cord chuckled. "I talked to him about it this morning." He looked at Blake, then. "Why don't you have a seat, Ed? I think I could use a drink. How about you,"
"Sounds good," Blake said.
"Have you got anything here?" Cord asked Diane.
"Just some bourbon."
"Fine. Will you make us a couple of belts?"
"All right."
She turned and went through the door into the kitchen. She was at the sink, taking glasses down from the overhead cupboard, when Cord came into the room. He moved up close behind her, as she was stretched on tiptoe reaching for the tumblers, and pressed his loins against the curving, rounded moons of her buttocks. He let his hands slide around her waist and then come up to cup the full, erect mounds of her breasts, kneading them gently.
"Hi, baby," he whispered against her soft, sweetly-smelling hair.
She felt herself shiver at the touch of his hands and body on her. She couldn't help it; every time she was around Marc Cord, the only thing she could think about was sex. Her body reacted accordingly, sending ripples of pleasure, of desire, swirling along her flesh.
She took the glasses down and put them on the drainboard, but made no move to step out of his embrace. He continued to massage her breasts, pressuring the soft, resilient flesh and the erect buds of her ruby nipples. She could feel his rapidly inflating cock grind against the perfectly rounded globes of her ass, and tremors of flaming lust eddied deep in the core of her stomach.
"Damn you, Marc!" she breathed between tightly clenched teeth, her eyes closed as she yielded her body to the delicious manipulations of his fingers and pelvis. "Why do you have to torture us like this? You know I can't resist you, and you know just as well that we can't do anything about it now."
"Why not, kitten?" he hissed into her ear.
Her hips were beginning to rotate in time with his as his hands moved down now, to slide under the sweater and stroke the soft flatness of her belly, the tips of his fingers dipping tantalizingly into the waistband of her skirt. She managed, "Because ... because of your ... friend, Mr. Blake ... ummmmmmm! .... out there, oh God, Marc ... you've got me so hot I think I'm ... I'm going to explode!"
"Never mind Mr. Blake," Cord whispered, sliding his hand still deeper inside her skirt and now inside her panties, caressing the soft fleece of her pubic mound. "Come on, Diane baby, I want you to suck my cock. I want to put my big, hot prick in your mouth and feel you lick it with your tongue."
His obscene words drove all thoughts of caution from Diane's mind, casting propriety to the wind. Her cunt was dripping anticipatory fluid now, and the palm of his hand was rubbing gently over her pubic area, the tip of his forefinger searching for, and finding, the tiny, oscillating tip of her moist, nestled clitoris. God, I want him! she thought to herself, I want to suck him, just as he said, feel his huge cock sawing in and out of my mouth! I don't care about anything else in the whole wide, infinite universe except Marc Cord's great, lust-inflamed, blue- veined cock!
"Oh ... yes, Marc ... yes, yes! I want to suck you, now, right now!"
She turned to face him, pressing herself to him, feeling the heat of his hand between them as he continued to stroke her clitoris with maddening, frenzied circles. She put her tongue in his mouth and then bit his lip, gently, still grinding her hips against his harder and faster and she felt the ebbing whirlpools of lust seethe uncontrollably inside her.
"In ... in the bedroom!" Cord groaned. "Come on ... baby, in the bedroom!"
Obediently, still clinging to him, with his hand still insinuated inside the waistband of her skirt, she allowed Marc to lead her through the kitchen door, along the short hallway into the bedroom. There, he took his hand away and kissed her long and hard, darting his tongue wildly inside her mouth to swirl against hers, their saliva mixing and blending and flowing in thin rivulets from the corners of Diane's widely-parted red lips. Then he stepped back away from her and tore at the belt of his suit trousers with one hand, using the other to shrug out of his coat. "Get naked, baby!" he ordered. "Now; hurry, hurry!"
She pulled and tore at her binding garments, her mind mesmeric with lust, her eyes staring hungrily at the bulging front of Cord's now-exposed shorts. And then she was naked, and Marc's gigantic tool, hot and throbbing and angrily purplish, was swaying back and forth in anticipation before her. Not bothering to remove his shirt or tie, but stepping out of his shorts and trousers, Cord fell back on the bed, spreading his legs and thighs wide to allow room for her to kneel between them. Quickly, wild with seething emotions, she took advantage of his mute offer and knelt there, her knees touching the hirsute flesh of his legs. She lowered her head, her eyes feasting on her target, her lips parting expectantly, tongue moistening their dewy softness. Her left hand came up to stroke tenderly his wrinkled scrotum, massage the base of his mighty prick, and then encircle it in her hand. Suddenly, her head darted down and her famished, wet mouth seized what it wanted and needed, the only nourishment it cared about at that moment. She began to suck him slowly, agonizingly, maddeningly, running her tongue wetly around and around the slimy, salty, lubricated head and licking the tip teasingly into the tiny open slit of the moist gland until she could feel it throbbing as if it had a life of its own and would gush forward at any second a great, never-ending fountain of creamy white cum.
Her head bobbed up and down slavishly over the thick shaft of flesh now, sucking harder, her tongue swirling faster, and Cord's buttocks twisted wildly on the bedspread. His hands wrapped themselves in the soft, silky strands of her hair, pushing her head down over his gigantic column. Diane could feel its dripping head batter against the back of her throat, but she made no move to alleviate the intense ramming pressure there, allowing her lips to suckle maddeningly, convoluting as she strove to draw the very essence of his being along the passage of his great, purplish, monstrous cock.
Suddenly, Diane heard a sound--the sound of the bedroom door opening!
Her eyes flew open, and from her position with her mouth almost completely engulfing Cord's prick on the bed she was able to see the doorway clearly. There, framed in the arch, was Ed Blake. He was completely nude, the short, rigid, chunky length of his thick cock standing obscenely from the thick curling bristles of his pubic hair. His flesh was milky white, unhealthy, and his soft, doughy belly hung saggingly over his abdomen. His eyes were wild with uncontrolled, animalistic passion, and his lips were skinned back over his teeth in a snarl of salacious delight.
Ripples of horror flashed through Diane's body. She tried to pull her head up from Cord's loins, to release his giant pole from her mouth, but Marc's hands were still entangled in her hair and she couldn't move. She could only stare in terror as Blake advanced slowly, his eyes on the stretched moons of Diane's swaying upraised buttocks. He was holding his hardened cock in his hand now, like some nightmare general heading forth to do battle.
Diane tried to cry out, but Cord held her firm. "It's all right, baby," he crooned. "Just relax, now; just relax and enjoy it!"
Enjoy it? Diane thought, frightened. What was the matter with Marc? Had ... he brought this filthy slug of a man Ed Blake here with this explicit purpose in mind? Had he caressed her and stroked her in the kitchen, getting her hot, just so she would do his bidding and suck him--with her quivering ass stretched skyward, naked and defenseless, waiting for Blake to come in and ... Oh, God, oh God! Oh no, not that! That was one thing she had never allowed Marc or Roger to do, take her anally; her rectum was virginal, and she wanted it to stay that way ... Oh dear God, she couldn't allow her bowels to be raped, she couldn't ... and yet, there was nothing she could do about it, nothing at all...
Blake had reached her now, his teeth still bared. Diane felt, then, the terrible viscid touch of his sausage-like fingers on her palpitating hips, spreading them wide, opening the tiny puckered hole of her anus to his lustful gaze. She tried to twist away, but Cord flexed his hips and drove his huge rod deep against her larynx again, impaling her above him. And then she felt the hard, rubbery head of Blake's thick cock press against her naked rectal opening, tease along it there, poise at the tiny wrinkled ring.
No, no, no, no! her mind screamed. Please, no, God nooooooo!
With brutal, sadistic lust, Blake suddenly rammed forward, his cock soaring into her tightly virginal asshole with savage, unmerciful force, never stopping as it tore through the membranous passage like some terrible ravaging machine.
"AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!" she screamed around Cord's prick. The cry changed to strangled gasps as Cord again flexed his buttocks to drive his invading cock deeper into the softness of her mouth.
"Goddamn ... Cord, her asshole's a cherry, sure as hell! ... Christ, I didn't expect to get me a virgin on this deal!"
"Shut up ... you bastard!" Cord panted. And then to Diane, "Come on, honey, it's ... all right. I'm sorry I ... had to do it this way but ... Christ, it's business and Cindy's away until tomorrow ... Just relax, honey, and you'll find out you like it. You'll thank me for it ... afterwards."
She tried to scream out to him, but his big cock in her mouth forced the words to die in her throat. Her face was contorted not only in agony, but in the shame and humiliation of a complete stranger's insane and lewd prick defiling her defenseless anus. He clutched savagely at her hips and thrust his thick cock deeper into her rectum, into the warm, forbidden depths of her passage. The pressure of his straining thighs thrust her forward, thrust her head down lower on Cord's hairy belly, pushing his cock deeper still into her mouth.
Involuntarily, almost defensively, her lips began nibbling at the huge, fleshy surface of his bloated cock, tasting on her tongue the dribbling seminal fluid which escaped the tiny glans opening. Behind her, Blake was thrusting forward with great sawing strokes, making bestial sounds deep in the fat recesses of his throat as his fleshy rod continued its forward invasion, pushing the rubbery, resistant flesh before it until finally, with one last lunge that flattened his loins against her sweat-slick buttocks, he had sunk every last thick inch of his cock into her warm, constricting anus.
Her mouth worked harder and faster on Cord's prick now, suckling it wildly. His hips churned and rotated abandonedly on the bed, his fingers working convulsively in her hair as the moment of his building orgasm drew near. Blake's balls smacked loudly against the wet, drooling lips of Diane's vaginal orifice below as his loins ground mercilessly against her full, firm ass cheeks. Then he drew his wide rod out slightly, watching with bated breath as the wet base appeared before his eyes, the head still sunk between the wide, tight-stretched oval opening. He moaned, and thrust inward again, his breath coming faster. A gasp of total lust escaped his throat, and he began sawing rhythmically in and out, deep down into the warm clasping channel.
And in that moment, the pain and the terror and the humiliation began to leave Diane's body and mind, to be replaced with something else, something far more base: sexual arousal. Her hips began to grind backward as her anal passage grew accustomed to the turgid pole imbedded there, and she was suddenly, wonderfully, reveling in the lewd sodomizing of her asshole. Her head was flailing from side to side, her lips wildly sucking on Cord's prick as her jerking head bent it maddeningly from side to side. Oh God, she thought, Oh God, I do like it, Marc was right, I do like it, I like that ugly man's cock in my asshole, I like Marc's prick in my mouth, oh God I never dreamed anything this perverted could feel so wonderful and good...
Then she was buffeting back against Blake's driving cock like a rutting animal, as she felt the first tentative waves of her climax seize hold of her. Her lips swirled faster and faster and faster up and down, around and around, the near-exploding hardness of Cord's prick. She was mewling in total pleasure, letting her own cum build in direct cadence with Cord's and with Blake's, knowing it wouldn't be long now, wouldn't be long...
Blake gave a sudden, high-pitched squeal and his pummeling shaft drove forward even harder, working demon-like with its long, brutal strokes into her rectum. "I'm ... I'm going to ... to ccccuuuuuuummmmmmmm!" he yelped.
"Oh Jesus ... yes, mee ... mee too!" Cord cried out, his body twisting and thrashing beneath Diane's madly sucking lips.
Oh God, and so ... so am I! Diane's brain screamed. Oooooohhhhhh, yesssssss, I'm ... cumming too ... cumminnnnnnnnggggggggggg, too. Aaaaaaaggghhhhh!
She felt as if Blake's cock were rammed all the way through her body up to her throat as he jerked convulsively behind her. A great, burning surge of hot, swirling semen flooded deep, deep into her rectum as he continued to howl in orgiastic rapture. The hot liquid filled her belly, filled her quivering insides ... and then there was more of the torrential fluid spasming up from the opening in Cord's cock, pouring into her throat, filling her mouth, almost choking her as he shot stream after stream of warm, hot seed from deep in his churning balls...
Diane's own climax happened then, a wild, intense release that exploded her juices simultaneously with the eruptions of Cord and Blake, and she felt their semen and her fluid rushing to commingle in her stomach--flowing down from her mouth and down from her anus, and up from her seething cunt, to become one together in the pit of her belly. In that moment, she went a little insane with rapture and she knew nothing but bliss incomparable for long mindless, soulless minutes as two cocks drained in two of her bodily orifices and flowing lubrication dripped from a third.
Later, much later, after Cord and Blake had bid her good-bye, Diane lay nude and unmoving on the bed. She felt warmly lethargic, completely fulfilled--and yes, without shame of any kind. What was the use of self-deception? It served no purpose, did it? She had truly, undeniably reveled in the lewd, salacious rape of her virginal rectum by the fat, repulsive Ed Blake while she had milked Marc Cord's hot, throbbing prick with her mouth. The perverted seance � trois she had participated in had excited her into an orgasm of her own unequalled in total abandonment. God, it had been so good, so wonderful! And she wanted it to happen again, and again, and again.
Gone now, completely gone, were all her inhibitions, her prudish moral outlooks. She had become a woman of the flesh, living for physical gratification and no more, for nothing else was important except the beauteous, satiated feelings which now flowed through her like warm claret. She knew what her own personal Nirvana was, and she was there at that very moment...
Languorously, Diane stretched her arms over her head. She found herself thinking about Marc's invitation to his and Cindy's party the following evening, and his rather obvious hints as to just what type of party it would be. Yes, she was almost certain what would happen at the Cord's tomorrow night: wife-swapping at its ultimate, The Big Time, not just her and Roger and Marc and Cindy, but other couples as well; who knew how many? Where partners were freely exchanged, and every conceivable sort of abnormal sexual deviation was practiced. There was no doubt in her mind that this was what lay in store for her, and for Roger, if they decided to accept Marc Cord's invitation. And she knew, after what had just happened between her and Marc Cord and the stranger Ed Blake, that she was looking forward to whatever lewd perversions tomorrow night would bring. Looking forward to them eagerly, like a child looks forward to Christmas.
Unless she was very badly mistaken, she thought that Roger would be looking forward to them, too, for he surely knew just as she did what type of party it would be.
When Roger came home later that day, and they talked about it, she discovered that she was right on both counts.
* * *
Roger and Diane arrived at the Cords' Peacock Gap home at a few minutes past nine Saturday night.
Diane wore only a simple, clinging shift, without bra and panties, and her husband wore as little as possible. The air in the car on the ride over was charged with electric anticipation of what the evening was to bring. They hadn't spoken much, had simply sat with their thighs touching and hands clasping as Roger drove.
Marc opened the door to their ring, and Diane's eyes widened when she saw that he was completely nude. His fleshy shaft was rigid, throbbing slightly as it stood out from his abdomen like a giant steel bar. She looked at it, fascinated as always by its immensity; she moistened her lips. Cord had a martini in one hand, and from the crooked leer on his face Diane knew that he had been drinking for some time.
"C'mon in, kids!" he enthused, pulling the door open and waving them in. "Party's going good, now. Damned good, s'matter of fact."
They followed him inside. It was dark in the large living room, with only indirect ceiling lights to illuminate the dimness. Diane saw that there were a lot of ornate Chinese lanterns in a variety of colors decorating the ceiling. There were three couples in the room, all nude. Two of the couples were dancing to soft music from some hidden stereo, and both men had stiffened cocks. On the couch, another man was lying with his lips pressed between the widespread thighs of a red-haired girl; she was massaging his prick rhythmically as he licked the softness of her cunt.
Diane felt aroused sensations churn through her at the lewd sight, and then Cord grabbed her and pulled her up tight against his erect cock, rubbing it along her belly through the thin material of her shift. She shuddered, beginning to move her own pelvis in time to his rotations.
"Some party, eh, kitten?" he whispered in her ear. "But you already guessed what it'd be, didn't you?"
"Yes, Marc, I guessed."
He laughed. "Well, c'mon, get with it. Get outta those clothes and let it all hang out!"
He released her, and Diane--with no trace of guilt or shame now--quickly took off the shift to expose her own trembling nakedness. She saw that Roger did the same, tossing his clothes along with hers onto a large pile of garments by the door. Cord drank in Diane's beauty with his eyes, licked his lips, and then waved Roger and her out onto the sun porch.
Cindy was making drinks at the bar, and she squealed when she saw Roger and rushed toward him, her naked breasts bobbing wildly. She kissed him hotly and took his hand and pressed it down to her moist cunt, taking his middle finger and insinuating it into her pulsating slit. "Glad you came, honey," she breathed heavily in a drunken drawl.
Cord fixed Roger and Diane a drink. In the doorway, he pointed to one of the dancing couples--a tall, gray-haired man and a tiny, brunette with huge, swaying breasts--and said, "That's Randall Anderson and his wife, Shirley. He's a bigwig with a bank in San Francisco." Then he indicated the second couple, a medium- sized man with a straggly black beard and a lithe blonde girl with a huge bushy pubic triangle, as a prominent San Rafael physician, Doctor Ron Hilton and Isabel Ziniwall. The red-haired girl who was having her cunt licked on the couch turned out to be Jolene Hilton, the doctor's wife; the man was Reg Wilcox, a local real estate agent. There was one other couple present: Isabel Ziniwall's husband, Norman, who was a copywriter for a San Francisco advertising agency, and Wilcox's wife, Patti, a pert black-haired woman with curvaceously slim legs. They were lying near the pool, caressing one another, and Ziniwall's lips were locked over the turgid nipple of her right breast while her hand stroked his long, thin cock and toyed with his swelling balls.
Marc, the introductions and amenities having been performed, then left Roger and Diane to move into the living room. He stepped up to the dancing Anderson couple, whirled Shirley away from her husband, and backed her up against one wall. He lifted her right leg with one and used the other to guide his huge, blue- veined cock into the wide, soft slit between her legs, and then rammed his great weapon home. Shirley Anderson gasped with delight, and began to use the wall as a springboard for her hips and she fucked back against his burgeoning tool with long, easy strokes.
Cindy pulled Roger into the other room, intending to usurp Jolene Hilton and Reg Wilcox from their positions on the couch; but before she could, Doctor Hilton left Isabel and grabbed Cindy and pulled her down onto the soft buff carpet. He began forcing his hard, leaking cock against her lips. She didn't resist, opening her lips wide to accept his invading monster, nibbling at it gently and hungrily. Roger knelt beside them, and Cindy reached out and grasped his own erect penis and began to stroke it lightly as she sucked the doctor's rod, he straddling her breasts.
Diane was left all alone.
But not for long.
Chapter 8
Diane felt warm and sensitive all over, and her pussy was secreting the fluids of her desire down her inner thighs. She knew that with all this going on around her she was going to be fucked and fucked hard very quickly...
Suddenly soft hands wrapped around her, squeezing her breasts from behind, fingers roughly kneading the nipples. Diane looked down, surprised. She had wanted Marc first, but saw her nipples grow hard and erect under the pressure. Someone kissed her on the neck, on the shoulders. And she shivered as she turned and recognized the man as the sneaky looking Randall Anderson. He smiled crookedly at her, running his fingers from her breasts down to the pink, dilating cunt lips of her inflamed crotch. She groaned in protest at the sudden, familiar contact, but in spite of her revulsion she didn't try to stop him or pull away.
She looked down at his cock, which was fully erect and pressing against her belly like some conqueror's standard. Her face contorted with a slight revulsion at its sight, for Randall's member wasn't the beautiful thing Roger's or Marc's were; his was monstrous and webbed all along the shaft with heavy, throbbing blue veins, giving grim advance warning of the lustful state he was in.
"Like it, honey?" Randall grinned lopsidedly at her.
She tried to answer, but her voice seemed caught in her throat. "Yes, yes, I like it," she finally managed, knowing he was going to get it from her anyway.
"Good, because I'm going to put it up your cunt like a ramrod. It's going to go so far in that you'll be able to taste it all the way up in your throat," he said, his grin turning to a full smile of overwhelming lust.
Randall pressed against her then, forcing Diane back against the porch's tweed couch. She dropped to it, sitting with her legs together, staring fearful up at Randall, who looked down at her with eyes like fiery coals. His long cock had rarely ached as it did now, and he lowered himself to her, pushing her back, his face pressed in the soft, clean odor of her long blonde hair.
"Spread your legs, honey. I can't fuck you with them together." He thought that was funny and he laughed, his knees slowly and relentlessly forcing her legs apart, her toes hanging over the edge as she adjusted herself to his body. She gave up all thought of modesty or of caring whether she truly desired this man, knowing that resistance would be futile. A soft moan escaped her lips as she felt the hardness of his huge, bloated cock make warm, wet contact with the soft inner flesh of her thighs. Randall moved forward, insinuating the full length of his member along the narrow, wide-stretched crevice of her crotch, her shoulders pinned to the cushions, her buttocks squirming and twisting beneath him, inciting his lust to the fullest.
"No, wait!" Randall said suddenly. "I want you in the ass! Yeah, that's it. I want to shove my prick in your sweet little asshole. Turn over!"
Diane stiffened and a faint dizziness overtook her, making her gulp desperately for air.
"Go on, turn over!"
She moved slowly, unsurely, but did as he bid, tears of frustration and anger beginning to well up in her eyes. There was no escape. There was only the rigid dripping cock of the thin little man behind her, and it was quivering with the anticipation of the salacious attack it was about to render.
Randall's hand pulled her hips up off the couch, while his other hand steadied her back, pressing her head to the cushion. Her buttocks waved defenselessly in the air, and for a moment Diane tried to press forward and drop them from their lewd height, but he pushed her neck down. Diane gave up any struggle. Her body was a helpless toy for this man to use in his animalistic quest for satisfaction ... satisfaction that would only cease when he had shot his load of hot steamy desire deep within her soft, resilient body.
Randall gaped at the ivory moons of her cream-white buttocks as they stretched before him like a sacrifice to uncontrolled lasciviousness. God, he had never seen anything like it before! His balls tingled and he hardly could wait to feel her squirm and cry beneath him; the thought sent sensations of desire racing through his groin like an electrical charge.
He ground the head of his huge, purplish cock along the narrow valley of her defenseless ass, pressing the soft cheeks around it like a quivering sandwich of flesh. Then he leaned forward and kissed the ridges of her backbone, ran his lips along the small of her back. Diane groaned slightly and trembled from the wet contact at both places. He leaned back and dipped his head, running his long pink tongue up and down the full length of the crevice, between the globoid cheeks of her soft buttocks.
He dropped still lower, his thumbs on either side of her straining backside and spread her hillocks until the corded muscles of her inner thighs slowly relaxed, bit by bit. Diane had geared her mind for brutality, pain and humiliation. But this was soft and pleasant and wonderful, and she found that she enjoyed this man's touch, as different as it was from Marc's or Roger's ministrations, and the caressing of her inner thighs and buttocks and his lapping tongue at the door of her bowels made her sigh with sudden perverted wantonness.
Randall crouched until his face was in line with the blood- engorged folds of her vagina. As he watched, the red lips throbbed once and parted of their own volition and he could see the moistness which was forming on the smooth white sides of her inner thighs. Diane teasingly eased her rear farther back to him and spread her legs to open her private parts to his salacious view.
He moved forward, his face but an inch from the soft pubic hair which was like a beard around the mouth of her now slippery cunt and the odor in his nostrils was one of sweetness that drifted up from her flowering cavern. He breathed hard and blew softly into her. She groaned and squirmed, the pink, smooth flesh glistening from her secretions. The lessening of her fear had been like a release of some great weight upon her mind, and she sighed, letting Randall's feather-like touch work her into a sexual frenzy. She felt the rising howl of passion building deep in her belly, in her very soul.
Then there was a hot, exciting rush of air as he blew between her spreading globes again. Reflexively she clenched her thighs together, but then her buttocks relaxed as a feeling of great enrapturement overtook her. Her behind had never felt so open, so naked, so wet before, and there were a thousand small furry animals caressing her sensitive flesh, running over her naked body gently. She floated on a fleece-covered cloud whose very warmth belied the presence of danger.
Randall grinned obscenely into the wide crevice of this young helpless wife's beauteous ass, and the cheeks quivered in front of his lust-twisted face. He bent forward, prying her wider with his thumbs until she was unprotected and stationary before him. Then, with one quick movement, he thrust his tongue forward, deep into the warm fleshy lips of her vagina. He heard her gasp from the sudden entry and then with a smothering sigh, she leaned back into him, her cunt passage contracting and spasming around the long smoothness of his tongue. Her breath exploded from her mouth and she gave small gasps and mewling grunts as he began to orally fuck her, flicking and swirling his tongue crazily around inside her. She swayed around his face, his nose embedded deep, deep within the passion-drenched folds of her pulsating young pussy.
Randall worked behind the kneeling Diane, slavering and plunging with his tongue, making wet, sluicing noises with each thrust. Her cries turned to one long moan, and he pushed his face tighter against her expanding crotch and began to suck and tease it gleefully with his teeth like a greedy, untamed beast.
"Oooooo-hhhhhhhh!" she crooned, her body and mind lost to the completely uncontrolled sensations of his sucking, and her cunt flowed and saliva and vaginal lubrication juices mingled and trickled down her legs. Randall could sense her impending cum by the wild, abandoned tempo of her thrashing buttocks, and he knew that it was time to ram his seething cock into the innocent softness of her rectum. He wanted to have her climax with his long thick prick inside her belly, and he wanted to explode his cum into her bowels to the rhythm of her own fulfillment.
He slithered to his knees, aching with anticipation, working his hips into the glistening wetness of her loins, pressing himself tightly to the open crack of her ass. He held his palpitating cock tightly between his fingers, its angry blood-red head poised mercilessly before the tight elastic opening of her anus. He taunted her until her whimpers drifted back to him, running the head insinuatingly around the tiny puckered opening. Then he introduced the massive head into her saliva-coated channel, constantly pressuring until its entire length was submerged by slow, tormenting inches into the depths of her bowels.
Randall slowly withdrew his prick and then wormed his way back in, his invading monster ripping away at her entrails. He could feel his foreskin being peeled back, and he looked down with crazy delight at her pink-ribbed hole as it puckered around his massive cock. And he gave a quick, hip-thrusting stab.
"AAAAAGGGggghhh!" she suddenly screamed, trying to pull away. "It hurts! God, nooooooo! Pleeeez!"
Randall grinned excitedly, held her tight in a bear hug and rammed his monstrous cock deeper, harder.
"Push back!" he commanded.
"No, no, it's too big!", Her whole body was racked with agony at his sudden onslaught, and her anal passage felt like some excavated tunnel basted with huge supports. His vicious penis surged further, solid and painful, until she had absorbed all of him, until there was no more.
"Oh, ohhh, ohhhhh!" she groaned, but pushed back she did. Randall began to saw mercilessly, crooning with delight. Diane dug her nails into her palm as the pain eased, and she felt strangely wet and open back between her buttocks. Abruptly she began to feel a masochistic mixture of pain and joy. She realized she was beginning to respond, to heave backwards to meet his forward thrusts, and she undulated her body and moved her mooned buttocks in tiny circles. "Oh yes, oh yesssss!" she hissed. "Fuck my ass, fuck my ass!"
He gouged deeper, the pressure on his cock tight and exhilarating, promising to draw his hot sperm from his balls like a monstrous vacuuming hose.
Diane reached behind her and stroked his swinging balls as they slapped against her hair covered cunt lips. She found enjoyment in the touch of his wrinkled sac and began to work her thumb against her own clitoris as she caressed him, moving in time to his buried penis. Her complexion was flushed, and her teeth were bared back with the tantalizing explosions in her rectal passage. Her long hair was strewn over the settee like a mad woman's. Dear God! She was hopelessly, marvelously, madly impaled!
* * *
"You want to fuck me?" Isabel Ziniwall asked.
"Yes, God, I want to!" Roger answered, the lewd words of the woman exciting him more.
"Then tell me," she breathed.
"I want to fuck you!"
"Oh God," she moaned. "Fuck me deep and hard, lover man!"
He rose from the pool-side deck chair, where he had gone with Isabel after leaving Cindy and Dr. Hilton, and stood over her, his cock standing in naked erection in front of him. She looked up from her sitting position on the patio and smiled lewdly. "I'm going to like that inside me, twisting in my cunt." She raised a searching hand and stroked his blood-soaked shaft. "Oh, God, how I want you to fuck me!"
He lay down beside her, dragging her over to him, then he cupped her buttocks with his hands, massaging and kneading the soft flesh, the warm hole of enchantment buried between her legs. She was beautifully shaped, her legs and thighs long and sinewy, and her body was warm and provocative against him. She raised her face and locked their mouths together as she reached down between them for his hard penis. Her odor was maddening, a perfume he was not familiar with but which reminded him dimly of roses. Her lips were gentle but urgent, a rubbery softness which sent chills racing along his spine. The firm surface of her teeth yielded to his exploring tongue.
Suddenly she ground her pelvis tightly to him and pulled him over on top of her, spreading her thighs and raising her legs in order to take his lust-stiffened cock inside her. She arched off the patio and pulled her vaginal lips back with her fingertips so that her slit lay nakedly exposed to his throbbing cock. She began to slide up and down the length of him, her soft silky hair parting for the pulsating head, and then she lurched upwards with a sudden cruel thrust which impaled her agonizingly on his great instrument.
"Oooooh!" she moaned beneath him. "Fuck me, fuck me!"
He felt the warm sheath of her hot cunt slip wetly along his sensitive shaft, and his cock raced to her full depths, battering against her cervix, her lubrication making wet slurping sounds which intensified his lust. His balls slapped hard against the tiny puckered hole of her anus.
Isabel screamed a low, throaty, animal-like cry, pushing and shoving harder against his groin. He reached under her and between her buttocks while he drove his rampaging cock into her pliant cunt, and stretched the crevice of her ass, searching with his fingertip for her anus. A river of warm fluids ran down her thighs and buttocks and moistened the tiny ring, lubricating it as he probed for a moment with his finger. He pushed hard, feeling it give, and then his finger slid in with a soft plopping sound. She jumped forward on his sawing cock, almost slithering backward on her spine.
"Aaaaaaggggg!" she yelled. "It hurts, it hurts! But I want more! More!" She screwed her buttocks back on his finger. "I want it, I want all of you!"
Roger felt the thin wall of flesh which separated the underside of his cock from his skewering finger. He began to rotate his finger, easing it further into her rectum until his palm was flat against her soft, pliant ass. She caught the rhythm and opened her legs yet wider to give him greater access to the ravishment of her loins. Roger's penis grew and expanded inside her until she thought it was going to burst from the exquisite pleasure building in his testicles. His climax wasn't far away, and with a frenzy he rammed his prick and finger in cadence to one another, exciting her to newer heights.
"OOOOhhh, fuck it hard ... harrrrdddd!" she gasped, jackknifing her legs, pressing her knees back hard against her breasts, her heels pounding high on his back. She mumbled almost unintelligible obscene words and phrases, her mouth contorted with the nearing explosion of her orgasm, and her eyes rolled uncontrollably in her head.
She pulled back her thighs until the whole of her pink vaginal slit was presented in an offering to his craving cock. She squirmed beneath him, her crotch in a lewd, pagan dance of abandoned ecstasy. Then she gave a high-pitched, wild banshee howl, and she locked her legs around him as her loins jerked spasmodically against his thighs.
"I'm cuuuuuummmmiiiiinnnngggg!" she yelled, squeezing like a vise against his cock. It was all he could do to continue screwing into her. But then he felt the maddened sperm in his balls rush through his scrotum and charge for release. He groaned and tensed his body, and the waves of semen gushed from the glans opening and poured into her wildly sucking pussy in a seemingly endless flow. Their bodies collapsed together on the patio, Isabel, little more than a limp rag beneath him, her cunt still locked tightly around his pumping cock. He lay quiet against her, allowing for his final draining seeds to dribble forth.
"That was beautiful," she murmured after a time. I haven't had such a good ride all evening."
Roger deigned to pull his wet hardness from the soft, warm bed of her pussy. He simply sighed and let it deflate within her.
* * *
"Come on, come on!" Randall groaned to Diane. "Fuck back, fuck back!"
He dug his hands into her backsides as she bucked beneath his pillaging Corinthian column. She made indistinct sounds into the couch cushions with his every forward lunge, and she felt as though she was being sodomized by a giant gorilla who was splitting her down the middle with his gargantuan lust-perverted penis.
Diane could feel him thrusting more sadistically than ever, the sight of her gyrating body exciting him to greater bestial strokes into her soft, rubbery depths. Her breath came hot and ragged and she droned into the cushion, her lips opening and closing fish-like from the uncontrollable feelings which surged through her.
Then, suddenly, there was another movement near her head and she could feel the cushion drop from the weight of someone descending upon it. Fingers fumbled with her lips and she felt a wet viscid sponginess being pressed to her mouth. She jerked her head up and stared at the long, purplish cock directly in front of her lips. She recalled Marc having said the man there was Dr. Ron Hilton. He sneered down at her without any physician's compassion, the bushy beard around his chin quivering with the lust of her enticing state.
He splayed his legs on either side of her face and lifted her head with the flat of his hand pushing against her forehead, and with the other hand he forced his prick into her parting mouth. He groaned and wormed it past her lipstick rimmed lips, and when Randall behind gave Diane an extra hard shove in her widespread anal crevice, she gasped and shot forward, impaling Hilton's thick cock in the wet warm grotto of her cheeks. She felt his hugeness slither the full length of her tongue and lodge against the back of her throat.
Hilton began to screw his cock deep into her mouth, his hands holding her head, and he quickened his thrusts until he was fucking her in matched time to the anal rape of Randall's cock. As he pulled out, he allowed a slight part of the swollen glans to remain between her lips, but then would ram again deep into the moist shelter with seething perversion.
"Suck, suck, suck, baby!" he commanded harshly, and her lips began to nibble hungrily at his thrusting instrument, and his balls bounced against her chin, the male odor of his groin filling her flaring nostrils with further depraved desire. He thrust so deep into the back of her throat his pubic hair brushed against her face, leaving teasing wet marks from its bristling touch.
Behind her Randall felt himself building toward his climax. His hands gripped her waist harder and he began to fuck her faster and faster, battering his loins mercilessly against the quivering moons of her buttocks. His breath came short, hot, and he mauled her flaccid cheeks with random movements. He stared down at her slender body as he battered her asshole violently, stretching her moons as far as they could spread, watching his cock rip into the moist pink flanges of her anus.
* * *
Roger stepped inside the living room, having left the now resting Isabel on the patio. His limp cock grew immediately as he saw the obscene and lascivious rites of copulation spread before him. He realized he was far from finished for the night that while Isabel had been damned good, she had not been near enough. No woman would have been enough to satiate his wildly inflamed desires this evening. Everywhere he looked there were nude, churning bodies undulating for completion, and he rubbed his penis into a full erection.
He walked toward the sun porch. Then, suddenly, his eyes fell upon the depraved sight of his wife and her two lovers on the tweed couch. He moaned involuntarily at seeing Diane sucking desperately at Dr. Hilton's penis, while Randall wildly sodomized her. He moved forward in perverse desire, unable to control his building lust at the sight. He wanted to see every little action, every tiny movement between his wife and Randall and that doctor.
Roger could scarcely breathe. His rod heaved with throbbing hardness. He glanced back into the living room at the other couples, all of whom had swapped their legal mates and were engaged in one form or another of rampant perversion. Then again he watched his wife on the couch, Hilton's cock shoved into her mouth, her head bobbing like a surrealistic yo-yo on a string, his prick soaring into her face until her lips touched his pubic hair. And Randall pulling her buttocks apart with his hands, her tiny tight rectum clenching like a rubber band around his slamming, jolting cock. God almighty, the orgy seemed unlimited!
He slipped down beside his wife, facing her wildly undulating buttocks, his eyes centered on the wide split crevice of her ass, fascinated by the rampaging cock which smashed against the quivering and unimpeded anus. He held his breath as the puckered pink flesh withdrew and then sank back again from the brutal thrusts; and then, delirious from the passionate view, he traced his fingers over her thighs, dipped them down and felt the soft pubic hair of her cunt. The wet fleece dripped over his exploring hands, oozing down his fingers, and Diane began to moan through her tightly ovalled lips. This only seemed to excite Roger more, and suddenly, overwhelmingly, he had to have his wife! He had to take her and ravage her and possess her, had to participate in the lewd rape of her body ... and it was rape, even if she wasn't fighting it. The sight and feel had peaked his lust to a mind- blowing, rampant stage, and his prick bloated with the anticipation of adding its own debauchery.
Roger lowered his head and began to worm it face-up under her heavily perspiring belly, letting her soft warm skin beat its tattoo of sexual cadence against his nose. Slowly he slithered further. Diane, sensing his erotic presence, numbly raised herself to his questing head and saw her husband. Oh, God, Roger was going to suck her while the other two fucked her rectum and mouth!
His hands masturbated her voraciously throbbing cunt, working their way up her vaginal barricades, tickling the very essence of her womanhood. Then he removed his hand, his lips pressing the first sweet parting folds of her vagina. Roger's eyes opened to the searing sight of her pussy nuzzling his nose and lips. He probed with his tongue until he found the pulsing shaft of her miniature phallus, and then heard her choked whimper as he teased it with agonizing pleasure between his teeth. He ran his tongue around and around it, moving in the tempo of the salacious anal fucking Randall was giving her but scant inches away. He could see and hear Randall's cock as it surged inside her anal passage and deep into her rectum, and he could feel the pummeling Randall was giving her body; it only spurred him onward, massaging her slit and flailing his head from side to side.
Diane lolled her tongue along the base of Hilton's bulbous cock, wildly jerking her loins to the sensuous abuse the three men were performing on her. Ooooooohhhhhh! her mind cried, I can't think straight! Those feelings in my cunt and ass and mouth are driving me insane! Tears came to her eyes, and she shoved her cunt down upon Roger's agile tongue, pushing his face deeper into her steaming genitals.
Roger moved beneath her kneeling body again, this time lifting her leg and turning his own body around so that he, too, lay on the couch, his legs stretched out behind her, in between the heavily flexing thighs of Randall. His stiff cock brushed against Diane's warm moist pubic hair, and she waved her impaled buttocks wildly, bringing a moan of contentment from Randall's throat. The man sodomizing her asshole allowed her to lower her grinding cunt lips over her husband's animal-like prick, and furiously Roger surged upwards, his rump off the couch as he rammed his cock deep within his wife's waiting, fire-filled pussy.
Her vagina seemed to have a suction of its own, sucking his hardened cock up in it to its hilt. Diane felt the great tool slide into her, bearing against Randall's hard cock, the thin membrane of her vaginal and rectal walls the only thing between the two parallel shafts.
And then, as if by some prearranged signal, Randall and Roger began to fuck her in unison until only their engorged glans remained inside her, Roger's held in place by the inner lips of her insatiable cunt, and Randall's held by its throat by the tight constriction of her stretched, sensation-filled anus. Then they plunged simultaneously, driving deep up inside her, their stiffness pushing against each other along the twin open channels of her writhing loins.
"More!" she groaned around Hilton's still pumping prick. "MMmmmmmmm! More! Oh God, more!"
They gave her more, heaving and crashing into her with a rhythm that made her think of tidal waves pounding the Pacific Ocean shore line. Again and again they fucked into her in exquisite unison, their balls making harsh slapping sounds when they hit flesh, and the soft gushing sounds of fluid and lubricating seepages sloshing around the pink peninsula of flesh between her dual ravaged orifices.
Delight flowed through Diane, sending her deliriously into another world. She massaged the soft scrotum of Hilton's genitals, his hard shaft completely absorbed between her ovalled lips. Then she tantalized the base of his cock with one hand and raised her fingers so that she stroked his pubic hair while she sucked in time to the mighty pummeling she was experiencing in her pussy and her asshole. Her tongue flicked around Hilton's glans, rubbing against its tiny split, and the softness of her member twirled maddeningly around its massive tube. Hilton flexed his buttocks, watching the crown of her head bob on his cock as simultaneously she worked her buttocks to the relentless hammerings of the other two men.
Roger was face to face with his wife now and could stare up at the salacious sight of Diane's puckered lips sucking Hilton's massive penis. The view caused him to shove his loins further against his wife's cunt, and he watched as his sudden surge made her peel back her lips with delirium and cling to Hilton's cock grotesquely with her teeth. Then her lips closed over this fantastically swollen rod of hardened flesh and continued to suck it voraciously. It was a masterful sight, blurred as it was with the increased rhythm of their impending explosion.
Diane sensed her husband's growing excitement and began to suck Hilton's prick harder for his benefit. She dug her nails gently into the blood-engorged flesh, leaving thin white bloodless trails where she scraped thin layers of skin away.
Suddenly Randall began to howl behind her and then Hilton took up the wailing chant and Roger made muffled groans. It was time! IT WAS TIME! The perfect harmony, and the knowledge alone, made Diane gasp, for she too grew like an inflating balloon and suddenly exploded. The room lit in strange colors, blinding and flashing and mingling with the electrifying shocks of her climax. Her whole body seemed to drop to the depths of primeval carnal emotion.
Roger shot his cum deep into her pussy like some great rocket blasting into the black emptiness of space. He writhed his hips furiously, while he watched his lovely wife's face working to milk the juice of Hilton's tremendous explosion. In her rectum, Randall was spearing needle-thin streams of white hot sperm from his convulsing balls, filling her bowels with the enema of his great load.
Hilton continued to spurt in her mouth, and Roger was dazedly amazed at the number of times his wife had to bloat her cheeks and swallow hard, greedily, sucking on furiously to get every last drop of his hot delicious, semen. Some of the sperm dribbled from her ovalled lips and hung tantalizingly on her chin in coagulating droplets. Roger was tempted to wipe them away, but he was too tired, too satiated from his own release.
Diane, her climax the last to arrive, thrust her buttocks back on the superbly expanded shafts of her lovers, her every muscle contracting as though she was having an epileptic fit. She gulped and swallowed the semen of Hilton's onrushing surge, and her anal sphincter muscles closed around Randall's ejaculating penis like an angry fist. Her buttocks flexed to rock hardness when her orgasm hit, and her chest screamed as the power of her body unleashed at the moment she had been waiting for. There was no time, no space, nothing except the unbelievable pleasure of her climax. She was struck again and again by the spasmodic twitchings of every lustfully straining muscle in her body.
Gradually the three men's cocks went limp, and they withdrew from her. Hilton's came last, for she continued to nibble it thankfully, sucking the last vestiges of his great cum. Then he, too, slid away. Diane raised her head and smiled at him, then at her husband. She lowered her face to kiss Roger slipperily on the lips with the greatest tenderness he had ever felt.
"Jesus," Randall sighed, collapsing against the back of the couch.
"Yeah," groaned Hilton. "Jesus!"
"You were delightful, darling," Roger said softly into Diane's ear, and he drew her close with his arms locked possessively about her.
As sanity returned to Diane, she rolled her head over on Roger's chest. The thought of: Welcome to the club! suddenly crossed her mind.
After that, the party ran its course rapidly. Everyone made love to everyone else in every conceivable way by twos and threes and fours, but somehow it never seemed to reach that peak of emotional release she had experienced with Roger, Randall, and Dr. Hilton all inside her at the same time. Finally, she made her way to a bedroom and collapsed on the large bed and slept. Several other couples used the bed, some to sleep, some to fuck, but they didn't disturb Diane. A few sampled her as she dozed, licking her or emptying themselves between her legs, but she failed to fully awaken and went through the motions of intercourse almost automatically.
The first pink light of dawn was in the sky when Roger shook her awake, but she was still too sleepy, too fulfilled to care. He found her clothes and carried her tenderly outside to their car, wondering perversely how many men had gushed their living sperm into her sweet young belly this night...
Chapter 9
The hot summer sun blazed through the bedroom window, cascading its brilliance across the double bed, waking Diane from a deep sleep. She stretched her limbs languorously, the sun warming her body through the thin satin sheet, and she recollected with the haziness of semi-awareness the wonderful fucking Roger had given her the night before. It had been months since the evening of Marc Cord's orgiastic party, and since then, she and Roger had completely abandoned themselves to the sexual life. There was delicious enjoyment to be found in each other, and Roger and she were more in love than ever; but they were honest with one another, admitting frankly that they were no longer satisfied with merely one another. No, they had enjoyed the pleasures of variety too well, too long now, to be limited by such a narrow scope.
Yes, everything was like a beautiful dream. The new house in the San Bruno hills was exactly what she had always wanted, and the new people she had met in the surrounding blocks had been marvelous and friendly--a few of them more than just friendly, too. And Roger was happy in his position with Waller, Waller, Crist and Maxwell, doing an excellent job for Marc, and was on his way to bigger and better career opportunities with the company. Of course, the money was nice to have, too; very nice. Oh yes, she could truly say she had everything a woman could have in this world.
Never before did I ever think of such fulfillment, Diane thought to herself dreamily. And my marriage is so perfectly wonderful now, not like it was when I was a silly, unenlightened prude ... Thank God I found myself in time...
Her reverie was interrupted by Roger's entrance. He opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. He smiled at her as he approached, wiping his hands on his bright Bermuda shorts. He leaned over the bed and smoothed his hands along the sheets, then dipped under the covers and without warning moved his hand up along her leg to squeeze her naked pubic mound. "Morning, sweet- heart!" he grinned.
Diane shrieked, raising out of the bed in a half-hearted attempt to escape the teasing rummaging between her legs. "Stop it!" she laughed.
Roger laughed with her and withdrew his hand. "Get up, honey. I want you to meet our new neighbors."
"You mean somebody finally bought the house across the street?"
"Uh-huh. I brought them over for an introductory drink."
Diane moistened her lips in an anticipatory way. She jumped out of bed and hurried to the dresser for a clean pair of panties and a bra. "Are ... are they young?"
"Our age. And you should see Barbara Stinson." Roger made his eyes go wider and puckered his lips in a silent whistle to show what he thought of her.
"And Mr. Stinson?"
"You'll have to judge Jerry for yourself. He's not exactly my type."
She slipped on a pair of short shorts, colored a lemon yellow which showed off her tanned belly and legs to their fullest. Diane knew that they were too tight at the crotch, and showed almost lewdly the outline of her cunt lips and the valley in between. "Mmmm, well, let's not keep our company waiting, Roger."
Roger put his arm around his wife's waist and the two of them walked toward the door. "I hope you like Jerry, because I've got my sights on his wife." He grinned widely at her. "Gonna help me, baby?"
"Yes," she giggled, pressing against her husband. "Anything you want, I'll do, darling ... and then some..." she added as a smiling after-thought.
