"What wife-swapping amounts to 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." So states Dr. Benjamin Morse in The Sexual Revolution, and he could have easily been discussing the depraved suburban neighborhood that spawned such shameless swappers as the Hatchers and the Pattersons, and the new Negro couple down the street....
CHAPTER ONE
"What a dull afternoon," Mark Hatcher said, as he got up from his contour chair and stretched. "Let's go next door and see the Pattersons. Maybe they'd like to screw."
"Screw, screw, screw!" his wife retorted. "That's all you ever think about."
"Oh-ho! Look who's talking."
The dark-haired man crossed the den to the door. His yellow knit shirt and expensively contoured slacks complimented his athletic build. At twenty-eight, he was as trim and handsome as when he was graduated from college.
Virginia (Ginger) Hatcher remained in her chair. One leg was drawn up, her foot resting on the chair seat. Her pink stretch pants pulled tight on her shapely hips and thighs. Red hair tumbled around the shoulders of her floral-print blouse.
She was watching a discussion program on TV. "Well, are you coming or not?" Mark asked, his hand on the doorknob.
"Why don't you call them? Maybe they're not even home." She kept watching the program.
"They're home. I saw Candy in the backyard a little while ago."
"And she looked good enough to eat, hmm?"
"Don't be snide."
"Oh shit, Mark!" Ginger said, as she stood. "It's just that you have such a frigging one-track mind. There are things in the world besides sex."
"Yeah. Dull things. Come on."
They left their ranch style home by the side door, crossed under the carport, and picked their way through the rose bushes which divided their lot from the Pattersons'.
Candy Patterson, in her kitchen, saw them approaching. "Paul?"
"Yeah, cutes," he answered from the living room. "We're about to have visitors. Mark and Ginger."
"Wonder what they want." Guess.
"Hey, that wouldn't go bad today, would it?"
"Cunt hound," she said to him softly as she strode through the living room, taking off her apron. She wore trim white shorts and a sleeveless top. The outfit made her look like a showgirl, with her long, lusciously curved legs, billowy buttocks, and jutting tits.
Paul was on the chunky side and appeared rumpled in a nondescript shirt and brown slacks. He got up from his chair and dropped the Sunday paper which he'd been reading.
The Pattersons were in their middle twenties and, like the Hatchers, childless by choice. They had a house of their own in a fashionable suburb because (a) they could afford it, (b) it was the in thing, and (c) they expected to start bringing up a family in a year or so and wanted to be prepared.
Candy patted at her curving blonde hairdo and put a smile on her face. She opened the door an instant after the chimes sounded.
"Well, hi!" she chirped.
"Hello, baby," said Mark, and Ginger smiled a greeting.
Behind Candy, Paul asked, "What is it you want, I hope?" He chuckled and looked at Ginger.
The Pattersons stepped back and let their neighbors in. Paul watched Ginger's ass gyrate past him. It wasn't quite as high or full-blown as Candy's, but it was very good as asses went. And the great thing about it, from Paul's viewpoint, was that it belonged to another man's wife.
Mark leaned and gave Candy a kiss on the cheek. She smiled more broadly. She was extremely pretty when she smiled like that-the personification of everything fresh, young and female.
Ginger's smile was subtler, more restrained. "This horny husband of mine was bored. So naturally his mind turned to carnal thoughts."
"How are the minds running over here?" Mark asked, eyeing Candy.
"Listen, buddy, we can be as carnal as you any day," said Paul.
The four friends moved into the living room.
"Drink?" asked Candy.
"Some beer, if you've got it," Mark said.
"Ginny?"
"Beer's fine."
"Relax. Four brews coming up."
Mark watched Candy's shapely butt wiggle to the kitchen.
"Mmm, what an ass!" he said.
Ginger sat down and crossed her legs. "Mark, do you have to be so crude?"
But Paul, whose wife was the subject of the vulgar comment, seemed to think it was all right. "An ass is an ass," he said. "Why pussyfoot about it?"
"That's what I, say," Mark agreed. "Call 'em as we see em.
He sat down, as did Paul.
"I hear they've been showing the Munsons' house to a black couple," Paul said.
"Great!" Mark grinned. "This neighborhood could stand a little tone."
"Very funny," Paul said drily. "But I think it's a serious matter. I wouldn't have any objection if they'd behave themselves, but their hobbies seem to be sniping and throwing fire bombs."
"I doubt if well have to worry about that." Mark was watching Ginger. She'd hardly said a word since they arrived.
"Here we go!" Candy announced, as she arrived with a tray bearing four beer bottles and glasses.
She bent to put it down on the free-form, marble coffee table.
Mark moved up behind her, noting how her tightly-drawn shorts revealed the seams of the briefs she wore beneath them. He placed his hand across her ass and shimmied the responsive flesh.
She gasped and straightened up, then smiled at him.
He pulled her into his arms.
Paul and Ginger watched them kiss. Candy's buttocks moved tremblingly as her belly agitated against Mark's. His hand held her firmly at the back. Her tits surged against him. Their tongues fenced.
Paul laughed and looked at Ginger. "That turns me on. Y'know?"
She uncrossed her legs, got up, and walked over to join him on the sofa. Her hand dropped into his crotch.
His cock twitched and started to swell.
"Oh, baby!" he exclaimed, and turned her toward him for a kiss.
As his tongue came plunging into her mouth, she thought, What I have to do to keep that bastard husband of mine happy!
She let her tongue toy with Paul's. She stroked his risen prick through his trousers. His pudgy hand came up to surround pointed tit which he rubbed, appreciating its firm resiliency. He began to concentrate on the nipple he could feel rising. He pinched and rolled it through her blouse and bra.
She always wondered why her nipples came up that way when she didn't feel much of anything under a man's hand. It must have been purely an automatic reaction of the tactile nerves.
Mark groaned in the midst of his drawn-out, passionate kiss with Candy. His cock was as high as it could get in his clothes. He slid his hand down her back, stroked the bare tops of her thighs, and brought it up to her buttocks again. He petted the firm, springy globes all over.
Feeling his erection excited Candy very much. She enjoyed swapping more than she would ever admit to Paul. Her pussy was starting to dribble now. It wanted Mark's prick.
But first ... oh, but first, if he would only kiss her down there, as he had done once!
Ginger extricated herself from Paul's embrace and slid her hand away from his loins. "Doesn't anyone want that beer?" she asked.
"I don't know how you can think of beer at a time like this," Paul said. But he grinned.
They poured their brew into glasses.
Mark slowly released Candy. She stepped back, breathing hard. She was a little flushed. Her eyes dropped to the hump in the front of his pants.
He chuckled and turned her toward the coffee table. He welcomed the opportunity to bend over and pour his drink.
"Did Paul tell you about the colored people who were looking at the Munson house?" Candy asked Ginger, deliberately trying to calm herself down.
"Yes," Ginger said, after she'd sipped some cold brew. "How do you feel about it?"
"I don't know. I hate to discriminate, but ... well, I wonder if they're ready for a neighborhood like this."
"Don't you mean you wonder if the neighborhood is ready for them?" Mark asked, as he carried his beer bottle and full glass to a chair.
"Partly that," Candy admitted.
"I think it should be possible for them to live anywhere they want," Ginger said, "and I think they should be made to feel welcome. If a black family does move into the Munson place, Mark and I will go over and call on them right away. And well do our best to be friendly."
"Oh, you liberals!" Paul said, and chuckled. He quaffed a large slug of brew.
"I don't notice that you're particularly conservative in your living habits," Mark said with twinkling eyes.
"Let's not talk politics!" Candy exclaimed, as she lit in a chair.
"That suits me," said Mark. "Let's talk sex."
"You!" She tilted her head back and laughed.
He gazed at her swelling tits. Jesus, what a pair of knockers! They were probably the best he'd ever played with.
It didn't seem right for one girl to have so much-perfect tits, a magnificent ass, lovely legs, and a hot, slick pussy with ball-bearing action. And look who she was married to-a schlump like Paul.
What did she see in him? Well, he made good money as a systems analyst for a big electronics company. Apparently he had a brain on him, though he gave little evidence of it in social contacts. Ginger had said he couldn't even screw very well.
"Speaking of sex ... and speaking of blacks," Paul said, then paused for emphasis while he swallowed some more brew. He wiped his mouth. "What do you think it would be like to go to bed with a Negro?"
The question seemed to be directed at everyone. Ginger looked at Candy. She seemed a little flustered.
Mark was equal to the challenge. He grinned. "Oh, it'd be just great, Paul! Hot stuff! They tell me nigger pussies are somthing else. And the pricks on those black bucks are huge. White women freak-out when they get all that meat shoved into them."
Ginger glared at him.
Paul put his head back and laughed. Candy looked down.
"Okay, buddy," Paul said. "You're telling me I'm sophomoric and bigoted even to suggest there might be a difference. Right?"
"I'm telling you that you think in stereotypes when it comes to race. Most people do. No white person would contend that all whites had the same characteristics-about sex or anything else-but a lot of us don't hesitate to say all blacks are alike."
"I know they're not all alike."
"Then why did you say, 'go to bed with a Negro?" You wouldn't have said, T wonder what it's like to go to bed with an Italian or a Pole.' "
"Man, I do wonder what it'd be like to go to bed with an Italian-Sophia Loren."
The women giggled.
"She's too old for you," Mark said, and sipped beer.
Paul poured the last of his brew into his glass, and he raised the glass to his lips right away. He obviously wanted to polish off the drink as quickly as possible.
This bothered Candy. She wanted to swap-screw, also. But it bugged her to realize Paul wasn't completely and exclusively satisfied with her as a mate. This was an inconsistency which she'd never examined in an objective way.
The foursome finished their drinks in a few minutes, with Paul setting the pace, then, they stood up, as if on a common signal.
"Mind if we use a bedroom?" Mark asked Paul, as he took Candy's arm.
"Enjoy!" Paul said, with an expansive gesture, and he laughed.
He pulled Ginger against him and kissed her bruisingly on the lips.
Excitement rose in Mark as he ushered Candy ahead of him, into the hall. He watched her buttocks work in the snug shorts. Yes, sir, that was an ass!
Too bad he and Paul couldn't trade wives permanently, he thought. Then ... no. Candy was too shallow. There wasn't much there, below the physical, feeling level. Ginger could be bitchy at times, and she wasn't quite as well stacked, but she reflected on life ... as he did, when his pants weren't on fire.
Candy moved quickly into a guest room. Make followed and closed the door.
She came into his arms with a little whimper. Her kiss was hungry. He fed her his tongue in slow, sensuous strokes. She wrapped her moist, soft lips around the stroking length of meat and sucked gently. His cock came up.
He unfastened her shorts and pushed them down. His hands filled themselves with the. springy globes of her ass. Her nylon underpants were almost as thin as hosiery, and his fingertips forced that flimsy fabric into the crack of her butt.
She moaned and kept sucking on his tongue. It was said that women who sucked men's tongues were thinking about sucking their pricks, but Candy had never made a move to go down on him. He hadn't tried to get her to do it. That was something that shouldn't be forced, he believed. If a woman felt she had to do it, it wasn't as good. Ginger had sucked his cock a few times, when she was in the right mood, and he'd enjoyed it very much. He'd never asked her if she sucked Paul's.
Candy pulled back and murmured, "Oh, God, I'm so hot!"
"What's the matter? Doesn't Paul take care of you?"
"I like to swap, Mark, but I don't like to talk about Paul when I'm doing it."
"Then we won't talk about Paul."
He dropped to one knee and tugged her shorts down her lovely, symmetrical legs. He gazed at the shadow of her n. pussy through her white, filmy pants.
She whined a little and ground her hips. He watched her belly button wink above the elastic of the bikini briefs. She lifted one leg, then the other, and he took her shorts off. She kicked off her flat shoes at the same time.
He pulled down her panties.
"Oh, Mark...!"
Candy was-more of a natural blonde than Ginger was a true redhead. Even so, Candy's pussy curls were several shades darker than the hair on her head.
As Mark shoved her briefs all the way down her legs, he nuzzled her belly, kissing along just above her fluff. He straightened up, and she stepped out of her pants, leaning on his shoulder for support.
He caught glimpses of her cunt lips.
Candy had a very pretty little cunt. Exquisitely pink on the inside, and pastel-shaded outside. Ginger's was darker, less aesthetically pleasing to Mark. But aesthetics weren't everything, when it came to cunts. Ginger could move hers well. So could Candy. The two women were pretty much of a tossup until the finish, then Candy seemed to give it more. There was that little fluttery grabbing inside. And she bumped as if she really meant it.
As he looked at her pussy now, from his closeup vantage point, he thought about eating it. He'd done that only once with her. He wondered if she would like it again today.
He stood, and his prick poked painfully against the inside of his clothes. He unbuttoned Candy's blouse and removed it. He unhooked her bra and drew it away.
Her titties stood out roundly, their pink, erect nipples canting upward.
Mark growled with pleasure and wrapped his large hands around them. He enjoyed the sight and wondrous feel as he squeezed that pliant, firm titty flesh, altering the shape of the boobs, but not a great deal. They were fully packed.
He thumbed Candy's nipples, bending the little towers this way and that.
She whimpered passionately. "Lie down," he said. "I'll strip."
He pulled his yellow shirt over his head, then he watched Candy arrange the bed as he opened his pants and shoved them down. He had to bend and flip off his loafers before he could remove the slacks. As he glanced up again, she was bent forward, facing away from him, folding the bedspread. Her cunt was delightfully visible.
Goddamn, he would eat it today!
He hauled his Jockey shorts off, and his cock sprang fully out, angling upward. It was thick, bald-headed, and not too long. Just under six inches. The head was the shape and color of a ripe plum. Black hair shrouded his bunched-up balls.
Having laid back the covers, Candy sat on the edge of the bed and swung her legs around, stretching out on her back. She looked at Mark's bobbing cock as he walked up to her.
He stood for a moment beside the bed, gazing down. Candy kept her eyes on his prick. Finally she put out her hand and wrapped it around the stubby, iron-hard shaft.
"Ooooh," she said.
She felt over his cockhead with her delicate, soft fingertips. It jerked. She gripped it tightly and let go.
"I really do like cocks," she said. "Some girls say they're ugly, but I like them. I like to look at them as well as feel them inside me."
He wondered if she was providing an opening for him to invite her to do something else with his prick. Maybe. But he wasn't going to suggest it. She'd have to do it on her own.
She let his pecker go, and it jerked again. He got down onto the bed, beside her. They rolled into a warm embrace. They moaned and murmured as he kissed her about the neck and shoulders, then on the lips. His hand worked a pliant tit.
He pushed himself downward and began kissing heron the breast tops, while his fingertips brushed her nipples. They grew harder and rosier. They stuck way up when they were stimulated.
She murmured, "Oh, I like that ... it's so good ... love me, Mark, love me...."
He bent his head and sucked at a nipple. He began to feel a little giddy. Her hands fluttered around his head. Her long, graceful fingers slid through his thick hair.
He moved farther down on her body.
She moaned.
He was aware of her legs parting, well before he reached them. She wanted him to kiss her cunt. Well, what woman didn't ... really?
He ruffled her pussy fur and breathed into it.
"Mark! Ooooh."
He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. She moaned again, more harshly. He stroked her opposite thigh with his fingertips, running them lightly up and down the satiny inner slope, as he gazed at the moist, pink splendor of her cunt.
Those little lips were so slick and smooth-looking. He remembered how they'd felt against his lips and tongue. He watched a pearl of lubricant slide down the folds of rosy flesh. Her inner slit was slightly open. It was ready to accommodate a cock right now.
He bent closer yet. He inhaled her fragrance, which was just a little sharp, because the visit of Ginger and himself to her home had taken her by surprise today. She hadn't had an opportunity to bathe just beforehand and to anoint herself with powder or cologne.
He didn't mind. The slight tang stimulated him. If it had been really strong, he might have been repelled, but this degree of scent was just right. Natural.
He pressed his mouth to the moist, slippery pussy, and Candy cried aloud. She jammed a knuckle into her mouth and bit on it. Tears welled in her eyes. The flow of her sex syrup increased. She wanted to move her pelvis against his kiss, but she forced herself to remain still.
Mark licked tenderly up and down her meat, in and out of all the delicate folds, across her tingling clitty, down to the orifice again, and he jammed his tongue inside, sinking it as deeply as it would go.
She cried against the finger in her mouth-whimpering, keening softly, sobbing.
He stroked his tongue in and out of her cunt, as if the tongue were a prick. Then he tightened his lips against her cunt mouth and sucked. He swallowed some of her juice. The scent and taste fired him.
He licked up across her clitty once more. She bobbed a little then. She couldn't help it. She moaned sharply. He concentrated on her clit, twirling it, bringing it out more. He bent it with deft tongue-strokes. He took it between his lips.
"Mark!" she shrieked. "Oh, Cod! Now!"
He lunged up over her, slid his prick all the way into her cunt, and screwed her hard until she came. It took less than a minute, and the contractions of her cunt muscles were wonderful as she bounded spastically against him. Her hands gripped his back. She sobbed.
Her orgasm triggered his ejaculation, and he sent spurt after spurt of warm cream into her as he moaned and felt the blissful wave of satisfaction reach way down to his toes.
"Oh, Mark ... Mark...." she said, as he lapsed against her.
"Good?"
"Oh, yes! Oooooh!"
She kissed him moistly and heatedly all over his face and neck.
Paul undressed slowly and watched Ginger remove her blouse, then her pink stretch pants. Under them she wore pink nylon panties, the plain kind, which came all the way up to her waist. They were opaque, and he couldn't see the shadow of her pubic blanket through them.
She didn't look at him as she undressed. Her motions were deliberate, not calculated to tease or titillate. He'd had the impression about Ginger right along, ever since the swapping had started, that she wasn't particularly wild about it.
He didn't care. She was strange tail, and he appreciated her as such. What she thought about him, or about it, wasn't particularly important, so long as she opened her legs to his thrust.
He wasn't even sure that she came when he screwed her. But if she didn't, she put on a good enough act.
Candy came always. He presumed that she came with Mark, too.
Ginger took off her bra, revealing compact, pointed breasts. They were cute, quivery things with small lips. Different from Candy's. A nice change.
She whisked her pants down and bared her auburn bush. The thick hair on her mound was mostly brown, with just a tinge of red.
Paul took off his shorts, revealing a cock that was long and covered by foreskin. It was thick, but not yet erect. There had been no kissing or touching since they'd walked into the bedroom, and Ginger had undressed in such a matter-of-fact way that he wasn't physically aroused yet.
But he would be. He never had any trouble getting hard.
Ginger drew back the covers and lay down on the bed. She let her legs part a little. Paul gazed at her split, barely visible through her hairs.
His prick began to rise.
He got down onto the bed with her, and they embraced. He chuckled softly. "Nickel for your thoughts," he said. "I don't have any thoughts."
He caressed her on the belly, then up on the boobs. He rubbed his hand back and forth across her nipples, and they turned rigid. Her tits vibrated beneath his brushing touch.
She reached for his stiffened cock. She slid back the foreskin, and his knob swelled.
He had more cock than Mark-at least an inch more-but it wasn't any thicker around, so Ginger hardly detected a difference when it was in her. She had told Mark that Paul didn't use his prick as well, but that was only to feed Mark's ego. She couldn't detect much difference in their techniques. If anything, Paul lasted a little longer. But he didn't do as much beforehand. He never kissed her between the legs.
When a man did that, she responded some. But men didn't really do it well. Even Mark. They didn't have a woman's touch. Only a woman knew exactly what another woman liked the best.
Paul rubbed her between the legs, and she got hardly anything out of it. His touch was rough. She moaned a little, however, and spread her legs wider apart. Moisture began to trickle in her quim. That was just like the stiffening of her nipples-her body reacted even though she didn't feel anything where she lived.
It was a damned good thing her body did react that way, or screwing would be painful. As it was, it was only dull.
Paul hunched down to look closely at her tits. "These are real cute," he murmured. "Nice and pointy."
He fingered the nipples and tugged gently at them. They came up even harder. They were mahogany brown. He wrapped his lips around one little tip and sucked, lashing the nipple with his tongue.
She pumped his prick.
He groaned as he lifted his head from her titty. "Wanta get on top this time?" he asked. "If you like."
"Baby ... you're very sweet, do you know that?"
He kissed her and petted her cheeks, running his hands forward into her long red hair. He shook her hair gently. He turned and kissed that.
She petted the back of his head. "I like you, too," she purred.
But she kept her cool. She was hard to figure. He didn't puzzle over it much.
He helped boost her atop him. She stayed well up on her knees until she had his cock aimed just right. She carefully worked the tip of it into her slit, then slowly lowered her quim around it.
She felt snug to, Paul. Snugger than Candy usually was.
Ginger remained sitting up. She carried a lock of red hair away from her eye, and smiled down at him-but still she was cool; a little detached.
"Jesus, that feels good!" he said.
"Your cock feels good to me." (She knew all men liked to have their tools praised by the women they bedded, and the blunter the language, the better.)
"You have a sweet little cunt," Paul said, and his pecker twitched inside it.
She laughed gently. Men were kind of like small boys with their dirty talk. But she could go along with it.
She began to grind her pussy around his upstanding rod, and he growled with pleasure. He reached up and took hold of her tits. He worked them as she screwed him.
She never thought about bedding a woman when she was with a man. The two experiences had nothing in common, as far as she was concerned. One produced bliss; the other discharged an obligation. Though she was with Paul, the obligation was to Mark. She didn't begrudge it too much.
Being somewhat thinner than Candy, Ginger moved her hips with more snap. Paul liked her in the position she occupied right now. He stroked upward into her cunt, bumping gently, as she twisted and stroked her soft, slick box around his pecker. It was good! Goddamn, it was great!
He slid his hands up and down her sleek sides. He gripped the backs of her thighs and squeezed them. He gripped her hips.
"Shit!" he exclaimed.
She laughed again and screwed harder.
He began to bump more urgently up into her.
She fell forward, stretching out atop him, frog-like. She worked hard. He grasped the cheeks of her ass and squeezed them as he pumped with her. He grunted harshly. Again.
"Ooooh!" he exclaimed, as his cock began to twitch and spurt.
Ginger moved as if she were completing, bucking and vibrating. She drew all the milk from his loins. When he stopped twitching and his cock began to lose its tension, she lay still.
"Oh, baby, that was good!" he said, and petted her long, red hair.
"It was very good for me, too," she lied.
Candy laughed in a soft, silken way. "This is a funny thing," she said, resting her cheek against Mark's belly and gazing at the limp prick which she held between her forefinger and thumb. "So soft now, but a little while ago it was so stiff. It's funny how that works."
"Not so funny, really. It just fills up with blood."
"What makes the blood rush into it?"
"That's a rather complicated process. There are both mental and physical factors involved."
"I wonder if I could make the blood rush into it right now," she said wistfully, and shook the pecker back and forth a little.
"Not that way," he said.
"How?" She turned and smiled up at him.
He grinned. "You'll have to use your imagination."
She looked at it again.
He tensed expectantly. His cock was coated with come and cunt lubricant. This really wasn't the best time for Candy to try the oral treatment. But he presumed she appreciated what his condition was. She was close enough right now to smell it.
She gazed at it for a long time, holding it up between her thumb and forefinger. Then she let it drop. She moved around and sat up, her titties lurching.
He didn't feel particularly disappointed. Actually, he was a little relieved. When it happened-and he believed now that it would, sooner or later-he wanted it to be very good, for her as well as for him.
Women could enjoy cocksucking, just as men could enjoy eating cunt. He was the living proof of the latter. He enjoyed it with Candy, and with Ginger sometimes. He'd enjoyed it with other girls, too. But he didn't enjoy it always. It depended on the woman and the circumstances.
"You have very beautiful tits," he said, reaching out and lifting one.
She laughed gently, and looked down at his manipulation of her boob.
He took hold of the other one, also. He moved both of them at the same time, gently-round and round, up and down, back and forth. He caught the pink nipples and rolled them between his thumbs and index fingers. They stiffened.
"Your nipples work just like my cock," he said. "But they get hard faster than your cock does."
"It's easier for them. They don't require as much blood."
She looked at him. "Mark, I really like this swapping. Don't you?"
"You bet."
"How does Ginger feel about it?"
"She likes it."
"I'm not so sure."
"Has she ever said she didn't?"
"Not to me."
"Not to me, either," he said.
"Most people would think it was sinful, I suppose. Square people, I mean."
"What do we care about square people?" he asked, still fondling her tits.
"We don't," she said.
She leaned down and kissed him.
At the sound of the door opening, they both looked up. Paul stood there, naked and grinning.
"Are we ready for some togetherness?" he asked. "Sure," said Mark. "Come on in."
"Ginny baby!" Paul yelled behind him. "Bring the beer!"
He strode into the room, dong swinging.
This was the pattern which they had followed lately. They would screw each other's wives and husbands in private first, then all get together for group play. It did wonders for breaking down the inhibitions.
Paul's gaze licked over his naked wife, seated on the bed beside his naked neighbor.
Ginger appeared in the doorway, nude as the rest, carrying a tray with more beer. She put it down on the night table, and everybody reached for a bottle. The girls took glasses; the men didn't bother.
"Well, has everybody had a good time so far?" Paul asked.
"Just great," Mark said.
He glanced at Ginger. She concentrated on pouring her beer.
Paul gazed at his wife admiringly as he quaffed a long drink from his bottle. He got almost as much fun out of watching her with Mark as he did out of screwing Mark's wife. He didn't understand why he should feel this way. It was an odd quirk, he guessed. But he accepted it.
They kidded one another, and Paul told a dirty story.
Candy, who'd been a little tense, relaxed. Ginger swung with the scene, without seeming to get a great deal out of it. She was cool, as always.
Though a Lesbian of several years standing, she didn't pay any special attention to Candy in the nude. She was too smart for that. It would be murder to fool around with any woman in the neighborhood, least of all a broad whom Mark fooled around with.
All four persons sat on the double bed-Candy and Mark in the center, while Ginger and Paul sat at the edge. When they finished their beers, they snuggled down with their partners, and it was then that Paul and Ginger lay down beside the others.
It would have been very crowded, except that the bed was king-size and Mark lay mostly atop Candy, while Paul did the same with Ginger. The foursome kissed and caressed.
Paul kept glancing at his beautiful blonde wife, watching Mark squeeze her tits, tweak her nipples, and stroke her satin belly and thighs. Ginger fondled Paul's prick. As the prick gradually stiffened, he transferred most of his attention to her.
Mark petted Candy's hair and lapped gently at her pastel pink mouth. Her tongue rose to dally in the open with his. Paul caught a glimpse of that.
Ginger pulled Paul's head down to her and ran her tongue into his mouth. His cock was stiff now, sandwiched upward between them.
Mark's prick had stiffened, too. He was tonguing and sucking at Candy's luscious pink nipples, going from one to the other. He squeezed her resilient boobs as he mouthed their tips.
She slid her hand down to his cock. Her knowing fingers teased his corona and fluttered against the swollen, throbbing head.
He adjusted his position so that he lay between her thighs. She had to extend one leg across one of Ginger's. Paul looked down and watched Mark's prick nose into the slit which bisected Candy's blonde nest. The column of turgid male flesh sank out of sight within her belly. She said, "Ooooh."
Paul quickly got between Ginger's legs. She directed his prick into her cunt.
It would have been difficult for the two couples to screw side by side on the one bed, except that both wives raised their legs over their partners' backs. Mark was stroking and grinding in a slow, lazy rhythm. Paul moved faster, watching Candy's face more than Ginger's.
The bed vibrated crazily, with two different tempos going at the same time. The women moved their hips in time with the men's prick thrusts. There were little grunts, moans and sighs.
Candy's thigh was sandwiched between Mark and Paul. Paul touched it with his hand and stroked it, as he worked his hot cock jn Ginger's cunt.
Mark paid no attention to Paul and Ginger. All his concentration was centered in the twisting, stroking cunt of Candy-so slick and warm. She moved it beautifully. He gazed down into her blue eyes, then they kissed. He moved his tongue in her mouth while he moved his rod in her pussy.
The screwing lasted much longer than it had the first time. It was surpassingly good. Paul and Ginger came to climax first, and their fast-pumping hips rocked the bed. Candy caught the fever from them and began to move rapidly. Mark let her rush toward her release as he maintained his steady, deep, firm stroking. Only when she had it and her cunt began to grab at his plunging prick did he speed up, plunging faster and faster, stropping her cuntlips and clit.
She keened with ecstasy, and Paul watched the fascinating play of emotions across his wife's face as she came.
Finally Mark jerked within her and dug deep, jetting his warm, thick juice into the pit of her vagina. Aaaaaaah.
Two luscious comes in one afternoon, and with the most beautiful woman he knew-the wife of good old neighbor Paul. Not bad for a dull Sunday.
CHAPTER TWO
"Oh. Ginger." The cute blonde pushed an errant lock away from her face. She smiled. "Come on in. You'll have to pardon the place. It's a mess."
Ginger glanced around as she entered the small apartment. It was strewn with underwear, stockings and other articles of apparel, all feminine. The ash trays were full, and some dirty dishes stood on a little table.
"Jackie, you really should try to keep your place neater," Ginger said.
"I know it. I'm just a slob, I guess." Her smile begged forgiveness.
Ginger walked to the kitchen and glanced in there-not to check further on Jackie's housekeeping, but to make sure they were alone. Ginger looked in the bathroom and closet, also.
"Satisfied?" Jackie Conlin asked, when the tall redhead rejoined her in the living room.
"I'm sorry," Ginger said, "but I can't be too careful. If my husband ever found out that I come to see you...."
The little blonde in the boyish shirt and pants just looked at her.
"Well, let's get in bed, shall we?" Ginger asked.
"Before we do...."
"Yes?"
Jackie was studiously examining a fingernail. "The landlord just told me he's raising my rent. And you know how other costs are going up."
"The answer is no. I'm giving you enough right now. I can't afford any more."
"Oh, come on! Your husband is doing well. You've told me so yourself."
"I told you just now that I can't afford to give you any more, and that's it. Jackie, you could get a job, you know."
"Then I wouldn't be here in the daytime, when you come to call. You wouldn't like that."
"So I could come on Saturdays and maybe one evening a week."
"No, Ginger." Jackie turned away. "I don't care to get a job. I hate to work."
"Then hit up one of your other lady friends for a raise. I'm paying you all I can afford. Now, do you want to go to bed or don't you?"
She turned and gave Ginger a hard look.
"Oh, all right," she said, and petulantly pulled at the buttons on her shirt.
Watching her, Ginger reached around the back of her neck and lowered her zipper a little ways, then reversed the position of her hands and drew the zipper the rest of the distance. She caught the bottom of her dark dress and pulled it up.
Underneath she wore only dark hose and a black garter belt. No slip, bra or pants.
Jackie didn't wear a brassiere, either. Her shapely, small tits stood up, capped by pale pink rings and rigid nipples. As she lowered her jeans, Ginger sat on the edge of the bed and removed her stockings.
White bikini briefs were Jackie's sole article of underclothing. She quickly stipped these away. Ginger removed her garter belt and stretched out on the rumpled bed.
"You can be mean sometimes," Jackie complained as she joined her.
"And I can be sweet, too. Don't forget that."
Jackie leaned over the other woman and began to kiss her, starting at her forehead and carefully working down. Ginger loved to be showered with kisses and affection. But she didn't care for the slobbering kisses of men. She liked the sweet little pecks of a girl like Jackie-soft and flitting, delivered with a gentle brushing of the lips and sometimes with the flicker of a tonguetip.
Jackie nibbled at her shadowed eyelids ... at her cheeks, nose and chin. Jackie gently placed her lips against Ginger's and fluttered her tongue in and out. She lifted her mouth a little, protruded her tongue, and slowly traced Ginger's lips with it. Lightly. Always lightly, and with no excess of moisture. Men were the ones who liked to swap spit.
As Jackie kissed down Ginger's swan-like throat, she began to caress her tits. She gently tweaked and massaged the firm nipples with her fingertips. Her nails scratched lightly across the boobs, between them, and underneath. She scratched at a nipple in the same way.
Ginger kept her eyes closed and, for the moment, her hands at her sides on the bed. She let passion build within her slowly.
That was another trouble with men. They didn't give a woman sufficient time to get worked up. Oh, maybe some broads-like Candy Patterson, for instance-could get hot in five minutes and be as ready to screw as any stud was. But Ginger had never been able to respond that way, and a number of other girls had told her they couldn't. Ginger suspected that women like Candy put a lot on, the way Ginger herself did. The difference was that they got there barely, by the skin of their teeth, while Ginger hardly ever made it with a man at all. It had been months since she'd come with Mark.
It wasn't that she couldn't. Men didn't leave her completely cold. They just weren't able or willing to give her as much stimulation as she needed. Or else she simply couldn't respond to what they did.
Look at the difference with Jackie. Now, she and Jackie had had trouble, and the other girl probably wasn't feeling too kindly toward her right now. Even so, Jackie was talking a lot of time, working slowly and carefully to build up Ginger's desire before she entered upon the climactic stage of the intercourse.
Cunnilingus shouldn't be rushed into, headlong, the way Mark sometimes did when he thought he was being particularly considerate of her. The trouble was, men regarded cunnilingus as a buildup to screwing or cocksucking or something else, while to Ginger and women like her, it was the desired end of sex.
Jackie knew.
She was licking Ginger's titties. Really licking, not sucking and slobbering all over them. The talented tongue of the little blonde toured each compact, upthrust boob, passing back and forth across the dark, rigid nipples. Finally she centered on the nipples exclusively, lashing lightly at the brownish-red towers and at the pebbly little circles which surrounded them.
Ginger stirred and caressed the back of Jackie's head. She ruffled her short, shingled hairdo.
Jackie's hand brushed the nipples, barely touching them, but sending the most exquisite sensations coursing up to Ginger's brain.
"You're wonderful," Ginger purred.
Jackie kept working, moving down the other woman's front, kissing around her belly button. Ginger caught one of Jackie's suspended but still-taut titties and worked it, stroking downward to the nipple and rolling that rubbery nubbin between her index finger and thumb.
Jackie's face approached Ginger's bush.
Still the time wasn't right for cunnilingus, however. Jackie knew this, as no man would have. She carefully skirted the top of Ginger's pubic triangle-licking, brushing her lips against the smooth flesh. Then she backed up, got between Ginger's thighs, and began to kiss the inner slope of one of those long, shapely columns.
Ginger stirred more. She rubbed her buttocks against the bed. The thigh which Jackie wasn't kissing at the moment swayed back and forth, the knee drawn up.
Jackie's fingertips worked in concern with her lips and tongue. She awakened every nerve end along the thigh she was attending, then turned to the other one and treated it in the same thorough, thrilling way. Moisture trickled in Ginger's cunt.
Jackie leaned close to the dark, meaty slash, blew at it, and ruffled the surrounding auburn hairs.
"Ooh," Ginger said, and her pelvis bumped spastically.
Jackie smiled to herself. "Roll over, hmmm?"
The blonde straightened up to let Ginger change her position. The latter came to rest on her belly. Jackie admired the long, graceful sweep of her spine, and the rounded rise of her buttocks.
She bent to that spine and began to nibble along it. Her hand moved ahead to stroke Ginger's bottom. Jackie knew that the base of the spine was a very sensitive region, and she spent quite a while licking and sucking gently there.
Next she moved onto the buttocks with her mouth. She browsed over each rounded loaf of flesh-licking and nuzzling, scraping the satiny surface with her teeth. Ginger wriggled voluptuously, rubbing her heated pussy against the bed and her ass against Jackie's face.
Jackie's tongue fluttered down into the silken crack, striking at Ginger's asshole. The sensitive anus, tingled. It's muscles spasmed. Ginger elevated her butt, pressing against Jackie's mouth.
But the other girl left her ass and slid down along the back of a thigh. She kissed Ginger from buttock to knee, skipped to the back of the other knee and took the return trip to the tokus.
She raised her head and helped Ginger onto her back once more.
Ginger found Jackie's cunt with her hand, sought out the clitty amid the warm folds of flesh, and stimulated that little pea with a fingertip.
Jackie didn't bend immediately to Ginger's cunt. She remained up on her knees instead. She looked down at the beautiful, red-haired woman and felt a sudden surge of power.
When they weren't actually engaged in sex, Ginger was the domineering one, but now she was in the grip of passion. Jackie, though somewhat aroused herself, was in better control of her faculties, and that meant she was in better control of the situation. She decided to use her momentary power to advantage.
"Twenty dollars a month more," she said to Ginger, 'starting right now."
"Goddamn you!" Ginger exclaimed.
"I mean it." She smiled, but her tone said that she wasn't kidding, "Twenty dollars more or I stop right now."
"You little bitch!"
"Names don't hurt me, Ginger. Give me what I want or I'll leave you hanging."
"All right!" Ginger cried. "You'll give me the increase?"
"Yes! Now love meee!"
Jackie chuckled softly and snuggled down into the warm, moist valley of Ginger's thighs.
She trailed her fingertips through Ginger's dark, curling pubic hairs and rubbed the velvety large lips. The redhead moaned and tilted her cunt upward. Jackie brushed the hairs away from the split and deftly manipulated its folds of flesh, working her way deeper, opening the cunt more and more.
The rosy moistness of Ginger's inner core gleamed invitingly. Jackie brought her mouth very close. Ginger felt-her breath strike the steaming pussy, and she tensed expectantly.
Jackie's tongue moved out and fluttered against the slick surfaces. Every touch was like an electric shock to Ginger, but the jolt was one of pure pleasure. Her pelvis bobbed. She gasped and moaned.
The thrilling tongue-tip delved between the folds of fevered flesh. It moved up and down, in and out. "Ooh, Jack-ee!" Ginger said.
Her fingers worked in Jackie's hair. She rubbed a thigh against the side of Jackie's head. The latter sent a hand up Ginger's front, surrounded a pointy tit, and punished the tip of it just enough to add to the urgency which Ginger felt.
Jackie sank her tongue fully into Ginger's socket. "Nnnnn!" Ginger whined, her tone fluctuating like a siren.
She ground her moist cunt around the tongue which penetrated it. Jackie slid her tongue slowly and feelingly in and out. She lapped up across Ginger's clitty, evoking a sharp little cry from the other woman, then sank it into her cunt mouth again.
Skilled cunt-lapper that she was, Jackie let the excitement build slowly, maintaining constant contact but deliberately holding down the level of intensity for a while. Gradually she increased the tempo of the tongue-fluttering. When Ginger's cries and frenzied motions revealed that she was eager to come, Jackie moved up to Ginger's clit, wrapped her moist lips around it, and sucked.
Ginger squealed and clutched Jackie's head hard, pulling the girl against her crotch. Ginger bumped and quivered, trying to induce her own orgasm. Jackie kept sucking and tonguing her clitty.
Ginger hung for long moments, suspended between need and gratification. She quivered as Jackie sucked gently at her clit and tongued it. Finally she came with a bang, bumping and shuddering with delight. She moaned sharply.
Jackie hung onto the little love tip until her partner's orgasm was complete, then slid her mouth away and sat up. She smiled.
Ginger sighed deeply and closed her eyes. She just lay there and let the world slowly spin to a stop. "You wanta do me this time?" Jackie asked.
"No."
"Okay. Then I'll do myself."
She lay down next to the other woman. Her hands slid into her crotch, which was trimmed with dark fur, giving the lie to the blonde hair on her head. She rubbed her cunt lips, then worked them open with one hand and stroked her other fingers into the moist fleshy furrow.
Ginger didn't watch. She didn't care what Jackie did now.
The little blonde tensed up quickly as she stimulated her clitty with a fingertip. She switched and slid her finger over the clit, down into her quim and out again. In and out ... slide, slide ... tickle, tickle.
She began to sway and grind her hips, shaking the bed.
Ginger wished she would stop, but she didn't say anything.
Jackie breathed harder. Her eyes became anguished. Her mouth lolled open, her tongue protruding to lick at an invisible lover.
Her hand flew, two fingers dancing in her cunt and stroking her clit on every trip. She ascended. Higher. Higher.
Now.
She came sharply, gasping and moaning. She shook. She thumbed her clit hard. Her spasms accelerated.
Ginger finally had to open her eyes and gaze at the other girl. It was slightly repugnant to watch another woman masturbate herself to a climax. But fascinating. Especially now, while she was coming.
The climax seemed quite thorough, and Jackie lapsed back against the bed with a deep sigh of satisfaction.
The truth was that Jackie wouldn't have come nearly so well if she had been alone. Ginger's mere presence (plus the stimulation afforded by Jackie's caressing and kissing of her) had helped a lot.
Now Ginger got off the bed. She went into the bathroom.
When she returned, she began to dress, without saying a word.
"Thanks for the twenty dollars extra," Jackie said, as she sat on the edge of the bed and lit a cigarette.
"You've gotta be kidding," Ginger said as she stood up with her stockings and garter belt on.
"What?"
"That was cheap extortion. Nobody extorts anything from me."
Jackie stood. "Now listen, Ginny...."
"Listen, my ass! I told you. That's it."
The other woman watched hatefully as Ginger raised her dress and slid it down over her head.
CHAPTER THREE
"That stinkin' shit!" said Jackie. "She promised it to me n'then she went back on her lousy word. I oughta fix her good. I really oughta fix her!"
"I think so, too. But you need her, don't you?"
"I don't need anybody!" Jackie exclaimed thickly. She was very drunk. "I can pick up somebody jus' as good as her any time I want. Don't think I can't."
"I'm sure you can, baby."
The dark-haired girl was gently stroking Jackie's tits. Dolores La Monica was just a friend-a girl who got for free what Ginger and a couple of others paid for. But Dolores gave as well as received, on the physical level. And she gave in another way, also-she listened to Jackie and treated her as a person rather than an appliance.
"I know how t'really fix her," Jackie was saying. A little grin came onto her face. "I can fry that broad's bacon good!"
"How are you gonna do that?" Dorlores asked, as she let her hand slide down Jackie's front. She stroked her satin belly and furry snatch.
"I know where her husband works," Jackie said slyly. "I could call him. I wouldn't even hafta tell him who I am."
"Would he believe what you say?"
"I could make him believe me. Ginger has a little mole-a little, little mole beside her pussy, right in the edge of the hair."
"Oh-oh."
"Yeaaah!"
Jackie laughed.
"You're liable to break up her marriage," Dolores warned.
"Don't y'think I know that?" Jackie snapped. "Don't y'think tha's what I wanta do?"
Dolores shrugged and gestured toward the telephone which stood on an end table next to the sofa-bed. Jackie looked at it. Dolores gently stroked the large lips of Jackie's pussy up and down, but Jackie didn't appear to even feel this now. She was very serious as she gazed at the phone.
She glanced at Dolores. "I'm really gonna do it."
"Go ahead."
Jackie reached for the phone.
Mark was stroking the ass of his secretary as she stood beside his chair. They both were supposed to be reading a letter which lay on his desk, but she was thinking about his hand and he was concentrating on the pert roundness of her buttocks as he stroked them through her skirt and panty hose.
After a while, he could no longer tolerate the skirt, and he dropped his hand to get underneath its hem. He slid his hand up the backs of her legs, onto her nylon-sheathed bottom.
Aaah, that was very nice! He rubbed the girl's pliant ass through the sleek, clinging panty. His rod came up hard in his shorts.
Shirley Wagner wriggled sensuously, and her rounded buttocks moved against his hand.
"What do you say we hit the couch?" he suggested.
She gazed down at him, her lips pouted and gleaming. Her hair was soft and brown, her figure nicely curved.
"You take me too much for granted," she said gently. "Just because I did it a couple of times, you think that all you have to do is crook your finger and I'll fall right onto my back."
He slid his hand to her waist, underneath her dress, and lifted the top of her panty hose. He got inside the all-in-one garment and slipped his hand down onto her ass. He fondled the responsive globes directly.
"Ooh, Mark .'..!"
"Mmmm."
"When you do that, I can't think straight."
"But I can get straight. In fact, I'm straight right now. Wanta check?"
She bent slightly to reach into his lap, and this gave him access to her pussy from the rear. He stroked the soft, bearded bun as she felt his stiff tool in his pants and shorts.
"Oh, God ... well hafta get onto the couch!" she said.
Just then, the phone rang.
"Shit!" said Mark.
He snatched the phone up, while keeping his hand on Shirley's snatch.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Hatcher?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"You don't know me. My name's Jackie."
He thought her voice sounded peculiar, as if she were drunk or something. And he wondered why she was calling him.
He asked, "What can I do for you?" (Shirley was grinding gently against his caressing fingers. His stiff pecker throbbed.)
"It's what I can do for you," Jackie said. "I can give you some important information." She giggled.
"Just who arc. you?" He was becoming very irritated. "What do you want?"
"I'm a friend 'a your wife."
"Oh?"
"A very good friend."
"I don't believe I've ever heard her speak of you," he said carefully. "Let's see, your name is Jackie ... uh...?"
"Jus' Jackie. And I'm sure she wouldn't have talked about me. Not t'you, anyway." She laughed again, slyly and drunkenly.
"What are you getting at?"
"Your wife's a Lesbian, Mr. Hatcher! I bet y'didn't know that, huh?"
"You're lying! You're trying to put me on for some reason. Now what is this?" (He had slipped his hand away from Shirley, and she looked down at him curiously.)
"I'm not lying. Your wife's a Lesbian, and I'm her queer playmate." She laughed again. "N'fact, she's been helping to support me."
"You want money, is that it? This is some stinking blackmail fraud."
"It's no fraud, Mr. Hatcher. 'N I don't want any've your money. I just want you know the truth. Your wife's a friggin' Lesbian."
He was beginning to think it might be true. But he didn't want to believe it.
"I can prove I'm tellin' the truth," Jackie went on. "She's got a little mole right next to her cunt. Right?"
"Who are you?" he demanded. "Tell me your full name."
"Unh-uh," she refused. "I hafta hang up now. Have a happy evening with Ginger." She laughed, and the phone clicked dead.
He hung up his receiver slowly, then glanced at Shirley. She was watching him closely.
"What was that all about?" she asked. "Nothing. You'd better go back to your desk."
"You don't want to...?"
"No. I don't want to. Get the rest of those letters out."
"Yes, sir," she snapped, and wiggled her ass to the door.
Jackie was still laughing when she snuggled down next to Dolores. The two girls lay nude, face to face, and kissed. Their tongues dallied sensually.
Jackie grasped Dolores' ass and pulled, forcing their mounds tightly together. They kissed more heatedly as they ground their cunts into each other.
Now that Jackie had fulfilled her threat and finked to Ginger's husband, a dull sense of fear had begun to creep into her alcoholic euphoria. She needed reassurance, and what better way was there to reassure herself than to engage in a frenzied, explosive bout of sex with a compatible partner?
Dolores responded to Jackie's lust. The two young women rolled and tossed together, moaning and clutching at each other's titties, hips and thighs. Their tongues flickered openly at each other, then moved down each other's body as the girls gradually reversed positions.
They sucked each other's tits simultaneously. Their hands delved at their partner's pussy.
Soon Dolores' pussy was within range of Jackie's mouth and vice versa. They snuggled into a cozy 69. Eager lips and tongues opened moist, fragrant snatches. The tongues stroked in and out of the slick meat. The girls sucked each other. Their hands clutched their partner's buttocks.
They moaned and murmured amid the wealth of moist, warm pussy flesh. Thighs scissored against twisting, bobbing heads. Fingertips tickled tingling assholes.
Tension rapidly mounted in both young women until Jackie exploded with a rippling series of bumps and quivers. She tongued Dolores' clit more vigorously as she came, and this brought the other girl along. Dolores convulsed, bumping her wet Cunt against Jackie's face. Cunt honey streamed from both girls, into each other's mouth.
Jackie felt blissfully relieved for a few moments, then fear began once more to take possession of her. This time it grabbed hold with a vengeance.
God, what would Ginger do to her? She was going to have to get out of that pad right away.
Well, so what? The rent was going up. It was too expensive for her, anyway.
"Can I move in with you, kid?" she asked Dolores abruptly. "I mean, just until I find another place."
"Well, sure. I guess so."
"You're sweet," Jackie said, and kissed Dolores' cunt again.
Mark considered his situation carefully for the remainder of that afternoon. He had no doubt that the girl named Jackie had told him the truth. He'd never suspected Ginger of Lesbianism before, but the idea was consistent with a lot of little things about her attitude and responses. And of course the matter of the mole was the clincher. Jackie would have had to know Ginger very well to have known about that. It didn't show when his wife wore a bikini, and it wasn't the sort of thing she would have mentioned. Jackie's knowledge of it could only have been gained through close personal inspection of Ginger's nude body.
All right. So his wife was queer.
This was a shock, needless to say, and it hurt him. Beyond that, there was the question of what he should do about it.
What were his choices?
He could stay on with Ginger, pretending he didn't know, and look more and more to swapping and private outside affairs for his satisfaction. Well, the swapping was fine, and an occasional private fling was good, also, but a man needed something to come home to. He and Ginger were supposed to be building a life together. What did they have to build on now?
A second choice was to confront Ginger with the truth and give her an opportunity to rehabilitate herself. She could begin seeing a psychiatrist and perhaps get straightened out in that way. But what if psychiatry couldn't solve her problem? And how would he know for sure? She was a great actress. She might act up a storm and try to convince him she'd become a hundred-per-cent man's girl, and he wouldn't know whether to believe her or not. He would always be full of doubt about her, as a woman, and about his own prowess as a man.
No. Neither of those alternatives would work. Perhaps, if he and Ginger already had children, he would have to settle for one or the other. But, thank God, he was still free to exercise another option.
Leave her.
That was it.
Painful as the prospect was-because it meant uprooting his well-ordered existence-he would have to do it. It was like agreeing to the amputation of a limb afflicted by gangrene. The gangrene was a fact, and amputation was the only cure.
By the time Mark arrived at home, his mind was firmly made up, and the appearance of his wife in the living room, dressed to please and waiting for him with chilled martinis, didn't change it.
He greeted her civilly, sat down, took the preferred drink, and said, "Ginger, a piece of information came to me today."
"Oh? What was that?"
In the kitchen, their housekeeper was putting the finishing touches on dinner.
"A young woman telephoned me," Mark said. "She called herself Jackie."
He watched his wife. The change in her eyes was unmistakable, and it confirmed his conclusion about Jackie's story, if further confirmation were needed.
But Ginger said, "Jackie who?"
"I don't know. She didn't give me her last name. But then, you know it ... don't you?"
There was a lengthy pause, after which Ginger smiled bravely and said, "No. Should I?"
"Definitely you should. She told me all about you two, and to prove she was speaking the truth, she mentioned your little mole."
Ginger's lips parted, and she gazed at her husband, not knowing what to say.
He went on, "Naturally, there's no point in attempting to continue our farce of a marriage under these conditions."
She leaped to her feet and shrilled, "Mark! How can you say that?"
"Shhh. Bessie will hear."
"Screw Bessie! What do I care about her? Mark, listen...."
She sat down beside him again, and bent forward pleadingly. "It was just a lark. A silly thing. I met that stupid girl in a store where I was shopping. We went to a bar and had a couple of drinks. She propositioned me. I should never have fallen for it, but I did-just to find out what that kind of sex was like. Well, let me tell you, it was lousy. And, of course, she demanded money. I refused her. She threatened to get even, and I suppose calling you was her way to do it."
"How did she know where I work?" he asked calmly.
"Well, she ... made some inquiries, I suppose. She got my married name from my driver's license or something. I saw her looking in my purse. Yes! That was it. That was probably where she got your office number, too. It's in my little address book. All she had to do was look up 'Mark'."
"You're lying. You don't have my office number in your book. You know it by heart. You always have."
She didn't say anything. If she were to insist on the truth of the story she'd told, he would simply demand that she produce the address book ... and, true enough, it did not contain Mark's office number.
Shit! Why had she grasped at a flimsy explanation like that? He was too frigging smart for her.
Oh, God! What was she going to do?
"Mark, it was no worse than our swapping. I was just trying something new, that's all. But I didn't enjoy it. I swear I didn't. That was why Jackie called you-because I had broken the affair off."
"Maybe. But it could have been that you just grew tired of her. How many other women have you screwed around with, Ginger? And how long has it been going on? Have you and Candy Patterson been sexing it up while Paul and I were at work?"
"No! I swear I've never touched Candy. I've never given her any inkling that I wanted to."
"But you did want to, didn't you?"
"No. I told you, Mark, this was just an experiment ... and I'm sorry I ever tried it. It was lousy. I'll never do it again-."
"Jackie said you've been giving her money on a regular basis. Show me the canceled checks for her personal account, will you?"
"I will not! You have to trust me. What good is a marriage without trust?"
He tilted back his head and laughed.
Ginger, normally the cool one, reached her flashpoint. Too much had happened today, and now her whole world was coming apart.
She leaped to her feet. "Goddamn you, how can you be so self-righteous? You screw your neighbor's wife, and you've had other women since we've been married. Don't try to tell me you haven't."
"All right. Women. And I'm a man. I've never screwed around with a fairy."
"You never, never have? Even just to see what it was like?"
"I never, never have," he insisted. "I don't want to know what it's like. I have no interest in the subject. I'm normal."
"You hypocritical mate-swapper!"
"You Lesbian queer," he retorted, and got up to head for the bedroom. He intended to pack some clothes.
Ginger seized an ash tray and threw it at him. It crashed into the wall, missing his head by mere inches.
He whirled and rushed her, grasping her by an arm and around the waist. He tossed her onto the sofa, face-down, and held her in that position as he pulled up her cocktail gown with his other hand.
She wore dusky hose, black garters, and fancy, lace-trimmed pants. They were made of sheer, black nylon and clung to her butt like a lover's caress.
She had made quite a racket as he wrestled her onto the couch and held her there. This, plus the sound of the crashing porcelain, caused Bessie, the colored maid, to rush in from the kitchen. She arrived just in time to see Mark pull his wife's pants down and deliver a stinging blow with the flat of his hand to her bare, white ass.
"Mister Hatcher!" Bessie yelled. "Glory me!"
She gaped for another few moments as Mark rained a succession of blows onto Ginger's writhing, quivering buttocks, then turned and fled back to the kitchen. This was something she shouldn't mix up in, obviously.
White folks really could carry on sometimes!
CHAPTER FOUR
After soundly spanking his wife and leaving her in a quivering, crying heap on the sofa, Mark stomped into his room threw some clothes into a suitcase, and strode out of his personal car-a fire-red Toronado.
Candy, watching from her kitchen window, called to her husband in the other room, "Looks like Mark's leaving on a trip."
"Yeah?"
Paul joined his wife in the kitchen, and got a glimpse of Mark backing his car out. "Christ, he looks mad! Do you suppose he and Ginger had a fight?"
"I don't know. He did look kind of angry, and he was rushing. Maybe he's late for a plane."
"His company never sends him out of town," Paul said. "They had a fight. He's walking out on her. Shit! Where does that leave us with the swapping?"
Candy turned and gazed at him.
An end to the swap dates with Mark and Ginger was going to hurt her more than it would hurt Paul. She had a thing for Mark.
Gradually her mind, which wasn't the world's quickest, progressed to a new daring possibility:
If Mark was leaving Ginger, it meant there might be an opportunity for her to fill the void in his life, without Paul and Ginger having to figure in the picture at all. Who cared about swapping, anyway? It was Mark she enjoyed, and she would enjoy him even more in private than she did with Paul and Ginger around.
Mark had no thought for her as he backed out of the curving driveway, whirled his car around, and laid scratch in taking off. He had meant to handle this nasty situation coolly, to prove that even a marital breakup needn't ruffle one's composure. But Ginger, the bitch, had taken to screaming and throwing things. That had set him off. Now he was as hot under the collar as she had been before he'd beaten her anger into submissiveness with his hand against her bare ass. And he was hot in another way, too. The sight of her white, billowy butt, twisting and turning-and the way it had jiggled as he spanked it-had congested his loins. Shit, he needed a woman!
Still, he didn't think of Candy. She was the wife of Paul, a neighbor, and was there for off limits when he (Mark) prowled alone.
No. He would go to a bar. He needed a few drinks, anyway. And he would scare up some nookey while he was at it.
Back at the house, Ginger's anger had flared again. But now it was directed at Jackie. That stinking little tramp! Oh, would she get hers! She would "get it harder and more painfully than Ginger had gotten it from Mark. Then she would call Mark in the morning and tell him she'd lied about Ginger keeping her.
The redhead leaped from the sofa and headed toward the bedroom to change clothes.
"Miz Hatcher?"
Ginger turned and found the maid gazing at her uncertainly.
"What is it, Bessie?"
"You want me to go ahead and serve dinner, ma'am?"
"No. I'm going out. And Mr. Hatcher won't be returning this evening."
"But what am I gonna do with dinner?"
"Eat it yourself or run it down the garbage disposer," Ginger said, and continued on to the bedroom, unzipping her dress on the way.
"YTcnow, when I saw you two girls in that bar, I had no idea that in just a little while I'd be alone with both of you like this."
One of the girls-a brunette named Donna-laughed softly and leaned back on the bed. "You looked like the type who could take care of both of us, so we figured, why should either of us wait for anyone else? Right, Stel?"
Stella, a rather angular but pretty blonde, agreed, with a cozy smile. She sat at the other side of the bed. Mark was between them.
The threesome had arrived in the motel room just a couple of minutes ago. Nothing had been said about payment to the girls, and Mark had concluded that he'd happened onto a rarity-two chicks out on the prowl who would take their sex any way they could get it, even from the same man on the same bed.
That suited him fine.
He felt horny enough tonight to screw two babes and have juice left over.
"Well, let's get undressed, shall we?" he suggested.
"Sounds like a fine idea," Stella said, and began helping him off with his jacket.
Donna went to work on his tie.
This was refreshing, having a girl (in this case, girb) start pulling off his clothes before he could begin stripping her (them).
His jacket left him, then his tie, and two sets of hands opened the buttons on his shirt. The shirt was pulled away. Eager female fingers picked at his belt, opened it, and opened the top of his trousers. He felt his zipper sliding down as a hand brushed his peter through his pants.
Both girls tugged at his trousers, pulling them down. They took off his shoes and socks, then removed the pant legs. He was left in his Jockey shorts.
"Wait a minute," he said as, giggling, the two girls gripped the waistband of that final garment. "Let me even up this thing, will you?"
"Please!" Donna said, and twisted, turning her hack to him.
He yanked her zipper down, exposing a black brassiere strap. She gave a little jump, flipping her skirt out from under her butt. He pulled the dress up. Under it she wore black hose, a cute, brief panty-girdle of the same color, and the black bra.
She lay down, laughed, and kicked at him. He caught the leg, flipped off her shoe, and slid his hands up the shapely column at the top of her stocking. He flipped her garters loose and pulled the nylon down.
Stella was removing her own dress and slip while this was going on.
Mark removed Donna's other stocking. Then he took a good double grip on her stretchy black-lace girdle, and pulled it down. She laughed, lifting her butt, and plopped back against the bed again, legs in the air. She kicked free of the clingy Spandex and spread her legs for him.
She watched his reaction as he gazed at her rosy cunt in its thicket of black curls.
"That looks good!" he said with some feeling, as his eyes narrowed on the tempting target.
"Take off my bra," Donna said, and quickly rolled onto her stomach.
He gazed at her bare, rounded ass.
"Hurry up, honey," Stella said from behind him.
He bent, ran his hand up Donna's legs, over her quivery bottom, and up her back to the bra strap, which he quickly disconnected.
She drew her bra away as she rolled onto her back. Her tits wobbled back and forth and trembled all over. Their brown nipples stood up, thick and tall.
He was about to fall atop Donna, but Stella tugged at his arm. He turned toward her and gazed at her slim loveliness in beige hose, a white garter belt, and pink lace-trimmed bikini briefs. Her little tits stuck up, bare and cute as could be, with small pink nipples extended.
Mark raised his hand and brushed it across the jutting nipples. This shook the taut boobs prettily.
"Mmm!" Stella said, and leaned toward him, offering her mouth.
"Well, I like that!" exclaimed Donna as Mark kissed her friend.
By way of retaliation against Stella, the brunette dug at Mark's Jockey briefs, working her hand in through the fly and bringing out his stiff pecker.
"Oh, that's nice!" she said, and bowed her head, catching the swollen knob in her mouth.
"Aargh!" he growled, and straightened up. He closed his eyes and went tense as a drawn bow while Donna's delightful lips and tongue made passionate love to his prick.
"Oh, Donna!" exclaimed Stella in disgust. "Do you have to suck cock right away?"
"Uunng ... uunng ... uunng," was all the response Donna could make, as she went at Mark's dong hungrily, reaching into his shorts now to fondle his tense, hairy balls.
Stella leaned close to him, rubbing his bare chest and pressing a stiff-nippled titty against his arm. His hand fell to her nylon-sheathed lap, and he stroked her burning cut lips through the silken cloth.
At this rate, he wasn't going to last long, and the evening would prove a failure for the girls, as well as something less than a smashing success for him.
Regretfully, because her mouth felt so good, he lifted Donna's head off his prick. She gazed at him, a little glassy-eyed and sultry with passion.
"You first," he told her, and helped her lie down on her back.
He opened her legs, boosting her knees up, and he climbed between them.
"That's no fair!" complained Stella.
He ignored her for the moment and fell forward onto his elbows, gathering Donna's full tits around the sides and shoving them together. This caused her prominent nipples to poke very high. He brushed his lips back and forth across each rubbery nub, then took them into his mouth, by turn, and sucked each one delightedly.
Donna wriggled her hips, trying to catch the tip of his pecker in her slot, but his rod was jammed upward, between their bodies. When the time was right, he reached down, grasped his prick, and pointed it to the soft, rosy mouth of her yearning cunt.
"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed. "Screw me! Oh, shit, screw me haaard!"
He sank his cock all the way into her pussy in a single stroke. Stella could only watch and imagine how good his rod would feel inside her own itchy twat as he stroked it in and out of Donna-long, slow and hard.
Stella sat up and wriggled her compact ass against the bed. Suddenly she pulled at her garters, unsnapping them. She drew her stockings down. Next she whipped her garter belt away (she had worn it on top of her bikini pants). Now she lifted her rump and took her pants down.
Mark glanced and noted that her pubic bush was brown. Her pussy was juicy and pink, and the sight of it stimulated him to thrust his cock into Donna even harder.
"Oooh, bay-beeee!" she exclaimed, and moved more vigorously with him.
She lifted her legs at his sides, bicycled them a few times, then hooked them around the backs of his thighs. She pulled her pussy to him as he slammed his bone-hard pecker in. Slap! Slap! Sock! Sock! Bang! Bump! Screw) ... screw ... screw!
Stella threw herself atop him, seeking to pull him off and out of her friend. But Mark didn't want to leave Donna's nice warm cunt until he had screwed her to orgasm. He worked harder and faster, and Stella was forced to straighten up.
Donna began to wail and kick at his flanks. He felt her pussy grab his bobbing cock, then she trembled all over. He kept plunging his turgid prick in and out of her as she climaxed fully.
How he kept himself from going off at the same time, he didn't know, unless it was just a matter of doing what he felt he had to do in order to keep both girls happy.
He succeeded admirably in that regard, for his cock was still at full extension and hard as a billy club as he pulled it out of Donna's blissfully-satisfied cunt.
He scrambled off her and atop Stella, who had hurriedly flopped onto her back and spread her legs. His pre-oiled tool slid all the way into her slick, snug snatch, and he began to screw her vigorously from the start.
Stella bumped and swung her ass, getting excellent leverage as she pressed her feet against the mattress and kept her knees high. Mark grunted and slammed his hard cock into her rhythmically.
Donna sat up and watched.
Stella's little tits trembled. Mark, propped all the way up on his arms, enjoyed the sight of them. He twisted his upper body without missing a beat and dropped his open mouth around one of the quivering titties. He sucked and tugged at the boob. Stella moaned. He turned to the other tit as he kept pumping his prick in and out of her twisting, banging twat.
The sight excited Donna all over again. She leaned close and murmured to Stella, "Baby, is it good?"
"It's boss! Oh, it's boss! Shit, I love it!"
She moved as if she couldn't get enough of his plunging, rock-hard pecker. He couldn't get enough of her cunt right then. He was surging to his climax, screwing as if his very life depended on it.
"Oooo!" Donna exclaimed softly.
Stella panted and squealed. She came just as he began to spurt his hot come into her. He jerked and heaved. She quaked. They locked each other up in their arms and legs, clinging until the final tremors of the blissful mutual orgasm were spent.
Slowly they slid apart, Mark rolling onto his back between the two girls.
The sight of Stella getting it had turned Donna back on, and she immediately rose above Mark, supporting herself on hands and knees. Her hanging, swaying tits brushed back and forth against his hairy chest, then dragged up to his face. She laughed and wiggled her shoulders, slapping his cheeks with her heavy, soft boobs.
"Hey, baby, have a heart!" he groaned. "I'm all frigged out."
"Then I'll have t'get you up again. D'you think I can? Hmmm?"
Her hand surrounded his limp cock and began to fondle' it as she rested her soft titties against his chest and pressed her moist pussy to his thigh. Her mouth found his and licked at it. His tongue rose to dally with hers, outside of both their mouths.
Stella turned her head and watched their tongues stroking.
She looked down at his flaccid dick, which Donna was working in her hand.
"You're outta luck, baby," Stella drawled, still happily relaxed from the vigorous screwing. "He's limp as a noodle."
"I'm gonna unlimp him," the other girl insisted, as she continued to fondle his dick. She giggled. "Hey, is that a word?"
She suctioned her warm, wet mouth down over Mark's and sank her tongue. He felt her large nipples grow hard against his chest.
He wished he could do likewise down below. It was a shame, when a man was next to such a willing pair of girls, that he couldn't snap back into screwing condition right away.
Donna slid her mouth off his and down over his chin.
She licked her way along his throat and into the dark, coarse hairs on his chest. Stella watched.
The dark-haired girl licked at each of his nipples. Her flowing tresses tickled his chest and belly. She moved down toward his navel.
Stella snuggled closer. She placed her hand against his cheek and turned his face toward her. As her mouth approached his, she protruded her pink tongue. She licked into his mouth before their lips touched.
They stroked tongues as Donna kissed his belly button and continued to fondle his dong. She had rubbed most of the cunt juice and cock cream off it by now, but it remained highly flavored.
Perhaps Donna wanted that taste, for she moved her mouth to his cock, wrapping her moist, soft lips around the knob of it.
"She loves to give head," Stella explained, and licked into his ear. She rubbed his chest at the same time.
He was getting about as much stimulation as a man could possibly receive, and he began to respond to it tangibly. His cockhead swelled in Donna's mouth. He pushed it against her palate and it slid to her throat. She now had part of the shaft, as well as the knob, and it rapidly assumed full growth.
Her mouth became stuffed with it. She worked avidly, sucking and licking and bobbing her head. Her tits bounced against his thigh.
He reached and inserted a finger into her quim. He reached the other way and stuck a finger into Stella. He stroked both girls' cunts as Donna sucked his prick and Stella shoved her tongue into his mouth. The latter kept rubbing his chest, as well.
When Donna had tasted his salty, musky pecker to her heart's content, she raised her head and quickly climbed atop him. She settled her yawning cunt down over his upthrust cock and began to gyrate wildly, rotating and bobbing up and down.
He grasped her bouncy tits and squeezed them, thumbing the nipples. He worked them up and down. He slapped them together. He groaned and rammed his hot dick rhythmically upward, pronging her as she screwed him.
Stella watched for a while, then stretched out beside the copulating pair. She took Mark's hand and carried it to her open crotch.
"Diddle me," she requested, and he slid two fingers into her swampy cunt.
He frigged her energetically while he bumped upward into Donna and enjoyed her very active screwing. Slowly, but surely, all three approached a climax.
The lightning struck Donna first. Her cock-clutching convulsions caused Mark to frig Stella all the harder, really rubbing her clitty as he stroked in and out of her slit.
She curled her cunt against his hand and wiggled wildly. She came, gasping and bumping.
Finally he got his rocks off, fountaining upward into Donna's still-quivering pussy.
He hadn't thought once about Ginger, all the time he'd been with the girls in the motel room, and he'd gotten all the meanness and lust out of his system. So the pickup had served its purpose.
But, as all things must, this erotic diversion came to an end. The girls had to go home, they said, and Mark was left alone in the motel.
In spite of his exhaustion, it took him a little while to fall asleep. His dreams were chaotic.
When his portable alarm clock told him it was time to get dressed and go to work, he wanted to sleep some more. Not only did he still fell tired physically, but he didn't feel like facing the world. His life was so frigged up, he hardly knew where to begin in an effort to straighten it out.
He could think about Ginger more objectively now, without the anger of the night before. That made it more difficult to work things out, because he and Ginger did share a common viewpoint on life. But, goddamn it to hell, she was a frigging Lesbian! How the shit could he live with a Lesbian ... and build a future with her ... and have kids? No.
He went to the office feeling dull and downcast.
CHAPTER FIVE
The evening before, Ginger had raced her Fiat Spicier into town, heading directly for Jackie's apartment house.
She let herself into the apartment, and found it deserted. Jackie had moved out.
So the slut was afraid and running. Well she might!
Where to find her? There were places where people of her kind gathered. Ginger didn't like to go into the gay bars, but she'd done it when she was on the prowl. That's where she'd found Jackie.
She decided to prowl again tonight. Her motive, at first, was merely to find the girl who'd screwed up her life. But matters don't always work out according to plan. Sometimes one looks for one thing and finds something else."
Something else indeed!
"Mmm ... oh, honey ... you have the cutest tits."
"Do you like them?"
"They're perfect."
"Suck them for me, will you?"
"With pleasure."
Ginger lay back against the pillow and enjoyed the voluptuous sensations which the exotic Chinese girl imparted. Chang Yen was her name. She had cool, almond eyes, a soft saffron complexion, and the most beautiful long, black hair that Ginger had ever seen. Add to this a lithe, slender figure which was the personification of girlish grace, and you have the most exotically delightful creature Ginger had ever met.
What was more, she seemed to appreciate Ginger fully as much as Ginger appreciated her. She was an artist. (Her apartment was filled with surrealist paintings which were boldly colorful.) Ginger had worked as a clothes designer before she was married and still dabbled in painting, when the spirit moved her. So they shared a common interest in art.
But their principal interest in common was acted out upon Chang Yen's wide, luxurious bed. Yen had carefully removed Ginger's clothes, except for her clingy, black bikini briefs, and was now paying delicate homage to her female charms, point by point.
The points on which she was concentrating at the moment were the turgid, up-thrusting tips of Ginger's titties.
Ginger purred like a pampered pussycat and writhed gently against the bed as Yen licked from nipple to nipple, surrounding each little flesh-dart with her sliding, flickering tongue, then taking the nipple up into her mouth and sucking on it gently as she continued to tongue it.
She stroked Ginger's belly. Her long fingernails scratched Ginger's flesh just firmly enough to stimulate every nerve ending beneath her silken skin. Her hand moved down to Ginger's thigh, and her loving mouth slid to Ginger's tummy.
The fire in Ginger's flesh burned hotter and hotter. Her cunt oozed warm honey. How she wanted Yen Chang to get down there and lap it up!
How she wanted to lap Yen's cunt, also. This was going to be a mutual affair tonight, in every sense of the word.
She had forgotten Jackie for the moment. (Was it any wonder?) Anyway, it would be easier to find that little bitch later, after she'd let her guard down. Right now Ginger had more important things to think about:
Yen's delightful tongue and lips; her long, exotic nails; her tumbling, caressing long black hair; her tits; her pussy. Everything about her.
But for the moment, Yen remained fully clothed. She wore a colorful Chinese gown with a slit skirt and long, dark stockings. She was the active, aggressive one. Ginger usually managed it so that her partner took the initiative, whether the partner was a bulldyke or not. She shunned women who were masculine in appearance and manner, but not all bulldykes were like that. By the same token, switch-hitters like herself could be made more aggressive by the way they were treated. She didn't care for the so-called femmes, who alternately simpered and whined; they aggravated her. She liked real women, and the exotic creature who made love to her tonight fitted into that category perfectly.
Yen hooked her long-nailed fingers around the elastic band at the top of Ginger's bikini pants and slowly drew the garment down. Ginger glowed inwardly as her most intimate charms were exposed to her new lover's view. Yen left her panties at mid-thigh for a moment and slid her lean, tapering fingers down over Ginger's pelt, along her oozing cunt lips.
"Oooh, you're so ready!" Yen exclaimed, smiling happily.
"I want you."
"What do you want, darling?" she asked as she continued to caress her pussy. "Tell me."
"I want you to kiss it."
"Kiss what? Tell me. Tell me."
"I want you to kiss my cunt, sweetheart."
"Oooh, yes. Tell me more," she directed, as she slid Ginger's panties completely off.
"I want you to lick it and suck it. I want you to eat me."
"And what will you do?" Yen asked her, as she carefully arranged Ginger's legs.
"I'll eat you. I'll suck your lovely pussy. Please take your clothes off now, so I can see it."
Yen sat up and tossed her head, causing her long, black hair to whip over her shoulder. She gazed down at the naked, red-haired woman.
"Do you want to undress me?" Yen asked.
"You do it," Ginger said. "Let me just watch."
The Chinese-American shrugged and gracefully stood up. She opened the several snaps on her gown and drew it upward on her body.
What a body it was! So sleek and svelte, with such a warm, golden tone, as smooth as rich cream. She wore dark panty hose and a mere wisp of a bra which was black and lacy.
She shrugged the bra away, liberating her cute tits. They had small, brown nipples. She bent and stripped down her panty hose. Her pubic hair was a tiny tuft of black.
"Lovely...!" Ginger murmured.
Yen smiled in the delightful half-warm, half-aloof way she had. She lifted her long hair back over her shoulders, and returned to the bed, kneeling between Ginger's steepled, widespread knees.
She gazed at the succulent rosiness of Ginger's cunt.
As she bent forward, her hair tumbled against Ginger's thighs. Her warm breath touched Ginger's moist pussy. Yen came closer. Suddenly she struck, parting the cunt with her thumbs just before her mouth sank into it. Her tongue penetrated deep into the quivering, yearning crevice.
"Oooooh!" Ginger wailed, and she began to grind her wet, soft pussy around the fluttering tongue, against the pressing, sucking lips of the other girl.
Yen twisted and turned, boring in harder. She drew honey from the flowing quim and swallowed it. Her tongue lapped like a cat's at a dish of rich cream.
Her fingernails scratched up and down Ginger's body, over her titties, along her thighs, across her belly-up and down, up and down. Ginger bumped gently against the sucking mouth and moaned. The most wonderful thrills were slamming through her.
Yen stopped and sat up on her knees. "Do you like to go both ways at once?" she asked.
"Oh, yes! I want to. Hurry! I need your lovely cunt."
Yen wasted no time in turning so that Ginger could cuddle up to her pussy as she went at Ginger's. The two women ate each other ravenously as their thighs scissored next to each other's twisting, bobbing head. They stroked each other's titties. They grasped at each other's wiggling, quivering rump. They moaned into the warm softness of their lover's cunt.
Time crawled. Passion reigned. The world was a most complete and lovely place as they received and gave excitement in equal measure, the tongue of one inspiring the other to use her tongue even more fervently, and this in turn drawing greater passion from the first.
They rose together to a wonderful climax, heaving and clutching at each other as their come flowed into each other's mouth. They slid apart slowly.
Ginger spent most of the evening in the lovely young artist's pad, and, when it was time to leave, it was too late and Ginger was too tired to make any further effort to locate Jackie.
Tomorrow was another day.
It wouldn't hurt, in fact, to wait for several days-a week or so, even-before she got hold of Jackie. By then Mark would probably be thinking about returning to the fold, anyway. He would have had an opportunity to think everything over and to realize that a little Lesbian play wasn't any worse than heterosexual swapping. Also, he would have rediscovered the fact that a single man's existence wasn't all it was touted to be.
Ginger had made it possible for him to get all the sex excitement he wanted and still remain married to her, receiving the advantages that flowed from that, as well. It was a great deal. He would come to his senses and appreciate it. Then when she forced Jackie to "confess" she had lied before, the storm would be over, and the Hatchers' ship of matrimony would have clear sailing again.
It all fell neatly into place in her mind that evening. She always felt at her best, and had her most optimistic outlook on the world, right after she'd received a very good Lesbian loving. The one she'd gotten (and given) that night had been' one of the best of all time.
She drove home and settled down to a restful night's sleep, in spite of the unaccustomed silence and the loneliness of occupying the large bed alone.
When she awoke, she was shocked all over again by Mark's absence. Gradually she adjusted herself to the truth. After a shower and a cup of black coffee, she felt as if she could cope with the day.
Men didn't give her much pleasure sensually, but having a husband was important in her life. She wanted children. She wanted a secure, companionable future. All of that depended on a man. And the man she wanted was Mark.
She would have to get him back.
He sat at his desk disconsolately. Even Shirley's shapely, wiggling ass couldn't cheer him up. His life was in a muddle. The phone rang, and he reached to answer it. "Hatcher speaking."
"Oh, it is, hmm?" the honeyed female voice mocked playfully.
Who was it? Of course he knew. But as dull as he was this morning, he couldn't identify the caller.
He forced a chuckle. "I realize I should know who this is."
"You'd better," she said, and laughed with him. "Come on. Don't tease."
"It's Candy." He perked up.
"I saw you drive off last night," she went on. "You looked grim."
"I was."
"Trouble with Ginger?"
"Yes."
"I should say I'm sorry."
He was picking up on the conversation. He sat erect in his chair and felt a hundred per cent better. "Well, I'm waiting," he said.
"I'm not going to say it. I'm not sorry. I don't wish you any hell, Mark, but ... well, I've always been a little jealous of Ginger."
"But we had each other at the swap parties."
"That wasn't enough. I want you for myself. Aren't I shameful?"
"No. I appreciate your telling me. The truth is, I've always felt pretty much the same."
"Have you, Mark? Honestly?" Her voice turned husky and very warm.
"Yes." He seemed to have to go on and say, "How about having lunch with me today?"
"Oh, Mark, I'd love to!" She hesitated. "But do you think it's all right?"
"I think it would be wonderful! One o'clock. I'll meet you at Pepito's. Do you know where that is?"
"Yes. In the bar?"
"Fine."
His morning was twice as bright after that. He even slapped Shirley playfully on her bottom the next time she undulated past his desk.
She turned to him with a smile. "We have some unfinished business from yesterday," she said.
"Yes. And it's going to have to stay unfinished for a while. I have a heavy schedule this afternoon."
"Hmm!" was all she said, and she wiggled back to the outer office.
Shirley he could screw any time. But to have Candy all by himself, in a motel, would be a rare treat. That's where he hoped to take her that afternoon. This was the "heavy schedule" he'd just mentioned.
"Oh, I absolutely love it when you kiss and tongue me down there! Paul won't do that. He's so silly and narrow-minded. Spend a lot of time with me, Mark. You're such a wonderful lover!"
It was a sweet speech to hear, especially from such a beautiful woman. It caused Mark's ego to swell on a par with his pecker.
They were nearly naked on the motel bed. Candy wore tan, sleek stockings, held up by a pink garter belt. Mark wore his socks. He was lounging between her legs, gazing at the pussy which he was about to kiss.
Christ, it was a beautiful cunt!
There was just enough hair around it, and the hair was light enough to give an impression of delicacy. The little lips of the pussy didn't protrude; they were just visible now between the slightly-parted larger lips, and they were a nice, fresh tint of pink. A pearl of moisture appeared as Mark watched, and it slowly slid down the meaty labia.
He moved closer.
"Yesssss!" Candy hissed, and her hands fluttered about his head.
He stroked her pussy with the tips of his fingers. He manipulated the slick, soft lips and saw more moist pinkness-a deeper shade of rose, the farther in he looked. Her channel was open for him, inviting his tongue and prick.
He placed both hands underneath her soft, full thighs, at their very tops, and spread her pussy with his thumbs. This really opened her up; he could look way in. At the top of her inner gash, her little clitty stood out, rosy and tense with excitement.
"Oh, don't tease me!" Candy moaned. "Eat it! Get your mouth down there. Get your tongue in." She was nearly beside herself with lust. She didn't care what she said now.
He hoped she wouldn't care what she did after he had given her a damned good lapping. He hoped she would be so grateful that she would reciprocate in an oral way. Having her suck his cock would be a rare thrill. He had the feeling she'd never done that before with any man.
He closed in on the succulent, rosy twat, holding his mouth partly open. They touched, and Candy said something that sounded like, "Eeeeeeee!"
Mark pressed his lips into the moist, meaty folds. He tasted her and breathed in her fragrance. It was all just as it should be-clean, fresh and very female. He worked his lips and protruded his tongue. He sank the loving length of rigid flesh into her pussy channel.
"Ooooh!" she exclaimed.
He heard her dimly, as if from far away, but he felt her hands strongly as they tightened about his head. She obviously wanted to make sure he stayed right there and gave her all the mouth-loving she needed.
He had elected to give her a complete suck-off-to make her come that way-then stop, with his cock still hard and high. He didn't want to sink his pecker into her cunt until she'd had a chance to put her mouth around it, if she would.
He worked his tongue slowly and carefully in and out of her slick crevice. He felt her cunt quiver as he stroked its delicate surface. She bumped a little, also, but she restrained this urge sufficiently so that he didn't lose his possession of her honey hole. It rotated gently around him.
He licked and lapped and swallowed some of her rich, slippery juice. He enjoyed it. He burrowed in deeper and tongued her cunt even more ardently. She cooed, moaned, and sobbed with delight. She wasn't gripping his head any longer. She knew he was going to stay right with her and ride her hot, sopping pussy to a blissful come. Her hands fluttered over his head, through his thick, black hair, and to his ears, where they tickled the delicate surfaces.
She twisted excitedly against him, quivering and bumping a little. Her thighs kept brushing his cheeks-first one, then the other.
He stroked his tongue in and out of her cunt mouth, as if he were screwing her with his prick. But when she reached a certain level of excitement, which he correctly perceived, he withdrew his tongue from her slit altogether and'slid it upward across her clitty. He lapped at that little nub of flesh, pressed and rolled it. Finally he caught it between his lips and sucked gently as he wagged his tongue back and forth across its tip.
She hit it perfectly, blissfully, shaking and thrilling from her toes to her scalp. Her little clitty spasmed again and again. He kept his lips around it, sucking and tonguing all the time.
At last, the orgasm was over, and she lapsed motionless against the bed, sighing with deep satisfaction.
Mark raised his head and smiled at her.
"Oh, angel!" she purred. "Lover ... darling ... oh, I love you so much!"
She leaned forward and caught his head between her hands, drawing him forward for a warm, moist kiss on the mouth. The kiss was extremely moist, because his mouth still bore much of her cunt honey. She must have tasted it, but it didn't seem to bother her. She filled his mouth with her twisting tongue, and they clung together for a long while.
When they finally separated, she remained sitting. He was kneeling between her spread thighs. She glanced down and gave a little gasp when she saw how large and stiff his upthrust cock was.
"I almost forgot about you," she admitted. "You didn't come."
"No, I didn't. I almost got excited enough, but my prick has to have something around it, some friction."
"I love your prick!" she said with considerable feeling. She wrapped her delicate hand around the swollen knob.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back.
"Do you like to have me handle it?" she asked.
"Of course." The words came out on a heavy, passionate breath.
"Would you like to have me do something else?"
He tensed more. "What?" he asked-not that he didn't know, but he wanted to hear her say it.
"Suck it," she said, and it was clear that she was getting excited again.
(That was one of the great things about tonguing a woman to a climax. She bounced back quickly. It wasn't like giving her a vigorous screwing, which drained the average woman of desire for a while.)
"I'd like to have you do it if you want to do it," he said carefully.
"I never have." She kept looking down at his cock and touching it with her fingertips.
He didn't say anything. It was difficult to keep from imploring her to go down, or even to grasp her blonde head and force it down on his up-standing dick. He kept his eyes closed and his head tilted back slightly.
"I believe I would like to try it," she said tentatively.
Shit, why didn't she just go ahead?
"How should we sit?" she asked, her voice quavering a little.
"If you really want to do it, let me stretch out on my back. You can bend over me."
"Is that the best way?"
"Yes."
She drew her knees back and to the side, making room for him to lie down. He noted that her eyes were worried. She was afraid she wasn't going to like it.
Well maybe she wouldn't. Some girls couldn't learn to suck cock to save their lives, just as some men couldn't stomach a woman's pussy-even the cleanest, when it belonged to a female they adored. On the other hand, there were girls (like Donna, last night) who sucked every cock they could get their hands on, and there were guys who didn't feel a sexual episode was complete unless they were able to tongue a cunt as well as frig it.
Mark would have bet that Candy would take to cocksucking, once she got over her first irrational fear. He hoped he was right, because he believed he would enjoy very much the feel of her sucking mouth on the head of his dick.
He lay down. His rigid prick slanted to the side. Candy got up on her knees, her taut titties swaying. They had just enough bounce to them-a beautiful set!
Her blonde hair curved down at either side of her face. She gazed at his passion-filled pecker.
"Don't do any more than you feel like," he said, wanting to make it as easy for her as possible. "Hold it up with your hand. Then just touch it with your tongue, at first, if you want."
She took it between her forefinger and thumb and held it straight up from his black bush.
"I'm glad it doesn't have skin all over it," she said.
"Like Paul's, hmm?"
"Yes." She kept looking at the cock.
He kept talking, to help build up her confidence. "A foreskin doesn't make much difference, if a man keeps himself clean. A penis with foreskin is more sensitive, they say. That can be good or bad."
She kept gazing at it. Slowly she leaned closer.
He held his breath.
He watched her pink tongue protrude. Her golden hair tickled the skin of his belly and thighs. Her breath touched the head of his pecker. It jerked.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, and straightened up a little.
He chuckled. "Don t let it scare you."
"You won't ... go off, will you?"
"Of course not. Not if you don't want me to."
"I'd rather you didn't."
"All right."
She bent toward him once more. The suspense was excruciating. Mark steeled himself, to keep his pecker from jerking again. She held it carefully by the shaft. He sighted down his chest and belly, watching as her pink tongue came out. It approached the head of his prick.
It touched.
Oh, it was hard to keep from jerking now! But he managed. Candy withdrew her tongue, then touched it against his cockhead again. Once more he steeled himself.
Her tongue fluttered.
Suddenly, with a little growl, she dropped her head fully forward, wrapping her soft, moist lips around the knob of his dong. It swelled and twitched a little, but her mouth held it steady. She growled some more and sucked.
The sensation which he received was wonderful. His scalp felt as if it were lifting off. He'd had his cock sucked many times, but it had never seemed so goddamned good ... except perhaps on the very first occasion.
Candy dropped her mouth farther down on his cock. She worked her tongue as best she could, with that huge knob in her mouth. She sucked too hard.
But he didn't want to say anything to her. He clenched his fists, jammed his eyes shut, and grooved with the marvelous thrills which were crashing into his brain.
Suddenly she lifted her head, and the wonderful sensation stopped. He opened his eyes and found she was smiling at him softly.
He forced a little smile himself, but he remained tense.
"How was it?" he asked in a peculiarly strained voice.
"It wasn't bad at all. Did I do it well?"
"You sucked a little too hard, and you didn't bob your head. But I loved it."
"I was afraid you'd come."
"Don't worry. I can control myself."
"You mean, it's safe for me to do it some more?"
"I'll tell you when to stop."
She bowed once more to his prick, and this time there was no hesitancy. She took the throbbing, plum-like head in her mouth and sucked gently as she laved it with her tongue.
Oh, she'd picked up on this quickly! She was doing it just right. The sensation which Mark received was intensely good.
He worked his hands tenderly in her hair.
She bobbed her head a little, sliding her lips against his corona, and this was almost too good!
Finally he croaked, "Okay! Stop." He helped lift her head.
She gazed at him lovingly.
"Baby, you're wonderful!" he exclaimed, and quickly sat up.
He guided her to a reclining position and mounted her. Her cunt was very moist and open, and it received his entire spit-coated prick in a single slippery thrust which gave him another mighty charge.
He began to screw her vigorously, having to fight the impulse to launch into short, rapid strokes right away. She raised her legs over his back and pumped with him.
"Oooh, that's good! Soooh good!" she panted. "Give it to me! Flip me! Ball me! Oh, fuck me out of my head!"
He bore down and bobbed his cock swiftly, going for his prize and hoping to hell that she was with him. She was. In fact, she reached her orgasm just ahead of him, and he came while she was at the height of her tumult.
It was magnificent!
Afterward he felt a great deal better about the breakup of his marriage than he had that morning. Candy screwed better than Ginger. She cocksucked better than Ginger, too. She was a great girl, all the way around, and she seemed to be crazy about him.
She told him over and over that she loved him, and he reciprocated with the same declaration to her. Well, it was something he had to say. But he wasn't altogether sure he didn't mean it.
At least, Candy gave him something to tie to during this chaotic phase of his life. He didn't question her sincerity, her regard for him as a man or as a person. He liked her very much as a woman. As a person, though, she didn't quite measure up. Or so he had always thought.
But he was coming to appreciate her more and more. Who knew but that this appreciation might ripen into something really worthwhile, given time.
He decided that afternoon to make a final break with Ginger. He would go over to the house in the morning and pack the rest of his things. He would suggest that they make an appointment with a lawyer to draw up a property settlement. Might as well have everything neat and tidy.
CHAPTER SIX
Joe and Jean Compton were throwing a party. Its purpose was to celebrate their impending move from the ghetto into one of the better suburbs.
But they didn't really need an occasion to celebrate. They were frequent party givers, just for the fun of it, and their parties always accented one thing in particular: free and uninhibited sex.
The Comptons weren't typical ghetto residents. Their income was way above average. He worked as a research and development engineer for a large corporation, and she was music librarian at a radio station.
They were quite typical in one respect, and this was what had kept them in the ghetto until now: They were black.
They had white friends, however, and the party which they gave this evening was attended by members of both races, in about equal numbers.
At the moment, Joe Compton sprawled on a bed, with a white girl on one side of him and a black girl on the other. All were nude. Jean had just entered the room in the company of a red-haired, fair-skinned male. He still had his trousers on, and Jean wore white panties only.
"So this is where you are!" she exclaimed to her husband. "Ernie and I were hoping we could use this bed."
"If you can find room on it, you can use it," Joe said, and rumbled a deep, rich laugh.
The two women cuddled up to him more snugly, each with a hand on his bone-hard, thrusting dong. The blonde, blue-eyed white woman was Ernie's wife. He grinned as he watched her clutch Joe's big pecker.
"Come on, man," Jean told him. "Let's screw in the living room. There's more space on the floor in there."
"How about the kitchen?" Ernie suggested. "I've always wanted to do it on a table."
"Okay. On the table it is. We'll try to keep from sitting in the hors d'oeuvres." She laughed mirthfully.
They left Joe and his two women, but didn't bother to close the door. Joe and the women hadn't bothered to close it when they'd come in.
He was a tall man with close-cropped hair, very dark, and large of hand, foot and cock. He was thirty years old. The black girl who cuddled next to him was in her early twenties and voluptuously-curved. She wore a long, raven wig. Her name was Jonella Carter. Ernie's wife, Ann O'Hara, was a few years older, slim and true-blonde.
The two females were contesting for possession of Joe's outstanding sexual attribute, each hand trying to crowd the other off the cock, and he enjoyed it immensely. The reason that neither woman had won by now was that Joe's prick was fully long enough to accommodate two encircling female hands side-by-side and have most of its head left over.
Joe was egging on each of the girls by caressing them. One of his hands was wedged down between Ann and himself, turned so that he could tickle her lightly-furred pussy. The other arm was around Jonella, its hand spanning her plump, springy ass. He gave that ass a pat every now and then, because he enjoyed the way it jiggled against his hand. When he wasn't patting, he was rubbing or squeezing the satiny, black half-moons.
"God, I can't get over what a piece of meat this is!" Ann exclaimed, clutching Joe's cock. "It's so long and thick!"
This was the first time she'd gotten hold of Joe's tallywhackcr, or even seen it. But Jonella and Joe had screwed several times.
"It ain't so big," Jonella said, and chuckled. "I knew a man once who had a fugger nine inches long. I don't guess Joe's got even eight."
"Nine inches is more than you could take into that cunt of yours, girl," Joe remarked. "And mine's just eight, when it's at its stiffest."
"I don't know how it could be any stiffer than it is right now," Ann observed with a little shudder in her voice, as she awesomely regarded the thick black column with its huge mauve head. Her delicate, slender fingers looked out of place around it.
Jonella's hand was pudgier and as dark as the shaft. They seemed a better match aesthetically. Ann's white hand on the black cock looked more interesting, however. Joe found Ann more interesting overall. He wanted to screw her first.
Ann had screwed Negroes before. She had run with an avant-garde crowd in college. Ernie was a member of the same group. They had met at an inter-racial sex orgy.
So any fear or uncertainty which she felt over taking Joe's black cock into her body wasn't due to its color but to its considerable size. She wasn't sure her cunt could accommodate it without pain, and she was no masochist.
"Why don't you girls take a taste of it," Joe suggested.
"I've sucked it before, man," Jonella said. "Don't you remember?"
"Sure, baby. That was so good, I want you to do it again. But let Ann do it first. You ever tasted nigger dick before, baby?" he asked, giving her a friendly finger-poke in the pussy as he laughed.
"Sure I have," Ann purred at him. "Nigger dicks don't taste any different from white ones."
"Aaaw, shit!" Joe said. "Once that gets around, I'll lose by best sales point for gettin' white chicks to go down on me."
The girls laughed.
Ann eyed the bulging head of his dong. She sat up, and Jonella slid her hand away from it. Ann took a firm hold around the pecker's base, keeping it in an exactly-perpendicular position.
Joe had his head tilted to watch. The white teeth gleamed in his black face. Jonella arranged her cascading black hair behind her brown shoulder and regarded Ann with objective interest. The Negro girl still wasn't altogether convinced that Ann was as much of a swinger as she had made herself out to be.
But Ann turned her into a believer.
Ann's blonde hair was short, and therefore did not obstruct the other's vipw as she bent to the black man's rigid, upstanding cock. Its subtle fragrance wafted up to her. Indeed, it smelled no different from other clean cocks she had sucked.
But, oh, that head! What a monstrous thing it was! She would do well if she could get her mouth around it.
She decided just to lick it at first and to suck lightly on its tip.
She put out her tongue and began to run it over the shining, smooth knob of the pecker.
Jonella arched an eyebrow as she watched. The ofay chick had class, and she went after Joe's dong as if she really liked to lick it.
Jonella wasn't much for head jobs. She gave head sometimes, when she felt wild or if the man expected it, but she derived her pleasure from being jabbed by a stiff, long whang-like Joe's. She was afraid Ann was going to get it first tonight, however. It figured.
But Joe usually had enough stamina and self-control to screw two women to climax in immediate succession. She'd seen him do it. On one occasion, she had been second, and he'd given her a luscious come before he'd gone off.
Ann became wildly excited as she ran her moist, pink tongue over and around the ripe, succulent plum which bulged at the end of Joe's thick shaft. As soon as a drop of lubricating moisture appeared at the tip of the prick, she would gobble it up. She also ran her tongue tip around the cock, in the groove just behind its head.
Joe groaned and rattled a little in his throat as he watched her and felt the matchless thrills which she imparted. He didn't touch her head, but let her move freely of her own accord. It was usually better that way, when a chick really knew what she was about.
Finally she licked up over the crown of his dick again, and she pursed her soft, moist lips on its pinnacle. She sucked and fluttered her tongue.
Joe closed his eyes and groaned more harshly.
Ann realized she was getting to him, and this spurred her on. She began to bob her head, sliding her lips down over more and more of his cock. She coddled his large balls in her hand, jiggling and fondling them gently as she cocksucked.
"Hey, baby, that's enough!" Jonella exclaimed, and she gave Ann a little push.
Glassy-eyed and hot, Ann relinquished the tasty dick. It gleamed with the moisture of Ann's saliva as Jonella slid her mouth down over it. Though she wasn't wild about blowing guys, in this case she knew she had to. She couldn't let a white chick get the better of her with Joe. And, man, he'd been enjoying what that ofay cocksucker did!
Jonella managed to take the entire peckerhead into her mouth. It pressed against her palate, and she had difficulty moving her tongue. But she succeeded in doing it. The sucking pressure of her full lips behind the ridge of the cockhead really turned Joe on.
"Oooh, shit!" he said, and writhed, bunting upward into the black girl's mouth.
His cock kept jamming into her throat, but she didn't gag. A girl had to learn to fight down that urge, if she was going to suck cock at all, and Jonella had overcome it a long time ago.
Ann gazed at the erotic spectacle for a while, and it added to her excitement. She was at fever pitch now. She had to have something, and she couldn't wait.
She quickly rose onto her knees, extended a leg across Joe's massive chest, and squatted there. She looked down at him hopefully.
He grinned, in spite of the extreme tension the fellatio gave him.
"Come on, baby," he said, taking Ann by the hips. "Let daddy have some."
He boosted her forward-with eager help, of course-and her wet, fluffy cunt landed right on his mouth. His tongue speared upward into her juicy quim, and his teeth dug into her labia.
"Ooooh!" she cried in delight as he fluttered his tongue.
She ground her pussy against him. Her honey streamed down onto his face. He drank large quantities of it. And all the while, Jonella kept sucking and licking at his huge, upthrust dick.
It was a ball.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, his wife and Ann's husband were making out on the table. Jean had her bare, black ass on it, with her legs projecting forward, hooked around the waist of the red-haired white man, who was standing. Ernie's thin but lengthy prick was deeply embedded in her warm cunt. She leaned back on her arms, which were planted against the table, and her round titties vibrated like molds of exotic-colored Jell-O, with Bing cherries at their tops.
"Man, when are you gonna start movin' that thing?" she asked, grinning at him.
"Soon as I get enough of your tits. Shit, but they're luscious!"
He bent to them again, surrounding one with his hand and jiggling it lightly, while his mouth drew at the other nipple.
Another tit-obsessed while man, she thought, who was frustrated as a baby because his mother had fed him from a bottle. But she didn't object. She loved to have her tits sucked. Right now,, though, she would have preferred to receive some good, hard jabbing where she lived. Ernie's dong was spike-hard-a little more bony and less meaty than Joe's-and she wanted to feel that sword-like instrument thrusting in and out of her.
Just then a white girl wandered into the kitchen for ice, and she gasped, then giggled happily, when she saw what was going on.
"Give this cat a boot in the ass, will you, baby?" Jean asked. "Maybe that will start him screwing."
"I'd rather just watch," the cute brownette giggled.
So she stood there and did that, while Ernie pawed and feasted at Jean's titties, and Jean wiggled her dribbling cunt around his stiffly embedded cock.
Jean wore her hair in natural style, set off with large, circular earrings. Her features were decidedly African-flat nose and thick lips. Her black body had a marvelous sheen, and her legs, crossed above Ernie's rump, contrasted excitingly with his fair, lightly-freckled flesh.
The female observer, whose name was Dorene Temple, sat down. She was fully clothed, but the tops of her titties rose nakedly above the bodice of her low-cut gown.
Her cunt began to drool in her panties as she ogled the erotic display. She crossed her legs and twisted a little on the hard wooden chair. This wiggled her thighs against her pussy and helped turn her on.
Ernie came up for air and saw her sitting there, watching Jean and him. His pecker jerked in Jean's box.
"Come on, screw me, you stud," Jean demanded.
He grinned at Dorene and started stroking his hoi cock in Jean's cunt, really jolting her on the hard tabletop.
"Hey, where the fuck is that ice?" a male voice demanded, and a young black man appeared in the kitchen doorway. He wore a dark turtleneck and slacks, and his hair was bushed out. Love beads dangled around his neck.
"Oooo-eeee!" he exclaimed, when he got an eyeful of Ernie and Jean.
Dorene jumped to her feet. "Let's get the ice," she said, with a husky voice.
"Shit, no, baby! Let's watch those muthahs."
He moved up to Dorene, grabbed her around the waist and held her in front of him, her soft bottom against his cock and balls, while they gazed at the screwing on the table. His hands moved up to cover her tits. She made a half-hearted gesture to prevent this but, since she didn't really want to stop him, the gesture didn't succeed. Jeff Hardy's black hands wrapped themselves around her soft-firm, fleshy mounds and squeezed them. His cock rose stiffly to poke her ass.
This excited Dorene all the more, and she writhed against him. He roughly pushed the top of her dress down and took her bare titties in his hands. He shook them and rolled their projecting, red nipples while he dry-frigged her through their clothes.
Ernie and Jean continued to wet-frig on the table. Thrust-thrust-thrust. Grunt. Groan. Moan. Sigh. Slap. Thrust. Slosh-slosh, prick in pussy.
In the living room, things were turning just as wild.
Two black men had a white girl down on the couch. One was pulling up her dress while the other went for her panties. She was gasping, whimpering, and enjoying every moment of it as they gazed at her lush, white thighs above the tops of her gartered stockings ... then at her belly and finally her puff of dark pussy curls when the nude-toned panties slid away.
A Negro chick did a belly-to-belly dance with a white man in the middle of the room. He had his hands up underneath her skirt, wobbling her silk-clad buttocks. One tit had almost shaken out of her clothes.
A white boy and girl lounged in a chair, kissing and petting but mostly watching the show going on around them. This was their first time at such a bash.
A Negro girl sprawled alone in another chair. One hand was inside her blouse, fondling a titty, while the other was up between her thighs, titillating her clit Her black boyfriend returned from the bathroom, saw what she was doing, and immediately pulled her down with him onto the rug.
"Oh, look at them!" the white girl said to the white boy in the chair. "They're going to screw!"
"Look at those three!" her boy friend exclaimed, pointing to the sofa. "They're already at it."
Indeed, they were. One black man crouched between the white girl's splayed knees and struggled with his pants and shorts. He finally got them off his projecting prick and down to his knees. The cock bounded stiffly up and down.
The girl cooed as she gazed at it, and put out her hand to direct it into her pink, dribbling cunt.
The other black man stripped down his clothes, pulled up an ottoman, and sat on it. He poked his naked black dick at the girl's face. She turned her head toward it and eagerly took it into her mouth, while she accepted the other man's cock in her slit. She bumped and wiggled her hips as she bobbed her head.
"Oh, my!" the observing white girl said. "She's getting screwed two ways at once."
"How'd you like to be screwed one way, baby?" her boyfriend asked as he massaged her tits.
"Yes ... yes. Please hurry!"
The dancing pair sank to the carpet He flipped her skirt up and pulled down her red silk panties. He spread her plump thighs wide open, and her rosy cunt gleamed at him. He freed his stiff dong from his clothes and covered her body with his.
In the chair, the girl helped the boy get his pants open and his pecker out. She raised her skirt, wriggled out of her briefs, and sat on him, facing in the same direction he was.
That way, they both could watch everything else that went on in the room while she writhed around his upstanding cock and he bumped it in her cunt.
The Negro pair went at it African style, she on hands and knees, while he came at her from the rear. He stroked his long cock in and out of her pussy, and they both watched the others.
The floor fairly rocked to the rhythm of this mass copulation, and the hi-fi continued to boom, furnishing a perfect beat for the humpers to follow.
In the kitchen, white Ernie O'Hara fragged between Jean Compton's black wrap-around legs, as she lay back against the table. Her titties shook like gelatin, the big, dark nipples dancing atop them.
Jeff Hardy's black hands stripped the clothes off Darlene Temple's white, nubile form. Down came her dress and silky, nude-toned half-slip. He dropped to his knees behind her and caressed her belly as her plump ass pressed against his chest. He would reach up every once in a while and paw at her springy, full tits. They hung beautifully forward, their red nipples tilted up.
She gazed at the screwing on the edge of the table.
From Jeff's position, he was able to get an even better view. He sighted beneath Jean's thighs and watched Ernie's shaft pump in and out, round and round, enfolded by Jean's wet, wiggling cunt.
Jeff wore tight pants, and his sizable cock was giving him a fit, all pent up in there. He slid one hand away from Darlene's belly and down to his fly. He jerked the zipper open, dug into his Jockey shorts, and set his pecker free. It stuck way out and slightly upward, its juicy red head breaking through the lip of black foreskin which surrounded it.
He unhooked Darlene's garter belt and hauled it down, dragging her stockings after it. She wore a very brief, silken bikini underneath the' harness. It clung to her buoyant buttocks. The crack between them was plainly visible through the flesh-colored nylon. There was a thin border of lace along the leg elastics, which canted upward across her butt-cheeks.
Entranced by the active, passionate screwing which went on before her, Darlene lifted one leg, then the other, to rid herself of the hose and garter belt. One of Jeff's hands slid up between her full, soft thighs, and the other covered her pubic mound through her pants.
He massaged the nylon-covered fur and dug his hand higher between her warm thighs until he was able to touch the crotch of her panties. She was very hot and moist in there.
She rubbed her ass against his chest and moaned, stimulated both by visual and tactile titillations.
Jeff began to lick her bare, smooth back. As he got down to the top of her bikini briefs, he changed the position of his hands, gripped the elastic top of those cute pants and stripped them down.
Her beautiful bottom was bare in front of his face. Carried away with lust, he began to kiss it wetly and warmly.
"Oooh!" Darlene said, and shook her titties as she writhed, wiggling her ass against his loving lips and tongue.
It was inevitable that his tongue should skid into her ass groove, and inevitable also perhaps that she, in her extreme excitement, should bend forward a little, in order to make one of her most sensitive spots available to his lavish kisses.
Out of his mind with lust now, he struck at her asshole with his tongue, swabbing it up and down, then boring at it with his tongue-tip.
She shrieked her delight and pressed hard against him as his eager tongue penetrated her sphincter and entered her hot bunghole. Her satiny, plump buttocks embraced his cheeks.
One long, black finger jabbed at her pussy from the front, pressing against her clit as it sank deeply.
She came that way-the sight of the kitchen-table screwing in front of her, Jeff's bobbing finger up her quim, and his tongue embedded in her hot ass.
Perhaps not so strangely, Jeff came also, without his prick ever having touched her. It fountained into the air, its thick, white cream striking the backs of her legs and dribbling down.
Finally Jean and Ernie completed. She climaxed first, squeezing his cock with the involuntary spastic contractions of her cunt muscles. He jerked and jetted into her again and again.
Female ooo's and aah's mingled with harsh masculine groans to fill the kitchen with the sounds of sensual gratification achieved.
And while all this was going on, the threesome in the bedroom were freaking out.
Joe, Ann and Jonella had changed their positions several times on the large bed. The black girl had leaped astride his bristling loins while Ann still squatted over his face, taking his tongue in her grinding, dribbling cunt.
Jonella finished atop him, and Joe still had vigor in reserve. She dismounted, and he pushed the white girl onto his hot cock.
She went to town, writhing and bobbing her super-slick pussy on his rod. His tonguing of her had brought her nearly to the brink of orgasm, and it took less than a minute of vigorous cock-in-cunt screwing to finish her off. She popped emphatically, grabbing his tool with her contracting quim.
He almost went off, but managed to hold himself at the brink.
Now he had satisfied both women and was still hard. What to do with the big load that his balls had manufactured? Which of the girls would get it?
He decided to divide it equally between them, but he wanted to bring them both to a second finish, if possible. An impossible task for any stud to perform? Joe wasn't just any stud. He was a stud extraordinary.
He said, "Okay, you gals lie down side by side."
Ann gazed at his cock in amazement, after she had gotten off it. "You still haven't come!" she exclaimed.
"Don't worry about me," he said. "I'll get mine when the time's right. Now, you two stretch out the way I told you.
Jonella looked wise. She knew he had something fancy up his sleeve, but she wasn't sure just what. She knew Joe well enough, however, to have great respect for both his ingenuity and endurance.
Ann continued to be amazed. She, like Jonella, complied with the big black man's request.
The woman lay side by side. Joe helped them spread their legs, and he straddled one of Jonella's thighs along with one of Ann's. He gazed at their wet, well-used cunts.
He formed both his hands in fists, protruding his long middle fingers.
He turned his hands palm-upward and approached both open pussies with the extended digits.
The girls looked down and watched in fascination. But they couldn't keep from glancing at his standing prick, also, which was a huge monument to Eros as it soared out and upward from his kinky black bush. Its massive head still gleamed dully with the moisture from Ann's cunt.
He frigged both pussies with his hands-jabbing, jabbing, jabbing his middle fingers in and out, rotating them, and jabbing some more.
He watched with satisfaction as the girls' bellies began to bounce with new excitement. He kept frigging them until they were wild with want, for the second time that evening.
When he had them at exactly the right pitch of breathless passion, he issued another order:
"Jonella baby, get on top of Ann."
"Oh, I don't want that!" the white girl protested.
"You'll like what I'm gonna do. Keep your legs spread. Jonnie, get between 'em."
Jonella cooperated and, in a moment, Joe had both cunts open to him, one atop the other. The upper one was dark and bordered by kinky black curls; the lower was a delicate pink, with blonde hair around it.
"Yeaaaaah!" Joe exclaimed with a big, wide grin as he gazed at the delightful pussy-sandwich.
He boosted Jonella just a little, getting her to draw her knees farther forward. This forced Ann's legs very wide apart. It would have been painful for her to hold that pose very long, but this wouldn't be necessary. All three lovers were close to a climax right now.
Joe moved up between the girls' legs, holding his huge, black cock in his fist. He drove it into Jonella's pussy first. It was so wet and open that he encountered no resistance at all.
He jabbed, jabbed, jabbed.
Jonella ground her pelvis atop Ann's and said, "Ooooh! Maaan! Dooo it!"
He pulled out and she yelped. But he quickly sank his cock into Ann, and she ooo'd in gratitude. He pumped in her quim several times.
Jonella kept writhing atop the other girl. Suddenly the black man withdrew from Ann and pronged Jonella again. He pumped her several times and she moaned pleasurably.
Now he speeded up the tempo even more:
Back into Ann. Jab-jab-jab. "Oooooo!"
Into Jonella. Pump-pump-pump. "Ooh, bay-beee!"
Into Ann. Into Jonella. Ann-Jonella-Ann-Jonella.
If he hadn't changed quickly, moving swiftly and with perfect deftness, the technique wouldn't have worked. But he managed to keep both women at the peak of excitement. The fact that they were pressing and grinding against one another, tits to tits and mound to mound, also helped.
He pronged them, jabbed them and bopped them. They both started to come. Jonella's cunt contractions began to draw his come. Groaning, he shot once into her, switched cunts, and gushed into Ann. She creamed and squealed. He went back into Jonella, giving her more. She finished. He returned to Ann's pussy for his final jetting jabs, and rounded off her climax as he fell forward atop the two broads.
"Ooooh," Jonella sighed.
"Mmmm," said the white girl.
Joe chuckled.
He had made history tonight.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"let's face facts, Ginger. You were always good at that. We've had it. Why kid each other?"
She stared at her husband, unable to believe she was hearing correctly. She had convinced herself that he would change his mind and return to her. Instead, he was attempting to make their separation final.
"Mark, please ... this is all a stupid misunderstanding."
"No. Our marriage was a misunderstanding. It's pointless to continue the farce."
If she could only get her hands on Jackie, she was thinking. She could make that slut tell him a different story and straighten everything out.
"Let's think it over," she begged, stalling for time. "We're both too upset to make a rational decision now."
"I'm not upset any longer," he said. "I've adjusted my own thinking. You'll have to adjust yours."
Her eyes flashed, and she exploded, "Goddamn you! Do you think you can wash everything out like this? A few frigging words, and that's it, baby? You're out of your mind!"
He shut his eyes briefly and held himself under control. "I'm going to pack the rest of my things and make an appointment with an attorney. I want you to go with me, and well work out all the details. I'll be generous."
Furiously angry, she swung her hand at his face, catching him across the cheek with a stinging blow: His rage blossomed. He wanted to strike back. But he remembered the other night when he'd spanked her and how erotically excited that had made him. He didn't want to get worked up with her that way again.
No. It was better to swallow his pride for the moment and do what he had to do.
"I'm sorry you're taking it this way, Ginger. I suppose there's nothing more to be said. When you're ready to be sensible, I'll make that appointment with the lawyer."
He turned and strode toward the bedroom to do his packing.
Ginger followed him but, after she'd stood and watched him for a while as he emptied his closet and bureau drawers into suitcases, she realized how futile it was to try and change his mind now. This made her all the more angry, and she kept screaming at him.
He tuned her out.
She kept yelling obscenities as he carried his loaded bags from the house and back out to his car.
"Prick!" she yelled at him in the driveway.
He climbed into the car.
"Sonofabitch!" she shrieked.
He started the engine.
"Motherfucker!" was her final verbal salvo.
He backed the car out, turned it and headed down the street.
Her conduct today had simply reinforced his judgement that he was doing the right thing.
In the house next door, the Pattersons took all this in. Since it was a Saturday, Paul was at home.
"Oh, did you hear what she called him?" Candy asked, shocked that Ginger would be so obscene in public. But Candy was secretly pleased by the entire thing.
Paul stood beside her, behind the kitchen curtains. "The whole cockeyed neighborhood must have heard it," he said.
"Prick and motherfucker," Candy repeated. "Oh, my!"
"About the only thing she didn't call him was a cocksucker," Paul observed.
"Well, she couldn't very well call him that," Candy said sharply. "He isn't queer."
"Are you sure?" Paul grinned. "He's always seemed too damned pretty to me. Anyway, cocksucker's only a figure of speech. It doesn't mean anything literal."
"Well, I guess he and Ginger have really broken up."
"Sure sounds like it. That hangs us up for a swap."
"You talk as if you're addicted to swapping," Candy-accused.
"Well, I enjoy it. Don't you?"
"I can take it or leave it," she said. (She had something better going for her now.)
"To tell the truth, I was getting a little tired of Ginger," Paul said thoughtfully, as he chewed on a snack cracker. "I wonder what would be the chances of promoting a swap with another couple in the neighborhood."
"Paul!" Candy whirled on him. "I won't hear of it. The Hatchers were something special, and right next door. Most people aren't so broadminded. If you so much as suggest a swap to somebody else, it will ruin us in this neighborhood."
"Oh, I don't know," he said, chomping. "It depends on the people and how you approach them. Lots of people put up a false front, the way we do. Underneath they'd like to swing, if they had the chance. Or maybe they're already swinging. For instance, you take that cute brunette down the street-the one with the big tits-I'll bet she's a swinger. Her husband seems like a pretty sharp guy, too."
"Yeah? Well, keep your hands off her tits, and quit ogling her. I'm certainly not interested in her husband."
Paul regarded his young wife inquisitively. "You've kinda changed your tune, haven't you?"
"How?"
"Oh, I don't know. I always had the idea you enjoyed swapping. You tried to pretend it was a little beneath you, but you took to it quickly enough whenever we and the Hatchers got together. Hey ... it couldn't be that you have some kind of thing for Mark, could it?"
She turned away. "For goodness sake, Paul, don't be silly!"
But he continued to watch her and wonder.
She walked into the living room, her cute ass wiggling in skin-tight capris. Desire blossomed in his loins, and he thought about jumping her. But something kept him from it. Perhaps it was his desire to scare up another swap.
He opened the door and stepped out onto the driveway. He thought he might get a glimpse of the hot brunette down the street, who sometimes weeded her front lawn in a skimpy playsuit.
He strolled down his driveway and looked around.
What he saw caused him to freeze for a moment There was a moving van in front of the Munsons' house. Goddamn! Somebody was moving in. It couldn't be those frigging blacks he'd seen looking at the house the other day, could it?
He found an excuse to remain out front for a while, checking his rose bushes. He kept glancing down the street. There was a car parked next to the moving van. He didn't remember what kind of car the Negroes had been driving the other day, so he couldn't say whether this was theirs. But maybe if he watched for a few minutes, somebody would show.
It took only seconds. The door of the Munson house opened and a black youngster came running out followed by the white moving men, walking to the van for another load.
Skit!
A big black man now appeared in the doorway.
Paul turned abruptly and headed back into his house. "Candy?" The door slammed behind him. "Jesus Christ! Those blacks have taken over the Munson place. They're moving in right now."
Candy laughed.
"What's so goddamned funny?" he demanded. "You! You wanted to work out a swap with some neighbors. Well, there you are-the perfect prospects." She laughed again.
"Oh, you're cute! Real cute! I guess you know what this'll do to the frigging neighborhood."
But Candy couldn't get upset about it. She was too happy over the realization that Mark and Ginger apparently had made a final break. Now she had a clear field with him.
She might not even be living in the neighborhood much longer.
"Girl, there's only one way to break in a new house," big Joe said to his wife as soon as the moving men had left. Their two children were outdoors playing.
"If you mean what I think you mean, I'm amazed you even have a horny thought in your head, after all the screwing you did last night."
"Shoot, baby, that was last night! I didn't wanta bug you on a moving day morning, but I woke up with a raging hard-on today."
"You didn't!"
"Sure, I did," he said, as he took her in his arms and grinned down at her.
"Why, you horny stud!" She was investigating his pants front.
"Just play with it for a minute, baby, and you'll see what's gonna happen," he promised.
At first, she played with him through his pants. But she quickly got caught up in the excitement of the game, and pulled his zipper down. She lifted out his long black, cock, which had fattened and was almost ready to stand up.
She gazed at the mauve, bare head, then coddled it in her palm. She tickled it with her fingertips. Before her very eyes, and his, it enlarged and thrust forward as the shaft stiffened and poked out. In seconds, his erection was complete, and it was a beauty!
Jean had become nearly as excited as he was.
"Come on, you hound dog," she said happily. "Let's put this big pecker to work!"
She trotted ahead of him, toward the master bedroom. Her butt switched in the thin, snug pants she wore.
He closed the door as soon as they were in the bedroom, and began to pull at his clothes. She did the same. Her shirt came off and she showed him her full, high-riding titties in a snug, white bra. She pushed her slacks down to reveal snow-white briefs.
He was kicking his pants away by this time, and he quickly yanked off his shorts. His cock stood high and handsome, its huge head full of blood.
Jean pulled her panties away, stepped out of them, and fell back onto the bare mattress. She spread her legs wide, showing him her enticing cunt.
"Man, put that big cock into mc!" she demanded. "Screw me till I shout!"
Joe was happy to comply, and happy also to be giving his cute wife her first screwing in their new home. This represented the realization of a long-cherished dream for the Comptons. At last they were located in the kind of neighborhood they liked and could afford. No more shabby, dim-lit streets; sirens in the night; ill-kept apartments owned by white absentee landlords. They had their own place now, and it was first-class in every respect.
Jean deserved a first-class screwing to celebrate the event.
He didn't want to do anything fancy with her. Not today. He just wanted to slip his big prick into her warm, little cunt and move it until she fell happily out of her tree. Only then would he go off. The place would be christened by their mutual come.
He got down onto the bed between her thighs, and took ' a few moments to play with her titties-rolling them around, pushing them up and down, patting them gently and plucking at their fat, dark nipples.
But she was more than ready. Just feeling and looking at his handsome, prick had given her all the buildup she needed.
Now she grasped the husky tool and pointed it at her softly puckered opening. He pushed, and they merged, his cock sinking almost its entire length into her snug, slippery cunt.
"Baby, that feels good!" he growled.
"You feel good to me, big stud!" she exclaimed heatedly, as she raised her legs over his back. "Now, hump me. Hump me like hell!"
He humped her.
The bed rocked beneath them and bounced.
His thick, hard pecker stroked steadily in and out, in and out, in and out of her slick, warm membranes. Each time he slammed it in, it sank deep into her belly. She lifted for his strokes, able to handle all the meat he had. His big balls bounced against her asshole.
"Oh, screw me, daddy! Screw me!" she cried.
"Shit, baby, I'm givin' you all I've got!"
"And you've got a lot. Oh, what a prick! I love it!"
"Is it better than Ernie's?"
"Better than anybody's! Those other fuckers arc just a buildup for you."
"And your cunt's better than any white chick's," he growled, as he used that cunt well and thoroughly. "Man, but you move it good!"
They quit talking now and settled down to steady, hard screwing. The only sounds to be heard were the sighing of the mattress, an occasional squeak in the springs, the liquid merging of cock and pussy, and the slap of their bellies each time he socked it to her hard.
After a while, though, she began to moan harshly, and he started to grunt. He moved harder and faster. She was right with him, grinding and pushing back against his thrusts.
She let out a string of gasps. He growled savagely and really bore down. They raced. She squealed. Her cunt milked at his plunging pecker. He dug it deep and let loose his spurts, emptying his balls in the pit of her pussy.
Gradually her legs slid down off his back, and she sighed in bliss.
He chuckled, twisted his head, and kissed her on the mouth.
"Baby, we're home," he said.
"Man, would you believe it!" she replied.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mark spent most of Saturday locating a suitable furnished apartment and getting settled.
But when the evening arrived, he didn't know what to do with himself. He couldn't call Candy. She was at home with Paul. He tried to reach Shirley, but she didn't answer her phone. She was out screwing around with another man, no doubt.
Shit.
Perhaps he could pick up someone, but he didn't feel like doing that. Candy was the girl he really wanted tonight. He feared that perhaps he wanted her too strongly. That was bad, because there was no future for them.
He settled down with his portable TV. There was the Gleason show, then an old movie. He could hardly keep his mind on what he was watching. He kept imagining Candy at home with Paul. For the first time, he really hated that sonofabitch.
He took consolation from the belief that Candy was as unhappy tonight as he was. It was true.
Paul was horny. He'd had a few drinks, and he wanted to bed her before their usual bedtime. In the past, she might have welcomed his advances, because she was a responsive girl. But that was before Mark had taught her how much more exciting physical love could be with a lover who knew all the techniques and wasn't too inhibited to use them. He had helped her abandon her inhibitions, also. (God, what would Paul think if she were to go down on him, as she'd done with Mark?)
She tried to fight off Paul's advances when he went after her on the sofa. But he laughed and insisted, pinning her in the corner of the couch. His mouth caught hers, and he wormed his tongue into her mouth while his hand roamed her front, from crotch to titties.
She still wore the snug capris, along with a sleeveless blouse that buttoned down the back and drew taut across the quivering, high tips of her titties. Her husband's hand mauled those beautiful boobs, then dug down into the hot canyon between her thighs, where the fabrics of her pants and panties clung to the soft lips of her pussy.
Tn spite of herself, she became aroused, and she couldn't continue the resistance. Paul pulled her forward and kissed her crushingly, with his tongue in her mouth. At the same time, his thick hand fumbled open the buttons at her back. When he released her to let her lie back against the couch, he drew her blouse forward and down off her shoulders. It slid along her arms, and he tossed it away.
Candy's white bra was exposed, and it was excitingly packed with a pair of firm, full titties which never failed to arouse the he-man (or was it the baby?) in Paul. Candy liked to have her tits sucked. But not as much as Paul seemed to want to do it. She wished he would apply some of that sucking, tonguing impulse where it would do her more good.
However, she let him take her bra off, liberating those luscious tits. They stood high and haughty, their pink stems extended toward his eager lips.
With a growl, he bent to them, clamping his wet mouth around one gorgeous nipple while his hand worked the other spongy-firm boob. He sucked the titty and titillated it with his tongue tip. One hand continued to knead the other breast, and his other hand slid up and down, up and down, in her crotch.
Candy's legs spread farther. She found herself pushing forward against the caress. She felt moisture dribbling in her twat. Her clit was up, giving her the female version of a hard-on.
Her hand dropped into Paul's lap and discovered his prick pushing for freedom against the interior of his shorts and slacks.
Why not let it out? This seemed like the wifely thing to do.
She unzipped his fly, wormed her hand into his shorts, gripped the husky pecker, and brought it out into the open air. She slid its foreskin back. It locked into rigid erection, the head swollen large.
Candy wished it were Mark's prick she was fondling. But she was hot enough now to appreciate the prick that was closest, and Paul was her husband, after all.
He switched titties. He clamped onto the hitherto dry nipple and pulled it deeply into his warm, wet mouth. He laved it with his circling tongue as he sucked.
What a jug! Even though he could get nothing out of it, he became as light-headed as if he were sucking booze.
He rolled her other titty with his hand, delighting in its pliant fullness as it jutted forward on her chest. He pressed his mouth harder against the one he was kissing, and he got the same pleasurable sensation of taut resiliency. His tongue bent her rubbery nipple back and forth in his mouth. He twirled it.
Candy was stroking his foreskin up and down against the sensitive ridge of his cockhead. Her cunt was growing hotter and hotter. Wetter, as well.
She wished he would pull her pants off, and her panties. She wanted him to get down onto his knees between her spread thighs and have a feast at her split. Oh, what his tongue could do for her down there right now, if he would only use it!
But, no. Not Paul. He was strictly a suck-titty, screw-pussy man. What a refreshing change it would be if he were to screw her tits after he'd sucked her cunt.
Finally he did relinquish her knockers, letting them spring free and bob a few times on her chest, and his hands slid down to catch the top of her stretch pants. He pulled them down, along with the bikini briefs she wore underneath. She raised her rump off the couch.
Paul pulled the two garments along her legs. She raised her legs and bicycled them to permit him to remove the pants and panties from her feet. He eyed her blonde fluff and the juicy, pink slit which extended below the main puff of hair.
He shoved her creamy thighs wide apart.
Now! she thought. Goddamn you, get down and eat it!
But, of course, he didn't.
He got up and fumbled his clothes away. His hard cock bobbed and swung.
"Lie down on the couch," he whispered huskily.
She turned and stretched out, letting one leg fall to the floor while she hooked the other over the back of the sofa. He gazed with lust at her split, moist pussy. He could hardly wait to drive his bone-hard pecker into it.
He got on top of her, and his rod came crashing in, sinking deep (but not as deeply as Mark's, when he finally got around to screwing). Paul began to pull and thrust, withdrawing nearly all the way, slamming in again, out and in, up and down-screw, screw, screw!
She screwed back at him, though her mind was full of resentment.
She closed her eyes, arched herself, and ground her sopping cunt against his prick thrusts. Her titties shook, and he turned his head to capture a quivering nipple in his mouth. He sucked on it as he humped her.
Her heart wasn't in the act, however. She rose toward orgasm more slowly than usual. Paul, on the other hand, was faster tonight. He moved more rapidly, switching to short strokes. He was going for the finish, and she knew she wouldn't make it with him.
He ejaculated into her cunt, and she wailed in disappointment.
This hurt Paul, even as the waves of orgasm shook his body. And it surprised him. He couldn't remember ever before having failed to satisfy Candy.
"What was the matter?" he asked, breathing hard at the conclusion of his exertions.
"I don't know," she moaned.
But, of course, she did. She had wanted Mark and the way he made love. Paul just didn't satisfy her any more.
He removed his wet, soft pecker from her quim, and pushed himself to his feet. Candy whined and writhed against the sofa. He gazed down at her.
"Did Mark always make you come?" he asked.
"Don't talk about him!" Her eyes were shut, and she faced the back of the couch.
"Maybe we ought to. Maybe you've got a thing for him, huh?"
"That's silly!"
Her legs remained open. Her cunt was rosy and moist, its little lips still parted. The blonde hairs along the meaty folds were matted down with juice.
He could use his finger, he supposed, and give her a come. But why should he? It was her fault, not his, that she hadn't gotten there.
He began to gather up his clothes.
Candy fled to the bathroom. She squatted on the John and diddled herself with her hand.
It was a hell of a way to finish off a Saturday night.
Perhaps she and Mark could get together tomorrow. If Paul played golf, as usual on Sunday, she would contact Mark at the motel where she assumed he was still staying.
Sunday was a bright and beautiful day.
Ginger had been low the night before, but the morning sunshine perked her up. She couldn't go on feeling sorry for herself. If everything really was over, between Mark and her, she still had a life to lead.
She bathed leisurely, took a light breakfast, and went out to water the plants at the front of her house. Perhaps she would be giving up the place soon, but for the moment this little chore gave her a sense of stability, and that was what she needed.
She glanced down the street and, for the first time, became aware that she had new neighbors. A black family had indeed moved into-the old Munson place. The wife was out front, looking over the lawn.
Impulsively, Ginger put down her hose and headed down the street.
"Hi!" she called cheerily to the brown-skinned woman in white shorts and matching top. Jean turned and smiled. "Hello."
"I'm Virginia Hatcher. Everybody calls me Ginger. I live a couple of doors down. I'd like to welcome you to the neighborhood."
"That's very nice. Thank you. I'm sure we're going to be happy here. I'm Jean Compton, and my husband's name is Joe.
Something stirred within Ginger as she took in the exotic beauty of this voluptuous, young Negro woman. She had lush, thrusting tits, and her shorts clung closely to the cute mound at the base of her belly. Her waist was slim and her thighs lusciously full.
Ginger didn't make her inspection of the other woman's charms obvious. The black girl was a neighbor, and therefore off-limits. But if she had lived anywhere else, Ginger would have gone after her quickly.
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Jean inquired with a smile.
"Sounds great. I'm just about due for my second cup of the morning."
"Come on in. The percolator's still fired up."
Ginger followed Jean into the house.
"Is your husband at home?" Ginger asked.
"Not at the moment. He had to run an errand. Hell be back soon, though. He took the kids with him. We have two of them."
"My husband isn't home, either," Ginger said, as they entered the cheerful kitchen. "He's ... away for a few days. We don't have any children."
"What a shame. Kids are the greatest. Do you take cream and sugar?"
"A little cream only, please."
"You'll have to excuse the place. We're not really settled yet.
"I know how it is," Ginger said.
Actually, the house was in pretty good order. There were a few boxes here and there, waiting to be unpacked, but everything seemed neat and clean.
The two women sat down at the table with their coffee and quickly got acquainted. Ginger liked the other girl. She seemed very natural and friendly.
However, there was something going on behind the black girl's eyes which would have surprised Ginger if she'd been aware of it. Working as she did, in the world of show business, and leading an unconventional social life, Jean knew all kinds of people, and she was particularly adept at spotting those with unusual sex interests.
She had been watching Ginger's eyes, and they'd told her a lot: The woman was queer.
Oh, the beautiful redhead hadn't been trying to seduce her. On the contrary, she'd been attempting to keep her special interest in Jean's opulent charms a secret. But her eyes had flickered to the cleft of her titties, which showed at the low-cut neckline of Jean's blouse. And at least twice, she'd looked directly at Jean's crotch.
Jean thought, What luck to come across a type like this, living right down the street! She's married, so that means she's a switch-hitter. Joe and I can have a fine time with HER!
Jean could never have lived as she did without following the rule of grab while the grabbing's good. Joe was the same way. Whenever possible, they endeavored to share their catches with each other.
With luck, Joe would be home in just a few minutes, and this cute redhead was a hot catch to share.
After Ginger and Jean got up from the table, the latter made it a point to brush-hips with her new friend. Ginger's eyes flashed as she looked at Jean. (Actually, the flash traveled all the way through her.)
"Oh. Sorry," Jean purred. She lowered her lids a little.
"It was all right," Ginger said, watching the other woman intently.
Jean moved close again. She placed a hand against Ginger's back and slid it down over the seat of her skirt, caressing her ass deftly. "You're nice and firm," Jean said.
Ginger's nerves were running riot.
Never in the world had she expected anything like this, right in her own neighborhood. Jean's touch, and the way she was looking at her, had really turned her on.
Since Jean had initiated the thing, it was all right to pursue it, Ginger decided. Oh, but Jean's husband was due to come home at any moment!
"I'm interested," Ginger said flat-out. "But your husband's coming right back, isn't he?"
"Don't let that worry you," Jean replied in a velvety tone, as her skilled fingers moved over Ginger's tits. "Well hear him drive up."
"Oh, God, it's so risky!"
"So, what's life without a few risks? Anyway, I'm horny as hell this morning. How about you?"
"Yesss," Ginger admitted. "Then let's make it, girl!"
"Where?" Ginger asked huskily. "The bedroom. Come on."
With excitement pounding through every cell and fiber of her body, Ginger followed the exotic black girl. The moment they arrived in the bedroom, Jean took charge.
She didn't even bother to shut the door before pulling Ginger into her arms and pressing her thick, sweet lips against Ginger's parted ones. Jean's tongue entered Ginger's mouth. The colored girl's hands toured Ginger's back, finally sliding down around the cheeks of her bottom. She kneaded the pliant hemispheres through Ginger's skirt and pants.
Jean's next move was to pull up the other woman's dress. She did this deftly and wrapped her hands around Ginger's buttocks, with only the whisper-thin, silken panties in between. Jean gazed into the mirror behind Ginger and watched her dark hands work those lush, panty-clad globes.
Moisture began to seep in Jean's quick-responding quim.
Ginger was every bit as hot. Her head spun lightly.
She stood there on weak legs and let Jean rub her ass all over, rolling and jiggling the responsive buttocks. Finally the black girl pulled the elastic of her pale-pink panties away from her back and slid both hands down inside the pants, to cup Ginger's ass-cheeks directly.
She held and squeezed Ginger's bottom, pulling her belly snugly against her own. Ginger's tits dug into Jean's, through their clothes.
"Oh, God!" Ginger exclaimed, panting. "Let's get on the fuckin' bed!"
"But not to fuck," Jean stipulated. "It's a sixty-nine or nothing, baby."
"Oh, yes! Sixty-nine!"
Jean pulled Ginger's pants down, carrying them far enough to let gravity complete the job. She quickly unfastened Ginger's dress and pulled it up. She unhooked Ginger's bra and whipped it away so briskly that the white woman's tits jiggled up and down.
"Oh, you're nice!" Jean exclaimed. "I wanta eat you!"
Ginger turned to the bed and rolled onto it happily. She'd forgotten the open door and the fact that Jean's husband was coming right home.
Jean quickly stripped. Ginger watched through impassioned eyes as Jean's bulging, round titties bounced out of her bra. Jean swept her white briefs down, revealing a cute belly and outer black-fuzzed mound.
"I want it ... I want it!" Ginger cried. She'd never made the scene with a black girl before. This was going to be an exceptional treat!
Jean went to her, and the two women rolled back and forth on the bed, tightly clasped in each other's arms. Titties crushed titties. Cunt burned and writhed against cunt. Their hands clasped each other's ass.
They kissed hungrily, stroking tongues.
Ginger was grooving. Jean's mouth tasted marvelously sweet. Her tits were like well-inflated air pillows of exquisite shape. Ginger's nipples were as hard as they had ever been. If the other girl's tits had really been inflated with air, Ginger's rigid spikes would have pricked them.
Jean began to kiss downward along Ginger's body, and the redhead rolled onto her back, flinging her arms and legs wide open. She gasped and moaned with delight as the black girl's thick lips tugged at her nipples, lashing them with an anxious tongue.
That tongue skidded all over Ginger's middle-in and out of her belly button and down ... down ... down into her girl fur. Jean gripped her legs and parted them even farther. She dived into Ginger's teasingly-scented crotch and turned her head slightly to mash her eager mouth against the dewy cunt lips. Jean's tongue searched the tender folds of flesh.
Ginger whined with delight and dug her hands into the other woman's bushy hair.
Jean's tongue found the honey hole and shoved into it.
"Oooo!" Ginger squealed.
Jean's tongue fluttered in and out ... in and out. Oh, God, if she didn't stop that and twist around right now, Ginger was going to blast off alone!
Ginger gripped the other woman's head and lifted her away from the blissfully-throbbing cunt. "I want you, too!" Ginger panted. "You got me, baby!"
Jean quickly reversed her position, tossing a leg over Ginger's form. She backed up. Ginger gazed at the approaching black ass, split widely. She got a teasing whiff of asshole, then Jean's fuzzy cunt was right above her mouth and nose, and its musky tang canceled out the other.
Jean dropped her dark bun to Ginger's open mouth. Ginger's lips clamped hungrily onto the juicy, soft quim and began to suck. Her tongue fluttered up, snaking into Jean's cunt-hole, out, and in again. As Jean settled more firmly onto Ginger's mouth, the latter's tongue remained up in Jean's channel all the time, fluttering but never leaving the warm confines of the pussy. Ginger kept sucking, also. Her face was bathed in cunt juice. She breathed the exotic aromas of the female crotch.
The black girl gave as good as she received. Perhaps better. Since she was on top, she could move more freely. She licked Ginger's flaming cunt all over-in and out, up and down, this side, that side, in the tuft above and through the sparse hairs along each edge.
Jean's tongue was a deftly applied tool of intense titillation as it flickered and slid against the tingling, moist flesh. Finally it dug deeper into the folds of fevered flesh, working the meaty membranes this way and that. It found the clitty and gave that pure hell.
Ginger was so stimulated that she bit Jean's cunt as she went at it with gusto. She swallowed great quantities of Jean's slippery syrup. Her tongue was like a leaping flame. Jean circled and bobbed above Ginger's marvelous mouth, and she went at Ginger's clit all the stronger, pushing it with her tongue tip, twirling it, clamping it between her lips and nibbling as she sucked on it gently.
"Hello, ladies!"
At the sound of the deep-pitched masculine greeting, Jean looked up and Ginger grasped Jean's hips to shove them aside so she could see who had spoken.
Of course, she knew before she saw. She remembered that Jean's husband, was expected home. Now he had arrived.
She gazed at him in sudden shock. He was huge and muscular, and blacker than Jean. He wore blue pants and a white T-shirt, which clung to his husky chest and shoulders.
He was grinning down at them.
"Hello, baby," Jean said matter-of-facrly. "This is Ginger Hatcher, one of our neighbors."
"Glad to know you, Ginger," Joe said, and he jerked his belt open.
She was utterly stunned. Her passion, which had reached a quivering high peak, was frozen there. She was trapped beneath Jean-her legs open, her back against the bed-and she was unable to move any portion of her anatomy, except her head. Jean was, at least, holding her crotch away from Ginger's face.
Joe dropped his pants, revealing a huge bulge in his Jockey briefs.
Ginger finally recovered the ability to speak and move.
"No!" she cried, and began to struggle against Jean.
But the struggling proved futile. Jean bore down on her and bent her fuzzy head into Ginger's crotch. "Easy, baby ... easy," she said, and she resumed licking at Ginger's cunt.
Joe's shirt was off. He watched his wife go at the white woman as he yanked down his shorts. His big dick sprang up. It looked fearsome as a billy club.
Ginger gazed at it, wide-eyed. She stopped struggling. Jean's tongue on her cunt was bringing her passion up again. Also, the black man's cock exerted a strange fascination.
"All right, girl," Joe told his wife gently. "Let me have a crack at the neighbor lady." But he smiled warmly at Ginger as he said it.
Jean dismounted carefully but she continued to hold Ginger in place. She glanced at the door to confirm that Joe had set the bolt lock which they'd installed. It wouldn't be good to have the children strolling in.
Joe approached Ginger with his massive prick standing out and up. God, what a head on that monster! she thought. And the shaft's as thick as my wrist!
Fear overcame her momentary fascination, and again she screamed, "No!"
Jean bent toward her and murmured, "Baby, it's gonna be fun." She kissed her cheek and petted her.
Joe gently parted Ginger's legs again and knelt between them.
CHAPTER NINE
Big Joe didn't stick his cock into Ginger right away.
He covered her slender white body with his husky black form, but kept his hips up a little. He placed his large hands against the sides of her face.
It terrified her to look up into that Negroid face. She'd always considered herself completely unprejudiced, and she had seemed to prove it with Jean. But to be in bed with a black man was different.
However, she didn't fight now. It seemed futile. Also, fascination vied with her fear again.
As the moments passed, the fascination grew and the fear receded. Joe was very gentle with her. His hands stroked her cheeks. He kissed her gently on the lips. He backed up a little, and his hands stroked down onto her chest. He rubbed her firm, small titties, causing the pointed hills to quiver. He twiddled her nipples deftly, and they swelled harder and higher. He turned his head and brought his warm, wet mouth down around one of the sensitive peaks.
He sucked her tit, and she gazed up into Jean's benevolently smiling face.
Jean's hand displaced Joe's at Ginger's other breast. She fondled the titty delicately while Joe tongued and sucked lightly at the other.
This was good! Ginger finally decided.
She began to give herself to the act as freely as the others did.
When Joe backed up farther and kissed downward along her body, Jean bent and kissed her lips. Jean's hands toyed with her titties. Joe kissed her belly button, flicking his tongue into it. He browsed lower.
Ginger's entire body ignited in passionate flames. She writhed and moaned. As Joe's mouth moved into her pussy fur, she bucked upward, causing his thick lips to skid down onto the soft, juicy lips of her cunt. He spread her cunt lips deftly with his mouth and inserted his tongue into her slit.
She shut her eyes tightly. Wild sounds escaped from her parted lips as she ground her cunt around Joe's delightful tongue-frigging.
It might have been Jean making luscious mouth-love to her between the legs, except that Jean was leaning over her chest, tonguing her mouth and rubbing her titties delightfully. Ginger's fire grew hotter and hotter. She moved more passionately. She sobbed.
Later, in thinking it over, she wasn't able to determine just what it was that had set her off so strongly-whether it was because Joe was a Negro, because he and Jean were working on her together, or because he took more time than most men with the oral and manual techniques. Perhaps it was the very bizarreness of the act.
Anyway, she did respond strongly, and that was what mattered.
As she approached a come, Joe detected her condition. At exactly the right moment, he raised his head and moved forward, atop her. Jean sidled closer to the head of the bed, but she kept kissing Ginger's lips and kept a hand on one breast.
Joe gripped his thick, black dong and pointed it at Ginger's dribbling slit. The puckered pinkness claimed the tip of his dark, swollen cockhead. He pushed, and the entire knob popped into Ginger's cunt.
She gasped.
Jean raised her face and smiled down. "Screw her nice, Joe," she said. "Make her love it."
"She's gonna love it just as much as I do," his deep voice rumbled.
Ginger's eyes and mouth were open wide as he sank his thick, rigid pecker inch-by-inch into her slippery hole.
Finally she was stuffed with him. He had possession of her to his hilt. His big balls rested against her asshole.
She felt him throbbing in there. Every once in a while, he would jerk a little. He hadn't started to stroke yet.
He was leaning on his elbows, holding her buttocks in his hands. His head was drawn a little to the side, allowing Jean to continue the game. She bent and kissed one side of Cinger's mouth. She fondled one of Ginger's springy tits while Joe's warm mouth covered the other.
He began to stroke, slowly and carefully. His huge cock slid out and in, gradually lengthening the strokes until his knob nearly escaped from her pussy on the backstrokes. Momentarily Ginger suffered a relapse. She didn't respond erotically to the stroking, any more than she responded with other men, except that she was more stuffed with Joe.
What a big, pricky animal he was!
Jean kept kissing her, tonguing the corner of her mouth. Now Jean's hand moved back and forth across both her titties, stimulating the sensitive tips of them until they felt as if they would explode.
And Joe kept stroking, stroking, stroking his mighty tool in her twat. His strong hands kneaded and rolled her buttocks, lifting her to his thrusts. His cock sank into her very deeply. She felt as if she were being split in two.
Gradually she resumed her rise toward a climax. She didn't know whether Joe's humping was mainly responsible or whether it was the way Jean kissed her and stroked her breasts. The important fact was that she was getting there. She was making it with a man ... and with a woman ... both at the same time ... both black.
Her preliminary spasms tipped Joe off, and he stroked harder, faster, really pumping her pussy for all he was worth. She lifted to his lunges and circled her slippery snatch around them.
Jean fluttered her tongue in Ginger's mouth, and the white woman responded with some tongue action of her own. Jean's fingers delighted a tingling nipple, tugging it upward, bending it, twirling it, and scratching it lightly with her fingernails.
"Oooooh! Oooh! Oh! God! OOH!"
Ginger came, bucking and spasming wildly. Joe jerked and spewed his thick, warm cream into her depths. Jean squeezed the other woman's titty. Ginger kept coming and coming. She wailed.
When the tumult on the bed finally quieted down, the three participants were aware of a small voice on the other side of the door asking, "Mommy, what's the matter?"
Jean cleared her throat and called, "Nothing, dear. Everything's all right. Now, you go out and play."
Ginger sat cross-legged, at the side of the bed, and watched while Joe satisfied his wife by mouth.
As he tongued Jean's dark, creamy cunt, he would lift his head slightly every once in a while and gaze at Ginger's open pussy. Then he would return to his wife's cunt with added gusto.
Ginger kept glancing at Joe's cock, which was aimed her way as he lay on one hip. Actually it wasn't aimed at all, at first. It just fell across his thigh, limp and a little gucky from their mutual juicy come. But after he had tongued Jean's pussy for a while and glanced several times at Ginger's crotch, that big rope-like pecker began to assume the characteristics of iron. Then it did point at Ginger.
She gazed at it, fascinated. It was so huge and so frigging dark! She remembered how effectively he had used it in her.
Jean got her gun off while Joe tongued her twat.
He raised his head. Now he was the one with the problem, while both women still glowed with satisfaction.
They glanced at each other, and he grinned at them both.
"Well, ladies?" he chuckled, and gripped his big prick, shaking it gently.
"Jack off, Joe," his wife suggested playfully. "Let us watch."
"Shhhhit!" he said, and chuckled again. "Wanta go again?" he asked Ginger. "Just you and me this time?"
"I don't know if I...." she began. "That is, I've never been quite as good with men."
"You were good last time. Now you're very open. It'll be slick as greased glass."
"Try, baby," Jean urged her. "I'll watch."
"Well...."
Ginger liked the idea of the other woman watching. And she was interested in finding out if she really could pop with this big black man alone.
"All right," she said finally.
Jean moved over, so that Ginger could spread herself in the center of the mattress.
Joe crouched between her up-tilted thighs. His cock stuck up stiffly. How virile he was! She'd heard that was true of blacks, but she'd never had an opportunity to test out the proposition before.
He dropped forward onto one arm. His body covered hers. He tilted his heavy cock down to her little pink chasm, which wasn't quite as little as it was before the three-part play began.
He slid his cock easily into her lubricated quim, sinking it all the way. He pushed himself up on both hands, his arms straight. He gazed down at her as he began to grind his cock in her cunt and stroke it out and in.
She gazed up at him. She started to move with him.
Jean watched interestedly.
It was good screwing, and good to watch. Joe's black rump rose and fell between Ginger's white thighs. His huge, dark hands pawed at her fair, reddish-tipped tits.
Jean moved around, after a while, so she could gaze between the legs of the lovers and observe her husband's thick shaft pump in and out between the grabby, slick, red lips of Ginger's pussy. Down and up the big piston went. In and out. Plunge-withdraw-plunge-grind-withdraw-plunge-withdraw-plunge-grind some more. Joe's balls wobbled as he ground his cock deeply in Ginger's cunt.
Jean stroked her own clitty while she watched them. She soon built herself up toward another come.
Ginger was rising toward her second orgasm of the day. But rising slowly. Now she was just with a man. A big man. A black man. But essentially just a man.
She had an impulse to behave as she did with Mark, Paul and the other men she'd balled: Pretend, move as if she was reaching her reward, and let it go at that. But somehow that didn't seem appropriate today with Joe. Anyway, she entertained a ray of hope that she might actually make it, even though Jean wasn't helping ... provided Joe lasted long enough. When she was with a man, she had to have one hell of a long, hard cunt-stabbing before she could make it.
Joe worked like an iron man. His prick pumped and pumped. Jean had her head against the mattress, watching as she diddled herself.
Joe squeezed both of Ginger's titties, thumbing her nipples. She liked that. His cock was giving her more action than Mark usually did, and she could feel every stroke intensely because of the organ's thickness. What a hunk of meat!
She became more and more excited. She gasped, panted, and her hips moved of their own accord.
"Oooh, yesss! Yes! Yes!" she heard herself say.
"Pump it, baby!" Joe growled, squeezing her titties harder as he screwed. "Move that little cunt! Go Go Blow your friggin' mind!"
She whined and whimpered. She pushed against him harder. Her brain began to float. She felt a tightness growing within her.
God! Oh, Jesus, she was getting there! If he would only keep on ...!
He screwed her to beat hell. He gave her everything he had-drilling, grinding, pumping his heavy prick in her cunt.
"Oooooh!" she wailed. "Christ! Shit! SHIT! I'M COMINNNNG!"
She came like a freight train that had lost its brakes on a long downgrade. She roared into the orgasm, shaking and bumping. She bellowed. She kept shaking as Joe cursed and shot his hot semen into her.
Jean was coming, also-more quietly perhaps, but in a satisfactory way.
"Mommy?" a young voice outside the door called again.
"Yes, dear?" Jean asked a bit huskily.
"Do you hurt?" (He had thought Ginger's hollering was his mother's.)
"I'm all right, Todd. Go play."
"Yes, Mommy."
Little footsteps receded down the hall.
"Ooooh ... ooh ... ooh...." Ginger was panting.
Joe, braced on straight arms again, grinned down at her. He was breathing a bit heavily, but otherwise seemed perfectly at ease.
"So you don't make it so good with guys, hmm?" he asked.
"I thought I didn't," she said between gasps. "You're wonderful!"
He chuckled again and leaned down to kiss her.
"You mean, he moved out?" Candy asked desperately into the phone.
"That's right, ma'am," the man at the motel replied. "Did he leave a forwarding address?"
"No, ma'am."
"Shit!" she exclaimed.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am?" asked the motel clerk. "Oh, nothing!" She slammed up the receiver. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" she said to the empty room. She got up and began to pace the floor. Her buttocks wiggled rapidly in her snug pants.
Was Mark trying to lose her? She could hardly believe that. But why had he moved out of the motel? God, was he going back to Ginger?
No. Of course not. Not after the way she'd yelled at him; the names she'd called him.
He must have moved into an apartment. Damn him! What was he up to?
She strode to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee, thinking that might calm her nerves. Of course, it didn't. She was just finishing it, wondering what she was going to do next, when the telephone rang.
She nearly upset the cup as she rushed to the kitchen wall extension.
"Hello?"
Mark chuckled. "I was prepared to hang up if Paul answered."
"Oh, God! Mark! Where are you?"
"I rented an apartment. Got a paper and pencil? I'll give you the address."
"I'll remember it, don't worry." He gave it to her.
"I'm coming right over," she announced. "Where's Paul?"
"Out playing golf."
"But he may get home before you get back."
"I don't care," she said firmly. "He doesn't matter to me any more. Only you do."
"Now wait a minute," Mark said gently. "I love you, too, baby, but we don't want to do anything foolish."
"Don't talk now. Just stay there. I'll be right over." She threw a quick kiss into the telephone and hung up.
She took a speedy bath and dressed rapidly, donning only a pair of nylon pants under her shift. She quickly arranged her hair and raced from the apartment.
She must have broken several speed limits as she drove into town. She found Mark's apartment house easily; it was on a well-known street.
She parked too close to a fireplug but didn't care if she got a ticket.
People glanced at her in the sun-bathed patio of the apartment house, as she rounded the pool rapidly and climbed the stairs to the door with the numerals 21 on it. That was Mark's apartment.
She rapped.
He opened the door right away. He was holding a drink in his hand.
He grinned. "Hi, baby." He added, indicating his glass, "What would you like?"
"You!" she said, and began pulling down the zipper on her dress before he'd closed the door.
The dress dropped off, and he gazed at her in nothing but thin pink pants. Her gorgeous titties stuck out, their nipples stiff and canting upward.
"Baby!" he growled, and pulled her into his arms.
He'd spent a dry night, and was about as horny as she was today.
Both his hands gripped her lush bottom, pulling her against him as their mouths merged. Their lips spread widely apart and their tongues communed.
Candy whimpered. Her tits itched against his coarse shirt.
She pulled her mouth free. "Come on ... strip!" she demanded.
"Hey, wait a minute. Let's have that drink, okay?"
"Fuck the drink! I want you!"
He watched her bend to peel her panties away. Her tits swayed like bells tolling.
His cock was hard in his pants. He opened and dropped the trousers, letting his pecker stretch his Jockey briefs farther forward. He kicked his loafers and pant legs off, his tally whacker bobbing up and down in the white knit.
Candy straightened up and tossed her panties onto a chair. She gazed at Mark, with his cock standing out in those clingy shorts. Her intense hunger overcame her and, as Mark pulled his turtle-neck shirt up and over his head, she dropped to her knees on the carpet in front of him.
She clawed his shorts down to his thighs, and his stiff cock sprang out to point directly at her face.
Mark tossed his shirt aside just in time to see her blonde head drop. Her open mouth caught his cockhead, enclosing it completely. Her tongue worked over it wetly as she sucked. She bobbed her head.
Mark clenched his fists and hung on. He tilted back his head and jammed his eyes shut.
Jesus, can this bitch suck cock! And he had taught her. He took some satisfaction in that.
But more significant was the fact that he looked down on her, figuratively as well as literally, for approaching him this way-so hungrily, without any pride.
Love her? Did he really? He loved to have her suck his cock, but....
She twisted her head this way and that, taking more and more of his dingus into her mouth and throat. She tongued him wildly, titillating the tip of his prick as he had taught her to do. Now she licked it underneath, in an equally sensitive place. She bobbed her head some more.
He was grooving good. Too good to hold out for long. He wanted to screw her now.
He got a grip on her wildly active head and lifted it off his quivering dong.
"Come on, baby," .he said. "Lie down."
She flopped onto her back on the rug and spread her lovely legs. He gazed at the pink gash which divided her curly blonde fluff. It was dribbling with honey.
But he didn't want to eat that honey today. He just wanted to screw her.
He yanked off his briefs and got down onto his knees on the floor. He moved up.
"Noooh!" she cried, and pushed at him frantically.
"What's the matter?" He blinked down at her.
"Do the other."
"I don't feel like it today."
"But I do!"
"Well see ... maybe later," he said, and sought to sink his cock in her pussy.
She put her hand down and covered her pink slit.
"Hey ... wait a minute." He was trying to remain sweet, but he was a little angry.
"The other first!" she demanded. "I want your tongue."
What the hell did she think he was-a blasted cunt-lapper? He was a man. He would eat cunt, of course, and he would do everything else when he felt like it. But right now he felt like sinking his stiff dick into her, and that was what he was going to do.
He grasped her hand, pulled it away from her pussy, and, as she shrieked in protest, drove forward and down with his cock, shoving it in between the slick, pink lips of her cunt.
"Goddamn you!" she cried.
"What the hell's the matter?" he demanded, as he ground his prick deep and hard into her pussy. "Have you gotten so you can't make it without being frenched?"
"I frenched you."
"I didn't ask you to. Relax. Swing with it. I'll give you a good screwing."
"I don't want to be screwed!" she said. "I can get screwed at home."
He gazed down at her beautiful face, which was twisted out of shape now. He saw naked selfishness in it. For the first time, he recognized her for the spoiled bitch she was.
He pulled his cock out of her pussy with a wet, sucking sound. She stared at him in amazement as he got to his feet, his prick bobbing. It stood high, its rosy head swollen and wet with her lubricant.
"You wouldn't stop like that," she said.
"Why not? What goes up will come down."
"But you'll stay hung up inside."
"What do you know about how I am inside? What do you care?"
She closed her legs and sat up. "Mark, please let's not fight."
"I didn't want to fight. I wanted to screw." She gazed at him for a moment and watched his pecker begin to drop.
Her expression turned hard, and she fell onto her back, spreading her legs again.
"All right!" she exclaimed resentfully. "Stick your prick into my cunt, if that's the only thing that interests you."
He looked at the pretty pussy, which was split before him. His prick stopped falling and began to inch up and out again.
He dropped to his knees between her thighs, gripped his prick and worked it a couple of times by hand to achieve complete stiffness, while he looked at the little pink cunt-mouth into which he would poke it.
Then he dropped forward and ran the slick prick deeply into Candy's snatch. He rotated and stroked, working her alternately with short strokes and long, moving all the time, gradually increasing the tempo.
It was a good steady technique, calculated to keep all her nerve ends under constant stimulation. He pumped into her from one slant, then another; he stroked straight in and out; he wiggled his pecker deep.
Candy didn't move at all. She glared up at him.
He buried his face in her neck and kept screwing. He still couldn't make her respond.
Finally he decided, to hell with it, and forged ahead for his come, fucking hard and rapidly until he ejaculated, jerking and releasing his warm, thick fluid.
He pulled his cock out and stood up.
Candy slapped her thighs closed and sat up, titties bobbing.
He held out his hand to help her to her feet, but she turned away and got up alone.
She felt worse than she had last night. How dare Mark treat her this way, after she'd given him everything!
He couldn't appreciate her anger. He'd given her a good screwing. What more did a woman really need? The oral stuff was okay, when both partners felt like it, but when one of them didn't, the other should accept that fact. He hadn't asked Candy to give him a blow job. He'd enjoyed it while it was going on, but he hadn't appreciated the fact that she'd approached him solely on that basis. She had developed a real hangup for French sex.
Candy fled into the bathroom. For the second time in a row, she ended a sex session by diddling herself.
CHAPTER TEN
When she left the Compton's place to return home, Ginger had new confidence in herself. She saw everything in a different light.
She'd enjoyed Jean, but she had enjoyed Joe even more.
That was an epic discovery. It gave her new hope for winning Mark back and for living a more normal life. If she could respond to Joe as strongly as she had, she could do as well with Mark. The log jam in her mind had been broken, and that was all it took.
But the problem still remained of how to get through to Mark.
This was a thorny question. She couldn't just phone him-not after the way she'd talked to him yesterday, when he left the house. Anyway, if she were to swallow her pride and make the call, that would simply give him an opening to strike back. He certainly wouldn't respond in the way she wanted.
Still, she had to reach him. How?
It was axiomatic that when a person sought to persuade someone else, he first considered the other person's viewpoint and asked, what is that person looking for?
Mark was now living as a bachelor, and bachelors were constantly on the prowl for nookey, since they had none at home. But how did that help Ginger? She couldn't offer her tail to him directly. And if she got some other woman to approach him, how could that woman lure him home to her?
It seemed like an impossible proposition.
But she kept mulling over it. It was almost as if the solution were lurking in her subconscious, waiting to be plucked out if she could only grasp it.
Fate lent a hand. The following morning, Jean dropped in for a visit. She was on vacation from her job for the next two weeks. She had planned this, so she could devote her time to getting settled in her new home.
As soon as Ginger saw her, something clicked, and the swinging redhead knew she had the answer to her problem.
"Come in, honey," she said cheerfully to Jean.
The colored woman strolled into the kitchen. She was wearing shorts and blouse again, and she looked very cute.
"Oh, I like the way you have your place fixed up!" she said to Ginger.
"Thanks. Care to see the rest of the house?"
"Mmm-hmm. I'd enjoy it."
Ginger started the tour, chattering about the furnishings and other decorative touches. But in the back of her brain, she was trying to decide how to broach her scheme to Jean.
Before she had shown the other woman the entire house, she decided that the only thing to do was to come right out with it. First, she would have to admit that she and Mark had split up.
When she and Jean were seated in the living room, having coffee, she steeled herself and launched into the subject boldly.
"Jean, I feel I know you well enough to speak frankly."
"Well, I hope so!" Jean gave her a smile which acknowledged secrets already shared.
"I'm going to be bold enough to ask a favor of you."
"Go ahead, Ginger."
"I told you that my husband had gone away for a few days. Well, the truth is that we had a terrible quarrel and he moved out."
"Oh, I'm so sorry." Her sympathy seemed genuine. "Wait until I tell you what we fought about-he found out I was having an affair with a girl."
"Oh-oh."
"But I want him back, Jean. And I have new confidence now. I really made it with Joe yesterday. I could be a good wife to Mark, if he'd just give me another chance."
"How can I help?"
"You and Joe obviously are swingers. You must have some swinging friends, don't you? ' "Do we!" Jean chuckled. "Both black and white?"
"Mmm-hm."
"If I were to tell you where my husband works in town, and give you the name of the restaurant where he has his lunch ... do you suppose you could get acquainted with him and invite him to a party at a friend's place? I'll pay for everything. I'll be there, too. When he sees me make it with Joe or one of the other men, hell know I'm on the right track. I hope hell decide then to come home."
Jean appeared pensive. "I don't know, Ginger."
"What's the matter? You don't like the idea of making a play for him?"
"Partly that. It seems kind of underhanded. Also, I'd have to get some other people involved in it. And we don't really know if it would work. Maybe your husband isn't as ... well, tolerant as you are."
"He is! There's no racial prejudice in him. In fact, I think he'd be flattered and excited if a beautiful black girl like you were to give him the eye."
"Mmm."
"What do you say, Jean? Try it. Please."
Jean found it difficult to refuse her new friend. Also, the challenge of the situation stimulated her. But she was filled with doubt about the probable success of the project.
"What makes you think your husband will be convinced so easily? When he sees you at the party, I mean. Maybe he'll think you're just putting on an act. And anyway, how's he gonna like the idea of you screwing around with other men? That isn't gonna help get him back is it?"
"We've been swapping with another couple in the neighborhood for some time."
"Yeah? Well, hot damn!" Jean laughed. "Looks like you suburbanites aren't as square as I thought."
"We're anything but square," Ginger said. "Didn't I prove that yesterday?"
"You kinda did. Yeah."
"Mark's the same. That's why I'm sure you won't have any trouble with him. Convincing him that I dig men may be difficult, as you said, but I believe hell be able to tell when he sees me at the party. At least, that seems to be my only hope."
"Okay, Ginger. I'll try it. But don't blame me if the whole thing bombs."
"I'll be very grateful to you for trying, regardless of how it turns out." She took Jean's hand in hers.
The timing of the plot was flawless. Mark had had a bad experience with Candy the day before, and he'd spent a restless night. That morning he'd tried to make some time with Shirley, but she gave him the cold shoulder. She evidently was pissed off because he'd acted indifferent toward her lately.
When he went out to lunch, he felt forlorn and lonely.
Then he saw Jean. She had entered the restaurant shortly after he did and was seated at a table nearby. She kept watching him. When their eyes met, she smiled.
She was one of the prettiest black girls he'd ever seen. But she was more than pretty. There was a truly exotic quality about her.
He got up and walked over to her table.
"This is such a lonely world," he said with a smile. "Why shouldn't two people who are alone defy convention and just get together?"
"I see no reason at all." She smiled at him sweetly. "Won't you sit down?"
He was even handsomer than his photos, Jean decided. She understood why Ginger wanted him back, leaving questions of material security strictly aside.
They began to chat and, surprisingly, they found that they shared common interests. Lunchtime sped past. Soon they were leaving the restaurant together.
Jean had already decided she would go to a motel with him, if he were to ask. This wasn't part of her deal with Ginger, true, but she didn't see how it would hurt Ginger in any way. At the proposed party, Mark would be screwing other females. And as things were now, Ginger had no hold on him.
Mark's pecker was itching in his clothes. It wanted to get into this cute black babe so badly that it was threatening to stand up right now. But they had just met. Did he dare suggest they end this brief date with a roil in the hay?
Shit. What did he stand to lose in trying? And look what he might gain!
"You know," he said, as they walked along the sidewalk toward the lot where his car was parked, "I don't have to go back to the office today if I don't want to. I can call my secretary and say I'm out on business."
"Mmm." Jean smiled. "Sounds like you have a pretty good setup."
"It's good, as jobs go. But what's a job? What's work? Pleasure is what counts in this world, don't you think? And what greater pleasure than for two people, a man and a woman, to spend an afternoon together-where they can be alone and relax, with nobody else around?"
Jean lowered her lashes suggestively. "Did you have any special place in mind?"
"Of course. My apartment."
Well! Jean thought. Apparently he isn't prejudiced, after all. He's willing to walk me right into his apartment house, which is probably lily white.
"Will you go?" Mark asked urgently, taking hold of her arm.
"It'll be a pleasure," Jean said. His pecker twitched.
They hurried to his car.
"You're so beautiful!" he exclaimed passionately, as he lifted his face from her chocolate-colored breasts. He chuckled a little as he added, "And besides that, you taste very good."
She laughed softly. "You prick seems to think so. Look at how stiff he is."
"My prick knows what's good for him. Don't you, boy?" he asked it.
He made the pecker nod in response.
Jean laughed again, and suddenly she bowed her head to his belly. He lay back, shut his eyes, and knotted his fists.
The Negro girl's moist, caressing tongue set his flesh on fire and made his nerves jump. She scraped his skin with her teeth, and this inflamed him further. His cock had swollen so that it almost pained him. But that was an exquisite hurt.
Jean reached down to his thighs and stroked upward along one of their inner slopes. He stirred voluptuously, parting his legs wider. He dared to hope she would continue the caress right to his balls and cock.
She did.
Her hand gently surrounded his hairy testicles, which were drawn up tightly at the base of his upthrust prick. She rubbed those balls and worked her hand deeper into his crotch, until the long nail of her middle finger tickled his tingling asshole.
"Oh, baby...!" he groaned.
"Like that?" she purred.
"Love it!"
"Want me to do more?"
"Yesss!"
She worked her entire finger into his ass-crack. He pushed his feet against the bed, elevating his rump to make it more accessible to her. She rubbed her finger back and forth across his anus.
As she did this, she bent and caught his cockhead in her mouth. Magnificent thrills rocketed through him as she sucked and laved his pecker with her tongue. She kept caressing his asshole all the time, rubbing her finger up and down across it and finally centering on the very sensitive spot and moving her finger in rotation against it.
He was afraid he was going to come. He summoned every bit of resolution he could muster and yelled harshly for her to stop.
She obeyed immediately.
He grasped her and threw her onto her back with such force that her titties lurched crazily. She squealed with delight. He grasped her brown, smooth legs and yanked them wide apart.
He gazed at her fuzz-covered pussy, which was dark red in its center and dribbling with liquid love.
He worked his hands underneath her, between her bottom and the bed, and clutched her springy, satin-skinned buttocks. He lifted her rump.
Now he dived.
Jean gasped, then mewed delightedly as his mouth achieved hot, moist contact with her pussy. His tongue immediately sank into her lathered slit. He began to lap her honey with lustful abandon.
It was now her turn to quietly go mad. Oh, this guy was something else! No wonder Ginger didn't want to lose him.
Jean wrapped her dark legs around his twisting, tousled head. She wiggled her cunt gently against his moist, penetrating kisses.
He finished by licking her clitty thoroughly and making it tingle so that she finally squealed, "Come on and screw me! Hurry! I'm about to pop!"
He clambered forward, on top of her, and his cock slickly entered her open hole, sinking to its full depth. Her cunt muscles started working on him right away, contracting and releasing rhythmically as he stroked. It was great action!
He grunted happily and gripped one of her tits.
He screwed her harder and, as he approached his climax, he let out a harsh victory cry. She moaned and came with his first twitching spurt. She kept coming. He kept ejaculating. They heaved and groaned together.
It was blissful.
After they had disengaged and recovered a certain degree of equanimity, Jean said, "A friend of mine is giving a party-a real swinging bash. Both black and white are gonna be there. Do you wanta come?"
"If you're going to be there, I do," he said. He reached over and stroked her tits.
She chuckled and patted his soft cock. "You're sweet. I'd better tell you right now, though, that I'm married."
He sat up and looked down at her. "Where's your ring?"
"I slipped it off in the restaurant," she lied. "I was afraid you wouldn't approach me if you saw I had a ring on." (Actually she'd carried it in her purse ever since leaving home.)
"You foxy little cunt," he murmured. He bent down and kissed her.
"The only reason I mentioned I was married," she said, when they were lying side-by-side again, "is because I don't want you to get any serious ideas about me. I love my husband and I want to stay with him."
"Is he black?"
"Is he!" She laughed gently again.
"What would he think if he knew you were with a white man today?"
"The same as if he knew I were with a black man. He'd say, 'More power to you, baby!' We're like that-completely free and open with each other."
"My wife and I used to be that way, too."
"Oh! So you're married, also."
"Yes. But Ginger and I are separated. We're going to get a divorce."
"I see."
"I discovered she was a Lesbian." Jean laughed.
He pushed himself up on an elbow and gazed at her. "What's so goddamned funny?"
"The way you said that, you might just as well have said, T discovered she was a leper.' "
"Well, it's pretty much the same thing, from a man's standpoint."
"Bullshit."
"What?"
"Bullshit," Jean repeated. "You show me a woman who can't have a little fun with another woman, once in a while, and I'll show you somebody who doesn't have much sensuality in her."
He gaped at Jean in amazement.
"Mark, listen ... women are feeling creatures. Or, at least, they ought to be. They respond more to the sense of touch than men do. Men are stimulated by ideas, images. Women have to be stroked. And if a woman is responsive, when she's stroked she catches fire. Strangely enough, it doesn't matter a great deal who does the stroking or what sex the other person has."
"How come you know all this?"
She smiled. "I'm a woman, in case you didn't notice."
"Come on, now," he said. "You must've studied the subject."
"Well, I took psychology in college. But probably you did, too."
"Sure. I don't remember anything like that, though."
"Maybe you just weren't paying attention," she suggested. "Also, maybe you're prejudiced. About sexual things, I mean," she was quick to add. "I don't have any sexual hangups. I swing with girls when I feel like it, just like I swing with men."
He recoiled a little. "You're kidding."
"No. Absolutely not. And don't pull away from me like that. Lesbianism, so-called, and leprosy really aren't one and the same, at all. And as for Lesbianism-there's a big, big difference between women who dabble on both sides of the fence and those horrible, masculine bull-dykes you probably are thinking about."
"What's the difference? Tell me."
"All right. The bull-dyke has given up on men completely. Probably she wasn't much of a woman in the first place and found she couldn't attract them. That pushed her way over to the other side. But a genuinely feminine woman can respond to both sexes if she's open-minded enough ... and doesn't develop a hangup."
"What do you mean by that?" he asked.
"Well, sometimes when a woman first discovers that she can respond to another broad, she loses her sense of perspective and thinks she's not normal or something. That tends to push her toward women and tends also, if she isn't careful, to turn her off when she's with a man."
"You mean-it's all in her mind? It's something she brings on herself?"
"Of course. Aren't most of our troubles that way?"
He lay down and thought about it. "You could be right," he said finally. "But a man doesn't like to think about his wife playing around with ... girls."
"That's his problem, if he feels that way. He shouldn't care. My husband doesn't."
He sat up again and gazed at her. She was continually surprising him.
"You mean, your husband knows about you screwing other women?" he asked.
"Yes, silly," she smiled. "And I don't screw them. We just pet and kiss and come that way. Screwing is something that only a man can do. And screwing is something every real woman needs."
"The question, I guess," Mark said, more to himself than to Jean, "is whether my wife is a real woman."
Jean decided to change the whole play she and Ginger had mapped out. The original scheme wasn't right any longer. She and Mark had gotten too close, had become too frank and confidential with each other. Also, what she'd told him had sunk in, she believed. Now, if he were to come to the party and find she'd engineered the whole thing merely to get Ginger and him back together, he was apt to be bitter and to discount everything she'd told him so far.
No. That wouldn't work.
"Mark, I'm going to level with you."
"What, I'm going to level with you."
"What do you mean?" Suddenly he broke into a grin. "Have you been putting me on with all this Lesbian talk?"
"No. Everything I said about that is true. The put-on came in the way we met ... and in the party invitation I gave you a little while ago."
"I don't understand," he said.
"Of course you don't. I'll explain. And as I do, remember that I'm saying this of my own accord, because I think you ought to know right now. And hear me out before you draw any conclusions. Okay?"
"Sure. Go ahead."
"I know Ginger."
She watched his eyes change.
"Now, Mark, listen to the rest-she really misses you. She's totally lost. She doesn't know what to do without you. Frankly, darling, she's hurting for your prick, if you want to know the honest-to-Jesus truth."
He squinted. "How come you know her?"
"My husband and I just moved into your neighborhood. We bought the Munsons' house."
"Oh."
"Ginger came over, like a good neighbor, and we got acquainted." (One thing Jean wouldn't tell him was what the "getting acquainted" had involved, in physical terms.) "She couldn't keep from crying on my shoulder about the fact that you'd moved out. We cooked up a scheme between us for me to make a play for you and to invite you to a party at my friend's house. Ginger was going to be there. It was to be a swap party, and she was going to be making it with some man when you saw her-to prove to you that she likes men better than girls. Okay. So it was a silly idea. But we couldn't think of any other way to try and convince you."
"You mean, Ginger told you I walked. Just because she's a Lez?"
"Because you thought she was a Lez," Jean corrected. "Actually, she's no more Lez than I am ... or any other woman who's truly hot."
A derisive smile came over his face. "So this whole thing was just a play to get me back. Goddamn!" He started to climb off the bed.
Jean reached and grasped his arm.
"Mark! Please! I could have gone through with the party and never told you anything. I leveled with you here and now because I want you to believe what I said a little while ago. That was the truth-about most women being AC-DC, in a physical sense. If Ginger had any psychological hangups along with it, she's over that by now. She can be all yours when you take her to bed, as much as I was a little while ago. And believe me, mister, I came! Do you doubt that?"
"No." He couldn't doubt it. Jean's climax had been too intense.
"Ginger will come with you, the same way. Give her another chance, okay?"
He stared at the beautiful black woman. Then suddenly he laughed.
He said, "This has gotta be the craziest pitch that one person ever made to another. I don't know what to believe now, I swear!"
"Believe Ginger loves you. I can personally vouch for it. And believe that she's straightened herself out. Your leaving accomplished that. It shocked her into facing the truth about herself. She's a man's girl down inside. There's not the slightest question in the world."
Jean went on, "You don't have anyone else yet-judging by what you said in the restaurant about loneliness. All right. So go back to her on a trial basis. And broaden your own outlook about sex. All Ginger needs is a little of your understanding ... and a lot of your prick!"
Jean grasped it.
It throbbed in her hand, stiffening up.
Mark was too confused at the moment to know what he wanted to do about his future. He'd thought he was falling for Jean, but she had discouraged that. Now he felt that perhaps he had been a little unfair in his condemnation of Ginger. Perhaps she did deserve another chance.
But at the moment, his cock was hard with Jean's hand around it. If he couldn't decide about the future, he sure as hell knew what he wanted to do in the present.
He wanted to take another piece from this exotic, hot creature who was with him. It might be his last chance, he speculated.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately on the lips. She pressed her tongue into his mouth, and his tongue stroked it.
She kept stroking his pecker gently. It was iron-hard now, and the head was big with desire. Her fingertips danced over it.
Oh, shit, he had to screw her!
He rolled on top of her, and her thighs opened wide in welcome. His cock slid smoothly into her cunt, sinking all the way.
He began immediately to hump, and she moved with him in perfect counterpoint.
They screwed vigorously, their hips pumping and churning. The bed creaked. The innerspring mattress wheezed rapidly. The whole apartment seemed to shake as they approached their breathless climax.
When he came, his balls expelled his hot cream in blissful spurts. Jean caught it in her spasming depths. The spasms continued until he was fully drained.
They both sighed deeply, and he lay forward against her.
"Let me know I didn't do the wrong thing by leveling with you," she said, as she was getting dressed. "Tell me you'll call Ginger and say you want to come home for a while. Consider it a test if you want. I'm sure you'll be convinced. Just give her half a break in your mind. That's all she needs, and it's all I ask."
"All right," he said finally. "For you, I'll do it."
That furnished him a convenient "out". It saved his pride.
Jean didn't care. She just wanted Ginger and him to be reunited.
Her interest in that matter wasn't entirely unselfish. If Mark moved back in with his wife, it meant that they more than likely would be partying with the Comptons before too long. This would give Jean another chance to hit the sheets with him.
Mark didn't think about that right now.
His mind was full of Ginger. And, thanks to Jean, he was thinking about his wife in a little different way than before. His marriage, which he'd written off as hopeless, didn't seem quite so hopeless now.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Paul wrapped his thick hands around the soft-firm titties of the beautiful brunette, and bent to sample one of her nipples with his mouth.
The girl was his neighbor from down the street-Mrs. Sue Davis. He had gotten acquainted with her yesterday when her husband wasn't at home. To the rest of the neighbors, it had probably seemed like an innocent chat on her front lawn, but actually they had made a date.
This was the payoff-an afternoon rendezvous in a room at the Cozy Nest Motel.
Sue was responsive, murmuring sweetly and twisting passionately beneath his mouth. As she twisted, her full titties wobbled tautly back and forth, the erect nipples brushing along his lips.
He first sucked one, then the other. His hand stroked her thighs and belly. Finally it slid down onto her shaggy mound, stroking and plucking at the thick, soft fur.
She parted her legs for him.
He ran his fingers into her crotch, along her slippery cunt lips. He fondled the plaint flesh, sought out her clitty, and rubbed that little nubbin with the tip of his middle finger.
She cooed and squirmed harder.
"I wish that was your tongue," she told him.
He froze and pushed himself up on his elbows to look at her face. "What did you say?"
She smiled tensely. "I said I wish you'd put your tongue down there."
"You mean, on your cunt?"
"Of course. On my clit mostly. I love to have my clit licked."
"Well, I don't do that!" he exclaimed with righteous indignation.
They had stopped their sex play. She stared at him. "You mean, you don't do it with your wife?" Sue asked. "Of course not.'?"
"That poor girl."
"Oh, come on now! Just because you're queer...."
He hadn't meant to insult her that way, but she'd pissed him off, implying that he wasn't a good lover.
"Queer!" she exclaimed, her dark eyes flashing. "You call me queer just because I like a man to lick my pussy a little? You're the one who's queer for refusing to do it!"
"Now, wait a minute...."
"Oh, forget it. Let me get up, will you? I want to go home'."
He was in a turmoil. He couldn't have her leave like this. He wanted to screw her. Also, he didn't want her to be mad at him, even if she did have strange ideas about sex.
"Hey, take it easy," he said. "I'm sorry." He held her on the bed with him.
"You're sorry about what?" she demanded. "Because I want to go home or because of what you said?"
"Because of what I said."
"You don't think I'm queer any longer?"
"Of course not. I didn't mean that." He tried to grin. "I just got mad because you talked as if ... well, as if I didn't know how to make love."
"Do you know how?" she asked him directly.
His hackles threatened to rise again, but he managed to control them. His cock had slumped. Erections and arguments didn't coexist well.
"Of course I know how to make love," he said.
"Show me."
She lay down on her back and parted her legs, drawing her knees up.
He gazed at her pretty pink cunt, in its thicket of jet-black hairs.
So she was insisting that he go down on her. That was the price he would have to pay in order to keep her on that bed long enough to screw her.
He certainly wanted to screw her, but he wasn't sure whether he could pay the price. What if he got sick?
He would have to try, he realized. She'd put him squarely on the spot, and he had practically invited it. To chicken out now would make him look ridiculous in her eyes.
He steeled himself.
This was exactly the wrong attitude for a man to take when he contemplated eating a woman's cunt. He should feel loose and wanton, as if he didn't give a good goddamn about anything. Tension was almost certain to produce an unsatisfactory result for both lovers.
But Paul was tense, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Sue didn't do anything to relieve his tension, either. She was sore because he'd chosen to make an issue out of the thing. And he'd called her queer. She couldn't forget that.
She lay there and waited.
Finally he bowed his head.
The warm fragrance of her pussy reached his nostrils as he approached it. The scent was one of clean fresh arousal. Many men would have loved it, and it would have spurred them on.
But Paul almost panicked and pulled back. It was a testimonial to his will power that he continued to approach the cunt, getting his face right down next to it.
He didn't touch it immediately, however, and this aggravated Sue. She bumped her pelvis, smacking her moist, redolent twat against his nose and mouth.
His lips were pressed against the smooth split and against the hairs which lined it. His nose was at the top of her crack, inhaling the scent. His stomach lurched.
However, he pursed his lips and gave the pussy a quick, superficial kiss. He raised his head and wiped his nose and mouth quickly with his hand.
Sue stared at him. "That's it?" she asked, as if she couldn't believe it.
"I kissed you down there," he said. "That's what you wanted."
Suddenly she wasn't angry any more. She felt sorry for the man. He needed help.
"Oh, for pity sake!" she said, and sat up. "Lie down, will you?"
"What's the matter?" he mumbled, as he followed orders. "What re you gonna do?"
"I'm going to show you how to give head. Maybe when you see the way I do it, you'll loosen up a little."
She immediately bent over his loins, lifted his pecker, which was beginning to re-stiffen, and engulfed its knob in her warm, moist mouth. Snap-it swelled into full growth, and its shaft went perfectly rigid.
He made a rattling sound in his throat, and the most wonderful thrills shot through him as Sue sucked and licked at his flaming cock. It twitched and jerked happily.
Fearing that he was about to come, she raised her head. She didn't want the whole episode to end with his cream gushing down her throat.
"Did you like it?" she asked.
"Oh, goddamn!" he growled. "Sweet shit! That was the greatest!"
"Then give me a little, the same way. Find my clit. Lick and suck it. You don't have to lick my hole if you don't want to." She was deliberately being charitable with him.
He twisted around on the bed and bent to her fluffy loins. He was so excited over the way she'd treated him that he wanted to repay her in kind.
He hardly noticed her scent this time as he mashed his face against her twat. His tongue dug into the wiggly meat, found her little clitty, and began to lick it as if he really liked what he was doing.
Sue responded passionately. She moaned and pressed herself against him. Gradually he grew aware of her fragrance as he breathed in and out. But strangely he didn't seem to mind it now. In fact, the more he inhaled it, the better it seemed to him, until it became almost pleasant.
He licked and sucked and nibbled lightly-doing what came naturally in this act which he had previously considered unnatural.
Before he was through, he licked all the way down through her meaty folds and into her flaring slit. He ran his tongue in and out of it, lapping up her sticky, tangy juice.
His head went light, but his stomach stayed perfectly steady.
When he lifted his head, she smiled at him and glowed with warmth."
"Darling!" she purred. "Oh, that was wonderful! Now give me a big, fat screwing! Come on. I want your sweet cock!"
He drove his rod into her and worked it briskly up and down. She was as ready to pop as he was, and it took only a minute. The orgasm was satisfying for both of them, but strangely a little anticlimactic for Paul. He kept thinking about what had gone before, and in the back of his mind there was a nagging question:
Had Candy been missing that treatment from him, all the time they'd been married? Was that why she seemed to enjoy swapping with the Hatchers? Maybe Mark had been going down on her.
Paul asked Sue if she and her husband would be interested in some swap dates.
"Heavens no!" she said. "Oh, I wouldn't even dare mention it to him. If he knew I was here with you now, he'd kill both of us."
Paul shivered a little. "Well, maybe he'd feel differently about a swap."
"No chance! He's strictly a one-woman man, and he expects me to be a one-man woman. He thinks I am. But once in a while, I can't help kicking over the traces. Don't you dare tell anyone about this, even your wife."
Paul went through the motions of asking her for another date, but he didn't really care if she turned him down. He preferred swapping. He liked to watch Candy with another man and he enjoyed taking another woman in her presence. That was his hangup. He supposed everyone had them.
Also, he wanted to cure the. weakness in his marriage. He felt that he might know how to do it now, thanks to what he had learned today.
Sue said she thought it would be better if they didn't date again.
"Not that this didn't turn out good," she said, and added, "finally. But it's awfully risky to play around with neighbors. And please promise me you'll never tell a living soul."
"You have my word," he said.
They kissed on it, then got up. She went into the bathroom as he prepared to dress.
That night he was very attentive toward Candy.
She had been on the brink of telling him, after dinner, that she felt their marriage was a failure. But there was something about his attitude tonight which was different. She decided to give him, and herself, one last chance to prove that their marriage could work.
That was an uncharacteristically smart decision.
Candy and Paul went to bed together. He immediately tossed the covers back and removed her nightgown. He began to kiss her torso.
At first she assumed it was the old suck-titty routine, after which he would merely mount her and thrust his penis into her cunt. But he left her tits after a little while and kissed downward on her body.
She moaned and twisted passionately on the mattress.
He licked around her belly button, then into it. He fluttered his tongue:
"Ooooo, darling!" she exclaimed. "That really turns me on!"
Just wait, he told her in his mind. You haven't felt anything yet! I'm going to turn you on so strong tonight that you'll forget Mark Hatcher completely!
The truth was that she'd all but forgotten Mark already. Their last date, had been such a disaster that she'd realized he wasn't the man for her.
But who was?
Paul was about to answer that question for her, in a very emphatic way.
He held her legs wide apart and dived to place his lips against her, creamy, satin-smooth thigh. He sucked and licked along it.
She whimpered. "Oh that was good!" And he was so close to her pussy now.
Please, oh please! she prayed. Please make him lick it!
He approached the rosy, blonde-fringed shrine. Its teasing scent reached his nostrils. They flared. Goddamn, that wasn't half-bad, he thought. He seemed to be developing an appreciation for it..
He licked farther up the inside of her thigh.
"Paul!" she moaned passionately. "Ooh, Paul, I love you!
His mouth sprang to the very center of her juicy, soft cunt. She gasped, then whined sharply. She jammed a knuckle into her mouth and bit it.
He moved his lips against her succulent pussy, caressing the super-sensitive flesh. He allowed his tongue to slowly penetrate the flaring slit. It sank in and out, in and out. He lapped up her tangy, thick syrup.
"Oh, God!" she cried loudly. "Don't stop, darling! I love it!"
So it was true! That's what she'd wanted from him all the time. Well, she was going to get as much as she liked of it from now on because, strangely enough, he'd discovered that he enjoyed it, too.
He lapped and sucked at her quivering little socket. He licked up through her folds of slippery, soft flesh until he encountered her stiff clitty. He lapped at that and sucked it between his lips.
This was too much for Candy.
She had to come.
She finished tempestuously against his mouth, bumping and crying with sheer bliss as his tongue carried her through one of the sharpest, finest orgasms of her life.
He intended to screw her after that. But she wouldn't let him. She was thoroughly satisfied. Anyway, now she wanted to prove how much she'd appreciated what he'd done for her by doing something very nice for him.
This wasn't an altogether unselfish impulse on her part, for she enjoyed sucking cock, and finally she felt free to suck her husband's. And if she pleased him very much, she hoped he would want to please her again in the way he'd just done.
She guided him onto his back, and she bent over his loins. He gazed down the front of his body and watched with thrilled amazement as she wrapped her lips around the pinnacle of his pecker.
It jerked and telegraphed the most wonderful thrills to him.
She sucked his cock ardently, licking all over its head. She fondled his balls at the same time. She began to bob her head on his pecker-up and down, up and down-her lips sliding against his inflamed flesh, thrilling him out of his mind.
He couldn't keep from ejaculating. At the last moment, he tried to cry out and warn her, but he made only a rattling sound as his cream gushed up, his cock jerking in! her mouth.
She felt his warm' flood, and she clamped her lips onto his prick, sucking all the harder. It was as if she were drawing out his very life. His balls gave up all their treasure. His prick gushed and gushed. The thick fluid slid down her throat, and some of it leaked out of her mouth and dribbled down over her pretty chin.
Finally she let his spent penis fall away, and she raised her head to smile at him.
"Oh, Candy!" he exclaimed hoarsely, and he reached down to pull her into his arms.
They embraced passionately, and he kissed her. He tasted his cream in her mouth, but he didn't even mind that.
The whole experience had been wonderful-her part of it, and his as well. He knew he had saved his marriage, and they'd forged together a new basis for future happiness.
In the house next door, Mark was doing some forging of his own.
His hot prick was forging into Ginger's slippery-slick cunt. She was so happy to have it again, that she rose to his thrust eagerly, taking him as deeply into her crevice as he could posibly go. Her vaginal lips pressed against the very base of his cock. His pubic hair mingled with hers. His balls rested against her crotch.
He held himself up on straight arms and looked down at her. He couldn't help but watch her carefully, because he remained suspicious. She had welcomed him warmly to their home ... and into her body. But the whole thing could still be a trick.
The big question was-did she really like his lovemaking or just his ability to pay the bills? A man's checkbook counted for little in bed, once the screwing started. If she responded now-in a very emphatic, spontaneous way-he would believe she really loved him. But that response would have to be strong indeed.
Ginger was handicapped by the fact that he hadn't gone down on her first. He had refrained from that deliberately, to make sure that wasn't the only thing she liked about him.
Big Joe had done that with her-and very well-before she'd popped the other day. Could she pop with a man when he hadn't observed that preliminary function?
She wanted very strongly to climax with Mark. And it was with this purpose fixed firmly in her mind that she began to move her hips in response to his screwing thrusts.
He wiggled his stiff cock in her and pumped it in and out. Their bellies slapped. His balls thudded against her ass again and again.
He pawed at her titties and twisted each way to suck at the nipples, before propping himself above her again and gazing down at her face.
She was taking on the look of passion, all right. But looks could be faked. It was the way she moved, and the way she felt down below that would convince him.
She screwed her soft, slick cunt more ardently around his plunging prick. She gasped and moaned. He drove his cock to her hard.
Oh, this is it! she thought. I've got to make it with him! I've simply got to!
She'd better come, he was thinking through the red haze of his passion. She'd better prove to me now just how she feels. Is she primarily a girl's girl, or is she mine? That's what I have to know.
He got his answer.
Just as his rapidly-stroking cock was carrying him to his climax, Ginger suddenly arched upward, sheathing him deeply. She cried out, and her elastic cunt grabbed him. Again, harder. She quaked deep inside, squealed even more harshly, and her internal contractions turned into a continuous rippling sensation which worked over his pecker from its base to its tip.
Growling lustily, he let go his charge. She keened and spasmed some more.
He pumped and pumped into her until his balls were dry, then slumped forward against her sated body. Her hot mouth sought his. Their lips clung, their tongues stroked wetly, and they were as one together, truly, for the first time since they were married.
Mark couldn't help but be convinced.
Just before falling asleep beside his wife that evening, he reflected on the part which Jean Compton had played in straightening out his life and Ginger's. She was a real friend.
She and her husband would be the first couple they would invite to their home, to celebrate his and Ginger's reconciliation.
How about the Pattersons? They would feel slighted if he didn't include them in the party.
He thought about the swap dates which he and Ginger used to have with Candy and Paul. Were they a thing of the past, or should he and Ginger renew them?
Then a sinfully delicious thought occurred to him-perhaps the Comptons could be persuaded to swap with Ginger and himself. And what a kick if he could get square old Paul to swap with the Negro couple! He wondered how Candy would react to that, also.
He would have to go easy, because he didn't want to offend Jean and her husband. But they were broad-minded and would probably appreciate the humor of the situation if he were to explain Paul's and Candy's attitude beforehand.
By God, he would do it ... provided, of course, that Ginger agreed. He believed she would.
He looked forward to an interesting time for all.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Paul!" Candy cried as she gazed through the kitchen window. "Did you know Mark and Ginger were going to invite those Negroes from down the street?"
"What?" he said from the other room. "Don't be silly! Come on ... I'm ready to go. What are you doing out there?"
"Looking through the window."
She turned and strode quickly into the living room to join her husband. Her face was flushed.
"I just saw them," she said.
"Who? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Those niggers, I told you. They just walked into the Hatchers' house."
"You're kidding."
"No. I saw them."
"Well, maybe it's a coincidence. Maybe they just happened to drop in."
"That could be. But you know how liberal Mark and Ginger are. It's possible they invited them. That would be quite an insult to us, don't you think?"
Paul gazed at his wife thoughtfully. "Maybe not. Maybe that's the Hatchers' way of wising us up."
"What?"
"I had to be wised up about something else, don't forget. Never mind how it happened, but I was an awful square about sex-in spite of the fact that we were swapping with Mark and Ginger. Well, maybe I'm square about other things, too. Maybe we both are. The liberal attitude toward life may not be such a bad one after all."
"Are you saying that you'd like to screw around with Negroes?" Candy could hardly believe it.
"I'm saying I believe we ought to treat them as neighbors. And if that involves screwing around ... well...."
Candy set her jaw firmly. "I'm not going to the party!" she declared.
"Hey, now wait a minute. We're all ready."
"I don't care. I'm not going."
Paul studied her for a moment, then he grinned. "I may have gotten liberal about some things lately, but I've gotten even more conservative about something else."
"What do you mean?"
He advanced on her, still-grinning. "I'm the head of this house and, as such, I'm the boss. Maybe I'm going to have to prove that to you, hmm?"
She backed away. "Paul, don't you dare touch me!"
Suddenly he knew he had to. He reached out, grasped her by an arm, and deftly whirled her down across his knees as he dropped onto the couch.
"Paul!" she shrieked.
But he was already pulling her dress up, exposing her ass in skin-tight, pink, nylon briefs. As she thrashed about, her buttocks quivered in the thin, silky cloth.
He raised his hand over her ass and brought it down sharply, smack against the seat of her panties.
"Ooooow!" she cried.
He spanked her again.
"Ooh, damn you! OOOOW!"
He spanked her again, enjoying the way her bottom wobbled and quivered. Suddenly he couldn't stand to have even the thin panties between it and his hand, and he quickly stripped them down.
He spanked her bare ass briskly several times. She shrieked and kicked, but she couldn't get away.
Then he restored her panties, pulled down her dress, and helped her to her feet.
She was crying. Her make-up had smeared. Her blonde hair had come partly undone.
"Go into the bedroom and fix yourself up," he said with a benevolent smile. "Then get back out here. We've got a party to go to."
She turned and ran down the hall. At first she was going to remain in the bedroom and defy him. But she knew he would come after her and most likely spank her even harder than before.
He was the boss now. There was no doubt about that. And she would have to do as he said.
This gave her the excuse she needed to go to the party and do what she secretly wanted to do.
She wondered about that big black man she'd seen ringing the Hatchers' doorbell. Did he go down? And did he have a cock that was as large as the rest of him? How would it feel to get all that black meat shoved into her?
She hurriedly dabbed the tears from her cheeks and proceeded to repair her hairdo and make-up.
"Come on, baby," Jean said as she flopped onto her back and lifted her legs. "Give me that mean old cock."
Paul's cock was as mean and stiff as it had ever been. He gazed at her dark, oozing cunt, covered with tight black fuzz.
"What's the matter?" she asked, looking at him through her upraised legs. "Can't you decide if you want to try some black pussy for a change?"
"It's not that," he said.
He wanted to screw her. He really wanted to-and that amazed him slightly, considering what his attitude had been before. But even more surprising was the fact that he was considering whether or not he wanted to go down on her first.
How would black pussy taste? he wondered. And how would he feel about himself afterward if he were to try it?
Hell, he was a liberal now! Why shouldn't he try it? This might be his one and only chance.
He dropped onto the sofa with Jean, and bowed his head into the chocolate canyon of her thighs.
"Hey, look at old Paul!" Mark exclaimed with a laugh. "He's going for it head first.!"
Then Mark turned to see why his remark hadn't drawn any response. The answer was simple. Ginger, Candy and Joe were too involved with one another to pay attention to anything else.
The big black man was sprawled on his side, with his face in between Ginger's thighs, his red tongue eagerly lapping at her equally red and seething cunt. Candy was stretched out on the rub at right angles to him, holding his long, thick pecker just inches from her face.
She could hardly believe how huge it was. God, she wasn't sure she could get that monstrous head into her mouth. But she knew one thing for certain-she was going to try.
Mark watched as she gave a little whimper, opened her mouth wide, and fitted her lips down over the end of Joe's poontanger. She groaned and sucked, jamming her mouth farther over it all the time.
Joe pulled his head out of Ginger's crotch for a moment, so he could turn and look at the beautiful blonde who was cocksucking him. Hot shit, that was all right!
"Go to it, baby!" he growled, then laughed, and dived back between Ginger's thighs with renewed gusto.
Paul was lapping the daylights out of Jean's yawning, red cunt. She had her hands around the back of his head to hold him there (though that was hardly necessary), as she soared into the ionosphere of delight.
Mark glanced from him to his wife. The way they'd taken to this integrated swap date was a big surprise ... and a pleasant one. There was hope for the world after all, he decided, not altogether facetiously. People who could swap together could live together, couldn't they?
There was just one thing wrong with the party-he was left out of the fun. His cock was high and hard. He didn't much care whose cunt he shoved it into for starters, but he was sure as hell going to have to shove it into somebody's or it would explode. He glanced around.
There was only one possibility available to him. As Candy went at Joe's big, black whang-kneeling, arching her back, and twisting this way and that-her lovely ass was stuck up in the air. Her thighs were parted, and her blonde-fringed, pink pussy was exposed.
It was the only cunt in the room which wasn't in use at the moment ... and, therefore, it was the cunt which Mark decided to take right now.
He got down onto the rug behind her and drew a bead on her dribbling slit. He moved up, touched it with the tip of his pecker, and shoved.
"Uunng!" Candy said as his cock slid into her, but she didn't turn around to see whose cock it was. She was having too much fun with the cock she was sucking.
And she was giving Big Joe such a good time that he lapped all the harder at Ginger's steamy cunt. He was about to make her come.
Paul lifted his head from Jean's pussy and surged forward, atop her. She eagerly welcomed his prick where his tongue had been.
The prick sank much deeper and it churned her pliant flesh. She bounced against this horny white man, and decided that she and Joe had moved into a neighborhood which was even more swinging than the one they'd left.
Who would have thought it?
The suburbs weren't square, after all!
Ginger came with Joe's tongue in her cunt. Candy lapped eagerly at his big prong. Mark's prick, stroking in and out of her cunt, goaded her to go at it all the stronger. She wiggled her soft, rounded ass against Mark's prick thrusts while she noisily licked Joe's cock up and down and sucked at the end of it.
Finally she jammed her open mouth down as far as possible and took in the entire bulging head of the dick, along with some of the shaft. She bobbed her head in very short, quick motions ... while she sucked ... while she lapped ... while she played with Joe's balls.
The black man couldn't withstand this much stimulation for long. He tightened, jerked once, and let go, fountaining his thick cream into Candy's mouth. It cascaded down her throat. She gagged a little, but managed to swallow it while still sucking at the huge prick from which it came. She took more and more. It dribbled out and down over her chin.
When Mark saw what was happening, he speeded up, pumping his prick in her pussy very fast. He came, squirting his joy juice into her.
Ginger was sitting up and watching.
She glanced next at the sofa and watched Paul race to a thrilling, explosive climax within Jean's hot, spasming pussy.
Big Joe wasn't the sort to accept the kind of delightful treatment Candy had given him without returning her favor in kind. She needed it badly right now, and she was very happy when he urged her onto her back on the rug. She opened her legs for him, and he got his head down between them, seeking out her clitty with his long, skillful tongue.
He twirled that clit and lapped back and forth across it. Then he licked down her soft trough into her tingling vagina. He stroked his tongue in and out of the slick slit, as Candy ground her cunt against him and moaned with delight. His black hands squeezed her milky, pink-tipped tits.
Paul and Jean watched from the sofa. Both were fascinated to see their respective spouses enjoying themselves so thoroughly in this integrated way.
Finally Joe slid his tongue up to Candy's clit once more. He swabbed it a few final times and gave it a little suck.
"Screw me!" she demanded. "Get on top of me and screw me now!
He complied, running his long, fat cock into the slick crevice of her rosy cunt. He covered her voluptuous white body with his huge black form and screwed the living hell out of her until she came.
The others-her husband, his wife, and the Hatchers-watched with satisfaction.
The party had been a great success already ... and it had just begun..