When a basically hot-blooded and beautiful wife becomes tired of getting the cold shoulder from her prudish husband, there are, of course, various directions she can take in order to satisfy her understandable urge. Nadine Farrar thought she had chosen the best course when she consented to become the mistress of her husband's boss. But then the awakening needs of her two handsome and quickly developing teen-age sons became startlingly evident to the insatiable woman, and before long, she was teaching her boys tricks their father never would have dreamed possible! An incestuous dream had come true, and it was to spread quickly.
CHAPTER ONE
The whole depraved thing started at the Maxwell party. And how, just how, Nadine Farrar was to wonder in the tormented months to come, had she gotten so completely plowed in so short a time? How had that insane debacle on the Maxwell's back lawn ever happened?
Her brain spun crazily every time she conjured up the ugly pictures anew. Me and Wynn Maxwell alone together behind the house? With me half kneeling before the arrogant sonovabitch, my mouth stretched to breaking point? Sucking his cock like there was no tomorrow? Gulping down his sperm like it was vintage wine?
Times like those she thought she'd go insane. She wanted to hide, to claw out her eyes, to scream her shame at the top of her lungs.
The chemistry had been perfect; that had to be it. From the first moment that they'd arrived at the Maxwell house everything had fallen into place-like finely fitted lock tumblers.
First there was the fact that she'd been caged up at home for almost two weeks. Darren, her stick-in-the-mud husband, had been on one of his austerity kicks again, and she'd been bored silly. Then the fact that the Maxwells (Wynn and Lauri) were such charming hosts, that they surrounded themselves with exciting, slightly risque friends, contributed also. Add to that the three rum Manhattans which nondrinker Nadine allowed herself before super-cautious Darren shut her off, and you had all the ingredients for disaster.
At 10:30 p.m., when Wynn Maxwell, thirty-nine, tall, handsome, debonair, self-assured-all the things her husband was not-had suggested they all hit the basement rec room for some serious drinking and dancing, the gang (twelve couples by then) had hootingly agreed. Wynn had been sending her speculative, sly glances all evening long. And then-once downstairs in the dimly lit rumpus room-when he'd quickly moved in on her, had picked her as his first dance partner, her sexuality was further piqued.
He'd immediately launched into his innuendo-clogged lingo-par for his tomcat course-and she'd gone along with it. Kicks, her liquor-blurred brain had rung, just kicks. Why not? Give him as good as you get! Call his bluff once and for all!
The party had got wilder and wilder. Even fuddy-duddy Darren had loosened up by then. Slightly thick-tongued, he danced with Lauri Maxwell, Harriet Walsh, and Ronda Palmer in turn. By then Nadine-curvaceous, a petite five-one, her breasts still firm, taut, and pointy for a woman of thirty-six-was going from hand-to-hand; she very definitely felt like the belle of the ball.
All this was life-saving elixir for a sagging ego, for middle-aged fears that she was losing her looks, her sexual allure.
The evening moved on in a swift blur, time going by too fast, the party generating wild electricity the way some parties will. Gradually the drinks annihilated judgment, and she was young and desirable again; it was as if she were back in her early twenties, as if she were still up for grabs.
So what if Wynn kept whispering those flirty things into her ear, kept flattering her, kept telling her he'd had the hots for her for ages, and when were they going to get together? Just name the time and place, and he'd walk through hot coals, forsake home and children, just to get to her.
Nadine, blonde and fair, dressed in a black, ruffled party dress, her legs sleek in dark hose, her shoes new, modish, had felt like some she-devil; she'd brazenly strung Wynn along.
Thus, at 11:20, as she emerged from the upstairs bathroom, and found a wolfishly grinning Wynn Maxwell waiting for her in the deserted, gloomy hall, she was momentarily stunned; she didn't think to evade him, gain the safety of the noisy crowd downstairs. Instead, she let him pull her roughly, dominatingly into his arms, let him drive hungry, hard lips into hers. The grinding kiss made her legs wobbly, ignited a hot yearning in her cunt. Her heart thundered, and though she knew she should shove Wynn away, she couldn't. The sensations, so exciting, so delicious, made her feel young and lovely again. This growing itch and constriction in her belly, in her pussy! Suddenly her panties felt like they were soaked through!
God, dear God, she moaned inwardly. I feel like I want to get my hands down there, to work myself off here and now!
"Outside, baby," he growled when he broke the dizzying kiss. "We can't do any good in here. Out in the garden. Nobody'll miss us. Please, baby! I've wanted to get at you all night. I can't control myself. Didn't you feel me? When I pushed my ... prick ... up against you?" Nadine's heart kicked, her face felt hot, flushed, as if a fever had overtaken her. And she knew she should gasp, slap him, at least scold him for his vulgar talk. But she did no such thing. Instead she melted even more willingly into his arms, felt her cunt spasm anew. "Yes, Wynn, I felt ... you," she breathed.
"And you didn't mind? You liked it?"
"I don't know, Wynn. It just made me feel all funny inside. I liked it and I didn't like it. I didn't pull away, did I?"
He smiled exultantly, drew her closer. "You didn't, angel," he sighed huskily. "You sure's hell didn't. Oh, please! Outside? I swear, I won't get Darren sore." And with that his tongue stealthily invaded her mouth, where it fluttered like an evil serpent, further hypnotized Nadine. Their mouths still locked, he drew her slowly after him, until, abruptly, she sensed a door slamming somewhere in the distance.
Then they were going down some shadowed stairs, her heels tapping softly on the treads, the balmy breeze of the late-June night playing tantalizingly along her bare back. Whimpering, she allowed Wynn to draw her into deeper, all-enshrouding darkness, to lure her farther and farther from the house. The sounds of music became very faint. As they finally stopped behind some tall, dense, lilac bushes, found a stone wall perhaps four feet high hidden there, it seemed they'd escaped the whole world, were safely alone, left to their own evil devices.
Then, as Wynn gathered her in his arms, planted a kiss on her lips, as his hands fled up and down her back, as they flirted with the cheeks of her bottom, she sank into an even more willful trance. Her breasts actually ached; her cunt was on fire, a living, breathing, screaming entity in its own right. She found herself moaning, grinding her pelvis against Wynn's cock.
Heavenly, heavenly, she seethed inwardly. So good to let yourself go for once! How long since any man, even Darren, has crawled all over me like this, taken complete, masterful charge'? God! Those feelings! Those dirty, delicious feelings! I feel like I'm on fire down there, like I'll wet my pants any moment if I don't have She shuddered, caught herself. If you don't have what? she challenged. Nadine! You don't actually mean you'd go all the way with Wynn! That you'd spread for him, let him-fuck you! You, who's never let another man-other than Darren-and Brett-touch you?
Baffled, she fought to summon up strength enough to fight Wynn off, to tear his bruising lips from hers, to yank his restless hands off her rear. But as quickly, all will, all good intentions were gone. She felt like hot butter was gathering, building inside her belly, hot butter that would, at any moment, break the dam, run out of her wildly constricting cunt, slither down her legs, ruin her pretty stockings and shoes.
And, God, she knew it was impossible to have this man fuck her now-there just wasn't time; it was altogether too risky-but wasn't there something? Couldn't she at least have a little taste? Something to relieve this gut-bubbling heat in her belly-in her red-hot snatch?
Thus she surrendered to Wynn, welcomed his wet, sucking kisses, savored the feel of his huge cock against her belly and thighs-against her beseeching cunt. She gloried in the slide and clench of his hands on her ass; she actually wished she was naked so she could feel his flesh on her flesh.
Don't, oh, don't, Nadine! one side of her nature importuned desperately. Stop him! Now, before it's too late!
Something, oh, please let me have something to make this intolerable itch in my vagina go away, railed the erotically aroused side of her psyche. I've got to have some relief, or I'll go out of my mind! I'll start screaming, raise the whole neighborhood!
It was then, as if apprised 'of the conflicting emotions warring inside her, that Maxwell smugly insinuated a hand between their bodies, began tweaking first one, then another, swollen, fiery nipple through her clothes. He gloried in the way she gasped, in the way her body bucked as he pinched the rubbery nipples harder, pulled them away from her lush boobs. Then his hand slid down between her legs, caught the whole of her puffy, hairy cunt, began to knead it through her skirt. And when Nadine slumped in his arms, collapsed her knees to give him even greater access, when she mewled piteously in her throat, he knew he had a live one-a real winner.
Christ! he marveled. Who'd ever believe it? The town virgin? Oh, God, why didn't I try this fuck-happy bitch long before now. Talk about hot!
Grinding, galling frustration hit him then. But how can I fuck her without putting both our asses in a sling? They're most likely looking for us this minute. God, I just can't!
New fear gripped him. But if not now, when? His hand groped more feverishly, more demandingly in her sodden cunt, and Nadine's answering bleats turned him inside out.
If I can just work her skirt up, pull her pants down far enough to shove my cock into her. Thank God, she isn't wearing a girdle-just that sexy little garter belt.
But even this solution was doomed, for now, suddenly, Nadine pulled back, tugged his hand away. "No, Wynn, no," she rasped, her regret as unmistakably agonized as his. "Don't, please don't. Stop now, before it's too late."
"But you don't want to stop any more than I do. You want to fuck, you want cock, just as much as I'm dying to slam it into you. Isn't that true?" She fell back, whined and shuddered, tried to force up resolve. "Wynn, don't ask me that. Don't talk like that. I don't know ... I don't...."
He shook her viciously. "You do know, damn you! You know you want to fuck! You want to be fucked! Say it! Say you want to be fucked!"
Her brain whirled, and a red, scorching haze formed behind her eyes. This man-what's he doing to me? "Yes," she grated, "I do, I do! I do want to be fucked! But we can't. We can't take any chances. We've been gone long enough as it is." Her voice faltered. "Oh, Wynn, darling! Isn't there something?"
He shuddered, groaned. "I don't know, I don't know!" he snarled. "All I know is that I want to fuck you!"
"I know, I know," she said. "I want you too!" She fell into his arms, trembling and sobbing; she felt more desolate than she'd ever felt before. Raw, red lust clawed her guts, and then she knew what she must do.
Like a zombie, Nadine pulled away from him, stared into his eyes. Her hand dropped between his legs, clenched his engorged cock, bore down cruelly, made Wynn gasp. "I know," she sighed thickly. "I know what we-what I can do."
"Good God, Nadine," he said, stunned by the depraved light in her gaze. "What are you talking about?"
"I-I'll...." She faltered, let her hands speak for her. Now her fingers slowly began running his fly down. "I'll ... I'll s-suck you. I'll take you in my mouth. Something ... I've never done for any man ... not even Darren. Don't think I'm terrible, Wynn. It's just because we ... you ... I ... have to have something! Please! Let me! I have to, or I'll go insane!"
He watched in goggle-eyed disbelief as the zipper snarled down; as Nadine, with self-conscious, yet determined motions, dug inside his trousers, untangled his cock from his shorts, exposed it to the starlight.
"But how?" he blurted stupidly.
Nadine's eyes rolled insanely as her need overwhelmed her. She knew that, no matter what, she must see the obscene thing through. "That wall," she hissed. "If you got up there, sat on the edge ... I could stand here ... do it that way." Her voice became plaintive, pleading. "If I bend my knees a little ... it'll be just right. Please, Wynn, climb up."
Woodenly, still not believing it was really happening, that the high-and-mighty Mrs. Darren Farrar would shortly suck him off, take his come down her lovely throat, Wynn mounted the wall. He turned slowly, almost embarrassedly, hitched his buttocks so his legs were splayed, so his great, slippery, dripping dick jutted out at the woman's face. He thought the way her eyes widened, the way her lips worked impatiently was one of the most beautiful, most exciting things he'd ever seen. "Oh, Christ, Nadine," he said. "You really mean it ... you really want to ... to suck me off!"
She said nothing, but her eyes gave him the answer. The bitch, he mused, the sweet bitch! She's really gone! She wants a face full of cock so bad she's pissing her pants! He quickly undid his belt, dragged his pants halfway down.
Nadine froze momentarily. She couldn't believe this was happening, that it was actually she who crouched before this man, who studied his prick so brazenly. Her panties were absolutely flooded with her juices. If I could just have that beautiful prick stuck into me! If I could have something to wrap my cunt around!
Still she stared, was forced to conclude that, as pricks go, Wynn Maxwell's wasn't anything special. Darren's was undoubtedly larger. But what good was a huge cock if its owner didn't know how to use it, if he was stingy with it? What good was a big cock if it didn't excite her, make her die with passion, like this one was doing at this very moment?
Dreamily, as if possessed of a will all its own, her right hand drifted out, grabbed Wynn's prick. Pain skewered her cunt as her fingers twined around it, as she felt its hardness, the thrilling bulge of the glans. Dazedly, all embarrassment gone, she worked Wynn's thick foreskin back and forth. She appraised it, savored the way his cock-eye spread, winked at her, as if anticipating the hot, juicy bath it would soon receive.
It was the first uncircumcised prick Nadine had ever seen, and she gravely worked the foreskin back and forth. She moved closer, let her left hand gently squeeze Wynn's balls, the sound of his wheezing moans a whiplash of lust.
"Suck, baby," he called in creaky tones. "Oh, please! I'm dying for it! Suck it! Suck my cock!"
Still Nadine dallied. A faint bemused smile on her lips, she continued working the foreskin back and forth; she caressed and tickled his swollen testicles, driving Wynn insane, and he reached for Nadine, tried forcing her lovely face toward his throbbing cock.
But she avoided him, continued studying his cock. Then, in an utterly charming gesture, she extended her index finger, swiped up a globule of his juice. Then she popped her finger into her mouth; she sucked it with closed eyes, her expression blissful.
Again the finger came out, again she sampled his taste. Can this be me? she asked herself. Actually tasting his oil? Actually liking it, wanting more, wanting the real thing? Oh, God, I thought it would taste awful. But there's no taste at all!
I've got to suck it! Now! I've got to have it in my mouth. I want it!
She collapsed to her knees, moved closer to the magnificent cock. Her tongue darted out, repeatedly stabbed at Wynn's cock-eye, gathering confidence with each new thrust. Wynn gurgled, thrashed, like someone was threading a red-hot needle down his cock. And then, as Nadine became bolder, flattened her tongue, worked it against the underside of his corona, as she swirled it around the whole dome of his prick, he fell apart.
"Take it, baby!" he choked. "Take it in! In your mouth! I can't stand it. I can't wait any more!"
And now her mouth opened completely. She tugged back Wynn's foreskin as far as it would go, feathered her tongue to the velvety point, tried inserting it into his cock-eye. A moment later her head moved forward, and his meat slithered into her mouth, careened deeper and deeper on each sucking, twisting, milking stroke. Only when it hit her throat, made her gag, did she back off.
Her elbows forced his legs wider. Both hands groped his testicles, held them in a cruel, kneading grip. Her gulping, sucking mouth pistoned up and down; her tongue swirled and lapped on his glans with every upstroke, drove the stunned man to even greater frenzies. He gasped and choked, fought to keep from howling at the top of his voice.
"Oh, God, Nadine," he hissed. "Good, good, so fucking good! You angel, you darling!" He went even more berserk as he felt his sperm bubble, crowd up into his pipe. "You gorgeous little cocksucker! Go, go, go! Get it out! Get my come out! Yow, baby, yow!"
The crude words, the demeaning names didn't repulse Nadine in the least. If anything they increased her insane lust, and she sucked his fat, choking pecker more wildly; she fought to get more and more of it down her greedy throat. Cocksucker, she said to herself, her cunt awash, a sensation similar to orgasm stirring there. Her anus tightened, and her guts churned. You dirty little cocksucker! Proud little cocksucker! Abruptly the vile words became praise of the highest order. Suck it, you dirty bitch! Suck cock!
This last flurry of self-degradation was what finally brought Maxwell down. He was amazed that he'd lasted as long as he had. Novice cocksucker Nadine might be, but she made up in dedication for what she lacked in finesse.
At that last moment he opened his eyes, stared down at the lust-mad woman who crouched between his legs, her eyes rapt, her cheeks puffing in and out, her beautiful face gorged with cock. Nadine Farrar's sucking my cock! Nadine Farrar's gonna take my gunk down her prissy throat! Look at that little pig suck!
That did it! Now his cock began to buck and spurt in Nadine's mouth; a white-hot poker was being run up his ass, prodding his sap out the end of his cock. His hands became cruel, jammed her more sadistically to his screaming hank; he wanted to shove it right down to her heart!
"Here it is, baby!" he grated fiercely. "Right in your mouth! Right down your dirty, cocksucking throat! Ooooh, ooooh, oooh! Suck, damn you! Suck it all out!"
It seemed to Nadine that he'd never stop spitting into her mouth, coating her tonsils with his thick, hot sperm. But she didn't mind; she wasn't complaining in the least. The more bestial he was with her, the more depravedly he abused her, the more she liked it. He could have pissed in her mouth just then, and she would have welcomed the degradation. It was all a revelation of the untapped depths of her sexuality. The potential for depravity, for wallowing, she possessed! And she'd never dreamed And still the fat, suffocating cock prodded her throat. She sucked, milked fanatically. And only when the defeated pod shrank and retreated in her mouth, when no amount of siphoning would draw forth more of his sweet seed, did her lunatic compulsion fade.
At last she was in Wynn's arms. And while she put his cock back into his trousers, zipped him, he kissed her, hungrily swabbed her mouth with his tongue, a thing that endeared him to Nadine. For had he turned away from her, treated her like a despicable slut, she couldn't have endured it.
"Again, baby," he choked when finally they broke the kiss. "We gotta get together again. That was no one shot. You got yours coming, and I intend to see that you get it. I swear, Nadine! I won't rest until I can have you again."
But then, abruptly the passionate exchange was interrupted. "Did you hear someone out there?" Wynn said, jerking upright. "We'd better get back right now." Seconds later, as they parted at the steps, Wynn heading for the basement, covering for her while she went to the bathroom, he said, "Later, baby. You are just too damned much!"
Nadine, moving in a trance, hardly able to think straight, repaired her face as best she could. She rinsed out her mouth, staring at her reflection in the mirror with intermixed dismay and loathing. How could I have sunk so low?
And even though there was no outward trace of her transgression, she felt guilty and low and cheap; she was sure that her sins must stand out like livid scabs, that everyone would certainly know the shameful thing she'd done. It took every bit of strength to force herself from the bathroom to rejoin the party.
Wynn, at the bar, sent her a furtive, smug smile, nodded to the other end of the room, where Lauri, j his own wife, was engaged in coquettish conversation with Darren. Nadine flanked them as casually as she could.
"Oh, Nadine, darling," Lauri, a gorgeous, thin, raven-haired specimen of thirty-five said as she ; came up, "there you are. We wondered what happened to you. Did you fall in?"
Nadine forced a smile. "No, Lauri. A little accident with a strap." She sent Darren a crooked smile. "Having fun, honey? Looks like Lauri managed to keep you amused." She froze inside as Lauri regarded her at length, suspicion in her tigress eyes.
"Yeah," Darren replied unenthusiastically, "having a real ball. But it is getting late. We've got a big day tomorrow. Shouldn't we be going soon?"
Despite Lauri's protests to the effect that the party was just getting started, Darren was adamant. Not that Nadine wanted to stay. Hardly. She wanted to be away from Wynn Maxwell, away from the memory of the abomination she'd just performed.
Now as she playfully kissed Darren-momentarily forgetting where her mouth had just been-her guilt a rushing, oppressive thing, he said, "You smell! funny, baby. Some new kind of perfume you're using?"
She started, went blank. "That's right, honey," she finally managed. "A new perfume. Glad you noticed." Then she was truly desperate to escape, to be back in her own home!
Five minutes later they were outside, getting into their car.
Again, the guilt oppressive, Nadine was smashed with compulsion to make up for her sins, to smother her husband with love, a love which she had, less than fifteen minutes ago, heinously defiled. She affected a cute, boozy act, and cuddled up to Darren, kissed his face, ran her hands across his chest, down between his legs, where she played with his limp prick shamelessly. Then she hunched down on the front seat, and attempted to chew her husband's cock through his trousers.
Darren Farrar jerked, cursed, thrust his wife away. "What the hell, Nadine?" he rasped. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Party, party," she slurred, deliberately emphasizing her tipsy state. "Just wanted to please my baby. Hear tell some men just go ape when their women do that to 'em." She squirmed against him, mauled his cock again, was pleased to find it stiffening slightly. "Oooh, baby, I feel so funny. All naughty and hot inside. That booze, I guess. You got a little something for me tonight? Mmmm ... it looks like you have, honey. Daddy like Mommy?"
"Don't act so ridiculous, Nadine," he snorted, embarrassed by her outrageous overtures, radical departure from her normal prissiness. "Why don't you wait until we get home? Let those things take care of themselves?"
Shortly they swung into their garage. Again driven by an overpowering desire to throw up a smokescreen, Nadine groped his privates, dropped her mouth on his rapidly thickening penis. Again Darren pushed her away.
Then they were going into the house, Nadine ahead, Darren bringing up the rear. Undaunted, Nadine reached back, brazenly handled his cock through his trousers, tried to open his zipper.
"Party, party," she snickered. "Ooooh, honey, wait'll I get you in bed. Mommy needs her tubes blown out tonight."
"Nadine! What's got into you?"
"Nothing, yet, lover," she slurred, suggestively wriggling her rear. "But just give me five minutes. Something'll get into me. Something very nice." Darren shrugged, waggled his head disgustedly, determined-too late-that he'd keep closer watch on his wife the next party they attended.
CHAPTER TWO
Very quickly, floating through the house like some demented wraith, Nadine Farrar checked the room her two sons, Phil, sixteen, and Steve, seventeen, shared. Though it was only 12:30, they were both home, each asleep in his own bed. Staring down at their faces, Nadine was moved. Remembrance of her sick lapse with Wynn Maxwell storming back-depraved contrast to the peaceful scene-she was smitten with galling guilt and remorse. In the name of God, she raged, how did it happen? If Phil and Steve should ever learn what a rotten slut their mother is! If Darren ever finds out!
Even as drunk, as emotionally rocky as she was, Nadine froze, made a dedicated vow to her slumbering sons that they'd never find out, that she'd die before ever giving in to such depravity again.
And yet, fervent as her resolve was, she couldn't deny the quick, slashing heat that filled her belly now, as, once more, she envisioned herself crouched before Wynn on that garden wall, her lips stretched salaciously, her mouth careening up and down his cock. She could almost hear Wynn's wheezing cries, smell his pungent, sweaty crotch, taste the slippery excretions of his cock as she greedily sucked it.
She moaned, clung to the doorjamb for support. Can it be? Even here, in my sons' bedroom, with my husband waiting for me? Can it be that I'm still so helpless? That I still want it? That I still want to be fucked as desperately as I did in that garden?
But still, tracking like some wounded animal as she returned to their bedroom, she managed to delude herself. It's for Darren, she rationalized, for my darling husband. To show him how sorry I am, to repay him for forgiving, for still keeping me! If I have it with him-if we fuck-it will wash away my sins; it will purify me!
She was grateful to find, upon groping her way into their dark bedroom, that Darren was already huddled beneath the sheets. Now he wouldn't see her lust-drenched crotch, her soiled panties, her sticky thighs where her juices had dribbled down while she'd sucked Wynn Maxwell off. Moving like some automaton, she tore away her party gown and slip, undid her silky, sheer brassiere. She balled her panties as they came off, swabbed the dripping folds of her cunt with them.
The panties were disposed of with quick repugnance, and she attacked her garter belt, peeled off her pumps. With no further delay, she reached the bed, scurried under the covers. "Darling, darling," she sighed, cuddling close, her hands instantly running up and down Darren's strong, hard shoulders and back, "it's so good to be home, in our own bed again. Oh, I love you, Darren! I really do! I want you tonight. I hope you want me just as much."
But still, she couldn't help but feel mild resentment at the fact that, despite her overtures in the car, Darren hadn't come to bed naked, but was, instead, in his pajamas. He turned onto his back. "The boys?" he grunted. "They all right?"
"Yes," she said, stifling irritation, "they're fine. Both fast asleep. They'll never hear us. I closed their door. And ours, too." Again the wicked fires seared her pussy. "I need you, darling. I need you so badly. All that drinking ... I'm terribly worked up!"
Darren chuckled insolently. "You really got it bad, huh, baby? I haven't seen you like this in a long, long time. Usually it's me who gets like that, while you play stone virgin on me."
She grew impatient. "I know, baby. I'm sorry. I try, honest I do, but sometimes I'm just not in the mood." Her cunt constricted, and she hissed with need. "Kiss me, touch me ... play with me! I need you so!"
"Maybe we oughta go to more parties. What've those Maxwells got that gets you so worked up? What's Wynn Maxwell got? You two were doing some real scorching dancing tonight, baby."
"Were we?" she tensed slightly; "I didn't notice. After all ... your boss. I couldn't very well offend him ... refuse to dance with him, could I?" She knew quick panic. Did Darren suspect anything? Hoping to distract him, she invaded his pajama trousers, wound her fingers around his half erect phallus, began to fondle and squeeze it.
And before she could catch herself, she thought, The second cock I've had in my hand tonight. Instantly a hot spasm ripped her from asshole to brain. Nadine! Don't! But it was easier said than done, and now, as her nonstop fondlings brought Darren's prick to full erection, she sank back, savored the lustful sensations.
Her thumb and forefinger worked the velvety, warm cockhead assessingly. She found herself wishing Darren wasn't circumcised; it had been so evilly delightful to slither Wynn's foreskin back and forth. But there had been another, more basic difference. Wynn had been instantly aroused, and his love oil had flowed copiously. It was condemnation of Darren's feeble sex drive that his glans remained dry, that only after repeated squeezings and pumpings was she able to coax a stingy globule of his oil forth.
The lust returned, and she whimpered piteously, so intense was the cunt-wringing desire she felt. And lapsing into a fuck trance to end all fuck trances, she was possessed of the most intense compulsion to let herself go wild. And more directly, to do for her dear husband all the degenerate things she'd done for his boss and friend, Wynn Maxwell.
She clawed Darren's pajamas open, bared his genitals, his chest, driving her body, her hands, her naked belly and breasts against his hard body. I will, she raged to herself, I will! I want to suck his cock, too! If I could do it for a stranger, then certainly-for Darren! For my dear, sweet husband! Now that I know what it's like! Now that I know how thrilling it is to suck a man's cock!
Abruptly the spell was shattered by Darren, who pushed her away. "Oh, wow, baby," he said, "you are in a state, aren't you? Calm down, huh? I've never seen you like this before!"
The hot, red blur faded and Nadine's eyes regained partial focus. Anger suffused her. What kind of an old-maid creep was this anyway? A man who'd jar her back to reality, just when she was really getting going?
It was here that Darren truly put his foot into it. "That new perfume of yours, honey," he muttered. "I don't think I like it after all. Got kind of a sickish smell to it."
Rage filled her. You don't like my perfume, huh, baby? That's tough, really tough. You dumb bastard! What would you do if you knew it was another man's come you were sniffing? Goddamn you, Darren! I'll teach you! I'll teach you to put me down! I'll teach you to take me for granted!
"I'm sorry to hear that, Darren," she forced the words. "I'll make a point not to wear it again." Nevertheless, she bore him back onto the pillow, drove her lips more determinedly into his, even went so far as to plunge her tongue into his mouth, another new departure for her. Don't like my perfume, huh? Well, here's more! And more! And more! Honey, if you just knew what Mama's dirty tongue's been doing-what it'll do for you if you'll just let it Again she ground her belly against his pelvis, actually rocked her cunt on his hard thigh. She mangled his cock, let her tongue vibrate and scour his throat even more wantonly. She took one of his hands, guided it to her crotch, inserted one of his fingers in her crack herself. Simultaneously she knew a disconcerting thought: If only that was Wynn's finger! If only he could be here with me now! He wouldn't need lessons. He wouldn't be hanging back like some damned eunuch!
Her trance intensified. Now it was Wynn she writhed and panted with; she was crazy with desire to take up where she'd left off, to suck the living hell out of his cock-out of Wynn's delicious cock!
"Please, darling?" she whimpered, truly gone now. Too long-too much of my life wasted. A woman, a red-blooded woman! I want to do the things a real woman, a hot, passionate woman does for her man! "Let me? I want to so desperately."
"Let you?" the stupid man gulped. "Let you what?"
"You know, darling!" she snapped. "In the car. When I tried to go down ... between your legs?" She slid downward on his body, her lips leaving a wet trail on his chest, on his stomach. The raunchy odor of his balls and prick carried to her, and she grunted, forced herself to go ahead.
But Darren forestalled her. "Nadine!" he yelled incredulously. "What's gotten into you? You don't think I'd actually permit that, do you? Stop, baby! You're drunk; you don't know what you're doing. You'll be sorry tomorrow. You'll hate yourself. And hate me in the bargain...."
She sank into an even more frenzied, erotic hysteria. "Please, please, darling," she blubbered, still fighting to work her head to his crotch, his musty cock smell maddening her. "Let me do it! Let me kiss you ... lick you ... suck you! I love you Darren! I want to do that for you. I've waited too long as it is."
"No, Nadine! I forbid it!"
She groaned, snorted, fought to break his grip, using his hard, throbbing penis like some kind of a handle. "Please, Darren. The world's changed. Nothing's abnormal, forbidden any more. Haven't you heard of the sexual revolution?" She fought harder. "And I want mine. I want to see what it's like. Please, Darren, you don't have to do a thing. I'll take care of it all."
She was dragged away from the taunting prick with a frustrated squeal. "Darren, oh, please. Let me, let me! I want to, really I do...."
"No, Nadine!" he growled, flinging her down onto her back, pinning her with his arms. "It's sick, it's perverted. No wife of mine's ... If you want me regular ... if you want me to ... make love to you...."
"Say it, why don't you?" a vengeful, maddeningly frustrated Nadine snarled. "What are you afraid of? You think the words are gonna hurt us? You want to fuck me? Plain English! Say it, damn you!"
Darren, stunned, at a loss as to how to cope with this totally new version of Nadine, decided that perhaps it would be best if he got things over with. Once a cock was buried in her, she'd regain her senses. Deliberately brutal, he forced her legs, held her down. Moments later he was crouched over her, fighting to keep a writhing, spitting Nadine stationary long enough to drive his swollen, hard rod between her legs.
Suddenly only fucking rampaged in his brain. Nadine's weird, wanton behavior didn't register in the least now. And if he didn't bury his sperm-bloated bone in her this very minute, he'd explode prematurely, splash his molten, creamy seed all over Nadine, the bed-everything!
"Please, please, baby...." he groaned in desperate tones. "Lay still. Let me get it into you. Let me have it."
"No, damn you!" Nadine seethed, feeling cheapened by his refusal to allow her to suck his prick. "Not that way! Don't come prissying around me! Ask for it like a man! Tell me what you want in plain English. In good old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon!"
"Nadine, don't ... I can't. Just let me come inside-"
"Say it, you goddamned pansy! The words! Tell me you want to fuck me!" It seemed to her all at once that if she could wrest the gutter language from him she'd have won at least partial victory. "Tell me how badly you want to shove your prick into me." She became even more delirious; any louder and she'd wake the boys. "Say it, say it!"
"All right, Nadine," he croaked, stunned by his wife's weird behavior. "I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you so terribly."
"Say it," she spat, "Like you meant it!"
"God, baby!" He fought to force guttural conviction into his voice. "Let me! Let me fuck you! Let me shove my prick into you."
"Into my what?" she prompted.
"Into your vagina ... your pussy...."
"Say it, you goddamned prude!"
"Into your ... cunt!"
"Into my dirty, rotten cunt," she prompted, the sound of the vile words spilling from her husband's lips driving her into an even more depraved fit. "Into your dirty, rotten cunt," he repeated. "Your dirty prick! In my dirty cunt! In my hot cunt!"
"My dirty prick," he parroted, completely lost now. "In your dirty cunt! In your hot cunt!" Suddenly Nadine acted like a hot wedge had been driven up her, and had her life depended upon it, she couldn't have kept her legs clamped shut. She wanted cock-hard, raping, stretching, brutal cock-slammed into her crack. She'd go insane if she didn't have cock!
Then her fingers were pulling back her pussy lips; they scrambled to pilot that huge torpedo home. And as the great, slippery beast slithered into her, she groaned sluttishly, gratefully. She raised her legs, wrapped them around her husband's back, drove him deeper, ever deeper-straight into her harlot's heart.
At that moment remembrance of Wynn Maxwell tumbled back. But instead of shaming her, his image exalted her. At least you gave me this, Wynn, she rhapsodized. You turned me on! You made me hot, hotter than I've ever been before in my whole fucking life! And God knows, Darren won't fuck me like you would have, but at least it's something! If I can't have you, can't have your pecker reaming me out, I can have this; I can pretend it's you!
"Ram it!" she gurgled thickly, drumming her heels on Darren's back. "Ram that prick into me! Up me, up me! Oooh, Darren, darling. It's good, good! It feels so huge, so fat, so fucking long! I feel like someone dropped me on a fence post! Go, you fucker! Fuck me! Fuck your wife. Fuck your filthy, whorish wife!"
She yipped and crooned, swiveled and bucked on the avenging rod. Heavenly, heavenly, she raged, sinking deeper into degenerate torpor, there's nothing like it. A man's cock up me, scraping me raw, plundering, soothing that terrible itch, that maddening heat and yearning. Ah, baby, ahhh, ahhh, ahhh! Yes, like that! Hard and fast and cruel! Fuck me!
Then the libertine thoughts came tumbling out, formalized themselves in equally libertine words, words that had never passed Nadine's lips before. "Fuck it, fuck it, baby! You big-pricked bastard! Deep, deep, deep! God! Oh, deep! You cock, you delicious cock! Fuck! Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck! Fuck m-e-e-e! Fuck me silly!"
She felt the first stirrings of orgasm, a tightening of her skull, careening like hot electricity down her spine, lodging in her molten, volcanic cuntal cavity.
Dirty, she raged, I've never felt so dirty in all my life! I want to say everything, do everything! Her brain felt like it was frying. Wynn, Wynn, she bewilderedly importuned, you're to blame! What have you done to me? What have you turned me into?
"It feels wonderful," the dazed Darren choked, amazed at his own verbal bravado as he slammed himself even more viciously into her, as he virtually put her through the headboard with each new thrust. "You're all hot and tight and greasy! Oh, baby, baby ... it's good, so fucking good! You're killing me, killing me!"
His stunning words flung her screaming and floating and tumbling into that bubbling cauldron of orgasm. Her body thrashed in pagan, reflexive cadence, and she fucked back at him, savoring the aching crash of their pelvises, the cervix-slashing bottoming of his cock. The heat grew in her vagina, sped upward in her body, to her brain, until it seemed her eyes would boil in their own sockets.
Now Nadine mewlingly sucked his tongue; her legs wrenched, splayed to breaking point. She was reincarnated, became nothing but a great, yawning hole, a hole into which all the men of the world could shove their cocks at the same time. Her entire vaginal passage began to contract and release, contract and release, like a milking mouth, like a great, man-eating maw. The spasms grew quicker, harder, more soul-disintegrating with each new come and go of his pillaging prick.
Then she teetered on the precipice of the most beautiful, most gut-ripping, total climax she'd ever known in her whole life! "Oh, my darling," she grated, suddenly sorry for the hell she'd just put her beloved husband through, "I love you. Ooooh, I do love you. I love you so much. Oh, God, fuck me! Fuck me with your beautiful cock! Your beautiful, fat cock! I want it inside me forever. Never take it out. Fuck me all night if you want. Deeper, oh, deeper! Fuck me hard, hard!"
Then it began to happen, and Nadine turned utterly pagan. "It's here, darling, it's here! I'm coming, coming! Hot and hard! Oh, fuck it, fuck it! Fuck my cunt! OH, BABY!"
But if Nadine thought her inept, greedy husband would honor her pleas for a skillful, eternal, all-night fuck, she was to be disappointed. For now Darren's cock only raped and tore and reamed. There was no finesse whatsoever. His thick, bestial grunts revulsed her. He was heavy, suffocating on her, totally oblivious of her pleasure. The beast was intent only on his own animalistic seizure of pleasure.
"I'm coming, baby!" he called, his voice shrill, sick, and demented. "I'm coming! I'm coming in your red-hot little cunt! Oh, God, God ... Sweet Jesus, am I coming! Ah-aah-ahhh!"
CHAPTER THREE
Afterward Nadine sobbed helplessly, half in frustration, half in remorse. And though she was shamed at the way she'd just revealed her innermost wantonness and depravity to her husband, she wept just as much for the fact that at that most crucial of all moments, Darren had again failed her.
Even more tragic was the way that Darren-equally as shamed as she was-now denied her the comfort of his arms, his kisses, his understanding. For immediately upon finishing, he pulled off her as though she were contaminated. He lay on the far side of the bed, his back to her-a formidable barrier erected between them.
She fought to quell her sobs, to speak. "Forgive me, darling," she pleaded. "I don't know what happened, why I got that way. I'm drunk, I guess. I didn't mean to say those things ... to offer to do that ... thing ... for you...."
His voice was edged with fury and disgust. "Don't, Nadine! I don't want to talk about it. Haven't we done enough? Haven't we sunk as low as we can go? If you aren't shamed sick to your stomach, then I am."
"Darren, please ... I can explain. If we talk this out, if we try to get to the bottom of it-"
"Nadine!" he snarled. "No more, do you hear! Perhaps tomorrow. We'll have regained our senses by then."
She lay sniffling, fighting to stifle her weeping, all the while regarding the accusing bulk of Darren's back. Gradually her cries diminished, and angry resentment-a sensation bordering on hatred-grew in her brain. And then, when she heard those first rumbling snores, realized that the unfeeling brute had fallen asleep, her outrage exploded.
She thought to wake him, to demand a showdown, to actually flaunt her vile escapade with Wynn Maxwell before his stupid, gaping eyes. She thought that would be the ultimate vengeance for the contempt he'd just bestowed upon her. Wouldn't he squirm and groan and bellow then! If he knew that his wife had sucked his boss' cock less than an hour ago! That his pure, sanctimonious wife had sucked his boss off, had actually loved it?
Nothing came of her rage, however. Gradually she regained control, saw the utter folly of her vengeful thoughts. Their marriage was in bad enough shape as it was-shock tactics like that would surely bring it crashing down. She sighed, groaned, thrashed on the bed, yearned for release. But sleep would not come; her brain was a writhing pit of vipers.
She whimpered, not wanting to face that damning truth, for it crushed her to recognize that she-just as much as Darren-was responsible for the cold, passionless thing their marriage had become these past few years. At least tonight's fiasco had taught her that much.
Suddenly her brain reeled, veered to a seemingly irrelevant focus. She was remembering her life ten years ago, remembering a time when Darren didn't even exist for her. She was back with her first husband again.
And where is Brett these days? Whatever happened to that cheating, skirt-chasing bastard? Funny, I can hardly remember what he looked like, what his voice sounded like. But, God, how I hated him when I found out about him and that trampy Cheryl he was seeing behind my back! She muffled a tired giggle. And now? It hardly registers at all now. It hardly matters at all.
It had been the same story with Darren. His first wife-Marcine-was owner of some very hot, steamy pants, of some extremely restless thighs. Home-cooking hadn't been enough for her. When he'd followed her to a motel, broken in on her and her two-bit lover, it had got very messy indeed.
A year later Darren's path had crossed Nadine's. There had been quick attraction. Besides, there had been other considerations: Darren's boy, Steve, needed a mother; Nadine's boy, Phil, needed a father. Both survivors of the same plague, there had been common ground. Thus, vowing that they'd never let infidelity shatter their marriages again, Darren and Nadine had been married. Sex had been responsible for destroying their first marriage; they'd dedicate their lives to keeping it in its proper place this time. Theirs would be a proper, respectful marriage. For the boys' sake, if nothing else.
It was here that Nadine groaned, jerked, felt like someone was hammering a stake through her heart. As she realized-for the very first time-just what it was that had flung Brett into Cheryl's arms. And at the same time, exactly what had driven Darren's first wife to take a lover! Suddenly she couldn't get her breath!
Of course! she wailed inwardly, the ugly truth suffocating her. What else were Brett and Marcine supposed to do, married to two insufferable prigs as they were? Married to two sexless robots, to two people who'd been conditioned from childhood to deny their basic sexuality? It's so! I never realized it until tonight-until Wynn! I am dead, I am frigid, dead from the neck down! And so is Darren! Dear God, no wonder we've got problems!
Her grief intensified, as she mentally renewed her pledge to Darren-to her sons. She could not betray Darren again, no matter how great her compulsions, no matter how ardently Wynn Maxwell might sing his Satyr's song. She was doomed to deny her true sexuality, to pretend that tonight's pagan rebirth had never occurred-for the rest of her life!
But how, how? she raged. After having known what it's like to be alive, to be a woman, a passionate, flesh-and-blood woman for once? God, help me! How can I ever resist temptation? I wish I'd never been born!
It was here that Nadine's sexual frustrations became intolerable. Feeling very sorry for herself, her entire life rendered bleak, hopeless all at once, she defiantly insinuated her fingers between her legs, began to masturbate. She flung her legs wide, steepled her knees, almost daring Darren to awake and find her at her perverted chores. She carefully, painstakingly peeled the petals of her cunt back, applied pressure to her pubis to bring her burning, yearning clitoris out of hiding. She hissed pleasurably, shuddered as she oiled her finger with her juices, with the stingy dribblings of Darren's semen. Now she gently began to caress and pinch her passion pimple.
How long? she wondered, fighting shame. How long since I've surrendered so obscenely? But what can I do? What else is there, locked in this hideous trap as I am? This sham excuse for a marriage. What else do I have?
Now the guilt faded. The hot, spine-melting sensations of orgasm grew, and her cunt was seemingly turned to molten jelly. Her fingers worked more swiftly now, more evilly, more deliciously!
The raging fires leaped higher, and still higher. She gasped and snarled uncontrollably. Her finger strummed harder, faster. Her spine was turned to liquid fire.
"Ahhh, ahhh!" she moaned, involuntarily yearning for Wynn Maxwell at that most vital moment. "Good, so good...."
Then her orgasm was upon her.
CHAPTER FOUR
How she ever got through that endless, shame-haunted weekend, Nadine never knew. It was sheer agony to awake in the morning and face her husband's accusing eyes. It was even more agonizing to go down to breakfast and confront her smiling, bright-eyed sons. When she frowned at the loudness of their greeting, they were immediately all consideration.
"What's the matter, Mom?" said Phil, his blue-gray eyes serious, his instant solicitude sincere.
"Nothing, dear," she replied, deeply touched. "I think perhaps your mother made a bit of a fool of herself last night." She glanced furtively at Darren, caught him glaring. "I guess I overdid on the drinks."
"Would you like us to fix breakfast, Mom?" Steve quickly intervened. His smile was brash, totally confident, his manner quite different from that of his shy, diffident brother. She thought his dark, crewcut hair, his snapping brown eyes-spitting image of his father-especially attractive this morning. "We know how. Shucks, Phil and I cook for ourselves all the time."
Nadine blinked her eyes rapidly to hold back the tears of intermixed love and despair. And what did I ever do to deserve such kind, loving boys as these? Guilt smashed her. Oh, my darlings, if you only knew the truth about me. If you only knew the filthy things I did last night-with a man other than your father. And with your father as well. You wouldn't smile at me so tenderly, you wouldn't be so quick to wait on me hand and foot.
"All the time?" she teased. "I hadn't realized I was such a failure as a mother."
"You know what we mean, Mom," Phil smiled. Always the more affectionate of her sons, he came to her, put his arm around her, kissed her cheek. "You're the best mother any guy could have. But there are times when you ... when you and Dad have got to get away from us lugs. We take care of ourselves pretty well then."
She gave him an affectionate hug, kissed him back. "I'm sure you do," she said. Then she recoiled, her dismay obvious to them all. I shouldn't! I shouldn't ever kiss my boys again. Not after the depraved things I did with these lips less then twelve hours ago!
Somehow she recovered. "But just the same, I'd rather fix breakfast for my big, handsome boys myself. Saturday morning, after all. What'll it be? Eggs, bacon, pancakes?"
"That sounds great, Mom," Steve said, moving close, almost as if he were jealous of his brother. "I'm hungry enough to eat a horse." He kissed her also, put his arm around her waist. The cheated look on his face when she didn't return the kiss lashed her, and taint of Wynn Maxwell or not, she drew his head down, kissed him as affectionately as she had Phil. It was only when Darren lowered his newspaper, glowered at her, that she remembered herself, pulled away.
"Now, enough of this mush," she laughed. "Let's see about chow."
Despite the ache in her heart, the tears so close to the surface, breakfast was jolly enough. The boys still insisted on waiting on her and Darren, replenishing her plate, keeping her coffee cup full, almost competing for the privilege. Even though Nadine wasn't hungry, she forced herself to eat.
She was grateful for the boys' boisterous banter, for their slangy review of their week's activities. It helped keep her mind off her own vile thoughts. Steve had won the YMCA swimming meet yesterday afternoon, and was still full of brag about the triumph. By way of contrast. Phil described his last guitar lesson, cited the new songs he'd learned. Again Nadine couldn't contain the admiration-adoration was more like it-she felt toward her two sons. They were so handsome, so clean-cut, such ideal boys.
Phil was so much her son, just as Steve was so much Darren's. Steve was aggressive, cocksure, already making a big splash with girls. In direct contrast, Phil was introverted, his features somehow pretty. He was interested in things artistic and cultural. Not in sports, like Steve. But still they got along wonderfully, were the envy of all Nadine and Darren's friends.
And growing so rapidly, she appraised. It seemed both had shot up four, five inches this summer. Steve was actually taller than his father, and Darren stood almost six feet. Their chests and biceps were filling out, and to watch them wrestling with each other as they sometimes did, was to be reminded of two young bulls. The bull analogy seemed especially fitting. She remembered seeing Steve in his trunks yesterday, remembered seeing the great bulge of his penis through the clinging fabric. Nor was Phil any slouch in that department, for even now, as he rose from his chair for more milk, his movements stretching his clinging blue jeans even tighter, she saw his lax rod clearly. Both her boys-like their fathers-were well hung!
Instantly, breaking from her surreptitious appraisal to find her heart racing, her loins suddenly tingling, she jerked her eyes away, studied her plate. You have turned into the great whore of Babylon, haven't you? she lashed. Now it's your sons you've got the hots for! Slut, unprincipled slut!
Then breakfast was over, and the boys were leaving. They were meeting the gang down at the park pool; there were some new dives they wanted to practice.
Then the dread moment-the facedown with Darren-was at hand. But no, even this was to be denied her. For, on the boys' heels, Darren sheepishly arose, threw down his napkin. "Please, Darren?" she pleaded. "Sit? Don't you think we should talk? If you'd only let me explain about last night...."
His eyes narrowed threateningly. "I told you last night, Nadine," he snapped, "there's nothing to discuss. We were both more than a little drunk; we got carried away. We acted like animals. It's best forgotten." He shrugged her hand away. "Anyway, I've got a golf date with Pete Krail at ten-thirty. I'll have to hustle." A glimmer of softness returned to his eyes. "Maybe it's for the best, Nadine. It'll give us time to think, to see things in true perspective." His voice blurred. "Maybe that thing last night ... was for the best after all. I'll see you later. About four. We'll probably tip a few after the game." Nadine nodded helplessly, searched his eyes, saw that contrary to Darren's pretty speech, he would never truly believe that last night was for the best. Never in a million years. She rebelled inside, almost cried out in frustration. I'll go crazy if I'm left alone all day! Please, darling But Darren, oblivious of her needs, wheeled, went to pack his golf equipment into the car. Two minutes later the house was deserted, and Nadine was alone with her reveries.
And as she moved about the kitchen, cleared the table, washed dishes, put things away, Wynn Maxwell was her constant companion. Fight as she might, she couldn't shut the rerun of last night's base relapse from her brain.
Over and over, the sick, pagan words repeated themselves, as if they'd been recorded on an endless ribbon of tape. Once more, in her mind's eye, she saw herself unzipping Wynn's fly, she saw herself invading his trousers, fishing out his hard, wet cock. "I-I'll s-suck you, Wynn," the quavering voice echoed and reechoed. "I'll take you in my mouth. Something ... I've never done for any man ... not even Darren. I'll take you in my mouth...."
Angrily, desperately, verging on physical illness, she shook her head, fought to blot out the booming, perverted voice-her own! Dear God in heaven! What gets into people? Was it just the liquor? Or was it something else? Something much, much more basic? Something symptomatic of the vast lack in my marriage-in my life? Could I actually have begged him like that? Could I have actually bent my knees, the better to get at his prick?
She closed her eyes, rocked her head savagely, but the filthy pictures wouldn't go away. Again she was examining his ugly, twisted organ; she was handling it, transferring its oils to her lips, tasting it. She was working his foreskin back and forth, marveling at the way each new pumping coaxed more oil forth.
A convulsive spasm slammed Nadine, and she suddenly found her thighs grinding together. Her cunt was on fire, her panties flooded all over again. Even this realization didn't chase the demented sex fantasies, and her brain whirled anew, refocused. That beautiful blonde, salaciously hanging on the man's knees, squirming and fighting to swallow the whole length of his cock down her greedy throat! She saw the man leer down at the groveling slut like some satisfied toad. Then she identified the harlot. It's me, it's me! No, oh, no!
But even the self-identity failed to rout the dissolute reveries. See how my cheeks bellow in and out, the way my throat's working. That look of lewd bliss as Wynn groans, begins shooting his thick sap down my throat! Oh, God, the sensation, the gutsy, dirty sensation! The way it tastes! More, oh, more! Please, Wynn, more! Treat me like your whore, like your slave! Say anything, do anything you want to me!
Again Nadine awoke from her licentious trance, was surprised to find herself clinging to the edge of the sink, her head thrown back, her knees parted.
Even more disgusting, her lips parted, working in pseudo-sucking motions, her throat parched with lust, her mouth actually working as if she were sucking a man off!
She gagged, began to sob. She fled the kitchen, entered the living room. Flinging herself face down on the davenport, she waited until the betraying spasms of primal lust faded. Even so, she couldn't help but notice the slippery wetness between her legs. Dear Jesus, what have I turned into? How Wynn must be gloating today! Must I dignify that filthy breakdown by remembering so vividly? By wanting more of the same so desperately? Want, want! I want! I want Wynn! I want his cock!
Bewildered, baffled, sobbing and cursing in turn, Nadine regained partial control, tried to make some sort of sense of the catastrophe which had disrupted her world overnight. Was their marriage all that bad? Was it that hopeless, beyond salvaging? Could she ever love Darren-truly love him-again? And what must he think of her groveling performance last night? Was that her truest face? Was she basically a cocksucking nympho? Or was there more? Were there other outlets, other vile facets to her sexuality as yet unrevealed to her?
The thoughts boiled more slowly now, and she shuddered, sighed, went limp, as if she'd just lived an hour in the eye of a hurricane. No, she decreed determinedly, this can't be the end of everything. We will survive. Perhaps, in time, I can coax Darren back to bed. I can loosen him up, make him more adventurous in bed. On our honeymoon, those first weeks of our She frowned, her mouth abruptly sour. But hadn't that been all sham? Hadn't their whole marriage been sham, pure sham? Wasn't I putting on a show for Darren those first few weeks and months? I didn't really enjoy any of it; I thought it was dirty. And if I were play-acting, then it stands to reason that Darren was play-acting, too.
She stifled another sob. Oh, God, isn't there a chance for us? Any chance at all?
She was almost grateful for the interruption at that moment, as Phil and Steven, finished with their swim early, burst in the back door. "Hey, Mom," they bellowed. "The guys are going out to Hunter's Point. Will you fix us a lunch?"
They were all eager, boyish excitement as she bustled around in the kitchen to fix sandwiches, cookies, to pack Coke for them. It was here that Phil asked about his father. And when she told him about his golf date, the boy grinned happily, said, "Why don't you come along, too, Mom? It would do wonders for you. You could sit there and read, watch us swim. It's such a pretty place."
"Yeah, Mom," Steve chimed in. "C'mon along. We won't go if you don't go. Mrs. Ollerman's going. You can even swim with us. You're the only mother in the crowd who hasn't gone to fat. Please, Mom?"
Again Nadine felt her heart fill up, and she fought to keep tears from brimming over. My boys, my sweet thoughtful boys. No matter what happens, I still have them. Somebody loves me! Then, still moving in confused, maudlin trance, she ran upstairs to change.
Now it was Monday afternoon, and Nadine was once more alone in their luxurious, modem house, busying herself with light household chores. Today her heart was less heavy. She and Darren were still at an impasse, but at least he hadn't stomped out yet. The memories of that horrible Maxwell party were fading somewhat; with each hour they passed more deeply into the realm of fantasy. It hadn't really happened. It was all part of a terrible nightmare.
Nadine, dressed in tight bellbottoms, a pretty black silk blouse that displayed her high, piquant breasts to perfection, was glad for domestic chores today. Only once in the last hour had her thoughts drifted to Wynn Maxwell, and then only in an almost abstract way. She envisioned him in his business surroundings, busy at the Maxwell Chemicals offices, where his and Darren's paths must surely cross for the first time since the party.
And what thoughts would enter Wynn's head as he and Darren talked? Would he look down on Darren because of his wife's pagan lapse Friday night? Would he make insinuating, demeaning comments to the poor husband? Again Nadine knew racking shame. I'm sorry, Darren. I'm sorry, truly I am. I swear, I'll never let a sick thing like that happen again.
Her relapse could undermine Darren's lucrative position at Maxwell Chemicals, and if it should somehow happen that he'd lose his job, what would happen to them then? After all, Darren was thirty-eight. When a man reaches that age, good jobs aren't easy to find. Then where would all their rosy dreams, their security, this lovely new home in one of Framingham's most elite suburbs go? What about the boys' college plans?
An even more terrifying shudder ripped her as the most far-out supposition hit her. Suppose Wynn should choose to use his position as head of Maxwell Chemicals to force her to surrender to him a second time? Endless second times?
It would simply be a matter of laying things on the line. "I know you're a slut, Nadine," he'd threaten. "And unless you spread those trampy legs of yours whenever I say, I'll tell Darren about what you did for me in the garden ... about your professional suck-off. And sure, he can take a swing at me. Or else he knuckles under, accepts the fact. Either that or he gets phased out of his job. You pick it, baby. It's in your hands. Now you gonna get those clothes off, wrap your pretty, cocksucking mouth around this aching dong of mine, or not?"
The depraved reverie hit Nadine where she lived. And suddenly she swayed weakly, fought for breath, so vivid was the picture that exploded in her brain. As ugly as the imagined ultimatum might be, it was still eerily intriguing, evilly exciting. Certainly Wynn wouldn't be that crass. Her brain spun. But if he were! If he should force me to submit again, if he commanded me to debase myself before him-She became even more confused. I'd be a victim, totally helpless, wouldn't I? Wouldn't I be doing a noble thing, really? Selling my body, crawling, in order to save my husband's job, to insure my family's future?
She sank back onto the davenport, fell into a salacious swoon. She found herself actually conjuring up fantasies in which she crawled naked before Wynn. She saw herself kneeling before him as he sprawled on this very davenport, his legs spread wide, his cock standing arrogantly, beckoning her on, the glistening, excitement-slimed glans irresistible.
The lewd reverie broadened, and she found herself at Wynn's cock, her mouth sliding up and down it joyously, her jaws creaking, her throat raw where his snout rooted and snorted. Now Wynn began to thrash and howl, and once more she was master of the situation; she had him where she wanted him. And she wanted him spitting, shooting hard, glutinous volleys of his sperm down her throat. And, oh, but didn't it feel good? Didn't it taste good? Wasn't the feel of his throbbing cock sheer ecstasy? Wasn't the crawly, wallowing sensation-the feeling of utter filthiness fantastically exciting?
She broke from the trance to find her eyes closed, her mouth opening and closing-as if, again, there was a cock there for her to suck. But then, with a jolting realization, she knew what had really jarred her back to reality. Immediately she was up, swaying as she fled the living room. The doorbell! Someone was at the back door!
Her face paled, her heart jumped up into her throat as she opened the door to find a weakly smiling Wynn Maxwell standing there. He was dressed casually, immaculately, in his best country gentleman pose, and he looked very handsome, very suave indeed. "Wynn! What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the office? I don't under-"
"I took the day off. Boss' prerogative, after all. Some odds and ends to finish around the house." He crooked a thumb toward the garage. "Brought back the lawn fertilizer gadget Darren loaned me last week."
His eyes locked with hers, and she could see he was going crazy inside, just as she was. He hadn't come just to return lawn equipment. "Lauri's in town at one of her meetings. Kids are gone. Thought I'd come over and kill a few minutes." He forced a crooked smile. "Got a drink for a thirsty man?" His expression became crazed, desperate. "I think you and I have some things to say to each other, Nadine. Some very important things."
She clung to the door desperately. "Oh, Wynn, I don't know. I'm afraid ... I'm...." She glanced over to the Hollisters, was relieved to see the drive empty. "People might start to talk. It wouldn't look right, not with Darren gone."
"I came through the back way, Nadine. If you don't keep me out here all afternoon nobody'll be the wiser." His eyes narrowed. "I happen to know that Phil and Steve are on the same field trip as my Priscilla and Jasmin. They won't be back until five." His expression became stern, demanding. "Let me in, Nadine!"
She gasped, fell back, and Wynn sidled past her. Instantly, the minute the door was locked behind them, he seized her in his arms, planted a hard, starved kiss on her lips.
Nadine went limp in his grasp, felt so completely weak, frightened and helpless. Her heart and soul went out to him; it was as if she were crazy to melt into his flesh. Her brain clouded, and only a compelling, dark, animal passion remained. Now her lips responded to his, and she sucked his questing, aggressive tongue.
"Oh, darling, darling," he groaned when finally they broke the kiss, "if you only knew the hell I've been through these past few days. I've been like a madman. I haven't been able to sleep, to eat. Just drink. I couldn't get you out of my head. What have you done to me, Nadine? I'm destroyed, utterly destroyed. That thing actually happened, didn't it, Nadine? I didn't just dream it?"
"It happened, Wynn," she replied in a shattered voice, burying her face in his shoulder, unable to look into his eyes. "I don't understand it either. How I got like that. I'm not that kind of a woman, Wynn, you must believe me. Dear God, what you must think of me!"
"I think you're the most warm and human, most beautiful, most giving woman in the whole world. I think we have to have that again, or we'll both go out of our minds. Again and again!"
Once more his lips drove into hers, his tongue invaded her mouth. Great, rocking spasms ran down his spine, and as his hands swept down her back, from shoulders to buttocks, as they pressed her belly tight to his, she could feel his prick, hard as a rock, digging into the yearning, wet vale of her crotch. It seemed her cuntlips constricted, actually reached out to suck him, suck his beautiful, throbbing cock. Suddenly all will was gone; the only life force remaining was that most elemental and primitive one of all; that drive to be naked with this man, to surrender her body to him, to have him-his prick-buried in her belly!
"Oh, I wanted you that night, Nadine," he groaned. "If you just knew how mad I was for you! And then, when there was nothing else we could do ... for you to give me that one perfect thing ... the only thing we could have." He held her suffocatingly tight. "You were fantastic! You were perfect, sublime! If I live to be a thousand, I'll never forget that divine gift!"
He held her away, his eyes burning into hers, diluting all will, and she felt she'd melt into a puddle on the floor at any moment. "And now, darling, quick, let's not wait any longer! Oh, God I want you so terribly! All the way! I want to repay you for that exquisite thing you did for me."
She fought him feebly. "Oh, no, Wynn, no, no! We can't! It's wrong, it's so wrong. You have Lauri, I have Darren. We can't do this to them! I've never ... in my life ... been unfaithful to Darren. That thing we did ... wasn't that bad enough? We'll ruin everything, Wynn! Please, let me go! Go away, dear. Stay out of my life. It just can't be."
But when her voice broke, betrayed her, the aggressive male instantly moved in. He kissed her passionately, further demolishing all moral resolve. Now he turned her firmly, took total charge. "Which way, darling?" he husked. "Show me the way!"
Mutely, her heart on fire, Nadine went ahead, led him through the house.
They huddled in the cool gloom of the guest room, kissing, embracing, sighing and groaning blissfully. The drapes drawn tightly, the door locked against possible interruption, they writhed and spasmed on the clean sheets, ecstatically surrendered to mindless, blinding passion.
To Nadine it was beautiful beyond description, and where she'd thought she'd experience crippling embarrassment to bare her body to the strange man, she was amazed when she felt nothing of the kind. She knew a fulfilling sense of pride. She had never been undressed so worshipfully, she had never felt so adored, so womanly, so complete.
Wynn was a lover, the most fantastic lover in the whole world!
She was almost sorry to find herself-at long last-naked; she wished she might be dressed, so they could start all over again. Those tender fingers, those kissing, sucking, licking lips and tongue! The things he'd done to her as each item of clothing came away to reveal her creamy, lush body. The way he'd kissed and sucked her tits! The way he'd licked her navel, had slithered tickling, maddening lips and tongue down her spine, flirting with the crevice of her writhing buttocks before he fled down her legs, to the very soles of her feet. Before he finished she was a writhing, jittering, yearning ball of tormented flesh, so wild to be fucked that she could have screamed!
Somewhere along the line Wynn had managed to strip off his own clothes. Abruptly she was aware of his nakedness, and again, where she'd expected to feel shame, she did not. Instead she adored his trim body; she shamelessly ogled his rigid cock. She was turned into a snarling, mewling hellcat, crazy to get at it. It was an old friend, the original comforting staff, medicine for all the ailments of a lifetime of fearful inhibitions. She wanted to hold it, touch and caress it; she wanted to kiss and lick it. She wanted it shoved into her mouth! God, if she didn't have it soon!
But whether she liked it or not, ecstasy was to be withheld a little longer. For now (contrary to her previous living room sex fantasies) it was she who was arranged on the bed, pillows beneath her back, her legs brazenly spread, her hair-fringed pussy totally exposed and vulnerable before Wynn's lust-glazed eyes, eager victim of his stroking, prying fingers. And where she should have been mortified, red with embarrassment at his inspection and fondlings, she was not. She felt proud, impatient, reversed.
Now Wynn knelt on the floor beside the bed. Then, with dreamy deliberateness, he moved to kiss her between the legs, to bury his face in her drooling slit. She jerked, clamped her legs together, fought his head with her hands. "No, Wynn!" she gasped. "No, no, you can't ... you can't do that. It's not right! No man ... no woman should wallow like that. Oh, God, do it to me Wynn! Fuck me ... put your ... thing ... your cock ... into me! But not that. I'm not clean ... I'm not worthy...."
"You are clean. You are worthy, Nadine. And I am going to do it. I must do it. If only to repay you for that thing the other night."
"Please, please, darling. No, don't!" She still fought his head. "I've never let any man ... not even Darren ... do that to me. It's evil, perverted." She neglected to add that Darren had never once suggested or attempted the forbidden sexuality. Nor did she mention Brett, her first husband, and his constant pleadings to be allowed cunnilingus. Nor her adamant refusals, one of the many wedges that had finally sundered their marriage. "I'll be sick, Wynn. Really I will! Wynn, don't!"
But he was too strong for her, and shortly he forced her legs open again, and slithered his hot, wet lips up along the inside of her thighs, let his tongue flirt and tease her bearded cuntlips, let it tickle and rustle in the golden hair of her pubis by way of appetizer to the main course itself. And eerily, swiftly-his ministrations making her feel like someone sawed a barbed wire back and forth in her, from cunt to brain-she sank into a gasping, rocking trance. She was actually moaning and squeaking, straining to spread her legs, to turn her cunt inside out, so he could loll his tongue on every square inch of the steaming, liverish flesh, so he could corkscrew it into the uttermost depths of her vagina.
"Unnnhh, unnnhhh," she grated, thrashing her hips, an electric fire skewering her as his tongue vibrated and rolled, danced a tormenting minuet around her swollen clitoris. "Yes. Wynn, oh, yes! It's good, so very good! I never dreamed it could be so good!"
She felt like someone was imbedding red-hot embers in the slimed, bloated grotto of her vulva. And then, when his tongue continued its slow, stately slide and slither, shyly circled the puckered pimple of her clit, she began to pant uncontrollably. She wanted him to touch his fiery, barbed tongue to the screaming nub; she wanted him to lick it, remove the incredible itch and tightness there; she wanted him to wrap his lips around it, suck and tug and worry it without stop. Why? her brain agonized. Why must he keep torturing me? Dear God, let him do it! Don't make me wait a second longer. God, do you hear me? Let him suck it! Suck, oh, suck!
She whimpered unashamedly, lashed her hips, wished she could jam her lover's head right up between her legs, work it there like a hairy, bony battering ram. Latch on, Wynn, darling! Suck it out by the roots! Dirty, so deliciously dirty. I'm going to come! For the first time in my life a man's sucking me off! A man's making me come with his mouth, with his red-hot tongue!
"Suck me, darling!" she gurgled. "Suck, oh, suck!" She clamped her fingers in his hair, wrenched his ears, fought to intensify the exotic, maddening sensations. And as Wynn's skillful lips siphoned her clit, would seemingly sharpen it to a bloody point, she went completely berserk.
"It's, good, darling," she choked thickly, animalistically. "It's the most magnificent thing I've ever felt. It's beautiful, do you hear? Ohhh! Ohhh! So fast, so hard! It's ripping me up! Ripping me-e-e!"
A miracle-something she'd never experienced before in her entire life-occurred just then. Suddenly, even as her first orgasm loosened its clamping, murderous hold on her cunt, a new, even more powerful orgasm gripped her vaginal walls, twisted them obscenely, seemingly clawed them bloody. Her anus constricted powerfully, and in that moment both orifices appeared to become one.
"Again!" she barked. "Oh, God, again! It's happening again! I'm coming again! Another, darling! I can't believe it! It's never happened like this before! I'm going crazy, darling! Dear God, again! Another one!"
But now, at last, ecstasy turned to pain, and she could endure no more. Somehow she tore Wynn's head away from her ravaged hole; she dragged him up on the bed, flung him onto his back. And then, still in the depths of bitch-in-heat rut, she fell upon him, drove her greedy, sucking mouth into his genitals, determined to consume his whole prick, his testicles, to jam his entire sexual machine into her mouth. She was bereft, saddened; she wanted to sob brokenheartedly in frustration as she found that she could only get half of his fat rod into her mouth before it choked her. There was no hope in the world of ever getting it all down.
Delicious, delicious, her fuck-crazed mind shrieked, so indescribably delicious! How could I have ever thought this was sick and perverted, that only whores behaved this way? Where have I been? Where, oh, where? She let her mouth form a hot, milking channel, and her cheeks hollowed with each backstroke. Faster and faster she worked, spewing thick, guttural, proud grunts as his cockhead ravaged her throat. It tastes good, exquisite! Even better than last time!
She was possessed by the most insane desire to suck him to completion, just as she'd done the first time; she was crazy to feel his thick, hot jism splash the back of her throat. Her gut yearning made her ache and thrash; she was on fire between her legs, insane with need to have male meat jamming her, stretching her, ripping her! Cock, beautiful cock! she rhapsodized. How I love to suck cock! If only somehow I could jam it all down my throat! Love it, love it! I'll never get enough of it!
A vainglorious resolve filled her, and she sucked Wynn more swiftly, forming her lips into murderous, siphoning clamps that made the stunned man groan and writhe beneath her. Yes, darling! she pleaded. Your sperm! Thick and rich and hot! Spit it! Let me feel it, let me taste it! Let me swallow it. And then, afterward, I'll be able to hold all of you in my mouth; I'll be able to suck you hard again. And then Abruptly her pagan fantasy was aborted, as Wynn finally gathered enough will power to drag her greedy face away from his mauled organ. He jerked his prick from her mouth with a loud, liquid plop.
"No, darling," he grated, a man tom between two desires. "Not this time. Not that way. In your belly, baby. Between your legs. Up your gorgeous, hot cunt! Inside of you! Inside your beautiful little belly!"
A moment later he was crouched between her legs, an arrogant, dominating smirk on his lips. And modest-sized though his prick was, seen from her servile attitude, it seemed luminous, looming. It was the biggest prick in the whole world, and in a helpless fit of passion and need, Nadine shifted on the bed; she groaningly slid her hands between her legs, parted her cuntal flanges with eager, clumsy fingers. Her pink, dripping wound twitched, burned, convulsed in famished impatience.
"Yes," she grated heathenishly, jamming her legs to their widest apex. "Put it in! Put that beautiful, fat cock into me! Sink it, sink it, before I go insane!"
CHAPTER FIVE
And now, as Wynn's formidable hulk came over her, as his lips closed on hers, and his stiff cock was slowly, yet dominatingly fed into her greedy slot, Nadine knew-for the first time in her life-the truest meaning of passion. She knew what it meant to really give herself to a man, to savor .the ultimate throes of wanton surrender.
She heard animalistic cries, whimpers of pathetic need, and gradually, her eyes hot and heavy in their sockets, rolling back up into her head, she came to realize that the sounds were coming from her own throat. In instinctive response, only the sweet, scalding cock steaming up her cuntal sleeve registering in her mind now, she ground her hips up at him, her legs floating, her ankles twining behind his back, the better to crowd him into her aching, pleading wound. The greasy torpedo plowed deeper, still deeper, pushed the lubricious folds of her vagina aside slowly, deliciously. It seemed that his obscene organ no sooner cleared a path in her greasy folds, then they were crowding back in around it again, as if intending to suffocate it, swallow it up.
"Oh, God, Nadine," Wynn moaned, "you're so tight, so goddamned tight. You feel like a virgin.
That man of yours ... Darren ... doesn't he ever ... use you?"
"Once in a while," she choked, flexing her vaginal muscles to better enjoy the weird curvature of his rod. "But it's nothing like this, Wynn, nothing at all like this! Oh, God, the way you fuck!"
She knew momentary shame as the words registered on her brain, and realized she was betraying Darren, shaming him, by uttering words like these. As quickly the shame fled, to be replaced by a mind-blowing sense of vengeance. Darren's got it coming! she raged. He's cheated me all these years. He's kept me from knowing what true, carnal love is all about!
She squealed, grunted, desperately fucked back at him as he bottomed in her vagina, mashed the knob of his phallus against her cervix. No, no! she wailed dedicatedly. I won't be denied! I won't be cheated! I will know what it's like to be fucked, to be truly fucked!
She squealed in piggish abandon, and buried her face in Wynn's shoulder, bit him heedlessly, sinking, moment by moment, into deeper frenzy.
What a wildcat! Wynn Maxwell marveled, standing the pain as best he could, all the while drilling his cock into her juicy gash with almost sadistic, pile-driver thrusts. He marveled at the tightness of her prick-mangling hole. But even this wasn't enough for Maxwell. He wanted more; he wanted to make Nadine's slit even tighter. And though he knew there were many more afternoons in their future, though he knew they had time, he was still greedy; he wanted to try everything he could the first time out. Thus he dropped one hand, groped her churning bottom. He exulted in Nadine's gasp and lurch when his index finger slithered over the velvety, puckered, softly haired star of her anus.
Shit! he raged. Doesn't she know anything? Didn't that Darren ever put his finger up his prissy little wife's ass? He worked his finger more deliberately, slid it in the copious, thick film of prick and cunt juice that streamed down the crack of her buttocks.
Nadine froze in mid-motion, clung to the strong trestle of Wynn's back. "Darling!" she gasped. "What are you doing? Oh, don't don't! You'll hurt me! Your finger ... so big ... it'll...."
He chuckled harshly, reveled in the gut-knotting sense of power he felt over Nadine. Without bothering to acknowledge her protests, he scrabbled his finger all the more determinedly in her anus.
"No!" she gasped, squirming, contracting her anal sphincter to block the invasion. "Oh, don't, darling! Just the other. Your prick. Fuck me with your prick. But don't degrade me, don't be cruel. Don't treat me like some whore or something!"
But even as the words spilled out, she was struck by a gut wrenching feeling of submission, her emotions verging on the masochistic. If he wants to, really wants to do that ... Then Nadine shuddered, moaned at the delicious sensations skewering her. It felt like her cunt was suddenly ablaze, like his pillaging cock was big as a fence post. Yes, darling! she capitulated all at once. Anything you want! You're the boss! Again her cunt locked, wrung the neck of his prick. You're my master, my cock-my stallion cock!
Though she tried to relax, it still hurt when he began corkscrewing his finger into her asshole. But he was gentle after a fashion, and as he twisted it in and out of the stingy little port, as he brought more of their overflow down, she relaxed, and shortly it slid in and out more easily, more smoothly, until, finally, it was buried as deep as it would go, strumming the fragile membrane between anus and vagina, making her cunt feel murderously tight. Any tighter, any more strain on her cuntal structure, and she was positive her flesh would tear. Even so, she wouldn't have let him withdraw his finger for the world.
Again he was fucking her, riding her, rocking her. He was squirming his greasy digit in her asshole, the sensations turning her wild. Somehow he managed to kiss her, his tongue penetrating her mouth, pistoning in and out in cadence with the slam and withdrawal of his marauding meat. Nadine was driven into an even more lewd, pagan trance; she gloried in the demeaning punishment. A fat prick in my cunt, she exulted, a finger up my ass, a raping tongue in my throat! Could any woman ask for more?
But then, as Wynn rocked into high, as it seemed his prick would split her from cunt to eyes, there was more-the most decadent display, the most outrageous paean to passion. Now it was Wynn's turn to go slightly psycho, driven to excess by his rampaging lust.
"Open your eyes, Nadine," he snarled coarsely, driving more fiercely into her wet vagina. "Open them, do you hear?" His finger dug hard, made her writhe and groan. "Right now!" And her eyes fluttered open, focused on his cruel face. "That's right, baby," he seethed. "I want to see my prick in there ... inside your head. I want to see it moving behind your eyes."
She groaned hideously, jerked, the words so stunningly vile that she couldn't believe her ears. "Wynn?" she croaked. "What ... what did you say?"
"You heard me, baby. Loud and clear. And you loved every word of it, didn't you? You cunts are all alike. That's right. Keep 'em open. Wide! Wider! Let me see! I wanna be watching when my baby jumbo starts shooting!"
At first Nadine thought she'd be sick. How could he talk to her like that when her heart was so full of love for him, when she was giving him all she had to give? Her body, her virtue, her soul-her hot, milking cunt? But then as his masterful cock continued pistoning in and out of her, as his finger kept stabbing her ass-and his eyes all the while kept staring insolently into hers, gauging her building passion-the sickness faded. It was swiftly replaced by a sense of heathenish ecstasy. She was abruptly transfigured by the sublime filthiness of his words, of the obscene concept he'd triggered within her skull.
Thus she sank deeper into the voluptuary, whorish trance; she clamped her legs, booted with her heels, thrust herself up at his raping shaft. She wanted more and more filthiness! She wanted to go all the way, pull out every last stop. She wanted to wallow as she'd never wallowed before!
She gurgled and thrashed the more desperately, and it felt to Wynn like she'd actually snap his bone off at the base. The way her cunt snarled and gnawed at his organ, the way her asshole tightened and suctioned his finger!
A mindless wanton, a gutter wench now, Nadine didn't care what she said; she was crazy to do and to say every vile, taboo thing under the sun. "Fuck!" she grated shrilly. "Oh, fuck me! Fuck my cunt! fuck it black and blue! Fuck it bloody! Deep, oh, deep! Hard, hard! Fuck me harder! Oh, God, God, GOD! I can't believe it! I never came like this before! So hard, so fast, so endlessly! Darling, darling, it's here already. I'm coming, coming ... COMING!"
Her legs became iron bars; she crazily wished she were strong enough to break his dirty, fucking back at that supreme moment of transport. And then, her orgasm barely at full flower, another climax began to build right on top of it; it shouldered its deflated remains out of the way, and she screamed again, partly in mounting rapture, partly in agonized frustration that she was so selfish at that moment, and couldn't tell him how much she was enjoying his sublime fucking!
"Again, you darling fucker," she squealed swinishly as his fat, greasy rod plowed in and out of her sloshy gash, as it bulldozed through her gluttonous cuntal folds, careened deep into her guts, steamed toward her heart. "Oh, again! I'm coming again! I keep coming and coming! Whooh, oh, whooh! Hot, so hot! So fucking hot! It feels like it's going right through me!"
And as a new orgasm split her from crotch to brain, she stared beseechingly into his face. "Tell me, darling. Tell me what it's like for you. Is it good?"
It was here that she somehow squirmed one hand between their thrashing bodies, and her fingers wrapped themselves around his flopping, bloated balls, gingerly, tenderly at first, then cruelly, demandingly, as if intending to squeeze his sperm out that way. "Come, lover, come! Shoot it into me. Now! I'm begging you! COME!"
With encouragements like that no man alive could have held out. Wynn Maxwell's guts bubbled and steamed; his prick ached with an intolerable fire; his testicles felt as big as softballs. And now someone was tamping his sperm into his cock with a fire-oiled ramrod. His guttural cries and curses mounted, threatened to rupture his throat. He dropped his head, buried his teeth in her shoulder; he squirmed his finger deeper into her ass. Now he increased the pressure, made Nadine yowl and thrash still more insanely.
"Here, you fuck!" he groaned as his scalding muck was finally released, and went spurting like rounds of hot lead into her narrow channel. "Oh, God, God! Take it, baby, take it! Every fucking ounce. You cunt, you sweet cunt! Sweet, sperm-drinking cunt! God, take it, take it!"
For what seemed an eternity afterwards, his sperm still cannonading her womb, dripping back, welling in her depths, they lay in trembling, gasping, sobbing trance, totally exhausted.
"God, Nadine," Wynn said, when finally he could speak again, "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to get carried away like that ... to say those things ... to treat you so badly. I just went crazy. You were so good, so fantastically good. God, I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Nadine smiled, pressed him closer, caressed his hair gently. Her smile was beatific. "No, you didn't hurt me, darling. Not at all. And you have nothing to be ashamed of. I like it; I liked it very much. I feel humble and proud ... that I was able to do that ... turn you on like that. I've never affected any other man that way. You do make me feel so complete ... so much a woman."
"Again, Nadine," he gasped, "it will happen again. I'll find a way. Only don't say no, don't shut me out of your life. Not after this. It was exquisite, angel, simply exquisite! Nadine? Say we'll have this ... each other again?"
"We will, Wynn," she intoned. "We will." And though she knew she should feel ashamed, horrified at her easy surrender, she was unable to conjure up the slightest trace of guilt or remorse; there was only this all-abiding pride and sense of fulfillment. "Somehow. I promise."
He held her closer, his exertions causing his limp prick to slither out of its safe, warm berth. "You darling, you darling. There is something to live for after all."
It was this wet disconnection that broke her from her snug, insulating trance. And abruptly she remembered where she was. The enormity of her transgression staggered her. She glanced to the bedside clock. "Get up, Wynn! Get dressed ... get out of here! It's four-thirty! If the boys were to come home early...."
There were hurried, fervent vows of affection, tragic promises of encore. And even after Wynn was gone, she didn't have the strength to get up, see to her own cleanup and dressing. Instead she lay on the rumpled sheets, her one hand tight to her pussy to stem the relentless flow of sperm and juices. Her head spinning, she tried to understand how this incredible thing could have happened; she tried to envision the doom it must surely bring.
A merciful, healing interval of ten days' time had passed. And yes, it had been as Wynn had predicted: The guilt was less now, and shame seemed fuzzy and unreal somehow. Even more importantly, there had been another rendezvous-protracted and passionate-this time in the safe confines of a sumptuous downtown apartment which Wynn had acquired just for their erotic gambols.
It was a Thursday afternoon, and again Nadine was home alone, busy cleaning the boys' room. She was glad for the chores. They made the waiting until she and Wynn could meet again seem less eternal. The boys were at the playground once more. Another swimming meet. The vacuuming finished, she was dusting, hanging up her sons' clothes.
As she worked, she marveled at the ease with which she and Wynn had become lovers. How childishly simple it had all been, once they'd set their minds to it. No one in the world suspected their duplicity. Not Lauri, not his daughters, not her sons. And certainly not blind, pompous Darren!
Now she mused over the charmed life they seemingly led. For Darren, still brooding over that night of incredible relapse on both their parts, was continuing to give her wide berth. Priggishly he thought to punish her with the silent treatment, by refusing to even touch her in bed. If the stupid fool only know how he was playing right into Wynn's hands, how he was abetting his own betrayal!
Granted, there were times of scourging, agonizing guilt; there were times when she told herself that she must get hold of herself, drop Wynn. But even though she realized now that she didn't love Wynn, though she recognized that this was a fling, and must end one day soon, the thought of that tragic good-bye was still too painful to bear. Just one more time, she pleaded for each rendezvous, just one more glorious afternoon like this one. Then I'll be willing to return to Darren, to my place among the living dead.
Abruptly she gave herself a mental shaking. And in deliberate attempt to clear her brain of obscene reveries in which she once more gave in to Wynn's every sick whim, she concentrated on the strange thing that had been happening between Phil and Steve lately. She frowned, blamed that silly flirt, Sally Montfort, for the trouble. And isn't that always the way? she fumed. Here neither of them even look at a girl for years and years, and then, all of a sudden, they both fall for the same little snip.
It could have only happened the way it did. Steve, always the more confident, the more aggressive of the two, was bound to beat Phil out.
Her heart ached for her younger son. Phil had been quiet and withdrawn all week long, had kept out of everyone's way. Oh, God, why did it have to happen this way? Why couldn't it have been the other way around? Steve would have laughed it off, would have found himself another skirt to chase. Phil was so impressionable; a thing like this could warp his outlook permanently.
It was here that she picked up some fresh socks which Phil had neglected to put away, moved to put them in his dresser drawer. Suddenly, brushing aside some underwear, she saw something that made her heart freeze!
The luridly illustrated paperback novels, the smutty, pornographic magazines, filled with pictures, with all the four-letter words, the filthiest, sickest descriptions of unnatural sex anyone could imagine! Her heart felt leaden as she flipped the pages, thought of how she'd failed her son. My sweet Phil? Reading trash like this? Being corrupted, being taught the facts of life in the rottenest possible way? Dear God, we did let him down! If only Darren-or I-had taken him aside sooner, taught him what love between a man and a woman-a normal love-was really like!
Disgust contorting her features, she turned the pages of one paperback, found photographs of women holding their vaginas open for the camera, women fellating men, men lapping women between their legs. Here was one of a woman sucking two cocks at once, another of a female receiving a man's sperm in her mouth, some of it dribbling down her chin. Despite the circumstances of her sick discovery, Nadine couldn't help but feel a lewd tightening and tingling in her loins. My baby? Looking at things like this? He must be taught love's truest meaning, before it's too late! Oh, God, if there was just some way!
She was just turning the page, studying a picture of a shapely young blonde sucking one man's prick, while another fucked her, when she heard stealthy footsteps in the hall. Acting on pure reflex, not wanting to be caught going through Phil's things, she dropped the book, closed the drawer. Her eyes darting, she saw the half open door of her son's closet, scuttled inside. She was just sliding the door shut when he entered the room.
Her heart hammered madly, and she wondered why she'd acted so foolishly. Why hadn't she faced Phil, pretended she was cleaning? But she realized she couldn't have brazened it out-not after having seen the vile contents of his drawer. And how-just how am I ever going to get out of this mess?
She was even further flustered when she saw Phil, very morose and preoccupied, casually remove his shirt, begin unzipping his jeans, revealing his swimming trunks beneath. Kicking aside his sandals, he rose. With a furtive look in his eyes, he went to his door, locked it, Next he pulled the drapes, began to undo his trunks. Nadine found herself breathing rapidly, her face hot, flushed with embarrassment. She knew she should look away, but she could not. How long since she'd seen either of her sons naked, seen their boyish pricks. Five years? Six? A lot happens to an adolescent during those formative years. An evil curiosity filled her, and in spite of her shame, she watched avidly, fascinated.
Totally unaware he was being watched, Phil dragged down his swimming trunks, the built-in supporter clinging to his penis, dragging it away from his body, making the smallish hank sway and bob as cloth and flesh parted. Then Phil was naked, oblivious, as he kicked away the trunks. Nadine couldn't take her eyes off his slim, hard, tanned body, off his slowly hardening cock, off his compact, bloated balls. His cock rose from a downy patch of golden fur, dark and veined, the circumcised head gleaming like dull satin. Dear God, she marveled, he is huge! The prick on that boy!
With a ponderous sigh Phil fell back on the bed, listlessly began to finger himself there. He shifted his hips, turned so he could palm himself more easily, and it quickly became evident to Nadine that he was no novice at masturbating; he'd been jacking off for a long time now. Nadine felt suffocatingly hot and flushed now, almost feverish. She was assailed by two warring emotions-shame and titillation. She knew she couldn't remain hidden like this, watch Phil's ugly little diversion to its ultimate conclusion. She knew she must burst from the closet at any moment, reveal herself, offer lame explanations. But how could she? How could she mortify her son-and herself-so grossly?
So she remained in her hiding place, her throat parched, her eyes bulging; she watched every new development with rabid concentration. She'd never watched a man at solitary play before. And when the male was her very own son, her trepidations were easily understandable.
Now Phil's cock was wet and glistening with his lubrication outpour as he slowly, steadily pumped on his penis. Some of his oil dribbled down the length of his cock, wet his thumb and fingers, enhanced his erotic sensations. Deliberately he wet his digits further, writhed and whimpered as he drubbed his purplish glans with them on each upstroke, the extra agitation making his oils flow even more copiously. By now his eyes were closed, and his hips bobbed and ground on the bedspread more wildly. His cries became louder, more urgent, more pathetic, and instead of just sensing shame, Nadine knew pity for her son. That he should be forced to employ such shallow substitutes for the real thing, when women-girls-were so easily had. Surely Steve wouldn't have settled for such a makeshift release. If she knew him, he'd already fucked that silly Sally Montfort black and blue-more than once, she'd wager. Her compassion for Phil grew.
But the worst of it was yet to come, for now Phil did an incredible, stunning thing-a thing that made Nadine doubt her senses for a moment. For now he was balancing on his shoulders and neck, bracing his buttocks with his hands, almost as if preparing to execute the bicycle-rider's exercise. But no, his legs didn't just go up in the air in the usual position. Instead they were slowly lowered, until they became counter balanced, bent his body in a complete bow, so he was supported mainly on his back and shoulders, his feet almost touching the headboard, his long, dripping prick virtually hanging in his face.
Then, even before Nadine could assimilate the weird departure, her heart was driven even higher into her throat, and she sucked in a low, shocked gasp. No, she raged, dear Lord, no! Not my Phil! It can't be. Not my baby! He can't be queer; he can't be a homosexual!
But it would appear that was the case. There was no mistaking the boy's intent. He was definitely attempting to bend his body to an even more wicked arc. He was actually trying to suck his own cock! His legs flailed and balanced, opened wide in vain attempt to bend his spine and scant few inches needed for him to wrap his yearning, frustrated lips around the dripping prick. Of course Nadine couldn't begin to suspect that the act was natural, no symptom of homosexuality at all. Phil was simply in the deepest throes of male, adolescent lust. Since he couldn't have the comfort of a female cunt, of a female mouth, then he would make do with his own mouth. When those primal urges came over a callow lad, there were no limits to the sexual experimentations he would attempt.
Thus it was with Phil. He wanted more than mere masturbation this afternoon. He wanted something hot, wet and milking wrapped around his screaming prod. And since there was no suitable alternative available He grunted and squirmed, fought crazily to get his cock that much closer to his mouth. Failing in this, he stretched his tongue as far as it would go in vain attempt to lick the tip of his cock. But once more he was defeated. Only a contortionist could have accomplished that feat.
Throughout this most pagan of all pantomimes Nadine stood frozen in the closet, her eyes agape, her breath searing her throat, a huge, sadistic claw ripping her guts. She was amazed to find her right hand buried in her crotch, clenching her cunt in hard, frantic kneading, the wet sliding of her cuntlips on the swollen pearl of her clit driving her half crazy.
But even more incredible than this voyeuristic relapse was the torrid heat in her belly, the booming pulse of her heart. She knew despair, fear, thinking that her son was exhibiting homosexual tendencies. But even more strongly she felt dizzying, crushing compassion for her son in his moment of need. For when a human being is driven that low by desire for sexual gratification, when he must satisfy himself in such a base way Her heart yearned, reached out for him.
But these futile efforts were far from the end of Phil's disgrace. For now, his face contorted in agonized frustration, in rage at being denied even this release, he adjusted still further. Now his hand wrapped completely around his pubescent prick; it instantly became apparent to Nadine that he firmly intended to masturbate in that grotesque position-he intended to shoot his sperm into his own mouth!
Then Nadine could endure no more. Her heart went out to Phil. My son, my baby, she keened inwardly, her heart breaking. I must go to him. I must help him. Now that he needs me, needs his mother so desperately.
I made him this way, she chanted. I'm to blame. Darren and me-and our insufferable neglect. Yes, Phil, yes, yes. Wait, please wait. Mommy's coming. Mommy Then the closet door silently rumbled aside, and moving like a demented wraith, she was floating across the room, toward the bed, toward her suddenly frozen, terrified son. It's all my fault, she lashed herself. If I made him this way, turned him into a pervert, then it's up to me to change him, to make amends.
Her eyes rolled in fanatic frenzy, her hands stretched pleadingly toward her transfixed son.
"Mom...." he gasped stupidly.
"It's all right, Phil," she chanted dully, "all right. Don't be afraid darling. Mother's here. Yes, Phil ... my darling Phil. Here, let Mother do that for you!"
CHAPTER SIX
Phil lurched, loosed a low, incredulous moan. His eyes bulged, fear, shock and dismay registering in them. His mouth opened and closed, fought to form justifying words, but no sound came out. Shamed to the depths of his soul, he slowly lowered his legs, dropped his hands to cover his cock.
In that brief instant Nadine saw unmistakable testament of what shame can do to a man. For almost immediately his proud prick turned limp, and Phil's hands clutched more convulsively, as if he feared punishment, retaliation for the gross sin of playing with himself. Even so, her rampaging emotions carried her on. Compassion was still there-and with it mind-blitzing lust. If this is what Phil wants, she reasoned wildly, if he's at that age, ready for a woman-if he needs a female-a cunt-that terribly She railed against disapproving gods, against age-old taboos. I will, I will! Let me do it! Let me give this to my son. Who can better teach a son than his own mother?
Now the paralyzed boy finally reacted. And as he saw the determined light in his mother's eyes, as she moved to drag his hands away from his depleted cock, he croaked, "Oh, Mom! Don't, please don't!"
But if the boy expected censure, stem punishment from a wrathful parent, he was even further amazed. For instead, his mother only stared hungrily at his exposed penis. Then she dreamily reached for him, touched and basketed his limp worm, the whole of his balls. With an eerie, wistful sigh, she fell upon him, instantly began running her lips up and down his hard, tanned, spasming belly. The tickling, maddening sensations swiftly blitzed conscience and will power. Recently delivered from the hot throes of lust, it took no giant step to redeliver him to that gut-knotting compulsion.
Especially when his own mother began kissing and licking his belly, when her tongue stingingly keeled in the crisp hair at the end of his belly, at the base of his rod! Especially when her hands kneaded and lifted his balls, when her fingers toyed with the rubbery curl of his prick, causing it to stiffen and rise again against his own will!
"Mom, Mom, Mom...." he chanted dazedly, "you shouldn't, you shouldn't. That's wrong ... evil! Stop, Mom!" Even so, he made no effort to drag his mother's head, her delicious lips and tongue away from his belly. Instead he was immobilized, turned to an inhuman beast, driven by a cauterizing lust to have his precious mother go further-much further!
Good, good, so good, Nadine reveled as she burrowed her face deeper into Phil's crotch, as she licked the base of his cock, pumped his rigid stalk with demonic fingers. It's so wonderful to love my baby this way. I'll be gentle and kind; I'll teach him everything he should know about love, about pleasing and thrilling a woman!
But then, her own compulsions ungovernable, Phil's gasping and lurching driving her to greater frenzy, she couldn't hold off a moment longer. A sick humming began in her throat; she commenced slithering her hot, wet tongue up the spire of her son's cock. She savored the musty, fishy smell emanating from her son's scrotum; she relished the slight saltiness of his flesh. Even more she relished the agonized squeals emanating from Phil as he thrashed helplessly before her primal adorations. Now his hands came down, his fingers clenched the back of her head, guided her clumsily.
There were no protests, no urging cries. It was doubtful whether any son on earth could have come up with comprehensible comment at such a stunning moment. "Mom, Mom," he continued, the flawed words becoming a chant of love and gratitude. "Oh, Mom!"
Now her tongue had reached the wet, drooling glans, and the taste even saltier, the magnitude of her depravity hitting her like a balled fist, she growled, shuddered, attacked like the cock-starved slut she was. Propriety, consequence, lingering doubts-none of it mattered now. There was only one dominating force in the entire universe so far as Nadine was concerned: Cock! Suck cock! Fuck cock! She'd go out of her mind if she were to be denied now. Dear God, I'll never get enough of it!
Her mouth dropped eagerly on the slimy dome of Phil's prick; it adjusted, savored, gnawed and sucked with precise, spine-knotting motions-almost as if the wild-eyed harridan had been plying her perverted trade all her life. Down, down, her mouth wet, swallowing as much of the delectable, odorous meat as it possibly could. Only when the blunt head dead-ended in her throat, making her gag, did she draw back. All the way to the tip, where her lips formed a cruel siphon, noisily popped and slurped. Then down again in slow, relentless slide, her lips wringing, her tongue flogging, her teeth scoring the underside of his shaft, making Phil squeal muffled, thrash his hips up in reflexive attempt to fuck that mouth, fuck that throat-his mother's mouth and throat-with his screaming prick.
Afterward, Nadine wasn't to remember whether her vainglorious resolve was real, whether she'd really intended to suck her son off, to make him come in her mouth. But, as it turned out, it was taken out of her hands, for scant moments later, Phil lost control.
"No, Mom, no!" he gasped. "Stop now, please! I can't hold it any more! I can't, I can't! I'm going to come! I'm going to shoot!"
He made feeble attempt to drag his mother's face away from his boiling pipe, but it was already too late. Nadine groaningly refused to let loose; she tightened her mouth on his cockhead all the more determinedly. Her milking lips moved up and down his rod faster, still faster!
Phil squealed swinishly, clamped his hands behind his mother's head, drove it up and down on his prick, as if it were a sharpening device-a self-milker! His heart would seemingly burst, his brain fragment to a million pieces at the incredibly dirty, gut-busting sensations that ripped him. He knew shame, he knew remorse for doing this filthy thing to his mother, using her this way. But on the other hand he knew a sadistic sense of omnipotence and mastery over this woman, over this inferior being-this lowly vessel, receptacle for his ejaculation! He groaned, thrashed, humped even more viciously, crazy to fuck-to fuck his mother's mouth!
But if the boy thought he was defiling his mother, if he thought that Nadine was suffering pain, he was dead wrong. For Nadine was in heaven, she was transfigured with delight, with a subservient ecstasy the likes of which she'd never known. This was better-a thousand times better-than sucking off Wynn, than swallowing his come! For this was her baby, her son! If she could delight and satisfy him, then she was happy; her life mission was being fulfilled.
Thus she sucked more passionately, more thirstily; she wrung the jaw-breaking stalk with heathenish gusto. And as she felt those first throbbings at the base of his cock, felt the fat hose whip in her throat, as she husbanded each new glob of his semen up the length of his prick, she knew an exalting sense of victory and dominance. Again and again she gnawed forth a new spurt of his seed, again and again she felt it splat the roof of her mouth, again and again she gulped it down her throat-a gift straight from heaven.
And still, despite Phil's protests, she kept sucking and stripping and pulling at his phallus, long after the last of his sap had been spilled.
"No, Mom," he pleaded, mortification and fear returning once the transcending emotions of orgasm had passed, "no, please, no more! It's bad enough ... what we've done ... we shouldn't...."
She laughingly drew her mouth away from his depleted pod, fixed him with a imperious stare. "Never mind, darling," she assured him, "it's all right. I can explain all this, make you see the truth. But for now...." She licked his cockhead saucily, feathered her tongue to rape the tender slit. "Mother knows best. Let Mother have her own way. After all, she's got something coming too, doesn't she? For herself?"
At which Phil shivered in terror, collapsed on the bed. He stared desolately at the ceiling, his face stricken, as if Satan himself were staring back at him. While, all the while, his mother-his beloved mother-continued to lick and suck his prick, his balls, the hairy terminus of his belly.
Gradually, Nadine's adorations untiring, Phil was astounded to find his member stiffening again, to find that smoldering heat and urgency reborn in his belly. Slowly his balls refilled, the heat and pressure relentless, and he knew that very shortly he must spill again. Even more maddening was the way his mother chuckled and cooed as his cock slowly hardened, drove her mouth back inch by inch. She was adrift in a blissful limbo. He closed his eyes, the better to savor the heat of his mother's mouth, the tender, brain-carbonizing rasp and tickle of her teeth, tongue and palate on his rod.
Then abruptly, the exquisite homage stopped. He knew panic as his prick was ejected from Eden, as it faced the cold, harsh world alone. The air closed in on the wet stalk, chilled it, chilled his heart, his soul as well. "Mom?" he whimpered, opening his eyes to see her standing beside the bed, her hands behind her back, unbuttoning her blouse.
"Close your eyes baby," she whispered. "Keep them closed. Your mother has to have something now." Then, a few minutes later: "You may open your eyes now, Phil."
His mouth twisted in disbelief as he found Nadine beside the bed, naked. His cock throbbed reflexively; the inferno in his belly bubbled like molten lava. And if he thought he'd needed to shove his cock into something only minutes before, it was nothing compared to the fanatical need now possessing him. Only this time not in his mother's mouth, but between her legs-in her gold-fleeced cunt.
And not some stupid, teasing, teen-aged bitch. Not some dumb broad he couldn't care less about, inexperienced and frightened. No, his mother, his beautiful, kind mother whom he loved-who loved him equally. His holy mother who knew all about sex, who would teach him. His wonderful mother, who had already given him his first, definitive lesson.
The dazzled lad lay in mute, gulping sprawl on the bed, unable to drink in the beauty of his mother's body fast enough. Her proud, firm breasts, the tits standing up like little buds, hard, shiny, irresistibly succulent-swollen with need to be sucked. Her trim waist, the opulent flare of hips and thighs, the slight swell of belly, the gold of her humid cunt, the svelte curve of her legs. Then when his mother smiled, sultrily, self-consciously, when she actually lifted both breasts with her hands as if to ease the fever in them, as if to offer them to his parched lips in the bargain, he truly lost touch. Nothing mattered but carnal knowledge of this forbidden flesh!
Nadine, feeling absolutely whorish, appraised her naked son just as he was appraising her, the excitement, the raw lust in his eyes becoming supreme aphrodisiac to her. He wants me, she gloated, he needs me! He needs me desperately! She gloried in that redeeming aura of being truly wanted. It had been too long since she'd felt essential within the family circle. Even Wynn Maxwell didn't really want hermit was her body, the conquest she represented, that he wanted. But this sublime moment with Phil-this was something else again, totally thrilling, totally exalting.
Her heart kicked wildly as she saw the new stream of oil pump from Phil's penis. I did it! she mused proudly. I brought him back like that. I created this second one. She felt a fresh clenching in her pussy, and then her own lust juices were oozing forth, tickling down her thigh. Dreamily she dropped her hand, swabbed the oil away. Inadvertently she drew her cuntlips open, giving Phil a fleeting glimpse of the slimy, pink flesh within. Then, all control, all decency gone, she shoved her cunt-tainted fingers at Phil, indicated that he should lick her nectar off them.
The boy complied eagerly, attacking the digits with puppy-dog subservience, sucking and licking long after her sap was gone. Again she swabbed her cunt, fed Phil more and more of the juice. And then, her own lust overpowering her, she could endure the foreplay no longer. She had an itch that could be scratched in only one way-by having a hot, hard pecker shoved into her-deep into her yearning belly!
Nadine flung herself at Phil, dragged him into her arms. A moment later they were kissing wildly, their bodies grinding and writhing, their oils coating loins and belly and fingers. "Please, Mom," Phil muttered, "please...."
"Please what, darling?" she teased, thinking he was going to beg permission to fuck her.
"Please let me...." He couldn't bring himself to say the words.
"Please let you what, Phil?"
"Please ... let ... me ... let me lick you! Like you licked and ... sucked me. It's the least I can do."
She laughed delightedly. "No, Phil. Not now. Not everything at once. There'll be other times. But right now, I need you. The way a woman always needs a man. I want you to come into me, to put yourself ... your penis ... your prick ... into me. Now! I need you so terribly."
Despite his rampaging desire, Phil was still reluctant to display his total ignorance of sexual practice. So he dallied, kissing and handling his mother, again trying to slide his head down to her belly. But each time Nadine forestalled him, begged for the real thing-his shaft, buried deep in her famished slit! Then, as his lips brushed her aching, hot tits, she permitted brief diversion. She gently guided his lips to her nipples. And as Phil attacked them with a will, licked and pulled according to her promptings, she knew even greater lust. Remembering the last time Phil had suckled at her breasts, she lapsed into even more perverted frenzies. How evil, how forbidden, she marveled. And yet, how utterly delicious! To have your grown son love and kiss you, suck your nipples, get ready to fuck you black and blue!
Finally she couldn't wait. "Stop, Phil," she hissed. "The real thing now. You know what to do, don't you? Climb up on me ... yes, like that. Between my legs. Open it up with your naughty little fingers. Ooohh, yes, like that. Deeper, get your finger in deeper!" She pointed out her clitoris, promising him simultaneously that one day she'd let him lick it, teach him how to drive her right up the wall. She showed him how to work his cockhead in her vulva, an overture she dearly loved.
"It bums," Phil husked finally. "Please, let me put it in. I can't stand any more of it."
"Oh, yes, darling!" she seethed. "Yes, oh, yes! Put it in. Put your lovely, big prick into me ... into your mother. Fill me with your cock. Yes, like that."
And then, as his shaft nosed slowly into her crack, as his cockhead stretched her so exquisitely, she went completely out of her head. "Fill me, baby, oh, fill me! Fill me! Fill me with your sweet, hot prick! Your hard, raping prick! Oh, Phil ... fill me!" she put deliberate emphasis on his name. "Phil, Phil, Phil!"
She grunted and thrashed, exulted in the sensations coursing through her. She wondered if she could ever be satisfied with any other kind of sex again. Could sex ever be more thrilling, more fulfilling than when it broke age-old taboos? Dear God in Heaven, where have I been all my life?
Greedily she crowded herself under her son's lunging body, adjusted so that his crowbar cock was rasping, filing, raping the bloated pearl of her clit. She twined her legs behind his, crowded him so the angle of his plundering pecker was precise, so it frictioned every erogenous inch of clitoris, vulva, vagina, and cervix. She gloried in the pain he ignited every time he drove too deeply, bottomed in her wringing, begging cunt.
As Phil plowed his cock in and out of her, he gaspingly begged her to tell him whether he was pleasing her, to tell him just how it should be done. Beyond recall by then, she complied eagerly, wantonly, instructed him precisely as to how he should position his body over hers, how he should fuck her, how he should vary his strokes. Most important of all, she taught him how to express himself while he made love to her.
"Say it, Phil," she commanded. "Do you hear me? Say it!"
"I can't, I can't," he protested. "It's wrong, dirty."
"Say it!"
"Cunt!" he spat, forcing the words out. "Mommy's cunt. I'm fucking Mommy's cunt!"
"Isn't that better?" she coaxed. "Doesn't that make you feel wilder, dirtier? Doesn't it make you burn down deep inside, make your pecker ache?"
"Yes, Mother," he choked, his strokes more brutal, more masterful now. "It does. Oh, God, that feeling! Like I want to shove myself right through you, kill you with my ... with my thing."
"Say it," she lashed him. "The words, baby."
"With my prick," he groaned. "I want to shove my prick right through you. Shove it into your cunt. Into your dirty, rotten cunt!"
The outrageous words triggered an instant orgasm for Nadine, and she screamed, wound her legs around her son's flanks, would seemingly drive him-cock, balls, and all-into her yawning slot.
She felt hot, insanely hot! She slammed her body back at his viciously, savored the impact of their pelvises, the coarse grinding of their pubic hair on each forward pounding. "Fuck me, baby," she wheezed, "fuck your mother! Fuck her dirty cunt! Fuck it raw!" And now the volcano erupted, and that magnificent electricity was sparking through every cell of her body, sparking transfiguring rebirth. "Yes, oh, yesss! You're doing just fine, Phil! I'm coming, coming! You're making your mother come. You're making her come with your darling, little-boy prick. Your man prick!"
And yet, frenzied as his need was, Phil didn't come right away. He floundered clumsily, lost the proper angle. Groaning with fear and frustration, he'd start anew. Add to this the fact that he'd been drained only minutes before, and his slowness could be understood.
But if Phil was laggard, his mother was not, and moving with the proficiency of her years, she was quickly squeezing off orgasms for herself one after another. And with each one there came a new outburst of vulgarity, driving Phil to renewed efforts. By now their bodies were slick with sweat, their breathing labored. And even though Nadine wanted to go on forever, she knew there was a cutoff point. For if Phil should give out before climaxing, she'd never forgive herself.
She was supposed to be his mentor, after all. Some teacher she'd be if she failed her son at this most crucial of all moments. Thus she made the final adjustments, arranged his body over hers; she clamped her legs, dug her nails into her buttocks.
"Now, Phil!" she grated. "Mommy's sweet lover! Mommy's big-pricked man! Shove it, oh, shove it! Deep, deep! Fuck me harder! Fast! Faster! Come, you sweet lover, come! Shoot your hot milk into your mother! Shoot your sperm into your mother's dirty cunt! Shoot, do you hear?"
She contracted her cuntal muscles, milked his pile-driving rod mercilessly. This, in combination with her vile words, put Phil over the edge. And as he groaned and howled his delight, shot spurt after spurt into her, Nadine never let up for a minute. "Again, you sweet fucker!" she praised. "You made me come again!"
Afterward they lay in each other's arms, Phil trembling convulsively, uttering small yelps of shame every now and then, while Nadine comforted him as best she could, her own guilt crushing. And yet, evil as their breakdown had been, she knew she was helpless to turn her back on it; no matter what, she'd have to have Phil-this forbidden love-again.
"It was wrong, Mom," Phil said in a weak voice now, "very wrong ... wasn't it?"
"I don't know, darling," she said softly, kissing his eyes, his smooth, firm forehead. "I just don't know. If we needed each other, if we helped each other ... then it wasn't wrong." She caressed his back. "Don't worry about it. I'll explain it all to you sometime ... why this happened. Then maybe you won't feel so bad about it. You'll just have to believe in Mother, darling. Everything's going to be all right. Blame it all on me if that will help."
"No, no, Mom," he protested. "I could never do that. I could never blame you. It was me ... what I was doing when you come in ... that started it all. My fault...."
"No fault," she sighed softly, kissing and rocking him. "It just happened. For all we know it'll happen again. Again and again. Whenever we need each other." She held him closer, and they both sensed an all-encompassing sense of peace and love. They both knew that everything would be all right if they just waited long enough-if they just believed strongly enough.
The Farrar residence was not the only place in Framingham accommodating evil this fretful summer afternoon; there were ugly things taking place at the Wynn Maxwell house today, also.
In one of the upstairs bathrooms, the lovely Lauri Maxwell and her huge German shepherd, Borgia, were unsuspectingly hovering on the brink of mischief as well.
Borgia, whimpering in the master bathroom, was reluctantly submitting to a badly needed bath. Well trained and docile, he'd put up a minor fuss at first, but after a few sharp slaps from his mistress, he'd reconciled himself to his fate, settled into the tub. And now, wet to the skin, the soapsuds piling up on his body, he was almost enjoying Lauri's attentions.
It was hot in the bathroom, and in anticipation of messy splashing, the lovely Mrs. Maxwell worked in just her panties and brassiere. But as she scrubbed the dog, her mind was a million miles away-troubled with the strange impasse that had developed lately between her and her husband.
It wasn't the first impasse that Lauri Maxwell had suffered through-she knew the signs well. Every time it had happened before, it had meant but one thing: Lover-boy Wynn had a woman on his mind. A woman other than his wife.
And Wynn had been definitely distant lately. It was almost as if they lived in two different worlds. Despite the pain, Lauri pondered just who her husband's new love might be. It was no big problem, really. Used to Wynn's roving ways, she merely had to think back to that party two weeks back. That was where the old fool generally did his operating. Get some dumb hausfrau liquored up, ply her with a little flattery, and she caved in like an antique chair. Failing that, there was time for plotting; a rendezvous was easily arranged.
Her thoughts focused on that party, and she began weeding out the possibles. Nadine Farrar's name almost immediately surfaced. Maybe dumb Darren hadn't tumbled to the fact that his wife had sneaked off with Wynn for a half-hour or so, but it hadn't got past her. She'd seen Wynn following Nadine around all evening, his nose practically up her ass. She'd wager that he'd fucked her on the lawn if nothing else. And failing that-Wynn had ways. God, doesn't he always have ways?
Lauri's eyes narrowed. Well he wasn't with Nadine this afternoon, that was for sure. She'd called the office a half-hour ago; he was on the job for a change. Nadine, is it? she mused. That antiseptic little bitch. Well, have fun, Wynn. But don't be surprised if I do a little cheating on the side, too.
An amusing conjecture hit her just then. And why the hell not? If Wynn can breathe some life into prissy-pants Nadine, then maybe, just maybe, I can do the same with fuddy-duddy Darren.
Immediately her mind began to whir with possible plans and counterplans. Poor, pompous Darren, she commiserated. He'll never know what hit him. Now how-just how do I deliver the message?
But shortly her concentration was broken, as she heard Borgia whining, a strange, urgent sound to his voice. She woke up to find herself with both hands immersed in the tub, her fingers playing nonstop with the poor mutt's pecker. She giggled at her miscue. A Freudian slip? she kidded. A Pavlovian reflex would be more like it.
She looked down at the dog, felt quick arousal as she saw the way he was squirming his haunches in the tub, straining to lick her face. Horny, aren't you? she thought, the combination of her erotic thoughts and the inadvertent excitation of her dog getting to her, making her cunt tingle and burn. Well, welcome to the club. Deliberately she wrapped her hand around Borgia's long, thin cock, gave it a firm, rapid stripping. The dog yipped, froze, the better to savor his mistress' evil attentions. Wowee she mused. Talk about hot dogs! What a whang Borgia's got!
Minutes later, the bath finished, a very persistent itch in her twat, the crotch of her panties awash with her oils, Lauri quickly pulled Borgia out of the tub, put him on a rug where she toweled him briskly. It was Borgia himself who precipitated the next development. As now, a definite musk in the air, he lowered his head to where his mistress knelt on the floor, began sniffing her odorous cunt. And when Lauri didn't notice, he nuzzled her harder, drove his nose right into the squishy folds.
"You dirty boy," Lauri laughed. "You do know how to get to a girl, don't you?" She enjoyed the byplay, even went so far as to spread her legs a little wider so he could get at her better. And as the dog began to lick her slime-soaked crotch, she got very itchy indeed. Chalk it up to Wynn not coming around for a over a week, she mused. And with that, she leaned forward, laid her head on his damp back, reached under his belly again, recommenced fondling his doggy prick. Her vile attentions made the brute wriggle and whimper, and he licked her all the harder.
Lauri Maxwell shuddered helplessly, was skewered by a sense of pure evil. She'd heard about women and dogs, but she'd never really believed such things happened. And yet, here it was-the real thing. All she had to do was take advantage of it. Hey, maybe I'm onto something good, she joked. Or thought she was joking. You never know until you try. The old maid's delight.
Abruptly she stood, pulled away from Borgia, who pursued her, sniffing her cunt all the while. Locking the bathroom door just in case her daughters, Priscilla and Jasmin, might get home early, she quickly stepped out of her panties, tore away her bra. Suddenly, her brain spinning, she felt like she was on fire, drowning between her legs.
Now she knelt before Borgia again, toyed with his prick anew. Deliberately she guided his head toward her bosom, thought maybe he'd lick her tits. But the animal merely gave each breast an indifferent nosing, then returned to rooting between her legs. Struck by inspiration, Lauri reached down to her crotch, caught up some of her juices, spread them on each boob.
Instantly Borgia was alert, all over her, his big wet tongue lolling over her tits, the sensation driving her deeper into a degenerate trance. Again and again she brought cunt oil to her breasts, let Borgia lick it off with his deliciously rough, sandpapery tongue, until she was so hot she couldn't stand it. Now she rose, poised herself on the edge of the tub, spread her legs to their widest. She had but to point Borgia's head in the right direction, and he was instantly on her, lapping her labia like a cat was holed up in her cunt.
The sensation was heavenly, fantastically exciting and evil, and almost without knowing it, Lauri found herself leaning back slightly, balancing against the wall. She held her cuntlips open with her fingers so the dog's tongue could probe deeper. But always, when she seemingly verged on coming, the animal lost interest, and she was forced to lean over him, toy with his cock again. In and out the long, hot, wet tongue went, and lust-for female and canine both-mounted rapidly.
Then came the ultimate desecration. As Borgia jumped up at his mistress, wrapped his forepaws around her leg, humped his hindquarters, his hard, drooly prick up against her. And they both knew it was that time. Lust-crazed by then, Lauri was up to anything. The evil, licking fires roaring now, a compulsion to wallow routing any last shreds of conscience and decency, she stood up, tremblingly turned her back to Borgia. Slowly she knelt on the floor, rested her arms on the edge of the tub. Splaying her legs slightly, she humped her rear up to the dog.
Borgia needed no second invitation. Instantly his tongue was lapping her crack from the back, slithering up to lick her sweaty asshole, and she moaned with ragged pleasure, thought she'd die from the madhouse sensations his coarse tongue triggered in her gash. But the doggy adoration t lasted only briefly. Now she felt him scrambling up onto her back, draping his paws over her shoulders, his wet, hot pantings loud in her ear. She felt his slimy cock sliding and stabbing at her rear. Fearful that the dog would unload before she saw the evil deed through, she actually reached back, guided his long, skinny prick into her cunt with her own fingers.
Borgia whimpered gratefully, began humping her frantically, the act delivering more pain than pleasure to Lauri. Then, when it became apparent that she'd derive little satisfaction of her own from the abomination, she groped between her legs, began fingering her lust-bloated clit. The dog whined more pathetically then, fought for better position on her back. His cock went in and out of her furiously now. Mrs. Maxwell's finger strummed more wildly, matched him stroke for stroke.
Finally, her slit frictioned raw by his savaging cock, she heard Borgia's anguished yips of release begin. She felt his hot, watery gunk shoot into her cunt. She truly lashed her clit then, triggered a simultaneous orgasm, and moments later fell to the floor in a scrambling, panting heap.
Hell of a note, she concluded bitterly as Borgia clambered off her, contemptuously sniffed her pussy, took a censuring stance across the bathroom from her, when a gal's gotta settle for a goddamned dog.
Time, she decided mentally. Time old Lauri got her show on the road. Watch out, Darren! Time little Lauri does her thing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
During the days that followed her seduction of her own son, Nadine Farrar suffered the agonies of the damned. Alone at home, she actually wept, actually begged a wrathful God for forgiveness. And how could she have been so weak, so insufferably depraved as to commit that heinous thing with poor, innocent Phil? To suck him off as she had? To mouth his defeated phallus back to life, eventually coerce him into fucking her, fucking her to a limp, sated swoon? And that scatological litany she'd extorted from him at the last.
There were days when she wished she were dead, when she even went so far as to consider suicide. For it was obvious that things were going to get worse instead of better. Darren was still ignoring her, still refusing to have anything to do with her sexually. And where his strength and stability might have helped her regain equilibrium during this most desperate of times, even this consolation was denied her.
Indeed, there were moments when she was sure that Darren-and Steve, even-must suspect what had happened between her and Phil. Certainly their grotesque misdeeds must be written in their faces for all the world to see. At times she wished she could control herself better, not show the subtle deference to Phil that she did. How could Darren and Steve miss the feverish, haunted glances passing between her and Phil?
More frightening than this was the hot compassion that exploded her heart whenever Phil stared at her with those lost, frightened eyes. If she could just make Phil understand that the burden of guilt was on her shoulders, and not his-that she was totally responsible for the raging cancer infecting their lives.
But for more than a week they'd avoided that inevitable confrontation. Their shame was too oppressive. Every time she attempted to be alone with Phil, he made a point of escaping, refusing to speak of their lewd behavior with her.
Then, when Darren and Steve both questioned her about the change in Phil, when they commented on his wan, preoccupied appearance of late, she knew true terror. She must get through to Phil soon, lest everything blow up in their faces, bring down this while pathetic house of cards they'd built.
Beyond this was the fact that Wynn Maxwell had been hot after her lately, his calls urgent and constant, all ending with the eternal plea: When were they going to see each other again? When would she permit him to make love to her again? But the prospect was unthinkable, with her mind so mixed up as it was now. To layer more guilt upon her present total of shame would surely topple whatever tenuous stability she possessed these days.
As if all this wasn't bad enough, there were even more grievous, more mocking reveries eating at her. Reveries in which she and Phil were together again, doing those gross things again. Once more she was sucking his sweet boyish prick; she was reveling in his ingenue reactions, in the wild dismay of his expression, in the helpless thrashings of his body. And remembering how his prick had felt and tasted when he'd erupted in her mouth, remembering how it had felt going in and out of her salacious, sluttish crack, she'd be wet between her legs again, she'd actually writhe her hips, clench her thighs in unrequited lust. She'd be crazy to perform those forbidden acts all over again!
And how many afternoons had she tossed and ground her unprincipled buttocks on her bed, her skirt flung up, her panties gone? How many times had she masturbated to panting, groaning orgasm, her finger flicking her clit like a violin virtuoso bowing the maddest of tarantellas? While, with every dig of her lascivious fingers, her filthy mind was alive with pictures of her and Phil in bed again, doing the most obscene things together?
Finally there had come an afternoon when, both alone in the house, they could forestall their need no longer. Another day of this torment, and they would go stark raving mad.
And what happened?
They caved in to their depraved lusts all over again. They went to bed together again. They sucked and mauled and fucked like unregenerate animals; they kept at each other hour after hour!
Oh, yes, there was talk, honest attempt to rationalize their first relapse. Nadine fought to convince Phil that it wasn't the end of the world, that it hadn't been his fault. She even went so far as to inform her son of the standoff existing between her and his father, how passionless their marriage truly was, this by way of justifying their sick surrender to forbidden passions.
But then, it was too late. All Phil had needed to do was to stare at her with that feverish yearning and she'd caved in almost instantly. A caress, a motherly kiss, the crush of two supercharged bodies. Instant inferno! Instant ecstasy!
Almost before they knew it they were breathing hard, Phil's mouth at her breasts, his hands groping beneath her skirt, her hands unzipping his trousers, drawing out his already dripping cock, her famished mouth almost instantly dropping on the delectable, beautiful stalk, commencing to lick and suck it like it was the sweetest of candies.
And finally, that voluptuary afternoon over, they'd both known they were irredeemably lost. They'd known that their love couldn't end. Not just yet! The fever must be given its head; it must run its course. They must have each other! Again and again!
Thus two more afternoon love sessions had transpired since. And in between, agonizing doubts and guilts. At least until the gut-wringing fires of need were sparked again-and the only thing that mattered in the whole universe was a new mother-and-son orgy. Greedily, heedlessly, all stops out, they fled to the bedroom, locked the world behind them!
And this steamy summer afternoon, the air-conditioning blasting, Nadine and Phil were once more in his bedroom, naked, writhing and hissing as they sank deeper and deeper into the consuming quicksand of lust. Today shame and guilt were forgotten; all that existed was sensual abandon. Darren was away, even now at the airport, preparatory to boarding a flight to Chicago; he wouldn't return until late tomorrow evening. And Steve? At one of his eternal swimming meets, this one for the summer championship; wild horses couldn't have kept him from it.
And so, the added dimension of total security and privacy. No one would pry, no one would interrupt. Every filthy act, every degenerate cry-and nobody would hear, nobody would know.
"Yes, Phil," Nadine hissed now, squirming and adjusting her hips to even more wanton invitation, "oh, yes, yes! Lick Mommy! Lick her until she can't stand it any more, until she begs you to stop!"
But there was a difference to their session today, in that Nadine had now taught Phil how to brace her back with his thighs and belly, how to pedestal her cunt, throw the weight of her body onto her upper shoulders and neck. And now, her legs flailing dreamily in the air above his head, her lick-famished cunt staring him directly in the face, she sank into deeper frenzy. She could see her son's handsome face, his rapt expression, his pointed, pink tongue in vivid detail as it scoured her vulva, rooted her clitoris from its hiding place.
In and out his loving tongue went; round and round, gradually zeroing in on the swollen, screaming-to-be-sucked passion pearl. "Please, please, baby!" she grated. "Don't torture me, don't make me wait anymore! You little monster! You do know how to torment your mother, don't you? Please, Phil! Lick my clit! Suck my little passion tit
... my passion cherry. Oh, God, I want it, I need it so badly!"
And then, just as she'd taught him, her son began to slather at her clitoris. His attentions were gentle, teasing at first. But then, with precise lap and suck, he intensified his attack. His lips became a tiny siphon, pulled at the slimy tit, held it captive for a sadistically flogging tongue, until Nadine squealed and flopped, begged him to stop, swore that she couldn't stand another second of it.
"Please, please, darling! Oh, no more! I'm dying, do you hear? I can't stand it! Stop, please, stop!"
But Phil, expert cunt-sucker now, didn't stop. He knew just how the game should be played. He relished the sadistic aspects of this part of their overtures. If he could make his beloved mother come like this, if he could make her scream in intolerable agony, if he could preheat her insatiable gash, guarantee all-stops-out sex for them both "I'm coming!" she gulped. "Coming! Oh, so hard, so hot! You monster, you adorable, little monster! You fantastic cunt-sucker! Eeee ... oh, eeeyow!"
Finally the degenerate prelude was finished, and sighing thickly, her hips waggling, Nadine slid away from Phil. Collapsing into a satisfied puddle, she waited for her breath to even out. But then, catching sight of Phil's steepled cock, his fuck oil streaming down its veined length with irresistible allure, she couldn't wait another second. If I don't get that in my mouth soon! she raged.
Phil laughed, braced her head, confidently guided her mouth onto his rod. No childish inhibitions or guilt remained now. Cocks were made to be sucked. Women were made to suck them. And if that woman turned out to be a boy's own mother, no matter. Who could do a better job, after all? He gasped, felt his asshole pucker as the hot, soothing mouth closed on him, as it pumped up and down. His mother's famished, slurpy sighs thrilled him further, and he seized a sadistic fillip by jamming her head down hard, the feel of his cock banging the back of her throat, her gagging squeals of delighted protest making his guts bubble all the more depravedly.
Sweet Jesus! he exulted. How did I ever live without this? How could I ever go on living without Mom'? Mom and her fantastic, cocksucking mouth-her fantastic cunt? God, but I love her!
But then, when Nadine got carried away, when she sucked him too hard, too devotedly, he tried pulling away. Reluctantly she released his cock, stared up at him, dark yearning in her eyes. "Please, Phil?" she husked, her lips shining wetly, saliva and fuck oil dribbling down her chin. "Let me? You know how much I love to finish you off. If I get you hard again afterwards? I swear I will."
"No, Mom," he argued. "I don't want it that way today. You know how I like that first one. In your belly ... spurting up your cunt."
"All right, darling," .Nadine acceded disappointedly. "But just a little more? Let me get you good and hot. And, baby?"
"Yes, Mom?"
"Play with my cunt while I suck you. Get my bottom wet like I taught you. Slide your finger into me there."
He rolled his eyes roguishly, and used his mother's own tricks on her. "Put my finger in? I'm afraid I don't understand. Put my finger where?"
Nadine giggled dirtily. "You little devil. You do learn fast, don't you?"
"I've got the world's best teacher, remember? You were saying, darling?"
"Get your finger juicy," she repeated with a lewd growl. "Put it into my bottom."
"Your what?"
"Into my ass, damn you! Into your mother's dirty asshole!"
And with that she dropped her head again, stripped his cock with demented fervor. She drubbed the glans with the flat of her tongue, worked the washboard of her palate on the dome. She filed it with her teeth. Very quickly Phil had his index finger wet from her cunt. Now, with deliberate, skillful motions he began corkscrewing his slimy finger into the hair-fringed hole inch by excruciating inch. Nadine groaned, whimpered, wriggled her buttocks salaciously at him, fought to give him even greater access. Her evil lips wrung his stalk cruelly, and she considered disobeying him, sucking him off just the same. If she could just get him that close to the line Thus it was, each preoccupied with his own devices, that neither heard the back door open downstairs. They didn't hear Steve Farrar's puzzled, "Hello, anybody home?" They didn't hear him take the carpeted stairs two at a time. By then, it was altogether too late. Overconfident, positive of their privacy, they'd forgotten to lock the bedroom door.
All at once the boy was standing in the doorway, his jaw agape, his eyes bulging in his head. He was staring down at the heathen tableau with a stunned, incredulous expression. A suddenly still, frozen tableau, as Phil and Nadine simultaneously noticed him. And there it was-Nadine with her mouth stretched to breaking point by her son's cock-Phil's finger in his mother's ass, the other in her weeping cunt.
It was Nadine who reacted first. Her lips came away with a loud sucking plop, and she stupidly blurted, "Steve! I thought you were at the swimming pool!"
And just as stupidly, as if he stumbled upon his mother sucking off his brother every day of his life, he answered. "I got disqualified in the second race. I got a cramp." Then his brain spun back to this present horror, and his face contorted with loathing. "Mother! Phil! What in hell's going on here?"
He whirled, made a break for the door. But Nadine was too fast for him. Leaping from the bed, she slammed the door shut, stood with her back to it, her eyes wide, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her belly and breasts heaving with terror. "No, Steve!" she spat. "You don't run away. You stay right here. Until Mother explains. Until Mother makes you understand-"
"Understand?" he stormed, his eyes filled with hatred. "What's to understand? When a guy comes home, catches his own mother in bed with his brother? Her mouth wrapped around his cock? You make me sick! Get away from me, before I heave all over the floor."
"No, Steve," Nadine commanded, amazed at her own composure in this desperate situation, "I won't get out of your way. Listen, son. Hear me out. There's an explanation for all this."
Stunned to immobility, Steve let himself be pushed into a chair; he sat stolidly while Nadine flung a wrapper over her nakedness, while Phil draped the sheets over his lower body. He continued to sit as his mother patiently, quietly began to compare Steve, to compare his confidence and aggressiveness to the introverted timidity of his younger brother.
Though Phil squirmed uncomfortably throughout the critique, though he yearned to interrupt, deny that such variances existed, he did no such thing. He sat in stiff, stricken silence, knowing full well that it was an argument his mother had to win, or else Steve would run to Dad, and there would be hell to pay.
"So while you were out sticking your thing into that trampy Sally Montfort, getting your kicks right and left, you were beating out your own brother. He was eating his heart out. So much so that his only outlet was masturbation. Then that afternoon I was up here cleaning, and I caught him at it, and-"
"Oh, Mom," Phil interrupted exasperatedly, "do you have to tell him everything?"
"Be quiet, Phil," she snapped. "It's necessary, if Steve's to understand how this started."
"Golly, Phil," Steve said, filled with compassion of his own, "I didn't know you had it for Sally. You coulda had her. If you'd just let a guy know. She'll take on both of us, that's the kind of pig she is."
"I don't want her," Phil blurted, "I want Mom. She's the best in the world. No other girl ... no other woman can begin to compare-"
"That's enough, Phil," Nadine said, feeling they'd just lost ground. "Now listen, Steve. I don't care if you know about this or not. I just want you to understand, to forgive if you can. If you tell anyone ... if you run to your dad, it'll be the end of us all. The end of our family as it exists. Would you want that?"
"Well, no ... of course not, Mom. But what can I do? How do you expect a guy to accept a thing like what I just saw ... to forget it?"
"I don't know what to tell you, Steve. But you must. I was doing it to help your brother ... to help myself as well. Someday I'll tell you about that. But for now...." Crazy pleading filled her eyes. "I'd have done as much for you, Steve, you have to believe that. I'd do it for you now, if you want-"
"Mom!" he yelped protestingly. "Don't! You can't mean that! Don't say those things!"
Nadine advanced on Steve slowly, her eyes narrowing, her whole manner suddenly seductive. Deliberately she let the wrapper fall open, to reveal her lush, opulent body. "You've got your mother where you want her," she wheedled sultrily. "You can blackmail her if you want ... force me to do almost anything now." Suddenly a very evil-thrillingly evil-idea struck. Both my sons! she raged. Oh, if only that could be! Dreamily she sank to her knees before Steve, hobbled toward him, a licentious glaze to her eyes. "Would you like that, Steve? Your mother turned into your slave? Your mother sucking you off ... any vile thing you might want?"
Her jerked, rage contorting his features. "No, I don't want you that way ... for my slave. You're my mother, and I love you no matter what ... I...."
Nadine took a great chance, slowly, gravely laid her hand on the hard bulge in Steve's jeans. "Well, then, what if I just gave you what I gave Phil? What if I sucked you, let you do whatever you want with me? You and Phil can share me. Wouldn't you like that, Steve?"
His face became a battleground of conflicting desires. "Oh, Mom, you shouldn't talk like that. I shouldn't even think those things. I...."
He jerked as if someone had jabbed him with a pin when Nadine unbuckled his belt, began drawing down his zipper.
"I'll do it right now, Steve. Wouldn't you like that? To have your mother suck your cock? I'll bet even Sally Montfort won't do that for you. Don't be afraid, darling. Just relax, let your mother take care of it all for you...."
As of that moment the confused youth was completely out of it. Everything was happening too fast. First the sick tableau on the bed, then this! His own mother opening his trousers, digging out his stone-hard cock, groveling before him, her eyes wild. He whimpered as she hobbled closer, began to lick his oil off the tip of his aching phallus. He was mesmerized by the sight, by the sensations ripping his spine. Next he looked down, found Nadine reverently sucking, her eyes locked with his, her expression sultry, somehow mocking.
There was no turning back now. Had his life depended upon it, he couldn't have plucked his dick from those hot, milking lips; he couldn't have bolted from this bedroom!
He whimpered more piteously, slumped in his chair, so his mother could swallow even more of his salty cock. Shortly he trembled, great drops of sweat glistening on his forehead. And once Steve began to buck back at his mother's proficiently stripping lips, her crowding teeth and palate, once he began to grunt deep in his throat, his fate was sealed. He was forever sworn to silence by the fact of his own complicity-by the fact that, at that selfsame moment, a bewildered, lost squeal bubbling in his throat, he let loose; jetted long, ropey gobs of sperm down his beloved mother's throat!
Afterward, when Steve was naked, sprawled on the bed with Nadine and Phil, there was time for explanation of the causatives behind their unnatural relationship. Both his mother and his brother filling him in on those crucial points of technique he'd missed, he quickly accepted membership in their sin cult. Especially after Nadine attacked his limp penis again, sucked it back to surging virility again. Then, when she taught him how to kiss her, how to suck her breasts, how she liked her cunt to be licked Nadine, for her part, was delirious with joy at this unexpected development. She was at peace with herself, gratified at the love her sons so obviously felt for each other. Not once did either lad show any sign of jealousy. How good it was to share love with these two males, the males she loved more than anything or anyone else in the whole world!
And even more insane conjecture sparked in her mind just then. If only the impasse between her and Darren could be resolved; if Darren could understand this incredible liaison between her and her sons, if he could learn to accept it, to go along even. Wouldn't that be heavenly? To be loved-sexually loved-by all the men in my life? My sons, my husband-all loving me, being loved by me-simultaneously! Instantly her mind rampaged, and she tried to imagine just how such a triple accommodation could be affected.
But for now, just her two babies were problem enough. An immediate problem, as Steve now prepared to fuck his mother for the very first time. She lay languorously on the bed, her nipples hard as stone, her belly spasming uncontrollably in anticipation of having that lovely, hard prick shoved into her vagina. My boys, she exulted, beside herself with ecstasy, my beautiful, handsome boys! My big-pricked boys! Oh, the times we'll have!
Then Phil was helping his brother arrange her legs, murmuring advice, telling Steve just how Nadine liked to be fucked. "Go in slow the first time, Steve. Be gentle with her. Ride high on her body, so your cock always slides across her clit. And when she starts coming, she likes to have a finger up her ass. Make it last for her, hang on as long as you can. You won't be sorry; she'll give you a ride you'll never forget."
Phil, my angel, she sighed inwardly, melting inside as he helped his brother into the saddle, as he leaned to suck his mother's nipples while Steve's cob slowly, exquisitely trundled into her slimy nest. My darling boy. You make me feel so loved! And how I love you!
"Up here, Phil," she instructed. "Kneel over me. Your lovely prick ... in my mouth. While Steve fucks my cunt."
As Phil hurriedly squirmed his way up, she strained her neck to observe the already pumping Steve. "How am I, darling," she teased. "Compared to Sally? Does your loose old mother please you? Is she good?"
"You are, Mom, you are," Steve replied ardently. "You are fantastic, the absolute best. Maybe Sally's tighter, but she doesn't know how to use what she's got. The things you do with your muscles ... with your cu-"
"Say it, Steve," Nadine urged. "I won't mind."
"With your cunt, your hot cunt!" He groaned in actual agony. "Murder, pure murder! Mother! You're so good!"
"Oh, Steve, my adorable baby! Yes, go, angel! Ram it! Oh, fuck! Fuck your mother! Fuck your evil mother!"
She forced a brief pause-just before Phil funneled his cock into her mouth. "Together, my darlings? You will both try to come together, won't you? I'd love that so much!"
The tandem fuck began, and Nadine was swiftly transported to pervert's paradise. A cock plundering her cunt. Another raping her throat. A fat, greasy finger shoved up her ass. What woman could ask for more?
She felt them both begin spitting simultaneously, their seed hot and thick, one spurt being gulped down her throat, the other sluicing high into her hole, seemingly candying her womb.
She screamed, thrashed, strained to bring mouth and cuntlips to precise play, strained to milk every last ounce of muck from each cock, to milk every last iota of filthy sensation for herself as well.
The fuck-addled female couldn't remember when, in her entire life, she'd ever been happier, when she'd felt more fulfilled.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Contrary to Nadine's beliefs, her husband, Darren, had not flown to Chicago this afternoon. Even as she and her two sons lay dozing-Steve's head on her breast, Phil's on the other-resting for more sexual onslaughts-Darren Farrar was a mere twenty-five miles away, stealthily skulking the corridors of The Castaways Motel.
Intent on skullduggery on his own, he was searching for room 345, where certain cached fireworks were waiting to go off. His eyes were furtive, frightened; his heart pounded savagely. For, even though The Castaways was located a safe distance from Framingham, there was always an off-chance that he might run into someone he knew, someone who might blow the whistle on him. Now, abruptly, he froze. Room 345 loomed up, and he knew his moment of truth was at hand.
His arm was seemingly made of lead as he raised it, tapped softly. But there was nothing reluctant about the response his signal evoked inside that draped-shrouded room. Instantly the door was jerked open; instantly a clutching female arm dragged him inside; instantly a hot, writhing wanton flung herself into his arms, her lips voracious, cruel.
"My God, Lauri!" Darren gasped as they broke the kiss, and he fought for equilibrium. "The way you kiss a man!"
Her eyes glinted in the late-afternoon gloom. "That's only an appetizer, honey," she slurred, sliding away to double-lock the door. "I get better ... much better ... as the afternoon goes on." Once more she attacked him, her lips a fiery brand, her serpentine tongue fighting to slither down his throat.
"I didn't believe...." Darren gulped as he once more came up for air, " ... when you made up to me at that party. When you kissed me and pushed your ... body against me the way you did. I thought you were drunk, that you'd forget. But then ... when you called me at the office Monday...."
"An impulsive, aggressive gal, huh?" she smirked, still clinging, her belly tight to his, her one hand low on his back, crowding him still closer. "One of the liberated breed. Viva women's lib. What Daddy gets, Mama can have, too."
"You mean Wynn? He's that way? Is that why you...."
"You mean you haven't noticed? You've never watched the old lecher in action? Christ, he gets the hots for anything in nylons."
Darren knew a sinking feeling. Was that all this meant? "You mean I'm just a means to an end?" he blurted. "A way for you to...."
Lauri Maxwell was a smart female. One never deliberately bruises the precious male ego. "Of course not, Darren," she purred, grinding her belly against his in unmistakable invitation. "Like I said on the phone, I've had my eye on you for a long, long time. But you always seemed so distant and aloof ... sort of stuffy ... that I never had the nerve to make my move." She administered still another salacious cunt-bump. "But now I can see that was a gross misconception."
She whirled away suddenly, leaving Darren with a distinct sense of loss. "I took the liberty of bringing along some good Scotch," she smirked, hefting an unopened fifth of J&B. "Do you indulge? Sort of smooth out the rough edges, you know?" She stood in a provocative pose, and once more Darren felt that hot, throbbing ache in his groin; his cock unlimbered quickly. Here's a gal who knows how to bring a man to a rolling boil, he mused.
Briefly they sat apart from each other, concentrating on the Scotch, waiting for the jangles to die down. Appraising Lauri, Darren wondered why he hadn't been attracted before. She was a lovely creature, dark-haired, with frost streaks through the crown, her face triangular, the eyes coquettishly large, her lips pouty. Though she was slightly on the angular side, her breasts were opulent, high and wickedly pointed in the special brassieres she affected, her hips flaring just so, her elegant rear giving off a hint of controlled voluptuousness.
But as his heart hammered at the prospect of shortly taking this morsel to bed, there were second thoughts. Blame it all on Nadine, he reasoned, the Scotch cutting in quickly, making him feel woozy, adventurous. Blame it on that slut-on-wheels performance she put on four weeks ago, that thing that nearly turned my stomach. And Jesus, only a month? It seems like a year.
That's how long it's been since I've had any. I haven't laid a finger on her since that filthy night. Small wonder I came running the first time Lauri crooked her finger.
Well, it wouldn't become a steady deal, he assured himself. He'd get his ashes hauled this once, and good-bye. And if he and Nadine didn't get their house in order soon, he'd get it when he was on the road. That'd help keep him sane.
But a steady thing with Lauri Maxwell, his boss' wife? No way.
Summarily he broke from his introspections, was surprised to find Lauri advancing on him, a temptress smile on her lips. She fell upon his lap lightly, leaned to kiss him, balancing his glass gracefully, her wicked tongue quickly at play again. "I'm getting there, lover," she slurred. "How about you? Don't make me wait too long." She shifted, slid her hand down to his crotch. "Here, let's see how things are progressing."
Then, with no display of shame whatsoever, she wound brazen fingers around his swollen shaft, applied an assessing pressure that made him moan. "Oh, Darren," she husked delightedly, "you are ready. You do have it for Lauri. Oh, baby, let's get that thing out where we can see it ... where it can do some good."
Again, with no embarrassment at all, Lauri put down her glass, unhesitatingly slid to the floor, where she cowered between his knees. Her fingers fluttered boldly over the elongated bulge in his trousers. "Mmm, lover," she sighed throatily, "it's beautiful. I can hardly wait." And with no more prelude than that, she leaned, burrowed her lips into his crotch. She bared small, white teeth, slid them maddeningly along the entrapped hank. Now she nipped harder, concentrating on the swollen cockhead.
A moment later she unconcernedly reached up, ran his fly. Rummaging around in his pants, she produced his cock, tugging and arranging it so it was free-standing, vibrating and shimmering, redolent, the magenta-toned cockhead mere inches from her face. Even as he fought to assimilate the incredible turnabout, his cock pulsed. A drop of his love oil cascaded down, spotting Lauri's nyloned knee.
"I'm sorry, Lauri," he apologized. "I didn't mean to-"
"So what's to be sorry about? I think it's beautiful. It means you want me as bad as I want you." She studied his strangely angled prick momentarily, a speculative smirk twisting her lips. Now she raised a graceful finger, deliberately swiped the excess fluid from his cock-eye, wiped it on the carpet. Then she arranged herself more comfortably, matter-of-factly began flogging the screaming glans with a devilish, pink tongue. Darren groaned in stunned disbelief, capitulated instantly.
Round and round the darting tongue went, making his cock tingle and throb, drawing gasps from Darren "Oh, Lauri, don't!" he choked. "You don't have to do that. We can just go to bed ... take care of things. That isn't necessary."
"Have to do it?" she mocked. "Christ, honey, where've you been? Did it ever dawn on you that I might want to do this ... to suck your cock? Haven't you ever heard about girls who like to suck cock? Some would rather have it down their throat than up their belly. You mean to tell me that Nadine's never done this for you?"
Remembering their last heathenish bedroom session, remembering how Nadine had actually pleaded to be allowed to suck his cock, he flushed. "N-no, no ... she's never seemed ... interested."
"Oh, Darren! What a prissy-pants bitch she must be. No woman's ever gone down on you? Poor baby." Her fingers clenched his drooling rod painfully. "We'll make up for that, won't we? Right now! No wonder you look so hangdog all the time. You've never lived!" She lapsed into a cooing singsong. "Here, let Lauri make it all better."
As of that moment Darren was a goner; he could no sooner have rejected Lauri than he could have flown. And watching her industriously lick his cockhead, her tongue darting and swirling, soft liquid clicks carrying up, he felt his guts bubble intolerably. Momentarily he thought he'd spurt before anything else got started. He took in her exquisite face, the fine nose, the ripe lips as she now pushed them into a tiny, sucking siphon that went back and forth on his cockhead, just taking an inch into her mouth, then sliding away. Back and forth, her eyes alternately dreamy and closed, her demonic mouth went. He thought he'd die at the sensations, at the sight of the coral knob appearing and disappearing in her mouth.
Now she readjusted, and her smile saucy, hard, she began sliding her wet lips up and down the underside of his cock, from balls to tip; she took playful nips at his scrotum, rippled his muscled rod with her teeth. Round and round his prick her educated mouth went, teasing, tormenting, making him curl up inside, so intense was his need to have his cock encircled in something hot, soft, and wet. Whether it be her cunt or her mouth it didn't matter! Why doesn't she take it? Swallow it all the way to her fucking tonsils?
Finally he could stand no more. The ache was intolerable. "Please, please, darling," he choked, "take it in. Don't torture me any more. Put it in your mouth. Suck it, Lauri! I'm dying, dying...." She giggled thickly. "That's what I like, lover. When a man asks for it. Nice and polite. Certainly, baby. Here, is this what you want?"
Again she readjusted skillfully. Then, her eyes glittering with an evil, victorious fire, she opened her lips, guided his cock into that hot, wet tunnel with impatient fingers. And as her mouth welcomed him, as her tongue flattened and swirled, gave way to his throat-raping meat, Darren sighed gutturally. God, how good! he exulted. And I refused Nadine when she offered to do this for me? This time won't be enough; I'll never get enough of this. His heart lurched, and even as the thought was finished, he knew he was committed. I'll never get enough of Lauri, of her liberal approach to sex!
"Baby, baby," the words tumbled forth heedlessly. "Oh, yes, yes. Suck me. Suck me!"
With a particularly wicked twist of her head, her palate and teeth abrading the sensitive head of his prick, Lauri pulled off. Her smile was obscene, taunting. "Suck you, darling?" she teased. "You can talk more plainly than that. Just what is it you want me to suck?"
"Please, Lauri. Don't start that...."
"Just what is it you'd like me to suck? Say it!"
"Suck my cock, damn you! Suck my prick!"
Her expression was pure mischief. "Of course, darling," she said primly. "I'll be delighted to suck your prick." Without a moment's hesitation, she popped the swollen, glistening member back into her mouth, slurped and smacked noisily, the sight of her cheeks puffing in and out, the lewd sounds further enhancing his raging lust.
Just what's going on here? he puzzled. Remembering the way Nadine had coerced the same vile language from him their last time out, how she'd gloried in it, he was thrown for a loss. It was as if all the females of the world had just learned all the words, and were insane to use them at every turn. His own inner sense of filthiness intensified, and he was struck by a gut-churning desire to degrade and revile Lauri still further. If that's what the corrupt bitches want anyway, he reasoned. To be treated like whores "That's it, Lauri," he gloated, his cock feeling like it would explode any minute now, like it would jet pints of rich, hot sperm down her depraved gullet. "Go get it. Work, you sweet bitch! You talented little cocksucker!"
Lauri jerked at the vile names, then opened her eyes gratefully, smiled up at him. Her mouth went up and down on his saliva-slicked shaft even more demonically now. But there was a cutoff point. And when he began to lurch and grind his buttocks on the chair, when he tried holding her head, the better to fuck her in the mouth, the wily wanton recognized the signals. Breaking away, she said, "No, darling. I don't want it in my mouth. Our next date, maybe. But this first time ... in my belly. In my cunt." She rose, moved toward the bed. "C'mon, let's get our clothes off. The main attraction now."
Darren Farrar was further thrilled by the seductive way Lauri undressed for him. She put on a real show; there was none of that furtive, fey quickness with which Nadine disrobed. Watching her saucily peel away her undies, he was insane to charge her, fling her onto the bed, slam his cock into her, fuck her bloody.
First of all there was the exotic lingerie she'd specially chosen for their first assignation-a royal-blue ensemble-almost regal in the way it enhanced her svelte darkness. Bikini panties which exposed the sexy black garter-belt which cinched smoke-toned nylons to thin, bewitching legs. A unique bra, tailored, the tips conical, extremely pointed-a brassiere that was now teasingly peeled away to reveal smallish breasts, the tips dark brown, engorged, resembling taut berries. And then, as Lauri slowly massaged and rolled those elegant tits, when she lifted them, offered them to his hungry lips, Darren almost howled with lust!
She approached him where he perched on the bed, made a sultry, subservient show of undoing his shirt buttons, unbuckling his belt. "My panties, darling?" she sighed thickly. "Take them off? I'm crazy to feel your hands on my body." Her urgent pleas fueled his need.
The panties were slowly worked down, a chore Lauri exploited perfectly, drawing his face that much closer to her hot, aching breasts. All tart now, she fed first one nipple, then the other to his greedy lips. His tongue swilled and flagellated; his lips sucked and compressed; his cock ached, bucked, and drooled.
Even as he sucked her nipples raw, his hands continued to slide up and down her glossy legs, to compress the pert roundness of her buttocks. They flirted with the humid declivity of her ass, the heat emanating from her agitated pussy an almost palpable thing.
"God, dear God," she hissed, switching her body convulsively, "the things you're doing to me, Darren. I'm on fire. Oh, darling, if I don't have you soon...."
Shortly they were both naked, with Lauri lolling seductively on the bed, watching Darren as he struggled with his socks. "Honey," she breathed, "you still have a beautiful body. So many men your age let themselves turn to blubber. And that prick of yours ... that beautiful prick. It'll never go to fat. Not if I have anything to say about it. Hurry, damn you!"
A sadistic hand twisted Darren's guts. This exquisite, expensive female-his boss' wife-that hot to have him! He couldn't remember when he'd ever felt so horny.
But if he thought he'd hit the bed, just pile on, drive his cunt-stabber into Lauri, he was mistaken. For as he gathered her into his arms, kissed her fiercely, simultaneously attempted to crawl over her body, she twisted away playfully.
"No, baby," she slurred, "not just like that. Where's your finesse? Haven't you got a little something for Lauri? A little extra effort ... to show her how much you love her?"
Darren's stomach lurched sickeningly. "Lauri ... you don't mean...."
Her grin was impish. "Why not, darling? Are you privileged or something? Women like to be eaten, too. Please, Darren? Just touch me up around the edges? I was so good to you, after all. Would it wound that ego of yours that much? Go ahead, I'm clean; I showered only an hour ago. Don't tell me you've never ... for Nadine?"
His silence was answer enough.
Lauri literally glowed, her eyes dark pools of taunting evil. "Oh, hey, this is an all-new ball game! Christ, I've got a virtual virgin on my hands. Lover, the things I'm gonna teach you!" She pressured his head, drew it down on her quaking belly. "Kiss, baby. Kiss and lick me there. Just go slow at first, let yourself get used to it."
His stomach tumbling, his lust for her a domineering thing, Darren had no choice but to oblige Lauri. If she were to deny him now, he'd die, he'd explode from the insufferable load bubbling in his balls. So he dropped his head clumsily, began slithering his lips along her silky, svelte tummy.
"That's it, Darren," she creaked, her hips beginning to writhe sensuously. "Easy does it. And when you're ready for the real thing...." She gasped, lurched wildly. "Yes, baby, yes! Go, go! Eat me! Eat my boiling pussy! My tongue-crazy cunt!"
The words, the brazen way she spread her legs, even went so far as to draw apart her labia for his marauding tongue, incited him further, drove him to a mindless frenzy. And whether or not he'd ever sucked a woman's crack before, whether he'd like it once he did, none of it mattered. He'd suck this hot-tailed little bitch off or die in the attempt! With a swift move, he dropped his mouth on her mons, chewed and mauled it gently. The woman smell rose in his nostrils-rich, slightly rank-it invaded his brain, where it corroded all inhibitions, all revulsions.
Cunt! He was crazy to eat cunt!
And then, when Lauri's moans grew even more pagan, when her legs knotted, when her hips ground and bucked beneath him, ultimate testament to the delight he was giving her, he was further motivated. Christ, what have I been missing? If a guy can drive a dame out of her skull with just his tongue-primal filthiness took him, and a sudden lust to crawl was suddenly born within him. Shit, man, if I don't get my tongue up her gash this very minute!
"See, baby?" Lauri gloated as he dropped his mouth into her screaming crotch, as he swabbed the slimy vestibule of her vulva, as his tongue stingingly, soothingly steamed into the depths of her cunt itself. "Didn't I tell you, you'd like it? Oooh, you sweet fucker! The way you're sucking me! Oh, yes, yes! Drive it in there! Wiggle it! Lick me out! I'm dying!"
The oily texture of her cunt, the heat and subtle odor of it, the slightly saline taste of her juices sickened Darren at first. But quickly the mind-bending depravity of his surrender was back; repugnance faded once and for all. He attacked Lauri's delicious cuntal folds like a maddened boar rooting in especially tasty slops.
Lauri endured his slurping, gasping adoration as long as she could. But then her own need to be stuffed with plundering prick became too great. There was time, she decided. All afternoon and evening if need be. She'd teach the clumsy clod all the fine points later.
"Enough, Darren," she choked, pulling his face up from her livery, steaming folds. "If I don't get you ... your cock ... into me there pretty soon...." She drew up his head, stared down lovingly at him, the wet, shimmering globules of her cunt juice on his nose enchanting her. "But first, just a little something ... to put me on the very brink...." With that she drew back her cuntlips, formed a charming V with her fingers to draw her labia away from her throbbing clit. "You see it, baby?" she rasped. "My clitoris? Right there, like a little red button? Kiss it, lick it. Just a little. Until I can't stand it, and I'm on the verge of coming." She lurched savagely as he obeyed, began lashing her clit with a greedy tongue.
"Easy, Darren, easy! Around the edges now, just barely graze the tip. Yes, oh, yes! Like that. Ooooh, God, that's heavenly, heavenly!"
Then she could endure no more of Darren's dedicated cunnilingus. Again she drew his head up from her gushing cunt, drew him upward over her body with one, smooth movement. And when his cock-wet and dripping-slid across her inner thighs, her hands were there again, ready and waiting, holding the lips of her twat wide, waiting to pilot that blessed torpedo home-into her sucking, gaping cunt. Then, as it nosed her cuntlips, as it eased into her canal with exquisitely oily passage, she groaned. "Oh, yes, angel! In, oh, in! It's beautiful ... it's so ... huge! So fucking long! Oh, God, bury it! Bury it in my hot, dirty cunt!"
With a gurgling cry, Darren did as he was told. He felt like his skull would explode from the fantastic sensations bloating it. It was pain, sharp and shattering, and very quickly he felt his balls constrict, almost as if someone were holding a blow torch to them. His asshole puckered, cringed before the ferocity of his passion.
"Oooh, darling!" she squealed distantly, her eyes closed, her face contorted one moment, blissful the next. "I haven't had such a delicious prick in me in ages. Yes, oh, yes! Like that! Fuck me! Fuck me deep! Fuck me hard! Fuck me fast! Any way you like ... only...." Another wanton squeal erupted from her. "Never stop! Never stop fucking meee!"
A volcano was on the verge of erupting inside Darren's guts; he knew he'd explode very soon. But he fought to hold back just a little longer, the better to savor the newness of the sensations he felt just then.
And now, entirely of his own volition, the outburst seemingly coming from some secret well inside him, he began to snarl and groan deep in his throat. "You cunt!" he spat. "You gorgeous little cunt. You feel so good, so fucking good. Hot and slippery and tight...."
"Yes, darling," she hissed, encouraged, proud of her star pupil. "Go ahead. Talk some more. Let it all come out. I love it when a man talks dirty while he's fucking me!"
Each new word, each new digging into the sewer of his brain seemingly heightened his lust, and Darren went completely berserk. "Hot cunt," he grated, "hot, prick-wringing cunt! Cunt I love to shove my prick into. Cunt I love to suck. Dirty, fucky cunt!" He slammed his dong into her almost vengefully now, actually shoving her higher on the bed with his thrusts.
Then Lauri began to orgasm, one rocket blast after the other. "I'm coming, darling," she proclaimed. "Coming! Oh, you fuck, you beautiful fuck!"
Then, as he felt his own climax, as he felt his prick split from base to tip, as he felt his sperm shoot deep into her milking cunt, as he felt her cuntal drain fill with his thick, hot pudding, he was stunned. It was like his head was exploding, like he'd just been reborn. Why hadn't someone told him that fucking could be like this? Then and there Darren Farrar knew one thing: His life would never be the same again from this day forth.
CHAPTER NINE
Why Wynn Maxwell had insisted on bringing Nadine home this afternoon instead of taking her to their downtown love-nest, even he didn't know. If he'd thought deeply enough about it, he might have conceded it was a power play-this bitch would do exactly as he said, or else! On the other hand there was the risk and sense of danger connected with fucking his reluctant mistress on his home grounds, in the very rooms where he'd fucked his wife. Beyond that there was an ego thing: He wanted to impress Nadine with the opulent surroundings that were his natural habitat.
Whatever his reasons, the fact was that Nadine Farrar was in the Maxwell living room this afternoon, her car hidden in the garage. Now, the garage door closed, the doors locked, there was security of sorts; there was time for a leisurely session. Lauri was at one of her literary lectures today; the children-Jasmin and Priscilla-were with their young people's church group on an all-day field trip.
The coast was clear. He'd put Nadine through sexual hoops she'd never dreamed existed.
And already-Nadine stripped down to her sexy, black brassiere and panties, kneeling before Wynn where he sat on the davenport, listlessly sucking his prick-she could sense the difference in the air today. It was as if she'd suddenly been relegated to slave status. Stocking-less, still wearing her pretty white pumps, her lovely blonde head pumping up and down on his pecker, she felt her resentment grow. And now, when Wynn deliberately jammed her face into his crotch with his hand, the act making his cockhead spear the depths of her throat, gagging her, making her cough "What is it, Wynn?" she asked, dragging her mouth away from his choking stalk. "First you literally threaten me, demand that I come to you. And now you're being as nasty as you can. Isn't it bad enough that you blackmail me like this? Must you add insult to injury?"
"Look who's making noise," he replied snidely. "It wasn't me who started with this cold shoulder stuff. We had a groovy thing going, baby. And all of a sudden ... zilch! If I didn't know better I'd swear you've gone public; you've got another guy on the string. Or guys."
Nadine's heart kicked savagely. It was almost as if Wynn knew. But how? She and Steve and Phil had been so careful. No, Wynn was just making noises. She writhed inwardly, comparing the love she'd shared with her darling boys only two days ago to this ugly, coerced love she must now endure with Wynn. She took a deep breath, resolved to do her best to please Wynn, get him off the scent. Anything! Just to get this thing over with, to be away from this arrogant bully.
"There's no one else, Wynn," she lied. "I'm not that kind of a woman, you know that. After all, this is my first affair. I've never cheated with anyone ... not so much as flirted with another man ... before this. I was just trying to get my bearings, trying to decide whether I wanted to go on with this ... deception. I was dying by inches, Wynn. All that guilt...."
"Tough, baby. All wasted energy. You had no choice right from the start. Like I explained to you on the phone this morning."
She winced, cowered inside. Yes, he'd explained all right; he'd made her position entirely clear. And she'd wanted to scream, to sob in frustration. She didn't want-or need-Wynn any more. All she wanted now was her lovely sons. All she wanted was Darren-if and when he ever saw the light, became the real man she needed.
The terms were clear-cut. Wynn Maxwell would stop at nothing to have her in his hands again. If he had to call in Darren, expose their whole sick relationship, he would. And once he'd told him, he'd lay his walking papers on him. The uses and abuses of power. Everything would be ruined for the Farrars. Marriage, career, all future happiness and security.
His mocking chuckle rang in Nadine's brain anew. "So you see, darling, it's all on your shoulders. You can be Joan of Arc ... save the day. Just play ball with old Wynn here, and everything's fine. Darren gets a raise, some stock options, your happy home's safe. And little Nadine gets fucked black and blue. Which isn't all that bad. I remember a time when you turned yourself inside out to have my rod stuck into you."
Nadine swayed with shame where she knelt before Wynn, her hands cupping his balls, her thumbs positioning his drooly prick. Dear God, what have I got myself into now?
"We play the game my way," he sneered. "And since you made it ugly for me...." He wriggled his hips salaciously at her, making his cock sway back and forth. "I'm beginning to drip, sweet-lips. Hop to! You wouldn't want to stain the nice davenport, would you?" He made a demeaning show of forcing her head down onto his cock. He wheezed and gurgled when her lips compressed his glans, when her tongue began its slow, deranging glide across the cleft of his cock-eye. "God, oh, God...." he gloated. "The talented mouth on that. The way you suck cock, Nadine. If Darren could see you now...."
On and on the sick, extorted afternoon went. Until, not too much later, Nadine was naked, floating around the living room like a lovely, golden wraith, her body a vision of sensuality. Her breasts bobbed enticingly as she replenished their drinks, the nipples standing up, hard and knurled, her mound catching errant rays of sunlight from the loosely draped picture window. The sight thrilled Wynn, and wanting still more, he thought it safe to open the drapes another crack, the better to let the sun play upon her exquisite body. There was only the combination garage-horse shed to the west; unless someone was up in the loft nobody could see what was going on in the house. And since the kids and Lauri were gone, wouldn't be back until after six "Oh, baby, that body of yours," he gloated. "The way the sun sets your cunt on fire. You want it baby, whether you'll admit it or not. I can see your pussylips beginning to drool for cock already. Yeah, doll. Stand like that. Pull your cunt open, show it to Daddy. Oooh, you bitch! You sweet, fucky bitch!"
It was the truth. Fight her mounting sensuality as she might, Nadine couldn't control herself. Their nakedness, her slaving suckings of Wynn's bloated prick, his filthy language-all worked to undermine her. Revolted and demeaned though she was by her new status, she still couldn't dispel her boiling lusts. Her breasts were hot and aching. Her cunt was a weeping, contracting, wringing mess. More than ever, she realized just how much the human female is a slave to her base instincts. Dear Lord, she railed inwardly, if I don't get fucked soon Thus, cutting short the sluttish tease act with her drooling cunt, she flung herself at Wynn where he sprawled on the couch, fell to her knees before him again, shamelessly mounted and tongued his cock and balls. "Oh, God, yes!" she gasped, delirious with desire. "You are right, darling. You're always right. You know what a woman needs ... how to turn a woman on. Please, before I go crazy! Let's go upstairs. Take me to bed, lover! I need you so terribly!"
Maxwell smiled smugly, watched her work his foreskin back and forth raptly, felt a hot clutch in his gut as he saw her tilt her head charmingly, actually milk fuck oil from his raging cock, the silvery globules drifting down to her waiting mouth. And when she sighed and sipped down his viscous overflow, licked her lips salaciously, when she immediately pumped his foreskin anew, eager for more, he wanted to howl. The bitch! The dirty little bitch!
He grabbed her head, roughly forced his cock into her mouth-deep, still deeper-groaned like a pig at the sweet, hot ease of her velvety lips, tongue, and throat. Momentarily his lust subsided as he remembered further embellishments, new refinements of their love that must be developed before the afternoon was out.
"No, Nadine," he slurred lazily, "we won't go anywhere. What's the matter with right here? Everything's real comfy ... I think this'll do just fine."
Now Nadine looked up, stared darkly at him. "All right Wynn," she agreed, breaking contact with a noisy slurp. "Anything you say. I just thought we'd be more comfortable, safer in another part of the house. But if you want me ... here, that's okay. Only soon! Hurry! If you knew how I ache for you...."
His expression grew even more sly. "You'll get it, darling. Only first...."
"What?"
"Up here. Straddle me that way I like so well. Pussy sandwich. I'll give you a little warm-up, too."
"No, Wynn. That isn't necessary. I'm ready now ... I don't need any further stimulation. I'll die!" He reached up languidly, pinched her left nipple hard, made her cry out. "Who's boss here, angel-eyes? Do as you're told. If Daddy wants to suck cunt, Daddy sucks cunt! Now move it!"
Her eyes squinched shut, helpless whimpers breaking from her, Nadine rose, squirmed over his reclining form, worked her steaming gash up to his mouth. At first she knew shame at the fact that she must smell, that she must be a gooey mess down there. But as Wynn eagerly drove his face into the malodorous mess, gluttonously, licked and sucked and chewed her cuntal folds, the repugnance faded. She was glad she was so wet there; it added more spice to their depraved anything-goes mood. She began to grunt and yip when his expert lips tightened on the swollen boil of her clit, pulled and compressed the miniature penis like a suckling child.
Even when his fingers came up, began delving into her cunt, began transferring her sticky, thick oils to her wide-stretched anal port, she didn't demur. A red haze swirled behind her eyelids. It was all part of it. If he wants to put his finger up my ass, wiggle it around in there, okay. The dirtier the better!
Very quickly he had her anal port slippery and loose; there was no pain at all now. And then, when Wynn slowly inserted a second finger, stretched the anal ring still more, she was further aroused. Oh, Christ, he really is worked up today, isn't he? But the combination of sucking and finger-fucking quickly put her to the wall. "Oh, Wynn, Wynn!" she creaked, writhing her hair-fringed hole against his avenging tongue. "I can't help it! I'm coming! Oh, God! Am I coming!" And then, just as a womb-tearing orgasm hit her, Wynn corkscrewed still a third finger into her ass. The sensation, the concept was so filthily vile, so strong! Even then Nadine didn't see the handwriting on the wall. She blithely came and came; she popped like a string of firecrackers.
It was only later, as she fell beside Wynn on the davenport, begged him to take his hurting fingers out of her rectal cavity, that she got the message. "Honey," he gloated, "that ain't all that's going into your ass this afternoon. Wait'll I shove my fat dong in there."
She jerked, sucked in a hissing breath. Even so she felt her cunt and asshole constrict involuntarily, the sensation incredibly strong, like someone was wringing her out there. "Wynn, darling!" she gasped. "You wouldn't! That would kill me! I'd never forgive you!"
He chuckled. "I think you would. Once you got into it. You broads are all the same. Never know what's good for you until you've had it."
Her head swam, her eyes blurred. "But I thought ... That's only in those books. Men and women ... they don't ever really do those things."
"Don't they?" he sneered. "We'll see." Abruptly he was attempting to turn her on the davenport. "Over we go, baby. It's that time. Up the old dirt road."
The rest of it was a sickening nightmare. Plead and struggle with her suddenly-gone-berserk lover as she might, it did no good. He was too determined, to strong for her. And still, even as she fought him, twisted her creamy ass to avoid his raping thrusts at her anus, she was curious, sexually titillated.
But after a time he became impatient. "Lay still, damn you. Let me get this thing into you. You're gonna get it up the ass whether you want it or not, so be a brave little girl. Here ... put this pillow under your belly."
Suddenly, breathless, so weak, Nadine could fight no longer. She clenched her eyes, gritted her teeth, resolved to let him do it to her, let him have his way.
But then, as she surrendered, let him arrange her body on the cushions, let him finger and spread the velvety, hair-circled purse of her anus, she was amazed at his gentleness, at his solicitude. She squirmed reflexively, her cunt hot against the cushion as his fingers grazed her nether mouth, brought fresh goo from his prick, from her weeping cunt, as his fingers went in and out of her, becoming more slick, more painless by the minute. Gradually she relaxed, and now two fingers, then three, slithered in and out of her hurting hole, continued to spread the sphincter. God, God, she wailed, her cunt grinding into the hard upholstery, but doesn't it feel dirty, so deliciously filthy! Yes, my love, yes! Now! I'm ready now. Shove it into me! Shove your prick up my ass! Deep as it will go! Darling, I can't wait!
But then, a few moments later, as he began working the blunt, slimy crown of his cock against her crinkled anal lips, as he made initial lunges at the tight mouth, all her frenzies went out the window. The pain! He'll rip me, tear me! There'll be blood all over everything if he shoves that huge thing into my rear! Please, Wynn, please! Oh, no, Wynn!
But her silent pleas for mercy came all too late. Wynn's lust-flamed cockhead throbbed, spat forth new lubrication flow, slithered and pushed, fought for traction against the silky orifice. The glans slid upward, then sideways, until Wynn took it in his hand, held it to the crevice it must now rape. Nadine's thrashings, her muffled cries served only to incite Wynn to even greater bestiality. In, you bastard! he exhorted. His guts boiled. His balls felt like they were going to explode. His own ass constricted, burned. A bloody film formed behind his eyes, and he heard himself panting and gurgling deep in his throat.
Again and again he shoved, his cock slipping repeatedly, the head flattening, the shaft bending. Nadine continued to squeal and squirm-continual fuel to his savage sadism.
Then the cringing sphincter gave way, and inch by slow inch, his murderous cannon was easing into her screaming anal bore. He felt his cockhead compress as it squeezed through the taut muscle. He felt it expand on the other side of Nadine's knothole, the ring exerting constant pressure, compacting his cock from tip to base. He felt the slimy, corrugated folds of her rectal cavity, unyielding, suffocating, giving ground grudgingly, every millimeter of depth bought at painful price for them both.
Wynn only shoved his prick into Nadine a few inches. Then, her cries heart-rending, hoarse barking, he drew out a little, let her rest before attacking anew. He stared down at her writhing buttocks, noted the way the pink, wet flesh of her inner anus clung to his cock shaft, came out as he withdrew, disappeared when he slowly shoved himself back into the reluctant sleeve. Deliberately he sawed in and out of her in short spurts, delighting in the sight of her clinging, sucking inner membranes where they refused to release his marauding meat. He gasped, groaned. Jesus Christ! And I thought Lauri had a tiny asshole! I'll never get out of Nadine's!
While, simultaneously, Nadine was suffering the agonies of the damned. Her head felt bloated, like it would explode at any moment. And her ass! Her poor, defiled ass! "God, dear God," she pleaded, her anus feeling like it was on fire, scraped raw, stretched a dozen times its normal size. "Take it out, please take it out! Please, Wynn! It's too big, much too big. I'll suck ... fuck you. Shoot in my cunt, but please ... not in there! You're killing me! I'll die, I swear I will. It hurts, hurts so terribly!"
"It'll only hurt a little while," he encouraged. Just hang in there, doll. In just a bit you'll be all loose and juicy. You won't be able to get enough of it. Owwww, Nadine! If you just knew how good that feels. I love you! I love fucking you in the ass!"
Nadine sank into a brutalized trance, felt the hot cob slam in and out of her, deeper, ever deeper, until it seemed shortly it would disarrange her guts.
Next she awoke to find herself actually moving backward in cadence to her lover's sodomizing thrusts. She reveled in this lewd ravishment of her backside, savoring her torment-a slave submitting to her cruel master. The pain faded still more, and Nadine flung her head from side to side, her hair thrashing, her lips pulled back over her teeth in masochistic, pagan joy. Then she was seized by the most incredible reverie of all: What, she thought, totally unhinged now, would it be like if Steve or Phil were doing this? Fucking me in the ass? Wouldn't I love it? Wouldn't it be heavenly? I'll teach them! I must! Everything! I'll share everything with my darling sweethearts!
Maxwell's hoarse, choking cries cut through her sick projections. "Yes, baby, like that! Go, you little fucker! Shove back! Fuck back! Oh, shit, shit ... I'm close, too damned close. I'm coming, coming...."
At that last possible moment he burrowed his hand beneath Nadine's body, found her bloated clit. He had but to compress it with a sliding, rolling finger and she found herself tumbling into the yawning abyss of multiple orgasms. And in that moment of absolute frenzy, as she felt the hard, hot throb of his cock-magnified so exquisitely on the strangling sounding board of her anus-as she felt his searing, thick jism coat her bowels, set fire to her very soul, she knew that ultimate ecstasy of submission, an almost holy welcoming of humiliation. She knew that today's pain wouldn't be enough. She must have this degradation again and again! Her face contorted, she wantonly exhorted her brutalizing master. "Fuck me, darling! Yes harder, deeper! You were right! It is good! I do like it. Fuck, damn you! Fuck my ass! Fuck my dirty ass!"
For a long time after Wynn had shot his scalding load into her rectal channel, they, lay in a trembling heap, Wynn atop Nadine, his shrinking worm still imbedded in her asshole. They fought for breath, fought to make their dazzled, whirling brains come to rest.
Even when Wynn pulled out of her, wiped himself on a handkerchief, when he turned her, kissed her full on the lips, she couldn't break the afternoon's evil spell.
"God, darling," she choked, "that only makes me want more. In my cunt now? Something for me? The real thing? You, you talented-pricked bastard! Your prick in my cunt. Now, damn you! I'll go insane if I don't have something!"
She jerked, shot her eyes open when she heard Wynn's snorting laughter, his voice sounding like he was talking to someone else in the room. "Well, well," he chuckled, "look who's here. Don't tell me you've been standing there all the time ... watching the whole damned show?"
Her head whirled, and she stared blindly into the dark recesses of the room to where Wynn was staring. Then she saw the dog-Borgia-his tongue lolling, a glittering inquisitiveness in his eyes. "Good God!" she gasped. "Don't scare me like that, Wynn! I thought Lauri, or one of the girls...."
"Hell, I didn't even know Borgia was in the house. The damned mutt must have just wandered in."
"Well, just have him wander out. I don't like an audience, not even a doggy one." She paused. "He is a beautiful animal, isn't he?"
Almost as if understanding the compliment, the huge police dog loped to where Nadine sprawled, began sniffing and licking her naked feet. Then, abruptly, a soft rumbling in his throat, he lifted his head, pushed it directly between Nadine's widespread legs, his cold nose swiftly invading her wet cuntal folds. Nadine shrieked, jerked away, attempted to clamp her legs together. But the growl in Borgia's throat became even more menacing, and she froze with terror. "Wynn?" she squeaked. "Get him away from me? He'll bite me. Wynn? Please?"
Maxwell chuckled softly, loosed a low, sly whistle. "No, baby, Borgia ain't gonna bite you. Eat you maybe. But bite? No way. He liked that stuff too much. He knows just what he's doing." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Wow, so that's the way it's been going around here lately. So that's what Lauri's been up to. No wonder I've been on such short rations. Now I know why she's been letting Borgia sleep in her bedroom all the time." His expression became even more amazed. "Wow! Lauri and that damned dog...."
"Wynn," she snapped, "you can't mean that." Frozen in place, submitting to Borgia's hot, rough lickings in her labial folds, getting a warning growl every time she attempted to pull away, Nadine was suffering some very mixed emotions indeed. She was revulsed one moment, intrigued and inflamed the next. "You can't be serious."
"Can't I?" He pointed at Borgia, where his furry legs pinned Nadine's creamy white thighs in place, where he was already hunched up in the back, his prick exposed, the first humping motions already commenced. "Does that look like the dog doesn't know what he's doing?"
"Please, please, Wynn," Nadine quailed. "I'm afraid of him. Get him off me, will you?"
Wynn's expression became very venal all at once. "What's the hurry, baby? He ain't hurting you." He snickered drily. "Let him have a little something, too. Relax, enjoy yourself. That really turns the old man on." His hand dropped, clutched his cock. "What a picture! You with your legs up, and old Borgia sucking you off for all he's worth. Just looking at you two's giving me a new hard-on. Be a sport, darling. Christ, talk about whacko afternoons."
Nadine didn't know what to think, where to turn. If Wynn wasn't going to help her, if the damnable dog growled, bared his teeth every time she attempted shoving his snout from her crotch-what recourse did she have? But if Wynn thought she was going to let that filthy animal fuck her The combination of events, her slave-like submission to Wynn, the coerced fellatio, the sodomy, and now this-all served to undermine judgment. What's happening to me? That tongue, so long, so grainy. Deep inside her, deeper than any male tongue had ever been, swirling and digging. Now outside, slithering around her vulva, around her labia, dipping into her tainted asshole even. Suddenly she was aflame with lust all over again. Every time his tongue touched her asshole it felt like a powder train of disgustingly filthy sensation was ignited inside her body, like a cherry bomb was exploding in the fevered blister of her clitoris. Delirious, delivered to primal, sluttish frenzy, she squirmed and panted thickly, wild gibberish dripping from her lips. And now, unable to stand it a second more, she deliberately reached down, drew back on her cuntlips, totally exposed her slimy, red clit; she adjusted her hips, pushed it at Borgia's scourging, maddening tongue.
While, off to one side, his cock reborn, stone hard and dripping again, Wynn Maxwell watched the degenerate scene as long as he could. But then, fuck-crazed himself, he lost control. With an angry command he dragged the growling animal off Nadine. And her body half on, half off the davenport, Wynn kneeling between her thighs, he slammed his bolt home with one vicious, snarling stroke, hit bottom, made Nadine moan delightedly.
"Yes, yes, darling," she chanted. "Your prick, your beautiful prick! Drive it home! Fuck me! I've been waiting to be fucked all afternoon. Darling, darling, it's heavenly. Fuck it! Fuck meee!"
So oblivious of the world was Nadine, so vengeful in his lust was Wynn, that they never saw Borgia; they never sensed his extreme frustration. One minute he was pacing about the humping, gasping couple, his tongue slathering, his throat alive with growling whimpers, sniffing at their feet, their loins, at the very junction of their sex organs. But then, as his nose caught whiff of Wynn's asshole, the underlying redolence of Nadine's spicy juices enhancing its allure, he went berserk.
Wynn Maxwell never knew what hit him. One minute it was just he and Nadine; the next it was a trio event, with Borgia licking his ass, a thing he laughingly permitted. Kicks-additional kicks! But then, all at once, Borgia was on his hind legs, his hairy paws clamped around Wynn's chest, his tough claws threatening to rip his flesh. Wynn cursed, screamed, tried to break free. But Nadine, on the brink of her orgasm, dug her nails into his back, hung on for dear life. And with two assailants pinning him, Wynn never had a chance.
Wynn screamed louder now, and Nadine, emerging from her climax, dazedly called, "Darling, what...."
"This damned dog!" he bellowed. "He's fucking me in the ass!"
While out in the garage, up in the loft, two dazed-eyed girls-Priscilla and Jasmin Maxwell-stared incredulously at the filthy debacle transpiring in their living room. The two girls, sixteen and fourteen respectively, had been hidden in their lair for a long time-most of the afternoon to be exact. As was attested by the fact that their skirts were disarranged about their waists, that their panties lay in a heap at their feet, by the fact that they'd been masturbating almost nonstop during the latter part of their father's incredible indiscretions with Mrs. Farrar.
They weren't supposed to be home, granted. But when the church bus had broken down halfway between Napierville and Framingham, when they'd been returned to the church by private car, there had been no alternative. Then, when they'd come home through the back lots, had found the Farrar Mustang hidden in their garage, the precocious little brats had suddenly turned very stealthy-they'd become the worst kind of snoops. A short-term vigil at the living room window had borne out their suspicions. But where to go before Daddy or that filthy Mrs. Farrar caught sight of them? The loft! They could see everything from there-and without threat of being caught at their voyeur tricks.
Mesmerized by the fellatio which Nadine had so proficiently performed, by their Daddy's cunt-sucking follow-up, by the ensuing sodomy, they'd been unable to stop watching. The more they'd looked, the more sexually aroused they'd become. The lovely, black-haired pixies-their mother's daughters if anything-were well experienced when it came to putting out that sort of fire. So they shamelessly masturbated as they watched, making themselves come again and again. But as the marathon sex event had gone on and on, it hadn't been enough to merely masturbate. Mutual participation had become the name of the game.
They were just beginning to frig one another, when Borgia had appeared upon the scene. They'd come twice more then. But when Borgia had jumped Daddy, had refused to release him, terror had invaded. Help, they must get help! But where to turn? The police? The neighbors? No, that would never do. Mr. Farrar, then. But certainly he was still at work. Steve and Phil Farrar then? They'd be home from the pool by now. Were there any other alternatives? Instantly they were up, jiggling and dancing as they fought to put their panties back on.
A moment later they emerged from the garage, they crept forth and set out across the back lots.
Inside the house Wynn ruthlessly fucked Nadine's cunt to a fine froth as Borgia whimpering clung to his master, rode out the incredible storm as best he could. And whether or not any of them had the faintest premonition-Doomsday loomed!
CHAPTER TEN
Ten minutes later, a pair of gaping, white-faced boys in tow, the Maxwell sisters could be seen infiltrating the overgrown back lot, making for the Maxwell garage and horse shed as fast as their nubile little legs could carry them.
"You two bitches have gotta be lying," a grief-stricken Phil Farrar was saying. "Your dad and my mom? In your house ... making ... love? And that thing with your dog. I just don't believe it." Both boys were deep in panic, rocked to their very souls by the accusations, each hoping against hope that their mother hadn't done this gross thing, betrayed them-and their father in the bargain.
Priscilla Maxwell, the older of the sisters, regarded the boys strangely. There was something funny about Steve and Phil, she concluded. They just weren't acting right. You'd think they had a thing for their mother themselves, judging from the way they'd seemed to fall apart when she and Jasmin had brought the ugly news.
"Lying, huh?" she puffed as they clambered up the stairs, groped their way through the gloom toward the window at the end of the hay-filled loft. "Well, look down there, wise guy. Does that look like I'm lying?"
Phil and Steve fell to their knees at the window, stared down into the house. Instantly their hearts dropped; their faces went gray; it was all Phil could do to keep from sobbing aloud.
But it wasn't as bad as they'd expected. For Borgia had finally got loose, and his animal drive sated, he'd sheepishly made himself scarce. Only Nadine and Wynn remained in the living room, sprawled in heathen tangle on the davenport, with Nadine swinishly thrashing her hips, twining her legs around Wynn's back, unmistakably getting the fucking of her life!
Even so, it crushed the two brothers, filled them with vindictive wrath. Their mother, whom they both had trusted and loved. The same mother who'd pledged undying fidelity to them-and to their father. Behaving like this-like a slut.
Steve dropped his face into his hands. "God," he groaned, "oh, God! I can't believe it."
"What is it with you drips?" Priscilla challenged. "You act like it's just you who's hurt. What about us? That's our dad down there. Behaving like a filthy animal. How do you think we feel?"
"Yeah," Phil muttered, compassion invading, overcoming his sense of shock, "I guess you're right. It's a kick in the head all the way around."
"Well, what are we going to do? Just sit here and watch them play piggy all afternoon?" It was Jasmin, the youngest, a round-faced child, the most innocent of the quartet who spoke now. "I think we should tell somebody."
"You told somebody," Steve snapped angrily. "And so what? You want us to tell our dad? You gonna tell your mom? Is that gonna help anything?
They'll kill each other. Is that what you want? To be an orphan or something?"
"He's right, Jasmin," Priscilla intervened. "There isn't anything we can do. Except wish that we hadn't seen this."
"And, God," Jasmin wailed in her squeaky, baby voice, "to think Mom trusts Dad, that she doesn't know."
"Same with our dad," Phil added, guilt cutting him at the thought of a little something else his dad didn't know. "Jeez, what a mess."
But by now Priscilla was back at the window, kneeling, her hands buried in her crotch, holding herself as if in actual agony. "Oh, wow, look," she gasped. "They're no sooner done than he's at her again, eating her out. Ugh! How can a man do that? I'd be sick...."
Phil and Steve exchanged knowing, exasperated looks. "Kids," Phil snorted.
"A kid, huh?" Priscilla shot, her eyes ablaze. "I'll bet we know more about sex than either of you two queers. Especially after today. You didn't see what we saw. Like your pig of a mother letting our dad put his thing up her ass."
Steve went livid with rage. "You lie, you slut! He didn't! Mom would never let a man-"
"Wouldn't she?" Jasmin countered. "I saw it, too. She screamed and fought at first. But then, at the end, she was crazy about it. She couldn't get enough of it."
Phil charged Priscilla. He grabbed her by the arms, began shaking her. "Take that all back! You made that stuff up! You're a liar, a liar!"
Priscilla fixed them with a small, mocking smile. "Is that all you're good at, you queer?
Manhandling girls? I'll bet you don't know anything about sex. Except with boys. How come I never see you with any girls?"
Phil's face formed into a vengeful mask. "Oh, you little bitch! You're asking for it!"
Priscilla switched her hips, even went so far as to raise her skirt in front, briefly expose the desire-drenched crotch of her panties. A very savvy girl for sixteen, she deliberately tempted fate. Her smile was taunting. "Maybe I am. God knows I've got good reason after watching those two perverts." Her eyes became sultry, burning coals. "Are you man enough to do anything about it?"
"Okay, you cock-teaser," Phil snarled. "I know your game from school. We've gone around this bush before. Only this time you put out ... you don't get away on me." He turned to Steve. "You take care of Jasmin. Keep her quiet. Since she's too little to get into the program...."
Jasmin's glance was every bit as sultry and seductive as her sister's. "Says who? Anything you've got, Steve, I can handle." And then, in an absolutely bawdy way, she reached out, grabbed Steve between the legs. "Oh, hey, Sis," she giggled, "he has got one after all! How about yours?" Priscilla chuckled, dropped her hand, wrapped her baby fingers around Phil's engorged cock. "Mine, too," she crowed. "But whether or not he knows what to do with it, that's another thing."
"I know where it goes," Phil retorted, the novelty of having another female touch his body inflaming him in an unexpectedly savage way. He'd always thought that just his mother could do this to him, but now, what difference did it make? What did anything matter now? Especially since his mother had just finished betraying him, destroying his private world forever. "Only don't come back yelling rape."
"That'll be the day," Priscilla sneered.
The four-way, juvenile orgy that developed in the loft shortly afterwards was incredible. The girls were, of course, at fever-pitch by then. They'd been at their voyeur stand longer than the boys, the endless self-abuse making them crazy to be fucked for the very first time in their young lives. Crazy to be relieved of their virginity once and for all-to know what it was all about!
While Steve and Phil, both smarting, crushed and disillusioned, were at loose ends, willing to strike out in every possible direction in hope of avenging themselves. Add to that Priscilla's taunt that Phil was queer, and all the elements for sexual mayhem were at hand.
"Okay, wise-ass," Phil challenged Priscilla. "You talk so damned smart. Let's see you perform. That dress. Get it off!"
It was as if the child had been born with an alley-cat streak in her. Her eyes filmed, became smoky; her hips began a slow, sexy undulation all their own. And without a word, not once taking her eyes from Phil's, she slowly unzipped her backless summer frock, let it puddle at her feet. Standing tauntingly before him, her thin, tanned body striking contrast to her white nylon bra and panties, she dared Phil to take the next step. Her breasts were precocious, high, pointed, filling the plain brassiere almost to bursting. Already there was a voluptuous flare at hips and thighs, signal of a cunt long overdue for a lusty pronging. Her waist was taut, curvy, her legs thin, shimmering with muted coppery glow. But most compelling of all-the dark stain in the crotch of her panties, proof positive of her sexual hunger. Christ, Phil thought, frozen in place, his eyes staring hotly, this bitch's been wanting it for a long time!
He stifled a grin as he saw little Jasmin, not to be outdone by her sister, commence unzipping her shorts and halter outfit. Her pudgy, round little body was even more sexually arousing, an aura of childish innocence emanating in hot, alluring waves. She tried to ape her sister's sultry posing, but came off second best.
"Well?" Priscilla mocked, collapsing one knee, one hand rakishly resting on her hips.
"Well what?" he snapped. "Don't just stand there. Get over here and get my things off, too. You wanna see what you're gonna get, don't you?" Again the gauntlet was thrown down; it was either put-up or shut-up. Priscilla swayed slightly, as if she'd just been slapped. But then she straightened her shoulders, assumed a determined expression. A moment later she was before Phil, her face close, her sharp, baby breasts poking into his chest. Her hands dropped to his fly, to the snap of his jeans. "Like this, you mean?"
With a quick motion she undid the snap at the waistband of his jeans. His zipper snarled loudly in the loft's tension-charged atmosphere. Jasmin's sibilant, incredulous gasp carried clearly, as, without a moment's hesitation, the brazen nymphet groped inside his Jockey shorts, shortly produced his swollen, rock-hard prick, shamelessly palmed and squeezed it. She made a wry grimace as some of the clear drool dribbled into her palm. "There," Phil shot, the lust explosion in his balls instantly routing any remaining self-consciousness, "does that look like a queer prick to you? Is that the prick you want shoved into your dumb, baby cunt?"
Priscilla swiftly came unglued. Her eyes glazed; her breath came in shallow, hot pantings, her fingers were seemingly welded to the dark, heavily-veined prod. If she were offered a thousand dollars at that moment she couldn't have let loose of the incredibly hard, menacing organ. "Oh, Lord," she breathed in awed reverence, "I never realized they were that hard ... that big ... that fat. How ... how do you get a thing like that inside a woman ... a girl?"
"We manage okay, thank you," Phil sneered, totally confident all at once, a sadistic arrogance twisting his guts. "That's if you're finished playing, and you want to get down to the real thing." He shook his head impatiently. "You gonna get my clothes off or not? I can't fuck you this way."
Woodenly, her face collapsing, the addled girl quickly began unbuttoning his shirt, sliding down his pants, the sight of his hard, bronzed chest, his long, hairy legs, of the drooling joy-stick protruding from his briefs turning her into a child whore. She squatted before him, tugged off his sneakers, held his jeans so he could pull out of them. It was when she attempted to stand again that she received another electrifying shock, realized that she was playing out of her league, that she'd bitten off quite a bit more than she could chew.
"What ... Phil?" she quaked as he put his palm on the top of her dark head, shoved her back. "Let me up. What do you-"
"My shorts, stupid. What's the matter? You turning modest on me all of a sudden?"
"Well...." she stammered " ... I thought you could at least take care of...."
He twisted his fingers in her hair cruelly. "The shorts, bitch! Where do you think you are, in church?"
A dozen different expressions fled across Priscilla's face-fear, panic, disgust, raw desire among them. But then, as Phil's fingers became more cruel, she reached up, began drawing down his briefs. She knew abrupt revulsion as her efforts caused his prick to vibrate, and a splash of his fuck oil hit her cheek. And yet, filthy as this all was, why did she feel this quick, aching clutch in the depths of her baby pussy?
"There," Phil gloated as he looked down at the abject, lust-stunned girl, "that's much better. Now you get an idea of what it's all about." His voice turned hard. "Were you the snot-nose who called me a queer?"
Priscilla didn't answer, but only flung her head wildly in an attempt to break his hold on her hair.
"Okay, for that you get to suck me off first. You get your first taste of real prick. Open up, you little pig. Suck my cock!"
Her eyes all but bulged from her head. "No, Phil, no! I can't. I'd be sick. Just the rest of it. Put it ... your thing ... your prick ... into me. Into my hole. I don't care how much it hurts, only don't make me...."
He collapsed his knees slightly, dragged her higher. "What's the matter, honey? You were talking so smart a minute ago. Get religion all of a sudden? Just who'n hell do you think you are? If my mom can suck off your dad, then it's the least you can do. Suck me off, too!" He gave her head a savage jerk. "C'mon! Before I lose my temper and really get mean. Suck cock, you bitch!"
Inch by inch the gape-eyed girl saw the huge, slimy, magenta-colored dome approach her face, aim for her gagging mouth. The rank stink, the continual ooze of his fluids turned her stomach. The offensive thing wouldn't fit in her tiny jaws; it would tear her mouth. But the child was helpless to resist; in his vengeful state, Phil had the strength of a full-grown man; he wouldn't be denied this retaliation for the way Priscilla's dad had demolished his dream castle, turned it into a shambles.
Then the slimy snout was at her clenched lips, sliding back and forth on them, the sticky fluid coating her mouth, making her stomach constrict. The blunt billy pressured harder, forced her lips open, slid back and forth on the ridge of her small, white teeth. He worked the velvety cockhead into the comers of her mouth, dug it into her cheeks, made her look like a squirrel with its jaws full of nuts. And then, when Priscilla could fight no more, her mouth slowly opened, permitted the suffocating hank to slide inside, to crowd her tongue and palate, to batter its way to the very depths of her virginal throat. At first she thought she'd throw up, that she'd choke on her own vomit, but then, as the jaw-breaking prod stretched her mouth, as both cock and mouth accommodated each other, her disgust slowly, amazingly vanished. Again she felt that surreal warmth and excitement-a feeling of exaltation and rightness fill her body, make her breasts ache and throb, make her cunt wring itself inwardly, the hot, screaming agony indescribable! And, oh, she must get something in there very soon, something soothing, something filling. Something raping!
Her eyes flitted from the hard, straining belly before her, from the golden hair, from the slick terrain of his prick as her mouth slid back and forth on it, and off to one side, she saw a dazed, frozen-faced Jasmin clumsily opening Steve Farrar's trousers. She saw her drag out his dark, rigid pole. A dreamy, lost smile on her face, she sank to her knees before Steve, began to lovingly, experimentally lick the shimmering juice off his crown. Now, almost as if she were trying to outdo her prissy-pants sister, with childish impatience, Jasmin opened her tiny mouth to its widest. And straining up, adjusting on her knees, she sucked in as much of the delectable pole as she possibly could.
Priscilla looked to Steve, saw his smug, delighted smile. A crazy elation filled her. They were doing it right; they were women, real women, after all!
She closed her eyes, shut out the erotic picture of Jasmin and Steve, began to dreamily strip the beautiful, muscular cock with her lips, tongue, and teeth. She gloried in her degradation now, in the smell of man, in the taste of cock! She sucked and pulled more devotedly, still ingenue enough not to realize just what chance she was taking. It felt good, that fat, bulging head, that long stalk, coursing along her tongue, rippling her palate, dead-ending in her sometimes gulping, coughing throat.
But now abruptly, Phil's motions becoming more cruel, his guttural cursing louder, he pulled away from her. He knew a mind-blitzing sense of omnipotence to look down at the teen-age slut where she groveled-still dressed in bra and panties-her eyes pleading, her mouth fighting to reaffix itself to his slippery dick. Honey! he gloated. Are you gonna get fucked!
Reaching behind him, he grabbed a horse blanket from the loft railing. Flinging it onto the straw, he began pushing Priscilla down onto it. There was a brief renewal of terror, and momentarily the virgin entertained second thoughts. Playing for time, she called, "Please, Phil, not just like that? Something for me? Kiss me, lick my breasts. Like my dad did to your mom. Kiss and suck me between the legs?"
It was the worst possible thing she could have said. For Phil had somewhat forgotten his mother's base betrayal; the reminder set him off anew. He retaliated ruthlessly, vindictively. His hand yanked open the front of her brassiere, bared the white mounds. Another wrenching and her panties were in shreds, the elastic waistband a lewd tatter around her hips. He loosed an animalistic growl, flung himself at the thrashing, scrambling body.
"You wanted to get fucked, didn't you, slut?" he grated, virtually chewing out the words. "Well, here it is. Here's fucking. Hard and mean. The way you cunts need it. Spread, damn you! Before I cripple you for life!" He jammed his knee even more fiercely between her thighs, reveled in her anguished squeals.
A moment later he was over her, his hands guiding his fire-crazed cock to her virginal slot. He jiggled his cockhead cruelly in her wet, slick folds, made that first placement at the barricaded mouth pf her cunt. He pushed hard against the thin seal, felt it give slightly, felt a slight spray of her blood on his upper thighs. Her shrill, desperate scream rang in his ears, became the ultimate goad.
"Please, please, Phil," Priscilla gurgled and sobbed. "Don't, oh, don't! Not that that! Not mean! Be careful, be gentle. Let me get used to it! Oooh, oooh! It hurts! It hurts something awful! I can't stand it!"
Mercy was beyond Phil now. The more she screamed, the more justified he felt, the more completely he was avenging himself upon his cheating mother. He actually groaned as he felt Priscilla's tough little cherry snap, as he felt his dick plunge into her narrow twat, her channel feeling like a rasping washboard as he sank into her to his balls. She yelped, lurched, shook like a fish on the end of a spear.
Phil, generally so passive, so gentle, was totally out of it by then. His prick was a weapon, a weapon he'd use to punish, to retaliate upon, to murder his enemies if necessary. In and out it slammed, plowing furrows in the virgin strait, her stubborn tightness inflaming his cock, scorching his bubbling balls that much more.
While to Priscilla there came now an even more mind-boggling turnabout. And again, as when the masterful youth had forced her to suck his cock, she found pain, repugnance, all sense of outraged humiliation fading. It had been terrible, fierce, maddening at first; her only thought had been to strike out, to hurt Phil as he was hurting her. But now, his gnarled, tough rod sawing in and out of her, dragging deliciously upon her engorged clitoris, new, devastating sensations were born within her. I love it, I love it! she raged inwardly. The pain is all part of it! It makes it that much better. Oh, God, it's beautiful, so beautiful! His prick in me, filling me, plowing me! His prick in my cunt!
"Fuck, you little whore!" Phil spat, thrilled as he felt Priscilla begin to hump back at him, as he heard her pained cries turn to ecstatic, greedy ones. "Fuck!"
"I am fucking," she growled back. "God, am I fucking!" Her voice caught; she faltered in mid-stroke. "That feeling! So hot, so wild! Is that it? Is that what happens? Am I coming?"
"Yes, baby," he seethed, her innocent thrusts exalting him, "that's what happens. You're coming!"
"Good, good, Phil, so very good! Aaah ... aaahh ... aarrgghh! God, bury it, bury it! Fuck it into meeee!" And again, transported to a never-never land of unabashed filth and sexual wallowing, a crazy thought hit her. "Phil? Oh, Phil?"
"What, Priscilla? What is it?"
"When we finish ... when you're ready again. Will you? You know ... like my dad did to your mom? Will you put it in by bottom ... up my ass? Please, Phil? I'd like that so much. Everything!" Her belly ground at his anew, her cannibalizing gash scraping him raw, almost breaking him in two. "I want to do everything!"
This last bravura war cry was all it took, and thrilled to the core of his being, Phil could hold back no longer. "Sweet cunt," he choked, "sweet, tight cunt! Here it comes. I'm coming!"
"Me too, Phil! Me tooo! Again, I'm coming
' again! It's hot and hard ... like electricity ... like I can't stand still ... like I'm exploding, flying in all directions. Yes, darling! I'm coming! Fuck meee!"
While, on the other side of the loft, on another blanket, their bodies naked, bathed in sweat, Steve and Jasmin lay, his prick pistoning in and out of her maddeningly narrow twat, Jasmin wrapping her legs around his back with instinctive grace, using it as a sturdy bridge upon which she performed backward push-ups, her motions savage, merciless.
Jasmin's climax began to build. It felt like her asshole was being sucked inside out, like her hole was being filled with molten steel, like Steve's prick was a red-hot axle, and they would be melted together. And at that sublime moment she wanted to scream; she wanted to piss. She wanted to bite his cock off right inside her hole; that's how good it felt! Her cries of completion climbed in ragged, hoarse glory as she felt Steve jet shot after shot of scalding sap into her womb. Her screams soared to the rafters of the shed, intertwined with her sister's paean to ecstasy.
Unbeknownst to the teen-age bacchants, camouflaged by their pagan act of fulfillment, there were still other interlopers on the grounds. Even as Priscilla and Jasmin courted their first orgasm, a conniving-faced Lauri Maxwell was leading a baffled Darren Farrar around the north side of the house. And so this afternoon he'd decided to kiss her off, had he? He'd seen the light, and was reluctant to carry their sick liaison on any further. So he thought he'd play Holy Joe on her, did he?
No way, she determined. So long as her beloved Wynn was getting his, she wouldn't go without. And since she was positive that Wynn was playing house today, dirtying his very own bed....
And that's how the two families-the Farrars and the Maxwells-learned the truth about themselves at last. When the initial fireworks finally subsided, and each realized exactly what had transpired, it became clear that there was no reason to end it all. In fact, now that their sexual liberation-and education-was complete, the Farrars and the Maxwells-parents and children alike-became one big, happy-and most of all loving-family!
