John Hallman rubbed the chalk against his cuetip and eyed the pool table. It was going to be a good night.
"You shooting for the new couple across the street?" Beth Hallman glanced leisurely at her naked husband as he prepared the cue for a shot.
"I think they're a good target," he said, leaning over the table and aiming at the cue ball. He slid the ornately carved pool stick expertly through his bridged index finger.
"What makes you think they'll swing?" Beth asked, dipping her fingers into the martini glass to retrieve the green olive with its vulgar red pimento innards dangling from it like an extended clitoris.
"Did you ever meet a woman I couldn't get to swing, or a man you couldn't turn on with a swish of your naked ass?"
"We are beautiful, aren't we," Beth said spreading her naked legs and rubbing her V tenderly as she sipped the martini.
"Beautifully ugly."
Beth watched her husband's muscular, hairy body as he stalked the table, brushing pieces of lint from the soft green top. He picked up the triangular rack and shuffled the balls into place, plucking one from here and putting it there, repeating the shift in another spot.
The sounds of the balls clicking together as John fondled them into place excited her. She shut her eyes and let her hand rest on her breast. Moving it in slow, circular motions, she felt the nipple harden like a marble under her palm.
Squeak.
In her mind she could see the balls lined in a V. John was standing at the opposite end of the table, his banana-shaped penis swaying as he crouched for the break shot. His breathing was heavy and a stillness settled over the room.
SMACK-plunk.
"What did you get?"
"Sixty-nine, that's what I shot for."
Beth let a scythelike smile curve across her flushed face. She could feel her skin tingling with excitement at the thought of John's lips nibbling at her vagina.
"Shoot again for afterwards," she cooed, letting her hand massage the inside of her thigh. "Shoot for dog fashion."
She shook her long, auburn hair and listened for the squeak of the cuetip against the chalk. She cringed and shivered as she heard the noise. Her hand began to slide up and down her slit in long, even motions as she waited for the clack of balls to signal John's next shot.
"Dog fashion, coming up." She glanced over and watched her husband aiming down the long, tapered cue. She let her eyes measure his muscular forearms, his tensed biceps, his hairy, defined chest. She let her blue eyes lock on his deep-set brown eyes with their heavy, busy black eyebrows. She noticed his tense, scrunched forehead as he concentrated on the shot. She saw his muscular jaw clamp shut and the single dimple punctuate his concern for making the shot.
SMACK-plunk.
"Dog fashion," he said, straightening and letting the cue rest against his naked side. He turned toward her and she let her gaze drop to his groin to admire his hard, rippling stomach and eight-inch penis which hung invitingly between his hairy, thick legs.
"I don't know why you want other women when I'm all you can take care of," she said softly, letting her tongue flick out against her lips.
"Maybe because I know you like the men I bring along with the women," he said, putting the cue back in the rack.
"Bring me the balls," Beth said huskily as she squirmed on the sofa. "Let me see what I've earned tonight."
She watched John's graceful, masculine motions as he gathered the two balls he had sunk and moved toward her with one in each hand. She felt the couch sagging under his weight as he settled beside her, letting his naked thighs rest against her side.
"Regalo, " he said, handing her the two pool balls.
She raised them and turned them until the figures were visible. The ivory-colored ball in her left hand was painted with two figures going down on each other. She focused on the artwork. It was perfection and had cost John a fortune to have painted by Mashimoto, one of Japan's most well-known silk-screen artists. The figures were so lifelike they sent chills up her spine just looking at them. She could see the man's mouth locked on the woman's vagina, and see his penis being sucked deeply into her mouth. It were as if the balls were small worlds, containing only those two persons in their erotic wonderland. Beth squeezed the ball and shut her eyes, imagining what it would be like in just a moment when John was down on her, licking and lapping and sucking at her as no other man had ever been able to do.
Resting the one ball on her stomach, Beth studied the other from a distance. The detailed painting depicted a woman, on her hands and knees like a dog, with a man positioned behind her, thrusting his penis deeply into her. The woman was looking back over her shoulder, a mask of apprehensive joy on her face. Just looking at the picture made Beth quiver. For a moment, she forgot about her husband's nearness, about the desire she had to satisfy him. All she could think of were the other thirteen balls and their respective drawings. Each one meant something special to her, for she had performed the fifteen different sexual acts over and over again - whenever John felt like it. And she had always helped him to get the other couples down here, talking them into a game - an innocent pool game that ended up with the guests as the eight ball.
"Ummm." Beth felt John's tongue as it licked up the slender curve of her neck. His tongue was smooth, practiced, urgent.
"Ummmm," she replied, setting the balls carefully on the floor and snaking her arms around her husband's neck. "Why do you turn me on so?"
"Because I play pool naked. What else would turn a woman like you on?" He brushed her lips with his chin as she felt his right hand creep up her side and press at the edges of her breast. He never dived into sex like a thirsty maniac; he was perpetually slow, savoring every moment of the foreplay. His hands were commanding as they played up the firm, round underside of her breast. He let his fingers squeeze toward the nipple in smaller and smaller circles until he had the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He rolled the thumb-shaped peak until it was stiff and a deep, dark brown.
"Do you think that young thing across the street has nipples like mine?" Beth's voice was ragged, but she liked nothing more than teasing him when he was getting hot -it made him hotter.
"Nipples. Who has nipples like yours, Beth? Who?" He reached out and caught her nipple in his teeth and shook his head back and forth. He sucked in the distended tip and laved it with his tongue while his hand caressed the fork of her thighs.
"Does she have a nice ass?"
"Nice, innocent, but not like yours, baby." He let his hands slip under her cheeks and pinched the loose flesh. Beth squealed and shoved herself at him.
"Did it look virgin?"
"Her ass?"
"Yes."
"It looked good, Beth. It looked virgin."
"You're rotten," Beth said, scratching his testicles and sucking at his masculine nipple. "You're really rotten."
"No more than my own little bitch," he said, jabbing her in the ass with his thumb until she squealed. She ground on the thumb until he felt it slip up into her.
"What's the prick like?" she grunted, pulling him near her and wiggling her tits into his chest.
"Looks weak. You know. The pasty kind of guys who always screw with their socks on and only come once a week. You won't have any trouble with him, Beth. You never have any trouble. Do you?"
"Only trying to satisfy you," she purred as she felt his teasing thumb slip out of her rectum.
"Did you have anything planned especially for your new targets?" John asked, pushing back a dangling strand of Beth's auburn hair.
"The usual. Maybe the big B. I liked it last time."
"But they didn't stick around to enjoy the payoff," John said, rubbing the cheeks of her ass vigorously. "I spent all that time and energy and they ended up just like a couple of dogs in heat."
"I know," Beth said sadly, heaving her voluptuous chest and feeling her hardened nipples drive into his chest. "I really had hopes for them. They were so cute and young...."
"Tut, tut, don't cry over spilled -"
"Cum?"
"You're getting rotten, wife, really rotten."
"Foul, filthy, shitty, stinky-cunt me," Beth laughed and scissored John's waist with her thighs. "Now, are you game for putting it to our friendly little pair moving in across the street?" she said, grinding her vagina into his groin.
"Have I ever failed to keep our little swap box full of tasty little morsels?" John laughed, slapping her on the buttocks and curling his lips back. "They're yours, honey," he said defiantly. "Take them."
"You lecher," Beth said, playfully swatting at his face. "I bet you'd eat little girls in the park if you thought you could get away with it."
"What makes you think I haven't already?" He glared down at her, cocking one eye, twitching his nostrils.
"Because I haven't been out sucking little boys. Remember we married each other because we were both as corrupt as the other."
John laughed. The worried lines in his forehead smoothed. His hands began to trace the length of Beth's thigh, stopping at her V to tickle the slit until it dripped.
Beth's hands rubbed his hairy legs. She reached down and grabbed his half-stiff cock and began pulling it back and forth until it was completely erect.
"Ummm. I'd like some of that now. Some all of it."
"You'll get it, baby. But after we follow the rules. The balls said sixty-nine and dog fashion."
John leaned back and Beth's legs scissored up around his head. He felt her soft, warm thighs squeezing his temples as he whiffed the pungent, exciting odor of her juicy slit. Rolling over on top of him, she ground her pelvis down, hunching it against his chin until she felt his probing tongue jabbing into her.
She nuzzled into his crotch, running her slender fingers through his crisp, crinkly pubic hairs. Giggling, Beth lifted his balls and dropped them, enjoying the slapping sound they made as they bounced against his ass. She giggled again and grabbed his cock in both hands. Jacking it up and down, she began to hum a rhythmic tune to her beats, matching her tempo to that of John's tongue as it beat in and out of her vagina like a lizard's tongue. Her joyful thrusts became more and more serious as John's tongue lanced in deeply, banging the clitoris, nipping at it, smashing it.
Beth lowered her head over the top of John's stiff cock. She had her jaws wide open and once the head was centered, she clomped down, jabbing at the cock-slit with her small, spear-tipped tongue and sucking wildly. His rod filled her mouth and his balls slapped up under her chin as he humped into her. She could hear him sucking and slurping and blowing at her orifice as she did the same at his. One of her hands slipped through his legs and she began to touch his asshole tenderly with her fingertip. As his tongue jabs became more intense, she pushed her finger into the opening, feeling the tight tissues envelop it, suck at it. They were humping wildly, making loud suckling noises.
Beth tensed as the shudder began to grip her. It was a long, interminable feeling that started at her brain and quaked down through every part of her until it seemed to splash out her vagina to be sucked up by his mouth. It came. The same exciting feeling as always and Beth screamed as she jabbed the finger deeply into his ass.
John's orgasm was nearing too. He thrust wildly at the woman, driving his cock as far into her as he could. She was whimpering, signaling the beginning of her climax.
John squeezed his eyes shut and thought of the new couple across the street. He thought of the wife's beautiful ass, the ass that had commanded his attention from the first moment. Oooh, he thought, as he felt the semen creeping out toward Beth, I can just taste those thighs, smell that pussy, feel that ass. Ummm. He rammed at Beth's mouth, feeling her suck him deep into her. He leaned back, reared his head, and, snorting like a bull, clutched her breasts in his hands and howled. He howled until every ounce of jism spurted into her.
Nibbling at his ear, her body wet with perspiration, Beth began to stroke his thigh and buttocks. She wondered if the man across the street would be as hairy, would be as satisfying. The last one wasn't, or the one before that. They only stayed for such a short while, and then moved on. But maybe, Beth hoped, maybe after it was all over this couple would stay.
"Do you think they'll last?" she asked John.
"You mean the new couple?"
"Yes."
"I hope so. I have some big plans for them. They'll eat it up before we're through."
"I hope so," Beth said wistfully, and then she began to think about doing it dog fashion and nothing else mattered.
CHAPTER TWO
Madge Tillman heard the doorbell and scurried to answer it. She stopped at the door and straightened her cotton dress. She hadn't expected any visitors. Maybe it's just a salesman, she thought as she ran her slender fingers through her straw-blonde hair.
Opening the door slightly, Madge peered into Beth's radiant face.
"Hello, neighbor," Beth smiled, letting her even white teeth glisten in the early afternoon light. "My name is Beth Hallman. I live across the street. I thought I'd welcome you to the community." She smiled again, and cocked her eyebrows.
Madge felt embarrassed. Quickly, she pulled the door open and stepped aside as Beth entered.
"I'm sorry I acted so startled," Madge said, straightening a strand of loose hair. "Come in. How about some coffee?"
"Rather have a drink," Beth answered, casually scanning the room. Madge watched the young woman's eyes as they scrutinized the drapes, the carpeting, the furniture, the two still-life reproductions. Her look was not encouraging.
"Oh, we really haven't started decorating yet," Madge apologized. She was sorry she said the words. Why should she have to make excuses? She thought the room looked nice.
"It's lovely, ah-Marge?"
"Madge."
"Oh, yes, Madge. I think it's very - ah - homey."
"Thank you." Homey, Madge thought. Homey. Well, of all the nerve. She looked at Beth and the woman smiled, a deep warm smile. Madge felt embarrassed again. The woman didn't look like the cold, nose-tilted type.
"How about that drink?" Beth asked, winking at her.
"Sure." Madge wondered if she had miscalculated the woman's survey and comment. "What would you like?"
"Martini - and very, very dry. I start dry and end up wet later on in the evening." Madge laughed softly and Beth responded with another warm smile.
"Be back in a jiffy," Madge said over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. "Make yourself at home."
"I will," Beth said, a thin, concerned smiled etched on her attractive face. I will, she thought as she let her hand cup under her breast. She peered to make sure Madge was out of sight, then squeezed her breast, pushing her fingers deep into the gland until her face twisted in pain. It felt good, like being crucified. It was the pain of sacrifice. She released the grip on her breast and gently rubbed her V. Ah, she thought, I can sense this Madge is going to be a very good partner. Ummmm ... I can taste her now ... I can see her trembling and moaning under John ... can see his ass quivering ... his muscles tense ... his veins protruding from the skin....
"One, or two olives?"
Beth jerked her hand from her V and called back, "One and a half."
"Have to settle for one then," came Madge's faraway answer. Beth shook herself and sat down on the sofa. She had to watch herself. She was becoming too bold. One more slipup like the last one, with the other couple, and it could all bust open. The whole key was keeping cool. Being able to control the impulse, not letting it get the best of her. She gritted her teeth as she felt the compulsion to squeeze her vagina. The sensation passed as she heard Madge shuffling toward her from the kitchen, a tray of drinks precariously balanced between her slender hands.
"Martinis for one."
"You're not having one?" Beth asked, letting her lower lip droop and fluttering her eyes.
"Oh, no," Madge said seriously, settling back in the French accent chair across from Beth. "I never drink before five. And then, not often."
Beth studied the woman carefully. She blinked her eyes in disbelief. "Are you serious?"
"Yes," Madge answered; then, leaning forward eagerly, she asked, "Tell me, how long have you lived here? Do you like it? Is there a lot to do?"
"Wait! Wait!" Beth said, holding up her hand. "One thing at a time. First, I don't drink alone. Either you'll have to insult me and put these drinks back in the fridge or join me and make me happy."
Madge looked shocked. She sat back a moment and bit her lower lip. Arny didn't like her drinking, and she had never really enjoyed it. He set down the rule: only an occasional drink. He didn't want it to become a ritual. She had agreed, knowing that his father had been a heavy drinker and that Arny had been adamant about liquor since the first day he met her. He wasn't a square about it. He said it was necessary to have around, and to serve, but not a necessity to drink. They'd had an occasional drink, but never in the afternoon.
"Is something the matter?" Beth said, leaning forward and reaching to touch Madge's cheek.
When Beth's fingers made contact with Madge's flesh, she jerked back in the chair, her eyes wide with amazement.
"Oh - oh, I'm terribly sorry. I bet you thought I was a zombie for a minute."
"Well, I was certainly concerned." Beth leaned back and crossed her legs, letting her short, doeskin skirt ride up her thin, well-tapered legs. She smiled as she saw Madge's eyes view them, then glance away.
"I - I have a bad habit about letting my mind wander," Madge apologized. "I was thinking about our rules."
"Rules?"
"Yes. I know you'll probably think they're silly. But my husband, Arny, doesn't like me to drink in the daytime."
"Oh, teetotalers," Beth said crisply, consciously pulling her dress down to see how Madge would react. The woman blushed and glanced away.
"No ... no... We're really not that bad. It's just that Arny has his own ideas about things and gets mad when I don't go along."
"You mean you'd really like to have a drink?" Beth wriggled up in the sofa until her skirt was hiked mid-thigh. She recrossed her legs slowly, letting them hesitate slightly in the process and watching Madge's eyes.
Madge squirmed in her chair and-tried to smile pleasantly. She was embarrassed and slightly disturbed. She felt defensive about the drinking ... and Beth's legs. She kept crossing them. They were certainly attractive legs. Probably a habit she picked up at parties. Madge had seen a lot of women using the leg-crossing ploy to attract men. She didn't think it was wrong - just bold.
"Well?"
"What?"
"The drinks, Madge. Are we, or are we not?" Beth's voice was rimmed with irritation. Madge felt uncomfortable. She felt like a schoolgirl told by her mother not to cross a street and knowing the only way home was across that street. She looked at the martini pitcher. It was two in the afternoon. A woman was trying to be friendly with her. Why shouldn't she? Arny probably stopped and had martinis on the way home and never told her about it, anyway. Besides, why shouldn't she learn to enjoy herself? She might not have a college education or the grace of some of the women married to Arny's college friends, but she knew the difference between right and wrong. She knew what she was capable of and what she wasn't.
"Yes," Madge said defiantly. "I'll join you in a drink. Please excuse me."
As Madge swished off to the kitchen for another glass, Beth leaned back and tossed her head, letting her hair swipe casually across her face. This is going to be easier than I imagined, she thought. A virgin housewife. John will go out of his mind when I tell him. Or maybe ... maybe I won't tell him. I'll keep it for a surprise. Otherwise he'll be frothing at the mouth until he gets her between his apish paws. She let a giggle escape her lips.
"Am I missing something?" Madge said, almost running from the kitchen.
"Just a little joke my husband and I had last night, Madge. I'll tell you about it when we get to know each other better. It will have more meaning to you then."
"Oh," Madge said, not realizing the meaning of what Beth had said.
Three martinis later the two women were laughing, covering their mouths with their hands and snickering at gossip coming mostly from Beth about the neighbors. Beth was slouched back on the couch, running her fingers gently through her auburn hair and telling Madge about Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. Madge sat raptured on the edge of her chair, listening to the charming stories about the land and the people.
"... and we fly to Jamaica twice a year, just for sun and fun. It's the in thing now...."
Even with the liquor buzzing through her brain, Madge felt the inconsistency. She couldn't hold back her question. "But why do you live here, in this tract, if your husband is so - so well off? Gosh, I'd imagine you living in a mansion with servants, and indoor swimming pools like at Hearst's Castle."
Beth laughed casually. She'd been through this time and time again and enjoyed the gambit more each time it presented itself. Sitting up and leaning forward, as if in secret conference, she said, "We hate rich people. We can't stand them. Rich people are snobs. They have to get their kicks doing rich things, with rich people, at rich places. They live in money, they talk in money, they water money-green yards. They even smell like money. John and I have money, but we don't wallow in it. We live in nice neighborhoods, like this one, with nice people around like you and - I'm sure -your husband." She paused, letting her eyebrows rise in a knowing gesture. Unconsciously, Madge snickered, as if she knew and Beth didn't. Beth smiled. The bird was playing right into her hands.
"Yes." Madge's eyes rolled back and she stared at the ceiling. "My husband is nice."
"And sexy?" Beth was leaning over dangerously. Another inch and she would have toppled over the coffee table.
"Very - oh, come on, Beth. That's private."
"Is it?" Beth said, sitting back and licking at the rim of her glass. She knew she shouldn't push. Things were going too well now to trip her hand. But she couldn't resist. It was such an opportunity.
Madge looked at Beth and felt a wave of embarrassment. She had almost told her about John. She wanted to. She would enjoy confiding to another woman some of the things she felt. But she had only known her for a few hours. That wasn't long enough.
"Does your husband play pool?"
Madge shook her head. What a strange question, she thought. "Pool?"
"Yes. John has one hang-up besides me - pool. He can't live without it. He's even invented some of his own games. I thought if Arny shot, he and John would have a lot in common."
"Gosh, I don't know," Madge said, feeling her nose. It was numb. Numb meant she'd had more than enough. She was surprised she wasn't worse, having drunk three martinis. "I - I'll ask him."
"Good," Beth said, swinging her legs to stand. She let them spread slightly and her skirt was rumpled up around her hips. Madge blinked. She was sure she saw the woman's pubic hair. Pubic hair? That meant she didn't wear any....
Beth stood quickly, her wide-toothed, gleaming smile back. "I have to go, darling. Look, why don't we plan to have dinner and a few drinks Friday night. John would like to meet your Arny and we could have a fun time watching the boys play pool, if Arny plays."
Madge grabbed the side of her chair to steady herself. The martinis were having their effect. "Sounds great. I don't think he's got anything planned for Friday. I'll let you know tomorrow. All right?"
"Fine. And tell him we plan to have a few drinks, just to break the ice."
"Okay."
"I'll find my way out. I've been here before."
"You have?" Beth asked incredulously.
"Certainly. We used to be very good friends with the McCuskers. They lived here before you."
"Oh."
"Come over and see me tomorrow. Two houses down, across the street. 'Bye."
Madge watched as Beth flowed across the room and turned, disappearing down the hallway. She heard the door click shut and sank down into the chair to relax and let-her head clear before Arny came home.
She thought back over the afternoon and remembered talking about herself, telling Beth where she had grown up, how she had been a secretary when she met Arny who was a junior executive in Chicago. How they had fallen in love like two teen-agers and lived on shoestrings until his last assignment. Now they had a little money and had made a down payment on the house, bought a two-year-old car and color television. She had even told her about her Baptist mother and the strict morality she had preached.
As she sat there recalling the afternoon, something gnawed at her. There was something about Beth; something about the way she licked her lips; something about the way she crossed her legs, so slowly, so deliberately; something she had done when she came back into the room after going to the bathroom. She had been rubbing her breast as if she were massaging it, not just ridding herself of a bra itch. And her panties - God, she was sure she hadn't imagined it. The woman had no panties - but, the martinis; her imagination.... Madge shook her head and swayed into the bathroom for a cold shower. Arny wouldn't like it anyway that she had had a few drinks, and if affected, he'd like it less. She shut her eyes and thought of her husband's naked body as she let the cold, refreshing water cascade off her smooth, young flesh.
"Prime, eh?"
Beth kicked her shoes off and looked at her naked husband sitting in the whirlpool bath.
"You wouldn't believe, John, baby," Beth said, arching her back and thrusting out her breasts. "The chick is going to be the easiest, and the dear-old-hubby sounds weak enough but I wouldn't place any bets yet. Let's see what happens Friday." She unbuttoned her blouse and wriggled, letting it slide seductively off her back.
"Another dinner?" John asked, turning in the whirlpool to see his wife's stripping more clearly.
"Umm. Another dinner. Only I think you'll be able to eat the wife before I gobble the husband." Switching her hips, she snaked out of the hunter green skirt and tossed it in the corner. Standing in her slip and bra, Beth arched back, shook her hair and began to undulate. "Ooooooeeeeeeeee," she moaned, swishing her long hair around her face until she felt the strands slapping at her mouth and eyes. "Oooeeee."
"You're a crazy cunt," John said softly, flexing his legs and locking his hands together behind his head as he watched his wife perform her ritual. Her mouth was puckered and her eyes squeezed shut. Her hair was frizzled and stood out from her head as if drawn into space by magnets. Her hands slid up, pulling her slip up and over her head. With a flick of her wrist, she snapped the silk undergarment in the corner and swayed, dressed only in a bra.
"Crazy about you and your cock," she moaned, letting her hands slide up to the undersides of her breasts.
John took a cigar from the tile edge of the whirlpool and lighted it. He watched his sensual wife snaking around in front of him through the thick, blue smoke. He felt his penis begin to harden as the warm water swirled around his loins, caressing his muscular body. He shifted the cigar in his mouth and thought of her vagina, her wet, pudding-soft slit with its pink, slick walls; its coat-hook-like clitoris dangling down, bumping against the side of his cock as it slid in and out; teasing her, making her squeal, making her beg for more. He looked down and saw the cockhead pop out of the water. He pushed it down and locked it between his legs, feeling the muscles strain as he captured it there, making it wait.
"Ummm. Ummm." Beth twisted her arm behind her and unsnapped the lace-trimmed bra. It dangled on her shoulders for a moment until she snapped her head and shoulder forward, sending it shooting across the room. John looked up and saw her blood-engorged nipples sticking out of the creamy, sour cream-colored breasts. Their round, red, jutting tips quivered as she began to shimmy her body, making it shake with controlled design from her calves to the beautiful, long auburn hair swishing from her head. Daintily, she moved toward him, her V arched out, her head tilted back, her lips forming an O, her tongue jabbing at the air like the tip of a bloody bayonet.
"Cool. Keep your cool," he warned menacingly as she began to quiver uncontrollably. John rolled the thick cigar around his mouth, letting his tongue lave its sour, soggy end. He could feel the saliva forming in his mouth.
"Ohhh," Beth moaned as she wriggled up to the edge of the whirlpool, her head still tilted back, her mouth still puckered. She was clutching at her breasts, milking them out and twirling the nipples with her fingers.
John swished in the water and she knelt at the edge of the sunken tub. Moaning and lolling her head from side to side, she let her hands slide down to her trim waist, to her navel, where they traced the indentation of her button, and then down to her V where she let her fingers pull back the lips of her cunt, exposing her sensitive clitoris. She could feel the cool air wrapping around the aroused nub. She shivered and her skin erupted with goose bumps. John took a long drag off the cigar and shoved his face into her slit. She moaned as she pulled the lips farther apart, allowing his mouth to enter her fully.
He blew, and she could feel the hot cigar smoke filling her cavity. He took another drag, nestled his lips back into her exposed cunt and blew again. She squirmed sensuously.
"Okay," he said-, leaning back. "Turn on, baby."
Beth lay back on the edge of the bath and began to slip her slender middle finger in and out of the hole. The faster she slid her finger, the more smoke escaped the hole.
"I'm on fire," she wheezed, her eyes shut, her head rolling drunkenly from one side to another. "My cunt's on fire and I'm putting it out. I'm putting it out. Oh, help, me. Somebody help me."
"I'll help you, you weird cunt," John said, tired of the game. "I've got a firehose that will drown that goddamn fire."
"Stick it in. Hurry. Stick it in. I need it. I need it."
John yanked her by the pubic hair and pulled her into the warm, swirling water. She was still lolling her head and out of it. John grinned as he lifted her buoyant body up and aimed his cock. His muscles trembling, he lowered her over the staff. He felt the cunt lips spread and fold over his cockhead. He pushed gently until the head passed the tight ring. Then he grabbed her waist and plunged her down until she screamed awake. Her eyes agog, her nostrils flared, he drove her up and down on his staff.
She cursed a$ him, calling him every foul name she could think of. She raked his back with her fingernails until he bled. Leaning down, she bit into his shoulder with her teeth and licked at his ear viciously.
"You filthy cunt," John snarled, yanking her down on top of his blood-engorged cock. "I'm going to rip your twat to shreds."
"Bastard. Cocksucker. Asshole-eater." Beth said the words hoarsely. She wrapped her hands around his neck and squeezed, trying to choke him. He laughed and tightened his grip on her waist as he pulled her down onto his stiff, eight-inch prick. Her hands felt ridiculous on his neck as she tried to squeeze.
"Enough," John spat as his strokes began to quicken.
"All right," Beth wheezed, letting her arms drape gently around his neck. She lifted her head and looked at him, her broad, toothy smile meeting his look. "Love?"
"Wicked, wild, and love," John said, pulling her head down. He pumped up, meeting her downthrusts as his mouth crushed hers. He felt her tongue enter his mouth and he formed an O and sucked it, drawing back and forth over her spear-shaped organ.
Beneath them, the water churned as their bodies slapped and twisted and ground. Pubic hairs floated to the surface, and caught in the whirlpool's endless vertigo, they swirled around like a mating pair in a Roman orgy.
"Now ... now," Beth cried as she withdrew her tongue and bit down on his shoulder. "Oh ... oh ... oh...." She clutched him, this time digging her fingernails into his skin passionately. His meaty hands grabbed her buttocks and jacked her ass up and down as he hammered into her from below. She clutched him and froze. He arched against her and jammed her down. There was a moment's silence with no sound but the steady whirring of the whirlpool, and then Beth screamed. It was a long, seemingly endless howl. She kicked and thrashed, pulling at John's hair, beating him with her fists, kicking him with her feet. And then it was over. She floated with him in the water, still attached by his penis. She said nothing.
"I wonder if that Madge is going to be as wild a screw as you are?" John said, pinching her breast.
Silence.
"I wonder if-"
"I heard you the first time," Beth groaned, only half interested in what her husband was saying. "If you think she is, then I'll have to cut off her vagina and use it to line the pockets of your pool table."
"Then I'll have to get another pool table, won't I?"
"Is that one full, already?"
"Already."
"Well, I'll be-"
"You already are, dear; don't push it."
She laughed a long, shrilly piercing laugh that could almost be heard across the street in the Tillman's house.
CHAPTER THREE
Madge jerked her head toward the door. She thought she heard a scream. She listened and heard nothing more. Jittery, she thought. I'm a stupid, nervous wreck.
She paced the floor and glanced at her watch. Arny was due home any minute. She swallowed, and tasted the mouthwash. She felt silly, trying to hide the fact that she'd had a few drinks, running around the house making sure she had washed all the glasses, emptied all the ashtrays.
She had wanted everything to be perfect in her marriage. But some of John's ideas and philosophies, she was learning, were more difficult to execute than she had imagined.
She heard the purring engine and the door slam. He was home. Hastily, she brushed back a strand of misplaced hair, took a quick look at her face in the hall mirror and went to the door.
"Hello, darling."
"Hi." Arny's slender shoulders were sloped forward. He slid his precious valise down the hall and shed his jacket. "What's for dinner?"
"Love...." Madge walked up to him and put her arms around him. The martinis were still tingling her mind, and she had a sudden desire to make love. Maybe, if he would seduce her, she would relax and have a talk with him about the drinking. She didn't really see anything wrong with it. Especially now. She felt so warm and cozy in his arms.
"Have you been drinking?" Arny asked, whiffing her. His boyish, pale face was expressionless. Madge felt him tense and she released her grip around his waist.
"Yes," she said boldly, feeling angry and hurt. "The woman across the street came over and wanted one, and she wouldn't drink alone."
"So." Arny jerked back from her and pulled off his tie. His voice was cold and aggravated. "It takes a little temptation to forget the rules. Just some day-drinking floozy saunters in and twists your arm until you drink with her."
"Arny!"
"Don't Arny me, Madge. Look, we have rules. If we have rules then we try to keep them. Otherwise they're no good." There was no sympathy in his voice, no understanding.
"But I only had one, for goodness' sake, Arny," she lied and felt sick. She didn't know why she said one; it seemed like it might help ease the tension.
"One or twenty, I don't see the difference." He clomped into the living room, sank onto the couch, and picked up a paper. Madge followed him, not knowing what to say.
"I'm sorry," she finally said softly, hoping it would ease things.
"Sorry doesn't change it," Arny snapped. His gray eyes stared at the evening paper.
"I won't let it happen again."
"I don't believe you."
"Why?" she asked.
"People who break one rule, usually break promises too. Look, let's not talk about it. You just fix dinner."
Madge screamed. She felt like some mechanical doll that had made the wrong turn, said the wrong recorded message, and the inventor was about to scrap the whole project.
"The hell I'll fix your dinner. You can't just talk to me like I was a nobody. I'm not your slave. I'm a person."
"You're drunk." It was almost a whisper, hissing between his lips as he shuffled the pages of the paper.
"Drunk! Three martinis with a neighbor and I'm drunk, huh?"
"Oh." He put the paper down and drilled her with his eyes. "It's three martinis, now. A minute ago it was one. What next, ten?"
Madge sobbed. For the last three months of their marriage she had been walking on tiptoes, trying to make everything right for him. He was taking her for granted, never going out, just coming home and doing his work, asking for dinner, making hasty love to her. Now, the first time she tried to enjoy herself, he was being cruel.
"So I lied," she sobbed. "You're - you're such a prude. You never pay any attention to me. You keep me locked up in the house. You make love to me like I was your - your hand or something. Why shouldn't I have a drink if I enjoy it?"
"The next thing you'll be having, because you enjoy it, is an affair, I suppose," Arny snarled, slamming down the paper. He pulled his lanky frame up and walked toward her. "You can't keep the drinking rule. Why should you be devoted? I told you what happened to my father. He boozed it up all the time, and every time he got drunk he'd chase down some slut. Sometimes he'd bring them home. That's what happens, dear wife. You got to get your kicks someway - first it's booze and then somebody's body. I knew you'd been drinking when you cooed up to me like some gutter slut."
"Slut? Are you calling me a slut?" He said nothing. "Oh, Arny, how could you!"
Crying, she turned and ran down the hall. He heard the door click open and then slam shut. He took a cigarette out of the pack on the table and tapped it. Maybe he'd been too rough. She had been cooped up. Maybe he'd not given her enough time. His hand? God, that one had hurt to the quick. His hand? How could she say something like that? The more he thought about it, the more he burned. Angry, he snapped the lighter and the flame caught, rising up toward the tip of the cigarette. He watched the flame lick at the cigarette's end. It was like sex, starting with only a spark, flashing, burning ... click ... he snapped the lighter closed and walked out to the kitchen.
He looked around and then went to the cabinet. Opening it, he stood looking at the liquor bottles. Sometimes he didn't understand himself. He liked to drink; he liked the feeling when he had one. But he was afraid of it too. He knew he had to keep it in check - he'd seen it get out of hand, seen what it had done to people. An urge to break all the bottles surged through him. He let it pass as he stared at the smoky fluid. He had to keep it around, to serve when people came over - in the evenings. The last thing he needed now was for the other executives to label him-a prude. Prude. She'd shouted that. She'd called him a prude ... and she'd said he screwed like he was masturbating. Both thoughts infuriated him. He thought she'd be the one to help him keep away from the stuff. That's why he hadn't married one of the college girls. They were so phony, they lived on pretenses. He thought Madge was the wholesome kind of girl who didn't need the facade the others made for themselves. He didn't know. He just didn't know....
Reaching up, he touched a bottle of scotch. The glass felt cool around his hand. Maybe he'd show her what it was like to have a drunken husband. Maybe that would teach her a lesson. Maybe he'd get loaded every night for a week -just for one week -and that would make her sick. That would make her understand why it was important for her not to tempt him, to help him keep away from it. Yes, he thought as he poured a splash of the amber liquid into a glass, I'll get roaring drunk for a week and teach her a lesson.
As he sat back on the sofa, glass in one hand, bottle in the other, he didn't think of where his young wife was, or what she was doing. His only concern was the golden-colored, burning liquid trickling down his throat.
"Madge, why, come in. What a surprise."
Beth took Madge's arm and led her into the plushly decorated living room. She looked up at John and shrugged, signaling her amazement.
"I'm sorry-" Madge sobbed and Beth squeezed her arm comfortingly around the woman.
"That's it, baby, cry it out. You're with friends." Beth waved John out of the room and he slid into the next room without Madge ever noticing he was there. This was too much, Beth thought. The pigeon was in the nest.
Beth steered Madge to the couch and pulled her down beside her. "Tell me about it, Madge. What's the matter?"
"We-we -had a fight and he called me-a...."
"Say it," Beth urged, a smile on her face. "Purge yourself. Say it, say what he called you."
"A slut." Madge hunched over and began sobbing. Beth pretended she didn't hear what the word was.
"I didn't hear you, Madge. He called you a what?"
"A slut," she repeated. "He said because I was drinking I was a slut."
"How cruel." Beth licked her lips and snuggled close to the crying woman beside her. "Cry it out, darling. Everything will be all right." Beth let her hand rub the woman's back. She began at the shoulder and worked down toward the small of her back; her fingers spread, pressing in and covering as much flesh as she could. She halted at the bottom of the spine and decided the time wasn't ripe. Beth didn't want to stop, she wanted to keep rubbing down toward the woman's firm buttocks, pressing each cheek gently and then carefully running her fingers up her crack until she squealed and hugged her and begged her not to stop. But that would come, that would come.
"Would you like to spend the night with us?" Beth offered, her trembling voice almost revealing her true feelings.
"I - I wouldn't want to impose, I -"
"Not another word," Beth said firmly. "I don't think you should face him tonight. Show him you're independent. Let him worry about you for a change." The sage advice came easy for Beth; she was well-practiced at cleaving marriages and then melding them back together after she and John were through with them.
"I don't know...."
"I know," Beth stated crisply. "I haven't had a girl friend stay over for a long time. It'll be like schooldays again. We'll play a few games, have a good laugh or two, a drink, and sleep it off. Tomorrow, you two can go over your problems, and you'll have the upper hand. Believe me, Madge. I know how to handle men."
Beth pulled Madge's head against her shoulder and caressed the back of the woman's neck as she sobbed. Beth could feel the warm stirring in her loins as she ground Madge's hair against the soft flesh of her neck.
"Why don't you go wash your face, freshen up, and I'll introduce you to my husband. He's anxious to meet you."
"Please - please don't say anything to him about-"
"Your secret's safe, Madge. I'll tell him your husband is out of town for the night and I've asked you to stay over with us. How about that?"
"Fine," Madge sniffled. "And, Beth-"
"Yes?"
"Thank you. Thank you very much."
"I'm sure it will be all my pleasure," Beth smiled. "I'm sure."
Madge followed Beth toward the bathroom, thankful that she had met such a nice, honest, friendly woman. She was sure they would have a lasting friendship - a long, lasting friendship.
John was lying on the bed naked when Beth walked in.
"How's the home for wayward wives?" he asked, spreading his legs.
"Fine," Beth said, lowering herself between his haunches and licking his balls. "We couldn't have asked for anything better." She laved her tongue around her husband's bulging testicles, nibbling at the loose skin with her teeth. Her hands circled his half-hard cock.
John lay with his fingers laced behind his head, watching his prick-happy wife. He loved every lecherous inch of her cunningly sexual body. He had spent ten long years looking for a woman who thought as he did, who read his mind, who gave him thrills no other woman could. Beth was more like a partner in a holdup than just a bizarre sex partner. Everything she did was carefully plotted out, designed in her sharp-witted mind. She had the art down to a science and was so good at it she could prepare the couples without any help from him. All he had to do was appear, drop the right hints, and the couples were on their back, begging. Recently, Beth had been using a new gimmick - blackmail. It was a vicious, cannibalistic method - but it was also hellishly exciting.
"Are we going to use the dirty B on this nice kid?" he asked with mock chagrin.
"Ummm," Beth moaned, her mouth sliding up and down his long, stiff cock.
"Ummm, what?"
"Ummm, sure," she said, sucking off the tip with a loud pop. "Just because I like the girl, doesn't mean she should get any preferential treatment. Anyway, I'll enjoy watching her husband squirm. Any man who would call a woman a slut -"
John wrapped his legs around her head and laughed. "You're a wiseass, little shit of a cunt. And I love you."
"Just don't ask me to eat out your ass, or I'll go running home to mother." She laughed wildly and gave John's cock a few more deep, long sucks before she pried herself loose and told him to get dressed.
"I want you to make an impression on her."
"You mean in her, don't you?"
"You knew what I meant when I married you," she quipped.
"Be out in a minute."
"Mix the drinks - strong."
"Right."
CHAPTER FOUR
Madge didn't really want the drink, but she took it, mostly out of defiance.
"Cheers," she boasted as she gulped down the alcohol. She liked John as much as Beth. He was graceful, and very masculine. He could talk and listen, and when he spoke to her she felt as if he were an old, dear friend. Yet she felt something else. An exciting sparkle in his eye; a look that could be suggestive. She thought how long it had been since a man looked at her that way. Her skin prickled and she shook involuntarily.
"How about some pool," John offered, standing and motioning toward the basement door. "Do you play at all, Madge?"
Feeling the effects of the drinks, Madge giggled and rose to her feet. "I'll try anything tonight, I feel so free and easy."
She meant the statement lightly, but as she felt John's eyes meet hers, she knew he had taken it literally. She wasn't afraid of his stare, but even through the gauze of her liquor-filled mind, she felt wary.
"Well, almost anything," she added.
Beth stood and joined the couple, laughing and swaying from the drinks. "You have a sense of humor, Madge. We like that."
John's eyes still held hers. He was smiling and a single dimple seemed to pop into his face. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go."
Madge followed him down the winding stairs to the basement. She watched his muscles ripple under the skin-tight polo shirt and saw his buttocks clenching as his tight trousers clung to his well-formed body. She thought of Arny's body. It was thin and pasty and slouched. She'd never really compared his physical form to another man's until tonight. She was, for the first time in her life, disappointed in her mate's sensuality.
"Wow!" Madge exclaimed as John turned the rheostat up and the room filled with brilliant light. The basement was a room with low-slung sofas and double reclining chairs spaced around a long, green-covered pool table. Madge walked around the table, letting her fingers drag behind her over the finely polished wood. She stopped at one of the table's pockets and let her fingers slide inside.
"That's strange," she said as she paused and ran them down into the pocket again and again. "The pocket feels like hair, pub -" She couldn't get the word out.
"Camel hair," Beth said quickly, looking at John and smiling. "We have a touch of every country on that table. Part of it was built in France, part in Japan, part in Arabia."
Madge kept her hand in the pocket, feeling the coarse, crinkly lining. She laughed and swirled around to face her hosts.
"Isn't that silly of me?" she said, holding onto the cushion for support. "I thought that the pockets were lined with pubic hair -naughty me." She put her hand to her mouth and giggled.
"Let's play," John said, taking a cue down from the rack on the wall.
"Use the ordinary balls," Beth said, drawing one down herself. "Pick a cue, Madge."
Weaving toward them, Madge reached out for a cue and lost her precarious balance. John's arms snaked out and caught her, pulling her to him as he helped her back up. She gasped as she felt his rock-hard chest pressing against her back.
"I'm sorry. I guess I've had too much."
"Nonsense, we all keel over when we play pool." John laughed and released her, handing her a cue he picked for her. He then pulled a set of regulation balls from the credenza in the corner and racked them.
Madge watched as his deep-tanned hands fondled the balls, switching a striped one for a solid one, pushing the rack back and forth until the balls were tight, and finally gently lifting off the rack. She was awkward as she tried to coordinate the stick to the cue to the ball she was aiming for.
"Not bad," John complimented. "But I think you could use a little instruction." He moved around behind her and pressed against her back, taking both her arms in his. He was pressing his face against hers, as he leaned her over the table and helped her aim, telling her to balance the stick in her right hand and push it forward squarely against the cue.
Madge began to tingle all over. His body was matted against hers, and his breath was hot against her ear. Her hands trembled and she said, "Yes, yes. I have it."
The telephone rang and John left her to answer it.
"Quite a man, isn't he?" Beth said casually, flopping down on the sofa and freshening the drinks.
"Very attractive," Madge agreed, still smelling his husky after-shave lotion. She aimed at a ball and tried to concentrate on the game. But John's virile body, as it had pressed against hers, kept creeping back into her mind. She miscued.
"Guess I'm not much sport at this," she said, joining Beth. "Your shot."
"Break time," Beth said, handing Madge a brimmed drink.
"I better not, Beth," Madge implored. "I'm about to fall down now."
"Want to go home to your husband and face defeat?" Beth said.
"In a way - a woman can only put up so much of a fight. He was right -"
"Give up once and you'll be giving up the rest of your life, Madge, believe me. A woman has to stand her ground. I say to you - stay here and let it all hang out. Tomorrow tell him what you think and don't budge. He'll come around to you."
The advice sounded clear, honest, and straightforward. Arny had always told her what to do and how to do it. Now maybe it was time for her to have her say. They'd only been married a year - maybe there was time to start over.
"Okay, Beth. I'll fight."
"Good," Beth said, placing a friendly hand on her thigh. "You'll never regret it."
John hurried back into the room, concern etched across his attractive face. "It was your aunt, Beth. She's feeling ill and wants you to come over right away. Her nurse is off for the evening and she needs somebody to talk to until twelve."
Beth stood, stretched, and began to climb the stairs.
"W-wait, Beth, I'll go with you." Madge looked from John to Beth like a rabbit.
"Oh, no, Madge. Look, my aunt is a funny bird. Kooky. She only lets in the nurse and me and the houseboy. One of those rich kooks I told you about this afternoon. She'd have a kitten if anyone else came. She won't even let John in the house, poor old bird. Look, you just sit tight here and play a few games and I'll be back in a few hours."
Beth started up the stairs and John shrugged at Madge. "Better do as she says, Madge. Beth makes her mind up and that's that."
"But-"
"But what?" John asked. "You afraid of the bogeyman?" He laughed and shot another ball. Upstairs, a door slammed and a car coughed to life. Madge, tense and nervous, smiled and sat down.
"Sorry, I'm just so nervous tonight."
"Relax, baby. Relax." John's voice was smooth and soothing. Baby, Madge thought. He called me baby just like Arny says honey.
"Have another drink."
The room seemed to close in around Madge. She felt a tenseness in the air -an electrical charge hanging in the atmosphere, pressing around her, squeezing her, caressing her. She looked down at the palms of her hands and they were covered with sweat. She grabbed the drink and gulped it down, feeling the heavily spiked fluid singeing her throat as it funneled down to her stomach.
"Come on, I'll show you how to make that shot again." John leaned against the table, his eyes staring at her.
"I'm a lost cause," she said, trying to sound casual. "You'd be wasting your time. I like to watch you shoot - you go ahead.".
"I insist. As a host, I just can't invite people down to play pool with me and then beat them because I know a few tricks they don't. Now come on. Don't hold back." He reached out his hand. Madge looked at the thick, glistening palm. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, the electrical sensation greater than ever. Mechanically, she offered him her hand and he pulled her to him, turning her like a robot and bending her over the table.
He began the instruction again, moving her arms and shifting her body so she could make the shots. Her mind wasn't on the instruction. All she could feel was his body pressing harder and harder against hers; all she could feel was his arms squeezing in against her, tighter and tighter. Her head buzzed and her breath came quickly. She'd never experienced this with anyone, not even Arny. It seemed so real, yet she was sure he was moving slightly against her anus, pressing his hardened penis against the crack of her ass.
She couldn't tell how much of the sensation was in her mind and how much physical. She was keying up, the buzzing was louder in her ears, the liquor heady in her brain. Suddenly, she felt his arms slide off hers and slip up against her throbbing breasts. It was real. He really was trying something.
"Noooo... noo," she moaned, trying feebly to twist away. His mouth was on her neck, lightly kissing the slender slope of her shoulders.
She felt his tongue lick out under her ear and up the side of her face. She was frozen, unable to move. Her head buzzed louder and louder and she could feel his left hand dropping down to her V, pressing it with his fingers. Her mouth was like cotton. She tried to speak but nothing came out. She wanted to yell, to say no, to cry -but nothing came. Only a small, low, whimpering, "No...."
"Flesh. Soft, warm, slippery flesh. Flesh crawling over you, dragging across your breasts, flesh sucking on your nipples, flesh sliding gently up into you, flesh feeling you, flesh loving you...." He was swaying to the left and right with her locked in his arms as he whispered the words over and over into her ear. She was moaning no, but he could feel her responding, grinding her anus back against him, slowly thrashing less and less.
When he judged the time was right he turned her around and looked into her face. Her eyes were half shut, her lips trembling. Over and over again she said, No, it wasn't right. They had no right. It wouldn't work out. They'd be sorry. Madge had never used those words before. They came out automatically, instinctively.
"Flesh," John repeated, his tongue licking his lips and his hands slowly unbuttoning Madge's dress. She stood lifeless in front of him, her hands hanging from her sides like iron bars.
She felt the dress being pulled off her. She felt John's hands gently unsnap the bra catch, pull down the panties. She didn't step out of them. John lifted each leg for her and threw the clothes to the corner. All she could say was no as she felt John's tongue licking up her thigh, his hands crawling up the back of her legs. She thought she was going to faint. The blood seeped from her brain as his tongue licked at the matted pubic hair. She moaned and reached out for his head to push it away as she felt his tongue enter her. She had never imagined such a thing happening to her. It was something she'd only heard about and thought of as vile and corrupt. Now it was happening to her. She couldn't let it.
As her hands touched his head, his tongue slipped up into her, wagging around against her clitoris. The sensation coursed through her and instead of pushing him, she clutched his wavy hair in her hands and pulled, driving his face and tongue deeper into her. He rotated it, moving it in, out, around.
Madge was panting, her legs bowed, her buttock muscles quivered. "Ohhh... ohhhh...." She could feel it starting. It sparked around the base of her spine and began to smolder and then ignite. As she listened to the sucking, slurping sounds of John's mouth and tongue, she cried out. She had experienced the first of many bizarre orgasms.
She was floating through the spasms of ecstasy when she realized John was lifting her and carrying her to the sofa. Her mind still swam in the guiltless sea of the liquor and her body was renewing its trembling, hungry thirst.
"Please, John. Don't. Let me up. I shouldn't have let you - John?"
He stood stripping his clothes off, running his hands up and down his hairy chest, lifting his testicles up in the palms of his hands and letting them fall below his rigid penis as he said the words over and over - "Flesh. Flesh."
Madge shook her head and bit her lip, sobbing, as she felt his body lie on top of hers. He was warm and strong and his scent was exciting. She thought of Beth and what she would say if she came down the stairs and saw them. She thought of Arny and what he would do if he knew - and then she didn't think. John's tongue flicked around the lips of her vagina again, prying open the aching folds. One of his hands squeezed and pinched her left breast while the other wriggled under her. She lunged upwards and drove his tongue deeply into her as she felt his finger touching her anus.
Too much was happening too fast. She had never felt such waves of passion. It was like a nightmare, a wonderfully erotic nightmare. She was gasping and sucking in deep lungfuls of air.
"Ummph," she moaned as John stabbed his finger into her anus. Reaching down, she grabbed his hair and began yanking him into her, throwing her pelvis up against his face and twisting like a corkscrew. She was drenched in sweat and her mouth was filled with saliva. She was so enthralled she didn't realize John had scooted around so his cock was poised over her mouth.
He took his hand and grabbed the staff, pressing it against her lips. She felt it and opened her glazed eyes. The foreskin was peeled back and the red, glistening tip of John's cock stared at her.
"Suck it, cunt," she heard him say. "Suck it until it comes." As if hypnotized by its commanding presence, Madge reached up and grasped the staff. She closed her trembling lips and rubbed the cockhead against her lips.
"Suck it, bitch," John spat into her cunt. "Suck its flesh off."
He pressed it hard against her lips and she gently opened, letting the head slide in. He began to move it in and out and she felt it shove against her tongue.
"Swallow! Swallow it!"
Trembling, she gulped and felt the penis fill the back of her mouth. She thought she was going to gag when he pulled it out. Again and again she heard the command to swallow and she gulped, each time the cock seemed to sink farther down into her throat with less and less trouble. Her hands began to reach up his ass, experimentally at first, but then bolder and bolder. His hands were clutching her buttocks, pulling them apart and grinding them into his face. She began to pull his cheeks apart too, feeling the coarse hairs on his ass slide under her palms. Nothing seemed to matter to her now but the touch of flesh. She was sucking voraciously at his cock, drawing it deep into her mouth as her fingers ran up and down the crack of his ass, stopping to press against the soft, pliable sphincter of his asshole. Gingerly, she pressed her fingertip against the hole and felt it twitch and tense, sucking the digit in. She let it drive into the hole in rhythm with John's tongue which waggled in her vagina like the switching tail of a contented dog.
"Deeper! Deeper!"
She drove the finger to the first knuckle, and then, when he cried again, she drove it all the way while she sucked like a vacuum at his penis.
"Now," she moaned as she felt something like claws grasping her ovaries and spitting their venom into them. She began to thrash as she felt the needlelike spurs stinging inside her, quaking her body from head to foot. John responded, driving his tongue into her slit as deep as it would go. She felt his cock harden and his body tense.
"Pull it out when I come. Pull it out when I come." The command came and she started to draw her head away from the cock.
"No. Your finger. Pull your finger out when I come."
Bucking, raking her heels against the couch, Madge arched her ass and yanked her finger out of John's ass. His tongue rammed into her as his cock began to spurt long, thick, viscous streams of semen into her throat. She choked and swallowed, her body shivering, her skin prickling. She gave one long, seemingly endless shudder and then lay exhausted with John's shrinking penis still dribbling semen into her mouth.
She lay there feeling sick as she realized what she had done. The liquor had lost its effect and she was aware of her senses; aware that a virtually strange man was lying on top of her with his mouth glued to her vagina, with his lone limp penis buried in her mouth.
"Get off-get off!" She began yelling the words and twisting.
Laughing, John rolled off, wiping his mouth on his hairy arm.
"You coach well.
Madge snapped her head around and looked into Beth's smiling face.
"You were so hot you didn't even recognize my voice. Remember, honey - Deeper. Deeper. Pull it out when I come. No, your finger. Pull your finger out when I come. Just remember one thing from now on-never trust a naked stranger, you little slut."
CHAPTER FIVE
Madge looked from John to Beth. She felt faint, embarrassed, ashamed. She stood up and ran for her clothes in the corner.
"Why?" she sobbed. "Why?"
Beth walked over to her and Madge noticed something swinging from her hand.
"We just want to keep a friendly relationship going," she said. "We thought you might enjoy looking at these pictures when your husband gets ready to stick his cock in you." She put the object on the pool table and Madge backed into the corner, holding her blouse up to her mouth.
Beth spread the pictures out on the green felt table top next to the Polaroid.
"Come, take a look."
"No," Madge whined, feeling sick inside. "Are you crazy? I thought you were -"
"You thought, shit," Beth snarled, her beautiful face twisting into ugly, cruel lines. "You thought getting screwed was something righteous. You thought only husbands had pricks. You thought we were friends - we are. All we want is to guarantee that friendship."
"I'm going home," Beth said, turning toward the wall and pulling her blouse on.
"If you leave now, half of these pictures will be sent to your husband and the other half to his boss. Now, would you like to reconsider?"
Madge turned slowly around and looked at her so-called friend. She was smiling and John had moved up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist as he humped playfully against her buttocks.
"Why? What do you want from me?"
"Flesh," John said, swaying Beth from side to side and letting his hands run up the front of her dress to her pert, upturned breasts. "We just want you to join us in a little fun and games every now and then. You did it on your own a little earlier. Now, we want it from you whenever we ask."
"But - I was drunk. I didn't want to do it. Please, let me alone."
"You didn't want to do it," Beth mocked. "Honey, I've seen starving people eat because they wanted to, and you screwed like you were starving. If you didn't want to, you would have said no. Instead you sucked my husband's penis like a professional."
"Flesh," John teased, slipping his hand between Beth's legs and playing with her twat so Madge could see. "Beautiful, uninhibited flesh - the way we like it."
"I'm going to the police." It was a last-ditch thought that crossed Madge's mind.
"Good. What are you going to tell them?"
"That - that - John raped me. And that you - you tried to blackmail me with pictures."
"Sounds good," Beth offered. "Until we show them the pictures and let them listen to the tape recording. I doubt if any jury in the world who saw you sucking John's cock and fingering his asshole would believe it. And the tape recording has moans and screams of ecstasy on it -not cries and pleas for help."
Beth laughed and tousled John's hair. Madge looked around the room, wishing she had a witness, knowing she was helpless. She sagged down in a chair, forgetting she was naked except for the blouse she held tightly against her chest. Her eyes were cast down to the floor and she began to cry. "What do I have to do to get them back?" she asked slowly, thinking of what Arny would say and do if he received the photos.
"Just come when we call, and do what we say. We aren't going to hurt you, dear - we just want you to enjoy our way of life."
"I can't," Madge sobbed, placing her face in her hands. "I can't."
"Oh, you will," Beth said coolly. "It will come easy. You won't give completely at first, but things will get better. Now, you stay here with John. I've got a few errands to run." She turned and kissed John lightly on the nose. "Better turn her on again, just to seal the deal," she whispered. "I've got a change of plans."
As Beth wound her way up the stairs she heard John say, "Come on, baby. We just started."
Arny Tillman was utterly drunk. He stood before the mirror cursing and fumbling with the four-in-one knot he was trying to tie.
"No good, slut," he spat, thinking of Madge. "She's probably out whoring around someplace." His mind reeling, he staggered back and lay on the bed. He felt sick and disgusted with himself. He'd gulped the liquor down like water -just as his father had. He was weak, spineless. He began to sob and beat his fists on the bed.
"Madge," he whined. "Come back, Madge. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
The doorbell startled him and he leaped up from the bed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. He threw his shoulders back and ran to the bathroom, splashing water on his face. He was sure it was Madge, coming home. The bell rang again and he started for the door when the thought hit him. Maybe she was hurt, maybe it was the police coming to tell him she'd been in an accident.
He unlatched the door and swung it open. Beth Hallman smiled up at him.
"Hello. May I come in?" Arny tried to focus clearly on the woman. He saw two figures, both very attractive. The woman was dressed in a tight V-necked sweater and a miniskirt that hung mid-thigh. From her shoulder hung a large purse.
"Sure. Sure," Arny said, stumbling back and letting the shapely visitor enter. He left the door open.
"Close it, there's a terrible draft outside."
For a moment Arny couldn't believe his eyes. He slowly shut the door and looked at the woman's beautiful, lean face with its wide smile and thick, red, glistening lips.
"My name is Beth - Beth Hallman. I'm the one who got Madge into trouble today and I'm here to apologize." She looked Arny up and down, letting her eyes carefully savor his body. He felt the woman's surveying eyes rest on his groin. She licked her lips and looked up at him.
"I hope I'm not here at an inconvenient time."
"No - no -" Arny said, his mouth hanging open like a bulldog's. "Come in."
"I was worried about Madge and I thought I'd come over and talk about it," Beth said, swishing her hips down the hall toward the living room.
"Have you seen her?" Arny asked, forgetting about his visitor's voluptuous ass swinging in front of him.
"Yes. She came over to the house crying. We had a long talk and I drove her to my aunt's for the night. We gave her a few sleeping pills and tucked her in. I tried to talk her into coming back for the night, but she said no, she couldn't." Beth made herself comfortable on the couch and swung her tapered, stockinged leg carelessly over her left leg. The skirt hiked up, exposing the smooth, maple sheen of her thighs. Arny's eyes watched the process and he coughed as he felt Beth staring at his wandering look.
"She's all right?" he squeaked, trying to take his mind off the woman's exposed flesh.
"Her feelings are hurt, but she's fine. I think you were a naughty boy, Arny." Beth's voice was husky and Arny felt a lump growing in his throat. "Yes, naughty. Calling your wife a name like that."
Arny's face became hot and felt a flush of embarrassment. Goddamn Marge, running to the neighbors and telling them everything, he thought. "What did she say?" He hoped she hadn't said anything about the hand. God, that would have been too much to bear.
"She said you called her a slut."
Arny leaned back, hating Madge for an instant. "Well, thanks for taking care of her," he said, wishing the woman weren't there, wishing Madge was there so he could tell her what he thought about talking home problems to neighbors. It wasn't right, it just wasn't right.
"I think everything will be all right," Beth cooed, leaning forward and uncrossing her legs. "Madge is a young girl in a lot of ways. I know that what you are doing is right. She thinks a lot of you, and so do I. I don't blame you for getting mad. A man has to run things. He's the provider. So he should make up the rules." She leaned back and let her knees separate slightly. "If I were your wife, I'd appreciate your masculinity. There aren't many men around with rugged outlooks on life." Beth took a cigarette from her purse, puckered her lips and inserted it between them.
"Light?" She leaned forward, carefully lowering her chest and tilting her head so her sweater V drooped, exposing the tops of her uplifted breasts. She watched Arny's shaking hand as he proffered the lighter. Reaching her slim hand out, she pressed it against his as she guided the cigarette toward the flame. "Thanks," she said, looking up at his eyes that riveted to her plunging cleavage. "May I have a drink?"
She had smelled the liquor on him when she first walked in and guessed what he had been doing.
"Sure. Sure," Arny said, pushing his lanky frame from the chair. "What would you like?"
"Have you been drinking, Arny?" she asked coyly.
"Yes. I'm going to teach Madge a lesson," he said, swaying in front of Beth. "I'm going to drink for a week and show her what it's like to have a drunk husband. Maybe that will show her."
"You're an admirable man, Arny," Beth said, forming an O with her lips and exhaling a thin cloud of smoke at him. "I think you re doing the right thing."
"Thanks," Arny said, sucking in a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. "What did you want?"
"Whatever you're drinking. My husband is out of town for the weekend and I'm in no hurry - that is, if you don't mind drinking with a strange woman?" She fluttered her eyes at him and leaned on her elbows so her V was exposed again to his nervous eyes.
"No. I don't mind. I'm my own man," he boasted, then turned toward the kitchen, bumping against the wall as he made the comer. She thinks I'm something, Arny thought as he splashed a glass half full of scotch. She really thinks Arny Tillman is something - and a woman like her. With her looks. God, if Madge only looked like her. God.
He pranced back into the living room, and came to an abrupt halt. Beth was sitting on the rug, her shoes lying in front of her and her legs tucked under her. An ashtray with a smoldering cigarette in it rested at her side.
"Hope you don't mind if I make myself at home, I can't stand shoes or couches -to be quite frank." She arched back against the sofa, her arms stretched away from her body, making her breasts jut out against her skintight sweater.
"No. I don't mind," Arny said. He loosened his tie and set her drink on the low coffee table. He started to sit down in the chair, but she stopped him.
"Come on, Arny. Sit by me. I won't bite and, besides, I won't have to look up at you all the time."
He gulped and ran his fingers around his collar.
"All right," he said feeling queasy. He moved over next to her and pushed the coffee table to one side so there would be room for two. He settled back, trying to look relaxed, but couldn't hide his nervous eyes from Beth's searching looks.
"Tell me about yourself, Arny, since we're going to be such close friends."
He took a long draw of the liquid and began to tell Beth about his past, his present, and his future. He liked talking to her. She seemed interested and appreciative. He began to brag about his accomplishments, drawing back into the far past and telling her about feats he had performed in high school, and even about a kite he had made when in grade school that won first prize. Beth wasn't like Madge. She was a woman, a full-bodied, mature woman even though she was Madge's age - twenty-four. The more he talked the more relaxed he became and the more liquor flowed down his gullet.
Arny felt loose, free, exuberant. He leaned his head back against the couch and felt it touch Beth's outstretched arm. He started to sit up and apologize.
"That's all right, Arny," Beth cooed, pushing his head back with her left hand. "I don't see anything wrong with your head leaning against my arm. We are friends, aren't we?"
"I like you, Beth," Arny said casually, enjoying the glow of feminine companionship. "I think we're going to be good friends."
"I know we are," Beth said huskily, then turned on her side and kissed him softly on the cheek. Arny froze. Her perfume wafted around his head, filling his nostrils. He felt her hand brush against his thigh and rest there lightly, teasingly. She laid her head on his shoulder and began to press the palm of her hand down against the top of his thigh, letting her fingers scratch lightly against his trousers.
"Arny?" she whispered as she felt his body go rigid.
"Yes," he whispered, afraid to move.
"I need to be kissed, Arny. Just one kiss. I've never felt this way before. I've never met a man I just wanted to kiss. Kiss me. Kiss me hard. Put your tongue in my mouth and kiss me."
He moved suddenly and grabbed her, pressing his mouth against hers, letting his tongue jam into her mouth. He could feel her teeth grinding against his as he slid her down to the floor and wriggled on top of her. She scooted her ass on the floor until her skirt was hiked around her waist and Arny began to grind down between her thighs. He felt her wet, lipstick-smeared lips sliding over his mouth and her small tongue meeting his, jabbing at it. She started to pull away and Arny began to freeze again, afraid she was going to tell him to stop. Instead, she puckered her mouth into an O and shoved her mouth against his. He opened and she began sucking at his lower lip. He moved his tongue back into her mouth and began to suck on it as he stabbed it in and out of her mouth.
She touched his hand and pulled it up to her breast and pushed it down and around. Arny began to squeeze the mound, pushing and pulling at it. She took his other hand and wedged it between them toward her vagina. He lifted his buttocks up and slid his hand in, meeting the warm, coarse patch of pubic hair. He began to grope roughly at her slit and she pulled away.
"Gently, stud. Gently, Tease it. Play with it, but don't hurt it."
God, Arny thought. This woman's been around. God. Arny couldn't gulp enough air. His body heaved and he gasped as the combination of passion and alcohol overcame him. He let his fingers slide up and down her slit until it was damp with lubrication. Then he peeled back the lips with his thumb and forefinger and inserted a finger. He began to rotate it in the drooling cunny until he found her clitoris. He pushed the dangling appendage to one side and then the other and listened to Beth's groans and squeals. Her mouth was at his ear now, sucking on the lobe, tonguing the canal.
Fumbling for her zipper, Arny tried to pull it down to rid her of her skirt.
"Not here," she whispered, clutching his buttocks in her hands and pulling him to her. "In the bedroom. Let me go in first. Then come in - naked. I'll be there."
She pushed him away, picked up her large purse, and hurried to the bedroom.
Arny watched her ass switching down the hall and listened as she padded up the stairs. God, he thought, this is too much. I'm going out of my mind. It's unreal. Madge flashed into his mind. Hand, he thought. I'll show her. She deserves what I'm going to do. She shouldn't have said that. Arny didn't think of Madge any longer. All he thought of was the bedroom.
Hastily, Beth took the small portable tape recorder out of her purse, turned it on and slipped it under the bed. Then she began to peel off her clothes.
Arny was a boy when it came to sex, she thought. He's got a lot to learn. He's not the handsome type but he'll do. He'll learn to do what we like - that's enough.
Lying naked on the bed, she could hear him breathing heavily outside. "Arny? Are you coming, Arny?" She turned the bed stand light off and waited. The door cracked open and a shaft of light entered, creeping along the floor and up the wall. Arny appeared a second later, his thin frame silhouetted against the wall. Beth felt like laughing. She could see the shadow trembling, see the stiff penis standing out from the boyish body like a hard tongue. He closed the door and she waited in the dark, listening to his heavy breathing as he came closer and closer.
"Arny?"
"Yes'"
"Arny Tillman?"
"Yes?" He was closer, almost touching her.
"Are you going to stick your cock in me, in my cunt?"
"Yes. Goddamnit yes." His hands felt for her body, touching her stomach. He groped up for her breast and squeezed it as he knelt beside her, pushing one knee into her V and grinding it against her vagina.
His mouth pressed down against hers and she felt his sloppy kiss slurp across her face. He reeked of liquor, mouthwash, and after shave lotion. The lotion was all over him, seeping from his groin, his legs, his back. Beth felt like laughing as she imagined him in the bathroom spilling a half bottle onto a washrag and wiping it over his body. But she had to play it straight - all the way until she had him where she wanted him.
She pushed him up and stroked his face in the dark.
"Arny? Have you ever had a woman suck your dick?"
"N-no."
"I'd like to, Arny. I've never sucked a man before, but I'd like to suck yours. Let me, Arny. Let me suck your long, fat cock into my mouth."
"All right," he said softly, leaning back.
"What - what did you say?" Beth asked.
"Suck it. Suck my dick."
He was leaning back on his haunches and trembling when Beth groped and found his cock. She laced her fingers around it and pulled it to her.
"Tell me what it's like, Arny. Tell me what it feels like when I suck it."
She licked around the head and Arny moaned.
"Tell me, Arny. Tell me loudly what it feels like." She put the head between her teeth and bit lightly.
"It's good," he wheezed. "God, it's good."
She sucked in the turgid pole and swallowed, letting its head back against the opening of her throat.
"Oh, Jeezus - it's great. It's like a vacuum. Keep sucking. Suck. Suck my cock." He was screaming and thrusting his hips at her. She had to grab his cock securely to keep it from ramming down her throat and choking her.
"I'm going to come," he hissed. "Pull it out. I'm going to come in your mouth. God! Don't stop. Pull it out. I'm coming - coming!"
Keeping one hand strongly on the cock to keep it from ramming down her throat, Beth let her other hand jiggle his balls. She vibrated them wildly as she felt the jism spurting out. Again he screamed that he was coming, then hunched at her, driving her back down on the bed, his cock still rammed hard in her mouth. She didn't stop playing with his testicles until he had rolled exhausted to one side and lay panting.
There was a long silence as Beth let his cock slide out of her mouth.
"Arny?"
"Yes?" His voice was fatigued.
"Have you ever eaten a woman?"
"No."
"Have you ever sucked on a woman's cunt until she exploded, and screamed and told you she loved you?"
"No."
"Suck my cunt, Arny. Kiss it, lick it, and then suck it, Arny. It will make you hard and then we'll screw until your balls fall off."
CHAPTER SIX
"Go down, Arny," Beth said fondling his balls. "Go down and eat my box, eat it!"
Arny was exhausted and apprehensive. He had never eaten a woman before. The closest to it he had ever come was kissing Madge's stomach one night.
"Down. Go down!"
The words urged him on. He owed Beth something. She was the woman who had sucked his penis and swallowed his semen. She was his first mistress and she was passionate beyond his imagination. But the V of any woman's legs had never enticed him. He thought of the smell and the awkwardness of knowing which hole he was supposed to manipulate.
Beth rubbed him vigorously, pushing at his head, shoving it down. Arny gulped and began to scoot down. He moved down until his face was positioned just below her vagina. He could smell the heady odor of her genitals.
"Lick up my leg, Arny," Beth urged. "Lick all around my legs until you get used to it. Then plunge it. Do it quickly and you'll see it won't bite. It's nice, Arny, once you're there. You'll like it."
He felt the tingling sensation as she massaged his testicles and kissed the inside of his leg. He began to lick at her thigh, letting his tongue gingerly pass around her vagina and over to her other thigh. His senses were becoming used to the aroma and he began to feel brave. He passed by the patch of hair again and this time let his tongue lap around the wet, pliable folds. He tasted the vinegarlike fluid around her vagina, and just as he was about to lift his head, Beth thrust toward him and drove his searching tongue into her vagina. He felt the soft tissues spread as his tongue wiggled around inside. And as Beth shifted, the opening widened, allowed the full length of his tongue to plunge into her. She was arching her hips and squeezing his head with her thighs, saying, "Suck the clit out. Suck my cunt, you beast. You virile beast."
The words excited him and he began to suck on the opening until he felt the titlike clitoris enter his mouth. He grazed it gently with his teeth as he drew it in. Beth arched higher on the bed and quivered. Automatically, he began plunging his tongue in as if it were a penis. Beth screamed and shook and then lay still, moaning softly.
Arny's penis was hard. Beth held it in her hands rolling it between her palms like a pencil. She had his toes in her mouth and sucked on them, licking between them and purring like a cat.
"God, Arny," she lied, "I've never had a man do that to me before like you did. Oh, Arny. Now. Now stick it in me. Screw me."
Excited, Arny turned around and crawled up her body, grabbing her erect tits in his hands and squeezing them. She lifted her legs and arched toward him, guiding his penis into her hole. He felt the slick lips widen as his engorged head pressed between them.
Beth rotated her hips slightly and he felt the shaft slip in, hesitate, and then drive in all the way. Beth moaned and locked her legs around his waist, squeezing him and gyrating. She raked the back of his neck with her fingernails and pulled him into her. He began to buck and twist, lunging to the left and right as she responded to his bursts of speed. He felt his cock straining and mashed his mouth against hers, forgetting that a moment ago she had sucked his penis. Her tongue met his and she began fencing with it and then sucking on it as their tempo increased. Writhing, twisting, thrashing, the two pumped into each other until Beth screamed.
"Deeper, deeper! Ram it in me, Arny Tillman!"
"Slut. Slut!" Arny screamed as he felt the strain of his second orgasm rushing out. "Slut!" As he shouted, visions of Madge appeared in his mind, sweet, innocent, Madge. Madge, who tried to do the things he said; Madge whom he took for granted ... Madge ... Madge ... Madge.
John was standing on the pool table, his legs spread, his cock rigid.
"Come on up here, you little mink," he said to Madge who sat in the corner sobbing. "I'm going to fuck you dog-fashion."
"No," she said softly.
"Pictures, pictures," John taunted. "Hubby won't like that now, will he. Besides, you'll like it."
"Not there," Madge pleaded, looking up at John as he arched his head back and stripped his long, banana-shaped penis.
"Does your hubby ever screw you there?"
"Of course not. Why do you have to talk so filthy?"
"Because. I'm that kind of guy. All nice on the outside, all rotten on the inside. Now get up here you silly little bitch or I guarantee your husband and his boss and your mother will all get copies of the pictures - anonymously, by the way."
"But your picture will be there. They'll know it was you." It was a chance, a hope, and she clung to it.
"My face was buried in your cunt. But my body showed, and I'll bet your mother would know the difference between your husband's body and mine. Now, you don't have much choice. Getting it from the rear isn't so bad. Hubby will never know."
John grinned and curled his lips back as he laughed. Beth saw flashes of her mother's face looking at the pictures. She wouldn't be able to lie. She'd have to say she had let him do it. She'd have to admit it. And Arny - God, if Arny saw them - or his boss.... Reluctantly, she rose from the couch and went to John. He pulled her up on the table and kissed her. She was cold and lifeless in his arms.
"Part of the deal is being warm and cuddly too, Madge, baby. So you better put some life into it."
She hated him. She hated Beth. She hated herself. She felt cheap and vulgar.
"Bend over and spread your cheeks, baby, I'm coming through."
God, she thought, how vile. How beautiful sex could be, and then how ugly. Sobbing, she bent over.
John reached under her and clutched her swaying, firm tits. He began milking them, pulling them down and squeezing the nipples until they began to harden. He let his cock seesaw across her cunt, pressing its length against Madge's cuntlips. He was in no hurry. He'd spend the time warming her up. Back and forth, back and forth, his groin slapped against her soft ass. She had stopped sobbing and he listened intently as he heard her regular breathing begin to quicken. He began to lick the small of her back, nipping at the flesh until he felt the goose bumps forming little ridges over her flesh. She was breathing hard and her nipples were stiff as he rolled them between his fingers, pulling on them, pinching them.
Madge hated herself. She could feel her body giving in. She could feel the tingling, prickling sensation as it spread over her body. Uncontrollably, she began to moan as she felt his fingers manipulating her nipples, pulling on them and twisting them. She felt his penis sliding along her slit and her body quivered, her knees felt weak, the blood rushed from her head. She winced when she felt him rest the long, upturned penis against her asshole. She was repulsed and excited as he began to gyrate his hips, nudging the prick against the tiny, constricted orifice that guarded her bowels.
"Oooohh," she moaned as he pushed it in slightly. He halted and gyrated his hips again, accustoming her to the bizarre sensation. He inched in again and she replied with another moan. He halted and began to move his hips back and forth as she felt the tissue stretching.
"See? I'm not out to rip you apart, Madge, baby. I don't want to hurt you. Just relax. Enjoy the ride."
Madge bit her lip and placed her hands on her knees, John's arms were wrapped around her waist, helping to hold her up.
"We're going all the way, baby," John crooned. "All the way. Stand by."
Madge braced herself as she felt the staff push in deeper and deeper. She felt as if she had to go to the bathroom. There was a stinging pain as he drove himself in all the way, and Madge howled. Her legs shook as he began to pump back and forth.
"Work with me, bitch," John hissed, his hands cruelly clutching her breasts and kneading them. "Work with me." The pain began to ebb and the filling sensation slackened. Tears running down her face, Madge began to meet his thrusts by jerking her buttocks back. She listened to the slap, slap of their flesh as they met and recoiled.
"Screw, bitch. Screw. Say something. Tell me how good it feels."
"Bas-tard," she spat. "You rot-ten - umph - bas-tard."
"Tell me you like it," he commanded, squeezing her breasts and ramming harshly into her. The pain returned and Madge cried out. It ebbed more quickly this time.
"Tell me!"
Excitement replaced repulsion. Madge began to feel the erotic sensation of the act. She began to thrust earnestly as John drove into her. She began to whimper and her hands slipped down to touch his.
"Flesh," he chanted. "The touch of flesh. Feel it, listen to it, smell it."
Madge listened and smelled and touched. She began to shake her head, letting her hair swish back and forth across her shoulders. Her ass was driving as wildly against him as he was ramming into her.
"Deeper," she whispered. "Deeper. Kill me. Kill me."
"That would be too easy," John laughed as he drove the prick into her to the hilt. "That would be too easy."
"It's good. It's good." She didn't want to say what he wanted to hear. The unspoken words came tumbling from her vagina not her mouth. She hated him, but she wanted him. She never wanted him to stop.
As he rammed into her, he took one of his hands and curled her fist, making an O. Then he extended his middle finger and, as his cock rammed into her, he screwed her curled fingers with his own.
Madge panted and clutched at his middle finger, squeezing it as it slid in and out in a mockery of seduction. She could feel the orgasm coming. It began to thunder in her bowels and then roared through her.
"I'm coming!" she shouted. "I'm coming...."
John pumped madly into her as she screamed. She felt his cock harden inside her and then lunged back desperately as she felt the first hot gush of semen splash into her. Again and again she threw herself back and clenched her buttocks as she felt the sperm filling her like a foul enema. Exhausted, they fell to the tabletop and lay panting, stroking one another - forgetting for the moment they were wolf and sheep.
Beth and Arny lay quietly, smoking cigarettes. Occasionally, Arny would reach out and caress Beth's tempting body and think back about the things they had done. Had he not been so exhausted, he would have tried to mount her another time, but it was all he could do to lift his arm and drag off the cigarette.
"Arny?"
"Yes."
"Tell me something dirty about your boss - what's his name?"
"Mr. Cullen?"
"Yes, Mr. Cullen."
"What the hell for, Beth?"
"Would you believe I get my kicks that way too, hearing about bosses. Tell me something about him, something really ugly and sexy."
"Hell, I don't know."
"Make something up, anything." Beth shivered and snuggled up close to him. "You're smart, you've got an imagination. Come on."
Arny was silent for a moment. Smart. Imaginative. "How about - he sucks little boys' cocks."
"That's a good start. Now," she snuggled closer, "something really bad, really ugly."
Silence.
"I got it."
"Tell me."
"His wife fucks old men with syphilis."
"Good. Now something really rotten."
"God, Beth, this is too, much. Do I have to?"
She whined.
"All right. He eats shit for breakfast, drinks piss for lunch, and eats dead bodies for dinner."
"Great."
They lay silently, listening to each other's breathing. Arny's mind recalled the evening. He saw Beth's face at the door, her toothy smile, her tight sweater clinging to her firm, pointed breasts. He could feel her hand on his thigh, and her breath against his ear asking him for a kiss. He could feel her vagina sucking at his penis, twitching like a mouth as it worked over his pole. There was a world of difference between Madge and Beth. He had never known a woman like Beth. He had never felt himself so compelled to act like an animal in her practiced arms.
Madge was different. She was nice. That's why he had married her. She was nice and innocent. He'd never thought of her as a sexual partner, just as a wife; someone to be around when he wanted to talk, someone to do the cooking, someone to have intercourse with. But Beth. Beth was something else again. She purred like a kitten. Her every move suggestive, her every action passionate. She was not a wife, she was an animal; a lusty, unquenchable beast.
"Arny?"
"Yes?"
"Penny."
"Penny?"
"For your thoughts."
"I was thinking about you - and about -"
"Madge?"
"Yes."
"Do you love her?"
"I think so."
"Do you love me."
"I don't know."
"Do you love me when we fuck?
"Beth, I don't-"
"I love your cock, Arny. I love its smell, its taste, its -"
"Beth-I-"
"Tell me, Arny. Am I better than Madge?"
"Beth, please, I -"
"Does Madge twitch and rake her heels along your back? Does she bite your neck and pull at the hair on your neck? Does she play with your asshole?"
"Beth!"
"Tell me, Arny. I have to know. I want to know."
"I'd rather not."
"Tell me, damnit. You seduced me in your wife's bed so I must be better than she. Tell me." Her voice was commanding, cold, piercing.
"Yes, Beth," Arny said reluctantly, ashamed of himself for saying it. "You're better than Madge."
"How much better?" Again the coldness rimmed her voice. "Is my cunt better?"
"Yes."
"Say it!"
"Your cunt is better."
"Better than whose?"
"Better than Madge's. God, Beth, do we have to talk like this?" He turned to look at her.
"Yes," she hissed, digging her fingernails into his back and pulling him against her breasts. I have to hear it, Arny. I have to know I wasn't just a lay. I have to know I was better than the woman you married. Otherwise I'm a slut, Arny. A cheap slut. I don't want to be. You loved me when you screwed me, when you sucked me. Don't deny me now when it's all over.
Arny shifted, letting his hand rub along Beth's side, filing her cool skin skid under his palm.
"You're right, Beth. I'm sorry. Its just....
"Just tell me, Arny. Just tell me how much better a fuck I am than Madge. Don't think about it, just talk.
Arny talked, hesitantly at first, but then more and more fluidly. He began to tell Beth everything about Madge's sexual habits, conjuring up scenes that had never taken place but telling her about them anyway. As he talked in the dark, Beth smiled and the recorder noiselessly captured it all on its innocent, rust-colored tape.
"You're good, Madge. You turn on like a schoolgirl who's been wanting to fuck all semester but didn't have the guts.
John sat naked on the sofa eyeing the slim woman who lay sobbing on the pool table.
"Crying won't help, love," John cooed, sipping a drink. "Just keep a stiff upper lip. We're really your friends. That little buggering didn't hurt you now, did it?"
Silence.
"Well, there's more where that came from," John snarled, his friendly voice disappearing. "And the tougher you make it on us the tougher it will be on you. Now get your sweet ass up and come upstairs."
He stood and grabbed her forcefully by the arm and led her up the stairs. He watched her naked buttocks jiggling in front of him and couldn't resist goosing her.
"Umph."
"Everything with a hole is fair game," he said, jabbing her lightly again. "Even your nose, baby. Even your nose."
Madge stumbled into the living room ahead of him.
"I want to wash up," she said coldly as she felt the sticky semen clinging to her thighs and buttocks.
"Down the hall to the left. We use a whirlpool, baby. It'll turn you on, all that water sloshing around your twat." He laughed. "Go ahead. And don't bother dressing. We still have a long night ahead of us."
Madge weaved down the hall. It was all like a long, interminable nightmare to her. Nothing seemed real, nothing seemed logical. Hours ago everything was so normal, so standard, so pleasant. Now everything had a foul odor to it. Everything she touched made her cringe and despise herself for what she allowed to happen. Every thought that came into her mind was bracketed by some sexual act she had either performed or imagined she was going to have to perform.
The people had her in their grasp and they were squeezing her like bread dough, watching her ooze out the ends of their palms, between their fingers. And she didn't have anywhere to turn. She couldn't tell Arny - oh, God, if he found out.... The police? They were out of the question. She was sure Beth and John had some scheme to send the photos to Arny and her mother and his boss. They were right. All they wanted was her body, all they wanted was her flesh. No one would ever know unless she told them. But she would know. She would know every time she saw them or felt their presence.
She flicked the switch on and the bathroom was washed in the icy whiteness from the bright fluorescent lights. The lights splashed off the turquoise tile set in checkerboard fashion around a sunken tub of swirling water. Cautiously, she bent over and felt the water. It was warm and soothing and she slipped into it, feeling the current washing around her body in its endless merry-go-round existence. Settling back against the pool's sloping sides, she leaned her head back and tried to relax. Her muscles lost their tautness and her eyelids began to droop.
Then she heard a noise and sat upright. Silence. She remembered where she was and what she was doing. The nightmare was real and horribly ugly. Looking around, she found a bar of soap and began rubbing it over her body. It felt good sliding across her soft stomach, around her waist, up between her pert breasts, down against the semen-flecked thighs, under to the sore buttocks, back up around the vagina. The soap felt good; it was ridding her of the nightmare. She prayed that when she had scrubbed every inch of her flesh she would forget everything and wake up in her own bed next to Arny.
The noise again.
She started to speak but caught herself, deciding that anything she might say might bring John in. She didn't want to see him - she was sick of him and Beth and the whole unbelievable situation.
"You better hurry up or I'll come in there and get you."
Madge scrubbed herself quickly and stepped out of the bath to towel herself as John walked in with a drink in one hand and his still penis in the other.
"Doesn't that water turn you on, baby? I bet you finger-fucked yourself in there, you took so long." His heavy brows raised as he stroked his penis. "I thought I might make a formal invitation to you now before I forget. You are cordially invited to bring your husband over for dinner tomorrow night - and if you don't...."
Madge gasped. God, no. How could she!
"Don't look so shocked, honey. We'll just pretend we said a fleeting hello and good-bye. Act straight, and hubby will never know. But do show up. I'd hate to spend all that money on stamps so soon."
He sat the glass down and moved toward her, his upturned penis wagging in front of him.
"Come to the house tomorrow for dinner Arny."
Arny sat on the bed with one foot half into his trouser leg.
"What? God, Beth, how could we?"
"Easy. Just be there at eight."
"But, what if we look at each other wrong - or -"
"For God's sake, Arny. It would look more ridiculous if you didn't come. And more suspicious. Look, we're neighbors aren't we. We should be seeing some of each other. Just play it cool. Act normal. Look at me, but don't look embarrassed. Anyway, I've already invited Madge. She said she wanted to repay me someway for my kindness. I told her to come for dinner. Oh, Arny. I have to see you again anyway. I've never felt tins way with another man, not even my husband."
She pulled his face to hers and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Tell me you'll come. Please?"
"All right. All right. But, Beth-"
"Yes."
"Let's try not to let this happen again. I'm - I'm sorry!--"
"Oh, Arny, I know," she said, pulling his head into her still-naked breasts. "It's wrong. I'll try and fight it too."
"Thanks, Beth," Arny said, feeling ashamed, embarrassed. "But I still love Madge, honest. I like you - don't get me wrong - but I...."
"Don't apologize, Arny. I think everything will work out best for everyone."
Arny looked at her quizzically. She had a thin, knowing smile etched on her beautiful face -a disturbing smile. Having pulled on his trousers, Arny went to the bathroom, unaware of Beth as she pulled the recorder from under the bed and slipped it surreptitiously into her large purse.
"I'm leaving, Arny," she said, standing at the door and blowing a kiss at him. "Thank you. Thank you for being so helpful." She hurried down the stairs and out the door.
"Beth-Beth?"
He'd wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her just one more time. He'd made the decision never to let this happen again. He didn't want to risk his future life with a troublesome affair. He wanted her to understand. But she was gone.
Arny went downstairs and cleaned up the mess of snubbed cigarettes and liquor-filled glasses. He stuffed the bottle back into the cabinet and vowed never to touch the stuff again. He'd become a teetotaler, to hell with what the others said. He'd serve drinks at home to guests but he'd never touch the stuff again. He'd already made one terrible mistake and didn't want to compound it.
He wearily climbed the stairs and got ready for bed. Slipping between the sheets, he smelled Beth's seductive perfume. He'd change the sheets in the morning before Madge got back. But the rest of the night he'd lie there smelling the last, lingering odor of his temporary mistress.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Madge sat in the house waiting for Arny.
Beth had come back the night before and had taken John to the side, whispering and giggling. Then the three had lain in bed, with John caressing them both, talking about the shapes of the two women's bodies. In the morning, after making sure Arny had left, they allowed her to leave, reminding her that if she didn't come to dinner that night the pictures would be sent.
She had agreed.
Now, pulling at her fingers and biting the lipstick off her lips, she nervously awaited the arrival of her husband.
She heard the car pull up, the door slam, and the screen door squeak open. It was part of the ritual she went through every night. In a moment Arny would appear in the doorway, with his shoulders sloping, his valise dangling from his tired fingertips.
Madge had a sudden desire to rush to him, to clutch him and tell him the whole sordid story. But as the door opened, she just stood transfixed a few feet away, wringing her hands.
"Hello," she said forcing a smile.
"Hello."
They stood like two strangers looking at one another, trying to place where they had seen each other before.
"I'm sorry about last night," Madge finally said. "I was foolish."
The tension slackened, Arny closed the door and set his valise down instead of sliding it down the hall. He shrugged out of his coat, feeling embarrassed and ashamed, wishing he had the guts to confess what he had done the previous night and get it off his chest. It had eaten at him all day.
"I wasn't very fair," Arny said, walking to the closet and hanging his coat up. "I said the wrong things at the wrong time. I'm sorry."
"Oh, Arny," Madge ran to him, tears welling in her eyes. She sobbed and pressed her wet face against his chest as she felt his reassuring arms wrap around her and pull her to him. "Arny?" She looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red.
"Yes?"
"I love you." Her lips trembled as she spoke. She wanted to cry out the details of last night, to spill out the anger and frustration trapped in her living nightmare.
"Oh, Madge. I love you, too."
Arny found himself nibbling at her ear, rubbing her back and pressing his groin against her stomach. He needed her body against his to reinstate his feelings -he needed to apologize sexually for what he had done without having to say it in the clumsy realm of words. He had to communicate to her what he had despoiled last night when he debased her with Beth. His mind roiled as his hands caressed more of Madge's body. She was feeling a similar sensation. Arny rarely had time for passion and she was thankful that now was one of those times. She needed him to hold her, to be rough with her, to spill his semen in her womb. She needed to hear him moan and take part in giving him relief as well as emotion.
"Darling, darling," Arny said as he kissed her cheek, her nose, her lips. His tongue snaked out and flicked at her lower Up. She responded, fencing with him as he leaned down and scooped her up into his arms. As they kissed long and roughly, Arny maneuvered Madge up the stairs toward the bedroom.
Madge was breathing raggedly by the time Arny laid her gently on the bed and wedged his way between her legs. She licked her lips and pulled his head down onto her mouth as she wriggled under him, driving her pelvis against his groin.
"Oh, Madge. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Arny said the words slowly as he reached down and grasped Madge's V, squeezing the lips gently between his thumb and forefinger until he could feel the nubbin rolling under the weight of his fingers.
"Oh, Arny, Arny. Make love to me - how."
Guilt spurring him, Arny yanked at the top of her dress, popping two of the buttons.
"Rip it off me, Arny. Rip it." Madge was moaning, her head lolling from side to side. Her sensitive genitals were burning with desire and she thought she couldn't stand the hunger another moment. The things she had learned the previous night all seemed to come back and haunt her. She could feel her buttocks twitching as they received John's long, tilted phallus; she could sense his tongue laving her clitoris, nipping at it.
Arny shoved his hand down the front of her dress and yanked. Madge could feel the seams giving and pinching into her arms as the dress ripped down the front. Arny was sitting on her stomach, his eyes wide, his hands furiously shredding away the material until the front of her was bare except for panties and bra.
"Rip them off, Arny. Hurry."
He snorted, and yanked at the tough bra material. It didn't give. He yanked again and Madge moaned as the elastic cut under her arms.
Hurriedly, she arched her back and unsnapped the bra. Arny grabbed the loose material and yanked, snapping the straps and pulling it off her. He slid down to her knees and pulled at the panties until they ripped apart, leaving only a thin elastic band pinching her waist.
"Now, Arny. Now."
Unconsciously, Madge let her hands slide up her waist and begin massaging her breasts while Arny quickly fumbled to loosen his trousers. She moaned and thrashed her head from side to side.
Arny looked down at her as if she were a different person from the wife he had cheated on last night. Passion was written over her from head to foot, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were glazed. Maybe it was the fight, he thought. They'd never really had one. Maybe that's all they needed to trigger themselves.
He unhooked the catch, unzipped the fly, and crawled out of the burdensome cloth. Yanking his shirt off, he threw it in the corner and pressed his naked, hairless chest against Madge's. He trapped her hands on her breasts with his own, and taking her small fingers in his, he helped her knead her own flesh as he craned his neck to watch. It was the most exciting thing he had ever done with his wife.
"Oh, Madge. Madge." He let his tongue slip out and into her ear, probing in it like a snake in a cave.
"Arny. Hold me. Fill me with love, Arny."
She reached down and he felt her fingers curl around his staff. Her cool, slender fingers. God, it was such a sensation, like wrapping four cold strips of bacon around your wrist, Arny thought. She's never touched me there before. Never. "Squeeze it," he said hoarsely into her ear. "Squeeze it."
Madge needed no instruction. Flashes of her bouts with John clicked across her memory like slides from a projector. But she knew this wasn't John's penis, it was her husband's.
Squeezing it and stripping it, she guided its bulging head toward her wet vagina. She pressed it against her slit and rubbed it around in slow circles as John had told her to do to him the night before.
"In," Arny said. "Put it in."
He sucked at her breasts, yanking them up and twirling the nipples with his fingers until they were spiked. He rotated his hips and began to screw in his cock shaft. As he shoved it in gently he felt her hands creep up to the cheeks of his ass and begin to pull him in. He paused, and then drove down with all his weight, feeling the soft flesh yielding and smothering his long, throbbing penis. Her fingers were digging into the soft meat of his ass as he humped into her. Her thrusts were synchronized with his so that as he banged down, she lunged up and wriggled, sending shivers up and down his spine.
He had never known her like this, and now, under him, she was suddenly as passionate and lusty as Beth had been the other night. Her flesh was no longer passive or hesitant, it was tingling, electrified, contagious. He could hear her gasping and moaning, feel her vaginal muscles contracting and relaxing around his sensitive penis. It was unbelievable to him.
"Deeper, deeper," she moaned, letting her hands fall to the bedspread and balling them into fists as he smashed deeper and deeper into her. "Fuck me, Arny. Fuck me."
Arny almost stopped. He'd never heard her use that word. It spurred him on. He clutched her cheeks with his hands and yanked her savagely to his groin, feeling her mons smash against him. Again and again he whacked into her until he felt her tensing, her buttocks tightening, her face knotting.
"Ummph," she uttered as he began pistoning into her.
"Are you ready?" he asked, yanking her up, pushing her back.
"Yes. Yes. Fuck me, fuck me hard."
He dropped her to the bed and let his weight press against her as he plumbed madly into her. She threw her legs around his waist, dug her fingernails in his back, and screamed as she shivered and shuddered.
Madge's insides were exploding. She was raw and sore from the sexual feast the night before and Arny's angry passion now. Her climax was mixed with the flooding sensation of relief and the searing, piercing sensation of pain. Holding Arny in her deathlike grasp, she let out a long, shrilly scream which Arny muffled by pressing his mouth down over hers and jabbing his tongue into her.
"Oh, God, that was good," Arny said, stroking her sweating forehead and kissing her eyelids. "Where have we been all our lives, Madge?"
His pretty wife looked up at him dreamily. A satisfied, contented look swept over her face as she let her fingernail run the length of his shoulder. She never wanted to leave the bed. She wanted to hold him forever; as far as she was concerned, this man above her was the Arny she had always imagined. He was the sexy, rough beast who took her when and where he pleased. And her job was to make him happy and to keep him happy.
Then her euphoria shattered.
"What did you have planned tonight, dear?"
Tonight - oh, God, no! she thought. Not tonight.
"We were invited someplace, but I...."'
"Where?" Arny's voice was curt. The atmosphere in the room suddenly seemed gloomy.
"To the Hallmans'," Madge whispered, trying to control her shaky voice.
"Who are the Hallmans?" Arny asked, trying to sound casual. He didn't want to get trapped and have to tell her he already knew Beth.
"The - the people across the street. I stayed with them last night. They asked us to -"
"You stayed with them? But I...." Arny let the words trail off into the oppressive silence. How could she have stayed with them? She was supposed to have been at Beth's queer aunt's house.
"What did you say?" Madge asked looking curiously at him.
"I -I thought you stayed at a motel or something. I didn't think the neighbors knew." He forced his guilty voice to sound disconcerted about the idea of the neighbors knowing. It didn't come off.
"We have to go. I promised," Madge said finally, turning her back and looking at the blank wall.
Arny could feel the tension growing. It was like the atmosphere before a storm - oppressive, malevolent. "How do we dress?" he asked, his voice resigned to the situation that lay ahead.
"Simply," Madge said coolly. "Simply. We won't stay long."
"Madge, dear. And this must be Arny?"
Beth stood ushering the nervous couple into the foyer. She was dressed in multicolored hostess culottes with bellbottom legs that whipped out around her trim ankles. Her hair was swirled up around her head in a flowing line that started from her left ear and wound its way to a crown of auburn hair constructed at the peak of her head.
Madge nodded her recognition and then let her eyes fall to the floor. Arny shifted from one foot to the other, a sheepish look plastered on his face.
"I'm Arny," he said lightly, waving at John who was negotiating the two steps up from the sunken living room. He carried a trayful of drinks and wore an innocuous, affable smile.
"I'd shake, neighbor, but I don't think we'd enjoy sucking up the drinks from the rug." He and Beth laughed. Madge glanced at John, her eyes cold and hateful.
"Glad to see you again, Mrs. Tillman," John said casually, proffering the tray of drinks to her. "I hope you slept well last night?"
Her hand trembled from anger; but Madge forced a smile on her face. "Not as well as I would have liked," she said flatly, sipping the cool refreshment.
John wheeled expertly on his heel and faced Arny. "Pick one, old man, they're all the same."
"Sorry," Arny waved his hand. "I've sworn off. I'll just have a Coke or something." He glanced at Beth furtively and ran his fingers under his collar as he shifted his weight from one nervous leg to the other.
"Oh, Arny," Beth said, cooing up to him and hanging on his arm as she pressed her breast imperceptibly against his arm. "Please have a few social drinks with us. You'll make us all feel so bad."
"No, I...." He glanced at Madge, who stood wide-eyed looking at Beth clinging to him. "I -"
Puckering her red, sensual lips up at him, Beth pressed harder and said, "Please, Arny?"
"All right. All right." Arny leaned back, trying to break Beth's contact.
"Good. Now we're all alike," Beth said, releasing her grip on him. "Come into the living room and sit down. We'll eat in a few moments."
"Play pool?" John asked, placing a firm hand on Arny's slouching back as Beth took Madge's arm and guided her down the steps and into the plush living room.
"Some. I'm not very good at it," Arny confessed, feeling his feet sink into the rich carpeting. The room was opulent. The dark Mediterranean furniture sat low and sleek on the bright red carpet, dully shining in the subdued luminescence of indirect lighting. Soft music seeped from the loudspeakers spaced around the house in corners and nooks. A small gas fire flickered in an L-shaped corner of the room.
"Very nice," Arny said, standing in the center of the room and turning around viewing the tasteful surroundings. "It's like a palace in here."
"Just some thrifty decorating," Beth said, patting the roomy couch beside her. "Sit down and relax."
Pretending he didn't notice her invitation, he settled down in an overstuffed armchair and tasted his drink. It was good and it helped him relax. He needed the composure to get through this evening.
"A little later well have to try our-hand at pool, Arny," John said, crossing his hulking legs. "I've got a table downstairs and some very interesting adaptations to the regular game."
"Yes," Arny said, soaking in the room again with his eyes. "I'd tike that."
"How about you, Mrs. Tillman - Madge - do you ever play pool?"
"I hate pool," Madge snapped, sitting erectly on the edge of the couch next to Beth.
"That's odd," Arny said, looking at his wife's angry face. "We played before and you seemed to like it all right then."
"I've changed my mind," she snapped coolly, looking at the clear fluid in her glass.
"Women. Never can predict what they're going to do next." His laugh was hollow. Everyone looked curiously at him.
"Well, how's the junior executive business?" John said, staring into Arny's eyes. Without meeting his stare Arny answered, talking lightly about the company and its product.
"Madge was telling us the other night that you do a lot of homework," John said, drawing heavily from his drink.
"Yes. Yes. Got to keep up on things." Arny squeezed the cool glass nervously. Everyone watched him.
"Have to work late a lot?"
"Sometimes." Arny tugged at his collar again.
"Wouldn't be fooling around with a woman on the side, would you?"
Arny jerked up and stared at John. The man sat coolly, leaning back in his chair and watching.
"Of course not," Arny blurted, looking at Madge. His wife's mouth was set and her jaws were clamped tightly. She stared at John.
"Just kidding," John said. "You know the way things are today. Everyone seems to be playing around with everyone else. What do you think about it all, Mrs. Tillman - Madge?"
"I think those people are sick. I think they're perverted. They're vulgar beasts."
"You sound bitter, Madge," Beth said, placing a friendly hand on Madge's shoulder. Madge shrugged and cringed at Beth's touch.
"I'm really not feeling well," Madge said, setting her drink down. "I think we'd better go.
"Oh, no -you couldn't. I've cooked a wonderful supper. I must insist. Stay!" Madge felt the commanding tone and sank back down on the couch.
"Maybe we better -"
"Now, now," Beth interrupted. "Madge is feeling better, aren't you dear," Beth said, cupping Madge's sour face in her hands and looking at it. "You better straighten up, bitch, or you'll be sorry," she whispered as she smiled at the angered woman.
"Honey?" Arny half-rose, his drink leaning dangerously forward. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Sit down before you spill your drink." Madge felt trapped and infuriated. She had to control herself or she would stand and spit on them and march Arny home to tell him the whole, ugly story. He'd understand. He'd have to understand.
"Well, let's eat and then shoot some pool," John said, saluting with his drained glass. They rose after him and headed mechanically for the dining room table.
"I hope you like stew," Beth said, settling in her chair between Madge and Arny and across from her husband. "Oysters are prime this time of year and it's our favorite specialty. Help yourself." She smiled affably as the couple stared blankly at her. "John and I are having raw eggs, dashed with oodles of Tabasco sauce. If you haven't tried it, you really should." She plucked up a raw egg and drove a pencil-shaped tapper into the egg's end. Both Madge and Arny watched fascinated as the woman widened the hole, then sprinkled the red sauce into it.
John did the same.
"To our new friends," Beth toasted, holding the raw, spiced egg up toward John's. She tossed her head back, thrusting out her breasts as she did, and tilted the egg a few inches above her face. Slowly, the viscous, clear white of the egg, mottled by the red sauce, oozed out in a long, stream toward her open mouth and protruding tongue. John aped the scene from his end of the table.
As the slick, slimy liquid began to roll down her tongue, Beth licked around the thread of sticky gunk as if it were a long piece of spaghetti.
Arny sat agog, watching the obscene act he suspected was being done especially for him.
Yet, John was doing it too.... The couple seemed to be acting out a ritual, a disturbing rite that made Arny shift uneasily in his chair.
Madge hated them both. She knew what they were doing. They were taunting her, they were trying to make her bolt away and cry - it was a test to see how much she could take. She could take it. She knew she could. She loved Arny. That meant everything to her. These wretched people couldn't hurt her, not if she clung to Arny, not if she had his arms to fall into, to hold her, to soothe her and soak up her tears.
The yolk was coming. It bulged out of the tiny hole like a teardrop and then oozed down, its bright yellow streaked with Tabasco. Some of the glistening egg white ran down the corners of Beth's mouth. Arny felt his loins stir as he thought of the night before when her lips had suckled at his stiff cock and his sperm had shot into her gulping mouth. He pulled at his collar and loosened his tie as the last drop of the egg slid down Beth's throat.
"You really should try it sometime," Beth said, wiping her glistening lips. "It's a wonderful primer."
"I'm sure it is," Madge said sarcastically, spooning into her oyster stew.
"Delicious," John said, wiping his mouth with his arm. "Best eggs I've had in a long time. How about you, Arny. Think you'd like to try?" He held out an egg.
"No. No thanks." Arny held up his hands and cocked his head to the side. "I'll stick to the stew. It's very good, Mrs. Hallman." He turned and smiled at her.
"You can call me Beth, Arny. Any man who watches me eat an egg that way can call me by my first name." Cattily, she looked at Madge whose eyes were burning into her. "How do you like the soup, Madge, honey?"
"It's filling," Madge answered, making a loud slurping sound that embarrassed Arny.
"She likes it. She likes it," John said, mocking her slurps. "Any woman who can attack something like that, must have a real passion for soup. Just listen to those lips smack."
Arny shifted uneasily in his chair. Something was screwy with the whole bit. It wasn't just him and Beth. It was a game they all seemed to be playing, some cat and mouse bit and he didn't know the rules. Arny shook his head and thought about it, resolving that he might be just edgy and paranoiac. It was probably just his imagination and he was reading all the other signs into it.
The spoon was halfway to his mouth when he dropped it. It clattered down, splashing into the milk-white soup.
"Butterfingers," Beth said, flashing her eyes at him. Madge glared at the woman.
"Fingers are oily," Arny said, blushing. It wasn't oily fingers and Beth knew it. She had jabbed her foot between his thighs and kicked lightly at his testicles. Her foot was still there, prying at his balls, trying to worm its way under his leg to his buttocks. He turned toward her and tried to glare. She smiled and jiggled her toes against his groin. He dropped his gaze to the soup and began shoveling it in quickly. Even though his wife was sitting an arm's reach away and the woman's husband was even closer, Arny couldn't control the erection. His cock was becoming stiffer and stiffer. He shoved the napkin down and tried to push her foot away. No dice.
Madge's eyes were cast down and she fumbled with her napkin. John's hand was rubbing up her thigh as he sat looking as if he were only eating soup. Madge moved her hand to his and tried to push him away. His steellike fingers gripped her thigh and she almost cried out in pain. Even though she cringed at his touch, there was something powerfully exciting about his right hand on her leg. She hated herself for even feeling that way, but she couldn't stop the warm glow that ebbed through her as she clandestinely struggled to rid herself of the man's intruding hand.
Beth was rubbing her stockinged foot up Arny's pant leg, occasionally reaching for the salt, and tugging lightly at his middle finger. It was a dangerous act and Arny lost his erection as he studied Madge's soup-turned face. If she looked up just once... just once when Beth was touching him....
"Let's all have an after-dinner drink down in the basement. We can shoot a game of pool and call it an evening. Anyone object?" John looked at his guests, his left eyebrow cocked.
Arny and Madge both started to speak, but both fell silent without uttering a word of protest. They stood mechanically and followed John down the stairs.
"Nice, huh?" John said, walking around the table and dragging his finger along the edge.
"Very nice," Arny answered, admiring the heavy green felt. "I bet that cost."
"Not more than a good fuck," John said, slipping behind Madge and pulling her to him.
Arny froze, Unable to believe what he saw and heard. Beth was behind him, her arms slipping around his waist and cupping his balls.
"Pool tables are as expensive as a good fuck," she said huskily, squeezing the amazed man's penis.
Madge said nothing. She stood, letting John's rough hands massage her as the shock set in.
"I think we better lay our cards on the table," Beth said finally. "You, Madge, Arny. Get naked!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
Arny tried to pry Beth's fingers from his groin. His face was flushed and his fists were balled into tight knots as he watched John's hands squeezing Madge's breasts.
"What the hell? Are you crazy?" he shouted, heaving forward and releasing himself from Beth's taunting grip.
"Whoa, stud!" Beth said, grabbing him by the arm. "You wouldn't want Madge to know you fucked me last night, would you?"
Her face drained of its color, Madge looked at Arny. "You didn't," she blurted, her hands pushing away John's. "You didn't."
Arny's head dropped so his chin rested against his chest.
"He did, my dear," Beth said, walking to the highly polished console stereo and flipping a switch. The instrument hummed. "And this is what he had to say about you."
Arny winced as he heard his voice crackle and then resonate throughout the room as he told Beth how much better a screw she was than Madge. The tape played through the tension, blaring Arny's passionate words as he seduced Beth.
"Shut it off! Shut it off!" Madge sobbed, covering her face with her hands.
"And you would be interested in these, Arny, lover," Beth said over the din of the tape recording. Haughtily, she marched to a small, metal file beside the stereo and returned with a handful of photos.
"Yes, Arny," John said, leaning back against the pool table and folding his arms. "Your wife fucks like a mink when a strange dick is in her." He laughed.
"Look!" Beth commanded, pulling Arny by the arm to the pool table where the pictures were spread in an even row. "Look at your hotpants of a wife."
Arny hesitated for a moment, then compulsively moved toward the dossier spread out on the verdant tabletop. His eyes widened as he scanned the Polaroid pictures. He couldn't believe what he saw; his wife lying rapturously on the sofa with John's penis in her mouth and his head buried in her V.
Snarling, he swung around with the pictures scooped in his hands and yelled, "I'm going to take these pictures and that tape and my wife and get the hell out of here. You're a couple of perverts." He moved toward the stereo.
"I wouldn't advise that," John said, unfolding his arms casually and staring at the enraged man. His muscles tensed and his voice pierced the room's charged atmosphere. "We have another set of tapes and pictures. They're all bundled up in envelopes ready to be mailed to your wife's mother and your boss. Now, if you want to challenge us, go ahead and walk out. But, just so you know the score, the pictures will be made public and the tapes should burn your boss's ears off."
Arny stopped and mashed the pictures angrily in his fists. His mind was confused.
"What do you want from us?" he asked quietly, his teeth clenched together. He stood facing the stereo, afraid to turn and look into Madge's eyes.
"Just your flesh - a few good times every now and then. No money. No crime. Just some good times, some good fucks, the way we like them." Beth was speaking softly as she moved up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her large, firm breasts into his back. "We're not criminals, Arny. We just like young people like you and your wife. All we want is some friendship, some sexual friendship."
"And if we don't go along?"
"The pictures, the tapes, Arny. They'll go out in the mail. They tell it like it is. Your wife is screwing another man, you're screwing another woman. And the way you talked about your boss.... Now, what do you think he'll do? Do you think he'll let it pass? Do you think hell just forget it if you tell him the whole story? Do you think he'll recommend you for another job?"
Arny said nothing. His knuckles whitened as they squeezed around the crumpled pictures in his fist.
"All we want is for you two to enjoy our bodies. We enjoy yours. You just do what, we want to do, without any reservations, and well have a gay time. And," the woman's voice was cold and chilling, "if anything happens to us - you know, we die in an odd way that doesn't look right? - we have a friend who will send the pictures and tapes. So, don't think of any hanky-panky, Arny. Just think of free sex, anyway, anytime you want it."
"Give me a minute with my wife," he said sullenly.
"Sure, Arny," John said casually. "Anything you want. Talk it over, see what you both think. But you don't have much choice. None at all, really."
They stood looking at each other, their eyes downcast, the room filled with silence.
"I'm sorry, Madge," Arny finally said, his soft voice cutting through the thick, oppressive silence.
"What do we have to be sorry for?" Madge replied, sinking down on the couch and holding her temples with her palms. "We did it, it's over, and now we're stuck."
Arny moved gingerly over to her and sat beside her, putting his arm around her shoulder.
"Don't."
"Do you hate me?"
"I don't know. I don't-" Sobbing, she fell into his arms and buried her head in the crook of his neck. "They're brutes, Arny. Beasts. They made me do things I didn't want to do. Awful things. Ugly things. I don't know if I can stand it. I was wrong to let him.... I was wrong...." She sobbed, biting her lip and pulling him close.
"I was too," he said, patting her head and stroking her hair. "We both made a mistake and now we have to pay for it. If there was some way out. Maybe they'd take money?"
"No," Madge whined. "They're rich. They want us. They want us to do things with them. To make love in ugly ways."
"I don't know what to do. We could go to the police?"
"They'd send the pictures. They would. And we couldn't do anything, Arny. What could we prove?"
"I don't know. I just can't let them...."
He lifted Madge's chin up and looked at her wet eyes. She held the lids half-closed, not looking at him.
"I'm not mad," he said gently, lifting her chin higher with his finger. "I'm ashamed at both of us. We were trapped. They had it planned and I'll bet we're not the first."
She looked up at him and her face trembled into a faint smile.
"We'll have to think of something. We can work something out."
"What do we do while we're waiting?" she asked, her lower lip shaking.
"I guess we'll have to go along with them. We don't have much choice. But we won't put our hearts into it. They can't make us like it. And maybe they'll get tired of us and let us go."
"I don't know," Madge said. "I don't know."
"All right. Break it up. Time to play." John and Beth bounced down the stairs - naked. John's upturned penis was half erect and Beth's jaunting breasts stood out from her pliable flesh invitingly.
"We said we'd play pool, and I think we should," John said, going to the credenza and extracting a set of ivory balls. "I want to show you our special game."
"Our rules are no clothes, so from now on whenever you enter the house, just strip down. You can strip now, friends." Beth eyed the pair. "Come on lovebirds, take it off, take it all off and let it all hang out. Pictures? Tapes?"
"Can we wait until we're -we're used to...."
"No. Now, damnit. I thought we had this clear," Beth fumed. "You do what we say when we say it and we'll have no trouble. Now strip!"
Slowly, the couple shed their clothes until they stood in their underwear.
"All the way," John taunted, rolling the balls back and forth in the rack. "Clothes and my special pool don't go well together."
Madge unsnapped her bra and let it slide off her arms. Her skin was covered with tiny goose bumps and her brown nipples stood rigid. Arny stepped out of his jockey shorts at the same time Madge was pulling the slick nylon panties down her slender legs. They looked at each other, embarrassment coursing through their faces.
"Like nudists, you'll get used to it," John said matter-of-factly as he plucked a cue from the rack. His long, upturned penis banged against his thighs as he moved his muscular body around the table, picking at the pieces of lint that lay on it.
"Come on, pick a cue and let's start," Beth said happily, pouring martinis from a pitcher she had brought down with her. She handed one each to Arny and Madge and picked herself a cue.
"The game's simple," John said, resting his cue at his side and sipping the martini. "We have fifteen balls here," he gestured at the V-lined rack of pool balls. "Each ball is painted with a sexual position. Now, each player gets to shoot at one of the balls. Arny, you get the first two Dockets, Madge you get the second two; and Beth and I will share the last two." He paused to chalk his cue and look at the anxious couple.
"Now, Arny. You will be shooting for a position to fuck Beth in. Don't squirm - we use free, easy, realistic language down here. The ball you get in will tell you what you and Beth are going to do. She'll shoot one in too, and you'll have to save your gun to get it off twice. It works the same for you, Madge," he nodded toward the embarrassed woman, "and, of course, for me. Take your time and shoot for your delight."
He centered the cue and smashed into it with the cue stick, sending the ball smacking into the fifteen lewdly painted balls at the opposite end of the table.
"Good break," Beth said, holding her cue up and looking at the balls spread out on the table. "Very good."
"Your turn, Madge." John pulled a cue out of the rack and handed it to her. "Shoot for cocksucking. I like that." John's lips curled back and his cheek with the indented dimple, quivered excitedly.
"You're filthy," Madge snapped, swiping her hand at the stick and grabbing it from him.
"Matter of degrees between us," John said. "We do it freely, you sneak around."
Inflamed, Madge took the cue and blindly jammed it at the cue ball, indiscriminately hitting the balls and scattering them. One of the balls, painted with a figure of a man and woman having intercourse dog-fashion, rolled precariously to the edge of John's pocket.
"Almost got a dog-fuck," John laughed. "Beth?"
With a pool hustler's aplumb, Beth sauntered up to the table, chalked the cue, leaned down, her breasts dragging on the felt, and scrutinized her shot.
"Looks like a basket job for old Arny," she said, squeezing an eye shut and peering along the cue ball's route.
Arny stood stiffly beside Madge still trying to think of a way out of the problem. He watched as Beth hunched over the table, her tit-globes dangling inches off the table, her flaring ass tensed. Her fingers formed a bridge, she slid the phalluslike cue back, and then pushed it forward against the cue ball, sending her target ball plunking into the left side pocket.
"Bravo!" John said, wriggling up behind her and squeezing her ripe breasts. "My perfect wife." He kissed her neck and humped into her ass like a dog, his soft penis flopping against her cheeks.
"Here," John extracted the ball from the pocket and tossed it at Arny. Arny held it, turning it over in his hand and studying the lewd painting. A woman hovered above a prostrate man. She was sitting in a basket with an open bottom and her ass dangled down. The man's penis was shoved into her ass -or vagina -he couldn't tell, and the basket appeared fuzzy, as if it were moving. Both caricatures painted realistically on the ball wore pleasured, erotic-masked faces.
"If you don't understand it now, you will a little later," Beth smiled, reaching down and rubbing her husband's cock. "Your shot."
Arny stood, transfixed in the spot, his feet unable to move.
"Well," John said, "guess I'll have to pick a cue for you." He took one off the rack and handed it to Arny. "It's a real antique, old boy. One of the classics. Good tapered maple wood with the old leather tip. Have to hit the ball squarely, in the old days they didn't have chalk, had to use the whitewashed ceilings to hit the ball off-center."
"Well?" he said impatiently a moment later.
"Go ahead, Arny," Madge prodded, looking at him with forlorn eyes. "We don't have any choice."
Arny moved toward the table, the heavy, ancient cue in his hand. He glanced at the balls. Each stared lewdly up at him. Couples were fornicating in bizarre positions, on top, beside, under, 69, eating anuses, daisy-chained in a circle, rolled up in a rug, squatting, hanging from ropes -none of the positions were without some innovative nature.
Purposefully, Arny miscued and sent the ivory cue ball careening past his target ball and clicking lightly into the orgy of balls near the left corner pocket.
"Don't worry about missing," John said, sounding like a coach. "The balls are pure ivory, They're not very true. That's why most pool players use industrial balls. And, by the way, if you keep missing, I'll have to shoot one in for you, and I guarantee it won't be an easy one."
He laughed and patted Arny roughly on the back. "These are the straight sex balls, I have some sadistic ones if you'd rather play along those lines."
"No," Arny gulped. "No. I'll get one, I'm sure." He moved back to Madge's side. They watched John bend over the table and shoot. The cue clacked into the target ball and it plunked into the side pocket.
"Hell," he mocked. "I get to fuck you standing up, Madge. Ever had it that way?" Silence. "Good, you'll probably turn on then."
"Well, Madge, Arny, seems you two are the only ones who haven't made a ball. Madge, how about tipping in that dog-fashion one?" John waved his hands graciously in front of the cue. Madge approached, eyeing him carefully, and bent over. She sucked in a deep breath of air as she felt John's heavy hand caress the small of her back.
"Just relax, baby. Tap the cue and it will knock that ball in like a prick sinking into a cunt. Easy, baby." His hand had slipped down to the round curve of her ass. He pressed her cheek and she trembled, her breathing coming in short gasps. Trembling, she pushed the cue stick against the lead ball and it clicked, knocking the dog-fashion ball gently into the comer pocket.
"Excellent. Excellent. Now, your husband. Arny?"
Arny had watched John caressing Madge and felt a compulsion to smash the leaded end of the cue stick against the man's skull. He was shaking when he approached the table. John gave him a knowing look that made him angrier.
"Don't get excited about a little rubbing of the wife, old man. Things are going to get a helluva lot hotter before the night is over."
His hands still trembling, Arny aimed the cue at the picture of a woman squatting down over a man's cock. The man's fingers were hidden, apparently stuffed up the woman's anus.
"Now, everyone has shot a ball and we're ready to go to work." John collected the cues as Beth sipped her drink.
"Everyone ought to drink something, to loosen up," she cooed, handing them their untouched drinks. Nervously, Madge and Arny sipped the fluids down, as if communicating without words their need for inhibition.
"Can we - can we do it separately?" Madge asked timorously.
"Certainly not, we're a swing group now, Madge," Beth said, touching the woman's hair with her fingers. "We share everything with everyone. Might pick up a few new tricks that way."
"Come here, baby," John said, crooking his finger at Madge. "We'll take the dog-fashion first."
Madge slowly moved toward him, glancing over her shoulder at Arny who stood like a robot watching. John's hands slipped around her waist and he pulled her to him. She felt her hard breasts mash against his hairy chest and her trembling body shiver as he slid his hands up and down her back, letting his large palms cup her buttock cheeks and draw her in to him. His mouth caressed her soft shoulder and he nibbled up to her neck, watching Arny on the other side of the room as the man's jaw set tightly and his fists balled into knots at his side.
Arny felt the warm touch of flesh pressing against his back. He turned and Beth's arms slipped around his neck, pulling his head to hers.
"Come on, lover. We have some screwing to do."
He didn't resist as she pulled him down on the couch and spread her legs, letting him fit gently between her warm, cushiony thighs.
CHAPTER NINE
Arny could smell the heady fragrance of an exotic perfume seeping from Beth's pores as her body began to respond to the fusion with his own flesh. He tried to be passive, but Beth's fingers danced over his flesh, her fingernails teasing his neck, his back, his chest, his thighs. He fought the urge to respond, but his penis betrayed him. It began to stiffen as she wriggled under him, wetting his face and neck with passionate kisses.
He could hear the moaning behind him and had a desire to turn around and look at Madge and John. But he knew better. The whole idea burned him and he wasn't sure what he would do.
"Come on, lover. Loosen up. I have to mount you and with that toy there -" she reached down and fondled his half-hard penis -"you couldn't do a damn thing to me."
Her mouth sought his and her tongue wriggled between his lips like a snake, wagging inside against the roof of his mouth. Flashes of the night before ignited his memory and he began to respond, opening his mouth and allowing her freer access. His body began to move in rhythm with hers, twisting lightly from side to side; and then, at the urging of her pelvis, he began to move roughly against her, feeling the soft mat of her pubis mashing against his stiff prick.
"Now," she moaned. "Like the pictures, Arny, baby. Like the pictures."
She scooted up oh his stomach, dragging her slippery vagina along his heaving stomach. He could feel the coarse pubic hairs grinding into his flesh as she seesawed over him. His prick was as stiff as a pool cue as she reached behind him and clutched it, squeezed and stripped it up and down until his face twisted trying to fight off the mounting desire. He could feel his balls constrict and the semen press against the base of his cock.
"Remember the ball," Beth said, looking at him through slitted eyes. Her mouth was puckered and her tongue danced out, licking playfully at her lips as she raised her voluptuous rear in the air and poised it daintily over his wavering penis. "Your fingers, Arny, baby. They go to work top. Just pretend I'm your wife and you're John." She throatily laughed and lowered herself, reaching between her legs and guiding Arny's swollen staff to the soft lips of her love box.
He grimaced and turned his head, straining to see John and Madge. He caught them out of the comer of his eye kneeling on all fours on top of the pool table. Madge was rocking back toward John as he drove his penis into her unwilling vagina. He was whispering in her ear and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. Still -still Arny detected the signs of passion: her reddened face, her trembling arms, her lips tucked under her front teeth as she bit them and tried to fight back the tears - tears of passion, tears of sorrow - Arny didn't know which.
"Pay attention," Beth hissed, digging her sharp fingernails into Arny's chest. She was grinding around on his penis, her face livid and her head cocked back as if she were watching the stars through the ceiling. Her hair swished back and forth across her delicate shoulders as she lolled her head and drove her fingers into his skin. "Work with me, baby." she moaned, letting her weight down. "Grind, baby. Touch me. Excite me. Call me a bitch. Do anything, but just don't lay there like a log!" Her lips moved like a ventriloquist's - unnoticeably.
Arny began to respond. His hips lurched upward as she smashed down and he lifted his body up against hers and wriggled from side to side, feeling her snatch pull at the sides of his penis as he dragged it out and shoved it in. He could hear the steady sucking and slurping of flesh as the fluids in the channel signaled the heightening of their passion. His body trembled and he no longer seemed in control of himself. His mind was removed from the idea that his wife was being coerced into sex only a few feet away. He was back in the bedroom with his lust kitten - she was curled up in bed with him, her hair spilled on the pillow like an open flower, her misty eyes were looking at him, begging him for more. The shudders quaked through him as he reached behind Beth and clutched her buttock cheeks in his hands and drove her down, listening to her moans and whimpers as he felt his engorged rod smashing against her insides.
"More! Fuck me more! Fuck me!"
He missed a stroke and listened.
"FUCK ME. GOD, FUCK ME HARDER!"
"What did you stop for?" snarled Beth as she pumped up and down on him, a look of disdain and disgust on her face. "That's only your wife telling you she's enjoying it all."
Arny craned his neck and saw Madge's hands reaching behind her and rubbing furiously at John's flesh as the man held her against him and rammed his tool deeply into her. His wife's eyes were glazed and the foul words were tumbling out as she lunged back against her tormentor.
"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah. More! MORE!"
Arny couldn't believe it. She was acting like a nymphomaniac, freely giving herself to the man - more freely than she had ever given in to him. Angrily, he turned back to Beth.
"Let's fuck, bitch," he hissed at her this time.
"Wife piss you off?" Beth taunted, smashing down on him and rotating her hips insanely against his swollen staff.
"Just fuck, bitch. Talk later."
Arny felt like acting rough. These people were filth as far as he was concerned and he was going to treat them as such from now on. They wanted to play games; well, he sure as fuck could play games too.
Viciously, he reached for Beth's tits and clutched one in each hand. As he rammed up toward her, he pulled down on the tit until she moaned painfully. Again and again he repeated the action, each time pulling harder until he thought she was going to scream. Tears rolled out of the corners of her tightly shut eyes, but she didn't cry out. She clenched her teeth and hissed - hissed like a snake at him, her eyes burning, challenging him to go further, to hurt her deeper. He felt his fingers tightening around her globes; he felt the skin becoming harder and harder to press as his clutch became more vicelike. His hips were heaving off the sofa as they smacked together. His mouth was dry and he breathed quickly through his nose, snorting and grunting, yanking at the tits in his hands. He wanted to rip them off, pull them out by their roots, and shove them into her face. The thought repulsed him as he slowly understood she was enjoying his torment. A smile of pleasured pain smirked across her face as she looked hatefully omniscient above him.
Angered at himself, he released his grip on her tits and fumbled around behind her pumping ass. The crack of her ass was easy to find and he stretched his hands until he felt the cheeks spread, engulfing his prying index finger.
"Like the balls," he hissed through his teeth, glaring at her. "Like the balls."
"Umph!"
She groaned loudly as, without preparation, he jammed his first finger into her ass and twisted it. He pushed and felt it drive through to the second knuckle as she grimaced in pain. He tried to crook it, but the resilient tissue fought back. He flexed the tip and watched her face soften from the tortured mask she wore seconds ago to a glowing sense of warmth and appreciation.
Arny began jacking his finger in and out, plunging it angrily up into her as she fell down on his staff.
"Use two, Arny, baby. Use two fingers," she mocked, smirking at him again and dragging her sharp fingernails down his belly.
Keeping the one finger in, he shoved the middle one into the tight opening and began to rotate the pair. He could feel the soft tissue give and he expected any moment to hear a ripping as her anus split like a rag. But it didn't. She winced at first, and then her smile returned, her pleasured smile that mocked him and told him he could do anything and it would only be pleasure - never pain. Rotating the fingers, he began to increase his rhythm until they were both sweating and driving wildly against each other.
"Now!" Arny commanded. "Now!"
He could feel the strain on his prostate as he drove skyward, into her. The semen seemed to crawl toward his cock like molten lead laying heavily against his bowels. It inched up to the base of his cock and he thought he would faint if it didn't gush out. It was warm and exciting. It began to inch up the shaft like mercury in a thermometer. Higher and higher it climbed, crawling erotically in the center of his penis, driving toward her sucking twat.
"Umph!"
He rolled her over suddenly and they slipped off the couch and onto the floor. He jabbed quickly and the sperm shot out instantly into her in a steady, warm, hallucinating stream that sent his mind floating and careening off to space. His mouth mashed on hers and he sucked passionately at her extended tongue as she lunged up at him, her legs twining around his waist and squeezing the last ounce of semen from him.
She quivered and thrust into him, trembling and shaking violently as she bit at his tongue and slobbered. "Oh, God. It's good. So good. God!"
Then they lay limply, occasionally spasming, touching each other's flesh gently and looking dreamily into the other's eyes.
"Lovebirds? Oh, lovebirds?"
Arny looked up and saw Madge kneeling before John, licking the sticky semen from the man's limp cock.
"Hope you don't mind, old man," John said casually, running a massive hand through his thick hair. "I just hate to wash up."
Arny said nothing. He groped for the edge of the couch and sat back, watching his wife's pink tongue playing up and down John's oddly shaped penis.
Madge said nothing. Her eyes were closed and she felt sick. She knew Arny was watching; she knew he was looking with hatred at her, but she saw no way out. John had told her to do it; he had warned her again about the tape and pictures. As she lapped at the penis, feeling its bulky fleshiness meeting her tongue, she felt a twinge of warmth spread uncontrollably through her. She had never climaxed as she had moments ago. It had been so fulfilling, so bizarrely ugly she seemed to be thrust onto a cloud where she had floated and looked down at the world through slow-motion eyes. She remembered reaching back automatically between her legs and grabbing his testicles in her palms and squeezing them. It seemed to make him spurt more of ecstatic fluid in her and send her even higher into the clouds.
Now, she was repaying him. Her tongue was cleaning him like a faithful dog as he stood cockily, his legs spread, a cigar in his mouth, his muscular arms folded across his dark, hairy chest. The juices were tasteless, only the shame of Arny watching stung her like vinegar on a terrible sunburn.
"Don't fag out on us, lover," Beth said; climbing between Arny's legs and taking his limp penis in her hands. "We still have a basket to enjoy."
As Beth's practiced tongue laved over his penis, Arny wondered what the basket would be like and if he and Madge would ever be the same when this was all over.
They rested for an hour. Madge and John stood by the pool table where John could easily reach out and pet her, or squeeze an inviting breast, or nibble on her navel. He seemed to be doing the acts purposely to irk Arny.
Bern never took a hand off Arny. Her slender fingers roamed over his body, teasing his flesh here and there as she tried to engage Madge in simple chitchat. It was all like the theater of the absurd to Arny - everyone was united in appearance, yet underneath they acted as if they were separate entities. Yet they were all flesh, all love bites of desire. They were stripped of all the hypocrisy of life except their mouths and their ridiculous minds which groped for the absurd.
Here they were, two married couples, acting like perverted beasts. Two were the hunted, two the hunters. Still, no one seemed to be the prey. They had all enjoyed it -every one of them. Arny had heard Madge's cries, seen her looks of desire. No, they were all wrong. All of them. The only thing left was to try and make it right. But how? Arny didn't know.
"Swap time." John intruded across Arny's thoughts as he approached the couch, tossing two pool balls playfully from one hand to the other like a juggler. Arny looked up and saw his broad, wide-toothed smile.
"Pick a hand?" The muscular man extended his balled fists with the ivory globes tucked inside. "Either hand, Arny, baby. Either hand."
Feeling like the bait on the end of the hook, Arny looked furtively from Beth's smiling face to Madge's lowered eyes.
"What is it?" Arny asked.
"Swap. Swap, baby," John said, shifting his weight lightly and tensing his muscles so the hard, blue veins stood out along his gleaming, tanned arms. "We all shot balls, right? We all got a position, right? We all screwed one way with the other guy's wife, right? Now, baby, you choose one of the two remaining balls. If you pick the one you shot in, you get the basket job with Beth. If you pick the one I shot in, stand-fucking your wife, I get the basket job. It's just a play game, Arny, baby. We swap around. You know, to make things interesting. You think you're going to do one thing, and, bingo! you do something else." He paused and his feet danced excitedly. "Pick one, Arny. Pick one."
Gingerly, Arny reached out and tapped the back of John's left hand.
"Great, let's see what you've won." He opened his fist slowly. "Oh, Arny. You lose, baby. I get the basket you had. Poor Arny, you'll have to turn the basket for me and screw my wife standing up. What a switch."
"Naughty boy, John," Beth said, slapping at his other hand. "I'll bet both the balls were the same."
Hopping on one foot like a small boy who had just won, John scampered back to the pool table and buried the balls in a pocket.
"I'll never tell."
"But." Arny's voice trailed off.
"Speak up, old man," John said, proffering the trio a trayful of fresh martinis. "Don't stutter. Speak."
"But I picked the basket."
"You mean to tell me you think you won?"
"Well, it seems."
"Shit, Arny, baby. I keep forgetting to explain all the rules to you. If you win and I want, then you lose. The same for Beth. We get the first option. Sorry about that, but that's the way we do things. And they are our pictures and tapes, just remember that."
He tossed his head back and laughed, the corded veins of his neck sticking out obscenely as his guffaws thundered through the room.
"Well, let's get on with it. We haven't got all night," Beth said, putting her hand on Madge's back and guiding her to the corner of the spacious room where a pile of brightly colored pillows were tossed atop a thick, plush, purple rug.
"Follow the girls," John said to Arny, pointing his glass in their direction. "I think you'll get a kick out of this."
Arny took the martini and gulped it down, feeling the burning sensation irritate his throat as the gin and vermouth trickled down toward his stomach. He had no idea what this basket thing was about, but he was sure from what had transpired throughout the evening that it was going to be bizarre. He poured another martini, gulped at it, then swayed toward the three figures in the corner.
John pulled a basket from the paraphernalia and hooked a piece of rope around its half moon handle. Standing on a chair Beth scooted up for him, he stretched high toward a beam with a pulley attached to it and threaded the rope into the wheel's groove. He pulled at the loose end of the rope until the basket was sliding up and down freely. He released it and the basket dropped with a thud to the floor.
"Everything looks good," he said, unconsciously scratching at his testicles and eyeing Madge who had remained silent since her cries atop the pool table. "Even you, baby," John said, pulling her close and caressing her breasts with his fingers. "You're going to look even better up there."
Madge cringed as she felt his taunting fingers squeeze her nipple. She looked at Arny's helpless frame, his sloping shoulders, his livid face, and wished for an instant he would lash out at the man's head with his fist, knock him down, kick him, curse him for touching his wife. But she knew he wouldn't, couldn't.
Her eyes focused on the basket and then traveled up the rope to the pulley. She looked questioningly at Beth.
"It's simple, honey," Beth said, rubbing up against her so that her breasts shoved against her arm. "You just sit there in that basket without any bottom in it and your handsome husband will pull you up. My husband will lie on the floor and get a nice, big juicy hard-on. Then, sweetheart," she rubbed harder against Madge's arm, "your husband will lower the basket ever so slowly until...." She tossed her head back and let out a shrill laugh.
Madge shot a glance at Arny, who stood swaying, looking down into the tilted martini glass. She sucked in a deep breath of air. "All right. I'm game."
Arny jerked his head up. Madge's voice was defiant and challenging. She was fighting back, taking it like a woman. Or was she? He didn't know. He didn't know what was the right or wrong way to combat the situation. He took her cue and decided he'd try it her way too.
"Good," he blurted, the words thick in his mouth. "I like a gamy wife." He laughed, spilling the martini on the rug.
"Hey," John said, touching Beth's arm, "they suddenly like us."
"Right," Madge replied, returning Beth's pinch with her own brutal squeeze.
Beth's face winced and her face melted to a frown for a moment before she laughed it off. "I guess under all that false morality there is a gamy spirit."
"You guess right, bitch," Madge smirked, feeling gloriously high with her newfound courage and confidence.
Beth's eyebrows rose, then slowly lowered as her infectiously lewd smile returned. "Hop in the basket then, hotpants, and we'll get the show on the road."
It didn't seem possible, but Madge squeezed her firm, round buttocks into the resilient wicker basket. It was uncomfortable, but she smiled pleasantly and laughed, waving her arms in the air and ruffling her hair as if she were having a grand time. She saw Arny's penetrating look and winked at him.
"Looks like I'm going to get screwed good, honey," she said to him as she shrugged her scrunched shoulders.
"Better turn him on or he'll send the dirteee pictures," Arny scoffed, trying to make his voice sound jovial. He looked at his wife and wondered if he could keep up the act. She was jackknifed in the basket with her knees almost touching her nose and her arms dangling over the side. Her rear had sunk down through the tapered bottom of the wicker and looked like a fleshy glob hanging in midair as John pulled the basket up a few feet.
"Wild," Madge said, waving her hands again. "I feel like I'm at the carnival."
"Wait a few minutes and tell me how you feel," John chided, signaling Arny to take hold of the rope. Arny grabbed it and, as the two men's hands exchanged their grip, the basket dropped a few inches toward the floor.
"Ooops, don't let loose, dear," Madge cried.
"I won't," Arny grunted, wrapping the rope around his wrist and bearing down with all his weight.
"I'll help you, lover," Beth said, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his as she pressed her breasts into his naked back. He could feel the pressure slacken as her hands helped hold Madge off the floor.
"Now, fans, the show is about to begin." John lay down beneath the basket and began stroking his penis. Madge tried to look over the side of the swinging basket but every time she leaned, the rope slipped slightly and Arny grunted. John's staff was halfhard as he spoke.
"Okay, Arny, baby. Lower your wife's twat down over my cock."
For an instant, Arny burned. He could feel the blood rushing to his face and he thought of letting the rope drop Madge's full one hundred and twenty pounds on John's stomach. He swallowed hard. "Coming down." He lowered the basket slowly, listening to the beams groan overhead as the rope inched through the pulley.
Madge saw Arny's face come into view and then Beth's. She was being slowly lowered toward the vile man's cock. Her buttocks were spread from the constricting sides of the basket and she could feel her vagina already pried open by the awkward position.
"Coming to ya, baby," she heard John mutter. As the rope crept down it seemed like eons before she felt the stiff tip of his phallus press against her cunt lips. She bit her lip and tried to muffle the painful cry she felt stirring in her throat as the basket glacially sank down and the man's stiff pecker shoved its way without preparation into her dry slot. There was nothing erotic, only something disturbing about the sensation of having his penis stuffed into her. Her arms were aching and her legs were numb. She forced a smile to her lips and said, "You're not turning me on, you know?"
"He will. You bet your sweet nipples, he will," Beth said confidently. Madge watched as the woman released her helping hand on the rope. The basket slipped down abruptly and Madge cried out as a searing pain shot through her. John's cock had rammed into her so far the head seemed to be shoving against her cervix.
"Hold the rope, Arny, or your wife will be coughing up my cock," John grunted as he shifted around. "Now watch closely. Beth?"
"Right here, sweetie."
"Turn the lady on. She isn't having any fun."
"Sure. Hang on, hot pants."
Madge gripped the sides of the basket and waited. Her back was to Beth, but she could feel the woman's fingers touching the edge of the wicker.
"Round and round we go," Beth sang as she began to turn the basket slowly around.
Madge's eyes bulged as she felt the bizarre sensation of John's cock stiffly stationary in her and her vagina screwing around it like the threads of a bottlecap. The room began to swim before her eyes as Beth twirled the basket around faster and faster. Her cunt seemed to be aflame as she felt the tissues pulling and twisting and turning around his stiffening shaft. Arny was a blur and Beth's face became more and more indiscrete as the basket turned faster and faster.
"Ooohhhh. It hurts. IT HURTS." She cried out the words as the burning became more intense, as the walls of her vagina seemed to ignite like phosphorous being exposed to the air.
"Stop it!" She heard Arny shout out the words as the burning ceased and a warm, searing excitement replaced the pain.
"Wo. It's all right. It's better. It's good. Faster. Make it go around faster." Her breasts were burning and the fire grew more and more intense. She was charged and ready to explode. Her V was being churned by his cock, it was being ripped and torn in her mind and the pain was cleansing - it was numbing her of the guilt, replacing her hesitation and reservation with desire. She was panting, sucking in short gasps of breath and clutching at the sides of the basket as it whirled around and around. "I - I'M COM-MING. HELP ME. HELP ME. TURN ME FASTER."
She couldn't fight back the words. They erupted from her an instant before the electrical charge switched on inside her womb and showered her nerves with an endless monsoon of sparkling, effervescent sensations that rocketed her into a numb state of ecstasy. Her head lolled back against the lip of the basket as she felt the warm gushing of John's sperm spewing into her. The spinning ceased and she sat exhausted, looking at the unsteady ceiling.
"Lower her, Arny."
His hands trembling from excitement and fear, Arny let the rope ease through his fingers until his wife lay, still in the basket, among the pillows.
"You were very, very good, Madge," John said, lifting her, basket and all, and laying her on the couch. "I'm proud of you. Now we have one leftover task."
She looked dreamily up at him, her mind still soaring in the soft warmth of her orgasm.
"You have to clean me up, dear. Lick my cock clean like a good little slut."
"Yes," she cooed as he pulled the basket from her perspiring body. "Yes."
As if in a hypnotic state, she watched John climb over her and dangle his limp, juice-covered phallus over her lips. She moved her hands toward the limp member and grabbed it, pulling it gently toward her mouth to suck and lick it clean.
"Looks like your wife is enjoying the little games, Arny," Beth said, pulling the bewildered man toward the disarrayed pillows. "You'll like it too, as soon as you give in. Now, warm me up. We have to do it standing up, silly, or have you forgotten?"
"No, I haven't," Arny said; turning toward her and wondering if his wife on the couch licking John's penis was playing the game for real, or playing it because she had no other choice. In a moment, Beth's tit was in his mouth and the only thing he thought about was burying himself in her warm V and forgetting who and where he was.
CHAPTER TEN
Madge sat quietly at the breakfast table reading the book.
"Is that one of their filthy rags?" Arny spat, throwing down his napkin and shoving his chair gruffly from the table.
Nonchalantly, his wife looked at him and answered, "Yes."
"Well, throw it away, for God's sake. Don't read it at the table."
Madge laid it on the table, carefully dog-earing the page. Her eyes were soft and mellow and her voice resigned. "Arny?"
He grumbled and stared at her.
"Look, Arny. We've been going over there every night for a week. They've given us these books to read and expect us to know what to do when they ask. They're getting tired of teaching us things." She paused and sipped from her coffee, looking at him over the brim with her dewy eyes. "We're only protecting ourselves by doing what they say. We both know they're crazy. Why, they could send those pictures any minute of the day, on just a whim. We can't afford not to do what they ask."
"But those books are filthy. The pictures. The instructions. They're a quick course to becoming a sex pervert. I don't want you reading them," he said finally, slamming his fist down on the table and clattering the dishes.
Madge picked the book off the table and tucked it into her duster pocket.
"Maybe you're right, Arny. But we have to skim them anyway. You know how Beth acted the other night when I didn't know what she meant. They're awfully fussy about being satisfied."
Arny couldn't believe the casual way Madge had reacted to the debauched mess since that first night.
"Well, you seem to be turning on without any trouble," he barked. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were enjoying it."
"Don't be silly, Arny. I hate every minute of it. But we have to act like we like it. I heard Beth talking to John about you. You don't seem to have your heart in it. They can tell, you know. You'll have to pretend. I know them; they're very evil people, Arny. We can't risk - "
"Risk! What the hell do you mean, risk? Everytime we go over there it's the same thing. Flesh, flesh, flesh. They scream it at us, they chant it, they wallow in it. I'm getting sick of it, Madge. I'm getting sick of them and I'm worried about you."
Her brows rose haughtily, she looked at him coolly and said, "You needn't worry about me, Arny. I'm not drinking like a sponge. You are. You're a nervous wreck. Now you'd better resign yourself and go along with them. I think they'll tire of us soon and well be free. We're like playthings to them. New toys. Toys wear out. We'll be free. Honest, Arny. Believe me." She stood and came to him. Her duster was open at the top and her bare breast swayed unrestrained against the loose material. She took his face in her hands and pressed it against the opening of her duster, feeling his cool face against her warm breast. "Everything will be all right, Arny. It just takes some time. Some very careful time."
Her voice was like a siren's, lulling him toward the dangerous straits. He tried to resist the urge, but it overwhelmed him. Since the first night with the Hallmans he had been unable to get enough of Madge. She had a completely new aura about her that swirled around him like a butterfly net, capturing him in its web and turning him into putty at the slightest contact with her flesh.
"I'll be late for work," Arny moaned, pressing his face deeper into her soft flesh and nibbling at the scented skin of her stomach.
"You were late yesterday and the day before. What's another day?" she said, stroking the back of his head and pulling him closer.
"I'm not going to get the raise."
"You don't need it. We spend all our free time in bed," she purred.
"Please, Madge," he whined. "I don't want to be late again. I...."
But she was pulling at her housecoat, unsnapping the buttons and exposing the inviting V of her vagina to him. He tried not to look, but the aroma seeped up and tantalized his nostrils. His tongue began to lick at her belly, sliding down below her navel to the crisp hairs surrounding her slit.
In a moment, he was down on his knees, his tie bulging against his throat as he lapped at the slit, stabbing into her with his tongue and feeling her fingers urging him to shove it in deeper, to wriggle it harder, to crook its tip and drag it back against her distended clitoris, to suck on the nubbin and graze it with his teeth, to blow on the appendage and lick it, curl his tongue around it, pinch it with his fingers. The compulsion was overwhelming and the sweat dripped off him as he rotated his tongue around inside her and listened to her moans of pleasure. Her thighs trembled as they pressed against his ears and she began to shudder as the racking shocks of orgasm shattered through her lithe body.
"Ummmm," she moaned, leaning back and rotating her hips against her husband's wet face. "Ummm."
"I have to go," he wheezed. "I'm late." He pushed her gently away and threw some water on his face to wash off the smell.
"Let me suck you first," she cooed, coming up behind him and playing with his hard cock through the trousers.
"I can't, Madge. I can't. My job."
"Please? It's not fair to you to go like that."
"I can't help it, Madge." He pushed her away again and moved toward the door, straightening his tie and looking for his valise.
"I'll suck it quick, Arny. I'll swallow it. Please? Arny?"
She was standing in the doorway, her open duster revealing her breasts and creamy thighs. Her mouth puckered and her eyes were glazed.
"Tonight," he promised hurrying out the door. "Tonight."
As Madge listened to the coughing engine ignite and then roar off down the driveway, she pulled the book out of her pocket and sat down to study it.
We have to be ready, she thought to herself. We're not perverted, but we have to keep up with them. As her eyes focused on one of the pictures, she let her free hand slip down to her exposed V and rub unconsciously - just to set the mood, nothing more than the mood.
"Glad to see you could finally make it, Tillman," Mr. Cullen said acidly as Arny walked in thirty minutes late. Sheepishly, the slope-shouldered man wormed his way through the cubicles to his office and began rifling through his paperwork.
His mind strayed to Madge and John and Beth and the whole lewd affair. He had to do something. His work was suffering and he was beginning to feel the effects of the prolonged bizarre sexual bouts. They were getting to him like the alcohol he was drinking. No longer did he just pretend, but instead, he found himself looking forward to going next door and wondering what he was supposed to do next. And Beth.... He couldn't help thinking of Beth. Her body was so luscious, so voluptuous, her voice so throaty and exciting. And Madge had changed. She wasn't the woman he knew three weeks ago. She was different. She was becoming more and more like Beth. Even the texture of her skin seemed to become like Beth's. And the books. They were making schoolkids out of them, making them study the private collections of sex acts performed in different ways in different positions.
Each night it was something new, something bizarre, something he had never imagined before. And John would make Madge lick him clean after every time, and Madge would do it, like a puppy obeying her master. Beth did it to him too; but hers was a playful lapping, a teasing lapping, not one of adoration. He hated John's smugness, his muscular don't-give-a-fuck attitude, his masculine insolence.
The sex wasn't confined to just their house or the Hallmans'. No matter where he looked he saw something lewd, something vulgar and distorted. Every time Mr. Cullen opened his mouth Arny thought of John's asshole. He thought of the shit pouring out of it in place of the words and of the look that would come to Cullen's face if he really knew what one of his young execs did in the evenings for pleasure.
The secretaries were fair game, too. He saw them all as potential bed partners and imagined how they would be in the odd positions he had learned. He began to categorize them, shoving one here, laying one there. There was Margie, the blonde, with the thin legs but suggestive swish of her ass. She broadcast knowledge, but he wondered what she really knew about fucking and being fucked....
"If you're through daydreaming, Mr. Tillman, I'd like you to get to work."
Bastard, Arny thought as he scowled at the retreating man's back. He grunted and looked down at the figures on the papers. They seemed to swim into one blurry pool. His mind wandered to Madge and then to Beth ... to the secretary in the next room with her golden-colored legs and sensual smile. He imagined what she would be like in the basket, or on the pool table, or in the whirlpool bath where Beth and John had conducted the last session of sex. Arny closed his eyes and thought about the night before.
They had stripped as usual when they entered and Beth had led them to the whirlpool where John was soaking.
"Climb in, pets," Beth had said, urging them into the pool with gentle nudges. The water had felt relaxing as it swirled around his body.
After the four bodies wriggled for comfort in the crowded enclosure, Beth had laid the rules.
"Now, Arny. Naturally, you are going to fuck me, and naturally, John is going to fuck your wife. I want you to dunk your head and suck on my twat. John will do the same to your wife. Then I'll go down on you, and John will let Madge go down on him. The first girl to get her jollies gets a two-way fuck from the guys. The first guy gets a two-way suck from the girls." She tossed her head back and laughed, her breasts making the displaced water ripple as they bounced up and down. "Any questions?"
There never were. Arny and Madge tried not to look at each other during the rites. They carried out the instructions as if they were alone, wrapping their minds in a sensual cocoon that involved only their mate. That way, they had agreed, there would be no hate between them as one listened to the other's animalistic groans of pleasure.
With a blub, Arny had ducked under the water and felt for Beth's thighs. Her skin was oily and slick as he ran his fingers up to find her slot. Following them, he pushed his head through the whirling water and opened his mouth. The water rushed in as he stabbed his tongue out, exploring the wet, soggy hair for the tiny opening he was to manipulate. Dragging his tongue down over the pubic mound, he felt its tip parting the hair around her snatch. His lungs were bursting and, as his tongue touched the slit, he pulled back and rose to the surface to gulp some air.
Beth's dancing eyes met his when he broke surface.
"You were just starting, frogman. Lick me good. Lick all that juice right out of me." He gulped, and she pushed his head down, guiding it back to her V.
He found it more easily this time and rapidly jabbed at the hole with his spear-shaped tongue. Her legs spread and then drew together against his ears, forcing the water against his eardrums. His knees were rubbing against another body in the water and he pressed his toes into the flesh to shove his tongue farther into the inundated slit. He could feel Beth jerking, and the sound of moans and screams filtered through the water. Again, his lungs ached and he exploded up to the surface, choking on some water that had trickled down his throat and made him cough.
"More! Arny. Arny. I'm almost there. HURRY!"
His cock stiff, his face flushed, Arny ducked back under the rushing water and began smashing his face into her V. His hands squeezed her buttocks, yanking her roughly against him as he strained his tongue to become as stiff as possible. As he had been trained, his forefinger teased her asshole, not jabbing it, but tracing around the puckered indentation, poking lightly, dragging along the crevice.
She was quick tonight and just as Arny was about to come up for another breath of air he felt her body stiffen, her legs mash against his ears, her buttocks twitch. Madly, he shook his head from side to side, allowing his tongue to bang roughly against her distended clitoris, sucking at the juices, careful not to swallow - only sucking-sucking - sucking until his lungs felt as if they were going to collapse.
She relaxed, and he shot up, spitting out a stream of water and vaginal fluids as his mouth cleared the surface.
"We won," Beth wheezed, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to her. "We won."
Panting, Arny held her against him and watched his wife standing with her back to him. She was shivering, her head tossing from side to side, her hands jacking John's head against her. Arny could see the man's feet distorted in the water and his hands clutching Madge's ass.
Madge began to scream; a low, throaty scream that developed into a shrill, piercing cry as she sobbed and lunged her hips forward into John's greedy mouth. Then she slumped, letting her head fall forward as the man beneath her surfaced.
Arny's cock was stiff and ached.
"Let's just do it," he said to Beth. "Let's not play any more games. Let's just lie down on the floor and do it." His body trembled and his testicles bulged.
"Games, Arny. Games. They make it all more interesting."
Her toothy smile exploded as her mouth widened into a grin and she laughed.
"Suck time," John bellowed, wiping his mouth with his dripping right arm. "Any time, girls. Go down."
Immediately, Beth ducked under the water and clomped her succulent mouth around Arny's rigid penis. Arny shivered as he felt her mouth sucking deeply on his turgid staff.
"Down. Down." John commanded Madge. "You don't want to lose, do you?"
Madge's eyes glazed and she sank under the water. John groaned, satisfied, as Arny watched his wife's arms snake around the muscular man's waist.
Beth was fast. She came up for air twice before Arny felt his semen pumping up toward her mouth. He grabbed her head and jacked it back and forth across his stiffening cock, feeling her teeth graze the glans and send irritating shivers through his body. It came, as it always came when Beth sucked him. It seemed to boil up and explode out, spitting itself in an exhausting stream into her inhaling mouth. She was like a leech dragging out the blood in his body, sucking it through his cock like a thirsty person drinking from a straw. He braced himself and grunted as the fiery seed spewed into her mouth and she gulped again and again until there was no more.
He looked down at her submerged head as it slowly rose to the surface, its hair fanned out in wet, floating strands, particles of semen rising up from her lips with the expanding air bubbles. He had an urge to kill - a sudden, startling urge to hold her voluptuous body down, to squeeze her throat until her eyes bulged and the bubbles stopped rising out of her open mouth to hold her under until her body went limp and her hands stopped squeezing at his wrists, until she was dead and he was free of the web she was spinning around him, capturing his every wandering thought, turning him into a sniveling beggar, bowing at her feet when she snapped her fingers, licking her vagina at a whim, fingering her asshole - but it was only an urge. It was only a thought, a whimsical, passing flash that disappeared when she broke surface, her mouth dripping with water and fine, thin strands of his semen. It was only an urge, because her husband was behind him. But it would return. And it would become real. He knew it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"I'm going to kill them," Arny said casually.
Madge, reading one of the books John had given her, didn't look up. Arny repeated the words.
"What, dear?"
Madge sat with a sheer nightie on, her breasts pouting over the dipped neckline, her legs neatly crossed.
"I'm going to kill them."
"Who?"
"Them!" Arny shouted, jumping to his feet and wagging a finger in the direction of the Hallmans' house.
"Beth and John?" Madge put the book down; her forehead was etched with lines of concern.
"Yes. Beth and John. Those two perverts across the street who keep using us."
"You're kidding, of course."
"Hell no, I'm not kidding. I mean it, Madge." He walked over to her and sank to the floor, resting his face against her knees. "Look, baby. We're going down the tubes. You've changed. God, you've changed. So have I. All I can think about is flesh. They keep chanting it all the time, making us do things we're beginning to like. I'm having dreams at night about them. They're on top of me. Both of them. Smothering me with their bodies. At work, I sit and doodle - dirty things. I can't open my mouth without being afraid I'm going to yell - fuck. Fuck you, bitch!" He paused and pressed his lips against her cool knee. "I can't go on. I can't."
"But, Arny, the pictures. The tapes." Madge's face was tense and her hand shook as she ran her fingers through his hair.
"To hell with the pictures and tapes. I don't care anymore. All I want to do is get back at them. Look at what they've done to us, Madge. For God's sake. You're screwed up. Something's snapped in your head. You're hung up on those bastards. Can't you see what they're doing to you? Cant you?"
"All they want is our bodies, Arny. It doesn't hurt to give them that," she whined.
As she started to rise, Arny caught her by the arm and dragged her down next to him, holding her arms against the floor.
"Madge -Madge!" He pressed his face into her neck. "Open your eyes, damnit...."
"It will be over soon; they'll be tired of us, Arny. Don't worry, Arny."
"No it won't be over soon! Why the fuck don't you get it through -" His words tore at her; her fingers bit sharply into her arms.
"Arny!"
He caught the howl of pain in her voice and pushed his head into her neck again. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry," he muttered. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. They were sapping him of all his strength, all his ambition.
Madge began to move under him, slowly at first so that he wouldn't notice it. It was an imperceptible movement, and unconscious one. He felt it and his heart sank. She was rubbing her breast against his chest, gently, teasing the nipple, making it stiffer and stiffer.
She said nothing. She only moved, writhing against him, her legs snaking up around his waist and tugging him down into her yawning thighs.
"No, Madge. We're as bad as they are."
Her tongue snaked into his ear, licking around the conical shape, probing in against the canal. Hot flashes coursed through him.
"Madge - Madge -" His-voice trailed off as he released her hand and it slipped down to unzip his trousers.
"Fuck me, fuck me hard, John."
"Madge-don't-"
"Oh, John! Fill me with your cock, John. John-"
Trembling, Arny pulled her close, feeling her flesh mash against his. Madge had been calling him John for the last week, melting against him at the merest touch, asking him to perform the bizarre acts on her after their trysts across the street.
It was becoming worse each day, and he was falling, sinking, spiraling down with her. The desire was burning as strongly in him. But he had some fight left. And as he sank his teeth into her breast and she clutched his cock, guiding it into her warm, excited vagina, he knew he had only one thing left he could do to make up for what they had done.
Madge cradled the phone and smiled at Arny.
"They're having a party, Arny. They want us to come."
"No, we can't, Madge."
"Arny," she whined, unzipping her housecoat. "We have to. Now, don't be silly. Come on. Get dressed."
Arny eyed his wife skeptically as she slithered out of the housecoat and swung her voluptuous figure toward the bathroom. He pressed his hands against his temples as he listened to her run the water and hum a soft tune. She was hooked and he knew it. She wasn't Madge anymore, she was becoming Beth. Even her lips seemed to change, becoming fuller and more sensual like her breasts and thighs. She soaked all day in oiled water, perfuming herself with expensive fragrances, decorating the house with paintings and furniture that reflected those the Hallmans had in their home. Even though she pretended to hate Beth on the outside, Arny was sure she was using the woman as a symbol, copying and acting like her almost every moment of the day.
It was alluring and it was sickening. Arny knew that Beth and John were sick. They didn't care; they weren't human. They enjoyed dragging others down into the quagmire with them, watching them wallowing in the sin that they had so carefully constructed. He had to put a stop to it. He had to. But how? How? Kill them? He didn't think he could.
"Arny, hurry up. We'll be late. You know how Beth is about being late."
Yes, Arny knew how Beth felt about being late. But what did he feel, what did Madge feel? All they talked about anymore was what Beth and John felt. Not what they felt.
"All right, all right. I'm coming. I'm coming." Reluctantly, Arny swung up from the chair, his shoulders sloping forward, his hands dangling lifeless from his sides, and steered his frame toward the bedroom to get dressed for the party.
Madge was excited as they crossed the street to the Hallmans' house. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were limned with a pale makeup that gave her a haunting look. Although Arny hated Beth for what Madge was becoming, he couldn't help but pride himself in her presence. She had learned to be seductive and learned well.
They glanced up the street and saw four unfamiliar cars parked near the Hallmans'. Beth met them at the door, two thinks in her hand, her lips painted a scarlet red, her eyes sparkling.
"Hello, lovers, come in, take your clothes off."
They stepped into the hallway and heard the laughter and giggling rising from the basement.
Leaning forward and pressing her lips against Arny's ear, Beth whispered, "Everyone is in the Fuck Room, baby. Join them." She lanced her tongue into his ear and squeezed his penis. Uncontrollably, Arny shivered.
"Get naked, Madge," Beth laughed, placing her drink to her lips and fluttering her eyes. "The boys downstairs can hardly wait to get their hands on you."
"Oh, boy," Madge said, smiling and stepping out of her dress. She winked at Arny, oblivious to the threat caused by her willingness. Arny shivered again, this time from a sense of fear.
Nude, the couple followed Beth down the carpeted stairs to the laughter-filled room.
"Arny, Madge," John said, turning away from the pool table and extending his hand. His wide-toothed smile spread across his face as he stepped toward them, his penis flopping leisurely against his thighs.
The laughter faded as John took the couple by the arms and stood between them. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you to meet two of our best friends, Arny and Madge Tillman."
Arny scanned the room and nodded his head as each of the four couples greeted them.
"Hi."
"Hello, stud."
"Beautiful body."
"Ummmm, hi."
"Wow. You're almost as good as Beth."
He shifted from one foot to the other as he soaked in the characters. They were like anyone else. One couple was on the border of obesity, another couple slim, another couple average. One pair caught his eye. The man was Mexican with, black moustache etched across his upper lip. A woman with long, black hair and almond-shaped eyes sat at his side, her brown, firm body riding and falling with each breath.
"Hello," she said slowly, letting her hand slide across the top of her dark-skinned knee.
Arny nodded.
"Senor, you have a beautiful wife," the moustached man said, standing and extending his hand. John gave them a nudge and Madge and Arny crossed the room as the chitchat grew again and the new couple melted into the group. Beth was in the comer, laughing and toasting with the obese man whose bulging stomach nearly dwarfed his small, shriveled penis.
"My name is Salvadore, and my wife's," he gesticulated toward the silent woman at his side, "is Marguerite. Pleasantly similar to yours, senora," he said taking Madge's hand and kissing the back of it. "If you do not object, senor, I would like to talk to your beautiful wife."
"No, no. Go ahead," Arny said, unable to take his eyes from Marguerite's hypnotic gaze.
"Gracias," Salvadore said, taking Madge by the arm and leading her toward a pillow pile in the corner of the room.
"Sit down, Arny," Marguerite said, her full lips pursing, her gracefully tapered hand with its delicate, long fingers beckoning him to be seated.
He eased down, his eyes roaming over her flesh. "Have you known Beth and John long?" he asked, his throat dry and his heart beating wildly. He sniffed at the fresh scent that wafted up from her skin and teased his nostrils.
"Years," she said, leaning her head back and staring at him. "Salvadore and John do business together."
"Oh," Arny looked surprised. "I thought John was independently wealthy. That he didn't have to work."
"He works." She lolled her head and let her hand rest on Arny's thigh, her fingers gently pressing at his flesh. "And he works hard, too. Don't let him fool you."
"You're very beautiful," Arny said as he watched her eyelids close halfway and her lips part slightly to reveal the pink tip of her tongue.
"Thank you."
"May I kiss you?" Arny asked, feeling like a schoolboy on his first date.
"You may do more than that," she said, reaching up and pulling his head toward hers. He felt the cool, refreshing touch of her lips against his. Her tongue danced at the opening of his mouth, lightly touching his upper and lower lips as he pressed his mouth harder on hers. "Gently," she said, pushing him away. "Love is a gentle thing."
"I'm sorry," Arny said, looking down at her brown breasts, "you have a beautiful body."
"I know. That is why I enjoy this little club. My body is something I should share, like a painting or a statue. It means nothing locked up in a room. It means everything to the public."
"Your own philosophy, or Beth and John's?" Arny asked, a bitter ring to his voice.
She laughed. "Beth and John are amateurs. They are children who think they know everything. We taught them what little they know."
Arny felt a cold wave surge through him. The innocent sensuality of the woman suddenly curdled.
"You!" he gasped.
"Certainly. Do you think they are so smart? They are stupid. I do not know why Salvadore even bothers to do business with John. Perhaps it is Beth and the new ones she brings in for him. He likes Beth. He likes your wife."
Arny glanced toward the pillows. Salvadore had Madge sitting on his chest and was sucking on her breasts, his knee shoved up between her legs as she rocked up and down on his thigh. John and the slim woman were on top of the pool table eating at each other's genitals. Beth was with the fat man, nibbling on his penis and squeezing his fat breasts as if he were a woman.
"See?"
"I see."
"Come with me," Marguerite said, standing and pulling Arny's hand. "Let's go upstairs. We can be alone."
Arny followed her, their movements unnoticed by the fornicating couples. She led the way, her dimpled ass swaying slightly, her long hair bouncing off her smooth back. Arny was confused. He had thought all along that Beth and John were the ringleaders, that they were the directors to the clutch of sin makers. But that wasn't so. They had been hooked too, like he and Madge. It was a vicious circle. He wanted to hate Marguerite. He wanted to, but he couldn't. He didn't know what he wanted anymore.
"Hurry," she said, pulling at his hand as they made their way through the living room and up the stairs toward the bedroom.
They passed a number of small rooms, one which had the door slightly ajar. Arny peeked in as they passed and glimpsed a comer of a desk and part of a filing cabinet. Marguerite tugged at him and he followed her, his eyes darting back to the official-looking room.
"You don't seem to be anxious," she said, leading him into an opulent bedroom. A large, round bed was positioned in the center of the room and Marguerite walked slowly around it.
"I am. I am. I've just never been up here before."
"That's understandable," she said, lying on the bed and pulling a satin pillow beneath her head. "This is supposed to be off limits. Secrets. Many secrets up here."
"Secrets?"
"You know, business secrets. Do you think John does anything legal?" She tossed her head and laughed. "He is a leech, sucking the blood of others. He has no brains, only an odd penis with which he is fascinated." She laughed again. "Bring me a drink from the bar, over there, by the dressing table."
Arny scanned the room, found the bar and poured her a glass of scotch.
"Thank you."
"Hmmmmm." Arny leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head.
"What is this, hmmmmmm?" she asked, sipping her drink and rolling onto her side to face him.
"John fooled me. He said he was independently wealthy. I've been admiring him for some time because of it."
"Independent." She laughed and tossed her hair so that the strands dangled down in front of her face. "He is a bum. He is supposed to sell and he lies around half the time in his bath, playing with the neighbors."
"Sell?"
"Sell. He is supposed to be a businessman. He is only a penis."
"But what is he supposed to sell? I've never seen him go anywhere. I think he just stays in the house all the time."
"Packages. Expensive little packages he receives from my husband. We brought him one tonight, but I doubt if hell sell it before our next visit. Salvadore should drop him."
"Packages? What kind."
She laughed and kissed his chest. "You ask too many questions. Get me another drink and then make love to me. Violently. I need a man, a rough man. A man who will squeeze my breasts until they ache, a man who will push my knees behind my head and ram into me so hard my back almost breaks." Passionately, she kissed him; this time her tongue eagerly searched the inside of his mouth. He returned her kiss and pulled her close, mashing her breasts against his chest until he heard her moan. He could feel the wetness of her vagina rubbing against his thigh as he shoved it between her grasping legs.
"Fuck me, Arny," she hissed, throwing her drink to the floor. "Fuck me as I have told you I want it."
Arny's lips nibbled her flesh, tenderly at first, and then more and more roughly until his teeth were nipping at her flesh, grasping it; and chewing on it. She moaned and bit his neck, her strong teeth sinking deeply into his flesh until he thought he was going to cry in pain. He bit her harder, inching toward the crowns of her breasts. He sucked in a nipple and tugged at it with his teeth until he heard her moan. Her hands fumbled for his penis, found it and began to squeeze, shoving it toward her wet orifice. She snaked her thighs around his waist and locked them tightly until Arny thought he couldn't breathe.
"Screw me. Screw me!" She arched her hips and slid the satin pillow down until it was beneath her rear. Her hands guided his penis into her and the wet lips engulfed its turgid head as she pushed it in and out. "I'll help you," she moaned, lurching up and driving the shaft deep inside her with her hands. "I'll help you fuck me."
For a moment, Arny felt like a flesh-and-blood dildo as the excited woman beneath him shoved his pole into her slippery vagina. He lay quietly, feeling her vagina contracting and relaxing as her slender fingers jacked the staff in and out in a quickening pace. He could feel the passion building in his guts and his breath coming rapidly as her mouth slid across his face, kissing his eyes, his chin, his ears, his mouth. She reached up and grabbed one cheek of his ass with her hand and pulled him against her while the other hand continued its rapid jerking.
Arny began to hump into her, grinding from side to side as he implanted his blood-filled tool farther and farther into her warm cavern. Her tongue lashed inside his mouth and he sucked on its tip, forming an O and letting it slide in and out as his penis was sliding in her vagina.
She released her grip on his penis and placed her hand on his other buttock cheek, pulling him into her as she bounced off the satin pillow. "Ummmm," she moaned sucking at his tongue. "Ummmm."
Sweat broke out over Arny's body and he grabbed her legs with his arms and bent them forward until her knees touched the bed near her head. He leaned forward with all his weight and felt the slit stretch as his pelvis smashed against hers.
"Harder! Deeper!"
He pulled out and rammed in as hard as he could. She moaned as he reached for her arms and shoved them harshly out.
"That's good. That's good." she said, wriggling her arched pelvis against his penis. "Now, suck my tits. Bite them. Suck them until they are black."
Craning his head, Arny licked at her breast until he caught the nipple between his teeth. He pressed her legs up with his shoulders and shoved her arms above her head. Her fingers were rubbing the crevice of his anus, pressing their nailed tips in against the puckered flesh of his asshole. He groaned, as he felt the finger enter, and thrust into her with such force that she cried out and bit his neck. His mouth closed hard around the nipple and he sucked it up against the roof of his mouth. She whimpered as he thrashed his cock inside her. Her legs unlocked from around his waist and she snapped them as he released his hold on them. Again and again she snapped them and each time her pussy seemed to spasm and lock itself tighter like a pair of handcuffs around his invading penis.
"Faster!" she moaned. "Faster!"
Arny's stomach knotted as he strained to ram himself deeper into her. His jaw tightened and he jackhammered into her as fast as he could. The warm, tingling sensation of his sperm working its way up from his testicles sent chills up his spine.
"God! God! God!" she shouted as he felt her legs squeeze around him and her body stiffen. Her mouth searched for his and sloppily, her lips drooling with saliva, she mashed her mouth on his and jabbed her hard tongue into his mouth as she lurched up higher and higher. His semen shot into her in a long stream and his penis jerked and coughed out every ounce of the creamy, mucilaginous fluid.
Their bodies froze in an arched position as she spasmed again and again. Finally, she slumped down, her muscles relaxing, and he felt the warm sensation of his penis softening inside her. She curled up in his arms and sighed as his penis slowly shriveled up and slid, as she coughed, out of her cavity.
"Rub my back," she cooed, her eyelids drooping.
He turned her on her back and let his hands slide over her smooth flesh. He reached around and squeezed her breast and she moaned softly. Gently, he eased his rubbing until he thought she was asleep.
"Marguerite?" he whispered. There was no answer.
Arny slipped off the bed and crept toward the bedroom door. The naked figure shifted and moaned, then fell silent.
His heart pounding, Arny eased out of the room and down the hall toward the room he had seen on his way up. He paused outside it and listened. Satisfied no one was coming, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
It was a small room with a large desk positioned before the window and file cabinet standing to one side of the desk. The top of the desk was bare.
Arny opened the top drawer and pulled out a ledger. Opening it, he scanned the entries. A list of entries in the left column was marked PACKAGES, with each subsequent entry coded by number. Dates received, sold, and amounts paid were entered across the page. The prices caught Arny's eye. $50,000... $20,000... $45,000... $60,000....
Puzzled, he looked through the rest of the book and found a few names and addresses, but nothing more. He closed the book and carefully replaced it where he had found it. He tried the other drawers, finding nothing of significance except a small key sitting under a 3 x 5 metal cardfile.
Taking the key, he turned toward the file and tried one of the drawers. They were locked. He tried the key and it fit.
He opened the bottom drawer and rummaged through it, seeing nothing of interest. The middle drawer drew a blank also. The top drawer had what he was looking for, and something else he hadn't expected.
The file was filled with packages of pictures and tapes. He opened one with the name Martin written on it and saw pictures of John with a middle-aged woman in a 69 position. He pushed the envelopes back until he found the Ts. Tillman. It was there. The pictures and tapes.
Excited, he pulled the envelope out of the file and opened it. Everything was there. All the pictures, the negatives, the tape. He laid it on the desk and started to close the file when he saw it.
It looked like a bar of soap wrapped up in a shiny, metallic wrapper. He picked it up and opened it. A white powder was encased inside the wrapping in a clear plastic soap dish. He wetted his finger and tasted it. It was bitter. He looked at the desk, then back to the file, and then put the soap dish back where he had found it. He closed the file, locked it, and replaced the key. Then, he opened the bedroom window, looked out to see if anyone was about, and dropped the envelope out. He watched it fall into the bushes, safely hidden from view.
Creeping back down the hall, he entered the bedroom unnoticed and slipped next to the sleeping figure. As he touched her back with his trembling hand, she stirred.
"Ummm, been rubbing me to sleep." She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him tenderly on the lips. "Let's go downstairs and see what is happening."
Arny didn't say anything. He just nodded and squeezed her breast.
As they made their way down the stairs, they heard the gurgling sounds of couples panting and moaning and begging for more. Marguerite stood with her hands on her hips, looking around the room at the entwined couples.
"How about that. They didn't even miss us."
"Too bad." Arny smiled, thankful for that.
"Well, guess well just have to turn on ourselves." Elated, he dropped to his knees in front of her and decided he might as well celebrate. If he had it figured right, this would be his last orgy.
"But I just had you," Marguerite whined, looking around the room for an eligible penis.
"But not the real me," Arny said, licking lightly at the woman's clitoris. "You had a scared man upstairs."
She looked down at his gleaming eyes and shrugged. "You Americans are crazy."
"Fuck crazy," Arny said as he let his tongue dive into her snatch and wriggle madly. "Very fuck crazy."
He looked around the room and saw Madge sucking the fat man, saw Beth eating Salvadore's anus, saw John buggering the slender woman, saw them all as a fat cushion of flesh that was about to be fed to famished legal beasts.
"Let's fuck like we've never fucked," Arny said to Marguerite. "Let's pretend this is the last orgy in the world."
Again she shrugged. "Crazy. Crazy. But I'll go along. I always go along." She reached down and pushed his head into her V and sighed as his tongue danced merrily inside her warm hole.
"Hello, police department? Yes. Give me the narcotics division.... Hello? Yes. I can't give you my name, but I can give you some information.... No. I don't know how you follow up on this, but I think I know a man who is pushing heroin. He lives at 4465 Glenfield Ave. His name is John Hallman. The heroin and records are kept in his office on the upstairs floor. The heroin is being transferred to him by a man named Salvadore - from Mexico, I think. Good-bye."
Arny put the phone down, a smile on his face.
"Who were you calling, dear?" Madge said, coming out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her head.
"A pest service. I think we have termites. The exterminators will take care of them."
"Termites?"
"Yes - you know, those little beasts who eat away at your foundation until your house crumbles on top of you when you least expect it?"
"I haven't seen any termites?"
"You have, you just haven't recognized them."
"You're goofy, Arny. Like last night when you were creeping around outside Beth's house after we left. You must be losing your marbles."
"No, dear, I've just found them."
Two days later Madge met Arny at the door. She was out of breath.
"Arny. God, Arny. Something terrible has happened." She clutched her housecoat against her throat, her eyes wide, her nose flaring.
"Slow down, what is it?"
"Beth and John. The police came today, just about one, and drove off with them. Then I heard it on the TV."
"Heard what?" He guided her to the couch and sat her down.
"They're dope sellers. They were caught with a pound of heroin and all kinds of files about selling it to pushers. Oh, Arny, they were our friends. Now, they'll be gone for years. Locked up. What will we do?" Sobbing, she pressed her head into his shoulder.
"And what about those pictures! The police must have found them. And the ones that they'll send? Oh, Arny!" Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"First," Arny said, smiling, "forget about those pictures. If they show up, they show up and there's nothing we can do about it. Second, we can live without Beth and John. I can - can you?"
She was silent for a moment; only her soft sobs could be heard. Then: "I don't know, Arny. I depended on Beth and John. They taught us everything. I don't know. I liked them. I liked the way they did things."
Arny pushed her away and tilted her chin up.
"Now look me in the eye, young lady -" Her tear-stained eyes looked wetly at him. "- and get this straight. The only thing you liked about Beth and John was sex. That was only because you never had any idea what it was all about. Neither did I, for that matter."
He paused and kissed her tenderly on the nose.
"Their kind of sex is wrong. You don't have to force sex on anyone. You don't have to swap mates to enjoy sex -if you use your imagination."
He kissed her eyes, tasting the salty tears.
"Now, we can have a good life together having sex any way we please. We can dress up like different people. I can wear a fake moustache and beard. You can doll up like a floozy or a nun. We can rape each other. We can use phony accents and play games like we're other people. We can do anything we want to ourselves. We don't have to go looking for sex. We're filled with sex. At least we both learned that from those perverts across the street."
He kissed her cheeks and smoothed her hair.
"Madge, I don't want to live a reckless life with other women, I don't want to watch another man make love to you. I don't want to screw another woman just for kicks. I want you. I want us."
He pulled her close to him and whispered in her ear: "We can have our private love, our private sex our private way. Can you forget them? Can you, Madge? Can you love me and start fresh, without any mistakes?"
She squeezed him. "I - I think so, Arny. I'll need help. I'll need a lot of help."
"I'll help," Arny said, pushing her down onto the couch and kissing her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. "I'll help every inch of your lovely body."
As Madge moaned under his caress, Arny felt a new tingling sensation seeping throughout himself. It was the sensation a man feels when he finds something he's been looking for all his life.
Delving his tongue into her vagina, Arny knew what he had found. He had found his wife. And he was sure they'd pull through together, no matter.
