In his book, Wife Swappers, Roger Blake writes: "Wife-swapping, as it is currently practiced, rarely consists of a simple agreement between two couples to trade partners for the night in separate locations with never a word about it afterward between spouses. The very motivation for most people who embark upon such ventures is a pluri-sexual one, a variety of desires including many types of deviant erotic behavior from voyeurism to sadism, masochism to exhibitionism, orgiasm to homosexuality. And because the activities of swappers are enjoyed together either in person or vicariously, nearly all facets of homosexual and heterosexual lovemaking are indulged in, in varying degrees and fashions."
CHAPTER ONE
Damn! after two days of marriage, Sue was still a virgin!
Double damn! Two hours ago she'd nearly had her first lay, but there'd been an interruption. Her husband, Carl, had received an urgent phone call, right when she had her legs spread and was panting for her hubby's penetration.
The latter had jumped from the bed, leaving the mattress bouncing on the bedsprings, and had bounded across the room to grab the receiver. He'd spoken low, but his bride could hear every word.
"A game! Where? ... Yeah, when? ... Big stakes?
... God, that's a lot! Be right over!" He slammed the receiver down and began picking up his clothes from a nearby chair. He'd dressed rapidly.
"What happened?" Sue moaned. "Big game! Lots of loot. Sounds like a real hot one!"
"There's a real hot one going right here!" she protested.
He smiled weakly. "Sorry, honey. This just came up. If I'd known this was going to happen, I wouldn't have worked you up the way I did."
Such utter conceit, Sue thought. He spoke as if she were the only one desperate for sex. She'd wanted his rod, sure. But his rod had obviously been ready for sex, too. And that had been only-what?-thirty seconds ago. And now, as he stepped into his shorts, the organ had shrunken to a third its previous size.
It amazed her how fast his attention could wander!
"Gotta go now." He came over and pecked her on the lips. Then he went to the dresser and looked into the mirror, checking to see that his tie was straight.
"See you later," he said as he approached the door.
"Sure," she mumbled, too hurt to keep her voice steady. "Maybe we can get together again sometime."
Now, two hours later, according to the bedside clock which Sue Simmons watched with growing irritation, Carl still hadn't returned.
And Sue didn't expect him to return until the gray of morning. That's the way it had always been throughout their courtship-and for the first two nights of their marriage. She realized now that life with a gambler wasn't going to be one long romp in bed.
After Carl had left, she'd lingered on the bed long enough to realize that her lust was about to to make her do a very childish thing. So, rather than give in to her urge for self-satisfaction, she got up and took a cold shower. That cooled her passion somewhat, but even under the chilly spray she couldn't keep her hands from straying. She played with her tits until the nipples pointed straight forward. Then, quite naturally, one hand left her breasts and touched between her legs.
She stroked her pussy several times. It felt great. It was just what Sue needed-to be petted and played with, even if she had to do the petting and playing herself.
After ten seconds of genital stimulation, she stopped. It took a lot of will power. She mentally reprimanded herself.
Before marriage, that sort of thing was okay. But never again. Taboo!
Sue was twenty-one, and a lot of women her age would have cautioned themselves against the practice even before marriage. But with a virgin, it was different. A hot-blooded female needed some sort of satisfaction when she wasn't getting screwed for real.
But the prime question was: Why had Sue never been screwed? She'd had dozens of chances to get laid. Hundreds, perhaps.
Maybe all that nonsense her mother had told her about the rewards of chastity had impressed her subconsciously. She'd never agreed with her mother's point of view; she'd even argued endlessly with the woman. The old lady undoubtedly thought that Sue had been warming beds all over town.
That was the impression one got from listening to Sue talk. She blended with the rest of the liberal minds. And yet, she was a virgin! There was no getting around that fact. Her only sister would probably wet her panties if she found out that Sue had never put out.
The two girls used to lie on the twin beds in the room they'd shared and exchange stories. The tales of sex that Maggy told were factual-hot revelations of things that had happened to her in back seats and beneath blankets. Sue would reciprocate by going her sister one better-except that Sue's recollections were purely imaginary.
As she dried herself now in front of the bathroom mirror, Sue recalled how she used to get overheated while relating her own fictions to her sister.
"Then what happened?" Maggy used to whisper from the neighboring bed.
"He got it into me and-"
"I can't hear you. You're talking so breathy! What are you doing, diddling yourself again?" the older girl would jibe.
Then Sue would roll over and refuse to continue. She'd be hurt because her sister's words, though said in jest, had been the truth.
Yes, thought the new Mrs. Simmons, Maggy would never believe that her younger sister had never screwed.
Now Sue took the opportunity to" admire her body. She measured thirty-seven around the boobs, her hips were an inch less, and her waist was twenty-four. Nice body.
Her face was pretty, though a little full. She compensated for its roundness by wearing her hair high. Her legs were shapely. Everywhere she went, she got stared at and sometimes whistled at.
As far as she knew, there was only one thing wrong with her body. It had never been used!
Even her husband must have figured she'd been around a lot. At least, that was the impression she'd tried to give him. Carl was the kind who liked experienced women.
She left the bathroom and walked down the hall to the bedroom of their new house. Taking a pair of sheer nylons from a drawer, she sat on the edge of the bed to don them.
Would Carl be able to tell she was inexperienced? she wondered. Would he be disappointed? Disgusted? She'd simply have to try to deceive him. Excessive movements on the mattress, accompanied by a lot of gasps and groans--that ought to convince him she'd been around.
She visualized the situation in her mind while slipping into frilly panties.
He'd never known she was a virgin. Sue had taken care of that cherry by herself, years ago. When he plunged deep into her yearning cunt, there would be no barrier, nothing to break through. That much was to her advantage.
She recalled the times he'd tried to put the make on her during their two-month engagement.
Always, she had said something like, "No, Carl, I want to save it!"
"You're not a virgin?" he'd asked skeptically, the first time.
"Of course not, silly," she'd replied. "But with us it's something special. Can't we wait till we're married?"
And, reluctantly, he'd grunted his agreement.
As she slipped into her slacks Sue made a momentous decision. She was going to get screwed by somebody, Carl be damned. She wasn't going to put it off any longer. Perhaps she'd been afraid that she wouldn't respond properly with a man's organ inside her. Was that why she'd remained chaste? she wondered.
Why seemed like an insignificant question at the moment. The really burning issue was whom-whom to screw!
Beginning to apply her make-up, she thought first of her brother-in-law, Rick Tooly. He seemed like the most likely candidate, having made a number of passes at her before.
Sue, her mind firmly, irrevocably made up, decided to give the Toolys a call.
While Sue had been getting hot with her new husband-just moments before he'd been called away to that urgent poker game-Maggy Tooly was enjoying a quick tumble with her own spouse.
"Oh, Rick!" she wailed as the large man pounded her again and again against the mattress. "Give it to me, Ricky! Give me everything you've got!"
Rick was doing exactly as she asked. With each forward thrust of his rod, he got closer and closer. He kept his eyes open, watching his wife's face. Her expression conveyed extreme rapture. As he hovered above her, supported on his knees and elbows, he got a good look at her boobs. They bobbed uncontrollably. Rick could see a film of sweat covering her gorgeously oversized breasts. But perspiration wasn't localized on her tits only. She was sweaty all over. Even her blonde bangs were glued to her forehead.
Her legs were bowed and spread widely, the feet planted flat against the mattress. The lower portions of her thighs quivered faintly with each inward surge of her hubby's cock. The upper portions of those firm thighs quivered too, but not faintly. In fact, her leg muscles flexed more and more violently as she neared her culmination.
Continuing to rock against her, Rick ran all ten fingers through his wife's hair, mussing it beyond repair. And Maggy had just had her hair done that morning! But she didn't have time to worry about such trivial matters now.
She was about to come!
He was about to fill her with spurt after spurt of sex fluid.
All that remained to be known was which of them would finish first. It was a race of sorts, though it hardly mattered who won the photo finish so long as they both crossed the line.
Maggy crossed.
"You've got me there! Oh, hon! Screw the life out of me! Yeah, yeah, so good! Oh, darling, yes!" Then Rick crossed.
"Ah!" was all he said, unless there were garbled words concealed beneath his voluminous panting. Half a dozen forceful spasms, and he'd given her all he had. But she continued to quake for thirty seconds longer.
Then they separated and lay side by side. All was
"We better dress," he said at last, still.
"Why?"
"It's too early to go to bed for keeps. I thought I'd run down to the Jones place and see if there's a game going."
He was right about it being too early to sleep. It was just seven-thirty on a Friday night. No work until Monday. By the Jones place, he meant Theodore Jones' mansion-where there was usually a poker game going, particularly on weekends.
"For God's sake, Rick! You're not going down there again?"
"Why not?"
"Why not?" she repeated incredulously. "You lost a hundred eighty bucks last time, and you don't know why not?"
"A hundred eighty is nothing. Everyone goes there with a couple grand minimum. You send me with two hundred bucks. How do you expect me to win?"
"We don't have two thousand," she said simply. "It's that smart-ass brother-in-law of ours that's changed you. You never used to gamble!"
Because they were true, her words annoyed him. Until two months ago he'd never made a bet larger than five bucks in his lifetime. Then he'd gone to his first big poker game with Carl Simmons, and something had snapped. He'd found himself unable to stop playing, even after he'd dropped nearly a grand. When the night was finally over, he was down fourteen hundred bucks! For him, it was a lot of money. But he hadn't been cured. He was compulsive. He knew that when he turned down a chance to ball a secretary at his office. Instead he headed for a poker game, where he managed to drop another eight hundred. So far, in the last two months, he'd lost nearly four thousand dollars, leaving him with eleven hundred in the bank.
"I'll bet Sue doesn't complain about her husband gambling!" he rebutted feebly.
"If I were my sister, I wouldn't complain either. You know what the one big difference is between Carl and you?"
"What?"
"Carl's a winner!"
Her words stabbed him to the core. They were viciously true.
"He's been lucky so far," Rick argued.
"He's a professional, Rick. He knows what he's doing."
"What does that make me?"
She thought, decided she'd already hurt her man sufficiently. "It makes you a far better stud," she said. "I'll bet you can screw rings around Carl. You're bigger than he is." She glanced at his massive arms and wide chest, then at his receding penis. "You're bigger there, too!"
"How would you know?"
"Just speculation," she said casually. "Purely speculation, my dear husband!" She said it in such a way that Rick couldn't tell if she was telling the truth or not. She had wanted her words to sound ambiguous. He was a jealous husband, and maybe if he was suspicious he'd be more apt to stay home more often.
Maggy had cheated on Rick four times in their three years of marriage-but never with Carl Simmons.
She wondered about her husband's fidelity. She would wager that he'd skipped out a couple of times himself. But she'd never stumbled onto any evidence to support that theory.
"Why can't you be like other husbands and screw a whore now and then?"
"Don't talk dirty," he cautioned her. Such words were all right with him for expressing passion, but he didn't like his wife to use them otherwise.
"I'll talk dirty if I damn well want to. I'd rather have you out laying a whore than out losing our whole savings!"
"I'll win tonight," he swore.
"That's what you say every night. Come over here." When he didn't move from his half of the bed, she scuttled over to him. She straddled his belly, sitting firmly upon him.
"You're wet!" he moaned.
"It's not me, darling. It's you."
"Well, it doesn't feel good."
"Maybe it feels better here," she said, sliding down to his limp rod. Using the fringes of her crevice, she lubricated his organ. It began to rise, though only slightly.
"How 'bout another round?" she asked. "Gotta go," he protested, gazing at the clock on the dresser.
"I gotta go too, hon! I gotta go, go, GO! And you're the only one who can help me!"
Sue dismounted and planted her lips squarely on his rod. He grimaced. She kissed the head several times, then flicked her tongue out.
That did it!
Within ten seconds he had a seven-incher!
"My God! That was quick," she squealed, her voice somewhat distorted since her mouth was busy at the moment.
"Keep it up," he insisted, beating two huge fists against the mattress. "You wicked bitch!"
She removed her lips instantly. "What did you say?" she asked, grinning.
"All right," Rick conceded. "You're not a bitch."
Mag went back to work on him then. She got him hotter than ever. And his grunts, groans and garbled words turned her on in the process.
She was so turned on that she had to discontinue her oral activity and clamber atop the powerful form of her husband. Such a big man, she thought. Such a great, gorgeous hunk of man! And then she climbed aboard the six-two, two-hundred-ten pound frame.
Her pussy was ready, had been made slippery by their previous intercourse. His rod slid immediately into the farthest depths, encountering no resistance on the way in.
"This is going to be fast," she cautioned. "It's got to be fast. I can't do it any other way. I'm too hot!"
And she was true to her word. She pounced on him rapidly, rising so high that he almost slipped out of her, then plunging down heavily. On half the strokes, she descended so hard that there was a crisp slap as their bodies collided. Mag was taking him at the rate of about four thrusts every five seconds.
She would have accelerated even more if she'd been physically capable. Within two minutes after they'd united, Mag hit her peak. Her inner muscles contracted, sending waves of absolute pleasure pulsating throughout her body.
That was when the phone rang.
"Don't answer it!" Rick gasped, his own passion building to the point where it was about to explode just as Mag's had.
"But darling, it might be important!"
She kept him in her and reached for the phone, which was on the nightstand only a few feet away. He almost slipped out as she stretched, but they managed to maintain the union.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Mag. This is Sue."
"Dear sister, if you only knew what you just interrupted! I'd tell you, except the phone company might discontinue our service."
Sue giggled. "I'll bet I can guess."
While this conversation was going on, Rick was trying to ignore the whole thing. He continued to lurch at his wife from beneath her.
"What's on your mind, little sister? You're supposed to be on-oh, God, Ricky, yes!-your honeymoon. I know that you didn't go anywhere for your honeymoon, but I thought-keep it up, you bull!-I thought that-ah!--you were going to spend the week at home without seeing or talking to-harder!-anyone."
"Maggy!" squealed Sue from the other end. "You're not doing it! Not this very minute?"
"Yes, dear. I'm afraid we are. Oh! Ah! I should've known better than to-God!-answer the phone!"
"For God sakes, why didn't you say something? I think I'd better call you back later."
"Why don't you do that, Suzy? In about-you wonderful stud! Ah, yes!-in about ten minutes, okay?"
Mag didn't wait for her younger sister to affirm. She merely slapped the receiver down and continued with the more pressing matter.
CHAPTER TWO
Rick and Maggy had begun dressing when the phone rang again. Mag answered.
"Are you through yet?" Sue asked from the other end of the line.
Mag giggled. "Yes, hon," she said. "We finished just a couple of minutes ago. What can we do for you?"
"As a matter-of-fact, there is something you can do. I'm in a bind. I promised to meet a friend at eight, and my car won't start."
"Where's Carl?" Mag wanted to know.
"He's gone to a poker game."
"What? On your honeymoon? I figured he'd forget about business for a couple of days, at least."
"It was a pretty important game," Sue said.
"Yeah, kid. I know your problem. My darling hubby's going to a game right now. The very same one, I'd venture to say." Mag continued to talk into the receiver, but she addressed her husband. "Is that right, dear? Are you going to the same game that Carl went to?"
Rick was now fully dressed except for his shoes. He used a shoehorn to slip into his oxfords. "How the hell should I know where Carl went?"
Mag shifted her talk back to Sue. "I'll have Rick drop by your house on the way. It's after eight now. Does your 'friend' know you're going to be late?"
Sue, of course, had lied about having to meet a friend. Her only concern was balling with her brother-in-law. It amused her that Mag had concluded she was going to meet a male friend.
Mag always suspected the worst of her younger sister.
The worst? Sue was about to warm the sack with Mag's husband. What could be worse than that?
"Yes. I called my friend and told her I'd be a little late."
"Just between you and me," Mag speculated, "I'll bet your girl friend wears men's clothes and a jock strap. Well, Suzy, that's none of my business. I'll kick the old man out of the house, and he'll be there in a jiffy. I wouldn't want my sister-in-distress to get all hot-pantsed thinking about meeting her girl friend!" Mag hung up, smiling snidely.
"I wish you wouldn't talk that way," Rick said, shaking his head.
"Why not?"
"Not over the phone, at least. Do you realize what the phone company could do to you?"
"What?"
Rick shook his head slowly. He didn't know what, but he imagined the penalty could be severe.
"Sue's car won't start. I told her you'd stop by and see what you could do."
"Yeah, all right," Rick consented, not happy about the situation.
At eight-fifteen, Rick arrived at the Simmons house and rang the doorbell.
"Hi, there!" Sue greeted, opening the door.
She was stunningly attired. Her bright red stretch pants fitted so tightly that Rick could see the crease of her butt clearly, as well as the crevice between her legs. The hem of her short-sleeved white blouse was tucked in neatly, making the front to protrude all the more noticeably around her boobs. Her coppery hair was carefully piled atop her head in a very becoming style.
"Well, come in!" she insisted, when Rick remained in the doorway.
She couldn't help but take a deep breath as she surveyed his body apprehensively. Her brother-in-law stepped into the house and Sue closed the door behind him.
"Won't you sit down?"
"Mag said something about your car being stalled." He wanted to get right to the point. There was a poker game in progress.
"Did she?"
"Well, yes. She said."
"But, of course, you knew better, didn't you, Ricky?"
He had taken the nearest chair, sitting on the edge of it.
"Well ... no."
"You didn't really think my car wouldn't start!" She stood above him, her form so gorgeous that, even in his anxiety over getting to the card game, Rick couldn't keep his eyes off her.
"If your car's all right, why did you-?"
"To get you over here and into bed with me, darling," she answered, before he completed the question. "What else?"
"Susan!"
"Why you're not shocked, are you, Ricky? After all, you've tried to make me quite a few times, haven't you?"
"Well, sure. But, Christ, Sue, you always turned me down flat!"
"Let's just say that I've changed my mind."
He was flabbergasted. He found his wife's sister's body arousing, even after the draining love bout with Maggy, a bout that had ended less than an hour ago. There had been times when Rick would have given one of his nuts to get into Sue's panties-but that was before he'd become a compulsive gambler.
"I can't," he stammered as she came over to his chair and ran the backs of her fingers beneath his chin. "There's some place I've got to go."
"You mean you'd rather play poker than make love to me?"
He shook his head, then answered truthfully, "I'm afraid so."
"My God! What kind of man are you?"
He shrugged. "I just don't know what's come over me, Suzy. Ever since that first big game, it's been a , nightmare. I just can't stop."
The words flowed from his lips. She was the first one he'd made this confession to. "I'm getting in deeper and deeper. It's worse than alcohol."
Sue felt sympathy for him. She positioned herself in his lap, saying, "Poor dear. Why don't you just give it up? Why don't you just say, 'From this moment on, I'm not going to gamble any more'?"
"I wish I could," he admitted as she wiggled her rear end firmly into his lap. "But I'm hooked."
Rick might have reacted to the warmth of her body if he hadn't been so eager to leave for the card game. At the moment, though, not even the seductive perfume that Sue had just applied was having any effect on him.
With Sue it was a different story. She felt a yearning in the pit of her panties that was as hot as any she'd ever experienced. She felt empty inside, and she knew exactly what could fill her emptiness.
A dick. Rick's dick, specifically.
She could feel it against her fanny, but it wasn't doing anything. She could detect no firmness, no hardening whatsoever. She wriggled more actively in his lap, expecting her bold movements to bring results. But she was disappointed.
"Get up, Susan, please!"
"Oh, for Chrissakes!" she hooted, springing from his lap in annoyance. "Are you some kind of queer or something?"
"You know I'm not." His face was reddening.
"Then show me," she begged. "Follow me to the bedroom." She took several strides toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms and den.
Rick didn't budge.
"I just had a workout," he mumbled feebly.
"Yeah, I know. But surely my sister couldn't have done you in with one session. Come on, Ricky. One lay is all I want. That's all. Just one lousy little lay. It'll only take ten minutes."
Ten minutes, hell! he thought. The way he felt, it was likely to take ten hours!
"Susan, I-"
"Oh, go on, then!" she yelled, frustrated nearly to the point of tears. "My God! This is the first time I ever made a pass at a man, and you turn me down! It's just too much!" She actually started sobbing. And while the tears flowed, she wailed, "I've never been so humiliated in my entire life!"
Humiliated, perhaps, wasn't the best word for it. Hot was more apt. She was so hot now that she just wanted to have Rick out of the house. If he wasn't going to do anything to her, she was going to have to take care of her own needs, ugly as the idea seemed.
Rick, however, was having a change of heart.
Sue's tears had impressed him, made him feel guilty for having refused to accommodate her. After all, this wasn't a perfect stranger begging to be studded. This was his wife's sister. He felt obligated to satisfy her. He rose from the chair.
"How come you rejected me before your marriage, and now you want to put out on the second day of your honeymoon?"
"Honeymoon!" she repeated sarcastically. And that was all she said.
Her implication wasn't clear to Rick. But, then, Rick didn't know that she hadn't been laid by her husband during these past two days; he didn't know that she'd never been laid by any man in her entire lifetime!
She was still sobbing softly when he came to her and wrapped one arm about her shoulders.
"Did you change your mind?" she asked.
"Yes," he said simply.
They went down the hall together and entered the master bedroom. The bridal bed, Sue thought cynically. Arm in arm, they tumbled onto the mattress.
"Kiss me," she demanded, her voice choked with need.
He kissed her, his lips covering her mouth. They lay on their sides with their eyes open, seeing each other as blurred entities. When her tongue ventured beyond her lips and between his teeth, Sue felt sensuously dizzy.
Rick felt nothing.
He was worried. The longer it took him to build his excitement, the later he would arrive at the poker game. Paradoxically, the more he tried to become excited, the less able he was to become aroused. Only a couple of months ago, he'd thought of himself as a skilled stud. And now he couldn't even perform for two females in one night.
Sue pulled her body tightly against his as the kiss continued. She could feel the heat inside her panties. The clinging of her stretch slacks between her legs served to increase her desire.
"Damn!" she exclaimed, grinding her pelvis to his. "You're not hard! Oh, please get hard, baby! I'm burning up for you!" All these words were said into his mouth while her tongue continued to flick forward and duel with his. She lowered one hand and felt his dick through his trousers.
Still nothing.
"I'm trying," he explained. And he was trying, though obviously he wasn't trying hard enough.
She undid his belt, then his zipper. She parted the fly in the front of his underpants and extracted his rod. Tickling the head with her thumb and forefinger, she tried desperately to excite him. She was partially successful, but not successful enough. The result of her caressing was rather pathetic. The effect was far too little to facilitate intercourse. She moaned and stroked it more vigorously.
"It's no use," he said.
She pulled her mouth from his, a thin trail of saliva bridging their lips as she backed away. "I know how," she said.
She instantly went down on his limp organ.
He began to feel things happening inside him. There was a fluttering in his stomach, followed by a delightful dizziness. His cock began rising.
"Suzy!" he gasped.
"I told you I knew how."
Her lips and the tip of her tongue continued to pay homage to his rod until, thirty seconds later, it was fully erect. But she didn't stop then. She was too impressed with its size and too amazed by its hardness. She continued to tongue it, licking more rapidly now.
"Oh, Suzy!"
She yearned for union, but she was unable to pull her mouth away. She hung on while her own passion built sky high. Now she made slow, circular motions with the tip of her tongue, causing Rick to arch from the bed. She took him in more deeply, and her head began to bob.
"Suzeee!"
She went on paying tribute this way, while he continued to lurch toward her uncontrollably. He was still many minutes away from soaring off into total ecstasy, but he was getting there.
Sue wasn't about to give him full satisfaction in this way, though. She pulled her lips away and swallowed. The lingering flavor of his flesh was strangely appealing.
She jumped from the bed and peeled her slacks off. Instinctively, he began to strip, too. He felt wild with the need of her. She was even more desperate for him. They were nude in a jiffy.
"Feel my titties!" she pleaded, moments later, flinging herself prostrate on the mattress.
Because she was face-down on the bed, there was an immediate problem if he was to do as she demanded. However, she braced herself on knees and elbows, making his task easy. Rick came up behind her, his rod brushing against her rear. He cupped her boobs.
She wailed as he fondled, wondering what the feeling would be like when he put it in her. After all these years of wondering how the real thing would feel, she was delirious with the knowledge that it was actually going to happen within the next few minutes.
Continuing to rub himself against her butt, half accidentally and half purposely, he squeezed her nipples between his fingers.
"I'm going out of my mind!" she hissed.
Rick left one hand to fondle her breasts and brought the other down to her honey-pot. He rubbed around the fluff, fondling the fringes. Then he allowed two of his fingers to be swallowed by her damp cunt.
And damp was a conservative description. Rick couldn't remember ever having felt a woman so sopped, unless it was on the second go-round. Sue's juiciness simply amazed him.
Sue had been finger-petted on other occasions, had often reached a climax that way. She was going to reach a climax now, too, if he continued to fondle her for much longer.
Rick had other ideas.
He withdrew his fingers and moved up snugly behind her to claim her.
"Aaah!" she screamed as he forced himself into the depths of her.
He pulled back, then shot forward, pulled back, shot forward again. As he did, he cupped her breasts tightly, feeling the taut nipples pressing against the middles of his palms.
Sue pushed her knees outward until they were as far apart as possible. She made sharp nasal sounds as he plunged into her again and again.
His pace quickened.
Her head was swimming. She gazed down toward the pillow, but could see nothing but a blur of white. All form was lost because of her crazy passion. She was dizzier than she'd ever been in her life.
Dizzy with the feel of real sex. And all this time she'd been worried that her first tumble might not be as good as she'd hoped. She need worry no longer. Everything was far, far better than she'd imagined. What would Rick think if he knew he was taking a virgin? She didn't know. But in one giddy, sex-crazed instant, she decided to tell him.
"This is my first time!" she managed to gasp.
"What?" he grunted, his pace not altering.
"My first time, baby! Honest."
For several seconds he said nothing. He went on taking her with thrust after thrust of his mighty body. Then he grunted, "You mean ... you never tried it ... dog fashion ... before?"
"No," she groaned, "I mean you're the first one who ever laid me. And it's good, darling. So terribly, awfully good! Believe it or not-ah!-you're the first guy to ever get between my legs!"
Thrusting, twisting, lurching, Rick was spinning closer and closer to his climax. Sue wasn't too far away, either.
"What?" he managed to grunt. "You can't be serious!"
Instead of just taking what he had to give, Sue began some awkward movements of her own. She worked her butt back toward him with every forward lurch he made. Sometimes she would feel a surge of pain, due to her lack of experience. But the degree of pleasure was so great that any unpleasant sensations were triply compensated for.
"What about Carl?" he asked.
"Unh-uh. He hasn't gotten around to laying me yet!"
Both of them accelerated the pace. And, jointly, they got nearer and nearer to the climax.
"Jesus!" he mumbled, his sex-mad brain trying to comprehend what Sue had just told him. It didn't make sense. He'd always figured his sister-in-law was a pretty wild piece. She'd given him the impression that she'd screwed a lot of guys.
"Jesus!" he said again, feeling a throb of sensation approaching the tip of his cock.
"Pound me," she whispered. "Pound me, hard, now, baby. Hardl" she added, the whisper turning into a full-fledged wail.
He advanced and retreated as rapidly as he could, really slamming into her, now.
"I'm coming!" she screamed. "I'm coming all over!"
He could feel the inner muscles of her cunt contracting, squeezing his rod until it spasmed too.
Deep within her, his hot passion spewed.
"Oh!" she cried. "Oh, Ricky! That feels so good!"
Long after his orgasm had ended, she was experiencing the last waves of her culmination. Then, weak and shaking, she pulled her elbows from the mattress and fell flat on her stomach. Rick, trying to stay inside her, landed on her back, his weight crushing her to the bed.
She grunted.
He rolled off.
For five minutes they lay side by side, neither of them speaking. At last she said, "Ricky?"
"Hmm?"
"About what I told you ... about being a virgin. I was just talking out of my head. It isn't true, of course."
He looked at her eye to eye. His eyes said he didn't believe her.
And she realized it was no use trying to fool him. "All right," she admitted. "It was true. But you won't tell anyone, will you? I'd just die if anyone else ever found out!"
"Our secret," he agreed. Then he rolled off the bed and began picking his clothing up from the floor, where he had hastily strewn it.
Sue made no effort to get dressed. She remained prone on the mattress, smugly satisfied. She was content as a kitten after drinking a bowl of fresh milk. She even felt like purring.
She watched as he stepped into his underwear, concealing the organ that had given her so much pleasure only moments earlier. She was happier than she could remember ever having been before. Her only regret was that, for all these years, she'd been missing out on a hell of a lot of fun.
When Rick was dressed, he looked down at her and smiled appreciatively at her bare body.
"Gotta go now," he said.
"Hope you win, Rick. Really, is there anything I can do? Anything, to make you kick this gambling fever?"
He shook his head. "No. I've tried everything. Wishing me luck is about the best thing you can do for me, thanks. By the way, how did you ever manage to stay a virgin so long?"
Sue shrugged. "Woman's secret," she said. "When can you come to me again?"
He put it to her bluntly. "I think this better be the first and last time, Suzy. I enjoyed it, and I don't want you to think that I didn't. But you're married now, and
... well, it just isn't right."
"But you were married when you made passes at me before," she pointed out.
"Yes, that's true. Maybe I'm just rationalizing, but I'd hate to think my wife was cheating on me. I figure if I stay out of bed with other fellows' wives, they'll stay out of bed with mine."
That was certainly an immature way of looking at it, Sue thought. Poor Ricky. Mag was probably bed-hopping all over town, and Rick didn't even know it. Wow! If he ever found out, there was likely to be all kinds of fireworks!
"If you ever change your mind," she said, "you know where to find me."
"I know where to find you," he repeated, and went out the door.
As he left, she blew him a kiss and he winked back at her.
Carl Simmons was almost five grand ahead for the night. He'd been involved in five big pots and had won all of them. His chips were stacked before him in tall columns.
"Eight hundred," announced Theodore Jones, shoving sixteen fifty-dollar chips onto the table.
Jones was a multi-millionaire. The basement of his mansion, where the poker game was being conducted, was uniquely decorated. All four walls surrounding the poker table were covered with murals depicting naked women in wanton poses.
That was indicative of Jones' taste. Upstairs, there was a continual supply of real women, all exquisitely formed and ready to pounce in bed whenever Theodore desired. Jones was in his mid-fifties, not terribly old looking, but not very handsome. Obviously, when his ladles went to bed with him, they did so purely for the money and the prestige. From time to time, one of the girls would prance down the stairs and make sure that the Old bastard was comfortable and had everything he needed.
"Drinks?" asked the girl who had just descended the stairs.
Carl took his eyes off his cards momentarily, appraising the top-heavy miss.
"Bring us a round," the host instructed.
"Sure, Teddy," she said, and ran back up the stairs.
"I call," said Carl, pushing the appropriate number of chips onto the table.
Besides Carl and the host, there were five other men seated at the table. There was one other professional gambler, and the rest were wealthy businessmen. The only one who ever played in the game who was neither rich nor a professional card-player was Rick Tooly, and so far this evening, Rick hadn't showed up.
Carl hoped Rick wouldn't come tonight, because he always lost money and could ill afford it. Carl felt vaguely guilty, since he'd been the one who had introduced Rick to big-stakes poker. At the time, Carl had had no way of knowing that his brother-in-law would turn out to be a compulsive gambler.
"I've got three aces," Jones proclaimed, spreading all five cards on the table.
The five other men puffed on cigars and cigarettes, blew smoke toward each other, and waited for Carl to announce his hand.
"Flush," said Carl, laying the hand face up on the table. Then, wordlessly, he raked in the chips. The hand had netted about a two-thousand-dollar profit.
At that moment, Rick walked into the game room.
"Game's full," Jones told him rather apologetically. Seven players were the maximum allowed.
Rick took a chair near the players and waited hopefully for someone to leave. One of the businessmen departed about twenty minutes later, and Rick bought into the game.
At the same time, Carl excused himself from the table. He knew that if he remained in the game, his brother-in-law's chances would be lessened.
He went upstairs.
Seating himself in an enormous, velvety chair, he lit a long cigar and relaxed. For a couple of minutes he studied the erotic paintings on the surrounding walls. There was even a striking portrait of Jones himself-one which he'd posed for in the nude when he was much younger. There was a graphic scene of two Lesbians going down on each other, and one of two couples copulating on the same bed.
Suddenly his attention changed from the wall portraits to some more down-to-earth action. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a movement down the hallway to his right. He turned in that direction.
Sure enough, one of Jones' girls was ducking into a bedroom, clad in nothing but a bra-and even that hung loosely. He was certain that he could hear ecstatic giggling coming from the same bedroom. And there were at least two voices coming from within-both female.
So what? he thought. Two of Ted's girls were probably diddling each other. You couldn't blame them, he thought. It probably got pretty monotonous waiting upstairs, hours on end, while the poker game went on endlessly. From what Carl had seen of the girls, he didn't figure any of them to be true Lesbians. They probably just carried on with each other from time to time, or maybe they swung both ways.
About ten minutes later, four girls emerged from the bedroom and came, scantily dressed, into the living room. The giggled in unison when they spied Carl.
Casually, he blew smoke toward them.
"Hi, lover," said the nearest one. "You're cute. What's your name?"
"Carl," he said.
She came over to him and perched herself in his lap, surprising him with her forwardness. "I'm Tula, my friends are Mary, Sharon and Paula." She nodded to one of the other three as she mentioned each of their names.
Tula had the biggest bust, but all were well stacked. Tula was the one who'd come downstairs earlier to order drinks. The others he'd seen on previous nights.
All the girls wore only panties and bras, except for Tula, who also had on a garter belt and patterned nylons.
She leaned backward and kissed Carl passionately on the lips.
"I want some loving," she said simply, again catching Carl off-guard with her boldness. "I'll bet you've got just what I need."
"Hey, girls," Sharon cried playfully, "we'd better leave. I think these two lovebirds want to be left alone."
All three giggled.
"Don't bother," Tula said. "We'll go warm the bedroom. Come on, champ."
She was out of his lap and heading for the hallway. Carl laid his cigar in an ashtray, leaving it to die a slow death. He didn't care for Tula's directness, finding it somehow unfeminine. But a lay was a lay. And he couldn't think of a better way to sit out a poker game.
"Bye-bye, stud," Mary shouted after him as he disappeared down the hallway and turned into the bedroom behind Tula.
Tula sat on the edge of the bed.
"You're kind of aggressive for a woman," Carl said in an uncomplimentary tone.
"If you don't like it, why did you accept?"
"A free lay is better than no lay at all," he philosophized.
"My, my! Is that supposed to hurt my feelings? Listen, honey, just save the lecture, huh? I'm a big girl, and I know what I like. Get your clothes off, okay, lover?"
He stood over her, but didn't begin to undress. She caressed the insides of her thighs with her palms. Her fingertips wandered to the double-strength material at the crotch of her panties, and she pressed hard there.
"Oh, come on, baby! I can hardly wait!" she wailed. "You look like you're doing all right all by yourself."
"Don't be ridiculous, lover. I need a man. Nothing else will do, so hurry up, baby. Take those clothes off before I rip them off!"
"You didn't need a man a few minutes ago," he countered. "You girls seemed to be having a ball without any guys around."
"That was just for kicks, dear. I'm not gay. Try me, and you'll find out. Even college coeds warm the beds with other coeds once in a while. That doesn't mean they're going to turn out to be Lesbians, does it?"
He supposed she was right. He reached for his tie and loosened it. Then he undid his belt buckle.
"Can't you go any faster?" she asked.
He paid no attention to her. While slowly slipping out of his trousers, he gave her the once-over. The most impressive thing about her was her legs-the firm thighs and rounded calves-but her boobs were pretty impressive too. Carl was a pretty good guesser, and he judged that she had a thirty-nine or forty-inch bust.
She slipped out of her bra.
The boobs bounced like springs, once freed of their holsters. Carl now studied her face. It was pretty, though not beautiful. Her nose was a shade too large, her eyes a little too narrow. Her platinum-dyed hair fell in bangs across her forehead.
She slipped off her garter belt and her nylons, leaving only her panties to be discarded. By this time Carl was down to his underwear and socks. He removed his undershirt and sat on the edge of the bed beside her.
Now she studied his form, noted that he was of average weight and height, and very handsome. Evidently she liked what she saw, because she groaned inwardly.
"Feel me here," she demanded, taking one of his hands and placing it on her panties.
Carl let his fingers remain there for a few seconds, then pulled them away. He reached for her tits instead. By centering his attention immediately on her honeypot, he could turn this into a short romp. But he figured that Rick would be playing poker for about an hour-the usual amount of time-before going broke. Might as well take as much time with this broad as I can, Carl figured.
"You like me?" she asked archly.
He didn't feel like complimenting her. "You're evidently an easy lay," he said.
"Easy, sure. And wild, too. You're going to like me, stud. I'm going to give you a ride you ain't had in years!"
"Promises, promises."
Until that moment, Carl wasn't excited in the least. Then Tula reached under the elastic of his briefs and gripped his peter. She squeezed gently, and it began to grow. Lowering his lips to her left tit, he sucked the nipple until it became taut. Then he shifted his attention to the right boob. She squealed loudly and worked more vigorously with his rod, which was nearly fullsize already.
"You married?" she asked.
"What difference does it make?"
"No difference. I just wanted to know."
"Maybe," he said coolly. He didn't feel in the mood to volunteer a lot of private information. This was just some loose chick, hot and ready, and she didn't deserve anything but the barest courtesy.
Courtesy like shoving his cock up to the hilt when she asked for it.
Courtesy like giving her a couple ounces of fluid he had no use for anyway.
"All right, so don't tell me. Just screw the hell out of me and leave. That's what they all do."
"That's what you want, isn't it?"
"Yes, stud. That's what I want. Now suppose you quit playing with me upstairs and feel me down below." She continued to stroke him while talking.
He removed both hands from her boobs and moved them southward. He traced the ridges of her panties at the tops of her thighs; then, when he neared that hot area of her passion, he forced his fingers inside the edge of the material. His touch slid along the outer ridges, already lubricated by a combination of sweat and sex-dew.
"Make me, sugar!"
"I'll make you when I get damned good and ready," he told her. Actually, he was damn good and ready. And if he hadn't been deriving so much pleasure out of getting her overheated, he would have taken her right then and there.
But he didn't like the girl, and he wanted to hiake her suffer, even if it meant that he was going to have to suffer in the process.
For perhaps ten minutes, he toyed with her, stroking and massaging her pussy. She reciprocated by squeezing and teasing his cock, until at last there was no holding back. His will power was blinded by the magnitude of his need. Tula was hissing forth her terrible craving as he stripped her panties away and peeled off his briefs.
"Now, stud, now!"
"All right, bitch!" he gritted. "Now!"
He shoved her viciously onto her back and wasted no time ramming himself into her depths. She wailed, whined, whispered, and wheezed.
He merely gnashed his teeth and groaned while emitting his hot breath into her face. Her arms imprisoned his shoulders, drawing him as near to her as possible. Her boobs served as cushions for him to rest his weight on while grinding into her with every muscle at his command.
"Oh, you hairy bastard! Press, press!"
He pressed with all his might, feeling white flashes of ecstasy growing hotter and hotter with every thrust. She twisted upward, seeking to take in as much of him as she could, seeking to engulf and swallow.
"Now, now, now!" she groaned, her inner muscles spasming. She slammed her body upward at him, tearing through the skin on his shoulders with her long nails.
"You filthy bitch," he murmured under his breath as he felt himself losing control. Then he pounded her with all his might. Her ecstasy increased to the greatest possible height, while his exploded in a series of throbs that left both of them breathlessly exhausted.
CHAPTER THREE
You're a hell of a good stud," Tula praised Carl, as he stepped into his trousers. "Why don't we do this again sometime?"
"No thanks."
"Oh, come on, lover. Why are you so mean to me? I gave you a good ride, didn't I? Just like I promised?"
"You gave me a good ride," he admitted dryly, tucking in his shirt.
"Then why don't you want to lay me again sometime?"
He slid his tie underneath his collar, walked over to the dresser and looked into the mirror. He began to knot the tie without answering her.
"Hey! I asked you why you don't want to do it again."
Finishing with his tie, he walked back to the foot of the bed, where he slipped into his shoes. Still he said nothing.
"Shit! Can't you at least speak to me? I want to know why you won't see me any more," she demanded, for the third time."
He went to the door, but before exiting, he turned to face her. "The reason is that you're simply a one-time piece. It's like with the movies, sweetheart. The good ones you don't mind seeing again, but the cheap ones you sit through once and then try to forget them."
He went out, leaving the naked girl on the bed with a puzzled look on her face, pondering the significance of what he'd just told her.
In the hallway, he encountered another of Jones' girls. This one he'd never seen before. He wondered how many women the millionaire kept around. There seemed to be a new smiling face at every corner.
She laughed. "The girls told me you shacked up with Tula. Did she do all right in bed?"
"You should know," he said, passing by the girl as her smile vanished.
He couldn't figure Ted Jones. If Carl had been single with money galore, he probably would have kept a supply of women around a mansion, too. But he'd have chosen chicks with class. These second-rate broads of Jones' were all body and no brains. Well, he thought, to each his own.
He descended the stairs.
The poker room was smoke-filled. Rick sat there looking dismal; in front of him were less than a hundred dollars worth of chips. Carl stood ten feet from the table and watched the hand in progress.
The two players involved in the hand were Rick and Jones. Jories bet ninety-some dollars. He would have bet more, had Rick possessed enough chips to cover the wager.
Rick called. And lost.
He got up from the table, spied Carl and went over to the corner of the room to confront him.
"Could you loan me a couple hundred?" Rick asked softly, so as not to be overheard.
"A couple hundred isn't going to do you any good in this game."
"It might. Never can tell, maybe I'll hit a lucky streak."
"How much are you down?"
"Tonight? Oh, about seven hundred."
"Not just tonight. How much since you started playing?"
Rick totaled the sum in his head. During the last two months, he'd lost about forty-seven hundred dollars. "Not too much," he lied.
Carl knew better, but he didn't want to press the issue. He walked over to a table in the corner of the room where he'd left his chips. He took three hundred dollars' worth from the top of his stack and placed them in Rick's palm.
"Good luck," he said, though his voice lacked enthusiasm.
"Thanks," said Rick, concerned that he'd had to beg money from his brother-in-law after screwing the man's wife earlier in the evening. It seemed like a rotten thing to do.
Returning to the table, Rick proceeded to lose the three hundred in the next dozen hands. He reluctantly left the table and approached Carl, who had stood nearby and watched.
"Come on upstairs," Carl insisted. "I think we'd better have a talk."
They went upstairs, Carl leading the way.
In the living room they were greeted by two members of Jones' harem. One, a blonde, wrapped her arms around Carl and ground her pelvis against his. The other, a brunette, met Rick with a kiss. Both men fought off the girls. They had more serious business to attend to.
They went up the hallway to the den. Finding the room vacant, Carl closed the door behind them, then turned the lock. Rick' sat in an easy chair, and Carl took one opposite him.
"You're in pretty damned deep, aren't you?" Carl asked.
Rick averted his eyes, merely shrugged his shoulders.
"For God's sake! You can trust me. Confess. How far are you in?"
"A lot. I keep thinking I'm going to hit a big winning streak, but it never happens."
"You're compulsive, aren't you?"
What good would it do to lie? Rick wondered. "Yes. I'm in up to my ass!"
"Does your wife know?"
"She knows. She keeps trying to get me to quit. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I never would have started. But it's too late now. I'm down to the bottom of the barrel. My God, Carl, I'm going to lose my house! I don't have enough left to make the payments!"
Carl whistled softly. He hadn't realized his brother-in-law was in such severe trouble.
"Maggy will probably divorce me, and I can't blame her."
Carl felt that Rick was laying it on a little thick, obviously plugging for a loan. "How much do you need?"
Rick was startled by Carl's directness. He considered. "Well, there's the house payments, and to see me through the next month or so, I'll need-"
"How much?"
"A grand."
"I'll write you a check for fiteen hundred...." He paused. " ... But there's a condition. No more gambling. Got that? The money is not to be used for wagers of any kind."
That seemed like a fair stipulation. "Sure," Rick said.
Carl wrote a check and handed it to him. "You better keep your ass away from the card games, you understand?"
"Yeah. Thanks. I understand."
Then, because he didn't want to be too severe with his brother-in-law, Carl asked, "How's Maggy?"
"Maggy's fine. How's Sue?" It was an unnecessary question, since Rick had seen Sue more recently than Carl had, and Rick knew exactly how Sue was. She was content and sexually satisfied, thanks to him.
"She's like any new bride," Carl said. "Hot-pantsed, if you know what I mean." He went toward the door, then paused. "By the way, if you're looking for a cheap piece, try the one with the big boobs and the platinum hair. Name's Tula."
He left.
Rick knew which broad Carl meant. But unfortunately, he wasn't in the mood for a piece, cheap or otherwise.
He was in the mood to drown his sorrows in plenty of alcohol. So he left the Jones mansion and embarked on an evening of bar-hopping.
From ten-thirty, when he left the Jones place, until two a.m., when the bars closed, he drank. Then he went to a private club he knew of and drank some more.
At four-thirty, he was approached by a whore. He told her to shove off, but the more he entertained the idea of having sex, the more appealing the thought became. It had been nearly eight hours since he'd climbed out of bed with Sue, and his virility had returned.
A prostitute, however, wasn't his idea of a good time. Forming in his potted mind was a far better idea-Sue Simmons. He would have bet his balls that her hubby hadn't yet returned from the poker game. Sue was probably sleeping the hours away, unaware that there were more stimulating things she could be doing.
Sleep was for the undersexed, he thought; screwing was for healthy people.
He left the club, having decided to drop in on Sue and pass along this little bit of wisdom.
Carl's car wasn't in the driveway as he pulled up in front of the Simmons house. That was to be expected, since the games often continued until eight or nine in the morning.
Rick rang the doorbell. He stood impatiently until Sue opened the door.
Her eyes only halfway open, she stared out at him in disbelief.
"What time is it?" she mumbled.
"Nookey time," he slurred, stepping through the doorway.
"Ricky, you're drunk!" she exclaimed, catching a whiff of his breath.
"Thash right. Drunk and feelin' horny!"
Sue wiped the sleep from her eyes. "You better sit down." Then she got a glance at the wall clock. "Do you realize it's almost five a.m.?"
"Got plenty time. Game won't end for 'nother three hoursh."
"I just don't understand you, Rick. Earlier, I practically had to rape you. Now you wake me up in the middle of the night and beg for it."
Rick didn't understand it himself. He guessed it had something to do with the alcohol.
"Oh, all right," Sue said at last. Eight hours ago she'd given up her virginity. Might as well make a night of it, she figured. "Follow me."
He followed her through the living room, down the hallway and into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, her knees well apart, allowing him to see underneath her black nightie. The nightie was made of
[the text in the original pocketbook broke off here in the middle of a sentence]
trated the room from a street lamp. Rick could see her thighs when she stood up. In the dim light that penetrated the room from a street lamp, Rick could see her dollar-size nipples pushing against the black cloth.
Her uncombed hair was tangled, and flattened on the side which she'd been on. She wore no make-up, except for a trace of lipstick which she'd neglected to remove before going to bed.
In spite of the lack of cosmetics, her natural beauty was terrific.
Rick drew in a deep breath.
Sue wasn't sleepy any more. The first real sex experience of her life had excited her beyond her wildest dreams. Just thinking about a second round made her hot.
Life's lubrication began to gather within her passion pit. She had always become wet just thinking about sex, but now she was more sopped than usual. She was glad she wasn't drunk like Rick. Sex was too pleasurable to be doused with liquor.
Rick sat on the edge of the bed beside her. "Lemme shee a li'l titty," he demanded.
She drew the nightie up over her head, pulling it off. Rick grabbed both of her breasts instantly, squeezing them playfully.
"That's good, Ricky. So good!" She wanted him to touch her snapper, but when it became apparent he was preoccupied with her boobs, she pressed her own fingers against her honey-pot. She gasped, half under the influence of her own caresses, half under the influence of his.
She pulled away from him and lay flat on her back. "Get your clothes off and lie down beside me," she ordered.
"Shure," Rick agreed, standing up and fumbling with his belt and shirt buttons. His movements were clumsy.
Sue became so impatient that she jumped from the mattress and assisted him in the unveiling. When she pulled his briefs away, she was pleased to find that he had a hard-on. It wasn't just a regular hard, either. It was a hard hard.
He was so much bigger than her husband, she wondered if she could ever really appreciate Carl's masculinity after being studded by Rick.
She gripped his dong and pulled him to the bed.
He moaned as she squeezed. "Christ!" he yelled.
"Come on, big boy," she urged. "Suzy feels empty."
Rick fixed that in a hurry. But it wasn't his cock that filled her emptiness, it was three of his fingers.
"Oh, Ricky! Do that!"
He did, simulating intercourse for the next five minutes. She rode hard on the fingers, tending to his rod at the same time. Her hand stroked and petted it until she could feel it throbbing in anticipation.
Then she could wait no longer.
"Nail me!" she screamed.
He removed his fingers and climbed on top of her. He brushed the tip of his rod against the juicy edges of her hole.
"Now, now! Stick it in me!"
He did.
"Oh, lover!" She made no effort to harness her fury. She drove her body up toward him as he descended. She scuttled and bustled beneath him. There was hardly any friction, due to her advanced state of excitement. And that was a miracle, considering the size of him.
They romped faster, her energetic churning sending thrilling sensations throughout their locked bodies. Sue couldn't suppress her screams. The wails vibrated from wall to wall and filled the room with one continuous echo.
She wasn't going to last long. But Rick was coming along more slowly, thanks to the liquor. That didn't mean he wasn't feeling anything. His pleasure was obvious. But he was going to take far longer than Sue to reach a climax.
She wasn't about to wait for him.
"Screw!" she hissed, feeling the peak building deep within her.
"Oh, yes!" she moaned, galloping toward the grand finale. Her legs went rigid and began to pound the mattress. She had no control over her arms as they beat against the rumpled sheets. "I'm corning, baby! Help me! Help me!"
Even in his drunken state, Rick knew what Sue expected of him. She wanted him to thrust deeply inside her and stay that way until the last of her spasms ebbed.
He ground his way into the very depths of her. Her muscles twitched tentatively, then boom-boomed her explosive completion. A dozen ecstatic shrieks escaped her lips as she came. Then she lay limp, a sheet of sweat covering her body.
When her gasping ceased, Rick started humping again. The lapse in his rhythm had had an adverse effect on him, and he was now as far away from his peak as ever. It promised to be a long, long ride.
Sue felt sensation building within her again. As he submerged himself, withdrew, than sank again, she caressed her boobs, starting even more fires within her body. This time her passion rose more slowly, but her need was just as urgent as before.
"God!" she squealed. "I never knew it could be like this!"
"What'cha think it'd be like?" He worked slowly with her.
"Oh, I don't know. I just didn't think it would be so, so-oh, God!" she hissed as he plunged particularly deep.
Resting on his elbows, he brought his hands to her breasts, where she was fondling herself. "May I shtroke your tits?" he slurred.
"What? Oh, yes! Please do!"
He squeezed her nipples cruelly. She cried out, half in pain, half in pleasure. Her titties blazed.
She began to force her own tempo on him, arching toward him, twisting, straining, pressing. The muscles of her thighs flexed out of control. Her cadence quickened. Now as supple as a whip, her body jerked and gyrated. His rod was in as far as it could go, and still she yearned to swallow more of him. She went off her rocker.
"Sin!" she shouted, the word originating in the depths of her subconscious. "Whash that?"
"Sin! Oh, sin with me, my darling!" She was gone then, boom-booming again, her pussy twitching and thumping against his rod. "There, there, there!"
She reached for, and attained, the maximum heights.
Still Rick was many minutes from the finish line. Again she begged him to stop all movement while she recuperated.
"Oh, baby! That's twice. Twice during the same lay!"
"And mush more to come," he promised, trying his damnedest to remain still. But he yearned to rub himself against the inner lining of her cunt.
He couldn't keep from working inside her. His movements, at first, were slow and tentative. But then he lurched and churned briskly, his rod sliding delightfully around in her honey-pot.
She made no effort to restrict his actions. Instead, she began to move along with him. She felt that amazing need building within her once again. Could she possibly climax three times in the same session?
Wow! She dared not even dream of such a glorious happening.
"Ricky, Ricky. You're so wonderful. Oh, baby! If you only knew what's happening inside me-what keeps happening inside me. God! Do you think it'll be this way with Carl?"
"Shure," said Rick, having very little control over his voice. "Shure, Shuzy. Carl's a good guy. He knowsh what he's doing." In the back of his mind, Rick was recalling that Carl had just loaned him fifteen hundred bucks.
It had taken much effort for Rick to speak, and now he was unable to form words any longer. All he could do was grunt, groan and pace himself toward his climax.
He felt it coming.
Way down at the base of his rod, he felt it approaching until....
"Aargh!" he yelled as the spasm hit him.
And he wasn't alone, in the culmination. Right with him was Suzy, hitting her third peak within the last half-hour.
"Baby, baby!" she hissed as her inner muscles convulsed. The two bounced against each other, plunging, dipping, diving, pulsating.
How, at that most intimate moment, could either of them possibly know that they were about to be discovered?
How, as they panted hot breath into each other's ears, could they hear the front door opening, followed by the echo of footsteps coming down the hall?
How?
CHAPTER FOUR
After netting a profit of seven grand, Carl had left the poker table.
He felt guilty about having left his new bride panting on the bed, and he intended to go home and make it up to her. She'd undoubtedly be sleeping, but he figured she'd be willing-and eager-to tumble once he woke her.
He'd married a pretty hot piece, he figured.
After unlocking the front door and walking through the entrance hallway, he continued across the living room and down the hall that led to the bedroom.
Before he got to that room, he paused, hearing noises.
The waves of sound filling the hall were sex-oriented. Carl, being no idiot, identified the sounds instantly. Mingled with the grunts of a man, he could distinguish the high-pitched squeals of his wife. He was stunned.
The passion noises subsided, leaving a momentary calm. A man's voice then: "I thought I heard somethin'!"
"What? Are you sure?"
"Yeah!"
"I'll go check."
Carl heard a rustling from within the bedroom, then his wife emerged, clad in her nightie top. "Carl, I-"
"You what?"
"I was just waiting for you to come home, darling. I couldn't sleep, so-"
"So you were sexing it up with some stud!" he finished the sentence for her as her face reddened noticeably beneath the hallway overhead light.
"No. Of course not!" She spoke loudly, hoping that Rick would get the message and hide. "What makes you think that?"
"Cool it, huh, babe?" he snarled, feeling ugly all of a sudden. "What kind of bullshit are you trying to feed me, anyway? I'm not deaf, you know!"
She had the impulse to tell him she'd been diddling, but she realized it was no use. "Damn, sweetheart," she sobbed. "Oh, damn it, damn it! I don't know what came over me!"
"So who the hell's in the bedroom?" he asked.
"Carl?" she whispered, stepping up to him and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. Her lips were unusually moist. "Maybe it would be better if you didn't know. I mean, there are certain little things that a man and woman ought to keep from each other...."
"Little things, shit! Who's in there?"
"Well ... it's ... ah...." she didn't finish the confession.
"Hell," he said, pushing her aside. "I'll find out for myself." he stormed around her and went into the bedroom.
"Rick?" he choked. But then his rage took full control of his voice. "You filthy, rotten bastard!"
He yanked the naked man from the bed. "You son of a bitch, I'm gonna knock your teeth down your throat!"
"Jusht wait!" Rick pleaded, as Carl pulled him across the room and slammed him against the far wall. "It washn't like you think!"
Those were the last words of protest that Rick uttered, because he fainted.
"Goddamn!" Carl swore and let the limp body fall to the carpet.
Sue had come to the doorway. Carl wheeled to face her.
"Sue! Why? We've only been married two days!"
"You'd never know it," she said.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know damn well what it's supposed to mean! Tonight you got me all hot and ready, and then you left for a poker game. What was I supposed to do?" she shrieked. "Play with myself?"
"Are you saying it's my fault?"
"Yes, damn you! And what the hell did you have to come sneaking home for?"
"Sneaking home!" he repeated incredulously. "It is my house, isn't it?"
"It's our house," she explained, on the verge of tears. "And I have the right to use it too!"
"For adultery?" he roared, kicking his foot against the wall in anger.
"Why didn't you give me what I wanted?" she asked. "Aren't I sexy enough?"
Carl was still pissed off, but he was beginning to cool down a little. It was true that he'd left her naked and overheated-not just once, but twice in as many nights. Maybe it was his fault that she'd cuckolded him.
"Why did you have to pick him? Your own brother-in-law!"
"Oh, for God's sake, Carl. You talk as if he was actually related to me or something. He's my sister's husband. It's not like doing it with a brother or a first cousin or something!"
"He should have known better," Carl snarled. "As soon as he comes to, I'm going to break his neck!"
"You'll do nothing of the kind!"
"Don't tell me what to do, you unfaithful bitch!"
"Wow! such profanity. Tell me, Carl, did you think you married a virgin?" She found her own question amusing, since she had been a virgin not too many hours ago.
"Of course not. But you could've let me lay you first, before you started playing around. It's like the bride pounding the mattress with the best man on the day of the wedding."
"God, Carl, don't be so melodramatic. We didn't have a best man," she reminded him, remembering their ceremony before a J.P. and two witnesses.
"Get a glass of water," he ordered. "I'm going to wake this bastard up!"
"Carl! You're not going to do anything rash?"
"Just get the water. If I was the typical American husband, I would've gone for my revolver and you'd both be dead by now."
She shrugged, knowing there was a certain amount of truth in his last words, and went to the bathroom. Moments later she returned, glass of water in hand. She came across the room and handed it to him.
Carl had reacted less severely than she'd feared. She hadn't expected him to blow his stack and make like the world had ended; he was too much of a liberal for that. But she had feared that his initial rage might have got out of control. She had pictured him beating Rick unconscious. And maybe he would have, had Rick not passed out on his own.
There was one bright side to the mess, she figured. Knowing her new husband liked experienced women, she'd been afraid he'd discover that she hadn't been around much. But now that he'd walked in on her just two days after their marriage, there seemed little chance of him figuring out the truth.
When a guy catches his wife balling with another man so soon after getting hitched, he usually feels he's hooked up with a pretty promiscuous gal. Carl liked promiscuous women, even if his masculine pride had been hurt in this instance.
He took the glass from her hand and began to sprinkle Rick's face. Then he dumped the remaining half-glassful on the unconscious man.
Rick moaned.
Carl slapped his brother-in-law's face. More moans. Rick's eyelids began to flicker, then his eyes opened hesitantly. "Wha-?"
"Get up, stud. We're going to have a little talk, just you and me."
Rick began to struggle to his feet, then fell back again. Carl grabbed him by both arms and yanked him to a standing position. Guided by Carl, Rick staggered to the bed and sat on the edge.
"Get your clothes on," Carl ordered, scooping garments from the floor and throwing them at Rick. The latter fumbled with the apparel, unable to slip into it.
"Sue!" Carl called to his wife, who stood across the room. "Get him dressed, will you? I don't want to have to look at him like that!"
Sue obediently came over to the bed and helped Rick with his clothes, like a mother dressing a little boy.
He left the room, then returned several minutes later after downing a shot of whiskey. Sue had finished dressing Rick when he returned.
"There," she said. "How does that look? Is his tie straight?"
"Don't get too cocksure of yourself, baby. I still haven't forgiven you."
True, he still hadn't forgiven her-but he was going to forgive her, if she was reading his eyes correctly. She smiled at him.
"Is he awake?" Carl asked, staring at the man on the bed and finding his eyes half closed.
"Sort of."
"Hey, fella You awake?" Carl asked.
"Yesh, shure I'm awake. Wha' happened?"
"I ought to kill you, you bastard! What the hell's the idea of hopping in bed with my wife?"
"Don' what with your wife? Ah, Carl, buddy. You muslit be mishtaken. I shwear I never-"
"Knock it off, buster. I saw you!"
"Shaw me?"
"Yeah, saw you screwing my wife!"
"Screwin"? Ah, look, Carl. I wouldn't screw Shuzy. She'sh jusht like a shister to me!"
Rick's denials only served to heighten Carl's fury. His right hand shot forward, and the open palm slapped Rick on the cheek, hard.
"All right! All right! Maybe jusht a little screw! I was shtoned, thash the only reashon I did it!" Rick lied.
"I want my check back!" Carl demanded.
"But, Carl," Rick protested, suddenly sounding a whole lot more sober. "I need it! I'll lose everything!"
"You should have thought of that before you started messing around with Sue. I hope you don't expect me to finance your losses while you're boffing with my wife! The check, buster. Hand over the check before I beat you worthless brains out!"
"What's this about a check?" Sue interrupted.
Carl explained.
When he'd finished, Sue said. "He's going to have a rough enough time when he sobers up. He's a sick man. He told me he can't stop gambling. Please, don't make it any worse for him. After all, I'm the one you should really be mad at." Her voice was filled with compassion.
"Jesus Christ," Carl swore. "First you screw him, then you ask me to be nice to him. Goddamn!" He wheeled around and stormed out of the room. As he left he shouted, "Get the bastard out of here, will you? Just get him out of my sight!"
Carl went into the den, to the bar, and took several quick shots.
"Come on, Ricky," Sue urged. "Let's get you out of here." She helped him to his feet. Rick wrapped one arm around her shoulders and staggered down the hall.
She opened the front door for him. A cool, early morning breeze hit them, serving to sober him up somewhat.
"Jeshus, Sue! I guesh I really screwed things up!"
"Don't take it so hard," she said. "I'll patch things up with Carl. Go home and get some sleep. It was my fault in the first place. I asked you over tonight and practically raped you."
He started to say something, but she pushed him through the doorway before the words left his mouth. He stumbled off of the porch and down the sidewalk.
"Good night," she called after him. He waved clumsily.
"God!" she swore under her breath. "I hope he doesn't have an accident!"
She went to the den and faced Carl.
He had downed four shots already, and they were having an effect on him.
"He's gone," she said.
"He's lucky to get outta here alive!"
"Why don't you come to bed?" Her eyes sparkled.
He appraised her, most of his anger vanishing under the influence of the alcohol. "Why don't you take a shower first?" he countered.
She left without a word. She took a warm shower; then, still in the bathroom, she applied cologne and a touch of make-up. When she was satisfied that her appearance was just right, she got into her nightie. Then she pinned her hair back into place. Strands were loose here and there, disarranged from her previous love bout. She took one final look at herself in the mirror, then left the room.
Carl was still in the den. He'd gulped two more shots while she showered.
He surveyed her figure, and a forgiving smile crossed his lips.
"Come here," he said.
"Unh-uh. You come to the bedroom." She stepped away from him and disappeared down the hall.
A minute later, he followed. The first gray light of morning was making its way through the draperies, leaving the bedroom semi-lighted. Sue lay on the still rumpled bed, her hands folded behind her head. She was staring at the ceiling, waiting and smiling.
A shiver of excitement went through her as she considered the prospect of making love with her husband for the first time.
He studied her exquisite body as he undressed. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over and kissed her. She squirmed, her tongue flicking forward to find his.
He helped her out of the nightie.
"You're sure you're not too tired?" he asked.
"Tired? Baby, I'm just getting warmed up." In a way her admission seemed vulgar, but in another way it testified to the woman in her.
"You're wicked," he told her.
"Not just wicked, darling. Most of all hot!"
He reached between her legs and rubbed his fingers through the fluff. She moaned as he continued stroking. "Oh, you lover!" she squealed.
She reached for him, found him firm. Now it was his turn to groan.
"You witch! If I didn't love you so much, I'd turn you over my knee." He pondered, then continued talking, "On second thought, I think I'll give you a couple good slaps on the rear anyway!"
"Carl! You wouldn't!"
He yanked her hands away from his rod and pulled her to a sitting position. Then he forced her across his lap.
"No, no!" she wailed as his hand began rising, then descended on her fanny. "No, Carl, please! Oh, no!"
More slaps; three, six, nine, a dozen.
She screamed, "Stop, Carl! Please, stop!" But he didn't stop.
The pain was intense. She felt as if her buttocks were on fire. And yet, a strange new sensation was taking over. She moaned, passionately. The spanking went on and on. Her pussy ground into his thigh. What had at first seemed ridiculous to her was now apparent-if he continued to spank her, she was going to come!
"Carl, Carl, I'm going to ... yes, I will. Carl! You'd better stop, or I will! I feel it coming! Oh, God, God! Hit harder!"
And then she was twisting all over his lap, her inner muscles pulsating. Finally, he stopped.
"Oh, my God! How could that happen?" she gasped.
"That's because you're such a hot little bitch," he said, elated that he had caused this unexpected reaction. He'd heard about women who culminated during a good spanking, but he'd never brought a woman to the peak that way before. He reasoned that a chick had to be pretty damn oversexed to be stimulated like that-and, to his way of thinking, there was nothing at all wrong with an oversexed wife, so long as she wasn't a nymphomaniac.
"I want you, now!" she said, and squirmed off of his lap. She flung herself on the bed.
"I ought to just go to sleep and leave you wanting," he said. "It would serve you right!"
"But you won't," she stated, "because you've got yourself to think about." She glanced at his firm rod. "Now, come on over and give Suzy a good time. Then we'll be officially married!"
He got on top of her. Their mouths met. He lurched forward, and with one able thrust found her pussy.
She realized he was smaller than Rick, but the latter was almost uncomfortably large. She attained new pleasures as her husband slid smoothly inside her. Moving with him, she began to build toward the stars.
For a girl who'd begun the night as a virgin, this had proven to be one of he wildest nights on record.
After Rick left the Simmons house, he drove half a block and had a minor accident. He sideswiped a parked car.
He stopped and got out to survey the damage. The car he'd hit was a '50 Ford. The vehicle was pretty well beat up in the first place, and the additional kink he'd put in the side would probably go unnoticed. Nevertheless, he had the presence of mind to scribble his name and phone number on a matchbox cover and slip the square of cardboard underneath the windshield wiper. His own car was scratched insignificantly.
He drove on, finding it difficult to keep on the right side of the road. He slowed down. At the speed he was now driving, it would take him fifteen minutes to reach home. He wanted to sleep, and he didn't think he could keep his eyes opened for another fifteen minutes.
He was about to pull over to the side of the road and doze off when he noticed a familiar turnoff. It was the lovers' lane that he'd frequented with Mag when they were still engaged. It seemed like a good place to sleep without being awakened, so he turned in.
His liquor-fogged mind started receiving images of the wild times he'd had here.
In high school, it had been Sandra. She was only fifteen at the time, and had put out like a thirty-year-old. Not like a prudish thirty-year-old, either. Man! She'd laid with the best of them. Rumor had it that she'd even tumbled with her history teacher. When she'd been with Rick, she was more than he could handle, Once he'd gone out with her and a buddy of his. Both of them had screwed her a total of six times, and still she'd been panting for more.
He remembered how, on that night, she'd begged him for one more round....
"I've gotta have it, Ricky! I'm all wet!" Of course she was all wet! What did she expect after half a dozen workouts?
"I can't Sandy. Try Felix."
"Come on," Felix," she pleaded. "Just put it in me. I'll do all the work."
"Sorry, kid. I think you killed both of us. Shit! I don't think I'll ever lay another broad!" Felix had expressed Rick's sentiments exactly.
"Damn you!" she shouted, buttoning her blouse and sitting straight in the front seat of Rick's jalopy. "Goddamn! You're both pansies!"
Those were the days, Rick thought, as he crept up the road leading to the very same lovers' lane. After Sandy, there had been Betty.
He remembered:
"You're the biggest stud I ever seen, so help me!" she swore, rocking against his cock in the back seat.
Betty wasn't a very smart chick. She'd dropped out of high school in the tenth grade. Rick on the other hand, was now a college sophomore. But in matters of sex, formal education didn't make much difference. Betty had been the most frolicsome broad he'd met recently.
The whole car would bounce on its shock absorbers as the two sweating bodies neared the peak of sensation.
"Oh, God, baby! Stick it in as deep as you can! That's it! Harder! Harder! Now make me go, go, go!"
A year after breaking up with Betty, he'd met Maggy and later married her. He had his own pad at the time, and they could also afford to go to a motel and tumble if they wished. In spite of this, Mag liked lovers' lane best. She found something adventurous about screwing where the younger kids screwed.
The images of the past still filling his drunken mind, Rick shut off his lights and pulled up on the road shoulder.
He was about to fall asleep when movements inside a car parked ten yards ahead caught his attention. The lovers were in the final throes of sensation. The girl had her arms wrapped tightly around the guy's shoulders. Only the top portions of their bodies were visible, but it was obvious what the bottom parts were doing.
Suddenly the girl began to beat her stud's back with clenched fists.
She rocked out her culmination, and Rick could hear a muffled scream fill the night air. Both bodies went wild and sank beneath the top edge of the seat.
His eyes closed again, then flickered open.
He spied something familiar ahead.
It looked like his wife's car. He shook off the thought. There must be a million cars like hers, he figured. Nevertheless, it was the same model and color. He started his engine, pulled off the shoulder, and drove around the car immediately in front, toward the object of his attention.
He could have identified the vehicle by checking to see if the license number matched. But in his clouded mind, he couldn't remember what his wife's number was.
There was obviously some activity going on inside the other car. From time to time, heads would bob up above the back seat. Once in a while an arm or a leg would fly into view.
He got a pretty good look at the woman's profile when her head stayed high for several seconds. She resembled his wife, but he couldn't be sure. In his anxiety, Rick accidentally stepped on the accelerator. The car lurched forward, his efforts to brake were too slow. Crash!
Going five miles an hour, his car smashed into the rear of the auto in front.
CHAPTER FIVE
Two and a half hours earlier, Mag Tooly had been pacing back and forth in her living room.
Her husband should have returned hours ago, she raged.
Mag was a streak lover. This was one of her hot streaks. Even during her cooler streaks, she wanted it regularly. But she'd get turned on for two or three solid weeks, sometimes; then she'd want her ashes hauled more often than usual.
Now, she recalled the loving that Rick bad given her earlier in the evening, and eagerly awaited his return. When he walked in the door, she planned to pull him into the bedroom and rape him, if necessary.
She'd hoped he would return before midnight, but it was now three a.m.
She flung herself onto the sofa, disgusted. She decided to take a cold shower, then decided not to. After all, her husband might come through the front door any time now. She certainly didn't want to cool down.
She got up, turned on the television set, and found that all the local channels were off the air. Just as she'd suspected. She lit a cigarette, took two short puffs, and butted it out angrily. Damn! Of all the nights for him to be so late! Usually it took him only a few hours to lose all his money, and tonight he'd gone with less cash than usual.
So what had happened? Maybe he'd been winning! She pushed the thought out of her mind; it was too incredulous even to consider. Rick had never won. Yet she kept her fingers crossed, because she was worried. She knew they were down to the last of their savings and if he continued to lose, what then? Would he sell their cars, their furniture? Would he steal to get the money to feed his compulsion?
She didn't know, but she was afraid.
Her thought shifted to less painful things. Lying on the sofa again, she hiked her skirt up to her hips and studied her legs. They were lovely legs, just waiting to be caressed. God, she wanted it badly! She would have been willing to do it with anyone at all, at the moment. But, unfortunately, there was no one around to help her out.
Hence, she waited. And waited.
A half-hour later, she got up and poured herself a strong drink. Soon she had another. At a quarter 'til four, she phoned her sister.
There were half a dozen buzzes before the phone was answered.
"Hello, who is it?"
"Mag. Did I wake you?"
"You haven't seen Rick, by any chance?"
"Unh-uh. Why would I see him?"
"Well, has Carl seen him, then?"
"Carl isn't home yet."
That made Mag feel a bit better; at least she wasn't the only one with a husband still absent. It probably wasn't so much a problem with Sue, though, since she couldn't possibly be as hot for sex as Mag was.
"Do you have a phone number for the Jones place?" asked Mag.
"Unh-uh, just an address."
"Give me that. I've got to get hold of that husband of mine before I go out of my mind! You wouldn't believe how hot I've been all night!"
Sue gave Mag the address, then added cautiously, "Maybe Rick will be too tired to do you much good, anyway."
"What makes you say a thing like that, little sister?"
Sue couldn't very well admit she'd seduced Rick earlier in the evening. She couldn't confess that she'd merely faked a car-won't-go routine in order to get her sister's husband to heat up her own bed.
So she said, "Well, when I called and you were in the middle of it, you guys sounded like you were going through a lot of strenuous exercise!"
"Yes," Mag agreed. "That was one of the most animated phone conversations either one of us has ever had!" She chuckled. "But Rick's a strong boy. He'll be able to service me again. If there's one thing I should know, it's how many my hubby's good for!"
She paused, then as an afterthought added, "You didn't sex it up with him when he dropped over, did you?"
"Maggy!" Sue shrieked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Of course not!"
"I suppose that's a silly question," Mag explained, "because when Rick's headed for a poker game, you practically have to rape him if you want him."
"No kidding!"
"While we're on the subject, if you're looking for variety, my Rick's a real stud-horse. Maybe we could work out a trade, straight across!"
"But, Mag-we're sisters!"
"Just a thought. Bye-bye dear, gotta go now." Mag hung up and tore Ted Jones' address from the pad she'd scribbled it on. She folded the piece of paper and dropped it into her purse.
Then she went to the bathroom to check her makeup.
She decided against the skirt she had on. It was wrinkled from her lounging around in it during all these hours of waiting for Rick. She chose a pantsuit of light blue with interwoven silver threads. It was a dazzling outfit, and fitted her mood exactly.
Who knew, maybe it would bring a pass from some other handsome and available stud. That was, on the condition that she couldn't locate her husband. Well, she thought, I'll just have to take things one at a time.
She went to her car and drove to the Jones mansion. She found it without difficulty. She knocked and waited for someone to open the massive double door.
Before long, a girl with silver hair came and stood in the doorway. "Hello," she said.
"Hi; Are you Mrs. Jones?"
"Mrs. Jones? Are you kidding? The old bastard isn't married. I'm Tula."
Mag was momentarily puzzled, then she remembered that Rick had said Jones wasn't married. "Just how old is the old bastard?" she asked.
"I don't know. Fifty, fifty-five, maybe."
"And you just stick around and keep him happy, huh?"
"You know it," said Tula, unaware that Mag was being sarcastic.
"I don't suppose you keep some of the other fellows happy, too, hmm? It must get pretty lonesome, just putting out for an old man. Maybe you know my husband. His name's Rick."
"Unh-uh. Sorry."
"Well, you wouldn't mind if I came in and looked for myself, would you?"
"No, I don't mind. Come on in."
Mag entered the house. She asked where the game room was, and Tula told her it was downstairs. She was about to go down there when a man came up the stairs.
"Oh," she said. "Excuse me, sir. Could you tell me if Rick Tooly is down there?"
"Oh," she said. "Excuse me, sir. Could you tell me if Rick Tooly is down there?"
"Rick? No, he left early. Before midnight, I think."
"He lost, of course?"
"Yes, as a matter-of-fact," I think he did. The man was about forty, had blond hair and a mustache, and wore a conservative gray business suit. He was large and handsome.
"Did he by any chance say where he was going?"
"No ma'am. I don't know him that well. At the card table, that's about the only time I ever see him. He seems like a nice enough guy. Are you his wife?"
"That's right."
The man took several steps away from her, then turned and said, "Well, Mrs. Tooly, I sure hope nothing happened to him. Since it's so late, I can see you must be worried about him. What time is it, anyway?" He glanced at his watch. "My God! It's after four! My old lady-pardon me, I mean my wife-is going to have a fit if I don't get home seen!"
Mag was furious. What the hell had Rick done? Lost all his loot and found himself some cheap prostitute to pass the night with? God! That would be just like him. He expected her to be so pure, and he acted like such a loyal husband. But she would have bet her ass that he was out working over some overzealous broad this very minute! .
Studying the good-looking man, she couldn't help but feel excited again. She was so hot, it was pathetic! Her anger made her need even greater. Sex drowns all sorrows, she figured. And from past experience, she knew that was true.
The man was stepping away from her. "Nice to have met you, ma'am," he said. He waved one hand and wheeled away.
He'd taken about three strides and was ten feet away when she called after him. "Oh, sir! I didn't catch your name." Until that very moment, she hadn't known how to go about making the approach. She decided to simply plunge in and play it by ear. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she thought.
"Jenkins. Fred Jenkins." He turned to study Mag. His eyes appraised her body from head to toe.
Mag stepped up to him and whispered. "I'll get right to the point." She had to get right to the point. It was past four in the morning-certainly no time for subtle advances. "I feel like going to a motel and making out."
"Wha-You mean with-?" The man stammered, utterly surprised by her boldness. He avoided her eyes, not knowing how to handle the situation.
"Yes, Fred, with you. I'm so hot for some body. Anybody! But you're not just anybody, you look like a pretty sharp fellow. What do you say, handsome? I know I'm being direct, but how about a lay?" She couldn't believe she was actually saying the words. It had taken real courage to get them out of her mouth.
"Really, I don't think I'd better. You see, my wife will be wait-"
"Half an hour is all it'll take," she persisted. "And I can guarantee you one of the wildest half-hours you've ever spent."
"Really, I shouldn't because-"
Stepping in to bridge the remaining two feet between them, she effectively silenced him with a kiss.
"Come on, Freddy," she begged. "There's a motel just three blocks from here."
"What the hell," he muttered and followed her toward the door.
Two of Ted Jones' girls stared at the couple as they were leaving. Tula ran up and opened the door for them.
She grinned at Mag, saying, "Good night, Mrs. Tooly." She had been bewildered by the married woman's aggressiveness, and envious because she'd never propositioned a man quite so easily.
As it turned cut, Mag's and Fred's cars were parked side by side in the expansive Jones driveway.
"Hop in mine," she invited. "I know where the place is."
"All right," he agreed. "I guess the manager would sure think something was screwy if we arrived in separate cars."
She drove to the motel, and Fred got out and registered. Two minutes later they were in the privacy of their room. It was a fairly cheap place; six bucks had purchased a double bed with a bedspread that was worn thin. There were also a dresser, a TV set and a heater in the room.
The TV and dresser had been put there for the legitimate motel guests-and the heater, they certainly didn't need.
She sprawled on the bed without waiting to be asked. He lay down beside her. They didn't bother to turn down the covers. Judging by the threadbare condition of the bedspread, a lot of customers hadn't bothered to get under it.
The curtains were thick; there were no nearby street lamps. They could barely make out each other's forms in the darkness.
"Let's make this a quick one," she pleaded. "I can't wait to slip out of my panties. Shall we undress ourselves or each other?"
"Which is faster?"
"Ourselves," she said, unfastening the side of her slacks. Then she began to unbutton the matching top.
Fred removed his tie, then his shirt, then worked with his belt.
"I'll help you with that," she offered, and reached for him. But instead of helping him remove his pants, she slipped her hand beneath the elastic of his briefs and felt for his rod. The limp organ filled her palm. She squeezed.
"I've got a green thumb," she said.
"Huh? What does that mean?"
"It means, lover-" She squeezed harder. "-that all I have to do is touch things, and they grow!"
"Like plants, you mean."
She rubbed her hand up and down near the tip of his cock. "Like plants, and like peters, too!" His rod was now half its potential size, and rising quickly. Ten seconds later, it was full and firm.
"You see what I mean?" said Mag.
"A lot of women have green thumbs," he pointed out as he raised his butt off the mattress and slipped his briefs and his trousers off.
"Yeah, but none so green as mine. I'll be right with you." She jumped off the bed and slid out of the rest of her clothing. Then, a minute later, she allowed her body to fall across the mattress, causing the bed to rock on its ancient springs.
"Wowee!" she gasped, looking at his rod. "At least you haven't lost interest!"
While Mag looked appreciatively at his body, he was getting an eyeful of her. He couldn't see well, due to the dimness, but he could make out enough to know that she was a good-looking piece.
Her blonde hair seemed to glisten, even in the darkness. Her boobs jutted out proudly, waiting to be handled. Her legs were rounded and luscious. Now she forced her shoulders back, causing her breasts to bulge still farther forward.
In the darkness, her eyes sparkled like the hands on a luminous clock.
"Come here, woman!" he said gruffly.
"No." She got up from the bed and stood away from him.
"No?"
"No. If you want me, you're going to have to catch me!"
"All right, little lady. If that's the way you want to play the game...." He got off the bed and came after her.
It was a short chase, but they both got excited during the running. The accidental brushes against each other served to drive them into a frenzy of need. He captured her in the corner between the bed and the television set. She made several half-hearted attempts to fight him off, then fell into his arms, exhausted.
"What was that all about?" he wanted to know.
"I don't know, but it was fun while it lasted. Now, let's get with it!"
She couldn't have been much blunter than that. Scooping her up in his arms, he deposited her on the bed. Then he joined her on the mattress, their lips meeting, the tips of her tits brushing against his chest. His cock touched her pussy lightly, sending electric excitement through both their bodies. The long, wet kiss continued.
She whispered things against his lips, things that couldn't be understood because their mouths were too tightly fused. Their tongues battled.
When the kiss ended, she put her ear against his chest and listened to his heart throb. She used delicate fingertips to caress the hair on his chest.
"Oh, darling, I'm dying for it. Take me, now, please!" A reckless grin crossed her face. "No. Better still, let me take you!" She was on top of him before he could protest.
With practiced precision, she settled herself on his rod and began riding him.
"Jesus!" he grunted. "Do you do it like this all the time?"
"Only when I can't wait. Sometimes I've just got to get on a man and set the pace myself. Doesn't your wife ever do it this way?"'
"Hell, no! This would be too much effort for my old woman. She doesn't get much of a kick out of balling, anyway."
"Too bad," Mag said. She made some twisting, side-to-side motions, adding variety to the up-and-down routine. She loved to be above a man, taking the initiative. It allowed her to make the moves that satisfied her most.
Fred reached up and toyed with her boobs. He found the nipples semi-solid and fondled them until they hardened even more. Her bangs bounced against her forehead as she moved violently. She stared at his hairy chest, her eyes glazed with sex madness. She rose so high on his cock that it almost slipped out, then dove down so hard that her pleasure was mixed with a throb of pain.
She eased off in her movements now, twisting only her pelvis. Her body became an inverted mixing bowl as she used his rod for a stirrer. Then she labored more forcefully, flexing her inner muscles, gripping his dong as tightly as possible.
"Oh, baby!" she articulated. "I'm getting close!"
Fred was getting close too. In fact, he had to use concentration and will power to keep from finishing before she did.
She accelerated the pace, and he began to lurch upward. They thrashed against each other, both feeling the consummation coming at the same time. She grabbed two handfuls of flesh at his sides and dug her nails in. It hurt him, but he disregarded the pain. He was too aware of the rising throb that was about to shake his body.
A tremor was starting inside Mag, too, on the verge of exploding deep within her.
She stopped all motion momentarily, teetering on the tip of his rod. Then, with an impassioned gasp, she lowered her full weight upon him.
He exploded. .
"Yes, yes! Oh, Freddy, give me more. Keep going!"
He spasmed half a dozen times, then she came.
She strained and pounded his chest with flying fists.
She sucked in an enormous breath, filling her lungs. Her belly thrust outward, and her face became covered with a thin layer of sweat.
She bit the tip of her tongue lightly, her mouth becoming twisted with passion. Then she sighed heavily-a sigh of relief.
It was over.
She adjusted herself full-length on top of him, and as she did, his prick slipped out.
"Damn!" she whispered. She kissed him once appreciatively, then rolled off him. "I told you it wouldn't take long."
"You know, when I first saw you at the mansion, I really wanted to make a pass at you, you're such a beautiful woman. But I just didn't have the guts to do it. Then, when you made the first move, I was hesitant about taking you up on it! I wonder how many people go through life never getting what they want, just because they're afraid to try anything out of the ordinary."
"Are you glad I made the advances?"
"Yes," he said. "Do you do that all the time?"
"Unh-uh. That was the first time I've ever been so direct. But I needed to get laid so bad, I just couldn't let you get away!"
"Just think," he mused. "There may be a million hot-pantsed women who never get anything, because they don't have as much nerve as you do."
"Actually, there are a lot of times when I don't get anything, either, just because I'm not as brave as I was half an hour ago. But if I was always that forward I'd probably spend my whole life in bed."
"If you were always that forward," he augmented, "you could be a prostitute and hustle bar to bar."
"Really? How much do you think I could get?"
"With your looks, at least fifty bucks a trick."
"You're just flattering me."
"Flattering, hell! It's the truth. Actually, you're worth more than that!"
"Thanks. Do you mind if I take a shower? It'll only take a minute. I want to look fresh when I get home, just in case my bastard husband is there."
"I don't mind. Maybe I'll join you."
They looked at each other, and she giggled.
She hadn't taken a shower with a man in years. "I don't know," she said. "These motel showers are kind of small. But I suppose we can try it." She took him by the hand and led him in to the bathroom.
"What if your husband is home?" Fred asked. "Won't he suspect something?"
"I'll just say I went out looking for him. After all, that's the truth."
He adjusted the temperature of the water and asked her if it was okay with her. She said yes, then they got under the spray together.
She soaped him, taking much longer than was really necessary to wash his rod.
"Better not start that again," he cautioned.
"You sure you don't want me to?"
"I do want you to, but if I don't get home soon, I'm going to get murdered. The old lady is probably pissed already. In fact, she's probably waiting for me with a broomstick!" .
"Well, maybe we can get together some other time, hmm?"
"I'm willing if you're willing."
They left the motel room after dressing quickly.
She drove out of the motel lot, then pulled over to the side of the road near a pay phone. "I'll be right back," she said. "I want to make a quick phone call and see if my darling hubby's home yet." Leaving the engine running, she went to a phone booth.
She dialed, let the phone ring six times, then hung up.
"No luck?" Fred asked when she got back in to the driver's scst
"No. The S.O.B.'s still not home!"
"Hey, turn the car around," he instructed suddenly.
"Why? I'm headed the right way, aren't I?"
"Let's not go back yet," he said. "I want to buy you a cup of coffee. I owe you at least that much for a wonderful half-hour."
"Anything you say." She made a U-turn. "But I thought you didn't have time. A while ago, you were in so much of a hurry you didn't even want to consider a second round."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't thinking very clearly. Hell, I don't care what the old bitch thinks! It's so late now that a little longer isn't going to make a damn bit of difference."
She drove through a suburban business district and found nothing open.
"Hey, I know where we can go!" she exclaimed. "Where?"
"We're only about a mile from the lovers' lane where I used to make out with my husband, not to mention a dozen other fellows. God, we used to have some wild times. Did you ever park when you were dating your wife?"
"When we were dating, hell! She didn't even want to put out after we were married. Jesus! A colder broad the Lord has never created!"
"I want to drive up, just for old times sake, and to see if the kids are still heating up the cars like they used to. You mind?"
"Mind? Hell, no. Sounds like fun. Let's go!"
A couple minutes later, she turned off the main street onto the old familiar road. She cut off her lights and crept slowly up the hill. After passing half a dozen vehicles, some with couples visibly and passionately entwined, she parked and shut off the ignition.
"Now, then," she said, "this makes a gal feel young again!"
"Young again? You don't look like you're even twenty-one yet!"
"You're about the biggest flatterer I've ever met. Hey, hon. Look at them!" She pointed to the car parked directly in front of them.
"I thought it wasn't nice to look at other couples," he said. "Isn't there supposed to be some unwritten code that says you're not supposed to peek?"
"Code? I never heard of it. Sometimes I used to come up here with a guy just to watch, when I was on the rag. We'd just drive around and see what we could. God, Freddy, you wouldn't believe some of the things you can see if you look hard enough!"
"Like what?"
"Once we saw a couple of Lesbians in the front seat and a couple of fags in the back. You think that wasn't weird? The only thing we could figure out was that they all started out on a double date to fool their parents. Then they came up here to what they really wanted, the ladies taking the front seat; the gents, the back."
"Sounds like a pretty sound theory," Fred said. Then he focused his attention on the car ahead.
There a young man and a girl were giving each other a hell of a good time. Only their heads were in view, but their state of passion was clear, judging by their facial expressions and the telltale manner in which they swayed back and forth, even while kissing.
"That looks like fun," Fred commented.
"Want to try it?"
Instead of answering, he pulled her against him and kissed her. Their tongues dueled.
"I used to be a pretty hot-pantsed kid," she told him. "Do you think you can handle me?"
"You're still a pretty hot-pantsed kid. And I know I can handle you!"
When he tried to kiss her again, she turned her head away. "Kiss my boobs first," she directed. "You haven't kissed them yet." She undid the buttons on her suit-top. The silver threads sparkled in the moonlight. She slipped out of the garment and unhooked her bra, letting it fall loosely, then discarding it altogether.
Fred bent toward her immediately and kissed her breasts. "Such lovely titties," he praised, sucking in one nipple, holding it between his teeth.
"Oh, do that some more. Golly, that feels good!" Suddenly she found herself using the same words and phrases she'd uttered years ago, when she was just learning about sex. She loved the atmosphere of a lovers' lane, and it served to make her especially hot.
"Freddy! Freddy! Feel under my panties!"
He did so immediately, finding his way under the tight top of her slacks with one probing hand. He tried to work his way under the elastic top of her panties, but he found the going too tight, so he used the other hand to unzip the side of her slacks.
"You're all wet!" he exclaimed, suddenly sounding as juvenile as she.
"It's from the shower."
"Lightening will strike you dead if you tell a lie."
"Oh, all right. You know why I'm wet, darling. It's because I'm so damn hot you wouldn't believe it!" She gasped, because two of his fingers were now a good three inches inside her.
Meanwhile, his lips continued to pay homage to her hardened nipples.
They leaned against each other, now well below the back of the seat so that if any snoopers were trying to look at them, they wouldn't get a very good view. But from what they'd seen going on in all the cars nearby, it was doubtful that anybody would be interested in watching them, anyway.
"Help me get my pants off," she begged.
He slipped the glittery slacks down her legs. Then he helped remove her panties.
"It feels so good to be naked. Are you going to join me?"
"Of course, I'm going to join you!" he laughed. "I mean, are you going to take your clothes off too?"
"Isn't there some law against that? What if some cop wanders by and shines his little light in on us?"
She thought for a minute. "Well, I guess I'll just have to tell him the truth-that my husband didn't come home, and I needed a man so bad that I propositioned you and brought you here. Then I'll break into tears, and he'll say, 'Sorry I bothered you, lady,' and go on his merry way."
"You're sure that's what would happen?"
"Maybe. Or maybe I'd give it to him and then threaten to report him. Do you think that's a better idea?"
Fred didn't answer, and Mag dropped the subject momentarily because she was too worked up to keep joking. She gyrated against his hand.
"You're gorgeous," he said.
"Why, thank you, sir. And now why don't you take some of your clothes off, so I can see how gorgeous you are?"
"All right, if you think that's a smart thing to do." He pulled his hand from her and began undressing.
"Why worry so much about the cops? There's nothing shameful about the human body, per se. That's what the courts have ruled; didn't you know?"
"Unh-uh. Thanks for the legal advice, sweetheart."
He was now down to his underclothes.
She yanked down his briefs while he removed his T-shirt.
"I still think this is crazy," he said as she reached for his rod. "I'll bet there isn't anyone else up here who's naked!"
"That makes us nonconformists, darling. My, my! You're already excited!" She stroked him deliberately.
"You didn't think I could look at you in the nude and stay cool, did you?"
"More flattery. If my husband complimented me like that all the time, I think I'd be a loyal wife forever and ever!"
"Well, I don't say things like that to my wife," he explained.
"Aren't you afraid she'll skip out on you if you don't give her the proper attention?"
"Skip out! Listen, you know what I'd do if I ever caught some guy screwing my old lady? I'd call a psychiatrist for the poor bastard!"
Mag giggled.
Her stroking had become more vigorous, causing him to caution her, "Hey! If you keep doing that," he said, "you're going to spoil your fun."
"I was about to stop," she said. "Feel my boobs once more."
He did. The pinnacles were still firm. He rested his head in her lap and began to kiss her thighs teasingly. Slowly, he inched up to the very tops, tickling her with his tongue, leaving a thin trail of tingles-like a spider weaving a thin thread of his web. His lips touched the outer edges of her fluff. All the while, his hands played vigorously with her firm boobs. The mounds bounced under his expert massaging.
Then his tongue now found the little sensor button it had been seeking.
"Oh, honey! Freddy, baby! I love that! Oh, do it, do it!" She bounded up toward his venturing tongue, her whole body jerking as she pressed tightly against him. The front seat shook. The car teetered on its shocks.
He gripped her boobs firmly and continued the kiss. She was out of her gourd, madly beating the seat with her fists as her passion rose. She thrilled to the moist feel of his lips. She was intoxicated by his touch. Now, instead of just tonguing, he began to suck. Her senses grew more acute. She could feel her blood pounding throughout her body. Shock waves began to build within her. She wanted to scream, but her throat muscles were momentarily frozen under the impact of her emotions.
Such crazy, dizzy, fierce need, she had never known before!
She was not conscious of Fred's body any longer. It was as if he wasn't even present, as if she was alone in this. He was thrilling her, but he was getting nothing out of it. Then she thought about him and wished vaguely that he was getting some satisfaction out of this too. But it was too late. She was getting so very near the climax. A couple more flicks of his tongue, and she'd be gone, gone, gone....
"Damn it, Fred, press! Press, hard as you can!" She just barely managed to get the words out of her passion-choked throat before her ecstasy was upon her arriving in sharp spasms that shook her from head to toe.
Unable to keep her legs still, she let them go stiff and kicked them high in the air. She knew anyone outside could see, but she couldn't help herself.
When she'd calmed down a bit, Fred exclaimed, "My God, woman! Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she managed to gasp. "Wowee! I haven't had it so good in ages. I thought I was out in orbit! Man! If you only knew what that does to a gal. And you did it so well. I'll bet you've had lots of experience."
"A little," he admitted.
"Just let me rest for a minute. We'll get to you as soon as I catch my breath, okay?"
He nodded. For three minutes they lay in the front seat-she on her back, he resting his head on her tummy.
Then, "It's time," she said. "I'll bet you've cooled off though." She lifted her head so that she could get a good look at his cock. She'd been wrong-he hadn't cooled off at all! She reached out and touched the swollen organ, massaging the head with great care.
Then she leaned over and whispered in his ear, "You want to put it in me, or do you want me to go down on you?"
The question somewhat perplexing to Fred, because he wasn't sure which he wanted most. "Okay. Which do you want?"
"I want it in me, baby!" Then she smiled and added, "Last one over the seat's a rotten egg." And with that, she vaulted into the back seat.
"Hey! Someone will see you!"
"So what? Who's going to care? They're all too busy with their own lovemaking. Come on over. I'll bet you can make it in two seconds flat!"
He didn't want to expose himself by climbing over the seat, but one long look at her flawless nudity gave him the courage. He took a deep breath and scrambled into the back seat.
"Now," Mag urged, "don't waste any time, baby, because I'm burning up! "Come on! Hurry!"
He didn't need to be pleaded with. All during the time that he'd been giving Mag that special treatment, he'd yearned for the feel of her. His excitement was now blazing, and he needed her to extinguish the flames.
She splayed her legs, not-lying flat on her back, but rather resting her back against one side of the car with her head touching the window. One leg was stretched across the seat, while the other rested on the floorboard. It was the most comfortable position she was able to secure in her hasty need.
He quickly found that he was unable to couple with her in that position. He tugged at her until she was seated semi-upright, balanced on her elbows. Coming at her from an angle, and with a minimum amount of jostling, he got his rod inside her.
"Oh, God! I'm going out of my mind, Freddy!" She began to move with him, whipping her body up to his.
"You're a wild, wild witch!" he gritted, proceeding to jar her with mighty thrusts of his muscular body. Despite their awkward position, the going was effortless, due to her moist, overheated state.
They were having a wild, mad time. She couldn't keep still. She lifted them, let them fly high. From time to time, their heads bobbed above the top of the back seat.
Suddenly, there was a crash!
"What the hell was that?" Fred asked, stupefied. "Never mind, darling. Just keep going! I'm going to make it soon!"
Fred glanced over the edge of the back seat, while continuing to ram her.
"Shit!" he exclaimed, never altering the pace of his thrusts. "Some jerk has hit us!" He looked at the car behind them, which appeared to have climbed up on their bumper.
"Oh, hell, baby don't worry about it. It's all right. Just keep giving it to me!"
Fred was too far gone not to comply.
Then they hit the peak of sensation simultaneously, and gradually descended to face the cold facts of reality.
Maggy was first to speak. "We better find out what happened," she said ruefully.
Fred reached over into the front seat and grabbed an armful of clothing. He suddenly realized that the first light of morning was upon them, and that he could no doubt be seen, but there was nothing he could do about it.
They sorted out their clothing and dressed as rapidly as possible.
Then Fred got out and went to the car behind him. Mag joined him seconds later.
"I don't see anyone," he said, glancing at the other car, then appraising the damage and finding it minor.
"You don't suppose they're so busy they didn't feel the impact?"
He went around to the right front door and peered through the window. "Hey there's someone in here!"
"Well, don't stare," she said. "It's not nice to watch-at least, that's what you said before."
"Watch, hell! There's just a guy, alone, and it looks like he's asleep." He opened the door. "Come see for yourself."
Mag came around and looked.
She gasped, then shook her head from side to side, her teeth gritted. "The lousy bastard! I thought the car looked familiar!"
"What are you talking about?"
"This, Freddy, is my husband!" Her date stood flabbergasted, so she asked, "Well, what's wrong with him, anyway."
Fred leaned into the car and slapped Rick's face several times. Rick moaned, but didn't come around.
"I think he's dead drunk!"
"The dirty S.O.B.!" she squealed. "Sneaking after me like this! Of all the low, mean tricks!"
"Yeah," Fred agreed. "He could have at least hired a detective." His try at sophisticated humor fell flat.
Mag stood there for a minute longer, the cool morning air biting her cheeks. "Come on," she said at last. "Let's get out of here."
"Are you just going to leave him?"
"Why not? It'll serve him right."
Fred shrugged and walked Mag to her car. She drove him back to Jones' mansion, neither speaking all the way. When-they got there, she kissed him goodbye.
He told her not to worry, that everything would be all right.
She said she wasn't worried, just madder than a hornet.
They exchanged addresses and phone numbers, and she promised to see him again soon. He said the sooner the better and she agreed.
CHAPTER SIX
The position of the sun told Rick that the time was eleven or eleven-thirty a.m. He squinted into the sunlight, trying to figure out why he'd been sleeping in his car.
Then it all came back to him-the poker loss, the loan from Carl, his second sex bout with Sue, being caught-almost in the act-by Carl. Rick remembered that his brother-in-law had threatened to take back the check, and he recalled leaving the Simmons' house and driving here to lovers' lane. He knew he'd crashed into the back of a car that looked very much like his wife's, then he'd passed out.
Yes, he remembered it all now.
The check, he thought. Did Carl take it back, as he'd threatened? Shakily, he felt in his coat pocket, and relaxed when he found the valuable piece of paper. Fifteen hundred bucks, just like he'd remembered. It was a small consolation, considering that he'd dropped over four grand, but at least it would save his credit rating.
Today was Saturday, and his bank would be open until noon. He decided to drop by and deposit the check.
He had a pounding headache, and he cursed himself for having imbibed as much as he had. Pressing the tips of his fingers against his temples, he tried to remember the last thing he'd seen before passing out. Had that been his wife's car, or not? More important, had that been his wife making out in the back seat?
He got out of the car and surveyed the damage. One headlight had been smashed, the grill and the bumper were dented. He must have caused some damage to the other car, so as soon as he could get a look at Mag's he would know for certain.
If it hadn't been his wife's car, why had the owner just driven off without awakening him or notifying the police or something. He pondered the question. It was possible, he reasoned, that the other driver simply hadn't wanted anyone to find out where he'd been. Maybe he was some dude out with his boss' wife, and couldn't risk making out an accident report. There were a lot of possibilities.
A couple of high school kids were strolling nearby, looking at him and talking softly. He could overhear part of what they said.
"I'll bet he came up here by himself," the boy said to the girl, who was holding his hand. "You know, one of them Peeping Toms!"
"Maybe he came with a woman, and she ran out on him," the girl speculated.
Rick got in his car, his face a little red, and started the ignition. Luckily, the vehicle was still in running order.
He drove to the bank and arrived ten minutes before closing time. A number of the patrons noted his rumpled suit, his loosened tie and his unshaven face, and gave him skeptical glances.
The teller entered the deposit in his book. She apparently noticed the large number of withdrawals he'd made recently, because she frowned. Then she smiled professionally and handed the book back to him.
He walked back out to his car and headed for home.
Mag's car was parked in the driveway. One of the taillights was broken and the bumper was smashed. That was sufficient evidence.
The front door was locked, so he used his key and went upstairs. Mag was sleeping soundly. His fists tightened as he studied her. He had a burning urge to beat her face to a pulp.
"Bitch!" he said aloud.
Then he wheeled away and went to the closet. He selected a pair of slacks, a plaid shirt and a sports jacket. He took fresh underclothes from the dresser. Although he made no effort to keep quiet, his wife didn't awaken.
He went to the bathroom, shaved and showered. Then he went back to the bedroom and found his wife still sleeping. He got into the clothes that he'd laid out for himself. Taking one last hostile look at his faithless wife, he left the room, fighting the urge to awaken her and tell her what a slut she was. He didn't stop to reason that he'd been as unfaithful as she-and with her own sister, yet.
He just wanted to get out of the house and think. He would confront her later, he decided when he was feeling more rational and had cooled down somewhat.
He didn't know where he was going. It didn't matter. Maybe he'd barhop or perhaps he'd take in a movie. Anything to keep his mind off of his domestic affairs until his anger subsided.
For half an hour, he drove around town. He came to a theater specializing in girlie movies, parked, and paid his buck admission. The film had little plot and even less eroticism. Within an hour, he became bored and left.
He walked to a nearby bar and spent the next several hours there. From time to time, he glanced up at the color TV and watched the ball game in progress. It was a lopsided 7-1 affair, and it didn't hold his interest.
At another tavern, he ordered several more drinks and consumed them rapidly. By six o'clock, he felt himself approaching the drunken state he had reached the previous night. The alcohol was good medicine, pushing reality farther and farther into the back of his mind.
At eight o'clock, he was seated alone in a booth, watching the lounge fill up, mostly with couples. He felt vaguely out of place, and he began to scan the room for unattached women.
Finally he spotted one.
She was about forty, and she wasn't outstandingly pretty, but she was attractive enough to serve as a companion for him. She was sitting on a barstool, with a man on either side of her. It was obvious that neither of the men was her escort, since the one on her left was talking to a broad to his left, and the one on the right was whispering to the chick on his right.
Rick left his seat and walked up to the woman.
He tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me. You're alone, aren't you?"
"What's it to you?" Her voice was unusually gruff for a woman, but her face feminine and her figure was all right. Her boobs seemed to be full enough, as they bulged against her white, rounded calves and musuclar thighs.
She was a better-than-average-looking woman for her age.
"I just thought you might like some company," he said. "I've got that booth over there all to myself." He gestured to the table where his drink was. "What do you say?"
She studied Rick's big, muscular body, then shrugged. "Might as well."
When they sat facing each other, he asked, "What are you drinking?"
"Beer's fine."
He ordered, and the beer was served promptly. "I'm just passing a Saturday evening," he said lightly. "What brings you here?"
"Same thing, I suppose. My husband's out of town. We usually come here together, but I was so bored that I just had to get out of the house."
Had he caught a subtle implication in her voice? Was she hinting at something? She'd seemed to stress the word bored? He wondered.
"Shall we exchange names? I'm Rick."
"Lorna."
She took a sip from her beer, then she began to chatter about a number of miscellaneous things-she had just moved to the city, she liked the climate, she and her husband had bought a house two months ago. She described the house. She said she had two kids, ages fourteen and sixteen, and she wanted more before she grew too old.
Finally she brought Ricky into the conversation by asking, "What do you do?"
"Nothing spectacular. I just work a forty-hour week like everyone else."
"My husband's a salesman," she said. "He's sometimes away for a week at a time."
"That must be pretty rough on you. I mean, most women want their husbands home every night. What do you do when he's out of town?" It was time to get to the point, Rick figured.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, pardon me for asking, but don't you have certain urges when he's gone? You know, life must go on, and all that?"
"Certain urges?" She was playing dumb.
He leaned over and whispered very audibly. "Sex! Don't you still want to have sex, even when your hubby's out of town?"
"No! Absolutely not!" She took a large gulp of beer and swallowed hard. She started to get up saying, "Thank you for the drink."
He caught her arm and tugged her gently back down into her seat.
"You mean to tell me you've never cheated on your husband? Not even a teeny bit?"
She shook her head, a crimson flush covering her' cheeks. "I certainly have not! And furthermore, I wouldn't tell you if I had!"
"I'm very discreet, Lorna. Let me lay it on the line for you. If you're looking for a little extracurricular loving, I'm your guy, baby! You come with me, and no one will ever know. I don't talk about my conquests to anyone, not even my best friends!" Somehow, he felt he hadn't phrased it right.
"Conquests!" she half-shouted. "Well, I never!"
She got to her feet, and this time Rick knew he'd blown it for good.
"Wait a minute," he called. "That was just the wrong choice of words. Listen...." But she was already out the door. He threw a tip on the table and went after her.
She was a quarter of a block away when he spied her getting into her car. She was gone before he could reach her.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered, and headed for his own car.
While driving to the next bar, he cautioned himself against making any more gauche advances like that. It wasn't his style. He'd always acted very suave and gentlemanly with the ladies. He never would have been so brash if his wife hadn't skipped out on him, but that had nettled him, made him look down on all women. If she was going to screw around, he figured any woman would-but he knew he couldn't score if he let his scornfulness show.
He found a bar that looked inviting, and parked.
He wasn't feeling anywhere near as dizzy-drunk as he had the night before, but half a dozen more drinks would put him there. He went through the swinging doors and saw that the tables were all taken, and the dance floor was jammed with gyrating couples.
He spotted two unescorted women, a blonde and a brunette, at a corner table. He felt it was perfectly natural for him to approach them and ask to be seated, since all the other tables were spoken for.
"May I sit down?" he asked, addressing the blonde.
"Help yourself," she said, smiling pleasantly.
He took a chair between them as the blonde mouthed two silent words to her companion. Rick intercepted the message: "He's mine!"
Both wore an overabundance of make-up, but it was skillfully applied, and both were extremely attractive. The brunette was the older, Rick figured. He guessed she was about thirty, while the blonde appeared to be twenty-five, at the most.
"Can I order you girls a drink?"
"Sure, lover," said the blonde. "Meet Delia," she nodded toward the brunette. "And I'm Kate."
"I'm Rick. What would you like."
"Vodka and Seven," both replied almost simultaneously.
Kate grabbed for one of his hands and pulled it into her lap. Her fingertips rubbed his palm, making slow, circular motions.
Rick had suspected from the beginning that he'd sat down with a pair of prostitues. He had nothing against whores, except that professional sex never had turned him on very much. What he really wanted was something that would be more of a challenge-some woman who would really appreciate a good romp in bed.
When the drinks came, he sipped his and waited for Kate to make a play. But for ten minutes, she did nothing any more aggressive than hand-holding.
"You're new here." she noted. "I haven't seen you in this place before."
"Yeah, well, I was just driving by and decided to wander in."
Delia hadn't said a word. She finished her drink rapidly, then stood up and excused herself, saying she'd be right back. Rick knew better. If these were true professionals, as he suspected from their gaudy good looks and their eagerness to meet him, then Delia wouldn't return. He was evidently destined to be Kate's customer.
"What do you do for fun?" Kate asked. "Some of everything," was his noncommital response.
She leaned over and whispered, "How does a motel sound?"
He shrugged. "I'm willing."
"I usually get forty, but for you it's only twenty."
He acted as if he didn't know she was a whore. "Twenty dollars?" he asked. When she gave him a funny look and nodded, he added innocently "For what?"
"For ... the motel," she stammered.
"I'll pay for the room," he said.
"Hey, honey. You're not serious. Don't you really understand what I'm talking about? I go for twenty bucks a throw."
"You mean you're a-?" He covered his mouth, acting shocked.
But she was onto his game by now. "Come on, sweetheart. Cut out that crap. Is it a deal, or not?"
"Well, I don't know. You looked like such a respectable lady. And to learn that you're a woman of ill repute ... well, it comes as quite a shock!"
"Knock it off, buster. Yes or no?" His humor had rubbed her wrong.
"I am on a pretty strict budget," he said. "Tell you what I'll do. I'll pay half, if you want to split the cost with me."
"What?" she shrieked, rising to her feet. "You want me to take you on for ten lousy bucks? Stick it up your ass, buddy!"
He watched her strut away, wagging her butt as she went. Her last words had been said loudly, and half a dozen people had turned to stare at him. He merely shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
Hours passed, and the last light of sobriety was fading fast for Rick. The crowd was thinning out. He knew that if he wanted to pick up a chick, other than a whore, he'd have to make a move soon.
He got up from his table and staggered to the John. His head was swirling. On the way back to his seat, he scanned the room for available chicks. He couldn't find any.
"No nookey tonight," he muttered aloud, shaking his head sadly.
A man and woman came in, arm in arm. They were fortyish and well-dressed. She was fairly good-looking. When they passed by his table, she happened to look in his direction.
On an impulse, he gave her the finger.
She blushed and bit her lip angrily. She seemed to be saying something indignant with her eyes. He kept showing her the finger.
And, then-disaster!
Her escort turned and caught a glimpse of what Rick was doing.
"Hey, you!" the man shouted. "What do you think you're doing?" He stepped over and grabbed Rick by the collar.
"I washn't doing nothin'," Rick replied. "Leggo my shirt!"
"I'll let go when you apologize to the lady. And if you don't apologize, I'm going to punch you in the nose!"
"Oh, yeah?" Rick snarled. "You think you're man enough to shlap me around? I'll show you, bushter!" With that, Rick swung-and missed by a foot.
The other man chopped hm with two quick jabs, one to the cheek and one on the chin. They weren't forceful blows, but stinging ones, deliberately restrained.
"If you were halfway sober, I'd give you what you deserve," the man growled. Then he took his woman by the arm and they went up to the bar.
As they left, the woman turned around again. Once more, Rick gave her the finger. She merely shook her head in disgust.
At a quarter past twelve, a couple came in and seated themselves at the table next to Rick. They were young-the man looked barely twenty-one, and the girl looked even younger.
The guy went up to the bar, bought two bottles of beer and brought them, along with two glasses, back to the table. A waitress would have asked for the girl's ID, but by going directly to the bar her escort and avoided that embarrassment.
They sipped. Rick listened to their idle chatter. The guy kept hinting. He'd say dumb things like, "Did you see this month's issue of Playboy?" And, "I went out with a girl the other night and we did you-know-what."
The fellow needed a lesson in the art of subtle approaches, Rick thought.
Finally the guy left for the John.
Rick leaned back in his chair and whispered to the girl at the next table. "Psst! Hey, honey!"
She looked at him and smiled. "Yes."
"What do you think of your eshcort?"
She looked Rick in the eye and said, "He's strictly dullsville!"
He knew he had to act fast, since the girl's date might return any moment. He had to get across what he had in mind without wasting words. "What shay, let's clear out of here," he said. "I know jusht the perfect way to liven up a dull night!"
She continued to stare into his eyes. She, too, realized that there wasn't the time to be subtle about accepting or rejecting his proposition. She picked up her purse. "Okay, let's go before he gets back."
They went outside. Rick was opening the car door for her when her date yelled from up the sidewalk, where he'd just come out of the lounge.
"Gloria! What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm leaving," she said simply.
Rick closed her door and was going around to the driver's side when the younger man began to run toward him, shouting, "Wait! What's going on?"
The two men faced each other from a distance of five feet.
"There'sh nothin' goin' on," Rick told him. "The young lady and I were jusht leaving."
"You can't. She's my date!"
Rick reached into his back pocket and extracted his wallet. He took out a fin and handed it to the fellow.
"Go buy yourshelf shome drinksh on me," Rick instructed.
"But, Gloria! You can't just drive off like this," the guy protested. "You can't just leave." But she could, and did.
"What'll it be?" Rick asked when they were several blocks away. "You wanna jusht park, or check in at a motel?"
"Whichever you like," she said.
He decided on the motel. Within ten minutes, they were inside their room, in each other's arms.
He turned on a bedside lamp and got a really good look at her for the first time. She was wearing a two-piece, powder-blue knit suit that blended well with her dark blonde hair. She had big brown eyes and an expression that was almost pouting. At about fivefour, she was fully ten inches shorter than he was.
She stood on tiptoe while they kissed, her legs spread wide apart. Her patterned hose rubbed against his trousers.
"You sure know how to turn a girl on!" she exclaimed.
"I didn't do anything yet," he informed her. "Juslit wait till I get started on you. Then you'll know what it's like to be with a real man!" he boasted.
"I'm sure you know just what to do." She pulled back away from his lips, studying his face with eager, passionate eyes.
He gazed back at her, noting her babyish features.
"Shay, jusht how old are you, anyway?"
She didn't answer immediately. Then she said, "Twenty-one."
"Thash a damn lie. How old are you, really?"
"Old enough to want a man."
"Yesh, I think thash a very good ansher!" He grabbed for her and kissed her again hungrily. She melted into his embrace, wrapping he arms securely around his shoulders. She ground her belly against him, making wanton movements with her lower body.
The kiss went on for two minutes. Neither closed their eyes. Instead, they gazed passionately at each other, speaking the language of the sex-crazed. It was a language without words, conveyed eye to eye. Gloria was telling him how hot she was, and Rick was saying how badly he wanted her. She traced the edges of his mouth with a moist tongue. Her heart was throbbing out a chaotic rhythm of unashamed desire. His pulse was racing too.
As if a secret signal had been given, they both stepped toward the bed simultaneously. She pulled him down atop her, and they kissed some more. He rolled off her, then turned her over so he could unzip the zipper at the back of her neck. She slipped out of the top, leaving only a flimsy bra between his questing hands and her boobs. Because the top of the dress had hung loosely, he hadn't really been able to make out the size of her breasts before. Now, as he removed the brassiere, he found that they were smaller than he'd hoped. But that didn't make a lot of difference to him. She was a gorgeous chick, anyway. Give her a few years, he thought, and she might fill out to a size forty.
He fondled those youthful orbs, causing the nipples to stiffen. She moaned as he bent over and sucked a bud into his mouth. A few seconds later, he deserted that tit and found its companion.
"Man! That feels so great. Tell me-are you married?"
"Yeah, I'm married," Rick grunted while still tongueing her tippie. "Why?" He wished she hadn't asked that question. Not that he minded telling her he was a married man, but the question made him think of Maggy. He was still furious with his wife, even in his intoxicated state.
"No reason. It's just that I've never gone to bed with a married man."
"Do you wanna cop out?" he asked.
"Heck, no! I'm too hot to quit, even if I wanted to."
"Thash good newsh. Why don't we take your shkirt off and get to the main event?"
"That suits me," she agreed. She undid her skirt zipper, and he pulled the garment down over her legs.
He admired her shapely thighs, her well-rounded calves. Her knees, slightly bowed at the moment, were perfectly curved, not at all bony. With the exception of her small boobs, she was the most perfectly formed creature Rick had laid his eyes on in recent years. His wife was a beautiful woman, of course, but nothing could compensate for youth.
He studied her skin. It was flawless. When she reached out to flick off the lamp, he grabbed the offending hand and slapped it playfully.
"Don't you wanna shee?"
"You bet I do! I'm glad you stopped me. Most fellows don't like to make out in the light."
"They musht be crazy not to wanna see you in the act."
"Think you. That's a nice compliment."
He slipped one hand between her legs, feeling the silky smoothness of her panties. His hand slid easily, half because of the sleek material, and half because that material was so wet.
He eased his hand beneath the panty-leg elastic and playfully plucked at her pussy.
"Don't play around any more, honey," she pleaded. "I'm too hot. Get on top and love me. Hurry!"
He slid her panties off, then hastily discarded his own clothing. As soon as he was naked, he got atop her and shoved his rod in up to the hilt. From then on, it was a bouncing, bustling ride.
Her eyes stayed glued to his all the while, but she wasn't looking at him, exactly. A mysterious mist covered her eyeballs, and she seemed to be looking beyond him, out into eternity.
He was taking her at the rate of a thrust a second, as she expelled hot little gusts of breath into his face. His own breathing was feverish and uncontrolled. Together they strained, struggled and surged toward oblivion, For a moment Rick would set a slow, deliberate pace; then he would gallop, and she would spring up to meet him, making the bedsprings twang.
She couldn't keep her arms still. One instant they were woven tightly around his shoulders, next they were stretched above her head, then they were at her sides, grabbing handfuls of sheets and blankets. Her heels slid back and forth along the top of the sheet, then from time to time would lift and drum the mattress.
Their thrashing was too vigorous, their passion too intense to last.
They wriggled and tossed, pitched and rolled, wobbled and teetered.
Her breath now came as a series of whistling hisses, forced out between clenched teeth, and Rick knew she was starting to get hers already.
Slapping her heels deep into the mattress, she screamed shrilly. The shriek echoed and re-echoed. She screamed again, as throb upon throb of ecstasy pounded through her veins.
Then he spurted his lust deep within her, and her pussy kept twitching long after his throbs of passion had ended.
Finally they parted.
"Oh, that was so good!" she exclaimed. "Thank you."
"And thank you," he returned. "You're about the sexiest thing I ever laid with. You're shure gonna make shome man a good wife!"
"Thank you again. And now I'm going to take a shower." She got up from the bed and headed toward the bathroom.
"Shower all you like," he said. "I'm jusht gonna lay here and resht!"
He did just that. Five minutes later she emerged fresh from the shower, came over and kissed him lightly on the lips.
"You better get dressed," she said. "I really do have to get home before my folks have a fit!"
"You live with your parents?
She nodded.
That was bad news, he thought. What if she was only sixteen or seventeen? He could be in big trouble. It was too late to worry about that now, though, since the deed was already done.
She had washed away most of her make-up, and now she looked even younger than before.
They dressed side by side in silence. He didn't question her about her age. If anything ever came of it, he could always plead ignorance-not that it would do any good. But, after all, she had claimed to be twenty-one.
He drove her home, and she asked that he let her out on the corner of her block. "Just in case," she said, and he knew exactly what she meant.
"Thanks for a fun evening," he said.
"You, too, sir," she replied. Then she got out and walked toward her house.
The word sir stood out in his mind, and he remembered that he hadn't even told her his name!
He woke Mag up when he got home.
He was still angry with her, but some of his fury had faded. She rolled over in the bed and blinked her eyes several times.
"Hey, turn the damn light off!" she wailed.
"Get up!" he ordered, ignoring her command.
She stared at him blankly for a moment, then gritted her teeth angrily. "Where the hell have you been?" she demanded.
"Where have I been!" he repeated incredulously. "The queshtion ish-where have you been? I shaw you up there at lovers' lane last night, making out in the back seat like some juvenile!"
"All right, so you caught me. You knew I wasn't pure when you married me. Why should I have to go without sex when I need it now?"
"You promised to be loyal!"
"God, Rick! You caught me, and I'm sorry about it. So what do you want me to do, chop my head off? Maybe you want me to get on my knees and pray for forgiveness! You smell drunk. Get away from me!" She was in no mood to apologize. The way she figured it, since he'd been away for the better part of two days, he owed her an explanation.
He backed away and began undressing.
"You know, there'sh a word for women like you!"
"There's all kinds of words for women like me," she pointed out. "Which one were you thinking of?"
"Slut!"
"Oh, that word. Very well, darling. I'm a slut." She rolled over. "Now will you let me sleep?"
"Shit! Sleep all you want, bitch!"
"Now wait just a minute, mister. Before you call me a bitch and all that, tell me what kind of bastard would stay away from home for two days and not tell his wife!"
"It hasn't been two days," he said. He was right. It had been less than thirty hours. "Beshides, I came home this morning and changed my clothes!"
"So I noticed," she said dryly, noting that he no longer wore a suit. "For your information, I never would have been in lovers' lane if I hadn't gone out looking for you. Why didn't you come home at a decent hour and give me the balling I needed?"
"Thash no excuse for infidelity," he remarked.
"Screw infidelity, my dear husband! Screw it all to hell! If you were a good enough stud to keep me happy, I wouldn't go out looking for other guys."
"Good enough stud? You keep shaying I'm the biggest and best you ever shaw!"
"Biggest, maybe. But you don't stay home enough to be the best," she jibed. "A good stud has to service his woman regularly, not once a week!" She sat up in the bed. "By the way, why the hell were you sneaking after me last night?"
"I washn't sneaking after you. I jsht shtumbled across you. Jesus! Was I shuprised! Never thought I had a slut for a wife!"
She mouthed several words of rebuttal, but did not speak them audibly.
He went into the hall, took a blanket from the linen closet, and went downstairs to sleep on the sofa.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Six days later, Rick and Mag had come to an understanding, of sorts.
They again slept in the same bed, and they had made love twice during the week. All wasn't entirely rosy again, however. Rick had lest respect for his wife because of her infidelity, and Mag had lost respect for her husband because of his compulsive gambling.
Even though they'd discussed their feelings and decided it was now permissible to have extracurricular affairs, theirs wasn't an ideal marriage by a long shot.
By week's end, Rick felt the gambling fever returning. He realized that the loan that Carl had given him was intended to be used for house payments and to take care of the Toolys' numerous other financial obligations. But he'd dropped over four grand, and he figured he had a right to win it back.
With this rationalization firmly implanted in his mind, he went to the bank and withdrew the fifteen hundred dollars, leaving less than a hundred in his account.
He had two possible plans of attack. First, if Carl was at the Jones place, he'd fly to Las Vegas. Second, if Carl wasn't at the Jones place, he'd go there and play poker. He didn't want his brother-in-law to know he was using the borrowed money to gamble. Carl would get the new sooner or later, anyway, but by that time Rick figured to be a big winner, so it really wouldn't matter what Carl thought then.
Using a phone booth, he called the Simmons house.
She answered.
Rick asked, "Is Carl at home?"
"No, Rick, He flew up to a game in Montana. He said he'd be home a little after midnight."
Rick checked his watch. It was only seven o'clock. If he hurried, he could get in five hours of poker before Carl got back.
"Is there any message?" Sue asked.
"No, I'll get in touch with him later. Thanks anyway, though."
"By the way, lover. When are you going to stop over and see me again?"
"Soon," he promised. But he wasn't interested, at the time, in arranging another tryst with his brother-in-law's wife. There was only one thing that occupied his mind now.
Gambling!
He said good-bye to Sue and hung up. Ten minutes later, he parked his car in front of the Jones mansion. He went inside, nodded hello to several of the sexy chicks who greeted him, and went downstairs. The game was in progress, but there was one vacant chair. He sat down and bought into the game for the full fifteen hundred.
On the first hand, he was dealt three queens. He drew two cards and came up with another queen. He could hardly believe his eyes. His hands were shaking so badly that he had to lay his cards face-down on the table.
The betting was heavy. There were three of them contending for the pot-himself, one of the businessmen, and Jones. When it was his turn to bet, Rick shoved the remainder of his fifteen hundred into the pot.
Both of the other men called.
Proudly, he laid his hand on the table. It was an easy winner. The businessman had three jacks. Jones had a low straight.
Jones whistled softly. "Four whores!" he exclaimed, viewing the handful of queens. "Jesus, Rick! You just sit down, and hit a hand like that!"
Rick was dizzy with excitement. In three minutes, he'd made more than three thousand dollars. One more hand like that, and he'd be ahead of the game, after ten weeks of steady losses!
The businessman got up from the table. "Mind if I use one of your broads to calm my nerves, Ted?"
Jones nodded his consent. "Give her a good screw, will you? You deserve it, after dropping a hand like that. I've got a good mind to go up and get a piece, myself!"
The others at the table laughed respectfully, not that it was particularly funny. But, after all, they were using Jones' house, his liquor and his chicks, so any time he told a joke or wised off, the men laughed heartily.
"Excuse me," Rick said, rising from the table. "I'll be right back." He was so shook that he had to leave the table, go upstairs, and sit in one of Jones' expensive lounge chairs for five minutes to quiet his nerves.
"Would you like anything?" one of Jones' girls asked, when he was seated in a cushiony chair.
"Ginger ale," he said.
"Just plain?" she wanted to know. He nodded.
When she brought his glass, he sipped the bubbly beverage and smiled to himself. His losing streak had come to an end, he though jubilantly. The girl sat on the edge of his chair to keep him company.
The businessman strolled by, hand in hand with a buxom blonde.
The man looked toward Rick as he went by. "Good band," was all he said to Rick. Then he shook his head and said to himself, "Four whores! I'll be goddamned!" The fellow was still raving to himself about Rick's lucky first hand as he and the blonde disappeared down the hall.
"I'll bet they're going to have a good time," said the girl sitting on the edge of Rick's chair.
He grunted an affirmation.
"Would you like to do the same thing?" she proposed.
"No. Not now. I've got to get back downstairs." He wanted to gamble while his luck was still hot. "Kiss me once, for good luck," he said.
She did. It was a wet, warm kiss, placed squarely on his lips. When she began to reach into his lap, he pushed her away gently, finished his ginger ale and rose from the chair.
He played fifteen hands without making a bet, losing only the antes. Finally he was dealt four hearts, made a small bet and drew one card. It was the fifth heart, an ace.
He eyed the flush with satisfaction. His lucky streak was holding out.
The man across the table bet five hundred. Rick called and raised a thousand. The other raised twenty-five hundred more.
Rick sat, momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected to be raised back. His eyes focused on the mural of a nude woman on the opposite wall. He looked directly at her boobs, but he wasn't seeing those breasts. He saw only dollar signs.
He decided to call. Sure, there was a remote chance that the other fellow held the higher hand. But if you didn't have guts, he wondered, how could you ever expect to win? He shoved his chips into the center of the table.
"Tough luck," Jones whispered without emotion.
Rick had only five hundred dollars left. He bet it, and lost, on the very next hand. When he left the table, he was dazed and disbelieving.
There wasn't much chance of getting another loan from Carl, but at least he had to try. It was a little after eight. Sue had said that Carl would return from Montana at about midnight.
He could think of no better way to pass four hours than warming the bed with some luscious female. He knew just where to go.
Sue was dressed in a housecoat. Her hair was in rollers and she wore no make-up. Nonetheless, she looked naturally attractive.
"Goodness," she said, holding the door open for Rick, "I wasn't expecting anyone. Don't you know you're supposed to phone and warn a girl before you come over?"
"You look fine," he said as he entered the house.
"Well, you did promise to come see me sometime soon, but you didn't say it would be in an hour!"
"I want to see Carl. I figured I'd come over and wait for him."
"He won't be home for at least four hours," she pointed out. "What did you figure on doing in the meantime?"
"This," he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her.
Without hesitation, he unbuttoned the front of her housecoat. He was pleased to find that she wore nothing underneath-not even panties. He kissed her neck, and when she squirmed, the housecoat fell to the floor.
"Hey, Ricky, wait! Don't you want me to pretty up for you?"
"Nope. You're gorgeous just the way you are!"
He reached for her boobs, they jounced under the to-and-fro motion of his fondling. She got on tiptoe and kissed him again. Her heart was already racing. His passion was obvious. She looked at the front of his trousers and spied a big bulge.
"You're hot already!" she squealed.
"Already, hell! I got hot just thinking about you on the way over!"
His admission further increased her excitement.
He stepped back from her and glared eagerly at her body. She had one of the finest figures he'd ever seen. Her face was a little too round, and the curlers made it look even rounder. True, she looked better with her hair combed out and cosmetics applied to her face, but she was very good-looking, even now.
"I think we'd better go into the bedroom." She took him by the hand and led him out of the living room. In the bedroom, she flung herself on the bed and splayed her legs.
"Come over here, tiger."
He went to her, unbuckling his belt as he sat on the edge of the bed. She helped him off with his pants and briefs after he'd slipped out of his shoes, but she made no effort to remove his shirt.
He reached for her triangle, but she pushed his hand away.
"None of that, love! I want the real thing, and I want it now!" She touched the tip" of his rod, then grabbed it tightly and pulled it until it touched the fluff between her legs. She squirmed and' rubbed it against her, making herself wet and ready.
Then she wailed, "C'mon man! Shove it in!" When he did, she moaned, "Oh, lord, how come you're so big?"
For the next five minutes, there was very little talk. Occasionally she would grunt, "Faster!" or "Harder!" but nothing else was said. In the end, their breathing was expelled in a duet of long, strenuous hisses. Just as they climaxed, she raised her head and bit into his shoulder while he hammered her.
In the lull that followed, they rolled apart and caught their breath.
"To think, just a week ago you were a virgin!" he exclaimed.
"Well, I've come a long way in a week. But you'll always be very important in my life, Ricky, because you were my first man. No matter how old I get, I'll never forget that first time."
"I'm glad it was me," he said.
She shrugged. "I'm not," she confessed bluntly. "I wish it could have been Carl. Not that you weren't great; it's just that it would've been nice to start off with my husband-for sentimental reasons." She smiled and added, "You sure screw good, though. They ought to make all men as big as you."
"Am I better than Carl?" It was a stupid question, and he was immediately sorry he'd asked it. He was jealous of Carl because Carl was a winner, and Rick felt like less of a man, having to come and beg money from his brother-in-law. So if Sue would admit that he was better in bed, it would be some consolation.
But Sue wouldn't. "That's my secret," she said. "I'll never tell."
"Want to do it again?"
"I'd love to, Ricky, but let me get fixed up first. These rollers are killing me. That was a pretty strenuous ride. I think my head's bruised from pounding it against the pillow!"
"So why did you pound it against the pillow?"
"I couldn't help myself. I do crazy things when you're giving it to me. Now if you'll excuse me...." She got up from the bed, then added, "If you want a drink, the bar's in the den. Help yourself."
While she was taking the curlers out of her hair, he got dressed, then fixed himself a drink. He limited himself to one, because he didn't want to get soused like he had last weekend. He needed his wits when he faced Carl to ask for another loan.
She came into the den and tapped him on the shoulder from behind. He hadn't heard her come in. When he turned, he found that she was still naked, but her hair was coiffed and she had applied make-up.
"How do I look now?"
"Wow!" was all he said.
"Darn! You put your clothes back on!" she lamented, noting that he was fully dressed.
"Yeah, but I see you didn't."
"I figured it would be a waste of time."
"Maybe you're right. Come sit on my lap."
When she complied, he laid his drink aside and placed one arm around her waist. With one finger of his other hand, he traced little circles around the ridges of her belly button.
"That's not the right hole," she informed him.
"How do you know? Have you ever tried to use it?" He adjusted her until she was lying crossways in his lap, her legs slung over one arm of the chair, her head resting on the other. Then he bent down and kissed her belly. Soon his tongue found her navel and probed.
"Hey!" she protested, giggling.
"What does it feel like?"
"It tickles!"
"How about here?"
He slid his tongue down her smooth belly until he encountered hair. He skipped over the hair and kissed the pink flesh in its center. Then his tongue ventured out and lapped eagerly at her most sensitive flesh.
"Oh, there! Yes, there!" She arched upward, causing more friction as he continued to stimulate her.
"I want to do it to yours now," she said, shifting her position so that he no longer had access to her honeypot.
"But, Suzy," he joked, "I don't have one of those!"
"You have something just as good!" she retorted, unzipping his pants and extracting his rod.
It was huge and firm. She got down on her knees, bent over, and kissed the tip. He allowed her to caress him several times with the tip of her tongue before he arched toward her, unable to restrain himself. For a few moments she continued to tease him by merely pecking with her lips, then she engulfed it, taking it fully three inches-inside her mouth. She began to bob her head.
His harsh breathing began having an erotic effect on her, and she couldn't help but place one of her hands on her pussy. While her fingers played with her own flesh, her mouth kept working on his rod. The sounds of his labored breathing filled the room, along with her soft, whimpering moans. When she sensed that he was about to climax, she stopped kissing and got on his lap again, ths time straddling him.
They finished, rocking to and fro chaotically on the chair.
Afterward, they passed an hour and a half by watching TV. At five till eleven, they again retired to the bedroom. They finished that tumble at eleventhirty.
When Carl came through the front door at twelve-fifteen, they were properly seated in separate chairs in the living room, discussing politics.
"Hi, honey," Carl said. Then he spied his brother-in-law. "What the hell is he doing here?"
"He dropped over to see you, darling," Sue explained. "He's been waiting." She neglected to say how long he'd been waiting.
"How did the game come out?" she asked.
"Made ten grand," he said matter-of-factly.
The idea of Carl's winning ten grand started Rick's heart racing with envy. Maybe Carl would be in a good mood, he speculated. Perhaps he'd lend him the money without blinking an eye! He was optimistic as he got up from his chair and offered Carl his hand.
The other refused to shake. "Did you come here to say something or to shake hands?" Carl asked sarcastically.
"Don't be so mean," his wife berated.
He turned to her, fire in his eyes. "Last week I caught you shacked up with this bastard, and now you expect me to be all palsy-walsy with him! No thanks!" He turned back to Rick. "Well, what is it you want?"
"I ... ah ... well, you know that money you loaned me last week?"
"Yeah. I still feel like an ass for letting you keep it after what you did! What about it?"
"Well, I'm going to need more, because...."
"You're what?"
"Hell, Carl, there's no sense trying to lie about the thing. I just don't have any more money. I closed out my checking account tonight. I went to Ted Jones' place and lost every damn cent of it!"
Sue could see the fury building in her husband as Rick made the admission. She felt she had to say something before the tension in the room exploded.
"It isn't his fault, Carl; maybe he's just having a bad run of luck. Carl! Don't you dare hit him!"
Her husband had tightened both fists and was stepping toward his brother-in-law.
Rick immediately raised his fists defensively, but Carl stopped short. For thirty breathless seconds, the two glared at each other.
"Look, Carl," Rick tried to explain, "I know what you think of me. And I know I've got no right coming here and asking for more bread. But if you'll see me through just this once more, I'll resolve never to bet another dime in my life! What do you say?"
Rick lowered his fists and waited for Carl to respond. The brief silence was agonizing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
No!" Carl finally shouted at the top of his lungs. "Absolutely not!"
"Please, Carl," Rick begged. "I'm sorry about me and your wife. I'll never look at her again if you'll just loan me a thousand. One lousy grand. You made ten times that much tonight."
"That's right, pal! And it's my money, don't forget it. It's also my house, and I'll give you exactly ten seconds to clear out!"
"But, Carl" he protested.
"You've now got five seconds. If you don't get the hell out, I'll call the cops, so help me!"
Rick was so bitterly humiliated that his eyes became misty. He swore under his breath as he headed for the door. When he reached it, he looked back toward Sue.
She merely shrugged her shoulders. There was nothing she could say.
When Rick had gone, she turned to her husband and said, "You didn't have to treat him like that. It was hard for him to ask you."
"You didn't really expect me to write another check for that bastard."
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
"What?" he growled.
"He's married to my sister. If he doesn't have enough money to put food on the table, she doesn't eat, either."
He didn't respond.
"Well, come on darling," she said, having made her point. "Let's go to bed."
Rick had to face his wife and tell her the bad news sooner or later, so he figured it might as well be now.
She was sitting up waiting for him in the living room, wearing only a sheer nightgown.
"Where the hell did you go?" she asked. "You didn't even say you were leaving." Before he could reply, she answered for him. "Let me guess. You were at the Jones place playing poker, right?"
He nodded.
"Well," she demanded, "let's have it. How much did you lose this time?"
"All of it," he admitted coolly.
"You mean you lost the entire fifteen hundred that Carl lent us?"
"Yeah," he grunted.
"You dumb S.O.B.! You had no right to bet that money! It was as much mine as it was yours! God, Ricky, you've really flipped your lid, haven't you?"
He sat on the sofa and faced her. "I tried to get another loan from Carl, but he said no dice."
"What did you expect?" she shouted, rising from her chair and pacing back and forth.
Rick couldn't control his emotions any longer. He placed his head in his hands and began weeping.
"For God's sake," she snarled. "For a cry baby, you sure have a big body!"
He couldn't stand his wife's ridicule. He ran out of the living room and up the stairs.
"That's it, little boy," she called after him. "You go upstairs to cry. I'll come up and tuck you in to your beddy-bye a little later. Right now, mommy's got to think!"
To Mag, there seemed to be only one way to get the money. She put her plan into operation two days later, Monday, when Rick was at work.
She called Carl at home and asked him to come over immediately. It was an emergency, she said.
He got there fifteen minutes later, at noon.
"What's the problem?" he asked as he entered the house.
Without answering she offered him a chair, and he sat down. Then she started talking casually about some decorations she was planning for the living room.
Finally, he interrupted her with, "What's this all about, Mag? You said there was an emergency."
"Oh, there is. But we'll get to that a little later."
"If it's an emergency," Carl pointed out, "we ought to get to it right away."
"First, tell me how you've been doing at poker," she said.
"Winning," he replied, his voice carrying an added quality that implied, what else? He flexed his fingers, wondering what she was getting at.
"Rick hasn't been doing so well." She waited for him to say something, but he remained silent, so she went on, "I'd like to borrow some money."
So that was it, he thought. "Mag," he said patiently, "I already lent your husband fifteen hundred bucks."
"I know. And he lost it, so you refused to lend him any more. He told me about it. But, Carl, he's sick. I'm trying to get him to see a psychiatrist, but in the meantime, I've got to think about myself. If he loses the house, what will that do to me? I hate to beg like this, but God, Carl, he only makes a normal salary, and we're in debt way over our heads! Why can't you give us a second chance?"
"I'll tell you why. You know what would happen if I gave you more money? The same thing that happened last time! I'd be out another fifteen hundred, and you'd be just as miserable as before."
She could see that she wasn't getting anywhere. It was time to put phase two of her plan into effect. She wouldn't be the first woman to seduce a man for money, she rationalized. It was the oldest game in the book.
She went over to him and plopped on his lap. Before he could open his mouth to protest, she had fitted her lips tightly against his.
While her lips maintained the pressure, her hands found and fondled his cock through the material of his trousers. Before long, it was hard. By the time she broke off the kiss, he didn't want to protest, but he said, "This won't do you any good, you know."
"Yes, it will," she responded knowingly.
"You sure are confident. What if I just give you a good tumble, but still refuse to lend you the money?"
"Oh, well, at least I'll get a good lay out of it."
She unbuckled his belt, opened his zipper, reached underneath his briefs and grasped his rod. Gradually, she drew her fingers toward the tip.
"You didn't know you had a hot-pantsed sister-inlaw, did you?" she asked.
"Yes, I knew."
"Then why didn't you ever take advantage of my proximity?"
"Because I didn't think it would be cricket, making it with my wife's sister."
"What changed your mind?" she asked, continuing to caress his cock.
"If I told you, you'd just get mad."
"No I won't. I promise."
"All right, you asked for it. I went home from a game one night and found a man in bed with my wife. I didn't actually see them in bed, but Sue came out in the hall all messed up. You know what I mean-hair all screwed up, flushed, sweaty. At first she pretended there was no one in the bedroom, but I looked for myself-and there was her lover, naked and quivering.
"Sounds like something my sister would do! I'll bet you were mad!"
"Well, I wouldn't have been so pissed off ordinarily, but it was just two days after our wedding, and I hadn't gotten inside her pants yet!"
"You mean you didn't have sex with her at all for the first two days?"
"Well, with business as it was, you see-"
"Never mind that. Go on, go on!" Mag's voice was heated with passion. She was excited because she was fondling Carl's dick, and also because of the story Carl was relating.
"When I looked inside the bedroom, I saw this bird sprawled on the bed like I said, without a stitch of clothes on, drunk as a lord. And I'll be goddamned if it wasn't someone I knew!"
"You're kidding!" In her excitement, she accidentally dug her nails into his tender flesh, and he squirmed. "Well, who was it?" she asked breathlessly.
"It was your husband," he said matter-of-factly, looking her in the eyes. He watched the smile vanish from her lips.
"Rick? It was Rick?"
"Yes."
"Why, that son of a bitch! And all the time he wanted me to act so pure and holy!" She stopped the up-and-down rhythm of her fondling hand. "Just wait till I get my hands on the bastard! I'll, I'll...."
"I didn't figure you to be the jealous type."
"I'm not jealous! It ... just comes as a shock ... to think that he screwed my very own little sister, and didn't even tell me!"
"You're very pretty," Carl said, changing the subject.
"Thank you. What made you say that?"
"Actually, I'm just trying to butter you up, so you'll go back to what you were doing." He looked in the direction of her idle hand in his lap.
"Are you really trying to butter me up?" she asked, an idea suddenly hitting her.
He nodded.
She jumped up from his lap and said, "I'll be right back." Thirty seconds later, she returned and handed him a stick of margarine.
"What's this for?"
In a jiffy, she stepped out of her slacks, slipped off her blouse, discarded her bra and removed her panties.
"It's so you can butter me up," she explained.
"Maggy! Surely you can't mean you want me to-"
"That's exactly what I mean. I want you to smear it all over me, darling. But before you do, you'd better step out of your clothes, or else you'll ruin them."
After a moment's hesitation, he rose and began to undress. She assisted him, and he was nude within a minute.
Before getting on with Mag's weird proposition, he pulled her in to his arms for one long, sustained kiss. While their tongues fought mostly with each other, he felt her boobs until she thought the tips were on fire.
"Enough of that," she pleaded. "Now, butter me!"
"Here? In the front room?"
"Yes, darling! It's my house, and I don't care. Don't worry about the furniture-the finance company will probably repossess it, anyway!" She was still hinting for the loan.
He peeled the wrapper from the margarine. "What shall I do with this?"
"Just drop it on the floor," she said.
He dropped the wrapper and held the stick of margarine in his left hand. "It's cold," he informed her.
"I know. It was in the fridge. But it'll start to melt as soon as you touch me with it. Come on, lover boy, don't be timid!"
He wasn't timid, exactly. But he was embarking on a new deviation in his sex life, and he was skeptical.
"Why does it have to be this stuff?" he asked. "Why not vaseline?"
"But, darling, that's too traditional."
Without further prompting, he reached forward and touched the margarine to her belly. She jumped and backed away. He leaned farther forward, but she laughed and scampered across the room. He followed her until he had her cornered between a chair and a bookshelf.
This time, Mag couldn't evade the cold margarine. Carl reached out and began to butter her up, while she half-heartedly tried to fend him off. After the first few strokes, she didn't resist. He greased the entire front of her body, spending a long time carefully spreading the goo on her tits. As he massaged her nipples with the yellow bar, she moaned softly.
At last he worked his way down to her legs. He greased her thighs, calves, and knees, even went as low as her ankles. Then he worked upward again, while she leaned against the bookcase and squirmed. Finally, he pressed the slick bar between her legs, making her moan and gasp as he rubbed the cube against her pussy.
"Now you!" she cried, grabbing for the margarine stick, which was now only half its original size.
"Oh, no, you don't!" he protested. "This was your idea. I don't want to be buttered!"
"But, Carl, it'll feel so good. You'll see."
He managed to keep the bar away from her, but she scraped a little of the margarine onto the tips of her fingers. Before he could stop her, she had caught hold of his rod and was greasing it good. He found it strangely exciting to be enveloped in that slippery grasp. With a sigh of resignation, he allowed her to take the remainder of the bar from his hand and grease his chest, arms and legs. When she was satisfied that he was thoroughly lubricated, she let the remaining gob of margarine fall to the carpet.
"You're going to have quite a cleaning job," he noted, eyeing the way the yellow stuff clung to the rug.
She ignored his last comment and hissed, "Quick, baby! Take me now! I can't wait?"
She ran over to a footstool and stood on it, bowing her knees invitingly and placing her middle on a level with his. Obviously, she wanted to make it standing up.
He was willing. He took three giant strides and reached for her, tugging at her waist until she leaned slightly toward him. Her flesh was slippery, but by holding her and thrusting upward, he secured the union.
"Yeah, baby, yeah!" she groaned as he began to drive up into her.
She wove her arms around him, thrilling to the feel of the film of margarine. Their bodies churned frantically against each other, but there was no friction.
She spread her feet wide apart on the footstool to give him the best possible access, and bumped downward each time he pressed toward her. She couldn't keep from whimpering like mad every time he shoved it up all the way. She bent her knees even more rocking her entire weight against him.
He could feel new, electric sensations every time she sank down on him that way. He took a quick glance at her face, saw that it was twisted with passion. Her eyes were closed tightly; the corners of her mouth quivered.
She gripped him more tightly to keep from falling.
She was driving fast toward the finish now, striving for it, slaving for it.
She felt a distant throb forming in the pit of her cunt as they slithered together, working to thrill each other with every move.
"I can't stand this any more!" she screamed. "I've got to lie down."
Feeling the same way about it, he somehow managed to lift her and carry her to the couch without having his rod slip out.
Now she was flat on her back, and he began to thrust again. Her hands found his head and pulled it down for a kiss, while she worked her greasy fingers through his hair.
Then, like a couple of well-oiled seals, they went completely wild. The oscillating rhythm was fast, then slow. The fluctuating cadence caused them to become more sex-mad by the second.
Grabbing her arms and lifting them over her head, he slid his hands downward until they tickled the sensitive skin of her armpits. Then he clutched her breasts as the delirium of the moment became almost unbearably intense.
She clawed his shoulders, tearing away the top layer of skin. He felt no pain.
Suddenly her acrobatics became chaotic. There was no way to curb or delay the outcome. A series of twists and bucks of her nude and buttered body, and she was gone, over the brink.
While she was still coming, her face contorted and her body stiff, Carl hit his peak. They shared fifteen seconds more of sheer delight before the feeling ebbed.
Then, in the quiet aftermath, he rolled off her and sat on the edge of the couch. He studied her as the sun light penetrated the curtains and caused her buttered skin to glisten. Her eyes were closed.
Finally she opened them and smiled at Carl. "How was that?" she asked.
"Well, it sure was different"
"Yeah, but did you like it?"
"What do you think?" He continued to eye her gorgeous nude body, waiting for her to ask the inevitable question.
It came. "Now, do I get the loan?" she asked, reaching forward and lightly pinching his dick between two fingers.
"I'm still not convinced," he said.
"Let me clean up this place, and then I'll convince you," she promised. Evidently, she was worried about the sofa, which was, of course, well-covered with margarine.
She disappeared in the kitchen and returned with several wet rags and a bottle of stain remover. "Here," she said, handing him one of the rags. "You try the rug."
He went over to where she'd dropped the glob of margarine, and tried his best to get it off.
He cleaned up most of the mess, but the stain was still there. Across the room, Maggy was having similar difficulty.
"Shit!" she exclaimed. "It won't come out!"
"What'll your dear husband think?"
"He'll probably have something nasty to say, but he'll never suspect the truth. Aafter all, not too many people associate butter with sex!" She dabbed her rag with spot remover and made several labored attempts to rub away the stain. Finally she said, "Hell, this isn't doing any good. Might as well forget it."
She took the rags back to the kitchen.
"I'm going to take a shower," she announced upon returning. "You want to join me?"
"Might as well," he said. "But let me caution you, you're not going to get that loan just by taking a shower with me!"
"I know, darling. But let's just get this damn butter off, and then you'll see what further amusements I have in store for you."
She led him by the hand toward the shower.
CHAPTER NINE
Rick couldn't concentrate on his job. He kept thinking about the money he'd lost and the payments he wouldn't be able to meet. Several times during the morning, he'd caught himself gazing blankly at his desk for fifteen; minutes or more.
When it was time for lunch, he asked his supervisor for the rest of the afternoon off.
He stopped by a bar on the way home and had a beer. It helped to quiet his nerves.
When he got home, he noticed a pile of clothing in the living room. It didn't shock him. He figured Mag had probably been having a ball ever since they'd agreed it was all right to have other lovers. But it irked him to find that one of her studs was here now. Angrily, he kicked her panties across the room.
The man's clothes were lying in a disorderly pile, and Rick spied a wallet that had fallen out of the fellow's pocket. Hoping to find enough money to gamble with, he looked inside the billfold.
There was only a twenty-dollar bill. Not many people carried around more money than that, but Rick had vaguely hoped the bastard had just cashed his paycheck, or that he just happened to be rich and always carried a grand or so in his wallet. No such luck.
Next, Rick extracted the driver's license, curious about what kind of man his wife had shacked up with. He glared at the photo in the corner of the card, gritting his teeth. Carl Simmons' eyes seemed to glare back at him spitefully.
So, his brother-in-law was in the process of getting even for the time he'd caught Rick with Sue! Well, unbeknownst to Carl, it would take more than just one romp to get even, Rick thought.
He tiptoed up the stairs, wondering if he might sneak up on the amorous pair and rip them apart in a fit of madness.
At the open door to the master bedroom, he stopped and watched. Carl and Mag were really going at it on the bed, screwing in the traditional position-Mag beneath with her legs around Carl. Her eyes were shut, but from the expression on her face, it was clear to Rick that she was about to have an orgasm. He knew that expression well.
Now she began waving her legs in the air as Carl humped with ever-quickening thrusts, the muscles of his arms and thighs quivering as ecstasy approached.
Rick's rage grew. "The bitch!" he whispered under his breath. "She's acting as if Carl's a better stud than I am!" He'd seldom brought her to such an extremely high pitch of excitement, and now uncontrollable pangs of jealousy shot through him. Just as he made up his mind to pry the adulterous couple apart, they both hit their peaks. They gasped, groaned and thrashed against each other.
Rick stepped into the bedroom while they were lost in their lust, but of course Carl was staring down at Mag's face, and her eyes were still closed.
Then a remarkable thing happened.
While Mag was sailing through the galaxy of sensation, she cried out, "Now do I get the loan, baby?"
Rick stopped ten feet short of the bed. He immediately realized what was happening-Mag was trying to screw a loan out of Carl! In his anger, Rick had almost blown the whole scene.
He tiptoed out of the bedroom as rapidly as he could.
He went downstairs, hid in a closet and waited.
Ten minutes later, Carl and Mag came down and began picking up their clothes. They got dressed, then Mag said, "Now, let's talk business."
"Tell you what I'll do," Carl responded. "I'll write you a check for two grand-"
"I thought you'd see it my way," she interrupted.
"-On one condition," he went on. "You've got to keep it out of Rick's hands so he won't gamble it away. Open an account in your name only. Is that a deal?"
"Of course it's a deal."
Carl wrote out a check and handed it to her. She kissed him on the cheek in appreciation.
"You'll keep in touch, won't you?" she asked.
"You bet. After today, a team of wild horses couldn't keep me away. I guess I married into a pretty wild family."
"You bet you did. And don't think that little sister of mine is any tamer. If you don't keep your eyes on her, she'll be making it with every man in the country! I still can't get over the idea of her making out with my husband just two days after your marriage!"
Carl blew her a kiss, which she returned. Then he went out the front door.
As soon as it clicked shut, Rick stormed out of the closet, yelling "So he told you, did he!"
"Rick! Oh, shit! What are you doing here?"
"I'll tell you what I'm doing here-I was watching you prostitute yourself! And why the hell did he have to tell you about me and Sue? I thought gentlemen weren't supposed to tell."
"Gentlemen aren't supposed to kiss and tell," she corrected. "There's nothing that says they can't see and tell!" She glared at him furiously. "You expect me to be the ail-American prude, while you skip around town like a bachelor?"
"We have an agreement, remember? It's all right to make it with anyone we want-for fun. But we aren't supposed to noise it around. That was your proposal, Mag. Don't you remember?"
"Oh, don't give me that crap! You screwed Sue before we made the agreement, and you know it!"
"So what!" he snarled. "I caught you at that lovers' lane before we made the agreement, so that makes us even!"
"If that makes us even," she pointed out, "why are you so pissed? Surely you must realize that there's nothing between us any more. All our love flew out the window when you started gambling. You're not the same man I married. I've lost all the feeling I once had for you. So tell me," she continued, "why did you come sneaking home in the middle of the afternoon?"
"I was sick."
"Oh, were you, darling," she said unemotionally. "And what were you sick of? Being broke? Or were you sick with gambling fever?"
"Carl wrote you a check. Let me see it!"
She stepped up to him and faced him from only an inch away, twisting her mouth into a phony smile. "No," she said flatly.
"I said, let me see it!"
She shook her head. "No," she said again.
He pushed her away. "Don't come near me. You smell bad!"
"Why, Ricky. I don't smell bad. I just smell loved, the same as when you finish with me. There's only one difference! When you finish with me, I never feel this satisfied!"
"Slut! Bitch!"
"Are those the only two words you know?"
"Give me that check, Mag, before-"
"Before you hit me? That'll be a new wrinkle. First a gambler, then a wife-beater. You lose on both counts."
"I want that check!" There was an insistent glare in his eyes, one that Mag had never seen before.
It sent a chill through her body. "It's mine!" she said. "And you don't have any claim to it. You don't think I'm crazy enough to hand it over to you? It's going into a checking account-in my name!"
"Like hell it is! Where did you put it?"
She ran over to an end table and took the check from beneath ,a flower pot. Quickly, she tucked the paper into her brassiere, then she ran upstairs.
He ran after her.
In the bedroom, they confronted each other. "See, darling...." She slipped out of her blouse and removed her bra. " ... it's not there any more!"
"Where did you hide it?"
"I don't see why you're so concerned, Ricky. You can't cash it anyway. It's in my name." While she talked, her unholstered boobs bounced freely.
Rick wasn't the least bit interested in her nudity. "Get it!" he hissed.
"No," she said flatly.
His eyes glistened hatefully. His rage was about to explode. He ran to the dresser and looked through the drawers, throwing some clothing on the floor, some on the rumpled bed.
"For God's sake, Rick. It isn't there!"
"Where, then?"
"Look, Ricky, I'm not going to tell you, so forget it. See how you're raving now? I've asked you to go see a psychiatrist, and now I must insist on it. Here," she said, walking toward, the phone, I'll call and make an appointment for you right away." She wasn't being sarcastic; rather, her voice was filled with compassion. She began dialing.
He came over, roughly pulled the receiver from her hand, and slammed it down. Somehow, she got her finger caught between the receiver and the phone.
"Oh, goddamn it!" she yelled. "You broke my finger!"
In reality, her finger wasn't broken, though it hurt badly enough.
Rick ignored her pain. "Where is it?" he demanded.
Tears were flooding her eyes. "You find it yourself!" She left the room and went to the bathroom to cry.
Rick continued to tear through the dresser drawers. He looked under the mattress, under the edges of the rug and behind the furniture. He looked through the closet, opened her shoe boxes, searched all the pockets of his suits. He found nothing.
He checked the lamp shades, the window sills and the waste basket without luck. Finally he stormed out of the bedroom and pounded on the bathroom door.
"What do you want?" Mag asked, sobbing.
"You know damn well what I want. Come out of there!"
When she didn't come out, he began to pound the door even more vehemently. It shook and almost collapsed under his assault. Still she remained inside.
"I'll break it down!" he threatened.
There was a short silence, then she unlocked the door and opened it.
"Have you gone loony?" she wanted to know. "You scare me, you really do. That look in your eyes-it's as if you're a maniac or something!"
"Where is the check?" he asked again. When she didn't respond, he grabbed her by one arm and yanked her into the hallway.
She was shocked by his roughness. He'd never laid a hand on her before. "Let go!" she hissed. "You let go of me this instant!"
He twisted her arm. "Tell me! Where is it?"
"No," she said stubbornly, pain evident on her face.
He applied more pressure. She squirmed in agony. Still more pressure. She gritted her teeth and shook her head. Her wrist and forearm seemed to be on fire.
"Please, Ricky, don't!"
"Then tell me!"
"No. No I won't, not ever." Tears were streaming down her face. She was crying not only because of the pain, but also because of the mental agony of being tortured by her own husband.
He lashed out with one fist and caught her on the cheek. Her head snapped back, and a pathetic expression came over her face.
"Ricky, why?"
"Don't make me hurt you," he pleaded. "Don't make me!"
"No," she responded insistently. "I won't tell you. You can't gamble with that money. It's our only chance to keep the house!"
"I'll win, Mag. I promise." He was pleading like a little boy, but he didn't ease any of the pressure on her arm. He continued to twist cruelly.
"You're sick, baby. You never win! Everything was all right before you started gambling. Remember how it-oh, God-used to be?" The pain was now almost too much for her to endure.
He punched her again with his free hand, this time grazing her chin. She cried out in anguish and kicked at him futilely. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, causing the tears to gush down her cheeks.
"Where?" he insisted. And when she still refused to answer, he slapped her several times across the face.
She bit her lip to keep from telling him. He tightened his fist and whacked her full strength on the side of the head. She went limp and her eyes rolled.
Releasing his hold on her, he let her body sag to the floor. For a moment, he knelt beside her, wailing, "Oh, Maggy, I'm sorry!"
Then, quickly, his sympathy faded. He shook her violently, trying to bring her back to consciousness. She opened her eyes hesitantly and peered upward as if she didn't recognize him.
"Mag! The check, please!" He had no control over his madness now. He began to slap her face again. "Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!"
"In the phone book!" she whispered, using all her remaining strength to gasp out the words.
He left her in the hallway and went to the bedroom. He picked up the telephone book and flipped through it. The check was there.
He took a pen from the nightstand and returned to where his wife lay. She had passed out again. He got a glass of cold water from the bathroom and poured it on her. Opening her eyes, she gazed at him blankly.
"Maggy, here!" He tried to place the pen between her fingers.
Her hand shook violently, and she was unable to hold the pen.
"Maggy, please sign it! I'll win lots of money if you do. It'll be for us, so we won't have to worry any more."
As he stared at her, he saw that she was comprehending nothing of what he said. He realized then how severely he had injured his wife. Lumps were already forming on her face, and a trickle of blood flowed from one corner of her mouth. Her eyes were bloodshot.
"No," she whispered. "No, Ricky." She passed out again.
He tried everything to bring her to. He poured more water on her, slapped her face, made her breathe ammonia. Nothing worked.
Finally, he gave up and forged her signature on the check.
He went downstairs and called for an ambulance. When the receptionist asked for more specific information, he merely told her it was a matter of life or death, and hung up.
Before leaving, he went upstairs and knelt beside Mag again. She was murmuring, though unconscious.
He tried once more to bring her around. When he failed, he leaned over and kissed her bruised lips. "Oh, Maggy, I'm sorry, so sorry!" he sobbed, making no effort to restrain himself.
Five minutes later, he left the house, after pinning a note to the mailbox. It read: "The door is unlocked. Go upstairs-hurry!"
He drove to the bank and cashed his wife's check. With his wallet bulging with the forty fifty-dollar bills the teller had handed him, he drove to the Jones mansion.
Jones, himself, came to the door. "You're a little early," he said, looking at his watch and noting that it was two in the afternoon. "Today's game won't start till about six or six-thirty."
The news came as a disappointment to Rick. Sometimes there was a game in progress in the afternoon.
"Why don't you come on in?" Jones offered. "I've got all kinds of chicks around the place, and I can't take care of all of them."
Rick nodded and stepped through the door. His head was spinning. The knowledge of what he'd done to his wife throbbed through his mind. He had a severe headache. There was only one way to make it up to Maggy-he had to win big!
"You want to see something entertaining?" Jones asked. Without waiting for a confirmation, he added, "Follow me."
They went down a hallway until they came to the last bedroom. Jones opened the door and went inside. Rick followed. Jones sat down in one of two cushiony chairs that faced an enormous bed, and offered Rick the other. , When his guest was comfortably seated, Jones clapped his hands and hollered, "Girls!"
Within a matter of seconds, two heavy-breasted broads came into the room. They wore nothing but transparent panties. Jones let out a sigh of pleasure as the two girls sat down together on the edge of the bed and faced the men. Rick wasn't impressed. He hardly noticed as the heavier of the two girls ran a loving hand through the smaller one's hair and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
He was thinking only of the terrible thing he'd done to Mag. And his mind was focused on what he had to do to be forgiven.
Gamble! Win!
The girls on the bed were now engaged in a passionate embrace. Their lips were fitted softly against each other's. Their boobs touched. The girl on the right was the stronger. She had rather muscular arms and powerful thighs; her hair was jet-black and cut short. Her partner had long blonde hair, dainty facial features and blue eyes that were very seductive.
"Hey," the blonde said, looking toward the men, "who's the guy with you, Teddy?"
Jones introduced Rick. Then he told Rick the girls' names. The blonde was Valerie;, the brunette, Enid. Both girls stopped their love play for long enough to wink playfully at Ted and give Rick the once-over. Then they looked away from the men and concentrated on each other.
They kissed again, this time with their tongues inside each other's mouths. Valerie reached out and cupped Enid's butt, pulling the big woman closer.
Enid bit into Valerie's shoulder, and the little blonde squirmed and squealed. They embraced cheek to cheek, and there was a lot of whispering, but neither Rick nor Jones could make out any of it.
It was mere Lesbian talk-words said to goad each other into more passionate and more complex embraces.
They seemed to know exactly what to do. They toyed with each other's tits until their nipples were fiery red. Next, Valerie bent down and sucked on Enid's left boob.
"Mmm," murmured Enid. "Now the other one!"
While both girls still sat with their legs hanging over the edge of the mattress, Valerie shifted her attention from the left to the right boob of her partner. Enid, meanwhile, reached between Valerie's legs and stroked the moist crotch of her panties. Valerie began to pant. Her teeth gritted and she whistled with every breath.
Like a dragon breathing flame, Rick thought. Even though he'd at first had little interest in the activities of the broads on the bed, he was beginning to be fascinated by their activities.
Enid pushed aside the pantie elastic that hugged one of Valerie's legs. When the blonde's pink flesh was visible, Enid shoved two fingers in up to the hilt. The fingers moved in and out, making thrusts that simulated the function of a man's penis.
Valerie went wild. She continued to suck Enid's boobs as her cunt was invaded.
The bigger broad lifted her butt off the mattress so Valerie could remove her panties. Then Valerie slipped out of her own undies.
Rick heard Jones' breathing grow harsher as the older man watched his hired Lesbians go wild.
They gripped each other fiercely, their mouths locked together and their boobs crushed into one massive heap of flesh. Finally, Valerie rolled onto her back and Enid got on top of her.
Clasping three fingers together to form a single rod, Enid forced them up Valerie's cunt. The action grew wild and feverish.
"Push hard!" Val pleaded. "Up! Up all the way!"
Enid forced the fingers up as far as she could Valerie squirmed, lifting her butt high in the air, then dropping her entire weight on the bed. Both bodies were now sweat-covered, both slid on the silk bedspread.
For ten breathless seconds, the two participants looked at each other. There was no movement. Their eyes locked from a distance of six inches. Then Valerie nodded.
Immediately Enid removed her fingers and lowered her mouth to Val's belly. The black-haired broad licked around the smaller woman's navel, then worked southward. Her tongue tickled the edges of Val's pussy.
"Oh!" Val hissed. "Oh! Oh!"
Jones tapped Rick on the shoulder. "No better way to spend an afternoon than watching a couple of dykes go at it, huh?"
Rick nodded, too intent on the action to answer.
Now Enid was lapping rhythmically at the center of Val's passion.
"Turn around!" Val insisted. "I want to do you too."
Without letting her lips leave Val's cunt, Enid managed to make a hundred-eighty degree turn. Val brought her head up between Enid's thighs and began giving the big woman reciprocal treatment.
Together they slurped and sucked until both were on the verge of plunging into ecstasy.
"The one on top," Jones said, tapping Rick once again on the shoulder. "She's a bulldyke!"
"Hmm," was all Rick said. He thought that Jones' comment was unnecessary. After all, he could plainly see that Enid was the more masculine of the two.
Valerie was first to topple over the brink of bliss. Her legs slithered open and closed on the silk bedspread as she hit the peak, screamed shrilly at the top of her lungs, and lapped furiously at Enid as she flew off her rocker.
Enid was frantic. "More, more, more!" the big woman pleaded, after her mate had finished spasming. "Hurry, hurry-make me go big!"
Rick nearly went out of his mind watching the muscular woman approach her climax. Her thighs flexed, her flanks quivered, her whole body seemed to be one pulsating mass of flesh.
He thought she was one of the most strangely attractive women he'd ever laid eyes on.
She bounced against Val's tongue, forcing her whole weight against the dainty woman's lips.
Two seconds later, she was gone.
One hundred forty pounds of quivering flesh collapsed on the smaller woman's body. For thirty seconds, they kissed and caressed each other's thighs appreciatively. Then they rolled apart.
"Quite a show, huh?" Jones said.
"Yeah," Rick replied, "quite a show."
The older man gazed for a long time at the sweatsoaked Lesbians. When he turned to Rick, there was an evil glimmer in his eyes.
"There's still more action to come," he promised. "Be my guest." He nodded toward the exhausted pair on the bed.
CHAPTER TEN
Rick was flabbergasted.
"You mean you want me to screw one of them while you watch?"
"On the contrary. I'm not going to watch. I'm going to participate. It would be improper etiquette if I took first choice. I'll take whichever one you leave for me."
Although surprised by Jones' bold offer, Rick was too worked up to refuse. The scene that had just ended was one of the most erotically stimulating shows he'd witnessed in his lifetime. It had been the first time he'd seen a pair of Lesbians in the throes of passion, and the event had left him lustful.
He was remembering the intricate, passionate moves that the two women had made. Their squirms and sighs had implanted an indelible impression in his mind. Rick was sure that many of these moves had been play-acted, and that, even during their culminations, the girls had been acutely aware that they had an audience. Ted Jones paid them well; consequently they put on a good show. However, he knew that not all of their actions had been faked.
It was their spontaneous, unrehearsed screams and gasps that had turned Rick on. Now he wanted to climb into bed with one of the broads and pump the hell out of her.
But which one?
Both girls were gazing at him expectantly. The petite blonde had the big brunette beat for sheer femininity, but Enid had an unmistakably alluring face. Her cheeks were full, her broad lips turned lightly upward at the corners, forming a seductive smile.
"If you'd prefer," Jones offered as Rick continued to appraise the two on the bed, "there are four others around the house you can pick from. They must be napping or watching TV or some damn thing."
"I'll pick from these," Rick said, and both of the women smiled at him.
The blonde focused her blue eyes on him without blinking. She seemed to be begging him to choose her. But Enid was pleading with her eyes too. Obviously, both preferred him to the older man.
"Come on, Enid!" he said at last.
Valerie was momentarily hurt by his decision, but she immediately covered up her displeasure by smiling at Jones. Rick stood in the doorway and held out a hand for Enid.
"You don't mind if we find ourselves a bedroom?" Rick asked his host.
Jones rubbed his hand across the bottom of his chin thoughtfully. "Well, no. I don't mind. But I kind of figured you'd use this bedroom-I planned on us all using it. You see, Enid and Val-they don't like to be separated. Do you, girls?"
While Enid shook her head in agreement, Val said, "No. We just can't stand to be apart, even for a minute." She got up from the bed and came over to Jones. She took him by the hand and led him to the bed. "Come on, lover," she said to the older man, "let's have a ball!"
Enid came over to fetch Rick. She led him to the bed just as Val had led Jones seconds earlier. Within moments, Enid's hands were all over him, feeling his chest through his shirt, seeking and finding his rod through the material of his trousers.
She wasn't surprised to find it firm. He'd gotten a hard-on when Enid and Val had begun their dyke performance, and he'd held it ever since. He lay with the husky woman on the lower portion of the king-size bed, with Jones and his babe only a few feet away.
Jones was grunting. He whispered to Val, loud enough for the other couple to hear, "You gonna give me some special favors, honey?"
"You bet, Teddy!" Val replied.
Seconds later Rick looked over to the other end of the bed and saw that Val had removed Jones' pants and was blowing him unabashedly.
Rich looked away and concentrated on his own pleasure. Enid was loosening his belt and worming her fingers beneath his underpants She squeezed the tip of his rod, and he sighed. She glanced toward the upper portion of the bed, then looked back at Rick.
"You want some of that?" she asked.
He told her exactly what he wanted, and it wasn't a blow job.
"Hey!" Val giggled, "You better watch your language, Rick. After all, there're ladies present."
"Sorry," Rick apologized jokingly.
"Where are these ladies you're talking about?" Jones asked between emotion-charged breaths.
"You just shut up, or I'll quit!" Val threatened.
"Quit what you've been doing, or quit working for me?" Jones asked.
"Both," she said, though her lips never stopped caressing Mm.
"You wouldn't dare," he retorted with certainty.
Meanwhile, Enid had removed all of Rick's clothing except for his socks and T-shirt. While he reached for and grabbed a magnificent tit, she removed his remaining garments. Now, both nude, they stared lustfully at each other from a distance of inches. They kissed once, briefly.
Then he pushed her onto her back and tore into her, stabbing deep with one well-placed thrust. She squealed and went limp momentarily. Then she surged toward him with her powerful body. Her legs rose in the air, then her heels locked onto the backs of his thighs. She pressed toward him with all her might. She was a hell of a lot stronger than he'd imagined; she was practically taking the lead away from him.
He tried to pin her to the mattress by holding both her hands above her head, but she fought free and pounded his shoulders with vicious fists.
"You're my first man in a year," she hissed. "I didn't think I could enjoy myself with a man any more."
He was too far gone to comment on her heated admission. He heard the whooshing of her ever-increasing breathing which mingled with the gasps, whispers, murmurs and babbling of the other amorous twosome. In the midst of his passionate endeavor, Rick glanced over his shoulder and noticed that Val was no longer mouthing her partner. Now she had climbed aboard Jones and was riding him for all he was worth.
Rick shoved himself into the very depths of Enid, listening to her cooing all the while. He jabbed her with all his strength, rose and drilled into her again. As his strokes became more rapid, her movements beneath him became more energetic. She ground her tits into his chest and twisted like mad. She quit pounding him with her fists and wrapped her arms around him. She squeezed. Even as big as he was, he winced with pain as she held him in that bear hug.
He moved faster. She heaved herself up against him. Stroke by stroke, they approached release.
"Plunge!" she cried as she dug her heels more firmly into his thighs.
If it hadn't been for the extreme pleasure he was deriving, he would have been tormented by the pain she was inflicting. She clawed his shoulders and ran her nails along his backbone.
She arched up off the mattress and sounded her warning. "I'm there! I'm going to come any second!"
Then they both made it. She pounded his back with doubled fists. He grabbed her arms and tried to restrain her, but it was no use. Her strength, which was remarkable to begin with, was augmented by her outburst of intense passion. She bit into his shoulder, breaking through the skin.
"You bitch!" he screamed as she locked her teeth into him and bucked against his body with every ounce of energy she could muster.
She returned his vulgar compliment, calling him bastard and son of a bitch and a number of other sweet nothings.
Finally they relaxed their holds on each other and rolled apart, breathless and satiated.
When Rick had sufficiently recovered to focus his mind on reality, he was aware of the shooting pain in his shoulder. When he dabbed his fingers to the wound, he found that it was bleeding.
Still panting, Enid looked at him and said, "Sorry about that. Let me get you something." She got off the bed and left the room.
Rick stared at the pair on the other end of the bed. They were still going at it. Jones, on the bottom, was grunting in ecstasy. Then orgasmic lightening struck both of them. Jones lurched upward, trembling, and Valerie screamed and pressed down on him with all her strength, rocking as if out of control.
Rick wondered if she was only faking. If she was putting on an act, she was doing a damned good job of it-beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, and the muscles in her thighs quivered.
By the time Enid returned with gauze and ointment, the other pair had rolled apart. While Enid applied the soothing cream to the teeth marks on Rick's shoulder, Jones began to dress.
"Well, Rick, what'd you think of that?" He asked, as he pulled his socks over his ankles. "Do you think I have pretty good taste?"
"Great taste," Rick said, though his voice wasn't as enthusiastic as it might have been. He was thinking of the purpose for which he'd come-gambling. Now that his passion had been slaked, he was conscious of the painful truth-that he'd beaten his wife, and that she was probably in a hospital bed at this very moment.
"Would you care for any more bedroom entertainment?"
"No, thanks. Not for a while, anyway." He decided to come right out and state what was on his mind. "You wouldn't care for a little head-to-head poker, would you?"
"If you like," Jones replied. "All right, girls," he said, nodding toward the door, "see you later."
Enid and Valerie left the room without turning around.
"What stakes?" Jones wanted to know. "Two grand," Rick said.
They went downstairs and sat at the poker table surrounded by the murals of nude women.The older man took out a fresh deck and allowed Rick to break the seal.
Rick handed over his whole roll of fifty-dollar bills, and Jones gave him the appropriate amount of chips.
Rick played cautiously for the first fifteen minutes, then won a big hand. By the end of the next hour, he'd won nearly three grand. Nothing could stop him now, he thought.
By four-thirty, when he was fifteen thousand ahead, Jones began to show signs of irritation.
Valerie came down to serve drinks. When she noticed the size of Ricks's winnings, she began to look over his shoulder and smile at him. She liked to hang around with winners.
Meanwhile, Sue and Carl were spending a romantic afternoon together. Carl hadn't forgiven himself for not satisfying his wife during the first two days of their marriage-consequently, he was using every spare moment to make it up to her.
They finished their highballs and placed the glasses on a coffee table in the living room. Sue came over to the couch where Carl was sitting and plopped in his lap. She gave him an exaggerated kiss, "You know what I want to do this very minute?" she asked.
"What?"
She leaned down and whispered one word into his ear.
"Sue!" he scolded. "Ladies aren't supposed to use such language!"
"When I feel like a lady, I don't use it. But when I'm thinking about bed, I don't feel like a lady. I feel like a wanton temptress. And what's more, you're glad I do, my prudish husband!"
"Prudish! Listen kid, I was getting inside women's pants when you were still in diapers!"
"Braggart! All you can do is talk! Your bark's about twice as big as your bite!"
He pushed the collar of her blouse aside and bit her shoulder lightly.
"My bite's bigger than you think it is," he mumbled against her skin, as she squirmed and giggled in pleasure.
She shifted her weight so her buttocks fitted more securely into his lap. "I'm sorry I called you prudish," she conceded. "Actually, you're quite a libertine!"
"Wow!" he joked, "I'm flattered."
She kissed him tenderly, letting her tongue trace the edges of his mouth. "And not only a libertine," she added. "You're also a profligate and a rake!"
"Surely you can't mean that about your very own husband!"
"I do mean it darling. Now will you hurry up and do me some good before I have a Big O just thinking about it?"
He pushed her gently out of his lap and rose to his feet. "Follow me, fair maiden. We shall now go to yonder bed and ... and...." He was trying to think of a poetic term for it. " ... make love," he finally finished.
"Screw," she corrected. "That's the word you were looking for, darling." She followed him into the bedroom.
They sat on the edge of the bed and removed their shoes. Then she bounced into the center of the bed, and he turned to favor her with a lengthy French kiss.
When he pulled away, she squealed, "Feel me, Carl."
He reached under her skirt, allowed his fingers to travel up her thighs, and found that she was wearing no panties.
He caressed the damp area between her legs, using only his fingertips.
"Deeper, deeper!" she cried.
But he chose to torment her with light petting. His fingers would barely make contact with her sensitive skin, then pull away altogether. Her eyes were frosted with glistening need. Her lips quivered, as if forming words, but no words were spoken. Just when he was about to drive her crazy with the soft touch of his fingers, he'd retreat. Then he stopped to remove her blouse and bra.
"Oh, Carl!" she moaned.
He shifted his gaze from her eyes to her boobs. The nipples seemed to be winking at him, begging to be handled. He used his free hand to toy with her breasts.
This served to excite her more fully, though the crux of her passion was concentrated below. Every time he brushed his fingers through her fluff, she moaned and doubled her fists tightly to restrain herself from reaching down and forcing him to do what she wanted him to do.
"Carl, baby, please push harder," she whimpered.
Finally he gave in and used the palm of his hand to rub her briskly. The sensitive center skin clung to his hand like a suction cup. Instinctively, she reached for his rod and grasped it through the material of his slacks, then she unzipped his pants and extracted it.
After squeezing it several times, she begged, "Please, doll, give it to me now."
He wasted no time. Within five seconds he had shoved her skirt up above her hips and was about to thrust into her.
"Oh, hurry, honey!" she yelled.
He shoved it in. She moaned and wrapped her arms around him. "More, more, more...." she blurted with every stroke he took.
She struggled up toward him as he churned and plunged. Their activity was more energetic than it had ever been before. This afternoon romp was tinning into one of the wildest tumbles that Carl, despite his vast reservoir of experience, had ever had.
Sue was screaming a steady stream of coarse but encouraging words now. "Gore me! Stick me! Shaft me!" she howled. As the intensity of Carl's bucking increased, Sue's words came more rapidly with each plunge.
Just where his wife had picked up such a remarkable slang vocabulary was something Carl would never know.
He began to pick up speed. She matched his rhythm, vault for vault.
"Do it, do it!" she was screaming. "Oh, shit, Carl! I'm going crazy! Go faster! Yeah ... oh, yes!"
They toiled on ecstatically. Sweat soaked her breasts; his shirt was transparent with perspiration. He continued to fondle her slick boobs as, stroke by stroke, again and again with the backs of his legs. The tip of they approached completion, she trembled and tossed beneath him.
She kicked like a wild animal, her heels colliding his rod began to pulsate, and he knew the end was coming. He slowed his tempo and tried to hold back the inevitable, wanting her to finish first. But she continued to goad him with upward lunges of her sex-maddened body. Carl began to plunge again, unable to suppress his movements.
Then she was at the summit, and the sensation came to her as a blinding, throbbing release of tension. He twitched and turned, pressing his full weight on her as spasm after spasm hit him, too.
Her release seemed to go on forever.
Then it began to ebb. But her body had another surprise in store. Just as the last pulsations of her orgasm ended, she felt a new wave of sensation on the verge of exploding. Unable to help herself, she began to arch against her husband.
"Sue, I'm done," he protested.
"I know," she whined, "but I can't stop now. It's like someone forgot to turn off the faucet!"
Had he been even a little less drained, he might have been aroused by her heated admission. It was the first time he'd ever made a woman hit back-to-back crests. Although he wasn't able to respond, and even felt a little pain in his cock as she clamped on to it, he was fascinated by her activities.
His fingers still played with her tits, and he studied the expression on her face while she strove onward, mouth twisted, forehead wrinkled, cheeks sweating, quivering. It was as if Sue was being tortured, but it was sweet torture, and she loved every second of it. She slapped her belly against his, a cracking sound echoing in the room with each whip of her body. She was nearing her second pinnacle now.
"Does it hurt?" she asked between gritted teeth. "I'm sorry if it does, darling. But I-" Whatever she was about to say never got out. Instead, she gasped harshly and heaved with renewed effort.
His rod had gone partially limp, but it was still firm enough to serve its purpose. A few seconds ago she'd asked if she was hurting him, but now she was beyond caring. She was on the brink of the most profound ecstasy she'd ever experienced, and all that existed in her mind at that moment was her insane, unreasoning need.
Because his rod was gradually receding, she had to struggle intensely to get what she wanted. But finally she screamed out her glory, rolling and tossing beneath him and wallowing in her achievement.
For thirty seconds afterward, she didn't say a word. Carl remained silent too, allowing her to soak in the soothing aftermath of her great pleasure.
At last she said, "Man, what ever happened to me? I've never done that before! I always thought it was impossible-I mean to go twice in a row. Bam, bam! Just like that. Do you think my sex glands are over-active?"
"I think your sex glands work like a well-tuned machine," he replied.
"A well-oiled machine is what you mean," she corrected.
"Yeah," he agreed. "That too."
"You know what, my dear husband? This may come as quite a shock to you, but if you're sure you want to hear it, I'll tell."
"I'm listening."
"I love you," she said. "There, isn't that shocking news? A woman in love with the man she just had sex with-and her husband's the man! Wow, that's the way they used to do it in Victorian times!"
"Maybe that's the way we ought to do it from now on, since it's so rewarding. Just you and me, Sue. No outside dates. No sneaking off to do it in the back seats of cars. No tumbles in bed for either of us when I'm out of town. Just you and me. How does that sound?"
She looked into her husband's eyes, thinking for an instant that he might be serious. But he was smiling, letting her know that it was all in fun.
"It sounds pretty damn shitty to me," she said. "How does it sound to you?"
"Terrible," he confessed.
"But I do love you," she reiterated.
"I know you do."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Twenty minutes later, the Simmonses had showered and dressed. Carl was heading for the poker game at the Jones mansion.
He'd just kissed his wife good-bye and was standing in the doorway when the phone rang.
"I'll get it," he said. "It's probably for me."
He walked over to the phone stand and picked up the receiver. "Hello ... Yeah, you've got the right place ... What? ... When? ... Yes, we'll be there as soon as possible."
Carl had been unable to conceal the apprehension in his voice.
"What is it?" Sue demanded.
"You'd better sit down."
She shot him a questioning look, but she sat.
"It's Maggy," he explained. "She's in the hospital. She's been beaten up."
"What? How bad? Oh, God, how bad is it?"
"The cop I was talking to said it was serious, honey," he said gently, putting an arm around her shoulders. "But I'm sure she'll be all right. We'd better get to the hospital right away, though."
He escorted her out of the house, and she clung to his arm like a frightened child as he led her to the car.
"Did the police catch whoever did it?" Sue asked.
"No. That cop said they didn't know much about it yet."
"I'll have to call," Rick said, pushing two large stacks of chips into the center of the poker table. "There aces," Jones announced, showing his hand. "Sorry. I've got a flush!"
Rick was now dizzy with success. He'd won four grand on the last hand alone. All in all, he was thirty thousand ahead.
He showed Jones the five hearts, then smiled at Valerie, who still hung over his shoulder. "Stick around, baby," he said. "You bring me luck!"
Jones looked disgustedly at the woman. "Yeah," he growled. "She brings you luck, but I pay her salary. That doesn't seem right, somehow. Go get us some more drinks," he ordered her.
Obediently, Val left, then returned two minutes later with the alcoholic beverages. From time to time, Rick passed his glass behind him and Val sipped from it. The more they drank, the more attention they seemed to pay to each other, and the less attention they paid to the game.
The host was clearly annoyed by the fact that Rick was paying little attention to his cards, yet he continued to win.
The blonde, blue-eyed tart became more aggressive by the minute. As Rick raked in another seven thousand dollars, she reached boldly into his lap.
His rod stood up and took notice. She leaned down and whispered an invitation into his ear. He smiled at her, but made no move to accept. She became more and more giddy, and she giggled frequently.
Rick made a four-thousand-dollar bet and won again. He was fifty grand ahead now.
Val was no longer content to touch him through his trousers. Expertly, she undid his belt and his zipper.
"I think you better quit that," Rick cautioned, noting the pained expression on Jones' face. "This isn't exactly the right place to start making out." Although he was serious, there was a playful quality to his voice. He couldn't get mad, knowing he was fifty thousand ahead for the day.
God, he thought, wait till I tell Mag! Mag? His stomach fluttered uneasily as he remembered the unpleasant truth. After a moment's hesitation, he decided to call the hospital.
"Excuse me," he said, rising from his chair. "I've got a make a phone call."
Jones rose from his chair too and shook his head in bewilderment. "Yeah, I guess it's a good time to take a break. This game's getting on my nerves. Why don't you two have at each other for a half-hour or so?"
It sounded like a good idea to Rick. And Val was obviously pleased.
Rick's hands were quivering as he went upstairs with Val. There were three important things on his mind-excitement over the phenomenon of winning big, worry about Mag's physical condition, and lust, as he anticipated balling the hell out of the shapely miss who now clutched his hand.
"Where's the nearest phone?" he asked.
"Honey, can't your call wait?" she panted. "I'm so hot now,' I feel like I'm going to fly off the handle any second!"
"Can't wait," he stated firmly.
She led him to a phone. He dialed the hospital. The receptionist said that Mag had been admitted, but that there wasn't any official word on her condition. She asked if he was a relative. He hung up.
"What's the matter, hon? You look worried," Val said as he returned to the living room, where she was sitting, waiting for him to finish his call.
"Nothing," he said simply.
"You ready to hit the pillow?" she asked.
"Ready as I'll ever be." He sighed resignedly.
"You sure sound upset. Well, just let me fix that. By the time I'm through with you, you'll be out in orbit." She grabbed his hand and led him to the bedroom where earlier they had shared the same bed, but with different partners.
She wasted no time, and had his clothes off in a jiffy.
"You've got a flat!" she wailed. Then she smiled with inspiration, knelt beside the bed, and placed her lips gently on the tip of his rod. "I'll just have to blow you up," she reasoned. "That's the only way I know of to fix flats!"
She formed her lips into a large O, then engulfed his shaft. Just as she'd promised, she began to blow. It gave Rick a different sensation from being sucked, but he found it highly stimulating.
She closed her lips tightly and puffed until her cheeks swelled under the pressure of the unreleased air. While she blew, her tongue waggled against the tip of his rod. Within a minute, he was hard as rock.
"I knew I could blow you up," she giggled. "I used to be pretty good with air mattresses!"
"I'll bet you're pretty good on a mattress, too. Want to show me?"
She got off of her knees and climbed into the bed. "Do you want me to undress, or do you want me to leave some of my clothes on?"
"It's up to you," he said.
"I don't care. I know a lot of guys who'd rather have a woman partly dressed than naked. But personally, I think they're crazy."
"Me, too," he agreed, and assisted her in unbuttoning her blouse. Then he unhinged her bra and toyed tentatively with her boobs, while her luscious blue eyes shot sparks of blue flame at him.
She reached down and pulled her skirt off. Underneath, she wore a silk mini slip that clung to her legs. She did away with that while he continued to pinch and manipulate the buds on the ends of her boobs.
Her panties were next. Before slipping out of them, Val touched the crotch delicately and noticed the dampness that had seeped through the double-strength material.
Then, with one swift movement, she peeled the undies down her legs.
"You don't have to feel me up if you don't want to," she said. "I'm hot enough now to get right to the main course." She reached out and gripped his rod. "And I can tell that you're ready too."
"So what does that make you?" he wanted to know. "Sherlock Holmes?"
"Perry Mason, I think," she said, gripping him still more tightly.
He moved up between her legs, resting one hand on each of her knees and spreading her legs as far apart as they would go. She winced as he applied too much pressure so he eased off some.
"C'mon, take me!" she cried. "Jeez, you're the biggest damn stud I've seen in a year!"
"Who did you have a year ago?" Rick asked, touching a finger to the tip of his staff and testing his readiness.
"Some guy-God, you wouldn't believe it. He was half again as big as you are-down here. I mean!" She reached for his rod to show him where the other fellow was bigger. "We couldn't even get it in at first. We tried everything, vaseline, you name it. Finally we managed, but, lord, I was sore for the next two weeks!"
Rick didn't know whether or not she was just bullshitting him, but it didn't really matter. He was so aroused now that she could have gone on making up stories for the next six years, for all he cared. He had only one thing in mind-to plunge into the depths of her cunt, now!
"Hi, you two!" Enid's voice rang out from the doorway, just as Rick was thrusting. With that single thrust, Rick hit his mark admirably, and he and Val began moving so wildly during those first sensuous seconds of intercourse that neither bothered to answer Enid.
"May I join you?" the big Lesbian asked.
"Sure," Val grunted before Rick could object.
He was having a hell of a ball with just Val, so what the hell was he going to do with another broad on the same bed? he wondered. But he didn't worry excessively. He just kept pumping Val with short, jabbing strokes, and waited to see what would happen.
Val bit his earlobe and hissed. She mouthed no words, but her whistling gasps were distinctly sexy. Somewhere near the bed, Rick could hear scuffling sounds as Enid began removing her clothing.
He paid no attention. At the moment all his energies and feelings were concentrated on Val. He noted how feminine she looked, gazing upward with the most perfect set of blue eyes he'd ever seen.
Too bad she had to be butch, he thought. Otherwise she'd make some guy an ideal wife.
Ideal wife. The words clung to his mind. Maggy was by no means an ideal wife, yet she had satisfied him throughout their years of marriage. And, until recently, he'd loved her. Then he'd flown off his rocker tonight and knocked the shit out of her, hurting enough to send her to the hospital.
"Damn, damn, damn!" he said aloud as he worked on Val.
"What's the matter, lover?" she gasped. When he slowed his pace, she urged him on frantically. "Faster, faster. Oh, come on, stud!"
Then Enid climbed onto the bed, reached between the churning bodies, and grabbed one of Val's tits. She squeezed the globe hard. Val moaned.
Rick paid no attention to the bigger broad; he was too intent on mastering the wild chick beneath him.
But Val let Enid know she was happy the latter had joined them. She smiled into the larger woman's eyes and reached for her briar patch.
She fondled the bull dyke while getting her fill of Rick. It made for a wild couple of minutes, but then Rick couldn't hold himself back any longer. He forced his way to Val's depths and began to spasm.
Val moaned in disappointment. She'd been pretty near her climax when he'd hit his, but she hadn't made it. Nevertheless, she cradled him in both arms during his moment of greatest passion, making it as pleasurable for him as she could. She knew that she'd get her own needs taken care of, with or without him.
Sure enough, as soon as Rick separated from Val, Enid joined the blonde in a wild game of finger petting. Rick watched the show while dressing, but as soon as he'd buckled his belt and tied his shoes, he walked out of the room without looking back. The Lesbians were gasping and grunting, apparently unaware of his exit.
He phoned the hospital. There was still no word on Mag's condition.
He slammed the receiver down in disgust.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rick went in search of Jones. He found the older man in the living room, sipping slowly from a highball.
"Oh, hello, Rick. Did you lay the little wench?" Rick nodded.
"That's what I call a fine woman!" Jones praised. "The first time I set eyes on that one, I knew I had to persuade her to come live with me. And the first time I got into her-God! It was like riding a hurricane. I'll never forget it! Now Enid, that one's different. She's good-looking enough, in a strange way, but she's really a thorough going dyke. I only brought her along because she and Val were inseparable. To tell you the truth, I've never laid the bitch. You really surprised me when you got into her. I thought she'd refuse to be handled by a man."
"Ready for more poker?" Rick asked, abruptly changing the subject. He wanted to win as much as he could while his streak was still hot.
"Might as well," Jones said. "I gotta get it back some way. I figure your streak can't last forever."
They went downstairs.
For thirty minutes, only small sums changed hands. Then Rick won five thousand. There was another lull in the action, and for the next fifteen minutes, neither player called anything but very minimal bets.
Then lightning struck. Rick hit three kings, bet four thousand and was called. He drew two and added a pair of tens. Jones drew one.
Rick peered satisfactorily at his full house and bet ten thousand. Jones hesitated for a moment, then raised the pot forty thousand.
Rick gazed at the millionaire, scarcely believing his good fortune.
"That's all I have on the table," Rick announced, counting out the appropriate chips and raising his last eighty-five dollars, just to get all his chips in the pot.
"Well, what do you have?" Jones asked.
Rick placed his cards face-up and announced, "Full house."
"You know," Jones said, "this is the first one of these babies I've had in nearly two years." He laid his hand on the table.
A straight flush.
Rick's heart sank, his head began spinning, and sweat broke out all over his face. "You can't!" he screamed. He pounded the table with an angry fist again and again. "You can't win it all! Oh, God, no!"
He got up and leaned against the wall, sobbing. The nude blonde in the mural above his head seemed to be staring down at him with great compassion.
"Don't take it so hard," Jones said without leaving his seat. "After all, it's only money."
Rick broke into hysterical laughter. His cackling mingled with pathetic sobs. He turned from the wall and went toward the staircase, never turning to look back at Jones.
The older man had nothing to say as Rick went slowly upstairs, still laughing and sobbing alternately.
Enid and Val came out of the bedroom just as he reached the top of the stairs.
"Hey!" Val shouted after him as she saw him heading for the door. "What's the matter with you? Are you crying?" She ran over and tapped him on the shoulder.
Rick ignored her. Even when she ran in front of him and looked him in the eyes, he stared right through her. He reached the huge double doors and opened the one on his right.
He walked slowly into the fading, late-afternoon sun.
"Well, good-bye," Val called after him. "I hope it's not too serious, whatever happened. Are you sure you're all right?"
He continued toward his car without answering.
As soon as he reached a pay phone booth, he made another call to the hospital. This time, he learned that Mag was not in critical condition. The doctors had checked her out thoroughly and found no broken bones or serious complications. She had multiple bruises, he was told, but would be released from the hospital in the morning.
He informed the receptionist that he was Mag's husband, and asked to be connected with her room.
To Rick's surprise, Sue answered the phone.
"How is she?" he asked his sister-in-law.
"She's awfully beat up. Why did you do it, Ricky? Why?"'
"Can I talk to her?" he asked, evading Sue's question.
There was a blurred conversation as Sue blocked the mouthpiece with her hand. Ten seconds later, she said to Rick, "She doesn't want to talk to you. She wants me to tell you that it's all over."
Rick could tell Sue had been crying while she talked. Then, without another word, she hung up.
Twice more he tried to phone Mag at the hospital, but both times the receptionist refused to connect him, on orders from Mag herself.
He drove to the hospital, but he was refused admittance, again on Mag's say-so. Dejected and dizzy with the knowledge that his wife wouldn't see him, and bewildered by the fact that he'd almost won a hundred grand-yet left the Jones place empty-handed-he went to a bar and drank the hours away. Late in the night, he picked up a cheap broad and slept with her at a nearby motel. It was only a temporary respite from his mental agonies.
There was only one thing that could cure his troubles, he reasoned. If he could make a fortune at poker, Mag would realize that he was a winner. She could no longer call him a loser, and maybe she'd learn to love him again. His mind was sick with gambling fever as he fell asleep in the front seat of his car on a side street. In the morning, he'd decided, he would hit Carl for another loan.
"Don't even try to come in," Carl said, holding out a hand to keep Rick from coming through the doorway. "We don't have anything to say to you."
"Listen, Carl," Rick pleaded. "I'm sorry for what I did. But there's a way I can make it up to Maggy. Last night I nearly made a hundred grand. I would've, except I ran into bad luck on the last hand."
"Shit!" Carl swore. "You mean you've got the nerve to come here asking for another loan after last night? I oughta kill you. We wanted to turn you into the police, but Mag said, 'No, just leave it be. I'll say I had a fall or something. I just never want to see the bastard again. Let's drop it.' So we dropped it. But if it was up to me, I'd rake you over the coals, you son of a bitch!"
Carl's fury was glowing in his eyes when Sue came up behind him.
"Who is it? I heard you arguing. Oh, it's you! What the hell did you come here for? I don't want to have to look at you!" Then her anger turned to pity. "You poor man," she whispered. "You poor, demented person."
Carl glared at him once more, then retreated from the doorway, leaving his wife to confront Rick.
"Suzy," Rick pleaded desperately. "I was just telling Carl how sorry I was about last night. You see, if I could just have a little money, I could win enough to make it up to Mag. Maybe you could say something to Carl, huh? You could get a little loot for me, huh, Suzy?"
Tears began to flow down her cheeks.
"Remember what a good stud you thought I was?" Rick whispered softly, so that Carl wouldn't overhear. "We could get together a lot, Suzy. Every night, if you like. All I need's just enough to get me started. I feel like I'm on a lucky streak. I can sense it in my bones."
"Is that what you want, Ricky, a loan?"
He nodded.
"Well, why didn't you say so? You're such a good stud, I surely owe you that much!" She disappeared from the doorway and returned fifteen seconds later. Tears were still streaming down her cheeks.
She reached out toward him and stuffed a twenty-dollar bill into his shirt pocket.
Her voice was choked with emotion. "To show my appreciation for your stud services, I want you to take this money. It'll cover your bus fare out of town."
