Ellen Brand had wanted to have sex with her husband before they went to the party. But he had gotten home too late from the office and things would have been rushed and uncomfortable so she didn't press the point.
Part of the reason for her having wanted sexual intercourse at that time had to do with setting up a mood in which she could talk to him about something very important and near to her. A hurried bout of sex would not serve that purpose in the least bit.
Now she was unusually quiet as they dressed for the evening.
"Is something wrong, dear?" John asked from where he sat on the side of the bed sewing a new shoelace into his black dress shoes. A lace always gave out for him like for anyone else when he was in a hurry. Partly because of this and its irritating quality, his question sounded more hollow than even it usually did.
"No ... nothing's wrong, John," Ellen answered automatically with the lie.
But she turned and looked at her husband who hadn't even looked up from his shoe to ask the question. It was little habits like this that seemed to get on Ellen's nerves the most. But she hardly ever mentioned them so John had no idea how irritating the little things could be to his wife.
For several long minutes Ellen sat at her dressing table watching her husband finish getting dressed.
They had been married for seven years now. They had no children, though both of them claimed that maybe it was time they had children. In fact, Ellen had gone off the pill six months before. Nothing had happened.
After seven years of marriage, John Brand maintained much of the look of strength and handsomeness that had attracted Ellen to him in the first place. The strength that his looks conveyed was carried over into his personality. He was a man of strong opinions ... at times maybe too strong, because they tended to overpower his wife's opinions at times ... and seemed to lack even the smallest blemish of self doubt.
The strength of his opinions and overall personality was matched with a physical vitality that had proved ... in business at least ... a valuable asset. And he was justly proud of his economic growth.
If he tended to brag a little too much about how he'd pulled himself up financially by his own bootstraps, Ellen could forgive him that. Most of the time anyway. Though there were times when it irritated her.
John Brand was thirty-three. He had a full head of dark wavy hair that he tended to take a little too meticulous care of. He exercised at a local gym at least three times a week and the regular exercise had managed to stave off the physical by-products of a job that now was centered mostly in one office, at a large mahogany desk. The desk had been a personal gift from Ellen when she'd heard of his last promotion. He had been surprised and heartened at her thoughtfulness. And her apparent appreciation of what he had accomplished in what was after all seven short years.
His physical exercise had had another by-product that Ellen was more than grateful of. John was an energetic and accomplished lover. He rarely failed to bring her to orgasm.
Rarely failed that is until recently. The last two months or so.
He, however, had no inkling that the apparent sexual climaxes and ecstatic thrashings of his wife during sexual intercourse had become increasing a matter of good acting on her part rather than physical release.
As Ellen watched him now, she realized what a fine husband he actually was and she felt a wave of affection build up. But it was a wave of affection coupled with a wave of pain too. A pain that she could not bring herself to discuss with him.
"Are you sure there's nothing wrong?" John asked looking up finally from the frustration of having to change shoe laces when he was in a hurry.
"I'm sure, darling," Ellen said, knowing that he had caught her staring at him. "Do you happen to have a cigarette?"
"Think so." John searched through the pockets of the business jacket he had worn during the day. Found and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one of them for each of them. "Thanks."
"Don't be long, dear," John said. "You know how the Saunders hate to have people late for their parties. Especially this one."
"I won't be long," Ellen promised.
"If this year's party is as good as last August's, we should be in for quite an evening," John said shrugging into his coat and turning to leave the room. "I'll be downstairs, dear."
"All right. It shouldn't take me more than five minutes to finish up."
When John had left the room Ellen got up from the dressing table and walked over to her closet. She was still in her bra and panties. It was a new set which she'd just bought that afternoon on impulse.
Ellen's earlier inspection of her husband prompted her to spend several moments of self inspection in front of the full length mirror attached to the back of the closet door which swung out into the room.
Physically, Ellen was almost the exact opposite of her husband. To begin with she was a natural blonde with matching light skin. She could, however, unlike some natural blondes, get a deep and even sun tan without burning. She could if die was careful. Her natural light coloring contrasted with John's dark hair and complexion which always gave the impression, even in the winter, that he had a slight tan. In the summer his tan would darken a couple of shades but would never get to be glaringly obvious.
Too, Ellen's hair was straight. It fell down her back in an unbroken waterfall-like wave. John's hair, of course, was curly.
While John was heavy set, Ellen was a slim woman. At twenty-seven she had a figure girls up to ten years younger than her would have liked.
Ellen started her inspection from the head down. She was, first of all, pleased with her face. Its only flaw seemed to be a tendency towards longness. But her height and the long blonde hair seemed to counteract that. She stood five seven and a half in her bare feet.
Her lips were full and held their own red color so well, that she had no need of lipstick at all. In fact, she only used a clear lipstick when going outdoors to keep her lips from getting chapped. Other times she didn't bother with lipstick at all.
The only makeup she did use regularly was eye makeup (she darkened her lashes and put a brown, almost unnoticeable line on her top lid) and eyebrow pencil (her eyebrows were very light and without slight darkening seemed to disappear almost in the summer when the sun bleached them a lighter color than they already were).
Her eyes were a light flashing blue that seemed always to be smiling, giving up their built-in smile only when she was in a brooding depression.
Her shoulders slanted down gracefully from a long neck. Her breasts were small enough to not really need the artificial support of a bra. Yet large enough to draw the most critical of men's eyes to their lovely shape and firm fullness.
Her nipples were small reddish brown circles that stood out rigid at the slightest provocation. Now she was wearing a thin, minimal support bra that had swirls of black lace around her nipples.
The inspection was drawing the attractive woman's mind away from the subject that had been haunting it all afternoon and she now thought of an article she had been reading in one of the woman's magazines in the doctor's office that morning. It had been about the increasing non-use of bras.
As if to distract her mind more from the problems she'd been brooding over, Ellen reached behind her back and unhooked the thin bra. She tossed it onto the dresser and rubbed her hands over the firm flesh of her breasts to erase any marks the bra had left on her.
Her eyes lowered from her breasts which now stood rigid from the brisk rubbing of her hands, down to her slim waist.
Her hips flared from the small waist with only a slight indentation where the elastic waist band of the sheer black panties pressed into the flesh.
The panties were transparent very light gray except at the crotch where black lace swirled to hide the details of her pubic mound and the blonde tufts of pubic hair.
Ellen's legs were slim, long and shapely. There was no suggestion of excess fat or slackness. And she was glad of her weekly trips to the salon where she swam, took steam baths, and was given a massage to keep her muscles firm.
Ellen hadn't wanted to admit it to John who was, by now, pacing nervously downstairs waiting for her and checking his watch every few seconds, but die had not yet decided what to wear to the Saunders' annual August party. She'd have to make up her mind quickly or risk John's irritation at having been kept waiting.
She hunted through her closet and finally settled on a summer dress with a scoop neck and flaring skirt. She slipped into it and zipped it up the back, then watched herself turn around in the corner.
A slight swell of her breasts was visible above the scoop neck. There was a slight support in the bosom of the dress. She leaned forward slightly and more of her breasts showed.
But not too much, she decided. She looked good in the dress. The material clung slightly to her hips before spreading out into the full skirt. The colors were predominantly light blue. The print was flowered, but not too cluttered or complicated.
Ellen gave her hair a quick brushing and headed down the stairs to where her husband waited for her. As she descended the stairs, she promised herself that she would not let her brooding carry over into the evening. She'd have plenty of time to work out her problems after tonight. And she curled her lips into a smile, realizing suddenly that it was easier than she thought it would be.
At John's enthusiastic whistle of appreciation, her smile lost its forcedness and became a genuine smile.
"You look great, honey," John said, snuffing out a cigarette. "I'm going to have to watch you tonight. All the guys'll be after you."
"Thank you, dear ... I think I can manage to hold them off though."
"I hope so." John took her arm and escorted her out to the car.
Yes, her problems could wait, Ellen told herself. ... It was going to be a good evening.
CHAPTER TWO
PROVOCATIONS
Peggy and Harvey Saunders threw a tremendous bash once a year around the third week in August. It had started five years before for no apparent reason. They had just decided to throw a huge party to which they invited almost everyone they knew and got along with.
Each year they sent out invitations that were especially printed with art work that Peggy Saunders did herself. Each year they looked forward to the party all summer. Each year when the party was over they felt as if the summer were over too.
Most everyone who came regularly to the Saunders' annual bash had come to see the party as a signal of the end of the summer and the coming of fall.
The party had come almost to be a ritual of the crowd who attended each year. And if everyone got a little too drunk and flirting grew into snatched passionate embraces between people married to different partners than the ones sharing the fleeting passion of the embraces, that was all right as long as things didn't get completely out of control.
The party had become almost a ritual of free wheeling partying that had not, as far as the Saunders knew, ever caused any problems among any of the married couples who attended.
Passionate kisses and even some pretty heavy petting was quite acceptable and as far as the Saunders figured, did no harm whatsoever.
Many of the couples felt privately, along with the Saunders, that this yearly letting loose of pent up frustrations and temptations even though it was seldom carried as far as the ultimate actual physical consummation of adultery, served as a safety valve.
"Such things ... or rituals ... are not unheard of in certain so-called primitive societies," Harvey Saunders had explained one evening when the Saunders and the Brands had gotten together for a dinner party. And the conversation had turned to the Saunders' annual bash that was then only a couple of weeks off.
"How do you mean, Harv?" John Brand had asked in one of his rare shows of interest in something not connected with computers which were his major interest in life and his livelihood.
"There is at least one society in the South Pacific that I know of," Harvey went on, "that has an annual festival like the Mardi Gras. It lasts for about three days and takes place when the planting has been completed. One of the major characteristics of this festival is the suspension of the rules against adultery. In fact, it is expected that those married to each other will have sexual relations with those not their husbands or wives during the festival. The object of this whole thing-beyond its religious significance for them which I don't remember anything about-is quite practically to let the partners in a marriage for three days at least live out their desires for others."
"You mean," Ellen asked incredulously, "that if we lived there that during this festival John would search out other women, even Peggy, for a bed partner, and I would search out or succumb to other men's advances?"
"That's right ... but," Harvey cautioned, "such affairs, if they can be called affairs at all, last only for the duration of the festival and there are certain courtship procedures that go along with it. I understand that it works out very well in that society and the rates of adultery outside this festival-as with the rate of divorce-is almost nonexistent."
"I don't know," Peggy said, "it sounds dangerous to me. Doesn't it to you, Ellen?"
"I don't know ... it might be fun." But she laughed immediately because the very thought of such a thing was really funny-ridiculous might have been a better word.
"The point I started to make," Harvey said, "was that our party acts in kind of the same way-though I might be analyzing it too much."
"I'm afraid that you are," John said.
"It was just a curious connection that my mind made," John went on. "I really didn't mean it as seriously as all that."
* * *
All the talk of adultery and near adultery and couples pairing off with partners not their own by marriage completely misinterprets the party. It gives it an air that would make Harvey Saunders' explanation of the similarities between his yearly bashes and the South Sea Islanders Adultery Festival seem much more accurate and descriptive than such a comparison actually was.
Because, above all, the Saunders' yearly party was a way to blow off steam. A way to let everything go for one last time before getting back down to the daily grind of work that would follow in the fall.
In that way, it was in fact a ritual and had a very tribal aspect to it.
Sex or extra-marital flirtations were only a by-product of the steam blowing. In fact, most everyone at the parties was so involved in pursuing their own impulses for fun that they paid little attention to what anyone else was doing-anyone outside the people they were temporarily involved with at the moment.
However, as Harvey Saunders had finally decided, trying to analyze the annual blast was not only hopeless but divided the whole thing into fragments that made little if any sense when viewed against the actuality. And that actuality, the phenomenon of the Saunders' yearly party was getting underway as Ellen and John Brand pulled into the driveway.
* * *
"You're the last car that'll fit back here," Harvey called to them as they pulled behind the house and maneuvered into the one remaining parking place next to the garage.
Ellen and John locked the car and went towards their friend.
Ellen and Harvey exchanged friendly kisses. John shook hands with Harvey.
"I'll give you a hand with the sawhorse," John said after the handshake.
"Peggy's in the kitchen, Ellen. Why don't you go in?"
Harvey and John took each end of the large sawhorse and half-carried, half-dragged it out to the entrance of the long driveway.
They set it up across the entrance and hung a luminous sign on the front instructing all comers to park their cars on the street.
"Sawhorse gets heavier every year," Harvey complained, puffing a little from the effort.
"You just forget from year to year how heavy it is, that's all," John reassured him.
"Sure."
John liked Harvey Saunders quite a bit. Though they were in completely different fields and seldom discussed their work with each other. Or maybe that was why they seemed to get along so well. They didn't have to burden each other with shop talk.
Harvey was thinner built than John, but he was developing a slight pot belly though he was only thirty-one. He worked in publishing and always seemed excited about some book or other that the firm was going to publish, but beyond that John knew little of what his friend did from nine to five ... and later.
He did know that his friend did not share John's interest in physical fitness and thus had succumbed to the office syndrome, as John called it, of slightly flabby muscles and the beginnings of too much extra fat.....
Harvey did everything with a vengeance though. He drank too much when he drank. Smoked too much all the time and guzzled coffee at an amazing rate of fifteen cups a day.
About the only thing John did know about Harvey's background was that Harvey had started out to be a writer, but had ended up in publishing because he had never made it in any way worth mentioning.
Harvey had told him one night in a drunken depression that he'd had one novel published, It had been reviewed in a couple of out of town papers. And had only gotten mediocre reviews.
"I can work magic with other people's books, but my own just don't work. I can't judge my own stuff and those who can-or think they can-don't judge it as very good."
One other fact John knew about Harvey. Harvey hadn't even tried to write a book in the five years they'd known him though once in a while he would talk about a book he intended to write. He never actually started to write it and months later would be talking about a completely different project that had his excitement up.
Each time he'd tell everyone that "This time I'm really going to do it."
But he never did. Though he was apparently very successful in the work he did do at the publishing company.
Harvey lit a cigarette and offered John one. John accepted and started up the driveway with his friend.
"This is going to be the best party yet," Harvey said, surveying the cars that were already in place around the garage.
"No doubt about that," John said, meaning it. Each year's party was better than the last. Or at least everyone thought so after each party.
"Shall we join the girls?" Harvey asked.
John nodded and they went up the back stairs and into the kitchen.
Peggy had Ellen helping her put chips and small sandwiches into bowls and out on plates.
John went over to Peggy and put his arms around her, planting a large noisy kiss on her cheek. She turned around and pressed against him, returning his kiss.
John could feel the pressure of her large breasts and slight belly against him.
"What'd you have to bring my husband in for? We could have been alone," she teased, kissing him again on the cheek and turning back to the work table.
"Someday," Harvey said, "we're going to have to teach these two a lesson, Ellen." He smiled broadly.
"Anytime you're ready, Harv. I'll be down to Heartbreak Motel so fast you'll wonder what happened," Ellen said, returning his smile and winking.
They'd had the same teasing conversation hundreds of times before. Yet not one of the four had any real intention of having an affair with their opposite sex of the other couple.
Harvey, who was prone to analyze anything, anytime, given the opportunity, believed that one of the benefits of such inter-couple flirtations was the reassurance of each mate that his partner in marriage was still attractive to members of the opposite sex.
Sure, he'd had fleeting glimpses of what it might be like to make love to Ellen and he was sure John had thoughts occasionally of having sex with Peggy. But everything seemed to be well balanced between them and none of the four would have hazarded the break in their friendship no matter how good in bed they daydreamed the other's partner was.
"Come on," Harv said, "let's save the sex for later. We've got guests to talk to."
"You two go ahead and Ellen and I will join you as soon as everything's ready," Peggy said, looking up from her work of arranging sandwiches on a tray.
"Well, I for one would not be at all adverse to filling my hand with-"
"A drink." Harvey finished John's sentence.
"Right, a drink." John kissed Ellen goodbye on the neck and followed Harvey out and back down the back stairs.
* * *
The Saunders were fortunate enough to have a large rectangular backyard. It swept back from the garage, back to a set of railroad tracks. A high wooden brown picket fence surrounded the yard and lights hung from the fence now casting their colored illumination over the wide lawn.
Behind the garage, and facing the expanse of lawn there was a long table covered with a tablecloth that was to serve as the bar. To avoid having to tend bar himself or talk one of his guests into doing it, Harvey Saunders each year hired a bartender from a local catering service.
There were several couples already at the bar. Others were grouping in fours and sixes around the lawn, talking and drinking.
Armed with a scotch and soda for Harvey and a gin and bitter lemon for John, the two men set off to greet those who had already arrived.
"I've got a special surprise for tonight," Harvey told his friend as they made their way towards the first group of people.
"Oh?"
"Promise not to tell?"
"Swear it."
"I've hired a belly dancer for later," Harvey confided in a conspiratorial tone.
"Well, well, sex rears its ugly head in suburbia," John teased.
"Wait till you see her-you'll flip. She's really fantastic."
"If you picked her, I'm sure die is," John said and they covered the last couple feet to the first group of people.
Naomi turned out to be the name of the girl Harvey had hired as a belly dancer for the party. John met her early in the evening.
She was a tall, slim, but large breasted girl whose national origin was almost impossible to guess. John decided that a mixture of the blood of several races must be running through her veins.
The mixture had produced ail excitingly beautiful and graceful woman. A woman who drew stares not only from the men but from the women as well.
Her hair was long, straight and black. Her skin the shade of a golden suntan, her eyes were deep, sparkling, and as black as her hair. Her lips were full of color and full. Her tongue had the habit of darting out of her mouth and flicking over her full bottom lip whenever she paused in a conversation. John could not decide whether it was a deliberate attempt to be sexual or an unconscious gesture that just happened to call attention to the girl's overabundance of sex appeal.
Unlike most American women who tend to stand rather apart from the men they are talking to, Naomi stood very close to John as they were introduced and left to work out the beginning phases of their conversation with nervous self consciousness coupled with determination to know each other better at least for the evening.
Later, after the party, if John had been asked what he had talked about with Naomi, he could not have given an answer. Yet, during the conversation, he felt completely involved with her and fascinated with the conversation.
The conversation lasted until Naomi announced that she had to go get ready for her dance. She promised to come back and "talk some more," when she got through and John had a fleeting vision of their two bodies locked in sexual embrace.
CHAPTER THREE
A QUICKIE COME
Despite her promise to herself that she would forget any problems at least for the evening, Ellen was slipping slowly into a deep depression as the party progressed. The ground around her appeared to be rising in a gathering wave of excitement.
For several long minutes Ellen stood by the edge of the circle which had formed around the young dancing girl that Harvey had hired for the evening. Ellen, as she stood there, was very conscious of the firm pressure of a young man's hand around her waist. The hand rested on her hip and she could feel the warmth of his body close to her left side.
His attention too was on the tall dark and quite beautiful girl who had made her way to the center of the circle.
Ellen looked around fleetingly for her husband, John, but couldn't spot him anywhere in the crowd. Then she turned her attention back to the beautiful dark girl in the center.
Naomi had changed into a brief costume that wasn't as much an eastern costume as a representative of one. Her hair was loose and flowing down her almost bare back. Her face held an expression of serenity. Her body stayed quietly still for several minutes before the dance started.
The costume itself consisted of a halter of a metallic looking gold material. The material hardly seemed to cover the nipples and undersides of her large, melon-like breasts. Yet the garment uplifted the flesh so that her breasts bulged out of the top of her costume and quivered as she started to dance.
The bottom part of the costume consisted only of what seemed a g-string and transparent harem pants-billowing folds of material that covered yet revealed completely the muscular contours of her legs.
Her whole body seemed well muscled and in perfect proportion to the rest save for the breasts that seemed if anything, a bit too large for the rest of her body. No one, however, seemed to complain about the outsized breasts.
Ellen could actually feel the sexual tension in the man who stood so close beside her with his arm circling her waist. It seemed to her to be a dual tension, partly for the young dancing girl whose hips seemed determinedly to emulate the rhythmic undulations of sexual intercourse, and partly for Ellen herself, whose breasts she realized, pressed against the muscle of his arm....
Ellen watched the performance for several minutes and tried to concentrate on it to the exclusion of everything else, including her growing depression.
She wished that the party had not been tonight. Wished that she was at home with John, buried deep in his arms, his penis inside her, pumping her from the cruel waves of depression.
Yet she knew that it would be several hours before they could leave the party without drawing undue attention to themselves. And drawing attention to herself was the last thing Ellen wanted right now.
"Excuse me," she said softly to the man who stood so close and intimately beside her. She gently reached her hand to his and removed his hand from her body. Then without any further explanation she moved away from the crowd and walked quietly to the house.
Ellen wasn't sure at first why she had broken away from the crowd, but told herself that she just wanted to be alone for a while. To recharge, is how she put it in her mind. To recharge enough so she could face the socializing that she'd have to do during the next couple hours. The prospect was not one she looked forward to.
The house was almost completely deserted. Or at least seemed so. Everyone had gone out to the yard to watch the young dancer so Ellen was completely alone. She made her way down the stairs to the basement which had been made over into a play room. Light wood paneling covered all of the walls. The furniture was of a style that could have been a play room or on a porch. The chairs and sofa were wrought iron, the cushions a green vinyl.
Ellen sat down on the couch and lit a cigarette. She sat with her knees together and bending forward with her arms resting on her legs as she smoked.
Faintly from outside the sound of the crowd of partiers filtered through the walls of the house and reached her. The sounds of obvious approval for the young dancing girl seemed only to deepen her depression.
* * *
"Ellen?"
Ellen didn't know how long she had been sitting there in the playroom when she heard her name called. At first she thought it was John, her husband, but when the voice came again she realized it was not her husband at all.
"I'm down here," she called back up the stairs, not moving from where she sat. She didn't know why she bothered to answer, but she had. And she wasn't at all sure she wanted the man to join her.
Ellen heard him coming down the stairs and when she knew by the sound that he had reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked up slowly.
It was, of course, the same man who had been standing close to her with his arm around her waist. Now for the first time she really looked at him.
He was older than she was, but not very noticeably so. He was tall and obviously slightly out of shape. His features were really pretty average. A straight nose but nothing else that could be noted. He was dressed in plain gray slacks and a blue sport shirt.
Ellen had to remember what his name was. Finally she got it: Harold Thomson. She also remembered that he had told her this was his first party at the Saunders.
Ellen was still sitting, leaning forward with her arms resting on her knees. As she watched his face, she noticed that Harold Thomson was looking at the top of her dress.
She looked down herself and saw that the material was completely away from her breasts and all of her breasts were showing, including the nipples which she was surprised to see stood out rigid from the round flesh.
She smiled at him without knowing why and sat up a little to ruin his view.
"I was worried about you," he said simply, but self consciously.
"Oh?"
"I thought you might be sick or something," he went on nervously. He had a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Now he looked around rather nervously, looking for a place to put down the drink or the cigarette, but found none.
"Could I have a sip of your drink, please?" Ellen asked, noticing that his glass was more than three-fourths full and suddenly wanting a drink very much.
"Sure ... sure," he said.
Ellen got up from the couch realizing as she did that she'd bent forward as part of the motion of getting up and that his eyes had once more focused on her exposed breasts and their turgid nipples.
"Thanks," she said, walking over to him and lifting the glass gingerly from his grasp. He took a nervous drag from his cigarette, located an ash tray at last and snuffed it out meticulously.
Then he was standing very close to her again. His arms circled around her waist and he pulled her body gently against his as die finished what she wanted from his drink.
Ellen could feel herself pressed against him. She could feel the demanding bulge of his penis, erect and pressing outward from his pants.
She knew that he was going to try to kiss her and in the same instant knew that she would make no attempt to stop him.
His arms tightened around her body, flattening her breasts against his chest. Then his lips went to the side of her neck. Chills jumped through her body from the point where his lips contacted her flesh.
She felt the bulge of his large prick pressing more fervently against her and spread her legs a little so its bulk could fit between her thighs.
His lips continued to travel up her neck, then over her face until at last they found her lips and pressed insistently against them.
Instinctively, Ellen allowed her lips to part and felt his thick tongue shoot between them, searching out her own. Her own tongue leapt out willingly to engage his. Her body pressed against him, her hips rotating slightly.
One of his hands traveled up her body to cup her right breast and Ellen felt the first great surge of sexual desire building deep within her.
This is crazy, she told herself. I don't want this man inside me.
But the urgency of her body belied her rationalizations.
She felt his hands moving to the zipper at the back of her dress and knew that within a minute her breasts would be naked to his view and .touch.
This is crazy, her mind repeated to herself. I can't be doing this. But her mouth sought out his once more and this time her tongue was the aggressor.
She felt his fingers pulling down the zipper at the back of her dress, then felt the flesh of his fingers against the bareness of her back.
She drew back from Harold Thomson, this man in front of her whom she hadn't known for more than a couple of hours. Her arms hung at her sides and she just stood there as his fingers hooked into the material of her light summer dress and pulled it off her shoulders then down her arms until the dress hung from her waist only.
For several seconds Thomson stood there, his eyes feasting on the full proud breasts and their flaming nipples that stood naked before him.
Then his hands came up and cupped the round mounds. The nipples pressed out into his palms. Ella closed her eyes and concentrated on the delicious sensations that his hands were igniting in her flesh.
When she opened her eyes once more she saw that he had brought his mouth to one of the nipples and had planted it deep between his lips!
Her hands went to the back of his head and pressed his face against her abundant flesh, her fingers running over his hair, keeping him to her breasts.
Thomson guided her to the couch where she had been sitting when he'd first come down to find her. One hand brought her up against him while the other massaged her left breast vigorously. Their lips moulded to each other, their tongues searching each other out in their passion.
Surges of passion started sweeping through Ellen's body as his caresses on her breasts became more insistent and his tongue continued to engage her in deep sexual kisses that she could not resist.
Now his hand was on her knee, caressing the flesh on the inside of her leg. Instinctively she spread her legs so that his hand could work its way up to the quivering flesh of her thigh to where the moist throbbing mound awaited his touch.
Her hand reached out and found the bulge of his penis at the front of his trousers. Her fingers gripped it and started rubbing its length as the man pressed the lower part of his body firmly into her grasp.
His hand was further up her thigh then, moving feather-like over the firm flesh of her inner thighs, fingers just short of her lace covered mound.
Ellen's fingers worked at the zipper of the man's fly until she got it open. Then her fingers moved into his pants and touched for the first time the bare flesh of his prick as it pressed out.
She guided the large shaft from its confines, bringing it out into full view. Her hand circled its shaft and rubbed up and down, up and down in a firm steady motion she knew would increase his pleasure.
She felt the first tentative touch of his fingers against her damp mound. Then she felt his hands pulling down the panties that still covered her moist cunt.
Soon she was bare under his touch. His long fingers pressed into the deep hole between her legs, finger fucking her as her hand massaged his prick.
He's going to fuck me, Ellen thought suddenly. It was the first time she had admitted to herself what was happening to her ... at least the first time she had admitted it fully to herself.
Her dress was bunched up at her waist. Her legs were spread and she knew that he would lower himself onto her, driving his hard cock deep into her hole.
"Please," she said suddenly, "please don't wait. Please hurry."
She arched her back fully, exposing her wet and waiting cunt to his view.
"Oh God," she started moaning, "Oh God, please ... please fuck me."
She was startled at her own words. She'd never talked like that even in bed with her husband. Never in her life had she come right out and asked-begged even-a man to fuck her.
The man started positioning himself between her spread thighs. Her hand stretched out to his cock and guided it home towards her hole.
As she felt the bulge of its head contact the throbbing entrance to her cunt she felt him pause.
"Don't!" she cried out, unaware that he would have little knowledge of what she didn't want him to do. It sounded, in fact, more like she was telling him not to complete the act they had been drawn so constantly to since the first tongue-thrusting kiss.
He paused as if undecided whether to go on or not. Was she backing out at the last minute? Backing out, scared to consummate the act she'd pressed towards?
"Oh damn it," she cried suddenly, "fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!"
Ellen felt the full length of his hard, long prick jam deep into her waiting cunt. She raised her hips in response to his first thrust.
I did it, Ellen said to herself. My God, he's fucking me. Another man has his prick in me. She kept repeating the fact to herself as if that was the only way she could make herself believe that it was actually happening and not a dream or fantasy.
She could feel the man's hot, liquor-spiced breath against her face as he sprawled between her legs, his buttocks slamming up and down, the driving force behind the heavy pounding of his prick.
Ellen's legs wrapped around the man's waist as if trying to pull him harder into her, but his thrusts were burying his throbbing cock completely in the muscular tunnel of her thrashing cunt.
Deep moans were coming from somewhere in Ellen's throat as her body twisted and gyrated under the relentless pounding of the man's heavy cock.
"Oh yes, oh yes," she called out to him as his rhythm increased on top of her. The bulbous head of his prick slammed deep into her, the shaft of his cock spreading the muscles of her cunt.
Everything seemed to be fading into insignificance around Ellen except the continuing and relentless sensation of cock in her cunt. In and out, in and out, she concentrated on the unending motion inside her. For the first time in days-even longer-she felt completely real, felt as if she were something more than a phantom figure floating through an endless succession of days and nights.
She felt the beginnings of her climax gather strength deep inside her body where the prick continued its pounding and thrashing. She felt herself lifting up towards the man as his strokes became faster and incredibly stronger and stronger.
"Don't hold back," she called, "Come ... come in me ... please."
Seconds after his final thrashing started, the gyrations of her own climax joined his. Her ass cheeks seemed to leap up off the cold vinyl of the couch. Her legs flew around in the air to each side of the fucking body between her legs. Her breathing rasped through her throat.
"God ... God ... harder ... oh God, harder ... fuck me harder," she cried, meeting each of his great thrusts with her own.
Then the man jammed hard into her and froze at the peak of his final thrust.
The walls of her cunt had become so sensitive, Ellen could feel the pumping of his cock, feel the stream of milky white fluid pour out into her.
Harold Thomson seemed to collapse on top of her. His breath now blew its liquor-scented vapors on her neck and shoulders as he slowly recovered from the exertion of pounding his cock and seed deep into her cunt.
For several long minutes they didn't talk.
"We'd better get back to the others," Ellen said pressing him away from her.
She quickly retrieved her panties, slipped into the black lace and refastened her dress.
"I'll be right with you," Harold Thomson told her, heading into the bathroom that was only a yard away from the couch on which their bodies had thrashed together in the ritual grappling of sexual intercourse.
"I don't think we should stay together," Ellen said matter-of-factly.
Harold Thomson seemed take aback. He stood there by the bathroom door for seconds, his pants open, his now flaccid penis still outside his clothes.
"I'll call you," he said finally and went into the john before she had a chance to answer.
Ellen hurried upstairs. From outside she could still hear the encouraging shouts of the encircling crowd as the girl danced in the middle of them.
Had it been only a few minutes? Ellen wondered. The dance was still going on so it must have taken a matter of say five minutes for them to make love ... no, she decided that was not the right term ... for them to fuck.
It had seemed longer-much longer. Ellen felt as if the party might even be over when she went upstairs. Then as she realized that only minutes had passed, she realized that it also a good thing that it had not been as long as she'd thought.
She wouldn't have awkward explanations to make when people asked where she'd been.
Ellen made her way into the crowd until she could see the dancing girl. With a shock she realized that the girl was dancing now in only the brief stretch of g-string. Her halter was gone. The magnificent orbs of her quivering breasts shown round and inviting in the artificial colored lights.
The men in the crowd were encouraging her to take off the last of the garments, yet the girl continued to refuse and minutes later finished her dance and made her way out of the crowd.
For a second Ellen thought of trying to find John, but then she decided against it and made straight for the bar by the garage.
She needed a drink now, needed one quite badly. The men around the bar were only too glad to see that she got all the drinks she wanted.
CHAPTER FOUR
SUCK IT TO 'EM
"Some party, huh?" John said.
It was the next morning. Or rather, early the next afternoon, for they both had slept until a little after twelve o'clock.
Ellen sat across the kitchen table from her husband and stared down at the dark liquid surface of the coffee in her cup.
"What'd you say, dear?" she asked, lifting the cup to her lips.
"Some party, huh?" John repeated. There was a dull ache behind his eyes. He'd taken two aspirins when they'd gotten home but it didn't seem to have helped much, even when he repeated the dose on getting up.
"Sure," Ellen said, looking at him for the first time, "some party."
For a time they both sat opposite each other taking fragile sips of the steamy black liquid they both hoped would bring them back to normal.
When Ellen had awakened this morning she had been filled with a strange sensation of anxiety. For a long time she couldn't quite track it down to its source. Much of the night before was a muddle in her still half-sleeping brain. Then as she continued to think on it, she realized that the anxiety was in large part a guilt for something she had done at the party the night before. But still she could not remember really what it was that she had done that now was haunting her with anxious guilt.
John had not been awake yet when she first opened her eyes and started the search for the basis of her strong guilt feelings, so she padded out of the bedroom in the soft white negligee she remembered putting on the night before but could not remember the reason for putting it on. She sat in an overstuffed chair in the living room and dragged masochistically at the first cigarette of the day.
Her mouth felt like a disaster area: harsh, gravelly and tom apart. Her body ached numbly and she wished that she had not drunk so much after....
After what? she asked herself. What happened last night anyway?
She lay her head back and let a stream of smoke escape her mouth.
There had been a man. Yes, that was it. There had been this man and she had lain back, spread her legs and let him fuck her.
With a frightening abruptness the whole scene of her on the, couch, legs spread, skirt bunched about her waist while Harold Thomson pounded his large prick into her cunt came back to her.
With the image also came an intensification of the anxiety.
Oh God, she thought, what the hell did I do that for? Why ... why?
* * *
Now she sat quietly across the table from John and concentrated on getting down the hot coffee.
She couldn't very well just blurt it out now. Not until John felt better at least.
Then again, why did die have to tell him at all? Maybe she should just forget it. Pretend it didn't happen and he'd never learn about it.
At least die couldn't see how he could ever learn about it if she didn't tell him.
"Is there something wrong?" John asked, finishing off his first cup of coffee.
"No, I just feel fragile," Ellen lied. "Let me get some more coffee and we can go into the living room," she said and got up to refill the cups.
"No, I'll get it," John said, pushing himself away from the table. He took the cup from her hand. "You go ahead into the living room."
* * *
John took longer than he had to, to fill the cups again. He didn't go out into the living room until he had finished the cigarette.
He was worried about Ellen. She'd seemed so withdrawn the last few days. And last night at the party she'd acted terribly depressed as if there were something very important to her that was eating at her.
He hadn't wanted to press it last night before the party, but he knew that today he would have to. Yet the idea of pressing her for her problems did not at all appeal to him. He didn't like getting into an emotional turmoil with other people's problems, not even his wife's.
Basically, John figured that if he could handle his own emotions, why couldn't everybody else handle theirs as well.
"Oh hell," he said out loud to the kitchen and went into the living room.
"Thanks," Ellen said, accepting the coffee. She was sitting on the soft, overstuffed couch. The white nightgown was wrapped around her as if she were cold. But it was almost too warm in the house, at least for John.
"You see that dancing girl at the party last night?" John asked finally.
"Yes, I watched her for a time," Ellen admitted. "She was good."
"Yes, she was Really got those guys uptight. They all wanted to get in her."
"And you didn't?" Ellen asked because it was the first thing that came to mind and not because she really cared about the answer.
"Of course I felt stimulated," John admitted.
But he stopped there. He sure as hell wasn't going to tell her about the rest of it, though there hadn't been too much more.
He'd rejoined Naomi after she'd completed the dance. She had slipped back into a skirt and blouse though she had not bothered to wear a halter of any kind. Her nipples were visible through the thin material of the blouse, standing out rigidly.
She'd hooked her arm in his and they had walked around the yard off into the darker portion where the lights ended and no one else seemed to want to go, though he suspected there were other couples out there.
As they went into the shadows, John turned the young dancer around and pulled her to him. Her full body pressed full length against him as she lifted her lips to his to be kissed.
Her tongue responded eagerly to his and their mouths locked together. He could feel the giant swell of her breasts against his chest.
She ground her pubic mound against him and he responded excitedly.
His hand found the opening of her blouse and slid in over the bare flesh of her breasts. Her nipples felt hard against his palms as he massaged the soft flesh presented to him.
As they'd kissed passionately, he'd slid his hand down and up between her legs. Her thighs closed over his hand, then relaxed again.
They'd petted passionately for over half an hour, yet the young girl would not let him get beyond the petting stage. He had tried to pull down her panties and bury his fingers deep into her but she had shoved his hand away.
Eventually they broke it up and went back to the rest of the group.
* * *
"You probably had her out in the bushes," Ellen said half kiddingly and half hoping that he would admit that he had in fact had sex with the dancer so that her sin would have been less by comparison.
"No, I didn't," John said. "Why, did you have sex with someone?"
John didn't really intend it as a serious question. He had thought at times that his wife might be capable of having sex with another man, but had never taken the possibility too seriously.
Ellen didn't answer for a long time. She tried to smile and pretend it was a joke, yet she couldn't help but feel the harsh anxiety return.
"Yes, I did," Ellen said suddenly, frightened at the sound of the words and more than a little surprised that she said them.
"Oh?" John was sure that she was kidding. But then why had die paused so long? "On top of the piano, I'll bet," he continued, trying to make it into a joke even if it hadn't been intended as one.
"No...." Ellen started slowly. She couldn't bring herself to look directly at her husband. Instead die stared down into the cup of coffee which she held half-emptied in her hands.
"It was in the basement," Ellen said finally, "on the couch in the basement."
"What?" John said incredulously. "You mean you're actually serious?"
"Yes, I'm serious."
"You actually had sex with some guy in the basement at the party?"
"That's right," Ellen said. She felt anger starting to rise in her now but couldn't tell the source of the anger or a reason for it.
"My God."
"I was sitting down on the couch, smoking a cigarette," she started, not hearing his exclamation, "and this guy came down ... he came down and fucked me right there on that cold green couch."
Ellen stopped. She lit another cigarette and waited to see what John's reaction would be. Or if he would even believe her.
"Just like that, huh?" John said suddenly. His voice sounded harsh as if he were trying to control anger but it forced its way out anyway.
Ellen didn't answer.
John waited to see if she was going to answer. As he waited he lit a cigarette. Without realizing it he started pacing the floor in front of the overstuffed couch on which Ellen now sat.
When Ellen didn't answer, John went on.
"Just like that, huh. You just pulled up your skirt, pulled down your pants and spread your legs for him. Just like that."
Still Ellen wouldn't say anything. She just sat there smoking a cigarette of her own. She hardly even looked at him as he talked.
"Aren't you going to say something?" John demanded, his voice rising.
"There's nothing to say," Ellen answered softly. Her shoulders were hunched forward and she was sitting with her legs together, her arms resting on her legs. It was almost exactly the same position as she had sat the night before when Harold had found her.
"Oh, you don't think there's anything to say. Well godamnit, I think you'd better fucking think of something to say," John blurted. He snuffed his cigarette out harshly in a glass ashtray and immediately lit another one. He continued walking back and forth in front of his wife as if waiting for some response on which he could pounce.
An angry painful silence stretched between the two people-one that John apparently couldn't tolerate.
"How is it that you can't find something to say?" he asked. "You go out acting like a whore, spreading your legs open to anyone who happens to come along and then you say you have nothing to say ... for christsake ... just for christsake."
"I shouldn't have told you," Ellen said finally in a soft submissive voice.
"Oh, that'd be great, wouldn't it?" John shot back angrily, "that would be just great. You go out and fuck around but don't tell me about it. That sure would be better. That'd make it alright."
"I didn't say that," Ellen pleaded. "I just meant that I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Well, you should have goddamned well thought of that before you opened your legs to that guy-whoever he was. I don't even want to know."
"It wasn't like that," Ellen protested, knowing that she'd lost contact with him, and trying to work out a way to regain that contact.
"No?" John, who had been walking away from her in his repetitive journey from one side of the room to the other, turned back to face her. "Well then now, you can tell me just how it was."
"John, don't," Ellen pleaded. She didn't want to carry the thing any further. "Can't you just know I made a mistake and let it go at that?"
"No, I can't just admit that you made a mistake and let it go at that. For christsake, you went out and fucked with some other guy. It's not like you spilled milk or something ... you fucked some guy ... probably some guy you didn't even know."
Abruptly he was in front of her. He reached down and ripped the white nightgown away from her body, then slapped her viciously across the face. She just sat there.
Completely nude now, Ellen didn't even look up.
"Come on, tell mp about it . ... I want to know how it happened ... I want to know what happened."
Ellen bit her lip to keep herself from bursting into tears. She could feel the pressure of the tears in her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could on keeping them from spilling out.
"Go on, tell me about it," John demanded. He lit the third cigarette from the butt of the second one. He didn't even feel the smoke in his throat.
"It was just a guy," Ellen said softly, finally feeling she had gained some control over the strong impulse to cry.
"Oh? Just a guy."
"I was in the basement and he came down to see if I was all right ... it just happened ... that's all there is to it ... it just happened."
"You just fell onto your back like a whore and spread wide, huh?"
"Okay, I'm a whore. What do you want from me? A confession signed in blood?" Ellen was surprised at her own anger. She felt so completely alone and she wanted to strike out at something, anything.
"You want the measurements of his prick too?" Ellen asked, giving in to anger. "You want to know what it felt like? If he was better than you? It just happened. ... He came down and I took my panties off, pulled up my skirt and he fucked me ... stuck his big prick into my cunt as hard as he could ... fucked me just like that."
"You stupid bitch," John yelled and slapped her again. Then his hand dove down between her legs and grabbed at her furry mound. Her legs were tightly together.
"Come on, spread them," he yelled at her. "I've earned my time with you. You want to be a whore ... well, I want my time with you."
His hand continued to burrow between her legs. Slowly she let them fall open.
His fingers dug into her cunt instantly.
"Come on baby, I've paid for you. It's my turn right now."
He forced her down onto the couch and pressed her legs apart.
His right hand went to the front of his pants and he unzipped. He didn't bother to take his pants off all the way. He just pulled his erect penis out of the fly and went down on top of her.
His fingers widened the entrance to her cunt and he jammed his swollen prick deep up into it. Her cunt was well moistened but he didn't pull back.
Ellen lay under him. Her legs were spread and she could feel the heavy weight of his prick digging into her cunt painfully as his first thrust brought him full into her tight, contracted hole.
Ellen let her head fall to one side away from John so he couldn't see. Now she let the tears come. They welled up over the rim of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
His heavy body continued to pump into her between her spread thighs.
"Fuck ... fucking whore," she heard John repeat over and over.
His prick pounded harder and faster into her, in and out, in and out.
Then she felt his last thrust and felt the thick semen spill out into her.
John got up immediately, tucked in his penis and re-zipped his fly.
"Go get dressed," he said, "I'm going out for a while."
Ellen lay on the couch for a long time and continued to cry.
CHAPTER FIVE
DIRTY BUSINESS
"That's about all that I can tell you until we have a chance to do some further testing," he told her. His tone was serious but friendly.
Doctor Thalenger stabbed at the tobacco in his pipe and relit it, making a time consuming ritual of relighting the pipe to give Ellen Brand a chance to compose herself and think of any questions she might want to ask.
"You mean I can't even have children?" she asked finally. That was what had been bothering her all weekend. Yet it hadn't been final then. The doctor hadn't gotten the final results of the test yet. Now he had them. Now it seemed about as definite as it could get.
"That will depend on how you respond to treatment," the doctor told her. "I'll do anything I can and there is an excellent chance that your problem will clear up under proper treatment. I want to assure you that you're not the only woman who'd ever gone through this and you certainly won't be the last. I'd say around two thirds of the women who are treated eventually have children of their own. Now those aren't bad odds."
The doctor smiled at her in a manner he apparently meant to be reassuring.
Ellen returned the smile weakly.
If ... if ... if, Ellen thought. That's what the whole thing depends on-a bunch of if this or if that's. It just wasn't right.
"A two to one chance," she said finally and once more forced a smile to her lips. She looked right at the doctor and tried to keep him from seeing the heavy doubt behind her eyes.
"That's right, Mrs. Brand." He got up from his desk and extended a hand to her. "Now, I'll make an appointment for you in a month or so and we can have another look. We'll see then, okay?"
"All right," Ellen said, taking his hand and his signal that the talk was over. She rose from her chair, smiled, and walked out.
* * *
The sun had become much brighter than it had been when she'd gone into the doctor's office. When she first stepped out of the door to the doctor's building she had to shade her eyes with her hands. She stood there long enough to light a cigarette and allow her eyes to adjust to the sudden change in light.
Then she crossed the wide street and entered the park across from the building in which Doctor Thalenger had talked to her.
There weren't many people in the park yet. The day had been overcast with a constant drizzling of summer rain that had threatened to ruin the whole day. Now the rain had stopped and Ellen found it ironic that her mood had changed completely contrary to the change in the weather.
The night before John had come back and they had talked for hours about themselves. He had finally, she assumed, gotten to the point where her escapade the night before could be-if not forgotten-filed away in their relationship where it would not constantly buffet them back and forth with uncontrolled emotion and anger.
She had even stayed awake late after John had dozed off and talked to herself until she was practically convinced that she had make a big deal out of something that wasn't at all proved yet and that the tests would probably turn out to show that she could have babies after all.
She'd managed to keep the buoyed up feeling going until she'd gone into the doctor's office and had been told that the test indicated the she would have trouble having children and that she would have to have treatment in order to have children at all.
So while it had been drizzling out when she'd made her way optimistically to the doctor's office, now the sun was out and her mood would have been much better suited to the drizzling rain.
As she walked through the almost completely vacant park she suspected that the doctor had been overly optimistic in saying that there was a two to one chance that she could have children after proper treatment.
She wasn't even sure she was up to going through the treatment, building her hopes up again and then having them dashed down again with the final report she was sure would say it was hopeless after all. No, she couldn't go through that again.
Ellen stopped by a bench and lit a cigarette from the butt of one she'd smoked entering the park. She looked out over the damp grass of the park without really seeing it at all.
She kept questioning herself and turning everything over in her mind.
Why hadn't she told John about it last night? Why hadn't she explained the reason she had been in a bad mood at the party the night before was because of her anxiety over not being able to have a baby, or the real possibility of not being able to have children. And that was why she had allowed that Harold Thomson to screw her. It wasn't anything that John did.
She wished now that she had told John last night. It would have been easier telling him when she could at least show some optimism. Now she could only say that it was definite. Despite the odds, trumped up she thought, that the doctor had spouted, die knew deep down that she could not and thus would not ever have children of her own.
Would John allow her to adopt some? She didn't know, but something made her doubt it. He wasn't the kind who would want someone else's children. He had too much pride in what was his.
Ellen got up from the bench and started walking towards the other end of the park. She wasn't conscious of where she was going.
* * *
The bar was not one of the higher class places. But then again it was not a sleazy place. It was, in fact, the type of bar that many businessmen went to during their lunches.
The decorations were overly masculine for a bar that advertised it welcomed women as well as men. But they-the decorations-might have been left over from an earlier era in the bar's history that prohibited women on the premises. The decoration and bar policy would have promised a man a retreat into friendly drinking companionship-male drinking companionship.
Ellen wasn't sure why she had chosen to come into the bar. She must have been walking for an hour or more and tired feet might have played a part in her decision.
Yet she also felt a craving for liquor that die had seldom experienced before.
For several long minutes she stood in the doorway trying to decide whether or not to go sit at the bar or to find a booth by herself.
She finally decided that sitting at a bar-at least a woman alone sitting at a bar-looked rather cheap. Like she was a whore looking for a john.
John, she thought, that was kind of funny. She doubted if John had ever even considered going with a whore. That wasn't his style.
Having decided on taking a booth, she found one not far from the door and slipped into it. She checked her watch and discovered it was barely two thirty in the afternoon.
Oh, the hell with it, she thought.
The bartender came over and took her order. She ordered a martini.
She rarely drank the things, usually thinking them too strong for her. One was usually enough to make her start feeling lightheaded.
When her drink came she sipped it slowly. When the first sips hit her stomach she realized that she had not had anything to eat past the pastry and coffee for breakfast.
This is crazy, die told herself. Me sitting in a bar, drinking martinis on an empty stomach. I ought to have my head examined.
After the first couple of sips of her drink Ellen looked around the bar. She caught several men who looked like they were businessmen looking at her curiously.
Bet they think I'm a call girl she thought, without knowing what made her think such a thing. I wonder what it would be like?
But she was really too depressed to play fantasy games and she bent her head back down over the drink. It was strong.
At first she didn't realize that the voice was talking to her.
Finally she looked up.
"May I buy you a drink?" the heavy male voice asked once more.
"Sure, why not?" Ellen said before she realized she what she was doing.
The man climbed into the booth on the opposite side of the table.
He was in his mid-thirties, Ellen thought.
Not a bad looking man either. His hair was prematurely tinged with gray at the side.
She noticed his eyes next. They were a light blue green and seemed to be very shallow. Shallow and slightly watery in their stare.
"My name's Ted," the man said, not thinking it necessary to give his last name.
"Mine's Ellen," Ellen said, realizing at once that she should have lied and stopping herself at the same time from giving her last name.
"Hi, Ellen," the man said with a broad though not warm smile.
Ellen returned the smile in kind. The kind of smile you give to people who you don't know or doubt if you are going to get to know very well.
Hell, die thought, this was just a guy who offered to buy her a drink.
"Martini?"
"Huh?"
"I asked if you're drinking a martini," the man said.
"Oh, yes I am."
The man signalled to the waiter who came over immediately and took their orders.
While the man was giving the order for two martinis, Ellen was appraising the way he was dressed. She decided that he was probably a salesman ... possibly a traveling salesman, that he made a reasonably good living-the suit was good and tailor cut-and that he was used to picking up women in good bars.
I wonder if he thinks I want to go to bed with him, Ellen asked herself. And strangely enough die realized that the thought wasn't entirely a distasteful one.
"You from around here, Ted?"
"No, from out of town."
"Far?"
"Halfway across the country," he said, but didn't elaborate.
"Oh, I've never been across the country," Ellen said. "It must be nice to travel."
"It's a living."
"Oh, I see." Ellen realized that he was not pleased by the conversation.
"You come here often?" he asked.
"No," she answered at first then added, "well, not that often once in a while."
The drinks came.
"To a sunny day," Ted toasted.
"All right, to a sunny day."
They both drank.
Ellen realized that his knees had moved so that they were touching hers.
The liquor had started buzzing in her head and she made no move to discontinue the contact.
"Mind if I sit over there?" the man asked after a long pause.
"No, why should I?" Ellen moved over so he could come in to her side of the booth.
"I hate sitting across from people," Ted said. "It makes me feel like I'm in an office talking to you over a big wide desk."
"You don't like offices much then?"
"No, I don't," Ted said. He took a sip of his drink and when he put it down he slipped an arm around Ellen's shoulders and drew her closer.
He watched her as if waiting for a reaction that would tell him how the thing was going to go.
Ellen, to her own surprise, didn't protest too much, but pressed herself as much as she could up against him, then gently removed his arm.
"It makes me self-conscious in public," she explained softly.
Ellen knew that she should have excused herself right then and left, but she didn't feel like she had the energy or will power.
Within minutes his hand was on her knee, massaging it softly.
She had had her legs tucked tightly together, but when his hand moved to the inside of her knee she let them fall slightly apart.
Once again she was surprised at her own actions.
This is crazy, she told herself for the fifth time. This is really crazy.
The touch of his hand on her knee felt fine and warm like it belonged there.
"Would you like another drink?" Ted asked finally, his hand still on her knee firmly and insistently caressing it, "or shall we get out of here?"
"I don't think I want another drink," Ellen said.
He thinks I'm going to go with him someplace, she thought. I wonder where he plans to take me?
She still had almost half of her drink and she drank that slowly.
The man had almost finished his, but he showed no irritation at having to wait for her.
"I bet you're a natural blonde," he said out of the air suddenly.
"I'll bet you're right," Ellen said and giggled from the drinks. "I haven't been asked that in I don't know how long a time."
"You looked natural," Ted explained. "I don't like bleached hair."
He paused and finished the last of his drink.
"Do you have a place to go?" he asked finally.
Ellen wasn't sure at first what he meant.
Then when she realized, she shook her head.
"Then we can go to my hotel room," Ted said confidently as if the last thing in the world he expected was for her to refuse him.
Ellen didn't answer. She took several more sips out of her drink as if stalling for time.
"There's something else," Ellen said finally, watching to see if he'd interpret it in the way she thought he would-and wondered if he'd leave her once he did interpret it in that way.
"I know," Ted said nonchalantly. "How much?"
"Fifty dollars," Ellen said, trying to keep a straight face. She found herself bracing herself for him to say it was too much or protest.
"I figured you'd get at least that," Ted said, dropping bills on the table to pay the tab for the drinks. "Let's get out of here."
* * *
Ellen's first reaction to Ted's having accepted fifty dollars as a reasonable price for having sex relations with her was a warm feeling of elation. It was as if the price he was willing to pay showed her that she was after all worth something.
The hotel room was not really very swanky. But it was functional, if plain. Ellen was glad that she'd worn a nice dress and-above all-clean underwear.
It seemed completely like a dream at first as they traveled to the hotel room. Here she was, Ellen Brand, sitting next to a man who had picked her up in a bar less than an hour before and who was now going to pay her fifty dollars to have sexual relations with him. And more amazing was the fact that she was going to have sex with this man for the fifty dollars.
During the taxi ride to his hotel, Ellen had started playing the role of the call girl more directly. During the trip her one hand had remained always on his leg, massaging it up and down because she had seen a movie once in which that was the way the call girl acted.
Ted seemed to accept it as how die should behave so she figured it was all right.
After they entered the hotel room Ted led her to the couch and offered her a drink.
She accepted eagerly since it would give her time to work things out more.
She couldn't walk out on him though, she thought. Not just walk out.
Maybe she could tell him that she really wasn't a call girl and was just some suburban housewife who'd had too much to drink and allowed him to pick her up in a bar she'd never been in before.
No, she couldn't do that.
Ted returned to where she was seated on the couch. He handed her a frosty martini.
"To a pleasant afternoon," he said and took a long sip from his glass.
Ellen took an equally long sip from hers. She thought that she was going to need the alcohol to get through the afternoon.
Ted sat down beside her and started undoing the front of her dress.
"You dress very well," he said, admiring the cut and color of the dress.
His fingers continued working at the fastenings until the front was completely open and he could push the material away from her body.
His hands cupped her breasts through her lace bra and then he pulled her to him for their first kiss.
He kissed her passionately using his tongue proficiently.
His hands were demanding on her breasts.
"Your tits feel good, baby," he told her into her ear.
"Thank you," Ellen said. She reached up behind herself and unhooked the bra strap.
Then she struggled out of the bra and the rest of the way out of the dress.
Now she was sitting on the couch, completely nude except for the brief bikini pants she still had on and which just covered the golden tufts of her pubic triangle tucked between her thighs.
Ted's mouth was at one of her nipples immediately. He sucked it into his mouth and massaged the flesh around it with his hands.
"Beautiful tits," he said, "I love your tits ... could suck them forever."
Ellen held his head to her breasts and let him suck at the nipples until they were hard and little bolts of excitement traveled from the tips of her breasts to the rest of her nude body.
Then his mouth was at her mouth again and he was pushing down onto the couch.
Instinctively her hand reached out and touched the front of his pants where his penis was. She was surprised to find that it wasn't really hard yet.
She started massaging it with her hand but he stopped her almost at once.
"Not like that," his voice rasped as he got up from the couch and started undressing himself.
Ellen made no attempt to cover herself, but sat open and almost naked on the couch.
Within a minute or so the man calling himself Ted was standing naked in front of her. His penis was gripped in his right hand and he was pointing it at her.
At first, Ellen didn't understand just what he wanted. Then it dawned on her that he wanted her to do him with her mouth and she felt a bolt of panic.
She'd never liked having oral relations with John. She guessed it was some sort of inhibition, but still she hadn't liked it the couple of times she'd tried it.
She noticed that the man's penis still was not standing up erect and hard the way John's would have been by now and she felt a wave of sorrow for the man standing in front of her.
She placed her hands on each side of his bare hips and drew him to her. Her fingers found the flaccidness of his penis and she guided it to her lips.
First she pressed her closed lips against the head of it, then she opened her lips and took the penis into her mouth and started sucking on it.
"Oh, that's nice ... that's so nice," Ted kept repeating over and over.
Ellen felt the penis stirring inside her mouth and sucked harder at it. She gripped it by the base of the shaft and started gently massaging it in and out of her mouth as she continued to suck.
The she took her mouth away from the stirring penis in front of her.
"Get on the couch," she suggested. "It will be easier that way."
He obeyed without a word, stretching out on the couch as she kneeled beside it to start working on his penis again with her mouth.
"You're so beautiful," the man said, "your breasts are beautiful ... your mouth is beautiful and you suck beautiful ... you really suck beautiful."
Ellen was beginning to warm up to the task at hand and her sucking and licking became more sure and insistent as did the gentle massaging her hand was administering to the growing prick.
"Suck me ... suck my cock," the man said.
As she worked she started to realize a couple of things.
The first was that having sexual relations with someone really could be quite impersonal. The second one was that this man's problems-whatever they were-included the fact that he was stimulated by words.
He seemed to find the verbal expression of the sexual act stimulating.
She continued to suck at his prick. As she did it grew hard and erect.
She felt it grow within her mouth until it seemed to press into her throat.
He started to moan in his throat and his hands came to the back of her head, pushing it down so that the prick sank deeper into her throat.
"Suck me ... suck me good."
His penis was fully erect now. She ran her lips over the length of its shaft then drew it into her mouth again.
After a while she lifted her head.
"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked in as soft and gentle a voice as she could manage.
"No ... no ... I want you to suck me. I want you to suck me off."
His hands tried to force her back onto the prick.
"You want to see my cunt?"
"Sure ... sure," she said Ellen stopped sucking his cock long enough to draw off her panties.
She was beginning to wonder if he was capable of regular intercourse.
Or did he only respond to oral sex and had to buy prostitutes to perform it on him?
She positioned herself above him so that he had a good view of her cunt.
Almost immediately she felt his fingers petting the mound of her, then one finger slip deep inside her hole. It was moist and ready.
"You like my cunt?" she asked.
"Yes," he mumbled.
"Is it a pretty cunt?"
"Yes, it's pretty."
"Don't you want to fuck my cunt?" she asked. "I want you to fuck my cunt."
"I can't ... I can't." He sounded like he was almost crying now.
"Sure you can," Ellen insisted. She got up. "Come into the bedroom."
He looked startled.
"Come on, I love the taste of your prick in my mouth," she lied.
"You do?"
"Yes, yes," Ellen said, "and I can suck it better on the bed. It's more comfortable there. I want it all in my mouth."
He followed her into the bedroom.
Ellen lay spreadeagled on the bed. One of her hands was just lying over the mound of golden fur. The hand was rubbing the mound back and forth.
"You want to suck my cunt?" she asked from the bed.
One of her fingers ducked down into the moist hole that waited for him.
"Come on, suck my cunt while I lick your prick," she said teasingly.
"All right," the man said and came to the bed.
They lay facing opposite ends of the bed. He faced the bottom of the bed. Near the pillows, Ellen's mouth took in the hard cock and pressed it deep into her own throat as she sucked.
She felt the man's tentative kisses around her belly and the fur of her triangle. Then he kissed the entrance of her cunt lightly.
"That's beautiful," Ellen cried.
Encouraged, he kissed more emphatically, pressing his tongue into the tight but wet hole.
"Oh God, suck my cunt. Oh please, suck my cunt," Ellen moaned.
"Oh God, I'm going crazy," Ellen called out after a while.
Ted was working at her cunt and she could feel the rhythmic throbbings of his swollen cock deep in her sucking mouth.
"God, I need you in me," she called. "Please fuck me. Don't you want to fuck my cunt?"
"I can't," he said sadly.
"Yes you can ... oh, yes you can. It's hard and rigid. You can fuck me."
"No ... no."
"Oh God, I need you to fuck me. Honest, I really need you in me. I'll go crazy if you don't fuck me. My cunt screams for what my mouth has."
He didn't answer.
"Please try ... try to fuck me. I won't make you pay if you fuck me. I've never been like this. Your prick tastes so good."
"You've got to help me then," the man said finally.
Ellen felt his body stiffen and for a brief moment thought he would loose his erection, but she licked and sucked at it to keep it hard.
She writhed and gyrated on the bed as if in uncontrolled passion.
"Hurry ... please hurry," she called to him.
Her hand reached out and found his prick. It was still hard but she continued to massage it and she guided it to her hole.
"You can do it," she called, "please, you have to do it. I want you in me."
Then she felt the first pressure of his heavy prick at the entrance to her cunt. She felt it pushing past the entrance and entering the wet tunnel that awaited the bulbous intruder.
"Oh fuck ... oh God, fuck," she called out as if in a frenzy.
Then came his first tentative thrust and it took him half inside her.
She kept her hand at his prick, massaging it and holding it in the way she'd learned to help John sustain his erection for especially long bouts of sex.
"You're in me," she called. "You did it. ... You're in me, fucking me."
"Yes, yes," the man moaned. His mouth was at her tits.
She felt him thrust with more assurance and the prick tilled her tight hole.
"Oh," she moaned under the pressure of his swollen prick.
He had started regular strokes of intercourse now.
She knew that he could not last long the way he was going.
"Oh, it feels so big inside me ... so big and beautiful in my cunt. ... Fuck me ... fuck my cunt."
His strokes came faster and faster. Then she sensed he was going to come.
"Don't hold back," she cried out. "I'm there. Oh God, I'm there."
His body thrashed wildly above her.
"I'm there," Ellen cried once more. "Fuck ... oh God, fuck me."
CHAPTER SIX
FIRST FUCK
It's not like I'm used to doing things like this, Ellen told herself.
It was shortly after lunch time the day after she'd been picked up at the bar and gone with the man to his room for fifty dollars.
Ellen rarely drank, but this afternoon she found herself mixing a drink right after lunch and walking aimlessly around the house as she sipped it.
Her mind raced and jumped from one thing to another as if completely out of control. Just when she thought she had grabbed hold of an idea, her mind would skirt off on a new tangent.
The main ingredient of most of the tangents was, of course, sex. Sex had all of a sudden become uppermost in her mind, or at least seemed to have become uppermost. She found this slightly frightening.
Another aspect of this thought jumping, zig zaging of her mind, was that emotion seemed to be lacking. She was thinking about sex, yet she was not responding emotionally to the thoughts that a week ago would have been accompanied by extreme rushes of emotional tension.
Now there seemed only to be a near emotionless objectivity that in itself frightened her as much as the new prominence of sex in her thoughts.
Well, she thought, that's over anyway. There's nothing I can do about it now.
The "that" that was over was her fling the afternoon before and she was, of course, quite right that there was nothing she could do to change what had already, irreversibly happened.
The likelihood of anything like that happening again, Ellen told herself, is small ... nonexistent. I had the experience, that's it.
But if that was all there was to it, why did her mind keep returning to the afternoon and the man who handed her two twenty dollar bills and one ten dollar bill. ... Fifty dollars for letting him screw her.
Part of the objectiveness she was experiencing in the early afternoon after the fifty dollar incident was that it seemed rather strange to her that anyone would pay a woman fifty dollars for doing what practically any woman over puberty and under a certain age could do about as well as she herself could.
It didn't make sense to her.
Her mind went back to the party the weekend before. Step by step she went through what had happened when Harold Thomson had come and found her in the basement. It all seemed so simple.
And really, it was so simple. Yet that was the same thing that the man had paid her all the money for. In fact, she had earned what amounted to fifty dollars for an hour's work.
On top of that, the man who called himself Ted had thanked her.
And she had been genuinely touched by it. He seemed actually to be grateful for what she had done for him, while she felt that she should be the one to be grateful for him giving her money, paying her for doing something that came quite naturally to her.
"Any woman could have done the same thing," Ellen had said starting to climb back into her clothes. She turned toward him, her breasts still bare and open to his inspection and as it turned out, his hands.
"But every woman wouldn't have," he said. "I mean...." But he couldn't seem to find the words that he wanted or needed to say what he wanted.
Ellen had read somewhere that a lot of their clients spent a lot of time talking to prostitutes or call girls telling them things that they could not or never would tell anyone else anything about.
Ellen sat down on the bed, still clad only in her brief bikini panties and lit a cigarette. Ted came and sat beside her, putting an arm around her and using his other hand to pet her breasts.
"I hadn't really had it in a woman for a long time," Ted blurted.
"Oh?"
"I've been afraid to," he admitted after another long silence.
"Why afraid?" Ellen wanted to know. She felt a kind of sorrow for this man.
"Because I lost my erection a couple of times when I tried to put it in a woman. I could get it up if they kissed it...."
Ellen waited out another long pause...." But when it actually came to putting it in there I'd loose it."
"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore," Ellen said lightly. "I can certify that you're cured at least on that point."
"Thanks."
"You don't have to thank me, Ted. You've paid for me already."
* * *
As Ellen relived the conversation with the man calling himself Ted, Ellen finished off her first martini and went to the kitchen to fix another. She wasn't used to drinking in the afternoon, but today she wanted to.
She went into the bedroom with her refreshed drink, stripped naked and lay prone on the bed. She brought an ashtray over onto the bed and lit a cigarette. The first whiffs of smoke curled toward the ceiling. She watched them as they flew through the sunlight.
She hadn't been lying down long when the phone rang.
"Oh, shit," she mumbled, not wanting to be interrupted today.
She picked up the receiver.
"Yes?"
"Ellen?" a strong male voice questioned through the distortion of the receiver.
"Yes," Ellen answered, puffing on the cigarette, "who is this?"
"It's Harold, Ellen ... Harold Thomson. You remember ... the party?"
"Oh, yes," Ellen said. She sat up straighter on the bed.
"How are you?" the voice asked. Somehow it didn't sound the same as she remembered it.
"I'm all right."
"Good ... good."
There was a pause in which neither said anything but listened for the other to speak first.
Both seemed embarrassed.
Ellen sat naked, cross-legged on the bed and lit another cigarette from the butt of the last. She reached out for the drink.
"Ellen?"
"Yes?"
"I was wondering-well, I'd like to see you again and I was wondering if maybe we could get together sometime soon and...."
His voice broke off.
"Harold," Ellen started, "about the party. I mean ... I usually don't...."
"Oh sure, I know that," Harold told her, his voice a little too hearty. "I mean ... well, I didn't think for one minute that...."
"Harold, listen."
"Sure...." His voice had dropped as if he'd decided calling her was a mistake.
Ellen found that the change in his voice irked her. As if he was giving up too fast-as if seeing her again after all wasn't that important that he would go through any inconvenience.
"Do you really want to see me, Harold?" she asked, surprising herself.
It occurred to Ellen that she had become increasingly surprised over her own behavior recently. She'd say things without thinking about them or even realizing beforehand that she was going to say them.
"Of course I want to see you," Harold said, his voice lifting again. "That was the reason I decided to call you this afternoon."
"I see," Ellen said.
"Can we get together then?"
"I don't see why not. Why don't you ask me about a specific time and place?"
"How about lunch tomorrow?" Harold asked. His voice had taken on a new air of confidence. "Can you meet me around one?"
"Okay," Ellen said.
* * *
After she'd hung up, Ellen had an impulse to dial him back and break the engagement. She knew as well as he did that the only reason for them to get together was to repeat the episode on the Saunders' basement couch.
Quite simply, he wanted to fuck her again. But did she really want him to?
Ellen really wasn't sure if die did or not. That was the rub.
God, how did sex get so complicated? Men wondered. On one hand it was one of the most simple acts in the world. A girl lay down and opened herself to the man. The man stuck his penis inside her.
That was all there was to it. Yet there was much more to it than that. There were the complications of the social views of sex. The dictum that sex should be monogamous, that elaborate courtship rituals must be played out before final consummation.
Ellen went back into the kitchen and made herself still another martini. She made this one a little weaker than the others but it was still a strong drink, especially for mid-afternoon.
She took the newly refilled glass back to the bedroom and sat-still naked-upon the bed again. Her mind was wandering off in strange directions now. She let it go where it pleased.
Suddenly Ellen realized that she was remembering her first experience with-as they called it then-"going all the way." Her first fuck.
She'd been really quite young. About fifteen. As a matter-of-fact, it happened less than a week before her sixteenth birthday.
It was in the summer. They had always gone to a resort island in the summer. And this summer she made friends with a young boy just about her own age. He might have been sixteen already, she couldn't really remember.
His name had been Billy. She couldn't remember his last name anymore.
Yet she could still remember quite vividly how he looked that summer.
He was a slim boy, about two inches taller than Ellen's five feet three. He had naturally blond hair too, further lightened by the natural bleaching of the hot, insistent summer sun.
They had spent much of their time during that summer exploring different parts of the island. Despite the recent build-up of prefab summer homes on one side of the newly developed island, the opposite side of the island was pretty much deserted.
That afternoon when they went to one of their favorite coves it was completely deserted. Many of the people who had stayed there for the summer had already left for home.
Ellen's and Billy's families were going to stay through the weekend and leave Monday afternoon. It was now Saturday afternoon and they figured privately that this would be their last trip to the cove.
Sunday would be taken up by packing and getting everything ready for leaving the next day.
Both of the young people felt slightly sad at the end of the summer like most people are when something they've enjoyed comes to a final end.
They walked along the beach hand in hand. Both of them were wearing jeans and shirts. It had looked pretty much like rain when they'd left so they had decided against wearing swim suits.
Now the sun was beginning to show through and they were disappointed that they hadn't brought suits.
"It'd be great to take one last swim," Ellen had said quietly.
"I think I'll go in anyway," Billy said suddenly, looking at the water along the deserted beach.
"In your clothes?" Ellen asked, thinking that it would be very uncomfortable to walk all the way back in soaking wet clothes.
"No," Billy said. "You can turn around if you want. I won't be long."
"You mean you're going to go naked?" Ellen asked, her voice showing her astonishment.
"Why not?" Billy asked.
"Sure you are," Ellen said, convinced that he was pulling a bluff to see what she would say.
"Sure I am," Billy said, his voice steady, his eyes challenging.
"Then so will I," Ellen announced, not wanting to be outdone by a boy. She was sure that he was bluffing-but she could bluff too.
Then Ellen started unbuttoning her shirt.
She hadn't bothered to wear a bra because her breasts were small and very firm. A bra made little difference in the way she looked to other people.
She noticed that Billy's eyes were fastened on the increasing opening at the front of her shirt.
"Well, aren't you going to get undressed too?" Ellen teased.
"Sure ... sure I am," Billy said, obviously embarrassed at having been caught staring.
Ellen had finished unbuttoning her shirt but made no move to take it off. Billy already had his shirt off and his hands were still just above the front of his trousers.
Billy could see glimpses of the young girl's breasts where the shirt hung open in front.
They both stood there looking at each other.
"Oh hell," Ellen said finally, "this is getting ridiculous."
With that she flung off the shirt and unzipped and pulled down her pants and panties in one motion.
"Come on," she called and ran quickly into the water, diving under as soon as she could.
Billy undressed and followed soon after.
When he got out to where he had seen Ellen swimming he couldn't find her.
He whirled around in the water looking in a wide circle for the missing girl.
Then, suddenly, she was next to him. Water sprayed all over him and in his eyes. He could hear her high laughter as she splashed up from under water.
"Looking for someone?" she asked, continuing to laugh uncontrollably.
"Why you," Billy said, not finishing and grabbed for her with his-arms.
She came against his body quickly and he held her there, her arms pinned to her sides, his arms circling her body to hold her.
He could feel the full naked wetness of her body tight against his. She wiggled around in his arms as if trying to break his hold.
He felt his penis getting hard and felt it press out into the light blonde pubic hair of her triangle.
He continued to hold her, but his grip loosened slightly. She made no move to break away.
"You know," Billy started lamely, "I'm going to miss you."
"I'm going to miss you too, Billy. We've had a lot of fun together. I mean it. I haven't had as much fun as we've had this summer in my whole life and I'll always love you for it."
Without another word Billy bent down and kissed the naked girl in his arms.
Her arms pulled free from his and circled his neck as she responded to the first gentle pressure of his lips. Then his lips grew more demanding and his tongue pressed between her lips and searched out her tongue.
The kiss lasted a long time, and Billy was very conscious-almost painfully so-of the feel of her small breasts wet and pressing against his bare chest, and the feel of his now erect penis pressing against her belly just at the border of the pubic triangle.
"Let's go in," Ellen said breathlessly when the kiss finally ended.
Billy agreed and they started walking, arms wrapped around each other's bodies toward the shore. They walked slowly and carefully.
Then when they were just about at the shore, Ellen broke loose suddenly and started running toward the shore.
Billy didn't call after her but started running also. He knew he could catch her for they had raced each other many times during the hot summer.
He caught her just at the edge of the water, diving out and catching her around the waist.
They both fell tumbling to the sand. The waves were rolling half over them where they lay intertwined, wet, happy, and laughing.
Then Billy's lips were pressing against hers and his hands ran gently at first over her bared breasts. His tongue pushed out and Ellen's tongue met his willingly.
She lay on her back as they kissed and Billy was almost on top of her but to one side. His hands continued at her breasts then started the journey down her young body, down over her smooth belly to the beginning of her pubic hair.
His hand cupped the blonde tufted mound there and Ellen's legs spread apart so he could feel her there.
Their kissing increased in passion as his hand started massaging the furry mound between her young thighs.
Slowly and gently Billy started probing at her hole with one finger.
When the finger first gained entrance to the tight damp hole, Ellen's body stiffened, then relaxed again as his finger started a rhythmic moving in and out, in and out of her young cunt.
Shyly the young girl reached out one of her hands and found the erect penis of the young boy. Her fingers wrapped around it and she just held it there concentrating on the feel of it in her hand.
Soon her fingers started to caress the hard flesh beneath them and Billy's finger moved faster inside her tight damp vagina.
"Billy ... oh Billy, Billy," Ellen moaned under the feel of his caresses.
Billy was kissing her harder and harder and his fingers were more insistent inside her.
He rolled over onto her and Ellen spread her legs wide to accommodate his torso between them. He had taken his hand from her mound now and was using that hand to guide his erect penis to the entrance of her tight hole.
She felt the weight of it against the entrance of her cunt, then felt his first tentative thrusts taking the head of his cock into the canal of her pussy.
She spread her legs wider for him and he thrust more deeply into her.
She started drawing back from him as the first of the pain came.
"Please ... please," Billy almost whimpered in his young violent need of her.
"It hurts ... it hurts," Ellen repeated, still feeling the pain of his cock deep within her.
Then Billy thrust violently into her and felt the membrane that was blocking him give way.
Ellen screamed out at the pain and felt him go perfectly still within her.
They stayed locked together like that for a long time.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," Billy said softly from on top of her.
"It's all right, Billy ... it's all right," Ellen repeated, soothing him.
After a long pause Billy started the rhythmic strokes of intercourse again and carried them on till he reached an explosive climax within the young girl's body.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MOUTHFUL OF LOVE
Ellen sipped the martini thoughtfully then looked up at the man across from her.
Harold Thomson looked somehow different. It was hard for her to realize that this man who sat in front of her was the same man whom she had accepted deep into her pussy less than a week before.
The situation seemed to her to be very strange. It was as if she didn't know him, but at the same time knew him intimately.
He was a stranger, yet a stranger who had fucked her passionately.
"Would you like to order?" he asked in a low voice that she did not remember.
"No, I'd like another drink first," Ellen said. She felt that she would have to fortify herself quite well for the afternoon ahead.
She saw that he was watching her very closely and she saw something in his eyes that might have been disapproval of her preferring to have another drink before they ordered their lunch.
Then he smiled and the look in his eyes disappeared.
* * *
The look in Harold's eyes had been, in fact, really a look of minor annoyance. He was anxious to be alone with Ellen and the delay in ordering would mean a delay in eating. He really didn't think himself hungry at the moment. At least not for food.
Finally he accepted the fact that he would have to let her take her time in getting used to being there with him and what would come later.
The restaurant was not crowded so he knew that once they ordered, service would be pretty good.
He looked with admiration over the table at the woman who sat across from him.
Her hair was immaculately set about her head but looked casual. Her face was well made up, but not obviously so. The effect was a natural look.
She was dressed in a stylish summer skirt and blouse. The skirt of blue material was cut smoothly to her figure. The blouse was white. Ruffles travelled down the front and hinted at a low cut neck line that would have, except for the ruffles, revealed what might be considered a daring amount of breast.
She was not like many of the girls he went out with and with whom he shared his bed. She had a style that was distinctly her own and that accentuated the beauty that was already present in her physical makeup. He couldn't understand what she was doing here.
At the party, Harold had not actually expected to get much of anywhere with the beautiful blonde woman he had introduced himself to. She had seemed too distant, too aloof from the proceedings.
She had also seemed more than a little upset about something and he had been genuinely concerned about her. That was why he had gone after her when she excused herself from his side and gone inside and hadn't returned in ten minutes or more. He had gone to see if he could cheer her Up.
Instead he had found a woman willing to enter his embrace and more than willing to accept him into her as they grappled on the couch.
It was extraordinary to him that the whole thing had happened so easily without much of a protest. It was as if she had planned for him to come find her and she had been waiting for him ... wanting to lift her skirts for him and take his cock into her tight hole.
Again, when he had called her the afternoon before, he had not expected her to agree to meet him. As far as he had figured, she had taken him at the party precisely because she was upset.
He doubted if she would have any reason to agree to a meeting.
Yet she had agreed and now was sitting across the table from him both of them knowing full well that the purpose of the meeting was so he could screw her again. That was really the whole thing.
But he would have to wait for her time. He couldn't push her, he felt, without jeopardizing what he so dearly wanted to happen later.
He smiled weakly across at the extraordinary woman who was to share his bed. The smile did not feel right on his face and he let it go.
Ellen seemed to be trying to return his nervous, failing smile.
He decided that the lunch date had been a mistake. But then what could he have done? Asked her to meet him at the motel?
She wouldn't have gone for that. There had to be some semblance of a courtship he felt, or she would have been put off.
She leaned forward to accept her new drink and take a sip from the overfilled glass. He could see more of her breasts and felt a tingling in his hands that told him they wanted very much to reach out and cup that lovely flesh, to make it his own.
Harold had asked someone after the party about her and had found to his further surprise that this exquisite creature was married. He had not noticed her rings for she did not wear an engagement ring but only a very thin gold wedding band, easily overlooked.
"I guess we can order now," Ellen said after finishing half of her second martini. "I'm really getting very hungry."
Harold signalled for the waiter and placed their luncheon orders.
The meal seemed to drag along as if it would never be over.
Conversation was very light. What there was of it was stilted and uncomfortable.
Little things like:
"Have you known the Saunders long?"
"They're nice people."
"We've been friends with them for close to seven years now."
All of which sounded out of place. Especially the "we" which somehow obscenely brought Ellen's husband into the lunch date where he didn't belong.
"Peggy's really a doll, isn't she?" This came from a nervous Ellen.
"Yes, she is ... I've never seen a woman with such beautiful long red hair."
"Yes, it is beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yes."
Then later:
"The food is very good here."
"Yes, it is."
Another awkward silence followed as if both were anxious for the meal to end so they could get out of there and drop the pretences.
Finally Ellen asked, "Where are we going after we eat?"
"I have a room at a small motel outside of town. I thought we'd go there. It's really rather a nice place ... not too expensive."
"Oh ... I see." Ellen looked down at her almost empty plate now. She could not remember having eaten all that food but she must have.
A mild buzzing had started in her head from the two drinks she had.
Why the hell don't we get this over with? she wondered. Why do we have to go through this whole lunch bit? It's so terribly phony.
Harold was finished before Ellen was and asked her if she minded if he smoked.
"No, of course not."
He lit a cigarette in silence.
"This lunch was a mistake," Ellen said abruptly, pushing the last few morsels of food around on her plate like a nervous child.
"Yes, I'm afraid that it was."
For the first time since they had met at the restaurant, his smile was genuine.
"Oh well," Ellen said shrugging her beautiful shoulders, "I guess there's not too much we can do about it at this late point."
"Except finish and get out of here."
"I'm ready any time," Ellen said and put down her fork as if in relief.
* * *
During the drive out to his motel, Ellen sat over on the other side of the car. Her legs were crossed and her skirt-as if by accident-had ridden up high on her pretty thighs, showing the slightest glimpse of white lace that covered her crotch.
Harold had a hard time not looking over at the welcome sight more than was safe for driving. He could not remember wanting to screw any woman as much as he wanted to screw Ellen right now.
Well, it wouldn't be long and they'd be there. Thank God for that.
"Far?" Ellen asked.
"Not much further. It's really a nice place ... a friend told me of it."
"I'm sure it is."
"It's really wonderful in a way. The walls are thick enough so you don't spend the whole night listening to the orgies next door."
Ellen laughed for no apparent reason. Just threw her head back and laughed.
"I'm sorry," she said finally.
"What for?"
"Oh, nothing-don't worry about it. It's got nothing to do with you."
"Oh."
Harold lit another cigarette and felt the harsh smoke scrape against his throat. Why was he smoking so much? Was he that nervous?
He guessed he was.
Who wouldn't be, knowing that a woman like Ellen Brand would share your bed in a matter of minutes? It wouldn't be a quick bout like it had been at the party. It would be long and lingering. They had plenty of time and no one would interrupt.
In a way, Harold felt as if he hadn't even screwed her at the party. He felt like this would be the first time with Ellen.
That was probably part of the reason he felt so nervous. He was always nervous the first time with a new woman. Ellen was no different except that this was not the first time and he was still nervous.
"It won't be long now," he said to fill the silence between them.
"Good."
* * *
Harold had been right. The room was very comfortable. It was well lit and the furniture, while not exactly stylish, appeared relatively new and well kept up. The beds were large and the mattresses firm. One side of the room was window and cream colored drapes were pulled over the windows diffusing the sunlight that poured in.
Harold let Ellen walk in first, followed her and locked the door behind them.
"I make a pretty mean martini myself," he said, smiling. "Would you like one?"
"That would be fine."
Ellen examined the room closely while he started to fix the drinks.
Then she moved and sat on the end of one of the large double beds.
"There ... nice and dry," Harold said walking to her and handing her a glass filled with clear liquid and plenty of cracked ice.
"Thanks."
"Any time."
He sat down next to her but didn't touch her at first.
Ellen tasted the drink and nodded her approval. It was good.
"It's even better than the restaurant's," she said, smiling warmly.
"Thank you. If you ever need a live-in bartender, just let me know."
They laughed.
"I don't think my husband would approve," Ellen said, still smiling. It didn't sound so strange talking about her husband here.
"No, I guess not."
Only then did he touch her. He slipped one arm around her.
She lifted her face to his, to accept this first kiss and put one arm around his neck.
Their tongues searched each other out and intertwined passionately.
His hand moved to her breasts and slipped under the wide opening at the front of her blouse. Her hand covered his and pressed it to her flesh.
Harold could feel the rigid hardness of her nipples against the palm of his hand. She pressed her breast out against the hard caress.
Their tongues flashed against each other. He squeezed the warm flesh of her tits.
After several passionate minutes of contact they broke apart.
"Wow," Harold said despite himself, "you're really something, Ellen."
"Thank you, Harold. I appreciate that ... I really mean it."
Ellen tipped up her glass and drained it. Then she lit a cigarette.
"I'd better get out of this dress before we ruin it completely."
"Go right ahead," Harold smiled and brought his own drink to his lips.
Ellen got up from the bed and walked over to the dresser which was next to the door. She found an ashtray and balanced the cigarette in it.
Then she turned and faced Harold. He remained sitting on the edge of the bed. As he watched her, he alternated between sips of the strong martini in one hand and drags from a freshly lit cigarette in the other. His eyes never left Ellen as she started to get undressed.
Ellen kicked off her shoes and sat down in a chair to pull off her stockings. As she did, Harold was awarded with a tantalizing view of the white crotch of her lace semi-transparent panties.
He could feel the quickening of his pulse as he watched her.
Ellen stood up again and her fingers travelled to the front of her blouse. There they started the progressive unhooking of her white blouse. She did it slowly as if tantalizing the man watching on purpose.
When the last hook was undone, Ellen pulled the blouse from the skirt and took it off completely. She folded it gently and placed it over the back of a chair.
Under the blouse she had been wearing a white lace bra. It was transparent and low cut. Padding-just enough to show contours above the bra-pushed up the firm flesh of her breasts and made it bulge out the top of the material.
Harold could see that the material of the bra just covered her nipples. One nipple was already clearly visible where it had been drawn up from the bra by his insistent petting minutes before.
In a gesture that Harold couldn't quite understand since die eventually would take the bra off completely anyway, Ellen tucked the daring nipple back into the bra before starting to unzip the side of her skirt.
The skirt and slip came off in one smooth motion. She drew them down her leg and stripped out of them.
As she bent forward, her breasts bulged out of the bra and it seemed as if the only thing still covered were the twin nipples of them.
Now Ellen stood facing him. She was covered only by the skimpy bra and the brief bikini white lace panties that accentuated her mound.
The man was sure that he could see the blonde tufts of her pubic hair through the white lace of the panties and the thought excited him even more.
Ellen faced him fully. Her arms were by her sides. Her fists were slightly clenched.
"It's different this way, isn't it?" she asked. "Different than at the party?"
"Yes, it is," Harold answered. "I feel like it's the first time for us."
"So do I," Ellen said. "It makes me kind of nervous, you know?"
"Don't worry, baby. You won't be sorry you came. I promise."
"I'm sure I won't." Ellen walked over to where he sat on the bed.
She reached down and started unbuttoning his shirt. She helped him slip out of it and then undid his belt.
"Don't want this to be one sided-that wouldn't be at all fair."
"No." Harold smiled as he felt the quick touch of her fingers on the zipper of his pants. He could feel the pressure of her fingers on his penis where it pressed out, swollen under the material.
When Harold was only in his boxer shorts, he pulled Ellen down on the bed beside him. He pressed his body full length alongside hers and realized that she felt sexier in her underwear than most women he'd known felt completely naked.
She seemed alive and passionate in his arms, like an animal he'd captured. She pressed her mound against him and he could feel the friction of their embrace on his penis. His cock fought for escape from the confines of the loose underwear.
He lowered his face to hers and their mouths locked together.
Ellen's arms immediately circled his neck and pulled his against her hard as her tongue embraced his.
Her blonde hair spread out on the bed around her head. Her breathing was coming faster and faster. One of her legs went between his: as it did her muscular thigh massaged his penis.
Now their legs were intertwined, one of her legs between his, one of his legs between her thighs. She pressed her mound down on the heavy muscle at the top of his thigh and rubbed herself against it. She gripped his leg with her thighs and moaned.
Harold pushed the strap of her bra down over her shoulder. Ellen in response lifted herself from the bed so he could reach behind her and undo the hook there.
He fumbled for a few moments, then he caught on to how it worked and her bra fell away from her firm breasts. His mouth immediately circled one of her nipples.
He sucked the nipple between his lips and felt the rigid hardness of it with his tongue.
Ellen's hand brought his face down harder against her breasts.
His hands started rubbing her back. Then they travelled down. When they passed her waist he slipped his hands into the back of her panties and cupped the round, smooth cheeks of her ass.
The pressure of his hands brought her mound in more contact with his leg. She started to move faster against his leg, rubbing her mound up and down on it as if die were masturbating.
Harold's lips left their feast of her breasts and travelled downwards. They moved down over her belly with its slight bulge of abdominal muscles but absolutely no fat. His tongue licked the flesh.
When his mouth reached the beginning of her panties he brought his hands to her front and Started-slowly, ever so slowly-drawing down her panties. His tongue followed each inch, kissing and licking the flesh progressively exposed to his touch.
Ellen was lying back on the bed. She was not watching him, rather his head was turned to one side. Her eyes were closed tightly.
Her own hands had gone to her breasts and covered them as he kissed her.
Then Harold felt the first exciting coarseness of her pubic hair under his tongue.
He traced the border of her pubic mound with his tongue. Then he drew the panties free of her mound, licking between her thighs.
Quickly he slid her panties the rest of the way off and for the first time saw her completely naked.
He looked up from where he lay. Her head was still turned to one side. Her eyes were closed but her face was alive with passion.
Her hair was disheveled and lying around her face like some kind of exotic veil she had raised from her face. Her hands still cupped her breasts and they bulged seductively above her fingers.
His look travelled down her body to the blonde triangle of her mound. Through the hair he could see the slit that was his sexual target.
Harold pressed his head downward. His tongue traced the slit's length.
Immediately Ellen's thighs spread wide. The slit opened and revealed the entrance to her cunt hole. His tongue darted down again, pressing at that entrance.
Ellen moaned deep in her throat and pressed her vagina up against his mouth.
He could smell the pungent odor of her and understood the erotic stimulation of a woman's odor.
He lay full length next to her now, his head positioned above her mound.
As his Ups pressed against the lips of her cunt, he felt the gentle touch of her fingers on his penis, then felt the shorts he still wore being maneuvered down his hips and off over his feet.
Once more the touch of her hands shot passion through his body as her fingers wrapped gently around his swollen, throbbing cock.
Her other hand was feathering around his testicles. He pressed his tongue out and into her tight hole in a passionate intrusion.
He looked up from where his face was buried between her thighs and saw her Ups close to the head of his penis. Her fingers moved up and down on his prick. She was bending her mouth toward it.
He caught his breath, waiting for the first exquisite touch of her mouth on his cock.
When it came it was even better than he'd anticipated. Yet it was her tongue that made contact with the bulbous head of his prick first.
Just seconds before he knew her Ups would touch the sensitive glans of his penis, he saw her tongue lick out and touch it. Then her pink tongue circled the head of his prick just before her Ups closed around it and he saw his cock disappearing into her mouth.
"Oh God," he cried out as the first pressure of her lips circled his cock. She seemed to be trying to take its whole length into her mouth.
His own mouth returned to the slit and hole of her wet cunt.
Her vagina gyrated under his licking tongue.
The heavy lips of it pulsated under his own lips.
Her hand was still on his cock massaging it up and down and guiding it in and out from between her lips. He felt the head of his prick touch the back of her throat; felt the suction of her mouth on it along with the pressure of her tongue against its side.
His tongue pressed as far as it could into her tight cunt.
Her cunt muscles contracted around it. Then he sucked at her hole as if trying to drink all the juices that so freely flowed from its welcoming tunnel.
Her head was bobbing up and down on his prick now, her tongue licking the full length of it, her lips closing over the head to suck on it.
Harold did not want it to be over, yet he knew he could not hold out against the sucking pressure of her mouth. He felt her cunt start to quiver under the ministering of his mouth and tongue.
Her hips vibrated up and down as if her cunt wanted to swallow him.
Her mouth and tongue circled, licked and sucked faster and harder at his prick. He knew he could not last longer. He started short thrusts with his hips, driving his prick deeply into her mouth.
The more he thrust the faster she worked on him. His thrust became longer and harder.
Her hips were rotating and gyrating, her cunt slapping at his mouth and face.
He forced his tongue back deep into her hole, licking the walls, jabbing it as deeply as it would go.
Then he felt the sperm rise in his cock; felt the muscles throb and pump the thick white fluid deep into Ellen's throat as she continued to suck.
Even once he had come, she sucked the fluid in as if she could not get enough.
With one last thrust he drove his prick into her throat.
Her cunt rose against his tongue and lips, quivered violently and then subsided.
When he looked up, Ellen was smiling down at him. Several glistening drops of semen hung on her lower lips. Her tongue whipped out and took them too into her mouth as she continued to smile at him.
The features of her face had relaxed a bit. There was a warm flush all over her body. Her skin was shiny from the effort of their sex.
Harold lay his head on her smooth belly and let his breathing subside.
* * *
"I never thought I'd like that," Ellen said softly some time later.
Harold had fixed two more strong martinis. They burned in his throat, but cooled at the same time. In his stomach they seemed to wash away all the tiredness left from their bout of sex.
"You mean what we did?" Harold asked. He switched around and was lying next to her. His head rested on her breasts. He lifted his head for another sip of the cold, strong and relaxing drink.
"Yes...." Ellen said in a slow relaxed voice. "I've never liked it before."
"But you did today?"
"Yes, today was different ... I mean, I really enjoyed it-all of it. I thought I'd never be able to get enough. It really turned me on."
"I felt like that too ... thought for a minute there you'd never stop and you'd end up swallowing the thing."
Ellen laughed.
"No chance," she said when the laughter subsided. "I don't bite the ... uh, hand, or whatever you want to call it, that feeds me."
"You'd better not."
Harold reached over for a cigarette. He lit one for each of them.
"Thanks," Ellen said, shifting positions slightly under the weight.
"Glad you came today?" Harold asked.
He felt better than he had ever felt with any of the women he'd picked up on trips. It was strange and he couldn't explain it. It was too early to try and analyze the woman who lay naked so close to him. He'd have time for that a little later.
"I'm glad," Ellen said. "I'm very glad I decided to come today."
"Then you really enjoyed it? You weren't just putting on an act?"
Ellen laughed again. "No, I wasn't putting on any kind of act."
* * *
It was true too, she thought, feeling the pleasant pressure of his cheek on her breast and nipple. She had enjoyed it. She had loved it, in fact. Everything she'd told him about it was true.
Ellen drank this martini slowly, alternating with drags from her cigarette.
Harold shifted his head and planted a warm kiss on her nipple.
The gesture made Ellen feel quite warm. Warm and self satisfied.
Still, it was quite novel for her to be lying naked with this man she hardly knew and to have enjoyed taking his cock into her mouth and sucking him to a bursting climax. Taking his hot sperm in her mouth as well as his cock-swallowing it and liking it.
No, that didn't seem like Ellen. Something had changed in her-something she couldn't explain. Couldn't even begin to try to explain not even to herself much less to someone else.
His lips were still on her nipple as he sucked it gently into his mouth.
Her nipples went rigid under his touch. Ellen felt the beginnings of desire rise once more from deep inside her-rise like they hadn't in a long time. Not since she was first married to John. Not until this afternoon in a moderately nice motel room with Harold Thomson.
Ellen liked the way this man looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. Liked the way he went after her sexually as if he couldn't get enough of her ... couldn't satisfy his own need for her.
"You're really beautiful," Harold said, suddenly dropping the rigid nipple from between his lips.
"Thank you," Ellen said softly and rested her hand on his head. Her fingers played with the curly hair under them. She pressed his face against her breasts.
There was a silence for a time while they finished their cigarettes and drinks.
"I could use a shower," Ellen said suddenly when she crushed her cigarette out.
"I'll scrub your back," Harold answered, following her up from the bed.
"All right."
Ellen raced into the bathroom and flicked on the water. She tested the temperature with her hand.
When the water was right, they both climbed into the shower and let the hot water run down their bodies, washing off the sweat of their love making which had now dried on their skin.
Harold said something to her, but Ellen couldn't hear him over the noise of the shower. Then he grabbed a piece of soap and indicated with his hands that she should turn around with her back towards him.
Ellen obeyed and felt his hands rubbing the soap into a lather on her back.
She pulled her hair forward in front of her. She felt thankful that she did not have to set her hair for it to be comfortable afterwards. That meant she could let the water run free over her without worrying all the time about getting her hair wet.
Harold's hands moved down her back to her buttocks and soaped them thoroughly, moving the bar of soap down between the cleft between them.
His finger found her hole and jutted into it briefly before he brought his hands up around front and soaped up her breasts.
Ellen turned to face him so he could have free access to her breasts. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back as his hands lathered her firm breasts, cleaning them and stimulating her nipples until they were turgid once more under his quick touch.
Now his hand moved down over her belly, then on down into her pubic bush, then between her legs. He continued to rub her between her legs and she felt the desire building up once more from inside her.
Her hands reached out and took the soap from him. They next moved to his large balls and soaped them. Next they soaped his penis which was just showing the beginning signs of reticulation.
Ellen pressed her body up against him. Their wet skins slid against each other. She found his mouth and her tongue entered between his teeth until his tongue pressed out to engage hers.
His cock grew rigid between them. Ellen separated her thighs so that the newly turgid prick could stick up between them.
She felt its pressure against the thick lips of her cunt and pressed her thighs around it as if trying to draw it in.
They stepped back from each other as if both realizing what the other was thinking. They washed off the remainder of the soap.
Soon they were both drying themselves and each other with thick terry cloth towels. Each wrapped a towel around themselves.
As Ellen brushed out her hair in front of the mirror, the man came up behind her. His prick was still hard and as he pressed himself to the back of her, she could feel its insistent pressure against the cleft of her ass cheeks as if it wanted entrance there.
She turned into his arms and dropped the towel from around her body. Then he picked her up and carried her as if she were a child to the bed, removing the towel that covered him before joining her on the bed.
He immediately took her into his arms and their bodies pressed full length against each other. Ellen reached down for his hard prick and spread her thighs so that he could mount her right away.
"Oh God," Ellen moaned as the head of his heavy prick touched the wet entrance to her deep cunt. "Oh God, fuck me ... fuck me, please."
Her hand brought him into her. She felt the walls of her cunt expanding to accommodate the width of his hard cock as it entered further and further ... deeper into that tunnel of her hole.
As his penetration deepened, Ellen clasped him to her roughly.
"Fuck ... fuck me hard . ... Oh, please, fuck me as hard as you can."
His strokes were sure and powerful deep inside her moist cunt.
She felt his tough bottom, the head of his penis hitting the entrance to her cervix. She moaned, unable to hold back under him.
"I'm fucking you, baby," Harold rasped. "Oh God, am I fucking you."
Her hand grabbed the cheeks of his ass and pressed him to her further.
Her hips thrust up and down under his heavy pounding into her.
The pounding increased, harder and faster until with a great thrust he burst inside her.
Ellen came at the same time, twisting and thrusting under him. She could feel his sperm fill her hole as it shot up into her.
Then they both relaxed. They fell, sweaty once more, next to each other on the bed.
The cock was up deep inside her as she lay on the bed under the thrusting man.
They weren't much different, Ellen thought, feeling her husband's cock in her this time. The physical sensation didn't change much from one cock to another. Yet she couldn't feel as sexually excited as she had that afternoon with Harold Thomson.
She hadn't really wanted to have sex with John tonight. As a matter-of-fact, she hadn't had much of a desire to have sex with him since she'd gone for the last visit with the doctor and learned her fears were an actuality.
Yet she hadn't the heart to turn John down as she had at first intended.
He'd be going away the next day. He would be gone for a week.
He usually tried to get out of these business trips but this one, he said, had to be handled by him. He wouldn't trust it to someone else.
Ellen could feel the throbbing deep inside her and knew that John wouldn't be long now.
She moaned in her throat pretending that she was about to come herself when actually she felt as cold sexually as if they weren't within yards of each other.
How come she'd felt so far away from him lately? Ellen wondered.
They used to feel so close, but it just wasn't there anymore.
And God help her if he ever found out about her little afternoon escapades. She'd had to hide the money from him or spend it on things that he wouldn't notice enough to ask where she'd gotten the money to buy them.
In a way, she felt terrible about sneaking out behind his back. But at the same time she felt that whatever the moral implications of these afternoon trysts were, she needed them-or something inside her needed them. For what she had no idea.
"Honey ... honey," John whispered in her ear as he always did to warn her that he was getting ready to come but would try to hold back if she was not with him.
"Don't hold back," Ellen breathed, trying to make her voice sound choked with sexual tension. "I'm ready . ... I'm going to come."
Then she thrust her hips up against him and gyrated under him.
Finally John withdrew from her and lay breathing heavily beside her in their bed.
John lit a cigarette.
"You want one?"
"No thanks." Ellen got up from the bed once more, next to each other on the bed.
* * *
The cock was up deep inside her as she lay on the bed under the thrusting man.
They weren't much different, Ellen thought, feeling her husband's cock in her this time. The physical sensation didn't change much from one cock to another. Yet she couldn't feel as sexually excited as she had that afternoon with Harold Thomson.
She hadn't really wanted to have sex with John tonight. As a matter-of-fact, she hadn't had much of a desire to have sex with him since she'd gone for the last visit with the doctor and learned her fears were an actuality.
Yet she hadn't the heart to turn John down as she had at first intended.
He'd be going away the next day. He would be gone for a week.
He usually tried to get out of these business trips but this one, he said, had to be handled by him. He wouldn't trust it to someone else.
Ellen could feel the throbbing deep inside her and knew that John wouldn't be long now.
She moaned in her throat pretending that she was about to come herself when actually she felt as cold sexually as if they weren't within yards of each other.
How come she'd felt so far away from him lately? Ellen wondered.
They used to feel so close, but it just wasn't there anymore.
And God help her if he ever found out about her little afternoon escapades. She'd had to hide the money from him or spend it on things that he wouldn't notice enough to ask where she'd gotten the money to buy them.
In a way, she felt terrible about sneaking out behind his back. But at the same time she felt that whatever the moral implications of these afternoon trysts were, she needed them-or something inside her needed them. For what she had no idea.
"Honey ... honey," John whispered in her ear as he always did to warn her that he was getting ready to come but would try to hold back if she was not with him.
"Don't hold back," Ellen breathed, trying to make her voice sound choked with sexual tension. "I'm ready. ... I'm going to come."
Then she thrust her hips up against him and gyrated under him.
Finally John withdrew from her and lay breathing heavily beside her in their bed.
John lit a cigarette.
"You want one?"
"No thanks." Ellen got up from the bed and went into the kitchen to fix herself a drink. They were almost out of vermouth but she had enough for one martini.
"You want a drink, dear?" she called, hoping that his answer would be negative.
"No, thanks. I'll have a beer."
"Okay," Ellen called back and fixed herself a martini in a tall glass.
She cracked some ice and went into the living room.
"Do you think it's a good idea to be walking around like that?" John asked.
Ellen, still naked as she had been in bed, settled herself into a chair.
"No one can see me. Why not?" Her voice held a challenge that John probably didn't understand. She wasn't sure that she did either.
"Well, it's all right with me," John announced a bit too heartily.
"Good, then that's settled." Ellen tucked one leg under her and continued sipping at her drink as if she were alone.
"You didn't enjoy that much, did you?" John asked after several minutes.
"Yes I did, John," Ellen protested as if shocked at his suggestion.
"I mean you didn't really come? I can tell when you're faking," John pressed.
He'd opened a beer and brought it with him into the living room.
"I wasn't faking," Ellen said. Her voice was tense with suppressed anger. "Anyway, how the hell would you know what I felt?"
"Hey, wait a minute. I didn't say I knew what you felt. I said that I can tell when you're faking it. And you were faking tonight."
"Oh, fuck off, will you!" Ellen said bitterly. She gulped her drink.
"Where the hell did you pick up that kind of language?" John was visibly shaken by her use of the word "fuck" and the way she'd used it.
"What's so wrong with it?"
"You never talked like that before," John pointed out. "Not in front of me anyway."
"Well, well, well. Now what do you mean by that little remark?"
"What?"
"Just what I said," John persisted. "I don't know anymore what you'd do."
"Can't you forget that? I thought we'd had had that out once and for all. Okay, I made a mistake that night. I was drunk. It didn't mean anything."
"I just meant...."
"I know what you just meant. Well, let me tell you what I'm doing. I'm prostituting myself every afternoon while you're at work. I go down to a local bar and pick up men. Then I go to bed with them. Suck them off or just fuck with them-it doesn't matter. Not as long as I get my fifty bucks." Ellen watched closely for John's response to what she'd said.
When it came, she realized that he didn't believe her. She'd told him the exact truth. Told him what he might even have suspected. Yet he didn't believe it. He could believe she was having an affair, but he couldn't believe the truth-that she was a call girl.
John was laughing. At first this angered Ellen. Then she joined in. It really was funny. He couldn't believe her when she told the truth.
"Hey, come on honey," John said, finally gaining control of his laughter. "Let's call it quits. I don't want to fight tonight."
"All right, dear," Ellen said. But she wondered wha he would do if he ever did find out.
She was glad in a way that he was going away for a week or more. At least that would give her time to think and get things straightened out.
At least she'd have that much time.
Ellen followed John into the bedroom, pulled a nightgown from the closet and slipped in on before crawling into bed beside her husband.
"Goodnight, dear," John said, kissing her on the lips gently.
"Goodnight, dear," Ellen replied but did not return the affection in his kiss.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SOME SEXY NEWS
Harvey Saunders sliced the mushrooms with the deft, fast strokes of a master cook. He, in fact, prided himself on his ability to turn out a meal that his guests would talk about for a week.
But tonight he was not cooking for guests. He was cooking for Peggy and himself. And he was taking special care to make it an exceptional meal.
It was a tradition with them, actually. They never went out on their anniversary. They celebrated at home. Alone. No one else was invited.
"That's how we recharge our marriage," Harvey had informed curious friends who had tried one year to stage an anniversary party but had failed because of both husband and wife's insistence on being alone on that date.
"And," he added with a playful elbow in the rib of the nearest friend, "it's always the sexiest night of the year. Bar none."
Everyone had laughed in appreciation, but Harvey doubted if they really understood what he meant about the ritual. And it really was a ritual, not just a habit, but an almost religious way they celebrated their marriage each year.
Harvey finished slicing the mushrooms and scattered them over the fresh fillets of sole he had arranged on the baking dish.
He had already heaped diced onions onto it. Now he poured a sauce that was a mixture of melted butter, anchovy paste, white wine and capers onto the top of the fish, onions and finely sliced mushrooms.
As he did this, he wondered what Peggy had in store for him tonight. She always had something that was designed to delight him. He did the cooking and she put on a little show for him afterwards.
They always ended up in bed for a long, wonderful night of sex afterwards.
One year Peggy had gone as far as to hide a camera in the bedroom and photograph them making love. She'd showed the film after dinner that anniversary night. It had started with a close up of them and then had showed that the fornicating couple was Peggy and him.
He'd been delighted.
The salad was all ready for the dressing so he went to the refrigerator and poured two glasses of chilled cocktail sherry.
The only rules for the night they had were that they ate well but not fillingly. And that they drank wine only and avoided getting so drunk that it would interfere with the night's festivities.
Harvey thought that it worked out very well that way.
Harvey carried the two drinks into the living room and sat them down on the couch next to Peggy.
She was wearing a long, flowing white evening gown that he had never seen before. He guessed that she had bought it specially for this night.
Her hair was combed long around her shoulders and showed off in flaring contrast to the white of the gown and the light color of her skin.
She wore just a trace of red coloring on her very full lips. That was accompanied only by a little eye make up that accentuated the light blue color of her eyes.
"To us," Harvey toasted.
Peggy smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before answering.
"To us."
They both sipped the liquor and sat back.
"It'll be about half an hour," Harvey said. "How about some music?"
"All right." Peggy got up from the couch and walked seductively across the room to the stereo.
"Anything in particular you want to hear?" she asked, swirling around to face him.
"Anything you want. Anything as long as it's sexy and romantic."
Peggy bent down to put a record on and he could see fully down the front of her dress.
He wondered how many husbands still got a kick out of seeing their wife's breasts when they bent over. It made him feel like a kid, but it was a good feeling.
Peggy straightened up and the marvelous white bulge of her breasts was once more hidden from view. He'd see it again later.
Peggy came back over, her breasts jostling a little under the gown announcing that she, of course, was not wearing a bra. Something Harvey had noticed when she'd bent over. He cupped one of her breasts and kissed her on the lips. It was not a hard kiss but one they found satisfying in its own private way.
"Behave yourself," Peggy chided with a teasing smile. "You'll see more of the lady later."
"Oh?" Harvey raised his eyebrows in mock shock. "I didn't think you were that kind of girl."
"I don't know what kind of girl you have in mind," Peggy teased, "but I'm the good kind."
"You sure are," Harvey agreed and kissed her neck.
"Save some for later."
"Don't worry, there's plenty more where that came from, believe me."
"I do ... I do."
The music came on. It was classical but not too heavy or overpowering.
* * *
The fish turned out deliciously. Peggy complimented him full and sincerely.
"I wish I could get you to cook every night," she teased him.
"Not on your life," Harvey answered. "I'm the weekend chef only."
"It's Wednesday night."
"Special occasion."
They ate slowly, washing down the tasty fish with a half bottle of champagne.
When they were through they took coffee and brandy into the living room.
Harvey refilled his glass with brandy and sat back waiting to see what Peggy had in store for him tonight. He lit a cigarette and waited.
Peggy went over to the stereo and changed the record. She put on a special record that she had bought several weeks ago for this occasion.
The music was deep and sensuous.
"I had a hard time finding this record," Peggy told him, standing in the middle of the living room floor, facing him and smiling.
The music was instrumental blues, both melodic and sensuous.
As the music filled the room, Peggy started swaying to it. She lead with her hips and the rest of her body followed.
As she danced she let her head fall back and the long red hair stream down her back. It seemed as if the music was synchronized with her pulse.
Both music and Peggy could have been one. She moved perfectly in time to the sexy beat.
Her hair was down to her waist in back and she brought it forward over her breasts.
She danced over to several candles on one side of the room and lit them, not losing the rhythm of the music at all. Then she went to the other side and lit more.
"Turn off the lights, darling," Peggy said. They were the only words she'd say during the whole dance.
Harvey obeyed and returned to his chair.
The gown Peggy was wearing took on a different look under the candle light. It was as if it became more flowing and free like flowing water.
Peggy's hands caught her hair and raised it about her head. Then she let it fall around her.
She whirled around with her back toward him, then bent her head down and brought her hair forward again.
When she turned back to face Harvey, he was shocked to see that she was naked from the waist up. Only her long red hair hid the marvelous white mounds of flesh from his searching eyes.
In her left hand was a wisp of material that had been the top of her dress.
Peggy continued to dance in front of him. As her body moved one way and another, the hair would fly away from her large breasts and he could see the big round nipples that tipped each one.
When she danced so that she was between the candles and where Harvey sat, the light shown through the garment and outlined the sensuous curves of her lovely full body.
Harvey was amazed at the strength of sexual desire she kindled in him, even after almost eight years of marriage.
"God, you're beautiful," he said without really knowing he was going to say it.
Peggy only smiled and continued to dance for him, thrusting her hips forward, circling them and gyrating in an imitation of the motions of sexual intercourse.
Then her hands were at the waist of the gown and she brought that part away from her too, but held it in front of her.
She captured the long white material between her thighs and held it behind her as well as in front. She ran the material over her pubic mound.
Then as she whirled again, Harvey saw that she was completely naked, hidden only by the placing of the material in front of her lithe body.
Harvey could feel the pressure of his erection under his clothes and longed to get up and take this beautiful woman into his arms.
But he knew he should wait until she was finished, so he did.
Next Peggy went down and spread herself on the floor. She was still clutching the white material between her thighs and she pulled it back and forth as if she was getting great pleasure from it.
Her hips moved in the rhythm of sexual intercourse, gyrating up and down.
She rolled onto her stomach and he could see the twin white mounds of the cheeks of her ass and the smooth rise of her flawless back over them.
Then he rolled to her knees, keeping the material in front of her, climbed to her feet and disappeared through the door to the bedroom.
It took Harvey less than thirty seconds to finish his brandy and join her inside.
He found her lying prone on the bed, her legs slightly spread. She was completely naked except for the white material that she had draped over her body.
"You may do the honors, sir," she said with a voice that showed the dance had excited her almost as much as it had excited him.
He reached down with a sense of wild anticipation and took hold of the cloth.
For a brief moment before he drew it from her naked body, he thought that it was a little silly to be so excited over just having his wife revealed to him nude. Yet the excitement was there.
He drew the drapery away from her body and saw her lying naked, waiting for him to join her.
He stripped of his clothes and with a sound in his throat that was mostly animal desire climbed onto the bed on top of her.
Her full lips parted for his first kiss and her tongue met his before their lips touched.
Her arms circled his neck and she pressed him to her with passion.
"I could hardly finish the dance," she whispered to him. "I just wanted you so much."
"I could hardly wait until you finished," Harvey confessed with a smile.
Then they didn't talk for a long time.
Her hips rose and fell with the even thrust of his penis deep into her vagina.
"Let me be on top," she said after twenty minutes. "Please, Harvey."
X "All right."
Soon Peggy was astride him. Harvey was lying back on the bed. Peggy sat, her legs to each side of his hips, his cock up hard into her cunt.
She moved up and down on his swollen prick. Harvey could see all of her in this position: her breasts, belly, pubic mound and the motion of his cock entering her cunt.
He reached up with both his hands and took a breast into each.
As Peggy regulated the rhythm of intercourse, he continued to massage her large breasts, fingering the nipples, raising his hips to shove his cock up harder into her open, damp and welcoming hole.
Peggy's rhythm, impaled on him as she was, increased as they continued until her breasts bobbed up and down wildly from the motion of her body rising and lowering over his cock. He thrust upward to meet her with each long stroke.
Her head was thrown back. Her long red hair hung down her back.
"I'm going to come," she cried. "Oh God, I'm going to come."
Her whole body vibrated on the pole of his prick. She leaned back and took his cock harder into her. She thrashed up and down on it.
Then with a high scream she reached her peak. Harvey thrust himself up hard into her and pumped his heavy load of sperm deep into her cunt.
Just as the last quivers of release were passing, the phone started ringing, its shrill bell cutting through the atmosphere of love and sexual satisfaction.
Harvey groped mechanically for it.
"Oh shit," he mumbled, grabbing the receiver. "Hello?" he said into it.
"Hey, hello?" A voice came over the receiver grating on Harvey's nerves.
"Harold?"
"Yeah, man. Who'd you think?"
"What the hell do you want at this hour of the fucking night?"
"Easy fella. Did I disturb something? Well I'm sorry, but I'm about to leave and there was a last detail we hadn't gone over so I thought I'd better call you...."
Harvey groaned. He put his hand over the mouth piece and turned to Peggy.
"Thomson. He wants to discuss business for christssake-at this hour."
Peggy lifted her eyes to the ceiling in a gesture meant to convey that she thought Thomson was a complete idiot, much less a fool and a pain in the ass.
Harvey forced himself to keep from laughing at her antics as she climbed from the bed.
"You there, buddy?" Harold's voice came over the wire and into his ear.
"Yeah, I'm here. What's the problem?" Harvey reached over and lit a cigarette.
He listened with what he hoped passed for patience to the other man explaining the business problem he wanted to talk over with him.
It was some silly little thing that Harvey thought the man should have been able to figure out by himself. What the hell? he thought finally.
He explained the solution to Harold Thomson and was ready to hang up.
Then:
"Hey buddy, you know much about Ellen Brand?" Harold asked him.
"Ellen Brand?" Harvey sucked in some smoke. "Yeah, a little bit. Why?"
"Is Peggy there?"
"She's in the other room."
"Well, I mean have you ever made it with her? You know, got it in her?"
"Why do you ask?" Harvey didn't like the way the conversation was going but apparently Harold knew something he didn't and he was determined to find out just what it was.
"Well, if you haven't, I suggest you try.
She's sure as hell willing, and man, she's something once she's in the sack. A real knockout, if you know what I mean. We made it together just this afternoon. Well, I mean I snatched a quick one off her at your party last weekend, but that was just a warm up. I'm taking off for home now, so I thought I'd let you in on a good thing, buddy. You've got to make it with her to believe it. A real bundle of lust, that one."
Harvey found it hard to believe what the man was telling him. I didn't make sense for Ellen to be going around jumping into bed with other men. She never struck him as the type for that sort of thing.
"Well, I figured you'd like to know if you hadn't found out on your own already," Harold was going on. "Man, those tits are something else. And that golden pussy of hers-most delicious thing I ever ate. She does a good one with her mouth, too. You ought to try it."
As Harold went on, Harvey was feeling decidedly uneasy about the whole thing.
He wondered what made some men feel as if they had to brag about the women they screwed.
"Well, you know, thanks for letting me know," Harvey said finally. "But, look now, I don't think you should spread any of this around. After all, she does have a husband and ... Harvey paused, trying to think of something that would reach Harold and his frame of mind. Finally he was sure that he'd found the key.
"Harold," he started, "keep it under your hat. I mean, if her husband finds out that she's running around on the side, that's going to be the end of a good thing. Know what I mean? You'll ruin it for everybody, including yourself.
"Hey, I know what you mean," Harold said as if the thought had just dawned on him. "Well, I ain't told anybody but you and only that because you're a friend."
"Yeah, sure," Harvey said, a bad taste starting in his mouth. "Well, take it easy, buddy."
"Yeah, you too."
"So long." Harvey hung up though he knew that Harold would have liked to add a few more choice lines about what a great lay Ellen Brand was.
Harvey got up and headed out of the bedroom. He needed a drink badly and he needed to think.
CHAPTER NINE
UP ELLEN'S ROUGHLY
Ellen stood before him dressed only in the brief white lace of her bra and panties. She was standing over by the door and watching the man wearily.
This guy was different than most of the others. She'd at first had a strong impulse to give him the cold shoulder when he tried to pick her up in a bar where she was spending most of her afternoons now. That is, most of her afternoons until she found a customer.
Yet, despite a feeling of fear, she had allowed him to pick her up and had gone with him to a hotel room.
The room was in a cut rate hotel. From the outside she had expected it to be dirty and old. Instead, it was just dingy.
He was a tall strapping he-man type blond guy. There was a scar down one side of his neck that looked like he'd had it for a long time. The expression on his face which was not at all bad looking, never seemed to change. In that way he seemed not quite to be human. He greeted everything with the same cold, objective look, even her nudity as she stood before him now.
He had stripped off his shirt and had the physique of a weight lifter. It wasn't a type of male physique she normally found attractive.
Normally the customer by now would have felt her up or tried to kiss her, but for a long time this character just stood there looking at her.
She felt uncomfortable under his intense gaze. Even more uncomfortable because she couldn't read what was behind the dark eyes.
"Come here," he finally ordered. The tone of his voice frightened her. It was cold, hard, and showed no compassion or even sexual desire.
"Come here, I said," he commanded again.
Ellen took in a deep breath and walked over until she stood directly in front of him.
He stared at her for a long time, then his heavy palm shot out and crashed across her face hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.
She fell slightly to the side and caught herself on the bed.
"Get on the bed," he commanded in the same cold, frightened voice.
For a minute she thought of running or screaming. She glanced towards the door, which was a mistake. He saw her eyes move.
"Don't try to run or scream unless you want to be taken in on a prostitution charge and attempted robbery. I won't hesitate to call the cops and say you tried to roll me once you got me into the room."
He paused to let what he had just said sink in completely before once more ordering her onto the bed.
"Now," he emphasized.
Ellen obeyed and climbed onto the bed, wishing she had followed her first instincts and not allowed him to pick her up in the first place.
He'd been carrying a flight bag when he picked her up and he went over to it now and withdrew several lengths of leather.
"Don't worry, baby, you'll be well paid for this and I won't mess you up any. Just a little fun, that's all I'm after."
He methodically tied her spreadeagle on the bed with the length of leather.
"Well, now," he said finally, "you look nice and pretty lying there."
His hand reached out and grabbed the middle of her bra where it stretched between her breasts. With a strong yank he tore the material away from her body and flung it aside.
"Don't ruin it," Ellen pleaded too late. She fought to hold back tears of fear which were welling up behind her eyes.
The tall man just laughed at her then slapped her across the face again.
The tears escaped from her eyes and rolled down the side of her face.
"Please," she pleaded, "let me go. I don't like this kind of thing. Go find a girl who enjoys it, or is at least willing to do it."
"That wouldn't be half the fun," he said as if he'd thought it all out before.
Next his hands went to the top of her panties. One good yank ripped them from her body so Ellen lay tied spreadeagle on the bed before him, completely naked now and feeling terribly vulnerable.
His hands returned to her breasts and massaged them roughly.
"Stop it," Ellen ordered.
"Not on your life, baby. I'm getting what I've paid for."
As he continued to hurt her breasts, Ellen forced her mind to think of other things, anything she could think of that was pleasant.
Yet she found that she had few things pleasant to think about anymore.
His lips crushed down on her mouth. He forced his tongue between her teeth.
For a split second she thought of biting him hard as she could but decided against it because that would only make him angry and he already had her helpless there on the bed, right where he wanted her.
A heavy hand probed between her legs and he stuck several fingers hard up her hole. It hurt at first but then her juices started lubricating the entrance so that the intruding fingers would not damage her.
Then he got up and stood by the bed. He pulled off his trousers. His large penis stood erect pointing at her as she tested the strength of her bonds and found that she could not escape at all.
"You're quite beautiful my dear," he said, looking at her. "You've got a nice hole there. I'm going to enjoy this immensely."
"Good for you." Ellen spat at him before her mind could stop her.
"Oh, you have fight, don't you? I like that in my women."
"Bastard," she spat.
"Good ... very good."
Then he threw himself painfully between her thighs and thrust his large prick deep up her hole.
Ellen struggled under him trying to eject him from her body.
He pumped at her for a long time, then withdrew. Ellen knew from the feel of it that he had not finished inside her and wondered what was coming.
"I've got a better idea," he said.
She didn't like the tone of voice he'd said that in. Once more the fear built up in her.
"Now you lie still and do what I say or you're going to get that pretty face of yours messed up a little bit," he ordered fiercely.
He started untying each of her hands and feet. She remained where she lay.
"Now turn over."
"What?"
"I said turn over. Roll onto your stomach," he insisted in that same hard voice.
Ellen obeyed, wondering what the hell he was going to do with her like that.
When she was on her stomach he retied her hands and feet to the bed.
"What an ass," he said as if in genuine appreciation of the buttocks before him.
"Gee, thanks."
"You're pretty uppity for a whore," he spat out at her in anger.
Ellen wanted to retort that he was acting pretty tough for a man who had to pay for his women, but thought better of it.
From where she was lying and the position she was in, Ellen couldn't see him, but she was sure that he'd returned to his bag.
She strained to turn her head but felt the beginnings of pain in her neck muscles and gave up the attempt. She'd find out soon enough.
Then she felt a cold hand on her ass cheeks. She felt a finger pressing between them and finding the entrance to her asshole.
"Beautiful ... beautiful," he said.
She heard the top of a jar turning off; felt the finger leave her and return seconds later.
It felt greasy now and he slipped it into her tight asshole.
It was painful and she thought disgusting at the same time.
Why the hell would anyone want to stick their finger up someone's ass?
She couldn't find an answer to that but seemed to remember that there was a perversion that made people want to have intercourse through the ass.
Was that what he was going to do? Stick his big cock up there?
But her fears were confirmed when she felt something much larger than a finger pressing at the tight entrance of her ass.
She also felt the weight of his body against her back and knew what he was doing.
"You cooperate and it ain't going to hurt as much," he told her.
But she couldn't bring herself to help him enter the tight hole.
She contracted her muscles in the hope that it would stop his entrance.
But immediately his finger plunged in and circled there until the muscles were loose again.
Then his prick returned and pressed past the entrance, its big head stretching the muscles painfully.
He thrust and thrust trying to gain more entrance to her, but she continued to fight him.
Despite her struggle he continued through, jabbing her painfully until she felt a burst of wetness in her and felt him relaxing on top of her.
"You've got a sweet little asshole there, baby. Ought to see it more often."
He got up from her. The pain was still severe even though he was no longer in her.
"I'm going to untie you," the man said once he was completely dressed and had repacked his bag. "Your clothes are in the bathroom."
"You fucking bastard," Ellen spat.
"I'm leaving the money on the dresser. I'm sure it's more than you usually get."
She heard him open the door.
"So long, baby," he said and was gone.
CHAPTER TEN
WOMAN TO WOMAN
"The rotten bastard," the woman said, handing Ellen a well made martini. "But don't worry, honey, you'll get so you can spot that kind a mile away-then you can avoid them."
"Sure," Ellen said and took a long sip of the martini she'd been given.
Ellen had met Florence at the bar where they both picked up men to-as some would say it-"ply their trade." Still, Ellen did not think of herself as a prostitute. Or hadn't until she'd talked to Florence.
Florence was slightly older than Ellen, yet she had maintained a good figure and took meticulous care of her face and body.
"It's a business investment," Florence had told her, "part of expenses."
Ellen had not wanted to go directly home. The house would be empty-even though she hadn't been getting along with John lately, he was at least someone who was in the house.
Without him it was lonely.
Florence had been the one who'd struck up the conversation when Ellen had got back to the bar after her terrifying episode with the tall man.
"He give you a rough time, honey?" Florence had asked, sliding into the booth next to Ellen when Ellen had returned to the bar.
Ellen was wary of saying anything. At first she thought Florence might be a policewoman. But Florence read her mind.
"Don't worry, baby, we're one of a kind. I ply the trade myself." Florence had smiled and placed a hand warmly over Ellen's.
"Yeah, it was rough," Ellen had admitted finally after looking the woman over.
Florence had dark' brown hair. It was pretty, short, and naturally curly. Her face was round but not fat. Her features, smooth, even, and attractive.
She wore a little too much makeup though, Ellen thought, but didn't say anything.
"You look like you could use a drink," Florence said, keeping her hand on Ellen's.
"Yeah, I sure could."
"Why don't you come over to my place. I can let you in on some of the tricks of the trade, so to speak. Besides, the drinks in this place are way overpriced."
"All right," Ellen had agreed.
"Good." The woman took her hand from Ellen's. She smiled broadly.
"I haven't had any good company in so long I forget what it's like," Florence said and climbed out of the booth. "Let's go."
Now Ellen was seated comfortably on a large, red, overstuffed sofa in Florence's apartment. She had just finished telling Florence the whole story of her experience with the tall man and the telling of it and the strong martinis had made her feel better.
"Yeah, you get some weird ones some times, all right," Florence was saying. "I've run into a couple myself and they weren't anything I care to remember."
"I can imagine you do get able to spot them after a while," Ellen said.
"Sure thing, honey. I can tell a weird one from three blocks away-by the way he walks, the way he carries himself, and how he talks."
"I'd better learn quick then, because I couldn't take another like him."
"You been at it long?" Florence asked, sitting in a chair across from Ellen.
"No. He was only about my fifth date," she said. "It hasn't been long."
"You hit one early then. But you're lucky-you'll recover from this one."
"What do you mean?" Ellen had her legs crossed tightly. She was very conscious that she wore no underwear under the light dress. The man had ripped her panties and bra too badly for them to be usable.
"Oh, well, some of them get really mean. I had to have plastic surgery done on one side of my face after one john got crazy and put a knife to me."
"That's awful," Ellen said. She'd never realized how hard it could be.
"I lived."
"I thought all the real weirdos would be in the city-not out here."
"Honey," Florence leaned forward and placed a hand over Ellen's, " the only difference between here and the city-basic difference that is-is that here all the weirdos are making good money."
"Florence?"
"Yes."
"Do you think I should keep it up? I mean stay with this thing?"
"That's up to you, honey. I can't tell you what to do with your life-except for creeps like you ran into today. For the most part it's pretty easy money."
"But I don't really need the money," Ellen said.
"What is it then?" Florence asked, a questioning look deep in her eyes.
So Ellen told her the whole story from the night of the party when she'd surprised herself by spreading her legs for Harold Thomson, up to the afternoon she'd just been through and its terrors.
Florence was a good listener. She didn't interrupt, but let Ellen tell her story in her own way, holding off questions until the end.
Finally Florence said, "You go in now and take yourself a shower and wash that man off you. I'll fix some more drinks and when you're finished we'll talk some more."
"All right."
"I'll bring you in a robe. That'll be more comfortable than street clothes."
Florence got up and showed the younger woman where the bathroom was.
* * *
Ellen let the water run as hot as she could stand it over her nude body. She lathered up and rinsed off with more hot water.
"You about through, honey?" Florence's voice called to her.
Ellen jumped.
"I didn't hear you come in," Ellen told her. The water was too loud.
Florence drew away the curtain.
"I'm leaving the robe in the door," she said.
Ellen noticed that the woman was looking at her with rather more interest than women usually took in another woman's body.
"All right," Ellen said. She was tempted to draw the curtain closed again, but Florence did it of her own accord and left Ellen alone once more.
When Ellen heard the door shut, she climbed out of the shower and turned the water off. She dried herself briskly, feeling really clean for the first time in several long, hard days.
Her flesh had taken on the flush of well-scrubbed, healthy flesh.
Her hair had gotten wet so she took one of Florence's brushes and brushed it straight down her back. She really didn't care if she had to comb it out later.
The robe that Florence had left was a nightgown. It was a light blue shade and semi-transparent.
Ellen put it on and examined herself in the mirror. She had to admit that Florence had impeccably good taste when it came to clothes.
The color of the nightgown went very well with Ellen's blonde hair and light skin.
When Ellen walked into the living room once again, Florence was over by the bar mixing two more martinis. Ellen felt more relaxed than she had in a long time and she settled herself on the sofa.
"Dry and very cold," Florence said, bringing the drinks over.
"That's great," Ellen said.
Florence, instead of returning to the chair in which she had previously sat, sat instead on the sofa close by Ellen's side.
"Here you are, dear." Florence's hand touched hers as Ellen took the glass.
"You make a wonderful martini, Florence," Ellen said, taking her first sip.
"Thank you. I'm really glad you like them. They're very strong."
Ellen smiled, "Yes, I know."
"Feel better after your shower, dear?" Florence asked. Her hand covered Ellen's again.
"Yes. I appreciate all you've done for me this afternoon. Really I do."
"That's all right. I was glad to do it. I don't find many people I can talk openly with," Florence said, a touch of sadness creeping into her voice.
"I know," Ellen said, feeling a strong compassion for the slightly older woman. "I've felt the same thing for the last couple weeks. There's just no one else you can talk to without being guarded."
Ellen's hand was still covered by Florence's. Florence squeezed the younger woman's hand.
"You're really a very beautiful woman, Ellen," Florence said.
To Ellen the words sounded very much like the way a man would talk to a woman.
"Why thank you, Florence. I find you very attractive, too."
"Do you?"
"Yes, I certainly do," Ellen said. "You're a very attractive woman."
Florence had increased the pressure of her hand on Ellen's hand.
Ellen felt the large weight of one of Florence's breasts press against her arm. She felt the warmth of the other woman's body very close to her own.
Florence ran a hand through Ellen's hair gently like a lover would.
"So beautiful."
In the instant before she did it, Ellen knew that Florence was going to kiss her.
Yet Ellen was not frightened or put off by the knowledge. She just waited.
Florence's full lips pressed against Ellen's cheek, then travelled to her lips.
At first, the kiss was gentle. Ellen caught a whiff of peppermint. Then Florence's tongue licked out and over Ellen's lips.
Soon Ellen opened her lips under the insistence of Florence's tongue and accepted her tongue into her mouth. Her own tongue soon engaged that of the other woman and the kiss grew into a passionate one.
As they kissed, Ellen felt very comfortable as the older woman's arms came around her, cradling her to her large, warm breasts.
Then the woman's hand reached out and cupped one of Ellen's breasts.
At first her fingers stayed outside of Ellen's robe but then, not satisfied by only that contact, Florence's had slipped inside to touch the bare flesh beneath.
Her thumb and forefinger took Ellen's nipple between them and rolled it.
Ellen's nipples immediately became hard. The flesh around it puckered in excitement.
"You are so beautiful, my dear," Florence breathed when the kiss was finally broken.
Ellen lay her head back and looked up into the other woman's eyes.
She saw Florence lowering her face for another kiss and sighed deeply just before their lips met. Their tongues pressed out to each other.
Once more Florence's hand was on Ellen's breast. Then the hand moved down over Ellen's belly and down further until she cupped her pubic mound.
A slim finger slipped deftly into the entrance of Ellen's hole.
Ellen, beginning to feel the beginnings of desire, reached her own hand out and took one of Florence's large breasts into it.
The nipple, hard and almost seeming to pulsate, could be felt through the material of Florence's own gown. Ellen arched her body up against Florence's hand.
"We'd be more comfortable in the bedroom, my dear," Florence breathed.
"All right," Ellen nodded, much like a little girl doing what mother asked.
Florence led Ellen into the bedroom and the lavish bed with silken sheets of pale pastel yellow.
Ellen dropped her robe and placed herself down on the smooth sheets.
Florence quickly undressed and joined her on the large bed.
* * *
Soon Ellen was lying back, her knees were up, her legs spread.
Florence was positioned near the bottom of the bed. Her head was between Ellen's thighs. Her tongue pressed deeply into Ellen's wet cunt.
Ellen could feel the surges of sexual excitement going through her own body. She had never had relations with a woman, but the pressure of Florence's mouth and tongue on her twat was driving her crazy. It was a much different feeling than being fucked by a man. The tongue was soft and not as demanding as a man's prick. At the same time, the excitement, the waves of lust, were just as great. It was only that they were on a different plane. Both experiences were wonderful. They were, however, decidedly different.
Ellen found she was moaning softly under the woman's experienced mouth. Florence's lips closed around Ellen's clitoris and sucked it into her mouth.
Ellen's hips writhed under the ministering of the woman's tongue and lips.
Ellen was thankful that she was having her first experience with a woman with Florence.
"Just relax," Florence had told her. "I'll do most of the work this time. I'll be amply rewarded later." The woman smiled before lowering her head to Ellen's genitals.
Ellen felt Florence's mouth working faster now, her tongue dipping in and out, her lips kissing and sucking her clit into her mouth.
Ellen spread her legs wider and realized abruptly that she was indeed ready to climax.
The waves of desire broke within her.
Florence, realizing this, varied her tempo to accommodate until Ellen lay exhausted on the yellow sheets.
"Did you enjoy that, dear?" Florence asked.
"Yes. Very much."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE FUCKING FACTS
Florence watched Ellen walk out of the bar with the well-dressed businessman she had picked up less than fifteen minutes before.
She smiled quietly to herself. Later, they would be together again.
Then there was the party that Ellen had agreed to attend the next night. It was really business since both of the women would be well paid. They would, in fact, be paid over a hundred dollars apiece.
Florence ordered another drink and sat sipping it slowly, absorbed in her own thoughts. She barely noticed the tall red head entering the bar. But the girl or woman was so striking that even though Florence only caught her out of the comer of her eye, she had to study her further.
Somewhere deep inside Florence a prickling desire started building. She wondered if this girl had come in as a call girl or as a customer. Every once in a while a woman would come in wanting to satisfy her lesbian needs and purchasing a woman to do it.
Florence found herself hoping that that was the case with this new woman.
She'd never seen the woman before but she had a magnificent body and the free flowing grace that reminded Florence of a large jungle cat.
Florence returned her attention to her drink but watched the new woman out of the comer of her eye. As she drank she realized that the woman, who had positioned herself at a booth near the entrance, was watching her.
Florence felt her pulse leap a little. She was interested then, she thought.
Florence waited for several minutes to see if the new woman would make any attempt to make contact with her beside sitting there watching her.
Finally, realizing that if they were to get together, that she would have to be the one to instigate it, Florence got off the bar stool and approached the other woman's booth slowly.
"Hello there," Florence said.
"Hi." The woman smiled broadly if nervously up at Florence.
"May I sit down?"
"Why certainly."
Florence positioned herself across from the exciting new woman.
"My name's Florence."
"Mine's ... ah, Lillian."
Florence knew she was lying but realized that most of them did.
"Do you come here often? I haven't seen you here before."
"No, this is my-ah-first time."
Florence could tell that the new woman was terribly nervous and decided to try and calm her down. She was probably here for her first experience with a woman. Maybe the urge had built up so high in her that she couldn't ignore it but didn't want to approach any women she knew.
Or maybe she didn't know any women who were "like that" to approach.
That was silly though, Florence thought. More women were "like that" than people thought. Not completely-but at least willing for relations with other women.
"It's a beautiful day out. It's a shame to waste it in a dark place like this."
"Yes, it is," the new woman agreed.
"Why don't we go for a walk through the park. Then if we want a drink we can go up to my place."
"All right."
* * *
Florence stood very close to the new woman. They were in Florence's apartment and Florence had just handed the girl a drink.
Florence reached a hand out and ran it through the woman's flaming red hair.
The red head pulled back from her. "Florence, I have to talk to you," the woman said.
"What about, honey?"
"Well ... I didn't come here for what you think. And my name's not Lillian."
"Hell, I know that. They never use their real names with me."
"You don't understand."
"Don't I?"
"My real name's Peggy Saunders. I'm a friend of Ellen Brand's."
"So?"
"So I want to find out what's wrong with her. What's happened to her in the last few weeks. My husband and I know that she's been seeing other men than her husband-but why?"
"Look, honey, I don't want any trouble and I'm not paid to make conversation. If you don't mind I'll just go back to the bar and get on with the afternoon's work."
"I'll pay you to talk. As much or more than you'd get if I was a real customer."
"How much?"
"A hundred dollars. Take it or leave it."
"You must have something invested in this chick," Florence said, draining her glass.
"I do. She's a friend of mine."
Florence looked up at her suspiciously.
"Are you on the level?" Florence asked, one eyebrow arched.
"Yes, it's like I said. Ellen's a friend of mine and I want to help before she ruins her marriage."
"You figure it's any of your business?" Florence asked, still puzzled.
"She's a friend-that makes it my business."
"You sure you aren't interested in ... ah."
"I'm sure."
"All right. We'll talk then. For a hundred bucks you can take all afternoon."
* * *
"I don't believe it," Harvey said. He almost dropped the glass of scotch he'd been drinking when Peggy came in.
"It's true," Peggy said. She looked close to tears.
"Jesus H. Christ." Harvey scratched his head and pushed his glasses higher on his nose. "But what caused the whole thing?"
"I guess she had too much going on having children. She fell apart."
"I guess I can see that," Harvey said, fixing himself another drink and handing a refill to Peggy. "But we've got to do something before all hell breaks loose and the shit hits the fan."
"I know-but what?"
"Where's John now?" Harvey wanted to know, sipping his new drink.
"Some hotel in Boston. I'm not sure which one, really."
"Do you think you could find him there?"
"Sure, I guess so. But why don't you go up there and talk to him?"
"Peggy, dear, there are some things that can only be done by a woman and handling a man is that type of thing, so I think it's better if you go-"
"But what can I do? Hold his handkerchief?"
"You'll have to do whatever is needed at the time."
"Should I bring him back?"
"That'll have to be left up to him," Harvey said. He realized something that might happen up there in Boston and felt a quick tinge of pain. But then that might be the best way for John.
"I think the woman knew where Ellen was going to be this weekend, but she insisted she didn't know. What happens if John comes back tomorrow night and we can't find Ellen? Then what?"
"We'll find her," Harvey said, wishing he was as sure of that as he sounded.
"I'll leave that up to you, Harv."
"I've got some phone calls to make," Harvey announced. "I'd better get to them. You may as well pack a small bag and get ready to fly up tomorrow."
Peggy came over and kissed him warmly on the mouth.
"I hope we're doing the right thing."
"So do I."
* * *
When Peggy left the room, Harvey dialed a private number.
"Look," he was saying minutes later, "this is a private deal. I just want you to keep your eyes out for somebody and for Christ's sake don't arrest her or do anything foolish. I just want to know where I can find her."
Harvey listened to the phone and lit a cigarette with his free hand.
"By tomorrow night," he told the party on the other line, "or sooner."
"Yes, I mean tomorrow night."
"Look, I appreciate this. Anything you do I appreciate. Just try your damndest, huh?"
"Okay, I'll be hearing from you. Thanks a lot."
Harvey hung up and stared at the smoke spiraling towards the ceiling.
He was beginning to have second thoughts about his plan but he couldn't turn back on it. He had to do everything he could.
But maybe he should have waited until John got back from his trip.
But maybe he should have done a lot of things that he'd never done....
CHAPTER TWELVE
PEGGY PUTS OUT
John's head was on Peggy's breast. They were sitting next to each other on the bed of his hotel room and she had just gotten through telling him the whole story-or as much of it as she knew.
She could feel the stiffness in the man and the effort to keep himself from crying, yet he remained reasonably controlled.
She'd mixed strong drinks for both of them before telling him and they were half finished.
She'd had a hell of a time finding him-that was for sure. She'd called practically every hotel in Boston from the airport before finally finding one which had a John Brand registered there.
Then she'd found that he wasn't expected back until about six, so she'd had to waste half a day wandering around the streets and stores.
At least she had an excuse to be in Boston. Her mother lived there, but she had been out all day, too.
But she had told John at first that she'd been in town to see her mother and that she'd decided to look him up. Then he'd joked about what Harvey would say if he knew she'd come to his hotel room.
Then she'd fixed drinks and somehow managed to get up the courage to tell him.
"Peggy, Peggy ... what am I going to do?" John asked like a little boy addressing his mother.
Peggy instinctively patted his head and ran her fingers through his hair.
"I don't know, John. I wish I did. Harvey's trying to locate Ellen now. She hasn't been home in two days now, but I'm sure she's all right."
John looked up at her and she gathered him into her arms, feeling the stiffness of his body against her breasts and stomach.
John broke away and went to fix himself another drink. He gulped it down.
Peggy got up and went over to him.
"Don't get drunk, John. Please don't do that. Not tonight."
John looked at Peggy and almost instinctively put his arms around her as if seeking strength from the warmth of her body.
It was then that Peggy knew what had to happen there. She knew it and accepted it even though she could push him off.
Maybe she should push him off. She didn't know, but she had to go along with what she thought necessary as Harvey had said.
She wondered if Harvey had known what would be necessary to help put John back on his feet. Maybe he had. Maybe that was why he'd been so quiet when they'd gone to bed.
They hadn't even made love, but both of them had been upset and tired.
John's first tentative kiss on her cheek did not come as any surprise then.
She turned her lips to his and accepted his lips willingly on hers.
His hands pressed her breasts and she put her arms around him and drew him to her hard. She could feel the stirring of his cock against her and knew that he would make it. But he had to prove privately in some way that Ellen's behavior had not stripped him of his manhood.
Peggy was sure she knew the best way for that. And she was willing to do it.
Yet she also knew that he might back out of it thinking he was taking advantage of her and suffering under the ego attack of telling himself he'd done something wrong or Ellen wouldn't be behaving the way she was.
"Yes, yes, John," Peggy whispered in his ear, covering his hands with hers and pressing them into her large, ripe breasts.
She started undoing his shirt. When he was naked to the waist, she unzipped his pants.
His cock was hard and pressing out.
Quickly Peggy undressed to her panties.
She felt John's unsteady hand on the white fullness of her breasts, felt his lips search out and take her nipple into his mouth as his passion grew.
"Come, please, John. I really do want you to make love to me."
She led him to the bed and lay down on it. She slipped out of her panties and held her arms up for him to come to her.
Then she felt the weight of his body between her legs. She spread them further, reaching down her hand and wrapping it around his hard prick.
She drew it to the entrance of her hole and then his first thrust drove it up deep into her cunt.
"Oh, yes, yes," Peggy whispered to him, her arms around him pressing his body against her as his prick started pumping its need into her.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust forward with her hips.
She had planned to fake it, but realized with some surprise that her own passion had built, thriving on her concern and affection for this man who lay between her legs and was thrusting his heavy cock deep inside her.
"Oh God, yes . ... Oh please, it's good. I mean it, it's really good, John," she panted.
His thrusts came harder and faster. Peggy could feel herself building up to a climax.
"Harder ... please do it harder."
She moaned and twisted under him trying to take more of his cock deep into her.
"Harder, harder," she moaned.
Then she felt the climax coming. She was thrashing under him as he was thrashing over her.
The last thrust drove his cock full length into her and she could feel the warmth of his sperm spreading inside the tunnel between her thighs.
"We'd better go," John said much later. "I'll call for reservations."
"I'll help you pack," Peggy said and for the first time since learning Ellen's secret, genuinely felt like she could give a tentative smile.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PARTY PUSSY
Ellen could feel the sexual excitement in the room as she danced clad only in brief bikini panties in front of the party.
They really liked it, she thought and ran her hands over her naked breasts. The nipples were hard and standing out..
She didn't know how much she had drunk, but her head was spinning.
She saw, through a slight blur, that Florence, completely naked now, was coming out to her in the center of the floor where she was.
She felt Florence's hands on her breasts and heard the approving cat calls from the audience of partygoers.
A hundred bucks she was getting for this. And it wasn't too bad.
But who was she kidding? Ellen found that she couldn't go for more than half an hour without a drink. Now she had a martini in the morning instead of coffee and orange juice.
But she had no idea what she was going to do. She couldn't even stop by herself. And she felt that she had no reason to stop anyway. What was there waiting for her otherwise?
She continued to dance, feeling the warmth of Florence's lips pressing on hers.
Then Florence's lips were travelling down her body, down over her belly until they reached the top of her panties. There they paused.
Fingers were on the side of her panties and Ellen realized that Florence was undressing her the rest of the way her lips following the exposed flesh as the panties went down over her legs.
She kicked them away and felt Florence's mouth press between her thighs.
Ellen spread her thighs so the woman's tongue could find her cunt.
"Hey, let me in on some of that," a man called, coming into the circle.
Ellen looked at him but couldn't make out if she'd met him or not.
It didn't matter anyway.
The man's hand went to her breasts. Then she realized that Florence had backed off and that the man's fingers were deep into her cunt.
"You're something, honey," the man said. "You want a nice fuck?"
"Whatever you want, honey," Ellen said automatically. She felt herself being pushed backwards until her back came up against something cold and smooth.
Ellen knew she had been backed against a wall and she felt the man's hands pushing his erect but not too large penis at the entrance of her cunt.
She spread her legs wide and reached down to help him. What difference did it make if one more fucked her? They were all the same.
She felt his prick coming into her and automatically pumped her hips back and forth as he fucked her.
It had become the automatic gestures of the prostitute. Ellen felt little or nothing, just a vague knowledge that someone was fucking her.
"This is too hard," the man said finally, his breath panting from him.
"All right," Ellen said and slid down to the floor, lying on her back and automatically spreading her legs for him to come in her again.
The man continued to pump his prick into her.
Then she felt something wet on her face and realized that someone else was trying to get his prick into her mouth.
She opened her mouth and the prick entered. As automatically as she'd thrust her hips forward, Ellen began sucking on the cock between her legs.
The man fucking her between the legs finished up and moved away. The man in her mouth started to move down to her cunt.
Suddenly Ellen felt stone cold sober. She had a terrible headache but everything wasn't as confused as it had been.
There was one great urge in her now and that was to get the hell out of there and back to her own home where she could work things out.
Ellen shoved the man trying to enter her away.
"Hey, what's the matter, baby? Don't you want any more fucking?"
Ellen didn't reply but went straight for the bedroom where she'd left her clothes. She couldn't find her panties so she just put on the dress and grabbed the thin summer coat and forced her way through the crowd.
Hands reached out for her. Voices called to her offering every kind of sexual activity if she'd stay.
She didn't pay any attention to them but doggedly made her way to the door and out of the apartment. She went to the elevator just as one reached the floor coming up.
She waited for the men to get out of the elevator then started in.
But one of the men grabbed her arm and flashed his wallet in front of her.
"Police, lady. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
Two men stayed in the hall with Ellen while five others went to the apartment she'd just come out of.
Bursts of screaming followed.
* * *
Harvey greeted John and Peggy at the door solemnly. He hadn't gone to pick them up because he had wanted to stay by the phone in case Ellen was located.
When they came in he realized what had happened up in Boston. He felt a quick pain but knew that he had expected it and would have been surprised if it had not happened.
Just as he handed them a drink the phone rang and he rushed to answer it.
"Oh, Christ," he said and it was so loud Peggy and John heard it in the other room.
"Well, what did you do?" Harvey demanded.
He listened intently.
"All right. We'll be right down. No, keep her separated from the others. Right. Thanks. Bye."
He hung up and hurried back into the living room.
"Ellen's down at the police station," he said curtly. "We'd better go pick her up. They're holding her separately from the others. There was some kind of party or something that got raided."
"Oh Christ," John said.
There was an awkward silence.
"I'd better go by myself," John said finally, squaring his shoulders.
"All right," Peggy and Harvey said at once. "Look, I think I'd like you two there when we hash this thing out. You know, like referees so neither of us gets really out of hand."
"All right," Harvey said, "I think that would be a good idea myself."
"I'll bring her back here then," John said. "Sure, we've got plenty of scotch."
"You always have plenty of scotch." John managed a smile, not knowing how, except in a way it was a relief to know that the worst had happened so that you didn't have to worry about it any more.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A FITTING CLIMAX
John and Ellen Brand drove into the Saunders' driveway making their way through the pile up of cars that had gathered.
Harvey ran out to greet them.
"That's the second year in a row you've managed to get the last parking place back there," he said, shaking John's hand and kissing Ellen on the cheek.
"How are you two doing?" Harvey then asked.
They both smiled at him sheepishly.
"All right."
"It's going to be a good party. Our annual party always is."
Soon Peggy, Harvey, Ellen and John were in the kitchen. They had their first drinks and Ellen was helping Peggy finish off the food for the party.
John was in a reflective mood tonight. He could remember the aftereffects of his last party though the party had only been an incidental part in the whole complex picture.
He watched Ellen working with Peggy and he wondered how they were really doing.
Several things he did know.
First he knew that Ellen had gone into psychotherapy soon after John had gotten her released from jail and the charges dropped.
He also knew that they had adopted a child. She was a gorgeous little girl they'd named after Peggy. Harvey was proud of that fact.
In fact, he was proud of the role they'd played in the whole affair.
Sure it might have worked out well for them anyway or it might have floundered. Yet he felt that they had helped it go the right way.
"Hey, by the way," Peggy piped up, looking up from the cutting board.
"By the way what?" John said.
"We've got some great news for you. Or rather, Harvey does."
"Now what could that be?" Ellen asked.
Her face still looked a little strained and she definitely looked overtired.
Harvey wondered if they were having fights or not. They certainly had fought like cats and dogs the night Ellen arrived from jail sheepishly following John into the house.
She'd looked like a condemned prisoner, stoop shouldered and wary of everyone and everything.
That had been another decision that had worked out all right.
They had been correct in suggesting that John and Ellen fight it out in front of them.
No, Harvey realized, it had been John who'd suggested that. At any rate it had worked out well because both John and Ellen had tended to bring up every little grievance they'd ever had against each other.
It had been a genuine Virginia Wolfe, kitchen sink fight, yet it had to be dealt with.
Surprisingly enough they both calmed down after accusing each other of every crime, misdemeanor, lack of caring, lack of love, negligence, selfishness, arrogance, impotence, sterility, and stupidity in the book.
The good thing about it though was that afterwards the air had been cleared enough so they all could get refills of scotch and sit back close to laughing.
"That was one hell of a fight," John had said afterwards, sipping his refreshed drink.
"It sure was," everyone else had agreed.
And it had gone on from there. Gone on quite sanely and calmly too.
"So what's this great announcement?" Ellen pressed Peggy.
"Harvey has finally written a book," Peggy announced.
"I'll be damned," Ellen exclaimed. She ran over to Harvey and kissed him. "Good luck on it. You know we wish you the best."
Had it been almost a year ago? John wondered. Sometimes it seemed like years. Sometimes it seemed like last week that it had happened.
Yet it had been almost a year ago.
"We have an announcement too," Ellen said beaming and taking a sip from her drink.
"Oh?" Peggy said.
Little Peggy Brand was a gorgeous child, Harvey was thinking. As good as being their own. She even had blonde hair like her adopted mother.
"Harvey, you're not paying attention."
"Huh? What dear?"
"Ellen has an announcement for us too," Peggy exclaimed, smiling at him.
"Oh, well. Let's hear it."
"I'm going to have a baby," Ellen blurted, tears starting to fill her eyes.
"No kidding?" Peggy said, embracing her. "Why that's really great."
"The doctor thought it was impossible and he warned me that this would be it. It's going to be difficult but he thinks he can pull us through. But he says it would be too dangerous to try for more. But at least we'll have one of our own."
"Hey you know this is going to be the greatest of our yearly parties after all," Harvey said, grinning at everyone.
"You always say that," John kidded him.
"But this year-this year we have a lot to celebrate. This year it's true. This is going to be the greatest year ever."
"I'll drink to that," John announced.
"So will I," everyone echoed.
"Hey," Harvey said, "we'd better get out to our guests before they starve."
After the party, Ellen and Harvey sat in the living room having a nightcap. Ellen looked especially beautiful in her new negligee that she bought to celebrate the expected arrival of their first child.
Before Harvey had taken the second sip of his drink, before he dragged three times on his cigarette, he had already reached for her tits, feeling them through the flimsy material.
Ellen didn't care, she wanted it. She lent herself, once again, to the animal needs of this man to her own swelling excitement. There was a need to conquer him totally.
She felt his fingers walking on the ribbons that held her gown closed and smiled inwardly, knowing what was to come next. With his free hand he continued to massage her breast. Continued to toy with the swollen, hot nipple and occasionally a low sigh would escape her lips and he'd know that he was tuned into her wavelength.
"How's that, sweetheart?" he asked, his words soft, but his tone obviously showing he felt excited.
"That's real nice, real nice," she answered, "keep it up, I don't ever want you to stop it."
His touch became slightly more possessive and she knew she had said the right thing. She told him what he wanted to hear and leaned back to enjoy the rest of her session. She had him. She felt sure of that.
"Lean forward," he instructed. At the same time his hand moved her back and he moved her slightly forward on the sofa. Then his fingers took hold of her gown. She assisted him. It slid down over her shoulders and she let it fall back onto the sofa.
Her top was completely exposed and the soft folds of material still covered her honey-pot the real logic of his arousal. She let her hands slip across and closed the distance between them. She grabbed hold of the hard evidence of his manhood and shivered slightly because she felt all of that rock-hard readiness just waiting for the right moment to penetrate her body.
She had to admit it, it was difficult not to bend over and take it in her mouth and never let go of her prize-to suck it, lick it, kiss it until it had drained his body, drained him of all his liquid fire. But she knew the moment was over the instant he finished. She'd regret it and she'd be left high and dry with no way to satisfy herself. At least no way she chose to use.
He moved in closer and took her into his arms. Her form seemed to melt and mold with his perfectly and his lips came down covering hers and his tongue slipped past her teeth.
She couldn't hold out a moment longer, not one second. She had to feel that hard contact and feel it now.
"Please," she murmured, "do it to me, do it to me now. Let me feel you inside of me." Her own lips dove for his this time.
His hands roamed up and down her body, squeezing her in all the right places and then at last, she felt him pulling her back into the sofa. With deft fingers, he pulled her robe out from under her and let it drop to the floor, leaving her naked to his sight to his touch.
He grabbed hold of her ankle and pulled it over the back of the sofa.
"That's it, that's a girl. Now the other one," he went on, pulling her leg over the side of the couch.
Her legs were wide opened. Her pussy was available, ready to be had and she opened her eyes, her vision coming to rest on the enormous phallus that was about to enter her body.
With a few grunts and groans, he positioned himself between her thighs and moved in for the kill. Moved in to possess her, to take her, to fuck her. Contact was made and she nearly jumped out from under him. He pushed in deeper, then forward and then back.
"More," she screamed, "give me more. Give me that whole damned trick of yours."
But he didn't. He kept the pace slow, teasing, building her flesh to the fever pitch again. In two inches, out one. She could feel his balls pressing, pushing, scraping against her skin. She wanted to beat him. Why was he torturing her this way? She wanted him to play the game her way, or not at all. But she couldn't. She couldn't take the chance of losing him and his shaft now. Not now, not feeling like she did.
Her pussy was taken over, it was possessed and she was a slave. Not only to the man on top of her, but to her own insatiable desires. His body came down onto hers, crushing her tits. Feeling all that hard muscle next to her, feeling those strong arms around her body, listening to the words he mumbled, the promises he whispered into her ears, made her go wild.
"Harder!" she managed to scream.
"Slow, take it slow. Make it last," he said.
His hands moved down to her hips and he grabbed hold of them with brute force, steadying any move she tried to make. He was holding her in place so as not to let her squirming set him off before he was ready.
"Lie still," his voice was demanding.
"I can't!" she yelled, "I can't. I must have it now. All of it. Fast. Hard."
"You will," he promised, "but just let me get used to it first and we'll have a nice long ride."
"Yes, hon," she mumbled, "a real long one."
She fought with herself, trying to regain control, trying to force reality into her brain. At last her body subsided and she lay passive between the couch and his cock.
Once again he began, slowly, in and out, over and over and she felt her own body throbbing again.
This guy was a real master at the art of screwing. Why the hell shouldn't he be? His looks, his fantastic body were perfect enough to turn anybody on. He was big enough to satisfy any woman going. He should be experienced and he was her husband she could get it every night from this stag. She was driven wild, completely wild by him.
She had a moment of power surge through her body as she realized just exactly what it was being a wife to him. Her own thoughts were quietly brought back to the present as he rammed that thick cock up between her legs and hit home. She felt his balls rubbing now against her asscheeks and he was picking up speed.
He was moving, piston-like, as he rammed home with each stroke.
"That's it," she moaned, "give it to me harder. Fuck me silly with that beautiful prick of yours."
"How's that?" he gasped through clenched teeth.
"Good, but I want it hard. Harder!" she screamed.
His body responded to her words and he threw himself completely into his savage role. He was letting low animal moans pass his Ups and she felt all the muscles of his body tensing and getting ready to spring.
She knew the feeling he must have had in his sac. She knew that the volcano was getting to erupt. She began bouncing her ass up and down on the cushions underneath, throwing her snatch up to meet each of his powerful thrusts, loving every second of it as she felt the thickness of his rod scraping against the walls of her pussy.
His hands slid down her back and he dug strong, thick fingers into her ass, holding her firmly, pulling her faster and faster until the contact was complete. Once again, he had given up all resistance. They were like two animals as their bellies slapped together.
"C'mon cowboy, ride me, ride me all the way home!" she yelled at him, uncontrollably now.
"Oh baby, you're gonna get it, you're gonna get it good, like you've never had it before," he promised. He began moving her lips from side to side, stretching her cunt a little wider and wider. His whole body was moving around on top of her now. Thick course hair on his chest was rubbing against her.
It was irritating her sensitive nipples but she didn't care. She didn't care if he split her wide open. She would do anything for the feeling she was having now. This time it was she that tried to slow it down as she suddenly realized that it was nearing the end.
She tried to prolong it. She realized that at any moment now they'd both reach their ends and it would be finished. She held her body rigid, tight. She tried not to move at all but she realized that it was only pushing her further over the brink. From now on there was no way out. She surrendered totally.
She brought one leg from the top of the sofa and the other from the floor and wrapped them around his waist, squeezing tightly. At the same time, she lifted and arched her back upward to make her pussy completely vulnerable. Opening herself totally so that he could get every last fraction of an inch in.
She wanted to yell, scream, bite, scratch, claw, but she couldn't, she couldn't do anything but lie there and take it over and over.
Up and down he pounced and then she felt it happening for her. It started low and began springing forward throughout her groin. It was like waves of electricity spreading out in every direction.
Her hands clawed his shoulders, his biceps, his back and she felt every one of his muscles tense, harden, like a rock ready to burst any second.
And then it happened! The moan started low, deep in his throat and worked out of him until at last it was a savage cry. A cry of despair, of ecstasy from pleasure. A cry of satisfaction. A cry of complete, total satisfaction. She felt his cock expand and swell, jerking fire. She knew he was filling her full of his hot, sticky come.
It was more than she could bear and her own body began violent spasmatic release. Her cunt tingled and twitched and her mind whirled. Then it happened. All of a sudden she knew that she was a new woman-a totally new being-a stranger to herself, but it felt groovy ... very, very groovy.
Yes, she was a new woman. No longer would she have to roam about trying to satisfy her insatiable appetite for sex.
No longer would she have to go to strange men and sometimes women for satisfaction.
She had Harvey now. Harvey ... what a man!!!
He could satisfy the most ravenous hunger.
He could satisfy any woman, no matter how much sex she craved.
And she was having his baby. Harvey's baby ... Imagine the joy she was feeling.
Harvey had exhausted himself, but he still held Ellen and stroked her body with his strong hands.
"Baby, you're beautiful. I love you," he whispered.
"Oh Harvey, Harvey...." Ellen moaned.
He kept stroking her. He was a very groovy sex partner. He knew women didn't come down quickly. He knew they needed to be stroked and loved and kissed. Then and only then would they be completely satisfied and very happy.
More than anything, Harvey wanted to make Ellen happy. He never wanted her to forget this moment.
"What a life we're going to have, sweetheart," he said smiling. "I'm gonna make you the happiest woman in the world."
"I know you will, Harvey. I just know it."
He kissed her gently, his tongue gently pressing against hers.
His hands were softly toying with her breasts, squeezing the sensitive nipples, kneading the firm flesh.
Ellen was ecstatic. She just lay there enjoying every touch, every word.
She knew die could be happy with no one else. She realized that this new Ellen would be all right. Just fine.
Harvey kissed her again, this time with a little more passion. She felt her nipples harden again. She felt a wave of ecstasy travel up and down her spine.
"I want you, baby," he said in a husky voice.
"I'm yours, Harvey, all yours."
His grasp became firmer, his touch more demanding.
It was happening, it was happening again. Ellen knew it. She could feel his penis hardening. She reached for it and began rubbing it gently.
Harvey picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. His arms were so strong. She felt so secure, so safe as he put her down on the bed and fixed the pillows under her so she would be comfortable.
He was ready again. Who wouldn't be? Who could resist Ellen? She was a goddess.
He began licking her body passionately. He reached for her honey pot and began tickling her clitoris. Ellen moaned with joy.
Oh, there was no one in the world like Harvey. No one else could make her feel like this. Like a puddle of water ... that's exactly what she felt like.
"Do it to me, Harvey. Make me feel groovy. Please Harvey, please."
And he would. For the rest of her life he would make her feel groovy ... very, very groovy!
