Love, a wise old sage once said, transcends all earthly pitfalls; it is the penultimate vanquisher of the Sword of Damocles.
This great truism is the theme, the interwoven thread in the intricate embroidery of Peter Jensen's superb new novel. The author, well-known through world literary circles for his penetrating studies into the sociological and physiological and psychological effects of our rapidly mutable mores, has in this thoughtful and polemic novel delved into the many facets of love and offered for you, the discerning reader, a fascinating and soul-searching concept of but one of the many faces of love.
He tells the sometimes brutal, sometimes deeply moving, always fine-delineated story of a college professor, Stan Ballard, and his wife, Dawn-two young people adrift in the sea of turmoil which is our modern way of living, but yet two young people like any across this great land of ours; making the same mistakes, sharing the same joys and sorrows, seeking the same answers as sons and daughters are doing everywhere. With rare insight and a magnificent command of the English language, author Jensen relates the Ballards' struggle for identity, for meaning in their lives and their relationship to one another; and how, through what might seem surfacely shocking means, they discover the full measure of their love and of their direction in life.
It may be argued by a certain narrow-minded and hypocritical element within our society that this novel is a novel of sensual experience, but this is patently not so; only secondary are the physical aspects of this brilliant in-dept thesis (for that is what it will become known as, by future, more enlightened generations). The author firmly and honestly believes that love transcends all-and that in order for it to do so, it must ofttimes takes avenues which are astounding and perhaps socially untenable in modern life. But, he argues, when love sets out to conquer, who are mere mortals to question its methods?
-The Publishers
CHAPTER I
Stan Ballard held his wife's hand as they strolled through the lush bower of trees between the rose gardens and the tennis court. He smiled at Dawn and she in turn grasped his hand tighter, and then she looked up through the tree branches and said, "We're lucky, Stan, aren't we?" "Very."
And they were, too, thought Stan. He had been happy as assistant professor of psychology for the two years he had been at Abbington College, but the past six months of being married to Dawn had proved to be even better than he had hoped. He let his gaze wander over the grounds around them; past the tennis court, up the hill to the Commons, and then to his right where the student dormitories were. What better place for such happiness, he felt, than in such an idyllic setting as Abbington College? The college was like a verdant jewel set in an otherwise drab brown crown of surrounding Southern Illinois, and the few people who shared the town of Abbington with the staff and students also shared the beauty of the well-kept grounds, all green and lush. It was, Stan mused as he walked with his wife, like being placed upon the perfect desert oasis with the woman you loved and the work you liked. What more could any man ask for?
Stan's contentment carried over to his wife. Dawn looked up at the handsome, will-built man she loved and glowed with the inner radiance of her affections. Stan was the white knight to her, had always been since that first time she had laid eyes on him in class, a year ago next term. It had been love at first sight. The ideal, storybook romance, and she had never regretted her love, nor desired to leave the man beside her. She had adored his brown, curly hair and the way his face crinkled when he laughed, which was often. His nose was a little long and thick, but she loved that, too, along with his muscular frame and strong thighs and tanned, corded legs. Stan was a natural athlete, loving tennis, swimming, football ... and she fit in, being of the same, outdoors mind.
Stan had loved her fresh, almost innocent beauty. He had seen her in class that third term, nervous because she was so new to the college, having transferred from University of Chicago after two disastrous years there. He had counseled her after the class, wanting to make her feel more at ease, and was pleased to learn that she preferred the quiet, more conservative way of life at Abbington to the hustling, crude, and far-out existence of downtown Chicago's great university. Then he was struck by her natural charm and poise, and the way her golden tresses glinted in the frost glare of his office's fluorescent lights. Her skin was flawless; ivory white from the winter months, but not pallid. She would tan to a gorgeous bronzed hue, he seemed instinctively to know, and then he looked again at the rest of her body, picturing in his mind how she would look poised on the edge of a diving board in a narrow, tight fitting bikini.
Her body was superb. She was of Northern European stock, and had the long-legged, slim-hipped, pointed breast loveliness of Nordic blood. She walked with the grace and ease of a cat, yet was prim and modest during the time in his office. She did not strut her charms; she did not need to.
They had met accidentally, or so Stan thought, the next week. It was the first decent day after a rainstorm, and Stan had gone from his little cottage to play tennis-in the very same tennis court that they were passing now. There was Dawn, practicing her forehand against the side of the fence, for she was the only one around. She had done her homework well, and it was no accident that they "happened" to meet. It was only natural that they should play together, and then have coffee afterwards ... They were inseparable partners after that.
They walked past the tennis court and turned left and continued down the gravel walk to Franklin Avenue. Franklin Avenue was the street upon which the college professors lived, all in a row in neat little clap-board houses. At the end of the street was the larger, fancier house-though still no mansion-of Abbington's president, Williard Lytell. The street was narrow, tree lined, and well lit in the evening darkness. The Ballards strolled down two blocks and then, at the corner of Franklin and Watts, started up the little cement path to a white frame dwelling.
"Sorry, darling?" Stan remarked as they climbed the steps to the porch. "You weren't too keen about coming here tonight."
"I've changed my mind," Dawn replied, "Woman's prerogative."
"Well, that last minute invitation ... and you having to get ready so fast ... and meeting me over at the Psych building ... I can understand."
"No woman-likes to be hurried when she's going to go out for an evening, but it's better than not going out at all." She hugged her husband's arm. "Besides, it's too nice a night to get upset. I forgive you."
Stan had always admired Dr. Edgewater, thinking of him to be as a shrewd, competent, psychologist and an able teacher. The classes he taught were popular, he was respected and liked by the majority of the student body, and he was considered fair and tough on subject material. Stan hoped to pattern his own fledgling career on his style, and one of the greatest compliments that he had received during his short career was from an undergraduate who had volunteered the opinion that Stan taught as interestingly as Dr. Edge-water.
Dawn, of course, looked up the Doctor from a woman's viewpoint, and even though he was older and married, he did not fail to incite a secret twinge of attraction in her. He was extremely good looking, especially in his doe-skin lounging jacket he wore now, and the contrasting black slacks and shiny tan loafers. He was polite and well mannered, and she knew from Stan that it was a privilege to work under him. She would have been definitely attracted to him if it had not been for Stan and the fact she was already married, He had a smile which put one at ease and a bearing which was both impressed and gave confidence. She had caught him casting appreciative glances her way a time or two, but then many men had as she was extremely attractive, but he had never broken the role of the perfect gentleman nor intimated that he would desire to carry their relationship past mutual admiration.
But still, she liked him immensely, and that was one of the reasons why she had decided to go to the Edgewaters this evening. Stan had called a little after four, saying that Dr. Edgewater had extended the invitation for a quiet evening at his house, and if they, the Ballards, had nothing else planned, would they like to spend some time getting to know one another better socially over drinks. Dawn had been in curlers at that time, dusting the house, and while Stan would have disagreed, she thought she looked terrible. She told him so, and the fact that it was inconsiderate of him to wait this long before telling her of the invitation, but still and all, she was able to dress and put on her makeup in plenty of time to meet Stan in his office and walk with him to the Edgewater home.
She and Stan took seats in the comfortable living room. It was furnished in maple, Early American style, with a big, oval hook rug grouping the different pieces together into an ensemble. The anger of a few hours previous had long vanished with the anticipation of a fine evening with the Edgewaters-that is, if the doctor entertained as well as he performed the duties of his profession. While Stan had socialized a bit with him in the past, and Dawn had been over to the house once or twice since she was married, this was the first real time that they had gotten together or that she would have a chance to meet Faith Edgewater. There was more to it than a few hours of shop talk with someone you admired and liked and enjoyed being with; this was one foot in the door of a successful career, for when you labeled a person such as Dr. Edgewater as a personal friend, it was considered an honor and a valuable asset.
"I'll mix some drinks. What's your preference?" Edgewater asked solicitously. "I have most everything."
"Scotch on the rocks for me," Stan replied," and honey?..."
"Oh, I'll have a little scotch, too, with soda."
"Good as done," Edgewater said. He stepped to the mahogany paneled bar at the far end of the room, next to the fireplace, and started mixing their drinks. As he did, there was a musical rustling sound, and the Ballards turned from their position on the couch and looked up at Mrs. Edgewater, who was descending the staircase near the entrance.
"Ah, my dear," Edgewater said. "You look ravishing."
Faith Edgewater smiled warmly at her husband's kind words, and again with the shiver of her gown, she walked gracefully into the room, extending her long, slim arm in greeting. "Good evening, Stan," she said, her voice low, throaty, and crooning, "And is this your wife? It must be. She's as pretty as you've described her to be."
Stan stood and shook the proffered hand. He had been fascinated by this strikingly beautiful creature every time he had met her in the past, but somehow tonight she seemed to have outdone herself. She was the essence of pulchritude, the perfection of sensuality, and in spite of his deep and abiding love for his wife, Stan felt his libido give a quick, jerking leap, and his genitals responded to this female with a growing ache.
Faith wore a simple white sheath, belted at the waist with a strand of gold chain links. The sheath was scandalously short, ending almost mid-thigh, and it was extremely tight across the buttocks. It had been the whisper of her nylon panty-hose which had been heard by the Ballards, the rubbing of her inner legs together as she walked down the stairs and into the living room. The sheath was low-cut, drawn together at the neck by a thin rope tied at the nape. Her large, ripe breasts were visible almost to their nipples, quivering like mounds of creamy smooth egg puddings in their slim encasements. Stan wondered as they bobbed if they were free of a restraining halter, and whether their uplifted, perfectly symmetrical appearance was their own natural way or the product of a well designed bra. It almost seemed to him that he could make out the faint, firm outline of large berry nipples in the material of the dress-but no, certainly the wife of a psych professor wouldn't be so exhibitionistic! Or ... would she?
Faith had rich red hair the color of burn umber mixed with old brass, a wild set of eyes which were wide and almond shaped and which she accented heavily with black eye-liner and mascara. She smiled with warm moist lips of the same vibrant hue as her hair, and as she shook Stan's hand she moistened them slightly with the pink tip of her tongue. Then she turned to Dawn and said in the same husky purr, "I'm pleased to meet you, Dawn. I'm so glad you came."
Dawn thought of Faith in a spiteful way at first, for she knew that from a standpoint of pure sex, Faith won hands down, and that was something which she had rarely encountered in the past. Usually when she was in the company of other women, she was the one the others felt jealous over and the men came flocking around. She smiled prettily, but inwardly she felt antagonistic toward the woman. Look at her. She's almost nude! Doesn't she have any modesty? And look at Stan! His expression is ... is almost lewd! He's captivated by her! But I can't blame him ... all men are easy prey to, to sirens like her! Dawn wondered whether she had any real cause for her odd feeling of jealousy, and decided that she did not. Men are easily aroused by obvious and blatant sex ... did they not like to ogle magazine center-folds of naked women, a pastime which to her made no sense at all? Retract those claws, she cautioned herself; this is an important evening for Stan, and should be a fun one for both of us. Relax. ...
"How do you do, Mrs. Edgewater? I'm pleased to meet you at last."
"Call me Faith, Dawn. All my friends do." "All right, Faith."
Edgewater came up with the drinks and after handing them to Dawn and Stan he put his hand lovingly around his wife's slim waist and patted her fondly. "Great woman here, Stan. We've been married almost eight years now and I've loved every minute of it."
Stan said, "I'm sure you two are very happy. Of course, I think I'm pretty fortunate, myself." He grinned at Dawn, mentally comparing her quiet and somewhat virginal beauty to Faith's overt and sensual muskiness. He couldn't help his reaction, though ... and he found himself involuntarily thinking that his superior's wife would be one hell of a lay ... that in bed, she'd fuck the cock right off a guy. He blushed slightly at the corrupt idea as if his thoughts were being broadcast to the others. No use harboring a lot of sick and perverted projections anyway as nothing was going to happen between him and Edgewater's wife.
Still, he had to admit she was one hell of a fascinating woman ... He took a sip of his scotch, not noticing that he had been served a very generous drink, and that his wife had a double portion in her glass.
The evening progressed rapidly, and in spite of her first reaction, Dawn soon found herself warming up to the red-haired Faith Edgewater, developing a camaraderie with the woman as they discussed television, recipes, and the raising of children-which neither had so far experienced. Dawn found Faith to be intelligent and stimulating, and soon the idea of her as a female threat passed from her mind.
Stan, meanwhile talked of the student with Edgewater, for the winter term was drawing to a close and this week was for testing. It was Thursday, and by this time next week, Stan fully prepared to be finished with the test grading and would be enjoying a well-earned Easter vacation. The final, spring term would be starting all too soon, he knew. Conversation ranged from general politics to specific ideas of how to curb the encroaching pollution of Abbington Lake, a resort area with thirty square miles of water caused by the building of a new dam nearby.
The first drink Edgewater had given Dawn had been a little strong for her liking, but being a gracious guest, she had drunk it slowly but without comment. It was probably her imagination anyway, she told herself, and the second drink proved to be more to her taste. She wasn't conscious of the effect, but the scotch was affecting her markedly, and she relaxed from the tenseness of the hurried afternoon, the meeting of new and important people, and her slight resentment of Faith. She became happy and carefree, laughing and giggling at the jokes, enjoying the company of the man she loved and two people for whom she had grown fond.
Don, too, had noticed the size of his drink but had chalked it up to his superior's flare for being a gracious and liberal host. Besides, he liked his drinks with a little kick in them, and he could hold his liquor with the best of them. Or so he thought. As the hours passed, he felt more secure than he had ever felt before, and that LeLand Edgewater was proving to be a valued and valuable friend, furthering Stan's career both directly and indirectly. This, he felt, could be the start of a long and satisfactory relationship.
Faith drained her third drink and Edgewater got to his feet immediately. "Another, my dear?" he asked. "And you, Dawn? The same?"
"Well..." giggled Dawn, but she handed him her glass. She lit another cigarette-the tenth of the evening-and placed the match in the ash tray on the table beside the couch. She had noticed the oddly shaped ash tray from the beginning, but it wasn't until the liquor had freed her of her polite restraints that she had enough courage to ask about it. She held it up and turned to Faith.
"This ashtray," she said, "The design is ... is peculiar. I've never seen one like that before."
Faith smiled warmly. "Oh yes you have," she replied. "Every time you take a bath you see one like it."
"I don't understand," frowned Dawn.
"It's a modeling of a woman's pussy!"
The blunt words hung like incense in the suddenly stilled room. Faith's vulgar tongue caused Dawn to gasp inwardly ... had she heard this woman correctly? No, nobody would say such a thing, even in the privacy of their own home, much besides own such a thing! Her mind whirled, half confused from the blatant abandonment of correctness, half from the scotch she'd consumed.
Stan flushed. "I ... I heard you say it was what?"
"A ceramic cunt," Edgewater said. "Look ... see the red flowering lips and the little place which holds the cigarette at one end? That's the upper vulva, and the bud there is supposed to be a clitoris. I found it in a secondhand shop in Brazil three years ago."
Dawn almost dropped the wretched, now abhorrent thing. What kind of monstrous object was this ... or were they joking? Never had she been subjected to such crudeness....
Faith continued as if nothing shocking was happening. "Oh, we have lots of things like that around. Honey, show them some of our treasures."
"No, you really don't have to," gulped Stan. He looked at his wife with a sickened expression, embarrassed for both of them. Yet inside him a little pinprick of lewd sensuality started to tickle his mind, and he found himself actually wanting to see the other "treasures"-yet knowing that his wife was horrified and completely taken aback by this perverted display. He remembered when he had inadvertently used the word, "fuck," and the barrage of castigation he had gotten from her over it ... My God! this must be blowing her mind, to be subjected to this wholesale titillation: I'll never hear the end of it! What the devil has gotten into these fine people?
Edgewater was standing beside a draped painting on the wall on the other side of the bar. "Here," he said expansively, "Is a fine masterpiece by Zichy..." he drew the satin curtain aside, and this time Dawn gasped out loud. Her hand flew to her mouth as though she had swallowed some kind of excrement, and a low gurgle of horror welled in her throat.
The print was of a Woman with heavy breasts crouched atop a man's adoring face, her vulva area spread widely and pink over his lips for his oral adoration.
Great Heavens! That was something which Dawn NEVER allowed him to do to her, Stan thought wildly. His mind groped for sanity as he viewed the carnal delights etched upon their faces. NEVER! It was dirty and perverted, and yet there it was in full color, idolized in classic art! He was torn mentally by the extreme eroticism of the caricature and the embarrassment of his public display.
"...And on the other side of the bar..." Edge-water turned the bar, which was on castors, around so that the doors were visible. The two doors were hand carved in bas-relief, three dimensional images of sexual depravity. On the left was a seated man, naked, and on his lap was a similarly unclad woman, her head resting on his shoulder. She was facing outward from the door, belly sucked in, her long hair spilling down to her ribs. The man grasped her breasts and one could almost see him shuddering with delight.
On the right was the same couple, only the woman had her back turned to the viewer so that her full buttocks seemed poised for the next downward stroke upon the man's enormous cock. His eyes were bulging and his mouth hung wide, and it was so well carved as to be almost like a real couple.
It sent Stan's blood soaring.
Dawn seemed hypnotized by the carvings, and then she focused on the picture again, and all the while her fingers unconsciously stroked the smooth ceramic lips of the vulgar ash-tray. She had never seen replicas of people making love, and she wondered if that was the way she and Stan looked in the throes of their intercourse. The picture was the most abhorrent, for it depicted a perverted and disgusting act which made her sinews tighten with rejection. Stan had tried to kiss her ... there, and had even had the gall to suggest that she kiss him on his ... penis! Only once had he made the request, and he knew exactly how she felt concerning such matters. She had made her position very clear about unnatural and dirty actions ... and yet, there was no doubt that the woman in the picture was enjoying herself immensely, and that the man, with his tongue out and his lips locked in a questing oval, was also rapturous.
A ripple of secret, unwanted excitement passed through Dawn, for she had locked her gaze upon the huge penis of the man, its hardened splendor even larger than Stan's big male organ. She wondered how the woman would have been able to take all of it inside her ... if the scene had been able to play on to its climax. She clenched her thighs together at the idea of accepting such a monster, her mind clouded by the drifting haze of alcohol and the perversions she was viewing.
"Aren't they interesting?" Edgewater said calmly. He was blandly mixing a fresh batch of drinks behind the bar and was smiling directly at her. Dawn gave a little start and tried to focus on the present, on reality, but the scotch and soda had wrought its damage. She shivered as if caught in a sudden cold draft and shook her head.
"No?" Faith smiled at her. "Don't you like them at all?"
"I ... I think you should put them away." she said in a low voice. "I don't want to look at them any more."
"Are you sure? I enjoy them very much," Edge-water said. "They excite me."
"You can't mean that ... you approve of what they're doing?" blurted Dawn incredulously. "That you like..." The words stuck in her throat. She tried to form syllables, to scream out her revulsion, but still the torture of their sensuality crept through her loins. OH God! I mustn't allow this! It is wrong! "They're like ... animals!"
"Merely passionate," Faith replied.
"Passion should be part of love," Dawn argued back, "And they can't be in love ... not doing those things to each other!"
"Who is to judge what is right or wrong when passionate?" asked Edgewater. "Passion is a very strong emotion, for it leads to happiness. Certainly you want to make the person you love happy, don't you?"
"Yes ... yes, but doing those horrible things can't be part of being happy!" She took a swallow of her drink, knowing that she shouldn't for the liquor was making her mind swim with confusion, making her arguments for morality unclear.
"Happiness is ... is..."
"What is happiness, Dawn, if it isn't what you see on their faces. They're enjoying one another to the fullest, passionate and responsive and complete. What's wrong with that, or with enjoying the picture of their exploits?"
Edgewater's arguments drilled through her steadfast code, making her giddy with anguish. She blinked heavily, trying to clear her thoughts, thoughts of when she had convinced Stan of the sensibility of her ethics ... of the arguments she had used then ... and their logical basis. She went back in her life, endeavoring to dredge up the reasons why she found the picture and the carvings and the ashtray so abhorrent.
She had never let any boy touch her or play around with her from her earliest years, right from the beginning when her mother had warned her of the dangers of sitting on strange boys' laps. She had successfully fought off the crude advances during high school and later the only slightly more sophisticated attempts by college men. It had been the constant pressure on the part of the free-love swingers at the University of Chicago and their spurring of her moral fiber which had made her life miserable there and prompted her to switch to the more wholesome environment of Abbington's campus.
There she had met Stan, and she knew, she felt at once that he would be perfect for her; undemanding, gentle, as pure as she, ready and wanting sex only within the confines of their bridal bed ... and then the flash of remembrance came to her, the one night when he had slipped and let the beast which her mother had said is in all men come through....
There had been more drinking than usual, that night last summer. She had stayed in Abbington, engaged since the end of the school year to Stan, and was with her fianc' most every night-that is, until bedtime. They had necked, and after the drinking she had to admit to herself that she was more responsive to the idea of some light, premarital kissing on some moonlight parking spot ...
His kisses had sparked more fire than she had desired. She was about to pull away when one of his hands began to insinuate its way up the inside of her cardigan sweater ... higher and higher until he suddenly began to stroke her bra-encased breasts. Little shivers of arousal had spread through her and she had sensed a distinct wetness in her vaginal area that had never happened before. Then, as now, she had seemed to be immobile, unable to stop him anymore than she was able to fight successfully the Edgewater's corrupting pornography. She was with Stan, the man she loved, and she had felt warm and safe as his mouth moved on her mouth and his hands slid her bra up to fondle one bare breast.
But then Stan had slid his other hand away, and she had heard a zipper slide. At first she had thought it was the one on her dress, but it was not! She had fluttered her tightly closed eyes open and in the moonlight, she had seen for the first time an erect male organ. Her fear had suddenly consumed the passion of seconds before, and the quivering penis had changed her indecision to one of instant action. She had sat bolt upright.
"No," she had screamed, "Stan, stop this!"
"I want you, Dawn-" he had moaned in slurred, drunken words, "I want you, I need you-I love you-Ohhhh!"
She twisted from him, fear enervating her body. She had grabbed for the car door, had opened it and the inside light shone like a beacon upon his turgid, purplish penis as it stood out hard from his pants. He lunged for her, and she felt his cock's warm, sticky head make contact with her thigh. "Please, baby, please..."
And then, as she was about to flee from his carnal attack, his thick rod had begun to jerk and a creamy spurt of warm semen had hit her leg, and then another and another, staining her skirt, Stan mewling and crying for her, yelling of his love, his filthy love ... and she had run and run and run ... until she was home in her little boarding-house room, safe and secure and alone.
It had taken two weeks of constant pleading before Stan was able to patch things up with her, and she had made it absolutely clear that she had no intention of "fooling around"-as she had put it-before they were married, and that his actions-well, that was best chalked up to being inebriated and then forgotten. Forever.
Yet, here she sat in the Edgewater's living room, her mind once more returned to the present, and in spite of her heavy commitment to her inbred moral code, Dawn began to feel stirrings of arousal churn through her loins, and she pressed her legs together and moved her thighs on the cushion in a vain attempt to quiet the lascivious twitches.
"I ... I think we had better go, Stan," she said, standing suddenly. "It's late, and I'm tired. Please, let's go."
Stan, by this time a riot of ambivalences, for he was aroused to the point of having half a hard on, yet saddened and somewhat chagrined both of himself and the Edgewater's careless display of their eccentricities, mutely did as she had asked.
"I hope we haven't chased you out because of our treasures," Faith said. "We didn't mean to offend you."
"Oh no, not at all," Dawn lied blithely. "I really don't care for them, but that doesn't mean I'm shocked." She smiled politely. "After all, I'm married, too!"
As the good-byes were being said and they left, Stan couldn't help but think about his marriage; the fact that while he was never turned away from gratifying himself, the actual physical sex act was always the same-western, stare-atthe-ceiling-while-he's-on-top-type-and that it was obvious there were others, many others including LeLand Edgewater, who were getting a whole lot more action and variety than he. There was a building of resentment and antagonism as he walked home with Dawn, both at her for being so narrow-minded, and he for accepting it.
Perhaps it was about time things changed around that bed, he said to himself, perhaps it was about time he got as much as that fellow in the wood carving...
* * *
"Please, honey, I want to suck you," Faith Edgewater moaned, her own fingers slipping wetly inside her pink fluted cunt. She was stretched out, legs spread wide, and nude upon the sheets of their double bed, arching her back and gritting her teeth from her masturbatory manipulations. "Let me suck your beautiful prick while I make myself cum ... ohhhhhh..."
Daivn! Edgewater thought as he unbuttoned his shirt, she really knew how to get a guy hot! She uses her body and her mouth, fucking you every which way! His pants were already draped over a chair back, along with his underpants, and his great, trembling cock stood out from his groin while his wife stared at it, moistening her lips with anticipation. He stifled a groan of pleasure and then said, "No, not yet baby, not until you've heard my plan."
"You can tell me the plan afterwards."
"No, I'm going to tell you now. You were interested enough to hear about it when you first met Stan."
She writhed on the bed, moaning further as her hands sought the warm moist cavern of her splayed cunt. She jerked her legs and arched her back and plaintively she cried, "But I'm hot, honey, and I want to suck you! Come on, let me taste that sweet cock of yours and then swallow every drop of your cum down my throat!"
"Uh-uh," Edgewater said firmly. He moved to the foot of the bed and sat down, watching her undulate her hips as he eyes hotly rested on his weapon and the bloated sac of his balls. "The first part worked just fine," he continued. "Stan got hotter than hell over those little mementoes of ours, and Dawn got turned on a bit, too-once we fed her enough liquor. That's the secret, I think, with her. Get her drunk."
"She won't need that excuse for long," Faith said, "I can feel that she'll go for everything once we break through."
"Right," Edgewater grinned salaciously, and the added thought of fucking Stan's Puritanistic little wife half to death made his cock leap higher. "I figure that Stan is the more susceptible one and that's why I picked now, so that we that is, you-can seduce him during Spring Vacation, when he doesn't have a lot of other things to distract him."
"So you can get into Dawn's little pussy," Faith said petulantly. She stretched out her legs and began to stroke his thigh with her toe, then upward until she was able to move the sole of her foot across the granite-hard expanse of his cock. "When do you want me to start on Stan?"
"As soon as possible. Here, right here in this bedroom so that I can be taking the pictures. How does that sound to my little sweet-ass eh?"
"You know how I love to see myself making it, darling," she said with ecstatic breathlessness.
"Make sure you keep it up for a long time. No telling how long it will take for me to arouse Dawn with the films."
"No problem, lover," she whispered. She turned and began to slowly slither down the sheets, her hand still churning inside her burning nether regions. "You know me."
"Hell yes, I do," Edgewater said. He leaned toward her, his cock trembling with the expected touch of her lips. "Now suck me, baby," he sighed as her mouth closed over his cock's mighty head, "Suck me, suck me, suck me!"
CHAPTER 2
As Stan slowly undressed in the bedroom of their cottage, listening to the shower rhythmically cascading in the bathroom, his mind once again began to dwell on the erotic possessions of Faith and Lei and Edgewater. He removed his trousers and laid them over the back of Dawn's vanity chair, thinking: Christ, but I'd like to live the way they do. I was shocked by their open display of such sensuality at first, of course, but the more I think about it the more I feel there's nothing wrong in having things like they do. Hell, they're happy, aren't they? That's obvious. And it's just as obvious that my marriage isn't the halcyon union Dawn thinks it is, that I've deluded myself into thinking it is. I'm a virile man, and goddamn it, I need sexual gratification; I need diversity, abandonment, not a sterile joining like a couple of disinterested animals brought together as strangers for the procreation of their young...
Stan felt anger begin to flush his face and neck, made almost savage by the liquor he had consumed during the evening. Dawn had acted like some Victorian prude, he told himself harshly; you'd think she'd never seen a prick before, or her own cunt for that matter. And the expression on her face at the sight of that man in the print licking the woman's pussy-it had been one of total revulsion, as if sex itself was something unutterably foul, a devil's spawn, a product of Puritanism's fire-and-brimstone hell; as if anything to do with bodily fusing was a sin to be tolerated because it was necessary!
Viciously, the anger reaching the danger point inside him now, Stan ripped his shirt and undershirt off and threw them onto the floor beside the chair. He stood there clad only in his shorts, listening to the shower behind the closed bathroom door. She's in there right now, the moralistic little bitch, he thought. Completely nude, soaping up those soft, beautiful breasts of hers and that nice tight little cunt, cleansing her privates of any foulness which might have tainted them by what she saw tonight. And then what? She'll come out here and give me a goddamned peck on the cheek and go right to sleep, while I seethe with frustration. I can hear her voice answering me if I ask her to make love: "Not tonight, honey; I'm too tired." Or not feeling well, or on the frigging rag, or with an upset stomach-any one of a dozen foundationless excuses to keep from doing the most natural, the most beautiful, act on this world...
Stan's brain suddenly began to visualize, through the haze of his anger, the lovely, supple form of his wife as she stood naked beneath the needle-point shower spray. Her high, pure white, berry-nippled, pliantly perfect tits robed with a mantle of soapsuds; her slim, soft, dimpled ass cheeks beaded with the hot water; her long blonde hair damp from the steam in the stall, flowing like soft silk over her alabaster skin; her natural blonde pubic triangle, thin and gossamer wispy, framing the perfect tender softness of her coral pink cunt lips; her long, slender model's legs tapering down from rich creamy thighs into perfect columns ...
And suddenly, Stan felt desire surge through his loins, hot fire that tingled maddeningly in his testicles and sent the thin cotton material of his shorts into a stretched, horizontal tent as his huge cock filled with blood and became as rigid as a thick, corrugated tree trunk. His heart began to plunge violently in his chest-partially from his sudden intense arousal and partially from his anger at his young, beautiful wife's old-maidish attitudes toward physical need and fulfillment. His prick was trembling with desire now, and almost unconsciously his hands pulled the shorts down to allow the smooth, rubbery head penis to leap into the free air.
He stepped out of the underpants, completely, nude, staring almost fixedly at the closed bathroom door across the pale-lighted room. Yes, she was in there-nude as he was nude, nude and lovely and desirable-and he was out here with a hard-on like some great diamond shaft. But what good was it going to do him? When she came out, and took a look at his cock, she would react as she always did: discomfort, fear at his prick's great size, shame at its exposure to her gaze. And she would go to sleep, and he would lose his erection after awhile, frustrated and discouraged, and go to sleep as well.. .
But not tonight! goddamn it, not tonight!
The thought jumped into Stan's mind all at once, and it was all-consuming. Not tonight! No, goddamn it, not tonight! Tonight he wasn't going to bow and scrape to her ridiculous wishes. Tonight he was going to fuck her! Yes, fuck her! Fuck his wife like a wife ought to be fucked, teach her a lesson, bring her around. No more goddamned cow-towing, no more frustrations, no more static, sterile sex.
Tonight he would ride-and ride hell-bent for leather!
His legs worked independent of his lust-filled, anger-hazed mind then, carried him forward across the bedroom with his blood-engorged cock swaying like some Roman General's sword ready for battle. He threw open the bathroom door, dimly heard the knob bounce sharply off the tile wall inside, and took two giant steps forward. His hand reached out and swept the shower curtain aside, and he leered in at his beautiful, naked wife standing beneath the cascading shower.
She was exactly as he had pictured her to be in the bedroom, with her up-thrust, symmetrically-formed tits lathered whitely and her blonde bush glistening with the hot water. His cock jerked spasmodically at the sight of her in the flesh, and his balls ached with the need for release of his overwhelming load of cum.
Dawn's mouth opened in a surprised "O" as she turned at the sound of the curtain being wrenched aside. Involuntarily, with a reaction born of her ingrained moralistic attitudes, she dropped the bar of soap she had been using and made a little-girlish attempt to hide her privates from her husband's view. "Stan!" she blurted. "What are you doing in here!"
His cock gave another leap as her unnecessarily modest, prudish actions sent a mixture of desire and rage coursing through him, feeding that which already existed within his body. "What the hell do you think I'm doing in here?" he snapped at her, licking saliva from his lips as he stared at her sculptured loveliness. He lowered one hand and encircled his lust-hardened prick, lifting it up as if presenting her with some inexplicably wonderful gift. "What do you think this is?"
Her eyes blinked and then lowered to the pulsating glans of his immense cock, bulging out like the grotesque head of some giant python held in his grip. She gasped softly, drawing back against the wall of the shower stall, her eyes widening now and what might have been fear entering them. "Stan..." she managed.
He felt a tremendous surge of power take control of him. He was the lord and master now, he was the Dominant partner, and the feeling split his lips in a wide, salacious smile of increasing lust. "I'm going to fuck you," he said to her, the words spilling past his lips without conscious consideration, although in his present state he wasn't at all sorry for them once they had voice. "I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before, you little puritanical bitch! Right here, right now! Right here on the bathroom floor, with your sweet little ass pounding off the cold tile!"
His foul, disgusting words, and their unmistakable meaning, caused Dawn to cry out in abject terror. Never had she heard such revolting things! And from her own husband, from the man she loved and who supposedly loved her! She couldn't believe it, but it was true-frighteningly, impossibly true! She pressed back against the wall as if trying to blend her body with it, somehow escape from the leering stranger who stood fondling his penis and testicles like a filthy pervert before her eyes; but there was no escape, no escape from what she knew to be inevitable...
Stan reached up and twisted the shower knobs, shutting off the hammering spray, his eyes not once leaving the exposed perfection of her femininity. His cock and balls felt as if they were weighted down with increasing amounts of lead, hot lead, and the swollen glans of his weapon ached and tingled with maddening intensity.
"I'm going to fuck you, sweetheart!" he said again. "I'm going to put this big cock of mine so far up into your hot little belly that you'll scream and beg for me to pump you full of cum!"
"Oh God, noooo!" Dawn squealed in anguish, her eyes living pools of uncomprehending terror now. "Stan, oh dear God, Stan don't ... don't.. . "
"The hell I won't!" he roared, still manipulating his great prick, drawing the foreskin back with tantalizing slowness, reveling in the command he had over his young wife at his moment. "I've had enough of your fucking prudishness, your outmoded and archaic attitudes toward lovemaking! I want a woman, not some sperm receptacle that just lies on a bed and prays for me to hurry so it'll be over and she can cleanse herself of my filth! A woman, Dawn, and by Christ I'm going to make one out of you tonight! I'm going to fuck you into a woman if I have to split you wide open to do it!"
With those words, Stan reached out and grabbed her by the arms, pulling her to him, his hands exploring her soft, sensitive, shower-wet flesh. His hot mouth sought hers out, found it, closed over it, and his tongue flashed searingly into the warm cavern of ner mouth. She fought against him, trying to break his pinning grip, trying to free her mouth from his questing one-but she was too weak against his powerful masculinity. She felt his turgid cock grind against her smooth, white belly, felt its seminally-lubricated head leave a snaillike trail across her clean white skin, and a sudden dread rose in her throat. No, no! her mind rebelled. This can't be happening! Raped, by my own husband gone berserk! Dear God, this is a nightmare, some evil, wicked figment of my subconscious mind ... I'll wake up and everything will be all right ... this isn't real, it isn't it isn't, it isn't.. .
Stan's strong arms pulled her out of the shower stall, onto the cold tile floor. She tried to rake his bare back with her nails, but he had her arms pinned in such a way that she was defenseless against him. He used the weight of his body to force her down onto the floor, blowing his hot and she thought, fetid breath into her mouth and face, his throbbing penis rubbing anticipatorily over her soft, resilient pubic hair, fouling it, despoiling it with his vicious, unwarranted lust.. .
Their writhing bodies were stretched out prone now, and Stan removed his mouth from Dawn's, trailed hot moist kisses down along her throat and over her chest to the rising globe of one perfectly nippled breast, taking the bud between his teeth, licking and sucking it into an involuntary hardness. His hand slipped between their bodies, the fingers sliding through the moist, softly wet pubic triangle and forcing their way between her tightly closed thighs, forcing the alabaster columns apart with his muscular digits. Then the palm of his hand was resting flatly against the warm, fluted lips of her cuntal slit, fingers tickling the region near her puckered anus as he began to slide his hand up and down with insinuating strokes in her naked crotch. His fingers teased the tight, elastic opening of her tender cuntal mouth, working their to bring involuntary lubrication from the walls as she twisted in his grip. His questing index finger found the tiny nub of her clitoris, and he exulted in the gasp of shock which rended itself from her throat at the contact of his probe on the quivering, miniature phallus. He manipulated her clit maddeningly, at the same time rubbing the slippery glans of his prick along the smoothness of her belly, back and forth, back and forth. The heat swirled in great rising waves in his scrotum, and he knew he was too aroused to be able to control his orgasm much longer.
He had to fuck his wife now, right this instant!
Stan raised up, holding Dawn's arms pinned at her sides, slipping one knee between her legs. She resisted his attempts to splay wide her thighs, and he pulled his lips back over his teeth. "You bitch! Spread those goddamned legs so I can see all of that pussy of yours! I've never seen it, and we've been married for six son-of-a-bitching months! Always with the light off, isn't that right, Dawn? Always in the dark. Well, not tonight! Tonight I'm going to look at your cunt, at all of it, before I fuck you! Now spread your goddamned legs, like a real woman.
There was something in his voice, in his lust-filmed eyes, which made Dawn obey his harsh command immediately. A tremor of fear wound its way rapidly along her flesh, for she had an instinctive feeling that he would hurt her, somehow injure her, if she didn't give in. Dear God she thought sickly, help me, give me strength! I don't understand any of this ... I can't fathom it. Help me understand what's come over Stan, the man I love. Has he taken leave of his senses, talking the way he is, acting the way he is ... God, I've given him everything a woman can give a man, haven't I? I've given him my love, my body, and yet he isn't satisfied ... is he some kind of ... of carnal worshipper like the Edgewaters? Is there inside him some kind of bestial quality that must be satisfied with a sick thing like this? What is it ... what?...
Stan grinned obscenely down at the spectacle which his horrified young wife's splaying of her legs had presented to his lusting gaze. Her cunt, so richly pink and moist and soft, the lips like velvet fleeced with downy blonde pubic hair, the clit quivering like a red rosebud on a dewy morn in the secret nest between her thighs, was one of the most exciting sights he had ever seen. He couldn't wait any longer, he just couldn't ... He released one of her arms, grabbing his cock as he lowered himself over the supine form of his trembling, frightened wife; he placed the bloated, purplish head at the entrance to her fear-quivering vagina, teasing it along the rich cuntal valley, poising, ready.. .
Suddenly, without warning, he levered forward with a vicious, almost gleeful cry and drove his great hot rod of hardened cockflesh into her vagina, reveling in the soft, buttery feel of her sensitive inner walls expanding around his invading cudgel, in the ecstatic delight which swirled through his balls at the touch of her cervix on the blood-raged knob when he had buried his rod to its fullest in the warm sheath of her helplessly cringing womanhood.
"AAAAHHHHuuuuuugggggghhhhhh!" Dawn screamed in pain at his brutal entrance, her hips jerking up and her legs rising off the cold floor almost involuntarily in protest to his forceful rape of her genitals. But Stan's hot, eager lips found her mouth, crushed down on hers to coke off her cries with his tongue filling the warm grotto as his cock was filling her cunt.
Stan began to saw in and out of her now with long, lunging strokes, pulling his shaft almost all the way out and then burying it completely again. Each time he flexed forward, the hairy sac of his testicles slapped resoundingly against her twitching, upturned buttocks. She ground her hips down against the tile in a futile attempt to escape, and her legs jerked wide on either side of his convulsing body.
"Stannnnn!" she screamed into his mouth. "Stan ... aaagggghhhh ... you're hurting ... meeeeeee!"
But he was mindless with lust now, with his need for release, with his need to ravage this woman who had for six months denied him what he had to have. His barbaric implement of torture fucked again and again with relentless drive into the defenseless passage between her widespread legs and he could feel the heat in his balls grow hotter and hotter.. .
Lying helpless beneath his impalement, tears of pain and humiliation and confusion moistening her cheeks, Dawn felt torn as under by the sheer heathen attack of her husband. She prayed for this rape to end, prayed for succor, for solitude to cry out her torment. Have your orgasm, her mind pleaded mutely. Please have your orgasm, Stan, please cum, please please please!
Then, in order to achieve what she so desperately wanted-her freedom,-Dawn endeavored to help her husband climax. She began to jerk and twist her hips in a circular motion, opening and closing her cuntal passage with a muscular action she had not previously thought possible. Stan was mewling into her mouth now, his heart hammering louder than her own, his hands sliding beneath her to knead and cup the resilient flesh of her ass cheeks as he sawed into her.
Then he pulled his mouth away and began to chant. "That's it, that's it, that's it! Fuck me, baby, fuck me fuck me! Ohhhhhhhh, yes, Dawn baby, fuck fuck fuck fuckkkkkkkk!"
She tried to shut her ears to the foul words, striving even harder to obey his command, churning her hips wildly, madly now, squeezing his prick with her vaginal muscles harder and harder ... and then she felt him go rigid in mid-stroke, heard him gasp once, twice, heard him cry out," Oh God, oh Jesus, I'm there I'm there, I'm going to pop my nuts ... yes yes yes I'm cuummmiinnggg!"
And Dawn felt the first jet of hot white sticky semen burst from his pistoning rod and flood wetly against her cervix as he heaved himself downward once again. That first stream was followed by another and another and another, and he was moaning incoherently now and his cock jerked and twitched in her pussy, emptying his load of cum in what she thought sickly was a never-ending torrent of degradation...
At last, it was over and Stan collapsed with a soft satiated expulsion of breath across her, his weight pressing her soft body hard against the tile floor. His penis began to deflate, finally slipping from the warm moist semen-inundated hole of his wife's sperm-flooded cunt, trailing her lubrication and his cum commingled as one to pool on the smooth floor beneath her still wide splayed legs.
Shame and revulsion were strong inside Dawn as she lay crushed beneath the spent form of her husband, and she let the hot tears fall openly from her glazed eyes. "Why, oh why, did you do this to me? Why did you make a sick mockery of all that we had together...? "
"Mockery," he repeated with his mouth pressed to the soft hollow of her throat. "I might have expected that kind of reaction from you, Dawn. You simply don't understand what a man needs, wants for himself and for his mate, do you? You refuse to allow yourself to become a woman, abandon yourself sexually..."
"Abandon myself?" she flung back at him. "To something like ... like this rape just now? Is that what you want out of marriage, out of our relationship? Bestial coupling?"
"What's the use?" he said, and raised himself up, moving off of her, looking down at her with a mixture of sadness and inadequacy now that he had had his anger and his passion released through the tube in his cock. "You'll never understand, Dawn. You'll just never understand."
"You raped me!" she cried defensively. "You took my body like I was a ... a common whore!"
"If it makes you feel better to believe that, then go ahead," muttered Stan as he got to his feet, his now limp prick swaying wetly against the hanging sac of his balls. "Maybe it'd be best if we just ... forgot about us, Dawn."
"You-you mean ... a divorce?"
"You said I raped you," he told her. "You don't want to be married to a rapist, to a man who treats you like a whore, do you?"
"I ... don't know what I want! Oh God, Stan, what's happened to you, to us, tonight? I don't understand..."
"There we go again," he said between pursed lips, and without further conversation he turned and left the bathroom, slamming the door behind him with a distinct note of finality.
Dawn lay there, hurt both physically and mentally, on the cold floor and there was no desire in her to get up, to leave this scene of carnal abuse. She just wanted to lay there, sick and tormented, and try to sort out the confused thoughts which spun inside her brain. But she found that such was useless, that she was unable to sort out any rational conclusions at all.
Finally, she got to her feet and walked painfully through the bedroom, not looking at Stan in the bed at all, and cried herself to sleep alone in the guest room off the kitchen.
* * *
The phone call from Faith Edgewater came into Stan's office in the Psychology Department of Abbington College at a few minutes past two the following afternoon. Stan had taught his first two classes that morning as per usual, but he had found that he wasn't able to concentrate at all on his lecture subject and had finally decided it was useless and cancelled his other classes with written notes on the Psych Hall doors.
He had spent the remainder of the day, until the call came through, just sitting in his office and brooding. He had felt very bad upon awakening that morning about what he had done the previous night; not that he felt any different about what their relationship ought to be, or what was the matter with his wife's attitude toward sex. No, it was just that practically raping her-she had been right about that, he realized in the cold, sober light of day-wasn't the answer to the problem, wasn't the proper approach to making their marriage a truly compatible and happy one on all levels.
He had tried to apologize to Dawn in the kitchen, while she was making breakfast, telling her that he had been drunk and had lost his head. He had almost begged for forgiveness, hoping because he really did love his wife and wanted their marriage to work that she would overlook last night's escapade, hoping as well that once she did he would be able in some more rational way to convince her that her whole prudish way of thinking was impractical and untenable and unacceptable. But Dawn hadn't spoken to him at all, hadn't answered his questions or acknowledged his apologies, avoiding his eyes and drawing away from his touch as if he was a carrier of the bubonic plague. Finally, he had given up in frustrated anger and helplessness, and left the house without saying a good-bye or another word.
He had called her about eleven, still feeling bad about what had happened, and she had deigned to talk to him then-but only in monosyllables. He had tried to tell her again how sorry he was, and again she had refused to listen, changing the subject in a cold flat tone to that evening's dinner menu. Both of them said their good-byes in strained voices.
Stan had been morose and unhappy and depressed when Faith called. He had picked up the receiver, expecting it to be from one of the other professors-or possibly even from Dawn-and then had frowned when he heard Faith Edgewater's soft, mellifluous voice on the other end of the wire. Could he come over to her cottage at his convenience that afternoon? she wanted to know. It wasn't anything really urgent, but she wanted to talk to him about a certain matter concerning both of them. Stan had frowned even more deeply at this mysterious summons, but had finally said that he would be there in half an hour.
Now, as he knocked on the Edgewaters' front door, he wondered again, as he had on the walk across campus from his office, what it was the beauteous Faith wanted of him. Did it have something to do with the display of open sensuality of the night before? Perhaps she intended to apologize, and felt uneasy doing so on the phone. But then again, she hadn't sounded particularly apologetic on the telephone, more as if she was excited about something...
The door opened as Stan raised his hand to knock a second time, and his breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the slim, voluptuous form of his superior's wife standing in the hallway before him. She wore a pair of bikini shorts and a thin, brightly colored halter that accentuated the high, ripe beauty of her full rounded tits. The indentation of her navel in the flat plane of her milky stomach was somehow oddly exciting to Stan, and he had to fight consciously to raise his eyes from her lush curves to her smiling face.
"Well, here I am," he told her lightly. "As promised."
"Come in, Stan," she said, and stood aside for him. As he passed her, she seemed to step forward so that the globular resiliency of her perfect breasts brushed provocatively against his arm. He shivered involuntarily at the electric contact of the flesh of this alluring woman, but he moved forward quickly, knowing that it was dangerous to harbor any licentious thoughts about Faith Edgewater. He walked into the living room, and Faith followed him, crossing diagonally to the bar, turning there and lifting a large, crystal decanter from its surface.
"I've made a pitcher of martinis," she said in a throaty purr. "Would you like one?"
"Well..." he hesitated, feeling a small flush start on his neck. He felt uncomfortable for some inexplicable reason, as if being here with Faith Edgewater was somehow wicked; as if there was the threat of something sinfully portentive, palpably exciting, in the very air he was breathing. But then he told himself that he was being silly, overreacting because of what had happened last night. What the hell, why shouldn't he have a drink? Christ knew, he could use one right now. He said, "All right. Thanks, Faith."
"Not at all," she said, pouring a double into an old-fashioned glass and only a slightly weaker drink for herself into a similar container. She carried the drinks across the room, handed Stan his; she stood very close to him, and he could feel her breath warm and sweet and musky on his face. She was smiling almost wickedly, with her lips parted moistly and her pink tongue darting out now and then to lick the soft, soft surface, and he felt a quick tingling begin in his genitals. He tried to will it away, feeling uncomfortable once again, but it persisted as his eyes once more traveled over her full-blown body reflexively, covetously.
Faith smiled secretly as she saw the desire building in his eyes. This was going to be easy, she told herself, even easier than she and Leland had anticipated. She studied Stan's muscular body, sneaking a look at the faint outline of his manhood beneath the trousers he wore, and she felt her pussy begin to moisten expectantly. Oh, I'll bet 'he has a fine big cock, she thought. I'll bet it's really very big, and I'm going to enjoy sucking it; sucking every last drop of his cum right out of it. Ohhh, but it will be good! It's always good, of course, but this is going to be something special, I can tell-I can always tell ...
She watched Stan take a sip of the strong, very dry martini, then take another. She said, "Is it all right?"
"Mmmmm, fine," he said, nodding, sipping again. He looked into her eyes, saw little glistening pools there, and he couldn't help but compare her to his wife, to Dawn. Oh no, she wouldn't be prudish in bed, of that he was certain. She would be hell on wheels, wild and abandoned, using every muscle and sinew in her body to please her partner ... a real woman, a sensual woman, the kind of woman he wished Dawn would become...
Dawn, he had to stop thinking such thoughts! It sure as hell wasn't doing him any good. He cleared his throat. "Well, now," he said. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
"Actually," Faith said sultrily, "it's something I wanted to show you, Stan."
"Show me?"
"Yes. It's upstairs, in the bedroom."
Stan was perplexed, and he finished the last of his martini. Bedroom? he thought. What could she possibly have to show him in the bedroom?
Faith said, "Let me get you another drink before we go up?"
Stan started to protest, but the double he had just consumed seemed somehow to have allayed his fears of moments earlier. Why not? he mused. He had a weakness for martinis, anyway. He proffered his glass, and Faith took it, poured him another and freshened her own. Then she walked slowly across the room, innerly secure at the knowledge that his eyes followed her undulating hips hungrily as she moved. She stopped at the doorway, looking back over her shoulder in a theatrical pose of sexuality that she had affected over the years. "Coming, Stan?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, following her as she started toward the staircase at the far end of the hallway outside. His voice felt strangely thick, and not the kind of thickness that came from imbibing too many martinis either.
Following her up the stairs, Stan marveled at the tight elasticity of her buttocks beneath the bikini shorts, staring greedily at the firm white flesh which overflowed around the taut material; at the way the vertebrae rippled in her back as she moved, like a predatory cat; at the sharply defined crevice between her globular ass cheeks ... He took another quick sip of his second martini. Damn, but he was getting half a hard-on just watching her walk...
At the head of the stairs, Faith turned toward a closed door part way along the railed landing. Once there, she looked back at Stan and said, "You wait out here for a minute, Stan, like a dear. I'll call you when I want you to come in."
"But-" he began, but she had already opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind her.
Stan crossed to the closed door and stood looking at it, sipping again at his martini. His brain was becoming somewhat fuzzy from the strong gin now, although he took no notice of it. Wonder what it is she's got in there? he thought. Hell, the way she's acting it's almost as if she's trying to, well, seduce me ... But that's ridiculous! What would a woman like Faith Edge-water want with me? Oh sure, she's one of those sensual, full-blooded women who need a lot of loving to keep them happy, but LeLand looks as if he could handle her needs. Probably just my imagination; probably something very innocent in back of all this...
"You can come in now, Stan," Faith called from behind the closed door.
He shrugged, took one final sip from his martini, and stepped forward to open the door. He took a step into the brightly lit bedroom-the shades were opened wide, and the ceiling light as well as the two lamps on the tables on either side of the wide double bed were on-and then he froze immobile, his eyes bulging wide at the tremendously exciting spectacle which assailed his eyes. A gasp burst involuntarily from his throat.
Faith Edgewater stood beside the bed, facing him, legs splayed wide apart-completely nude!
And she was finger fucking herself!
Her head and shoulders were pulled back, lifting her high startlingly white breasts like perfect twin globes of the finest sculpture, topped with wide brownish-pink areolae and jutting, hardened nipples of the most exquisite pink. The insides of her creamy white thighs were moist from the flowing juices of her passion-flowered vaginal orifice, and her hands were resting palm-down on her abdomen, thumb and forefinger of her left spreading open the soft glistening auburn-hair lined cunt lips to reveal the oscillating bud of her large, bright red clitoris. With the index finger of her right hand, she teased and manipulated the swollen knob with maddening dexterity, causing more rivulets of her passion juice to trail down her velvety thighs, teasing the moist pink slit with her other fingers as she continued to rub her clit. Her lips were parted wetly, and there was a look of lustful pleasure on her sheened face, framed in the sweeping fall of her long, rich auburn hair, strands of which curled around her neck and rested on the upturned globes of her alabaster-and-blue-veined tits.
Stan swallowed once, twice, and through his widened eyes he saw her finger move faster and faster on her clitoris; she splayed her legs still wider, thrusting her pelvis upward as she did so to reveal more fully her actions to his disbelieving eyes. "My God!" he managed in a strangled gasp, and took a long drink from his glass reflexively, draining it. "Faith ... God, Faith what.. . ? "
"Do you like what you see, Stan?" she asked in a crooning, sex-husky voice. "Do you like my body, Stan? Do you like to watch me play with myself, play with my cunt this way? It feels good, Stan honey ... it feels soo gooddddddd!
Almost as good as it would feel if you were doing it...."
In conscious-less response to the lewdness of her words, Stan felt his cock give a jerking twitch in his trousers and his balls begin to tingle with mounting excitation. Holy God! he thought. I've never seen anything like this in my life! She ... she must be some kind of nymphomaniac or something, doing a thing like this! Jesus, she wants me to lay her, that's obvious, that's why she got me over here today ... but why? Why me? She must have taken a liking to me for some reason, and she can't help herself ... But I can't let her do it, for the love of God! I'm a married man-with troubled waters in the marriage, yes, but nonetheless married ... I can't do anything with her, I can't, I can't!
"You're getting a hard-on, aren't you, Stan?" Faith whispered as she continued to manipulate her pussy. "I can see that you are, I can see that big nice cock of yours bulging out the front of your pants there!"
Christ! Stan thought, but she was right; he did have a hard-on-how could he help but have one with her standing there, naked and beautiful, a goddess in the flesh, masturbating lewdly the way she was? "Faith..." he began, and then paused, swallowing again. "Faith, for God's sake stop it, stop this!"
"I don't want to stop," she told him, moistening her lips provocatively and her fingers went faster and faster. "It feels too good, Stan; my pussy feels too good when I play with it like this."
Run! Stan's brain warned. Run, get out of here! Now, right now! Run before it's too late, and you can't control yourself any longer ... But he couldn't run, couldn't move; he was frozen there, watching her, the martinis he had just consumed adding fuel to the passion which her wanton actions had brought forth in his body, breaking down his inhibitions and his moral restraints and replacing them with fiery lust. I'm going to do it, he thought wonderingly in that moment. I'm going to be unfaithful to my wife ... I'm standing here and I know what I'm about to do, and yet I don't care ... strange, so strange, but goddamn it's her fault-Dawn's fault-if she was any kind of a wife, any kind of a sex partner, I wouldn't need to resort to infidelity ... but she isn't, and I'm starved for a woman like Faith, a wild and free-spirited woman, a woman who wants sex for the sake of sex, who'll stand before a man and masturbate to get him aroused...
"You know what I want, don't you Stan honey?" Faith intoned, her hand seeming to Stan to be a blur at her pubic triangle now. "I can tell it on your face, in your eyes, that you know what I want. I want you, Stan; I want that cock of yours because I know it will be a nice big hard cock. I want to suck your cock, Stan. Stan, honey, I want to take your cock in my mouth and suck it and suck it and suck it until it's dry. Would you like that, Stan? Would you?"
He couldn't control himself any longer. The last vestiges of his conscience, of his sanity, melted away in a blinding surge of desire-and he passed the point of no return. "Yes!" he heard himself scream out to her. "Yes, Faith, yes yes yes! I want you to suck my cock! I want nothing in the world more at this minute than to have you suck my cock until I cum in your mouth!"
Faith laughed softly, deep in her throat, and her fingers ceased their wild plunging in her pinkly moist furrow. She stood now with her hands held out to him, a nude sex-sheened Venus waiting for her Jupiter to come to her, her lubrication still flowing down her inner legs, mouth half-parted and eyes hald-lidded in ultimate sensuality. "Then come here, lover," she whispered invitingly. "Come here and get naked. Let me see that big hard wonderful cock of yours, let me see how well hung you are, lover. Show it to me, show it to me."
Mutely, blindly, with liquor fogging his brain to almost insensate proportions, Stan stepped forward to stand directly in front of her. Then his hands dipped to his belt and he began to take his clothes off, hurrying when Faith raised her hands to cup and knead her firm, full, hard-nippled tits teasingly, smiling hungrily at him all the while. He took off his trousers, his shirt, and stepped out of his underpants, breathing with ragged desire now.
His thick, blood-enraged, purplish-veined prick stood out from his hirsute groin like some gigantic battle standard, immobile and yet vibrating as if with some inner power waiting to be unleashed. His balls hung heavy, far down between his thighs, and Faith stared with moist-lipped approval at the seminal fluid oozing in shiny droplets from the blind eye in the swollen glans of his member.
"It's every bit like I thought it would be!" she breathed, her tongue flicking out like some lizard about to strike an unsuspecting insect. And then she reached out both hands and encircled his great weapon, squeezing it gently, rubbing her long sharp nails tantalizingly over the urethra tube and the slick head and the hairy base, holding it lovingly, as if it was a priceless object d'art in some wealthy museum. She made little crooning sounds of pleasure deep in her slim throat.
The touch of her hands on his hot, feverish prick sent desire racing rampant through Stan's loins, into his belly, into his brain. Oh God, she knew how to fondle a man, how to get him so hot he thought he was going to blow his mind as well as his load! He was half-insane with lust for her.. .
"You feel good, lover," Faith breathed, her breath hot and warm and sweet on his face. "Your cock feels so good in my hands. It's going to feel even better when I put it in my mouth, when I run my tongue over and around the head, when I take it all the way back into my throat, when I suck the cum right out of your balls..."
A small, tortured cry burst from Stan's throat and he reached out and pulled her to him, planting moist hot kisses on her face and neck and throat while she continued to stroke his prick. Then she was guiding him down, down onto the softness of the bed, rolling him with a expertise born of years of practice onto his back, kneeling between his wide-splayed legs while she rubbed his cock with abandon between her soft, moist palms. She lowered her head, positioning it over his up-thrust cock between her hands, and then raised her eyes to look up at his contorted, flushed face.
"I'm going to suck you now," she crooned.
"Yes, yes, suck me now!" Stan moaned crazily.
"Suck you until you cum."
"Yesyesyessssss, suck me until I cum!"
Faith smiled her secret smile, took one last look at Stan's flailing head, and then darted down like a striking bird of prey to flick her tongue teasingly around the seminally-lubricated glans of his lust-hardened rod, again and again, eliciting mewls of delight from Stan's throat. Then she dipped further down, took the head into the warm, soft cavern of her mouth.
"Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!" he wailed at the salacious contact.
Faith began to suck him in earnest, using every bit of knowledge she had acquired throughout her varied and considerable career...
And hidden in the closet across the room, with an 8mm camera raised to a concealed peephole in the inlaid and ornate wood of the door, a naked Leland Edgewater watched with pride, arousal, and downright awe as his wife sucked his protege, Stan Ballard's large hardened cock.
Damn, but she knew how to give a head job! he thought, holding the camera steady, recording the entire scene-complete with zoom lens close-ups-which he was watching being enacted in his bed. There was no woman he had ever met in this country or in France, where he had chanced upon Faith-who was able to suck cock like she could. Some women, he reflected, were born to raise children or become actresses or seek out business careers. But Faith was born to suck cock, no doubt about it. It was a pleasure to watch her work, watch the consummate skill with which her head and tongue and lips and hands all worked in unison on the cock of Stan Ballard. She was supposed to go easy. But even though, he couldn't last much longer, that was for sure; but it would be long enough, just long enough...
And tomorrow, after the film was processed, it would be his, LeLand Edgewater's, turn at bat. He licked his lips anticipatorily as he thought of Dawn Ballard's firm, ripe young body, and how it would feel beneath his plunging penis. He even lowered one hand and began to lightly rub his hardened prick, feeling the heat build in his balls as he watched, and thought about what the future held in store for him...
The camera continued to whir softly, almost inaudibly, in his sure, steady grip.
CHAPTER 3
Stan's cock was almost as beautifully huge as LeLand's, thought Faith as she sucked joyously. LeLand had been so right-Stan had been easy to seduce, and his idea of her being the first, rather than him going after the woman right away as he usually did was marvelous! It gave her that much more time to travel the mysteries of this new male body, enjoy a different cock and balls, and excite in the new w inkles of old games. Yes, the Ballards had been an excellent choice, and Faith hoped that Dawn was as willing as Stan was proving to be.
She felt an additional tingle of sexual thrill at the thought that she and Stan were being seen-no, more than being seen, actually being recorded for erotic posterity on film. There, behind that closet door with its inlaid peep-hole, was her husband, spying on them and using the 8mm movie camera, probably masturbating while running the camera. He was never one to hold in his passion....
The whole lewd idea sent shivers of pleasure through her body, for she loved to have her nakedness displayed and paraded before lust perverted voyeurs. How lucky she had been to find such an understanding and cooperative man as LeLand, and how fortunate that he loved her enough to take her from that house in LeHavre. For awhile there, she thought she'd never be able to get out of there and back to the States-
She returned with gusto to the prick at hand, and renewed vigorously the task of making Stan spurt his thick cum into her waiting gullet. Her mind steamed with the credo of his magnificent sawings and she tasted his genital piquancy, the tang sending wild tremors of delight coursing through her loins. She ravished her flicking warm tongue all along its base and wide underside of the coronel ridge, sticky and protruding from his thick foreskin, and washed and played with it in ever increasing caresses. The crown of her head rested on his inner leg as she managed to slit and tease the tiny hole in his bloated glans with the tip of her tongue, and then she ran her lapping strokes down his purplish, wet shaft to the hirsute sac of his testicles, his soft pubic hairs tickling her chin and cheeks and lips as her saliva dribbled freely between the valley of his buttocks to the bed below.
She removed his hardened cock for a moment, and blew on it tenderly. The cool rush of air made Stan moan with tingling agony, and then she wrapped her fingers around its girth and began to beat it up and down, up and down, harder and harder and faster and faster. All the while she gazed at its vibrating shanks, her lips pulled back in contorted frenzy. Then she couldn't stand it any longer, and she buried her face in his writhing groin, coating his balls with hungry sweeps of her tongue, her mouth bending to kiss as much of his salient flesh as possible. Stan groveled in the bed sheets, groaning over and over and raising his legs and opening them wider so as to let Faith have fuller access to his cock and testicles. She moved over him, kneeling nakedly between his open thighs and she continued to manipulate and tongue him, squeezing and jerking his throbbing penis with her tempestuous hand. He squirmed and arched his back, exposing the brown puckered ring of his anus to her...
This had all been so new to Stan. She was actually seducing him! Wild ... completely, mind-blowingly wild! How long he had wanted the downy-soft kisses of a woman upon his erect cock, how long he had dreamed of being sucked to climax and shooting his hot, seething sperm into a female mouth ... and here he was, doing just that with an absolutely ravishing female! If only Dawn had wanted to do this to him, and he in turn kissing her cunt ... Daivn, Dawn, her name revolved in his fevered brain, Dawn, I ivish this was you ... and how I ivish I could lick and tease your hot, young cunt ...
His wife's name echoed and re-echoed through his brain, and a small section of it tried to feel shame and guilt, but he let the thoughts slip away ... the complete abandonment of this vamp's conquesting mouth overwhelmed him and successfully blotted out any reflections save the delicious debauchery of his turgid penis.
Dawn's theory of modesty and proper love-making seemed like a doctrine of the Middle Ages, and he was only bothered by it for a split moment before the spasmodic rhythm of Faith's finely honed tongue played an overriding melody upon his swollen organ, and a moan began to build up in the deep recesses of his chest.
Faith licked along the cord-like ridge between his widespread buttocks, circling with taunting accuracy around his sphincter-puckered anus, painting his skin with the saliva of love, and then she stiffened her tongue and darted it into the little opening of his bowels. She was wild with passion and sensations, her loins fermenting with the desire of his building cum. God! she couldn't wait to taste his semen hit the roof of her mouth! She had to suck him dry ... it was her release as well as his, and inside, her, her own erotic foamings were speeding to a break-neck orgasm ... Quickly she trailed her tongue over his sperm-churned scrotum and up along his purplish sheening shaft to the pulsating, blood-filled head. And then she slipped her mouth like a warm, wet glove down over it again, sucking and sucking and sucking...
And suddenly Stan began to stiffen as though he had been hit by an epileptic fit. He cried out in a strangled voice, "AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!"I'm ... I'm ... I'm cum ... cum ... cummiiinnnggg!"
Faith knew he was cumming on strong, and she began to twist and wrench herself with renewed frenzy, biting and nibbling his jerking cock as if it were the sole sustinance of life itself. She desperately swallowed the hot spurts of milky semen, her mouth salivating with enrapturement at the liquid male milk filling her cheeks. He rammed his penis yet deeper in her throat, his long and angry cock continuing to spill its vengeance of searing hot semen into her already sperm filled belly. She clasped her lips in a tight oval as she sucked and her Adam's apple bobbled in its fevered attempt to control the gushing stream. She twirled her tongue around the jumping prick so as to not lose one precious droplet, and she thought his balls were bottomless boilers of cum as the seemingly unending torrent kept on. His groans of pleasure incited her to greater effort, and then....
She too came! Cat-like, she mewled out her own release, still never forgetting her duties to his cock, but she wriggled her own squirming buttocks around and her hands clawed at the sheets of the bed as the wave of pillaging climax rolled through her. The juices of her milking cunt flowed and she arched her back, bucking wildly as the secretions ran down her legs in sticky warmth. She thrust her hungrily gulping mouth further upon his penis, absorbing the mammoth engorgement to its hilt as the last rain of molten lava valcanoed deep into her throat.
Stan's cock began to deflate and she waited for a moment, praying for more, and then she lifted her head and his prick slid from her glistening lips with a wet sucking sound. She looked up, across his still heaving chest and smiled at Stan, a lewd trail of semen dribbling from her lips to the head of his now limp cock like some thick spider's web of passion.
A long moment passed. Then Faith said in a quiet voice, "That was beautiful, Stan. It really was. I don't know when I've sucked a cock with more pleasure."
"Yeah," he replied. He lay there, satiated, completely fulfilled. He knew that he should feel shame and remorse over what he had done-what he had allowed to be done-but he was still feeling the aftereffects of his orgasm, and the first stirring waves of self-deprecation had not started yet. He felt only like a man, a full-blooded, virile man who had been satisfied by a true, sensual woman. With Dawn, his wife, he had never really known that feeling, but had only known a vague sense of something the matter with his lovemaking, even though he realized that the fault lay with her, with her inability to respond to a man's sexual drives.
But as he thought of Dawn and her inadequacies, he also started to think of how much he loved her, for in spite of her short-comings, she was still a good and sweet young woman, and his choice. Yes, his choice even over this wild and tempestuous tiger which lay next to him on her bed ... and the thoughts of his wife began to invade the satiation of his brain and the first vestiges of guilt seeped in. Later they would amplify, he knew, and consume him with self-loathing and self-disgust at his inability to control his carnal lust.
Oh God, Dawn, what have I done? I love you, I don't want to hurt you ... but I have, and I know that I won't be able to keep my infidelity a secret from you for long....You'll know that I have been with another woman, even if you never suspect it was Faith Edgewater, and when you do, I won't blame you if you leave me ... God knows between last night and today, You'll have the grounds...
"What are you so serious about, lover?" Faith asked, rolling over on her stomach and propping her chin up with her hand.
"Nothing," he replied morosely. He couldn't meet her eyes. God, how can I face Dawn now ? She'll leave me ... leave me ... leave me ... The combined revulsion over his rape of his wife the night before, his subsequent act of adultery just now, his fear of discovery and his wife's loss of love and respect for him rose like a menacing thundercloud to blanket his mind with agony. He felt sick, closed in, trapped...
"I bet you're thinking of Dawn," Faith said softly.
"What of it?"
"I don't think you should take our little dalliance so hard, that's all. We had fun, and that's what counts. I won't tell Dawn, if that's what you're worried about."
Stan suddenly sat up and glared at Faith. "No, it's not. It's just that I should have never allowed this to happen in the first place." He jumped from the bed and began to put his clothes on hastily. "I'm going," he said tersely.
"What? Oh no, honey, not now!" Faith frowned and wriggled with practiced eroticism on the covers. "C'mon back to me and let's play some more. Don't you want to fuck me?"
"No!"
Stan only wanted to get away ... to run and run and then crawl away and hide somewhere. To take a shower in disinfectant and cleanse the foul, rotten feeling which covered his skin ... to turn the clock back and control his sexual fire and delete his rampage in the bathroom or his visit to this den of iniquity today ... but it was too late ... everything was too late ... and he knew that in spite of his running, he'd have to pay eventually.
"Please, lover..." Faith cried out after him as he started out of the bedroom. "I'm not finished...."
"I am. For good," he snapped back.
He raced down the stairs, and barely heard the angry, taunting words of the woman scorned upstairs. "Go on, go to your poor, innocent wife ... see if I care, you bastard! See if you ever get another chance at me...."
* * *
Leland Edgewater chuckled maliciously as he walked along Franklin Avenue from his cottage. He carried the metal tin carefully under his arm, being cautious that no damage came to it, and in his other hand he held the small movie projector. Everything had gone so well, he mused as he strolled along, even better than he had dreamed. Now for the final blow....
There was plenty of film to show. Faith had done her part well. But of course, she was inspired in her role; no question about that. She loved to suck cock, any cock, all cock ... and Stan's was no exception. It was recorded in beautiful living color; all the writhing, all the humping, all the zoom-lensed close-ups of the pole of Stan's penis invading the mouth of his wife ... just thinking of the scene in his mind made Edgewater's cock spring a bit, bulging out his tight slacks in the front.
He chuckled again, his mind remembering the part he didn't film, when Stan had jumped up and left, obviously distraught with guilt and frustration. Christ, but Faith was mad! She was almost ready to blow the works right then, just to get even, and it had taken swift action to prevent her from doing something rash. Ah yes ... he had stepped from the confines of the closet, naked, his giant cock still erect from the overwhelming sensuality of watching her suck another man's sperm-bloated penis to climax, and she was soon accepting his cock in her cunt, heaving and panting with the thousand delights of a hundred explosions ... a perfect reward for his hours of patient waiting. She had been a demon, he thought, and once satisfied-right around dinner time-she had calmed down enough from Stain's rebuff to accept the reason why she had been so treated. She had smiled and nodded her head as Edgewater had explained that later she would be able to get all of Stan she wanted; maybe more, if Stan was hard to please.
The long night of processing was over, and there had been the fine fuck at three a.m. this morning when he had awakened Faith to show her the finished print. Turned her on something fierce! There was the strange assuredness in Edgewater that it was going to wreak its same stimulating havoc upon young innocent Dawn Ballard in just a few minutes...
At the street which ran parallel to the tennis court, only in the opposite direction, Edgewater turned left and followed the small lane down three houses to one which was very similar to his own. It was slightly smaller and Stan had not gotten around to painting it yet, but it was fairly well kept up and the yard showed consummate attention. Dawn, he knew from Stan's boasting, had a green thumb and the colorful flowers and shrubs were gardened and healthy. He knocked on the front door and it opened almost immediately.
"Hello, Dawn," he said, "May I come in?"
Dawn stood, wiping her hands on her apron, a mixture of confusion and annoyance traced across her features. She really didn't want to see Edge-water again, not after what had happened two nights ago. It had been those filthy objects of his which had set Stan off, she felt, that and the heavy drinking. Stan would never have been so violent, so much like a rutting moose, if he had not been aroused to such sexual desire by the pornography.
She was mad and hurt and very, very upset.
"I ... I...." she faltered, caught between her feelings and her inbred politeness. Egewater was, after all, still Stan's superior, and in spite of what had happened, she did not want to damage her husband's career. "I guess so, Dr. Edgewater."
"Leland," he corrected, stepping inside. He looked around the nondescript hallway and living room, filled as they were with a clean but old melange of furniture. "A very pleasant place you have here," he said dutifully.
"Thank you." Dawn then noticed the film case and projector he was carrying. "What can I do for you ... Leland?" she asked, shutting the door.
"Mix me a drink," he replied with a smile.
"A ... a drink?"
"Yes, and I think you should have one yourself."
"Oh no, I don't drink this early in the day, thank you, but I'll be glad to mix you one. What'll you have?"
"Bourbon." He set the case and the projector down and then frowned. "I came here," he began, his voice taking on a peculiarly serious quality, "because I have some bad news to tell you."
Dawn came out of the kitchen, drink in hand. "Oh?"
"Yes." He frowned as though unsure of how to phrase a rather delicate point. "I ... I really don't know how to put this, I'm afraid. It's rather embarrassing."
A cold wave of fright began to creep along Dawn's backbone. It was as she had a premonition of some disastrous happening ... in the back of her mind a small warning buzzer sounded and the pit of her stomach rolled with clamminess.
Leland took the drink but did not sip it. He held it ready for the moment she would need it for strength. "Tell me," he said in a low tone, "Do you know where your husband is right now?"
Dawn was taken aback momentarily. What a crazy question! Of course she knew! "He's in his office," she answered, "His next class isn't until two. You know that."
"I know about his class schedule, but I don't think he's in his office, Dawn." He paused for effect. Then he said, "He's with my wife."
"With Faith? Why would he be with her?"
Leland coughed delicately.
"Are you insinuating...! " Dawn's voice rose unsteadily as she tried to grasp control of what she was thinking.
"I'm not insinuating anything, Dawn. I'm stating a fact. Faith is a woman who sometimes has ... trouble controlling herself. It's happened before, and I'm afraid it's happening again, right now this instance. She's a damned pretty woman, and well, she's had her way with men before."
Dawn's mind was a swirl of confusion, and without noticing it, she took the drink from Edgewater and swallowed deeply. The bourbon coursed down her throat, and while it did nothing for her mind, it seemed to steady her nerves a bit. She drank again. What Edgewater was saying was impossible for her to accept. It was inconceivable that her Stan would ever submit to Faith Edgewater. No! It was absurd what he was telling her. She knew her husband; he was strictly a one-woman man...
"I realize it's a shock, Dawn," Edgewater said in a consoling tone, "You're thinking that I'm either crazy or that there's something going on you can't imagine. Well, take my word for it. I'm far from being crazy."
Dawn shook her head numbly.
"Here. Drink some more, Dawn. It'll help." Edgewater pressed the glass into her hand and then stepped away. Perfect, perfect, he thought to himself. To Dawn, he said, "That's why I brought the projector along, Dawn, to prove it to you. I happen to have found a film in Faith's possessions accidentally last night, and I was shocked. Evidently there's more going on than just an affair."
"You're not afraid of what you may find out, are you? You're not afraid that instead of proving me wrong, it will show me correct."
"No, no I'm not!"
"All right, then let me show the pictures. That will set the record straight." Edgewater smiled wisely and turned to the projector. "Let's see, if you'll pull the shades, I think that I can use the bare wall there to show the film."
While he set up the equipment, Dawn stayed in the background, continually sipping on the bourbon she had poured for Edgewater. She finished the glass and walked into the kitchen, pouring another tumbler full of the bourbon. Perhaps Leland is tight He seems so sure ... Has Stan found another woman, found some slut who will do all those perverted acts he wanted me to do? And is that other woman his superior's wife? Oh my God! How sick and horrible this is!
She moaned, and taking the bourbon bottle by the neck, she went back in the living room, just as Edgewater was threading the film through the sprockets of the projector. Stan has changed ... no doubt about that. His rape of me on the bathroom floor ... his spiteful, filthy words to me, the one person he said he loved ... yes, there had been some of the old Stan in the phone call yesterday, and his contriteness last night ... but it had ended bitterly. His nerves were on edge I thought then, as though he was deeply secret of his perverse affair with that bitch, that nymphomaniac! He had ended up calling me more names ... I was in tears ... and then he said he was sorry. Sorry, she thought bitterly as Edgewater turned off the lights, like hell he was sorry! Not if what is on the film is as Leland says!
Edgewater flicked on the switch and against the coarse grained wall of plaster, the projector threw a square of eerie light. There was some flickerings, and then the first picture came on. It was blurred, out of focus, but then with a deft manipulation of the lense, Edgewater brought in the action to full clarity.
Dawn had thought she was ready for it, but when she saw her husband and Faith Edgewater naked as new born children on the bed, her mind shattered. "Oh no ... no it can't be!" She moaned, her cries of anguish like a sound track to the film. "I don't believe it!"
Edgewater remained with his shocked and indignant expression as he saw for the third time the scene of his wife sucking Stan Ballard's hardened cock. They were lying once again on the bed, their bodies embraced in the age-old custom of oral contact, both squirming and writhing as though demons possessed. Once more Stan's upraised penis bobbed wildly in and out of Faith's tender mouth. Inwardly Edgewater glowed with sadistic satisfaction, and he felt his cock harden in his pants.
He brushed against the now sobbing Dawn, feeling her firm curves mold themselves to his body and he had a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to strip his clothes off and take the girl as she stood. But he knew enough about women, he knew her, to as certain that this was not the right moment. It would take more footage, more bourbon before the horrified and helpless shock in Dawn turned to anger and then thoughts of revenge. A scorned and wronged woman will do most anything against her mate and would abandon a lifetime of moral living to do it. He merely had to bide his time...
She gasped again. "I don't believe it!"
Edgewater folded his arms and smiled cynically. "It's all there, Dawn, for you to see. It's true, I'm afraid, just like I said it was."
"They're sick! They're worse than beasts, doing that!" She tried to blank out the horrid movie, shutting her eyes from the ghastly flickering light, yet her mind's eye kept conjuring up the horrible lewdness of Stan having his penis sucked by Faith Edgewater. How could he do such a thing? She remembered the previous night again and his irritability, and she could certainly see why he was...
Almost hypnotically Dawn once more viewed the fantastic sight on the make-shift screen. All she saw or cared about was the fellatio being performed on the bed, and she gaped with disbelief as her eyes absorbed the passionate writhing. Faith Edgewater was at a fever pitch, her mouth straining to swallow whole the rigid penis pumping between her ovaled lips, and as Dawn watched, Faith buried the cock in her cheeks until Stan's curly public hair hit her chin and only a small glistening bit of his fleshy rod was visible.
Dawn took another long and deep swallow from the glass, and involuntarily her liquor relaxed torso began to yaw with Dawn's undulating oral gymnastics. "I can't stand it!" she groaned, "Please ... stop the film! I've seen enough!" Her words were a babble, a jumble of near incoherency, and Edgewater ignored her pleading request. He knew that she was ready to crack, and it was time to move in. Her mind was filled with wretchedness, and she was open for suggestive revenge.
"No, let them go on, Dawn. I had to watch it, and I think you should, too. I'm as hurt and angry as you are, but we must be levelheaded about it."
Dawn managed to stem the flooding tears which had begun to stream from her agonized eyes. Taking a deep breath to help regain her composure, she nodded in illogical agreement and then continued to witness the damning sight. Edgewater refilled her glass, saying, "Here, Dawn, drink this. It'll help."
She did, willingly, downing the entire glass in three quick swallows. He poured her another and she sipped this time, barely noticing the burning of the alcohol in her stomach. Thank God for the bourbon, she thought fuzzily as Edgewater placed the bottle on a table, If I hadn't had something deaden me, I would have gone to pieces, I know...
"What are we going to do about them, Dawn?" he asked. Edgewater's voice was cool and collected, with a hint of malice.
The real, inner emotion of elation was well covered.
"Oh God, I don't know," she wailed. She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed like a small child. "I ... never thought Stan could do such a thing!"
"Your husband is quite a lover," Edgewater added caustically. "You can imagine how I felt when I saw that it was my wife who was doing that to him."
"Kissing people ... there ... is sick!" Dawn cried, cringing.
Edgewater smiled at Dawn's reluctance to use real words for what she saw. How surprised she was going to be when she too would soon say them ... would beg him to lick her young tender pussy while she sucked at his throbbing cock...
Dawn, mesmerized by the rolling film, tried to sort out her thoughts. Up until that night with the Edgewaters, Stan had always seemed happy with their lovemaking, although she had to admit she was beginning to doubt some of her moral precepts in the past two days. But did it take such perversions to keep a man? No ... it couldn't ... it just couldn't! Yet maybe ... for the first time since she was old enough to question things, Dawn began to actually consider her values, wondering if she didn't know what it took to satisfy a man. At the same time she had no idea what to do about the rape she had been submitted to, or how it connected with the flagrante delicto scene of Stan being kissed on the penis by Edgewater's beautiful and sluttish wife. She loved Stan, in spite of what had been happening, and her heart ached for some way to repair the damage to the marriage which he had wrought. Then, still, there was the growing anger; the pride, moral righteousness and integrity which made her seethe inwardly at his scandalous actions. Did she want a divorce? Could she ever forgive and accept him back after this? Oh God, God! Dawn slumped, her mind still mesmerized by the twisting and turning figures in the obscene movie, her head whirling confusedly and drunkenly now.
Edgewater spoke soothingly to Dawn as she continued to watch, building the gap between him and the girl. "Look at the way her mouth slides up and down on him, Dawn. Exciting, isn't it? I mean, in spite of knowing that it's your husband up there, you have to admit that seeing him being sucked by another woman, my wife, is erotic..."
He moved behind her as she stood there swaying drunkenly, his pelvis sliding along her buttocks and he gripped her shoulders tightly. In her ear he whispered, "It makes you aroused, Dawn ... very aroused..."
"Noooo," she moaned, and she tried to jerk away, but his hold was strong. What was the matter with him? Was he sick? It was almost as if he was reveling in this perversion before their eyes ... as if he had known all along and enjoyed seeing it.. .
"She's enjoying his penis, Dawn ... she thinks it's almost as good and tasty as mine. Isn't that nice?"
"No, it's terrible! It's evil!" she flung at him, struggling to break free. She felt her anger double and triple and finally unleash in unreasoning fury. She suddenly wanted to hurt Stan, to do something to him to repay him for all the agony he had forced upon her ... for the rape, for the cruel words, for the adulterous tryst happening right before her eyes. Reprisal ... reprisal! But that was unthinkable, because the only kind of retribution which this untenable situation warranted was the same thing-or at least, the same type of thing-that Stan was doing. In plain terms, it meant making love with another man, and she simply couldn't do that.
Or-could she?
No! That's the bourbon in my system! It's my shame and hurt. I really shouldn't have had all that liquor ... Oh God, I don't know what to do! I don't know how to cope with this awful situation!
Who would have dreamed I should ever have had to?
She twisted and jerked some more in the professor's grasp, but his fingers were like steel talons. She was breathing hard, her eyes locked tightly on the lewdly undulating loins of her husband as Faith slavered above him, running her mouth up and down the gluttonous cock. There was the same contorted features on her as there was on him, Dawn thought maddeningly.
His salacious words brought gasps from Dawn, but then she found that in spite of her morals and agony, she was actually beginning to get a small, illogical tingle from the corrupting celluloid. She watched, watched with ever widening eyes, and little by little her struggles lessened as the hot temper of moments previous abated. Edgewater continued to whisper more obscene remarks in her ears and his hand began to move around her dress, around and then under the hem. He was telling her again and again how exciting it was to see the perverted lovers how they gave vent to rising passions...
And slowly, hardly perceptible at first, and certainly against her will, Dawn began to respond.
She could feel her nipples begin to harden in her bra and she could sense her vaginal lubricants begin to flow as they did during foreplay. She tried to will the unwanted desires away, to turn her eyes away from the obscene, but slut-inciting movie, but she could do neither and the passion grew inside her, insinuatingly, then more rapidly, until it finally consumed her fragile body in an inferno of delicious sensations.
Edgewater sensed her responsiveness, and glowed with triumph, for his plan was working better than he had hoped. She was going to produce, he could tell that, and he had been right about the hidden depths of Dawn Ballard, and after so long at looking at her and wanting her for so long , she was at last going to succumb! He renewed his lecherous intonations, and his hand moved up to cup one of Dawn's full, gently throbbing breasts, lightly kneading it. Christ! they weren't as big as Faith's, but they were damned nice! She wasn't fighting him, either ... she was watching the movie of Faith sucking Stan off ... weaving a bit from the effects of the bourbon ... he pressed his cock against her buttocks, rubbing the erect and hardened bulge into the soft, yielding crevice of her ass cheeks.
"Your husband and my wife, Dawn," he breathed in her ear. "I want to pay them back, Dawn, don't you? Why shouldn't you and I show them that two others ean play their game ... Dawn, I want to fuck you, right now, while we're watching Stan and Faith. I want to fuck you..."
Dawn's mind was a seething mass of turmoil, fomented from the large consumption of bourbon, antagonized by her ever rising anger toward her husband, and almost irrational from the flooding tide of passion. She felt his penis and his hand and knew she could step away if she wanted to, and that she could stop him if her desire was great enough ... but she didn't want him to stop. She wanted him to...
She wanted him to make love to her!
Yes, yes, even his foul word for love-making didn't turn her away, not now, not with all the sudden and overwhelming realization of her most inner desires! Yes, she wanted to punish Stan and what better way than to make love to the harlot's husband who was, after all, as hurt as she? That's what mattered ... and the release of the prurient passions which were raging uncontrollably through her body now ... fired by the fuel of alcohol and fanned by the winds of lust.. .
"Dawn," Edgewater murmured, "On the couch, Dawn..."
"Yes," Dawn heard herself reply, "The couch....."
Edgewater squeezed her breast. "We'll watch from there, Dawn, and I will make love to you..."
"Yes ... yes ... yes!" she groaned half consciously, her body and mind responding in spite of her revulsion to the lewd scene on the wall.
He slowly led her to the broad, three cushioned couch which was, positioned perfectly for good viewing. She sat down, her head bowed, past all caring now, wanting only the double agonies of her mind's revenge and her Flesh's uncontrollable yearnings to be satisfied. She lay back, stretching her legs along the cushions fully, her eyes turning to see once more the hideous sucklings which had prompted this revolutionary realignment of her morals. Edgewater leaned over and drew her apron off, then took the thin house-dress and slid it up, up over her thighs and abdomen and he bunched it in a roll at her waist. He gazed lewdly at the magnificent hips and the white triangle of silk, and he could barely contain his own lustfulness. He was going to have to get into her quickly ... before he burst his balls ... and before she woke up to the fact she was fucking another man...
Dawn felt his fingers tease along the silk material, his nails guiding along the elastic waistband and then down to her moistened loins. Then he tugged at the panties and she unconsciously arched her buttocks, allowing him to pull them down. She took her eyes from the movie for a quick glance at the panties as they were rolled down her trim legs and off her feet. She was now naked, she realized with a sudden jolt, nude to the lascivious leer of Stan's superior, and she didn't care ... she was lost in total abandonment and surrender.
Then Edgewater rose from his leaning position and threw the panties callously aside. His hands dipped to his belt, and Dawn locked her eyes helplessly upon the tent of his groin. The zipper snaked down ... he let his pants fall, stepping out of them with one graceful motion. He stood proudly in his white cotton Jockey shorts for a moment, rubbing his inner thighs, and a tantalizing shock of mindless, intoxicated expectancy rippled through Dawn. Then he slowly slid his shorts down, over his erect cock, and then all the way off, letting them lay where they fell.
God! It was so big! Dawn licked her dry lips with a mixture of fear and excitement. Can I take it without it hurting me?
Edgewater moved closer to her in nothing but his shirt and socks, having slipped off his loafers with his pants. He worked the blood-engorged knob of his long, extremely thick purplish veined penis up and down in front of Dawn's widening eyes. "I'm going to put this in you now, baby," he whispered, "All the way up to your tits. You want that, don't you?
Dawn could not answer at once. Her mind was like a merry-go-round gone mad as she reached up for him. He's going to ... to ... FUCK me! her brain screamed, Yes, that's the word, the only word ... FUCK! I vowed no man other than my husband would ever touch my body ... but my husband has been unfaithful to me ... and now I am going to return the favor ... I'm better than Faith, than a common prostitute, but it doesn't seem to matter any more ... nothing matters anymore...
Edgewater moved on top of her, careful not to block her view of the film, and he reached down between their bodies to grasp his throbbing, pulsating shaft and work it up and down her now wet, now accepting vaginal valley. He parted the sparse blonde pubic hair between her widespread legs and felt the clitoris, hard and quivering, and then the pink canal of her vulva and then the warm, and dilated hole to her tight, sweet cunt. As he paused for his lunge home, his final touch to his plan of seduction, Dawn cried beneath him.
"Yes, Leland," she answered at last in a slurred shout, "I want you! I want you to fuck meeeeee!"
CHAPTER 4
Edgewater needed no further urging than young Dawn Ballard's mesmeric cry of total surrender, and he levered forward harshly, a moan of victory on his saliva-wet lips. The long, hard, throbbing weapon of his manhood surged like a great dynamo along the waiting moist tunnel of her cunt, rippling before it the sensitive, velvet-soft walls as it lurched deep, deep into her soft, quivering belly. The bloated head struck her cervix savagely, while at the same time his heavy, sperm-weighted balls thudded into the dampened crevice of her wide-split buttocks below.
AndDawnscreamed,"UUUUUHHHHHHHHH!"
Her elastic vaginal sheath molded wetly, hotly, to his invading penis, consuming it like a sucking mouth before he withdrew to plunge again-and again and again. His breath was hot and smelled of mouthwash and bourbon against her face, and he was squeezing her tits through the material of her bunched dress, kissing her face and eyes as he flexed his hips to drive his huge and thundering cock to the deepest recesses of her womb.
Oh God! Dawn thought. He's so big, so terribly big! He's going to split me wide open! He's going to kill me with his huge penis! Ohhhhhhhhh, it hurts, it hurts!
"Leland, stop, please please stop!" she wailed, flailing her head from side to side beneath his moist, fiery kisses.
"Don't you like ... my cock inside you, baby? Doesn't it feel good when I do ... THIS!"
With that, he drew his hips back and then thrust his mighty stallion-sized rod forward again, burying it to the hilt in her widely expanded pussy, battering the head of her tender cervix as if trying to demoniacally destroy the sensitive aperture.
"Eeeeeeeeaaaaarrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh!" howled Dawn in tormented agony, jackknifing her legs up from the couch and circling his sweating middle with her thighs in a hopeless defensive reflexive action. But the involuntary movement only served to flower wider her wetly filled cunt, and Edge-water thrust brutally again, fucking into her with renewed vigor now, interpreting her actions as even more capitulation to his subjugation.
Dawn's brain was a whirling mass of pain and increasing fear at what she was allowing to be done to her defenseless genitalia by this relative stranger. Harlot, slut, whore, gutter tramp ... the words churned like hot punitive needles through the bourbon-haze...I deserve this, I deserve this horrible assault on my body for having given in just because Stan was so weak, so carnal, to have another woman. Yes, I must take this pain, for it is my punishment, my punishment ...
And then, suddenly, the pain was gone! It was gone, even through Edgewater was still burrowing with hard, sawing strokes into her vagina, and for a moment she felt nothing at all. Then, slowly, increasingly, little spasmodic jolts of pleasure filled her cunt as his penis was filling it ... and soon the little jolts became bigger ones, became wild and wanton waves of desire, undeniable wondrous pleasure consuming her body. Her hips began an undulating rhythm on the cushions of the couch, slowly at first and then faster and faster. Her head turned as if with a will of its own, her mouth seeking his, finding it, opening under it, her tongue slipping inside to fuse with his tongue as they exchanged love-saliva...
Nooooooo! a diminishing warning bell tolled in her mind. No, you can't feel pleasure, you can't, no this is vile, evil ...
But there was no denying it; no denying the prurient sensations which now controlled her body, sensations she had never before felt even with Stan. New and frightening, these ripples of passion, coming from some deep and heretofore buried recess of her soul, her being. They had been unleashed by the sight of her husband having fellatio performed on him by the wife of the man who now fucked like a crazed animal inside her, unleashed by the perverse submittal to Leland
Edgewater in her anger and alcoholic haze.
Dawn tried to dwell her mind on the shame and guilt she had felt an instant earlier, tried to tell herself that this delight which was flowing through her was a product of her whoredom, but with a part of her mind she knew that that was not true. No, something base and integral in her makeup had been awakened, brought to the surface ... The degradation of the act of which she was now a part paled, then, into complete insignificance; gone was the shame and the guilt and the fear and the self-loathing and the anger, for none of those things seemed to matter anymore. Nothing seemed to matter any more but the intense fires which LeLand Edgewater's pistoning cock had touched off in her young pussy and belly. She was aroused, for the first time in her life really and truly and wildly and insanely aroused, and it was good, good, good!
Dawn's hips swirled and ground down into the squeaking couch in ever increasing abandonment now, attuning themselves to the long, hard strokes being levered into her cuntal passage by Edge-water's buttocks. She sucked on his tongue wildly, mindlessly, tasting it sweet and hot against her own, and her hands clawed his back ceaselessly. Her legs were now raised high with the thighs locked tight against his sides, her heels pounding harshly off his upraised, driving ass cheeks as he sawed into her. She pulled her mouth away momentarily.
"Yes, yes, Leland!" she heard herself moan. "That's it, that's it! Ohhh, it's good, yes it's good, Leland! Give it me, harder, harder ... ohhhhhhh!"
"Tell me what you want, Dawn. Say it, say the word, Dawn."
"Fuck me!" she cried immediately. "Oh God, yes, Leland, fuck me hard, fuck me hard, harrrdddddddd!"
"I'm going to ... fuck you like you've never ... been fucked before, Dawn. I'm going to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you..."
"Yes! Oh yes fuck me ... uuuuuuuggggghhhhhh!"
Holy Christ, this is something else! thought Edgewater as he hammered his cock with merciless force into her now hungrily sucking cunt. I knew that when she finally broke free of her ethical and moral chains that she ivould be quite a passionate woman, but I didn't expect it to be this good! Her cunt is like soft, hot honey around my cock, and when she moves that sweet little ass of hers with her legs wrapped around me she's almost as good as Faith-and that's some compliment, especially since she's only just begun ... Christ, Vm going to blow my wad in a minute, I can feel the cum building in my balls...
In the throes of her still-building passion, Dawn became aware of a steady humming sound and realized that it was the movie projector running. Was the movie still running? she wondered dimly, and she turned her head and fluttered her eyes open.
Yes, it was still running and what she saw on the makeshift wall screen made her churn her buttocks with even more abandoned frenzy, causing a low moan of delight to burst from Edgewater's throat. Her heels beat an incessant tattoo on the white, hairy globes of his ass, and he reached beneath her upturned cheeks to knead the wet, pliant flesh, stretching her crotch still wider as he fucked her with furious stroking now.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!" cried Dawn in lustful delight, both from the flickering movie images and
Edgewater's bludgeoning prick.
On the wall, Faith Edgewater's talented lips were a blur around Stan's bloated cock and Dawn knew, instinctively, that her husband was about to cum. Suddenly, as she watched , she saw him lever up insanely saw Faith begin to swallow to keep from choking as Stan ejaculated his semen into her mouth in a bottomless torrent that soon dribbled down over Faith's chin as her head bobbed dervish-like over his cock. She's going to choke on all that seed, it's going to drown her, strangle her ... Dawn thought vaguely, but Faith she saw was equal to the task of Stan's releasing orgasm, her cheeks hollowing, bloating, hollowing, bloating as the cavern of her mouth filled and emptied time and again with Dawn's husband's semen. She-likes it, she-likes the taste of Stan's cum, she's drinking it as if it was some inexplicably delicious ambrosia ... Can a man's seed taste that good? Can that be the reason why some woman enjoy performing such an act?...
But she had no more time to dwell on such thoughts, or to dwell on the actions taking place on the dancing wall screen, for strange spiraling sensations were beginning to seize control of her now. She felt as if she was ascending to some great height, nearing the crest, and that when she reached it she would feel wonderment like no other in her life.
"I'm going to have an orgasm," she said aloud in moaning, ragged breaths. "I'm going to climax, really climax for the first time, oh God Leland, I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum, Leland I'm going to cummmmmmmm!"
Her words were the final release to Edgewater's own impending release, and he bucked and twisted into her, their bodies revolving with maniacal frenzy on the couch. And then he felt his balls slam against her moist furrow on the downstroke, felt them contract and then erupt, and the first hot, molten-hot, flash of cum shot through the glans eye of his cock like pressurized water through a fire hose.
"OOOOoooohhhhhaaaaahhhhhhh!" he screamed, squeezing her buttocks together convulsively, painfully, as he jetted forth gusher after gusher of his sticky white cum into her pussy, filling it to the brim, cumming and cumming and cumming.. .
Dawn felt the hot, spurting liquid lash against her womb, and in that moment she reached the pinnacle-reached it and knew the rapture that she anticipated would be there.
"Yessssssssss!" she howled, beating her fists on his back as she was beating her heels on his twitching buttocks. "I'm there, I'm there, I'm thereeeeeee...! " The rest of her words trailed off as great pinwheeling lights, beautiful multicolored lights, exploded in back of her eyes and she began to drift on a great wave of delight, bobbing gently, floating, drifting ... Incomprehensible mewls fluttered from her throat, and guttural ones burst from Edgewater's as the two of them came together, came together. ...
Dawn was almost comatose when at last it was over, and she only vaguely felt Edgewater's now flaccid cock slip from her wet slippery vagina with a soft, final sucking sound, trailing their commingled juices in long silvery strands which pooled eventually on the already dampened couch beneath her still-splayed legs and still-trembling buttocks. She only dimly heard his soft, almost reverent words, "God, that was ... the finest fuck I've ever had! Dawn, do you hear me? You've just given me the finest fuck of my life!"
She didn't realize it, but she smiled at his compliment just before she drifted off to a deep, dreamless sleep...
* * *
Leland Edgewater was gone when Dawn awoke.
She came awake with a fuzzy, disjointed feeling in her mind, and a dry cottony taste in her mouth. Her temples seemed to throb with a rhythmic intensity. She looked down at herself when she had her eyes open, saw that she was covered by the quilt which she normally kept at the foot of hers and Stan's bed. Must have fallen asleep, taken a little afternoon nap ... she thought dreamily.
And then she moved, as if to stretch, and a dull aching pain made itself apparent down between her thighs, a soreness that was not altogether unpleasant-and it all came rushing back to her: Leland Edgewater's arrival, his accusations, the movies, the liquor, her complete submission to him, her wanton actions, her orgasm...
"Oh God, oh dear god!" she moaned aloud, and threw one arm up to cover her eyes, as if that gesture would somehow blot out the images which had burst all at once back into her brain. Oh God, dear God, she thought tormentedly, what's happened to me, what have I become? I enjoyed being with another man today, I actually reveled in his ... his penis ripping into me, I actually achieved an orgasmmy first full and complete-orgasm with another man's organ draining his sperm inside me ... And I reveled in the sight of my husband, Stan, having his member sucked by Faith Edgewater, reveled in the way she swallowed his seed ... Ohhh, I must be sick, I must be mentally debilitated in some way, to have succumbed to such perversions, such desires. How, in my most nightmarish imagination, could I have ever conceived of begging a man to ... to fuck me-that filthy word!-and then delight abandonedly in the ensuing act ...
Dawn moaned again, wretchedly. What should she do? Where should she go? She felt alone, dirty, with no one to help her, no one to offer her solace or explanation. She couldn't go to Stan, surely not to her husband after what he had done with Faith Edgewater ... no, he too had become involved in debauched acts of the flesh, just as she; he too had forsaken his marital vows of fidelity, and it didn't matter that he had been the first to topple for she was as guilty as he was ... Anger and liquor were no excuse for extramarital sex, no excuse at all...
Perhaps I could live with it, she thought, if I hadn't enjoyed it so much, if I hadn't had such a pleasurable climax, if I hadn't been filled with such delicious, salacious sensations...
Dawn turned her head slightly, looking toward the window nearest the couch. She saw that the shade had been pulled up once more-Leland, before he had gone?-and realized for the first time that the movie projector was no longer present. Then her eyes focused on the window, saw the later afternoon sunlight filtering pale through. Must be almost five, she thought dimly, and then her mind was filled with sudden horror. Almost five! Stan would be coming home any minute! He couldn't find her like this, her hair all disheveled, her cum and the cum of Leland Edgewater staining her thighs and the couch upon which she lay...
Abruptly, Dawn threw off the quilt and got to her feet. Her housedress was rumpled and she thought she could detect faint semen stains near its hem. She smoothed it down with her hands, and then ran into the kitchen and took the dish sponge into the living room again. She scrubbed at the dried love juices on the couch, managing to remove most of them. She was just folding the quilt when the front door opened and Stan came inside.
"Hi, honey," he said when he saw her. "I'm home." He started across to where she stood immobile, holding the quilt and staring wide-eyed at him. "What's for dinner?"
Suddenly, panic seized control of Dawn's mind. She couldn't simply stand here and greet her husband as if nothing had happened, as if both were completely faithful to the other, as if she hadn't just finished making love to Leland Edgewater and his semen wasn't still coagulating in her vagina ... She couldn't face him, couldn't talk to him, couldn't pretend; she just couldn't!
With a small cry of despair, Dawn dropped the quilt and fled into their bedroom, hot stinging tears washing down in a flood from her shame-ridden eyes. She flung herself onto the bed, burying her face in the spread-covered pillow and crying out her degradation and tortured anguish unabashedly.
Stan came into the room hesitantly, a perplexed and concerned frown corrugating his forehead, and sat on the bed beside his lovely sobbing wife. "Dawn," he said softly, "honey, what is it? What's the matter?"
"Go away!" she moaned. "Go away!"
"Honey..."
"Damn you, damn you, leave me alone!" "Dawn, baby, what's troubling you? Are you sick?"
She sobbed into the pillow, not answering him for a moment; but when he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder in a comforting way, repeating his question, she pivoted around on the bed, pulling away from him as if he was some foul purveyor of execrable disease. "Yes!" she shouted at him, feeling some of the anger-the blind, unreasoning anger-that she had felt upon first learning for certain of his actions with Faith Edge-water, return to her now that Stan was home. "Yes, I'm sick! I'm sick to my stomach because I found out what your are, Stan Ballard! I found out what kind of filthy carnal beast you are, and how much you think of me! Yes, I'm sick, as sick as any woman who discovers her husband has been ... has been having an affair with some big-breasted slut!"
The words came rushing out of her in a torrent, and she couldn't have stopped the verbal assault until its surcease if she had wanted to-and she didn't at that moment want to. She wanted to see Stan's expression, hear his explanations, when she confronted him with his adulterous action; there was a perverse need inside her to hurt him, to watch him wither under her charges.
She wasn't disappointed. Stan turned a milky shade of white and his eyes seemed to glaze over; sweat popped out in little glistening pustules on his forehead, and a shiver passed through him as if he had had a sudden chill. "Oh God, Dawn!" he whispered softly. He felt a sick, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. "God, how ... how did you find out the terrible thing I've done?"
"What difference does it make?" she flung at him, and the anger grew inside her by leaps and bounds. Hurt him; yes, she had to hurt him, hurt him for what he had done to their marriage, for what he had made her do with Leland Edgewater, inexcusable though her actions may have been..."You let her put her mouth on your ... your penis, didn't you, Stan? You let Faith Edgewater perform that sick, perverted, disgusting ritual on you and you were reveling in it. You liked it, didn't you, Stan? You liked being unfaithful to me; you liked it the whole time you were fouling our supposedly sacred union!"
Stan gazed at her with the miserable eyes of a beaten and soul-sick puppy. "Dawn, my darling, can ... can you ever forgive me for what I've done? The guilt has been tearing me apart since ... it happened, and I've wanted to tell you a dozen times. But I ... I just couldn't bring myself to do it." He took a long, tremulous breath, continued: "Dawn, I know there's no excuse but I ... well, I just couldn't help myself. She seduced me, Dawn. She's a voluptuous, sensual woman and she knows the weaknesses of men, knows how to throw them off guard, turn them into carnal entities with no other thoughts but those of animal desires..."
"I don't want to hear about it!" Dawn cried, the tears falling once more from her eyes. "I watched you doing it and I don't want to hear about it, too!"
There was a sudden, pregnant silence and Stan stared at his wife open-mouthed. "What?" he said at length. "What did you say?"
Dawn suddenly realized the slip she had made. She blanched as Stan had, averting her eyes. "I ... I..." she stumbled in a softened voice.
"Dawn, answer me!" snapped Stan. "What did you mean, you saw me doing it with Faith Edge-water? How could you have seen me? But you must have, or else how could you know I had been unfaithful, how could you know it was with Faith?" He leaned forward to grab her shoulders.
"Dawn, how did you know?"
"I ... saw a movie!" she cried suddenly, pulling away from him agin. "A movie of you and Faith!"
"A movie?" he repeated uncomprehendingly.
"Yes!" And before she could stop them, more words were spilling from her lips; words which, ambivalently, she wanted to say and didn't want to say; words to hurt and sting, and yet of such magnitude that their impact transcended mere simple pain. "Leland Edgewater came over this afternoon, and he had a movie of you and ... and Faith together. I watched it; he shone it on the wall, and I watched it and the whole time I was watching it I kept drinking bourbon. I drank until I was too drunk to care anymore, just watching that ... sickness, that foul perverted bestial sickness on the wall; and when that happened, and LeLand suggested he and I make love to pay you and Faith back, and I said yes. Do you hear me, Stan. I said yes!"
"You ... you had sex with Leland Edgewater?" Stan asked, staggering backward as if struck by some mailed fist. There was a look of incredulous horror on his white face.
"Yes, right out in the living room, right on our couch! I let him have me right there ... I let him put his huge penis inside me and cum inside me while I watched you have your orgasm in Faith's mouth. And I had an orgasm, too, Stan! I had my first real orgasm, and it was with another man's organ buried inside me!"
"I don't believe it! I can't believe it!"
"Well, it's true! All of it, Stan; it's all true!" Dawn turned and flung herself face down again, and began to cry in great convulsive sobs that wracked her entire body piteously. The anger had completely dissipated inside her now, as if the storm fury of her lashing words, her confession, had purged her of all emotional energies. She was nothing but a little girl now, a hurt and confused and frightened little girl...
A myriad number of things coursed kaleidoscopically through Stan's brain in those few seconds. He wanted to scream at Dawn, call her every filthy name he could think of; he wanted to hurt her, physically hurt her and yes, hurt Leland Edgewater too; kill the son of a bitch, cut that fucking cock of his off with a butcher knife and watch him bleed to death. And yet, he knew deep inside him that Dawn wasn't to blame, that she too was entitled to one transgression just as he was; he could understand her hurt upon witnessing him in the throes of passion with Faith's hungry mouth on his penis, could understand her giving in a bastard like Edgewater under such circumstances...
He suddenly felt an overpowering tenderness toward his beautiful young wife, a consuming and protective kind of love that transcended any singular mistake they both might have made. Yes, he loved her ... in spite of his lewd rape of her on the bathroom floor and the harsh words he had said to her then, in spite of his weak submittal to the luscious charms of the vamp Faith Edgewater, in spite of her angered, intoxicated submittal to Le-Land Edgewater after learning of his, Stan's failing, after actually seeing Faith's hot, soft lips sucking his prick ... That was in the past now, all in the past, and it didn't matter, couldn't matter to their abiding relationship.
He lay down beside his wife on the bed, turning her gently to face him and then taking her into his arms. She didn't resist; she was as limp and yielding as a rag doll. He held her tight, kissing her hair, kissing the tears from her eyes and cheeks, and she whimpered softly, pressing tight against him as if seeking to blend her body with his.
"Shh, honey," he whispered. "It's all right now. Everything's going to be all right now."
"Is it, Stan?" she sobbed. "Is it all right? We ... we've both done such terrible things; will we be able to keep from doing them again in the future?"
"Of course, baby," Stan said softly.
"Ohhh, Stan, I love you so much!"
He kissed her again, and she felt his warm, masculine form against her, his lips, and in her drowsy state she found her mind harking back to the lovemaking of Leland Edgewater; to the professor's strong, sinewy arms and hot probing tongue and long, hard, accomplished penis stroking with exciting regularity into her lust-moistened vagina. She found herself thinking about how his great organ had felt inside her, the building excitement it had generated, and then the wonderful, delicious, neoteric sensations the spilling of his seed had released in her ... her orgasm, God that tremendous fulfilling climax she had experienced...
And suddenly then, lying in the protective embrace of her husband, Dawn realized she was once more becoming aroused! Yes, it was true, there was no denying it; her nipples were growing turgid beneath her dress, and her vagina was again lubricating with almost alarming rapidity. The lewd images of she and Leland Edgewater coupling on the couch, of the flickering movie on the wall, darted back and forth in her mind and her breath began to grow increasingly ragged.
Oh no, no, she thought, this is wrong, this is wicked to want sex again, even if it is with my husband. Oh what a tramp I am ... yes, that's the only word for it. I've become a tramp, but why? What strange chemical transformation has taken place in my body? What unfathomable change has made me think these carnal thoughts, made me need and want sex...? Was it the fact that I achieved orgasm, such a good and beautiful orgasm, for the first time? Was it that? Perhaps I Want to experience such wonder with my husband ... perhaps I have to know deep inside me if that cumming with Leland was just some biological fluke, or just the beginning of sexual pleasures for me.. .
"Stan," she heard herself whisper. "Stan ... honey?"
"Yes, Dawn?"
"Stan..." She began, almost unconsciously, to move her pelvis against his, to rotate her hips in little gentle motions pressing her moistening pussy tighter against her husband's groin insinuatingly. "Stan, I ... I know you're going to think I'm wicked, but I ... well, I want to make love now, darling. Stan, I want you to make love to me." She held him tighter, began kissing his neck, his ear, slipping her warm wet tongue inside the orifice. "Stan, oh God I want you, Stan! I want you now, right now!"
Her increasingly bold words took Stan by surprise, but he felt his prick give a tingling response to her gyrations against him. Her tongue flicking into his ear brought his cock to its full erection, and she, feeling his hardness, began to undulate more provocatively. What's the matter with her? he thought confusedly. This isn't Dawn, my sweet childish, almost asexual wife, talking to me this way. It's almost as if she's changed somehow, in some way, been made over by that bastard Leland, the way he took advantage of her today ... I should be shocked, angry-but I'm not. No, damn it, I'm not! I'm aroused, because this is what I've longed for, this kind of response in my wife, this kind of movement, these words ... even though the sperm of another man's balls is still in her belly...
"Yes!" he said against her neck. "Yes, Dawn my darling, I want to make love to you! I want you right now, too!"
"Oh hurry then!" she cried, kissing him, dry fucking him with natural and unashamed ease, with the ardor of a practiced woman. "Hurry and make us both naked, darling! Hurry, hurry!"
Stan's mind was fast becoming a raging inferno of desire, for now he realized that he was going to have his wife as he had wanted to have from the first moment they'd met; he was going to know the full extent of her hidden depths, of that he was intuitively certain, for she was different and passionate, the woman he had always prayed for her to be, and that was all that mattered now. The end justifies the means, and to hell with anything else...
His hands were feverish on her clothes, on his own, loosening buttons and unzipping zippers and flinging garments onto the floor on both sides of the bed. Dawn helped him, making little urging sounds as she did so, caught up now in the impossible need both of them felt at the moment. And then they were both naked, nude and glistening with love sweat and together again in one another's arms. Their hands were everywhere: hers stroked his cock slowly, teasingly, as if she had always enjoyed doing that sort of thing, tickling his swelling balls with one fingernail; his caressed her firm, full tits, tweaked the nipples into even more rigid arousal, moved to the moist, downy soft fleece of her pubic mound and found her distended, quivering clit. Their tongues flashed into one another's mouths, fusing, flowing their hot juices together, as they continued to stroke and caress.
And into Stan's mind, then, came a singular idea, an idea which he had long harbored, a secret desire which he had had from their wedding night. He wanted to kiss and lick her cunt! He wanted to put his hard, hot tongue deep, deep into her vagina, burying his head in her crotch! Yes, that was what he wanted! And that was exactly what he was going to do! He was going to lick and suck her clean of Leland Edgewater's rapacious cum!
He broke their embrace, moved rapidly down the bed trailing his mouth and tongue in a fiery path over her swollen tits and flat belly, poising over her glistening pubic mound. He stared down at her slightly prominent mound, at the soft, wet pinkish red slit hidden below, at the trembling nub of her clit; he was almost salivating with expectant desire now.
Dawn realized in that moment exactly what her husband wanted to do. No, no I can't let him kiss me there, not there! her brain protested. It's wrong, it's evil ... She reached down, tried to pull his head away from her lower belly with her hands in his hair; but he resisted.
"No, Dawn," he whispered, eyes cast downward as if his words were meant for her cunt and it alone. "No, I'm not going to be denied now. I want to kiss your pussy. I want to put my tongue in your crotch and in your vagina, Dawn. I want to lick and suck you there..."
"Ohhhhhhh!" wailed Dawn, and yet it was as much in passion as it was in anguish. She realized this in her highly aroused state, and suddenly all of her defenses seemed to crumble away and she began to quiver with wild, wanton desire. It didn't matter that this was wrong, this age-old pagan ritual of cunnilingus; no, it didn't matter at all, because she wanted it! Yes, she wanted it, wanted her husband to kiss her vagina and her crotch, wanted it, wanted it, wanted it! Wanted his tongue where a strange man's cock had been such a short time ago...
"Stan ... yes, Stan, kiss my pussy! Kiss it!"
And Stan needed no further sign of encouragement than that. With a little cry of long-awaited rapturement, he drove his head downward, his lips mashing onto her vaginal, fluted ones, his tongue sliding deeply, hotly, like a wet oversized worm into the warm sweet pungent recesses of her cunt in the consummate French kiss.
"Ooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!" Dawn cried, her body reacting to his oral penetration, her legs convulsively jackknifing upward and splaying wide to allow him more access to her naked, softly hair-lined crotch. Her thighs closed in tight against the sides of his head, and her hands wrapped almost painfully in his hair.
Stan reveled in his wife's soft sweet furrow. His mouth and tongue made obscene sucking sounds that seemed to fill the bedroom, and his hands slid beneath her ass cheeks to grip the firm, sweating flesh, driving her loins tighter against his questing face. He slipped his fingers into the crevice between her sheened buttocks, pulling her crotch yet wider apart for his salacious mouth-fucking of her genitals. Then his fleshy, moist tongue lapped upward, slowly, insinuatingly, to locate the erect pulsating button of her clitoris. She whined in agonizing sharpness at the contact, and cried out and jerked at his hair as he took the tiny, trembling bud between his teeth and nipped it while he ran the tip of his tongue across and around in continuing teasing motion.
Dawn's head began to flail from side to side in wild abandonment, and she drove his head deeper into her crotch. It's good, so good, so wonderful! Oh God, it's fantastic! How could I have denied Stan this? How could I have thought it to be sick and disgusting ... oooohhhhhh, how could anything this good be ugly? His tongue ... so hard, so hot, ssssoooooo goooodddddddd!
Stan was orally fucking her faster and faster now, sliding his hot wet probe deep into her dilated, clasping vagina, tasting her lubrication juices and her wetness from Edgewater's recent fucking and finding them as sweet as nectar. His face was wet now, and he could feel against his lips and cheeks the velvety softness of her puffy, hair-lined furrow. He kneaded and squeezed her soft white ass cheeks spasmodically, his fingers, digging into the pliant flesh as his face churned in her crotch, and he could feel his cum building rapidly in his testicles. Jesus, this was just as he had always dreamed it would be! She was sweet and soft and wonderful between her legs, just as he had known her cunt would be, and it tasted as delicious as he had known, too! Oh this was the finest sexual moment of his life, by far and away the very finest ... But his cum was building, building so hot that it seemed as if his testes were afire ... he could almost smell the scorched flesh ... damn, damn, he had to fuck her! Yes, he had to fuck her and right now, there was plenty of time later to lick and suck her pussy, for he knew that she liked it-loved it-by the motions of her body and the moans from her lips. She wouldn't deny him oral gratification ever again...
Stan withdrew his tongue from the searing, liquid depths of her pussy and raised his head, licking the moist secretions from his lips as if they were some rich honey concoction, and smiled up at his wife. Dawn made a sound of protest, her hands tugging in his hair as she endeavored to return his glistening mouth to her yearning crotch and moist, hot vagina.
"I'm going to fuck you now," he breathed to her, the lewdness of his words causing his heart to pound crazily. "I'm going to put my hard penis inside your pussy now, Dawn. I'm going to fuck you like Leland Edgewater just did and fuck you and fuck you!"
Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! Dawn's mind screamed. That's right, that's the phrase, that's what I want! I need you, Stan, I need you inside me, I need you to make me cum. I want us to cum together, Stan, with your big hard cock inside my pussy..."Oh yes!" she squealed. "Yessssssss, fuck me darling! Fuck meeeee!"
"Take my prick in your hand," he commanded, feeling tremendously virile and masculine at that moment. "Take it, Dawn, and put it inside your cunt! Do it now, Dawn! Now!"
Moaning, Dawn reached down as Stan moved forward over her. She grasped his blood-enraged prick, squeezing its fleshy, ridged expanse lightly, and guided it to her trembling, waiting, moistly shining slit. She teased the hard, rubbery head along the sensitive folds of her labia for an instant, then placed the glans with its semen-oozing, unseeing eye at the door of her lusting hole.
"No! cried Stan suddenly, caught up in his newfound power. "I want you from behind! I want to fuck you dog-fashion!"
A shiver of lasciviousness coursed through Dawn, and without dwelling on what she was doing, she had moved around on the bed to kneel with her buttocks upraised before her husband's feasting eyes. The knowledge that he was starting at the globoid moons of her ass, at the moist valley between them, further enticed her. She reached around and located his prick again, leading it as she would a blind thing to the opening of her cunt again, parting her own sparse blond pubic hair and positioning it there. Her breasts bobbed and swayed down from her chest, and her hair fanned out on the spread. She leaned forward on her elbows, holding her breath, waiting.
With a moan of conquering savagery, Stan flexed his buttocks forward and his hard, purplish cock sliced through her soft receptive cunt flesh with vibrating passion, filling her channel to the overflowing, sending his mammoth marble-hard monster deep within her hidden caverns to strike with wet force the rounded protuberance of her cervix.
"UUUUUhhhhhhhhh!" Dawn screamed, feeling his bloated sac of sperm slap against her lower thighs, feeling his pelvis grind hard against her lewdly upturned ass cheeks, feeling his wiry pubic hair tickle her velvety skin pleasurably.
"Mmmmmmm!" muttered Stan as he withdrew his great rod, thrust forward again, withdrew, thrust forward. His hands came around to closer over and knead her perfect, firm tits, thumbs tweaking the nipples as he squeezed the globes joyously. He was heaving forward now with long, drubbing strokes, driving his great shaft far up into her belly, and Dawn's head was resting on the pillow with her hands clutching spasmodically at the spread in her spiraling passion.
"Fuck back!" Stan commanded, driving mercilessly into her. "Come on ... sweetheart ... fuck back!"
And Dawn obeyed, mindless with passion now, her hips swirling with looping rotations back against the hot, hard wonderful cock ripping into her cunt. Harder and harder, wilder and wilder, her buttocks buffeted against his heaving loins, and Stan's hands threatened to exert enough pressure as he squeezed her breasts to pop the nipples right off.
Dear God, she thought, never had anything been this good, this wild, this free ... The afternoon with Leland Edgewater was a sexual nonentity compared to this wonderful fucking from behind she was receiving from her husband! Oh she loved it, loved it more than anything she had ever experienced before, she was free and reborn, a new woman, a woman of the flesh for if sex could be this good she wanted it again and again and again...
"I'm ... I'm going to ... to cum!" Stan suddenly shouted behind her, fucking into her gyrating buttocks with almost sadistic rammings now. "Yes, I'm there, I'm ... cccuuummmiiinnnggg!"
Dawn felt lancing flames burst from the magnificent muscle pounding and ripping into her vaginal tunnel from arrears, felt the hot stickiness of his cum pour into her belly, inundating her cuntal walls as her husband moaned and mewled and clutched convulsively at her flesh. His prick jerked and lashed in a lewd dance macabre in her vagina as his balls contracted, emptying themselves of his tremendous load of semen.
She jerked and twisted and buffeted back against the paroxysming prick of her loved one, she began to chant: "Yes! Fuck it hard, fuck it hard, keep cumming darling, don't stop cumming, don't stop cumming.. . ! "
The very salaciousness of her words sent her own orgasm over the high peak of enrapturement, and she screamed in a high wailing voice, screamed like a woman dying of the most acute pleasure-pain. Wave after delicious wave of floating, drifting climax carried her out of herself, to far reaches of the spirit, to wonders never before imagined, surpassing by millenniums the cumming she had so recently experienced with LeLand Edgewater.. .
Finally, when Stan's cock had given its last spurt of semen, he collapsed forward, driving Dawn's now limp body onto the bed. He lay there on top of her, his prick still soaking in the combined juices of their orgasm inside her pussy. Little rivulets of the male-female liquid squeezed out around his now flaccid member and flowed down onto the bed beneath Dawn's still widely splayed legs. After awhile, Stan removed his cock with a soft sluicing sound, watching fascinatedly as a single gossamer strand of semen trailed from her vagina to the shiny glans, and then he lay down beside her.
It was Stan who broke the long, ensuing silence. "Sweetheart ... baby, that was the most wonderful few moments of my life! When I came-when we came together-I thought I was going to go insane with delight!"
She kissed his face, caressed his sweat-slick body tenderly. "I know, Stan darling, I know."
"Leland Edgewater ... ? " he began tentatively, after another silence, briefer this time.
"You don't have to ask," she whispered lovingly. "You're the only man in my life, the only man who could ever make me feel as I do now."
"You're different, Dawn," he said softly. "You're a different woman."
"Yes, I know. I'm ... awakened, I think. Somewhere deep inside was buried sexual heights I never imagined, and now they've been let loose. I ... I'm only sorry it didn't happen before."
"It happened," he said quietly. "Let's be thankful, Dawn, that it happened. No matter in what way."
"I love you, baby."
"No more than I love you," Stan said, and after a few moments, they fell asleep in one another's arms.
CHAPTER 5
The dawn broke through the windows, flooding the bedroom with honey-colored light, and from the branch of a nearby tree, sparrows twittered and robins chirped in singing praise of the good day to come. A few cottages away the history professor's wife was mowing the lawn, the put-put of her power mower the only sharp sound in the otherwise idyllic setting.
Dawn turned over in the bed, sighed, and stretched her arms as she awakened. She blinked a few times to rid her eyes of the sand of sleep, and then as full consciousness returned, she leaned over and stared at her still-dreaming husband.
I love you, Stan. I truly do. It was as if last night was fated to be, as if through some divine destiny our mutual infidelity was proscribed in order to achieve some greater good ... yes, so that we would learn more about ourselves and about the wonderful life around us. We are now closer and happier and more fulfilled...
Joyously, with the affection and tenderness of a woman toward her one and only mate, she slid the covers back and rose, padded naked briefly to the bathroom and then downstairs to the kitchen. She fixed a tray of coffee and sweet rolls, and bearing her gift of love, she made her way back up to her husband.
"Stan!" she called softly, "Oh Stan!"
Stan mumbled incoherently, tried to pull the sheets over him, then came awake. He yawned and sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Good morning, darling," Dawn said, "I have a surprise for you." She stood next the bed, tray in hand, and Stan smiled as he saw what she had done. She positioned the tray on his lap then crawled in beside him and took the cup of coffee she had prepared for herself.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Stan said.
"It's because I love you," she replied happily.
"You loved me before, but never did anything like this!"
She smiled widely and warmly. "Lots of things have changed in me, Stan. I'm ... a new woman."
Stan sipped his coffee. "I fell in love with the old Dawn."
"Perhaps, but I think that you fell in love with what you thought Dawn should have been ... a woman ... and that when you found out I wasn't, well ... that's what has caused all the trouble. We weren't together like married couples ought to be. We were together like kids on a date, and it was all my fault." "No, no!"
"Shhh, yes, Stan. And you know something, darling? When I woke up this morning and looked at your handsome body in bed next to me, I thought to myself that it was something like divine providence which had prompted you to go to Faith Edgewater, and I to have sex with Leland. It was meant to be, because, darling, we were meant to be, and that was the only way we would have ever learned to stay together."
Stan was silent for a long while, drinking his coffee and eating the buttered roll. Finally he turned to Dawn and said, "I'm glad you feel this way, darling, because ... because our sex life did improve last night. But I'm not so sure it was divine guidance so much as the Edgewaters who bought us together."
"I don't follow. What do you mean?" Stan frowned. "I've been thinking, and it seems to me that it was a plot by them. For instance, Faith was pretty confident that I'd fall, after that night you were horrified by those treasures of theirs. Perhaps it was all arranged, and the little last-minute get-together was really sort of a test to see how we would react, and then they took it from there."
"Yes, I see what you mean," Dawn said thoughtfully. "And the film ... awfully convenient, if you ask me. Leland said he had found it, but I wonder if he wasn't the one who took it to begin with, knowing that I would be angry and hurt.. . " "And aroused," grinned Stan. "Hotter than hell, if you want to know," Dawn giggled with a slight blush.
"I do. I always want to know." Stan looked fondly at his newborn wife, and the urge to copulate was strong. He had never done it in the morning ... it sounded like fun. His cock grew beneath the sheets. He reached out a tentative hand to his wife, and she put her coffee cup down on the table beside her, moved the tray off his lap, and snuggled close to him. His hands slowly and softly caressed her velvet skin, and little ripples of pleasure corrugated through her. She let her hand stray down the flat plane of his stomach, over the mound of his muscular lower abdomen and then into his pubic bush. She tickled the base of his cock then began to stroke its now fully erect, quivering shaft with the tips of her fingers. Her touch made Stan groan involuntarily, it being like a warm feather of erotic sensuality.
"It's funny," she murmured, her hands still playing, "But I think you're right, and it was a plot by the Edgewaters. And I'm not angry one bit. They probably only wanted to gratify themselves, but what they ended up doing far outweighs their motives."
"I can face them again and not be ashamed. In fact, I'd almost like to see them again and tell them that we know and understand."
"Why don't we?" suggested Dawn. "Let's call on them, today, later on this morning."
"Later on...? " Stan whispered as he kneaded her tender breast.
"Mnnnn," gurgled Dawn. "Later on ... after we make each other happy again!"
* * *
Faith Edgewater answered the door in a pair of dainty, see-through black baby-dolls. She smiled as she saw that the visitors were the Ballards, and without any concession to modesty, she opened the door wider and invited Stan and Dawn in.
"Who is it, honey?" the familiar voice of LeLand Edgewater called down from the bedroom.
"Stan and Dawn," Faith replied.
"I'll be right down," he said.
Faith led the way to the kitchen where she poured the Ballards coffee, and then they all retired to the living room. The ripe, full moons of her sensuous buttocks swayed provocatively as she walked, and Stan glued his eyes to them and the lithe back and legs. The lace baby-doll came to the bottom crease of her buttocks, accentuating her thighs below and the hobbling globes above, and he tried to determine whether she was wearing any panties underneath. God knows she certainly wasn't wearing any brassiere!
In spite of the fact that he had satiated his cock inside his wife but an hour earlier, he reacted with a sudden erection-something, which, after finishing with Dawn, that he would have doubted could have happened for a week-when this gorgeous piece of female flesh had opened the door. As he sat down on the couch he once more ogled the splendid breasts which jutted prominently, their full areolae and maraschino cherry nipples almost forcing holes through the fine gossamer material. He couldn't believe it! She was so abandoned, so ... blatant with her sensuality.
Faith crossed her magnificent legs, and Dawn thought the same wild reflections as her husband. When she had stood fully dressed on the porch and seen the Aphrodite-proportioned woman in the doorway, she had suddenly and completely understood why Stan had been unable to resist. Before Faith had been clothed when they had met, and later, on film, it still did not do justice to the full beauty and seductiveness of her-but there, with nothing but a wispy gown to accentuate her delights, Faith was in her true glory, and Dawn felt a small twinge of envy. Her breasts, so large and round and full, yet without the sag so many other women experience when ample, and her thin waist and her perfectly proportioned thighs and hips, molding into legs a model would covetous of. Dawn could not blame Stan for being won over, for allowing her to wreak her sex upon him....
"Ah, so good to see you again," Edgewater said, smiling expansively as he stepped into the living room. He wore a colorful bathrobe, tied at his waist with a satin sash, his long, muscular legs bare beneath it. Dawn had the strange, almost titillating feeling that the robe was all that he wore, and that if one were to undo the sash and let the robe draw open, one would see his Cyclopean cock hanging over his hairy, burly scrotum. A tingle of unusual prurience went through her, making the cup in her hand tremble.
"What brings you around? Anything special?" Edgewater asked, sitting down beside his wife on the sofa and accepting the coffee which she had previously prepared for him.
Dawn looked at Stan, a small flush of embarrassment starting to color her cheeks. "Well," she began, moistening her lips.
"We ... we wanted to tell you two that we know," faltered Stan, and then, with the first hurdle over, he said more confidently, "Last night Dawn and I confessed what we had done. The fellatio by you, Faith, the films with you, Leland; everything."
"And.. . ? " purred Faith.
"And we wanted to let you know that we don't mind. In fact, we appreciate what you did, for it brought us closer together." Dawn sighed and looked at Stan with love. "Very close together."
"Excellent!" said Edgewater. "We were a little afraid that there might be repercussions, and that there was the possibility that you couldn't accept the other's infidelity."
"Both Leland and I," interjected Faith, "had the idea that you two had inner depths untapped and once confronted with the idea of swapping, would be willing to learn. You were right as usual, Leland; but then, you were always good at psychology."
"That's my field," he answered expansively.
"Wife-swapping," Dawn murmured, rolling the lurid and depraved phrase around in her mouth, savoring it like some bittersweet candy. "Yes, I guess that's what it was. Wife-swapping....."
"Tell me Leland," Stan asked, "Do you do this ... swapping often?"
"As often as we can."
"We have found that it helps us," Faith added, "And has made our love stronger and our marriage more lasting. It's not a new concept; it's actually older than the Judeo-Christian idea of monogamous marriage, dating back to the Babylonian and Egyptian eras, and even before that, before recorded time. It's only within our tightly restricted society, where everything that is sensually pleasant is taught to be evil, is the precept of group sex shocking."
"You're right enough about that," admitted Stan. "We are environmental products, to be sure, molded by the society."
"Then you are certainly aware, Stan," Edgewater said, "That the individual must think for himself, that he cannot blindly accept the ideology of his brothers, for the rules may not be the best just because they're traditional. For example, horse-thieving was once a capital offense, and many were hanged for it-but not now, because the importance of the horse is no longer so basic. The same with monogamy, for no longer is it important that the offspring be proven to be yours, or, for that matter, neither is there the fear of having offspring."
"So ... so you thought everything out, and decided to have other partners. And you say that it's actually helped you?"
"Very much so. It's increased our physical enjoyment tenfold, having once dropped the binds of unnecessary inhibitions and given in to pure gratification." Edgewater smiled. "And my relationship to Faith has been more fulfilling, because both of us want to try a little harder with each other, to put more heart and soul in our love-making."
"But here ... on Abbington campus," Dawn said. "I don't see why you picked here if that's the way you want to live."
Faith chuckled lightly. "Oh, we're not so alone here as you may think. We've been able to join a regular group, that was already active when we came!"
"I can't believe it!" gasped the stunned Stan. It was incredulous! Group swapping behind the doors of this sterling institution! He looked at Dawn, who had her mouth open with shock, the news rocking her as it had him.
"You'd be surprised at the identity of the members," added Edgewater. "But that's unimportant now. What I want to know is if this changing of partners has done for you what it does for us. You said that it helped you."
"It has," Dawn said. "We ... we made love and it was very satisfying." She was embarrassed by her sudden bluntness, but then, why not? Leland and Faith were experienced, and it was obvious that they viewed sex with an adult acceptance. This was 1970, after all ... not 1870. "It was the best we ever had," she continued, "and I think it was because we had had sexual experience with you."
Edgewater was beaming. "Exactly so. I'm happy for both of you, and that you are no longer sterile or narrow-minded. I'd even hazard to say that you would like to do it again with us."
Once more Dawn began to blush. "I ... I don't know."
"You seemed to enjoy my penis in you yesterday," Edgewater quietly said.
Yes, yes she had to admit that he was right. She was emancipated, free from her past of bondage. She looked at Stan, seeing the light of love shine in his eyes, and she thought, I did have fun, and so did Stan, and our coupling was heightened because of our other gratifications ... I want to continue, to experiment in swapping with the Edgewaters, because I love my husband and he loves me and together we will become unshakable, together forever...
"Yes," she said stoutly. "I would like you again, Leland."
"Now?" Edgewater leered. "The four of us, together?"
"I-but we-" And suddenly, as suddenly as the realization that she wanted him, she found herself cringing from the idea. It is one thing to say you're going to do something, and another to do it when confronted. Her bluff had been called, and pinpricks of terror mixed with the tingling sensation of her desires. Dawn was forced to admit she wasn't all that free of her puritan heritage, and the image of her naked, making love with Leland Edgewater in the same room, in full licentious view of Stan and Faith actually was abhorrent to her. In a darkened room, yes ... alone with Leland, yes ... but together! No ... no ... she wouldn't! She couldn't!
Dawn panicked and looked over at Stan again, confusion and fright apparent in her eyes. Stan shook his head, indicating "no" and she saw that he, too, felt as she. Her husband was not as shocked with the suggestion as Dawn had been, but neither was he wanting to strip and plunge into the abyss of sexual frenzy with his still-innocent young wife looking on. He, as she, was not ready ... was still working up the courage mentally for the still impulsive leap off the high-dive of sexual pleasures.
Or-was he?
Faith stood, languorously brushing the palms of her hands down her golden shanks, undulating slightly and smiling with the tip of her tongue licking her moistened lips. "I know," she said softly, "It's a different story when you do it alone. Well, let me assure you ... it's better when there's others around. It excites the blood and fires the muscles to look over and see one's mate caught in the explosion of sexual releases....."
Stan groaned aloud and his cock once more leaped to the front, and he began to quiver all over. This was madness! He must think of Dawn ... of how this must be striking her!
"Remember the films, Dawn?" Edgewater taunted, Remember how seeing your husband being sucked by Faith aroused you? Remember how you couldn't take your eyes off the movie and how it seemed to bring you to a fuller, higher plane of satisfaction?"
Edgewater rose to stand beside his wife, and still grinning obscenely at the Ballards, and especially at Dawn, he slowly, insinuatingly, untied the silken sash.
"No-" gasped Dawn, but it was too late. With a moan of unreasoned trepidation, Dawn stared as the robe swung open and fell as Edgewater dropped the garment. Her eyes automatically traveled to his pubic region, and she gazed suddenly lust-provoked at his masculine cock and balls. Dawn shivered and squirmed on the couch, pushing her thighs back and squeezing her legs tightly together to attempt the impossible task of stopping the rising, churning tide of passion. Already her vagina, still warm and tingling from Stan's recent lovemaking and scintillated from the sight before her scandalized eyes seemed to fill with a renewed charge of sensual obsessions.
Edgewater's mighty cock hung limp, as if he had some miraculous control over its erective powers, as if his constant delving into the arts of fornication had endowed him with intimate knowledge of what his body could and could not do, and what others were capable of and how to take full advantage. For his penis, flaccid and swinging lazily against his turgid balls, seemed to excite Dawn even more than the immediate sight of an erect missile, and in spite of herself, she leaned forward and gasped, her mind ever filling with the eroticism of expectancy. She wanted to touch it ... to make it strong and swollen ... to bring his cock to the full height of its glory...
Even Stan was shook by the sudden display of his superior's genitals. Christ! The size of his prick! he thought. Even in his state of limpness he is huge and menacing! How the hell did Dawn ever take all of it? How was he able to work his gargantuan member into her tight, sweet cunt hole? His mind could not fathom his wife's physical acceptance, nor how Edgewater was able to keep from getting a hard-on now, with his wife so nearly nude, so provocatively moving next to him!
Faith sucked in her breath when her husband stripped and showed the group his genitalia. She stared warmly at his bushy black groin and the penis-covered scrotum, and her mouth salivated with increasing intensity. Slowly, with motions practiced and perfected over the many years, she crossed her arms and arched her spine, and slid the diaphanous wrap up to her shoulders and over her head, barely dissembling a strand of her red hair. Then she threw the black baby-dolls on the couch and began her wild fertility rite again, this time rubbing her breasts with the fingers of one hand and splaying her legs to show the fiery bush of her pubic hair with the other.
Stan panted and groaned, his pupils almost burnt by the radiance of her complete nakedness. His suspicions were confirmed: she had worn no panties beneath the baby-dolls, and his fingers twitched spasmodically as he thought of how he'd like to replace hers upon her creamy smooth skin, and tweak her nipples and pilot a course through the red valley of her cunt lips. ...
But still the fear, the strong and long-generated inhibitions tied the Ballards to their seats. Dawn, captivated as she was by Edgewater's cock and balls, could only move her hands in the vee of her lap, pulling and prodding her vaginal area through her black slacks, and Stan twisted agonizingly, afraid to touch himself or join the naked couple unashamedly.
"Come on," beckoned Faith. Her hands dipped to the furrow of her vulva, and she spread the soft, hair-lined lips to show the pink and tender folds of her labia, a stark contrast to the richness of her surrounding hair. Her right forefinger rubbed the palpitating bud of her clitoris, and she squatted slightly, her eyes tightly shut with momentary ecstasy. "Don't you want to feel my cunt, Stan?
Ohhhhhhh ... ohhhhhh ... yes, yes---I want you to take your clothes off and let me play with that magnificent cock of yours while you slide your long, dexterous fingers up my pussy."
Stan was almost delerious with indecision. He looked at his wife, mistaking at first her look of complete sexual carnality as one of shock, and he tried to stem his rising licentiousness. He had to ... he couldn't just screw Faith here ... Dawn ... not after the rape and the filthy words that he had used to her ... he had to show her that he could control his sexual fires...
Dawn breathed harder and harder, her lungs clawing for the air which seemed to be coming in hot gasps down her constricted throat. Faster her hands moved, tantalizing her own vagina through the restricting cloth ... she looked at Faith, at the way the woman had abandoned herself to masturbation, and she shuddered as she thought of the foul and lewd words Faith had used to Stan. Cunt ... cock ... pussy...
No ... no ... I mustn't let this horrible display of abandoned sex arouse me this way ... it violates the last barrier of sanctified coupling, denying the persons the decency of privacy and even the facade of love ... Stan, oh Stan, I would understand, for you are a man, if you were to fall for this debauch, but not I ... I must have strength!
But in spite of their most fervent protests, Dawn and Stan moved unconsciously closer to one another, their heat of fuming arousal mingling into an appassionato as they became closer and closer to one another. ...
"Kiss me, honey," ordered Edgewater, "Make me hard now."
Faith sighed lovingly and dropped all the way to her knees, with her fingers still sliding slickly out of her clasping pussy, she began to lick her way up the inner thighs of her husband. Her tongue took long, wet lappings, bathing his legs and thighs with the juice of her mouth, and then she touched the wrinkled sac of his balls lightly with the tip of her tongue. Dawn moaned anew as she saw the brown-colored scrotum retract in a jerking manner before the advancing probe, and Edgewater's reddish penis stir from its sleep. Faith licked higher, her hands worked faster in her cunt, and slowly but surely, Edgewater's penis grew rigid.
It was like watching the birth of some great snake. First it twitched, but as Faith licked diligently, his massive prick seemed to flex its muscles and the bulbous head purpled with pumping blood, enlarging before Dawn's stricken eyes. His corrugated shaft suddenly showed the lines and humps of his arteries, and then grew in length, adding inches to its girth with astonishing rapidity. At the same time it rose from the nest of his balls silently and proudly, like the flagship of a dirigible fleet ascending from a mast, until it stood out at an upward angle from his loins. Dawn was reminded of a gargantuan cobra at that moment, waving from the basket of pubic hair to look around with one, all-seeing eye for a victim to strike.
With a cry of perverted agony, Stan leapt to his feet, and grabbed his wife in his arms. His own penis was in full bloom, erect against his pants, and Dawn could feel his hardened muscle prod against her belly as she returned his clasping embrace.
"I love you, Dawn," Stan sobbed in her ear, "But I can't stand it ... I must ... I must ... Oh God forgive me!"
"Oh my darling, I want to, too," Dawn found herself replying. "I tried ... I tried to stop my passions, but I'm unable..."
"Let yourself free," choked Edgewater, "Ohhhhh, that's it, that's it, Faith...." He opened his lust contorted eyes and gazed paternally at the Ballards. "Quick, out of your clothes ... I want to fuck Dawn ... hurry, hurry ... my balls feel as though I'm ready to split down the middle with my cum!"
Their minds now completely filled with the orgiastic fever of desire, the Ballards did as Edge-water requested. They threw all considerations to the wind, and ripped and tugged at their restraining clothes, throwing the garments around at random, until the floor was strewn and Stan and Dawn stood naked and panting.
For a split second Dawn was acutely embarrassed, for no other person besides Stan had seen her naked since she was old enough to fend for herself. But then she saw the engorged and angry cock of her husband standing from his lower belly with all the fire and lust of Edgewater's, and once more absolute sexual fanaticism bubbled through her system. Her coral tinged vagina flowered with warm, sexual lubricants, and she found that she was putting her hand to her crotch in a imitation of
Faith's still flaying fingers. God ... it felt so good, standing without a stitch on in this living-room, surrounded by lover ... my needs overwhelming me!
"Stop, Faith," Edgewater commanded, "I want to fuck her ... I want to put my cock inside Dawn now!"
Faith rose and licking her lips for the last drop of her husband's clear seminal fluid, she turned to Stan. "Come here, Stan. I want to slide up and down that shaft of yours. Mmmmmm, it looks so big!"
Dawn shuddered with expectancy, and then she was in Edgewater's strong arms, feeling his kisses run up and down her shoulders and neck and across her cheeks to her mouth. For a lingering minute they sucked on each other's tongues, darting in and out to slide along the teeth and roof of the mouth in a soul kiss of heated passion. Then they sunk to the floor, but she was surprised to find that instead of lying supine for his towering cudgel, he lay on his back and gestured for her to straddle him. But I've never ... ! she thought with shock
"OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH lover! That's it! Faster!" Faith chanted, and Dawn looked over and saw that the woman was straddling Stan, his large, quivering prick standing upwards in her dilated cunt while she slaved away above him with jackhammer poundings of her smooth, white buttocks down against his loins. Dawn gulped loudly, her eyes glazed with the lusty fucking her husband was enjoying.
And Stan was in ecstasy. He arched his back and brought his legs up in order to sink another millimeter into the clasping tunnel of Edgewater's wife's voraciously hungry cunt. His eyes were tightly closed and his mouth had a wild, crazy grin on it, and he held Faith's waist in an effort to guide her rapid-fire thrusts.
Dawn mewled with overwhelming frenzy. She lolled on top of Edgewater and poised over his monstrous cock, rubbing the blood-bloated head in the channel of her vaginal canyon. She saw the matted auburn cunt hair of Faith grow more glistening, and she heard the slushing sound of the insatiable cunt as it drew its life force from the penis imbedded in it, and then with a heathen cry of frustration, Dawn levered down and buried Edge-water's rod all the way to its hilt between her wide-straddling legs.
"AAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH!" she cried out as the penis ripped open the willing but tight cavern. He thudded up against her cervix, then flexed his loins and the weapon moved outwards again, and the automatic responses in Dawn's fevered mind took over and she raised up on her haunches until his prick was almost at the door again, and then she surged upwards, then down, then up in the tom-tom beat of intercourse.
Stan rolled his head over and saw the startling sight of his wife abandonedly making love to his superior, wrapped up completely with the sensual pleasures of her physical being. He felt ambivalent for a moment, for he was caught between the lust of his own building orgasm, the intrinsic joy of seeing that his wife was enjoying herself, and the trepidation that she seemed to be liking the other man's penis maybe a little TOO well. But before he could sort out his thoughts, Faith redoubled her energy, and Stan was sent flying back to the dream world of sexual libations. Time enough to unravel such details as his thoughts later, he groaned to himself, his back lifting off the floor in an attempt to meet more fully the palpitating pussy of this pagan female. Time .enough later. ...
Dawn bent to her task, savoring the friction of Edgewater's cock rubbing up and down the ridges and dips of her vaginal walls, wallowing in the touch of his hands upon her breasts as he rolled her nipples between thumb and forefinger, drowned in the wet, lewd crashing of their loins together. She found that the best way was to turn her ankles inward and cup his thighs with the soles of her feet, allowing her more leverage and wider stance to swallow his lust-hardened rod of cockflesh.
Once more she looked at her husband, and this time Stan smiled back at her, and as he did, she realized that her orgasm was approaching with the speed of a tidal wave. She was almost fearful of being engulfed by it.. .
"Don't stop ... don't stop..."heaved Edgewater, "I'm ... I'm going to ... cum ... to cum ... to..."
Suddenly Faith screamed, a high, shrill cat yowl, and she seemed to vibrate on Stan's prick like a lightening ball on the end of a metal stick. Her orgasmic explosion touched off Edgewater and as her voice died it was replaced by his bellowing roar. He opened his mouth and in a blast of air, shouted, "Aaaaarrrrggggggg!" He sucked in more breath and groaned, "Cuuuuuuummmmmmmm!"
Great perfumed spurts of creamy hot semen burst into Dawn's trembling pussy, battering the very membranes and flooding her womb with horrendous force. Surge after milky surge blew from his balls, spasmodically gushing up and then rolling downwards to seep from the ovaled opening of her vulva.
Again Dawn glanced at her husband, and as she did, the force of her own climax nearly sent her toppling from the magnificent peg which had nailed her fast. "OOOOoooohhhhh!" she wailed, the thunderclap of release hitting her cunt and flashing upwards to her brain, searing it with intense heat.
Stan, his last thought before cumming that of how beautiful his naked wife looked as she was fucked half silly by another man, gritted his teeth and shivered violently and poured forth a torrential rain of sperm. It boiled and steamed inside Faith's sucking pussy like a monsoon, and he could feel his balls jerk and jolt as they sent load after load of sustenance to feed the insatiable hair-lined mouth between her legs.
The two women collapsed contentedly over their respective lovers, cooing and gurgling with satisfaction. Dawn's face was but inches from Stan's, and as they lay there, they made the extra effort of moving still closer until they could kiss.
As their lips met in a blending of eternal love, Dawn knew that Edgewater had been right. She loved Stan even more, now, was more fervently aware of her strong and unbreakable ties with him, and she passed on to him in their kiss all the tenderness and warmth that she felt for him. Yes, and watching him cum in another woman while she herself was busily gratifying her own sexual needs not only heightened the physical joy inherent in being aroused, but added to the concrete fact of her devotion. Everything Leland had told me has proved to be right, she mused as she kissed her husband again, I was a fool to be hesitant, to be shy and prudish.
But that was behind her now. As Edgewater's cock once more began to return to a flaccid position inside her, Dawn thought of herself as really the emancipated woman at last, and that while she had deluded herself before, this had certainly to be the ultimate experience. Free. ... Free to enjoy and love to the utmost of my ability. And this is barely the beginning !
And how prophetic her thoughts were. The rest of the morning and much of the afternoon was spent in revelry and naked debauchery. The four of them tried many varied combinations, all of them proving to be wildly satisfying to the quartet.
But somehow, none of them ever reached that pinnacle of success which the first one had, Dawn thought later. No, the initial challenge was the highlight, and the kiss of pure love afterwards the climax. The mental change had affected her immensely, she had to conclude as she and Stan walked home, and the rest was merely reaffirmations of the fact.
CHAPTER 6
Late the following morning, after completing a vigorous if strenuous project of cleaning out her pantry and relining the shelves with oilcloth, Dawn went into the bathroom and ran a tub full of tepid water. A nice long soak, she reflected, was just what she needed to soothe her tired and aching muscles.
As she stripped off her housedress and undergarments, she thought about what had happened the previous day. Lord, what an incredible afternoon and evening it had been! Orgasm after orgasm she had ridden to, astride the lathered and turgid-muscled stallion's cock of Leland Edgewater, her eyes opened wide to watch her husband and Faith cumming, to watch this other woman climbing and racing madly her hungry hair-lined vagina up and down Stan's devilishly hard pole ... If there was any doubt of her emancipation, of her complete reversal in matters physical, it had been dispelled by the lewd copulations she had been a part of-nay, reveled in! The complete bacchanalia of yesterday with the Edgewaters was proof positive that she was fast becoming sexually insatiable. PENIS, COCK, PRICK ... all the terms for the male member, all in capital letters, was skyrocketing to uppermost consideration in her mind. She was living now for the male cock whereas in the past she had lived in fear of it ... Yes, and most of all she was living for the cock of her husband, Stan's cock, for it denoted more than sex, more than sheer physical fulfillment alone; it denoted love, a love rekindled to heights neither she nor Stan had ever considered possible, a love of the purest and most endearing variety, a love to transcend all outside and negating forces for it was undestroyable...
Dawn was completely nude now, and she stood studying herself almost critically in the full-length mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door. Well, she didn't look any different-same hair, same trim, rich, creamy body, same eyes and same mouth, same physical appearance exactly. But she was different, all right; very, very different where it counted: inside, deep inside, where the essence of her being dwelled...
Her eyes traveled up and down her full, high-breasted body, and finally rested on the sparse blond pubic thatch which lay at the apex of her legs, concealing her clitoris but not completely, for she could see it peeping shyly from the fleecy strands of hair; framing the rich pink fluted lips of her cunt. And as she stared at her pubic triangle, her mind returned to last night when she and Stan had come home after the orgiastic day at the Edgewaters. She remembered how they had made love, as tired and as gratified as both had been; how they had had a great need borne not of desire but of love to couple-and they had done so. It had been good beyond belief, Dawn recalled, so good with Stan's hard, lovely prick ripping in and out of her vagina, again and again until she had screamed and he had screamed and they had both cum for what seemed like endless eternities...
Almost unconsciously as she relived the previous evening, Dawn placed her hands on the flatness of her stomach and her own touch was electrifying on her skin. She stroked her palms upward to cup and knead the resiliency of her alabaster tits, then rubbed her erect nipples tantalizingly between her thumbs and forefingers the way Stan had done last night. Restless now, her hands moved down once more over the silken plane of her belly to the blond, velvet-soft bush of her womanhood, fingertips touching the lips of her sensitive cunt as she had seen Faith do to her own yesterday. Her breath began to expel raggedly from her lungs, and there were stirrings of circumflexing desire in her loins and belly once more.
Dimly, Dawn thought: I can't do this, I can't masturbate ... Stan will be home at five, arid I can find the release I crave then, can fulfill the burgeoning desires inside me that are now almost uncontrollable...I must wait, but my pussy feels so good when I touch it like this, and my breasts, so good, so good...
Her cunt was beginning to twitch and spasm with seething desire now, flowing her passion juices out to glisten wetly on her golden pubic hair and downy thighs, and she abandoned herself totally to this new Dawn Ballard which had and was emerging. She spread her legs wide, squatting slightly, flowering her pussy wide as she inspected the soft, shining mouth circumspectly in the mirror. Her hips began a slow rhythmic undulation as she teasingly stroked her sensitive labia, up and down, up and down. Then she found the now erect bud of her clit and began to tweak it with little flicks of her nail, and passion rode higher and higher inside her body like molten fire. Low moans escaped her lips as she moved her finger still faster on her clit, and more secretions emptied from the bottomless well of her insatiable cunt, and she knew that yet another orgasm was soon to be hers...
The doorbell suddenly rang.
Dawn's hand ceased its flashing manipulation of her clit, and a low protesting groan bubbled from her throat. Damn, damn, damn! Now who can that be? Damn, why did that doorbell have to ring now, why did whoever it is have to come NOW? Just a few more minutes...
She debated for a brief moment as to whether or not to answer the ringing summons, then decided that she had best do so since it may be something important. You never knew. Grumbling, she took her terry cloth robe from its hook in the bathroom closet, put it on over her nudity tying it almost haphazardly, and hurried through the cottage to open the front door.
Dr. Willard Lytell, Abbington College's sixty-year-old President, stood smiling cheerily on the porch outside. "Hello, Dawn, my dear," he said jovially. "How are you on this fine morning?"
"Why ... good morning, Dr. Lytell," said Dawn, somewhat flustered. Now why would he be paying her a visit? She certainly wasn't expecting him...
"May I come in, Dawn? I ... have something I'd like to discuss with you." His eyes moved discreetly to her hastily tied robe, lingering on the outline of her high firm breasts, and then returned to her face. "Or perhaps I've interrupted something? I can come back later, if it would be more convenient.. . "
"No, no, not at all, Dr. Lytell," Dawn said quickly, not wanting to jeopardize in any way Stan's standing at Abbington college by shunning its president. "Please come in. I ... was just getting ready to take a bath, that's all, but that can wait."
Lytell stepped past her as she drew the door wide, smiling as he entered the cottage living room. He was tall and spindly, with thinning gray black hair and a long, oddly shaped nose. His skin was leathery, like old dried parchment, and his eyes were a watery, opaque blue color. He had always reminded Dawn vaguely of an ogre in one of those books for children, but since he had never been anything but pleasant and courteous to her and Stan, she rather liked him. In fact, the very nature of his grotesque appearance made him somewhat appealing to her.
"Won't you sit down, sir?" she invited.
"Willard, please," he said. "No formalities, Dawn; they're always so awkward and unnecessary."
"All right ... Willard."
Lytell grinned and crossed to the couch, the same couch upon which Dawn had allowed herself to first be fucked by Leland Edgewater. He sat on one cushion near the middle, not allowing Dawn much room of her own when she seated herself; she entertained the fleeting idea of taking another seat, but the couch was so positioned and Lytell was so sitting that it would have been difficult to talk to him from any other piece of furniture.
Dawn felt a vague annoyance at Dr. Lytell's presence as she smoothed the terry cloth robe on her knees. The passion which her fingers had instilled in her moments earlier was still present in her body, still strong and demanding, and she wished he would leave so she could resume her masturbation". She had no compunction about so doing once she was alone again, for her need for release was great and there wasn't any use in deluding herself that she was still Miss Innocent. She would make herself cum with her fingers playing down between her spread thighs, make herself cum, cum...
She suddenly realized Lytell was talking to her. "What?" she asked. "I'm sorry, Willard, my mind seemed to have been ... wandering. What did you say?"
"I asked how you've been lately, my dear?" Lytell repeated, and she noticed for the first time that there seemed to be a spark of fire in his watery eyes. He was looking at the front of her robe again, at the protruding outline of her nipples there, erect once again at her salacious thoughts. She flushed slightly, shifting her position, and the robe fell open to expose part of one creamy thigh. Lytell licked his lips, and his eyes seemed to spark hotter as he stared at her soft, buttery skin.
Flushing still redder, Dawn drew the robe closed. I never realized it before, she thought, but Dr. Willard Lytell is a dirty old man! For some reason, that thought made her want to giggle, and she had to fight to restrain the impulse. She said, "I've been ... fine, Willard. Just fine."
"I'm glad to hear that," said Lytell. "You're looking well, my dear. Lovely, in fact. You have an exquisite body, you know; truly an exquisite body."
"Really, Willard..."
"I've long admired your body, Dawn," Lytell said, and his tone seemed now to have taken on almost mesmeric, hypnotic qualities. "I've long admired the high firmness of your breasts, and the soft, tight roundness of your buttocks. I used to imagine what you would look like nude, whether or not your pubic hair would be blond like your tresses..."
Dawn leapt to her feet, her face burning now with embarrassment and sudden anger-and something else she couldn't quite define at that moment. She glared down at the college president. "You ... you have no right to talk to me like that!" she flared. "Are you drunk or something, coming in here and saying things like that to a woman young enough to be your ... your granddaughter!"
Lytell seemed secretly amused. "You're very lovely when you're angry, do you know that, my dear? Very lovely..."
"Get out of here!" Dawn cried. "Get out of here right now, before ... before I call Stan!"
"That won't be necessary," Lytell told her. "Not in the least."
"Then please leave!"
"I think not," said Lytell. "I think I'll stay and look at your fine, beautiful body. You have such a fine body, Dawn, so firm and full ... I can see that you're nude under that robe, and it excites me, Dawn. It excites me more than you could possibly imagine to think of what you're like nude under that robe..."
Why ... why, he has a hard-on! Dawn thought with an instantaneous realization. I can see it bulging there in his pants, long and thin like a snake ... what's the matter with him? Why has he come here like this, why is he talking to me like this when he was ahvays so polite and reserved before...?
And then Dawn remembered Leland Edgewater's words of the day previous, when he had confessed to her and Stan that there was an active swap group on the campus of Abbington College: "You'd be surprised at some of the members!" Was it possible that Willard Lytell-staid, respected, conservative Willard Lytell, the college's president-was one of the swap club members? It seemed inconceivable ... and yet, what other explanation was there for his actions? If he had been talking to Leland, and the Psych professor had somehow told Lytell of what had been transpiring between him and Dawn, Faith and Stan...
Some of Dawn's anger inexplicably waned as she stared down at the still leering college president; indecision took its place. What should she do? Should she say something about the swap club? No, that was foolish, for if he wasn't a member-if there was some other reason behind his actions-she could make irreparable damage to not only Stan's career but those of Leland Edgewater and Lord knew how many others. And yet, if he was a member, and she repulsed him, there might still be repercussions. Suppose he took out his rebuke on Stan, got him fired or something? Oh God, what should she dot
Dawn kept staring at the bulge of Lytell's hardened cock, and he saw where her eyes lay. He stretched confidently, then, lifting his loins slightly so that his apparent erection was even more prominent. "Yes, Dawn," he crooned to her in his intoning voice. "Yes, I have a hard-on. You gave it to me, Dawn; the thought of that magnificent body of yours gave me this hard-on. My cock is hard with the need for you, Dawn. I want you, Dawn, I want to put my Dawn-hard cock inside you, deep deep inside you..." , Noooo! her mind dissented. No, shut up, I don't want to hear your filthy words! Go away, leave me alone, give me time to think about what to do! Go away, damn you, go away old man...
"Come here, Dawn," Lytell said, smiling insinuatingly and holding out his hands. "Come here, little Dawn, and sit down beside me. I want to touch you, Dawn. I want to put my hands on that lovely, perfect body of yours. Come here, Dawn, come here.. . "
Again, Dawn's mind protested at the salaciousness of Lytell's mesmeric incantations. But the noncompliance was weaker this time. She felt somewhat dizzy, as if there was a swirling, eddying fog inside her brain, and she seemed to sway for a moment indecisively. Then, in that instant, with terrible insight, she knew that the indefinable feeling she had had earlier had been one of arousal! Yes, she was aroused by this old man's lewd compliments, his wicked words, his obscene but hypnotic tone of voice-excited above and beyond the passion which had been generated by her masturbating fingers. It was a seething turmoil inside her now, she realized, a crying voice that demanded satisfying, demanded release, or it would surely destroy her. Her pussy, in spite of her revulsion at his age, was secreting great amounts of hot, burning love juice down her thighs now, and her nipples were like quivering pain buds on her swollen tits.
No, no, he's an old man, an old man, I can't do anything with him ... it's sick, perverted, no no noooooo! But the protesting voice was a barely audible whisper receding into the back of her mind, and she could no more obey it than she could obey the command of an idiot child. She was consumed with rising lust now, the slave of her passion, and she knew and yet didn't care that she would do anything Lytell demanded of her no matter how much her old self-which was responsible, she knew, for the dissenting voice-begged her not to.
Slowly, her eyes glazed, she moved forward and sat down close to the old college president, unmindful of the way her robe slid open to reveal almost all of her alabaster thigh. Lytell gasped, and then reached out and touched her knee, lightly. Dawn jumped, but she made no effort to remove the alien claw; her breathing had quickened considerably, and she was staring almost as if she were in a trance at the now lengthened bulge in Lytell's trousers.
Then the president's withered, bony fingers were moving upward, upward along her thigh, caressing her flesh and sending little ripples of desire shooting through her. He moved closer, his other hand deftly untying the robe's belt and drawing it wide open. He sucked in his breath in a convulsive moan as the splendid sight of Dawn's young, un-trammeled nudity assailed his gaping eyes-the globes of sculpted perfection which were her breasts, topped with their hard, pink nipples; the flatness of her stomach; the soft, fleecy down of her pubic area.
"You're more beautiful than I could have dreamed!" he wheezed, his breath satyr-hot against her face. "You're Venus and Aphrodite and Cleopatra, all rolled into one!" His one hand circled her neck, reached down around to stroke the sloping plane of one smooth, snowy tit, index finger extended to touch and tease the glowing peak. His other hand had moved all the way up to the "V" of her soft, warm wet loins now, had touched the tender pink furrow tentatively at first and then with increasing ardor. He made little purling sounds of desire as his finger traced a pattern the length of her moistened vaginal slit, located the distended knob of her quivering miniature phallus, tantalized it for a moment and then, parting the soft pubic fuzz returned to the door of her cuntal channel. It slid inside, moving along the sensitive walls deliciously in a teasing circular motion.
Against her ear, Lytell murmured in an impassioned whisper, "Touch me, Dawn! Touch my cock, Dawn! Reach over and touch it and then take it out! Let it be free, Dawn my dear! Let my cock be free!"
And she obeyed, mindlessly, enjoying the salacious fingers rummaging in her cunt and on her breast. She slid her hand over' to him, felt the hard, slender outline of his cock through the material of his pants, tickled the head slightly. Then she passed her hand up to his belt, located the zipper of his fly, drew it down with a sibilant sound that seemed even louder than their combined and ragged breathing.
She reached inside, drew aside his boxer shorts, and located the hardened member with her fingers. She pulled it out, making it free, and then she opened her closed eyes to stare at his prick as it stood from the opened fly like a periscope seeking light. It's withered. Dawn thought numbly. It's old and withered, like Willard Lytell is old and withered, all purplish arid hard and wrinkled ... and yet it's exciting, his cock is exciting, oh God
I've become nothing but a depraved carnal woman reveling in the sight of an old man's penis ... thinking about how it will feel inside me, for that's where it will surely be before long...
She seized his weapon in her hand, began to slide her palm and the soft inside her fingers up and down its trembling expanse, playing joyously over its ridges as a porpoise plays joyously over the waves. She strummed the smooth, rubbery head with her nails, slid down to grasp the base and caress the wrinkled hirsute sac of his balls.
"Mmmmmmm!" moaned Lytell, his own fingers churning faster and faster in and out of her wet, warm cunt. "That's so good, so wonderful, Dawn! I love it, Dawn, I love it! But I'm an old man, and I'm unable to last very long ... you'll make me cum if you keep that up, my darling, and I want to cum inside you. Dawn, I want to fuck you! Dawn, I want to fuck you with my hard old cock deep inside you! Let me fuck you, Dawn, now now now!"
"Yes!" she heard herself cry. "Yes, Willard, yes! Oh God, I can't help myself, I can't help myself, I want you, Willard! I want your wrinkled old cock fucking me! Fuck me, Willard!"
And then Lytell was drawing her toward him, pulling the terry cloth robe from her shoulders, making her completely naked. His hands were feverish on his own clothes, pulling trousers and suit coat and shirt and tie and undergarments off and tossing them helter-skelter. Then he, too, was naked and she saw his hairy, parchment-skinned old body glistening with excited sweat before her eyes, his slender prick dancing satanically from his puckered loins-and she wanted him! Wanted him to fuck her, needed him, needed his cock to release the swirling, mind-boggling passion which consumed her very soul.
Lytell guided her down on her stomach onto the floor, sliding across the rug to position himself behind her. Vaguely, Dawn thought that he would fuck her cunt from behind dog fashion, as her own husband had done two nights ago, and she quivered with expectancy at the penetration. But then Lytell 's hypnotic voice was whispering strange panting words to her as he pressed the lubricated head of hs swollen cock against the nakedness of one of her softly rounded ass cheeks, reached his hands up to stroke her sides maddeningly: "I'm going to fuck you now, Dawn my beauty! I'm going to fuck you deep and hard, deep and hard-in your anus! I'm going to fuck your anus, Dawn, your tender little hairless ass-hole! Oh, it's beautiful, your ass-hole is beautiful all puckered and brown and glistening ... I'm going to fuck it, Dawn, I'm going to drive my prick all the way up your bowels!"
Dawn stiffened in sudden fear at the vile thought of her innocent, virginal anus being penetrated by this old man's withered penis. It was foul, disgusting ... but no, why try to kid herself, it was an exciting thought! The idea of being fucked in the tight, rubbery confines of her rectum was tremendously if fearfully exciting! She was emancipated now, wasn't she? She was free from the bonds of her puritanical existence, so why shouldn't she allow this old college president to sodomize her? Why shouldn't she cast one more vestige of innocence to the wind?
She raised up on all fours like an animal, turned her head, feeling the sweat of lust flow down from her forehead and armpits. "Yes!" she cried tormentedly. "Yes, Willard, fuck my anus! Fuck me between my legs! Hurry, Willard, I want to feel your cock inside me there!"
Lytell moaned with salacious, lubricious delight at her acquiescence, and he began to stroke her soft white buttocks, teasing the small, puckered mouth of her rectum with the tip of his finger, enjoying the moans of pleasure which were now emanating from Dawn's fevered mouth. Slowly, tantalizingly, he inserted the tip of one finger into her anal opening, wiggling it around inside, eliciting deeper animalistic whimpers from the subjugated woman kneeling like a bitch in heat right before his eyes. He drew apart the glistening mounds of her upturned ass cheeks, stretching the rubbery hole of her rectum wide with his thumb-tips. He leaned forward, so that the hard fleshy glans of his blood-engorged prick rested against the defenseless, sweating hole. He flexed his hips lightly, teasing the wrinkled shaft along the crevice, poising it at last at the tight, puckered sphincter ring and holding it at its base in the circle of thumb and forefinger.
Dawn was trembling with a combination of fear and lusting anticipation of this rape of her backside, this new plateau to her total freedom as a woman. She could feel the huge, bulbous head of his bloated rod resting at the gateway of her innocence, and her mind was awhirl with confused thoughts. Oh God, oh god, it's going to hurt when he shoves it inside me! It's going to hurt like nothing has hurt before. But I don't care, I want it to hurt, I deserve to be hurt. God, I'm so hot I can't stand it ... I need to be fucked, there, anywhere ... I need to be fucked, fucked, oh hurry Willard, fuck me...
" AA AA AA AIIIIIE E E EE Eaaaaagggghhhhh!" she howled then with violent, consuming pain that snapped off all her thoughts as one would a household lamp by flicking a switch. With a sharp forward thrust, Lytell had bored his slender, hard cock far up into her tight, virginal ass-hole, worming the swollen cudgel through the sensitive membranes of her anal passage to bury it almost to the hilt in the soft rubbery confines clamping tightly to it. He clutched hard at her hips, flexing again as he burrowed yet deeper into the warm forbidden depths of her rectum. The pressure of his lunges pushed her forward, pushed her head down to the fuck carpet upon which she knelt, and she grasped handfuls of the rug with her spasming fingers. Lytell began heaving forward with long, sawing strokes now, the rubbery walls of Dawn's anus expanding before his invading member until he gave one final, sadistic lunge and buried every single inch of his prick into her warm, defensively clamping rectum.
"Uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh!" squealed Dawn. "Ohhhhh, it hurts, ithurtsssssss! Oh God in heaven, Willard, it hurts so muchhhhhh!"
"No, no, it's good, it's wonderful!" the college president chanted behind her. "You have to relax ... just relax, my beauteous Dawn ... relax and fuck back against my cock ... it will stop hurting for you and become as wonderful as it is for me..."
Numbly, Dawn obeyed his instructions, grinding her buttocks salaciously back in savage circular motions against his drubbing prick buried deep inside her. And suddenly, what he had told her became true; her anal passage became accustomed to the hardened slender penis imbedded there, and she was overwhelmed by a sudden flash of desire as his bloated, wrinkled balls slammed against her wet, clenching pussy below. She was beginning to like it! Yes, yes, yes, she was enjoying this lewd, bestial sodomizing of her most secret parts now. Her head rolled from side to side and she buffeted back harder and harder against Lytell's pistoning shaft, churning her lovely cream-white buttocks in a wild, abandoned dance of perverted love.
"Uuuuummmmm, yeesssssss!" she screamed. "Yesssss, Willard, yes, you were right, it's good, it's wonderfulllll! ... oh God, fuck it, fuck it, fuck my ass-hole harder with your beautiful cock..."
* * *
From his vantage point just inside the living room door of the Ballards' cottage, the tall crew-cut blond, muscular form of Rock Dawson watched the spectacle on the floor across the room with lust-filled eyes and salivating lips. He had slipped inside just as the old bastard had sunk his wrinkled prick deep up the ass-hole of the sweet little wife of Professor Ballard. He had heard her cry out in pain at first, and now was hearing her urge the old man on to greater and harder pistonings into her anus as she flailed her full round buttocks demonically back against him.
Christ! Dawson thought. She's really digging the old guy's prick in her fanny! Who would have figured that icy little bitch to turn on like this? She had always been so uppity around campus, like her goddamned shit didn't stink or something; well, she was really getting hers now ... and it wouldn't be long before he, Rock Dawson, would be getting his. Christ, but he'd dreamed about putting his cock to this gorgeous hunk of woman, ever since that time before she got married when he'd tried to get her to go to a beer bust with him up at Schuyler Falls and she'd turned him down in this cold voice like she was some queen and he was nothing more than a goddamned serf or something.
Dawson felt his prick harden inside the chino slacks he wore, and he let his right hand slide down to his belt, unbuckling it. He unzipped his fly, took out his now rigid, rod of hardened flesh and stroked it lightly as he watched Willard Lytell sodomize Dawn Ballard with grunting delight. He reveled in the wet plopping sounds of the old man's cock sliding in and out of the ypung woman's tender little ass-hole. Better give old Lytell a few more minutes, he thought as he lowered his chinos and his shorts and stepped out of them. The duffer liked to give them a good fucking alone first, and he could hold out from popping his withered nuts for a reasonably long time; so what the hell? Let him have his kicks; Rock would have his soon enough.
Dawson's muscled thighs corded with anticipation as he stroked his prick into further rigidity. He was tall, with bulging biceps and pectorals, and he wore his blond hair short and combed forward and to one side. He was Abbington College's star football halfback, had made all-conference in the small Midwestern league of which Abbington was a part, and was generally considered to be a Big Man On Campus by the bevy of coeds who followed him around. His father was rich, an industrialist from Canton, Ohio, and Rock always drove the latest in flashy European sports cars. His pockets were always full of money, and he wore expensive and ofttimes mod clothes. He was the current Student Body President, a member of the Swimming Team, and Senior Class representative of the Sigma Chi fraternity.
He was also a ranking member of the Jack and Jill Club-Abbington College's rapidly growing swap cult.
He stood watching Willard Lytell, another of the Club's members (hell, old Lytell had founded the goddamned group, for Christ's sake!), and he was becoming increasingly aroused by the way young Mrs. Ballard's head and body jerked and twisted under the old man's savage pummeling of her ass-hole. Lytell sure knew how to give it to a chick, you had to hand him credit for that, Rick Dawson reflected. Why, it was even a pleasure to watch him work sometimes, especially when there was such a nice piece as the stuck-up Mrs. Ballard involved.
His prick was trembling with lubricious fervor now, and he stroked it harder, feeling his balls burgeon with his cum. It was a good thing he'd been around when Professor Edgewater told Lytell about how Dawn Ballard was ready for full initiation; he couldn't believe it at first, what with the way she'd always acted. But it was true, sure enough, and he was going to be in on that initiating in just a couple of seconds ... hell, right now! He had to join in or keep beating off-he was too excited now to settle for just watching-and there were a lot better ways to get your wad blown than by your own hand...
Dawson started forward, holding his cock in the palm of his hand and grinning lewdly. He walked boldly up to where old Lytell was throwing the balls to the young Mrs. Ballard, and Abbington's president turned his head, saw him, and leered with his sweat-sheened mouth.
"Good, eh, Mr. Lytell?" Dawson asked as he stepped around to the front of the bucking couple on the floor, still holding his cock in his palm.
Dawson grinned still wider, dropping to his knees in front of the now raised head of Dawn Ballard, presenting his cock to her as if it was a long-awaited gift from some far-off land...
* * *
Ripples of horror skyrocketed through Dawn's passion-fevered flesh as she stared at the gloating face of Rock Dawson, whom she recognized instantly, and at his swollen, almost parboiled-looking prick being extended toward her face.
"Nice, isn't it, Mrs. Ballard?" Dawson asked, lightly fondling his cock. "Do you like my prick, Mrs. Ballard?"
"What are you doing here?" she moaned up at him, and then Lytell flexed forward, sending his immense cudgel firing hotly along her anal passage again. "What ... aaaahhhhh ... are you ohhhhhhhhhh!"
"Relax, my dear," Lytell panted behind her, kneading and squeezing her desperately writhing ass cheeks. "I invited Rock to join us, if I was successful in the first part of our little initiation this morning ... and it looks as if ... mmmmm ... I have been, more successful than I ... I could have ever portended!"
"Uuuuhhhhh!" squealed Dawn as he thrust his rod into her ass-hole again and again. "What ... what initiation?"
"Into the Jack and Jill Club," Lytell told her. "Leland said you most-likely wouldn't be adverse to joining, but we really couldn't come right out and ask you, now could we? So we prepared this little test.. . "
So that was it! Dawn thought helplessly. I was right all along about Willard Lytell being a member of this ... this Jack and Jill swap club of Abbington's ... my God, it seems incomprehensible but it's true ... as true as Lytell 's lewd penis sodomizing my anus, sodomizing it so wonderfully that I'm churning my buttocks back harder and harder against his loins to drive his beautiful cock deeper into my bowels ... I'm lost, lost, and now I'm to be further degraded by Rock Dawson, kneeling before me with his giant flushed prick held in his thick hand, the monster leering at me as he is leering at me ... Yes, yes, I know what he is going to do: he's going to put his penis into my mouth, he's going to make me suck him, make me taste a male member for the first time orally...
The idea strangely, suddenly, fascinated Dawn. She was going to be mouthfucked! Yet another barrier of her innocence has to be hurtled-no, destroyed, completely destroyed! She was about to be fucked by two strange men, two strange cocks-one in her ass-hole and one in her mouth! Subjugated, degraded, humiliated? Yes, but more than that, more she sensed than those simple emotions. She was to be taken on a wild, surrealistic ride to bliss by two cocks-not one, but two great cocks! Fucking her, fucking her, fucking her, lifting her to an orgasm of unequaled heights...
"Here, Mrs. Ballard," Dawson told her, obscenely thrusting his loins toward her sweating, upraised face. "Take my prick in your mouth, Mrs. Ballard. Suck it, Mrs. Ballard. Suck my cock! Suck my cock, suck it, suck it!"
Dawson rolled his hips lewdly, causing his hardened male shaft to sway just inches from Dawn's soft, moistly waiting lips. The tip of her tongue came out involuntarily to lick and wet the soft surface of those lips, and her eyes were fastened on the football player's cock as if it was some huge cobra's head and the lewd wet drubbing sounds of Lytell's sodomizing the lilting music of a fakir's hypnotic flageolet.
Then-trance-like, without hesitation-she thrust her head forward and touched her lips to the slickly lubricated head of his cock, flicked her tongue out to tease over the unseeing glans eye. Wild tremors coursed through her, and she opened her mouth to ingest the head into the soft warm cavern between her teeth. It was good, good! It tasted bittersweet, deliciously piquant! Oh, it was lovely, better than she had ever expected, how could she have refused such a delectable treat all these years? Ignorance, sheer ignorance...
She washed Dawson's cock lavishly, running her warm tongue along its underside to the coronal ridges and crown, playing and caressing it with every lapping stroke. She grazed its smooth rubbery head with her teeth, causing Dawson to moan in ecstasy, then return to the thick base and to the bloated sac of sperm which hung below, the wiry light brown pubic hairs tickling her tongue as she licked his scrotum and her saliva dripped excitingly along the organ.
God, she loved to kiss his prick! Loved to taste him, taste his semen! She wanted all of him now, all of his cock filling her mouth as the thrusting Lytell's was filling her anal passage, and she opened her mouth wide and took the full expanded length of his rod deep into her throat.
"Uhhhhhhh!" groaned Dawson as her lips touched his hirsute abdomen and she began to suck his cock with plunging back and forth strokes, wanting to draw the very essence of his being out of his balls along with his cum.
Harder and faster, Dawn's mouth worked on the boy's cock, reveling in the tremendous delight of two hardened male cocks buried deep in her flesh. Dawson's hips churned wildly, and he reached forward to wrap his hands in Dawn's hair, pulling her head tighter to his groin, urging her on with little purls of pleasure.
Lytell's balls smacked loudly against the wet, soft lips of Dawn's vaginal orifice below as his loins ground mercilessly against her full, firm ass cheeks. Then he drew his slender rod out just a little, watching with bated breath as the wet base appeared before his eyes. He moaned as he saw the head still sunk between the wide, tight-stretched pink-fleshed oval opening, and thrust forward again, his breath bursting from his throat as if his lungs were a blacksmith's bellows. A gasp of total abandoned lust rended from his throat, and he began sawing crazily in and out of her warm clasping rectal channel.
He's going to cum soon, Dawn thought, and she wanted Rock Dawson to cum at the same time, wanted herself, to cum as well-the three of them, all cumming, cumming ... Her head flailed from side to side insanely, her lips and tongue and teeth wildly sucking and manipulating the football player's turgid pole as her jerking head bent it from side to side. At the same time, she was bucking back against Lytell's driving cock like a rutting bitch canine ... buffeting and sucking, buffeting and sucking, two cocks, groaning men all around her, wonderful enrapturement filling every pore in her body ... this was heaven, this was Nirvana, this was Valhalla...!
And then Lytell gave a sudden, high-pitched, almost feminine squeal and his pummeling rod drove forward even harder, working demoniacally with brutal, drubbing, sadistic lust into her rectum. "I'm going to ... to cum! God, Dawn my beauty, I ... I'm going to cuuuuummmmmmmmmm!"
"Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, oh Jesus!" Dawson chanted wildly. "Me too ... me too ... meeeeee tttooooooo!"
And I ... so am I! Dawn's passion-fogged brain screamed in accordance with their cries. So am I ... cumming, yeessssssssss, cccuuummmiiiinnnngggg,aaaaaa.gggggghhhhhhhl
She felt as if the old college president's cock was jammed against her very entrails as he jerked convulsively behind her. A great, searing surge of fiery hot semen erupted from his cudgel and flooded deep into her rectum, filling her belly, filling her quivering insides to overflowing ... and then more of the torrential fluid paroxysmed from the opening in Dawson's rigid prick, pouring into her throat, bloating her cheeks and forcing her to swallow hastily around his jerking member to keep from choking on his billowing seed as he jetted stream after warm stream from deep in his ejaculating balls....
Dawn's own orgasm stuck then, a wild kaleidoscopic release that exploded her juices simultaneously with the volcanoings of Lytell and Dawson, and she felt their seed and her juices rushing to commingle in her stomach and even her breasts. They flowed from her ass-hole and down her throat and up from her steaming cunt to become one, to blend in the ultimately perfect recipe of total satisfaction. She went a little insane then, carried on to those incomparable heights of rapture, of total and unabashed bliss, as the two male cocks drained luxuriously in her ass-hole and in her mouth...
Much, much later-after Lytell and Dawson had bid her a fond goodbye, saying that she had passed her initiation into the Jack and Jill Club, passed it with flying colors. Dawn lay on the bed in the darkened bedroom, feeling completely fulfilled. She had no shame of any kind now, she decided, for she had truly, undeniably reveled in the lewd, salacious rape of her virginal rectum and her virginal mouth by an old, wrinkled man and a young, cocksure boy. And the perverted three-way coupling had excited her to an orgasm of her own unequalled in total abandonment. God, it been so wonderful, so inexplicably good! And she wanted it to happen again, she knew that. Again and again and again.
She could scarcely wait, lying there, smiling in the semi-darkness, for Stan to come home so that she could tell him in lewd detail what she had done. Perhaps he would be a little angry at first, but not too much and it wouldn't last. Especially when she made love to him afterward, made love to him with every nerve and fiber in her body working to make it the finest lovemaking either of them had ever had. And it would be thus, for she loved her husband, truly loved him. And if sex was so magnificent, as it had been with Dawson and President Lytell, without love but only desire, then genuine love made it all the more exquisitely beautiful....
CHAPTER 7
Stan sprawled lazily in the hammock, gazing at the spring clouds in the warm sky, occasionally sipping from a gin and tonic Dawn had mixed for him before going shopping, and generally taking it easy. It was the next Thursday, exactly one week after the Edgewater's momentous get-together, and Stan sleepily mulled over his innocent thought of that night about hoping by this time he would be enjoying a well-needed rest.
How true, how true, he thought. Testing and grading were over and all he had to do was lie around and gather his strength. It had been a wild and wonderful week, the nights and days spent in erotic games with the Edgewaters, and the balance of time spent in exploring the new and vastly deep changes in Dawn. He took another swallow of his drink and smiled, reminiscing back to the fantastic night he screwed her after she had "confessed" her part in the a trois orgy with Rock Dawson and Willard Lytell. Some admittance, he grinned to himself. Her eyes had sparkled and she had seemed to itch with the burning fire they had started in her ... the flames merely banked until his hot, swollen penis prodded them to life again.
He was glad, in fact, that she had been introduced to some of the other members of the Jack and Jill Club, for he was beginning to get more and more curious about it as the time passed. There had been the initial shock of finding out that Dawn had finally been taken in the ass-hole, the sodomistic practice one of complete abhorrence to her up until then ... but many things had changed over the last seven days, and he attributed the breaking of her anal barrier as but one more example of the revolution. There had been the hurt of not being the first to nail her in the ass-but she had been correct in her argument that being the first really didn't matter. What did was the fact that she had at last discovered that avenue of sexual pleasure, that it was but one more item to add to her list of freedoms, and yet another beautiful way of expressing her love for him.
Willard Lytell, college president ... and member of the Club. Stan shook his head, now chuckling softly at the idea of the old man still having the gumption to chase the women, still having the sexual prowess to please and satisfy. Rock Dawson wasn't so much of a surprise, for he was built like a bull moose and, as Stan remembered from school, always had his mind on the coeds during class. But Lytell ... good, old, mild mannered Lytell with his twinkling eyes and leathery wrinkled skin ... Dawn had said his withered penis had become like a steel pick. "Stan! Oh Stan!"
He looked up and saw that his young, sweet wife was waving to him from the car door, two sacks of groceries in her hands. He hadn't heard her drive up, lost as he was in reverie, and somewhat shamefaced, he asked loudly, "You need any help, honey?"
"No, stay right there. I'll be right out. I ... I have some news for you." She hurried to the kitchen entrance and disappeared inside the house with a slam of the screen door. There was a pause, and Stan began to wonder what she had on her mind, and then she appeared with a drink in her hand, walking across the lawn to him.
Stan grinned at his young, sweet wife's pulchritudinous beauty as she approached. She wore the shortest of white shorts, her long tapered legs slightly tanned from the sun and the flat plane of her stomach adding contrast to the band of modesty. She had taken one of Stan's old shirts, cut off the sleeves and hemmed it, and was wearing it with its tails tied beneath her breasts. Her tits bobbed slightly, indicating that she had worn no bra to the store, and Stan thought how that provocative sight must have upset the elderly, bridge-playing set she had probably run into while shopping.
"May I say that you are very appealing," Stan said, feigning a slow and courtly bow. "Would you care to go in the house, ma'am'selle and perhaps partake of the delights of the flesh?"
Dawn giggled at his antics. "I thought you were tired."
He smiled, "I was ... until you came." He saw her eyes and read the concern, or perhaps it was indecision, that was in them, and with a small frown he asked, "What's the news you had?"
"Well, I ran into Faith in the market. She was buying some things for an outing that she and Leland were going on."
"Yes? So?"
Dawn bit her upper lip. "She invited us to join them."
"Sounds wonderful. Where and when?"
"At Abbington Lake, and the invitation is good for whenever we can get there." She stopped, pursed her lips, and then said softly, "It's ... it's with the Jack and Jill Club."
"Oh."
"We don't have to go if you don't want to." "Do you?"
"I ... I think so," she replied hesitantly. "I've become a new woman. No, I'd have to say I've become a woman at last. Are you sorry?"
"Not if it has made you happy."
"Hasn't it made us both happy?" she hunkered down beside him, staring intently in his eyes. "I don't want to go if you feel wrong about it, and if you like, we could even stop seeing the Edge-waters the way we have. It's up to you."
"I ... say we go!" he said suddenly. "There's a great deal of truth in the way you feel, and maybe the Jack and Jill Club will be an even better experience for us. In any case one try with their way won't kill us." Stan jumped out of the hammock, and grasping his wife around the waist with his left hand, he led her to the house.
Later, as Dawn sat beside her husband in the car, she thought of how fast things were happening to them. They were speeding at a rate which made it almost impossible to absorb an experience before they were skyrocketed to another plateau. The only constant was the love she and Stan shared, and she did not want to endanger that, for all of the other sex she was having would have little meaning, little purpose unless it was tied into the greater splendor of true love. She gazed out of the window at the passing Illinois countryside, feeling the heat of the warm spring day upon her skin, and she throbbed with the intense passion she had discovered for her husband. She turned suddenly to Stan and blurted, "If we change partners today, Stan, I want you to remember one thing. Remember I love you. I'll love you more than ever, and when we make love afterwards, it will be making love, not just coupling, and it will be better than either of us could have separately."
Stan grinned at her. "I know. And I love you, too."
She peered out of the windows again, better for her impulsive affirmation of her feelings, yet still nervous in a tantalizing way. Today was an important one for her ... yes, for her and her husband as well.
Today, by accepting the invitation from the Jack and Jill Club, she realized that she was going to lose the last wisp of inhibition, for there was always the idea that she could hide behind the rational of being drunk, or being overcome momentarily by passion, but by going to Abbington Lake she was admitting to herself, and others, especially to her husband, that she wanted sex for sex's sake.
She brushed a strand of blond hair from her face.
I'm going to a group swap, planning to revel in an activity which would make the hair stand on end of righteous blue-noses, but that didn't matter. She was willing to participate; more than willing, actually looked forward to it; for she felt driven by the need to divest herself of the last bonds of her previous existence. She had to completely emerge from the smother of Victorian prudery, as a caterpillar must emerge entirely from its cocoon before it can open into a butterfly. She was no longer the child of her mother and a product of her mother's mother-she was a woman of her own right, full-blooded, ripe, and alive!
Yes, she wanted to ... fuck, and no longer did that horrid word make her cringe. It somehow described what she wanted perfectly, just as she preferred to call what she and Stan did as making love. Fuck ... fuck Leland, and God knows who else. She groaned unconsciously, for a shiver of fear coursed up her spine at the thought of other, strange cocks again and again violating the sanctity of her body, and a sudden welling of trepidation filled her much as the thought of meeting new people can terrify a timid, retiring girl. But the lubricating fluids deep in her womb began their production in anticipation, and seeped from her vagina. She wriggled in her seat, trying to avoid the tingling sensors of pleasure which tickled her skin by moving closer to the protective warmth of Stan.
Dawn placed her hand on Stan's leg and saw that he reacted to her touch with a gasp and shudder. She smiled and the prurient desires which were charging through her made her move her hand higher, rubbing her palm along the top of his inner thigh. Stan moaned and looked down at her tracing fingers and he spread his legs wider to allow her greater access.
"God, Dawn," he moaned, "Not here. I'll crash the car!"
"Don't mind what I'm doing," she teased, knowing full well he could not break his mind from her fondlings, "You keep your eyes on the road."
She touched the outline of his penis through his pants. He jerked the wheel and the outline grew wider and longer, his cock stiffening in his underpants until he thought it was going to break in half.
"Want me to stop?" she taunted, her fingers fumbling for the zipper. Stan gurgled low in his throat. Her hand insinuated itself inside his pants once the zipper was down, and then she slid under the band of his shorts. His flesh was hot and palpitating with desire. "Want me to stop, Stan?" she repeated.
"Yes....." he wheezed. "I can't drive when you're ... you're..."
She located his eager cock with the magic probe of her touch and it jumped convulsively when she stroked its bloated head with her fingernails.
"Yes, please stop..." Then he groaned. "No, no ... I love the feel of your hand ... Ohhhhhh."
Dawn reveled in the act of touching her husband's penis, not believing that this was her ... the same woman who a week ago would have reviled at the idea of such a wanton act. She worked his cock around and then unbuckled his pants, laying apart the flaps of his trousers so she could see the full, upward growth of his magnificent, passion-tinted rod. It waved provocatively in the furrow of his lap, and the cool air rushing across its rigid shaft made Stan wince with delicious agony. Then her hand was once more on his prick, moving the skin up and down in swift beats, her fingers curled in a steel grasp which made the friction of her jackings liked satin sandpaper to him.
"If ... if you ... don't ... stop that," Stan said through gritted teeth, "I'm ... going to ... cum all over myself!"
Dawn laughed lightly, and with the inherent ability of a born courtesan, she changed her touch to a lighter, more provocative feathering, which stopped Stan from reaching a climax, but spiraled him farther and farther up the ladder pf rapture. He kept on driving somehow, and the miles glided by with Dawn enjoying the work at hand, and Stan enjoying it even more. The county highway stretched on into the afternoon sun.
Abbington Lake was Northwest of the town, and the little private beach they were headed for was on the nearest shore as the county highway traversed the bottom end of the lake. Stan turned off the highway onto a gravel road, stopped by a chain which crossed the road between two posts, one of which had a weathered sign proclaiming this was private property and to keep out, and parked beside a group of other cars that had been pulled off the road into the grass.
"This looks like the place, all right," he said as he put on the hand brake.
Dawn, her hand still tightly wrapped around Stan's pleading cock, stopped her massaging torture and smiled at him. "It's where Faith said the party was going to be ... and there, beside the blue sports car. Isn't that the Edgewater's car?" As Stan turned to look, she snuck back a hand to the still erect, still displayed penis, and she chucked it under its coronal ridge much as she might have a baby's chin. "Want me to make you cum, darling?" she said throatily.
Stan groaned. "God ... you've been playing games with it for the past ten miles. It doesn't need any help ... it'll shoot off by itself!"
Dawn laughed. "Then let's save it," she said. "I'll get the things, and you bring the liquor, and let's get going!"
Stan flinched. "But ... I'm about to explode! I can't go down there like this!"
"Zipper up," she said liltingly. "I'm getting out. See you down there!"
"Hey!"
Dawn opened the door and reached behind the seat for the sack of groceries. It contained some hot dogs, buns, and marshmallows, as well as some homemade German potato salad which she had left over and thought to bring along. She waved to her obviously frustrated mate, and started down the path which ran to the beach on the other side of the chain. She went slowly, deliberately, knowing that Stan would soon catch up, and he did, carrying the sack with the two quarts of Chianti.
"What a lousy thing to do to a guy," he grumped at her.
She laughed, enjoying her little joke, and knowing that Stan took it in the vein it was intended. She kissed him, rubbing her free left hand along his still bulging crotch, and he kissed her back most fervently.
They walked along the winding trail for another few yards, finally coming to a crest of a hillock where they could see to the lake below. The trail meandered through the scrub to the lake's edge, which had been formed of sand by man once the dam had reached its proper water level. They could make out a burning fire and the cluster of people around it and the few others who were cavorting nearby in the clear, still water.
"C'mom! I'm already hot enough to go in the water!" Dawn said, and grabbing Stan's one hand, she started down the trail.
"She's hot. . ! " mumbled the aroused husband as he followed.
They stepped from the trail to the large boulders ringing the sand, and then jumped to the shore and started along to the campfire. It was still far enough away so that none of the group could be identified, but as they approached, a man stood up and started jogging toward them, and Stan recognized the form as Leland Edgewater.
Edgewater met them halfway, and with a cheery greeting, he took the groceries from Dawn. "Hey, you two, I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to make it! The others are all here, and the meeting is about to start." He patted Dawn softly on the rump and then peeked into the bag. "More hot dogs, I see."
"What's the matter with that?" Dawn said a little defensively.
"Nothing," he bantered. "I was just hoping for steaks."
Edgewater introduced the Ballards to the group, but it was really unnecessary. Stan and Dawn knew most of the other members from college, and except for a little surprise at the identity of some, they felt right at home at once. There was Willard Lytell, of course, and Rock Dawson. Willard had an older woman along, a sea captain's widow from the town who Stan had taken his laundry to before he had married. Her name was Delores, and Stan never did learn what her last name was. Rock had a peroxided cheerleader along named Sherry Dickerson, who simpered a lot but had breasts of enormous proportions. That was why she had been picked for cheerleader: the opposing team would stare at her chest as she bounced up and down on the sidelines, oftentimes unnerving them to the home team's benefit.
Faith stood up, and her eyes widened as she saw the still-burgeoning cock of Stan's as it bulged in his pants, and she licked her lips hungrily. She had been sitting next to a boy that had once dated Dawn before she had hooked Stan, and he seemed more nervous when he saw her than the Ballards were at being newcomers. His name was David Astor, and Dawn smiled slightly at him, thinking how he had once confessed his love for her and her subsequent cold decline. Well, it looked as though he was going to get a chance at his dream after all, she thought. With an assenting smile.
The seven had been on beach blankets, drinking beer and smoking, and in spite of the slight breeze in the air, Stan thought he detected a sweet odor as though cream corn was burning nearby. They all had bathing suits on, although Sherry, the young college cheerleader, had hers unhooked and was holding it to her giant breasts with her cupped hands, and David Astor had a stain on the front of his suit which looked suspiciously new.
Then there was a shout and splashings from the lake, and turning, Stan and Dawn saw three others emerge from the water, one of them throwing a large, multi-colored beach ball into the surf as he ran.
All three were naked.
Two were women, their naked breasts jouncing and their running awkward, and the other was Norman Pierson, professor of music. He was balding but still handsome, with youthful freckles, and a light, engaging personality. As he approached, Dawn thought that he looked better without clothes on, for his stomach was trim and there was no spare fat on his body. He had, she was amazed to find, the longest cock she had ever seen!
It was limp, but it dangled and swayed a good four to five inches in length even when soft, and a shudder went through her at the thought of what that sausage-like monster must be like when it was extended to its full erected size.
With Pierson was his wife, Alice, who was a buxom brunette with firm, good-looking breasts and thick thighs which would cradle a man like an octopus as he fucked her. Her pubic mound drained water in a trail after her, for it was thick and bushy. The slender, willowy girl next to her was Astor's recent wife. Her name, Fran, and her quick, excitable nature had earned her the nick-name, "Frantic," but she was a sweet girl nevertheless, caught by the rebound of David's unrequited love for Dawn. Still, she had made him a good wife, and from all the reports, they were quite contented and happy. She had small, apple-sized breasts that were all goose-bumpy from the water, and a thin sparse line of pubic fuzz, almost nonexistent, which made her look as though she had shaved her pubes and it was just beginning to grow back again. Stan could see the clear outline of her pink, full cunt lips as they angled from her lower belly to the darkened shadows of her buttocks, and he savored inwardly the idea of spreading those lips and sucking the sexual honey from her vagina which he intuitively knew would flow from there.
David staggered slightly as his wife approached and he cupped one small breast and squeezed passionately as she kissed him. She rubbed up against him and moaned softly, and the display of sexuality seemed to enervate the others. Faith and Lytell kissed, and Rock took his cheerleader back to their blanket where she removed her top and then stripped off the narrow cloth around her loins. Rock, who was on his back, leaned up on his elbows, and as she straddled his mouth, he kissed her cunt tenderly.
Edgewater said, "Sit down, Stan, and start enjoying yourself. In a couple of hours the sun will be down and then the fun really begins." He turned to go, then thinking of something else to add the pivoted and said, "Oh, would either of you care for a smoke?"
"Smoke?" asked Dawn.
"Marijuana. Pot. A little grass." Edgewater chuckled. "Delores brought some from Chicago. She goes up there and knows some friends of her late husband who work on the tramp steamers. Delores meets all the boats."
Stan turned to Dawn, "What do you say, honey?"
"Well, we came here on speculation," she said. "Why not? It seems to be the thing to do on campus these days."
"Enough said," Edgewater grinned. He went over to Delores who smiled at the Ballards after Edgewater told her what he wanted, and then she reached into her large straw purse and brought out a cellophane bag full of the greenish brown weed, and cut into tobacco-like strands. Then she produced a little cigarette rolling machine from the bag, along with some wheat-straw papers, and putting the paper and tobacco into the machine, she made two firmly packed regular sized cigarettes. Edgewater returned with them and gave one each to Stan and to Dawn. "Here, let me light them," he said, holding a match up for them.
Stan sucked in the sweet smoke, holding his breath as he had been instructed, letting the swirling fog envelope each of the pores in his lungs. At first he didn't feel anything, but as the cigarette burned down through use, a pleasant euphoria overcame him. He smiled and blinked his eyes rapidly, loving the sensation, thinking that it was much like being high on liquor, but only nicer.
Dawn choked at first, but then she followed her husband's example and soon was floating on a shimmering cloud of consciencelessness. She smoked another joint, getting it from Delores herself, and found that walking in the sand was a great deal easier while under the influence. She felt as though her feet barely skimmed the ground, her physical being as uncaring as her mental state, or so it appeared to her drugged mind. The fogs of forgetfulness swirled through her brain, giddying her, making her think she was unchained from every care and worry of her life. She thought that everything everybody said was hilariously funny or deeply moving, and as she looked over the waters of the now dusky lake, she was enraptured by the little ripples and waves caused by the breeze. Time seemed to stand still for her, and she could spend eternity in the contemplation of whatever caught her imagine. Joy was intense and euphoria the essence of her soul. She tripped over the sand, flitting from one naked or near naked couple to another....
Stan was able to combat the phantasmagoric effects a little better, just as he had a bigger capacity for liquor. Nevertheless, he still found his senses deepened and his desires multiplied. As he walked to Edgewater, who was in a heavy conversation with Willard Lytell, he figured that he didn't feel much different than when he was inebriated and thought he could drive. He always became the greatest sports car driver in the world after he drank, and being on this pot, he concluded, gave him the same delusion of infallibility.
"...Garbage, that's all it is, Willard," Edge-water was saying, "They pour tons of it in this lake. I say we can't afford to develop this land around the lake, not to a bunch of tract house schemers."
Stan paused to listen, as he was interested himself in the local problem of pollution control. There had been much controversy lately on whether the town council should approve some permits for housing around the shores and bluffs of Abbington Lake, and Stan had read everything he could in the small weekly paper and had attended the council meetings, but here were two intelligent men discussing the issue. The marijuana seemed to increase his sense of urgency about the matter, and intently, he listened.
Willard Lytell coughed and then replied, "You can't stop pollution Leland, any more than you can stop progress. Now, Abbington needs the revenues and business profits which can be gotten from the people who would move here, and we cannot deny others the right to recreational facilities they otherwise wouldn't have."
"What a crock of shit, Lytell," Edgewater snapped, "And pardon my English, but I will not accept any so-called fact that we can't stop dirtying our own nests. I say that as time goes on, clean and unsoiled places are going to be at a premium, and we have to start right now preserving the last hold-outs of our national heritage."
"I'm on the city council, as you know, Leland, and I can tell you that none of us, me included, disagree with what they are saying. We also have to compromise. It's the story of politics. I'm afraid, and besides, the subcommittee which has been set up to form pollution laws for this area will come up with strong, effective legislation."
"That committee is little more than a do-nothing appeasement, who'll throw away this beautiful spot in the name of your goddamned compromising politics. And this is only one small symptom of a world-wide disease! If Faith and I ever have children, I don't know where the hell I could send them to get away from the smog and sewage and poison.
Edgewater was about to continue when Dawn approached, and with her was a large Doberman pinscher, jet black and well muscled. "Hi!" she said. "Look what I found."
"Ah, Rock's dog. His name's 'Alexander the Great,' Dawn. Friendly, isn't he?"
"Sure is. We've been playing fetch down the beach, but I got tired. What are you up to here?"
"A little discussion on pollution, dear," Stan explained. "Everybody agrees it's a problem, but the methods of solution differ." He turned to Willard Lytell and stroking his chin, he said thoughtfully, "You made a point a moment ago about not being able to stop pollution anymore than progress, and then you, Leland, talked about raising children as the world becomes more crowded, and quite frankly, I have to agree with both of you."
"I don't understand," Lytell said.
"I simply mean that we can never stop pollution, just as you think, until we learn how to control our population. Fertility, which up to now, has been the blessing of mankind, is now the curse, for as the population increases in the staggering numbers it has been, that automatically means more houses, more schools, more cars, more cities, roads, factories, and concomitantly, more wastes."
Edgewater scoffed. "You'll never get the urges of man to reverse themselves after a cultural tradition of tens of thousands of years."
"We're going to have to. The pollution we are complaining about is merely a symptom-a serious one, true-but the symptom of the disease of too many people. The first billion humans weren't around until 1830, LeLand, but by 1930 there were 2 billion. Just think: complete doubling in one hundred years, and how there's 3V2 billion, and at present geometric growth, there will be 7 billion by the end of the century, and an addition 5 billion added every five years thereafter. This could bring the world to a standstill!"
"I see." Lytell frowned, then rubbed his brow. "What you would like to have, therefore, is strict pollution laws now, and some kind of federal legislation to bring the growth rate down to zero."
"No more births?" Edgewater said in a shocked voice.
"No, just that the births would equal deaths, and that there would not be any more increase. Face it, love no longer makes the world go around, Leland; on a world scale it's a horror story, and "family planning" is going to have to change from a personal choice to a national control. It's the only way we can save ourselves, much besides this particular lake..."
Dawn, mind blown on the pot and finding her interests wandering to pleasanter subjects, looked around for more stimulating companionship. Delores was busy rolling more joints. Sherry and Pierson were busy on a blanket, doing something which was hidden by the growing dusk but which was causing great groans and mewls to rise from their locked embrace. Fran and Alice were in a lover's clinch, worshipping Sappho as they kissed and fondled their respective vaginas, and Faith was writhing on the sand, her fingers busy in her cunt as she masturbated while watching Pierson arid Sherry.
Then Dawn looked over to the water and happily caught the shadowy outlines of two others, which could only be Rock Dawson and Astor splashing in the temperate lake, throwing what looked like one of the Chianti bottles back and forth and taking great swigs from it as they did. Astor fell down heavily in the water losing the bottle, causing Rock to laugh loudly, and Alexander the Great, recognizing his master's voice, woofed and started loping toward him. Dawn turned one more time to hear Lytell expostulate on the problems of proper laws being kept up to date, and then she ran after the Doberman.
"Hey!" she shouted at the water's edge, "Got room for one more?"
"Sure, come on in, but you'll have to strip first!" yelled Rock in return.
"I don't think I can trust you if I'm in the nude," she giggled, already untying her shirt and yanking it off. Her breasts felt like balloons of warm air as they were set free from the restraining material.
"Why's that?" Rock asked leeringly.
"Because," Dawn said, wriggling her hips to slide the shorts down, "because you'll be naked, too, and you'll get ... an erection!"
Dawn was a little shocked by her sudden crudity and boldness, at her all-too-willing nakedness, but the drug had affected her mind too well. She was burned by the overwhelming desire to be FREE ... to swing and shout and screw to her heart's content, and love every sweet, musical moment of it. She ran into the surf, the giant Doberman barking as he followed, and then Rock caught her about the waist and hugged her.
" "It's not the cold water, either," she tittered as she felt his eager, thrusting cock rub her belly and thigh. She grabbed it for a teasing second. "Oooooo, no ... it's not the cold water that's made you that way!"
"No, it's not," Rock growled in her ear. "It's that delicious pussy of yours that gives me such a bone."
Dawn's wet, pink tongue darted out like an angry snake and she kissed the hairy chest of Dawson, rubbing his little nipple around her mouth as a man might hers.
My pussy is on fire! she thought. Is this what pot does to women? Makes them vibrate with desire, makes their insides molten lava and their vaginas volcanoes of lust? I can't stop myself from wanting him.. .from wanting Astor and Leland and Willard and Pierson ... all of them arid anything else male...
As Rock and she writhed in the water, their hands and lips hot and frantic upon one another's fevered skin, she asked herself if this was right, if this is what she truly desired, and every question was answered with an immediate, overpowering "YES!" She was the woman incarnate at last, absolutely unfettered, completely empowered to fill any quivering command of her lusting passions, and ... the most import part aoub that was that from now on THERE WOULD BE NO SHAME! NO GUILT! NO HUMILIATION OR AGONY!
She could do anything she wanted to do, and instead of being castigated, the others around her and she herself would only praise and bless her actions. What do I want! her heart pounded, What fiendish, debauched, carnal perversion do I wish performed right here, right now. with this man-beast? The thought of Rock and his magnificently enormous ax handle of a cock sent a thousand tiny shivers through her mind, and lasciviously she licked her lips. Finding them saliva wet, she realized that she wanted to feel that gorgeous penis between her lips sliding between her teeth and burying deep in her throat. Without a second thought, her mind transformed by the marijuana and passion into a nightmarish hedonistic den of lust, she said to Rock in a throaty purr:
"I'm going to suck you, Rock," she smiled moistly at him, "I'm going to take that mammoth prick of yours and suck that cum like it was snake venom and I was sucking it from you to save your life. I'm going to suck your balls dry, and if I can, suck them clear out of your cock."
"Jesus," groaned Rock, caught in the throes of her salacious words. "Yes, yes ... suck me!"
"On the beach," she said. "You, me, and Astor ... let's go on the beach where we can spread out.. . "
Dawn led the way out of the lake, holding onto Rock's bone-handled monster while she slipped her other hand to her own frothing cunt. Yes, oh yes ... I can't wait ... his cock is so excited for my mouth that it's doing a St. Vitus's dance in my hand, and my own pussy is alive and flowing like a flume....
Astor, panting raggedly with expectation of the delights, overcome by the desire to copulate with this woman he had so long had a crush on, stumbled from the surf, his own hardening cock leading the way, wavering like a water-diviner's rod. The dog leaped around them, and then they all sunk to the sand. ...
CHAPTER 8
Stan rose from the still smiling Sherry, who was splayed with sweat slick legs upon the blanket, her eyes tightly shut and her mewls of overwhelming passion still bubbling from between her clenched teeth. In the glimmer of the moonlight, Stan could see her dark thatch of pubic hair glistening with his cum juice and saliva, and then his own groin which was just as wet and slippery. His cock was still semi-hard, even though he had ejaculated in the girl twice so far, and he was tempted to fuck her again; her tight, warm pussy being so good.
He went down on his knees, leaning over her prostrate form like a jackal awaiting his feast, rubbing his moistly sheened cock with his hand to excite it to full erection again, and Sherry stroked her body and breasts with her hands, writhing slightly and moaning. He paused, then began lowering himself to her cuntal mouth, aiming his swollen penis like it was a war-headed missile.
"No ... no ... lover," groaned Sherry, "Let me rest ... I've had it for awhile ... I"m sore from your beautiful mammoth prick ... oooooohhhhhh ... let me rest...."
Stan grinned maliciously down at the girl, gloating in his prowess. She was satisfied, at least for a little while, though he was sure that soon she would be begging for more. In the meantime, there were others ... so many others...
He got to his feet, his still burgeoning cock standing from his lower belly, wavering in the darkness like the snout of a ferret hunting a new victim, and then turning, he talked off. Sherry put her hands to her defenseless crotch which had been so completely vandalized, and turned on her side, still smiling ... still content ... and slept the sleep of satisfaction.
It had turned into a wild bacchanal, Stan thought as he scanned the beach for more action, a thoroughly carnal and licentious orgy rivaling anything he had ever heard of in Ancient Rome. While he and Lytell and Edgewater had been discussing pollution and the causal-effect relationship with overpopulation, Fran had approached surreptitiously and calmly began to slide his pants down. Edgewater and Lytell had begun to laugh good-naturedly, and Stan, blushing at such an overt, blatant act, allowed it to continue.
Fran had said nothing, simply grinned up at him as she squatted, removing his pants, shoes and socks with practiced ease, and then rising slightly on her knees, she began to lick his penis and balls with sweet, tender strokes of her tongue. He groaned, his cock bursting into full erection, as it was still tingling from the workout his wife had given it, and incensed from the nakedness of the three in the water and the obvious reasons for being at the beach. Stan's mind began to boggle, his head whirling with the softly perverse lickings, and then she was crawling on her flanks, wedging her head between his legs, licking lower and lower around his testicles, making them jerk and jump with agonizing pleasure. He couldn't help himself ... he began to squat slightly as she painted his inner thighs and coated his scrotum with her saliva, and then she began to breath heavier and heavier, moaning slightly...
Stan was tempted to lie down, but she pinioned herself to his legs, and he could only wince from the fantastic mouthing and look sheepishly at his fellow faculty members, who were grinning widely at his predicament. Then she cupped the cheeks of his ass, kneading them, molding them to her touch as though they were mounds of modeling clay, and she made him sit a little lower upon her face.
Suddenly her tongue slipped up and connected with the sphincter ring of his ass-hole.
"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!! ! ! ! " he groaned aloud, her flickerings causing such a beautiful, body-enveloping charge that he could imagine she was using an electric probe rather than the wet, soft pinkness of her tongue tip. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides and he revolved his buttocks upon her mouth, feeling her nose imbedded near his coccyx, and her sucking lips and stabbing tongue rendering his ass-hole into jelly.
Edgewater made the next move. He stripped off his shorts where he stood, flinging the elastic garment aside with an abandoned cry of heathen lust, and then he stooped and began to kiss the outstretched Fran. She, in the process of kissing Stan's anal passage, had put her legs out, using her shoulders and arms and hands to clasp herself to his rear end like a starfish upon a clam, and Stan could see her sweet cunt peaking through the slender growth of her pubic hair directly below him. Her legs were churning in the sand ... or were until the bulk of Abbington's College Psychology professor fell upon her pussy and began to suckle it as she was sucking Stan. She cried and bit one of Stan's ass cheeks from the wonderful explosion in at his desperately working anus with renewed effort.
Alice, her lesbian lover of a few minutes before ran across to them, squealing with delight: "A chain! A daisy chain!" Everybody join the group-grope!"
And indeed, she sunk to her knees, wriggled around in her naked splendor until her lips were touching Edgewater's cock, and then slipped his gargantuan sausage into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down frantically as though by coming late, she had to make up for it. Edgewater growled and burrowed deeper in the loins of Fran, who by this time had stretched her legs over his shoulders, offering the full expanse of her hungry cunt to his voracious mouth.
Then Lytell had gone bare and threw himself down upon Alice, chewing and gobbling in her box, stroking his long, old, cucumber-looking penis as he did. Then Sherry came with Pierson, and Sherry straddled the legs of Lytell and sucked his throbbing cock and Pierson began to eat her. ...
Stan was the first to cum, spewing his steaming seed in a jetting arc which splashed down upon Fran's naked belly, pooling in her navel, and dribbling down to soak her pubic triangle. Edgewater didn't seem to notice, but went on sucking and kissing her crotch as she and then he came, and then like the links in a real chain, his bursting cum filled Alice's mouth and she screamed her enrapturement and wriggled against Lytell, who in turn popped his white hot sperm deep into Sherry's hungry gullet. She almost buried Pierson's face in her unquenchable cunt, and he, as if the last nozzle on an oddly fashioned hose, blew his balls onto the thirsty sands.
Other games followed, and in the process, Stan ended up with the seemingly insatiable Sherry Dickerson, and then she gave up and decided to rest, and he was questing more ... and more ... and more. ...
He crossed the sands, stepping over couples locked in the multitude of different love embraces, skirting others who because of their formations, were too high or active to step over. There seemed to be a commotion farther down the beach, he saw, the writhing and moans of ecstatic indicating that the group was in the throes of some fantastic, overwhelming sexual fermentation ... three guys; no, two guys and a girl and a dog!
His heart leaping with the sudden urge to join in the primeval debauchery, he raced down the beach until he was close enough to see what was actually happening. Stan stopped short, the air bursting from his lungs in sudden abject horror, his limbs trembling from the carnal degeneracy of the scene, his, eyes recoiled by the venial, insalubrious depravity. He staggered back, a cry of pure wretchedness tearing from his seared vocal cords, his arms flung across his face to shield the decrepit cancer of their moribund appassionato from his blighted mind.
"No ... Oh God ... no!" he cried to the heavens above. "Not this ... not my lovely sweet young wife, sinking to such decadent corruption!"
OH God what have I caused? Stan's mind asked sickly. His brain was a seething turmoil as he watched what his wife was doing on the beach, and the idea that she was whimpering and purring with increasingly prurient bliss from her carnal acts made him blanch with con-triteness.
It's all my fault! I am the one who started this salacious carnival ride when I allowed Faith to seduce me. I could have stopped it then, should have stopped it, but no, my brains are all between my legs. No I have only myself to thank, my own sexual stupidity, for finishing in this wicked and perverted fetidness. It is a more immoral act than I could have ever dreamed of and worse ... DAWN IS ENJOYING IT!
* * *
When Dawn had stepped from the waters of Lake Abbington, arising from its pearly essence like Botticelli's "Birth of Venus," her marijuana drugged mind was intent on only one thing. Taste that cock of Dawson's ... rummage his shaft around her mouth and lick it with her tongue and suck it until he opened the floodgates of his balls and drowned her in hot, sticky, male semen!
"Lie down, Rock, let me put my lips on your cock. ... I'll suck you and suck you..."
Rock groaned, his tormented penis bloating into still heavier rigidity in Dawn's hot little grasp. For extra measure she began to stroke it back and forth, making the foreskin pull back over its monstrously bulbous head, giving the head the appearance of some kind of sea creature sticking out of its cave. But Rock was able to control himself enough to pant out, "No ... no, not yet, Dawn....."
"But I want to!" Dawn wailed.
"You sucked me off before. Let's do something different."
"What? WHAT?" she screamed, the turmoil of sexual arousal enslaving her to his slightest whim. "Anything, Rock ... name it! You want to fuck me in the ass-hole? like Lytell did? Yes, yes, I'd love that!"
Without any prompting, Dawn dropped to her knees then raised her rear end until her buttocks wavered enticingly in the air. Dawn kept her head down in the sand, her body a helpless toy for Dawson to use in whatever bestial fashion he favored. And she wanted him ... she wanted him to stick his gorgeous cock into her soft, resilient rectum and shoot, his load of hot, sticky cum far up into her bowels.
Rock dropped behind her and spread her pulsating ass cheeks wider and Dawn felt his terribly huge, viscid cock slide along the soft yielding valley of her buttocks. Then he ground the head of his lancer-like penis along the narrow valley of her quivering ass, pressing her soft cheeks of flesh around it like a tasty sandwich of perversion. He then leaned forward and kissed the ridges of her backbone and Dawn trembled from his wet contact. His full lips puckered and he traced his saliva down the full length of her buttocks and down, deep within the globoidal area.
Dawn trembled, waiting his painful thrustings, but none came. Instead he dropped lower with his mouth, sending warm and tender caressings up her loins as he tongued the soft, puckered entrance to her bowels. Rock crouched in the sand until he was in direct line with the pink fluted , ridges of her cunt, and to him it seemed as though the reddened folds parted and throbbed of their own volition and he could see the secretions which were moistening the tufted white sides. Dawn, lost in the salacious lappings of her nether regions, teasingly edged her ass farther back, salaciously spreading her legs to the football player.
He in turn moved forward until his nose was but an inch from her downy soft pubic hair, which framed her cunt like the softest of Allah's beard. He blew gently into the dilated pussy and her cavern flowered in answer. She groaned and quaked and although she clenched her vaginal muscles together, a great feeling of enrapturement flooded her. There was another hot rush of exciting air, and her behind opened up to him in all its furry glory, caressed to surrender by the thousand needle-pricks of his touch, and she began to churn her naked troso with a bellow of pagan passion.
Rock grinned obscenely into the wide valley of her ass. Almost ... almost ... and then she'll get the surprise of her life! And it ain't going to be my prick rammed in her ass hole! He chuckled hollowly, then bent forward and pried the lust-twisted cheeks wider with his thumbs. Then he shot out his tongue and buried it deep within the splayed vagina, and he heard her gasp from the thrust and then with a smothering cry she leaned back more, her rosy cunt walls expanding and contracting around his probe.
He worked behind the beauteous woman, making wet slushing sounds as he slavered, and her cries turned into a long, low, monotonous wail. He sucked and teased the sweet passage gleefully with his lips and teeth until she was almost out of her mind with salubrious euphoria.
"MMMMMMmmmmmmmmm," Dawn mewled. Her mind and body were lost to the completely abandoned sensations of his mouthing, and her cunt flowed and her pussy milk mingled with Rock's saliva and trickled down her legs. She was going to cum and her whole being quivered with the anticipation of her momentous release.
Rock sensed the impending orgasm and knew it was time to change the game. This was what he was waiting for! This would set him off to the moon-it always did, especially with new members.
"Are ... are you ready for a special treat, baby?" Rock stammered in his passion.
"Ohhhhhh ... yes, yes, yesssss! she gasped, "Anything!"
"Then raise your ass high," he ordered. "F-For you are going to have the most beautiful fucking you will ever know!"
"Yes! Yes!" Dawn cried, thrusting her buttocks as high as she could get it.
"Alexander!" Rock called out sharply. "Now!"
Before Dawn could fathom his strange cry, a weight was suddenly upon her back and something hard and wet and quivering slipped against her buttocks. Again and again the object floundered until she spread her legs farther apart and thrust back her completely expanded crotch.
"Look at that, will you," Astor said, his words only a fuzzy, vague blur in Dawn's passion and drug blinded brain.
"Jesus! She wants him!" Rock said in awe. "She really wants him!"
Astor grinned wretchedly. "You called him Alexander the Great, didn't you? And isn't he?"
The marijuana induced fog and the sexual torture of Dawson's mouth and fingers had worked their poisonous deeds. If Dawn had been aware of the conversation behind her, she wouldn't have cared; as it was, she was only cognizant of the strangely long and thin cock which suddenly soared up into her, spearing her hungry, lubricious pussy like a flint-tipped arrow.
"AAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH!"shewinced.God, it was a heaven-sent miracle, dispatched to quell the hundreds of angry demons who rampaged inside her love-starved cunt. She cared not whose it was, just so long as it was a cock inside the core of her womanhood, a cock which would stay inside her forever. She heard the guttural groans of Dawson and Astor as they sat down on the sand and began to play with each other's penises, masturbating one another and watching the sight of the Doberman pinscher fucking Dawn Ballard. This was all in the faint background of Dawn's mind, for her lover was hammering her with pile driver thrusts that were reaching her very womb. And the thin cock began to swell within her.
It was then that Dawn, bent on helping her magnificent male screw her into the beach, reached back to caress, and felt hairy forepaws clasping her back.
Dear God! It's that dog! It's that huge dog fucking into me back there!" Dawn choked on a scream of horror, but only a small wail escaped. Alexander's canine cock is swelling inside me! It's growing bigger, filling my cunt like an expanding balloon! My God ... it's an inhuman machine ... .I can't take this! It is too terrible to believe that such a thing would be happening to me!
The vile picture of the lewd dog mounting her filled her hazed mind. No ... no ... It wasn't possible! I am dreaming it in my drugged brain ... a horrible, repulsive nightmare...
But she knew it was true, no matter if her-mind rejected the confession. She was deeply shamed, having plummeted to this basement of perverted lust ... An animal! Dear God! I must have lost my mind! I'm insane! FORGIVE ME, FORGIVE ME she screamed to herself, But I can't stop now! Oh God, it's too good ... I don't care any longer who or what is inside me ... it's too beautiful! I want to cum! I want to cummmmeeeee!
She screamed out loud then, and heaved her ass hungrily back toward the humping Doberman's expanded weapon, her thighs trembling, her stomach quaking as if someone were pressing against it with giant pressures, her brain reeling insanely with the sensual reactions traversing her nerves.
"Pound your ass!" blurted Astor, "Pound your ass!"
"Yes ... yyyeessss ... yyyyeeeessssss," cried Dawn as Alexander rammed into her, his animal prick suddenly long, long ... and thick, thick inside her flooding cunt, those riveting lunges never letting up.
Dawson squirmed around so that he could see every movement of his depraved dog, and there, right next to her wildly churning thighs, he set his eyes, gloating in his pet's fine fucking ability. He wormed his way to a better position, and then stretched out along side Dawn, his feet near her head, and gently took one of her hands and placed it on his gasping cock. It stuck from his loins, straight up in the night air with a reddened, unquenchable heat of a flame sword, and he wanted it satisfied the best way he knew how. ...
Dawn rested on her elbows now, jacking off Rock Dawson with her right hand, and after a moment, she was also clasping Astor's prick with her left hand. She moaned and twitched, a slave to the maddening drubbings of the dog, and loving the feel of two human cocks in her fingers.
And that perfect scene of degenerate debauchery is what Stan came upon. His wife being fucked from the rear by a huge, black monster of a slavering dog ... while she masturbated the two sadistic voyeurs. Stan's mind was in complete shambles by the sickening sight of what his wife was engaged in. The bitch! In embittered hurt and anguish, Stan watched with stupefaction, incapable of action for it was too late.
Too late for anything, and Faith sucking his cock last week-the act which had started this lust-filled whirligig-meant nothing to him. Yet he knew now that the rendering of consequences which he had fostered by that act were endless, and he realized that the momentary joy cumming in Faith's mouth was not worth the price he was having to pay...
Then, as though his mind had to assuage his guilt somehow, Stan began to find the scene before him strangely enticing. It was so awful, so ghastly, that it was almost desirable. In spite of his thorough repudiation of what Dawn was doing, he could not tear his gaze from her, and like a magnet of sex, she and her cohorts made his cock harden into a granite signpost, pointing the way to their coven of perversion. Stan could hardly breathe. The sight made his brain burst with both nausea and craving, and he thought his body would split in two from the pulls of the different polarizations.
And as he stood awkwardly upon the beach, lost in their play of rampant abasement, he suddenly realized that he wanted her. Nay-he HAD to have her, had to join in the pillaging and rape and bestiality of his wife's passion contorted flesh, He wanted to rape her; yes, rape her for in doing so he would cleanse his mind of the shame and culpability he felt for being the causal seed of this horrible heinous corruption of her young innocence. And it would be rape, too, even if Dawn was wanting it. The obscene sight of her being fucked by Alexander while jacking off the two college boys had finally peaked his nerve-shattered mind to a lusting stage of no return, and his twitching penis bloated with anticipation.
It was overwhelming him! He leaped across the sand to his wife, holding his cock with the clenched fingers of his right hand as though it were some Excalibur sword going into battle. "Suck me," he groaned, "Do you hear me, darling? I want you to put my cock in your mouth and have you suck me!"
"YYYYYYeeeeeesssss," sighed she, her husband's lecherous command penetrating her almost insatiable brain, adding still more fuel of passion to her soul. "Yes, yes, darling! I have your cock in my mouth! Hurry!"
Just the lewd idea of sucking her husband while Alexander fucked her from behind and she masturbated the two young men beside her made Dawn's body stir with lewd delight. She could feel the pit of her thighs and stomach hot and moist, and a tingling thrill raced through her bones and marrow, making her jerk against the dog still harder. Yes, this is what I have al-ivays wanted. Stan, my loving Stan, and others as well ... all at the same time! The perfect combination of sex and love ... Oh. I thank my God above for being born so lucky!
Dawn looked upwards, seeing nothing except the highly erect, fully poised penis of her husband as it towered near her mouth. The moonlight played upon it, highlighting its ridges, and then Stan lowered himself to the sand, his quivering cock inches from her moistened lips, and to help her, he raised her head by the palm of his hand on her chin while he pressed the angry red head of his penis past her groveling lips. As if knowing what was happening in front of him, Alexander the Great gave an extra lunge forward, and by doing so, impaled Stan's thick penis in the wet, wonderfully warm recesses of her mouth. She felt his hugeness slither down her tongue and lodge against the back of her throat.
"Suck, baby,". Stan wheezed harshly, "suck!"
Stan looked down and all around him as he shoved his loins into his wife's contorted face. The salaciousness of the depraved sight caused him to jam his lust-hardened cock harder, and she sucked on it voraciously, her lips clinging grotesquely while Alexander fucked into her with his growing animal organ and she heaved her quivering white buttocks back toward it with wild tempoed fury.
He could feel her tongue softly swirling at the apex of his withdrawal, the tip flicking magically across the tiny split of his glans, and then he flexed his buttocks, his head still raised, watching the crown of her own head bobbing up and down below, as simultaneously she worked her ass in hungry undulating circles and Alexander hammered his long, swelling cock into her, and she pistoned the cocks in her hands with machine-like consistency.
It was a masterful sight, he thought, a blurred symphony of rapid sexual pummeling and manipulations.
Dawn sensed his throbbing reactions and began to suck his prick a little harder, the tips of her teeth digging gently in the hardened, resisting flesh, leaving small white trails where they had scraped the blood from beneath the skin's surface. She saw from the corner of her eyes the twitching, writhing bodies of Astor and Dawson, and she responded with instinct alone as she whipped their frothing genitals to new pinwheels of ecstasy. Oh god, she was the most blessed of women! With her husband's cock in her mouth and Alexander's trained penis pounding into her seething cunt.
The fury of the moment rose within Dawn as she tried to suck Stan's bloated penis with the great Doberman's rhythm fucking her from behind. Again and again Alexander slammed into her with hard long strokes, his massive cock caressing and pounding the smooth inner walls of her vagina, his blunt tip hammering his mark upon her cervix, pummeling harder as it jerked deeper into her. The beach and the lake were lit by strange colors, blinding and flashing before her, and mingling with the electricity shooting through her body.
Suddenly Alexander began to howl in a shrill, weird tone, and then Stan started to groan, sending vibrations of his impending climax through his hardened shaft, advising Dawn that it was time! The thought alone made her choke! Such perfect harmony, for she, too, was nearly there!
The two boys were the first to cum. Stan looked over at them, his own eyes mostly glazed by the heat of his building charge, and he saw both of them shoot their white sticky seed high in the air like two fountains gone mad. It burst up and out, Roman candles of lust, and then splashed around their bellies and groin. Strangled noises of their passion forced their way from their gullets. Stan moaned ... any minute ... any second now. ... He was, he was ... cummmmmmmmmiiiiiinnnnnnng!! ! ! !
He writhed his hips furiously. He seemed to be standing on his head. He watched as Dawn's lovely face worked, her lips straining, his prick soaring.
"NNNNNnnnnnnnnoooooowwww!" he cried in a long, sighing moan. He emitted a needle-thin stream of hot semen from his balls in a never-ending torrent into her throat, and she gulped greedily, swallowing and swallowing furiously to keep pace with his streaming load, and her hands left the ejaculated boys to milk his shaft for more love juice.
Dawn thrust her ass back at the panting brute's superbly expanded shaft buffeting into her inflamed orifice. Every muscle in her body contracted as she rose up and nearly to the side in an almost epileptic fit of concentration. She gulped and supped from her husband's jumping cock as her sphincter muscles clenched and opened like an angry fist. Her buttocks flexed to rock hardness as her orgasm hit. She gurgled a wailing scream deep in her chest as the power of her body unleashed at the moment she had been dying for.
There was no time, no space, no motion-only the unbelievable pleasure of her climax as she was hit again and again by the spasmodic rampages of her muscles ... then soon, all too soon, it passed, with the dog's wildly plunging cock jerking with its raining sperm. She screamed suddenly and shoved back upon the dog's blasting penis, and the giant animal's tongue hung from his mouth as he spurted hard into her womb like a fire hose gone insane. Saliva dripped from Alexander's dangling tongue to the coating of sweat on her back, and she contracted her round buttocks uncontrollably, signaling the orgiastic upheaval going on deep in her belly.
Stan stared in fascination as Dawn's cunt flowered with thick white cream as she milked and squeezed the dog, and the viscid liquid formed rivulets and ran down the backs of the ivory columns of her thighs to puddle in the sand. Her backsides glistened and then, exhausted, she fell forward on her face, and the rapidly deflating cock of the massive Doberman slipped from her ravaged cunt ... and a heavy black veil of unreality enshrouded her from the world around...
Dawn awoke after a bit, and after finding Stan, she joined in the ensuing frivolity with abandon. Every conceivable way of making love tried-by twos, threes, fours-with and without Alexander, who was indeed the Great. But somehow she never reached that peak of emotional catharsis for Dawn that she had experienced with Stan and the dog and the other two males. Finally, when she and Stan were almost too tired to stand, he bundled their clothes together and together they walked slowly up the trail to their car, where they fell into a deep and warm sleep on the back seat.
CHAPTER 9
The car was heavy with morning dew. Droplets ran down the windows and serpentine rivulets steamed on the metal body, the fast-rising sun evaporating them rapidly. Inside the car, Stan and Dawn stirred from their sleeping embrace. They stretched and yawned, and snuggled in one another's arms, then dozed fitfully until the sun had eaten away the protective coating of dew and streamed in to spotlight the lovers.
"Mmmmmm," Dawn murmured, running her hands lightly over the strongly muscled body of the man, "Mmmmmmmm, I love you, Stan."
Stan grinned languorously, like the Cheshire cat. He rolled on the narrow seat and clasped his wife to him and rubbed his pelvis in her crotch. She reached down and felt his cock, smiling at him as she noticed its tingling awakening.
"Double mmmmm," she said. Then they kissed, long and hard and passionate. His arms went about her and her magnificent breasts thrust against his chest and he could feel her body quivering. Their lips and tongues grew increasingly warm and searching and then she broke away with a choking sigh, her eyes swimming.
"God, I love you, Stan," she breathed huskily.
His hands traced the soft outlines of her neck and chin then slid down to feel the contours of one full, pointed breast. She began to tremble and she seized his hand and slid it lower until it was stroking the silky softness at the very quick of her being. She pulled his head down and kissed him hungrily, expertly, her breath coming quickly, her half-closed eyes gleaming in the morning light.
Stan felt her legs part beneath him on the seat cushion, felt the bone-hard tautness of his own body respond and his cock slide unerringly into the soft receptive cavern of her damp pussy. Her hands caressed and fondled him and her mouth melted against his in supplication and desire. Their bodies arched and flowed together, but not with the hot, plunging turbulence of the night before. ...
No, their coupling was slow and easy and warm, the perfect touch to a night of convulsive ecstasy. They were liberated upon a fleecy cloud of pleasantry, a lingering wave of shuddering desire. But then it grew as they approached fulfillment, and Stan's body stiffened and held. Dawn's fingers tightened convulsively, digging into his back. Their bodies seemed to become mindlessly welded together in one long, wonderfully savage moment of sublime, deep satisfaction.
They rested for a moment, drawing breath.
The moment of peace, as their different orgasmic juices melded and coagulated ... he kissed her tenderly on her eyelids.
"Darling ... darling," he whispered.
"I ... love you," she murmured vaguely, almost asleep again.
"When we came here yesterday, you asked me to remember something," Stan said softly in her ear. "You said to remember that you loved me and that when we made love afterwards, it would be the best because it would mean more ... and you were right, Dawn, my love, you were right."
"Yes ... yes..."
"For all the others, we are truly the only ones for each other."
She nodded and smiled broadly, her eyes still shut. "Last night was fun, Stan. I want to do it again. But that's all it was, fun; and there's nothing wrong with that."
Stan chuckled. "No, nothing at all. And when spring vacation is over and we're back at Abbington, we'll throw a couple of parties ourselves for the Club. Next term will be great, won't it?"
"And after that, there will be the summer, and all those hot, lazy nights under the moon and stars..." she squirmed provocatively under him, immersed in the lurid dreams. "And next year, Stan, won't next year be fun, too?"
He kissed her tenderly. "The new freshman class ... with all that tender, nubile cunt...." he groaned at the thought, "And the young bucks for you, Dawn, with their untested antlers, eager for the knowledge of higher education. You'll teach them, won't you dearest?"
"With pleasure," she sighed.
They collapsed in one another's arms, happy and contented in the new world they had discovered, ready to pass on their revelations with the fervency of missionaries to whomsoever sought the meaning of living.
Stan had an excellent career ahead of him at Abbington, one in which he would have ample opportunity to devote to the Jack and Jill Club. The influential men who would make or break his future were all members of this select group of free souls, and it was obvious that the Ballards had made a strong impression with their readiness and willingness to join in the extracurricular activities. Dawn looked up once, briefly, to smile at her husband, proud of his new position of respect within the scholarly community, and then contented and secure, she burrowed in his loving arms, at peace with the world and herself.
Stan and Dawn gently fell asleep again, together at last. As the Bible says of married couples, they were joined as one, in mind, in spirit, in flesh. And hopefully, what had been joined would never be put asunder by man.
