Jean Thompson pushed the light cotton dress from her shoulders and let it fall loosely to the floor at her feet. Clad now in only the flimsiest of brassieres and skimpiest panties, she looked up at herself in the long mirror above the dresser, her dark eyes roving narrowly over the lushly revealed curves of her body.
Naturally a brunette, she had required only a couple of trips to the swimming pool to develop what appeared to be a cultivated tan, and the rich brown hues of her flesh contrasted sharply with the white of the brassiere and bikini panties. The brassiere cups barely served to conceal the swollen brown buds of her nipples and the panties were so nearly transparent that she could clearly distinguish the dark silken curls of her pubic hair through the thin material. She stared at it for a moment, then lifted her gaze up the smooth plane of her belly back to her hardly concealed breasts. Then she shifted her attention to the reflection of the door as he heard her husband's footsteps in the hall, her hand moving at the same moment up behind her back to the snap of the revealing little garment.
A surge of anticipation, of almost desperate hope, coursed through the half-naked brunette as she heard the doorknob turn. She waited, catching her breath. As it eased open she returned her eyes to her own invitingly exposed flesh, deftly flicking the brassiere snap undone and shrugging her shoulders to let the straps slip off her arms. The flimsy garment fluttered away to free the two luxuriously contoured mounds of her breasts as Bill Thompson, clad in striped pajamas that had always reminded Jean of a chain-gang uniform, stepped through the door and stopped, his eyes widening slightly at the unexpected sight that greeted him.
The tall, respectacled man stopped, his mouth opening and slowly closing. Now almost completely naked, his sensual young wife waited, aware that his position just inside the door, in relation to the position of the mirror, afforded him a perfect view of both the front and the back of her almost totally exposed body. She looked at his eyes, trying to gauge her husband's response in them. He was looking at her, conscious of her inviting nakedness. His gaze seemed almost to bore into her soft brown skin. But from his expression she could not determine what he felt.
Then his eyes met hers in the mirror. She bit her lip as a little shiver darted down her spine. Her breathing was coming in hoarse strained gasps. Her full, upflung breasts rose and fell rhythmically. She stared into her husband's eyes, her own eyes almost watery, glossed over with desire. Then she cast her gaze downward. As yet not a word had passed between them, but had there been an onlooker it would have appeared she was conceeding defeat after an exchange that, however silent, was explicit and of a perfect communication. And as she looked down, her husband walked over to the bed and started to pull the covers carefully back.
"Bill . . . ?" The voluptuous brunette turned slowly, one hand unconsciously brushing over the tingling tips of her nipples as the thumb of the other danced down the smooth flesh of her lower belly to hook into the tight elastic waistband of her low-hanging panties.
"Yes, dear?" her husband answered, not looking up, standing now almost with his back to her beside the luxurious king-size bed.
"How . . . how do you feel?"
"All right. Tired," he said.
She bit her lip again and watched him get into the bed. Slowly she eased the panties down off the ripeness of her buttocks. As she moved toward the bed, he turned off the lamp.
Jean slid between the covers and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Then she rolled toward her husband, the smooth skin of her nakedly trembling body brushing against the rough material of his pajamas. He hadn't responded yet, had given her no sign that tonight would be any different from last night or the night before, but she still couldn't quell the little shiver of anticipation that tingled along her spine. Tonight it was going to happen. It had to happen because it hadn't in so long, and all day at work she'd been thinking about it. She'd decided. She was determined. Tonight she wasn't going to lie passively waiting, hoping against hope. Tonight if he didn't take the initiative, she would take it herself.
"Bill," the aroused brunette sighed, running her long fingernails down her husband's back on the outside of the pajamas. "Darling ..."
A little shudder coarsed through her as she inhaled his warm masculine scent, as she felt the delicious tingling begin down between her naked thighs. The young wife had the body of a movie starlet, firm and yet so voluptuous that men stopped to stare at her as she passed them on the street. But she tended to discount other men's reactions to her beauty and sensuality. Other men she didn't care about. It was her husband she loved, but he'd been so busy recently completing his Ph.D. thesis in biophysics that he paid little if any attention to her.
But tonight, she again reminded herself, it was going to be different. She would do whatever she had to to remind him of the way he used to feel about her, in the days when they were first married. Supporting him while he completed his studies wasn't easy for Jean, and she knew it wasn't easy for his ego either. She knew that he was preoccupied with his studies and she tried hard to be understanding about that. But she did have her needs, for sex and for tenderness. Some nights, even lying her with him beside her, she felt so lonely she could cry out.
"Bill, please," Jean said in a strained voice.
"What?"
"You know."
He sighed. She waited, breathlessly; then he turned over and put his arms around her. "All right ..." he said simply, and there was a catch in his voice Jean recognized. She felt a sudden fluttering in her loins, and although his voice had hardly been tender, she was in her present burning need more than willing to make do. She waited, feeling him scramble out of his pajamas, pushing the pants hurriedly down and struggling with the top. Then she blinked as he reached over to the nightstand and turned the lamp back on. When he looked back at her there was a steely look in his eyes she'd never seen before. And for a reason she couldn't quite comprehend he'd replaced his glasses. Then slowly he drew the sheet off her body, pulling it to the side so he remained covered. Smiling somewhat nervously, Jean leaned toward him.
"Lie back," he said, pushing her shoulder. "I want to look at you."
Jean reclined, stunned by his tone, a slight chill coming over her as she felt his eyes burning into her naked flesh. Secretly she was proud of her body, and she had loved the way Bill used to watch her undress before him. But something was different now. There was an unfamiliar coolness to his stare that was almost frightening. He was looking' at her as though to inspect her, as though she was a piece of meat, and she couldn't understand what was wrong between them. She couldn't seem to please him any more. It was as if the more she tried, the more contemptuous he became.
"Go on. Do as I say. Lie back and . . . spread out."
Nervously Jean complied, stretching her arms out and upward to arch the trembling swells of her breasts, parting her thighs to reveal to her husband's learing gaze the soft hair-lined lips of her cunt nestled secretly between them. There was something that seemed almost perverse about the inspection he was subjecting her too, and she was trembling slightly at the way his eyes roved over the naked curves of her body. But even her apprehension did nothing to temper the building excitement raging through her long-denied loins, and if this was what Bill needed to get excited, she was still willing to submit to the humiliation if in the end it would earn her the affection and sex she so desperately needed.
Then he let the sheet fall away from his muscular though slender torso, and as she waited in open surrender before him, he leaned slowly over her. With a low moan Jean tilted her head upward, arching her back from the bed to snuggle the silken curves of her voluptuous body closer to his male nakedness, quivering her round breasts hard against his chest as the chills of excitement coursed up and down her spine. As her husband's lips pressed against her open mouth she could feel her heart pounding wildly in her breast, a crazy dizziness spinning through her head as the almost unfamiliar taste of his mouth filled hers and she thrust her tongue lewdly up between his lips.
Oh God, she thought. If only everything could be all right between them again. And now the moment seemed there, almost ready to be captured. She could just about feel the resurgence of that secret warmth that had once existed between them and she threw herself body and soul into the kiss, feeling as though all her being were flowing into him with the sweet saliva of her mouth, struggling to hold onto the magic, to retrieve it from the past.
Her arms moved up around his neck, then he broke from her embrace and pushed her back down on the bed. "I want to look at you," he repeated.
Her breath coming in strained gasps, Jean sank back to the same surrendered, spread-eagled position on the bed. She didn't know what was happening. There was the strangest look in her husband's eyes now, and she found herself wondering if her insistance hadn't prompted the surfacing of some violent or even sadistic streak that had lain dormant in him until now, something dark and horrible instead of the love she wanted. And she couldn't help but recall that their last attempt at lovemaking had been a total failure, and that afterward she'd heard him muttering some of the filthiest words in the English language as he lay sleeping and dreaming beside her.
Every detail of his wife's sensuous nakedness was exposed to Bill Thompson's leering eyes from the dark long curls over her hair spilling softly over her naked shoulders to the matching dark curls of pubic hair and even the moistened slit of her little pussy nestled between the softness of her parted thighs. It had been a long time. He wasn't sure why, but he just hadn't been very interested in sex lately. It was something he couldn't really explain to himself, though he'd spent a lot of time analyzing it. And it wasn't just sex, it was a general coldness that only increased when she demanded the kind of response she was demanding now. But she was still a hell of a good looking woman, and now he did want her. He could feel his cock twitching toward an erection beneath the sheet and he thought that maybe that was just what he needed, a good hot piece of ass to clear his head.
Jean closed her eyes, waiting breathlessly. Conscious of a rustling, she opened them again and as her gaze descended she saw that the sheet had fallen away from her husband's loins and she was almost surprised to note that his cock was swollen to fully pulsing erection. My God, he was excited. He did love her! Or at least he did want her now!
"Ooooooooh darling," she sighed. "You do love me, don't you?"
Bill's only answer was a grunt. He didn't love her. He didn't love her right now, but he did need a woman, any woman, and driven by an almost animal instinct he dropped his hands to the ripely upthrust mounds of her breasts, grasping them firmly and squeezing the tender flesh between his fingers. He could feel her entire body squirming beneath him and now he was getting impatient to get into her, to feel the warmth of her tight little cunt closing around his hard-jerking penis.
"Softly, darling. Softly," Jean admonished, but now Bill ignored her, lost in his own fever-pitched carnal hunger, his hands continuing their rough pawing of the voluptuous naked mounds and the tightly swollen little nipples. And her sharp gasps of pain only prompted him to squeeze even tighter to the tingling little buds.
Still waiting spread-eagled on the bed, Jean choked back further protests, not daring to say anything that might turn Bill off. Then, hoping to entice him to get on with it, she began to slide one hand down between their straining bodies and along his thigh to grasp the throbbing shaft of his lust-hardened cock. She heard him groan as she squeezed it beneath her fingers, feeling it twitch to even greater rigidity. My God, she thought. It was big and hard. Tonight it seemed even bigger and harder than she had ever remembered it.
"Yeah," Bill grunted, the obvious tension in his voice convincing the aroused brunette that she had him where she wanted him. "That's it," he gasped, feeling his wife's fingers grip his blood-engorged penis even harder. Now his own hands moved down from her sore and reddened breasts, down along the fully rounded contours of her midriff and stomach, down between her thighs and into the softly moistened curls of hair. His distended middle finger found the pulsing little slit and he inserted it between the soft folds of flesh, shoving it forward in spite of the slight resistance, feeling Jean's whole body shudder beneath him.
"Oooooooooh!" she moaned out, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes tightly for a moment, then letting her breath escape in a long slow sigh as her body again relaxed. "Oh yes, yes. Yes, it feels so good."
She shifted her hips'slightly, pushing her entire body downward on the bed to take his stiff middle finger even higher up into the smooth sensitive warmth of her wet inner pussy flesh. She could feel his breathing now hot and heavy on her neck and she released his cock from her hand, again entwining both her arms up about his neck, pulling him over on top of her so she could feel the hardness of his naked cock prodding harshly into her naked belly as down between her thighs he began to stroke and tweak at the already lewdly swollen bud of her clitoris.
"Oooooooooh Bill!" she moaned.
"Ooooooooooh. Oh yes! Yes!"
Jean's legs flayed out wide apart as she tried to give her husband even greater and easier access to her naked loins, and she began to bump her hips up and down in a wildly sensuous rhythm in response to his maddening manipulations. The smooth flat plane of her belly quivered softly as his obscenely searching middle finger exposed the warm wet slit of her pussy, and her rib cage rose and fell heavily against his heavy chest, her nipples crushed like hard pebbles against him. Then he pressed another finger against the first, sliding it up into the warmly resisting opening of Jean's lust-seared pussy, worming it further and further upward past the softly enclosing ring.
"Aaaaagghhh!" she cried out aloud, screwing her whole body upward to meet the shocking probe of the two-fingered wedge now violating her loins. Tiny helpless mewls of pleasure sprang to her lips and her willing body writhed in frenzied desperation beneath the obscene assault to which he was subjecting her. She was ready. Bill was left with no further doubt about that. And he was too. He felt like he could fuck all night.
In spite of his initial reluctance, Bill couldn't remember when he'd felt so potent, when his cock had felt so hard and big and vicious. His original resentment at Jean for insisting on sex when he'd displayed no interest had channeled itself into lust when his body had begun naturally to respond. And now she was really driving him out of his mind. His desire swollen cock throbbed painfully and tiny drops of fluid were already gathering at the head so that it glistened wetly and moistened Jean's lewdly undulating belly as it dragged across her burning flesh. They were both ready. There was no use waiting any longer.
With a deep animal-like groan, the young student slid downward several inches on the bed, assuming a kneeling position between his voluptuous brunette wife's widely parted thighs. Still not withdrawing his rhythmically fucking fingers from her cunt he clasped his bobbing penis in the other hand and began to work the foreskin up and down in a lewd and obscene gesture. He pushed it all the way back from the head so that it gleamed out like a taut drum of flesh poised just at the entrance of Jean's wantonly palpitating little pussy opening.
Advised by the dull ache in his sperm-bloated balls that he'd better get it in without another second's delay, Bill lunged forward, drawing his fingers back to seize and guide the bloated hardness of his fully erected cock up into the pliant, hair-lined orifice.
"Oh! Oooooh!" Jean cried as she felt Bill's fingers leave her pussy with a lurid wet sucking noise. For a moment she held her whole body stiff from the stab of frustration; then a deep low sigh escaped her as where the fingers had been she felt the sudden promising pressure of Bill's rock-hard penis pushing against the entrance of her helplessly aroused vagina.
"Oh! Uuuggghhh!" she groaned from the sheer raw sensation of the unrelenting pressure against her most sensitive vaginal tightness. Then the resistance gave way and the entire quivering length of her husband's lust-engorged cock went sliding up into the moist furrow of her silken pussy. Bill moaned, surging gradually deeper into her, flicking his hips forward as he felt her hungrily yearning cunt squeezing tight against his erect cock as it shoved the resisting folds of cuntal flesh aside with a long steady thrust until he was embedded at last to the hilt up into her clasping vaginal warmth.
"Christ!" he gasped, his whole male body trembling upon the voluptuously naked female body writhing and squirming beneath him. In his aroused animal lust she was no longer the nagging wife to whom he'd grown so cold; she was just a woman, a piece of living flesh to be mauled and pawed, fucked and cast aside.
"Oh Bill, Bill," Jean purred in his ears, clasping her hands tight around his back, pulling, him down hard against her breasts and loins, stretching her thighs even wider apart and extending them upward to lock her ankles above his jerking buttocks. He grunted above her, finding it difficult to move at first because of the extreme tightness of her cunt. Then the delicate tissues began to accustom themselves to the invasion of his thick, lust-hardened maleness and the silken sheath of her pussy swallowed the entire length of the enormous phallus all the way up into her most sensitive and secret depths. She didn't think she'd ever taken him in her so deeply and the sheer sensation almost caused her to pass out. But she couldn't help but dream, far back in the recesses of her mind, that now everything was going to be all right, that this magic and shattering contact was the welding anew of the bond that once had existed between them.
"Oh, I love you ... I love you," she groaned out, her mouth panting open, her wet pink tongue protruding from between her voluptuous lips as she gave herself up entirely to the all-enveloping feeling of wholeness, relishing the devastating release promised by the violation of Bill's lustfully throbbing cock up into her pulsing loins. It was such a smooth fit up inside her belly that she couldn't imagine anything ever being wrong between them again. And now he was beginning to really fuck in and out of her, racking her quivering body with long even thrusts, burying his thick bulbous cock-head deeper and deeper with each savage slap of his loins. She could feel it beating all the way up against the sensitivity of her eagerly accepting cervix. Already she could feel stirrings of her approaching orgasm in her belly and loins, surging in chills over all her nakedly squirming flesh. She needed it. She needed it so badly. And now, after she'd gone so long without it, she was finally going to obtain her release. She was going to cum. She could feel it already, the obliterating promise of a shattering orgasm looming just in her path. It was coming, soon now, soon.
Bill felt his dark-haired young wife begin to buck up against him, heard her delirious chanting in his ears. He was deep inside the most intimate recesses of her vagina, so deep he felt as if he'd pinned her to the bed in this lewdly submissive posture. He was fucking her with sheer animal fury, all his anger and hostility welling up in raw, lust-inspired energy, and he seized her arms, holding her pinioned beneath him as he launched a shattering staccato assault, building and building until he was striking her furiously, his hard belly making a loud spanking sound each time he lunged down against her.
He kept it up, his nails digging into her wrists as he stretched her body out beneath him, feeling his frenzy build to a peak as the cum came suddenly welling up from his balls to pour forth in a great torrent from the jerking head of his cock buried far up into her spasming pussy softness, a great lava-hot stream that was pumped against her cervix and far up into her belly.
"UUUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHHH!" he groaned into her face as the overwhelming sensation of his orgasm traversed the length of his thickly pumping cock to send the little chills of delight dancing all over his nakedly fucking body. Again he pawed brutally at the softly quivering female flesh beneath him, feeling her honey-warm cunt accepting all he had to give her. Then, after a final violent outburst of shattering lunges, he slacked off and collapsed heavily upon her, releasing one long labored sigh from his throat and smelling her musky perfume drift up to his nostrils as he buried his head against her neck.
Beneath him, Jean waited. She lay stunned under his dead weight, gradually beginning to realize that he was finished. It was over and he was through, though for a few moments longer a part of her mind still refused to accept or believe. Then, hearing the beginning of the soft easy snoring, she sank back in utter defeat. He was asleep.
Bill was sated, satisfied, and now he had gone to sleep, his cock deflating within her as she languished in the frustration of unfulfillment. "Oh no," she whispered to herself. "Oh no!" Tears of bitterness and frustration welled in her eyes and spilled over, streaming down her cheeks and shining in the soft glow of the bed-side lamp. Then the bitterness became outright hostility and by the time she'd rolled him off her she was crying in earnest. The lewd wetness of her still warmly seeping cunt allowed the limp flesh of his cock to slip easily out of her, leaving her with only a vacuum-like feeling up where moments ago it had so violently surged and throbbed. Then she sank again onto her back, staring through tear-reddened eyes up at the ceiling. What had just happened was even worse than the previous weeks of denial. There could have been ways of psychologically explaining or even justifying his lack of sexual interest. But tonight he had been interested; he'd displayed a lust she'd seldom experienced during the whole two years of their marriage.
But it had been an impersonal, selfish lust. He'd merely used her as a receptacle for his cum, and he'd cared not in the least whether she shared his satisfaction and release.
Chapter Two
Bud Langford mixed the two drinks on the kitchen cabinet and turned back to the table where his sister sat shaking with sobs. He let his eyes dwell for a minute on Jean's swollen breasts pushing against her tight-fitting blouse, dropped them to her shapely thighs revealed by the split in her long loose skirt, then turned his gaze abruptly away, stepped forward and set one of the whiskies before her. A brother shouldn't be thinking the kind of thoughts he sometimes found himself thinking when he looked at Jean, he supposed, but he'd needed just that one long good look to satisfy himself once and for all that his brother-in-law was an out and out kook.
Jean accepted the drink gratefully and took an eager sip. She'd just finished reliving the entire awful scene that had taken place last night and the weeks that had lead up to it. She told it exactly as it had happened, and bringing it all back had put her in a state bordering on hysteria. Now the alcohol had a slight numbing effect on her and she drank rapidly, though it still wasn't quite strong enough to dull the pain that throbbed in her head. She was hardly conscious of her older brother's reaction to what she'd told him. Perhaps that wasn't even what concerned her. She'd just needed to get it out, and Bud was the one person she'd felt she could trust.
"Well, in my opinion he's a real prick," Bud said after a moment, settling back into the chair across from her.
Jean looked up, her lips turned in a pout, and wiped her eyes with a doubled fist. "Don't say that. He's got a lot on his mind. He's working very hard on his thesis and he's . . . he's engrossed in his experiments and . . . and he's ..."
"And he's using you and giving you nothing in return."
"He's not using me, Bud. That's what we agreed on when we decided to get married. That I would work until Bill finishes his studies and . . . and there's less than a year to go now."
"Big deal."
Jean cast her eyes downward. She knew the arrangement she'd just mentioned was something Bud had never approved of. He was so independent, and Bill was always willing to take help of almost any kind, and from whomever he could get it. While Bud had worked nights to get his degree in art history, which he now taught at City College, Bill had primarily made his way on loans and grants and, now, on Jean's salary at the registrar's office. It was almost frightening for her to think of the debts that would have to be paid off once his studies were completed and the loans he'd been taking out over the last six or seven years started coming due. Though they'd never talked about it she realized that even after he did have the kind of high-paying position he would be able to get on the basis of his degree, she would probably still have to keep her job for some time.
"So what are you going to do?" Bud asked to interrupt her thoughts.
"Do?" She looked up as though utterly confused by the question.
"Yes, do."
"I hadn't thought of doing anything. I just wanted to get it off my chest. But. . . "
"But what?" Bud asked.
"Maybe there is something I should do. Maybe it's something about. . . about me that's causing the trouble."
"Don't be silly. That's nonsense." He paused, looking straight into Jean's big black eyes glossed with tears. He licked his lips slowly. "But then not completely."
It was as if something had caught in her throat and for a moment Jean couldn't even speak. When the words did finally come out her voice was strained, quivering and almost faltering. "W-what do you mean?"
"The bastard resents you, probably, because he's dependent on you. It's sort of . . . making yourself too available. Here you go along working your butt off for him all day, cooking for him when you come home in the evening, then just waiting for him. You're there like a puppy, ready to fulfill his every need. You're negating yourself and therefore your own worth. You feel it and, eventually, he begins to feel it. And, of course, the whole syndrome is complicated by the fact that it helps him conceal his own feelings of guilt from himself."
"But what can I do?"
"Get away from him for a while. Give him a chance to miss you."
"But if ... if I get away from him now, while we're having all this trouble, he might find himself glad to have me gone. Then ..."
"Then you would discover that you were wasting your time in the first place. If that's the case, and I'm afraid it won't be, then you really did have nothing at all to lose. Listen. I've got an idea."
"What?" said Jean, looking at her tall, ruggishly handsome brother suspiciously.
"Ever hear of a man named Harry Smith?"
"Harry Smith?" In spite of everything, or perhaps because of it, Jean giggled, as if the giggle were an escape mechanism from her general somber mood. "There must be thousands of Harry Smiths in the world, but I haven't heard of any of them."
"Well, this one is the important one. He's into construction, and he's very rich, somewhat eccentric, and one of the most important art collectors in the country. I met him because he's interested in the work of one of my students, one of those rare finds an art teacher waits his whole life for. He's got a ranch up near Shasta and he wanted to have me and Lyda up there with him and his wife for Thanksgiving." "Lyda?"
Bud grinned. "That's right. I guess you haven't met Lyda. She's blonde, a freshman who thinks she's going to get her degree in political science. My newest live-in housekeeper."
Jean blushed, knowing all too well what her brother really meant by that.
"Anyway, I'd accepted, but Lyda was getting into a feud with her parents down in Southern California about not planning to be home for the holidays. So I told her to forget it. I was going to call Smith and tell him we had to cancel out, but now you can go in her place."
Jean shook her head. For a reason she couldn't grasp herself, her heart was pounding almost furiously. She'd just had the craziest thought: That Bud meant to present her as his "live-in housekeeper", as he called it. But, of course, he hadn't meant that at all. He just meant that it would be naturally awkward for him to visit a couple without a companion of his own. She didn't know why that other idea had ever popped into her mind.
"Well, whatta you say?"
"No. Thanks, Bud. Really. But I just couldn't."
"Why not?"
"I just don't want to go away for the holidays. I was looking forward to them as a chance ... to spend some time with Bill." Hearing herself say that, after the story she'd just told her brother, she realized how hopeless her dream was. She'd actually been looking forward to the holidays in the hope that if she had some free time, she could really devote herself to the task of straightening out things between her and her husband. "Well," she added after a moment. "I have to try. I do have to try."
"You're trying the wrong way."
Stubbornly Jean set her chin. "I'm not leaving him yet. Not even for a few days."
Bill Thompson looked up with unconcealed irritation, marking the place where he'd left off in the book he'd been reading as he glared at his dark-haired wife standing in the door of his study.
"What is it?" he said after a moment.
Jean bit her lip. Her eyes had been cast down; now she lifted them slowly, almost fearfully. "I have to talk to you."
"Jean, we'll talk later. I'm working."
"You're not working. You're studying. I'm the one who's been working all day." She bit her lip again, regretting immediately that she'd said that. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."
Bill pitched the text book into the air. It landed with a bang on the floor. He sat, staring down at it, shaking his head. It looked as if he were almost laughing.
"It's about last night," she said. "I've got to talk to you."
"Last night? Last night I gave you what you've been begging the last three weeks for. Don't you remember?"
Jean hesitated, then went on with determination. "You didn't give me what I've been begging for. You fucked me like I was a dishrag." She paused, shocked at hearing herself say that word, a word she'd never used except occasionally under her breath in absolute privacy. But how else could what Bill had done to her last night be termed? "But you didn't give me what I wanted, which is love and . . . and satisfaction. I didn't have an orgasm."
"Is it my fault if you can't cum? Go to hell."
"But you didn't even care. "
"What the hell do you want me to do, apologize?"
"I don't think ... I don't think you love me anymore," Jean stammered.
Bill stared at her in silence for a moment, then leaned over and retrieved the book from the floor. "You're putting too much pressure on me. You're on me all the time. I can't even think. And I'll guarantee you if you don't lay off I'm going to blow up."
"I'm the one who's going to blow up," Jean said almost calmly. She turned and stepped out of the room, closing the door gently behind herself. She paused for a moment, then walked down the hall and picked up the telephone. She dialed her brother's number.
"Hello," a lusty female voice answered after the second ring.
"I'd like to speak to Bud, please," Jean said, then quickly added: "I'm his sister."
"Oh. Yes. Just a minute."
"Hello, kid," Bud said after he got to the phone. "What's up now?"
"Can I change my mind. You're right. I do have to get away from him for a while."
"Then it's all set. I'll pick you up at the registar's office at noon Wednesday."
Chapter Three
On the drive up through north-central California, Jean couldn't help but wonder if she'd made the right choice by accepting her brother's invitation. She'd done it on an impulse and during the several days that followed she'd had second thoughts. But Bud absolutely refused to consider letting her change her mind. As for Bill, he'd thrown a tantrum when she'd first told him, but she dared not use this as an excuse to start getting her hopes up about any change in his attitude. His anger seemed to have been on general principle, and, worse, after he got accustomed to the idea of her trip he'd seemed actually to look forward to seeing her go. And now, as they wound through the redwood forests, Jean had the feeling that the die had been cast, and that she had lost.
The Smith place proved to be a sprawling ranch style house shaded by the kind of towering redwoods that are usually seen only on park land that has never been timbered, and flanked by a long kidney-shaped pool. Set back behind it was a smaller house, like a log cabin, which appeared to be some kind servants' quarters, and beyond that a stable. Parked before the garage was a Cadillac, a Jeep and a small sports-car.
Bud pulled to a stop behind the jeep and the front door of the house opened. A tall woman of about forty emerged, elegant looking even in the tight shorts and halter she wore, whose very suntan seemed a refelction of wealth and luxurious living.
"I'm Dolores Dmith. Harry took one of the horses out but he should be back soon. You all come on in and we'll have some refreshments and start getting acquainted."
Bud took a good hard look at Harry Smith's wife, and she took a good look back at him. She was even better than he would have expected. If he wasn't completely mistaken about what Smith had had in the back of his mind when he'd first invited him and Lyda to come up for the holidays, then this could prove to be a very interesting weekend indeed.
"So," the slender woman said as Bud and Jean reached the porch. "You're Bud and you must be Lyda? Or are you?" she added, looking at Jean with a slight frown.
"Lyda couldn't make it," Bud said. "This is ... "
"Have I committed a faux-pas?" the woman asked.
"No. It's all right. This is my sister Jean."
"Hello, Jean," said Dolores Smith, taking her hand. "I suppose this entails another bedroom. I'll have Sylvia get that ready for you, Bud. In the meantime 111 show you to yours, Jean."
Bud chose to take his drink on the terrace beside the pool while Dolores Smith escorted his sister inside. He settled into a reclining chair, leaned back and had almost closed his eyes when the door opened and a tiny, doll-like girl with red hair and one of the most fantastic sets of breasts he'd ever seen emerged with a tray of drinks. Bud sat up straight, openly staring before he caught himself and looked away.
"Hello. I'm Sylvia," the girl said. As she bent over to place the tray of drinks down on the low table her breasts almost fell out of the low-necked sleeveless blouse she wore.
"I'm . . . uh . . . Bud," Bud managed. "I thought Harry said your girl was blonde?"
"She couldn't make it. That's my sister."
Sylvia had straightened up slowly and now she looked at him with a mysterious smile. "I was beginning to wonder. Dolores told me to fix a separate room."
"Yes. That's because she's ... uh ... my sister." Bud hurriedly sipped his drink.
"I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting holiday. Anyway, if you get any free time, drop around. I live out back, in the cabin." She turned her head sharply. "There comes Harry."
Looking around, Bud saw the man on horseback approaching. Then he turned back to the tiny, big-breasted redhead. "What did you mean by that?"
"Use your imagination." She smiled, her blue eyes descending for a moment toward the crotch of his trousers, slightly tented by his stirring cock. "I've got to get your bedroom ready. Bye now."
Jean smiled. She felt the way she looked, or must have looked with such a smile silly, child-like. She wiped it away. That, she felt, must have looked like the wiping of a smile off a caricature drawn in chalk on a blackboard. Then she smiled again, the same way. It seemed funny the way everything was so blurred, but then she supposed she had had quite a lot to drink. The dinner table had been cleared away and Jean could feel that wonderful glow that the expertly prepared foods and vintage wines had created in her system.
At this moment all seemed truly well with the world. Dolores Smith was the sweetest woman she had ever met, she'd decided, and her husband Harry was a real dream. He was a real dream. Somehow it seemed he was exactly everything that his name did not connote. At about fifty he was tall and slim with a mature handsome face and distinguished graying temples. His manners were impeccable and charm seemed second nature to him. He was the kind of man who would look rich, or aristocratic, even if he didn't have a dime to his name. And she felt that this dream of a man had taken immediately to her, though she couldn't imagine why he would ever be interested in someone like herself when he had a wife like Dolores - though of course his interest wasn't that kind of interest at all.
Jean cradled the after-dinner liqueur in her hands, twenty-five year old cognac, Harry had explained, with a warm aftertaste and an effect on her head that the voluptuous brunette found at once soothing and stimulating. Dipping her tongue into the glass became a lovely game that she played with herself while Harry and Bud talked art and Dolores merely listened and looked lovely. Then, at Dolores's suggestion, they got up from the dining table and moved into the adjoining, plushly furnished living room. Dolores sat down with Bud on the luxurious velvet sofa and Jean settled herself on what she would later recognize as a loveseat. Harry, wearing an open shirt and an ascot, remained standing for the moment. Occupying herself with studying the man's poise, Jean thought of what a nice father image he was. Then for some reason she thought of her husband Bill, of the terrible argument that had prompted her to decide to come up here with her brother, then of the awful night that had been the cause of that argument. Then she decided to put the whole affair out of her mind, and was surprised how easy, with the help of the cognac, that proved to be.
Then she realized that she had been staring at Harry Smith, realized that he had been staring back at her. Now she looked quickly away and when she looked back he was walking toward her. He was still looking at her, and something in his eyes caused the funniest feeling to run up and down her spine. It must be nerves, she told herself, but it was a trifle unsettling.
"Feeling all right?" he asked, sitting down next to her. It was at that moment she realized she'd chosen the loveseat. Something about it made her almost giggle aloud. "What's the matter?" Harry asked, rolling his brandy glass in his hand before taking a deep drink from it.
"Nothing. I just thought of something funny."
"Like what?"
"Like ... oh nothing, Mr. Smith."
"Harry," he said, a gentle smile playing on his lips. He drank again. "Aaaahhh . . . now that's good. Can I get you another?"
"Oh, I'd love another," Jean heard herself saying and wondered why she'd said it, since she'd mentally resolved that the lone after-dinner drink would be her last. She felt woozy already and she wondered how that drink would affect her on top of the wine and the pre-dinner cocktails she'd imbibed. But when Harry returned with her filled glass and resumed his place beside her, she was surprised to find that the added sips of alcohol seemed to make her more alert, at least for the moment. She tried to launch into a conversation about art with the well-known collector, though she really didn't know that much about the subject. And though she thought she must be an absolute bore, Harry was extremely patient and seemingly actually interested in what she had to say.
Continuing to sip the cognac much faster than she should have, Jean found herself taking the liberty of slipping off her high-heel shoes and curling her stockinged legs up on the couch seat, tucking them beneath her so that her softly clinging dinner dress fell over them. The feel of them beneath her soft, panty-covered buttocks gave her a curious sense of well-being, and she found herself experimenting with the secret sensations she could derive from the slightest flexing of her thigh muscles. At first she felt a little funny about doing it but then, the alcohol suddenly making her dizzy again, she decided there was nothing wrong with it. No one else could tell that she was doing it. And it was fun.
Jean noticed that Bud and Dolores Smith were rising and going out of the room, to the terrace she supposed. But she quickly forgot about them as Harry launched into an anecdote about a group of impressionist painters who lived in Paris around the turn of the century, a couple of whom even she had heard of. She listened intently, while continuing to set off the delicious little sensations in her loins by tensing and untensing her leg muscles agains the cushioning mounds of her buttocks, even going so far as to let the heel of her bare, tucked-under foot sink up between the twin mounds of silk-covered flesh. She was doing it almost unconsciously, and every now and then she would rock forward a bit to better hear some detail of Harry Smith's story, causing an even greater pressure and more titillating pulsing far up in her tingling pussy.
Once or twice she tried to tell herself how sorry she was to be away from Bill, but she knew she wasn't really sorry. Right now she felt wonderful. She didn't even think she would want to have her husband around, or to be back home with him, though she knew she would probably feel differently when bedtime came and she found herself faced with sleeping alone.
"More?" Harry was leaning toward her. She hadn't even noticed that he was standing up. His handsome, smooth-shaven face seemed very close to hers, and she could smell the cologne he was wearing. She nodded in the affirmative and tried to focus her eyes on him, to see the expression on his face, and then suddenly everything seemed to go crazy. He was kissing her, his hands gripping her soft shoulder, his lips and tongue forcing her mouth wide open, pushing her head backwards with the grinding of his mouth against hers, setting her entire body to quaking with surprise and an unbelievable strong sensation of desire. It was so acute that it was almost painful. Her loins seemed to be on fire. Her mouth was the receptacle for his tongue, imparting the flames of desire rolling over her shuddering flesh. Her breasts were being fondled, softly, lovingly, and were aching for more and more of it. Her entire body seemed to be crying out. Yes, she thought, yes, this is what I need. Yes.
She found herself unfolding from her sitting position. She wanted her legs open, willingly spread and held high. There was a deep soft spot up between them that was hungry for the fingers she felt creeping along her thigh. His mouth was still on hers and soft cries stuck in her throat, becoming tiny grunts of bewilderment as the combined effects of frustration and heady liquors coursed heavily through her veins. And she knew it, she thought then. Something was going to happen. It had to happen. She wanted him so badly and it seemed as if always, always she had.
"Jean," he said. "Jean. You're a good kid, and you want it. And most of all, you need it." His fingers were almost there now, far up under her short dinner dress. They touched softly at the top of her stockings where her flesh was bare and soft and the panties seemed to be waiting for the flick of his long manicured middle finger against the elastic crotchband. Her rumpled dress was up around her hip and he was kneeling before her now on the rug and she was reclining alowly backward on the loveseat.
"Now, just lie back," he said. "Let me do everything."
Yes, Jean almost said, relaxing dreamily for a moment before she suddenly stiffened and opened her eyes. "No! Oh God, no, what am I thinking about?" As Harry Smith drew back in surprise, Jean scrambled awkwardly to a sitting postion, then stood up. She waited, frozen almost in fright before him for a moment. "Oh no ... " she gasped. "I'm sorry. I'm . . . I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking about. I must have had too much to drink."
Jean waited but a moment longer, then turned and fled from the room and out into the hall. Blindly she stumbled down it, wondering vaguely what had become of Bud and Dolores but knowing that wherever they had gone now, she didn't want to face them. She didn't want to face anybody now. She had almost really ruined everything. She'd never been unfaithful to Bill and she knew that if she'd let Harry Smith's probing fingers get any closer to her warmly burning vagina, she would have been unable to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to her. And then, with that on her conscience, what hope would she ever have had of patching things up with Bill?
Then, finding herself at the door of the bedroom where she was to sleep, Jean stopped. She paused for a moment, leaning against it, before she opened it and stepped inside. She was through for the night. She didn't dare go out until she'd slept off the state of drunkeness that had almost caused her to make a mistake she would surely have regretted for the rest of her life.
Chapter Four
"I've got an errand to run," said Dolores Smith, touching Bud on the arm. "I'll rejoin you inside in the den in just a few minutes. Fix yourself another drink and put on some music if you like. Something soft and . . . romantic."
Bud looked at the woman's flashing green eyes, at her sculptured face framed in long sandy hair, set off by the necklace of sparkling diamonds that made a little glimmering half-circle below it. "All right," he said, nodding faintly.
She smiled and turned and walked slowly away, her buttocks flexing sensuously against the loosely falling material of her long gown. Well, it looked like Bud had hit the nail on the head! There'd been something in Harry Smith's eyes that afternoon at the art building when Lyda had dropped around. Then, just after she left, he'd extended the invitation for Bud and his girlfriend to spend the Thanksgiving weekend with him and his wife. Bud had had the feeling, and everything was pointing toward the fact that his feeling was right.
The Smiths had naturally separated since his arrival with Jean. Dolores had latched onto him and he had little doubt as to what Harry had in mind for his sexy sister. And he still didn't feel quite right about his own interference. Because bringing her up here and subjecting her to the temptation to be unfaithful to that prick of a husband, allowing her to be tanked up on alcohol the way Harry had been doing when they'd left the living room, then leaving her conveniently alone with him - it was outright interference in her private, married life. But he would have felt even worse about doing nothing at all. And besides helping his sister, it looked as if he was going to have a very good time himself!
Bud shrugged, turned away from the pool and walked through the door into the den. He poured a glass of whiskey at the bar, went over and threw the reject button on the record turntable. The slow, soft, romantic record Dolores had requested had been there, waiting for him.
"Notice anything different?"
Hearing the woman's lusty, bedroom voice behind him, Bud slowly turned. Did he notice anything different? She'd changed into a soft silken peignoir, hanging open in a long split from the top of one of her thighs, cut low to almost completely reveal her breasts standing up firm and proud in spite of her age. She seemed to come floating toward him in the soft lighting. That, he thought, had also been waiting, prepared. Then she took the drink from his hand, took a short sip of it, her eyes all the while mysteriously regarding his face. She set the glass down on the table beside the turntable, settled warmly into his arms and began to dance him across the floor. Then, reaching the large studio couch, she drew him down on it beside her. The posture she assumed caused the hem of her gown to work far up her slender, well-formed thighs. She smiled, looking directly down at the crotch of his trousers, now swelled up from the almost full erection of his pulsing cock. "I really like you, Bud," she said in the same lusty voice.
"I knew I was going to like you the minute I saw you."
"Thanks," he said, feeling strangely off-balance, though nothing of what was happening was really that unexpected. "I like you too."
"I'm glad," she said. Her smile broadened slightly, and with just the most subtle shift of her position she let the split of the gown widen until he could see the soft nakedness of her lightly covered pubic mound nestled between her almost completely exposed thighs.
"I guess ..." Bud began.
"You guess what?" she asked, reaching up to place the palm of her hand on his cheek.
"I guess I know where your husband is."
She smiled again. "You know where he wants to be, anyway. Do you have any objections?"
Bud paused just a moment, as a matter of punctuation, before he shook his head. Then again his eyes descended toward the shocking exposure of her cunt in the split of her gown, and as he watched she drew her thighs slowly apart, revealing to his hungry eyes the little pink hair-lined slit where he could just glimpse the few tiny drops of moisture glistening among the curling blonde strands. Then she reached up to loosen the front of her robe, pulling the lacy material apart to reveal the large full mounds of her breasts, ripe and full like big melons with ruby red nipples that seemed to be staring back at him.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, watching her push the robe from her shoulders to let it fall completely away.
"Do you think I'm too old?" she asked, almost teasingly, he thought.
"No."
"Neither are you," she replied, ruffling her fingers through his hair and around to the back of his neck, causing goosebumps to form on his skin. "You're just a boy, almost. Or you seem like one to me. How old are you?"
"Sixty-seven," said Bud. Then he leaned over to kiss her lightly on the lips, hoping to silence her chatter. But at the contact with her warm, willing mouth, he couldn't pull away. Feeling her hungry response, he leaned in again, pressing his lips tightly against hers as the older but still sensuous woman curled her arms around him and pulled him down upon her. As she reclined on her back on the couch, one of his trousered legs fell lightly between her nakedly open thighs. He lay there briefly, as though glued to her, feeling her begin to move her softly supple thighs up against the already full throbbing hardness of his cock. It was straining almost painfully against his trousers and he could feel the wetness from the seminal fluid seeping out onto the smooth rubbery tip.
Dolores continued to massage his penis with her trembling thighs and softly-haired pussy mound until he thought he would literally explode. The slightest pressure seemed as if it would be enough to make him cum, and in spite of the heavy weight of sperm building up steadily in his testicles he didn't want that. He was determined not only to fuck Dolores Smith, but to fuck her well, and he was eager to get inside her as soon as possible.
Bud thrust his tongue deep into her warmly sucking mouth, feeling her taking tiny nibbles on it with her teeth. Then he raised his head up, staring in almost leering triumph at the woman spread out beneath him on the couch.
"Take off your clothes," she purred through gritted teeth.
He lay still for a moment on the couch, his hands moving up to cup her naked breasts. Then he sat up and began to unbutton his shirt.
"Are you going to fuck me good?" she asked as he slithered out of his trousers and let them fall at a heap on the floor beside the couch. He stood and turned to stare down at her with lust-glazed eyes. His big, blood-filled cock stood out in hard naked erection in front of him, bobbing up and down slightly with his breathing. He still hadn't answered her question. The doing would be the answering, and it seemed she sensed this because suddenly her face assumed an expression even more desperate and her eyes focused eagerly on the throbbing rock-hard pole of his cock, glossing as if she were mesmerized by its size and stiffness. "Oh God," she moaned. "What are you waiting for. Come on. Come to me."
He lay back down beside her, pulling her into the circle of his bare arms, pressing his young body tightly against the softness of her breasts, the warmth of her belly, the silken skin of her naked thighs. He began to move his hands over her flesh, sliding them down her back to cup the creamy smoothness of her buttocks, feeling her growing even warmer against him as she locked her lips once more to her mouth and searched with her hand to find and clasp the straining shaft of the lust-inflamed hardness of his cock. She began to work her hand up and down, the friction along the hard rod of flesh almost driving him out of his mind. She crushed the full length of her naked body up against him and ground her straining pelvis tightly into his desire tormented loins, pulling at him and rocking him against her until at last he rolled willingly over on top of her, his muscular buttocks and pelvis settling down between her wide-splayed thighs.
Harry Smith lifted the small gold-framed mirror from its place on the living room wall. Before him was a glass window, actually a whorehouse two-way mirror looking in on the den where the two naked bodies writhed on the couch. For that matter, the mirror he'd just removed was also of the same nature. Funny he thought: never in all the times he'd removed one or the other of the mirrors to eavesdrop on what was going on in the other room had he ever found himself looking into the face of another voyeur.
He chuckled softly to himself and focused his attention on the couch. It was a poor second to throwing a good fuck to Bud Langford's sexy sister, but it was better than nothing. Christ, he thought. If he'd been interested in getting that young blonde Bud was living with, that was nothing compared to the joy he would derive from ramming his oversized cock into that voluptuous brunette's tight little cunt. And he'd almost been there, he'd almost touched her sweet little pussy and he knew that if he had he would have been able to push her past the point of no return.
"Well," he said to himself, "Maybe I'll have better luck tomorrow." And anyway, he could always have a piece of his wife after she was finished with Bud. Resigned to the fate of the gods who'd declared he wouldn't make it With Jean Thompson tonight, he returned his attention to the slender forty year old he'd selected to be his helpmate for life. It always excited him to watch his wife fucking someone else, and he reached into the space between the two walls to flick on the microphones that would transmit to him all the sounds of the spectacle before him.
Now Dolores was crushing Bud down tightly upon her nakedly writhing body, her hands running eagerly over his muscular flesh. "God, you feel good," she whispered, arching her hips upward to push against the hardness of his lustfully reposing member where it prodded against her naked belly. He moved his hands up underneath her, raising her body up a bit, feeling her begin to undulate against him in a slow sensuous rhythm. He was conscious of the tenseness inside her that indicated to him that she was actually a very strong woman beneath her soft exterior, and the thought of how that strength would be manifest in a few moments when they began really fucking made his cock jerk impatiently against her flesh.
"Mmmmmmmm ..." she sighed in his ear as he began moving slowly up and down, sliding the big wet tip of his cock across the thin hair-lined lips of the woman's hotly quivering pussy, insinuating the bulging hardness up and down the length of the widespread split between her thighs. He could feel it grow wetter with each passing moment, and Dolores seemed to be slowly spreading her legs even wider out to the sides as though in consenting invitation to the obscene entry he threatened at any moment to make.
"Don't wait," she suddenly moaned, bucking her loins up even harder against him. "Don't wait any more, lover. Fuck me! FUCK ME NOW!"
Bud couldn't have held back if he wanted to. He flicked his hips forward as she simultaneously lifted her naked body to meet him. The bloated tip of his penis found again the desire-moistened lips of her cunt, and as he groaned and thrust forward, the palpitating shaft surged in relentless fury straight up into the warmth and , softness of her trembling inner pussy walls.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!" she moaned i beneath him as her cuntal flesh slipped wetly over the sensitive naked pole of his penis. The thick blood-filled head had ruthlessly parted the silken hair of her pussy and now the length of his lust-swollen penis moved with pulsating swiftness up and up into her narrowly channeled vagina. It raced through the tightly clinging flesh, filling the depths of her trembling belly, filling her willing cunt until it smacked against the smooth cushiony tip of her cervix to prompt a soft wail of joy from Dolores's lips. She moaned, flailing her blonde head from side to side, her fingers dancing madly over Bud's laboring back as he flexed himself up in her most private inner cuntal warmth.
Pinned beneath him on the couch, Dolores had no escape. If she moved even the tiniest bit it prompted another of the almost unbearable flexes of his engorged organ, and realizing that at least until she accustomed herself he was almost too big for her, Bud felt a surge of triumph and power. She had asked him if he was going to fuck her good. And already, though he'd hardly begun, he sensed that she knew the answer. To drive it home, he ground his pelvis down into the moist nakedness of her flesh, surging even deeper inside her, feeling her stiffen for a moment beneath him before she heaved out a strained sigh and let her pussy flower open still farther as he began a rhythmic in and out fucking motion.
Already Bud could feel his rigid aching cock growing and expanding even more up inside the older woman's pulsing cunt. He felt almost as if he were going to really rip her apart and with each slap of his testicles down between her squirming ass-cheeks he felt an exquisite tenseness and excitement building beneath him, he increased his strokes, drawing his cock almost all the way out and ramming it even more swiftly back in, wracking her with his lunging fury.
Dolores lifted her thighs, locking them above Bud's laboring buttocks, gurgling unrecognizable statements from her throat as if she were a blabbering idiot or had lost her mind. She had no control any more. He knew she was near the end and he continued to fuck in and out of her with all the strength he could muster, exerting every ounce of control he possessed to keep himself from shooting off before she was really ready to climax with him.
"Oooh. Oh yes! Harder, harder," the aroused woman chanted in his ears, her heels drumming on his naked buttocks. Then she stiffened again, her body arching against him, seeming to uncoil like a striking snake, her legs scissoring open and closed, her pubis pounding against his in a slapping frenzy as she offered the full flat opening of her up-raised vaginal passage to the lewd assault she had prompted him to launch.
Then, with a cock-stirring whine, she let herself go completely. "I'M CUMMMMMMM-IIINNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG!!!" she wailed, beginning an uninhibited dance of ecstasy, straining and squirming in furious abandon as the tumultuous waves of climax rolled over her.
Screwing herself up in an almost impossible position, she accepted the flood of Bud's sperm exploding into her spasming pussy and all the way up to her frantically climaxing belly as he felt the aching throb of his balls easing as the overwhelming flood of sensation gripped him and sent him thudding into her with an even harder crashing of their naked bodies. He rammed into her with a final series of rapid staccato thrusts, wracking her body as she moaned and wailed and finally collapsed in temporary exhaustion beneath him, continuing to pump drop after drop of his hot searing cum far up into the quivering tightness of her cunt.
Then at last he slacked off, sagging down heavily upon her. "God, that was good," he gasped.
"Well, don't go to sleep, young man," Dolores said with a strained voice. "You're not through yet, I hope."
Bud frowned, then grinned. "Not if you aren't. Give me about a minute to get hard again. But the second one might take all night."
Fuck this shit, thought Harry Smith. Usually after one romp Dolores was ready to come home to daddy, but it looked like tonight was going to be different. Sylvia was in luck, it seemed.
Chapter Five
Jean woke with a start. Last night flooded into her memory like a half-remembered dream, and as she lay naked beneath the sheets on the luxurious bed in the luxurious bedroom Dolores Smith had put her in, she could hardly believe that what she remembered was really what had happened. But deep down inside she knew it was true. Harry Smith had tried to seduce her. Or at least he had made a pass at her. And during those few minutes before she'd come to her senses it must have seemed to him that she almost welcomed him in his obscene advance.
Stunned, she let herself remember, and as it all came back to her, she felt a resurgence of those same feelings she'd experienced last night, a blinding desire that filled the entire area of her loins, now in her hungover state a dull gnawing need that almost drove her out of her mind.
Then she turned her face to the pillow, sobbing with shame for what she felt and what last night she'd almost allowed to happen. Then she got up and showered, feeling a slight trembling in her legs and soft stomach as she stood beneath the jets of water, almost unable to resist caressing and stroking over her naked genitals as she scrubbed herself with the washcloth and soap. My God, she thought, how was she going to face Harry Smith after what had happened, not to mention his wife? And not to mention her brother? She couldn't imagine what Bud might do if he knew about the older man's depraved advance, and it took her only a moment to rule out the possibility that she should tell her brother what had happened. And then there was Bill. My God, she'd come so close, come so close to losing him forever.
But gradually, comforted by the pleasantness of the warm shower, Jean began to pull herself together. After all, she rationalized, nothing had really happened. She had come to her senses in time. It was just one of those little foul-ups that occur when someone has had too mucli to drink.
And certainly she'd had too much, as Harry Smith himself must have had far too much as well. Perhaps he wouldn't even remember it, she told herself as she stepped from the shower and started to dry herself off. By the time she was dressed, she'd decided to forget the whole matter, or at least to pretend that it hadn't happened. It was Thanksgiving. She would have a good Thanksgiving dinner with her brother and the Smiths, and she would not drink. And one way of looking at it, she really did have very much to be thankful for today. Compared to what might have happened if she'd let Mr. Smith go just a little farther, what had occurred seemed almost inconsequential.
Bud Langford swallowed the last bite of pumpkin pie and leaned back from the table. It had been a hell of a good meal, he thought. In fact, it had been a hell of a good day all around from his own point of view, he thought. He'd slept late in the morning, though not as late as his sister. He'd had a good swim after lunch then a good long talk about art with Harry Smith, a talk in which his host was completely casual, making absolutely no reference at all to what had happened the previous evening. At a little after five, Dolores had lured him into her bedroom for a session almost as frenzied as last night's. Just what was needed to whet the appetite for a big turkey dinner. Now, he thought, watching the petite redheaded servant with the top-heavy figure clearing away the table, a little fucking between her tits would be all he needed to make the holiday complete.
"I think I know what you're thinking," Dolores, who'd seated herself beside him, whispered in his ear. "Why don't you pay her a visit, if you want to? I think I'd better make it up to Harry for spending the whole of last night with you on the couch."
Bud looked with slight surprise at the older woman's sly smile. Then he turned his gaze and cast Sylvia a telling nod before she took the turkey platter back toward the kitchen.
"Well," said Jean down the table.
"That's about the best Thanksgiving dinner I think I've ever had."
"It was good," Harry Smith agreed. Bud sighed. There was not the slightest doubt in his mind, after watching them chatting at the pool this afternoon and seeing them again together at dinner, that nothing had happened between Harry and his sister. And it was perfectly obvious that nothing was going to happen tonight either. Jean hadn't even taken wine with her meal, and he knew better than to think there was a chance she would cheat on her husband without a little alcoholic courage to stir her on. Perhaps, he mused, that was the real reason Dolores had suggested he visit Sylvia. Harry had probably given up. And knowing Jean, Bud couldn't say that he would blame him.
Bud waited patiently through after-dinner coffee and cocktails. He and Sylvia exchanged another knowing glance before she took off her apron and departed, and he couldn't help imagining what must go on when the Smiths were here alone with her. He wouldn't doubt that Dolores might enjoy swinging both ways occasionally, and from the look in Sylvia's eyes, he thought she would probably swing any old way at all. He finished his coffee slowly, waited for his stomach to settle. Then he announced rather awkwardly that he was going for a walk.
He left the house and strode briskly the hundred or so yards to the cozy-looking cabin, remarking as he approached it that the big window on the side facing the house looked somewhat out of place. Then, veering off the path, he glanced through it, his eyes bugging at the sight that greeted him. Through the window he could see the open door of the bedroom. Waiting on the bed, naked except for her flimsy panties, was the doll-like redhead with her big beautiful tits standing up in completely obscene exposure.
"I wonder where your brother disappeared to?" Dolores Smith remarked to Jean as she lounged on the same loveseat where Jean had sat last night, where she had almost in her near drunken stupor succumbed to the consuming desire that had raged through her long-unfulfilled loins.
"Oh, I don't know," Jean said slowly. "He likes to be alone sometimes. I suppose he went for a walk or something."
"Yes, I guess so." Dolores hesitated, watching the girl in silence. "I hate to seem rude. I know you slept late this morning, but Harry's already gone up to bed, and I rather promised I'd be joining him soon." She smiled. "Well, you're married. You must know what I mean."
Jean flushed. "I don't mind at all. I was just thinking I might take a little walk myself. The air up here at night is so nice and ..." She let her voice trail off, and she couldn't help but wonder what Dolores would say is she knew the truth about her present sex life with her husband.
"You're sure you don't mind?"
"I promise," said Jean. "Really."
"You could always drop in on Sylvia. She's got a really cozy little place in that cabin. And she's so lonely. She almost never gets to enjoy the company of anyone her own age. Why don't you go up and see her?"
"Oh, I wouldn't feel right knocking on her door this time of night, and ..."
"Nonsense. The fact is, she mentioned to me she would love to have you at any time."
Jean looked at the other woman with a frown. Something seemed strange about this whole conversation. And why would the house maid mention to Dolores that she wanted to be visited by Jean? And why would she want to be visited in the first place?
"Well, as you wish," said Dolores, rising. "Good-night. I'll see you in the morning."
"Yes, good-night," said Jean, staring after her hostess, still baffled by the previous exchange. Then she shrugged, rose also from her seat, and walked out the door and started along the pool. Reaching the end of the house, Jean paused, taking a deep breath of the refreshing night air. Then she turned to gaze past the corner at the yellow light that issued through the window of the little cabin. Again she mulled over what Dolores had suggested just before she left. The whole thing sounded almost irrational, not serious or anything, but just not the kind of thing a person would suggest. Then she noted the window itself, like a picture window in a suburban home in an upper middle-class neighborhood, not at all the sort of thing she would expect to see in a cabin made of logs. She stared, fascinated and puzzled, at the window. Then almost without thinking of it as really her destination, she started along the lane toward the cabin.
Halfway she stopped. She turned and looked curiously back toward the house. For a reason she didn't even understand, her heart was pounding almost furiously and her breathing was considerably hastened. There was something strange going on. She knew it even if she didn't know how she knew. Maybe she just sensed it.
Again Jean started forward, now more slowly, almost creeping in the darkness of the moonless night. Then, now only a short distance from the little structure, she started as she heard the low moan, the agonized moan, that issued from within it. She stood still, listening intently, her heart pounding at the thought that there might be someone hurt inside. Again she heard a sound, similar to the first, and now she hesitated only a moment longer before starting forward, veering off the trail so she could see through the window. Then she stopped, staggering and almost falling to the ground, her hand coming up to her mouth in shock at the sight that greeted her.
There through the oversized window was a doorway which led to a bedroom. Through the door she could clearly see the bed, and upon the bed she could see a naked couple writhing in sexual frenzy, oblivious to all else, and at the sight of them Jean stood transfixed, stunned, unable in the shock and horror that gripped her to even tear her eyes away from the obscene couple. Because it wasn't just any couple there on the bed, having intercourse in any normal fashion or position. The girl, of course, was Sylvia. And the man was Jean's brother Bud.
As that shattering fact gradually dawned on her, Jean's legs almost went weak. For a moment she weaved dizzily on her feet. She thought she'd come close to fainting. But even so she'd never taken her eyes away from the compelling performance going on before her. She watched the busty redhead struggling willingly beneath her brother's naked body. The girl was kneeling on the bed, her full, rounded buttocks presented directly to Bud's thrusting penis. She was cradling her head in her arms, and her big soft breasts were cushioned down into Bud's hands each time he rammed into her to drive her forward on the bed.
Half consciously, Jean moved slowly closer to the cabin, her eyes widening as her vision of the spectacle became even clearer. She could see almost perfectly each time Bud withdrew on the backstroke, pulling his bloated cock from between the girl's clenching buttocks and the heated depths of her upturned vagina; she could see it almost perfectly, almost the whole astonishing length of it, and it was huge. She could never have guessed that about Bud, as she supposed that she had never seen him with an erection when they were teenagers together. But she could never have imagined his penis could be so big. She would never have imagined any man's could.
But even if she was having a certain amount of difficulty accepting the massive blunt-edged cudgel inside her narrow little cunt, the doll-sized redhead was obviously willing to try. She was grunting and groaning as the wetly pulsing hardness slid in and out of her widespread vagina. And when Bud spoke, Jean could hear him as clearly as if she'd been in the cabin with them, or at least in her shock it seemed that way to her. "Big enough for you?" he growled, squeezing and kneading the soft pliant flesh of the girl's melon-like breasts falling into his open hands.
"Yes, God yes," the girl groaned.
"Then why don't you turn over. There's something else I want to try."
Jean watched in hopeless confusion as the nakedly panting girl slid around beneath her brother's tensely arched body. He was holding himself up with his hands, kneeling on all fours astraddle her. Lying beneath him now, her face looked soft and vulnerable. She didn't seem nearly as sure of herself as she had tonight when she'd served their dinner. The smooth white flesh of her breasts rose and fell heavily with her excited breathing, the round mounds tipped by the two now lewdly swollen buds of her rose-colored nipples.
Then the astonished brunette almost gasped aloud as she saw her brother lean up even farther over the girl, his thickly swollen rod of flesh brushing through the flaming red hair of her cunt and sliding across her belly until it was practically fitted beneath her breasts. Then, straddling her with his knees at her underarms, he seized the two resilient mounds, pushing them up high and tight together so the cleavage closed like a warm white sheath right over the tingling flesh of his lust-hardened cock.
"OOOOHHH," the redhead wailed as he began to flick his hips rapidly back and forth, shoving his hard penis back and forth up the deep channel between her mashed-together breasts.
"You hold them," he groaned after a moment.
The girl did as he asked, freeing his hands for other tasks, to which he eagerly devoted himself. With one hand, he continued to rotate the tautness of her swollen nipples, pushing the twin buttons together and moving them against each other in a friction that seemed to be almost driving the redhead out of her mind. And with his other he reached behind him, and with a quick flick of his wrist shoved his middle finger deep up between her lewdly out-splayed legs, skewering it deeply up into the moist pink folds of her seeping cunt, all the way up to his flattened palm. The girl jerked from the sheer sensation as he began to rotate it around inside her, teasing the wetly sensitive walls until the hopelessly-aroused maid panted and gasped for breath, surrendering moan after moan as she passively gave herself up to the lascivious plundering of her nakedly writhing body.
Tense and horrified, Jean watched outside the window as her brother's middle finger drove brutally upward, sinking all the way into the glistening wet slit of Sylvia's sparsely-haired cunt. She could see the girl trying to squirm away from the teasing torture, but Bud was holding her shoulders and arms pinned tight to the mattress while his cock continued to move lewdly back and forth between her quivering breasts.
"Oh Christ, it's good," he groaned. "Just like your cunt, and a little tighter, too." A lewd grin now lined his lips, and with his free hand he rubbed the underside of his lust-thickened penis, extracting it from the deep crevice between Sylvia's breasts and pushing it forward so that it almost touched her lips.
"Lick it," he commanded, holding her helplessly pinioned with his knees.
Jean was thunderstruck to hear her own brother utter such a lewd phrase, yet she felt a slight electric tingle dart menacingly down between her own thighs. She was shaking violently by now, and she realized that her breath was coming in time to the other girl's gasps of pleasure in response to the finger plundering the depths of her willing young pussy. In spite of all her shame and outrage, she was excited by the scene she witnessed.
Obviously realizing she had no choice, Sylvia lifted her head and craned her neck, moving her face forward, and with a little straining effort, she was able to stick her tongue out and reach the tip of Bud's fully erected cock. She flicked her tongue right across the tiny opening at the tip, licking up the little droplets of seminal fluid that had seeped out. A thin lewd stream of white male pre-cum stretched across her open mouth, and the cords in her neck stood out from the strain as she tried to suck the huge instrument up into her mouth. But in Bud's present position it wasn't really possible, and he laughed at her frustration, moving up and down with it, striking it obscenely against her full ovalled lips each time it slid from between the swollen crests of her softly straining breasts.
"Put it in!" the girl gasped at last, letting her head fall back to the pillow. "Put it back in my cunt. Fuck me."
Oh no, Jean thought. It can't be true that I'm watching this. Not my own brother and that girl. But she stood rooted on the spot as the pinioned girl pleaded beneath Bud's nakedly kneeling form, brought already to the end of her tether by his outrageous manipulations. Then she sucked in her breath as Peter made a sudden jerking motion and moved himself rapidly down over the girl's tiny sensuously squirming body.
For a moment the two figures on the bed were still. To Jean, waiting breathlessly outside the window, it seemed like an eternity. Then Bud began to slowly rock up and down above the girl, gradually insinuating his lust-engorged cock up between the flaming red curls of her pussy hair, withdrawing from her slightly so that the angry thick column of his cock was lewdly displayed for a brief instant before he thrust it forward again. The young maid squealed beneath him as Bud withdrew once more, and Jean's mouth dropped open in disbelief as she watched Sylvia's small but well-contoured legs wrap suddenly up around his laboring hips, her heels pressing down hard against the tensely hollowed cheeks of his buttocks as she strained to pull him back up inside the raging warmth of her soft young cunt. The long cords on the inside of her thighs flexed tightly as she slid her hair-fringed pussy back up over the lewdly glistening pole of Bud's rock-hard cock. Her soft white buttocks lifted several inches up off the bed as she struggled upward in a desperate attempt to absorb the entirety of the big hungry cock into the fleshy pink folds of her desire-filled cunt.
A lewd wet viscous sound filled the room and issued out of it as the young girl managed to slither up the lust-inflamed hardness's full shocking length and began to rhythmically pound herself against the rigid shaft, feeling his soft round balls slapping wetly against the little opening of her puckered anus nestled so invitingly between her naked ass-cheeks.
The wildly fucking couple drummed ceaselessly on, lost in their own physical lust, oblivious to all but the sensations of their wanton coupling. Outside the window, Jean tried desperately to pull herself together, to make a move to leave the terrible sight of her brother's obscene assault on the helpless redhead. But just as she was on the verge of succeeding, she saw Bud's hand curl beneath the girl's lewdly upturned buttocks, and to Jean's shock and horror, the finger searched along the crack until it found the forbidden little ring of her little anus.
It eased around the circular opening, teasing and taunting the sensitive entrance for an extended moment. Then there was a sudden tortured groan and a violent twisting of the girl's body as Bud's thick finger slipped through the protective fleshy ring and disappeared slowly up inside. The girl kicked her legs outward; then with another loud squeal she locked them again above his back, pulling her pussy hungrily up against his hard-driving loins and the two simultaneous probings of her most private physical parts.
Jean took a step backward, using all her concentrated effort to escape from the hypnotizing spectacle. In desperation she closed her eyes. She began to count backward from a hundred. Almost halfway to zero she suddenly turned, the spell at least momentarily severed, and without further hesitation, she went dashing back down the dark trail toward the house.
Dolores Smith handed the binoculars back to Harry, who sat in his bathrobe in the easy chair pulled up to their bedroom window. "Well, she's seen enough for tonight, I guess. What do you think?"
Harry lifted the binoculars to his eyes and watched the continued antics of the fucking couple in the bedroom of the little cabin. Then he lowered them as they both heard the back door of the house open, heard the sound of running feet in the hall, the opening and closing of another door, the door to Jean's bedroom.
"She must be pretty rattled," he said. "She sounded anything but calm. I guess we just watch and see how she acts tomorrow. I think it would ruin everything if I tried bursting in on her now."
"Probably so." Clad in only a see-through shorty nightgown, Dolores dropped to her knees beside the chair as Harry again lifted the binoculars to his eyes. She reached into Harry's robe, parting it below the binding sash then lowered her face over his loins to take the already partially erected shaft of his enormous cock between her ovalled lips.
"Just hope she doesn't panic completely and run," Harry remarked, never taking the glasses from his eyes as his wife began to kiss and suck in earnest at his swiftly descending cock-shaft.
In her room Jean pulled the covers up over her head in a child-like attempt to block out all memory of what she'd just seen. But it was hopeless and she still seemed to hear the echo in her ear of the helpless gasps of pain and pleasure that her own brother had caused to emanate from the mouth of the big-breasted redhead. She felt almost as if she were still standing there before that unnaturally large window, watching it all like a common voyeur.
Then she stiffened, the thought of the window reminding her of the circumstances that had led her to stumble upon the lewd performance in the first place. It was as if Dolores Smith had sent her there. But why? Had she known what Jean would find if she did go to the cabin? Good Lord! thought the disturbed brunette. What on earth was going on here? She shuddered to imagine, and as she lay there in bed, she determined one thing for sure. She was going home tomorrow. Whatever she had to do or say to convince Bud to take her back to San Francisco, she was going home - to her husband.
But even that resolution did nothing to quench the smoldering spark of desire that had been ignited up between her legs and now threatened to consume her whole naked body. She clamped her thighs together desperately in an effort to make it go away, but as if in a dream, her hands began to move involuntarily to the tautly straining tips of her breasts, and her fingers began to knead and pull at the already rigid nipples just as she had seen her brother do with the naked redhead.
Her longing was just too intense, and she groaned, rolling over on her stomach to press the sensitively swollen bud of her tiny clitoris tightly into the mattress, attempting to put out the raging fire that was suddenly engulfing her lust-heated loins. But her hands moved against her will, burrowing down between her body and the bed, groping at the hotly throbbing center amid the moist tangle of her pubic hair. Her long legs scissored wide as she felt her own moist cuntal slit begin to physically palpitate against the cool tips of her fingers.
Again she hesitated for a moment; then in sudden surrender she drew the narrow furrow open, letting the lips of her pulsating pussy open to the warmth beneath the covers, and with a groan of despair, she sank her middle finger straight up into the moistened mouth of her lewdly sucking cunt.
Jean held her breath for an extended moment then let it slowly out. The fire inside her was burning every instant more intensely, demanding satisfaction infinitely more powerful than she was capable of, but in her desperation she felt compelled to attempt to obtain some kind of relief and she drew herself up on her knees into a kneeling position, straining with her buttocks high in the air. It was almost the same position in which she'd first discovered the Smiths' lasciviously promiscuous maid, and she began to frenziedly ram her fingers in and out of her aching vagina, inserting a second then a third to form a three-pronged wedge which she thrust in deeper and deeper as her lust-inspired madness built toward a crescendo.
A stream of moans and whimpers poured from Jean's contorted lips as she began to masturbate in earnest. She had an incredible picture in her mind of her brother, of her brother's long slick cock looming out from his hard body and plowing relentlessly into the redheaded girl's helplessly aroused little pussy. And as she increased the teasing friction of the lewd finger-fucking into her parted loins, Jean's gasps became as the gasps she had earlier heard as she watched them through the window. She wanted it. She wanted the same thing. She wanted to be fucked just like the other girl.
"God," she admitted orally. It was true. She did want it. She wanted to be fucked. Now she wanted it more than anything in the world, and she found herself wishing, deliriously wishing, that her husband Bill were there right now pumping his own rigidly erected cock up into her lust-seared cuntal passage. As she continued her furious finger-fucking, her full round breasts swayed with the motion of her naked body, her nipples brushing sensuously against the sheet to further taunt her raw nerve-endings. She gasped | and groaned, thrusting her fingers harder and harder up into her panty-less cunt, feeling her own inner walls grasping them hungrily and always longing for more. She needed a man. A man's cock. Her fucking husband's cock or Harry Smith's cock or ... or ... or her brother's. Her brother's!
The thought hit her like a bolt of lightning. Her vision blurred, her breathing stopped, and for a split second her heart ceased to beat. And then the orgasm came rushing over her like a raging tidal wave of burning oil. Her whole body vibrated and jerked, and she was falling somewhere far out in space, exploding into the stars, hot cuntal moisture rushing past her hotly rummaging fingers as she gave herself up to the mind-shattering climax. A low distant-sounding wail issued from her open mouth, and she felt as if she'd been raked over by an omnipotent and devastating force, the very essence of the life in her body momentarily extracted to loom up in a cloud over her so she looked down from above at her own voluptuous and nakedly writhing form, caught up and swept away in the shattering crescendo of her release.
"Aaaagghh! Uggghh!" she whined and grunted until every last bit of energy had been drained from her lust-tortured body. Then she became still, swaying slightly, stunned, maintaining her obscene kneeling position as the last little ecstatic tremors flowed over her. Finally she sank down, her fingers slipping from the moisture of her sated pussy and rolled limply onto her side as the horrid teeth of guilt began to gnaw like starved rats at her conscience.
Chapter Six
Bill Thompson mixed himself a martini and reclined on the easy chair in the small cramped living room of the little apartment where he and Jean had been living since just before they were married. Like living in a goldfish bowl, Bill thought to himself. Two goldfish bumping alternately into each other and the glass periphery of their tiny world. Maybe that was part of what had turned him off about Jean. But being cramped together wasn't the real problem. And during the two nights since Jean had taken off Bill had discovered beyond a doubt what the real problem was.
He needed some stray ass. It was as simple as that.
Unfortunately he was a little out of practice as far as hustling strange women was concerned, but he thought he would be rapidly getting back into form. He'd found an off-campus bar where there were a lot of younger coeds, sorority types, and he'd met a couple of hot little numbers he thought he might be able to make time with. And he was sure as hell looking forward to trying. He'd even discontinued work on his thesis. If Jean was taking a vacation he was too, and it was the best thing he could have done for himself. In spite of the fact that all he had, so far, were his hopes of scoring, he already felt like a million dollars. And for the first time in a long time Bill Thompson was looking forward to the fall of night.
It was from this line of thought that Bill was interrupted several moments later by the sound of the front door opening. In an almost violent motion he shoved the martini glass to his lips and drained it as he stared with surprise and anger through the door to the foyer. There, framed in the door and rushing suddenly toward him, was his wife. She was back. She was back and it was only Friday and he'd been counting on her staying gone until Sunday evening.
"Bill! Bill, darling!" she cried, rushing toward him as he gawked at her, momentarily immobilized.
Jean knew that she had to do it this way. It was all or nothing at all with her now. There was to be no more tact or diffidence. He had to know she was a woman, with all of a woman's natural needs. And he had to fulfill the aching in her loins or else.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Bill managed, but without answering she was upon him. He received the full force of her body rushing against him. She flung her arms around him, sobbing on his shoulder and sinking down to her knees on the floor. She babbled incoherently, clinging to him desperately.
"What the hell is going on?" he insisted, his face a study of annoyance. He'd been so sure that tonight would be the night he could score the strange piece of pussy that he so desperately needed, and now his whole plan was ruined. And what was she doing, crying on his lap like a goddamn baby?
"Bill, honey, oh Bill! I missed you so much. I missed you, all over my body I missed you!" Jean continued to spew her adoration from her lips. Now she put her arm around his neck, trying to pull herself up to kiss him though he avoided her, turning his face to the side and refusing to meet her hungry lips.
"Now calm down," he said. "Goddamn it, calm down right now!"
"I know you love me, Bill. I just know it. Look at me. Look at my body and tell me you don't want me." She stood before him defiantly now, her legs spread out in a stance of daring. "Look at this body, my body. I have a beautiful body, Bill. And it's yours. You can use it, for anything you want."
She was pulling at the zipper of her dress, working it off and sliding out of her slip and brassiere, pushing her nakedly trembling breasts toward his face and then whirling about in a swift pirouette, wiggling out of her panties to reveal first the tightly clenched half-moons of her buttocks and then turning to expose the awesomely beautiful triangle of dark black cunt hair nestled between her thighs.
"I need you, Bill!" she cried desperately. "Can't you tell that I need you?"
"Have you gone completely out of your mind?" Bill blurted, stunned by his young wife's lewdly shocking performance.
But his words seemed to go over Jean's head. She persisted in her pleadings, refusing to be put off. She would do what she had to. No matter what it took to arouse him she was prepared to submit. Her fingers flew to her breasts and began to massage the tightly contracted pebbles of her nipples, tweaking them to an even more urgently tingling rigidity.
"Feel them, Bill," she purred. "Feel them. They feel good."
"Oh Christ," Bill muttered under his breath. But he was getting the germ of an idea. If he couldn't go out and find another woman, then perhaps he could take second best; a little variety from the woman he had at home. He did need to get his nuts off, and she was asking for it.
For a few moments longer he watched her parading nakedly back and forth before him, stroking herself like a whore in heat. And that was all the time it took him to make up his mind. What he had in mind was perverse. Even he would admit that. But he'd always wanted to try it. She was demanding action! All right, she would get action.
Feeling his cock begin to twitch and jerk in his trousers, Bill stood up and walked past his wife and through the door to the bedroom. He began to hastily strip as his wife came through behind him, a desperate but now hopeful look on her face.
"Oh Bill," she moaned, watching him pleadingly as he dropped his trousers to reveal the lustfully throbbing shaft of his now fully-erected cock.
Then he took her hand, leading her almost roughly to the bed, pushing her down on it and rolling her forcibly over onto her stomach. "Kneel up," he said.
"What?" she whimpered, feeling a vague stirring of suspicion well in her at hearing the almost cruel tone of his voice.
"Kneel up. You said you'd do what I wanted; well, this is what I want."
Almost shivering, the voluptuously naked brunette did as she was told, feeling her naked husband assume a kneeling position behind her, almost the same position she'd first found her brother in behind the helplessly proffered buttocks of the redhead the night before. She felt his hands coursing over her buttocks, and a soft whimper rose from her throat as she felt him slightly part them.
"Our problem is that we never have any variety in our sex. Always the same old hole. But you really do have a nice ass, Jean, and I bet money you're a virgin back here."
"What? What do you mean?"
Of course she was a virgin back there. My God, who did he think she was? She recalled that she had heard of people actually making love that way, but somehow she had never really believed the stories were true, except in reference to the most sadistic perverts and mental patients.
"You wanted some loving, didn't you? Well, you're going to get some."
Bill was leaning close to her now, his hands gripping her tightly around the waist. It occurred to her that her husband might still be only kidding, putting to the test her rash statement that he could do anything he wanted to her. But she couldn't be sure." He'd been so cruel to her lately, maybe . . . maybe he was . . . serious.
"And I'm gonna love it!" Bill added gruffly, his lust-bloated cock looming suddenly up into the crack between her softly trembling ass-cheeks.
Through a haze of bewilderment and panic, Jean felt his strong hands separating her fearfully quivering buttocks. She tried to clench her thighs tightly together, but he forced them cruelly open with his knees, the pressure of his thumbs inserted into the moist crevice too great and relentless for her to resist. The two mounds of rich milky flesh were pulled so far apart that she could feel the cool air rushing right up into the warmly forbidden passage of her rectum.
"Bill. No! Not like this! No! You can't do it to me!"
Realizing suddenly that this was no game, Jean began to squirm to get away. But her efforts were futile. He held her fast, and at last she ceased to resist. She waited, crushed, tears flooding in a stream from her eyes. How he must hate her, she thought. He must hate her so much. And perhaps she deserved it. Perhaps she was a nymphomaniac and a whore and he had every right to punish her for having so cheapened herself in trying to arouse his interest. But she knew he was determined to go through with his obscene intent. She knew with a sinking feeling that it was useless for her to try to resist.
Then suddenly her whole body lurched as she felt the tip of his middle finger push up against the helplessly cringing entrance to her naked rectum. She clenched the tiny puckered anal lips tightly together in an effort to stop the cruel penetration she feared was coming, her muddled mind returning to the bizarre spectacle of watching her brother do the same thing with his finger to Sylvia as she'd watched them through the window. She shuddered at the thought, as she had shuddered then, though she reminded herself that the other girl had actually enjoyed it. Then, with the deranged workings of her thoughts, she imagined that perhaps she was being punished not in fact by Bill for her previous obscene display, but that Bill was only an instrument, the hand of God carrying out dire punishment for her having watched that terrible scene, reeking terrible vengeance upon her for the way she had finger-fucked herself afterwards and for the incestuous thoughts she'd entertained as she did so.
Behind the kneeling brunette, her husband probed cautiously for a moment on the outer edges of the tight little elastic circle nestled so invitingly within the forbidden split of her naked buttocks.
Then, feeling her shiver and cringe before him, he began to apply pressure to the tight resistance, feeling his finger sink with a pop into the tight little entrance to the first joint, to worm its way then slowly and relentlessly up into the rubbery hot sheath of her virgin asshole.
"Nnnnnooooo!" Jean howled in the sudden searing pain. But in his present perverse mood her protest was only an encouragement and to add insult to injury he wormed in another of his fingers and began to lewdly work them about, rotating them painfully up into the tight dry opening of her protesting rectal passage in spite of all of her sobs and pleadings.
"Oh don't, please!" the squirming brunette begged. "Don't. It hurts."
Tears of pain and humiliation streamed anew down Jean's cheeks. She knew this was only the beginning. This was only the tender foreplay compared to his real intent. He was going to really genuinely make love to her in this horrible unnatural manner, if for the Lord's sake it could be called love. He was going to implant his big throbbing cock into her tightest and most virginal orifice. This would be the ultimate degradation. She knew it was the turning point of her married life, and she knew Bill must know it too. He must know that once they'd tasted the dark and forbidden fruit of sado-masochistic perversion they would never make love like normal human beings again. He knew it, and he didn't care!
And as she waited in dread and trembling, Jean found herself thinking and hoping that she would never live through what her husband was about to do to her. Surely she would die, if not from the pain, from the shame and guilt and if not from that, from a combination of both. But even in her resignation, she felt compelled to continue to resist. She cringed away, screaming in protest until he planted his hand in the small of her back, pushing her hard down against the mattress to trap her beneath his lewdly digging fingers, scissoring them open and closed in her ravished back passage.
Behind her, Bill felt a surge of power he'd never experienced before, and as suddenly as he'd shoved the thick wedges of his finger into Jean's lewdly stretched little anus, he now pulled them out. They left reluctantly, with a little pop, but his helplessly proffered wife could only welcome the brief respite as they left with the obscene little sucking noise. But she knew her relief was going to be a very transient entity as she felt Bill begin to shove her legs out wider by a spreading of his own knees between them.
"Now. I'm going to make a real woman out of you. I'm going to break the cherry in your tight little asshole and then you'll have a little more to offer your loving hubby in the future."
"Nooooo, nooooo!" Jean cried though she knew it was to no avail. Again she felt his hands on her hip, jerking them back toward his own naked loins so that once more they were high in the air and she was posed as a penitent with her breasts and face buried down onto the mattress. They were thrust up as if spread in open invitation, though nothing could have been farther from the truth. Jean would willingly have died first and she could feel her anus throbbing in total fear and helplessness in its anticipation of the horror that was to come.
"There's gotta be a first time for everything," Bill grunted, his knees pushing her soft thighs wider apart, the stiff curling hairs on his legs brushing against the insides of her fearfully trembling thighs. Jean bit down on her lower lip until she thought she was bringing blood, tears of helpless frustration continuing to flow in endless stream from her reddened eyes. She gasped as his hands grasped more harshly at her hips, holding them steady in submissive resignation as he shoved forward with long rigid thickness of his cock, the same cock she'd hoped would churn lovingly into her moist vagina, now impressing itself in the clenching crevice of her nakedly parted buttocks. She realized that she would never be able to take it in her rectum. It would split her right apart. If she couldn't appeal to Bill's chivalry it seemed at least his sanity should respond, but though she continued to protest he ignored her, clutching her harshly to maintain her present shameful pose.
"If you try to get away," he grunted, "I'll make it hurt even more."
No sooner had he spoken these words than Jean felt the hotly throbbing instrument start to rove along the passage between her naked ass-cheeks. Then his thumbs were pressing back hard against either side of her puckered brown anus and she felt a probing between the thumbs that was at first soft and giving and strangely not completely unpleasant. Then suddenly it increased and as the hard penis began to surge up against its target the sensation became very unpleasant indeed.
"OOOOOOHHHHH! NNNNNOOOOO! Please Bill, for God's sake, NO!"
Jean almost passed out as she felt the tight nether ring give way before the unnatural and relentlessly unyielding pressure. The very tip of Bill's cock popped up inside her, embedded with a sudden jerk that made her cry out again even louder.
"It's tight," Bill groaned. "But hang on, sweetie, I'll get it in there yet."
The blunt intrusion of his desire-thickened member vibrated through every fiber of Jean's hopelessly prisoned young body. She knew there was no escape from the horror and degradation that her husband had planned for her, and she did try to hold still though it took every ounce of her self-control to keep her from thrashing like an injured animal. Then she felt him push harder and his soft rubbery cockhead was followed by the hard flexing shaft working its way up inside her viciously stretched anus giving way before it in blinding flashes of pain. She grunted aloud, groaning in total submission to the horrible penetration of her private nether flesh.
It seemed to go on and on, his slow inching up into her burning rectal orifice. Then at last she felt the hair of his loins smack heavily into the smoothly rounded softness of her buttocks and she realized with some degree of wonderment that the fleshy thickness was buried finally to the hilt up into her rectum. She moaned in anguish, hanging on the stone hard cock like a piece of raw meat on an electric skewer slowly simmering from within. She could feel it searing her sensitive insides like a white-hot rod of steel, and she wondered if she would ever be able to recover from the inevitable damage that would be done her by her husband's cruel anal rape.
Behind her Jean could hear him muttering obscenities and she thought he must have turned into a total sadist. Then she realized the penetration was only the second act as she felt him begin to rhythmically saw back and forth in and out of the depths of her soft nether passage.
Now she was sobbing without restraint from the misery of his perverted attack. She had never felt so defiled and ill-used in her life and she longed for the oblivion of fainting. But she knew she would know no such mercy. She would remain conscious through the entire ordeal and she felt that in fact her mind had until this moment been only a half-conscious blur. Only now was she really and truly aware. She was aware as she'd never been aware before, of her body, of her shame, and most of all of her searing burning pain.
Behind her Bill levered up on his knees and began to fuck the full length of his punishing rod into her helpless anus, driving up behind her with smooth long strokes that racked and buffeted her before him, the penetrating rod of flesh pulling the tiny pink ridges of her anal ring outward on the withdrawal, turning them then violently back inward with each repeated vicious lunge.
Dimly, Jean was aware of her husband's faint chuckling with each hard push of his hotly rampaging cock into her tormented anal passage. Her body jerked and quivered and her thighs periodically convulsed and collapsed as an extra hard thrust would sear up between her brutally spread and pounded buttocks. She tried to sink down, but the very instrument she was trying to escape would lift her back to her knees, and Bill's grunts of pleasure, his refusal to express even a twinge of remorse at what he was doing to her were enough to wipe away any remnant of the love she'd once felt for him. Now, trying to take her mind away from the pain, she ruminated on her building hatred and womanly wrath. She wanted to get even with him, to hurt him back for the way he was hurting her, to humiliate him and torment him, to do anything she could to avenge the terrible degradation he was inflicting upon her. With a grunt she tried to clench her anal muscles together in the hope she could cause him some misery in exchange for the misery he was causing her.
"Oooooh God, it's tight!" Bill groaned, throwing his head back in laughing triumph as he felt Jean begin to respond, flexing and caressing his pulsing cock with the warmth and tightness of her rectal muscles.
Jean didn't seem to be able to remember a time in her life when she had not felt pain, when she wasn't kneeling slave-like before her husband, following his every wish and command like a trained circus animal. And it was a fitting allegory to their life outside the bedroom. That was the way it was between them. For these two years she had been living and breathing for him, hardly even daring to have a thought of her own. But from now on things were going to be different. She promised herself that. And then with a perverse and angry motion she began to move her hips back to meet the forward thrust of his hard throbbing cock and slapping loins, undulating her pain-racked body in tortured gyrations, swinging her buttocks in lewdly rotating circles and clasping the plunging cock tightly on each out-stroke with a deep squeezing throb of her rectum.
But surprisingly, she found it hurt her less when she did this, and with a glimmer of hope she increased her efforts, cooperating and responding as if she were having the time of her life.
Behind her Bill sensed the further voluntary response and he looked down in ever greater triumph at her glistening body and now red flushed ass-cheeks, watching the rubbery skin of the tiny dark hole draw back in its clinging to his emerging cock, turning almost wrong-side-out as he withdrew to the naked head. Then the tight fold of flesh was thrust hard and violently inward as he groaned and surged forward again. He was giving it to his wife as she'd never had it before and she was loving every minute of it. She was a driveling masochist, he realized, and that was probably why he'd developed his inexplicable contempt for her. But the novelty of the ass-fucking was more than enough to make it interesting and he was determined to give her everything she wanted from it.
Below him Jean bucked and churned her body in wild contortions, nakedly matching his fury with her own. She sensed that he was nearing the end, that she could bring him to climax at the speed she chose if she continued the tormented jerking of her dispoiled backside, and she longed to feel finally the spurting of his hot cum into her burning asshole that would signal the end of her suffering and humiliation.
"Oh cum,1' she moaned. "Come on and cum!" Grunting deeply in her determination, Jean suddenly fucked back against the kneeling man with even greater force, acting out her whole marriage in this one indecent act as she decided to go all the way with him. This one last time, if she could, she would run the whole gauntlet, the full circle of groveling and shame. And in doing so she would achieve her goal. By climaxing, she would derive pleasure even from his pain. There would always be a hollow ring to his perverted triumph.
Jean could hear her husband gasping above her, incoherent vulgarities spewing from his mouth as he shoved forward with a mighty, racking thrust that almost sent her sprawling forward on the bed. And as his cock surged up even deeper in the sensitively violated orifice of her anus, she felt his thick hot cum begin to pump in relentless waves up into the innermost reaches of her bowels.
Kneeling animal like in front of him, Jean met the full force of Bill's shattering climax as she took his hot male cum deep inside her lewdly stretched and ravished anus, feeling it fill the rubbery depths of her rectum to the bursting point with a warm sticky wetness. It went on and on, and then finally, with a last triumphant moan, Bill collapsed, rolling off her trembling body and onto his back beside her.
It was over. Within moments she heard the soft rhythm of his snoring. He'd failed her again. Even by this lewd approach he'd left her disatisfied, dangling, languishing in limbo or purgatory.
Chapter Seven
Jean called Bud at the Art Department the following Monday and made arrangements to meet him in the Commons dining room at the student union building for lunch. She got a place in line when she got there and he arrived shortly after her. Though Bud ordered a hearty, if inelaborate meal, Jean restricted herself to a salad, fruit juice and yogurt for desert. She wondered idly, as she paid with the five dollar bill Bud had thrust into her hand, if she would be able to eat even that meager serving.
"Where's your cosmic center?" Bud asked as they moved into the bustle and din of the spacious dining hall.
"The most private corner we can find," said Jean. "For what I want to say to you, the last thing I need is an audience."
They went to the smaller room that served as annex to the main dining hall and got a small table in the back that afforded them relative privacy. Bud dug immediately into his meal but Jean merely stirred her salad with her fork. Then, noting that she wasn't eating he stopped and looked up at her. "All right, kid. Out with it."
Jean hesitated but for a moment. "You don't think, after the way I feigned sickness and cut our last visit short, that you could get us another invitation to the Smiths', do you?"
Bud's mouth dropped open. He let his fork fall with a toneless ring onto the edge of his plate. Jean swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
"Harry Smith made a pass at me the first night we were there," Jean began, then quickly added: "And don't get too upset before you hear the whole story. I think ... I think to some extent I may have invited him to do it."
Bud paused before speaking. He wasn't sure quite how to react, though there was nothing very surprising about what Jean had told him. "All right," he said after a moment. "Harry made a pass at you? And?"
"This is not easy for me to say, but. . . but I saw you making love to that girl. What's her name? The redhead. Sylvia?"
"Uh . . . yeah, I think so."
"There was something strange about the whole . . . situation there. I mean, I'm not the kind of woman to go throwing myself at another woman's husband. But I do find Mr. Smith attractive. And he's .. . he's certainly everything that Bill is not."
'Things must be getting bad at home," Bud began. "Even worse than before."
"It's very bad. Bud, I don't know. It's as if he hates me. I claimed sickness because .. . because I needed a man and, as of last Friday, I still thought of my husband as . . . the only man for me. But no more. And Bud ... I just have this feeling that. . . that whatever would have happened if I hadn't refused Mr. Smith that night, wouldn't completely have been happening behind his wife's back. Do you understand what I mean?"
Bud drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the table for a moment. Then he nodded. "All right. I'll call Harry after I finish eating. Well figure on driving up Friday, so make arrangements to leave work at noon."
"Thank you, Bud. I know I'm putting a strain on your private life. But .. . you must understand what I'm doing?"
Bud nodded, then smiled. "I understand, kid. And don't worry. Going to bed with Sylvia is not the kind of thing you'll find old Bud objecting to. Not to mention Dolores Smith."
He smiled at the look of shock that appeared on his sister's sensuous face, and watched it evolve slowly to an expression of comprehension.
"Just one more for the bed, dear," Dolores Smith said, laddling another helping of the strong sour tequila-spiked punch into Jean's glass.
"Oh I really don't think I can hold it," Jean giggled, gratefully accepting the drink, her big black eyes rolling as she sipped it and looked at the sophisticated woman sitting next to her on the loveseat in the living room of the elegant ranch-style house. Then she blinked, looking quickly around. "Where did the men go?"
"The men stepped out for a cigar and a little locker-room gab. And they left us women alone to discuss our own little secrets."
"Oh," Jean said and took another drink of the Marguerita, feeling the room seem to spin around her as the effect of the strong cactus-derived alcohol reached her muddled brain. It had required all of her brother's persuasion to prevent her backing out of making the second weekend visit. She just wasn't cut out for this sort of thing and she'd resigned herself to a weekend of turmoil and struggle. She just couldn't go to bed with another woman's husband right under that woman's own roof, even if she did have her silent consent. Though there had been a brief period when with the aid of the tequila-inspired recklessness had made her feel almost that she could. But that moment had now passed, and she knew that all she would be able to do was sleep.
"I get the feeling you've been having a lot of trouble at home?" Dolores Smith began cautiously, watching the effect of the tequila mirrored in her pretty guest's sensuously sculpted face. She had a feeling that Harry was still going to have his work cut out for him in seducing her. She thought any tidbit of information might possibly be to his advantage. And she knew that at this point more tequila could do no harm, and could possibly make things a little easier for him.
"How did you know that?" Jean asked, staring at the older woman.
Dolores smiled and put her hand on the brunette's knee. "Women sense those things," she said. "Come on and tell me about it. Maybe I can be of some assistance."
Jean took another long drink of tequila. Then, almost without intending to, she started to talk. And before she had finished she'd recounted the whole horrible story, omitting not even the last cruel animal rape of her anus.
"What a monster!" Dolores gasped. "You poor darling. What you need is a real man, a man like my Harry. Someone sensitive to women, who can soothe you. Soothe you and excite you at the same time. You need the kind of man who can make a little ass-fucking a joy!"
Jean blinked. Surely she hadn't heard correctly. But she was feeling so woozy from the inordinate amount of tequila she'd imbibed that she couldn't really be certain. But she couldn't help but believe Dolores had said that about her husband Harry.
Then she smiled, stupidly she feared, and shrugged. Dolores smiled back at her and took her hands in her own, squeezing them warmly. "You look . . . you look like you've had about all you can take. Come on, let me help you into bed and ... I promise, everything is going to be fine very soon, much sooner than you can imagine."
Gratefully Jean allowed herself to be led down the hall to the guest bedroom. She even allowed herself to be undressed and in her present intoxicated state she was hardly embarrassed about being naked in the presence of the other woman. As she slid between the sheets she was vaguely aware that for all her interest in taking off her dress, Dolores had not concerned herself at all with helping her into her nightgown. It was still hanging uselessly on the closet i in door. But she didn't feel like bothering with it now and besides, she was already under the covers.
"Thank you, Dolores," she murmured softly. She looked up at the woman's tenderly smiling face, then slowly let her eyelids fall shut. "Thank you so much."
Dolores looked down at her for a moment, then turned and went out the door. Her husband was coming down the hall and she stood just outside, waiting for him. "The poor angel," she said when he reached her. "She told me all about her problem. And you're exactly what she needs. So go in there, lover. Go in there and really give it to her." Dolores's manicured fingers brushed along the fabric at the crotch of her husband's trousers. "You're in for a real treat, I might add. I just undressed her for you and . . . she really is a beauty."
"Thanks, love," Harry said, smiling. "Now, run along and get Bud. We don't want him to miss this."
Harry watched his wife move away down the hall, then slowly cracked the door to the guest room where he could see the voluptuous brunette dozing peacefully on the bed, the light covers gently outlining the soft curves of her body, only her face and her long flowing black hair visible above them. Involuntarily he drew in his breath at the sight of her. She looked so innocent and beautiful, and it was clear that the tequila had done its work on her. There was something about the Mexican drink that distinguished it from any other alcohol Harry knew. Fed to a woman at just the right pace, it seemed to have an almost psychedelic effect.
Short of Spanish fly or some other unscrupulous agent, Harry found it the best thing in the world for completely wrecking the willpower. And he didn't see anything wrong with giving himself the edge. After all, the luscious brunette did need what he could give her even more than he needed what she had to offer. He knew that already she was ready for him. She'd been ready last week. It was just her puritanical morality that had held her back. And a good tequila high didn't leave much room in the mind for such outdated concepts.
Harry moved slowly to the bed and stood looking down at the girl's sensuous, sleeping face. Then ever so carefully he drew the covers down the voluptuous high-peaked mounds of her breasts, her smooth belly and narrow waist, her sensuously rounded buttocks and slender curved thighs and calves. She stirred slightly, though her eyes remained shut. Harry let his gaze rove slowly over the feast that lay before him, at last focusing his attention of the softness of her inner thighs, seeming to glisten faintly in the dim light of the room, and on the perfect triangle of silken black cunt-hair nestled between them.
She looked like a goddess, he thought, lying there waiting for him. A love goddess, and his eyes peered hungrily on the faintly visible lips of the top of her pussy. Silently he opened the fly of his trousers and eased out the thickly throbbing hardness of his cock, feeling the heat of its blood-engorged head beginning to seep tiny droplets of seminal fluid. Slowly he massaged the smooth foreskin back and forth over the nakedly jerking head as he advanced around to the side of the bed toward the sleeping girl.
This was really going to be fun, he thought, his anticipation building by the cured of a lot of her silly inhibitions then he dropped his pants to the floor and let his fully exposed hardness stand out in a proudly menacing erection over the spread-eagled body of the naked girl on the bed. As it twitched of its seeming own accord, he hurriedly removed the rest of his clothing.
The aroused fifty year old man stood for a moment longer over Jean's sleeping body, now beginning to stroke himself to an even more turgid hardness. It felt so good and she looked so lovely that for a second he considered just stroking his rigidity until the white spurts of cum exploded from it and streamed over her soft naked breasts and belly to awake her like falling rain. But he quickly thought better of it. There was no use in getting reckless the first time and, anyway, he would prefer to feel her tight little cunt contracting around his cock rather than his own jerking hand.
Hungrily. Harry Smith took in the magnificence of the girl's big, mauve-nippled breasts. Then he reached down, beginning to move his hands gently across their soft pliant firmness, tweaking the nipples to automatic rigidity under his experienced caress. As he did so the girl shifted slightly on the bed, moaning as though she were aware of and welcomed his touch. She was dreaming, he thought, and if he played her carefully she would be far beyond the point of stopping him before she awoke and realized that the sensations coursing over her naked flesh were not from a dream, but the real thing.
"Bill ... Bill darling," she mumbled thickly through the fog of her tequila-altered consciousness. "It's all right now. That's different. That's what I've wanted from you all this time."
Harry grinned. As for Jean, she had faintly heard someone enter the room,but the disturbance had not been enough to bring her back to consciousness. And when she'd felt the exquisite contact of the gentle hands on her breasts, an unconscious mechanism of her mind had seized upon Dolores's last words. She had thought they were coming true. It was, miraculously, Bill acting like the Bill she had once known and dearly loved, the Bill who had gone and now returned, as Ulysees returning to Penelope. He was here again and everything was all right. He was being gentle with her, taking care of her, doing everything she'd wanted and needed for so long, and already she could feel the blood beginning to stir through her veins, feel a warm tingling sensation coursing over her flesh and searing through her naked loins.
Harry chuckled to himself. So she thought he was her husband? Well, she would damn sure know the difference between himself and her husband before Harry Smith was through! Even as he continued to stroke her breasts with one hand he returned his other to his rock-hard penis. Then he moved lower, his fingers dancing over the nakedly sleeping girl's smooth belly and the little hole of her navel, down through the thin strands of the hair of her cunt and into the warm wet folds of flesh between her thighs.
"Ooooooooh," Jean droned on. Her nakedly stirring body was becoming more alert now, responding automatically to the expert caresses over her most sensitive bodily parts. Every portion of her sensuously exposed nakedness became achingly sensitized. She pushed the horrible anal rape that had been her last sexual experience completely from her mind, responding without restraint or inhibition. And already a few glistening little droplets of moisture were beginning to rise up between her parted thighs as the hair-lined opening of her pussy began a slow spasmodic contracting, throbbing delicately against each maddening caress, longing for more and more of the tantalizing contact.
"Yes," she purred as Harry began to finger-fuck in earnest. "Yes. Like that. Like that. Ooooooooooh yes. I like it. I like it."
Harry grinned. Her voice was becoming clearer now. And his face was becoming a mask of yearning desire as he continued to stroke and touch the naked brunette's moistly flowing cunt. He moved closer, then climbed up onto the bed and crouched on all-fours over her gently tossing white body, pushing her unresisting thighs wider apart. Then, his cock urgently twitching from his thickly haired loins, he scooted up between them, pushing Jean's legs even wider apart, his knees pressing against her slender calves as he bent over her, lowering his face to a scant few inches above the hair-covered mound of her nakedly throbbing little cunt. He could feel the saliva rushing into his mouth as he looked down at her silken, black-haired pussy, watching it moisten expectantly, almost begging to be filled.
Jean was rising toward consciousness as if born by a great bubble of air from the ocean's murkiest depths. She was trying to open her eyes, straining against the heavy drawn-down lids. And now, as they did part to slits, she could see the shadowy form crouching between her helplessly spread legs. She could feel the palms of his hands pushing against the tender softness of her inner thighs, holding them out side apart. She could see his head dropping lower. She could feel his breath. And then suddenly he was doing something she'd never had happen to her before and she was suddenly awake, jerking her head upward, her entire naked body afire as she felt the man, some man's, moistly probing tongue surge up the length of the sensitive slit of her pussy, his lips planting tingling kisses on the tortured flesh surrounding the forbidden orifice of her desire-ridden little cunt. And all she could say was, "Oooooooooooooooh. Oh yes!"
"We have them in nearly all the important rooms," Dolores said, leading Bud into the dressing room that adjoined the bedroom where Harry was launching the most lasciviously shocking assault she'd ever experienced upon Jean's helplessly stripped and spread-eagled body. "Or should I say looking in on all the important rooms?"
"What are you talking about?" Bud grunted, his cock twitching hotly up in his trousers as he looked at the older woman's slender figure clothed in the loose gown that fell softly over her supple curves.
"Mirrors! Two-way mirrors. We picked them up from a San Francisco antique dealer who bought out an old whorehouse on the Barbary Coast. I've tried and tried to get Harry to install a videotape system so we could start living like normal people in the twentieth century. But Harry thinks videotapes are to voyeurism what rubbers are to fucking, so I'm afraid this is the best we can offer."
As Bud stared at her in confusion, Dolores stepped up to the wall, running her hand across it until she found a hidden switch. Then his eyes almost fell out of his face as he saw the panel slide away and found himself peering through a small window into a dimly lit bedroom, at two naked forms who were now but blurs in his eyes.
"What in the hell?"
"We're going to watch them while we fuck. Your sister and my husband. I'll admit it would be more orthodox if it were your wife and my husband but the variation on the norm should be interesting, I think."
"But I can't watch my . . . my sister . . . being . . . being fucked!"
"Why not? She watched you fucking Sylvia. So did Harry and I for that matter. And if we're up here to have a weekend orgy there's no reasons we should be prudish about it."
As Bud gawked at the two blurs suddenly taking clear shocking shape in his view, Dolores seized her long dress and pulled it up into a bunch at her waist. Standing before him at the wall, she reached back to take his hot-fleshed cock, throbbing hardness, up between her round tightly formed ass-cheeks. It was only when he felt the softly moistened hairs of her cunt nestled in the snug warmth of her flesh that Bud realized she'd worn no panties beneath the clinging gown. Then she squirmed back against him automatically lunged forward, ramming the blunt-edged shaft up against her yielding cunt-lips to slide the long saliva-slick shaft of his cock straight up into the smooth clasping sheath of her vagina from the back.
"Christ." he groaned as he felt her experienced cuntal muscles begin to work like little caressing paws at the sensitive hardness of his penis. This was even more than he'd been prepared for. After all. even knowing the facts of life, he hadn't completely abandoned the protective feelings he naturally had toward his sexy looking sister.
Through the little window, Harry was now working hungrily, feeling Jean's soft wet pubic hair brush tantalizingly against his cheeks. Her elbows were pressed tightly against her heaving ribs and her head lolled helplessly from side to side, her own hands moving down as though with a will of their own over her smoothly rounded breast and warm flat belly to come to rest down between her thighs on either side of the two tingling lips of her cunt.
Then she moaned deeply, arching her buttocks upward and inching her fingers outward to slowly spread the fleshy air-lined lips wider apart, exposing the moist wet inner furrow even more completely to the hungrily sucking mouth of the man between her thighs.
She gasped as the hotly probing tip of his tongue darted out. its wet flicking surface circling the quivering bud of her erect little clitoris, his lips sucking hungrily it the warmly pulsing folds of flesh. And ever so slowly, the searing tongue wormed deeper, moving up and down the length of the lust-wetted slit of the brunette's cunt, probing limberly upward as his nose nuzzled the erected bud of her clitoris, sliding back out again to flick down across the little membrane at the bottom of her cunt-lips to find even more tantalizing contact with the other forbidden little orifice that lay hidden between the nakedly clenching cheeks of her ass.
To her absolute shock it paused there, moving in a slowly tormenting circle around the little ring before it flicked back across and again moved up the quivering hair-lined vaginal slit.
"Good Lord," Jean whimpered, her buttocks grinding out of control against the obscenely squeaking bed, her lips opening and closing as little kitten-like sounds escaped from her throat in the wake of the lustfully uttered expletive.
In the other room Bud was completely overcome by the lewd presentation of his sister's obscene performance with the husband of the woman he was even now frenziedly skewering from behind with the raging shaft of his own lust-hardened cock. "I can't believe it," he groaned. "Jesus Christ, I just can't believe it."
"Then maybe you'd like a closer look," Dolores Smith managed through gritted teeth. "Huh1?"
"Follow me," she grunted. "And I mean follow me. Hold on so you don't slip out."
Dumbfounded, Bud reached around Dolores's waist. She placed her feet on his and keeping his cock deeply embedded up between her buttocks into the warmly clasping softness of her cunt, he followed her directions and walked her along the wall to the door that led into the other room. She tlicked the light off in the dressing room so they wouldn't be overly obvious to the other couple, then gently ipened the door.
Standing behind her and looking over her shoulder. Bud flexed his cock to twitch it even deeper up into Dolores's lust-seared cunt, and she was gratified to feel his hot panting breath on her ear, his penis searching like a roto-rooter up into the most sensitive folds of her pulsing inner flesh.
On the bed in the other room, Harry Smith rounded his lips, oblivious to the intruders standing in the door, oblivious to everything but the taste and smell of the throbbing opening beneath his tongue, and he wormed and licked the limber instrument deep into the warmly seeping crevice to prompt a further low guttural groaning from the squirming girl below him. He felt her soft warm thighs close convulsively around his lewdly moving head, and the warm flesh of her pussy slipped moistly around his long extended tongue as the walls of her invaded vagina opened and closed in its own sucking response as though to pull him even deeper up into the searing hot warmth.
Jean's heels drummed a frenzied rhythm on Harry's naked back, pressing and driving his body closer to her upturned buttocks and the wet trap of her spasming cuntal plane. It was difficult for him to breathe and his nose was pressed against the penis-like hardness of her jerking little clitoral bud so that he had no alternative but to inhale the most striking pungence of her hotly flowing pussy moisture. His cock was working up and down in an involuntarily twitching, swollen so hard he felt it would go completely out of control in seconds, and he knew he had to fuck this hot little piece of tail very quickly. He was running out of time.
"Oh! Ah! Uugggghhh!" the aroused female moaned beneath him. Then suddenly he grabbed her flailing legs behind the knees and shoved them roughly back against her creamy white shoulder, slithering eagerly up her softly writhing body as she jackknifed before him on the bed. The swollen mass of his lust-stiffened cock brushed tantalizingly up against the soaking wet surface of her curling cuntal hair, and he placed his hands just below her shoulders, almost beneath her arms, feeling her lock her slender ankles high above his neck as he lowered the full weight of his own torso against the backs of her scissoring thighs, pushing them down until her knees rested on the soft cushions of the two lushly formed mounds of her breasts.
Now the full darkly inviting view of the area around her pussy was helplessly exposed to his leering gaze, and his hungry eyes feasted on the pink hair-lined crevice, the flanged lips pulled out wide apart by the pressure of his thighs pressing down upon hers, pushing out on the rounded cheeks of her eagerly squirming buttocks.
Still languishing in the effects of the tequila that had been poured down her through the whole long course of the evening, Jean no longer bothered to worry herself about the fact that the man hovering over her was not her husband, as she'd thought at the beginning of the dream. And maybe it wasn't even a dream.
She didn't know and she didn't care. Whatever it was, she'd never known anything like the utter bliss of the sweet oral lovemaking to which she had just been subjected. And now she could feel the pulsing heat of his fleshy hardness lying full length up along the open slit of her softly quivering cunt, causing her whole body to tremble with a mingling of exquisite fear and expectation. It felt so big, almost twice as big as the one she was used to. and she realized that it would be a real challenge for her to receive it inside her. And yet now. in the dream-state of consciousness to which her raging lust had driven her, she rose to that challenge. She wanted it inside her, even if it hurt her. even if it injured her.
And the delirious brunette probably had no idea how swiftly and profoundly her wish was going to be fulfilled. Harry Smith was now trembling with uncontained want, and he had no intention of fooling around any longer. The twitching hardness of his cock lay perfectly insinuated right along the softness of her welcoming little pussy slit, and as he felt her widespread buttocks begin a slow up and down hunching motion to tease his sensitive fleshy hardness to even greater urgency, he realized that she was just as ready as he was. She wasn't going to resist. He knew that now as surely as he knew his name was Harry Smith.
Desperately Jean responded to the automatic flexing of Harry's cock up between her lustfully squirming buttocks. It was as if her hungrily yearning young pussy was inspired by a secret want of its own, as if it was searching desperately for the blood-filled tip, hungering for the obscene penetration her body demanded. And she knew now that she had to have it. No matter what the consequences, she had to have it now!
Then, surrendering the last of her inhibitions, the desperately aroused brunette finally made a move to take the initiative. She reached down in between their bodies with one hand, her fingers searching over the moist lips of her own secret cuntal flesh to find the throbbing hardness that was already starting to press up between the open readiness of her now slickly lubricated cunt-lips. It was rock-hard and she clasped her hand tightly about it, her closed fist beginning a rapid up and down motion as though to force it into submission. And as she did so she fch it twitch up even longer and thicker in her hand, assuming an almost frightening proportion and again prompting her to wonder if she would ever really be able take it inside her. But now she was too tar gone, to be held back by timidity and without further hesitation she pulled it downward from the hairy belly from which it protruded, marveling at its springy resilience as she guided it up the length of the lewdly upturned valley of her buttocks, never letting it lose the previous contact with her flesh until she felt it posed and pointed directly between the gently palpitating lips of her vagina.
She held it there with one hand, placing the other on Harry Smith's taut sinewy buttocks, sucking in her breath in determination and resignation to the searing penetration that was to come, then pulling with all her feminine strength to draw the hard cock-head up into the softly resisting lips of her tight little cunt. For shivering moment the entry was stymied. Then with a slight little pop, some of the resistance gave way and she felt the forbidden exquisite stretching of her sensitively soft flesh as just the blunt-edged cock-head pushed up into the entrance of the quivering little orifice.
And then she could control herself no longer. "Oh," she moaned allowed. "Come on. Come on and fuck me. Fuck me! I need it so badly!"
Bud Langford blinked at hearing those lewd words on his sister's lips. He'd never heard her say anything like that in her life, but the words he heard her now uttering to the naked man poised like a stallion above her were coming not from the girl Bud knew, not even from the person Jean herself knew herself to be. They poured from a source deep inside her,a wanton creature who instinctively had always known them, had always held them dormant within the shy, respectable housewife who controlled the voluptuous body in which both beings lived. This was Jean's second self, the other side of the coin, and now it had emerged to dominance. This was the real woman in her, the woman who knew no inhibitions or restraint and was determined to get what all women need and would say whatever she had to to achieve her obscene goal.
"Give it to me," she begged. "Give it to me, you bastard. I want you inside me. I want your cock inside my cunt!"
And now the other Jean, the one who'd always lived in dominance before, was shocked and stunned, yet lewdly excited by the surfacing of her inner self. Both of the beings were surrendering to the lure of the flesh. Almost, they were merging into one whole sane polymorphous perversion of femininity.
"Christ Almighty!" Bud gasped in the doorway, no longer concerned with keeping his and Dolores's presence a secret. "Look at that hot little bitch go! No wonder she wasn't satisfied with that prick of a husband she's married to!"
The lust-crazed brunette's brother had never seen anything from any woman that excited him the way she was exciting him now. He was really going out of his mind and he began to buck wildly forward into Dolores's widespread buttocks from behind as she bent over subserviently before him, her skirt still bunched high off her naked hips to facilitate his obscene intrusion. Bug-eyed, he consumed the bewildering scene before him. Whatever qualms he might have had about looking at his sister in such lewdly intimate conditions as he now found her had been completely obliterated by his sheer warped excitement. The lust flowing through his veins was like an enormous tide and he felt as if a whole new vista of sexual endeavor had opened up in a panarama before him. And even as he was obsessed by the obscene performance before him, he never paused in the vicious ramming of his cock in and out of the tightly skewered opening of his hostess's warmly undulating pussy. He felt like a man arriving finally in the promised land. Now anything was possible, he thought. The lines of restraint were all cut loose. The four of them here, the five of them in fact if Sylvia was counted, could do anything at all. Anything they happened to want.
With a cruelly devilish motion Dolores Smith slipped the tenderly gyrating slot of her warm moist pussy away from the jerking shaft of Bud's cock. As he reached desperately to pull her back into position she whirled, looking at him through narrowed eyes as her tongue flicked from her mouth to lick deliciously across her inviting red lips. Then, a wanton smile on her face, she dropped to her knees before him.
"What you need is a little more sucking," she purred distantly, knowing that he was getting out of control, wanting to control his cumming, to prolong his orgasm as much as possible. She waited for an agonizing moment, then with fiendish delight she darted her tongue forth to meet his lewdly glistening cock, tasting her own inner cuntal secretions along the wet rim of it. And as Bud trembled before her, she grasped his throbbing rod of flesh with both hands to draw the hard rubbery length of it up into her mouth, allowing the obscenely secreting tip to embed itself all the way down her tongue and into the back of her throat so that she almost choked.
With a perversity he thought bordered on absolute madness, Bud returned his attention to the lewdly stimulating scene taking place before him, at the same time dropping his hands to seize the sandy-blonde hair of the elegant and sophisticated woman who knelt before him and draw her head tight against his loins to embed the lust-engorged hardness of his cock almost to the hilt in her violated mouth, relishing even in the gagging sounds that coughed from her throat as he began to fuck brutally in and out between her wantonly sucking lips.
Lying still helplessly jackknifed on the bed, Jean could feel the aching lips of her lust-heated pussy being pushed slowly open by the cudgel that threatened to penetrate their sanctuary. Then she gasped as the pressure was suddenly increased. The elastic-rimmed tightness held for an instant longer, then gave way completely before the relentlessly surging force of Harry's rock-hard cock. She grunted shamelessly, gritting her teeth from the sheer raw sensation as he shoved harder against her. Then Harry bucked down heavily with all the strength of his body and her cunt flowered open in brilliant tribute to adaptability of the female physique, allowing him in a slow unyielding movement to sink his lust-inflated cock all the way to the hilt up into the lewdly stretched softness of her quivering cuntal sheath.
Jean sighed out deeply, feeling his balls slap heavily against her clenching little anus as she screwed herself futilely down into the mattress in automatic retreat from the obscene penetration. But even as she did so, her legs splayed out wider apart, and as her dark eyes opened wide to look with mingled amazement and gratitude into Harry Smith's face, there was within them no protest to be beheld.
As a precaution Harry held her still beneath him, sensing her final surrender as she shoved her face up to cover his lips with her own wide open mouth. But even as she kissed him, the girl struggled vainly to keep him from sinking any deeper into her. She already felt as though she'd never been so filled and stretched in her life and she was sure if the penetration continued she really would be split apart like a drawn and quartered slave.
But everything she did only seemed to further excite her lust-crazed aggressor, and she could feel his viciously surging penis worming its way deeper and deeper into her futilely resisting vaginal tightness. The contracting walls of her cringing pussy clasped tightly around it as if of their own accord, and Jean could feel every ridge of the hard-muscled flesh as it pressed deeper and deeper until the rubbery tip came into blunting contact right on the smooth cushion of her cervix.
It was in her. It was in her as deep as she could take it. The merger was complete and it filled her so that Jean felt almost as if it were a part of her, an addition to herself in its pain and hugeness deep up inside her.
"Ooooooooooh, Mr. Smith! Mr. Smith!"
Harry Smith was in no mood for conversation. He could feel the excited woman beneath him melting the searing tightness of her cunt around his deeply embedded cock, and he deliberately flexed it far up into her most sensitive inner depths. But to her complete surprise, this new familiarity caused a growing pleasure to spark within her, and like a trapped animal Jean began to answer Harry's intentional throbbings with a sensuous opening and closing movement of her own warm wet flesh around his thickly impaling cock-shaft.
Without moving above her, Harry continued the slow and rhythmical throbs of his swollen penis deep inside the naked belly of the young girl pinned down beneath him. He could hardly contain himself. He could hear her groans of pleasure beginning to resound through the room and he knew this was the moment he'd been waiting for. He'd been waiting for it ever since last Wednesday when he'd first lain eyes on her. And now it was here Experiencing a deep-felt satisfaction, the older man watched as Jean's long frustrated body started to come to life. He would have bet money from the look on her face that she'd never been fucked this deep in her life. She was shuddering beneath every thrust of his cock, but he sensed that the pain was beginning to recede, slowly giving way to its opposite. She had begun to rotate her; hips slowly from side to side, initiating a teasing friction of her clinging vaginal flesh around his hotly impaling cock, and he could feel the moist orifice dialating and lubricating even further around his deep penetrating cock.
And now he was beginning to feel the effects of the tantalizing contact, and he knew that sensations even more intense than those he experienced must be surging already almost out of control through he: lustfully aroused body. The beating hardness of his penis was rippling a fire of delight through her hopelessly awakened cunt, dancing like sparkles across her thighs and up her belly to the tingling nipples of her breasts, sweeping aside all her fear, all her guilt and shame, leaving nothing but the monomaniacal lust for satisfaction.
Now Jean had almost completely forgotten about her husband. She didn't care that what she was doing was adultery. She didn't care that she was enjoying it. Because she was. It was wonderful. It was iike nothing she'd ever experienced in her life and even if she was damned in hell for eternity it would be worth this one exquisite night of joy. in the doorway, Bud could hardly contain himself as he watched his own sister's naked ass-cheeks begin screwing up against the length of Harry Smith's surging member. He was identifying with the other man, putting himself in that man's place even as the wife of the other man tightened iter lips around his own cock-shaft, groveling and gurgling in lust-inspired submission on her knees before him. He imagined it was not her mouth at all that he felt, imagined that it was really his own sister's pussy, and as a spur to that fantasy he focused his attention on the lust-swollen pussy-lips, watching them pull away from Harry's cock, sliding slickly down the full rigid length of the long shafty pole, then nibbling slowly back up as the soft black hair was brutally parted by each angry forward lunge.
"Oh Jesus!" he groaned, no longer even caring if the couple on the bed heard and became aware of his presence. It no longer seemed to matter that there were really four of them in the room. It seemed natural that if Harry and Jean were there doing that, he and Dolores should be here too. It was his sister being fucked in the cunt on the bed. It was that man's wife being fucked in the mouth over here on the floor. And what, he asked himself now, was so terribly wrong with that?
Now Harry was looking down in relish at the half-crazed smile of ecstasy playing on the lips of the lust-inspired girl who writhed beneath him. Her movements were becoming quicker and more intense, her belly slapping loudly against his stomach with each violent upward buck. She moved like a woman possessed by demons, her teeth biting into his shoulders, her dark eyes wide and wild, her head flailing from side to side. He could see that already she was straining to cum and far up inside her belly he could feel a sluicing wet sucking as her cuntal walls contracted in frenzy against his insanely pounding cock. She bucked against him like a wild woman as he buried himself deeper and deeper into her quivering pussy warmth.
And then suddenly he realized it was going to happen. With a deep-throated cry she began to thrash and vibrate uncontrollably, wet pussy juices flowing freely down from her throbbing cuntal tightness, drowning his impaling rod with its sticky warmth, trickling its way obscenely along her inner thighs and down into the crevice of her upturned buttocks.
"You too!" she grunted. "YOU TOO, MR. SMITH. CUM WITH ME. GIVE ME YOUR CUM INSIDE ME!"
She'd gone beserk. screaming, begging, pleading, thrashing and tossing as though in a fit of depraved passion as he reached back behind to again grab the backs of her knees and push her once more into the humiliating jackknife position, his weight sagging down so heavily on her that for a moment Jean thought he might break her back. But even then she continued to cry and chant her pleasure and release, jerking and hunching her buttocks in a staccato of reckless fury as she felt the sudden hot spurting of the man's searing male fluid surging in great splattering drops far up into the most secret depths of her loins and belly.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAA EEEEEEEEE!" she cried. The widespread split between her legs couldn't seem to get wide enough for her liking. Now she yearned for more and more of the insane adulterous fucking, more and more of the wildly plundering penis, the pawing of her body, the absolute ravishment until her spirit was completely broken and she was nothing but a whimpering foot-licking slave of sex.
But it was over. She could feel the tension go out of Harry's body, feel the last drops of cum mingle with her own, the instantaneous deflating of his cock in her loins.
"Oh no!" she gasped. "Don't stop now. I want more! I WANT IT AGAIN!"
Chapter Eight
"Nooooooooo! No!" Jean continued to wail in lustfully awakened desperation. She'd just had a taste. She'd had the greatest climax she'd ever experienced in her life and it had whetted her appetite like the strongest aphrodisiac. She wanted more and more and already tiny relentless sparks of desire filled her straining cunt as she struggled and clasped at the softness of Harry's deflating penis in desperate hope of bringing it back to life.
And then something happened that even she couldn't immediately comprehend.
Harry was being pulled from her body forcibly by another man who'd entered the room. She closed her eyes in outrage and shame as she felt her host's limber instrument of sex slip from her loins. And then as she felt the sagging of the bed, felt the other man crawling up to where Harry had been, she opened her eyes to stare up in total shock and astonishment.
"Come on, sweetheart. Your brother Bud's gonna show you some real fucking!"
The sight of her brother stretching out above her sent Jean into a momentary state of shock. She couldn't move or breathe. She could do nothing but lie helplessly immobilized beneath him as his hands rummaged down between her still widely parted thighs and she experienced in spite of her confusion and embarrassment a renewal of the tantalizing sensation that had been so suddenly denied her.
"Bud!" she gasped, staring up at her brother's flushed face that was now a mask of unreasoning desire leering down at her with the fury of the mad. And then suddenly he was levering himself up between her cum-smeared thighs. And she realized that he was just as naked as she. And she realized that Harry Smith was standing naked still beside the bed, that Dolores Smith, naked from the waist down with her long skirt bunched obscenely at her waist, was standing almost just beside him. Good Lord, Jean wondered. What in the hell was going on around here?
"Ram it into her, Bud!" Dolores gasped, apparently incapable of resisting the attempt to give a little encouragement to the incestuous couple. Then she moved to comfort her husband for his having been so violently and unexpectedly replaced.
"That's okay," Harry shrugged, putting his arm around his half-naked wife and starting to work the zipper down the back of her gown. "At least I got there first. If he wants sloppy seconds ..."
Bud wouldn't have cared if it was sloppy tenths. It was his sister and he was going to get her, and that was all that mattered. The fully waiting plane of her naked cunt was presented to him like a human sacrifice and he was powerless to resist the temptation to take her up on what appeared to be an unrestrained invitation.
Pinioned beneath him, Jean shuddered. Now this really was wrong! She didn't even know the word for it. Incestuous adultery, or adulterous incest? For a moment she was torn between her own high moral standards and the molten desire still scorching her already lewdly ravished vagina. But even she knew that the desire was going to win out, and as tears of shame and regret flooded her big black eyes, she formed on her lips the only words she could say under the circumstances, as she saw them: "Fuck me, Bud. Just fuck me!"
Bud needed no other invitation. His heavy muscular body sagged down upon her twitching nakedness, pushing her full tight breasts back against her chest, and at the same time the thick pole of his cock searched up to plunge deep into her hungrily waiting pussy, pushing the moistly unresisting folds of his sister's flesh in rippling waves before its cruelly surging head.
My own baby sister!
The thought blinked on and off in Bud's mind like a neon sign, but any misgivings he might have felt were only momentary. As beneath him Jean cried aloud with her continued astonishment at what was happening, he drove in even deeper with the thickly satisfying hardness of his cock. The burning walls of her pussy clasped down greedily around the fleshy cudgel, sucking it deeper and deeper as he persisted in the lewd and unnatural entry until he was finally embedded to the hilt and she could feel the obscene slap of his hairy balls right up into the crack of her parted buttocks.
Again she was filled, just as before. Again she experienced the exquisite flooding of relief, and she groaned and tossed beneath him, beginning her movements almost immediately upon the completion of the obscene penetration, reveling in the renewed stretching of her already violated cuntal passage as Bud began a heavy deep thrusting into her lust-expanded softness.
"Oooooh," Jean moaned in the abandon of her ecstasy, feeling the sudden waves of release starting almost immediately to flood through her belly and love-tortured loins, up through the swells of her breasts and the tingling nipples that tipped them, out over her perspiring goosebumped skin, down her thighs and calves to become little explosions leaving her body at the naked tips of her toes. She had been so close before and now it was going to happen. It was going to happen for the second time in one night and that was something she hadn't known even when she thought it had been good between her and Bill.
She was going to cum again!
And then, almost quicker than she could have believed, it was happening again. "I'm going to cum. I'm . . . IH'MMMM CUMMMMMMMINNNGGGGG! Oh my gosh! Bud! BUD! I'M CUMMMMINNNGGGG!"
She was crying and writhing in insane abandon, her voice shrill with overwhelming passion, her body going crazy with sheer physical madness. And then she really did think for a minute that she was losing her mind, for as her mouth opened to let out another of her banshee cries she found her lips suddenly touched by something at first soft and giving, full of an odor that smelled partly like her own, slick-feeling, hard and resilient just below the softness - a man's penis, she realized almost with bewilderment.
And then before she had time to close her mouth or object, Harry Smith shoved his cock brutally between her lips, beginning to move almost immediately as she floated on the last spasms of her second orgasm and began to strain for the inevitable third. He sped his newly rejuvenated instrument swiftly in and out between her teeth, ramming it brutally toward the reaches of her throat. Beneath him Jean coughed and sputtered, trying to get the technique down for this new brand of self-debasement, groaning around the violating shaft as her brother continued his own assault on her lust-driven loins.
And the two big male cocks filling her body were better than one. She had to admit it, as she felt the promise of newer and even greater ecstasy begin already to stir through her flesh. Her lips were stretched impossibly around Harry Smith's hard-driving cock, and the hopelessly filled inner passage of her seething vagina was churned and plundered ceaselessly by her brother's equally enormous instrument. It was perverse and it was exquisite, and a spark of masochism that she had so long denied sprang fully to life as she realized to what extent she was enjoying what was happening to her.
My God, she thought with joyful wonderment. I'm no better than a common streetwalker! But then, she figured she must always have been somewhat masochistic. Why else would she have ever let Bill treat her the way she had? But that was over forever. If she was going to suffer, she was going to damn well enjoy it!
The two men were enjoying themselves almost as much as she was. Harry's cock was getting harder and harder deep inside her mouth and throat and he was fucking rhythmically in and out as if he were fucking a cunt. Bud rode her lower body like a stallion riding a mare in heat. Dolores, positioned at the corner of the bed, was spurring both men on with little proddings of her fingers up between their buttocks against the forbidden openings of their own anuses.
But this still wasn't the limit, Jean realized in the delirious workings of her mind. There was a way she could be subjugated even further, and now she found herself longing for her subjugation to be complete. And in a sudden desperate move toward that end, she jerked her face to the side just as Harry was completing his back stroke. Before he could thrust forward, she forced his cock from her mouth. And the jaded and perverted art collector was astonished at the words which were addressed to him by the masochistically aroused brunette. "Do it to me in the back, Harry. Fuck me in the ass!"
His face flushed with excitement at what he was being asked to do, Harry rapidly climbed up on the bed. In the meantime Jean strained against her brother, pushing him upward with a powerful motion of one of her thighs to roll him over on his side, all the while holding his cock deep in her vagina with her warmly caressing inner muscles. As they fit themselves tightly back together. Dolores Smith moved quickly to assist, moving her hands gently down between Jean's automatically clenching buttocks to pull the two rounded cheeks apart in preparation for her husband, who was rolling in a reclining position on his side behind her.
"This is really going to be good and tight," the older blonde said. "You're gonna . . . you're gonna love it, Jean." God, she thought, how long had it been since she'd possessed such a warm tight little anus? The years slipped away faster than one imagined, but at least she and Harry weren't wasting any time. They could go to the grave with few regrets and if the devil took his due he would surely take it with all due respect. But she still couldn't help envying these two kids. They had it all ahead of them, all those wonderful, perverted years.
By now Harry was already worming his heavily swollen penis up between the young girl's reflexively clenching ass-cheeks, his hardened cock-head pressing relentlessly against the little nether ring of flesh. And between the two men she squealed and wriggled, trying to accomodate the second cock even as the first continued to plunge into the other of the two twin orifices of her loins. Then she grunted as Harry shoved forward with greater strength and it entered with a pop.
"AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Jean gasped, her rectum suddenly on fire as she felt Harry's iron-hard cock gliding forward all the way up inside her anal passage, rubbing smoothly across the thin separating membrane against the rising thickness of her brother's slow-fucking cock.
"Oh Bud," she moaned in her mingled pain and pleasure, clinging for comfort to her loving brother, smothering kisses over his face. She was open and loose all over. Both men were loving her, loving her the way she had for so long deserved to be loved. It seemed now that the effects of the tequila had almost completely worn off but the pounding desire that had been pent up inside her for so long sufficed to maintain the ecstasy of her ravishment and surrender as she was sandwiched and buffeted between the two greedily fucking men.
And as her desire resumed its ascension, her womb flowered even wider open and the tightly petalled cuntal slit flared to receive the shattering assault on her pussy while her buttocks quivered endlessly, the cock-filled channel of her rectum expanding joyfully against Harry Smith's deep hard thrusts.
"Ooooooooh!" Jean whimpered and groaned and the bedsprings squeaked in time to their fucking as she bounced and jerked between the two men. The sounds of the trio's deep straining grunts and groans filled the air of the guest room and the noise of their naked bodies slapping together resounded like the crackings of a whip on uncovered flesh.
"You hot little cunt!" Bud groaned into his sister's mouth. "Why didn't you tell me this was what you wanted?" He could feel the hot cum billowing up inside his balls as he continued his frenzied fucking into her now tightened cunt. He could feel the sliding movement of the other man's cock rubbing against his own deep inside his sister's slippery-smooth pussy and the increased sensation only added to his torment. He was ready to explode and he felt his control further slipping as his sister's mouth covered his and she sucked his tongue far down at his throat, as she squirmed her breasts hungrily against his chest and invited him to maul and paw with his hands at all the luscious curves of her voluptuously naked body.
Jean could feel her insides splitting painfully as the two cock-heads fucked together inside her loins, one from behind and the other from the front. Four hands were roving over her heated body, and if that didn't seem enough two more were added as Dolores climbed up on the bed with them, inserting a finger here and a thumb there, whatever she could find to play with. At last however she seemed content to situate herself at the foot of the bed, constantly ducking wildly flaying legs and feet. But from here she was able to see everything that went on and she could reach up between the squirming bodies to cup and cuddle the two men's balls and tickle teasingly the tight little membrane to only add to the maddening sensations being inflicted upon the hopelessly impaled girl. Refusing to be left out, she ran her fingers mercilessly over the private parts of not only the two men but Jean's thrashing body as well, vicariously enjoying their lust so intensely that she was sure that when her turn came she would cum at the slightest touch from any one of them.
"Oh fill me, fill me!" Jean groaned in delirium, knowing full well she was already filled to the hilt by the two largest and most powerful penises she had ever seen. She sucked her brother's tongue again hungrily into her mouth. She jerked and bucked and hunched in a melee of groping arms and legs, plunging cocks, slapping bellies and buttocks as the two giant cudgels were buried again and again in her softly yielding body.
And then almost simultaneously the two plundering penises began to spurt their hot seed up into her. They spurt load after load of cum inside her cunt and asshole that she was sure it would tear her to bits. She could feel the two white hot streams of male liquid shooting like burning fire up into her simultaneously ravaged orifices, ricocheting around inside her dilated cunt and anus like streams of hot lava overflowing from two erupting volcanoes. She answered them with her own terrible earthquake of delight, cumming in both places it seemed, cumming all over as the two separate sensations merged and were one sheer unquenchable flame of lust and delight and engulfing satisfaction.
She could never have believed it possible, but her anal passage was contracting in the spasms of climax almost as fast as her pussy. It was a compliment to her vaginal relief, intensifying the frenzied jerkings of her sensitive little clitoris as she milked thirstily at both the hard-ramming cocks, her loins drinking them dry of the surging male liquid.
Sensing what was happening, Dolores Smith could contain herself no longer. In a fit of passion and need she sprawled headlong on top of the writhing trio, using her fingers to open her tormented cuntal flesh to contact with their thrashing limbs, climaxing as gloriously as if it were she and not the other girl who was being fucked and being sodomized by two men at once.
The whole thing was almost more than Jean could stand. She felt as if she would go out of her mind, and the pinnacle achieved, seemed to go endlessly on and on. Then finally they all seemed to shudder of one accord, grinding to a twitching halt, collapsing together, gasping heavily to catch their breath.
For a moment Jean closed her eyes. She almost drifted off to sleep. Then she opened them again, leaning close to the face of her brother who still lay pressed tightly against her. "Bud? Are you asleep?"
"Not quite," he said, managing a tired happy smile.
"What do you think of me now?" she said.
"Think of you?"
"Yes. After what just happened. Do you feel ... Do you hate me?"
"Don't be ridiculous," he frowned. He didn't know what else to say. He didn't know what she meant.
"I'm going to leave Bill," she said matter of factly, not waiting for an answer.
Bud nodded. "Good. I'm glad to hear that. It's good news."
"Can I stay with you? For a while, anyway, I mean?"
Bud drew his hand slowly up over her naked breasts, his palm caressing softly on the little nipple that seemed almost magically to swell back to life. "Stay with me? How do you mean that?"
"I mean with you."
"Not as my sister?"
"Unless that's the only way I want you."
"You'll always be my sister, kid. But right now, and for a long time to come, that's the only way I don't want you."
"I guess it's wrong," said Jean.
He shrugged. "I guess so."
She bit her lip-and smiled. "Let's do it anyway. I'm going to call that bastard Bill." *
*
* Bill Thompson staggered sleepily to the phone and lifted the receiver to his ear. "Hello?"
"Hello, Bill. It's me," he heard his wife say. He should have known.
"Very interesting," he grunted. "Do you know what the hell time it is? What do you want at this time of night?"
"To tell you I won't be bothering you any more. I'm leaving you. In fact, except for a few old dresses, I've already left."
"Yeah. I bet," Bill said. The bitch. Did she think he was some kind of dolt? He felt like spitting in the receiver.
"You don't have to believe me. But it's true. Good night."
"Hey!" Bill gasped. "Hey wait!" He didn't know why, but he sensed something, or heard it, in her voice. It was almost as if it wasn't even the same woman he was talking to. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm leaving. I don't love you any more. I'm going to stay with Bud."
Bill thought it over for a moment. He was being suckered too fast. And in the first place, what the hell did he care if she did leave? The question was answered quickly enough: She was the only working member of the family. But that still wasn't any reason for him to panic. Part of what kept her in line was his go-to-hell attitude. He knew that, and he wasn't going to abandon that successful policy just because the boat was rocking a little bit.
"What, Bill?" she asked softly. "You said wait. What do you want to say?"
Bill forced out a raw little laugh. "Still don't feel like you're getting enough cock for your money's worth, hunh?"
"No, Bill. I don't."
"And you think that's going to change if you're living with Bud?"
"I know it is. It already has."
"Oh yeah?" Bill snarled, though his face was now creased with a distinct frown.
"Yes. Bud and I are lovers."
The receiver clicked at the other end of the line. Stunned, Bill Thompson let the receiver of his own phone drop from his hand. It hit the coffee table with a bang. He whistled slowly, feeling a churning in his stomach, his legs almost going weak beneath his body.
He knew it, goddamn it. He knew it. The bitch was telling the truth. She meant business. And he was out in the cold.
