Rachel writhed in the arms of her newest lover. She was ecstatic!
For once she had met a man who seemed to be equal to any sexual demand she made.
His fleshy, lusty spear pierced the depths of her womanhood over and over again, and she felt the fiery pleasure of an orgasm seizing her flesh, causing it to contract rhythmically around the man's hard-driving manly rod.
Her hips bucked upward with increasing frenzy as her lover's rod plunged into the teeming depths of her hot hole.
For as long as she could remember, Rachel had been more than any one man could handle, and some of the best had tried.
Now she was squealing with ecstasy, as the man's hard-humping body undulated over her hot, squirming one, his hard-pistoning rod cleaving through her juicing hot sex flesh with a fury she had never experienced before.
She raked her fingernails over the man's rippling back as her orgasm peaked, sending her into an outer space of pleasure that was agonizing and a frenzy that was prolonged and delicious.
"Ohh!" she gasped, as her body subsided, quivering, under the torso of the man who had just emptied his balls into her.
"Oh, indeed!"
Rachel gasped, her head rearing up off the pillow.
"Darryl!" she gasped.
"Yes, darling," the tall, elegant man said, sauntering casually into the bedroom where Rachel was locked in adulterous ecstasy with her lover.
"Your husband."
CHAPTER ONE
"Sexual ecstasy! Those concupiscent heights of delirium, where flesh has no limits! Where reason crouches in a comer, sucking its thumb in idiocy! Where right becomes nothing, and power becomes the god of the universe!"
"Darryl, you disgust me!"
Rachel sighed and got off the white satin couch on which she had been reclining. She went to the white, satin-quilted bar in the corner of the living room, going behind it to pour herself another Scotch from the crystal decanter.
Dressed in white satin, she looked the picture of exquisite, elegant wealth, which was exactly what she had in mind.
Her hair was a chestnut brown, which flashed red lights in the warm lighting of the white-on-white room, accented with gleaming chrome and mirrors, and her eyes were a vivid violet, thickly-fringed with dark lashes.
Everything about her was perfection-or at least appeared to be so.
She looked contemptuously at the man who had just delivered his elaborate oration on fucking and sighed.
"If you'd spend less time talking about it, you might be more interested in doing it," she continued, walking around the bar again, and resuming her seat.
Rachel Farragut was five feet six inches tall, and perfectly proportioned. Her white satin gown was low-cut, revealing her fabulous cleavage, and the soft fabric clung to her graceful curves, rippling softly with the undulating lilt of her graceful walk.
"Rachel, don't be vulgar."
Rachel sipped her drink in stern silence for a moment. She was much too well-bred to sulk. She looked around the room, at the graceful decor. At the moment, it posed a bleak prospect.
"There's a difference between vulgarity and the bare statement of facts, darling," Rachel responded.
"Bare, indeed!"
Darryl rose from the white satin armchair in which he had been sitting, and stretched his long, elegant body. Darryl had jet black hair, and very blue eyes. The expression on his handsome face tended toward the slightly bored and cynical one of very wealthy, very idle men.
"Why do you treat me this way?" she demanded, an irritable edge giving stridence to her voice.
"Because I love you."
"Love! Hunh!" Rachel said. She finished her drink, and sat looking out the window which overlooked the penthouse terrace. In the distance, she could see the lights of the city twinkling.
It was altogether a fairy tale setting, but at the moment, Rachel wasn't appreciating it.
"Well, darling, I'm off to the club. Have a nice evening." He deposited the crystal glass from which he had been drinking on the glass. top of the bar, strode gracefully to where his wife was sitting, and kissed her forehead.
"Good night, Darryl."
At the door, Darryl turned to gaze at the vision of loveliness who sat mulling over their rather frustrating conversation.
"You might try reading more. It might take your mind off baser matters, Rachel."
Rachel's blue eyes flashed with a jewel-like fire, as she glared at her husband.
His response was a hearty, musical laugh. He left without making a sound. His tread was always cat-like, and he never, not even in a well-bred temper tantrum, ever slammed a door.
"Why did I marry you?" Rachel asked the door.
It swung open, and Darryl's head peered around it.
"Because you need to be loved," he replied, closing the door again.
Rachel's fingers itched to fling the crystal glass at the white door, but she refrained. She sat, the picture of perfect composure, at least outwardly, for fully half an hour.
The butler walked into the room.
"Dinner at home, madame?"
"Yes, Charles, please."
"Have you any particular wishes?"
"Oh, surprise me."
"Very good, madame."
The butler slipped quietly out of the door, and still Rachel sat, seething with frustration and a vague sense of indignation.
Rachel ate an elegant dinner in the blue-tinted dining room, scintillating with accents of crystal-crystal chandeliers, crystal dinnerware and glassware, crystal candlesticks.
The French windows were open to the spring breeze, and the blue-tinted French sheers billowed in the mild wind.
After dinner, she went to the library. She didn't need Darryl's advice to read. She was always reading!
Tonight, however, she rebelled, and the book lay, opened but unread, in her lap, as she stared out of the windows at a sky studded with twinkling stars.
It was a perfectly beautiful evening-too beautiful to be alone.
With a determined snap, Rachel shut the book, and went to the front hall where her pocket book sat on a table.
She opened it and extracted a card, smiling. Then she went back to the living room and dialed the number on the card.
"Oh, hello, William. It's Rachel Farragut. Yes, yes, it is a lovely evening. Would you like to come over for drinks? Yes, I'm alone tonight. Lovely! I'll be waiting for you."
Rachel hung up the phone, and waited restlessly for her visitor.
She wandered out onto the terrace, which was lined with flowering bushes and small trees, and leaned over the railing, looking at the street far below her.
Ever so faintly, the noise of the traffic reached her ears, a soft, sibilant wash of sound which had none of the harsh, jarring quality it would have had if she were down there.
Rachel was effectively removed from the seething muddling turmoil of life, and that was the way she wanted it.
She smiled, and then smile broadened, and became a silvery peal of laughter. She shivered then and clutched her shoulders with her hands. But she was not shivering from any cold. It was her sexual heat which caused the tremor to shake her body.
For as long as Rachel could remember, she had been tormented by sexual desire. She had started to frig herself when she was nine, and she hadn't stopped.
When she was ten, she had her first sexual experience with "a young playmate two years older than she.
Brought up on Chicago's South Side, the youngest of eight children, Rachel knew only grinding poverty. But even as a young girl, Rachel knew that that would not always be her lot.
like most impoverished children, Rachel was sexually precocious. It was a rainy day, and her parents were quarreling and drinking again. Her older brothers and sisters had left the house.
Young Rachel sat in the room she shared with her three sisters, listening to the quarreling noises getting louder and louder..
She had to get out! She couldn't stand the brutality with which her parents quarreled.
Pretty soon, now, her mother would start throwing dishes!
Putting on a shabby, and much-too-small raincoat, someone's cast-off, she walked quietly out of the apartment,-and down to the lobby.
Jenny Sutter was playing marbles with Ronnie Ames.
"Hi, you want to play marbles, Rachel?" Jenny asked, looking up from her game. The lobby stank of last night's dinners and age. Rachel took a long time to forget that smell.
"No, thanks," she said. She went to the door of the dank, dim lobby, and stared out at the teeming, filthy streets. There weren't too many people around because of the driving rain.
As she watched the street through the window, Pete Smith ran up the steps, into the outside vestibule.
Absently, the young Rachel opened the door for him. Pete's slicker was streaming with wetness, and it glistened in his dark hair.
Rachel had had a crush on him for several years. He was about four years older than she, and he treated her with a good-natured condescension which, as Rachel grew older, infuriated her.
What she wanted more than anything was to be his girl friend. The handsome Pete, however, had many girl friends, and Rachel was just one more girl-a young one at that!
"Hi," she said, smiling as seductively as she knew how.
"Hello! You aren't going out in that, are you?"
Rachel shrugged.
"You're crazy. Why don't you just stay home?" Pete said, walking toward the stairs at the back of the lobby.
"Mom and Dad are drunk again."
Pete looked at her and laughed.
"Well, then come down to my place."
Pete was the son of the superintendent, and they lived in a large, dark basement apartment.
Rachel went willingly enough, her young but ardent pussy creaming at the thought of possibly being alone with Pete.
He was alone. His father was away for the day, doing a job somewhere for extra cash. Pete didn't have a mother.
They sat at Pete's kitchen table, drinking Cokes, and talking.
Afterward, Rachel wasn't sure who seduced whom. She knew that her desire for the boy built by being in his presence. He was easy-going and pleasant, and Rachel had longed to be initiated into the mysteries of sex.
She was already well-developed for her age, and tall. Her budding breasts pressed against her T-shirt, and her nipples, from her growing sexual excitement, After a while, she noticed that Pete's eyes kept straying to her little tit-mounds, and she became more excited.
When they went into the living room, finally, to watch television, Rachel was beside herself with sexual excitement. She was trembling from head to foot.
"Are you cold?" Pete asked her. They were sitting side by side on the couch.
"N-no, not really."
Pete put his arm around Rachel's slender shoulder, and she snuggled up close to him-too close for comfort. Pretty soon she could hear Pete breathing hard, and she placed a hand tentatively on his thigh.
like most street kids, Pete was strong, and she thrilled at the hardness of his muscles, as she caressed him.
She looked down at his lap, and saw the large bulge in his denims. Her mouth got dry with passion, and her heart started to leap in her breast.
Finally, she looked up at him.
He was looking at her, his eyes glowing with lust. She smiled, and reached up to kiss him.
"I like you," she said, artlessly. Her face was very, very close to his.
His lips came down on hers and he kissed her, softly.
Rachel took advantage of the opportunity presented.
She curled her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips more tightly against Pete's lips. She felt the fine tremor in his body, as he responded to the kiss.
Then she felt his tongue slithering into her hot oral cavity, raking the roof of her mouth.
Sue moaned against his lips as his hands moved up and down her back. Then one of his hands cupped her breast, so softly that she barely perceived the pressure, feeling first the warmth of his now sweating palm, before she felt his fingers pressing into the fleshy wealth of her ripening jugs.
She shivered again, more violently this time, lost in the wonder of her sexual bliss, .as Pete continued to caress her breast.
His hand moved down and he lifted up her T-shirt. She hadn't yet begun to wear bras, and she was naked under the flimsy top.
She almost came in her pants when she felt
Pete's warm hand caressing her naked tit-flesh.
He kneaded her nipple between the thumb and forefinger of his hand, and she felt the pink little bud stiffen with erotic arousal. She had wanted a man for as long as she could remember, but never like this.
Her cunt ached to be stuffed.
Pete caressed first one tit and then the other, and then she felt him pushing her back into a reclining position on the couch.
With one deft motion, he had removed her T-shirt, and then undid her jeans, slipping them down off her slender haunches.
Her love mound was lightly-covered with a silky pelt of reddish-brown hair. Grunting, Pete started to caress; her muff, his finger exploring the moistening crevices of flesh.
"You-you want to?" he gasped.
"Oh, yes," she whispered.
Pete didn't need a second invitation. He stood up, still gazing hotly at Rachel's naked, writhing body, and he peeled off his clothes. Then he lay down beside Rachel, and took her naked body into his arms.
She moaned and squirmed against his warm flesh, feeling his heart pounding against her right tit.
Her juices gushed hotly out of her never-opened hole, coating the soft inner flesh of her thighs.
Pete's hands moved over her creamy-white, silken-smooth flesh more and more ardently, and then he pushed her over onto her back.
Rachel spread her legs, growing wild with a lust whose strength enthralled her. She had never felt so wild, since she had discovered the pleasures of her cunt with her own hands.
She whimpered as Pete crouched between her spread-apart legs. His face was flushed with the passion which suffused his body.
She felt his cock head pressing against her virginal hole. Too hungry to wait for his thrust, she arched upward sharply, impaling herself for the first time on the manly spear of a man.
"Boy are you hot!" Pete gasped.
"Oh, put it in," Rachel gasped, as she felt his powerful prick throbbing against the creaming walls of her cunt. "Put it all the way in!"
Pete, a boy of the streets, and not suspecting that he had a virgin in his arms, thrust inward powerfully, lodging his cock balls deep in her pussy with one thrust.
Rachel had been creaming heavily. She felt only a momentary sting as Pete's powerful prod battered through her maidenhead, and then all she felt was pleasure.
Pete gasped, and paused when he realized he had deflowered a virgin, but virginity was not expected in the ghetto, and his surprise was only momentary.
"You should'a told me you were cherry," he said.
"Oh, just fuck me! Fuck me, Pete!" she gasped, squirming against his hairy loins.
The wiry hairs covering his balls tickled the sensitive flesh of her ass cheeks, adding to the wild welter of passion which seemed to possess Rachel like some priapic demon with hot sweet breath.
She felt as if her body were going to explode as Pete started to move in her, pulling his prick out to the tip and then thrusting inward again.
"Ahh!" Rachel gasped, bucking upward to match his downward lunge. She wanted to bury his prick and even his balls in the depths of her pussy.
She had never known such raging pleasure before. Pete lowered himself on her body, pressing her tits flat.
Her nipples tingled with the warm soft contact of Pete's sweating, throbbing chest, as he pumped his prick in and out of her cunt.
His hard, hot, throbbing shaft massaged the itching walls of her long-hungry pussy, and the fleshy abrasion raised her sexual temperature to a feverish pitch.
She threw her legs up in the air, and wrapped them around Pete's body. She felt as if she had been born to do this, born to enjoy the pleasures of sex.
The shabby surroundings in which she had existed for her ten years faded away, and Rachel was everything she ever wistfully dreamed of being-a queen, the most beautiful woman in the world-everything!
And through the lust-blurred haze which dimmed her eyes, even the dark, shabby room in which she was fucking, turned into a palace of endless delight and beauty.
Rachel had a powerful and demanding desire for beauty which had been totally unfulfilled.
Now she felt as if everything wonderful, bright, and beautiful existed within the limits of their joined bodies.
She mashed her swollen pussy lips against Pete's hairy loins. His pubic bush became wet and matted with the thick honey which flowed from her pussy.
Pete's prick started to slam into her harder and faster as his balls swelled with their seething hot load of come cream.
Rachel felt the first fiery pin pricks of passion stirring her sex flesh. Her clitoris popped out of its fleshy sheath and radiated a hot tingling sensation which heightened the erotic chaos which reined in her seething belly.
She started to gasp as she felt the hot, demanding waves of pleasure intensifying in the depths of her body.
Her cunt seemed to close in on itself, like a soft clenched fist, and then her pussy walls started to contract rhythmically around Pete's hard driving prick.
Pete was sweating copiously, and he was reaming out Rachel's over-eager cunt with more and more fury. He worked his arms under her back and pressed her hard against his throbbing, hot torso.
"Oh, good, Rachel, so good!" he gasped, his breath puffing warmly against her ear. She felt him nibbling her earlobe, as he continued to plunge into the depths of her teeming twat, each inward stroke creating more sweet havoc in her womanhood.
And then her whole body seemed to convulse. The marvelous, hot, pleasurable spasms became more and more intense, and Rachel abandoned herself to the ecstatic agony which wracked her body.
At the height of her delicious delirium, she cried out, her heels kicking against Pete's rippling buns.
Then she felt his come cream pouring heavily into her convulsing, quivering quim.
For one brief moment, her body stiffened, and then quivered some more with the fading pleasure of the most magnificent orgasm she had ever had.
When she finally relaxed, and looked up at Pete, he had a blissful look on his face. She reached up and kissed him, squirming against his wet and hairy loins.
"Ohh, please do it again, Pete, please?"
Pete grunted. His prick was still planted, semi-hard, in the soggy swamp of her lust.
He leered at her, and started to pump in her again, his strokes at first shallow, sensual, but increasing as his cock stiffened to full length until once again he was thrusting into her like a pile-driver.
Rachel came again, and begged for more, and Pete obliged. After that, however, Pete was momentarily played out. They had fucked all afternoon, and each fucking session only seemed to whet Rachel's appetite for more sex.
Pete was enthralled and made a date with her for after supper that evening. If his father were home, he knew a place where they could really live it up.
"You're a natural, Rachel," he had said, when she finally got dressed, reluctant to stop.
Even though she had been royally fucked for the first time in her life, when she got to her apartment, she had to frig herself again, so she locked herself in the bathroom, and took a shower, taking care of herself in the tub.
The popping of her cherry had been like putting a hole in a dam. The desire washed over her constantly, and she could never, ever have enough sex. Her cunt was always creaming, and her sex flesh always itched for some more massaging!
Rachel treated sex as if it were some wild, erotic god, and she devoted her life to it.
She craved that absence of self she felt when she was writhing in the throes of her orgasms, and she came easily and frequently.
But there was one problem attached to her voracious appetite, no matter how pleased the boys and men in her life were with her willingness and her wildness.
She couldn't find a man who was equal to her sexual demands, couldn't find a man who could satisfy her. Over the years, this proved to be a source of infinite discouragement to the lust-besotted, beautiful woman.
She would fuck any man she could, and had even made it with several women. She would do anything to experience the wild, almost traumatic upheaval which occurred when she came.
But never, for all her active sex life, could she find the man who could quiet the restless, demanding needs of her body.
She heard the door chimes, faintly, and then heard the murmur of male voices.
"Mr. William Ames," the butler announced, opening the door to the living room.
"Very good, Charles. Send him in, please, and bring us a bottle of champagne."
"Very good, madame."
The butler bowed and ushered Mr. William Ames into the room.
Bill Ames was six feet tall, and powerfully built. A weight-lifter who had once almost made the Olympics, he was now the owner of his own small trucking firm.
Rachel had met him when she was on the prowl in the bars in another neighborhood. It had been instant lust between the two of them.
They had been so hungry for the taste of each other's body, that they hadn't even finished their drinks.
Bill had invited her home, and she had gone. She had been pleasantly surprised. Bill was extremely well hung, and very, very randy.
Rachel had had four orgasms with him before she reluctantly Jeft for her own home, and her own pallid husband.
Tonight, she needed Bill more than ever-him and his ten-inch prick which was so indefatigable.
She walked toward him, and embraced him, planting a wet, sensual kiss on his lips.
Against her muff, she could feel his hard manhood, and she trembled.
CHAPTER TWO
"How are you, Bill?" she asked.
"Hard and ready," Bill replied, taking the bull by the horns.
"Well, I'm wet and ready. Wait till the butler comes with the champagne."
They sat down side by side, gazing at each other hotly, not caring to speak. The door opened, and the butler came into the living room with the champagne, deposited it in its silver ice bucket on the glass and chrome coffee table, and then poured two glasses for Rachel and Bill. He left.
Rachel got up, walked to the door, and locked it.
Bill stood up, gazing hotly at her, and started to divest himself of his clothes. The champagne bubbled, neglected, in the long-stemmed glasses, as Rachel and Bill shed their clothes.
Rachel was only wearing a long satin slip under her white satin gown. Her fabulous body glowed warmly in the lights, and her thickly-furred muff glistened with her hot juices, as she walked toward Bill.
Bill had removed all his clothes, and was now slipping off his jockey shorts. His ten-incher sprang to powerful, throbbing life, standing straight out from his thick pubic bush, a lurid, fleshy stalk that Rachel would not live without!
As she came closer to him, she reached out and grasped his prick, gently massaging it in her sweating palm.
She spread her legs slightly, and walked into Bill's body. His thick, throbbing prick slid against her furry delta of delight, massaging her already passion-bloated pussy lips.
Her swollen pink flaps of flesh throbbed lustfully as she rocked her hips back and forth, a bare inch or so away from Bill's body.
Bill was breathing heavily and he dug his fingers into the fleshy wealth of Rachel's tits, kneading the nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand until they were puckered with hot pleasure.
Rachel felt her clitoris pop out of its fleshy sheath. It felt as if it were burning, and the burning spread until her cunt ached to be stuffed, to be plowed out by Bill's powerful ten-incher.
She walked into his powerful body, rubbing her tits against his hairy chest, enjoying the way the wiry hairs stimulated her swollen breasts.
She moved her hands around his back, and then brought them down to cup his muscular buns. She kneaded his gluteal muscles, as Bill rocked back and forth, rubbing his pulsating rod against Rachel's cunt meat.
Her juices poured from her overheated, insatiable snatch, and lubricated his prick. Rachel pressed her thighs together. The soft inner flesh was already coated with the slime of her desire which oozed steadily from her snatch.
Bill grunted, and started to hump harder against her furry muff, the soft friction of his cock against her pussy lips inflaming the lust-besotted woman even more.
She traced the line of his ass crack, and then slid her forefinger in between his buns.
She probed his ass furrow with the tip of her finger, until she found the puckered brown ring of his ass-hole.
Then she thrust her finger into his bung hole. Bill grunted, and his face became flushed with passion. His craggy, handsome features gleamed with a thin patina of sex sweat.
"Bet you can't fuck me standing up," Rachel said, her voice husky with passion.
With that, Bill pressed his hands around her tiny waist, and lifted her up. Rachel's legs straddled his waist, and she reached down to grasp his hard, hot, demanding peter.
Grasping it at its hairy base, she pressed his bulbous, mushroom-shaped cock head against her juicing sex slit. Bill humped his hips forward, and Rachel gasped with pleasure as she felt her pussy walls spreading as his massive shaft of lust plowed through her silken-soft, creaming sex flesh.
"Eeeh!" she squealed, pushing her hips forward, driving his prick deeper into her hot little hole.
Bill's prick cut through her honeyed hole like a hot knife cutting through butter.
Her sex salve coated his massive shaft, making his inward thrust smooth. She felt her pussy walls tingling from hot delight, as Bill's powerful prick rubbed against her constantly-itching pussy walls.
He buried himself balls-deep in her sweet little snatch, and Rachel locked her legs around his waist, while Bill braced his hands on her back.
Through lust-blurred eyes, she gazed on his face. His handsome features were distorted in a mask of unbridled lust as he started to rock his hips back and forth, drawing his prick out to the tip and then slamming inward again.
She felt his cock probing the teeming depths of her pussy, more deeply than anyone had ever reached.
His cock, pumping in and out of her pussy, sent wild waves of ecstasy coursing through her overheated body.
Grunting, she started to hump her own hips against his hairy loins. His pubic hairs rapidly became coated with the slimy syrup which was oozing out of her tingling twat.
As she lunged against him, she gyrated her hips around, mashing her throbbing pink meat against his slimy-wet pubic bush.
She was creaming so heavily that Bill's prick, lunging into her womanhod with increasing ferocity, made wet sucking noises. The sounds of fucking drove Rachel wild with lust.
She felt as if her body were bloating. Her ears rang as Bill's prick stuffed her cunt to the hilt over and over again.
She clung to him with something akin to desperation, feeling the wetness of his body, as his own heated passion mounted in his teeming loins.
His balls slapped against her ass cheeks each time he plugged her twat, driving her even crazier with passionate bliss.
Bill's hands moved down over her trembling, sweating back, and Rachel felt his palms cupping her ass cheeks.
He moved one finger between her ass cheeks, and she grunted when she felt his finger digging into her dank ass-hole.
The pressure of his finger almost made her feel as if the top of her head were coming off.
He thrust his finger into her ass-hole up to the knuckle and twirled it around as he pumped his prick in and out of her pussy.
"Ohh, good, so good, Bill!" she gasped.
He grunted, and his muscles became hard rocks, as a pre-orgasmic tension gripped his flesh.
Rachel raked her fingernails up and down the man's rippling back, leaving behind welts to remind him of her insatiable sexual need.
Rachel felt as if his prick were cleaving through her belly and emerging from her passion-constricted throat, as he continued to ream out her pussy, while his finger wreaked a hot devastation in her ass-hole.
As her own pre-orgasmic tension built, her body shivered wildly, and she began to sweat copiously. She felt her cuntal walls rippling softly around Bill's hard-driving prick, and her sphincter muscles clamped hotly around Bill's finger.
She felt as if her cunt were on fire, and the fire spread. It oozed up her spine and caused the hairs on the nape of her neck to curl. Goose flesh formed on her smooth white skin which crawled with the growing orgasmic ecstasy which flooded her body.
"Ahhh!" she gasped, as she felt the first spasms gripping her cunt. Her insides seemed to turn upside down. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her juices gushed in slimy hot floods from her well-stuffed snatch.
Bill was not far behind her.
His cock swelled in her pussy, and seemed . to get hotter. He lunged into her like a mad man, his prick plowing deeply into the pink dark meadow of her lust, his cock head butting heavily against the fleshy roof of her cunt.
His balls, long swollen with a seething load of gism, contracted, churning up their heavy load.
With a loud growl, Bill's prick started spewing his manly come cream into her seething snatch.
Rachel felt the hot wet kiss of his gism against her burning, hungry pussy walls, and she squirmed more wildly against him.
The lovers battered each other's body madly, as they writhed in the throes of their powerful orgasms.
Rachel's climax surged upward to its apex, and then the sweet paroxysms of pleasure started to fade away softly.
Finally, her body collapsed, and she hung limply against the solid, powerful body of her lover.
Bill walked backward, his prick still semi-hard in her pussy, and he sat down heavily on the couch, with Rachel still pinned to his lusty manhood.
They drank champagne and kissed and caressed each other for a while, and then Bill fucked her again, bringing her to another monumental orgasm.
Bill was better than most men, Rachel decided. He never seemed to get tired of sex.
But Rachel got tired of him when the sex was over. He wasn't terribly refined or intelligent, shrewd as he was in business matters, and she got irritated with his half-witted opinions.
That was the trouble with men, Rachel had decided. She had a husband who wouldn't fuck her, but who never bored her, and there were others like him. And then there were guys like Bill, who could almost, but never quite, satisfy her sexual urges, but who were crude, and rather dumb.
Bill left at midnight.
Darryl would be home from his club at exactly one-thirty. Darryl was nothing if not punctual and regular in his habits, and it sometimes maddened Rachel that he was so dependable.
People, like Rachel and Darryl, who were very wealthy, need never be punctual but this fact never occurred to Darryl, and he always laughed at her when she presented the theory to him.
Rachel went to bed, and slipped between her white satin sheets. She and Darryl had separate bedrooms, and arrangement which Rachel hated, but resigned herself to-at least for the time being.
Surely, somewhere in the world, there was the perfect man-the man with Darryl's intelligence, wit, charm, and good looks, who could also meet her insatiable sexual needs.
Rachel, from the first time she had been fucked, had needed sex more than anything.
Pete had been a good lover-her first, but always after her sessions with him, which were always protracted and eventually slightly frenzied, she felt a vague sense of dissatisfaction.
She eventually fell asleep, and didn't hear Darryl come in.
In the morning, she was slightly grumpy.
"Have a bad night, darling?" Darryl asked her, as chipper and friendly as always.
"No!" she said, sipping her coffee.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I had a wonderful time at the club. I met Eustace Chesser."
"Really!" Rachel said.
"Yes. He's invited both of us on a cruise of the Caribbean."
"Really!"
"Rachel, do you want to go or not?" Darryl asked, his voice mild.
"I'll have to think about it."
"Very well. We have a couple of days to make up our minds, but the 'Bloody Mary' is sailing from the Sound next Friday, and Eustace would like to know how many of us there are going to be. He'd like to have a full ship."
Rachel sighed, as Darryl rose from the table. "I'm going to play squash. Care to join me?"
"No, thank you," Rachel said, feeling her anger getting the better of her good manners. "Carol Welby is showing her new spring line at the boutique, and I thought I'd go to see that."
"Very well. Have a good day."
Darryl kissed her lightly on her temple, and left the breakfast room to pursue his pleasure, leaving Rachel to nurse her black thoughts.
She had awakened in a bad mood, and it seemed to be going from bad to worse. In a way, it puzzled her.
"Why did I marry him?" Rachel asked herself aloud, frowning.
She remembered the first time she had met him. She was Rachel St. Simone at that time, a widow, a very young widow, and an extremely wealthy one.
Rachel had finally made the big time, pulled herself out of the ghetto and into the beautiful life, which was what she had wanted to do all along.
She was on the Riviera, sunning herself, when Darryl, resplendent in a bikini bathing suit, his magnificent body beautifully-tanned, walked up to her, casting a shadow across her lithe, beautiful body.
"You're in my sun," she said, not opening her eyes.
"Sorry. I wouldn't be if you would permit me to lie beside you and talk to you."
Rachel's eyes flew open at the mellifluous sound of the man's voice, and then her eyes traveled up over his fabulous body to his handsome, intelligent face.
He smiled at her and his deep blue eyes sparkled like the Mediterranean. She felt her pussy creaming instantly, and she returned the smile.
"By all means, do lie down," she said.
Darryl spread his large beach towel beside hers, and lay down, stretching himself out comfortably under the sun.
"My name is Darryl Farragut," he said.
"My name is Rachel St. Simone," she replied.
"So pleased to meet you."
Darryl conversed easily and well, and when Rachel had decided she had had enough sun, Darryl invited her for cocktails to an exclusive yacht club to which he belonged.
She accepted readily-not strictly on the basis of his elegant manners, and his affability, but more because of the magnificent bulge she had seen in his bikini bathing suit.
That was her primary interest.
Since she was nine years old, and had learned the facts of life, Rachel sized a man up according to his manly accoutrements. The rest of him came later.
To her, it was the most natural thing in the world, and she thought any woman who accepted a man on any other terms was slightly under-sexed.
Sh'e had a lovely time at the club, but got restless. Darryl, seeming to sense this, offered to take her home.
She had accepted readily. This was the moment she had been waiting for. She wanted to see that magnificent bulge, wanted to feel his prick plugging her itching, voracious womanhood.
At her hotel, however, Darryl refused an invitation to come to her room. Rachel was furious with him. She went to her room, frigged herself silly, and then went down to the casino to have a drink and do some cruising.
Rachel had become used to the idea that she could have any man she wanted, and she picked one out of the crowd, and got him.
She took him to her room and wore him out until daybreak, but still Rachel was not satisfied.
It is said that hell hath no fury greater than a woman scorned, and Rachel was furious.
When Darryl approached her the next day on the beach, Rachel snubbed him. Darryl seemed not to notice.
At a ball that evening, to which Rachel had of course been invited, he danced with her, chatted with her, brought her drinks, and acted as if nothing at all were wrong.
Rachel felt her anger being disarmed. By the end of the evening, she was thoroughly fascinated with the tall, dark, handsome man.
But once again, he had brought her to her hotel, kissed her hand goodnight, and bid her adieu.
Once again, Rachel was obliged to go out and find a man. This time she was so furious that she found one of the gorgeous bell boys and fucked him wildly in one of the linen closets.
It always purged Rachel of what she called "her bad humors," to go slumming. Frequently, she would go to some sleazy hotel and shack up with some truck driver. And at exclusive beach resorts, she would fuck the bell boys, or the waiters, or other help.
It was her secret vice and she always felt very daring when she did it.
"I still don't understand," Rachel said, rousing herself from her reverie long enough to stare at herself in her mirror keenly.
She had left the breakfast room, showered and dressed, and was now ready to leave for the fashion show at Carol Welby's exclusive boutique.
Darryl never seemed to pursue her, but they always seemed to meet somewhere or other, and soon they became fast friends-in a way that Rachel found rather intriguing. While he never fucked her, never even made the offer, he acted affectionately toward her, and seemed to prefer her company to that of other women.
Perhaps that was it. Rachel's ego received a tremendous boost, because during that social season, Darryl was considered to be the most eligible and the most desirable bachelor on the continent and in the United States.
When, at the end of the season, he asked her to marry him, quite easily, quite casually, Rachel had said yes. He was a prize obviously worth having.
Her second marriage would be the truly glittering event of the season where her first had not been, and, in marriage, she would have a chance to sample his wares-something that she had wanted to do all along.
She didn't realize that their marriage, after a year, would not be consummated, but the plain fact of the matter was, that not once had she ever seen Darryl naked, and not once had he slipped into her marriage bed.
In the chauffeur-driven Bentley, on her way to the fashion show, she leaned back against the cushions of the limousine, and smiled at her own foolishness.
She had tried to seduce him. That hadn't worked. She had quarreled with him. He refused to get his feathers ruffled. She had intimated that there was something wrong with him. He always laughed, and refused to discuss it further.
He could wax eloquent on the nature of sex as a general subject, but he never brought that subject down to a personal, intimate level.
She had threatened divorce, and he had told her to do as she pleased, as mildly as if she had suggested a jaunt in their yacht, "Merry Maiden," around the Sound.
And still she stayed married to him!
The Bentley pulled up in front of the boutique. As usual when Carol Welby had a showing, the society people were out in full force. There were photographers and fashion reporters, as well as several society columnists and gossips.
Rachel sailed through the turmoil as easily as if she were walking across her own living room, and walked into the magnificent shop.
"Rachel, darling! How wonderful to see you!"
Flash bulbs winked as Carol Welby embraced Rachel, kissing the air beside Rachel's ear.
There were times when Rachel could have burst into cynical laughter at some of the social rituals through which she passed.
She always enjoyed them. To the slum-born woman, they were a marvelous game-make-believe come true. She was Cinderella, Snow White, and the Snow Maiden, all wrapped up in one.
But she had to admit to herself what she would never admit to many of her social companions: a lot of the ritual was comprised of hypocrisy, not unmixed with a certain frenzied need to bolster frayed egos.
Rachel broke the embrace, and smiled warmly and sincerely into Carol's eyes, the smile elicited by a sense of the ridiculous. Of course Carol Welby was immediately enchanted, as many people were with Rachel.
"I can't wait to see your confections, Carol. And much luck, darling!"
"Thank you. Paul will show you to your seat," Carol said. Immediately upon Rachel's turning away from Carol, she heard the woman greeting her next guest.
"Corene, darling! How wonderful to see you!"
Rachel was still smiling radiantly as Carol's servile male assistant, Paul, led her to her seat and handed her a program.
"Hello, Rachel. How are you?"
Rachel turned to her right to see Maidie Dixon, a woman who lived in her building. The forty-year-old society matron didn't look her age, Rachel thought.
"You look wonderful," she said. "How do you do it?"
"Hard living!" Maidie said, laughing in her warm, hearty way.
"I hope I look as good as you do," Rachel said. Maidie made no bones about her age, and Rachel had come to her fortieth birthday party.
The room rang with laughter, the clinking of glasses as people drank champagne, and cocktail music in the background.
A fanfare announced the start of the fashion show.
The first model stepped onto the runway, just after the lights had dimmed down. A spotlight picked up the pale mauve print in a dress that was positively see-through.
There were oohs, and ahhs, as the women watched the model, stark naked beneath the filmy creation, undulate down the runway, do her turns and then undulate back.
She was followed by another woman in a creation far more austere.
There was no doubt that the collection was a success. The see-through outfit was sold to Mrs. Jenevere for one thousand, four hundred and forty-five dollars.
Rachel herself bought nothing.
She had some visual impression of the show, but little else except vague vignettes.
All during the show, in the darkness of the elegant salon, she thought about Darryl and her hopeless, sexless marriage.
It wasn't that she had remained chaste to the man. She had not lasted two days into the' honeymoon before she had fucked a desk clerk behind the desk of an exclusive Paris hotel where they had been staying.
What bothered her was that Darryl didn't want her-at least physically, and he didn't seem to want her otherwise, either. He certainly hadn't protested when she threatened him with divorce.
Why did she stay married to him, she wondered. She had decided that there was a challenge involved.
She was determined to get Darryl one way or another. There was no question at all about his sexual predilections. He had had half the women on the continent, and getting Darryl into bed was considered to be quite a social coup, and added cachet to a female's desirability.
There were times when Rachel, escorted on the arms of her husband, watching the envious gazes of many women, and knowing how many of them had had him, when she felt as if she were the most undesirable woman in the world.
Half the female social world had been to bed with Darryl, but she was his lawfully wedded wife, and she had not!
There was an irony there. Occasionally, Rachel had decided that it was punishment for her many sexual sins. She never kidded herself about how she had got to the top.
She had done what came naturally and spread her legs-but after her sixteenth year, she started to spread them for the right men, those men who could help her to get out of the asphalt jungle which stifled her and all her need for beauty and the good things in life.
In the Bentley, on the way back to her penthouse apartment, her mind reverted to the first time she had used sex as a means of gain.
Pete had approached her one day when she was leaving school, and asked her if she wanted to earn some money.
"How?" she had asked him.
"By fucking," he had replied.
"That's whoring!" Rachel gasped.
"But you like fucking," Pete had said.
"How much?" Rachel had asked, after a barely perceptible pause.
"Two hundred and fifty bucks!"
Rachel gasped. In her whole life she never thought she would come into that kind of money.
"I'll do it!" she said, feeling as if her life had just altered drastically. It had.
CHAPTER THREE
Pete's offer was the first indication that Rachel had that Pete was a pimp.
She didn't think about it before she had earned the two hundred and fifty dollars, but she didn't think seriously about it afterward.
Pete and she had had a running affair, and Rachel augmented Pete's sexual services with many other boys in the neighborhood.
At first she had just wallowed in the pleasure, thinking that she was a normal, healthy young girl who loved sex, but as she got older, some of her girl friends, awed at her sexual exploits, had planted in her head the suspicion that she was a nymphomaniac.
The suggestion had initially disturbed her, but then she had decided if she were a nymphomaniac, she might just as well do what came most naturally to her.
If someone were to., offer the poverty-stricken young girl fifty dollars, she would have considered it to be a phenomenal. But Pete had offered her two hundred and fifty!
With that kind of money she could open a savings account, and start getting on in the world.
At sixteen, she had turned into a gorgeous creature. She was tall, elegantly built, and very beautiful. Her features were finely-chiseled and classic, her eyes dominating her face.
For two days, Rachel couldn't eat. Pete had approached her on a Wednesday and told her that the date was set for Friday. She was nervous, and she didn't like the idea of being a whore, but in addition to the money, there was the added incentive that she had never whored, and she could add it to her sexual experiences. And for Rachel, the more she had, the more she wanted, and in as wide a range and variety as possible!
Pete refused to tell her where he was taking her. He merely told her that he would pick her up at eight o'clock.
Rachel was not under any kind of supervision.
Her parents' drinking had gone from bad to worse, and one day, when she was twelve years old, her father had walked out of the apartment, and never come back.
Her mother had gone on welfare, and kept on drinking. The eight children raised themselves as best they could. All her sisters and brothers had quit school some time between their fourteenth and sixteenth year.
Rachel had stayed on. She did the minimum amount of work she needed to keep her grades at passing level, but something in her basically sound, practical mind informed her that if she wanted to get ahead, she had better at least finish high school. At least it was one step.
With no guidance at all, she did little else, involving herself in the daily life of the street children with whom she grew up, and thinking only one day at a time.
Rachel dressed as best she could. Her wardrobe was meager. However, her taste was excellent, and the clothes she did pick up on sales were good, and simple, and attractive.
She wore no make-up, not really needing any, and her chestnut hair glowed, since she always kept herself meticulously clean, a habit which was as much a revolt against her mother's slatternly habits as it was an instinctive delicacy in her own nature.
Pete met her and drove her to an exclusive hotel in the better section of town.
Rachel was awed by the elegance of her surroundings, by the way the women she observed dressed and walked and talked.
As they rode in the elevator to the top floor, which commanded a breathtaking view of the city, she lost some of her nervousness, and began to get excited.
"Now, listen, baby," Pete said quietly to her, as they walked down an infinitely long corridor toward their destination, "just keep your mouth shut and do what you do naturally."
"Are you sure that's all he wants?"
"He! Them! It's a party!"
Rachel's eyes widened with shock and a little anxiety.
Pete stopped, and put his hands on her shoulders.
"Listen! You can do it. You let the guys gang-bang you on the roof. This is the same thing only classier. Oh, and watch your language. Just do what you do best. Believe me, baby, you'll be fine. I'll pick you up at midnight, and we'll split the take then. If they give you more than a thousand dollars, you can keep the difference, but you bring the money to me, here?"
Rachel nodded, and they turned a corner. From one of the rooms, she heard laughter and the tinkling of cocktail glasses.
Pete rang one of the bells, and it was opened almost instantly.
Rachel was awed at the dimension of the room, not to mention its decor. In the room were four businessmen, and one woman, all of them expensively dressed, and slightly tipsy.
Rachel immediately got excited. They were such handsome people, and they talked so nicely. Their manners were wonderful.
Rachel had too much street wit to mimic without knowing exactly what was involved. She had seen some of the girls at school sticking out their pinkies when they lifted cups of coffee and tea to their lips, and knew it for affectation without quite knowing why.
But the big mystery to Rachel, was elegance, refinement. She wanted it and wanted to know how to get it.
"Unh, thank you, Mr. Smith," a tall, handsome blonde man said to Pete, when he had introduced Rachel. "She's beautiful!"
"I'll wait for her downstairs. I expect to see her at midnight," Pete said, quietly withdrawing.
"Well, come on in, Rachel. Would you like a drink?"
Rachel accepted a glass of white wine, and followed Pete's instructions, remaining quiet except when spoken to, and keeping her voice as low as possible.
Finally, the woman, whose name was Maura, stood on a mahogany coffee table, and began to do a strip.
She had a beautiful body, and Rachel felt herself very attracted to the woman.
Rachel had experimented sexually with some of her girl friends, eager for any and every kind of sexual experience, so she was no stranger to lesbian love.
She found out shortly that that was exactly what was initially required of her. The four men wanted to see the two women making it together.
"Come on, sweetie," the woman said, beckoning to her seductively. "Let's get it on."
"Oh, yes!" one of the men laughed. "Get it on, but take it off, first," he added.
There was laughter and applause, and Rachel felt a thrill of excitement as she stood up to undress.
Rachel had always loved being in the limelight, and the wine had gone instantly to her head, so she was relaxed, and willing to perform.
She did her own strip tease, and in a few moments, she stood before the four men and the women, nude, and glowing with excitement.
She felt no embarrassment at all. After all, they had been nice and friendly to her, and she had relaxed somewhat, losing her initial shyness.
"Let's go into the master bedroom," someone suggested.
The doors to the other rooms of the suite had been closed, and Rachel was fascinated to discover that the hotel room was much larger than she had thought.
The room into which they went was large, and it contained a king size bed. Maura lay down on the bed, and immediately put her hands to her pussy, arching her hips up, and gyrating them in a sexy, horizontal dance.
Rachel watched her for a while, smiling and getting more and more excited. And then the men started to remove their clothes.
That was all the incentive Rachel needed. Once the men had bared their erect, throbbing cocks, Rachel's juices flowed more and more heavily, and she started to breathe in laborious gasps.
The woman reached out her arms to Rachel. "Let's show them what women can do to each other, honey," she said, her voice husky with lust.
Rachel got on the bed, and lay beside Maura and then the two women embraced.
What really excited Rachel was doing it with another woman in the presence of the men who stood around watching.
Eventually, their took their cocks in their hands and started to pump on them, as Rachel and Maura kissed.
Rachel knew she was good, sexually, but Maura taught her a few things, and gave her enormous pleasure.
Their tits throbbed, pressed together in their embrace, and Rachel moaned loudly as she felt Maura's tongue slithering into her mouth.
She sucked on Maura's tongue, drawing it even more deeply into her mouth. Knowing how excited she became by grunts and groans, and all the other wet, sucking sounds of sex, Rachel sucked noisily on Maura's invading colossal organ.
Their saliva mixed as they turned each other on.
Rachel felt her heart pounding wildly against her rib cage, as she moved her lips downward, tonguing her way along Maura's throat, until she had reached one of Maura's tits.
She started to suck on the nipple, clamping it between her teeth gently and lashing at it with her tongue until it was stiff. Then she circled her tongue around and around, in ever-widening circles, until she had covered Maura's tit with her saliva.
"She sure is!" one of the men gasped, his voice husky with his own raging lust.
Cheered on to bigger and better things, Rachel tongued her way to Maura's other tit, and performed the same services on the woman. Maura squirmed and gasped, her very excitement arousing Rachel still more.
When she had finished tonguing Maura's tits, the woman pushed Rachel over on her back, and did the same to her, until Rachel's gorgeous, melon-shaped mounds were swollen and throbbing with sexual excitement.
Her juices had flowed so heavily from her pussy that the soft inner flesh of her thighs was coated with them.
"Now!" she gasped, hot and aching with her growing need. "Now!" she gasped, pleadingly at Maura.
"Oh, yeah, baby," Maura groaned.
Maura got on top of Rachel, and her thighs braced Rachel's head, her mouth at Rachel's pussy.
Rachel inhaled deeply the pungent musky aroma of Maura's aroused womanhood, and then her tongue flicked out and made contact with the incredibly soft, bloated flesh of Maura's pussy.
Maura's cunt, like Rachel's, was already engorged with blood, and Maura's pussy lips had sprouted from between her plump white, thickly-fringed outer lips.
Rachel teased the protruding tips of pink flesh, nibbling gently on them and flicking her tongue, lizard-like over them.
Maura started to squeal, and she rocked her hips up and down, humping against Rachel's skilled, inquisitive mouth.
Rachel reached up and grasped Maura's outer white lips, and spread them apart, watching, fascinated as Maura's inner lips flowered outward, like some lurid blossom.
Maura's juices had started to gush heavily from her small little hole, and some of them dribbled in a slimy stream onto Rachel's chin.
She started to lick her way up and down on Maura's pussy, systematically laving every inch of her bloated sex meat.
Maura, in the meantime, was not idle. She had opened her mouth wide, and engulfed all of Rachel's pussy in her mouth.
She started a sucking motion with her mouth that further inflamed Rachel.
Rachel bent her knees up, and started to buck up against Maura's mouth, trying to drive her pussy deeper into the woman's hot oral cavity.
Maura was doing something that Rachel had never thought of doing, and she decided to follow suit.
Opening her mouth wide, she enclosed all of Maura's thickly-haired delta of delight in her mouth. She felt Maura's thick pubic bush tickling the roof of her mouth as she started to suck.
Maura moaned against Rachel's pussy lips, and Rachel felt the vibration all the way through her body.
Lightning-like waves of passion kept flickering in the depths of her lust-besotted flesh, and she squirmed against Maura's mouth harder and faster.
Her own juices were flowing hotly, trickling out of her hole, and as fast as they flowed, Maura's hard-working tongue slurped them up.
With Maura's whole pussy in her mouth, Rachel brought her tongue into play again. She alternately used a sucking motion with her mouth, and then released the suction to slurp up and down over the swollen pink folds of Maura's sex flesh.
The fragrance and the taste of Maura's sex juices were turning the ardent teenager on even more.
She felt as if her body were bloated with the passion which seethed in her cunt.
She felt the fiery pin-pricks of an orgasm starting in the depths of her belly, flickering in insistent little ripples through her, causing her to sweat copiously.
She brought her hands up to cup Maura's ass cheeks. She deftly inserted one finger between her buns, and probed for Maura's ass-hole.
Maura's mouth was working wildly on Rachel's pussy, and Rachel was rapidly coming to her first climax.
She moaned and whimpered, and her body bucked with increasing fury against Maura's soft flesh, as the woman teased and licked at her cunt, occasionally nipping the hairs which thickly covered her love mound, adding to the pleasure which had already taken possession of Rachel's body.
Rachel thrust her finger into Maura's ass-hole and started to twirl it around. She felt the woman's sphincter muscle contracting against her prying digit, felt the hot gush of fluids which announced the start of Maura's orgasm.
Once Maura was well on her way to climax, Rachel felt free to let out all the stops and surrender to her own carnal delight.
The orgasmic chaos seethed through her, and her juices flowed lavishly from her convulsing cunt as she started to come.
Her mind became a seething mass of nothing but sexual impulses, and her ears rang with the hot ecstasy which threatened to annihilate her.
Around the bed, the four men, pumping on their cocks, observed the two women writhing together like rutting snakes in wet grass on a hot day. Their white flesh jiggled, and the wet sucking sounds they were making as they ate each other out only inflamed the men more.
As Rachel sucked steadily on Maura's pussy, she drove her tongue upward, pressing it into the woman's hot, convulsing hole to suck up the juices, and then slithering downward again to her clitoris, which had become inflamed and elongated.
Both women were whimpering now, and they both had the same reaction to their ecstasy. The more excited they became, the harder their mouths worked on each others' twats.
They were sweating copiously and their flesh, undulating together, made wet sucking noises as they slipped and slid over each others' heated, drenched bodies.
Rachel's torso arched upward violently as her orgasm shot through her, and tingled hotly.
It was as if her cunt were the nucleus of a marvelous, fleshy explosion which wreaked havoc in her entrails. She squealed loudly against Maura's pussy and then felt a hot gush of come cream flowing from the woman's pussy.
She pumped her finger harder in and out of Maura' convulsing ass-hole, as she sucked up all the juices from Maura's fast-flowing larder of lust.
The woman mashed her pussy meat hard against Rachel's mouth, as she came violently.
At the peak of their orgasms, Rachel felt a warm splash on her forehead. She opened her lust-blurred eyes, and looked around her.
The men were all starting to come, and they were spewing the liquid contents of their cocks on the bodies of the two women, writhing in carnal ecstasy.
Rachel's orgasm faded slowly, and when the two women had relaxed, glowing in the warm aftermath of their orgasm, they smeared the come cream of the men all over their bodies, laughing and getting hot and excited again.
Rachel always remembered that party with warm pleasure.
One of the men served drinks, and they sipped quietly for a while, enjoying their post-orgasmic relaxation, and then they started in all over again.
This time, Rachel found herself mounted by the blonde man whose cock had become large with lust.
He plowed through her pussy passionately, and Rachel came. Rachel was always greased by a first sexual encounter, and the more sex she had, the wilder she became.
When it was time to shower and dress, to go down to meet Pete, Rachel was extremely reluctant to go.
One of the men handed her ten one hundred dollar bills, and then another hundred dollar bill.
"That one is just for you. Hide it away somewhere," the man said, smiling at her. "You're the best little hooker we ever did have in our lives, and we'll ask especially for you the next time we're in town."
It was that statement that caused Rachel to think very seriously about Pete's proposition.
For her, it had been a lark, and a chance to earn some unheard-of money. She had wound up with not two hundred and fifty dollars, but three hundred and fifty dollars.
In the car, she handed the money to Pete.
He counted off two hundred-dollar bills, and then reached into his pocket, pulling out another fifty.
"There you are. Did they give you any extra?" he asked.
"They gave me twenty-five for myself," Rachel said shrewdly.
Pete smiled.
"Good! That means they liked you."
He drove her home without a comment, and fucked her furiously for the rest of the night, which pleased Rachel immensely. She had not considered herself sated by any stretch of the imagination by her long sex session with the four men and the woman.
But when Pete came to her two weeks later with another proposition, Rachel turned him down flatly.
Her own good common sense told her that being a prostitute wasn't the answer to her dreams, and she had been deeply offended by being called a hooker.
Pete got furious with her, but Rachel remained adamant.
The following week, Pete came to her apartment. No one was home.
He had another proposition.
"No, Pete. Once was enough. Once makes it a sexual experience. More than once, and I'm a whore!"
"What are you talking about! You're a whore anyway!"
"No, I'm not, Pete. I just like sex, that's all, and I'm not going to do any more hooking for you."
Pete made the biggest mistake of his life at that point. He struck Rachel.
Rachel staggered backward, slightly stunned by the blow, and then, almost without thinking of it, she picked up a rung-backed chair near where she was standing and broke it over Pete's head.
Pete went down like a ton of bricks, dead unconscious.
The blow had cut his scalp and given him a minor concussion.
Rachel didn't even try to account for him. She merely dragged him out into the hall, into the dark alcove near the service stairs, and left him there.
When he appeared the next morning, having been discovered by his father, and taken to the hospital, he had four stitches in his scalp, and a completely different attitude to Rachel.
He never talked to her again, but he never bothered her, either. He kept a respectful distance.
Rachel could do that when she wanted to.
The Bentley pulled up in front of her building, and the doorman rushed to open the door for her.
"Thank you, James," she said to her chauffeur. Thank you Ned," she said, nodding affably to the doorman.
He smiled, tipped his cap, and opened the door to the lobby.
Up in her penthouse, the butler opened the door for her.
"Mr. Murdock is here, ma'am."
"Ahh good, where did you put him?"
"In the library, ma'am."
"Has my husband come in yet?"
"He came in and changed his clothes. He wishes to inform you that he's having lunch with Ruben Podrick and Franz von Wentzel at the club, and you can reach him there if you wish to speak to him."
"Oh, he and his club!" Rachel said, putting her pocket book down, and sailing into the library.
"Hello, Mr. Murdock. What news do you have for me?"
The tall, somewhat beefy, if still powerful man, rose from his seat, and shook hands with the beautiful society matron.
"Nothing, Mrs. Farragut, not a blessed thing!"
"Well, where was he last night?" she asked.
"At the Racquet Club, with three other gentlemen, Mr. Fonsey, Mr. Podrick, and Mr. Chesser."
"Oh, dear!" Rachel exclaimed, sighing.
"Of course, if you still have suspicions, we can pursue the case."
"Yes. Let me write you a check. Keep on it. Are you sure he hasn't spotted you?"
"He's no fool, Mrs. Farragut. I'm quite sure he spotted the first couple of detectives we put on his trail. But I assure you, none but my best men have been following him since."
Rachel made out a check, and handed it to Mr. Murdock.
"Well, carry on! At least it's fun knowing that my husband is being tailed by detectives."
"Beg pardon, Mrs. Farragut?"
Rachel laughed, and escorted the man to the hall door.
"Nothing, nothing, really. I was just being flip."
Mr. Murdock was absolutely the best detective in the city, according to Rachel's friends, but he himself had not measured up to Rachel's fanciful notions of what a detective should be.
"Life is a considerable education," she said, as she passed her French maid.
"Oh, I should say so, ma'am!" the French maid replied, bustling into the bedroom with her mistress, to assist her.
"Does madame wish a bath?"
"Yes, a nice, scented, lukewarm bath would be just lovely! And then I'll wear the Maurice Revel dress for the rest of the day. Oh! Tonight's your night off."
"Yes, ma'am. What shall I lay out for dinner?"
"The white peau de soi, Francine. thank you."
"Very good, madame."
Darryl came home an hour before dinner, shaved, showered, and changed into a tuxedo, and then joined his wife, in the white living room.
"Martini, darling?"
"I think not, Rachel. I had two at the club."
"Who won at squash, dear?"
"I did, naturally. Oh, Tom Dixon wants to know if we'd like to join them for dinner tomorrow night?"
"Has he consulted Maidie?" Rachel laughed.
"I assume so!"
"Well, darling, that's funny, because Maidie didn't say a word."
The phone rang. Darryl answered it.
"Oh, hello, Maidie. Why yes, Tom did mention it. Fine."
Darryl covered the receiver. "It's Maidie. Tom has broached the subject to Maidie, who thinks it's a lovely idea. Tomorrow at eight?"
"Of course, love."
Darryl accepted and hung up the phone. Rachel was eyeing him keenly. "Darryl."
"Yes, darling."
"Since you don't fuck me, how do you get your sex?"
Darryl looked at her, his eyes twinkling. "I beat my meat, Rachel."
CHAPTER FOUR
For once in her life, Rachel was thoroughly stunned by Darryl's retort.
Instead of engaging in further discussion, she put her drink on the bar, and turned to study his elegant, long frame, his handsome, slightly world-weary face.
"Good night, darling," she said abruptly.
She left the room swiftly, and went to her bedroom, seething with rage and indignation!
She had been sure that he was having an affair, or at least sleeping around. That was why she had put detectives on his trail. They had come up with something with had prompted her to confront her husband with the question which had provided her with such a devastating answer.
Now the question for Rachel was not so much why she had married Darryl as why he had married her.
Having left the living room and retired from the fray, so to speak, she had no intention of going back to ask that question which had occurred to her after the fact.
She sat in her room, licking her psychic wounds, wondering where to turn, or what to do.
Her life suddenly seemed to be very complicated, and she wondered what she could have done to avoid the changes through which she was now going!
After she had effectively put an end to her fairly steady affair with Pete, she had concentrated on her studies, and finished high school.
Rachel lay down on her white satin bed, and stared at the crystal chandelier which hung suspended like a diamond fantasy from the ceiling, twinkling softly in the dim light of the room. Her mind traveled back to her ghetto home again, as she tried to untangle the twisted skeins of her life.
She got a job in an accounting office, working as a clerk, first. But she applied herself to her job, took secretarial courses at night, and managed to become the secretary of the owner of the firm.
Part of her job was fucking him, which she did with enthusiasm. The more sex Rachel got, the happier she was, and she needed it all the time. As a matter-of-fact, the older Rachel got, the more she needed it.
One man was not enough-ever!
Her boss was a randy bastard, and Rachel smiled, remembering him with fondness. He was good to her, in his way, even though Rachel went through a period of feeling that her prospects for getting out of the slum, and out of the grinding poverty, were slim, indeed.
Her salary was small, and her raises only came occasionally. She tried to salt money away, to add to the small hoard she had accumulated due to her venture in whoring, but her savings account, at the end of a year of working for Smith, Williams, and Company, still came far short of what she had hoped.
One day, she had walked into her boss's office, after she had done a particularly good job on a report, and she asked him for a raise.
Warren Smith had smiled at her, leaned back in his chair.
"You're always asking for raises," he said.
"That's not true. But you keep giving me more responsibility, and I don't think my salary is equal to what I do."
"But you're earning more money than any of the other secretaries," Warren replied.
"They don't do as much as I do!" Rachel said, persisting in her demand.
She saw Warren leering at her, and for once, her financial needs took precedence over her sexual needs.
Warren rose from his chair, came around the desk, and, taking Rachel's hands, brought her to her feet.
"You're gorgeous, you know that?"
Rachel's pussy creamed, but for once, she restrained herself. She pulled away from him.
"What's the matter?"
"I want a raise," she said, somewhat sullenly.
She sat down on the couch at the far end of the room, and crossed her dimpled knees. "You do, ehhh?" he asked. "I do!" she said.
Her eyes wandered to his crotch. He hada hard-on, and Rachel started to tremble. Warren sighed.
"You're a stubborn little bitch, but all right. I'll give you a five-dollar-a-week raise. How's that."
"Ten!"
Warren laughed, and ran his fingers through his thick brown hair.
"If you want ten," he said, his eyes glowing with lust, "you're going to have to earn it."
"Then it should be fifteen, since you get fringe benefits from me!" Rachel said, folding her arms across her fabulous tits.
"I'll tell you what," Warren said. "I'll give you ten dollars a week now, and a week's salary at Christmas for a bonus."
Rachel sighed with relief. Warren was a nice man to work for, if not particularly generous, and his offer was good. She had got the raise she asked for, and he had promised her a Christmas bonus-something he never gave.
She smiled at him, and started to take her clothes off. Warren strode to the door and locked it.
In moments they were both naked. Warren had a big cock, and he was very sexy, a fact which Rachel appreciated.
But this time, she felt a little bit like a whore, as she lay down on the couch and spread her long, slender legs.
Warren, who had undressed near the desk after locking the office door, walked toward her, his eyes raking her body lewdly.
Rachel, happy because of her raise, elated at her victory, licked her lips with excitement, as she gazed at his cock, which bobbed lewdly with each step he took.
He stood over her for a moment, when he reached the side of the couch, and gazed down at her naked loveliness.
Rachel caressed her breasts, and pulled at her puckered nipples, inciting her boss to carnal riot. The resilient flesh of her breasts yielded to the pressure of her pulling, and became slightly conical.
Warren was a handsome man, well-built, and trim. His cock, red with passion, was fat and indefatigable, and Rachel, watching its redness, felt the itching hunger seizing her inner sex flesh.
Her cunt started to flow with liquid lust, the juices trickling warmly down her hot, quivering tunnel of lust, further stimulating her pussy flesh.
Warren pressed one knee between her spread-apart legs, and braced his body by pressing his hands against the arm of the couch, behind her head. He smiled down at her, teasing her.
Then he lay on top of her, his cock pressed between their joined bellies, throbbing powerfully.
His weight pressed Rachel into the cushions of the couch, and his warm flesh pressed against hers, caused her skin to ripple with a growing excitement.
Her heart throbbed in her chest, and reverberated through her lust-besotted body as Warren kissed her, his moist lips parting hers, his tongue slithering between her non-resisting teeth to wreak a sweet havoc in her mouth.
"Mmmmm!" she moaned, sucking on his invading tongue.
Her pink petals of sex flesh swelled with the growing sexual riot which seethed in her, and pouted from between her plump white outer lips, as Warren kissed her and dry-humped her.
She mashed her sex flesh against his hairy loins, feeling her clitoris pop out of its fleshy sheath. Her little love button felt as if it were electrified. It sent tingling signals of a growing lust through Rachel's body, as she writhed under Warren's torso.
Warren raised his hips, and Rachel felt his hard, hot cock pressing against the entrance to her cunt. She started to gasp, her sexual heat reaching the boiling point.
Grunting, Warren thrust inward, and Rachel gasped against his mouth as she felt his thick prick plowing through her hot tunnel of love, spreading her pussy walls wide.
A mini-orgasm shot through her, causing her to tremble, as Warren pushed into her well-greased hot hole, until he was buried balls-deep in her pussy.
His cock felt like a firebrand. A raging fire of intense lust burned in Rachel's loins, as she squirmed hotly under Warren's warm body. She began to sweat, her lovely flesh gleaming with a thin patina of perspiration.
She arched her hips up, gasping with the hot pleasure of being stuffed with Warren's magnificent cock. It throbbed strongly against her quivering, teeming pussy walls, heightening the fabulous sensations which gripped her and drove her crazy.
She could have spent her whole life fucking. The pleasure. was the most marvelous thing which Rachel knew. It enthralled her, made her forget momentarily her meager, love-starved, shabby life.
To her it was everything wonderful and grand and good, and she surrendered hotly to Warren's prick as he started to glide it in and out of her creaming cunt.
Rachel arched upward as Warren lunged into her, wanting more and more of his manly rod in her pussy. Her cuntal muscles rippled rhythmically against Warren's prick as he pushed deeply into her, and then pulled out, his hard, warm flesh massaging the maddening itch which had taken possession of her inner sex flesh.
Warren braced his arms on either side of
Rachel's body, and fucked her in a push-up position.
Rachel ran her hands down over his chest and belly, marveling at the smoothness of his skin. She squeezed his manly nipples, feeling them stiffen and pucker with pleasure as she kneaded them.
Each inward lunge of Warren's cock sent more and more heat through her enthralled flesh.
As he plunged into the teeming depths of her womanhood, his hairy loins mashed against her swollen pussy meat, stimulating her even more.
Rachel looked down over the ripe, lush curves of her body, and watched Warren's gleaming sword of lust appearing as he arched his muscular buns upward, and then watched it disappear as he cleaved through her sex flesh.
The very sight of his massive pole enhanced the lascivious pleasure she was feeling, as she responded to his fucking with her own humping motions.
Deep in her pussy, where Warren's thick, bulbous cock head reached, she felt a hot, wet pool of animal pleasure building, spreading outward, until her whole body writhed with the sensation.
The pleasure which radiated from her pussy seemed to spread outward in lightning-like waves, gripping her muscles, causing goose flesh to form on her skin. She was sweating heavily now, and Warren was sweating, too. His perspiration dripped onto her already moist body, adding to the wonderful pleasure.
Warren kept thrusting inward, strongly, steadily, his cock seeming to cleave through her flesh and emerge in her throat.
Her whole body seemed to swell with her passion, and her engorged pussy lips throbbed with her pulsating blood. Even her ears rang as the blood boiled wildly in her veins.
The pressure increased, until Rachel's body was taut with pre-orgasmic tension.
She gasped, and her head pressed back against the cushions of the couch. Her hips bucked upward wildly, with a frenzy that jarred Warren's downward-thrusting torso. Her mouth opened wide in a soundless scream of ecstasy, as she felt the fiery climactic ecstasy course through her, getting stronger and stronger which each inward thrust of Warren's fat, wonderful prick.
Her eyes closed, and she saw bright colored lights flashing behind her eyelids, as the pleasure built and built.
Warren's hairy balls slapped wetly against her quivering, humping ass cheeks, his hairy loins having become soaked with the thick nectar of desire which oozed out of her well-stuffed snatch.
The wanton joy built in her, and Rachel became a superwoman. She felt as if she had transcended her own flesh as her orgasm took possession of her body.
Her hips writhed madly, and she drove her cunt flesh lasciviously, ardently, against Warren's loins as he continued to lunge into her, his strokes becoming faster and harder.
Her cunt convulsed powerfully against Warren's hard-humping prick. She felt his cock swelling in her pussy, heard him grunt, and she knew that he was about to come.
Then his come slit exploded with a warm, thick load of come cream. To the lust-besotted Rachel, it felt as if Warren's cock were shooting fire into her already inflamed womanhood.
His juices mixed hotly with hers and swelled the slimy tide which trickled out of her hot hole, and made a warm pool on the leather cushions of the couch.
The pleasure kept building, until Rachel felt as if she had no more mind. She was all cunt-a huge, sucking, juicing pussy, and Warren's cock was so big that it filled her whole body, pushing all her other internal organs out of the way.
The spasms intensified until her orgasm reached a peak. Her body stiffened, arched upward.
Warren was gasping as he continued to piston his prick into her quivering, convulsing cunt at a furious, tempo. He emptied his balls into her seething snatch, and continued to pump into her until her orgasm had faded away, leaving her quivering, wet and warm in the aftermath of her delicious delirium.
"Nice, Rachel," he grunted, as his body collapsed on top of hers.
Rachel lay panting under Warren's body for a moment, her insides feeling like mush. Then Warren pulled out of her. They got dressed, and Rachel went about her duties for the day.
Before the afternoon was over, however, Warren had fucked her again. Rachel could always count on being fucked at least twice a day by Warren, who seemed to have as insatiable an appetite as herself.
And then there were always the countless boyfriends she had for her evenings.
But Rachel always went home alone. There was her liquor-besotted mother, and at this point in her life, two sisters left at home.
One was pregnant and unmarried, and also on welfare. The other just hung around, doing nothing. Rachel suspected that she was a heroin addict, but there was nothing she could do, nowhere she could turn, and she didn't relish turning her own sister in.
But she did want desperately to get out of that home, that environment, which beat down on her, sometimes seeming to crush her.
One afternoon, after work, she walked dejectedly to the local pub where most of the young working people of the neighborhood hung out.
It was her eighteenth birthday, and no one had noticed-not that anyone ever noticed her birthday. She never even mentioned it.
But it was particularly oppressive to her on this particular day for some reason.
Jenny Sutter came up to her. Jenny, like Rachel, had turned out all right, all things considered. Jenny had a job in a textile mill. She wore her salary on her back, and looked forward only to getting married, and having children.
Jenny didn't seem to think that her environment was so oppressive.
"Hi, Rachel," she said. Her eyes were sparkling. Rachel had ordered a wine, and the bartender brought it.
"Hi, Jenny. What's new?"
"Oh, I have a new boy friend!" Jenny said, breathlessly.
Rachel smiled.
"Is he the marrying kind?"
Jenny shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't know," she said, the smile fading somewhat. "But we've been going together pretty steady now for about five weeks. His name's Jim Williams, and he works for his father."
"What does his father do?" Rachel asked. She didn't really care. She was just making small conversation. She liked Jenny Sutter, and hoped for the best for her.
"Oh, his father's rich. He owns that boat-building place-what's the name of it?"
"I don't know," Rachel said. "But that sounds nice. Maybe he will marry you."
Jenny wanted to get married so badly, that she construed every attention any man gave her, as interest, as a possibility. Rachel had tried to tell her that getting desperate didn't get the man, but Jenny was a chronic optimist, and chronically, almost feverishly bent on her mission in life.
"Maybe," Jenny said. "I'm getting old and I want it to happen soon."
Rachel laughed.
"Jenny, we're only eighteen!"
"Seventeen," Jenny corrected.
"No, I'm eighteen-today."
Jenny gasped.
"Let's celebrate. I'll buy you a drink," she said.
"Save your money, Jenny."
"I don't have to. Once I'm married, my husband will take care of me."
"Sure," Rachel said, sarcastically, "if he doesn't turn into a drunk like your father, or drunk and disappeared, like mine."
"Oh, I wouldn't marry a man like that," Jenny said. "Now Jim, for instance!" Jenny stopped and gasped.
"I have an idea. Let's go. Finish your drink."
"Where are we going?"
"I know where Jim hangs out. It's sort of a classy place, and kind of dull, but I'll bet we'll meet him there. Maybe he'll take us someplace nice."
"Jenny! You can't do that!" Rachel exclaimed.
"Of course I can! He's my friend! Come on."
Curious, if a little appalled at Jenny's presumption, Rachel Finished her drink, paid for it, and left with Jenny.
The section of town to which they headed on the bus was solid and prosperous. Rachel had never ventured far from her daily environment, and she felt distinctly out of place when Jenny took her to a rather elegant cocktail lounge at the corner of a pleasant and quiet street.
It was only partially Filled, and the noise level was very low, which also pleased Rachel.
"Good evening, ladies," the bartender said, smiling at them in a friendly manner. "What will it be?"
"Unh, a gin and tonic for me," Jenny said, "and whatever my friend wants. It's her birthday and we're celebrating."
The bartender grinned, and provided the drinks.
"On the house for your birthday," he said, grinning at Rachel.
Rachel relaxed, and had a good time at the cocktail lounge. Unlike Jenny, she didn't find the place dull at all. The people appeared to be cultured and well-bred, those traits which Rachel desperately wanted to have.
Beautiful she was, and she knew it. But she also knew that there was more to life.
Jenny didn't find Jim at Waite's Inn, the name of the cocktail lounge, but Rachel found another place to go, and she went frequently after that.
It was at Waite's Inn that Rachel met her first husband. He walked in one day, lean, tanned, expensively dressed, and white-haired. He was probably sixty, but he had the build of a forty-year-old, and he didn't look any older than that.
Rachel was sitting in the corner of the elegant mahogany bar, talking to the bartender with whom she had become very friendly.
The man sat beside her, and Rachel knew he was interested in striking up a conversation. She had watched him noticing her, the minute he walked through the glass doors.
"Good evening," he said. "Good evening, Rod. A martini, please, very dry."
"Good evening, Mr. St. Simone, how are you?"
"Fine thank you. Excuse me," the distinguished-looking man said, turning to Rachel, "would you like a drink?"
"No, thank you. I have one."
The bartender brought the man his martini.
"Ahh, Mr. St. Simone, this is Rachel Miller."
"Miss Miller, a pleasure," the elegant man said, smiling warmly at the beautiful young girl.
"Thank you," Rachel said, taking the hand he offered her. His grip was warm and strong.
They talked for a while, and when Frederick St. Simone had finished his martini, he offered to drive Rachel home.
She refused, leaving by herself. Her reasons were simple. She lived in a slum, and she had no intention of revealing that fact to the handsome man. He was just back from a cruise, and was a regular at the bar.
The next time they met, he took her home with him, an invitation which Rachel wouldn't refuse. She had never been with a man as old as Frederick, and she was curious.
She was also pleasantly surprised. He was more than adequate, and for the lovely nymphomaniac, that was fine.
He lived in a luxurious penthouse, overlooking the lake. Rachel had never seen such wealth and such beauty. She was ecstatic.
When Frederick pulled her into his arms, his warm, sensual lips covering hers, Rachel felt more aroused than ever. Beauty always did that to her, and she had great admiration for the man who possessed those things which Rachel wanted.
He was powerfully built and horny, and Rachel felt her juices gushing from her cunt as she sagged against his superb body.
His kiss was long and deep and gentle. Rachel melted in his arms, turned to seething, warm mush. She felt as if her flesh were melting as she closed her eyes and surrendered to his kiss.
He broke the kiss, and led her into the bedroom, which was as beautiful as the large, gorgeously-decorated living room.
He laid her on the bed, and began to undress her slowly. Rachel writhed under his hands as he caressed her soft, beautiful flesh.
"So beautiful," he murmured. His hands explored her body, striking chords of ecstasy wherever he touched.
Rachel felt as if every nerve and fiber of her body were alive and tingling with intense pleasure as he massaged her passion-swollen tits, and cupped her creaming muff.
He undressed, and Rachel was not disappointed. His cock was thick and long, and it throbbed with lusty life.
He lay down beside her, and pulled her against his warm, hard body. She writhed wildly against him, rubbing her muff against his thickly-haired loins, as he kissed her again.
Her nipples puckered hotly, as she rubbed them against his chest, her hands exploring the rippling, hard muscles of his back, his lean waist.
Her pussy lips swelled, and her cunt almost ached with the desire that filled her. This wasn't just sex. This was sex in an environment that she craved.
It was as if the desire she had for beauty mixed and heightened the constant desire she had for sex.
Frederick rolled her over onto her back, and then lay on top of her. She felt him spreading her legs by inserting his knee between her dimpled knees, and then she felt his cock head pressing against her sex slit.
She shivered with anticipatory pleasure, as his cock head thrust inward, and her pussy walls spread.
Her body, pulsated wildly with the passion which surged through her, as Frederick slowly and sensually plumbed the depths of her creaming cunt.
He thrust into her until his cock was buried balls-deep in her hot juicing tunnel of love.
Rachel responded fiercely to his prolonged and sensuous love-making. Frederick fucked her as she had never been fucked-and with the elegance that seemed to permeate every aspect of his life.
Moaning deeply, he started to move in her, sliding his cock out to the tip and then sliding it inward again, his hard shaft massaging the creaming, itching walls of her cunt.
Rachel's hands roamed wildly over Frederick's magnificent body as he pierced her womanhood again and again with his lusty, fleshy sword.
She cupped his magnificent, tanned buns, kneading the rippling muscles, as he rose and fell, driving his cock deeper and deeper into her quivering, insatiable snatch.
The hot fleshy abrasion of Frederick's cock in her pussy raised her sexual heat to a feverish pitch which suffused her entire body as she writhed under his hard-humping torso. She arched upward, pressing her flesh hard against his flesh, wanting to feel his cock thrust deeper and deeper into her.
Frederick's fucking rhythm became faster and faster. His hairy balls pressed against Rachel's quivering, humping ass cheeks, as he lunged into her hungrily, his prick creating sexual riot in the depths of her pussy.
Their wet flesh was virtually fused together with the heat and wetness of their desire, as they wrestled in sweet sexual agony on the bed.
His cock battered her passionate, always-hungry twat, and Rachel became delirious with the wildness of the sensations which surged through her.
She threw her legs up in the air and wrapped them around Frederick's waist, as she became light-headed with the growing passion which possessed her.
Frederick's cock continued to piston in and out of her pussy furiously, as she started to come.
"Ahh!" she cried out, as the soft spasms gripped her sex flesh. She felt as if she were being thrust off a wildly-spinning earth into a seething space of pure pleasure.
Her body was wracked deliciously with the orgasmic convulsions which gripped her, enthralling her.
Frederick moaned, Ids voice guttural with his own passion, and she felt his cock swelling in her cunt, felt it getting hotter.
And then she felt the hot wet kiss of his spunk as his cock spewed forth its viscid load of cream.
She writhed wildly under his hard-driving loins, as the convulsions intensified. Her cuntal walls sucked rhythmically at Frederick's spewing prick, as she tightened the grip of her arms and legs around his writhing body.
Frederick emptied his balls into her seething cunt, and kept on pumping until Rachel had come down from the delicious delirium which had possessed her.
She lay under him for a long time. Even after fucking her, Frederick was marvelous.
Rachel was used to fucking men who left her after they were sated. But Frederick was a considerate and tender lover. He caressed her and soothed her and she fell asleep in his arms.
After that, she saw him frequently. If he weren't as indefatigable as some of her younger lovers-and there were many of them, since Rachel was never satisfied, he was always gentle, and he made Rachel feel warm and cared for.
Frederick always offered to either drive her home, or tried to give her money for a cab. Rachel always refused, instinctively knowing that it wasn't elegant to accept such gifts.
Six months after they had met, Frederick offered to marry her. At first the offer had taken her breath away.
She told him quite plainly at that point about her background, and indicated that she lacked a lot to make him a good wife.
Frederick had laughed.
"Culture," he had said, "is an acquired trait. It is learned, like reading and writing, and I can teach you a lot, my dear, for the pleasure of your company as my wife. I'm lonely, and I'm very fond of you. It brings back my youth to be with you."
Rachel finally consented, and they were married quietly by a Justice of the Peace'. Rachel Miller had become Mrs. Frederick St. Simone. She was a member of society.
Awed by her position, she applied herself strenuously to learning what she had to know. Her' own basic good sense came into play, and the job was neither strenuous nor unpleasant.
After a year of marriage, she had become a fairly accomplished hostess. And during all the time of her marriage, she never ceased to believe that she was living in a fairy-tale world.
She was haunted frequently by the feeling that it would all fall down around her ears, or that she would wake up one day, stripped of everything that had so miraculously fallen into her life.
Frederick, while vigorous, was not enough for the lovely, insatiable Rachel, and she sought other sexual adventures.
But she was discreet about them, and Frederick never found out about her other lovers, or if he knew, he kept his knowledge to himself.
Since Rachel didn't have to work any more, she had a lot more time to indulge her favorite occupation, and she indulged it to the hilt.
The more sexual escapades she indulged in, the more she wanted. And in her position, the opportunities, and the variety of those chances, was astounding.
Secretive about her voraciousness, she discovered among other society matrons, a proclivity toward the same kind of sexual adventures as she indulged in, but they talked about it among themselves.
Rachel decided that this she would never do. It was one thing to put horns on her husband's head.
It was quite another to brag about it.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rachel fell asleep frigging herself. When she awoke, she frowned, puzzled. What was bothering her?
With a gasp, she reared up in bed, knowing!
Darryl's remark the night before! How dare he, she thought, springing out of bed with the same kind of vigor that used to mark her rising to go to work.
Impelled by her anger, she showered vigorously, and dressed herself, not even thinking to call the maid.
"Good morning, darling," Darryl said as she walked into the breakfast room. "You're up early."
"Good morning, Darryl," she said, snapping the linen napkin sharply and laying it across her lap.
"Busy day?" he asked, noting her energetic movements.
"Yes," she said.
Rachel knew exactly what she was going to do, as soon as Darryl left the house.
It was Thursday. At exactly nine forty-five, Darryl would leave the house and proceed to his gym, where he would work out for two hours. He did it every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.
At exactly one-thirty, Darryl would proceed to the yacht club where he would have lunch with several boating friends. Their afternoon would be leisurely. They might play golf if the weather were good, or if it rained, they would play pool.
Darryl would arrive back at the penthouse at exactly five-thirty, and he would then shower and shave and dress for dinner.
Tonight they were dining with the Dixons. That meant that sometime in the afternoon, Darryl, thoughtful as always, would phone in an order for a corsage for Rachel to wear with her gown, which order would arrive either just before or just after Darryl had come home.
"What are you wearing to dinner this evening?" Darryl asked her, true to his steady self.
"The yellow satin," Rachel said, smiling slyly at her husband.
Darryl finished his coffee, and rose from the table.
"Have a good day, dear," he said, kissing her on her smooth white temple.
"You, too, dear," she replied.
She looked at her wrist watch. At exactly nine forty-five, she heard the quiet click of the door being closed. Her smile became broader.
At exactly nine fifty, Rachel made a phone call.
"Hello, William. How are you? Yes, it is a lovely day. Would you like to come for lunch?"
Rachel laughed at whatever answer William gave her. Absently, her hand went to one of her lovely breasts, and she fondled it.
"Well, then," she finally said, her voice low and husky, "come earlier. Come as soon as you like. Fine. I'll see you when you get here."
Rachel hung up the phone, and paced the living room floor, getting impatient. Her newest lover was a satyr, exactly the kind of human animal Rachel needed!
But today, he was going to serve another purpose as well.
Rachel was determined to force Darryl's hand. He was an incredible mystery to her, and she didn't like mysteries.
The day was ideal for what she had planned. The cook and butler had the day off, and would not be back until after ten in the evening.
Her French maid would do her laundry, ironing, and mending, would clean her room, and then would retire to her own room, where she would wait for her mistress to call her.
The housemaid, whose room was in back of the kitchen, seldom did any heavy work on Thursday, and generally had the house in good order by noon. She would spend most of the afternoon shopping for the week's supplies, which was her chore, and Rachel had already given her the menu for the week.
When the doorbell rang, she answered it.
"Hello, servants on strike?" Bill asked, pinching her breast as he walked past her into the hall.
"No, Thursday is their day off-except for the housekeeper, but she shops. I always answer the door and the phone on Thursday."
Bill had money, but not the kind of money Rachel had, and servants were beyond his ken.
It amused him that the lovely, horny woman was waited on hand and foot.
Rachel closed the door, trembling with erotic expectation, and slinked up to Bill. She threw her long, white arms around his neck, and kissed him. She traced the curved line of his lips with her tongue.
"Let's go, babe," Bill said, his voice husky with desire.
Rachel moaned, and sagged against his body, rubbing her muff against his massive bulge.
"Come on," she said.
She led him into her white bedroom.
Bill whistled.
"Fabulous!" he exclaimed, looking around the room.
Rachel stood near the bed, and began to undress herself slowly. Bill did the same, letting his clothes drop to the white, thick rug. His massive hard-on popped up as he slid down his jockey shorts, and stood at a forty-Five degree angle to his flat, hard belly.
Rachel's breath hissed through her teeth as she saw his naked, priapic splendor.
Bill walked toward her seductively, grinning lewdly at her, his eyes raking her lush, gorgeous body.
Reaching her, he pulled her into his arms, and then fell with her locked in his embrace onto the bed.
He kissed her hotly, his tongue gliding into her mouth, caressing her tongue and the delicate pink membranes of her hot oral cavity.
She reached between their bodies, and grasped his thick prick, caressing it softly. She moved her hand from its hairy base up to his bulbous, mushroom-shaped tip.
Then she moved her hand downward again. She reached beneath his fabulous prick, and started to knead his hairy, big balls.
She squeezed his wrinkled, fleshy globes, until she felt the hard nuts encased in each ball, pulling gently on them.
Bill grunted, and his hand moved to her tit, his tongue still exploring her mouth.
Rachel shivered with a growing ecstasy, as she continued to tease Bill's balls. She moved her hand up again, closing her fingers around his thick rod of lust, and once again moved up to his cock head.
She pressed her fingertip against his come slit and smeared the drop of pre-come which glistened on the tip of his cock around his sex flesh.
The warm slimy feeling of his come cream excited her so that she moaned with the sweet agony of desire which welled up in her.
She sucked on Bill's tongue and then bit the tip of it, as Bill's big hands caressed her tits. She felt her breasts swelling with a growing passion .
Her nipples had puckered and tingled hotly with excitement, as Bill kneaded the resilient flesh of her boobs, arousing her with increasing wildness.
She humped her muff against Bill's hairy loins, feeling her juices gushing hotly from her quivering hole.
Bill's hands moved down over her body, and he kneaded Rachel's firm, dimpled ass cheeks. He traced the curved line of her ass crack, and then slid the tip of one finger up her spine.
Rachel's skin crawled with the erotic excitement caused by Bill's teasing. Her grip on his massive cock tightened, and she started to sweat as her sexual hunger built to fiery intensity in her loins.
Bill pushed her over onto her back. He had yet to break the hot, passionate kiss. Their saliva mixed as their tongues wrestled wetly together.
She spread her legs wide, trembling with pleasurable anticipation, as Bill crouched between her long, lovely limbs, and pressed his prick against her creaming, hot hole.
Too hungry to wait for his thrust, she bucked upward, impaling herself on his lusty spear.
She felt her cuntal walls spreading before the fleshy onslaught of his spear of lust. He cleaved through her honeyed flesh like a hot knife through butter, and Rachel felt her body bloating with the wild waves of passion which threatened to inundate her.
Her thighs were soaking wet with the dew of her desire which had flowed lavishly from her pussy. She spread them wider, bending her knees, pressing the soles of her feet against the mattress to brace herself, as she bucked upward against Bill's hairy loins.
His cock slithered into her well-oiled pussy, until he was planted balls-deep in her creaming meadow of desire.
Rachel thought she was going to explode with the lusty pleasure which took possession of her ripe flesh.
Her blood raced through her veins, causing her ears to ring and her temples to throb violently. Her heart beat like a trip hammer against her rib cage. She felt light-headed, dizzy, with the carnal riot which seethed in her belly.
"Ohh!" she gasped, as Bill lowered his body on hers, and started to move in her.
His chest pressed against her tits, intensifying the throbbing which already possessed her ripe mounds of flesh, and her nipples stiffened even more tightly, as they rubbed against his sweating, warm chest.
Her pink inner sex flesh pouted from between her plump white outer lips, pulsating with the lusty blood which engorged the delicate flaps of flesh.
His hot hard shaft slid in and out of her rippling, creaming cunt with a steady rhythm which drove Rachel crazy.
She had the feeling, as the insane pleasure built to an even greater pitch, that his huge pole had traveled the full length of her belly, and that his cock head as he lunged inward were hammering at the base of her throat.
The tingling ecstasy eddied through her like warm pools. She felt as if her insides were melting, as Bill's indefatigable prick plunged into her teeming twat over and over again.
She bucked upward, her upward humping motions meshing with his downward lunges.
She mashed her swollen pussy meat against his hairy loins, spreading them wide as she pressed into his pubes.
Her pussy meat crawled with wild, orgasmic pleasure as she writhed orgiastically under Bill's hard-humping body.
She raked her fingernails over Bill's back, and then kneaded his fabulous ass cheeks, savoring the way his muscles bunched into tight cords as he slammed into her with increasing frequency.
His balls slapped against her humping, quivering ass cheeks, as he pistoned in and out of her sex slit, his cock pillaging the creaming, chaotic depths of her pussy and driving her closer and closer to the delicious abyss of forgetfulness which she craved more than anything.
As her love cream flowed more heavily from her well-massaged pussy, Bill's hairy loins became wet and matted.
His prick made wet sucking noises as he plugged her twat over and over again, reaming out her pussy wildly.
He fucked her like a wild rutting animal, and Rachel responded in kind, her body squirming and writhing under his furiously, as the heat built in her until she felt she were going to explode.
Her tiny love button became inflamed and elongated. It peeped from the pink, wet, fleshy folds which hid it and tingled madly, adding to the lustful upheaval which had turned her body inside out.
Bill started to grunt, and he pumped into her more violently, as his balls swelled with a boiling load of come cream. His balls slapped against her ass cheeks harder and faster.
Her cuntal walls closed in around his prick, almost sucking the juices out of his hairy fleshy globes.
She threw her legs up in the air and wrapped them around Bill's powerful waist, and mashed her pussy flesh lasciviously against his hairy loins as he humped into her again and again, his prick plundering pleasure from the teeming depths of her wet and wanting womanhood.
The spasms which began in her cunt, causing it to clench like a soft fist, intensified, until her whole body was convulsing with the climactic ecstasy of her release.
She squealed loudly, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, as her sex flesh exploded with lightning-like flashes of relief and carnal joy.
At the height of her orgasm, Bill's spewed the contents of his magnificent balls into her pussy.
His come cream mixed with her honey and swelled the slimy tide of her lust. It trickled out of her well-stuffed snatch and oozed down her ass crack, staining the satin sheets beneath her buns.
Her head seemed to spin around and around as she was wracked with the delicious agony of her climax.
Bill emptied his balls into her, and his body collapsed on top of hers. The two of them lay glued together for a while, and then Bill reached up, his semi-hard prick still encased in her fleshy cuntal sheath, and he pulled a pack of cigarettes from her night table, and lit one.
The two of them shared the cigarette, as Bill's cock got hard in her pussy again. Then he snubbed the cigarette into the crystal ashtray, and started to fuck her again.
"Oh, yes, I want to be fucked until I'm out of my mind!" she gasped, arching her hips up against him as he started to pump in and out of her hot wet snatch again.
"I'll fuck you into unconsciousness!" Bill growled, as he plowed through her hot wet meadow of lust.
This time he braced his hands on either side of her body and fucked her in a push-up position.
Rachel wanted more of his prick in her hot pussy, and she threw her legs up over his shoulders. This increased the depth of penetration, and she squirmed as she felt his bulbous cock head battering the roof of her fleshy cave of lust.
He looked hotly at her quivering body.
Rachel started to caress her own tits, wanting to turn him on more and more. His face was red with his passion, and it gleamed with a thin patina of sex sweat, as he pumped his prick in and out of her quivering pussy.
The fires in her loins licked higher. Her cunt had turned into a seething cauldron of lust, as Bill plunged into her twat violently, taking possession of her wantonly.
Rachel abandoned herself to the wild ecstatic turmoil which reigned in the depths of her cunt, possessing her body powerfully. As he fucked her, his cock got bigger and bigger in her cunt.
She clenched her pussy muscles around it as he pulled out, creating a sucking pressure which aroused him to even greater wildness.
Rachel was ecstatic and absolutely beside herself. For once she had met a man who was equal to her sexual demands.
His fleshy, lusty spear pierced the depths of her womanhood over and over again, and she felt the fiery pleasure of another orgasm building in her womb, seizing her flesh. Her cuntal walls contracted rhythmically now against his hard-driving prod, as he lunged into her teeming twat.
Rachel had always been more than one man could handle, but Bill was close to being sexual perfection.
If only he weren't so crass, so ignorant!
She raked her fingernails over his chest, and then pinched his nipples, as he dipped his wick into her with increasing frenzy. She could tell by the sounds that he made that he was getting ready to come again, and she let her own orgasm take hold of her again, and drive her crazy.
She closed her eyes, and her body felt as if it were floating up off the bed, reeling in a space that was filled with nothing but fleshy bliss.
Her cunt convulsed violently, as her second orgasm peaked. The sweet agony rushed over her and ripped a loud scream from her throat, as she felt Bill spewing his second load into her cunt.
Bill, totally beside himself with his own passionate upheaval, didn't hear the door of Rachel's bedroom open, any more than Rachel did.
She writhed under Bill's undulating torso, as he emptied his balls into her and then collapsed on top of her quivering body.
Rachel wasn't finished yet. She had just started as far as she was concerned.
"Ohhh!" she gasped, slipping her legs off Bill's powerful shoulders, and letting them lie close to the sides of his body.
"Oh, indeed!"
Rachel gasped, and her eyes opened at the remark.
She looked over Bill's sweating shoulder, to see Darryl standing in the doorway, actually leaning against the door frame.
His face had a look of amused, dispassionate curiosity on it.
"Darryl!" she gasped, her jaw dropping.
Bill, looking over his shoulder at the man advancing into the room, muttered an exclamation, and pulled roughly out of Rachel. He stood up on the side of the bed opposite to where Darryl was, too shocked to even consider his nakedness.
Rachel flinched when Darryl reached down, and pulled her to a sitting position. She felt her come cream, combined with Bill's gism, oozing out of her tingling hole.
"Well, hurry up. We'll be late for dinner," Darryl said, pulling her to a standing position, and slapping her smartly on her bare buttocks.
"What?" Rachel gasped.
"I assume you want to shower, too," Darryl said, smiling at the frozen Bill.
He shook his head, his eyes wide, and hastily started to get dressed.
Rachel, too, was so shocked, that for a moment she was immobile.
She looked at her bed table clock.
It was only four-thirty! Darryl had come home early.
Bill, still only partially dressed, and messily at that, rushed out of the bedroom. Shortly afterward, Rachel heard the door slam.
Darryl turned to Rachel.
"Well?" he asked.
Rachel just stared at him, speechless. Finally she gulped.
"Do you want a divorce?" she asked.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Darryl said. He walked toward the door, and turned on his well-polished heel.
"Do hurry and get ready," he said.
"But we have plenty of time," Rachel said, sitting down on the edge of the bed again, totally, absolutely bewildered.
"Of course we do. I thought, since it's a perfectly delicious evening, that I'd take you for a carriage ride through the park. Wouldn't you like that? It's certainly romantic enough.".
Romantic! All Rachel wanted was her husband to fuck her, and he was talking about pre-prandial excursions in a horse-drawn carriage through the park!
She stormed into her bathroom, and took a shower, and then dressed. Only after she was dressed did she summon her French maid to do her hair.
When she came into the living room, her corsage from her husband had arrived. It was a gorgeous calla lily, and Rachel put it in her glossy hair.
"Charming," Darryl said.
He handed her a drink, which he had already poured.
"Darryl, I don't understand you," she said.
"That, Rachel, is your problem."
"I've been unfaithful to you!"
"You've been that since our honeymoon," he said lightly.
"You don't mind?" she gasped.
"Of course I mind! Do you think any man-likes having horns put on his head?"
"Well, it needn't happen, you know," she said, slyly. "You could do your duty."
"My sense of duty and yours are quite different, Rachel," Darryl replied, quite seriously. "Now hurry up and finish that drink. It's almost six, and I would love to take that carriage ride."
Rachel was not too upset to enjoy the carriage ride. The light was soft, and fading into a dark blue twilight. The sky was royal blue, faintly orange at the horizon, the arch of the sky already twinkling with stars.
The setting sun turned the windows of the skyscrapers, the tops of which were visible through the lacy patterns of spring leaves on the trees, into molten gold, and as they trotted through the park, away from the sound of traffic, a peacefulness descended on Rachel.
She leaned back in the carriage and enjoyed the ride, enjoyed the companionable silence between herself and Darryl.
"Why don't you just get angry with me?" she asked, as the ride was almost finished.
"What purpose would it serve?"
Rachel laughed at her own question.
"I really don't know, Darryl. But you're just not natural."
"No, I suppose you think I'm not."
She looked at him, at the strong, clean profile, his square chin, curious.
"Well, you're right. I don't!"
"There are terrible gaps in your education, Rachel, that I do wish you'd fill in."
"Like what?"
"Like learning the value of constancy, of self-discipline, of faithfulness."
"What for?"
It was Darryl's turn to laugh, but the laughter had a tinge of irony in it.
"Because you'd be happier, and you'd no doubt make me happy."
"I could make you happy," she said, as the carriage stopped, and Darryl alighted, assisting Rachel to the ground.
. "Not the way you are now, you couldn't."
It was dark now, as they walked leisurely to their apartment building, and their dinner with the Dixons.
"What more could a man want than a wife who's a nymphomaniac?" Rachel demanded.
"I don't particularly care who put that idea into your head," Darryl said. "But I do wish you'd abandon it. It's a particularly infantile notion-as is your attitude toward sex."
Rachel gasped, genuinely offended.
"I am not, and never have been, infantile!" she retorted.
"You have always been that."
"You forget! I grew up in a ghetto. I've known the facts of life since the day I was born, almost!"
"People from slums do tend to be infantile. I suppose they can't help it, but you've had some help up in the world, Rachel, and it's time you left the slums behind."
"Darryl," she asked, as they rode in the elevator to the Dixon's apartment, "why did you marry me?"
Darryl fixed her with a long keen look, and then his face became radiant with a warm smile which caused his blue eyes to flash beautifully. Rachel's cunt creamed with desire, as she basked in the warmth of the smile.
The elevator opened onto the Dixon's floor, and Darryl stepped out, Rachel's hand in the crook of his elbow. They walked down the thickly-carpeted hall to the Dixons' apartment.
"That, darling, is an improvement over your usual question of why you married me. I still have hope for you. After all, pig-headed as you are, you are not without intelligence."
Rachel's mouth was still gaping when the Dixons' butler opened the door at Darryl's ring.
Her spine crawled as she stepped into the foyer. The butler took their light wraps, and then led them into the living room.
Rachel fully expected the evening to be rife with tension, but Darryl did not, as usual, comply with her expectations.
Smiling warmly, he greeted Tom, while Maidie hugged Rachel, and kissed her cheek-not, Rachel noted, which was why she was so fond of the woman, the air near her ear.
Rachel responded in kind, and they were soon settled down to cocktails before dinner, and some honest, pleasant conversation.
But still Rachel couldn't get over the feeling that something was about to happen-something important.
She just hoped it wouldn't happen at the Dixons' home!
She preferred to keep her dirty linen under wraps.
CHAPTER SIX
As it turned out, the Dixons triggered a strange kind of thinking in Rachel.
The Dixons had known Rachel since she had married in Chicago. They were friends of Frederick's, and they visited frequently, and also frequently invited the St. Simones to their home in New York.
When Rachel had married Darryl, whose home was New York, it was Maidie Dixon who had found them the gorgeous penthouse in their building. While it was being decorated, they had stayed at one of the more exclusive hotels overlooking Central Park.
The two men, at dinner, turned their conversation quite naturally to boating. The two women had their say in the matter, since both of them were also experienced sailors.
They were discussing one particular race which had occurred in Bermuda probably two years prior.
Rachel's ears tingled, and she became slightly tense. There was something about the way they were describing that race!
"No, no, no!" Tom exclaimed with friendly animation, "Lascaux won the race. That was the year that they had the horrible squall right in the middle of the. . . "
"Francesco DeBierre won the race, and it was two years ago," Rachel said quietly.
Her husband looked at her with some amusement.
"I wasn't aware that you kept score, darling."
"I don't, but that was the very day Frederick died. He was supposed to enter 'Freeda's Folly,' but he was ill. He insisted, however, that I take him to the docks so that he could follow the progress. Yes," Rachel said, lowering her head for a moment, as profound silence reigned in the room, "it was two years ago today, as a matter-of-fact."
"Sorry, dear. I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."
Rachel, truly fond of Frederick St. Simone, picked up her glass of champagne and raised it.
"To Frederick," she said. "I hope he's happy."
The assembled company toasted the man who had made Rachel rich. It wasn't the wealth that Rachel wanted, although she certainly had a love for money. It was the elegance, the grace that were now hers, the beauty with which she was surrounded, the manners and culture to which she had been accustomed which she loved more than anything.
Money, of course, bought it, but having acquired it, Rachel knew that it could have been had without money, and that many people have it anyway. It had to do with sensibilities, with appreciation and an ability to respond to what was beautiful, a quality in thinking and doing.
Without ever having put it into words before, Rachel had gradually, living with Frederick and learning assiduously from him, perceived that, and lived by it.
At the moment, being able to mentally articulate that need of hers, it jangled somewhat raucously in her mind.
Frederick had not died of old age. He had been stricken down with cancer of the lungs, and he had no more devoted nurse in his final days than his very young wife.
When he had died, the evening of that race, Rachel hadn't thought in terms of money or inheritance. She was grief-stricken in a vague but painful way, and she moved perfunctorily through the last rites, and then slightly less perfunctorily through the following months.
Eventually, as his will was finally probated, and their family lawyer called to give her the date of the reading, she began to wonder what would happen to her. She had no doubt that Frederick would have left her something, but she still thought in terms of being an interloper, and she dreaded having to return to her old lifestyle.
She was genuinely, absolutely shocked when the will was read, and Rachel was, with the exception of some minor bequests to a few friends and servants, made sole heiress of Frederick's estates, which were phenomenal.
All she had known was that Frederick was wealthy, and high-class. She had absolutely no idea how much he was worth, and her mind boggled when the attorney tried to explain.
"But what do I do with all that?" she had naively asked the lawyer who had become wall-eyed at her innocence.
Usually considered somewhat of an adventuress, that comment alone, more than her faithful nursing of Frederick during his last illness, which had truly impressed everyone, caused people to drop the suspicion.
However, as in everything else, Rachel, with the help of the family solicitor, did learn to manage and handle well.
She had spent everything Frederick gave her, and he was generous, but she had seldom asked for more, and now, with more money at her disposal than she ever thought possible, she had to learn how to budget, to handle financial matters.
She was unusually quiet for the rest of the evening. Something kept humming in her head, and she wasn't quite sure what it was, but something nagged at her.
When they reached their penthouse, she walked into the living room to pour herself a drink. She had barely touched the after-dinner cocktail which Maidie had poured her.
Maidie, noting her quietness, had left her alone. She was one of the few women in Rachel's life, who gauged the hot and horny woman at a worth which Rachel herself wasn't aware of. She knew that Rachel was keeping vigil with Frederick's memory, and perhaps with more, as well.
Throughout her widowhood, Rachel had found plenty of studs to service her. She had a string of them, and somehow or other, no matter how many times a day she got fucked, she managed to keep her profile low.
It was one thing to be a slum girl, and to be gang-banged on a roof. It was quite another to be a society matron, a respectable widow. As she didn't brag about her sexual conquests to her female friends, who seemed to enjoy broadcasting the names of their lovers, so she didn't talk about her sexual accomplishments when she was once again eligible.
Rachel hadn't even thought of getting married again. She wasn't sure why.
But as she sat silent in the living room now, just barely aware that Darryl was sitting in his favorite armchair, having a nightcap himself, she realized that marriage to her had always been something fraught with danger.
It was two people who had a piece of paper which legally entitled them to something, but all the marriages she had known had been less than worthless. They had been downright disastrous.
Among the society people whom she knew, fully half of the women had married for money. And the other half were evenly divided between those who had married for convenience, and those who had married for love of varying kinds.
Rachel had never even considered love. It was something she had never had and never expected to have, and she had a practical, down-to-earth contempt for the romantic notions of love which most of her peers had entertained.
But surely, she thought, she could say that she had loved Frederick-or had she? She wondered how much of her marriage was made up of the need to be taken out of her old environment.
Whatever else she could say, she had been fond of him. She had felt her affection for him within several months of her marriage, and she had nursed him because she wanted to-not because she was putting on an act.
And she truly missed him.
If he had been younger, and more sexually vigorous, it might have been real love!
And then she remembered her quarrels with Darryl. Now, instead of being aggrieved and irritated by the memory of them, she was genuinely distressed. They rankled.
Darryl was definitely getting at something. He kept talking about love. Every time she asked him why she had married him, he had said because she needed to be loved. He claimed constantly that he loved her.
She started out of her reverie.
"What?" she gasped, surprised that she could, after the fact, know that Darryl had said something, without having noted what it was he said.
"I said, are you coming to bed?"
"No," she said.
"Well, good night then. Sleep well."
"What?"
Her eyes, slightly unfocussed, turned to her husband. He was staring at her gravely, near the door of the living room.
"I said, 'Goodnight. Sleep well.' "
"Thank you," Rachel replied.
When Darryl had left the room, Rachel went to the bar and poured herself another drink. She was thinking so intensely, that she was speeding. She didn't want to think in this particular manner. It was painful!
She downed the second drink quickly, and then poured another one. Her head started to buzz, and felt less feverish.
She opened the French windows, and walked out onto the terrace. It was quiet and beautiful in the open air, and just slightly cool. She shivered a little, and leaned against the railing.
As the liquor took effect, the nagging, troublesome feeling lessened. Instead of thinking, her mind was now flashing kaleidoscopic images, and most of them were erotic.
She felt a vague longing deep in her breast, and her pussy responded by creaming. She sipped her drink, wanting to keep the buzz, but still too aroused, too disturbed, to sleep.
Looking out into space, she remembered once on the Riviera, shortly after she had met Darryl. It had been one of those evenings when he had taken her to her hotel, kissed her hand, and left her to fend for herself.
By this time, wise to his behavior, she had gone straight to the bar and found a man.
She had taken him to her room, and fucked him furiously. Then they had showered, and the man had left, leaving Rachel feeling very dissatisfied. She always felt dissatisfied after her sexual encounters, no matter how vigorous the man was, no matter how long-lasting.
Even Bill, who was as good as any man she had fucked, still left her dissatisfied.
She had called down and ordered a bottle brought to her room. She had poured herself a drink, and gone out onto the balcony.
It was summer, but the evening was cool, just as the spring night was cool tonight. She had actually fallen asleep in the chaise lounge on the balcony, and the sun had awakened her in the morning.
The sun and the sound of a male voice. She listened, startled. It was coming from very close. She looked to her right, where there was another balcony, and she could see no one. It was still early in the morning, and people, except for those indefatigable swimmers and sun bathers, were still asleep.
On her left was another balcony, but again she could see no one.
Then she heard laughter, so close that she became somewhat afraid, and she turned, facing her own room.
A sudden movement above her head caught her attention. Above her, a man was patching the slate roof of the hotel. Rachel was on the top floor. He was naked to the waist, and his tanned skin rippled and gleamed in the morning sunlight.
Her breath hissed through her teeth, as she watched his buns moving as he bent to his work. He was obviously talking to someone on the other side of the peaked roof.
Rachel felt her juices gushing hotly from her quivering pussy. As she stared at the man, wanting him as much as she had ever wanted anyone, he looked down, as if the very intensity of her stare had caught his attention.
"Bonjour," he said, with a seductive grin on his face. His eyes were dark, his hair was dark, and his face was handsome in a Latin kind of way.
Rachel melted, and smiled at him, and then continued to watch him, noting how his muscles rippled and bunched with his movements. She wondered what his cock was like, and the more she watched him, the more attention he gave her and the less he gave to his work.
Finally, he looked down at her, and he wasn't smiling.
"I'm thirsty," he said in French. "May I come to your room for water?"
"I have something better," Rachel had responded in French, which she had learned to speak fairly well.
The man slid easily down over the slates, and dropped to the balcony lightly. Rachel walked into her room, and over to the tray which the bellboy had brought the night before.
"Merci," the man said, when she had filled a glass with ice, and poured Scotch and water into it.
He drank a little bit of it, his eyes glued to Rachel's body. She stood very close to him, shivering with a growing excitement.
This was a game she was adept at playing. When the man put the drink down and did not move, but continued to stare at her, she felt a rush of blood to her head. Her cheeks flushed with desire, and her moist lips parted slightly.
The man, as adept at the game as Rachel, saw the symptoms of desire, and moved in on her, grabbing her lightly by her shoulders, and pressing his full, sensuous lips against hers.
Rachel trembled, and sagged against his sun-warm, powerful body, and then rubbed her muff against his bulging loins.
The man's kiss deepened, and his tongue insinuated itself into her mouth.
Rachel abandoned herself to the man's hot lust, as he picked her up and carried her to her unmade bed. He laid her down upon it, and then removed the robe which she had been wearing. She was naked under it.
His hands moved hotly over her fabulous tits, and she could hear his breathing getting harsh and raspy as his passion grew.
As he caressed her tits, she cupped the bulge in his work pants, feeling the way his hard, hot manhood throbbed against her sweating, Warm palm.
She felt weak with the desire which surged up in her, blotting out her sense of restraint, her reason.
Her magnificent boobs swelled with the growing heat of her lust-besotted body.
The man stood up, and undid the belt of his pants, and then dropped them. She moaned when she saw his manhood spring free of their cotton prison. He wasn't wearing any underwear.
His cock was thick and red with passion, and a drop of pre-come glistened at the tip of his piss slit.
He lay down beside her, and his mouth came down to nurse on one of her tits. Rachel felt her pussy lips swelling with passion, as the man thoroughly laved one tit, biting gently on the nipple until it was stiff, and then tongued his way to her other tit to perform the same sensual service.
Her juices gushed hotly out of her quivering cunt and trickled down her ass crack.
The man spread her legs, and she arched her hips up, gasping as she felt his work-hardened palm cupping her muff, teasing the already passion-bloated petals of pink meat until she thought she would come.
Rachel squirmed wildly on the bed with the wild riot of sexual sensations which had taken possession of her.
The man rolled on top of her ripe body, and pressed his cock head against her quivering sex slit. She bent her knees up as the man thrust inward, spreading her pussy walls wide.
She felt his cock slide into her, and she shivered as a mini-orgasm rippled through her sex flesh.
The man's breath blew moist and warm on her face, as he rammed into her, burying his prick to the hilt in her quivering, hungry twat.
The man was one of those studs who fuck wildly, and Rachel, her hunger growing by leaps and bounds, needed just that kind of fucking.
The pulsations of passionate blood which engorged the man's prick, seemed to permeate her sex flesh and reverberate through her quivering body as he started to move in her.
He pumped his prick in and out of her pussy wildly, his chest pressing her fabulous jugs flat. Her nipples stiffened even more as they were rubbed by the man's sweating, throbbing chest.
His cock pillaged her pussy, and she felt absolutely ravished by his prick, as he lunged into her with powerful strokes, his cock head rummaging deep in her creaming cunt:
She had an orgasm almost immediately, and sensing it, the man bucked into her like a rutting lion.
As the violent orgasm ripped through her cuntal flesh, she felt the man spewing his hot and heavy load into the riotous flesh of her pussy. She started to come down, disappointed that he had come so fast, but that disappointment turned into a pleasant surprise when the man emptied his balls into her.
He rolled over, bringing Rachel with him, his cock still hard and thick and buried deeply in her pussy.
Rachel bent her knees up, and felt her pussy meat mashed hard against the man's hairy loins.
Her juices were gushing in increasing quantities from her tingling twat.
This time, she raised herself partially off the man's torso, as he started to buck up into her, fully prepared to fuck her to orgasm again.
Rachel smiled softly, and panted with the passion she felt as she started to rise and fall on his prick. At first her motions were slow, sensual. This time, she wanted the passion to last. She didn't want to come so fast.
She grunted and whimpered as she felt the man's powerful prick rubbing against her itching pussy walls.
The man raised his hands, and hefted her dangling tits in them, pinching the nipples until they felt electrified with excitement.
She rose and fell on his powerful prick until she felt feverish, wild with the lust which had taken possession of her body.
His cock cut through her pussy flesh easily, lubricated by her fast flowing nectar. It oozed out of her well-stuffed hole and made a slimy pool in the man's hairy pubes.
As she moved downward on his upward-humping loins, she gyrated her hips around and around, further stimulating her pussy flesh, causing her tingling little love button to become inflamed.
It popped out of its fleshy sheath and added to the wild welter of passion which surged through the nymphomaniacal widow.
The man's hands moved from her tits, down over her belly. She felt him pulling gently at her maidenhairs, and teasing the apex of her cunt cleft where her clitoris lay exposed to the man's rough fingertip.
She winced as a wild mini-orgasm ripped through her with the suddenness and heat of a lightning bolt.
She started to move up and down on the man's prick harder and faster, going wild as his expert cock and hand worked a carnal miracle on her body.
He was bucking upward against her down-thrusting loins faster and harder, gauging his response to her excitement.
His hands moved around to the back of her hips, and she felt him kneading her rippling ass cheeks, as she bounced up and down on his prick with increasing frenzy.
Rachel felt her cuntal walls closing in around the man's prick which swelled in her pussy, increasing her pre-orgasmic pressure which threatened to make her body explode.
Grunting lasciviously, she mashed her pussy meat against his slimy-wet pubic hairs on her downward thrust, now hungry to be relieved of that pressure, to feel it exploding in her body.
She rocked her hips back and forth, and the man responded by bucking into her, driving his cock deeper and deeper into her wet and wanting womanhood.
Then Rachel started to quiver as she felt the spasms deep in her cunt. They spread outward, radially, until goose flesh formed on her smooth white skin. She started to sweat, and then panted harshly, as the hot wild tendrils of passion mounted higher, turning her brain into a seething, soggy mass of carnal impulses.
The man's powerful prick rammed into the teeming depths of her cunt over and over again, as her orgasm rushed over her wildly. She groaned, and gnashed her teeth, lost in the sweet throes of her fleshy release.
Her head snapped back as she bounded up and down wildly, and then, at the height of her passion, she felt his massive prick exploding in her pussy.
The thick hot pellets of man cream poured into her with each inward thrust, and added to the wild sweet passionate agony in which she writhed.
Rachel shivered as she started to come down. She could have fucked this man forever!
As her body sagged forward, her pussy still tingling, she heard a cry from the roof. The man's working partner was calling him.
He pulled her off his prick brusquely, and yelled out to the man.
In one moment, he was out of her bed, had his trousers on, and had walked out to the balcony. Easily, he hoisted himself up to the roof, and Rachel, lying naked on the bed, quivering with unsated lust, heard the two men talking.
She knew enough French to understand that the man was not talking about her. He explained that he had gone to get a drink of water, and then the two of them went back to work, discussing a soccer game which had" been played the day before.
But Rachel had never felt so greased for action in her life!
She got up, showered, and dressed. It was almost seven o'clock, and she had been invited for the day to a villa about fifteen miles from where she was staying.
Hot and horny, she packed a small bag with the things she would need, and left the hotel, going to the garage to pick up her car.
The garage attendant was a handsome young boy of about seventeen. At the time, Rachel was just twenty, and the boy appealed to her. He was always brushing up against her, couldn't seem to do enough for her.
The look of hunger on his face this particular morning was more than the lust-besotted Rachel could bear. It was still early, and as she opened the car door to get in, her eyes met his.
"Do you want me?" she asked.
"Yes," the boy said.
They got into the back seat of the car, and Rachel let him fuck her furiously. She came twice, and still she didn't have enough.
But she had promised to be at the villa for a late breakfast, and she was forced to stop.
By the time she got to the villa, having driven furiously, venting her sexual frustration on the car, and on the hairpin turns of the road, she was early-so early, that the mistress of the house wasn't even up.
"Perhaps you would like to go swimming," her husband suggested.
"That sounds like a good idea," Rachel replied.
Mr. Trivere was very good-looking, and Rachel had always, been attracted to him. His eyes glistened mischievously now.
"Skinny-dipping?"
Rachel's eyes flared with lust.
"Of course!" she said defiantly.
The went down to the private beach, and disrobed in one of the cabins, then ran down to the water and plunged in.
But Mr. Trivere had not plunged into the warm sea before .Rachel had seen the size of his fully-erect prick.
She had to have it!
She started out of her reverie, and wondered if she were going insane. The whole night had gone, and a faint green line, limning the tops of the distant buildings signaled that dawn had come.
And Rachel didn't feel the least bit tired.
However, she had lost the glow from the liquor. She went into the living room, poured herself another drink, and then went out again to watch the day come.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rachel was creaming as she remembered that wild, wild day. She had fucked three men within a period of twenty-four hours, and had had fourteen orgasms!
She remembered, as dawn came up the day afterward, counting them carefully. It was a record for the sexually precocious woman.
Mr. Trivere and she had swum out a way from the shore, and then tread water, chatting amiably, but Rachel knew she wanted him, and she could feel her juices flowing hotly from her naked pussy.
The warm water flowing around her naked body didn't help.
As if he could read her thoughts, or had the same thoughts, Trivere had suddenly reached over, under the water, and caressed one of her breasts.
Rachel moved toward him, and before she knew it, she was locked in his arms, feeling his thick hard rod rubbing against her swollen pussy lips, teasing her clitoris so that it popped out of its fleshy sheath.
She had never made it in the water, and the sensation was fabulous, the warm rippling water not only underscoring the sensuous movements of the two lust-besotted people, but adding a dimension of its own to their carnal excitement.
Trivere kissed her, his tongue slithering into her hot oral cavity. He raked the roof of her mouth with his tongue, and then sucked on her tongue, drawing it into his mouth.
Rachel felt weak with desire as Trivere continued to caress her tits and kiss her. She pressed her thighs together, and started to rock her hips back and forth, feeling Trivere's thick, hard prick massaging her pussy meat.
Her soft pink petals of inner sex flesh began to swell and throb with lust as she felt Trivere's rod caressing her labia.
Her clitoris started to tingle and popped out of its fleshy sheath, as the two naked swimmers rocked and undulated against each other, creating waves in the water which caressed their flesh, heightening the erotic sensations which possessed both of them.
Trivere pinched Rachel's nipples and she shivered with lusty pleasure. They were already puckered with excitement, and they tingled hotly, shooting scintillating shafts of carnal joy through her already lust-besotted body.
Trivere's hands moved from her breasts around to her back, disturbing the water which rippled and added its own caresses to Rachel's overheated body.
His hands moved down over her back, until he was cupping her firm, dimpled buns. He kneaded them sensuously, and at the same time inserted his legs between Rachel's legs, spreading them wide.
"Ohh!" Rachel gasped, feeling his cock head pressing against her creaming hole.
She bent her legs up, bracing them on either side of Trivere's body, as his cock slipped into her well-greased, hot pussy.
Bucking forward, he slid his cock into her quivering quim until he was buried to the hilt.
Rachel was beside herself with excitement.
Their movements, suspended as they were in the water, were slowly and sensual, and the very slowness, the frustration involved, added to the wild welter of passion which had taken possession of Rachel, which caused her body to seethe with excitement.
Trivere's balls were pressed against her quivering buns, the wet hairs softly caressing her sensitive ass flesh. She locked her legs around the man's waist and ground her pussy flesh against his hairy loins.
Her juices flowed copiously from her pussy, as Trivere started to move in her, pulling his prick out to the tip and then thrusting it inward. His strokes were incredibly slow, subtle, because of the liquid medium in which the two lovers were suspended.
Rachel started to rock her hips back and forth, her inward movements matching Trivere's lunges into her creaming cunt.
Her flesh crawled with the wild melange of passion which built in her body until she felt as if she couldn't stand it anymore.
As they undulated against each other, they disturbed the water around them, and the rippling sea, like a thousand subtle fingers, slid over their bodies, as they fucked each other.
Rachel's cream flowed heavily, as she felt the soft massaging passage of Trivere's prick pumping in and out of her pussy, his humping motions slow, impeded by the water.
Rachel squirmed, impaled on Trivere's prick, wallowing in the carnal frustration of teetering on the edge of orgasm. She mashed her pussy lips against his hairy loins, as he lunged inward, felt her honey flowing, mixing with the water in which they were suspended.
Her flesh crawled with the delicious sensations which suffused her body. Her heart seemed to swell in her chest and blocked her throat. Her breathing was sibilant as it hissed from her passion-constricted throat.
Her orgasm broke over her like a frothing wave, and the water around them, as she convulsed, rippled and crested, flowing over her heated flesh and enhancing the wild welter of passion which seethed through her.
Trivere kept pumping his prick into the depths of her teeming pussy. His hands kneaded her rippling ass muscles, as she writhed with the sweet spasms of her climax.
His cock, like a rutting snake, slithered into the depths of her pussy over and over again, as she writhed in the throes of her orgasm.
As her body subsided, she locked her arms and legs more tightly around Trivere's body. His cock still pumped with a delicious, maddening slowness, in and out of her quivering quim.
Insatiable, Rachel surrendered to his prick as he continued to plumb the depths of her teeming womanhood.
His cock swelled in her pussy, and the throbbing became more intense, as Rachel started to spiral upward again to another sexual frenzy. Her juices gushed hotly from her pussy, lubricating Trivere's wet prick as he lunged into her, his cock head battering the depths of her hot, dark hole.
As she started to squirm in the throes of another climax, she felt Trivere's come slit explode with a seething spray of slimy man juice.
His gism mixed with her come cream and swelled the slimy tide which oozed out of her convulsing, over-stuffed snatch, into the water.
Once again her cuntal walls closed in around Trivere's pumping prick. Her pussy felt as if it had turned into a sucking mouth, as her orgasm shot through her in lightning-like waves.
The water lapped at their overheated flesh, heightening the erotic madness which had enthralled them both.
Her clitoris felt as if it were on fire. The little love button had become inflamed with riotous sensations of its own as Trivere's hairy loins battered Rachel's pussy.
She squealed at the height of her orgasm and then stiffened momentarily. Her ears rang with the pressure of her excited blood rushing through her veins.
Trivere shot his heavy, warm load into her convulsing pussy, and then his body trembled violently.
Rachel could have fucked like this forever, but it was getting late. The sun was getting stronger, and it beat down on their sex-fevered, naked bodies.
Trivere pulled reluctantly out of Rachel, and they went back to the beach and dressed for breakfast. By the time they got to the villa, other guests were arriving, and Trivere's wife was dressed, and ready for a swim.
While the guests went swimming, Trivere and Rachel played tennis for a while. Back in the house, attacked by another wave of lust, they fucked furiously on the couch in one of the salons, before they joined the guests on the beach where the servants were cooking over two fires for their dinner.
She and Trivere fucked three more times during that long day-once in one of the cabins on the beach, and twice after dark in the water.
She didn't get back to her hotel until almost one in the morning, and still her pussy creamed with desire.
Sex was more than a narcotic to her, it was the air she breathed, the food she ate, the very blood in her body! She felt that without sex she would die or go crazy.
When she wasn't indulging in it, she was thinking about it. She pulled her car into the garage, leaving the keys with the attendant, and then went to her room.
She was restless. It was still early, as far as she was concerned, even though she had put in a very long day. All the sex she had had with Trivere had aroused her for more.
She got undressed in the dark, not bothering to turn on the lights, and took a shower. Then she lay down on her bed, naked, quivering with lust. She didn't like to sleep alone, and yet, for all the sexual partners she found, she always did, except for Frederick.
Ever since Frederick's death, she had been increasingly restless, more insatiable than ever.
A sound on her balcony startled her. She sat up in the bed, and then gasped when she saw a tall, bulky figure at the door.
Her fear was instantly allayed when the man greeted her. It was the man who had been fixing the roof that morning.
"My apologies for having left you so abruptly, madame, but duty called."
Rachel was torn between laughter and awe that the man had returned. He walked slowly over to the bed, and Rachel felt the cream pouring from her tingling twat.
The man pulled off his shirt, and then dropped his trousers. Rachel moaned and reached out to grasp his powerful, fat prick, savoring the way it pulsated against her sweating palm.
More hungry than ever, in spite of all the fucking she had done that day, she held out her arms, and the man lay on the bed beside her, taking her into his arms.
She moaned as she felt his lips crushing hers, felt his tongue slithering into her mouth.
She pressed her body against his, her arms curving around his neck. She caressed the man's powerful back, raking her fingernails over his warm, sweating flesh.
She didn't know his name, and she didn't care to. He was a stud, a man with a prick, and her hungry twat needed to be stuffed.
She sucked on his tongue as he drove it greedily, deeply into her mouth. He bit her lower lip as Rachel spread her legs wide, hungry to feel his prick plowing through the seething meadow of her lust.
"Fuck me," she gasped, grabbing his prick at its hairy base and aiming it at her hot hole.
"With pleasure, madame," the man said, his voice guttural, raspy with lust.
He crouched between her spread-apart legs, and pressed his cock head against her quivering cunt.
Too hungry to wait for his thrust, Rachel arched upward, and his cock head plopped into her tight, creaming twat. Impaled on his massive prick, she shivered with growing delight, as he slithered into her creaming hole, until his cock was buried to the hilt in her fleshy, wet nest.
The thick, wiry hairs which covered his massive balls tickled the sensitive flesh of Rachel's ass, as she squirmed against the hairy base of his cock.
Her pussy lips which had been bloated all day with passion, throbbed violently, lustfully, as the man started to move in her.
She felt the power of his passion, and she surrendered to it, forgetting her restlessness, her loneliness, as the man started to move in her.
He pumped his prick into her hot little hole with incredible strength, jarring her body as his hairy loins smashed against her sensitive pink twat meat.
Rachel moaned, and bucked upward furiously, matching him stroke for stroke, her own wild, unbound passion matching the man's sexual fury, as he reamed out her cunt.
He kept pumping into her, and Rachel squirmed lewdly under his hard-humping loins, wanting to feel him deeper and deeper in her hungry snatch.
She threw her legs up in the air, and wrapped them around his waist, moaning as she felt his cock head butting against the fleshy depths of her cunt. She mashed her pussy lips hard against his hairy loins, spreading them apart so that they were more exposed to his battering pubes as he lunged inward with increasing speed and strength.
Her cream gushed hotly from her well-stuffed snatch, and soaked his pubic hairs, making them sticky and slimy.
She moaned as she felt the throbbing of his cock intensify. His massive, powerful buttocks rippled as they rose and fell with his humping motions.
Rachel brought her hands down to his powerful buns, and caressed them, loving the hardness of them, the way his heated flesh gleamed with sweat.
Her tits swelled with passion, and her nipples became puckered. They tingled with the wild erotic excitement which surged through her.
The man grunted, as he slammed his massive prick into the depths of her voracious cunt again and again. Rachel closed her eyes, and started to whimper as she felt the fiery pin-pricks of passionate pleasure possessing her inner sex flesh.
Her cuntal walls closed in around the man's powerful prick as he pistoned in and out of her overheated cunt with increasing fury.
"Ahh!" Rachel groaned. Her head swelled. It seemed to be floating off her body, and her insides seemed to be turning inside-out as she started to come violently.
Her body writhed as if she were a mad woman under the hard-humping torso of the powerful stud who kept plunging into the depths of her teeming twat with his massive rod.
His balls slapped wetly against her humping, quivering ass cheeks, as she ground her swollen flaps of pussy flesh against his hard-driving loins.
She felt his cock lurching in her pussy, and then his prick poured forth its steaming load of gism into her convulsing cunt.
His sex sweat poured from his body, and added to the moisture with which Rachel's body gleamed, as he emptied his balls in her chaotic pussy.
But the man was far from finished with her. He fucked her all night, and Rachel came and came and came.
She felt, as the night waned, that her spine was electrified. Lightning-like flashes of pleasure surged up and down her spinal column, causing the hairs on the nape of her neck to curl.
Her flesh was covered with goose bumps, and her throat was raw from gasping through her open mouth, trying to fill her passion-spent lungs.
The man didn't leave her bed until dawn, and when he left, Rachael felt as if she had a potato stuffed in her pussy. It tingled hotly with the memory of the indefatigable stud.
She never saw him again, and she regretted the loss. The only other stud who had come anywhere near him in staying power was Bill. But there was no question of her fucking Bill anymore-at least not in her own home.
Coming again out of her reverie, she realized that it was daylight. Below her, the streets were starting to come to life.
Rachel knew she should have felt tired, but she didn't.
She missed Frederick for some strange reason that she couldn't quite fathom. She paced up and down on the terrace for a moment, wanting another drink. She restrained herself, however.
Unwilling to go into the house, too restless to go to bed, she stood out on the terrace, staring at the streets below her. People and traffic seemed to crawl like ants from her great height.
With a sigh she realized that she had loved Frederick in her way, and she bit her lower lip with regret that she hadn't recognized that fact.
Everyone always talked of love. Rachel had never talked of it, never experienced it. She certainly hadn't received it in her home. It was just one of those things she never expected for herself.
But now she realized that it was one of the reasons she was so restless all the time. There was something missing from her elegant, wealthy life, and that something was love.
She knew now that she had been happy with Frederick because the man had loved her, and she knew she had nursed him during his last illness because she had, to some extent, and without being aware of it, returned that love.
She heard a step behind her and she turned.
Darryl stood in the French window, staring at her quizzically.
"Good morning," he said, coming out and standing beside her at the railing.
"Good morning," she replied.
"You obviously didn't go to bed. Why?"
"I need a vacation, Darryl. I'd like to go to the Riviera." . '
"I'll make reservations for the both of us today."
"I'd like to go alone," she said, feeling the need to think.
"That's out of the question. We're married, and we stay together."
Rachel looked at him, annoyed.
"I take it, then," Darryl said, his voice mild, "that you don't want to take that cruise with the Chessers."
"Do you want to?"
"Yes."
"Well, why don't you take the cruise, and let me go to the Riviera alone?"
"I told you, Rachel, it's out of the question."
Thoroughly angry now, and thwarted, Rachel turned on her heel, and stormed into the house.
She went to her room, removed her dress, and lay down on her white satin bed.
Darryl was really being too, too unreasonable. Rachel smiled.
Not without her own resource, mentally as well as financially, she determined that as soon as Darryl left the house, she would get a reservation on the next plane from JFK and fly to the Riviera by herself.
She didn't need Darryl's permission to take a vacation.
The more she thought of the Riviera, the more she thought of that man who had fucked her so magnificently. Maybe she could find him again.
She was exhausted, but hadn't felt it because of the turmoil of her thoughts, and before she knew it, she had fallen sound asleep.
When she awoke, it was almost five in the afternoon.
"Damn!" she gasped, leaping out of bed, thinking of the plan she had devised just before falling asleep.
She showered, and then put on a flowing silk at-home gown. Underneath it she was wearing nothing. It always amused her to dress like that when she had dinner parties.
It had also proved to be thoroughly convenient for quickies.
Coming into the living room, she was startled to see Darryl reading in his favorite armchair.
"Didn't you go to the club today?" she asked him, annoyed with his presence. He smiled at her.
"No, I did not."
"Oh."
"Are you hungry? Shall I call cook to fix you a snack?"
"Darryl, why are you doing this to me?" she asked, finally willing to take the bull by the horns.
"Doing what, darling?"
"I don't want to be married to you anymore. I want a divorce."
Rachel had threatened divorce before, but this time she meant it. Darryl, sensing the determined tone of her voice, brought the book he was reading down to his lap and then snapped it shut decisively.
"Why?" he asked.
"Why! Darryl, you are obtuse! For a year we've been living together like brother and sister. I've been grossly unfaithful to you, and you have even caught me in flagrante delicti. And still you insist that you love me!"
"I do love you."
"I don't believe you," Rachel retorted, pacing the floor, the gown flowing gorgeously with her movements.
Darryl sighed, and got up to make cocktails.
"You were grossly unfaithful to Frederick, too, darling, but he loved you."
"He didn't know!"
Darryl laughed, and brought the cocktail to Rachel.
"He certainly did, my pet. Oh, and he was most appreciative of your discretion."
Rachel gasped.
"How do you know that?"
"Because we discussed it. You see, I fell in love with you the first moment I laid eyes on you at the yacht club, right after you had been married to Frederick.
"Frederick virtually invited me to bed you down, but I happened to have been fond of Frederick, and I made myself scarce, knowing full well that you'd go to bed with anyone-anyone at all! I wanted to remove myself from temptation."
Rachel frowned.
"I don't recall ever meeting you before you approached me on the Riviera."
"I purposefully avoided you."
"Why?"
"Because, darling, I am a man, a human being, not a stud or a humanoid dildo, and the way you used men-except Frederick whom you loved, whether you knew it or not-was outrageous!
"The only decent thing you had going for you was the fact that, unlike the other silly matrons who played around, you didn't crow about your conquests-even though you had had almost every one of their husbands!"
"I still don't understand," Rachel said. "I talk about divorce and you talk about having fallen in love with me the first time you saw me-and still you don't sleep with me!"
"Rachel, for someone as intelligent as you are, you certainly are retarded in certain areas."
Rachel walked quickly to the bar, and put her drink down.
"I refuse to discuss this any further. On Monday I shall see Mr. Tully about a divorce. I don't want any alimony. I just don't want to be married to you any more."
She started to walk out of the living room.
"Rachel."
She turned.
"Have you forgotten that the Wrights and the Hershfelds are coming to dinner tonight?"
Rachel groaned and sagged against the door frame.
She went back to her room to change again and decided to wear white satin which was her favorite. At five-thirty, the doorbell rang, and her French maid came to her room with Darryl's usual offering-two white gardenias.
Her maid put them in her hair, and Rachel again went to the living room to do her duty as a hostess.
She wasn't looking forward to it, thinking that perhaps it would be a nightmarish evening.
She also felt extremely uncomfortable with Darryl.
The Wrights arrived at seven, early as usual. The Hershfelds arrived at seven-thirty, and Rachel abandoned her painful thoughts as she proceeded to play the gracious hostess, a role in which she had become, thanks to Frederick, surpassingly skilled.
She determined, however, that before the night was over, she was going to fuck both Roger Wright, and Norman Hershfeld. She had had both of them before, but never in her own house.
The gesture was one of defiance against her husband, and her attitude was that it would serve him right!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rachel had to admit that Darryl carried off his part in the evening fabulously, but then he always did.
It actually turned out to be a pleasant time. The Dixons called down after dinner to see if the Farraguts wanted to play bridge. Rachel immediately invited them for coffee and brandy.
It was after dinner when Rachel had her chance.
Her first object was Roger Wright. Roger and she had carried on before, and she watched him staring at her. She could almost feel the heat in his loins, as his eyes raked her lovely body.
Roger and she were having a discussion about some book they had both read, and they reached a point of disagreement.
"Well," Rachel said, rising, and putting her cocktail glass down, "there's one way to settle this dispute. I have the book in the library. Come on."
Roger rose and followed her with alacrity into the elegant library. Rachel walked in first, and Roger closed and locked the door behind him as he followed her in.
He walked up to her, as she pulled the book down from the shelf, and Rachel sagged against his chest as she felt his hands on her upper arms.
"How about it, baby?" he asked, his voice low and husky with passion. He pressed his lips against her neck, and nuzzled it.
Rachel shivered, and put the book down, turning slightly in his arms.
Roger's lips met hers, and one of his hands slid into the low-cut dress, groping for her fabulous tits.
"Mmmmm!" Rachel moaned, as she felt his tongue slithering into her mouth. Roger pulled Rachel around so that she was facing him squarely, and then his hand went to the zipper in the back of her dress. He slid the dress off her exquisite, white shoulders.
It fell in a gleaming cloud of fabric at her feet.
Rachel was not wearing anything under the gown.
Roger started to remove his clothing, as Rachel sat on the couch in the library and watched.
And then her passion was jarred somewhat by the knowledge that Roger was as unscrupulous as she was, although until that moment, she had never considered herself to be unscrupulous.
Meticulous in most matters, Rachel had never considered her sexual adventures in the same moral light as she did the rest of her life apart from sex.
It was as if she had put sex in a department by itself, and she had kept that department hidden away in the back of her mind.
Watching Roger undress now, it suddenly occurred to her that her sexual life couldn't stand up to any keen scrutiny.
She frowned momentarily, and then Roger slid his jockey shorts off, revealing his powerful hard-on.
Rachel reached out and grasped his massive, fleshy pole, her pussy tingling with desire.
Her juices flowed heavily as she lay down, Roger crouching between her spread-apart legs.
"You have to be just the horniest, juiciest lady I've ever been with, babe," Roger said, as he pressed his bulbous, mushroom-shaped prick against her creaming hole.
"Ohhh, stick it in, Roger, please!" she gasped.
Roger humped inward, impaling her on his lusty spear, and his face became distorted with unbridled lust.
"Ohh," he gasped, "you're so fucking tight!"
Grunting, he lunged inward hungrily, and Rachel shivered with the hot wild sensations which gripped her belly.
She felt her juices flowing heavily around Roger's prick as he slid inward until his balls pressed against her quivering ass cheeks.
Then he lowered himself on her body, his chest flattening out her fabulous jugs.
Rachel's nipples stiffened with sexual excitement and tingled hotly, as Roger started to move in her.
Rachel's pussy walls rippled as Roger's hard, hot shaft massaged her aching, itching pussy walls.
She moaned, and closed her eyes, wondering what it would be like to fuck Darryl.
"Ohhh!" she gasped, as the fleshy friction of Roger's prick against her sensitive cuntal walls raised her temperature to a feverish pitch. She moaned, tossing her head from side to side on the couch.
Roger started to hump in and out of her furiously. He worked his arms under her trembling, sweating back and pressed her hard against his throbbing torso, as his prick wreaked a sweet devastation in her cunt.
Rachel, her eyes still closed, wrapped her legs around Roger's body, as he lunged into her teeming womanhood over and over again. Behind her tightly-closed eyelids, she was developing a vivid image of Darryl.
It was Darryl's face which hovered over hers, it was Darryl's lips that came down to cover hers, it was Darryl's prick which was reaming out her pussy.
She arched upward, humping against Roger's hard-humping loins, as he plunged into the depths of her wet and willing womanhood over and over again.
Rachel, rapidly getting hotter and hotter, had still not lost her rational processes, and it occurred to her that Roger was being a bit of a heel, fucking the wife of his host. But then, Rachel thought, she hadn't said no.
When, she thought, had she ever said no to anyone with a prick?
Her mind instantly rested on her husband during his last illness. She had stayed with him twenty-four hours a day for the brief duration of his last sickness, and she had refused everyone.
She had refused because she suddenly realized that she had loved Frederick, thought that perhaps if she nursed him, she could forestall the inevitable.
Not wanting that train of thought which had kept her up all night, she responded wildly to Roger's prick, bucking up against him so violently that she jarred his body.
Her clitoris popped out of its fleshy nest, and tingled hotly, and her juices started to flow more and more copiously from her pussy, as Roger pumped in and out of her, his own strokes getting wilder and wilder.
Rachel's unbridled sexual fury had driven him into his own frenzy, and he thrust into her with increasing strength, wanting to bury his balls in her sweet, tight, creaming cunt.
Their flesh was virtually fused together with heat and sweat, as Roger continued to hump against Rachel's writhing flesh.
Rachel raked her fingernails over Roger's back, and her heels kicked softly against his rippling buns, as he drove his prick into her like a pile-driver.
Roger was almost overwhelmed by the violence of her response.
"Oh, great, baby, fantastic!" he kept gasping, as he pistoned his prick in and out of her pussy with increasing strength. "Good, oh, good!" he gasped, against her mouth.
Rachel moaned and bit his lower lip, mashing her pussy flesh against his hard-driving loins until his pubic hairs were slimy-wet with the creamy effluence of her liquid lust.
She felt it trickling out of her well-stuffed hole, rolling in a viscid stream down her ass crack, to make a small, warm pool on the cushions of the couch beneath her humping quivering ass.
Her heart beat like a trip hammer, and she started to whimper as she felt the first throes of a violent orgasm gripping her cunt.
Her cunt seemed to turn into a hot rock, to clench in on itself, as the spasms intensified. And then she felt her pussy walls closing in around Roger's pistoning prick, virtually vacuuming the scum right out of his balls.
"Arrggh!" Roger growled, as he felt the rhythmic pressure of her climactic contractions against his sensitive, hot shaft.
He lunged into her with increasing fury, as Rachel's orgasm intensified.
At the height of her orgasm, her head snapped back against the cushions of the couch, and she opened her mouth in a silent scream of ecstasy.
At that moment, she felt Roger's prick spewing its warm, viscid load of come cream into her convulsing, chaotic cunt.
His juices mixed with hers and swelled the slimy tide which surged out of her tingling twat.
She squirmed beneath Roger's body wildly, as he emptied his balls into her. Then he shot the last of his wad, and his body collapsed on top of hers.
Rachel, in the meantime, still squirmed with the fading spasms of her climax. She opened her eyes, when she came down and experienced a shock.
She had been fucking Roger, not Darryl, and the sight of Roger's flushed, passion-contorted face spoiled her orgasm.
She smiled at him, and pushed him off her.
"Don't want another go?" he asked. Roger knew her well, and knew that once wasn't enough.
"I'd love it," she laughed, hastily stepping into her white satin gown, which Roger zipped up for her, not without taking a nip at her creamy shoulder. "But there are guests in the living room who are going to wonder where we are."
"I never thought you gave a damn," Roger said, hastily dressing himself.
"Perhaps I didn't, once. But I do now."
Rachel was on her best behavior for the rest of the party. Everyone was having a good time, so they stayed late.
Once again, Rachel was quiet-gracious, but somewhat reserved. The Hershfelds left last-as usual, promising to return the favor and complimenting the host and hostess on a lovely evening.
Rachel sat on the white satin couch, and pursed her lips. She was sipping a cocktail, and her eyes were glued to the terrace again, as she remained lost in thought.
Darryl was cheerfully pouring himself a nightcap.
"Why didn't you fuck Norman, Rachel?" Darryl wanted to know.
Rachel looked at him, and for once, wasn't surprised at his knowledge or the question. Darryl was not cut in a common mold, and somehow in the last day or two, she had accepted the fact that Darryl knew when she was doing what.
"Why did you come home early yesterday?" she asked, countering his question with one of her own.
"Just to see if I could shake you up. I did, you know."
"Well, what did it prove?"
"Nothing, I suppose."
"What did you want to prove?"
"That I loved you."
"By walking in on something you knew was happening? You don't make sense!"
"No," Darryl retorted, his voice slightly raised with anger, which surprised Rachel, "you don't make sense! I really would like to know why you didn't fuck Norman. You usually do when he's around."
Rachel sighed. She couldn't understand why she found it so difficult to tell him the truth.
"Because," she finally said, "I decided that Roger was a bit of a cad for making a pass at me, and I was a worse cad for taking him up on it."
Darryl laughed.
"Really!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, really!" Rachel retorted, becoming defensively angry. She rose and went to the bar to have another drink. She wasn't drunk, but if she kept a buzz, her thoughts didn't rankle so much.
"How did you know I loved Frederick?"
"It was obvious-to everyone but you, I think."
"Well, that's true," Rachel said, grinning. She leaned on the bar her chin in her hands, and stared at Darryl.
"When did you discover it?" Darryl asked her.
"Yesterday. I didn't want him to die."
"What is your problem with love?" Darryl asked.
"I don't know. I never had it, and I guess I never expected to have it. You know the way I was brought up-what my family was like."
"Do you wish to discuss that divorce?"
"No," Rachel said. "I just want to do it, get it over with."
"I don't want to divorce you, and I'll fight it."
"What?" Rachel exclaimed, standing up and walking swiftly around the bar. "Why?" she demanded, standing over Darryl, glaring down at him.
"You are stubborn. I've already told you I love you."
"Darryl, I refuse to sleep alone any more."
"Sex isn't love."
"I know it!"
Darryl laughed, long and loud, his head thrown back.
"Amazing!" he finally replied, when he had calmed down. He had laughed so hard that there were tears rolling down his cheeks. "When, may I ask, did you discover that?"
"When I discovered I loved Frederick! When else?" Rachel said, reverting to the street jargon and gestures of her childhood.
"Frederick said you were a dear, sweet woman. He also told me that if you could get over that blind spot, you'd make someone a wonderful wife."
"Is that why you never slept with me?"
"Yes. I thought if you got desperate enough, or if you ever acquired confidence that I did love you, that you'd stop sleeping around. I don't care about modern social mores, Rachel. I refuse to live with a woman who's being unfaithful to me. As long as I didn't sleep with you, the marriage was basically not valid. That was the only way I could live with your nymphomania, as you so blithely call it."
"Well, it's true. I am a nymphomaniac!"
"Twaddle!"
As far as Rachel was concerned, they had reached an impasse. She felt frustrated, and horny. She had passed up the chance to fuck Norman, and her pussy was creaming heavily.
"Do you know what I was thinking when I was fucking Roger?" she asked.
"No."
"I was thinking it was you."
"Well, if you would stop being so foolish, it probably could be."
"Your premise is ridiculous," ' Rachel retorted. "I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't! What do you expect me to do while you're deciding I might make you a good wife?"
"Exactly what I've done for a year," Darryl retorted.
It was Rachel's turn to laugh, and at the same time her curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to fuck Darryl wanted to fuck him very much.
If she didn't love him, she could always divorce him later, but she wasn't sure that she didn't love him.
"For a whole year?" she asked.
"No!"
"For how long?"
"For as long as it takes me to be sure you will be faithful, that you are sure you love me."
"Well, I'm not sure of that."
"I know you're not. Why did you marry me?"
"I wanted to fuck you, and you didn't seem to want me any other way."
"Oh, I wanted you all right, but I want you my way."
"You're a tough man, Darryl-tougher than me."
Rachel put the drink down on the bar, and walked toward the door. "Where are you going."
"To bed."
"Are you going to Mr. Tully on Monday?"
Rachel gave her husband a good long stare, didn't answer, and left the room. She wasn't sure if she were or not.
She had a restless, feverish night. She frigged herself until she felt almost blind with lust.
In the morning, she was furious with Darryl, and she didn't appear at breakfast. Instead, she got dressed and went to her own gym.
She hadn't gone there for quite some time, but she more than made up for it that morning. She worked out furiously.
Darryl and she were supposed to go to the theater that evening, but Rachel had a furious quarrel with him just before they left. She sat down on the couch in the living room, and refused to go.
"Very well, then," Darryl said, with maddening patience, "we'll stay home and have a quiet evening together."
"Go to the theater, Darryl!" she barked at him, more furious with him for scant cause than she had ever been with anyone in her life.
Darryl hesitated for a moment, nodded gravely, and left.
Absolutely beside herself with her anger, which she couldn't understand and didn't want to, she went to her bedroom, packed a bag, and left.
She went to a cheap hotel in the Times Square area, and then walked to a bar.
In half an hour, she had picked up a man-a truck driver.
She took hin. to her room, and made no pretense about nightcaps.
"Fuck me," she said, as soon as the door was closed.
The man pulled her hard against his chest. His lips came down and covered her mouth, and he rammed his tongue into her hot oral cavity.
Rachel felt more aroused than she had ever been in her life.
Damn her husband and his demands. Rachel needed to be fucked, with or without love, and she was going to have what she wanted!
In a frenzy of passion wilder than anything she had known, she pulled off her clothes.
The truck driver was aroused even more at Rachel's obvious wildness. He, too, stripped, and then fell on the bed, where Rachel was reclining, squirming hotly.
He threw her legs over his shoulder, and pressed his drooling cock head against her itching tunnel of love, and shoved his massive prick into her wet and wanting womanhood.
She felt his cock spreading the walls of her pussy wide. She groaned, and writhed around on his huge manly rod, as he started to move in her, drawing his prick out to the tip and then slamming inward again.
He fucked her roughly, which was just the way she wanted it.
Rachel could no more have explained her wild rage against Darryl than she could have explained why she went to a Times Square hotel. There was no dearth of money in her life.
But she felt like a whore, and she wanted to be fucked like a whore. The truck driver obliged.
As he slammed into her over and over again, Rachel caressed her passion-bloated tits. She wanted to forget, wanted to lose herself in the one hot pleasure which had always been a temporary island of escape.
She pressed her thighs against the man's neck, as he lunged into her, the power of his impact jarring her body.
His hairy loins slammed into her swollen pussy lips over and over again, as he drove his prick into her teeming depths.
She felt her itching pussy walls quivering with an incipient orgasm and she started to gasp. Her flesh crawled with the wild sexy sensations which coursed through her, as the truck driver stuffed her quivering snatch with his thick meat again and again.
Even more than the man on the Riviera, this man was evoking a passion in Rachel that exceeded all her own sense of normalcy.
"Oh, fuck me!" she shrieked, as she squirmed against his hairy loins, his massive prick wreaking a hot devastation in her cunt.
She felt her orgasmic spasms starting deep in her cunt. Her pussy walls closed in around the man's thick rod, as he pierced through her womanhood again and again.
She let out a loud cry as she felt the spasms intensify. At the height of her orgasm, the truck driver's prick spewed its hot and heavy load into her quivering pussy.
He grunted as he emptied his balls into her quivering, convulsing cunt, and then his body collapsed on top of hers.
She asked him to stay, but he had to pick up a truck which was being loaded, and take it to Minnesota.
Not at all satisfied, Rachel left shortly after the truck driver left, went to a different bar, and picked up another man.
This one fucked her doggie-style, and brought her to a screaming orgasm.
But the second man was not enough. With her heart hammering in her breast, she walked the streets again, and picked up another man in one of the theater bars.
He was into ass-fucking, and that was fine with Rachel, who abandoned herself to his wild bungholing, as if he were killing her. Rachel felt as if her desire were killing her.
The third man stayed all night. She sucked off his prick, and let him eat her out. Then he fucked her cunt, before he became exhausted and fell asleep.
At that point, Rachel was quite content to fall asleep, too. When she woke up, the man was still asleep.
She sucked his prick until it was hard again, and he woke up just as she was pushing down on his prick, sitting on it, her thighs straddling his hips.
"Boy, you are some hot dame!" he grunted.
He fucked her to climax, and then left. Before he departed, he left, he gave her his phone number, and invited her out the following Friday night.
Rachel accepted.
Sunday was a blur for Rachel. She picked up four men during the day, and then two that evening. The first one fucked her twice, the second man quit after-he had spent his load.
Sunday is a quiet night in New York, and by the time the second man had left, the bars were closed.
Rachel frigged herself to sleep. She woke up at noon on Monday with a headache.
She checked out of the hotel, and then went to the Plaza and got a suite. Having bathed and changed her clothes, she called the family solicitor, Mr. Tully, making an appointment for late Monday afternoon.
Rachel was far from satisfied, but the method of picking up men in the more exclusive section of town was a little more time-consuming.
She finally found one in a small cocktail lounge. He was in town on a convention, and he was lonely.
Rachel invited him up to the hotel suite, and within moments, they were locked hotly in each other's arms.
Rachel writhed wildly as she started to come. The man's prick sawed in and out of her snatch furiously. Rachel's basic sexual wildness was driving the man wild.
Rachel didn't care if she spent the rest of her life naked, stewing in her own sexual juices, flat on her back, as long as she had a cock in her cunt.
When the man had Finally shot his load, Rachel had come twice, and the only reason she was willing to part company with the man, at least temporarily, was her appointment with Mr. Tully.
Still lying on top of her, his cock embedded in her pussy, the man asked if he could see her later.
"Sure," she said, kissing him. "Meet you for dinner?" he asked.
"Sure."
She gasped, when she heard the key turn in the lock, and as her head reared up off the pillow, the door was flung open.
Darryl stood there, staring at his wife.
This time, he was not casual, as he strode toward the bed, and pulled the man off his wife.
He was livid with rage!
CHAPTER NINE
"Who-who the hell are you?" the man yelped, as he felt himself hurtling to the floor.
"The lady's husband. Get the hell out!" Darryl barked.
Hastily, the man got into his clothes and rushed out of the hotel room. Darryl strode to the door, slammed it shut and locked it, and then stalked back to his wife, who was sitting up on the side of the bed.
She was awed. In all the time she had known him, she had never seen him losq his temper. When he got angry, it was always controlled.
He stood in front of her, and slapped her face-hard!
Rachel's head snapped to one side, and she saw stars from the force of the blow.
"You don't have the sense you were born with," Darryl snarled.
"Neither do you!" Rachel screamed, rearing up from the bed, and standing in front of him. She pushed him hard, and he staggered backward.
Darryl grabbed her as she started to run toward the bathroom.
"Where do you think you're going?" he bellowed.
"To Mr. Tully's office."
"No, you're not!"
"Oh, yes I am!" Rachel hissed, more determined than ever to get out of Darryl's life. She didn't even want him any more. She didn't care about his cock.
Darryl threw her down on the bed, and Rachel rolled over and got out on the other side. She picked up a vase of flowers from the night table, and hurled them at Darryl.
Darryl ducked, and then leaped onto the bed, swinging himself out on the other side, as
Rachel tried to run around the foot of the bed.
If she could get to the bathroom, she could lock the door, and he wouldn't be able to get in-unless he wanted to beat the door down.
She wasn't so sure that he wouldn't, given his present disposition. She was still awed at his towering rage.
When Darryl grabbed her again, she grabbed his shirt, and ripped it. She tried to bring her knee up into his groin, but Darryl again threw her onto the bed, and this time he threw himself on top of her.
"You're my wife, and you're going to stay my wife!" he said, trying to grab her wrists, as she pummeled him. She raked her fingernails over his back, and tried to push him off, but Darryl was stronger than she Wiw.
With one hand he managed finally to grip both her wrists, and pin her arms over her head, pressing them against the pillows.
With his other hand, he started to take his own clothes off.
"You stop it, Darryl, stop it!" she shrieked.
"No, I won't! You keep still!"
"I don't want you," she cried, struggling wildly.
"You're full of shit!" Darryl snarled. By now, he had managed, Rachel's struggles notwithstanding, to get off his shirt and jacket.
He slipped partially off her body, and threw one leg over her kicking legs, pinning them to the bed, as he released her wrists to undo his trousers.
Rachel reared up and belted him in the jaw.
Darryl responded in kind, and Rachel slammed back into the mattress, stunned by the blow.
She remained immobilized just long enough for Darryl to remove his trousers, and his jockey shorts, and to lie once again on Rachel's ripe, lush body.
Rachel moaned, and tried to struggle. Her jaw hurt, and she had a lump in her throat, as Darryl's mouth came down and roughly covered hers.
She moved her face sharply to one side, breaking the kiss, as Darryl again grabbed her wrists, pinning her arms over her head.
Darryl's mouth slid down to her neck, and he bit her hard, and then sucked, leaving behind a very obvious purple hickey.
Rachel struggled furiously, as Darryl made his mark on her.
"I don't believe you!" she shrieked.
"You haven't yet. So what's the difference?" he growled, as he pressed one knee forcefully between her tightly closed legs, spreading them. , The bed shook with Rachel's struggles, as she tried to avoid the penetration which Darryl obviously intended. She was so intent on resisting Darryl that she didn't even see his cock, but she felt his thick cock head now, pressed against her quivering hole.
Still greased from her sex session with the stranger, his cock head, when he thrust, plopped easily into her cunt.
"Ahh!" she cried, as she felt his huge manly pole slithering through her tight, creaming tunnel of love. The cry was not so much pleasure, as pure frustration.
For all the time she had known Darryl, she had wanted him. For the entire year of their marriage, she had wanted Darryl, and slept alone in some mockery of a marriage, and now, when she didn't want him at all-didn't even want to see his face-he was raping her.
"This is rape!" she said.
"That's right!" Darryl snarled, as he buried his prick balls-deep in her wet, warm womanhood. "And that's probably the only distinction between me and every other male you've ever slept with!
"For them you put out willingly, but I took you by force!"
His smooth, throbbing chest, pressed hard against her breasts, flattening them out, causing them to throb with a pleasant pressure.
Rachel resisted the pleasure, but she was not proof against Darryl's wild fucking as he started to move in her.
Once again, Darryl pressed his lips to Rachel's and she felt his tongue slithering into her hot oral cavity as she tried to pull her lips away from him. When she broke the kiss again, Darryl bit her lower Up hard, and Rachel was forced to submit before Darryl's straight, strong teeth broke her skin, and she had no doubt that he would break the skin in order to subdue her.
Her juices, in spite of her struggling, started to flow heavily, as Darryl moved in her, his cock wreaking a wild havoc in the depths of her teeming twat.
She kept her body stiff, but the heated waves of pleasure built and built until Rachel's head was spinning. She felt as if she were spinning right off the face of a crazily tiltling universe, as Darryl thrust into her steadily, his massive manhood massaging the aching, itching walls of her cunt.
Rachel started to cry as she felt her body respond, felt her heart swelling in her chest, pounding crazily against her rib cage.
Against her right tit, she felt the wild pulsations of Darryl's heart as he reamed out her pussy like a wild animal.
Her toes curled under, and she felt her sex sweat starting to pour from her trembling, still stiff body, as Darryl's prick slammed into her, his cock head butting against the fleshy depths of her cave of lust.
Her cuntal walls tingled with the battering of Darryl's prick as he took violent possession of his wife.
His powerful prick ripped through her tight, creaming pussy walls, and Rachel started to relax, unable to withstand the wild pulsating passion which surged through her.
Her nipples puckered hotly from the rubbing motion of Darryl's chest, as his ass cheeks rose and fell with his powerful humping motions.
She started to buck her hips upward, moaning against his mouth which still covered hers.
She felt the heat from his body permeating her heated flesh, raising her temperature to a feverish pitch, as Darryl plugged her twat over and over again. His sex sweat poured onto her moist flesh, and his cock, as her juices started to flow more and more heavily, made wet sucking noises, as he plunged into the depths of her pussy again and again.
Her sex flesh bloated thickly and pouted from between her plump white outer lips as Darryl's hairy loins battered the delicate pink flaps of skin.
Her clitoris popped out of its fleshy sheath and sent lightning-like shards of pleasure coursing through her, piercing her entrails, and seeming to bloat her whole body.
The fever built in Rachel's pussy, as Darryl continued to ream out her cunt with a fury she had never experienced before.
His hairy loins became wet and matted with the thick nectar of her desire, and his throbbing shaft rubbed against the rippling walls of her tunnel of love, driving her wild with a passion she hadn't wanted to feel.
The pressure in her body intensified until Rachel thought she was going to explode, and she started to whimper. Her breath mixed hotly with Darryl's as he continued to pump his prick into the depths of her pussy, and without wanting it, she felt the first spasms of her orgasm gripping her cunt.
Her pussy clenched in on itself with a sweet agony that Rachel had never experienced before. The convulsions intensified in strength, until her hips surged upward without her willing them to, as she writhed under Darryl's hard-humping body.
Darryl broke the kiss, and groaned, bringing his mouth down to where he had bitten her neck. He bit it again, and this time the sting inflamed Rachel even more.
She started to cry as her body was buffeted with the heated, demanding, convulsive waves of passionate bliss which took possession of her body.
Every fiber of her flesh seemed to scream in voluptuous agony, as Darryl's wand of lust struck sparks of fiery ecstasy through her.
Darryl's prick lurched in her cunt, and got hotter, and the erotic conflagration which was wracking Rachel's body threatened to annihilate her senses.
Her mind short-circuited as her orgasm peaked. Her body stiffened, quivering, under Darryl's sweating, writhing flesh, and she screamed as the powerful orgasmic release shook her to the core of her being.
Then she writhed madly under him, as Darryl's come slit exploded with a thick warm load of manly cream.
She felt his gism pouring into her convulsing cunt, adding to the sweet, sticky chaos which had gripped her. His juices swelled the slimy tide which poured from her stuffed snatch, and widened the growing pool beneath her quivering, humping ass cheeks.
Her orgasm was violent and prolonged. She ground her muff lasciviously, wantonly, against Darryl's wet pubic hairs as he emptied his balls into his wife's cunt.
With a final, almost brutal thrust, Darryl shot the last of his wad into his wife's quivering pussy, and his body relaxed.
"Rachel lay sobbing beneath him as he strove to fill his passion-spent lungs with air. She felt weak and wet and warm, and the tears streamed down her face-tears she could not explain any more than she could have explained the towering rage that made her leave her home.
"You let me go," she sobbed, when he finally raised his head to gaze at her flushed and beautiful face.
Darryl's cock was still lodged tightly in her pussy, throbbing powerfully, and still erect.
"Never," he said.
His lips worked softly over her tear-stained cheeks. He kissed the tears from her soft skin, and then traced the soft curve of her lips.
"I don't love you. Darryl. I want to leave."
"You do love me."
"No!"
Rachel struggled against him again, and felt his cock lurch in her pussy. Once again, she was enthralled by the hot desire which welled up in her. It was so strong it was like a pain which gripped her, leaving her no peace.
"Tell me you love me,"
"I don't love you," she said, averting her face from his keen gaze.
"Tell me you love me!" he said, his grip on her wrists tightening.
"You can't force me to!"
"Why not?" Darryl said, his features brightening somewhat with that slightly cynical smile he had. "I do have the distinction of having raped you. I might just as well have the distinction of forcing you to admit you love someone."
"You're horrible!"
Darryl laughed, and started to move in her again, his thick, long prick moving softly, almost like fluid, in and out of her cunt.
Rachel felt as if her entire body were centered on his prick, felt as if his prick were like a magnet, pulling all her internal organs into her cunt, as he pulled his cock out to the tip and then thrust it inward again.
"I don't want to fuck you!" Rachel gasped, feeling the last of her defenses fading away.
Darryl moaned, and kissed her, and Rachel responded. She closed her eyes. Behind her lids, bright flashes of light went off, and seemed to seep through her lust-besotted body.
Darryl released her hands and in spite of herself, Rachel curled them around Darryl's sweating neck and caressed his back as she responded to his fucking.
This time he was not so rough, but he fucked her for what felt like an eternity. Once again Rachel had the strange feeling that she was spinning off the bed, and she was grateful for Darryl's weight, pinning her to the mattress.
Darryl was by no means finished with her when she had come a second time. He fucked her all night in that hotel room, until Rachel begged him to stop.
"What?" he asked, looking at her with a mocking smile.
"Just stop! I'm hungry and I want to go to sleep."
"You're not sleeping here," Darryl said, as he started to fuck her again. "I waited for a whole year for this, and I'm not ready to quit.
Her pussy was burning from the fleshy abrasion of Darryl's cock when he finally relented, close to noon on the following day.
He pulled out of her, and then carried her into the shower, where they bathed together.
Rachel had subsided into a somewhat sullen silence.
Darryl had his shirt mended, and they got dressed, and left the hotel. Darryl ferried her to a cab, his hand very firmly gripping her elbow, and they arrived home at about one.
"Now do you mind if I eat? I'm starved."
"No! I want to fuck you again," Darryl declared.
"No!" Rachel rushed toward the kitchen, hell-bent on getting something to eat, but Darryl grabbed her, carried her up to her bedroom, and fucked her again wildly.
Rachel almost passed out from the fury of the orgasm which shot through her body, as Darryl emptied his wad into her cunt.
In her whole life of sexual activity, she had never been fucked in so many different ways, so hard, and so persistently, and so frequently by one man!
Darryl was more than a match for her sexual hunger.
But she became curious. As she lay beneath Darryl's body, running her fingers through his hair, she looked at his face.
His eyes were closed. He could have been asleep, but Rachel didn't seem to think so.
"How did you know where I was?"
"I called Tully and told him to tell me where you were when you called."
"You're a bastard!" Rachel said, laughing in spite of herself.
Darryl leaned up on one elbow, and looked at Rachel, his other hand tracing the curved, ripe mound of her tit.
"But a loving one. Tell me you love me."
Rachel sighed.
"I don't know if I do."
"Yes, you do. You wouldn't have run away if you hadn't known."
Rachel looked at him, and pressed her face against his shoulder.
"All right, I do!"
Darryl laughed and fucked her again, and then allowed her to have something to eat.
"We're supposed to have dinner with the Forbishers this evening," Darryl said. "You're going to ruin your appetite."
"Hardly," Rachel said, wolfing a steak which she insisted the cook make. "After what I've been through, half a cow wouldn't be enough!"
Darryl laughed.
"Would you like to go to the Riviera?" he asked her while they were dressing.
"Do I have to sleep alone?"
"You will never sleep alone again for as long as you live-unless I die first," Darryl exclaimed.
Rachel gasped and turned to Darryl, with some degree of fear in her eyes..
"Don't say that!" she gasped.
Darryl pulled her against his body, and Rachel rubbed her muff against his bulging loins.
"It's a fact of life, and one of the facts of loving that has to be faced. It should be easier for you. You've already been through it," he said, kissing her forehead.
"I'd rather not." ? "Oh, really, Rachel. Don't be childish."
Rachel pulled away from him, and finished putting on her make-up in the mirror. "Yes, dear," she said, softly.
