There are always evangelists for every school of thought, no matter how improbable. Every segment of our population, regardless of race, religion or sex, has beliefs and opinions in common with everyone else, and also additional attitudes and thoughts peculiar to itself.
It is only human that each sector should hold its beliefs to be truths, and to feel, no matter how genuine an attempt is made to be unprejudiced, that the other is wrong. This is natural enough and as long as no oppression takes place, there is no real harm done.
But when such an esoteric attitude is held, and held with injustices, hypocrisy and shortsightedness, there trouble sprouts.
Take Carlo Tatti, for example, whose case is set out in this latest book by Michael Jaegger.
As ordinary, affable fellow, with the same hopes and ambitions as the rest of us, unfortunately somewhat cramped by an unresponsive, and for all practical purposes, frigid wife. He takes a mistress, not such a heinous crime, and things would have gone on as before, with Carlo perhaps much happier, had he not discovered that his wife had also indulged in the same cure, albeit subconsciously.
What happens then? Her husband raises the roof! He may, but she may definitely not!
He holds this same lopsided, blinkers-on view on many things, but as the book progresses and it evolves that what's sauce for the gander may very well be sauce for the goose as well, we feel somewhat hopeful that he will broaden his way of thinking.
And let us look more closely at ourselves, and rectify our tendencies to categorize, giving advantages to the side we particularly and personally favor, instead of injustice.
Chapter One
"For chrissakes, Gina, try and put a little oomph into it! It's not as if you are giving me any overtime!" Carlo Tatti grumbled down at his wife, who lay unmovingly beneath him, her voluptuous body tempting even in its unresponsiveness.
"I might as well be making love to a stone!" he continued to scold, as his tongue traced a snail-like path from the down-soft slope of her stomach. Her complete passivity angered him. She just lay there, showing by her every look that she was repelled by his touches. Why didn't she at least pretend she was enjoying it, for his sake?
Angrily, he forced his knee between his wife's trembling legs, forcing them apart, their defiant strength useless against his anger. Silently, he dropped his lower body down on her and he could feel her tense up as his long, hardening penis lay against the smooth, cream-like skin of her leg. He held his cock there, fighting the desire to just ram it deep inside her. In spite of her lack of response to his lovemaking, he still desired her and the pressure in his balls from the force of his desire was a knifing agony. He couldn't help it if he was so attracted to her that he wanted to make love to her every night. He was a man -- there was nothing abnormal in his desire. But she acted as if the very thought of making love was evil. "No, not tonight!" she'd snapped at him almost every night for a month. No matter what approach he took, tender caresses or brutal force, it was all the same. No! No to everything. And he'd seen her, too, checking her charts and taking her temperature, to see if the "time" was right, and then she'd make an effort to be willing, and loathing himself, he'd make love to her, taking advantage of the opportunity, hating her forced responses, almost hearing her think maybe tonight I'll conceive and she would be able to escape from his demands. The memory of his continual frustration burst like an explosion inside him, and he lunged forward, his fury strengthening his powerful surge.
"Nnnnooooo . . . stop, Carlo stop ..." Gina wailed, her agonized screams reaching the rafters and hanging there for a second before falling in heartrending echoes around them. But her husband was deaf to her pleas and he rode her wildly, clutching her hips in a frenzied grip, thrusting in arid out of her savagely. Gina moaned under her young husband's impassioned screwing and she wriggled her hips desperately as she tried to escape his plunging strokes.
But Carlo's anger was unleashed now and he was oblivious to everything but his own satisfaction. His fingers were like claws in the silky flesh of Gina's hips, and red welts were forming from the tightness of his grasp.
He was on the brink of orgasm, his desire brought to a head by his furious pounding and he began to groan through clenched teeth:
"Fuck back, damn you, fuck back!"
His lewd commands immobilized his terrified young wife completely and she cowered under him, too frightened even to resist any more, fervently wishing for it all to be over so she could escape into the senselessness of sleep.
Then with one final pounding thrust, Carlo's body stiffened and then collapsed in a series of spasmodic shudders as he pumped his scalding sperm in a continuous stream up into her unresponding womb. Then, drained, he slipped from her tension-wracked body and lay back in the darkness of their bedroom.
Gina waited for a moment in silence and then slipped agilely out of the bed and ran lightly into the bathroom. Heaving a sigh of relief, she locked the door. For a moment, she stood there in the dark, her feet cold on the tile, listening. When no sound came from the bedroom, she switched on the light, clenching her eyes from the glare. She caught a glimpse of herself in the fill-length mirror fastened on the back of the door. She saw that her cheeks were flushed, the color contrasting with the pale smoothness of her face. Her glossy dark hair fell in tendrils down around her chin and her gently sloping shoulders gave way to the naked fullness of her breasts. She stared back at herself, almost without recognition, the figure in the mirror reminding her of a Titian nude, of which she had seen quite a few in the Art Gallery.
Abruptly, she tore herself away from her own reflection. It was wrong to admire your own naked body in the mirror, she knew that, even if it was only for a moment. Self-admiration like that led to lewd thoughts, her mother had always instilled into her, and she could quite believe it. She stepped inside the shower stall and began to run the warm water down over her. She began to relax under its tepid spray, the water gliding over her velvety flesh like a waterfall. She lathered industriously with her lavender-scented soap, cleansing her ripe full breasts, soaping her smooth womanly hips, washing away the signs of her lovemaking from her shapely thighs. The water ran in little rivulets down her statuesque body and the black curls of her hair clung to her perfectly oval face.
She wondered if she could possibly be pregnant yet. She'd be so glad -- and relieved -- if she was. Her mother had already begun to hint about it, and was forever examining her with her eyes for any visible sign of thickening. In a way, she'd be sorry to have her figure spoiled through pregnancy, but at least it would stop Carlo from continuously making demands on her. It would also put a stop to all the disgusting wolf whistles she always got. She almost hated to go out anywhere alone. Even with her inbred sense of modesty, she had to admit that she attracted men like flies - all types, all making suggestive remarks, and whistling and even trying to pinch at her in crowds. She was thoroughly disgusted by them, and still had not really gotten used to it, even though the unwanted attention had started early, because she had matured when still quite young. The boys from the neighborhood high school used to be forever staring at her breasts or legs, and that was another reason why she was glad she went to an all-girls school. She couldn't help it if she looked sexy -- that was how her friends told her she looked.
Her voluptuous body, united with her languorous brown eyes and haughty bearing, proclaimed her to be the antithesis of what she was. She was, in fact, strictly brought up, her parents belonging to the old stock who adhered tenaciously to the principle that there were "good" girls and "bad" girls, and their Gina, their only child, was and had to remain, a "good" girl. A good, early marriage and lots of children was the future they envisioned for her, and by their own teaching, heavily reinforced by the doctrine of the religious order at Gina's school, she reached womanhood fully convinced and expectant of the wonderful world of married bliss and motherhood which awaited her. At nineteen, to her parents' joy, she had been swept off her feet by the tall, burly figure of Carlo Tatti, son of a wealthy contractor from their own neighborhood, and he, captivated as much of her madonna-like innocence as by her radiant beauty, married her after a whirlwind courtship. But it was no warm-blooded Mediterranean bride that he took to the conjugal bed just over a year ago. Gina, brainwashed by proponents of a religion which deemed women as "unclean," and disgusted herself from too many experiences of back-seat gropings and lewd words of presumptuous young men, with their ragged breathing and clammy hands, couldn't respond to her new husband's urgent advances, and their wedding night, like most other nights after, ended in distate and disappointment for her and a bitter and hollow satisfaction for him.
Gina had stood motionless for several minutes, the water running cold as her mind slipped lazily over the chain of events in her life. Now she turned off the faucet, and stepping from the soaking stall, began to towel herself briskly.
She was simmering with resentment towards Carlo, who by virtue of his close proximity to her, was signaled out to bear the brunt of her bewilderment and unhappiness. Sex, she mumbled to herself, that's all men think about, sex!
Carlo felt a kind of relief when Gina went into the bathroom. He knew she hadn't wanted to make love, but it had been so long, and even in her coldness, she looked so damned beautiful lying there, he couldn't resist and why the hell should he, he argued to himself. Here he was, twenty-five, in the prime of virility, and his desires and impulses constantly thwarted by his wife, who unfeelingly, and almost callously, refused his attentions, when it was, well, in a way, her duty as a wife to acquiesce to him. He couldn't help feeling that way, sort of let down, and it wasn't as if he hadn't tried, either. But nothing seemed to work on her. All she seemed to want to do was to settle down to being a mother -- a life which would, he was sure, almost exclude him. It was all happening so differently from what he'd expected -- from what he'd been led to expect.
He remembered the first time he had seen her, not even eighteen months ago. She'd been standing in the bakery shop, waiting for the fresh ciambelle which always came in on a Sunday morning. It was a hot June day and she was wearing a white summer dress which fluttered in the air-conditioning, clinging softly to her untanned skin. He smiled at her, but she looked away and even her haughtiness attracted him. She reminded him inexplicably of the loaves of Italian bread which were heaped in tiers in the window. Firm, and not too resilient on the outside, but warm and fresh and yielding, he was sure, on the inside. She had walked past him, her head in the air clutching her bag of pastries, but it was easy enough for him to find out who she was.
Now, he lay back dismally, the memory of the breathless, exciting days of their courtship tormenting him, the mysterious promise of her, which she exuded from every pore, bitterly broken. He thought of their marriage, a litany of frustration, disagreement, unhappiness; was this cold, uncaring woman, so busily scouring herself in the bathroom, really the happy, lazily sensual girl he married? Was it his fault that things had turned out the way they did? Was he just like an animal, as she so often implied, ceaseless in his demands? Was she right after all, and was there something wrong with him?
His mind flicked back over his bachelor days. Days spent at football games, drinking beer, parties, with girls. Almost a different one every week. They were always attracted to him - he could take his pick. And he did. At first, it had been easy enough to be faithful to Gina, and in the glow of love, he believed her protestations of "everything will work out all right . . . give me time." But of late, he had been straining towards freedom, as things were definitely not working out all right.
He was chomping at the bit, as it were, missing suddenly the cheerful laxity of the girls he'd known. Not that he wanted Gina to be like them. He wanted a virgin for a wife, there was no doubt about that! But still, if only she had relaxed after they were married, the way he thought she would.
The girls of his past were just nameless faces now -- girls who fell for his dark good looks and flirtatious charm, who welcomed him eagerly to their beds .. .
His prick gave an interested jerk at the memory of their warm eager bodies, soft with desire, melting against his own in a frenzy of passion One of them stood out among the others, a tall sinewy model-like girl with a shining cap of dark hair from which her sloe-eyes used to gaze at him seductively, robbing him of all his will-power, urging him to leap on her like a tiger on an antelope. Louise! That was her name. Her lithe body, slim and high-breasted had a natural buttock-accentuating sway to it as she walked in his imagination, he could almost smell the jasmine-scent of her pussy. How it used to close in hungrily around his neck as she screwed her pussy hungrily up against his rock-hard cock, the tantalizing graze of her breasts-as she teased his chest with the berry-hard nipples, digging them like spears into his flesh. The scrape of her long nails as they scratched long passionate weals on his back.
Almost unaware of it, he had grasped his own penis, now awake and erect again after his semi-satisfactory lovemaking with his wife, and he could feel the throbbing of it resounding throughout his body. He had forgotten now where he was -- he was back again with Louise and it wasn't his own hand that was encircling his penis squeezing it insanely, it was Louise's velvety mouth, clamped tight around the venously-pulsating circumference, her teeth nibbling at the burgeoning tip, her tongue swirling around the pounding flesh.
He recalled how she used to look -- her eyes screwed shut, her smooth ovalled lips slipping along his almost bursting cock, her flushed cheeks hollowing and filling as she sucked for all she was worth.
Yes! Yes! He remembered now what it felt like to be with a full, sensual woman, to feel appreciated as a full-blooded man, to have his masculine ego bolstered by the sheer desire of a true woman for his prick. He tried to put out of his mind the feelings of inadequacy, and frustration, he always had with Gina, and concentrated on the rising tide of excitement washing over him from Louise's frantic sucking on his cock. He could almost feel the glossy strands of her hair as he tangled his fingers in them, and the warmth of her breath on his loins as she labored to bring him to a climax, and yes! He was cumming now, he was there! His pelvis was crashing down against the bed, his prick leaping up convulsively as Louise drained him of his manhood. But even as he came, through the dim of his satiation, he knew that there was no Louise there - only his own moist empty hands, and his wife, cold, unfeeling, who was now coming out of the bathroom, draped in her prim, don't-touch-me, no-see-through nightdress. With a frustrated grown, he turned over on his side, only his back greeting the cotton-clad figure of his wife.
Chapter Two
Gina finished brushing her hair, then gave herself a final once-over in the mirror. She was going downtown shopping so she had decided to take a little trouble to make herself look well. She wore a blue knit dress which was just right for this early October weather, and had taken up the hem so that it was three inches above her knees. Quite a step for her, she knew, and unfortunately just when the midis were coming in. Her smooth complexion needed no makeup and just a dab of mascara and a touch of almost-natural lipstick, something of a tawny shade, completed the artificial aids she allowed herself. Not that she needed them! Even she had to admit to herself that she was looking better than ever since her marriage to Carlo. She wasn't sure of the reason for this. She imagined that it might be because she loved Carlo, in spite of their problems with love-making, and was happy to be his wife. If only he wasn't so sexually demanding! Her upbringing emphasized the necessity of fulfilling her conjugal duty, however distasteful it might be, and somehow she couldn't reconcile her wish to please her husband with her reluctance to submit to him. She wanted to talk to someone about it. But who? Her mother would almost faint away if Gina mentioned sex to her and her best friend, Susan, wasn't even engaged, so she couldn't talk to her about it. Carlo, too, the few times when she'd blushingly tried to bring up the subject, looked at her with something akin to horror and then had changed the subject abruptly. What could she do? At times, she felt a longing within herself -- a feeling of despondency, which she put down to her wish for a baby, but she knew that wasn't the whole reason. On several occasions, she'd felt a flush of desire, the merest pinpricks of pleasure when Carlo was making love to her. And she'd wanted to open up to him, really give herself to him. But something always held her back. Sex was wrong! She should not, must not enjoy it! And so she had retreated back into herself, leaving a husband at first disbelievingly delirious at having finally awakened her, to lapse into his usual state of moodiness with its accompanying fits of brutality.
She sighed sadly. What was the use? She wasn't able to figure it out and pull herself out of that guilt-ridden cycle which was wrecking their marriage. She felt a slight consolation as she looked around at their house. It was an old, three-story frame house, standing on about a quarter-acre, with trees and flowers in the garden. She really loved it. She loved the dark corners of its many rooms, the towering wood ceilings and fine parquet floors. She particularly liked the third floor, with the funny-shaped rooms, caused by the turrets. It was the solidity of the house that impressed. The suffocating feeling of the row-house in which she'd grown up had made her long for a large spacious home of her own. She had been appalled by the flimsiness of the houses in the new development where Carlo wanted them to live. She was unmoved by the shiny newness of the model kitchen, the expansive picture window, the paneled den. She wanted something with more character, and she was thrilled when they found this old house in Oak Park, a lovely urban suburb of Chicago. Carlo was reluctant at first to buy the house in such an old neighborhood which might "go down", but now he too seemed to like it and was able to drive to work without much trouble, while Gina was able to take the "Ell", just a few blocks away, when she wanted to go down to the Loop.
Gina occupied herself on the short train journey down to the center of town by thinking of the things she was going to buy. First, she'd been promising herself one of those lovely down-filled bedspreads; she liked the plum color, it would go well with the pink walls of their bedroom. Then there was the teak cheese-board she'd been meaning to get, and perhaps she'd get some new napkins as well. She loved table settings more than anything else, and had dozens of different sets in all shades and textures. A set of gold check in linen might be just the thing to go with that new midnight blue tablecloth her mother had given her.
Minutes later, she was walking along Michigan Avenue, enjoying the brisk fall sunshine, trying to ignore all the admiring catcalls she was getting. Idly, she began looking at the window. She never bought many clothes, but still liked to look at them. Her attention was caught by a shorty-nightdress on a model in the window. It was just thigh-high, and it had a drawstring under the bust which pushed the breasts up provocatively. The inner part was flesh-colored and the outer layer was a sheer black nylon. She couldn't take her eyes off it. She had hardly seen anything like it before, let alone thought of buying one. But she wanted to have this one and without a moment's hesitation, she walked into the department store and bought the flimsy garment. As the salesgirl handed her the package, Gina began to doubt. Why had she bought it? What would Carlo say when he saw it? On thinking, she felt sure she'd never wear it, and feeling a trifle embarrassed, hurried out of the shop.
Trying to make up her mind which direction to take, she saw a girl approaching her, not fifty yards away.
Oh no! please don't let it be her! she prayed to herself. But there was no mistaking the rusty-red hair, the huge owlish glasses, the sort of breathless half-walk, half-run. It was Wilma all right, Gina thought with a sinking feeling. Automatically, she turned her back and began staring intently into the window, hoping against hope that the other girl would not recognize her.
Wilma! How long was it since she'd last seen her - four, five years? One of the most popular girls at school - her dominating manner made her a natural leader. Memories came tumbling back to Gina - the pleasure she'd felt when Wilma began to be friends with her ... the eagerness with which, she, Gina, did everything Wilma told her to, except . . . She tried not to think about it, but she couldn't help it, Wilma had made her do it that time when they were alone in Wilma's house. Against her will, Gina's, thoughts ran on, reminding her of things long suppressed, and she had hoped, forgotten. But her memory was relentless. It really hadn't been her fault - she had been in Wilma's power somehow . . . they were only fifteen, after all, relatively innocent, only she knew that what had happened wasn't innocent ... At that time, they both aspired to be women doctors, and spent a lot of time talking about their brilliant futures. They had a game which Wilma devised, which Gina didn't like but went along with, so as not to displease Wilma.
That day they were alone came rushing back with vivid clarity. She was the patient, while Wilma was the doctor. The doctor was examining her, insisting on a full examination, making her, by dint of threats and jeers, take off her clothes . . . the doctor touching her there . . . teasing and stroking her there between her legs until she was powerless to stop it, and then the pleasure that swept over her, pleasure that Wilma had started . ..the helpless guilt . . . the other times Wilma did it to her . . . and forced her, Gina, to do it to Wilma . . .
"Gina! Is that you?" Gina's heart froze at the familiar sound of Wilma's voice, unchanged after five years and apparent maturity.
Gina whirled around, trying to show the surprise and pleasure she did not feel.
"W - Wilma!" was all she managed to stammer.
"It's so good to see you!" Wilma purred, planting a warm kiss on Gina's cheek. "You look wonderful. C'mon, let's go get a drink," she said in a breathless voice, typically Wilma.
Gina- found herself being led into a high-class bar-restaurant, and Wilma propelled her toward a small table.
"What'll you have, Gina? It's my treat!" Wilma said as the waiter hovered over them.
"Just a Coke for me, please," Gina said evenly.
"Oh come on," Wilma wheedled. "Let yourself go, for old times' sake!" But Gina was adamant and they both finally ended up having Cokes. As they waited for the drinks, they scrutinized each other, the way women will who haven't seen each other in a long time.
Gina noted with envy how superb Wilma looked in her brown broad-tail pants with matching vest and pink satin blouse. The unusual color combination complemented her striking hair, which was cut in the new English style -- slightly curly all over and layered down to her chin where it tapered off thinly. Of course, I couldn't wear anything like that, Gina thought, looking longingly at the other girl's smart outfit.
Gina's still as beautiful as ever, Wilma mused. I wonder what her husband's like. Wilma looked a little questioningly at her friend's somewhat ordinary dress, but she felt no malice toward her, only perhaps a little envy that Gina should look so good in so drab a dress.
The drinks arrived and the girls both-began to talk at once. "Remember..." "Did you know ..." As they sipped their Cokes, they talked about their life together at school and people they knew. Their mutual friend, Mary, who went away to be a nun; Miss Moffet, their grim history teacher, who suddenly upped and got married; Janet, the mouse of their group, who became a nurse. Gina began to relax a little as they talked, although she veered the conversation away from themselves and their past relationship. Even when Wilma began to explain why she abruptly changed schools right in the middle of their friendship, Gina hastily changed the subject.
They talked about their present lives. Wilma exclaimed over Gina's rings, and over a photograph of Carlo which Gina had, and Gina, in turn, heard all about the ups and downs of Jackson and Scott, the advertising agency where Wilma worked as a junior copywriter.
"Gee," Wilma said finally, "I have to go, I'm late already! Here, Gina, take my phone number; call me and we'll get together!" Gina took the number, scrawled on a piece of torn beer-mat, feeling sure she'd never call. Their meeting had been pleasant enough after all, but she wasn't sure she wanted to continue the friendship. They walked out into the sunshine, and Wilma, in her inimitable fashion, called good-bye and hurried off to her exciting job, leaving her friend Gina to head towards the nearest housewares department.
Gina sat waiting, her fingers plucking nervously at the arm of the chair, glancing every other minute at the clock, which clearly showed 11:15 p.m. Several times in the last half hour, she had jumped up and run towards the front window, sure that she'd heard the car turning into the driveway. But she'd been mistaken. Carlo had not come home yet! She hadn't heard from him and he was due home at 6:30. Worry alternated with anger in her brain. Perhaps something had happened to him -some terrible accident - she shivered at the thought. But then she reasoned, surely she'd have been notified by now. No! He must be out drinking, perhaps, enjoying himself, without a care for her, sitting at home, worried to death about him. Damn him! she thought angrily, and once more got up to check if he was coming. There was no sign of him.
Gina felt tears of anger pricking at her eyelids. She glanced around the kitchen which she had cleaned from top to bottom when she had come home from meeting Wilma. The Cornish hens she had cooked for dinner were already shriveled and dry. How could he be so thoughtless? He had never done this before -- stayed out so long without telling her. And she had been so full of good resolves when she'd gotten home. Meeting Wilma had made her start thinking. By being reminded of their girlhood affair, she began to take a close look at herself. She hadn't really changed much since she knew Wilma - she was still acting like a young girl, petulant, wanting to have everything her own way, heedless of the simple things that were required to keep a man happy. She supposed she was already beginning to take a step in that direction when she had impulsively bought that provocative nightdress. She cooked a really good dinner for Carlo, and even had some of the red wine he liked so much, and then she planned to seduce him subtly, as well as she was able, and try to give herself wholly to him. She had even put on the new nightgown, amazed at how cunningly sensual it made her look. Her full luscious breasts seemed to be artistically molded inside the diaphanous material, and the fluid fabric clung provocatively to her hips^ She had put on her usual flowery housecoat, meaning to surprise her husband after dinner.
But it looked now as if there'd be no dinner. The table was set attractively for two, and the bottle of Burgundy, which would go so well with the little game birds, sat forlornly in the center of the table, as lonely-looking as herself.
Suddenly, Gina's heart began to pound - this time there was no doubt - he was coming! She heard the car door slam and automatically glanced at the clock. It was 11:30 -- he was five hours late! She felt an impulse to dash out and throw herself into his arms, thankful he was safe, but cold reason triumphed, and she stood there in the kitchen, her face set like a stone.
She was silent as Carlo came in, and without looking at her, threw his jacket on a chair.
"Aaaaaahhhh! Wine!" he said suddenly, reaching for the bottle. "Just what I need."
"Leave that alone!" Gina heard herself commanding imperiously, "It was for dinner." She hadn't meant to make such a petty remark, but her husband's careless gesture of reaching for it without so much as a word of apology made something snap inside her.
As if he hadn't heard her, Carlo grabbed the bottle, and reaching for the corkscrew, uncorked the wine. With an insolent glare in her direction, he raised it to his lips and drank freely from it. When he had drunk about one-fourth of it, he laid the bottle down with a bang, and stood glaring at her. Suddenly she couldn't stand it any longer.
"Carlo, where have you been till now?" she snapped, her eyes flashing. With a shrug, he started to leave the kitchen.
"Answer me!" Gina demanded, losing her temper completely.
"I don't have to answer to you!" Carlo spat contemptuously.
"I nearly went out of my mind with worry ..." she began in a more humble voice.
"Worry!" Carlo scoffed, reaching for the wine again. "You don't give a damn what happens to me! I'm just a nuisance, someone in your way ..."
"Oh Carlo, that's not true!" Gina said contritely.
Carlo put the half-empty bottle of wine on the table. The wine, drunk so rapidly, was beginning to make him feel a little dizzy in spite of his being accustomed to it. He was angry, very angry, at his wife's inquisition, but at the same time, he felt a desire for her, her harridan-like anger giving her an attractive severity. A pout made her full sensuous lower lip stick out truculently, and there was a slight crease of a frown on her brow. She was the epitome of domesticity in her housecoat, yet the sweep of her bare legs, long and shapely, and the thrust of her breasts, curving out from her robe, gave her the air of something other than a housewife. Carlo felt sorry he'd been rude -- he wanted to make up with her now, take' her in his arms, lovingly shower her with little kisses.
"Gina, darling ..." he began, taking a step towards her.
But Gina, her penitence fleeing at the sight of her husband nonchalantly guzzling the dinner wine, which was, to her, the symbol of his thoughtlessness and rudeness of the evening, was in no mood for patching up their quarrel.
"Stay away from me, you drunken brute!" she lashed, taking a step backward.
Her sudden, and to him, undeserved attack, made Carlo see red.
"You bitch!" he snarled, "I'll teach you!" and he lunged forward, reaching out as he did so. Gina cowered back against the wall, her arms embracing herself protectively. She was frightened at the rush of anger she had provoked in her husband, but yet couldn't bring herself to apologize. She knew she was making a mountain out of a molehill, by being upset over the wine, but couldn't he have at least apologized, or explained where he'd been? Surely she was entitled to that much.
She shrank back as she felt her husband's fingers tighten on her arm, and then he was pulling her away from the wall.
"Leave me alone! Leave me alone or I'll ..." she shrieked, struggling in vain against his firm grasp.
With brutal force, he twisted her arm back behind her, immobilizing her, making her gasp with pain. He was in one of his rages now and there was no telling what he'd do!
"Carlo ..." she mumbled, "let's talk sensibly about it..." But his only answer was to shove her hard, making her sprawl in a bruised heap on the floor. The fall caused the belt of her robe to open, loosening it and displaying the glossy fold of her gossamer-like nightgown.
Carlo caught a glimpse of Gina's breasts, the deep cleft peeping up over the top of the garment, the smooth curve of her thighs, ivory-firm, and he felt another stirring of desire. He had never seen Gina look so sexually attractive, the new nightgown emphasizing her voluptuous curves.
Christ. . . he moaned. How I'd like to fuck her, now . . . But memories came burning back ... of how she lay unmovingly beneath him, shrugging off his advances, which were motivated out of love and desire for her body.
Goddamn it! She'd treated him worse than a dog ... he was going to pay her back for that.
With a growl, he yanked at her robe, tearing it from her body. Gina lay there, face down, enveloped in the froth of her new nightdress, hardly daring to breathe. She was painfully aware of her husband's lascivious stares at her near-nude body and wished that she could somehow conceal her nakedness. She turned her head up to look at him and became aware, too, of the bulge which was growing between her husband's legs. She stared at it, fascinated, as if she were expecting the material of her husband's pants to fall away and expose the bulging genitals to her view. And even while she was staring, Carlos' hand reached up and pulled down the zipper and the thick length of his hardening penis leaped into view, the head, bulging and glistening, the length of it, sinewy and throbbing.
"Like it?" he leered down at her, waving its preponderous length up and down over her. She tried to, wanted to look away, but somehow her eyes were magnetically glued on the lewd instrument in front of her and she found herself shivering at the thought of what her husband had in mind. Her sense of decency had been repelled by his disgusting manners and brutal actions and she was abhorred by the idea that he might now try and make love to her forcefully.
Carlo stripped off his clothes until he was standing naked above her and then reaching down, he pinned her head to the floor, his fingers tangled in her hair, and with his other hand, he pulled her hips up towards him into a kneeling position so that she had to balance herself on her elbows, with her buttocks waving lewd and helpless in the air. She tried to struggle, but the tight grip her husband maintained on her hair caused her considerable pain and she had to confine her resistance to heart-felt moans.
"Quit whining, you cold little bitch!" Carlo snapped, "or I'll really give you something to moan about!"
Then he knelt down behind her, and with a flick of his hand, lifted the skirt of her nightdress, tossing it back towards her head, so that it lay in a bunch around her breasts, and her smooth naked buttocks were mercilessly exposed to him.
With painful slowness, Carlo spread apart the cheeks of her white, rounded ass. Gina desperately lurched forward, trying to escape his grasp, but he dug his fingers into her buttocks, his nails scraping the tender flesh, holding her in place.
Gina began to sob softly. It was no use. The only way she could stop him was to scream, hoping the neighbors would hear, but she couldn't do that. Everyone would know then about the troubles she had with her husband, point to them in the street, whisper about them. No! She'd have to submit to his crazed passion. She was absolutely helpless, his to be used as he wished. It was her duty and he was her husband.
Carlo ran his hand up the inside of his wife's thigh, all the way to her vagina. His hand grazed the soft dark curls and he felt his prick give an excited lurch. He wanted to subjugate her now, hurt her and make her suffer for all her coldness, her contempt for his masculinity, and a shiver of excitement coursed through him as he saw for the first time since their marriage, the tight puckered lips of her anus as it nestled teasingly down between the milk-white loaves of her flesh. He sucked in his breath as he saw it clench and contract under his gaze, the dark brown ring puckering tightly. He probed his finger at it experimentally, feeling his wife cringe under his alien touches.
"Spread 'em wider!" he snarled. Gina moaned again. She didn't know what he wanted her to do and she was afraid of what he was going to do. His thumbs pressured her buttocks even further apart and then his tongue snaked down and traced along the soft yielding crevice, and then it was probing at the exposed mouth of the nether ring, darting and teasing at it unmercifully.
"Oooooh God," she groaned helplessly down into the rug as she felt the wetness of her husband's lips circling lewdly around back there.
Then he was rising to his knees behind her and Gina jerked uncontrollably as she felt the hot moist length of his penis press into the full length of her widespread buttal crevice. She could feel the moistness of the tip seeping into her abused bottom and Carlo's pleasure-filled grunts filled her with dread.
"Reach back and stroke my balls!" Carlo hissed. Horror shuddered through Gina at the sound of his lewd command.
"No! No!" she sobbed, his obscene words inciting her defiance.
"Waaaahhhhh ..." she cried piteously as she felt Carlo's nails raking her bottom, leaving searing red welts in their wake. Fearful of more pain, she timidly reached around and delicately grasped the soft dangling sacs in her palms. Revulsion crept over her. He was depraved, making her do this . . . she couldn't, wouldn't give in to him. With a vicious impulse, born of intense fear she squeezed cruelly on the testicles in her hand, pulling at them simultaneously. A savage roar gurgled from her husband's throat, and with an angry surge, he ground the huge head of his engorged prick at the tiny anal opening, contracting defenselessly before his eyes.
"AAAAAGGGHHHHHH..." Gina sobbed, releasing the tortured genitals, all thoughts of rebellion disappearing. A searing pain wracked her whole body. Her rectum felt as if it was on fire, and shooting pains spread to every nerve-ending. Her head, she thought, was about to explode and her knees were achingly bruised from being squashed down into the hard floor.
When she felt the first harsh probing pain of her husband's blood-filled cock against her rectum, realization of his depraved intention dawned on Gina, and although she tried to block out the desperate thought, she knew he was going to try to put his huge penis into her rectum - take her anally. She couldn't stand the pain of it -- it would split her wide apart, ' but worse still, the thought of her husband perpetrating this inhuman, perverted act on her filled her with shame and loathing. In her most secret thoughts, she had never imagined such a thing could ever happen to anyone, let alone herself, yet here was her own husband, doing this bestial thing to her like a savage captive kneeling before him.
His prick was still prodding at her and she clung to a last, dim ray of hope -- perhaps he'd give up his lewd attempt to penetrate her there - it was too hard, almost impossible.
Carlo looked down angrily at his wife's tightly resisting, virginal asshole. Christ, it was tight. But she was not getting off that easily, not after all the humiliation he'd suffered. No sir! She'd get her share now, all right, but good! Grunting, he lurched forward with renewed strength and the straining rectal orifice popped slightly and gave way to the tremendous pressure, and the huge head of his prick was sunk slightly inside her.
"AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH ..." Gina screamed, flailing her buttocks, trying to escape the barbaric invader.
"Oh . . . Carlo, please stop! Oh God, I can't stand it!" she sobbed, but her husband continued to plunge forward, pushing the delicate rubbery membrane before him in his rush.
She was engulfed with pain. Shame nor degradation no longer mattered -- she had to rid herself of this shattering, soul-warping pain, which was building up to a crescendo as he continued to worm forward, inch by tormenting inch on his torturous path to the depths of her bowels.
"Nnnnooooo ..." she sobbed as he gave a final desperate lunge, sinking his rod to the last centimeter in her tightly clenching anus. He held it there, embedded inside her for a moment, and her sensitive rectal passage could feel its pulsing surface throb intensely against the widely stretched walls. Then he began to fuck slowly in and out of her, each sodomizing thrust widening the straining elastic channel and easing his illicit entry.
This'll teach her who's boss, the snobby little bitch . . . Carlo moaned through clenched teeth, happy at the steady whine coming from his wife's parched lips, glad of the pain he was so obviously causing her She'll think twice now before refusing me, he thought viciously as he pumped mercilessly in and out of her wide stretched rectum. He could feel a turmoil in his balls, and his cock felt as if it were inflated to the bursting point. His breath was short and ragged and he knew he couldn't keep it up much longer.
God, Gina thought wildly, when will it be over. . . The pain was stabilized now into one overall ache and try as she might, she couldn't relax her inhumanly expanded rectum. Shame and mortification clouded her brain. How could she ever hold her head up again, after this bestial rape by her own husband' It was so wrong, so depraved. She felt nothing but loathing and revulsion for Carlo, sick with shame at herself for being held in this lewd, perverted position.
She moaned again as she felt her husband's prick fucking faster and faster into her, his pelvis flattening her buttocks with each stroke . . . and then he was groaning:
"Aaahhh . . . I'm . . . cumming! . . . Move . . . your. . . ass! Aaaaahhhhh ..." and he was pumping his hot, cascading sperm deep into her defensively clasping back passage, her thighs swept wide apart as Carlo crushed his pelvis up against her, ejecting the last of his heated semen even deeper into her forever-widened anus. Finally, he slipped down in a disorderly tangle beside her on the floor, and she lay there for a moment, recovering her breath. Then she rose and staggered tearfully into the bathroom, locking the door behind her, her mind a fermenting pit of greater shame' and anger than she'd, ever known before.
Chapter Three
"You're cowards! All of you! That's why you don't want the war -- you're all afraid!" Dan Foster shouted, waving his huge freckled fist at the small band of demonstrators.
"No war! No war!" the young men and girls chanted, punctuating their words with the peace sign boldly proffered at the staring construction workers.
"We did our bit! Now you go and do yours!" shouted a co-worker of Carlo's, a wiry middle-aged man who had served both in the Second World War and in Korea. Some of the demonstrators were carrying placards with the usual peace slogans, and as far as Carlo could see, they all looked like the usual hip-student types who marched.
"Get a haircut and get a job, ya lazy bastards!" Foster yelled again, standing menacingly in front of the marchers, blocking the way.
"Peace, brother, peace!" murmured a tall young man calmly, resplendent in gold-miner whiskers, flowing pants and no shoes.
Carlo gazed at the scene, not too interested. In essence, he had to agree with Foster, the foreman at the site. After all, nobody wanted to kill, but something had to be done to show those Reds over there who's who -- all through history were wars similar to this. The demonstrators all looked a scruffy bunch to him, and he couldn't help feeling they'd do better with haircuts and clean clothes. And somebody had to go and fight -- he himself was in the reserves, committed to devote two weeks a year and one weekend a month to the Army. If he could do it, so could they. And as for working, look at himself, working just as hard as any of the laborers, just for the experience, in spite of his father owning the company!
He was so busy with his thoughts that he wasn't aware of the melee which had started minutes earlier, and now some of the men and demonstrators were engaged in a free-for-all.
To hell with that, he murmured, and turned to walk towards a coffee shop a block away. Turning, he saw one of the demonstrators, a young girl, on the edge of tears, looking upset and clutching her head. People were scuffling around her and no one seemed to notice her, and she looked to Carlo as if she might faint.
Hesitating, he wondered if he should help her. He didn't know what kind of girls these "peace" girls were. Maybe she'd laugh at him, because he was so straight. But she looked so forlorn and obviously in need of assistance that, casting doubt aside, he hurried over to her.
"Are you all right?" he asked somewhat timidly, feeling embarrassed as he noted her suede skirt, fringed vest, and leather boots.
She looked up at him, her large round blue eyes full of bewilderment.
"I -- I think so," she mumbled.
"You look as if you could do with a cup of coffee!" he said, gaining courage from her apprehension.
"B-but I'm on the peace side - we're against you hard-hats!" she said in a low voice.
"Well," Carlo answered smiling, "let's make peace between MS, for a start. I'm not interested in the demonstration, but I am interested in you!" They introduced themselves, and the girl, who gave her name as Lenore, followed him, explaining that a falling placard had grazed her head.
"Carlo," she said timidly, "my apartment is just around the corner. The coffee shop will be filled now, so let's go to my place."
Carlo readily agreed and she lead the way to a very well kept, small, apartment building in a quiet but popular street.
Her apartment was on the third floor, and Carlo had to admit to himself that he was surprised when he saw it. Instead of the Indian print curtains, incense, candles and bells he expected a girl like her to have in her apartment, there were white wicker chairs with a relaxing colorful print covering the cushions, a gleaming wood floor, and large windows adorned with many pots of beautiful plants. She lead him into this comfortable room, leaving him there alone, while she went behind white louvered doors that lead to the kitchen to make the coffee.
Carlo sat, relaxed, enjoying the brightness and order of the room which was a contrast to the somewhat gloomy but also comfortable atmosphere of his own home. A small dog came out, followed by Lenore carrying a tray. The dog had long silver and white hair and a pug-type face, and Carlo, who usually hated small dogs, was impressed by its haughty leonine air.
"What kind of dog is that?" he asked curiously.
"Oh, that's Krisna!" Lenore replied, laying the tray down on a glass and wicker table. "He's a Shih-Tzu, the sacred lion-dog of Tibet."
The coffee was served in thick earthenware mugs, which made Carlo feel relieved, as he found Lenore so unpredictable that he was a little afraid he might have to drink coffee from Spode china and eat finger sandwiches. But the anise cookies she served were great and had an unusual taste which went well with the coffee.
"These mugs are great!" Carlo said enthusiastically, intrigued by the subtle blend of browns, blues, blacks and yellows in the glaze.
"Oh, do you like them?" Lenore said airily, "I made them myself."
Before Carlo could reply, Lenore skipped into the bedroom, mumbling something about wanting to change. He wondered what she was going to change into. He hoped it wouldn't be one of those lounging pajamas which were all the rage now. He didn't like them -- they covered a girl completely, and Lenore had looked so good in her microskirt. He was perplexed -he was used to arranging people into "types" and never saw, or allowed for, any variations. He had Lenore pegged as a typical demonstrator but it was becoming apparent to him that she wasn't and he didn't know what other category to put her in. Still he was interested in her, he had to admit that, and couldn't help wishing that his own wife, Gina, had some of this girl's joie-de-vivre and interest in everything. Gina had no hobbies or abiding interests that he knew of and she had even rejected the idea of taking a small part-time job, just to get out of the house, as they really didn't need the money. But she insisted on staying at home, looking after the house, and while she was certainly an excellent cook and homemaker, he wished she wasn't quite so absorbed in housewifery. He was beginning to feel a bit remorseful after his treatment of her last night. He knew it had been mostly his fault, but she had provoked him, shrieking at him like a fishwife, and if she didn't want him to touch her, why did she wear that sexy night-dress? Of course, there was still no excuse for his cruelty in fucking her from behind the way he did; he hoped she'd forgive him for that, although he knew it would take her a long time to forget. But she had goaded him -- his thoughts were interrupted by Lenore who suddenly appeared in the living-room. His eyes popped in amazement when he saw that she was wearing only a short terry robe. He hadn't expected to find her in such a state of comparative undress but reasoned that it was her apartment and she could wear what she liked. She did look exciting, too, the deep blue of the soft pile setting off her golden skin to perfection and her long blonde hair hanging like a silver cloud around her face.
"Let's have a drink!" she suggested brightly. "I still feel a little shaky." They settled on Bourbon and ginger ale, and she moved to the kitchen, leaving a waft of curiously exotic perfume in her wake. She returned moments later, carrying two glasses. They sat down on the wicker sofa, which was actually only a love seat, with only enough room for two. Even so, it seemed to Carlo that she sat rather close to him, and crossing one of her slim, tanned legs over the other, revealed a view of butter-colored inner thigh, as the robe strained from sitting. She didn't even seem to notice it, as she sipped her drink and idly stroked the little dog, who sat blissfully at her feet. Her fingers were running easily through the silken strands of the animal's hair, and Carlo couldn't help wondering how it would feel to have her fingers slip through his own hair like that. His eyes dropped to her thigh and were glued there. It seemed that with every breath she took, the taut fabric rose higher and higher on her hips and Carlo strained his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the mysterious mound between her legs, which was only barely covered by the robe. He took a deep swallow of his drink, his eyes still glued to the enticing expanse of bare thigh. Was it his imagination or was she actually pressing her thigh against his, and moving it almost imperceptibly in time to her stroking of the dog? His prick spasmed, once, twice, beneath his trousers and he felt a flush of shame as he felt the telltale bulge of his quickening arousal. What was happening to him, getting aroused like this, and he a married man? It must be the unaccustomed drink at this hour of the day. Of course, the young girl's close proximity didn't help a bit, showing her beautifully sculpted thighs like that, sitting so close to him and wearing such exotic perfume. He didn't realize he had drained his glass, until she gently took it from his hand and went to get a refill.
Carlo felt muddled. What had happened to change this young girl, innocent enough in her semi-hip outfit, in whom he had only a token, solicitous interest, into the golden, goddess-like siren she now seemed to be? Or was it all in his imagination, he wondered, was he just getting hot being so close to such a lovely young girl, closer than he'd been to any other female since his marriage?
Lenore carried the filled glasses back to Carlo and handed him one. His eyes were glued on her and she, with deliberate cool, glanced at the front of his pants. Carlo only reddened under her bold gaze, fully aware of the obvious pulsing of his cock, and the protuberant bulge which pushed out the material at his loins. Caught off balance, he took a long swig of his fresh drink and immediately felt a warm lethargy spreading over him. He'd like to stay, but he knew he'd better be getting back to work.
"I guess I'll be getting back to work now," he said, averting his eyes from the curved swelling of her breasts through the terry cloth, which drew him like a magnet. What he'd really like to do, he thought, instead of going back to work, was to reach out and hug her, kiss and embrace her, nothing else, only that, to feel her soft full breasts against his chest, to taste the honey-sweetness of her lips, to feel the firm curve of her ass pliant beneath his hands. . .
"I'd like to thank you for rescuing me, before you go!" Lenore broke in on his thoughts, a peculiarly seductive tone in her voice.
"Oh!" Carlo stammered, embarrassed, "it was nothing ..."
"I'd like to give you something, Carlo," she continued, cocking her head to one side, "What would you like best of all?" Her eyes were half-closed and her lips were slightly parted, and Carlo could see a quickening of her breath as her breasts rose and fell beneath her robe.
What did she mean? If only she knew what he really wanted, to take her, yes, fuck her, right there on the living room floor, fuck her like he hadn't fucked anyone for a long time. His cock leaped into instant rigidity, stretching painfully against his leg, throbbing against the cloth of his pants. He tried, by dint of willpower, to make it dormant again, and to banish the lewd thoughts fermenting in his mind, but his prick remained pulsatingly erect, and his thoughts became so vivid he was sure that Lenore could read his mind. Guiltily, he glanced at her. Her eyes were fixated on the bulge between his legs.
"Why, Carlo," she said in a tone of chiding mockery, "I think I know what you want most of all!"
"I ... I ... well ..." he stuttered, his face crimsoning. She knew -- what would she think of him now?
"You have a hard-on, Carlo, don't you?" her voice was low and husky.
"I didn't mean . . . I'm sorry," he stammered, wishing the ground would swallow him up.
"Let me see it!" her voice was clear and unabashed, and she was looking straight at him.
Carlo's head swirled in disbelief. Did she know what she was saying? She was asking to see his cock! Did she know what might happen, tempting him like that? And the way his balls were aching from the pressure of his seething sperm, he wasn't sure he could hold back, either. She seemed, to his bewildered mind, to exude sex -- animal lust, from every pore of her body, and her somewhat angelic look only added to her sensuality giving her the appearance of a wolf in sheep's clothing. Her lewd request rang in his ears and he could only stare at her, open-mouthed.
"Please, let me see it, Carlo! I know you want to fuck me," she breathed, moving closer to him.
He couldn't believe the lewd words coming from her young lips, and yet, she knew that about him, that he wanted to fuck her, and she didn't seem to mind. Did that mean . . . ?
"Wouldn't you like to fuck me?" she whispered, and he could feel her warm breath on his cheek.
"God, Lenore ..." he moaned. What could he say? Dare he admit it, that he wanted to sink his throbbing cock to the hilt in her sweet young pussy, bite and suck on the nipples that he could see hard and erect against her robe. Dare he admit that to her?
Then suddenly, she reached out and touched the pulsing bulge of his genitals. He almost jumped up in the air from the electrifying touch of her hand on his swollen penis. She began to massage it gently in a hypnotizing rhythm, leaning closer to him until her lips were on his face and she was branding him with searing little kisses. He felt afire from the dual agonizing contact and he tried to pull back from her.
"You want to fuck me, don't you, Carlo, with that big, hard cock of yours?"
"I ... No! No!" he gasped, his breath coming in ragged pants.
She stopped kissing him. Her hand rested lightly on his sensitive prick and she said in a low whisper,
"Oh, Carlo, that's such a pity. Because I wanted you to fuck me, to thank you for helping me today." And she gave a final squeeze on his engorged penis, which sent shudders flashing up and down his back. She was going to stop her stroking of his cock! A faint thud of disappointment sank in his stomach. But he did what was right. He couldn't go through with it! He was married, he couldn't make love to another woman, be unfaithful to Gina, especially after last night and what he did to her. taking her anally. He couldn't, he just couldn't hurt her any more! He averted his eyes, vividly conscious of his still-engorged cock.
"I guess -- I guess you don't like me!" Lenore said, and Carlo could see a forlorn look on her face, out of the corner of his eye the same look she'd had when the placard had hit her.
"It's not that. Really it isn't!" Carlo said earnestly. "It's just that ..."
"I guess I'm not attractive enough for you!" she sniffed miserably.
"Oh Christ, it's not that." Carlo moaned, "You're - you're beautiful! I give anything to ..." he broke off, shaking his head.
"To what? Carlo, to what?" Lenore said, her hand resuming a light stroking on his cock. "You'd give anything to what?"
Why did she keep tormenting him like that, stroking his cock, goading him into telling her what she surely must know, that he wanted to fuck her, more than anything, but that he couldn't do it, he couldn't on account of Gina. He'd have to tell her the truth.
"Lenore, there's something ..."
The words froze in his throat when he saw her. His mouth dropped open, like a gaffed fish and his eyes bulged like those of a pug.
She had opened her robe and she stood there, the garment slipped past her shoulders, and she held it there like a shawl. Her head was thrown back, her long shimmering blonde hair flowing like quicksilver. Her high, creamy breasts jutted out proudly, the color of buttermilk against the blue of her robe, the blush pink nipples taut and erect. Her slim body flared to supple hips, half hidden by the robe and he caught a glimpse of a straw-colored triangle glistening between her long, satiny legs.
"Lenore ..." he croaked, unable to say anything else, soaking in her loveliness, her lewd pose which started the tormenting palpitations again in his cock.
With a slow, deliberate gesture, Lenore released the robe and it fell, discarded, to the floor. She stood there, completely nude, like a golden vision, looking at him through hazy almond-shaped eyes. Slowly, she began to run her well-manicured hands up and down her soft silky flanks, stopping to cup her breasts tenderly for a moment, letting the resilient flesh slide through her fingers like treasured jewels, before dropping to gently touch the golden wisps of her pubic fleece.
Carlo stared, his throat arid, at the complete wantonness of this sensual young girl. He felt his own body gyrating almost unnoticeably in time to her auto-ministrations and he could feel a dampness where premature seminal fluid seeped into the material of his pants. He was hypnotized by this alluring girl-woman. She was the snake charmer, her body playing an inaudible tune, to which he, the snake, unwillingly responded. She had captivated him, all right, as surely as if he was manacled right there in her apartment. She began to moan softly to him as her fingers played among the dampening vaginal curls, spreading and revealing with her fingertips the moist trembling slit of her pussy.
"Do you want to fuck me now, Carlo?" she breathed, exposing the hardened little bud of her clitoris, pulsating above the tender moistness of her furrow, to his lust-crazed gaze. On and on she intoned with her lewd question, not waiting for his reply.
Carlo tried to answer, to shout out: Yes! Yes! I want to fuck you ... Oh God, I have to fuck you . . . He didn't care about Gina now. He wanted this real woman, who knew what a man wanted to make him happy. He was tired of his wife's reticence, her lack of response. He had to have this full-blooded sensual woman who was beckoning to him so lewdly -- he had to have her!
Woodenly, he walked over to her, oblivious to her delighted smile, oblivious to anything but the sweet moistness of her pussy which she had spread so invitingly for him.
"Let me see your cock, Carlo!" she whispered raggedly, and Carlo needed no urging. Like an obedient servant, he whipped off his clothes and his cock sprang joyously free, standing out before him like a tower.
"Oh Carlo!" was all Lenore moaned as she gazed at it, in obvious rapture, and then, tortured beyond belief, Carlo found himself being led into the bedroom. Like an automaton, he found the gay colors of the quilt coming up to meet their bodies and then, with a savage groan, he enveloped the soft, willing body of the eager young girl in his arms, crushing her to him, inhaling the intoxicating femaleness of her. She curved her frame expertly to his and he felt the almost forgotten pleasure of a woman's body melting into his. Gina would never curl up against him like this. Every night, she'd retreat into herself, making him feel as if he were alone in bed. But Gina didn't matter now -- for the moment this erotic young girl was everything.
He smothered her with hot, moist kisses, his hands roaming freely over her shoulders, her breasts, her buttocks. He enclosed first one and then the other full, firm breast in his mouth, marveling at their softness, nipping the hard little buds with his teeth, tweaking them into granite hardness.
Lenore's hand reached down between their locked bodies, searching for the steel-hardness of his penis. He groaned as her fingers seared into his burning member and then he clamped his mouth down on hers and his tongue found hers, greeting it like a long-lost friend. He moved over her, crushed his body down on her nakedness and her hands flew up and down his long, muscular frame, probing and exploring. His cock was resting against her thigh, the tip straining forward to gain entrance to her secret interior, and Lenore, sensing its eagerness, slightly spread her thighs, allowing the heated member to move down between the milky smooth limbs. Carlo looked down at her, almost reverently. Her body felt so alive, so responsive, every pore and nerve ending seemed to scream out acceptance -- acceptance of him, of his cock, of the very pleasure of uniting two bodies. Of all the girls he'd known, there was no one, he was sure, like Lenore. He could tell she knew what sex was all about; she felt the sheer animal pleasure of two people fucking just for the sake of fucking, and she liked it, loved it, just like he did.
He felt the growing moistness of her vaginal split as he moved his cock up and down against the soft hair-lined lips, and she began to grind her pussy up against him, eager to receive him.
"Carlo, darling," she moaned, "please fuck me now, now ..." and then, without warning, her hands were reaching down again, grasping his prick firmly, trying to guide him inside her. A sudden thought, endemic of the male, hit him: she couldn't wait, could she? Well, he'd show her . . .
With a sudden brutal surge, he flexed his hips and drove his thick, rock-hard cock forward, past the soft fleecy hair of her vagina, deep up into the hot, throbbing mouth of her ravenous pussy.
"AAAaaaggghhhhhh ..." she sobbed out beneath him, as the hard fleshy pole raced head long up the moist walls, all the way to the end of her cunt.
"OHHHHHH ..." she sighed as she felt the smack of his balls on the naked flesh of her upturned buttocks. Carlo ground his pelvis into the pliant flesh beneath him, fucking into her with hard, firm strokes. Lenore strained back against him, arching her pelvis up off the bed, her long firm legs raised back and locked tightly now around his driving hips. She kept up a steady mewling under his forceful drives, opening her legs wide to receive him inside her and closing them tightly again and clenching the walls of her cunt as if she wished to trap him inside her eternally. Her mouth hung open and her head was flailing from side to side. She seemed to have abandoned herself completely to her wanton lust and was urging Carlo on, with stabbing kicks of her heels into his pounding buttocks.
"Oooohhhhh . . . it's ... so ... good, soooooo goooodddd . . . now, stick your finger in my ass ... hurt me that way ..."
Carlo, crazed by the frantic fucking he was giving and receiving, reached under her and with his fingertip, probed between the widespread moons of her sensuously squirming buttocks. He searched there until he found the tiny crinkled ring of her anus, already moist from her full-flowing vaginal juices. He pressed his finger forward against the tiny working mouth and the straining sphincter muscle gave way, admitting his digit to the first knuckle. She jumped up convulsively from the slight prick spasmed and shuddered, as it emptied pain, her breasts flattening against his chest. He thrust again, sinking it further in, and she was sobbing up into his open mouth.
"Oooooohhhhh ... it hurts ... it hurts!" But she made no move to release herself from the alien impalement. Instead, she bravely screwed her buttocks back on his finger, embedding it completely and then he began to dual fuck her, timing the pistoning strokes of his laboring penis with the hard stabs of his finger into her rectum, the two rods of flesh teasing against each other through the thin membrane of the twin passages down between her open legs. She was bucking around wildly under him now, reveling in the lewdness of the double skewering she was receiving, her face glazed over with passion.
He himself was demented with desire. He had never known it could be like this, it was so good, better, much better than ever before. He knew he was going to cum soon, he had to, or he'd lose his mind.
He knew that the young girl was near orgasm, too, this teenager who was a total stranger to him a few scant hours ago, who was now thrashing wildly about, face contorted with desire, beneath his slashing penis.
"Oh, Goooooodddddd . . . fuck me harder, harder..." she was chanting feverishly, and then her entire body jackknifed against him and she was sobbing helplessly.
"Aaaaaaaahhhhhh . . . I'm . . . I'm . . . CUUUUMMMMMMIIINNNGGG!" And she was there! Her whole crotch was presented up to him as she crashed about under him, her hips twisting in lewd ecstasy. Her warm cuntal juices gushed out around his cock as her thighs clutched convulsively at his pelvis. He felt a momentary stab of sorrow that he was sharing this total animal abandon, not with his wife, whom he loved, but a young, almost complete stranger! But his wandering thoughts exploded around him, and there was a tremendous crashing in his head, and far, far away, above the din of the wildly squeaking mattress, he could feel a rushing in his balls, like a gigantic waterfall, and then showers of thin white liquid were shooting along the jerking tube of his penis and tumbling deep into the girl's hungrily milking cunt, an endless river of it, which her voracious young pussy swallowed thirstily, right down to the last drop. His cock spent itself deep into her hot sucking vaginal mouth, and finally he rolled off her naked, sweat-glistening body, completely and happily exhausted.
"Oh, Carlo ..." the girl sighed after a moment, "that was too much!"
Carlo felt a surge of pride on hearing her frank praise. He felt possessed of a virility he hadn't known in a long time. His masculine ego felt boosted, and he knew the supreme satisfaction of pleasing and being pleased by a normal sensual woman. One who was without the Victorian hang-ups which plagued his wife. He didn't even feel any guilt or remorse now, on thinking about Gina. He felt too satiated, too complete on having found and enjoyed the pleasures of uninhibited sex.
"Carlo," Lenore began again, a mischievous smile on her face, "I don't think I've thanked you enough yet. After all ... "
"That's okay, honey," Carlo smiled, reaching for her slim, supple body, "you can spend the whole afternoon thanking me ..."
Chapter Four
Nervously, Gina dialed the number. She'd let it ring three times, and then if there were no answer, she'd hang up, and she would not not call him at work. It was just a chance he'd be home from work and
The receiver was lifted on the third ring.
"Hello, Wilma?" Gina said quickly, not trusting herself not to slam down the phone in panic.
"Why Gina, how are you?" Wilma gushed, obviously delighted, and a little surprised to hear Gina. "It's a good thing I didn't go to work today," she went on, "I had a slight cold this morning, but thank goodness, it's almost gone. You don't sound too great yourself."
"I'm all right, but I feel a bit depressed. Things haven't been going too well on the home front lately, and I just felt like talking to someone about it."
"You poor girl!" Wilma clucked sympathetically. "Tell you what, why don't I come right over - the change will do my cold a lot of good and we can talk in peace. Besides, I'm just dying to see your house. Now tell me the exact address, and I'll be right over," she went on, without giving her friend a chance to agree or otherwise. Gina weakly gave Wilma their address and they said good-bye "for the moment."
Replacing the receiver, Gina wondered if she did the right thing, calling Wilma. But she had to talk to someone, and Wilma seemed like the only one who'd understand.
Mechnically, she began to tidy up the place in readiness for her friend's visit. Every few minutes, she had to stop for a moment -- her whole body was stiff and aching. She could hardly move this morning in bed and lay there inert until Carlo had left. Not that she wanted-to see him, much less make breakfast for him, after what he did to her last night. A shudder of horror convulsed her at the memory of the brutal anal rape he had subjected her to. She couldn't understand how he could do such a thing to her, such a lewd, perverted act. He had been so aggressive and surly when he came home last night too, and although she knew she herself had been a bit short-tempered when he wouldn't tell her where he'd been, surely that wasn't sufficient reason for his animalistic attack.
And where had he been, she wondered, as she changed from her robe into jeans and a sweater, that it was such a God Almighty secret. She couldn't believe that he was with another woman. He wouldn't be unfaithful to her, that she was sure of. But what had he been up to, before he came home, and why didn't he just tell her? She'd have understood.
She brushed a tear from her eyes. She'd done her best. She had even determined to change her ways, buying that new nightdress, trying to make herself more attractive to him, intending last night to seduce him in her own way. And that was all the thanks she got for her efforts! She winced from the harsh ache in her back passage, as she sat down, a grim reminder of last night's events. She'd been so confused, at her wits end this morning, torturing herself with worry and doubts, upsetting herself with anger and resentment, that's when she found Wilma's phone number in her purse when she was looking for some gum, she decided almost at once to call her, hoping she was at home and at the same time, afraid she would be. The doorbell rang, and Gina hurried to answer it, glad now beyond doubt that she'd have someone to talk to.
Wilma was surprised when Gina called her. She had sensed the other girl's reluctance to accept her phone number and fully expected her never to contact her. But she did, and Wilma knew that Gina must be really upset over something to overcome her natural reticence and call. She wondered what the problem was. Trouble with her husband, she imagined, although how anyone could hurt or offend such a sweet girl as Gina, she didn't know. She hadn't forgotten Gina in the five years since she last saw her. She thought about contacting her again several times, but somehow, couldn't bring herself to do it. She had a feeling that Gina somehow resented her, because of the way things happened, and of course, being whisked away right in the middle of it all didn't help. She hadn't had a chance to explain to Gina that her mother had caught on to what was happening between herself and Gina, and had insisted on Wilma leaving that particular school and going away to a boarding school in Wisconsin. Shortly after that, her father had been transferred to Madison, Wisconsin, so she didn't even come back to Chicago until last year. But she could explain all that to Gina now, she thought happily, eagerly putting on her new green gypsy dress with matching dangling earrings, the wild outfit matching the exterior caused by the misery of an almost-conquered head cold.
To her own surprise, Gina brightened up as soon as she saw Wilma cheerful and effervescent. Wilma insisted on being shown all over the house, and exclaimed and praised diplomatically something in pr some aspect of every room.
When they completed the tour, Gina suggested coffee.
"Well, I think some Scotch with a little soda would be just the thing for my cold," Wilma suggested.
Gina oblingingly got out the liquor and in response to Wilma's coaxing to join her, decided to go ahead and splurge, why not? she asked herself, it'll make me relax, and God knows, that's what I need!
They sat in the living room, sipping their drinks, idly chatting. Gina when she saw her friend's beautiful outfit, was sorry she didn't dress up a bit more herself. Still Wilma's dress was a bit low-cut for this time of day, but Gina conceded that it was due, more than anything, to the empire-style cut of the dress, which pushed up and emphasized her full firm breasts. The only evidence of Wilma's cold was an occasional sniffle and Gina wished that she herself could look as well, as composed as her friend, when under stress. She had dark rings under her eyes, she knew, and her face had an unnatural pallor to it. But the Scotch was helping her, burning a relaxing numbness down her throat which spread to the rest of her body, giving welcome relief from the grating aches which encompassed her completely.
"You look dreadful, Gina!" Wilma exclaimed honestly. "Let me get you another drink!"
"I feel dreadful, too!" Gina said ruefully.
"Whatever's the matter?" Wilma asked solicitously, measuring a double-Scotch for both of them.
"Oh, it's nothing really, just husband-troubles!" Gina answered.
"Tell me all about it, Gina," Marty suggested, handing her the fresh drink, "maybe I can help you."
Gina felt warmed by Wilma's kindly words, and taking a deep swallow of her drink, began to tell her friend all her troubles -- how Carlo had come home late last night, and had done something "terrible" to her, how they weren't getting along too well sexually and how unhappy she felt in general. Wilma clucked sympathetically and occasionally patted Gina's hand in a tender gesture, as she listened to her friend's sad recitation.
"But tell me," she began when Gina hacl finished, "what was this terrible thing Carlo did to you last night?"
"Oh I can't tell you that!" Gina said quickly, feeling that anything further she might say would be a betrayal of their private married life. Besides, it was just too awful to tell anyone about.
"But honey," Wilma urged, "sometimes it's better to talk about these things - get them out in the open."
Gina thought for a moment, taking another deep swallow. Maybe Wilma was right -- getting it all off her chest would be the best thing.
"He - he ... did it to me ... back there!" she said, unable to use the vernacular description.
Wilma looked puzzled for a moment.
"You mean, made love to you from behind?" she queried.
"No! No!" Gina cried, tears forming in her eyes, reliving the painful memory. "He ... he did it in my . . . other place down there!" She drained her glass on confessing this, shaken by the frankness of what she'd said.
"Oh no!" Wilma cried in a horrified voice. "You poor dear . . . how could he...?"
Gina began to sob freely, her friend's words of sympathy opening the floodgates for her. Wilma tried to soothe her, saying how awful it must have been, and how cruel Carlo was. She hurriedly fixed two more double Scotches and after Gina had taken a few sips, she began to feel better. The drinks were having a tranquilizing effect on her and it was wonderful to have Wihna to talk to. She understood everything so well, and had a way of making one feel completely blameless, a feeling Gina particularly needed at the moment, all the more so because she was not entirely so.
"And where was he all evening?" Wilma inquired curiously.
"That's it, Wilma, I don't know," Gina sniffed, "and he wouldn't tell me!"
"That sounds suspicious!" Wilma annnounced.
"W-what do you mean, Wilma?" her friend asked, staring at her.
"Well, you know, it's none of my business," Wilma hedged, "but he couldn't be entirely innocent, or he'd have explained where he was, wouldn't he?"
"Carlo would never be unfaithful to me, never!" Gina cried.
"All I'm saying is," Wilma pursued, "where there's smoke, there's fire! And especially with all those problems you've been having, with sex and everything. And Carlo's a very attractive man, don't forget!"
Gina stared at her friend in horror. What was she saying? Was she actually intimating that Carlo, her husband, had been unfaithful to her last night? Is that what she meant? But Wilma was her friend, she was supposed to be helping her, not saying such unjust things!
"Now Gina," Wilma began again, seeing her friend's shocked expression. "I'm just trying to help you; you have to face facts, realize that men are like that, and when a husband stays out that late with no explanation, well -- " she left her sentence unfinished, shrugging her shoulders.
Gina's head was swimming. The strong drinks she had just taken were having an effect on her. She couldn't think clearly, couldn't grasp the full impact of what Wilma was saying. She recalled that she herself had a slight suspicion about Carlo, but had dismissed it at once as being almost impossible. But was it?
"And especially," Wilma continued relentlessly, "after what he did to you when lie came home, probably riddled with guilt and taking it out on you. I really don't think there could be any doubt about it ..."
Gina tried to gather her confused thoughts. Carlo had been unusually moody and upset when he came home last night, it was true. If he'd just been out drinking with his buddies, he'd probably have phoned her, or at least told her when he got home. But he had absolutely refused to discuss it with her. Maybe Wilma was right!
"I don't know what to think, Wilma," Gina said confusedly.
"You poor thing!" Wilma soothed, "it must be so hard on you. You don't deserve treatment like that - you merit a lot better than that!"
Gina sat in silence. It was true, she hadn't done anything to deserve such a brutal display as had happened last night. She tried to be a good wife, and well, if she'd failed in some ways, it was because she was young and inexperienced and she'd learn.
"But -- but Carlo just wouldn't be unfaithful to me!" Gina protested again, "he -- he loves me!"
Wilma shook her head sadly. "I don't envy you," she said. "You've got a lot to learn. Believe me, I know about men. I've been around a lot more than you, and take my word for it, they're all the same. They
Suddenly, Gina could stand it no longer. It was just too much for her, what Wilma, her own girl friend, was insinuating. With a strangled sob, she dashed from the living room.
Wilma sat quietly finishing her drink. She felt sorry that her friend was so upset. Poor Gina! She was so innocent. Thank goodness she herself was wise to the tricks of men, and that it hadn't taken her long to learn, either. But Gina actually trusted her husband, put him up on a pedestal, didn't suspect him of philandering at all. It was just as well she, Wilma came over when she did -- at least she'd put Gina on the right track, set her straight about men and their ways.
In the refuge of the bathroom, Gina's fears and doubts were let loose in a series of heartbroken sobs. Her world as she knew it, lay in broken fragments around her. Not only had Carlo done that dreadful, disgusting thing to her last night, but he'd also ... done it to her with his thing that may have been in another woman a short while before . . . No! No! She just couldn't believe it.
But didn't all the evidence point that way? She felt sure now that Wilma was right. At first, she thought that Wilma had been a little quick to jump to conclusions, but now . . . there was no doubt, really. And after all, Wilma was her friend, only trying to help her. But what was she to do now? She loved Carlo, in spite of this and all the indignations he'd heaped on her, and wished she could do something to knit together their ravelling relationship. But she had pride too - and most of what happened was his fault. He was the one who was the cause of it all!
"Honey, are you all right?" It was Wilma, standing solicitiously in the bathroom doorway.
"Oh Wilma," was all Gina could sob and the other girl came quickly forward and wrapped her in a sympathetic embrace, uttering soothing words as she patted her back.
"There, there, it'll be all right. We'll think of something to do ... everything will be okay."
Gina was dazed, her head swirling - she had trusted Carlo, her husband, and now he'd violated their sacrosanct marriage vows -- she was sure he had -- and thus made their whole marital tie seem empty and hollow. And then what he'd done after - the crude act loomed large and painfully vivid again - putting his penis, huge and hard in there - her secret forbidden place, using her like some street whore, actually raping her in their own home!
Fresh tears came, tears of hurt pride and anger. She was angry at him for betraying her, and angry, too, at herself for trusting him so implicitly. Thank God she had Wilma to help her see the light - Wilma would know what she should do!
"W - Wilma, what should I do?", Gina blubbered plaintively.
Wilma's arm circled protectively around her again, giving her affectionate little squeezes.
"You'll think of something," Wilma assured her, "you'll think of some way to pay Carlo back, hurt him like he hurt you!"
"That's right, Gina thought wildly/ want to hurt him, get my revenge on him for what he did to me, show him two can play that game . . .
No! That's not what she meant - she couldn't do what she was sure Carlo had done - make love to someone else. No, that was wrong, and two wrongs don't make a right. Even so, she wasn't even sure she could actually do it, with another man - she wouldn't even enjoy it! No, she'd have to think of something else . . .
Had she imagined it, or did Wilma 's hand squeeze briefly on her breast? It must have been her imagination, and yet, she could feel her nipple stiffening funny-like against her bra, as if it had been touched!
Wilma was still murmuring softly to Gina, stroking her shoulder, patting her hair, and the sobbing girl was leaning gratefully against her. Poor girl, Wilma thought, she needs someone to show some tenderness, some gentleness to her ... Now Gina was sure she hadn't imagined it. Wilma's hand was trailing along her breast, gently rubbing first one and then the other full, pliant mound, the thumbs running against the hardening buds of her nipples. But Gina made no move to remove the other girl's hand. It felt so good, so soothing, somehow, and a curious lethargy had taken hold of her, so much so that she almost felt as though it were not her breasts, but a stranger's, that were being caressed by the attractive red-haired girl. A warning voice tried to penetrate her liquor-induced fog, to tell her that this was wrong, should be stopped, now, but she refused to listen. Wilma was her friend, and was only trying to help her. Not like Carlo, who had been so mean to her . . .
Gina gasped. A shudder ran through her as she felt her girl friend's hand slipping down to her waist, gently opening her jeans, inserting itself teasingly inside the eleatic waistband of her panties. She felt paralyzad - she couldn't do anything to stop the insinuating hand. The cool feminine fingers grazed along the smooth trembling flesh of her stomach, reached down to touch the first softly curling strands of her pubic hair, still lower, until Wilma's middle finger squirmed around parting the hair between her thighs and came into searing contact with Gina's moistly throbbing vaginal slit.
Gina shuddered violently from the dynamic contact of the alien touch on her pussy lips -- electric shocks coursed through her and tiny wisps of forbidden pleasure started to curl around deep inside her.
It must be the drinks and her horrible experience with her husband last night which were making her act like this, submit so limply to Wilma 's unnatural advances.
Again the warning voice told her to stop it, stop it now before it was too late, but her mind almost automatically rejected the warning, and instead conjured up memories, memories from years ago, when Wilma, this same young girl friend, had put her finger there, and stroked so softly between her thigh, and yes, she remembered the tremendous waves of pleasure which had washed over her then, spasms of helpless ecstasy, the like of which she had not experienced since.
Was this going to happen again now? she thought wildly, half hoping, half fearing. She didn't know if she wanted it to happen or not, but there was nothing she could do! She was powerless, defenseless against the other girl's mesmerizing words, hypnotizing touches, just like she had been when she was fifteen . . .
She was leaning against Wilma now, all her strength ebbed from her body. She found herself being guided down, down till she was almost in a lying position on the floor, and then Wilma was fumbling at her jeans again, easing down her panties, and was intoning strange, yet comforting words.
"It's all right, honey," she crooned, "something has to be done to pay Carlo back, pay him back for all the hurt he's given you. Remember how horrible it was, how painful, when he made you bend over, and then rammed his big, lewd penis up into your rectum, how horrible it felt to be used like that, like some street whore, how he made you submit to his animal instincts. All men are like that, all they want is to make women submit to them, so they can plunge their big penises into them, women are just receptacles to be used ..."
She rambled on with her weird, hypnotic intonation, and again Gina felt herself in the other woman's power.
Wilma was right, she thought in her liquor soaked mind, men were like that, using women for their own pleasure, just like Carlo used her for his own pleasure alone.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wilma's head slipping down between her legs. Frozen horror engulfed her as she realized the other girl's intention. No, no! Not like that, that was all wrong, it was sick.
But again, Wilma soothed her.
"Don't worry, honey, I'm not going to hurt you, like Carlo did. I'm going to make you feel good, help you forget what he did to you. I'm a girl, just like you -- I know what you need, not like men, who don't care ..."
"Aaaaaaahhhhhh ..." Gina sucked in her breath suddenly as she felt Wilma's tongue lick teasingly up the full length of her tender pink vagina. Her whole body quivered from the jarring shock of a fleshy tongue on her naked, open pussy, for the first time. She tried to pull away, clench her thighs close together, but Wilma held her firm in a tight grasp, and continued her wanton tonguing. She ran her tongue up and down the moist, trembling slit, probing with the magic tip deeper and deeper into the secret recesses of the other girl's pussy, dabbing at the fleshy outerlips, nibbling playfully at the silken pubic strands lining them.
Gina lay motionless under the illicit tongue fucking she was receiving down between her limply open thighs. A little of her drunken confusion cleared and a pall of shame and guilt set in. She was allowing this girl to do an awful, perverted thing to her, without making an effort to stop her! It was wrong, all wrong, completely contrary to everything she believed in, and to everything that her upbringing and way of life stood for, and yet she allowed It to continue. What was the matter with her? Had she no sense of decency, self respect? She never allowed her own husband to touch her there, let alone kiss her vagina, and now this girl was worming her hard little tongue around and around her blood-filled pussy, lapping eagerly at her vaginal juices, probing at the sensitive, now softly pulsating of her cunt. Gina shrieked again as Wilma, stiffening her tongue, plunged it in deep, far into her helplessly squirming vaginal hole, rotating it far up inside her and it felt good! She couldn't help it, her hips were oscillating in time to the wild sucking, and little eddies of forbidden pleasure came bubbling out all over her. She tried to- fight the rising pleasure, tell-tale signs of her ready acquiescence to this shameful act, but it was no use.
"MMMMrnmrnrnmmrnmm ..." she moaned in abandon as she felt Wilma's tongue worry the little button of her clitoris, holding it between her teeth and probing at it with her tongue.
She was lost, lost! But she didn't care now. Wilma was right, it was better than with a man, much better than with Carlo. Wilma, her friend, didn't hurt her, like Carlo did, she just made her feel good, sooooo goooooddddd . . .
Wilma smiled to herself as she labored over the now trembling body of her friend. She knew she had won -- that Gina had given herself over, irrevocably, to the intense pleasure, which she, Wilma had induced. She felt a wave of affection for the beautiful girl who thrashed about so abandoned beneath her. She, Wilma, would show her things, give her pleasure she had never experienced before. Pleasure that would make her realize that she, Wilma, was better, far better than any man.
Gina kept up a steady whining moan -- she was uncontrollable now, her body whipped up to a frenzy by Wilma's tongue whirling around in the velvet-like interior of her cunt, the wet sluicing sounds reverberating in the small bathroom, mixing with her own sobs of joy in a strange cacaphony.
Gone were all the thoughts now of shame, of feeling that this act was dirty, perverted. How could it be, when it felt so good? Much better than anything Carlo ever did to her, much, much nicer. She'd show Carlo that she didn V need him, she 'd make him see that he couldn't use her like he did last night, and get away with it. . .
She writhed and squirmed beneath the madly licking tongue until she thought she'd go mad from the ecstatic joy in her passion-starved loins. She had never experienced anything like this before --' and she had to have a glorious release soon. Her open cunt was grinding up into Wilma's face, crushing her mouth cruelly against its slippery wetness, flaring open to devour Wilma's pleasure-giving tongue. Billows of pleasure were rising in her and the sparks of her passion were dangerously near igniting and then --
"AAAAGGGGHHHHHH . . . " she sobbed from the very depths of her being. "Oh God ... I'm cu . . . cu . . . CUUUUM MMMMMIIINNNNGGGGG ...!!"
And then she was cumming, like a passion enraged wildwoman, her hips thrashing about insanely, scissoring together, almost pulling Wilma's head from the rest of her body, drawing her into her hungrily clasping pussy with all her might. Hungry flames were engulfing her, and her entire body felt on fire from the force of her release. Tremors raced through her as her inflamed cuntal walls dilated even further, sending out streams of her warm orgasmic juices to cascade down over her girlfriend's wetly glistening face. She continued to moan and flail her exhausted body down against the hard floor, until finally, she sank back at long last, with a deep satiated sigh, releasing Wilma's head from between her still slightly quivering thighs.
Gina lay there, basking in the afterglow of her tremendous release, satiated and content, her mind as yet free from shame and remorse she knew must soon follow. But at the back of her mind, dominating all else was the thought ... Now I've hurt him, betrayed him, paid him back for what he did to me.
Chapter Five
It was a really beautiful day, and Lenore wished she could wear her new midi dress, but she knew that Carlo wouldn't like it. She guessed that he liked women to wear conventional clothes, so she put on a shortish skirt and matching sweater. He had called her just half an hour ago, asking her to meet him in the park at lunchtime. She had a half-day off from work today -- the boutique where she worked was open all day Saturday and so gave her two half-days off a week instead. She had just gotten in when the phone rang, and Carlo had seemed agitated and jumpy, so she was curious as to why he wanted to see her almost right away. In fact, she didn't think she'd ever see him again after yesterday, when he'd seemed a bit shocked because she was so, apparently, "fast." But she was glad he called -- he was very attractive. As she thought about him again, she felt a ripple of desire teeming through her, remembering his big obviously hungry cock, as it fucked into her in long, dramatic strokes, just yesterday afternoon. She often wondered if it was natural to like being fucked as much as she did, but then, Eddy, her fiance, had often assured her on that score. "You're just a complete, full-blooded woman, sensually awake, unfettered by any Victorian prudery" he'd told her many times, and deep down she knew he was right. She was lucky, she knew, to be engaged to a man like Eddy, who appreciated her as she was and understood her needs, but the electronics firm where he worked had sent him away to a training course in Germany for six months, and she was alone. But thank goodness, they'd discussed the matter beforehand, and he had given his full consent to anything she might do to tide her over, as far as sexual activity was concerned, until he came back, on the understanding, of course, that he'd do the same. So for this reason, she was anxious to continue her new friendship with Carlo, as he excited her more than any other man since Eddy. Giving a final brush to her shiny blonde hair, she dashed out of the apartment, her petite appearance and childlike exuberance the epitome of schoolgirl innocence.
Carlo paced up and down underneath the Garibaldi monument. He glanced anxiously around for Lenore, afraid that at the last minute she wouldn't come. To his relief, he caught sight of her hurrying over in the distance. A warm glow came over him as he recognized her trim little figure. God, she was lovely! He remembered how her honey-colored body had molded itself nakedly around him yesterday, how her pussy had wetly glued itself to his pistoning cock, her worldly seductive ways which were so flattering.
"Hi Carlo!" she called gaily, skipping over to him.
"Hello, Lenore," Carlo said in a more subdued tone. His heart had begun to thud painfully - she was so enticingly close to him, he longed to take her in his arms and kiss her until she was breathless, but anyone might see them together.
"Let's take a walk!" Carlo said brusquely, and Lenore linked her arm through his as they strolled along. She sensed his unsettled mood and waited for him to break the silence. Lincoln Park was beautiful in the autumnal sunshine -- leaves had begun to fall, making a yellow, brown and russet carpet for them to walk on, which they shared with the industrious little squirrels who were scurrying around, oblivious to the human occupants of the park.
"There's something I have to tell you, Lenore," Carlo said suddenly, without looking at her. Lenore said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
"I'm married, Lenore!" he said dramatically, "I have a wife and I love her!"
"I knew that already, Carlo!" Lenore smiled.
"You -- you did?" he stammered incredulously. "H-how did you know?"
"An attractive man like you couldn't still be single!"
"Did you realize that yesterday, before we ... ?" Carlo asked quietly.
"Yes, I did," Lenore answered, "and now I suppose you think I'm some sort of a little street slut, seducing a married man?"
"Oh no!" Carlo replied quickly, "I'm just wondering what you must think of me being unfaithful to my wife like that!"
"I don't think there's anything wrong in that," Lenore asserted, "particularly when things aren't going so well at home!" - "How did you know that?" Carlo whirled around to face her, "How do you know so much about me?"
"Relax, honey," Lenore soothed. "I haven't been spying on you. It's pretty obvious, isn't it, that a man's wife isn't giving him what he wants, when he's ready and willing to jump into any young girl's pants who wanders along!" � "Hell, Lenore," Carlo mumbled, "I don't think you're being fair to me. You're not just any girl ..."
"Don't give me that line about me being special. Come on, admit it, you'd have fucked any girl who had shown a flattering interest in you, wouldn't you?"
Carlo was a little taken aback at her blunt assertion. But he had to admit that she was probably right. She was damned good-looking, but he supposed he would have been pleased by the attentions of any personable girl!
"I guess you're right," he finally conceded, "but you know, if it wasn't for Gina being the way she is, I wouldn't be interested in anyone else, and that's no offense to you!"
"What way is Gina?" Lenore asked interestedly.
"Well," he said slowly, "she's really a wonderful wife in many ways -- "
"But not in the way that counts!" Lenore filled in.
"Yes," Carlo agreed, "she's - well, she was brought up in a strict old-fashioned way, if you know what I mean, and now, she's a bit prudish. Damn, she's more than that, almost frigid in fact. And she won't even hear of trying anything new or different."
"Like sucking your cock, or letting you lick her pussy?" Lenore suggested.
"God, no! the thought of it would kill her!" Carlo no longer felt abashed by Lenore's forthright expressions, and even appreciated her hitting the nail so squarely on the head.
"She doesn't know, or want to know, how to satisfy a man, Lenore," he continued. "It's agony making love to her, she's so cold and unresponsive. Sometimes I think she hates me, although she assures me it's just the opposite."
Lenore looked at him with sympathy. Although she found it hard to believe how any woman could be frigid in lovemaking, she knew it was often the case, because, even though she was only eighteen herself, she had slept with enough unhappy husbands in the last few years.
She was even more amazed that any woman could remain unresponsive to a man like Carlo. He was so virile, and he had such a lovely, big hard cock -- his wife was very lucky, if she only knew it. She shivered again as she remembered Carlo's penis, how it stood out erectly against the dark, curling tufts of his pubic hair, the surface long and thick, the head fleshily bulbous. God, here she was getting hot, just thinking about it!
They had walked quite a distance and ' were now near the north end of the park. There weren't many people about but neither Lenore nor Carlo noticed, each was so engrossed in his own thoughts.
Carlo felt a surge of happiness that Lenore had understood his situation so well. He felt so guilty after last night, that he was compelled to confess to her today, all the more so since he hadn't mended his quarrel with Gina, who completely ignored him when he came home yesterday, and he couldn't stand the thought of deceiving the two women. Gina had acted strangely yesterday, too, trying to appear downcast while at the same time, obviously elated about something. It was probably because, he thought bitterly, he wouldn't try and make love to her until they'd made up, and for that reason, he knew, she wasn't in a hurry to become friends with him again.
"Catch me if you can!" Lenore's girlish voice rang out and Carlo, somewhat irritated, looked up to see her running off in the direction of a clump of trees, her hair flowing liquidly in the breeze. Some of his irritation dispersed as he gazed after her elfin-like figure, and with a shrug, he joined in her game. On reaching the small forest, he looked around searchingly, but there was no sign of her.
"Lenore! Lenore! Where are you?" There was no answer. He started looking around for her in earnest, his moodiness returning.
Goddamnit, where is she? he mumbled, / haven't all day to . . .
Then the ground was rising to meet him, and he sprawled on the leaf and twig-lined path, his legs tangled in a large broken-off branch, which he had inadvertently stumbled into.
"For Chrissakes," he swore again, struggling to rise. Then there was the sound of girlish laughter, and looking up, he saw Lenore standing over him, an impish grin on her face.
"You little bitch!" he cried, exasperated, "It was all your fault -- I might have known!"
In a flash, she was on her knees beside him and then her mouth was bruising down on his in a hard, grinding kiss, her lips soft and pliant against his strong rubbery ones. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and was swirling around inside, rubbing itself against his teeth, taunting his own organ, whipping up a froth of their saliva.
God, he 'd never known that an ordinary kiss could be like this. It turned him on -- his penis was beginning to stiffen, and the very nearness of her made his head spin.
Finally, she moved away and Carlo found that all his anger towards her had faded. , She was unique to him -- she combined the attitudes and eagerness of a little child with the wisdom and seductive charm of a fully grown woman. He'd never met anyone like her before and . . .
"Lenore!" he called suddenly, immediately aware of a fumbling at his fly. Then, unbelievably, the zipper was being pulled down and his semi-erect penis was released from his pants to spring up lewdly in the afternoon sun.
"Lenore!" he began again. "What ..." But she took no notice of him. Her fingers were stroking him. playing with his penis, rubbing and rolling its length between her two palms, pulling it, encouraging it to lengthen. God, what was she doing? Didn't she know that anyone could walk by at any minute and see them -- they'd be arrested!
He wanted to jump up, stop this public display immediately, but she was half-leaning on him, and with surprising strength, too. He knew he'd have to struggle to get up - what if someone should hear them and come rushing over? They'd see him, scuffling with a young girl, his penis dangling out like an exhibitionist's, and what would they think? There was nothing, really, that he could do!
Her head dropped slowly towards his hardening cock and then her tongue flicked out, the tip teasing wetly around the burgeoning head. He sucked in his breath from the chilling contact, and tingles sparked along his spine. She brought her head down further and then warmly enclosed all of the rounded head of his cock in her buttersoft mouth. Her lips closed like an elastic clamp around the shaft of it, capturing the fleshy tip completely inside her moist cheeks. He moaned, unable to help himself, as her tongue poked teasingly at the tiny seminal opening at the tip, and then proceeded to swirl the passion-throbbing flesh bathing it in a sea of her warm saliva.
Her hand was massaging the soft resilient skin of his testicles, while the other held, the thick round base of his prick firmly, stroking and pulling gently on it as if she wished to pull it out by the roots. Now her mouth was sliding up and down along the full glistening length of his prick, enclosing it almost to the hilt inside her expertly sucking mouth and sliding it out again until only the tip was still encased in velvety sucking interior. Carlo began to groan in a steady long drawn-out moan, unable to contain himself. His prick felt like it was a foot long and every inch of it was a throbbing mass of sensitivity, every nerve ending a little being unto itself, demanding satiation.. . . and I told him he'd be better off with a hundred General Motors stock at 25 1/4."
"Sure, and the way Hardin and the USDA are going, the Corn Market..."
Carlo froze as the voices wafted over to where he lay in a hedonistic daze. Someone was there! They were being watched! They . . .
But the voices faded away, and Carlo realized that the passersby had not noticed anything. This stretching out under the warm sun, being sucked in broad daylight, in the middle of the park, was all new to him. It was like a completely new act, made more pagan and more exciting because it was so daring.
"Oh Christ, Lenore," he heard himself moaning, "you sure can suck cock!"
As if in smiling answer, she brushed her tongue along the warm, sticky rod, tasting his masculine piquancy, probing among the matted curls at the base, coating the soft, swaying sacs of his testicles with her free-flowing saliva. She loved to suck cocks, even more so when they were big and hard and gifted like Carlo's was. She loved the freedom, too, of doing it at any time or any place, the thrill and fear of possibly being caught or spied on adding to her pleasure.
She continued to manipulate him, to squeeze and jerk his penis with her bobbing mouth and to milk his bloated balls with her hand. His hips were gyrating now and he was offering his prick readily to her. She dipped her head lower still, licking below his balls, probing into the crevice of his buttocks, teasing at his almost hidden sphincter. Then she rose again and sucked it back deep into her working throat.
Carlo felt his prick expand like a balloon inside the strange mouth, it was so big now, he was afraid she would surely choke on it. The hard rubbery head grazed back against her esophagus and she gulped greedily on it, trying to swallow it. Carlo moaned and writhed in time to her rhythmic slurping. At the back of his brain, he heard footsteps, heavy and coming nearer. Then a loud voice rang out: "Christ, look at that!"
Carlo's blood froze in his veins. This is it! They were found. What will Gina say when she hears, not to mention Dad, and the firm . . . oh no!... He was afraid to open his eyes, to see who was coming towards them, to see who had discovered them in their lewd carnal act.
"Wow!" the same loud voice boomed, "I've never seen a dog that big, let's go look . . . And the voices faded away.
Carlo gasped with relief. He had been sure they'd been spotted in their far from private love-nest. But his mind was cleared again of his agony over his narrow escape by the continuing "attentions of the girl laboring over him, her face scarlet from exertion and tiny beads of perspiration standing out on her forehead. He was once more oblivious to everything but the great flurries of heat which were building up deep inside his balls. He moaned over and over again, his pelvis bucking up against her contorted mouth, which was working furiously to bring him to satiation.
Lenore watched him with delight. He'd cum soon now all right, shoot his boiling hot sperm far back into her throat and she'd swallow it all, and gasp for more, she'd suck him until he was completely dry. She had to play that little game on him, lure him behind the trees and then trip him up. She just had to, because thinking about his lovely giant of a cock had made her want to take it between her lips, suck it, taste it, and feel it in her mouth, and she couldn't wait . . . she just couldn't.
Suddenly Carlo gasped. The moment was here! An inhuman gurgle emanated from deep in his chest and then the mad-hot sperm began its headlong dash from the safety of his balls and spewed like a geyser up into Lenore's hungrily sucking mouth.
From way, way off, he heard voices. "... and then he goes to New York, and' sells himself, you know, like a prostitute, only he's a man, and then he meets this ratty little guy who's got pneumonia or some thin'. "
But this time he wasn't worried about the proximity of people, he was flooding the young girl's voraciously sucking mouth with thin jets of hot male liquid which gushed up wildly from his spewing cock. His hands were pressuring roughly at her hair, forcing her mouth even further down on his prick. Her face was almost purple and her cheeks were hollowing and expanding from the effort of keeping abreast of his still squirting penis. Finally he moaned his last, completely empty, while Lenore continued to suck gently on him, hoping to extract one more drop of the delicious, life giving semen from his deflating prick.
She rested her head gently on his stomach regaining her breath, the afternoon sun making her hair glitter like spun gold.
Carlo was in a torpor of fulfillment -- he didn't care who saw them now -- he was completely happy, and no morose thoughts marred his happy daze. He felt at peace with the world, thanks to this young nymph who was again beginning to look longingly at his cock.
Chapter Six
"And don't give me bologna and cheese again -- I'm sick and tired of it!" Carlo grumbled, finishing his cornflakes.
"I don't have anything else -- take it or leave it!" Gina snapped, her conscience twinging at the realization that for the umpteenth consecutive time, she'd given Carlo only cold cereal for breakfast and insubstantial sandwiches for lunch. Still, what did he think she was - his servant? If he wasn't happy with what he was getting it was too bad. She had spoiled him before, but now she had her own life to lead and hadn't any time for fussing over him.
She hurriedly slapped together the slices of cheese and lunchmeat and made two sandwiches. She knew the bread was slightly stale, and Carlo hated stale bread, but she didn't really care -- she just wanted him to go to work.
"Have you washed my other work pants yet?" Carlo demanded.
"No, I haven't, and will you stop bugging me! I'll do them when I can. Here," she said, handing him his unappetizing sandwiches in an old wrinkled paper bag.
Carlo took the lunchbag from her, and without a word, left the house slamming the door. With a sigh of relief, she heard him pull out of the driveway and drive off down the road. She was never more glad to see him go as she was this morning. She just had to call Wilma - she couldn't wait for their lunchtime rendezvous. She saw that it was 8:30 a.m. -- Wilma wouldn't have left for work yet - and she quickly dialed her number, which she knew well by now.
"Hello Wilma?" she breathed into the phone.
"Gina dear! I'm just off to work. Is anything the matter?" Wilma asked.
"No," Gina replied, "I just wanted to tell you that I got it. yesterday."
"You mean you got the Lady-Laxor already? Good girl! Have you used it yet?"
"Not yet! That's what I'm calling about - I don't know how to use it. All the package says is: The vibratory action of your new Lady-Laxor will relax or stimulate you according to your requirements."
"That's all right, I know how it works," Wilma assured her.
"But Wilma, are you sure it's okay -- to use I mean? The guy at the store looked at me kind of funny when I asked for it."
"Sure, it's okay - you'll really enjoy it. I'll tell you what to do over the phone, step by step. It won't matter if I'm a little late for work."
"Okay, Wilma, I'm ready - go ahead!"
"God damn it!" Carlo swore as he pumped furiously at the gas pedal, but it was no use. The battery was dead and he steered the car to a halt by the curb.
"A good thing it happened here and not in the middle of the Expressway," he consoled himself. Locking the doors, he set out to walk the two blocks back home, deciding on the way to phone the mechanic at the garage he always used in Austin.
Hope that frigid bitch is busy, he fumed to himself, another dose of her this morning and I'll be fit to strangle her! Imagine, cornflakes for breakfast again today!
But he had refrained from any overt threats to her -- his guilt over his flourishing affair with Lenore held him back -- he was wronging her and therefore he could not be too critical of her. But he felt he had reason enough over the last few weeks to get really angry at her. Their home life had become intolerable - an endless round of petty bickering which he despised himself for indulging in but yet he seemed unable to control himself. Their domestic routine, too, had suffered, meals were late, irregular, and mainly timesavers from the frozen food department: he had no clean shirts and he even noticed a layer of grime and dust on the furniture. Was she still retaliating on him for that evening when he'd come home stoned and fucked her in the asshole? It seemed ages ago to him, and yet it was possible that she'd built up her resentment since then, getting back at him by neglecting her domestic duties. The only light on his bleak horizon at that moment was Lenore, whom, thankfully, he saw at lunchtime every day and sometimes after work. He didn't know what he'd do if he wasn't seeing her. Not only for the lovemaking, which was as wild and satisfying as ever, but also for the little things -- the meals she cooked, the mending she did on his clothes, and she generally tried to pick up where Gina had so obstinately left off.
His thoughts forged joyfully ahead to their lunch date at her apartment as he walked up the pathway and iet himself in. There was no sign of Gina so he decided to go ahead and call the garage, and hopefully, leave again without even seeing her.
Lifting the extension in the kitchen, he was just about to dial when a female voice broke in:
"The first thing to do is take off your panties!" A puzzled frown creased his brow. It must be a crossed line, he mumbled, and not wishing to intrude on the obviously salacious conversation, even though his interest was naturally aroused, he decided to hang up and try again.
But an answering voice made him continue his illicit listening.
"Okay, what next, Wilma?"
Carlo's heart froze. That voice -- it sounded so familiar! Almost like Gina's -yet, how could it be?
"Now prepare yourself a little honey," the first voice instructed. "Run your finger up and down your vaginal slit to get it nice and moist."
Carlo sucked in his breath. Who was that woman and what the hell was going on?
After a moment of silence, the second voice came on again.
"Mmmmmmm ... oh God, Wilma, this feels good. I can't bear to stop!"
The voice, even in its obvious impassioned state, was unmistakeably his wife's! Carlo listened in sudden anger. What was happening? Who was so lewdly instructing his wife? Confused thoughts tumbled through his horrified brain. Gina must be on the bedroom extension -- should he dash up there and confront her, find her in the act of playing with herself on the explicit instructions of another woman? Or should he try and have the number traced, find out who it was who had such lewd control over his wife?
Again the stranger's voice broke in on his thoughts.
"Make sure you stroke your clit with your fingertip, too, get it nice and hard -- it'll make everything so much better!"
Good God, Carlo thought, his brain reeling. What kind of depraved woman was that and what had Gina done to get herself entangled in her obscene clutches?
A long sigh sounded over the phone, and then:
"Oh God, Wilma, if I don't stop soon, I'll cum right here on the bed ..."
That was Gina talking, and she was almost about to cum! She said it herself, that she was ready to have an orgasm! A sinister shiver tingled along his spine -- the idea of his own dignified wife, stroking and massaging her own vagina, right there in their bedroom and losing that dignified air by fingerfucking herself to the point of orgasm, was so novel, so strange, he almost couldn't believe it! There was something attractively obscene about the thought -- ifr excited him strangely. Should he run up there and fuck her silly before she knew what was happening - God knows, he felt like it! His prick had sprung up to semi-hardness as the crude thought danced around in his head - his own wife, prim
Gina, as pure, he thought, as the driven snow, making herself cum!
"Okay, you're really ready now," he heard Wilma purr. "Plug the Lady-Laxor in now!"
Lady-Laxor? Carlo repeated to himself, What the hell is that? Is it some kind. . .
"All set, Wilma!" Gina said, a quiver discernible in her voice.
"Now flick the 'on' switch and let it hum for a minute!"
Carlo could hear the faint humming over the phone. What was it that his wife had? He wanted to run upstairs and see for himself, but he was afraid he'd miss something. He wanted to catch every word of this lascivious exciting conversation.
"Now," Wilma began again, "guide it towards your pussy, letting it rest gently along the edges of your cunt, making sure it touches your clit!"
There was a moment of silence, and then, "Aaaaagh ... I can't do it! Wilma, it feels so strange! I don't like doing it to myself!"
"Now Gina," Wilma began in a stern authoritarian voice, "do it, the way I told you, and no nonsense!"
Carlo felt himself bridling. Who was that bitch to order his wife around like that, almost forcing an innocent girl into submitting to her depraved ideas. Obviously this woman, whoever she was, had some kind of strange control over his wife, almost hypnotizing her, he imagined, otherwise she, Gina, would never . . .
"OOOooooohhhhh . . . Wilma, it feels so good! I'm holding it between my legs against my pussy and oh God ..."
She liked it! His wife actually liked the effect the lewd instrument was having on her. She was too overcome to even speak. Christ, she must be really digging it!
"Move it back and forth now, honey," Wilma intoned, "up and down the full length of your cunt, in and around your little pussy lips."
Carlo moaned to himself. His own prick had become red-hot from listening to Wilma's obscene cantation and was aching unbearably as it grew along his leg, the swollen flesh burning into his inner thigh. He could just imagine his wife upstairs on the bed, lying on the new puff and her long lithe legs spread open with her dress pushed up over her hips. He imagined how her pussy would look -- the swollen furrow, damp and gleaming, the fleshy hairlined outer lips throbbing from the intense vibrations they were get; ing from the incredible machine. He could picture her tight little cuntal opening pulsating in passion, the crinkled edge; xjink and moist. He could almost see the hard little head of her clit, peeping out like a pink pearl, topped by a shiny forest of dark pubic curls. He tried to imagine how his wife's face must look with its dignity gone and wreathed in passion - slightly flushed, her mouth half open, her full lips blood-filled from excitement, her eyes half-closed, glazed with lust. Christ, he had to do something about his cock! Unzipping his pants to free the tormented member, the picture of his wife abandoned in lust, that he had conjured up, swam before his eyes. He longed to take his prick and ram it into the wide open willing vagina, skewer her to her deepest depths, pound against her as he slammed into her, hear her mewl with pleasure under his onslaught.
"Oh Wilma ..." he heard his wife gasp, "I've never known anything like it ... it's so good ..."
"Keep it up!" Wilma encouraged, "Soon you'll cum like you've never cum before . . . you'll nearly go out of your mind . . . but be sure you keep the Lady-Laxor right there. Don't move it away from your pussy, not even for a second ..."
Carlo had to keep himself from groaning into the phone. He didn't want them to know he was listening in, but his prick was on fire and his balls felt as if they were ready to explode. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the erotic image of his wife fucking her own cunt with the lewd relaxor, but she was everywhere. His mind rang with her impassioned gasps, and his cock was determined to respond as best it could to the other woman's sensual instructions.
"Oh! Oh! ... I can't keep . . . keep it up ... much longer,..." his wife panted into the phone.
"Don't stop! Don't stop!" Wilma urged, her voice rising.
Carlo's own breath was coming sharp and fast -- he couldn't hold himself back either - he was . . .
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHM!" the ear-splitting wail sounded in the phone. ''I'm cumming, Wilma, Oh Willmmmaaaaa ..."
His wife was actually cumming -- her orgasm induced by that lewd instrument! Was that frenzied voice really hers'} God, was she really . . .
But his thoughts were lost in the eruption of his own pent-up passion and his head swam as his cock jerked and tossed in his hand and he tried desperately to choke back the moans.
He could still hear Gina sobbing out the last of her climax as he leaned back against the wall, the phone cradled limply against his ear.
Chapter Seven
"Follow that cab!" Carlo barked at the astounded cabdriver, his eyes riveted on the other cab which was just disappearing around a corner.
"Now look here, buddy--" the driver began.
"Please, cabbie, it's very important -- I don't want to lose sight of that other taxi!" Carlo pleaded, pushing a five dollar bill into the cabbie's hand.
"Okay, whatever you say, mister!" he finally agreed, and drove off quickly in the direction the other taxi had taken.
"Hey," the driver began again, "this isn't one of those underground movies is it, or maybe Candid Camera by any chance?"
"No, it isn't!" Carlo said coldly, "and please drive faster."
"Well, it's just like in the movies," the cabbie mumbled to himself, "follow that cab, hhmmmmm ..."
Carlo sat in furious silence. Wave after wave of bitter anger swept over him. The goddamn bitch, the fucking little slut, playing around on him like that. The fucking machine wasn't even enough for her, the bitch.
His blood boiled as he remembered Wilma's heated words which he heard while eavesdropping on the extension right after he and his wife had cum simultaneously, but not together!
"God, Gina," she had breathed hoarsely, "I'm so excited I can't go to work. You have to come over here right away or I'll die. Grab a taxi and I'll phone in sick."
"Okay, Wilma, I'll be right over," his cheating bitch of a wife had promised and she had immediately left the house and walked two blocks to the taxi rank. Well, he'd follow her and find out what she was up to, and then heaven help her and that slut of a friend of hers, too. No wonder nothing ever got done anymore -- his wife was too busy traipsing around with her lesbian lover to even cook him a decent meal!
The cab stopped and Carlo glanced out.
The other cab was just pulling off, empty of its passenger. Carlo exclaimed aloud when he got out of the cab. Oh my God, this was Lenore's building! The one he'd spent many an hour in, and his wife had gone in there! Did she know Lenore? Had she somehow found out what was going on. between him and Lenore?
His anger and worry rising to fever pitch, he stalked into the building. He saw the elevator stop at Three -- Lenore's floor. Maybe she was going to see Lenore -- maybe both of them and the mysterious Wilma were all three embroiled in some lewd threesome! The crude thought made him snarl with anger, and he took the elevator up to the top floor, the Fourth. Not caring who saw him, he strode out onto the roof. Looking out over the city, a feeling of power enveloped him. He'd teach those fucking bitches to mess around with his wife, and as for her, the goddamned" little whore . . .
He saw a fire escape leading down three flights. He swung himself over the edge and began to descend step by precarious step on the narrow ladder. Then he was on the third floor, and found himself on a little platform, an iron work table and several pot plants. Taking care not to make any noise, he peered in the window. It was a kitchen, and it was silent and empty. Edging his way towards the left, he managed to look in the next window. He could see that it was a bedroom, and there was a huge king-sized bed in the center of -the room, with a wild kaleidoscopic bedspread over it, the electric blues, pinks and greens reflected eerily on the aluminum mylar ceiling. One wall was also covered in the shiny mylar and the vibrant colors from the bed danced and played around the whole room, giving it a weird strobic effect. He began to think he had the wrong apartment and was about to move to the next little platform when he heard the door opening. Screwing up his eyes, he could see two figures walking in the bedroom. The whole atmosphere of the room was one of shiny dimness, and he couldn't make out the figures clearly, but he did see that one of them sprawled on the bed while the other flicked a switch. Then there was a shimmering light in the room and Carlo's body turned cold, and a viscid sweat started up on his chest and back. It was his wife, Gina, who was walking so boldly over to where an attractive redhead, her creamy skin beautifully clear, and her trim slender figure perfectly proportioned, lay sprawled wantonly on the bed. They were both completely nude. So this was the bitch, Wilma, who had seduced his wife, forced her, a hitherto innocent girl, to do God knows what? The fucking slut, he felt like dashing in there and tearing her limb from limb even though she was a girl. Who did she think she was?
His vengeful thoughts were cut short as he watched, his eyes popping, the scene which was unfolding. He couldn't believe it - he was seeing things, he had to be ... Gina, his innocent babe-in-arms wife, was hoving over the nude figure of the other girl and now her head was moving down and her tongue was snaking out to lap eagerly at Wilma's milk white breasts which were pointing up eagerly, the nipples blush pink, the tips hard little points. He couldn 't believe it! Not his Gina . . . but the evidence was there! Up to this, he had vacillated between putting all the blame on Wilma for having some stranglehold over his wife, thus making her do these lewd things, and blaming her, Gina, almost entirely for her own wantonness. But now, what he was witnessing was undeniably incriminating! Her tongue was trailing down over Wilma's lithe but curvaceous form, stopping just short of the russet pubic triangle which gleamed like burnished copper at the junction of her firm white thighs.
He didn't want to look at any more. He was disgusted, sick - but he had to keep watching, had to know . . .
He sucked in his breath sharply as he saw his wife lower her ebony-crowned head still more and then her tongue flicked out and dabbed at Wilma's widespread pussy. A moan escaped Wilma's lips as Gina's tongue continued to lick like a hungry cat at a bowl of milk at her glistening furrow, dabbing teasingly at the secret nooks and crannies, tasting hungrily her flowing feminine juices.
She likes doing it! The fucking slut of a bitch likes it with another woman! was all Carlo could think as he stared in the window. He didn't care that he was spying on them, that he had listened in on their private conversation, that he himself had strayed from the connubial path. All he could think of was that Gina, his wife, had betrayed him, cheated on him, soiled herself by participating in such illicit lovemaking. His mind was reeling and he had to hold on to the fire escape wall to stop himself from falling. But still he couldn't tear himself away from the lewd scene. His eyes bulged as he watched his wife's feverish tongue sluice thirstily in and out of the redhead's widespread vagina. And as he watched Wilma's legs suddenly jackknifed up, exposing the full nakedness of her trembling cunt, allowing the rampaging tongue greater access to her throbbing loins. Carlo could see the blood-engorged outer lips, thinly fringed with fine reddish pussy hairs, pulsing intently and he could see the ruby tip of her excited clitoris quavering under the pink rimmed folds. Wilma was mewling loudly, a wild staccato cry and her hips were threshing up against Wilma's probing tongue. Wilma herself wore a look of utter bliss as she grovelled her face in between her friend's open thighs -- her eyes were closed and her own nipples had hardened to blazing spears, and Carlo could see a quiver convulse up and down her inner thigh.
The goddamned bitch! he swore again and again. All the time he thought she was angry at him for fucking her in the anus, when in fact she'd turned her attention to another lover, and a girl at that! He had thought she was just an innocent young girl, and he'd used up all his patience and energy trying to break down the barriers she had erected against sex. But nothing had ever worked. She'd been completely cold and impassive to him and had absolutely refused to try anything new -anything that might possibly melt the ice that encased her body. And now -- this! She was sucking like crazy on some broad's cunt, sucking like she would never stop. Well, by God, he'd had enough -- he was going to go right in there, catch them in the middle of their perverted act, and maybe break their necks as well!
He edged back towards the kitchen window which was slightly ajar. Yes, by Christ, they were both going to pay for -
"Carlo! Carlo, what are you doing out there?"
Carlo turned around, his eyes agog. It was Lenore, leaning out of her window, right next door.
Goddamnit, he cursed to himself. Why did she have to stick her nose into it!
"Come in here throgh this window!" she called, pointing to hers, and Carlo thought angrily, the whole goddamn apartment building will be looking out next!
The one thing he didn't want was for Wilma and his wife to see him first, spying on them. That would ruin everything, especially the surprise he had planned for them.
Mumbling angrily to himself, he crossed over from Wilma's fire escape balcony to Lenore's and stepped into her kitchen.
"I was so surprised when I saw you--" she began.
But Carlo, his mind aflame with self-righteous anger over the scene he had just witnessed, brushed right past her, and without a word, let himself out of the apartment!
Lenore stood staring at the closed door. Now what the heck was that all about? she wondered. She had just come home for lunch and had been distracted by Krisna, her little dog, who kept looking out the kitchen window and barking. On investigating, she saw, to her great surprise, Carlo hovering out over the railing. What was he doing? Was he looking for her, or what? They had a set date for lunch at her apartment every day, but when he hadn't called her this morning, which he usually did, she figured he wouldn't make it. Besides, he had a key -- why didn't he just go in the door, if he was waiting for her? Maybe Wilma was at home, she mused, eating her tuna sandwich, perhaps she'd know what was going on!
Finishing her lunch, she left her apartment a half an hour later and rapped lightly on Wilma's door, and Wilma answered after a short delay.
"Wilma, something funny is going on!" she blurted immediately.
They both went inside to where Wilma was eating a solitary lunch, accompanied by Martinis.
Lenore gratefully accepted a drink, and they sat discussing the unusual happening.
"You know Carlo, this married guy I've been telling you about, the one I'm seeing? Well, he was out on your fire escape a few minutes ago, spying into your apartment. Was he spying on you?" Lenore asked, full of curiosity.
Wilma toyed with her glass. She hadn't told Lenore about her affair with Gina and she instantly deduced just who it was who had been on the fire-escape. But she didn't want Lenore to know anything yet.
"I've no idea, Lenore!" Wilma replied, "I have only just started lunch, and didn't hear or see anyone."
Lenore was non-plused. What was going on? Was Carlo having an affair with Wilma also -- was that why he was on her fire escape, just leaving when they heard her return? The possibility seemed likely enough -- Wilma was secretive at times and even though she knew Wilma had a penchant for girls, she had plenty of men lovers as well. Yes, perhaps her suspicions were right! Carlo could easily --
Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. Who could that be? Lenore wondered. Wilma's heart began a painful thud-thud. She had a suspicion that it would be either Gina or Carlo, and she didn't really want to see either of them right now.
Again, the loud insistent knock and intrepidly, Wilnia walked over and opened the door.
It was Carlo, his face glowering and an angry scowl on his face.
"I've got something to say to you, you da--" he began furiously, glaring at Wilma who cringed against the door jamb.
"Carlo, darling, I was so worried about you, you left so suddenly without a word!" It was Lenore, running over to him, oblivious of the near confrontation between the husband and his wife's lover.
Carlo gaped in amazement as he saw his own mistress running towards him. How is she involved in all this? he wondered again. Lenore's arms were around him now and she was clinging to-him as tenaciously as if she hadn't seen him for two weeks. He was thrown off by seeing Lenore there, and before he had a chance to think, he found himself being ushered into the apartment into which he had so recently been peering. Lenore led him over to the plush pile-covered sofa and then he was sitting down, still confused. Wilma silently handed him a Martini, which was very welcome at that moment. He gulped it down, hoping it would steady him. Wilma obligingly poured him another, and he accepted it, still glowering at her. Lenore sat close by him, and as usual her presence began to have a soothing effect on him. Maybe he'd been a little too quick to attack Wilma he thought -- after all, his wife didn't seem to be exactly unwilling! It took two to tango, he knew, and perhaps he'd better wait until he had both of them together before he confronted them. Besides, Wilma didn't seem too bad a person and from what he remembered of her body, he thought salaciously, that was more than all right!
"-and it seems like I may be promoted to senior copywriter soon," he heard Wilma saying. The Martinis had steadied him, smoothed over his anger momentarily, and he was able to listen rationally to their conversation.
"But Wilma," Lenore asked, "do you want to become one of the legion who brainwash people into buying things they don't need?"
"Consumerism and materialism is here to stay -- I might as well cash in on it, and besides, look how the Gross National Product has increased and is increasing each year. You have the ad agencies to thank for that!"
"But we all know that the G.N.P. means nothing," Carlo heard himself saying. "It doesn't reflect accurately the state of the country -- only comparatively useless products like detergents, automobiles, etc. are reflected in it. No money, or very little, is spent on housing for the poor and the like, so we have a huge, impressive Gross National Product but the poor are still hungry and cold!"
"Yes, I suppose you're right," Wilma agreed. She was relieved that Carlo's temper had cooled and she was anxious to prolong his mood. And she had to admit to herself that he was handsome, much more so than she had thought. Lucky Gina . . .
"Everything that money can be made out of is exploited -- the Government probably even makes money on the drugs they are so busy condemning!" Wilma added.
"Yes," Carlo agreed, excited by the stimulating conversation. "Look at that write-up in Time about Women's Lib -- after that, it will lose any vestige of rationality that it ever had, if it did have any, that is ..."
"How can you say that. Carlo?" Lenore said huffily. "I think it's absolutely fabulous that the Movement is getting all this publicity -- it will make the average woman aware of her rightful place in the world!"
"If she's not aware of her so-called rightful place, perhaps she's happy enough where she is!" Carlo laughed.
"I was so surprised when I saw you ..." she began.
"I see we have a real Feminist here!" Carlo laughed again, "a phrase right out of Women's Lib's lexicon!"
Lenore grew red under her lover's mockery of her beliefs. "Women deserve equality," she defended, "in work, in pay, in sexual freedom! Don't you agree, Wilma?"
"I do indeed, Lenore. Look at Sweden, where equality between the sexes and free , love without stigma has been practiced for years - the most modern and advanced country in the world!"
"Like hell it is!" Carlo exploded. "Why, they have the highest suicide rate in the world -- that's where free love from the age of thirteen gets you!"
"Calm down, Carlo!" Wilma soothed, "Sweden has, supposedly the highest reported rate of suicide, and that's only because of their extreme efficiency in keeping track of everything that goes on. Think of the incredible number of suicides which must go unnoticed and unreported here! If thousands of people can be missed, forgotten in the Census, how accurate can the suicide figures be?"
"Well, that may be," Carlo said, ashamed of his outburst, "but nevertheless, a country where kids can go around screwing each other at thirteen and where you can buy contraceptives like chewing gum, can hardly be called advanced. Corrupt is more like it!"
"Aha!" Wilma said. "We have a real old-fashioned man here. Daddy can run around and play all he likes, but Mommy must stay at home and do the housework! Right?"
"I do think woman's place is in the home and I don't think any decent married woman should go around with other men. It's just not right!" Carlo knew his beliefs must sound old-fashioned, not to mention hypocritical, in view of his own liaison, but nevertheless, he wouldn't have cheated on Gina if she hadn't been so damn cold and unresponsive!
"Let's show him what modern gals are made of!" Lenore quipped, and the two girls leaped on him and began to tickle him unmercifully. They pulled off his clothes with glee, until he was nude, squirming helplessly beneath their ruthless tickling.
"Ha-ha-ha! Please leave . . . ha-ha ... me alone . . . ha-ha-ha-ha-ha ..." he finally managed to gasp and, jumping up, he broke away from the two young feminists, and dashed into the bedroom. Lenore and Wilma followed him, and the three of them landed in a jumble of arms and legs on the colorful counterpane. The girls began to rip off their clothes until they, too, were completely naked. All three wrestled playfully for a few minutes, and then they all lay back panting for breath. After a moment, Carlo felt a chilling sensation on his prick. It felt like tiny little bugs were creeping along its surface, teasing the skin, and then he felt his balls being massaged, gently at first, then more urgently. Raising his head slightly, he saw Wilma lovingly bending over his prick, goading it into erection, and she was succeeding! It began to tower up from the base of his stomach like a mighty pole, the head blood-engorged and the stamen thick and pulsating. Shivers tingled up and down his spine from the arousing tickle and he closed his eyes in abandoned ecstasy. But then it stopped as suddenly as it had begun and he felt a pang of disappointment.
There was a rustling noise, and he felt a weight on his loins. Hands were grasping his cock again and suddenly he felt cool, moist flesh against the hard rubbery head. Raising his head once more, he was just in time to see Wilma settle herself in a squatting position over his jutting cock. With one hand to steady his prick, she spread apart the thin, fluted lips of her pussy with the other and then.poised herself directly over the hardened rod of flesh. With torturous slowness, she began to lower herself down on his shaft and he could feel the smooth walls of her cunt closing wetly in on his prick. Finally, with an oomph she hit bottom -- his penis was embedded far up inside her and the russet-fringed edges of her vagina were resting directly on his own loins. Her creamy breasts, round and firm, stood out erectly like twin ruby-crested orbs and there was a look of satisfaction on her face. She began to move up and down on his now-lubricated prick -- first just a little but then she rose all the way up, until his prick was almost free again, before she eased back down enclosing the full length of his cock far up inside her again.
New thrills raced through Carlo's body from the novelty of the position. She was fucking him -- his wife's lover was screwing him, this beautiful redhead whom he had intended to castigate so severely for leading Gina astray! The lewd thought of his screwing his wife's girlfriend added fuel to the already raging fire inside him and he moaned passionately under her writhing body. Her hand reached down and grabbed his balls, kneading and pumping them and he thought that they would erupt right there in her hand. He knew he was ready to climax soon -- the buffeting this red-haired girl was giving his enflamed prick was driving him crazy. His eyes were clenched tight and his head was spinning, and then suddenly, he felt a warmth and moistness over him and his breath was momentarily cut off. A weight was flattening his face and for a moment he thought it was all part of the pre-orgasmic swoon he was experiencing. His eyes flew open then and he saw that it was Lenore, and she was sitting on his face, her cunt flowering teasingly open over his mouth! After a confused moment, he darted out with his tongue and tasted the pungent flavor of her familiar pussy. She moaned from the searing contact and he continued to lick at her proffered naked flesh, sucking up her free-flowing juices, ramming his tongue up into the clasping cuntal hole, scouring it around the secret recesses of her womanhood. Lenore was mewling incessantly, her pelvis rotating around on Carlo's working mouth, her toast-colored breasts bobbing. Carlo's face felt warm and moist from his own breath returning back on him from Lenore's heated pussy and his whole body was wracked with unbelievable sensations of pleasure. His thoughts danced lewdly up and down in his whirling brain -- he was being fucked by his wife's attractive red-haired girl-lover, while he was licking his own blonde girlfriend's cunt!
The idea of their lascivious three-way fuck excited him beyond belief and he labored with greater energy, sucking voraciously on the exotic-scented pussy which was rimming his nose and mouth, while at the same time, he pounded his pelvis up against Wilma, who was bobbing up and down frenziedly. Her hands were digging into his sides as she rode him like a circus bareback rider, their bodies crashing and slapping together wetly. Lenore's pussy was a crazed entity now - sucking and pulling fiercely on his tongue -- trying to pull it out by the roots, her hands clutching wildly at his hair.
His body shuddered and spasmed under the dual titillation and he could feel a euphoria creeping over him. He could go on like this forever, licking and kissing Lenore's cunt while Wilma ground her own warm wet pussy maddeningly up and down on his cock. His head began to spin, slowly at first but then faster and faster. From far - away, he heard an inhuman gurgle -- his own -- as he mewled uncontrollably up into Lenore's hungrily sucking cunt and then his hips were flailing like a dervish and his whole body was pounding against the bed. And he was shooting thick hot streams of sticky seminal fluid deep up into the redhead's pussy, jet after jet of it which returned in a shower to flood back down on his own cock. While at the same time, he heard the two girls shriek and sob out their own orgasms. They were all cumming together! He, his wife's female lover, and his own young girlfriend were all lewdly abandoned in a frenzied dance toward release, all their sexual orifices wet and dripping from their passion-juices, and finally all three were still, rapt in their own satiated torpor yet still wrapped nakedly together in a lewd tabloid of interlocked arms, legs, and breasts . . .
Chapter Eight
Gina let herself into Wilma's apartment, sick with worry. Why hadn't Wilma called, like she said she would, and why was the phone off the hook all afternoon?
She'd been trying to call, ever since she'd got home from their midday rendezvous, but she hadn't been able to get through! Had something serious happened to Wiima? Gina shuddered at the thought.
As she stood in the hallway, the sound of girlish giggling reached her ears. It seemed to be coming from the bedroom. Puzzled, she hurried over.
There was another twitter, and then a long anguished sigh.
"AAARRRRHHHHH ... I'm ... going ... to... to.. CCUUUMMMM!!" Gina froze with horror on hearing the lascivious words. It was a woman's voice and she knew without a doubt that it was
Wilma who was screaming out her orgasm. Who was in there with her? And who else was groaning their passion with her? Should she go in there and see, or should she leave quietly? A hundred questions tore her dazed brain asunder. But she knew she had to see - had to find out what was going on in there -- who was making Wilma cum like that! Scarcely daring to breathe, she tiptoed towards the slightly open bedroom door. Craning her neck, she managed to see into the bedroom. The breath rattled in her throat, and her heart started to pound like a jackhammer! Her eyes clouded over from the lascivious sight which met her eyes.
It was Carlo -- her own husband who was in there, just slipping his still-hard cock from the gaping, sperm inundated vagina of the kneeling Wilma -- slipping it from between her legs, from behind! Gina's head spun violently. Her own girlfriend Wilma couldn't -- wouldn't do that -- let herself be made love to in that abnormal way -- dog fashion. Wilma, who had instilled in her that men were a nuisance to be borne as best as one could, that women were so much nicer -- and she had succumbed to being made love to from behind like a bitch in heat, by her husband! Wilma was still on her hands and knees, her face still flushed, and Gina could see that she was panting from the strength of her release.
"God, Carlo ..." Gina heard her girlfriend gasp . . . "that was wonderful . . . I've never been fucked so good by a man before ..."
Gina choked back feelings of anger and humiliation. Anger at her girlfriend for betraying her, and humiliation as she remembered her own abandoned seizures of ecstasy under the girl's wanton tonguing down between her thighs -- the girl who was so completely satiated now by Carlo, her own husband's perverted lovemaking!
Gina had to fight to control the tears that were beginning to blind her. The dream world she had so carefully built up with herself and Wilma, and from which she had so painstakingly excluded her husband, was crumbling. She had estranged herself from Carlo, relying almost totally on Wilma --and now, they were together, and she was excluded, forgotten. Bitter tears coursed down her face.
"Now it's my turn!" she heard a pert little voice chirping, and through her tears, she could see a young, completely naked girl, petite and blond, and with athletic sensuality, creep over towards where Carlo and Wilma were half-lying on the bed. The blond was on all fours, and with slow insolence, she circled around until her well-shaped little buttocks were invitingly offered. Gina could see the golden-hued pear-shaped cheeks quivering slightly in anticipation, and from between her slightly parted legs, she could see stray wisps of straw-colored pubic hair curling down. With equal casualness, Carlo crawled up behind the seductively kneeling girl, and Gina could see that his penis was fully erect once more. It was monstrous and heavy, webbed from head to base with throbbing blue veins and Gina knew she'd never seen it so hugely distended before.
Lenore turned her head to the side, the better to see the hardened male cock which was soon to be imbedded inside her.
"Oh Carlo . . . she gasped, her eyes widening, "it's so big and hard -- I can hardly wait for you to ram it up inside me!"
Gina felt herself blushing from the strange girl's lewd statement. Who was she? She seemed to know Carlo pretty well -was she a friend of Wilma's, too? She had stumbled on an unexpected orgy between her husband, her own female lover, and another girl. What should she do about it? Should she rush in there, demand an explanation? From whom? Wilma, her lover, or her husband?
A delighted gasp arrested her attention again and she saw Carlo had teased his fingers into the blond's tight little cuntal split and was positioning his prick at the moistened mouth of her vagina, which Gina could just see faintly gleaming, an iridescent pink. With a sudden swift lunge forward, he plunged his fiery cock into the girl's eagerly quavering pussy. Gina stifled back a sob, her own body jarring from sympathetic shock.
"OWWWWWW!!!" the skewered blond sobbed, gasping from the sudden onslaught. But Carlo continued to plow forward until the entire lust-hardened length of his prick was buried inside the young girl, and his balls were swaying down against the soft curling strands of her blonde pubic triangle. He held his cock positioned there for a moment, and then began to slowly draw it out and Gina could see the delicate coral edges of the blond's pussy tenaciously cling to the retreating pillar of hard flesh. Then, grasping her by the hips from above, her husband began to screw into the young girl's upturned cunt with long even strokes, sinking it completely to the hilt each time and withdrawing it until just the expanded head was enclosed inside the tightly clasping little hole between her legs.
The young blonde girl began to mewl and Gina could see her screwing back her buttocks willingly on Carlo's pillaging member. She was enjoying it! Gina's own husband was screwing into her upraised vagina from the back, just like he did into Wilma a few minutes before, and the girl was enjoying it beyond doubt! And Wilma, her best friend and lover, was actually enjoying the decadent sight. She was sitting back on her heels, still completely naked, her eyes riveted on the erotic connection of cock and cunt taking place a^ scant foot away. The air was filled with the wet smacking sounds of Carlo's cock slicing into the blond's well-lubricated pussy and the rhythmic sluicing sounds were so totally sensual that Gina thought there must be dozens of couples making love in Wilma's bedroom.
Gina stood transfixed, her churning body a writhing mass of confused and contradicting sensations. She wanted to run, get away from the debased spectacle of her husband fucking canine fashion into a strange girl, while her own best girlfriend looked avidly on, her insides still enflamed from a similar fucking. And yet, she couldn't leave just now. It was almost as if, having been there from the start, seeing her own husband shoot his burning sperm deep up inside her girlfriend's voraciously sucking pussy, she was committed to stay to the end, to see for herself what ultimately transpired between the lewd threesome. Had they been doing it before she came, in other positions, perhaps? Then lewd questions jumped suddenly and unbidden into her mind, sending a chilling thrill through her. There was something definitely appealing in a prurient way, to the thought of her husband, her girlfriend and the blond involved in some incredible three-way sex! Immediately Gina rebuked herself. She mustn't think that way - she should suppress those evil, inful thoughts. It was bad enough that she should be watching such a lewd reality, without adding the crime of embroidering the facts with her lascivious thought ! Shame crept over her in a smothering blanket. She was almost as bad as they " re -- being a witness was almost the same as being a participant!
"Fuck back, you little cunt. . . fuck back harder!" Carlo's staggered voice rang out, as he lewdly urged the girl to respond to his demonic advances. Gina listened in abject mortification. How could he use such vile words, as freely as if it were ordinary speech, adding obscenity to his already decadent lovemaking? The girl, Lenore, didn't seem to mind -- in fact the obscene words seemed to enflame her even more and she thrust back with increasing fury.
"Oh yessss Carlo!" she panted, "your cock feels so good inside me ..."
"Screw your cunt back harder on my prick ..." Carlo demanded again through clenched teeth.
This time, her husband's crude demand of another woman had a different effect on
Gina. The lewd words, which she had only heard before whispered at school, for some strange, unexplainable reason suddenly began to excite her, the very aura of "forbidden" which surrounded them inciting her. Somehow they didn't seem out of place in this lewd three-way sexual travesty she was watching.
Her husband's breath was coming in hard, fast explosions now. Perspiration was rolling down in little trickles over his reddened face and Gina could see the muscles standing out like whipcord on his strong legs. His pistoning cock was plunging with savage strokes into the young squirming blonde girl's plundered pussy, and Gina thought that he looked like one of Catlin's primitive Indians performing some pagan fertility rite.
She felt a burning tingle slowly glowing between her own legs. She shifted around, trying to dispell it but it persisted, and worse still, seemed to grow. Her eyes were glued on her husband's obscenely disappearing cock -- all thoughts were forgotten now in the mesmerization caused by the age-old ritual of man fucking woman.
Their two bodies were straining against each other, Lenore's being almost lifted off the ground by the buttock flattening force of Carlo's thrusts into her and he was in danger of falling over backwards from the strength with which she fucked back against him.
Another new feeling also began to grow in Gina's consciousness. Seeds of jealousy that had been planted by the burning up between her thighs and were now sprouting into full-blown moisture forming stabs. Wilma and her betrayal were now forgotten - all Gina could think of was that Carlo, her husband, was being unfaithful to her, right before her very eyes! She wanted to be there, kneeling submissively before him instead of that girl, in her rightful place! She loved Carlo, there was never any doubt about that, and if she had another chance, to start over again, perhaps-
"OOOOHHHHHhhhhh ..." the girl's muffled squeals rang out. "I'm going . . . I'm cccuuummmmmiiinnnggg!!!"
"Keep fucking baaaacccckkkk!" Carlo moaned, giving a gigantic cunt-stretching thrust inside her.
''Yes . . - yes . . . MMM mmmmmmm ..." she shrieked again. They writhed about in a jumble of perspiring limbs and torsos, he flooding her vagina with jackhammer jets of hotly seething seminal fluid, which ricocheted off her hungrily clasping pussy walls and ran in a lewd, viscous trickle down the softly working insides of her trembling thighs, while she heaved her buttocks desperately back against his pounding loins, her thighs and belly quivering, and her brain reeling insanely.
Gina watched, horrified into a revulsed fascination. She had moved unconsciously completely inside the room now, her eyes glazed over and her lips parted, unable to tear her gaze away from the incredible display of carnal lust taking place on the rhythmically groaning couch.
"GINA!"
She had been seen, her presence noticed by the lewd trio! But even though Wilma's frightened, sudden calling of her name penetrated the stupefied horror of her brain, she just stood there, as if paralyzed, rooted to the spot!
Chapter Nine
Wilma stood staring at Gina, her frightened thoughts confused in her head. Gina looked shocked -- what would happen now? She had obviously seen them -- Carlo's cock had just begun to slide limply out of Lenore 's sperm-filled pussy!
She waited for Gina to react, to scream, faint, accuse, but she just stood there, motionless, her eyes staring unseeingly.
"Are -- are you all right, Gina?" she asked in a quavering voice.
There was no answer.
Wilma jumped up oblivious to her nakedness, and hurried over to the shell-shocked woman.
"Gina, come sit down, honey," she said soothingly, her arm around the silent girl. Like a zombie, Gina allowed herself to be lead over to the sofa, to be pushed gently into a sitting position beside Carlo.
Lenore looked at Carlo, but received no clue from his stony face as to his thoughts. Her first thought, on seeing Gina, was ironically, how stunningly beautiful she was. But she had seen them, her own husband fucking her and Lenore both. She was suddenly afraid of her wifely wrath. To her relief, Wilma motioned to her to leave the room, and the two girls exited quietly, leaving the husband and wife alone.
Carlo looked at his wife without speaking. She looked so forlorn, so unhappy, so much like a lost little child. He'd been shocked out of his wits when he'd seen her staring at him as he writhed in orgasmic abandon from the fucking he'd given Lenore. But now, all previous thoughts and feelings paled into insignificance beside the swelling of love for her that was rising in him. He couldn't help it if she preferred Wilma to him, if he couldn't free her from the prudish chains that bound her. He still loved her, he--
A heartbroken sob rent the air and then Gina was weeping uncontrollably, her shoulders shaking, her face buried in her hands.
"I didn't mean ... to hurt you ..." she sobbed. "I wasn't really unfaithful to you . . . it's different with a woman . . . it's you I love ..." and fresh tears cascaded down, spilling out between her fingers.
Did she mean it? Did she still love him after -- after what she'd seen?
Tentatively, he put an arm on her shoulder, and the friendly touch shattered her completely, and she leaned against him, sobbing convulsively, seemingly unaware of his nudity. Carlo, his heart bursting with joy from the knowledge that she still cared for him a little bit, wrapped her in his arms, and cradled her- to him.
As Carlo held her close, Gjna stopped crying and a feeling of laxity and security crept over her. She snuggled up to her husband and he, intoxicated by her nearness, felt a tingling of re-newed arousal beginning to spread through his body. He wanted to make love to her now, plunge his cock deep inside his own wife, in spite of having made love to two other women so recently.
But dare he? Might she not turn cold and impassive as always?
But the sexual fires in him were sparking to life again, and with exaggerated slowness, he began to unzip Gina's wool dress, soothing her as he did so.
"Oh Gina darling, I love you too -please forgive me for hurting you -- it'll never happen again."
Sensing no objection in his wife, he began to slip the dress down over her swan-like shoulders, and she obediently lifted each arm in turn out of the sleeves. His fingers unhooked her bra, setting her creamy, full breasts free, and they surged against him, their nipples smoldering sparks in his delirious hands.
She doesn't mind! She doesn't mind! His brain sang joyfully. He caressed the pliant globes, kneading them with his fingers, feeling the smooth, vibrant flesh come alive under his touch. His hands were playing down over her satin-smooth curves, easing off her dress, her hips raising up off the couch to help him. Then she was clad only in her sheer, white nylon panties and Carlo, his heart thumping irregularly, peeled them down over the smooth, white firmness of her buttocks reverently, as excited and aroused as if it were the first time. Then she was sitting completely naked beside him, her hands clutched demurely in her lap, her eyes downcast.
Carlo thought he'd never seen her look so breathtakingly beautiful. Her eyes still glistened with tears and her coral lips were full and quivering.
With a passionate groan, he threw himself on her, his tongue racing wildly all over her trembling body. He traced long teasing paths of saliva all down the length of her porcelain-like curve's, sucking greedily on her breasts, probing at her sunken little navel, brushing and licking at her silky pubic fleece with his lips. He was tempted to explore there between her thighs, taste for the first time her nectar-like pussy juices, but he didn't want to do anything that might spoil her mood -- better wait till next time.
Gina lay moaning softly beneath him. She had been shocked into absolute insensitivity by the unbelievable sight of her husband dimming like a wild bull into two other women, one her best friend, and she had been in a complete daze when Wilma had led her into the living room. But now - now she was coming to life again - resurrected by her husband's tender touches on her body. She hardly believed it herself -- that she was responding so intensely to his caresses. But she was! Every nerve ending was electrically alive and tremors cavorted up and down her back. She could feel the hardness of her husband's erect penis burning into her leg, the red-hot flesh searing her like a fire brand.
And then, Carlo was whispering commandingly above her, "I'm going to fuck you now, baby, like we've never known it could be done!"
She stiffened involuntarily at his coarse phrase, expecting to become revulsed. But she didn't. All she knew was that she wanted him to... yes, fuck her, even though he'd just had that self-same penis inside two other women in a row. Yes, she wanted him inside her, to "feel his thick, desire-for-her, hardened cock plummet into her open cunt, yes! yes! she wanted it now!
"Yes! yes, darling Carlo..." she murmured. She had a tingle now growing up between her legs, kindled by his sensuous tonguing and stroking of her naked body.
She felt him drop his lower torso between her widespread legs, felt again the throbbing hardness of his prick pressed against the sensitive flesh of her hair-fringed pussy. She spread her legs invitingly wider, flexing her pussy up tighter against his hardening cock, offering herself irrevocably to him.
Carlo's heart nearly burst with joy as he felt her desire for him. She wanted him, even after all that had happened! But there was just one more thing, one more thing he had to find out . . . ,
"Darling," he whispered hoarsely, "take my cock and put it in your pussy!"
She didn't move.
Carlo's body felt suddenly like lead and there was a sinking feeling in his stomach.
"Damnit put it in your cunt!" he commanded this time, pangs of disappointment stabbing him. She didn't really want him . . . Then, with unbelievable happiness, he felt his prick being grasped hesitantly in her cool small hands, guided tentatively towards the waiting moistness of her vaginal mouth, positioned there at the tender, petal-edged opening. He could feel the soft bearded lips nibbling almost imperceptibly at the sensitive rubbery head of his cock and he could feel his wife's breathing becoming more rapid beneath him.
He had proof now that she really wanted him - she had .guided his prick to the heretofore sacred entrance to her body, and so he could wait no longer. He jerked upwards, his hips grinding his rockhard cock into the smooth, damp flesh of her vaginal cavern, fucking it deeper and deeper up the lubricated passage to the very depths of her waiting womb.
"OOOHHHHhhhh ..." Gina sobbed as she felt her husband's hardened penis slice through her heaving flesh, felt the bloated sac of his balls smack softly against her naked anus nestled teasingly between the upturned cheeks of her buttocks below. He held his cock inside her for a moment, and then began to flex it teasingly, lovingly. Her sensitive inner walls caught the slight movement and deep inside her, she could feel their faint voluntary answering throb.
Then he began a gentle in and out fucking motion, the sliding flesh of his penis stroking the inside of her vagina like a hundred tiny tickling fingers. The tingling inside her was growing, into lively sparks, and the flames were fanned by her husband's rhythmic fucking in and out of her. Her whole being was bathed in the warm pleasant sensation of being gently massaged deep up inside her body all the way to her firm, full breasts and she undulated her body snake-like in time to the sensual caresses of his prick.
As the fire slowly grew and raged hotter and hotter within her, she began to moan softly, her head flailing from side to side, her hands digging into Carlo's back.
He, noticing her arousal, began to grind his cock harder into her, and she increased her upward rhythm to match his, her cuntal valley flowering open to admit him even deeper.
"MMMMmrnmmmm . . . Carlo. Oh God, darling this feels so good," she moaned dreamily. And it did feel good. For the first time, she was truly enjoying being fucked by her husband. There had never been anything so good, so totally pleasure-giving, never this good with Wilma!
From nowhere came the sudden thought. Now she was free, free to enjoy married love, free from the prudery with which she'd been so senselessly indoctrinated for so long! And she was enjoying it! God, how she was enjoying this delicious fucking, yes, that was the word, her husband was giving her with his beautiful hardened cock. He was slamming it still harder and deeper inside her, and yet her vagina, denied male satiation for so long, seemed to clamor dementedly for more. Carlo's mouth was grinding down on hers now, his tongue swirling feverishly into her ovaled "mouth in simulation of the fucking he was giving her down between her widespread legs. His hands had reached down and cupped her squirming buttocks, pulling her cunt further up like a hot elastic shaft on his plunging cock, and she had spread her legs wider still in the wonder, stretched her thighs far apart, welcomed him in with all her carnal being!
She was an abandoned slut now -- lost in the throes of the insane rocketing that was taking hold deep inside her hungrily clenching cunt, taking her body and shaking it violently before crashing it to pieces. Her body and flailing legs were beyond control now, and it was spasming, shuddering and . . .
"AAAAHHHHHHH!! ..." she half screamed, "Yes, yes fuck it like that, YESSSSS.. . !!!"
Her features were wildly contorted with passion, her dignity completely gone, as her orgasm began its dizzying climb to its sensual summit. Up, up she went, bumping, and shaking along the way, until she finally crested and her whole insides went shattering down with frenetic gushes of hot creaming female cum.
"Oooohhhh . . . oh God!" she monaed again, warm spurts of her orgasmic fluid seeping endlessly from her vaginal walls and drowning his still plunging cock. His tempo increased with furious speed, his buttocks clenching wildly, until they were tossing about on the sofa like naked belly dancers, and then there was a long awaited eruption in his balls and the hot, white liquid began its race up the length of his cunt enveloped cock, and the waves of cum washed into every fold and crease of his wife's hot, sucking pussy, a never-ending flood of male cream which made her belly quiver ever more possessively with each violent emptying spasm.
He collapsed breathlessly on top of her naked, well-fucked body, and she went limp beneath him. She felt his prick go flaccid with satiation inside her and yet, she didn't want it to slip from her just yet. She gazed up at him with love and tenderness shining in her passion-dimmed eyes.
"Oh God, Carlo ... I never thought it could be so wonderful!"
"Better than . . . with Wilma's tongue?" he asked, almost fearfully.
"Oh yes, darling, much better, so much better! But I'm not sorry for what happened with my girlfriend!"
"Wha ..." was all Carlo could say.
"Well, if it hadn't been for her doing those things to me, I'd - I'd never have been able to fuck back the way I did - give you the kind of love that you need!"
"I don't see what she had to do with it!" he said huffily, surprised at. her conscious use of the word.
So Gina explained, for the first time to her husband about her girlhood affair with Wilma.
"And, don't you see, meeting her again and being involved with her," she explained, "sort of finished off that part of my life, completed the maturing process which had been stunted by her leaving so suddenly."
"I still don't see -"
"Think about it, darling. Even though I finally got out of that stage of my life, I still felt horribly guilty about it, but seeing you doing it to that blonde girl, made me realize that - well, we're all human, and what I did, that is, my relationship with Wilma couldn't be so very wrong."
"And then your guilt lifted," Carlo broke in, "and you were free to act like a mature woman! Oh honey, I see it now! God, we were so lucky to meet those two!"
"Yes, darling." Gina assented, "it feels so marvelous to be complete, a full woman."
She felt the beginnings of desire beginning deep inside her, in the pit of her belly again, and she cuddled up against her husband. He sensed her newly-awakened passion, and smiling with love and happiness pulled her towards him again.
Wilma and Lenore sat finishing their drinks in the kitchen. They had listened with relief to the incredible wet fucking sounds coming from the other room. Both of them had felt twinges of guilt on seeing Gina's initial shock as they had both been involved with the marital partners and were terrified that some lasting damage would be done to the marriage. But now, all seemed to be quiet out there and the two girls decided to investigate. They silently opened the living room door and peered in:
Carlo and Gina were still making love, this time she was kneeling on all fours and he was fucking into her from behind. She'd wanted it that way, insisted on being fucked in the same obscene kneeling positipn she'd seem him do it to Wilma and Lenore in, and Carlo had gladly obliged. Now he was pounding furiously into her with hard, grunting, buttock flattening thrusts and she was lewdly grinding the smooth ivory cheeks back on his cock, flaring the muscles of her cunt mouth wide to draw him deep inside her. Her breasts, full alabaster globes, were dancing around pendulously under her, the pinkish-brown aureolas contracting from the tautening nipples.
Gina's hair hung down in damp curls around her perspiring face and they could see the veins in her thighs and the muscles in her stomach contract and relax as she ground her pussy hungrily back on her husband's rockhard cock.
Wilma edged forward. She was fascinated to the trembling-point by this wanton display of carnal lust in the normally dignified Gina. Her eyes were enflamed by the sight of her girlfriend eagerly returning thrust for thrust with her husband. She remembered Gina's pussy, how its soft pinkness trembled under her touch, the sweet honey taste of it, the way her jewelled little clitoris burgeoned under her gentle nibbling. She had to taste it, feel it, see it again! Oblivious to everything but her mounting desire, she sidled over to where the two figures were frantically fucking. Without a word, Wilma crouched down on the floor and her eyes riveted on the glimmering ebony pubic hair between Gina's legs, slid under her panting body, feeling Gina's breasts graze against the flesh of her stomach as she positioned her face under and between her working thighs.
Gina gasped as she felt the satiny feel of feminine flesh beneath her. Fora moment, she was confused as to what was happening. But then, she saw Wilma's bronze pubic triangle gleaming wetly under her face and she knew who it was, at the same instant as she felt the first electric contact of her tongue on her tender flesh. She shivered in spite of herself. Wilma nestled her mouth in the glossy fleece and Gina felt her soft kisses and hot puffs of breath up underneath her cock filled pussy and the magic of her tongue swirling up and down her vaginal cleft, grazing tantalizingly at her rigid little clitoris, all the while her husband was fucking into her from behind. God... this was incredible . . . the dual assault on her loins was driving her crazy with desire . . .
Looking wildly around her, she saw Wilma's legs splay open and she could see her long pink cuntal slit surrounded by thinly-sparsed copper hair glistening just below her mouth. She could see the other girl's vaginal orifice, pulsating faintly, the tight little hole moist and viscous. The little point of her clit was peeping out eagerly from between the swollen fleshy outer lips and Wilma's musk female scent wafted out to intoxicate her completely.
With a moan, Gina thrust her tongue out and slavered it the full length of Wilma's widespread split, probing deeply into the secret mouth of her vagina, sucking voraciously at the mead-sweet cunt-juices, teasing her turgid little clitoris. She felt her girlfriend writhe under her ministrations, and she reflected her pleasure and arousal in renewed and feverish lickings of Gina's own cunt.
Carlo had been shocked to discover Wilma insinuating herself into their private love-making. But his anger was assuaged somewhat when he felt her tongue coating his plunging cock from beneath with her warm saliva as she sucked at his wife's cunt, and Gina was ^obviously enjoying the feminine attention, as she fucked back on him with fresh vigor, her cunt closing in like a tightening rubberband on his pile-driving cock.
Then, to his astonishment, he felt a pair of hands on his balls -- kneading, stroking them, weighing them lovingly in the palms, titillating the crinkly skin, pulling playfully at the little hairs which surrounded the sperm bloated sacs. The touch was like fire on his testicles - he was sure they would explode. He knew it must be Lenore, he could feel her body lying between his legs as he knelt there.
Christ, he thought suddenly, a vision of their fantastic daisy-chain breaking in on his lwst dimmed thoughts. I'm fucking my wife, while she's sucking'and being sucked by her girlfriend, and Lenore is tickling my balls!
The full realization of their incredible four-way fucking struck him like a bolt from heaven.
He had three women at once, he thought excitedly, a blond, a brunette and a redhead! He had fucked them all separately, and now they were all fucking together!
Memories jumped up from his dreams -wishful thinking about having three girls, one blond, one dark, one red ... and here they were! He had all three of them!
He pounded like an automaton into his wife's behind, goaded on by the insane pumping at his balls from behind, and the wet sucking and licking sounds coming from underneath.
Christ, he thought wildly, my wife and the redhead are sucking each other's cunts below and the blond is yanking my balls off behind!
That was his last coherent thought as Gina came just then, her ecstatic shrieks lost in the depths of Wilma's cunt, her own pussy twitching and flailing like a demented kitten, almost tearing his cock out by the roots with its forceful pulling. He and Wilma came together, Lenore squeezing the formenting sperm out of his balls, and Wilma licking wildly on his prick in her crazed frenzy below.
God, he'd never experienced anything' like this in his life, he thought as he drained the last of his hotly gushing sperm deep up into his wife's hungrily clenching pussy. Then all four fell together in a satiated lethargic heap, the blond, brunette and red feminine heads lying alongside his dark one.
It was dark when Carlo and Gina, satisfied and happy, and replenished with mugs of soup and French bread, left Wilma's apartment. Hand in hand, they walked out of the building, secure in their mutual need and ability to fill that need.
Wilma looked at the departing couple with a pang of sadness.
"We'll never see them again!" Lenore said sorrowfully.
"I know," Wilma sighed, but there's a slight consolation."
"Oh, what's that?" Lenore asked gloomily.
"We've found each other at last!" Wilma said wryly.
"Oh Wilma!" Lenore laughed, running happily over to the other girl and squeezing her tightly to her still naked body.
