"Americans have little faith. They rely on the power of the dollar," said Ralph Waldo Emerson, the great nineteenth century American poet, essayist and philosopher. And more recently, the poet-humorist Ogden Nash said: "Certainly, there are lots of things that money won't buy, but it's very funny-Have you ever tried to buy them without money?"
All things considered, it seems probable that modern Americans spend more time thinking, talking and writing about money than any other people at any time in history. Money, or the lack of it, is an ever-present concern. And while the acquisition of large sums of money makes sweeping changes in the lives of many of us, those changes are not always the ones we would predict.
In a perceptive new book, Wealth: the Passport to Sexual Excess, Clark Gifford puts it this way: "One of the most important aspects of personal adjustment is the cultural role with which the individual identifies and which provides him with a life-style and a pattern which guides him in action. He is spared the trauma of constant dislocation and disorientation by the framework which his cultural role provides for him. Obviously, such a cultural role as is provided by the highest and wealthiest level of society is much different from those that may be afforded at other levels of society.
"As a result of this difference in social and cultural identification the problems and ability to tolerate problems will be often quite markedly different from those in a different social setting, not only in financial ability to meet these problems but in the very strength of the individual's ability to face up to them and overcome them. Strength or weakness of the individual may well be conditioned over the long period by the social milieu in which he lives. Removing a person from one environment and subjecting him to a new one may result in a completely altered ability to deal with a particular problem.
"A great deal may depend on whether a person has been raised in the setting of wealth and stability or whether he has only recently elevated himself (or been elevated) into the upper classes. The very rich, with their access to the very best in education, have a means of inculcating a standard, uniform outlook on life and living. This may prove to be either a strength or a weakness, depending on how it prepares a person for living outside of those conditions. And, depending upon the individual circumstances, the brains and effort required to gain entrance into the upper classes may give a person the training and discipline that cannot be acquired by any means but hard work."
Wealth, of course, is a comparative thing. Housewife for Blackmail, the new novel by Marshall Roberts that you are about to read, is not about extremely rich people. It is, however, about people who have suddenly become rich by any standards they have known in the past. It is, to be precise, about two young couples who have arrived at positions that could certainly be described as well-to-do-but who have arrived there by very different means indeed.
Sheila Baines, a girl who has known a lifetime of poverty, has recently married Scott Baines, a struggling young stockbroker. Scott's own life has been one of very hard work, but the fruits of his labors have begun to appear as he applies them in the generally wealthy community of Carmel, California. Sheila and Scott now have all the money they really need, but that does not mean they have no problems. In fact, Scott is working so hard that he has little time for anything else, which creates problems for Sheila, who finds herself frustrated and unhappy.
The other couple, Mike Curtis and Marsha Evans, are making money hand over fist by the much less respectable method of making pornographic movies. They are hedonistic swingers, typical of today's most amoral younger generation. They do not for a moment doubt their ability to enjoy their newfound riches to the hilt. But, in a strange way, Sheila's problem becomes a problem for them, too. Their lives are inextricably interwoven.
Sheila knew Mike and Marsha before marrying Scott and trying to adopt a new life-style. She knew them intimately, and was a swinger right along with them when they were all poor. They do not believe she has really changed, and they particularly do not believe she should have changed. Once a swinger, always a swinger is their philosophy. They are hurt at the idea of having "lost" Sheila, jealous of her new way of living, and insulted because they think she has snubbed them. They are determined to bring her back down to their level, force her to take part in their nefarious activities, and return to the wild, swinging existence with them. If blackmail is what it will take to recapture her, then blackmail is what they will use.
And Sheila, indeed, finds there are many things money won't buy as she struggles with these new problems. Money, obviously, has created problems for her and given her no corresponding solutions. Whether there are any eventual solutions or not the reader will discover in this gripping, penetrating novel-which is very much a document for our money-oriented and frequently puzzling times.
The Publishers Chatsworth, Cal. January, 1973
CHAPTER ONE
Carmel, California, is called by many the greatest and most dramatic meeting of land and sea. The rounded peninsula thrusts out into the Pacific Ocean, and the mountains seem to rush into the sea in a wild plunge. High above Carmel, cows graze in mountain fields. Great walls of sea fog blow in, chilling the air. The ocean is a gentle sparkling blue or, in a matter of hours, a churning gray with crashing, foaming surf. The sand is a powdered white and the Carmel River empties into the Pacific, cutting a clean path through the pure sand. To this spot, to this beauty, tourists come from all over the world.
Carmel itself is a lovely little town full of beautiful and highly individualized homes on quiet streets that meander under spreading shade trees. It is against the law to cut a tree down in Carmel and streets are paved around old pines that stand resolute as cars go around them. Carmel is quaint in a charming sense and everything about it encourages one to lead the quiet life. Almost every home has a lawn and fireplace. Most homes are expensive and tastefully done in a country style. Most of the people who live in Carmel are retired and range in status from well-to-do to rich.
One exception was Scott Baines. He was not rich. He lived in Carmel in a modest cottage with his young, voluptuous and darkly attractive wife, Sheila. Scott had inherited a modest sum when his father died and was determined to make a fortune on his own. He was a young stockbroker in Carmel, eager to get ahead. He felt he must appeal to the older generation of investors in Carmel by showing them that he was reliable and serious.
So he dressed conservatively, in quiet grays and muted charcoal blacks with sober striped ties and white shirts. He strove, at work and at home, to show his sincerity and dependability. He smiled at Sheila in an indulgent way and quietly, carefully, he said, "We've got to instill trust. We've got to show Carmelites that they can trust me to look after their interests and investments. Honey, you've got to remember that when we're dining out or when you're shopping downtown. You've got to realize you're projecting our image all the time."
Sheila Baines was extremely "image" conscious. She was much more conscious of her image than Scott ever suspected. Sheila had a past to hide and live down, a past that none of her current friends knew anything about. She was afraid to tell her husband about that past and dreaded the day he might ever find out about it. It was the one thing in her life that nagged at her and made an otherwise lovely existence uneasy.
Sheila was happy to be married to Scott and loved him deeply because he treated her decently, with love and respect. Carmel was a lovely place to live and full of interesting people to know. Their cottage was small but pleasant, being an older Carmel home, a board-and-batten cottage near the beach. Sheila loved the cool evenings when they sat around the fire and heard the distant boom of surf. She thrilled to the late-night sound of wind in the tall trees blowing in off the ocean as they lay in bed together, snug in the dark.
Her life was so quietly beautiful that Sheila sometimes forgot about her past and enjoyed the present to the hilt, a smiling girl with smoldering, gypsy-style beauty. She had long jet-black hair in a thick mane around her exotic face and smoky eyes that had long dark lashes splaying out. Her smile was slow and sensuous on her indulgent soft lips. She wore very little makeup, just enough to accentuate her features. Her eyes were big and alluring and her nose was elegant and thin, flaring out in sensuous nostrils that quivered when she laughed, giving her the look of a wild gypsy flamenco dancer.
It was natural that men were attracted to her and that one thought dominated all others when they saw her. Sex. Sheila Baines reeked of a refined lust in her every look and motion. It was her movement that first attracted attention. She was tall and slender and voluptuous with a natural hip action as smooth as oiled ball bearings. Her breasts were firm and well-developed, and unless she was careful, unless she wore a tight bra, her breasts jiggled and quivered when she walked. Except for modesty and tradition, she didn't need a bra, for her heavy breasts were full and rounded and quivered as if they were full of some warm liquid. Her whole walk was a fluid tease as she went down the street. To please her husband, she walked carefully and dressed conservatively. But, no matter what she did, she couldn't hide her saucy, provocative walk that turned men's heads and made women go narrow-eyed with envy.
Sheila was well-endowed with bold exciting good looks and a slender body that was lithe and moved with the effortless squirming grace of a panther about to pounce.
Men in downtown Carmel watched Sheila's progress on her way to the post office and speculated about her. Several of the more daring struck up conversations with her. All of them-failed to score and word soon got around. "Save your breath," was the word. "That one has all the equipment but she has it in cold storage."
"No kidding?"
"Listen, with that babe, it's always winter. It's always that way ... the biggest knockouts are the coldest fish in bed."
Sheila was anything but a cold fish. In fact, she was just the opposite and fought with a desperate kind of control to repress herself when Scott made love to her. She forced herself into a passive role and let him make love on top of her. Still, try as she might, she couldn't keep her hips from churning and grinding wildly as he drove for his orgasm. Her lewd behavior as she wiggled and undulated her hips drove Scott mad with desire and he always came quickly, groaning and rolling off her immediately afterwards.
Sheila was just as glad for their sex life and the fact that Scott seldom demanded she have sex. Too much sex would lead her back to her old life, her past, her secret that Scott didn't know about or suspect.
Only one year in the past, before she had met and married Scott, she had been living in San Francisco. She had been working as a secretary in the financial district when she met Mike Curtis and Marsha Evans. She was just getting over a broken romance and was ripe for Mike and Marsha. Together, they led her into a life of excitement, illicit thrills, and eventual depravity and humiliation.
But that was all behind her and Sheila tried not to think of it. She had simply packed up one day and moved down to Carmel, finding herself a furnished room and a job in one of the many gift stores in the downtown section. She was determined to make a decent life for herself, and she succeeded, when she met Scott Baines. Their courtship was a whirlwind affair and they were married by a justice of the peace in Monterey.
Life with Scott was everything she could ask for and she was happy in their home and with their friends. Scott seemed to be making headway at his career and all was well with the world. In fact, Sheila found her early life full of lurid memories retreating in her mind. It was all past, gone, over and done with.
All over and done with, that is, until one day, while walking to the post office in downtown Carmel, Sheila froze, a smile melting from her face and a cold, heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"Sheila!"
She wanted to keep walking, to run, for she knew the voice.
"Say, isn't that Sheila? Hey, Sheila!"
"It is, it's Sheila!"
She turned, standing on the tree-shaded street with birds chirping above and tourists drifting arm in arm along the block, and saw Mike Curtis and Marsha Evans. It was almost as if her heart stopped beating and her smile was a sickly thing as she saw Mike and Marsha hurrying toward her.
They had changed. Mike's hair was now long and his clothing was different. Once a sharp dresser in continental suits, he was now wearing bell-bottomed tight-fitting pants and beads over a florid shirt. Marsha was more wanton and debauched-looking than ever, wearing a long skirt slit up the side to her hip and no bra. Her big lovely breasts jiggled and jumped under the dress and her pointed nipples pressed against the soft material.
They rushed at Sheila and embraced her. "Jesus Christ, it's Sheila!"
She was embarrassed and awkward as she pulled away from the embraces that had once been so familiar to her as she tried to smile and laugh and pretend she was glad to see them. "Mike! Marsha! How are you?"
Mike's mouth was open with pleased astonishment as he stepped back to look at her with an admiring eye. "How am I? How are you? Sheila! Jesus! You just disappeared! I asked all over and nobody knew where you went."
Marsha's grin was wicked as she too stepped back to look at Sheila's tempting face and figure. "I asked everybody. Nobody knew a thing. Honey, why did you run away?"
"I didn't." Sheila was flustered. People were looking at the three of them. "I did. Look, it's a long story. See?" She wiggled the third finger of her left hand, holding it up so that they could see the wedding ring. "I'm married now."
"Far out." Mike took her by the arm. "Listen, we've got a lot to tell each other. Let's go have a drink some place."
Sheila agreed quickly, eager to get off the street. She took them to a little bar that was out of the way. She knew that not many Carmelites went to the bar. It was considered a tourist trap by the regulars and business was slow in the afternoon. They walked quickly, Sheila nervous and making small talk. She couldn't help wondering: what if Scott should see me with these two? What if friends should see me? She was tense and walked quickly, asking questions in order to give herself time to think while Mike and Marsha talked both at once.
They settled at a table in the semi-dark of the bar and ordered drinks, and Mike set the tone by staying, "Now. Before we get yakking, I want to know something. Why did you just suddenly disappear?"
"Me too," Marsha said, putting her elbows on the table and leaning forward, exposing her deep fleshy cleavage while she grinned knowingly at Sheila. It was almost as if she expected Sheila to give some lewd and depraved reason for leaving San Francisco.
Sheila took a breath. The dreaded thing had happened. Her past had caught up with her; all the wild things she had done had now caught up with her in the form of Mike and Marsha. It was time to pay the piper. Sheila exhaled in a long sigh and gathered up courage to face the truth. "I ran away."
Mike frowned. "Something I did?"
Sheila shook her head.
"Me?" Marsha's voice was throaty and insinuating.
She smiled, shaking her head. "No, it wasn't anything anybody did to me, it was what I was doing to myself. Honestly, there were times when I wanted to kill myself. There were times when I was so lonely and so ashamed of what I had done. I got to wondering just how long I could live that way. I just suddenly decided to get away. Leave. Change my whole way of life."
They sat silent for a few moments, all of them looking at their drinks. Mike heaved a sigh and shook his head. "Wow. Far out."
"Yeah," Marsha said. "I know the feeling."
"You do?" Tears brimmed gratefully in Sheila's eyes.
"Yeah. Sure." Mike patted her hand. "Hell, and all this time I thought it was something I had done to you."
"Yeah. Me too."
Sheila bit her lip. She had forgotten how nice they could be. "Hey, we understand," Mike said reassuringly. "Hell, you should have talked to us about it. Hey, we're your friends."
She knew it. Suddenly, in their presence, a flood of memories came back. They weren't really bad people ... just different.
"Hey, we're all friends. Tell us what you're doing down here married to some guy. Who is he? What does he do? What's his con?"
Trustingly, Sheila told them. She told the truth as simply and directly as possible. She told them the story in detail over their drinks. Mike ordered another round as she talked and Sheila found herself drinking out of nervous energy. "So," she summed up, "I guess you can put me down. I guess you can say I sold out."
"Hey, what kind of talk is that? Listen, this is Mike. And Marsha. Listen, I'm happy for you. If you dig it, I'm for it!"
"Same here," Marsha said with a lazy shrug. "If it turns you on, baby."
They toasted one another and Sheila laughed with a released delight. She drank as she thought: I've nothing to be afraid of. They're my friends.
They ordered another round of drinks as Sheila looked more closely at Mike and Marsha and asked them what they were doing.
Mike-had grinned that old big city torn cat grin and said, "I'm cleaning up. I've hit it big. Both of us are making money too fast to count."
Sheila was impressed. "What are you doing?"
Mike and Marsha exchanged a knowing smile. "Oh, you could say we've gone into show business."
Marsha laughed throatily. "Mike's a producer."
"Producer? You're doing plays?" Sheila was intrigued yet guarded because of the way they were grinning.
"I'm in films," Mike said after looking around to see if anyone else was listening.
It was almost as if Sheila knew without his saying what kind of films he was making. Their-Mike's and Marsha's-whole background was right for it. It was only logical. Sheila looked at Mike's twinkling eyes as she said in a low voice, "You're making pornographic films."
Marsha laughed. "Hard core, honey."
Mike nodded. "The whole situation has changed up in San Francisco. Almost like the gold rush days all over again. Them that got, gets. I'm in there making a small fortune. Shoot one a week and they play in a house the minimum of a month. If they catch on, they can run for months. Imagine earning a couple of grand a day every day. Hell, I got three films playing now.
"Hey, I got a fourth with me, back at the hotel. Want to see it?"
Sheila smiled painfully and shook her head. "I'm sorry, but that's all behind me now."
"Come on, for old time's sake."
"Yeah," Marsha said, chuckling. "I'm in it."
"Hell, she stars in it. You should see her go." Mike slapped his forehead. "What am I saying? You've seen old Marsha in action. Hell, we had some good times, didn't we?"
Embarrassed, feeling an uncomfortable flush and just a touch of that old lust and lewdness, Sheila shifted in her chair and fumbled for her drink. With a start, she looked at her watch and realized how much time had gone by and how much she had had to drink. She wasn't used to much drinking except for a cocktail before dinner. Her head was spinning and she looked at her drink in amazement. It was full!
"Bottoms up," Mike said.
Marsha leered. "Here? Oh, you mean a toast. Sure. Here's to Sheila and the good times we all had."
Sheila reluctantly sipped her drink. She was beginning to feel a little smashed and knew she had to be careful. How was she going to explain to Scott, who didn't like drinking?
"How about it? How about us getting a little food and something to drink and go back to our hotel room and see that old movie?" Mike asked, leaning forward.
"Yeah," Marsha whispered in a husky voice, "I've got some groovy grass. We all can get stoned and watch the movie of me.
Sheila swallowed. It seemed to take her minutes to swallow and find her voice. "I'm sorry, but I can't. My husband doesn't like things like that."
Mike shrugged. "He doesn't have to know. Just come up now for a little while."
Nervously, Sheila raked her hand through her wild black mane of hair and swallowed again, lacing her hands in front of her. "I'm sorry," she said again, "but I'm different now. I've changed my life. I don't think I'd want to see that film. I'm not that way any more."
Mike looked at her for a moment before nodding. "Sure. Okay. I get it. You're different. Okay, no harm done, but if you should change your mind, we're staying at the Pine Inn. That's the best place in town, huh? Pretty ritzy inside."
They sat in silence again until Mike looked at Marsha and said, "Maybe we'd better split."
Marsha nodded, getting up quickly. "Sure, I don't like staying any place I'm not wanted."
Sheila winced. She knew she hadn't said it well, she knew she had hurt their feelings. She felt badly and looked away. It was a rotten way to treat someone who had never hurt her. Still, how could she explain them to Scott? What would he say about them? What would he do if he ever found out about her past? Her love for Scott and her fear of what he would say and do frightened her. Life without Scott was unimaginable.
Sheila looked up to see the beautifully wild and depraved face of Marsha glaring down. She was standing with her pelvis thrust out, her hand on her hip. She stood in the dim room like a wild wanton women who was defiant of the world. Carefully, quietly, she said, "I'm sorry if I took up your time. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry I ever knew you." She spun on her heel and slowly walked out.
Mike, ever the smooth operator, always poised and mildly ironic, shrugged and said, "Sorry for the way it came out. Look, I understand your trip, don't worry. We're only here for overnight before we go on down the coast to Big Sur tomorrow morning." He took her hand in both of his. "Listen, it was great to see you. Really. I mean it. Honest. It was great. If you change your mind, we're at the Pine Inn, and if we don't see you, good luck, hear? So long."
She watched Mike swing easily out of the bar and into the Carmel sunshine and out of sight. It was as if he had just walked in and then out of her life, and she heaved a sigh. Mike would never hurt her. Ruefully she smiled, knowing that she had hurt him. And Marsha. She had implied that they weren't good enough, that she was ashamed of them and her own past.
She drained her drink and motioned to the cocktail waitress to order another. She drank it slowly, sitting alone, feeling dirty all over for what she had done to Mike and Marsha.
CHAPTER TWO
Sheila drove home slowly, carefully. Carmel streets turn and wind and there are many intersections with blind approaches. Even when sober, it is wise to drive through Carmel carefully. Little old ladies with gimlet eyes pilot big cars as if they were driving tanks, as if their very age and meanness made them impervious to accidents. Carmel is a small town where old men and women ruthlessly crush fenders and blame one another.
Sheila drove slowly, carefully, conscious of the drinks she had consumed. She planned on taking a good shower, drinking some black coffee, and brushing her teeth, making herself presentable before Scott came home.
She caught her breath with a quick gasp as she saw Scott's car standing outside their attractive little cottage. She ran into the house and straight into Scott's strong arms, which closed like bands of steel around her slender waist. He kissed her, laughing. "Hey, guess who had a drink for lunch?"
"Why are you home so early?" Sheila pulled away, looking at her husband with a slightly drunken concern.
"I've got to be in L.A. by eight tonight." He shot a cuff out and narrowed his eyes at his watch. "Got to get to the airport. Listen, remember my telling you about Bartman? Abe Bartman? Well, he's going to be in L.A. overnight and it's my one chance to meet him and talk to him. It's all arranged. We're having dinner tonight." He hurried into their bedroom where he was packing an overnight bag. His manner was quick and sure and his face serious as he looked up at Sheila. "You've had a few, don't you think?"
Sheila folded her hands properly, trying to hide just how much she had to drink. "Two," she lied. "I met some old friends."
"Oh?" Scott cocked an eyebrow, and Sheila disliked him when he did that. He looked so coldly superior.
"Some people I knew in San Francisco." Sheila felt guilty and ill at ease under his cold stare.
"Uh huh. Where did you have the drinks?"
"The El Matador."
"The Matador! That dump. Don't you hear the talk about that place?"
Sheila shook her head. Scott's voice was taking on the cold scolding tone he got into whenever he talked of politics or got mad at her.
"The Matador is rumored to be the place to get dope in town. Sheila, I'd be very happy if you never went in that place again."
"Well, I won't." There was an edge to her voice because Scott was talking down to her, and because it had been a rotten day in which she had insulted old friends. And why? For Scott's sake.
"I don't think it does our image any good for you to be seen in places like that."
Sheila forced a smile but clenched her fists. He had a way of humoring her, treating her as if she were a fool or a stupid teenager. She looked at him, trying hard to be pleasant, thinking to herself: if he only knew.
She drove him out to the MPC airport with him lecturing her all the way. "Did anyone see you at the Matador? You know what a little town this is and how people love to talk. I don't know why you picked a spot like that. Who are these friends and are they the type to go to the Matador?"
Sheila gripped the wheel until her knuckles were tight. She fought to control her voice. "All I did was have a couple of drinks. I didn't spit on anyone or strip naked on Ocean Avenue, all I did was have some drinks with old friends."
"Yes, at the Matador."
Wearily, she felt the flow of events. Once an emotion or feeling is started, it is difficult to stop it until it has fulfilled itself. At least, Sheila believed this was true. It had been a bad day for her. She had needlessly hurt old friends. They were wild, but they wouldn't hurt her, and she had hurt them for the sake of her marriage and Scott's spotless reputation. Spotless, pure, and dull. She made a face as she drove, admitting to herself that, wonderful as he was, Scott could sometimes be a pious thundering bore.
He lectured her as they stood in the lobby waiting for the plane. On an impulse, Sheila put her hand on his arm, silencing him. "Could I go with you?"
"What? To L.A.?"
"Why not? We could pick up a toothbrush and a change of underwear. Please let me go with you. I'd love to be with you in L.A."
With just a trace of impatience, Scott explained, "I thought I told you that if I ever got a chance to meet Bartman it would be all business unless wives were specifically invited along."
"Let me go. I won't be any trouble. I'll stay in the hotel room all the time."
"Darling, have you even the foggiest notion of what it would mean if I landed any one of several Bartman accounts?"
"Please take me with you." At that moment Sheila wanted him to say that she was more important than any Bartman account, more important than money. He didn't. He couldn't. He couldn't know what she had done for him earlier in the day. She listened to him talk on while trying to conceal her anger. The day had been a total loss and she could have done without it.
She kissed him goodbye and watched him climb the ramp to the plane, then watched it taxi away and, engines racing, scream down the runway, tilt, and take off, the powerful jet engines whining high and hard as the ship aimed, like an arrow, for the low-hanging cloud cover.
Then it was gone. And Scott was gone. She stood in the middle of the terminal, alone, angry, frustrated. She had known what Scott was like when she married him and she loved him and was determined to stay with him and be a good wife, but ... sometimes he could drive her up the wall.
She drove home angry, wondering is he would ever take the time to listen to her, if he would ever regard her as anything more than another nice ornament to possess. She drove straight home and, tight-lipped, in spiteful defiance, she poured herself a good stiff drink.
It wasn't until the third drink that she suddenly gave out with a mischievous little giggle. She was sitting watching TV while a light, prepared dinner baked in the oven. She suddenly realized that she had the evening free, that she was her own keeper. With a smirk, she decided that she might as well be hanged for a horse thief and made up her mind she would just drive downtown. If she could find a place to park, if it was convenient, she just might go by the Pine Inn. And, if Marsha and Mike were in, if they were in the mood, if it was convenient, she just might go up to their room and see that picture.
"Why not?" she said out loud. She got up and looked for her purse. She could apologize and explain. Besides-her grin was loose and depraved, a kind of grin Scott had never seen-it would be like old times.
As it turned out, there was a parking space available on the little-used street behind the Pine Inn. Several parking spaces, in fact. Sheila went unsteadily into the old dignified inn telling herself she would leave immediately if she met anyone she knew or even if the lobby was busy.
It wasn't. It was deserted. She asked at the desk for Mike, hoping he would be out. She told herself that Mike was the type to dine out, to go out all dressed up and hit the bars before and after dinner.
He wasn't out. He picked up the phone and sounded genuinely delighted to hear Sheila's voice. He insisted that she come up to the room and Sheila finally said, "All right," in a tiny little voice. She hung up the lobby receiver with a little lewd tremor running through her body. She caught her breath, realizing it had been a long time since she had allowed herself to feel that way. She knew what it was like to revel in lewd, uninhibited behavior. She knew her own capacity for such feelings: a capacity that frightened her into leaving San Francisco because she had acquired the reputation and name of nymphomaniac. Once triggered and released, there wasn't anything she wouldn't do. In fact, there wasn't anything sexual that she hadn't already done.
She walked across the plush carpeted lobby with the tall grandfather clock ticking loudly and grandly, like some courtly guardian of eternity, measuring out the time. She walked with a loose wanton stride, her gypsy face dark, her nostrils flaring, her breasts jouncing and quivering ever so gently.
She rode the elevator up to their floor, found their room, and knocked boldly on the door.
Mike threw the door open as if he had been waiting. His legs and feet were bare and he wore an oriental-style robe. "Come on in and have a drink." It was obvious to Sheila by the way he moved and the way the robe fit him that he didn't have anything on underneath.
Sheila walked in and Mike shut the door as she looked at the sullen, hurt gaze of Marsha. She, too, was wearing a robe and little else, because Sheila could see an ample amount of her deep and fleshy cleavage. She sauntered across the room, one hand on her hip, glaring at Sheila. She sat down on the bed and crossed her legs while the robe slipped silken and silent off her knee, revealing once again Marsha's firm and curved leg and thigh, her skin bare and tanned. Sheila had forgotten how beautifully formed Marsha's legs and thighs were. A lubricious thrill swept, like rippling warm water, through her own thighs, and she felt lewd and slightly sluttish. Somehow, she was getting back at Scott. If he was going to be mad at her for having a lousy drink or two in some bar, she was really going to give him something to bitch about. She was going to so amaze him that his eyebrow would be permanently cocked; she was going to so startle him he would never forget it.
Marsha sat slouched on the bed, her knees crossed, showing lots of leg and jiggling cleavage. Her face looked debauched, with circles under her eyes, yet still wickedly attractive. Her breasts were big, nearly as big as Sheila's, and firm and jutting out at an enticing angle with her nipples tipping upward in a lewd, inviting way.
Languidly, she dragged on a homemade cigarette that was obviously marijuana, and looked sullenly at Sheila, a wet, hurt, look in her eyes.
Sheila stepped farther into the room. Mike stood by a small wet bar. The silence in the room was heavy and oppressive. Sheila smiled at Marsha and said, "Marsha, I'm a terrible bitch and I'm sorry."
Marsha relaxed on the bed, falling back on the bed on one elbow. She smiled absently as her gown fell open and both her breasts were completely exposed to view. Sheila saw that they were still firm and shapely, with the nipples visibly hardening. Marsha waved the cigarette. "Shit, I'm so stoned, I couldn't be mad at you."
Both of them laughed and Mike clapped his hands and said, "What will it be? Come on, let's have a drink."
Sheila settled into a big stuffed chair. "Make it a good Scotch for me."
"Me too." Marsha sat up, covering herself and offering the marijuana cigarette. Sheila took it without hesitation. "It's been a long time."
"Mmmmmm." Her eyes half closed, Marsha looked at Sheila's opulent body hidden beneath so much clothing. Naked, Sheila looked like some wild gypsy who should be in a harem. When Sheila was naked and moving sensuously, undulating, unashamed, brazen, lewd, she made men think of a Turkish whorehouse with all sorts of exotic and erotic pleasures. Once past a certain point, Marsha knew that Sheila was a panting, licking, sucking, caressing, undulating animal. "Yes," Marsha said in a smoky, throaty way, "It's been a long time."
Mike brought the drinks and they silently, looking at each other with knowing smirks, toasted one another. They drank and Mike slouched down on the bed next to Marsha and said, "So? Now are we friends?"
"Friends," Marsha said in her alcoholic whisper, smiling at Sheila.
"Friends," Sheila said, smiling at them both. "And I'm sorry for the way I treated you both."
"Forget it," Mike said, draining his glass and getting up and taking Marsha's from her and walking to the bar for quick refills. "Look," he said over his shoulder, "you're here. You came up here. Hell, forget it, we knew you didn't mean it. Hey, didn't we know she didn't mean it, Marsha?"
Marsha looked at Sheila from under her long false eyelashes and slowly smiled. "Mmmmmmmmmmm."
Mike came back and handed Marsha her fresh drink. Sheila couldn't help noticing it was straight whiskey. Mike took her glass from her hand without a word and walked back to the bar. "Something you could do for us...." His voice trailed off as he poured the drink.
"What's that?"
He came back with a deep drink, grinning. "Tell us where the action is."
"Huh?" Sheila grinned. "You're kidding. Action? Well, you could drive around the point and look at the surf. You could go for a walk on the beach. That's always fun. Or you could go shopping at the supermarket or you could go to the bars."
"Mmmmmmm. What happens in the bars?" Marsha asked.
Sheila smiled to herself. It had been a long time since she had talked in this way. With Scott, it wasn't the same. A different reality, he was as solid as a rock ... and about as funny as one, too. He probably wouldn't be able to understand the conversation she was having now. "Nothing happens in the bars. Too many well-heeled tourists. All that happens is that someone gets smashed, that's all. Lots of polite drunks, that's all."
Mike drank and asked, "No action, no kind?"
Sheila shook her head. "None that I know of. May be something happening in Monterey. Sometimes the paper talks about arresting a prostitute, but, outside of that, nothing else that I know of."
Mike grinned and said, "Not true."
Sheila took a drink of the smoky liquid that smoldered deep in her hips and thighs, then fused and smoked in her brain in such an enticing and teasing way. Already she was feeling horny. "Oh? What? And where?"
Mike drank while Marsha let out a throaty chuckle. Mike squinted one eye and pointed a finger. "You are the action in town and you're happening here. Now."
CHAPTER THREE
In Carmel, at the stately Pine Inn, life went on as usual. There was the low hum of polite conversation in the dignified dining room as Filipino waiters moved among the tables with a deadpanned ease. In the cocktail lounge there was amiable laughter as men played dominos at the bar and lovely women sat at tables with their dates. The lobby was quiet, with the night clerk reading a copy of Life magazine and occasionally answering the phone.
Up in Mike and Marsha's room, things were different. The room was silent and only dimly lighted. Fresh strong drinks had been poured by Mike and all three had silently passed around and smoked a newly rolled marijuana joint. The room was hazy with smoke and warm. Sheila slowly licked her sensuous lips with a brazen tongue and slowly, languidly, raked her hand through her thick mane of black hair.
Mike and Marsha were on the bed together and she was watching them. Not a word was spoken. They looked at her but didn't say a word. They didn't have to ask her to join them on the bed, she soon would do so all by herself. They knew her and how lewd she could be, how wanton and truly abandoned she could act.
It had been a long time since she had acted in a salacious way. Sex with Scott was always accomplished with him on top and the lights out. Now she was watching Mike and Marsha stark naked with the lights dimmed down for a better effect. She was drugged and drunk and in a reckless mood. Still, her love for Scott stopped her. Tempted, excited, she feverishly licked her lips and watched.
Marsha was lying on her back, her magnificent body stark naked. Her big breasts spread apart in a lewd and inviting way. Her legs were slightly parted and Sheila watched as Mike's hand caressed Marsha's breasts, massaging them and pinching the already hardened nipples into still greater life. Sheila watched as his hand swept down over her slender well-formed stomach and slipped down to her jutting mound of Venus. Slowly, insinuatingly, his fingers played in her pubic hair, softly massaging the willing flesh underneath. Sheila felt her breath coming light and quick and perspiration forming on her face as she watched two of Mike's fingers slip down on either side of Marsha's vulnerable cunt.
With a low impatient moan, Marsha spread her legs obscenely wide, allowing Mike greater liberties. His two fingers slowly spread, parting the pulpy lips of Marsha's cunt, exposing the coral-pink wetness of her vaginal walls and the erectness of her tiny clitoris. Even as Sheila watched, Mike's thumb came down and carefully teased the oiled clitoris, rubbing it rhythmically, slowly teasing it into greater erectness.
The room was silent except for their breathing and the ticking of a clock. Slowly, lewdly, with a brazen delight, Marsha began pumping her hips back and forth in tempo to Mike's caresses. Sheila licked her lips again and glanced up at their faces. They were both watching her with depraved smiles. She started to get up but her body felt heavy and liquid. She really didn't want to go, but she felt that she must. "I've ... I ... I have to go."
"Stay," Mike whispered. "Just watch."
"Yesssss!" Marsha's voice was low and throaty as she slowly writhed, naked, wanton, already abandoned as Mike slowly plunged his middle finger up into the hot pulpy confines of her cunt. Sheila could see it disappear up to the first knuckle and how Marsha so lewdly thrust her hips up and contracted her vaginal muscles in order to capture the tantalizing finger.
"Stay," she whispered. "Watch us. I like it when somebody watches. I love it!"
And with that, she sat up and rolled over, crouching on all fours, her breasts juggling tightly under her body, her buttocks brazenly and salaciously exposed. Sheila had always thought that Marsha had beautiful buttocks. They were fully rounded and firm, and forbidden delights were hidden in the deep fleshy crevice between them. Marsha knew her ass was tempting and she arched the hollow of her back, thrusting it out toward Sheila in an evil, tempting display, inviting her to do whatever she wanted.
Sheila sank back in her chair with a little moan that could barely be heard. She would leave, she had to leave ... but ... she would leave in a little while.
Mike rolled over on his back with a low masculine moan, anticipating pleasures that were shortly to come. "It's going to be a great night," he whispered up to Marsha, crouched so obscenely over him.
Sheila looked at his body. It was a strong firm body, well-muscled and lean. And he had a big cock. She smiled, looking at his thick erect cock lying obscenely on his stomach. It had been a long time since she had thought in terms of "cock" and "cunt" and it felt good. "Cock." She whispered the word to herself. Mike's cock was big and thick and she knew what he could do with that thing. There had been times when he had literally battered her into submission with his rock-hard cock. There had been times when he had driven her into an ecstatic state of near madness with his wild plunging cock.
Now Marsha was crouched over him and her fingers were twining around the pulsating thickness of his penis and gently squeezing while she grinned at Sheila, silently seeming to say, "See? See how hard it is?"
Marsha lowered that depraved face of hers and her tongue slowly came out of her mouth, pink and wet and hot. Resting her weight on her elbows, she lowered her head and pulled his rigid cock upright with both her hands. Her tongue licked the air a scant inch away from the rounded and burgeoning head. Again Sheila glanced at their faces and saw that they both were turned to her, watching with knowing smirks. Then, as her eyes darted back to Mike's cock, she saw the tip of Marsha's hot and wet tongue attack the very end of Mike's cock, probing for and finding his own sensitive opening.
Mike's body jerked all at once and he let out a low moan as Marsha changed her position slightly and the flat of her tongue licked all around the bulging mushroom head of the prick. Mike moaned more deeply as Marsha's fingers slowly skinned the head free. It came out glistening thickly from her warm saliva. She played with it for a minute, gently stroking it up and down, pulling the skin back and forth like a tight-fitting sheath while her wet tongue flicked out, teasing the cock, lashing it with velvety wet blows.
Mike groaned again and his strong arms, corded with muscles, came down and his fingers tangled in Marsha's hair as his whole body grew tense and rigid. He wanted to fuck Marsha in the mouth while Sheila watched.
He wasn't to be denied for long. With a swoop, Marsha opened her hot wet mouth and took the massive throbbing head and locked her velvet lips around the shaft, capturing the cock as she gently sucked on it.
At the same time she did a further exciting thing: she spread her knees wide apart and moved her lower body around until her buttocks were thrust right at Sheila. Slowly, insinuating, lewdly, wantonly, she began to gyrate her hips and ass in a tempting way. Sheila could see her vaginal lips swollen with excitement as they moved in a pulpy and exciting way.
With a sudden cry of suppressed rage, Mike began fucking in and out of Marsha's willing mouth, thrusting up with masculine ferocity. Sheila watched as the huge veined shaft of his prick disappeared halfway into Marsha's mouth. Her tightly clenched lips seemed to disappear, rolling inward as her cheeks bugged slightly under the savage lewd thrusts. Her cheeks hollowed, giving her a wildly depraved look as he pulled out the wet thick shaft of his cock and her red lips rolled outward as she sucked hard and fought to keep the big bulging prick trapped in the hot confines of her mouth.
Marsha's body was twitching and bucking above Mike's cock as she sucked, her head bobbing rhythmically up and down while her hips undulated and gyrated. Suddenly her passion was too much and she tore herself free with a wild cat-like moan and turned around on the bed. Her head was facing Sheila now as she crouched over Mike, lifting one lovely leg and placing her knees on either side of his head. Mike reached up with his hands and cupped her wide, fanning buttocks with his hands and pulled her cunt down while he buried his face in her crotch and his tongue darted maddeningly in and out of her willing cunt.
Marsha was looking right at Sheila with a wild dreamy look on her face. Her eyes were half closed and her mouth hanging wantonly open as she moaned out her pleasure. Her hips were caught, trapped by Mike's hands, while his mouth ravished her cunt.
"Ooooooooohhhhhhh, baaaaaaaby!!!"
Sheila raked her hand absently through her long thick hair once again as she watched the thrashing bodies on the bed. Marsha, with a wild, depraved smile, turned her attention to Mike's rigid throbbing cock. She took it in both her hands and pulled the foreskin all the way back, exposing the bulging mushroom-shaped head completely. Her hot mouth plunged down over it, sucking rhythmically.
Sheila watched the two bodies writhe in their pagan depraved delight on the bed as they sucked and licked one another with wild abandon. Her hand darted out and snatched up her drink and she gulped down the strong, smoky whiskey as her two friends, naked, perspiring now with their effort and passion, writhed and undulated in a more abandoned way, reaching for a pitch of lewdness. Once there, once wild enough, once aroused and abandoned, Sheila knew what would happen. She sat slumped in a big overstuffed chair, powerless to leave, not really wanting to leave, secretly wanting something to happen.
It happened. The two of them-Mike and Marsha-got so horny and wild that they suddenly tore free from each other with animal moans. Their wild, bloodshot eyes and grinning faces turned once again to Sheila and they crawled, naked, like big talking cats, off the bed and across the room toward her.
Sheila was powerless to move. Her eyes almost closed as she let her head loll backward and her mouth open slightly. Her eyes were slightly out of focus as they seemed to surround her with naked hot flesh. Their hands were all over her body, fumbling with zippers and buttons as she let out a little moan.
They were unbuttoning the front of her dress, opening it down to the waist and reaching in and fumbling, moving her forward while their fingers expertly felt for the clasp of her bra and unsnapped it. Her breasts seemed to give a little quivering leap as they were freed and she found herself panting as they pulled the bra up and revealed the loveliness of her fully developed breasts to their view.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" It was a wild sound that came from Marsha's throat as she cupped the magnificently huge breast with both her hands and tilted it up, taking the pointed nipple into her mouth and gently sucking on it.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yesssssss!!" Sheila couldn't help the cry. It felt ecstatically good, and her hips pumped slowly with a lubricious rhythm and desire. Marsha and Mike were on either side of the chair, bent over her exposed breasts. Mike gloated over their huge, billowing, thrusting, defiant loveliness. They were as big as ripe honeydew melons, and he took one in his hands and fondled it, teasing and pinching the nipple into a bulleted hardness all its own.
Sheila felt both their mouths biting and sucking at her nipples, and her head slowly thrashed back and forth on the back of the chair as their fondling and wet sucking mouths ignited the lust that had been so long pent up in her body. Her passionate desire had been like some leviathan sleeping, slumbering deep in her groin. Now it awoke and was ready to go on a rampage; now her lust was hungry, starving, and was crying out for satisfaction.
"Oooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." Her low moan acted as a signal to Mike. He abandoned the softness of her breasts and moved around to the front of the chair, kneeling and watching as Marsha, her mouth still locked on one nipple, let her hand move over to the other breast where her fingers tweaked the nipple. His teeth gritted, Mike slid his hands up the lovely curved firmness of Sheila's legs, feeling the silky smoothness of her thighs above the silk stockings. His hands traveled up under her dress and along the outsides of her ample and well-shaped thighs. He felt her hips that fanned out in such a tempting way. He felt her flesh shiver under his touch and saw her face contorted with repressed lust. He grinned to himself. Soon, in a few minutes, she would be like a wild beast, fucking for all she was worth.
His thumbs hooked themselves inside her panties and he jerked down, pulling the flimsy things from her. With an urgency, Sheila lifted her hips clear of the chair and, with an expert swiftness, Mike pulled her panties free. He pulled them free of her feet and tossed them over his shoulder. He crouched, watching Sheila begin to caress Marsha as her lust mounted. He watched the two wanton women caress each other's breasts as Marsha sucked at Sheila's taut nipples. Now, he thought, now comes the real fun.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mike watched the two women in their perverted pleasure for a brief moment, enjoying the sight. Sheila was slumped in the chair with both hands free. One hand had found Marsha's breast and was caressing and massaging it. The other hand was groping for Marsha's cunt. Blindly, the hand found her legs and forced its way between them and slipped up until it felt the soft, hairy, moist edges of her cunt.
Marsha was standing bent over the chair. As soon as she felt Sheila's groping hand, she split her legs slightly, bending over the chair, her teeth gently biting Sheila's nipple in her mouth while her fingers seductively caressed the other one. Both women couldn't help pumping their hips in a lewd and brazen manner.
Mike watched for a delicious moment, then gently pushed the dress up on Sheila's lap, exposing her magnificently shaped legs and thighs, naked except for revealing and suggestive silk stockings. Right where her body met her thighs, right at the soft, warm, mysterious, delicious center of her, there could be seen a wedge of fine, curling pubic hair.
Using his hands like wedges, Mike forced them between Sheila's plump and sensuously shaped knees. He could feel the strength in her legs ... and the lust. A spasm, a shiver of anticipated thrills, ran through her legs. Slowly, lewdly, Mike parted her legs.
"Ooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhh." Her moan was low and hoarse and she obviously liked what was happening to her as she slumped lower in the chair and let Mike spread her legs as wide as he wanted.
With a speed and strength born of naked lust, Marsha seized Sheila's head in her hands and kissed her full on her open sensuous mouth with her tongue darting deep into that willing cavern like a hot piston. Mike watched, then gloated to himself, his cock so hard he thought it would burst as he looked at Sheila's cunt right in front of his face. Its full velvet lips were bursting with desire and he could see the coral-red of her cunt glistening in that black gypsy hair.
He took his hands away from her knees and her legs stayed invitingly spread. He wedged his hands under her, between her flesh and the stuffed chair, and his palms cupped her buttocks tightly, squeezing the pliable cheeks. His teeth were clenched as he used his strength to drag her whole torso toward him, tilting her pouting cunt up toward his face. Sheila slid down in the chair with a resigned moan, her head being forced forward as she slumped low, the arms of the chair rising around her with Marsha leaning nakedly over her. Her chin was softly wedged into her chest and she looked down the cleavage between her big firm breasts and saw her own pubic hair and her legs split helplessly and Mike crouched, leering, between her legs right in front of her cunt. Again she whimpered and moaned and automatically thrust her crotch up and spread her legs even wider.
Above her, Marsha was voracious, moving her head back and forth over her breasts, kissing and sucking and biting Sheila's nipples in a way that drove her into a mad delighted moaning. Occasionally Marsha would tear her mouth from the breasts to greedily stick her tongue in Sheila's willing mouth. Marsha suddenly clutched one of Sheila's breasts, crushing it down and thrusting it up before Sheila's lust-misted eyes. While Sheila watched, she slowly licked the hard nipple with her wet tongue, then slowly, temptingly, tauntingly, she tilted the nipple and held it in front of Sheila's lips.
Sheila closed her eyes and opened her mouth and took her own nipple in her mouth, held there by Marsha. Her lips closed over her own nipple and she sucked, exciting herself with the knowledge of what a lewd spectacle she was.
But she wasn't through being exhibitionistically displayed and excited. Mike had an idea, an idea he'd thought of putting in his next pornographic film. With both hands, he took one of Sheila's long and shapely legs and thighs and lifted it, forcing it to spread even more. He forced it up and over one arm of the chair. Sheila, writhing in lesbian abandon with Marsha, got the idea of what Mike wanted and hooked her leg over the arm of the chair.
Marsha stopped her wild passionate petting and kissing to look and see Sheila hooking her other leg over the other arm of the stuffed chair so that her groin was split defenselessly open and thrust forward. With both her legs hooked over the arms, she was completely split and her cunt was spread wide and both Mike and Marsha watched it twitch convulsively with overwhelming desire.
Sheila was spread so wide that even the full fleshiness of her buttocks was opened to expose the puckered tightness of her tiny anus. Mike looked at her cunt and asshole as her hips slowly and lewdly pumped before him, silently beseeching him to excite her more.
Sheila was slumped in the chair, her dress pulled open, her breasts exposed, the hem of her dress up around her waist, her panties on the floor and her legs split as wide as she could hold them as Marsha and Mike looked at her cunt. Sheila sucked and gently, teasingly bit her own nipple as she saw their faces getting closer to her cunt. She closed her eyes and her nipple slid wetly from her slack mouth as she lay back, anticipating intense, sweet, pure pleasure.
She could feel Mike's hot breath on the insides of her thighs and a shiver ran through her body. "Man," Mike said softly to himself, "would I like to film this."
"Maybe we will." It was Marsha's husky voice and she was bending far over the chair, supporting herself with her arms.
Sheila opened her lust-fogged eyes to see both their faces meeting over her cunt. There was a pause and then their heads darted down and twin bolts of lightning-like pleasure exploded in her body.
"Aaaaaggghhhhhhhaaaaa!!!!"
Her wild primitive cry was like a signal rocket as they all started to writhe, their hands groping for one another, their loins pumping lasciviously and lewdly. All reservations and inhibitions were forgotten as the three of them groped and sucked and fucked for pure searing pleasure.
Mike's wildly probing tongue entered the hot confines of her tortured pussy like a velvety red-hot poker. It probed and jabbed up her convulsing cunt like some insane cock made of fire. Marsha's wild and talented tongue licked and flicked lewdly over her clitoris, driving her to wild cries and uncontrolled writhings.
Sheila bucked and undulated and convulsed in the chair, hanging on with her hands, her face contorted, her mouth wide open as two tongues licked at her cunt at the same time.
She was virtually uncontrollable as Mike and Marsha fought with all their strength to hold her down while their heads converged as they licked her cunt with lascivious delight. They struggled with her sweating body as she moaned and bucked and arched her back, lifting herself free of the chair.
In a wild voluptuous moment, in a space of time filled with overwhelming wet caresses, she felt Mike's thick wet tongue slide down into the firm fleshy crevice of her buttocks and the searing sweet tip of his tongue sweep across the budding tight protuberance of her exposed anus.
"Aaaaaggghhhhhhhaaaaaa!!!"
The thrill was too much, her lust and insane greed for sex had been too long denied. Scott was forgotten as she bucked wildly, insanely, arching her back and thrusting upward with her split hips until they all teetered in a dangerous, awkward position before they all lost their balance and collapsed on the floor in a nakedly writhing mass.
Sheila was completely out of control, her face was contorted and delighted, her lust and desire was rampant as she caressed Mike's cock with one hand and kissed Marsha-her tongue darting into the willing mouth-and felt her wet, soft, hot cunt-lips with her other hand. Her behavior was wild, in defiance of all she had lived for in the last year or so. If only Scott could see her now, if only their staid, dull, investment-conscious friends could see her now. If only those pudding-faced matrons at all those dull art shows and cocktail parties could see her naked and fucking. FUCK! She thrilled to the very word, a shiver going through her voluptuous body as she writhed on the floor. If only some of those clients of Scott's could see her now, those middle-aged idiots with pot bellies and too much to drink, if only some of those men with frustrated, repressed sex in their eyes could see her now. This was the real Sheila!
"Fuck me," she moaned. "Fuck me," she crooned, her head thrashing slowly back and forth. "Please fuck me," she whispered. She wanted to be fucked mindless, she wanted to do every sexually forbidden thing she could think of. She wanted to be bound and whipped and sexually fucked in every way. She was loose and wild now and past caring. Let Mike call friends in, let him get the bellboy, anything ... SHE WAS READY!
She lay naked, spread-eagled on the floor, with her torso writhing in an abandoned and tempting way. Her hips pumped loosely and lewdly, thrusting her cunt upward, her big breasts parted defenselessly, and quivered in an enticing way as she writhed on the floor, her head thrashing slowly back and forth.
Mike was over her, panting, supporting his weight on his elbows, his pelvis crushing down on hers. Sheila felt the hard roundness of his hot cock pressed against her silken writhing stomach. He lowered his position, squirming down between her wide-spread legs until she could feel the massive, primitive head of his rigid cock resting on her extended clitoris. She ground and pumped her hips upward, spreading her legs by bending them at the knee, and rubbed her oiled clitoris over the massive head, exciting herself so much she almost hissed like a cat and dug her nails in Mike's muscular back.
Slowly, sadistically, by moving his hips, Mike ran the thick head up and down the length of her glistening slit.
"Fuck her, fuck her silly," Marsha said in her throaty way.
"F ... f ... fuck mmmmmmeeee!" Sheila moaned.
Marsha, feeling her body in a fever of passion, lay on her side on the floor next to Mike and Sheila. Slowly she lifted one leg by bending the knee and her fingers drifted dreamily through her pubic hair and she caressed her cunt. Her fingertips played with her clitoris and she teased and excited herself while she watched Mike and Sheila.
Marsha's smile was wanton and malicious as she looked at Sheila's lust-twisted features. This was the same girl who had earlier been holier-than-thou in the bar. Marsha caressed herself lavishly, feeling her own lewd cravings mount. She wanted Sheila with her dark gypsy looks and pouting little mouth to perform every wanton act she could think of. She wanted to see the real Sheila and she wanted to have her begging for more.
She crept closer, sliding along the floor until her face was right next to their groins. She saw Mike's massively brutal cock shoving against Sheila's cunt. Her cuntal lips were thick and glistening pink and parting. Her whole cunt was trembling with desire as Mike pushed his cock in, the head burrowing, parting the hair-fringed lips wider and wider.
Marsha smiled maliciously and plunged her finger deep into her own cunt as she saw Sheila grow more brazen. It was almost as if Sheila's cunt was trying to eat Mike's cock. She seemed to seize it in her cuntal mouth and climb up his rock-hard shaft, eager to have more. Marsha watched, their groins just inches away as Mike used his hard strength. Almost without effort, he pushed his hips forward and drove his cock into Sheila's tight-fitting cunt.
Marsha saw the huge cock move like a battering ram, settling into Sheila's cunt with an obscenely wet sucking noise. She heard Sheila moan with delight and saw her cuntal lips caught off-guard as they rolled inward, pubic hair surrounding the thick white stalk of his penis. Sheila's hips undulated as she moaned and her whole pelvis moved as if on oiled ball bearings and she pumped upward and her cunt lips folded out redly around the huge cock and begged for more.
Marsha put both hands on her own cunt now, her fingers spreading the tortured lips wide as her thumb rolled and tormented her clitoris while her fingers sawed in and out of her wetly lubricated cunt. Mike was beginning to really fuck Sheila now, his thick cock plunging in and out rhythmically, like some primitive piston. Magnified before Marsha's eyes as she crawled even closer, the shaft of the huge prick glistened with Sheila's excitement. Oiled, pounding, slowly, inexorably increasing the pressure, he was fucking deeper and deeper into Sheila's willing cunt.
Sheila had her head thrown back. It was thrashing from side to side in wild delight as she felt Mike's cock probing deeper and deeper, each thrust seeming to bring it closer to the inferno that raged in her loins. Her back was arched slightly with her hot desire, forcing her breasts to jut up where Mike crushed them against his hard hairy chest as he gripped her tightly, suffocatingly, as he flicked her. She reveled in it and moaned with animal delight, urging him on. "F ... fuck, FUCK me, fuck me forever, FUCK ME!"
Her mind was a vortex of wild ideas and desires that only served to fan the lames of her lust. Scott would never give her such a deliciously cold-blooded fucking. Scott didn't have any idea of what she was really like. Just once, for one wild night, she'd like to let Scott know what it was really like to fuck her! It would be exciting to shock him and tempt him until he lost control, it would be delicious to see him lose all control....
Jumbled, garbled images flashed and loomed in her mind ... the sight of Scott naked ... Scott naked with Marsha ... the three of them in bed together ... all four of them writhing naked in a room ... wild ... insane....
And then, as Mike fucked her with all his might, as the two of them panted in a mounting wild fury, as Marsha watched Mike's prick pounding in and out of Sheila's pummeled cunt, Sheila thought of herself naked in bed with both Scott and Mike and it was too much....
"Gaaaawwwwwgggghhhhhhhaaaa!!!"
It was too much for her. She had sex with Scott but nothing so blatant, so lewd, so depraved or so exciting. Her wanton orgasm had been too long dammed up. It burst with the intensity of rockets going off. Her body tensed like steel and her back arched and she lifted the two of them off the floor as her cum seared through her like sweet electricity. She was caught in the mighty pleasure-flow and trembled in fine spasms ... held her tortured pose for a second, then, with a long moan, she sank back down to the floor with Mike still fucking her viciously.
The night was far from over.
Sheila lay sprawled in utter satisfaction on the floor, her mouth open, her eyelids fluttering while Mike slowly and methodically flicked her, his glistening thick cock sliding in and out of her creamy twitching cunt, sending additional thrills through her trembling body.
Marsha lay on the floor next to their groins, watching, her own fingers sawing in and out of her cunt. She was horny and excited and Mike looked down to see her writhing next to his hips. With a guttural cry, he pulled his cock from the warm confines of Sheila's pulsating cunt and leaped over Marsha, knocking her over on her back, his knees on either side of her head.
Slowly, languidly, Sheila rolled her head to see Mike crouched so menacingly over Marsha, his slippery cock held out in one hand. He leaned over and forced the bulging head of his cock between Marsha's lips. Marsha opened her mouth wide and her wet lips closed tightly over the shaft of Mike's cock and he began fucking her in the mouth, his hips pumping savagely. Marsha freed her hands so that her fingers could guide his prick deeper into her mouth.
Sheila watched with half-open eyes, moaning slightly, lazily, feeling her desire beginning to smolder again as she saw Mike fucking Marsha all-out in the mouth. Marsha was amazing, taking all or almost all of his thick long prick into her mouth with her cheeks bulging on each stroke. It seemed certain she would gag, yet her face was greedy as she made sucking noises and one hand reached up behind Mike and seized his tensed buttocks and urged him on, striving to get him to fuck her faster and harder.
Sheila definitely was feeling lewd again as she watched the two of them writhe and buck so abandonedly together. Mike's face was becoming contorted and she could tell he was near shooting his cum in Marsha's mouth. Marsha seemed to sense it too as she sucked with all her might and the fingers of one hand tightened around the shaft of his slippery cock and began stroking it back and forth as rapidly and passionately as she could.
Mike was crouched on his knees, holding Marsha's head locked in place with both his strong hands, fucking her furiously as his head fell back and snapped from side to side. Marsha's mouth was tight around his cock, and she sucked so hard his head was trapped in the velvety hot confines of her mouth.
Sheila idly yet her hands play over her own body as she watched, feeling herself being lewdly aroused. Her fingers whispered over her breasts and brazenly toyed with the nipples, arousing her further as she watched Mike and Marsha. One hand trailed down over her stomach and her fingers played with her own tortured clitoris, arousing it once again to an enflamed life.
Mike's eyes bulged as he let out a roar and his whole body tensed and he shot his load into Marsha's mouth. Marsha's cheeks bulged and her eyes were glazed with depravity as she swallowed the white warm cum and fought for her breath. Mike came again in her mouth. He came again and again. He shot his load into her hot waiting mouth in a jerking rhythm, growling with each one. Marsha was loving it and timing the orgasms, swallowing then sucking, her cheeks hollowing, her depraved eyes rolling up to Sheila.
She sucked Mike dry until he moaned and rolled off her, his relaxing cock sliding wetly free with a rubbery strand of cum attaching the two of them by his penis and her lips. He fell heavily to the floor, his eyes closed.
Sheila smiled at Marsha. It was going to be a long and rough night.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mike lay on the floor, rolling over slowly, easily, a little smile on his lips. Through half-closed eyes he saw the two girls get up off the floor and run to the bed, their naked buttocks twitching with each step, their breasts bouncing enticingly. He watched Marsha with that wicked smile on her lips as she turned to Sheila and said, "My turn now, honey."
Sheila looked absolutely abandoned as she grinned back and gently pushed Marsha down on the bed. Mike raised himself and rested on one elbow, grinning, watching the action. Both girls were wild and probably would get him all horny again. Besides, they might give him an idea for a new porny.
Marsha lay on the bed on her back, her arms and legs stretched to leave her spread-eagled. Her arms were spread out above her head, drawing her breasts taut and tempting with her nipples tilted provocatively upward. Her shapely thighs and long tapered legs were spread out wide and her pubic-hair covered mound of Venus jutted invitingly with her cunt making an indentation that was soft and moist ... a velvet cleft just begging to be teased and used. Marsha's expression turned to one of pouting as she offered her groin to Sheila who stood at the foot of the bed.
Mike looked at Sheila standing naked and brazen at the foot of the bed, those sensuously shaped nostrils flaring on her dark gypsy face, her lips gleaming wet and fully shaped. She was breathing deeply, and those fully shaped breasts were heaving provocatively. Her gypsy face was full of passion again and her hair as a wild mane around her face and shoulders. She looked like some pagan queen of lust as she stood looking down at Marsha's naked body and lewd invitation.
Mike felt his cock begin to swell painfully, growing big in a sluggish way with excitement as he watched Sheila crawl up on the bed on all fours. She crawled right between Marsha's outstretched legs until her head was directly over her cunt. She paused, looking down, her long jet-black hair partially hiding her face. Her back was arched slightly so that her magnificent buttocks, spread and twin-cheeked, were offered to Mike's appreciative view. Her big breasts danced tightly beneath her as she crawled closer, getting down on her elbows between Marsha's extended thighs, her face very close to Marsha's dumbly imploring cunt.
Mike gritted his teeth and his penis painfully swelled to a raging hardness as he watched the two girls being bitchy, teasing one another. No matter how many times he had seen it, the sight of two women being lewd never failed to excite him. With two women like Marsha and Sheila-especially Sheila with that wild face and voluptuous body and her deep craving-it was almost too much to bear.
Sheila was wantonly, knowingly thrusting her buttocks up in the air, spreading her legs by moving her knees as she crouched over Marsha's cunt. She waved them slowly, enticingly, back and forth, her cunt glistening wet in the dim light.
Mike got to his knees, his big prick hanging heavily in front of him, almost sagging under its own length and weight. He got to his knees to get a better view and cursed himself for not bringing a camera. Both of the girls were so hot they wouldn't object to it. In fact, it would undoubtedly add to things. Silently making a vow, he swore he would get Sheila in a picture. He would clean up with her. Word would get around and men would flock and pay good money to see a movie of Sheila doing her thing.
Mike watched, forgetting business as the two girls so lewdly teased one another. Sheila was crouched like some big cat over Marsha's groin, her head poised right above her cunt. Slowly, temptingly, voluptuously, Sheila's warm, wet, pink tongue snaked out and wiggled in the air, just a fraction of an inch above the budding, begging clitoris of Marsha.
Mike crawled closer as he watched Marsha arch her back, thrusting up her groin with a little impatient moan, eager for Sheila to have her. Sheila darted her head up and down with a little smile, always just out of range. Playfully, teasingly, she would turn her head to one side and lick the silken inside of Marsha's thigh with her wetly hot tongue. Marsha reacted with a shudder and strove to offer her cunt, bending her knees in order to spread her legs wider apart.
Sheila was in a sadistically teasing mood. Marsha could feel her warm breath and see that tantalizing, snaking tongue, but she was yet to feel its full caress.
She fell back on the bed, grunting, with her lips pouting. Then she lay very still, trying a new tactic. She closed her eyes and let her hands drift down to her crotch. Her fingers teased in her pubic hair for a minute, then slowly, teasingly, using her fingers, she felt for her vaginal lips that were swollen with desire. Slowly she spread them, exposing her cherry-red cunt that was lubricated with desire and twitching with, a horny need.
Sheila's tongue stabbed down into the fleshy depths of Marsha's willing cunt and it was Marsha's turn to tense and cry out her ecstasy.
Mike crawled to the edge of the bed, his eyes bugging out of his head. "Jesus," he said, "Jesus Christ."
He had never seen two women go at it the way they did. Sheila wedged her hands under Marsha's pliable buttocks and literally lifted her ass off the bed. Marsha complied by wrapping her long legs around Sheila's head, trapping her. The two women bucked and undulated together. Both of Marsha's hands were still spreading her cunt wide as Sheila buried her wild gypsy face in her cunt and sucked and licked with all her might. Marsha's hips were pumping mightily, as if she was trying to shove her cunt right into Sheila's hot mouth, as if she was trying to swallow that wetly wiggling tongue.
The sight of two beautiful naked girls locked in a depraved, perverted embrace and loving it was too much for Mike. He crawled up on the bed behind Sheila. On his knees, he crawled between her legs, his blood-gorged cock in one hand. He looked down at the two of them writhing, covered with sweat. Marsha's face was contorted by the ecstatic licking she was receiving. Her stomach was convulsing and undulating as her hips pumped and thrust. Her breasts were caught between her arms and jiggled temptingly. Her legs were wrapped around Sheila's head as she lewdly bucked and undulated like a belly dancer gone berserk.
And Sheila. Sheila had lifted Marsha's buttocks clear and her mouth was locked over her cunt like a suction cup as she furiously darted her tongue in and out of the hot cunt and ran the flat of her tongue up over the trembling clitoris. Sheila was crouched with her ass thrust higher than any other part of her body. Mike looked down at her magnificent buttocks for a moment before he seized them with his hands and brutally thrust his cock forward.
He winced with the pain as his rigid cock slid tightly into Sheila's hotly undulating cunt. He began a slow grind, a sadistic cold-blooded Kicking of Sheila, while he watched her lick Marsha. He fucked in and out the full length of his cock, feeling it tender and somehow deliciously sensitive and painful from the last fuck. Sheila was lubricated with her newly aroused lust and he found her cunt tight and slippery.
His mouth twisting in a cruel grin, he would pull his penis out until it was barely making contact with the pulpy lips of her cunt. Sheila would respond by thrusting her buttocks up as far as she could while her mouth remained glued to Marsha's cunt. Sadistically, Mike smiled down at Marsha, who writhed and wiggled her cunt up to get more licking and sucking. Her hands were still separating the vaginal lips of her cunt so that Sheila had free play. Mike felt as if he had a fever as he slowly, teasingly, sank his ramming cock all the way into Sheila's slippery hot cunt, feeling his pelvis crush against the soft roundness of her twin cheeks.
Sheila was caught between the two of them, with Marsha's legs locked around her neck and Mike slowly, rhythmically fucking her from behind. Each time he sank his prick home with a grunt, Sheila's breasts would dance and jiggle underneath her and her whole body would buck and undulate. Each time he slowly pulled his prick out to the very tip, Sheila would stretch and thrust, eager for him to fuck her more.
His lips twisting, his teeth gritted, Mike suddenly exploded in a frenzy of fucking, slamming into Sheila from behind with all his might and speed. His head was thrown back and thrashing from side to side with sweat flying off his hair. His fingers dug cruelly into Sheila's sweating hips as he fought for a grip and fucked her with all his might.
Marsha went mad as she looked down and saw the full red lips of Sheila locked sucking over her cunt and felt that lashing tongue darting in and out like a prick made of velvet fire. She looked higher and saw Mike fucking Sheila from behind with complete abandon. Her legs locked tighter around Sheila's lovely gypsy head, drawing her in to lick even deeper in her cunt. She felt her cum rising like a cauldron about to bubble and boil over.
Sheila was trapped and battered between the two of them. She was being completely and savagely used by both of them. She was helpless, held in position by both of them for purposes of their pleasure. Each time Mike slammed his rock-hard cock home her face was pushed down tight on Marsha's cunt and she sucked and let the tip of her teeth nibble lewdly at the distended clitoris. Each time his huge prick pulled smoothly out of her cunt, she thrust her tongue dartingly into the hot slippery smooth depths of Marsha's cunt. Each time Mike drove his prick home, Sheila's breasts would tremble beneath her, the nipples dancing over the sheet.
She reveled and gloated in her helplessness and the way she was being treated. She longed for more sex, for more debasement. She wished for more humiliation. Her head was feverishly imagining wild scenes where Mike and Marsha brought in strangers who did vile things to her while the others watched. She yearned for Mike to demand more and more of her. Vividly, she imagined Mike forcing her into a life of prostitution, into a room where she lay naked on a bed and men, strangers, came to her and demanded she do terrible things. Men and women together, forcing her to do unimaginable things.
"Aggggggggghhhhhhhhaaaaaa!!!"
The wild cry from Marsha's lips tore her from her lewd dreams. Marsha's body jerked and twitched as if she had taken hold of a hot wire and couldn't let go as the electricity jumped and snapped through her body.
Marsha was cumming, thrusting her cunt up into Sheila's face as her legs shot out straight. Sheila darted her tongue in and out feverishly as she felt Marsha's cum jolting through her body. Mike looked down to see Marsha's face twisted and contorted by the joys of her cum. Savagely, with a slight snarl, he pulled out of Sheila's cunt with a soft sucking sound.
Marsha collapsed with a moan, going all soft and feeling utterly spent. Sheila raised her head and gasped for breath, wiping Marsha's glistening cunt-juice from her mouth.
All of them were exhausted and gasping for breath now, their bodies glistening with sweat that was beginning to cool as they paused for a moment, panting, slumped, their eyes fogged by drugs and booze and lust.
It was the lust that dominated all three, for Mike was aroused again and didn't feel like being denied. His chest heaving, panting, he motioned to the girls, making Marsha move over and prop herself up on one elbow. He then grabbed Sheila by the wrist and twisted her over on her back. Sheila crawled into place, knowing, without a word, just a silent exchange of smiles, exactly what he wanted. She lay spread-eagled on the bed, her legs apart, her stomach taut, her buttocks rotating, jutting her rounded mound of Venus up with her cunt lips swollen and begging again.
Still catching his breath, Mike seized Marsha by the back of the neck, pinning her in place the way a kitten might be carried. Marsha stiffened, then smiled in the resigned, depraved way she had when she saw what he was doing. He was forcing her face down on Sheila's cunt. She obeyed willingly, greedily, as her tongue stuck out and curled into Sheila's trembling hot cunt. Sheila raised her head to look down between her breasts and see Marsha's tongue darting wetly in and out of her cunt. And she could see Mike's face grinning like a master at his slaves.
But still he wasn't satisfied.
With a snarl, he pushed Marsha up on top of Sheila until she sprawled full length. Marsha lay sprawled above Sheila, their breasts crushing against each other, their faces smiling at one another. Mike's face was sullen and dark with sexual desire as he lay on his side, his thick bulging cock in his hand. He felt it slippery and hard in his fist, well lubricated by the juice from Sheila's cunt. He watched the two women with Marsha lying on top. Slowly, while he watched and stroked his penis, he saw Sheila spread her legs a little while Marsha pulled hers tightly together and her hips pumped, ever so slightly, against Sheila's crotch.
Marsha gave a twisted smile. Her voice was husky as she said, "Okay. This is what it is all about."
The silence in the room became heavy with Mike finally grunting, urging her on in a low voice. "Yeah?"
Marsha smiled down at Sheila and whispered softly to her, although Mike couldn't help hearing.
"I'd like to fuck you. Okay, so I like it. So I'm a dyke, but I'd like to fuck you."
Sheila's little smile didn't change when she silently answered Marsha by spreading her legs as wide as possible.
Marsha's expression changed and she gritted her teeth as she ground her groin down on Sheila's cunt. "I got a dildo up in the city. You come up there and I'll fuck you to death!"
Marsha ground her pelvis hard against Sheila. She could feel the tiny rubbery bud of her clitoris and she ground her pubic hair against it, twirling and teasing it. Mike watched as Sheila let her head fall from side to side as she moaned and pumped her hips up and down with a lubricated movement.
"You love it, don't you!"
"Yes, yesssssss!"
"Say it!"
"I love it, I love it! I love you fucking me!"
The two girls' mouths locked together and their tongues darted as their arms held one another and their hips undulated like those of harem dancers.
Mike felt his face on fire as he watched the two abandoned women so obviously enjoying one another in an insatiable way. Their sexual excitement made him jealous yet spurred him on to greater desire and an iron-hard cock.
He crawled down to their feet and grabbed both of Marsha's ankles and spread her legs wide. Marsha knew with instinct and experience what he wanted, and she stretched her legs wide until they rested right on top of Sheila's. The girls looked into each other's eyes with a knowing smirk. They were beyond vying for Mike and were above jealousy. They were in the grip of passion and realized how much they were enjoying it. With only a look exchanged, both of them knew what he wanted and they squirmed to position themselves.
All three of them were thoroughly aroused and lust-drenched as they went about their debauchery. They were drained and sweating and panting for breath. The room was hot and the air still and smelling of cum and heated sex. Marsha lay on top of Sheila with her legs spread wide and her cunt positioned right over Sheila's. Sheila wiggled herself into position with her legs spread wide and her clitoris touching Marsha's. A fine tremor swept through her body as she licked Marsha's tongue and felt Mike position himself between their legs.
Mike crouched on the bed for a second, looking at the two women lying belly-to-belly and cunt-to-cunt. He looked at the cunts with their moist slits surrounded by pubic hair. Both the cunts were lubricated and primed for fucking. Even as he watched, the girls wantonly rotated and pumped their hips, causing their cuntal lips to spread and convulse wetly.
Mike crawled up between them with an animal sound in his throat. His rock-hard cock awkwardly probed and jabbed until he felt a cunt and, with a slipping sound, he sank his cock home to the hilt.
"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Marsha arched her back and let out a pleased moan as she felt Mike's prick slide hotly home. Mike fucked her from behind while Sheila's tongue darted into her mouth and Sheila's hands caressed up and down her sweating sides. Sheila felt each of Mike's thrusts through Marsha's pumping down on her clitoris.
"AAAAHHHHHHGGGGAAAA!"
Marsha was really riding high in an almost insane ecstasy as Mike fucked in and out of her with a slow, savage intensity and Sheila's tongue darted in her mouth and licked her neck. What really made her eyes roll white was the feeling she got from Sheila's fingers. Sheila had caressed her sides and then her back. Her hands had slid down to the small of Marsha's back and then she had wedged them between Mike's stomach and Marsha's back.
Marsha felt Sheila's fingers wedging their way into the fleshy crevice of her buttocks. She felt a finger probing her tightly puckered anal ring. Mike sensed what was happening and leaned back slightly, and Sheila's finger found Marsha's exposed anus and it plunged tightly home up to the first knuckle.
"AAGGHHHAAA! MY GOD, FUCK ME!!"
Marsha was tensed, caught on the barbed hook of her own lewd desire as Sheila's tongue licked her neck and her finger jabbed in and out of the tight passageway of her anus and her clitoris was being agitated while all the time Mike was giving her a brutal fucking. She rose like a skyrocket but never made the peak.
With a guttural cry of triumph, Mike pulled his cock out of Marsha's cunt and, shifting his position and weight, with a pagan cunning, he plunged his cock home deep into Sheila's convulsing cunt.
Marsha let out a cry of rage and vicious violence. Her face twisted and she wanted to hurt Sheila who was moaning and writhing beside her. She wanted to hurt her sexually and she mauled her breasts, pinching her nipples, reaching under her and massaging Sheila's big breasts. With a snarl, she twisted her position and cupped a breast with one hand and twisted her head, sucking on the nipple savagely. Beneath her grinding hips she could feel Mike's cock slamming home into Sheila and the wild uncontrollable way her distended clitoris stretched and twisted under her. It was a debauched feeling she got in her own cunt as Sheila's groin jolted and pumped back.
It was a wild, entirely animalistic moment as they all writhed together, Sheila's finger still embedded in Marsha's anus, the two women still writhing and exciting one another.
Mike was wild with searing lust as he fucked first one then another, driving them to the trembling edge of an orgasm, then stopping and switching to the other cunt. He drove into them mercilessly, building in rage and lust until he didn't now which girl he was fucking. He didn't care! Nor did anyone care! It was impossible to say who came first. It was almost as if they were all caught in a giant cum. They began moaning and trembling and yelling and Mike had his cock out and was jerking white cum all over Marsha's sweating back and Marsha was grinding her groin against Sheila as if she had a dildo and they all seemed to have creamy orgasms together as they jerked and twitched and trembled and finally subsided in a sweating, panting, boneless, exhausted heap.
Heaving, sweat running down his face, Mike managed to whisper, "We just got to make a movie."
No one answered. Marsha and Sheila were asleep.
CHAPTER SIX
Recriminations, conscience, the cold, ugly fact-after-the-matter. Sheila hadn't fallen in love and married Scott Baines lightheartedly. Conscience, guilt, anxiety, something made Sheila Baines wake up in the middle of the night and look around.
Her head was splitting and her stomach felt like it was ready to curdle and she was so exhausted that all her limbs felt as heavy as lead. She raised herself up with a little sick moan and looked around her with puffy eyes. Marsha and Mike lay sleeping as if they had been thrown down off a truck. Sheila squinted her eyes and saw that it was a quarter after four in the morning.
She collapsed quietly, barely stifling a sob. She looked up at the ceiling through tear-misted eyes. An image of Scott danced in her head. He was square but he was honest. He was insensitive and pompous at times, yet he was good to her and he was honest with her. Scott was like a rock, an anchor, a haven. Although he was masculine-a man's man-she knew he was capable of great tenderness and consideration.
So, lying in bed at a quarter after four in the morning with two fellow debauchers, Sheila began to cry. What would he-Scott-say if he knew how she had behaved? Could she look him in the face?
Slowly, Sheila got off the bed, and slowly, as quietly as possible, she crawled around and found her clothing. Her shoes were by the chair, her panties flung across the floor. Near the bed was her wrinkled and inside-out dress which she didn't even remember taking off. Perhaps it had been torn from her body or she herself had ripped it away. She didn't remember or care ... all she could think about was how terribly she had behaved and all because Scott wasn't understanding enough.
The wee small hours are a bad time to be depressed. Sheila felt mean and petty and dishonest and perverted and immoral. She felt everything bad she could think about herself and she cried softly as she dressed, glancing furtively at Mike and Marsha, sound asleep and naked.
At the door, she looked back once more, taking the whole scene in so she wouldn't forget it for the rest of her life. It was a familiar scene, one she had seen so many times before. Once it had been her whole life. Last night she had reverted, fallen back. Now it was in her past again. Grimly, tears welling again in her eyes, she resolved it would stay in her past.
She closed the door and walked down the hall to the elevator. In the elevator as it gently took her down to the red plush lobby of the old inn, she thought of Mike and Marsha. What, was she going to do about them? How could she explain them to Scott? Desperately, she knew she had to get them out of her life, remove them so that Scott would never meet them.
Down in the lobby with its red plush carpet and white painted walls, the desk clerk nodded and smiled sleepily, barely noticing her as she walked quickly by. Outside, it was dark and still. Carmel, in many ways, is a small town and, at four-thirty in the morning, the streets were absolutely silent. Nothing moved, and the sound of her heels clicking on the sidewalk seemed to echo for blocks. Her car was parked where she left it, the only one on the block. She drove home slowly, her pretty face grave, solemn.
She parked the car and let herself into their cottage as quietly as possible. Inside, the curtains drawn, a low light on to see by, she stripped naked and padded to the bathroom after putting away all her clothes. Scott would never notice that the dress was slightly torn, and if he did, she was already thinking of an alibi.
She snapped the lights on and stepped in front of the full-length mirror, examining her body with an apprehensive and critical eye. She heaved a sigh of relief ... there were no telltale bruises or black-and-blue marks. She turned the shower on full-blast and as hot as she could stand it, stepping under it and feeling the fine hard needle-points of water striking her body.
She soaped herself completely, shampooing her hair and smearing suds all over her body, all over, soaping her legs and thighs and stomach and breasts. Against all her fatigue, against all logic, she felt herself becoming lewdly excited as she soaped her breasts and her nipples that were slippery and impossible to hold. Her hands flew to her cunt and she soaped it and stroked it with her fingers, feeling wanton squirming excitement spreading through her loins.
With a little cry, she broke it off, rinsing her body completely and stepping out of the shower. No, she resolved, that life is behind me.
She toweled herself dry, used a drier on her hair, took two aspirin for her headache, and forced herself to go to bed, setting the alarm for eight-thirty. At nine-thirty, Scott would be landing at the airport, home from L.A. She snapped off the light and pulled the covers up. Survival, instinct, told her she had best get some sleep. Later she would deal with problems. She fell asleep as early morning birds fussed and chirped excitedly in the trees.
She awoke to the shattering clang of the alarm clock and hurriedly dressed for the drive to the airport.
On the way, she thought of Mike and Marsha and what she had done with them. She felt she could never permit herself to do such a thing again. If she did, she was afraid that she might go off the deep end and go back to that wild, debauched part of her life. Silently, she despaired that she was that way, that she loved and gloated over scenes of depravity. Try as she might, she knew she couldn't change her basic nature. No matter what, scenes like the night before were continually exciting her. Even if she simply remembered, in detail, what she did with Mike and Marsha, she knew she could and would get so aroused and insanely horny that she would take the first turn off the freeway and head back to the Pine Inn to find Mike and Marsha.
So, with a firm resolve, she gripped the wheel and used all her strength and character not to think about them and to concentrate instead on her relationship with Scott. She couldn't undo what she had done ... it was over, past. But she could change her ways ... she could make it up to him.
Why ... she wondered ... why? ... oh, why couldn't Scott be more sensual ... why couldn't he be more passionate?
Scott Baines was a little surprised at the ferocity with which his wife greeted him at the passengers' unloading gate. He spotted her looking like a wild flamenco dancer in the crowd and she ran to him, embracing him fiercely, kissing him and holding him with a feral intensity. "I'm so glad you're back!"
"So am I. Hey," he laughed, "take it easy, I was only gone overnight."
"I missed you so. Oh, how I wished you were here."
"Well, I'm home now," he said in that tone of voice that made her feel he was patting her on the head. "And I have news for you."
Sheila saw in an instant that he was excited and preoccupied with what he had been through in L.A. and she decided to take advantage of it, to urge him to talk about it. "Tell me everything."
They got his luggage and headed for the car with Scott looking smug and excited. "Well, in a nutshell, I've got the Bateman account."
"Honey! No! Really?"
"Well, only a portion of it. I'm to handle securities exchanges that happen through the Carmel offices. It doesn't mean a lot of money right away, but I've got my foot in the door. Honey, old man Bateman liked me. You know what he said?"
He told her in detail as she drove the car just what old Bateman had said to him. He talked excitedly all the way to Carmel, suddenly looking out the window and saying, "Hey, where are you going?"
"Home. Why?"
Scott looked at her as if she was an idiot for not understanding. "Home? I can't go home yet. I've got to go to the office."
"Why?"
"Why? Because I've got a lot to do. Tell you what, to celebrate, we'll go out to dinner tonight. We'll live it up and go to the Outrigger down on Cannery Row."
"Fine," Sheila said. Everything was working out. She felt that the Outrigger was a good place, the kind of place that Mike and Marsha wouldn't go to. Also, Scott's going to the office gave her a chance to call up Mike and Marsha and try to explain why she couldn't have them in her life any longer.
She kissed him goodbye at the office and drove home with his overnight bag. She was barely in the house before the phone rang, making her jump. It rang insistently while she stood over it, gathering her will and concentration in case it was Mike. She picked the phone up as if it might explode in her hand. "Hello?"
"What a sap I am. Listen, I really want to celebrate. Let's have lunch together. I hardly feel I've seen you."
"Fine. Where?"
"At the Pine Inn. See you there at noon."
-"Ah ... Scott?"
"Yes?"
"Not there. Let's make it a real celebration. How about Gallatin's for lunch?"
"Say, not a bad idea. Lots of lawyers and judges lunch there. Hey, I kind of like that, maybe even have a martini for lunch."
"Yes." Sheila's stomach lurched and turned sour at the thought. "I'll pick you up at the office."
She hung up and spent the rest of the morning trying to get herself ready for lunch. She had a seltzer and black coffee and looked at her features carefully in the mirror. She looked tired, and there were puffy circles under the eyes. A little eye makeup might hide them. She sat in front of her mirror, thinking only of her appearance and what lunch would be like. She rationalized that it was too early to call Mike and Marsha, that they wouldn't be up before one or two. Besides, she mused, they might be heading back up to San Francisco. She had forgotten to ask them how long they were staying. Perhaps it was only for overnight, Perhaps, she hoped and wished, they would leave today and she would never see or hear from them again. She concentrated on making her wild looks more sedately appealing and forgot about the pair, promising herself she would call them after lunch.
She didn't. She got through lunch with her confidence growing with every minute she spent in Scott's presence. With all his square qualities, with all his solid conservative thought and manner, she felt safe and secure. She was proud to be seen with some one so handsome and solid. He looked like a winner. They made an attractive and contrasting couple as they sat at lunch. Men at the bar stared at Sheila, at her brooding, thick-lipped, dark-eyed, gypsy good looks. They stared at her over their drinks or while their friends talked at their elbows. Men at the bar jockeyed and shifted for position so they could see her eating with her husband. Men stared until they caught her eye and Sheila would look and see the masked sexual hunger, the wild desire they would like to let loose on her if they had the chance. She saw the lusting dreams in their coveting stares and knew what they wanted. She would return their stares pretending, looking away, never letting them see that she understood and knew.
She made it through lunch, and by the time she got home she was exhausted and half sick from the martini she had drunk. She collapsed on the bed, telling herself she was too tired, that she would contact Mike and Marsha tonight. If they should call, she would be out. She barely felt she had strength to get some aspirin and take them and set the clock before she collapsed on the bed and slept.
She slept all afternoon and awoke with the alarm, washed her face, and drove to the office and picked up Scott. It was so good to see him and know she was going to be with him for the rest of the night.
Dinner was delicious, and she surprised herself by how hungry she was, realizing it had been a long while since she had a meal other than lunch. Her head was clear now and her stomach feeling good. Scott looked elegant in his best suit and she felt good in her newest dress. They ate steaks and then had an after-dinner drink while listening to the live entertainment.
They had several more drinks and then drove back to Carmel with Scott in an unusually genial mood. He didn't approve of being seen in bars at night. "I don't think it does us any good if it gets around town that we like to go to bars at night. I don't want anyone to think that Scott and Sheila Baines are part of the drinking crowd. You know," he would go on, lecturing, "that Carmel crowd drinks hard. How would it look to potential investors if it was known that Scott Baines ran around boozing every night?"
Sheila was amused. There was something so endearing in the way he moralized, something so American and decent and small-town. She loved him for it and the sober, wacky way he could contradict himself. After sermonizing some more and then recounting once again what old man Bateman had said, he announced. "I really feel like celebrating. Let's have a night cap, a little drink at the Mission Ranch."
Sheila smiled to herself. The Mission Ranch was one place where all the hard-core Carmel drinking crowd went. Situated in a quiet end of Carmel with a spectacular view of the ocean and the mountains, it sat on an edge of a marsh and bird sanctuary where the Carmel River flowed into the Pacific Ocean. A grouping of old white barn-like structures, it looked unpromising to the few tourists who strayed into that end of town. Old and established, out of the way, easy to get to, it was a perfect place for Carmelites to meet and let down their hair. It was said that more broken marriages and blasted reputations started at the Mission Ranch than at anyone's home. It was also known by locals as a good place to pick up attractive girls looking for a one-night stand. Sheila masked her amusement, thinking: just like him to want to go there.
There were two bars in two separate buildings and they choose the piano bar and found it full of singing, drinking, laughing men and women. They squeezed their way to the bar and Scott ordered drinks from the small dark Filipino behind the bar. They got their drinks and stood looking at the crowd. Sheila watched her husband, knowing he seldom drank, that he was excited and elated, that the trip had been a success, that he was having more to drink tonight then he ordinarily had in a week.
She watched him get a little tipsy and mellow and saw him eyeing other women. She smiled to herself, thinking that his idea of a wild time was tame compared to what she had been through. She knew, when they finally got home, he was going to be amorous and make a pass.
He did. Sheila had to steel herself against his advances, being deliberate in her actions. It was too soon after Mike and Marsha, but she mustn't give herself away. They had sex in bed, under the covers, with the lights turned out. She close her eyes tight and tried to think of other things while he grunted and fucked her. She used all her willpower and physical strength to do it, never allowing herself to give in to her instincts and lewd, insane desires. The Pine Inn would always remain in her mind as a symbol of her lust, but all that was behind her now.
She got through the sex, the lovemaking. She pretended to her husband that she liked it and they both fell asleep and didn't wake until the alarm went off and they got up to face a routine day.
The days after Scott came back raced by. Suddenly, he had been home for three days and Sheila hadn't had the time or chance to call the Pine Inn. Each time the phone rang, she cringed inside and a cold numbing feeling gripped her insides. Each time it was a routine call. She didn't hear from Mike and Marsha and always found something else that she had to do when it came time to call them.
The evenings whirled by. They went out every night, once even driving all the way down to Big Sur to Nepenthe's where they had dinner and Scott finally, irritably, complained about the hippies. "I mean this is a beautiful place, but, for my money, I'd rather be someplace else. The food's good, the view is magnificent, but the place is full of phonies running around with long hair and faggot jeans. Everybody is posing and looking arty and the windows are dirty."
Each evening was different. They drove to Lover's Point restaurant in Pacific Grove and had a quiet dinner without drinks and watched a long rosy sunset. The next night they drove down to Fisherman's Wharf and had dinner at the Ginza, eating Japanese-style in their stocking feet.
The days simply went by with Sheila postponing the inevitable. The time with Scott was precious. She had a sense of urgency about her, like a person who had been told she only had so long to live and wanted the remaining time to count for something, like a guilty felon who knew she was going to be found out and wanted something good to remember after she was sentenced. She would think of Mike and Marsha in fleeting moments and hope for the best, that they would leave her alone, that the night at the Pine Inn had been enough.
Yet, deep down, she knew it hadn't been enough. Deep down she knew she would see them again, that the evening had only served to whet their appetites and imaginations. Instinctively, dreading, resigned, deep down, she knew she would see them again, that they were far from through with her. They knew they could get her to do anything they wanted.
She knew she would see them again and yet was thrown completely off guard when someone knocked on the front door while she was doing housework. She didn't think they would come to her house. In Carmel, there are no street addresses. Carmelites like their privacy and, if they wish, they are hard to find. Unless a visitor has a description of the house and a cross street for reference, it is virtually impossible to find a particular residence. So Sheila really was amazed when she opened the door and saw Mike and Marsha standing at her door.
"How did you find me?" She couldn't help but blurt it out.
Mike looked a little bored. "The phone book says what street you're on." He ticked facts off on his fingers. "You said your husband was in investments. There's only one brokerage in Carmel and all we did was park across the street and follow home the likeliest candidate. We hit it right on the button the first try. So, we waited until your husband went to work and then we came here with just one question." He stood looking at Sheila with a disgusted kind of patience. Marsha was looking around with an air of contempt for the house, the cottage and the garden.
"What?" Sheila asked in a little voice.
"Just what the hell is going on with you?"
"Who," Marsha asked in a husky voice with one hand on her hip, "who the hell do you think you are?"
Hurriedly, she led them into the house, hoping the neighbors hadn't seen them. Mike's hair was too long and Marsha looked too exotic, too heavily made up and sexual for Carmel. In downtown Carmel, men would stare. In front of their cottage, she would attract more attention.
They came in and Marsha walked around the living room with her hands on her hips, defiant, taking the place in with a bored look. She looked at Sheila and said, "How cute."
Mike looked around and whistled. "Hey, Sheila, this isn't you."
"No, Mike," Marsha corrected in her throaty voice, "This is Sheila. This is the real Sheila. The itsy-poo Sheila, the Sheila who pretends she's a good little girl playing with dolls and having tea."
Sheila closed her eyes and fought for control. "All right, I'm sorry. I should have called you."
"Sheila." Mike stood in front of her. "You don't owe us a thing. No strings. We're your friends. We know you. We know what you're like, and believe me, all this lace curtains and cottage crap ain't you."
Tears welled in her eyes. They weren't being fair. "How do you know? How can you judge me?"
Mike looked serious. "Because you judge us. Now you listen." He pointed a finger at her. "We're good enough for you when you want us. Rest of the time, you don't want to know us."
"That's not true!"
"No?" Mike swaggered in front of her while Marsha draped herself on the couch and casually lit a cigarette. "Okay. I'll take you at your word. How about all of us getting together for dinner tonight at the Hog's Breath Inn? Huh?"
"Yes," Marsha intoned. "I'd love to meet that cute husband of yours."
Sheila raked her hand through her thick mane of hair and looked around desperately as if the answer was in the air or lying somewhere in the room. "Look, I've got to explain."
"You sure do," Marsha said, casually flicking ashes on the rug.
"You see ... my life ... well ... my life is different now ... I'm not the same person...." She stood before them full of guilt and anxiety. She didn't like them being in her home, she didn't like them knowing where she lived. Scott was a fanatic on smoking, and no matter how much she aired the house out he might smell smoke.
"I'll say," Marsha blew out a cloud of smoke and looked at Sheila with scorn. "A hypocrite. God, I never had you figured that way."
Mike shook his head in disbelief. "I never did, either. I never figured you to sell out so cheap. I never figured you to use your friends. I never figured you to be ashamed of your friends and what you did. Tell me something." Mike stepped closer and his voice was low. "Are you using your husband for what you want? Will you be ashamed of him if you find something better?"
The words stung and seemed to sink home like acid scalding through her skin. She saw their hostile, contemptuous looks and didn't know what to say.
Sheila sat down, almost falling into the chair. She took a deep breath. "It isn't that way at all. The other night was a mistake. I'm sorry. I should have called you and said so. I didn't have the courage. I was just weak that night. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Mike and Marsha exchanged a look. "You sure as hell didn't act sorry."
"You acted real." Marsha threw back her head. Her face looked wicked and oddly attractive to Sheila as she laughed in her raucous throaty way.
"I slipped. I ... went back." Sheila couldn't look at them.
"Hey, dig this." Mike was contemptuous. "Sounds like a revival meeting confession. Sheila's admitting her sins."
Shame mingled with indignation and the two melded into a frustrated rage. Her fists clenched, she got to her feet. "I've heard enough! I don't have to take this! I hate you! I hate you both! Get out, get out, both of you, and don't ever come back!"
To Sheila, it seemed as if they all stood and sat like statues for a space of a second or two, then Mike broke the spell by turning to Marsha. They exchanged a look. Mike looked back at Sheila for a long moment until he saw her voluptuously curved lower lip quiver and he slowly, shook his head. "No," he whispered. "No, we won't get out ... not until we've taught you a lesson."
CHAPTER SEVEN
The situation wasn't just tense, it was dangerous. Danger hung in the air like a fuse burning. Sheila got slowly to her feet, edging away from both of them. She licked her lips. "Y ... you'd better get out of here."
Marsha was on her feet with that evil grin on her face. Her eyes held a depraved look. Mike looked malicious and was obviously enjoying himself. They moved after her slowly, indolently.
Sheila instinctively backed toward the bedroom. There was a door there she could close and lock. She thought fast, appraising her situation. She knew she was in a dangerous spot. If she yelled, attracted the neighbors, called the police, it would be their word against hers. Both of them were angry enough to tell the truth ... and when it came out they were making pornographic movies ... and had known Sheila before ... and she had been seen having drinks with them at the Pine Inn ... when it all came out, she would be exposed.
Worse than that, the danger existed that Scott might, at any minute, come home. He sometimes stopped home unexpectedly at lunch time or if business happened to bring him nearby. Neighbors sometimes called at the door on some errand or other. Anyone could come and find them-Mike and Marsha-there.
Sheila said, "Stop, think a moment. You could get in trouble."
Mike laughed. "Nope. All wrong. It's you that's in trouble."
Sheila felt like screaming or going insane. At any moment, her carefully constructed world could crumble. At any moment, she could find herself in a violent scene in which her life was destroyed.
Worse than that was the very real menace of Mike and Marsha. It wasn't fear of violence-she knew they wouldn't hurt her unless she wanted them to-it was a deep screaming fear of herself and what they would do to her ... how they would tempt her, tease her, force her to a point where something in her went a little berserk.
She turned and ran for the bedroom and tried to close the door but Mike was too quick for her. And too strong; he held the door open with laughing ease. Marsha slipped into the bedroom with a fluid, wicked ease. Quickly she pulled the drapes and began unzipping her dress. Mike came slowly into the room, unzipping his fly while grinning at Sheila.
"N ... NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" She wailed out her anguish, turning first to one, then the other, backing away from them in her high heels, half crouching, backing into a corner of the small bedroom.
Mike laughed contemptuously. "Think we're going to rape you?"
Marsha brayed out her hoarse laugh. "Wouldn't she just love that?"
"Hell, we're not going to touch you. Just want you to watch, that's all."
"NOOOO! Listen," she said, pausing to catch her breath and control her voice (what if the neighbors hear?) before she continued. "You'd better get out of here!"
Marsha stripped off her dress with silky movements and stood in her high heels and panties and bra. The bra was a half-bra, the kind that Marsha liked because they thrust her breasts together and upward and, occasionally, her nipples would work themselves provocatively free. One of them was doing it as Sheila watched. It was pointed with excitement and stood out lewdly. Her black panties were so brief they were little more than a G-string, barely covering her pubic hair. Her creamy buttocks were practically naked, with the panties pinching in the fleshy deep crevice between her ample cheeks.
Mike held a hand up, palm out. He was naked to the waist and Sheila saw his lean waist and rippling muscles. "Okay, we'll make a deal."
Sheila was ready to grab at any straw. "What?"
"We figure you owe us something. Just this once, you watch us have sex on your bed, and we'll consider the whole thing even. You'll never see us again."
Sheila frowned. "That's crazy. Why? Why not just tell me off and get out?"
"Because." Mike's voice was low and insinuating. "It would be fun. Kind of freaky, you know. It'll be something different. A new kick."
A new kick. The words lingered in Sheila's mind. It was insane and they weren't sincere. Still ... it was the only chance she had. "Just this once?"
With a straight face, Mike held up his hand. "Scout's honor."
Sheila licked her lips and kept clasping and unclasping her hands. "Okay. Just this once. I'll wait in the other room."
Marsha wagged a finger. "That's a no-no. Gotta be here watching."
Mike walked over to Marsha and let his hand smooth down over her silken stomach until it cupped over her cunt. Gently, he massaged it while their lips met and theft wetly glistening tongues licked at one another. "Let her go," he said. "Let her be in the other room with the door open."
"Mmmmnnnmmmm." Marsha spread her legs as her hand fumbled in his open fly, groping for his hardening penis.
Sheila fled the room as quickly as possible. She stood in the living room not knowing what to do. She hurried to the windows and checked the lawn and the street. All was quiet and ordinary. Stealthily, she put the chain lock on the door ... not to keep Mike and Marsha from getting out but to keep anyone from getting in, should they come to the front door.
She paced the floor, not knowing what to do. It was ten-thirty. She could say she had to meet Scott for lunch. She sat down and nervously smoked a cigarette. Above all, she hoped that no one-Scott in particular-came to the house while Mike and Marsha were occupied in the bedroom.
It was a contest that was going on in that small cottage, and Sheila knew it. It was a deadly contest with high stakes-Sheila's body and soul.
She sat smiling furiously, trying not to think of them, trying to ignore what was going on in her bedroom, trying to block out the sounds that were coming from there. She heard Marsha's moan and Mike's grunt. She heard Marsha giggle in a throaty way and she heard the sounds of the sheets being pulled down.
They were going to have sex on her bed ... they were going to have lewd cold-blooded sex on the same bed that Scott and she slept on. They were going to do everything obscene they could think of on her bed.
Try as she might, she couldn't keep the thought out of her head. She got up and paced to the kitchen and hastily poured herself a stiff drink. She gulped it down and stood catching her breath, thinking: Get a hold on yourself. Don't give in!
Still ... it was an intriguing idea. It was dangerous and stimulating! All of them could be caught at any moment! What would Scott say if he came home? What could she do? How was she going to feel the next time, in the dark, in that bed, when Scott wanted to make love to her? What were they actually doing to one another in that bed?
She had to see ... she simply had to see. She promised herself that she would have one look, that's all, one look and no more. She tiptoed across the room, listening to the stillness in the house and the slight suggestive noises coming from the bedroom. She tiptoed softly, out of sight, positioning herself carefully, unable to resist the thrill that ran through her loins. It was exciting watching two people when they didn't know. All sorts of delicious and arousing possibilities danced in her mind.
She half crouched and saw the two of them naked, on the bed, her bed. Marsha was crouched on all fours and her face was contorted with the crude lust and excitement she was feeling at the moment. She moaned with each little panting breath that came from her open mouth.
Mike was kneeling behind her and was crouched over her nude body. He had his cock buried to the hilt in her exposed cunt from behind. He was slowly and deliberately fucking her and Sheila saw his thick cock slowly withdrawing, its sides and shaft glistening with Marsha's excitement. She saw Marsha's cunt lips rolling outward, a bright pink, as he withdrew. Her buttocks and thighs were trembling as he pulled his cock out to the mushroom head and then Marsha moaned with delight as he shoved his cock back home with a lewd slow motion.
But that wasn't all he was doing to Marsha. She was crouched on her hands and knees with her thighs widespread while Mike leaned his weight over her. She was using her strength to help hold him up as he used one hand to reach under and roughly, daringly, firmly massage her breasts, squeezing them and pinching her nipples hard enough to bring little grimaces of pain to Marsha's tortured face.
But that wasn't all he was doing with Marsha. With his other hand, he was reaching under and around to Marsha's vulnerable groin. With two expert fingers, he spread her cunt lips wide, revealing her cunt a coral pink, and a third finger was abusing and exciting Marsha's clitoris. Marsha's body was tense, her neck arched as Mike slowly and salaciously fucked and caressed her.
Sheila felt her breath coming in tight little twinges as she watched. In her mind she saw herself on that bed with Scott doing that to her ... and Mike and Marsha watching.
She forced herself to back away from the door. She sat down with a sigh and, her hands shaking, lit a other cigarette. She knew she was an exhibitionist, but she couldn't help it. She found the palms of her hands sweaty and her heart was pounding as she hastily snuffed the cigarette out and hurried back to the crack in the door.
She arrived just in time to see Mike pull his swelling prick out of Marsha's clasping cunt. She saw it erect in the air, glistening like some primeval stump, and she shivered. They were shifting positions. Sheila knew Mike and knew he had just done that to Marsha in order to excite her. To intensify her desire. He had given sexual pleasure and torment to her in order to excite her but not to give her an orgasm. He always stopped short of her cum and went on to something else. Now his marauding hands were withdrawn and Sheila knew Marsha was feeling the double pleasure of pain mixed with sexual delights. She shivered and felt her own cunt growing moist.
She wondered how many other women ever got to watch sex in their own bed? She crouched down and watched as Marsha lay on her back, her lovely body completely exposed. Mike crawled over her, grinning, his huge thick cock swaying between his legs. Marsha lay with her legs spread wide ready for anything. Sheila watched as Mike ignored her cunt and crawled up her, putting his knees on either shoulder, firmly pinning Marsha in place.
She struggled, trying to get her arms free so she could reach his prick, but she failed. Mike wouldn't let her free, pinning her easily in place with his weight. She craned her neck, trying to reach his cock, her hot, wet mouth open, her tongue curling.
With a deft movement, Mike reached for a pillow and wedged it under Marsha's neck, forcing her head up and forward. Reaching under himself, then leaning, he laid the shaft of his big cock in the depths of her cleavage, its blood-gorged head right in front of her face. Marsha arched her back, thrusting her breasts up as Mike reached down and roughly cupped one in each hand, squeezing them together around the hard, slippery shaft of his cock. Grinning, leaning forward slowly, he shoved the mushroom head into Marsha's willing hot mouth. Marsha's lips looked like they were pouting as she wrapped them wetly around the throbbing head and her cheeks hollowed as she sucked and twirled her tongue.
Sheila watched, her vision suddenly blurred by a fever in her blood. She watched, seeing Mike's naked buttocks tense and his long thighs tremble as his hips started a slow pumping in and out of Marsha's mouth. He was fucking her with that same slow, infuriating, delicious, teasing movement of his. It was cold-blooded and dirty and Sheila loved it.
Suddenly, without warning, Mike and Marsha shifted and all she could see was their slowly writhing legs. Try as she might, she couldn't get a better angle. But if she wanted to see, there was nothing stopping her. They said they wanted her to watch.
Nothing wrong if I watch.
It was almost as if it was another girl who happened to look like Sheila drifted into the room. She went in soundlessly, like a ghost, and stood by the door watching their slow, studied impossibly brazen lovemaking.
Slowly, Marsha had writhed and struggled to get more cock in her mouth. Slowly, her eyes closed, her mouth open, Marsha lashed at his prick with a tongue of velvet hot fire. Slowly, he gave in to her wild lashings and her deep juicy sucking. His body relaxed until he collapsed over on his side and then his back as Marsha got up like some big cat, never taking her lips from his cock. Once he was flat on his back, she began sucking him off with all her might, taking all she could of his thick long cock in her mouth, sucking until her lips hollowed and the prick pulled free from her mouth and her wild wet tongue came out to flail the blunt end. Then her greedy mouth would suck the head in again and she would bob her head up and down a few times before swallowing as much of the rock-hard penis as she could.
Suddenly, as if she had known all along, Marsha's eyes rolled up and saw Sheila standing there.
As if by some invisible signal, Mike opened his eyes and saw Sheila's dark gypsy face hovering inside the door and her breasts heaving as she watched what they were doing with a hypnotic look in her gaze.
Nothing was said. Marsha held out her hand, offering it to Sheila, and Sheila obediently walked to the bed and took the hot hand in hers. Marsha's grip was strong as it pulled her down on the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed, right next to Mike's groin, watching Marsha's head bob up and down.
Behind her, she felt Mike's hand running up her spine, and every nerve in her tingled. He massaged her back and she arched it as she felt sensual delight His hand went up to her neck where he suddenly gripped her hard. He held her imprisoned in place.
Again, as if by some invisible, silent signal, Marsha looked up and her hand reached up to pull Sheila down. They were forcing her head over and down, forcing her face down next to Marsha's. With a wet sucking sound, Marsha let Mike's cock slip from her mouth. Her hand was on the shaft, tilting the thick monster head in front of Sheila's face.
Sheila closed her eyes as she felt the blunt head, slippery and sleek, rubbing hard against her lips. The smell of sex and cum was thick in her nostrils as the cock rubbed harder and Sheila opened her mouth greedily and started sucking the cock with her eyes closed, her mouth tasting the pungent taste of sex and her body suddenly on fire with desire.
It was dangerous, it was exciting! They were risking everything and the danger only added sharpness and pleasure to the thrill.
Suddenly they were all writhing and they both were undressing her. She put up a feeble resistance for a few moments, trying to escape their shocking and perverted embraces and caresses. But she didn't really want to and gave in to their bold embraces as the two of them stripped her clothing from her.
Not a word was said. Nothing had to be said as all three knew what they were after. Sheila was naked and writhing on the bed as Mike seized her flimsy bra and tied one end tightly and roughly around one of Sheila's slender wrists. He tied the other end to the edge of the headboard. Marsha scurried to get Sheila's sheer panties from where they had been thrown on the floor and tied her other wrist to the headboard. Sheila was naked, her arms spread-eagled, on her own bed. She thought of the possibility of Scott coming home and finding her naked and helpless. Perhaps he would be so enraged he'd rape, her. A sick shudder and thrill ran through her at the thought and the utter helplessness of her position.
Not a word had been spoken since she came in the room. Mike and Marsha were at the foot of the bed, seizing her ankles and spreading her legs wide with Mike crawling between her legs and roughly, purposely, massaging the pulpy lips of her cunt and sticking his fingers up her tunnel, sawing them in and out while he grinned. He grinned at the shudder that went through Sheila's body at being so brutally used. He watched her strain her arms against her bonds and knew she was enjoying it.
Marsha, her expression greedy and depraved, sat on her slender stomach, her knees on either side. She smirked as she looked down. "Sometime ... I'm going to fuck you."
A faint smile was on Sheila's thick lips, they her face contorted as Mike shoved his fingers up her cunt once again.
Marsha's fingers played with Sheila's nipples as her hoarse whisper said, "I want a little pleasure from you." Lifting her weight, she began inching up Sheila's torso, her cunt split wide, her cunt-lips in a deep cleft.
Exciting herself even more, Sheila strained against her bonds, struggling a little as Marsha inched up over her breasts, kneeling now with her thighs split wide. Sheila looked up to see Marsha's gaping moist cunt right in front of her face. The swollen lips were parted with an unholy desire, and even as she watched she could see the lubricated cunt walls contract convulsively with an itching lewdness.
Marsha's face was contorted and she let out a cat-like hiss as she thrust her cunt down on Sheila's wild gypsy face and ground it around. She felt Sheila's tongue darting, curling up into her passage and she began slowly gyrating and rotating her hips, grinding her cunt down on Sheila's eager, greedy mouth.
Mike let out a hoarse cry when he saw what was happening, when he saw Marsha's naked buttocks split wide and writhing, undulating, pumping around.
He was on Sheila like a madman, his brutal blunt cock probing blindly, then finding Sheila's cunt and plunging home with a loud wet sound. He began fucking her all out, slamming his cock into her with a hoarse cry. Her whole body shuddered under each impact and yet ... yet her lovely hips ground back, thrusting out and moving, undulating as if they were on oiled springs.
It was a wild intense scene of utter debauchery as Mike, fucking brutally, savagely, leaned his head forward and willfully, hungrily, let his tongue lick wetly up the fleshy crevice between Marsha's buttocks that were writhing and twisting and convulsing before his eyes. His tongue trailed wetly over her taut anus and Marsha's whole body tensed and was absolutely motionless for a moment. Her buttocks spread wide in a delightful way, welcoming his tongue to its target. She waited what seemed an interminable second while Sheila's tongue flailed away, tormenting her cunt delightfully, and then Mike's hot velvet tongue struck again and Marsha moaned aloud, her head falling back and her hips churning and pumping like a belly dancer gone mad as the twin tongues lashed at her, rocketing her to an ecstatic cum.
"AAAAaaaaggghhhhhhhaaaaa!!"
Marsha seemed to soar higher, her hands flying to her breasts and cupping them, sacrificially offering them to some cum-God as her body jolted back and forth and her face twitched as she came again and again, over and over, in ecstasy, twitching and jerking like someone holding a high-voltage wire and unable to let go.
She finally fell slowly to one side, collapsing in a deep sensuous exhaustion.
She lay on her side, panting, watching Mike and Sheila through half-open eyes. Sensing Marsha's excitement, being overwhelmed by it, they went at each other like two big cats. Their mouths locked together except for when Sheila shook her mane of hair and wiggled her mouth loose. Then she licked his face and neck and shoulders with her curling warm tongue. She fought to suck his cock for a moment but lost, as Mike shoved his rigid prick home all the way in her hotly moist cunt and felt her vaginal lips contract tightly around the base of the shaft. They locked open mouths again and Mike pressed all his body against Sheila's yielding flesh. He wanted to dominate her and fuck her as he wished while she strained her arms against her wrists.
Marsha watched them as they fucked, their bodies glued together, their stomachs writhing. Mike was struggling to dominate Sheila and he did, fucking her hard and fast until her knees gradually bent a little more with each pounding, cock-hard thrust, and Sheila desperately wrapped her lovely long legs around his back, pulling him deeper into her and at the same time opening her cunt completely to his battering.
Her head thrashed from side to side as she realized the ecstatic danger she was in. Suppose Scott should choose this moment to come home?
She reveled, almost gloated over her complete helplessness and longed for more humiliation. She longed for an orgy in which she would be taken again and again. She imagined men surrounding her with thickly rigid cocks all over her body. Cocks bone-hard, throbbing, waiting to fuck her. She strained at her flimsy bonds and felt a strange masochistic thrill run through her. It was a dark and forbidden kind of a thrill, as addictive as the worst drug: once felt, she wanted it again and again.
Mike fucked her with all his might and the two of them struggled until Sheila's body suddenly lurched and she tore her face free to scream. "Aaagghhhaa!"
Her body snapped, and for a second she lifted both their bodies free of the bed as her back arched deeply, thrusting upward.
Mike fucked her with a snarl, literally pounding her back down to the bed and fucking even harder as her quivering flesh gave no resistance to him. Sheila lay moaning, her body trembling with each thrust as her eyes showed white and her face twitched as she still felt bolts of pleasure from her cum.
He came with a guttural triumphant cry, pumping his white hot cum into her convulsing cunt until he jerked himself into a collapse. The three of them lay in silence for a moment, panting, catching their breath and savoring the dregs of their compulsive behavior. Sheila unclenched her fists and looked at her hands and wrists and saw where her bra strings bit into her wrist. Mike crawled up to untie her. "I tell you," he said, catching his breath, "we just gotta do a movie."
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next few weeks turned into a life of sheer ups and downs for Sheila. She felt she knew what it was truly like to be a schizophrenic. She was the happy housewife when Scott came home; she was his charming and attractive wife who smiled and made polite conversation whenever they were out in public; she was his pet, ready, available, willing to his command.
Scott worked and planned and found his wife all that he could ask. An ambitious man, his mind was almost always on his work and he talked about it incessantly, for he wanted to get ahead. In fact, his work was his only frustration in life. His ambition drove him and he was sometimes frustrated because he couldn't get ahead fast enough. There were nights when he would pace the floor, slamming his fist into the palm of his hand. "There has to be a way to get to the rich people in this area. I know it. I can feel it. There's got to be a way. I've just got to find a way."
"You will."
"But why can't I do it? Sometimes I think it's right in front of me. Sometimes I think the way is so obvious I can't see it. Like you can't see the forest for the trees or like one of those murder mysteries where the clue is right under your nose all the time. Honey, I'm so close to succeeding I can taste it."
Sheila would listen and agree and they made plans for their future life-the home they would buy, the kind of life they would lead-and she listened and agreed and loved her husband.
Then there were the days, the time she spent alone, away from Scott. Those were days spent walking around electric with terror or rigid with cold bony fear whenever the phone rang or there came a knock on the door. She tried not being at home during the day ... she had luncheon dates with friends or visited neighbors or went to the library or for long drives when she would be alone and brood. Always, sooner or later, the phone would ring and she would stand looking at it, watching it jangle again and again. Once it rang twenty-two consecutive times. Finally, one day, as she was about to go out the door, the phone rang and wearied, angry, she went to the phone and picked it up. "Hello?"
"Well, finally got you."
Her eyes narrowed. "Marsha, leave me alone. Do you hear me? Leave me alone."
Marsha ticked her tongue against her teeth. "That's no way to talk to an old friend."
"Leave me alone. I did what you wanted. We're even. Leave me alone. I'm hanging up."
"Okay, Have it your way. Guess I won't get the chance to tell you why I called. We're coming down."
"You ... what?"
Marsha's voice was cool and husky. "We're coming down for a long weekend. Maybe we'll all stop in and see you."
"Wait."
"'Bye."
"Marsha, wait...." She licked her lips and then said the word. " ... please."
"Ah, that's better. Much better. We're all coming down for a long lazy weekend. I'm sure you don't want us dropping in on ... what was the name? Scott, wasn't it?"
"Yes. I mean, no, I don't want you dropping in."
"Good. Then see us Thursday at the Pine Inn and we won't bother you for the rest of the weekend."
"That's a kind of blackmail."
"Call it what you want, but be practical."
"I won't do it."
"Sheila, don't play bitchy games with me. You know that Mike's capable of destroying you just for the hell of it and you know I'm not above seeing you squirm." There was a low throaty chuckle in Sheila's ear over the phone. Marsha's voice was low and husky as it purred in her ear. "In fact, I kind of like it."
Sheila couldn't say a word. Marsha's voice in her ear set off all kinds of suppressed desires and she wanted to pull up her dress and put the receiver right by her cunt so that Marsha's voice would be there.
"Hello? Hello? Sheila, are you there? Sheila? If you're listening, we'll be down to see you Thursday. All of us will be at the Pine Inn."
There was a click and Sheila stood trembling, her eyes closed. Slowly she opened them and began to frown, goose bumps creeping up her delicate spine. Marsha had said, "All."
On Thursday, she was to see who "all" was. They called her and she was afraid not to answer. Marsha called and she drove to the Pine Inn, parking her car blocks away, in a residential neighborhood, and walked to the Pine Inn and went in the back way and used the back stairs that weren't known to the tourists but only to Carmelites who rarely used them.
In their room, she met Fred.
Fred was a newfound friend. He was young and tall and muscular. In fact, he was built like a lifeguard or weightlifter. "Fred," Mike said with an airy wave of the hand, "is going to star in my new film."
"Wait until you hear about it," Marsha added.
Sheila looked at Fred, who grinned at her in a knowing way and said, "Hi."
Mike was moving around the room, holding his hands up like he was looking through a camera frame. "Hold it. Just stand next to Fred for a minute, will you?"
"I'm not going to be in any film!" Sheila snapped.
Marsha twitched her hips. "You will when you hear what we have in store for you."
"No!"
Mike looked at her a moment before saying, "Yes!"
"No!"
Mike threw up his hands. "Okay, Fred, Marsha, let's get things rolling. Let's go."
Sheila's eyes widened as Fred and Marsha began to coldly strip. "I'm leaving."
"Fine, fine," Mike said with a mask of geniality. "We'll all meet later at your house."
Sheila stood in the room, defeat on her face. She knew she had to stay. She had to be there, but she didn't have to act like she enjoyed it.
However, Sheila's eyes grew big and she audibly gasped when Fred stripped naked and revealed a huge penis. She had never seen anything so huge! It was still soft and growing sluggishly bigger as Marsha, naked, wanton, toyed with it. They all laughed at Sheila's reaction. Slowly she put her hand to her mouth and backed away. It was the biggest penis she had ever seen and swelling every moment she looked at it.
It was becoming obscenely alive, bulging with veins and with the foreskin rolling back to reveal a mammoth mushroom head. A shiver racked Sheila's body, such a leviathan cock would hurt her, split her, kill her. Such a cock would ram all the way to her belly. Slowly she backed to the door.
"Go on, Fred, we told you what she likes." It was Mike's voice, low and insinuating.
With a guttural chuckle, Fred walked toward her, his muscles rippling, his smile tight and crooked, his gigantic cock held in one hand.
Sheila tried to back toward the door, but was not fast enough. Fred caught her, one huge hammy hand tangling in her thick black hair. "D ... don't!" Sheila gave out a little cry of pain as he twisted her head, pulled her hair and roughly forced her to the floor. She thumped to her knees in front of him, her head held rigidly in place. She opened her eyes to see his blunt, massive prick wavering in front of her face. He was brutal about it and rubbed the thickly hot head all over her face and sensuous full lips. She found with her hands, trying to push it away.
Marsha naked, her breasts jiggling, rushed to her side. Mike joined her. They seized her wrists and pulled her hands down and behind her. Her arms were held in a brutal grip. Mike's powerful hands held them in place, "That's it," he said in a breathy voice. "That's it. Get something, we'll tie her."
Marsha stripped the belt off a robe and they bound her hands behind her while Fred, chuckling, held her head painfully in place.
Once she was secured, Marsha and Mike stepped back to get a better view, Mike again framing his hands as if he were looking through a viewfinder. They watched as Fred went about brutally dominating Sheila as she knelt in front of him and struggled with her tied hands. She tried turning her head, her lips sealed tight, but a stinging slap that made her see stars and caused her ears to ring made her gasp. Fred grinned down at her, taking his long thick cock in his hand again, still holding her by the hair. "Maybe now the little lady is ready."
"Wait!" Marsha scurried forward, kneeling by Sheila's side. "I want to add a little something."
Quickly she unbuttoned the front of Sheila's blouse down to her waist. Deftly reaching behind, she popped the clasp on her bra and her big breasts gave a little leap of quivering freedom. She pulled the bra forward and down, revealing Sheila's naked breasts in all their voluptuous beauty. Fred, looking down, nodded. "Not bad at all."
But Marsha wasn't through. She reached down and pulled up Sheila's skirt over her fanning hips and up to her slender, girlish waist. She tucked the skirt in so it would stay up, then, with that depraved grin, she slowly skinned down her panties, revealing her ample, fully rounded buttocks. Marsha took a second to caress them, then, coming closer, she caressed Sheila's breasts and bulleted nipples and whispered, "I've got a little present for you later on. We're going to do a little show for the boys."
A low moan wormed its way free from Sheila's lips and she opened her mouth wide to take in the brutally mammoth head. She found she had to open her mouth as wide as she could as she felt the hot, hard, rubbery hugeness of the cock filling her mouth. Her jaws were spread painfully wide as she felt the throbbing head slip easily into her saliva-smooth mouth and knew she couldn't even begin to take all or even half the long prick into her mouth. Her thick voluptuous lips that made her look like a sultry gypsy girl were stretched tightly around the shaft of the cock, imprisoning the blood-gorged head. While Mike and Marsha watched, Fred, standing naked and powerful near the middle of the room holding a trussed and obscenely naked Sheila by the hair, brutally, cold-bloodedly began fucking Sheila in the mouth.
They did everything they could think of to her that afternoon. All day, with periods of rest and watching, the three of them did everything sexual they could think of to Sheila. Beyond a certain point, there was no reason to tie Sheila except for her own masochistic pleasure: she was more than willing. They satisfied every little whim they could think of on her body. They asked her to crawl across the floor on her hands and knees and lick their naked feet and toes and she did it. She was fucked to within an inch of her life by Fred's great cock which slammed in and out of her like a prehistoric battering ram.
She was humiliated and debased in every way possible ... and she loved it! She gloated over her debasement and found herself driven to one wild orgasm after another by perverted acts with Marsha. She watched in a kind of masochistic trance as Marsha strapped on a complicated leather harness. Even the men were fascinated as they watched Marsha adjust the bulging leather dildo, shaped so exactly like an erect penis. Marsha looked surrealistic as she moved around, a lovely wanton woman with a strange penis strapped in place.
It was an obscene show the two girls put on, with Mike talking and making plans. "We just got to make a picture."
CHAPTER NINE
Sheila's life went on, outwardly calm and rational, while inside her brain seethed in a wild cauldron of sexual debasement. During the week, she played the role of Scott's wife and seemed to grow nervous as the weekends came around. As time went by, a change came over her that even Scott noticed. She looked different, a little thinner, a few rings around the eyes. Bruises on her hip were explained away by a fall in the garden while pruning. The neighbors were looking at Scott with veiled smiles and making vague references to, "Mrs. Baines and her friends." On some Fridays, Sheila seemed to disappear for the whole day and explain her absence by, "Oh ... I took a long drive out the valley to Greenfield. Had lunch in a charming little place."
Things mounted up. Friends said they saw her coming from the Pine Inn. When asked about it, she replied, "It must have been somebody who looked like me. I wasn't near the Pine Inn."
It was more her attitude than anything. As time passed Scott noticed that Sheila was strange on Friday evenings. She seemed exhausted, sated, and the look in her eye was strange and disturbing. Gradually it dawned on his male ego that something was not right. Something was wrong and something was going on that he didn't know about. He took to coming home at odd times, popping in, all smiles. Without notice, he would take her to lunch ... at the Pine Inn. All was normal ... nothing unusual happened ... yet he couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that something was going on just out of his hearing and sight.
It stayed with him, arousing his jealousy until he was not going to work but following his wife around whenever she went shopping downtown. He would park his car a block away and sit in it for hours, watching his house to see if anyone visited it while he was away.
Although his business suffered, he determined to watch on Friday. He spent the whole day cramped in his car, watching the house, embarrassed by the people who saw him sitting. He spent the whole day and saw exactly nothing.
When Sheila hadn't shown up at the proper time, Mike had called her house. "How come?"
"It's Scott. He's suspicious."
"What does he know?"
"Enough to make him follow me, watch me all day. He's sitting in a car down the block now."
"Okay. Nothing to worry about. We'll start the plan."
He hung up in Sheila's ear and she felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. A sick feeling and that odd masochistic excitement.
The plan. She had agreed to it at one of the sessions with the three of them at the Pine Inn. The plan. She had agreed to the plan while Fred nearly crushed her in his huge iron arms and fucked her with that great cock of his that stretched her cunt as tight as it would go. The plan. Gleefully gloating, she had agreed to it after Marsha and Mike had gotten through with her and while Fred was fucking her and she was insane with the combination of powerful hashish and rampant lust. She had agreed while writhing on the bed. She had sworn she would be part of the plan.
Afterward, exhausted, dazed, she realized she meant it ... that she would go ahead with it. Mike and Marsha had too great a hold on her now for her to turn back. She agreed to the plan because, insane as it was, it was at least a chance and ... it excited her masochistically.
Once she informed Mike, the plan was put into effect immediately. Mike and Marsha rented a cottage in Carmel near the beach for a month. Mike went back up to the city to get his camera equipment while Marsha and muscular Fred set up light housekeeping. Fred jogged on the beach to keep in shape and Marsha got dressed to the teeth and went to visit Scott as Marsha Evans, new to town, a divorcee, and eager to invest her money. She visited Scott at his office in downtown Carmel.
She caused enough attention coming in, wearing a wild dress that was low cut and revealed her bulging breasts held quiveringly in place by a half-bra. The dress was slit up one side, revealing long sensuous legs sheathed in sheer black stockings.
"Mr. Baines?" she asked in that throaty voice.
"Yes," Scott took her in. It was a wicked face he looked at, with a wide sensuous mouth. Plenty of makeup-perhaps too much for his taste-but good features with a depraved look to the eyes. She smiled back at him boldly, almost brazenly.
"I've been told to look you up." She gave the name of a brokerage house in San Francisco that Mike had looked up. Scott was pleased and flattered that his name should be so well-known. He was also slightly ill at ease talking with Marsha. She told him her circumstances quickly, in a low voice, standing close to him and smelling of some devilish perfume. He invited her into his cubicle, just like the ones that all brokers had in the Carmel House. He could see some of his friends smirking. He tried to be as cool as he could. He sat down and Marsha looked at him through half-closed eyes, obviously admiring him. "Mmmmmmmmm. They didn't tell me you would be so handsome and so...."
Scott, caught off balance, flattered, stuttered, "W ... well, and so ... what?"
"Sexual." Marsha almost hissed the words and Scott felt his cock give a little leap of uncontrolled excitement Because of the way he lived, it had been a long time since he had talked to or been in contact with a woman like Marsha. He liked it in a dirty wild-party kind of way.
He cleared his throat. He had better get rid of Marsha Evans as soon as possible. He didn't know what her game was, but he didn't think it was going to do his Carmel reputation any good. "Ah ... how much were you thinking of investing, Miss ... ah ... Mrs. Evans?"
"Marsha, call me Marsha. I don't know. I don't know anything about investing. How about fifty thousand?"
"F ... fifty." Scott shut up and fought for control while his mind hysterically calculated the commission on fifty thousand dollars. "Well, that's a substantial sum. I think I can make some suggestions along those lines ... Mrs...."
"Marsha." She leaned forward, showing more of her cleavage, her voice throaty and appealing. "Listen, Scott, if you're going to handle fifty thousand dollars of mine, you're going to call me Marsha. Any man that fools around with my money is going to have to fool around with me. Now." She looked around, wrinkling her nose. "I don't like this place. This is no place to talk. Why don't we have lunch and you can tell me what I should do and we can-" She leaned forward, touching his arm, "-get to know each other."
She gave him her address and lunch was agreed to. When she left, every male in the place was watching her. They flocked to Scott's cubicle, wanting information. Scott played it cool and vague.
He picked Kalisa's down on Cannery Row for lunch. He didn't really admit to himself why he picked Kalisa's. It was out of the way and he wasn't likely to run into anyone he knew. Besides, Kalisa's was right across the street from Doc's laboratory of John Steinbeck fame. Kalisa's used to be a whorehouse frequented by Steinbeck and his cronies back in the heyday of Cannery Row. Now Kalisa herself ran a good restaurant that kept as much of the original flavor of the whorehouse as possible. Scott told Marsha all about it and she smiled at him for a long uncomfortable minute before she said, "How appropriate. Scott?"
"Yes?"
"We're going to have an affair."
Her quiet husky voice and her knowing smile made Scott cough. At her insistence, he did something he had rarely done before ... he had a cocktail at lunch. He had three of them before they canceled lunch and drove away in his car. Marsha was almost laughing out loud: he had been so easy, a push-over. "Let's drive to a sleazy motel someplace. Let's make it nice and illicit." She cuddled up to him, grinning.
At the motel, Scott was nervous and half drunk from the cocktails and the idea of sex with a wanton women. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched her strip with his mouth open. She just didn't take her clothes off, she stood facing him and slowly, teasing, provoking, wiggling, she stripped.
She stood naked in front of him, wildly, lewdly beautiful, rubbing the palms of her hands up and down her long curved thighs, breathing deeply, looking at him with a hungry gaze.
He gasped when she put her hands behind her head and wantonly, obscenely, put her hips out and rotated and ground her hips back and forth. With a lascivious smile, she turned her back and bent her knees, thrusting out her twin buttocks and wiggling them in front of his face.
Scott was stunned by lust and his unexpected luck at having such a woman all to himself. Before he could move, she was on her knees in front of him, her hands cupped to her breasts with the nipples taut and pointed. He cupped them in his own hands, finding them soft and warm and pliable, and Marsha reached between his legs and unzipped his fly, groping for and finding his prick. She pulled the erect thing out of his pants and immediately buried it in her mouth.
He felt the velvet-hot shock of her mouth and groaned aloud. It had been years since anyone had done that to him. Inwardly, deep down, he cursed his wife Sheila. She was always so stiff in bed and eager to get it over with. Now he had to fight against his lust and excitement in order not to cum in the girl's mouth. He looked down in amazement at her naked body crouched below him, between his knees. He saw her breasts dancing and jiggling and her head bobbing up and down and heard the wet sucking sounds she made with her mouth and felt her hot wetness and he roared. "Aaaahhhhhhhgggaaa!!"
He seized her head with both his hands and pumped his premature cum into her mouth, reveling in doing such a savage thing. She sucked him dry down to the last drop and he fell back on the bed, still fully clothed.
Slowly, while he lay moaning with a grin on his face, she undressed him and then attacked his cock again with her mouth in such a greedy way it seemed she would never get enough. Slowly, with deft teasings, she nursed and sucked his cock back to enormity and he shoved it up her waiting, squirming cunt.
They fucked on the bed and on the floor. They fucked all over the motel room and he fucked her in every position possible. He fucked her until he was in a state of exhaustion and he finally came in her cunt, jerking and moaning, spilling what hot sticky cum he had deep into her cunt.
Fatigued, half-drunk, sobering, drained, he let his head sag back on the pillow and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
Something wouldn't let him be. He awoke and craned his neck in exhausted amazement. Marsha had his cock in her mouth, sucking him off, raising him to a blood-gorged hard-on once again. She got up on top of him and guided his sore cock into her cunt and writhed in slow motion over him, bending over to whisper amazing suggestions in his ear. She could, she whispered, fix it so he could have two women at once ... her pause was lascivious ... she could do such a thing if he would like it.
For a reply, he found himself moaning and his face twitching as his sore cock shot his cum once again.
The plan.
Scott had no idea that he was victim of a plan. He saw Marsha almost every day, meeting either at her house or in a motel. He forgot completely about his own suspicions of Sheila ... he simply forgot and could only feel his own guilt whenever he was with her. He tried to be good to her and to make up for his infidelity in little gifts and lots of attention.
Sheila did her part of the plan by being sweet while asking, "Say, I bumped into Bernice Cartwright today and she said she saw you down on Cannery Row with an attractive and wild-looking woman."
"Who? Me? No, it wasn't me. I haven't been down on Cannery Row in months."
"Must have been someone who looks like you." Sheila smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Days went by in which Scott sat in his little cubicle at the stock exchange and wondered what was happening to his life. He was making money for Marsha Evans, lots of it. He was also making money for himself. He was also having an affair with a woman he regarded as little better than a slut. She was insatiable and was always wanting to try new things. He wondered about her life and how she knew so much about sex and yet he couldn't say he didn't enjoy being with her and her audacious tricks: she wanted to go to a movie and fuck in the balcony and she wanted him to drive his car on the freeway while she sucked him off.
He had to admit he couldn't get enough of her. Yet she was vile and almost perverted in the things she liked to do. She kept hinting about a girlfriend who, if things were right, would go to bed with the two of them. "Just think," she would hiss in his ear, "two of us doing everything you wanted."
He was more worried about himself than anything else. He was terribly worried about being caught and found out. It would ruin his life and his marriage, yet he worried about himself more than anything else. He found he actually liked doing filthy and bizarre things with Marsha. He loved it. He enjoyed tying her to the bed and doing what he pleased. He was thrilled with the strange suggestions and ideas she whispered in his ear. He didn't know whether to believe her or not, but he was aroused and excited by what she said.
She even told him of an orgy one afternoon. She was particularly wanton and teasing that afternoon, sucking and fucking right up to the point of his cum, then stopping and resting and talking lewdly, driving him insane with desire. She talked about orgies and admitted being at several and told him in detail about them.
"There's going to be one next week."
"Where?" Eagerly he took the bait.
"Here. On the peninsula."
"Yeah, but where?"
"Why?" she teased, lying by his side and playing with his rigid cock. "Are you interested?"
"Maybe," he confessed, his buttocks twitching as she played with his cock. "Where's it going to be?"
"On Cannery Row. In an abandoned cannery. It's all arranged."
"H ... how many people will there...."
"Be there fucking?" she asked, finishing his question. "Lots." She rolled on top of him, squirming her cunt against his cock. "You and I could be there."
"How?"
"Easy. Just take me."
Scott thought for a frantic second before shaking his head. "I ... I just couldn't."
"Now it's my turn. Why?"
"Well ... somebody might recognize me.
"It's a costume ball, you ninny. Masks and all that. Nobody will recognize you unless you want them to."
"Well ... there's my wife."
"You can't get away from her?"
"Well ... yes, I guess I can. Hell, why not?"
"That's my tiger!" Marsha said, laughing in her husky way.
CHAPTER TEN
The plan worked beautifully up to a point. There was still the orgy to come and Mike knew that anything could happen at an orgy. It could turn ugly in a minute ... police could crash through locked doors at any time ... a girl could go berserk ... drugs were bound to be in use ... there were so many things that made an orgy dangerous ... and exciting.
The cannery was rented for the night and Mike sent a crew in to decorate it and place hidden cameras. Once things got going, there would be no need for concealment, but, until then, it was best to be discreet. Word was put out to the proper people and Scott lied to his wife with admirable ease. Reluctantly, he had to drive up to San Jose and attend a dinner for a client.
Only men were invited. "It's probably going to be a late thing so I might check in a hotel some place and drive home the next day."
"Whatever you think is right, honey."
Scott kissed his wife goodnight and goodbye and walked to the car whistling, barely able to conceal his glee at going to his first orgy.
At Marsha's house, after a stiff cocktail, he changed into his costume: Pierrot with a cape and mask. Marsha was dressed in a revealing harem costume that was cut daringly low on the hips, revealing her navel and barely covering her bulging breasts, showing her deep cleavage. Her face was covered with a veil, revealing only her eyes which were wickedly made up.
They had two strong drinks to get them in the mood, then they drove to Monterey over the Carmel cutoff, coming down to Cannery Row through Tortilla Flats. They drove to the far northern end of Cannery Row, away from all the shops and restaurants and down to where the big canneries sat dark and deserted.
"Say, maybe it's been called off," Scott said weakly.
"Chicken." Marsha grinned behind her veil. "What do you think we're going to do? Put a spotlight out here and have big signs ... This Way To The Orgy?"
Scott had to laugh. "Which cannery is it?"
"That one, the big white one."
"It's all dark."
"Mike and his friends draped the windows, stupid."
They parked the car and walked to the cannery with Scott feeling self-conscious in his costume. He noticed that a lot of cars-expensive ones-were parked near the cannery. They let themselves in through a side door and were immediately met by a big Negro who solemnly asked them for their invitations with a business-like attitude. Marsha produced the invitation and they passed on, the Negro instructing them to go to the back of the cannery. They walked alongside a huge boiler with bolts studding its sides.
They came to the back of the cannery and could hear the rush of waves under the building. The back of the cannery was one big room dramatically lighted by spots that had been cleverly placed above. Cool, insinuating jazz was being played over speakers placed along the walls. Stuffed chairs and long low couches were grouped around a platform. The platform had been especially built for the occasion and was painted black with a mattress covered in black lying on top of it. The platform was built more to delineate rather than elevate and it was easy to see the mattress when sitting in the chairs or couches.
Incense wafted through the air and a portable bar had been set up. Early arrivers congregated with drinks in their hands, talking and looking at one another from behind concealing masks.
Scott felt an ambivalent thrill as he looked around the huge old cannery that was so dramatically lighted by spots. He was nervous and tentative, afraid someone would see through his disguise and find him out ... it would be bad for his career if he should be found out. At the same time, accounting for the ambivalence, he was also secretly thrilled by the situation. There was something so evil, something so suggestively lewd in hiding behind a mask and costume with the intention of doing wild and wicked things.
He stood by Marsha and looked around the room, a wildly exciting throbbing and swelling growing in his penis. It could be a night he would never forget. There were all sorts of interesting-looking women standing around in all sorts of revealing and tantalizing costumes.
One in particular caught his eye.
He moved across the floor, almost forgetting Marsha, toward the bar, getting himself a drink as he eyed the girl in the angel costume. He tried to drift around the room, nodding and making polite small talk to masked guests, and get closer to the girl in the revealing and far-from-saintly angel costume.
It was almost as if she was playing cat and mouse with him. She was elusive, seeming to move away whenever he got near her, always keeping people between them. The room was filling rapidly with latecomers and Scott's head was always turning to catch the flash of a naked thigh or look with glittering lust in his eyes at the full, ample cleavage of some new arrival.
Despite himself, he never got a clear look at the angel. She was always on the other side of the crowd, always retreating whenever he moved toward her. Yet ... he could swear that she saw him, that she glanced his way and smiled at him with a curiously knowing little smile. He frowned behind his mask, suspecting he might know her, for there was something familiar about the way she glanced at him.
The girl dressed as an angel was all in white. She wore a fancy face-mask that glittered with white sequins. She wore a towering white wig, a powdered wig that reminded him of the corrupt and depraved court of Louis XIV. Yet it was her snow-white robe, her gossamer gown that caught his eye and excited his lust.
The gown revealed more than it concealed. It was simply two panels or lengths of shimmering white cloth hanging in front and back. It was more than slit up the sides: except for a couple of flimsy drawstrings, the angel girl stood naked.
Scott took in her naked form and felt his cock hardening under his own costume. He could see the girl's naked and shapely leg and thigh and hip and waist. He could see her naked torso on up to and including her opulent and swelling breasts. Whenever the girl moved, he caught the flash and supple power of her thighs, the silky molding of her stomach, the bounce and quiver of her large thrusting breasts. He could see her nipples barely covered by the white material as they jutted out and almost seemed to thrust through the flimsy cloth. Once, as she turned from him, he saw a breathtaking glimpse of her fully rounded buttocks. They quivered firmly and rocked up and down in an enticing way as she walked. They were like two huge balls pressed together ... almost too big but not quite. Scott decided he had never seen such a high, proud, thrusting ass and he longed to cup its fullness in his hands as he fucked the angel girl.
She had a drink in her hand and looked across the room, directly at him. A strangely familiar and disturbing smile, a smile of pure depravity and sensual pleasure, spread her ruby lips. Slowly, teasingly, in a casual way, she put all her weight on one leg and stood with one big curving hip thrust wantonly and provocatively out. Scott swallowed hard as he looked at her enticing nakedness. It was brazen the way she was so undressed in front of strangers. He caught a quick glimpse of her black pubic hair as she moved and his cock jumped once again.
He had to grin at the girl as she moved around. Two little innocent white angel wings had been taped to her back. He shook his head in admiration as she walked away from him, wiggling that voluptuously firm ass as she walked.
He felt Marsha at his side. She too was smiling and watching the angel girl. "I could die of thirst around you."
"Huh?"
Marsha smiled from behind her mask, swinging her hips in imitation of the angel girl. "I asked you for a drink way back and you went off to get it and then spotted that unidentified flying object."
"Who is she?"
Marsha smiled and began to sing in his ear in her throaty voice, "I'm just an angel in disguise...."
"Come on, who is she?"
"Where's my drink?"
"I'll get it in a minute. Who is she?"
"That," said Marsha with a nod of her head, "is first prize."
"Prize? Huh?" Scott asked the question more to cover his excitement than his ignorance. He knew, with a quick, low chuckle, just what Marsha meant. She was going to be raffled off ... that little angel was going to belong to somebody ... and that somebody could probably do anything he wanted with that little smiling angel. He licked his lips in anticipation as his excited mind ran over the possibilities. He nodded to himself, thinking: this is going to be some night.
"You know, if I was a camel, I wouldn't mind waiting while you drooled to your heart's content. Besides, baby, you did come with me."
"Huh? Yeah, sure." Stung by the gibe, he went obediently to the bar. He had been giving the angel the hard-stare treatment. He got back to Marsha with two drinks just in time to see her talking to the angel. Both of them were smiling. The angel said something as he was threading his way through the crowd toward them. The angel fled away, slipping past people, smiling teasingly back over her naked shoulder.
Scott handed Marsha her drink. "You know her! Who is she and what was she saying?"
Marsha laughed and toasted him with her drink. "Bottoms up ... in more ways than one!"
Scott gulped his drink and peered into the crowd for any glimpse of the angel girl. An excitement was pumping through the veins of his swelling cock. More than that, an electric, pulsating excitement was sweeping the room. Mass excitement possessed everyone as the dangerous and pure raw lust of the event gripped everyone.
Couples were beginning to become uninhibited and men and women exchanged intimate caresses. Drinks were being consumed at a rapid hysterical rate and people were becoming visibly drunken and careless with their hands. Couples were sitting on the couches and stuffed chairs and playfully, openly, caressing one another. From somewhere in the room came the pungent odor of burning hemp: marijuana and hashish. Scott smelled the sickly sweet odor and tensed ... then, quickly, he shrugged and drained his glass.
Each to his own, he thought. He would have none of it. His eyes narrowed as he made his way to the bar. He would have some of that angel cake all to himself.
He stood at the bar with Marsha, looking around, watching the surrealistic scene going on before him. Something out of a black mass or witches' sabbath. Masked men and women were all around the room and all around him and Marsha, some near enough to touch. He couldn't believe his eyes. Near him was a blonde, half lying on a couch in a can-can dancer's costume. A man dressed as a masked priest had stripped her large breasts free and was rudely and roughly fondling them.
The girl half slumped on the couch, her head thrown back. Her hands pulled up her can-can dress and Scott saw her full thighs encased in sheer black silk. He saw her red garter belt holding the black stockings up and he saw her white flesh and then the dark, hairy wetness of her pouting vaginal lips. He was looking down and seeing a strange girl's cunt wantonly exposed as she invitingly spread her legs and smiled languidly up at him.
Someone was controlling the spotlights and they were beginning to dim and narrow their cones of light. A lusty, heated excitement swept the big room as the lights dimmed down just enough to make everything fuzzy. The vastness of the cannery vanished in the dark.
At the same time, light was increasing on the platform and the mattress. A cone of bright light was cutting down dramatically in the dark, calling attention to the center of the circle. Couples gravitated to chairs and couches. Thick rugs with pillows strewn around on the floor served as harem-chairs as everyone was drawn around the platform and the mattress much the way moths flutter hysterically around a light, drawn to their doom with a passion.
It was easy to see why they gathered around. Standing on the platform under the bright light was Mike. He was dressed in a scarlet devil's costume complete with a forked tail. His grin was sardonic behind his devil's mask as his eyes swept the upper reaches of the cannery. The walls and ceiling were lost in darkness and that was just the way he wanted things to be. None of the guests would see or be bothered by the camera crews that were swinging silently into position, focussing in with various lenses. Mike knew it was going to work just fine with telephoto lenses in place. The room, the platform, the people were covered from every possible angle.
Mike raised his hands for quiet and to stall, to make sure his crews were in place and the cameras grinding.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. All invited guests are now here and I've been told that the cannery doors are locked and guarded." He pointed one finger up. "Remember, in case of trouble, the guards will give you all the time they can." His grin was malevolent as he looked at the revelers around him. They looked like they were attending a lewd Mardi gras. "And remember that your identity is your own business. One final warning. There is only one rule: no rough stuff unless somebody asks for it."
Dramatically, Mike stepped aside and beckoned into the crowd. A gasp and murmur went up as Sheila, dressed as a lascivious angel, stepped into the cone of light and stood provocatively by the mattress which was covered in black. She contrasted wildly with her surroundings, in her skimpy white gown. Even as everyone watched, taking in her semi-nakedness, one breast quivered free from the flimsy material and her nipple was freed and was pointed and ripe as a plum. Most of her globular breast trembled free and greedy eyes took in its round loveliness. Sheila seemed not to notice or know.
It was obvious from the way she walked, weaving loosely, that she had been drinking. To the initiated, to other users, it was obvious she was drugged on dope, for her mouth was slack and smiling absently.
Everyone watched as she raised her hands above her head and slowly turned around for all to see.
"A prize for the night!" Mike called out. "An angel for the person or person holding the winning invitation."
Another gasp and a low excited murmur went up as people leaned forward or moved closer. Scott felt his pulse hammering in his wrist as Marsha pressed her body against his and her hand lewdly and holding caressed his cock and fumbled for the zipper. Both of them had their eyes glued to the stage as Scott fondled her breasts.
"Your invitations are numbered." Mike walked around the edge of the platform, holding an invitation aloft. Couples broke their exhibitionistic embraces to find their invitations. "To the winner goes this angel. The winners ... or winner ... male or female ... or both ... may have this lovely young thing. And ... you may do whatever you like." The room was abuzz with heated excitement as people talked to one another urgently, never taking their eyes from the stage. Bets were made and deals worked out.
The room was lust-drenched and excitement crackled in the air as Scott looked at the tempting angel on the platform. His hand was sweaty as he clutched his invitation. Marsha's breath was coming fast as she pulled his rock-hard prick free from his pants and slowly began stroking it as her depraved eyes took in Sheila standing on the stage.
"Anything you like," Mike repeated, "with only one little catch."
The cannery was suddenly so still that surf could be heard washing in under the concrete floor. The room was quiet as eyes hidden behind masks glinted and became wary. The angel was tempting, but what was the catch?
"Anything you like. Anything at all," Mike intoned, "so long as the rest of us can watch!"
The room exploded in a hot hissing rush. Women were cat-like and men felt brutal savage surges in their loins. Scott felt more crude and primitive than ever before in his life. Nervously, a few vestiges of respectability remaining, he glanced around to see if anyone noticed Marsha stroking his cock.
No one was looking. In fact, he saw one young girl bent over the back of a chair, her dress pulled up and her black panties pulled down around her ankles. Her naked buttocks were completely exposed with her cunt blossoming nakedly between them.
As Scott and Marsha watched, a man, stark naked and powerfully built, his thick turgid cock held in one fist, stepped behind the girl and spread the cheeks of her ass with the fingers of one hand and guided his blunt swollen prick into her throbbing cunt. He sawed in and out slowly and Scott saw the bent-over girl lift her head and gaze at the angel up on the platform with a depraved look in her eyes and a sensual slack smile on her lips.
Scott darted his eyes back to the angel as Marsha squeezed his thick prick and increased her tight stroking rhythm. Scott felt drunk enough and horny enough to admit that if he won, he would fuck that little bitch silly right in front of everyone. He would satisfy himself completely with the wild woman, then toss her off. The thought of dominating the angel and debasing her and humiliating her in front of all those strangers sent a dark pounding excitement coursing through his loins.
What the hell, he thought, it's only once. One time and never even know her name. Why not?
A low rumbling, a fervent muttering went on in the room as a young girl carried a wastebasket up on the platform. The angel, looking away, put one hand in and came out with a slip of paper.
The room was absolutely quiet, and again the gentle rush of the waves could be heard under the cannery. Scott heard the rustle of Marsha's clothing as she sank to her knees. He swayed drunkenly, knowing he would soon feel her hotly wet tongue on his fevered cock. He tore his eyes from the stage and saw that no one was watching him. The girl was still bent over the back of the chair and the man was still brutally and slowly sawing in and out of her cunt, his cock glistening now. The girl's back was still arched as she raised her head and watched Sheila.
The angel, Sheila, coyly handed the devil the winning invitation that would determine her fate.
Mike took the paper and read it. He seemed to read it forever as everyone in the cannery held their breath. His smile was satanic as he looked out and slowly said, "The winner is number twenty-three."
A roar went up and a man, dressed as a king, jumped up. "Me! That's me, me and my friend!"
Another man, dressed as a judge in a black robe and mask, jumped up, grinning evilly. "He's right. We made a deal increasing our chances."
Mike stepped aside with a wave of the arm toward Sheila, indicating to the two men that she was all theirs. "Any number or combination can play. She's all yours provided we can watch."
Hearts seemed to triphammer as one and the temperature in the great cannery seemed to shoot up. Men and women were throwing off their clothing and inhibitions.
Marsha's pulpy tender lips closed around Scott's extended cock and he fell back against the bar in order to keep his balance. His hand hit a bottle and he grabbed it and drank straight from the bottle, gasping at the hot whiskey splashing in his stomach. He was getting a blow job par excellence from Marsha while watching a girl wantonly offering her body up on the platform.
The two men quickly mounted the platform, leaving their dates behind. The old cannery was charged now with a wild orgiastic quality. Clothes and even masks were coming off. Scott Baines leaned back against the makeshift bar as Marsha kneeled in front of him. He looked down and saw his erect cock, wet with her saliva, slipping smoothly in and out of her soft hot mouth.
He looked up at the platform again. The two men were giving the angel rough treatment. Exactly what she deserves, he thought. He watched as they literally tore her flimsy costume from her, revealing her charcoal-black pubic hair. The angel still retained her mask and white wig ... but something jarred at Scott. Those huge, firm, jiggling breasts ... those strong thighs ... those magnificently shaped buttocks ... that slender stomach above ample hips ... it was all familiar.
He had drunk too much and was too excited as Marsha sucked his cock and all around him he saw naked men and women caressing and fucking and sucking. On some couches three and four people writhed together, unmindful of who they caressed or fondled. Up on the stage the two men were naked and they pressed the angel between them ... one behind, pushing his cock up against her rubbery buttocks ... the other in front, roughly fondling her breasts.
The angel's hips writhed and churned as if they were on oiled ball bearings and Scott watched in a sexual delirium as he felt his own violent cum mounting.
He watched as the angel voluntarily sank to her knees between the two men, her hands reaching for their stiffly erect cocks. She was the center of attention now as everyone watched. Even Marsha turned her head slightly and rolled her eyes to see what was going on.
Scott watched as the masked angel licked first one cock, then the next, as the two men stood closer together, pushing their rigid members into her face. The angel began sucking sweetly on the cocks, taking her time, her red bee-stung lips wetly open. The men were beginning to seize her by the wig and roughly fuck in and out of her mouth and the angel greedily sucked away, her hands reaching behind and cupping the cheeks of their tense asses and urging them on.
Scott and Marsha watched with Scott's eyes half closed and his breathing growing deep and rhythmic. He was going to have an orgasm in Marsha's mouth, right there, in public, while watching the most uninhibited thing he had ever seen.
He longed to get a crack at the angel. She was more than a whore or slut, she was possessed ... she was the kind of woman who would do anything and he had a few ideas of what he'd like to do to her ... things he had never done to a woman before. He felt his legs trembling with a wild desire as he watched the two men and the angel growing wilder and more abandoned.
They were really treating her roughly, manhandling her in a gleeful way, and the angel seemed to like it and grow more excited and brazen with the rough treatment. One man knelt on the mattress and then spread his legs and leaned back on his haunches, his big prick glistening with the angel's saliva. Reaching up, he roughly pulled her down, seizing her hard and twisting her around. He forced her down on her knees in front of him and then made her bend over, hurting her, gripping her by the back of the neck with one hand and forcing her head down where her eager mouth greedily sucked at his cock, taking it deeply in her mouth.
He held her firmly by the head. The angel, Sheila, was sprawled on the black mattress, her body standing out in clear definition against the black backdrop. She was sprawled kneeling, her head brutally forced down to suck a penis while her hips and buttocks were thrust up higher than her head, her whole body, her cunt, her fulsome hips and twinned buttocks lewdly displayed to all.
The second man dropped to his knees behind her, his rampant cock held in one hand. He moved up to her buttocks and seized her hips in either hand.
Scott watched, moaning out loud, as his cock swelled near to an orgasm in Marsha's mouth. Marsha, as if by instinct, increased the rhythm of her sucking, driving toward an orgasm. Scott moaned and began pumping his hips in and out of Marsha's tenderly warm mouth as he watched the angel with the two men.
The moment Sheila felt his hard hands gripping her she began undulating, pumping, writhing her hips back and forth and around, spreading her knees, offering up her plump buttocks to the man behind her.
Scott watched, sweating behind his mask, as the thickly bloated cock sank home in the slippery glistening pussy of the angel. He saw how tightly it fit yet how lubricated it was. And he saw how the angel reacted. She went wild, sucking her cheeks hollow as her hips pumped lasciviously, fucking the man behind, who held on for dear life.
Scott watched, seeing a beautiful girl possessed ... he watched, nearly ecstatic, and saw the angel's breasts dancing tightly beneath her body as she sucked and fucked at the men with a hungry insanity. He groaned aloud, his gaze growing frizzy, as he saw other men ... and women ... mounting the black platform. The orgy had reached fever pitch ... anything could happen. Scott was wild with lust as he thought he would cold-bloodedly shoot his cum in Marsha's mouth while watching the wild activity around him and then he would mount the platform.
The scene in front of him was incredible as he saw the angel being wildly fucked from both ends. People were crowding around, caressing her body from all sides wherever they could. People were crowding around and caressing each other and the angel's wig was slipping off....
Panting, Scott caught glimpses of her bobbing head as the white powdered wig slipped off the fell to the mattress and the girl's long black hair tumbled loose.
Scott felt numb, as if he had been hit with a bolt of lightning as he thought he knew who the angel was. His body stiffened and his head shot up as he caught another glimpse of the angel with her mask slipping askew....
SHEILA!
He had to make sure as, with a roar, he pulled himself free from Marsha's lascivious laugh. He heard her hoarse mocking laughter behind him as he charged like a water buffalo toward the platform. He bellowed when naked sweating bodies parted for a minute and he saw the angel's face greedily, eagerly, sucking on a cock.
He went through naked bodies like a bowling ball through tenpins. He crashed with a roar on his wife and the two masked men. He had only one thought in mind-kill!
He grabbed the man who was so wildly fucking his wife in the cunt from behind and tore him loose. Before the man could yell or say a word, before anyone could move, Scott threw a right cross that caught the man on the side of the jaw and knocked him over and out.
Scott wheeled like a demon and was on his wife, Sheila. He grabbed her and whirled her, tearing off her mask. "You rotten bitch!" he bellowed and slapped her hard, her head spinning and her eyes opened wide. They both went down under an avalanche of men rushing to stop Scott. Sheila wiggled free and crawled to one side to watch as Scott bellowed and fought with insane might. It took six men to stop him, to get him wrestled to the ground and held there, panting and sobbing. "I'll get you, you bitch!" he bellowed.
Sheila was up on her feet and it was the real Sheila! She was like a cat, crouched, her features feline. "Bitch, am I?" she snarled, crouching defiantly in front of her husband. "And what are you?" she shrieked in his face.
The cannery was silent, caught in a tension as Scott's sweating chest heaved as the two of them looked at one another.
"What were you and Marsha doing over at the bar?" Sheila was savagely mocking as she went on. "Oh, that was all right. How about all that you've done with Marsha? Is that all right, too?"
Sheila raked her hand through her mane of hair. "I may be a bitch ... I may be a whore ... I may not have any morals at all ... what about yourself?"
The cannery was quiet as Sheila whispered. "If I'm bad ... what are you?"
Marsha's laugh broke the silence. "What are we all?"
It was a signal and laughter broke out. Sheila laughed and looked wantonly at Scott as she accepted the sweeping embrace of a strange man. Scott saw his wife spreading her legs to take his hand cupping her cunt. He saw Sheila's hips wildly pump while her feral, feline gaze was on him.
She was brazen, daring, seeming to say ... are you man enough for me?
Men relaxed their grips as the danger of the moment was caught up in the continuing flood of excitement. The orgy went on, made all the more enticing by the danger. There was the scent of gunpowder and cunt in the air. Scott lay on the mattress, watching his wife above him. Some stranger was sawing his two fingers in and out of her cunt while her hands fondled another man's cock. She looked down at her husband, her mouth open, her tongue licking wetly out.
Scott got to his feet and took off his mask, his face like stone as he looked at his wife. His anger was now cold, furious, restrained ... and ... sexual.
Everyone sensed it. Men stepped away from Sheila and looked at Scott. Everyone was now looking at Scott, including Sheila who stood naked and brazen.
They fought in a silent white heat with Scott easily, almost contemptuously overcoming her. Sheila had to grimace with pain under his bone-breaking grip. He forced her down and she snarled her defiance, eager to prove she was his match ... and more ... in any sexual match.
He forced her down, almost throwing her prone on the mattress and spinning her over on her stomach and pinning her with a powerful grip.
It seemed to dawn on Sheila at the same time it did all the others present just what Scott was going to do. There was no denying his implacable fury or his brutal intention.
He split the cheeks of his wife's full ass wide apart with his hands while his thumb crudely pressed on her puckered anus.
Sheila's face was distorted by the pain and she cried out. But something else was contorting her face: the knowledge of what Scott was going to do!
He was on top of her, his thick arms pinning her down on her stomach, his big cock pressed the full length of her fleshy crevice. She could feel the bottom of his iron-hard cock pressed against her taut and tensed anus. She looked about her with a pleading look, almost defeated, for she knew no one would help her. It was her battle alone to fight and ... as she looked at the faces crowded around ... she knew no one would help her. She thrashed about, knowing her position was hopeless and helpless. Those faces around her ... they were enjoying her predicament!!
Sheila's head was jammed down hard into the mattress as her husband's hand held her by the nape of the neck. She felt the thickly brutal head of his cock pressed against the elastic nether ring of her anus. He had wedged his cock down between her buttocks and was holding it there while he shifted his weight.
She squirmed, trying to close her legs, but Scott had his knees between them and he was slowly, inexorably, forcing her legs wider and wider apart. Sheila fought once more with all her strength but it was to no avail ... Scott was forcing himself into place where he would ram it up her ass.
She gritted her teeth. She had asked for it ... she had defied and taunted him ... she had never really been dominated in the way that she wanted to be dominated. She fought with her hands, trying to reach behind her and scratch and claw with her nails.
-In response, Scott brutally seized her wrists and held them together behind her, causing her to wince from the pain. Wordlessly, someone tossed him a belt and he tied her wrists together hard, causing her circulation to stop in her hands.
People crowded close, naked bodies pressing against one another, touching, caressing, fondling as they watched. Scott was over his wife with a savage look of cold feral fury on his face. Slowly he leaned his weight and pushed down on his wife.
"AAaaaggghhhhhhhhhaaaaaa!!!"
Sheila's scream was muffled in the mattress as the head of his cock pushed and painfully spread her anal canal, stretching it taut and causing her to scream.
"N ... N ... nnnooooOOOO!!!"
She screamed again and begged as the mushroom head plopped lewdly home, caught in her rectum as her elastic ring snapped tight on the shaft.
Even Scott winced at the pain. It was a tight fit. Nevertheless, he was determined to fuck his wife until she knew who was boss. Snarling, he began sawing in and out, thrusting deeper into her rectum with each thrust. Sheila was jerking and screaming with pain. Her face was sweaty and distorted, her eyes desperate. She thought she was going to be ripped apart by her husband, that she was going to pass out from the pain.
An insane sadistic pleasure swept through Scott. He had never felt this way before. A sense of power, of total pleasure pulsed through him. He was going to humiliate his wife and enjoy it ... he was going to take an unholy glee in so debasing her in public. Nothing, nothing, could be more exciting!....
He began fucking her rectum with a wild brutal abandon, pumping in and out, driving deep and feeling her wince and hearing her scream.
Then ... a thing happened ... a thing that was to set the orgy off again ... a thing that allowed wild and wanton behavior to explode everywhere.
Sheila's crying and sobbing was muffled and turning to moans ... moans of delicious delight!! Even as people watched, they saw her giving in, relaxing, her face changing ... changing from a look of torment to one of depraved delight! Her eyes held a look of masochistic pleasure as her buttocks began thrusting up. "F ... F ... FUCK MEEEE!!"
Scott fucked into his wife's asshole with a malicious glee, feeling her tension subside and her agitated hip-pumping begin. He fucked her wildly, his teeth gritted, grunting, "Who's boss??"
Sheila's face twitched, then grinned with pain and pleasure. "Y ... y ... you, gooooooodd! YOU!!"
Scott smiled savagely. He wasn't through with Sheila yet ... he still had something to teach her. He laid his heavy weight full on her and seized her shoulders with his hands, his cock tightly buried in her rectum. With all his might, he pulled her over, over on top of him.
Sheila felt herself being turned and allowed him his way, rolling over so that she lay on top of him, her legs completely spread open, her hungry cunt jutting and exposed. She let out a moan and let her head fall back limply, her eyes half shut in near masochistic ecstasy. The men were upon her ... she was going to be sandwiched and fucked in every possible way. A hot rigid prick forced its way into her mouth ... she was being savagely fucked in the cunt by someone ... hard, hot, heavy cocks were in her hands ... and over all she heard Marsha's hoarse laugh.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Several months later, in Sausalito. Scott and Sheila were still together and much changed. They were living on a houseboat that was lavishly and flamboyantly furnished. Scott had moved his business to San Francisco and was enormously successful. Among his friends, he was known as "the porny broker." He made money for his clients and entertained them in ... other ways.
The parties they threw on their houseboat were the talk of the smart set. Invitations were hard to come by and greatly prized. As one guest was heard to say, "Once you're there ... believe me ... no one walks away."
Mike was very successful, his hard-core pictures playing to capacity houses. He needed someone to tell him what to do with all that money. Scott took over managing his financial affairs completely, making for Mike a small fortune.
Word got around and soon Scott was something more than a broker, being more of a trusted manager than anything. It was remarkable the number of rich people that liked to attend orgies. The bored rich came to Scott and went away richer ... and excited.
Sheila Baines blossomed forth, giving vent to her most voluptuous desires. She became the talk of the town, earning regular mention in the gossip columns. She was seen in all the better places and her gypsy beauty had taken on a brooding, feral quality. She was much desired and chose her partners carefully. It was Sheila who had a hen party aboard the houseboat, a party from which all men were banned. She invited all the beautiful exciting young women she knew and they had a party, an orgy. It was a special party ... it was a birthday party. All men were barred ... all except one ... Scott.
"Happy birthday, honey," she whispered in his ear as he lay in bed surrounded by beautiful naked girls.
Scott rolled his eyes. "It may very well be my last!"
