When Loraine DeBeck brought her manuscript for The Unfaithful Bride into the Surrey House, Inc. office, she had a freshly baked apple pie on top of the stack of papers. She said that because she had never met us, she didn't want us to ever forget her. She was quite successful. Once having listened to her charming, intelligent comments, it was quite impossible to forget her.. . ever.
She lives in Borrego Springs, a desert community used by many doctors for their patients with respiratory problems. A really delightful, sun-baked village easily commutable to the San Diego area. Mrs. DeBeck takes care of her husband (a slight breathing difficulty at more humid locations) and has many many spare hours on her hands.
Hence, The Unfaithful Bride.
This is the story of reluctant virgin Virginia Ayers, the blushing bride. On the very eve of her wedding to handsome, virile Ewing Prince, she went out of her way to get together with a waiter in the honeymoon hotel. And so it went. .. with Virginia seeking the attention of almost every man she met.. . except her husband. Any other man could make her feel the way she thought a woman should feel, in the arms of a man. Though nothing whatsoever was wrong with her husband, Virginia still had a very difficult mental problem to overcome.
Only the gang at the shameless orgy, especially the girl that performed so wantonly with the real live pony, could be Virginia's only hope for having a sane, normal sex life.
The Unfaithful Bride then becomes a very fitting addition to the Rated X shelf of private adult fiction.
You will find the Rated X books, along with their companions, the Surrey Collectors Series and the HIS 69 gay titles at your favorite adult bookstore or newsstand each and every month. Serious collectors of strictly adult reading will want them all, side by side on their private book shelves for definite re-reading and ready reference.
We want to make all Surrey House, Inc. books the perfect reflection of your reading and sexual desires and invite your comments at all times, so we can better serve you. We urge you to write us with exact details of what kind of books you would like to read, and any other sexual matters you are concerned about, IN ABSOLUTE, STRICT CONFIDENCE. It is not even necessary to identify yourself in any way. Only in this manner can we be sure we are giving you precisely what you desire. No matter is too complex for you to approach us with, and nothing is too difficult for us to attempt... but only if you want it... and only if you take the time to write us with your specific requirements.
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THE PUBLISHERS
Chapter One
Every time the men who worked in the office at Prince & Princess Toys, Incorporated, met, somebody always got around to talking about Virginia Ayers' tits. Lester Pendleton usually brought up the subject, and he'd been saying the same thing and for such a long time that it wasn't necessary for anyone to ask who he meant when he said, "It's a crying shame. She sure is built like a brick shit house."
It was usually Thomas Gates who agreed quickly and added, "Got a pretty face, too."
Then would come the speculation. Jess Owens always took the same tack. "You can't tell me there's a real live honest-to-God virgin walking around these days. No sir. She's been pronged. You can bank on that."
Will O'Dwyer, who was known to be sensitive and just a little on the psychic side, disagreed every time. "You don't know for sure, you bastards. Especially you, Jess. Shit. You wouldn't know a virgin if one came up to you and stretched her pussy right in front of your eyes. I bet you've never had a virgin in your life. I bet you've never even gummed around on virgin pussy."
Then somebody would invariably ask Will how he happened to believe that Virginia was a virgin. He would always reply the same way, speculatively, regretfully, but yet with a certain amount of respect for a woman who had lived twenty-nine years and had been able to keep herself unsullied. "Well, I tell you. You take a girl who looks like Virginia, they almost every time have got their cherry. She's kind of got this-sleeping look. Like, I mean, she's awake and walking around, all right; doing her work and laughing and talking with the other typists, sure. But there's this look in her eye all the time that you don't see in women who've been around the block a time or two. You only catch that kind of an expression in real young girls, too young for their father or brother to catch 'em. Besides, she's got this walk. Anybody care to deny that Virginia walks like she's never felt a cock between her legs? They got a loose way of walking when they've been getting it regular. It's more, too, but I can't express ... "
"Seems like you're doing a pretty good job," said Carlo Gomez.
For a second, a little silence fell over the group. Carlo had just recently come to work for Prince & Princess Toys. He'd been on the job less than a month, and none of the other men felt quite right about discussing Virginia in his presence. She had come to be in the category of things that are almost sacred. Carlo was a Mexican. The men looked at each other and there was a little vibration of unease that hummed in the room. Within the exchange of looks was their unspoken agreement toward the outsider. Without saying a word, they conversed: He says he's half American and half Mexican, but he looks like a full-blooded Mexican, all right. Kinda light complexioned, but even so. What right has this sonofabitch to be talking about our Virginia and him only with the company for a little while, anyway? Besides, he's just a little too good looking. Almost on the pretty side. And he has this irritating way of talking. Soft, like. Suggestive. Always conscious of his prick, even when he's talking to men. Doesn't touch it, or any thing like that, but everybody knows he's thinking about it being down there between his legs.
It was Thomas Gates who had said Carlo Gomez was one of those men who could talk the balls off of a brass monkey. He'd been in the washroom when he'd made the statement, but it wasn't very long before every man in the office knew Thomas had said it, and they all agreed. They also all agreed that it would be a goddamn shame if it happened to be Carlo Gomez who got Virginia's cherry.
The subject was quickly changed. The talk got around to baseball, draft dodgers, the weather, long-haired kids and other important subjects. Then the meeting turned to business, which was why they were there in the first place. Afterward, some of the older men said that it was the shortest meeting they'd ever had.
Day by day, an uneasy pall fell over the men who worked in the office of Prince & Princess Toys. Nobody could put his or her finger on exactly what was out of tune, but even the women office workers felt the unrest,, the sense of something disrupting that had come along and destroyed the usually serene quality of the big office. Carlo Gomez didn't work out. Some say he was fired and others say he left for a better paying job. At any rate, the old feeling of being united resumed for the office personnel at Prince & Princess Toys once again.
Until the thing with Virginia Ayers happened.
In two months, Virginia would be thirty. Things in the office had just returned to normal after a flurry of summer and early fall vacations. Outside the windows, a riot of fall color turned the Illinois maple trees to glorious shades of crimson, rust, gold and brown.
It had been so long since Virginia Ayers had felt the little flutter of her heart, that exquisite little thrill that raced from breast to loins and caused her to feel all warm and melty that she didn't quite believe it at first. When she did understand that a spark of interest in a man had caught feeble fire, she tried to ignore it. She ga?ed out the window at the golden scene of autumn and said to herself: Don't be silly. You only get to feeling foolish and sexy in the spring. Fall is a time of death and decay. You feel sad at the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, don't you know that? So go back to your typewriter and work industriously. It's probably only indigestion. And whatever it is, work is good therapy.
Virginia knew the men talked about her. She knew they looked at her firm breasts and curving hips lustfully. It was no secret that the men in the office said Virginia Ayers was built like a shit house, sometimes brick, sometimes of fine, tight, mellow wood. At office parties where only the girls attended, Virginia dressed herself with good taste and wore cosmetics. Her hair was brightly burnished, dark auburn, thick and shiny and full of life and vitality. She was blessed with a creamy complexion and had few freckles, even though she'd inherited the red hair of her mother. Her eyebrows were dark and heavy and her eyes sparkled with good health if not with life. Some of the girl co-workers tried to get Virginia to wear eye make-up, but she never would. Virginia didn't like to call attention to herself. There was a certain amount of pride in her, regardless of her tendency to keep mostly to the background. That is, she wore clothes that looked nice on her and they fit. The fact that Virginia's dresses were never short enough to cause a man to hold his breath and hope he was going to catch sight of a pussy winking at him from under sheer pantyhose did not mean that Virginia looked dowdy. Virginia wanted to look nice. To look nice meant to be almost in high fashion, but not quite. In this way, no man ever openly looked at her with lust. She was clean and neat as well as nice looking. Virginia firmly felt that if she went to the extreme either way, dressing in very high fashion or very unfashionably, it would be the same as saying to all those men: Look at me. I've got a pussy. I've got tits. LOOK AT ME! Nice, she said to herself as she walked around on shoes that were neither clunky-clunk heeled nor yesterday's spikes with pointy toes. Nice, she kept saying as she held her stomach in unconsciously, kept her hair clean, used deodorant, bath powder, a light cologne and clear nail polish. Nice, nice, nice.
That beautiful fall afternoon, Virginia caught herself doing something she didn't know she knew how to do, although she had seen other girls do it. Her legs were better than nice. They were beautifully shaped, with delicate ankles and dimpled knees. She had never before allowed herself to sit sideways while taking dictation and stretch her right leg out in front of her and arch her foot! And there she was swinging it. Up and down, up and down, up and down. She frowned. Looked at the errant foot as though she wondered how on earth it could be carrying on like that when she was always determined to be nice! As soon as she looked down at the foot (which instantly stilled the infernal movement) Virginia blushed. She knew, too late, that when she'd looked at her foot she had called Hobart Smith's attention to the fact that she was actually appearing to show off the shapeliness of her leg! Mr. Smith had been dictating to her. As soon as Virginia's eyes lifted from her stenographer's pad and traveled to her foot, Mr. Smith looked at her foot and leg to see why she was not keeping her eyes on her work. The blush didn't help matters, either. Virginia took on a beautiful shell-pink glow when she was embarrassed. She felt awful. Right at that moment, she certainly didn't feel a bit 'nice.' Because just in that instant when Mr. Smith's eyes had traveled up from her foot to her knees, they had lingered on her seductively flaring hips. And that was the instant that Virginia's pussy chose to go into that annoying clamping thing it did sometimes. Seeping out onto the crotch of her panties was an oozing thick moisture. Virginia gasped. Dismayed, her hazel eyes met Mr. Smith's warm brown ones. His sparkled. Hers grew large and shiny. For a split second, he thought he read something warm and awakening in hers. Then he noticed that her mouth was opening slightly. That her small pink tongue was licking her suddenly dry lips. Hobart Smith's cock jumped inside his pants. It ached. The horrifying part about the entire little scene, Virginia thought was growing mortification, was that she knew Mr. Smith's cock was jumping inside his pants in silent, erotic answer to the hungry humming of her pussy,. She knew his cock ached. And it upset her to the point of tears. Just to the point, however. Virginia never did anything that would be upsetting to anyone. Like bursting into tears in the middle of eleven o'clock dictation. Such behavior wasn't nice!
Firmly, Virginia Ayers crossed her ankles and saw to it that her knees came together. She cleared her throat, gave Mr. Smith a cold look and said, "Your last sentence was: 'We are very happy that you have decided to stock Princess dolls, but have you considered the little boys in your area?"
"Urn," said Hobart Smith. He had felt the coldness in her voice and understood the quiet withdrawal of what he had instantly recognized as a sexual encounter without words or physical contact between them. Connection broken, he thought dismally.
When Virginia had finished taking dictation from Mr. Smith, she went to the restroom. As usual, Virginia was careful not to walk with the careless invitation in the lines of her body that most of the other girls either did naturally or by design. Nobody could tell by looking at her that her hands were icy cold and her head hot. Nor could anybody tell by looking at her that she was very, very conscious of that little spot of thickening ooze down there on the crotch of her nice panties. Not bikini panties, either. Virginia wore the kind that had elastic in the legs as well as around the waist. But Virginia was conscious of that horrid moisture. It had started to dry and the hairs of her pussy were sticking to it and they pulled when she walked. Her breasts felt heavy and it was terribly hard to keep from touching them when she was in the security of a booth. Her hazel eyes looked crushed when she sat on the toilet and looked at the patch of creamy white stuff in the crotch. One pussy-hair had remained embedded in the opalescent spot and it looked to Virginia's eyes positively vulgar and obscene. It curled so! And it was even a darker shade of auburn than her hair. Mahogany color against the pristine whiteness of her panty-crotch. Thoughtfully, she used her long fingernails with the clear polish on them and removed the vagrant hair, taking care to drop it in the toilet. Immediately, she felt better. But she felt better still after she had used a few sheets of toilet paper and partially dried the hated glob that had oozed forth unbidden from her secret, practically untouched hole.
What I have to do, she thought fervently, is keep a good grip on my emotions. I must never again allow myself to look at Mr. Smith. It's just that he reminds me of Uncle Jerry and that time when I almost-That was as far as Virginia would allow herself to travel backward along the time track of her twenty-nine, almost thirty, years.
Instead of allowing herself to remember those things that had contributed to her state of not-quite virginity, Virginia resolved to never look directly at Mr. Smith's face. To never again sit sideways on her stenographer's chair so her legs might get out of control. Once, during that time when she continued to sit on the toilet and wish the awful spot would dry completely, another thought almost crept into her mind: At least he's not a Mexican. He's a decent man who fought in the War for his country. Of course Mr. Gomez claims he's half American, that his mother was born here and he was, too, but somehow, he seems so-dark and flashy and foreign. He was in the service, too, but still. .. she was glad that she hadn't allowed herself to get that not-nice feeling about Mr. Gomez. But just the same, she wasn't going to do anything wrong with Mr. Smith, even though he was more suitable.
Virginia knew why she must never, never give way to her emotions. She no longer had to give it actively conscious thought. She knew. When she was washing her hands, she felt sick, but still determined. Nice! she thought as she opened the door and kept her eyes averted from Mr. Smith's desk.
Lester Pendleton leaned over and whispered to Thomas Gates. "Look at La Ayers. Looks like she sure-God has got a corn cob rammed up her ass."
"I'd like to ram something hot and stiff up her ass," said Gates.
The really weird thing about the entire story was that none of the men in the office gave Hobart Smith a thought when it came to Making Virginia Ayers. Hobart wasn't handsome. Neither was he especially smooth, brilliant, aggressive, seductively artistic or so emaciated that he brought out the maternal instincts in women. The only thing that Hobart Smith had going for him was a very faint resemblance to Virginia's Uncle Jerry Malone. Nobody at Prince & Princess Toys knew about Virginia's Uncle Jerry Malone, though. Most of the time Virginia was able to forget all about him. The incident with Virginia's uncle had happened later in her life than the earlier reason why Virginia had to be nice. If she had been inclined to label such events, Virginia might have called the Uncle Jerry episode Proof Number Three.
Number One event in nice little Virginia Ayers' non-sex life came about when she was seven. Her mother was about to go to the hospital to give birth to a new baby. Virginia and her mother had personalities that clashed. She got along well with her grandmother, and in her young heart she was glad that her mother was going to have to go to the hospital, even though she'd been informed by talkative friends and relatives that her mother would be in pain because of the new baby she would somehow get out of her stomach. Virginia was taking a bath. She was looking forward to being cuddled in her Grandmother Malone's arms. To being rocked and sung to. Her mother was thin and slightly bony. Her grandmother was plump and comfortable. Her mother seldom made cookies. When she did, they were sort of hard and not very sweet, while her grandmother made cookies that tasted as good as candy. While little Virginia washed and halfway wished something would happen to her mother so Grandmother Malone would stay in the house with herself and her father forever, she lost the soap. She groped around in the opaque water with her tiny child's hands and couldn't find it. She knew about what she called her pee-pee hole. When she couldn't find the soap, it seemed logical to her that since she hadn't swallowed it, she must have sucked it up inside her pee-pee hole. Virginia stuck an exploratory finger up inside her tiny little hairless vagina. It felt good! Her eyes took on a vaguely happy glow and her pupils became dilated as she wiggled and waggled the finger inside her vagina. Naturally, Virginia forgot all about the soap. She was humping back and forth in solemn, wide-eyed childish pleasure when her grandmother came into the room to see why she was taking so long.
"Why, honey," said her grandmother mildly. "You mustn't do that. It isn't very nice, you know." When the bathroom door opened, Virginia got a whiff of rich, chocolate cookies. The tantalizing fragrance of cookies fresh from the oven immediately overcame Virginia's only vaguely felt erotic sensation. Her finger plopped out of her hole and she stood up, naked and dripping, and reached for the bath towel. The water went glurg-glurg-glurg down the drain and the episode of finger in the hole was momentarily pushed aside in favor of chocolate cookies, grandma's warm, plump arms and lovely songs.
That night, Virginia's mother went to the hospital, just as scheduled. At noon the next day, Virginia was informed that she had a nice little baby brother, and wasn't that wonderful? Virginia nodded and smiled, because she knew it was expected. Again, she had that vague desire that her mother would just stay in the hospital forever so her Grandmother Malone would remain there with her. That night there was another bath, uneventful. The cuddling time lasted longer, and before she was tucked in, Virginia was treated to a lavish hunk of apple pie topped with ice cream. Her mother's apple pie was all right, but Virginia had to use her knife and fork to cut the crust.
The next morning, nobody came and awakened little Virginia. She got up and went to the bathroom. The house seemed cold, so she went back to bed. Now and then she thought she could hear somebody crying, but she was accustomed to having her mother come and tell her she could get out of bed, so she continued to lie there. She itched. She scratched. It was then that her wide-eyed interest came floating back. It returned on a cloud of rich euphoria mingled with erotica. Virginia had found something she had not known she possessed. She thought it was a little button. When she pressed on it in just the right way, delightful tremors filled her with an insatiable desire for more and more and more, they felt so good. The little button got all slick and sticky gooey and it felt even better after it got juicy. But a fire that blazed in her brain seemed to tell her it would feel even better yet if she kept rubbing it back and forth and round and round. While she was doing it, she managed to get her thumb partially inserted in her vagina. The hot little, squirming little button throbbed, jittered, thumped, swelled up bigger, then hummed. Virginia opened her seven-year-old mouth. "Alihhhhhhhh-oooooooooh!" She couldn't help making that noise. It had just come out, just exactly in the same way the juice had come bubbling out of her little button. Her heart hammered and her mouth felt all fluttery and as soon as she rested up a little, she was going to do it again, she vowed silently.
Just then, she heard her grandmother's footsteps. She remembered the mild way her grandmother had said, "Why, honey, you mustn't do that. It isn't very nice, you know." And all she'd been doing was fingering around in her hole, thinking maybe she'd somehow got the soap up in there! She didn't want her grandmother to think she wasn't very nice, and she knew perfectly well that what she'd just done wouldn't be considered nice at all! And so, Virginia had remained perfectly still in bed and hoped her grandmother wouldn't notice that she was shaking like a leaf and gasping for breath.
Virginia's grandmother didn't notice much of anything right then. She had come to tell Virginia that her mother had died.
It was almost unheard of, everyone said, for a woman to die after an easy birth the way Virginia's mother had. The autopsy showed that Mrs. Ayers had long been the victim of a defective heart. Virginia listened, but she could never quite shake the conviction that she was responsible for her mother's death. She had done something not nice. Because she was only seven, she didn't remember in her conscious mind that she'd wished her mother would just sort of fade away. In time the guilt association faded, but it never completely erased itself from Virginia's young and impressionable memory.
The Second Event came about when Virginia was twelve. Her grandmother had taken her little brother and gone shopping, and of course Virginia's father was at work. It was deep summertime and all the doors and windows were wide open in the small Illinois town. Virginia was standing at the kitchen sink with her head hanging down, warm water pouring over her long auburn hair when the delivery boy came with the groceries. The water was running and Virginia's hands were busily scrubbing, so she didn't hear the boy knock at the back door. Her first knowledge that someone was in the kitchen with her came at the same time that she felt strong hands in the process of yanking down her shorts and panties. "Hey!" She yelled the one word, kicking blindly backward at fifteen-year-old Gene Dawson's shins. The water continued to splash all down her back and she felt herself being dragged backward a few inches ... just far enough away from the faucets to keep her from reaching them. She continued to yell and splutter while the water kept running into the sink and fingers probed her lush little slit. Shivers raced up and down her back and her breasts felt alive and tender. Her outraged screams turned to a frantic sound down deep in her throat as she felt something hard and determined pushing against her adolescent vagina. "Mmmmmmmm!" Her moan was a combination of ecstasy and fear, slightly tinged with pain. She saw bright red lights under her wet eyelids and her ears roared as the hard knob of Gene Dawson's penis managed to get itself inside her tight hole. She kicked again, but not very hard. Then she spread her legs apart and humped backward. She wanted more of that wonderful thing inside of her.
Virginia knew very well it was Gene Dawson back there behind her with his cock an inch or so inside of her hole. Gene was always making remarks that were not nice. She'd never liked Gene very well because he wasn't very clean. But right then, she liked him very much. His hand was massaging her wildly working clitoris as he shoved his penis in another half inch. Over and above the roar of the rushing water, she could hear his breath coming in jagged pants. It was hot against her water-cooled back and shoulders. She was just beginning to hump furiously when Gene made a sudden lunge that pushed his cock a little deeper, yelled hoarsely, and everything stopped except Virginia's behind. Something hot and sticky trickled from his cock and filled her pussy, but she found herself humping backward against nothing. She was free to turn off the faucets, which she did automatically. But when she turned around, Gene was gone. Virginia moaned and groaned. Outrage ripped her up one side and down the other. Her box was on fire with desire. It felt swollen and hungry. The sides of it kept making greedy little clamping motions that reminded Virginia of the mouth of a goldfish when a little fish food is held over the bowl. She couldn't stop herself. There was a throw rug on the kitchen floor. Virginia fell down on it and put her hands together, one reaching around in back of her bare bottom, one reaching down in front of her tufted pussy. The fingers locked together against her dripping slit and her middle finger popped into her hole. She rode back and forth on her hands frantically, all the while making strangling sounds. The palm of her left hand gave her clitoris the stimulation it needed while the wiggling middle finger of her right hand added an extra fillip. When the rush of release rolled through her, Virginia opened her twelve-year-old mouth and grunted. As the good feeling increased to climax, the grunts turned to a wild yell of triumph, happiness and satisfaction. "Ahhhhhhh-eeeeeeee-OOOOOOOOOOH!"
When it was over, Virginia was so weak and spent that she had to lie there and pant for a while. Then she got to her feet and finished washing her hair. A few minutes later, Gene Dawson came with the groceries. Virginia knew as well as she knew her own name that he'd been there earlier, but he'd been smart enough to take the groceries with him. He gave her a shy smile tinged with guilt. She didn't say anything, but she sniffed when he held out his hand for the money her grandmother had left, and then she knew for sure. She was well aware of the smell of her own pussy, and Gene had not washed his hands.
A few hours later, Virginia's grandmother came in with the department store purchases. Her little brother had new shoes. Every step Virginia took reminded her of the bad thing she had done, because her pussy tingled pleasantly when she moved her legs back and forth. A strange sense of impending doom hung over Virginia, but she didn't know why. She wasn't surprised, however, when her father was in an automobile accident three days later. Virginia had done something wicked! Her father didn't die, but Virginia was positive that he lived only because she immediately promised God or whoever was in charge of such things that she would be a nice girl for the rest of her life if only her father could live.
Event Number Three, involving Virginia's Uncle Jerry, took place when she was almost fifteen. It was springtime and the earth was dark and cool and moist. Green growing things were verdant on the land. Aunt Martha came into town from the farm and asked if Virginia would come out to the farm over the weekend to babysit while she and her husband went to Chicago over Saturday night. Aunt Martha was Virginia's dead mother's baby sister. She was very pretty and inclined toward flirtatious ways. Virginia never did understand exactly what happened in Chicago, but she always felt her Aunt Martha did something that was not very nice. At any rate, her Uncle Jerry awakened her during the night. She smelled booze on his breath, but he didn't appear drunk. It was dark in the spare bedroom where Virginia was sleeping, and she wasn't fully awake when she felt her uncle's presence. At first, she was startled and somewhat afraid. Most of her fear had to do with getting pregnant. That ancient female fear had not crossed her mind during the partial pronging she'd received from Gene Dawson, but at almost fifteen, Virginia was more aware. Her voice, muffled with sleep, came softly in the shadows. "What do you want?" Even as she asked, though, Virginia knew what her uncle wanted.
"So pretty, Virginia," he said gently. "Such a pretty girl. Oh, God, what tits!" His hands were on them, hard yet strangely gentle. Her breasts swelled and the nipples got hard. Something thumped inside Virginia's belly. It felt good. Heat washed through her loins and centered on her pussy. The heat flared and felt even more wonderful when she felt her uncle's hands sliding down the length of her body. She wore a short nightgown of sheer gossamer material. Uncle Jerry's hand was warm against her soft skin. When he lightly caressed her flat belly, she moaned with pleasure. But when he left one hand at her breast, milking it with his fingers, and dipped one into the soft downy damp of her pussy, she shivered and cried out in ecstasy.
"Shhhhhh! Don't wake up the kids," said Uncle Jerry.
"You mustn't do that," said Virginia as she rocked her pelvis madly upward to meet his probing hand. She didn't say it, but her words were silently echoed by her startled thought. What if I get pregnant? "Mmmmmmmmmmmm," she moaned quietly. It felt so wonderful. "Mmmmmmmmmm, don't, don't, you know that isn't nice."
"What's not nice about it?" Uncle Jerry murmured the words, then covered her lips with his own. Then he stood up, and she heard the rustling sound of his clothing as it was ripped off his firm body. Her lips felt starved for the weight of his. Her pussy was seeping juicily and it was making those humming motions that were almost, but not quite, audible. It vibrated and her clitoris was swollen and fluttering madly. She wanted him to just do it to her with his hands, but she had an idea he wasn't going to stop there. She also didn't want him to do anything bad. But not as much as she wanted him to make her feel good. He startled her by parting her legs and suddenly dipping his head to her muff. She could just barely make out the shape of his dark head in the darkness. It occurred to her that she didn't really know her Uncle Jerry very well. Maybe he wasn't 'quite right' in the head. Because although Virginia didn't know much, she knew that wasn't the way people did it. In her alert mind, she thought, But I thought he was going to Juck me! Then she thought crazily, I better not say anything. If he's so nutty that he wants to lick my pussy, I better let him. He might get mad and do something terrible to me if I don 'tjust lie still and let him do it.
Anyway, she was so weak with fright that she couldn't have done much to keep him from tonguing her clit and fingering her hole, she admitted to herself with that small portion of her mind that was not saturated with desire. She shuddered sensually and wrapped her smooth legs around his head. "Oh!" She cried out at the touch of the tip of his tongue on her clitoris. That little organ leaped into immediate action. It felt hot and swollen and about to burst with joy. He made slurping sounds. Now and then he raised his head from her dripping pussy long enough to mutter a few words. "God, but you've got the sweetest little pussy in the world, Virginia."
To which she replied, "AHHHHHHHHHHH!" And wrapped her legs tighter around his head, forcing him back down there to where all the joy was going on. He sucked her clitoris sometimes. She was aware of that. And she was aware of his tongue slipping inside of her tight little juicy hole at other times. Once she wondered which she liked the best. To feel the tip of his tongue steadily lapping, lapping at her swollen, juicy clit or to feel it slipping deeply into her tight, straining vagina. Just when she decided she couldn't possibly stand it another second, she felt the spasms of her orgasm ripping and roaring.
"CUMMMMMMMMMINNNNNNNNNNN!" Mindful of the children, she screamed as softly as she could, panting and crying out in abandon after she had reached the apex. "MMMMMMMMM YES!!!"
Dimly, Virginia began to come out of the warm, deliciously lethargic cocoon that was the aftermath. She struggled a little, realizing her Uncle Jerry was moving around on her bed. Her mouth opened as she attempted to cry out, to tell him she was suffocating. He didn't pay any attention to her at all. Her hands beat against his hairy pelvis without much force. While her mouth was open, he shoved his fat old prick in. Her eyes flew open. The idea of having a prick in her mouth was startling. Yes, she told herself, Uncle Jerry is definitely crazy. Best to humor him. If he wanted to think her mouth was her pussy, she'd not struggle. Maybe it would soon be over and done with. It felt so big in her mouth and sometimes it threatened to gag her when it went all the way down inside her quivering throat muscles. But then she felt his questing mouth at her pussy again, and to her utter dismay, she began to like having his enormous cock in her little mouth. It slid back and forth. Her pussy was treated to a new and different kind of tonguing. Somehow, Uncle Jerry had gotten his fingers situated in such a way that he was milking her clitoris with them while his tongue was pushing away, down inside her clutching cunt.
Their bodies worked madly. The sound of their breathing was like a harsh wind in the middle of summer. It was a cool night, but she was aware of sweat on her body and his. Her jaws ached, but she knew she wouldn't give up the joy of sucking on that magnificent prick for anything. It seemed to her that it was all too soon when a fountain of thick rich liquid rolled out of his struggling prick and into her throat. She swallowed greedily, hoping for more. Just at that instant, her pussy rocketed off into another orgasm that would have made her scream loud enough to awaken the children and probably all the people in town if Jerry's prick hadn't been shoved halfway down her throat.
Several seconds later, their bodies moved apart. Without saying a word to her, Uncle Jerry padded silently out of the room, taking his clothes with him. Virginia was in such a state of pleasant exhaustion that she slept the rest of the night through without even dreaming. But when morning came, she was filled with a sense of guilt and a dark sense of foreboding. Something dreadful was going to happen. She just knew it would. She'd been a bad girl again.
A week and a half later, Virginia's little brother was stricken with polio. It was a very light case, and everyone was greatly relieved when the doctor said he would be neither crippled nor weakened. Even so, Virginia was absolutely certain that the disease had been 'sent on' her little brother because she'd done something that wasn't nice.
Virginia Ayers was a bright, sensible girl. She'd made good grades in school and did well in business college. Like many girls her age, she became interested in psychology. Virginia had insight, too. She could easily understand Kathy Jane Martin's migraine headaches. She felt Kathy Jane's migraines were brought on because of suppressed anger, turned inward. Another girl in the office had a habit of washing her hands all the time. Virginia suspected that the other girl had done something she was ashamed of sometime in her past, and like Lady MacBeth, was trying to wash out the spots. But about herself, Virginia showed no understanding. No matter how well she was able to diagnose other people's psychological hangups, she didn't see that she had any of her own. All she knew was that she must be a nice girl. If she was a bad girl, something dreadful would happen.
Hobart Smith didn't know anything about Virginia Ayers except that she was lovely and that the rest of the men in the office joked about her state of virginity. Hobart was kind and gentle. He liked Virginia. Liking her, however, did not keep him from often entertaining the notion of getting into her pants. Hobart was also resourceful. He looked at Virginia often. And he waited.
Chapter Two
Virginia knew Hobart was watching and waiting. Sometimes it made her nervous, but mostly, it made her hot. Virginia didn't like to feel heavy in the breast nor to find the hot juicy fluid that often dripped involuntarily from her almost virginal little pussy in the crotch of her panties. It made her feel 'not nice.' But more important, it made her feel anxious. She was aware of herself enough to know that she was feeling anxiety, but she wasn't exactly sure why she was feeling all those tensions that kept pulling her this way and that while she was experiencing feelings of extreme erotica. The girls in the office began to notice that Virginia was not quite as sharp when it came to getting out her work as she had been. Betty Haley cornered Virginia one day in the office. "Virginia, honey, are you worried about something?"
Virginia jumped and felt the hot flush of a blush straining her cheeks. Her protest was almost shrill. "Of course not. What makes you ask?"
"Well, it's just that you seem so ... sort of 'out of it.' And a couple of the men have mentioned that your work isn't quite up to par. Like that inventory sheet you did for Lester Pendleton. Lester asked me to find out if something was bugging you. There were a lot of mistakes in that sheet, Virginia."
Virginia was both angry and hurt. "He had no right to mention anything about my mistakes to you, Betty. If Lester found some errors, he should've complained to me. Not you."
"You're right, Virginia. But you know Lester's always had a soft spot for you. He just didn't want to get you all upset, so he asked me to correct the errors. There weren't so terribly many anyway. It was just that ... well, you know ... it isn't usual for you to make mistakes."
Only slightly mollified, Virginia made up her mind to try harder. It seemed to her that the harder she tried to turn out her usually flawless work, the more mistakes she made. In desperation, she turned to Betty Haley. They were in the restroom, and Virginia had just come out of a booth where she had been frantically trying to mop up the opalescent fluid that kept dripping out of her pussy when she least expected it. "Sometimes I think I might be losing my mind, Betty. I'm so nervous lately. I just don't know what to do!"
"Get yourself a man," said Betty. "My God, Virginia, it isn't normal for a woman to go around without a man."
"Oh, I couldn't do that," said Virginia in a pitiful voice.
"Why the hell not?" Betty eyed Virginia for a second, then she said impulsively, "Listen. There's the office
Christmas party coming up. Why don't you be nice to Hobart Smith? He's got the hots for you. Any idiot can see that. And he's a nice person, Virginia. You could do a lot worse, you know."
"Oh, I couldn't! I just couldn't do anything like that ... "
"Get your mind out of the gutter," said Betty in her typically blunt way. "I wasn't talking about your fucking around with Hobart Smith. I was talking about your getting married to him. Not only do you turn him on, he's obviously in love with you."
"Oh, you don't understand," said Virginia. "You just don't understand how I feel about ... well, about certain things."
"Yes I do. Virginia, you're getting older. You're soon going to be thirty years old. Women weren't made to go around without a mate. Neither were men. Just open up to Hobart. Be nice to him." And all the while Betty Haley talked, she knew she might as well be speaking to a blank wall. Without telling Virginia anything about the considerable worry Betty and the other girls in the office had been doing about Virginia's state of mental health, she made up her mind right then and there to Do Something About Virginia.
The office Christmas party was scheduled for a Friday night. Betty Haley had seen nothing wrong in setting things up with Hobart Smith that put him under the impression that Virginia Ayers was practically head over heels in love with him. Every time Hobart asked her a question, Betty saw to it that she didn't come right out and lie, but she managed to skirt the truth in such a way that suited what she thought were Virginia's best interests. Most of Hobart's questions were answered with a wise smile and a noncommittal answer. "Just wait! You'll see how she really is!" Or, "Listen, Virginia comes off as a shrinking little violet, but wait'll you get to know the real Virginia Ayers!"
Virginia planned to wear her red dress to the party, a dress that clung to her in the right places. It was neither too short nor too long, but another girl who worked in the office saw to it that Virginia's dress was shortened considerably ... by the. simple expedient of volunteering to pick it up at the cleaners and shortening it herself before she returned it to Virginia. When Virginia put the dress on, she wailed and held her head with desperate hands. To her frightened eyes, it looked positively whorish. She was in the process of taking it off when the girl who had shortened the dress waltzed in and said they were very late. "I can't go, Norma. I can't! Not in this outfit! I've gained weight or something."
"Don't be silly," said Norma, who hoped that Virginia's landlord never let it be known that Norma had been admitted into Virginia's apartment that one time. "It looks absolutely beautiful!"
"I'll have to change," said Virginia.
Norma patted her foot and looked at her watch. "Okay, but hurry." She knew it would not take Virginia long to find out that all her other party dresses had vanished ... temporarily taken away by Norma when she had been there on a previous occasion and Virginia had been in the bathroom. While Virginia shrieked and said she'd been robbed, Norma philosophically explained there was very little Virginia could do about it right then, and really, they had to go ... to take this little drink of wine to help her over the shock, remember, they were on the Committee! Virginia gulped the wine and left her apartment with Norma, who had promised to report the robbery for Virginia just as soon as they were at the party. "And stop trying to pull down your skirt. Really, Virginia, you've got beautiful legs."
That glass of wine made Virginia feel much better. Her spirits were soaring by the time they arrived at the motel ballroom. By the time she had taken off her coat and gulped down another glass of wine ... offered by the solicitous Norma, Virginia's spirits were positively roaring. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled. She was vivacious and forgot all about sitting with her legs firmly together. She even forgot to pull down her skirt. Betty and Norma kept a weather eye on Virginia, making sure she didn't guzzle too. much wine. It would never do for her to become sloppy drunk, they felt. They just wanted her to maintain that nice glow. That nice inhibition-lowering glow!
The best laid plans of mice, men and office co-workers often go astray, however. Instead of Virginia behaving in the way her fellow typists planned and playing up to Hobart Smith, Virginia found herself enchanted by Ewing Prince, recently divorced head of Prince & Princess Toys, Incorporated.
"Why that dirty little fucker," said Betty Haley as she watched Virginia waltz off with the prize. "After all we did for her!"
"Oh, he'll soon get tired of Virginia," said Norma. "She's too naive. Too downright unworldly. Ewing has already been through three wives and probably a hundred mistresses. The first time he expects little Virginia to give him a blow-job and she looks at him like a simpering Pollyanna fool and asks him what a blow-job is, he'll be back in the running, okay."
But there again, things did not turn out that way.
Ewing Prince was tall, handsome and brilliant. He had silver hair, blue eyes and several million dollars. The fact that he was almost twice Virginia's age, which put him close to sixty, seemed to ease Virginia's ideas of propriety.
Anyone, she felt, who was old enough to be her father, would never put any sexual demands on her. Virginia was a good listener. Ewing Prince, who had turned an idea and five hundred dollars cash into a billion-dollar industry, enjoyed talking. He told her on that first night about the two little girls he and his third wife had adopted. "I have their custody. Of course my former wife sees them on vacations and in the summer, but the little girls really need a mother. A full-time mother, Virginia."
Virginia sparkled and smiled and listened. Hei sympathies were aroused, but nothing else. Ewing Prince drew a fine picture of a decent man who had been unfortunate in his choice of wives. Virginia appreciated the fact that Ewing never once said anything really bad against any of his former wives. To her, this was a mark of a true gentleman. When he got around to saying things to her about the kind of wife he had always wanted (a high-minded, old-fashioned girl who would be satisfied to live in a mansion) she had already anticipated his next question, which was spoken gently, almost wistfully. "Would you marry me, Virginia?"
Virginia was under the impression that all Ewing Prince wanted was a mother for his two little adopted daughters and someone to grace his home. That kind of marriage was something that offered her no threat. Not wanting to appear too eager, she said she would have to think it over, but she knew what her answer would be.
Three days later, Virginia and Ewing Prince were married. She couldn't understand why Norma and Betty and the rest of the girls at the office were so angry with her. "But you told me I ought to get married," she protested when Betty gave her the cold shoulder.
It was Hobart Smith who told her that Betty and Norma and several of the other girls had more or less considered themselves in the running for the next wife of Ewing Prince. He also wished her all the happiness in the world.
Virginia's wedding night was a traumatic experience for her. She had expected Ewing to give her a fatherly kiss on the forehead and retire to his own room in the luxury hotel suite in San Diego where he had flown her. Instead, he followed her into her bedroom and started taking off his clothes.
"Maybe I have things sort of backward," she said uneasily. "I thought when you first showed me the suite of rooms that you said this bedroom was mine. Was mine supposed to be the other one?"
"Not at all," said Ewing Prince. "This is yours. For sleeping."
"But you ... " Virginia felt a little foolish to be in such a predicament. She wondered if her new husband had consumed too much brandy at dinner. She didn't really like to point out to him that he was taking off his clothes in what was supposed to be her bedroom, but she felt duty bound to do so. "You're taking off your clothes in here!" Her hands were suddenly icy cold. Her forehead was blazing hot. A shudder of horror ran up and down her back as she contemplated what she thought was surely the most enormous cock in the world. And there was no doubt about it. It was rock-hard and straining with juices. In fact, a little shiny drop had formed at the silken head of it, silvery against the purplish cockhead. Virginia clamped her mouth shut before she said the other thing that was on her mind, which was to the effect that she had been under the impression that men who approached sixty were all finished with sex.
Ewing grinned at her. It was a pleasant kind of grin, not at all threatening. Just complacent. "This is your bedroom, Virginia. For sleeping. I like to sleep alone."
"Oh," she said. "Then what... ?"
"It's also for fucking." Ewing Prince's voice was definite. "I don't think it's at all gentlemanly for a man to make his wife hop out of the bed where she's just been fucked just so he can stretch out and sleep alone. So I made this little concession. We fuck in your bedroom. Then I get out of bed and go down the hall and sleep alone."
"But I ... " Nervously, Virginia clasped and unclasped her hands. Under the circumstances, she could see quite clearly that it wouldn't do at all for her to come right out and tell him she had no idea in this world that she'd be expected to do anything like that! "Did you know that I'm ... a virgin? I mean, I am. I really am!"
Ewing Prince's smile grew wider. He nodded his head. "Yes. I had heard rumors to the effect, Virginia. When I first saw you sitting behind the typewriter a few years ago when you came to work for the company, I heard you were a virgin. Frankly, I didn't believe it. But then, as time went on, I began to believe there reallyand truly was a bona fide virgin running loose upon the land. And at twenty-nine years of age, too. Fantastic. Unheard of, I might say. But when I kissed you the other night after we left the Christmas party, I knew for sure you were. My God, I've had sexier kisses from my grandchildren. The girls, that is. My grandsons don't kiss men on the lips. Might give them ideas."
"Then you only married me because I'm ... untouched?"
"No. Of course not. I could find almost a hundred virgins if I wanted to marry someone eleven years old and wasn't choosy. I wanted to marry you because you're beautiful, intelligent, and you look good in your clothes. I intend to fuck you too, of course. That was the prime reason. Now and then I see something I want. It isn't often, of course, because I have everything. But the idea of someone who has lived to be twenty-nine years old and hasn't ever fucked! Good Lord, it was intriguing! What a joy it would be, I thought, to be the first man to penetrate that soft little, tight little, una wakened little coozey of yours. To see your face when you reach your first orgasm. To make you cum. Not once or twice, Virginia .. . but three or five or seven times. To see you unfold into the beautiful creature you were intended to be. Women are wonderful. All women. Even the bitches have something wonderful and magic about them."
Virginia was sitting in a chair with her legs quite close together, unconsciously protecting her threatened pussy. Her husband was standing in front of her, but four or five feet away. She sometimes looked at his face. She still found it handsome. Almost ethereal. His voice remained gentle and sweet. It was hard for her to relate the delicate way he spoke to her and his sensitive face with the silvery hair with his penis. All the time he talked to her his hand was on it. Just holding it. Loosely. Almost carelessly. It was very difficult for Virginia to keep her eyes trained on his face. Not with that purplish-looking, blood-engorged cannon pointing right at her. It was also difficult for her to really follow what he was saying. She remembered that he'd just said all women are wonderful. She was wondering if he was perhaps slightly deranged. Because he'd also added that even the bitches had something wonderful and magic about them. She licked her tips. "What do you mean, Ewing, that even the bitches have something wonderful and magic about them?"
"Why, they're warm and giving. They've got cunts." He laughed harshly and advanced a step. "I don't go along with this Women's Lib thing, you know. I mean, hell yes, I think women are as good as men. And I pay the female employees exactly the same salary as I pay the males. But I think Women's Lib is silly from a sexual point of view. Because, goddamn it, Virginia, it takes a cunt and a prick. Don't you see that? To fuck, I mean. And without fucking, why, Jesus! There's nothing!"
Virginia stood up. Her voice was nothing but a little squeak of fear that reminded her of a mouse firmly held in the paws of a great big muscular cat. A male cat, of course. And a female mouse. Because Ewing Prince had suddenly strode across the two or three feet that had been between them and put his bludgeoning cock inches from her startled eyes. "But there's a lot of things in life that are worthwhile, Ewing, besides ... having sexual intercourse!"
"Undress, Virginia. Take off all those fancy duds and walk around for me, sweetie. I want to see those healthy, huge boobs of yours bounce up and down. I want to see your belly button and your sizzling little cunt and the round, firm curves of your sweet little ass. I'm not in any hurry to get down to the fucking, love. I just want to play a little at first."
"OHHHHHHHHH!" Virginia's voice trilled up and down the scales as a blush wrapped her from head to toe in scarlet. Wildly, her mind skittered from one thought to another. She had a vision of herself stripping down to the buff and majestically walking around the room while a man gazed at her naked skin. In a way she couldn't understand, the idea of herself doing such a thing made her get all weak and woozy with desire to do just that. In another way, she was absolutely horrified at the idea. "I just couldn't," she said weakly.
"Nonsense," said Ewing Prince. "I'm your husband. Look at me. I don't mind showing you my prick. I'm not ashamed of my body. I'm proud of it."
"You have every right to be, I'm sure," said Virginia. She stuttered a little. Then she wailed like a child. "But you're used to doing that sort of thing!"
"Now, goddamn it, I've been patient long enough," said Prince. "Are you going to take off your clothes and do as I asked or am I going to rip them off you?"
"Oh, you wouldn't!" Virginia actually gasped. She had a healthy respect for the beautiful dress she had been married in. Ewing had insisted on paying for everything. At first she had chosen modestly, but he had grown impatient with her, reminding her that she was going to be wife of a millionaire. In her mind's eye she could see all the lovely clothing ripped and torn to shreds, which would be just the same as ripping up a thousand dollars, thought Virginia sorrowfully. And Ewing did, indeed, look grim. Very grim.
"I would," said Ewing. And suddenly he had his hand on her lovely shoulder. His fist grasped the expensive fabric and something inside Virginia's soul wrenched pitifully just as the threads wrenched.
"I'll do it, I'll do it," she screamed. And in the back of her mind she thought crazily of Little Black Sambo.
That's not the way it was at all, she thought. That writer just SAID it was little Black Sambo. It was a woman. A little white Virgin. Wearing her wedding clothes. And her husband said he'd rip all her finery to shreds if she didn't do something dreadful and there Little White Virgin would be, naked and scared, all alone and defenseless in the jungle, if she didn't do it. And she'd be just as all alone and defenseless if she DID do it. And there that sonofabitch was, back there a few minutes ago, telling me he believes women are just as good as men! How CRUEL! But even though those thoughts were running through her head, Virginia slowly started to take off her dress. It was threaded with silver and buttoned all the way down the front with pearl buttons. Because her fingers were clumsy from fear, it took her a long time. Now and then, she stole a glance at Ewing, who had plopped himself down in the chair she had vacated. He was just sitting there with his hand slowly pumping up and down on his great big inhuman-looking cock. His eyes gazed at her almost mildly, and his mouth was curved into a pleasant smile.
His face doesn 't match the rest of him, Virginia thought as she stepped out of the gossamer gown and carefully placed it across the back of the chair. There he sits with his cock in hand. Stroking it. Naked and lean and all that sex exuding from his pores. And if anybody looked at a picture of his face they'd believe he was in a meeting of his stockholders if they didn't know the difference.
In spite of the fact that the salesgirl had told Virginia nobody was wearing a bra these days, she had insisted on one. It had seemed to her that it would be just awful if her nipples puckered because of the cold and were too vulgarly plain to be seen under the sheer dress. And so the salesgirl had sighed and tossed her a very, very sheer see-through bra that wasn't necessary at all, because Virginia's size 36-C cups showed no sign of sagging. She wasn't aware of it, because she couldn't bring herself to look at Ewing when she was unfastening the bra, but he licked his lips and drooled a little when her big round firm mellow breasts plopped out of the mesh of the bra. She heard him when he spoke, though. His voice was a command. "Come here."
Slowly, Virginia walked over to him, very conscious of the fact that she was wearing nothing but pantyhose and a halfslip.
"Bend down, Virginia."
"Oh, please," she said breathlessly. But she bent down all right. She didn't have much choice, because he pulled her down by the simple gesture of using her tight pink nipples to pull her with. He kept one hand on one nipple while he made biting motions at the other one. Slowly, he ran his tongue all around the puckered areola, then swiftly slipped the hardened peak in his mouth and sucked. When he had sucked it for a while, he switched over, fondling the spit-wet nipple with one hand while he sucked and sucked and sucked to his heart's content on the other one.
Virginia felt a twinge. It began across her back, just a few inches below her waist. It was a heavy feeling and it was not unpleasant. Her breasts felt heavy and there was something undeniably erotic about watching Ewing's greedy lips as they sucked on her breasts. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open in wonder as she panted slightly, at the same time being aware of a faintly frightening threat. Her thoughts came jaggedly, rapidly. It isn't nice! There's something bad about feeling this way. Dangerous, too. The twinge of arousal that she had felt became instantly anesthetized, regardless of how much she had enjoyed the first flush of passion. She struggled. Tried to pull her tits out of Ewing's mouth. Her eyes looked sick and scared as she protested, feebly pushing at his face at the same time she tried to pull away from him.
Ewing became incensed. He felt he had been quite patient enough. His mind was filled with manly thoughts, chiefly those that had to do with the fact that she was his wife, damn it, that it was all well and good to be a decent sort in these days of strife, but there was also the matter of carrying decency too far. "Cut it out," he said as he pushed her roughly to the floor. "Don't struggle to get away from me like that." And all the time he was talking he was working toward getting her in the position he wanted her in. His cock was a living, flaming mass of desire. He was sure he had been patient and gentle and kind long enough. The fact that his urgent cock was going to explode with hot juicy cum any minute whether it happened to be inside Virginia's cunt or not made his actions more definite. His hands were on the richly curving mounds of her ass and he was expertly flipping her rigid body over on her back, paying little attention to her protests.
"Wait!" He heard her yell the word, but it barely penetrated his lusting mind. "Easy!" He heard that, too. Then dimly, he heard her beg, "For heaven's sake, please! Don't hurt me!"
For some reason, this pitiful cry made Ewing's simmering heat more intense. He parted her legs and took a good look at the curling pubic hair that guarded her satiny, pink, extremely untouched-looking cunt. He swallowed and felt the saliva a thick juice in his throat. In all of his almost sixty years, Ewing Prince had never seen a more delectable-looking pussy, he thought with growing headiness. In that split second of time when he took a moment to gloat over what was opened up like a flower before him, he knew he would ravage it. He also knew that he would enjoy ravaging it, and the man-thing that beat in his breast told him that Virginia's pussy wanted ravaging. It wanted a taste of cock. It wanted to feel the length and breadth of a satisfactory stuffing. He smiled and bared his teeth, the blood surging through his head in unison with the throbbing yearning in his prick.
One more thing occurred to him in that split second of eternity between the actual plunging into Virginia's tight little, hot little hole and the thinking about it. He recalled in burning detail how he had long ago lost out on the chance at seeing an actual to God cherry. When Ewing had been young and in the first flush of his youth, he had been under the impression that it was not quite nice to fuck. Since it was not quite nice to fuck, then it followed that it wouldn't be quite proper to really take a good look at the clutching cunts of all the girls he had robbed of their cherries. Sometimes Ewing became enraged at his mother who had filled his young head with that kind of hopeless horseshit. He felt it had robbed him of the full delights of a really good fuck at an age when he hopped gleefully from one girl's bed into another. But just then there was no rage in his heart at anybody. There was nothing but a certain amount of nostalgic regret over the lack of cherries that had been presented to him after he finally rid himself of his mother's ... and his aunt's ... hidebound preachings. There it is, boy, he told himself as his grin widened. The first time you 've laid eyes on a cunt that hasn 't been shafted by a hundred cocks in many a year. So take a good look.
Virginia had her eyes tightly closed. Her hands were balled up into fists and every fiber of her body was all set to resist the mindless plunging of a cucumber-sized penis that she was sure was going to tear her asunder. She knew when she was overpowered, and now that her pretty dreams of a platonic kind of marriage were shattered, she thought it would be best just to lie there and take it, get it over with as quickly as possible. The onslaught on her body was going to hurt, she was sure. Half kill her. Her only protection was to tighten her muscles against it and hope for the best. Virginia's reaction was not unlike the sensation of being in a dentist's chair. Her stomach lurched and she gasped as she felt, not his prick being pressed between her legs, but his fingers, gently tugging at the swollen lips of her pussy.
Virginia opened her eyes. She wanted to ask Ewing what he was doing, but the words stuck in her throat. She merely gazed at him, terrified, as she took in the gloating expression in his eyes and the hard, grim look of his mouth. She felt an exploring finger going inside her dry little hole and winced.
"Jesus," he breathed. "Tight as hell. Relax a little, honey."
Oddly enough, considering all the things that were on Virginia's mind, she said, "But, Ewing, we're on the floor!"
"Yeah," he said without really knowing what he was saying. The fact that they were on the floor was not pertinent to anything as far as Ewing was concerned. "Goddamn it, can't you relax a little, Virginia?"
"Mmmmm-nnnn," she said with a violent shake of her head.
"Well, shit, honey, it's likely to hurt you if you don't."
"Woooo? Woooo? Ccccc-cream?" Virginia mouthed the partial words, wishing she could bring herself to speak out. After all, she thought in a kind of fury, she'd read about how these things ought to be done. If he would just use some of her cold cream, it wouldn't hurt nearly as much. And the suspense was killing her. She figured she wouldn't really mind so much if he'd just get it over with. She also tried hard not to wish he'd dip his head down there and lick her cunt the way her Uncle Jerry had done that shadowy night so long ago. Every time she thought about that, she felt a clamping action down there in the vicinity of her pussy. Then it occurred to her that she might be depraved, thinking about her Uncle Jerry just when her own husband was getting ready to fuck her. If he ever gets done with looking at it! That was an afterthought that shook her body like a leaf under a strong wind.
"Yeah, well..." Ewing didn't really want to be brutal. There was something helpless and frightened about the look on his bride's twenty-nine-year-old face that seemed ridiculous, considering her age, but not so ridiculous when he considered the fragile, untouched look of her pussy. He nodded and reluctantly got to his feet. Halfway expecting her to jump up from the floor and run screaming and naked from the suite of rooms, he quickly grasped the jar of Virginia's cold cream in his hands and jerked around violently, ready to catch her if she dared move from the floor.
Virginia hadn't dared to move. Her eyes had followed her husband's naked body as it jumped across the room and she'd taken in the dark way his balls looked, astounded that they were so swollen and heavy, wondering at the same time if she would become instantly impregnated what with all that thick juice roiling around in there. His staff stuck straight out at an angle from his dark brown curling pubic hair. Virginia winced, then drew a shaky breath of thanks to whatever it had been that had motivated him toward that jar of cold cream.
Chapter Three
It felt cold to the pulsating, shrinking lips of Virginia's loins. She stiffened, only vaguely aware of Ewing's patient voice. "Shit, Virginia, you act like you're going to a goddamn funeral! Relax a little."
"I c-c-can't. I'm sc-sc-scared." Virginia was also embarrassed to have herself exposed like that before him. The embarrassment was confounded by her sudden tendency to stutter, something she had never done before in her life.
"I never really thought you were a virgin. I mean, I know everybody said you were," he said as he slathered the cold cream all around her hole. "But Jesus! In the last half of the twentieth century, a fucking virgin! I thought they were full of shit, those fellows that work for me."
"Ohhhhhhhhh, this is awful," said Virginia.
"You're going to love it, honey," said Ewing. He had calmed down a little, possibly taking pity on her agitated state. He shook his head. "What a fucking waste! What a waste, I tell you. All these years that have passed you by when you could have been fucking around. But goddamn it, I'm glad. Glad, you hear me?" Suddenly he bent down and kissed her startled face, and she felt a rush of remorse mixed in with the fear. She knew he was trying to be kind and patient, and even though she knew very little about the actual mechanics of sex, she had a pretty good idea that it was more than his prick that was giving him trouble. She responded mechanically to the tender kisses that he showered on her and tried, not to notice it when she felt a sudden mass of sticky substance spewing out of his prick and onto her belly. It embarrassed her terribly. Not for herself, but for Ewing. She was sure it irritated him to cum like that before he even had it in her, and right then Virginia made up her mind to try to cooperate, no matter how much it hurt her. Sternly, she forced herself to ignore the sticky cum that was not only thick on her flat belly but dripping obscenely all down around her waist and onto the hotel rug. She put her arms around him and kissed him fervently. At least in what she assumed to be a fervent manner. When his head dropped from her lips and started to suck on her tits, she didn't have to pretend so much. The little moans that came out of her mouth were genuine, and she was beginning to get the hang of it, she thought. His fingers roamed up and down her body, now and then tweaking the nipple he didn't have in his mouth, now and then caressing the firm fiat surface of her belly. When his hand reached down to her pussy, all lathered with cold cream, she held herself absolutely still and closed her eyes, forcing herself to return his ardent kisses. She felt his prick stiffen again. It was down around her hips and it wasn't so terribly alarming, now that it had funneled off onto her belly. It leaped and started to pound against her hip, and when his finger dipped down into the well-lubricated recess of her hole, she humped upward, confident that this was the way it should be done. Her mind rang with bell-like alarm. He's going to fuck me now. Going to fuck me now. Going to fuck me now! Firmly, she told her self not to protest, to pretend!
"Put your hand on it, honey .. . ahhhh! God, that feels good. Ahhhhhh, honey, that's it. Pump it up and down like a good girl."
Virginia heard his voice and a spark of pleasure mingled with her newly formed determination to make him happy ... to make the best of things, to be nice! Although it revolted her a little, she admitted to her secret self that she actually liked the satiny silk feel of the skin of his prick, actually liked the hard, firm, meaty feel of it inside her curled and stroking fingers. Maybe, she began to hope, I'll even like it when he puts it in me.
Even so, all the terror came washing back over her once the firm flesh of Ewing's prick was out of Virginia's hand. She took a deep breath and hoped for the best when she felt his lips lingering on hers for one final time, then a little suck at each nipple, like a promise of more to come, before, his mouth left her breasts. She opened her eyes and looked at him, hulking over her. Her eyes took in the throbbing, purple cockhead and she shivered with terror. This time she knew for sure she was going to get it stuck in her. Nothing would hold him back. She felt his hands parting her pussy hair, which had become somewhat matted with the liquified cold cream, then a gentle, but firm pressure of his hands when he opened her reluctant legs. She gasped at the first feel of his bulging cock when it came smack up against her protesting hole. "Ohhhhhhhh, nooooooooo, wait just a little longer," she whimpered.
"No, now goddamn it," he said grimly. Ewing just knew he couldn't wait any longer. He hadn't minded shooting off that first time onto her belly at all. He knew he would immediately get another erection, but he'd been rather glad to shoot off that first time, knowing the second hard-on wouldn't be quite as stiff, quite as powerful, quite as big. His patience had already worn thin, and he'd surprised himself at his pantience. He wondered for a second if he had really fallen in love with this incredible virgin. He hadn't married her because he was in love with her, as far as he knew. He'd married her because she had looked sexy and exciting and he'd been intrigued with the rumors in his own main office that she was a virgin. But right then, Ewing wasn't sure exactly how he did feel except that he knew he had to fuck her this time.
He pushed it in. He felt the sweet, heady clasping of the inside of her sheath. Sweat was slick all over his straining body. It had been forever, he thought with a wrenching pang, since he'd felt anything like that sweet, tight, clutching, sucking, milking action. His back broke out in goose flesh as he rammed it in another inch. Virginia whimpered, but she humped forward with her pelvis. She likes it all right, thought Ewing with a grateful blaze of pride. Yeah, she likes it all right... going to like it even more. Half sobbing, he pushed his blazing cock in deeper, growing half faint at the delectable push-pull motion of her inner muscles. Her legs were tight around his hips, and he could feel her feet, locked at the ankles, across his back. Momentarily, he pulled backward and took a look at her face. She had her eyes closed and her mouth was open and she was panting. She looked extremely child-like. Much younger than her years, he thought with a rush of tenderness. He decided to go easy. If he could. It was hard to do because his prick was a thick instrument of screaming need. It wanted to crash into the soft, tight, pulsating depths of her pussy. To whang right in there until it reached the end of her wildly working pit. To rest the blazing, aching, exotically throbbing cockhead against the unyielding flesh of her very womb. But he forced himself to go easy, to take it a half inch or inch at a time and give her time to rest in between times.
"AHHHHHHHHHH," he said as he finally sank it in to the very balls. His cry was of delight and with all his heart he wanted to rest it in there, allow himself to actually wallow in the contracting sweet depths of her channel. But his prick had a mind of its own that had nothing to do with the gentle way Ewing's heart was feeling just then. He couldn't help himself any longer. He yanked it out almost to the bludgeoning crown and felt it tremble on the thin, tender membrane of her vestibule. Then he wriggled his naked ass around in the air, pivoted and made ready for the huge downward thrust. Virginia cried out, and to Ewing's frenzied mind it was a cry of delight ... he hoped. Again and again and again he plunged his mighty staff in and out of her trembling pussy. He distinctly felt the sympathetic nerve reaction of her clit. It hummed, vibrated, fluttered and made little sucking, mouthing gestures against the underside of his heavily veined prick. Yep, he thought triumphantly, she's going to get her gun off for sure.
Ewing Prince was no novice at the art of making love. At the tender age of fourteen he had jumped the twelve-year-old girl who had lived next door. Back then he had never listened to the feeble, moth-like wingbeats of his conscience, because the driving urge to cum had been the only thing that really mattered. Next had come a visiting girl cousin from Decatur. Then, in quick succession, he seduced three school teachers, a librarian, his father's current mistress and sundry and assorted high school girls who had hung around. During those twenty years that spanned Ewing's most active sexual life, he was confident that he had satisfactorily reamed the best of them. During those panic-wracked days of the early part of the Depression, Ewing had managed to hold onto his job in a candy factory. He had brought chocolates to girls who wore bright red lipstick; short skirts and marcelled hair. Whether it had been the candy or the magnetic personality of the young man who was destined to become a millionaire, he didn't care, but he had fucked them all. In the late thirties, when hemlines dropped again, Ewing had no trouble in getting the girls who wore teddy suits to yank the satiny crotches to one side while he pronged them steadily and almost indiscriminately. Sometimes he fucked in bed. Other times it was in doorways, on stair steps, out in the open and under the stars, once in the vestibule of a church, and often in the back seat of his father's V-8 Ford. Ewing stopped listening to his mother and his old-maid aunt, who spoke often to him of the dangers of wearing himself out. It seemed to him during his fucking heyday that the more he fucked the more he wanted to fuck. It was like eating. In the morning, he would get up and enjoy a hearty breakfast. That started his juices running and by noon he was ravenous. If Ewing didn't eat in the morning, he wasn't particularly hungry at noon. It took a little reasoning to realize that the more he ate the hungrier he got, and from there he soon rationalized that the more he fucked the more he would have the ability to get a hard-on so he could fuck again.
It was during the Second World War that Ewing married the first of his succession of wives. He looked back on them all with fond memories, confident that each of them had contributed to his total happiness. So what if the first one actually preferred women. At the time, it had rattled his cage, but Ewing had the ability to turn all things to his advantage. His first wife had been instrumental in turning him onto the first group sex he had ever had the pleasure of encountering. Not only that, she had come up with the idea of starting a toy company. The proceeds kept Ewing and all of his former wives in luxury, and now that he was approaching sixty, he seldom had to bother his head with the actual running of the company. To him it seemed that marrying Virginia was the absolute crowning touch of pure pleasure in a lifetime spent in the pursuit of happiness. It was necessary for him to believe she was loving every minute of the really expert fucking he was giving her; therefore he enjoyed the delusion that she was adoring it.
The woman-thing in Virginia was only faintly aware of all these things that were rattling around inside her new husband's head at the time he was giving her that first thorough pronging. It came on her out of a sense of survival that was partially influenced by her own physical needs that had been so long denied. She felt the deeply penetrating heat of his prick each time it slammed into her, and after her ravaged little hole recovered from the first shock, she didn't really mind too much. Then she began to mildly enjoy it. It seemed to Virginia that if she kept on trying ... that is, if she went through the motions ... a spark would catch and hold. Her body remembered the glorious sensation of hot juices that had once raced and melted within, even if her mind didn't want to think about it. Her body was in the position of the old nursery story about the boy who had cried wolf! Time and time again Virginia had felt the sweet heat of desire bursting to bloom inside her pussy. The delightful heat that had filled her loins and made her breasts shiver and swell. The early orgasms she had experienced had faded to a faint memory, neatly covered under the scar tissue of fear and anguish. Too often her yearning body, oozing forth with the good rich juices of life, had been severely punished for doing what came naturally. Although she felt a tremendous desire to feel MORE, she couldn't make herself. There was the pleasant sensation of having her husband's arms around her in a close embrace. She liked that. Then there was the automatic humping motions she made that felt neither good nor bad. And there was the slight pleasure of her too-long-denied body in the rhythmic plunging. In and out. In and out. She responded to it, yes. But not the way she really wanted to respond ... not the way she really felt she ought to respond. Finally, she gave her attention to the climax she instinctively felt was building in her husband. Soon he would explode in cum, she thought in something like awe. He was going to feel the ultimate in interpersonal sensuality! And there she was, fucking as furiously as she had ever dreamed about, and getting absolutely nowhere! Anger and sorrow melded in her as she strained upward, rocked, pivoted her plump ass, fingered her hard nipples and hoped to cum too. Her anger was directed at her husband as much as at herself. It seemed to her that it was somehow his fault for having deluded her so. She'd felt reasonable in her belief that there would be no sex between them, then he'd practically raped her. But since Virginia was usually a sensible person, she quickly squelched that idea. Goddamn it, she thought bitterly as she felt the first rush of his seminal fluid hammer up against her womb. Goddamn it all to hell! I just turned it off too often!
Hopefully, she kept on rocking back and forth and round and round, even as his seminal fluid filled her cavity as it rolled and gushed out of the end of his seething prick. She was almost desperate to cum. When she finally realized that he was all through ... at least for a while-she went through the motions and language that she thought were suitable for a woman to make when she is in the hot, frenzied fever-pitch of ecstasy, the cum. She opened her mouth and yelled. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Virginia had no female-oriented desire to fool her husband into believing she had cum just because she wanted to soothe his ego. Her action had to do with her own ego. She was simply too ashamed to allow him, male that he was, to know that she couldn't cum!
Slowly, reluctantly, she allowed her vibrating clitoris to draw away from the delectable heat and hardness that she had thought any minute would cause it to flutter off into orgasm. Not now, she told herself. Maybe the next time.
Because it had dawned on her that even though fucking was not nice when done by a single girl (she was still sure of that conviction) she felt it had to be nice when it was carried on between husband and wife. And, since it was nice ... it was something she wanted to enjoy. And enjoy, and enjoy and enjoy.
Thoughtfully, Virginia allowed herself to look at her husband's limp prick. It was resting against his inner leg, sticky from all that cum that had spewed out of the end of it, and didn't look as though it would ever swell to the magnificent length and thickness that had almost given her so much joy. She wondered how long it would take her to make it get big and fat and hard again.
Chapter Four
It didn't take her long.
Virginia was surprised at the instinctive knowledge she had in the art of getting a limp prick hard again. At least, she figured it must have been instinctive, because she knew she hadn't had much experience along those lines.
Ewing was absolutely elated. He looked down at the telltale brightness of blood that flecked the cum and felt all new and young and virile. Not that he'd ever worried about virility to any extent. Sensibly, Ewing Prince had always seen to it that he kept using the muscles and tendons in his body, every one of them. Even so, he felt it was definitely a feather in his cap to have managed to capture a virgin of twenty-nine at his age ... and to have brought her to a screaming orgasm the very first time he screwed her. In the back of his mind was a small, shadowy doubt, but right then he was so satisfied with his bountiful life that he ignored the murmuring of that tiny doubt. Shit, he thought with a fatuous grin as he watched his beautiful wife get to her feet. Shit yes. She loved it.
Ewing was not a highly educated man. He'd gone to high school, served in the Second World War and considered himself a patriot. He was often grateful because good fortune had smiled on him, but then, he rationalized, he'd always done pretty much what he thought people ought to do. For instance, he had never raped a woman. He had been good and kind, and except for fucking a lot, he'd never worried his mother. He'd gotten along well with his father, and although he had besmirched his image as far as all those marriages and divorces were concerned, none of them had been his fault. And now, to make sure his sex juices didn't dry up in his later years, he had been presented with a fantastic gift that he'd never even dreamed he'd have. While Virginia was in the bathroom, he reflected for a while on his happiness. He wondered if it was because he'd been a pretty decent sort most of his life that all these good things came his way. His grown children didn't do any of the godawful things so many of his contemporaries' children did, for instance, and he sometimes felt he'd influenced them wisely. He knew he would be ready to break his sons' heads open if they went around in the dirty garb of the hippie cultists, with long hair and beads, threatening to blow up the world. His grown daughters, like his sons, had gone to college and taken their place in society.
Meaningful, thought Ewing Prince. They were meaningful citizens, useful members of the Establishment. And Ewing saw nothing wrong in the Establishment. He was proud of the fact that his children paid their bills, dressed decently, went to college and then into some kind of acceptable employment. As he flipped his semen-encrusted prick to the other side of his groin pensively, Ewing Prince wondered if he was being fatuous when he considered maybe he was getting his just desserts out of a life well-lived, prudently managed. Then he got to his feet and went into the other bathroom. When he came out, he picked up the telephone and ordered a sumptuous meal.
Virginia came out of the other bathroom and smiled at him. He put down the telephone and gave her an adoring look. Right then, he felt he really and truly did love his new and fourth wife very, very much. "I ordered dinner, my love," he said as he caressed the tender skin that was so soft and fragrant after her bath.
She sat down on the twin bed opposite Ewing and gave him a tremulous smile. "In the room?"
He was quick to wonder if he had done the wrong thing. "Would you rather go downstairs? Or somewhere else to eat, sweetheart?"
"Oh, no!" She shivered a little and slipped under the covers of the bed. "I'd rather just be alone with you."
Under the covers, Virginia's hand wandered down to the soapy-clean, fragrant hair of her pussy. Even after the bath, it still felt achingly empty. Without jumping on top of Ewing and practically smothering him with hot dripping pussy juice, she wondered how she could manage to let him know she wanted to do it again right away. Studiously, she avoided watching his handsome naked body as he walked around the room, picking up a book, then putting it down, then settling down in a chair with a newspaper. She wished she could bring herself to tell him how she felt. Or more explicitly, she thought, she wished she could tell him how her pussy felt.
It reminded her of having a half-finished cup of coffee waiting on an end table in the living room while she answered the door and gave a stranger directions he'd asked for. In the back of her mind had always been the tantalizing memory of that cup of coffee, even as she had politely given directions. Yes, she decided as her hand restlessly whipped back and forth across the pouff of pubic hair and she wished she dared to massage her clitoris, that was the way her pussy felt. Like her mouth felt when she wanted to finish a cup of coffee. Or maybe more like her tongue and mouth felt after eating just one peanut! She was obsessed with the idea of cumming. She just knew the gushy-glory was there, inside the melting, hungry mouth of her vagina, brought almost to the point of the exalting fury, then stopped. Like one more pump or downward plunge of Ewing's marvelous cock would have done it. Just one more, she thought with hot desire. One more long drive down to the bulging point of his balls and I would have-yes I would, I'd have cum!
"Are you cold, darling?" asked Ewing thoughtfully. He had noted that she shivered a little under the sheets.
"Cold?" Virginia's eyes looked at him, perplexed. She felt on fire. Especially her yearning, grasping, clamping pussy. The fire ran in and out of it, spread down the inner sides of her legs, flared upward where it raced like wild fire through her belly and caused it to lurch, then settled seductively on her breasts. Her hands clutched in a frantic attempt to keep the fingers off her hard nipples. She wanted to pull them. Pinch them. Wondered with a portion of her mind if she could get Ewing to suck them a Utile before room service brought the dinner, and decided she couldn't, just couldn't be so forward as to come right out and ask him. Inside her head she could almost hear her pleading voice saying it to him. "Ewing, suck my tits a little before they come with the food, hmmmm?"
God! What on earth has gotten into me? Aghast, Virginia asked herself the question, then hid her tiny smile as she realized full well what had gotten into her. And decided that it simply hadn't lasted long enough, and that was where the trouble was. She promised herself that as soon as she knew her husband just a little better she would be able to bring herself to speak frankly to him about the way she felt. But even as she promised herself, she shrank from the idea of actually doing it.
Ewing continued to read for a while and Virginia's thoughts continued to wander around, keeping company with her hands, which settled for furtive seconds like restless birds on her pussy and breasts. She knew with a slight feeling of revulsion that if Ewing were not there in the very room with her, she would be forced to masturbate. It was something she had determinedly kept herself from doing for years and years and years, and the idea made her feel degraded and even more unsure of herself than she had been.
In time, the man came with the dinner cart. Ewing dashed into his own bedroom and threw on a bathrobe before he answered the door. Virginia was relieved over that. She'd been afraid he would go to the small sitting room of the suite and open the door without first putting something on.
It seemed to her that the young man who wheeled the steam cart into the rooms was taking a very long time about arranging things. Overcome with curiosity and an increasing flow of saliva that was brought on by the tantalizing aroma of food, she slipped into a negligee and tiptoed to the doorway. Right away, she felt her heart hammering with joy and pleasure. The young man was arranging a vase of sweetheart roses on the gleaming white tablecloth. His handsome face was wreathed in smiles as he stepped back, made a flourishing gesture with his hands that took in the bucket of ice with the wine and the entire meal and looked at Ewing. "Is everything to your satisfaction, sir?"
"Everything is just fine," said Ewing, and Virginia saw her husband sign the check and give it to the waiter. Then she saw the waiter's liquid eyes for a flashing second as he took in the sight of her, delectably beautiful in her white negligee. His nose twitched. She blushed and felt her nipples get even harder. She knew, even though the waiter simply bowed and turned his back that he knew! Knew that she was a bride, yes. That she was a virgin, probably. But most incredibly, she knew without knowing how she knew that the handsome young waiter with his young, dark, handsome face and all that marvelous hair would like to ... yes! Do it to her! It was all she could do to keep herself from running after him. From tackling him around the ankles and throwing him to the floor. And yelling at the top of her lungs, "Fuck me, fuck me!"
She wondered what on earth she was going to do with herself. It was terrible to feel that way. In all truth, she said to herself severely, you can't blame anything on Ewing. You acted like a fool A prude and a dum-dum ding-bat. It isn't his fault you didn't cum, because he fucked you for several minutes. And he's crazy about you, Virginia. That's obvious. And he's got all that lovely money. So count your blessings and as soon as you've eaten, he'll fuck you again. Because he's obviously capable! Then you'll go back to feeling normal.
Somehow, Virginia managed to get herself through the meal. She was hungry and the roast duck stuffed with wild rice was both succulent and scrumptious. The wine was bubbly and just right. The tiny new peas in butter were a bright accompaniment to the orange of the mandarin sauce and the blood-red of the spicy, sweet-sour beets. All through the meal, Ewing Prince and his wife carried on the loving, harmonious conversation of people who are not only happily and newly wed, but adult enough to be pleased about it. Virginia allowed herself to give in to the strong desire she felt to stroke and caress Ewing's mildly interested prick where it lay like a flat worm (right at first) against his inner thigh. He was pleased and surprised. She wriggled happily and spread her legs wide when he tenderly played with her humming little clitoris. They didn't touch the dessert. Ewing did drink half a cup of coffee before he lifted his rosy bride to her feet and held her close against his hammering chest. Then he took another sip of coffee before he lifted her in his arms and carried her to her bedroom. His eyes glowed with incredible joy. He fairly swelled with happiness and the insistent belief that at last, in his sixtieth year, he was going to know true contentment. It was obvious to Ewing, that although the fucking part of his new marriage had gotten off to a bad start, the best was yet to come.
For Virginia, she could think of nothing except the mind-exploding, shrieking need of her pussy. With every beat of her heart and flutter of her eyelashes, she kept hearing her inner voice screeching: GONNA GET FUCKED! GONNA GET FUCKED! GONNA GET IT NOW! GONNA CUMMMMMMMMMM!
Her mouth was a soft, pulsating, wet organ of eroticism as she breathed almost inaudibly, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me." Over and above her garbled voice she was dimly aware of a delighted grin that lit up Ewing's face as he said soothingly, "Why, you little darling, you! What a little sexpot you turned out to be."
"Yes, yes, yes, yes," she rasped with eager abandon. Thinking: This time I'm going to get it, get it, get it! Her hands were busy at his balls where she fondled, squeezed gently and wondered in abject rapture at the size of them. She couldn't resist the temptation to pump madly up and down on the huge organ that jutted straight out at her from his tangled pubic hair and immediately noticed with what amounted to glee that the power of her fingers somehow made it grow even bigger, stiffer.
He kept crooning to her, stroking her breasts, her shoulders, marveling at the soft texture of her flesh, the warm, pulsating delight of her pussy, all exposed now by her own free will. Gone were the inhibitions of an hour and a half ago, he thought blissfully. Virginia had been a hunch as well as an object of his curiosity. He congratulated himself that he'd listened to the inner voice of what he felt was probably his better self, his subconscious. It was obvious to him that all it had taken was the right kind of awakening. Ewing leaned back and grew expansive under his wife's heated love-making. He felt like a king, which was only fitting, considering that his last name was truly Prince and he owned what amounted to a Kingdom. His pleasure knew no limits. At last he seemed to have managed to get the kind of woman he'd always dreamed about. A virtuous beauty, he thought with a wracking sob of something that he recognized as an emotion dangerously close to adoration. But she did appear to him to be perfection, all in one rosy package. Her eyes glowed. Her breasts were swollen even bigger, firmer, than they'd been before. The nipples were a dark pink color and all the little dimples that surrounded the areolas were even darker pink and puckered prettily. When he plopped one in his mouth he closed his eyes and savored the vision her lovely face had presented. Such perfection! he thought as he sucked greedily. Such utter bliss to have a woman who was as eager to fuck as Virginia was when she'd never done it before. Just thinking of the stain of her maiden blood made him hotter and he sucked her nipple harder. His tongue ran round and round as he bit down on it slightly. Not enough to hurt her, he cautioned himself. Just enough to keep that brightly kindled fire in her cunt burning away. And he thought of what a lucky man he was again, and decided after all, leading a good life had been worth it. All good things come to those who wait. The old saw ran for a second through his brain and he nodded in agreement. When he nodded, the tit in his mouth bounced up and down and Virginia panted.
"Fuck me," she said.
"Of course," he answered. And mounted her right away.
She waited, eager and ready, feeling all the juices that had been trapped and held at bay just waiting to burst inside the frantic red hot bubble she felt just inside her vaginal opening.
Nothing happened.
"Now wait a minute," said Virginia in a mildly protesting voice.
Ewing thought he hadn't quite heard her right. After all, he reminded himself, she had said she wanted him to fuck her ... so he thought he'd just misunderstood her when she said to wait a minute.
"What did you say, love?" He ran a tongue in and out of her ear and felt .her shiver.
"Nothing. I just ... " Virginia clamped her mouth tightly shut. She just couldn't bring herself to tell her husband that she hadn't cum the first time and had planned so much on cumming the second that she'd thought she would the minute he socked it to her. She decided to remain silent and concentrate very, very hard. It would soon happen. Nobody, she thought with a burning fever of conviction, could be so passionately aroused and not CUM! To build toward the orgasm the way the few books she'd read on the subject said to go about it.
"But I want to cum!"" Her good intentions couldn't quite make it beyond her screaming need. She stiffened immediately, terrified that Ewing would realize she hadn't cum the first time. The good feeling was still down there in her pussy, she hung onto that fact with all her might. Yes, it was down there roiling around, and her breasts and labia and even her asshole and belly felt brimming over with lust. The words were already out, but Virginia was panting and straining, rocking, pivoting and hunching madly, sure she was going to rip one off immediately.
That was when Ewing Prince made a tragic mistake. It was perfectly natural for him to use endearments when he spoke to his wife, and since she was several years his junior, it was also quite natural for him to call her "Baby Doll." Certainly he had no way of knowing that Virginia's Uncle Jerry had called her "Baby Doll." Not when he'd licked her pussy that unforgettable night and tunneled off into her mouth after she tongued and sucked him off. No, he hadn't called her "Baby Doll" then. But always before ... and always after, Uncle Jerry had called her "Baby Doll." In that split second, that eye-wink of time that it took Virginia to hear and allow the familiar endearment to register, all the heat that had roiled and bubbled inside her quim for so long stopped roiling and bubbling.
In fact, everything stopped.
All Virginia felt was Ewing's prick. It was like having a broom handle rammed up my ass, she thought crossly, inanely. Or maybe more like having an orange plopped in and out of her mouth. Her thoughts started coming in distressed bits and dabbles.
No fun at all.
What a chore.
Awful. Terrible thing, being a female.
Something bad likely to happen if I feel that way anyway.
Wonder why I feel like that? Can't remember.
But I'm MARRIED!
Terrible. To be married. And to have to submit to this kind of inhumane treatment night after...
Make the best of things, I guess.
Virginia started humping. And grinding. And twisting her ass round and round and round. Ewing was making moaning sounds. His breath was hot at her neck. One hand kept squeezing her lifeless breast. Coldly, Virginia wondered where the shimmering goodness went, and why and how it had dissipated so quickly. But she kept humping. She was a fair-minded girl and she'd made a bargain. Although it made her tremble violently to realize it, she knew good and well that Ewing Prince had never said he couldn't get an erection anymore, so it wasn't really his fault that she felt used and abused ... reamed out with no pleasure whatsoever! A bargain was a bargain, she thought tiredly as she accepted his seminal flow with a valiant attempt to pretend pleasure. She remembered that Ewing had all that money, but that was no longer so very important. Wondering at the ways of human beings and women in particular, Virginia decided she was probably losing her mind. In spite of all the horrifying disappointments, she felt sure she was falling in love with Ewing. Really in love!
He panted and pushed his giant cudgel into her to the hilt, then allowed it to rest against home, spewing out jet after jet of seminal fluid into her cold and unfeeling womb. Virginia accepted it with another valiant attempt to make Ewing believe she had cum. Suddenly she simply couldn't bear the idea of hurting his feelings. Of damaging his ego. "Oh, I love you," she wailed. Her voice sounded both anguished and slightly disappointed, but Ewing wasn't aware of the fine nuances in Virginia's voice just then. He was trembling from head to toe and only just barely able to whisper in her ear that he loved her too. Then he went to sleep. On top of her, with his prick turning into a soggy mass of cum-dripping rope that plopped out of her and dripped cum all over the sheet right by her asshole. Virginia accepted the burden of Ewing's practically lifeless body and wished she could reach down there and scratch her asshole. But she didn't want to disturb him.
Tears welled up inside her eyes and ran down the sides of her face as she asked herself how in the world she had happened to fall in love with Ewing Prince. Looking backward, and trying not to notice that her arms were going to sleep, she remembered how he had rushed her off her feet. There had been the office Christmas party and nobody had really expected the owner of Prince & Princess Toys to put in an appearance. He seldom did. And the girls had been insisting and insisting to Virginia that she was only leading half a life. They'd kept after her, she remembered, and tried to get her to go out with Hobart Smith. She realized that she probably would have that night if it hadn't been for the flattering attention of Ewing Prince. And wearing that dress that had been too tight and too short. And drinking that wine that Norma practically forced on her.
She sighed and risked a slight shift in her position. Her heart sang gratefully when she detected no change in Ewing's breathing. Those little prickles in her arms came, but soon went, and she felt almost comfortable now that the cum had stopped dripping from Ewing's prick and her asshole no longer itched.
But when did I start loving him?
She opened her eyes and stared at the smooth ceiling of the hotel bedroom where she'd thought she'd spend her honeymoon in virginal splendor, wondering when she had started loving Ewing.
Maybe when he turned me on? She frowned and decided no, that wasn't it. She'd been fascinated with him. A self-made man who was so nice and common, just like an old shoe ... someone who came to the office party and talked to everyone.'.. nothing high-hat about Ewing Prince, millionaire or not, she thought with a little nod of her nice chin.
When he bought me all those clothes? Spent all that money and behaved just as though he were spending play money? Virginia felt her chest tighten and sincerely hope that the money had nothing to do with it. A nice girl, she said to herself in her old, stern way, would not allow herself to be swayed by money.
Suddenly Virginia knew just what it was that had turned her on, made her love Ewing Prince. It had been, she was positive, his charm. That and the way he had looked at her. With absolute love, understanding and gratitude for just being there! For as long as she could remember, only one other person had made her feel warm with love and understanding. That had been her grandmother, who was now dead. She gasped and wrinkled her forehead, perplexed. She knew it would never do to tell Ewing she loved him because he reminded her of her grandmother, especially when he looked at her with such glowing tenderness shining from his really beautiful eyes!
There were other things she especially liked about him that she felt had contributed to the love she now felt for him. For one thing, he kept himself immaculately clean. Virginia appreciated that. And he didn't lie about his age. Virginia didn't approve of men who said they were younger than they really were. He didn't mind at all admitting that he had children in their twenties. He even had showed her the pictures, and he'd been very, very proud of them.
So many things, she decided drowsily. Yes, there were just so very many things about Ewing that made him sweet and lovable. And if it was to be her lot in life to suffer the minor irritations of a full sexual life, then so be it, she thought with a little self-depracating sigh. She would do it ... and gladly. For the first time in her life she felt very good as well as very 'nice.' After all, she told herself without the slightest skin or seed or pulp of sour grapes, she'd never approved of sex anyway, so it wasn't going to be any big thing to be denied passion. She'd let him do whatever he wanted to do. Men were men, she reminded herself with a slightly thinned upper lip.
Ewing flopped over and muttered something in his sleep.
Virginia sighed. Then she felt something burst into bloom inside her head. "Oh, my God!" she said out loud. She was absolutely mortified at that horrible thing she had seen inside her head all glowing in red neon color. She had seen herself down on her knees, right in front of Hobart Smith. Inside that vision she'd seen him sitting in an office chair, stark naked. And Virginia had Hobart's cock in her mouth.
It was fortunate that her quick gasp of shamed surprise did not awaken Ewing Prince. Because just as she recovered from such a shocking and wicked vision, she looked up and saw the handsome young waiter who had brought their dinner tray. He was smiling at her.
Virginia smiled back. And her naked body blushed rosily as she wondered what kind of a cock that nice young man had, and how he would use it.
Chapter Five
What followed was so shameful, so obscene and incredibly dirty that Virginia knew, even at the time she was doing it, that she would remember it was sick embarrassment all the rest of her life ... that she would sometimes awaken in the middle of the night and look backward and think of that disgusting scene and be conscience-stricken. Even so, she couldn't help it at all. She felt partially hypnotized; yet she felt pretty positive that if she really wanted to, she could stop blindly following that waiter's cock. Once, during the long trek across the deeply carpeted floor of the bedroom, she tried to take her eyes away from the turgid cudgel of the waiter. She couldn't, but at the same time, she thought it was just a momentary happening, that it would soon go away and leave her feeling normal.
She thought OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! How beeeeeeeeeuuuiiuuuuuu-tiful! And then she worried, knowing full well that she was not being loyal and loving to her husband. But then it occurred to her that since he was sleeping, he wouldn't know how she had been stricken senseless by the sight of the young, handsome waiter's prick, but that soon she would come to her senses and speak right out. Tell that young man to put his penis back in his pants and threaten to report him to the management. Yes, she'd tell how it had happened that she had looked up and seen him standing there in the doorway. What's he doing there, anyway? she asked herself sadly as she took step after step forward while the waiter stepped backward. When they reached the little sitting room, both Virginia and the waiter stopped. He got down on one knee and beckoned to her silently, using nothing but his bent index finger to lead her onward to the point where she wanted to sob with frustration. It was then that she realized she was under the waiter's power altogether. In the first place, it was just at that time that she realized his finger, bent slightly at the middle joint, looked exceedingly prick-like. Instead of revolting her, the idea excited her. Then she looked and saw that all of his fingers were shaped like miniature cocks. Her mouth watered and her tongue came out of her partially open lips and she licked them nervously, realizing with a shock that she would like to suck every one of his fingers. She blinked her eyes and the vision of ten miniature pricks melted away and she saw that his fingers were, after all, nothing but plain old fingers, but the idea excited her and she was beginning to feel the pleasantly warm flow of jism down there in her crotch again. Except, of course, she wasn't wearing panties, she realized with a faint stirring of guilt. Was wearing, as a matter of fact, she told herself with fear and shame, nothing! She realized that just as she got to her knees and looked with what amounted to open greed at that nice plump young prick that nestled there ... just as soft and satiny looking as she could imagine anything being on the outside ... but with promise of steely hardness on the inside. Her hand reached out involuntarily and she touched it. At first her touch was in something like wonder tinged with guilt and shame. Then it turned to bliss and her mouth opened wider as she felt the smooth hardness of the prepuce, allowed her fingers to trickle downward toward his balls. Her fingers were extremely sensitive at their tips. Virginia had always known that, but she had never before appreciated the fact as much as she was appreciating it right then. It seemed to her that she could feel each tiny nervous pore of the waiter's prick. Her touch was languorous and loving as she allowed the tips of her fingers to trace the thick and pulsating vein at the back of his penis. It grew even more languorous as she fondled the length of his long and rangy prick, going ever downward until she grasped the wonder of his dark, tightly puckered balls. For a second, she hefted them, and just then the waiter hefted the weight of her breasts. Something went ding-dong inside Virginia's head. She moaned.
"What am I doing kneeling here on the floor like this with you ... a perfect stranger?" Her voice was a strident, choking sound. "I must go. What if my husband wakes up and finds me like this?"
"He's sleeping the sleep of the well-fucked, baby," said the waiter in a laconic voice. "I was watching you. Christ, what a fucker you are. A beautiful little fucker. I never saw anything like that."
"What a horrible thing to do," she said in an indignant voice that didn't at all match the constant pumping motion that she was putting on his cock. "What a downright revolting thing for a person to do!"
"I came after the tray," he said. "Knocked and knocked at the door. But nobody heard me. I thought you and your husband had gone out. Should have known you'd be in the bed fucking. Newlyweds always spend most of their time fucking. He's a hell of a man for his age, your husband."
Virginia lifted her chin in defense of her husband. Her voice was downright waspish as she snapped, "Just because a man is older doesn't necessarily mean he can't function. I'll have you know my husband has lived a good clean life. He was married several times, but that was no fault of his own, I'm sure."
"Sure. Picked the lemon tree every time," said the waiter. His hands were almost absent-mindedly working over her nipples, and she hoped he would never stop. It didn't seem at all incongruous that she should be defending her husband's morals at a time like that. She wanted to tell this brash young man that she really loved her husband, damn it, but she couldn't really force herself to go that far. She was terrified that he would suddenly get to his feet and jerk that beautiful prick right out of her clasping hand. Bending her head down, she saw that a little droplet of shining fluid had escaped the tube and was hovering forever in this world like a diamond, right on the little slit at the end of his cockhead. Without actually thinking about what she was doing, Virginia bent her head down and licked up the shining bit of sticky joy juice. A thrill washed over her body, coursing from her backbone and downward to her lower back muscles and ended with a wild fluttering of her anus. Then it hummed in her vagina, throbbed in her clitoris and went upward, causing her belly to lurch, then shuddered upward to her breasts where it flared brightly and made both nipples harden even more. She gasped. It was a beautiful sensation that set her on fire and made her want to cry out with bliss. It felt almost as though her breasts had suddenly grown extensions that were reacting like small pussies. Her mouth opened in a half moan, half pleading sound and she heard herself cry out, "Oh, fuck me!"
"You think I'm crazy or something, baby? Listen, one thing my old man taught me when I was a kid. Never fuck a woman on her home territory if there's a husband in the picture. I didn't really plan it this way, you know, lady. I was just in there in the bedroom to see if you ... and your husband wanted anything else." The waiter swallowed. Her fingers felt so good to his prick that he was having a hard time keeping a cool head. Perspiration was in a fine mist on his forehead. It seemed to him that never before had he felt such exotic pressure, such lovely push-pulling motions on his ranging prick. Of course, he told himself idly, he always felt that way the minute a woman laid finger, mouth or pussy to his prick, but it was something he couldn't really help. He knew he would have to watch it, though, because he had almost told her the real reason why he had entered the room. Michael Mentor was a college student. He picked up a good portion of his income by taking pictures. Although the rent on the room adjacent to the bridal suite was very expensive, most of the time it was worth Michael's time to pay the rent (through a friend) because of the really fantastic films he was able to get of newlywed couples. The truth of the matter was that Michael had gone into the room next door to the bridal suite and found that his automatic camera setup had gone out of focus. Not only that, the eye of the camera had been faithfully recording nothing more erotic than Virginia's soft little feet as her toes curled and curled eagerly, plus her husband's feet, much bigger and upside down. For a second or two, Michael had paused and considered going ahead with some experimental footage. He'd never noticed how erotic feet were before. But then he got to thinking maybe the scene in front of the eye of the camera would be erotic only to a few. What he wanted was the thing he always shot through the two-way mirror that hung on the wall of the biggest bedroom in the bridal suite. The total fuck scene between bride and groom. He couldn't understand what had happened. He'd checked out the equipment earlier in the day and everything was in proper working order. No matter how many adjustments he made on his camera, however, he couldn't get anything but Virginia's feet and those of her husband. So he had taken a chance and slipped into the bridal suite. He'd been very quiet, of course, but he hadn't been too terribly worried that he'd be caught. After all, Michael had been photographing newlyweds for quite some time. He knew from all his past experience that neither the bride nor the groom were inclined to notice an odd sound in the room where they were deeply entwined in one another's arms.
Actually, Michael Mentor had made several trips back and forth from the bedroom where Virginia and Ewing were making love and the adjoining bedroom. He'd finally managed to undo the damage done by an over-zealous maid who had moved the bed a few inches to the left when she'd cleaned the room. It had taken a lot of courage on Michael's part to move the bed while all that fucking was going on, but he hadn't really sweated it. He'd simply gotten down on his knees and determinedly shoved. It had only taken about three or four inches. Then he knew the bed was back in view and he'd stood up, noting that the husband had started to breathe deeply and the wife was sort of gasping in an unsatisfied way. It hadn't taken Michael any more than a split second to realize that the little bride had somehow failed to get her gun off.
It had been only natural to Michael to get a hard-on. Part of his sometimes hazardous avocation had that natural side-effect. But he'd not intended to do anything about it. Not with Virginia. The only thing that had been on his mind right then when he'd taken his swollen, aching cock out of his pants was to give it a little relief before he covered it with his napkin and pushed the cart down the hall, and to find the linen girl. He knew it was about time to turn down the beds for the evening, and the cute little linen girl would oblige him. She'd done it often, sometimes raising her starched blue maid's uniform and bending over a bed, sometimes actually disrobing and fucking him with wild abandon on a bed. Or a chair. Or the bathroom floor. Once on the toilet, with him sitting on the lid and her astride. Once inside a clothes closet while the woman who rented the room had taken a bath. But that had been the only thing on his mind when he'd looked at Virginia to see if she was going to scream down the law on his head. He'd thought she had heard him making furtive sounds as he had gotten to his feet after moving the bed. It was obvious that she'd not known he was in the room at all, which gave
Michael a certain feeling of relief. But then he'd noticed the hungry look in her eyes and realized she'd not cum. Or if she had cum, he surmised that she'd wanted more than she'd gotten. When he started backing out of the room, it was merely a reflex action. Michael Mentor was understandably wary of husbands who might at any moment get up out of a bed where they had been sleeping deeply and kill him dead. Which was why he answered Virginia in such plain words.
"Take me somewhere, then," she begged. She couldn't take her eyes from his beautiful cock. To her, it was the most marvelously magic thing she had ever seen. And even though it made her feel disloyal, she couldn't help thinking it was even more beautiful than Ewing's.
"Get some clothes on," answered Michael. He knew it was unlikely that anybody would be loitering in the hall, but even though it would be only a matter of a couple of steps to the room next door, he liked things to be safe.
Grabbing up a pale blue shag rug that the hotel housekeeper had used to temporarily cover a stain on the carpet, Virginia wrapped herself in it and gave Michael Mentor an eager smile. He started to object to her use of the shag rug, but changed his mind. He had seen women in heat before and knew they seldom heard anything that didn't pertain to the ease of their tight, hot, clamping little pussies.
It was a small matter, getting Virginia into the luxurious one-room-and-bath next door to the bridal suite, but the fear of Virginia's finding out about his camera equipment was not at all a small matter to the eager waiter/photographer. He made her stand inside the bathroom while he yanked a drapery from the rod and hastily threw it across the tripod, camera and most of the two-way mirror, since the mirrow was nothing but a clear pane of glass on that side. His reasoning was clear, even in the heat of the moment. He knew Virginia wouldn't notice camera, lights, or anything else for a few moments, but afterward was what worried him. He knew good and well that women are prone to recover quickly from a satisfactory session of sex and look around curiously.
She was a mass of trembling desire when he allowed her to get out of the bathroom. It was easy enough to lead her to the bed, but once he got her there, she balked. "I've decided," she said in a voice fuzzy with emotion, "that it wouldn't be nice to let you do it to me."
"Nice?" Michael eyed her in puzzlement. "What the hell do you mean, 'not nice?' What the hell? You wanted to fuck, so we fuck." Expertly, he grabbed her thrusting tits in his hands and massaged them firmly, taking care to tweak the nipples, twisting them just enough to cause her a twinge of pain that soon melted to a driving fury of heat. He knew it wouldn't take much, because she'd been a raging inferno of unsatisfied desire only moments ago. A sob wracked her body as she melted into his arms when he adjusted her on the bed.
"It really isn't nice," she said in a muffled tone just before he kissed her. The kiss was a long, lingering one, during which time Michael moved his hands expertly up and down the smooth length of her body. His fingers dipped into the honey of her snatch and he sighed with satisfaction. It felt all hot and sticky and was fluttering eagerly under his touch. He knew she intended to protest a little more, but he had no doubts at all that she would finally get over having such foolish second thoughts. Not with that twitching twitchet of hers. When the kiss finally broke, she said again, without much conviction, "It really isn't nice, I mean ... with my husband right next door and all."
"Shit, baby, he doesn't know you're here. A man who sleeps like that won't wake up for a long time."
"But if he ever found out..."
Michael smiled at her. "So who's going to tell him?" He looked directly into her eyes. "You going to tell him? Am I? Don't be silly. Now look. Just lie on back down there and enjoy what we're doing."
"Oh, but I ... I'm not really this kind of a girl," she said as her fingers clutched his heavenly prick.
"Of course you aren't," said Michael, not meaning it at all. He grinned a little, thinking about what a long time it had been since he'd heard some broadie protest that she really wasn't that kind of a girl. They just didn't say those things anymore to him. Once they had, but even then it had been nothing but a token; a little gesture of nostalgia like a tip of the hat to the past when women were all hung-up with sexual fears.
"I mean really," said Virginia, who had a Utile insight of her own. She was pretty aware of what was going on inside the strange young man's mind. She couldn't quite cope with the thing at hand. It felt too marvelously alive and delightful each time she touched it. One of her hands was busily pumping up and down on the exquisitely responsive cock and the other one was tenderly moving up and down the smooth length of his flat belly and torso. She shuddered and felt a little sick at her stomach with guilt. It didn't seem to her that it would be as bad if she just allowed him to suck her pussy. In return, she would suck his cock. It was something she had done before with her Uncle Jerry, and even though it wasn't exactly nice, she reminded herself, it wouldn't be as wicked and evil as actually allowing this utter stranger to put his penis inside of her. That part of her belonged to her husband. She nodded her head and opened her mouth, wishing she could relate how she felt to this long, lean young man without coming right out and saying the words.
"You mean really ... " Michael mounted her, but he didn't shove his lurching staff into her pussy right then. Instead, he bent his head down to her breasts and sucked first one, then the other, bringing her to a wild fever pitch of desire that left her moaning and jerking her head back and forth against the pillow. "Now, let's don't have any more of that foolishness, okay?"
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Virginia's guilt and frustration came out in a long wail as she felt the first nudging of his cockhead against her tight little hole. Her body trembled as she hovered on the brink of desire and felt the shuddering guilt consume her. "I can't do it, please, oh, please, I'll do anything else, but not that ... I just can't, please, please, please!"
"Well, sonofabitch!" Michael instantly jerked the two or three inches of bludgeoning cock out of her incredibly tight little hole and stared at her. He'd been almost compelled to shove it right on down to the very balls, but that abject wailing tone of hers, coupled with the downright begging tone of her voice, convinced him. He often told himself he was a rank-assed bastard, but he wasn't a deliberately cruel man. Some of Virginia's abject fear (or whatever it was she felt) got to him and he shrugged. But just because he was a decent sort, he wasn't a fool, either. He was worked up to the point of explosion himself, and after all, as far as he was concerned, he felt the silly bitch had been the instigator of the whole deal. It had not been he, he reminded himself with carefully concealed anger. After all, he was not planning to prong her. He'd innocently gone in there to see why the hell his camera wasn't working properly, and she'd come at him and started drooling over his prick. "Shit, baby, you act like I started to rape you."
"I'm sorry, sorry, sorry," Virginia sobbed. And her hand strayed once again to his prick, unable to keep away from the beautiful, enchanting thing. Again, she wished she could tell him she wanted to suck him. But long years of firmly keeping herself from doing anything that wasn't nice kept her from speaking out. It finally occurred to her that all she really had to do was put her face down there on his cock and let her mouth do what came naturally. Twitching all over, she quickly turned herself around in the bed and put her mouth against the bulging satin-smooth skin of his cockhead. Then she started mouthing it. Using her hand to guide it, she wrapped her lips around the crown and licked the foreskin backward, nudging it with delectable little tugs with her teeth all the while.
It was Michael's turn to moan. "Ahhhhhhhh, sheeeeeeee-it, beautiful, beautiful!" He leaned back against the headboard and relaxed for a moment, giving himself over to the heady delight of Virginia's tongue, teeth, lips and salivary juices. His cock jumped in her mouth, growing longer and more firm. He moaned again and opened his eyes and knew he would forever be glad he had. Because just at eye level, he saw the delectable curve of Virginia's ass, presented to him in all its shining splendor. His hand dipped into the squirming pink softness of her pussy, spreading it just a little. "What a cunt," he murmured. Pearly white moisture was seeping from all the little tightly-furled pink places. A few drops were beaded on the downy auburn-colored pussy hair. Gently, his fingers stroked up and down on the hair-lined lips and he felt her squirm, heard her grunt and felt her take the entire length of his cock inside her mouth. It felt hot and juicy. Like an oven. He wondered why she hadn't come right out and said she wanted to suck him off, but then he shook his head and told himself he ought to know there is absolutely no accounting for the way women are. But it still seemed to him that she could have been reasonable about things, even as it registered on his mind that she obviously wanted a muff job. There was no way to misinterpret the way she was insinuating her ass upward, reaching with it, toward his face.
Michael grinned. He was not averse to a little cunny dipping if that was what they wanted. And certainly she knew what she was about, he thought with a great surge of pleasure, when it came to sucking cock. He could feel the soft, almost cat-like tastebuds on her tongue as she slid it all around his flaming prepuce. She had a vacuum action of her lips that sent fiery sensations of pleasure all up and down the length of his jumping cock. Now and then she took the entire length of his cock into her throat and he could actually feel the wild workings of her gullet as she worked it over with her throat muscles. There was nothing that gave Michael more pleasure than a really professional blow-job, he was thinking as he sent the tip of his tongue into the creamy vestibule of Virginia's pussy. And in spite of the fact that she was obviously a girl who hadn't spent much time with a cock rammed up her cunt, he thought further, because he could tell by the tight, elastic quality of her sheath, she certainly knew how to use her tongue and mouth. Shivering with what amounted to ecstasy, Michael Mentor plunged deeper and deeper into the girl's greedy furnace of a throat. Then, using his thumbs, he parted the thick, swollen lips of her pussy and buried his face in her snatch.
Virginia shuddered. She. kicked her legs and grew instantly alert to the beautiful sensation that was taking place where she wanted it most. The thrill was like an electrical shock, except that it was nothing but deep, deep, penetrating pleasure. She was now alive. Everything in her was melting and merging, surging toward the total release of orgasm that she had fought for so long Now that she was close to it, she knew it, and reveled in it. Her body reacted with what amounted to greed as she felt the thrusts of Michael's tongue. At first they were little stabbing motions that filled the first few inches of her hole with shivery bliss. Then, as she sucked his cock harder, longer, taking in great gulps of air through her nose, she felt the screaming greatness of his tongue as it dipped in deeper and deeper. It flipped in and. out with the precision of a piston. Then it wiggle-waggled all around inside of her and brought a grateful scream from her nose and mouth. It sounded a little strangled, because she had a mouthful of prick all the way down to her tonsils, but she could no more have stopped the grateful sound from crawling out of the walls of her throat than she could have stopped the beating of her heart.
"MMMMMMMMMM.MMMM-NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN-AAAAAAAAAAAAAmmmmmmrammmmm-o o ooooooooohhh ... ohhhhhhhhhhhh ... ooooooooooooommmmmmmmmm!
Her pelvis was humping and bumping. Her heart was thumping. Her buttocks were hot and her anus was twitching greedily. Michael seemed to know, because he flipped in a thumb. It sent a Shockwave to careening around and around, up her backbone, into her navel, then flaring out into a consummating orgasm that ripped and steamed all up inside her vagina until her very womb quivered. The thumb in her anus stabbed viciously and as soon as she was finished with the pulsating wonder of that first great quaking orgasm, Michael began to milk her clit, which brought her to another raging orgasm that was even more totally consuming than the first one had been.
It was pure reflex action that caused her to hang onto his prick with both hands in order to keep her from choking herself to death on it. With all of her entire being, Virginia wanted to swallow his cock, balls and all. Her fingers plunged downward, squeezing his balls in unison to the wild workings of her throat, lips and tongue. Her eyes fluttered and her head spun as she accepted the sudden jet stream of seminal fluid that fountained subtly at first, then with increasing squirts, into the back of her mouth. It felt hot and juicy and so good that she couldn't believe it. Once more her body was treated to a kind of follow-up climax that pitched her backward. Not far enough backward to cause the gigantic cock which was thrust into her mouth to fall out, because she held on with a tight grasp of her mouth. But backward enough to cause her to momentarily rocket off into the never-never land of shimmering cum. To actually believe that all of her previous life had been worth living just for this one glorious moment of living. This time her navel jittered, her clitoris thrummmmmmmmmed, her vagina dilated, contracted, dilated, contracted, dilated and contracted until she wondered if it was going to squeeze the handsome young waiter's tongue off. She felt as though she were cumming everywhere. Lips, breasts, anus, vagina, clitoris, belly button, every lush pore seemed to be fountaining off. Her voice rose to a high crescendo. "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD, OH, GOOD, OHHHHHHHHHHHHH, GOOD!" The scalding semen was running off her lips and onto the sheet, but Virginia was only barely aware of it. Over and over she screamed out her gratification. "OOOOOOOOOOOOH, OHHHHHHHHHH!"
Her thoughts were jumbled, tumbled, tossed on the wind of her erotic exhaustion:
This is it.
This is getting it.
This is the best thing of all.
Except fucking, which I like but-Maybe this better.
Because I can't cum when I fuck....
Except... maybe I could cum with this guy. I wonder what his name is, anyway.
It didn't seem exactly 'nice' to be lying there, utterly, delightfully exhausted, with the ropy, opalescent strings of his recent cumming still plastered to her lips, but she did wonder what his name was. And if she would ever see him again. She certainly hoped so.
"I, I can't cum with my husband-I have to have something! Oh, dear, that isn't 'nice.' I'm just trying to rationalize. I'm just not a nice person. But it isn't fair to be married to a dear, wonderful man like Ewing and have him get me all worked up but not able to cum.. . what'll I ever do? Maybe I ought to see a psychiatrist."
That decision made Virginia feel better. She was aware of the young man who had just reamed out her pussy so wonderfully well with his tongue. He was making getting-up motions. Then, "You have to go?"
"They'll miss me. I really do work here at the hotel, you know."
Virginia settled herself into a tiny little ball on the bed. "Ummmmmm," she said. And wished she could just lie there and enjoy, enjoy. But then she began to worry about what Ewing would think if he happened to awaken and find her gone from the bridal suite. And if he happened to be standing there by the door when she walked in with the blue shag rug draped around her, it would be simply terrible.
She got up and started toward the door, the blue shag rug draped firmly around her. It seemed to her that the sound of the door closing after that nice young man who'd just made her feel so good was still ringing in her ears. Maybe I ought to wait a while, she thought. Because for all she knew, Ewing might that very minute be in the hall, wondering where she'd gone, searching for her. To see that good-looking waiter coming out of the room and then to see his bride ... hesitating, Virginia wondered if she could possibly be losing her mind. Yes, a psychiatrist, she decided. I must see one.
Her hand was on the door knob. It was one of those old-fashioned oval-shaped door knobs. To Virginia's soft palm, it felt very much like the head of that good-looking young waiter's cock. When she opened it, she gasped at the last thought that had been blown through her mind. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she had actually caught herself wondering what kind of a prick a psychiatrist would have ... and if there was any truth in the stories that made the rounds about psychiatrists who want to help rid the sexual hang-ups people have by the unorthodox manner of-Virginia simply couldn't bring herself to think the word. Resolutely, she told her throbbing breasts to stop throbbing and ordered her suddenly tight nipples to behave themselves. She'd just reached three rousing orgasms, and so it wasn't at all necessary for her to get that humming, excited feeling just from thinking about a psychiatrist ... and what his cock might be like.
Chapter Six
Using the most extreme kind of care, Virginia managed to play the part of a reasonably happy bride during the rest of her honeymoon. Her sense of justice and fairness was acute, and the growing love she felt for Ewing contributed greatly to her determination to pretend happiness. Most of the time she was able to convince herself that she really was happy. Her husband was kind, attentive, and they enjoyed a rare relationship of mutual enjoyment as far as the non-sexual relationship was concerned. Virginia found her husband interesting and stimulating as far as the day-to-day act of living with him went. It was obvious to her from the start that he adored her, and she basked in this warmth and understanding gratefully. During the days, they were busy. Although Virginia had never been much of anywhere, Ewing had traveled extensively. She knew he took a great amount of pleasure in showing her the things that he had always loved and appreciated. They went to exotic places and did exotic things. When it was time to go to bed at night Virginia always was hopeful. Maybe tonight, she would say to herself hopefully, it'll happen.
It didn't. And although Virginia tried hard not to, she began to feel used.
By the time they reached the big mansion on the hill where the bride and groom would live permanently, Virginia was growing edgy. She thought perhaps she missed going to work, but although she mentioned the possibility of returning to the office, Ewing was adamant. All of her carefully planned arguments in favor of going back to the office were shot down by Ewing's reasonable attitude. "In the first place, you don't need the money. In the second place, you'd be taking a job from someone who needs it. In the third place, once we start entertaining and you take on the obligations of running the house, you won't have time to even consider going back to the office." He said more and more, and Virginia realized that the subject, as far as Ewing was concerned, was closed. Besides, she was willing to admit to her secret self that even returning to a workaday week wouldn't solve her weird sex problem.
"But I really can't stand it," she cried out to her naked reflection one day when she stepped out of the bathtub. "Here I am, in the flower of my womanhood, and all I've ever known was a taste of the glories of sexual pleasure." As soon as the rather dramatic words were out of her mouth, she blushed a painful scarlet, realizing that she was playing the part of a frustrated heroine. But just realizing it didn't stop the fierce aching of her breasts, the empty mouthing action of her pussy as she walked around in the bathroom and considered the situation. Her eyes settled on several objects that she considered using to gain sexual satisfaction. There was a bar of soap that she might, by whittling it, shape into a reasonable resemblance of a penis. Then there was a phallic-shaped plastic bottle of hand lotion. Although she didn't really like to remember those few times she had masturbated, she couldn't keep the idea from taking shape in her mind. Whimpering, she lifted one foot and placed it on top of the toilet lid. It didn't seem fair to her that she was forced to go around with what amounted to a female hard-on all the time with absolutely no relief in sight. Her fingers probed the silky, juicy outer lips of her vagina and a ripple of heat surged through her naked, bath-fresh body. The middle finger went in and she clutched her bulging clit with the other hand, rubbing it and whimpering and drooling as the sensation of heat grew and grew.
"Oh, God, oh, God, it feels good-good-good," she whispered as she looked down and saw how voluptuously her breasts were swelling, how hard and tight her nipples were. She wished she could manage to put one tit in her mouth. Then she would cum immediately instead of being forced to stand there ramming her finger in and out of her pussy and getting exactly nowhere. For a second, she tried hefting her left breast toward her mouth. By straining, she managed to lick the nipple with her tongue, which increased the needle-like flames of passion that were coursing through her body. Finally she managed to clutch the nipple between her teeth, and yowled like a cat in the night with pleasure. Her hand went back to her clitoris where she rubbed the increasingly throbbing organ. "Yes, yes, yes, this feels good, it's bad, shameful, terrible, wicked, but I have to, I have to, I have to," she murmured around the hard nipple that was finally inside her sucking lips. Another finger began flailing in and out of her cunt as her belly flipped and flopped and her ass pivoted around in wild bliss. She had almost reached the point of a really good cum, she thought, when a knock sounded at the bathroom door.
It was just the maid, who had come to tell her she was wanted on the telephone. "Please get the number," said Virginia. "I'll call back." With her entire body rigid, she listened to the maid's answer, then the sound of her footsteps, retreating back down the hall. Her body felt on fire. But it was an arrested fire, like photographs of a raging inferno in a forest, no longer consuming but portrayed forever on film. Virginia snarled as she tried to again capture the heavenly bliss of the pre-cum. It just wouldn't work.
She pulled her hair and stamped her foot and swore feebly. Then she sobbed and ripped up and down the bathroom, now and then pounding on the walls. She'd never thought there was an enormous amount of truth in the popular pseudo-medical term, 'sexually frustrated.' Now she knew there was a lot of truth in it and she was sorry for all those times she'd blithely thought people who got uptight out of a desire for sexual release should read a good book or eat a box of candy. One more time, she reached down and felt her fiery, trembling pussy. It was bone dry and feverish. She whipped her clit back and forth with her thumb and again inserted the double treat inside her hole. Nothing happened. Squirming, sweating and red in the face with the effort, she managed to reach around and part the cheeks of her buttocks, searching out her little round puckered anus. She sobbed with anger when she plopped in her finger and strained back and forth, humping against the hand in front and all the fingers that were pushed in and the other hand in back. Nothing happened, and she screamed angrily. Her eyes were wide and blank as she stared at herself in the full-length mirror. She could see everything. The hand that was buried to the knuckles in her pussy, the other hand that was in back of her, attempting to bang some relief out of her bung hole. Her breasts were still swollen and the nipples were peaked, but she felt nothing. In her mind blazed a horrid thought: Maybe I'm ruined for life. Maybe something happened to me since I did it with that waiter and I've fixed myself so III never be normal again. The idea was so awful that she wanted to cry. She had a strong suspicion that somehow, she'd managed to dry up all her body juices. She was afraid she would dehydrate. Wither away and die. The idei became even more convincing when she saw that she couldn't even cry real tears! All she could manage was a kind of rasping sob. Quickly, Virginia threw on her robe and dashed into her bedroom. She had a long cord on the telephone, which helped as she called back the person who had called her, because even though she was carrying on what she hoped was a reasonable telephone conversation, she was hurriedly dressing. By the time she had finished making the call, she was dressed, had brushed her luxurious auburn hair and was ready to go out. Where she was going wasn't at all important to her. What mattered was to get out. Out of the house, onto the street, some place where she would be in contact with people. In the back of her mind a subtle plan was taking place, and with the efficiency of a former office worker who had always done her work well, all the details were being worked out. But in Virginia's conscious mind was the merest shred of such a plan. She couldn't allow herself to accept the fact that she was going to go to a bar where she would deliberately set about picking somebody up with the foreordained notion of a good fuck to follow. All she would allow herself to think was that she was going to go into a bar, that she would have a drink and be around people and maybe get her head on straight once more before she went stark, raving crazy.
An hour and a half later, Virginia was in a hotel room with a man named Tom Frazier. She was also on the outside of four drinks. Vaguely, she knew her courage was born of the bottle as well as her physical needs, but at that point, Virginia just didn't care. Speaking in a slightly thick voice and a fumbling tongue, she told Tom Frazier that she wasn't that kind of a girl.
"Sure, baby," he said as he took her into his arms, then walked her backward toward the bed.
"I'm not. Really," she said as she felt his hands on her breasts. Felt one slip down and pull her blouse out of her skirt. Felt the pin-prickling of her skin as his hand made contact with bare body. She thrilled and bucked forward, humping against Tom's hard groin with her pelvis. But just the same, she kept protesting, dazed with the unaccustomed drinking but definite about getting her point across. "I'm a happily married woman. It's just that my husband can't make me cum."
"Sure, baby," said Tom as he forced her backward on the bed. Her legs parted under the pressure of his insistent hand and he grinned. His mouth came down hard on hers and his right hand squeezed her naked breast where it had forced its way between their bodies. Virginia liked it. She loved it. The hot yearning began to envelop- her. A gasp came out of her throat when she felt the barest feather-light touch of his fingers against her swollen, sensitive clitoris. She struggled to get her mouth away from his lips, and managed to squeeze out another warning about her morals.
"I've always been a nice girl."
"Sure, baby," said Tom brilliantly. And squeezed her nipple hard. And at the same time thrust in a long middle finger and stroked gently in and out of her gobbling hole.
"It's not his fault. He knows how," said Virginia brokenly. "I want you to understand that. It's me that's at fault. But you mustn't touch my ... my vagina."
"Sure, baby," said Tom, who at that time had two fingers sliding in and out of the goo.
"With your ... ah, penis," Virginia added firmly. "I mean, that's for my husband. Anything else is all right."
"You mean I can't shove my prick in your cunt, baby?" Tom's voice was alarmed. Almost disbelieving. Virginia paused for a second and tried to gain control of her nervously greedy body. She was suddenly taken with the fact that she hadn't heard Tom say anything at all to her other than, "Sure, baby," until just that moment. She did wish he wouldn't speak so vulgarly, too, but she decided not to mention anything about it.
"Your finger's okay," she said, panting.
He took his hand from her breast and settled his weight on top of her. Then he did something with his chest that set her wild. He rolled his shoulders forward and then backward, then side to side, grinding against her sensitive nipples in such a way that left her shrieking with desire. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out but a rapid succession of hungry-sounding grunts.
"You like that, baby?" Tom grinned down at her. He had inserted a finger in her anus, had one working in and out of her hole and a thumb was going round and round in the sticky jism that was spewing out of her clitoris.
"Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh," said Virginia as she nodded her head up and down like a puppet on a string. "More, more, more, more, more."
"Yeah, baby."
Suddenly, Tom sprang upward, away from her. "I like it naked, baby," he said without much emotion. "Let's shed outa these rags."
"Rags?" Virginia could do nothing but lie there on the bed with her blouse all up around her neck, her bra crooked and useless just above her breasts and her skirt a tangled rope around her waist. Her nice little white panties were ripped at the crotch. Dimly, she wondered when that had happened. She'd not been in the least aware of it.
"Yeah, clothes," said Tom. He took both her hands and pulled her to her feet and proceeded to yank her clothes away piece by piece. All Virginia could do was stand there, trembling and aware, very aware of the dripping joy juice that was running down her inner thigh. She wondered whatever in this world this strange man really thought of her and tried once more to tell him that she was simply not that kind of a girl. It annoyed her a trifle to hear his monotonous reply. "Yeah, baby."
"But I'm not a bad girl," she squawked. "I really want you to know this."
Tom merely sighed, then stripped quickly out of his own clothes. Then he shoved her back on the bed. "Now, let's cut out all this hopeless horseshit and fuck."
"Not in the vagina," she said breathlessly.
"Bullshit! My cock would ream hell out of your ass and I don't like sucking pussy. A fuck is a fuck, baby." It was obvious, even to the frantic, girl on the bed, that Tom had finished with fooling around.
"But my-" she tried to say 'cunt', but couldn't manage. It seemed too utterly obscene to her. After a second's hesitation, she said, 'pussy,' and felt awful.
"Your pussy, baby? What about your fuck-hole?" She noticed that Tom had eyebrows like the devil himself. They went straight up in a peak toward his temples.
"It's sacred," she squawked.
"Sure, baby," said Tom eloquently. And climbed on her, pulling her rounded little ass halfway off the bed. Virginia had the distinct impression that he was doing it so he could really get at it. He held her hips in a vise-like clutch and pressed his lips together in something like a grimace. "Tight, oh shit; it is tight!" Sweat popped out on his forehead and his eyes looked downright anguished as he continued to push and sweat. She could feel the massive hardness against her shrinking quim and cried out in pain. Now that it was too late, she wished to heavens she had asked him how big his cock was before she came to the hotel room. Or at least taken a look at it as he undressed. She'd been just too shy, though, she thought sadly as she wondered if she would be all ripped. The idea frightened her half to death. She closed her eyes and winced, gasped and cried out sharply as she felt the enormous cockhead coming relentlessly on. In back of her mind was the terrifying thought of what Ewing would think when he found her pussy all shredded to bits and big enough to accommodate a telephone pole.
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Her cry split the silence of the room that had been, until then, disturbed only by the almost inaudible sound of Tom's strained breathing.
"Shut the fuck up," he said carelessly. "You got to be one of them screamers, scream quiet-like, okay, baby?"
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh! It hurts! Feels so good! Stop! Don't stop! You're killing me! Ohhhhhlmhhhhh!" She couldn't keep from crying out, first in pain, then in consuming pleasure. It felt a little odd to be doing it like that, with her entire ass lifted off the bed and supported only by Tom's hands. She had an idea that it made his enormous cock feel a lot bigger, a lot fatter, and then she stopped worrying about such insignificant things. He was pushing her backward, as if he intended to hammer her right into the bed with his massive cock. Then he held her ass firmly against the bed while he pulled it out almost all the way. She opened her eyes for a moment and noticed that he no longer looked as though he were in pain. And oddly enough, neither was she. She thrust herself upward, pulling the entire straining length of him back into her hungry pussy. Then he pushed her ass back down on the bed and told her to hold still. "I want to do the fucking this time. You just hold your ass still."
She was helpless to move under his powerful strength, even though it was automatic for her body to want to thrust upward. He was pile driving into her, but not fast. It was slow and easy, and each time he sunk his shaft into her all the way he added an extra little fillip of erotica by pivoting his pelvis. She felt consumed by cock. Pierced by it, like a pig on a spit. "WOOOOOOOOOOOOW! Love it, love it, love it," she screamed as she finally quit trying to push up and down. She was doing nothing but lying there and taking it.
This is it, she thought with pleasure.
This is really it.
Fucking. Fucking, fucking, fucking, FUCKING. This is what they mean when they say you get really FUCKED. "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" She could feel the hot boiling juices of her entire life bubbling upward, boiling outward. Each time he drove his massive cock deeply into her she felt herself cumming just a little bit. But she didn't mind at all, because she knew she was in for a big one, a really consuming one, and now that her pussy had recovered from the shock of being stuffed to the point of ripping with his cock, she liked the size of it just as she liked lying there and doing nothing but getting fucked.
"Yeah, baby," Tom was saying. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, baby! Now! Wiggle your ass. COME ON! Wiggle your fucking ass! Fuck me baby, baby!"
At first Virginia wasn't sure she could, she was so hot and so weak. But when she finally started thrusting upward, she screamed with the ecstasy of her first totally vaginal cumming. "CUMMMMMMMMMMMMM-0 H - C U M M M M M M M M M M I NG ! I'M CUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMING!"
Her pussy was still throbbing with delight and she was trembling with the afterglow when she felt Tom's strong hands lift her upward and settle her on the bed.
The next thing she knew, she was being kissed and caressed, and since she was in possession of mental facilities, she thought she had drifted off into satisfied sleep. There was a singing inside her body that she'd never known before. She felt good all over. Luxuriously, she stretched, became aware of an insistent hand that was pulling her nipple out as far as it would go and an equally insistent mouth that was sucking, sucking, on her other breast. Fingers were working in and out of her pussy, now and then pausing to make milking motions against her clit. She smiled and murmured something softly. She was thinking that Tom was maybe illiterate, but he certainly knew how to make love. She'd never felt so wonderful in her life. Just before she opened her eyes she felt something warm and soft and sweet on her lips. It was confusing, because she would have sworn Tom had his lips on her breast. Then a tongue inserted itself between her lips and at that same time a set of teeth nibbled at her nipple and the ' confusion grew and grew. She wondered how in this world Tom could make her feel like he was sucking her breast and kissing her lips at the same time!
Her eyes flew open. Just as she opened her eyes a mane of very blond hair moved away from her face. "What-what-what?" Virginia took both her hands and pushed against the chest that was just over her neck and collar bones. Tom has dark hair, she thought crazily. So where does this blond guy come in? And WHEN had he come in? And whatever in this world ami going to do with two of them?
Chapter Seven
"Who? Who? Who?" Virginia's eyes rolled from one face to the other. Tom had taken his lips from her breast and was sitting on the bed on her left side. The blond, who was much younger than Tom, more aesthetic looking, was on her right. He grinned at her. In a soft voice, he said, "You sound like an owl."
"What ... what?" Virginia batted her eyes and struggled to a sitting position. "What's going on?"
"When we left the bar, I told Justin here to come on up to the room, but I wanted first divvy, all by myself," said Tom with a lazy stretch.
Virginia was angry. Drawing her naked body up in a hard little knot of defiance, she jerked herself off the bed. "Well, if you think for one minute that I ... "
"Lie on down there, baby, we like sandwiches," said the one Tom had told her was Justin. "My prick'll just fit in your ass."
Horrified, Virginia was unable to do anything but bleat ineffectually. She tried to say that she had never done anything like that, it wasn't nice, people weren't supposed to do those things, and besides, she wasn't built for that sort of thing. Her words came out in a kind of frightened jumble that was more nonsense-than anything else, and anyway, neither Tom nor Justin paid any attention. She heard Justin laugh pleasantly and say, "Sugar, don't be so uptight! It isn't any big thing, you know. I've been an ass-fucker from way back. Nature wasn't as kind to me as she was to a lot of these studs that have to go around with a wheelbarrow to carry their pricks in. Mine fits asses beautifully." Virginia thought she was surely hearing him wrong. She wondered how he could talk about such a thing in that kind of perfectly normal voice. Then she began to wonder if she was really and truly experiencing what she thought she was. She looked toward the wall and made a mental note of the wallpaper, trying to identify the strange conversation and the equally strange and terrifying predicament she found herself in with some shred of reality. Yes, she thought with a sad nod of her head, the wallpaper's certainly there, all right. And she supposed she had brought the situation on herself. After all, she'd always known that nice ladies don't go into bars all alone ... and after she probed around in her brain and asked herself to be truthful with her own secret self, she really did realize that she'd planned to pick up a man all along. But not two of them, she protested mentally as she watched the blond take down his pants.
Her eyes widened as she saw the size of his cock. It wasn't terribly big, but she was sure it would never fit in her anus. And even though it wasn't enormous, it was shaped beautifully and quite hard. She drew a shaky breath and decided to count her blessings. Since the new young man wasn't circumcised, she thought maybe it wouldn't hurt so much when she felt it pushing and straining its way into her tight little ass. If it had been circumcised, the knob at the end would be much fatter, she told herself seriously, so she really should be grateful for that particular detail.
"No," she said as she felt Tom lift her up and turn her over. "No! You can't do it to me like that. I won't have it."
"She says she won't have it," said Justin with another one of his pleasant laughs. "You hear her, Tom? She says she won't have it. Isn't that a riot?" His voice was so smooth and gentle, Virginia found it impossible to believe he would really use her in such a cruel and unnatural way. She struggled, kicking and fighting with her hands, and she bit down on Tom's hand when he tried to pull her face down to his where it looked up from the pillow at her so he could kiss it.
"Stop that, you little bitch," said Tom without much emotion. Then he slapped her. It wasn't a stunning blow, but it brought the tears to Virginia's eyes. She saw him through a sudden blur of tears, hot and stinging, all distorted. He was smiling up at her and she saw his dark eyes, his mouth, his dark hair through her tears. It appeared wavy. like a drawing of an underwater scene. "Come on, baby," he said in a coaxing tone of pure reasonableness. "You know damned well you like a good fuck. Christ. You almost fucked me to death that first round. If you've never had a prick in the asshole and one in the cunt, you're in for a pleasant surprise. You'll really groove on it, baby, once you get hanging in there."
Her breasts were hanging down like ripe fruit.
Cantaloupe, she thought all in a rush, creamy cantaloupe. Nice and firm and somehow bigger from the position of looking down on them like that. Her nipples added to the fruit-like theme. She imagined that they looked like ripe red strawberries, juicy with the gush of life in them.
"Ummmmm," said Tom as he latched onto the left one.
A thrill shot through Virginia's loins, Causing her to shudder sensually. The hot wetness of his mouth on her breast was extremely arousing to her in spite of her fears of a moment ago. Her legs were astraddle Tom's slender hips. She watched the way his mouth hungrily pulled away at her nipple and tried to control the urge to slide down his enormous pole of a cock. Her vagina was clamping madly and her hips were swaying from side to side. For a moment, she forgot all about the threat of the other, younger man.
"Uhhlihhhrihhhhh!" She couldn't help it. A flame of heavenly fire shot upward from her pussy to her tits, causing her to give way to the ecstasy promised in Tom's satisfying cock. She positioned her pussy on the crown and felt the zooming sensation of her sexlips as they fluttered all around the hard knob, then frantically started sucking it in. Tom smiled around her nipple. She slid down and he pushed up. She shivered and slid all the way down at the same time that he plunged into her all the way up. For a moment she rested with his cock shoved into her to the hilt, reveling in the heavy, strained, stretched way her full pussy felt. Then she began to take long up and down strokes. Tom's cock slid in and out of her with ease. Her mind became punctured with a return of an earlier fear. What if my pussy's all stretched out of shape permanently? But the fleeting fear didn't last long enough to stop the age-old rhythm of her body, which was completely out of her control. Something went squish-squish-squish way up inside of her. She thought the tip of Tom's prick was surely shoving and banging at her very womb. The idea excited her so much that she started banging up and down, up and down, fast, furiously and hard. Tom reached for her shoulders and told her to ease off.
"Slow down, baby. Nice and easy. Eeas ... eeeeeeeeee, Jesus, can you ever fuck!"
"Uhhhhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhhhh, eeeeeeeeeeeeee, yowwwwwwwwwwwwww!" said Virginia as she went back to the first rhythm, the slow, rolling, push-pull, in-out delight that she'd first started. Her face was a mask of pure lust. Her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth and droplets of saliva dribbled on her chin. They fell down onto Tom's face when he removed his questing mouth from her tit and began to milk both of them with his fingers.
"Love it, love it, loooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOVE it," she yelled.
But then she stiffened, all flashing, roiling, darting sexual sensation momentarily frozen in the fear of being hurt. Even though she had momentarily forgotten the threat of the man called Justin's cock that was going to get rammed into her anus, she remembered it at first contact of the other man's body against the back of her legs. She ground her teeth together and screamed, the delicious shudders of erotica suddenly replaced by shivers of terror.
And here I am, she thought ruefully. Pinned with Tom's prick, my tits imprisoned in his fingers, unable to move one way or another except to fuck! The- idea of realizing she was actually thinking in four-letter words shocked her further, but that passed in a shudder of pain. Justin's cock was hard and insistent. It was beating a tattoo against the tight little rubbery sphincter ring of her anus. She squawked out another protest, and something red bloomed in her mind. It was like a picture, forever stamped inside her head, she thought:
Me. Virginia Ayers. Well, not Virginia Ayers any more. Virginia Prince. With my legs wide apart, my cunt stuffed full of peter, my tits held in the grip of Tom s hands. My backbone is rigid as I hold my breath and await what I know will be excruciating pain that I cannot, no, cannot escape from. Oh, why oh why did I ever let myself get in this terrible situation? Why didn 't I just lock myself in the privacy of the bedroom and fuck myself? Ill surely be ripped wide open. Maybe die on the spot and somebody will find my broken, bruised and bleeding body and they 11 put it in the newspapers. WIFE OF TOY TYCOON FOUND DEAD AFTER ORGY.
"But I love my husband, I honestly do," she screamed.
"Sure, baby."
"Think of the disgrace!" Her eyes were bright with fear.
"Shut up, baby," said Tom. "Go on, Justin. Slip it to her. She wants it. This is just some game she's playing."
"No I don't," Virginia contradicted. Her words ended in a gasp of abject horror, but they quickly turned to a pleased sound of surprise. "Why, it feels just like a finger. Good. Ohhhhhhh, good!" She had kept her eyes tightly closed when she'd first felt the blunt, heavy cockhead pressing against her anus, perhaps to help her through the awful pain. They opened in surprise and she squealed, repeating breathlessly that it felt just like a finger.
"It is a finger," said Justin's laconic voice. "Got to grease you up a little first. Too tight. Would skin my prick as tight as it is. Never saw a tighter one in my life."
Virginia remained motionless where she was, her pussy ground tightly against Tom's pubic hair. She could feel his balls down there somewhere just under her anus and wondered what would happen to them when Justin shoved his actual cock in.
"Hump up, Virginia," said Justin. "I can't get to it with you scunched down all the way on old Tom's prick."
Virginia remained where she was, quite unable to obey. She was frozen, suspended in a fear that was icy cold, yet melting. Like sherbet left too long in a warm room.
"Hunch up, goddamn it," said Justin. "I got to put in another finger and wiggle it around in there. Come on, now, or else I'll just ram the old prick home without any preliminaries."
"Ohhhhhhh," cried Virginia. And quickly adjusted her rear end so her anus would accommodate two of Justin's fingers. She felt them come squirming in like two big fat worms. To her amazement there was no pain at all, even though she'd thought sure the little rubbery ring that was so puckered and tiny would protest, then rip open. , "Sonofagun," said Justin conversationally, "you could take a fucking dinner plate in there without no trouble."
"No, oh, no, I couldn't ... " Instantly, Virginia tightened up, squeezing Justin's two fingers tightly.
"Ah, shit, baby, haven't you got any sense of humor? Relax, will you? I was just kidding. What fun would there be for me in putting a dinner plate in your ass?"
"Relax?" Virginia's voice was tinny, a puppet-like echo of what Justin had said.
"Yes. Relax. Breathe through your mouth."
"Balls," Tom muttered savagely. "All this fucking instruction leaves me cold. I'm getting tired of waiting. I don't want to listen to you tell Virginia how to do it, just shove your prick on in there and let 'er rip."
Virginia broke out in a cold sweat of fear and again felt her muscles tighten.
"Ahhhh. Christ, baby, that feels good," said Tom. "It like makes your cunt snap. You got a real snapper when you squeeze it in like that. Do it again."
"Don't tell her to squeeze it in, forchrissake, I can't get my prick in when she does that." In back of her Virginia felt Justin's cock pressing up tight against her anus as he spoke in a grating voice. The pressure was terrific and he kept telling her, over and over, to relax ... while Tom kept telling her to go ahead and do what came naturally, which was, of course, to tense and squeeze her muscles together. She thought it was only too natural for her body to try to protect itself ... after all, didn't she bat her eyes when an object came flying through the air close to her face? Wasn't it reflex action to put a hand up to her face to protect it when someone threw something toward her? She felt pulled apart, even though they were only doing it to her verbally.
"Relax," said Justin. "Just relaaaaaaa-x!"
"Forget him," said Tom. "Just fuck. Just let yourself go, baby, and fuuuuuuuuuuck!"
"Relax."
"No, fuck."
Suddenly an awesome, ripping sensation, something like ice, something like fire, took possession of Virginia's anus. It felt enormous. "Pleeeeeeeeease!" Her voice was a ragged scream. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee-zeeeeeeeeeeee!"
Something broke loose. She screamed louder. Grunted. Started to crawl forward, but didn't get very far. She was pierced by two pricks now. Felt like a stuck pig on a spit even more than she had before. Groaned. Shivered, sobbed, made choking sounds as she wondered if she would live through it, hoped so, felt another tearing sensation, then suddenly knew the entire length of the younger man's cock was rammed all the way up inside her rectum.
"Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh," she said as she tried to gear herself for what she was afraid would be an even worse hurt. Half sobbing, she felt the length of Justin's cock pulling out of her. It didn't hurt much, she thought with surprise. Not nearly as much as she had thought it would. Then she wondered if she'd gone all numb. Because Justin swore mightily and grasped her waist with both hands. Once again she felt the hardness of his cock where it was pushed up tight against her anus. His voice was a snarl when he spoke:
"Don't flip it out like that again, baby, now goddamn it, I'm going to rim you good, so you might as well learn to lay still and take it. If you do it with any kind of halfway grace, youll even like it. See, what you've got to do is get the swing. When Tom is fucking up, reaching all the way into your little womb with his cock, I'll be on the outswing. Kind of like dancing. Me in on the downswing, him out on the upswing."
"See-saw, margery daw," said Virginia mindlessly. Her voice was coming in choked gasps.
"Yeah, yeah, that's it," said Justin, pleased.
Virginia decided, just as she had decided a long time ago when her Uncle Jerry had licked her pussy and she had licked, then sucked, his cock, that the best thing for her to do under the circumstances was try to get it over with as quickly as possible. She closed her eyes and humped her bottom upward, trying to relax and keep from screaming out in pain when the long, rangy cock of Justin came pushing headlong into her rectum. In all fairness, she told herself during one lucid moment, she must admit that on the downbeat she enjoyed the magnificent feeling of being stuffed with cock in her cunt.
"Yes, yes," she said. Then, "YES, YES." Then, "YEEEEEEEEEE-OHHHHHHHHH!"
I love it, she thought, acutely aware of pleasure where she had thought only pain would be. She was even rather proud of herself for catching on so quickly. Her entire body was suddenly turned into what she could only think of as a fucking machine. Inside Tom's hands, her breasts were swollen and voluptuous, the nipples so hard and tight that they were like little bricks. Her belly swelled outward every time Tom's giant cock filled her channel. Then there was a little space of time when she felt the outward sliding greatness of Justin's cock, always drawn out on the back stroke almost to the knob, then thrust inward again. And once again her belly would swell, poking out, actually tenting out where everything was shoved aside to accommodate the rimming she was getting.
"That's it, honey babe," breathed Justin. His breath was hot and moist against her backbone. His lips kissed, sucked, then his teeth nibbled. Virginia liked that. She wanted to let him know she liked that, but she couldn't, because just then she felt what she was pretty sure was Justin's hand. It was reaching around in front of her, circling against her belly and pressing inward at the same time it tented outward. Then it stroked downward until it grasped the dripping, swollen, marble-hard clitoris and began working it over.
"I can't take it," she cried. "Too good. OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!" Her buttocks swiveled around in the air and her hungry little anus grasped, milked, sucked and pulled Justin's cock deeper and deeper. Even if it killed her, Virginia thought, she didn't care. Because this was what she was made for. At last, she told herself, she knew why she'd been born. To get fucked. That was what for. And she was suddenly terribly sorry about all those wasted years when she hadn't fucked, hadn't even played with herself ... had never even known that people fucked double. She opened her mouth and wailed, aware of every muscle, nerve, pore, gland and drop of blood that was laboring toward the final burst of life/death, pleasure/pain, agony/ecstasy, hate/love, conquering/vanquished... the everything of life itself.
It went on and on and on. The rippling waves of her gush rose and fell, rolling into one heady climax after the other. Through them all she screamed, bucked, humped and swiveled, shaking her shoulders, lolling her tongue and jerking her head from side to side, "Cummmmmmmmmm-mmmingggggggggggg!"
At last she was barely able to do more than whisper the word, feebly.
The roiling jet stream of a double cum exploded inside her almost at the same instant. It startled Virginia, but she hung right in there, still hunching and hoping for one more cum. It happened, but it was not strong and consuming the way the last ones had been. She was faint and weak with having been both the victim and the victimizer. When she felt the stringy rope of Justin's cock pulling out of her anus she squelched the temptation to laugh. She thought, He thought he used me-hahl I could still go another one or two or three. And when she flipped her body upward and away from the flaccid, abused-looking cock of Tom, she felt the same way. There was an almost tenderness to the feeling she had in that one little instant for the two men who had taken her all so unwillingly when she realized that she had taken everything the both of them had to offer and would still be able to take more if only they could give it to her.
Just the same, a vestige of the old Virginia came to the fore the minute the men were all the way out of her. She turned her back, cowering in the bed with her face to the wall. "Oh, dear, I always tried to be a nice girl. I really did."
Neither man answered her. Justin had fallen into a heavy sleep and Tom had gone into the bathroom. He left as soon as he was dressed, without even attempting to kiss Virginia good-bye. Slowly, using care not to make any noise that would awaken Justin, Virginia used the bathroom, took a long bath and dressed, making sure every hair on her head was in place and every drop of cosmetics had been applied in her usual way. In her mind was a very real worry:
Suppose Ewing somehow learns about what I've been up to? What if he has some way of looking into my eyes and knowing I've been unfaithful? Oh, dear. What'11 I do? Because it would break my heart. I love him so.
She answered herself, looking levelly into the mirror, and taking care to speak in silence: It wasn't the first time you were unfaithful, Virginia. You know that. Don't forget that waiter.
Yeah, but I didn't even know his name, she justified. Besides, it just happened. By itself I didn 't go out and look for him. . . and there was only one of him.
She couldn't quite meet her own eyes in the mirror. She was afraid they would no longer be the 'nice' eyes of a
"nice' young woman. But when she stood up, she felt a warmth in the vicinity of her pussy and stretched, yawned, averted her eyes prudishly from the naked, sleeping Justin, and decided perhaps fate had a way of working things out for people after all.
Because, she thought with a shy smile as she tripped out of the hotel room, she was just sure ... absolutely sure ... that she would not only fuck her husband that night, she would cum.
Chapter Eight
Ewing Prince had been worrying about his young wife for quite some time. He had long ago lost count of how many women he had laid, and he seldom looked backward in an attempt to either capture the past or wish he'd done things differently. However, Ewing Prince had not made himself into a man worth millions without taking advantage of every bit of knowledge that came his way. All the women he had bedded had given him a certain advantage over men who tended to keep to the straight and narrow as far as their sex life was concerned. From the very beginning, Ewing had known deep within himself that Virginia was trying to pretend orgasms that had not occurred. He was a kind and patient man, and he was genuinely in love with her. He was also aware of her state of virginity, which he privately thought was a sin and a shame. He had no idea why she had kept her pretty little pussy all to herself like that, but for whatever reason, he knew that very often women who go around turning off their emotions for a considerable length of time have a hard time learning how to turn them on. By the same token, he knew very well that many women don't cum the first few times they fuck. He knew he was a master at the art of making love. He'd made up his mind to wait, believing that it would be best to let nature take her course" with Virginia instead of immediately getting her all riled up in the belief that she wasn't normal. With love, consideration and a hard prick that could slide in and out of a nice, clean cunt for several minutes, Ewing felt most women would get over most problems. He would have waited much longer than he did if he hadn't seen signs of Virginia getting emotionally upset over her inability to cum. Of course he had no idea that she was screwing around on the side in what she considered was a frantic attempt to awaken her sleeping pussy. Nor did he know that she'd not only awakened it, she'd turned it on and might not be able to turn it off as far as other men were concerned. However, his insight was keen, and his sensitiveness was much more acute than most women would have given him credit for having. He was pretty sure he detected a gleam of guilt in Virginia's customarily guileless eyes that night after Virginia had been sandwiched. There was also a distracting nervous twitch to her mouth. And her hands shook.
As it happened, Ewing Prince was at home when Virginia returned, which is why he also made a mental note of her activities as soon as she came home. He was in the upstairs library, which was at the end of the hall from their adjoining bedrooms, when he heard her come running up the long, graceful stairway. He came out and greeted her, noticing that she presented him with her cheek instead of her warm lips as was her custom. That was his first clue.
His second clue was in the simple matter of being aware.
Just as most men are aware of what it sounds like when a woman brushes her teeth, Ewing Prince was aware of what it sounds like when a woman is taking a douche.
First, Virginia brushed her teeth. He could hear the scrubbing of brush against her firm white teeth, the running of the water, the light 'clunk' when she replaced toothbrush to holder, the heavier 'clunk' when she replaced the tube of toothpaste, heard her delicate spitting sound, then a final heavy flow of water into the washbowl as she rinsed the basin. He frowned. Knowing women as well as he did, Ewing Prince knew they only brush their teeth in the middle of the afternoon for a very few reasons. One was fastidiousness. Virginia was exceptionally clean, but she didn't eat onions or garlic, therefore she wouldn't have brushed her teeth in order to get rid of an offensive breath. He also didn't think she would worry about upsetting him if she came home with the odor of alcohol on her breath, because he'd let her know he wouldn't mind if she went out and had a few drinks with the girls. So that wasn't it. There was a possibility that she had been to a dentist ... that she could have wanted to brush away some foul-tasting gunk that had been applied by a dentist. But Ewing knew Virginia had gone to a dentist who had made her feel on top of the world by saying she needed nothing done to her teeth. That had happened just two weeks ago, and Ewing knew his wife had been terribly relieved after the visit. That left the disturbing possibility of other reasons right out there in the open under the glaring light of Ewing's reason. Had she, he wondered, sucked somebody's cock and was afraid he would taste it on her mouth if she didn't brush away the spermy scent? He frowned, considering. It didn't seem likely that the Virginia he knew would do such a thing-but then, Ewing was willing to concede that women are capable of all kinds of peculiar behavior just as they are capable of hiding it.
Ewing drummed his long fingers against the shining desk top and sniffed the mint-scented air as he continued to listen to the sounds that came from the bathroom. He decided that if Virginia took a douche he would know she'd been out fucking around on him.
For a few moments, no sound at all came from the bathroom. The toilet was the last word in modern plumbing, and built so that the person using it was never embarrassed by tell-tale sounds. Ewing himself felt perfectly at "ease in a bathroom when a woman was using a toilet, but he respected the fact that Virginia closed and locked the door when she entered a bathroom. He had never told her he had caused the bathrooms in the house to be equipped with soundless toilets because of the ridiculous prudery of many women and some men when it came to natural body functions for the same reason that he never spoke to Virginia (or any of his other wives and mistresses and casual affairs) of how other women behaved in bed. Ewing was a respecter of persons, both men and women. If a man wanted to suck another man's cock, it was perfectly all right with Ewing. He didn't care to even consider it himself, but the fact that someone else might want to make love to another man instead of a woman didn't bother him. He was aware of the fact that some men might haul coal in their mouths, he was fond of saying, but he didn't put anything in his except excellent food, an occasional cigar, a good after-dinner brandy and sweet nectar of pussy. If a woman wanted to get drunk and fall" down on the public sidewalk, it offended him, just as it offended him to see a man exposing himself in public or heaving up on the street after too much to drink. He knew women were usually offended when men talked about other women, both because it made them feel as though they were being compared with someone else and because they were understandably afraid that if a man talked about one, he would talk about them all. So Ewing didn't talk. He listened, respected when respect was due and wrote people off when he felt there was nothing meaningful in the relationship for either of them.
He listened then to the unmistakable sound of Virginia, in the process of opening the vanity drawer and taking out her douche bag. He heard the rush of water going into the rubber .mouth, then the tiny clinking sound when the clamp on the end of the rubber hose brushed against the porcelain of the washbowl. Then he heard a lid being taken from a bottle and three distinct 'glug-glug-glugs' as her Hquid douche solution was poured in.
"Uh-huh." Ewing Prince nodded his head and stopped drumming his fingers against the desk top. He heard nothing more except the padding sounds of her footsteps, knowing she was going to sit on the toilet and insert the nozzle, flushing out whatever was in there.
Because he was kind and considerate in most things, Ewing Prince was not in the bedroom when Virginia came out of the bathroom. She wondered if he had been there, and it worried her when she thought about doing what she'd done in the middle of the afternoon. Her teeth had felt funny. She'd been upset about the horror of a venereal disease, conscious that it can be caught by mouth as well as other places. Both of the men she'd been with had looked clean, she reminded herself as she touched her hand to her hair and stared at her reflection in the mirror. But then, she was sure many clean-looking syphilitic people were roaming around the world. She doubted if the antiseptic douche would do anything about germs of that nature, but at least she felt cleaner, which was important.
After a while she began to fidget. It occurred to her that she'd not worried about picking up a disease from the waiter, but of course she'd been so upset with feelings of guilt and anxiety afterward she hadn't thought about anything except little reasons that had to do with why she'd allowed herself to get carried away with a stranger. When the idea of having been exposed to a disease did come floating into her mind, she'd hastily come to the conclusion that she was in no danger there because the waiter must have had a food handler's card. Her eyes continued to waver when she tried to look at her reflection, because the worry was there, in the back of her mind, that she'd been AWFUL. Certainly not 'nice.' And she'd taken a sickening chance that she wished she'd thought about before the fact instead of after it. She couldn't get the blaring question to stop repeating itself inside her head. IF EWING FINDS OUT WHAT I'VE DONE-OH, MY GOD, IF I GIVE HIM A DISEASE, WHATLLHEDO?
She kept wondering how she could keep from making love to him without arousing his suspicions. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would go to a doctor. See if he could find out whether she had a social disease or not. There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she wondered about how long it would take before a doctor could find out if she had it. There was a dictionary in the bedroom, so she looked in it to see if she could find anything out, but all the dictionary told her was how to spell the words and how to pronounce them.
Somehow, Virginia managed to idle away the rest of the afternoon, dreading the dinner hour when she knew she would have to face Ewing. She didn't know where he was or what he was doing, but she remembered he'd come out of the library to greet her when she'd come home. When she looked out the window,.she saw his car parked in the drive which told her he was still there. She wished he would have to take a month-long business trip of some kind, during which time she made herself a vow."// never, never, EVER do anything like that again. That didn't seem strong enough, so she lifted her eyes toward the ceiling, folded her Tiands in a prayerful attitude, and started making bargains. It seemed necessary to her to actually whisper the words, to give them strength, so she did, but kept them very quiet. "Listen, God. Or Jesus. Or Bhudda, Great Pumpkin, Sun, Mother Nature, Sacred Cow or whatever there might be that controls such things, you've got to help me. I've never been worried about this sort of thing before, because I've always been a good girl. I don't think it'd be fair if I were to be punished so cruelly for just a couple of little mistakes ... and here's the deal. If I don't have anything, I promise that I'll never do such terrible things again."
After the deed was already done, the words and gesture seemed silly to her, but she shrugged, tried to throw off the feeling of impending doom, and left her bedroom, knowing it was time for dinner.
Ewing was handsome and elegant. He was also extremely attentive. Virginia tried to convince herself that there was nothing unusual in his behavior. He was always handsome and elegant and attentive. But she was sure he kept looking at her as though he were trying to figure out something about her. She found it impossible to look at him completely, even when he was talking to her, which was most of the time. She found out she was able to unfocus her eyes and look at him without seeing him, but that didn't really help much, because she had to concentrate very hard in order to keep her eyes unfocused, which took her mind off the conversation.
The first course was served. It was salad instead of soup, and it seemed to Virginia that even the cook and maid knew of her terrible guilt. Ewing ordered the meals and saw to the grocery lists, but she didn't think he would have asked the cook to prepare a salad that reminded her of a sexual orgy.
Get hold of yourself, Virginia, she thought sternly. It's only stuffed tomato. It's just that you've got a burdened mind when you look down at it and think of how it resembles an anus with a cock shoved in it.
There was also a hard boiled egg. Part of the yolk had burst through the white, which made her think of a cock inside a pussy. She pushed at it with her fork, unable to eat it, trying not to remember the wonderful feeling of having a cock stuffed inside her own tight little straining pussy ... to say nothing of the one she'd felt, exotically, in her anus.
There was a mouth-watering casserole dish of pasta stuffed with meat, cheese and tomato. sauce, spicy and delicious. Next came the zucchini squash. Virginia wondered why she'd never noticed before the distinctly phallic look of zucchini. They were about seven inches long and they were boiled whole, swimming in a buttery sauce that was delicious and spicy. Then there was the asparagus, which was placed in attractive bundles, the tip ends all going in the same direction. To Virginia, it looked exactly like several miniature penises, complete with pointed, swollen cockheads. She refrained from dipping the asparagus into the dish of hollandaise sauce. She almost shrieked when dessert was served. It was a mound of creamy ice cream with a red ripe strawberry on top. When she looked down at the stemmed dessert glass the maid put in front of her, she couldn't help remembering how she'd looked down at her breasts and noticed that they had looked like cantaloupe with strawberries on top. Of course, it was ice cream, but then ... She looked up and met Ewing's eyes just then and blushed furiously, dropping her spoon.
"Are you all right, my dear?" Ewing's voice was mild, but full of warm concern for her.
"Oh, yes. Of course," she said quickly. The maid brought her another dessert spoon, but she couldn't force down more than a few token bites of the rich ice cream.
After dinner, Ewing asked if she would like to go out. Do something. Take in a concert, a movie, a night club, anything at all. She said she didn't think she wanted to go anywhere. He didn't ask her where she'd been during the afternoon, but she was sure she'd felt better if he had. Somehow, it didn't seem natural for him not to wonder where she'd been. But then, she reminded herself, she probably wouldn't feel that way if she'd been innocently shopping, or something.
He said he had some things to do, then, if she was sure she didn't want to do anything but stay home. Regretfully, she realized she should have said yes, she felt terrible. Was sick with a headache, sore throat, or almost anything, when the opportunity had presented itself during dinner. Because if she'd been on the ball, she could have seized that golden opportunity to say she was sick as a dog, which would make Ewing understand that she wouldn't be able to make love to him. Restlessly, she paced the floor of the big living room and wondered what she could do, what she would do, how she would manage to make Ewing stay away from her. She turned on the stereo and listened to soothing music, but it didn't relax her. Instead, she grew more and more nervous as she listened to the music. Especially when she realized that she couldn't keep her thoughts from wandering back, with lust, to the way she'd spent her afternoon. She kept telling herself that she must never, never allow herself to go back to that bar and try to find Tom and Justin again. And all the time her breasts were aching and that tender, but used, feeling of her pussy kept reminding her that she'd loved it. When she walked, her bottom felt slightly sore, but it was a good slightly soreness. Unconsciously, her hands started caressing her breasts as she moved from sofa to chair, back to the sofa, flicked the stereo off, sat on another chair, another sofa, then finally went to the window and looked out into the dark night. She jumped and her hands shook for a long while afterward, when Ewing came quietly into the room and spoke her name.
"I didn't mean to startle you, Virginia. You seem lost in thoughts."
"I was," she said.
"What were you thinking about?"
She looked at his face and swallowed, feeling tears very close to the surface. Biting her lips, she made up something trite about the lights of the city, distant in the black sky.
"You're sure you don't find it boring, being married to a man several years your senior?"
"Oh, no!" Her protest was genuine.
He smiled at her and came to stand behind her. She felt the warmth of his body against her buttocks, and his arms went around her, gently touching her breasts. The nipples hardened and she swayed, understanding and momentarily delighting in the quick surge of heat that rippled up and down her body and settled in her loins. It was most difficult, but she forced herself to gently remove his hands. Because right then she was convinced that her escapade of the afternoon had finally lubricated her or opened her or broken through the barriers of whatever it was that kept her from cumming when her own husband was making love to her. A part of her knew absolutely that if he took her right then ... if he ripped her dress up over her head and fucked her on the floor, for instance, which was what she wanted, she would cum. Yet she was so possessed with fear of disease that she knew she didn't dare. Stammering a little, she said, "Ewing, I don't feel well at all."
"You don't?" There was no room for doubt in his disappointment.
"No, I have a splitting headache." To show him, she put her hands on her forehead where she thought it would probably ache if she did have one. She'd never been bothered with headaches.
"I thought you weren't feeling well at dinner," he said in his considerate voice. "Well, then, perhaps you'd better take a couple of aspirins and go to bed."
"Yes. Of course," she answered, grateful to be getting out of going to bed with him so easily.
"Perhaps your activities of this afternoon brought the headache on," he said then.
Something rose up from Virginia's belly and slammed her in the chest. An icy wind seemed to be blowing straight through her, for all the world as though someone had opened a hole in her chest and one to match in her back. "What do you mean?" Her eyes just wouldn't go through the motions of looking at him innocently. She tried, but knew she failed miserably, but all the time she hoped his remark had been innocent. For all she knew, she told herself, hanging on to hope with all her might, he'd only meant that any innocent activity of that afternoon could have brought on a headache. On the other hand, she noted that he was waiting a long time before answering her. During those few seconds that stretched so long, scattered thoughts rained down upon her consciousness.
He's had a private detective following me around.
Cameras!
Maybe that man, that Tom, was in his employ, or ... oh, no!
Or Justin, the cab driver, everybody spying on me. ...
It happens to people all the time. He might even kill me.
And all the time the words she'd uttered, "What do you mean?" seemed to echo about in the room, ricocheting off the walls and chandeliers. In retrospect, her high-pitched voice sounded childish, guilty, frightened,' and as though they had been spoken through a metal tube, from far away. And false, false, FALSE.
Ewing Prince knew something important indeed was hovering in the air between them. He knew Virginia had no headache, but he knew she had brushed her teeth and taken a douche. He knew she had behaved strangely at dinner, but the way she'd jumped when he came into the room had left him with little doubt. He'd felt the hardening of her nipples when he'd touched her breasts and knew she was aroused, but since he also knew that although he aroused her he didn't satisfy her, he was probably correct in surmising that she'd been out screwing around on him. Which was what caused him to make the decision to stop waiting for time and love and the considerable administration of a stiff prick to shake Virginia out of what he was reasonably sure was an emotional rather than a functional disability that left her unable to reach orgasm.
"What I mean, my dear, is that sometimes women get headaches when they don't want to fuck."
Virginia stared at him. "Uh?" She felt fuzzy and scared and shaken.
"That's right." He smiled at her. "Especially when they've fucked somebody else in the afternoon."
"Uh?" She knew the word was meaningless, but she felt meaningless right then. In fact, she felt about an inch and a half high and practically invisible.
"You know," she said with what she hoped was an elegant shrug designed to let him know it meant nothing to her.
He reached a hand out.
Chapter Nine
Virginia had no way of knowing it, but Ewing merely put his hand out because he felt it was necessary to steady her. She showed every sign of someone about to topple over. His hand was already on the satiny smooth flesh of her upper arm, a tender touch with not a trace of malice in the way he held her when she squeezed out three frightened words. "Don't hurt me."
"My love, I don't want to hurt you. I love you."
Blankly, she stared at him. "You do? When you know 'I-you knew all along?"
He shook his head. "I suspected this afternoon, but I didn't know until you told me. Just now. But now that it's out in the open, don't you feel better?"
She didn't feel at all better. She felt weak with fright and shock, but she was relieved to know that he wasn't going to beat her or anything like that. "Maybe I ought to see a psychiatrist?"
"Maybe." Gently, he led her toward the upstairs part of the house. When they were inside her bedroom and he had closed the door, he seated himself on a big chaise lounge and pulled her down to his lap where he cuddled her as though she were a baby. "Maybe you'd prefer to talk to me about your problems? After all, I know you. You're my wife. Sometimes it helps to talk about these things openly. There's nothing really magic about a psychiatrist or psychologist. Certainly I think it would be a good idea if you were to give an analyst a whirl, but they can't guarantee anything. And it may be that you can't get an appointment right away."
Virginia felt frozen; unable to respond to her husband's kind words and gentle treatment. He seemed to understand, because he didn't wait for her to reply. Instead, he continued speaking to her in a soothing voice, much as he would had she been a child caught in some harmless bit of mischief. "You've heard people say going to confession in the Catholic Church is comparable to a visit to a psychiatrist, I'm sure. Sometimes people can work out their problems just by taking them out in the open and looking at them under a clear light. Just talking to anybody is better than keeping things all bottled up inside, Virginia." "I know." She was twiddling with a button on his jacket, unable to look at him, unable to respond to his gentle coaxing. In a way she was tempted to blurt everything out to him, relieving herself of the crimes she felt she'd committed. By telling her husband all about the things she'd done, she had an idea she would somehow feel washed a little cleaner, but she couldn't get the words beyond the tight feeling in her throat. "I'd like to tell you," she finally said, "but I don't think I could do it. It's bad enough that you know I've been unfaithful."
"Perhaps some men would react differently toward what you refer to as being unfaithful, Virginia, but I can't see where you've done anything that calls for such horrible feelings of guilt."
"That means you don't love me, then," she said, stunned and stricken.
"But I do. I'm not a jealous man by nature. There may be a time when I will be unfaithful to you. The human animal is not really compatible with monogamy." He shrugged. "Oh, there are some men and women who never stray, but I believe they're rare. And those who do remain faithful can seldom say they've never been inclined to step out of the structure of matrimony. Most people won't admit it, because proper morals have always been the ideal. There was a time when people kept their insane relatives locked in an attic or chained in a basement. They were ashamed of them. And there was a time not too long ago when relatives with cancer were carefully hidden away from public view. We have many vestiges of this kind of thinking still with us even today. It's inhumane, but people are still made to suffer all kinds of mental and physical anguish because of some illnesses that are not considered morally untainted. Why, darling, it hasn't been too terribly long since deaf mutes were not listed in the United States census. They were considered non-persons. Anything taboo is somehow related to moral values, whether it makes any sense or not. I say there's very little difference between one kind of social behavior and another as long as it isn't the kind of pathological lunacy that deprives humanity of life or freedom."
"I don't know what you mean, Ewing," said Virginia.
He spoke again and she pressed her head against his chest, taking comfort in the rumble of his voice, the strength she felt in the solidness of his chest.
"It's just that people set different values on different things. These things come about through social change. Once mankind had no rules against what we refer to as promiscuity. Or sleeping around. Most animals fuck different mates during their heat, and the human animal was just the same. When humans began to realize that babies are helpless and a moral consciousness developed, it became necessary to provide for the family. Here's where religion entered. It was no doubt a good thing, because it was necessary for the children to be cared for. The easiest way for the family structure to be protected was for the leaders to devise a fearful and wrathful god of some kind that would supposedly punish those who didn't keep themselves pure. The taboo against incest came about because of the tendency of inbreeding to produce inferior babies. Probably almost every moralistic principle was designed out of necessity. I honestly believe that man's jealousy was fostered by moral values.. . that the moral principles came first, then jealousy was learned as a side effect."
Virginia smiled. "You sound like a stranger to me. I didn't know you even thought about things like that."
"We don't know each other very well. We were married too soon, maybe."
She clutched his hand tightly. "Then does that mean you're sorry?"
"Only if you are."
"I'm not," she said after a long silence. "I'm only sorry that I feel the way I do. I can't understand it. I love you so much. I really do. At first, I wasn't sure I did so terribly much. I mean, this is difficult to say, but everybody was badgering me. At the office, I mean. About getting married. They said it was about time ... and most of the girls were always harping about how it wasn't natural for me to go around with my cherry. Well, I never felt like I wanted to get married before. There was another person I was sort of-drawn to. Maybe if I hadn't met you when I did ... I mean, really got to know you instead of just looking at you when you walked by and thinking There goes the boss, well, I might have eventually married this other man. But I don't really know for sure. Anyway, you did rush me off my feet. I just wasn't sure I loved you so much, and didn't know I did until after we were married. Then I began to worry about losing you."
"But why?"
"Because I couldn't cum. I thought something was wrong with me."
"There may well be, but I doubt if it's something that can't be cured." He held her face away from him slightly so he could look at her. She forced herself to look into his eyes, but it hurt her so dreadfully that she could only do it for an instant. She noticed that he was smiling, and realized at last that she had nothing to fear from him, but she still couldn't force herself to say more.
"I think maybe we should try to get you to a psychiatrist, Virginia. Or a psychologist. And quickly. It's probably a mistake to try to talk it out just now, especially when you feel you can't."
Marveling at his patience and understanding, she nodded, and felt him lift her to her feet. It seemed incredible to her that he'd known all along that she hadn't been reaching orgasm, but obviously he had known. She prepared for bed and read a while, grateful because she felt less nervous and upset. When she slept she dreamed that an earthquake shook the house down all around her. She was crawling around on her hands and knees in a dazed condition, sifting through the debris, when she came upon a button which she lifted in her hand and cried over, knowing it was a button from Ewing's jacket.
While she was crying over the button, her Uncle Jerry came to her through a pink satin curtain that hung down from a slate-gray sky. In his hands he held an umbrella. She put her hands over her face because the umbrella gave off a dazzling light that hurt her eyeballs. The handle of the umbrella was made of gold and shaped like a penis. "Stand up, Virginia," said her Uncle Jerry.
She stood, but only because her Uncle Jerry was the only man left alive in the world. But she said defiantly, "I'm not going to let you put your cock in my mouth and I'm not going to suck it. I'm no longer a young girl. I'm a married woman, and I have my husband's prick to consider. You must remember that, so don't ask me."
Her Uncle Jerry smiled. It was a beautiful thing, but she could see the evil behind it. He said, "Did I ever ask you to suck my cock?"
"No, but you put it in my mouth, and there wasn't anything else to do with it."
He sighed, and told her to walk along with him, he'd never mention such a thing to her again, and she was grateful. But as they walked, he somehow managed to get the umbrella behind her, which she seemed to have realized all along he would do. It was weird, the way he eased it in her anus like that, and she didn't feel the slightest bit of pain. Instead, she felt simply wonderful, and slowly, almost majestically, she got to her knees, where she spread her legs wide in order to get as much of the golden cock up inside her ass as she could.
"Now, what we'll do is whistle up something for your cunt," said her Uncle Jerry, who had somehow fastened himself to the golden cock that was really the handle of the umbrella. She could tell, because he was no longer at her side. Instead, he was behind her, and his hands were pulling open the cheeks of her ass in order to penetrate the golden cock even deeper. She arched backward dreamily, her eyes half closed, and loved it.
"I don't need anything for my cunt, Uncle Jerry," she said in a tremulous voice, "except your fingers. Couldn't you just sort of shove them up into it? And while you're at it, you could maybe slide the palm of your hand up and down against my clitoris." It bothered her to hear herself speaking in those words, but at the same time she felt it was perfectly natural under the circumstances. Where she was kneeling, she saw several lovely flowers. One was an iris, and it was dark blue. Right beside it was a white one, and she noticed that the inside of the flower was shaped exactly like her very own pussy. She stared and stared at the inside of the iris, curiously and studiously. Then she lowered her face to the flower and breathed deeply of the heavy fragrance. It was suddenly necessary for her to lick the tiny little pistil of the flower. Her tongue tingled. Her Uncle Jerry's golden cock rode in and out of her in slow, exotic strokes. The pistil of the iris became bigger and bigger and suddenly it was dark pink and so big that it filled her mouth, then slid down beyond her tonsils. Her mouth worked and worked, and her throat muscles contracted eagerly around the slippery, pounding prick that the pistil of the flower had finally become.
Suddenly a flock of birds flew overhead. They were dark and she could feel their wings beating against the back of her very head. She fucked backward, accepting the entire length of her Uncle Jerry's cock, shimmering with bliss as she knew she would soon cum. But the birds were talking to her, and she had to stop humping back and forth, because the rhythmical pounding of her Uncle Jerry's balls as they slapped against the back of her legs blotted out the words of the birds. When she heard what it was the birds were saying, she stopped all the lovely action and started to sob. Because they were mocking birds and they were screaming shrilly:
"Virginia's a cocksucker. Virginia's a cocksucker. Virginia's an ass-fucker. Virginia's an ass-fucker."
"I am not," she said loudly. So loudly that the sound of her own voice awakened her. "That's just an umbrella handle in my ass and what I had in my mouth before I let it slide out is nothing but the pistil of an iris."
She awakened in a cold sweat, her pulse racing. It was dark in the room, but for a few minutes she thought she could see golden dancing lights. They were everywhere in the room, but mostly on the ceiling. Finally they faded, and she knew with a frightening finality that she absolutely must get to a psychiatrist, and as soon as possible. As far back as she could remember, she had never been bothered with dreams that were obviously sexual in nature. She knew she could have experienced such dreams and not remembered them, but she thought if she had she would have awakened, horrified, just as she felt right then. After a few seconds of hesitation, she reached down with her fingers and felt her damp pubic hairs. They were all sticky and gooey and after she had calmed herself, she realized that in spite of the weird dream she felt relaxed and at peace. Sobbing, she turned over and pounded the pillow, believing herself to be seething with evil. "I did it. I did it. I came while I slept!" She was afraid that the next thing she'd find herself doing was racing out onto the street naked, stretching her pussy wide open and yelling at the top of her lungs, "Cock! Cock! I have to have a cock!"
Chapter Ten
In Virginia's haste to get herself straightened out, she made an appointment with the first psychologist who would give her an appointment within a reasonable length of time. By the time she saw him, she'd already found out that she was not walking around with a dreadful venereal disease. Ewing had remained calm and wonderfully kind, never pressing her for any more conversation. The fact that he had also remained out of her bedroom upset Virginia considerably, although she kept trying to tell herself she should be grateful. She had often thought of his theory concerning right and wrong, and felt she had every reason to be grateful because he hadn't been jealous or angry. At the same time, she was sure she would never be able to accept with any kind of grace her husband's infidelity. Fears that he might be getting sex somewhere kept nagging at her. She knew he was heavily sexual, and it seemed only reasonable that he would hardly be content with reading a good book or jacking off. She knew that in spite of his age he was loaded with sex appeal, and even without the added asset of his money he would have no trouble in bedding any woman he wanted. She felt herself seething with rage as she imagined him in all kinds of sexy positions, doing all kinds of sexy things with hundreds of beautiful women. Although she didn't say a word to him about it, she kept hoping that if he was having an affair ... or several affairs ... that he wouldn't tell her.
The day of her appointment with the psychologist finally arrived. She was icy cold with fear, yet boiling with feverish anticipation. In her anxiety to get the twisted thing that she didn't understand about herself cured, she'd begun to halfway hope that one session on the couch would produce a miraculous cure.
He was Doctor Dunston Dutton, age thirty-three, slender to the point of emaciation and handsome in a wistful, hungry way. He wore a beard, quite dark and nicely trimmed. His eyes were liquid and his eyebrows went up in decided little peaks which made Virginia catch her breath and push thoughts of Satanic influences out of her mind. His hair was thick and almost black and grew down around his collar, which added to the lean and hungry look without actually making him look sinister. When he spoke, his voice made Virginia think of the fresh scent of springtime in Illinois, almost hear the sound of a throbbing Spanish guitar under the inimicable fingers of Laurindo Almeida and somehow she felt the trickle of creme de cocoa mixed with rich cream on her tongue. "You look like a poet," she blurted.
He smiled. His teeth sparkled. His eyebrows became even more pronounced as they winged upward. Around his fine dark eyes were tiny wrinkles that bespoke a man with a sense of humor, one who laughed and enjoyed himself often. "Lucky for me. I think if I had not been lucky enough to be born with this face I should have been forced to dig ditches or clean out latrines. As it was, all good things came to me. What is your trouble, Virginia Prince?" He leaned back in his chair and looked at her with a winning smile.
"When I have intercourse with my husband I can't cum."
"Ah?" The way the doctor said it was different from the way anyone else had ever made that little word sound. The air around them fairly sizzled with innuendo, she felt.
"Ah, what?" She sounded, even to herself, very much like the rather gauche little girl from Illinois whom she secretly felt herself to be. Even her voice sounded flat as the prairie country where she'd been born. And although she didn't like to acknowledge it, even to her own ears she sounded suspicious, and like she felt in her inner heart that the psychologist was immediately going to put something over on her.
"Ah. Simply that. It's a good thing to say, Virginia, when one can't think of anything else. I've often felt it should be included in regular medical courses. With just the right inflections, one can portray many different kinds of emotions by simply using that one word. But we must continue with you. Why can't you cum when your husband fucks you?"
"I don't know."
"Well, do you want to?"
"Of course I want, to."
The doctor sighed, then shrugged. "Well, then. It really isn't important why you can't. What is important is that you want to. Have you had a physical examination?"
"Not lately, but it isn't necessary," she snapped. "I can cum with someone else." "
"Ah."
There it was again, she was thinking. And how right he had been when he'd said he could infer most anything by simply using that one word. If his grin had not been so engaging, she might have gotten to her feet and stamped right out of his office. But it was engaging, and also he immediately asked her another question, which she answered quickly, then another, which she answered just as quickly. Somehow, without knowing quite how it happened, she found herself standing. The questions had come faster and faster and her answers had kept pace. The doctor had raised his voice and she had raised hers. She had read a great deal of material that concerned both psychology and psychiatry, and even as she continued to answer the man and obey him when he instructed her to come forward, she worried around in the back of her head that he was certainly not very orthodox. In between another lightning-fast question and her automatic answer, she managed to blurt out, "Say, what kind of psychologist are you? I thought you were a behaviorist, but ... "
"I don't have any problem, Virginia, I cum beautifully with my wife. And I have a right to practice. Everybody practices when they're working with a branch of the medical arts. A doctor practices when he performs an operation. Not necessarily for the next operation, that's just what it happens to be called. Great that most vermiform appendices are where they're supposed to be. And gall bladders, kidneys, tonsils and the like. Of course if it isn't there, the doctor was just practicing anyway. Now I'm practicing on you to see if I can help you. I have to do some exploring."
"Mental or physical?"
"Both."
"I don't think that's the way you're supposed to do it."
"Virginia! You shoot pool your way, I'll shoot it mine. I bet I can cure more ladies of not cumming with their husbands than you can. Take off your panties and pantyhose."
"Ill do no such thing."
"Of course you will. You know you will, so don't waste time fooling around."
"Ill report you to the AM A"
"Really?" His dark liquid eyes followed her every gesture as she took off her panties and pantyhose, all the time telling herself she would not do it, no, no, never would.
"Now. Get on my lap. Straddle me with your charming little straddle."
"With all your clothes on?"
"Virginia, I'm not going to fuck you. I'm just going to help you. On my lap. Hurry. Your husband is paying for this session and I'm sure he doesn't like to throw his money away. There. That's better. Now rock your clitoris against my trousers. Lovely, lovely." He reached down a hand and brought it out after sticking it into the suddenly squishy mass of throbbing clit. His eyes frowned and his mouth quirked. "I see you have plenty of the old fuck oil. Nice to see a young girl like you has the proper lubrication." He gave her a clinical look that enraged her and asked her calmly how long she thought it would take her to cum.
"Forever," she said crossly. "With nothing in me."
"Nonsense. You could come by clitoral friction. Rubbing the clit against a button, a raveling, a bobby pin or a prick. Give me an estimate."
"I can't. You're impossible." She felt silly with her bare bottom hanging out there in back of her, her nice long graceful legs bent under her at the knee and all action stopped while the charming, handsome, sexy man she was hovered over simply sat there and kept saying 'Hmmmmm.' Now and then he gave his beard a pensive tug. But mostly he just kept asking her how long she thought it would take her to cum if she really put her mind to it.
"All right," she finally said in exasperation. "Maybe three minutes. Or less. If I really worked at it, of course."
"So how long does your husband fuck you?"
"Oh, a long long time."
"And you still don't cum? What a drag."
"Listen," she said sharply. "I came to you because I-"
"Shut up," he said. "I'm thinking."
"Well, I resent this kind of treatment."
"Go ahead and resent it."
She decided to get off his lap, but he yanked her back. Then he took out a big old-fashioned pocket watch and opened it with a flick of one immaculate fingernail. "All right, Virginia," he said with his eyes glued on the watch. "I'm going to start finger-fucking you. Let's see how quickly you can reach orgasm." Suddenly he was all mystical medical man, and she decided to cooperate. Maybe that watch in his hand did it, she decided as she felt the sweet pressure of his finger reaching inside her vagina. It immediately responded by clutching and gobbling, and sucking his finger in as far as it would go. Another finger was applied to her clitoris. Since that little organ was already juicy with froth, it was easy for him to slip and slide his finger round and round in the jism. She opened her mouth and panted. Her eyes glazed over. Involuntarily, she clutched her hands around the back of the chair, gripping it hard so she could hold on and hump. Even if she tried very hard, which she didn't at all, she couldn't have kept her ass from hunching hungrily, from sawing her slit back and forth with wild joy against the strange-appearing doctor's warm and knowledgeable hands.
"Just sing it right out there, Virginia," he said. "The minute you start to reach a climax."
"Ummmmmmm," she moaned.
She noticed that he didn't take his eyes off the big old pocket watch at all. Not for a second. Her breath was coming in harsh pants and her tongue was thick and juicy in her mouth. It wasn't, she thought as she whanged back and forth, riding in her own juice, as good as really fucking, but then it was better than nothing. Better than the empty cum of that dream she'd had that night, too. She wished the psychologist would let her tell him about the dream because she thought it would surely be relevant. But then she felt the building, building, and the bubbling of the cum that was fighting to get out. The first faint itch of erotica that came upon her just before the riptide of the cum was playing around with her nerves and she clamped her teeth together, then opened her mouth and wailed long and loud. "Uhhhhhhhh-huh! Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh. I'm ... cummmmmmmmmmmming!"
Gasping and spluttering, she ground her ass back and forth in order to get the last glorious drop of cum squeezed out, then fell against the dark material of his suit.
"Well now," he said brusquely as he stood up and spilled her off his lap. "Oh, oh. Sorry. I forgot you were there for a second. That is, I was interested in the exact time. Imagine. Two minutes, twenty seconds. Fantastic. And without a kiss, too." He went to a small sink and washed his hands. Then he noticed that she was stepping back into her pantyhose and told her not to.
"Why not?"
"Because I told you to leave them off for just now, Virginia."
She sat back down, feeling foolish. Her pantyhose were strung out across her lap. Her fingernails worried at the silken ankles, pricking at them hard enough to poke little holes into them if they hadn't been the kind that doesn't run. "What I'm going to do, Virginia, is put you into a light hypnotic trance."
"Oh, I don't believe I can be hypnotized."
"Well see, so leave the driving to me."
It didn't take long, she felt, to show him that she had been right. She'd always felt that she was too strong-minded to be a really good hypnotic subject. She was very aware of everything that he said to her. She felt a tendency to smile sarcastically when he told her that when he counted to ten she would be unable to unclasp her hands and pull them apart. She knew she'd be able to, and could barely wait until he had gone through the tiresome actions and the counting. There was a smirk on her face when he reached the number nine. At ten she looked down at her hands where they were clasped together in a ladylike pose in her lap. The word, ten, was barely out of his mouth when she started to pull her hands apart to show him it wasn't going to work. "You see?"
"See what?" She heard the psychologist's voice clearly, but as if from a great distance, just as her own had sounded. Probably it was something strange about the acoustics, she thought as she looked at her hands, confident that they would be unclasped.
They weren't. They were still tightly folded, the right over the left. The fingernails of her left hand curled tightly around the little finger of her right hand as well as the outer part of her palm. Of course, she thought worriedly. It was ridiculous. She'd been tricked somehow and would have to show him that she was not one to be deceived so. But she tried and she tried and she couldn't pull her hands apart.
"Now, Virginia, I'm going to put you deeper in trance. Do you understand?"
After what seemed a long time, her voice came again, even farther away this time. "I understand."
"Now. You're very tired, Virginia. You must relax completely. All over. You're very, very tired. Soooooooo tired." The doctor's voice continued and she felt herself sinking, as though she were slowly falling into a deep well. Oddly enough, she wasn't afraid, although she thought she really ought to be. Yet, there seemed to be a promise of something lovely and warm and peaceful at the bottom of the well, and she had the psychologist's promise that she had nothing to fear, nothing at all------"Now, Virginia. Your husband is here. Open your eyes. Do you see him?"
"Yes."
For a few seconds Virginia was disoriented, aware of looking at things from the odd perspective of being under muddy waters. Through the murky darkness she heard a dissonant knocking-knocking at the door of her mind and something said to her in a small voice that things were not as they appeared to be. She knew she had come to the psychologist's office alone. Had driven there in the new car Ewing had given her just a week ago. He had offered to drive her, but she was afraid to even have him sitting in the outer office, so deep were her self-doubts. Now, inexplicably, he was there in the office with her and Doctor Dutton. She wondered how he had managed to arrive; how he had worked the timed entrance to coincide with the state of helplessness she now realized she was in. She tried to protest, but as soon as the fraction of a second of confused wondering was passed she forgot all about it, possibly because Doctor Dutton was speaking again.
"You did say just a few moments ago, Virginia, that you are in love with your husband. Were you speaking the truth?" The doctor's voice sounded distant, but there was a warmth in his inflection that had not been there when she'd been alone with him. She tried to answer, but she couldn't. Now no words could be forced from her throat. She felt a hand on hers. It was warm and encouraging. The doctor's voice continued to speak to her, confidently and encouragingly. "I told you a few seconds ago, Virginia, that you wouldn't be able to speak when I had placed you into the lowest depths of hypnosis. Now I will release you from that command, but you do understand that I had to check and make sure you are at the lowest level of consciousness. You will find you can now speak. Do you understand me now?"
"Oh, yes," said Virginia.
"Now, I want you to understand, Virginia, that you have nothing to be afraid of. You're here in the office with me. The only other person in the office is your own husband, Ewing Prince. Do you object to your husband's presence?"
"Yes."
"Very well; I'll make him leave immediately. Now he's gone. Do you see him now?"
"No." It was very confusing. She had seen Ewing quite clearly, then he had simply disappeared. It was almost as if someone had come along with a giant eraser that would work on a human being the way the kind they used in school rooms worked on chalky blackboards.
"Now that he's gone, Virginia, perhaps you can tell me why you can't cum when you have intercourse with your husband."
"Because it isn't nice."
"Bullshit. What is this nice you're always talking about?"
"Oh, I must be nice. I simply must be nice. If I do something bad, something dreadful will take place."
"Is that right? Tell me about it."
"No."
"Yes. Virginia, you must!"
She clamped her teeth together and shook her head violently from side to side. She thought she was wringing her hands, but she wasn't sure.
"Listen, Virginia," said Doctor Dutton softly, "we were getting along so beautifully. Sometimes a patient can be helped immediately. You fought the unaccustomed feeling of being in a hypnotic trance just like most normal people fight it at first, but then you behaved sensibly, cooperating all the way. I'm sure you were in very deep hypnosis, but now you've climbed out of the positive state into a negative one. You're dangerously close to returning to your conscious mind, and you've done it out of fear. Won't you allow me to help you, Virginia?"
"I'm afraid."
"You have nothing to fear. I'm going to start counting again, Virginia. When I reach ten, you will again respond automatically and truthfully. One-two-three ... "
Virginia listened to the doctor as he counted, but she knew it wasn't going to work. Reluctantly, she decided she couldn't cope with it all just then. The psychologist continued to try to lower her into a complete state of submissive response once more for a long time, remaining patient throughout the operation, but she finally resorted to tears and he quickly brought her out of it.
"I'm sorry," she said when she again reached the completely conscious level. She could remember most of what had taken place, she thought, and then she decided she could remember everything, which was not the way she'd thought it would be at all. When he asked her how much she remembered and told her to go back over each subject they'd covered, he nodded, apparently satisfied.
"It was a failure, wasn't it?" She was acutely sorry.
"Not necessarily. You're a marvelous patient. My methods are often strange, but when I have a receptive patient, I like to shorten the visits if it's at all possible. Now tell me. Do you remember when I told you your husband was in the room with you and me?"
"I said I did."
He smiled. "Just checking, Virginia. Let me tell you how deeply you allowed yourself to be placed in a hypnotic state. Your husband wasn't here."
"Yes he was. I saw him."
"No. He was not. You saw him in this room only because I chose to make you see him. You've read of people being pricked with a pin and not bleeding?"
"Yes."
"Some patients are marvelously responsive. You're one of the lucky ones. You were able to let yourself go long enough to put your complete trust in another human being. It didn't last for long, but it did happen. You did believe you saw your husband, therefore I'm confident we can work well together. I don't know how long it will take, but I have high hopes that together we'll be able to help you, Virginia."
She left the office after a few more minutes, and she was still hopelessly befuddled. No doubt, she thought with a sinking feeling, the psychologist had caused it to happen, but no matter what had caused it, she couldn't help feeling strange and shaken when she realized she could no longer remember a thing that had taken place inside the private office. She drove straight to the office where she'd worked for so many years, suddenly needing a friend and confidante. The only person she had been really friendly with had been Betty Haley. Since it was almost quitting time, she drove carefully but quickly, hoping she would get there before Betty had left the building. It just didn't seem right that she couldn't remember a thing that had taken place between herself and the psychologist. What was even worse, by the time she arrived at the huge sprawling factory, she was so worked up that she began to wonder if she had even gone to the doctor in the first place.
Betty's car was not in the accustomed place. Virginia drove all up and down the parking lot searching for it, but it was definitely not there. By then she was shaking, so she pulled into the slot reserved for her husband and remained where she was, quietly attempting to pull herself together. She put her elbows on the steering wheel and rested her forehead in her hands, biting her lips to keep from crying out at the top of her lungs.
Someone spoke to her through the open window. She jumped, startled at the sound of the voice. She even shrieked out loud.
"I'm sorry," said Hobart Smith. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just wondered if you weren't feeling well, Virginia."
"Oh, I-Mr. Smith! I-I'm going to be all right in a second or two. I was just close by and felt suddenly faint." She ran her tongue around her dry lips and wished she'd learned to he better. "Also, I'd thought I might see Betty."
"She left early today. Had an appointment with her dentist, I think. And even though it isn't considered the best of ethics to come out flat-footed and tell someone they look positively terrible, I feel I must say it, Virginia. You're quite pale, and your hands are trembling. Have you been ill?"
"Oh, no, I-not exactly," Virginia answered.
"Well, I think, under the circumstances, I should drive you home."
"No, no! I'll be quite all right."
"Nonsense." Virginia could hardly do anything but move over when Hobart Smith opened the car door in a business-like way and told her to. "Why, I'd never forgive myself if I let you drive out of here looking so wan and sick and didn't do a thing to help you."
"I'm not sick," she said and crossed her fingers, hoping she wasn't mentally sick.
"Well, you certainly don't look well." He started the car and backed out of the parking place and said all the usual things men say to a former fellow office worker. Things that had to do with missing her, things like telling her he hoped she was very happy. Then he spoke about the girl who had taken her place. He said she was a nice enough girl, but she certainly lacked Virginia's really fantastic body, and of course now that she was married to the boss a lot of the old elan was missing from the office. He laughed and added, "I don't suppose it's any news to you that the favorite topic of conversation around the office was who might get your cherry and when it might take place and how it might be done."
She was feeling better. There was something almost normal about being in the car with Hobart Smith, even though she'd never been before. She thought maybe it was a little like spending a lengthy vacation in a foreign country and suddenly encountering an old acquaintance. Even though the chance meeting would have resulted in no more than a polite smile and a perfunctory nod if it had taken place in the States, such an occurrence would have been an occasion for great pleasure if it took place on foreign soil. She knew she didn't really know Hobart Smith, very well, but she suddenly felt so great that she almost wanted to sing out in rejoicing just to be there with him.
They were taking the road that led out of town and toward the mansion where she now lived with Ewing Prince when Hobart said casually, "I just bought a new home, Virginia. It's the old Chalmers place, just about a half mile up this road then a mile east. They say it's haunted, but I don't believe in ghosts and I got it for an absolute song. Needs a lot of repairs, though."
"Oh, I used to go there now and then when I was a child," said Virginia.
"Is that right?" Hobart was silent for a second, and Virginia noticed that he slowed the car considerably. Then, after what she took to be a moment of hard decision, he said, "Do you suppose your husband would take offense if you were to drive out there with me for a few seconds? I've something of a problem, and since you used to go there as a child, Fm sure you can tell me what I need to know."
"Oh, Ewing wouldn't mind at all," said Virginia quickly. "He isn't the least bit jealous. What is it you want to know, Mr. Smith?"
"Can't you call me by my first name?" He glanced at her out of the side of his eyes and she smiled, relaxing even more. "Well, I'll tell you. There's something wrong with the entrance way. I think somebody has recently made a change, because it doesn't seem to me that the front door ought to open into the living room the way it does. I think the front entrance used to be somewhere else, but I can't find any place where any changes have been made."
"I can tell you without going to see, Hobart," Virginia replied. "The front porch had two entrances into the house. One led into the living room, the other into a large reception hall."
Hobart Smith frowned. He made the turn that would take them to his house instead of continuing straight, quickly explaining why. "There isn't a reception hall there, Virginia. I think you must be mistaken. I don't think there's ever been one."
"Of course there was," she said. Then she fell silent, trying to picture in her mind just how the old house had been designed. Her memory was quite clear and she was positive there had been a large reception hall to the left of the front door entrance, which had never been used when she'd gone to the house as a youngster.
Once they arrived at the big old three-storied brick house, Virginia knew immediately where the changes had been made, and also why Hobart hadn't been able to detect any major architectural change. "Why, there's an entirely new front porch. The bricks look the same-they must have torn it down completely and then rebuilt it of the same bricks. The main entrance that used, to be there is completely gone." She wanted to see the inside of the house, curious about other changes that might have been made. It occurred to her that it was probably good for her morale to have something to be interested in other than herself, and suddenly felt almost light-hearted as she got out of the car and walked with Hobart Smith up the old-fashioned brick walk.
Inside the enormous living room, she saw immediately that the portion of the old house that had once been a formal foyer had been incorporated as part of the living room itself, and that the graceful staircase that led to the second floor now was visible from the living room instead of being hidden by the wall that had once separated the living room from the hall. She thought about it for a while and decided that since the stairs were so beautiful, the changes had added to the beauty of the house. She chatted with animation as she told Hobart some of the history concerning the house, which had once been used as an underground railway station for escaped slaves during the days just preceding and during the Civil War. He asked if she'd like to see what he'd done with the upstairs rooms, and she said she would, adding, "You know, I think I've been terribly bored lately. Sometimes I wish Ewing hadn't been so comfortable ... that he'd be willing to sell the house where we live so I could immerse myself in decorating a home of our own."
"Your house is fabulously beautiful, Virginia," said Hobart.
"I know." Virginia nodded her head, but the sharpness in her voice surprised her when she said without giving the idea any consideration, "but even so, sometimes I think I'm a trifle stifled. I mean .. ." She searched for words and they ascended the stairs while she tried to think of just what she wanted to say. Finally she said, "I think it depresses me a little to know that Ewing's past wives have chosen every stick of furniture. I'd like my house to reflect some of my own personality, maybe."
"Why don't you tell him?" Hobart asked. "He's a reasonable man, Virginia. I'm sure he'd have no objections if you wanted to throw everything out and start all over ... or even sell out and move. Have you ever mentioned it to Ewing?"
"I guess I never thought of it before. Until just now," she said in surprise.
She looked at all the upstairs rooms and became more animated than she'd been in several weeks as she suggested things Hobart might do with some of the rooms, then suddenly, without any warning at all, she burst into tears just as they came out of the master bedroom.
Since Hobart was a sensitive man who had never completely recovered from the loss of what he'd begun to look forward to as a meaningful relationship with Virginia, he did what came naturally. He took her in his arms, and comforted her while she attempted to pull herself together. One thing led to another, and before she realized what was happening or how it had happened, she found herself lying in the big four-poster bed of the master bedroom with him, her fingers eagerly seeking his rampaging cock.
Chapter Eleven
"You know I can't do this," Virginia said as she arched her body in a pulling away gesture only to find her body being pulled irresistibly back to Hobart's. "It isn't nice. Besides, it's different with you. Ewing knows you and likes you."
"I know him and like him too," said Hobart. "But that doesn't keep me from wanting you, Virginia. I guess you know I did, right from the first time I saw you." He kissed her again and again, and then he seemed to be remembering something. Pulling away, he said, "What's different? Am I to take it for granted that you've been doing a little hanky-panky with other men?"
"Not very much," she said honestly. "Just with a waiter. It sounds terrible, but I didn't care enough about him to ask his name. Then there were two other men." She didn't want to tell Hobart Smith how she had practically allowed herself to be taken by two men at once, and he didn't seem inclined to pry. At least not into that part of it. His interest seemed to her to he in the cause behind her infidelity.
"I would never have dreamed it of you, Virginia." Apparently he didn't mind, though, because bis hands went back to what they'd been doing before, which was exactly what Virginia wanted them to do. They were roaming all up and down the smooth contours of her body, just as though he would never get enough of the feel of her satiny textured skin. She thought a little guiltily along with her growing excitement that she'd always more or less felt in the back of her mind that Hobart Smith would know how to make a woman's body come- alive with all those little good tremors of desire, and it was hard for her to keep her mind on what he was saying, which had to do with why she'd screwed around on Ewing.
She decided that honesty would be the best policy, because she didn't want Hobart to think she was an out-and-out tramp. "Well, what happened was, he can get me all worked up to the point of being ready to die for an orgasm, but I can't do it. Then I'm just twitching all over and I have to have it. I did control it for a while." She didn't say she hadn't controlled it for very long, because she honestly had tripped into the next door bedroom with that waiter, wasting no time at all.
"You poor darling," said Hobart, misunderstanding. "Some men can't help it. They just cum too quickly, poor devils."
"That isn't it at all," said Virginia loyally. She didn't ever want to be one of those women who went around inferring by word or deed that her husband was a poor lover. "Ewing's marvelous in bed. Any other woman would give her eye teeth to have what I get. It's me. Something's wrong with my head or something, because there's certainly nothing wrong with my pussy. I can cum all over the place with anybody but Ewing. And he tries so hard, and he's so good and kind to me and I love him ... I honestly do love him, it's just that I can't stand it! See, he turned it on for me. The sex thing, I mean. I never felt much of anything for any other man. Maybe I didn't develop early or something. I had a few ... early experiences as a child, but not the real thing, Hobart. And I kept it all blocked off, then it was suddenly all right because I was married. But I could just get so far and no further, and I couldn't stand it." She hoped he did understand, and especially she hoped he wouldn't stop what he was doing. Just in case he was having any second thoughts about finishing things, she allowed herself to hump luxuriously, riding her slick slit back and forth against his hand. He had two fingers inserted in her vagina and his thumb was making exotic little circles against her clit. As if that wasn't enough to set her wild with heat, he had somehow hooked his little finger around so it was barely inserted into her anus, which almost brought her to a quick cum before she even thought about it. She decided to tell him she'd been to a psychologist about it, and that she'd been there for the first time that very afternoon, which was why she'd been so upset when he had happened to see her in the car where she'd gone to see if she could find Betty Haley. After she managed to grate that information out, she could contain herself no longer. "Ohhhlihhhhhhh, Hobart! Fuck me, please, oh, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck me! I can't wait!"
Hobart didn't waste any time. He raised himself up on his knees and reached for a pillow, which he placed under
Virginia's buttocks. She wondered why he was doing that, but decided not to ask. Hei head was humming with delirious desire, and burning with the wonderful knowledge that the desire was soon to be gratified. She eyed his prick, noticing how big and thick it was. It stuck straight out, a threatening weapon from his heavy growth of dark and curling pubic hair. She wanted to keep on holding it, but she also wanted to tongue it, kiss it and feel it filling her cunt, all at the same time. But then she leaned back and allowed him to do what he wanted to do with her, realizing that such decisions were out of her hands now altogether. He pulled her down almost to the foot of the bed, then ran his hands down her legs from thigh to ankle. A thrill coursed through her eager body just at the touch of his hands. But with her eyes steady on his magnificent prick, the thrill was even greater than it would have been if she'd felt nothing more than his warm hands against her trembling body. It surprised her a little when he lifted her legs by the ankles. She was stiff, because she didn't know what to do, but he murmured gently to her that he wanted her to bend her knees. She felt him bend them backward, so far that the soles of her feet touched the upper backs of her legs. For a second there she felt vulnerable and all exposed, conscious of the way her tits jutted straight up, the nipples brick red and hard, her flat belly rippling with thrills and her cunt all exposed to him like that. She felt even more exposed than she would normally have, she thought, because of the way the pillow under her ass made her slit stick up in the air, just as though she had been built in such a way as to make her enter a room twat first.
"Oh!" She cried out suddenly, because Hobart didn't stop pushing at her legs. He seemed bent on making her do acrobatics, she thought with a twinge of fear. "What are you doing?" Her eyes were wide with fear as she saw clearly what he was doing. He did intend to make her into a contortionist! "Listen, I can't bend my legs back like this, I haven't done a backward summersault since I was a little girl."
"Sure you can. Just relax."
She sighed, and there was a little sob in her voice. There was also a remembered sadness as she remembered the way that young Justin had told her to relax when he was getting ready to prong her in the ass. She wondered if all men asked the woman to relax when they were doing something impossible to them. But then she had to admit to herself that there'd been nothing impossible about relaxing and enjoying the strange feeling of getting her ass stuffed with cock. Thinking about it made her hotter than ever and with a little grunt, she allowed her body to accept the unaccustomed feeling of having her knees resting on either side of her face, her feet and legs from the knee down to the ankle pushed firmly together.
Hobart positioned himself just over her twitching cunt. His hands were busy, holding her legs in place where he wanted them. Virginia felt a new surge of heat overwhelm her when she accidentally tilted her head backward and saw herself in the mirror. "Oh, that's awful," she breathed. And was so fascinated that she couldn't take her eyes from the way she looked, all open and gaping down there at her pussy, her cunt a tiny dark red oblong opening that would soon be filled with delicious prick. In the mirror, she could see Hobart's naked body. His back muscles were straining, and his balls were dark and sinister looking, hard and swollen and full of seminal fluid that would soon come pumping into her. He pointed it at her hole and came down hard, thrusting it all downward in a fiery swoop of heavenly bliss.
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!" she moaned with pleasure. He was doing it just right. Just the way she wanted him to. He didn't yank it out right away, but left it in there where it seemed to pulsate up against her womb for a while, content to allow her sucking, gobbling sheath to work it over. When he did move it backward, it was slowly, with precision, and when it came back inside of her she yelled louder. "AHHHHHHHHHHH! YES, YES, YES, YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!"
She'd thought perhaps she wouldn't be able to fuck the way she'd learned to do it so well what with his hands holding her legs apart and backward and against the very pillow her head was on like that, but she found to her utter satisfaction that she was able to fuck fiercely, with the most satisfactory kind of motion. It was wonderful. It was heavenly, she thought frantically as she lifted her entire bottom from the pillow he'd put under it and met him thrust for heavenly thrust.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Her cry was loud enough and shrill enough to break glass, but the one that followed it was louder, more exuberant with joy. "YIIIIIIIIIIIII! I'M CUMMMMMMMMMING, CUMMMMMMMMMING, DOING IT NOW, OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
She lost herself in a tangled pulsating glorious wave of orgasm, made even more violently blissful by the knowledge that volley after volley of Hobart's cum was spurting deeply into her belly at exactly the same time she was gushing off. For a long moment, she was suspended in a continual orgasm that left her spent and weak; and for the first time since she'd become aroused, completely satisfied with one climax. When she saw that Hobart was all finished, she realized it was a good thing. It seemed to her that maybe she'd just fucked somebody else an hour or so before, which was why she'd been satisfied with reaching one, but when she stopped to try to remember who it could have been, she couldn't think of a soul. Certainly she hadn't fucked the psychologist, Doctor Dutton, she thought.
Hobart held her in his arms and allowed her to rest for a while, then she said she should be going on home. "You drove me in your car. How will you get to work?"
"Tomorrow? I'll take a cab or something," he said.
"No. I'll have one of the servants drive you back to the office and you can pick up your car." Virginia spoke while she was self-consciously getting dressed. It bothered her because Hobart was interested in the psychologist again, mostly because she'd gone back to wondering why she couldn't remember what had taken place inside his office. She finally told him what was worrying her about the' strange interlude inside Doctor Dutton's office, and he said the doctor had probably given her a post-hypnotic suggestion that had caused her to forget everything that had taken place during her first visit. "I wouldn't worry about it, Virginia. It's probably for your own good. But you could call him. Why don't you?" Hobart unplugged a telephone from where it had been by the bed and handed it to Virginia where she was. She'd been sitting in a chair, once again allowing her mind to consider changes she'd like to make in Hobart's house.
She remembered the psychologist's number and dialed it immediately. His office nurse put her right on, and she asked the question quickly, suddenly terribly worried again about her lapse of memory. She asked the question and nodded her head. Then she kept on nodding her head as she looked at Hobart, letting him know he'd been right about his assumption. She was about to hang up the telephone when Doctor Dutton asked her where she was.
"With a friend," she answered evasively.
"Male or female?"
Virginia took the telephone away from her ear and looked at it oddly. It seemed to her that the psychologist could surely see her. She didn't answer and the idea that he could somehow see where she was became even stronger. "You're with a man, Virginia. You've just fucked him."
"How did you know?" she asked when she put the telephone back into speaking position.
"Because I can tell by the sound of your voice. It has that husky, satisfied quality that some women get when they've just been fucked. Who is this man?"
"I can't tell you," she wailed. She was halfway afraid that if she told her psychologist that even though Ewing had insisted he wasn't jealous, he might take a dim view of her fucking around with his employees. She certainly didn't want to cause Hobart Smith to lose his job.
"All right. Just tell me .whether this man is someone you've known for a while or someone you've just met," said the psychologist.
"I've known him for some time," she answered primly.
"Good. Now go on home. Your husband just called me. He was wondering where you were."
Suddenly Virginia was terrified. "YOU DIDNT TELL HIM ANYTHING I TOLD YOU, DID YOU?"
"Of course not. It isn't ethical," answered Doctor Dutton. "Besides, you don't remember what you told me.
At least that's what you just said."
"True, but just in case," said Virginia, "I said something to you I wouldn't want my husband to know, I wanted to be on the safe side."
"All right, Virginia. Don't worry about a thing. Just go on home and tell your husband you think you're going to be all right. Okay?"
She felt better when she hung up the phone. As she neared the big house where she lived with Ewing, still with Hobart Smith at the wheel, she began to get nervous and apprehensive again, though.
Just as soon as Doctor Dutton finished reassuring Virginia, he dialed the number of the Prince house. As soon as he was connected with Ewing, he began to talk in the precise, rather dry tone of voice he knew people associated with psychologists. "Mr. Prince, I had no idea I would be speaking to you again so quickly, but I have an experiment in mind concerning your wife. I'm sure you're aware of her little problem."
"Very aware," said Ewing.
"Well, then, I would suggest that you come to see me at your earliest convenience."
"Why me?" Ewing was baffled. He could see no reason for him to go to see a psychologist.
"Oh, not for emotional help, Mr. Prince. This concerns your wife. It's a little ... shall we say, unusual? I mean the treatment I'd like to suggest for Mrs. Prince."
"Can't you speak about it on the telephone?"
"Well... very well. I would like to suggest that you arrange a threesome. Or an orgy, perhaps. That is, if you think you could bear up under such an unusual procedure.
Ewing Prince smiled. His voice betrayed no hint of his smile when he spoke again, however. "I'm sure I could manage, Doctor."
The two men exchanged a few more words and Ewing Prince hung up the telephone just as Virginia and Hobart Smith drove into the circular driveway. He could see the car as it approached from the highway and the tires were crunching against the oyster shells that glistened under the last rays of the setting sun when he went out to greet them. His face was carefully composed in a cheerful smile as he shook Hobart Smith's hand after he'd kissed Virginia's cheek, and she explained how Hobart happened to bring her home.
Virginia went quickly inside while Ewing and Hobart continued to talk for a while. She didn't know that her husband invited Hobart Smith in for a drink, nor did she know anything about the conversation that took place in the big downstairs library. She didn't see Hobart again before he left, but she was pleased to know that Ewing had graciously seen to it that one of the servants had driven him to the parking lot of Prince & Princess Toys where he would pick up his own car.
Over cocktails, Virginia grew animated as she told her husband all about the work Hobart Smith was doing on his house. She kept looking into Ewing's face for some kind of jealousy, but saw nothing but love and warmth. He told her she could do over their house if she liked, when she brought the subject up, but he said he preferred not to move. He also told her it was good to see her eyes so sparkly and to hear her voice with the lilt in it that he loved so well. "I think your trip to the psychologist did you some good, darling."
"Perhaps," she said as she carefully looked into the cocktail glass instead of her husband's eyes.
Then he said, "I've been thinking about asking Hobart and a few other people in for a nice little get-together one day soon. We haven't entertained at all since we've come home. I think we should start, don't you?"
"Why, I think that'd be just wonderful, Ewing," said Virginia. She felt wonderfully refreshed, and more relaxed than she'd been in weeks. Afterward, when she learned exactly what Ewing had planned for the little 'get-together' he had mentioned so casually, she wondered if she would have been as relaxed and happy.
Chapter Twelve
"You're sure this won't harm Virginia in any way, aren't you?" asked Ewing anxiously. He was talking to Doctor Dutton, who had been consulted three times that day already.
"Man, nobody is sure of anything in this world," said Doctor Dutton. He forgot all about using the clinical tones he usually used when he spoke to people like Ewing Prince. "I'm saying it shouldn't hurt her and might knock the silly bitchiness out of her head."
"But to fuck a dog. I'm not sure I would want Virginia to be submitted to ... "
"Mr. Prince, I didn't say she should fuck a dog, in the first place. I said a pony. And I didn't say I wanted your wife to fuck a pony. Get one of those showgirls. If you don't know any, I do. I just want her to see how people do, that's all."
"But you can't really mean you believe most women go around fucking ponies," objected Ewing. "Or want to."
"I didn't say I believe any such thing, Mr. Prince. What I did say is that there isn't a woman alive who hasn't looked at the enormous prick on a horse and wondered how it would feel to be a mare. Same way when they see cows accepting a bull. Female dogs with males. Your wife doesn't want to admit there's anything normal about her. At least I think this is the way she feels, I don't really know. She loves you, but she won't allow herself to get any enjoyment out of sex with you. I don't know why, but the reason behind the way she is isn't as important as making her accept herself as a normal woman, lusty as hell.
"I thought you psychoanalysts were always seeking the reason for disturbed behavior."
"Some psychoanalysts do. I'm a psychologist. A behaviorist, if you're really interested. Here's the thing, Prince. Does it really matter why you need an operation quickly if your appendix bursts?"
"No, but I thought to get to the bottom of things was necessary in order to cure an emotional disturbance."
"Not necessarily. In fact, not at all, as far as I'm concerned. It's like this: If you have an infected tooth, it isn't important whether you lived irr a community where you received no fluoride, whether you doted on candy all your life, whether you did or didn't drink milk or brushed with salt, batshit or toothpaste. What's important is to take care of the infected tooth. Right?"
"Yes, but I don't see what an infected tooth has to do with my wife's inability to reach orgasm with me."
"It doesn't. I was just taking a shot in the dark. At any rate, would you rather have your wife fucked up for a long, long time and maybe be helped by several sessions with a psychologist or would you rather take a chance on getting to the heart of the matter right away ... knowing it may work or may not? I can't make any promises, but I think it's worth a try."
"All right. We'll do it," said Ewing Prince. It was then that he set the wheels in motion that would result in a party that cost him several hundred dollars and a considerable amount of worry and anguish. Right up until the night of the actual event, Ewing Prince was still half a mind to call the whole thing off.
The night dawned, cold and crisp and beautiful. Virginia was almost happy and excited as she dressed with care, spending more time than she usually did with her cosmetics and hair. Ewing had told her nothing about the guests except that there would be a few people she knew, but most of the men and women who would be there were people he'd known for some time. There would also be, he'd told her, a few people to entertain. She'd been curious as a child when she'd pressed him for details, but he had told her teasingly that he wanted to surprise her. She'd badgered at him to tell her what kind of entertainment they would have, but he'd not told her anything at all about the entertainers, insisting that she'd enjoy everything more if she didn't know what to expect.
She wore a white dress with a long skirt and a slit up to the left thigh, which exposed a lot of shapely leg. It was the first time she'd worn the dress, although it had been purchased on her honeymoon. There was no way in the world she could wear a bra with it, because the back was completely cut out. She felt naked and seductive and a little frightened when she surveyed herself in the mirror. She knew she looked exceptionally well in white because of her luxurious auburn hair and her somewhat ivory complexion, but when she noticed that her nipples were quite visible under the material of the dress she decided to take it off and wear something that wouldn't be quite so revealing. Ewing came into the bedroom just as she was lifting the white dress over her head. Her long slender legs were a beautiful sight to him, and the tightly curling pubic hair that was a startling contrast to the white material gave him an instant erection, but he said nothing about it.
"I'm glad you're wearing the white dress, darling," he said with a sweet smile. "You look ravishing in it and I've wondered why you hadn't worn it before."
"I'm not putting it on, I'm taking it off," she said and realized he had thought the dress was going on instead of coming off. "It looks just a little too ... whorish, maybe."
"Of course it doesn't. Please put it on," he said. "You could never look whorish, Virginia."
"I don't know," she answered, feeling threatened by some vague fear she couldn't identify. "My nipples show. What will your friends think of me?"
"They'll think you're lovely and very conscious of what a well-dressed wife of the man who owns Prince & Princess Toys should wear. I wouldn't want anyone to think my wife is wearing last year's fashions."
"Oh, Ewing, today's fashions are so flexible, people can wear anything they want to. Short or long, modest or revealing, fussy or tailored ... "
"Wear the dress, darling," he said in what she had grown to recognize as his commanding voice.
She put the dress back on and carefully smoothed the few strands of hair that had become disarranged from having taken the dress off and then put it back on again.
Although Ewing didn't say anything, Virginia realized that he was waiting for her to accompany him downstairs. She didn't hurry, but she felt aware of making him wait, which bothered her. He was gentle and sweet as always when he walked with her down the hall, then down the stairs.
A strange maid was standing at the bottom of the stairs. Virginia opened her mouth to ask what had happened to the one she expected, but Ewing anticipated her question. "Just for tonight, I've given the regular servants the night off, darling. You'll understand why very quickly."
How puzzling, thought Virginia as her husband led her through throngs of people who smiled at her and shook her hand. She was also a little surprised. She had been led to expect just a few people, but there were at least fifty guests. Ewing had made all the plans, taken care of the food and drinks and had even seen to the decor, she was thinking. Everything looked absolutely beautiful, but she was glad he'd at least made a bargain with her. She could remember how he'd smiled at her and told her that if everything went the way he planned it for their first party, she could take care of the arrangements for all the rest they ever had. She chatted with the guests and tried to keep names straight in her mind. When Hobart Smith left a group of two men and a woman and strode over to take her hand, she was gladder than she felt she had any right to be. It seemed to her that Hobart was the only friendly face in the place.
"What's wrong, Virginia?" asked Hobart when they had a couple of moments alone.
"I don't know. I guess it's just that I didn't expect so many people to be here. And of course I don't know anybody. Except you. I'm so glad you're here, Hobart."
"So am I, Virginia." She thought he gave her a strange look, but it wasn't until several hours after the party that she realized why Hobart Smith had looked at her with such an odd expression on his face. It was apparent that he'd known all along about the 'entertainment,' and of course it was just as obvious, when she finally had a chance to gather herself together and look back on the frantic hours, that he'd thought all along that she'd been fully aware of what was going to take place.
As it was, she was stunned almost to the point of fainting when Ewing announced to all the assembled guests that they were to go into the big library downstairs where they'd find seats, drinks and entertainment. For some reason, Virginia had it in her mind that her husband had arranged to have chamber music played for the party. She felt a little apprehensive, because she knew little about chamber music and was afraid she wouldn't be able to show proper appreciation.
When she arrived inside the library, she looked all around her with surprise clearly written on her face. There was a small stage at one end of the room, and all the chairs were new and different. They were arranged in loosely structured rows, and even in the semi-darkness, she could see that the chairs were more like love seats. They would each hold two people. She was standing by Ewing's side when he clapped his hands and asked for silence. When he began to speak, Virginia looked across the room and saw the psychologist, Doctor Dutton. He smiled at her, then winked. At his side was a gorgeous woman with black hair and the most superb figure Virginia had ever seen. She was wondering if that was the psychologist's wife and realized she hadn't been introduced. Then she supposed they had arrived late, and was about to cross the room when she heard the words her husband was saying. She supposed she'd heard them from the start, but it had taken a while for the meaning to sink in.
"So if everybody will choose a partner, we'll get on with the event."
"You mean I'm not to sit with you?" She looked up at Ewing and met his eyes. For a moment, they seemed too bright, too alert, and almost frightened. But the impression was short-lived and almost instantly Virginia was willing to believe she'd only imagined that there was momentary fear in her husband's eyes for that flickering instant. Certainly they were self-assured enough when he spoke-, and she was hurt to note that the customary tenderness that she loved so well in his voice was not there. "Of course, Virginia. Don't be a child. You're soon going to be thirty years old, and you must realize that husbands and wives do not cling to one another when they give parties. I don't think you were listening to me. I said it would be ladies' choice. You'd better hurry and findsomeone to sit with before you end up with a perfect bore."
"But you aren't taken," she said childishly.
"Oh, but I am. It was already arranged."
"Well, damn you," she said in order to cover her hurt. And immediately, she ran across the room and put her hand inside Hobart Smith's. He squeezed it and told her he was glad she'd chosen him.
Suddenly the few lights that had been on dimmed, and the room was plunged into total darkness. Everyone laughed nervously and groped around in the room for a second trying to locate the chairs, but then a small blue light shone from the center of the ceiling and the chairs that were as big as love seats loomed up in the darkness. Just as Virginia and Hobart Smith reached a velvet chair, the stage was illuminated with a white spotlight and a naked girl walked out on the stage.
"NO!" gasped Virginia.
"Easy," said Hobart Smith.
Virginia felt all the color draining from her face as she wondered what people would think of her. A naked girl/ Too much! Right in my own home! Virginia's thoughts rocketed around inside her head as she stared dumbfounded at the pretty blonde girl on the small stage. She was quite young, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, with enormous breasts and a slender waist and curving hips. Her legs were not exceptionally good though, thought Virginia with a touch of feminine reasoning. But the girl's face was exceptionally pretty, with wide blue eyes and a full mouth that looked both sweet and seductive. Her pubic hair was just as blonde as her hair, and it was tightly curled, although the hair on her head was not. All those details were imprinted on Virginia's mind within a split second, and then she gritted her teeth together and forced herself to look straight ahead. Her face was flaming as she kept wondering what her guests would think of her, what kind of woman would they all think she was, allowing such a thing to take place in her own home ... and then she wondered why Ewing had done such a thing and started to plan for a divorce. She was determined to remain a lady throughout the rest of the night no matter what took place, because she was not going to be remembered by those friends of his (all of whom she was convinced were a bunch of perverts except Hobart Smith) as a woman who behaved shrewishly, causing a scene and adding insult to injury.
The girl on the stage didn't do anything at all except just stand there and look pretty. Music started playing from somewhere, and then a brunette girl came out and stood beside the blonde. Then came a girl with black hair that was so black it looked almost blue. After that one came a tall woman with broad shoulders, a statuesque body that boasted breasts the size of watermelons, and a mass of flaming red hair. All the girls were stark naked.
Virginia continued to sit with her mouth firmly pressed together in a thin, prudish line. It was disgraceful, she was thinking. Downright disgraceful. To even think about sitting in her own home and having to sit through a parade of naked girls who were apparently not going to do anything but stand there and look at everyone. She knew the girls on the stage couldn't see the darkened portion of the room where the audience sat, but each of them had an expression on their face, at once lewd and knowing, that gave the impression they were looking right into Virginia's eyes.
She realized the girls hadn't been standing there doing nothing but bouncing slightly on their feet so their boobs would jiggle up and down for as long as it seemed to her they'd been, but she did wish they'd go back behind the improvised curtain and get some clothes on. Suddenly the music grew louder and four men came slowly out to join the naked girls. They didn't have any clothes on, either. The music grew softer, and Virginia began to understand that what was going to take place on stage was something absolutely shocking and obscene. Her head felt as if someone had stuck a knife in the middle of the forehead when the thought finally penetrated all the way.
THEY'RE GOING TO FUCK EACH OTHER ON THAT STAGE. THEY ARE. THEY REALLY ARE. AND RIGHT IN FRONT OF ALL THESE PEOPLE, AND EWINGISNT GOING TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT, HE'S ARRANGED IT HIMSELF, OH, DEAR GOD, WHAT HA VEI MARRIED? SOMETHING MUST BE TERRIBL Y WRONG WITH MY OWN HUSBAND. She moaned softly, sick with shame, and put her hands over her eyes. Hobart Smith murmured something to her and she squeezed his hand, grateful that he was there. It was then that it dawned on her that Hobart probably thought she knew all about Ewing's disgusting plans, and she promised herself that she would waste no time in setting him straight on that matter.
One of the girls was down on her knees, and her man was shoving his cock in her mouth. Although she wouldn't have admitted it under oath, Virginia found the sight highly stimulating, even though she was still carefully keeping her own mouth shut and her legs tightly crossed. She wished for a second that she didn't have so many things vying for her attention at once. What was taking place on the stage was like a three-ring circus. Four-ring, to be explicit. The red-headed girl was down on her hands and knees taking an enormous cock in her anus, and Virginia kept looking from couple to couple, wishing she could force herself to stop looking. But she finally decided she owed it to herself to take in everything that was going on so she could speak coherently about what her husband had forced her to sit through in her own home. In the divorce court, of course.
Her mouth flew open when she saw the brunette girl's ass gyrating madly up and down as the young man tongued her pussy. It was downright obscene, she felt. But not half as obscene as the girl with the black hair was behaving. While Virginia's eyes had been intently watching the way the good-looking young man went after the brunette's snatch, two more men had joined the black-haired girl who had started to spread her legs for the young man in what Virginia thought of as a traditional position. But now that two more men had joined the scene, Virginia wished she hadn't looked away from the girl with the blue-black hair. It was true that the only thing in the girl's pussy was a rather long, slender cock, but her mouth was now wide open and she had two cocks in it. Leaning forward so she could see better, Virginia opened her own mouth as she stared. She wondered how such a thing could happen. Then she saw that both the cocks that were sliding back and forth against each other and into the black-haired girl's mouth were rather small. The girl's hands clutched two pairs of balls and there was something savage about the way her dark eyes glinted as she greedily sucked cock.
The blonde was humping seriously backward, her smooth young ass a moving mass of flesh as she accepted the man from the rear. Virginia watched the dog-fashion proceeding for a second, then went back to staring at the black-haired girl who had two cocks in her mouth and one in her snatch. To her disbelief, she saw another man join the group and noticed that he had an extremely big cock in his hand as well as a big grin on his face. He knelt down and managed to insert his giant pole between the black-haired girl's heaving breasts.
"This is terrible," she said to Hobart Smith.
He didn't answer, but she was grateful for the comfort of his arm around her.
"It's going to go on forever," she said. "Hobart, I hope you realize I had nothing to do with this disgusting thing."
"No. I didn't know," said Hobart. "But watch it. It's very ... interesting."
Virginia nodded, slightly miffed that Hobart should find the disgraceful scene on the stage so interesting. After all, I'm right here, she thought. And it isn't as though we were strangers.
The curtain finally closed on all that gyrating, sweating, glistening mass of legs, arms, cocks, breasts and wildly working mouths, cunts, and hands on stage, and Virginia sat back in her chair with a sigh of relief on her lips. At last it's over, she thought.
Although she expected them to, the lights didn't come on. Instead, some of the strange new servants wended their way through the almost totally dark room with drinks for everyone that wanted them. Virginia declined.
The curtain on the stage went up again and Virginia went rigid. She decided she just wouldn't watch any more. All she saw was a girl with a shimmering mass of almost silvery blonde hair on her hands and knees. The other girls had been on the stage floor, but this beautiful creature was on a kind of platform, neither long enough to be considered a bed, nor short enough to be a chair. There were no arms and no back, and the thing was just big enough to allow the ravishingly beautiful creature on the stage to remain perched on it with her knees on one edge and her hands on another. The music played and Virginia told herself once more to close her eyes. She just couldn't keep them closed, though. Not with that blue light playing up and down the silken smooth skin of the shimmering blonde. Her breasts were not large, but they were perfectly shaped. There was something ethereal about the blue light that seemed to caress the girl's soft body and play about in her hair. There was also a fascinating kind of beauty to the way the naked hips and buttocks swayed in time with the music, the way her head barely moved back and forth; even though Virginia didn't like to be having such thoughts. It reminded her of Lesbians and things of that nature, which Virginia knew she was not.
She was expecting to see another man, or maybe even a group of men come to the girl, but instead, a pony came prancing on stage. Virginia, thought the girl would get up and ride the pony. Her long silvery blonde hair would almost completely cover her nude body, and Virginia was thinking about Lady Godiva.
A little short man with a round tub of a belly was leading the pony. He wore a black turtle-neck sweater and black pants. He had an evil face that made Virginia feel unclean, so she didn't look at him any more. Instead, she looked at the majestic beast. Even though the pony was not big like a horse, he had every appearance of being a young stallion. He walked proudly and lifted his hooves high as he pranced toward the kneeling blonde girl. By the time Virginia noticed that his huge dong was erect and quivering, she also noticed that she'd been wrong about her first impression, which had to do with the girl with the silvery blonde hair riding the pony. It was now obvious that the pony was going to stick that terribly hard-looking, impossibly big cock, into that girl. Virginia's legs came uncrossed. She twitched and was conscious of an itch in her pussy. It made her nervous. Looking at the pony's cock made her nervous, so she looked away from it and at the pony's proud head and the quivering nostrils.
I'm glad he isn 't going to do that to me, Virginia thought as she saw the awful, brutal-looking pony prick nudge up against the girl's slit. She realized that the evil-looking little fat man was probably the pony's trainer. The little beast had reared up on his hind feet and had actually mounted the girl. His front feet rested on either side of the girl's waist and the little trainer took one of his hands and squeezed the pony's wicked-looking cock, guiding it into the girl's unresisting hole.
When she screamed, Virginia wasn't even aware of it. Hobart Smith was, because he pulled her back in the love seat from which she had risen and patted her shoulder. Just as the pony's straining cock went plunging inside the blonde girl's cunt, Virginia reached over and grabbed Hobart Smith's penis. The cloth of his trousers annoyed her, but she managed to work the zipper down and shove the obstructing material of his shorts aside so she could get at the pulsating skin without once taking her eyes from the erotic sight of the pony, who was now definitely fucking the girl on the stage. Hobart removed his hand from Virginia's shoulder and oblingingly reached up under her dress and found her dripping pussy. Two of his fingers went into her snug hole and started stroking in and out just as the girl on stage began to swivel her ass round and round, panting and moaning all the while.
The moments passed in absolute silence except for the sounds of groans, moans, gasps and pants all around Virginia and Hobart Smith. After a few seconds, the pony whanged brutally forward, shoving the entire length of his shaft deep inside the fragile-looking blonde girl's pulsating pussy. She remained stationary for a moment, then she began to hump furiously, almost looking as though she would take the entire animal into her greedy cunt if she could. She wailed eerily as she reached a crashing climax, then fell to her face on the platform, her legs dangling awkwardly down to the floor as the pony remained inside of her, pinned to her dripping box.
"I can't stand it," said Virginia when the stage lights went off. "I can't stand another minute of this madness, ohhhhhhhhh, Hobart, I want-I want-" Suddenly Virginia started sobbing and moaning, jerking her pelvis madly. She had meant to tell Hobart Smith she wanted him to take her away from that house, but she knew she didn't want anything of the kind right then. She wanted a prick in her, and she didn't care who happened to slam it to her. Mad as it sounded, even to think about, she knew she wouldn't resist if that wicked-looking little man led the pony up to her swollen hungry cunt.
For one small space of time, her mind suddenly cleared and she realized that all around her people were fucking and sucking and carrying on in the most vile way. But it was a little like being in a mob of people who were running to get out of a fire. Even though she didn't really want to do it, Virginia kept telling herself, she had to. Because she knew she had lost all control, and suddenly she didn't even care. She felt hands lifting her, and thinking it was only Hobart, whom she had fucked a few weeks ago in desperation, she didn't resist.
The love seat wasn't big enough, so they slipped off onto the floor, and she gratefully spread her legs. Against her face she could feel something that felt suspiciously like a woman's tit, but she didn't mind once she got over the initial shock. Then she opened her mouth and wished she hadn't, because it was filled with a hard prick. She sucked it, because it was the only thing she could think of to do with it, and her mouth adored the motions and she admitted to herself that she liked to suck cock and that was all there was to it. She didn't even wonder who it was who had shoved his cock in her mouth.
In the darkness, bodies grappled with other bodies, and fingers found holes and went in. Sometimes the holes wouldn't accept the fingers, but the action went on and on. It seemed to Virginia that she was suddenly just a mere spoke in a gigantic fucking wheel. She had lost all count of her orgasms, and she had also lost all contact with Hobart Smith. She knew the one who was on top of her just at that moment couldn't be Hobart. Whoever it was had a prick almost as big as that pony's. The idea made her reach an overpowering climax that left her shuddering and sweating. She was still moaning, "Cummmmmmmitiiinnnnngggggg!" when the lights went on. Dazed, she looked up to see whose prick was soaking in her juices and almost shrieked her head off.
"Ewing! You've been fucking me! Ewing! You made me cum!"
Virginia Ayers Prince was no longer going to the psychologist. It wasn't necessary any more. She blossomed. She glowed. She was no longer bothered with strange ideas and unfulfilled, only half-expressed yearnings. Birds no longer taunted her when they flew close by and she no longer heard them screeching obscenely such things as "Virginia sucks cock, Virginia sucks cock." Instead, Virginia sometimes spoke to her husband before, during or after she had enjoyed a lusty half hour in unabashed enjoyment of sex. Smiling up at him with utter contentment, she could be heard to say, "I love your beautiful prick, darling." And sometimes she would say, as she traced the heavy purplish veins with her ringers, "You know, I adore sucking your prick, Ewing."
Sometimes they talked about the terrible chance Ewing took the night of the party. Virginia was always careful to reassure him that she was glad he'd done it, and he always agreed that he was glad, too, when he knew he'd done the right thing.
But Virginia had something on her mind that she was still too shy to talk about. Sometimes in the middle of the night she would awaken and stretch, yawn, and cuddle against her husband's sleeping body, happy to be there, pleased with life in general. She was trying to ignore the idea that kept nagging at her in the back of her brain, but she knew that sooner or later she would get around to trying what she often thought about and didn't mention.
Virginia simply couldn't get her mind off that pony.
