Brett Hansen might have done well, before it was too late, to read this section from Kenneth Walker's and Peter Fletcher's Sex and Society: "In another human being, we see our own living image; another person who possesses an equal right to life, who claims the freedom we claim to make choices and decisions and to take action. For this reason, we cannot without betraying ourselves treat other people as things existing for the satisfaction of our own appetites, or to be used as instruments of our own private purposes. By doing so we should deny the validity of our own claim to human consideration. Sexual desire in man is rooted in his need for love, or freedom from psychic solitude and is not merely a physical hunger. Love is a modification of hunger; it is the quest for a satisfaction derived from relation to a not-self instead of, as in the case of hunger, the heaping up of power after power into oneself. To love a thing you must think of it, in the first place, as something other than yourself; in the second place, as something in contact with which you will overcome the loneliness which is the source of your present dissatisfaction."
CHAPTER ONE
He lit a cigarette and watched the girl cross the street in front of the line of cars. Her skirt was short and tight. The stifling heat covered her in a film of perspiration, outlining her ass in taut detail. Her pointed tits bounced saucily as she hurried toward the other corner. Brett watched her back and imagined his hands on her thighs, working toward those twin cheeks of delightfully quivering flesh. His eyes stayed on her body until she was swallowed by the crowd. He hated to move when he heard the horn behind him, but he hit the gas pedal and the car lurched ahead, the tires complaining with a squeal.
It was good to be back in California. He'd done his traveling during his hitch in the Air Force. Now he was home to stay. He hadn't returned for the usual reasons, though. He had no family and there was no special girl waiting for him.
No special girl, he thought happily. He wanted them all.
Brett believed any woman could be had if the conditions were right. A lot of people had disagreed with him in the past, some had even laughed; but he'd spent the last seven years proving he was right. At 26 his body still had a lot of miles left. He hadn't failed yet. Any broad he wanted, he got-and none of them had come out on top. It was like a private war with him. He'd have his way with them and give them nothing in return.
Well, not nothing, he thought, and smiled; I haven't had a complaint yet. Just thinking about it made his cock tingle and grow.
His arousal brought back to mind his buddy's wife. He had been living with Don and Marion for four weeks now, since his release from the Air Force, and was finding it hard not to put the make on her. She was a good-looking broad, and didn't seem to be taking to the domestic bit too well. He'd only noticed small things, but Marion seemed to begettingboredwith her husband and with the quiet life their little suburban area had to offer.
Brett suspected Marion wanted more out of life. He hadn't been able to find out what, exactly, but if it was more excitement he knew where she could find it.
He didn't want to upset his old friend's marriage, but Marion was a real looker, and he hadn't seen much of Don in the past two years, anyway. Even if it did happen, it wouldn't be all his fault; he hadn't wanted to stay with his old buddy in the first place. But Don had been determined to give Brett a place to stay, at least until he found a pad of his own. He'd said the house was too big for the two of them, and they could use the company.
When Brett first met Marion, he couldn't help thinking that any man in his right mind shouldn't be looking for company if he had a doll like that warming his bed.
Don had picked him up at the airport the day he arrived home. They talked over old times as Don drove him through the quiet suburban streets. When they arrived at Don's house, he led Brett in and introduced him to Marion. She gave him that beautiful smile and waved him to a chair.
Don went back to the car to retrieve Brett's luggage.
"So this is the Brett Hansen I've been hearing so much about."
"Yeah, what you see here is all me. I hope I can live up to whatever Don's told you about me. Was it good or bad?"
"Oh, a little of each, I'd say. How about a drink?"
"I can see you and I are going to hit it off from the start," Brett said with a laugh.
"Sure. I've got it figured that way. What'll you have, Brett?"
"Scotch on the rocks, if you've got it."
As she turned to mix the drinks, Brett eyed the curve of her back, the jutting buttocks, the smooth, rounded thighs. She turned while he was taking in her ankles, and Brett didn't bother looking away. She stood holding the drinks, and let his gaze take in the front of her body. It matched the back perfectly; large, solid breasts, gently curving belly and long legs.
"Finished?" she asked, handing 'him his drink. "I can see you're going to demand careful watching."
"Yeah. You're a very pretty girl. I compliment Don on his taste in women."
"Thank you. Now would you mind standing up and giving me the same opportunity?"
He laughed and moved out of his chair. He knew he was going to get along great with this girl.
"You've got a nice build yourself, Brett. I'll have to warn the neighborhood wives."
They laughed together and sat down to their drinks.
He'd liked her then, and these past weeks hadn't made him change his mind.
Brett came to his cutoff and left the traffic behind him as he drove down the side streets. The big convertible wheeled through the narrow streets with ease.
Brett was very fond of the car. It was the first thing he'd ever really owned. It picked up broads like flypaper, and he'd had some custom gadgets put in that made it a mobile bedroom.
As he rolled into the carport, Brett looked at his watch. It was four-thirty. Don wouldn't be home for an hour. These were the hard times, the times when it was tough to keep from touching her. He and Marion were alone for an hour every day, and all day Saturday.
Marion flashed him her lovely smile and turned toward the refrigerator as he slipped out of his light jacket. He stared at her and felt his cock hardening again. She had the nicest legs he had ever seen, and her thighs and smoothly jutting buttocks were made to be caressed and loved.
"Hard day?" she asked.
"No, just long and hot."
He sat down to make his obvious condition less noticeable as she carried a cool beer toward him.
"Like my new sweater? I just got it today," she said, saucily arching her back and pushing her tits out toward him. The huge peaks strained at the fabric, seeming to be urging him to free them. The protruding, eraser-hard nipples told him she wore no bra.
"Yeah, they're beautiful."
"They?" she asked, smiling innocently.
"The skirt's new too, isn't it?"
"No, and you know it," she laughed, and went back to the stove, hips swinging.
She was begging for it every chance she got, and she was going to tease him once too often. Buddy's wife or not", he knew he'd have to have her, and damned soon.
"How much time have I got before supper's ready?"
"Oh, half an hour at least. Why?"
"Think I'll have a shower and get out of these sticky clothes."
"Sure, go ahead. It's been so hot today I wanted to take one too, but it'll be too late by the time you get through."
"It's a big shower," he said, as he walked down the hall.
The water felt good as he lathered himself, and his thoughts returned to Marion. He wondered what she'd do if he ever took her teasing seriously. He was sure Marion wasn't satisfied sexually with Don. Night after night Don sat up watching TV after she went to bed, and he'd heard Marion drop a few unhappy remarks to Don about their sex life. Besides, with the bitchy atmosphere between them most of the time, they damn well couldn't be doing too much in bed.
A broad like Marion was built to be loved, and she needed it often. He was sure she wasn't getting it half enough. It was a bloody waste of all that beautifully arranged flesh-a waste he wasn't going to let continue.
Well, tomorrow was Saturday, and he'd be with her all day. If she gave him a rough time tomorrow, he was going to give her what she obviously wanted-and maybe a little bit more. What the hell, he'd be doing Don a favor. She'd be too tired to bitch when Brett got through with her.
Don was home when he came out for supper, and he could feel the cold atmosphere in the room. They'd just had another fight. Brett couldn't keep his eyes off those big, resilient boobs forcing at the front of Marion's sweater. Don didn't seem to see the pair of rigid nipples that Marion was pushing at him, but Brett appreciated her efforts. Man, she had a nice set!
They ate in silence, except for the normal conversation needed during a meal. Don had no interest besides his work, and it looked as though Marion had given up long ago trying to keep a conversation about anything else going.
While Marion was clearing the table off, Don suddenly brightened and turned to her.
"How would you like to have a party tomorrow night, honey?"
Marion loved parties and Don knew it.
"Could we, Don?"
"Well, we haven't been to the cabin in months, and I thought you might like to have a get-together to officially open it again for the summer. Besides, it'll do you good to get out of the house for a change."
"I'd love to. But how come you want to all of a sudden?"
"Well, I do have another reason. You know Bill Simpson becomes our new manager Monday, and I wanted to get in good with him."
"I should have known it wasn't to please me," she snapped at him.
Here they go again, Brett thought, and started to stand up. Don waved him down before he could leave his chair.
"Look, all I want to do is invite him. All you have to do is say hello; then you can forget him. You can invite anyone else you want. I'll leave the rest up to you."
"Well, it's better than nothing, I guess. But how can I get the cabin ready? I've got no way to get down there. You work tomorrow, or had you forgotten?"
"Maybe you can talk Brett into driving you down, unless he's busy."
Don turned, resting his hand on Brett's shoulder. "How about it, buddy? You got anything better to do?"
Marion was standing behind Don. As he asked, she pulled her sweater down over those luscious, full mounds, giving Brett the benefit of a side view. Those rock-hard nipples still pushed at the sweater, trying to break free. The nipples had swollen to a full half-inch each. They quivered and bounced as she released the sides of the sweater, then sprang back to the high position where they belonged.
"Hell, no, I'd be glad to be of service to you and Marion tomorrow," Brett said, more to Marion than Don.
Don seemed pleased at Brett's answer, and went into his den to phone the new manager to make the arrangements. Brett watched Marion's full, lush body glide around for a few minutes as she tidied up the kitchen; then he headed for the door. As he was about to open it she turned and waved him back.
"Consider yourself invited for tomorrow night. I hope you don't have other plans."
"No, not yet. Do you want me to bring a girl, or will you invite one for me?"
"I have one in mind." She smiled and added, "Should be a good opportunity for you to add to your list of conquests."
Brett turned from the door and stared at her, starting at the ankles and slowly working his way up, mentally undressing her as he went. Visually, he caressed her soft, firm thighs, perfect hips, slightly rounded belly, and those rippling, unrestrained knockers. His rod was growing again, and he felt it pushing uncomfortably at the tight slacks.
She looked down at him and blushed slightly. He let her have a good look-a fair trade for those luscious globes she had been offering.
"I'm interested in one particular conquest just now," he said huskily, staring at-the center of her passion, "and she's got the body of an angel."
Abruptly, he turned and left the house.
CHAPTER TWO
Saturday morning, Brett awoke as Don's car left the carport. He stretched and rolled over to check the clock. Seven-thirty. He was glad he didn't work on Saturday.
He glanced down at the tent formed by the covers, and was tempted to walk across the hall and capture the warm spot beside Marion in the bed that Don had just vacated.
What a waste, he thought, as he struggled into his briefs and crossed the room to the chair where he'd left his clothes the night before. But she has to come to me first.
He heard Marion working in the kitchen as he stood in front of the mirror combing his hair. He glanced down at his reflection and smiled. He was proud of his body; it was his key to the magic treasure every woman had nestled between her legs-locked for some men, but Brett's key hadn't failed him yet. He was a full 6'2", and didn't have an ounce of fat on his 190-pound frame. His blue eyes accented his blond, almost white hair, and his mouth had been considered sensual by more broads than he could remember.
"Hell, they all want it," he thought to himself, "and I'm trying my damnedest to give it to every one of them."
He finished dressing, walked into the kitchen, and sat down to the breakfast Marion always had ready for him. She was wearing tight yellow capris and a skimpy yellow and white blouse, cut low so that her breasts were exposed almost to those pert nipples.
"Nice view. You trying to get yourself raped?"
"No, I'm not the kind of woman who likes to be raped. But I feel safe with you. I don't imagine you've ever had to rape any woman, have you?"
"No, can't say as I have." Brett smiled to himself and dug into his breakfast. x
"Shall I leave the top down?" he asked, as they approached his car.
"Sure, it's such a beautiful day. It's going to be hot at the cabin. I hope you brought your bathing suit so we can go for a swim."
"Yeah. I've got it."
Brett wheeled the big convertible through the streets with ease, and they were soon on the free-way heading out of town.
Marion sat on the other side of the car, and Brett found himself glancing at her continuously. She looked so good he felt an urge to pull off to the side of the road and take her right there on the hot pavement. He pictured her shapely ass on the steaming black-top, and smiled.
The cutoff to the cabin appeared, and he pulled off the freeway and started up the curving gravel road that led to the secluded cabin. They passed through the gate and parked above the beautiful, white-sand beach, which was completely enclosed by towering cliffs on either side. Brett had been told that Marion had talked Don into buying the cabin because of the privacy. No one could see the beach or cabin unless they came up the private road and had the key to the gate.
They left the car at the crest of the cliff and walked down the winding footpath to the cabin. Once inside, they opened the windows and both doors to get rid oi the dead air, and Brett mixed two drinks while Marion began to search for the glasses and dishes she would need for the party.
"Brett, will you get me the stepladder, please? I think I put some glasses in the attic last year."
"Sure, where is it?"
"Under the porch in back."
When he returned Marion had opened the cleavage of her blouse even farther. She climbed the ladder after he set it up, and asked him to take the glasses as she handed them down. He watched her firm buttocks move together under the tight material as he steadied the ancient ladder.
She bent down to hand him two glasses, but he reached up only a short way, making her bend further. Her blouse hung open, and he could see the full mounds and part of the rust-red nipples that were struggling out of her bra. He made no attempt to hide his interest, and didn't take the glasses she held out to him.
Instead, he slowly reached up and encircled her small waist in his hands, lifted her lightly and put her down in front of him.
He kissed her and she flung her arms around his neck. Her hands released the glasses, and they smashed on the floor. He spread her lips and his tongue plunged. His hands slid down to her tightly covered rump as he kissed her again. This time he felt her tongue respond vigorously to the flashing of his own.
She could feel his rod growing between them, and it heightened her passion. When the kiss finally ended, she was panting and moaning.
He let his hand caress her back and buttocks, forcing her into a rolling motion, back and forth against his hard throbbing cock. He kissed her hard as his hands darted farther down and back again, in steady motion. They reached the junction of her thighs, and as he moved his hand back and forth on her crotch, he could feel her dampness.
She was ready, all right-as ready as any woman could ever be.
His hand found the clasp and zipper of the capris. His tongue searched her mouth, and his hands slid over the firm globes of her ass and the backs of her legs as he pushed her slacks down to her knees. His fingers lifted the elastic of her panties, and the palms of his hands rubbed warmly against the bare flesh of her satiny rump.
Marion moaned and ground her hips against his loins while he explored every hill and valley of her buttocks. His hands came back to the top of her panties, and he pushed them along the same route her capris had followed, caressing her inner thighs tantalizingly.
"It's been so long," she whimpered.
He felt her hands at his belt and the front of his pants as he unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it gently from her. As she stripped his slacks and shorts off, he undid the clasp of her bra and dropped it to the floor on top of her blouse. Then he knelt in front of her to remove her slacks and panties the rest of the way. While his hands were busy he kissed her belly, leaving a moist path across it from one side to the other. She clutched at his dick, then urged him toward the bed.
He palmed one breast, then the other, rolling the nipples back and forth between his fingers. She was holding him tightly with both hands as he took each nipple into his mouth in turn and caressed it lightly with his tongue. He rolled the passion-hardened points between his tongue and the top of his mouth, biting them lightly and stretching them until they snapped back into the softness of her breasts.
"Oh, Brett, now, now-there's so much of you!"
He tore off his shirt, the only thing still separating them, and took in her lush, quivering body with his eyes. Marion twisted passionately on the bed, impatient for him. Her knees came up as he settled between her legs, and she stroked and guided him to the well of her passion.
She wanted him badly, but he had to force himself to take it slowly because she was so tight. It was hard to believe she was married, he thought; she was more like a sixteen-year-old.
He moved up and down slowly, letting her cunt loosen and lubricate naturally. He enjoyed the sight of her face as he almost left her slowly returned, then rammed her hard. She shuddered and cried out, but Brett knew that it wasn't a cry of pain-it was a wanton cry of pleasure. She clutched at his back as he started moving faster, going in farther, until she was in absolute ecstasy. Her head bounced from one side of the pillow to the other; her legs wrapped around his sweating body.
He relaxed his arms and let his upper body settle lightly on her quivering breasts, speeding up his motion until her mouth opened and emitted a shrill scream. She thumped her buttocks on the bed in passionate spasms, her fingernails raking his back. Brett clutched her springy ass, feeling the almost unbearable pleasure mounting in him. Then he came, making several delirious final plunges as the explosions rippled through his taut body.
He collapsed on her, and they lay motionless, with the sound of their hoarse breathing echoing off the walls, of the cabin. Brett made a mental note to add her riame to his collection of easy makes-no trouble at all. She was good, too; he'd have to hang onto this one a while longer. He'd give her a good education in the finer points of screwing before he returned her to Don.
Besides, she's so close to home, he thought.
Brett caressed Marion's breasts and kissed her lightly on her perspiration-covered forehead while she was catching her breath. He was still with her; hadn't lost any of his hard-on. She held him close to her, sighing gratefully.
They made love once more before falling into a deep, satisfied sleep.
The sun streaming in the window fell on Brett, waking him first, and he glanced down at Marion's naked form. She was really built, there was no denying that. Her body belonged under a man, and now he was sure he could be that man whenever he felt like it. She was just like all the rest-good, solid moral girls until they were near a man who could make them hot.
He slid off the bed and walked to the shower, picking up his bathing suit from the chair where he'd left it. The cool water felt good as he scrubbed at his body. He felt the heat in his loins again as he dried himself, thinking about what had happened such a short time before.
Marion was dressed when he came out from his shower. He bent down and picked up his clothes from the floor, and put them on the chair by the fireplace.
"Brett?"
"Yeah?"
"I want you to know why I let you."
"Who cares, baby? You were great, one of the best I've had. You don't need a reason for that kind of fun."
"I care," she snapped. "I almost had to beg you for it, and now you think I'm a tramp. Well, I'm not!"
"Okay, baby. If you have to have a reason, it's ail right with me. I know you're no tramp. It's just that I come in the large economy size." He rubbed the bulge at the front of his suit.
"Oh, you smug bastard!" she screamed, and ran out of the cabin.
Brett knew he'd just blown a damn good thing, and he didn't intend to leave it that way. He bent down to pick up a towel and followed her out the door.
She was sitting on a log near the water, staring out at the small waves. He walked up behind her and sat down in the sand.
"I'm sorry, baby. I guess you're different from the rest. I find you hard to understand, that's all."
That always got to the bitches, and Brett knew it.
She turned and fell into his lap, her arms going around his neck. Brett kissed her gently and felt her body go limp.
She'll want it again soon, he thought, glad that his little speech had done the trick again.
"Brett, oh, Brett. You're my last hope. Please let me tell you. You've got to understand why I let you."
"Sure, honey, sure."
He stroked her breasts through the thin blouse, and rubbed his thigh up against her long body, pushing her legs apart.
"I want a baby. Don doesn't. He only makes love to me when he's drunk now. Usually, he makes me do everything for him, and then leaves me hanging."
"That's tough, honey, really tough."
"If I get pregnant, I know everything will be all right. But he says it's too soon yet. He wants us to be financially set before we have any children, but it's tearing us apart. I'll be an old woman before he's ready. He was drunk last weekend, and he really let loose. Don't you see, if I'm pregnant now he'll think it's his."
"Sure baby, I understand. I don't blame you a bit."
"Oh, Brett, you're wonderful. You're so much better in bed than he is, too. I haven't felt like this since my honeymoon. You know, your equipment is so big it almost scares me. I thought you'd tear me apart at first."
She kissed him, and he slid his hand between her legs. He stroked her thighs, then climbing higher.
"Later, Brett. Let's go for a swim. Then I'll make us a bite to eat. We still have to get the cabin ready for the party."
The hell with this later crap, Brett thought. He would have her damn soon, but he'd make her beg for it again.
"Okay, I'm ready for a dip," he said.
"I'll have to go back and get my bikini," she said, and turned back toward the cabin.
"Why? It's private here, and we aren't exactly strangers."
"Well, you've got your suit on," she protested, turning back to face him.
He put his thumbs in the waistband of his suit and pushed it down over the growing mass of flesh between his legs. She watched the suit hit the sand, then her gaze went back to him, traveling down from the chest matted with curly blond hair, over his muscled abdomen to the top of his thighs.
He walked toward her and kissed her lightly on the lips, touching her belly with his swelling cock in a light caress. Then he turned and walked slowly toward the rolling waves.
She threw off her clothes and with a gleeful laugh joined him. They swam out toward the float and played in the surf for half an hour, nude and uninhibited.
Brett had her where he wanted her, and he knew it. He didn't care what she told herself to make it seem right. All she really wanted was what he had to offer, and he was more than willing to oblige until he got tired of her anyway, which had never seemed to take too long with other broads.
They finished a quick lunch of ham and eggs, and Brett poured himself a Scotch. He was wearing his bathing suit, and Marion had slipped into her bikini. He felt himself getting ready again as he watched her move around. He could see into the top of her bikini, and enjoyed watching the soft, round curves jounce as she moved.
The bottom of the bikini was so small it barely covered her loins and he could see patches of dark, curly hair peering over the top edge. When she turned, he was treated to a view of her near-naked cheeks rubbing together as she walked around the room.
"Brett, will you get some wood and build a fire?"
He glanced up at the thermometer over the door. It read 85 degrees.
"Are you crazy? Look at the temperature. It's hotter than hell in here."
"I know, but it cools down quickly in the evening, and a fire's always good at a party. It seems to make everyone feel sexy. At least, it sure turns the trick for me-you know, on the bear rug in front of the fire and everything."
"Hell, baby, if it turns you on, just call me Mr. Fire Builder."
He stood up and stretched, letting her have a good view of his hard-on. Marion couldn't take her eyes off his trunks as he walked toward the door.
"Like what you see, doll?"
"You're really fantastic. I've never seen anything like it before. How can you do it? Don's always finished for the day after one tumble."
"Too bad you didn't meet me first, baby, that's all. I'll give you a better view after I get the fire going."
"No, Brett, I've got too much to do," she said, finally turning her eyes from him.
She busily cleaned and arranged things as he worked at getting the fire going and building up a supply of wood that would last through the night. She was fluffing up the pillows on the big bed when he finally finished the task.
He came up behind her and kissed her neck, reaching for her breasts.
"No, I've got too much to do, I said!"
Brett knew she was just playing hard to get. He backed off a few steps and stood staring at her for a minute.
"I bet I can convince you, you're not as busy as you think."
"Don't you think I have any will power?"
"Well, let's see, okay?"
"Why not? You're not all that irresistible."
"C'mon over here for just five minutes."
"Okay, hero, you've got five minutes."
She walked over to him, and he could tell she wouldn't put up too much of a fight. Her eyes were already glazed slightly, and he could almost smell her need.
He pulled her onto the bed and slid his hand between her thighs, moving back and forth, slowly and gently at first, then faster and with more pressure. He popped one swollen, hard-tipped nipple out of the bikini with his other hand and lowered his lips to it, tasting its tangy sweetness. He let his tongue run around the tip slowly, keeping his hand in steady motion between her legs. Methodically, he ran his lips over the hard point again and again, twisting and stretching it.
She started to raise and lower her hips rhythmically, and her breath came in short gasps.
When she was lost in passion, squirming wildly, she reached for his trunks. Her hand slipped down inside over his muscled belly and encircled his rod. He shook her off and stepped back, pulling the front of his suit out and stripping it off.
"Okay, honey, five minutes is up. And if you're too busy, I'll just go over in the corner and amuse myself," he said, as he held his cock out to her. She watched the blood throbbing through it, then tore at her bikini.
"Oh, Brett, you were right. I'm not too busy. Please, Brett, please."
"Come here and get what you want, Marion."
He stood there and smiled at her as she struggled off the bed.
"Crawl!"
"Oh, Brett, I need you."
Marion crawled toward him, and his smile broadened. When she reached him she tried to stand, but he put his hand on her head and held her down.
"Kiss me," he said.
"No, Brett, I don't do that even for Don," she whined.
"You're going to lose a lot more than Don has to offer if you don't, baby. Kiss me!"
She leaned forward under his urging, and he felt the tingling sensation of her lips and tongue. Suddenly she tried to pull back, but he held her.
"I'll tell you when to stop," he grunted.
She reached up and caressed his inner thighs and the dangling spheres of his testicles while she bobbed her head. Brett stiffened and moaned.
"Okay, baby, enough. Next time, don't tell me you're too busy."
"I won't Brett, I won't. Please love me now, Brett, please."
He picked her up and carried her to the bed. He laughed to himself and wondered how she would explain kissing his rod so it would seem all right to her.
CHAPTER THREE
When Don arrived at the cabin at 5:30, Marion had supper ready.
Brett felt a little uncomfortable during the meal, since he was sure Don would be able to guess what had taken place between Marion and himself. He could still smell the musky odor from their last bout on the bed. It didn't seem to register with Don, though. He was happy and complimented them on the warm feeling of the cabin.
Warm? Brett thought. Man, you should have been here this afternoon. This place was boiling from love-making. Poor bastard, you can't see any further than your job. What a way to live-no appreciation for the finer things.
He looked at Marion and smiled, his eyes stripping away her clothing.
"Yeah, we've been warming it up all right, making it real homey."
Marion ignored his comment and cleared the dishes away. Then she turned to Brett and said, "You'd better go and pick up Sharon. She's your date for tonight. I'll give you her address."
She wrote down a number and street name oh the pad by the stove, and handed the paper to him.
"Who is she?" Brett asked.
"She's staying with Don's new manager and his wife for the summer. She's his niece or something, and they didn't want to leave her home alone. She could have come here with them, but I thought you'd like to pick her up yourself."
"What's she like?"
"You'll see. I think you'll like her. She's twenty-two, and she's engaged to a student at some Eastern college, so she won't be out to trap you."
"Well, anything to help my friend get ahead at work," Brett said, and grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
After he left, Don put his arm around Marion and kissed her lightly on the neck.
"Sure is nice of him to help us out like this. He probably had something to do that would interest him a lot more than looking after the boss's niece. He's the most unselfish guy I know."
Marion turned to him and laughed. "She's young and has a good figure. I don't think he'll be too unhappy about it."
Don laughed. "No, I guess you're right. I keep looking at her as the manager's niece, and forget that she's a good-looking girl."
Brett let the car wind out on the freeway. He liked the feeling of speed as he raced down the highway. He felt good; Marion had been just what he needed. These one-night stands he'd been getting lately were all well and good, but what he really needed was a steady, bouncing bunny for a few weeks-and Marion was one of the best he'd ever had.
He had scored with six different broads since he'd moved into Don's, and Marion made seven. That was a pretty good average for any man. Yes, he was happy with himself.
Maybe Sharon would be number eight. Why not? She'd probably had it steady while she was back East, and would be getting pretty anxious for a little bit about now. Brett would be glad to accommodate her if she was any kind of a looker; after all, Marion hadn't drained him.
"There's still enough left for you, Sharon," he said out loud.
He glanced at his watch. 7:15-early yet. He pulled onto the first turn=off he came to on the freeway and started to look for a bar. He needed a drink; Marion had been a real hellion in bed.
Poor broad was starved, he thought to himself with a chuckle. Who could blame her for making a glutton of herself?
He saw a bar and pulled up to it, lit up a smoke and walked toward the glass doors. Once inside, he let his eyes get used to the dimly lit room. The smell of stale beer and old smoke filled his nostrils.
There were only six people in the bar; Brett guessed it to be a relatively quiet sort of place, anyway. The bartender was short and muscular-probably an ex-wrestler," Brett thought.
The couple in the end booth looked as though they were too young to be in a bar. They were well-plastered, and the guy had his hand on the girl's knee under the scarred wooden table.
Hope he gets a piece, Brett thought.
Two men were sitting at the end of the bar closest to him, and during pauses in their conversation they were staring at the only other person in the place, a none-too-young blonde.
She was sitting stiffly at the bar, and Brett slowly stripped her with his eyes. Plain face; big boobs, too big if anything; big nipples sticking out and slightly upturned; belly slightly rounded; nice round hips; good solid thighs; buttocks chubby but still firm; long, shapely legs flowing into slim ankles. She wasn't young, but her body was in fair shape.
He felt his shorts stretching as he walked toward the other end of the bar. She was looking down at him, and he could see a flush come to her cheeks. "Hi. Is this seat taken?"
"Help yourself."
He ordered a Scotch and took out his cigarettes, offering one to the blonde. She took it and he lit it for her, noticing the wrinkles on her face as the flame flickered.
"Thanks," she said, turning back to her drink.
She was about 38, Brett guessed, and he wondered if she was a natural blonde. Sure would be fun to find out.
He looked at the clock over the bar. Six-thirty. He had to pick up Sharon at eight-thirty. Two hours....
"How would you like to come up to my place for a drink?" he suggested.
She nodded, and he felt her eyes travel up his body.
Let her have a good look, he thought, spreading his legs. Why not? All these bitches are the same; they all want just one thing.
"Let's go. My car's outside," he said.
The young girl in the booth was staring at him as they left, and Brett smiled at her. The kid with her gave him a dirty look, but kept his mouth shut.
Sorry, honey, Brett thought. You'll have to settle for Junior tonight.
He drove the blonde out along the freeway to a cutoff, and then down to the beach.
"Hey, I thought we were going to your place for a drink."
Brett shut off the car, smiled, and opened the built-in bar on the dash.
"All the comforts of home."
"Christ, I've never seen anything like that before."
"What'll you have, baby?"
"Bourbon, please."
He mixed two drinks and handed her one. He reached for the button to pullmanize the seats, then stopped.
Hell, she isn't worth the effort, he thought, and reached instead into the back of the car for a blanket.
She had finished her drink by the time he spread the blanket on the sand, and as he downed his she watched him again. He had a hard-on, and the briefs and slacks couldn't hide it from her gaze.
He put his empty glass down on the hood and took her in his arms. He didn't have to work her up; she was as ready as he was. He rubbed her ass and gathered the material of her skirt until it was up over the cheeks. Then he slid his hands under the elastic tops of her sheer panties. His hand dove to her pussy and he felt moistness. Man, was she ready!
He pulled her panties off, and while she held up her skirt he undid his pants and pulled them down with his briefs, noticing as he did that she was a dyed blonde.
She stroked his rod while he pulled her down to the blanket; then he was on her and in her, and she was squirming and squealing with joy.
She felt loose and well-used. Brett slipped his hands under the bouncing, fleshy butt and took a cheek in each hand. He pushed them together hard, and felt her tighten slightly. He hadn't expected much better with all the mileage she'd obviously had.
He slipped his legs over hers and forced her knees together; then his hands returned to her buttocks and pushed again. That was the best he could do. He settled down to make the most of her.
Her face was a mask of passion as he drove at her again and again. She stiffened in his arms and he felt a shudder run the whole length of her body. He kept pounding her, and soon her face was contorted again, beads of perspiration forming on her brow.
He felt himself coming, and pulled her over the summit with him. Her body thrashed against his as he finished in her.
He dropped her off at the bar as soon as he could get rid of her. She made him promise to come back the next night for a rematch, but Brett knew he wouldn't make it. The old pig would just have to settle for something less tomorrow; Brett was through with her. He wondered why he could never pass up the temptation to put the make on every available broad, at least once.
He had almost been thrown out of the Air Force for some of the situations he'd gotten himself into. While he was in Germany, he had started sleeping with his commanding officer's wife. She was almost forty and didn't really look like much, but he'd been unable to pass up the chance to get her into bed. Then the stupid bitch had told her bridge club cohorts, and the old biddies had forced him to make love to all four of them. They'd told him they would tell their husbands about his affair with the C.O.'s wife if he didn't do their bidding.
He'd made them pay for it, though, by inviting four of his buddies up to watch from the closet of the hotel room where he was to meet the broads. When he was through, he'd invited them out and told the women if they didn't take on the other four guys, he'd call the M.P.'s up and let them into the room.
They had bitched a bit, but knew they had no choice. He'd enjoyed himself immensely, watching the four guys go at them again and again. They should have been old enough to know better, stupid pigs.
Then there was that broad who'd worked in the canteen. Brett had knocked her up, and she'd tried to get the Air Force to make him marry her. He'd had to beat the hell out of her to get her off his back.
His whole hitch had been like that-one mess after another,-with broad after broad. But in the end he'd come out on top, as always. He'd left his mark all over the world.
Brett watched the floozy blonde walk back toward the bar. Poor bitch didn't have much chance to get what she wanted any more, he thought. But what the hell, they were all the same to him. A lay was a lay.
So that's number eight, he thought smugly. This could turn into a record month.
He pulled the car onto the highway and checked his watch. Eight-o-five. He still had twenty-five minutes.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was becoming obvious to Brett that Bill and Andrea Simpson lived in the most exclusive part of town. The closer he got to the address Marion had given him, the more impressive the houses became.
Brett could remember Don having said something about Bill inheriting a large fortune from his grandfather, with the stipulation that he was to work as manager in at least four of the family stores for three years each before he could collect the whole bundle-sort of learning the business the hard way.
I wouldn't mind trying that myself for this kind of money, he thought, as he looked at the house. Hell, this is no house; it's a mansion.
He drove down the long, circular driveway bordered by huge oaks. The house and grounds covered almost the whole block. He parked his car behind a powder blue Jag and climbed out.
Man, this is the way to live, he thought, as he climbed the marble stairs and pushed the button.
The door opened and Bill Simpson asked him in. He'd met Bill once before, at Don's, and he'd found he had to marvel at the older man. Bill was about forty-eight, Brett guessed, with graying hair and a middle-aged spread, but he still commanded respect with his bulk. He stood a full six feet, and had broad shoulders.
He must have been quite a man in his younger days, Brett thought.
"Hello, Mr. Simpson. I've come to pick up Sharon."
"Oh yes, you're Brett, aren't you? Come in, son."
He led Brett into a library-den combination, with a bar built into the bookshelves. It was a masculine room, and Brett relaxed completely in the overstuffed leather chair the older man waved him into.
"Drink?"
"Yes, thanks, Scotch."
While Bill fixed his drink, Brett surveyed the room more carefully. There was a picture over the bar.
The grandfather, Brett thought. This room probably hasn't changed since the old man built the place. The floor was covered in thick carpeting, and the windows were richly curtained in velvet.
This is living all right, he thought. Put a fire in that huge fireplace, a drink in one hand and a firm breast in the other, and sink down onto the carpet to make love.
"If you'll excuse me, Brett, I have to finish dressing. Sharon will be down in a minute. However, if she doesn't get here soon, just fix yourself another drink and make yourself at home." He started to leave, then turned back.
"Oh, and by the way, son, thanks for taking Sharon tonight. It means a lot to me. I hate to see that girl sitting at home alone."
Oh God, what have I let myself in for? She must be a real dog, thought Brett.
He relaxed in his chair, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the excellent Scotch.
He was about to get up and fix himself a new drink when the door opened and an absolute angel walked into the room.
"Sharon?" he murmured.
"Yes, I'm Sharon. You must be Brett." She smiled, showing deep dimples, and walked across the room to where he was sitting.
He took her in with his eyes, from her long blonde hair to her tiny feet. Her breasts were full and high, her waist was unbelievably small, and her hips flared out beautifully. Her tight dress revealed long, graceful legs.
Brett knew he should stand up, but he was so lost in her beauty that he couldn't move.
"You ready to go?" she asked.
"Yes. I just finished my drink. Excuse me for staring, but you are a very beautiful woman."
"Well, thank you, kind sir. You've got things off to a very good start with a compliment like that."
She led the way to the door, and he watched the perfectly-formed globes of her butt move as she walked. This girl he had to have, he decided.
She sat well over on her own side of the car as they drove out, and he kept stealing glances at her. The dress had inches its way up above her knees, but she either hadn't noticed it or didn't care. Brett noticed, and cared.
He could see one milky-white inner thigh just above her stocking-top, and wanted to follow the garterbelt strap up to higher ground. Then she caught him watching and pulled the skirt down, crossing her legs.
"Smoke?" he said, pulling out his pack.
"I'll have one of mine," she said, reaching into her purse. "Thanks just the same."
He got her a light, and as she leaned forward he was treated to the tops of her beautiful breasts.
"Like to stop for a drink first?" he asked.
"No, thanks. I'm dying to see this cabin. I've heard so much about it."
"Oh? What in particular interests you?"
She turned to look at him, putting her knees up on the seat and tucking her legs under her. For a split second he saw those enticing thighs again.
"It's the privacy, I think. Uncle Bill says if you go up there alone you're cut off from everything by the cliffs."
"Yeah, I guess it is pretty secluded. But you won't be alone tonight, I'm afraid."
"No, but I still want to see it."
"I'll tell you what. How about if I take you up again tomorrow, and we can spend the afternoon there, just the two of us." .
"I'd like to, but I've got to play tennis tomorrow. Maybe some other time."
Brett didn't like to be turned down. He'd been played for a sucker once, and had made up his mind that no broad would ever take him again.
He had to have this girl; it was more important now than ever. She had turned him down once; therefore, she was number one on his list for seduction. No broad ever turned down Brett Hansen more than once.
"I leave town Monday for six weeks training. How about some night after I get back? We could bring up some food and build a fire on the beach. The water around here is great for swimming at night."
"Give me a call and I'll let you know, Brett. It sounds great."
Brett let it drop at that and drove on to the cabin in silence. He was thinking hard now; this girl was no pushover. He'd have to use a lot of his tricks to bed her down.
There were two other couples at the cabin when they got there: the Johnstons, who lived across the lane from Don and Marion, and Don's old manager, Jim Lang, and his wife.
Jim and Janice Lang were the most congenial couple Brett had ever met; they could have fit in anywhere. They had three kids, and got along just great with each other.
Phil Johnston, on the other hand, was a bastard. He was only 29, but weighed close to 210 and stood a dumpy 5'8". Brett thought he was just the type to smoke cigars; it sort of fit him, with his prematurely balding head and his overstuffed build. The Johnstons would never have gotten invited anywhere if it hadn't been for Betty. She was 26, slightly plump, and a real ball. She was the life of the party, while her husband sat glumly in the corner getting soused.
Brett introduced Sharon, around, then got drinks for the two of them. She thanked him and started talking with Marion.
Marion may have bitched at Don for having the party for the Simpsons, but she was sure laying it on thick for Sharon's benefit. She really knew how to build up her husband's talents. Brett gathered that was how Don had gotten as far ahead as he had.
She's just priming herself for old man Simpson, Brett thought.
Betty waved Brett over to the chair in front of the fireplace as he turned away from Marion and Sharon. He took a quick look around to check for Phil. When he saw him at the bar getting a drink, he sauntered across to Betty.
As he crossed toward her he surveyed her body. Her 26 years had been good to her. She was plump, but pleasantly so. Brett had never seen a bigger set of cans on any other broad. They were just like beach balls.
He gave her a big smile and sat on the arm of the chair. His vantage point gave him a view of acres of bosom. Betty was always teasing him, and she didn't let him down this time. She caught his glance, and with a smile leaned closer toward him.
"Afraid you'll fall in?"
"A man sure could get lost in there, Betty-but what a way to go!"
She laughed and he joined her. She was fun, a real gas.
"I see you're chasing that sweet young thing over there. She looks like jailbait to me."
"Oh, I don't know. I think she looks like a lot of woman."
"Not half as much as me," she retorted, with another thundering laugh.
"Yes, but you're not free. If you were, I'd drop her in a second. You know that, Betty."
"Oh, you dirty old man," she said, and squeezed his thigh.
They laughed together again, and he told her the latest joke he'd heard. She appreciated it, as always, and he left her roaring with laughter.
Bill and Andrea arrived just as he walked up to the bar. Brett had never met Andrea Simpson, and didn't pay much attention to her as they arrived. When he'd finished fixing his drink and turned around, he immediately regretted not having greeted them personally.
Andrea was a real surprise. She couldn't have been over 34; more likely 32, he guessed. She was wearing a tight-fitting dress of some soft, white material, and looked like she must have been poured into it. Her large, round breasts poked out boldly, and the cleft between them seemed a mile deep. The V-neckline plunged almost to her slightly rounded belly, and the insides of both breasts bounced in full view. Her hips were a full 36 inches, which made her about 39-22-36, Brett estimated. She was one hell of a lot of woman.
Brett suddenly felt sorry for Bill; at 48 years old, he must be run ragged, trying to keep up with her in bed.
Sorry, hell, you idiot, he told himself. He's the luckiest bastard in this room.
Andrea turned to greet Marion, and her back view was exposed to Brett. He could see the two creases under the round globes of her buttocks.
Those two lush mounds belong in a man's hands, he thought. My hands, preferably.
Marion was introducing her now. She knew everyone except Brett and the Langs. He watched Marion lead her across the room to Jim and Janice.
Brett was still watching her buttocks when Betty walked up to him and said, "Don't stare, lover boy."
"Huh?"
"Don't stare. That poor woman must feel nude. Besides, you're showing."
Brett looked down at his crotch and then at Betty.
"You're right. Guess I'd better sit down for a while."
She laughed and walked toward the bar, swinging her hips, mimicking Andrea.
Brett grabbed the nearest chair as Marion started leading Andrea across the room toward him. He tried to look at her face, but he just couldn't keep his eyes off those half-revealed breasts.
"Andrea, this is Brett Hnasen. Brett, Andrea Simpson."
He stood up and tore his gaze from her twin glories, trying to look into her eyes. He took the hand offered to him, and didn't want to let go when she moved it away.
Brett noticed for the first time that she had red hair. He'd been so interested in her other equipment that he hadn't even seen her hair. It was cut short, and suited her sleek build.
"I've been looking forward to meeting you, Mrs.
Simpson. I've heard a lot about you."
"All good, I hope," she said with a smile. "Please don't call me Mrs. Simpson; it makes me feel ancient. I'll make a deal. I promise not to call you Mr. Hansen if you promise not to call me Mrs. Simpson."
"Oaky," Brett said. "It's a deal."
She smiled again and moved off toward Bill, who was talking (with Don and Jim Lang by the bar. Brett watched her rear view again and wished he could have her alone for just one hour. She could be sure he wouldn't call her Mrs. Simpson once in the whole hour.
First things first, though, he thought, as he peered around the smoke-filled room, looking for Sharon. There she was, talking to Janice. She was probably hearing about the kids and happy home life.
He walked over and broke things up by asking Sharon to dance. She accepted with a smile, probably happy to be saved from seeing the family pictures.
Brett was a good dancer, and he. knew it. He and Sharon became one as they moved with the music, and Brett held her close, stroking her lower back slowly with his hand. He wanted to go farther, but he knew he had to take this one easy if he wanted to score at all.
When the dance was over, he led her over to the bar for another drink. This one he mixed twice as strong as the first. She took it from him and followed his lead to a couch by the fire. He sat beside her and put his arm over the back of the couch.
"Now, I'd like to hear more about this beautiful girl I've just met. So far, I know her name is Sharon, but I'd like to know much more."
The firelight played over her lovely face and soft curving body. She reminded him of someone he had known before, but he couldn't remember whom. She was the answer to any man's wish, the kind of broad a guy always sleeps with night after night in his dreams.
"I've only known you for an hour, and you want my life story. Okay, I'll make a deal. I'll tell you about myself if you'll return the favor when I'm finished."
"Okay, you've got a deal."
"I'm twenty-two, and engaged to a law student back East. I'll be getting married in two years, when he graduates, if everything works out. I'm a natural blonde, and I come from good Boston stock. My family owns a supermarket chain, and I collect stuffed animals and play tennis. I'm visiting my Uncle Bill for the summer, and I'll be returning to Boston in September. There. Now it's your turn."
"Okay. I'm twenty-six, single, and at the moment a confirmed bachelor. I just finished a hitch in the Air Force a month and a half ago. I come from fair California stock, and am now in training as a commercial pilot. And I collect beautiful, well-rounded, twenty-two-year-old blondes who come from good Boston stock."
They laughed, and he brought his arm around her shoulder. He finished his drink, and with a little friendly urging got her to do the same. He then returned to the bar for refills.
Two more and she'll be gone, he thought, as he mixed the drinks. Then he would have a few more questions for a certain cute little blonde to answer.
They talked and danced for the next three hours. Brett didn't question her further. He did, however, manage to get three more drinks into her.
At one-thirty, Sharon asked him to take her home, because of her tennis date in the morning.
"Sure, honey," he said, unable to hide his pleasure at the chance of getting her alone.
Sharon stumbled as they walked toward the car, and Brett caught her by the waist, his hand glancing off one of those beautiful boobs as he did. She's really gone, he thought happily. This is going to be easier than I thought.
They started down the road toward the freeway, and Brett began to look for a spot to pull off.
"Brett."
"Yeah, honey?"
"Find a place to pull off, will you?"
Man, this broad reads my mind, he thought.
"Sure, if you want to, Sharon."
He found a road heading toward the beach, and gunned the convertible down the dark passage between the trees. When he was out of sight of the road that led to the cabin, he stopped the car, slid across the seat and reached for her ripe body.
"Hold it, Brett."
He stopped as she put her hand on his chest.
"What are you trying to pull, baby? First you tell me to get you alone, then to park, and now this. What's going on?. Do you get some kind of kick out of teasing?"
"Brett, I like you, and I'd like to go out with you again. But before I do, there's something I've got to say."
He sank back in his seat and pulled out his cigarettes.
"So tell me," he said, as he pushed in the lighter on the dash.
"Brett, I love my fiance-or at least I think I do. He's a wonderful guy. He told me to come out here, think it over, and decide for sure. I won't be seeing him for three months, and he says if I still want him when I get back, he'll be more than willing. But he wants me to go out and be with other men, so I can be sure."
She was pretty drunk, and slurring some of her words, but Brett could tell she was serious.
"Okay, so I'm another man. Let me get a little closer, and I'll prove it."
"That's just it, Brett. I'm a normal, healthy girl, and I haven't been a virgin for five years. But I'm not a nympho. I'll lay it on the line for you. I haven't slept with anybody but my fiance since I met him, and if I can have my way I'd rather not. It's just that I'm not sure, and he says I've got to be sure or he doesn't want me."
"Any man who doesn't want you must be a fool. Why don't you forget him and live a little?"
"I don't mean that way. Is that all you can think about? I love him and I want to marry him. Can't you understand that?"
"Honey, to me love is putting my standard equipment with a woman's standard equipment, and setting off as many skyrockets as I can."
"You've known a lot of women, haven't you?"
"Yeah, I guess I've had my share."
"Do you always get what you want with every woman you meet, Brett?"
"What are you trying to do, get my life history?"
"No, I'm just curious, that's all."
"Well, yes. I guess you could say that I've always got what I wanted in the end. Why?"
"It must make you think that all women are easy, doesn't it?"
"You show me a woman that isn't interested in a good tumble, and I'll show you a nut."
"Every woman is interested, all right, but it's not necessarily the most important thing in the world to her. A woman wants more out of life than a good sex partner."
"Yeah, but I don't want them for the rest of their lives; I just want them for an hour or so."
"That's just it. You'll never be really happy with that."
"Oh, I don't know. I'm doing pretty well so far."
"Then you're not being realistic about it, Brett. Sure, I could let you have me now, and I'd probably really enjoy it, but I've got something more important in life now. I used to feel the same way, sort of living from day to day and getting the most out of life. But it's just not that simple. There's a lot more to life than having a good time. The way I feel now, I'm riot number one any more. That guy back East comes first."
"Okay, let's say I buy that. But what he doesn't know won't hurt him. You and I could go at it, and he'd never know. How would that affect your arrangement with him?"
"I'd know, Brett, and it just wouldn't be fair to him. If I marry this guy, and I think I will, I'm not going to cheat on him. He's a good guy, and he just doesn't deserve that kind of a deal from me."
"Well, you're not married yet. And as you say, you're no virgin. So what's one more going to matter?"
"That's the attitude lots of girls have, even after they're married. They give it to their husbands all the time, so why not the guy next door? No, Brett, I don't want to do it that way. It doesn't matter what happened before I met this guy; I have to remain true to him now, if he's what I really want."
"Are you sure you want him?"
"Pretty sure. I'll let you know when I've made up my mind."
"It's sure a waste of that lovely body, baby. Forget this guy, and let's see what we can do together."
"Haven't you ever been in love, Brett?"
"Yeah, once, in England. Her first name was Linda.
There was a broad that was really suited to her name-Linda Love. Yeah, I was in love all right."
She laughed, and he joined her as he passed her a cigarette.
"You're hopeless," she said, "but you're nice anyway. I want you to make out with me a little, but I also want you to promise to stop whenever I tell you. I don't know if I'll be able to hold you off; I don't even know if I want to. But you've got to give me your word that you'll stop if I tell you to."
"You mean I can try anything I want, provided I stop if you tell me to?"
"That's it."
"Okay, it's a deal. But I have to warn you, I'm considered a pretty good lover."
She laughed as they shook hands on the deal; then he started the car.
"Leaving, Brett?"
"Sure. You wouldn't want me to take advantage of you while you were under the influence, would you?"
"I thought you might."
"Uh-uh, sugar, when you and I bounce into my kind of love, you'll be sober and begging for it."
"We'll see, Brett. Don't be too sure. Remember, I said he's a wonderful guy."
"Well, you'll have to try me and see how we measure up," he said, with a grin.
CHAPTER FIVE
Brett stretched and rolled over onto his back as he heard Don's car leave the carport. He'd give Marion five minutes; if she didn't come to him by then, he'd get up and shower. But he was pretty sure she'd come, and he was prepared for her.
He had returned last night after six weeks of hard studying and flying. He'd sat up until three in the morning talking with Don and Marion. He hadn't had a chance to talk to Marion alone, but he was sure she had missed him more than Don would ever realize. He'd make up for it though; those long weeks without broads had made him ready and able. And it was Saturday, so Don was working. If Brett had his way, Marion would be an awfully tired woman by the time Saturday night rolled around.
Brett didn't have-to wait long. There was a small knock, then she walked in.
"Mind if I come in?"
"Not at all, baby. I was waiting for you." He tossed off the covers, exposing his nude body. Marion quivered slightly as she noticed his erection.
Her sheer pink baby-dolls hid none of her beauty. The magnificent, creamy tits swung freely under the thin fabric, the nipples hard-tipped with lust. The morning sun revealed her flaring hips; and nestling between her rounded thighs, the triangle of darkness invited his exploration.
She moved toward him and grasped his dick gently but firmly, sending ripples of pleasure shooting through his body.
"Welcome back, Brett. I've missed you."
"You mean you've missed that," he said, looking down at his tool in her hand.
"So much that I was dreaming about it night and day."
It was good to have her come in to him, Brett mused. Although Don payed the bills and supplied most of the necessities of life, Marion came to Brett for the biggest necessity of all. Brett knew she would willingly throw away all the security Don afforded her, if she could spend the rest of her life in bed with him.
Women were only interested in one thing, and no matter what anyone said, Brett was convinced of that. They could hand out the words like "I love you," but in the end those were only words. Marion had no doubt said those same words to Don a million times, and yet here she was, playing with him right in the very house that Don was working hard to pay for. No broad would ever put Brett Hansen in that position. He'd learned his lesson, and would never make that mistake again.
Why marry, if he could simply pick a broad up from some other poor bastard who was stupid enough to trust a woman and marry her? It had never been hard for Brett to get a married woman. He simply went to parties and looked around. Somewhere, he would see a couple bitching at each other. He'd move in right then, with the right sympathetic words, and nine out of ten times he'd get himself a willing partner for a tumble. The broad would tell herself she was getting even with her husband, and that was how she'd justify it, but Brett knew what the real reason was-she just had to try out a new guy to see if it was any different with him.
Nothing made Brett happier than to show married broads that they were getting short-changed in the sex department by their husbands. He always gave them the best time he could, because he knew they'd regret having married the guy once they'd been laid by Brett Hansen. Also, they were always ready for a rematch once they'd taken the first step. ' Marion fell right into form. She had given herself a reason to climb into bed with him once, and now she was always ready to do it again. He'd made it so good for her that she'd never be satisfied with her husband again.
Brett liked to specialize in married women. In his opinion, they were always the best in bed. It was nice to have a woman who knew her way around once she was nude with a man. Some guys raved about virgins, but any professional woman chaser knew that the .best stuff came with a wedding ring-preferably, some other man's.
There was nothing safer, either, than rolling into the sack with a married broad. They didn't worry about getting pregnant; they didn't ask a guy to be extra gentle; and they didn't try to sell him on the idea of a permanent relationship. All they did was throw their entire bodies into a good, solid tumble.
Yes, you can have your virgins, buddies, Brett thought. Just leave me all that luscious married stuff with hot pants.
He didn't have to beat around the bush with married stuff either. They knew what the words meant, and they didn't blush when he let them know he wanted them. They either gave him a yes, or they forgot it ever happened.
Brett's favorite approach was to walk up to a married woman at a party and ask her to dance. When she was nestled in his arms, his hands would begin to lightly caress her buttocks. Then, out of the blue, he'd let her have it.
"I'll bet your husband doesn't give you enough." Or maybe, "I'd give my right arm to sleep with you." Sometimes, if the broad was drunk, he'd be even more blunt about what he wanted to do to her.
No sweet little morsel had ever left him on the dance floor. Sometimes, one would avoid him for the rest of the night, or another might say she simply wasn't interested. But if he tried five, he'd always find at least one who'd jump at the chance to spread her legs for a new stud.
Why not? Most of their husbands were tired of the same old thing. It became a sort of a twice-a-week chore. Well, any man who let a woman's body bore him deserved to have his wife sharing her lust with another man.
Coming back to the present wife in his presence, Brett asked, "Marion, how often do you and Don have sex?"
"What?"
"How often do you and Don do it?"
"Oh, Brett, let's not talk about him."
"I want to know, baby."
"Okay. It's hard to say, but I guess we average about once a month. It used to be more often, until I told him I might try to get pregnant. He usually checks the calendar each time before we do it. When he's drunk, though, he sometimes forgets."
"No wonder you've got the hots! Christ, any normal married woman needs it at least twice a week. And baby, you're far above normal."
"He offers to do me manually any time I want, because he knows I need it more often, but I hate it that way."
"I don't blame you, baby. Especially when you can get what you're holding." He looked toward his rod again.
She leaned forward and kissed him deeply, her tongue searching his mouth. It was a long kiss, and when she pulled away they were both breathing hard.
"How does he do it, baby? Does he work you up good first?"
"He doesn't even bother with that any more, Brett. He thinks all he has to do is climb on and start riding. It's horrible. I'm never ready when he starts. By the time I'm hot for him, he's finished."
Brett had heard the same story from most of the married broads he'd had, or a similar one, anyway. Husbands just didn't treat their wives the way lovers did. Christ, what a way to take a woman! How in hell could a guy be so bloody ignorant? For Brett, there was very little pleasure in taking a woman who remained inert and just let him hump away at her. He knew that to have a worthwhile roll in the hay, he had to get the broad hot to trot.
Marion was still stroking his cock, and he finally pulled it away from her not wanting to let her push him over the brink. He had much better plans in mind.
He raised the upper part of his body and turned to put his arms around her, cupping one of her jutting buttocks in each hand. He moved them slowly, gently squeezing them together and pulling them apart and letting them bounce back into position.
"Oh, Brett, it's been unbearable. Don't go away again, please."
"You like it that much, do you, baby? Well, that's okay by me. I like nothing better than slipping into that silky sheath of yours."
He bent low over her and kissed her left thigh, his lips leaving a trail across it to the other thigh.
His hand stroked the already moist panties, massaging her downy treasure through the almost transparent material.
"That's where I belong, baby, right there."
She clutched his shoulders and pulled his face to her. He slid one hand up her buttocks until he found the elastic top of her pants. Then he eased them down past her thighs. He kissed her belly, holding her to him with his hands pressed on her taut buttocks.
"Kick them all the way off, baby," he told her. "The people in this room go to bed in the raw."
Marion stripped the panties the rest of the way down her legs and kicked them aside. Her breasts bounced into full view as the top came off and floated to the floor. He raised himself and took the resilient mounds into his hands, lifting and caressing them. They began to sweU and pulse under his experienced, manipulating fingers. The points strained and pushed at his palms, growing and hardening as her body reacted to the desire he was kindling in her.
Brett's mouth moved to her right breast, and he took the eager tip between his lips. He rolled and sucked it gently, then his tongue lifted and sandwiched it against the roof of his mouth.
Her hands went to his shoulders, the. fingernails digging at his flesh. He returned her stimulating action by bringing his teeth to bear on the solid nipple. His mouth moved slowly from side to side as he drew his teeth back and forth over the sensitive crest, of her firm cone.
He relinquished his hold, turned to her left breast, and began giving it the same treatment as the first. Marion was moaning and thrusting her hips against his chest. Then his head sank between her thighs, and he kissed her exposed pussy.
"Ohhh! Now, Brett, now!" she wailed.
She pushed him back on the bed, and he opened his arms to her waiting body. As she crawled on top of him, pulling the covers over them, he watched her fantastic body shuddering with passion. The tips of her breasts dug into his chest when he kissed her, and her tongue lashed at his.
Brett worked his legs between hers and kept his hands busy gently massaging her thighs and buttocks. Moving his hips slowly, he drew the tip of his cock along the cleft of her cunt. Marion's hands slipped through his hair as her lips found his again and again.
"This time you ride me, honey. Set your own pace and have yourself a ball."
She raised herself enough for him to complete their union and began to undulate her hips.
Brett lay back and relaxed, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensations her body was giving him. She rotated, moving in slow up and down movements, twitching little inner muscles and making him groan with pleasure.
Her hard-peaked, mountainous tits swung back and forth across his chest, and he felt the sizzling heat of her nipples leaving trails of pleasure in the matted hair.
He caught a boob in each hand and squeezed, while he shuddered in final ecstasy and pumped his pleasure juices into her again and again in violent bursts.
Marion moaned as Brett released her quivering breasts and fell back, exhausted.
"That was nice, but you finished so fast. You're not going to leave me high and dry, are you? Please don't, Brett. I've had that too many times with Don."
He laughed, moving a small muscle in his still erect rod.
"Does that feel like I'm leaving, baby? That was just number one. Remember what I told you-you're in the driver's seat this time. You've got a green light. Lean on the gas pedal."
They reached the climax of their passions together the next time, then collapsed, completely exhausted.
"Oh, Brett, that was wonderful! I haven't felt like that in years."
"Practice, honey-that's what does it. You've just got to practice until you're perfect. You ready for another try?"
"Don't you ever get enough, Brett?"
"There isn't enough of this stuff available to satisfy me, baby."
"Well, I've had it for now. I just want to rest for a while."
"You give up too easily," he said, as he slipped his hand down her tummy and between her thighs.
She moaned and spread her legs slightly. Brett's hand began to move, and soon Marion was squirming with passion again.
He rolled on top of her, and she welcomed his entry. He worked at her slowly, using long strokes. His hand found its way below her and began tickling the crease of her ass. She quickened the pace and began moaning deeply. Brett moved one finger purposefully, and gave her what she wanted.
"Oh, God, Brett, that feels good!" she cried, as the finger penetrated.
He was giving her double pleasure now, and she showed her appreciation with wilder gyrations of her hips. He doubted if she'd ever had it like this before.
"Oh, Brett! You're driving me crazy! Ohhh!"
Her body arched and tightened as the pleasure ripped through her, then Brett let himself go and joined her in ecstasy.
They slept for an hour, and Brett woke up first. He shoved the sheet off them slowly and caressed her nude body with his eyes.
Her hair was down, and a shining lock fell onto her forehead. She was a beautiful girl, with her small nose and pouting, sensuous mouth. Her body glistened in the sunlight, and he couldn't resist stroking one of her breasts. It's nipple was still partly swollen from their lovemaking.
She opened her eyes slowly, almost purring as he lightly caressed her nipple. It burgeoned and grew as he paid homage to it. She glanced down at his tool as she felt it growing against her.
"Brett, I'm kind of sore. Let's wait for a while, honey."
He rolled on his back and thrust his hips upward.
"Baby, I'm sorry you're sore, but I've got this large problem, and you've just got to help me out. There are other ways, baby-and you are either going to get sorer, or try one of them out."
"Okay, Brett, I'll try anything once." She kissed him and he stoked her back lightly, taking in the luxurious feeling of the smooth curves of her buttocks with each stroke.
"Just like at the cabin, honey. You remember. Kiss me the way you did at the cabin."
He slid his hand between her legs, brushing it back and forth lightly.
She kissed him again, and he brought his hands up. He pushed gently on her shoulders, coaxing her down. She moaned and began to slowly run her silky body along the length of his. She kissed her way down his chest and belly, over the heavily matted hair on his pubic region and finally captured hisrodwithher lips.
She had turned her body enough for his hand to reach the center of her passion, and he began to stroke her pussy, urging her on. He felt her lips sliding over his throbbing cock, sending shivers of pleasure through his whole body. Soon she had her tongue in motion, licking back and forth. His hips began to move rhythmically, and he placed his hand on her head, holding her steady and gaining deeper penetration.
He stroked her clit more rapidly, using more pressure. Soon she was bouncing like a ball, and he felt the increased delight of her teeth catching lightly at the head of his rod.
"Easy, baby," he gasped, almost beyond control. "Nice and easy."
He didn't try to hold back, and when his time was near he moved his hand faster on her cunt, bringing her up to him. He let himself go in three violent thrusts, holding her head steadily in place with his other hand. He felt her stiffen as she reached her climax with him, snorting as she moved against his hand.
Afterward, she exclaimed, "Oh, Brett, it seems so wrong, but it was wonderful! I love you!"
"No, baby, you love what I can do for you, and that's all. Next time I'll do for you what you did for me. You'll flip, getting it that way."
Marion glanced at the clock on the dresser. Noting that the time was eleven-thirty, she cried, "Oh, let me out of here! I've got to shower and get my work done!"
He laughed and smacked her fanny as she bounced out of bed and ran for the bathroom.
Brett stretched and thought back over the last few hours. Man, this was living-right in the same house with a gorgeous, willing broad and no strings attached. This was positively the best setup he'd ever had, and he had Marion right in the palm of his hand. He really did, he thought happily, as he wiped the dampness off his crotch with the sheet.
He rolled out of bed and reached for his shorts. He wanted to make a phone call while Marion was occupied.
While Marion finished her shower, Brett looked up Bill Simpson's phone number. Brett knew that the woman who answered wasn't Sharon.
"Mrs. Simpson?"
"Yes."
"This is Brett Hansen. I wonder if I could talk to Sharon, please."
"Sharon is out for the weekend, I'm afraid. She's playing in a tennis tournament. By the way, you promised not to call me Mrs. Simpson, remember?"
"Yes. Sorry. What would you like me to call you?"
"Andrea, for the time being. When I get to know you better, I'll let you call me something shorter and less formal."
"Sounds very nice. How do I get to know you better?"
"Well, if you plan to spend some time with my niece, I feel it's my duty to find out for myself what kind of person you are."
"That seems only proper, Andrea. I understand completely."
"Fine. I'll be here alone tomorrow. Why don't you come over about one? I'll have you all to myself, so I can size you up."
"I did have another engagement, but I understand how important it is that you be sure the man your niece is going out with is a gentleman, so I'll be there at one."
Brett set the phone gently in its cradle. He under-stood all right, and remembering her lush body, he was sure he could measure up to being the kind of man Andrea had in mind.
Andrea was a rich man's wife. She had more money than she knew what to do with, and lots of time on her hands to think about men. Her husband was much older than she was, and probably wasn't capable of keeping up with her sexual needs. Even if he was up to it, he no doubt spent so much time working at the stores that he didn't have enough time to spend with her.
Yes, Brett could measure up to what she wanted, all right. He'd met her type before. Andrea wanted a stud to play with during the boring hours that her husband left her alone. She was relatively young, and had probably only married Bill Simpson for the money and security he could offer her. In fact, she'd probably climbed into the sack with the purser on the ship when she and Bill were on their honeymoon.
Brett had kept this kind of whore happy before, and he was more than willing to do it again.. This was one of the best kind of setups a guy could walk into-there were plenty of fringe benefits offered if he was a good stud. Brett had got those benefits before, and he was sure that he could get them from Andrea by making that hot little body of hers quite happy.
Also, having Sharon offered as an extra attraction was a great bonus. He had to be close to her if he wanted to bed her down, and at the moment she was number one on his want list. Andrea probably had a lot of influence over the younger girl, and keeping in good with her would be a sure way to get to Sharon.
Brett would really enjoy working on that lush body of Andrea's. He liked to get what another man thought he had all tied up. It gave him a great lift to know that no man ever had a broad for good. They were always ready to give another guy a tumble if he could turn them on.
It would be especially good to get Andrea, because Bill had given her everything she ever wanted-well, almost, anyway. But Brett would be happy to give her the one thing her husband wasn't man enough to supply. It always gave him a feeling of power to climb into the sack with a rich bitch. They had lots of money, but what they really wanted was what only Brett could offer them. Yes, he was going to enjoy this to the hilt.
Brett had a shower when Marion was through, then slipped into his trunks and joined her in the kitchen. Trying to beat the heat, she had put on a very brief outfit.
She looked great in the shorts and matching halter, and he felt ready to pull her to the floor and take her again. He reached for one bouncing round breast as she crossed the room.
"Oh, no. Not now, lover. I've got a day's work to do in six hours. Go and amuse yourself elsewhere."
He laughed, opened the refrigerator and took out a beer. She tossed him a can opener and he walked through the open glass doors to the sundeck.
He slumped into a lounge and took a long drink of the cold beer. He could feel the sweat begin to bead on him already. Jeez, it was hot. And that beer sure tasted good.
Don's sundeck was the only second-story one on the block, and Brett could see the back yards of all the houses across the lane from his vantage point. He watched the people in their yards, knowing he was hidden by the louvered wooden windbreak. He had no trouble seeing them, though. He wondered if they would feel so secure behind their six-foot fences if they realized he could watch their every move.
Only one yard was occupied now. Karen and Jack McDonald were swimming in their pool. It was the only pool in the neighborhood, and had been quite popular until Jack put up his ten-foot fence. Brett didn't blame him though; every bastard in the neighborhood had freeloaded before the fence was built.
Brett studied Karen's body. She was wearing a brief white bikini, probably quite sure she was safe from prying eyes. Her dark, copper-tannedbody was a great contrast to the white of her suit. Brett was intrigued by the absence of lighter flesh areas around the edges of the bikini. Obviously, she sunbathed in the nude. He'd have to check that back yard more often, he decided with a chuckle. He'd like to see her stipped.
Watching her as she stretched out by the pool, he imagined what her nude body would be like. Small but well-formed breasts; large, upturned nipples with dark brown tips; trim waist that widened to form hips made for just one thing; all of it supported by solid, well-formed thighs and calves. He'd check that yard at least once a day from now on. That broad was too much to miss.
Maybe he should drop in for a visit. She must be lonely behind that big fence, with her husband gone so much. Jack-like his neighbor, Phil Johnston-was a welder, and worked out of town for months at a time. They usually worked together on one of the big pipeline or tower projects, and the two couples had been friends for years. A cute little chick like Karen must get pretty hot with no man around, Brett figured, He drained his beer, enjoying the icy-cold liquid.
Hell, the only friend Karen had was Betty. The two of them always stayed together when their husbands were out of town. It had been downright unneighborly of him not to befriend those two lonely women sooner, and he'd have to remedy that. The next time Jack and Phil left town on a job would be just the time for Brett Hansen to get to know their wives better.
As he watched Karen, he wondered again what she did for kicks when her husband was out of town. When Jack was gone for months at a time, she must have some way of satisfying the urge. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that when Jack hit the road again, Brett was going to find some reason to visit with Karen. A good-looking broad like that should never have to deal with such a big problem alone-not when he could give her the big answer any time she needed it. He smiled inwardly and imagined his hands were holding the firm cheeks of her ass, lifting that full, silky body up to his waiting cock.
He got up off the lounge and, after he'd pulled his trunks down at the crotch, he walked toward the sliding doors.
He crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out another beer. Marion was washing the dishes at the sink, her buttocks moving tantilizingly as she scrub-bed at a plate.
"Phil Johnston told me he was leaving for the pipeline tomorrow. Is Jack McDonald going with him again?"
"I guess so. He always has before. I think they work as a team or something."
"Must be rough to have to leave home all the time. How long will they be gone this time?"
"Betty said it would be at least two months, maybe longer."
"Oh. Well, he makes good money, anyway. And he'll be able to stay home for a couple of months when he's through, I guess."
"Yes, that's what they usually do."
Brett walked back out to the lounge and sank into it, relaxing.
His experience in the Air Force had taught him a lot about these men who left their wives periodically. They were rarely happy at home, and enjoyed the time away from their wives.
When he'd been stationed in London he'd got to know quite a few kipper sailors' wives. They were always hot and hungry for a man. Their husbands would go to sea for months at a time, and as soon as their ships slipped from the jetty, their wives were on the make for anything that wore pants.
Brett had spent many a hot night in bed with some of these part-time wives. They could hardly wait for their husbands to leave on a cruise. All of them knew their husbands would be trying to bed down any broad they met in a foreign port, and the gals weren't going to sit at home and knit until the men got back.
Some of them became play-for-pay girls as soon as the ships left, but most of them just did it for kicks. They were nice, too, those English wenches; they knew how to make a man feel his oats. Brett had been in London only two days when he'd first made up his mind that the best lay was a married broad. They knew the score, and weren't afraid to enjoy a man to the fullest extent.
Jack and Phil probably felt the same way as the kipper sailors, and maybe their wives had the same answer that the British broads had. It sure would be worth a try to find out. There was nothing nicer than climbing into bed with another man's wife and enjoying the fun and games she was supposed to be saving for her husband.
They had to get their kicks somewhere, and Brett Hansen was just the guy to help them out. Hell, why should they have to go out and look for what they wanted, when he was more than willing to fix both of them up?
Okay, Jack, he thought, you and Phil leave tomorrow, and I'll see if I can fill in for you while you're away. Christ, this could prove real interesting. Nothing like keeping it in the neighborhood. He laughed at the poor pun and emptied his beer.
He slipped his thumbs into his suit and pulled it down. Then he lifted his feet and kicked it away. Might as well make the most of this sun. Besides, the kitchen window overlooked the sundeck, and if he let Marion watch him for a while, he might get her to change her mind and let him haul her into the sack again. He closed his eyes and let the warm sun lull him to sleep.
The pressure of her hand on his rod awoke him. He smiled, enjoying the sensation of the caress.
"I finished my work early, and this sunshine looked so inviting I thought I'd join you."
The mass of flesh beneath her hand began to rise, and she squeezed lightly, adding to his pleasure. She was as naked as he, and her big tits swung freely, like balloons. He reached up and took an already swollen nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She closed her eyes, and her body shook with delight as he rolled the taut tip back and forth.
"You said you'd do for me what I did for you, remember?"
He lifted his head, took the other nipple into his mouth, and began to roll it with his tongue. Her hands went to the back of his head and urged him closer. He felt his face being buried between the two magnificent mounds as he kissed the valley between them. He took one in each hand and rubbed them against his face.
"I've wanted it that way ever since we got married, but I wouldn't ask Don for it. All he wants is his own pleasure. Will you really do it for me, Brett?"
"We'll go together, honey."
He released her, lifted the mattress off the lounge, and spread it on the sundeck.
"Get the other one, baby. We'll need lots of room."
Eagerly, she went for the mattress on the other lounge, her firm bottom bouncing with her breasts as she hurried to comply with his command.
He pulled her down to him and kissed her. His hands caressed her breasts and belly while she stroked and kneaded his ass. Her body began to move against him, and her hands went to his rod. He returned the favor, and they began stroking each other in earnest.
When she was squirming and panting, Brett reversed his position' and slipped his arms around her waist. He pulled her hips toward him and nuzzled her dark, furry triangle, and felt her lips slipping over his rod.
Her legs clamped around him, holding him close to her cunt. Brett's tongue moved hungrily, tasting the sweetness of her lust juices. Their bodies formed a film of sweat as they lipped and tongued each other in the hot sun.
Marion was moaning and twisting wildly as Brett rolled over on top of her and stroked her open inner thighs. She lifted her buttocks and thrust up to him with a passion-filled gasp. He felt her teeth biting him gently as he too soared into completion.
He fell beside her, and they struggled to regain their breath. Their chests heaved in the afternoon sun. When he could move again, Brett spun around and rested on his belly beside her.
Her hair was plastered to her face by the perspiration left from their lovemaking. Her eyes were closed, and her breasts rose and fell with her short gasps. He took a nipple into his mouth and sucked on it gently. He felt her hands stroking his lower back, and he lifted his face to hers.
"Well, was it worth waiting for, honey?"
"Oh, yes, Brett! Yes! It's so good to be with a real man!"
He bent his head and kissed the indentation in the center of her belly.
"Baby, you're the tastiest morsel I've played with in a long time."
He'd met broads with hot pants before, but Marion had to be the best. He wondered how she had kept from grabbing every man she ran into. What a stupid bastard Don was, to be passing up what she had to offer! His eyes ran over the lovely length of her and he slid slowly down on her body.
"No, Brett. I'm too sore. Aren't you satisfied yet?"
He smiled and raised himself until he was sitting lightly on her belly, his knees supporting his weight. He put his hands on either side of her breasts and pushed them together, embedding his tool in the fleshy mounds, then he moved them back and forth with his hands.
It would have been fun to finish this way, but her teeth had left him sore, too. Anyway, she'd had enough for the time being, and he didn't want to spoil a good thing by being too demanding.
He kissed her, raised himself off her body, and dropped down beside her. They relaxed and let the sun warm their exhausted bodies until late in the afternoon.
CHAPTER SIX
Brett slept late on Sunday morning. He'd been up until four o'clock with Don and Marion, drinking and playing cards.
He'd found himself continually looking at Marion and had enjoyed making her uncomfortable by taking every available opportunity to touch her body. When Don had gone into the kitchen to mix drinks, Brett had slipped his hand up under her tight skirt and had caressed her intimately. She had pushed his hand away and stood up, but her face was still flushed when Don returned with the drinks.
Brett knew he had her where he wanted her, and he got a warm feeling every time he made her suffer a little. He knew she liked what he was doing to her, and he also knew that Don wouldn't give her what she wanted when she climbed into bed with him later, so she'd be plenty ready for Brett the next time he wanted her.
He'd never had a broad while her husband was around. God, he thought, it would really be a kick to have her monebedroom while Don was in the other, but even the way it was set up now was enough to double his enjoyment.
Living right in the house with the guy whose wife he was laying-what better proof was there of his belief that a woman would go to any lengths to have a good tumble?
Brett wondered how Don could be so blind. He must have known how hot Marion was, and yet he could leave her alone with another man without even checking on her now and then.
It just went to prove how much control a woman could have over a man. Marion had Don believing she was true to him. The poor bastard should have known better than to get married; he was a born sucker. He didn't have a chance against a woman. Brett thanked his lucky stars that he'd found out about women before he'd made the same mistake.
It didn't bother him that he was helping Don's wife cheat. He knew broads, and if Marion hadn't had him to turn to for her illicit sex, she would soon have found someone else. It didn't matter to her, as long as she got her kicks.
Brett yawned and stretched his body along the smooth sheets. His penis was flaccid, a sign that Marion was really good for him. He couldn't remember when he'd had such a great arrangement. All he had to do was reach out and grab it. Poor old Don. But what the hell, it was the stupid bastard's own fault.
It was twelve-thirty by the time he'd showered and eaten.
He put the convertible's top down for the trip to the Simpson's house. It was a hot, sunny day, and the wind was the only thing that kept him from roasting.
There were no cars in the long driveway as he pulled in. He parked directly in front of the big steps and climbed out.
After he pushed the bell the second time, he heard a voice beside him, and turned to see a small speaker mounted in the paneled wall.
"Is that you, Brett?"
"Yes, it's me, Andrea."
"I'm around back at the pool. Just go along the front of the house to your right, and you'll find a gate. It's open. Walk in and follow the path to the right.
The pool and the bath houses are just past the trees on the hill."
"Okay, I'll be there in a sec."
Brett followed the front wall of the house and soon found the gate. He wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been looking for it. It was the same as the rest of the fence, except that it was hinged.
There were three paths on the other side, leading in different directions. He took the one to the right, and noticed a small, tree-covered hill ahead of him.
The grounds were beautiful-grass closely trimmed and hedges immaculately clipped. Flowers covered most of the yard to the right of the path, and the grounds were so well surrounded by trees that you couldn't see any sign of other houses. Brett felt like he was alone in a forest, a hundred miles from nowhere.
Man, this is privacy, he thought, as he followed the path. What a great place to have a week-long orgy! No one would bother us.
The path ended at two bath house. Brett entered the one with Gentlemen written over the door, and found himself in pure luxury. The floors were carpeted, and stuffed leather chairs surrounded the walls.
Once again he head her voice, this time from above him, where another speaker was recessed in the ceiling.
"Brett?"
"Yes?"
"Slip into a bathing suit. It's too hot to talk in all those clothes. You'll find one to fit you in the cupboard by the window."
"Okay, I'll only take a minute."
"What would you like to drink?"
"Scotch, if you've got it."
"I've got everything. Hurry up, the water's great."
Brett crossed to the cupboard and opened it. There were several suits, all new and wrapped in plastic bags. The sizes were marked on the pegs where each one hung.
He chose a white boxer-type made out of stretch fabric from the peg marked 32, and stripped off his clothes. There were hangers supplied, and he hung up his clothes before he slipped into the trunks.
They fit him snugly, and he turned to survey him-self in the full-length mirror on one wall. The suit was a good fit. There was little left to the imagination, and a lot obvious at a quick glance.
He smiled and walked out the door opposite to the one he'd entered, then stopped and stared.
The pool was much larger than he'd expected-at least forty by eighty feet. Around it was a marble-tiled walkway about six feet wide, which tapered out to about twenty feet where Brett was standing.
To his right, there was a well stocked bar and a barbecue pit large enough to roast an elephant. Beyond the bar and barbecue pit was a tiled area covered with lounge chairs.
The whole thing was enclosed by a solid twenty-foot fence with large trees planted inside at ten-foot intervals. It was completely closed off from the outside world, and the only way in was through the bath houses. All Brett could see over the top of the fence was sky.
In the center of the pool there was a fountain which sprayed water fifteen feet in the air, and beside the fountain was a large, air-filled float. The whole thing was fantastic-straight out of ancient Rome.
"I'm over here, Brett."
Andrea was sitting on one of the lounges beyond the bar. Brett didn't know how he'd missed seeing her. The scenery was fantastic, but this red-haired doll was out of this world. She was wearing a one-piece suit that matched her hair perfectly, and fit her like a second skin. As Brett walked toward her, he could see the outline of her nipples plainly. There was nothing covering Andrea but one thin, tight layer of cloth.
"Your drink is on the bar," she said, smiling up at him.
He picked it up as he passed the bar. When he was only a few feet from her he stopped, mesmerized. She was perfect-every curve in the right place, her body a dream too good to be true.
The full, resilient breasts jutted out boldly from her chest, firm and conical, with nipples that turned upward slightly. She had a small waist and smoothly rounded belly. Her flaring hips gave way to the solid, slightly muscular columns of her thighs. Her long legs were stretched out in front of her, their shape perfectly complementing the rest of her body.
This woman was built for one thing only-loving. Even Brett's sense of smell was awakened by the musky, feminine odor which she seemed to exude from every pore in her skin. All he could think of was possessing her tantilizing body, holding the firm flesh of her beautifully molded buttocks in his hands and driving his cock between the junction of those silky thighs.
She looked self-consciously at herself. "Is there something wrong with me?"
"Wrong? I should say not!
Andrea, you're the perfect example of what a woman should look like. You figure is everything that all the poets and artists have been trying to capture for centuries."
"Well, thank you!"
"Besides all that, you mix the best Scotch I've had in a long time. Nothing mixes with Scotch like Scotch."
"Thank you again. Sit down and relax." She indicated the lounge across from her.
He set his drink on the table between them and sank into the padded luxury.
"Do you like the pool?"
"It's great. Looks like it belong in the temple of a Roman god."
"It's my own design. I have so much time on my hands, with Bill involved in the stores, that I need this hideaway. It's my refuge from the reality of a boring life. I try to spend at least four hours a day here."
"It's really fantastic, Andrea. You've done a marvelous job."
"I'm glad you like it. I see you found a suit to fit you. Would you like to take a swim before we talk?"
"I'd love to, if you're sure I won't get lost in that ocean of yours."
Andrea laughed and raced for the pool. Brett chased her, and they hit the water together. She beat him across to the middle of the pool and climbed onto the float. It partially caved in under her weight as she rolled onto her softly rounded belly, and she disappeared from his view. The last thing he saw were the lush globes of her buttocks bouncing over the edge.
He swam to the float and drew himself up on his elbows. She had turned over and was stretched out on her back in the gully created by her weight. The spray from the fountain was raining down on her, and she had her eyes closed.
The suit seemed to cling to her body even more tightly when it was wet. He could see the outline of every hill and valley so clearly that she might just as well have been nude.
As he pulled himself up onto the float, his weight caused her side to rise, and she opened her eyes. She smiled and turned her head toward him.
"Climb aboard, friend."
He rolled toward the center and his bulk pushed the float down," making her slide toward him. When she stopped sliding, they were locked together, their faces just inches apart. Brett turned slightly and kissed her. He knew why she'd invited him here, and he wasn't going to disappoint her.
She returned his kiss passionately and clutched his shoulders, pulling him to her. Brett lifted his hands to her breasts, caressing the already taut nipples. She moaned and kissed him harder, grinding her teeth against his. Her hands went to the front of his suit and began stroking lightly. He was already aroused, and the suit was so tight that she had no trouble finding his bulging tool.
Andrea began frantically rubbing her lower body against his, clawing at his back, urging him on impatiently. Brett knew there was no sense in prolonging the preliminaries. Andrea had been ready for him when he arrived. She didn't need to be worked up.
Brett reached under her and found the zipper of the suit. She lifted her hips and butt to aUow him to strip it off. He tried to stand to take off his trunks, but the float was too unsteady.
"I'll do it," she offered, "lie down."
Brett obeyed, and Andrea swiftly stripped off the tight trunks. She pulled him over on top of her, causing the float to sink further under their combined weight. Water swished over them as he raised himself slightly, and she guided him to the target. Brett made a few short movements, then drove home. Andrea winced slightly, but soon her reaction changed to a low, animal moan of desire. Brett didn't have to move much because the float bounced beneath them in the water, aiding his slight movements. This was great-he just moved a couple of inches, and she sank and bounced right back up to him.
Brett drove slowly but steadily at her eager form. He wasn't harsh, but she knew he was master and willingly followed his lead. Soon he grunted aloud, shuddered, and shot his passion juices into her. She threw herself up against him, shrieking with ecstasy. They collapsed together and let the fountain water rain down on their faces as they panted and gasped for breath.
After a while, she turned to him and smiled. "You're quite a man, Brett Hansen."
"And you, Andrea Simpson, are the most seductive woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. You just took me back to my first time; it was completely animal. I can't remember another time since then that it's been so good." This wasn't exactly true, but Brett knew it was the right thing to say.
She kissed him, then plunged into the water. He turned to find his suit, but then thought, what the hell, he couldn't have had more privacy in a bedroom. He dived in after her.
When he surfaced, she was standing on the edge of the pool, her hips thrust forward and her shoulders back. He rested on the edge of the pool by his elbows and let his eyes travel up her legs. All he could see past the junction of her thighs and belly were two hard-peaked mountains of golden flesh.
When he climbed up to her she didn't move, and he stood close, barely touching her body with his. Their faces were separated by five inches, but he could feel her proud breasts grazing his chest, and his pulsing cock prodding her abdomen.
"Perfect three-point landing, wouldn't you say, honey?"
She kissed him, then walked toward the lounges, laughing happily.
He was hypnotized by the movement of her butt as she walked. The two creases beneath the cheeks moved up and down seductively.
Pointing to his rod, Brett called to her.
"Hey, look at my condition. You can't walk away and leave me like this-especially when you're built the way you are, and when you walk like that."
She fell back on a lounge, facing him and dropping a leg over each side. He was standing directly in line with her crotch, and the sight was too much for him. He ran toward her.
Andrea had her eyes closed, and as he flung himself onto and into her in one swift move, she smiled happily.
"Um, you are a big strong boy, aren't you?"
"You better believe it, honey."
He lunged at her until she was writhing ecstatically. His hands clutched her buttocks, pulling her to him as he drove her back into the soft lounge. His fingers stroked the valley of her buttocks, dartingback and forth, sending thrills through her body like electric jolts. She cried out, clutching his shoulders, thrusting her hips up to him.
"Now, Brett!"
He let himself go, filling her with his passion as she, too, shuddered in climax.
Afterward, he knelt between her legs, resting for a minute, then backed up and crossed to the lounge in front of his drink. When she had caught her breath she sat up and picked up her glass. He put his to his lips and drained it.
"Would you like another one?"
"What did you have in mind?" His eyes traveled down the length of her, coming to rest on the silky triangle, which was wide open for his inspection.
She smiled and stood up, reaching for his glass. He stretched back, letting his body mold to the soft lounge.
What a way to live, he thought, Christ, I'll have to hang onto this for a while. He watched her full, firm body moving about while she mixed another drink for him. He was fascinated by her animal lust. Even now he could smell the musky, sensual odor that clung to her body.
The sun shining on her red hair made it look as though she were on fire, and as his gaze lowered he couldn't help but smile. Yes, she was definitely on fire down there; the brightly shining redness was still damp from their last tumble.
He leaned forward and kissed her navel as he took the drink she offered him. The smell of her was stronger now, and he could taste the saltiness of her flesh as his lips left her body. He'd never met a broad like her before. She radiated desire-and all of his senses were constantly being reminded that she was all woman and ready to grant him woman's most wonderful offering whenever he wanted it.
Andrea returned to her lounge, and once again she let a leg fall on each side, giving him that unobstructed view of her most tender part. She looked across at him and began to move her hips in a way that made her pussy expand and contract. He watched, fascinated by the control over her body that she was demonstrating to him.
"Like that?" she asked.
"You really know all the little tricks, don't you?"
"I've actually made a study of lovemaking. I've read so many books on the subject that my husband thinks there's something wrong with me. He'll never understand that there is no other thing in the world that can give a human more enjoyment than a perfect sexual union.
"But you can understand that, can't you, Brett? You're a strong, virile, male animal, and you really only have one thought on your mind when you look at a woman. You wonder what her buttocks would feel like in your hands, how her nipples will grow as you caress them, how her hips will move after you've joined her, how well she'll perform under your nude form. Isn't that right, Brett?"
Andrea had been caressing herself steadily as she talked to him. Her hand was between her legs now, moving, darting. Brett watched her working at herself, and suddenly one of his own hands slid around his tingling, hardening penis. He couldn't pull his eyes from her pistoning hand. They sat there, five feet apart, watching each other as they stroked themselves. Finally Brett stood up and crossed to her, his rod bouncing enticingly as he moved.
"Let's not waste our strength, baby. The day's young, and we might regret this later." He reached down and lifted the relaxed hand from her cunt.
"Yes, I guess you're right."
"It's such a beautiful day. We should just relax and enjoy it."
"I think I'll have another dip and cool myself off."
He watched her swim the length of the pool. She used strong, graceful movements, and he was treated to some wildly stimulating views of her body as she employed varied strokes. From now on, he decided, the butterfly would always be his favorite.
She got out, glanced down at him as she walked by, and whistled.
"Boy, you don't tire out easily, do you?"
"With you-walking around like that, I could stay hard like this all day."
"I'll bet you could."
"Try me."
"No thanks, I'll take your word for it."
Brett laughed and finished his drink.
"Let's go out on the float and soak up some of this sun."
"Okay. Sounds great to me."
They swam leisurely out to the float and climbed on. Brett kissed her firm rump as he stretched out face-down beside her. His tool had shrunk during the swim, but the closeness of her rounded form started his blood boiling again. He felt his rod pushing at the float beneath him, and flipped over on his back, exposing his readiness to Andrea.
"You sure come up in a hurry, don't you?"
"Any guy who finds himself lying nude beside a broad with a build like yours, and doesn't react fast, would have to be made out of stone."
He rolled on his side, took her in his arms, and kissed her passionately. His hand ran up and down the curve of her back and lower, to the firm flesh of her ass. She sighed contentedly and stretched her marvelous body like a happy kitten.
He lifted his torso, resting on one elbow as his other hand slid between her legs to caress the soft, silky skin of her inner thighs. Andrea parted her legs slightly, giving him more room. His hand moved swiftly to satisfy her obvious wish, and she began to rotate her clit against it.
Her eyes were closed, and she moaned with appreciation as he deftly stroked the hard little nub. His lips went to the back of her neck, then left a trail of moist kisses down her lovely back and over the mounds of her buttocks.
She rolled over, and his lips moved downward to replace the hand that had been caressing her swollen clit.
"Mmmm. I think ... you're going to make a very good escort ... for Sharon. But mind you, I'll have to see you ... regularly ... just to be sure." Her voice was hoarse and rasping now.
"I'm inclined to be a bit forward now and then. I think maybe you'd better have one of these investigative sessions with me every day."
His mouth returned to her, and she closed her thighs on him, holding him tight.
"Ohhh, my God, yes. At least ... once a day."
Brett returned to the task with renewed strength. It was important that he keep Andrea happy, because it was through her that he would finally get Sharon. He moved his body between her legs, his lips never relinquishing their position. His hands slid beneath her buttocks, palling the squirming hips higher off the float. Andrea arched her back, giving him better access to her quivering cunt.
"Ohhh! Ohhh!" she moaned.
Brett kissed his way up her body, over the rounded tummy and hard-tipped breasts to her waiting mouth. Her hands guided him as he thrust his hips forward, completing their union in one smashing stroke. Her eyes shot open as he entered her, and the twin mounds of her buttocks surged up to make the penetration even deeper.
She shouted unintelligibly as her body thrashed beneath his, climbing toward the pinacle of release. Brett rocked from side to side, hitting parts of her interior that had never been touched. His hands reached for her eraser-hard nipples and squeezed viciously as her body strained against him in the final throes of release. He emptied his lust in one last mighty movement of his strong hips, and collapsed on his bent elbows.
They moaned and gasped, still locked together.
"Oh, my God ... that was wonderful ... ohhh! Brett, you're so good."
"Lots more where that came from, baby, and there's nowhere I'd rather leave it than with you."
They sunbathed and dozed for the next hour. Brett knew she would want more; he'd done a good job of cooling down this rich bitch with the hot pants, but her contentment wouldn't last forever. She'd come to him again for sure the next time she wanted stud service.
She was good, too. Man, could she move those hips! Just like the belly dancer he'd met in Germany. He reached down and caressed his tool lovingly.
Andrea looked down at him and smiled.
"Pretty proud of yourself, aren't you?"
"You won't find a better roll in the hay anywhere, baby, and you know it."
"You're good, all right-but they say there's always somebody better."
"Don't you believe it, baby. Once a broad hits the sack with me, she knows she's had the best."
She glanced up at the clock recessed in the paneling on the bar.
"You'd better leave now. Bill will be home soon. When can you come over again?"
"I'm off for the next four days, so I'll be over whenever I can. Don't worry. I'll be around."
Damned right he'd be around, Brett thought. Andrea had been even better than he'd anticipated. When a broad had as much time as Andrea did to sit around and think about a guy, she always made a good accounting of herself when she finally got him up next to her naked form. And Andrea had probably been thinking about him ever since she'd phoned him.
Her sex urges were strong, and it wouldn't take her long to work herself up for another tumble. Brett was going to make sure he was around when that time came. He'd hate to lose out on a good deal like this-especially when Sharon was part of the bargain.
He was sure that he could get to the younger girl through Andrea. The only trouble was that Andrea might be too possessive with him, now that she'd seen how good he was. He decided not to discuss Sharon very much for a while. After all, he could lose them both if he wasn't careful.
He raised himself and rested on his knees, letting his eyes roam leisurely over the beautiful nude form below him. There was something about a rich woman's body that made her outstanding, he thought. Wealthy broads could afford to look after themselves, and because of that their bodies had a smooth, pampered look.
He ran his hand over a silky thigh and regretted that he had to leave. He would have liked to spend the rest of the day between those velvety, well-cared-for columns. On the other hand, he didn't especially want to meet Bill Simpson under these circumstances.
He kissed her, then slipped over the side of the float into the water.
"Better take this with you," Andrea cautioned, "I don't want it lying around here when Sharon takes her regular morning swim tomorrow. She might get the wrong idea about her dear old auntie-or, I should say, the right idea!"
He laughed and picked up the trunks she was holding out to him.
"I'll put them in the bath house sol can wear them the next time. They're barely broken in."
Brett drove home slowly, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. He had the world in the palm of his hands now. Things couldn't have been better. Everything was working out just as he'd planned it.
He knew how to handle broads. He'd learned his lesson long ago-take them for everything you can get, and when they start getting serious, spit in their faces.
Brett Hansen was happy, happier than he'd been in years.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Monday morning Brett climbed out of bed at 8:30. He wished Marion was there, but knew she had gone with Don because she had to be downtown for a hairdresser's appointment at 8:30. He let his mind wander back over the dream he'd just had.
He'd found himself locked in the embrace of a beautiful blonde, her voluptuous body twined around his thrusting form. She was whinnying like a mare who'd found a hot stallion. He could almost feel the soreness in his lower back where her heels had dug passionately into his straining body. The blonde was Sharon, and he'd claimed her sensual body again and again as they rocked on the bed.
He stretched and yawned happily, thinking, God, it seemed so reall He knew she would be good in bed, and his mind again worked at a plan for turning the dream into reality.
Sharon was one broad, he was really going to enjoy. He'd soon be lost in that beautiful body, and he'd re-enact the dream, but when it finally happened, he'd make her pay for holding him off so long.
He had a long shower, then ate a big plateful of bacon and eggs. When he was through, he picked up the phone and dialed Sharon's number. It was early yet, and he knew she'd be out at the pool for her morning swim.
"Hello?"
"Sharon, this is Brett. You going to be busy this afternoon?"
"Gee, I'm sorry, Brett. I've got an appointment to get my hair done at one."
"How about tomorrow? I'd like to take you up to the cabin for that picnic I promised you."
"That would be great, Brett. What time do you want to pick me up?"
"Let's say eleven o'clock, okay?"
"Yes, that's fine. It'll give me time to pack us a lunch."
"Okay, beautiful. I'll see you then."
Brett spent the rest of the morning washing his car. After he'd finished lunch he picked up a beer and went out to the sundeck. He looked out across the lane and smiled.
Karen McDonald was sunbathing on a lounge beside the pool. She was stark naked. Brett took in her lovely body with his eyes, and felt the heat flowing into his loins.
She was real nice stuff, lying there face-down with her firm, round behind jutting up toward him.
"C'mon, honey, turn over-do the other side," he mumbled. He was tempted to shout it at her, but thought better of it.
Now would be a good time to call on her, he decided. He couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. He was about to start down the stairs when Karen turned over and sat up. Her breasts bounced saucily as she moved, holding his attention.
She was talking to somebody who was behind the fence, out of his field of vision.
Damn it! Some other guy must be keeping her happy, he thought.
Then he saw who it was-Betty Johnston. She was dressed in short shorts and a halter.
God, she's got big boobs, he thought. They're half out of the halter.
Betty walked over and sat down beside Karen. Obviously, Karen had been expecting her, because she made no move to hide her nakedness. Then Brett found out why.
Betty put her arms around Karen and they sank back on the lounge in a deep kiss. Her hand slipped between Karen's legs and began to move.
In a few minutes Betty stood up and peeled the halter off her mammouth breasts. They bounced straight forward as they were released. They were almost unbelieveably huge-fantastic, really.
Brett felt his clothing tighten around his loins as Betty's hands went to her shorts. She slipped them off and climbed back on top of Karen. Now Brett knew what they did for excitement when their husbands were away!
Brett had read a lot about Lesbians, and once when he was in London he'd gone to a Lesbian show in Soho. At first, the sight of the women making love to each other had sickened him, but then the action of the two bodies began to excite him.
He had little use for women anyway, except for the pleasure their bodies could bring him. It suited the pigs, he'd thought as he watched them. Nothing was more important to them than getting sexual thrills. Women would give up everything just to get their kicks from some tumble. Yes, they belonged there, wrapped in each other's arms.
The two women across the lane had husbands that provided for them, but the minute the men's backs were turned, the broads started playing their Lesbian games. Those poor bastards weren't even safe if there were no other men within reach of their wives! It all boiled down to the fact that if a woman couldn't find a man to cheat with, she'd settle for another member of her own sex.
Karen and Betty probably dreaded the time when their husbands would return. Judging from the way they were going at each other now, they'd no doubt been waiting impatiently for their husbands to pack up and leave town. They'd probably been doing this for years, while Phil and Jack were away earning the money that kept them living well.
Any man who got married had to be out of his mind, Brett concluded. All a guy accomplished by marrying a woman was to set her up so she didn't have to worry about earning a living, and this gave her the time she needed to search out more exciting sex partners.
Brett felt sorry for Jack and Phil as he watched their wives work at each other. The poor bastards were really being taken for a ride.
Well, the setup was perfect for Brett Hansen. He had these broads just where he wanted them. If they wanted to play together, they'd have to let him join in. What they both needed was a real man, anyway, he figured.
He walked into the kitchen, picked up the phone, carried it out to the sundeck and put it on the railing. He dialed, then watched the reaction in the yard across the lane. The phone beside the two women rang at a bad time.
At first they ignored it, but Karen finally picked it up. Her voice was husky, and she was breathing hard as she answered.
"Let me speak to Betty, please, Karen," he said.
Karen handed the phone to Betty, who rasped, "H'lo?"
"Betty, this is Brett."
"Oh, hi, Brett. How did you know I was over here?"
"I've been watching you two, and it looks like you're having plenty of fun. Would you mind if I came over and joined you?"
Betty looked up at him, open-mouthed, and he waved to her.
"Oh, you dirty bastard! I didn't think anyone could see us in here!"
"It was accidental at first, but then I got too fascinated to stop watching. Well, how about it?"
"Just a sec. I'll ask Karen if it's okay with her."
They talked for a minute, and Karen looked up at him. She didn't appear to be too happy about the idea, but Brett knew she had little choice.
"Okay, Brett," Betty said at last. "C'mon over. You might as well, now. Besides, it might prove interesting."
Brett dropped the receiver into its cradle and returned it to the kitchen. It had been obvious that Karen wanted Betty all to herself, but that was too damned bad. She'd damn well have to come across for him, too, if she wanted Betty any more today. He'd see to that.
He was almost running by the time he got across the lane to the gate. Karen let him in and carefully closed the gate behind him.
Betty smiled and threw her shoulders back. The mountainous tits shot forward toward him, and his hand went to his belt.
"Let's stay on this side of the yard," he suggested. "It's out of view of the sundeck."
"Good idea," Betty agreed. "We don't want to take any more chances."
Brett stripped off his clothes and helped the girls move the lounge chairs into the secluded section of the yard. Then he turned his gaze on Betty and smiled.
"I knew they were big, but I didn't think they were that huge! God, you're built."
She smiled and caressed her breasts, lifting them and holding them out to him.
Brett shook his head and said, "No, you two go ahead. I'll watch for a while."
"Okay. C'mon Karen, let's pick up where we left off."
They returned to the lounge and began stroking each other. Betty was on top of Karen, in the familiar 69 position. Their moaning was punctuated with sucking, slurping sounds that Brett found disgusting, yet he couldn't keep himself from becoming aroused.
With one hand, Karen was stroking Betty's buttocks lovingly, holding the other woman's loins close to her eager mouth. Her other hand was clutching one of Betty's big tits, which bounced back and forth across Karen's belly as Betty moved her head up and down.
The huge, dangling cones reminded Brett of a Holstein walking toward the barn to be milked. He'd never wanted to milk a cow, but as he watched the giant globes, the urge began to grow. He wanted to insert his rod between those fleshy boobs and rub them back and forth on it. He could almost feel the sensation they would give him, just by watching them bounce.
Both women were panting and clutching frantically at their partners' buttocks now. Brett slouched down in the lounge opposite them and began slowly stroking his bare, hard cock as he looked on.
Betty's ass was poised in the air just in front of him, and it twisted and bounced as Karen kissed Betty from below. The position was perfect, and' suddenly Brett couldn't resist any longer. He hiked himself off the chair and hurried over to them.
He lifted Betty's rump slightly, separating Karen from her target. Then he thrust himself forward and took over possession of Betty's cunt.
He felt Karen's hands slide up his thighs, and then her mouth began a suctioning action on the spheres that dangled above her face. Betty was still servicing Karen, and in order to keep the human chain together Brett could only take short strokes; but the combined effects of what the two broads were doing for him was enough to make up for the lack of frenzied motion.
He reached under Betty's body and cupped the amazingly fuU tits. With one in each hand, he rode his mare to victory, his body convulsing in the throes of release.
When he'd finished, he backed away from Betty's still-moving buttocks. Karen's lips quickly resumed the position they'd lost when he started. The two women twisted and moaned together, their bodies molded into a single form.
Brett walked around to the other end of the lounge, lifted Betty's head and knelt between Karen's yawning legs. Betty kissed him passionately, then let her tongue run in little moist circles on his chest and belly as he drove at Karen. The pace was frantic, and Brett watched the beads of perspiration form on Betty's passion-twisted face.
Then her mouth fell open and she moaned deeply, her body tightening like a bow string. Karen threw her hips up to him, and they all finished together. It was fantastic-orgasms in triplicate! They collapsed and fought for breath, a mass of sweating torsos, arms and legs.
Finally Betty stood up, her big knockers still heaving.
"Let's go into the house for the next round. I'd feel less inhibited in there."
Brett stood beside her, his eyes glued to the huge, bouncing cones.
"You figure we can improve on what we just did?"
"Try me."
Brett turned to Karen, his lips forming a lewd grin. "C'mon Karen, let's go inside before she cools off."
Brett took each of them by the arm and led them into the house. Karen busily closed the blinds and locked the doors while Brett amused himself with Betty's still-throbbing boobs. When Karen returned, Betty lifted his hungry mouth from her massive bosom and moved toward the bathroom.
"Karen and I love to shower together, Brett. Would you like to join us?"
"Silly question, baby. Lead the way."
The shower poured down on the three bodies, and Brett relaxed as he enjoyed the warm water. Betty picked up the soap and began washing his chest. Karen reached over to the sink, picked up another bar of soap, and started on his back.
They both began at the top and worked down. By the time they reached his waist, Brett was aroused again, and Betty took plenty of time lathering up his cock. She circled it with both hands, and began moving them back and forth.
Now he could feel Karen's hands reaching between his legs and soaping the storehouse of his passion. Finally they turned the spray of the shower on him and spun him around slowly, washing the suds from his body. When they were through, they bent and kissed the droplets of water from his throbbing genitals.
Brett lifted Betty from her kneeling position and pulled Karen around so that she was kneeling between them. While she kissed and stroked his rod with her lips and tongue, he lathered the mammoth breasts of the other woman.
He'd heard it said that more than a mouthful is wasteful, and if that was true, he was sure as hell in a big wasteland now. The huge nipples hardened as he soaped and rolled them between his fingers.
He let the water rinse them off, then leaned forward to take a pulsing nipple into his mouth.
They stayed like that, all three of them enjoying the sensual sensations, until the water in the shower started to turn cold. Then Betty turned and shut it off. They got out and dried each other, then Brett followed the two sets of bouncing buttocks down the hall and into the master bedroom.
Brett flopped onto the bed on his back, grinning. He'd always wanted to try to satisfy two broads at once.
"C'mon, I'll take you both on together."
"You take the top, Karen. You like that route better anyway. I'll handle his pride and joy."
Karen crawled up over his body, and his lips opened slightly as her body lowered into position. He couldn't see Betty now, but he felt her guiding his rod as she, too, settled down onto him. The bed complained and creaked as the three bodies began to buck and lurch.
Brett's hand went up to the swinging knobs above his head. They found Karen's pulsating nipples and worked them against each other. Betty was rotating around on him now, her hips twisting from side to side.
Betty's hands replaced his on Karen's breasts, and Brett slipped his hands around Karen's back until he could feel the mass of Betty's taut cones. He took huge handfuls, kneading the flesh and flipping the swollen nipples back and forth with his thumbs.
Moaning and labored breathing filled the room as Brett licked and thrust, lifting the two female bodies past the point of no return. A shrill cry broke from Karen's lips as her thighs trembled and she pulled his head even tighter against her satiny slit. Brett's hips vaulted off the bed, ramming his discharge into Betty's already wildly convulsing form.
They untangled their bodies and stretched out side by side on the bed. Betty reached over and petted Brett's lax tool.
"You're not through, are you, Brett? The day's still young yet."
"Maybe you could coax me into action, baby. Why don't you give it a try?"
"C'mon into the living room. There's more room to stretch out on the rug."
Karen was obviously not as enthusiastic as Betty. She hadn't wanted to share the other woman with Brett in the first place, and Betty's happiness with Brett's capabilities was adding more fuel to the fire of resentment that was building up inside Karen's mind.
To hell with you, you Lezzie bitch, Brett thought happily. If you want to enjoy Betty, you'll have to do your bit for me too.
Betty didn't seem to notice Karen's frown as she herded her two naked playmates into the living room-or else she just didn't give a damn, Brett surmised. Her eyes were glassy, and her big tits heaved with the anticipation of renewed pleasure.
Brett couldn't resist the opportunity to give Karen a rough time. He crossed over to her and waved his rod in front of the small-breasted woman. "Don't like this as well as what Betty has to offer, do you Karen? Well, maybe that's just because you haven't had it enough. But we'll fix that up before we're through, baby."
Betty turned and came to Karen's defense, saying, "Jack and Karen don't do it the regular way. You know how Karen likes it, and Jack feels the same way. Just give her time to get used to you, and she'll go for it as much as I do."
"Okay, Betty," Brett replied. "We've got plenty of time. I'm in no hurry. Besides, I wouldn't want to rush the poor girl. I'm sure you can give me plenty of what I want, anyway."
We'll give Karen a chance to show you what she does for Jack. You won't mind if I join in and help her, will you?"
"Hell, no. The more, the merrier."
Betty laughed, and her big boobs rolled back and forth.
Karen's face lit up slightly. She was obviously happy to have Betty worry about her and take up for her.
"C'mon, Karen," Betty urged. "Help me work him up. It shouldn't take long if we put everything we've got into it.
While Brett stood, Betty knelt in front of him and leaned forward to kiss the wilted flower of his manhood, and Karen busied herself with stroking the tender leaves below. Brett was ready for a rematch in record time. Betty stopped the see-saw motion of her head and moved to one side of him.
"You get on the other side and we'll kiss him together," she told Karen. "That way, we should be able to kiss each other at the same time."
Lips and teeth closed on Brett from each side as he supported himself with his hands on the shoulders of the two women. One of Betty's hands slipped out and nestled between Karen's legs to caress the soft, moist, fur-covered crevice at their junction. Her fingers began to move, and soon she felt one of Karen's hands slip over to return the favor. Their other hands rose up between Brett's legs to stroke and tickle his balls.
Brett pumped his hips back and forth, letting their lips pass up and down the full length of his joy-stick. It took quite a while for him to reach the peak this time; and when he finally felt he was about to come, with the pleasure sensations tearing at his body, he began pistoning his hips back and forth viciously.
Betty could feel his climax coming on and her lips slid down the shaft and closed over the head. She sucked like a newborn babe as he convulsed, and followed him down as his body slumped to the floor.
Brett fell into a chair, utterly exhausted, and watched the two broads scramble around on the floor, rushing to kiss each other intimately. He enjoyed the exhibition of thrashing womanhood, but there was no reaction in his loins for awhile. The two women grunted and moaned, their tongues flashing, oblivious to the eyes of the man beside them.
Karen's hand went to the crease between Betty's buttocks and caressed. Two of her fingers moved in deeper, and the other woman uttered a throaty moan. Betty rolled on top, her ass facing Brett for the second time that day. His reaction was the same-his strength and vigor returned, and he moved over to replace Karen's probing hand.
He pushed himself forward, but entry this way was more difficult, and Betty winced in pain. Brett held her firmly and thrust again. It was a tight fit, but after two more strokes he drove it home. He moved slowly, enjoying the unusual friction, his hard-muscled belly rebounding off the resilient cheeks of Betty's butt. The sensation of those corrugated inner walls was fabulous for Brett, and Betty wasn't complaining any more, either. The dual pleasure she was receiving from her lovers was driving her wild.
Brett worked between Betty's buttocks slowly, almost hypnotized by the fantastic friction. The sensation in his cock caused by his slow, deliberate strokes within that crinkly channel sent the blood pounding through his veins and arteries. His ears picked up the sounds of the damply muffled moans of the two women below him, taut their obvious pleasure wasn't important to' him-the husky groans his own mouth was emitting soon drowned out all other sounds in the room.
He curved one hand around to the front of Betty's thighs and forced it between Karen's bobbing head and one of Betty's legs until he felt the soft moistness of Betty's honey pot. His fingers moved and probed until they found her glory hole, then he slipped one inside. Now he could stroke his rod through the thin cellular divider that separated the two internal channels.
The action immediately drove him wild with enjoyment, and by the convulsing reaction he got from Betty's body, he could tell that she was more than pleased with his two-pronged attack.
He felt the bodies below shudder and twist in three heaving spasms. Karen and Betty had finished together, but Brett kept up his slow, steady motion. Karen slipped out from beneath them and pushed a footstool over for Betty to rest the weight of her upper body on. Then Brett felt her begin to move again as he worked at her.
He felt himself approaching the climax; then his mind went blank as he was engulfed by the most forceful tidal wave of ecstasy he'd ever experienced. His body lurched again and again, for God only knew how long. He just kept going, going, going-lost to the rest of reality.
Much later, he pulled out and dropped to the floor, his strength finally completely drained. His whole body was shaking from the exertion he'd just put forth.
"Karen, come and finish me, honey," Betty called. Karen ran over and was soon complying with Betty's wish.
Brett watched them while his body fought the weakness he felt. He wanted more, and although his body craved rest, he refused to give up.
He was aching all over when he crossed the lane and climbed the steps to Don's house. The girls had given up before he had, though, he thought smugly. He'd made both of them beg him to stop.
God, what a day! He'd never forget it, that was for sure. Karen had been jealous of Betty's attentiveness toward Brett, and he'd known it. She probably hated his guts, but she'd just finished giving him one helluva heap of pleasure. She hadn't had any choice; she liked her little Lezzie games too much to risk getting Betty pissed off at her.
The phone was ringing when Brett opened the door. He hurred across and picked it up.
"Where the hell have you been? I've been calling all afternoon!" Marion raged.
She was jealous, he thought, as he replied, "Not that it's any of your business, but I've been out cheering up some lonely neighbors."
"Well, you'll have to fix yourself something to eat. Don and I are going out for supper. We'll be back about nine."
"I'm bushed. I think I'll turn in early, so I won't see you tonight. C'mon over to my room after Don leaves in the morning. I'll be waiting."
"I don't know if I can wait that long. Just hearing your voice makes me hot."
"Don't worry, I'll fix you up good in the morning."
"Okay, Brett. I'll see you then."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sharon was standing on the wide front steps, holding a picnic basket, when he drove up to the house the next afternoon. She looked radiant, standing with her legs slightly spread and shoulders thrown back. Her full breasts were only partially covered by the low-cut blouse she wore, and her hip-hugger slacks were stretched almost as tight as a second skin, giving him a good view of her other attributes.
Brett reached over and opened the door as she ran toward him, her long blonde tresses flowing behind her. He couldn't take his eyes off her perfectly proportioned body. She had to be the most beautiful girl he'd ever met, he decided. She set the basket on the back seat and slipped in beside him.
"Hi, stranger!" he greeted her. "Long time no see. Am I late?'
"No, you're five minutes early. I was so anxious to go that I've been standing out here for twenty minutes. How did your training session go?"
"Well, that's all past history now, anyway. Today we're simply going to enjoy the beauty of nature, okay?"
"Okay. And from where I sit, the most beautiful job old Mother Nature ever produced is sitting right beside me."
"Hmmm, sounds to me like you're trying to use some of your fancy-panty-remover on me, Brett. Save your words. They won't get you anywhere."
"No, I really mean it. You are a fantastic-looking woman."
"Okay, I believe you. I've just misjudged you, huh?'
"That's right, baby. You know I wouldn't try to put the make on you."
They both laughed at that one. It was a nice feeling; they understood each other. Sharon knew damn well he wanted to get into her pants, and he knew it wouldn't be an easy job. He'd had tough ones before though, and he'd managed to come out on top. On top, all right, in more ways than one.
There was something familiar about this girl that he couldn't put his finger on. It bothered him that he couldn't remember who it was that Sharon reminded him of. It wasn't just her build; he'd known other girls with figures as good as hers. But it was something about her overaU appearance. Maybe it was the way she talked, or the way she walked. Whatever it was, he couldn't place it, and it bugged him.
He always felt different with her-somehow at ease, relaxed. He didn't have to think about each word carefully before he spoke to her.
"What is this spell you have me under, baby?" he asked, making his voice deceptively light-hearted.
"Spell?"
"Yeah. There's something about you that makes me want to spend as much time as possible with you."
"That's no spell, Brett. We both know why you spend time with me. You have only one thought in that one-track mind of yours."
"No, it's not that. There's something else about you that keeps bringing me back."
"Oh, sure. You don't want to sleep with me at all."
"Don't be silly. Of course I do, but there's still something else. You remind me of somebody I used to know. Be damned if I can remember who, though."
"Must be pretty hard, with all the women you've known."
"Don't let's be nasty now."
He turned and smiled at her. She was smiling too, and he could tell she was enjoying herself.
"I really mean it. You do remind me of someone I used to know."
"Well, I'm afraid I can't help you recall who she was."
"It's okay. It'll come back to me eventually."
Brett returned his eyes to the road and tried to work out the puzzle, keeping the big car close to the white line as the road began to curve up into the mountains.
Sharon watched the scenery as they drove up to the cabin. Brett watched some scenery too, only his favorite type of scenery was built differently from hers. His eyes kept wandering over those full, luscious breasts, and on down to greener pastures.
When they reached the gate, Brett stopped the car and got out. He pulled the key Don had given him out of his pocket and pushed it into the lock. Sharon drove the car through while he held the gate open; then he locked it behind them.
There was no chance of their being disturbed now. The key Brett had just dropped back into his pocket was the only one that would fit the gate. He had, in effect, just locked out the rest of the world.
Not a bad way to spend your life, either, he thought happily, as he" strode back to the car. A man could amuse himself here for a long time with a babe like Sharon to play with.
Brett parked the car on the top of the hill and reached back for the picnic basket. Sharon ran her comb through her hair while she still had the car mirror to use; then they started down the hill.
Sharon ran on down ahead of him, and he kept his eyes on the taut, jouncing cheeks of her butt. Every time she bent a leg, that inticing little crease would form under a cheek. God, she's a lot of woman! he mused.
"Hey, wild one! C'mon over here for a sec," he called.
She turned and came back toward him, her breasts bouncing as she ran.
"If you want, I'll show you a little cove where we'll be surrounded by rocks and water. You can only walk in at low tide, and it's just about that, right now. It's really secluded, and I think I'm the only one who knows it exists."
"Okay, that'd be great. Nothing like really getting away from it all. I just want to relax and unwind today. Its' been so long since I've been able to get out of that smoggy city. Lead on, master, and I will follow."
"We'd better change into our suits first. It'll leave us with less stuff to carry when we come out."
"Where can I change?"
"You can go into the cabin. Here's the key." He pulled the key out of his pocket and dangled the chain in front of her. "I'm going to change here. Nobody can see the beach, anyway."
"I'll change here too-if you give me your word you won't watch."
"Silly girl. With a body like yours in question, I'd never keep a promise like that even if I gave it. I'm only normal, baby."
"Okay. Give me the key."
He tossed the key across to her and began unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes followed her sleek form as she hurried toward the cabin.
Brett stripped off his pants and shorts, still facing the cabin. He knew she could see him if she wanted to, and he hoped she was looking. She would be a lot easier to climb if she could see what he had to offer, he figured. He pulled his cigarettes and lighter from his clothes before he bent to pick up the tight suit.
It was a bikini style, and without a jock strap under it, he might as well have been nude. He had no intention of wearing a jock today. He wanted that juicy, blonde morsel to see every reaction his body made to her. He hiked the trunks up, and used one hand to hold his tool in while he pulled the suit into place. He looked down, and it was plain to see that Sharon would soon know all he had to offer, even if she wasn't watching him now. He smiled and bent down to fold his clothes.
Opening his pack of smokes, he took one out. Sharon came out of the cabin just as he was lighting it, wearing a white bikini that barely covered the full, round curves of her body. Her dark tan contrasted beautifully with the white material, and there were no patches of paler skin to mar the effect.
"Wow! Is that legal T
"You like it? I borrowed it from Andrea. It doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it?"
"Just enough to make a man think, baby, and that's just what every girl should be aiming at."
"Are you thinking?"
"Are you kidding?"
Her eyes traveled down his body to the front of his suit.
"Yes, I can see that you are. C'mon, a swim will cool you down."
They swam for twenty minutes, enjoying the refreshing water. Sharon was a good swimmer, and Brett found himself enjoying her company more and more. For the first time in months, he began to feel himself unwinding.
Her suit was plastered to her body when they got out of the water, and all her fabulous attributes were in plain view for him to see. The pert little nipples showed through the wet material of her bra, and Brett had to fight the urge to reach out and touch, them. But he knew he had to control himself now; she was too bloody superior. If he let her think that he didn't really care if she put out, maybe she'd loosen up a bit.
"C'mon, let's go out to the cove," he said. "We'll have to swim in if we don't get out there and back be-fore the tide comes in."
"Okay. I'm ready."
Brett picked up the two beach towels and beach robes, and Sharon carried the basket she had brought. She followed him along the beach to the edge of a sheer wall of cliffs.
"Where do we go now?" she asked. "That's solid rock."
"Just like a woman-no imagination. Follow me."
He took her hand and led her around the cliffs. They had to walk about twenty feet out into the water to get around, but once on the other side they found themselves on a sandy beach again. It covered an area of about twenty by thirty feet, which shortened at high tide to ten by twenty. They were surrounded by cliffs on three sides, and the ocean cut them off on the fourth.
"Oh, this is marvelous, Brett. I feel like an explorer, or something. I'll bet no one else has ever been here!"
"You could be right."
Brett spread one of the towels on the sand and folded the other one for a pillow. Sharon reached into the picnic basket, pulled out some suntan lotion and said, "You'd better use some of this. Your tan is pretty light. You'll be burned to a crisp by evening if you don't."
"Okay. You do me and I'll do you."
"I don't know about that. I don't want to get you all excited again."
"Don't let that bother you. Personally, I think you're afraid you can't trust yourself. You sure have a funny way of testing whether or not you can be true to that fiance of yours. How will you ever find out, if you keep running from any kind of contact with men? I thought the idea was to get close to other men, and see if you could still hold back."
"Who's afraid? Lie down. I'll do you first."
Brett stretched out on his chest and rested his head on his arms.
"Don't miss anything, now. You wouldn't want me to have any red spots."
"I won't. I'll even pull the trunks down a bit, just to make sure."
He felt the coolness of the liquid as she poured it on his shoulders. Then he felt her warm, soft hands massaging the oil into his skin. She worked slowly, covering his back and reaching down under his arms to his chest.
Then her fingers slipped under the back of his suit, and he felt a tingling sensation reel through his body as her hand rubbed the oil into the tops of his buttocks. She reached deep and seemed to be in no hurry as she carefully massaged and stroked his buttcheeks.
Finally she shifted her position and started on his ankles, then slowly worked her way up both legs. As her fingers moved on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, they brushed the growing mass that strained at his suit-not once, and not accidentally. Time after time, her fingers brushed him. His control was being shot down in flames, and he could imagine her smiling face above him.
He forced his mind to think about the different-colored grains of sand in front of his face, and slowly but steadily the throbbing in his cock began to settle down again.
"Okay, this side's done. Roll over," she instructed him.
Brett rolled over, and closed his eyes as she began to gently rub the oil into his face and throat. Her hands were light and smooth as they worked down his chest. She circled his nipples and ran her fingertips over them again and again, sending little shocks through him.
Abruptly, Brett realized why Sharon was so important to him-he suddenly remembered who she reminded him of. Her mannerisms, her ideas, and her down-to-earth outlook on life matched those of the only girl he'd ever really loved, a girl he'd made himself forget.
His mind was torn by the mixed emotions he now felt for this beautiful girl.
He wanted to take her and put her on the pedestal he'd built for that first girl. He was sure he could be happy with Sharon, and for the first time in five years he felt he might be able to trust a woman. Suddenly, it became very important to him to win and hold this girl, to keep her beside him for the rest of his life.
But Brett was no longer the kid who'd fallen for that lovely blonde schoolgirl five years ago. He'd learned a lot since then, and it all urged him to proceed carefully. He wanted nothing more than to be able to open his mind to this girl beside him-to tell her how much he'd suffered once, and why he'd since felt nothing but contempt for the female sex, until he met her.
He was certain he could make Sharon understand why he'd come to feel this way. Surely, she wouldn't blame him for feeling the way he did about most women; she'd realize that his opinion was because of the way he'd been forced to suffer in the name of love.
Brett opened his eyes and studied the beautiful, angelic face that hovered above him. Sharon was deeply engrossed in the job of covering his body with the protective oil, and she made no attempt to speak.
Brett let his eyes travel down her body. It really was magnificent. The tight suit showed him femininity the way it was meant to be. He felt no particular sexual urge as he looked at her nearly nude body-just the kind of admiration a man can feel for a fast, sleek sports car or the strong, flowing lines of a purebred racehorse. This girl, who was giving his body so much loving care, was a purebred in her own realm, a perfect specimen of womanhood.
Even more important, she demanded the respect that her mind and body deserved. She had no intention of giving in casually to just any horny man, even if she found them enticing.
Brett wanted very much to be able to trust her, but his whole personality had suffered a vicious blow the last time he'd trusted a girl. He knew that if he ever trusted again and was let down again, he would suffer even more horribly.
Sharon was apparently oblivious to the struggle raging in Brett's mind, totally absorbed in the task of spreading the oil. She was moving very slowly, obviously enjoying feeling his well-muscled arms and the matted hair on his chest. Her hands crossed the same areas again and again.
"Sharon, are you sure you love this guy?" Brett asked abruptly.
"Sure, I'm sure. Why?"
"I think I'm falling for you."
She stopped the action of her hands and moved up so she could look at his face.
"I think this sun is getting to you. You must have some form of sunstroke."
"No, I really mean it. Would I have any kind of a chance with you?"
"You're not ready to settle down, Brett, "you want to hop from bed to bed, enjoying other men's wives. It would never work with me. I have no intention of sharing my husband with all the other attractive women in town."
"I can change, baby, can't I?"
"I don't know, Brett. Maybe you can, but I don't think you'd be happy with one woman at this stage of your life."
"You're an awful lot of woman, Sharon. I think I could be pretty well satisfied to spend all my nights in the sack with you."
"I'm not the kind of girl you want, Brett. I'm basically a quiet homebody. I want to have a big family and enjoy my children."
"How do you know what kind of woman I want? I think I'm better qualified than you are to decide on that point."
"Brett, you're a nice guy. You're good-looking, and you're fun to be with. But I just don't see you helping your wife dry the supper dishes and driving the boys to den meetings."
"You still haven't answered my question."
"Which one?"
"Would I stand a chance if I changed my ways and became the kind of guy you want?"
Sharon began to rub the oil into his chest again, and her eyes turned away from his. He watched her face for some sign of answer, but her expression didn't change.
"Sharon, I had a girl like you once, and I lost her. I'm not kidding about this. I want to know if I stand a chance; I don't care how much of a chance. I know I'll have to do a lot of changing to convince you that I'm serious about this, but all I'm asking is a chance to try."
That beautiful face turned toward him again, and he felt the warning shoot through his mind: You can't trust any of them, and you should know by now.
"No, Brett, you don't have a chance. I'm sorry. It was very flattering to hear what you just said to me, but you see, it came too late. Just try to enjoy the time we've got together, and remember there are a lot of girls like me. You'll find the one you're looking for someday. It just takes time."
"No, Sharon, I don't think I will. I gave every-thing I had to a girl once, and whatever it is that makes a woman fall in love with a man is missing from my personality now. I lost that warmth or appeal, or whatever it is that makes a woman want to get close to a man-to his feelings, I mean, not his body. I thought for just a second that maybe you could feel it, but I should have known it was gone. Sorry I said what I did. Just forget it, okay?"
She turned to him and smiled. Now those even white teeth seemed to be mocking him as she looked at him.
Brett closed his eyes again and let the warning voice deep in his mind take control of his thoughts: You almost made the mistake again, Brett; you almost trusted another woman. They're good for only one thing, and you know what that is.
Once again he let his mind work on a plan that would enable him to make use of the female animal above him.
He knew she would act just as all the other broads did if she ever let herself go. It would have been easier to make her if she was already married, but there still had to be a way. He'd never missed yet, and Sharon just couldn't be all that different.
He let his mind run over his past conquests, trying to fit her into one of the many categories that he had placed the past successes in....
* * *
Maybe she'd go for the line he'd used on that Irish broad. It had been a similar problem. She was engaged to a law student who had suffered a nervous breakdown. Brett had dated her for a month, and although she'd seemed to enjoy his company, every time he'd tried to get past the petting stage she'd freeze up on him.
She had told him that she was a virgin, and was going to save herself for her boy friend. Brett had tried everything he knew, but she just wasn't capable of responding-even when he had her stripped and ready to go. He'd been tempted to force her on more than one occasion, but he hadn't wanted to spoil a good thing. She was a real looker, and he'd wanted her to move with him, not against him.
He'd finally made the grade one night in her apartment. They had been drinking heavily, and he had stripped her to her bra and panties. Then he'd stripped completely, and she willingly began to stroke his rod. But she froze up again when he tried to put it in her, and he backed off.
Then it had struck him.
"Look, honey, John is in there because he's a nervous wreck, right?"
"Yes, Brett."
"Well, when he gets out, he's going to need strong people around him to help him regain his strength, right?"
"Yes, I guess so."
Brett was playing with one of her taut breasts while he talked, and the slow stroking was having its effect.
"Well, baby, every night you get all worked up, and then you won't go through with it. By the time John gets out, you'll be a nervous wreck yourself."
"I know. I can't sleep any more."
"Okay, then. Let's you and I have a little roll in the hay, just for the physical release. You'll feel a hundred per cent better, and be all the more able to help John when he comes out. The way you are now, you'll just put him right back in there."
"Oh, God, Brett, I do want to go all the way so badly, but it seems like cheating!"
"The only way you'll be cheating him is if you don't, and as a result, wind up sending him back in worse shape than he was in the first place."
She leaned closer to him and put her arms around him.
"Oh, Brett, I just don't know."
Brett knew. It had worked. She was melting in his arms, and a little more encouragement would get her into bed.
"You know I'm right, baby. C'mon."
Just like all the rest, all she'd needed was an excuse to tell herself, and then all hell couldn't have stopped her from climbing into the closest bed available.
Sharon was smarter than the Irish babe though, and she wasn't a virgin. Well, he'd had to invent a new approach for that Irish bitch, and he was sure he could do it in Sharon's case, too. There had to be some angle he'd missed, something that would lead to the success he had in mind.
She was slowly driving him out of his mind with her smooth hands working over his chest. He let his mind go blank, lost in the magic of those sensitive fingers.
The warmth of the sun became secondary to the warmth her hands gave him. They traveled over his belly and worked downward to the light blond hair that covered his lower abdomen. Once again those efficient fingers slipped under the top of his suit, and suddenly his control was shot all to hell.
Her hands were barely missing the root of his passion, and the front of his trunks rose with his excitement. She moved on down to his legs, and as she rubbed his thighs the backs of her hands grazed his now-throbbing cock.
There was no denying that he wanted her. She finished doing his legs, and laughed.
"You're all excited again, Mr. Hansen. What are we going to do with you?"
"I have some suggestions, if you're open to them."
"Uh-uh. It's your turn to do rne."
"I'd love to, baby."
"With the suntan oil, fella. That's all."
She stretched out on the cushion of those beautiful boobs and turned her head away from him, closing her eyes.
You rotten bitch! You're nothing but a tease, he thought, as he got up on his knees. Well, two can play at that game. Let's see how much you can take.
Brett started on her back, using only one hand, moving in slow, leisurely circles. He slipped it under the back-band of the top of her suit and massaged toward each side; then his hand reached around and massaged half of one full breast, then half of the other.
He moved on down, working longer on the small of her back. He noticed her hips moving slightly, and pressed his hand down under the bottom of her suit. He covered her entire butt, pushing the suit out of the way when it interfered. She didn't complain, so he carefully explored every nook and cranny of the luscious, firm globes.
His fingertips felt the fluffy down as his hand dipped lower, and she contracted her butt-cheeks as he pulled the hand back up. He worked over her legs, then leaned back and took one last look at the pert, dimpled cheeks of her ass before he rolled her over.
He noticed with satisfaction that her nipples were starting to swell under her bra, and that she was breathing more rapidly now, too.
He applied the lotion to her angelic face, and worked downward toward those lovely, global treasures the halter barely concealed. He slipped his hand under the material and let his fingers come close to a now-rigid nipple. Her breathing had sped up even more, and was coming in short gasps now.
He reached lower and rolled the hard tip between his thumb and forefinger. Sharon moaned, and her hips lurched up off the towel toward him. His hand went to her belly and spread the lotion in wide circles.
Her hips were moving rhythmically as he pushed his hand down under the fabric and straight to the crux of her passion. He stroked her clit just once, and she immediately clamped her thighs on his hand and shook violently with the spasms of orgasm.
Brett knew he'd blown it. God, who would have guessed she'd go that fast, he thought. She must have really been straining to hold out for her buddy back east. God, had she ever been ready; she'd really needed that.
Brett began moving his hand again, hoping to heat her up again so he could accomplish his mission. But her hand stopped his, and she sat up slowly, trying to breathe normally.
"Thanks, Brett. I really needed that. I haven't been able to sleep properly for the last month. I'll be able to make it now, though, for sure."
"C'mon, baby, you've gone this far. Let's finish the job."
Brett stood up and struggled out of the tight trunks, his huge, rock-hard dick making it twice as difficult as usual to get them off.
"Look, baby. Has your boy friend got this much to offer you?"
"No, Brett, he hasn't. I know you won't understand this, but it really doesn't matter. I don't need it, but I feel I do owe you something for guaranteeing that I'll be faithful to him. Lie down here beside me, and I'll do you the same way.
Brett couldn't think; his mind was confused. She was actually turning him down-she had planned the whole thing just so she could use his hand to give her what she wanted!
He lay down, and Sharon took his rod in both hands and began to move them back and forth. But the shock of failure had finished Brett. His cock shriveled under her touch, becoming suddenly very small and insignificant.
Sharon shrugged and said, "Just forget sex for the rest of the day, Brett, and let's enjoy the water and the sun."
Brett fell back on the beach towel and closed his eyes. His mind kept repeating over and over again: I'll have another chance. I haven't failed yet. I've lost a battle, but not the war. She's probably just tired. She'll come across eventually. I'll have another chance. I haven't failed yet....
Sharon swam and sunned herself for the next three hours, while Brett's tortured mind escaped into the refuge of sleep. It was five o'clock when he woke up, and she seemed happy to see that he was his old self again.
Brett built a fire, and they ate the food Sharon had packed. There was plenty, and he stuffed himself thinking that Sharon would make some guy a real nice wife. But he was all the more determined that he would use her body before any other man could have it again.
Brett didn't try anything more with her for the time being. He was going to use a different approach now. Just because she hadn't gone for one line of attack didn't mean she wouldn't fall for another. He became a perfect gentleman, although he felt that with a broad like Sharon, that task wasn't easy for any man.
The tide was almost in now, and the waves lapped just a few feet from the fire.
"Are you ready to leave now, Brett?" she asked.
"Sorry, Sharon, but I'm afraid we're stuck here until around midnight. It's forty feet out past the cliffs now, and the tide causes whirlpools around the edges of the rocks. We'd have to swim out there with this stuff on our heads, and we'd probably never make it. It's too risky to leave until almost low tide."
"Why didn't you tell me this before, if you knew all about it?"
"I sort of figured you'd be quite happy to spend the time here with me, to tell you the truth. We were supposed to be too busy giving each other pleasure to notice."
"I'm really sorry, Brett. Please try to understand. I love my fiance, and I just don't want to make love to any other man. It's not your fault. You're even better-looking than he is, I'll admit that. But he's my man, and that makes him twice as appealing to me as you are. It's that simple."
"Yeah, I understand, Sharon."
He gave her a smile and settled back down on the robe. Sure, he understood. But he was just as sure she'd let him have his way as soon as she developed those hots again. He wouldn't make the same mistake next time-no hand treatment for her. It might take him a month to get to her, but sooner or later he'd hold those proud cheeks in his hands, and she'd beg him to give her his joy-stick.
They sat closer to the fire as the evening chill crept in off the water. He gave her one robe and wrapped the other around himself as they talked the hours away. He didn't try to make her at all, but instead remained in his role of the perfect gentleman as the evening rolled by.
They walked out with the low tide, and he waited in the car while she changed her clothes.
She laughed and joked with him on the way back to the Simpsons'. Brett had released her pent-up tensions, and her mind was free of trouble now.
He wasn't so lucky. He answered her questions and joked with her, but his mind was miles away. He was planning his next date with Sharon. It had to be perfect-but he knew he was just the guy to pull it off.
She kissed him lightly on the forehead as she stepped out of the car.
"Thanks again, Brett, for helping me to make the grade. I'm really sorry that you didn't get what you wanted, but I think you understand how it has to be now."
"Yeah, sure, baby. That's okay. You can't win 'em all."
"Good-bye, Brett."
"Good night, Sharon."
Brett finished formulating his plans as he drove back to Don and Marion's, but realized he would have to let Sharon work up a good heat again before he tried to put the make on her.
In the meantime, tomorrow he'd go back for another session with Andrea. She would relieve the need that had built up in his body. He'd drop by in the after-noon and surprise her. Just thinking about it made him feel better. His shorts grew tight as he imagined her naked, squirming body under his. Yes, Andrea was just the girl to fix him up.
Don and Marion were in bed when he got home. He expected Marion would come to him in the morning, even though he hadn't had a chance to talk to her tonight.
Tomorrow was going to be a good day-first Marion, then Andrea.
I'll need a good night's sleep, he thought.
He stripped off his clothes and climbed between the sheets, stretching his strong, lean form the full length of the bed. He dropped off to sleep quickly, his mind at ease. Soon Sharon would be just another number on the long list of pigs he'd had, and besides, tomorrow was going to prove to be a full day for his virile body.
CHAPTER NINE
The sun streaming in the window struck Brett in the face, and he rolled over and yawned. He stretched and looked over at the clock on the dresser. Five to ten. He leaned back, pushing his head deeper into the soft pillow. He listened carefully, but the house was quiet.
Marion hadn't come in to wake him up. Maybe she was still asleep. No, she always got up with Don.
He got out of bed and walked to the door. He was nude and in the usual state of arousal that the morning brought.
He turned the handle and pushed the door of Marion's room open. The bed was made and empty. He walked down to the kitchen and picked up the note on the table. It read:
Brett-Going to the doctor and then to do some shopping. Be back about two.
He crumpled the paper up and tossed it back on the table. His eyes looked down at his upright penis, and he cursed and muttered to himself, "I could have used the bitch this morning. Oh, well, Andrea will have to make up for it, I guess."
He walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He left it on cold and let the water stream over him, cooling his body down for the time being. He latered himself with the soap, then stepped under the stream of water.
The rough towel felt good as he rubbed himself dry. Back in his room, he picked out some clean clothes. He admired the strong physique in the mirror for a second, then pulled them on.
* * *
Brett pulled into the Simpsons' driveway at one-thirty. He'd just come from getting a haircut. He figured Andrea would be at the pool now, and eagerly started for the gate that opened onto the well- kept grounds.
In the bathhouse, he stripped out of his clothes and started to put on the white suit. Then he thought better of it, and threw it down on one of the padded chairs.
She'd probably be alone, but he thought he'd better open the opaque window and check the pool area before he went out, just to be sure. No sense in wearing the trunks if she was alone; he'd just have to pull them off again anyway.
He opened the latch and pushed the window open a crack. At first he couldn't see anybody, but then he noticed that the float was moving in the pool.
He was about to close the window and go out when he suddenly saw a bare ass begin to bounce up and down on the float. All he could see was the bouncing butt, because the float had sunk in the middle under the weight of the two bodies.
Andrea was there, though. He was sure of that. The dirty bitch was humping for some other bastard.
Brett closed the window carefully, then smashed his fist into one of the padded chairs.
"The bitch!" he rasped. "The dirty, filthy bitch! She could be having me, and she's out there with some other bastard!"
His anger had blanked his mind for a moment, but soon a plan began to form. He'd make her pay. God, would she pay!
He reached for the white trunks and pulled them on. He covered the ground to his car hurriedly, leaving the gate open as he passed through it. He found the latch of the glove compartment, and his hands began searching.
Yes, the camera was still there, just where he'd left it. He checked to see if it was loaded. Yep, all ready to go.
He ran back down the path to the bathhouse and returned to the window. He opened it carefully and smiled as he watched the naked rump come up over the edge of the float into' view, then sink back down out of sight. He went out the door and moved across to the bar. Crouching behind it, he found a spot where he could see both the float and the lounges.
He didn't have to wait long before Andrea stood up and dove off the float. A strong-looking, dark, curly-haired stud followed her. He was lighter than Brett, and about two inches shorter.
Brett smiled. Yes, this'll work out great, he thought. I can beat that bastard to a pulp if I have to. He was sure he wouldn't have to, though. They would undoubtedly be too interested in each other to notice him.
Andrea's stud caught her near the lounge, took her firm body in his arms, and kissed her passionately. Her hands brushed his chest and stroked him lightly; then they worked down between their bodies until she was holding his rod. Brett smiled as he noted with satisfaction that his cock was bigger than the other guy's, too.
He raised his hands and aimed. The camera clicked quietly, and he turned it for another shot. He took the whole roll of film, getting them in several positions with their faces showing,-so there would be no doubt as to who the couple was. When the film was used up he sat back and relaxed, watching the two bodies twist and turn in ecstasy.
They rolled into the grass, and Andrea turned her body around and took her lover with her lips, The stud quickly took advantage of her widely spread legs to return the favor. They kissed frantically, their bodies twisting and sliding on the grass.
Brett wished he'd saved some of the film. This would make made a great picture. Andrea had almost accomplished the impossible. She reminded him of a kid trying to eat a foot-long hot dog in one bite.
The stub's hips moved slowly, urging her on. His hands went around to her ass and pulled her down closer to him. As the back of his head came to rest on the grass, he began to roll it from side to side.
Andrei was moaning loud enough for Brett to hear, and she was obviously enjoying the sensation the guy's thrashing tongue was providing. Her hands went between his thighs and began to stroke his nuts as her head bobbed. The stud's body stiffened, and his hips rose and fell in five frantic, driving thrusts as he shot his passion wad. Andrea had lifted her head just in time, and finished him with her hand while his tongue flashed wildly, bringing her over the brink with him in a convulsion that was familiar to Brett. Finally she rolled off the guy's inert body and collapsed beside him.
They stayed that way for a while, then walked arm in arm over to the edge of the pool. They dived in, and Brett watched them swim over to the float and crawl on. In a second they had disappeared from sight. He raised himself carefully from the cover of the bar and made a dash for .the bathhouse.
Brett stripped the trunks off his panting body and swiftly pulled on his clothes. He left the trunks where he'd dropped them and walked out the other door.
He, was about to open the gate when he noticed a man of about thirty raking leaves in the yard. He. walked over to the short, dumpy fellow and cleared his throat.
"You the gardener?"
"Yup."
Brett took a pencil and pad from his jacket pocket and began to write:
Andrea-I dropped by today, but you were very busy with your friend on the float. I didn't want to bother you, so I just took some snapshots of the beautiful scenery. I think you'll be interested in seeing them. I'll be here tomorrow at ten to show them to you.-Brett.
"Give this to Mrs. Simpson when she comes out of the pool," he said as he folded the paper twice and gave it to the gardener with a five-dollar bill.
"Thanks, mister. I sure will."
Brett hurried back to his car. He had a little developing to get done in a hurry.
He located a telephone booth just before he got to the freeway, where he pulled the big convertible off the road and climbed out. Once inside, he opened the phone book to the yellow pages and looked for Photographic Finishers. He found a number and dialed it.
"Do you do rush orders?"
"What do you want done?"
"A roll of color film."
"Bring it in, and I'll do it for you in an hour."
"Fine. I'll be down in ten minutes."
Brett hung up the phone and closed the open book, thinking, Okay, Andrea, baby, you're about to learn that no pig with hot pants drops Brett Hansen. He climbed back into his car and headed for the studio.
The man behind the counter greeted him with a smile. "Good afternoon. May I help you?"
"I'm not too sure. I just phoned in about having you develop a roll of color film for me in a hurry."
"Oh, yes. Well, I'll get started on it right away."
"There's one thing I think I should tell you. They're shots of a couple making love. My wife has been cheating on me, and I've finally got the proof."
"Well, I don't do that kind of work, mister. You'd better try somebody else."
"I'm willing to pay you a hundred bucks if they turn out good. But if you're not interested...."
The man behind the counter broke out in a sweat. Brett knew he had him: a hundred bucks was too much for him to pass up. As Brett started to turn toward the door, the man said, "Okay, let me have them. But I'll deny having had anything to do with this if anybody ever asks."
"Sure, I understand. All I want are the prints."
Brett handed the film to him, crossed the room to one of the chairs, and sat down. He'd make Andrea pay dearly for those shots; well over the hundred bucks they were costing him. He was going to make her crawl. When he was through with her, she'd wish she were dead.
He picked up a magazine and began to leaf through it, but was unable to concentrate on the pages. Finally he gave it up. He smoked cigarette after cigarette, waiting for the man to come back through the curtained doorway behind the counter. Finally, the guy showed, "Here you are, mister," he said, handing Brett a white envelope. Brett reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed the sweating man five twenties, and returned the wallet to his pocket.
"Those were pretty wild. She's ... quite a woman, isn't she?" the man commented nervously.
"You'd like to get into that too, wouldn't you, buddy?" Brett replied. "Well, shell take on almost anybody, but you'd never stand a chance."
Brett laughed at the fat. open-mouthed bastard and left the shop. He couldn't wait to get to the car. As he walked, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out the pictures.
God, they were good, all right! There they were, in living color. He didn't bother opening the car door; he was in too much of a hurry. He vaulted over and turned the key, bringing the powerful car into action.
He was worked up. He needed a broad, any broad. First watching Andrea and her stud, and now seeing these pictures-Christ, he needed a woman. He knew where he could find a good tumble in. a hurry.
He pulled into Betty's driveway and shut, off the motor. He placed the prints carefully in the glove compartment and locked it. He sure as hell didn't want anything to happen to them now.
Betty answered the first ring of the doorbell.
"Hi, doll. You rested from the last session?" he asked brightly.
"I'm always ready, Brett. C'mon in."
He followed her down the hall to the bedroom, enjoying the view of her plump, rolling buttocks under the tight material of her shorts.
"Why don't you invite Karen over?" he suggested.
"She wasn't too happy about the last time. She says I pay too much attention to you. She's really quite jealous, you know. I don't want to make her mad, either. We've been keeping each other happy for a long time now, and I have to admit that she can do things for me that a man can't. Don't get me wrong-I'm no Lesbian, but she's always available, if you know what I mean."
"Okay, honey. I don't care whether she joins us or not. You're plenty of woman for me."
Her-hands went to the hooks of her halter, and she pulled it free. The enormous mounds of her breasts tumbled out, bouncing in front of his eager eyes!
"God, they're fantastic, Betty. Come here and let me play with them a little."
She crossed to him, throwing her shoulders back. Her mammoth tits jumped out even further, and he bent his mouth to a nipple hungrily. His hand gave the other one the attention it craved and deserved. He kissed and rubbed, letting the mounds of flesh surround his face.. He knew what he was going to do this time, and man, she was really built for it.
He backed away from her, and his hands went to the belt and zipper of his pants. He stuck his thumbs beneath the top of his pants and slowly pulled them down his legs. He bent in front of her and pulled them free of his ankles and feet, tossing them into a chair beside the window.
Betty stood before him, caressing her pulsating nipples, as his hands found the tops of his jockey shorts and pulled them downward. He had to reach around to the front and lift them over his hard, extended cock.
Betty crossed to him, and he lifted his hands while she finished stripping the shorts down his legs. He lifted one foot and then the other, letting her take them from around his ankles. She dropped them to the floor and put her arms around his thighs, cupping his small, hard-muscled buttocks in the palms of her eager hands.
His hips moved forward as she parted her lips,, and her tongue flicked lightly at the tip of his staff. Her hands drew his body even closer, and ne felt her mouth claiming as much of his rod as she could take in. He watched the back of her head in the mirror as she bobbed it wildly, and his hands went to her shoulders for support while she moved.
He let his eyes work down the curve of her back until his gaze rested on the bouncing buttocks in the mirror. Every time she moved her head they would lift from her heels and rise tantilizingly. The tight shorts revealed the entire outline of the taut cheeks to his vision.
He reached down and pulled her up. He didn't want to finish this way, not this time. He had better things in mind for this bitch with the fantastic boobs. His hands found the clasp of her shorts and undid it.
Her hips began to rotate against him as he pulled down the zipper and worked the tight shorts down her body. When they were past her thighs he stopped and slipped one hand under the top of each side of her sheer nylon panties. The palms worked around to the back and he cupped each cheek lovingly as he pushed downward, taking the panties with him. He sank in front of her and pulled the shorts and panties down to her ankles. She raised her feet, and he tossed the discarded items on the chair with his pants.
Brett's hands slowly worked their way back up Betty's shuddering legs, his fingers moving in small circles. When he was holding her buttocks firmly again, he slowly pulled her toward him. His mouth opened just before making contact, and his tongue darted, flashing to her clit. Betty's hips moved passionately against his loving mouth, her whole body rocking rhythmically, lost in what he was doing.
When she came very close to hitting a climax, Brett stood up and began to unbutton his shirt. Betty moved quickly to the bed and lay on her back, Her legs fell open, giving him an unobstructed view of her pussy until her hand slipped in and blocked it off from his eyes, and she began to stroke herself.
"Hurry, Brett! Ohhh!"
His fingers closed around a little jar of vaseline, which he took from his shirt pocket. Then he dropped the shirt to the floor and climbed up to join her on the bed. He kissed her navel, then moved upward.
His attention once again went to those glorious globes, somewhat flattened by her position but still sticking out and up toward his questing mouth. He teased each nipple with his tongue and teeth, bringing them out hard and pulsating with excitement. Her hands were working on his dick, now, and stroking his balls between his parted thighs.
Suddenly he moved up on her body, straddled her belly, and pinned her arms with his legs. Then, before Betty could protest, he took the top off the jar, stuck in his finger, and quickly worked the vaseline into the huge valley between her tits.
In a flash, his hands found the sides of those monstrous, flesh cones, and pushed them together over his throbbing cock. He moved his hips rapidly back and forth, spreading the vaseline with his embedded tool, while the friction caused by the tightly-pressed boobs made him tingle all over.
"Brett, don't go all the way like this. Do it right," Betty pleaded.
"Sorry, baby, but ever since I first saw these big knockers of yours, I've wanted to come this way."
"No, Brett! For God's sake-NO!"
She was struggling now, but it was useless. His legs held her arms firmly, and she couldn't get free. He was lost in the pleasure of the act and didn't even hear her sobbing, pleading cries.
"No. no, no, no. Brett ... you bastard ... you dirty, rotten bastardl!"
His hands squeezed her breasts even harder and jiggled them back and forth viciously. God, it was good! he thought. So soft, yet just as tight as he wanted to make it.
The flesh tits moved more quickly now, his hands making them answer every wish of his body. His thumbs dug at the big pulsating nipples as he drew the massive globes back and forth in front of him. He enjoyed the tortured look on Betty's face as he bounced on her chest.
God, it was nice to have her this way, he thought. He knew she hated every second of it, and that realization heightened his pleasure more and more with every stroke he made between those monstrous mounds. Her legs were thrashing frantically at the bed as she kept trying to break free, but he held her firmly, enjoying the bucking of her-fighting body.
He was coming-ohhh, God, it was good-ohhh-ahhh!
Then he was there, the ecstasy tearing through his body as he pumped his passion juices into the valley between those luscious cones.
He didn't see Karen come into the room. He was too busy delivering the final degrading blows to Betty with short, fast strokes of his rigid rod.
He didn't resist as Karen pulled him off, because he was still lost in the after-bliss of release. Betty climbed off the bed, tears rolling down her cheeks and dropping on to her already wet breasts. They were stuck together comically now, and when Brett noticed that, he burst out in a fit of mocking laughter.
Karen slapped him hard across the face. He stood up slowly, realizing for the first time that she was in the room. She backed away, obviously frightened of the leering grin which slowly came over his face.
"Don't worry, you Lezzy bitch! I didn't do any permanent damage to your playmate. She'll be ready to love you as soon as she washes those big boobs of hers."
"You dirty, rotten son of a bitch! Get the hell out of here, and don't ever come back!"
He moved toward Karen, deciding he wanted her, too. It would be fun to play the same game between those small, firm breasts of hers.
"I'm warning you, you son of a bitch-come near me, and I'll have you up for rape-and I'm not kidding!"
Brett could see that she meant what she said. She wasn't cowering now; she was walking toward the phone.
"Now get the hell out of here, and don't come back."
Brett didn't like to be turned down by a broad, much less ordered around. But she had him where she wanted him, and he knew it.
He dressed quickly and went out to his car. He was happy about the way he'd shown Betty what a pig she was, but he Was pissed off about the way Karen had made him jump like a puppet on a string.
The tires squealed as he floored the accelerator, thinking about the damned McDonald bitch. She'd put one over on him, and he wouldn't be able to forget that very easily-but he didn't know yet what he could do about it.
Brett couldn't under stand what was happening to him lately. First Andrea had dropped him for that inferior :stud, and now he'd lost both Betty and Karen. Well, he wasn't about to forget any of them yet. He'd get even with Andrea tomorrow; and when Jack and Phil got back, he'd see to it that they found out about the Lezzie games their wives played when they were out of town. That would partly do to pay Karen back.
He still had Marion, anyway, and she was enough to keep him busy until he could find a few new broads to tackle. Christ, what was he worried about? There were plenty more bitches around, and they all wanted to climb into bed with a good stud. Marion didn't give him her usual bright smile when he walked in the door, but he was so preoccupied he scarcely noticed it. He pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and joined Don in the living room, where he was watching a football game.
Don seemed happier than hell. He must have had a good day at the store, Brett thought. They drank and talked for the rest of the evening. Marion didn't join them; she said she was tired, and went to bed. Brett didn't give a damn. There wasn't much he could do with Don at home, anyway.
He was pretty well soused when he and Don finally decided to call it a night. Tomorrow he was going to make Andrea sorry she'd ever picked up a new stud, and just the thought of that lulled him into a peaceful sleep.
CHAPTER TEN
It was exactly 10:00 a.m. when Brett pulled his car in behind the blue Jag in the Simpsons' driveway and got out. He was looking forward to this little showdown more than he'd ever looked forward to anything in his life. He was going to get her; he was going to get her real good.
Andrea answered the door herself and motioned him in to the den. He sank into the same overstuffed chair he'd relaxed in the first night he was at the house. Andrea closed the door and turned on him, waving the note he'd written to her in front of his face.
"What the hell do you me an by this?" she demanded.
"Just what it says. I've got some real nice color pictures of you and your young stud. I wasn't enough, eh, you nymphomaniac bitch? Well, now you're going to pay for letting that bastard take my place."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out the white envelope. He glanced through the shots and pulled one out.
"Here's a good one. You can see the passion writ-ten all over your perspiration-covered face."
He tossed the picture over to her and went on, "You take a good picture, Andrea. So does he, as far as that goes."
"Ohhh, no!"
"Take a good look at them, baby. There are some real dandies. He's really giving it to you in this one."
He moved over to her and held the picture up for her inspection. Andrea dropped her face, refusing to look at it. Brett grabbed her chin roughly and forced her to stare at the lust-filled scene.
"That's it, baby. Have a good look. Was he worth it, honey? Look at this one-you can see exactly how big his cock is. Did it feel good, baby, huh? Did you have a good time?.. His tool is smaller than mine, though, isn't it? You should have stuck with me."
Andrea reached up and pulled the photograph out of his hand. He didn't try to stop her as she tore it up and threw it on the floor. He just backed off and laughed at her.
"Oh, you kill me, baby. C'mon, you must know I've got lots more. We can go on like this all day."
He began passing them under her eyes slowly making her look at them. She wasn't fighting him now. She knew it was no use. He intended to make her suffer the embarrassment of seeing all the pictures.
"How do you like this one? You're just getting your jollies here, and look at your face. Christ, was he ever driving at you then, baby! Well, how do you like them, Andrea? Would you like to have all of them-and the negatives.
She fell back into the chair and stared at the pictures he was holding out to her. Her face was ashen now, and he could tell that she was ready to give in to whatever he had in mind.
"Just exactly what do you want for these pictures, you bastard?"
"Well, baby, I'll tell you. I've been working on this ever since accidentally I happened onto your little poolside sex scene."
Brett walked over to the bar and poured a strong Scotch. He looked up at the picture on the wall and saluted it, draining his glass. He was enjoying this to the hilt.
"Andrea, baby, you're going to do exactly what I tell you. If you don't, I'll get copies of these made and give them to your husband-and to every one of those snotty bitches you socialize with. I want to make that perfectly clear, before I tell you what I want."
"I understand only too well, you son of a bitch."
"Good. Now, here's what you're going to do. First, you're going to tell Sharon to go get the gardener and take him up to your room. When they get there, you're going to tell them to sit down and watch. You'll tell them there's something you want them to see. Then I'll come in and you'll proceed to strip me, sink on your knees, and kiss my dick. And you'll stay there until I come. Do you understand?"
"I won't do it, you lousy bastard! Now get out of here!"
"Okay, baby, it's up to you. But by the time I'm through, your name will be mud in this city. We'll see how many social activities you and your husband are invited to then-that is, if you're still married to Bill after he gets a look at these."
"All right, Brett. You win. I don't have any choice. But please don't involve Sharon. I'll do anything you ask if you'll just leave her out of this."
"I've got news for you, Andrea. You'll do whatever I tell you to anyway, and I say Sharon is going to be there. She's going to watch you go down on me, and by the time we get through with our little game, she'll be hotter than hell. Besides, I think it'll do her good to see her successfully married aunt working on a stud; she might change a few of her Victorian ideas. We're going to loosen her up, Andrea."
"Why don't you leave her alone, Brett? She's too good for your kind, anyway. She deserves more out of life than a bastard like you."
"You just get her up there, and don't tell her why. I want her to think this is your idea, so don't tell her what's going on."
"You-won't fool her for a second, Brett. She knows I wouldn't voluntarily pull off a stunt like this."
"I don't give a damn what you think, you bitch! You just do what you're told. Now, tell me how to get up to your room."
"Go up the stairs you passed when we came in. My room is the third on the right at the top of the stairs."
"Okay. Now, you hurry and get them up there. I don't like to be kept waiting-especially not in this condition."
He laughed as she followed his gaze down the front of his body to the massive bulge inside his pants.
"I'm all ready for you, baby, see? We'll see if you can accomplish the same thing for me as you did for that stud yesterday. I'm willing to bet you'll choke trying."
Andrea turned and walked out the front door, moving like a zombie, her body reacting automatically to his commands.
Brett followed her directions and found her bed-room. Inside, he passed through the adjoining door and found himself in a bathroom. He closed the door and sat down to wait.
In a few minutes he heard them talking. He got up and opened the door. The look of surprise on Sharon's face made the whole thing worthwhile.
Wait 'til Andrea starts going down on me, he thought. Sharon's eyes will bug out of her head.
Andrea walked over to him and loosened his belt. She pulled his pants and shorts off, and knelt down. He turned her slightly so he could watch the reactions of the two other people. Sharon just sat there with her eyes and mouth wide open as Andrea leaned forward and started to move her mouth on Brett's erect penis.
The gardener broke out in a sweat and twitched uncomfortably. Christ, what a story he was going to have to tell his buddies at the local bar!
"Watch, Sharon baby. Watch and learn how a woman satisfies a man. Andrea isn't worried about staying true to your uncle. She likes sex too much, Sharon--likes her kicks too much to pass up what I have to offer."
Sharon just stared at the scene that was taking place in front of her. Brett turned slightly so that she could get a better view of what Andrea was accomplishing. There was saliva forming at the corner of the gardener's mouth as Brett thrust his ass forward, giving Andrea more hard flesh to work on. Brett's eyes remained on Sharon all the time, but she showed no immediate reaction.
What the hell is wrong with her? Is she made out of stone? She'd probably have to watch for a couple of days before she got good and hot. Well, I'll give her a good start, anyway. The picture of me and Andrea together this way is bound to stay in her mind for some time. Every time she thinks about it, she'll feel a little bit more like letting me give her some of the same. I won't rush her though; no sense in trying to make her before she's ready."
Brett put his hands on Andrea's head and let himself enjoy what she was doing. To him, it was all the better because she didn't want to do it. His body began to thrust at her again and again. As he was about to come, he pulled free and worked himself manually, hitting Andrea square in the face as his fluid discharged in continuous spasms.
When it was over she started to get up, but he held her down.
"Wait a minute. You want to do the gardener too, don't you, Andrea baby? Look at the poor guy, sitting over there all hot and bothered."
Andrea was past the point of arguing now, so humiliated that she was hardly conscious of what was going on. She made no objection when Brett held her head, just knelt there and didn't move. He wished he could make her more consious of what she was doing, because he wanted her to suffer as much as possible. But Andrea had cut it out of her mind; she was just a machine now.
Brett motioned to the sweating man. "Come here, you."
The gardener got up nervously and crossed over to them.
"Strip him, baby," Brett ordered.
Andrea reached up and undid the gardener's pants. She freed him from his underwear, and Brett saw that the man was just as he'd imagined. His rod was smaller, but just as ready as Brett's had been.
The gardener's face began to contort with passion as Andrea complied with Brett's order. His hands went to her head and pulled her to him. He started moving fast, and Andrea pulled her head away.
"Get back there, baby, and finish the job," Brett told her.
Her head returned, and she finished sucking the gardner off.
Brett pulled on his clothing, reached into his jacket pocket, brought out the white envelope and opened it. He tossed the photographs and negatives in the air and, they fell around Andrea's shuddering body.
"There you are, baby. Thanks for the show."
He walked out and left her to face Sharon and the quickly dressing gardener. Just as he was about to climb into the rag top, Sharon came running down the front steps toward him.
"Brett, wait!"
He turned and leaned back against the door of the car.
"What's wrong, baby? Did that warm you up? You want to come back out to the cabin with me again? I'll give you what we both need."
She stood there in front of him, her glaring eyes traveling down the length of his body.
"Brett, you're sick, really sick. Did you actually think that nasty little scene up there in Andrea's bedroom would make me want you?"
"Why not? It was pretty hot for a while, wasn't it? Don't tell me you aren't dying for a little bit, after watching the three of us enjoying ourselves."
"God, you're really out of your mind, Brett. What do you think I am? What you did up there was low and dirty. You forced her to do your bidding, and what did that accomplish for you? Nothing, as far as I can see. If she'd done it of her own free will, it would have been different. Whatever possessed you to make her do such a humiliating thing? What kind of a kick do you get out of a crazy scene like that? You're not well, Brett. You'd better go and find yourself a psychiatrist-and I mean in a hurry!"
He reached our for her, trying to grasp an arm; but she jumped back away from him, recoiling with revulsion, her eyes showing the disgust that filled her.
"C'mon, baby," he coaxed, "it was just a joke. I didn't hurt her. She'll get over it. Besides, that poor old bastard of a gardener will remember this day for the rest of his life."
"Keep away from me, Brett."
"You don't mean that, baby. You know you want what I can give you. Don't fight it. Let yourself live a little for a change."
"Don't you ever come near me again, Brett! We've had it! I never want to see you again, do you understand? Never! And that's final!"
"Okay, baby, whatever you say. But I think you'll change your mind."
"Oh, no, I won't. You mean nothing but trouble to anyone who tries' to be nice to you. Now get the hell out of here, and leave us alone!"
"I don't know what you're so shook up about. It was a good laugh. Besides, Andrea deserved everything she got-and more. I don't see why this should affect our relationship."
"Get out, Brett, and don't ever come back."
She turned her back on him and marched back to-ward the house. Her firm, lovely buttocks seemed to be mocking him as she moved.
Brett turned and leaned against the car. His arms stretched out on the top, and he let his head fall between them.
Christ, I've really blown it now, he thought. But what the hell else could I have done? I had to make Andrea pay for trading me in for another stud.
He'd failed to get Sharon though, and his mind would give him no peace until he could hold those firm butt-cheeks naked in his hands and make her beg. He knew this for sure.
His head started to ache, and he put his hands up, trying to stop the pain. He opened the car door and climbed in behind the wheel. The big convertible lurched ahead and sped out of the driveway.
Brett had to think things out; he had to find a place where he could sit down and think clearly.
He pulled into the first bar he found and parked the car. His head thudded unmercifully as he walked toward the door, and he threw his hands up to shade his eyes from the sun. It helped slightly, but he knew he had a lot of thinking to do before his mind would stop its pounding and let him rest in peace.
The first drink did nothing to relieve the fierce throbbing in his skull, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pill case containing some tranquilizers that an Air Force medic had given him just before his release. He ordered a second drink and washed one of the little green pills down with it.
God, these headaches were murder, he thought. He'd been having them off and on for about five years now, and he couldn't understand why. He'd never had one before then, that he could recall. The attacks weren't too frequent, but when they hit they were excruciating, and each one-seemed to be worse than the one that preceded it. They got so bad that they seemed to blank out his mind, making him completely useless.
He'd undergone six months of tests in the Air Force, but the medics hadn't been able to find anything organically wrong with him. They'd said the headaches were probably psychosomatic, something to do with his nerves.
He'd been in Germany when they'd first started checking him out. Some broad had called the M.P.'s one night to get him off her tail, and he'd passed out right in the wagon. He wasn't drunk and the M.P.'s knew, it, so when he flipped out like that it had scared the shit out of them. They'd taken him straight to the base hospital.
When Brett woke up the next morning with no memory of the previous night's events, he was scared shitless too. He'd blanked out a few times before, but only when he'd been plastered, and he was damn sure he'd been sober this time because he'd just gotten off duty when he started following the Krawt bitch.
So he'd told the doc the whole story about how long he'd been having the. headaches and all, and that was when they'd started running him through all those tests. They were still working on his case when his release date came up. The head medic had tried to talk him into staying in until they could find out exactly what was causing the attacks, but Brett had had enough of the Air Force by then.
Brett knew now that he'd have to go to a doctor soon, though, because he had only a few of the tranquilizers left, and he couldn't get any more without a prescription. He couldn't do without the pills, either, because if he didn't have any, the headaches would last for days before they finally subsided by themselves.
He couldn't fly a plane with one of those storms raging in his skull, and he knew that if the airline officials ever found out about them, he'd get canned in a hurry. He'd told them nothing about his condition when they'd interviewed him, or he probably wouldn't have been hired at all.
The headache was going away slowly now-the little green pill had done its job well. He ordered another drink and started to enjoy the warm glow the Scotch was sending through his body.
He spent the next two hours in the bar, drinking slowly and letting his mind work on the problem of finding a way to get Sharon. She had used him badly, and now he would have to make her pay, just like all the rest. It would have been easier for him to get to her if she'd been willing to see him again; now it would be hard, yes-but not impossible.
When he walked out of the bar, he had the answer. He knew now what had to be done, and his headache was almost gone.
He drove to the bank where he dealt, and withdrew all the cash from his account. He hated the thought of leaving' this town, but there would be nothing but trouble for him here when he finished what he had in mind. He'd just ask the airline for a transfer to the East Coast, pack up, and drive out. Everything seemed to be falling apart for him here, anyway.
Brett drove his car into a service station and asked them to give his car a grease job and oil change. He would want to leave fast when the time came, so everything had to be ready.
The only thing he would be sorry to leave was Marion. He'd been happy with her, and he'd enjoyed taking the risk involved in making it with supposedly off-limits stuff. Oh, well, she'd just have to get her jollies somewhere else from now on. Sure, she would be sorry to see him go, but he wouldn't let that stop him from leaving.
He'd tell her he was tired of her, and see what kind of a reaction that got. He laughed happily, anticipating satisfaction of dropping one more panting bitch. She'd probably rape the mail man or the paper boy a week after he'd gone.
Brett looked at his watch. Three twenty-five. He still had time to get back and have a tumble with Marion before Don got home from work. He knew it would make him feel a lot better to hold her trembling body in his arms. He'd use her once more before letting her go.
He paid the service station attendant and climbed into his car. If he hurried, he might have time for more than one round with her.
His body was reacting now, and he could feel the pants and shorts tightening over the growing mass of flesh in his lap. It was really going to feel good-just the thought that he would be dropping her after he was finished this time would make the whole thing twice as good as it would have been otherwise.
His foot pushed farther on the gas pedal, urging the car ahead. His mind was dwelling on one thing now, and that one thing alone. He was oblivious to the passing traffic. He could smell and taste the pleasure he was about to receive.
God, he hoped she was home. He'd crawl right up the wall if she wasn't there.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brett parked the convertible in the car-port and vaulted over the top of the door. He climbed the stairs to the back door two at a time.
Marion wasn't in the kitchen, so he walked into the living room and looked around. It was empty too.
Christ, no! She's not home! Damn it, anyway! he swore.
He was about to go back out the door when he heard the shower running. He heaved a sigh of relief and laughed inwardly.
Man, this is great. She's in the shower. I won't even have to bother stripping the clothes off her beauti-full frame.
He began undoing his shirt as he walked down the hall. He threw it on the floor, and his hands opened the clasp at his waist. He yanked the zipper down impatiently and stripped the pants off his legs. His underwear followed close behind.
His body now nude, he reached for the door handle. It was locked.
"Marion, baby, it's Brett," he called. "Open up and let me in."
She didn't answer. The water was still running, and he figured she probably couldn't hear him over the noise. He tried again, shouting louder, but she still didn't open the door.
Brett went back down the hall, picked up his shirt, and took out his pen. He returned to the bathroom door, opened the pen, took out the refill, and inserted it into the hole in the center of the doorknob. He pushed, and heard the click as the lock released; then turned the knob and opened the door.
She had her back to him, and the sight of her firm, jutting buttocks sent a shiver of anticipation through his body. He stood in the doorway, his penis erect and throbbing, obviously ready for her.
The blast of cold air caused Marion to turn, and she saw him.
"What do you think you're doing? Get the hell out of here."
Brett froze in his tracks, halfway across the room, just getting ready to reach for the swollen breasts with their nipples made hard by the shower spray. Had he heard right?
"Don't just stand there. Get out of here, you stupid bastard!"
This second unexpected outburst from Marion turned the trick. His rod shrank as he stood there, hands still poised to grab those luscious tits. He turned, went out the door, and shut it behind him. Then he leaned back against it, his mind awhirl with confusion.
What the hell had he done to make her act that way? His mind shot back over the past few days. True, he hadn't screwed her for a couple of days, but that should make her more eager for him, if anything. He thought harder, trying to find a reason that would justify Marion's actions. He couldn't think of anything he'd done to turn her off.
Brett crossed into the living room, still nude, and sat down. He'd absently picked up his smokes on the way down the hall, and he lit one now, sucking in deeply.
He decided he'd just have to wait until she came out and find out what her bitch was.
Christ, she looked good in there, he thought. Her big boobs had dripped tiny droplets of water on to the floor as they stuck out past the rim of the tub, the hard nipples throbbing slightly after being excited by the pounding of the water. He felt his tool growing again and began to get impatient.
If she didn't come out soon, he decided, he was going back in there, and he wouldn't leave empty-handed this time. Beth hands would be full of solid, round buttocks.
The shower went off, and he heard her stepping out of the tub. He imagined her drying herself and wished he could be there, helping her. His fingers longed to close on those pert nipples and squeeze them gently.
Marion came out dressed in a robe. She looked at his nude form and went back down the hall.
"Hey, where are you going, baby?"
Brett started to stand up but she returned before he could fellow her. She threw his clothes across the living room, and they landed at his feet.
"Put these on. I've got something to tell you, and I'm not going to do it with your dingus sticking out like that."
She turned and walked out of the room. She'd caught him off guard, and although he didn't like it, he found himself on the defensive. He couldn't for the life of him think of what was bugging her, but he wasn't going to take any chances on making it worse when she was in this kind of mood. It was as though she'd just been handed some kind of power over him.
He picked up his clothes and started to pull them on. Her last comment had finished him off again, and he was beginning to feel like a yo-yo-up and down and up and down. He dressed automatically, still dazed by her words.
When she returned, she was dressed too. There was no bra under her blouse, and Brett could still see the half-taut nipples. She walked past him to the couch and sat' down. He remained silent, waiting for her to explain what the hell was going on. Marion reached into her purse and pulled out a cigarette. When she'd lit it, she looked up at him.
"You know that I went to the doctor today?"
"Yeah, that's what the note said. So what?"
"I'm pregnant, Brett."
"Oh, is that all? Christ, I thought I'd done something that pissed you off." He stood up and started across the room toward her.
"Sit down, Brett!"
He stopped and looked at her, puzzled again. "Look, baby, I'm getting pretty damn sick of this. What the hell are you trying to pull?"
"Sit down, and I'll tell you. Just get your mind off sex for five minutes, and give me a chance.".
He returned to the chair and slouched his muscled body into the sofa cushions.
"Okay, baby. I'm all ears. Shoot."
"Do you remember what I told you the first time, Brett?"
"You said several things, honey, and they all meant that you wanted more. In fact, you wanted all I could give you, if I remember correctly."
"That's not what I mean, you egotistical bastard. I told you I was letting you have me because I wanted to get pregnant. Well, now I'm pregnant, Brett. That means you and I are through."
"Oh, come off it, baby, you don't really expect me to buy that. I suppose you'll tell me next that you didn't enjoy it one little bit. Who the hell are you trying to kid? You lapped it up literally, as a matter-of-fact. You loved every minute of it, and were always begging for more."
"Yes, Brett, I'll admit that. I liked it, all right.
In fact, I really enjoyed it. But it's all over now."
"Just like that, eh, baby? You and I both know you'll be begging for it in a few days. They say most broads up the stump crave it even more than usual, and usual for you was at least twice a day. You won't last for twenty-four hours without me."
"I won't need you any more, Brett. Don will give me all I want now. The only reason he wouldn't before is because he was afraid I'd let myself get pregnant. Don's not queer, you know, Brett; he likes it just as much as the next guy. And what he doesn't know about making love, I can teach him, thanks to you."
"That's a laugh. He wasn't even potent enough to get you pregnant. You had to come to good old Brett to get knocked up. Come on, baby, you know damn well I'm better than he'll ever be. You want what I've got, doll, and we both know it."
"Yes, you're better than he is, and bigger, but that doesn't mean so much any more. I've got more important things to worry about than my own thrills. I'm going to have a baby soon, Brett, and I want that child to grow up in a clean, respectable atmosphere."
"Oh, yeah, baby, definitely see to it that your bastard kid grows up in the proper surroundings. Christ, that's a laugh. He'll probably be a dead ringer for his old man, and Don will kick you out on that pretty ass that so recently bounced under my body."
"I hope the baby does look like his daddy, Brett. In fact, I hope he's a dead ringer for his father. Why shouldn't I? It's not yours, Brett-it's Don's."
"Oh, sure, baby. Tell me more. You don't even know whose it is. It probably belongs to the milkman. But one thing's sure, it doesn't belong to the only man you should have been putting out for. Christ, he almost had to stand in line to get it into you."
"That remark wasn't fair, Brett. I've never cheated on Don with anyone but you. You're calling me a tramp, and I am, but it was only with you. And now I wish that affair had never happened, more than anything else in the world. But it did, so I'm going to make the best of it. I'm going to put an end to it now, while I still have some self-respect, and someday I'll tell Don."
"Yeah, you tell him his kid was sired by his old buddy, Brett Hansen. That should make him feel real good."
"It's not yours, Brett. It couldn't possibly be. We've only been making it together for a little over six weeks, and my doctor says I'm more than two months along now. So you see, it has to be Don's. That's why I can stop using you now and still hang onto my self-respect-because I'm carrying my husband's baby."
"I'm going to enjoy hearing you try to convince him of that when I get through with him. When he knows you've been screwing around with me, do you think he'll believe you when you tell him it's got to be his? Especially when I tell him that you hit the sack with me the first day I moved into the house. Sure, doll, I'll be the one who's lying, but who will Don believe?"
"I'll just have to take that chance, Brett. I talked to Don today, and he'll be asking you to leave here tonight."
"What did you tell him, honey? I'll bet it wasn't the truth."
"No, I just told him I wanted the house to myself now that I was pregnant."
"Was he happy with your news, baby?"
"Yes, Brett. He wants the baby as much as I do now. I told you he would-the first time, remember?"
Brett stood up and walked toward the door. He turned and stared at her for a second.
"You dirty slut, you're nothing but awhoringbitch! I'll make you wish you'dnever heard of Brett Hansen!"
"I wish that already, Brett."
He slammed the door behind him, got in his car and tore out of the driveway, tires screaming on the hot pavement as he headed for the nearest bar. His headache had come back, only it was worse now-Marion had used him too, and now she was throwing him out, just like the garbage!
He found a bar and pulled in. He ordered his second Scotch before the first one was finished. He stayed in the bar until nine-thirty, and could barely drive back.
He hit the side of the carport as he wheeled the convertible into the narrow area. He got out half-crawled to the stairs and started to climb. He was going to tell Don the whole story. Christ, would Marion be sorry she'd done this to him!
Brett slipped on the fourth stair and fell, then felt too dizzy to get up. He was still there when Don found him, an hour later.
Don called Marion and asked her to give him a hand. After they got him into his room and put him to bed, Don said, "Poor old Brett really tied one on, Marion. He can hold a lot before he passes out Cold like this. God, he's going to have one hell of a head tomorrow."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brett spent a restless night. when he awoke, the last thing he could remember was ordering his sixth Scotch at the bar. He rolled over onto his side and glanced at the clock. The luminous green hands showed 6:30. It was still dark, but Brett knew it was useless to try to sleep.
It was happening to him again. The broads had used him and were going to drop him, just like that girl he'd loved so long ago. He'd forced her name out of his mind years before, but he could never forget what she'd done to him, as long as he lived.
Brett had known her for a year. They had become engaged, and he had happily spent all his savings entertaining her. He had spent eight months and most of every paycheck building a small cabin in the mountains as a love nest for them to honeymoon in, and to use after their marriage for a place to spend their vacations.
Brett tried to push the memories out of his mind, but suddenly he was reliving it all again.
That Friday night so long ago, his boss had let him off work early, and he'd gone up to the cabin to do some last minute finishing work on the interior.
He was happy that he had the chance to get the work finished earlier than expected, and was only mildly surprised to find his best friend's car parked in front of the cabin when he arrived. Mike had probably been looking for him, and figured he'd be going up to the cabin a little later, anyway.
He found three of them there-his two closest friends and his fiancee. They hadn't heard his car pull up, but that was understandable, with the record player going full blast. Besides, they were all very busy in the big bed he'd built with his own hands to use the night he consummated his marriage. She was taking them both on at once, and obviously enjoying every second of it.
Brett turned his back on them, walked out of the cabin, and closed the door quietly behind him. He threw up before he could reach the car. He didn't even see the road on the way back to town; he simply drove like a robot, making automatic adjustments to the curving white line.
That dark, lonely night, driving in the light spring rain, Brett mentally shaped his future. He would get even with the whole female sex; he hated them all. He'd make sure he gave them nothing lasting, and would take as many of them for a joy-ride as he could. This plan, and this alone, allowed Brett to goon acting like an apparently normal human being. It kept him from crying and breaking up over the loss of the one girl he had truly loved; but he never realized that it also twisted his mind and made him a man without compassion.
From that moment on, he had to come out on top of every affair. If he ever let any woman win, part of him would die each time.
His brain had been reminding him of this fact all night; it wouldn't let him rest until he heeded its command: Make them pay. Show them they can't drop Brett Hansen and laugh about it. Hurt them all!
He vaulted out of the bed and crossed quietly to the closet, where he pulled his clothes and suitcases out and began to pack. It was time to leave.
Marion was a heavy sleeper, but he was careful not to awaken her, anyway. He couldn't face her now, not while she was still on top.
Brett smiled broadly, moving over to the desk. Now he had it-a way to get even with Marion. He'd destroy what she'd used him to get. He'd go even further-he'd destroy her secure little world altogether.
He carefully wrote his malicious note, chuckling inwardly at the thoughts which flowed onto the paper. He quietly mumbled to himself, "Bitch ... bitch ... bitch ... bitch...."
Brett sealed the envelope and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. On his way out of town he'd stop at the store where Don worked and leave the letter for Don. In it, he'd explained in great detail all that he and Marion had done in their lovemaking-claiming it had been going on for the past three months. He also claimed that the unborn baby was his, and truthfully stated that Marion had begged him to make her pregnant.
That'll fix her, he thought happily, as he carried his suitcases to the car.
He drove fast on the way to the Simpsons'. He had one last thing to do before he left.
He went through the gate and followed the now-familiar path to the pool, knowing that Sharon would be out there taking her usual early-morning swim.
Brett hung his clothes on a hanger in the bath house, but didn't bother to put on a suit. It would just be excess baggage, with what he had in mind.
When he entered the pool enclosure, Sharon was lying face down in the center of the float. She was half asleep, and didn't notice him as he slipped into the water and noiselessly swam toward her.
She stirred and looked at him when she felt the pressure of his elbows on the float. She could only see him from the shoulders up as he stared at her, grinning.
"Brett! I told you I didn't want to see you again! I've made up my mind to go back to Jim and get married, so why don't you just leave me alone?"
"I'm leaving, baby, but before I go, I've got something I want to give you."
She softened and smiled at him.
"That's nice of you, Brett, but I couldn't take anything from you."
"Why not? That's all you've done up until now. Take, take, take-that's all any of you broads know how to do. But I insist this time, baby. You're going to get it whether you want it or not."
He pulled himself up on the float slowly and knelt in front of her, his massive rod staring her right in the face, and she recoiled with shock. His huge cock almost bridged the gap between them, dripping droplets of water that glistened brightly in the sunlight as they fell to the float and rolled toward the valley between her breasts.
"I would have given it to you sooner, in a more natural way, but you had to play hard to get. So now you get it the way you deserve." He grasped his tool and moved his hand slowly toward her.
"All for you, baby."
"No, Brett! I meant what I said!"
"No broad is ever going to make a fool of me again," he cried viciously. Then he grabbed her shoulders, swung himself around, and pinned her under his weight.
Sharon could barely breathe with the weight of his body forcing her face into the float. She tried to scream, but it came out a muffled whimper.
Brett tucked his fingers under the band of her bikini top and pulled. The material tore, and Sharon moaned in agony as it bit into her soft flesh.
He forced his hands under her and grasped her breasts roughly, pinching her nipples and tearing at the soft flesh with his nails. Sharon twisted and tried to get away from him, but he had her imprisoned under him.
He ran one hand down her side until he found the material of her bikini bottom. With a ripping sound, that, too, cut into her flesh, then came away. She was as nude as he now, and he lifted his weight off her body.
She got her knees under her, turned, and clawed at his face and chest, valiantly trying to fight him off. Brett laughed and smashed his fist into her face-once, twice, again and again.
He would win, he would come out on top. No broad would ever take him for a ride again!
Sharon took six of the hammer-like blows before she stopped trying to resist. It was no use. She let unconsciousness slip over her, and fell face-down onto the float.
Brett spread her legs and knelt between them. He placed his hands on her shoulder blades as his rod came into contact with her soft butt-cheeks. He found the strange target with no difficulty, but had to guide his tool with his hand to get it in good.
Once started, he thrust with all his might. Even in her unconscious state, Sharon's face contorted and she winced with pain. He moved his hands down her back and reached around under her smooth belly, pulling the firm, resilient mounds of her buttocks up to his pounding loins. He grunted and rutted, receiving the greatest sexual pleasure possible because he was master now, he was degrading her. He had won in the end.
It was true-he would get the best of any bitch in the world if he wanted to!
He smashed himself down on her luscious body again and again, venting his sick lust. Finally he finished and fell beside her, panting and gasping for air.
He'd gotten even with them all now-he could rest.
He heaved himself off Sharon's bruised flesh and rolled into the pool. The water felt good, and his body tingled all over. He was on top of the world again. He'd shown that cold, hard-assed bitch. He'd shown her how vulnerable her ass really was!
He untied the float from the fountain and pushed it toward the edge of the pool, where he tied it to a ladder. Then he climbed out and dried himself with Sharon's towel.
The girl's body was perfectly limp as Brett rolled her onto the hot cement. She flopped onto her back, her bruised face turned up to him blankly.
He studied the face and a sadistic smile formed on his lips. Her features seemed to be changing now, and suddenly it wasn't Sharon's face that looked up toward him. No, the girl he'd just humiliated and degraded was the girl who'd been haunting him for five years, and he'd just evened the score for the blow she'd dealt him when she'd tumbled with his two best friends.
He hadn't been able to hurt her then because he'd loved her too deeply; but now, finally the score was even. Sharon had been important to him because she was so much like that girl from long ago, but Sharon hadn't cheated on her fiance. She hadn't voluntarily let Brett have his way with her. His girl had cheated and the only way that Brett could accept that, without feeling personally insulted, was to believe that all women were the same. He'd had to make Sharon unfaithful to her fiance.
The inert face in front of him began to change again. As he watched, the face of every broad he'd had in the past five years flashed by. He'd given them all what they deserved-all of them.
He laughed out loud as he recognized each of the different women-every one of them had done his bidding. They'd given their bodies to him, when they were supposed to belong to someone else. All of them had cheated.
Any man who worked to give a woman a home and security was out of his mind. All the bitches were interested in was a good lay, and they'd spread their legs for him eagerly while their dumb-ass husbands were out earning the money. Hell, most of them would have gone to bed with the milkman or some door-to-door salesman. It didn't matter to them, as long as they got their kicks.
Well, he'd shown them. Brett Hansen had been taken once, but he'd learned his lesson fast. That was one mistake he'd never make again. Now he was the one who called the shots, he was the one who used their bodies. He always got more than he gave, yet the bitches were always happy to get what he had to offer them.
At first he hadn't been too sure, but as he tried to seduce each woman who was married or otherwise attached, he'd found that he succeeded with little or no real effort. He had given them more than a fair chance. He hadn't judged them on that first girl, although that judgment would have been correct.
He'd conducted his survey scientifically, trying women from different walks of life, women with different interests. But time after time he'd proved his theory by dropping their pants and crawling into bed with them. There was no doubt in his mind now. Any woman could be had, regardless of her attachment to another man.
Yes, they were all the same. Give them a chance to climb into bed with another man, and they'd jump at it. There was only one way to have a relationship with a woman. Brett had proved it again and again, over the last five years. Use their bodies until you were fed up with the same old stuff, then drop them hard, and let them see what they really were. Pigs! Whores! All of them! Not one worth the love and devotion that a man could offer them.
Brett had one more thing to do, here. He grasped his rod, moved into position and let go-relieving himself on Sharon's naked, inert body. He laughed as he carefully sprayed the entire length of the battered, unmoving form. This was the ultimate act of degradation-Brett Hansen's demonstrating how little he thought of all women.
When he'd finished, Brett strutted over to the bar triumphantly, feeling no sexual urge at all as he cast one last glance at her nude, defiled body. He was satisfied, something that had rarely occurred in his life. He poured himself a tall Scotch and drank it leisurely while walking to the bathhouse, enjoying the strong liquor almost sensually.
He dressed slowly, admiring his reflection in the mirror. He took one last look at the luxury around him, then walked out the door.
Andrea rounded the curve at the top of the hill just as he was approaching it.
"You bastard! What are you doing here?" she spat at him.
"I had a loose end to tie up, Andrea baby."
"Get the hell out of here before I call the police!" she screamed at him.
"What are you complaining about? You had your fun. I just made you pay for it. You didn't enjoy that, did you? No, you wanted to have a good time with me, but you didn't give a shit about my feelings. You were going to drop me anyway, after I showed you my kind of love. I wasn't good enough for you, huh? You wanted a new stud to play with. Well, Andrea, now you know-no broad ever drops Brett Hansen and gets away with it! What's wrong? Did it bug you to have to do exactly as you were told? Did it hurt to have Sharon see you for what you really are? I hope so! You deserved it, you bitch!" he laughed as he moved past her toward the gate.
"My God! He's killed her! Help! Police!"
Once she had calmed down and realized she could feel a trace of life in Sharon's body, Andrea ran to the phone on the bar. She phoned the family doctor first; then, with a look of sadistic pleasure, she started to call the police. But she stopped dialing halfway through the number, and returned the phone to its cradle.
No, she thought, the scandal would ruin everything we've built up. The bastard's not worth it.
The doctor came quickly, and quieted Andrea with a tranquilizer after he had treated Sharon.
"Nothing much to worry about, Mrs. Simpson," he told her. "Slight shock and a few bruises. How did it happen?"
Andrea had put a bathing suit on Sharon and had cleaned her up as best she could before the doctor had arrived. He might not have believed her story, but she'd paid him enough to pretend he did.
"She fell from the diving board and hit the edge of the pool."
The doctor put his instruments away and walked out to the bathhouse with Andrea.
"See that she gets plenty of rest for the next few days. She'll be fine in a day or two, except for the bruises, and they'll heal in time."
Andrea returned to Sharon just as she opened her eyes.
"Andrea," she murmured, "I guess Brett doesn't even realize that this just makes me all the more sure that I want to be married to that wonderful guy back East. Brett's sick, so sick I feel sorry for him. I can't even hate him."
She fell asleep quickly with the help of the shot the doctor had given her. Andrea turned and left her to rest in the warm sun.
The scream brought Brett to his senses. His first thought was: She's going to call the police. They'll be after me. I couldn't stand to be locked up.
He was scared now, more afraid than he'd ever been before in his life.
He ran to the car, clawed at the door handle, and fumblingly got the big car into action. He careened out of the driveway, throwing a spray of rocks across the steps at the front of the house.
The convertible shot out onto the road, tires squealing, and narrowly missed colliding with a yellow station wagon, which was forced off the road. It jumped the curb and smashed into a utility pole, crunching to a halt. Brett glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the driver jump out and copy down his license number.
What's the difference? he thought. They're after me for murder, anyway.
He pushed the gas pedal to the floor, and the huge motor lifted the car's front end as he charged out onto the freeway.
Brett didn't notice the black and white patrol car in another lane as he passed the line of traffic. The patrolmen saw him, though, and pulled out of the slower moving lane in pursuit of the speeding convertible.
Brett saw them then, and thought, They know. They're after me for killing Sharon.
He tried to push the gas pedal farther, but it was down as far as it would go.
The flashing red light was getting closer every second. Brett's powerful convertible was no match for the hopped-up pursuit car that was racing after him.
The road in front of Brett curved, and halfway around he saw a turn off into a side road. As he wheeled the big car onto the exit ramp, his rear end spun out and sent him down the road sideways.
The patrol car squealed to a stop twenty feet behind his stalled car, and the two officers got out.
Brett felt himself panicking. I can't let those lousy broads win! I can't! he wailed silently.
The scene at his cabin so long ago came back to Brett full force now, blocking everything else out of his mind.
Mike and John were in bed with her. They were both getting the loving they wanted-and his girl was giving it to them.
All the nights he and she had spent together flashed before him now, all the plans they had made while parked in his car in their own special spot. They'd gone there nearly every night, and on the weekends she'd packed a lunch for them and they'd left the car and picnicked by the little stream that wound its way through the trees. She'd been everything to him; he'd spent all he had on her, more than willingly.
He remembered the day she had agreed to swim nude with him in the little pool that formed as the stream changed course. They'd always picnicked beside it, and both of them had wanted to swim in it before. She had undressed modestly behind some bushes, while he stripped in the open. Before he could turn and see the beautiful body that he'd only caressed in the dark car, she'd run past him and submerged in the stream with a happy laugh.
Brett had joined her, self-conscious about his own nakedness, and they'd swum together, enjoying the freedom afforded by the area's seclusion. Their pleasure had been heightened because they knew they were doing something daring-even illegal-but they were too much in love to care.
Afterward, he'd dried her luscious body, then dried himself while she was dressing. He was fully aroused by the sight of her splendid beauty, but he respected her too much to take advantage of her love for him. She had been willing to snuggle up to his warm, hard-muscled body, but once again he'd turned from her, determined to keep her pure until their wedding night.
After that first time, there had been many more nude swims, and although he'd nearly gone crazy with desire for her, he'd held himself in check.
Then they'd begun to spend nights at the cabin together while they were working on it. Although they slept together in a sleeping bag and indulged in some heavy petting, Bretty hadn't allowed it to go any further.
Yes, he'd kept her pure-pure for Mike and John. The dirty little pig had given them what they all knew was rightfully his. She had made a real fool of him.
Now he started the big motor and threw the convertible into reverse.
"Don't you understand? They can't win now!" he screamed, as he dropped the car into drive and floored it.
Both patrolmen reached for their guns as the car hurtled toward them, tires smoking on the hot pavement.
"Shoot, Jim!" one of them yelled. "The crazy bastard's trying to run us down!"
Both revolvers spat at the driver's side of the tinted windshield. The glass shattered, and three bullet holes appeared.
The car continued forward for about six feet, then veered sharply to the left. It struck the patrol car, glanced off it, and finally came to rest against a rock.
The patrolman closest to the convertible raced toward Brett, his gun poised.
It wasn't necessary-Brett was dead. There were two bullet holes in his head, and the letter in his shirt pocket was glued to his body by the blood spurting from a hole in its center.
"Christ! All we wanted to do was give him a speeding ticket," murmured one of the policemen.
The other officer shook his head and walked back to his damaged car to report the incident.
