The sun was a brassy ingot in the pewter-colored evening sky, and the winds which normally rose later in the year, toward autumn, now whispered a warning through the early August greenery. A storm was brewing, one of those sultry, drenching blusters which cooled mind and body from the angry, blazing heat.
But the storm was due to hit Marylehurst tomorrow morning, if the weather reports were to be believed. Most of the residents of this middle-class suburban center were still wearing the least amount of clothing permissible. In the new shopping center mall and along the brick-lined streets of the "Old Town" section, mothers and daughters shopped in the briefest of short-shorts and halters, while their husbands and fathers lounged around the community pools in the tightest of swim trunks, ogling the lovely young girls in their colorful bikinis. Tomorrow the storm would come, but tomorrow was another day ... and in the meantime, the slight zephyr was refreshing against their bare flesh.
On the cul-de-sac called Honey berry Circle, hidden from the vulgarities of the shops and crowds, and part of a quiet, respectable residential neighborhood, nestled a duplex home. It had been skillfully designed, and was difficult to spot as being occupied by two separate families instead of one, appearing much as the others did Spanish in motif, with white walls, red pantile roof, and a patio out to one side and stretching around back. The dual-port garage was in between to act as a buffer, and in the rear, a tall, thick hedge served as a dividing line, guaranteeing a maximum of privacy for both the tenants.
The backyard of the right-hand "house" had been contoured to form a secluded area like a small grotto, using a natural roll in the terrain plus the addition of trees and shrubs. In this crescent-like area was its portion of the patio, which contained a set of redwood lawn furniture two benches, a plank table with a barber-striped beach umbrella above it, and a lounge chair covered with a foam-rubber mattress. The umbrella was folded up now, its tip catching the last crimson rays of the sun sinking now into the west.
Stretched out in the lounge chair was a tall, brunette woman wearing a brilliant yellow bikini. She was bronzed with daily sunning over the past two months, no whiteness showing on her smooth taut stomach and fine slender legs, or on the plentiful amount of nakedly firm breast which protruded from the thin covering. The bottom section of her bikini outlined the tight, slightly prominent pubic mound, revealed the swell of her full rich thighs, and then tucked into the crevice between her globular buttocks, leaving the brown curve of her hips almost entirely naked. Sally Carstairs was a wife any man would have been proud to call his own.
In spite of having passed her twenty-first birthday, Sally's breasts were those of a young adolescent's high tapered cones, proud and erect and unlike too many young women even of her age, no rolls of pudgy fat marred her belly or lower abdomen. Her face was sensuous with a small nose and ripe bee-stung lips, and large, flirtatiously round eyes. There was nothing outwardly aloof or shy about Sally Carstairs; she was pure sensuality on the surface, attractive to men of all ages ever since puberty, and often much to her embarrassment. Her mother had warned her about sex all during her formative years, instilling in her the warped fallacy that all men were nasty and brutish, and the result had left its sad mark upon Sally, rooted deeply in her subconscious.
Compounding her troubles, her marriage to Stan Carstairs a year-and-a-half ago had only underscored her mother's teachings. Her marital night had been one of stark terror for her, as it was the first time she'd seen a man's penis. Unlike the small non-violent appearing organs she had seen on younger boys when she'd baby-sat during high school, the turgid, blood-filled shaft which had stuck out menacingly from Stan's muscled loins had made her cower under the covers and whimper with abject fear.
Stan had taken her with unfeeling harshness that night, as he had on every other subsequent occasion he'd had the urge to use her naive young body. He had been the beast her mother had warned her a man would be, pummeling and bruising her with a vengeance. How could she how could any woman respond with tenderness and affection when all the man was interested in was bam-bam-thank-you-ma'am? And now, barely through the newlywed period, Stan had little time for her, devoting his love on his souped-up cars which he and his sloppy, beer-guzzling pals would race at the local drag strip on weekends. The rest of Stan's time was spent at work, driving a milk truck for Kingsford Dairies. Sally had become little more than a doll for him to abuse whenever he had his all-too-frequent sexual rages. She wasn't a wife she was like a whore who cooked and kept house. But though resentful, Sally had no intention of trying to "get back" at her husband to deny him his conubial rights, or worse, to be unfaithful. That wasn't her way; moreover, she felt partially to blame for being in this predicament, having pressured Stan into marrying her as a means of escaping her mother's gloomy home. She loved Stan, though. She wanted to be his wife, a good wife ... but there was no use avoiding the truth: She'd jumped from the frying pan into the fire. Short of divorce, she was stuck with her own self-made lot, and she had no more intention of divorcing her husband than she had of sleeping around on him.
And the less said about sleeping with him the better, Sally thought ruefully, while she sipped a glass of vin rose and sighed along with the dulling summer evening. Just a few hours previously, Stan had raped her. Yes, raped her and rape it had been, even though she was his wife. Dear God, why couldn't he treat her as a partner, as a person in her own right, respecting her and being interested in something more than a mere physical relationship?
She gazed down at her still aching body, finishing the glass of wine while smoothing her other hand along her bruised inner thighs.
Brushing away the beginnings of a tear, she refilled her glass from the gallon wine jug beside the chaise lounge, leaning back and glancing guiltily at the nearby hedge which separated the two sections of the duplex house. With all the shouting and uproar she and Stan had made, had Jake and Marge overheard them and pieced together what had happened? Oh, that'd be too embarrassing for words! It was difficult enough as it was, having her own in-laws living next door, Jake being Stan's older brother and owner of the duplex. Jake was a husky raucous braggart, always ready with some double-meaning wisecrack because he knew how foul language upset her, and always there with a pawing hand or a beady wink when Stan wasn't around to see. As far as Sally was concerned, Stan's brother was hardly any better than those crude, leering car pit buddies Stan hung around with. And for that matter, Jake's wife Marge was a peroxided floozie almost as vulgar as her husband! Between the two of them, Sally was sure she'd never be able to live down the ignominy of that horrid afternoon. Just the memory of it now caused her to flush with shame and anguish. It had started out so peaceably, without any forewarning, like the calm before the storm ...
Sally had been busy all day with housework, and hadn't been paying a great deal of attention to what Stan had been doing. This being Saturday, he was off duty, spending most of the morning and the early part of the afternoon in the garage, tinkering with his race car a '55 Chevy hardtop, stripped of all comforts and powered by some monster engine that required the hood to have a huge scoop built into it. Sally knew very little about cars and cared less, although she seemed to remember from high school that a "stock" car was one that was like the way cars came from the factory. How a car as modified as Stan's pet baby could be called "stock" and be raced as such, was simply beyond her comprehension, but it was and Stan did, although he never won. Other than that, all Sally knew was that the engine had eight of something.
Her mind was firmly on the laundry. She was only vaguely aware of when Stan came back into the house and began cleaning up. Innocently she continued her chores, dressed in a demure blouse and a pair of well-fitting but not too tight shorts. She picked up a large wicker basket from the alcove by the kitchen door, loaded it with clothes from the dryer, then began carrying it through the house toward the bedroom at the other end.
By this time, Stan had showered and was in clean blue jeans and a white tee-shirt, flopped with his shoes on the sofa in the living room. Passing, Sally glanced at her husband, noting as often she did, how handsome and virile he looked. At twenty-three precisely midway between Sally's twenty-one and his brother's twenty-five, Stan was a good six feet tall, his long ink-black hair neatly trimmed at neck length. He was almost as deeply tanned as she, enjoying the outdoors and various sports, and was still as muscular as when she'd first met him, as a senior in high school. His chest, arms, and legs were well-developed, and by the way his tight jeans stretched across his lean young groin, it was blatantly apparent that he was as equally well-endowed with male organs.
If it hadn't been for his feet on the furniture, Sally would never have paused to say anything. But the furniture was important to her; it had to be preserved, because she wasn't going to get any new stuff, not while Stan's race car and tavern-hopping friends took up not only most of his time, but his money too.
Sally hesitated, opening her mouth to ask him to take his shoes off ... and then she closed her mouth, pursing her lips as she comprehended the rest of the scene. Stan was lazily flopping there drinking a beer his third, if the bottles on the coffee table could be trusted and was thumbing through a current copy of Aphrodite, one of those glossy men's magazines that cynically capitalized on the fantasies of otherwise normal people. She had been shocked the first time she'd found a copy which Stan had left lying around, finding the cartoons and humor section on the same smutty level as Jake's off-color jokes, and scandalized by the full-color photographs of young women with their legs wide apart, their vaginal hair spread and showing their moist pink inner flesh, with one finger occasionally posed in a masterbatory caress along the sensitive exposed lips. She couldn't believe that her husband would stoop so low as to be attracted to such lewd filth, but he was ... And by the way he was holding the magazine sideways now and was ogling the open centerfold, it was painfully obvious that he still got some sort of kinky thrill out of the venal exploitation of naked women.
"Stanley Carstairs!" she blurted sternly, dropping the laundry basket and glaring at him. "How can you!? "
He glanced up at her. "Hi, hon," he said, as if he hadn't heard her. His face was remarkably smooth and boyish with a Romaesque nose and thin mouth, which was now softly curled in a smile, his eyes smoldering with some hidden amusement. Casually, he flipped close the centerfold and turned the page. "Is lunch about ready? I'm starved."
"You put that magazine down!"
"What?"
"I'll burn it! I'll ... I'll ... " she spluttered, not quite sure what she'd do other than somehow get rid of it and any of its brother publications she might find.
"What, this?" Stan waved the magazine at her. "You mean you're popping your wad over this, Honey, it's nothing to get upset about. Pussy mags are pretty tame, these days. And sex is what makes the world go round, or haven't you heard?"
"Tame!" Sally retorted, shaking her head. "I'm not dumb, I know a lot of things are going on a great deal worse than pictures of naked girls. But that still doesn't excuse it! It's still disgusting, and I don't want that trash in my house!"
"Your house! It's my house I pay the rent here."
"And get your feet off the furniture!"
"Sally, you're being ridiculous. Besides, I only buy it for the movie reviews and good fiction."
"And what movie is being reviewed in that centerfold?"
"As it so happens, the girl in it is going to be in a film, and "
"One of those X-rated whore films, I bet."
"She's a Phi Beta Kapa from UCLA, according to the article on her, and is planning to be a physicist after she does this film about hungry orphans in Bangladesh."
"Well, there's your fiction for you!"
"Of all the " Stan growled, swinging his feet around and standing up, slamming the magazine onto the table. "Stop being such a holy prude, Sally. It just might do you a little good to leaf through a few copies and see how the other half humps."
"Stan, your language!" she reproved, and then seeing him snatch up the beer bottle and guzzle it down, she added: "And don't you think you've had enough to drink already?"
Stan seemed to quiver, as if preparing to erupt. "No!" he shouted at her, defiantly glowering. "No, I don't think I've had enough to drink! I haven't had enough of anything." He deliberately tilted the bottle and drained it in front of her. The beer went directly from his empty stomach to his head, and he wavered slightly, banging his shin against the coffee table and cursing as he winced.
"What do you mean, by not enough of anything?"
"Nothing," Stan muttered through clenched teeth. What he meant was simple: He hadn't had enough good raunchy fucking from her, not ever, but to tell her so would only set her off like a skyrocket. There'd be horrified moans and indignant wails, and he'd be in for a tongue-lashing sermon sure as hell, so what was the use of saying anything? He wasn't in any mood for that now. Christ, he'd drunk enough beer while working and reading to piss till next Tuesday, and he certainly wasn't in any condition to put up with a tirade or argue rationally with her.
All he wanted was to relax and not be nagged, just to be left alone for awhile. God knew she usually left him alone, especially in bed at night. It was ironic to think that one of the reasons he'd first been attracted to Sally and eventually wished to marry her was because she was so lady-like, so decent and proper and obviously a virgin ... so damn different from the girls he usually dated and screwed so compliantly.
But he never expected that Sally's moral reserve would continue after the wedding! After all, she'd responded passionately to his kisses and fondling, so naturally he assumed she'd be eagerly willing for all sorts of fun and games when that gold band finally made sex legal and correct. Well, for all his efforts he might as well have married a watermelon. She'd just close her eyes and let him "have his way with her," acting as if sex was a duty a wife must suffer. Stan knew where Sally had gotten her attitude from; she'd inherited it from that prune-cunted bag of a mother, but while that might be the reason, it still wasn't any excuse. Okay, so Sally would probably never be a wanton nympho, he thought, but did she have to make him feel like some depraved pervert every time he expressed normal male reactions?
Why couldn't Sally be more like his sister-in-law Marge? Brother Jake's wife was a blonde vixen always twitching that luscious ass of hers as if begging to be rammed every instant of the day and night. More than once, Marge had rubbed up against him with those firm, full breasts of hers, purring something soft and suggestive, like she was inviting him to strip her naked on the spot and fuck her toenails off. In fact, he half suspected that if she weren't married to his brother, Marge would make even a more obvious play for him.
Stan felt his cock stiffen, and he was suddenly achingly aware of how long it had been since he'd been able to sink his shaft deep up inside a hotly responsive female. He was disturbed and abruptly guilty, realizing that it was his thoughts of Marge and not of his prudish wife that had inspired his tingling erection. Christ! Marriage to Sally was making him feel like a sex fiend!
"I'm going out," he told her sourly, beginning to move toward the front door.
"Now? But you just said you wanted lunch, Stan."
"Yeah, I know, but I've lost my appetite. Besides, it's getting kinda late and I promised the boys "
"Oh no, you're not going to see them again, are you?"
Clenching his fists, Stan pivoted about to face his wife, thinking how even by trying to leave to avoid an argument, he was somehow managing to get into one. "Damn right, I'm going to see them. How do you expect me to race without my pit crew?"
"Race?" Sally blinked, startled. "What race?"
"For Chrissakes, Sally, whaddyuh think I've been doing all morning, anyway? I've been preparing the car, is what, getting 'er all tuned up sharp and everything!"
"But ... But you never told me about "
"I did too, only you weren't paying attention, I guess. I said last Sunday that we were planning on entering the stocks up at Rapier City this weekend."
"I ... I must've forgotten," Sally replied weakly, feeling suddenly very alone and abandoned. "Rapier City, though, that's along way off, Stan. You've been out so much lately, and I thought "
"Well, don't think," Stan cut in snidely, his temper up now. "Yeah, Rapier City's a long way off and I'll be gone overnight. Me and the guys will sleep at the track."
"Stan, you can't "
"Who's going to stop me? You? Anyway, it's too late, Sally, the entrance fee's been paid and I ain't going to lose it by default."
"And what about me?" she cried out. "What do you expect me to be doing while you're gallivanting around?"
"Cook, clean house, whatever you usually do when I'm not here," he answered with exasperation. "Christ, Sally, it's only overnight, not some long trip somewheres."
"Cook! Clean! Yes sir. Mister Carstairs!" she spat. "Why should I bother to keep house when you're never here?" Her face streaked with tears, she stalked across to where he was standing beside the coffee table. She snatched up his copy of Aphrodite, waving it fuming at him. "Why should I bother when all you're interested in is that dratted junkheap of a car and these disgusting, sleazie girlie magazines!"
In a sudden burst of temper, she flung the magazine at her husband. It landed in a disordered pile near his feet, but she didn't stay to see it. Sobbing, Sally ran from the room, nearly tripping over the laundry basket as she fled down the hallway and into the bedroom. She threw herself onto the wide double bed, crying pitifully, her head throbbing with a headache.
Through his beer-fogged vision, Stan watched his wife race from him. Her frantic movements jiggled the taut globes of her buttocks, and he caught a glimpse of her firm inner thighs above the tapering curve of her flashing legs. Damn, even when having a tantrum, she was lovely! he thought, feeling a surge of excitement in his loins. He wanted to fuck her, fuck her senseless, to punish her for all her refusals, her uptightness, her prissy moralizations and righteous attitudes.
"And by God, I will!" he muttered thickly, stomping heavily toward the bedroom, resentment building heatedly in his mind. "I'll fuck her until all she knows is her cunt!"
CHAPTER TWO
Sally was dumbfounded by the sight of her husband barging in the bedroom, staggering like some vengeance-seeking monster toward her.
"Stan! What are you doing? Stan, don't you dare touch me!"
"I'm going to exercise my marital rights," he snarled, crawling onto the bed. "I've got a contract, remember?"
"You're disgusting!" Sally squealed back, and furiously writhed from his groping embrace, rolling over and standing up on the bedroom carpet, swiveling about to start running out of the room and away from her maddened husband.
"Oh no you don't!" she heard him bellow; and then he dove after her, grabbing her in a tackle before she could elude him a second time. She fought back, but was no match for his superior strength; and roughly she was hauled back to the bed. There was a ripping noise as she continued resisting, and Sally became instantly aware that in the scuffle, her blouse had been torn up the back, almost to the neckline.
"Oh!" she gasped, toppling on her back on the bed, her legs flying upwards. "Oh, look what you've done!"
"Shut up!" Stan bellowed, and with one savage wrench, he yanked the blouse entirely off, splitting its seams and popping buttons like hail in all directions. Before she could react, he then tore at her brassiere, crushing its snaps in back and thrusting its shoulder straps down over her cowering arms. He stared lewdly as her swelling breasts burst naked into view. Deliberately he reached out and began fondling and squeezing them, enjoying the look of terror and disbelief in his wife's eyes.
Sally couldn't comprehend what was happening to her. This couldn't be her husband, her own Stan, running his hands over her defenseless private flesh so cruelly, so impersonally!
"Now for your shorts," he grunted, clawing viciously at the top snap and the zipper of her pants.
"Stan, please, please!" Sally moaned pitifully, overwhelmed with shame and fright. But her vengeful husband was deaf to her pleas, tired of being stalled, tired of her prim disapproval. With swift, harsh jerks he wrenched her shorts off her fear-clenching thighs, snagging her thin nylon panties along with them down her trembling legs and off her feet, tossing her clothing and flats angrily in a heap beside the bed. Sally was now utterly naked and vulnerable, and the sight of her lithe body only inflamed him more.
Cowering against the coverlet, Sally tried futilely to conceal her nudity from his leering gaze, one arm crossing her throbbing breasts, while her other hand dipped fanwise across the dark pubic hair of her vaginal mound. She hoped against hope that her husband would come to his senses and stop trying to humiliate and hurt her this way. But Stan was not to be denied, not now, not after her long history of resistance.
She deserves this, he thought incoherently, half drunk on beer and half drunk on power. His cock was pulsatingly erect, and he was determined that Sally would not evade him this time. He began crawling toward her again, and despite her fear and revulsion, Sally couldn't help noticing the menacing bulge in his tight jeans. Her eyes were riveted to it in hypnotic fascination, and seeing her look, Stan swiftly unzipped his fly. Immediately his stiffened penis burst out of the confining cloth, appearing angry and purple, its thick throbbing cockhead standing out like the rounded top of a bludgeoning weapon.
Sally gasped in horror. She had never allowed herself to stare at his manhood fully before, and now, swollen and turgid, it seemed frightening, an instrument of torture, far too large for her fragile belly ever to fully absorb.
"Like it, honey?" Stan leered down at her, taking his massively swollen cock in both hands and stroking it lasciviously before her unbelieving eyes. Sucking in her breath, Sally began inching away from him on the bed, aiming again to get her feet on the floor and dash to freedom, unmindful in her terror that she was blatantly naked, and that the privacy of her house was her only sanctuary.
"Oh no, you don't," he snarled, reaching out and grasping her wrist in an iron grip. "Not this time, you don't."
Instinctively she tried to scratch his contorted face with her long, manicured fingernails, but she missed and left only the barest of welts along his neck.
"Oh, so now you wanna play rough, do you?" Still holding her wrists with one hand, he used the flattened palm of his other to twist her about and land several slapping spanks on her round, quivering buttocks. "Well, two can play that game!"
"Ahhh! Ahhh!" she screamed, flinching from the smarting pain lancing through her tender backside. "Stop it! God in heaven, stop beating me!
Stan laughed gutturally, towering over her as, whimpering, she cowered on the bed. "Alright, then, you be good. Or else you'll get another taste of this or worse!" And mournfully sobbing, Sally knew intuitively that Stan meant every word of his threat. Terrified, she peered up at him as he stripped off his shirt and jeans, and knelt naked above her. She hardly dared make a move, so uncertain was she of what this seeming strange torturer would do to her next. She couldn't comprehend what had taken possession of her husband; he was behaving like some monster in a particularly lewd nightmare, and surely she'd soon wake up from it! But no ... this was real, this was true, and her only chance was to submit and hope that by that resisting, she could hasten the culmination of his degrading actions.
Yet Stan was not to be hurried. Seeing his young wife submissive and whimpering only increased his feelings of potency and strength. A cruel glint came into his eyes as he contemplated how often in the past, she'd treated him like dirt and now he was going to make her pay for all of her rebuffs. He was through trying to understand her; obviously playing rough produced faster and better results! Well, so much the better!
Reaching down, he forced his wife's legs apart, while with his other hand he began to massage his desire-bloated penis. Slowly and deliberately he ran his hand up her sensitive inner thigh until it reached the curly pubic hair, rummaging for a moment in the soft fleecy blackness and running along the tender pink flesh of her vaginal lips. Then without the slightest warning, he drove his middle finger deep up inside her cuntal opening where he could feel the hard nub of her cervix.
"Ahhhhhhggggg!" Sally squealed in pain. "Nooooo!"
Despite her anguish and suffering, Sally felt a strangely perverse arousal from the ugly degrading things her husband was forcing her to submit to. The stinging sensation in her buttocks had subsided into an almost pleasurable wave of heat, and the realization that in some subconscious way she was actually beginning to relish his punishing brutality overwhelmed her with shame. Her own body was betraying her! No, no, she thought wildly, I mustn't! This is sinful, wrong ... but is that why I enjoy it, being punished for enduring it?
His middle finger still locked in her cruelly violated vagina, which was contracting in a desperate effort to expel this unwanted invader, Stan began to trace the narrow crevice from her puckered anus to the tip of her aching clitoris. Then panting heavily, seminal emissions oozing in droplets from the end of his iron-hard erection, Stan couldn't resist the carnal display laid out enticingly before him. Quickly he withdrew his hand from the vise-like grip of her pussy, and for an instant Sally thought he had finally come to his sanity. But then:
"I'm going to fuck you now," he snarled down at her.
"Oh no, oh God, not like this, Stan," Sally sobbed up at her husband, tears streaming in flowing rivulets down the sides of her cheeks. Stan was not to be put off, though, and she could feel him pulling her legs harshly apart, even further than they already were.
Stan crouched on his knees between her open thighs, adjusting his hard throbbing penis in his hands. Then, as suddenly as he had attacked her, he fell forward across her squirming naked body and rammed his cock deeply up into her finger-widened cunt.
"Agggh," she groaned. "Stop! Stop, you're hurting me!"
Which was the whole idea, Stan thought maniacally, beginning to fuck into her without caring about her pain or tears as she groaned and twisted in agony beneath his pumping loins. Sally groaned again and again in anguish as he thrust into her unwilling body with long deep strokes that traveled the full length of his hard, blood-engorged cock. His driving pelvis smacked savagely against the plane of her upturned pelvis, buffeting her head back against the pillows, and the smack of his hips against hers sounded like claps of thunder, scaring her as she writhed helplessly beneath him.
"You're killing me, you're killing me," she chanted, but there was no relief from Stan's onslaught, only the pain of an extra hard thrust up against her cervix. She was certain he had torn her apart deep inside, and the notion of being so cruelly assaulted and harmed, somehow seemed desirable. She had almost lost her control when Stan had savagely mauled her vagina with his finger, but the knowledge that she was actually starting to accept and want this inhuman rutting was a thousand times worse! To be forced to lie beneath her brutish husband and be treated like some slut he'd have picked up from the gutter was almost too degrading to endure, yet it was almost like a punishment, a just retribution for performing sex at all! Sex was filthy, so she must be filthy to enter in it! But she must never let herself desire it, no never that, for then she would surely be condemned and sent to hell for her wickedness! She steeled herself against the budding tendrils of pleasure that were rippling up involuntarily from her loins, her thoughts flowing incomprehensibly through her tormented mind until she had no feeling left in her, not even having pain left to experience any longer ... only the horrid humiliation and anguish of this hateful rape of her flesh by her husband. She lay passively enduring it, no longer moving or caring, beneath him.
"Move it!" Stan commanded heatedly. He dropped his hands to the softness of her buttocks and cupped the cheeks tightly, digging his fingers hard into her resilient flesh to emphasize his brutal passion for her. "C'mon, move that ass of yours!"
Sally sobbed and began a slow mechanical grinding of her buttocks up against his thrusting groin in an effort to escape the painfully digging fingers cutting into her flesh. Small red welts followed their path; and her shame and humiliation grew with each further motion that brought his orgasm closer. She began undulating her body faster to meet the rhythm of his skewering penis, clasping it tightly with her vaginal muscles and praying for the strength to please him quickly.
Stan sighed with delight as he felt the sudden voluntary movements of her buttocks beneath him. He surged into his nakedly acquiescing wife with greater power, sensing that she was finally his to do with as he wished now. She was a slave lying beneath him, preparing to follow his every command, just as he had so often dreamed she would become for him. He would give it to her now as she had never had it before, and she would learn to adore it ... she was adoring it, as he felt the motions of her hips and the arching of her back as she worked and ground up against him like some female demon.
Sally's head rolled from side to side on the bed as she squirmed in lewd response beneath her husband's pummeling lust. She bucked and churned, feeling he was nearing his climax, and she groaned in concert with him, encouraging him and pleading for him to end it and fill her cunt. He was going to spew into her all the love and passion he could muster, and the horrible thought of receiving all his lewd male sperm made her wish he'd beaten her unconscious instead. It would have been far better than this obscene ravishment of her body by her own husband!
"I ... I'm cumming, Sally! I'm cumming ... ! " she heard Stan pant above her, feeling him suddenly quicken his thrusts as if his body were in the last spasms of death. And there was nothing in the world she could do about it except lie beneath him and feign her rampant passion. There was a muffled sigh, and then she felt his giant pumping cock burst like a dam as he gave one last tremendous thrust into her upraised vaginal slit.
"Oh God, Stan, do it! Do it! she gurgled up at his sweating body, wanting to get it over with, wanting it to end forever. He began to empty his sperm-bloated testicles in wave after wave of boiling semen, far up into the depths of her pussy, until Sally thought it would never stop flowing in her. She could feel the thick, creamy seed overflowing around his still-ejaculating penis and force its way out of her painfully stretched cuntal passage, rolling down her inner thighs to soak into the bedspread below. The sticky wetness puddling around her writhing buttocks made her feel more debauched and miserable than she had ever felt in her life before.
But at last it subsided, and after a few more sharp spurts, Stan pulled his slowly softening cock out of her vagina with a slurpy noise, and slumped, satiated, next to his wife's supine form.
Stan gazed silently at the subjugated girl, his sexual frenzy now subdued. He felt awkward and guilty for having let his unbridled lusts overcome the patience he knew he should have had with his reticent wife, but he was unable to know what he should say to her in apology. Finally he rose to his feet beside the bed, mustering the courage to stammer:
"Sally ... I ... I'm sorry."
He waited, but Sally didn't respond.
"Forgive me, honey, I don't know what came over me. Maybe if we could talk this out ... I mean, if we could come to more of an understanding about sex, this wouldn't have built up so badly inside of me."
Still she couldn't find words for Stan, and unable to even look at her naked husband standing embarrassed alongside her, she rolled over and began to softly cry. Smitten by shame now, Stan leaned toward her, his arms outstretched in a gesture of succor, his fingers lightly touching her nude flesh in an effort to comfort and mollify her. "Sally, honey ... "
But his gentle caress was like a barbarous stab through her, and the idea of having Stan embrace her again in any way at all made Sally want to vomit. "Nooo, don't touch me!" she screamed out in maddened anguish, and in sheer panic, she wrenched free of his tender hands. She jumped from the bed, tears blinding her eyes, and lurched for the door. "Never touch me again."
"Sally!"
Hysterically, she sprinted down the hall and into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it, before Stan could catch her. She pressed herself flat against the door, cringing as she heard him approach and angrily rattle the knob.
"Sally! Sally, you unlock this door and come out!"
"Never! Never, never, never?'
"Listen, I told you I was sorry," Stan shouted back, wanting to recoup his lost vanity and feeling extremely frustrated. "But you've got to understand a man's feelings about these things! I'm not a robot that can stand being married to a woman like you and not feel desire. It's your fault as much as mine, you and your Godalmighty virtue!"
"Get out! Go on, get dressed and get out of this house!" Sally howled in her bitterness and pain. "Go to your loathsome race now, but just leave me alone!"
"Alright! Alright, if that's the way you want it."
"I do!" she cried out vehemently. "Oh, I do.. "
"Maybe I can find myself a real woman up in Rapier City! Yeah," he added in the heat of his fury, "yeah, I just might do that. I just might go looking for some sweet hairpin who knows how to please a man and wants to! That'd teach you good!"
With his warning threat still echoing through the house, Stan stomped back to the bedroom, where he swiftly put on his jeans and shirt, muttering and swearing lividly to himself. Without the house and into the garage, where he started up his regular car. Sally could hear him gunning the engine of their station wagon, backing the auto trailer with the Chevy race car on it out of the driveway, then down the placid suburban street.
He's gone, she thought miserably, when at last she could no longer hear any sounds at all. He's gone, and perhaps to another woman ... Weakly she sat down on the closed toilet lid, a harsh sob coming from her throat. She grasped a towel from the rack and put it between her lips, and hugging the rest of it to her, she started crying dementedly into it. Between her long statuesque thighs she could feel the warm wet semen of her husband's potent orgasm streaming down her inner legs. And high up inside her pulsating cunt she still felt a burning sense of shame and degradation.
CHAPTER THREE
Now, stretched out on the chaise lounge and drinking wine, Sally felt blood rising in her cheeks as she recalled her rape a few hours before. Their argument, her capitulation to his attack, her nakedness and then seeing Stan undress, and ultimately feeling his thick long penis spewing white sperm deep up inside her cowering belly Oh God, what was the answer to this terrible mess?
She felt tears once again building in her eyes, but determinedly she choked back her sob, wiping her eyes with the palm of one hand. There was a time to cry and a time to face the situation, and just as she'd told herself while locked in the bathroom, she couldn't shut herself up forever as if she didn't have a life to live. Stan would be back after the race, no doubt, perhaps having had another woman, perhaps not ... she sincerely doubted that he'd admit to having been unfaithful to her in any case. But Stan would return, and she would have to face him bravely, and eventually, she might be able to come to terms with him and herself, somehow ... somehow ...
Once having resolved to leave the bathroom, Sally had felt thoroughly fatigued and empty of purpose. The laundry could wait; everything could wait. She wanted a drink and to lie down, though, Lord knew, not on that infamous bed where she'd been assaulted! The sun was still shining brightly, and the patio looked warm and inviting to her; she decided to relax outside for awhile, at least until her flesh stopped aching and she'd gathered her scattered wits about her again. Shutting her eyes to the rumpled bed, she went to her dresser and took out her bikini, then paused in the kitchen for a glass and the bottle of vin rose before padding barefoot out to the patio.
There, for the past few hours, she had lain in a kind of listless stupor, drinking and sunning and contemplating her future, such as it was.
Frequently she would gaze down at her almost naked, curvaceously formed body, studying the burnished marks and rose-colored bruises around her breasts and inner thighs. Her round rose-tipped breasts were extremely sensitive to the touch of the fabric, but in a strangely tingling way that made the nipples swell into erection as if wishing for more attention. The curls of her dark pubic hair brushed against the crotch of her bikini bottoms, acting as a thin cushion protecting the inflamed lips of her still-fevered cuntal slit, although whenever she moved her hips in the lounge, she felt a tantalizing sting from her throbbing swollen vagina.
How could her own husband have ravished and humiliated her so? How? And how could she have married such a monster? A man to whom she was nothing more than a sex object, who used her solely to satisfy his own carnal lusts? Sally settled back in the lounge, feeling lost and more alone than ever, staring morosely at the brilliantly setting sun as it glowed on the dusky gray rim of the sky. It was a magnificently beautiful sunset, full of orange and yellow streaks, with the pale bronze disk of the sun itself in the middle ... but the brightness refused to cheer the desolate wife. Stan had molested and then deserted her. That it was a better thing for him to have gone than stayed didn't do enough to dispel her gloomy depression. Stan was off in Rapier City, and she wondered if he was missing her at all, or whether another woman was helping him to forget ...
Her reverie was interrupted by the approach of footsteps on the flagstone patio. She glanced around and saw a well-built man dressed in an expensive business suit walking toward her from around the side of the house.
"Mrs. Carstairs?" the man called to her.
"Yes?" She shaded her eyes, still unable to recognize him.
"I'm Merle Kingsford," he said, with a friendly grin.
"Merle Kingsford ... of Kingsford Dairies?"
"That's right," the man answered, standing now just on the other side of the table from her. "I own it."
"Oh!" Sally struggled to sit up, demurely crossing her legs and trying to pull herself together. She was neither in the mood or the condition to be the gracious hostess, but she didn't have much choice about it this was Stan's boss! "Oh ... ah, please, sit down, Mister Kingsford."
"Please, just call me Merle. No formalities, I insist."
"Very well Merle. Would you like some wine?"
"That's very kind, but don't bother on my account. I was looking for your husband, Sally. It is Sally, isn't it?"
Things were progressing a bit too fast for the distraught young wife to fully follow. "Why ... yes, it is, Mis I mean, Merle."
He chuckled politely. "Don't be surprised, Sally. My company isn't so large that I can't take a personal interest in my employees. Remembering who they are and who's important to them is not only good business, but I genuinely believe in it."
"Why, why how nice of you," Sally replied, rather taken aback by this remarkable older man. He was a lean, bronzed, hard-muscled personage who obviously spent as much time in the field as he did behind an executive's desk; but he was immaculately groomed, his salt-and-pepper hair excellently barbered and every stitch he wore tailored to perfection. Sally found that she was instantly at ease with his open, yet sophisticated charm; and she thought to herself that Merle Kingsford would never ever be so crude and callous as to rape his wife.
"I'm afraid that Stan isn't here," she continued, sipping her wine. "He left a short while ago for Rapier City."
"That's a shame," Kingsford said, frowning slightly.
"Is there anything the matter?"
"No ... No, not really. It's only that Stan asked for overtime driving if any came up, and he is one our better drivers. So naturally I thought of him when this truckload of milk suddenly had to be delivered tonight to Hoffenberg."
"Oh, that is disappointing, especially after you came all the way out here for Stan."
"Mmmmm," Kingsford murmured, gazing at her as if lost in thought, tapping his manicured nails on the table where he sat. "I tried to phone, but your number doesn't work."
"It doesn't?" Perplexed, Sally stood up and wiped her hands on the sides of her bikini bottoms. "Well, look, Merle, I do feel the least I can do is pour you a glass of cool wine to make up for the hot drive over here. I'll be right back."
Sally hurried inside the house, getting a clean glass from the dishwasher in the kitchen, then returned by way of the living room, where she paused to check the telephone.
"Hello? Hello?" she called into the receiver, but there wasn't even a dial tone. The instrument was dead. "Oh, drat," she said peevishly, hanging up; this on top of everything else! Well, after Merle Kingsford left, she'd pop over to Jake and Marge's next door and use their phone to call for repairs.
Then, crossing toward the patio door again, she happened to glance out the picture window and see Kingsford taking off his suit jacket. My, he was a handsome, suave gentleman! He carefully hung his coat on the back of the chair, instead of throwing it around someplace like Stan always did with his clothes. Oh, why couldn't Stan be more like his boss? Here was a man to emulate! In fact, with the wine in her blood letting some of her fastidious modesty melt into honest appraisal, she couldn't help admitting to herself that she could be physically attracted to the man to his lithe, graceful motions, his strong chest under his satiny shirt, the hard bas-relief of his penis and testicles straining the crotch of his trousers ...
My God! Sally averted her eyes, knowing she was blushing a little. She couldn't go around with lewd thoughts like that! What would Merle say if he knew what she was thinking about? And what on earth had gotten into her to even dream of such perverted notions? No, no stop it this instant ... !
Hastily, Sally stepped back outside, crossing to the table with the glass. "It's rather a pleasant wine," she said, smiling as she poured some into his glass. "Very refreshing on a day like today, too."
"Thank you, Sally." Kingsford sipped, then nodded his approval. "It is good. How very kind of you to offer."
"I suppose you'll be in a hurry now, to get back and find another driver for the run."
"Oh no, not especially. As long as the milk leaves by midnight, it'll arrive in plenty of time. And to be perfectly honest, I didn't exactly rush out here all in a lather. It's been kind of slow at work today, and I used this as an excuse to take a drive. I don't really have to back at the dairy at all this evening." He sighed, taking another drink of his wine. "Yes, Sally, if the truth be known, I've been at loose ends ever since Agnes died."
"Agnes?"
"My wife, bless her soul. Gone three years now, struck down in her prime by cancer of the cervix. If only she'd have gone for a yearly Pap smear, I ... Oh, but excuse me, that's terribly indelicate of me, speaking of such matters."
"Not at all, Merle." Sally replied, thinking to herself how much more indelicate Stan had been just a little while before.
"I do get maudlin at times, Sally, and carry on insufferably."
"I don't think so at all," Sally replied, and then heard herself add: "There's nothing unclean or unhealthy about biology, Merle, and no reason to apologize about discussing the body." Lord! Stan's brutality must have snapped her mind along with her muscles, Sally thought dizzily, unable to comprehend where she could have found the audacity to be so outspoken.
"Then you don't mind my staying? It's so very peaceful here, so comforting if you don't mind my saying."
"Not at all, and feel free to make yourself at home."
Sally settled herself back on the chaise, continuing to drink the wine, even after she knew she'd passed the point where it was good for her. She and Merle Kingsford chatted informally with a dusk falling rapidly now and bathing them in shadows. She felt perfectly safe with her husband's boss, assuming that a man of his maturity and caliber would never try anything indecent with her; and certainly she wouldn't allow herself to get drunk in his presence. Kingsford was merely being affable, apparently as lonely as she currently felt, and as relieved to have a bit of company this evening to wipe away the blues ... Yet strangely, as she drank more wine and talked to him, she felt a tingling of some unnamed menace ... some subtly pervasive aura of danger she couldn't quite finger ...
But the wine kept loosening her inhibitions, gradually relaxing her mental cautions, and after a short while she had to slough off her slight feeling of wariness as being nothing more than her imagination working overtime. Merle was an artful conversationalist, witty on a dozen different subjects, and if his occasional risque' joking was a bit off-color, it was deliciously naughty instead of just plain crude like Stan's and Jake's foul humor. Pouring herself another refill, she told herself not to be such a wet blanket, that the only reason his presence made her distressed at first was because he was so much of a man, instead of a child like her husband. The delightful sensations she could feel in her stomach and loins were only the result of too much wine, she told herself; what the hell, she was having a far better time than she thought she'd be having tonight and why not, considering Stan was having his fun?
All the while, the handsome older man sitting across from her was inwardly gloating with anticipation. He had told Sally the truth; he had come here on a perfectly genuine errand, and if Stan had been home, he'd have given him the driving assignment and left it at that. But instead, fate seemed to've dealt him one of those winning hands, first arranging to put the phone out of order, and then to have Stan away overnight. Call it sheer coincidence, if you will, but he planned to take full advantage of the situation, believing wholeheartedly in the adage that a person makes his own luck. He was going to try for the whole damn jackpot, and was busily steering events into a situation where he could seduce this young naive wife and delve into her tight little cunt.
Yet, for all his aching desire to slip his thick hard penis into Sally's pinkly quivering pussy, Merle was well aware that to suddenly hit her with his lewd proposals would sour an otherwise wonderful setup. He'd learned the secret of timing; he had years of practice in how to slowly but inexorably turn a sexual innocent into a lust-raging tigress. He was experienced in the sensing of the most complex of moods, knowing when to retreat and when to advance, and just now he was stifling a carnal smirk as he sensed this lovely woman's release from the normally protective barrier of her marriage vows.
He was also having a difficult time controlling his pulsing cock from leaping into full blood-hard erection at the sight of the lightly-clad wife, for Sally was as delicate as heather mist to him as she half-lidded her eyes and sensuously cast them his way. He longed to rip off her bikini and thrust his rising penis into the narrow teasing slit of her warm moist pussy, but he knew this was not the moment. Before his physical conquest of her resilient flesh, had to come greater mental submission and the lessening of barriers one stranger automatically erects towards another. But the relaxing had started, and it was time now to move on to the next step that would eventually lead him to her bed ...
"I could use another refill, Sally," Merle said in a husky voice. "Is there any more wine left?"
Ruefully, Sally held up the empty bottle, shaking her head. "And there's not a drop to be had in the house, either."
"Ah well ... Then how about some dinner?"
"Excuse me?"
He chuckled again, seeing her startled expression and figuring what she must've been thinking. "No, no, I wasn't inviting myself here, Sally. I meant let's have something to eat in a restaurant."
"You ... and I? Tonight? Together?" Sally blinked, caught entirely off-guard by Kings-ford's proposal, and blurted automatically, "Oh no, thank you, but I couldn't do that."
"And why not?"
Why not indeed? Sally tried thinking of reasons and excuses, but her brain felt woozy from the unaccustomed amount of alcohol, and she realized that in spite of her best intentions, she was more than a bit drunk. Her empty glass was on the table after how many? Six? Eight? A dozen glasses? She couldn't recall exactly how much of the gallon jug she'd help consume, but somehow, it didn't seem as important now as it had earlier.
"I asked, Sally, why you can't have dinner with me?"
"Well, because ... Because there's Stan to consider."
"Stan is in Rapier City for the night, you told me so yourself. Why, I'm sure he's out having dinner, perhaps in mixed company as well."
"No!" she said too hastily. "Stan wouldn't do that!"
"Why not? I keep asking you, why not? After all, it isn't as if he were plotting an affair with his dinner guests."
Sally blushed, a scarlet shade, fears of precisely that jumping instantly to mind. Still she attempted to keep things in their proper perspective, trying desperately to stave off her pressing suspicions, her rising temptations, and the foggy muzzle of alcohol which was stealing over her mind. "But ... But I'm married to Stan, Merle, and a married woman can't just go out ... Out to dinner like it was a date!"
"I'm flattered you think of me as being so eligible as to have a date with, Sally," he replied smoothly. "Nevertheless, I'll be eating alone tonight, and if I gather what you're saying, you'll be all by yourself too. Unless you join me, that is. Besides, this is the twentieth century now, and a wife has the exact same privileges and rights as her husband does. If Stan can go out with a pretty lady," he added, sinking the seed of suspicion that much deeper in her fertile mind, "then surely you can dine with his boss. And who's to know? Who says you can't? Who's here to tell you can't enjoy yourself every bit as much as Stan can?"
"I ... I ... " Her words trailed away, Sally's thoughts jumbled and blurry as she stared at the handsome, smiling Merle Kingsford. He really was most persuasive, she thought. Pure masculine charm, and she was ... she was alone, just like he said, while Stan was off doing God-only-knew-what in that sin city to the north, carousing around with his crummy, greasy, car pit mechanics he called friends, winking at bar sluts and possibly not stopping at simply the winks ... Why not indeed? she repeated to herself. Why not continue enjoying herself tonight with Merle? She wasn't going to do anything wrong; she was a married woman who believed fully in the sanctity of her vows. Yet Merle was right there wasn't a double standard any longer, and she darn well could have dinner with her husband's employer at some swank restaurant if she wanted to! Did she want to? Yes!
"Love to," she said in an abrupt contradiction of her first thought. She rose unsteadily and Merle took her arm. She accepted his assistance gratefully, for with all the wine she'd consumed on essentially an empty stomach, she doubted whether she could have made it to the door without him.
"I'll have to change into something more ... " She giggled, leaning against his strong shoulder. "Well, something just more."
Kingsford opened the door and helped her navigate into the living room, then across to the hallway leading to her bedroom. Suddenly recalling the torn-up bed still spotted and wrinkled from Stan's rape, Sally hesitated and said: "I'll be okay from here, Merle. You just go sit down, I'll only be a moment."
"Take your time, my dear. We have all night." He meant it literally. Sally took it figuratively, giggling anew as she swayed down the hall and entered her bedroom. She sighed deeply as she closed the door, noticing how fast her heart was beating, and then quickly she strode to her closet, feeling delightfully guilty at the notion of going to dinner with Merle, relishing it as if it were truely something forbidden and therefore more exciting. She went through her rack of dresses, finally selecting a simple yet tasteful beige outfit, which she placed on the bed, still on its hanger. Then at her dresser, she took out a fresh pair of panties, a clean brassiere, and pantyhose.
A imagine restaurant! She kept thinking warmly, unhooking the clasps of her bikini top. Someplace high-class where Merle would be known and the maitre d' would bow and scrape, where Stan had never taken her before, and where nobody in their class of friends and acquaintances could possibly afford ... She leaned forward slightly, letting the halter slide free from her jutting breasts, then taking the thin strip of cloth and packing it snugly back into the dresser drawer, her exposed breasts with their deep rose nipples bobbing slightly as she moved.
Straightening, she happened to glance at the door, and to her surprise, saw that it was slightly open. She hadn't quite caught it's latch in her hurry, she supposed, but it was too late now to close it properly. She was half naked, and anyway, it was only ajar by a sliver, not enough to hurt anything.
Humming softly, she turned back toward the dresser, beginning to wriggle out of the bikini bottoms. And unknown to her, the door slowly widened another inch, and two hotly gleaming eyes stared in at her with feasting delight ...
CHAPTER FOUR
Merle Kingsford had been unable to sit still in the living room, shivering inwardly at the stimulating thought of Mrs. Carstairs undressing so close by. Jesus, if he'd known his driver had such a pert little twat in his house, he'd have been over here sniffing the rabbit hole long before now! And for the next few minutes, she'd be shedding that wispy bikini and bouncing around naked while dressing for their date. With only him in the house ...
It was too much for a confirmed voyeur like Kingsford to ignore. Although he was convinced that eventually he'd land her in bed, there was a certain tingling challenge to spying on her while she was still oblivious and innocent of his intentions. He tiptoed down the hallway, sucking in his breath as he saw that, incredibly, her bedroom door was partially open. It was like a sign from the gods! Sure, there'd be a risk, but he figured as he stealthily made his way closer, that that was the fun of it, the dare he was taking ...
Silently he inched the door wider, moving into a peeking position to peer in at the sensuous young woman ...
The tensely crouching man was just in time to see the thin wisp of a bikini halter be stuffed into the dresser drawer, and he felt a slight jerk of his thick penis as her nearly nude body straightened and turned fully frontal toward him. He sank back into the shadows, holding his breath until he heard Sally moving again, and then returned to his staring. She was sliding her bottoms off now, without any lewd or obscene movement to indicate she was aware of being watched, and the insidious thought of secretly viewing an involuntary performance aroused Kingsford all the more.
Now she was peeling that triangle of cloth down over her supple hips, and he was going to see ... Yeah! Jesus Christ, he was going to see all of Mrs. Carstairs' hot little box! The swelling pink cuntal lips of her hair-fringed vagina came into clear view for the older man as she tugged down her bikini and added it to the halter in the drawer. She slightly parted her thighs when she closed the drawer and turned toward the bed, and Kingsford watched, straining forward now, as she unconsciously displayed still more of her narrow pink slit to his lusting eyes.
The tight restrictions of his suit trousers and bunched underpants were hurting the swollen flesh of his pulsating erection now, and Kingsford pushed his hand down against his fly to relieve the aching pressure. His erotically excited cock sprang up to press against his hairy abdomen, and he glanced down to see his tremendous bulge pushing out against the fabric of his trousers. God, how he'd love to strip naked as she was, and rush right in there, pinning her to the bed with one fell swoop of his rampant cock! But no ... No, with a girl like her that would be a bad mistake.
Or would it?
Gape-mouthed and bulging-eyed now, Merle Kingsford stared stupefied into the bedroom, not believing what he was witnessing. Sally Carstairs was hotter than he'd assumed she had to be, to be doing what she was! She was one wanton woman, one wantin' woman, nothing prissy or shy about her at all when it came, to sex!
What Kingsford was seeing was Sally standing naked by the full-length mirror beside the dresser, totally ignorant of the fact that she was being spied upon. She moaned as she looked down at her darkly curling pubic hair and the dainty pink flesh of her vaginal slit, her mind returning once again to the horribly savage battering she'd received earlier from her husband. Her fingers moved hesitantly to caress the smooth, flat plane of her lower belly, her fingers sensitive to the still aching muscles beneath her satiny skin. Inquisitive about the damage which had been wreaked upon her tender loins, she momentarily dipped her fingers into the flushed crevice of her moistly parted vagina, exploring the sensitive inner folds of her abused vagina the way she might have perused a flesh wound or other injury.
Yet to Kingsford peeking in on her, her light touchings up and down along her cuntal channel seemed to be the masturbations of a love-starved woman incapable of controlling her passionate body. Thoroughly misreading her intentions, lust billowed like heady steam through the older man, igniting his own alcoholic frenzy beyond the point of no return. Forgetting his promises of subtlety and gradual seduction, he took what he saw as a signal that now was the time to strike while the "iron" was hot! Breathing heavily, he began shedding his clothes as fast as he could, consumed now entirely by the need to possess her.
Meanwhile, Sally was moaning softly as she increasingly massaged her dainty vaginal crevice, her mind whirling with erotic memories of how Stan had cruelly subdued her almost to the point of willing desire. Her fingers moved of their own volition, dipping further, grazing deeper along her moistly parting vulva. Closing her eyes and swaying slightly, she let her hand slide up and down the tingling inner folds of her responsive cunt, lightly touching the tip of her perversely hardening clitoris. No ... No ... she warned herself. She shouldn't be doing this, she couldn't be ... this was worse of a sin than having lain beneath her husband and become excited by his brutal ravishment!
Suddenly she heard a low growl behind her, and her eyes flashed wide with horror. She froze in her finger-fucking stance, her thighs slightly spread and with her hand pressed clasping to her pussy, unable to believe the image she saw reflected in the mirror before her. She twisted around, whipping her dress off the bed defensively holding it to herself, cringing away from the advancing form of Merle Kingsford, who was slowly coming toward her wearing nothing but a pair of underpants.
"Wh What are you doing here?"
The older man came closer, chuckling obscenely. "What do you think?" he leered, and she saw the heavy sag in the front of his thin shorts pointing salaciously in her direction.
"Get out," she hissed in terror. "Get out!"
"Now don't give me no innocent act, Sally. I've been watching you from the doorway. I've been watching you rubbing yourself like a schoolgirl in heat. Don't tell me you don't want it."
"Merle!" she gasped, realizing that viewing her had aroused him to a fever pitch, just like her husband got aroused when staring at those filthy magazine pictures ... and the thought that in her ignorance, she'd become no better than one of those whorish models made her blush guiltily with shame. "Oh no!"
"Oh yes," he taunted lecherously. "And I've got a much better method than your finger of tickling your imagine!"
"No, no I wasn't " But her protest was choked off as he pressed his all but naked flesh against her, kissing her ardently and spreading her lips open until his tongue splurged deep into her mouth. His hands commenced to explore her defenseless body, only the bunched dress hanging between them acting as a useless shield to protect her swelling breasts.
In spite of herself, Sally's hands fluttered upward to his shoulders and she felt herself beginning to kiss back. It must be the wine we drank, she thought, trying to pull away, her flesh trembling convulsively as she felt his palm close over one yielding breast. She groaned, wriggling with uncertainty and fear, but that only made matters worse, as the dress dropped to the floor between them, leaving her entirely uncovered.
"Merle, no ... no, don't ... " she moaned, feeling his weight against her breasts and struggling feebly to free herself. But it seemed as if his body was everywhere, pulling her magnetically into a spiraling vortex of passion she had never experienced before. His thickly throbbing penis was lurching excitedly against her thighs, teasing her naked skin with jerky little upward movements, while he sank his head against the softly swelling mounds of her breasts, breathing harshly and burying his mouth between their warm fullness. He encircled one of the pink aureoles with his moist lips, sucking gently, encouraging them to harden and perk up into erect buds aching for more.
"Ohhh," she moaned again, feeling sharp tingling sensations up and down her spine. She had to stop this madness before it was too late! The wine had made her unable to keep solid control of the rapidly deteriorating situation, and for some loathsome reason, Merle's lewd attentions were more tempting than anything Stan had ever done since they'd been married! Was that why? Was she responding to this strange man precisely because his assault was so wickedly forbidden and sinful? She groaned aloud, telling herself that it didn't matter why it felt so erotic to her, she had to stop it! She was a married woman! Yet her legs were trembling, and her blood was coursing hotly through her veins, even as she broke their heady embrace and stepped back, fending him off with her arms.
"No, Merle," she insisted. "No, no more!"
"You want me and I want you, Sally," he said in a soft coaxing tone. "It's simple biology and you know it."
"M-maybe, maybe not, but I ... I can't let myself," she whimpered in self pity. "I love Stan, and I just can't do anything that would make me sorry for the rest of my life. I can't!"
"Why not?" he asked. "We went through this about going out to dinner, Sally, and the same reasons still hold true now. Why not? Who's to know?"
"I would, and that'd be enough," Sally protested. "I'd never be able to face my husband again if we went any farther! I've allowed too much as it is."
"I can't understand why such a lovely woman like you won't let herself enjoy life a little more on the side. Why, Stan's probably got a little girl all fixed up right now. All men do, whenever they get the chance away from their wives."
"Stan isn't that kind!"
"Stan-likes sex, doesn't he? Well, doesn't he?"
Sally's already crimsoned face turned a brighter red, her answer more obvious than if she'd put it in words. "Just as I thought," Merle said with a triumphant grin, and he pulled her to him, grinding his pelvis tightly into hers, sliding his hands down to cup the soft roundness of her buttocks and pull her naked loins tightly to his.
"Since he-likes sex, he'll be out getting some," he whispered insidiously into her ear. It didn't matter to him whether it was true or not; he was feeding her an excuse to submit to what she apparently wanted him to do fuck her! He had no idea that inadvertently, he had hit upon the major torment in Sally's heart. Her very helplessness and the thought of her husband making love to another woman as he'd threatened to do were shattering her mind with agony and guilt and secret tendrils of prurient desire.
Yet still she fought against Kingsford and herself.
"N-no, Merle, whatever Stan may be doing, that doesn't give me the right to get back at him this way. P-please, don't touch me like that!" she whimpered as she felt the lewdly delicious feelings rippling through her from his stroking embrace.
But Kingsford ignored her waning resistance, his hands trailing a teasing path down over her gently curving thighs and around the front of her hips to part the curly dark hair at the crest of her vaginal slit. There he toyed lasciviously, filling her belly with tormenting sensations, and then his fingers coiled downwards into the wetly secreting crevice of her fleshy pink cunt. His fingertips softly grazed the tiny bud of her clitoris, sending it swelling anew into quivering erections, and she gasped involuntarily as wild electric shocks of pleasure washed through her wine-dazed senses. Her raw, chaffed pussy undulated needfully out against Kingsford's hand with unconscious abandonment, unable to resist the unwanted passion of his thrusting fingers which were now dipping heatedly up into her vagina.
"Merle! Merle, no ... " she shuddered as her body reacted against his will. This was inexplicable, this insane response so soon after having been raped! She didn't like sex! She didn't want sex! Was she only trying to punish herself further ... ?
"Stop, dear God, stop!" she panted tearfully. "You mustn't!"
"But I must, Sally dear, I must," he murmured with a gloating voice. "There's only tonight, for tomorrow Stan will be back."
He groaned with the obscene lust to finally possess this young throbbing cunt, the very idea of fucking his driver's wife making his penis stab painfully against the tightness of his underpants. Unable to contain his overwhelming greed for this moaning wife curvaceously twisting against him, he began frantically to push his semen-moistened shorts down over his thighs and buttocks. Christ, he had to have her! Right now, right now before he started cumming in his pants!
The bedroom whirled around Sally as she shivered in horrified fascination. She could see, through the distortion of her alcohol-filmed eyes, the hugeness of his hard fleshy cock as he slid his shorts down his legs and drew them entirely off. She found herself staring at it with a suddenly rising terror, his giant erection rearing from his hairy abdomen looking far more fearsome and menacing than Stan's had only hours before. Stan ... The recollections of her struggling under her husband's rapacious assault flashed through her mind with fright and pain, shattering the mindless passions Kingsford had aroused in her.
"No! No, in heaven's name, no!" she pleaded. "I won't let you! I won't!" She struggled against him with hysterical strength, once again remembering the agony and horror which Stan had caused her when he'd callously stripped naked and attacked her attacked her just like Kingsford was doing now, right here in this very same room! It was simply too much for her crazed mind to take! She turned and twisted from his urgent grip, her brain pulsing with the single panicky dread that this time for certain she must escape ... she must run ... run ... !
"Sally! Wait!"
Kingsford clutched at her waist, but she was already sprinting nakedly out of the bedroom door and down the narrow hallway, her voluptuous breasts dancing wildly and her lungs threatening to burst from fear and exertion. The terrified wife was sped on by the knowledge of the adulterous coupling she must avoid, this one burning thought making her uncaring that she was without clothes, without pride, without anything except fear.
Kingsford ran after her, her quivering buttocks a shimmery spectacle that only urged the man on faster. He saw her reach the living room and then stumble as her toes stubbed in the long fuck of the carpeting. Her flashing legs twisted beneath her, and losing balance, Sally fell sprawling on her back, her legs opening wide as she landed.
Kingsford pounced on her in that position before she could struggle upright again. "Ah-hah!" he crowed jubilantly, clamping his palms against the soft insides of her unintentionally splayed thighs. "Now you won't get away from me again!"
"Let go! Let go of me!" Sally fought to close her legs, but it was a hopelessly one-sided battle, for Kingsford was far too large and strong for her to overpower. She could see him hunched down between her thighs, holding her fast in an iron-like grip no matter how she squirmed and bucked, his features leering down like a saucy grin of a lion ready to devour its fear-stricken prey spread in sacrifice before it.
"Please, Merle, oh please, don't! I ... I'll do anything you want, but not this, not this! I can't make love with you!"
"Oh but you can, my dear Sally, and you will!" he said with a smirk. "There's a time for being the shy and modest wife, and a time for being the hot and passionate woman you are underneath. And you do want me to fuck you, you know you do deep down in your heart, and I'm not going to let some silly display of last-minute coyness ruin a good time for both of us."
"No, no, I don't want to, I don't," she chanted in a whine, refusing to accept his filthy accusations as the truth. She couldn't believe what Stan's boss was telling her! How could this man she'd thought of as being so kind and considerate, so much of a gentleman how could he be so crude and obscene to her now? She whimpered in abject humiliation, shuddering with apprehension and terror as she watched Kingsford's tongue slowly circling his lips in eager preparation.
Kingsford placed his hands flat against the insides of. her trembling thighs, his thumbs resting on the soft fleshy lips of her cunt. Then with a slow outward motion, he drew the flushed round crest apart and exposed the cowering flesh of her defenseless pussy to the mercy of his gaze. He greedily stared at it for a moment and then with an animalistic groan, he dropped his face and buried the full length of his tongue snake-like up into the warmly throbbing walls of her vagina.
Sally jerked, a soul-searing moan escaping from her constricted lungs. Her buttocks ground down into the rug, trying to escape the teasing assault on her sensitive cuntal slit as the older man's head rocked up and down in lascivious hunger between her wide-held legs.
"He can't be, he can't be," she groaned over and over to herself in undisguised misery and shame, her head up off the floor and watching in horrified disbelief at this nightmare that was actually happening to her. She recalled how Stan had tried to kiss her down there a few times when first they'd been married, and how she'd angrily clamped her thighs closed to him, recoiling from the obscene perversion he wished to perform on her. The normal way the "normal" way that was at least tolerable, but any and all forms of oral sex were surely wicked and debasing acts against man and nature! But now, even though she felt horror and revulsion at being the unwilling partner to such carnality, secret little wisps of forbidden sensation were stealing gradually up from her pulsating loins. Her arms lay tensed at her sides, while her firm full breasts jiggled slightly from the lewd buffeting her pussy was undergoing, and the muscles of her thighs clenched spasmodically on either side of Kingsford's voraciously slavering face.
Her husband's boss reached up over the smooth, flatness of her quivering belly, his fingers rolling the hardening nipples of her breasts with increasing passion. As his mouth and lips worked slavishly at the wide-splayed tightness of her cunt, his eyes watched in arrogant delight the contortions of her beautiful face. He was waiting, waiting as he had on the patio, for the signs of sexual surrender that this time would mean her total submission to him. And he was sure, as sure as he had been when he'd stalked into her bedroom, that they would soon be coming ...
The unexpected searing contact of his tongue with the sensitive softness of her pussy brought long low cries of anguish from Sally. Her lips bared back over her even white teeth as small goose bumps of unmistakable excitement rippled across her naked flesh. She sobbed pitifully before Kingsford's plundering kisses, and despite the horror at what she was being forced to accept from a man other than her husband, she could feel her body slowly begin to desert her. Her writhing buttocks were tilting upwards, thrusting her feverishly aroused cunt against his stabbing tongue, sending involuntary spasms of wanton delight coursing through her guilt-ridden mind.
Now her chanting mewl was changing to: "I can't be, I can't be ... " as the cruel realization that she was losing her control hit her with its full impact. Not only was she committing obscene adultery with Kingsford, a man she hardly knew, but even more frightening was the idea that she was actually starting to relish it! She clenched her teeth tightly in an effort to stifle the tiny, growing sparks that threatened at any moment to burst into uncontrollable flames of desire and incinerate her sensibilities. But it was a losing battle, her sinning simply too monstrous to be denied, and as Kingsford's hotly flicking tongue laved ceaselessly at her naked wet cunt below, her shamelessly aroused body throbbed in slow abandoned answers to his wicked lusts.
The long desperate fight within her tortured and confused mind lessened with every passing second, until finally the dam burst. Her hands curled down into his hair while a low, soul-stirring moan rose deep from within her chest. Thoughts of her husband, thoughts of her humiliation, thoughts of the depraved act she was allowing to be done to her they were all forgotten, dissipating along with her childish aversion to sex in any form, and being replaced by the delicious shafts of pleasure now piercing through her flesh like tiny prickling needles of fire.
Merle Kingsford sensed her submissive surrender, and with a savage grin, fucked his thick wet tongue faster and further into the quivering sheath of her vagina. She was his at last, he gloated, feeling her silken pubic hairs grazing tantalizingly against the tip of his nose and the sides of his cheeks as she ground her hips up in aslow, hypnotic rhythm. Yes, she was going to get fucked by him until she'd forgotten she'd ever had a husband! As long as she lived, she would never forget this evening with him!
The prostrate young wife squirmed and heaved under the maddening torture of Kingford's salaciously licking tongue until she thought the pounding of her heart would break through her chest. She groaned and gasped, her hands locking tightly behind his head and pulling his punishing mouth deeper into her heated loins, wanting his lewd perversion to go on forever ... And it seemed to her to continue in an eternity of abandoned sensation, when abruptly Kingsford stopped and forced his head up from the tight restrictive grasp of her hands.
He kneeled up over her throbbingly undulating thighs, and with the sublime contact of his lips and tongue now gone, Sally let her head fall back onto the carpet, sobbing away the despairing shame that came pouring through her mind again. She closed her eyes tightly to blot out the humiliating sight of herself sprawling obscenely under her husband's boss, the anguish and guilt she felt from the inexplicable weakness of her flesh coursing through her brain like a savage curse ... yet still her buttocks wouldn't stop their impatient grinding on the rug as they itched for more and deeper fulfillment. Oh God, what had he done to her? What had she done to herself? Her body was entirely out of control!
"Damn, you're a hot little bitch," Kingsford panted as he cruelly gazed down at her slim, bronzed loveliness, and at the ivory bands of "tiger-stripes" where her tiny bikini had been. His insatiable desire made his breathing hoarse, his chest heaving up and down in short, excited gasps. "I'm going to fuck you now, Sally, fuck you like you've never been fucked before in all your life! I'm going to make you hump and twist with this hard cock of mine in your cunt. I'm going to make you beg and scream to have me fill you up with my cum!"
Sally lay frozen with her thighs parted for him, moaning from the whip-lash of his obscene promises. Their very lewdness seemed to excite her still more, but still she tried to gather the remnants of her defenses and resist giving in mentally as well as physically to his bestial assault. Obviously, she couldn't stop him from raping her just like Stan had done earlier. He was going to ravish her helpless body no matter how she might plead with him not to, but dear God! She mustn't succumb as she just had while he'd been sucking her private genitals, allowing her flesh to betray her mind! She mustn't let him win control of her soul as well as her body! She mustn't ... !
And neither she or her unwanted lover heard the sharp intake of breaths from the two figures crouched in the darkness outside her living room window. Nor did they see the way the man of the couple was grinning at the woman with eager anticipation of what they were about to witness. Jake and Marge Carstairs choked back the insane desire to shout encouragement at the tops of their lungs and urge the stranger with Sally to sock it to her, and sock it good. Stan's blue-nosed wife wasn't so goddamned virtuous after all! It was all an act of hers, disguising her true nature that of a wanton slut who loved rutting naked on her living room carpet! Shit on a shingle, this was almost too good to be believed!
CHAPTER FIVE
Precious minutes before Jake and Marge Carstairs witnessed the plundered licking of Sally's vagina, they had been peacefully at home in the next-door half of the duplex house. Jake had been watching television, while Marge had just finished her "toilette", as she liked to describe the long soaking sessions in the bathtub, followed by the still longer periods in front of the mirror, fixing hair and nails and all the rest that goes with keeping a beautiful woman beautiful.
And Christ knows she's beautiful, Jake thought as he glimpsed her sashaying through the house wearing only her housecoat. He could still scarcely believe the sight and feel of her lushly ripened figure, despite the five exciting years they'd been married together. He'd been incredibly lucky to find and capture her, and even more fortunate that she understood his need for new and different sex partners on a constant basis. In fact, he'd been surprised by the way she'd jumped so eagerly into the "swinging set" he'd been participating in when they'd first met, and had felt more than one twinge of jealousy when he'd seen casual strangers skewering their long hard cocks into her willing pussy side-by-side with him while he fucked other women. He wasn't upset about it now, however, trusting her love and devotion for him above and beyond any momentary affair she might entertain. Actually, he suspected that their weekend sex parties were what kept the fucking between him and Marge so red-hot!
"Don't bother dressing," he called to her as she passed him. "No need to, not with what I've in mind."
She paused, one hand on her out-thrust hip as she smiled sensuously back at her husband. "And just what might be on your one-track mind, Jake?"
"First I'm going to get that bottle of whipped cream you've got left over in the refrigerator," he said, savoring his promising words. "Then I'm going to open a can of peaches and "
The phone rang, interrupting him.
"Never mind it," Marge purred, aroused by his prurient talk. She didn't care what he did to her tonight just so long as it eventually quenched the flaming passions she'd been storing up all day. The five years she'd been with Jake had been one endless round of ever-mounting sexual passion, but tonight for some strange reason she felt hotter and hornier than usual. She was ready for anything his lewd mind had to offer, and hearing about it beforehand only made eager arousal ripple faster up into her belly and loins. "Go on, tell me more."
"I'm going to have you lie down "
The phone rang again, insistently-
"and stuff your twat with the whipped cream, and then shove as many peach slices up inside there as I can, and maybe a strawberry or two if I can find them, and then I'm going to eat you out, the finest damn shortcake pie in the world, eat you right out until I've sucked every last peach and "
The phone cut in yet a third time, and now Jake couldn't dismiss it. "Shit!" he snarled at it, getting up and crossing to lift the receiver. "Yeah, who is it?"
Marge stood where she was, listening to Jake as he nodded his head and said: "Uh-huh ... You don't say ... No kidding ... Yeah, sure I will ...
Sure, I said I will, sure I will, don't worry, okay ... So long, kid, keep your pecker dry."
Hanging up, Jake turned to Marge and explained, "That was Stan. Seems the phone's out over at his house, and he's been trying to get hold of Sally for the past hour."
"I can't see why," Marge said cattily. "Might as well get an ice cube for all the good holding her does."
"Yeah, well, maybe so, but that's his tough tittie, not ours. Anyway, he called the phone company and they said it had to do with some problems with his exchange you know, he's on a different number exchange than we are, because they moved their phone from across town. So his doesn't work, ours does, and he wants us to trot a message over to her."
"Oh great. Just what we had in mind for tonight."
"Christ, Marge, it'll only take a second. I'll go do it myself, if you like, while you stay here."
"Not on your life, Jake Carstairs. You go over there and she'll invite you in for a cup of coffee or something, and because it's your brother's wife, you'll be too polite to refuse. And because it's female frigid female, but female nonetheless you'll want to have that cup of coffee if not more."
"Aw, Marge ... "
She smiled provocatively at her husband. "You'd screw a snake, if somebody held her tail for you, and don't try telling me different. I've seen how you're always looking Sally over like a prime side of beef, and if you thought you could get away with it, you'd give her a try and to hell with brother Stan."
Jake burst out laughing, knowing she was right. "Well, you would too, Marge dearest. Not that either of us could thaw Miss Snowbutt out."
"Just to make sure you make it snappy, I'm coming along. C'mon, let's get this over with so we can get back to this dessert you've been threatening me with."
He looked at his wife, eyebrows raised. "What? Dressed like you are?"
Exasperated, Marge pulled her house-robe tighter around her voluptuous body, retorting: "We're not planning to go out on the town, Jake. It's only across the backyard and through the hole in the hedge, and besides, it's night out there and dark."
He came over to her, nuzzling her golden wheat-colored hair and smelling her perfume. "Mmmmm, and that's right, I did tell you not to dress, didn't I?"
"You damn well did ... But you haven't told me the message."
"Oh, from Stan?" Holding Marge's arm, Jake steered her toward the back door of the house. "Oh, it was a little odd. Something about he was sorry and the car never made it to Rapier City so they won't be racing after all."
Marge shrugged her bare shoulders. "I suppose it means something to Sally. Ours is not to reason why."
They crossed the patio and backyard, reaching the high leafy hedge which separated the two properties. A small garden gate had been placed inconspicuously toward the rear, protecting each family's privacy while facilitating visits when wanted, and now with only the sliver of a new moon lighting their way, Jake and Marge lifted its latch and slipped through onto the other lawn.
"Careful," Marge cautioned, picking her path. "I'm barefoot, you know, and Stan isn't very good about the weeds."
"Well, the message wasn't all that important," Jake retorted. "You could've at least taken a minute to put on thongies."
"Nothing but the robe, Jake," Marge said smugly. "It'll be sure to bend Sally's nose to see me this way."
"You can be a damn vindictive little bitch when you want to be, can't you?" Jake chuckled, then swept out his arm, stopping his wife in her tracks. "Wait! What was that?"
"What was what?"
"Shhh! I heard something. Listen!"
After a second, Marge too heard some weird moans and sighs coming from the direction of her brother-in-law's house. "Television?" she suggested none too surely.
Jake shrugged. "I dunno. It could be, I suppose, there were some police shows on tonight. But it'd have to be on abnormally loud, because Stan's TV set is in his bedroom, remember?"
"With a wife like Sally, he probably has nothing better to do at night in bed," Marge said caustically. "You're right, though, and that noise is coming from the living room."
Curious, Jake and Marge moved closer across the lawn, and now the sounds were becoming more distinct.
"Please, Merle, oh please don't ... ! "It sounded like a woman, her voice drunkenly slurred in a desperate pleading tone Jake and Marge had never heard before. Marge clutched her husband, nestling closer to him in the darkness, but Jake was just as perplexed and anxious as she about what was going on.
"Well, that's Sally, alright," he whispered to Marge.
"But who's this Merle?" she asked. "And what's he doing to her? It sounds like he's hurting her somehow."
"I think we better find out," Jake decided. Taking a deep breath, and with his wife hugging onto his arm, he worked his way slowly and silently to the patio which opened out from the living room. He didn't have to warn Marge to be as quiet as she could; this was far too mysterious a situation for anything except the most cautious of approaches.
They tiptoed across the patio, past the table with its two empty glasses and the chair with Kingsford's suit jacket still hanging on its back. They glanced at the peculiarities, their curiosity increasing, then inched toward the living room window, which was uncurtained and afforded an entire view of the inside. There they hunkered down, parting the shrubbery growing at the base of the window so that they could peer into the dimly lit room.
And then they saw and both of them sucked in their breaths, cold chills running crazily up the full lengths of their spines!
There blatantly displayed on the carpet was Sally, with a strange man kneeling nakedly between her wide-spread legs. His head was moving obscenely up and down, and through the glass they could hear the wild sucking sounds of his mouth against her pussy. He was sucking her cunt! An absolute total stranger was chewing out brother Stan's supposedly frigid wife!
"Frigid, my ass!" Jake gasped as he watched spellbound.
"What a phony!" Marge hissed almost resentfully. "Always acting so damn pristine, and all the time getting hers on the side!"
"Poor Stan, to think of what he's missing ... " The proper and modest Sally Carstairs, Jake had always known was now an entirely different woman, and he stared bug-eyed at her willing ravishment, hypnotically frozen by its very lewdness.
"Even before, I bet," Marge said maliciously. "Remember he kept saying she was a virgin? Stan's probably just as wrong about that minor detail as he is about her being cold. What do you think we should do? Break in on her and the guy?"
"Hell, no." His gruff voice was thick with excitement, his eyes glued to the writhing contours of Sally's naked body on the carpet, fixing momentarily on her rose-tipped breasts which jutted upwards in their pert young fullness. Slowly his gaze moved down her sides to the gentle undulation of her flat tanned belly, then rolled over the curving rise of her supple hips until he was studying the black pubic curls where the man Sally kept calling "Merle" was hungrily licking.
"I ain't going to tell Stan anything either," Jake added. "Even if he is my brother, that's his lookout. If he's so damn blind to what his wife is really like, he sure as hell won't be grateful to us for opening his eyes to the truth."
"Stan is awfully jealous and possessive," Marge agreed. "No telling what he might do. Okay, so do we just leave them alone in there and go back to our fun and games?"
"Are you kidding? And miss this terrific show?" Jake glanced scoffingly at his wife, seeing the whiteness of her smoothly firm thighs where her robe had snaked open when she'd crouched. She was almost entirely exposed to the vee of her loins, and he could feel small beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead as he stared at the delicious fullness of her haunches.
Squatting close beside her, Jake turned back to watch Sally and the stranger, while one hand snaked across and began caressing his almost naked wife. He could hear Marge's breathing growing deeper and hotter as he massaged the perfect cheeks of her tautly protruding buttocks, circling each one in his cupping palms and running his fingers side by side down in between the sensitive crevice separating them. Simultaneously, he kept watching his sister-in-law with increased arousal, feeling his penis engorging into a hard, thick shaft as he contemplated how sweetly delicious her nubile young pussy would taste. Christ, it was too wild to resist!
"No, we'll watch," he whispered to Marge, moving quietly around so that he was kneeling directly behind his wife's hunching thighs. "We'll watch and fuck at the same time!"
"Oh! Oh, Jake, do we dare?"
He chuckled lewdly, slowly lifting her robe and bunching it around her waist. "Like you yourself said, honey, it's night out here and dark, and if we don't make a lot of noise, they'll never know the difference."
"Oh Lord, you're an incorrigible lecher!" she moaned, wriggling her fully exposed buttocks back against him. Tremors of prurient excitement rippled up into her belly as now his fingertips brushed teasingly over the small tight circle of her anus and further down to the soft, moistening lips of her vagina. She heard him gently undoing his belt and zipper, and felt him shift slightly while he shoved his pants down his legs with one hand, and then thoroughly entranced by the absolute depravity of his suggestion, she reached her own hand beneath her to fondle the bobbing rod of his naked erection. "Yes," she sighed deliriously, softly manipulating his hard cock. "Fuck me while we watch them."
Marge Carstairs could feel her husband's hands grip around her open thighs and the rubbery blunt head of his cock press into her from behind, while straining her eyes, she could view the warmly milking lips of Sally's cunt clasping around the stranger's tongue, and could hear the mews and groans of surrender becoming more desperate and needful ... Then abruptly the man called Merle stopped! Sucking in her breath, Marge and Jake froze in their lewdly hunching positions, fearing that somehow, someway, they had been discovered ...
But Merle was only levering up on his knees, his blood-rigid penis sliding evilly toward Sally's cringing pussy. Relaxing with relief, they heard him promise her: "I'm going to fuck you now, Sally, I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before in your life ... " And as the rest of his obscene taunts ricocheted through their venal minds, Marge arched her head around to glance knowingly at Jake, with her robe still wound around her slender waist, and her hand still clutching firmly around his prodding cock. "You too," she hissed passionately back at him. "No more teasing, Jake, you've driven me crazy with your hands and hot ideas now fuck me too, baby, fuck me like I've never been fucked before in my life!"
"Shhh!" Jake warned, pinching one buttock. "Shut up or they'll hear us for certain! And I wanna savor this just as much as you do ... ! "
"Oh no, oh God, no, not like this, not to me," they heard Sally sob up at the handsome older man, completely oblivious of the fact that her brother and sister-in-law were witnessing her shame and disgrace with salacious delight. Tears streamed in flowing rivulets down the sides of her cheeks, and in spite of her shame and anguish, she could only lie witlessly slack as Kingsford pulled her legs brutally wider and guided his hard throbbing penis into the wetly glistening lips of her cunt.
"Ohhhh," she gasped, feeling the first blunt pressure against the tight elastic opening of her vagina. He pushed harder.
"Ahhhh!" she mewled as his pulsating cock-head slipped inside, cruelly stretching the squeezing orifice until Sally felt as if her pelvis would fracture from the relentless pressure. God, he was so much larger than Stan! He was too large! He would kill her if he shoved his gigantic shaft all the way in!
"Noooo!" she wailed as she tried to burrow deeper into the rug and escape his inexorable onslaught. "No! You're hurting me, Merle! I can't take you, I can't!"
"Yes, you can," he laughed sadistically. "And you will!" Contemptuous of her tormented whimperings, Kingsford thrust his powerful hips forward, his thick cock sliding deeper into her painfully stretched cunt, shoving the soft moist flesh of her vaginal walls in rippling waves before it. There was no stopping him, not now not until with a loud groan bursting from his lips, his balls smacked heavily against the uptilted cheeks of her tight-clenched bottom.
"Oh! Oh Goddddd. . T she cried out beneath him, his massive erection enclosed in her moist warm sheath like a thick sword slicing cruelly up into its piteous victim's belly.
Kingsford lay still for a moment, his leer-contorted face directly over hers. Sally too lay still, afraid of the acute agony the slightest motion would certainly produce. Neither made a sound ... and then abruptly she felt his long solid penis throb malevolently deep up inside her as he flexed his loins and plunged yet another half-inch into her cringing pussy.
"Agggg," she grunted breathlessly, wincing from the sharp pain. "Aggg," she moaned once more as he tortured her by flexing again, and the tendons in her neck stood out from the pressure of his cockhead pushing against her cervix.
"Like it, Sally dear?" he grinned lewdly down at the pained expression on her face. "Of course, you do ... So tell me, Sally, tell me that you like it ... that you want it!"
"Ohhhh, no!" she prayed beneath him. "Don't make me!"
"Do it!" Kingsford throbbed his huge member deep inside her belly again. "Tell me to fuck you, Sally, tell me now!"
"God, nooo ... ! " She fought with all her strength and courage to escape this one final humiliation. This, she knew, would be the utter end of her pretenses. There would be no avoiding him ever again, for he had taken all else her pride, her chastity, her faithfulness to Stan as a loyal wife. She couldn't let this horrid man have the pleasure of hearing her beg, too! She couldn't!
... And avidly coupling dog-style outside the window, Jake and Marge Carstairs, watched Sally with obscene grins on their faces. "Fuck me," Marge panted as if in answer to Merle's lewd demand. Invitingly she wriggled her naked ass back against her husband, feeling him rub his turgid cockhead over her pussy lips, coating his penis with the moisture that was seeping out of her aroused vagina. "Jesus, Merle, stop teasing me! Fuck me!"
"Alright ... " Still grinning wickedly, her heavyset husband inched the tip of his blood-pulsing shaft upward toward her tightly clenched little anus, until it rested snugly against the hairless ring of her sphincter muscle. "Alright, Marge baby, and just like you wanted
in a special way!"
Through the heat of her passion, Marge realized what he was planning to do to her. "Wha
! Jake, wait!" she hissed in alarm. "Not there! You'll hurt me! I might cry out!"
"Don't!" he ordered her, short and simple, his big hands circling her waist, drawing her hard against him as his bloated cockhead wedged into the tightly wrinkled hole of her rectum. Oblivious to her sudden gasps of pain, he bored into her resisting rear passage, remembering how her anguished cries always turned to moans of ecstasy. Around his thick burrowing cock, he could feel the taunt inner flesh of her anus expanding to receive his throbbing male erection, stretching forcefully around his unyielding penis.
Marge, as well, remembered how much she had enjoyed being sodomized on other occasions, and bravely she tried to stifle her groans of agony as the fleshy cock continued to penetrate deeper and deeper up into her cruelly widened anal canal. For a moment, the tormented blonde was positive she was going to faint from the pain. But then, as Jake's loins crushed heavily against her naked buttocks and he began to piston his wide shaft in and out of her expanding backsides, the torment began to gradually recede, leaving in its wake a kindled blaze of erotic fire flaming in her belly.
"It's so big," she panted heatedly, "but fuck me, Jake, fuck me in the ass ... ! " Then she snickered, not loudly or harshly, not desiring to spoil the corrupting scene in the living room. "And fuck her too, you white-haired bastard," Marge urged in a whispered curse. "Damn you, fuck her too ... ! "
Kingsford flexed his full extent inside young Sally's burning cunt, "Say it!" he commanded, digging his fingers into the softness of her shoulders. "Beg me to fuck you!"
"Ohhh," Sally sobbed, her resistance broken by her pain and subjugation. "D-Do it to me, Merle, do it to me."
"Not like that," he snarled. "Say, fuck me!"
"Ohhhh, fuck me!" she whined through clenched teeth, tears gushing from her eyes as she spat out the lewd desire. Her degradation was now complete, and she would never be the same again. She had allowed herself to lose control over all the things she knew were right and decent, and now she wished she were dead. She could never face Stan again with the innocence and righteousness she had before.
"Yes ... fuck me, Merle, fuck me good ... "she drawled in a dazed, mournful tone. There was nothing left for her, not even forgiveness. Nothing but the huge fleshy penis buried deep inside her betraying pussy. She was a whore now, nothing but a gutter slut! " Fuck mmeeeee ... ! " And even as she bawled out the obscenity, somewhere deep in her craven mind a small voice cried out in exaltation. This was what she was, and since she could never hope for salvation again, there was nothing to stop her from thoroughly groveling in her sinful lusts!
Merle Kingsford sensed the last remaining ounce of resistance leave her soul, and hearing her anguished plea, he clamped his wet lips over her mouth and began a slow rocking motion between her trembling young thighs. He could feel her tight little cunt widening slightly with each smooth stroke as she groaned in helpless defeat beneath him. It wouldn't take long to turn this nubile wife into a raw, squealing mass of wantonness, he felt assured; for even though she had fought his earlier advances and had been the picture of pure chastity, true to her husband in thought as well as deed, he'd detected a latent hot streak in her that had just never been turned on before. Well, he'd make sure she got really turned on tonight, and he could think of nothing finer than having a wild young bitch like her available so he could sneak over and get a little extra fucking now and then when her husband wasn't home.
Sally's body began to involuntarily respond. There was no longer any reason to fight the guilt-ridden flames of desire that were coursing through her veins. She had lost the battle against her obscene feelings, and even the agonizing thought of her total surrender sent wickedly arousing chills twitching along her nerves and muscles. She felt the slow pulsating tempo of Kingsford's hard cock skewering wetly up into her rapidly awakening pussy, and low hums of servile acceptance came in sudden pleading abandonment from her straining chest.
Kingsford slipped his hands down under her hips, eager to cup the softly fleshed cheeks of her writhing buttocks and jerk her harder up to his loins. He felt her frantically pulling her sleek thighs back wider, making the moistly warm hole of her yearning cunt flower open yet further to receive his thrusting penis to greater and greater depths. The pain of entry was gone now, and her legs on either side of his impaling shaft were twitching lewdly with uncontrolled reaction. The shamefully aroused wife's eyes were closed, and her tongue worked and slavered up into his mouth as small mewing noises of capitulation rumbled from her constricted throat. There was no longer any thought of fighting the immoral sensation of lying beneath this handsome barbaric man who was fucking her against her will. She would give back to him pleasure equal to the hellish joy he was giving her ...
Throughout Sally's dissipation, Jake and Marge kept their eyes glued to the living room, capturing every erotic second of the lust-inciting fucking. Jake's large hands were moving around his wife's slender waist, down her flat little belly and into the juncture of her willingly spread thighs. He could feel her quivering as his stiffened middle finger dipped up into her lust-swollen vagina, pressing against the thin membrane that separated her pussy from the rigid shaft of his penis sinking repeatedly into the depths of her rectum. The tight grip of her anal opening around his hotly pumping cock was driving him crazy, and he hammered into her belly faster and harder, feeling her gyrate the twin mounds of her buttocks back against his invading erection in mute testimony to the lewd desires rampaging through her.
"Fuck my ass," she babbled deliriously. "Oh, fuck my ass, baby, fuck it, fuck it, fuck it ... ! "
His undulating wife's impassioned words only drove him on in a wilder frenzy of lust, and Jake began kneading the soft flesh of her hips, pulling her nakedly squirming backsides harshly against his driving penis. He could feel her shivering from the advancing tide of her nearing orgasm, and knew that he as well was fast approaching his own explosive climax as he fucked into her rectum deeper and deeper, and watched his sister-in-law being savagely raped by the stranger inside ...
Muffled through the window came the passionate whimpers of Sally, her angelic face distorted by her malefic desires. "Fuck, fuck, fuck ... ! " she repeated over and over while Kingsford quickened his stroke, grinding hard and deep so that his massive hardness bored far up into the hidden, untouched recesses of her welcoming cunt. Her softly fleshed breasts heaved and quaked up against the pressure of his chest, their hardened nipples digging into him like buttons on a coat.
"I ... I'm going to ... to cum!" the abandoned young wife started squealing, completely astounded by the fact that for the first time in her life, she would experience a climax through intercourse. "Yessss ... I'm cuummmmmiuiiiinngggg...! "
Kingsford felt her heatedly clasping pussy opening all around his pistoning cock, and he thrust faster, digging his hard penis up even deeper inside her rippling belly, wanting her to remember this forever, and working to make it true. He felt Sally jerking up toward him spontaneously, the quivering lips of her vagina squeezing and sucking at his fleshy shaft as if trying to milk it. Her breath was coming in short, desperate groans now as his thick erection expanded, throbbed once, then suddenly began spurting a torrent of white hot sperm far up into her gratefully receiving womb. Their juices flowed and mingled in a volcanic pool of bliss and passion, resulting in a wildly intense satisfaction Sally had never before known existed.
On the patio, Jake and Marge were entranced with every instant of Sally's orgasm. They could hear her groans above the grunting breaths of the man skewering into her, and could see creamy semen cascading out around the pink moist lips of her vagina, running down the wide crevice of her splayed buttocks and puddling on the carpet. Obscene thrills of empathy surged through them, both dreaming in their devious minds of somehow being in that room with her, a part of her, joining and blending in a sensuous meld of flesh and cum. For one delirious moment, Jake felt as if his own penis was buried in his sister-in-law's aching cunt, his sperm boiling up out of his distended testicles and flowing forcefully into the depths of Marge's greedy rectum.
A sobbing cry of release choked in his wife's throat as his squirting climax shook her body into its own skyrocketing eruption. She screwed her heaving buttocks back against his ejaculating cock and felt her entire body explode from the impact of her orgasm, heedless of his sperm overflowing her anus and trickling down the convulsing slit of her uptilted vagina. She knelt there, trembling like a winded mare, as their orgasms slowly faded and his virile hardness grew soft within her stretched anal passage.
"Christ, oh Christ that was wonderful," Marge sighed as her husband began pulling his deflated cock out of her ass with a lewd sucking sound.
"Shhh," Jake cautioned again, pressing a finger to her saliva-moistened lips. "They're finished inside too, y'know."
"You think so?" she whispered wryly. "I don't. I think Sally has just barely begun."
"Yeah ... " Smiling with satisfaction, Jake sat down on the patio, his arms around his knees. "I can't help envying that guy, Marge if you know what I mean."
"Uh-huh," she murmured, collapsing beside him and nuzzling his drawn-up legs. "Maybe we can do something about that, if you're game. We haven't had a nice simple threesome for a few months."
"If I'm game!" Jake snorted. "Just thinking about paying that snooty cunt back for all her snubs at us is making me hard again." He gazed at his wife, a new light gleaming wickedly in his dark eyes, and sharing with Marge a grin of mutual understanding. "You're a sex maniac, you know that?"
"Mmmmm ... And don't you just dig it, lover," Marge cooed, feeling his big hand coming up slowly to caress the warm firm mound of her left breast ...
Meanwhile in the living room, Sally Carstairs was lying immobile under the flaccid weight of her husband's boss. She could feel his penis slowly deflating inside her cum-flooded belly, and felt her vagina throbbing and abused as it never had been before. She wanted to close her legs and rest the ache which was forming there, but Kingsford was enjoying his brutal and complete conquest of her proud young body and was in no hurry to withdraw from its warm wet interior. She lay passively, afraid that to plead with him or move from underneath would only serve to excite him again and cause his thick huge penis to harden once more deep inside her. Instead she stared up past his relaxed shoulder, studying the ceiling through dulled, waxen eyes and feeling her flesh beaten, bruised, and thoroughly satiated.
Yet even though a sated euphoria glowed within her, the tremendous passions of only moments before were slowly receding, and her mind was gradually returning to sanity. Well, she'd been fucked, and fucked damn well, surrendering her body to yet another debasing rape, and becoming the unholy cesspit for more infernal cum. Merle Kingsford had mercilessly seduced her, forcing her to submit to his carnal lusts, and she had liked it. Oh God, she had loved it! Waves of guilt poured through her, along with temporarily forgotten pangs of remorse and self-loathing, as with deep humiliation she had to admit that it was true that she had reveled in their wicked depravity so much that she'd actually reached a climax. She began to feel a deep despair, a mental anguish born of a new resolve that what she'd allowed to happen must never, never take place again, and a wretched fear that it was already too late ...
After a long tormenting moment, Merle finally stirred above her. Sally gasped out a sigh of relief as she felt his limp penis slowly withdrawing from her ravaged vagina, a cool rush of air flowing over her sweaty nakedness and sperm-coated loins as he rose to his feet and smiled down at her.
"You're a fine fuck," he said cheerfully. "See? I told you so. I told you that-once you let yourself go, you'd fuck like a mink."
"Oh Lord," Sally groaned in mortification, slowly, painfully pulling her naked body up from the matted carpet. God! To Merle, she'd been nothing but a fine fuck, but he could very well mean ruin to her marriage, to everything she ever held dear and sacred for the rest of her life!
"Where're you going?" he asked her.
"To ... my room, to dress," she answered dully.
"What? Why? Merle asked, with genuine puzzlement in his voice. "Didn't you like it, Sally?"
"Of ... course I did." How could she deny it after the way she had so lewdly welcomed his debauchery?
"Next time will even be better," Merle promised proudly.
"There won't be a next time," she replied, cold and stern, flinching then as she heard Kingsford laugh teasingly. "I mean it, I really do. There won't be another time, Merle Mister Kingsford there can't be!"
"And why not, my dear Missus Carstairs?"
"Because!"
"That's no reason," he sneered. "Because why?"
She stood trembling and chagrined, not knowing how to answer, or even if she had the strength. Instinctively she realized that to unburden her true emotions to this lecherous older man would only give him another lever by which to force her to submit once again ... and again ... The thought of having to go through the obscene surrendering of her flesh and spirit again made her cringe with horror. She'd never be able to redeem herself if that happened, and mutely she faced Kingsford, hoping he would leave without subjecting her to further indignities.
"Why!" he demanded instead, cynicism and mockery gnarling his features as he stepped toward her. "Tell me why!"
The answer came from the patio door. "Because I'm here now, that's why!"
The naked couple stiffened in shock, and Sally felt her heart sink as she pivoted and saw Jake barging into the room. His deep gruff voice resounded like the crack of doom, a ghastly tremor of fear and desolation sweeping through her. It was the end, the utter end of everything, being discovered compromised in her own house by her husband's brother, and she wished the floor would open up and swallow her in the hell she so richly deserved.
CHAPTER SIX
"Jake!" Sally moaned in mortification. "It's you!"
"Damned right, it's me, you fucking tramp!" he barked, belligerently stomping closer, feigning rage and indignation which at heart was so shallow he feared she might see through his act. "And who's this old turkey, eh? If he's Stan, he sure as hell has done some changing lately!"
"I ... I can explain "
"A picture's worth a thousand words," he interrupted her feeble plea. "Believe me, you two make the perfect picture."
"L-Listen," Kingsford attempted to bluff in his "hand-me-the-Calhoun-folder" executive voice, "It's not what this appears, young man. It's all perfectly legitimate, I assure you, which is more than I can say for bursting in this house unannounced like some breaking-and-entering thief."
"More like a brother," Jake retorted, and curled his thick hand into a ham hock fist. "Brother Jake Carstairs, only living relative of Stan Carstairs, to whom I'm deeply devoted. That gives me the right, especially when his wife is fooling around."
Even Kingsford blanched now, back from the threatening intruder and smiling sickly in the face of Jake's fearsome scowl. "Ah ... yes, I see. But I'm sure this can all be worked out satisfactorily. No need for violence, Jake. Jake was your name? Yes, ah ... Jake, as a man of the world, you can understand "
"I understand that if you're not out of here in thirty seconds, you're going to be carried out on a stretcher."
"Of course, of course," Kingsford nodded, and profusely sweating, he hustled down the hall, clambering as fast as he could into his pants and shirt. "A misunderstanding, is all. A terrible misunderstanding," he kept explaining frantically.
Jake turned back to Sally, whose face was pale and strained. She blushed under his frank perusal of her naked flesh, and futilely tried to cover her body with her hands and arms.
"A little late for modesty, isn't it?" Jake sneered caustically. "If I hadn't happen to come over to see Stan, God knows what would have been going on here right now. There's only one kind of woman who'd cheat so blatantly on her husband a whore! You've turned my brother's house into a brothel."
"No, no please ... " Sally moaned under the lash of Jake's stinging contempt. "It was only an accident ... It never happened before, Jake, you've got to believe me ... "
"I believe what I see," he spat, and pointed toward Kingsford, who was hurrying back into the living room now. "I see him, Sally, that's what I see. And if I see him in another five seconds, he's going to see five knuckles in his eyes."
"But my jacket," the now thoroughly cowed Kingsford said, gesturing toward the patio door behind Jake. "My jacket is out there. I'll just go get it and "
"No!" Jake snarled, shaking his head. "Out, you. Just get out. No jacket, no more nothing."
"But my wallet, my money ... "
A cruel smirk played on Jake's lips now. "I'll send your jacket and wallet back, mister. The money ... Well, consider that her price, just like you'd have to pay any other hustling bitch. Cheap, too. It'd be damn more expensive if Stan ever found out about this, wouldn't it?"
"No, please, don't tell Stan!" Sally cried, and almost in a chorus was Kingsford's own supplication. "Don't tell her husband, that'd only make matters worse!"
Piously Jake lowered his head. "It'd break his heart."
Kingsford moved toward the front door, glancing helplessly at Sally. "Talk to him," he pleaded. "Make sure he does the sensible thing, Sally, we don't want to stir up any sort of fuss over this. I've a position to maintain, you know. Oh, the scandal ... If my wife ever heard, oh Jesus ... "
"Your wife!" Sally blurted. "You told me you were a widower! You lied to me, just to get my sympathy!"
But Kingsford was already gone, the door slamming closed on her stunned exclamation. Sally turned her eyes back to Jake, swaying slightly and fearing she would faint with abject shame, cowering under the malevolent stare of her husband's gross brother. But in Jake's gaze was a glitter, a spark of something baser than mere condemnation, and reading that malicious glare, Sally thought for one horrified instant of how Stan had looked the same way at her when he'd come across the bed to rape her.
"I ... I'm sorry," she whispered. "You're right, Jake, it would kill Stan to learn of what I've done, but it couldn't make me any sorrier than I am already."
"Being sorry can't repay anything," he rebuked.
"The money ... There's whatever money Merle has in his wallet," she offered in a hushed, frightened tone. "If that's not enough, I've got a little, not much, but I "
"Shut up," he cut in scornfully. "I'll keep his dough, sure, but I don't want any from you. No, there're other assets you can buy my silence with that'll be far more satisfying, particularly considering the nature of the secret."
Sally gaped open-mouthed at Jake, unable for a moment to pull her shattered thoughts together. Then it became grotesquely clear to her what he had in mind: he wanted to subvert her, to humiliate and ravish her just like Kingsford had done! His alleged concern for Stan was pure bunk! It was painfully obvious that the notion of fucking his brother's wife was only making his obscene bargain that much sweeter to his warped mind! And there was nothing she could do to stop him. Nothing! Sally feared she would be sick on the spot, as she realized that ultimately she'd have to give in to him, her stomach nauseous at the mere speculation of absorbing this brutal penis and suffering the sordid sensations of illicit lovemaking once again.
"Not you now, too," she moaned in despair, her naked body trembling fearfully, her exposed flesh breaking out in a cold sweat of goose bumps. "I can't let you, Jake, I can't let you, too."
"What choice do you have?" he replied smugly, his glistening lips shining as he licked them expectantly. "You will be fucked one way or the other, the only question is how. You're already a ruined woman in one sense, Sally, so it's just a matter of whether you want me and Marge to fuck you up by telling Stan, and ruining you that way for the rest of your life."
"You and ... Marge?" Sally gasped.
"I thought you'd never call," a sultry feminine voice answered from the darkened patio.
Startled, Sally turned from Jake and saw his stunning blonde wife strolling in wearing nothing but a thin house robe, swinging a small object by its strap in one hand. Sally was so disturbed and frightened by this new entry, that she failed to grasp the significance of what Marge was carrying a new Poloroid SX-70 flash camera. Her anguished eyes were riveted on her sister-in-law as Marge set the camera aside on a table and deftly shrugged out of the robe, to stand magnificently nude, her creamy white skin glowing in the warm light of the living room.
"That was quick thinking," Marge said to Jake, walking slowly closer now, her full swelling breasts swaying gently. "If that fellow had gone outside to get his suit jacket, he'd have seen me crossing the patio from our house." She laughed throatily. "You buffaloed him so badly, I'm surprised he didn't piss in his pants."
For a moment, Sally felt as though she were losing her mind, and then indignantly she balled her hands into fists, suddenly comprehending the full extent of their intentions. It was loathsome enough to be blackmailed into giving her body to her husband's brother, but to be extorted into submitting to Jake's smirking wife that was simply too much to accept! What sort of person did they think she was?
"No, no I can't allow this!" she gasped, a ghostly tremor rippling through her as she stared atone and then at the other of the two in-laws. "Get out of here, both of you!" she screamed at them. "Get out before I. . it ... "
"Before you what?" Marge asked cynically.
"Oh, we'll go," Jake said with an evil grin. "If that's really what you want us to do, Sally, that's what we'll do."
"I do! I do!"
"But if we do, we'll make sure that Stan learns you're an adultress. We can prove it, too; we've got that guy's jacket and identification, don't forget. How would you like my brother to find out about it, eh? And naturally, if you tried to tell him about our little proposal, who do you think he'd believe us, or his unfaithful wife?"
Sally's brain whirled from the humiliation of listening to this vile, depraved man's lewd threats. Tears of shame and anguish flowed down her unblemished cheeks that were now a chalky white, her senses benumbed and dazed. It snapped then, the spontaneous bursting in her head that crashed the utter reality of what was happening to her down over her with splintering force.
"Oh you bastard!" Sally yelled in reeling anger and hatred. She shuddered with rage, and lashed out her right hand, striking Jake smartly across his face with the flat of her palm. The blow resounded through the room, and for an instant Jake staggered backwards, stunned.
"Ow!" Jake shouted, instantly recovering and drawing the back of his hand across his burning cheek. "Why you little bitch," he snarled vengefully, cold anger glinting in his eyes like shards of ice. "You little prick-teasing bitch, I'll teach you to hit me."
"Wh-what are you ... ? " Sally started to whimper, then sucked in her breath, choking back a high-pitched scream as she saw Jake unlooping his leather belt from his pants.
"I'll teach you a lesson," he continued to rasp out, folding the belt menacingly in half and switching it experimentally. "You've been needing a lesson for some time, all so hoity-toity and stuck up, like your cunt was solid platinum and too good for the-likes of Stan or for us." He snapped the belt through the air before Sally could protect herself, its flailing leather striking her across the right breast with well-placed aim.
"Ooooowa, oooowa!" Sally shrieked, the sharp, savage pain of the belt lancing through her sensitive breast. She jerked in a dance of agony, hearing the whistle of the belt again and then the searing blow against her thigh, the strap curling around and blistering her buttocks in the process. "Arrggh! Stop!"
"Carrying on like some virgin queen!" Jake raved at her, hitting her yet a third time with lust and resentment. More than anything else he wanted to break this proud, stubborn woman's willpower and have her come crawling to him, begging for mercy. "And you were lying, you slut, you whore, you cunt!"
"Stop it! Oh, stop it! I'll do anything! Anything." Sally shrilled, the spearing pain of his leather whipping sending her crumpling to the carpet, where she rolled and writhed in a futile attempt to evade his sadistic attack.
"Of course you will!" Jake laughed cruelly, bringing the looped tip of his belt down against the tender flesh of her inner thighs, transmitting ripples of shock and agony up through her sensitive pussy. "You will and you'll love it!"
"Yes! Yes, I'll love it!" she screeched, absolutely beside herself as his brutal lashings of her whole naked body continued. She huddled and twisted in mindless torment, while Jake stood spread-legged over her, flicking the merciless belt down on her breasts, her vaginal crescent, her flame-reddened buttocks in a crisscross pattern of blows, laughing louder and harsher as her lithe flesh cringed and jiggled haplessly. "Fuck me! Suck me! Do what you want, but stop this! Stop?'
Marge placed her hand on Jake's arm just as he was raising it for yet another swing, stilling him with a smooth, mocking suggestion: "Yes, Jake, don't you think she's had enough of this? We don't want to mark her up, after all."
"Yeah," he panted, flinging the belt aside. "Yeah, you're right, Marge. We don't want Stan to find out, do we? For her sake, that is, strictly for her sake."
Sally huddled in throbbing pain, openly weeping as she stared with blurred eyes up at her torturer. His beltless trousers hung slack around his heavy-breathing paunch, but were stretched to their limit at his groin, which, bulged out with his giant erection. A small groan hissed through her clenched teeth, and she averted her eyes, studying now her smarting body cowering beneath his looming figure. She gritted her teeth in secret defiance, even though her firm young thighs and rounded buttocks were flinching in fear from the expectation of further whippings and of his obviously hard, thick penis that soon would be mauling her defenseless vagina. But if it meant the chance of saving her marriage, she would somehow find the strength to live through this, too. She was no better, no better at all than what he'd called her, and she deserved his slashing punishment. This was retribution for having been unfaithful to Stan, and retribution is never kind or pleasant.
The conquered, misery-laden wife braced herself for the assault to come. But it was Marge, rather than Jake, who first approached her, sitting down alongside and gently caressing the livid welts which her husband's belt had raised. "Relax," she murmured seductively to Sally.
"Relax and don't snivel, from now on it'll all feel good. You won't be sorry. I enjoy a worn an once in awhile, and I know you'll like it as much as Jake-likes to watch. You'll be glad, not sorry, you'll see ... "
Sally's body felt heavy with outrage and despair as she forced herself to lie passively silent while the voluptuous blonde woman began to softly massage the curves of her naked breasts. like a bird mesmerized by a snake, Sally could do nothing but stare in mounting aversion as Marge's face moved closer and closer to her own, until moist red lips pressed down hotly against her own unwilling mouth.
"Hurry up," Jake said loudly to his wife. "Hurry up and get her going, because this ol' cock of mine isn't about to wait much longer! This is wilder than watching her being sucked and fucked by that stranger!"
A new wave of crippling shame washed over Sally as she heard his foul words. They'd been watching the entire time just waiting for the moment when they could bust in and toss Kingsford out on his ass, and set to work on her themselves! She knew she should be infuriated by their duplicity, but at the moment she was starting to be aware of tingling sensations that were beginning to well up in her own perversely betraying body. As her lips were pushed apart by the pressure of Marge's demanding little tongue, Sally felt a warm teasing feeling begin against her will, deep in her belly. The prodding wet tip of tongue darted tantalizingly into the cavern of her mouth, and Sally quivered in distraught, involuntary response.
"See? You're liking it already," Marge cooed as she lifted her lips from Sally's mouth. "I can't wait to taste that tight little hole of yours. That fellow seemed to like it so much!"
Sally blushed at the reminder of her guilt, but the other woman barely noticed. Her golden blonde hair was already slipping dfwn over Sally's shoulders as her head dipped lower, her warm lips traveling over Sally's breasts, exploring the velvet-fleshed mounds with exuberant delight.
Sally's breath quickened, and Marge laughed low and throaty as she noted her involuntary reaction. "Better take your clothes all the way off this time, Jake," she advised her husband. "Our sister-in-law's turning on so fast, I'm hot going to be able to handle her alone."
Sally's mouth went dry with apprehension as she saw Jake unzipping his trousers. A spasm of revulsion toward this lewdly grinning man cooled her own budding ardor for Marge as she watched his thick fingers grasping his shirt, and she recalled his evilly snickering threats, feeling almost sick again at the prospect of surrendering to him. But she had brought this all on herself! Her own ungoverned lust had led her into the hands of these two sex fiends and now, ironically, she was certain to have more action than she would have ever bargained for. As Jake's piggish eyes bored into her nakedly defenseless flesh, the sorrowful wife felt more vulnerable and helpless than ever before on this hellish night. Once again, her mortification overcame her, and she tried desperately to cover her body with her hands.
"Oh, don't hide any of that luscious body from me," Marge protested softly. "I want to see it and love it all over. I'm going to make you feel like you've never felt before."
Once again, Sally's firmly jutting breasts began rising and falling more rapidly as Marge gently trailed her long, lacquered nails over the soft inviting curves of her breasts. She pushed Sally's hands aside to tenderly pluck at the rosy nipples, then her skillful fingers descended over the flat plane of her belly to trail through the semen-matted hair of her pubic mound. Then, just as Sally was beginning to surrender to the knowing touch of Marge's hotly seeking fingers, Jake finished undressing and padded nakedly in front of them, his arms folded over his hairy chest. Sally made a whimpering mewl as she stared upward at his revolting exhibitionism, his fearsome shaft of swollen manhood spearing ominously from his loins.
"You should touch her," Sally heard Marge tell her husband. "Her skin's like silk and she's eager already."
"She's not the only one," Jake growled as he hunkered beside his wife and sister-in-law. Lips twisting into a passionate leer, he began running his pudgy hands greedily over both women's warm sensuous bodies, his eyes feasting glouttonsly on their complimentary beauty. His spatulate fingers drifted down over their bellies, to press into their soft curls of pubic hair, finally parting the sperm-slickened vaginal lips to toy with her swelling clitoris.
"By the time we finish with you," Marge murmured to Sally, "you're going to be so hot that you won't care who's fucking what or how."
Lustful sparks gleamed in the blonde's wide blue eyes as she suddenly hunched on her knees on the thick carpet in front of Sally's trembling young body. Cupping Sally's smooth white buttocks in her hands, Marge began planting moist fleeting kisses over the sensitive inner flesh of her thighs, working slowly upward toward the hair-fringed slit of her pussy.
Sally couldn't help denying the sharp thrill of forbidden pleasure that spiraled through her loins as Marge's hot breath brushed across her tingling cuntal valley. She looked down between her aching breasts and watched in horror as the lovely blonde's face pressed into the fleshy crevice between her thighs, the softness of her sister-in-law's mouth now agonizingly close to where Merle Kingsford had so recently sucked ... and fucked. And already she could sense her own body's intuitive, passionate response to this perverted act, once having been turned on to oral lovemaking by a man, and now reheating to a fiery desire as a seducer of her own sex began corrupting her flesh the same way.
"No ... no ... " she moaned shakily. "It's wrong ... It's doubly wrong, Marge, for you to do this to me ... "
Oblivious to her feeble pleas, the crouching woman parted the moistly clinging lips of Sally's vagina until even the tiny bud of her clitoris was exposed to view. Pressing her face into the triangle of Sally's pubic hair, she began sucking eagerly on the rosy nub while her fingers tightly gripped the spasmodically cringing cheeks of her buttocks. Sally moaned and trembled in growing sensation while Marge tongued deeper and faster, licking the sensitive pink flesh and tasting Sally's involuntary secretions along with Kingsford's drying ejaculations.
"Delicious ... " Marge sighed in muffled tones. "Your lover must've eaten lots of celery, Sally, his cum is so sweet."
"Give her hell, honey," Jake urged his wife, straightening to watch the full panorama of the obscene spectacle on the rug. He gaped hungrily at the lewd sight of his wife tongue-fucking the frightened wife of his brother, stroking his massive blood-hardened cock in anticipation of the greater delights yet to come. "Give her hell while I take some pictures!"
Sally barely heard his ribald comments, feeling as if she were falling under some sort of sinister spell, her mind fading away from her in the rush of perverted arousal that was mounting inexorably in her loins. Her mind a jumble of conflicting emotions, she raised her head to helplessly watch Marge slavering wetly against her passion-flushed cunt, licking and sucking at her hotly moistened slit with furious passion.
Though her mind struggled to recall her feelings of humiliation and anger, Sally's body shuddered with raw excitement as Marge's searing tongue darted in and out of her throbbing crevice like a burrowing lizard. Shocks of uncontrolled pleasure followed the path of the blonde's skilled lips, and Sally found her nakedly aroused body responding with a passion even greater than it had when Kingsford had laved her into submission. Never in her life had she thought of making love with another woman, but now she was rapidly losing all control of her emotions as a flicking female's tongue delved thrillingly into her wetly secreting flesh. She would hate herself even more than she did already when at last this was over, but for now ... now nothing seemed to matter seeingthe feverish reality of Marge's probing tongue tunneling deeply up into her lust-tortured cuntal furrow.
Arching her back, the confused wife shamelessly thrust her tingling pussy up against her sister-in-law's face, frantically trying to quell the searing hot lashes of desire that were burning through her quivering loins. "Oh my God, don't stop ... yes, lick my pussy," she sobbed passionately, her clenching buttocks undulating in slow grinding circles.
As Marge licked and sucked at the twitching wet cunt before her face, her husband stepped to the table where the camera was, picking it up and adjusting its focus for a close-up. Only dimly was Sally aware of the bright flashes of light around her, or of Jake's hoarsely croaking directions to his wife.
"Marge, tilt to one side so I can get a good one of your tongue up her twat!"
Marge immediately obeyed, never pausing in her saliva-drenching seduction, but moving her head just enough so that Jake could angle the camera to catch every lewdly gleaming detail of her hungry mouth nibbling on Sally's eager cunt.
"Now look up at the lens," Jake ordered next, changing his viewpoint so that he could catch not only his wife but the anguished face of his sister-in-law as well. "That's it ... Now, use your finger ... Right! Jesus, these pics will be classics!"
Flash! Flash! And as fast as he clicked the camera, Jake would slip to a new position, tearing off the finished picture and setting it aside to automatically develop.
"Squat over her now, honey," he commanded urgently, knowing he couldn't hold back much longer, as exciting as the picture might be. "Quick! Turn around and straddle her so she can lick your cunt, too!"
"Mmmmmm!" Marge willingly agreed, twisting her body around and lifting it high so that one leg could clear Sally's breasts. Then settling lower, she continued hunching with her mouth nibbling tempestuously at Sally's inflamed vagina, while she positioned her jutting buttocks directly above her passion-contorted face.
"Okay, Sally, now suck my wife's twat!"
"Noo!" the strangled sound tore from Sally's lips in a piteous protest against what was being asked of her.
Jake hovered over her, his features once again congealing into a mask of vengeful contempt. "You sluttish bitch! Do what I tell you or I'll fix your wagon! I'll fix it good! Now start eating out Marge's cunt!"
A tortured sob burst from Sally's supine body, but she hesitantly began kissing Marge's thighs, snaking her tongue out and hearing a muffled sob of desire from the blonde woman enveloping her from above. She felt the electric contact of Marge's fiery wet probes against her own violently quivering clitoris, felt it lick molten swatch from the hardening bud down through the soft moistness of her fleece-lined cuntal lips, and she shivered in helpless protest and unwanted passion.
Tentatively she licked higher along Marge's satiny thighs, nearer to the wide-splayed crevice of the other woman's uptilted vagina, ripples of self-loathing, fear, shame, and sensuality all coursing through her at the same time. She didn't wish this yet she was part of it now, against her will but unable to stop it, and there was no denying the fact it felt good. Or, as with Merle Kingsford, was her complete entrapment allowing her the freedom to rut in her licentious emotions? She didn't know, and increasingly she didn't care as Marge's tongue slid deeper and hotter into her acquiescing cunt. As if possessed of a will of their own, her thighs parted and she pressed her naked loins upward, giving her sister-in-law greater access to her throbbing pussy, and she in turn entangled her lips and mouth and hands up into the rich golden strands and the pink swelling flesh of Marge's vaginal orifice above her face.
I'm kissing another woman between her legs! Sally's tortured mind screamed. I'm a sinner, an unregenerate lesbian sinner who'll burn in hell forever for this wicked perversion ... Yet then, as if in defiance to her thoughts, her head plunged higher and buried itself thoroughly in the moist, pulsing furrow, while in return, she received the laving caresses of Marge's sensuous mouth working between her own splayed thighs.
Jake was continuing to snap picture after picture of their oral fucking. As he clicked his camera, Sally thrust her pelvis higher, pressing her hair-lined pussy tighter against his wife's softly sucking lips, and Marge squatted lower to wantonly grind her hungry cunt against the ovaling mouth that was licking the entirety of her wide-spread vaginal crevice with uninhibited passion. He captured in full color his wife's roundly undulating buttocks, and Sally's enraptured expression as she flicked her wet pink tongue along the blonde pubic thatch from
Marge's hardened clitoris to the puckered hole of her anus. He knew by the look on Sally's lust-contorted face that his sister-in-law was straining to reach her climax, and realized that unless he wanted to be left out, he'd have to act quickly.
"Baby, baby," he hissed down at his wife, placing the camera aside, "swivel back the way you were now so I can ride her awhile. Her lips are too much to resist!"
Marge responded like the professional she was, even though her saliva-coated vagina was begging for its own release. Desperately Sally tried to pull her female lover back down against her nibbling mouth as she felt her orgasm hovering just beyond her reach. "Oh God, come back, come back please," she pleaded urgently, and as if in some kind of responsiveness, Marge redoubled her own fevered task on Sally's arching cunt. "Ohhhh," she sobbed, writhing while she began climbing anew to the exquisite peak of sensations. She couldn't cum in so sordid a manner, it wasn't possible, it wasn't right but she was! "Ohhhh, come back, come back to me ...
But her stocky brother-in-law only grinned down at her distress. "Relax," he chuckled. "You're not finished with that mouth of yours yet!"
Sally groaned deliriously as Jake lifted himself over her prostrate form and then sat down on the flat of her stomach while his fingers began kneading mercilessly at her jutting breasts.
She squirmed and twisted beneath him, trying to escape the hot flashes of pain shooting into her helplessly aching spheres, but was erotically hypnotized by the insanely plunging tongue and sucking mouth attacking her sensuous vagina, driving her wild with want and white hot desire. Jake began to slowly inch his buttocks over the flat of her stomach and up over her soft resilient breasts, slowly flattening them under his gross weight and providing a soft cushion under his lust-pulsing body. He clutched the hard shaft of his erection and rubbed its moist cockhead against her parted lips, pushing his hips forward and letting his sperm-heavy testicles nestle in the hollow between her squashed breasts.
"You're going to take my cock in your mouth," he said to her. "Put my cock in your mouth, Sally, and suck me now."
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Go on, Sally," Jake gruffly demanded. "Suck my cock, just like you were sucking my wife's twat!"
No ... No, not this too ... ! Sally cried out to herself in her passion-stirred mind. All she could see was Jake's blood-swollen penis, its thick heavy rod glistening in the light of the room, and her stomach heaved at the obscene idea of taking its fleshy length until viciously, it ejaculated flood of virile semen into her hollowing mouth. She had never committed such a perversion before, any more than she had allowed anybody to kiss her between her legs ... but the guilty realization hit her that tonight she was experiencing, not only a man but a woman orally loving her genitals, and that she wantonly loved the woman in return ... And now Jake in his burgeoning lust was pressing his hands tightly to her ears, making her remain motionless as she tried to avert her face away, his hotly throbbing penis prodding against her lips and leaving a warm wet trail of seminal fluid as it prodded for entry.
"No, Jake. Please fuck me instead," she moaned thinking in the back of her shame-filled mind that she had sunk to the absolute pit of depravity to be lying here actually pleading with her loathsome brother-in-law to fuck her instead! She was in tears and they were streaming softly down her desire-flushed cheeks, her voice coming in gasps as Marge slaved lubriciously between her thighs and stirred her passions to new dangerous heights.
"Goddamn it," Jake growled, "you're going to suck me off first! That's what I told you to do, and you'll do it, bitch!"
She tried to resist, but Jake only held her tighter in a vise-like grip. "Suck me, and hurry! My balls are aching!"
Sally stared at the quivering head of Jake's penis, its unseeing eye of the glans staring back like some lewd symbol of carnality. The living room light played across his cock, adding to the salacious image, and the continual electric shocks of pleasure radiating from Marge's still searching mouth and tongue in her pussy made the whole scene yet more removed from sanity. The intense sexual delights to which her once-innocent loins were responding, coupling with the blanket of diffused fear and shame which had been a part of this entire evening, were causing her to become a quivering, naked object to the whim of the man who knelt upon her.
"Ohhhh Godddd...," she mewed in abject surrender, and meekly opened her mouth to accept Jake's insistent cock as he immediately plunged his meaty shaft all the way to her throat.
Sally gagged as his thick hardness filled her cheeks, her wetly ovaling lips brushed the hairy skin of his lower abdomen, his bloated large scrotum slapping against her chin as she fought desperately for breath. On his first out-stroke, her brother-in-law allowed her to refill her lungs with air, then his hot erection was lodged back in her mouth again.
God forgive me ... she groaned hysterically to herself as Jake and Marge continued to arouse her helplessly pinioned body. She hesitated in responding, but the insidious threats which Jake had made to her and the sordid defenselessness of her agonizing situation only served to perversely excite her more acutely than ever. To take a man's penis and suck on it as he wished her to only accentuate the horrid affair she had caused herself, and it was an act of punishment more painful than his belt whipping, signifying her defeat and humiliation in the face of lewdness and debauchery.
The secret desires hidden deep inside her loins, loosened first by Kingsford and now by the unexpectedly delicious sucking of her pussy, came to the fore. Unconsciously she rolled her throbbing buttocks higher off the floor in obscene little circles of invitation, flexing her cuntal muscles so that the surging tongue of her sister-in-law was squeezed hungrily up inside her belly. She could taste Jake's maleness and feel every heated inch of his rigid shaft as he gleefully slid it in and out of her wetness mouth, its fleshy ridges pressing against her tongue in an increasingly erotic rhythm. Experimentally, she slipped her tongue around its blunt cockhead on an out-stroke, hearing him groan loudly and tasting for the first time the bitter-sweet pungency of a male's seminal fluid. And surprisingly, shockingly, Sally found that the taste did not make her gag as she'd have expected. It was actually pleasant, even delicious!
Sally swirled her tongue faster around his glans opening now, lapping up all the warm male secretions there. Jake groaned again, then again, his fingers convulsing in her hair at the young eager tongue licking avidly on his penis. She opened her mouth wide to absorb still more of his pummeling cock, swishing her tongue in circular progressively faster strokes, holding the base of his cock now between her thumb and forefinger, rubbing it gingerly as if to help masturbate him.
Jake's hips began a harsh undulation, his thick erection squirreling in and out of Sally's mouth with wet sucking noises, guided in tempo and direction by his large hands gripping her hair. "Yeah, yeah, you fucking slut! Suck me, suck me good!"
Yes, yes, she'd suck his fat cock now, and suck him as best she could. She wanted to exploit all of her subjugation to the limit now, to saturate herself with forbidden ecstasy, for as the cock impaled her mouth and the tongue flicked deep in her cunt, the shame and guilt overwhelmed every pore of her naked sweating body. A strange masochistic joy pervaded her senses, and she writhed in abandoned delight between them, using her soft warm mouth as a substitute for the welcoming vagina her sister-in-law was orally raping.
Only vaguely was Sally aware when Marge pulled her mouth away from her steaming cunt, the sensation being one of loss and frustration which she couldn't fully comprehend. Through her haze of heated passion, Marge's naked figure was seemingly distorted and almost surrealistic to Sally as her sister-in-law moved around her, taking pictures of Jake's penis driving powerfully into her ovaling lips. It was stroking faster and faster, and she centered her lust-flooded attention solely on leaning into each surging thrust he made. Her eyes were closed to the brilliant flashes from the camera's strobe-light, and she moaned slightly as waves of defiling pleasure coursed through her betraying flesh. She rotated her hips in a frenzied search for the wet mouth which had been sucking her so ravenously, lifting her head awkwardly off the carpet and pressing her lips close around the rampaging cock, running her moist pink tongue over and over while she kneaded the sac of testicles which were pounding against her chin. She was totally losing control, sinking into an abyss of pure hedonistic lust, and she was deliriously relishing every second of her downfall.
Then, blissfully Marge returned to sucking and licking Sally's tender dilating cunt. Marge put her hands to work now; one was flashing with speeding accuracy in her own wide-splayed pussy, taking the place of Sally's lips and tongue. She moaned in her sensuality, her other hand running trembling fingers over the smooth cream and tan flesh of her young female lover below, tweaking and twisting the bud of her clitoris and plunging along with her tongue into her hungrily clasping vaginal hole.
"That's it, that's it," groaned Jake. "Keep sucking with your honey mouth."
Obediently, Sally increased her mouthing on his hard, fleshy penis. Her lips and nose were pressed against his groin and she could sense the aroused male aroma of his genitals in her nostrils, and she took all his length even though she would have thought that impossible. And her own loins ached with the twin devilings of Marge's tongue and fingers God, could she actually climax while engaged in such depravities, her dazed, cloudy mind asked abstractly.
She gasped as if close to death, her naked body slippery from the perspiration of her ravenous flesh. She felt herself nearing her lewd orgasm, and savored the delicious taste of Jake's thick warmth sliding in her mouth, while spiraling her gleaming white buttocks up against Marge's frantically sucking mouth. The saliva in her mouth grew sticky from Jake's emissions, and she could feel his flabby hips writhe and strain against her crushed breasts, as she willfully slid her ovaling lips up and down the entire length of his ever-pumping hardness. He fucked her in the mouth with a vengeance, and Sally moaned piteously around it as she imagined she could feel it hitting his wife's fluted tongue liquidly reaming deep up inside her cunt.
Marge heard her moans and it drove her to greater desire for her wantonly abandoned sister-in-law. She plunged two of her fingers into Sally's heatedly seething pussy, skewering with both hand and tongue in a drum-beat tempo matching her other hand's pistoning masturbation of her own madly pulsating vagina. She grinned to herself, listening in ill-concealed delight to Sally's rising mewls of passion. It was then that she saw her husband's buttocks suddenly jerk, and Marge sucked in her breath, knowing Jake was about to cum in Sally's voraciously sucking mouth.
"Ahhhhh!" Jake roared out, spasming as he sank the full length of his pumping cock deep down Sally's throat, and felt the head of his penis abruptly mushroom and erupt in her warm, wet mouth with a rush of boiling semen. His naked sister-in-law gagged and choked and swallowed around it, her cheeks inflating and deflating continuously from the pressure of his seemingly inexhaustible flow of creamy hot sperm, and the heavy pressuring man on her chest felt as if his balls would never empty all of his cum. But eventually his virile thickened penis throbbed a final time, and began to grow flaccid against Sally's whirling tongue.
Sally tried desperately to taste all of his cascading male seed, clasping her lips in a tightly fitting ring around his long pulsing shaft, but it was more than she could drink, and escaping white droplets trickled lewdly from the corners of her mouth and down her bloated cheeks. She lashed out with her tongue in a sweeping motion to lick the coagulating stream back into her mouth as Jake's softening penis pulled free from her lips with an obscene slurping sound.
Now the feverishly aroused young wife concentrated on her own efforts to climax. She ground her buttocks up against Marge's orally fucking mouth, absorbing all of the wildly flailing tongue deep up into her quaking belly, and almost fainted as her exploding orgasm racked her arching body with a massive earthquake of passion. There were several more convulsive upheavals that threatened to crack every bone and twist every muscle, and then she settled flat onto the carpet, only dimly aware of Marge's muffled squeals as the unscrupulous blonde woman fondled her own cunt and clitoris to ecstatic release. Sally lay half comatose on the floor as her brother-in-law crawled off her chest, both of them barely able to breathe.
Peering with lust-fogged eyes up between Sally's thighs, Marge watched excitedly as her husband's thick sperm rivuleted from Sally's slackened mouth. The salacious view increased the intensity of her own discharge, and her lushly splayed cunt overflowed with orgasmic secretions that rivuleted down her spasming vaginal crevice and over her strumming fingers, while she squeezed ... squeezed ... squeezed her palpitating pussy and anus with now both her hands. Then, drained and satiated, she too sagged exhausted to the floor, breathing shallowly.
For some time the despoiled young wife lay spread-legged on the carpet, her body aching and her mind hammering with a new sense of guilt and resentment. She felt thoroughly sordid and corrupt as a scurrilous picture formed in her head of how she must have looked, nakedly groveling for this venal, blackmailing couple, as passionately responsive to their demands as if she were the one forcing them to submit! She must be sick, her mind must have snapped in the horror of it all, for this time she wasn't experiencing her previous sense of all-encompassing shame and moral foreboding. This time her flesh had not only betrayed her, but had seemingly warped her emotions until they were void of repentance and were hoping for further indecencies instead. Tears of abject defeat cascaded down her smooth cheeks in a tiny waterfall of self-incrimination. Dear God, what had Jake and Marge done to her? What had she done to herself ... ?
Dizzily she saw Jake rise on his haunches and stretch, yawning with satisfaction. "Well, honey, we sure picked a hot one," he said to his wife. "Sally's a thoroughbred fucker, especially when galloping down the stretch, and heading for the finish line."
"A little slow out of the starting gate, though," Marge commented wryly. "But that'll get better with practice."
"Give me a minute to rest," Jake said, "and we'll exercise her some more. That is, if you're up to it."
"The question if whether you can get up to it, Jake."
"Have I ever failed yet?" he drawled, grinning at her.
Sally groaned as she listened to the obscene conversation floating around her, chills of apprehension stealing through her naked flesh. Yet the foulmouthed abuses they were intending to continue upon her defenseless body were setting off a churning lewd excitement in her loins that she couldn't seem to quench. God ... they were talking about her like she was their property, their whorish slave to do with as they willed ... and by the trap they'd snared her in and her own inexcusable behavior, maybe they were right ... Trembling, she rolled over on her stomach, crossing her legs tightly in an attempt to protect the throbbing, tingling crevice lying between her clenching thighs.
"Ain't going to do you any good, Sally," Jake snickered as he crawled down alongside her cringing figure. "I plan to widen those legs of yours something fierce tonight!"
Sally froze in her position as she heard his callous threat, and then she tilted her head around to stare pleadingly at her brother-in-law. Jake was gaping down with unadulterated lust at the full, lush curves of her shivering taut buttocks, and incredibly, insatiably, his own hairy groin was exhibiting a freshly hardening erection. The man was a satyr! Sally thought crazily. He'd just cum in her mouth how could he or any male be able to become aroused to quickly again?
As if reading her horrified mind, Jake took his newly stiffened penis in his hand and waggled it tauntingly at her. "I can go all night, Sally, one bang right after another. Maybe that's been your trouble all along, if n Stan is only able to service you once and then poop out."
"Jake'll satisfy you better than any man alive," Marge added proudly. She sat cross-legged on the carpet now, reveling in the control she and her husband held over this once haughty, once prudish woman. It was a supreme moment of superiority for her, and as she watched Jake crawl behind Sally, a contemptuous smile etched across her lush, crimson lips. "Fuck her, darling! We've two more shots to go, and I'll get them while you get her!"
Two more shots ... Dementedly, Sally wasn't able to connect Marge's lewd remarks with the presence of a camera, her reeling, half-crazed brain thinking only in terms of sex. Two more "shots" at her frail body or would that even satisfy them? Oh God, how would she be able to withstand anymore? Did she have any willpower left at all, or would she surrender in total, unforgivable abandonment as she had before....
Sally quivered with unwanted eroticism, while at the same time she vainly tried to contain the seething passions which once again were threatening to burst into a raging inferno that would consume her entire being, body and soul. She gasped, the breath catching in her throat as she felt Jake pry her legs apart and crouch between her vulnerable thighs, jerking slightly when he fingered the ravaged lips of her vaginal slit and dug one torn nail into the sensitive, swollen pink flesh.
"Yeah, I'll fuck her now, honey," he said to his wife, and then his voice husked down at Sally: "Get up on your knees, slut! C'mon, get that ass of yours waving in the air!"
Sally tried to stiffen her nakedly cowering body against the carpet, bitter tears still shedding down across the smooth hot skin of her face. She felt her brother-in-law force her knees farther apart with a rough pressure that scraped the tender backsides of her thighs and calves, one of Jake's hands tightly gripped the soft flesh of her narrow waist and pulled her hips powerfully up off the floor, while his other hand pressed harshly behind her neck to keep her breasts and face pressed flat against the rug knap. Her white buttocks arched high off the floor behind her, and she lay in her kneeling position, knowing resistance was foolish.
Whimpering, she felt the first searing contact of his blunt, thick penis against the cringing lips of her pussy, and as the agonizing entrance of his large hard cock bored into the depths of her belly like a whirling drill bit, she heard Jake grunt fiendishly: "God, what a twat!" His revitalized erection did not pause, but instantly began fucking into her with long, savage stroking, sliding in and out of her tight little cunt like a well-oiled piston, his testicles smacking rhythmically into the moist upturned crevice of her vagina.
As his rigid shaft increased its penetrating tempo, Sally began to realize that against her will her body was slowly beginning to respond. Her proud firm breasts began to throb involuntarily, and her toes squirmed as if she were attempting to crawl back closer to be Jake's obscene impalement. The captive young wife groaned aloud, crying as she prayed that this time for a change she could halt her weakening self-control. She fought the rising tide of her desires with all her remaining might, but gradually, inevitably, her nakedly crouching flesh was being flooded by nerve-tingling sensations. The familiar waves of carnal pleasure started cresting forcefully through her, and her sobs of resistance tapered off into deep sighs of greedy arousal.
But surrender was still not enough for the lunging brute invading her cuntal orifice from behind. "Move your ass, Sally!" Jake hissed, sweeping her buttocks wider apart as he sank his skewering erection time and again into her dilating pussy. "Move that sweet tight ass of yours!"
Sally complied without hesitation, rotating her up-thrust hips a she let herself follow his tempo, grinding and twisting her loins back against his driving cock as if she were glued to it.
"That's it, shake it, baby, shake it!"
"Oh, oh, oh, oh ... " she chanted as she bucked beneath him in lewd answer to his commands. She could feel him battering more sadistically now, the sight of her nude subservient form inciting him to faster and harder efforts. Her breath became one long continuous moan that was no longer muffled by the carpet. She was droning out into the living room, her face turned sideways so that her sister-in-law could stare down at her and see with lust-gleaming eyes the effect the wild fucking was having on her. Again came bright flashes of light blinding her vision, Marge stooping and sighting once ... twice ... for reasons incomprehensible to Sally, the shooting flames of desire now engulfing every cell of her tormented mind, and the fire of uncontrollable passion searing through every inch of her veins.
Then there was suddenly another movement around her head, and she could feel the carpet flatten in front of her face as a warm, curvaceous body descended around it. Marge, who could no longer take the lust-inciting scene of Sally being fucked from behind by her husband, had placed the camera back on the table and was wriggling up under her sister-in-law's face. Her gapingly exposed vaginal plane was now pressing tightly up against Sally's mouth, her legs bent back and splayed out on either side of her shoulders.
"Eat my cunt," she whispered salaciously down at the imprisoned girl. "Eat me out like I ate you, while Jake fucks!"
Spasms of excitement spiraling through her loins, Sally rubbed her lips once more into the feminine scented passage of Marge's juicy pussy, while simultaneously she heaved her eagerly trembling buttocks against her brother-in-law's jerking groin. With the merest of shudders, she flicked lightly with her tongue at the wetly heated lips of the blonde woman's vagina, a thrill of delight surging through her as she heard Marge cry out with pleasure, even higher than before.
Behind her, Jake's face twisted with passion as he peered over Sally's shoulder to drink in the spectacle of Sally burying her face in his wife's willing cunt. As he watched, Marge began to thrust her naked pelvis upward, pressing her hair-lined furrow tighter against Sally's sensuous mouth, and reaching with one hand to grasp her by the hair and viciously grind her hungry cunt against the ovaling mouth. His breath rasping hoarsely, Jake clutched Sally's tiny waist with his hands, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as the huge rubber knob of his cock rammed over and over into her muscle-gripping pussy.
Sally moaned deliriously into the moistness of Marge's straining pelvis as Jake's thick erection seemed to tunnel into her violated belly in velvety rippling waves of sensation. Marge was beginning to buck ravenously beneath the conquered wife, unable to get enough of Sally's hot swiping tongue. Jake grinned obscenely at the sight of his wife writhing crazily under Sally's mindlessly sucking lips, and it only served to make his already swollen cock grow all the more rampageous.
His lascivious blonde wife was on the brink of another orgasm, the lustful excitement building in her loins, ready to explode at any moment. Sighing with her passion, Marge slid one hand down over her palpitating belly to grasp her wetly throbbing vaginal lips and pull them wider apart with her fingers, spreading open her succulent pink flesh to her sister-in-law's ceaselessly working mouth. Sally's lips were soft and smooth as she licked hungrily over Marge's cunt, teasing the hard swollen clitoris with her teeth, then thrusting her tongue deeply into the clenching inner passage of her pussy.
Sally buried herself in animalistic ecstasy as she felt the depths of her backsides being unbelievably filled by Jake's pumping cock. She could feel his coarse pubic hairs brushing tantalizingly against her wide-spread buttocks as he pounded his enormous erection into her crevice, a rivulet of warm secretion trickling along her uptilted slit as it absorbed the pile-driving fuck of her vaginal depths. She realized vaguely that she was rocketing for the greatest climax she'd yet experienced, her brain swirling and her body tingling with sheer sensual bliss. Forgotten was the degradation of bending like a slave to a bestial man who fucked her defenseless cunt from behind, venting his vanity and lust while she was frantically sucking his wife's feverish pussy. The unbelievable corruption she had suffered at the hands of Jake and Marge tonight had battered her flesh and beaten her mind, ripping from her soul any vestige of worth or pride and leaving her hardly better than a dumb lusting animal. What would Stan think if he could see her now, relishing the heartless abuse of her body by his own brother and sister-in-law? But what Stan thought was not important ... what she thought was not important ... no lucid thought was important in comparison to the blind emotional urgency of her passions that pulsed through her blood, like a mind-killing drug.
"Oh yes ... fuck me, fuck me harder ... " she murmured while licking Marge's pussy in growing lubricity. Her head began to spin in a whirling maze of exotic colors as the weight of Jake's loins crushed against her undulating buttocks, driving her face brutally into the heated flesh of Marge's passionately wriggling cunt. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuckkk ... I"
"Ohhhhh ... Oh, I'm commmmminnnnggg...! " Marge suddenly cried out as her entire body began to thrash and heave up against Sally's slavering face. "Oh Jesus, I'm cuummmminnnnggg"
The frantically sucking wife could barely keep her lips fastened on the blonde-fringed vagina that throbbed so wildly against her mouth. Marge Carstairs totally abandoned herself to her immoral Lesbian ecstasies, shuddering and gasping for breath, her muscles spasming ... until finally she shuddered to stillness.
Sally let her head drop down on the saliva-matted pubic mound of her sister-in-law's weakly throbbing vagina, her pert round buttocks thrusting higher off the carpet in her crazed effort to receive yet more of the stone-hard penis fucking so exquisitely into her belly. She felt completely helpless, a tingling mass of female meat whose only purpose was to envelope the great driving cock hammering into her yearning cunt. Lost in her masochistic excitement, she slipped one hand back along her breasts and quivering belly to deliberately finger the erect button of her own clitoris, eyes clouding from the force of her impending orgasm; her every nerve vibrating with anticipation as she felt Jake's monstrous organ beginning to swell and pulsate into a hugeness that could only mean one thing!"
"Oh cum," she moaned dementedly. "Cum in my cunt, you fucking bastard! Fill me with your cum!"
"Don't say I never did nuthin' for you!", Jake Carstairs rasped over her. "Your command is my wish Ahhhhh....!"
Sally felt her straining thighs being forced wider apart as Jake gave one more powerful lunge against her up-thrust buttocks, driving his cock's fully expanded length deep into her welcoming pussy. She felt his fingers tightening convulsively around her waist, his fleshy groin jerking harshly against her arching back. As the first hot spurts of his boiling sperm erupted into her eagerly gripping cunt, Sally felt her own shattering release spiraling uncontrollably through every pore of her lust-torn body, her muscles and sinews contracting spastically until she nearly toppled over from the intensity of her climax.
Her brother-in-law's ejaculating cock plunged incessantly into her clasping vagina, not ceasing before the last drop of his seething cum had been spewed from his emptying testicles. Shiny white trails of virile sperm oozed out from her flooded womb, squeezed from around his sawing penile shaft to flow down along her hair-fringed slit and become syrupy beneath the pressured stirrings of her masturbating fingers. Sally worked frenziedly with her hand on her clitoris, sensations bursting from her contorted lips. And then ... it was over.
Slowly Jake withdrew his now deflating cock, allowing Sally to collapse forward across the straddling loins of her sister-in-law. There was no movement for even a longer time than before, all three of the naked lovers too exhausted and satisfied to be able to move so much as a muscle. Sally just lay there, not even twitching as she felt Jake and Marge disengage themselves from her flaccid body and begin to collect their clothing.
"I have to admit," Jake sighed contentedly, "I'm all tapped out for awhile. Our pious little virgin here milked me drier than the Sahara this time around."
"I'd guess that Sally's had her fill for one night, too," Marge said, slipping into her robe and smiling cynically down at the bedraggled wife's limp form. Then she glanced quizzically at her husband, who was busily "gathering the pornographic photographs that were strewn across the carpet. "You don't think Stan will find out, do you? I mean, she might get religion or something and blurt it out to him, hoping he'll forgive her."
"No way," Jake sneered, waving a fistful of the automatically developed snapshots. "Like I said before, honey, it'd be her word against ours, and these will insure she keeps her trap shut in any case. Unless, that is, she'd like our evening's entertainment to become really public, like in every tavern and adult shop from here to Rapier City."
Sally remained motionless, cradling her head in her arms against the carpet beneath her. She had dimly heard the words Jake and Marge had spoken, and though her mind was dazed and shattered, she intuitively knew that they were discussing her silence. Well, silence they'd get from her, she vowed, the lewd orgy she'd just collaborated in being far too perverted and debauched to ever be confessed, much less absolved.
The two corrupting in-laws chuckled together as Jake finished dressing and Marge scooped up the last of the pictures. Then Jake came over and stood above the hapless Sally with his legs spread wide and his fists pressed arrogantly to his hips.
"Remember," he taunted. "We'll keep our promise to keep this our secret, so long as you do the same. What Stan doesn't know won't hurt you. Besides, I figure we did you some good. Sorta broadened your horizons, so to speak. Haw, haw!"
The contemptuous snort which Jake guffawed was the last straw to Sally's benumbed senses. Nevertheless, she didn't make a sound of protest or turn over, but lay in utter exhaustion as she heard the couple turn and leave by way of the patio. Oddly she felt neither humiliation or guilt in the aftermath of her latest sexual adventure. She had felt something only hours earlier, she thought as she sprawled with her face to the carpet; now just complete satiation was flowing through her in a soporific trance. It was as if she were becoming calloused and uncaring to whatever revolting acts she engaged in, and as Jake had said, there was really nothing she could do, was there? He and Marge could force her to submit to every brutal obscenity they demanded, and there wasn't a thing in the world she could do to stop them ... or herself.
Later, perhaps, after her mind had had a chance to rest and return to normal, she might begin to feel the tormenting emotions that were presently drained from her. But now ... now all she seemed to be capable of doing was wonder how she could possibly face her husband with sufficient innocence and naivety to trick him into believing none of this had ever happened ...
Eventually she managed to recover enough strength to stagger to her feet. She tottered shakily off in the direction of her bedroom, switching off its light as she entered so that she wouldn't be forced to see herself in the full-length mirror. Once between the rumpled sheets of the still unmade bed, she lay staring up at the darkness, feeling a warm lethargy stealing over her mind. It was a defensive mechanism to counteract the dull aching pain in her body, and to temporarily relieve the mental anguish which was buried deep in her troubled subconscious. She was thankful for it, and after a few moments, she allowed herself to succumb to the waves of drowsiness, drifting into a fitful, restless slumber ...
Sally wouldn't have slept at all if she had known ... But unaware to her because she'd been too-wrought to calmly check the living room, and unnoticed by Jake and Marge in their heady feeling of triumphant conquest, smutty proof of her willing seduction lay discarded like silent, hidden time bombs. The many obscene pictures that had been shot for the Carstairs private album had all been collected before they'd left, but swaggering out into the dim shadowy night, a few had trickled undetected from Jake's paunchy fingers, settling in his wake the way leaves drop and scatter from autumnal trees. Concealed by the night on the open patio, the luridly colorful evidence sat waiting ... waiting to be picked up and examined.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nor in their lewd excitement, had Jake and Marge remembered Stan's telephone message, entirely forgetting in the heat of their illicit action to pass on his news to Sally.
As a result, Stan was driving home under the false assumption that his wife knew of his abortive trip. A part of his mind was naturally concerned with his race car, which had become damaged when its trailer had blown a tire and smashed into a highway guard rail. It had taken considerable ingenuity to make the trailer roadworthy again, but Stan, along with his two buddies Oscar and Felix, had managed to slowly return with it from Rapier City. Now both it and the Chevy racer were parked for repairs in Oscar's welding and body shop, a few miles away on the other side of Marylehurst. Stan had dropped off Oscar and Felix at a local tavern, then continued on home in his family station-wagon, feeling too depressed to even sit around drinking with his friends.
True, a portion of him mulled over wrecking the Chevy and their chances at the race. But if it had been this alone, he'd have stayed at the tavern and helped Oscar and Felix drown away their disappointment. However, mostly he brooded about Sally, his thoughts plagued with guilt and regret ever since he'd stormed out of the house that afternoon or rather, yesterday afternoon, the time now well past midnight and into a new morn. His was a discouragement too private to share with his two unmarried pals; a bleak sadness which only making up with his wife could allay, and he hoped that he'd show his good intentions and help right his terrible wrong.
Damnation! He'd been such an idiot. There'd been no excuse for pouncing on his wife the way he had, only the flimsy rationale that something had snapped in his head after she'd nagged him about his girlie magazines and sex in general. It was odd: He'd always had the feeling that Sally was as physically attracted to him as he was to her, and that underneath her prim modesty she was as sensual as she was desirable. Yet that was hardly reason to selfishly force himself on her, and he couldn't really find resentment or anger in his heart over her straight-laced exterior and righteous indignation.
Who could respect a woman otherwise? Stan asked himself as he drove down the dark, vacant street to his home. So what if Sally were provocatively beautiful so a whore could be also. He wanted his wife who was sensitive and demure as well as affectionate, one he could proudly introduce as his and his alone. Sally was too lovely a person inside and out not to've been treated with more understanding and tenderness. Last afternoon had been wrong, all wrong and all his fault ...
Contemplating these morbid thoughts, Stan cruised quietly up to his house and coasted to a silent halt inside the garage, whose overhead door was still up from when he'd left earlier. He didn't close the door; it always creaked and rumbled loudly, and he didn't wish to disturb Sally until he was actually with her in the bedroom. Instead, he went directly out the back way to the rear patio entry, this being shorter than going all the way around the front and in. His footsteps were soft and apprehensive. He still hadn't reached any firm decision as to what he was going to do or say to Sally, except perhaps to give some patently useless apology that could scarcely heal the breach he'd caused between them. Yet possibly in time, if she were willing to forgive and forget, he could rebuild a warm and intimate relationship with her, and they could grow a closer shared love and trust for each other the way married couples should ...
With this moody attitude running through his troubled thoughts, Stan crossed the small section of patio between the garage and the living room. He was almost to the door, when he became aware that the living room lights were on, and for a moment he hesitated, peering through the window to see if by chance, Sally had decided to stay up. But no, the room was empty of life, and shrugging, Stan figured that she'd simply forgotten to switch the lights off before going to bed. He glanced down at his key ring, using the slight illumination spilling out the window to make sure he picked out the right key, and he was about to unlatch what he presumed was a locked door, when his foot scuffed on something and his eyes automatically focused lower, down past his key ring to see what it was.
Strange ... it appeared to be a snapshot. Stooping to retrieve it, Stan glimpsed another picture, then another and still others dotting the flagstones around the entrance. He paused to collect and then quizzically shuffle through them, again by the light of the living room, holding them at a slant and squinting to see what they consisted of.
By peering carefully, he could make out the subjects, and a startled shock raced through him. Christ! These were dirty photos! These were real, honest-to-God spicy pics hotter than any of those professional spreads printed in his magazines! What in hell were they doing here on his patio? Stan wondered, stunned by the glossy, full-color lewdness of their content.
The first portrait was of some woman lying completely naked on a rug. Her legs were splayed wide and the full plane of her crotch was visible to the earner a lens. Under the little hairy line of her dark pubic hair, he could see the tender flesh of her vaginal lips and the glistening inner hole of her cunt. Stan swallowed thickly, feeling a sudden surge of arousal sweeping through him. He licked his lips, wishing that Sally would let him photograph her like that sometime ... but such, of course, was impossible; and remembering his vow to treat her decently from now on, he guiltily studied the next picture, which was even more obscene, and even more exciting for him to view. It looked to be the same woman as before, but now there was the hungrily grinning face of a woman, a blonde babe poised just an inch or so from her wetly glistening pussy. The blonde's tongue was spearing out toward it, a pink furled prong ready to worm and burrow its way deep inside that moist coral opening.
Hell, that picture was so obviously natural and unposed that it had to've been taken while it was actually, truly happening! Stan felt his penis stiffen and his balls begin to ache with envy of whoever the third person had been who'd shot it.
Hastily he flipped to the third photo, seeing the same brunette woman with her face contorted with passion, her ovaling mouth encompassing a man's turgid penis. She was swallowing the entirety of his hardened erection, the short wiry hairs of his pubes scratching against her nose and chin, rivulets of saliva and seminal fluid dribbling from her clasping lips and smearing her hollowing cheeks.
The fire in Stan's loins was spreading unconsciously sending hot flames of jealous arousal through his blood stream. Dammit, he'd never been able to get Sally to do that to him! He stared at the picture again, mesmerized, momentarily imagining his wife struggling to feed on every thick fleshy inch of his cock, exactly the way the unknown slut in the picture was gobbling at that man's fat prick ... and as he stared, inspecting each salacious detail, it gradually dawned on him that the sucking girl wasn't entirely unknown to him ... that despite the amateurish photography, the partial shadows, and her lust-twisted features, she was strangely familiar ...
What the hell!
That girl was his wife! Stan took one more wild, blinding glimpse, total realization shattering his mind like a hail of deadly bullets. His face grew a bright beet red as he recognized Sally, his own sweet, faithful Sally sucking a stranger's cock.
And the next picture there she was again, on all-fours and being screwed from behind doggy fashion! But now the man was no longer a stranger, either, Stan managing to see the rapacious leer of Jake glaring beadily down at Sally while he hunched over her arching buttocks. And that could only mean ... ! Yes yes, there in the next was Marge stretched beneath his naked wife's lowered head, and ... and oh God, Sally had her mouth locked tightly against Marge's pussy, licking it like Marge had been licking hers!
Look at her! Just look at his wife, at his brother and at his wife look at all them entangled in the most rampant degeneracy Stan could ever imagine! Well, it was damn clear how the pictures wound up on his patio. Even the place of their orgy was apparent to him now, as was the knowledge that this must've happened just that night, during the few short hours he'd been away!
Christ, he could see now that he should've fucked Sally senseless from the very first day they'd met, and that he was an idiot all right an idiot ever to've been tricked by her ruse! Sally had been faking her prudery, that was plain! All her moaning and wailing about being raped had been so much horseshit! And the longer he thumbed through the pictures, the angrier he got at the idea of having been made an ass, wasting his time feeling sorry for what he'd done. Rage filtered through him, and he crumpled the damning photographs in his fists with anguish and chagrin. He had to fight back, to hurt as he'd been hurt ... but how? Confront Sally? She'd likely just laugh at him, contemptuous of having suckered him for so long. Face Jake and Marge? What for? He knew fucking around was their way of life, and they'd probably only laugh too, and advise him to join the bandwagon. Anyway, they weren't at fault. They weren't lying, faithless hypocrite that Sally was, but merely unscrupulous opportunists taking advantage of a golden offer.
No ... It was Sally and Sally alone who deserved the brunt of his fury. Yet what could he do? Stan smoothed out the photographs he'd crushed, restudying them as if looking for an answer to his indecision, and finding himself caught in increasingly mixed emotions. As repelled and incensed as he was, he was becoming more and more aroused by the very obscenity of the pictures. My God, how could they not excite him? There was his wife writhing and twisting in the throes of sexual abandonment like he'd always dreamed she would, and Stan could feel his penis once again throbbing against his pants in perverse response. He dimly perceived that in the back of his mind was the scurrilous desire to have been there with her, straining behind her crouching thighs or filling her mouth with his own lust-thickened penis, one member of a whole group that didn't care who saw or who knew what perversions they were up to.
Well, why not? Why not strike back with her own weapon sex! He'd teach her! He'd set up his own circus of lust, his own three-ring carnival with Oscar and Felix, and teach that deviously lying, cheating wife of his what an orgy was all about! And his buddies would be glad to help, too, neither of them the type to turn down a free fuck! That was the best idea of all!
Without another moment's hesitation, Stan pivoted on his heel and strode swiftly back to the garage. Quietly he restarted the station wagon and reversed out, switching on the headlights and beginning the long drive into Marylehurst and the tavern where he was sure he'd find his friends. Yeah, he thought with sardonic wrath, give me an hour to arrange things, Sally, and I'll have you treated like the whore you love to be ...
CHAPTER NINE
Sally Carstairs awoke in a spasm, shocked conscious by the shrill ringing of the telephone. Automatically she glanced at the bedside alarm clock, seeing its luminous dial pointing at three-forty in the morning, if the darkness outside was any indication. The phone rang again, and she stumbled from the bed, groping her way down the hall to where the phone rang yet a third time, sitting on a convenient corner table. She felt drowsy and flustered, wits addled and fogged, and when she initially answered, she didn't recognize the voice.
"Mrs. Carstairs? Mrs. Carstairs?"
"Yes. Who ... ? "
"This is Felix, Felix Pearson. You know, a friend of your husband. We've been trying to reach you for some time now."
"The phone, it hasn't been working ... "
"None of them on your exchange have been, but evidently the phone company finally repaired whatever was wrong. Listen, Mrs. Carstairs, there's been an accident."
"What? An accident? A racing accident? Who? Where?"
"We're at Oscar's body shop. You know where that is?"
"You're not up in Rapier City?"
"No, weren't you told? We sent a message earlier."
"I never got it. But ... but this accident, you say it's at Oscar's? Is he hurt badly?"
"Oscar? He's fine. It's your husband, Mrs. Carstairs."
"Stan? Oh my God!" Sally straightened, trying to pull herself together, still feeling woozy and dull. "What ... What happened to him, Felix? Is he ... is he ... ? "
"Naw, he's alive, but just not kicking much. The trailer slipped off its jack and fell on his leg."
"Oh ... Oh, this is awful! I'll get a doctor at once!"
"We've done all that, Mrs. Carstairs. Believe me, we've done everything we can for him, but he wants to see you. Can you come out here as fast as possible?"
"Well, I ... I ... Of course. I don't have our car ... "
"I've already sent a taxi to fetch you. It should be there any moment now. Do you think you could be ready?"
"Yes. At Oscar's, you say?"
"Twelve-seventy-two Burnett Avenue, Mrs. Carstairs. The taxi driver has the address in any case. We can count on you?"
"You know you can, Felix, and ... And tell Stan that I love him, will you?"
There was a weirdly hollow chuckle from the other end. "Sure, Mrs. Carstairs. He'll be happy to hear that. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," Sally said, hanging up. Stunned by the news, she stared for a moment at the phone, and then turning, she dashed back into the bedroom. Hastily she dressed in the brassiere and panties that had lain forgotten on the floor from when Merle Kingsford had barged in to seduce her, her mind blank to their significance in her concern over her injured husband. She kicked aside the imagine dress she was to've worn then, pawing through her closet again and selecting a simpler, easier shift which simply slipped over her head and zipped up the side. She'd just slid her bare toes into a pair of plain knockabout flats, when she heard a car pulling up outside.
"Oh dear, oh dear," she muttered to herself, peeking out the window and seeing the taxi had arrived as promised. Ignoring her makeup and even her purse, she hurried out to it and clambered inside. "Twelve-seventy-two Bur "
"I know, lady," the driver interrupted wearily, stepping on the gas and heading toward town. "Oscar's body shop."
The distraught young wife settled back against the cold upholstery, fully awake now and thinking how peculiar fate was. Stan hadn't gone to the Rapier City races after all; he hadn't stayed out all night; and he certainly hadn't been fooling around with another woman as she'd once feared he might. Instead he'd been doing right by her, and had been struck down by some sort of crazy accident while coming home earlier to her. It was a nice gesture, in spite of what he'd done to her, and-
Oh Lord in heaven! Her thoughts abruptly came to the point where she remembered what she had been doing, and why it would've been disastrous if Stan would've returned any sooner. When the recollection came, it was like a blow to the stomach, and Sally sunk on the seat, her entire body sagging with despair. Her mind churned with revulsive images of her obscene rutting with Stan's goatish boss, and then of her degrading surrender to Jake and Marge and the perversions they forced her to commit ... Yet more abhorrent to her than all else was her own unforgivable quest for sexual satisfaction, knowing wretchedly that she had not merely succumbed to her in-law's sadistic blackmail, but had bargained willingly, giving herself to their obscene lustings with a wanton shamelessness she had always before denied her husband. She was still unable to feel the repugnance and self-loathing she was sure she should for her unspeakable wickedness, and this was frightening her more than the actual physical acts she had so eagerly, passionately joined into.
Luckily no one other than Kingsford, Jake and Marge were aware of her sordid downfall from grace, and since they were all equal partners in the depravities, they weren't about to blab. If it weren't for the bruises and puffiness around her lips and eyes now, Sally doubted whether anybody could tell that something had happened to her at all. Well, somehow she'd find the inner reserve to face her husband and bluff it through, locking the appalling truth inside her heart, there to remain forever hidden from Stan and the rest of the world. She could only pray that Jake and Marge would leave well enough alone, and would never again attempt to repeat their extortionate demands when Stan was away next and she was home alone, and vulnerable ...
The squawk of brakes brought her out of her unhappy reverie, and glancing out the taxicab window, she saw that they were drawing to a stop in front of Oscar's body shop.
"I ... I didn't bring any money," she said to the driver, apologetically adding: "If you'll wait, I'll get the fare from "
"F'get it, lady. It's all been arranged. Good night."
The taxi sped away, its tail-lamps like beady animal eyes flickering off into the distance. Pressing her moist palms together, Sally turned fearfully toward the body shop. It was hardly more than a shanty shed, a dark plank building with grime-encrusted barred windows that was set back from Burnett Avenue on a yard of decay. There were disorderly piles of rubbish at the curb, a torn overshoe, a tire, empty paint cans, a section of canvas from the top of a convertible a prideless collection, the sort of things most people would cart off to the dump, but which Oscar seemingly repaired cars with.
Trekking up the pot-holed, alley-like drive, Sally couldn't help thinking how she hated this section of Marylehurst. It was the old part, the original part before Marylehurst became a fashionable suburb, and was now a deteriorating neighborhood of pawn shops, pool halls, and cheap noisy barrooms. Everyone said the whole area had to go; the land was needed for decent housing and new developments. But so far nothing had been done, the slum continuing to exist by the complicated tendrils of politics, taxation, and citizen apathy.
The office door next to the double gates of the garage suddenly opened, yellow light from inside splashing out across the black weedy yard. A thin, balding man in a checked shirt and whipcord pants appeared in the doorway, visible against the light. It was Felix, Sally recognized, and he was beckoning to her. "There you are, Mrs. Carstairs. Stan's in here."
Sally redoubled her pace. A large drop of water hit her just before she reached the door, and she glanced up, to be struck by two more. The storm had finally arrived, and it was beginning to rain.
"In the garage," Felix said, closing the door behind her. He grabbed her arm and propelled her around the side of a chewed-up oak desk toward another door. "I'll show you."
She followed the man, stumbling on the dirt board floor to the door, and then out into the cavernous garage. "How ... How is he?" she panted, her breathing beginning to tighten in her chest. "Has the doctor been here yet?"
"Just on the other side of the truck, Mrs. Carstairs."
Felix led her past a large moving van whose front end was bashed in, down along a series of other cars in various stages of demolition, eventually reaching the battered trailer with the Chevy still hitched on its bed. Sally could see the oafish Oscar Pearson standing near the trailer hitch, a bare lamp strung from the ceiling above him shining down on his greasy hair and bandito moustache, while at his feet lay the moaning prostrate form of her husband. Stan was rolling slightly from side to side on a large tarpaulin that was only marginally less grimy and stained than the old concrete floor it covered, and as Sally rushed over to him, she was assailed by the noxious odor of metal dust, paint thinners, dry rot and mildew.
"Oh, oh my darling," she murmured, kneeling down by her injured husband. "Is it bad?" Isyour leg broken?"
"I dunno," he groaned, gritting his teeth.
Gently she felt along the upper portion of his right leg where she thought he was indicating. "Does it hurt when I touch it?"
"No, not there ... " He shook his head, a slow evil smirk barely concealed at the corners of his mouth. "You've got hold of the wrong leg, Sally. It's ... this one!"
Abruptly he reached down with both hands and pulled open the front of his already unzipped jeans. Sally gasped in surprise as she saw his hardening penis leap out, its blunt head throbbing as if it were staring at her with one tiny eye.
"Wha ... ? What's this mean?" she gasped, falling back on her haunches as she stared at his exposed genitals with disbelief. She heard a cynical bark of laughter from Oscar, and snapped her eyes up at him. "What's this mean?"
"Why, Mrs. Carstairs," Felix answered for him, also standing smugly over her on the tarp, "Stan's only trying to show you where it hurts the most."
"How dare you!" Sally exclaimed, her startled face burning with the livid red of her embarrassment and anger. "How dare you talk to me like that!" She stumbled to her feet, her body trembling with indignation. "And you, Stan! Is this some sort of joke? If it is, it certainly isn't funny, and "
"Shut the hell up!" he suddenly snarled, raising up to clutch her by the wrist and jerk her back down to the cold, thin tarp. "Oscar, go lock the door to the office."
Sally crumpled to the stained canvas from the violence of his unexpected yanking of her arm. Her head spun with confusion, and she could only look at him with dazed, terrified eyes, her shock of the moment before giving way to the first stages of panic. She heard the office door being locked with the echoing finality of a dungeon cell, and she horrifyingly realized that her husband had tricked her, trapping her in this dank, smelling body shop where she had virtually no chance of escape. He and his disgusting friends could easily overpower her even if she managed to unlock the door, and in this horrid part of town, her cries for help would be ignored, if ever heard.
"But ... But I don't understand. Why?" she heard herself ask feebly. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Why honey, you're getting upset about nothing." Stan said to pacify her. "I just figured that since you liked Jake and Marge screwing the shit out of you, you should have your chance to get your fill before the night is over. I mean, for all I know you've tried three cocks gang-banging you, but in case you haven't I thought it might be nice to try it."
"Oh no!" The blood drained from Sally's horrified face as she stared at the savage countenance of the man she married. But Stan was no longer her affectionate husband, he was a stranger now, his features cruelly gnarled into lines of ruthlessness, mirroring a desire for revenge and punishment. He knew ... he knew what she had done!
"Stan, darling ... please listen to me," she whimpered, her words sounding pathetic and useless even to her own ears. "Let me explain, please ... " But she could not think.
He stared at her with hard, contemptuous hatred in his eyes. He did not speak, only a silent, rage-filled expression lining his anger-pursed lips.
Sally quivered in her fear and shame. "Say something, Stan, say something," she begged in her desperation. She didn't know him now at all, and her humiliation was replaced by the stark fear that he might even kill her. She almost hoped he would.
He leaned closer slowly, steely, until his lips were almost level with her ear. "Okay, I'll say something," he spat harshly. "You are a cock-sucking, cunt-licking bitch, that's what you are. How many others have you been fucking around with behind my back, eh? Ten? Twenty? A hundred?"
He grasped her thinly clad shoulders hard in his hands, digging his fingers deep into the softness of her cringing flesh. His sudden movement and savage pressure caused Sally to jerk and twist away, but Stan only held on tighter, shaking her.
"You slut," he raged at her. "I didn't see you trying to squirm away from Jake or Marge!" He slapped her hard, flat across the cheeks, yanking her head to one side so harshly that she thought he'd broken her neck. She tried twisting free from his madness again, but he only kept on slapping her, left cheek then right cheek, in a series of stinging blows.
"Stan! Stan, you're killing me!"
"Not that way, I won't," he laughed cruelly. "I've a better way of making you wish you'd never been born! Take off that dress, wifey dear. Take it off and strip bare-ass naked!"
"Please Stan," she sobbed mournfully. "Please don't make me do that in front of the others!"
"Why, you whore! You've been dropping your drawers for lotsa other men, so what're two more strangers to you? It's me you've been holding out on, remember? It's me your loving, devoted husband who's been getting the short end of your stick. Now, strip, I said!" he snarled viciously, and suddenly gripped the front of her dress in his stony fist.
Yet as Stan wrenched at her dress, Sally somehow struggled free in hysteria and struggled to her feet. Her terrified mind reacted in one last despairing bid to escape, and she lunged toward the locked door, screaming: "Let me out! Help! Oh God, please somebody help me!"
But they caught her easily, and as Felix and Oscar held her pinned back down on the smelly, soiled tarpaulin, Stan began unzipping her dress.
"Don't rip her clothes," Felix said lewdly.
"Yeah, she's doing this of her own free will," Oscar added with a husky chuckle. "Ain't that right, Stan?"
"It's been her free will before, boys," Stan answered sarcastically. "Free and loose!"
Sally sprawled helplessly on her back as her dress was slowly removed from her cringing flesh ... her brassiere was unsnapped roughly by a hand worming its way beneath her back ... and then her thin white panties were rolled down from the fullness of her buttocks and slipped off her legs along with her shoes ... God, she was now totally naked!
Huddling, she watched in frozen horror as the three men moved in on her, their lusting faces congealed with animalistic desires. She could barely breathe the stuffy, unclean air of the body shop, and what she could inhale was pungent with the erotic scent of their musky perspirations Felix slipped his hands down over her breasts, cupping and squeezing their firm roundness while his obviously erect penis pressed through his pants against the smooth, tanned side of her body. Oscar was on his knees in front of his, his calloused hands running obscenely down over her flanks and thighs, while Stan crowded in as close as he could to rub his exposed erection against the nakedness of her satiny smooth hips.
"No ... No, God help me ... " she mewled frantically over and over. She was hopelessly locked in this grubby garage, to be plundered in their uncontained fury!
"On your knees, wife," Stan commanded from beside her. "Roll over on the tarp. Now!"
What else could she do? she thought, then suddenly felt the smarting whack of her enraged husband's hand upon her buttocks. "Do as I say," he snickered lewdly. "A husband's word is law!" Another resounding painful spank stung at her backsides, and she almost leaped as she hurriedly flopped over fully on her stomach, then raised up her hips in a kneeling position. She cowered in front of his wide-spread legs, but as she looked up at him pleadingly, she suddenly gasped for breath.
Stan was dropping his pants and shorts with feverish haste, throwing them and his shirt in every direction. Within seconds he stood towering over his stricken, terrified wife, his naked, muscular body gleaming softly in the dim room's lamp-light. Then in her slave-like crouch, she peered around and watched the other two men speedily stripping themselves nude. Her eyes remained fixed upon their hairy, masculine loins, her mind blanking from sensible reasoning as she stared at their heavy, passion-erect penises jutting lewdly out from their abdomens. It seemed impossible that her husband was orchestrating her rape by these two foul-breathing friends of his, yet it was true. Worse, she was beginning to question if this was going to actually turn out to be a rape. She couldn't seem to tear her vision away from Oscar's stiff, thick cock or Felix's thinner but longer shaft. Somewhere deep in her mind, she wondered if they would feel better inside her belly than Merle Kingsford's, or Jake's, or even Stan's had. Ashamed of her own weakness, she turned back to Stan, cringing under the glare of his confident, arrogant expression.
"Don't ... Please don't hurt me," she moaned.
"We won't," Stan assured her. "Besides, when did a good fuck ever hurt a woman, eh? Especially a cunt who loves fucking as much as you do, right?"
Sally moaned again in the utter mortification of having her husband treat her like this. Yet intuitively she knew the anguish and hurt he must be feeling inside to have responded the way he was, and she sobbed, managing to choke out:
"Yes, Stan ... I deserve it! I deserve whatever you think of me! But remember, I love you, darling, and I always will!"
Stan gazed down at his moaning, pleading wife, and something inside his heart began to soften his savage sense of desolation. Damn, Sally was so luscious, so desirable. He had only to look at her distorted expression of pain and suffering ... and the way she squeezed her thighs together in apprehension of his assault ... and he knew deep down that unwillingly he was weakening to her charms again. He realized belatedly that most of his anger was pure envy at the notion of the beautiful woman being fucked by another man or woman; that he was as jealous as he was enraged. He knew that to be the truth, and he felt a little twinge of regret mixing with his burgeoning raw lust for her punishment.
"We'll see how strong your love is," he replied snidely, steeling his emotions to the task at hand. "We'll see ... after you've made love to all of us."
He dropped to his knees beside her, kissing her sides and fondling her dancing breasts as she knelt cowering but compliant. Sally closed her eyes tight to close away the shame and fear of crouching naked and defenseless, the further humiliation of having Oscar and Felix watching her like this making her want to scream. She opened her mouth in torment, but was too paralyzed with sudden returning guilt to make a sound. Instead, all she could do was lie still with her buttocks high and her breath coming so fast she felt as if her lungs would burst. Her belly quivered and heaved as though Stan had already planted his hard penis deep inside her exposed vagina, her mind humbling to the caress of his lips and fingers roaming over her flesh. And though she tried to stop the feeling, a tiny tendril of sensation unwantedly descended feather-like along her jutting loins.
"Felix is going to fuck you first," Stan informed her lewdly, his eyes still implacable with the greed of his vengeance. "We flipped coins to decide, and with my luck, I won soggy thirds. But that's alright. I want to see you twist and squirm with his cock sunk into your cheating pussy."
Sally hunched frozen under the prodding of his obscene words. Their very scurrility seemed to excite her a tiny bit more; but again she thought of how her husband wanted to merely abuse and punish her, and the encroaching desire vanished from her mind. To lie beneath a man like Felix and then even worse, a slob like Oscar, while the one she cherished urged them on was a thousand times more degrading than even Jake and Marge's despoiling blackmail. She could never respond passionately to this; she just knew she couldn't! She would submit because she had to, but only in tormenting pain ...
Suddenly Felix Pearson slipped down on the tarpaulin along with Stan. She felt one of his long, sensitive fingers slowly smoothing down the up-thrust crevice between her buttocks; down between the soft, hair-fringed lips of her vagina, spreading them open against her will to tease her tiny clitoris. Sally couldn't hold back a soft groaning cry from the tingling sensation, and then as he parted her pussy lips still wider, he used his other hand to thrust deep inside her involuntarily moistening cunt. She groaned against the tarp with hopeless despair, futilely trying to keep control of her perversely rising emotions.
Then without warning, Felix stretched out on his back beside her, wrapping his arms around her naked body and pulling her over so that she was lying on top of him. "I like it when the woman rides on top," he muttered huskily. "Kneel on either side of my hips and ride me like a pony."
"Go on," Stan urged harshly. "Do what he wants!"
Sally complied without hesitation, knowing full well that Stan would only hit her again if she defied him further. She levered up on her arms, her long brunette hair flowing down over her bowed head and sweeping the naked Felix's chest, her breasts swaying sensuously with their erect little nipples lightly touching against his skin. She knelt straddling with her thighs splayed widely on either side of his hips, sensing his hardened penis pointing directly upwards at the finger-dilated slit of her pussy.
Sally thought of what was going to follow, and tossed her head from side to side, tears streaming down the delicate conformity of her cheeks. Through her tear-blurred eyes, she could see him holding the length of his cock in his hand and taunting it up against the spread pink flesh of her cunt With its blunted head. The immediate contact of its satiny warmth against the tingling skin of her vaginal opening instigated unwanted little carnal sensations which seeped insidiously up through her submissively bent loins. But then ...
"Uggg," she breathed as she felt the hard pressure of his entry against the tight elastic orifice of her cunt.
"Relax," Stan panted at her with sadistic lewdness. "You don't want Felix to think you don't like his prick, do you?"
Felix wrapped his hands tightly around Sally's waist to hold her securely atop his penis. "She loves it, Stan," he grunted at her husband. "She's a natural!" Then he shoved upwards again, harder between her pussy lips, forcing a deep mewl to burst from her mouth. He flexed again another moan a lesser moan, as her clenching pelvis absorbed more of his penetrating shaft. Then this dirty, balding man who was fucking her in front of her husband's glinting eyes, began a quick revolving motion with his slender hips, pumping his long tumescent cock tightly up into her expanding belly with swift rabbit-like thrusts that scraped erotically against her nerves.
"Ohhhh ... " she groaned, half in pleasure, half in torment.
Hot wheezy breaths coursed over her naked sweating body as Stan and Oscar crowded in closer. Sally was shamefully aware of them leering at her being skewered by their drinking buddy beneath her, sensing their fingers and hands kneading her breasts and bouncing buttocks until her flesh felt covered with tiny crawling insects. The body shop had become to her like a ramshackle octopus with hundreds of grasping tentacles reaching out obscenely to crush her into helplessness.
"Ohhhh ... " she moaned hysterically again, unable to stifle her increasingly rapturous craving. "Ohhh nooo ... Ohhhh yessss ... "
The other two men viewed lustfully within inches of Felix's buried cock, virulently aroused by the sight of Sally's tight cunt swallowing so much hardened male flesh. From both sides of the smelly tarp hands rubbed lewdly over the moon-curved cheeks of her deeply impaled buttocks, fingers pulling cruelly at the hair-fringed slit cresting vulnerably between them.
Stan's fingertip curled down to probe his wife's tiny puckered anus, flicking teasingly at it like a worming probe. Sally winced as it abruptly popped through the tight surround sphincter ring and dug deeply up inside her rectum. He moved around, expanding the tiny anal muscle until the palm of his intruding hand lay flat against her ass-cheeks, the whole middle finger sunk painfully inside her throbbing belly. Then as his pal Felix increased the tempo of his searing fuck of Sally's moistly stretched pussy, Stan joined the pistoning cock in a rhythmic sawing that brought moans and whines gasping from his wife's bubbling mouth in time to their simultaneous ravishment.
Gradually the pain in her rectum was beginning to ease, and a weird sensation of fulfillment slowly eroded the last of her resistance. Her hips began an involuntary gyration in masochistic concert with the building speed of the cock and finger screwing into her backsides.
"Ohhh yes, yesss, fuck me! Oh, you miserable bastards, fuck me like thissss ... ! " she crooned, squirming her body lewdly around among the myriad of hands and fingers that were crawling relentlessly over her tingling flesh. God, she was a prisoner, a helpless slave in bondage to the delightful raping of her cunt and ass-hole!
Incapable of merely standing by and watching the passion-inciting scene another moment longer, fat hulkish Oscar rose up from where he'd been crouching alongside Sally's dual-speared loins. He'd agreed with Stan and Felix to wait his turn, but staring at every salacious act that had happened to his friend's groveling wife had goaded his mean, vulgar mind beyond endurance. His hairy, unwashed loins blazing with desire, Oscar moved on the tarpaulin in front of her, and then his grubby hands lifted her head up to face him. His ruttish cock stabbed without warning between Sally's fish-gaping lips, forcing her to gag as he rammed his meaty shaft down her throat, its entire length disappearing into her automatically ovaling lips almost to the hilt. His great sac of testicles slapped harshly against her chin, his thick pubic curls brushing her tender skin like coiling strands of barbed wire.
"Suck my pecker, toots," he snarled down at Stan's sputtering wife. "This is my body shop, and tonight you're my body, just like Stan says. So suck, toots, suck me good!"
Instantly Oscar pounded his hips against her face, sliding his thick erection in and out of her choking mouth like a monstrous rat-tail file, striking her throat and larynx with its blunt rubbery cockhead the way he'd pound out a fender dent with a ball-peen hammer. Sally could smell the foul odor of his pubic loins and taste the salty film of dirt and secretions that coated his blood-engorged hardness. Her mind wandered in revulsion and horror, the act of having to suck so filthy and stenchy a penis as this slob of a man's filling her with such repugnance that nothing mattered except to get it over with as quickly as possible. And to get it over with she had to please Oscar and her other cruel punishers. She had to any idea of leaving this tarpaulin before they wanted her to was a proven impossibility.
She began sucking to please Oscar, running her tongue wetly around and around the lubricated head and flicking the tip teasingly into the tiny open slit to draw out his seminal juices. Any moment it could suddenly gush in a vast fountain of foul semen, she knew, that would bloat out her cheeks and fill her stomach in a never-ending stream of memory. A memory she could never forget as long as she lived blotting out her chances for happiness and a normal relationship with her husband until her body rotted in a grave and her soul was roasting in hell. She was completely at the mercy of Stan and his crew of sadistic friends, but she would show them. They wanted her to perform like a whore, then a whore she would be! They wanted her to fuck, she would fuck! They wanted her to suck, she would suck!
Her head bobbed up and down slavishly over Oscar's thick shaft, sucking to end it once and for all. Her tormented mind droned on senselessly, the very wretchedness of her cruel yet needful penance excusing away the returning sensations of eager desire that were again rising erotically in her belly. Yes ... Oh God, yes, she deserved this castigation ... She deserved even worse to purge her sins ... Worse discipline, more penalties ... Oh Lord, if there could only be more . !
As if in obscene answer, she heard her husband laugh sardonically behind her undulating buttocks. "Now for the best punishment of all, Sally! You made an ass out of me, so it's only fair that I make your ass in turn!"
Sally couldn't believe what Stan was threatening. She had prepared herself for a gang-bang by him and his friends, and even this gross sucking of Oscar's smelly penis was a purgatory she could live through. But what Stan was promising to do to her wasn't human! It wasn't right! He couldn't mean it! Not if he loved her, even cared for her still a little bit! He was just trying to frighten her more, that was it, trying to make her plead and crawl to him, begging for forgiveness, he wouldn't really make love to her back there where his finger was stabbing, not like an animal! She clenched her legs and buttocks together, grinding her thighs deeper onto Felix's erection, in an inadvertent reaction to the horrible thought.
"You're still too tight," Stan gloated from his position. "I'd better stretch your ass-hole a little more."
Sally felt his finger probing and rummaging painfully around her anal canal, and she bucked from the sharp agony, sliding her ovaled mouth more violently over Oscar's surging cock. Tears of hurt and anguish trickled down her cheeks as the realization came to her that Stan had not been fooling her. He was actually going to plant his hard penis fully up her virginal rectum in an unnatural perversion that she hadn't even known existed begore tonight. This was truly the ultimate requital, and she cowered as she thought how she would be sodomized while simultaneously being forced to fuck and suck in the most obscene and degrading sexual sandwich ever devised. She would never live through this could never face her husband again after this horrifying chastisement. She cringed her soft rounded buttocks away from Stan, but it was futile. He dug his hand savagely up the tender channel of her back passage, expanding it more mercilessly as he prepared for his assault.
As suddenly as he had shoved in his finger, he pulled it back out of her anus again. It seemed to slip out reluctantly, the elastic clamp of her rectum clinging to it until it popped out with a loud corking sound. He forced her legs wider and then lowered his naked body until he was straddling both her thighs and the pummeling hips of his buddy Felix. His hands grasped harshly, holding her thighs steady, and then Sally felt his long turgid penis impress itself against the moist naked split of her buttocks. She moaned from the initial pressure, and jerked forward in an attempt to evade his impalement.
"Hold her steady, Oscar!" Stan shouted at his friend. "This bitch of a wife is trying to avoid me again!"
Oscar's hands quickly dug into Sally's shoulders, pressing them hard so she could not move. She was wide and defenseless before the abnormal onslaught of her vengeful husband behind her, as his muscular groin and throbbing cock pressing against her upturned crotch. She screamed and groaned but her voice was muddled from the thick stump of flesh which filled her mouth, and even if she had been heard distinctly, it would have been to no avail.
Stan heaved forward with a single tremendous drive, his buttocks drumming his erect penis deep into her pain-lanced rectum.
"Aaaaiiieee!" Sally squealed around Oscar's cock. "I can't take it! You're tearing me in half!"
Her anguished protests fell on deaf ears. As if by a prearranged signal, Stan and Felix began fucking her in unison, their drubbing erections separated only by the thin membranous wall between Sally's vaginal and rectal tunnels. They fucked her together until only their engorged cockheads remained inside her, Felix's held in place by the inner lips of her yearning cunt, and
Stan's clutched by the constricting, sensation-filled ring of her anus. Then the two men plunged back inside her, their swollen hardnesses pushing against each other along the twin channels of her writhing belly.
"Oh ... Oh ... Oh, it's killing, it's killing me ... " Sally muttered, shuddering while she continued sucking. She gasped and moaned from the excruciating agonies searing up through her belly, hearing Stan's grunts of pleasure and hating her body for the joy it was giving him and his crude friends and was beginning to give to herself, she sobbingly had to admit. Trapped in this humiliating position while three brutish men fucked into her simultaneously was a demoralizing triple scourge she simply could not ignore. She had to end it, she had to, and she prayed for the strength to finish pleasing all of them.
And as she continued buffeting between the trio of cocks, the raging fire of pain caused by her husband's sodomy began to lessen, a masochistic ambivalence of pain and rapture starting in her loins. There seemed to be growing a deviously pleasurable sensation in her moistening anus, different than the fucking of her vagina, yet definitely just as arousing. Crazy thoughts spun through her mind now, thoughts of such a lewd and lascivious nature as to make her shake with their wickedness. She was beginning to enjoy her own punishment! Oh ... Oh God, was there no end to how debauched she could become?
Her feverish mind began to fill with torrential emotions and she willed her energies to the skewering penises. Everything else her fear, her self-guilt, her desire to repent all were shoved more and more to the periphery of her consciousness as the sensations in her body grew and her unleashed urges responded with a greed that swamped every fiber and sinew of her naked flesh. She found that she was responding, really responding, and her complexion changed from that of pallor to the flush of sexual frenzy. She bared her teeth around Oscar's cock as further explosions of overwhelming delight emanated from her cunt and anus. Dear Lord! She was hopelessly impaled, and her brain became an inferno of lust. Sensuous thrills catapulted from one end of her being to the other as further she sunk to the pleasurability of her torture.
"More!" she pleaded ecstatically. "Mmmmmm-nnnnnng . ! "
They gave her more, heaving and crashing into her vulnerable body like the battering waves of an ocean storm. Again and again they fucked into her orifices, their testicles making harsh slapping sounds when they hit flesh. Deliriously, Sally massaged the heavy scrotum of Oscar's balls, his hard shaft completely absorbed between her pursing lips. She sucked in time to the mighty pummeling she was experiencing in her pussy and ass-hole, her tongue flickering around in greedy supplication while she worked her buttocks to the relentless hammerings of Felix and her husband.
"Ahhhh!" yelled Stan, and his hardened cock grew and expanded in her tightly stretched rectum until Sally thought it would rupture her belly. Oh God, cum, cum, cum, she mutely prayed while continuing to suck Oscar dry, her buttocks screwing back against her husband's penis wildly.
Stan groaned out incoherently, shoving forward as thick semen was propelled into the depths of he bowels. She knelt with Oscar's rapidly deflating penis still draining in her mouth and Felix's already limp cock lying in her vagmna, and pressed against her husband's groin as he poured forth his seed, filling her anal passage to the bursting point with his burning, avenging cum.
With a deep-throated groan, Sally began to vibrate with her own shuddering climax as she felt her husband's punishing sperm shoot deep up inside her belly. Her head whirled in depraved sensuality as the powerful spurts surged through her intestines, her smoothly rounded buttocks contracting as the hot wet passage of her rectum clamped desperately at the ejaculating cock. Her backsides glistened, displaying soaked pubic hair and pink flesh, as, nearly unconscious, Sally slowly rolled off the three now flaccid penises which had so thoroughly filled her every orifice. She lay comatose between the sprawled bodies of Felix and Oscar, her legs sprawling immodestly wide, small trails of white semen trickling down from her open vagina to mingle with the warm cum oozing from her anus, then flow with her secretions along her thighs and puddle on the damp tarpaulin.
She was so close to fainting, that she was not cognizant of Stan moving around to the spread crevice of her loins. Nor did she consciously feel her husband when he lay down contentedly between her split legs, his head gently nuzzling into the soft, wetly matted hair of her dually ravished pubic mound.
CHAPTER TEN
Slowly, Sally Carstair's senses began to return to her, and her lethargic glow of satisfaction began to fade as she remembered how she had been fulfilled ... and why. Stan had truly conquered her, and she had completely surrendered herself to him and his buddies, doing everything he wished to everybody he wanted. And she loved him for it. Less than a day before he'd been a savage, raping beast, but now he was her pleasure-giving master, and if she'd been able to, she would have offered herself to him body and soul for the rest of their lives together.
But it was too late. With returning bitterness she knew he hated and despised her, taking her with vengeance and fury, not with love and affection, his sole purpose to punish her and then drive her away ...
"Shit," Oscar sighed from where he was collapsed.
"Yeah," groaned Felix, licking his lips. "Jesus, what a fuck. You sure got one hell of a hot wife, Stan."
Sally cringed, waiting for the blistering sarcasm and contemptuous denial she was certain would come from her husband's lips. Wife? She was an ez-wife, she thought, in all but formality.
"Sure is," Stan replied, stretching between her legs. "She just needed breaking in, like a new engine."
Sally was struck dumb by Stan's gentle words. Unable to stop herself, she raised up her head and stared at her husband, and saw an infinite amount of tenderness in his expression as he gazed back at her. She opened her mouth to speak several times before she managed to say anything at all.
"But ... But you hate me, Stan. You hate and despise me for being unfaithful. That's why you ... well, you did this."
"Yes, that's why, and I did," he confessed. "When you came here all I wanted to do was hurt and punish you. But not any longer." He looked at her with passionate eyes. "You see, I love you, Sally. I've discovered I can't stop loving you, no matter what you've done."
"And I ... I love you, darling," Sally murmured warmly.
"I've been thinking that perhaps this all was for the best, somehow. I mean, we were heading for a divorce before. Now that you've learned the joy of sex, there's even more for me to love. Don't you see? You're all woman, now."
"Your woman, Stan. Remember that always. And you're right, Stan, I'm no longer a frightened young girl. I've found myself, and God be willing, I've found you as well."
"We'll stay together ... forever."
They lay resting, regathering their strength, and Stan and Sally Carstairs knew that the night was not yet over that the games they would indulge in would go on past the approaching dawn and far into the future. It was only a matter of who would make the first move to start things again, and they smiled at each other, looking forward to when they confronted Jake and Marge with their new way of life.
Sally leaned around and softly kissed her husband. God, how fulfilling her life would be from now on! Yes ... everything had miraculously turned out right after all!
