Virile young Jason wanted his middle-aged wife to learn all there was to know about sex ... and like it! And when he made up Agnes' mind for her, there was nothing that could dissuade this naive lady from performing every conceivable act for her husband's pleasure, including making love to Harry while Jason watched! But Agnes learned quickly, and Jason soon found himself the pupil of his nympho wife! In the book, Premarital Sexual Standards in America, Ira L. Reiss states: "There is much scientific evidence which indicates that the female sex drive (that which is inborn) is not by nature significantly less than the male's sex drive. It seems clear that, if so trained, women would have as much desire for sexual intercourse as men do " Agnes dreamed up sexual antics that made Jason and his swinging friends look like sandbox dropouts!
CHAPTER ONE
Jason had an eye for figures, he told himself smugly, and an even keener one for the future. He had the guts to follow his judgment, besides, and that could be tough when everyone in the crowd was smarting off. Too bad they couldn't see Agnes the way he did instead of a barely-rescued-from-spinsterhood thirty-year-old. Okay, so he was a twenty-two-year-old stud who'd left pecker tracks in the skivvies of half the eighteen-to-twenty-year-old broads on this part of the coast; when a guy picked one to marry he had to think about other things besides the fresh-eyed "teen" look. And Agnes didn't have any wrinkles yet.
Prim-looking, maybe, and maybe a little plain. Hell, she was an artist with pulled-back hair and no make-up and one eye hazel and the other blue. After twelve years of oil paints and wet clay and a bare, grubby apartment by herself, just about any woman'd look prim. Might even think prim, for that matter! But he'd known better. Take a broad who's still an old man when she reaches thirty-and not by choice-and put her astride a hot, good-looking guy in his early twenties, and she'll do damn near anything to keep him happy, no matter how prissy she looks or thinks.
As square as the old man was, Jason reflected, he did know one or two things. Like broads. "A woman who's active," he'd remarked on one of those rare occasions when he and Jason weren't glowering silently at each other, "outlasts a man. She ages slower and builds up her appetite instead of wearing out."
Well, Agnes had a pretty good appetite, all right. And being thirty and grateful that Jason'd married her, she did a lot of things he liked even though he could tell she didn't always want to. And if there was a twenty-year-old with a better figure, he sure as hell hadn't run across her.
He pushed his shorts down over his hips and pulled his legs out of them, then sprawled in the low-backed straight chair that was on his side of the bedroom. Take right now. Agnes wasn't too keen on what they were going to do; it wasn't real dignified for her, and she had to work harder than he did at it. But she wasn't going to bitch about it. She'd put out until she was excited enough so it didn't matter, and he'd get off a good come out of it.
Funny thing about making it with one woman all the time. It wasn't like a guy thought when he was cattin' around working his head off to get a piece as often as he'd like. What he thought then was he'd get in the saddle whenever he felt like it once the ceremony was over, and he'd feel like it at breakfast and lunch and supper-and maybe two or three times during the night. But he didn't; he just wasn't pussy-hungry that much. Looking at her now, as she slowly undressed for him, he couldn't figure why the old appetite wasn't there ... why that familiar buzz of excitement didn't grab him the way it used to when he looked at a good pair of tits jiggling. There was something wrong, and it was bothering him more with every passing month.
This morning wasn't bad, though. Starting off this way-interrupting the early routine after it'd gotten pretty well underway-did put an edge of novelty into the act, and going at it the way he meant to would avoid the dulling effect of sameness.
Agnes was damn well taking her time about it! Still, that wasn't all bad, either; there was something about hitting it when there was a little reluctance that added spice. She'd make a big deal of letting her hair down, to start with. Fine, luxuriant hair it was, too, when she let it down. Great, thick handfuls of it tumbling over her shoulders and down her back, and shiny like corn silk.
She was finishing taking off her sweater now, with one arm already free and the sleeve turning inside out as she pulled it off the other. A sloppy pullover, that sweater; she wouldn't wear the tight ones he liked that let a guy see the seams of her bra. Of course, it wasn't really sloppy, but it wasn't tight. And she wasn't in a big hurry to get out of her skirt or bra. The way she hesitated, it looked as if she was trying to make up her mind which to take off first.
When she did make up her mind, she obviously gave priority to the way Jason liked it. She slipped the bra shoulder straps off and drew her arms out of them, then waited for a second before pushing the garment down to her waist. As she did, her breasts seemed to swell and stretch, expanding from the compression of the confining cups. Her nipples, wrinkled pink buttons squashed into the softer underlying tissues, slowly popped out of their depressions and filled out, and all of a sudden there were goose bumps on the bulging mounds behind them, and the areolae thrust outward.
She twisted the bra around so the cups were behind her and the hooks were in front, and she struggled to unfasten it, her elbows back and her chin touching her chest and the tip of her tongue visible. Her breasts swayed with the movements of her shoulders, the nipples bobbing erratically; then her fingers conquered the stubborn fasteners and she pulled the garment away and dropped it on the nightstand with her sweater.
She straightened and let her arms drop to her sides and paused to look into Jason's eyes. His breath came hard as he studied the picture. She had erect shoulders, but they weren't skinny, and the flesh filled them and rounded them, then swept forward over her ribs to merge with the fullness of the upper slopes of her breasts. There wasn't a damn bit of fat over her ribs, though, and the lower bulges of her boobs cast rippled shadows on her skin. He liked the way she seemed to cave in below her bottom ribs, with her skin smooth and taut between them and her slim waist.
He saw her glance drop from his face, and for a moment she stared at his hard-on. Then she blushed a little and let her eyelashes cover her eyes and fumbled at the button in her skirt's waistband. Imagine a broad blushing at the sight of a stiff cock after being married for over a year, thought Jason. Jesus! How long did it take a woman to get over that! This woman; the ones he'd been laying before Agnes hadn't let that fluster them!
With the skirt unbuttoned at the top, she unzipped it and worked it down her legs, bending so her breasts hung like swollen cones between her arms. He could hear the hiss as the material slid over the nylon covering her legs, and he almost grunted aloud with familiar resentment at the way she insisted on wearing briefs over her pantyhose. She looked uncomfortable stepping out of the skirt, but Jason was more interested in what the action did to her body. There was something about the way a woman looked when she stood on one foot, one hand on a vanity to steady her, the other holding the skirt, and lifting the other foot to pull it free. Agnes was still bending from the hips and her breasts still hung, wiggling gently with her exertions as she drew her left knee in front of her right leg and got her foot out of the skirt. She pulled her right foot up the same way then, and shook the skirt before laying it with her bra and sweater. And she paused again before rolling her briefs off over the swell of her buttocks and stepping out of them.
"The shoes, honey?" she asked in a low tone. "Do I have to leave them on?"
"I like it," he replied, his hard-on throbbing as he enjoyed the vision of her sleekness in the pantyhose and high heels.
She knew he liked her that way, too, he reflected. It embarrassed her-like one of those girls on the covers of the detective magazines, she'd said once-but she didn't have to ask.
She came toward him then, hips swaying in spite of her effort to prevent it, the front of her pantyhose bulging a little over a thick mat of pubic hair and her legs looking long and smooth in their nylon sheathes. Her fingers clenched and unclenched at her sides as she approached, and she stood beside Jason, letting him slide his arm around her waist and leaning toward him. He fingered her breasts, caressing them with his fingertips and tweaking the ends of her nipples as if they were guitar strings. Then he touched her far leg and she raised it and turned, swinging it across his outstretched thighs to stand astraddle his lap.
He pushed himself erect in the chair and pulled her to him so her crotch pressed against his belly, and she slid awkwardly down, bending her knees, until he could reach her nipples with his lips. He drew one nipple into his mouth and caressed it with his tongue, and Agnes trembled and grasped his shoulder with her hands. Her hair tumbled about his head making a veil around it and shutting out the rest of the room, and he sensed that she was sliding her feet apart so she could straighten her knees without removing her breasts from his face. He sucked experimentally at the warm flesh and rubbed his teeth against it, and he felt her bottom push outward to relieve more of the strain on her legs. With one hand he stroked the naked flesh of her back and with the other he massaged the nylon-encased fullness of her buttocks. As he sucked harder, Agnes blew on the top of his head, ruffling his hair with short puffs of air, and her hips began to jerk. Twisting his head sideways, he could look past her breast and see the wrinkles that went across her belly and the folds of flesh her position produced, and he could see the inner tendons of her thighs quivering and leaping as her hips increased their motion.
He moved his mouth to her other breast and sucked at it while he observed the nipple he'd just been chewing. There were deep puckers in the wetly glistening pink lump, and it thrust outward from the hardened areolae, taut and firm. In his mouth the other nipple was hardening, as well, and Agnes was tightening and relaxing her buttocks in response to some growing inner excitement.
Jason worked his fingers inside the waist of her pantyhose at the back and caressed her bottom, squeezing one cheek, then the other, and gradually forcing his hand farther and farther inside the garment. As he massaged her buttocks and probed into their valley, Agnes thrust her hips forward and pressed her belly against his chest, shuffling her feet for renewed support and sighing softly.
He withdrew his hand from her pantyhose and encircled her waist with both arms, clasping her to him and heating to the warmth of her body. There was an electric quality to the sensation of the nylon as it rubbed against the bristles of his belly hair and a reinforcing tingle from the feel of her hair as its tips caressed his shoulders. With one hand pressing against the small of her back, he stroked the other up and down her side, wallowing in the exotic pleasure of naked, soft flesh under his touch alternating with the harsh smoothness of tight-stretched nylon. He yielded to that pleasure, using both hands to caress her thighs, sliding his palms over her hips with his fingers cupping around the fullness of her hips and closing over her rigid thigh muscles.
Those muscles quivered with the tension his mouth produced in her, and they flinched sharply as his strokes grew quicker. She twisted her torso, her pantyhose rustling from side to side against her lower chest, her naked upper belly scrubbing the stiff hair on his chest, and her breast tugged against the suction of his mouth. Each time his tongue crushed her nipple against the roof of his mouth she jammed her breast harder into his face, its pulpy flesh flattening and molding itself to the hungry lines of his jaw. Her hands rubbed his shoulders with erratic, nervous caresses and her fingers groped at the flesh on the back of his neck. She was letting her mounting excitement replace her reluctance toward her awkward position, Jason recognized, and wouldn't resist him when he guided her through the activities he imagined for this morning.
His own excitement was at a fever pitch and his penis twitched violently, the head bumping repeatedly against the abrasive nylon fabric that stretched across it. Suddenly he released her breast from his mouth and buried his face in the deep trough between the two surging mounds, placing his hands on the outer bulges and forcing her breasts inward against his jaw and cheeks. With a low moan of delight, she tightened her hands on the back of his neck and slid one upward to cradle his head. Her hips jerked spasmodically and her crotch ground against his belly, rotating inward and forward. Jason carefully rolled the top of her pantyhose down, exposing her buttocks and the bulge of her lower abdomen, letting her pubic hair free to tangle with his harsher bristles, and he fingered her tight-clamped asscheeks with restless hands.
Seizing her right leg, he raised it while she clung to him and pulled it over his left, slumping slightly in his chair and catching her knee between his thighs. He repeated the maneuver with her left leg so that she could clamp her thighs together, and his hard-on nestled between them, its head warmed by the undercurve of her love mound. With deliberate gentleness, he continued to roll her pantyhose down her thighs, baring her crotch, then the trembling flesh of her legs. He felt her moisture on the underside of his cock's head and the prickle of her pubic hair on its slopes, and he slumped farther in the chair, bringing his feet back to hook his insteps in the bend of her ankles, then thrusting outward to thrust her feet back and free of the floor. Her body sagged against his, sliding down it so her breasts were crushed on his chest and the head of his penis was buried in the hot flesh of her crotch. She stiffened and gasped, her hips flogging and her belly slapping against his.
He continued to lower her until her breasts pushed on his belly and his penis was crushed by her upper abdomen, the head jabbing at her solar plexus; then he freed her ankles and stabbed backward with his heels at the backs of her knees, making her kneel between his legs. For a brief period, he relished the warmth of her breasts as they sheathed the length of his penis, and his hands caressed her continuously, the massage keeping her excitement alive.
But with a twitch of his hips, he freed his penis from its quivering prison, and burying his hands in her hair, he forced her face down so that her lips rested on the bulbous head of the tool. She wrenched against his grip, her body lashing from side to side but trapped by the vise of his thighs.
"No, Jason, no!" she moaned in a half-whisper.
But her Fingers groped at his hips and her lips moved slowly over the swollen head in feather-light kisses, as if she sensed what he wanted and was powerless to refuse. The first kisses were tight-lipped and dry, but then she let her lips part a fraction, moistening them with the tip of her tongue and sucking at tiny portions of the tortured knob. It felt as if she were nibbling at it with fleshy teeth, Jason thought with distraction, and he felt a probing as if she were testing the hard flesh with her tongue. His hands clutched her hair at the sides of her head, pressing inward at her face to keep it in position, and he bucked upward with his hips, driving the bulb harder against her mouth.
Agnes continued to moan softly, but she parted her lips farther, and he could see her jaw open as her lips slid down to encase the purpled head. Her tongue lapped at the underside and rubbed the edges of his slit, and knives of pleasure sliced inward through him. As her lips slipped over the ridge at the back of the head and her mouth accepted the entire bulb, he bucked again, and she began to suck, her cheeks caving in and the joint of her jaw working. Her teeth rested on the shaft behind the head, sliding down as she took the instrument deeper within her mouth and stripping upward as she withdrew her face. But there was always the warm wetness and the pressure, and hard excitement coursed through him in fierce waves.
There would come a day, he thought eagerly, when she would do this until the semen welled into her throat and he poured his frenzy into her mouth, but she wasn't ready yet. And before his growing heat could overwhelm him, he forced his thought away from what she was doing and made himself relax for quieter enjoyment. Agnes continued to suck, her head now bobbing in a slow, even rhythm as her teeth stroked his shaft. Her fingernails bit into the hardness of his hips, and her armpits warmed his thighs, as he felt his testicles bumping against the hollow of her throat.
At last, he raised her head, forcing her to release his gleaming cock, and he raised her to her feet and made her straddle his thighs again. He lowered her onto his penis, the head resting between her swollen labia, and pressed down on her hips while the head jabbed upward at the slippery rim of her vaginal mouth. She caught at his shoulders with her fingers, panting and tilting her head back, her breasts thrusting forward at him and her hips rocking in hungry jerks. There was a momentary resistance at her rim, then his penis head slipped into the rubbery grip of her vagina, the warmth and wetness duplicating that of her mouth for him. With a fierce shove, he drove her onto the pulsing shaft, gasping as she closed over it and slammed down onto his lap. And he slumped farther and thrust his hips up to house his penis deeper in her.
She flailed her body in obvious pleasure, leaning forward to rest her breasts against him, and he felt her pubic hair stabbing through his to his belly. Reaching down, he grasped her calves with his hands and raised her feet until he could hook her insteps over the fronts of his thighs; then he caught her hips and worked her back and forth so that she stroked his cock. As if she sensed what he needed, she tightened her legs, removing her weight from her buttocks and pumping herself on the hardness of his shaft. Her pubic arch met his again and again in a rapid rain of blows, and she held herself erect like a horsewoman on a galloping mount. Her breasts leaped wildly and her hands clutched at Jason's shoulders, while he seized handfuls of the flesh at her hips and urged her to more violent pumping.
The flurry of motion made him giddy, and he felt his chest heaving and heard Agnes' panting grow deeper and louder. Her hair flew about her face and her muscles surged, and he sensed that her orgasm was approaching. But he wasn't ready for that, and with a sudden heave he lifted her off his shaft and held her over it. She struggled wildly, then slowly calmed and waited for his next direction. He stared into her face, struck by its smoky passion, seeing that her lips were parted and gleaming wetly and that her eyes looked heavy-lidded and unembarrassed. And he gently unhooked her feet from his thighs and made her stand.
He turned her so that her back was toward him, making her back over his lap and again lowering her by pressing down on her hips. When the head of his penis was once more couched in the warmth of her labia, he leaned forward and pushed his forehead against her back so that she had to bend at the hips. She caught his knees with her hands and thrust her buttocks backward against his belly, driving herself onto his penis and surging back and forth.
With his knees spread and his feet firmly planted to give Agnes steady support, Jason again seized her ankles and pulled her feet up. She fought him for a moment, struggling to maintain her balance; then she understood and willingly bent her knees, letting him double her legs, her heels touching her buttocks and her knees pointing straight downward on either side of him.
By using her ankles as handles, Jason bounced her on his penis, and he savored the vision of her back, its muscles rippling, and her buttocks, tightly rounded and surging on his belly. From shoulders to waist, she was shaped like a broad wedge at this angle, and from the waist down she had the classical, inverted heart shape. In the mirror across the room, he could see the expression of intense concentration on her features and the renewed jouncing of her breasts between her shaking arms, and he jerked up and down on her imprisoned ankles, battering himself with her yielding body.
By keeping his head in the right position, he could almost hide it in the reflection and imagine that he was watching someone else with Agnes, and the notion exploded into a weird, startling thought. He could do that! He could watch that happen! Agnes might fight and turn on her tears, but she'd do what he wanted her to, being Agnes.
He began to talk, forcing the words past his heavy panting in short, hard bursts. "We're gonna swap with Harry and Lee one of these days, puss. I'm gonna watch him put it to you this way!"
She stiffened and slammed herself harder against him, and he knew that she was discounting his assertion as being one of those fantasies that he used to whip up during the last bit of frenzy at the height of their lovemaking.
"All right." She whispered the firm concession through clenched teeth, and Jason recognized the response as a "say-anything" effort at here-and-now cooperation with commitment.
But they'd do that, he promised himself. New excitement raced over him at the realization that there was suddenly no trace of the deadly sameness that had begun to dull the excitement of having his cock buried in her, and he redoubled the violence of his pumping.
"He'll put it to you like this," he muttered again.
"You'd like that?" Agnes asked jerkily, not really concentrating on the question. "Like me bouncing on Harry?"
The idea overwhelmed Jason, and the knot that had gathered in his gut hardened convulsively and shattered, shooting searing fingers of heat through him and making his head roar and pumping his semen in hot jets through his passage and into Agnes. Her thighs tightened in spasms of answering violence, and she frantically ground herself backward onto the swelling at the base of his penis, contractions within her vagina clamping cruelly at his shaft. She trembled and dug her nails into his thighs, and her breath hissed. Then, with a loud groan, she slumped over his lap as his own contortions ceased. He laid his cheek on her back and rested, a web of excitement still drawn taut across the background of his thought, and firm resolve twisting his guts.
He released Agnes' ankles and stroked her relaxed thighs, aware suddenly that in the glow of his new plan he could repeat their lovemaking right now, without pause for recovery. And even in this moment of afterthought, he knew that Harry and Lee would agree to his proposal. Hints that he had ignored in the past flashed into his mind to weave an unmistakable pattern that he was going to accept, and he clutched Agnes back to him with an abrupt, fierce tenderness.
CHAPTER TWO
Afterward, when Agnes had showered and douched and dressed and was gone from the room, Jason still slouched on his chair, naked, with the juices of their exercise caking on his semi-erect penis, and determination to watch Harry and Agnes together paralyzing him. But at last he stirred himself, heaving himself to his feet and forcing himself through the necessities of showering and dressing. He knew what he wanted to do, and he knew that Agnes would consent, no matter how reluctantly. But he sensed that his approach would have a long-range effect on the flavor of the swap arrangement he visualized. In the long run, it had to be something that Agnes enjoyed and wanted as much as he did, and he had to devise an introduction that she could look back on without revulsion.
Agnes called to him from the other end of the house. "You ready for breakfast, honey?"
"Just about," he shouted.
"It's on."
He tugged his tie into place and left the bedroom. In the kitchen, life was real and homey again, and Jason's now-burning intent cooled momentarily. It was hard to believe it could be so everyday here when he had a pressure within that made it so hard to breathe. He blew the air slowly from his lungs and surveyed the room before going into it.
Agnes had demanded little when they had shopped for a home; after eleven years in the starkness of her studio-cum-apartment-one cluttered room with a community head down the hall-houses with carpeting and drapes had all looked great, to hear her exclamations. But she'd harbored a secret about the domesticity of the kitchen and a weird idea of home-life centered in it. When they'd walked into this room, she'd flipped.
Its windows opened to the east side-yard and the early sun flooded it with light so that motes in the air drifted like fleets of innumerable, microscopic spaceships through the beams. Cabinetry and appliance lined two walls and the third framed a Van Gogh-type fireplace. The breakfast table sat before the windows, where Jason and Agnes could eat while watching the antics of birds in the luxuriant foliage of the shrubbery that lay at sill-level outside.
This morning, the floor reflected a need for attention. Its wax had dimmed and yellowed, and there were streaked splotches where spillage had been too-hastily wiped up. In the corners, little heaps of caked dirt betrayed Agnes' broad, brush-type mopping, and the lower parts of the cabinets had spatter marks. But the cabinet tops glistened, and every stain polished away before it could set, and Jason smiled at the recollection of Agnes' ecstasy over the broad, tiled work surfaces.
This morning, there was a broad, shallow bowl of chrysanthemum heads on the end of the table, their yellows and oranges like splashes of sunlight, and two sturdy candles with heavy cords of wax congealed on their sides flanked it.
Agnes carried the plates to the table, steam rising in tenuous wisps from the omelets and sausage, and smiled at Jason. There was a hint of embarrassment in the smile, and she quickly lowered her eyes. Jason grinned silently, reflecting on her inability to admit, even to herself, that she liked doing it his way. Then he shook himself free of his musing and joined her at breakfast. For a time there was no conversation, but when most of her food was gone, Agnes brought up the subject of yard work.
"You plan to do the backyard this morning?" she asked.
"Well..., I thought I'd run over to Harry's for a while first."
"But you said-"
"Yeah, I know. Won't take too long. I'll do the yard after." Hell, there wasn't that much to do! "What you got scheduled?"
"Shopping and the hairdresser's."
"That'll take most of the day, won't it?"
Agnes shook her head. "Be back by noon or one o'clock."
"Well, I ought to be finished with the backyard by then. No sweat."
She finished eating without saying anything else, then sipped at her coffee and said, "You didn't say anything last night about wanting to see Harry." Something in her expression made Jason think she was trying to capture an elusive association. "You didn't, did you?"
"Guess not. Slipped my mind." He'd rather not remind her right now of what he'd said while she was too agitated to weigh its significance-or to take it seriously.
But a look of alarm sprang into her eyes. "Jason! I remember! This morning!"
He gazed at her with what he hoped was a mixture of surprise and mystification, saying nothing. She studied him worriedly and the alarm slowly faded, giving way to confusion and embarrassment as if she'd been caught transferring something sacred to moments of passion into the prosaic routine of the day. Jason imagined that she was as reluctant to do that with the things she-or he-said under sexual stress as she would be to strike some of those mating poses without any prior sex play.
Still looking confused, she rose and began to clear the table.
"Give you a hand, baby?" he asked.
"Thanks, there's not that much."
She could say that in a tone that meant she wanted help, but this morning he could tell she'd rather be alone. She'd exposed herself to him in a way she hadn't wanted to, and she needed time by herself to recover her balance. He kissed the back of her neck and left. She'd be all right by the time she got back from her shopping and hair business.
And on the way to Harry's, Jason tried to evaluate the fact that she'd recalled his promise about swapping. He'd learned a long time before meeting Agnes that a guy had considerable latitude in what he said when a broad was worked up enough so she was ready to come. So did the broad, for that matter. She'd almost always make a big noise about how much she loved him, especially in the first few seconds after he got his dick into her and again while she was coming. It wouldn't mean anything except that she was out of her mind with pleasure, any more than the same wild talk by the guy did. And now with Agnes they both said things in moments of extreme excitement that neither believed after the cooling off.
So she'd been hot enough not to get pissed off when he'd said he was going to watch while Harry did what he was doing to her. She'd been willing to believe he was saying it to intensify his own excitement and maybe hers, and she'd been far enough gone to give him the answer that'd provide the most stimulus to his fantasy. Not that she'd actually analyzed it that way, Jason admitted now, but it was an instinctive trait she had to obey.
Mostly she managed to put that kind of talk-that "cock-talk", Jason privately termed it-out of her mind while the tensions of her orgasm were draining away. This time she hadn't, and maybe it was good. She surely didn't take the statement seriously, so she wasn't consciously keeping the idea alive. That had to mean it was gnawing at her subconscious, and when the time came to carry out the promise, the whole concept would burst into too-familiar awareness in her thought. She wouldn't know why, and she'd think maybe it was because that was what she secretly wanted. By the time she could get it sorted out and evaluated, she'd already have been the route. Yeah, it had to be good news that she remembered.
He didn't have to think twice about Harry or Lee. He'd surfed with Harry for years, and Harry's most outstanding characteristic had been his leaning toward communal practices. Lee wasn't one of the old beach crowd, of course; Harry'd met her when he was laid up in the hospital with his back broken after he'd tackled that thirty-footer the day before the Big Storm and she was throwing her weight around as "charge nurse" during the graveyard shift. But as the back had begun to heal Harry and she'd found a few minutes to talk now and then, and with inhibitions going wherever they go at that time of night they'd learned a lot about each other.
What was maybe the most unbelievable thing about the whole business was that Jason'd gone to work about then, and his hours-noon to nine-wiped out visiting hours. For a while it'd meant not seeing Harry, but a time had come when Lee had let him slip into the hospital through the balcony door in Harry's room at one or two in the morning. And she and Harry and he had explored philosophy and world problems.
Jason Grinned. He'd wanted a piece of her ass from the start, and she'd known it. The fact was, she'd comfortably promised he'd get a piece sometime, but one thing then another had interfered-it wasn't that urgent-until she was married to Harry and Jason'd met Agnes. Then it had seemed awkward to press the issue. But it wouldn't be awkward to set it up with Harry. Not on a swap basis. Hell, he'd seen the way Harry swallowed when Agnes did some of those unconscious things she did that made her look so damn sexy!
Harry was at home, as Jason knew he'd be. He let Jason into the living room and motioned to a chair, dropping into the one by the fireplace that Jason knew was his favorite. There was an open copy of a beaver magazine on the end table beside Harry's chair, and even without craning his neck, Jason could see the startling posture of the couple in the exposed photo. He grinned at Harry, reflecting on how little his friend had changed.
There was still the full beard and the shoulder-length hair, and Harry was shirtless, his coppery chest hair gleaming in the morning light. Hell, the man'd always be a surfer; good thing he had the money to support the life!
Jason had come prepared to play it by ear, and the vibrations seemed right for the brute-strength approach.
"Hey, man, ya coppin' out now you're married?"
"Huh? Outta your mind?" Harry stared at Jason.
Jason shrugged. "Just came t' me. Since Agnes, I been makin' like a Puritan. Got thinkin' you're just as bad."
"Yeah, now you mention it." Harry laughed.
"Ain't got me uptight yet, though. You?"
"Dunno. Stale maybe."
"Hmm." Harry sounded mildly interested but hardly alarmed. "Well, that's what bein' married's all about. There's bound to be stale times with just one broad."
"Yeah, man, but what's to say only one broad?"
"Nothin' if a guy gets too restless. So?"
Jason felt a twinge of impatience with himself. He'd sensed a direct approach would be best, and here he was beating around the bust. "Shit, man, like what's your feeling about doin' a little sharin'?"
"Us? You and Agnes and Lee and me?"
"Yeah."
"Like swappin', man?"
"Well, not tradin' women ... not for livin' with ... just spreadin' out the sex base."
Harry absently rubbed his crotch, staring through the window. "Agnes," he said. "She turns me on, all right. Think you'd get vibes from Lee?" It wasn't a real question, Jason decided. It was more like a concession to establishment tradition. Harry knew the answer before asking the question. So Jason didn't reply.
Harry nodded slowly and abandoned most of his "cool" manner. He leaned forward to gaze into Jason's face. "You're serious, aren't you."
"It wouldn't be stale," Jason said.
"Lee wouldn't fight it." Harry grinned gently. "She's something else, man. She'd go. I wouldn't guess Agnes'd be eager, though."
"She's got inhibitions. She'll go along if I say, and when she finds out how much she likes it, everything'll be cool."
"She'll go just because you say?"
Jason nodded. "Remember how you guys rode me for gettin' it on over an old maid? Well, I told you that old maids know where it's at. We dig each other. I don't bother with little things; she can make all the decisions she wants to about what we buy and where we live and what we eat. But when it comes to what's important, I'm the man of the house. With sex, it's what I say."
"Aw, c'mon."
Jason shrugged. "The way it is, man. She knows I won't hurt her, so she'll buy whatever I say. That's my part of the act."
"Do anything you tell her?"
"Yep. Just like she wanted to."
Harry drew a deep breath. "I figured that was all theory. Wishful thinkin', maybe. Lucky bastard."
"It's the way it is with Agnes."
"Okay, let's put it on."
They drank a beer and then another; then Jason went home to do the backyard. Wheeling the mower around the oversized lawn in a pattern of ever-decreasing size, needing only to see that the right-hand wheel rode at the edge of the uncut part, allowed a guy to think, and he did.
With Harry committed to the swapping and Lee as willing as Harry had said she'd be, the matter was settled. Agnes might be dead set against the idea-probably would be-and she might protest. But when he told her that was the way he wanted it, she'd do it. And she'd do it every time he told her to. Okay, that much was in the bag. On the other hand, there was a longer-range goal, and that was to make her like swapping-to make her want to. When she got to the point where she'd suggest it, he'd know he'd succeeded.
The trimming and weeding was done by the time Agnes got home, as he'd said it would be, and he'd sweated out the beer and opened one from the refrigerator. Agnes looked great, he decided; whoever had done her hair knew the score. And the activity had worked magic on her spirits. She was alert and "up", as if she'd discovered how much fun it was simply to be alive. She even teased, coming to where Jason lay on one of the outdoor lounges and leaning over him for a kiss and letting him feel her up. And that, he thought, was something of a novelty in itself.
The hedge was thick enough and high enough for a nudist camp, but Agnes was normally pretty skittish about anything suggestive outside. But this time she even squealed a little when he got his hand inside her panties, and he realized that her mood was rarer than he'd suspected. And it occurred to him that he ought to mention Harry and Lee, just so she'd unconsciously associate them with this kind of uninhibited atmosphere. Not that this was the time to tell her they were going to swap, of course, but just that she needed some kind of reminder.
"Hey, puss," he said when she broke away from a kiss. "Why not give Lee Minsk a call and see if she and Harry can come over for a while tonight?"
"Tonight? It's awfully short notice!"
"I was just thinking about it, talking to Harry this morning. Wouldn't hurt to check. It's been a long time."
"Well ... I guess it has. I'd better call right away."
"Yeah, I suppose."
As she retreated toward the house, Jason gazed after her swaying figure and sighed. He'd have had her undressed and crawling all over him if he'd kept going. She'd warmed up so fast it'd come close to making him forget Harry and Lee. She might still be in the right mood when she came back, for that matter, but if the Minsks could come over tonight, it'd be better for Agnes to be buzzing a little. He'd better put off the fun for the time being.
He swung himself off the lounge and wryly pushed his stiff penis sideward to deflate the tent that it made of his pants. Draining his beer, he crossed to one of the bags of clippings and stuffed the empty can into it, then went into the house. Agnes was hanging up the telephone when he entered the living room.
"How about it?" he asked.
"They'll be here about eight," she replied.
"Good."
"How's the bar?"
"Loaded," he said. "Look, we're not going to make a great big deal of this, are we?"
"Well, no," she answered. But she sounded doubtful.
"Tell you what, baby. Let's go out to the beach for the afternoon. Aren't they having a show out there?" As if she hadn't hinted about the show her fellow artists had scheduled ... as if she hadn't tried to get him all week to commit Saturday afternoon to that.
Her eyes sparkled. "You really want to go?"
"Sure! Be a real good break. Keep you from getting uptight about entertaining, too."
She smiled and nodded. "It shouldn't bother me," she murmured. "But...."
That was one of the things a guy might overlook about an old maid, especially if she was a dedicated artist. Hell, Agnes hadn't entertained in a house for ten years, the way he understood it. No wonder it threw her into a panic.
CHAPTER THREE
Jason and Agnes left the art show at four-thirty and stopped at Jankowsky's to eat. By six o'clock they were at home and Agnes was bustling about the house preparing dips and worrying about last-minute details like dusting and clearing away old magazines and papers. Jason shook his head and helped where he could, certain that the afternoon had been a mistake. As a diversion, it had been fine. Agnes had lost herself in reunions with old friends and revival of professional concerns; thoughts of tonight's entertainment had been crowded out of her mind completely .
But the associations of her past had apparently awakened all of her spinster-like attitudes and inhibitions, and the shyness she'd had when he'd first met her had washed over her almost visibly. He'd noticed that at Jankowsky's when she'd toyed with her seafood special, glancing across at him with an expression of wonderment, as if trying to adjust to the remarkable fact that she was going home with this man and would be in bed with him before the night was over. Even now, Jason reflected, she acted like a Cinderella, going about her tasks with an air of nagging suspicion that she'd wake up to find herself back in that tiny alley studio.
If she'd been a small woman, he thought, a guy would have ached to cuddle her. Her reaction would have seemed child-like. At five feet eight, weighing nearly one hundred thirty, she was hard to picture as a little girl. Still, she did look naive and a little overwhelmed by reality, and somehow the afternoon had brought back that aura of artistic disengagement from fact. He wasn't sure whether that was all a matter of bearing, either. It seemed to have something to do with the way her skirt hung, slightly twisted and hugging the fullness of her buttocks and showing a trace more of those strong thighs than it had before the show ... or her sweater, the sleeves pushed above her elbows, the material clinging so that it folded deeply under her breasts and draped across her belly.
Whatever it was, it aroused him and made him reach for her often. And his quick caresses made Agnes flush and flinch and get a look of repressed excitement in her eyes. She laughed nervously each time he approached, and more than once she caught his hands with hers and held him at bay.
At seven, she paused in her bustle and surveyed the living room. "It'll have to do," she said. "I've got to get ready." Then, "What'll I wear?" It was more a wail of despair than a question.
Jason caught her in his arms and soothed her. "You're sweatin' it too much, baby. Hell, wear the sexiest outfit you've got."
"Jason!"
"Hell, I mean it! Why not?"
"Well, if you say so."
"Hey ... how about that thing you got for the ball last spring?"
"Oh, Jason! The ball was different!"
Masked and crowded and so damned dark a guy needed radar, Jason reflected. Every woman there had been half-naked, and there'd been more passes than in a pro football game. But for once Agnes hadn't gotten uptight, and he'd finally recognized that the occasion had a sort of disembodied flavor of its own, as if it were a mass dream. And perhaps it had been, to the artists. Whatever the psychology, Agnes had gone in a creation that was the only deliberately sexy thing he'd seen her wear in public, and he suddenly wanted desperately to have her wear it tonight.
"Harry and Lee are different," he said.
She lowered her glance. "You want me to?" she asked in a low voice.
"Sure!"
"All right."
At a quarter to eight she came out of the bedroom in the outfit, pausing before Jason for his approval. The outfit consisted of a skirt that hung nearly to the floor in back, but was open almost to her crotch in front. There were three buttons in front, one a couple or three inches below her crotch, one at the crotch, and one button two or three inches above. And from the top button the upper part of the dress was cut for exposure, open all the way to her shoulders and with no fullness except where the bulge of her breasts forced it out. A satin ribbon, buttoned to the open edges at breast level to hold the thing on, but the cut was such that it barely covered her nipples, leaving the entire inner swell of her breasts visible.
"You look perfect, baby!" Jason exclaimed. "Now that's like a hostess!"
"Or a madam," she said, shivering.
He chuckled and stood, taking her in his arms. But then he backed away to survey her again. Whatever the material was, it clung, and every curve was highlighted in soft tones of brown. She'd start the evening off right, he reflected, with an air of suggestion.
Harry and Lee got there five minutes early, and Jason let them in. Harry, tall and spare, looked hungry in his slim line slacks and turtleneck, and Lee looked like a dark pixie. She was a marked contrast to Agnes' statuesque presence. Less than five feet one and probably weighing hardly a hundred pounds, she had eyes so brown they were almost black, and her dark hair framed a mischievous round face and brushed her shoulders with its tips. But she was stacked, Jason admitted to himself. Her cable-stitch sweater was all front and no back or sides; maybe sweater wasn't the right name for a plain bib. And it was soft enough to mold itself to her contours. Her skirt would have been too plain on anyone else, but on her tiny frame it accentuated the delicate roundness of her hips and the mobility of her thighs.
He led the Minsks into the small living room and poured drinks, aware of an electric tension in the air. But Harry was hardly the formal type and Lee was warmly human, so Agnes seemed to relax with, a rush. He'd rejected the idea that they'd need planned entertainment, and soon they were engrossed in a lively discussion of topics that ranged without pattern. And the music from his tape deck tugged at them until they had to dance.
They danced through several numbers, flinging themselves into the savage rhythms in the limited space, and finally flung themselves down, panting and laughing.
"I need air!" Lee gasped, pressing her hand to her heaving chest.
"Me, too!" Perspiration made Harry's forehead gleam.
"Come on then!" Jason struggled to his feet and led them through the back door.
There was a rich scent of fresh-cut grass in the air, and the heavy sweetness of jasmine floated about them in the soft warmth of Indian summer. The full moon lighted the yard, casting a deep pool of blackness in front of the hedge, and Jason grinned to himself in the awareness that a guy could literally have read by the light.
"God, this is beautiful!" Lee sighed.
"Time for gathering the harvest," Harry said.
The remark sounded like many of its kind Jason had so often heard under similar circumstances on the beach, and it awakened the old sense of tenderness in him. He found himself suddenly part of a community embrace, with Harry and Lee and himself entering it out of sure instinct from the past and drawing Agnes in naturally before she could analyze what was happening. It was an innocent thing, Jason mused, and one of pure pleasure. It was simply a pressing together, bodies sharing sensations of the night's magic and arms enclosing the tight knot. But it was like an amplifier of hungers, too, and he felt the birth of desire and response among them.
"And making love!" Lee added after a long, quiet moment.
At that instant Harry and Jason faced each other, inches apart, and Agnes was pressed against Jason's left side in the circle of his arm and Lee against his right. He held both women tightly, and he felt Harry's arms about them, equally tight. He could feel the vibrant excitement in Agnes' body and knew that the spell of the situation had caught her up in a surge of breathless yielding. Gently, he turned her toward Harry and eased back with Lee, leaving Agnes to be drawn into Harry's hungry embrace and feeling Lee's body twist and drive itself against him.
Agnes gave a muffled gasp and glanced back at him in startled appeal, but Jason nodded reassuringly and she turned back to Harry. Jason watched her arms slip around Harry's shoulders and her head tilt as she accepted Harry's kiss. Even through the sudden heat of his contact with Lee's eager body, he was conscious of the way Agnes flattened herself against Harry and the tautness of her buttocks as she thrust her belly against the hardness before it.
But Lee demanded more than a divided attention, and he lost himself in the excitement of her insistence. He bent and she turned, leaning back on his left arm with her face turned up. He bent to press his lips to hers, and his right hand was suddenly caressing her quivering belly, rubbing lightly in small, slow circles. She kissed hard and her hips surged, and Jason rubbed downward onto her mound, then upward urgently to her thrusting breasts. At the first contact on her breast, Lee gave a violent start and burrowed her mouth savagely against his, driving his lips onto his teeth and working her own lips in a primitive chewing motion.
Jason trembled at the wave of heat that flooded him, and he felt a dizzying pressure in his groin and an abrupt stiffness in his penis. He groped at her breasts, squeezing them and massaging their firmness. They yielded to his fingers, moving under the soft wool as he pushed them, and her body twisted and strained into the caresses. She made tiny, unconscious noises in her throat, and her hands clutched restlessly at him. He slid his hand to the side of her breast and past the softness of her bib, letting it rest for a moment on the cool flesh of her side, then pressing it under the edge of the garment and onto the pulsing softness of her naked breast. The sensation startled him and he paused to savor it.
Through the cable-stitch wool, her breasts had felt smaller to him than Agnes' but the size comparison had been nebulous and insignificant. Now he cupped the handful of warm flesh in his palm and molded it and realized that the whole feel was different. He made no judgment as to relative value-as to which size and shape he preferred-but simply accepted the difference and thrilled to the idea that he could enclose the entire rounded organ in his hand.
He fingered it gently and took the nipple between the pads of his thumb and forefinger, rolling it and plucking lightly at it, and he felt a convulsive shudder shake Lee and drive her against him. She rolled her head and moaned, and her tongue darted between his lips. Her nipple hardened and swelled and her body twisted greedily. Suddenly she jerked her face aside and pressed her cheek against his chest, clinging to him and trembling while he continued to massage the quivering cone.
She was his, he reflected. Whether Harry had told her of this morning's conversation or not, she was ready to take whatever he wanted to give her. But he wanted Agnes involved in the swap first.
He whispered to Lee. "Harry say anything about my coming over today?"
"Yes." Her whisper matched his. "I'm ready, Jason!"
"Did he tell you about Agnes?"
"Yes, but I didn't understand. She doesn't want to but she will?"
"Right. When I tell her to."
"I can't imagine that!"
"Huh?"
Lee hesitated as if she had to find the right words. "How any woman can let a man dominate her that much!"
No point in talking about what an adoring ex-spinster would do for the guy she'd finally married. The other part of Agnes' background might make more sense to Lee. "Her childhood. Father image. With her family, her father was the absolute master. In everything! Divine right."
Lee shuddered again, and not from excitement. "My God, what a way to grow up!"
"Yeah. But nice now."
"For you, maybe."
"And her. I want her to have fun and be happy. She doesn't know how."
"But you're going to see that she learns."
"Yeah."
"Do we have to just wait and watch until things get far enough with Harry and her?"
"Is it all right with you?"
"I guess so. But play with me a little bit while we're waiting. Okay?"
Jason kissed the top of her head and turned her so her back rested against him, then slid both hands inside her blouse and cupped them over her breasts. "Of course," he said.
Agnes continued to press against Harry, her head rocking as she kissed him again and again and her body undulating to the urging of his hands, which stroked her back and her buttocks. Jason could see her flinch each time Harry caressed her bottom, and he knew that it was a silent protest at what she considered unwarranted familiarity. In her book, kissing and embracing were one level of intimacy, and "feeling-up" was another. She gasped suddenly and jerked free from Harry, then uttered a low, shaky laugh.
"Ooh," she exclaimed softly. "I'm sorry, Harry. I forgot myself."
"What?"
"Got carried away! I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"But it isn't fair to you; you getting carried away, too!"
Harry chuckled. "So we get carried away ... Why not?"
"It's...." Agnes paused and turned her head toward Jason.
"Go ahead, puss," Jason said.
"What? Jason!"
"Go ahead!"
"You want me to?"
"I'd like to see that."
"You-Jason, honey! You meant that this morning?"
"Yes. Go ahead."
After a long silence, Agnes nodded. "If you really want me to."
"I'd like it. Please?"
She nodded again and turned back to Harry without saying anything. She let him take her in his arms, but she merely leaned against him, no sign of excitement apparent. Then, in a strangled tone she said, "Whatever you want to do, Harry." It was suddenly miserable, Jason thought. How the hell Harry could do anything under that handicap was hard to imagine. It'd be like trying to warm up a frozen side of beef! The only glimmer of hope lay in the fact that Agnes did have a built-in thermostat; she was sensitive as hell, physically, and with a little bit of feeling-up she'd turn on again. If Harry guessed that, he was okay.
And it looked as if Harry had guessed. He lowered his face to Agnes, whispering to her, then began to kiss her again. His hands resumed their patient caresses on her back, pressing her to him and kneading her flesh. Slowly she slipped her arms around him once more and leaned into the kisses, surrendering her modesty to her primitive instincts. Harry's hand settled on her buttocks, squeezing and rubbing and prodding, and she thrust herself toward him. Jason saw her left foot move stealthily away from the right, and the ground-length back of her gown showed the lines of her legs, straight and firm like the legs of an' A. Her hips surged forward, and he knew that she'd driven her mount onto Harry's thigh, crushing her clitoris on the hard muscle there. She was responding and forcing herself to ignore the fact that it was someone besides her husband.
She spoke once more, briefly. "Jason?"
"Yeah, puss?"
"It's hard, knowing you're watching."
"But I want to."
"And I'm doing it for you. Is it exciting for you?"
"No way to say how much!"
"All right," she whispered, then lapsed again into silence, crushing her mouth to Harry's.
And Lee whispered so only Jason could hear. "I'd never have believed it! Never!"
"Someday she'll be swapping with you because she wants to," Jason muttered.
"Maybe."
Jason slowly kneaded Lee's breasts while he watched the other couple. Harry was squeezing Agnes' buttocks, pushing them together, then spreading them inside her clothes and pulling hard with both hands to crush her belly against himself. Agnes' hips were working gently now, pumping in and out as she rubbed herself against Harry's hardened penis.
Harry backed toward one of the lounges and sat on its edge, drawing Agnes down onto his lap. He laid his hand on the bare flesh in the vee of her gown and stroked her belly, his fingers disappearing beneath the material. She lay on his other arm, twisting and panting, and groped at his shoulder with her fingers. The skirt had slid from her thighs, lying under her like a rich spread, and her knees straightened so her feet were off the ground, extended with crossed ankles and tight-clamped thighs. She stiffened and tilted her head back when Harry clutched at her breasts under her dress; then she freed one of her hands and unbuttoned one end of the satin ribbon that held the garment together at her breasts, her fingers moving as slowly as if she were acting in a dream.
The taut dress front fell open, popping away from the magnificent mounds and clinging to her sides, and Lee gasped at the sight. Harry rubbed tenderly, his hands cupping under the heavy bulge of one breast and pushing upward over the swelling until it closed over areola and nipple, then repeating the gesture on the other globe. And he bent then, to take one out-thrust nipple into his mouth, sucking and chewing, while Agnes burst into low, delighted moans.
Lee put her hands to the back of her own neck, and Jason realized that she was unfastening her top. He felt the thick material fall past the backs of his hands and let go of one of her breasts to stroke her naked belly, thrilling to the smooth curvature. Lee stretched and reached back to clasp her hands at the back of his neck, her entire body tightening and stretching and her breasts tilting up saucily. And he began to stroke her vigorously from navel to throat, pausing at her breasts to manipulate them and to tease the puckered, girlish nipples.
Harry was unbuttoning the three buttons at the crotch of Agnes' gown. The cloth whispered as it slid off her nyloned hips to lie on his lap, and Jason gazed hungrily at the gently rounded fullness of Agnes' lower abdomen and the hairy mound at her crotch. Barely above the pantyhose waistband, Agnes' belly had a deep, lateral crease, folded in by her position, and above that only the sweeping-out of her flesh to her ribs and the glorious, globular masses that were her breasts. Without hesitation, Harry pushed the straps away from her shoulders and drew them off her arms, so she half-lay, half-sat across his lap in nothing but the softly gleaming pantyhose.
Then he began to roll down the waistband of that near-transparent garment. Agnes stirred and pushed weakly away from him.
"Let me," she said.
Harry helped her to her feet and steadied her while she worked the clinging material over her buttocks and hips, and he buried his fingers in her pubic hair while she bent to strip the hose from her legs. When she had drawn them off her feet she faced him, clenching her jaw and shuffling resolutely forward to straddle his knees. He caught at her shoulders and pulled her upper torso toward him, letting her beautiful globes caress his face. And as she bent from the hips he thrust one hand down and under her crotch, his fingers groping at the hidden folds there.
Agnes alternately thrust her buttocks back up as if in an effort to escape the stimulus, then down and forward as if to intensify it. Her knees were straight and tendons stood in ridges on the backs of her thighs and on the inner sides. Her knees dimpled from the force with which she held them back, and the muscles in the small of her back rippled and crawled beneath her skin. Her breasts jiggled from her smaller movements and Harry again caught a nipple in his mouth. At that action, Agnes pressed downward with the breast, flattening it on his face and twisting to rub it back and forth.
Jason knelt on one knee and Lee quietly sat on the other, maneuvering her legs to straddle it, then letting her thighs point toward the ground so her weight was on her crotch and the moist heat was pressed against his tense muscle. He dipped one hand inside the front of her panties and felt downward through the tangle of her pubic hair until his fingers found her semi crushed clitoris, which he began gently to rub. She squirmed and grunted and held his wrist with her hand, but didn't resist the intimate caress.
From this new angle Jason could see the hand that Harry had under Agnes' crotch, and he saw Harry straighten it and slide the tips of his fingers upward into the folds and bury them there. Agnes groaned deeply with an ecstatic note in her voice and suddenly bent her knees, thrusting them sideward and settling onto the intruding probe. Flexing her knees, she pumped herself up and down on Harry's hand, oblivious to everything else.
And Harry's other hand played aimlessly over the rest of her body and clutched spasmodically at her bottom.
She finally gave a deep sigh and pushed herself erect, tugging at the shoulders of Harry's turtleneck. "Come on," she urged throatily. "Come on; get undressed!"
Harry stumbled to his feet without removing his fingers from their warm refuge and Agnes fumbled at the zipper of his pants. Quickly and erratically she pushed them free of his hips, managing to push down his shorts at the same time; then she let them drop to the ground. She appeared to find the turtleneck more than she could handle, but she struggled with it until Harry at last pulled his hand out of her and finished stripping himself. She appeared to steel herself, standing rigid for a moment; then she ran her hands down his sides to his thighs and closed one around the shaft of his erect penis. He tensed and waited and she stroked gently and slowly.
"Jesus!" he whispered. Then he seized her upper arms and jerked her to him.
She extracted her hand from between them and caught his buttocks, pulling on them and thrusting her belly against his hard-on. Her hips swayed from side to side in short, slow movements and Harry's pumped up and down, his buttocks alternately tightening and relaxing. Both of them looked as if they were lost in a world of sensation without conscious thought, their eyes staring into space, their mouths loose and their bodies straining against each other. But Agnes appeared to wrench herself back to reality and she gently pushed Harry to one of the low, narrow patio benches.
Quietly, Jason raised Lee to her feet and rose to his own, and he led her closer to the other couple. Agnes glanced briefly at them, then turned her attention back to Harry. She mumbled something to him and he grinned and released her, lowering himself to the bench so that he sat on the end. Watching her face, he lay back and waited, his rigid penis lying on his belly. Lee straddled his thighs and advanced until the inner flesh of her knees was pressing his hips. She paused, gazing down at his upturned face for a moment, then moved forward again to straddle his waist. Then she bent and grasped his penis in her hand, reaching between her thighs, and began to lower herself toward the now-vertical organ.
Harry laid his hands on her thighs as if he had to feel that he was somehow participating, but his teeth were set and there were drops of perspiration on his face that were visible in the moonlight as the head of his penis disappeared in the darkness of her crotch. She continued to sink toward his groin, seating herself on him with tantalizing slow motion, and he groaned happily. She shut her eyes and let her full weight rest on him, sliding her feet backward along the grass until their soles were upward and her thighs were vertical-looking, from the side anyhow. Then she wiggled. Her hips rocked gently back and forth and her upper torso rocked to counter their thrust, and Harry's fingers tightened cruelly on her thighs.
Agnes leaned forward to rest her hands on Harry's belly and swung her feet up, hooking her insteps over the fronts of his thighs. Her face twisted with what looked to Jason like embarrassed determination and she turned to look at him again.
"Like this?" she whispered.
Jason nodded; his throat was too dry and taut for words to come. She'd remembered the morning promise. She wasn't duplicating the position but she was coming as close as she needed to and it was infinitely more erotic than he'd thought then. His balls ached and his cock ached and his belly was a mass of churning knots. Seeing in Agnes' expression what it was costing her to do this thing for him, he loved her with a frightening new kind of intensity; seeing her mounted as she was on another man-spiked on the guy's cock-he hated them both. It was a wild, impossible, mind-blowing kind of experience that he couldn't tear himself away from if his life depended on it, he realized. Hell, not even if he laid this pixie-like broad who wiggled her ass against him right now!
Agnes was concentrating on Harry again. With her feet firmly hooked over his thighs she could bounce herself up and down by flexing her thighs, and it looked as if she could control her own rhythm and the height of the bounce completely. She started by stroking slowly, raising herself until the whole shaft of Harry's penis was visible in the shadow-so only the head stayed in, Jason knew-then letting herself drop to plunge the swollen digit up into her gut again. Harry grunted explosively each time she dropped, and groaned when she raised herself. He appeared to have lost any notion of directing her action and simply gave himself up to the stimulus she provided. Her pace gradually quickened and the strokes shortened so she became a violent machine perched on him, and she added a dimension to the motion, scrubbing backward at the bottom of each stroke to grind her clitoris in the bristled flesh around the base of Harry's penis.
Jason felt the knots in his belly harden and knew that if he didn't stop dwelling so intently on the scene before him he was going to come. He shut his eyes tightly and shook his head, trying to replace the devastating scene with some harmless image, but he couldn't shut out the sounds of Harry's groans or Agnes' panting or the thumping she made when she dropped on that shaft. His hands groped for Lee, and hers for him, and when she seized his penis and squeezed, he jammed his hand down the front of her skirt and inside her panties and hooked his fingers under her hair-covered mound and into the wet heat of her crotch. Clutching desperately, he dug them into her vagina and grasped her pubic arch, crushing the soft tissues that lay over it, and she splayed her legs and drove her shoulders back against his chest.
Harry's body writhed under Agnes' bouncing, and his hips suddenly thrust upward, his ass rising from the end of the bench and his back arching in a trembling spasm. Agnes cried out and suddenly dropped forward, extending her legs and arching her own back so she rocked on him, groin to groin. With her legs straight and her toes pointed, her arms rigid and her hands planted on Harry's chest, she moaned continuously. Her breasts hung heavily toward Harry-grotesque, full cones that swung with her incessant rocking. And a terrible tremor spread through her body as she strained her head back. Her buttocks tightened until they were pocked with tension dimples, and her belly was as tautly rounded as if she were pregnant. With a final loud cry she shuddered and collapsed, falling forward on Harry and letting her legs drop limply astride him, her feet once more dragging in the grass. Harry closed his arms about her, stilling her subsiding squirms and sheltering her.
Jason gulped and shook, grateful for whatever inner control he had that had withstood orgasm at the scene. And Lee, her hips twisting and her legs flailing as she sprawled impaled on his hand, stared wild-eyed into his face and stretched her mouth in an unvoiced scream. When he looked at her, she regained enough control to speak.
"Now, Jason! Let's-Now!"
"Yeah-Now, baby!"
CHAPTER FOUR
Jason withdrew his fingers from Lee's vagina and stroked them in broad circles in the fluid that coated the inner surfaces of her labia, then pulled them forward and began to work her clitoris in smaller circles. She gasped and clutched at his arm and thrust her bottom against him, tipping her head forward and stiffening her body.
"Not too fast, darling!" she pleaded. Oh, please! Not too fast!"
He felt his throbbing hard-on protruding from the open fly of his trousers, wondering when she had unzipped them and conscious that the head was trapped between her asscheeks. And with his free hand he began to search for the fastenings of her skirt. But she seemed to sense his purpose and let go of his arm to fumble for a zipper, and in a moment the pressure of the waistband on the back of his wrist ceased and the skirt tumbled from her hips. Using both hands then, he pushed the tight panties over her delicately rounded bottom onto her thighs, and she bent in his grasp and slipped them off. Twisting, she groped at the buttons of his shirt and helped him strip.
As he stepped out of his trousers and shorts Lee laughed shakily. "That's better," she said thickly. "No more interruptions!"
He swept her off her feet and carried her to a lounge, where he deposited her on the cushion. She stretched luxuriously, arms over her head, legs extended and back arching. He stared down at her for a time, entranced by her taut lines and miniature perfection and giddy with his desire. Her breasts thrust proudly, refusing to flatten on her chest, and the thatch at her groin was thick and black and gleamed wetly. Her belly caved in and her ribs showed, even in the moonlight, and the fronts of her thighs stood out in corded ridges.
He dropped to his knees on the grass beside the lounge and bent over her, opening his mouth and taking all of one breast into it. The nipple was a hard little lump in the back of his throat, and he sucked vigorously and swallowed again and again. Lee moaned and tugged his head to her and writhed on the lounge, drawing one knee up and pushing it across the other leg, then letting it fall wide to the other side to expose her crotch. The flesh of her lower belly hung from the supporting bridge of her pubic arch as if there were no organs within to fill it, and the mound stood high, richly crowned by thick, glossy hair. From where his face was it seemed he was looking across a deep valley at a dense thicket on the top of a hill, and he reached across to caress the inner surface of her updrawn thigh.
He clambered to his feet and straddled the lounge, standing so he was over her waist and bending to knead her breasts with his hands. She gazed into his eyes, her lips parted and her breath rushing through them in erratic, hissing puffs. Her hands toyed with the hair on his belly, then raked repeatedly through his pubic hair, and she raised her head to stare past her breasts and his hands, at his bobbing hard-on. He felt one of her hands close on the aching shaft while the other cupped under his balls, cradling them and gently working them against each other.
She made a circle with one finger and her thumb and stroked it slowly up and down the length of the cock, tugging at the head at the end of each upward stroke and spreading the thin, slippery liquid that oozed from it over the entire organ. Then she caught at his buttocks and tugged at him, urging him to move forward over her body until his balls rested in the hollow of her throat. Bending his cock down, she placed its tip to her lips and kissed it, thrusting the tip of her tongue out and licking the rim of the sensitized slit.
As if the cock were a massive lollipop, she put her lips around the slopes of the head and drew them back over it, stripping it of its coating of lubricant and sucking at it. She did that over and over, and waves of buzzing excitement coursed over him. His knee flexed, lowering his body, and she extended her jaws to their widest position to let the great bulb pass them and bore into the cavern of her. Tightening her lips around the shaft she sucked vigorously, and he felt her tongue scrubbing the underside of the head.
Her arms were around his thighs, and her hands squeezed his buttocks, pulling them apart so her fingers could probe the crevice and caress the rim of his anus. She let go of his ass for a moment, and he twisted and looked down to discover that she was paddling her fingers in the juice that covered her own crotch. When they were thoroughly wetted, she caught at his ass again and rubbed the mucus-like fluid deeply into the crack, and again her fingers massaged the taut ring that sealed his rectum. She pressed, and he felt the tip of a finger penetrate him, creating a sudden, fiery pain and a greater sense of sexual pressure. She stabbed inward with her finger and gulped at his cock, driving her face up to take more of the shaft into her mouth.
Jason shuddered at the chaotic sensations that battered him, and he was vaguely aware that she was thrusting more fingers into his tortured anus to join the first. Helpless in sudden wild excitement that engulfed him, he crouched over her, burying his fingers in her hair and groaning in delight. With the agility of a contortionist, Lee twisted her body, raising her legs behind him, then curling up to thrust her ass into the air. She thrust one foot between his arm and his body, catching her heel against the front of his shoulder, then repeated the maneuver with her other leg. And he clasped her legs in the angles of his arms and pulled her tightly to him, letting her belly warm his buttocks and press against her hands.
There was a deep roaring within his head, and a haze of passion blinded him, but some unexpected kernel of strength enabled him to resist his orgasm and prolong the pleasure. But he knew that control couldn't last, and he felt his thighs tensing and pumping, forcing his cock deeper into Lee's gulping throat and making his rectum squeeze her twisting fingers. She increased the force of her sucking and began to swallow, putting spasmodic pressure on the head of his penis, and he gave in to the hot turmoil in his belly. The internal knots clamped hard and a burst of savage, buzzing sensation raged at the roots of his cock. Helpless to stem the flow, he pumped a searing load of jism into her greedy mouth, dizzily watching her frantic swallowing and feeling the sudden tensing of her hands. Suddenly, without warning, she jerked her hands free, ripping her fingers from his distended anus in a movement that shot jagged knives of lightning through him, and wrenching a startled shriek of agony and unbearable pleasure from him. A second explosive jet of semen spurted through his cock into her throat, and her swallows redoubled their pace.
Jason squeezed off the last of his racking orgasmic expulsions and felt the rigidity of his body subside, and he hugged Lee's legs to him with affection, waiting for her to thrust his now-softening penis from her mouth. But she continued to suck on it, her dark eyes gazing up into his, and smile-dimples showing at the comers of her lips. To his amazement and delight, he felt stray tendrils of new excitement in the imprisoned head and tingles in the skin of his scrotum. Gulping for air, he crouched lower, letting himself wallow in the pleasure of renewed hunger. Lee massaged the flaccid shaft of his cock with her fingers and licked the head vigorously, and he felt stabs of life in it and a gradual renewal of its hardness. He caressed her temples with his fingertips and ran them over her cheeks, exploring the hollows that her sucking produced. She was something new in his experience, and he wondered if any woman in history had ever exercised this kind of follow-up before.
He felt a sudden need to arouse her as she had him, bringing her diminished excitement back to the peak she'd had before he'd deposited her on this lounge, and he gently straightened, pushing himself up and disengaging his penis from her willing lips. He stepped off and turned around, and Lee let her legs down. But he straddled her again, his crotch above her face, then reached down to grasp her thighs close to her knees. Lifting her legs, he pulled them back and thrust her calves under his armpits, raising her buttocks into the air and standing her on her shoulders. He felt her hand on his cock and she bent it down and back into her mouth, but he was gazing into the wet, swollen heart of her vulva, with the mouth of her vagina winking darkly up at him, and he lowered his head and caressed the steaming flesh with his tongue.
Lee's hips jerked and her legs stiffened convulsively. The tendons in the backs of her thighs stood out, quivering, and her buttocks bumped and ground. He licked methodically, scooping up strands of thickening juice and swallowing them and driving the tip of his tongue to the rim of the gaping hole. Her body writhed beneath him and she chewed at his penis, and he thrust his tongue into her vagina and pressed his jaws into the pulpy flesh that surrounded it. Then he withdrew his tongue and thrust it in again, and she bucked and cried out, releasing his cock. His tongue darted in and out and she grew rapidly more agitated, her ass bucking and her thighs leaping against his tight grip. Pulling his face back, he caught strands of her pubic hair between his teeth, and tugged, watching the wisps raise the skin of her labia into tiny tents.
He probed along the trough with his tongue, then placed his fingers at the sides of her clitoris and stripped back the thin little hood that covered it. In the silver of the moonlight he could see the tiny, volcano-shaped lump quiver, and he touched it lightly with his tongue-tip. Lee drew her breath in with a deep, shuddering gasp and her body lashed against him. Carefully, he closed his lips over the defenseless organ and began to suck at it. Lee bucked and jerked, and her legs churned in the restriction of his grip, and he closed his teeth gently on the hardening clitoris and teased it.
She pounded the lounge with her fists, then clawed at his forearms, but he sucked in the entire organ and scrubbed it with his tongue. Lee's excitement rose to a frenzy and she flailed violently in' the grip of his arms, twisting and squirming to escape the agonizing stimulus. He drove his hips forward and crushed his cock against her front, clasping her to him and chewing harder. He dabbled his fingers in the plentiful new fluid that welled from her vagina, and spread it into the crack of her ass, rubbing it onto the puckered rim of her anus. Slowly and deliberately he inserted a finger into her rectum, smiling to himself as her buttocks winked convulsively. Pulling the cheeks apart, he rotated the inserted finger until her frantic tightness began to relax; then he forced a second finger into the hole beside the first.
He cupped the other hand, placing the tips of all four fingers and his thumb together, and he pressed the bulky wedge into the yawning opening of her vaginal mouth. Her slippery rim distended slowly before the inexorable pressure, and her vagina swallowed his insistent hand, his knuckles boring down before the tip of his nose. Her mindless thrashing accelerated and the lounge squeaked protestingly, and he realized by Lee's incoherent babbling that she was approaching her orgasm. She went rigid, the backs of her legs clamping against the backs of his shoulders, and tremors shook her body. She yelled-a continuous, undulating sound that sounded like an unbroken series of rhythmic groans, and with each crescendo, the walls of her vagina squeezed his hand, and her rectum clamped like an iron ring on the fingers of his other hand.
At last, the contractions subsided and she went limp. Jason continued to suck, producing a half-dozen laggard convulsions in her; then he gently disentangled her and laid her flat. He awkwardly clambered free of his straddling position, and stretched out on the lounge beside her. She clasped him in her arms and pressed against him. His penis was hard and swollen, and he jammed it hard on her hip, his hand slowly rubbing the bristled flesh in her crotch. She kissed him and let her breath puff against his face and made soft, contented sounds in her throat.
"I think I can go again, darling," she murmured.
"You're all hard and wet!"
"Let's see if you can," he said softly.
He rotated her clitoris with his fingers and she shuddered and jerked her hips.
"Yes! God, yes, Jason!"
The delicate tracings of corded tendons had disappeared from her flesh, and her muscles knotted and bulged, and his fingers toyed eagerly with the pulp at her crotch. She thrust her breasts against him and gouged him with her fingernails, raising her legs and pedaling at the air with her feet.
"Oh, God, darling! I want to roll! Put me on the grass!" she pleaded, and Jason willingly rolled off the lounge and pulled her to the cool ground with him. They rolled and tumbled, and she grabbed at his cock as he maintained his grip on her crotch. Finally, he scrambled to his knees and positioned himself between her thighs, reaching back to grasp her legs and lift them. He pushed them up and back until her thighs lay against her belly and her knees pressed the outer bulges of her breasts, her bottom raised and gaping at him. Bending, he laid the head of his penis against the heat of her vaginal mouth and leaned on the stiff shaft. The head plunged from sight and the shaft drove inward, burying itself in her. He pumped with his hips, giddy at the sensation of ramming against the inner end of her barrel. And she bucked in response to his rhythm, her cunt bouncing up and down on the lever of his cock.
He pulled back, letting his dripping tool dangle over her twitching flesh; then he used one hand to lower it and place its tip against the tight rim of her anus.
"No, Jason! For God's sake don't!" she whispered with panic in her eyes.
But he pressed downward, his penis slowly separating the reluctant sphincter, and grasped her calves to force her legs down along her sides. Her eyes bulged and she strained her mouth wide-open, as if she were going to scream, but the head disappeared and his shaft slowly followed it, and she made no sound but a strangled whimpering. He felt the spasms ease in her rectum, and his penis slid in until its base rested flat in the trough between her cruelly parted asscheeks. Tentatively, her hips began to surge; then their motion intensified and she began to thrash against him. He pumped at her, battering her upturned ass and watching her breasts leap to the jarring impacts her body was absorbing.
On impulse, he straightened her legs so her heels rested on his shoulders, and he slipped his hands under her waist and rocked back, lifting her from the ground and driving her forcibly onto his shaft. She grasped his wrists with her hands, and he struggled to his feet. Holding her with his hands, he swept her back and forth, smashing her ass against the front of his hips and feeling his cock slide in and out of her rectum. Her hair flew in a cloud beneath her flogging head, and her breasts surged back and forth on her chest. Her belly was creased with the folds of her tension, and her thighs shook violently. She dug her nails into his arms, and he could feel the wetness of trickling blood.
He was vaguely aware that Agnes had pushed herself up and was staring at the wild scene. His wife still straddled Harry's hips, and she was still impaled on his friend's cock, her own hips jerking forward and backward in sympathetic response to the flogging body of her feminine guest.
The awareness burned into Jason, magnifying the savage ecstasy of his own activity, and he slammed her back and forth with paralyzing force.
"Jason!" Lee gasped. "Oh, Jason, I'm going to come!"
He bounced her against him again, and when he swung her outward, he pulled her off his cock, the shouldered head snapping through her ring with a startling wrench. She shrieked, and he rammed her back, his aim shifting so that his cock plunged full-length into her vagina. Her shriek of agony turned to one of pleasure, and she squirmed on his shaft in a paroxysm of uncontrollable joy.
He staggered under the sudden flood of passion that engulfed him, and he felt the burning flood of semen erupt through his penis. Desperately, he shifted his arms, one at a time, releasing Lee's legs and pulling her up toward him. As her body stiffened in answering climax, she clamped her thighs about his waist and groped for his shoulders, flattening herself against him and sinking her teeth in the flesh of his chest. Her hips rotated slowly and powerfully, grinding her clitoris on his pubic arch, and he felt her inner organs churning around the head of his penis while the walls of her vagina contracted in a convulsive series of spasms.
When her sexual fury faded, she clung to him, limp and exhausted, panting and weak. He sagged from his own exhaustion and staggered backward to the lounge, where he dropped onto its cushion, still clasping Lee's diminutive form to him. And he watched tiredly as Agnes, re-aroused by his example, thrust herself in a violent set of jounces on Harry's straining mast.
CHAPTER FIVE
Trembling with fatigue, the two couples gathered their clothes and stumbled into the house. For a time there was a sound of rushing water and grumbling; then all four were dressed and crowded at the bar. Agnes looked downcast and frightened, but Jason saw that Harry and Lee shared his elation. The swap had infused them with enthusiasm, as it had him, and their faces glowed with pleasure at the memory.
He studied Agnes, wondering what it was that made her look different to him; then he realized abruptly that she had shown a last spark of defiant independence. She'd simply gotten back into her gown, without putting on her pantyhose, and unless she'd substituted panties for them she was as naked under the revealing garment as she had been in the backyard. A familiar and delightful tightness seized his scrotum and his penis stirred. The moment the Minsks left, he'd investigate this strange phenomenon!
Harry and Lee were exchanging glances that made him suspect they'd found reserves of erotic desire, and in a short time they started to excuse themselves.
"It was fun tonight," Lee murmured, squeezing Agnes' arm. "I'm glad we swapped."
Agnes looked from Jason to Harry and flushed, then gazed into Lee's eyes through lowered lashes. "It was fun," she admitted slowly.
"Maybe again sometime." Lee smiled.
Agnes hesitated. "I don't know," she said at last.
Harry chuckled. "We gotta, baby. Groovy scene." And he stroked his beard.
Jason visualized the beard lying on Agnes' belly and Harry mouthing her clitoris, and the tension in his groin intensified. They'd swap again, he thought. And again and again! He and Agnes went to the door with Harry and Lee and waited there while the other couple went to the drive and got into their car. Harry opened the window and leaned out as he started the engine.
"You Roushes put on first-class entertainment. Let's make it our place next time."
"Right," Jason replied. "Good night."
"Good night."
Jason turned and put his arm around Agnes, and they went inside and closed the door. Agnes shivered, and Jason took her in his arms and held her tightly, waiting for the tenseness of her embarrassment to diminish.
"Honey," she said.
"Hmm?"
"Did it excite you?"
"Blew my mind!" he exclaimed. "Baby, you were outta sight!"
"I didn't embarrass you?"
"Christ, no!"
"I love you so, Jason! I just want to make you happy."
"I love you, too, puss."
"You did an awful lot with Lee." Her voice sounded faintly envious. "I guess you're really worn out."
"Funny about that."
"Huh?"
"Feel like I didn't even get a nibble."
"Jason!" From her tone, she'd been startled out of her numbness. "Really?"
"Feel like a tiger!"
"Ooh!"
"C'mere. I got an inspiration. Something I want to try."
"All right," she whispered, an expression of anticipation entering her face. "All right, honey." He led her to the bar and rummaged through the odds and ends behind it until he found a roll of masking tape. He studied it doubtfully, then nodded to himself and laid it on the bar top. Returning to Agnes, he kissed her, caressing her and feeling her start to tremble. Fumbling between their bellies, he unbuttoned her gown and let it fall open, a quick exploratory caress confirming his guess that she wore nothing under it.
"Bend over the stool," he said.
Agnes stared at the stool then at him, then drew the stool to her. Its round, cushioned seat rested against the golden mass of her pubic hair, and she still hesitated for a moment before cautiously bending over it. Her gown covered her like a sheet, revealing by highlights the bulging fullness of her buttocks. Jason retrieved the masking tape from the bar top and knelt beside the stool. Taking her left wrist in his hand he extended her arm along one of the stool legs, and she let her weight rest on her belly. He loosened the end of the tape, held her wrist against the wooden leg, and passed four layers of tape around her wrist and the leg. Quickly then, he repeated the process with her right wrist and straightened.
She now lay on the stool, her legs stiff and her toes firmly pressed against the floor to support the weight of her lower body. He grasped her left ankle and raised it, forcing her to bend her knee so her thigh crossed outside a stool leg. Then he clamped her ankle against the leg at the point where one of the rungs met it and taped it with six layers of the masking tape. And he did the same thing with her right leg, so that she straddled the stool legs with her knees. He gathered the draped gown in his hands and lifted it over her curled shape, letting it fall down her arms and hang from her wrists; then he stepped back and gazed at her.
The stool was high and narrow with a thick seat. She was draped over the seat with her breasts hanging past one side of it and her arms stretched downward along the legs. Her back was humped and her bottom thrust out toward him, her thighs widely spread and pressed against the other legs of the stool. Her ankles were securely immobilized and the bottoms of her feet faced upward. Her pubic hair ran into her crotch, lining the sides of the gaping pink gash that stared back at him, and he noticed that the pinkness gleamed with layered moisture.
"Ooh, Jason!" she puffed. "I feel awful! This is so horribly undignified!"
"But wild, baby!" He stripped unhurriedly, feasting his gaze on her helpless form; then he approached her. He let his penis lie in the valley between her buttocks and reached around and under her to clutch her breasts in his hands. He kneaded the pendulous globes and pressed against his trapped penis, and her hips began to move slowly. She was the greatest, he told himself, and she could respond to sex stimulus no matter what the situation was.
He stepped back and laid his hands on her taut buttocks, caressing them and squeezing the tops of her thighs. She twisted, moving her hips from side to side and straining at the tape that held her ankles, and he let his fingers stray to the inner surfaces of her labia. But there ought to be some way to give her a special thrill, he thought. No matter how stimulating a position was to his senses, the physical stimuli were always the same for her. There just had to be some way he could do something to her tonight that would feel different. It would be a kind of reward for being so splendid about the swap!
There was the rotary blender for cocktails in the bar, of course; maybe he could rig it! He left her and got out the blender, a small electric motor designed to be hand-held, with a single shaft extending about six inches to a wave-edged disk that screwed on and off. He unscrewed the disc and found the bottle brush that had come as an alternate attachment, and screwed it on with excitement that made his fingers shake. Plugging the cord into an outlet near the base of the front of the bar, he turned on the motor and played the spinning brush over Agnes' back and sides.
She cried out with a squeal of delight, and he ran the brush in her armpits and down to her breasts. As it whisked the jiggling globes she began to moan.
"Jason, honey! Omigod, Jason, that's wild!"
"Like it, puss?"
"Oh, Christ yes!"
He knelt and gazed at her breasts while he applied the brush, and he saw her nipples swell and stiffen and darken as Agnes' excitement mounted. He moved, reaching inside the stool legs and running the brush over the insides of her thighs while she jerked her knees and writhed on the padded seat. When he went around her and pressed the blurred bristles to the tight-stretched backs of her thighs her hips jounced up and down and she grunted and gasped, and the closer the brush came to the tops of her legs the more violent she got.
His own excitement raged with her reactions, and he gritted his teeth at the way she bucked when he played the brush over her buttocks. But he knew that the supreme response was yet to come, and he sensed that Agnes was anticipating with mingled fear and eagerness the moment when he let the bristles skim the surfaces of her labia. The thought grew to an obsession, and he finally yielded, holding the mechanism so that the very tips of the whirring bristles whipped the turgid folds. Agnes screamed with pleasure and lashed her hips to and fro, her tendons leaping and her body jumping. The deep pink shade of the membranes flushed and darkened, and the slopes swelled and spread until the tantalizing brush was whisking over them, as well.
"Not too much!" Agnes panted wildly. "Not too much, honey! It'll take the skin off!"
But she bucked and thrust her crotch back onto the brush and rose to a frenzy of motion. Jason shook his head to clear his eyes of the red spots that danced before him and to quiet the roar that filled his head, and he swallowed to ease the dry ache in his throat. His effort had paid off; he'd found something that produced new sensations for her!
He pulled the brush away then, and turned off the motor, watching Agnes collapse with relief, her body heaving to her deep panting. Then he went back to the bar and unscrewed the brush. Replacing the stirring disc, he found one of the smallest bar sponges, wrapped it over the disc, and used masking tape to secure it to the shaft. After a moment's pause, he soaked the sponge with olive oil and went around Agnes. Holding the sponge against her yawning labia, he turned on the motor again, and her hips leaped convulsively. He pressed hard this time, the sponge spinning over her slippery surfaces, lubricated by the oil and her own fluid, and watched the blunt end of the device sink slowly into the funnel of the gyrating lips.
Agnes groaned and shouted, and her body wrenched incessantly. The mouth of her vagina widened and gulped at the spinning sponge, and Agnes' knees stiffened to thrust her bottom into the air. Jason saw a tiny tear appear at the edge of the tape that held her left ankle, and he withdrew the sponge and turned off the motor, wrapping ten more layers of tape around each of her ankles and a half-dozen more around each wrist.
He turned on the motor and reapplied the sponge to her now-distended vaginal mouth, and she immediately straightened her knees to thrust her ass into a high angle. Her hips swung in wide circles, and her breasts hung toward her face, jerking like erratic pendulums. The muscles in her belly stood out and those in the backs of her thighs were hard, bright ridges. Her head hung between her arms and her hair tumbled in golden masses toward the floor. There was no trace of culture or civilization in her frantic movements or the awkward position, simply raw, primitive sex, and Jason's heart pounded painfully in his chest.
Suddenly Agnes called out to him. "Honey! You're making me come! You want me to come right now, honey?"
"Not yet." He pulled the spinning sponge away and gently stroked her pumping thighs with his hand. Her tremors eased and she sank back onto the stool, panting violently and moaning between gasps.
He'd never be able to remember exactly the way her body looked right now, Jason thought. The excitement that tore at him was too intense to let all of the details register, and even some of those that did would fade as soon as they were finished and he'd cut the tape. Leaving her to calm further, he went to the den and got out their Polaroid camera and its tripod. When she was over her passion, Agnes would fret about pictures, but there'd be times when he'd relish the ability to relive this experience.
He set up the tripod in the living room, moving it about for the best angle, and flashed a picture. Removing the first film, he jockeyed for another angle and took another, then rigged the self-timing exposure control. When he stripped away the developing pack from the two photos, he gasped at the sharp, vivid focus and color. And he turned on the motor and thrust the sponge against Agnes' labia. She warmed quickly, resuming her thrashing, and he paused for a moment to actuate the timer, then drove the sponge into the glistening opening before him. Again she reacted by thrusting herself off the stool and into the air, and he pressed firmly with the stirrer until the camera flash came.
"No, no, honey! Stop or I'll come!" Agnes had a note of panic in her voice.
He jerked the sponge away and turned off the power, then went to the camera and extracted the third exposure. When the minute of developing time had passed, he examined the photo. The flash had brilliantly highlighted Agnes' straining tendons and her upthrust buttocks, and her breasts gleamed clearly beyond the web of stool legs and rungs. Even the expression on her face was clearly framed by the wooden rungs. Sighing with satisfaction, Jason laid the photo beside the other two on the bar top and eyed the mix bottles that lined the service counter. He took a bottle of tonic and returned to Agnes, where he pressed its bottom against the wet flesh that surrounded her vagina.
She pushed backward at the pressure and he could see the red flesh stretch. Slowly her vaginal mouth opened under the continuing pressure, and suddenly the bottom of the bottle popped through it and into her. He thrust the entire bottle in, using the neck to work it in and out, and Agnes bounced her hips in vigorous response.
"Oh, God, that's big, honey!" she groaned. "What is it? What's in me?"
He told her, and she shuddered.
"It'll stretch me out of shape! I'll be too big!"
"Not that hole," he said. "It's built to be the right size for anything!"
"Oh, Jason! I feel so wicked and so good!"
The pumping of her hips grew more desperate and he stroked the bottle faster. Besides the up-and-down, back-and-forth jerking of her crotch, she swung herself from side to side in a slow, urgent rhythm, and her buttocks writhed like living mounds of intelligent tissue.
Jason interrupted the action to move the tripod closer, sighting through the camera's viewfinder to be sure of focus; then he reset the timer and actuated it. Carefully, he stepped onto one of the rungs at the side of the stool and swung his other leg over so he straddled Agnes, facing her rear. Again he plunged the bottle into her, and he rested his ass on her back while he pumped the bottle with both hands. His testicles bulged against her and his penis thrust upward at a stiff angle, and his thighs clamped on her waist to restrict her thrashing. He thought wryly of the similarity between the motion of his hands now and that of masturbating, and he thrust harder. The camera bulb flashed in his eyes and he grinned wolfishly at the idea of what he'd recorded.
But Agnes had at last registered the flash. "Jason! That flash of light!"
"Yeah?"
"Jason! Omigod, honey! Was that a camera?"
"Sure!"
"Oh, no! Oh, God, no, Jason! Not a picture!"
"Look, puss, this is as exciting a position as I've ever seen you in! I don't want to lose it!"
"But I'll always be here, honey!"
"Not here on this stool. Want me to put you here every time I want to remember how it looked?"
"Well...."
"Christ, how'd that be? Get your clothes off and get on the bar stool, baby. I wanta get a look at that position again. Want that?"
"But someone might see the pictures!"
She groaned in a tone of resignation and he clambered off the stool and extracted the bottle. He rinsed it and placed it back on the shelf, then took care of the fourth exposure, laying the finished photo with the others. He rubbed his aching penis, recognizing that he'd come nearly to the limit of his self-control.
Returning to Agnes after resetting the camera timer, he massaged her clitoris until her bottom was gyrating wildly, then grasped her hips and thrust the head of his cock against the mouth of her vagina. He lunged brutally, driving into her until the base of his shaft slammed against the pulp of her labia. She stiffened and screamed, then lashed herself on the impaling club, grinding herself on it in an agony of ecstasy. He pumped fiercely, ignoring the flash when the camera tripped, and feeling the gathering violence of his excitement. Agnes came first, her body going rigid and shaking helplessly, and he felt the walls of her vagina milking his throbbing cock. Then his gut felt as if a giant fist had slammed into it, and hot semen spurted through his passage to spew into Agnes. He strained his belly against her buttocks and squeezed his jism into her vagina, feeling the heated pool submerging his penis and her writhing organs stirring it.
The awesome seizure passed and his muscles started to tremble. He leaned against her weakly, realizing that she hung on the stool in limp, motionless exhaustion, and his hands absently caressed her back and her relaxing buttocks. After a long time, he backed away, his semi-erect penis pulling out of its cave with wet noises and a tingle still keeping his scrotum tight and painful. Agnes made no movement, and he knelt to study her face, wondering if she'd fainted or something. Her eyes were closed, but she was breathing evenly, and relief flooded him.
He cut the tape from her wrists, then on impulse crossed them and taped them together. Releasing her ankles, he rolled her from the stool into his arms and laid her face-up on the top of the bar, her arms extended beyond her head and her breasts mounding magnificently. He separated her thighs until her knees were over the edges of the bar and her feet hung toward the floor, and again he maneuvered the tripod for angle. Her belly caved inward and her blonde pubic thatch projected like a gleaming crown. The still-swollen tissues of her crotch glistened with the mixture of her sex juice and his semen, but the redness had faded and left them pink once more. He moved quickly, taking one exposure from near the end of the bar, looking over her quiet face at her body, taking another directly from the side, a third from a quartering angle across her thigh, and a fourth from the other end, looking straight into the hair-framed gash in her crotch. She stirred fitfully at the last flash, and he again cut the tape from her wrists.
Without opening her eyes, she whispered, "Are you going to fuck me again, honey?"
"Want me to?"
"If you want. But I'll just wiggle my toes."
"Tired?"
"Dead," she said contentedly. Then, "Are you happy, Jason?"
"Happy, puss."
"I'm glad."
CHAPTER SIX
They slept late Sunday morning, and when he finally awakened, Jason guessed that Agnes would be too stiff and tired to do much more than drag around the house. There was a tenderness in his penis that brought his thoughts immediately to the activities of the night before, and he lay quietly for a time, reviewing what had happened. Agnes had been magnificent with Harry, in spite of her inner reluctance, and his own match with Lee had been an unexpectedly wild adventure. But what made the night was what they'd done after the Minsks had left, and visions kept rising in his mind of the fantastic eroticism of Agnes' position on the barstool.
He vaguely recalled reading or hearing somewhere of bondage as a tool in sex, but he knew he'd brushed off the notion impatiently; what the hell did a virile, active man need to bother with stuff like that for? Especially when he had no trouble persuading broads to do just about what he wanted them to without it? And he hadn't thought of bondage while he was securing Agnes to the stool or during the ensuing activity. But that was sure as hell what they'd played with! Looking at it that way, there wasn't anything objectionable about the practice except the name, and he wasn't going to let a goddamn label put a mental block in the way of something as useful and as much fun as that!
Pressure in his bladder finally forced him from the bed, and he gave up the idea of further sleep, and shaved and dressed. As he was getting ready to leave the bedroom, Agnes stirred and stretched, kicking off the covers and smiling sleepily at him while he gazed at her glorious nakedness.
"Mmm, honey!" she exclaimed sleepily. "Did I dream it, or did we do all kinds of weird things last night?"
He grinned. "We did 'em. All of 'em!"
"I thought so." She shivered and arched her back off the mattress. "It's late, isn't it?"
"Only nine."
"Nine!" She scrambled from the bed and stood erect.
Christ! he thought. She looks like a goddess or something ... like one of those Greek statues! Only better. He told her so and she blushed and laughed. When she disappeared into the bathroom he went down the hall to the living room. The camera still perched on its tripod and there were gobs of twisted masking tape on the floor and clinging to the legs of the stool. He put the tape remnants in the wastebasket and closed the camera and tripod. And he noticed the eight photos on the service shelf of the bar. He studied them while he was dismantling the impromptu tool he'd rigged on the stirrer, and when the mess was cleaned he lined the pictures in sequence on the bar top and continued to analyze them.
He'd exercised flawless judgment, he decided; each photo revealed beauty and detail he'd been too excited to notice during the action. He'd take a lesson from that by starting an album-a special-security album, of course, to be kept safely locked away from prying eyes-for collecting a photographic record of Agnes' erotic development. And he sensed that the photographic objective would suggest highly exciting things to him that might not have come to mind otherwise. Agnes wasn't going to be enthusiastic about the project, but she'd give in if he insisted.
He put the pictures away in his desk, handling them with extra care, and reloaded the camera. Maybe he ought to take some of the future shots with his Rollerflex he thought, so he'd have negatives to use for enlargements. But if he did that, he'd have to outfit a darkroom and buy an enlarger, and he hadn't considered darkroom work before as a hobby that would appeal to him. Still, this project might give it a different kind of appeal.
When Agnes came out of the bedroom she was lively and relaxed. She didn't look at all as if she'd had a strenuous night. In fact, Jason reflected, she acted more like a carefree virgin! And she continued to act like it throughout the day. He finally decided that maybe a woman derived strength and refreshment from really wild sex, and that was a happy kind of thing!
During the afternoon Jason kept thinking about the idea of a photographic record of Agnes' development, and he gradually persuaded himself that he ought to start a supporting file of pictures-nude shots-of her in nonerotic poses as a baseline for the others. The concept took hold and grew until it drove every other thought from his mind, and in mid-afternoon he got out both cameras and set up the tripod in the backyard.
He sensed that Agnes was restless and had run out of weekend projects, and he broached the subject without preamble. "Let's start a folio of nude pictures, baby."
"Jason! For heaven's sake!"
"Why not?"
"It's ... Well, someone'd find them someday."
"I doubt it. Anyhow, I want to."
"Do we have to?"
"Please?"
"Well, okay. Sometime."
"Now. Go ahead, puss, get undressed."
She hesitated and looked stormy, but then she turned and went into the hall. Jason waited patiently, and at length she returned wearing her housecoat. Jason grinned and went to her.
"That's not what I had in mind," he said, unwrapping the robe and slipping it off her motionless arms.
"I just didn't want to run around naked while you were getting ready," she objected.
He laid the robe on the bar and took her hand. "I'm ready." He led her toward the back door.
"Oh, Jason! Outdoors?"
"Sure!"
She subsided, going with him without further protest. And for an hour and a half she posed for him, at first responding to his directions like a puppet, and then as the novelty wore off improvising her own poses. He used two film packs in the Polaroid and three rolls of film in the Rollei before deciding that they had enough shots. Then Agnes teased him until he made love to her on the grass.
"I just wanted to see how it felt with the grass tickling me," she confessed while she clung to him, her legs clamped tightly around his waist. "Know what? It's fun!"
"With you, it's fun anywhere, baby."
She giggled and squirmed, and after they were finished they went inside and showered together.
That night while they watched TV, Agnes asked in a thoughtful tone, "Is sex the most important thing to you, honey?"
Jason nodded.
Agnes persisted. "Really, I mean. Is it really more important to you than anything else?"
"Yeah."
"Even me?"
"Damn it, puss! You are sex to me! Except you're sex in capital letters, and everyone else is in small letters."
She looked worried and upset, but her expression kept changing, and it was obvious she was turning the idea over in her mind. And at last her face cleared and she broke the silence again. "I guess everyone's got something that's more important than anything else. With me, it's just making you happy. That's because I want to make you keep loving me. No, I guess I'd still want you to be happy even if you stopped loving me."
"I don't think I'll ever stop. I can't imagine that."
"I'm glad." She got out of her chair and came closer. "But sex is it for you."
"Sure is."
Slowly she unbuttoned her blouse and laid it aside. Then, while he stared at her in disbelief, she removed her bra and slipped out of her skirt and panties. She came to the back of his chair and bent over him, resting her breasts on his shoulders so the warmth of their valley heated the back of his neck. And she rested her hands on his chest, rubbing lightly and humming to herself.
He felt disoriented and half-uneasy, wondering what kind of aberration had seized her. The last thing he wanted was a robot without a will, no matter how sexy and how willing to gratify his whims. Hell, that'd rob him of reality and dump him into the fantasy world! He'd liked the idea that Agnes was ready to do anything he asked her to, even when she didn't really want to. But he'd liked it partly because it excited him to see her overcome her inhibitions and partly because she'd always responded quickly to the stimuli he applied. In the long run, she'd had to admit to herself that she was glad she'd accepted his desire. It'd be impossible if she subdued her own reactions and turned into a passive sex machine! No way could he buy that!
But she seemed contented and very happy right now, and when he turned his head slightly the warm softness of a breast against his cheek was delightful.
Thoughtfully, he took off his shirt so he could feel the globular masses directly against his skin; then as an afterthought he unzipped his trousers and kicked them off with his shorts. Might as well be ready if things went further. He petted the resting breasts with his fingers as if they were a pair of kittens, letting his touch linger frequently on the nipples, and Agnes continued to touch the top of his head with brief kisses.
"I kind of like this," she said softly after awhile. "It's getting me excited, though."
He chuckled. "Anything wrong with getting excited?"
"Not when I'm with you. Only it seems to me it'd be fun just to do this sometime without getting all worked up and violent."
"I heard about a rite the Japanese used to have that was something like that."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It was like a sort of self-discipline, I guess. Sounded like torture to me."
"What was it?"
"Guy used to train himself to lie with his penis in his woman and not get his load off. Object was to get so they could go all night that way."
"Without coming? All night!"
"Yeah."
"Every night?"
Jason laughed. "I guess not. But often enough so he could keep the skill."
"For what? That'd be awful!"
"They didn't say anything about the woman not coming. Probably another one of those bits about gaining complete control of a guy's involuntary actions. Part of Buddhism, maybe." He paused, then added, "Or Yoga."
"Would it be terribly hard to do, Jason?"
"I'd think so! A guy'd have to stay stiff enough to keep it in but quiet enough to keep from coming."
"Would it hurt?"
"After a few hours it'd be torture. Staying up and not getting any relief, I mean."
"Brrr!" Agnes shivered; then she pressed her hands to the sides of her breasts to squeeze them against his face. "It might be nice to have it in that long, though," she said wistfully. "Especially if I could come when I wanted to."
"We'll try it sometime."
"Tonight? Can we try it tonight, honey?"
He laughed. "It wasn't a one-night exercise, baby! They trained. Hell, I don't know how long it took 'em to get that kind of control."
"But we could see how long you could keep from coming."
"Or from going soft."
"That'd be fun."
"Oh, okay. We can try."
"Now?"
Maybe he'd been a damn fool to mention the thing at all, he reflected. Not that he'd mind it, though. A guy sometimes daydreamed about going through life with some broad impaled on his dick. Trouble was, he was generally thinking about the excitement of a good screwing and not the quiet struggle between loss of interest and overreaction. And that balance was likely to be a sonofabitch to maintain!
Agnes straightened, the air chilling his shoulders where they'd perspired under her breasts, and she came around the chair to straddle his outstretched legs. For a moment he thought she meant to pull him to his feet, but she placed her hands on the arms of the chair and began to lower her crotch over his semi-reposing penis.
"Hey! Here?" he asked incredulously.
"Isn't that the way you liked it?"
"Christ yes, but-?"
"It isn't late enough to go to bed yet."
"Great! Baby, what's happened to you?"
"Nothing!"
He studied her figure and stroked her gently with his fingers and saw his penis swell and harden. There was a difficult moment while they maneuvered her into position; then she squirmed backward and forced the mouth of her vagina over the bulging head of his penis. She continued to wriggle until she'd engulfed his entire shaft, then subsided on him, her legs together and stretched out on his with her ankles crossed, her great globes flattened on his chest, and her cheek resting on his shoulder.
"Mmm," she said. "I like this already!"
"Me, too." But it was far too peaceful and restful. It would take only minutes for him to lose his erection and disqualify himself. There had to be some knack for keeping just enough excitement going to sustain a hard-on. He stroked Agnes' back and thought about the delicious plumpness of her buttocks; then he let himself remember how she'd looked riding Harry. There was a flood of adrenalin in his system at that, and he suddenly had almost more of a hard-on than he wanted. But he knew he'd found one good emergency treatment in case he let himself relax too far.
His hands wandered to the pert buttocks and caressed them, kneading and rubbing and toying with finger-sized rolls that he caught in his grip. Agnes began to twitch, and he realized that caresses which were meant simply to keep him from getting too relaxed were likely to have other effects on her. When her hips started to undulate he knew he'd gotten her more excited than he'd intended to. He let his hands lie motionless on her bottom and watched her hips continue to work. He liked the sensation in his penis; the mouth of her vagina was tight and warm and the inner walls molded themselves snugly to the imprisoned shaft and head. There was an occasional stirring inside as if one of her organs had moved, and he was conscious of the prickle of her pubic hair on his scrotum and at the roots of his own thatch.
Agnes turned her head and kissed his shoulder, and her hand stole up to caress his jaw. The movements of her hips were growing more pronounced, and he could feel a hard, bony ridge grinding on the ridge of his pubic arch. Odd moments came from time to time when it felt as if a fibrous lump were trapped between the bones, then flipped over and slid free. That had to be the body of her clitoris, he realized, and he understood the reason for her increasing shortness of breath. She'd asked if the woman had to keep from coming and he'd said no. So she was going to.
The thought aroused him and pumped more sensitivity into his penis than he thought was safe, but he glanced at the TV screen and tried to decide what was happening on it, and his sudden surge of head dissipated. Hell, he was still worked up, he thought, but not so much that he was going to shoot his load. Not yet anyway.
He rubbed Agnes' body, his hands seeking nerves that would add to her agitation and push her further toward her goal of orgasm, and she responded with a continued steady increase in tempo and eagerness. She was not only thrusting herself back and forth on him, stroking her clitoris on his pubic arch and herself on his buried penis, but she was twisting her shoulders in order to massage her breasts on his chest. And she was breathing harder; until now it was a light panting. Her fingers groped at Jason's sides and she nibbled at the flesh on his shoulder, making gentle whimpers of pleasure and desire.
Damndest sensation he'd ever had, he reflected. Being careful not to let his own excitement build-free of the roaring in his head and the haze in front of his eyes and the raging hunger in his balls-he could hear and see the little things and interpret Agnes' emotions by them. Sure, he made interpretations when he was going full bore himself, but they were of a different kind; they were to tell him how hot she was and what she could stand and how soon she'd explode. Here and now, letting her feel her way to her own orgasm, he could reflect on her more tender reactions and on the deeper emotions behind sheer lust for his cock. In a very real way he could come closer to understanding what drove the lonely woman he'd married and maybe decide whether she was getting over that loneliness.
Her whimpers grew louder and her movements more pronounced. Jason was certain that her skin temperature had risen; she felt as if she had a fever. And she turned her head from side to side, her hair flying and her lips brushing him. Suddenly she gasped. "Oh, honey! I'm going to! I am!" She grabbed his arms and thrust herself back, rearing like a delectable dragon before him. In the same motion she stiffened her legs and raised them, straight and with toes pointed like a diver's, and she rocked on the juncture of her own pubic arch with his.
Jason winced-the concentration of weight hurt like hell, he conceded slightly-and braced himself so he could thrust his hips upward to intensify her sense of suspension on their fusion point. Her eyes widened and she stared into his. She clenched her teeth, and cords stood out at the sides of her throat. Her breasts danced, the lower fullness swaying among the tips of the hair on his chest and the nipples jutting stiffly toward him. There were folds and deep creases across the small of her back, and her belly was taut and smooth, and her tightened buttocks were puckered with dimples. Her legs trembled violently, and her only motion was a deliberate rocking on her pubic arch. She held her breath while she came, and her face turned red and darkened to near-purple.
Jason felt the rolling contractions in her vagina in a way he'd not felt them before. The outer rim clamped fiercely, then felt to him as if it slid or rolled inward along the length of his penis. And by the time that wave of constriction had reached the head another wave had started at the base. Experienced under his present state of relative calmness it was a devastating sensation, and he knew that if she milked him like that for long he'd be surprised into an orgasm himself. But he forced himself to concentrate momentarily on the TV, and the urge died before overwhelming him.
Agnes blew her breath out with a shuddering sigh and slowly let herself relax from the taut bow she'd made of herself. Her legs lay on his again and she pressed her breasts against him and laid her cheek on his shoulder. And her fingers lay quietly on his arms.
He blanked out thought for a time in instinctive sympathy with her semi consciousness; then he began to assess his own reactions. His entire body was keenly sensitized, and the contours of her warm form were readily identifiable. He could sort out the sensory-signals and find the ones that described the soft ripeness of her heated breasts and those that informed him of the two harder lumps, which were her nipples. He could find those that measured the smoothness and pulsing of her belly and the ones that came from contact with her still-trembling thighs. Best of all, his penis was still hard and big and alive to the minute, spasmodic churnings of her relaxing vaginal walls. And the realization dawned on him that her labored breathing had quieted and slowed and become the gentle, regular breathing of sleep.
Sonovabitch! he thought with a thrill of achievement. I let her come on me and go to sleep and I still got a goddamn hard-on!
He rested his hands carefully on her back and watched TV, reminding himself of her antics with Harry and his own with Lee whenever he detected a tendency toward relaxation in his penis. There was one time when those topics failed to reverse the softening, and he tried to recapture the sequence of events with Agnes on the barstool. When he visualized the way she'd driven her bottom into the air while the sponge was whirling at the opening to her vagina, stiffness came back to his penis with a rush, and he even felt a sudden tightening of his buttocks and a stirring of his hips. There was a fleeting temptation to stroke his reawakened shaft in her, but he rejected it and contented himself with analyzing the sensations that he could isolate to the interior of that warm barrel of hers.
Funny how different it feels when someone's asleep on a guy than when she's awake, he mused. Awake, there's always some muscle tension holding the body in shape. In sleep there's a sagging that lets more of the body come in contact, and it makes it seem as if there's more weight.
Her hands slipped from his arms and lay limply on the chair cushion beside him, and when she stirred once her right leg fell away from the left and slid off his so her foot struck the floor. But the jar failed to wake her, and when her left leg started to slide in the same direction Jason raised his knee and nudged it the other way so that she lay astride his lap and settled more firmly onto his penis.
As time passed and the next TV show came on and dragged to its end, he felt as if Agnes were slipping downward and increasing the pressure on the base of his cock It was too slow a thing to let him feel the actual movement, but he was sure the force was greater than it had been, and from the way the shaft and head felt over swollen-with far more sensation of internal pressure than he could recall having experienced before-he suspected a vein or two might be constricted so the blood couldn't circulate through the rigid organ. He worried briefly about the hazard of gangrene, then reassured himself with the thought that the whole penis would likely go numb long before anything like that could develop. And it was damn well not numb! He could still feel random twitches and writhings through the shrunken walls of Agnes' vagina, and they served to help maintain hardness in him.
Some time later he felt himself jerk convulsively. It was the kind of thing a guy did in that state of half-sleep, half-wakefulness after he went to bed, he realized. Hell, he must have started to doze! His penis was almost fully soft and felt as if it had slipped most of the way out of Agnes. Panicked, he again relived the incidents of the barstool and pictured Agnes perched on Harry's cock, and his hard-on responded fiercely. Maybe sleepiness was another hazard the old Japanese cocksmen had faced, he thought wryly; and they sure hadn't done their training in an upholstered armchair where they couldn't shift positions!
The notion of shifting positions focused his attention on a cramp that was developing in his groin, and he squirmed. Agnes started and acted as if she were going to wake up, then snuggled, squirmed her hips, and slept again. Jason grinned.
If he woke her by moving she'd be awake, that was all. If he didn't then there was no harm in moving. He twisted and drew his knees toward him so that his feet were flat on the floor. And when that failed to disturb Agnes, he decided to risk moving her legs to a position that would reduce the growing pressure on the upper surface of his penis.
He twisted his upper torso to the side, cradling Agnes in his arm as she slid to the side, and reached down to clutch at her lower thigh. After a period of maneuvering, he bridged himself with his shoulders and feet and raised her far enough to pull her knee onto the seat cushion between his hip and the arm of the chair. Settling back, he slowly and cautiously moved her to the other side and repeated the process for her other leg. Pressing her knees back and scooting at the same time, he reached a somewhat more erect position without dislodging her from his hard-on; then she slumped sideward and lay in the angle of his left arm, apparently in deeper sleep than before the shift.
It was nearly an hour later when she again showed signs of awareness. She mumbled under her breath, and her hips began to undulate. And when Jason idly started to tweak one of her nipples she murmured phrases she never used except when they made love. He thrust upward with his hips and forced his penis deeper, and she moaned happily. Without opening her eyes she responded with affectionate thrusts of her own and became moist around the base of his cock. She'd waken herself is she kept that up, he thought. And he thrust upward again.
Agnes clamped her knees against his hips and bounced eagerly; then she opened her eyes.
"Jason! What-" She stared wildly about and drove her crotch against him, then brightened with an expression of awareness. "Oh, honey! I've been asleep!"
"Yeah. Feel good?"
"Ooh, like I've got a telephone pole in me!" She squirmed and plunged, stroking herself on his deeply embedded shaft. Then, "What time is it?"
"Twelve-thirty."
"Honey! Four hours! Did you stay in all the time?"
"Yeah."
"Was it fun? Even with me asleep, I mean?"
He chuckled. "Different as hell! Yeah, it was fun. Like to try it that long with you awake sometime, though."
"Like now?" Her eyes sparkled.
"Well, why not? Gotta have a cup of coffee. How about you?"
"Oh, no, honey! Please! You'll have to get out of me!"
"Hell with that!" He surged upward, clutching her to him with one hand at the small of her back.
She clasped his waist with her legs and clung to him with her arms while he carried her to the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee from the simmering pot. Setting the two cups on the table, he pulled out one of the chairs and turned. Holding his hands under Agnes' buttocks while she unwrapped her legs and spread them widely behind him, he lowered himself onto the chair and rested against its back. Agnes let her feet dangle to the floor and levered herself back and forth on his penis.
"Fun!" she exclaimed. "We've got to pay attention to each other when we're like this!"
He'd thought of that. He'd thought of it and wondered what kind of conversation they'd settle on-or if their mutual awareness over the hours would drive them toward an orgasm they couldn't escape. In such a condition of total intimacy it'd probably work that way, he guessed. He'd survived that first climax of hers because he'd been fresh and reasonable able to divert his attention. This time he had four hours of continuous insertion behind him, and his cock felt as thick as his forearm. It sensed every twitch of Agnes' guts and throbbed with every beat of her pulse. Even if she leaned against him for a kiss, he'd probably explode into a ferocious orgasm. But it was worth waiting out.
They finished their coffee and found themselves drifting back into the nonsense sort of exchanges they'd engaged in during their courtship, with self-conscious expressions of affection and spontaneous observations about each other and sudden bursts of carefree laughter. But under the recaptured freshness of romance there were the unexpected involuntary twitches of his penis and the answering contractions of the mouth of her vagina, and those events happened with increasing frequency until they found themselves actively pumping at each other.
Jason recognized the desire that had welled within him and thought of repressing it, then decided that for the first time with this game he'd done well enough; it was time to relieve the pressure that had accumulated. Agnes' eyes grew wide and gazed at him in alarm.
"Oh, honey! I'm sorry!"
"For what?"
"That I got excited! I didn't mean to!"
"We've gone long enough for the first time, baby. What the hell?"
"You're sure?"
"Right. Let's have at it!"
"Ooh ... I feel wild, honey!"
She slammed repeatedly against him, rising on her toes to let herself slide up his shaft, then flinging herself forward and down to drive it back up her barrel. Jason met her blows with his thrusts, battering her and feeling his balls jounce to the impacts. He staggered to his feet and laid her on the table, her buttocks on the edge, and tugged at her legs until she extended them up along his torso. Grasping her waist with both hands, he swept her back and forth on the tabletop, stroking her on his penis with powerful blows. She groaned and clutched his wrists and yielded to his control. Keeping her knees locked straight, she slowly separated her legs into a wide, deep vee, and her feet flogged the air while Jason continued to bounce her bottom against the joints of his hips.
At last she jerked her knees down to her chest and hugged them to her, closing her eyes and pleading for him to come.
Fire seemed to rage in his belly, and the knot at the root of his penis tightened and buzzed. A wave of heat rose to his head, and his thighs quivered and his hands dug into the flesh of her sides. Smashing her against himself, he held her there and squeezed his buttocks together. An overpowering contraction flattened his prostate gland, and semen gushed in a great, hot ball through his penis into Agnes. She whimpered and trembled while the jism kept squirting into her, and Jason grunted hoarsely with the violence of the eruption. At last the final contractions ceased and the tension began to leave his body. He shook and leaned against Agnes' buttocks, then bent over her to place his lips on hers. She clasped him in her arms and put her legs around his waist again, and while they still kissed he carried her toward the bedroom.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The week that followed was one of unbelievable adventure and discovery for Jason. Outside the city it was rutting season for many of the wild animals, he knew, and more than once he wondered if there was some streak of atavism in Agnes-if she had a hidden strain that was a throwback to the pre-humans that had first stumbled out of their wild lairs to band together and establish a proto-culture. Because she seemed always hungry for sex play.
Even in that period of lassitude that followed orgasm she begged silently for petting and caresses, and there seemed to be no time or place in the house or backyard that she wasn't ready to turn a warm glance or a chance touch into another love game. She became as fast at getting out of her clothes as a fireman was supposed to be at dressing, and she replaced her customary docile acceptance of his advances with aggressive initiative. When they made love she was as eager to fondle and caress him as to be fondled, and she climbed over him with a savage abandon that ignited his passions and drove him wild with excitement. She acted as if she welcomed the cameras, and she made no objection to his capturing their wildest sex play on film. She acted precisely like an animal in heat, and she showed no sign of the new behavior's diminishing.
But Jason rejected the throwback notion as fantasy. The truth, he decided, was either that she'd come suddenly to realize how much fun she was getting out of sex and had burst free of her inhibitions or that nothing she and Jason did in private could begin to rival that swap experience with the Minsks for sheer degradation. In the latter case, it would be easy to explain her actions by assuming that she felt anything was all right short of swapping. He recognized a third possibility; maybe she'd decided to gamble on this new approach to drive the swap idea out of his mind, hoping that he'd abandon swapping if she kept things hot enough at home.
And when he thought of that he had to chuckle, because he'd damn well never have given swapping a serious thought if she'd acted like this earlier. But just as surely, nothing she could do was going to erase the fact they'd swapped once, or keep it from happening again. He knew it could happen because it had, and he knew what a gut-wrenching stimulus it injected into a marriage. It was a taste that might not come naturally to everyone, but it was one that could be acquired, and Agnes was going to acquire it.
Saturday afternoon Harry telephoned and suggested to Jason that another evening of games might be fun. Jason agreed and arranged to be at the Minsks at eight. But he said nothing to Agnes about the invitation until the supper dishes were done. When she came out of the kitchen to find him in the den and started to unbutton her dress he stopped her.
"Hey, puss, I got a call from Harry this afternoon while you were at the hairdresser's. Forgot all about it. Asked us to come over tonight."
"Oh, Jason! He didn't!"
"Yeah. Sorry I didn't mention it earlier."
"Do we have to go?" she wailed.
"Well, he asked if we were going anywhere and I said no. I'd hate to call now and say we weren't coming."
"Oh, dear. All right, if you want to."
"Good girl."
She went to the bedroom to change and came back wearing a pair of pants from one of her new pants-suits and a severe, man-style shirt that tucked. She had to be under the impression that the outfit made her look non-sexy, Jason thought. But his mouth went dry as he surveyed her, the shirt accentuating the fullness of her breasts and the pants displaying the delicious curvature of her hips. She carried a light jacket and her purse, and he stood to hold the jacket while she got her arms into the sleeves. She set her purse in his easy chair and turned her back, sliding her hands into the armholes of the jacket and shrugging it on, then picked up the purse.
"I'm ready," she said in a very low voice.
When they reached the Minsks' house, Harry came out to greet them. In spite of her reluctance to come, Agnes couldn't hide the warm gladness in her voice. She'd liked Harry and Lee, Jason reflected, probably better than anyone else they knew. Most likely the swap the week before had strengthened her affection for Harry, no matter what her inhibitions about sex with him. And the struggle between embarrassment at seeing him now and that affection were obvious to Jason.
Inside, Lee met them with drinks, and Jason saw that Agnes was going to take refuge in her liquor. As soon as she'd exchanged greetings with Lee, she drained half the drink, and the moment she sat down in the living room she finished it. Lee gave Jason a startled glance and quietly took Agnes' glass.
"Refill, darling?" she asked.
Agnes nodded. "I need it, I think."
Jason dropped next to Agnes on the couch. "You okay, puss?" he whispered to her.
"Of course."
"Watch out for these drinks. They're potent." He searched her face for reaction, then added, "You'll be doing something you don't mean to." She gazed directly into his eyes. "Yes." Then she seized his hand and held it to her chest, pressing it into the valley between her breasts. "Are we going to make love with them again tonight, honey?"
"I ... Yeah, I want to."
She was silent for a long moment, but she shook herself and drew a shaky breath. "Maybe they'd rather have some kind of entertainment."
"Huh? Like what?"
"A ... a show of some kind. Maybe if we did a sort of skit ... like a slave and a sex fiend of a master. Like you did to me on the stool, only not quite so bad a position."
"Bondage-type thing?"
"Maybe they'd rather watch something like that."
"They might like that," he replied. Hell, he thought, they'd probably blow their minds at it! And once she got thoroughly worked up she wasn't going to care if it was Harry who put the dick to her!
Lee brought Agnes her second drink, then perched herself on one of the straight occasional chairs with her own. "Harry wanted to refill the ice trays," ' she observed. "He'll be right here."
During the desultory conversation between Lee and Agnes, Jason surveyed the room for suitable places to carry out Agnes' suggestion. If it hadn't been for this week's aggressive activity on her part, he reflected, this latest thing from her would've flipped him good! As it was, he guessed she'd lost some of her terror of exhibitionism and was more than willing to suffer that than to accept another swap session.
It was interesting how differently a guy saw a familiar room when he was looking with this kind of purpose, he thought. Agnes had mentioned the day before that the growing folio on her ought to include a series showing her in various bondage situations, and he'd started to evaluate their own place with that in mind. He noticed the same thing now that he had there-that the room took on a new perspective.
There were the piano and piano bench in the northwest comer of the room. In a prolonged and photographic session, they'd be musts for what Agnes had in mind. For tonight, he wasn't sure. The Minsks' living room was so much bigger than his and Agnes', he reminded himself, that it offered considerably more opportunity for variety in the department. But then, it was a different kind of house-all modem and fancy and designed for leisure living. Like the multilevel floor arrangement, for example. The dining room wasn't really a separate room at all, except that its floor was about two and a half feet higher than the living room floor. That and the wrought-iron grillwork were all that made the two rooms distinct areas from each other. In the final analysis, it was the grillwork that did it, though. They'd made it almost as substantial as they would have in a prison, only it was decorative with all its fancy scrollwork and curves and hooks.
Anyhow, he thought, there's the piano and bench in the comer to the right and back of us and the grillwork straight across at the other end of the room. And there's the couch here, facing the dining room and designed with a wrought-iron frame and a back cushion that comes off to convert the thing to a bed. And there're the two deep armchairs and the straight occasional chairs. There's the entry way over on the left and the floor-to-ceiling glass in the wall on the right and the broad coffee table in the center of the room. And that's it. Taking everything into account, the grillwork and the coffee table ought to be the most promising props.
Harry came through the dining room and joined them. Again Agnes gave away her fondness for him. She smiled up with a glad expression when he came in, and she came suddenly alive when he entered the conversation. It said things about the future of Jason's plans for their swapping activities; being so strongly attracted to the tall, bearded man, Agnes was going to have that adding pressure to her acceptance of shared sex, and it ought to accelerate the process.
"Been a good week?" Harry asked.
Jason nodded. "Outta sight, man."
"Yeah?"
Agnes laughed self-consciously. "A good one for Jason," she said. "He took up photography as a hobby."
"No! The old lens come alive for him?" Harry leaned forward.
"And all the other stuff," Agnes remarked. "Including his model. Nude."
"You, baby? Lucky bastard! I always said he was unconscious!"
"Not when he's doing that!" she exclaimed. "He gets excited about posing me. Carried away."
"Mixes the hobby with extra goodies?"
"You might say that. And I think he stays awake nights dreaming up ideas." She paused, then explained. "Sometimes we do a series of related shots-like a story line."
"Sounds like it has possibilities!" Harry's expression was animated and eager, and Jason suspected that the wheels had started to turn. Lee was about to find herself staring into the greedy eye of Harry's camera, more than likely.
"He's bought darkroom stuff," Agnes continued. "He's going to convert one of the bathrooms this week."
"Enlarger and the works?"
Jason chuckled. "The works, man! Rare stuff getting onto that film!"
"Yeah? Rare?"
"Rare," Agnes commented with a shiver. "Like sequences where I'm some kind of medieval prisoner. Brutal scenes."
"How brutal?"
"Oh, I don't mean hurting me. Just fracturing my dignity."
"Yeah? Because of overexposure." Harry touched his lips with the tip of his tongue.
"And then some. Like draping me over a barstool and turning me on."
"Ooh!" Harry grunted and winced, and Jason could see that the image his friend came up with was doing harsh things to his composure. "Wild!" Harry added.
Agnes went on, as if she sensed easy victory for her diversionary tactic and meant to press it before there could be any mention of swapping. "We ... would you like to see the kind of sequence? He was thinking out a new one on the way over here." With an absolutely straight face! thought Jason. Christ, she was smooth! And she was offering herself as a live exhibit as if she were talking about one of her paintings!
Harry exploded. "Hell, yes, we'd like to! Right, Lee?"
Lee sat as if entranced, her eyes shining and her lips parted. She wasn't touching her drink, but was staring intently at Agnes, glancing only occasionally at Jason and then with a speculative air. "Right on!" she exclaimed. "If it looks fun, can I try it, darling?"
"Better believe!" Harry laughed and leered at her. He looked back at Agnes. "How soon does the show start?"
She gulped the rest of her second drink. "Whenever Jason's ready."
"I'm ready," Jason said quickly. She made a damned accomplished liar, he thought. Hell, that bit on the stool was their only experiment with bondage, and here she was making like they'd tried a whole repertoire. But experience was likely a lot less important than willingness and imagination. Even imagination might not matter much. "I guess we'll have to borrow rope or something."
But Agnes had evidently been working things out for herself. She turned to Lee. "Old nylons if you've kept any."
Lee looked startled and got to her feet. "Sure ... just a minute." She hurried from the room.
It was time for a decision, Jason realized. And no one else was going to make it for him, unless Agnes did in the next few seconds. He was supposed to have come up with the new idea on the way over there; that meant he ought to have in mind where and how he was going to position Agnes, and when Lee got back with the stockings he'd better know. Once more he glanced around the room. He'd settle for the grillwork unless Agnes came up with something else in the next twenty seconds.
But she didn't, and Lee returned with a whole handful of nylon hose. Agnes drew a deep breath and stood, and Jason rose to stand beside her. He gave her clothes a quick thought, running his glance down her figure. He'd have to leave her legs free until he had her pants off, he decided. And her shirt could come off before he tied her arms. That wasn't vital, though, and he could see that her bra was a strapless, so he didn't have to worry about that. He took the nylons as Lee extended them to him.
Agnes turned to face him, her eyes big pools of blue innocence and her lips trembling from apprehension. "Where?" she whispered.
"The grill," he said.
She nodded slowly and crossed the room with him. Under her breath so only he could hear, she asked, "Want me to undress first?"
"No need," he replied gently.
When they reached the grill he had her turn her back to it, and she leaned against it, her hands clasped behind her bottom, and gazed nervously at Harry and Lee. She was scared as hell, Jason realized with a flash of insight. But she meant to take all he wanted to give-take it without protest in the hope that she could forestall intercourse with Harry. And he knew intuitively in that instant that she objected to swapping with Harry and Lee because she'd loved it when Harry screwed her and was afraid of letting a need get rooted in her, rather than because swapping was such a big deal in itself. There was that, too,, of course, but Jason was certain that the other was far bigger in her mind. He brushed the thought aside.
"Ready now?" he asked.
Agnes nodded and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jason studied the grill briefly and noted two scrollwork hooks that were about a foot above Agnes' head and a hand's width or two further apart than the width of her shoulders. He gently moved her to a point between them, then had her raise her hands and rest her wrists against the anchor spots, where he lashed them with stockings. He improvised the tying, putting a loop around the wrist and securing it, then tying the loose part of the stocking to the scrollwork, leaving an inch of play between scroll and wrist. Agnes would have less chance to hurt herself that way than if he simply bound each arm tightly to the metal, he judged.
He backed away to study her, feeling an aching hardness at his groin as the picture took shape. Being slender-waisted and big-chested, Agnes tapered beautifully under any circumstances, but with her arms extended upward as they were the taper was accentuated and her breasts thrust outward as bold, taut mounds. Her skirt was too tight for such a posture, and the sleeves had deep, arm-long folds that continued over her shoulders and ended at her nipples. Below her breasts, matching folds stretched tightly to the waistband of her pants, and the lower edge of her rib cage stood out as a bright, horizontal highlight. Her eyes were still shut; her long lashes rested on her cheeks, and her lips were slightly parted in a sensuous pout. Her upper abdomen caved in sharply below her ribs, but her lower belly had a pleasing fullness that made a man ache to caress it. And her hips swelled invitingly then tapered at the tops of her thighs.
He swallowed with a dry throat and went back to her, starting with the top button of her shirt and unfastening each one. The front of the shirt sprang open as each button was loosened from its buttonhole, and skin and nylon gleamed in the gap. When he pulled the shirttail out of her waistband, the shirt hung loosely at her sides, leaving her upper body exposed with only the bulging bra cups interrupting his view. He reached behind her and pulled the shirt through a shoulder-level opening in the grill, getting it out of the picture, then unhooked the bra fasteners and removed her bra.
Her breasts stood firm and globular, their undersides swelling where the cups had restrained them and the nipples filling and pointing. He beckoned silently to Harry and began to stroke Agnes' belly and caress her breasts. Harry joined him, standing at Agnes' other side and playing tenderly with her left nipple. Agnes sucked her breath through her teeth and squirmed while her shoulders pressed back against the grill and her hips twisted from side to side. Harry bent toward her and began to tease her nipple with his tongue, and her eyes flew open with startled pleasure. She flinched when she saw that it was Harry whose face was at her breast, but then she gave a low, pleased whimper. Coloring at her unexpected outburst, she shut her eyes again and rested her head against one unstretched arm.
Jason unzipped her pants and drew them carefully over her hips, leaving her panties undisturbed. For a moment, though, he was doubtful as to whether she'd worn panties; the waist of the outer pants slid slowly downward over her belly, exposing her navel and the swelling of her lower abdomen without revealing any other covering. But at that point where it would have uncovered her pubic hair he saw the top of the bikini-style panties, and when the outer pants cleared her hips he could see the whole wisp of a garment, golden strands of hair protruding around its scant edges and the denser mass of ringlets showing through the nylon mesh. She wore no stockings and the pants rustled as he slid them down her legs to bare the golden-tan flesh of her thighs. But when she stepped out of them he saw that she had on thick, woolly ankle socks. After a moment's indecision, he removed her shoes and socks and left her standing barefooted in the revealing bikini panties.
Both Harry and Jason stroked Agnes' sides and her belly and thighs, watching her muscles flinch in waves that followed their touch and breathing hard at the way her belly writhed. She worked her knees back and forth against each other and twisted her shoulders, her own breath escaping with explosive puffs and soft whimpers coming at irregular intervals. The white band across her breasts where she hadn't let the sun get to her skin seemed to fascinate Harry, and his hands kept straying back to cradle the generous mounds. There was a similar untanned band across her hips and lower belly, wider than the skimpy panties, and Jason fingered the flesh there. Agnes was responding fast to their light caresses, and Jason started to ease the panties over the fullness of her buttocks and hips.
The pubic hair sprang out stiffly as it was released, and when the panties went past her crotch onto her thighs there was a mound of pink flesh visible between the two swatches of hair that plunged inward at her crotch. Jason grinned and stiffened at the sight of a single gleaming droplet of fluid that appeared on the pink fold, but he slipped the panties down her legs without comment.
He stepped back again after she'd drawn her feet free of the filmy garment, and gazed hungrily at her and at Harry, who was completely preoccupied with the helpless woman. She was magnificent, Jason thought proudly. She could've posed for any of the heroic Greek statues and her flesh glowed with life and health. Every line suggested sex in this pose and every muscle-twitch screamed eagerness.
He shook as he went back to her, where he knelt at her feet and gently urged them apart. She clenched her teeth and pressed her chin against her chest as he thrust her legs apart, but she didn't resist. Jason tied a stocking around each of her ankles, then pulled her left foot still farther to the side and fastened the stocking to the grill. He repeated the procedure with her right foot, pulling it out to the side until her hip joints were taut and securing the stocking. With her legs so widely parted, her body had been lowered and her arms were tightly extended. The lines of her tendons were the vibrant lines of a stringed instrument, and they quivered as if they'd been plucked.
While Harry continued teasing her swaying globes, Jason caressed her belly and tousled the thatch at her groin. He probed at the inner sides of her thighs and drew tiny circles with his fingertips in the hollows that had formed between her thigh tendons and her crotch. And he drew his fingertips through the hair that sprouted from the outer slopes of her labia. She twisted her hips and ground her buttocks against the grillwork, then thrust her belly forward toward him, her weight suspended by her arms.
She moaned softly and pumped her hips backward and forward with a rhythm of her own. "Jason?" she whispered. "Jason, honey?"
He looked up into her face and saw that she was gazing down at him with an expression of mixed anguish and excitement. She beckoned with her head, indicating that she wanted to say something private. He stood and leaned close to her face.
"Honey," she continued to whisper. "I don't want to hurt Harry's feelings, but...." She stopped.
"But what, puss?"
"I just wanted you to play with me. Don't make him stop now, but ... well, don't let him put his hands down where you were. Please?" She paused and appeared to think, and Jason shifted his position as Harry moved his face to her other breast. She amended her plea. "Not yet anyhow. I couldn't stand it. Maybe when I'm more excited. Okay?"
"Okay, baby." He watched the gentleness with which Harry massaged her breast and sucked at the nipple; then he ran his hand down Agnes' belly and into her pubic hair. He rubbed her love mound with circular strokes, his fingers buried in the dense hair, and watched the overlying skin move with his movements, stretching behind his fingers and wrinkling ahead of them. Her hips were thrust forward and her knees were bent, while her arms were painfully taut. Her lower belly protruded and the pressure of her thrusting forced the floor of her navel to stick out in a dome-shaped swelling.
He slid his fingers around the curve of her mound to the thick-layered folds that flanked the mouth of her vagina, and the lips felt hot and swollen. The crevice between them gaped, filled with puffy, hairless tissues that felt slippery with their coating of the fluid that was welling from her opening. He stroked lightly in the ooze, the near-frictionless sliding contact making Agnes grunt sharply and jerk her hips back. But in a moment she thrust them forward again and rose to her toes to be able to push farther toward him. He worked at her tissues by feel, determined not to miss a single movement of her body, and he saw that her body was arched like a hard-drawn bow, with her hands and feet touching the grillwork and restrained by the taut stockings. Her back was deeply curved, so that her belly protruded into the room and the lines of her legs jutted steeply away from the wrought iron. He realized that when she became severely agitated she'd be able to lift either of her feet and close the angle of her thighs somewhat, because the nylons ran upward and out from her ankles due to the difference in floor level, but no such action could close the flesh over her crotch, and any movement would merely heighten the effective stimulus.
He pressed with his fingers and slid them inward between her steaming labia, the bulging inner slopes yielding like soft pulp to the entry. The floor of the trough was guarded by her minor labia, and those felt like stiffer, scalloped ridges lining the greater lips. But his fingers probed and the minor labia bent aside, and he stroked backward and forward along the pulsing membrane of the trough. When his caresses neared the crater of her vagina she flinched and jerked; and when it receded she thrust herself onto his hand again.
But he probed deeper and ran his fingers around the rim of the vaginal entry, and suddenly Agnes gave a deep moan of longing and jammed against his fingertips. He felt the rim wink as if to gulp his fingers in, and he forced one of them through it into her barrel. Her hips jerked violently and her belly jounced. He could see the tendons in her thighs shaking and the muscles of her calves bulging, and he squeezed the thigh muscles with his free hand, then ran it upward to clutch her snapping buttocks. Their muscular layers were so tightly contracted that the skin puckered over them, and the crack was closed with the strength of a sealed clamshell.
Her body was thrust far enough out from the grill that it was possible then for him to straddle her right thigh, and while he continued to massage her still-opening labia with his right hand he slid his left down the stubborn crack of her bottom and under her crotch. From the rear, her drove the fingers of that hand upward into her vagina, and as she sprang onto her toes at the abrupt invasion he slipped his other hand forward to her clitoris and began to roll it with his fingertips. She cried out hoarsely and slammed her hips backward, crushing his knee against the grill with her thigh, making the ironwork vibrate from the force of the blow. He maintained the light pressure of his touch on the tiny organ, massaging it with short, circular strokes, and twisted the fingers that groped inside her vaginal barrel. She lashed to and fro in a frenzy of passion, pleading and groaning ecstatically, and flung her body from one side to the other repeatedly.
Jason saw Harry abandon her breasts and press his mouth to hers, and he saw her throat working spasmodically as she answered the warm affection and vibrant desire of his lips. Harry's hand trailed at a leisurely pace down the hard drum-dome of her belly and through her luxuriant thatch, and Jason moved his own aside.
Harry peeled the hood back from the now-stiff clitoris and started to roll it beneath his fingers, and Agnes lashed forward with sharp lunges. Slowly, Jason withdrew his other hand and backed away from the couple, confident that his wife was excited enough not to care who was playing with her.
He felt arms close about him from behind and the soft swell of a small breast against his back, and he half-turned to pull Lee into his arms. He cupped one hand over one of her breasts and the other over the bulge of her mound, his fingers curling under and probing into the softness, and she wriggled her bottom against him.
"Jason, darling, would you tie me up, too?" she asked. "It looks terrible enough to be fun."
"If you want to," he said.
"Could you do it like you did to Agnes? ... With a barstool, I mean. She sounded like that was out of this world!"
"We could. Maybe we can make it more comfortable than that, though."
"But just as crude and just as awful?"
"Sure." Jesus, he thought. Turn a broad on and get past the inhibitions and she wants to go all the way!
Lee was wearing what the department stores chose to call a hostess gown. To Jason, it looked like a dress-up house robe with a row of buttons down the front, fastened with loops. It was fitted and slinky, but it was a robe, nonetheless. Now Lee stooped and began to unbutton it from the bottom. She quit when she reached the level of her crotch, and he caught a glimpse of her glossy black hair peeping through the gap.
"There's nothing underneath," she said with the air of a grade-school child telling another she sneaked out without pants.
He chuckled and reached between her thighs, fingering the soft flesh of her crotch and tugging playfully at a strand of hair. "That'll make it easier," he said with a grin. "Got any more nylons?"
"I brought out four pairs. There ought to be some."
"Oh. Okay, I guess the rest are in that armchair." He gestured toward the chair nearest the windows. "Come on."
She followed him, pausing beside the deeply cushioned chair. He studied her for a moment, then began unbuttoning her robe from the top. She stood quietly with her hands at her sides, her fingers nervously plucking at the material.
"Jason, I'm scared!"
"Thinking about not being able to protect yourself?"
"Yes! It's going to be horrible!"
"Then don't do it!"
"But that's what makes it so exciting! Just be sure you love me, Jason, darling."
"All right, baby."
When there were only four buttons still fastened, Lee placed her hands on his and held them still. "All of them, darling?"
"Sure."
"You're going to undress me right away? Naked?"
"I don't have to. We can start with the robe over if you like. But it'll be in the way."
"Not much in the way. Let's, darling."
He shrugged and grinned. "Okay. Then there's nothing else to wait for."
"Brrrr!" She shuddered. "What do I do now?"
"Like to get behind the chair?"
She did.
"Now, bend over it."
"Over the back?"
"Yeah."
"My hands in the seat?"
"Right. But we'd better finish unbuttoning first."
"All right." She let him unfasten the last four buttons and the robe fell open to expose the nakedness of her body.
Jason saw that she wore hose with the newly advertised "grip-tops", designed to eliminate the need for garter belts,, and he resolved not to remove them-or her high-heeled slippers. She bent obediently over the squared back of the chair and waited. Jason grasped her left wrist and pulled her arm over the arm of the chair and back, then raised her left knee and pulled it to the left so the inner side of her thigh pressed against the side of the chair back. With one of the nylon stockings, he lashed her wrist so that it was in the angle at the back of her knee. Quickly then, he repeated the procedure with her right leg and arm, and she hung on the thick block of upholstery with her thighs angled behind its upper comers and her lower legs thrust backward like trailing oars. Her bottom pointed toward the ceiling and her torso lay against the cushion, while the top of her head rested against the seat.
She spoke in a muffled voice. "Good God, Jason! It's obscene! My cunt must look like an open mine shaft!"
He gazed at the yawning opening and chuckled. "Yeah. Between two ridges covered with woods."
"Ooh! How awful!"
He laid his hand over the gaping flesh and rubbed it in circles, and she kicked her feet as if she were pedaling. As strained as her position was-and as conscious as she was of the grotesque picture she must make-she'd go up in flames if he made any real effort to stimulate her. But he wanted to wait; Agnes and Harry deserved the opportunity to share in that excitement. So he fingered her gently, arousing her enough to make her hips undulate and her legs chum but careful not to touch anything that would rocket her out of control. And he watched Harry and Agnes.
Harry had stripped, and he now straddled Agnes' thigh as Jason had done, his penis pressed tightly to her side, his hands groping and prodding at her crotch, and his face pushed onto one of her breasts. She writhed insanely, her body lashing from side to side and her head tilted back. Her eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling and her mouth was open, but the only, sounds she made were wordless moans and shuddering gasps. Harry raised his head and Jason could see the violence with which Agnes' ripe breasts leaped. There was no rhythm and no geometric pattern in their motion, simply a wild dance that combined vertical jouncing and horizontal swinging into a crazy swirl of giddy curves. He'd use that in their photography, he promised himself. In a darkened room with tiny lights attached to her nipples and the camera set for time exposure they'd get weird traceries against a nebulous figure of sex incarnate!
Harry was bathed with sweat and there was a glazed appearance to his eyes. He shuddered mightily and moved around to the front of Agnes' contorted body, laying his cock against her belly and placing his knees between her thighs. He crouched slowly, letting his penis rub downward through her pubic hair until the head cleared the lower curve of her mound and bobbed under her crotch. Then, using both hands to guide the rigid organ, he began to straighten. The head vanished immediately, and Agnes gave a glad cry; then the shaft slid upward and out of sight, and Harry continued to press upward with his flexed knees so that Agnes' feet were lifted from the floor. He caught her buttocks in his hands and pulled her hips away from the grill, letting her hang by her wrists and backing and straightening until her backward-stretched legs were snubbed by the taut nylons at her ankles.
His hips surged rapidly, and she bounced with the blows. But her hips continued to pump as well, and the arch in her back deepened until Jason was afraid that it would break. Her neck cords blurred with the tremor that washed over her, and her motion ceased except for a slow, residual grinding of her hips. She was milking the shaft of Harry's penis now, Jason thought, the contractions of her orgasm demanding of the intruder its treasure of sperm.
And Harry stopped lunging and strained her against his groin, his penis buried to its base and still hungry for greater penetration. The cheeks of his ass clenched and unclenched as he pumped his semen, and he shook violently, the muscles in the backs of his legs bulging with impossible tension.
Agnes collapsed first, her body sagging in the incredible arch and her head falling limply against her shoulder; then Harry bent forward abruptly, his buttocks clamping together in a last spasmodic contribution and going slack. He lowered Agnes and let her sag against the grill, her legs supporting none of her weight and her feet dragging loosely on the floor, and backed away, his penis pulling free and shriveling.
Jason gritted his teeth at the spectacle, sensing the intensity of excitement that the two had experienced and envying Harry for having used a position that Jason himself hadn't yet tried with Agnes. He cupped his hand and slipped all of his fingers into the cavity that Lee presented. When Harry and Agnes had recovered a measure of interest in their surroundings and joined him in Lee's build-up, he'd mount this upturned ass and ride it like a horse. If he could wait, he thought.
CHAPTER NINE
Harry recovered first. He left Agnes hanging against the grill and came to study Lee's position, then stared open-mouthed at Jason.
"Jesus, man! Was the barstool like that?"
"Sort of." Jason extracted his hand from Lee's vagina and moved back to give Harry an unobstructed view.
Harry whistled softly. "Whew! Opens up her twat enough to shove a baseball bat in! Sonovabitch!" The exhaustion that had remained in the aftermath of his orgasm fled and he caressed Lee's upthrust buttocks and the backs of her taut thighs.
She squirmed and he drew his hand across her widespread labia. At her convulsive jerk, he smiled and touched her anus, his eyes gleaming at the violent upheaval. His voice sounded reverent as he said, "Gawd damn! A guy could do anything he damn well wanted to!"
Jason nodded, feeling gooseflesh rise on his skin at the implications of Harry's remark. He'd hate to have Agnes tied up and in Harry's care unless he himself was around, he thought. A woman just might take a hell of a rough going-over if Harry got overenthusiastic!
But there was a stirring at the grill and Harry whirled and leaped to Agnes' side. He loosened the knots that held her and supported her while she worked life back into her body. Her eyes widened in an incredulous stare when she comprehended Lee's position, and she gasped sharply.
"God, hon!" she said to Jason. "That's as good as the stool! If only you had the stirrer!"
Harry looked puzzled. "Stirrer?" Then he began to grin. "I don't know about stirrers, but we've got a heavy-duty vibrator! I'll get it!" He raced from the room and returned moments later with a gleaming, round-ended cylinder that had a penis-sized, dome-tipped shaft protruding from one end.
Jason stared respectfully at the device while Harry plugged its cord into an electrical receptacle, and he watched Harry set a control knob and actuate the switch. There was a deep hum and the bright metal blurred. Harry extended it toward Jason.
"Feel, man!"
Jason touched the vibrator and a buzzing shock of excitement shot through his arm.
"Wild, man! Wild!" he exclaimed.
"Take it."
Jason grasped the fat part of the cylinder in his hand and beckoned to Agnes. She came to him hesitantly, and he raised the tip to her breast. She clenched her fists and held her ground while he probed and rubbed the great mound. And when he lightly touched it to her nipple she seized his arm and uttered an animal wail of pleasure. Jason pulled the vibrator back and lowered it, slipping the shaft between her thighs and working it upward until it pressed against the tissues of her crotch. Her hips flogged forward instantly, and she rose to the balls of her feet, her head thrown back in a paroxysm of ecstatic delight. But in a moment she thrust his hand and the vibrator away.
"You'll make me come again!" she panted. "Use it on Lee!"
Jason turned toward the up-ended, helpless woman and ran the shaft slowly and lightly up the back of her left thigh. Lee screamed and bucked, and he applied the device to the back of her right thigh. For a time he experimented with pressure and position of the mechanism on different parts of her body, avoiding her crotch. He reached down to her chest and pressed the tip to the bulging side of her breast, and she twisted and moaned; then he ran it slowly along her side to her hip. Resting the butt end against her ass, he moved it over both cheeks and into the flattened valley between them, letting it rest on her anus.
She bounced and lashed, moaning in a loud, undulating voice, her hips thrusting as if to drive her upward to engulf the metal. Then he reversed it and let the shaft sink into her vagina. Her thrusts slowed and struck a steady, powerful rhythm, and the pitch of her moaning deepened. Jason knew that she'd come if he left the probe in her, but it would be a slow, unspectacular orgasm. He owed it to Agnes to arouse the same kind of violence that she'd displayed on the stool. And he had no intention of letting the vibrator replace his penis in the final action.
He pulled the shaft out of her and slid it back and forth in the trough, then worked it toward her clitoris. As if she knew what he was going to do, she tensed and quieted. And when the tip reached her clitoris and settled against it, she shrieked and flung her bottom into the air. Her thighs sprang to an angle that Jason would've thought would disjoint her, and her lower torso levered outward from the support to stand vertically, her bottom rotating in great circles in the air.
Vaguely, Jason was aware of Agnes' excited shouting, and it came to him that she was telling Harry that was the effect she'd wanted him to see. And he sensed rather than saw Harry's close scrutiny of Lee's writhing genitalia.
But Lee's agitation was working its way into Jason's state of mind, and his own excitement had reached an explosive level. He withdrew the vibrator reluctantly and handed it to Harry, then pulled Lee back into her original position and grasped his penis with his hand. Laying the head against her yawning vaginal opening, he hesitated. He'd had a nebulous vision of riding the pixie-like girl, and this wasn't the way. A flash of inspiration came, and he grinned jubilantly and went around the chair. He climbed onto the seat, standing and turning his back to Lee's inverted form, then spread his feet and squatted, moving his hips backward until his testicles touched her crotch. With his hand again, he bent his aching penis downward and drove the head into her vagina. Then he lowered himself until her thighs supported his and his penis was fully buried in the voracious cavity. He bounced on her, and his shaft alternately rose and plunged deep within her. She surged beneath him, her buttocks writhing and the flesh on her back rippling wildly. He seized two great handfuls of the mounded flesh of her buttocks and pounded himself on her.
Suddenly he felt an intolerably exciting buzzing between his own buttocks, then a breathtaking, vibrating pressure at his rectum. He yelled as he sensed the slippery wetness of the instrument that probed his anus, but before he could struggle there was an agonizing stretching and distension, and a monstrous bulk filled his ass. His head roared inwardly and his vision fogged. The heat that surrounded his buried cock blended with the incredible thrill that radiated through him from the probe in his rectum, and he knew he was powerless to protest. But a new vibration reached him through the hardness of Lee's pelvic arch, and he realized that Harry had pressed the butt of the vibrator against her, covering her clitoris with it and driving it against her pelvis.
Lee flung herself into the air again, and Jason rode with her, bouncing and twisting, unable to comprehend fully the fantastic duality of screwing and being screwed simultaneously. He felt a vicious contraction in his gut and a searing eruption of semen through his penis. His orgasm built instead of peaking and fading, and he crumpled in an agony of sensation, doubling at the hips and clutching at Lee's thrashing torso.
But the fiendish mechanical cock was withdrawn from his ass at last and he could slip from his artificially sustained climax into a shadowy region of semiconscious quiet. He felt Lee go limp under him at the same time, and for the moment he was unable to move or to think. Only gradually did his post-orgasmic numbness wear off so that he could stiffly dismount. And his fingers fumbled for what seemed an eternity before they could loosen the lashings from Lee's arms and legs.
When she was free, he lifted her from the chair into his arms, and she pressed her face into the hollow of his neck. "I don't know what happened, Jason," she mumbled. "Nothing I ever had before!"
He crooned to her. "Or me, baby! Ever before or ever again! That was too much!"
"Mmm! Everyone ought to get too much, once."
CHAPTER TEN
Harry suggested a community shower, and even Agnes giggled and seconded the idea. They all trooped into the master bath, where Jason saw the Minsks' shower for the first time. It was really an enormous sunken bath with a shower head in the wall, but the nozzle was adjustable-Harry claimed-for a wide enough spray to cover the entire area. There was nothing to do but try it, and the four of them stepped down into it after the water had reached the right temperature.
It was both renovating and relaxing, driving off leftover aches and tensions and reviving the light spirit of adventure that so delighted Jason. And with the fine spray and the mountains of suds, no one bothered to touch himself; hands found other bodies and probed and mauled irreverently. The greatest titillation came for Jason from getting one hand on one of Agnes' heroic breasts and the other on one of the delicately molded mounds that Lee bore so proudly. The contrast made him tingle all over.
And they finally had to concede that they were as clean as they were going to get and a bit too excited for safety on the slippery tile. They toweled each other and tumbled onto the king-sized bed that dominated the bedroom. Their bodies rolled about and they tangled legs and arms indiscriminately, until passions boiled and flesh cried out for gratification.
Without conscious agreement or planning, they settled into an interlocked foursome. Jason became aware that he and Harry were lying on their backs parallel to each other but with their bodies pointing in opposite directions and their heads roughly opposite each other's hips, with about an arm's length of distance separating them. Agnes lay with one leg extended beyond Jason's head and the other doubled on his chest. She had an arm under the small of Harry's back, and her other hand cradled his testicles as her lips caressed the head of his penis. Lee had impaled herself on Jason's throbbing hard-on, one leg stretched across his body and the other doubled under one of his thighs. She bent forward, leaning over Harry's face, her breast in his mouth and his head cuddled in her arms.
There was a heady sense of sharing in the interlocked network, but Jason sucked at Agnes' clitoris with the certainty that there was too much strain in the positions to permit any of them to come. Still, Lee was becoming highly agitated, and she surged up and down on his penis with a steadily increasing violence. He strained to watch her over Agnes' thigh, aroused by the perspective.
The far cheek of her bottom was full and taut because of the way her leg was doubled, and it bounced rapidly. The swell of her ass tapered abruptly to her waist, and the thickness of her chest was enhanced by the cone-shaped protrusion of her breasts. Her hair fell forward over her face, and her arms looked slim and feminine. But the predominant impression was one of lust and abandon as she heaved upon him, and the sounds that she made were those of primitive desire.
But Harry stirred restlessly, and to Jason the sound of his friend's movements didn't have the quality that should've come from the excitement of Agnes' attentions to his penis. It was probably the same vague dissatisfaction that troubled him, Jason decided. And he stroked Agnes' thighs tenderly while he continued to chew at her spongy tissues.
Suddenly Lee's antics redoubled in vigor and she moaned loudly. "What's wrong with me! Oh, damnit, Harry! I'm going to come!"
Her groin pounded against Jason and ground down on it with a heavy, rotating pressure, and he felt the inner convulsion of her vaginal walls the way he had the night he'd tried to see how long he could remain in Agnes. The smaller woman's body shook and she twisted slowly from side to side, then subsided in a sprawling heap.
Harry caressed her and murmured unintelligible messages of comfort, and her shaking stopped.
"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I didn't mean to get an extra one."
"Christ! Who's counting?" Jason demanded, momentarily moving his mouth away from the sweet-flavored flesh of Agnes' crotch. "Everybody's got something going!"
"I know," she said. "And I'll come alive in a few minutes." She slowly extricated herself and rolled away from the rest of them, curling on her side to watch.
Without Lee to occupy his attention, Harry twisted himself around and began to massage Agnes, his hands passing Jason's as he sought the centers where her responses could be amplified. At length, he raised her face from his penis and turned around to kiss her. She slipped an arm around his shoulders and placed her other hand at the back of his neck and rocked her head, her mouth flattened against his.
With both men devoting their entire energies to her, she was now thoroughly inflamed, and she twisted her body in an unceasing pattern of hunger. Harry surged to his knees and lifted her off Jason's mouth, turning her and supporting her hips until she brought her knees forward to hold herself up. Jason waited to see what Harry intended to do and was startled when Agnes seized his penis in her hand, clinging tightly to it while Harry moved around to crouch on his knees between her feet. Harry's penis dipped into her wet vagina and came out and dipped again, and she thrust her bottom up and back eagerly. She dropped to her elbows and twisted to where she could suck at the tip of Jason's penis, her fingers loosening and toying with the shaft.
Jason, craning his neck, saw Harry's penis withdraw again, then settle its snub nose against her anus. She flinched and gasped, but Harry gripped her hips firmly, holding them motionless while he leaned on the rigid shaft of his cock. The head darkened under the force, and Agnes' buttocks clamped together around it, squeezing it and appearing to block its entry, but it slowly worked deeper between them; then they relaxed and the floor of their valley was visible, driven inward and stretched cruelly. The stretching that tugged at the skin over the inner surfaces of her buttocks eased gradually, and suddenly the pink membrane of her anus showed in a circlet around the brutal bulb. More quickly, then, the rest of the head wedged in, until the flared shoulders of Harry's penis popped from sight and his shaft rushed after it. With a final smooth lunge, he drove his cock home.
She groaned hollowly and settled back on the matted cushion of his pubic hair, and she drew the head of Jason's penis into her mouth and sucked desperately. With one hand she stroked Jason's shaft; then she grabbed with both hands and pounded as if she were masturbating it for him. But her tongue lapped at the engorged head and her lips clamped tightly behind it, gulping at the upper end of the shaft. Jason's hands kneaded her body, and he saw Harry swing one knee forward outside Agnes' thigh, then the other, and the bearded man clutched at her waist and swept her against himself repeatedly. Again and again, Harry pressed her forward, letting her taut membrane slip along his shaft to the rear of the head, then jerked her back so the shaft plunged into her to its roots.
Lee moved from her vantage point, turning on her back and forcing her head under Agnes' breasts. She massaged one of them with both hands, and Agnes acknowledged the new stimulus by squirming and pressing it lower, and Lee took the other nipple between her lips and began to suck at it.
Harry's rhythm dominated the activity, with Agnes growing rapidly more agitated and gulping harder at Jason's penis and Lee squirming at the increasing bounce of Agnes' breasts. Harry's thighs tightened against Agnes' and his calves clamped just above her knees. He raised one foot and hooked its instep over the calf of her leg, then hooked the other one over her other leg. Pivoting his legs on his knees, he forced hers apart, spreading her thighs and lowering her bottom, his weight riding on the root of his penis as he raised his knees from the bed.
Agnes drove her face down, letting the tip of Jason's penis slide to the back of her tongue, and her teeth pressed against the shaft. She swung her buttocks from one side to the other and strained to straighten her legs, but Harry's feet trapped her knees, and he seized her wrists and pulled them behind her back, pressing down so her breasts flattened against Lee. Helpless, Agnes surged and bucked, but Harry rode her relentlessly, his cock firmly embedded and staying all the way in. Jason watched closely to guard against her strangling on the head of his own penis, and he wondered if Lee was in danger of suffocating under the great globes, but he saw the smaller woman's fingers continuing to knead the bulging flesh and knew that she was all right.
At last, Agnes wrenched her head to the side, releasing Jason's bruised cock, and she let her forehead drop to his thigh. At the change in position, Harry removed his feet from behind her knees and planted them on the bed. He struggled for balance and slowly rose to his feet, lifting Agnes by the waist, her bottom still crushed against his belly. She thrust her hands against the bed, relieving the strain of his grip, and the muscles of her back stretched and corded. Her breasts hung toward her face and her nipples swayed violently as Harry began to pump against her.
She cried out hoarsely and stiffened, bracing the backs of her legs against the fronts of Harry's and starting to buck again. But the sudden strain in her face was clear evidence to Jason that she was on the verge of orgasm, and when the frantic bucking stopped and she seemed to curl in upon herself, he knew her contractions had hit her. Harry grunted explosively and slammed his hips forward, driving himself harder against her and holding her tighter. They surged slowly while their climax ran its course; then Harry lowered himself and his captive to the bed. She straightened under him, and he lay on her upthrust bottom, his penis still fully buried in her.
Lee crept onto Jason, straddling his hips. "Can you come now, darling?" she asked.
"Damn right!"
"Okay." She raised his hard-on to the vertical and squirmed until the mouth of her vagina was caressing it. Then she dropped, engulfing it in a single, terrifying rush. She placed her feet on his chest, then grasped her knees with her hands and pulled at them, sliding her feet back until her heels touched her buttocks. She hunched there, impaled on his penis, her arms hugging her knees to her breasts. Jason thrust experimentally, feeling a minute stroking of his hard-on in her, then repeated the thrust with greater force. He placed his hands on the outer sides of her thighs and steadied her while he bounced her with the rapid jerks of his hips. And when he felt the harsh knot gathering in his gut, Lee squirmed and stopped him.
"Wait, darling," she said. "Not yet."
"Huh? What's wrong?"
"You're almost there, aren't you?"
"Hell, yes!"
"Let's go back to the living room."
"How come?"
"Please?" she pleaded.
Jason sighed and let her push herself off his raging penis, and he left the bed with her and returned to the living room. She paused in the center of the room and gazed about it.
"What the hell?" Jason asked, puzzled.
"I want to be tied some more. Different ways. Okay?"
His irritation vanished and he nodded. "Right on!"
"Just to see what it's like," she murmured. "Like I say, at the start?"
"I guess so."
"I'd like to try the grillwork-upside down."
"Upside down, for Christ's sake?"
"Just once. Please?"
"Well, we can try."
He wrapped Agnes' wool socks around Lee's ankles, then doubled two of the nylon stockings and tied secure loops around each sock-padded spot. Thoughtfully, he tied another loop in the free end of each of the stockings and gathered Lee in his arms. He hoisted her so that her thighs lay on his shoulders, straddling his neck, and she hung with her face against his belly. And he crossed to the grill, studying its pattern again.
Reaching it, he had her raise her left leg, her knee partly bent, and he dropped the stocking loop over a scroll hook that was as high as he could reach. Moving to his left, he had her raise her other leg. He clasped her to him with his arm across the small of her back and reached up with the other hand to hang the second loop to a hook three feet from the first. Slowly then, he lowered her until she hung by her ankles, her legs boldly parted.
With an effort, she held her hands at her sides, but Jason quickly tied a stocking to each wrist and drew her arms down and tied them to the grill so she was spreadeagled.
"OOH! Ooh, Jason! I could almost come this way!"
"So could I, just looking at you!"
No other position had made the inside set of tendons in her thighs stand out so sharply. None had made the hollows between her thighs and the flesh of her crotch quite so deep. Her belly dipped inward so sharply that her hipbones seemed to suspend empty skin. Her ribs curved in bold relief and her breasts looked as if they'd grown inverted. And there were bulges in her armpits where her shoulder joints protruded under the thin layer of flesh. He rubbed his hands over her and watched her writhe; then he leaned forward to suck on her clitoris and caress its tip with his tongue. She flexed her knees, making her bottom sway out from the ironwork, then drop back to it, and she twisted slowly. Her vagina stood open as it had on the chair, and he could see the shadowy folds inside it writhing with gentle contractions.
But he could also glance up and see that her feet were losing their color, and he stepped back and saw the deep flush in her face and the skin of her chest. Hell, there was no percentage in leaving her there when it might kill her, he decided. And from the sluggish way she was responding, she might already be losing her awareness!
He jerked the knots out of the stockings that bound her wrists and caught her to him, stretching to lift a loop off its hook and disengaging the other.
Carrying her to the couch, he laid her gently on it. She gazed silently up at him and struggled for breath. Finally she could talk. "Oh, thank you, darling!" she whispered. "I couldn't breathe! It was like everything in me was squashing my lungs!"
"You okay now?"
"I'll be okay. I'm dizzy, but it's going away."
He massaged her arms and her legs, and her weakness appeared to fade. At last she pushed herself up and clasped her arms around him, feeling for his mouth with her lips. After their kiss she leaned back and stared into his eyes.
"I was so scared, Jason! God, I thought I was going to die right there! That was terrible!"
"Hell, I should have known better."
She shook her head. "It was wild, right at first. Ooh, what a way to come! But I started to black out as soon as I moved. I guess that's not my thing."
"What is your thing, baby?"
"Sex, man! But I guess not that way. It's always been sex, though."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was after two in the morning when Agnes and Jason dressed and left. Jason drove by instinct, fighting fatigue, and blinking to see the road. Agnes sagged in the seat beside him, her head on his shoulder and one hand resting on his leg.
"I'm glad," she said drowsily.
"Glad what?" he asked.
"That we're going home."
"Yeah. Home's good."
"Honey?"
"Hmm?"
"Have fun tonight?"
"Crazy, baby! It was something else!"
"You glad it turned out to be swap?"
"I like swap. Makes me think about you more."
"Does it really?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Maybe it's like why it feels so good when you stop banging your head against a wall."
"But that's because banging your head hurts!"
"So does watching Harry fuck you! Twists my guts! But that yanks a string in my pecker and keeps it hard every time I think about it."
"Know what?"
"What?"
She sighed. "I hate Lee when you're making love to her. I love her the rest of the time."
"That's all part of a big, tangled bundle, puss. It's what swapping's all about."
"I still don't like it. I shrivel up every time I know Harry's going to put it in me."
"But he makes you come."
She sighed louder. "I can't help coming, honey! I'm just made that way!" It was almost a wail. "But inside, I want it to be you!"
"It's me most of the time."
She nodded and snuggled, then fumbled in his lap with her hand. She found the softness that was his penis and squeezed it. With a long look into his shadowed face, she unzipped his trousers and thrust her hand inside.
"Hey! What the hell, puss!"
"Mmm!" She closed her hand around the limp organ and pulled it into the open.
He gripped the steering wheel more tightly and stared fixedly at the road. But her head left his shoulder and she slid away from him, sprawling on the seat, then kneeling on the floor, her head in his lap. She laid his penis back against his trousers and touched the soft underside with her tongue.
"You taste like sex," she said.
"Hell, I ought to!"
"I like it." She was quiet for a time, nibbling carefully with her teeth; then she added, "I didn't get to finish when we ... when Harry ... Brrrr!"
"Yeah, that was brutal. Was it good?"
"God, I came hard! But I didn't get to finish with you."
"No."
She began to nibble again; then she took the shrunken head in her mouth and caressed it with her tongue. Jason felt a sharp tingle in the shaft and a jolt in his gut, and his penis began to stiffen. Agnes seemed to feel the change as soon as he was aware of it, because she gave a hard suck and tugged at the shaft with her hand. In another moment, his hard-on was as full and rigid as it had been all night, and he caught himself forgetting to drive.
But the next curve was the last before they'd reached home. He was going to make it. Besides, he wasn't sleepy now!
She let the head go and nibbled again, delicately tracing patterns over the head with a fingernail. Her touch sent thrills through him in rapid succession, and he squirmed. Braking almost too late, he wheeled the car into the drive and brought it to a stop. When he killed the engine, Agnes clutched his thighs.
"Not yet, honey," she said.
"Not yet what?"
"Let's not go in yet."
"Well..., okay."
He slumped, putting his back against the door, and she started licking the bulb at the top of his shaft. There was faint light coming from somewhere, and he could watch the movements of her head, its blonde hair defining its shape clearly.
She licked industriously and deliberately, and he felt his excitement rocketing. Then she thrust her open mouth down over the tool again.
This time she drove down hard, and the head slid immediately to the back of her throat. She tilted the penis toward her and flattened herself, her head tilted so her face was forward and her throat was tautly extended. And she appeared to push her entire body forward. To Jason's shocked amazement, tight walls closed about the head of his cock and Agnes' lips worked their way gradually down the shaft. She kept pushing and sucking and gulping, and his shaft entered her mouth fractions of an inch at a time.
It had to be going somewhere, he thought wildly. Jesus, his whole cock was going to disappear into that hungry mouth! He clenched his fists and twisted his hips to ease the angle the shaft made with his groin, and Agnes twitched her shoulders and shoved harder. She sucked vigorously while she pushed, and he felt the root of j her tongue pressing like a hard ridge against his shaft. Still the shaft continued to enter the warmth inside her mouth, and her teeth continued to scrape closer to the base. Then her fingers pulled his fly open, paused, fumbled at the catch at the waistband and unfastened it, and spread the fly widely. She pressed her nose into the stiff mass of his pubic hair, and her lips pressed around the root of his cock, working slowly as they did when she kissed him.
Her sucking grew harder, and she swallowed, the peristaltic contraction wave traveling from the back of her mouth along her throat toward the tip of his penis and past it. A slow fire seemed to bum in his gut, and his hands clutched at her back, digging at the flesh and kneading it. She continued to suck and to swallow, and each swallow was a unique sensation that intensified the heat that filled him and tightened the fist within his belly that was closing over his prostate.
Slowly and cautiously then, she eased one knee onto the seat, then the other, and she rose on her knees, her face still buried in his pubic hair and her mouth and throat still aligned. Jason reached across and unzipped her pants, pushing them over the roundness of her buttocks and down over her thighs. Squirming carefully, she pushed them off her legs, and Jason felt her naked bottom and knew that she'd left her panties off. He stretched and slid his fingers down the crevice of her bottom to the wetness of her crotch. Grasping it firmly, he' pulled upward, and she rose, bracing her feet, until he could work one of her legs over the back of the seat. With that leverage, she lifted the other; and she hung there, her face pressed downward by her weight, while he thrust his fingers into her and centered his thumb on her clitoris. He rubbed briskly and she swallowed more often and sucked harder.
Her hips undulated and she flailed the air over the back seat with her feet, twisting her body and wrenching at his cock. He increased the pressure of his thumb and its speed, and she grew increasingly frantic. But throughout her building excitement, she sucked and gnawed and swallowed, and the sensations in his penis got more urgent. His belly writhed and his breath came in huge sobs, and he knew that he was going to pump her throat full of semen. He warned her and she sucked faster. The knot in the core of his belly snapped taut and slammed at his prostate. Semen gushed through his penis and jetted down her throat and her swallowing reached a frenzied peak. But each time she swallowed she triggered another spurt of his semen, until he was certain he was totally drained.
He realized in the throes of his orgasm that his hand now held her hips clear of the back of the seat and that her heels were drumming against the ceiling of the car. She jerked herself forward and back and shuddered and began to come. After a long time her contortions ceased and she sagged on his hand, spent. He felt the hardness fading in his penis and the familiar shrinking process setting in. As the shriveling organ withdrew from her throat, she weakly raised her head, but when her mouth was once more empty, she carefully licked the last remnants of his eruption from the head and swallowed them.
When she turned away from his penis he helped her right herself and drew her into his arms. "I liked that, puss," he said softly. "Thanks."
"I liked it, too, honey." Her voice was hoarse and low, but it rang with devotion. I do love you terribly."
"That's what makes me groove, baby. That's the whole scene."
CHAPTER TWELVE
In spite of an aching throat the next day, Agnes was smugly proud of the feat of getting Jason's entire penis inside her mouth in its fully erect state. And she seemed to have found the inner strength to be able to talk frankly and happily about their sex games. As she demonstrated during supper, she had even reached the stage where she was eager to plan their further adventures, and in detail. She brought up the subject of Jason's photography, contrite about misleading Harry and Lee with her claims of the night before.
"But you would like to put together bondage sequences, wouldn't you?" she remarked.
Jason agreed, his groin tight. "Hell, yes, baby!"
"When's the enlarger supposed to be in?"
"Tomorrow, they said."
"Jason, where did the Minsks get that vibrator?"
"Same place. Harry says it's a stock item."
"Ooh! You think we could get one?"
He grinned wolfishly. "Try to stop me."
Maybe we could shoot some poses tonight," she murmured, changing the subject.
"Like what?"
"With me tied up."
"Yeah, but how?"
"Oh. Well, we've got tables and chairs and the bar-we haven't done everything on it we could-and the bed and the couch and-"
"Hey! Hold it! We can only do a few at a time, baby."
"We could start in the living room. There's a lot we can do with the bar."
If the bar intrigued her, then they'd damn well start there, he thought. She could fit on it in plenty of poses, especially with the help of ropes properly applied. And that was what she was talking about. But one other sequence had occurred to him that kept pushing everything else aside, and they'd have to do it first.
"You go ahead and get undressed and get the ropes together while I get something else ready," he said.
She peered cautiously at him for a moment, but then she nodded and left the table. Jason went to the garage and searched until he found the Navy duffel bag he'd bought from surplus three years before. At the time, he'd thought it would be useful for something or other, he recalled, but the only thing he'd ever gotten to use it for was storing the extra carpeting left over from pattern matching when they'd had the house carpeted. The installers had been kind enough to roll the remnants on a two-by-four for him, and they'd managed to squeeze the duffel bag over the roll after he'd cut a hole in the bottom for the projecting stud.
Now he shouldered the heavy roll and took it into the house. He got out the ironing board and set it up six feet from the bar, then laid one end of the two-by-four on the bar top and the other on the ironing board. And he used sash cord from a kitchen drawer to lash the two-by-four down to prevent its turning.
Agnes came out of the hallway naked and with a half-dozen short lengths of quarter-inch nylon rope. She stared dubiously at the massive cylinder he'd rigged, but she handed him the ropes without comment.
"All ready, baby?" he asked.
She smiled and colored faintly. "All ready."
She let him pick her up and set her astride the duffel bag, and she watched curiously while he rocked it to be sure it was secure. He pulled her feet together under the bag, crossing her ankles with some difficulty, and lashed them together. Then he straightened and pressed her forward, making her lie on her belly, and tied her wrists together so she hugged the bag.
He positioned the tripod and began photographing her, shifting viewpoints after each exposure. But he wanted more than repose to register, and he began to caress her. Soon she responded with strong humping and squirming, and he worked a medium-diameter potato masher into her vagina. She groaned and raised her bottom, clamping her knees convulsively against the bag, and he took more exposures.
But he removed the kitchen penis and untied her before she could grow too excited to control her desire. Helping her off he set her on her feet.
"Make love to me on that thing sometime!" she said, panting.
"That'd be great!" he agreed. He removed it and laid it at the side of the room, then set the ironing board out of the way. "How about the bar now?" he asked.
"I'd like to." She went to the bar and clambered onto a stool, where she knelt and gingerly worked herself onto the bar top, her head and shoulders over the rear working surface and her bottom projecting into the room. Her legs hung toward the foot rail, but they were more than a foot above it. "Tie my feet so I don't slip off this side," she said.
Grinning at the position she'd selected, Jason tied one of the pieces of rope to each of her ankles, then secured each rope of the foot rail, spreading her legs at the maximum angle her hips would allow. Going behind the bar, he secured ropes on her wrists and pulled at her arms until the fronts of her thighs against the front of the bar top stopped her. Her breasts hung over the work surface, and Jason ran the wrist ropes to uprights in the cupboard on the wall behind the bar area, spreading them as he had her legs and securing the ropes more than two feet above bar top level, so that Agnes was stretched into a swan-dive pose from the hips up. She panted and strained at once, but her eyes sparkled and she crooned when he began to fondle her breasts.
He climbed onto the bar himself, straddling the small of her back and reaching under her to massage her breasts. And he turned around and felt her labia, then parted them and worked his fingers in circles along the rim of her vaginal entry. He scooped the fluid she'd begun to ooze back and smeared it on her anus, thrilling to her sudden thrashing.
"Think how Harry'd like to get you in this position!" he remarked.
"Jason! For God's sake!"
"Well, he likes that ass, baby! Thinks you've got a class A ass!"
"It's terrible to talk like that!" She paused, then said, "I can almost feel him now, though." She shivered. "He'd bang me so hard against the edge my thighs would be black and blue! And ... well, yes ... right up the ass!"
"He's wild, isn't he!"
She groaned. "Wild. You'd like to watch that, wouldn't you, honey?"
"I dunno. Maybe someday." He jumped to the floor and resumed the role of photographer. When he had the views he wanted for that position, he untied the ropes from their anchor points. "What next?" he asked.
Agnes rolled onto her back, her buttocks half-over the edge of the bar and her head and arms hanging nearly to the work surface. Jason again drew her feet well apart and secured them with the ropes, then went around and pulled her arms back and down, this time fastening them to the feet of the backside of the bar. Her breasts easily dominated the view from there, and he bent over her and teased them with his mouth.
"He'd get a good dessert of titty, too," he observed.
"He likes that a lot, doesn't he?" she asked.
"Yeah, he does. He'd have to stretch for this, though. He'd like the ottoman better. Get you draped over that, down close to knee level. He could ride you like a pony!"
"Brrrr! Honey, we've got to get some pictures with me on the ottoman that way. I didn't think of that."
"Another guy Harry and I used to surf with would like that, too. It'd blow his mind."
"He's like Harry only more so?"
"No. He pampers his basset hound."
"He what? Jason! Of all things!"
"That beast has the thickest cock I've ever seen on anything smaller than a donkey, and it's thirteen inches long!"
"Oohhh! Stop that!"
"Want me to call him up? He'd be glad to bring the animal over."
"Now, you stop that, Jason! Of course I don't!"
"Okay. But you don't know the chance you're passing up."
"I don't want to know. Knowing's too tempting."
"I suppose so."
Maybe she was unconsciously defining her feelings about Harry and Lee, he thought. Maybe she was finding it hard to keep up her resistance to swapping with them, now that she knew how much fun it was. And once she'd come around on that score he and Harry and Lee could work it out so she'd be on the ottoman some night at just the time Greg showed up with the dog. She'd be begging for one of her own by the second time that brute got to her with his lumpy dick! After all, he wasn't about to tell her the best part about it; let her learn that from experience!
"Honey, the way my back's bent I'm going to break in two. You better get the pictures you want."
He shot five and untied her. She twisted and stretched, working out the soreness, then knelt, still on the bar top.
"I guess we could do this anywhere," she said. "But this is a good stage." She bent and clutched her legs, wrapping her arms around her thighs and elevating her bottom with her face on the gleaming surface of the bar. Jason lashed her forearms together and fought off the temptation to mount her. Again she'd gotten into a position that would have driven Harry up the wall. But he did take twice the standard number of shots. She looked uncomfortable as hell, he thought. Her shoulders were deeply rounded and her breasts were crushed against her thighs. Her belly was creased and folded and her back was curved in a tight, convex line. Where her arms hugged the backs of her thighs, the flesh was indented, and her unruly hair half-covered her face.
When he released her from that pose, she reached out to be lifted down. "Remember the pictures of natives carrying game home slung from a pole?" she asked. "Would that make a good picture?"
"Damned good!" He went to the garage again, then came back to get her. "Nothing in here to work with," he said. "Gotta shift locations." Lashing her wrists together and then her ankles, he slung her over his shoulder and picked up the tripod and cameras. He carried her into the front yard, pretending not to hear her whispered, panicky protests, and laid her in the shelter of a dense Eugenia shrub. There was a horizontal limb on the mock orange nearest the house that ought to be the right height, as he recalled it. The limb looked perfect, and he rigged a multiple loop around it, then returned to the garage for a double hook, which he took back and attached to the hook.
He picked Agnes up and hoisted her to his shoulder again, took her to the tree and lifted her feet, engaging the hook in the ankle lashings. Rearranging his grip on her, he lifted her wrists to the same point and worked those lashings over the hook, also. The loop over the limb was longer than he'd intended, and her bottom hung at the level of his own crotch, but he telescoped the legs of the tripod and focused the camera. The street was visible through the trees beyond her, but he felt that the thickly mingled foliage and the tree trunks would serve as adequate camouflage and keep passing motorists from noticing her.
But her agitation at the danger of discovery had chilled her passion, and he wanted to revive that. Unzipping his fly, he allowed his already painful hard-on to escape, and going to Agnes, he turned her so he could plunge it home. Her reaction astounded him. She forgot the danger instantly, and her entire body quivered with overwrought desire. She humped herself on the shaft and blew her breath through pursed lips, pleading for him to make love all the way. When she was totally committed to her lust, he pulled out his penis and began taking photos.
She hung with her knees between her arms, back down with her buttocks at the lowest point and her crotch protruding from the frame of her thighs. The tendons in the backs of her thighs stood out, and again there were thick rolls across her belly because of its compressed position. Her breasts filled the space between her legs and her chest, and her head hung back, her hair cascading over her back. Each flash reawakened more of her apprehension until she was in a state of real terror. But the traffic sped past without slowing, and finally Jason finished with the cameras and went back to thrust his penis into the inviting hole. Agnes bucked and jerked, and he left the shaft inside her as long as he dared. But finally he carried her back into the house.
"Honey...." There was a speculative note in Agnes' voice.
"Huh?"
"Honey, put me on the ottoman."
"Oh. Now? Well, all right."
He laid her on the couch and unfastened her ankle and wrist lashings. She rubbed her ankles, then lay face-down on the high-centered, old-fashioned footrest in front of his favorite armchair. Parting her thighs, he lashed each knee to one of the feet of the stool and bound each of her wrists to one of the other two. Her head hung toward the floor and her bottom projected over the other end, her crotch open and unprotected.
"Tell me about Greg's dog," she said, her voice strained and quivering.
"He's a basset," Jason said. "Hell, you know how they are. But he's hung like a horse ... balls just about clear the ground and a pecker any man'd give his right arm for." He went to the den and returned with a package. "Got something special on that cock of his. And I think I can give you an idea."
Again, Agnes' thighs were stretched to the limit of their reparability. Their tendons stood rock-hard and trembled violently and uncontrollably. And her labia were swollen and an angry red from the evening's activities and her now-racing imagination. He opened the package and took out a shriveled donut of plastic. Stripping rapidly, he studied his throbbing hard-on, then worked the donut over the head and down the shaft. When it reached the base, he adjusted its position until a small, protruding valve lay along the underside of his cock and pointed back toward his scrotum. There was a stiff hose, about the thickness of a drinking straw, leading from the valve to a hand bulb.
Jason grinned and began to caress Agnes' labia with his fingers. "First off, the dog's name's Major," he told her. "He'd come at you like this, sniffing at your cunt and tasting the pussy juice. He'd like it and start licking." Jason lowered himself and began to lick the quivering rolls of pink and red flesh.
Agnes moaned softly and worked her hips, their agitation rapidly increasing as they pumped to the strokes of his tongue. "He'd be like that?" she asked.
"Only a hell of a lot better, because his tongue's longer and more pliable. He'd lick just about all the juice off, and he'd reach three or four inches inside your cunt for the stuff inside."
She shuddered. "Oh, Jason!" she whispered. "Would he really?"
"You better believe. Anyhow, he'd be getting pretty interested in the way your ass bucked; that'd spell 'ride' to him. And his pecker'd start poking out of its sheathe. By the time the tip was hitting the ground, he'd start humping up, and his hips'd be jerking."
"Fast, honey?"
"No. Slow-like. And he'd whine a little. He'd heave himself up onto you-over your ass-and grab you around the waist with his front paws. His pecker's got a point like a needle, and it'd dance around, slipping on the surfaces of your labia and sliding closer to your cunt all the time. Then it'd get to the hole." Jason laid the head of his penis against the mouth of her vagina. "When he felt the hole, he'd sort of lunge. That cock'd go all the way in with one hard punch." He slammed his hips forward and drove his penis into her to the hilt. The flattened donut vanished, and he felt it settle just inside the bone-rimmed neck of her vagina. "Just like that?" she panted violently.
"Deeper. He's got one thirteen inches long. It'd stretch you all the way to the other end of your guts. Then he'd start pumping and getting a 'phase two' hard-on going."
"What's a 'phase two' hard-on, honey?" Her words were thick with her excitement.
"There's a structure at the base of his cock they call a 'dog knot', baby. When he gets hot enough it starts to swell and harden, and it grows to about the size of a softball." Jason squeezed on the bulb, pumping air through the tiny hose and inflating the donut until it started to crush his shaft.
Agnes cried out in terror. "What's happening! Is Major really there?"
"No. It's me. I had a thing made that does something like Major's dog knot does."
"Oh, Jason! It's enormous! It'll never come out!"
He began to pump his hips, and Agnes flogged hers to his rhythm. Her flesh became mottled with the flush from her exertion and her muscles knotted and appeared to crawl under her skin. "Oh, my! Oh, my, Jason! I'm going to come!"
"You would under Major, too. And he'd keep right on pumping. He comes slower than that." Reaching down awkwardly, Jason jerked the knots loose, freeing her wrists and ankles, and a fierce heat coursed through him as her legs clamped on his thighs. He grasped her hips lightly with his hands and stumbled to get his feet beneath him. When they were solidly planted, he pressed upward, rising slowly. The inflated donut was jammed and too big to come out of Agnes, and it dragged her bottom up with him. She dangled from his penis, his hands supporting just enough of her weight to prevent serious injury to his tortured hard-on.
"Omigod, Jason! OMIGOD!! Would he do this to me?"
"If you somehow got off the ottoman, your ass'd be glued to his belly until he came. He'd probably drag you all over the room while he did." The pressure in Jason's gut exploded, spewing his semen into Agnes, and she groaned wildly and went rigid.
Jason panted harshly. "Dog takes five to ten minutes from the time he starts coming 'til he finishes. Stuff doesn't all squirt out at once like it does with a man. It oozes real slow."
"And ... and I'd be hung up under him all that time?"
"All that time, baby. What he'd likely do would be to drag you into a comer, get your head and shoulders wedged and then pump against that. He'd keep fucking until you'd think your guts were going to come out around his cock."
"Oh, Jason! Jason, it feels like that now!"
Jason grunted. To him, it felt more like the flight of the bumblebee. It felt as if his penis was about to pull out of him, dragging his own guts with it.
He twisted a tiny relief valve in the end of the bulb and the compressed air began slowly to bleed off. For a time Jason verged on panic. The pressure was too slow in decreasing, and the donut was still solidly wedged. But at last Agnes' weight began to pull her off him, and she slid downward as her vaginal mouth passed over the donut, then fell suddenly into a crumpled heap at his feet.
She moaned. "Oh, honey! Oh, I almost wish that had been Major! You got me so horribly excited by telling me!"
He knelt and took her in his arms, cuddling her and kissing her lightly. She was a new Agnes, and tenderness made his throat ache. She clung to him and turned up her face. Her eyes were wet and her lips were parted in invitation. He pressed his mouth to hers in a hard, hungry kiss, and she suddenly darted her tongue past their locked lips to caress his.
"I like it when you tell me stories while we make love," she murmured. "Harry does that, too."
"I didn't know that!"
"He whispers the most awful stories, all the time he's doing things to me. Sometimes I don't know if I come because of what he's doing or what he's saying!"
"Sonovabitch!" That was a side of Harry's character he'd never suspected. He could visualize the dense beard jiggling as Harry's pithy words tumbled out in a whispered stream, and he could easily believe Agnes might react almost as violently to such fantasies as to the physical stimuli Harry inflicted on her.
"Honey, can we use that thing on your penis other times? I think I like it, now that I'm not afraid of it."
"It's pretty brutal, isn't it! Yeah, that's what I bought it for. We'll use it some more."
But she'd get a taste of the real thing, too. He'd see that Major learned the inside of her cunt before her next birthday. And that was less than a month off! he realized suddenly.
Agnes squirmed happily in his arms. "I do love you so, honey! I didn't ever dream how much fun it could be with you until now."
"As much fun as you want it to be, puss. And I love you, too."
"Jason?"
"Huh?"
"Why don't we have Harry and Lee over tomorrow night? It'd be nice to swap again."
"You mean that?"
"Yes. I mean it, love. And maybe that fellow Greg would like to come."
"You better believe, baby!" Jason let a picture form in his mind and felt a hard tingle in his scrotum. "Wild, baby! Wild!"
