The third quarter of the Twentieth Century has been characterized as a period of great change. The number of independent nations has more than doubled in this period - the surge toward political freedom occurring all over the world. There also has been a widespread demand for other freedoms, among others: the freedom from want, sexual freedom, freedom of as womenexemplified by the various women's rights movements), and the freedom to read or view material of your choice.
In the United States, books and magazines dealing with sexual realism are a grave political issue. For many years, now, a variety of publications have been filled with demands for sexual freedom; others have aided people to gain greater fulfillment from their sexual activities through descriptions, discussions and pictures. And wife-swapping has gained adherents in all sections of the nation.
At the same time, with all the forceful demands for sexual freedom, it is often overlooked that any freedom - if it is truly a freedom and not just a form of slavish conformity or mere hedonistic license - must include the right to say no. In the enthusiastic surge towards freedom in sexual expression, people sometimes forget that not everyone needs or can cope with a variety of relationships.
In wife-swapping, for example, while a certain amount of promiscuity may save one marriage, it might possibly destroy another. If the husband believes strongly in a double-standard - that it's all right for him to indulge in extra-marital sexual activity, but his wife must remain faithful to him (a concept which the Women's Rights Movement has challenged- - then wife-swapping may serve to dissolve that marriage rather than to make it stronger. Or, if a wife is thoroughly satisfied with her sexual relations with her husband, then wife-swapping may well lead to intense emotional conflicts which serve to weaken the marital bond.
We, the Publishers, are proud to present this latest issue in the Illustrated Novel Series which concerns just such a couple: young Pete Flowers and his wife, Rosemary. Their year-old marriage can best be described as blissful - and it is only when a serpent enters their Garden of Eden, in this instance, in the person of Doreen Jarvis, a dedicated wife-swapper - that the young couple's bliss turns to dust. Once they hesitantly take their first step into the realm of swingers, these young innocents are lost; they can find no way to check their headlong flight into a world which is far too complex and sybaritic for their simple powers to cope with.
The Publishers are certain that this study of one aspect of modern society will be welcomed by mature adult readers as a significant and educational aid to a better understanding of our contemporary mores.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
Paul Jarvis eased into the right lane of the freeway and pulled up the drive to the service station, bringing the big Continental to a halt beside the gas pumps. He cut the ignition, then dropped his hand lightly onto the smooth contours of his wife's long firm thigh, freely exposed by the short skirt that had worked its way far up above her knees. He looked at the fullness of her breasts straining against the tight-fitting material of her blouse. Then, lifting his eyes to her face, he was surprised to find that she was not looking back at him. Following her gaze to the wide entrance of the garage, Jarvis grinned sardonically as he realized what had attracted her attention.
Leaning against the wall and for the moment making no move to come out and serve them, was the muscular, primitively handsome young gasoline station attendant. He wore his uniform shirt open in front, and the grease-smudged white T-shirt clung to his broad muscular chest. There was a tear in the T-shirt, through which several thick curls of black hah could be seen, and a conspicuous bulge in his trousers revealed, if not an erection, at least a very generous natural endowment. That, Jarvis remarked silently to himself, was no doubt what had attracted Doreen's wandering eyes. Looking up, he saw that the kid was staring back at his wife, thrilled or astonished or even transfixed. Paul studied his face for a moment, a blank, hard-sculptured, deeply tanned face, then raised his hand from his wife's thigh and beeped the horn. The boy snapped suddenly back to reality, averted his eyes from Doreen and strode quickly toward them.
"Intelligent looking kid," Paul said.
His wife's black eyes flashed as she stared back at him. Her tongue flicked unconsciously out to moisten her voluptuously inviting lips. Her sultry face assumed a mischievous expression. "What you saw in those eyes, my dear, was not, I don't think, intelligence."
"No kidding," Jarvis grunted dryly.
"That was animal magnetism."
"Fill her up, sir?" the boy said, obviously trying to avoid the sensuous twenty-five year old woman's provoking gaze as he moved in front of the Continental and around to Paul's side.
"Yeah. And check under the hood." Paul looked back at his wife. "Sure. Animal magnetism. I understand all the Neanderthals had it."
"Then I was born too late," Doreen answered, shifting on the seat in a manner that served to work her skirt up even higher on her shapely legs.
Looking back through the windshield, Paul noted that the rugged teenager had not missed his wife's gesture. He was staring openly at her exposed thighs now, and it was only a moment later that he seemed to sense, perhaps as an animal senses danger, that her husband in turn was staring at him.
He shifted his gaze abruptly to Paul, then looked quickly away, raising the hood to obscure himself from their view. Paul glanced back at his wife, then extracted his wallet from his jacket pocket and removed the thick roll of bills he always liked to carry in case of need. It was obvious Doreen's interest had really been captured by this kid. But that didn't really bother him, at least not the way it would have bothered most more ordinary husbands. It didn't make him jealous. But somehow Jarvis couldn't help feeling a certain contempt for this particular young guy. He looked so stupid, so innocent, so naive. Good looking, yes. But beyond an occasional romp in the sack, looks would never get this kid anywhere if he didn't have the brains and ambition to go with them. And he didn't. That much was evident to Paul, and it filled him with an almost exquisite sense of superiority.
"Oil's fine, sir," the boy said as he lowered the hood. Self-consciously he walked to the back of the long automobile. Doreen Jarvis watched in the rear-view mirror as he fed a few more drops of gas into the tank, then replaced the pump. "That's eight-ninety-four, sir," he said as he moved back to the window on Paul's side.
Paul peeled a ten from the roll of bills he'd displayed. Beside him, Doreen watched the handsome young man through narrowed eyes. "You're new here, aren't you?" she drawled, her accent revealing a lingering influence from her childhood, most of which she's spent in Memphis.
"Yes, ma'am," the young man said, daring again for a moment to look at her face. "I was working at a station in San Diego, but me and Rosemary - she's my wife - are buying a house in town here so I got myself transferred to this one."
"I see," said Doreen, her eyes sparkling as she gazed out the window. "I always stop here for gas, so I suppose we'll be seeing more of each other."
"I'll-I'll be happy to be of service."
"I'm sure you will," Paul said abruptly. "Could I have my change, please?"
"Oh! Yes, sir!" The greasy-faced young man quickly extracted a dollar bill and two coins from his pocket and passed them through the window as Paul turned over the ignition to start the Continental.
"My name's Doreen Jarvis," Doreen said, putting her hand on her husband's forearm to indicate she wanted him to wait for a moment before pulling away. "And you're...?"
"Pete. Pete Flowers."
"Well, Pete," the sensuous brunette said with a warm and genuine smile. "I'm happy to meet you."
Paul Jarvis shook his head, shifted into "drive" and pulled away, leaving the confused young man to stare almost wistfully after the big car. Pete watched the vehicle move back onto the freeway. He still couldn't quite understand the woman's manner. She was good looking, really good looking, and her attraction was of an entirely different sort than Rosemary's. Rosemary was innocent and virginal, even if she was not and had not been a virgin since a year before they were married. And this woman was just downright earthy.
"Hell, I dunno," Pete muttered to himself. He shrugged and walked back across the drive toward the garage entrance. She'd been coming on to him, that much was certain. She'd been coming on to him right in front of her husband - or at least Pete thought the man was her husband. But it probably didn't really mean anything. Maybe she was just trying to make the older man jealous.
And yet, Pete couldn't help thinking to himself, it would be nice to have a really good-looking, sexy-looking, experienced woman like that for a night or two - if he wasn't married to Rosemary.
* * *
Rosemary Flowers set the dish of home-made apple pie a la mode on the table and gazed down proudly as Pete began to gobble it down. Tall and slender, the eighteen year old housewife wore a tight-fitting sleeveless sweater that revealed her golden tanned arms and shoulders and emphasized the fully rounded contours of her breasts, which stood out strikingly from her torso. Her long blonde hair was pulled back from her forehead, then hung freely down her back, and the miniskirt she wore emphasized her sleek young thighs.
"Good?" she asked softly.
"Great!" Pete answered through a mouthful of the rich dessert, his eyes wandering appreciatively over his wife's sensuous body as he spoke. Then Rosemary finished clearing the table and turned away to the sink to wash the dishes. Looking at the ripe promise of her buttocks outlined under her skirt, Pete made a mental comparison between Rosemary's body and the body of the sexy brunette who'd accompanied the man in the Continental that had stopped at the station this afternoon. But the fact was that there was really nothing to compare. Rosemary was slender, almost fragile; that woman definitely had been built for nothin' but fucking! That woman, Pete found himself thinking with a growing excitement, probably could and would do things in bed Rosemary would never dream of. Christ! She'd not only let - but expect - a guy to go down on her! But he still wouldn't have traded. Sometimes in his fantasies Pete dreamed about making it with another woman. But he couldn't think of it in terms of something that could really happen. Except for a high school "punch" he'd got to once a couple of months before he quit school and went to work, Rosemary was the only woman Pete had ever had. And he knew he should damned well be satisfied. Rosemary had been his girl since she was eleven and he was twelve. Except for one short break-up they'd been together almost seven years. And Pete knew as well as anybody she was really a prize catch. She could have had just about any guy in the whole school. And she'd never Wanted anybody but him.
"Hamburger's gone up again," Rosemary remarked, interrupting Pete from his reverie.
"Oh yeah," Pete said, scraping up the last of his pie and ice cream on his fork. He belched, leaned back from the table and patted his belly. "Wouldya get me a beer out of the box, hon'."
Rosemary wiped her hands on the dish towel, opened the refrigerator and took out a can of cold beer. She tore open the flip-top and turned to pass it across the table to Pete. She watched him lift it to his lips, the white foam spilling from the corner of his mouth and down onto his tight-fitting T-shirt as he drank. Then her eyes strayed to his bare arms and swollen biceps, then gradually descended lower toward the front of his trousers. Then, a smile of anticipation crossing her lips, the young blonde turned away.
As Rosemary finished up in the kitchen, Pete took his beer into the living room, flicked on the tube and sat down on the couch. Moments later she joined him; they snuggled close together at one end of the comfortable sofa, purchased with the Sears credit card they'd applied for when they got married, and watched the tail-end of an old and, Rosemary thought, rather boring movie about some American artists in Paris. She wondered fleetingly, as she watched the final panoramic shot of the city that ended the film, if she would ever see Paris - or Rome or Venice or even New York City. And she knew, almost without regret, that she never would. If she'd wanted excitement and travel, she would have had to marry someone other than Pete. Pete had never been any farther away than the Mexican border, nor did he have any ambition to move. It was like her mother had told her, with tears in her eyes, a couple of days before they were married. Her mother had told her Pete would probably never be anything but a service station attendant, or maybe a station manager at the most. "I know you love him, now," her mother had said. "But do you want his kind of life for yourself... for always? If it's a question of... of sex... go ahead and do it with him. I'd rather you made that... kind of mistake - than... " Her voice had trailed off. Rosemary looked her in the eye and said softly: "I have, Mama. I have been to bed with him."
Two days later they were married and honeymooning - in a motel in Laguna Beach.
"Sleepy?" Pete asked, massaging the soft bare skin of her shoulder with his work-calloused hand.
Turning toward him, Rosemary recognized the mischievous look in his eyes. She matched it with a sultry smile of her own, her tongue flicking teasingly out to moisten her inviting lips. "I'm ready to go to bed."
"Then let's go," Pete said with increasing eagerness, urging her up from the couch.
As she moved down the short hallway to the bedroom, Rosemary mused that sex might not be everything, but it was still the best thing she and Pete had. Then, her breath coming in soft, quickened gasps, she moved through the door and turned to face herself in the long dresser mirror. She stared seductively at her own blue eyes, then tilted her head sideways and making a little pout with her lips, she shifted her gaze to the doorway as Pete came through and stopped just inside, watching her. After all this time, five years of gradually intensified petting and two years of making almost constant love together, he still looked at her every time she undressed as if it was the first time he'd ever seen her without her clothes.
A smile playing on her lips, Rosemary quickly seized the tail of her sweater and peeled it up off her torso and neck, pulling it over her head so for a moment her vision was completely obscured. The sweater caught in the bobby pin that held her hair off her forehead, and when she'd managed to disentangle it and pull the garment off, she saw Pete moving quickly up behind her.
Rosemary moaned softly as she felt her young husband's hands coursing up the nakedly sensitive skin of her spine to deftly flick loose the snap of her brassiere. She shivered as he pushed the straps from her shoulders and the flimsy garment fluttered lightly to the floor, completely freeing the proudly upstanding mounds of her breasts crested by the pink-tipped nipples that swelled instantly to sensuously tingling rigidity from their contact with the air.
"Ooooooooooh," she moaned softly, lifting her arms high over her head to further arch and part her fully rounded breasts as Pete stooped slightly to kiss her on the back of the neck. She wrapped her arms back up around his neck, holding him against her back, and swaying on her feet as she felt him press against her from behind, the hardness of his cock pressing up in his trousers to prod promisingly at her tightly rounded buttocks on the outside of her skirt.
Then Pete dropped his hands to her waist, flicking open the snap at the top of the zipper, and a gentle push of his hands was all that was required to ease the garment over the flare of her buttocks and let it drop freely to her ankles, leaving her naked except for her flimsy bikini panties. Then again she observed his eyes in the mirror, and a brief frown crossed her face as she noted the way he was looking at her body. His gaze was shifting alternately from her back and barely covered buttocks to the reflection of her exposed breasts and belly. The familiar animal lust was there, but there was something else in his eyes, something strange and new, something she couldn't identify.
Pete's eyes roved hungrily over the lush curves of Rosemary's naked torso. For a moment his mind drifted back to the recollection of the woman who'd given him the eye this afternoon. And he thought - something he rarely ever did when he was about to make love - he thought about her, about the difference between her and Rosemary. And for a moment he wondered if he was not missing something by being so faithful to his wife. He wondered if he wasn't selling his own potential short, though his thoughts were not expressed in so many words. Then, an impulse stronger than introspection took over. To Rosemary, still watching him in the mirror, Pete looked again his hungry, primeval self. He reached eagerly beneath her arms to cup both her softly trembling breasts in his hands, squeezing them almost viciously before he turned her to face him and stopped to cover one of the nipples with his lips, nipping his teeth hungrily into the taut little bud, his tongue whipping teasingly over the sensitive tip.
"Ooooooooh," Rosemary purred, looking down through narrowed eyes at the manipulations of her husband's lips and tongue on the hard-swollen little bud of her nipple. She was trembling all over and Pete's nibbling oral caress made her whole aroused body shudder with tingling sensuality as she felt the acutely maddening waves of pleasure pouring through her young flesh. This was it! This was all that made her dull and common life worthwhile, and already she could feel her feminine need raging almost out of control through her burning breasts and loins.
Pete's hotly slavering mouth remained locked on Rosemary's rounded breasts, his lips pulling and sucking eagerly at the rigid little bud of her nipple. And even as he continued to kiss and suck the flesh of her naked torso, she could feel his hands moving lower down her body, wrapping around her waist to pull her barely protected loins tight against his own.
Then with a sudden gasp he straightened up. He stared with wild-eyed and primitive longing into her eyes, his breath coming in low hoarse gasps as his lips suddenly covered hers, crushing them against her teeth as his tongue shot deep into her open mouth, and she felt the fingernails of one of his hands scratching almost painfully over the sensitive skin of her naked back. He kissed her savagely, with all his thoughtlessly devouring passion, pulling her body forcibly against his own, crushing her with all his strength against the hard muscles of his chest. Then, as abruptly as he'd begun the kiss, he broke away, his hand seizing one of her arms as he pulled her toward the bed and shoved her down in a reclining position on her back.
Rosemary stared up through lust-narrowed eyes as Pete's gaze roved in fascination over the sensuous curves of her naked flesh. In spite of the near violence that raged almost visibly within his strong wiry body, his eager expectancy was almost child-like in its greed. He looked now like a child surveying a feast of sweets, and a further tremor of excited anticipation coursed through her loins as he kicked off his shoes, quickly peeled his T-shirt off his rippling chest, and clamored up to a kneeling position on the bed beside her.
"Oooooohhhhhh, that's good," the near-naked young blonde whispered seductively as Pete again lowered his face toward her and took one of her lust-swollen nipples between his teeth.
She writhed gently as his tongue flicked teasingly over the little bud. Then he increased the pressure until her whole nearly naked body shuddered in spontaneous reflex, but at the same time she felt his hand venture back to her belly and creep quickly lower, pausing at the sensitive indentation of her navel before his fingers inched down beneath the tight elastic waistband of her sheer panties, into the softly curling strands of her silken blonde pubic hair.
Now Pete was really getting excited. Forgotten was the older brunette he'd found himself so attracted to this afternoon. Rosemary was almost naked, waiting for him in unprotesting surrender. Right now her lovely body was the only one in the world, and his cock was already twitching to full erection inside his trousers. It was aching to be free, pushing almost painfully against the constricting material of his shorts, and at this moment he felt as if he would be able to fuck all night.
For several minutes longer Pete continued to tease and massage Rosemary's sparsely haired pubic mound from the inside of her tightly clinging panties. It seemed that an eternity passed before she finally felt his middle finger move down into contact with the already hardened bud of her tiny clitoris nestled at the top of the moistened slit of her cunt, and she arched her buttocks up urgently as his probing finger moved lower, down along the full length of her moistly heated little hair-lined cuntal orifice.
"Ooooooooh," the aroused young blonde moaned as she wiggled her smoothly curved hips up from the bed, parting her thighs out wide to work the soft lips of her pussy hotly up against Pete's eagerly prodding finger. He let just the tip of it pop inside the warm little orifice, then quickly withdrew, teasing and frustrating her for a few moments before he suddenly screwed the plundering end of it straight up into the elastic-like opening. As Rosemary squirmed before him, he drove relentlessly deeper into the clasping passage of her vagina until his long middle finger was buried to the knuckle and his palm was pressed flat against her welcoming pussy.
"Aaaaaggghhhh! Oooooohhhhhh yesssssss!" Rosemary moaned, her naked body arching stiffly up from the bed in response to the lewd invasion.
Again Pete bit down on one of the hard little buds of her nipples, prompting a further pained and passionate cry to rise involuntarily from her throat. Then as she continued to quiver beneath his assault, he began slowly to work his finger in and out of the flowering tightness of her cunt, penetrating in long teasing strokes as he used his other hand to work gently at her panties, pulling them down the smoothness of her thighs to completely expose the triangle of her blonde cunt-hair to his lustfully hungering gaze.
"Oooooh please," Rosemary moaned almost incoherently as her young husband shifted downward on the bed to slip her panties the rest of the way down her legs and off her ankles. He tossed them casually aside, then moved his hand quickly back up between her thighs, pushing them out wide apart to completely expose the forbidden plane of her cunt. And as his finger wormed swiftly back up into her steaming passage, he felt her hands begin to grope desperately at his body, tearing at the buckle of his belt in a desperate attempt to undo it.
"Please, Pete," she purred, a shudder coursing down the length of her inviting nakedness as he wiggled his finger deep up in her womb. "Take your pants off. Take your pants off and do it to me."
Pete hesitated for only a moment, maintaining his kneeling position over his wife on the bed, holding his finger thrust deep up inside her cunt as he gazed lovingly down at her lust-contorted face. Then he withdrew his finger with a moist little popping sound, relishing the gasp that rose to her lips as he quickly stood and began to pull off his trousers.
Still writhing gently on the bed, Rosemary waited in naked and spread-eagled surrender, the lust that surged through her almost blotting all thought from her mind. Pete was really getting worked up tonight, and she watched with building anticipation as he pulled his trousers and shorts down in a single swift motion and the hard-throbbing shaft of his cock jerked suddenly free. My God, she still couldn't get used to its size.
Pete was really well developed down there. The first time she'd given in to him, Rosemary had been afraid it would literally rip her apart at the seams. And though she'd survived that frightening assault, even now her husband's penis looked threatening. In a way she'd never quite understood, she'd learned to love it and fear it at the same time. Though sometimes it brought her pain, she worshipped it because it also brought her joy. It was an animalistic and pagan instrument of fulfillment, a taming, punishing rod of flesh. With it, more than with words, Pete was able to really communicate with her.
Rosemary almost closed her eyes as the muscular nineteen year old youth stepped out of his greasy trousers and moved back toward the bed. She purred softly as she felt the mattress sag beneath his weight and his hands moved again to her naked torso. A little groan escaped her as he took one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and teasing it to even greater hardness. Then she sighed as he slid up between her parted thighs, holding them out wide with his knees as he lowered his wiry body onto hers. His lips once more covered her mouth, and she shivered in fear and anticipation as she felt the thickly swollen hardness of his cock prodding threateningly up between her legs.
"Oh," the young blonde wife gasped at the sudden pressure as he lunged forward. His lust-hardened penis surged without warning straight up against the softness of her loins. Pete hesitated, his eyes red with lust and pride at the fact that even after a year of marriage Rosemary was still frightened by the size of his cock. Then, his own body quivering from his excitement and urgency, he pushed forward again, pressing the head of his heavily-swollen hardness even tighter up into the quivering moisture of her loins.
"Put it in," he grunted. "Rosemary, put it in."
As Pete craned his neck to sink his teeth back into the soft flesh of one of her breasts, Rosemary moved her hand down between their bodies to seek out and clasp the rigid hardness of his cock. She wriggled her buttocks gently on the bed, relishing the frightening power emanating from the surging shaft of flesh that pressed up between her thighs. She squeezed and caressed it reverently, levering it up and down along the tingling slit of her hair-lined pussy, at last fitting just the bulbous cock-head up between the forcibly parted lips as she felt Pete lunge forward anew with even greater and more animalistic force.
" Oooohhhhhhhh," she whimpered, the brutally violent penetration almost taking her breath away as his blood-filled cock-head plunged into her cunt like a vicious shaft of steel. She still gripped the base of his cock tightly, doing everything she could to restrain him until she could accustom herself to its massive size. Then, as she felt the resistance give way, she sank back in surrender on the bed, a low sigh escaping from her throat as her pussy flowered open and the entire length of Pete's rock-hard penis drove without impediment all the way up into her most secret pussy depths, embedding itself to the hilt into her lewdly filled cuntal tightness.
For a moment both of them lay perfectly still. Rosemary felt Pete's hairy muscular chest press hard against the voluptuous cushions of her breasts. She was completely filled and stretched and she was aware of every ridge and ripple of his rigidly virile young cock thrust all the way up into her tenderly cringing belly. The bushiness of his pubic hair scratched against the tingling bud of her clitoris and his sperm-bloated balls hung obscenely down into the crack between her buttocks to press teasingly against the tightly contracted little hole of her anus. Then he flexed deep up inside her, sending a shudder through her lust-racked body, and as she wrapped her arms' tightly about his back to pull him even more warmly against her, he slowly began to move.
Pete fucked his long thick cock savagely in and out of the tightly throbbing passage of his young wife's receptive pussy, each impaling lunge sending further shivers of obscene delight dancing over her naked flesh. He levered himself up on his elbows, staring down with feverish lust and child-like affection at her desire-strained face, and his hands moved back once more to her high-arched breasts to squeeze and tease at them even more violently as he began gradually increasing the tempo of his shattering fucking of her up between her thighs.
And as the last pain of his merciless entry faded, to be swallowed up by a rejuvenation of the passionate desire that had filled her, Rosemary began to respond. A stream of mewling whimpers issued from her lips as she began to arch and churn her buttocks, hunching eagerly back in response to her husband's heavily pounding strokes. The soft, flesh-rimmed mouth of her pussy was elastic-tight about his blood-engorged penis, and his sperm-filled balls swung forward with every thrust to slap teasingly against the cringing little hole of her anus. His lust-hardened cock felt as if it was surging all the way up into her belly, and already she could feel the first waves of ecstasy surging through her loins from the wildly stimulating sensations. Her tiny clitoris was palpitating with unabated desire and her whole body was alive with the flames of her all-consuming passion.
Pete fucked deeper and harder with every lust-crazed stroke as Rosemary bucked and tossed beneath him. He could see the ecstatic delirium that gripped her revealed in her glossed-over, wide-open eyes, and quickly he reached down beneath her hips with both his hands to clench tightly into her hotly squirming buttocks, guiding her and pulling her smooth ass-cheeks wider apart to lewdly expose her quivering little anus even more. Then, seized by a sudden wild idea, he abruptly pressed the middle finger of his right hand against his young wife's vulnerable anus. Flicking it forward again immediately, he crossed the little membrane that separated her anus from her cunt and teasingly spread a few slick drops of her warmly seeping feminine excitement down over the softly pulsating lips of her rectal mouth.
Then, as Rosemary quivered in astonishment beneath him, he slowly, teasingly, pressed the tip of his finger inward.
"Oh!" the surprised young blonde gasped in incomprehension. "My God, Pete! What... what are you doing?"
The passionately aroused young wife was taken completely off guard by this new and titillating sensation. She couldn't even decide if it felt good or if it hurt, but the sheer masochistic stimulation was almost more than she could resist, and she immediately began to grind her smoothly undulating buttocks in a wilder circular motion as a shattering wave of salacious passion swept over her, and he wormed his relentlessly impaling finger all the way up to the first knuckle in her helplessly cringing little asshole.
"Oooooooh yes!" she moaned out deliriously as Pete began to work his finger in and out of her tightly clinging rectal passage in time with his cock fucking in and out of her cunt. "Oh yes. Do it to me like that! Do it with your finger! Deeper! Deeper!"
Pete was only too happy to comply. He finger-fucked viciously in and out of the quivering tightness of his teenage wife's eagerly absorbing young anal passage, simultaneously fucking her body with heavily shattering lunges as he buried his cock again and again up to the hilt in her hotly working little pussy. He launched the full force of his primitive animal lust on her almost virginal young body, and the power and frenzy of his attack drove Rosemary beyond the point of no return. She was going to cum. Any moment she was going to cum.
And a split-second later it began. The wildly growing sensations of passion deep up in her finger-filled rectal walls intensified until she could hardly bear it, then seemed miraculously to merge with the sheer ecstasy she derived from the continuing assault on her cunt by her husband's pile-driving cock. Her body tensed and her mind blanked. For a moment she didn't even know who she was, or where she was. She knew nothing but the consuming, blinding delight of the orgasm building out of control through her loins. She opened her eyes, staring blankly up at Pete's lust-strained face. She winced as he launched a sudden hard-racking series of staccato thrusts, his cum-swollen balls relinquishing the sperm that bloated them. She opened her mouth, kissing him hungrily, sucking his tongue almost to her throat as his white-hot cum began its maddening dash up the elongated shaft of his cock. The head of his penis pulsed furiously up into her cunt as he drove into her to maximum depth, and his searing semen burst forth like a cannon shot, mingling with her own freely flowing vaginal fluids.
Beneath him, Rosemary seemed to almost levitate from the bed as she racked and tossed in a wild frenzy of delight to the shattering waves of orgasm that consumed the whole of her nakedly twisting body. She screamed and whimpered out of control now, her hands clawing wildly at his back as spasm after spasm of crazed, untamed orgasm rippled through her ravished loins. Their mutual climax seemed to go on and on, a soul-shattering explosion that lifted them out of themselves and faded slowly away. Then the blonde-haired teenage wife let her breath escape in a sigh, and Pete sagged down tiredly upon her, his cock still buried deep up in her loins. They lay like that for several moments, then gradually his massive penis began to deflate. He kissed her once on the lips, then slowly withdrew and rolled off to lie, still panting heavily, close beside her, thoughts of the voluptuous woman in the Continental still drifting through his mind.
CHAPTER TWO
Pete Flowers stamped the credit card and returned it to the salesman in the new Chevrolet. He watched the bright yellow vehicle move away, then crossed the drive and walked into the glass-walled station where Gus Craig, his partner on the day-shift, sat with his feet propped on the desk. Pete paused in the door, leaning against the frame, and removed a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and inserted it between his lips. He struck a kitchen match on his thumbnail and was in the process of lighting it when he heard the roar of an engine behind him and the jingling of the bell that signaled the arrival of another customer.
"Would you get a load of that dish," Gus said, dropping his feet from the desk and leaning forward. "Take a rest, kid. I'll get this one."
Pete glanced casually over his shoulder, then stiffened. Parked beside the pumps was a red MG. The driver was the same sexy-looking brunette who'd been with the man in the Continental the other day. She was leaning across the door on Pete's side, peering out at him, smiling in that same teasing, mischievous way he'd found it impossible to ignore. His eyes met hers. For a brief moment her gaze descended the length of his body. She was looking at him as if he were a piece of merchandise she was thinking of purchasing, and if he hadn't found the idea too incredible to believe, Pete would have sworn for a moment at least the focal point of her appraising gaze was the front of his trousers. She was looking at him almost as if she were a bitch in heat and didn't mind admitting it.
Then, aware Gus was moving up behind him and about to come through the door, Pete shifted his position, blocking his co-worker's path without ever turning away from the brunette in the little sports-car. "I'll take this one," he said tersely, exerting an uncommon authority contradictory to his custom of letting Gus pretty much have his way around the station. "I know her."
"You know her?" Gus croaked under his breath, but Pete walked across the drive without answering, without looking back.
"Hello, Pete Flowers," the woman said with a carefree gaiety that somehow belied the sultry look in her black eyes. "Do you remember me?"
"Yes, ma'am," Pete managed, feeling almost the same awkwardness he'd experienced the other day, though now it was not quite as bad since she was alone, without the man who'd had a way of looking down at him that had made his discomfort all the worse.
"Could you fill it up, please. And do all those other things you fellows always do."
"Yes, ma'am." Pete hurriedly started the gas running into the tank, leaving it on automatic, checked the oil and then set about cleaning the windshield, conscious all the time of the woman looking at him, her eyes studying him, studying ids face, his body, looking at him as if he was on display and making him feel so uncomfortable that he couldn't even think of meeting her gaze - though at the same time he found it impossible to keep from staring at the fullness of her breasts straining against her blouse and at the shapely contours of her half-exposed thighs, and it seemed almost as if she had intentionally pulled up her skirt almost revealing her panties. Then the pump clicked off and he poured a last couple of squirts of gas into the tank.
"The oil's fine," Pete said in a husky voice. He remembered he'd said the same thing in almost exactly the same words the last time he'd seen this woman and found himself worrying nervously, absurdly, that she might think this was all he could say. And still she was just sitting there, looking at him, making no move to go. "Anything else?" he asked after a moment.
"I might pay you."
"Oh!" Pete said, feeling even more stupid. "That's... four-sixty," he quickly read the meter on the pump.
The woman produced a credit card and Pete went to record it, noting as he did so that the card was in the name of Mr. Paul A. Jarvis. He studied the name again as he returned to the car, then handed it back to her. And still she just sat there looking at him. She gazed at him, now, for what seemed a long time. Then she shifted her attention suddenly to the door of the station, where Gus stood against the background of glass, openly gawking at her.
"That man, Peter. Why is he staring at me?"
"Hunh?" The question somehow had not registered on Pete's mind.
"Why is he staring at me?"
"Oh." Pete turned also to peer in the same direction. Gus frowned. Pete made a gesture with his head and after a moment his partner shrugged, turned away and went back into the station. "That's just Gus," he said, feeling foolish.
"I can call you Peter?" the woman asked. "I mean, Peter must be your real name?"
"Well, yes, ma'am. Though nobody's called me that in a long time."
"I like it," the woman said, looking at him again. She flicked her tongue out to moisten her lips. "It suits you." She smiled. "If you know what I mean," she added, then turned to peer toward the soft drinks and coffee and hot chocolate machines situated to the left of the station doorway. "Do those machines work? The coffee, I mean."
"Pete frowned. "The coffee? Uh... yeah, sure. The coffee works and... and you get it anyway you want it, you know, cream, sugar and cream or black or just sugar. However you want it."
"Do you mind if I get out and have a cup?" The sensuous brunette smiled wickedly as Pete's mouth dropped open in surprise. "I mean, would I be interrupting your work?"
"My work? No, ma'am!"
Awkwardly Pete opened the door, his eyes fastened inadvertently on the suddenly exposed area between her half-parted thighs as she stepped out of the car. The dark-haired woman cast him another teasing smile, standing so close to him the tips of her voluptuously upthrust breasts almost brushed his bare arm. She made no move to step away from him, and at last it was Pete who out of sheer embarrassment at his own building excitement felt compelled to move away. Then, with a carefree little toss of her head, she turned and walked, her shapely buttocks swinging a rhythmically provocative manner, across the station to the automatic vending machines. Pete stood frozen where he was, staring open-mouthed at the sexy woman, and belatedly remembered himself and hurried after her. He caught her just as she reached the machines and fumbled hastily in his pocket for a coin to buy her coffee.
Doreen Jarvis pushed the button for a black coffee with sugar, doing her best to conceal her amusement as the young man fidgeted in nervous silence before her. When the cup was filled she put it up to her full, sensuous lips, and, ovaling her mouth suggestively, took a sip, again looking over his lean muscular build in the same almost lascivious manner. Then her eyes returned to his handsome face. "You don't say much, do you?" she asked in a low, husky drawl that sent a strange coursing up the youth's spine. "I guess you're kind of the strong, silent type."
Pete swallowed hard, almost visibly squirming. He had never met a woman like this before, and he felt like an awkward, bumbling kid. When most of his buddies were going out with a different girl every weekend, he'd been steadily dating Rosemary. Rosemary had come to be not only the woman in his life, but Womanhood to him. He could talk to her. She knew him and understood him and he knew he could say anything he wanted to Rosemary without appearing dull or uneducated. And if he didn't want to say anything to her, he didn't have to speak. That was one of the strongest aspects of the bond between them. They were just as comfortable together in silence as they were when speaking. But this strange woman wasn't Rosemary. She was a good-looking, obviously experienced woman. For some reason she was interested in him, and he was thrilled with that fact. But he was at a total loss with her; he couldn't think of anything to say. Her questions and remarks kept him off-balance all the time, and he felt like a complete idiot. He had an almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and grab her, jamming his mouth against hers and crushing those luscious-looking melon-like breasts against his chest... but he knew he would never dare do something as reckless as all that.
"Well?" the woman prompted.
Pete gazed at her desperately, then looked away, his eyes finally coming to rest on the MG. "You and you're husband must do... uh... pretty good to have a couple of cars like those?" It sounded stupid, he thought. "I mean, not everybody has a Continental and an MG." It still sounded stupid. "I... uh... I guess he is your husband, isn't he?"
Pete looked at her left hand, at the wedding band on her finger.
"Yes, he's my husband. Paul. But I'm afraid the cars aren't ours. All we own is an old Plymouth." She paused, waiting for Pete's response. But he only watched her in awkward silence, the unconcealed hunger in his eyes sending a lascivious thrill of anticipation rippling through her loins. "Paul sells used cars in San Diego. The Continental and the MG are both from the lot. It's sort of a fringe benefit." She paused again. "Paul is one of the hottest salesmen around. He says he could sell a rotten lemon to a citrus farmer and I imagine it's true."
She waited with a teasing smile on her soft red lips while Pete fidgeted silently. "Yeah," he finally ventured, "he... uh... he looked like pretty much of a go-getter."
Doreen laughed softly and, sticking out her little pink tongue, licked the rim of the paper up before taking another sip of her coffee. "I'm sure he'd be pleased to hear you say that. He's a very ambitious man, my husband, and I suppose by the time we're old we will be rich enough to own a couple of automobiles like the ones we're driving now." She stared at Pete through narrowing eyes. "And you?"
Pete frowned. "Me?"
"Well what about you? Certainly a good-looking and intelligent young man like yourself doesn't plan on spending his whole life pumping gas?"
Pete was staring at her in utter confusion. "I don't guess I ever really thought about it."
"Really? Come now. You must have some secret desires." Doreen watched the young man expectantly, enjoying his nervousness; then, realizing that he was probably serious, abruptly relented, she regretting making him so uncomfortable. "Forget that," she said softly, reaching up to place her hand on his shoulder. "I was just teasing you."
"I... I dropped out of high school when Rosemary and I got engaged," Pete said apologetically, though his lack of a diploma had never in the past caused him either shame or worry.
"Oh, that's nothing," Doreen soothed. "Paul never actually finished high school either. He joined the Marines when he was sixteen or so and just took a test. Anyway... Rosemary is your wife's name? She must be lovely... to have landed you?"
"Yes," Pete said quickly, sensing this was a bad turn for the conversation to take; he didn't want to talk about his wife - not right now - yet he felt compelled to answer her question. "She... everybody always thought of her as the best-looking girl in school. We started going steady when we were just kids."
Doreen licked her lips suggestively and said, "You probably have a picture of her in your wallet, don't you?"
"Yeah, I guess I do." Damn it, Pete thought to himself. How did he ever let her get him started talking about Rosemary?
"Could I see it?"
Pete sighed and pulled out his wallet. He thumbed the series of cellophane photo-holders, selected a close-up facial shot of his wife, taken less than a year ago, and held it reluctantly out to the smiling brunette.
"Yes," Doreen said. "She is beautiful. She looks so innocent, so virginal." Before Pete could resist, the woman took the wallet from his trembling hand and continued to thumb through the photo's, almost all of which featured Rosemary, though sometimes he also appeared with her in the pictures. After a moment Doreen paused to closely examine a picture of the tall blonde girl in her cheer-leader's uniform, which completely revealed her long golden thighs. "And a nice figure, too. She's built like a New York fashion model except for her breasts."
Pete swallowed hard as the woman handed the wallet back to him. He stuffed it swiftly back into his pocket, turning his attention to the semi that was creeping up the drive toward the pumps. Staring at him with a mixture of envy and reproach, Gus moved across the drive to service it, and Pete looked helplessly back at the sexy brunette, who'd finished her coffee and was dumping the empty cup in the waste can.
"You're probably very much in love with her," she said, her voice so devoid of inflection Pete didn't know if the remark was meant as a statement or a question. "And I bet she's very much in love with you, too? I bet you're the only man she's ever had?"
"I... I guess," Pete said.
Doreen smiled. "I guess I'd better go."
Pete stood frozen where he was, almost as if he were hypnotized, as he watched her turn and walk slowly back toward the sports-car. He stared dry-mouthed at her swaying buttocks, and swallowing again, then called hastily, "Miss?"
Just before her car the dark-haired woman stopped and looked back. "Yes?"
"Will I see you again?" he croaked.
She smiled seductively. "Yes. Tomorrow afternoon I'd like to bring my car in for a grease job. Will that be all right?"
"Sure," Pete said eagerly. "Sure it will. I'll do it myself."
"No," Doreen Jarvis said. "I don't want to have to wait around. I'd like to leave it overnight. You can drive me home if you don't mind. What time do you get off."
Pete gulped and managed to say, "Six,"
"I'll see you then."
* * *
"Take the freeway east," Doreen Jarvis said as Pete Flowers slid into the driver's seat of his station wagon. "It's the Vista Verde exit and from there just a couple of minutes to my place."
"I've got a little time," Pete said. "I warned Rosemary I'd be an hour late."
An hour, Doreen thought, studying Pete's handsome profile as he turned the vehicle around. I'm afraid an hour won't be quite long enough for what I have in mind for you today young man. But I suppose I can persuade you to stay a few minutes extra.
Pete ignored Gus Craig's envious leer as he drove past the front of the station. He eased carefully onto the freeway and headed east, as directed, acutely conscious of the inviting presence of the woman in the seat beside him. Doreen, as she'd finally got around to introducing herself, was really looking sexier than ever today. And though he kept telling himself he could look but not touch, Pete couldn't completely convince himself that she hadn't dressed this way just for his benefit. She was wearing a lacy low-cut blouse that completely exposed the soft, smoothly tanned skin of her shoulders and revealed the luxuriously contoured upper portions of her breasts almost to the nipples. Her short skirt lay teasingly against her smooth thighs, and he couldn't get the picture out of his mind of the way a little gust of wind had swept her skirt up as they were walking toward the car, giving him a briefly tantalizing view of her perfectly formed ass-cheeks, barely covered by a skimpy pair of see-through bikini panties.
"I guess we both have a little free time then," Doreen remarked after a moment.
"Hunh?" Pete glanced at her nervously out of the corner of his eye, his gaze dropping for just the briefest instant down to the softly curved mounds of her half-exposed breasts.
"Paul is going to be tied up in town until late," she explained.
"Oh," the young husband croaked, not sure what she had in mind... if anything.
"Otherwise," Doreen went on, carefully studying his face for a reaction, "he could have picked me up at the station."
"That's... uh... that's too bad," Pete said. Then he stiffened as the sexy-looking young woman reached up and put her hand softly on the back of his neck, fumbling with curls of his thick black hair.
"Yes," she sighed. "Isn't it, though?"
Pete wished she hadn't put her hand on his neck. She was so damned sexy-looking, it was all he could do to keep himself from practically raping her, anyway, and she was only making it all the harder to keep himself under control. He tried to concentrate on his driving. In a couple of minutes the first signs of the designated exit appeared, and after they'd left the freeway, he followed her directions through the new housing development.
"On the right here," said Doreen, indicating a fashionable ranch-style house with adjoining garage. "Just pull into the drive," she added as Pete was easing the station wagon to a halt.
He cast another nervous glance out of the corner of his eye and pulled up in the concrete drive, then stopped. "Well. Here you are."
Doreen smiled. "Don't be silly. I'm not the kind of woman who's going to let a man drive her this far out of his way without inviting him in for a drink. So come on."
"Well, I guess," Pete said hesitantly, turning off the ignition. "If you're sure it's all right."
Without answering, the dark-haired young woman stepped out of the car and walked swiftly to the front entrance of the house. Pete took a deep breath, staring lustfully at the inviting wiggles of her tightly formed buttocks, then, he muttered half-aloud, "Easy boy... we don't want to get in any trouble." And, trying to keep his mind off the sexiness of his dark-haired passenger, he got out and followed.
Inside, the house was comfortably furnished and modern. Doreen led the handsome young gas-station attendant to the family room and, indicating that she wanted him to take a seat on the couch, she went toward the bar, asking, "What's your poison?"
"Just a beer if you have it."
'"Fraid not," she smiled back. "I'll make that two whiskies with soda."
The sexy-looking brunette poured the drinks and came over to the couch. She handed one of them to Pete and placed the other on the low, glass-topped coffee table, then moved around it and settled down beside him, so close that their arms almost touched. In sitting down, somehow her short skirt rode even farther up her naked thighs. The hem lay right at the leg band of her brief panties, and the maddening thought of her pussy being concealed by nothing but that thin layer of almost transparent silk was enough to send Pete's cock lurching excitedly in his tightly confining pants. His breath quickened, and he could feel his heart pounding frantically. The teenage youth felt a surge of anguish coursing through his brain, he was desperately afraid he was going to be unable to control his body... that he was going to get a big old hard on, and he knew he'd never be able to conceal. But whatever would this older woman think of him? God! She'd think he was nothing but some kind of a sex maniac!
"What are you thinking about?"
Pete started, her voice interrupting his anguished thoughts, and now he realized that all this time he'd been staring at her naked thighs and looking right up under her skirt! In agonized embarrassment, he turned to face her, and he was surprised to find her leaning so close toward him that their faces almost touched. He even could feel her breath blowing softly on his lips. Looking quickly away, his eyes fastened on the full swells of her nearly exposed breasts, and the sight caused his rapidly expanding cock to twitch wildly inside the tightly constricting confines of his trousers.
"Come on," she purred. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm just . ; . a man," Pete muttered apologetically.
The dark-haired woman watched him through sensually narrowed eyes, her own forbidden excitement building swiftly in her lewdly aroused young body. Pete Flowers, it seemed, was even more innocent than she'd thought. Even now he still hadn't completely gotten the message, and for a moment she felt a slight twinge of remorse at what she was about to do. After all, if he was content to work for peanuts pumping gas the rest of his life, he would probably be equally content to remain faithful to the sexy young wife whose photographs he'd shown her. They were probably what people like to call "happily married." So who was she to interfere? But she had her own feminine needs, and she'd made up her mind the first time she'd seen him that she was going to have him. Now that the time had come, she wasn't about to thwart her passionate hunger just because of outmoded moral considerations.
"I know you're just a man," Doreen whispered lustfully. "So?"
"So it's pretty hard for me to... ," Pete began, then his voice trailed off as he swallowed loudly.
"Is it hard?" the lust-driven young brunette teased. "Is it really all that hard?" Her hand settled on his firm thigh, barely an inch from this burgeoning cock.
Pete stared at her almost in shock. He could see from the look in her sparkling black eyes that now she was doing more than teasing him. She was challenging him, and though he knew he wasn't being fair to Rosemary, his own lustful need was far beyond control. He could just barely restrain himself.
"What are you going to do, Pete?" Doreen prompted, leaning forward another inch so that just the tip of one of her lust-swollen breasts pressed against his arm, sending on electric-like thrill of lust racing through his body.
Pete was silent for a few seconds, his eyes widening, seeming to glaze over, as he stared at her face, then down to her succulent-looking breasts and her smooth thighs, and again at her face. When he spoke it was through her teeth in a low, hoarse voice. "Lady, if you don't get away from me right now, I'm just going to fuck the living hell out of you!"
"Oh yes," the aroused brunette whispered, moving just a fraction closer to him.
Pete slammed his drink down on the table and moved suddenly forward, grinding his lips down over Doreen's mouth, over the full mound of one of her breasts, his other hand thrusting rapidly up between her thighs to press up against the smoldering plane of her softly haired cunt which was completely unprotected except for the thin material of her skimpy panties.
"Ooooh," Doreen moaned, surrendering hungrily to his sudden aggression. She parted her full lips eagerly, sucking Pete's gluttonously searching tongue willingly into her mouth as she felt the probing fingers of his right hand forcing their way down into the top of her blouse to begin to tweak almost viciously at the sensitively tingling little bud of her nipple. At the same time the fingers of his other hand drew aside the legband of her panties, and a low moan swelled from deep in her throat as she felt his middle index finger thrusting out to press itself up into the full length of her already warmly moistened cuntal-slit.
Pete was trembling all over and he could feel his massive cock lurching to full erection inside his trousers, straining to be free. In his arms, the voluptuous young woman's body seemed to be melting in total surrender. One of her full breasts was crushed hard against his chest, even as he continued to tweak and massage the tingling bud of her other nipple, and, with his other hand, he could feel the fiery heat and freely flowing moisture of her quivering cunt as the little slit parted defenselessly before the relentless pressure of his searching finger.
Then Pete pulled his lips away from Doreen's. He stared wild-eyed down at her lust-contorted face, his hand slipping out of the front of her blouse to quickly fumble at the buttons, pulling the lacy white material apart and pushing the half-cup brassiere downward until suddenly both the succulent-looking nipple-peaked mounds burst into freedom.
The squirming brunette gave a low sigh as the teenage youth bent down to swallow one of her passionately swollen little nipples into his mouth. His tongue lashed out like a whip of fire, prompting the straining nub to an even greater tingling rigidity. Now his hand up between her thighs was working feverishly at her steaming little cunt, his fingers parting the hair-lined lips and beginning to probe urgently at the entrance of the still softly resisting little orifice, and at the same time she could feel him beginning to push forward against her, trying to shove her down on her back on the couch. Once he'd moved into action, it seemed Pete wasn't about to waste any time at all. But Doreen had plans of her own. Maybe he intended to throw her down and fuck her, getting it over with quickly so he could get back to his young wife, but the unfaithful dark-haired housewife wanted more than that. She'd been dreaming about how she would seduce this handsome animal of a young man ever since the first time she'd seen him. She'd worked the whole fantasy out in her mind, and she was determined to go through with it the way she'd planned, even if she had to struggle to get her way.
"Wait," Doreen gasped, resisting as Pete increased his efforts to push her down on her back. She held his face cradled against her naked breast, and she looked down through passion-narrowed eyes as he sucked and licked greedily at first one tingling nipple and then the other, his outstretched middle finger surging relentlessly deeper and deeper up into the lustfully sucking tightness of her cunt. Hugging his face even tighter into the voluptuously deep valley between her full breasts, she reached down to the front of his uniform, fumbling desperately until she was able to undo the zipper, and she pushed him back away from her completely. Then, as he gasped in eager anticipation, she slipped her hand into his open fly, cupping it around his fervently pulsing cock, and worked it slowly out to freedom.
A low moan of approval sounded on the aroused brunette's lips as she stared down at the exposed and visibly throbbing instrument of lust-hardened flesh. With appreciative eyes, she saw that it was a massive cock, almost as big as her husband's and tenderly she stroked the foreskin back to expose the glistening expanse of the reddish-purple head. Her eager fingers drew the pliant flesh as far down the shaft as it would go, causing a spontaneous groan to spring from deep in Pete's throat as she slid the loose foreskin back up to cover the bulbous head where she could see a tiny drop of pre-cum fluid seeping appetizingly from the hole in the tip.
"Damn! Pete gasped, squirming on the couch, and abruptly pulling his finger from her smoldering cuntal area, he cupped and massaged the voluptuously exposed mounds of Doreen's lusciously exposed breasts.
Her massaging hand clung tightly to his turgidly throbbing cock, relishing his building excitement as she felt it twitch to greater hardness in her palm. Then, she scooted her near-naked buttocks back away from him on the couch and leaned over his lap, slowly lowering her lips hungrily down toward the distended and upthrust rod of mouth-watering flesh.
Inches away, the lust-crazed woman hesitated briefly. Again she peeled the foreskin back and blew her hot breath down over his naked cock-head, a lascivious twinkle coming into her eyes as she gazed at the little drop of seminal fluid that had oozed from the slitted glans. Then her tongue flicked out to eagerly lap it up, wantonly relishing its musky taste. Then she plunged her head lower and took the whole bulbous head in between her velvety lips and sucked the spongy cock-head into the warm cavern of her wet mouth. She moaned as though with the despair of a lost soul as she tightened her full lips and ravenously sucked his desire-bloated cock-shaft into the welcoming depths of her mouth.
"Ooooooohh," came the muffled croon from deep in her throat as Doreen struggled to fit her cruelly stretched lips around the lust-swollen bulk of his inviting young rod of flesh. She probed her hand down through the open fly of Pete's trousers again to cup his sperm-filled testicles, feeling her now neglected cunt burning with love-starved passion as it was momentarily deprived of his titillating caresses. But she continued her oral manipulations without restraint, sucking and licking like a madwoman as she felt the younger man begin to hunch and buck up on the couch, fucking his thick cock up into her working mouth. Then his hands were suddenly entangled in her hair, forcing her face down so tightly to his loins she almost gagged from the pressure of the plunging cock-head rammed against the back of her throat. She stiffened as she heard the gasps bursting uncontrollably from his lips, and with a sudden surge of almost inhuman strength, she freed herself from his grasp, raising her head up to let the straining shaft slip from her lips, and she lay down on her back with a sigh as she observed his angry, shocked face. Now, she thought, he was really aroused and ready to go. He was angry as an enraged animal and she could tell from the crazed look in his eyes that after what she'd just done to him he would give her every bit of the wild and merciless fucking she'd been dreaming about since she'd first seen him.
"Now, Pete," Doreen purred, arching her buttocks up from the couch and peeling her tight bikini panties quickly down the full length of her firm thighs, leaving her short skirt bunched uselessly at her waist and completely exposing to his lustful gaze the silken black triangle of hair that adorned the plane of her pubis and the little pink slit of her already lewdly moistened cunt. "Now, come on and fuck me. Fuck me like the animal you are."
Pete winced slightly at the challenging remark. He vaguely wondered if "animal" was supposed to be a compliment or a slur, but the way he felt right now it hardly seemed to matter. He'd forced Rosemary to hesitantly kiss and lick his cock a few times, but he'd never had a blow job like this - and now she'd stopped before she'd finished, just when it was getting really good. He didn't think his cock had ever been as hard as it was right now. He could almost feel the cum straining to burst free from his swollen balls, and he knew if she hadn't quit when she did, he could have cum right in her mouth. In angry frustration, the muscular young man unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants and shorts down to his knees. As he reclined toward the woman's half-naked but totally surrendered body, briefly had a twinge of guilt: this would be the first time since they were married that he'd ever been unfaithful to his wife. But, as the dark-haired woman's arms came up to pull him quickly down between her widespread thighs, he forgot his momentary stab of conscience and Rosemary altogether.
"Yes," Doreen purred as she felt his rock-hard male shaft of flesh surge up against her naked and lewdly moistened pussy. "Yes, come on, you brute, fuck me! Fuck me like I've never been fucked before." Then she gasped, her whole body stiffening as the pressure against her little cunt-hole was increased. With a deeper groan, Pete lunged suddenly forward, and she let her breath out in a low sigh, squirming sensuously beneath him as she felt the resistance give way and the head of Pete's cock popped into her welcoming cunt. Then he stabbed forward again and, with a long sliding movement, the bludgeoning shaft of flesh surged up into her streaming pussy relentlessly deeper pushing aside the walls of her urgently clasping inner cunt until the entire massive length of his invading cock was embedded up in her to the very hilt.
Now Pete heaved out a deep sigh, lying still upon her impaled body for a brief moment. "Goddamn, that's tight," he grunted as he felt Doreen flex her warm inner muscles softly around his throbbing hardness. Then, her hands roving up over his back, she began to slowly squirm and undulate her buttocks. As he adjusted to the exquisite and vice-like tightness, Pete also began to move his body. He thrust in and out with increasingly faster strokes, feeling their pelvic flesh slap resoundingly together as she strained back beneath him. The mewling dark-haired woman arched her naked loins up to meet his ramming cock, moaning incessantly and biting hungrily at his lips as both of them began quickly to lose control.
"Oh yes," Doreen whimpered pleading leg. "Come on! Don't hold back! Don't hold back!"
Pete could hardly believe it. He'd only begun fucking her a minute or so ago, and already it seemed she was ready to cum. He'd never seen Rosemary get so excited so quickly, and she was clinging to him tightly, her lovely long legs wrapped around his buttocks her strong thighs squeezing his slim hips, slacking and clamping as her hungry pussy milked his pistoning cock with maddeningly spasmodic clenchings. She thrust her face up, her lips feverishly meeting his to again suck his tongue deep in toward her throat. Then she let her head fall back on the cushion, and she watched him with dreamy eyes as he built his own thrusting lunges to a staccato, ascending to a violent shattering crescendo as she wailed her assent.
"Yes! Cum in me, cum in me!"
A moment later it happened. Pete felt Doreen's fingernails tearing at the skin of his back as she pulled her thighs up until her knees rested against her shoulders, presenting him with a stretched and widely gaping fissure of moistly hair-lined flesh as he rolled into her with pile-driving thrusts. Her mouth fell open, working fish-like, her nostrils flaring and her dark eyes glazing over. Then she emitted a sudden shrill squeal, dropping her legs down to plant her feet on the couch for leverage. She was bucking frenziedly up against him, her working body shuddering uncontrollably with a wild orgasm as she squealed and gasped out her ecstasy. Her tight-fitting pussy clasped and relaxed convulsively around this deep-slamming cock as his fiery cum raced from the sanctuary of his balls to spurt in white-hot jets far up in the depths of her quavering womb.
At last the frenzy passed, and Pete heaved out his breath, his body sagging heavily on Doreen, who lay trembling gently beneath him, her hand now stroking tenderly across his back on the outside of his shirt. For a moment he thought of nothing. Then he reminded himself of his conquest. Silently, he congratulated himself - though Rosemary was a disturbing shadow in the back of his mind. The woman beneath him seemed to him now to be hardly even human, just a piece of nameless female flesh that was of no further value or use. His vague thoughts grew muddled and he almost dozed. It seemed he was just drifting into a dream when he felt the woman stiffen and raise her head. He opened his eyes, returning abruptly to full consciousness and staring down at her face with alarm as he heard a car engine outside, and then the opening and closing of the car door.
"That's Paul," Doreen said, though seemingly without alarm. "Here, we'd better straighten ourselves out a little before he comes in."
"A little?" Pete stammered with amazement, jerking his half-deflated cock from her cunt with a wet popping sound, and he quickly started to pull up his trousers as Doreen kicked her panties underneath the couch and worked the cups of her brassiere back up over the luscious mounds of her breasts. Noting the cum-stains on the cushion of the couch, Pete slid over to sit on the damp spot as a means of keeping it concealed. Doreen pulled her skirt down and managed to halfway button her blouse. She was just handing him his glass of whiskey, the ice now melted, when they heard the front door open and Paul Jarvis's heavy footsteps coming down the hall.
"Jesus Christ," Pete whispered. Then he turned to stare in alarm at the woman, whose face was still conspicuously flushed from her orgasm, as she reached over to take his hand in hers. She squeezed it tightly, then released it just as her husband came in.
"Paul!" Doreen said, rising.
Jarvis stopped just inside the door, looking first at his wife, then at Pete.
"You remember Pete Flowers, don't you Paul," the brunette said, moving around the table and walking toward the tall, broad-shouldered thirty-five-year-old man. "I was telling you he was going to have the MG greased for me."
"Oh yeah!" Paul exclaimed as if he'd remembered only with the help of prompting something he should have known immediately.
"Peter," Doreen said. "Come and shake hands with Paul." She laughed gaily. "How do you like that? Peter and Paul. If I were only... what was her name?" She paused, looking back at Pete, who remained where he was, sitting on the cum stain on the couch. "Come on, Peter. Don't be bashful."
Reluctantly Pete stood. He lifted his drink to his lips and downed a good shot. He tried to block the view of the stain as he moved toward Doreen's husband. Shaking his hand, Pete could hardly meet his eyes, and he couldn't believe it wasn't perfectly obvious what had been happening. He couldn't understand how the man could miss it. Couldn't a guy tell by looking when his wife had just been fucked?
"Peter was kind enough to drive me back here," Doreen explained with a casualness Pete found incomprehensible. "I thought it only fair I offer him a drink for his trouble."
"By all means!" said Jarvis. He smiled at Pete. "Doreen tells me you've been servicing her."
"Paul!" Doreen chided.
"Servicing the MG, I mean," the man added with a burst of raucous laughter.
"Yes, s - sir," Pete stammered nervously. "We're always... uh... glad to have regular customers." He looked away, quickly downed the rest of his drink, and turned to set the glass on the table. "I... I'd better get going. I told my wife I'd be an hour late and by the time I get home the... the hour will be up."
"Of course," said Jarvis. "Don't want to keep the little lady waiting."
"Well, good day, sir. Ma'am," Pete said, starting to move awkwardly toward the door.
"Doreen tells me she's quite a dish," Jarvis said.
Pete stopped, knitting his brows as he tried to evaluate the remark.
"I was wondering if you two would like to have dinner with us here on Friday evening? Dinner and drinks, you know."
Pete frowned. Paul Jarvis was staring straight into his eyes. He didn't know what to say. None of it made sense, and he felt at the same time suspicious and guilty.
"What do you say, Pete?" Doreen urged.
Pete opened his mouth to refuse, but no words came. How could he accept a dinner invitation from a man who's wife he'd just fucked? By the same token, how could he turn it down?
"But... I just don't know why you'd want to invite us to dinner?" Pete managed at last. "And... and Rosemary, you don't even know her. She's kind of shy and I'm afraid she might be... she might be uncomfortable." He fell silent, noting the look of amused reproach Doreen flashed him. She obviously understood. What he'd really meant was that he would be uncomfortable.
"Listen, Pete," Jarvis said in a patronizing voice. He walked over and put his hand on Pete's shoulder, and gazing seriously down into the younger man's eyes. "Doreen probably mentioned I'm in the used car business?"
"Yes."
"And being in that business, I've got what you might call an unnatural respect for automobiles, the ones I'm responsible for, that is. I respect my cars the same way I respect my bank account, or my home. Almost the same way I respect my wife and... myself." He waited for this to sink in, not a glimmer of humor showing on his face. "Now I want to know my banker personally. I want to know personally anybody who comes into my home, my castle. I want to know my wife's friends personally, and I do know you are getting to be a friend of my wife. And I want to know personally the man who is taking care of my automobiles. And that's you." He paused. "So now you understand why I must insist you accept my hospitality."
Pete looked down at the floor. "I - I guess so," he said after a moment.
"So we'll see you here Friday. Eight o'clock all right with you?"
Pete bit his lip. "Yeah, that's fine. Eight o'clock." He cast a quick furtive look at Doreen, then turned quickly and went out the door.
Paul Jarvis listened to the youth's footsteps growing quieter as he went down the hall. He waited for the door to slam before he turned away, walked to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink. Only after he'd taken a long gulp did he look at his wife, who'd been observing him with amusement since the moment Pete was out of their sight.
"Well?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I guess you figure you've set the trap, hunh? Paul Jarvis, the great white hunter."
"Yeah," Jarvis said and drank again. "If you want to play games, I'll play games. No punk kid like that screws my woman without putting up something up in return. And don't you think I can't see your panties sticking out from beneath the end of the sofa. The only thing I'm worried about now - his wife better be as good looking as you said."
"She is," said Doreen. "But I don't think she'll be easy."
"I don't like 'em easy."
CHAPTER THREE
It had begun to rain, and Pete Flowers squinted through the windshield, almost blinded by the headlights of the stream of automobiles coming in the opposite direction. He was nervous, on edge, troubled by an inner turmoil he couldn't quite conceal. Rosemary regarded him tenderly and reached up to place her hand lightly on his shoulder. Dressed up in a low-cut black gown with only thin straps over her shoulders, she was radiantly beautiful tonight.
"What's the matter, Pete?" she asked softly, squeezing her husband's arm through the material of his sport-coat. It was the same coat, she reflected, that he'd worn two years ago when he'd taken her to the junior prom. Though he'd put on a little weight, he hadn't really grown since then. And though he'd paid over eighty dollars for the gown she was wearing, he'd bought almost nothing new for himself since they'd been married - except of course necessary work clothing. "What's the matter, Honey?" Rosemary repeated.
"Nothing."
The voluptuous blonde-haired teenager watched her husband intently, perceptively. She dropped her hand down to his thigh and leaned closer to him. "We didn't have to come," she said. "I mean, we can still turn around and go back. It was you who wanted to come."
He turned to look at her, his face tight with strain. For a moment his eyes dropped to the swells of her breasts, half-exposed by the low-cut gown, accented by a sparkling imitation diamond necklace. "Goddamn, you're beautiful," he croaked and turned his eyes back to the road.
Rosemary beamed. She squeezed his thigh, leaned over and kissed him on the neck, then settled back in her seat. What she'd said, she mused, wasn't quite correct. It had never been that Pete wanted to come. When he'd mentioned to her, a couple of nights ago, that one of his customers at the station had invited them to dinner, she'd had the vague feeling he wanted her to say no. In fact, she had offered a slight resistance to the idea, and though he'd insisted she felt even then he secretly hoped she would raise a stronger objection. But though she found Pete's having accepted the invitation completely contrary to his nature, as his socializing primarily consisted of nothing more than an occasional outing with a few of his high-school buddies, she'd had no real objection. She couldn't imagine how Pete had gotten himself invited to the home of this "older" couple, as he'd referred to them. But for her own part, she welcomed the chance to get out of the house and meet some new people.
They traveled in silence for a few more miles, then Pete slowed the station wagon and took the Vista Verde exit. As they pulled to a stop the before the ranch style house, Rosemary was astonished to see the two expensive-looking automobiles parked in the drive. For a moment it occurred to her that Pete must have made some very wealthy friends. Then she remembered that he'd said the man was a used car salesman and realized that probably explained his possession of these two luxury vehicles.
Pete got out and came around to open the door for her. Rosemary retrieved her plastic raincoat from the back seat, placed it over her head, and they hurried up the walk. As they ascended the steps a voluptuous brunette, younger than Rosemary had expected, opened the door to let them in.
"You must be Rosemary," the woman said warmly, taking her coat and looking her over in a way that made the younger housewife feel slightly uncomfortable. "Come on to the family room. We'll have a drink while Paul finishes getting the streaks ready. Oh, I hope you like fresh oysters. That's what we're having for openers."
Pete sipped his own drink nervously as the two women got acquainted over a pitcher of martinis. He noticed that Doreen Jarvis carried herself with perfect poise. She seemed completely unconcerned about what had happened between them the other day. It wasn't that she acted as if it hadn't happened; she acted simply as if it didn't matter, as if it were perfectly natural, and if she were the least bit concerned that Rosemary might suspect something, she didn't let it show. But of course Rosemary would suspect nothing. That was Rosemary's way. She was a little shy, but she opened up immediately to the other woman, the way she opened up to nearly everybody. That was her nature, and though it was a quality Pete liked in her, it was also occasionally disturbing. Rosemary naturally got a lot of attention from men, and that fact had always been a source of preoccupation for Pete. He was proud of her, proud to see men envious of him for having such a beautiful wife. But it disturbed him slightly that Rosemary enjoyed this attention. Not that she was inviting it, or playing tease. She enjoyed it simply, as a child enjoys praise.
The women were well into their second drink when Paul Jarvis made his appearance and announced that the steaks would be ready to broil as soon as they'd finished their oysters. He shook hands warmly with Pete, though there was a disturbing glint in his eye that the younger man couldn't quite comprehend. Then he turned his attention to the young blonde.
"Paul, this is Rosemary Flowers," Doreen said, getting up from the couch and taking Rosemary's hand. "I told you she was lovely. She's even lovelier than her pictures."
Pete shifted nervously on his feet . and took a long sip of his martini. Paul Jarvis winked at him briefly and looked back at Rosemary.
"The first time I saw Pete at the station," Paul said, taking her hand and holding it, his eyes devouring the softly exposed skin of her neck and upper breasts, "I said there's a young man who's nobody's fool. You're living proof that I wasn't wrong."
Rosemary blushed slightly. "Oh, thank you." She started to draw away, but Jarvis still clung to her hand. Observing this, Pete tightened his own hand around his glass until his knuckles turned white. He watched Jarvis reach up to lift the necklace away from Rosemary's golden flesh, examining it curiously before he dropped it back in place.
"Real, I presume?" Now he did release her hand.
"Oh no," Rosemary said. "I'm afraid it's just glass."
"On you they look better than diamonds."
* * *
Neither Pete nor Rosemary had ever indulged themselves with raw oysters, and if it hadn't been for the generous amount of gin they'd drunk before dinner they might have balked at trying them. But though Rosemary thought they looked hideously slimy, they did have a surprisingly pleasant flavor if swallowed with enough lemon juice. And, as Paul laughingly pointed out, there was always the chance of finding a pearl. The oysters were accompanied by a chilled white wine which, drunk on top of the martinis, was causing Rosemary to really loosen up. She gigglingly remarked that she thought raw oysters were supposed to be an aphrodisiac.
"That's a myth," Paul Jarvis explained. "It originated during the potato famine in Ireland. Everyone was underfed. But the high protein content in oysters usually gave a man enough strength to get it up after he'd eaten a few."
"Paul!" Doreen exclaimed. "Don't be crude."
Pete observed his giggling wife uncomfortably. "Honey," he whispered as Paul went out to cook the steaks in the barbecue he'd set up on the screened back porch, "don't drink so fast. Just take it easy, hunh?"
Red wine was served with the steaks and baked potatoes.
"A man in my business learns to appreciate a guy like Pete," Paul explained as they ate. He looked Rosemary in the eye. "You know, the world is still a jungle, the civilized world as much as what's left of the jungle itself. The civilized world is an artificial jungle. We created it because by nature we're jungle animals. And the used car business is a perfect microcosm of the jungle in the jungle."
"What's a microcosm?" Rosemary interrupted.
"A small world. A world within a world where the part is a perfect miniature of the whole." Rosemary obviously still didn't quite understand. Nor did Pete, though there was something about the trend of the conversation that bothered and flattered him at once. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew Pete Jarvis knew something he didn't know. He might have fucked Paul's wife. Paul's wife might have sucked his cock until he'd almost cum in her mouth. But Paul still seemed to know a lot more, and he was both impressed and upset. "I respect Pete," Paul went on. "The easiest thing to do is sell a car to a sucker. You wouldn't believe the things I pull on people. Maybe you wouldn't even approve.
But somebody's going to do it and I figure it might as well be me. But I know I could never sell Pete a lemon, and in my book that already gives him an edge on the world."
Pete grinned. He couldn't help feeling good. He did know cars, and he was glad to be recognized. He may not have finished high school, but there were a lot of guys who'd been to college even who didn't know as much about cars as he did. "Hell," Pete said, the wine finally getting to him. "There are doctors and lawyers who don't know as much about cars as I do!"
"See?" Jarvis bellowed, reaching across the table to shake Pete's hand. "Not only is he nobody's fool. He'd nobody's fool and he knows it!"
Rosemary tried to get Doreen to let her clear away the dishes, but their hostess absolutely refused to allow it. Dinner was followed by coffee with cognac, then at Paul's invitation they all retired to the family room again, where the Jarvis's wanted to show them films they'd made on an eight millimeter camera of their vacation the previous summer in Mexico. As Paul set up the screen, which consisted of a sheet hung on the wall, then placed the projector in position, Doreen hustled Pete and Rosemary to the couch and served them fresh glasses of cognac. She left the room and returned momentarily with several large cushions which she scattered about the floor.
"You can move down here if you get tired of the couch," she said before dousing the lights.
The color film featured a fiesta in a lovely old town called San Miguel Allende, which Paul explained celebrated the uprising against Spain in the first half of the Nineteenth Century. There was an elaborate fireworks display, some scenes of a bullfight which were bloody enough to make Rosemary almost cry in sympathy with the animal, films of Indians in bright native costumes and of street dancing - all interspersed with shots of Doreen and Paul hamming it up among the natives and their fellow tourists. Rosemary, feeling now very warm as a result of all the alcohol she'd drunk, snuggled warmly against Pete on the couch. When the first reel ended, Paul managed to start another without turning up the lights. This was filmed in the same town, though not during fiesta. After that reel ended he put on another, and when the screen lit up Rosemary almost jumped out of her seat.
There in living color was a girl, clad in nothing but a pair of panties and a skimpy garter belt, lying on a bed and looking sultry-eyed at the camera.
"Goddamn it!" Paul muttered under his breath, quickly reaching up to stop the projector.
"What was that?" Rosemary gasped, leaning forward to stare in the darkness down at her host and hostess.
"Paul," Doreen chided. "How could you?"
"What was it?" Rosemary insisted, giggling spontaneously as she anticipated the answer.
"It's a stag film," Doreen said as Paul flicked on the light. "An old stag film from Tijuana."
"Not the best in the world either," Paul said, smiling at the couple on the couch. "But it's all I have right now. My good stuff is loaned out to some friends of ours."
"We went to see "Deep Throat," Rosemary said proudly.
"Well, we can have a look at this one if you want to," Paul offered. "Whatta you say, Pete? You must have seen some of these Tijuana jobs at some time or another?"
Pete hesitated, aware that everyone in the room was watching him. He took another sip of his drink and laughed nervously. "I dunno. Rosemary?"
"Don't put Rosemary on the spot," Doreen said. "It's up to you."
For a moment Pete wondered if there was any danger in a stag film leading to a discussion that might cause Rosemary to suspect that something had happened between him and Doreen. But it hardly seemed likely. And it seemed that everyone else, even his own wife, did want to see the film. At last he shrugged. "I don't mind. Sure, let's see it."
"All right, kids, you asked for it," Paul said, starting the projector again and quickly switching off the light.
Rosemary slid slightly over on the couch, so that her body was no longer touching Pete's. Again she leaned forward, staring intently at the screen as the picture returned. The girl was Mexican, with black hair, deeply tanned skin, and full breasts peeked by mauve nipples that stood out rigidly from the voluptuous mounds. For a moment she just lay where she was, staring with narrowed eyes at the camera. Then she began to writhe slowly on the bed, running her hands across her body, down over her breasts, at last beginning to toy with the garter-belt, loosening her nylons to peel them slowly down off her thighs.
As Paul had warned, the film wasn't that great. In fact, Rosemary tried to remind herself as the girl stripped and greeted a rather self-conscious looking lover, it was really no comparison to the film they'd seen in the almost respectable movie theater in downtown San Diego. But though she didn't at the time understand exactly why, watching it in the theater was different. The very fact of being in a vast crowd of people, all strangers, offered an insulation that was lacking now. Now they were almost alone with just one other couple in a dimly lighted room with cushions spread on the floor. And though there was nothing in the film that should have turned her on, her consciousness of the circumstances caused unwanted little tremors of excitement to begin to course through her loins and breasts. It seemed so jaded, so wicked, somehow, what they were doing. And somehow her consciousness of that excited her.
A moment later she understood why.
Rosemary had been so engrossed with what she was witnessing on the screen that she hadn't even noticed what was happening in real life on the floor before her. But a soft moan had attracted her attention, and the sight that greeted her as she lowered her gaze was almost more than she could believe. Outlined in the flickering light of the make-shift picture screen were Paul and Doreen Jarvis. They were reclined on a couple of the large pillows, their bodies very close together. Doreen was on her back, her gown undone down the back and pulled off her shoulders so it hung to her waist and completely exposed her voluptuously high-set breasts. Paul was still clothed, lying on his side against his wife, but Rosemary was not deluded by the fact that one of her hands was pressed down against the front of his pants, and she knew instinctively that the dark-haired wife must be massaging her husband's penis even as he was tweaking and fondling her luscious breasts.
Rosemary jerked her eyes suddenly away, turning to look at Pete and discovering that he was also aware of what was going on in front of them on the floor. He was staring at the other couple, fascinated as she was, and his jaw had gone slack so that his mouth hung open with surprise. Rosemary watched him for a moment, so shocked she couldn't even bring herself to speak. Then, as she also turned her own attention back to their host and hostess, Paul Jarvis seemed to sense that they were being watched. He turned suddenly away from his wife, propping himself up on one elbow to stare back at Rosemary with a gleam in his eye that reminded her of an animal caught in the headlights of an automobile on a lonely road late at night.
"You kids don't mind us," he said with a short, queer-sounding burst of laughter. "We run a pretty loose ship around here after dark, so you might as well take advantage of the movie and have some fun yourselves."
As Rosemary and Pete both gawked at him in astonishment, the older man winked at them, then rolled suddenly on his back. And now the innocent blonde-naked young wife almost fainted at the next revelation which confronted her.
Paul Jarvis's trousers were unzipped. His cock protruded lewdly to freedom, standing up in an obscene erection, thick and tall as the trunk of a tree, an enormously menacing object that looked too big for any woman to take up in the confines of her vagina. The older man's naked cock was completely exposed to Rosemary's view, and even in the dim light she could see it almost visibly pulsing. And as Paul waited, on his back on the cushions, his half-naked wife rose to a kneeling position at his mid-section, bending slowly over him so her big full breasts hung toward his thighs as she lowered her face toward her husband's palpitating rod of flesh.
Rosemary's heart was pounding even more rapidly as she watched the woman's hand reach out to wrap around the erect and straining hardness, stroking the tautly stretched skin around the base, beginning to work her hand slowly up and down. Then she leaned her face lower, and Rosemary let out a low gasp as she realized what Doreen was going to do. She was going to take Paul's rigid cock in her mouth. Right here in front of the younger married couple, their hostess was going to suck their host.
Doreen Jarvis emitted a groan of lascivious anticipation as her tongue flicked from her mouth to lick up a little droplet of oozing seminal fluid that had seeped from the glans at the tip of her husband's cock. At that titillating contact, it seemed to grow even larger, reaching up like a plant reaching for the sun. Again Doreen's tongue flicked out, caressing slowly down along the straining shaft. Then she ovaled her lips and with a low whimper took the purplish lust-swollen head up into the moist cavity of her mouth.
For a brief moment Rosemary's eyes strayed back to the screen, and she was shocked to see that the girl in the film was doing the same thing for her actor-lover as Doreen Jarvis was doing for Paul. The man was standing beside the bed, his trousers dropped to his ankles, and the woman was holding his cock in one hand, licking and sucking him, and using her other hand to finger-fuck herself in the cunt.
"Uuuggghhh!" Paul Jarvis groaned, shifting slightly on the cushions and reaching up to run his hands through his wife's hair and hold her face to his loins as he suddenly lunged his buttocks upward to thrust his massive penis even deeper between her lips, ramming it all the way into her mouth until the wiry bush of pubic hair nestled against Doreen's nose and chin.
"Oh my God," Rosemary whispered, transfixed by the obscenely shocking scene taking place before her. She couldn't tear her eyes away from it. This was like some terrible dream, a horrible dream from which she was unable to awake, and she was so mesmerized by the lewd display that she became almost unconscious of her surroundings. It was as if the performance was taking place for her alone, as if it were her own private vision. She even forgot about Pete, and as she watched Paul Jarvis pull his wife's dress on down off her clefted buttocks and smoothly-tanned thighs, then strip away her clinging bikini panties to leave her completely naked above him, the horrified blonde-haired girl emitted a low wail of mingled outrage and lust. On the screen the Mexican girl pulled her lover down on top of her, parting her thighs wide and seizing his now fully erected cock to guide it toward the hair-fringed lips of her warmly moistened cunt. On the floor Doreen Jarvis let her husband's wantonly twitching and even more monstrously erected hardness slip from her lips. She gasped to catch her breath, then moaned with greater anticipation as he pushed her down to a reclining position on her belly. Rolling over to mount her like a dog from behind, Paul stared greedily up at Rosemary as his kneeling wife reached behind her to seize his turgid cock and guide it into the softly glistening crevice between the nakedly clenching cheeks of her buttocks. And as Rosemary stared down at the older man's lust-strained face, she felt Pete's arm suddenly move up around her neck, his hand dropping eagerly down to caress the softly exposed upper portions of her breasts as he turned her forcibly toward him and kissed her hungrily on the lips.
Rosemary didn't know what to think, and for a moment she neither responded nor resisted. She was almost in a daze. She had become so engrossed in watching the obscene display taking place before her that she'd forgotten all about Pete. And it was only belatedly, as she felt his tongue thrust deep into her mouth, his right hand forcing its way down the front of her dress to cup over the fullness of one of her breasts and his left cup over the fullness of one of her breasts and his left hand tugging the hem of her skirt up off her slender thighs, that she became aware of what he had in mind. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to fuck her right here in the same room where their host and hostess were already wildly copulating.
Pete Flowers felt his wife stiffening beneath his touch. He heard the low wail of protest in her throat that was muffled by the presence of his own tongue in her mouth. For a moment he hesitated, his hand grasping her thigh just above the knee. He considered releasing her from his grip, jerking her to her feet and leading her, without a word of thanks or a goodbye to their hosts, out of the house. Other than fucking her, just like Paul and Doreen were doing on the floor, that seemed the only alternative. And though instinct told him that would be the wisest choice, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt a kind of awed respect for both of the Jarvis', and he thought it must only be his own lack of experience that made their actions seem so blatant; furthermore, he couldn't bear the idea of making himself look like even a greater square in the eye of the more sophisticated couple. Nor could he and Rosemary continue to just sit here and gawk at them. Short of leaving, their only choice was to take Paul's advice and get in on the fun.
"Oooh," Rosemary whined, shaking her head in protest as Pete pulled up her dress, exposing her panties, and the forcibly lifting her buttocks up from the couch so he could free the gown from beneath them and bunch it up around her waist. She stared at her husband through glazed eyes as she felt his hand slip down into the tight elastic waistband of her sheer white panties, his fingers forcing their way through the sparse curls of her silken cunt-hair and down into the forbidden "vee" between her thighs, rubbing against the sensitive little button of her clitoris. She felt an electric tingle of unwanted delight go darting up her spine, battling with her indignation at her husband's taking such liberties with her in the presence of these two nearly complete strangers. She struggled for a moment between resistance and surrender, her body trembling as she felt Pete's fingers part the hair-fringed lips of her already moistened pussy and worm their way forcibly up into the tightly clasping little orifice. Then, with a desperate effort, she jerked her face back away from his, staring angrily into his eyes. "No, Pete! No! I'm not going to do it! Not here!"
Hearing a soft chuckle from the man on the floor, Pete glanced down for an instant at the wantonly writhing couple, then glared back vehemently at his wife. Deep down inside, he knew she was right. He knew they had no business even being here, just as he'd had no business coming in the other day when Doreen had invited him for a drink and then proceeded to seduce him. But the same kind of compulsion that had driven him that day seemed still to possess him now. He knew what they should do, but in spite of that knowledge he felt compelled to do just the opposite.
"I won't do it!" Rosemary hissed again, trying with all her might to pull Pete's hand out from between her thighs.
Her protests only increased his insane lust, and as Rosemary struggled, Pete exerted his superior strength, and, extending his middle finger, he forced it even deeper up into the tightly resisting little orifice of her cunt. And as she spoke, the edge of hysteria she heard in her voice was almost enough to break her.
In a sudden rage, Pete hissed back, "Are you trying to make a fool of me?"
Rosemary sighed weakly, sobbing, as her strength left her body, and she gave up all resistance. That wasn't her intent at all. She'd only wanted to stop him because she felt that what they were doing was a mistake. She knew it was a mistake. Maybe it was all right for these people to make love like this, in front of another couple, but she knew instinctively that it was wrong for her and Pete. In a way she still couldn't quite comprehend, she knew it was courting disaster. But Pete was beyond reason, now, as he felt his burgeoning cock throbbing madly in the tight confines of his trousers, and Rosemary realized it would be useless to try to dissuade him.
Letting her body go limp, Rosemary allowed Pete to lift her up and turn her around, placing her in a straddling position over his lap. She whimpered mournfully as she felt him reach down between her thighs to unzip his pants and free the rock-hard shaft of his cock. She gasped, straining and grunting as he guided it up between her thighs, ramming it slowly and surely to the very hilt up in her futilely resisting little cunt. She sobbed as she heard the woman on the floor start an insane cry, like a waiting banshee, that marked the beginning of her climax. But she knew she would not cum herself. There was no hope of that under these circumstances. She would only be a sacrifice to her husband's selfish lust, a receptacle of the fluid of his sex as she herself languished in shame and frustration, fucked but not fulfilled.
CHAPTER FOUR
Pete stood in the door of the gas station, gazing across the drive at the red MG and the sensuous brunette woman who sat behind the wheel, eyeing him with her now familiar teasing invitation.
"Goddamn," said Gus behind him. "There she is again, and boy, has she really got the hots for you. You oughtta get into some of that, man."
"I have," Pete said tersely without looking back.
He waited for a moment longer, watching the woman with a mixture of resentment and embarrassment, then strode quickly across the drive toward the car.
"Hello Pete," Doreen said, her gaze taking in his sinewy, muscular physique.
"Hello Doreen. Fill her up?"
"No thanks. I got gas yesterday when I came to pick it up." She paused, moistening her lips. "You weren't here."
"I had a hangover," Pete said, and though that was the truth, it wasn't the real reason he'd called in sick. After what had happened at the Jarvis' the night before, he and Rosemary had hardly even been able to face each other when they got home. They'd undressed in silence; they'd slept, facing opposite directions, on opposite sides of the bed. In the morning the tension had remained, and he hadn't been able to face the idea of spending a whole day at the station, not knowing what she was doing or how she felt. He'd hoped, by remaining at home with her, to patch up what had happened the night before. But in fact, he'd accomplished nothing. It was still as if everything had changed between them. Their line of communication, if not cut completely, was severely weakened.
"I guess things got a little out of hand for you two," Doreen said with a laugh. "That's Paul. Just his idea of a good time, you know. Get a group of friends together and fuck."
In spite of everything that had happened Pete experienced a twinge of shock at hearing this beautiful and sophisticated-looking woman use that word which, until a few days ago, he'd thought was reserved for the private conversations of men.
"That Rosemary. She's such a sweet child," Doreen went on sympathetically. "I guess she really was shocked. But she'll get over it."
"I guess," Pete said uncertainly.
Doreen watched him mischievously for a moment. "You and I have to get together again some time."
"What?" Pete gasped, not sure he'd heard correctly. "What do you mean?"
Doreen reached out the window and took his hand. "What do you think I mean, lover-boy? You and I should get together again some time. Wouldn't you like that, Pete?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Pete stammered, his eyes wandering over the soft curves of Doreen's body. "Yeah, sure. When?"
"It's a little touchy right now. Paul can become very suspicious, at times. But what I was thinking, we're giving a party next Saturday night for some friends. Not private and intimate, like the other night." She laughed. "Maybe you're relieved to hear that. But anyway, I wouldn't have any trouble slipping off for an hour or so. So why don't you and Rosemary come there. I'll get one of the other girls to keep her occupied while you and I are gone."
Pete bit his lip and shook his head. "Rosemary won't come," he said. "She won't want to come and I wouldn't want to bring her if she did. She's just not that kind of girl."
"What kind of girl?" Doreen said in a raised voice. "Do you think I'm some kind of whore just because I don't mind who sees me doing it with my husband? Or because I screw around on the side once in a while?"
"I didn't say that. I just don't think we should come to your house again. It would be embarrassing for her, that's all."
Doreen looked Pete straight in the eyes. "Young man, this is the twentieth century. Times have changed. Rosemary may have a few adjustments to make, but I'll promise you she's not the kind of girl who's going to be left behind for long. You may think she won't change, because you don't want her to, because you want to keep the same woman you knew when you were a kid. But Rosemary has a lot of potential for loosening up. I'm a woman too. I know. I went through the same period of transition after I married Paul. And if you try to hold her back, you may be the one who gets left behind." She paused, letting the words sink in. "Think about it. I'll see you both Saturday night. Around eight."
She released his hand, jammed the car into gear, and pulled away.
Pete watched the MG merge back into the traffic. He stared after it thoughtfully until it had disappeared from sight, then turned and walked back into the station where Gus sat with his feet propped on the desk, watching him curiously. The disturbed young man lit a cigarette and puffed on it bitterly in short, swift drags.
"No shit, man?" the other attendant said after a moment. "You don't 'spect me to believe you really got into that chick, do you?"
Pete scowled and tossed his cigarette away. "I don't give one goddamn what you believe!"
The last two hours of the shift dragged by slowly and Pete got into his station wagon and left. Rosemary was in the living room watching the news on television when he got home. She glanced up briefly as he came in, then returned her attention to the screen. Pete stood in the doorway, silently watching her. She had her profile turned to him, and he studied the classic tilt of her chin, her straight nose, her full ruby lips. He looked at the upthrust and pointed mounds of her breasts straining against her sweater, standing up full and firm with no need of a brassiere. He looked at her pale hands, at the long slender fingers that now fidgeted nervously in her lap. He made a quick comparison with Doreen Jarvis and he decided, he thought, once and for all and without reservation, that he'd made the right choice. It had done his ego a lot of good to make it with the other woman, and he would have liked to make it with her again... but not at the risk of losing his wife. And now the big problem was to somehow heal the rift between them.
"Doreen called me," Rosemary said without looking up.
Pete's first impulse was to believe that the brunette had gotten angry about his refusal to accept her invitation to the party and had decided to tell on him. But he quickly recovered himself, concluding that Rosemary would be more disturbed than she appeared now if she found out he'd been fooling around with another woman.
"Doreen Jarvis?" he asked after a moment.
Rosemary looked up. "She called to invite us to a party Saturday night. A regular party, she said. Not like night before last. She apologized on Paul's behalf about that. But this Saturday night, she really wants us to come."
"So... what did you tell her?"
"I told her I'd have to ask you first."
Pete moved several paces forward and stopped, staring intently into Rosemary's clear blue eyes, trying to fathom her feelings. But he just couldn't tell. It seemed, by one way of looking at it, that she might even want to go. He remembered what Doreen had told him about not trying to hold her back. He hadn't believed it at first, but Doreen was a woman, and maybe she knew better than he did about that.
"What do you think?" he asked finally.
"I feel rotten about the other night," she said, looking down.
"I feel rotten, too."
"Because I couldn't cum."
Pete moved quickly forward, dropped down on the couch and put his arm around her, hugging her strongly to his chest. "That's not what I meant."
"I guess I'm just a prude," she said, "And I don't want to be. And it's like Doreen was telling me. You know, she's really kind of nice. She admitted that it was pretty crude for Paul to just start like that, but after all, they are married. And it's not so much different from what we used to do, making out and doing everything but it, at parties with six or seven other couples."
"I shouldn't have forced you."
"You shouldn't have had to force me. It probably got you excited watching them. And anyway, I know men get restless. They need some variety. Sometimes they even need another woman."
Pete caught his breath. "Honey, I don't need another woman."
She looked him in the eye. "But if you did, I wouldn't hate you for it."
They were silent for a long time. Then they kissed. After a moment, she gently disengaged herself and slid away from him. "So... what about the party?"
Pete hesitated. "What do you want to do?"
"I want to go, if you do."
He nodded grimly. "All right. I guess we'll go."
The teenage blonde-haired girl got up quickly and left the room. She hurried down the hall to the bathroom, went in and locked the door behind herself and cried.
* * *
Paul Jarvis had barbecued a lamb in their spacious backyard. The gathering of sixteen people, generally in their late twenties or early thirties, had eaten outside, and only gradually now was the party beginning to move into the house. There was plenty to drink and a continual buzz of laughter and conversation filled both the house and the yard. Pete had managed to stick close to Rosemary through the meal, and he'd been determined not to allow himself to be separated from her. Then Paul Jarvis had called him aside to tell him about a vintage Packard that had turned up at an antique automobile show in Seattle, and at almost the same time Rosemary had been approached by a sexy young redheaded friend of Doreen's who had been a majorette at one of the rival high schools she and Pete were familiar with. The girl not only remembered Rosemary, as head-cheerleader, but it seemed they had several friends in common. Paul had detained Pete for the time it took them to put away several double scotches, and now he'd lost his wife in the crowd. He was searching about for her in the house when Doreen caught him.
"Rosemary's with my friend Jennifer and her husband in the living room," she whispered. "I've got the keys to the house across the street. We can go there."
Pete hesitated. He'd vowed he was not going to involve himself with Doreen tonight. It was just too dangerous and it wasn't worth it, but damn, she had a sexy-looking body. She was wearing a cocktail dress with a neckline that plunged all the way to her navel, and her full voluptuous breasts looked like they might burst out of their flimsy confinement at any minute. And she was really ready to go, too. That was what made it even harder. It just didn't seem right to turn a woman down.
"I don't think... I don't think I ought to with Rosemary here," Pete protested weakly, his eyes roving over the well-rounded curves of the brunette's inviting body.
"Rosemary's all right, Pete," Doreen said with an amused smile. "Now I threw this party for one reason, and if I don't get what I want I'm going to start screaming, right now. All right?"
She gave out with a soft little laugh, then took Pete's hand and led him down the hall toward the front door.
* * *
Rosemary sipped her whiskey and looked around the living room with alcohol-glazed eyes. The lights had been dimmed to a soft glow. Soft music played on the record player. Several couples, including Jennifer and Tom Blake, the friends Doreen had introduced her to, had gotten up and begun to dance. On the love-seats across the room a man and a woman had begun to make out. She distinctly remembered having been introduced to both of them earlier in the evening, and the odd thing was they had not been together then. The man had been with his wife and the woman with her husband. Or perhaps she was mistaken. Perhaps it was just the whiskey. She hadn't wanted anymore to drink after dinner and, in fact, she would have cut herself off completely if Jennifer hadn't insisted on filling her glass. But now she'd started to develop a taste for it, and it certainly did make her feel more at ease with the other guests.
Rosemary finished her glass and idly shook it in her hand. A passing shadow whose face she hardly glimpsed poured it full almost to the brim and moved on. The bored blonde-haired teenage wife drank again, watching the dancing couples. She wondered vaguely where Pete had gone, thinking how much she would like to have him here with her now. She felt like dancing; she felt like being held in his strong arms, pressed against his muscular body; she felt like being loved.
"Enjoying yourself, kid?"
Rosemary looked up sharply at the sound of the man's voice. It was Paul Jarvis, standing behind the chair where she sat.
"Oh yes," Rosemary said, the effects of the alcohol betrayed by the slur in her voice.
The thirty-five year old man looked down at her with a leering smile. There was a confidence, an arrogance in his eyes, that she couldn't quite fathom, and for some reason it made her feel slightly uncomfortable.
"Do you like to dance?" he asked, his eyes straying from her face down to the ripely inviting fullness of her proud upstanding young breasts.
"I... I don't mind, if you want to," Rosemary said, not certain how she could refuse their host, though for some reason she actually didn't relish the idea of dancing a slow close number with Paul Jarvis.
"I asked you if you liked to, not if you wanted to," Jarvis said, putting his hand on her shoulder and gently pushing her back down on her seat as she placed her drink on the table and started to rise. "I think dancing's a waste of time, myself. A waste of sexual energy."
Relieved, but still not completely comfortable in Jarvis's presence, Rosemary retrieved her drink and took another long sip. She turned away, hoping he would leave. But he remained where he was, and not only did he remain, his hand remained where he had placed it on the sensitive bare flesh at the curve of her neck. Across the room the couple on the love-seat were really going at it. Rosemary stared, wide-eyed, as she saw the man's hand work its way up beneath the woman's skirt, and she heard the low moan that rose audibly to the woman's lips from the illicit contact. She shivered with the recollection of what had happened when she and Pete had come here last week. In her mind's eye, a disturbing vision flashed, a vision of Paul Jarvis lying on his back, his prodigious cock protruding nakedly from his fly, and his submissive wife kneeling in subjugation over his loins. And now, she thought with a sudden chill of increased apprehension, she was alone in the crowd with that same man. His hand lay, unwelcome, on her nakedly defenseless flesh. She was acutely conscious of its presence, and though she desperately wished he would take it away, in an odd way, it felt almost comforting.
"H-have you seen Pete?" Rosemary asked, looking around again and shrugging her shoulder in an attempt to shy away from the man's persistent caress.
"I was talking with him a little earlier," Paul said, dropping his hand to the back of the chair.
"I wonder where he went?"
Jarvis shrugged. "I was wondering the same thing about Doreen."
He waited until the alarmed suspicion registered in the innocent blonde's face, then grinned and sauntered slowly away across the floor among the dancing couples. Pausing, he pinched the buttocks of a petite blonde crushed in the arms of a tall, drunkenly swaying man. Glancing back, he noted that Pete Flowers' perturbed young wife was watching him. But, as their eyes met, she looked quickly away.
Rosemary sat where she was for a few moments longer. Troubled by a gnawing dread she still didn't want to name in her mind, she drank the full glass of whiskey rapidly, feeling the effects go immediately to her head. What had he meant when he said that he was wondering the same thing about Doreen? He wondered where she was, just as Rosemary was wondering where Pete was. The implication seemed too incredible, and she knew that if she trusted her husband the way a wife should trust the man she loved, she would have laughed it off without a second thought. But she couldn't laugh it off. It wedged itself in her mind like a painfully burrowing thorn. She remembered what she'd said to Pete the other evening about how she wouldn't hate him for it if he found he needed another woman. Perhaps he had taken her at her word. But even if he had, surely he wouldn't have the gall to do something right here in this house, with both her and the husband of the other woman present. Or would he?
Rosemary realized suddenly that she couldn't go on thinking like this. She was poisoning her mind toward her husband, and she had no real evidence that what she feared was true. And she had to find him. She had to go find him now and put her mind at ease. Paul Jarvis casually sipped his own drink and watched the teenage blonde get up suddenly from her chair and go out of the room. He moved slowly to the door, watching her hurry down the hall to the kitchen, which led in turn to the backyard. He listened to the slamming of the back door, waited for a moment and heard it open and close again. Then he stepped back inside the living room, pressing himself against the wall, listening to her footsteps as she came back down the hall, past the door, and continued along toward the other end of the house, where the three bedrooms were located.
Rosemary was almost breathless as she moved toward the darkened end of the long corridor. Unconsciously she was aware that the bedrooms must be located there, as she'd already been through most of the rest of the house. And she knew that it was a testimony to the extent of her suspicion that she should even bother to look there for her husband. She was beginning to believe he actually could cheat on her right here, virtually in her presence, and in spite of what she'd told him the other evening, she now found herself anything but forgiving.
She reached the first open door and stopped, peering into the dark, empty room. Then she took a deep breath and continued on, slowly and, except for her own hastened breathing, in silence. Then, several paces from the door to the next room, she stopped, her heart almost leaping to her throat as she heard a low, distinctively sexual wail issue from within.
Oh no, Rosemary thought, filled suddenly with despair. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be. But she knew, almost without doubt, that it was. There were a man and a woman together in that room. Pete and Doreen were missing. Who else could it be?
Almost, she brought herself to turn away. Then, seizing the desperate hope that she might in fact be mistaken, that it might be someone other than her husband and Paul Jarvis' wife she heard moaning and panting beyond the cracked door, she moved quickly on and stopped just outside the bedroom. She hesitated for a moment, then, determinedly pushed it slowly open and stared into the blackness.
For a moment she could see nothing. She couldn't even locate the couple, and only the sounds of their heavy breathing and their moans evidenced they were even there. Then she heard the man say: "Jesus, baby. Who the hell taught you that?" And as she realized the voice did not belong to Pete, Rosemary almost sighed aloud with relief. She was about to turn away and flee back down the hall when something else dawned on her and she stopped in her tracks. The voice she'd heard was not Pete's, but it was a voice that she did recognize. Doreen had introduced her to the owner of that voice earlier tonight. It was the man whose wife was in the living room making out with the husband of another woman. And as the implication of that fact dawned on her, Rosemary's breath caught in her throat.
This was no ordinary party. These people were "Swingers" - or at least that was what they were called in the media. This was a wife-swap party. It was all arranged. Everything was arranged. The man in this room and the man in the living room had made a deal. They had traded their mates for the evening. They had traded them as men in the old days traded their female slaves. And worse, she realized she must be part of the same kind of deal. She and Doreen must also have been traded. Doreen, tonight, must belong to her husband Pete. And she belonged to Paul!
As the awful, but still unsubstantiated realization hit her, Rosemary stared back through the crack in the door, the couple on the bed gradually taking form as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light. She distinguished the nakedly writhing body of the woman, lying on her back with her legs raised high in the air. Kneeling over her, the man was sliding down toward the foot of the bed until his head was between her thighs, his face lowered right over her open loins. Then Rosemary gasped as she heard the woman's murmuring words: "Yes, lick it, darling. Lick it. Eat my cunt."
Rosemary could hardly believe her senses. She was completely disoriented by the conclusion to which she'd jumped, and the shocking display taking place before her made her feel as if she'd been struck a hard blow on the head. She tried to clear her mind so she could think straight again, but all was a jumble. She had a sudden urge to run out of the house and leave all this behind her, but she was frozen to the spot, so obsessed by the scene taking place before her that she didn't hear the footsteps as Paul Jarvis came down the hall and whispered almost into her ear, and abruptly an electric-like jolt shot through Rosemary's confused young body as she felt the older man's hands slipping around her from behind to cup right over the firm fleshed mounds of her breasts.
She turned her head, staring back at him in shock and dismay, trying to squirm free of his clutching fingers tweaking at her nipples as she felt him press his loins against her buttocks. The bulge of his half-hard cock swelling in his trousers insistently pressed her dress into the soft crevice of her buttocks as his hands continued to crudely massage her breasts.
"You tricked us," she whined, locked helplessly in his grip. "Doreen said this was just a regular party, nothing like the other night."
"It is a regular party," Paul laughed. "What the hell you think people do at parties these days? Play scrabble?"
"They don't do that!" she said, looking back through the crack of the door into the dark room where the man's face and slavering tongue still worked in subjugation over the woman's nakedly squirming loins. "Her husband and his wife are together in the living room," she continued in a cracked voice. "And my husband is with your wife. Isn't he?" she hissed. "Isn't he?"
"If he is it won't be the first time," Jarvis shot back, and as Rosemary winced and staggered slightly, she felt his hands slip from her breasts, moving lower down her body to her stomach, down... down... to gently apply pressure at the mound of her pelvis, causing a sudden unchecked sensation to surge out through her flesh against her will. She remembered again the cries of repeated climax that had issued from Doreen's lips the other night as he had done it to her dog fashion on the floor. She wondered vaguely if Pete was hearing those same cries of passion and ecstasy at this very moment, wherever it was they had gone. She clenched her eyes shut, fighting against awareness of the thought with all her strength. But the soft fingers nipping at the sensitive flesh of her belly and pubis from the outside of her dress, the increasing hardness of his stiffly throbbing cock pushing up against her buttocks from behind, were making it more and more difficult for her to control herself. Paid Jarvis, she realized, must be a very good lover. He was probably even a better lover than Pete, because Pete had never in all the time they'd been married made her cum the way Doreen had cum the other night. And if Pete had traded her behind her back, if Pete had made a transaction in flesh without asking her, then he deserved whatever he got. If Pete was doing it to Doreen, then it seemed only right that Paul do the same thing to her, repulsive as the idea seemed.
"Goddamn, you're luscious," Jarvis hissed in her ear.
"Noooo, don't say that," Rosemary whimpered as she felt further lewdly delicious feelings rippling over her skin. She moaned deeply, trying again to pull away, using all her willpower in her attempt to clear her head and free herself from the strange sensations building up against her will deep in the pit of her stomach.
Then she gasped, holding her breath as she felt the hem of her dress reach the top of her thighs and the older man's probing hands came suddenly into searing contact with the softness of her naked flesh. A ravishing shock rippled over her skin, and before she knew it one of his fingers had slipped right up inside the tight elastic legband of her panties. She squirmed desperately back again, trying with one hand to push him away as the other clung to his hand reaching up beneath her dress. But he was not to be denied, and she whimpered helplessly as his worming fingertip found the sensitive slit of her narrow vagina and thrust gently up into it, parting the soft pubic hair and making sudden delicious contact with the throbbing little head of her clitoris. She found herself thinking again, deliriously, that if Pete was really being unfaithful to her it was only fair she do the same to him. And then the strength left her body. She collapsed weakly back in his arms, leaving it to him to hold her up. And her head swam as he guided her, unresisting back down the hall and into the empty bedroom.
CHAPTER FIVE
Paul Jarvis stared in triumphant anticipation at the voluptuously innocent teenage blonde reclining trance-like on the bed before him. She was almost in shock, and her state of mind had somehow made her even more susceptible physically. She was his now. He knew there wasn't any way in the world she could resist him, and he knew with equal certainty that before he was finished with her she would be begging for more and more of what he had to give. Nor could he wait to see the look on her punk husband's face when he found out that age-old truth that what is good for the goose is good for the gander.
Rosemary lay limply on her back, crossways on the bed, her legs dangling off the edge and her dress still pulled far up off her thighs. Through bleary eyes she watched the older man standing before her. She was conscious that she still could refuse him. She still could stop what was about to happen to her and salvage at least her own self-respect if not her broken heart. But she couldn't bring herself to move. The alcohol had numbed her to the extent that she didn't have the strength or will, and she could only vaguely hope that this wasn't really happening, that it was just one of those dreams at the end of a long night's sleep, from which she would soon awake and find that she was not, after all, helpless and paralyzed.
She shook her head weakly as Paul Jarvis moved closer, leaning over her. The dress she wore buttoned down the front, and she moaned feebly as he stepped closer and reached down to deftly undo the top button. Through narrowed eyes she watched the material part off the golden ripeness of her breasts as he flicked open one button after another, exposing her belly, her navel, the nearly transparent nylon of her panties through which she could just distinguish the golden triangle of the softly curling hair of her cunt. Then he reached behind her neck, lifting her up just enough to enable him to push the gown off her shoulders and down her arms. He slid his hand beneath her back to loosen the snap of her brassiere, peeling the straps from her shoulder and tossing the flimsy undergarment aside, and before she was fully aware of what was happening, she was naked to the waist.
"No, please no," Rosemary protested in a whisper as the leering man seized the hem of her dress and pulled it over the flare of her buttocks and down the length of her long slender thighs. Her shoes had already dropped from her feet and now nothing remained but her thinly revealing little panties. She shook her head weakly, staring almost in disbelief at her own helpless vulnerability as he grasped the tight elastic waistband and began to draw them slowly down to teasingly expose the sparse hair of her cunt, her white naked buttocks, and the secret little slit of her cunt.
Oh my God, thought Rosemary, still immobilized by her shock, by the inebriating alcohol she'd drunk, by a seemingly fatalistic compulsion to ruin her marriage and punish Pete for what he must be doing at this moment with Jarvis' wife. For a moment she closed her eyes. She listened vaguely to the rustle of clothing. Then she opened her eyes again, and she blinked with shock at the sight that greeted her.
During the few moments when she'd not been watching, Paul Jarvis had stripped off his own clothes. Except for his socks, he was now as naked as she. His massive cock loomed up from his hairy loins in a pulsing erection that almost took her breath away, and as she lay helplessly paralyzed before him, he dropped quickly to his knees on the floor beside the bed, his hand reaching in between her knees to force her smooth thighs out wide apart, completely exposing the forbidden inner flesh of her little hair-lined cunt to his sadistically leering gaze.
"Jesus, what a pussy!" he gasped as he stared at the glistening pink plane of her exposed loins. As she twisted vulnerably on the bed, he pushed her legs out forcibly, then suddenly doubled them back until her knees were virtually jackknifed to her shoulders, leaving the sensual mound of her pubis and her lewdly moistened cunt-slit completely helpless before his lust-glazed eyes. "I'm gonna eat your cunt like you've never been eaten before," he gloated. "I'm gonna eat you until you're begging to be fucked, and then I'm gonna fuck you until you're begging me to stop."
Rosemary's eyes opened wider, and she stared in defenseless despair as she realized suddenly that Paul Jarvis was dead serious in his obscene threat. He didn't just want to have intercourse with her; he wasn't going to be satisfied with just sticking his penis in her vagina and shooting off. He wanted to possess her, to force her into complete submission to his heartless will, and she knew that in spite of her drunkenness and shock, she had to bring herself to resist.
"You hear me, babe?" he spat. "You got any objections?"
"Yesssss!" Rosemary cried, suddenly finding her voice, struggling desperately to clamp her thighs together as the man inched forward on his knees, pushing his head between them. "No! I don't want it! I don't want that!"
"Good," Jarvis grunted. "For a minute I thought you were gonna give too easy." Then, before the fearfully cringing girl could wriggle away, he suddenly leaned his face closer down between her jackknifed thighs toward the upturned half-moons of her nakedly clenching buttocks. She felt his hot breath blowing along her sensitive inner thighs, then an unwelcome shudder racked her body as his tongue flicked suddenly out into lewd contact with her nakedly vulnerable flesh. The blonde-haired teenage girl grunted and squirmed, pinned helplessly on the bed in her jackknifed pose of submission as he dropped his head lower, his flicking tongue searching through the forbidden curls of her cunt-hair to make sudden shocking contact with the pulsing little bud of her clitoris.
"Oh my God, please no!" Rosemary pleaded helplessly. "Don't do it to me! Don't do that!"
But even as she cried out in protest, her hands reaching out to his head to push him away, the sudden surge of unwanted pleasure involuntarily drove her to pull his face more tightly up against her burning loins.
Paul Jarvis sucked the miniature phallus-like bud hungrily into his mouth, his teeth nipping lightly at it as his lashing tongue worked feverishly over the sensitive little nerve-end. He opened his mouth wider, and moved the slavering limberness of his tongue downward along the smoothly heated crevice of her hair-fringed cunt, licking across the tight elastic mouth of her open cuntal orifice, teasing her until the distraught teenager found herself almost wanting to beg him to worm it up inside. He reached slowly down with his fingers to spread her pinkly glistening pussy-lips wider apart to his gaze, staring hungrily into the darkly straining depths of her palpitating cunt. He held back as long as he could, then took a deep breath and plunged.
From there it was swift and vicious. Jarvis's tongue slavered straight up into the tightly clinging little opening, and he began to orally fuck Rosemary with a swift tonguing in and out of her dilated and pinkly clasping cunt-hole. And the exquisite pleasure he was inflicting on her was more than even she could resist. In spite of the depravity of the act, her traitorous body began to respond. She moaned and whimpered, twisting in lasciviously wanton abandon. The sensuous thrills racing through her nakedly exposed body were beginning to take control of her completely. Pete had never eaten her like this, and the sheer physical delight she experienced was sweeping all her inhibitions from her mind.
"Ooooooohhhhh yesssssss!" Rosemary wailed in final verbal surrender. "Yesssssss! Do it to me like that! Do it to me with your tongue!"
Paul Jarvis grinned in sadistic triumph down between the teenage girl's softly perspiring thighs. Then suddenly he pulled his slavering tongue out of her now-completely-moistened little cunt, flicking it teasingly over the thin membrane to lick down between the cheeks of Rosemary's buttocks and across the tiny puckered hole of her anus.
The virginal-looking young blonde opened her eyes wide, staring in shock and dismay up at the ceiling. My God, what was he doing down there? He was licking her rear-end, worming his tongue right up into her... her... asshole, and it was like nothing she'd ever experienced in her life.
"Ooohhhhhhh!" she wailed as the searing contact with her erotically stimulated anus sent further chills of shivering magnificence up the length of her spine. Lurid visions smashed into her brain with the intensity of an erupting volcano as the damply stabbing tongue worked deeper into the restricting passage of her weirdly excited rectum. Her voluptuously smooth young body shook uncontrollably beneath the overpowering assault as wildly uncontrollable spasms rippled furiously through her loins and belly with torrents of sensual pleasure that seized her completely and blotted all else from her mind.
Driving his tongue harder and deeper up into Rosemary's lust-tortured anal passage, Paul Jarvis waited until her moans of submission reached a pitch of intense ecstasy. Abruptly, he pulled free, and as she whimpered in frustration and despair, he climbed up on the bed beside her and twisted around to face in the opposite direction, positioning his heavy passion-bloated penis right over the confusedly whimpering blonde-haired young housewife's half-open mouth. He lowered his face again between her thighs, holding his waiting tongue poised over the saliva-soaked lips of her quivering cunt. With a low sigh, he pushed his hot breath slowly out over the still rigidly twitching bud of her fully erected clitoris.
"Oh please," she moaned, her eyes tightly closed to blot out the sight of his hairy loins almost smothering down over her face. "Give it to me again! Give it to me again!"
"Then suck my cock," Paul grunted. "You're gonna suck it until I cum. And if you do a good job, you can have a little fucking after that," he continued, confident that she no longer possessed either the desire or the willpower to refuse his obscene command. Then, just for insurance, he plunged his searing tongue down into the depths of Rosemary's passionately flowering cunt.
The young housewife's brain was a mass of lewdly inspired images. Even if Pete had been unfaithful to her, this seemed to be more than just evening the score. She didn't see how she could ever face her husband if she did what Paul Jarvis had asked, and she didn't think she'd ever conceived of anything so depraved and horrible in her life. But strangely now, in the masochistic confusion that gripped her, even that seemed like a means of attaining further pleasure. But she had no chance to sort out her confused feelings, for suddenly Paul bit down gently with his teeth on the sensitive bud of her clitoris, and as Rosemary opened her mouth to cry out in mixed delight and pain, the decision was made for her. With a sudden downward lunge, Paul drove his mushroom-shaped cock-head straight in between her lasciviously parted lips.
Rosemary gasped, almost gagging from the obscene invasion. The older man's impaling penis rammed all the way down the length of her tongue, and she felt as if it might drive clear to her belly. But there was nothing she could do to resist. She had no choice but to clamp her lips and teeth down hard as the pressure continued, licking and rolling her tongue defensively around the palpitating hardness, jerking her head back down into the softness of the bed to leave long white marks on the surface of the huge penis-shaft from the force of her teeth pushing the blood away from the surface of his invading cock.
For the first few minutes, this new stage of her ordeal was almost more than she could bear. But gradually Rosemary accustomed herself to the thick shaft of hardened cock-flesh ramming in and out between her ovaled lips. She knew there was no longer anything to be gained by holding back, and she devoted all her energy to the task she'd been forced to perform. Paul was still doing things to her cunt with his own lips and tongue and teeth, like nothing she'd ever dreamed of in her life, and she could no longer contain the building lust that surged through her nakedly squirming body. Reaching her hand up between the older man's hairy, muscular thighs, she cupped the rhythmically dancing sac that held his cum-Filled balls, at the same time, further increasing her wanton sucking of his penis as he rammed harder and more viciously into her mouth.
Rosemary's lushly rounded lips were grotesquely distended by the huge organ that invaded them, folding inward from the surging pressure as it rammed again and again to her throat. Her tongue worked wildly around his bulbous cock-head, whipping it rapidly toward a final explosion as the whole gigantic shaft seemed to grow continuously larger and thicker, stretching and throbbing and virtually choking her with its sheer phallic massiveness.
They were both going to cum, and as she sensed his approaching orgasm Rosemary found herself insanely longing for the invasion of the sticky cum in her already obscenely soiled mouth. Her face bobbed up and down between Jarvis's churning loins, and she wildly ground her own buttocks, sucking his searing tongue deep up into her cunt as the gathering billows of her orgasm swept relentlessly over her. She felt as if she were about to die, and her belly rolled in voluptuous spasms of delight as he continued his wanton tongue-fucking of her cunt. Then, with a muffled whining wail, she felt herself letting go.
Every nerve and ragged fiber of her being became suddenly hypersensitive. She experienced a fantastic and overpowering surge of passionate sensation ripping through her with shattering eroticism as her release flooded her pulsating pussy-passage with hotly gushing feminine liquid. Her thighs tightened about Paul's neck, and her buttocks quivered and trembled with the release of tension surging through her naked breast and loins. She sucked the older man's pistoning cock as if she wanted to devour it, and it swelled to an even more incredible thickness as he pushed it even deeper into her voraciously sucking mouth. His balls seemed to explode, and his white-hot cum surged up the full length of his convulsing cock to blast out from the hugely swollen tip like bullets racing from a machine-gun.
The sudden splashing blasts deep in her throat were even more powerful than the defenseless teenage girl had expected, and for a moment she almost gagged. She gulped frantically to keep from choking as the relentless outpouring of his viscous cum continued. The very degradation of her position seemed to spark a chain reaction that began deep in her own loins and belly, and as Paul continued to thrust his spasming cock violently into her mouth, the overwhelming shuddering of her own loins increased. She was flooded and inundated with his cum and her own rampaging release, and she lapped servilely at his spewing and jerking cock-head, licking up and swallowing every drop of the deliciously shooting sperm. The fury of their perfectly timed orgasms seemed to go on forever in a frenzy of uncontrollable bliss.
Then at last it was over. Paul felt Rosemary's pussy contract one last time around his tongue, and at the same time she dropped her head back from the still rock-hard shaft of his cock. As she gasped to catch her breath, he lifted himself off her trembling body, turning around to stare triumphantly down at her as the little tremors of post-orgasmic delight continued to course over her naked flesh. He gazed greedily down at the two lust-swollen mounds of her breasts, then lowered his face suddenly toward them, licking one of her already rigidly swollen little nipples, kissing down toward the sensitively rounded underside of the tingling breast.
Then he paused, taking a deep breath, and bit down gently.
"Oooooooh," Rosemary cried out in surprise and stinging pain. She twisted on the bed, staring down in shock as Paul relaxed his grip and raised up to stare at her with a lewd grin.
"Now we fuck," he said, sliding further up to push the still half-rigid shaft of his cock straight up to the entrance of her succulently moistened cunt.
The blonde-haired teenager shook her head weakly from side to side as she felt the first searing pressure. She closed her eyes, then opened again, suddenly hit by the realization of what had happened.
Raising up from the bed, she peered down in shock and horror at the bright red "monkey bite" Paul Jarvis had intentionally placed on her breasts.
She was branded, like a slave... or like a whore.
CHAPTER SIX
Pete Flowers tiptoed silently into the bedroom and peeled off his uniform shirt, listening to the water running into the shower. He pitched the shirt over the back of the chair, lit a cigarette and lay down, in his shoes, trousers and undershirt. Through the fogged glass door of the bath he could vaguely distinguish the naked outline of his wife's body as she bathed, though he doubted if she could see him.
Pete took a deep drag of his cigarette and dumped the ashes on the floor. He wasn't usually as inconsiderate toward his wife as to make her house cleaning more difficult, but tonight that hardly seemed to matter. Two days had passed since the Jarvis' last party, and they had hardly spoken to each other since. Pete knew from the way his wife looked at him that somehow she'd at least come to suspect that something had happened between him and Doreen. He knew it and it gnawed at him like a cancer deep in his gut. He was ashamed of himself for what he'd done. He'd felt so guilty during these last two days that he'd hardly been able to face her. But tonight he was determined to clear the air. If he had to he would come clean about the whole thing. But one way or another he was going to get back on speaking terms with Rosemary before either of them went to sleep. And he was going to fuck her. He was going to fuck her and make her cum until she couldn't stand it, and then maybe she'd quit turning her cold shoulder to him.
Pete finished his cigarette, mashed it out on his work shoe and pitched it beneath the bed just as the shower water stopped. A moment later Rosemary, wearing only a thin robe tied loosely with a sash in front, emerged. Seeing Pete, she stopped abruptly. She glared at him resentfully for a moment, then turned away and walked over to sit before the dresser and start to brush out her damp blonde hair.
"Rosemary," Pete said after a moment.
Her eyes met his in the mirror, but she said nothing. Then she looked back at her own reflection, and pulled the brush through her hair with long, angry strokes.
"Rosemary, I want to talk to you."
"There's nothing to say."
"You know why," she said, glancing briefly back at him.
"The night of the party."
"Yes. The night of that goddamned party!"
Pete sighed. "All right. I guess you know don't you. You know where I went when I disappeared."
"Yes. I know where you went."
"It won't happen again."
"Ha!" his angry blonde wife laughed without mirth.
"Rosemary. I wanna straighten everything out with you."
"And how do you expect to do that?"
Pete bit his lip. "Come to bed. Come to bed with me. You're the only one I love. Let me show you that."
"Why? You think your penis is a magic wand? You think you can wave it in my face and everything will be all right?"
Pete winced. "I don't like to hear you talk like that. Rosemary. Come on."
She sat still, slowly dragging the brush through her hair. He rose and walked over to stand behind her. She stiffened as he dropped his hands down to her shoulders, then moved them lower to start to pull the robe apart.
"No, Pete! I don't want to!"
Glaring at her, he persisted. She seized the robe, trying to hold it together, gritting her teeth and glaring angrily back at him. Pete caught his breath. In a sudden motion he yanked the robe apart, completely exposing her lusciously formed breasts. He took in their reflection hungrily, dropping his hands down toward the already slightly erected nipples, bending and starting to form on his lips the kiss he intended to plant on the back of her neck.
Then he stopped, staring open mouthed at the red, kidney-shaped mark, placed revealingly on the under side of her left breast. As Pete drew his hands away from her and straightened up, she pulled the robe tightly back together over her breasts, her face blanching.
"Well you fucking cunt," he hissed under his breath. "You fucking, two-timing cunt. Who did it? Who did you fuck at the party?"
"Who do you think?" she said quietly. "Paul Jarvis."
"Paul Jarvis?" Pete blinked, starting to comprehend.
"He raped me."
"He raped you?"
She lowered her head. "No. He didn't rape me. He just did it to me and I didn't stop him. I knew you were with Doreen then. It didn't seem to matter."
"Didn't seem to matter? What the hell do you mean, it didn't seem to matter?"
She stood and turned. "What did it matter? You were with her."
"That's different."
"What's so different about it, Pete?"
"I'm a man and you're a woman. There's just a difference. It's not the same between a man fucking around and his wife fucking around on him. You know that. It's just not the goddamned same."
"It is the same!"
"It's not the same, you goddamned whore. That's what you are. You know it. A goddamned whore."
"And you're a male chauvinist pig," Rosemary blurted tearfully, then brushed past him and despairingly threw herself face down on the bed.
Pete turned slowly, glaring at her. Her body was naked beneath the loosely clinging robe, shaking with sobs. He was stunned. It was as if his whole life had collapsed. It seemed completely incomprehensible that Rosemary, his Rosemary, could ever let another man touch her. And yet that was exactly what she was admitting. And as the truth sank slowly in, Pete found himself possessed of a rage that was like nothing he'd ever known in his life. And a strange aspect of that rage was a burning in his own loins, a sudden violent twitching and distending of his cock, swelling to angry erection in the constricting confines of his work pants.
His eyes fastened on the curvaceous half-moons of his adulterous wife's barely protected buttocks. Pete walked slowly toward her in a trance of anger and desire, and he dropped down onto the bed beside her. She moaned as his hands reached out to seize her, roving brutally over her flesh through the thin material of the sheer bathrobe.
"No, please," she whimpered softly as he again pulled it from her shoulders.
"Shut up," Pete growled, forcibly pulling the gown off her arms, jerking it completely free of her body to leave her lying in a naked heap on the bed before him.
The jealous husband stared bitterly down at her soft curves of flesh, imagining Paul Jarvis' dirty hands roving over them. He unbuckled his belt, undid the button and pulled down the zipper of his trousers, trembling as he climbed up onto the bed. His breath came in hoarsely strained gasps, and another whimper of protest issued from Rosemary's lips as he grasped her hips, forcing her to kneel up on her knees, pressing her head down into the pillow, smothering her nose and mouth into the pillow.
His unhappy young wife regretted having told Pete about Paul Jarvis. She should never have admitted it. Now she knew he would never forgive her. In that sense, there was a difference between men and woman, a double standard. Because though she'd been hurt and angered by the fact that Pete could want a woman other than her, she could have survived that hurt and forgiven him. What she really still blamed him for was what his action had led her to do. She hated him because, in a way, he was responsible for the circumstances that had made her unfaithful.
And now Rosemary had no idea what unearthly punishment he had in store for her. But she could feel the anger displayed in the trembling of his hands as he moved her into position. Her face still buried, helplessly in the pillow, she could offer no vocal protest. She could do nothing but shiver and moan as she felt his hands working at her defenselessly proffered ass-checks, his fingers digging like claws into the tender skin between them.
"Oh!" Rosemary gasped, managing to turn her face to the side with a mighty effort. "Oh! Be careful. You're hurting me!"
The strain on her body was almost unbearable as Pete used his thumbs to separate the satin-skinned mounds of her buttocks, and she heard the quick intake of his breath as the secret crevice between them was exposed suddenly to his view. This was something she really hadn't been prepared for. She felt like an animal kneeling this way before him. But then she received an even greater shock as Pete leaned suddenly forward and she felt the hotly flicking tip of his tongue licking wetly up between the widespread, helplessly exposed mounds of her buttocks.
Pete was completely crazed by his wrath. He wanted to subjugate and punish Rosemary in a way she would have never dreamed of. To lick her ass-hole with his tongue seemed the most perverse thing in the world, and he relished the low gasp shock that welled in her throat as she wiggled forward in a frantic attempt to elude the humiliating sensation.
"Hold still!" he growled, digging his teeth animal-like into the yielding flesh of her buttocks. "Hold still or I'll bite your whole goddamn ass off."
Oh my God, Rosemary thought. He's really out of his mind.
Pete held on for a moment longer, clinging tightly to her soft skin with his teeth. When she at last became still he let her go, and for a moment Rosemary dared dream she was spared. But seconds later she realized that was not at all the case. Again she felt her painfully quivering buttocks being forced apart from the cruel outward pressure of his thumbs. Then her eyes bulged in disbelief as she became aware of the distinct prodding of his extended middle finger straight up against her cringing little anus. She couldn't imagine what he was going to do, but she tried to edge away from the intolerable pressure against the tiny rubber-like opening, a strange terror creeping like cold fingers up her spine as the pressure only increased. Fear numbed her brain and paralyzed her limbs and her mouth felt suddenly chalky dry.
"No, Pete. Please, nooooo!" Rosemary wailed as she felt his finger shove harder and suddenly slip right up into the warm little hole. Actually, she remembered, he'd done the same thing to her a week or so ago when they were making it together. But that had been different, somehow. With the contrasting sensation of his penis in her vagina, she'd been able to bear the penetration of her anus. And besides, that day he'd been doing it out of excitement and lust, not because he wanted to punish her.
Pete stared down hungrily at the smooth swells of his wife's subserviently spread ass-cheeks and the incredible sight of his own middle finger wedged all the way to the knuckle up into her tight back passage. He grinned savagely to himself as he relished the act to which he was now determined to subject her. He'd teach her to screw around on him! He wasn't a carbon, as they said south of the border about men who couldn't satisfy their women, and he grunted with his own building anticipation as he thrust his merciless finger forward again, sinking it slowly deeper, burrowing it up into the most sensitive depths of her obscenely skewered rectum.
Ignoring the helpless girl's cries of fear and pain, Pete dug brutally up into her cringing anus, intent on shaming and humiliating her to the full extent of his ability. Her tiny puckered ass-hole was warm and throbbing around his finger, but it was only as he felt its thrilling caress that he became fully determined to carry out the obscene scheme upon which he'd seized. He was going to fuck her from the rear, not dog fashion the way they'd done several time before. But right up the ass! That would teach the whoring bitch to fuck around on Pete Rowers!
Rosemary was in an agony of mortification and pain. It was too much. What he was doing to her was inhuman and sick, and desperately she tried to crawl free and dislodge his painfully skewering finger from her rectum. Her kneeling body felt cramped and her tiny anal opening was throbbing almost unbearably, but there was nothing she could do. Pete was determined to have her the way he'd never had her before, and he gazed leeringly down at his hugely throbbing penis, thrust up and poised at her tightly clenched anal ring. He withdrew his gouging finger with a sudden sucking popping noise, and for a moment she sighed with relief. Then once again the helpless blonde stiffened as the finger was replaced by an even blunter and more threatening cudgel of flesh.
Pete had thrust the naked head of his lust-swollen cock straight up between Rosemary's buttocks, and almost before she realized what was happening, he lunged forward up against her defenseless little opening, trying with all his might to insert its menacing thickness into the tiny aperture. At first it seemed impossible. In spite of all his raging force, his bulbous cock-head bumped futilely against the tight opening. Beneath him Rosemary shuddered, wailing in pain and alarm as he rammed forward a second time, still without success. He cursed and grunted under his breath, holding her still helplessly in position. Then, blinded by his lust and fury, he rammed his hips forward with all his strength, shoving them straight up against her waggling ass-cheeks, ramming with animal ruthlessness until he felt her resistance give.
"Aaaaaaaaaagggggghhhhh! My God, Pete! Stop! Please stop!"
Rosemary's shrill cries reverberated through the room as Pete thrust the head of his massively palpitating cock right up into the tight little hole. He grunted, holding his blood-swollen maleness in position, and he flexed his hips forward to ram his penis gradually deeper and deeper up into her fearfully cringing anus Pain jolted through Rosemary's body like an electric shock, and for the moment nothing seemed to matter but that she rid herself of this cruelly thrusting pole of flesh stabbing in between her naked hips. But her desperate struggles were in vain as Pete continued to push deeper and deeper, fucking his penis inch by agonizing inch up to the very hilt into her agonized little rectum.
"Ooooooh God!" Rosemary screamed, her beautiful face contorted with her torment as she felt the coarse pubic hair of Pete's loins smack heavily against the quaking softness of her ass-cheeks. Behind her, Pete snickered insanely, flexing deep up inside her to cause another shiver to rack her helplessly pinioned naked body. Rosemary's eyes filled anew with tears as she heard his cruel laughter, and sobs of pain and misery poured from her lips as he began to lunge back and forth, withdrawing almost the whole length of his massive cock, and then ramming it relentlessly back up into her shuddering anal depths. He gloated over the sight of her pinkly clasping flesh pulling out on the back-stroke, then turning violently inward as he thrust back up inside. She was feeling it, all right, he thought with sadistic triumph. He was really getting his message across to her now.
Rosemary had never felt so humiliated in her life. This cruel punishment was only adding injury to insult after what she'd undergone at the hands of Paul Jarvis. That was Pete's fault as much as hers, and she seethed with resentment at the fact that he was forcing her to pay for his mistake. But to her amazement, she became gradually aware that the agony she'd initially experienced was beginning to diminish. In spite of all her anger at being so ill-used, the actual physical sensation was becoming almost pleasant. It still hurt, but she derived a strange masochistic enjoyment from his hard-skewering thrusts. The feminine juices of her cunt had begun to freely flow, and even her rectum seemed to have lubricated slightly. His punishing penis was moving in and out of her without nearly as much friction now. Her rubbery flesh seemed to have adjusted to the cruel size of it, and as she tentatively rocked her buttocks backward, she felt the first stirrings of a new and crazy passion that was like nothing she'd ever experienced in her life. Pete thought he was going to break her, but she had taken everything he had to offer. She was taking it and she was enduring it, if she could learn to enjoy it, that would be all the better. And no matter how it turned out, he would pay in the end for what he'd done to her. He would pay, as he liked to say, out the ear. Rosemary made that vow to herself as she began to rotate her ass-cheeks in tiny circles, twisting back and clenching tightly around the hotly invading cock with Pete's every forward thrust.
Sweat poured from Pete's face and he stared down in astonishment as his wife wiggled her buttocks back, shaking her head from side to side to whip the long blonde locks of her hair back and forth over the softly naked skin of her shoulders. She was liking it! By God, the whore was liking it! She was liking it as much as he did.
"Oh fuck me," she moaned distantly. "Come on, bastard. Fuck me like that if you think it'll make you feel better!"
"Goddamn!" Pete grunted, hardly able to comprehend what had come over her. But now he was caught up in the frenzy of his own lust. He was too excited to try to think about what was happening, and he rammed his turgidly throbbing cock up Rosemary's yielding ass-hole with deep and powerful lunges that racked her body down against the bed. The sweat from his forehead spilled onto her soft golden skin. His breath came in sharply strained gasps, and he gripped the tops of her thighs cruelly with his fingers, squeezing with all his might to pull her back over his hotly expanding cock as though he were fitting on a boot, relishing the imminent orgasm building up relentlessly in his loins.
In her determination not to be defeated, Rosemary had by now almost completely forgotten her pain. She waved her cruelly impaled buttocks back with a vengeance, grunting and groaning from the exquisitely warm wetness of the giant presence between her ass-cheeks. Then suddenly she looked back in alarm as she heard a canine growl rise from deep in his throat, and he began to suddenly thrash wildly on the bed behind her, his loins striking her buttocks in a frenzied staccato of jack hammering strokes. Her body tensed and shuddered before the shattering assault, and a low wail burst to her lips as she felt the first hotly shooting droplets of white-hot cum begin to spurt in a stream up into the farthermost depths of her ravished rectum. His viscous cum poured forth as though from a human pump, surging through her body like a volcanic eruption, heating her belly like a hotly tingling whirlpool bath as he shoved forward with a mighty lunge that made his bloated balls dance over her stiffly erected clitoris.
Then it was over, and he grunted, sagging down heavily on top of her, his hands now lying limply on her shoulders as she continued to tremble and shudder beneath him.
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered in her ear. "I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't want to hurt you."
Bullshit, Rosemary thought, relishing her bitterness and the kind of inner triumph a close-lipped prisoner can feel when he endures everything his interrogator has to offer and still refuse to talk.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The call from the Jarvis' had come on Thursday night. It was Paul on the line and Rosemary had answered the phone. Pete watched her face blanch as she listened, saying nothing that revealed the identity of the caller. Then she hung up. "That was Paul," she said. "There's a party at Jennifer and Tom's on Sunday evening. I know the address. I told him we would probably come."
Pete had glared at her silently for almost a full minute before he responded. "You said we would probably come?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"Why? Didn't you get enough of that bastard last week?"
"Yes, Pete. I got enough of him."
"Then why do you want to go to another one of those parties."
Her face was expressionless as she spoke: "Because we have nowhere else to go. We can't go back. Nothing's the same anymore. We have to go forward, and see where we get."
"See where we get?" Pete growled. "I don't know where we're gonna get, but I know what that son of a bitch is gonna get the next time I see him. A good punch in the face."
"No, Pete."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because I won't let you. And don't worry, I'll have nothing more to do with Paul Jarvis. That won't happen again with him."
With him had been the two key words in the sentence, Pete realized now as he watched his wife dancing snugly against their host, Tom Blake, her face snuggled on his shoulders, her breasts pushed warmly to his chest. It was eleven o'clock or so, and the party was really getting into full swing. A number of couples had already disappeared to the bedrooms, and even here one man and woman looked like they were almost ready to start fucking on the couch in front of everybody. Only Pete was alone, only Pete, that was, and Doreen Jarvis, who sat in an easy chair across the room, watching him steadily, never taking her eyes from his face.
Pete gulped his whiskey rapidly, feeling almost no effect from the booze. He looked up dully at his wife, watching her fingers play lightly, teasingly, over the back of Tom Blake's neck. Tom's wife, Jennifer, was making out with Paul Jarvis on the couch, and neither seemed concerned about what the other was doing. They were both doing their own thing and that was all that seemed to matter.
"I ought to get up and pop that bastard in the nose," Pete whispered to himself, watching Blake's hand creep down to the inviting mounds of his wife's buttocks, pulling her loins even more tightly to his own. But even Pete knew that would do no good. These people wouldn't even understand something like that. They'd just think he was a fool. They weren't like him, these people. They were a different breed. He knew that now. He'd faced the realization and it couldn't be denied. Maybe Rosemary was capable of moving into their world, but not him.
Pete sighed as the record ended. He watched his wife slip out of Tom arms. She took a step back, weaving drunkenly on her feet, looking around with a silly grin. "What's the matter?" she exclaimed finally, her voice slurred as a result of the alcohol she'd drunk. "Is this a party or a death-watch. Hey Pete!" She came a few steps toward him, then stopped, planting her feet wide apart. "Hey Pete! Don't you know this is supposed to be an orgy? Don't you know we came here tonight to have fun? And now everybody is holding back just because you're sitting there like a dead fish?"
As Pete glared at her she laughed raucously, her half-exposed breasts, unencumbered by a brassiere beneath her partly unbuttoned blouse, shaking with vulgar abandon. Then she turned abruptly away and walked to the bar and around behind it. Pete took another sip of his drink as a fast rock-and-roll song began on the stereo. He looked again at Doreen Jarvis, and when he turned his gaze to the bar he could not longer see his wife. Then his face went gray as he heard a loud "whoopee" and she raised suddenly up from behind the counter, where she'd apparently knelt. His eyes almost bugged out of their sockets as he saw that she'd removed her blouse. She was stripped completely naked to the waist, her breasts standing up full and proud in obscene display. And worse, she'd retrieved a can of whipped cream from behind the bar and now she was spraying the white foamy substance in thick globs over her naked upper torso and the rigidly swollen points of her nipples.
Pete let his glass slip from his hand and shatter on the floor. He rose, glaring at his wife, who now did not so much as look at him. Everyone else was laughing. Even the couple on the couch had stopped their exploration of one another's half-exposed bodies and raised up to watch. The only person who wasn't looking at Rosemary was Paul Jarvis. He wore a big smile on his face and he was staring straight at Pete.
"Fuck it," the young man said, his shoulders sagging as he heaved out a sigh. He looked back at Rosemary, now dancing out to the clearing in the middle of the room, where she was met by Tom Blake. And as the almost equally drunken man began to lick the whipped cream from her succulent-looking breasts, Pete turned suddenly and strode to the door.
He emerged, almost shattered, onto the porch. He breathed in the cool night air, then sank down on the steps. In a moment the door opened behind him and Doreen Jarvis emerged. She came over and lay her hand sympathetically on his shoulder, then descended two steps and took a seat beside him.
"You're just not up to that, are you Pete?"
He didn't answer for a moment. "Goddamn it," he said finally, his voice mournful. "Goddamn it! The worst of all is that I still love her. Damn it! She's a worthless whore and I still love her. I love her as much as ever."
"She's not a whore. She's just having fun, Pete."
"Having fun? You call that fun? She's trying to get herself fucked is what she's doing. She's begging for it."
"But you fucked me, Pete. And you can fuck any woman here tonight if you want to."
"It's not the same thing," Pete said. "It's not the same."
"Why isn't it the same?" Doreen put her arm gently around his shoulder, pressing her breasts against his arm.
"You think I want my wife fucking around with all those creeps? You think I'm some kind of pervert or something? The hell with that. My wife isn't a piece of public property."
"Aren't you ever going to adjust? Rosemary has."
"Adjust, my ass! I'm getting out "Then take me with you. We can go to our place. Paul will be here all night." Pete said nothing, and gently she stroked his neck. "Don't you want to? Hunh?"
He looked at her sadly. "I don't know if I feel like doing anything."
"Then if you don't feel like it we'll just go to sleep. Together."
Pete nodded sadly. Together they rose and walked arm in arm down the drive to his station wagon.
* * *
Her half-naked body still streaked with gobs of whipped cream, Rosemary pressed her face against the window and peered out beside the curtain, never ceasing the undulation of her buttocks in time with the music as she did so. She watched Pete open the car door for Doreen Jarvis. She watched him close it and get in on the driver's side. A lump swelled in her throat and a single tear spilled from each eye as the lights came on, the station wagon turned around and disappeared onto the road. She reached up and wiped her eyes. When she turned away, her sorrow was hidden by a smile. Tom Blake and another of the guests, a Ted somebody, were standing before her, looking lecherously at her unprotected breasts. She giggled, spraying them both in the face from the can whipped cream.
They wiped the white foam from their eyes, laughing also. "Let's get her," Tom said, and a moment later the two of them were upon her.
We played with fire and we got burned, Rosemary thought dizzily to herself as she felt the two sets of male hands stripping the skirt from her waist and letting it fall to the floor at her feet. She stepped out of it, her now almost totally naked body going limp as the two men pushed her down to the floor. She moaned in surrender as Ted gobbled the rest of the whipped cream from her breasts, and she offered no resistance as Tom ripped her panties away to expose her naked ass-cheeks and loins. She was giving herself up to them completely. She still didn't know what they were going to do, but she no longer even cared. They could do as they pleased, and she was sure that whatever it was it would be exactly what she - and Pete - deserved.
Tom Blake pushed the voluptuously naked blonde to a kneeling position on the carpet, shoving her legs wide apart, offering the obscenely exposed plane of her pussy helplessly up to his gaze. He'd already removed his shirt, and as he guided her into position, he was urgently tearing at his belt and the buckle of his trousers with his other hand. And before her, Ted was also stripping unashamedly in front of the onlookers gathered about the room. They were going to take her simultaneously, Rosemary realized vaguely, her mind slightly recoiling at the lewdly vivid, never-before-imagined vision that flashed suddenly before her eyes.
They were both going to do it to her at once, and she knew that now there wouldn't have been a way in the world to stop them even if she wanted to. She'd already gone too far. Tonight all limits were cast aside.
The nakedly kneeling blonde shuddered as Tom levered up against her from behind, guiding the already rigidly dilated tip of his rock-hard cock straight up between her firm thighs, his groping fingers parting the lewdly moistened lips of her young cunt as he rammed his hips forward, and with one sudden, shattering lunge, he drove almost half the length of his huge blood-filled cock up into the fleshy folds of her surrendering cunt.
She moaned half-deliriously as she felt the raw sensation intensify rapturously. At the same time Ted dropped to his knees in front of her face, his own lust-stiffened shaft of cock-flesh looming up obscenely right before her eyes. She shuddered with mixed pain and delight as Tom continued his relentless penetration, at last embedding his lust-flamed hardness in her to the hilt, and as she leaned forward in an automatic attempt to escape the searing penetration, she ran face-one into- the thickly surging penis of the other man. It shoved almost without warning up into the warm saliva-soaked cavity of her mouth, almost gagging her as the spongy cock-head plunged down her tongue toward her throat.
Then, to the cries of encouragement from the onlookers, the two men began to fuck her back and forth from both ends, buffeting her as their straining cocks plunged simultaneously in and out of her helplessly violated orifices. Her pussy muscles were stretched almost beyond recognition, and the unspeakable subjugation to which she willingly yielded began immediately to create a stirring of masochistic excitement like nothing she'd ever known. Deep in the back of her mind she was still conscious of the fact that tonight she and Pete had really gone beyond the point of no return. They were openly being unfaithful to one another. She realized that after this their chances of salvaging their marriage were almost nil, and in any event, their relationship could never again be what it had been before. So now, in her wild lust and alcohol-inspired delirium, it seemed that the only thing to do was go ahead and live out the destructive activity of her own downfall to the fullest.
Abandoning herself to perdition, Rosemary began to rotate and grind her well-rounded buttocks backward to meet Tom's racking lunges, and at the same time, she started to suck in servile dog-like subservience on the throbbing penis that plunged again and again in and out between her sensuously ovaled lips.
"Oh God," she groaned inaudibly as the two men pummeled her lust-driven body back and forth between them, using her captive flesh as a shameless receptacle into which they would both pump every last drop of their lewdly building orgasms. The very debasement of her situation, the obscene humiliation of being used at once by both the eagerly grunting men and before a whole room full of spectators, caused the secret desire welling through her body to burst into full bloom, and she churned and gyrated her upthrust buttocks in luxuriating circles, tightening her cruelly ravished cuntal muscles warmly around the spearing cock rampaging in and out between her naked ass-cheeks. At the same time she increased her submissive sucking on the pumping rod of flesh that filled her ill-used mouth. She was giving in completely now and she wanted to milk both men dry until she was filled from one end to the other with their lewdly flowing cum.
Behind her, Tom Blake was building swiftly toward the end, thrusting harder and faster, battering her mercilessly with each impassioned stroke as his sperm-bloated balls slapped against tender thighs and his pelvis slammed against the upturned crevice of her ass. The saliva in her contorted mouth was becoming thick and sticky from the emissions of lubricating fluid that seeped from the end of Ted's mouth-fucking cock, and she sensed that his orgasm wouldn't be far behind Tom's. But her own depraved excitement had mounted almost completely out of control. She had never felt so utterly used and debauched in her life, and she sucked with all her heart, waggling her proffered buttocks in total abandon as she felt herself building relentlessly toward a crescendo of lust.
Then suddenly Rosemary felt the pile-driving cock fucking into her from behind begin to tense and inflate even more. She was aware of her thighs being pushed forcibly out wider apart as the frenziedly fucking man drove his iron-hard cock powerfully up into her steaming cunt, shoving his hard-surging penis as far as it would go up into her belly as he abruptly began to spew his hotly jetting cum in a searing torrent deep up into her wildly contracting cunt.
Rosemary ground her gyrating buttocks back frenziedly as she felt Tom's seething cum flooding up into her dilated womb, filling her until she thought she would burst. The hotly viscous fluid dribbled back out of the hair-covered lips of her steaming pussy, and the lust-driven man's spasmodic lunges drove her to bury her face even more warmly up against Ted's groin as his overheated cock also burst forth in a savage climax, filling her cheeks with the pungently boiling liquid until she was forced to swallow to keep from choking on the fiery gushes of sperm. Her sucking lips clasped tightly around the lurching cock-shaft, and she was fearful of losing even a drop of the precious life-giving semen. But there was too much of it and as she felt the spasms of exquisite relief flooding with equal fury through her own ravished body, little droplets of the sticky white fluid spilled out from the corners of her mouth and thin glistening strands connected her lips to the now deflating penis as it was withdrawn.
The impassioned young blonde continued to drive her hips back onto Tom's monstrously skewering penis as it pumped the last drops of searing cum up into her spasming cunt, as, with a wail of orgasmic delight, she felt her own body soar and explode into what seemed like a shower of tiny blazing stars coursing through her being with a wantonly raw ecstasy of relief.
Then at last her strength left her and she collapsed, exhausted, on the floor. She thought she was finished, but she should have suspected that this was only the beginning. Around her, a genuine orgy was already beginning to erupt. It was she who had broken the party open, and now the men were lining up to take her. It was for them, her initiation, and none of the lust-crazed men wanted to be left out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
As the big bus sped down the highway, Rosemary Flowers stared vacantly out of the window. She paid no attention to the passing scenery as she mused darkly within the depths of her mind. How had it all happened? And it seemed to have happened so quickly - barely four or five weeks ago, she and Pete were blissfully happy, satisfied with each other and the dull, uneventful life they were leading. And then he met Doreen.
Well, she supposed, if it hadn't been Doreen, it would have been someone else; if it hadn't happened now, it would have happened later. The wistfully musing blonde-haired teenager wanted to blame Doreen, she wanted to blame Paul, and she wanted to blame Pete for setting up the series of events that had led to their break-up - to her downfall. It was a downfall, wasn't it? She wasn't sure; she would have to sort out her thoughts, her feelings her prejudices. Later. It would take time, and right now she just felt lost and helpless. But one thing she knew: No one man could satisfy her now - maybe never again. One rock-hard cock pumping up inside her just wasn't enough, not when she could have two - or three.
Pete thought she was going back to live with her mother, but, no, you can't go back, she had decided. You have to keep going forward... you have to keep going to see where it leads. Vaguely, the confused young girl wondered where she could find a man... any man... and maybe he would have a buddy...
* * *
Pete Flowers leaned against the glass window at the front of the station and watched the big Continental creep slowly up the drive. Paul Jarvis was behind the wheel. Beside him, looking out the window at the somber faced young man, was Doreen.
Pete had seen her a couple of times since the last party he and Rosemary had attended, but this was the first appearance Paul had put in since then, and the sight of the man he held responsible for his break-up with his wife caused a sudden tightening in his stomach. He seethed inwardly as he recalled the sight of her, dancing naked, her breasts streaked with foamy whipped cream. That had been the end. Or perhaps the end had come even before that. The week they'd spent together after the party had been hopeless and bleak. It was over between them. There was no way to recapture what they had lost. And, it was strange in the end, when Rosemary had packed and gone back to her mother's, Pete had felt almost nothing. He'd been numbed, as if he'd grown a protective shell.
The muscular youth spat on the drive and walked slowly across to the car. Doreen rolled down the window and he moved up to the door on her side.
"Hello, Pete," she said, watching him with concern. "Are you all right."
"Sure."
"Rosemary?"
"She's gone." Through the windshield Pete saw Paul Jarvis grin.
"Gone?" Doreen asked. "She'll be back. I'm sure she'll be back."
Pete shook his head. "No. I don't want her back."
"Pete!"
"I'm not like you," Pete said. It was not an easy thing to say. For him it was a realization, the formation of a concept. "I'm not like you," he repeated. Then he leaned down and peered through the window at Paul. "You want gas?"
"Yeah, Pete. Fill it up."
Pete nodded. He turned slowly and walked to the back of the car. He stopped, turned around and peered through the rear window. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gus watching him from the station doorway. He shifted his weight on his feet, knitting his brow with thought. Then, decided, he tapped on the window. Paul and Doreen both looked back at once. He pointed down at the back of the car, then motioned for the man.
"What's the matter?" Paul called, sticking his head out the window.
"Come look," Pete said.
Jarvis opened the door and stepped down from the vehicle. Pete hit him full in the face as his feet touched the ground. The younger man had turned and started away before Jarvis landed on his back, blood pouring from his bursted lip. By the time the thirty-five year old man was up, Pete was in his station wagon, pulling out of the drive. He stared straight ahead, not bothering to look as Jarvis called: "You goddamn punk! Come back here, goddamn it!"
Pete pulled onto the freeway and leaned heavily onto the accelerator. He didn't really know where he was going. But he had to take the rest of the day off.
Back at the station, Jarvis dabbed his lip with a handkerchief as Gus Craig looked on curiously. Doreen, sitting stiffly in the front seat, ignored him.
"Goddamn punk," Paul muttered painfully. "Goddamn stupid punk kid."
"Oh shut up, Paul," she said as he started the Continental and pulled away. "You had it coming."
And he should have hit me, too, she thought as they pulled away.
