IN HIS BOOK, THE SEXUAL REVOLUTION, BENJAMIN MORSE, M.D., POINTS OUT THAT MATE-swapping has become an uncommonly common practice in the U.S. "What wife-swapping amounts to," he writes, "is a sort of promiscuous concept of togetherness. By making extra-marital sex a function of the marital union, guilt is assuaged, deception is removed, and the marriage-shattering elements of infidelity are eliminated." The Barrys, Alene and Kirk, obviously had Dr. Morse's thoughts in mind when they took up with the Homers. But Alene decided to draw the line when she found she had no taste for girls. The reactions of Jack, Suzie, Ed and Mary were different in many ways!
1
WHEN PAUL HORNER BEGAN TO FEEL HIS WAY underneath her skirt, a single thought blazed in Alene Barry's mind:
Oh, how I'd love to have his prick inside me!
His marvelously exciting fingertips were crawling above her stockings, planting trails of fire on her smooth and sensitive thigh flesh.
"Don't Paul!" She cried. "Please don't!"
But her whole inner nature was screaming: Yes! Oh, yes! Please do it to me! I need it!
Paul perceived what her true feelings were, so naturally he paid no attention whatever to her words., And for the moment, at least, she didn't have the strength to push his hand down or to get off the green vinyl couch where she sat beside him.
His hand stroked higher on her legs as he murmured, "You're so lovely, Alene. I want you wildly!"
He twisted forward and bent to find her parted lips with his demanding mouth. Their lips clung, and a delirium-inducing suction was created as the imitation penis which was his tongue surged deeply into her mouth.
The force of his kiss pressed her head back against the sofa cushion, and his hand delvedbetween her burning thighs. It slid all the way up, forcing her thighs apart as he reached the moist and very warm strip of nylon which clung to the crevice between them.
While his tongue stroked liquidly in and out of her mouth, he made her moan with mindless delight as he petted her plushy softness through her silken pants.
Alene nearly went up in flames. She squirmed, opened her thighs, wider, and began to stroke her tongue ardently against his. Her warm, fast-pumping breath struck his cheek. He was surrounded by the delicate, intoxicating scent of her perfume. Her softness and warmth were marvelous.
He continued to stroke her panty crotch, through which moisture now seeped copiously, and Alene was transported into a state where she was already nude, on her back with her legs up, and Paul was hovering above her. She imagined that the stroking fingertips, which caressed her throbbing cunt through her pants, were not fingertips at all, and that she had no panties in the way.
What she felt was Paul's perfectly scrumptious prick, and he was pushing it against her naked pussy. Her pussy offered not the slightest resistence. In fact, its sultry lips flared eagerly, and Paul's hardness slid all the way into her, to her very depth, after which he began to stroke ... up and down, in and out, forcefully, steadily, pumping, humping, giving her greater and greater excitement.
Oh, God! she screamed in her mind. Screw me! Screw me!
Reality was rapidly catching up with imagination, or at least trying to.
Paul drew her elastic-anchored panty crotch aside and Alene felt his stroking fingers touch directly on the lips of her vagina, moving gently up and down on the plushy slit, not yet seeking entry but driving her wild by stimulating the very sensitive nerve endings which resided in the lips themselves. He ruffled her curling, slightly wiry pubic hairs.
Paul was a handsome man, thirty-five years old and married. He was her boss. She had been his secretary for six weeks, and during that entire time he had been trying to put the make on her. She had casually turned his suggestive remarks and out-right invitations aside. Evidently now he had reached the conclusion that words would accomplish nothing and that it was necessary to resort to direct action with the young and beautiful auburn-haired object of his lust.
There was reason to believe that direct action would accomplish a great deal. Look at Alene now:
She had slid forward on the vinyl couch and was rotating her pelvis gently against his audacious but so-delightful caresses. Her lovely legs yawned widely. Her skirt and slip were bunched in her lap, which revealed to Paul's impassioned gaze the symmetrical beauty of her smooth, flaring thighs, which were white and succulently inviting above the tightly gartered rims of her nylon hose. White garter straps traveled up those thighs and disappeared under the elastic hems of her pink briefs. But her briefs were pulled askew at their most strategic location and, as Paul momentarily leaned away from her kiss, he could see exactly what his hand was doing-playing in her auburn curls, petting her perfectly delightful little cunt.
He watched as his middle finger parted the plushy portals and slid all the way inside, finding the going very smooth and slick indeed. Oh, how she wanted him! She was so ready right now that he could drive his rod in there and sink it to the hilt.
To Alene, the feel of his finger inside her was at once rewarding and frustrating. It was rewarding in the sense that it made some of her most sensitive nerve endings quiver with delight, but it did not give her the sense of fullness that she craved. Only the real thing-would do that-a real man-sized cock.
She wondered how large Paul's cock was. Would it fill her little well to overflowing and give her a delightful sensation of contact at all points as he stroked it in and out?
She had to know-right now!
As she continued to lie back against the sofa with her eyes closed, her legs spread and her pelvis thrust forward, she reached blindly for the center of Paul's lap. Her hand nudged monumental hardness, inside his clothes.
Oh, there it was-his big stiff prick! Big? The thing felt positively gigantic! What a thrill to have that inside her!
Then suddenly something happened in Alene's mind which altered the course of the incident on the sofa. An inner voice told her vibrantly:
Adultery is a cardinal sin! You are married and he is married. This is wrong!
Her hands rose quickly to Paul's muscular chest and pushed, forcing him back from her and causing him to withdraw his hand from the delightful contact it had established at her fluffy loins. Her panties snapped back to place, and Alene pushed her skirt and slip down, covering the gorgeous display of stocking tops and garters and delicious smooth white flesh.
"Baby!" he exclaimed. "What's the matter? You want it as much as I do. You can't make me believe otherwise."
She was busily arranging her twisted clothes, then patting at her mussed hair as she fought inwardly to control her cravings. "Whether I want it or not has nothing to do with the matter. You and I are both married to other people, and that means this is wrong."
"Pardon me," Paul said, "but that's a lot of bullshit. What you and I do here, right now, won't hurt your husband or my wife. Neither of them will ever know."
"I'll know and you'll know," Alene argued. "That's enough."
She stood on unsteady legs.
The office was closed for the day. Paul had asked her to remain in order to get out some last-minute letters. When she had stepped into his private office to take the dictation, he had asked her to sit down on the couch, saying he wanted to talk with her. She sat, he sat beside her, and that was how it began.
Now the husky, well-groomed man with the deceptively bland face looked up at her. "You're not being fair to yourself, Alene. If your marriage was completely satisfactory, you wouldn't have responded to me the way you did a little while ago. You're entitled to happiness. Everyone is. With a gorgeous body like yours, you should have no trouble getting all the sexual satisfaction you need. I can give it to you, Alene. I can give it to you good!"
She had no doubt about that. And it was true her marital life wasn't what it ought to be. But still, there were the vows she and Kirk had taken. He had lived up to his, as far as she knew, and she was determined to live up to hers. She would have trouble living with herself if she didn't.
"Since I presume you didn't really have any work for me to do, "she said, deliberately failing to respond to his last speech, "I'm going home."
He stood up. But now the swelling in the front of his pants had subsided. "I'll drive you," he offered. "We can stop on the way for a drink and talk things over."
"There's nothing to talk about. I'll be in tomorrow at the usual time, and both of us will forget that this ever happened."-
"Alene, you can't mean that!"
"I do, Paul. I most certainly do."
"Well, at least let me drive you home."
"No, thanks. I'd prefer to take the bus."
He touched her arm and turned her gently to face him. "Don't be angry with me, and don't blame yourself. This was something that had to happen. It's going to happen again. We could no more stop it than we could keep the world from turning."
She forced a smile. "That's very melodramatic, Paul. You should be writing soap operas for television."
He merely gazed at her.
"Good night." She turned and walked out of his private office, her lovely buttocks twisting in the close-fitting skirt she wore. Her lush legs gleamed dully as they scissored.
Jesus Christ, Paul thought, what a piece! Somehow, I've got to lay her.
Alene was twenty-two years old, average in height, and constructed in such a way that she could easily have found work as a photographer's model.
But she wasn't interested in that sort of thing. She had no desire to be the center of attraction. She just wanted to have a happy life with a husband who loved her, and children and a pleasant home.
That didn't seem as if it was too much to ask, but somehow everything had gone wrong. She had a husband, and perhaps he did love her in his way, but he was coarse and cruel and he gave no thought to her satisfaction when they were in bed. Also, and perhaps most distressing of all, his sexual apparatus looked like it belonged on a midget.
It wasn't as if Alene had nothing to compare him with. She had played around before she met him, starting from the time she was fourteen. She remembered a talk she'd had with her mother one afternoon in the kitchen of their modest home, shortly after she had begun to menstruate. Her mother had said:
"Playin' around with boys ain't such a sin, Allie. I reckon you gotta have a certain amount of that in order to find out what life's all about. But the thing to remember is ... once you meet the man you wanta marry, don't give nothin' to him until after you're married, and then you stay married to him for the rest of your life! There ain't nothin' worse than a busted marriage with kids who don't have a proper home. Even if you got no kids, it goes against the scriptures to bust up. You gotta stay with your man for the rest of your life, and you can't cheat on him with anyone else. Fornication's natural, but adultery's wrong. It's almost as bad as divorce."
Alene had this philosophy drilled into her during the succeeding months until she believed it was the only way to live. Her mother and father had been married for eighteen years and seemed happy. They made a good home for her and her two brothers. The family went to church every Sunday.
If there was a conflict between the church's teaching on fornication and her mother's, Alene didn't detect it. The preacher talked a lot about sin, but it was always in general terms. He never came right out and said it was wrong for a young unmarried girl to let herself get screwed by a boy in his automobile.
The thing that really worried Alene about sex was the risk of having a baby. She asked her mother about that.
"When there's a boy you wanta give it to," was the reply, "you make dang sure that boy's got himself a rubber."
"What's a rubber, Mama?"
"It's like a thin rubber stocking the boy wears on his thing. That's so when he's inside you and he goes off, it catches the stuff he shoots out and it can't make you pregnant."
"Do most boys have them?" young Alene asked.
"If they don't, they can get 'em in any drug store. Now, Allie, I don't want you to think, because I'm tellin' you all this, that it's all right for you to go out with a boy you really like and he's good to you, and. he's not the sort to blab all over the place, you can give in to him if you want. But be sure he's got a rubber on. That's important. After you get broke in, I can take you to a doctor and get you fitted with a diaphragm. Then you'll be able to take care of yourself."
Her mother's broad-mindedness stemmed from the fact that she had been a carnival dancer when she was young and had knocked around a great deal before She met Alene's father. She had never felt her experiences had hurt her or that they were particularly wrong, and she was too inherently honest to advise her daughter against doing what she had done, had enjoyed and had not regretted.
Alene's first sex experiences consisted of petting and nothing more. This was partially due to the restraint she was trying to practice, in observance of her mother's advice, but mostly due to the lack of confidence of the boys she went out with. They had the urge to go all the way with her, but they weren't too sure how to go about it or whether they would succeed, so they merely played around, feeling her titties through her clothes and kissing and getting their hands a little way up underneath her skirt, after which they went home and jerked off their passion in their solitary beds.
Alene offered a tremendous lure, even before she reached the mid-teen mark. Her breasts had sprouted delightfully to become a pair of full, firm young melons, standing enticingly erect. Her waist was slim, her hips and thighs very feminine, her legs long and sleek. Her hair had a little natural wave to it and its color was a rich lustrous brown, verging toward red.
It was not in the nature of things that Alene, with her physical endowments and the philosophy her mother had given her to live by, should remain a virgin for long. She had just turned fifteen when a boy who was a year-and-a-half older initiated her into womanhood.
His name was Don Lake, and he looked like a cross between Troy Donahue and Richard Chamberlain (younger versions, of course).
When he had her alone in his car on their second date, and he inserted his tongue in her mouth, Alene immediately thought about the insertion of a penis down below. When he began petting her clothed breasts, she wanted him to strip her blouse and bra away and to bare those yearning tits. They swelled and burned with excitement, her well-developed nipples itching to be pulled deep into a sucking mouth.
Don dropped a hand to her lap, and her sexual center responded with such a surge of desire that it was all she could do to keep from asking him to get underneath her skirt and pull down her panties. But a girl couldn't just come out and do that, no matter how she felt.
Alene's feelings were not entirely unmixed, either. She, of course, was unsure what sexual intercourse would be like, and she was fearful of the pain which she knew would precede any pleasure she might feel. Also, there was the big question of whether or not Don was equipped for the job. Not bodily, but with respect to birth control. Letting herself get knocked up would be the world's worst disaster.
Don forged ahead, and his deft, insistent handling tended to resolve most of the uncertainty in her mind. Also, the stage around them had been perfectly set for her seduction: There was a large full moon of burnished orange, a gentle warm breeze wafting the leaves of the tree under which they were parked, and she and Don were completely isolated from the rest of the world.
His kisses shot her through and through with needles of delight. As he began to open her clothes, her desire mounted to breathtaking pitch. This, was the night; this was the time. She was going to let herself be had!
She melted deeper into his arms, and her parted lips took his kisses hungrily, sucking at the demanding tongue which stroked deeper and deeper into her mouth. She whimpered in the agony of desire. Her eager tongue stirred against his.
Don opened her light blouse all the way, then immediately went for the hooks on her bra. She didn't so much as lift a finger to stop him. She wanted him to take her bra off and play with her naked titties, the way she often did when she was alone in her room.
He got the bra unhooked, then lifted the cups up and off her glorious mounds. First his big strong hands covered them and rolled and squeezed even as he continued to kiss her, but then he had to see-what he was doing, so he backed up and both of them looked down at the entrancing spectacle of his large football-passing hands on her youthfully taut and roundly thrusting breasts-so smooth and white except for the corrugated reddish discs at their crests and the tall thick studs which marked the exact centers of the disks and were redder still.
Don trapped a nipple between his thumb and index finger and rolled it gently, tugging a little as he did so. Voluptuous sensations screamed through Alene's eager young body. Her panties were becoming sopped.
She looked down, watching Don's hand in the moonlight through passion-misted eyes as it worked over her thrusting, resilient bosom, and all in the world that she wanted to do was to lie on her back and open herself completely to this marvelous male.
It was easy for Don to work his hand between her legs and slide it all the way up between her burning thighs. When he stroked her through the crotch of her panties, she nearly went out of her skull. She scooted forward, letting her eyes fall closed, and she thrilled to his suctioning kisses on her heaving breasts as his eager fingers plucked her panty crotch away. She heard herself moaning as she writhed in passionate transport, and her mind was filled with visions of Don atop her, preparing to sink the sword of his manhood into her sexual heart.
Alene had never seen a penis in the aroused state, but on several occasions she had accidentally glimpsed her Older brothers' weenies when they were relaxed. A daring and experienced girl friend at school had given her a vivid description of what the rigid penis was "like, calling it by the rather scary name of "prick". This had stuck in her mind, giving rise to all .sorts of analogies about needles and swords and lances.
By now she was eager to feel the thrust of that awesome implement. It couldn't be too bad, she reasoned, because women all over the world got themselves skewered by it and seemed none the worse for the experience. In fact, she had been led to believe, by the same girl who had suggested the lance analogy, that it felt wonderful when the thing was inside a girl.
Don's fingers on her vagina sent blazing messages to her brain. She reached out blindly, groping for the crotch of his slacks.
Wow! There was nothing slack about them at the moment. His prick was so big and full and hard that it crowded his clothes almost to the bursting point. How it wanted to get inside her! She also wanted it inside.
She had to have it now!
Her girlish fingers fumbled at the top of Don's fly, attempting to gain a grip on his zipper tab. This, together with the flowing condition of her hot little cunt, convinced Don that there was no reason to wait a minute longer.
He said huskily, "Let's get into the back seat."
Suddenly she thought of her mother's admonition about a rubber.
"Do you have something to use?" she panted. "I don't want a baby."
"Silly kid," he chuckled. "Of course. I'll use a rubber."
Ahhh.
She got into the back seat with him and he pulled her skirt and slip all the way up, rumpling them about her waist. She wore no stockings. All she had on now, below the waist, was a pair of pink rayon briefs.
Don made short work of those. His masterful grip tightened around the thin elastic at their top and he pulled the pants inside-out as he drew them down. He saw her beautiful little white belly with its cute depressed navel and then, as he pulled farther, her triangular-shaped patch of auburn curls came into view. Alene lifted her buttocks and twisted, so he could pull her panties out from under them. Now the panties gave up their moist embrace of her virginal vagina, and Don pulled them along her thighs, past her writhing knees, down her calves and off over her feet, knocking away her flat-heeled shoes in the process.
She opened her legs wide to him, propping one along the top of the seat-back and the other on the car's floor.
Oh, golly ... oh, gee! she thought as Don gazed at the feminine beauty which was thus blatantly displayed. He's looking at my cunt! (This was another of her experienced girl friend's words.) I'm so open, he can probably see the pink inside. (Alene had examined herself this way in front of a mirror many times.)
He loosened his own clothes, but she didn't look. She was a little afraid to do so.
"Don't forget the rubber," she said in a voice that was passion-choked.
"Here," he said, and showed the rolled condom to her.
She had never seen one before, but she presumed this was the right thing he was showing her.
There was a short delay while he put it on, and then he scrambled to an awkward position above her yearning young body. She could hardly wait to feel his turgid maleness pushing for entry into her cunt, gaining it, and sliding all the way inside her to fill her up.
He "was husky and she felt a little discomfort when he lowered himself against her, but that was forgotten when his hard shaft bumped her between the legs. She murmured something incoherent. Oh, how she wanted it!
He leaned on one elbow and used his other hand to guide his penis. She let out a cry of anticipation when she felt the tip of it sliding up and down between her open outer lips. Then he found the place where entry could be made. Positioning himself exactly right, he removed his hand from between them.
"Be gentle," she moaned.
"Yeah, baby," he growled.
He began to push.
She felt discomfort, then a little pain. He pushed harder. The pain suddenly became intense, and she cried, "No ... no!"
But he said, "It's all right," and kept pushing, kept hurting her. She keened sharply, then felt her hymen burst, and the bulk of him was sliding in-all the way in and up. There was no more pain. She was only sore at her entrance, but the sensation of pleasure she derived from having his big prick way up in there more than made up for it. Man, it was the greatest thing she had ever felt!
"Honey!" she cried. "Oh, Don, that's wonderful!"
"Sure it is, baby," he panted, and proceeded to make the most of the position he occupied.
Even though they were awkwardly cramped and Alene didn't know how to move, the experience was magnificent for her. The thrilling jabs which Don gave her titillated her love tip beyond the point of endurance and she came, tightening and seeming to explode inside as Don humped and humped and finally came himself, jerking as he held his penis deep.
Alene thought she was going to pass out, it felt so good. Waves of warmth continued to wash over her, seeming to set her very consciousness adrift.
Oh, this was the greatest! She wanted to do it again and again.
She did, with several boys in high school and even more when she went to State University. By the time she was graduated, she'd had experience with more males than most women know throughout a lifetime.
When she was on her first job, she met Kirk.
He was an up-and-coming salesman for the firm. He was big, red-haired and handsome, and everyone said he was destined to be sales manager someday. He hadn't had much formal education, but he had a brash, beguiling charm, and Alene fell for him hard.
When he asked her for a date, she eagerly accepted, but she rejected his attempts to maneuver her into bed. He was the sort of man she wanted to marry-the very man, she believed-and she remembered her mother's advice about not putting out to a prospective husband. This made sense in the light of her own experiences, too, though she dearly wanted to roll onto her back for him.
Kirk wanted her so strongly that he proposed. It was love, she believed, and she accepted his marriage offer.
They flew to Las Vegas.
2
THE WEDDING NIGHT WAS A DISASTER.
After their quick marriage ceremony, he rushed her to the hotel room, and she was to find out that Rush was Kirk's middle name.
He had two middle names, actually. One was Rush and the other was Tiny. That made for a deadly combination.
Of course, the initial rushing wasn't so bad. Alene was as eager as he to begin the consummation of their marriage.
She thrilled as he hurriedly picked the clothes off her as they stood in the lighted bedroom, next to the bed they would share. He tossed the top of her two-piece dress away, then worked her skirt and slip down together. This left her in white lacy panties, garter belt, stockings, and a lace-encrusted white bra. She looked a little like a wedding cake, just waiting for him to slice into.
"Jesus, baby," he husked, "you don't know how I've looked forward to this!"
"So have I, darling!"
He quickly opened her bra and pulled it away, spilling her luscious breasts. They hardly dropped at all. They were almost as taut and erect now as they had been when she was fifteen years old, and they had a little added fullness which maturity had brought to them. Her large nipples were up, projecting a good three-quarters of an inch from the crinkly round bases on which they sat. It was a vision of rare delight, and Kirk reacted by exclaiming:
"Goddamn, what a pair of tits!"
She was a little taken aback. During her considerable career of playing around before she met Kirk, boys and men had talked to her that way on occasion. In fact, they had used all the "hot" words with her at one time or another, and she had used most of them when she was heated up. But it was rather shocking to think of a new husband talking to his bride this way on their wedding night. This was a time for tenderness and mutual professions of love, not the coarse talk of a couple just out for kicks.
But Kirk was a coarse man. Her love for him had blinded her to this fact until now.
She smiled and blushed slightly as he gathered her chest treasures in his hands, pressing them upward and wiggling them around. He pulled at her tingling nipples.
"Oh, mama, they're tight jobs!" he said. "I knew, just from lookin' at you with your clothes on, that they'd be good. Even the best bra can only do so much."
Alene closed her eyes and murmured, "Take off the rest of my clothes, darling. I want to lie down on the bed."
"Boy, do you think I don't?" He chuckled and hooked his thumbs over the top of her lacy white pants.
He pushed her panties down to the point where gravity would carry them the rest of the way, and he left them circling her ankles while he brought an open hand up the dividing line between her thighs and cupped her furry mound.
Pulsations of heat coursed through her. Her legs weakened. When Kirk protruded his middle finger and split her softness with it, bringing it up into her still partially dry love chamber, she knew two emotions: Sensual excitement and shock.
Again she felt this was no way for a groom to treat his bride, fingering her, pussy while she was still on her feet, as if she were some two-bit whore.
Kirk panted as he jerked his finger in and out. "Oh, what a great little hole!" he exclaimed.
She had to say, "It's not a hole, darling. It's my vagina, my vessel of love."
"Sure ... sure." He laughed boisterously. "But it's a dandy hole, just the same. Jesus, I can hardly wait to get my joy stick in there!"
"I want to lie down," Alene told him. "Take my panties off, will you?"
"Sure."
He dropped to one knee and she braced herself on his shoulder as she stepped out of the lacy silk pants. He tossed them carelessly aside.
Now he ran his hands up the backs of her legs, along her snug stockings, then off them and onto her warm, smooth skin ... up farther to cup and squeeze the perfectly shaped cheeks of her bottom.
"Hey, you're firm as the dickens!" he said as he got to his feet. "I like that! If there's anything I hate, it's abroad with a lard ass."
He laughed and gave her a healthy spank across both buttocks, making a sound as sharp as a pistol crack and causing her bottom to quiver all over.
"I'm not a broad," Alene protested a bit angrily.
"'Course you're not, baby," he purred. "That's why I married you. Come on. Lie down now so I can get out of my duds."
She lay down on the bed, keeping her thighs fairly close together and elevating one knee slightly. Her breasts stood high, with the red sentinels of her nipples posted proudly atop them. The forested mound at the juncture of her thighs and belly was attractive in the extreme, furnishing exciting contrast to the overall creamy whiteness of her skin.
Kirk hurriedly divested himself of his clothes, gazing at her all the time. Alene watched him through half-lidded eyes. She had noted that the hump at the front of his trousers was not large, but she had concluded he most-likely was wearing a snugly constrictive pair of jockey briefs.
Now he tossed his shirt away and yanked open his belt. He lowered his fly and dropped his trousers.
Yes, his underwear was jockey style and it was snug. Still, she could not help but perceive that it wasn't as crowded as the pouches of other jockey shorts she had seen.
When he finally whisked his underwear down, her apprehension was confirmed. His penis snapped outward to a length of no more than five inches, at the most. She would have guessed it was closer to four and a half.
She had been screwed by stubby dongs that were thoroughly satisfying because of their thickness, but Kirk's was not only short, it was slender, too. It was small all over-stunted, almost.
He didn't seem to realize it or, if he did, he didn't care. He grinned at her as if he was quite proud of himself and strode firmly to the bed, his upright little dick quivering.
Well, perhaps a small one wouldn't be so bad, she thought. It was possible that the appeal of large size was mostly psychological. After all, when her channel was unoccupied it collapsed against itself. Perhaps a rod of this dimension would provide as snug a fit as any other.
Alene smiled up at her new husband as he got down onto the bed beside her. She had suppressed the resentment she'd felt before. Now she could see only the man she'd fallen in love-with-the man with.-whom she had decided to spend the rest of her life.
Kirk pulled her into his arms and gave her a scorching kiss as his fingers sought the treasure of her womanhood and pried the plushy box open. Again-he started stroking his rigid middle finger in and out. This excited Alene, though she would have preferred that he approach her for the first time a bit more delicately, with some sense of respect if not reverence.
"How's that feel, baby?" he breathed heatedly against her ear. "Pretty good, huh?" He stroked more vigorously.
"Yes. Very good." Her fluttering hand found his small, hard staff.
He certainly was hard enough, but it seemed strange to hold one that was so tiny. She stroked it gently up and down.
"Oh, wow, that's too good!" he protested. "Keep pumpin' it that way and I'm gonna come by myself."
She quickly removed her hand, murmuring, "We wouldn't want that, would we?"
He shifted his position, sliding his moist open mouth down over her neck and onto a trembling wobbling hill of boob-flesh. Alene arched herself, thrusting the breast up as Kirk gathered in its standing, rubbery tip. He sucked on it and blissful thrills raced through her. This was good! This was very, very good!
Kirk's strong hand worked the other breast, its nipple scratching his palm as he sucked. Now he switched tips, gathering the other one on his tongue and compressing his lips around it as he plucked at the first.
The crest of a tit was the second most pleasurable place where a man could apply his mouth to her body, and Alene enjoyed it immensely while anticipating hopefully that Kirk would kiss her at the best place of all in a minute or so.
She squirmed gently beneath his kissing and parted her hungry legs wide. Her loins were sopped with love moisture. Little tremors passed through the sensitive nerves at the orifice of her vagina. She was aware of spasmodic contractions in the muscles.
She was calling to him. Her body was saying, come on and kiss me, get in with your tongue and then with the fullness of your manhood. I need you!
But things did not work out as she wanted. She received him, all right, but too abruptly, as he had been too abrupt about everything else. He didn't so much as even kiss her belly. No sooner had he pulled his lips off her gleaming, throbbing nipple than he swung atop her and, without a moment's hesitation, ran his small, very stiff rod into her molten, yearning depths.
He started moving up and down quickly.
"Honey!" she cried, gripping him at the sides, pushing. "Not so fast! God! I'm not ready!"
"What the hell!" he rasped. "You're drippin' for it!"
And he proceeded to lunge in and out rapidly, his hips pumping for all they were worth. He had placed himself squarely in her center and this meant, small as he was, that he was not rubbing her love button the way it had to be rubbed in order for her to gain the maximum pleasure.
Suddenly he pulled up short, drove in and twitched, his hot fluid spurting.
"No! Noooh!" Alene cried.
But it was too late, of course. Kirk was through, and she was left painfully hung up.
"What's the matter?" he asked, pushing up on his arms. "Didn't you make it?"
"No, darling, I didn't."
He grinned. "You're kinda slow, huh?"
She struggled to maintain her composure and to radiate love toward him, though she felt something less than loving at the moment. "I don't think I'm especially slow," she said. "Any woman has to be brought along slowly. The excitement has to have time to build."
He pulled out of her and wheeled to a sitting position at her side. He glared at her beautiful face. "What are you saying, that I don't know how to screw?"
"Kirk! Darling! You were just too excited, that's all. You wanted me too much. Next time you should try to hold back a little. Kiss me more. You know."
"Hey, you're not one of those girls who expects a guy to go down on her, are you? The reason I say it, you're real pretty, and I've known real pretty dolls who expect that. But, baby, you may as well know right now that I don't gobble the goop for nobody!"
Alene, in her miserably frustrated state, reacted to this harsh slap in the face by releasing her own dammed up anger.
"How dare you!" she said. "You make everything sound cheap and vile. It isn't that way. If a man loves a woman, he'll naturally want to kiss her, and he'll certainly make it a point to see that she gains as much satisfaction from the sex act as he does."
"So you're saying I don't love you, huh?" He jumped to his feet.
"Well, I don't know!" She sat up. "Right now I wonder."
"Okay. Keep wondering, baby. I'm going out. Maybe I can pick up a broad on the street who has a little more appreciation for a straight guy!"
He hurriedly got into his clothes, not looking at her, and out he went. On their wedding night!
Alene was deeply shocked' and hurt, and she regretted her hasty marriage to him. They weren't suited to one another temperamentally. She should have seen that. And as for the physical part ... that was a ridiculous mis-match. Kirk needed a woman with a snatch the size of a buttonhole if he was going to satisfy her. Yes, and with a mighty fast-winding spring, too!
But even though she saw the marriage was all wrong, she didn't do the logical thing and walk out on him. They were married, and one of the strongest precepts she had carried into adulthood was that marriage was forever. Both her mother's teaching and her religion told her that. Somehow she and Kirk would have to make their adjustment.
Shen he returned to the hotel room later in the evening and apologized for walking out as he had, she forgave him. He assured her he had only gone to a bar and had a couple of drinks; he hadn't so much as spoken .to another woman.
She believed that because the moment they were in bed together and she began to fondle him, his sexing tool sprang to rigid attention. Would he perform any better this time, she wondered, or would he repeat the mistakes he had made before?
He didn't kiss her body below the breasts. That apparently was asking too much. But he did take lots of time sucking and chewing at her passion-swollen nipples and, after he mounted her, he moved more slowly than he had the first time.
She managed to wiggle lower on the bed so that his thin rod applied stimulation to her clit as he stroked in and out. He held himself under fair control and Alene rose to a peak of excitement with him.
Her hips hopped happily beneath his, surging up to meet each of his thrusts and to embed his shaft as deeply as possible in her crevice. It was deep enough, and he was rubbing her all right.
She got close to the finish and screamed, "Now, darling, now!"
In her experience, most men were good for at least fifteen seconds of rapid thrusting during the final phase of the act, and that would have been enough to have given her a delicious climax, rounded off well.
Kirk was good for only five seconds' worth of short swift strokes. She was balanced precariously on the edge of coming, her fingernails digging into his back and her face contorted, when his whole body went stiff and he spurted into her.
She sobbed and circled her throbbing vagina around him, grinding upward with all her might. Her hair rubbed his harshly.
She screamed, "Screw ... screw!" and he gave her one last short flurry of motion that was barely enough to trip her switch and send her into quivering convulsions of release.
The orgasm wasn't very deep or full, but she was grateful for small favors at that point, so she hugged her new husband and kissed him all over the cheeks.
"You made it?" he asked, breathing a little hard.
"Yes, darling! Oh, I love you!"
"And I love you, baby!"
Perhaps there was hope for them after all, she believed.
Kirk did improve as time went on, but his performance as a stud was spotty. Sometimes he would take a fair amount of time with her beforehand and draw out the actual intercourse sufficiently so that she gained an adequate if not sensational release.
However, more often than not, he would be too eager to get in and too quick to finish once he started pumping.
When she didn't reach a climax, he would say something like, "Sorry, baby, I just had to let go. I've had a bitch of a day, and I was wound tighter than a watch spring. I'll do better next time."
Sometimes he would and sometimes he wouldn't. Meanwhile, Alene remained hung on a peg of frustration.
She had tried satisfying herself by hand, but that left a bad taste and, anyway, it wasn't truly gratifying. She had to have a strong prick, properly applied for a sufficiently long period, in order to feel really good and, all too often, Kirk failed to deliver.
In other respects, also, their marriage was far from ideal. Kirk drank too much, He lost his good job and was out of work for several weeks before he could land another. That was why she had found it necessary to go back to work.
They had been married now for nearly a year, but neither of them felt it was time to begin having children.
Secretly Alene wondered if it ever would be. Kirk was not too stable and certainly not the good provider she had thought she was marrying.
All in all, the marriage lacked a great deal, but they still loved each other in their way.
Kirk needed her. He had to have his ego bolstered at regular intervals. He had to have someone who was stronger than he to turn to when the going got rough. Alene enjoyed the feeling of being needed.' But, with it all, there was lingering discontent.
Why couldn't he be a little stronger, a little more adequate in bed, a little more reliable as a provider? How were, they ever going to have a really secure home so that they could bring up children?
Well, they were both young yet. She was just twenty-two and he was only twenty-seven. They had time. Approaching the thirties settled a man, she had heard. He was apt to take a new look at himself and the progress he had made in life and, if it was not sufficient to please him, he would buckle down with greater determination. Or so she understood.
She would still be young enough then to start having her family.
She had no thought in the world of leaving Kirk. Marriage was for keeps in her book. And as for playing with another man on the side, that was out too. She had never had cause to doubt Kirk's faithfulness, and he had the right to expect equal fidelity from her. The fact was that she wanted them to be faithful to each other forever. That was what marriage meant, essentially.
But she lived on the ragged edge of frustration most of the time. There were occasions when she dampened her panties at the mere sight of a handsome man.
And this afternoon, when her boss had swarmed all over her on the couch in his office, had gotten up underneath her skirt and petted her directly on the pussy, she had been so transported by lust that she had almost given in. She had come within a hair's breadth of it.
Paul knew what her problem was, and that made it worse. He wouldn't let up on her now. That meant she would probably have to quit her job unless she decided to give in to him. And she couldn't do that. She absolutely couldn't!
As she stood at the bus stop, waiting amid a crowd of other passengers, her glance kept moving to a young man who stood alone, reading a newspaper. He was tall and very good-looking. He apparently hadn't noticed her at all, but she was having an imaginary affair with him.
Her mind constructed a fantasy involving this man and herself. She was on her back, nude, and he was approaching her with his magic wand uplifted. When he drew close, she reached out and touched it. Its fiery head seemed to burn her fingers, but she didn't let go. On the contrary, she clutched his rigid shaft with both hands and guided him close to her head. She lay on her cheek at the edge of the mattress, and now she propped herself up on an elbow and drew his beautiful rosy-headed prick to her lips ...
Oh, God!
Her pussy was salivating. So, in fact, was her mouth.
What was to become of her? What in heaven's name could she do?
3
LATE THAT AFTERNOON, AS SOON AS HER BOSS had asked her to work late and she had agreed to do so, she had telephoned her husband's office, hoping to catch him before he left.
It was regular practice for him to come in from the territory late each day to report his sales and turn in the orders. This process took a half-hour or so and, during that time, he occupied a desk. Except for another half-hour at the beginning of each day, when he lined up appointments and took care of odds and ends, he was in the field all the time.
Luckily Alene had reached him. She had told him she would be late getting home.
"How late?" he had asked.
"Oh, maybe an hour. Maybe longer. I'm not sure."
"Well, honey, look ... why don't I grab something to eat near the office? There's a sales meeting tonight, and I really ought to go. You can eat dinner out too." He chuckled, "It'll give you a little break from the old frying pan routine."
"All right, Kirk."
"Hey, I've got an idea. While you're at it, why don't you take in a movie? I won't be home until ten-thirty or eleven, and there's no sense in your sitting around the apartment by yourself."
"You wouldn't mind?"
"Hell, no. You've got it coming. We haven't gone anywhere for a while. You enjoy yourself."
"Maybe I'll do that,"
He hesitated. "Just maybe."
"I will, then."
"That's the way! I'm going to be upset if you change your mind."
She laughed a little. "All right, honey. I'll do it. I may be home later than you, though, if the movie runs long."
"Don't worry about it. Take all the time you want. I'll grab a couple of drinks with the guys."
"See you later, then."
"Yeah. Now remember ... you do what I said."
"I will."
"For sure?"
"Yes! For heaven's sake, Kirk," she laughed. "Anybody would think you want to get rid of me this evening."
"Now, baby, you know better than that. But I won't be home anyway, and I want you to have a good time." He lowered his voice. "I'll spank your pretty ass for you if you change your mind. And I mean hard!"
She laughed again. "Good-bye!"
She hung up, feeling warm and complimented over the fact that he wanted her to enjoy herself. He wasn't usually so considerate.
However, after what had happened with her boss, she didn't feel like going to a movie. She didn't even feel like eating out. She wanted only to go home to the apartment and nurse her frustration in silence.
There was no point in trying to reach Kirk by phone in order to tell him. He would be out somewhere. Anyway, he had to go to the sales meeting. He was on shaky ground with his company as it was, and if he didn't attend it would be another black mark against him.
The bus arrived and Alene got on it. She would be home in fifteen minutes.
In the Barrys' small apartment, on the fifteenth floor of a massive new high-rise, Kirk was holding a giddy blonde with an arm about her waist while with the other hand he was caressing her high-pointed boobs through her clothes.
"Ohhh, honey, you're making me hot!" she exclaimed thickly. v
"The better to bed you, my proud beauty," Kirk burlesqued and gave a villainous laugh. Then his attitude changed abruptly.
"Jesus, Helen, you've got a great pair of titties here!" He squeezed one. "Let's get these clothes off 'em, what do you say?"
"Are you sure it's safe?" she asked, blinking her rather bleary blue eyes. "Don't you think your wife might come home early?"
"Shit, no!" he exclaimed drunkenly. "I told you-she's having a night out for herself. It's good for a wife every once in a while to have a night out. And it's damned good for a husband too. Huh?" He laughed and popped the blonde on her girdled fanny.
"Mmmmmm ... honey!" She pressed her lower region against him and lowered her blue-shadowed eyelids as she raised her mouth for a kiss.
Kirk looked down at the parted moist pink lips, then swooped and took them, jamming his tongue into her mouth all the way. She moved her lips against it, sucking noisily as he pistoned it in and out.
His rod pressed vigorously against her.
Helen Talmadge was a girl who worked in his office and whom he had been wanting to make for some time. But since she had to be on duty from nine to five, there was no possibility of taking her to a motel in the daytime, as he did with various girls he knew who were not so tied down. Usually he had to be home in the evenings or Alene would become suspicious. But tonight, thanks to the clever way he had set things up, he was going to have Helen and without even the expense of a motel room.
He had bought her a pair of double martinis, and afterward he would buy her a cheap meal. That would be it. Well, that was all a cheap cunt like her rated. She had been screwed by every stud in the office except him, and it was only right that he should have his turn.
As he kissed her, his hands searched up and down her back. Because of the tight girdle she wore, he wasn't able to derive much pleasure from fondling her rear end. He tickled the tops of her thighs through her skirt, below the edges of her panty girdle, and this gave both of them a boost up the passion ladder.
Now he pushed her back from him, terminating the kiss. "Come on, baby, let's go in the bedroom."
She smiled warmly. "You're nice'n ready, I can feel that." She dropped her hand to the hump in his pants. "Oh, let's hurry up and let him out!"
"That's what I'm saying." He turned her and gave her a little push toward the bedroom door.
"Don't be rough!" she protested, throwing him a pout over her shoulder as they walked along.
"Go on. You like it rough. I can tell. You're a girl who-likes to be screwed hard and fast. Don't tell me different."
"Well ... " she said, positioning herself beside the bed and lifting her hands to begin unbuttoning her dress top, "I like to be screwed, all right, but I don't know about that hard and fast part. Today I feel as if I could take the long, slow treatment,"
"You'll take it the way I dish it out," he grinned, throwing his jacket off. "Just what do you think I'm running here, a custom shop?"
"Ohhh, honey!" she laughed gratingly. "You're such a comedian!"
He pulled off his tie. "You know, that's one of the things that bugs me about my friggin' wife. Just one of 'em, mind you. She tells me how she wants to be laid and she expects me to deliver just that way every time."
"Does she?" Helen giggled again and stepped out of her skirt.
"But I cross her up every once in a while and give her merry hell. She says she don't get there, but that's a lotta bullshit. I never believed it for a minute. She just-likes a man to fuss over her, that's all."
He stepped out of his pants. He wore jockey shorts and the front of them was noticeably out of shape.
In bra, stockings and panty girdle, Helen looked at the hump. "Some dames are pretty slow," she said, "but I'm faster than most. Course, when I'm half-plastered it takes longer to work me up."
"I'll work you up, don't worry." He was unbuttoning his shirt.
"You sound like you don't have a very happy marriage," Helen said as she sat down to take off her hose.
"I don't. Otherwise why the shit do you think I'd be screwin' around?" He threw his shirt away.
She giggled, watching him as she flipped open her garter straps. "A man never needs an excuse to screw around, according to my experience. Most of 'em are running around with their peckers in their hands all the time."
"Yeah? Well, I'm not like that. When did you ever see me flash my pecker, huh?"
Just then he pulled his jockey briefs away and his modest-sized rod leaped out.
"Right now!" Helen squealed. "Ohh, he's a cute one!"
"You like him?" Kirk grinned, moving closer. "Uh-huh!"
With one stocking on and one stocking off, she parted her legs as she sat on Alene's vanity bench, and Kirk moved up between the rather fleshy thighs. Her hands went around his shaft, tilting it upward, and she twisted her head, dropping it at the same time.
She kissed the tip of his pecker, said, "Mmmmmm," and took the entire rosy head of it in her mouth, skinning back its covering with her hand.
"Jumping Jesus!" Kirk exclaimed.
She sucked, moving her lips noisily on his coronal ridge. Her tongue slid all over the head.
"Oh, baby ... oh, wow!" he cried. "You really go after it, don't you?"
"Nnngh," she groaned and kept sucking and licking.
If she kept this up, he thought, he was going to blast off and she wouldn't get a damned thing out of the party. It would serve her right, in a way, but he didn't like the idea of her telling the other guys he hadn't satisfied her. She was just the kind who talked, he figured.
He grasped her under the arms and lifted her to her feet, forcing her to give up his lollipop. It bobbed away, strawberry-red and gleaming.
"Let's get your frigging bra off," he growled and turned her away from him. He pulled the hooks apart and tossed the brassiere across the room.
In his wife's, vanity mirror, he caught a reflection of Helen's breasts. They were a disappointment. Most of the high pointy quality he had felt before had been in the construction of her bra cups, not in her boobs. Now they were a pair of flippers.
Ah, so what? He was too damned worked up to spend much time with them, anyway.
He reached around in front of her and gave them a quick swipe with his hand as Helen watched the action in the mirror. Then he placed both hands at her waist and began to force her plain white panty girdle down.
He bent a little and shoved it to the point where gravity would carry it the rest of the way, her lone stocking dragging along.
He stepped back and watched as she bent at the knees and wrestled the girdle and stocking off.
He got an idea. "Here," he said and moved up behind her, taking hold of her arms and positioning her in front of the mirror with her side directed toward it.
As both of them watched in the mirror, he moved up to her somewhat flabby, pounding buttocks and directed his rod down, running the head of it along her groove until the tip was against her anus.
"You like it this way, baby?" he laughed.
"The hell with you!" she exclaimed and pulled away from him. She turned and glared at him accusingly.
He nearly doubled over with laughter. "It was only a gagl What the hell would I want to take you that way for? I'd just get myself dirty."
Actually, however, the thought appealed to him. The trouble was, he was so worked up he would only be able to get halfway in her tight hole before he came. That wouldn't be much fun.
She moved to the bed and lay down, parting her heavy thighs. The hair which grew between them and covered the base of her belly was dark brown, as he had expected. These babes who like to pretend they're blondes I
He got onto his knees between her thighs, fell forward, and sank his stake in her garden.
She was looser than his wife. Well, that would give him a few extra thrusts.
He began to hump.
At that precise moment, Alene stepped up to the apartment door and rummaged in her purse for the key. She removed it, inserted the key in the lock, gave it a twist, and the door opened.
"Ohh ... baby I God-I-What a wild little sticker-I-Give it to me!"
Alene froze. It was a woman's voice, accompanied by the sound of rapidly compressing bedsprings, and it was coming from her bedroom-the bedroom she shared with Kirk!
"llhhh ... uhhh ... uhhh!"' That was Kirk's voice.
"Oh, Jesus I" the woman cried. The springs kept creaking ... faster. Then Alene heard: "Ahh! Ohhh ... mmm."
And in this moment of painful discovery, when her marriage was split asunder, all Alene could think was: What stupid sounds people make when they're going at it!
Then she was aware that her legs were wobbling. She wanted to run. She couldn't. She could move neither forward nor back, but there was a very real possibility that she was about to move down. Her knees felt as if they were about to give way.
But somehow they held. She just stood there, holding her breath, looking foolish, as the bed in the next room creaked under a pair of bodies changing position.
"Ohhh, I thought you were going to leave me hanging," the woman said.
"Baloney! I said you'd make it." That was Kirk.
"Say, you've got a nice little pussy there, sweetheart. It screws just fine."
Tour dick's not so bad, either, even if it's tiny."
"I call it my mighty mite," he told her.
The smallness of his rod had always bothered Kirk, but he masked his feeling from himself as well as from everyone else. However, it came out in strange ways.
"Don't get up," he added. "In a minute, we'll make the scene again. My dumb wife won't be home until late."
A surge of strength suddenly coursed through Alene. Fierce anger gripped her. She moved forward, into the open bedroom doorway.
The blonde on the bed saw her immediately. She gasped and sat up.
Kirk turned slowly, his face a comical study as its expression changed.
"Damn you!" Alene said in a low vicious tone. "Damn you to hell!"
"Baby ... " he moaned, sitting up. "I'm sorry!"
"like hell you are! You're just sorry I caught you at it. And on my bed, too!"
The blonde leaped to her feet, trying foolishly to conceal her hopping tits with a forearm and her bushy loins with the other hand. Both efforts failed.
Her eyes were wide. Her mouth was open. "This is a helluva thing," was all she could say.
Alene neither answered nor looked at her. She trained her steely gaze on Kirk.
"I'm going to turn around and walk out of here," she said, her voice as hard as her eyes. "When I get back, I want you gone. Packed and gone! Do you understand me?"
"Alene! Honey...!"
"Ohhh, don't!" she shrieked, her emotions suddenly letting go. "You never were a good husband. I should have left you a long time ago. But I thought at least that you were faithful and that you needed me." She sobbed, "I do!" he exclaimed, clambering onto his knees. "I do need you! This was just a mistake. I got liquored up. I didn't mean to do it. I swear, this is the first and only time."
"You expect me to believe that?" she wailed.
Helen was scurrying around, getting her clothes together.
"Baby, it's the truth," Kirk said, and started getting off the bed to go to her.
"Nooo!" she cried, backing away. "Don't touch me! Just get out!"
She turned and ran, sobbing, from the apartment.
"Son of a bitch!" Kirk mewled. "Goddamn son of a bitch!"
"Oh, it's probably for the best," Helen said as she yanked up her girdle.
He turned a hateful gaze on her. "What do you know,, you stupid shit?"
Her mouth dropped open and she stood stock-still, staring at him.
"Go on, get the hell out of here!"
"Well, I like that!" Helen said.
Kirk fell back on the bed and cried like a baby.
4
ALENE FELT MISERABLY CHEATED.
Shehad given a year of her life, all her heart and a great deal of suffering to a man, and he had rewarded her toy screwing a flabby slut on her bed. God knew how many other women he had screwed before that, while she was being painfully faithful to him.
Well, no more.
She was through suffering. And she was through having anything to do with him at all. A fine fool she had made of herself I
Starting tonight, she wasn't going to play the fool any more.
From a telephone booth on the corner, she dialed her boss' home. As the phone rang, her heart thudded.
"Hello." He answered it himself. Thank God!
"Paul? This is Alene." She struggled to control her voice.
"Well!" he exclaimed in surprise. Another emotion was mixed in. She wasn't sure if it was pleasure or apprehension. He said, "Is something the matter?"
"Yes. Everything. But that doesn't concern you. The reason I called is ... " She hesitated. Suddenly she felt cheap, tout she plowed doggedly forward. "If you still want me, I'll meet you somewhere tonight."
There was silence.
"Paul?"
His tone of voice was suddenly impersonal. "The answer's yes, of course. Let's see ... it's six-thirty now ... hold on a minute."
It was obvious to Alene that Paul's wife was listening to his part of the conversation.
Now there Were muffled voices. He evidently was holding his palm over the mouthpiece of the phone.
He came back on the line. "Yes, I'll meet you at eight. At the office."
"I understand," Alene said. "Good-bye." He hung up.
She replaced the receiver with trembling fingers.
She was about to commit adultery. It was something she had told herself she would never do. But that didn't matter now, because Kirk's adultery had already destroyed the sanctity of their marriage.
They had no marriage any more. She was a free woman again.
The thought at once excited her and gave her a sense of desolation. A broken marriage was one of the saddest things that could happen to a person, she had always believed, This had been impressed upon her when she was young, and what she had seen and heard as an adult had confirmed it.
But what could she do to save a marriage that had already been torn apart through no fault of her own? Anyway, she had to face the truth: She and Kirk never were right for each other.
No sooner had she concluded this than she bent her head and cried into her hand.
"Is something the matter?" a male voice inquired.
She looked up at a middle-aged man who stood on the sidewalk next to her, regarding her earnestly.
"It's ... it's all right," she said. "Thank you."
She turned away and dug for a Kleenex in her bag.
Suddenly she realized she would have to go somewhere, because Kirk was apt to appear on the street at any minute. She wasn't hungry, but she decided to try to eat something. There was over an hour to kill, and she couldn't just walk around.
She arrived at the ground-floor office of the Horner Construction Company at five minutes to eight. It was dark, indicating that Paul hadn't arrived yet. But she had a key, so she let herself in.
She. snapped on the lights in the reception area, walked through it and opened the low metal gate that led to the general office. The aisle led her between rows of desks. She came to a halt at her own, which was at the rear of the room,' next to the door to her boss' private office.
She sat down in the dimness, preferring not to turn on the lights in that area. Her heartbeat accelerated.
Damn! She shouldn't be doing this. Not tonight. What was she made of, anyway?
But her body was a'throb with excitement over the prospect of getting the first really good, thorough screwing she had received in over a year.
She had to have it. She couldn't wait even a day, now that she was free.
She had made up her mind that she wouldn't let Paul take her on his couch, as he had tried to do that afternoon. She was sure, anyway, that he wouldn't want to, now that no physical persuasion was needed. A couch was no place to have sex. Surely he would prefer to take her to a motel.
Her mind raced ahead, picturing herself lying in the center of a king-sized mattress, more or less spread-eagled, while ho approached with his sexing sword at the ready.
She wondered whether he was circumcised or not. She wondered if his cock was long or short and how thick it was. He "was somewhat older than any man she had been to bed with-did this mean he would take longer to become aroused? Would he work longer when he was in her?
He had better work longer than Kirk usually did! She was counting on that.
The thought of Kirk gave her another pang. Damn, she would have to remember to keep him strictly out of her mind. And why shouldn't she? Everything was over and done with between them. He meant nothing to her any more.
Oh, yeah? a small voice taunted.
Yes! Absolutely! And tonight she would prove it.
Paul was ten minutes late.
Alene had had a fifteen-minute wait by that time and her nerves, which had been shaky to begin with, were really shot by now.
She jumped' to her feet when Paul strode into the outer office.
"Yes. I'm back here." Her voice was unsteady.
"Come on. My car's out front."
She moved quickly toward him.
He stood still until she reached him. "God," he said hoarsely, gripping her arm with his strong hand, "I want to kiss you, but we mustn't with the lights on and the blinds open. Do you mind going to a motel?"
"No. I was hoping that's what you'd have in mind."
He steered her quickly out of the office, snapping off the lights. "Tell me what in the world made you change your mind so quickly."
"Wait until we're in the car," she said, barely able to articulate the words.
He set the lock on the office door and pulled it shut. She recognized his white Cadillac a short distance down the street, and she headed for it. Her legs felt rubbery.
Oh, God, was she going to be any good for him tonight, the way she felt?
What could she feel herself in this state?
He moved up beside her and opened the car door. "Get in," he said a little tensely.
The car's interior light bathed the area around the front seat with a soft glow. As she sat and swung her legs around, her well-formed knees and nearly half the length of her thighs were on display.
This wasn't unusual. In the office, Paul saw her knees and lower thighs all the time. Sometimes, when she sat in front of him taking dictation, she would cross her legs and he could no doubt see above the tops of her stockings ... if he looked. She had never caught him ogling, but she presumed he had.
Now the exposure seemed altogether different, somehow. It was a prelude to greater exposure-to complete exposure-and then to his possession of her.
He slammed the door and quickly rounded the rear of the car. He got in behind the wheel. He didn't look at her or say anything. He merely started the car, and they rolled swiftly away from the curb.
He drove down the street two blocks without saying a word or even acknowledging her presence. Alene didn't know what to say to him. She felt tight as the head on a drum.
He took a right turn, proceeded up a darkened street, then suddenly pulled the Cadillac over to the sidewalk and stopped. He set the brake and shifted into neutral. With the motor still running and the headlights on, he slid across the seat to Alene and pulled her into his arms, mashing his firm mouth hard against her yielding lips. He jammed his tongue in between her teeth and, at the same time, ran his left hand up the outside of her right thigh, off her stocking, across her tingling bare flesh, and onto her nylon-clad hip.
Alene's senses soared. She returned his kiss with suddenly erupting passion and lifted her right thigh, leaning on her opposite hip so that he could have access to the buttock of the hip he was caressing. His hand dug underneath and fondled it through her clinging flimsy briefs.
Their kiss grew hotter and hotter.
Alene had the giddy notion that she might climax, then and there.
Suddenly Paul drew back, releasing her. He was breathing hard. "Jesus, we've got to find that motel!" His normally smooth voice was filled with gravel.
He threw the car into forward motion, making it lurch a little.
Alene said, "You must think I'm an awful pig."
"Don't be ridiculous! I know something happened to change things for you. I'm glad about the result, but I'm afraid you may have been hurt. I'd like to hear about it."
"Oh, I can't! It's too ... too awful ... I ... " She bent her head forward and broke into racking sobs.
He looked at her anxiously. "Listen ... you need a drink. Maybe we'd better stop at a bar first."
"No! I'll be all right. Anyway, I couldn't bear to have anyone see me."
"Anyone but me, hmm?"
"Paul, you're so wonderful! I don't know what I'd do without you." She reached across and placed her hand on his arm. It was remarkable what a change had taken place in their relationship in the last three and a half hours.
She remained in the car while Paul registered at the motel. She no longer "was-worried about responding to him after they entered the room. Their embrace a little-while earlier, in the car, had proved her eagerness, in spite of all that had happened. If anything, she threatened to be more than he-or any man-could handle.
The-way she felt right now, she hoped he would screw her for two hours non-stop, while she hit one climax after another.
She had once known a man who could give her as many as three climaxes in a row. That was wonderful.
Paul returned to the car and got in quickly. He drove to a parking stall near the center of the court, headed into it, and stopped.
"It's number eleven, straight ahead," he said.
She got out at the same time he did. They met at the motel door. He opened it and let her in first. He pulled the door shut behind him, snapping on the lights.
"Darling!" he exclaimed huskily, and pulled her into his arms.
Alene at that moment embarked on a passion flight which was like none other she had ever known. The combination of her long-smoldering need, her keyed-up state this evening, and Paul's masterful technique produced a result of breathtaking intensity. She had never imagined anything so complete arid good.
Paul began by undressing her quickly but with exquisite regard for every new area of flesh which he unveiled. He didn't handle her delicately. Far from it! He knew this wasn't what she needed tonight; anyway, delicacy was not his style. But he was deft and knowing and thorough, and he had a way of communicating appreciation in a single look or touch.
After he had removed the top of her two-piece dress, he planted his parted lips against the smooth roundness of her shoulder and worked them, caressing her with his tongue as his hands moved to her back and parted the hooks of her pink brassiere.
He lifted the bra away and sighed with pleasure when he saw that her tits didn't fall, but continued to thrust roundly and firmly forward, their large nipples filled with desire. His hands slipped around them. He coddled them gently, then lowered his face to a standing reddish-brown bud and pulled it into his mouth, twirling it with his tongue and sucking it deeply into his kiss. When he had the nipple well embedded in his mouth, he tugged at it and shook his head briskly a couple of times, wobbling the breast back and forth.
"Paul! Oh, that's wonderful! Suck it! Chew it!"
He chewed lightly for a moment, then expelled the tense tingling nipple as if it were a cherry stone and went to the other one. This time he used only his tongue, traveling all around the turgid tip and nudging it this way and that.
Alene had her head back, her tits thrust forward. Divine sensations were coursing through her. She felt as if she were in the center of a warm whirlpool that was pulling her down ... down ... down.
Paul let her breasts go for the moment and concentrated on removing her skirt and half-slip. He dropped to a knee in order to work these garments down, uncovering her pink panties and the delightful white soft flesh between her panty leg elastics and the tops of her hose. He pressed his mouth to the outer side of her thigh and bit gently.
Alene released a small gust of breath. She was quivering all over, as if she were about to come. But she didn't want to come yet-not without Paul's prick inside her.
He took her skirt and slip entirely away as she leaned against his shoulder, and she stepped unsteadily out of them. He ran his hands up the outside of her legs, along her warm, snugly-filled nylons, onto her satiny and even warmer thigh flesh. He held her there for a moment, squeezing and kneading the responsive flesh as he quickly kissed the inner side of one thigh, then the other. Alene felt as if her knees were about to buckle.
Now Paul placed his hands around her panty-clad buttocks and rolled them gently as he nuzzled her soft belly through her briefs. One hand crawled around to her front, and the index finger hooked her panty elastic down until some flesh was exposed below her white garter belt. Paul kissed her there and browsed even lower, pushing the panty elastic with his nose.
He was dangerously close to her passion playground now. It had been so long since a man had kissed her where she lived that she thought she would go out of her mind with delight if Paul were to do it.
But he didn't. Not yet.
Instead, he drew her panties completely away, gazing at her exposed bush and the plushy lips beneath it. He pushed the nylon pants down her legs and held them as she stepped out. He tossed them aside.
Now he quickly flipped her garter clasps-first the two on her right leg, then those on her left. He pulled both stockings down at the same time. He removed the left one, then the right.
Her garter belt was unhooked and tossed aside in a wink. She was totally nude before him.
As he stood, he ran his hands all the way up the backs of her legs, over her buttocks, into the small of her back, and up as far as her shoulder blades.
He twisted, placed one arm behind her thighs and the other across her back, and lifted her in his arms.
"Paul! Oh, darling!"
He lay her in the center of the bed, and her thighs opened to him like the petals of a lovely flower. He gazed at her adorable pussy as he threw off his own clothes.
Alene would have enjoyed undressing him, but she felt too weak to remain on her feet, and she wasn't sure if she could make her hands do her bidding. Wild thrills coursed through her. She was almost unbearably hot between the legs. She felt like rubbing herself down there and rubbing her breasts as Paul got out of his clothes, but she managed to control this impulse.
Paul was both tall and husky. His chest was deep and sported much more hair than Kirk's. He wore striped boxer shorts and it was evident, as he took his trousers away, that his rod was large and hard with desire for her.
He bent and stripped off his socks, causing the fly of his shorts to gape. Alene glimpsed dense dark hair inside. She grew hotter and hotter as the moment neared when he would completely reveal himself.
He straightened up, hooked his thumbs over the waistband of his shorts, and shucked the shorts down. His passion-gorged penis sprang out. It was heavy and long and very hard. like Kirk, Paul was un-circumcised.
Nude, he strode to the side of the bed and Alene slid over to give him room to lie down.
She felt a tightness in her throat as she thought about what she was going to do first. The sensation was not caused by personal trepidation, for she wanted to do it very much. Every part of her panted to do it. But she feared Paul might think she was cheap or perverted.
Kirk would have thought that if she had ever dared try it with him, and as a result she had not. She hungered to do it now.
She couldn't let her doubts about Paul's reaction stop her. She had to act out with him this long-frustrated desire. She had to do it as surely as she had to breathe.
Paul was on his side, running an arm underneath her, drawing her close to him, but she placed her hands against his chest and urged him onto his back. She sprang to her knees, her luscious breasts bouncing.
She bent first to kiss him on the chest, nuzzling his hair, snaking her pink tongue about his nipples. He breathed hard and clenched his fists at his sides.
To think that such a lovely creature would turn oral with him the very first thing was almost too much. But he gloried in it. Oral love was something he never got at home. The only part of him which his wife kissed was his mouth, and she was not inclined to use her tongue even then.
Now Alene slid lower, browsing over his hairy belly, licking into his navel. The giddiness within her increased. She raised her head slightly and experienced a sharp thrill as she gazed at the splendor of his penis, rigidly erect, it's tip breaking the skin which enclosed it.
Hypnotized by lust, one of her slim gentle hands curled around the sturdy column while the other delved between Paul's thighs and cupped the hair-shrouded sac which contained his testicles. She caressed those balls tenderly as she slid his foreskin back, exposing the swollen rosy head of his cock.
"Oh, I want it!" Alene exclaimed, and she lowered her face, her mouth opening wide.
Her soft smooth lips slid around him, taking in as much of the head as they could hold. Her lips worked against his fevered flesh as she sucked, and to Alene the sensation was grand. It wasn't the taste that she liked most, though this was strangely exhilarating; rather it was the fact that she was this close to the source of male power. In this way it became even more intimately a part of her than when it was inserted in her vagina. Or, at least, that was the way it seemed.
The more she mouthed Paul's stalwart prick-sucking at it, sliding her lips, and licking it all over-the more transported she became, going at it with greedy abandon.
Paul tightened to an almost unbearable degree. The pleasure was intense. He considered stopping her, for fear she wouldn't enjoy the fountaining of his lust in her mouth, but then he decided to let her finish him this way. Surely she knew what would happen if she continued on, and evidently that was what she wanted.
It had happened to Alene before and, though she wouldn't admit this frankly to herself, she had enjoyed the experience. Subconsciously she did indeed want it to happen again.
So she kept licking and sucking, bobbing her head now, making anguished little sounds in her throat. Paul tightened more. His eyes rolled back. He clenched his fists until his fingernails bit into his palms.
Suddenly he let go, jerking and crying out, and
Alene moaned voluptuously as his spurting, thick passion-fluid struck the back of her mouth and slid down her throat. She gulped repeatedly, keeping her mouth in place and continuing to work her lips and tongue on the twitching head.
Then she, like he, began twitching, and she quaked down deep inside. Explosive waves of passion rolled up through her. She gurgled and pulled her mouth off his slick knob as she rolled onto her back beside him. Her hand cupped her fevered pussy as the shock waves continued rolling, inundating her brain with delight.
This climax gave her no surcease of longing, however.
It was like stopping for a very short breather on a long mountain climb. Her desire continued to ascend and she wriggled and twisted and cried out.
Paul was not long in responding, in spite of the exquisite release which had just drained him. His testicles were already at work manufacturing more semen. His blood continued to surge and, as he bent over her and began kissing, its heavy flow into his loins resumed, replenishing his recently shrunk organ of love.
His lips brushed Alene's belly, making her moan. She parted her legs very wide. His hand, glazing a trail for his mouth, slid onto her forested mound and along her hot vaginal lips.
"Ohhh! Nnnn!" she whimpered.
His middle finger tenderly traced the division of her pussy, then gently opened it and delved inside.
"Oh, Jesus!" she moaned. "I can't stand it!"
He opened her wider with his thumb and two fingers, lifted his head to take a look at the succulent rosy flesh, then bent once more, using his free hand to lift her near leg over the back of his neck.
Now she was spread very wide, and he was in a position to devour her all-but-sizzling sweetness.
He lowered his head and gently licked into her cunt. She keened. He pressed his mouth fully to her, his lips fastening to create a suction, and his marvelous tongue slid flutteringly in and out, in and out, in and out of her slippery, sultry crevice.
Alene sobbed and bumped her belly against him but he did not lose possession of her. His hands gripped her hips to hold her as steady as possible while he continued his passion feast, like a bear licking into a jar of honey.
The more he licked and tasted and delved into her warmth, the more aroused Paul became, until finally his rod was standing all the way out and quivering for insertion where his tongue now was.
To Alene, the tongue-stroking, accompanied by the steady seepage of his saliva into her heated slit, was having an even stronger effect. She was approaching her second crest of the evening as her anxious fingers pulled at Paul's hair and her lifted leg tightened around the back of his neck. Her belly bumped uncontrollably, quickening until she began to roll and toss like a stormy sea.
The tempest mounted, reaching her brain, and she screeched as all hell broke loose inside her and she came, quaking and heaving and all but strangling Paul with her serpentine legs. He rode out the storm, his mouth remaining in place until the turbulence passed.
With a deep blissful sigh, Alene languished temporarily, but Paul would not let her remain that way for long because his own need now was rigidly demanding.
He swarmed atop her and inserted his shaft into her super-slick and quite-open pussy. But his rod was thick enough so that the requisite amount of friction was obtained, and when he began to. stroke it up and down Alene promptly came awake with a second renewal of desire.
This, after all, was what she liked best-this pumping, sliding, screwing motion of a man's hard, swollen cock. And she responded to it hungrily by bobbing her hips and rotating them at the same time.
Paul, propped on his arms, enjoyed the quiver of her luscious tits as he sent bolt after bolt of manpower surging deeply into her soft passion socket. She tossed her head against the pillow and moaned and cried, her eyes tightly closed, her lovely mouth twisting.
Paul screwed her powerfully, his penis working like a motor-driven plunger, steadily, untiringly up and down, in and out, round and round, then up and down again-continuing without letup, rubbing her clit ecstatically on each circling thrust and return.
Alene writhed, her lubricated vagina sliding up and down on his rid, rotating and rising to him as he drove deep.
He had a great deal of retentative capacity because of the climax he had made just a short time before. The pressure now took quite a while to build, and Alene derived the maximum advantage from this fact, getting a screwing which topped any her husband had ever given her and just possibly topped the best she had ever had before in her life.
She climaxed for a third time as he went at it.
Paul didn't pause, and she was immediately caught up for an even higher ascent up passion mountain. The air was rarified at this elevation, and she had difficulty breathing. Her heart thumped fast. She became dizzy.
Still Paul stroked and stroked, driving his massive penis into her again and again.
"Oh ... uh-oh ... " she sobbed. "Uh-oh." She-was panting and gasping and sobbing all at the same time.
Paul lowered himself against her hobbling tits, running both arms underneath her body to weld them snugly together. In this position, with his weight resting on his arms, which were beneath her, he kept thrusting into her steadily and forcefully, driving his dynamic dick as deeply as it could go.
Alene glimpsed the shining glory of a fourth climax suspended in front of her, but she couldn't reach it. She was like an aerialist on a trapeze of excruciating pleasure-pain that swayed back and forth, back and forth, but she couldn't get to the golden ring that would carry her home.
Her need mounted, but there seemed to be no slaking it this time, even as Paul stroked.
She decided that a new position might help, so she cried, "Roll me over! Let me have it from the back!"
Paul pulled out of her and got onto his knees. He helped her roll onto her belly, then grasped her smooth white hips and boosted them so that her passion playground was totally accessible to him from the rear.
He held his wet vermilion cock in his hand as he moved up. He nosed it into her wiggling pussy and drove it deep, bumping his belly against her lush, smooth ass.
She rotated wildly as he proceeded to pump into her with quick little thrusts, his hand seeking underneath to find her tingling love tip. He located it and began to pinch and roll it between his thumb and forefinger as he pumped.
Alene gasped and bucked beneath him, tossing her body with abandon. Her full, dangling breasts tossed and bumped together. She had her head back, her spine arched, and she cried and moaned as, she concentrated every iota of her thought and energy upon arriving at her goal.
She gained ground, but still the passion prize swayed out of reach.
Paul was closing in on his. The bouncing of her buttocks against his belly helped. But he didn't want to finish ahead of her.
He pulled out suddenly and ordered, "Onto your back again!"
She rolled, and he struck once more with his love lance, driving it deep.
Immediately he commenced stroking rapidly in and out, giving it everything he had and rubbing her erect, tingling clitoris perfectly each time.
Alene wrapped her legs high around him. She swiveled and pounded her pelvis against his. She cried and squealed.
The golden prize swayed closer to her anxiously groping fingertips. She tried her best to grasp it.
"Just a little more!" she cried. "I'm almost there!"
Paul drove into her very hard and fast and both of them were agonizingly close to gratification-she trying to reach it, and he desperately seeking to stave off his own until she came. To help her, he resorted to verbal stimulation, gasping out the words in a half-choked shout:
"Oh-God-baby-I'm-gonna-come! Come!"
Alene picked it up and screamed it back at him:
"Oh, make me come! Make-me-come-now!"
Miraculously she came, exploding deep inside.
Warmth and light suffused her. Instead of swinging to a safe stop on the figurative ring, she had sought, she went soaring up and away, climbing as if toward the farthest stars.
Her sharp vaginal spasms brought Paul to his reward. He growled fiercely as he pinned her body to the bed and jerked again and again, ejecting hot spurts' of semen into her womb.
When Alene returned to reality a few moments later, he was still inside her but had grown soft. He was kissing her all around the neck and ears and murmuring, "You sweet wonderful baby ... you luscious doll ... I'll never lose you now that we've made it!"
"Paul, it was so wonderful!" she breathed.
She felt blissfully relaxed. Her gratification was complete. For the moment, the breakup of her marriage was forgotten as she languished in the afterglow of the most satisfying sexual experience she could remember.
"Why did you put me off for so long?" Paul murmured as he tugged tenderly at her scented ear lobe. "Didn't you know it would be this good? I did."
"I was married then," she said in all earnestness.
He lifted his head and looked at her. "But you're still married." He grinned. "You couldn't have gotten a divorce since five o'clock this afternoon. Even Mexican justice doesn't work that fast."
"I'm not divorced legally, but morally, Cam, and from a practical standpoint, too. I caught Kirk with a woman this afternoon. He was screwing heron our bed!"
"Baby ... " Paul said with real sympathy in his voice and he resumed kissing her neck.
"We've broken up."
"It may be the best thing for you. I'll tell you this-I'm going to do my best to convince you it is."
"But you're married, Paul. There can't be anything permanent between us."
"What's permanent in this world, Alene? We kid ourselves if we think anything lasts forever."
"Well, we're here together now. And I'm not sorry." '
"This is only the first time, dear. We're going to make history together, you and I."
"Oh, Paul ... " she stroked his mussed hair and his shoulder.
"Do you have a place to live?" he inquired.
"Yes. Of course. I'm staying in the apartment. I told Kirk to be on his way."
"Do you think he'll go?"
"He'd better."
"I was thinking, darling, that if you wouldn't object to the idea, I would be glad to provide an apartment for you."
"No!"
He pushed up on his arms to look at her again. "Why not? What's wrong about it? I'd be happy to do it, Alene. Really."
"It just wouldn't be right." She smiled. "Now get off, will you, darling? You're getting heavy."
"I'm sorry."
He removed himself from her vaginal embrace and rolled onto his back beside her.
"At least we'll, be together like this from now on, won't we?" he asked.
"It was divine, Paul. It really was. But I don't want to think about the future. Everything's too uncertain."
"I understand."
The anguish associated-with her broken marriage was seeping back into her consciousness now. There was no way she could prevent this,' except perhaps by launching herself into another orgy of screwing. And the truth was that she was thoroughly screwed out. Also, she doubted if Paul would be able to perform for a while.
She sat up. She was still a little dizzy from her furious emotional experience of a few minutes ago.
"You're not thinking of leaving already," Paul said.
"I don't know what I want to do."
"Lie down. After a while, we'll take the trip again."
"Do you want to?" she asked, looking earnestly at him.
"Of course. Don't you?"
She smiled faintly. "I'm not sure I can."
"Nonsense."
Alene lay back beside him. There was nothing else to do tonight. She certainly didn't want to return to the apartment until Kirk had had plenty of time to clear out.
She thought of his being gone, of her living alone again. It didn't frighten her. There was nothing to be frightened of. But she experienced a sense of inner desolation, just the same.
Kirk had monopolized her thinking for so long, she would feel a great sense of loss at no longer having him with her.. It would be like having a leg amputated. He was part of her life, part of her.
For better or worse, was how the words went. She had taken him on that basis.
She got up and began to gather her clothes.
"What's the matter?" Paul asked. "I thought you wanted to stay for a while."
"I thought so too, but I've decided I don't." She smiled down at him. "You're a wonderful lover. I suppose I shouldn't say it, but I'm grateful to youmore than you'll ever know."
"Alene! I'm the one who should be grateful ... and I am!"
Holding her clothes, she gave him another warm smile and turned to walk to the bathroom.
He gazed fondly at her twinkling white buttocks until they disappeared from sight.
He was disappointed that she was not remaining with him longer, but he felt confident he would have her again. And again.
She had enjoyed herself a great deal-fully as much as he had. That slob she was married to must be a miserable lover, Paul conjectured.
He folded his hands behind his head and smiled as he gazed at the ceiling, proud of himself for having brought Alene such pleasure and thinking of the many additional thrills they would share during the weeks to come.
5
PAUL DROVE HER BACK TO HER APARTMENT house. As she rode up in the elevator, her mental conflict became more intense.
She had thought, after she'd walked in on Kirk with that slut, that her ordeal was over. Momentarily she had felt free. But now that she'd satisfied her long-frustrated physical need, the inner strife was back, worse than ever.
She realized now that the kind of love she felt for Kirk could not be cut off abruptly, no matter what he did. In fact, the more he revealed his weakness, the more attached to him she became. She needed his weakness, just as he needed her strength.
When she reached the door of the apartment, she was consciously hoping he would be there, waiting for her, pleading for her forgiveness. But she couldn't forgive him in the sense that everything would become as it had been before that. There was no physical sanctity left in their relationship, and she would not return to the condition of sexual deprivation under which she had lived.
In the back of her mind, a notion stirred. As yet it was only half-formed, but she was becoming consciously aware of it.
She opened the door. The place was dark and silent.
"Kirk?"
There was no answer.
She flicked on the lights in the living room. Her sense of desolation deepened.
She walked to the bedroom doorway and stood where she had stood a couple or three hours before, when she had caught her husband and that cheap, flabby blonde on her bed. The bed was there, rumpled as before, but it was empty. Its emptiness mocked her.
She strode to the closet and shoved the sliding door aside. Kirk had taken his things. He was indeed gone.
She felt the muscles in her throat contract, and she turned away.
The thought that Kirk might be with the blonde, having her again, gave Alene no particular pain. She had just been had by Paul, and she probably would let herself be had by him again. It was just that Kirk was. gone-and, if he had taken her words seriously a little while ago, he would not come back. Her next contact with him might be in a divorce court.
Oh, no ...
She paced the floor, wondering what it was that could make a woman need a man who had no strength to offer her and was not sufficiently competent in bed to meet her needs.
But question it or argue with it as she would, the truth was plain: She needed Kirk. And the fact of his departure, which indicated to her that he felt he didn't need her any more, made her sense of loss all the more poignant.
Finally she got undressed and went to bed.
She tossed and turned, her mind dwelling on Kirk-not in a sexual way, but by picturing him as he was in quiet times when they were together, joking or touching her tenderly, as he could do occasionally.
She thought of times when he had been low and she had uplifted him, inspired him, given him a new sense of purpose and a renewed confidence in himself.
Their sexual contacts were actually the least significant of their relations. Yet she was a sexual creature, and she had to have the kind of gratification which only a highly competent lover could provide.
She hardly dared admit to herself that her premarital experiences had planted within her an enduring need which was broader than this-that perhaps she needed a variety of lovers and would never be permanently satisfied with one, even if he could make love like Paul Horner.
After she fell asleep from sheer mental exhaustion, she found no relief from torment in her dreams. Kirk was there-smiling, holding her hand, talking earnestly to her. They were involved in something, and physical sex played no part in it. All the while, as she dreamed, another part of her mind seemed to know that this was a fantasy, that Kirk was no longer with her, that he would never be with her again.
"Alene ... "
She didn't know how many times her name was spoken' before the sound penetrated her veil of sleep and impressed itself upon her consciousness. She awakened.
"Alene."
She gasped and sat up, gazing into the darkness beside the bed.
Kirk had returned! She could make out his shape standing there, as if her dream had summoned him.
"I had to come back," he said. "I have to talk with you."
Her spirit soared. She reached and turned on a lamp.
Kirk was pale and shaken, as she had seen him many times. This was one of the two contrary sides of his nature, the obverse of his cocky brashness.
"Darling, I'm sorry," he told her. "What I did was unforgivable, I know, but I'm begging you to forgive it. I need you so much."
The words were balm to her wounded soul.
"Let me sit down," he begged. "Please."
She slid over on the bed and he sat beside her.
"That woman meant nothing to me," he said. "Less than nothing. You have to believe that."
"You screwed her right here, Kirk, Right here on our bed."
"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" He closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side. "I don't know what made me do that. It was just that she was available. She was cryin' for it and ... "
"And you had to give it to her. I know."
"Can you ever forgive me, Alene? Will you take me back?"
"How many were there before that blonde."
"None," he said quickly. "Don't lie."
"No. Really. She was the first."
"If you're going to lie to me, Kirk, it's no good. We have to be honest with each other, otherwise marriage is a farce."
He looked down. "AH right. So there have been others. But none of them meant a thing to me. That's the important part."
"All that time, Kirk, when you were screwing those women, I was true to you."
"I know you were, darling," He leaned toward her and tried to take her in his arms.
She pressed his arms away and forced him to sit back. "You'll notice I said was true ... past tense."
His face darkened a little and he squinted.
"When I caught you with that slut tonight, it changed things. If I do take you back, it will have to be on a new basis."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
The thought which had been forming in the back of her mind suddenly flashed on the screen of her consciousness, clear and bright.
She said, "I used to think marriage meant fidelity. Physical fidelity. It doesn't mean that to us any more."
"But it can. We can go back to that."
"No. You can't restore a crystal goblet that's been shattered."
"We're not talking about glass, Alene. We're flesh and blood. Human beings. We can do anything we want to do."
"Yes. And you want to screw around. You've proved that."
"Goddamn it!" His voice rose. "I told you those bitches didn't mean anything to me!"
"If you're going to shout, you can leave right now."
His anger wilted.
"The fact is that we're not faithful to each other any more." She paused for effect, looking him right in the eye. "Neither one of us. I went out with a man this evening."
"No! You didn't!"
"For God's sake, Kirk, don't be shocked! Not after doing what you did to me."
"But ... it's different for the wife to screw around."
"Oh, is it? I have physical needs, too, and it shouldn't come as any shock to you to hear you haven't done a very good job of taking care of them."
"So you're gonna throw that up to me again."
"Yes. As long as we're talking things out, we're not going to ignore what's important to me. If you're not-willing to face up to our total situation, the-way it really is, there's no sense talking at all. You might as well walk out of here and go back where you came from-to that blonde or whoever."
"I wasn't with her just now."
"I don't care. I was with a man in a motel. He made love to me gloriously and I came four times. Can you believe that?"
He looked as if he had been slapped, but he didn't say anything and he didn't move to leave.
"AH right," she went oh. "As I was saying, we can't go back to the way things were. I don't want to. If I have to choose between that and breaking up our marriage for good and all, I'll break it up."
"But what's the point of two people living together if they aren't faithful to each other?"
"You tell me. You were willing to live that way for quite a while, as long as I didn't know what you were doing. That was hypocrisy of the worst sort, Kirk. We'll have no more of it."
"What you're saying is that you'll take me back only on the condition that I let you go out with other men?"
A little light came into her eyes. "Not exactly. That would be tawdry-as tawdry as the way you were carrying on before."
"Then, what are you getting at?"
"We go out mutually, at the same time, with other couples who feel about sex the same way we do."
"You mean ... swap with them?" He acted as if the idea was almost unthinkable.
"That's the term that's being used." She smiled a little. "It's a very popular indoor sport these days."
"I know people are doing it but, Christ, it's not ... decent."
"You think it's more decent to tell your wife to go to a movie while you bring some tramp home and screw her on your marriage bed?"
He lifted his hands to his ears and made a pained expression. "Please don't mention that again. I'm sorry I did it. God, I wish I could wipe it out somehow."
"No, you don't. You only wish you could wipe it out of my memory. The only thing that bothers you is the fact I caught you at it."
"Oh, Alene ... " he bawled.
"It's true, Kirk. We have to be honest. I absolutely insist on that."
"But the idea of another guy with you ... "
"You have to accept it. If you can't, we might as well call it quits completely."
"You've changed so. Christ, if anybody had told me my wife would be talking this way, I would have said he was nuts."
"And if anyone had told me I'd catch you with another woman on my bed, I would have said that was crazy. But I did catch you, and, as far as I'm concerned, that's changed everything. I don't know why you should be so set against swapping. You'll know what. I'm doing, who I'm with. And we'll both have the same privilege. We won't be committing adultery, really, because, there will be mutual consent."
"Who will we get to swap with?" he asked.
"That shouldn't be a problem. I don't doubt there are lots of other couples who have the same kind of marriage we have-something holding them together that's stronger than physical sex, but still they have to have their physical needs taken care of. Swapping would be the perfect solution for them, as it is for us.
"Take the man I was out with tonight, for instance," she went on. "He cheats on his wife all the time. Maybe she has the same kind of urge but has been repressing it the way I did."
"Who is the guy?" Kirk asked.
"I won't tell you. You might get some silly notion about calling on him and punching his face in."
"Did he put you up to this?"
"No. As a matter-of-fact, I didn't think of it until after I got home. The idea didn't really jell until you woke me up. Then it seemed to be right there in my mind, as if it had come to me by magic."
"I guess you've been wanting to do something like this all along."
"Is that what I just said?"
"No, but I can read between the lines."
"Well, it's what I want to do now, and that's all that counts. Whether you like the idea or not, it's the only hope for us."
"Let's think it over. Things may look different to you in the morning."
"All right, Kirk. If that's what you want. Only you can't stay here unless you agree."
He sprang to his feet and glared down at her. "Goddamn it, that isn't right!"
"Yes, it is," she replied calmly. "I have grounds for divorce as things now stand-legally and morally. That means, to my way of thinking, that the old marriage is over. Either we make a new deal that's satisfactory to both of us, or there's no deal at all and you have no right in my bedroom."
"Son of a bitch! If you can go to bed with some other guy, as you admitted you did, you can sure as hell go to bed with me."
"That's where you're wrong, Kirk. I have the right to make choices."
"You don't love me," he accused.
"If I didn't, I wouldn't even be talking to you now."
"But how in God's name can you love one man and talk about going to bed with others?"
"The same way you could love me and run around with other women. You did love me, didn't you? And don't you love me now?"
"Yes!"
"Then that's your answer. Get it out of your head, Kirk, that a woman has to take a different view of sex than a man does. As far as I'm concerned, I have equal rights. The law says so, and my nature feels it. I would never have entered into a marriage on any other basis, and I won't renew our marriage on any other basis now."
As far as Alene was concerned, that closed the matter. Kirk could see this. He fidgeted for a moment or so, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and then he said, "All right. We'll try it. It's gonna hurt me like hell to think of you with another guy, but I guess you've got some kicks coming, if that's what you're interested in. You're gonna be disappointed, though. You won't like it after you've had a taste. And it's gonna gripe you to know I'm with the guy's wife."
"That's where you're wrong."
"We'll see."
She felt pleased with herself-so strongly that she wanted Kirk now in a physical way.
"Come to bed, darling," she told him gently.
He gazed at her, confusion playing over his face. Then a smile slowly took possession. So she wanted it! Christ, he hadn't hoped for such a speedy reconciliation.
He began to pull at his clothes and she reached to turn out the lamp.
She had showered at the motel after her lengthy passion bout with Paul, She hoped Kirk had done the same after his blonde. But even if he hadn't, she wanted him. This was the only way to seal their bargain, to establish the kind of new relationship she wanted.
Her heartbeat accelerated as he got into bed in the dark beside her. This was almost like a second wedding night.
She hoped it would be better than the first one.
She turned eagerly into his arms, and he said, "God, when I thought I'd lost you, it was like the bottom had dropped out of everything."
"I didn't feel any better about it," she admitted.
"Can I really believe that?" he asked as his eager hand moved between them and worked its way up the front of her flimsy nightgown.
"You can believe everything I tell you, Kirk."
She found his mouth with her parted lips just as his hand closed around a firm mound of breast. He squeezed it and rotated his palm against its center, which served to harden her nipple.
Their tongues stroked, gently at first and then in real passion. She worked her knee between his legs and slid her thigh up to his crotch.
He was stiffening.
Well, at least that blonde hadn't taken all the Starch out of him!
As they continued to kiss, he worked one of her shoulder straps down and let a ripe round titty leap out. He surrounded it with his hand, then transferred his mouth from her lips to the large standing nipple and began to pull at the excited erectile flesh.
Alene placed her hand at his loins, fondling his maleness, sliding his foreskin back, caressing the corona of his cock.
He pulled up her nightgown roughly and took her bushy mound in his hand. She was hot down there. He was reminded that she had been hot for some other man that night. This served as a momentary damper to his desire, but it did not turn him off, and, with her fingers dancing over his aroused pecker, he forced himself to forget it.
His middle finger opened her fleshy bower and entered.
"I want to get on top of you tonight," she announced.
This was something he ordinarily didn't like. He preferred to think of himself as the master at all times, even though in reality he more than often was not, but tonight he wouldn't argue with her. He was too grateful to be back in bed with her like this to offer any objections at all.
She rolled atop him, her thighs planted wide apart. He threw the covers toward the foot of the bed and pulled her flimsy nightgown all the way up. He brought it over her head and tossed it aside.
His happy hands slid up and down her slender back, and then, as she leaned forward, he gripped the plump satiny divisions of her rear. He squeezed and rolled them as she shook her boobies above his face. He nipped at her tossing nipples and gave a little cry when he failed to catch either one. She laughed in her throat, enjoying the tease for the moment.
Now she pressed one briefly against his mouth, jerking it up before he could take hold for a suck.
He brought his hands quickly up her sides to basket both breasts with his thumbs underneath them. He squeezed and wobbled them.
"Wow!" he exclaimed. "Nobody's boobs beat yours!"
He fed a distended nipple to his mouth and clamped onto it, pulling greedily. Thrills climbed through her.
She always liked Kirk this way-sucking at her tits as if he were a baby.
He pulled one breast out of his mouth and smeared his seeking lips to the bristling crest of the other. Alene rubbed and rolled her moistening loins along his rod, which lay upward against his belly. She was nearly ready to take him inside her, but she preferred not to rush.
It was becoming a matter of urgency to Kirk, and he worked a hand down there to grip his weapon and move its knob along Alene's gash until he arrived at the passageway into her depths.
The tickling felt so good to her that she did not lift herself sufficiently to avoid connection, and she knew the delicious sensation of his slippery shaft sliding slowly up her snug vagina until he possessed her to the hilt.
"Oh, Kirk!" she cried. "Ohhh, darling!"
The words were sweet to his ears, but he couldn't believe she meant them-not after she had just pro-posed that they engage in swaps with other couples. However, mean it or not, her sweet, warm cunt enclosed him, and he .was certainly going to take advantage of that fact to the utmost.
He began to bump upward into her, jarring her with the force of his thrusts. It felt good to Alene-so good that she started to rotate her loins around him. The more urgently he bumped, the faster and harder she ground her pelvis.
An elevator of passion was ascending, with her inside it, and it was a delightful joggling ride.
She worked her box faster and began to slide up and down on her husband's jabbing prick. He gripped her tits and squeezed them ferociously, so that it hurt her, but this only heightened her lust. She whimpered and moved faster.
At this point the sensation became so good for Kirk that he tightened abruptly and let go like Old Faithful. Alene cried out and moved very fast. But she wasn't close enough to bring herself to an orgasm as he quit moving and immediately began to wilt.
He had disappointed her again.
This time was not such a tragedy, however, because she had been screwed ecstatically just a few hours before.
She didn't have the heart to let Kirk know his efforts had been a failure, so she sighed, feigning completion, and lowered herself fully against him from shoulders to loins.
He gripped and rolled the cheeks of her bottom, which had the effect of wiggling her vagina around his softened tool. This only aggravated her frustration, since it was no longer possible for her to reach a climax. She didn't stop him, however. Let him play.
She ran her fingers into his hair and kissed him warmly about the face.
It had been an eventful evening, and the agreement which marked its resolution gave her a new and strange sense of excitement.
6
THE HORNER CONSTRUCTION COMPANY LOOKED the same as always to Alene when she arrived for work on the following morning. Her co-workers, all familiar faces, greeted her in the same way. Even Paul, seated at his desk behind the open door of his private office, looked the same.
But everything was different.
The company was no longer just the place where she worked; the other employees were no longer mere working companions; Paul was no longer just her boss. Last night he had been her lover, and last night she had made a new arrangement with Kirk-these facts changed everything.
Now she was Paul's mistress (at least for one night) as well as secretary. Paul, in addition to being the mild and pleasant man who dictated letters to her, was the possessor of the magnificent cock that had made her rapturously happy. And as for the other people in the office-they were potential partners in the game of swap which she and Kirk had agreed late last night that they would practice.
Take Ed Mathews, for instance.
He was a lanky, slow-grinning estimator with a wry sense of humor. Alene had always found him attractive. Perhaps this was because he bore a faint resemblance to Kirk, but without Kirk's cockiness. She wondered how Ed would be on a mattress, with her lying nude beside him. Perhaps, if Ed and his wife were swap-inclined, Alene would get the opportunity to find out.
Across the office sat cute, blonde Nancy Farber. Kirk-would be interested in her, undoubtedly, and her big handsome brute of a husband interested Alene. She had met him about a week ago when he had shown up at the office to take Nan out for the evening. Alene had moistened her panties "with excitement as they stood close and he looked her over. She had detected, she believed, something in his gaze which went beyond the normal friendliness one would display toward a casual acquaintance.
She didn't know, of course, whether either Ed or Nancy, to say nothing of their spouses, would be interested in swapping; but, according to all the latest books and magazine articles, people all over the country were trying it, or at least thinking about doing so. If the Mathews and Farbers had any thoughts along that line at all, Alene would let them know she and Kirk were the ones who would help them explore this fascinating subject.
The buzzing of her intercom jerked her mind suddenly back to the present moment. Alene leaned and depressed a key.
"Yes?"
Paul's voice came warmly from the little box: "Would you come in, please?"
"Of course," she murmured, and a tingle went through her.
She quickly opened her purse and took a look in her compact mirror. Her make-up was in order, the glance confirmed.
She snapped her purse shut and stood up on legs which might have been stronger. She adjusted her skirt so that it fit correctly across her shapely un-girdled bottom. Then she moved to Paul's open doorway, smiling as she entered his office.
Standing behind his desk, he returned the smile.-
"Close the door, will you, Alene?"
She did as he requested. By the time she was facing the center of the room again, he had come out from behind the desk and was moving toward her.
"Darling ... " he murmured.
He took her in his arms, and she did not resist. Her belly came warmly against his loins and her breasts bunched against his firm, husky rib cage. His hands crawled along her back.
Their lips merged.
The stroking of his wet tongue in and: out of her mouth quickly fired her passion, and his caressing hand on her fanny added to the flame. She felt his penis responding, and this set off an alarm bell..
She pushed backward, away from him. She was breathing a little more heavily than before.
"We can't do that in here, Paul."
"Why not? No one would dare walk in without knocking."
"Just the same, we mustn't. And," she added wickedly, "this is just the beginning of the day. You wouldn't want, to tire yourself out so early, would you?"
"Tire myself! Are you kidding?? He grinned. "Making love to you is an exhilarating experience, not a tiring one."
"Well, the office is no place for it."
She made a playful face and tried to get past him. He let her, then placed a well-aimed smack on her wiggling bottom, causing her to gasp. The sharp report as his palm struck her flesh, with only her thin skirt and light lingerie in between, coupled with the stimulating feel of her firm bouncy buttocks, further encouraged Paul's amorous inclinations.
Alene's next words had the opposite effect, however, as she seated herself beside his desk and crossed her legs, revealing cute knees and several inches of lovely thigh flesh through sheer stockings: "Paul, we have to reach an understanding. I'm a married woman, and I'm going to stay married."
Standing beside her chair, he blinked down at her. "That's kind of a switch from last night, isn't it?"
"Yes," she admitted. "But Kirk came back to the apartment. We both realized we couldn't call it quits. We love each other."
"Alene," he said slowly as he walked back around his desk, "you don't mind, I hope, if I observe that you're a changeable person. Yesterday afternoon you were securely married and would have nothing whatever to do with an extramarital affair; barely two hours later you talked as if you were divorced; now you're very much married again."
"But with a difference."
"Oh?" He sat down and regarded her with interest.
"Kirk and I reached an understanding. I'd like to tell you about it."
"By all means."
"First, I have to explain that the trouble with our marriage was sexual."
"I presumed that." There was a touch of kindly amusement at the corners of Paul's eyes.
Alene went onto say, "Kirk didn't satisfy me much of the time. Also, he was playing around with other women while I was faithful to him and, frankly, hurting for physical satisfaction."
"I realized that, too. About your hurting for physical satisfaction, I mean."
"But Kirk and I still mean a lot to each other," Alene went on. "Neither of us wants a divorce. So we've devised a way to stay married and still gain the physical satisfaction we both need."
Paul smiled. "That should dove-tail nicely with my wishes."
"Perhaps it will. But there can't be any more motel dates like we had last night."
"Why not, for God's sake?"
"Because they're cheap and dishonest. I don't want Kirk cheating with women behind my back, and I don't want to cheat behind his."
"What are you getting at?"
"Just this: Kirk and I have agreed to swap with other couples, if we can find some who are interested."
Paul's mouth dropped open as he gazed at her in surprise.
She smiled. "That doesn't let you out, Paul. That is, if you can convince your wife to play the game with us."
"Good lord, Alene! You don't know what you're saying. My wife is about as sexless as a cabbage."
"Is she, really? Or have her sexual impulses just been dulled by the knowledge that she has a husband who plays the field as if he were single?"
"That's absurd! She doesn't know."
A wise look came over Alene's face. "What will you bet? The average wife knows more than her husband gives her credit for. Also, it just Could be that too long a time with the same man has dulled her."
"That's not very complimentary," he retorted, showing obvious hurt.
"It wasn't meant to be critical. You're a wonderful lover. That is, you were with me. And probably you were with your wife at the beginning. But couldn't it be that you've grown stale with her because you've lost interest in her? If that's the case, how would you expect her to react?"
"I've never thought of it that way. It's true that Patricia was much more responsive at the beginning."
"And you were much more passionate, no doubt. As you were with me last night."
"Alene, you amaze me! You really do. I wouldn't have suspected you could take such an objective viewpoint of sex relations. Most women can't."
"I suppose I'm a little different. My parents brought me up to be broad-minded, and I had quite a bit of experience before I married Kirk. I don't happen to think there's anything dirty about sex. at all, but I also believe it shouldn't be treated cheaply. And I believe a married couple should be honest with each other all the time."
"Well, I'm afraid Pat and I couldn't be that way with each other. It's possible she suspects I've been seeing other women, but she's never indicated it to me. That means, if she does know, she prefers not to bring it out into the open. And she apparently has no desire to go out with other men."
"How do you feel about swapping? With Kirk and me, for instance."
"You know how I feel about you. As for Patty going to bed with your husband ... well, I suppose I could tolerate that, if she wanted to and if she truly would accept the idea of my bedding you."
"Kirk and I wouldn't have to be the end of your swapping adventures, either. On the contrary, we would be only the beginning, if both you and your wife wanted it that way."
Paul rubbed his cheek. "It's certainly a revolutionary thought. I'm a little afraid to even broach it to Pat, though."
"You could do it in an impersonal way. Ask her opinion of swapping-she's undoubtedly heard of it without relating it to you and her. If she indicates interest, or even tolerance of it, you could go on from there. The door would be wide open."
Paul laughed. "You know, I never realized what a smart little secretary I have. Damn it, Alene, not only are you great in bed and can type a mean letter, you also have something between your ears besides feminine fluff."
"Thank you, kind sir," she smiled.
"But in the meantime, while I'm trying to set things up with Pat, what's to prevent you and me from enjoying ourselves together, the way we did last night?"
I told you. It isn't honest, as long as I'm going to stay married to Kirk. I wouldn't have gone to the motel with you last night except that I thought my marriage was over."
"Then Kirk came crawling back, hmm?"
"Yes."
"I can understand why, having bedded you myself."
"It isn't just a physical thing between us, Paul," she corrected. "We really love each other, though you probably find it hard to believe."
"Not necessarily. I love Pat in a certain way, but sex between us doesn't amount to a damn any more."
"Then swapping is the perfect solution for you, just as it is for Kirk and me."
As he thought it over, Paul had to admit it was possible Alene was making a high degree of sense. Swapping had some obvious points to recommend it. He began to dwell on its possible application to his own life, and he even forgot his disappointment over not gaining an immediate renewal of his access permit to Alene's lovely loins.
He would feel Patricia out tonight on the subject of swapping. She prided herself on being up to date about most things. As for sex, they hardly ever talked about it any more. And they didn't do it much, either. When they did, it wasn't very good.
Perhaps Alene had put her pretty finger directly on their trouble: Perhaps Pat's coolness was engentlered by his lack of passion toward her, He remembered how it had been when they were first married, nearly ten years ago. She was a fireball then. And she had come to him a virgin, too.
There was no doubt in his mind that he wag the only man who ever had possessed her.
How would she react to the idea of having a new man now, after all these years?
How would he react, really, when the time came, to the idea of another man possessing her?
The questions were disquieting ones, and fascinating. He was determined to explore the possibilities further.
At that precise moment, Patricia Horner lay on her back on her rumpled twin bed in the luxurious bedroom she shared with her husband.
She was nude.
Her long black hair was loose and flowing over the pillow. Her feet were firmly planted against the bed, her knees up, her thighs parted.
She had a rapturous expression on her lovely face as one hand tweaked and rolled a small and very adorable red nipple while the other petted the equally adorable blanket of dark fluff which grew at the base of her shapely white belly and between her trim satiny thighs.
She stared sightlessly at the ceiling while her imagination busily visualized a man she scarcely knew-the youthful, muscular male who filled her car's gas tank each time she stopped at the service station down on the boulevard.
The blonde young man was nude, and. he held in his hand-instead of a gasoline hose-his beautiful, long, thick, passion-inflamed penis.
Patricia had never seen his penis, of course, so her imagination was really "working now. But she was confident he had a penis-all blonde, muscular young men did-and it had to be a beautiful penis. She simply couldn't imagine him possessing any other kind.
Anyway, he was approaching her with that beautiful great big penis in his hand, and she murmured in atone which was actually audible in the room, "Ohhh, Jack!" (Jack was indeed his name; she knew that much.) "Darling, I want it! Please give it to me!"
Jack was not the sort of boy who would turn such an invitation down. At least, in her imagination he was not. So he got onto the bed atop her.
No feeling up or kissing around was necessary in his artificial encounter. Patricia's thoughts and the touching of her loins and tits with her own soft, fluttering fingertips were enough. She was more than ready to "fee!" Jack's firm entering stroke.
She even told him so, breathing heatedly through clenched teeth: "Stick it in! Give it to me! Screw me hard!"
Jack was an obedient boy in her daydream, and he most certainly did stick it in. He rammed it into her as hard as ever he could, striking bottom on the initial thrust. And he grunted as she imagined a bull would grunt when he drove his whang into a heifer.
Paul had grunted with her that way once. He had figuratively pawed the ground and snorted, too. But that was a long time ago. Her legs were wide apart and she raised them, imagining that they were around the young gas-pump jockey's hips, while the first three fingers of her right hand took the place of the gas-pump jockey's pecker. She was ramming these bunched three fingers slowly in and out of her passion purse as she moaned and whimpered and writhed her ass against the bed.
Her red-tipped titties quivered, and her black hair spilled this way and that, around the pillow. She bucked and heaved as she used her hand more punishingly, more quickly. She cried, and gasped and squealed ... and then at last she fell limp against the bed, and Jack, her friendly service station attendant, dissolved into thin air, far more conveniently than real-life lovers ever do.
Her hand fell away from her molten loins. Her little nipples began to soften atop gently heaving breasts. She lay with one cheek against the pillow, her eyes closed, her puffy pink lips slightly parted.
She thought, Oh, what a creep I am! How could I carry on this way?
But she knew she would do it again. And again.
What else did she have in the way of physical excitement? Certainly precious little from Paul.
Their trouble had begun gradually, several years ago. Paul had started going out nights; sometimes he would call and say he wouldn't be home until late and would eat dinner out. Always he had a legitimate reason. There was a client to meet, a job to check up on, a vital estimate or bid to be prepared.
Patricia might never have become suspicious if it hadn't been for the fact that, at about this same time, he began showing less interest in her. This was something that a woman felt keenly, even more than her spouse's absences during the evening. A man could regularly be out at all hours, but if he came roaring home "with a glint in his eye and tumbled his wife into the sack or, assuming she was already asleep, rolled her over and awoke her with a sucking mouth firmly planted around a nipple, things were not too bad.
When Paul came home, he usually averted his eyes and, if she were to suggest that a little bedroom play would not find her unreceptive, he would plead tiredness. "It's been a long day, honey." That sort of thing.
He never approached her on the nights when he had been out.
Patricia was willing to concede that a man of thirty might be too tired at times, after he had met with a business client for a couple of hours after dinner. But always? And why did he wear the guilty look?
She might have hired a detective. Some wives would have. But Patricia took a different approach, one which was less costly and less embarrassing and better calculated to produce quick results.
She placed a call to the woman who was then her husband's secretary and invited her out for lunch, cautioning her not to tell Paul about it. She had reason to trust the girl, since she had worked for Paul's father before the old man died and was not the sort to play around with her boss or the sort that a boss would care to play around with-hornrimmed glasses, hair pulled back in a bun, service-weight stockings, and practically no chest at all.
The girl, whose name was Edith, met her at a nice restaurant not far from the office (but one which Paul disliked and never patronized).
Patricia put her cards on the table right away.
"I have reason to suspect he's playing around. If he is,. I know that you know it. Tell me, and I promise not to violate your confidence. If you refuse to tell me or don't tell me the truth and I find out later that you lied, I'll see that Paul fires you. Don't worry . . .I'll find away."
Poor Edith was on the spot. She liked her job more than she liked Paul as a man. (Tail-chasers offended her because, for a combination of physical and emotional reasons, her tail was neither chased nor chasable.) Also, Patricia's direct woman-to-woman approach suggested that she would keep her word about not revealing the contents of the conversation.
So Edith broke down and told.
Patricia thanked her, they finished their lunch, and Patricia went home and cried.
By evening her eyes were dry and she was reasonably composed. Did she thereupon do what most women would have done and confront Paul with the truth she had learned about him, possibly also ordering him out of the house or announcing that she was leaving, preparatory to bringing an action for separate maintenance or divorce?
She did not.
She didn't say a thing to Paul about what she had found out-not on that evening nor at anytime during the five succeeding years. The reason was a strange mixture of pride and practicality. Practically speaking, she wanted to stay married to Paul. She had two beautiful children by him, a fine home, all the money she wished to spend, a social life which was fulfilling. Her pride would not have permitted her to continue with that life once her husband's indiscretions were brought out into the open ... unless, of course, he would genuinely reform and never touch another woman again. Patricia didn't have enough confidence in herself to believe she could get him to do that. He had been a man-about-town "when she had lured him into marriage; she thought, after that, that he had changed, and perhaps he had for a while. But now he had reverted in a big way to what apparently was his true nature. Remembering the maxim about a leopard and his spots, she decided not to make herself more ridiculous than she already was by trying to achieve the impossible.
Her new knowledge did produce an important change in their relationship, however. She simply quit responding to him in bed. (He did, of course, continue to take her to bed on nights when he had not been out with some other woman.)
Patricia wasn't merely acting cold to "get back" at him. She felt cold toward him, and this couldn't help but find expression in her responses. She could have put on an act, as whores do, but why should she? He was screwing around, as it was. The quality of her performance in bed wasn't apt to affect that one way or the other. In fact, she suspected that he continued to take her to bed more because he felt it was expected of him, and possibly to allay her suspicions (if any) and/or his own feeling of guilt, rather than because of real desire for her fleshly favors. This certainly did not serve to endear her to him or to make her more responsive.
As time went on, Patricia could have taken a lover. Paul might even have been tolerant of it. Relieved, in fact. But she didn't, because again pride was involved. Her social life meant everything to her, and she didn't want to have it known that either she or her husband was living in a way society frowned upon.
She had learned from Edith that Paul's affairs were all with women he had met in his business life, which was a separate world from the society in which he and Patricia moved.
All things considered, she believed it was best to say nothing, to think about sex as little as possible, and to concentrate on her friends and children.
Unfortunately, however, sex continually insinuated itself into her consciousness, even though she didn't invite it. Her physical desire for Paul might be dead, but she had not been transformed into a frigid woman, by any means. Other men excited her a great deal-real men she met casually and the men who populated the cheap novels she smuggled into the house and kept in a bureau drawer, beneath her lingerie.
Something told her that the day was approaching when there would have to be a resolution of the inconsistencies in her life, but she had no glimmer of a notion as to how this might be done-until that evening when Paul said, "You know, Pat, this wife-swapping thing everyone's been writing about is really getting big. Lots of people are doing it."
The remark was so unexpected, since they hardly ever discussed sex any more, that Patricia nearly dropped the facial creme jar she was holding.
She gazed at her husband in the vanity mirror as he paced to the closet to hang up the trousers he had just stepped out of.
"What makes you say that?" she asked.
"I was talking with someone at the office. A casual friend. He remarked that he and his wife had tried it and found it fun. And they're a thoroughly respectable couple, as far as I know."
Paul watched her in the mirror as he unbuttoned his shirt.
She studiously lowered her eyes and resumed dishing goop out of the jar and smearing it on her face.
She didn't say anything, but the little wheels in her brain were beginning to turn.
"This fellow says that it's actually improving his marriage-he and his wife swapping with other couples, I mean. There's less tension and hostility between them, and they've learned new techniques. Best of all, they've come to accept each other as they are. They no longer feel they have to mask their inner desires and cravings."
Paul tossed his shirt aside.
"It's a revolutionary notion," he went on, "but if it works and brings people happiness, I suppose it shouldn't be condemned. What do you think?"
Patricia put down the jar with a hand that Had begun to tremble perceptibly. She started to speak. "I think it's ... " Her voice husked up and she cleared her throat. She began again, "I think it's apt to get this couple an unsavory reputation among the better people in the community. Of course, perhaps they don't care."
"Oh, I dare say they care what their reputation is. But the world's changing, Pat. What was looked upon as sinful just a few years ago is being accepted now. People like it that way. Morals are being brought down to earth, made realistic. People are questioning the old thou-shalt-nots and rejecting the ones which don't have legitimate application to the modern world."
"Are you saying," she asked, "that you would like to try this mate-swap idea?"
She watched in the mirror for his reaction.
He turned away to step out of his shorts, not so much because of modesty but because he preferred for her not to see his eyes at that moment.
"I'm saying it's an interesting idea," he replied. "I don't think it would hurt a couple who are mature and well-adjusted. like us, for instance."
Patricia stared at his naked back, his bare buttocks, his hairy legs.
Her voice was a little unsteady as she asked, "Who ... who in the world would a couple like us ... swap with?"
"Oh, there are possibilities, I dare say. If we were going to do it, we should choose a couple we don't mingle with socially. Perhaps someone I've met in business."
"The man and wife you were just referring to, you mean?"
Paul turned to face her, oblivious to the exposure of his privates.
"I don't think they'd be a good pair for us," he said. "The guy's forty, at least, and his wife must be about that old. Also, I've never met her."
"You had in mind a couple who are., .quite young?"
He smiled. "I had no one in mind, Pat. We're just talking. But, if we were to decide we want to do this, I believe I could interest a couple who would be ... let's say, attractive and compatible."
He strode to the bureau and got out fresh pajamas.
Patricia slowly turned the top onto her face cream jar. Swapping! Of course! That was the perfect solution to her very personal problem, provided the other woman's husband was attractive, and Pat had no doubt he would be. Attractive young women usually marry attractive young men, and Paul, cocksman that he was, would surely choose an attractive young woman. In fact, despite his disclaimer, he might very well have a couple in mind. Perhaps he would be able to set up the swap within the next day or so!
This possibility caused Patricia to tingle allover.
"We'll have to be very careful, Paul," she said slowly, keeping her voice under control. "This mustn't get out to any of our friends."
Now it was Paul's turn to be surprised. He'd had no notion that his wife would take to the idea this quickly and with such apparent firm resolution. It wasn't like her. Why, lately she had been practically sexless!
Perhaps he had misjudged the old girl. Perhaps her fire wasn't out, after all.
Perhaps Alene had hit the peg right on the head when she had diagnosed his and Patricia's problem as mutual dullness.
He turned to her and grinned.
"We'll be very careful, darling. And none of our social acquaintances will ever know." He decided to press forward to a conclusion of the matter while he had the opportunity. "What do you say I set up a swapping date for next Friday night?"
Patricia's inner trembling grew stronger. "Why, Paul, that's ... that's only two nights off."
"It is indeed, my dear." He stepped into his pajama bottoms.
"What makes you think you can interest another couple in the idea that quickly?"
He smiled wisely. "I don't believe I'll have any trouble. But, of course, I'd want to get a go-ahead from you before I mentioned it to anyone."
He waited, virtually holding his breath.
"You have it, Paul," she said, looking down and trying to project an image of calmness, though she was literally quivering inside. "I can be as avant-garde as anyone else."
My God! Paul thought. Will wonders never cease!
He felt so good right then, he could have kissed her.
7
AT THE AGE OF THIRTY-THREE, AFTER TEN years of marriage to a man who had given her great pleasure in the beginning but to whom she was no longer attracted in a physical sense, Patricia was about to know her second male. Her second male ever, for she had come to Paul a virgin.
The man whom fate had nominated to fulfill this role in her life was Kirk.
Patricia thrilled when she saw him. His red hair, his grin, his stalwart physique all turned her on. And he was young!
Kirk's reaction to her was equally enthusiastic. Though she was a few years his senior, she hadn't lost her looks by any means. Her true black hair, her smooth skin, her slim vibrance all contributed to an impression of feline sexuality which made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle a little.
Also, she was married to an important man, and this heightened her appeal, for some peculiar reason. Taking her to bed would be a little like humping the Queen of England or some big-name movie star. Most of Kirk's sexing career had been devoted to office girls and bar pickups.
The way the date was arranged assured the protection of the Homers' reputation among the squares in their social set. This made it possible for Patricia to relax with every expectation of enjoying herself.
Relax? Perhaps that was too strong a word. She felt reasonably secure from discovery, but she was literally jumping up and down inside with excitement.
The two couples met at a bar near the edge of the city, and from there they drove in separate cars to different motels. That gave the whole thing a delightfully wicked flavor, and it also avoided the embarrassment which Paul and Alene were afraid might arise if all four persons found themselves thrown in together some place and had to pair off under one another's watchful eyes. This way, they simply walked out of the bar, went to their respective cars and drove off. It was all so mechanical ... yet very exciting underneath.
Especially for Patricia.
What would this handsome young man be like? she wondered. Would he be as vigorous a lover as Paul had been in the early days of their marriage? How would he be built-as large as Paul? Perhaps even larger?
How would he react to her? That, perhaps, was the most stimulating question of all.
And how would she feel, being under a strange man? She had dreamed about it many times. Would the real experience live up to her fantasy-inspired expectations?
In the car, Kirk laughed and joked with her. She didn't sit particularly close to him, and he made no move to establish physical intimacy on the way.
Why should he? Once they arrived at the motel, this woman would be all his. He didn't have to feel her up or talk her into anything. The nice, neat arrangement which Alene and her boss had made had taken all the work and uncertainty out of it from Kirk's standpoint.
This was very handy in one way, but in another it was disconcerting. Kirk had always enjoyed the chase of strange quail-the tracking, the maneuvering, the guile-which frequently had to be employed, then finally the-well-aimed shot of sex appeal that brought them down. A lot of the sport-was gone out of it when two couples simply agreed between one another that they would swap.
Also, he still had not adjusted himself completely to the idea of Alene's being with another man. He couldn't get really worked up over it because she'd screwed around quite a bit before they were married and even had dated a man just the other night. Kirk still didn't know who that bastard was.
It made him uneasy, though, to think of her with a strange man now, while he was with the man's wife. It didn't seem right, somehow. His being with the wife, if she wanted to be with him, was natural enough and not morally wrong-or, if it was, he wasn't about to worry about it-but Alene's being with the woman's husband was something altogether different. At least, it was in Kirk's book, which just happened to bear a mid-Victorian copyright date.
Still, he was going along with the whole thing. Alene had him by the balls, so to speak, and he had to follow through. Also, and not incidentally, this Patricia babe was a nice hunk of flesh and it would have been a crime against nature to have passed her up.
So there they were, driving into a motel together. He registered and paid the tariff while she sat in the car.
Three minutes later they found themselves in a bedroom with the door closed behind them.
"Well!" Kirk announced, and grinned, rubbing his hands together.
"God!" Patricia breathed. "I'm nervous as I can be."
He laughed. "What's there to be nervous about, honey? You're a woman, I'm a man, we're alone together. Nature will take its course."
She forced a smile. "I suppose so. But we're expected to kind of help it, aren't we?"
"How about if I just help myself?" Kirk suggested boldly, and moved up to her, placing his hands at either side of her trim waist.
Patricia thrilled at his touch.
He pulled her to him with a jarring bump, and Pat felt as if she had just dropped twenty floors in a very fast elevator.
"Ooooh," she said with an undulating inflection, and tilted her mouth upward to receive Kirk's kiss.
His hard lips met her softly parted ones with breath-taking pressure, and he immediately inserted his tongue into her mouth. New quivers raced through Patricia. Her loins became more dewy. Her nipples hardened in her bra.
Kirk began to harden, also, as he brought his hands into play at Pat's bottom. He caressed her compact and resilient cheeks through her clothes, then pinched her stylishly short dress between his thumb and index finger at one side and lifted it, her thin slip coming also. He worked his other hand underneath both garments and directly onto her nylon-clad butt. He petted her bottom all around, enjoying its springy softness with the sheer silken fabric clinging to it, and then he dug under the rumpled clothing in the small of her back, stretched her panty elastic away from her skin, and ran his hand down inside her pants to fondle her ass directly.
"llhhh ... uhhh ... uhhh!" Patricia was saying in their kiss as her tongue swabbed the inside of his mouth. She hadn't kissed Paul this way in ages, but Paul hadn't gone at her with hammer and tongs, as this young man was doing, for a long while either.
Kirk sucked at Patricia's lashing, twisting tongue as he ran his middle finger up and down the hot groove which divided her two rear cheeks. He nudged her little anus and she twisted forward, pressing even harder against the hump which had risen in his jockey shorts.
Oh, this man was wild! So far he had surpassed the heroes of her dreams in his audacity. She was embarrassed and even a little fearful of what he might try to do before it was all over, but she was thrilled witless at the same time.
What a wonderful idea this had been, this swapping of partners with Paul's secretary and her husband!
Finally the kiss ended and Patricia took a step backward, forcing Kirk to withdraw his hand from inside her panties and let her skirt and slip drop back before he could get a look at her legs or whatever. She was rosy-cheeked and panting. Kirk's pants were bulging visibly.
"Come on," he said a little huskily. "Let's get our clothes off."
Sex with a strange man was going to be exciting, Pat believed, but she didn't care for the idea of undressing in front of him in a lighted room. It might be thrilling, in a way, but it was a bit much.
She decided to undress in the bathroom and come out in her slip. He could slide that off after they were in bed.
She turned to leave as he threw off his tie.
"Hey!" he said. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Into the bathroom to undress," she replied.
"Shit, why do that? Undress right here. I want to watch you."
His casual use of the naughty four-letter word gave Patricia a new blast of excitement. Her friends didn't talk that way, and Paul did only rarely, when he was teed off about something. Except for this and having read the word in some of the more daring books she had purchased, she hadn't encountered it since her little-girl days on the school playground.
She felt she should register disapproval, so she said mildly, "What a way to talk!" But the little glint in her eyes canceled out the reproach.
She turned toward the bathroom again.
"Hey, you didn't understand me!" Kirk exclaimed with his shirt half open. "I want you to undress right here."
Her face really began to flame now as she turned to look at him. Her knees felt a little weak. He was so strong and dominating that she felt she couldn't question his authority in the situation. Still, she didn't know how she could undress in front of him either. She wasn't, after all, a stripper!
Kirk solved her dilemma.
He grinned and said, "Aw, for Pete's sake!" Then he moved to her, turned her so he could get at the snaps and zipper of her dress, and in ten seconds he had both her dress and full-length slip pulled up and over her head.
Patricia stood in front of him in a black half-shell bra, matching briefs, and dusky hose with elasticized tops.
His gaze swept up and down her, and he let out a long, low whistle. "Hey, baby, you're all right! But you've still got too many clothes on. Let's get rid of that bra and have a look at your gorgeous tits!"
A fresh wild tingle traveled through Patricia from head to toes. Tits, indeed! Oh, how delicious! Now he was talking like a modern novel for sure. This proved what a sheltered life she had been leading all these years.
A man who talked this way just had to make love like a human dynamo, she concluded.
"Ohh, honey ... " she smoldered aloud as he pulled her to him and quickly wrenched open the hooks on the back of her brassiere.
He tossed the strapless bra away and stepped back to see what he had uncovered.
Not bad! She had smallish boobs, as he had perceived from the beginning, but they were appealing because of their milky whiteness, the soft jiggly quality they had while still standing erect, and the extraordinary tininess of her red, berry-like nipples. The nipples had hardly any redness around them-just a few little reddish bumps-and the rest of her bosom was all milky white, with very faint blue veins well beneath the surface.
"Yeah.. ! " Kirk growled with a chortle, and brought his hands up onto her tits, letting the round little nipples burrow into his palms as he squeezed and manipulated the pliant mounds on which they sat.
Patricia closed her eyes and gave herself completely to the needling thrills which coursed through her entire body but centered in the super-sensitive breasts he was fondling.
Tits, she told herself mentally. Oh, she liked to hear them called that. Perhaps she could goad this beautiful rugged male into saying that again and again.
He let her breasts go with a cute double bounce and slid his hands to her waist, catching the top of her black panties and stripping those flimsy briefs down. He stooped a little, then let go of them, and they slid the rest of the way to her ankles. He put his hands on her bare bottom and wiggled the shapely cheeks.
Patricia's lips were parted and she was panting.
How thrilling! How wonderful! This was better than anything she had read or imagined. Though her memory perhaps was not reporting accurately, she couldn't recall that Paul had treated her so excitingly even during their honeymoon.
"You lie down on the bed," Kirk said with passionate huskiness. "I gotta get the rest of my things off, then I'll be right with you."
She turned and walked dizzily, as if she were in a dream, the few steps to the horizontal piece of furniture which dominated the room.
She bent slightly from the waist and stripped the bedspread to the foot of the mattress, affording Kirk just a glimpse-a hint, hardly more-of the alluring darkness which resided high between her thighs. He hadn't yet seen her loins from the front because he was standing too close to her when he had slid her panties off.
He tossed his shirt away, quickly unbelted and dropped his trousers.
Patricia drew back the covers of the bed and slipped in. Again Kirk was teased by only a quick partial glimpse of her treasure.
He hopped from one foot to the other, pulling off his socks. He had only one garment left to go, and Patricia closed her eyes. It would be unseemly, she thought, for her to be staring at him when he took his underpants away and revealed the great spear of his manhood which would then rise to the ready. Better to wait until they were in bed together and she could feel it sliding in.
Sliding in.
Oh, God, she was overflowing with juice!
She heard Kirk rustling about, then moving up to the bed. Her heart thudded. Her breathing tightened.
Oh, come on ... get in, she thought.
Then suddenly the covers were being pulled entirely off her, and her eyes popped open. As Kirk drank in her beauty, she couldn't help but see his standing rod. Her first reaction was: Is that all there is to it?
"Mmmmmm ... cute!" Kirk growled, and he placed his hand directly on the mound of her sex.
The momentary disappointment she had felt in looking at his penis was more than overcome by the sharp knife-like thrill which went through her at his touch down there. Her legs eased slightly apart.
Kirk ruffled her fur piece up and down with his fingers. She gave a whining little cry and felt as if she would swoon with delight.
She parted her legs farther.
Kirk had an urge to get a real good look at the treasure she carried high between her thighs, so he took hold of both her knees from underneath, propping them up and parting them widely at the same time. Now she was split for him. Her succulent inner pinkness was on display, Man, that was something else-that wet pink pussy with the cute dark fur around it. The fur was darker than Alene's and the pussy was juicier, if anything. Christ, if he was an eating man, he would have dived for sure on that one.
But Kirk didn't take his meal at the Y.
He got onto the bed and on top of Patricia, both at the same time.
"Darling!" she exclaimed when this strange man loomed above her.
"Ready for it, baby?" he inquired.
The truth was that she was and she wasn't. She certainly could accomodate his little sticker right away. It would slide into her pulsating snatch like a toothpick into a jar of honey, but she wanted to be played with for a little while first. And she wanted to be talked to.
Maybe she would have to talk to hint a little in order to bring out his delicious nastiness.
She screwed up her courage and said, "Baby, don't you want to play with my ... tits, first?" She shuddered inwardly with naughty pleasure as she uttered the heretofore forbidden word.
He grinned. "Shoot, I did play with 'em. But I'll play with 'em some more, if you like." He pushed himself downward along her body. "In fact, I might even kiss those little devils."
"What little devils, Kirk?" she heard herself ask raspingly.
"Huh?" He looked up at her.
"What little devils? Tell me about them. Use all the words you know."
He grinned more broadly. Oh, so she was that kind! Mrs. Nicey-Nice just creamed her panties when anybody used a four-letter word with her.
Well,' he'd four-letter the hell out of her!
He'd give her a real blast.
He hovered over her lusciously pouting breasts and let his hands crawl up her sides to bracket them. He shook them gently back and forth as he said, "Hey, what a pair of pretty little tits you have!"
Patricia mewed softly and wriggled, arching her back to thrust her chest-hills high.
"Pretty little boobies."
"Yesss."
"Little knockers."
"Oh, Kirk!"
"Titties ... titties ... " he breathed and brushed his parted lips against first one tingling little nipple, then the other.
He slid further down, but he didn't kiss her any more. He explored with his fingers and watched what he was doing as he said. "You've got a cute little belly button on a fine, pretty belly. And look at all this lovely black pube hair." He ruffled it again, letting his middle finger gradually insinuate itself into her crack. "Oh ... yeah! How warm and wet! Baby, I think your wild Little cunt is just itching to get a cock inside it."
"Kirk!" she screamed.
He lunged forward, fully atop her, and drove his small rigid penis completely into her vagina on a single stroke. It felt very good to him-so good, in fact, that he couldn't keep from pumping very fast, right at the beginning, working his small shaft rapidly up and down in her happy hole.
"Ooooh!" exclaimed Patricia, thrilled that he should be so very passionate. She wished there was more of him, but what there was certainly was busy, and he was communicating great excitement to her as he stroked in her slippery, sliding warmth.
"Ohhh, baby ... darling ... come on, give it to me!" she cried.
Her legs lifted at either side of his pistoning flanks, and her stockinged heels came down against his tight, bobbing buttocks.
She was on her way to the passion crest, rising as she hadn't done with Paul for some time. And it was better than she was able to do when she lay alone on her bed and fantasized with the help of her fingers.
"Oh, screw me ... screw me!" she screamed, and kicked him with her heels.
Kirk cried out, he drove deep, and his little penis jerked inside her. At first, Patricia couldn't believe it. She kept rising and falling, but then he wasn't moving with her any more.
He was through!
"Kirk! Ohh, Kirk, come on!"
"Easy, baby," he chuckled. "Daddy's had it for the time being. We'll give it another go in a little while."
He pulled out.
"But you can't leave me like this I" she wailed.
She felt as if she was strangling-all worked up, her throat tight, her whole body hot, her vagina pulsating, her nipples about to burst.
And Kirk was climbing off the bed!
"Jesus!" she cried.
"Easy ... easy," he said again, looking down at her, his absurd little pecker hanging limply.
It was obvious that he wasn't going to do a thing to help her-not now, when she needed it most.
Paul had never left her this way. Lately she hadn't built toward a release with him at all but, in the early days, when she had, he had always brought her to a climax that was full and satisfying.
There was only one thing to do. Normally she wouldn't have thought of doing this in front of anyone, but she didn't find herself in a normal situation now. She was in trouble. She couldn't stand to remain hung-up like this while Kirk just lazed around and waited for strength to flow back into his deflated member.
She pressed three fingers tightly together and worked them into the hot, velvet-lined receptacle of her loins. As Kirk watched in amazement, standing beside the bed, she closed her eyes and began to slide her fingers in and out.
She cried, "Damn it, talk to me! Say something! Get dirty!"
And so Kirk got dirty with her. He mouthed every gutter sexual term he knew while he gazed in fascination as she masturbated.
Her hand flew faster and faster. She panted. She pinched her tits. And then her pelvis bucked upward and she let outa cry as she thumbed her little clitoris wildly and came.
At that moment, in another motel not far away, Paul lay flat on his back with Alene crouched atop him. He wasn't exactly flat, of course. One husky part of him projected rigidly upward and into a slippery-wet hot part of Alene which was wiggling as it slid up and down.
Her glorious breasts bounced like rubber balls. Her plump buttocks patted his thighs. His hands roved everywhere-up and down her flanks, across her back, to her belly, up to grip her hard, projecting nipples and to use them as Little handles for the swinging and rotating of her breasts.
"Ohhh, baby, that's great!" he growled. "Jesus, that's terrific!"
"You're ... telling me," she panted as she posted up and down. "Oh, God, what a prick you have! How I love it!"
And she proceeded to enjoy it with the utmost gusto as time stood still and the whole world was turned into a pulsating linkage of male and female flesh.
She had come once already, conventionally, with him atop her, driving his lusty rod into her that way. He had managed to withstand her passion storm, then had asked her to get on top of him, and she had happily done so.
They had been going at it this way for the better part of fifteen minutes, in fits and starts which had brought both of them very close to the point of release but had not ended the excruciating pleasure for either.
Their bodies were oiled with sweat. Alene's hair had come loose and was swinging delightfully this way and that, falling in front of her face. Paul had played handball, volley ball and skip rope with her tits. And still they boffed on, plumbing the depths of pleasure as his elongated hardness throbbed in the sliding, wiggling wetness of her warm embrace.
But all things must end, and finally Paul reached the point where he could withhold his ejaculation no longer. So he pulled Alene forward against his chest, gripped her spongy-firm buttocks in his hands, and bumped up into her with all his might.
To help assure her completion with him, he wiggled his middle finger into the tight little crevice of her ass.
She came, quaking and crying as his joy juice fountained up. Their bodies heaved together.
Finally they separated completely, and she fell away with a deep, blissful sigh.
Back in the other motel, Kirk was ready to have a second helping of Patricia, but she wanted no more of him. She had been lying on her back, completely exposed, trying to get back her strength after the climax which her fingers had induced. In watching her masturbation, Kirk had recuperated more quickly than he otherwise would have done. When Pat opened her eyes and saw that he was ready, she gathered her faculties and attempted to scramble off the bed.
"Uuh-uh, baby!" Kirk said. "We're gonna have another time around."
"The devil we are! You'll just leave me hanging again."
He was on the bed beside her now, trying to hold her in place. The more she fought him, the angrier he became. Finally she shrilled, "You're a lousy lover! You left me up in the air, and I had to finish myself. We're through!"
She was trying to lord it over him, Kirk thought, but she was no better than he was. She wasn't as good, in fact. She got a sneaky thrill out of dirty language, and she had diddled herself in front of him. She wasn't deserving of respect.
In fact, what she deserved was for him to flop her over into her belly and give it to her in the corn-hole.
Yes, by God, he would!
She didn't know exactly what he had in mind when he applied all his strength and rolled her over. But she very quickly found out. Kirk didn't believe in taking any more time with this method than he did with the other.
He parted her white little buttocks with his very rigid small rod, found the way with its tip ... and rammed.
Patricia shrieked.
She had never been screwed in this manner. This plus the fact that she was putting up resistance made the going very painful for her.
If it hadn't been for the fact that the room was soundproofed, her tortured cries doubtless would have brought the police within minutes to break up what had become a perverted party. But as it was, no one heard.
She screamed and beat her fists against the mattress, which was about all she could possibly do with him crouching atop her ass, and he had his way with her-pumping vigorously up and down in the tight clasping chamber which was not intended by nature for such treatment.
Had Kirk been a full-sized male, Patricia would have had a rougher and even more painful time of it. Even so, she suffered enough. Mercifully, he was able to last an even shorter length of time in her rear than he had lasted in her vagina.
When the climax struck him, it was ecstatic. Her muscles gripped him spasmodically, and he bucked, spitting his hot fluid into her. He moaned raggedly. Then he pulled out and climbed off her badly shaken form.
Patricia scrambled off the bed and rushed into the bathroom.
While perhaps there was something to be said for swapping, with the right person, this little party had turned out all wrong from Patricia's standpoint.
The upshot of it was that never in her life had she had greater appreciation for her husband as a sexual partner.
8
PATRICIA EXPRESSED HER APPRECIATION TO Paul as soon as they arrived at home. In the car she hadn't said much, but when she got him in the house, alone in their bedroom, she moved up to him and encircled his large body with her arms.
"How long has it been since I told you I love you?" she asked, her pretty face shining up at him.
He was flabbergasted.
"It's been quite a while," he admitted. "And I guess it's been quite a while since I said it too," he felt he had to add.
"I'm ready to say it right now if you are."
"Of course."
They kissed, and for the first time in years Paul felt the flickering of her tongue. It was just the tip which flickered lightly against his lips, not delving into his mouth but barely touching a few times, then moving, away. However, even this represented quite a change in attitude for Patricia.
It was, perhaps, an invitation for him to take the lead and thrust his tongue into her mouth. Perhaps then she would respond and they would enjoy a mutual deep kiss with all the passion-arousing potential such kisses could provide.
But Paul didn't pickup the lead and act on it. The fact was that he was in no mood for sex after the romp with Alene, which had satisfied him to the tips of his toes and, not incidentally, had taken a great deal out of him too. He wasn't altogether sure he could even get his rod up for Patricia now-assuming Patricia wanted his rod, which he still could hardly bring himself to believe.
Paul didn't draw the kiss out. After it had ended, he asked his wife, "Didn't you enjoy the evening?"
"In a way I did," she said. "But in the largest way I didn't."
"What does that mean?"
"In simple words, Kirk Barry is neither a considerate nor a skillful lover."
Paul had suspected as much. In fact, Alene had practically so told him. But he had to play dumb with Patricia.
"I'm surprised to hear that," he said.
"You probably assume it was my fault." She was looking away. "I realize that I haven't been very responsive toward you for some time. But I felt a response tonight with Kirk. I was well on my way toward reaching a climax, but he ... well, he was awfully fast."
"You mean, you didn't get there?"
"No, Paul." She couldn't bear to tell him she had satisfied herself by her own hands.
Inexplicably, his heart went out to her.
"Barry, that lout!" he said.
"I suppose you did very well with his wife." There was a sarcastic edge to her tone.
"Yes, I did. She's an excellent lover, and I believe I pleased her."
Again Patricia turned away.
Her statement that she had responded to Kirk and was on her way toward achieving a climax had impressed Paul. In fact, he couldn't get it out of his mind. She had been a cold dish of pudding with him for some time, but now, suddenly, she had become warmed up. It seemed that Alene's diagnosis of their marital problem-was correct, all right.
Paul felt himself drawn to Patricia right now. He didn't believe this was inspired merely by sympathy for her bad experience at Kirk's hands. There was a new openness about her attitude tonight, a willingness to confide in him.
Was there, he wondered, a possibility that she might respond to his lovemaking now, as she had responded to Kirk's? Could he perhaps give her satisfaction where the other man had not?
These were stimulating questions, as were a few others which occurred to him: If she were to respond after all this time and become a real wife to him again, what would be his attitude toward her? Would he show the same spark he had shown during the first years of their marriage? Would he really and truly want her again, as he believed he wanted Alene?
He had felt a vague sense of distress earlier, knowing she was with Kirk Barry, but this hadn't been strong enough to mar the pleasure he had gained with Alene, Now, the realization that his wife had been possessed for the first time by a man other than himself didn't trouble him.
He supposed this proved he really was broad-minded about sex, and it also seemed to indicate that whatever love he had for Patricia transcended physical considerations.
But physically would he desire her again if she were to act as if she truly wanted him?
He had to put this question to the test.
Five minutes ago, the idea of having sex with her had not appealed. Now it did. There was a new challenge in it, and he believed he could rise to the occasion in spite of the vigorous workout Alene had given him.
He touched Patricia's arm and turned her to face him.
"Shall we see," he asked, "whether you and I can make it now?"
"Oh yes, Paul! I want to." He began to undress her.
His hands were tender as they moved about her body, opening snaps and lowering zippers. Her clothes fell away.
She was fresh as she presented herself to him, having bathed before she left the motel. She was sore where Kirk had taken her in an unnatural way, but no real damage had been done. Kirk simply was not big enough to have hurt her.
She joined in the undressing process, removing her husband's clothes as he removed hers. She had an entirely different attitude toward him now. His infidelity with a number of women over a period of time didn't trouble her, since she herself had been unfaithful, if that was the word to use. She'd had a serving of the sauce the gander had enjoyed, and this made them even.
They sank to the bed together.
Paul's mouth covered hers as his hands cupped and fondled her tits. Her tongue rose to greet his warmly, caressingly. They kissed deeply, with feeling, and Paul's ardor rose.
He found her hand and carried it to his body, placing it on his shaft.
Oh, how different he was from Kirk! How much more he had to give her I
She caressed it lovingly, sliding the skin back and fondling its naked, swollen head. She had a desire to slide downward on the bed and place her mouth there. This was something she had never done, though she had wanted to do it during the first months of their marriage. She hadn't dared because she had feared Paul would think she was shameless. She hesitated now for the same reason. They still were not entirely themselves with each other.
But she was responding to him as she hadn't done in a long time.
Now, as he transferred his mouth from hers to a tingling crest of bosom and sucked the hard, rounded nipple deeply into his kiss, she felt the old thrills spreading through her-the ones he had used to implant, long ago. His questing fingers at her mound increased the excitement. She parted her legs and let him search her satiny hair-bordered slit with his fingertips. As his middle finger worked its way in, she knew she could climax with him tonight, if he would just take enough time with her.
Paul brought a flood of warm desire to her pussy as he stroked his finger in and out and rotated it gently, then twirled and twiddled her clit with his thumb and index finger.
Patricia moaned and writhed. She said, "Oh, darling, that feels heavenly! I want you! I really do!"
Her words pleased him a great deal, and his male sexuality responded to her expression of desire. It had been years since he had felt she really wanted him to insert his cock in her vagina. She had only tolerated it, and he had done it because it was expected of him.
Tonight she really wanted his throbbing pecker, and he wanted to give it to her.
He would give it to her now.
He rolled atop her, and their bodies seemed to come together of their own accord, as if his penis were a large iron nail attracted by magnetism in her cunt. And it was that way, in a manner of speaking. Tonight her body possessed the power to draw him, and his response seemed to strengthen that power.
She felt a great warmth spread over her as his magnificent shaft slid deeply inside her to fill her up. The encompassing warmth of her pussy was delightful. Alene's was no better. No woman's could possibly have been.
He started to stroke in and out of her happy haven, and his cock strengthened as he felt her rise to meet his thrusts. She wasn't acting. She really felt it. Her expression assured him of this as he watched her from his propped position on straight arms. She turned her head in blissful agitation on the pillow. Her gasping wet lips twisted.
He dropped his head and captured her open mouth for a deep, probing kiss. Her tongue danced with his. She moaned pleasurably.
He felt her satiny legs rise to lock themselves around his back. She tightened this grip rhythmically to pull their bodies firmly together each time he drove up her avenue of love.
Wonder of wonders, she was getting there! After years of not having had a climax beneath a man, she was approaching one now with Paul.
She wanted to make it more than anything in the world. She had to make it!
Her words began to exhort him, along with the clinging sliding warmth of her vagina and the serpentine contractions of her legs.
"Ohh, screw me, darling! Screw me strong! Drive that big cock into me-I love it!"
If Paul had needed anything else to convince him that he had his wife back, in the fullest sense, this was it. She had never talked this way to him before. Never. He was most happily shocked, and he responded by driving his passion piston harder and more rapidly than before. He put all his heart and soul behind it and gave her the screwing of her life.
She quaked and cried, and suddenly she tightened all over, hanging momentarily at the brink of the precipice down which she dearly wanted to fall.
He sensed her need for an even greater effort on his part and he supplied it, outdoing himself. Her bed, which was of the finest construction and usually made no sound except a soft wheezing when two bodies pumped atop it, began to creak as he drove his eager shaft with blinding speed in the lubricated channel of her love. Her little clitoris was rubbed this way and that so rapidly that it telegraphed to her brain a more delirious titillation than she had ever known.
What subconscious resistance she still harbored toward her husband was melted in the inferno of their mutual passion. Her sexual switch was tripped. She came gloriously, fully, deeply-sobbing and gripping his back with her arms and legs as her ecstatic cunt pulsated around him. He shot his charge deeply into her and groaned.
They had made it in a beautiful way, more deeply and thrillingly than either of them could remember having made it together before, and they lapsed into a delicious afterglow which clung for many minutes and warmed their hearts.
If this was what swapping could accomplish, perhaps it shouldn't be set aside, they both agreed later. But Paul no longer thought of it as merely an excuse to make possible his possession of Alene. From now on it would be the way to a deeper and fuller life for Patricia and himself.
9
PATRICIA WAS THE ONE WHO ARRANGED THEIR next swapping party, and she did it with a man for whom she had long lusted: The handsome young blonde who serviced her car at the nearby gas station.
It was extremely audacious to make such a bold proposal to someone she hardly knew, but this heightened the excitement. Also, it was safer, she believed, than involving members of her own social set.
It took quite a bit of courage to bring herself to make the pitch to the lad, but once she embarked upon it she found it amazingly easy. He leaped to the bait like a hungry trout.
This was how Patricia did it:
She dressed carefully before leaving the house to drive to Jack's station. Carefully, in this instance, meant in a very feminine way and in a way which would make possible the maximum revelation of her physical points of interest such as:
Her tits.
And her thighs.
And perhaps, even, a fringe of black-haired pussy.
She wore no underwear whatever, except for stockings and a garter belt. Her skirt was the shortest one she owned. She topped this off with a devilish little blouse that had ruffles along its deeply cut neckline. There was nothing cheap about it, though, since the material was fine and the styling clever.
She dabbed a little perfume between her tits, behind her elbows and knees, and high on the inner slope of each thigh-just the merest touch at each place. Then she got into her car and drove to the station.
Jack worked the place with a partner, but she had noticed that he always made it a point to serve her whenever she drove in. He would do this even though he was taking care of another car at the moment. He would immediately come over, give her a smiling greeting, and ask her if she would mind waiting while he polished the other customer off. Of course, she never minded.
The fact that he went out of his way to take care of her instead of letting his partner have the privilege suggested that he might have a secret lech for her. This encouraged her in her scheme for setting up a swap date with him.
There was one central point of uncertainty, however: Was Jack married or single? Patricia didn't know. She had noticed that he wore no ring, but many married men didn't. If he wasn't married, perhaps he could be persuaded to involve a girl friend in the swap. The articles she had read on swapping indicated that the sport was becoming almost as popular among dating couples as among those who were married.
When she arrived at Jack's station, she was happy to note that there were no customers on hand at the moment. Jack was there, as always at this time of day.
She pulled up to the pumps, stopped her car and waited, her dark eyes trained on the office.
Jack and his co-worker, Harry, were lounging inside at the moment, and Harry was in the midst of spinning a dirty story.
". . .So the guy said, 'Well, if you don't know the difference between a staple and a screw, that just goes to show you've never been stapled."
He laughed, but Jack didn't join in.
He was gazing through the window instead. "Hey, man, look at that. This makes my day."
Harry leaned forward and squinted. "The black beauty, huh? You think her hair is really that dark, or does she get it out of a bottle?"
"I sure as hell would like to find out," Jack replied, rising.
"Why don't you ask her for a date? You'd be surprised how many married dames screw around these days."
"Ah, she's a little rich for my blood. I like to look at it and wish, though."
"Shit, looking and wishing never got a guy a friggin' thing!"
Jack grinned at him and headed out of the office.
Patricia's eyes remained trained on him as he approached. His tan shirt was open at the throat, revealing a few curly blonde hairs on his manly chest. The matching tan pants were snug, especially at the crotch. He wore his equipment at the left side and, from the hump it made, Patricia guessed he was built at least as big as Paul.
He came around the rear of the car and walked up on the driver's side. "Morning, Mrs. Horner," he grinned. (Oh, she adored the way a lock of his thick golden hair fell against his forehead!) "Nice day, isn't it?"
He had no sooner said this than he realized it was an even nicer day than he had thought. Good Christ, he could see right down into that blouse she wore, and it looked as if she had nothing at all around her cute, satiny bazooms! If it wasn't for the friggin' ruffles on the blouse, he could tell for sure.
"It's a lovely day, Jack!" she rhapsodized. "Except for one thing-I'm having a little trouble with my engine."
Jack tore his gaze out of titty-land and raised it to her face. "What kind of trouble?" His grin betrayed his nervousness now. The long look he'd had of Patricia's breastworks was threatening to produce a complication at his loins.
"There's a funny little noise," she said. "I don't always hear it. Maybe it won't do it right now, but I'll start the engine, and you lean inside here and put your ear under the dashboard. Maybe you'll notice something."
Jack cleared his throat. "Okay, Mrs. Honer."
I'll sure as hell notice those legs of hers, he thought. Jesus, her skirt's just about up to the top of them. I wonder if, when I get down there, I'll be able to see her pants.
Patricia had her legs close together. The hem of her skirt crossed at the ribbing on her hose. When Jack leaned into the car and bent in front of her, she drew her legs to the right, still keeping them together, so he would have room to sprawl underneath the dashboard. Once he was in that position, giddy excitement coursed through her as she slowly slid her left leg along his body, opening her thighs. Her skirt pulled toward her lap, deserting the tops of her stockings completely.
Jack had his ear close to the running engine, his face directed toward the opposite side of the car. He hadn't heard anything out of order.
He turned to tell her so and ... whop!
He found himself staring up her smooth, white, lovely thighs to the spot where they converged-the dame wore no pants at all! He gazed with suddenly leaping lust at her glossy black thicket and the lips beneath it.
"M-m-missus Horner!" was all he could say as his ardent vision stroked the line of her split.
"Well?" she murmured throatily. "Do you hear anything?"
He might well have answered, No, but I certainly see plenty!
He didn't, however. He was too agitated. His cock had sprung to vibrant hardness in his pants, and the sight before him, coupled with the intoxicating perfume which drifted subtly to his nostrils, held him spellbound.
Patricia decided she had shown him quite enough for the moment. As it was, she was trembling all over, and the bottom felt as if it had fallen out of her belly. If she felt his gaze on her down there for as much as a moment more, she would probably be tempted to ask him to bang her on the oily floor of his garage.
She twisted in her seat, bringing her heated thighs together, and she asked shakily, "Well, do you think my motor's all right?"
"You're motor's perfect!" he exclaimed in a husky tone, and backed out of the car.
Only when he began to straighten up did he remember his blasted hard-on. He couldn't stand upright beside her like that. She would be sure to notice, and she might yell for the nearest cop!
Thinking quickly, he said, "Ooops," and dropped to one knee on the concrete beside the car.
Keeping the door open, she looked down at him anxiously. "What the matter?"
"It's a trick knee joint I have," he lied, grinning up. "I injured it playing football.. Every once in a while it goes out."
"Well, for goodness sake!" Patricia fell for the story. "Do you need some help?"
"No thanks, ma'am. It'll be all right in a minute."
He was blushing furiously and giving silent orders his recalcitrant cock. The more he ordered, the more his hardness seemed to hang on. What else could he expect, with her gorgeous legs spread out in front of him, stripped almost to her lap? Even though he couldn't see between them now, there were two big beautiful slabs of naked thigh-flesh on display, traversed by white garter straps which tugged the tops of her stockings.
"So you don't think there's any reason for me to worry about my engine?"
"None at all." He forced himself to look down at the concrete driveway.
After an embarrassing twenty or thirty seconds, he had calmed sufficiently to permit him to scramble to his feet and head for the back of the car. He called over his shoulder, "The usual?" .
"Yes, Jack. Premium."
You sure are, baby, you sure are, he thought as he snatched the hose nossle off the pump.
Patricia was not through working on him yet. She slid out of the car and walked slowly to the water fountain which was Just outside the door of the office, letting her curvaceous buttocks twist and roll in her thin skirt. She aimed her bottom directly toward him and bent to take a drink. She knew that her skirt was pulled way up at the back, probably enough to let him see above her stockings again.
She was right. Jack gazed, and his hard-on threatened to come back.
Holy Mother of Jesus! he thought. She's really putting on a show today. Why?
He still couldn't believe that this well-to-do imagine dish was trying to make him. Shit, he was only a peon!
Patricia straightened up from the water fountain and-walked into the office. Harry had long since gone to the garage to finish lubing a Plymouth that was on the rack, and Patricia found herself alone.
Jack-would be in very shortly, however. He would want her credit card so he could make out the charge ticket for the gas.
After he finished servicing the car, he appeared smiling in the office doorway. "That'll be five-twenty, Mrs. Horner."
"All right." She opened her purse and withdrew her card. She handed it to him, making certain that their fingers touched.
Electric sparks seemed to dance between them. Her flirting had gotten both of them worked up.
Jack completed the ticket and placed it on the desk in front of her. He said, "If you'll just sign here, Mrs. Horner ... "
He handed her a pen, and once more she let her fingers contact his.
When she bent to sign the charge slip, she twisted her body so that she directly faced him. Her frilly blouse gaped, and there before Jack's thrilled eyes, with no ruffles obscuring them now, hung the complete russet-tipped globes of her tits, quivering gently as she moved her arm in signing the ticket.
Once more Jack's rod thickened and came up.
"Here you are," she said, straightening with a smile to hand the pen and charge slip to him.
His expression was so helplessly flustered that her gaze dropped. Oh, God! He was up like a flagpole inside those pants!
"I'm ... I'm sorry," was all he could manage to get out.
She smiled at him, her own cheeks growing pink. "I'm not," she said. "I wonder, Jack, if you'd be interested in coming to a party with my husband and me?"
"Y-your husband?"
"Yes. By the way, are you married?"
"No." He swallowed hard, wondering what in hell she was driving at.
"You must have a girl friend, then."
"Yeah," he croaked.
"Bring her. I want to warn you, though, this is going to be a swap party."
"A what?"
"Swap party," she repeated with a smile. "You and your girl friend will swap with my husband and me."
"Golly, Mrs. Horner!"
"What's the matter," she said, pressing her lithe, curvy form against him, "doesn't that interest you?"
"Gosh, yes! I just never got an invitation like that before."
She moved a little against his front, letting him feel the unfettered rolling of her breasts. She felt something, as well-the thrust of his firm young pecker!
"Do you think your girlfriend will be willing to go along with it?"
"Golly, I don't know, Mrs. Horner."
"Please call me Patricia. Or Pat, if you like. My husband's in his middle thirties, but he's quite good-looking and an excellent lover. He'll show your friend a very good time."
"Well, I'll ... I'll see what I can do, Mrs. . ... I mean, Pat." He grinned nervously.
"Let's set it for Friday night. You call me as soon as possible and let me know, will you? My number's in the book."
Jack agreed.
After she had driven out of the station, he walked into the garage where Harry was still squirting grease into the joints of the Plymouth.
"Man, you'll never believe what just happened," Jack said, walking on air.
Harry glanced at him. "I probably won't, but try me."
"That beautiful bitch, Mrs. Horner, invited me to take her to bed."
"Hah! You see what I mean? Some married women are horny as hell."
"But it's not just that." He went on to relate the whole story.
As she drove home, Patricia berated herself for having behaved in a perfectly shameless fashion. But she wasn't sorry in the least; Shameless or not, she had achieved her objective. Jack would come to the party, she was sure, and he would bring a succulent young thing for Paul. Then she and that beautiful blonde Adonis would have a whole night to roll around on a mattress. She would let him into her every which way, maybe even the way Kirk had gone. It wouldn't hurt so much this time, she believed.
She resolved to do something else, as well-she would go down on him! It was something she had always wanted to practice on a man, and Jack looked like a perfect subject.
Maybe, if she was very, very lucky, he would return the favor.
Her thighs burned at the thought, and she ejected a veritable flood of lust lotion. But somehow or other, this didn't help to put out the fire.
Jack Lindstrom and his date, Suzie Peters, arrived at the Homers' party feeling very unsure about what they were getting themselves into.
Jack had leveled with Suzie, of course, concerning what Patricia had told him. It wouldn't do to have her back out at the last minute, because he had gained the very clear impression that his possession of Patricia was contingent upon his bringing someone for her husband to lay. Suzie at first had balked, but he later decided that this had been mostly for effect. She quickly showed an interest which grew into fascination. Her fascination, like his, was in large part inspired by the uncertainty of the situation. Neither of them had ever tried anything like this before.
Jack had been screwing Suzie on a more or less regular twice-a-week basis for a couple of months. They were supposed to be engaged, but neither of them took this very seriously. Jack was twenty, Suzie was only eighteen, and neither of them was anxious to get married. But they both were anxious to screw, and engagement furnished a kind of moral justification.
When the door opened and the Homers saw the young couple standing on their porch, Paul's interest surged to a height which equaled that of Patricia, who had been rhapsodizing about what a wonderful "young blonde boy" she had found.
Suzie was just as blonde as Jack. She wore a sleeveless shift dress which ended well above her knees and dipped at the front to reveal her tender young cleavage. Paul estimated her figure at 36-23-35, which would have been great even if he was an inch or so off at any sector.
Jack wore slacks, a sport jacket and turtleneck shirt.
Paul was in slacks and polo shirt. Patricia wore exotic floral lounging pajamas which fit loosely everywhere but at the fanny and bust.
The Homers happily invited their young guests in, and the liquor was served immediately. Rock music blasted from the hi-fi. The nervousness of Jack and Suzie soon dissolved in booze and easy conversation. Even though their host and hostess were quite a bit older than they, the married couple certainly had a swinging, young outlook on life and they were as genial as any guests could want. Also, Suzie found that she was attracted to Paul. He reminded her somewhat of her daddy, though Paul was a little younger. The idea of going to bed with him had a naughty appeal, and, as long as Jack thought it was all right, why shouldn't she do it? As for Jack's bedding Mrs. Horner, it wouldn't hurt, Suzie figured, to let him have a change from her brand of nookey. It wasn't as if he would become involved with an older woman like the Horner broad.
The foursome drank and danced and, as the hour grew later, th,e glow from the liquor and the excite-men of rubbing their bodies against each other (or just watching each other gyrate) put everyone in the mood for sex.
Finally Paul announced, "Well, it's bed time! Jack, you take Patricia into the master bedroom, and I'll take Suzie into the guest room with me." He paused and looked around, adding, "I assume that's all right with everyone."
There were nervous, excited glances cast back and forth but no objections offered, so the couples paired off.
Patricia's head was in a happy, boozy whirl when Jack closed the bedroom door, shutting them apart from the others. He was nearly as high, and all he could think about were the glimpses he'd had of her tits and pussy the other day. Now he was going to see those goodies close up, and for as long as he liked. What's more, he would get to enjoy them to his heart's content, which meant sucking hell out of the tits and screwing her little fur-trimmed box until he couldn't keep his rod up any more.
Patricia spun around next to her bed, laughing, then dropped atop it, bouncing on her fanny and letting her arms and legs spread-eagle in the air.
Jack gazed at her lustfully and tore at his clothes. The slickest way, he had decided, was to strip himself first. She had nothing on, he knew, underneath those crazy pajamas, and he could make short work of them after he got on the bed.
In the other bedroom, Paul was adopting the caveman approach. He had always had the urge to forcefully ravish a sweet young thing and, from the way this cute blonde was looking at him, she probably wouldn't object to a forceful ravishing at all. In fact, her naughty blue eyes seemed to be inviting it.
So what he did was to swing her up in his arms and, as she squealed with delight, he dropped her squarely in the middle of the large double bed.
"Ohhh, Paul!" she cried between happy gasps. "You're too much!"
He laughed and dropped beside her, wiggling her dress and skimpy slip all the way up. She wore silken white briefs which concealed what he hoped would be her natural blondeness.
He paused not a moment before pulling her panties down, and ... yes, indeed! She was as blonde as Miss Sweden, the wispy hairs between her legs being exactly the same golden hue as the hair on her head.
Paul spread her legs wide apart, lifting her knees at the same time, then he fell to the V of her thighs, where tender pinkness nestled amid her butter-colored curls.
He ravished her first with his mouth as she locked her legs around his neck and writhed to the sucking, tonguing ecstasy of his kisses. She had never been eaten before. God, these older men really knew how to make a girl go crazy!
Paul's tongue lapped deeply into the juicy pink feast, and his rod strained for freedom inside his slacks and shorts. Suzie came, bumping her sweet twat against his face and keening, but he kept right on until he had enjoyed his fill of her.
Then he straightened up and rolled her onto her belly.
My God, she thought, what's he going to do now?
Her head was going round and round, and she was tingling all over.
He opened the back of her dress, dug for the hooks of her bra and got them open too. He gazed at her stunning white fanny, which contrasted so delectably with the tawny tone of the rest of her, then he raised his right hand and brought it down with a smack against those lovely hemispherical mounds of flesh. They bounced delightfully, quivering all over.
"Paul!" she squealed. "Ohhh, daddy!"
He spanked her again and again-not too hard, but hard enough so that she really felt it-and then he boosted her up on her hands and knees.
A sudden fear knifed through her as she anticipated his attack upon her ass-hole, but the attack didn't come. Afterward, in looking back, she wasn't sure if she was disappointed or relieved-at the moment, however, she felt nothing but happy when she felt his passion prod nose its way into her well-oiled vagina and begin to pump.
Paul pushed her dress up to her neck, dropped her bra ribbons down her arms, and milked her dangling, elongated boobies as he hunched.
By this time, much had happened in the other ' bedroom.
Patricia had watched Jack strip to the skin, and the sight of his young, rock-hard pecker shoving out and upward from the golden bush at his loins had made her wild with desire. Un-like her husband and Kirk Barry, Jack's instrument of love had no foreskin covering its head, and the head was a luscious purplish-red color. It was swollen to immense size. In fact, the shaft which backed it up was tremendous, as well. The young man was hung like a palomino stallion!
When he reached the bed, with the intention of pulling off her pajamas and ramming his tool deep up into the velvet pouch between her thighs, Patricia was ready for him-and she had something altogether different in mind ... at least, for starters.
She said hoarsely, "Lie on your back!"
"But, baby ... "
"Lie on your back, goddamn it! I have to have that beauty!"
As he lay down, quivering with excitement over what she seemed to be hinting at but he could hardly bring himself to believe, Patricia grasped him with both hands, one set of soft white fingers going underneath to cup and caress his hot balls while the other encircled his lusty rod. Her face dropped.
She tried to slip her mouth entirely around his throbbing head but found she couldn't accomplish this, so she had to content herself with sliding her lips against as much of it as they would hold-down and up, down and up-while he squirmed and beat his fists against the bed.
Now she licked his pecker all around, going down one side of it and up the other. Her tongue tip danced against the sensitive nerve endings of his corona, then touched him at the very apex. She wrapped her lips around just this part and sucked.
"Oh, Jesus!" he cried. "You'd better stop it or I'm gonna come!"
She got the message through the excited rushing in her ears, and she stopped. She wasn't sure she would like to have a man finish with her that way, and she sure as hell wasn't ready to put Jack out of action yet.
Kneeling beside him, she pulled up the top of her pajamas and tossed them away, letting her pretty breasts bobble before his eyes. Then she writhed out of the pajama pants, exposing the lovely black triangle which he had been seeing in his memory for the past several days (though, of course, the memory image had not been triangular in shape).
She vaulted astride him and his glorious rigid cock slid all the way up into her.
She laughed and raised a hand to loosen her hair while Jack eagerly cupped her tits and ran his thumbs and index fingers out to their rounded red nipples, which were hard as cranberries now. Her long black tresses fell down, and they swung this way and that as she tossed her head and began the happy work of bouncing up and down atop him, polishing his passion pole to a fare-thee-well.
At about this time Paul was rolling Suzie onto her back. He hadn't come yet, and she was halfway to her second climax.
"Hurry ... hurry!" she cried, and he surged atop her.
"Stick it in!" she squealed. He stuck it in to the hilt.
He began to thrust and nearly withdraw, thrust and nearly withdraw, patting her cute little belly on each downward stroke, mingling his brown hair with her gold, bumping his balls against the bottom swells of her buttocks. He planted his elbows well out from her sides and cupped her quivering pink-tipped titties with his hands, holding them loosely so he could feel them shake as he transmitted stroke after blissful stroke deeply into her. Her stiff nipples bobbed and rubbed against his .fingers.
He brought the young blonde to a quaking, crying finish just ahead of him, then he shot his white-hot semen into her.
In the other room, things hadn't worked out quite as well. Patricia had excited Jack so tremendously that he hadn't been able to hold out until her finish, and she felt him geyser into her before she was even close.
"Keep going ... keep going!" she pleaded in a sobbing voice.
But actually she was the one who'd been furnishing all the action. Jack had just been standing up in there. And now he wasn't standing any more. His stalk had wilted down to nearly nothing as she continued to try to move upon him. When her vexation drove her to more frenzied motion, he slipped out altogether.
"Ohhh, God!" she wailed. "What am I going to dooo?"
Jack hated to see a lady suffer. Particularly this lady, who had been so very good to him.
Somehow he had the notion that she wouldn't mind if he were to do for her what she had done for him a little while ago-in other words, give her a blow job. Blow jobs were not exactly his specialty, but he had tried them a couple of times and the redolence hadn't killed him. Somehow he felt it might be rather nice with this broad to get down there and root around a little.
"Don't worry, honey," he said, helping her off him and onto her back. "I know what you need."
And with that he shoved her lovely legs far apart and bowed his head. Her pinkness was awash, and he knew that a part of the moisture had been supplied by him. That thought didn't particularly please him, but he supposed the stuff wasn't poisonous. Lots of people of both sexes had been known to eat it and live.
He pressed his mouth firmly against Patricia's steamy swamp and delved with his tongue.
Patricia had never experienced this exquisite pleasure before, and its impact-both physical and psychological-hit her with such force that she climaxed thrillingly right away. It was like a bomb going off deep inside her and igniting lesser explosions all along her nerves. Momentarily, she blacked out.
When she came to, Jack was sitting up and grinning at her. "Was it all right?" he asked with absolutely no need to do so. Her response a few moments before and her expression right now told him.
She said, "Ohhh, wonderful!"
"Well, now we've got another problem," he said, still grinning, "What's that?" she breathed.
"Look." He pointed down at himself.
Patricia twisted to look, and she was pleased by what she saw. "Darling! You're up again already!"
"Kissing you down there had that effect on me."
"Well, climb aboard. I think I could go again right now too,"
He mounted her and proved that her supposition was correct.
This one was a long, rigorous romp that had them both gasping and clawing before they came, exactly together, in a mutual explosion of such intensity that it might very well have launched a rocket to the moon. In fact, they felt as if something like that had happened, and they were the passengers on the ride.
Later that night, Paul and Suzie crept into the room where Patricia and Jack were asleep on her twin bed. The other couple lay down on his bed. He turned on the lamp on the table in between.
Patricia sat up with a start. "Oh, nooo!" she cried, but she wasn't actually displeased with the idea.
Jack awakened then.
"Let's have a race," Paul suggested jocularly to his wife. "You with Jack, me with Suzie. But instead of seeing who can finish first, the winners will be the couple who take the longest."
"I'll go for that," Patricia said. She nudged Jack. "Are you willing to try?"
"I guess I can make it," he said through a yawn.
Suzie, watching him, laughed.
"One stipulation," Paul announced. "Cock must not leave pussy at any time."
"Agreed!" Jack stated, wide awake now, and he swung into the saddle of Patricia's opening thighs.
He speared her with gusto as Paul climbed atop Suzie and did the same. Both couples began to hump.
Paul and Suzie won the race, but that was all right with Jack and Pat. The latter pair had both reached completion and what, after all, was more important than that?
They all slept in the same room for the remainder of the night. In the morning, Paul and Suzie showered together. While that was going on, Patricia suggested to the freshly aroused young man who enfolded her in his embrace: "There's one way we haven't tried. If you promise to be gentle, I'll let you do that ... provided you're interested, that is."
It was the best offer Jack had received so far that day, so he helped Patricia turn onto her belly and mounted the backs of her thighs.
"Easy ... " she hissed in excitement as he thumbed her cute buttocks apart.
He fell forward, guided his rod by hand, found the soft anal aperture with its tip ... and began to shove.
"Ohhh, God!" Patricia cried, digging her hands into the mattress at either side of her.
He stopped. "Too much for you?" he asked.
"Do it ... do it!" she ordered decisively through clenched teeth.
Jack did, shoving and twisting and gaining purchase slowly. But gain he did. Enter her he did. And he began to pump, deepening his strokes all the time.
It hurt like the devil, but strangely Patricia reveled in this, and she came while Jack was in her.
Paul and Suzie emerged from the bathroom while it was still going on. The young blonde stared with wide eyes. Paul was nearly as amazed, but his wife's blissful expression told him she was not being taken advantage of.
Jack humped on and finished with the other couple watching.
It was a fitting conclusion to a wild and woolly night.
10
BOTH KIRK AND PATRICIA OPPOSED ANOTHER swap between the Homers and Barrys. Consequently, each couple had to look for kicks elsewhere.
This didn't particularly distress Paul, who was too pleased by the rebirth of passion between his wife and himself to grieve over the loss of Alene from his bed ... particularly when, with his wife's consent, he could occasionally screw such delightful creatures as Suzie and, as happened on a later date, the girl friend of Jack's partner at the gas station, who, upon receiving Jack's glowing report on the romp at the Horner house, wanted to get in on the act.
As for Alene, she began to prospect among her co-workers at the office.
It was necessary to approach the matter carefully so she would not earn herself a bad reputation among the squares in the place.
Her first target was Ed Mathews, the lean and good-looking estimator who had a slow but sincere smile and a nice way about him. She liked the thought of hopping into bed with Ed.
In fact, the idea of playing the field once more, after her year of marriage to Kirk, was appealing in the extreme. Who knew but what she would find someone even more satisfactory as a lover than Paul had been.
The only real qualm she had about the whole thing was Kirk's inadequacy. He was apt to offend the wives of the men she dated-but then, that was their lookout, wasn't it? On the other hand, if they were particularly fast in their sex responses, he might please them just fine. He did have considerable charm, in his way.
Ed had flirted mildly with Alene, but she had never given him any encouragement, so lately he hadn't shown much interest. She felt it wouldn't be difficult to fan the spark, however.
She had a magazine which featured an article on swapping, written by a psychologist. This was stashed in a bottom drawer of her desk.
On an occasion when she knew Ed was going to come over to see her about a report she was typing, she took the magazine out, opened it to the story in question, and placed it face-up next to her typewriter.
Ed came over-and the article immediately caught his eye, of course.
"Hey," he said, "don't tell me you're interested in this sort of thing."
She smiled up at him. "Why? Are you?"
"Man, I would be if I knew another couple who was."
The psychologist, and others who had written on the subject, were right when they talked about the smoldering interest so many people had in the subject. Ed apparently was a prime example.
Alene said quietly, "Kirk and I have discussed it. What's your wife's attitude?"
Ed grinned down at her. "She'd go along."
"Call me some evening. Maybe we can set something up."
He squinted. "Do you mean it?"
"On one condition-there's to be no talk around the office."
"You know me, honey," he said, obviously excited.
"I hope I do," was her answer.
She did. Ed didn't blab about the conversation, and that very night she received a call from him.
"I've talked to Mary, my wife, and we're ready to swing. How about setting a date?"
She kept him on the line while she cleared it with Kirk.
"What kind of a pig is this Mary?" he wanted to know. (It was a good thing Alene had her hand firmly over the mouthpiece of the phone.)
"She's not a pig. I met her once at a company picnic-you know, that Saturday afternoon when you had a hot prospect to sell? You were probably selling a woman on going to bed with you. But, anyway, Mary's a cute redhead."
"Big tits?"
"Average. I would say her figure's well balanced all the way around."
"Okay," Kirk agreed. "What have I got to lose?"
"That's my tiger," Alene said, and returned to the line. "Ed, is Saturday night okay for Mary and you?"
"Sure thing, Alene. Where's the party-your house or ours?"
"Here is all right. Bring a bottle, hmm."
"Will do."
Alene hung up and looked at Kirk with a smile. "It's so easy," she said.
He replied, "I gotta hand it to you, baby. I used to think I was quite the operator when it came to sex, but you've got me beat all hollow."
Alene wasn't sure she appreciated the compliment, but she said nothing. The prospect of the impending date with Ed and Mary was too exciting to let any disputes arise between herself and Kirk.
The party turned out to be a blast.
Fun-loving Kirk proposed that Alene and Mary do a strip act to a Tijuana Brass LP, and surprisingly Ed went along. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising, considering the amount of liquor he had consumed.
Mary was just about even with her husband in this respect, and she agreed to perform before both men. So what could Alene say? She couldn't have refused, even if she had wanted to.
Kirk set the needle at the beginning of the record, and the girls got up to do their act.
Minsky's was never like this.
In the first place, both girls were tipsy. Neither one of them had a really good sense of rhythm. And as for costumes, both lacked the basic tools of a stripper's trade-G-string and pasties.
All this merely added to the fun.
The men grinned and clapped to the music as the girls circled and discarded their clothes.
Mary wore a black bra and black peek-a-boo briefs which revealed, among other things, that she was a true redhead. Kirk rubbed his hands together and let his passion rise.
Mary had very full white thighs, which looked even whiter and softer in contrast to her dark stockings and black briefs. When she parted her legs and did the bumps, the succulent meat on them quivered. Also, her briefs were skimpy indeed between her legs, and her red hair billowed sexily around the thin strip of cloth which was caught in her crack.
Alene wore blue lingerie-lacy, low-cut bra and bikini panties. She hadn't bothered to put on hose that evening. Her briefs were opaque and concealed her pubic fur, but as soon as she began to gyrate, her bra slipped a little and one big suck-inviting nipple popped into view above its rim.
Ed, no longer the quiet man he was at the office, whistled and hollered, "Take it off!"
He obviously wanted to see the other nipple, and everything else.
Alene didn't keep him waiting. If the point at Minsky's had been to draw out the strip as long as possible and then leave the customers with nothing to show for it but a hard-on, the point here was to hurry toward the main event of the night and put all hard-ons to work.
Both girls discarded their bras at about the same time, and the sight of four bare tits bouncing and quivering, shaking and shimmying, all at the same time, pleased both spectators at the impromptu private show. An objective appraiser would have had to conclude that Alene had the better of it in the mammary department-hers were bigger and thrustier, and her nipples were more prominent. But Mary was no slouch when it came to knockers. Hers were the kind that swooped down and out, with lots of concavity at their tops and lush fullness underneath. She cupped them in her hands and waggled them at the men, which caused Kirk's hard-on to press ever more urgently against the inside of his clothes.
Ed was practically eating Alene alive with his eyes as she strutted about, her round, firm tits jouncing.
The strip came to an end as Mary tried to remove her stockings while she danced. Tipsy as she was, she simply couldn't accomplish this, and she fell into Kirk's happy lap.
He took advantage of this opportunity to go to work on her in full view of her husband and Alene. Mary didn't resist. In fact, she cooperated, caressing his privates through his pants as they kissed deeply and Kirk's plucking fingers pulled at her breasts.
"Come here, honey!" Ed called, and Alene couldn't deny him equal privileges.
She experienced the old sense of excitement which she always used to get with a new man, when Ed ran his long bony fingers over her breasts and paid special attention to her very erect, richly textured nipples. They both watched what he was doing as he slowly rolled and bent them and pulled them straight out. Then he coddled a whole breast in his hand and shook it very gently, pinching the nipple between his first and second fingers.
Alene stretched to invite his kiss, and as their tongues curled and slid together, he ran a hand down her satiny stomach, underneath her bikini briefs, and into her rich auburn curls. He teased her slit for a few moment, running his fingertips along it, and then he slowly worked a finger in.
Alene reacted by bumping her honey pot against his hand. Sprawled across his lap as she was, she was acutely aware of the state of his passion. His rod was poking almost painfully against her seat. Since all of his clothes and her briefs were in the way, there was no possibility of achieving a connection at the moment. This frustrated them both.
Across the room, Kirk had rolled Mary off his lap and onto the rug. She was bare as a beaver by this time, and he stood up to snatch off his clothes before falling into her spread-legged embrace.
It seemed to be by mutual, if unspoken, consent that everything was going to happen in the same room, under everyone's eyes. There was really no reason why it shouldn't. When married couples swapped, there were no secrets. Wasn't that the beauty of it?
"Let's follow the leader, honey," Ed said, and gently lifted her off him.
He got up, exhibiting the out-of-shape condition of his pants. He began to undress while Alene slid out of her blue briefs.
Ed's hot eyes were on her. She could imagine him saying to himself: All these weeks I've worked beside her at the office, and I didn't have any idea what a swinger she was!
Who really knew anyone, anyway?
For novices at swapping, the Mathews had gotten into the spirit of it remarkably fast, with no evidence of embarrassment.
Mary demonstrated only intense, hot, squirming pleasure as Kirk joined her on the floor, his sucking mouth riding the hobbling crests of her boobies as she rolled about on the floor.
Alene had her eyes drawn away from the other couple when Ed finished disrobing and pulled her into his arms. He had a high, slender penis which jabbed her in the belly. He squirmed, sandwiching it upward between their bodies, and their mouths blended in a torrid, deep-reaching kiss. Her breasts spread against his chest, her hard nipples burning into him like glowing coals.
His hands slid down to cup and jiggle her buttocks, which were remarkably taut and responsive to such treatment.
Finally they sank to the floor together, taking a position on the carpet much as Kirk and Mary had. Kirk was on top of Mary now, and he was pumping. The redhead had hex legs up. The rapt expression on her face indicated she was close to a climax already.
Perhaps Kirk would be a great success tonight, Alene thought. She hoped so. It would do his ego a great deal of good.
As for herself and Ed, she took him between her thighs and thrilled as the rigid lance of his manhood stabbed deeply into her soft, warm center. She kept her feet against the floor and pushed herself upward, twisting her hips at the same time as he thrust rhythmically in and out of her throbbing vagina.
Mary, beneath Kirk, turned her head their way, and the sight of her husband energetically screwing Alene sent her over the line into kicking, crying ecstasy as Kirk drove quickly to his own climax.
Ed and Alene took longer, but not very much. They were both worked to a high pitch, and his slender rod brought her great pleasure as it stroked against her tingling love tip, reaching ever deeper into her well.
Now he ran his hands way down beneath her and gripped the plump division of her ass to twist them and squeeze them together as he strove mightily for his release. Alene reached the goal split seconds before him. Then Ed ejaculated, crying out and drenching the pit of her cavern with the spurting hot product of his lust.
The two couples romped until late in the evening. When Kirk pooped out fast on a demonstration with Alene, while Ed and Mary looked on, Ed jumped into the breach and polished Alene off, after which he mounted Mary and drove his wet, throbbing tool deeply into her cunt.
Then it was Kirk's and Alene's turn to watch while Ed brought his flopping, squealing wife to an orgasm.
After the Mathews finally had gone, Kirk remarked to Alene, "You ought to be more like Mary. Christ, she can pop any old time without a guy having to break his back to get her there."
"I always thought 'getting there' was most of the fun," Alene replied. Jokingly she added, "If you and Mary are so compatible, maybe you and Ed should work out a permanent switch."
"That might not be such a bad idea,"-was Kirk's reply.
This surprised her, but she was too tired to consider its significance then. She wanted only to drop into bed and sleep for a month.
11
IT TOOK A PARTY AT THE HORNERS' HOUSE to really bring things to a head for Alene and Kirk.
The Mathews, Nancy and Clint Farber, and a young couple from Kirk's company-Joe and Janice Lane-went, along with the Barrys. An interest in swapping gave all members of this assorted crew something in common that transcended differences in background, social standing and status in the Horner office. Nancy was only a stenographer and her husband a milkman, yet here they were mingling with the boss and his wife. Joe was a salesman and Janice a housewife.
The party began like any social get-together, with drinking and dancing and conversation. But gradually, as the evening wore along and more liquor was consumed, the conventional trappings dropped off.
By eleven o'clock, everyone was more than ready to get down to the real nitty-gritty. All that was required was to work out an arrangement for the pairing off.
Paul suggested, "Why not drop keys into a hat? The men drop their keys and the women draw."
"That doesn't make much sense," Kirk objected, "since we're all going to be staying right here."
Ed Mathews said, "Why not draw straws?"
Kirk spoke up again. "As far as I'm concerned, I'd like to take my pick. How about the rest of you men?"
Alene fidgeted. This was the sort of thing that could introduce embarrassment and hurt feelings, which might ruin the whole game.
"Picking isn't the idea," Paul said.
"Oh, isn't it?" Kirk retorted. "Since when? Sex has always meant picking and choosing to me, and that's the way I'd like to keep it"
"Well, who the hell do you pick?" darkly handsome Joe Lane piped up.
Kirk looked all around the group and let his gaze come to rest on Mary Mathews. "My favorite little redhead," he said.
Ed bristled.
Alene spoke up. "Let's do it some other way. Drawing straws sounds all right."
There were murmured responses of disagreement and dissent.
Paul held his arms up for silence. "As our hostess, Patricia ought to have the say, it seems to me. What's the word honey?"
She looked hard at Kirk. She hadn't forgiven him for the way he had treated her when they went to a motel together, and she hadn't forgotten the manner in which he had forced humiliation upon her. "I say we give Kirk his way," she said, "provided neither Ed nor Mary object. But I would add this condition: Kirk and Mary will have to perform right here, in front of the rest of us."
"Yeah!" Joe whooped.
"Now, wait a minute," Ed said, and looked at his pretty wife.
"It's all right with me," she announced blithely.
"How about the rest of us?" Ed asked Patricia. "Do we just twiddle our thumbs while it's going on?"
Several laughed, and Paul said, "I can think of better things to twiddle than that!" This brought more laughter.
"I think what we ought to do," Patricia announced after consideration, "is all watch Kirk and Mary first, then draw straws and adjourn to the various bedrooms."
Her main hope was that Kirk would demonstrate his inadequacy with Mary, as he had with her, and that he would be humiliated in front of the crowd. This would be sweet revenge for the suffering she'd endured at his hands.
Kirk knew what she was up to and he struck back in a jocular tone. "All right. I'll go through with it if Patricia and Alene agree to put on a little demonstration afterward."
Alene colored. "Wh-what do you mean?"
Patricia was watching her carefully.
"Very simple, sweets," Kirk explained. "First I screw Mary, then you and Patricia screw each other-or whatever two dames do instead of screwing. It might be educational for all of us, don't you think?"
There was no response from the rest of the group. All eyes were on the two women concerned.
Alene was tremendously embarrassed. She had never had any Lesbian tendencies that she was aware of, but the thought of making love to Patricia was not so repellent as the idea that Kirk had suggested it.
It was clear to Alene that he wanted to get back at Pat, and he was willing to use his wife in an unnatural way in order to achieve this, without any regard for Alene's feelings in the matter. He wanted to make a perverted spectacle of her!
A tickle of desire had touched Patricia's pussy. This would be a new and different kick! But she didn't want to come right out and accept, for fear Paul would get the wrong idea about her.
Also, she wanted to rub Kirk's nose in the dirt a little more. "I'll tell you," she said. "I'll do it-provided you can bring Mary to a climax, Kirk."
Everyone looked inquisitively Kirk's way, and he reddened.
"Damn it, you're on!" he declared.
No one asked Alene if she "was willing. She assumed that Patricia felt they were both out of the woods, so to speak, by making Kirk's successful performance with Mary a prerequisite. But Patricia didn't know Mary was extra-fast. Kirk had brought the redhead to a climax twice when they had gotten together last.
The rest of the crowd drew closer as Kirk picked a couple of large cushions from the sofa and tossed them into the middle of the floor.
"Undress, honey," he instructed an excited Mary as she moved up.
The girl apparently really liked him. Alene glanced at Ed. He was figuratively gnashing his teeth, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do.
The predicament illustrated what could happen when swap sessions were allowed to run wild.
As for Alene, she wanted very much to declare herself out of the proposed exhibition with Patricia, but that was apt to offend everyone. It certainly wouldn't do her relations with the Homers any good, because Paul looked as though he was anticipating with pleasure the show his wife and Alene were going to put on.
Did swapping do this to people-turn them into sex-hungry, insensitive perverts?
Alene's judgment was harsh, but she was under pressure at the moment, and it was a kind of pressure she didn't like at all.
Mary stripped her clothes off in a business-like fashion-first her dress, of course, then her slip. She wore white under things. Through the cups of her bra, the ruddy outline of her nipples showed, and her red pubic bush cast its triangular shadow at the front of her briefs.
She sat down, ungartered and stripped off her hose. In the meantime, Kirkwas removing his clothes. It was interesting to note that the eyes of the male spectators were all turned toward Mary, except for Ed, who was glaring a.t Kirk. Among the females, blonde Nancy and brown-haired Janice watched Kirk with interest while Alene and Patricia exchanged speculative glances.
Mary removed her panties before her bra, causing a murmur to arise from Paul, Joe and Clint. The hair on her mound was a delicate, fluffy red which gleamed gently in the lamplight.
Now she took her bra away, and her tits swooped forward and slightly down. Though they hung to some extent, they were quite appealing. And the color of her nipples was a delightful orange-pink.
The bush at Kirk's loins was a darker red than Mary's. The girls gazed at the sturdy little pin which projected from it.
Everyone was quite aroused even before Kirk and Mary got together on the floor.
Patricia watched the scene now with satisfaction that was more than sexual. She fully expected Kirk to make a horse's ass of himself, and nothing could have pleased her more.
"Make it good, children!" Joe Lane called as he gazed at the couple on the floor, who were about to come together.
"What do you mean, 'children'? " Clint asked. "Children don't play that way."
"Let's hope ours don't, anyway," Paul said.
The question crossed Alene's mind as to how the Homers or any of the other couples would ever explain it to their children if the little ones were ever to catch them in a situation like this. Thank goodness, the Horners' kids were away with grandma this evening.
Kirk kissed Mary all over the face and neck and shoulders, then his impassioned hands served first one titty and then the other up to his circling, deeply-sucking kiss. Oh's and ah's were heard from the men and women looking on. All were seated, which doubtless saved the men from embarrassment at that moment. Or would anyone have been embarrassed? Alene wondered on reconsideration. Perhaps they were all beyond the point of embarrassment now.
Mary boldly fondled Kirk's penis and testicles as his lips toyed with her breast tips and one hand foraged at her loins.
True to form, Kirk did not keep this up for long. But that was all right in this instance, because Mary didn't really need it.
When he swung fully atop her and guided his prick into the warm wet harbor between her thighs, she obviously was as eager and ready to receive it as he was to drive it in.
"Oooo-eee!" Joe exclaimed, and clapped his hands in lustful glee.
His pretty, brown-haired wife gazed at the scene in fascination. She had never watched a couple fornicate before.
Paul smoked and appeared reasonably complacent, but in his eyes there was evidence of deep fascination with what was going on.
Patricia kept glancing at Alene.
Ed stared at the action almost grimly.
Nancy and Clint, who also were new to this sort of thing, held hands as they watched. For some reason, this amused Alene.
Kirk's compact white buttocks bobbed briskly up and down between Mary's up-pointing thighs. Joe and Janice, who were seated near the locked couple's feet, could watch his penis stroking in and out of Mary's cunt. They could see his balls quiver and pat the fleshy undersides of her buttocks.
Paul and Patricia, seated at the other side of the room, enjoyed the grinding of his firm chest against the compressed balloons of Mary's bosom.
As Patricia had expected, the action on the pillows didn't last long. But as she had not expected, Mary was the first to reach completion.
She began to gasp and whimper, and she lifted her legs high in the air. She kicked and wriggled them as Kirk drove stroke after stroke rapidly into her quivering vagina, then suddenly she brought her legs down with crushing force around his back, tilted her pussy up, and shook all over in blissful orgasm.
Kirk arched himself as he drove deep. His buttocks jerked with the twitching of his cock inside her. They were though.
Patricia's mouth dropped open. She was now faced with the necessity of putting up. Or, rather, putting out ... to a woman!
She hadn't expected to really have to do this, so she wasn't emotionally prepared. But now, as the impact of the situation struck her, she found that she was strangely exhilarated.
Alene was angry to find herself in such a position as this.
Kirk pulled free of Mary and stood up. He looked at his wife, with his wet pecker dangling.
"Okay, baby," he said. "Show us what you can do with Patricia."
"No!" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet. She was furious with her husband for goading her on.
"That's not fair!" Joe yelled. "A deal's a deal, baby."
"I believe he's right," said Paul, his eyes wickedly agleam.
So Paul was against her too! He had no more consideration for her feelings than Kirk had. And perhaps worse yet, he had no compunction over making a spectacle of his wife in this unnatural way.
All right, Alene decided. She would go through with it. But this would be the end of everything else, too-her relationships with both Kirk and Paul, her marriage, her job ... everything!
Almost grimly she moved toward the middle of the room. Patricia joined her.
The black-haired woman smiled. "This is a pretty pickle we got ourselves into, isn't it?"
But she didn't seem distressed. Alene would have described the other woman's attitude as excited.
"Come on, girlies!" Joe urged. "Put on a real show for us now."
Nancy and Clint Farber gripped each other's hands more tightly.
Mary had moved toward the back of the house to get dressed, and Ed had followed her.
Moving numbly, Alene divested herself of her clothes. She recognized the possibility that the performance might turn out to be a fiasco, since she had never made love with a woman before and, as far as she knew, Patricia hadn't either.
But Patricia was determined to make the show succeed. She wiggled out of her dress, then her dark lacy slip. She removed her bra, letting her perky breasts have their freedom. The berry-like nipples were hard and red with excitement.
Alene released her considerably larger melons from their pink nylon confinement, and her nipples were still soft. But the moment that air touched those sensitive tips, they puckered and stood out until, within seconds, they had assumed thrilling fullness and extension.
Alene stripped her pink slip down, which left her in matching briefs, a white garter belt, and sand-colored stockings.
Patricia sat down to remove her dark nylons.
Alene glanced at Kirk. He was grinning at her. The bastard!
Alene slid her pants away, trying not to look at anyone. She felt the eyes of all the men on her auburn-haired snatch. She bent, ungartered her hose, and drew the stockings quickly down her legs. She tossed her garter belt away.
Patricia still had to remove her black briefs, and she did this with evident pleasure that she was being watched and admired.
But was this admiration?
What did men really think of a woman who displayed herself this way?
Alene and Pat sank to the floor, on the pillows which had supported Kirk and Mary a few minutes earlier. Alene allowed Patricia to take the lead.
Though the black-haired temptress had never done this sort of thing before, she seemed to know the way. Perhaps subconsciously she was recalling passages in some of the modern novels she had read.
Her hands danced over Alene's nubile curves like fluttery birds' wings, touching her stiffened tits and her down-soft belly, the satiny smoothness of her warm thighs ... finally the crease beneath Alene's cute blanket of pubic hair.
Alene responded. This troubled her at the moment, to think that her passion could be awakened and played upon by another woman's hands. But later, in thinking it over, she realized that this was normal. If a woman could masturbate herself to a climax, there was no reason why she couldn't or shouldn't rise to a climax beneath another woman's caresses. It was purely a matter of nerve responses, she concluded.
While it was going on, she tried to fight against it. She willed her nipples not to tingle, her pussy not to throb, and found this useless. The tips of her lolling titties felt almost as if they were about to burst, and her snatch was not only throbbing; it was moistening, too.
For what? For the insertion of Patricia's fingers? For her tongue? The thought was vaguely revolting. But when it happened, a short time later, it brought Alene sharp quaking thrills.
First Patricia played with her breasts, and her pink lips gently brushed Alene's. Now those lips fastened themselves onto Alene's mouth and Patricia's tongue gently came calling.
Alene's heartbeat quickened. She felt her own tongue flutter in response. Her hands slid along Patricia's smooth, slender back, moved lower to clasp her buttocks.
Appreciative comments and inarticulate sounds arose from the people who were watching. Alene tried to block them out.
Soon she didn't hear them at all. She was too deeply involved in the pleasure Patricia was giving her and that which she was giving in return.
Patricia's gentle, questing fingers opened the lips of her vagina, which now was juicy with desire. The fingers delved and stroked. Alene found
Patricia's cunt and pleasured it in the same way. Patricia moaned.
Now, as the black-hair ed woman's thumb and forefinger deftly manipulated Alene's clit, her softly caressing lips moved downward-nipping at nipples, tonguing them, tracing a line of fire to Alene's navel, fluttering there, and finally going on to join the hand which gently opened Alene's love crevice. Her lips pressed, and her tongue slithered thrillingly inside.
Joe and Janice gripped the arms of their chairs and gazed in rapt fascination. Paul was stoic on the surface, but his rigid shaft throbbed. Nancy and Clint continued to hold hands with each other.
The women on the floor observed none of these reactions. Their world, at this moment, was made up of searching hands and sucking lips and seeking tongues.
Soon Alene voluntarily moved around to what seemed the logical position, so that she could give pleasure more deeply while she received it. Her tongue found Patricia's oozing labia and slid between them. Patty's tongue fluttered ever-faster within her torrid gash.
They finished in a mutual paroxysm of bliss as sighs and murmurs of delight escaped from the lips of those who watched.
And then everyone sank to the floor, though no cue was spoken.
Ed had returned, and he scrambled atop blonde Nancy, kissing her ravenously as he stroked her thighs and drew her panty crotch away from her heated loins. She was sopped down there. His fingers easily slipped inside.
Joe took Patricia. Clint and Janice paired off.
Mary returned to the room, and Kirk chose her again as Paul swept Alene up in his arms.
"You were wonderful, darling!" he murmured hoarsely. "I almost came in my pants while I watched you making love to my wife!"
This capped the whole sordid deal off, as far as Alene was concerned. It was a crazy, fouled-up dream, and she wanted no more of it.
"Put me down!" she demanded, and she began to kick.
"What are you talking about?" Paul chuckled. "You're mine. I'm going to lay you."
"like hell you are! I'm nobody's! I don't belong here. I'm getting out!"
The floor was filled with writhing humanity, all naked now or nearly so-men on top of women, women on top of men.
Alene scooped up her clothes from a hassock and frantically picked her way between the flailing legs and bobbing buttocks. She sought refuge in a bathroom and locked the door.
Paul stood naked in the center of his living room and gazed after her in amazement. The little weirdo, he thought. My wife taught her a new way to go, and now she won't have anything to do with a man.
Well, he didn't need her. There were other opportunities all around him.
The best one, at the moment, was offered by Janice, who was laboring above Clint, her loins pumping up and down on his hardness as she bent forward, facing his feet.
Paul quickly dropped his trousers and straddled those feet. He moved up to Janice's face.
Her mouth received his penis.
12
ALENE HAD PACKED HER THINGS AND WAS gone from the apartment she had shared with Kirk by the time he arrived there in the early hours of the morning.
A note informed him that she would not be back and planned to file for divorce.
He didn't care. He had found a woman he really loved, a woman who really appreciated him-Mary. Ed had agreed to give her a divorce. In fact, during the brief, bitter conversation they'd had in abed-room at the Horner home, he had insisted on it.
Mary returned to spend the balance of the night at the Mathews home while Ed went to a hotel.
The Lanes were now hipped on the swapping game, and they agreed with each other to pursue it fervently.
As for Clint and Nancy Farber, they were a little dazed by all that had happened. In talking it over, they agreed it had been a fascinating experience, but they didn't want to repeat it. Now they appreciated each other all the more.
And at that moment, Paul and Patricia Horner tumbled into bed together. They were too tired for sex. The orgy had taken everything out of them. But they weren't too tired to talk about it, and to lay plans for their next swap party.
"Baby, you were terrific!" Paul chortled. "Man, I had no idea you could make the scene with a woman the way you did with Alene. That was a kick to watch!"
"It was a kick to do, darling," Patricia purred.
"You know, the cunt is a tasty thing! I never realized that before."
"I could have told you," he said with a grin.
"We'll have to have more parties like that. Or, better yet, how about swapping with a pair of girls sometime? You can have one, and I'll have the other,"
He looked at her closely. "You're not hooked on that kind of love, are you?"
"Oh, I still think I'll always enjoy men,but I have to admit the other was pretty good. I'm sure looking forward to more of it!"
This was a disquieting turn of events, as far as Paul was concerned. Perhaps, he concluded, there was such a thing as too much permissiveness. Perhaps people could carry experimentation too far.
But he wouldn't let it bother him at the moment. He was too tired.
