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Subject: RP: Behind the Bar (Best stories from my archive)
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                               Behind the Barn


"Just what did you mean by that?" Mike Peters turned slowly around and faced
his wife. He had already opened the door, intending to stalk out, but now he
slammed it shut again, and Sandra recoiled from the look of cold anger he was
leveling at her. But she continued to stare back at him, fury flashing in her
green eyes. Tossing her sleek, raven-crowned head, she fought the beginnings
of fear which were trying to root deep inside her.

"Just what I said!" she retorted bitterly. "You've got some plan in mind for
that little vixen... I saw the way you were looking at her!"

"For Christ's sake, Sandy, try and be reasonable!" Mike snapped, resisting the
temptation to go over and shake his wife until her teeth chattered. He felt
extremely uncomfortable and just a little bit guilty. A guy can't help
looking, he told himself, when a broad as well-built as Eve Slater comes into
view, and as the girl was going to be working for him, he had to be friendly
to her, hadn't he?

"Are you sure she's from the Agricultural College, and not just some little
number you've..."

"I'm sick and tired of listening to your accusations," Mike interrupted, "and
I haven't got all day to stand here and argue with you. Miss Slater," he went
on quietly, "is a student from the college, and perfectly qualified for the
project. She is majoring in Dairying, and will be with us for three months.
Anything else?"

"You can't tell me she knows anything about farming," Sandra persisted,
feeling her anger and jealousy combine and stick in her craw, choking the hot
bitter words out of her. As she continued to rail at her husband, a
suffocating feeling of futility and frustration swept over her. I didn't mean
to nag him like this, she told herself hopelessly. I can't help it... but
she's so young and attractive, and the way he was looking at her...

"I have to go now," Mike said tonelessly, "it's almost milking time."

"That's right," Sandra hurled, "go back to your damn cows... and your
girlfriend!" Great gulping sobs convulsed her, and tears ran down her face as
she stared at the departing figure of her husband. God, why does she have to
cry like that? Mike shrugged as he slammed the door behind him. As always, he
was moved by the sight and sound of her tears, and felt the guilt inside him
strengthening with insidious speed. He would have liked to take her in his
arms, caress and soothe her, stroke away her fears, in spite of her nagging
and accusations, but somehow, he couldn't. He knew he was afraid that she'd
reject his offering of peace, and felt that he couldn't stand the humiliation.
If she wants to be like that, why should I be the one to give in? he reasoned
angrily, as he hurried over to the barn.

Sandra crumpled like a rag doll onto the leather couch. Her sobs resounded in
the small room, and the fading daylight cloaked everything in the office with
ominous ambiguity. She felt small and alone and unprotected and totally
incapable of drawing the strings of her life together. The woman who had
screamed at and harangued her husband over a trivial incident was not the real
Sandra Peters. The real Sandra was a loving, warm woman who stood by and
encouraged her husband in all ventures. But who was that whining domineering
shrew? I can't help it! she told herself again, burying her tear-stained face
in her hands.

The vitriolic, stinging memory of her discovery of her husband's infidelity of
over a year ago came rushing back with painful clarity - the humiliation, the
feeling of complete insecurity, the anguish of it all was as fresh as if it
had just happened. Even though they had made up, and she had sworn to forgive
and forget, and Mike had tried, and was in fact a model husband since then,
she couldn't purge herself of the bitter memory. She knew that she had taken
every opportunity to get back at him, remind him of his indiscretion, to throw
it up in his face on occasions when it was most wounding to him. She knew that
the misery, the unhappiness of their coexistence-existence, because it
couldn't be called a marriage in the usual sense of the word, was mostly her
doing, and yet, nothing would erase the jarring, searing memory of that
dreadful time last year. She hadn't waited to verify her discovery, find out
how long his involvement had been going on, or how serious it was. She had
confronted him immediately, threatened divorce, court action, instant
ignominy, and had relented only after weeks of ceaseless apologies,
declarations of future fidelity and sworn avowals of love by her distraught
husband. In a way, she had to admit to herself, she had enjoyed his obvious
distress at her threat to leave, and had basked in his repeated statements
that "he couldn't live without her." But the satisfaction she gained from the
knowledge that he couldn't do without her was short-lived, and her ego had
suffered too bruising a blow for her to maintain for long her role of sweet,
forgiving but slightly-martyred wife. So her veiled recrimination had begun,
and had gradually become more open and venomous, culminating in her
accusations of today.

But she couldn't fool herself into thinking which she knew in her heart were
unjustified, that her misery and discontent sprang completely from her
husband's behavior. Even in her present misery, she was forced to admit that
her unhappiness was accentuated by underlying discontent with her whole life.
She had never dreamed when she had got engaged to the up and coming junior
executive in the largest New England textile firm, that they would end up in
the heart of New Hampshire farmland. She and Mike had such a good time in
Boston, their first apartment, actually a tiny terraced house, their fast
little sports car, their young, happy-go-lucky friends. She had enjoyed so
much being a working girl and wife, and her job as assistant buyer of
Sportswear for a large department store was flexible enough so that she could
take that bit of extra effort which made her dinner parties such a success.
All her clothes were of the very latest fashion, and even though she got a
discount on them, Mike's salary and hers combined had been generous enough to
allow her to afford the extras, like that pale pink silk full length dress and
matching coat which she had got for the opening of the Opera season.
Everything was going their way, and Sandra actually enjoyed the weekends they
spent in the White Mountains, away from everybody, in that fishing cabin Mike
rented.

At that time, she thought rural life was romantic - sitting before a roaring
fire in the big stone fireplace, lighting the kerosene lamps at night, cooking
the fish Mike had caught. After their hectic weekday round of activities, it
was great being alone together, and when they got back to Boston, all their
friends used to exclaim enviously over their rustic experiences.

It was just after their second wedding anniversary when the blow fell. Mike's
company was moving South, and Mike decided to resign. Sandra was glad about
that, shuddering at the thought of moving to a small town in South Carolina,
and had naturally assumed that Mike would take up another position with a
similar company. But her husband had other ideas. His uncle had willed his
rundown old farm in New Hampshire to Mike, and he had always had a strong urge
to try his hand at farming. He had looked upon his company's removal from
Boston as an act of Fate, and had felt that he had enough saved to enable them
to give farming a try. Dividends would keep them going for a while and the
capital would be sunk into the renovation and working of the farm.

Even now, six years later, Sandra still shuddered at the memory of that
appalling first year on the farm. The cold drafty house, the constant presence
of the builders, with their clouds of cement dust, ceaseless hammering and
banging, cooking and washing and existing in the most primitive conditions -
Sandra thought that she would never survive. All her clothes got torn and
muddy and she had ceased to care about her appearance that first year. But the
greatest change had been in Mike. He was obsessed with the farm - every spare
minute was spent on it; it occupied his mind completely; nothing seemed to
matter to him but the farm. Sandra had nurtured the secret hope that the whole
project would collapse and they could go back to the relative civilization of
Boston. But nothing seemed to deter Mike - not even the loss of their small
herd at the end of the first year through foot and mouth disease. He had
become strangely stoical, and shrugged off his loss, and grimly went about
restocking his farm with more of the huge, ponderous black and white animals
of which Sandra was deathly afraid. Mike used to tease her at first, saying
that the languid Friesians wouldn't touch a fly, but he had gradually become
more and more impatient with her when she refused to share his enthusiasm over
them. As time went on, she lost her fear of them, and even developed sympathy
for them, and she was unable to bear the mournful lowing that rent the air
when the tiny furry calves were taken from their mothers so soon after birth.

Resentment had built up in her over the years as Mike became more and more
immersed in farm life, and his often stated feeling that he was glad he had
made the step from the City irked her considerably. Gradually, their friends
from Boston stopped coming to see them, rapidly losing their idealized notions
of rural life when they saw the day to day reality, and now Sandra had lost
touch with them completely. Her life was empty, pointless, she felt, and her
husband's involvement with the agricultural instructor last year was the last
straw for his demoralized wife. Life was no longer worth living, she thought -
nothing would ever change; things would go on just as they were, with herself
and Mike completely estranged.

She felt like crying again, but no tears would come. In fact, she felt devoid
of all emotion, and the emptiness inside her at least eased the pain. Her mind
was a blank as she got up from the couch, and wearily stretched herself. She
felt old and tired - and beaten. I'm not old - why should I give up living?
she asked herself, catching a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror
that hung behind the door of the office, which was once a small bedroom. She
knew her figure was still good, and she ran her eye critically over her
reflection, noting the firm, braless upsweep of her full breasts through the
raspberry colored angora dress she was wearing, the womanly curve of her
graceful slender hips, the long expanse of her creamy legs. I'm not over the
hill yet, she told herself, running a hand through her silky black hair which
fell to just below her jawline where it swung into a guiche on either side of
her oval face. Luxuriant dark lashes framed her vivid green eyes which even in
her weariness sparkled back at her. What's the use? she mumbled to herself,
turning away from her reflection. Who's going to see me here, vegetating in
the wilderness? She conquered the fresh wave of bitterness rising inside her
and with a sigh, sat down on Mike's swivel chair, in front of his untidy,
littered desk. It was already the first week of the month, and she hadn't done
the accounts for the previous one. Idly, she swept together the crumpled,
disorganized sheaf of papers which was a jumbled mass of invoices, receipts
and canceled checks. Glad of something to take her mind off her troubles, she
plunged into the task of sorting everything out and was soon immersed in her
work. When she had made everything into three separate piles, she pulled open
a drawer in the desk, and began to rummage about, looking for the ledger to
make entries for the month. Why the hell doesn't he keep his desk tidier! she
muttered to herself as she eased a long, hardbound book out of the drawer. As
she removed it, her eye fell on a bulging manila envelope which had been
wedged between another book and the one she had withdrawn.

"Now what's this doing here?" she muttered to herself, irked at the disorder
in the files she had arranged only recently. Frowning slightly to herself, she
fumbled with the envelope and discovered that it was full of photographs.

Puzzled, she eased one out of the envelope.

"Oh my God!" she gasped aloud, unable to contain herself. The blood rushed to
her face, crimsoning it a deep red. Tumultuous feelings of horror, disgust,
anger manifested themselves in a single sensation of overwhelming nausea. A
numbed haze blinded her for an instant, and then she began to stare with
bulging, disbelieving eyes at the colored print she was holding in her hand.
Every detail was startlingly portrayed and the two figures in the photograph
seemed amazingly alive. For a moment, Sandra couldn't believe that she was
seeing right, but there was no doubt about it - it was actually a photograph
of a nude man and woman, sprawled out together, the woman's blonde head dipped
between the man's widespread thighs, his grossly inflated penis clamped
tightly between her ovaled red lips. The man's head was turned away, but there
was no mistaking the expression on the rapt woman's face. She was enjoying
taking that man's hardness in her mouth - her lustful desire was etched
clearly on her eager face.

Sandra felt her heart thudding painfully in her ribcage. She had heard, of
course, that people did that sort of thing, but had always somehow felt that
such an act did not belong in a normal marriage. The lascivious scene seemed
to come to pulsating life under her hypnotized stare, and the huge
blood-filled penis seemed to throb with lewd tenseness as it lay cradled
between the full, ripe lips that were clasping it so tenaciously. The woman's
half-closed eyes seemed glazed with passion, and Sandra felt a shudder of
unknown sensation ripple through her. She couldn't seem to draw her eyes away
from the obscene photograph. Her fingers seemed to be soldered to the glossy
print, and somehow she felt that if she looked away from the perverted sight,
she would tear herself away from a tenuous reality which her moribund emotions
so badly needed, and go berserk with disgust and horror. How could he keep
such filthy, lewd pictures? her mind began to question. Does he look at them
often? Where did he get them?

Her curiosity broke the spell the obscene photograph had on her
conscientiousness, and hurriedly, she drew out another of the colored prints.
Her eyes flew immediately to the scene, and a sudden, strangled moan of horror
broke from her lips.

"Oh no! It can't be!" she groaned as she stared fixedly at the second
photograph. This time, the shot was taken from a distance, but near enough to
display in detail the pink moist delineations of a widespread vagina, the
glistening lips gently swollen around a dark star-shaped opening. A man's face
was juxtaposed over the splayed mouth, the tip of his long tongue poised at
the entrance to the delicate roseate furrow. And there was no mistaking that
face, so wreathed in anticipatory lust. It was Mike! For a moment, Sandra
couldn't believe that it was actually her husband who was portrayed in that
disgusting snapshot, the wavy fair hair, his deep blue eyes, his fleshy
sensuous lips. Numbed shock rushed in a roaring torrent to her head,
threatening to explode, and she had to hold onto the arm of the swivel chair
to steady herself. Mike! How could he do this to another woman? How could he
let himself be photographed like that? She wanted to scream, to beat her fists
against the wall, to turn back the clock and forget that she had ever seen the
lewd pictures. Through the dim of her hurt and disgust, another thought nagged
at her brain. This lascivious blonde in the photograph, who had splayed her
legs so unreservedly for her husband, was not the same woman that Mike was
having an affair with last year. So there had been others! New thundering
anger swelled inside the distraught wife at the thought that she had been
deceived, and furiously, she snatched the remaining photographs up and scanned
them. Each one, seemingly more lewd than the previous one, leaped up at her
horrified eyes as if to taunt her with the spectacle of her husband engaged in
all different positions, with different women, and sometimes with more than
one!

"That bastard! That dirty bastard!" Sandra gasped, and in a fury of temper,
began to splash out at the contents of the desk, scattering papers, letter
trays, pens; everything went flying in all directions and fell to create
untold chaos on the floor. Her anger unleashed beyond control, she yanked at
the file drawers, pulling them completely away from their moorings, and dumped
the files she had so carefully put in order, in a disheveled heap on the
floor.

As suddenly as it came, her demonic flash of temper deserted her, and she sank
back in hopeless bewilderment on the swivel chair. All around her, the records
of the past eight years lay in disarray on the floor, and a dreadful sense of
futility convulsed her.

"Oh God," she sobbed, "what did I do to deserve this?" She buried her face in
her hands and her shoulders shook with the racking sobs which enveloped her.
How many more were there? she asked herself piteously, torturing herself with
images of various women that both she and Mike had known. Had he had an affair
with all their friends? she wondered bitterly. In her jealous humiliated
anger, new images began to inject themselves into her consciousness - glimpses
she had caught of various naked bodies with full voluptuous breasts and creamy
sinewy thighs, stretched out in opulent sensuality, seemingly oblivious to the
unknown photographers who were busy snapping away as her husband caressed and
stroked and kissed those velvety bodies. Her mind seemed unable to banish the
lewd images, and fresh ones began to superimpose themselves in her fervid
imagination. Mike kissing and slavering an open, exposed vagina, lewdly
displayed and eagerly offered to him... Mike sinking his wildly excited penis
into a greedy, grasping vaginal orifice, strong supple thighs egging him on...
Mike lying back as luscious red lips encircled his bloated penis... The
obscene snatches from the vile cache of photographs she had unwittingly
uncovered played relentlessly in her mind, mocking her with their leering
evidence of her husband's infidelities.

She felt broken in mind and spirit. The actuality which those photographs
seemed to point to was too shocking for her to bear. Under the thin veneer of
city sophistication she had acquired, Sandra was still basically a
conventional American wife, strict enough in her own way to the code of
morality to which her family and all before her had subscribed. She had looked
upon marriage as sacred, even in this day and age of quickie divorce and
pre-marital and extra-marital sex, and had automatically assumed that any
philandering on the part of her husband would stop after marriage. And she was
sure it had! That was the hard part. She had been so snug and secure, even in
the dark days of their early times on the farm, feeling cocooned in the
sanctity of the wedded state, and that accounted for the tremendous shock she
experienced when she had discovered her husband's affair last year. And now!
She had uncovered devastating evidence that pointed to a whole series of
adulterous infidelities! Involuntarily, she reached for the pile of
photographs which had fallen to the ground amid the shambles of the office.

Almost disinterestedly, she scanned them over again. Yes, there was no doubt
about it! There were three or four different girls involved in the debacle,
and the pictures showed Mike involved with each and every one.

She studied a particularly lurid one, showing him and a tall lithe brunette
stretched out, touching at only two places. His mouth was firmly planted in
the nest of her dark pubic curls, and her mouth was tightly clasped around the
red thick length of his penis. The girl's eyes were half-closed and her thick
luxuriant hair fell in tendrils around her face, giving her an almost angelic
look as she exalted in the feel and taste of Sandra's husband's penis in her
mouth. Sandra continued to stare at the lewd shot. What did it feel like,
having a man's male hardness locked tightly in your mouth? she wondered,
amazed at the look of almost reverent ecstasy on the girl's face. Mike had
tried once or twice, she remembered, pushing her head down under the blanket,
and she had, of course, refused to do anything like that. She had always
thought it perverted, somehow, and yet, this girl seemed to be thoroughly
aroused by it. And that blonde in the first picture, she mused in horrified
fascination, flicking back to it, seems in ecstasy, too. Her attention was
caught by one she hadn't scrutinized before. It showed a well-built redhead,
her breasts full and vibrant, spread-eagled beneath Mike, whose engorged prick
was sunk halfway into the soft, hair-fringed tunnel of her vagina. The girl's
legs were wrapped around her husband's lower back and her spine was arched up
off the bed as she strove to open her depths wider and deeper to him. Sandra
stared in lewd fascination at the minutely detailed photographs of sexual
intercourse. Even her animosity to her husband seemed to retreat as she
studied abstractly the obviously impassioned couple. The redhead's head was
thrown back, and her mouth was open. Her hands were dug into his shoulders,
and her whole body seemed afire. Mike's hands were clutching at her firm,
upswept breasts, and Sandra could see the reddened tips of her fully turgid
nipples slipping out through his fingers. There was a look of pure animal
desire on her husband's face, a look she hadn't seen in a long, long time!
Despite herself, Sandra felt a little tug of jealousy. She remembered how she
used to arouse that complete passionate frenzy in her husband, how he used to
be almost aflame with desire for her, and her alone, she was sure, and now,
this redheaded hussy was the one who was making him act like that...

Sudden tears surprised her as they swam in her eyes. It isn't fair... she
murmured to herself. It was so long since she had seen Mike crazed with
desire, so long since he had even made love to her... She felt a sudden
emptiness inside her, a feeling which she recognized as vague desire. It began
to gnaw at her, worming its way insidiously into her depths, gaining a
foothold in her numb body. He never tries to kiss me there anymore... the
thought leapt into her head. It was years since he had tried to persuade her
to allow him to put his head down between her thighs and kiss her pussy, but
she had so vehemently and absolutely refused him when he had made the attempt.
It can't be so bad, she muttered to herself, her eyes glued to another shot,
this time of Mike with his face buried in the copper fleece of the redhead's
openly throbbing cunt. Sandra could see the moist flanges of the girl's vagina
rimming Mike's wetly glistening nose and mouth, and her thighs were clamped
and straining eagerly around his steaming face. The girl's eyes were closed
and it was obvious that she was in the throes of complete abandon. Then, in
spite of the shock and revulsion of seeing her husband locked in lewd, naked
embrace with another woman, Sandra felt a tingle beginning between her own
legs, a ripple that seemed to grow as her eyes continued to focus on the
spectacle of her husband's groveling between another woman's widespread
thighs. How did it feel, to have a man's tongue licking and sucking and
blowing his hot, passionate breath into that secret place, have his mouth warm
and caressing around your clitoris, feel his kiss on your nakedly exposed
pubic mound?

Her feverish mind threw the questions at herself, and suddenly, she felt hot
all over, covered with a cloying clamminess that made her feel like tearing
her dress from her body. She was dimly aware that she was unconsciously
clenching her heated thighs together and imperceptibly grinding her buttocks
into the leather of the swivel chair. The tingling in her loins grew and the
gnawing inside her burst into a devouring flame and she wondered vaguely what
was happening. Her eyes flickered aimlessly to another picture, and a startled
gasp eluded her as she stared in disbelief at what she saw. Sandra thought
that the photographs she had already examined had prepared her to a point
where she was beyond surprise, but she was wrong. She gaped in astonishment at
the candid snapshot, unable and unwilling to believe that it was her husband
who was actually inserting his huge, lust-hardened penis in the blonde's tiny
puckered anus! But there was no doubt about it - the photograph showed in
unerring detail the enormous girth of Mike's blood-inflated prick encircled by
the brown crinkled little rectal mouth, stretched cruelly around the massive
circumference. This lasciviously depicted anal entry was too much for Sandra.
Revulsion swept through her - disgust at the knowledge that the man she had
married could and did indulge in such an animalistic, carnal act, a thing she,
a grown woman, had only heard about in whispers. It was too shameful to even
think about; it was disgusting! And yet, Sandra noticed in amazement, the
blonde didn't seem to mind it. In fact, she seemed to like it, judging by the
lewd look of delight on her passion-contorted face. Oh God, what was going on?
Her world seemed to have gone topsy-turvy, and all the opinions she had held
on such matters seemed to have been refuted by the pictorial evidence she held
in her hand. These girls weren't being abused, subjected to a man's whim or
desire - they were actually enjoying it! They seemed to love all the obscene
things Mike was doing to them... they were reveling in what to her would be
the lowest kind of debasement.

Bewilderment crowded in on Sandra, and she felt completely out of control of
the situation. Her hands rose slowly to her breasts, and she gasped as she
felt the electrifying effect her own touch had on the now sensuously throbbing
mounds. But she couldn't take her hands away - somehow she felt that she had
only herself to turn to in order to help her get over this terrible discovery.
She felt strangely lucid, as if her perusal of the lewd pornographic pictures
had touched off a streak of insanity in her, and she could no longer control
her stampeding libido. Her mind was fermenting with images of the various
positions she had seen in the photographs, and lurid thrills were beginning to
shoot up and down her body. Involuntarily, she pressed her palms down her
sides, along her hips, and then dipped them between her nylon-encased thighs.
Immediately, she felt as if her vaginal mound was straining to reach the
comfort of her own hands, and she felt a rush of inner moisture proclaim the
intensity of the weird sensations. She could feel that the crotch-band of her
panties was slightly moistened and her fingers inched forward, like individual
bloodhounds on the scent of a relentless target.

Moments of rationality broke intermittently through the clouds of her frenzy,
and taunted her with unanswerable questions. What had turned her into a
roiling mass of feverish desire? Was it because Mike hadn't made love to her
for so long? Or were the dirty pictures having an illicit prurient effect on
her?

Her fingers kneaded at the burning lips of her moistened pussy through the
flimsy panties and Sandra winced from the delicious contact. Why should I be
denied pleasure? her mind argued dimly. All those girls were enjoying
themselves; Mike was pleasing them... it's not fair that I should be left
out...

As though they had received assent, her fingers burrowed hurriedly under the
leg band of her panties and teased over to the tingling flesh of her swollen
pussy lips, and Sandra felt the fleshy folds pulsate under her sensitive
fingertips. She sighed from the exquisite sensation, feeling relief flow
through her. This is wrong... YOU SHOULDN'T DO THIS! Veiled threats echoed
through her mind, hidden warnings from schoolgirl-filled corridors... dark
messages about evil masturbation...

But Sandra was too intoxicated with the rush of pleasure to pay any heed to
her own somber warnings, and her fingers continued to plunge into the warm
deep recesses of her desire-drenched pussy. Nothing mattered to her now - the
whys and wherefores were unimportant - all that she was concerned with was
quenching the raging fires that had sprung up unattended in her loins, and
which required heavenly fuel to feed its lascivious hunger before it allowed
itself to be put out.

Suddenly irritated by the impediment of her panties, her hands began to tear
impatiently at them, and she raised her hips from the swivel chair, and eased
them down over her thighs, leaving them dangling at her knees. But she didn't
care about that - her hands were rolling up her soft angora dress and bunching
it about her hips, and she reveled in the freedom of exposing her
passion-enflamed loins to the cool evening air which was rushing in from the
half-opened office window. Her fingers dug impatiently again at her burning
furrow, and convulsively probed at the trembling hole of her clasping cunt.

"Aaaaaahhhhhhhh..." she couldn't suppress a sigh as her hand cupped onto the
now moistly pulsating orifice and she felt the heated walls close in like a
vise on her sunken middle finger.

The passion inside her was goaded on to greater fever by the lurid thoughts
which had taken possession of her head and would not yield. Obscene thoughts
framed by the disgusting photographs she had seen, images of desire and lust
instigated by many actions and acted out in many forms. She was almost
convinced that a large heated penis was ramming into her eager, open pussy,
that she was one of those girls whose head was thrown back in complete
abandon, whose mouth was open and from which a stream of sighs was rushing,
whose hips were churning under the delicious onslaught of a heavy,
passion-bloated cock which was plunging deeper and deeper and harder into
her...

Waves of heat were washing over her now as she ground her buttocks down into
the leather of the seat and revolved her saturated fingers around inside the
velvety interior of her febrile vaginal sheath. A feeling of dizziness was
taking control of her, coupled with a wonderful sensation of relief, and now
she knew she was cumming, because she felt so good all over, and her hips were
jerking uncontrollably, and a mist of hot, feminine orgasmic fluid washed down
over her churning fingers, and she felt the office revolve around her and her
head was torpedoed by a kaleidoscope of collaged nude figures, male and
female, all fucking and sucking and licking in total frenzy, and she was at
the center of it all, and she was loving it, every minute of it...

Sandra slunk back against the chair, drained of all energy, curiously devoid
of all feeling but a satiated stupor which controlled her and made it
impossible for her to do anything, not even pull her dress down over her naked
thighs. Her legs were splayed, her panties hanging uselessly at her knees, and
in the dim of the mortification which was beginning to manifest itself inside
her, she reassured herself icily... "he'll pay for this... I'll make him pay
for this..."

Sam Maguire eased himself down from the ledge under the office window, and
with a furtive glance around, slunk off into the foliage that surrounded the
Peters' house. He was still trembling with excitement, and could hardly
believe what he had seen. Later, when he got to his quarters, he would go over
it all again in his mind, dwelling on every single detail of what he had seen.
He couldn't quite believe that he had been so lucky. He thanked his lucky
stars that he had decided to have a peek when he saw the window open in the
office, and heard muffled sounds from inside. Of course, it was fairly dim
inside, but still, he could see what was going on.

I seen her! I seen her fingerfucking her own pussy! he chuckled to himself,
treasuring the memory of the faint glimmer of hair-lined pink he had glimpsed
between her open thighs as he eavesdropped on the demented woman. He had seen
her flimsy white little panties dangling at her knees, too. Who'd have thought
that he, a mere farm hand, would have got a front row seat, and seen with his
own eyes the beautiful wife of his boss, playing with herself? All the nights
he'd dreamed about the lovely, haughty Mrs. Peters, all the times he'd
imagined what she'd be like with her dignity lost and stripped bare-ass
naked... now he'd seen her, half-naked anyway. She didn't see him, didn't know
he'd been watching, but he had been, and God, he wouldn't have missed it for
anything.

Mike hurried over to the dairy and went straight to the milking parlor. He
spotted Eve right away, standing to the right of the long row of cows already
chained in the milking passage. She had put on a white coat, and her blonde
hair was piled high on her head, and capped with a small band of white. Even
with her fair, creamy skin, she did not look washed-out, and Mike thought to
himself how attractive she looked in the white dairy coat. Her ample curves
were cleverly accentuated by the tightly belted garment and Mike could not
resist running his eyes over her proud, full breasts jutting out like
snow-capped peaks, the slight sway of her molded hips, the long arch of her
shapely legs. She was talking to Sam Maguire, and turned when she heard Mike
come in.

"Good Evening, Miss Slater. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

"Oh no, Mr. Peters. Sam here has been showing me the ropes and making me feel
at home. And do call me Eve, please."

"All right, Eve," Mike laughed. "We don't stand on formality here, so you
might as well call me Mike."

Mike felt more at ease when Sam had ambled off to attend to the animals
already milked. He felt a warm friendliness exuding silently from Eve, and it
comforted him somehow, as he was still stinging from Sandra's verbal blows. He
felt that her accusations had been unjust; he had bent over backwards over the
past year to make up for the affair she had found out about, and yet nothing
seemed to please her. She had changed so much over the past few years, he
mused sadly to himself; she wasn't the same woman he'd married, laughing, full
of fun, ready for anything. She had turned into a nagging, whining shrew and
didn't seem to care whether he was there or not. It was that feeling of not
being wanted that had made him seek refuge in other women. Of course, he felt
guilty about it, feeling like a rat as he slunk off to his clandestine
meetings, but he had to do something, or he'd go mad. Still, it was unfair of
her to accuse him of being interested that way in Eve. He'd be mad to try
anything with her, right under Sandra's nose. Not that he'd mind -

"A penny for them!" Eve's light-hearted voice chimed in on his rambling
thoughts, and her interruption caused him to blush to the roots of his hair.

"I'm sorry, Miss... Eve, I mean... I've been so rude; I was completely carried
away..." he stammered, conscious of her twinkling gray eyes fixed on him. He
felt awkward, like a schoolboy. Her searching graze was so intent, he felt
sure for a brief instant that she must have read his thoughts, but knew that
was ridiculous.

"Well," he began lamely, "do you think you'll enjoy working here?"

"Oh yes," she exclaimed, smiling widely. "Everything's so up-to-date, and
you've got a fine herd. Sam showed me around everywhere, and I even saw your
donkey herd. That broken-colored stallion is magnificent!"

"Yes, he's a fine fellow, isn't he? Imported from England from one of the
champions over there. I hope to have some good progeny from him next year."

"How is he working out as a sire?" Eve asked interested. Mike started, her
question disturbing him. What did she mean? She knew he had only just got the
stallion, that there wouldn't be any foals till next year.

"Eh, what do you mean?" he asked guardedly.

"I mean, does he do the job properly? He looked pretty young to me!"

Mike found himself coloring again. What was the matter with the girl, asking
questions like that?

"He's able to manage," Mike faltered, and immediately turned his attention to
placing the clusters on the first cow's teats. Normally, the dairy girl and
Sam did the actual milking, but as Eve was new, and the machine might be
unfamiliar to her, Mike had decided to help her, in case she needed any
instructions or had any problems.

"I love the feel of a cow's teat in my hand," Eve mused to him, moving on to
the next animal. "It feels so soft, so sensuous," she went on dreamily, "and
it almost comes to life as the milk flows through it, and the thick frothy
cream spurts out of it..." Mike was glad he was hidden from her sight, and
that she couldn't see the flushed look of astonishment on his face. Her voice
was so hazy, her tone so sultry, and Mike could see out of the corner of his
eye that she was caressing one of the pink-tinged teats as tenderly and
lovingly as if... He felt stunned by the impact of his own lewd thought. As if
it were a man's cock! That was the thought that leaped into his head and
drummed persistently at his consciousness.

"Mike, could you help me please!" she called out suddenly, and he found
himself rushing over to her, glad of the chance to be near her again. She was
hunched over one of the milk tube clusters which was lying on the ground, and
Mike's eyes were drawn, as if by a magnet, to the exciting split between the
tops of her creamy white breasts. He was mesmerized by the enticing glimpse of
her deep cleft and had to drag his eyes away when she looked anxiously up at
him.

I seem to have lost one of the tops," she said worriedly, and Mike got down on
his knees beside her, and scanned the straw for the dark-rimmed cap.

"Here it is!" he said suddenly, picking it out of a golden sheaf, and he began
to screw it back into the tube.

"Oh thank goodness you found it," Eve breathed, laying one of her small white
hands on his thigh, "I was so worried." Her touch was like a firebrand on his
flesh and when he looked at her, she was smiling at him.

"Well, we'd better get on with the milking," he said weakly, and reluctantly,
it seemed to him, she removed her hand from his thigh. He suddenly felt
bereft, as if a part of him was missing. Pull yourself together, he chided
himself, you're acting like a teenager, imagining all sort of ridiculous
things.

They worked silently, preparing all the cows for milking, and Mike's thoughts
were swirling around in his head. He couldn't shake loose the memory of her
touch on his thigh. Did she mean to do that, or was it just an accident? And
what did she mean by all that stuff about the teat?

Finally, Mike switched on the milking machine, and the barn was filled with
the vibrating sounds of the pulsator.

"Mmm, it's hot in here!" Eve said suddenly, and began to unbutton her dairy
coat.

"D'you mind if I take this off?" she queried Mike, and when he replied, "of
course not," she removed it, and Mike saw that she was wearing a red
see-through blouse and a tight black mini-skirt. He could see that she was
wearing a matching red bra, really only a strip of lace, and his eyes were
riveted on the generous mounds of her ivory breasts which were visible through
the red nylon.

"Do you like them?" Eve's voice broke in on his distraction, and he could only
stare open-mouthed at her. Had he heard her right? His heart began to thud
uncomfortably in his chest and he was at a loss as to what to do.

"Would you like to see them?" Again her gay, mocking voice startled him.

"Wha..." he could only stammer.

"Would you like to see my breasts, Mike?" she asked again with exaggerated
slowness, walking a step closer to him.

"Are you out of your mind?" Mike snapped, afraid that his mind was playing
tricks on him. "This is no time for games!"

"I'm not playing any games!" Eve said silkily, and Mike watched in boggling
disbelief as her fingers fumbled with the buttons on her sheer blouse. Gaping,
he saw the edges fall away and reveal the exquisite form of her perfectly
molded breasts, made all the more provocative by the dainty confines of her
lacy bra. He could see the alabaster flesh heaving slightly and was hypnotized
by the rhythmic rise and fall of the luscious orbs.

Incredibly, he saw Eve's hand slip around to the back, and in a moment, she
was shrugging the thin satin straps from her smooth, pearly shoulders.

"Christ, they're beautiful!" He couldn't resist gasping as the full glory of
her exquisitely sculpted breasts came into his astonished view. Craning his
neck, his eyes bulged as he stared at the creamy expanse of the silky mounds,
surmounted by delicate pink nipples, semi-erect from the rustling of her bra.
Her hands crept up and cupped the full rounded young spheres, thrusting them
out, pointing the hardening little buds at her disbelieving employer.

"God, Eve, I..." he murmured, unable to tear his eyes away from the half-naked
girl. His head was swirling - things were happening too fast for him. He could
feel the protuberance of his cock growing, and it was beginning to swell
against the confines of his pants. His hands fidgeted by his sides - they
itched to reach out and clasp those glorious globes of young college-girl tit
flesh, to knead and pummel them. His mouth longed to take the tiny budding
nipples between his lips, coax them into turgidity with his tongue, nip on
their sweetness with his teeth. God, she was driving him mad, standing there
half-dressed, like some youthful naked Venus. She moved closer to him, so
close that her naked breasts brushed against the blue denim of his work shirt,
and the delicious contact sent eddies of almost intolerable pleasure soaring
through him. Sinuously, she rubbed the hardened tips against his chest,
purring like a cat, her arm resting casually on his thigh again. He wanted to
pull away, order his errant young employee to get dressed, get on with the
milking, but he couldn't. What he really wanted to do was take her in his
arms, crush his mouth down on hers, knock the breath out of her with his kiss,
caress those ripe boobies of hers, and then fuck her, yes, fuck her to within
an inch of her life. Instead, he managed to inch backward a little.

"Eve... we shouldn't..." he faltered, his eyes dropping again to the sensuous
grace of her unadorned breasts.

"We shouldn't... what?" she queried boldly.

"We... you shouldn't... tease a man like that!" he gasped, feeling his face
flush. Yes, that's what she was doing, teasing him with her naked tits, her
sulky voice, her veiled hints. Well, she'd better watch her step, or she'd get
more than she bargained for!

"I'm-not-teasing!" she enunciated, her hand slowly reaching for the side zip
of her brief black skirt. With a horrified stare, he watched as she eased the
skirt down over her full hips, slipping it down her thighs, and kicking it
aside as it reached her ankles, leaving her nude except for a tiny pair of
bikini briefs the same startling red as her bra.

"For God's sake, Eve, anyone could come in..." Mike gasped, his eyes riveted
on the golden triangle of pubic curls squashed beneath the sheer fabric of her
panties.

"So what?" Eve laughed. "You're a man, and I'm a woman. What we do is our
business... isn't it?"

"You're crazy!" Mike rasped. "You'd better get dressed before... before I..."

"Before you go out of your mind?" she taunted, moving in a little circle
around the demented man.

"That's right, you teasing little bitch!" Mike rasped, his control snapping
like a straw inside him. "You can't expect to go prancing around in front of a
man, naked like that, and not affect him. You should know what this could lead
to, the temptation you're putting my way. I'm only flesh and blood, and this
is more than any man can take!" He railed on, his mouth dry and his voice
hoarse, fighting to control the demons of lust which were mutinying inside
him. She continued to look at him with her mocking eyes.

"Poor Mike!" she clucked, her hand dropping down and cradling the considerable
bulge of his swollen prick in her palm. "What are you getting so uptight
about?" she crooned as she began to massage the growing organ, feeling it
pulse hotly in her hand.

Perspiration broke out on Mike's face. What the hell did she think she was
doing? Poor Mike indeed! She thought she could twist him around her little
finger. Well, he'd show her he wasn't the Milquetoast she thought he was!

"Now listen, Eve," he began, but her hand was already drawing down the zipper
of his pants, and his demented cock, rejoicing in its sudden freedom, leaped
up, cleaving the air, the red bulbous head grotesque in its palpitating
arousal. His mouth hinged open as he stared down at the apparition of his own
blood-engorged prick, and he moaned from the tremendous contact between her
cool fingers and his heated, throbbing flesh. Her hands stroked and kneaded
the elongated rod, drawing it out into an even greater length and Mike felt
powerless to do anything but stand there and allow his new employee to stroke
his ever hardening cock in her masterful, exciting way.

"Mmmm, what a nice big cock you've got, Mike!" Eve hummed, continuing her
rhythmic pummeling of his pulsating organ, "I just know I'm going to enjoy
working for you..."

Her hand reached in and cupped the squirming sac of his testicles in her palm,
and Mike felt rising shivers of ecstasy course through him, emanating from the
sensitive balls. Mike leaned back against the edge of the stall, lost in the
sensual reverie that Eve was weaving around him. God, her hand felt so good on
his cock, stroking and kneading like that... it was a long time since he'd
felt a hot hand on his prick... too long, in fact... Sandra never touched him
there... SANDRA! The memory of his wife jarred him back to reality. She could
easily walk in here, find him like this, being stroked and caressed by this
young voluptuous agricultural student! It would mean the end of everything,
their marriage, all they had worked for! She'd never forgive him!

With a tortured groan, he wrenched back from Eve and backed out of the stall.
His face burning, he stuffed his long suffering penis back into his pants, and
hurried over and turned off the milking motor.

I don't know what came over me..." he mumbled. I must've been crazy.. anybody
could have come in...!" Unable to meet her gaze, Mike hurried over to the
cows, and began to undo the clusters frenziedly, his fingers shaking.

"Mike!" Eve's soft voice was directly behind him. Squatting to remove the
clusters from the cow's teats, he half-turned and saw Eve standing directly
behind him.

"My God!" he gasped, the milk-clusters falling from his hands. She was stark
naked! She was standing with her legs slightly apart, and he could just barely
see the faint pink sheen of her pussy lips peeping out from under the soft
resilient thatch of golden curls. His throat felt arid, and his voice failed
him. He could only stare. She was like a creature from another world. A
strange, exotic female who towered over him, and was omnipotent. She held the
power to transmit incredible sensual ecstasy to him, and he was her slave.

"Eve..." he managed to croak feebly.

And then she was beside him, kneeling on the soft straw, pushing him gently
back. He was unresisting, borne along on the wind of her tremendous sexuality.
He was completely in her power, and yielded as she once more freed the heated
protuberance of his bulging cock. He sighed an uncontrollable moan as it
sprang up from the forest of his pubic hair and gasped again as her fingers
once more encircled it, pulling on it gently. Her fingers were easing off his
pants, and were playing titillatingly along his thighs, sending chills of
pleasure rippling up and down and along his skin, and kindling great flames of
heat deep in the pit of his stomach. Like a robot, his hands reached up
eagerly for the target they yearned, and grabbed the full soft mounds of her
tender breasts, and clutched at the delicate flesh with his talon-like
fingers, making her wince from the sudden pain, and leaving little red welts
on the smooth white skin. His fingers drubbed the hard little beads of her
nipples, rubbing them mercilessly, tugging on them until they were rigid
little spears. Beside him, the cow fidgeted nervously, anxious over the
unaccustomed disturbance at her feet, and Mike felt a moment's paralyzing fear
lest her hooves lash out at his prostrate body. But all practical
consideration fled from his brain as he felt his young milk maid settle
herself over him, her long smooth thighs straddling his naked hips and Mike
could feel the graze of her soft curling pubic hair as it brushed against his
naked stomach. Still grasping his distended cock in her hand, she began to
guide it towards the warm grasping furrow of her cunt, and Mike sighed with
pleasure as he felt the hard rubbery head caress the soft delicate tissue
already moist with expectation.

She began to sweep the bulging head of his inflated prick along the length of
her pulsating cuntal split, and the fluted edges of her moistly glistening
inner lips clung tenaciously to his hard masculine flesh, and the bulbous head
became lubricated with her free-flowing vaginal juices. His head was swirling
and a wave of pleasure, such as he had not experienced in a long time, was
washing over him again and again, and with each cleansing wave, he was laved
of any doubts and fears he might have had. Gone was all worry about his wife
or anyone else finding him stretched out with his naked young female employee;
gone completely was any fear of discovery. All that mattered was the
unbelievable thrill of ecstasy he was feeling and which he knew would mount up
to an incredible crescendo of hedonistic delight.

"Mmmmm..." Eve sighed, "your cock feels so good against my pussy..."

The lewd words coming from the young, innocent faced girl's lips excited Mike
even more and he felt lust mushrooming inside him and threatening to turn him
into a raving beast. His hands flew down and grasped the girl's slim tapering
hips, and held her in a vise-like grip. Hungrily, he began to rotate her
entire pelvis until she was revolving over the spongy cap of his burgeoning
penis still grasped firmly in her hand. Gingerly, she began to position
herself over the jutting instrument, easing herself down slowly, until she had
managed to insert the huge distended head up inside the tender inner folds of
her cunt mouth.

"Aaaaahhhhhhh..." she sighed, accustoming herself to the hard feeling of a
heavy, pounding prick inside her. But the initial contact unleashed the fury
of Mike's lust, and with a savage snarl, he crashed the helpless girl's pelvis
downward, driving his thick rod upwards with flesh-splitting cruelty.

"AAAARRRRGHHHHHHHH..." Eve screamed out and struggled in a vain attempt to
dislodge the terrible instrument from her unsuspecting depths. But she was
completely skewered, and the fleshy hair-lined outer lips of her pulsing
vagina were resting on the tickling nest of Mike's blond pubic forest. Beside
them, the cow snorted, frightened by the ear-piercing scream, and began to paw
the ground ominously.

Mike's fingers clawed at the soft resilient flesh of Eve's smooth rounded
buttocks as he raised her loins upward, feeling her sensitive inner membrane
cling to his hard fleshy rod as her heated vaginal sheath slid upwards. He
held her poised above him, leaving just the hard burgeoning head still buried
inside her, and then he crashed her down again, feeling the spongy global
mounds of her buttocks flatten down against his pubic area as his tunneling
prick plunged far up inside her, cleaving her unaccustomed flesh with cruel
obstinacy. He could feel the pliant entrance of her cringing womb yield before
his unabated onslaught and a gasp of mingled shock and excitement escaped her
as she felt the unexpected pressure so deep up inside her impaled belly.

Eve's eager vagina had accustomed itself to the ponderous girth of Mike's
trammeling penis, and she began to move up and down freely, establishing a
yo-yo like rhythm. Mike's palpitating cock seemed to expand even more inside
her and she responded with a gentle tentative flexing of her practiced inner
muscle which seemed to excite him to even greater lust. His hands shot up
eagerly and enfolded the enticing orbs of her breasts in his palms, and they
rubbed and caressed her throbbing flesh, sending chill after chill curdling
through her blood, making passion pulse hotly through her veins.

"Oh God, Mike..." she gasped, her hands clutching at his tensely corded
thighs, "your hands feel good on my titties... as good as your cock feels
inside me..."

Tremors of passion were spasming through Mike. Eve's lewd words of praise sent
lurid shivers running up and down his spine and doubled the already incredible
pleasure he was feeling. He could hardly believe what was happening! Only this
morning, this girl was a complete stranger, newly arrived from Agricultural
School, and now, after a turn of events which had left him breathless, they
were fucking, or rather, she was fucking him! Yes, she was the one who had
seduced him, and who was now riding him like a savage Indian girl on a
half-wild mustang, her thighs clenching his hips viciously, and the soft inner
hole up between her legs milking furiously on his rampaging cock. He had never
experienced anything like this before - stretching out on the soft golden
straw, being screwed by a real woman - because that's what Eve was, there was
no doubt about that. Beside him, the cow lowed deeply, finally accepting the
strange, nakedly writhing couple beside her, and Mike felt her breath, warm
and sweet scented, wafting gently over his perspiring face.

Mike glanced up and saw that Eve's face was coated with perspiration, her
mouth was half open and her head was flung back. Her luxuriant coils of curls
had become undone and her silky flaxen hair was streaming down like a silver
stream over her bare creamy shoulders. He had released his savage hold on her
breasts and now the full ripe spheres were bobbing from her exertion, the
reddish-brown nipples jutting out like berries, and the brown aureoles were
crinkled in their contracted excitement. His lust-glazed eyes traveled down
the length of her magnificent body, coated with moisture, reveling in the soft
yet supple milkiness of it, the provocative curve of her womanly hips, the
lemon-colored fleece of pubic down which meshed so indistinguishably with his
own. Her long slender thighs were like alabaster columns and Mike could see
that the inner tendons stood out like whipcord against the ivory inner skin.
She continued to grind wildly up and down on his jerking prick, making a
little teasing rotary movement as she rose up. Her fingers slipped around
behind her squirming buttocks and stroked the squirming sac of his testicles
in a sudden swift movement which sent his roiling sperm into a frenzy of
churning liquid deep inside the darkness of his balls.

"Christ, Eve," he panted through the breathlessness of his mounting passion,
"you're... you're incredible!... oh God, keep tickling my balls like that..."

Mike felt a rush of heat that started in the pit of his stomach rise up in an
overpowering curtain and steam through him, and at the same time, his cock
began to jerk uncontrollably and the ache in his writhing balls had become
unbearable.

"AAAAAGGGHHHHHHH... keep fucking... keep fucking... I'm cumming! I'm
CUUUMMMMIIINNNGGGGG... ! ! !"

And then his body was caught up in a gigantic whirlwind, and he thought he
would lose consciousness because a blackness appeared in front of his eyes,
and he felt he was drifting away, but his faltering rationality was arrested
by Eve's own hoarse screams.

"Oh God Mike, I'm cumming too. I'm... AAAHHHHHHH... !!" And she was cumming
too, her pelvis pounding against his like gigantic waves against storm-tossed
rocks. Her fingers were like razor-sharp spears cutting into the flesh of his
hips, and the interior muscle of her vaginal sheath was an insatiable entity
of its own. It was sucking, demanding, and getting, its life-giving quencher
of his thick store of semen, which suddenly began to spurt along the pulsating
tube of his spasming penis and hose hotly up into the heated cavern of her
pussy. Almost immediately it seemed, the frothy liquid trickled back down
around his pumping prick and seeped into the matted pubic curls, already
moistened with the shower of her orgasmic release. The cow was blowing hot
puffs of breath down onto Mike's steaming face, her big liquid brown eyes
staring in boggled amazement at her two temporary stall companions. Her big,
wet white nose just touched Mike's face as the last heave convulsed his dying
prick and he emptied the final drop of his boiling semen into Eve's still
hungrily twitching pussy. At last, the exhausted girl collapsed onto his
panting body, and his now limp prick slipped easily from her wet,
cock-stretched passage.

"That... that was the best fuck I've ever had!" Mike acknowledged gratefully.
And it was. There was something about the spontaneity of the act which
impassioned him to fever pitch, and the girl's own total sexuality, and lack
of restraint, unleashed a similar characteristic in him. "You're quite a girl,
Eve," he added admiringly.

"You're a real man yourself, Boss," Eve praised, smiling down at him. "You
sure know how to please a girl!"

She laid her face down on his chest so he couldn't see her widening grin.
Things are working out just great, she thought happily. She had been thrilled
when she had met her new boss, captivated right away by his virile good looks,
and now she had discovered that he had above average talent in other respects,
too. Yes, she murmured to herself, I think I'm going to enjoy myself very much
on this job!

Sandra threw her corduroy jacket over her shoulders and stepped out into the
yard. There was a slight breeze which alleviated some of the premature heat of
early May, and she began to amble towards the barns. She was glad the house
was a short distance away from them - she didn't think she could stand it if
the animals were milling about directly outside the front door. There was
nobody about and Sandra was grateful for that. She didn't feel like talking to
anyone this morning, and particularly not to Eve, who turned out to be a very
talkative type, always anxious to engage herself or anyone else in
conversation. Sandra had seen her several times talking to Sam in the yard,
and she had caught several glimpses of Mike and Eve laughing intimately
together.

Mike himself had been very incommunicative when she brought up the subject of
the new dairy help and how she was working out. Of course, she reflected,
after that dreadful fight they'd had, she couldn't expect him to confide in
her. She wished now that she hadn't been so hasty in accusing him of being
interested in Eve, that she had kept her suspicions to herself, but the damage
was done, and now she couldn't help thinking that there was something going on
between them. It was several days now since they'd had that fight and Mike
usually tried to make up with her right away after such an argument,
regardless of whose fault it was, but this time, he just didn't seem to care.
That was the part that hurt, he didn't seem to care anymore what she thought
or felt. She felt it was a stroke of luck that he'd gone into town early this
morning and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. It would give her time to think,
and maybe even plan some strategy for getting back in his good books. But if
he is really interested in that girl, I don't know what I'll do, she worried,
afraid she might have gone too far. She hated to admit it to herself, but
there was no denying that Eve was really attractive, and she had a slow,
sensual way about her that Sandra knew was exciting to men. She felt a twinge
of jealousy stab at her, and tried to banish from her mind the nagging
suggestion, almost a certainty, she feared, that like had become involved with
the new dairy maid. No matter what happened, she didn't want to lose Mike. But
should I just sit back and let him play around with that little blonde right
under my nose? she argued. Almost painfully, she thought again of the cache of
pornographic pictures she'd discovered, lewd filthy photographs of Mike in
disgusting positions with different women. The shock of finding them still
affected her, and her subsequent action of getting aroused by them shamed her
through and through. She didn't even allow herself to think of that evening,
when she had shamelessly fingered her own vagina and actually reached a
climax, all from the sensations, evil, wicked sensations, aroused in her by
the vile snapshots. Every time the thought came into her mind, when the memory
tried to torment her, she had brushed them back into oblivion, waiting for
time to erase the sharp-honed edge of her humiliation.

"Good morning, Mrs. Peters," a voice sang out suddenly behind her. It was Sam
Maguire, and Sandra, turning around, saw that he was leading Jacob, the donkey
stallion.

"Good morning, Sam," she replied, feigning cheerfulness, and immediately
turning her attention to the animal. She hated having anything to do with the
hired hand. She never knew what to say to him, always being afraid of sounding
too familiar, or worse still, acting very haughty with him. She began to
stroke the donkey's strong arched neck.

"Jacob seems to be in fine shape," she mused, running her eyes admiringly over
the animal's sleek black and white body.

"All the exercise he gets keeps him trim," Sam smirked, and Sandra turned to
look at him.

"I thought he's kept inside for the season..." Sandra puzzled. The donkeys
were the only animals she was really interested in on the farm, and it was she
who had encouraged Mike to keep them in the first place. They were becoming
very popular everywhere, and top quality foals could fetch very high prices.
They had ten mares, and just this one stallion.

"That's what I mean," Sam leered. "His mares keep him busy, and he sure knows
how to rise that big rod of his. Yes sir," he went on, staring intently at
her, "them she-donkeys sure seem to love that long prick of his shoved far up
in their -"

"How-how dare you!" Sandra gasped, her face scarlet, mortified with
embarrassment at the farm hand's lewd words. Who did he think she was, that he
could talk to her like that, use such filthy language in her presence? Anger
seethed inside her like bubbling oil, threatening to overflow and scald
everything ithin distance. But she managed to control her feelings and said in
a low, even voice, "Please watch your language, Sam. Mr. Peters does not
tolerate obscenities, and I would hate to have to report your despicable
behavior to him." Even to her own ears, her words sounded dictatorial and
stuffy, but her shock was still electrically alive inside her, and she was
incensed at the liberty the worker had taken with her. She had a good mind to
tell Mike, and perhaps even have Sam fired for his insolence.

Sam looked the picture of the abject servant. He held his old cap in his hand,
and his reddish-gray hair glinted in the morning sun. His head was slightly
bent and Sandra saw with satisfaction that his face was suitably blanched with
fear and consternation. Jacob stood by calmly, seemingly totally unaware of
the minor drama his presence had caused.

Without another word, Sandra stalked away, leaving Sam glaring after her.
Fucking bitch, he spat. Can't even take a joke. Well, she'll get her
comeuppance one of these days; I'll see to that! In fact, tonight just might
not be a bad time!

Sandra felt irked by the sound of the back doorbell. She had just settled down
to watch TV, and was looking forward to relaxing for a few hours. She had
spent most of the day in the garden, digging and transplanting the seedlings
she had sown in the spring, and she felt tired and wind burned when she
finally came into the house and fixed a cold supper for herself. The heavy
physical work of gardening had taken her mind off her worries, and now she had
been hoping that the television would do the same, and that she would feel
sleepy after watching a few shows, as she usually did, and that she would then
drop off easily to sleep.

With a sigh, she got up and went through the kitchen and opened the door. She
experienced a flicker of distaste that coupled with her annoyance when she saw
who was there.

"Good Evening, Sam," she said tonelessly, not bothering to hide her
irritation.

"Sorry to bother you, ma'am," Sam muttered, fidgeting with his cap, his eyes
downcast. "But the fuses went in the barn an' I can't see to do my work."

"Well, I think I've got some in the kitchen," Sandra said curiously relieved
that he had a legitimate reason for calling on her so late in the evening. She
found, somewhat to her surprise, that she had a new fear of the farm worker, a
fear born from his distasteful remarks to her that morning. She sensed that
there was an underlying hostility or arrogance in his attitude to her, and
that his disrespect was a form of that aggression.

She noticed with displeasure that he had followed her into the kitchen, and
willing herself to take no notice of him, began to look for the fuses. She
wasn't quite sure where they were and rummaged around in the kitchen drawer.
They weren't there and she knew that they must be on the top shelf of the
kitchen cabinet, where she kept the electric light bulbs.

"I'll get them, ma'am," Sam suggested when she told him, but she declined. She
couldn't stand the thought of his dirty, and she supposed, clumsy hands on her
clean kitchen cupboard, and unable to suppress a sigh, pulled the kitchen
steps over in position. Mounted on the third step, she noticed that Sam had
moved even closer to her so that he was almost directly under her. Thank
goodness I'm wearing slacks she thought as she groped around for the fuses.
Relieved to find them easily, she began to descend, thinking maybe now he'll
go away and leave me alone.

Suddenly, she stiffened. The blood pulsed wildly in her veins and a sudden
wave of heat engulfed her and threatened to overcome her. She just couldn't
believe what was happening. His hands were on her buttocks, feeling them,
squeezing them - he was actually caressing her back there!

She didn't know what to do. Fear washed over her, followed quickly by
revulsion, disgust, anger. She hesitated for a split second on the steps.
Should she order him to stop, or should she just ignore it? If she got angry,
perhaps she might intimidate him, but on the other hand, he was brazen enough
to touch her like that, and he might get violent. But conversely, if she just
ignored him, might he not interpret that as an invitation to continue? Oh God,
what should I do, she wondered wildly. His work-coarsened hands continued
their lewd manipulation of her softly yielding ass cheeks, kneading and
clutching, and it seemed to the agonized woman that an eternity passed in
those few seconds. Then, she could stand it no longer.

"Take your hands off me, you disgusting old man!" she shrieked, almost falling
from the steps in her sudden angry horror. Relieved, she found herself on the
ground once more, and gave vent to her feelings.

"How dare you? How dare you lay your hands on me? I'll see you're fired for
this. Your impertinence today was enough, but you've gone too far this time!"
She stood glaring at him, panting from her exasperated speech, her green eyes
flashing like sparkling emeralds.

"No need for you to get on your high horse with me, lady," Sam leered, an
arrogant sneer on his weather-beaten face, "'cause I know what you're really
like!"

Sandra was thrown off balance by his unexpected retort. She had anticipated
apologies, sullenness, even a denial, but she had not expected him to be so
completely defiant.

"What do you mean?" she asked, striving to keep a condescending tone in her
voice. Her eyes swept contemptuously over his stocky, overalled figure, and
she imagined she saw him cringe under her proud stare.

"H'mm, guess not even your husband knows what you get up to when he's not
around..." he said contemplatively, and Sandra's heart missed a beat. Just
what did he mean? He was acting so strangely, not at all intimidated. She was
beginning to feel worried. There was something menacing about this sudden
change in their hired hand, and her pulse quickened in fear. She thought about
screaming, but knew it was futile, because the other workers were in their
quarters on the far side of the barns, and besides, the television in the
lounge was blaring, and likely to drown out any cries for help she might make.
Sam moved closer to her again, and she drew back suddenly from his insidiously
searching hand which reached out and touched her hip.

"Get-get away from me!" she gasped, her terror mounting.

"C'mon now, honey, I happen to know you need a little lovin'!" Sam rasped, his
eyes roaming freely over her trembling figure.

"I-I don't know what you mean!" she stammered. What was he hinting about?

"Don't play dumb with me, baby, 'cause ol' Sam knows more about you than you
think!" There was a new ominous sound in his voice, an ugly, threatening note.

Sandra's heart raced with fear. He seemed to have something on his mind,
something he was trying to threaten her with.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she said defiantly, hoping to inject
her voice with courage.

"Let's put it this way!" he taunted, rubbing his hands together. "You had a
real nice time cleaning out the office the other day, didn't ya?"

Sandra blanched, and suddenly her throat felt dry. She could only stare in
horrified amazement at the triumphantly grinning figure of the workman. She
just couldn't believe that she had heard him correctly, yet the enormity of
the implication of his remark was slowly etching itself on her disbelieving
brain.

"No... no!" she gasped, unable to stop herself.

"Oh yes!" Sam laughed, delighted at the effect of his bombshell on her. He was
glad he'd waited to drop it on her, strung her out a little first, got her
ready for the big one. "Yessirree," he went on, unable to relinquish his
stunning victory over her, "cleanin' out the office was a real pleasure for
you that day."

Sandra continued to stare in numbed silence at him. Did he know - had he seen
her? Was that what he was hinting at, that he'd seen her looking at those
pornographic pictures, seen her pushing her own panties down to her knees and
fingering herself, seen her reach orgasm?

"What I do is my own business," she said flatly. She felt devoid of all
strength, completely stripped of the will to put in his place this lewd
uncouth worker who was bent on tormenting her.

"It sure is," he conceded, "but I'd say them glossy pictures are Mike's
business, too."

Did he know about the pictures, too? she thought wildly, suddenly desperate to
get away from this vile man.

"Will you please leave?" she said in a tone of quiet command, but Sam only
edged forward, and then suddenly, grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her close
to him. His other arm closed tightly around her, and he peered with lewd
suggestion down at her.

"I could tell you really liked them colored pictures... you got real hotted up
when you looked at them, didn't ya?"

Sandra was paralyzed with fear. She was afraid to struggle, afraid to waken
his real anger, which she sensed was lurking near to the surface of his
demented personality. She decided that if she ignored him, he might get tired
of his little game.

"That one where they were sixty-nining is a real winner, ain't it?" Sam
taunted. "That's your husband in the photograph, and did ya see the size of
his cock jammed into the broad's mouth?" Sandra felt a rush of nausea, and
fought to keep herself from retching. He's insane, her mind screamed, you're
not safe with him... Oh God help me...

"... and did ya see her pussy, all red and juicy and ready? I bet Mr. Peters
really liked getting his tongue in that little hole!"

"Oh stop it! Stop it!" Sandra screamed suddenly, beginning to struggle wildly,
unable to take any more of her captor's leering obscenities.

"What'sa matter, honey?" he leered, his hand tightening roughly around her
breast, crushing it painfully through her cashmere sweater. "Don'cha wanna
talk about them pictures?"

"No, No, please leave me alone!" she whimpered, her reason deserting her and
leaving her a cringing mass of fear and bewilderment.

"How did ya like the one where Mr. Peters was giving it to the blonde in the
ass?" Sam taunted again, and Sandra felt a fresh shudder of revulsion convulse
her. As if by magic, a startling clear reproduction of that vile photograph
leaped into the terrified woman's mind, and she could see the lewd scene
finely etched on her brain - the straining white mounds of the girl's
buttocks, the tiny dark ring of her anus nestled between the creamy spheres;
Mike's hugely distended penis already inserted in the tiny puckered entrance.
She couldn't banish the lurid apparition from her mind, and she felt suddenly
that she was going mad. She wanted to scream, to shriek and wail, do anything
to shatter the terrifying reality which encircled her, a reality of disgusting
perversity, peopled by such lascivious monsters as Sam Maguire and her own
husband, Mike. Part of the revolting present was the hired hand's tight
convulsive clasp on her breast, and even as awareness sunk once more into her
brain, she felt that same hand slip down along the curve of her waist and once
more cup her buttock, squeezing it intimately in a lustful gesture. Sandra
felt totally devoid of control over her own body and mind. Something had
snapped in her when she had finally realized that this lowly farm worker had
witnessed her surrender to her own lewd response to the filthy pictures, and
now she realized his domination over her was complete when he had revealed an
intimate knowledge of those same dirty photographs. Had Mike shown them to his
employee? How many other people had he shown them to? New, more frightening
thoughts alarmed the despondent woman. How long had Sam been aware of Mike's
infidelities? Had Sam felt pity for her, Mike's wife, every time he saw her,
knowing of Mike's secret life?

Sandra was barely aware of Sam's hand insinuating itself into the waistband of
her slacks, flicking open the button, pulling down the zipper. Her racing,
panic stricken mind occupied all her attention. The wife is always the last to
know. The hackneyed statement jumped into her mind, and taunted her. Yes, she
thought bitterly, I was the last one to know - even the farm hand knew before
I did!

Her heart somersaulted inside her as she felt Sam's wandering hand press
against the softness of her belly and move downwards toward the panty-clad
mound of her pubic triangle. Oh God, what is happening? she thought wildly,
really aware for the first time that the farm worker's hand was actually
inside her slacks and was edging down towards her now trembling vagina!

"Oh God, stop it! STOP IT! !" she shrieked, struggling wildly. She couldn't
let this happen - no matter what, she had to stop his lewd advances before
they got any further. Her startling thoughts had thrown her off balance,
putting her off guard, and now, this revolting man was trying to fondle her
down there!

"Hold still, baby," Sam rasped hoarsely, "and let ol' Sam give ya li'l pussy
what your two-timin' husband has been neglectin'."

Sandra stood stock still. Did he know that Mike hadn't made love to her in
weeks? Had Mike told him? Oh God, it was too much to bear! Sam took advantage
of her immobility and eased his hand inside the flimsy nylon protection of her
panties and slipped down to the soft, hair-covered pelt of her vagina. The
fingers hesitated there for a moment before slipping upwards and teasing
slowly into the warm moist furrow of her pussy.

A shudder coursed through Sandra as she felt his hard insistent fingers down
between her thighs on her naked genitals. She felt powerless to move. There
was something irrevocable about his intrusion there - as if there was nothing
to fight any more. He had forced his hand inside her panties - she had allowed
things to get this far - and now, there was nothing she could do about it! She
felt broken, a victim of events initiated by her husband when he had first
started being unfaithful to her. His illicit actions had started the ball
rolling for her subsequent acquiescence to the farm worker's lewd manual play.
It was Mike's fault!

Sam's fingers probed and searched in the softly yielding cuntal folds,
exploring the smooth, slightly pulsating lips, teasing about with confident
insistence. Sandra was surprised at her own reaction to another man's hand
between her legs. She knew it was partly because of her disembodiment from
physical feeling, but couldn't deny that the strange fingers didn't feel bad
down there.

"How d'ya like it, honey?" Sam hissed lewdly, "better than fingerfucking
yourself, isn't it?" Unwillingly, Sandra admitted the memory of her own
frantic fingering of her excited vagina, her scurrilous search for release.
Shame flooded through her at the thought of how she had writhed under her own
probing fingers, how she had squirmed her naked buttocks around lewdly in
orgasm as she plunged her fingers deeper and deeper inside her. What was
happening to her? First, she had enjoyed her own lewd masturbation, and now
she was beginning to like the hired hand's fingers working deeper now up
inside her gradually moistening pussy!

No, it can't be! Her mind screamed, it can't be happening to me! But there was
no doubt now about it - she couldn't deny it. She was beginning to ENJOY Sam's
fingers in her pussy, and in spite of her mind's horror, her traitorous body
was beginning to undulate gently in time to the farm worker's insistent
fingers between her thighs.

Sam felt a surge of triumph on sensing her submission to him. There was no
denying that she was beginning to like it - he could feel a tiny, but sensuous
flexing beginning inside her trembling vagina, and her whole body was
beginning to shiver in anticipatory pleasure. He had won, he, the lowly farm
worker, had succeeded in taming this heretofore haughty wife of his boss, who
had so often looked down her nose at him! He could hardly believe his luck in
catching her playing with herself in front of those dirty pictures of her
husband in the study that afternoon.

Tiny mewls of pleasure began to spew from Sandra's lips and she leaned back
against Sam and began to writhe, her loins churning in simulation of
copulatory rhythm. She was being subjugated by the betrayal in her body, her
will to resist curbed by the greater mastery of desire. Awareness of the
reality of the situation was fading; consciousness of the growing tingle in
her vagina was taking its place.

"How does that feel now, Mrs. Peters?" Sam breathed. "How do my fingers feel
touching your pussy? His other hand was working at her firm rounded breast,
squeezing and tweaking the hard turgid nipple through her sweater. Then, with
a sudden upward movement between her legs, he ground his fingers hard into the
wetly throbbing opening of her cuntal passage and wormed their stubby tips far
up inside her.

"Ooohhhhhhhhhh..." Sandra moaned, jolted by the searing entry, tormented by
the grating of his nails against her sensitive inner membrane. His fingers
continued their wild rotary plundering inside her, and Sandra felt weird new
sensations cavort through her body. Oh God... This is better than when I did
it... she thought helplessly in the daze of her passion, as she pressed her
now hungrily pulsating clitoral bud down on the relieving hardness of Sam's
hand.

"You really love it now, don't you, babe?" he gloated, hardly daring to
believe that this was really happening to him, that his own boss' proud little
wife was really squirming under his manipulation.

"Oh yes," she hissed through passion-clenched teeth, "Oh yes, it feels so
good... Mmmmmmmmm... ! ! !"

Sandra's entire crotch was a throbbing mass of aroused nerve endings, and she
felt as if an uncontrollable fire had been kindled there. Her clitoris felt
round and hard and was pulsing strongly with the heated blood of desire, and
the swollen fleshy outer lips of her hair-lined split were moist with passion.
Chills rippled through her spine which contrasted with the heat which was
rising from her groin, rising up to cover her face and neck in a hot, rosy
flush.

She was moaning uncontrollably now, unconscious of everything but the
delicious pleasure which was seeping into every crack and crevice in her weary
body and infusing her with a joy she hadn't experienced for a long time. She
felt as if she was soaring on the wings of some magical mythical bird which
was flying high and taking her to a warm heavenly place where he could deposit
her in a comfortable nest where nothing or no one would ever harm her again.

And suddenly, she was there, in that unreachable nest, gliding down into a
feather-soft resting place.

"Oooohhhhhhhhh..." she chanted, "I'm there... oh it's so good..." Her hips
were jerking in a heathen rhythm, and she was mashing her vagina down onto Sam
Maguire's tiring hand in ceaseless motion, and her hotly seeping pussy juices
simmered down onto his fingers and lubricated them completely as they
continued to instigate new and exciting pleasure inside her. Then, finally,
when the heated sensations of passion had subsided and her body was reduced to
convulsive twitching, a blanketing peace came over her and suddenly he left
her alone to slumber in her long sought magic nest.

Sandra didn't know how long she was asleep, and it was dark when she woke.
Blindly, she groped her way into the bedroom, and threw herself down on the
bed, not bothering to remove her slacks or sweater. Her slacks were slipping
down around her hips, but she was too tired to care. All the feeling of
pleasure had deserted her body, leaving her an empty shell of misery and
guilt. She could hardly allow her mind to dwell on the disgusting event from
which she was just  recovering, and her brain, almost jeeringly, refused to
even reconsider the delight her body had experienced, but insisted in
emphasizing the lewd aspect of her abhorrent submission to the farm hand's
lewd handling of her naked vagina.

Feelings of self-loathing rose up in her and filled her with contempt for her
own weakness. Kaleidoscopic pictures of her husband in different pictures with
different girls, performing different prurient acts of self-gratification
tripped through her mind, lascivious embroidery on the photographs she had
actually seen, and they tormented her into a state of humiliated frenzy, until
finally she dropped off into a fitful, disturbed sleep, her mind insisting in
a last crippling blow, you're as bad as he is...

"For God's sake, Sandra, will you stop shouting? Do you want everyone on the
farm to hear you?" Mike was getting exasperated. Ever since he'd come back to
the house for dinner, she'd been nagging at him, and it was getting to be more
than he could take. It had been like this for several days now. It seemed to
him that his wife was forever harping on at him, like a harridan, about one
thing or another, and nothing he did pleased her. She seemed to be
particularly distressed ever since he came back from town, and he wondered
worriedly if she had found out about him and Eve. He felt a lightening of his
worry when he thought of his blond dairy helper - if it weren't for her, and
the comfort she gave him over the last week or so, he'd have gone out of his
mind.

"You mean you don't want your little blonde girlfriend to hear, isn't that
it?" Sandra shrieked bitterly. She knew that she was acting like a fishwife,
but she didn't care. The last few days had been hell for her. Tormented with
guilt over the episode with their hired man when she had joyfully reached
orgasm from his manipulation, she had taken out her feelings on her
unsuspecting husband. The fact that he was rather furtive and silent with her
didn't help matters, and although she longed for some sign of warmth from him,
her nagging and complaining prohibited any show of tenderness. Consumed with
guilt over her own infidelity, she had no trouble in imagining her husband to
be engaged in similar action, and she was haunted in particular by the
photographs she had uncovered. She felt she couldn't trust him - he had
concealed a period of stealth and deceit from her, a period when he had had
numerous adulterous affairs, and she had no reason now to think he was not
continuing his old ways.

"You think I don't notice," she went on relentlessly, "but I saw you with your
arm around that hussy yesterday! Where were you taking her? Into the cow-stall
to screw her?"

Mike flinched under her verbal assault. He hadn't realized that she'd noticed
his friendliness with Eve, and hoped that she was only guessing wildly about
what was going on.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Mike retorted, feigning nonchalance, his heart thudding
at the memory of how he had in fact lead Eve towards the hay barn. He tingled
even now at the memory of the passionate fire of their fucking, how her
creamy, resilient body had fused with his as they writhed nakedly together on
the hay, how she had welcomed him inside her with all the certainty of true
womanhood. He shivered as he remembered how her tight, eager young pussy had
felt as it had contracted like warm, throbbing liver around his pumping organ,
how her pliant fleshy breasts felt under his caressing hands, how her full
ripe lips felt as they returned his ardent kiss.

"Hah, you're thinking about her now, aren't you?" Sandra taunted, glaring with
blazing eyes at him. "Have you forgotten about all the others?" She felt a
stab of triumph when she noticed his sudden crimsoning, his quick look of
worried fear.

"You didn't think I knew, did you?" she jeered, enjoying the look of
perplexity that masked his face. She hadn't meant to throw it up to him about
the other women in his life, but somehow, the expression of rapt pleasure he
assumed when she knew he was thinking about HER, unleashed the green-eyed
monster in her, and she couldn't hold back.

"W-what do you mean?" Mike said lamely. A worried knot of agitation was
churning in his stomach, and he had an ominous premonition that Sandra had
found out about his affairs.

"This is what I mean, you cheating bastard!" Sandra snapped, holding aloft a
bundle of photographs, which Mike recognized with a sinking heart. She had
found them!

"Have you forgotten about this blonde," Sandra jeered, waving a snapshot, "the
one you're screwing in the ass?"

Mike blanched under his wife's taunting obscenities.

"That's enough," he said, his voice icy cold.

"What about that cute redhead, the one whose pussy you were licking and
sucking? Have you forgotten her already?" Sandra went on hysterically.

"Give me those photographs, Sandra," Mike commanded calmly, although he was a
turmoil of emotion inside. He had dreaded Sandra ever finding those lewd
incriminations, and told himself that he should have destroyed them. Now he
was paying for his procrastination. He had no idea how he was going to
extricate himself from the results of his indiscretions, but he would worry
about that later. All that mattered now was recovering the snapshots.

"Give-me-the-photographs," he enunciated again, and Sandra felt a quiver of
fear. But she was determined not to give in.

"Like hell I will!" she taunted, and Mike, aggravated by her obstinacy, made a
grab for them. Laughing shrilly, she held them up in the air, and began to
dodge around the sitting room, laughing and tittering at her husband's
attempts to retrieve the snapshots.

"Catch me if you can!" she yelled wildly, ducking behind the sofa. Mike,
snarling with rage, threw himself at the settee, but his agile wife slipped
out from behind it and once more prancing around the room.

"Stop that, you little bitch!" Mike spat, incensed at his wife's mockery of
him. He made another lunge at her, and this time, managed to grab her wrist,
holding her immobile.

"Now give them to me!" he ordered, his breath coming in pants from the
unaccustomed exertion.

"Never!" Sandra gasped, looking wildly around the room and struggling vainly
to escape.

"I'm afraid you've no choice," Mike jeered, give them to me, or I'll take
them." Sandra was desperate. Somehow withholding the coveted snapshots from
him was a symbol of some kind of victory over him, and she wasn't about to
relinquish that so easily.

"I'm waiting, Sandra," Mike intoned, his fingers digging into her wrist.

"Then wait, you son of a bitch!" Sandra snapped, and with a defiant look of
triumph, threw the bundle of lewd photographs onto the burning fire!

"You bitch! You goddamn little bitch!" Mike spat. She had burned his
photographs!

His fingers tightened cruelly around her wrist as he stared at the burning
photos. His raging anger had finally mastered his embarrassed self-reproach,
and her spiteful sarcastic taunts echoed in his mind as the pictures burned,
the glossy sheen curling and distorting the naked forms. As flames engulfed
the mass of photographs, he pulled one away from the burning heap.

With unseeing eyes, he stared at the half-burned snapshot, the two naked
figures on it barely recognizable. Shame and indignation boiled over together
in the cauldron of his emotions, and with a growl, he threw Sandra down
against the large ottoman at the foot of the sofa.

"I'll make you pay for that, you fucking little bitch!" he screamed, clutching
wildly at her cardigan and tearing it open, sending several buttons flying,
and ripping away her bra, revealing her full sensual breasts jutting out
timidly. The sight of their naked glory only seemed to inflame him further,
and he stared at the smooth ivory orbs, his face blushing beet red, and the
cords of his neck stood out like rawhide.

"What do you think of that, eh?" he snarled, thrusting the half-burned picture
in front of his terrified wife's eyes. "Is that what made you so disgusted?"

Sandra tried to turn away from him, but his hand suddenly dipped into her
shiny black hair and wrenched her head around to face the wretched remnant of
snapshot, and as her eyes swam with tears, she could barely make out the
entwining forms on the photo. The figures were distorted and crumpled, but she
could see clearly a thick, blood-expanded penis imbedded in a small dark anal
ring, surrounded by soft white cheeks of deeply impaled buttocks!

Shudders of terror convulsed the cringing woman. She was deathly afraid of the
mountain of anger she had moved in her husband, and was fearful lest he lose
complete control.

"Well, how did you like that?" he shrieked, pointing at the disgusting
photograph.

"Please Mike, I'm sorry, let's..."

"It's too late now to be sorry. You're gonna have to pay for this, you little
bitch. I'm sick and tired of listening to you nag and complain. I've had all a
man can take, you goddamn spoiled bitch!" His teeth were grinding in fury and
his face wore an expression of bestial sadism. With a sudden movement, he
grabbed her thin skirt, and yanked it hard, making the zipper give, so that he
was able to rip it from her body. She lay there cowering beneath her furious
husband, clad only in a thin pair of white lacy panties.

"Oh Mike, please don't!" Sandra whimpered, cringing against the ottoman, her
arms clasped protectively around her breasts, her legs drawn up to protect the
fulcrum of her body.

Mike stood over, a curious lust-satisfied look on his contorted face. "Now
let's see how brave you are!" he taunted, grabbing her again by the wrist, and
throwing her face downward on the leather-covered hassock. Cruelly, he forced
her face down onto the hard leather, his fingers locking in her hair. He could
hear her blubbering into the ottoman, but her terrified fear only incensed
him. His eyes traveled down the milky whiteness of her body, resting on the
graceful flare of her panty-covered hips. He could see the twin orbs of her
silky smooth ass clenched together beneath the flimsy material, and as he
stared, a jeering memory of all the nights of cold, unsatisfying sex he had
experienced with his complaining wife, came back to haunt him, and something
boiled over inside him when he realized that she had been able to make him
ashamed of his own natural masculine instincts. But even as he stared at the
shivering figure of the helpless Sandra, he felt a familiar twinge that began
in the pit of his loins, and rapidly spread to send his pulsating prick
climbing into hard turgidity. He could feel his hardening rod pressuring
against the fabric of his pants, and it was hot and throbbing against his
inner thigh. The realization that she could still excite him, after what she
had put him through, angered him to boiling point.

Angrily, he pulled down the last vestige of decency down over his wife's
curvaceously rounded hips, and discarded the sheer panties on the floor. Her
delicate ass cheeks stood out unprotected, vulnerable, the flicker pattern of
the hearth fire shining over her soft polished flesh. Barely discernible
between her quivering legs was the soft dark fleece of her pubic hair, and
beneath it the faint sheen of her trembling little vaginal split.

Breathing hard, Mike placed his hands on the quivering spheres of alabaster
flesh, and slowly drew the palpitating mounds apart. Staring for a moment at
the crinkled brown ring of her little rectum, Mike reached forward and probed
experimentally at it with his finger. "Oooohhhhhh... ! !" Sandra jerked
forward as though she had been prodded by a hot coal. The high sprawling
ottoman blocked her effort to draw away, and there was nothing she could do
but submit. Mike's fingers were worming mercilessly up between the tender
globes, holding her painfully in place. Sandra felt resistance drain from her.
Her body was helpless, to be used as he desired - the responsibility was out
of her control.

Mike ran his hands slowly up her smooth inner thigh all the way to the
hair-lined lips of her moistened cunt.

"Mmmmm..." he slavered, his balls tingling with renewed excitement. There was
something luridly arousing about the submissively kneeling posture of his
wife, and he felt a soaring feeling of power as he sensed her terrified
acquiescence. His palms spread over the smooth glossy ass-cheeks, cupping them
firmly and slowly pulling them even further apart. The skin around her anus
was straining outward as he pulled tighter and his fingers probed sharply at
the puckered little ring like punishing electric needles.

"C'mon," he rasped bitterly, "spread 'em wide, real wide!" Sandra moaned under
her husband's crude demand. She tried weakly to flare her buttocks, to do what
he asked her, ever fearful of arousing his violent temper.

Mike continued to tease at the puckered little circle with his finger,
relishing her agonized cringe against the unnatural contact, while his other
hand kneaded without mercy at the soft buttock mounds. Bending his reddened
face downward, he lashed out with his long moist tongue, and swept it along
the length of the quivering crevice, leaving a shimmering wet saliva path
between her trembling globes. Sandra couldn't control a shudder of revulsion
on feeling his tongue there, and she could barely suppress a gasp as he
suddenly bit viciously into her pliant buttocks, covering the soft sensitive
flesh with sharp little bites. Then his pointed tongue was probing at the tiny
exposed anal mouth, testing and teasing, trying to stretch the
tightly-clenched, unyielding ring of her asshole.

"Oh my God, my God," Sandra sobbed, why is he doing that to me? Is this really
my own husband torturing me like this?

Mike was jubilant when he heard her fresh sobs. That'll teach the little bitch
to play games with me, he thought venomously, suddenly ripping down the zipper
of his pants, and releasing the long swollen length of his lust-hardened cock.
He sighed with relief from the feeling of freedom as the hotly throbbing rod
jutted up proudly in the air. Stretching the straining white buttocks even
more, he lay the full length of the palpitating member between her open
ass-globes, resting the smooth bloated head against the tight little opening
of her anus. Gleefully, he began to slide his heavy protuberance up and down
the exposed brownish valley, a drop of premature semen lubricating the
hungrily searching tip.

He placed the swollen head of his blood-engorged penis against the small
hairless opening, and aided by his insistent fingers, the giant rod began to
push and buffet against her nakedly defenseless rectum.

Although she tried to suppress the nauseating thought, Sandra was struck by
the realization of what her husband had in mind for her. He was going to try
to sink his huge hardened penis into her rectum! IT WOULD KILL HER! How could
she take it? It would tear her in half - the pain would drive her out of her
mind. And worst of all was the realization that her husband was really capable
of this depraved act!

Her dazed thoughts ran back to those horrible photographs. Etched on her mind
irrevocably was the image of his animalistic penetration anally of that lewd
blonde - the look of debased pleasure on her face. Sandra shivered in
revulsion and as she did, her tiny puckered sphincter brushed against her
husband's rock-hard prick, electrifying her with the insistent reality of her
own shamefully kneeling position.

Tears ran from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. She began to sob, low
whining sounds, and struggled weakly to release her behind from her husband's
sadistic grip.

"Shut up and hold still!" Mike snarled, and Sandra forced a stop to the
convulsive quivering of her body. With a sudden, vicious lunge, Mike tried to
shove his hot, throbbing prick through the tight rubbery opening. But it
wouldn't go! It was too big! It pushed harshly against the unyielding membrane
and Mike cursed softly at his momentary defeat. Sandra was shaking; she
couldn't expect any escape from the depraved act that was to be performed on
her. She only clenched shut her eyes, trying not to think, hoping that
whatever was going to happen to her, would happen fast and be over with. For
the very first time in her married life, she was desperately, deathly afraid
of her husband, and she quaked under her terrifying fear.

Her face was numb from being pressed down into the leather and her whole body
ached from the cramped awkwardness of her position. For a moment, a split
second, she had been relieved that his huge penis had failed to pierce her
anal passage, and had nurtured the faint hope that he would give up his
disgusting intention. But he was trying again!

"AAAAARRRGGGHHHHHHHH...! ! Oh God, stop it!" A blinding, tearing pain shot up
her back bone. She felt a slight popping sensation at her anus and... OH GOD,
HE WAS IN! Her own husband was raping her rectum! The startling pain took away
her breath. The stretching, groping in her back passage was unbearable - as if
someone were trying to plug her up back there with a huge barrel cork.

Mike was surprised at the virginal tightness of her anal passage. He hadn't
expected so much resistance and his anger had steadily mounted as his patience
drained away. His hard insistent cock was demanding satisfaction, and now he
had finally inserted it just inside the tight rubbery circle.

The lust-maddened husband lurched forward again, sinking more of the enormous
shaft into his wife's tiny tortured rectum.

"UUUGGGHhhhhhhhnnnnnnnn... oh no! NOOOOooooooo..."

Sandra's pelvis bucked and jerked against her husband's maniacal impaling, the
barbaric pain giving her new strength. Futility, she twisted and gyrated,
trying to shake off the brutal skewering of her flesh, but Mike only grinned
lasciviously and inserted his massive cock farther into her inflamed back
passage, drilling mercilessly up the virginal channel.

Violent, shattering pain racked Sandra's body and choked sobs caught raspingly
in her throat. She was hopelessly caught on his merciless rod. Mike pulled at
her hips in a relentless, inflexible grip, flexing his loins as he inched even
deeper into her tightly resisting sheath. She squirmed desperately, tugging
her severed ass cheeks away from his granite-hard member, but her struggles
only helped to bury the devastation of the advancing cock further into her
agonized rectal canal. The stiff circumference of her husband's cock stretched
the tender ring of her ass until it seemed to clutch in helpless desperation
at the huge pole and suck it even deeper into its violated interior.

"Oh Mike, please stop! please stop... I can't stand it!" she sobbed piteously.

But Mike only gritted his teeth, and with a final savage grunt, ground the
full length of his monstrous shaft into her tortured passage. He had buried
the full length of the elongated rod in her soft, brutalized flesh!

Mike hesitated for a second, enjoying the tight, inflamed throbbing of his
wife's sensitively throbbing rectum around his deeply imbedded prick. Then he
began a slow, abrasive pulling out of the extended shaft. His withdrawal along
the stolen path brought fresh moans of new pain from his tormented wife,
pulling it out until just the swollen bulbous head alone remained engulfed by
the clinging flesh of her ass. Then, closing his eyes in lustful pleasure, he
once again rammed its merciless bulk into her now forever stretched anal
channel, feeling the smooth buttery cheeks of her whitely rounded buttocks
settle quivering around his hardening balls, as he once more sunk every inch
of it in her tortured depths. He began a slow sawing motion in and out of her,
the movement becoming easier as her distended rectum relaxed a little and
allowed his rummaging cock to pursue its bestial rape.

Sandra moaned and whimpered as he sodomized her, her body lost in a labyrinth
of pain. She had never felt so totally abased and humiliated in her life. Not
even Sam, the hired hand's, lustful fingerfucking of her naked vagina compared
to the ignominy of this horrible anal rape by her own husband. She wished that
the ground would swallow her up, because she didn't think she could ever hold
her head up again.

Mike continued his illicit fucking, his pile-driving pelvis pounding against
her upturned backside, his leaden penis churning deeper and deeper into the
softness of her violated interior, slapping his loins against her wet
buttocks, his mind lost in the abandoned perversity of the vicious anal
fucking he was giving her.

His breath stiffened and he began to gasp in short rasping snorts. His cock
ached beyond belief and seemed to inflate even more as the sperm, boiling in
his steaming, writhing balls, clamored for release.

The massive rod began to slice faster and faster in and out of the wide
stretched rectum, and Sandra tried to ease the cramped muscles of her
buttocks, to lessen if she could the excruciating pain. She felt her husband's
hands clutch even more convulsively into her now slightly bruised buttocks,
roaming over her hips. His pelvic thrusts pounded wildly against her numbed
and flattened ass cheeks hard against her hip bones as he began to shout
strange growling sounds, mingled with threats and lewd obscenities.

His body stiffened, swiveled only at the hips, his toes dug against the floor.

"Hump back, bitch... move your fucking goodie, goodie ass..." He shrieked
insanely through tightly clenched teeth. "Oh God, I'm cumming now, I'm
cuummmiiinnnggg in your asshole...!!! AAAGGGHHHHHHH...!!"

He buffeted against her, a final breathtaking clap of flesh against flesh, his
lust-stiffened rod knifing into unfathomed depths of her agonized rectum. A
scalding white-hot stream of liquid shot into her hotly clenching anus,
searing the mercilessly ravaged membrane. He jerked against her like a rag
doll shook by an angry child, her thighs and buttocks crushed by the violence
of his final assault, as he emptied the full measure of his thick burning
semen into her forever-stretched anal passage.

Then he fell forward, flattening the lovely curves of his wife's body under
his distended bulk.

She lay there, dry sobs convulsing her as his softening penis slid out of her
wet, sperm-flooded anus, feeling soiled, dirtied forever by her husband's
vengeful attack on her helpless anus, her bowels gurgling slightly from the
heated pool of it he had hosed up into her.

Sandra lavishly applied the black eyeliner, rimming her clear green eyes
heavily. Coupled with the woody brown eye shadow she had smoothed onto her
eyelids, she had achieved a stunning effect, and her eyes had a hazy,
smoldering look. Several coats of black mascara on her long dark lashes
completed her eye make-up, and she decided to have another cup of coffee
before putting on her lipstick.

She poured herself a cup from the still-simmering coffee pot, and added a
liberal dash of brandy. She liked the combination, and felt herself beginning
to relax as she leaned back against her chair, relishing the steaming aromatic
brew. It was her third such cup already this morning, and she was glad that
she had decided to add brandy, because its tranquilizing effect was salve to
her troubled soul. She knew she was also feeling a little better because Mike
would be out for the day, supervising the laying down of a new electric fence
at the boundary of their property. The last few days had been hell for Sandra.
Mike had tried several times to make up with her, apologizing for his dreadful
behavior, but somehow, Sandra felt she had passed the point of no return. She
felt a shudder of revulsion every time she looked at her husband, and the
memory of the bestial anal assault he had perpetrated on her seared her brain
like a branding iron, giving no respite to her jumbled thoughts of revenge and
hate. She had retreated into herself since that terrible evening, refusing to
listen to his feeble explanations, her hurt and disgust feeding and
strengthening the anger that was germinating inside her, a slow, seething
anger that wouldn't be appeased quickly. This morning again, just before he
left for the day, Mike had lost his temper with her once more.

"All right, have it your way!" he'd yelled, "If you want to sulk like a child,
go ahead. But don't expect me to get down on my hands and knees to you."

"And don't forget, you're not exactly a model wife yourself!" he'd hurled at
her as he slammed the door. His last rebuke had stung most of all. Her husband
had bit nearer the truth than he'd imagined. Her record wasn't exactly
spotless, she thought bitterly, remembering her unadulterated ecstasy as Sam
Maguire had fingered her freely in the secret confines of her eager vagina. A
shudder ran through her now as she involuntarily relived the scraping,
titillating feel of his coarsened fingers as they slid up the tight,
contracting sheath of her cuntal passage, how his hard hand felt as it
squeezed mercilessly on her breasts, evoking a strange sort of pleasure
through the unbearable pain. Many times during the past week, Sandra had
puzzled over her mind and body's acquiescence to his lewd handling, wondering,
in the clear light of following days, how she could have let herself give in
to him. She realized that he had thrown her completely off balance by his
disclosure that he had watched her through the office window as she had made
herself experience orgasmic release with her own fingers, and also the fact
that he seemed to be intimately familiar with those pornographic pictures had
stunned her. But she forced herself to admit that in addition, he had
overpowered her by his self-assurance, and his crude masculine way of
dominating her. Again she felt a tingle chill her spine as she recalled his
roughness with her, his complete disregard for her expressed feelings. There
was something perversely exciting to her, she acknowledged now as she finished
her coffee, in the way he had treated her, even abused her.

There was little pinpricks of fire niggling between her legs and she realized
that she had been grinding her pubic region down unconsciously against the
upholstery of the chair in a lewd rhythmic motion. She stood up, swaying a
little and had to steady herself against the table. Her head felt pleasantly
afloat, and her body felt warm and light. She made her way back to the
bedroom, and hurriedly applied a vivid splash of lipstick and ran her brush
through her gleaming hair. She had no clear idea of what she was going to do,
but the thought foremost in her mind was a desire for revenge. She had to
retaliate on Mike for the unforgivable thing he had done to her! There was
something else, too, a gnawing aching emptiness deep inside her, like a worm
eating away at her. Her body felt restless and taut, and she knew it was
because she had not made love for several weeks. She had become accustomed to
regular sexual intercourse during the years of her marriage and her body was
reacting to this neglect. Mike wasn't interested in her anymore, that was
obvious. But Sam was! There was no denying that the farm worker was definitely
interested in her and her flagging ego in its desperation found the thought
not unattractive. She suddenly longed for masculine attention, a little
appreciation of her as a woman, even a little flirting!

Almost without realizing it, she wandered out of the house and found herself
in the yard. The brightness of the sun seared her eyes and made her feel a
trifle dizzy, but she became accustomed to it after a few moments and began to
feel better. She was wearing a light cotton knit dress which she knew was too
short for her, really, falling as it did to just the top of her thighs. The
light material stretched tightly across her full, unconfined breasts, and she
knew that the horizontal stripe pattern added to the general provocativeness
of the dress.

She found, to her mingled dismay and surprise, that she was almost desperately
looking for Sam, her eyes darting back and forth among the scattered
outbuildings, trying to catch a glimpse of his burly figure. He was no where
in sight, and feeling a pang of disappointment, Sandra began to head back for
the house. What do I care if I see him or not? I'm not interested in a mere
farm worker, she told herself, walking slowly in the direction of the house.

Then she heard his voice, calling the dog, coming from the direction of the
barn where the recently calved cows were housed. Her heart began to pound in
her ribcage, and she had to stop herself from running over to the shed. What's
come over me? she asked herself, acting like a lovesick teenager!

She stood in the doorway, and peered around in the dim interior.

"Morning, Mrs. Peters!" Sam's gruff voice rang out, and the dog suddenly
rushed up to her, sniffing excitedly at her ankles, his big shaggy tail
wagging furiously.

"Down, King," Sam ordered, and the friendly collie crept away unhappily, and
lay down by Sam's feet.

"Hello, Sam," Sandra replied, her voice stiff and unnatural. Her hands felt
clammy, and she was sure there were beads of perspiration on her face. I
shouldn't have come here! She fought to control a wave of fear which was
swelling inside her, the man's quietness, the still, dusky interior of the
barn, frightening her unreasonably.

"That's some dress you're wearing, Ma'am," Sam praised, and Sandra found
herself flushing.

"T-thank you, Sam," she floundered, not knowing what to say.

"Well, what can I do for you this morning?" Sam drawled, an arrogant note in
his voice. Sandra could only see the glowing tip of his cigarette - the rest
of him was lost in the murkiness of the barn. It irritated her that he could
see her clearly, silhouetted against the doorway, and exasperated, she stepped
inside.

She almost stumbled, her feet unaccustomed to the deceptive softness of the
straw, and she had to put a hand out on the rough wall to steady herself.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked, and Sandra froze when she realized that his
voice was closer, much closer. Her eyes were dazzled by the brilliant sunshine
and she just couldn't see a thing!

"W-where are you?" she asked in a small voice, fear suddenly taking hold of
her again.

"AAAGGGHHHHHHH... ! ! !" Sandra screamed as she felt strong hard arms around
her, clasping her tightly, and then tobacco-scented breath hot on her face.

"Stop it! Let me go!" she hissed, struggling desperately to escape as her
courage to go through with her plan faded in her mind.

Then his mouth was on hers, his lips bruising against hers in a sweltering
unrelenting kiss, his tongue, wet and hard pressing against her teeth, forcing
entry, coupling lewdly with her own mutinous tongue. Sandra was fighting for
breath as just as suddenly as she had begun, she ceased to struggle under the
farm worker's illicit embrace. All fight went from her body, and as her fear
diminished, she realized that she was beginning to enjoy being grasped roughly
in her husband's employee's arms, to enjoy his hard grinding kiss on her
tender lips. His tongue swirled around in her velvety mouth, and he was
crushing her breasts against his chest, and Sandra could feel the hem of her
tight dress riding up on her hips. She gasped as she felt Sam's knee pry apart
her thighs, and then moaned involuntarily as she felt the bony kneecap rub
unremittingly against the burning zone of her vagina. His crude caress awoke
the sparks that had kindled in her sensitive pussy earlier that morning and
she found herself grinding her throbbing warm flesh against the hardness of
his knee. It seemed to her as if the kiss lasted an eternity, and then,
abruptly, he threw her down on a bed of straw, and Sandra fell clumsily, her
legs sprawling uncontrollably.

Sam smiled to himself as he stared for a moment at the spread-eagled woman. He
caught an enticing gleam of white panties up between her legs as she fell, and
a shiver of anticipation coursed through him. His eyes were riveted on the
expanse of smooth milky thigh which be could see clearly, accustomed as he was
to the dim light, and his prick gave an excited spasm. His mouth was on fire
from the passion of their kiss, and it was all he could do to restrain himself
from pouncing on her and taking her right then and there. But he had other
plans for his boss' hot pants little wife. He knew right away what was on her
mind when he had seen her standing in the doorway, barely covered in that
scrap of a dress, her face painted like some street slut. She wants cock,
that's what she wants, even if she's fightin' it, and ol' Sam is only too
ready to oblige the boss' wife!

Sandra lay panting on the ground, her dress still askew, hardly daring to
move. She felt helpless. His kiss had overwhelmed her, and although she wanted
to get up and run from this dreadful place, she just couldn't. She quivered as
she felt his hands on her again, feeling, squeezing, caressing, running down
the length of her flattened body, sending coarse shivers of pleasure rippling
through her awakening flesh. She sucked in her breath as she felt the
roughness of his palm on her naked thigh, felt it slither up the smooth creamy
skin, realized that his fingers were tugging at the soft flimsy material of
her panties. Her head was spinning, the brandy she had gulped down taking a
loosening carefree effect on her. She found her hips arching, to help him ease
off the thin nylon panties, and in a daze, she felt them sliding down over her
hips and thighs to her ankles, where they were discarded in a useless little
heap on the hay.

"Mmmmmmmm..." she sighed as she felt his thick fingers graze against the
softness of her palpitating pussy lips, felt their tips dip against the
growing moistness of her velvet soft folds. She felt his hot breath as he
peered down at her, and then he plunged his middle finger into the wet,
viscous hole of her trembling cunt, and she jackknifed against him, her legs
shooting out on either side, to allow his invading fingers deeper and easier
access to the mounting furnace of her tight hot pussy. His fingers groveled
around in the slippery channel of her cunt, drubbed the hardened knob of her
blood-filled clitoris, searched and probed among the secret wet crevices and
creases of her nubile young vagina. Her entire body felt aflame, and she was
lost in lust, oblivious of the fact of how lewdly she was sprawled on the
straw, how obscenely she spread her legs to allow the workman to allow. It was
what she wanted, the feel of male hands on her body, to feel the rising beat
in every pore of her flesh which signaled the coming of the climax for which
her love-starved body craved. She didn't really care whose hands were
manipulating her crotch, whose fingers were whirling around inside her
buttery-soft cuntal sheath. She didn't care what happened! All she wanted was
the joyous ecstasy of release, and oh God, she was going to get it!

Sam smirked down at the twitching, writhing body spread out below him. God,
the high and mighty little bitch is really getting hot, she's really ready for
it now! Let's see what she thinks of the surprise Uncle Sammy has for her...

He withdrew his fingers from the excitedly pulsating lips of her pussy and he
heard her gasp with disappointment.

"Oh please, don't stop now... I'm nearly there..." the passion-wracked woman
sighed piteously.

Sam gave a laughing leer, and then snapped out: "Here, King!"

Sandra, in the throes of her thwarted orgasm, heard uncomprehendingly Sam's
command, and felt near to tears from her so nearly won climax. Oh, if only he
hadn't stopped...

Then, it started again! Only this time, it was a thick wet tongue, warm and
curling, that was slavering along the quivering folds of her passion-inflated
pussy, sending eddies of new pleasure drifting through her. She felt a
momentary stab of horror at the thought of a tongue licking so intimately up
between her open legs, but it was lost in the wave of pleasure which engulfed
her, and eagerly, she thrust her pelvis upward, grinding her bare bottom
against the straw, bumping in crude tempo with the frantic licking of the
demonic tongue.

"Oh God Sam, it feels so good, so good she sighed, unable to control the
spasms of ecstasy convulsing her. She had to have more of it, she had to have
that tongue deeper inside her, had to feel it in every tiny nerve end of her
excitedly flooding pussy...

Savagely, her hands reached down to force his face further and harder down on
the burning fulcrum of her body... Instead of Sam's wiry red hair, her hands
met with soft silky fur, long, satin-haired ears...

"OH GOD NOOOOOOOOO..." Her scream shattered the silence of the barn as it
reverberated throughout the high-ceilinged shed.

"Yes, I have to admit I belong to the 'Ban DDT' camp," Jeff McLean drawled as
he sipped the Scotch and soda Sandra had fixed for him. He leaned back
comfortably in the wing chair, and Sandra found herself thinking how
attractive the veterinarian looked, his handsome face boyish under his mop of
dark brown hair.

"I admit it has its drawbacks," Sandra replied thoughtfully, "but surely its
usefulness outweighs any disadvantages."

She felt curiously elated, a girlish thrill surging through her as she talked
with McLean. He had lingered in the kitchen after attending to the cows,
giving them their annual Tuberculosis test, and had accepted with alacrity her
offer of a drink. She felt like a new woman as she talked with him, his
comparative urbanity infusing her with liveliness, and his intelligent
conversation starting the wheels of her own brain turning slowly.

"Its usefulness!" McLean laughed sardonically, getting his drink down. "Do you
call polluting the land and sea useful? Not only does DDT destroy fish life,
it is also beginning to poison the phytoplankton in the ocean. Do you realize
what that means?"

"Not exactly," Sandra had to admit, secretly enjoying his indignation.

"It's from phytoplankton that we get almost 50 per cent of oxygen
replenishment," he explained. "We are on our way to suffocating ourselves with
that damn DDT!"

Sandra took another sip on her drink.

"But what about the wonders DDT has worked with malaria in Ceylon, for
example," she suggested, remembering an article she had read recently.

"Modern technology is one of the casual factors of the world's troubles. The
universe is a hard task master and only the fittest should survive. Merely
keeping millions alive so they can live another day with a pain in their
bellies from hunger is doing them no favor!"

"But almost a billion people have been saved from malaria over the last
twenty-five years or so," Sandra exclaimed. "Should they have been left to die
or waste away, for the sake of a few fish and water plants?"

"Of course not," McLean answered indignantly, "but a little foresight should
have been used. Merely spraying the Anopheles mosquito isn't the answer;
provision in the way of family planning, agricultural instruction and so on
should have been made to take care of the extra millions. Instead we are bent
on ruining what we have!" He finished his drink in a long swallow. "You can
see that the subject is really one of my beefs!" he laughed.

"People should care!" Sandra said carefully. "Living in the country-side, we
tend to forget the problems of the world because we are so insulated and free
from them all."

"Besides," McLean interrupted, "a beautiful woman like you shouldn't have to
worry about such things!"

Sandra flushed pink with pleasure under his frank compliment. She did look
very attractive, she knew, and was pleased that the veterinarian had noticed
it. She felt a rush of gratitude to him for being interested in her mind,
also, and felt that even her thoughts and opinions were beginning to reflect
the freedom and lucidity she was experiencing through her body. Ever since
that morning last week, when Sam had taken her so harshly in the stable, her
life had undergone a change. The rough workman had unleashed a torrent of
sensual desire in her, which could only be dammed by his urgent, passionate
lovemaking. She had adapted herself thoroughly to a new regime of wild,
unusual sex out in the barn with Sam, tinged always with a sense of urgency
and illicitness, and she could hardly remember what it was like before. Her
body never seemed to get enough of him, and he always succeeded in arousing
her to fever pitch, making her more frenzied, more demanding, more willing
each time. Yes, I'm really a new woman now, she mused as she rose to fix new
drinks. Her hips had a new provocative swing to them, she knew and she was
aware of the vet's eyes on her enticing buttocks. She was revitalized by Sam's
attentions, his body, his hands, and she had begun to take a new interest in
herself, discarding her country casuals, and wearing new slinky type dresses,
low cut blouses, curve clinging pants outfits. She had even begun to pin her
hair up occasionally, even though it wasn't really long enough, and letting
little tendrils fall down becomingly over her smooth cheeks. She had someone
who cared how she looked now, she reasoned, feeling younger, more attractive,
more wanted than she had for years. Mike didn't seem to notice the change in
her, or if he did, he didn't say anything. In fact, he didn't seem to say much
at all lately, and Sandra had felt pronounced relief when he said curtly that
he'd be away for a few days, buying new stock for the farm. That was two days
ago, and she had enjoyed hours in her husband's bed of unworried abandon in
Sam's arms. Already her brow darkened at the thought that her husband would be
back the following day.

But her smile brightened again when she brought the drinks in and handed one
to McLean.

"You've certainly changed since I saw you last!" Jeff smiled, running his eyes
admiringly over her pale pink silk dress, which she had artlessly left
unopened to reveal the tops of her translucent ivory breasts. His last visit
was three months ago, and Sandra remembered how dowdy and unhappy she'd been.

"For better, or worse?" she quipped brightly.

"Better, of course, much better!" Jeff laughed, "Mike must be really taking
care of you!"

Sandra blushed, and to hide her confusion, enjoined, "Country air must be good
for me!"

"Yep," McLean agreed, "a spell in the country works wonders for anyone! People
change their views on a lot of things after a rural sojourn."

Sandra took a long swallow on her drink, hoping Jeff wouldn't notice her
discomfiture. Guilt about her liaison with the farm worker came so suddenly
and abruptly to the fore that she was sure he must suspect something.

"But you're still a city girl at heart, aren't you, Sandra?" McLean said, a
new note in his voice. Before Sandra realized, he was leaning over her, her
forearms grabbed tightly in his hands. His breath was warm on her face and his
mouth was looming closer.

"No, stop!" she gasped, struggling to escape his over-powering grip.

"Hey, what's the matter? I thought you might like a little city loving after
all that pastoral stuff!"

Sandra's mind was reeling. What had come over him?

"Let me go, Jeff!" she said, her voice quietly authoritative. Anger stirred in
McLean's taut body.

"Now wait a minute!" he snapped. "Don't give me any of that innocent crap! I
know you're hot for me - why not admit it!"

Sandra's heart pounded wildly in her chest. She had found him attractive, it
was true, but that was as far as it went... wasn't it?

"Please Jeff..." she began.

"You're not so standoffish with Maguire, are you?" he demanded, rage boiling
hot inside him.

Sandra gasped, her face crimsoning. Did he know? Could he have found out?

"W-what do you... mean?" she whispered, frightened and tremulous.

"You know what I mean, honey," he rasped, squeezing her tighter, "and you can
give me a little of that pussy of yours too!"

"H-how dare you?" she stammered, unable to suppress her irritation. He knew,
that was obvious!

"Listen, baby," he snapped, "I get a taste of that hot little cunt of yours,
or Mike will suddenly find out all about your little game with Maguire. What
would he say to that?"

Sandra shivered at the change in the man's voice. It seemed cruder, more
ominous. All the polished suavity was gone from it, and now it was edged with
lust. Mike would kill her if he found out! The thought stood stolidly in her
mind. What can I do?

Suddenly, his mouth bore down on hers, he was pushing her down on the couch
and kissing her in a hard, bruising oral embrace which reddened her lips and
trapped her breath. Everything vanished from her mind, fled from the
overwhelming power of his kiss, and her arms reached up and encircled his neck
while her lips strained against his, clinging desperately to them. Her nipples
stiffened under the thin dress, jutting against his chest, and his hands
slipped down and ran expertly over her back, her hips, her thighs. Her lips
parted to admit his swirling tongue into her hot orifice, and she quivered
under the force of the passion he was beginning to arouse in her. She felt
resistance fall away from her body, and she felt a mild protest forming in her
brain.

"No, this is wrong," she murmured, feebly trying to free herself from McLean's
unrelenting embrace. "I can't let another man do it to me!"

"Come on now, honey," he whispered in her ear, "you're a little more generous
with Sam... Mike wouldn't like you to be stingy with me..."

Mike! He'd tell Mike if she didn't comply... As she hesitated, she was aware
of his hands fumbling at the buttons of her dress, opening them all the way
down... his hands suddenly on the eager orbs of her throbbing breasts... her
nipples burgeoning hungrily into his palms... Her eyes dropped involuntarily
to the growing bulge between his legs. She could almost see the protuberance
of his pulsating organ growing before her eyes, and a stab of longing coursed
through her. Her eyes drank in the sight of his broad, strong shoulders, his
firm sensual torso, his cruel exciting lips... and then dropped again to the
fleshy promontory between his thighs. Her body began to ache with sudden
intensity - every nerve ending seemed to tremble with suppressed desire. Oh
God, it was no use... her body was too strong for her... she wanted this
man... she wanted this strong, virile male, just like he wanted her!

Jeff sensed her acquiescence, his half-closed eyes mesmerized by the enticing
sight of her half naked body, its shimmering whiteness like fine marble
against the Giorgone-like sheen of her silk dress. His prick was pulsating
fervently against his leg, branding his flesh with its hot passion. He exulted
in his victory over her, her obvious desire for him. Sam's right, he mused,
she's a hot little bitch! He had been skeptical when Sam, barely suppressing
his excitement, had blurted out to him the details of his incredible affair
with the young farm wife. He had imagined that it might be wishful thinking on
his part, but Sandra had seemed to be upset by his references to the farm
worker, and now, she was mewling with excited desire! A change certainly had
come over her, he thought, remembering the uncooperative disinterested wife
he'd first met six months ago, and on his subsequent visit three months later,
her shabby, gone-to-seed appearance. Nevertheless, he'd been interested in
what lay beneath that dowdy exterior, but of course, had never dreamed of
finding out, not until today, of course! And now, he certainly was going to
find out...

Sandra sighed as she felt his mouth close over the crest of one trembling
upright breast, his soft firm lips enveloping the tender throbbing flesh of
her turgid nipple. She became vibrantly alive under his touch, excited and
aroused as she felt the nearness of his heated masculine body. She could feel
the bloated strength of his still-encased penis as it pulsed against her thigh
and her loins began a tentative churning in time to the internal palpitations
that were caressing her desire-ridden flesh. His mouth was trailing down her
body, licking and kissing her warm, pliant flesh, glorying in her naked
offering to him. His eyes fell lustily over the dark ebony fleece of her
slightly raised pubic mound, and he felt an impatient tremor spasm through
him. Christ, this is going to be good... he murmured passionately, his hand
fiddling with the fly of his pants.

Sam gripped the edge of the window sill, his eyes bulging, his nostrils
dilated with anger. He had to stifle a bellow of rage as he stared in
disbelief at what was transpiring in the Peters' living room.

Sandra's eyes jumped to the huge, fleshy rod of the veterinarian's cock as he
eased it out of the confines of his pants. The excitedly hardened head gleamed
a bluish-purple and the lengthy red base seemed to pulse with hot, angry
blood. She felt a quiver of anticipatory fear mingled with masochistic
pleasure as she continued to stare mesmerized at the lewd instrument, which
McLean was obscenely encouraging to even greater proportions with crude
caresses of his powerful hands. Unconsciously, she spread her legs a little
wider, arching her pussy up in a primitive invitation to his waiting cock.

Christ, the fucking little bitch really wants it, Sam thought viciously, his
own prick throbbing inside his work pants as he pressed against the outside
wall, his face riveted to the glass of the sitting room window.

Jeff's gaze was riveted on the entrancing sight of Sandra's flexed pussy
mound, barely concealing an enticing gleam of moist pink flesh between the
swollen fleshy outer vaginal lips. He could see the red, lust-angered knob of
her clitoris nestling beneath the crown of darkly resilient curls, and a faint
pulsing drew his hypnotized gaze to the small, clasping little hole of her
cuntal mouth.

"Oh, Christ, Sandra," he rasped hoarsely, "I'm going to fuck you now..."

Sandra's blood quickened on hearing his lewd, lust-inflamed words, and her own
yearning magnified on realizing the extent of his animalistic passion.

She felt him settle between the insides of her widespread, welcoming thighs,
felt the nudge of his rubbery hard pole against her sensitive inner skin, felt
the first jarring contact of his rigid, impermeable shaft against the delicate
folds of her waiting cunt.

McLean slowly guided the solid rod of flesh towards the small, star-shaped
cuntal mouth, and poised it there for a moment, the knobby distended head
pressing lightly against the fragile membrane. Then he rammed forward with all
his might, and sunk his petrified weapon with a single lurch in the depths of
the flabbergasted woman.

"Oh no, it's too big... it hurts... !" Sandra sobbed, feeling her interior
vaginal wall stretch with painful intensity from the huge mass of granite hard
flesh imbedded inside her.

Sam stared dumbfounded at the spectacle of the skewered woman, his eyes welded
on the sunken shaft barely protruding from Sandra's ovally stretched vaginal
hole.

McLean continued to plow forward, his massive prick tunneling effortlessly
through her widening channel until the huge head came to rest at the mouth of
her cervix. His hands dipped down and grasped the fleshy spheres of her satiny
buttocks, reveling in their resilient softness, and then pulled her crotch
even further down on his sunken cock, swiveling her pelvis around on his
hardened shaft, grazing the sensitive entrance to her womb against his rock
hard penis. Sandra drew in her breath at the novel sensation, dizzy from the
new feelings soaring through her, and then her busy interior muscles began to
contract and squeeze on the entrapped masculinity within her, wringing gasps
of unexpected pleasure from McLean.

He began to fuck in and out of her, with long, practiced strokes, sinking his
driving prick to the hilt in her willing cavern, withdrawing it almost
entirely out of her now warmly contracting pussy, matching thrust for thrust
as they bucked and slapped against each other, their dark curling pubic hairs
brushing together and entwining. Sandra's hair flung out around her face as
she tossed her head from side to side, and tiny mewls of ecstatic pleasure
forced themselves from between her grinding teeth. McLean was arousing new
sensations in her and her body was responding with a hedonistic answer of its
own. It was heavenly, writhing about in pagan delight under the
passion-demented body of a man - a man who was depraved with desire for her!
The idea that she had aroused him to such a fever pitch thrilled her. Her body
had incensed him like this, enflamed him with uncontrollable lust. Her flesh
tingled with the wanton abandon of it all, being fucked, and fucking back, for
all she was worth. Gone were any lingering thoughts of husband, of Sam... her
body was the master now, its desire her only duty to satisfy.

Outside the window, Sam felt that he was going to explode, so intense was the
crackling ache in his balls and the urgent call in his cock. His anger had
faded to excitement as he continued to watch his mistress going crazy from the
fucking the veterinarian, McLean, was giving her. The lewd sight excited him
unnaturally; his fury with McLean for tricking him giving way to jealousy as
he observed the other man's pumping body, his ecstatic look of pleasure that
coated his face, the willing, responsive body of Sandra beneath him. It was
all too much for him... he couldn't take it any more...

Sandra was riding the waves of an indescribable joy. Her body was completely
in tune with McLean's; they were as one, sliding and twisting and rocking
together on the star-studded way to the acme of their desires. Her body was
reaching, striving to achieve the undeniable climax which was building up in
her, and which wouldn't be long in coming.

From the back of her mind, Sandra heard a sound which turned her blood to ice.
The door was opening, and someone was coming into the room!

Terror flooded through her, paralyzing her responses momentarily, and the icy
fingers of fear clutched grotesquely at her heart. Turning her head slightly,
she could just see through a chink in the tangle of her and Jeff's bodies, the
lower torso of a naked man!

Her eyes widened at the sight of the huge, obese penis which jutted out
obscenely from its base, and there was something slightly familiar about it.
The stranger was standing stock still, and Sandra blinked her eyes, wondering
for a moment, if it wasn't all just a lewd mirage.

When she focused again, she had to bite back a blood-curdling scream. The
torso was coming, coming, towards her, the elongated shaft bobbing obscenely.
Nightmarish terror threatened to send her hurling into unconsciousness.

Then she felt herself being turned over, to the side, McLean's arms still
grasping her tightly, his tireless cock still slicing ceaselessly in and out.
Oh, God, she sobbed silently, what is happening. Who is it?

The pounding of bare feet came nearer, and then a coarse, lust-crazed voice
rang out:

"For Christ's sake, McLean, wait for me!"

It was Sam! Her throat was arid and she wanted to jump up and flee from this
ultimate degradation but she was a prisoner of her own body, still responding
heedlessly to McLean's insistent hammering. Agonized, she felt the trim smooth
ovals of her buttocks being spread apart, heard Sam's excited gasp as the dark
little ring of her anus came into view, and then she sobbed aloud as she felt
the hard, stubby head of his dancing prick come into direct contact with the
tight little hole. What was he going to do to her? her mind pleaded in
silence, suddenly terrified by the confrontation with her ]over.

The sight of Sandra's round firm buttocks jerking backward enticingly under
McLean's frontal thrusts egged Sam on to a new plateau of desire, and with an
excited grunt, he pressed his thick forefinger against the crinkled little
sphincter, worming it into the tightly resisting little passage until he had
intruded as far as the first knuckle.

"... nnnnggghhhhhh..." Sandra groaned as she felt the maddening pain begin in
her back passage, and she began to struggle wildly, twisting her ass around in
wild staccato attempts to dislodge his firmly imbedded finger. Her feverish
flailing seemed to incite McLean to boiling point, as he continued to fuck
heedlessly into her ravished vagina.

"That's it... move that ass..." he groaned, seemingly oblivious to the farm
hand's entrance.

Sam rotated his finger around inside the tight little rectum, sinking it
deeper inside her, until he suddenly pulled it out abruptly with a loud plop!
which gave Sandra a momentary feeling of relief.

But it was short-lived, as she felt again the hard, excruciating pressure of
Sam's rock-hard prick head against the cringing little anal mouth, and as he
continued to jab and pressure the tiny hole, paralyzing realization of what
was going to happen washed over her with tumultuous force.

"Oh God, please don't, Sam..." she shrieked at the same time as he lunged
forward in a snarling, brutal surge, and forced the vainly resisting muscle to
yield under his greater strength.

"AAAAARRRGGHHHHHHHHH... No! No! Please stop!" she sobbed as she felt the
splitting pain of his brutal anal entry. "PLEASE STOP, SAM...
PLEEASSSSEEEEE..." she continued to wail as he began to inch forward, forcing
open the tender internal membrane with his merciless onslaught.

"Oh God, it hurts! It hurts too much!" the demented woman implored her lover,
but to no avail. By dint of pure strength, Sam managed to slide forward until
the full length of his lust-driven cock was imbedded in her back passage. Her
whole backside was a sheet of raw fiery pain which pushed unmercifully up the
length of her spinal column, culminating in a shattering pain in her brain,
which was actually the force of the knowledge of the utter degradation the two
men were subjecting her to. She was like helpless chattel between the two of
them, a mindless being existing only for their pleasure, as they double fucked
her, one in front and one in back and filled the air with their animalistic
groans of pleasure.

Sam began to screw slowly in and out of her throbbing rectum, and she
shamefully remembered the similar assault by her husband, which had been
fading into a bitter memory, and was now recalled with new venom. Then, slowly
but surely, the soft rubbery walls of her back passage were beginning to
widen, thus mercifully lessening the incredible pain. When the agonizing pain
had finally cleared, Sandra was sorry it did, because it revealed something
which added more shame and humiliation to her debased ego. She was beginning
to enjoy it, enjoy the lewd anal screwing her lover was giving her while
McLean continued to fuck her in front. No! No! her mind screamed as she lay
sandwiched between the two sweating male bodies, trying to will the rising
tide of pleasure to ebb. But she failed.

"Oooohhhhhhhhh..." a low pitched wail of animal-like pleasure rang out... she
couldn't resist the primordial call of her body any longer. SHE LIKED IT. She
liked being buffeted like a scrap of paper in the wind, mercilessly battered
between the two heaving bodies. Masochistic ripples of pleasure eddied along
her spine as she began to revel in her complete subjugation to the two men.
She began to glory in the power they had over her, not only physical power but
their potency which invoked such responsive delight in her. They were like
wild stallions, luring her, the domestic mare, out to the bitter-sweet freedom
of the plains, and she had responded, throwing aside the security of
suppressed sensual excitement for the excruciating sweet agony of a completely
freed libido.

"Mmmmmmmmm... oooohhh it's good..." she moaned, arching her back and flaring
her buttocks to receive Sam's jack-hammer thrusts in back and then flicking
forward to welcome Jeff's pile-driver shaft in front.

"Oooohhh that's it... hurt me! Fuck me harder!" her voice rang out, raucous in
its obscenities, and Sandra could hardly recognize it as her own. She was in
another world, piloted there by the unbelievable spasms of pleasure she was
receiving in her dual passages, as the two hard, plunging pricks dove in
unison and surfaced as one, leaving her breathless with excitement. It was
incredible, being fucked like this by two men at once... far far better than
anything she had ever experienced before. She wanted it to go on forever!

But her body had climbed to the topmost peak of sensual ecstasy, and there was
nothing left for her but to tumble down. Her piercing wail rent the air, and
then her body was spasming uncontrollably, slippery as an eel between the
sandwich of human flesh. "AAAAARRRRRRRNNNNnnnnnngggggg... I'm cumming! Oh God,
do it harder! Harder! I'm THERE... ! ! ! ! !"

The two men were driven by the whiplash of her lust-hoarsened voice and they
pounded against her, their driven cocks tormented beyond belief by the dynamic
contractions of her pussy and rectum, until they, too, could hold out no
longer.

Their deep masculine voices sounded out, distorted with passion, as the
floodgates of their lust were loosened, and the torrents of their bubbling
white liquid scorched from the vats of their testicles along the pipes of
their plunging pricks and poured with spasmodic ejaculations into the
writhing, squirming twin passages, where they commingled in an effervescent
pool of frothy male sperm in Sandra's womb. They continued to flood her
insides, their reservoir of semen apparently never-ending, until finally,
their exhausted cocks finally acknowledged defeat, and began to slip like
spent worms from her widely dilated passages. Gurgling with pleasure, Sandra
slipped to the floor, her body floating on a sea of happiness, shielded on
both sides by her two lovers.

Sandra was applying nail-polish to her long tapering nails, when she heard
Mike's car pull into the driveway. She gave a little start, surprised at his
early homecoming. She hadn't really been expecting him until the morning, and
already her mind had been wandering ahead to the long evening of pleasure she
would experience with Sam. Her body still tingled from the incredible fucking
she had received from Sam and the veterinarian simultaneously, just the
previous evening, and the wild three-way act had honed the edge of her sexual
appetite to such a pitch that she thought Sam would never finish with his
chores, and come to her. Damn him, why did he have to come home early? she
complained silently, putting aside her cosmetics and heading for the kitchen.
Still, maybe Mike... It was weeks since Mike had made love to her, and she
felt a sudden, urgent longing to feel his body near hers again, experience him
through the body of the new woman she had become. Her face brightened as her
husband hurried into the kitchen.

"Hello, Sandra," he called, "any coffee ready?" Sandra looked at him uneasily.
He was slumping tiredly in a chair, his eyes roaming aimlessly around the
room. He didn't even seem to see her!

She handed him a steaming cup, and without even acknowledging it, he picked up
the Vet's report which was lying on the table.

"That's one good thing anyway!" he muttered, his eyes roaming over the report.

"What's that?" Sandra asked, puzzled.

"The Vet's report - the cows all passed the TB test - or did you ever bother
to read it?" There was an ominous coldness in his voice which made Sandra
shiver.

Draining his coffee cup, he rose and headed for the door.

"W-would you care for some dinner? I've got..."

"Later!" he interrupted, "I'd better check on things in the dairy!" And before
Sandra had a chance to reply, he was gone.

Sandra stood stock-still. She didn't really know what kind of greeting she had
expected from her husband, but she certainly hadn't anticipated his coldness,
indifference. He didn't care what she was thinking or what she felt about his
return. He just didn't care! Fear clutched relentlessly at Sandra's pulsing
heart. Was she in danger of losing Mike? Was her marriage actually dissolving
in front of her? Numbly, she tried to reassure herself. She knew in her heart
that the intoxication of her new found sensual freedom was a paltry return for
the security she had taken for granted, and which was in imminent danger of
toppling! Did Mike suspect what she had been up to? Anxiety gnawed at her
viscera like a dog at a bone. She sunk down into a chair, her lovely young
body shaking with convulsive tremors, as she fought a rising wave of panic.

The minutes ticked by, but Sandra's uneasiness had not abated. She felt worse
than ever, with only herself to blame. For the first time, she began to
realize the seriousness of her actions, and to wonder about their
consequences. In the back of her mind, she had assumed that Mike would not
find out. She also believed that nothing that she did would make him turn
against her! Had she been wrong? Was Mike sick and tired of her, her bitchy,
demanding ways, her lack of consideration for him? But I love him, I still do!
her mind protested. She had to tell him, tell him now, ask for his
forgiveness, get his reassurance that everything was all right. At the back of
her mind was the paralyzing fear that Sam, unable to restrain himself, would
brag about his conquest...

She knew Mike didn't like her to disturb him at work in the sheds, but she
couldn't wait until he came back. It might be too late...

Sandra ran lightly across the yard, and headed straight for the dairy,
relieved to find a light there. She let herself quietly in by the back way,
anxious not to disturb him, and stealthily made her way towards the far end
where the machinery was. She could hear muffled voices, and silently prayed
that Mike wouldn't be angry at her for disturbing him.

Suddenly, Sandra froze, her blood running cold. She had to stifle a scream as
her husband's voice wafted across to her.

"Oooohhh Eve darling, I've missed you so much..."

God what were they doing? She had to find out...

Her blood racing, she slipped inside the next to last stall, and peering
between the slats of the wood partition, her eyes darted restlessly, trying to
find her husband. Then she saw him!

Her eyes bulged as they focused on a blurred tangle of naked arms and legs.
Mike, her husband and Eve were sprawled, stark nude, on several sacks of
animal feed, their bodies locked together in a tight, passionate embrace.

Sandra felt a blood-curdling scream rise in her throat and she had to cram her
knuckles into her mouth to suppress it, as she saw the young blonde, Eve's,
strong white hands wrapped tightly around Mike's neck, and as she glimpsed her
husband's hungry wet tongue slipping into the shapely blonde's receptive
mouth. Their twisting, writhing bodies lay only a few feet from Sandra's
horrified gaze, and she could see that Eve's large gray eyes were beginning to
dilate and an unmistakable smoky haze of passion drifted across them as Mike
slowly caressed her ripe golden body.

Sandra watched, paralyzed with shock. Every nuance on their faces was distinct
to her view; she stood there breathless, unable to turn her eyes away from the
lewd display of flesh and passion.

She watched as Mike's mouth tore away from the glistening fullness of Eve's
lips and began to trail hot, wet kisses down her vibrant swan-like neck,
sucking ardently at the tender flesh, leaving a path of raw, red little
patches in his wake. The blonde's hands were digging desperately into his
shoulders and from her gaping, half-open mouth, it was obvious that she was
already deeply entangled in passionate sensual excitement.

Sandra was hypnotized by the sight of the eager couple wallowing in unabashed
lust. Her heart felt crushed by the evidence of her husband's infidelity, but
still, she couldn't tear herself away from the incredible spectacle. She
wanted to run in and separate the adulterous couple, yet she was immobilized
by the scene. She had never in her life seen anything so mesmerizing, so
compelling. It was strangely, perversely exciting, and every nerve, every
sense in her body seemed sharpened to extraordinary intensity.

Sandra watched, her eyes bulging, as Eve, her blonde hair flowing like a
sheath of golden hay, stretch free of the tangle of arms and legs and slowly
spread her perfectly sculptured thighs, revealing the honey-colored muff of
her pubic triangle. Her arms hung languidly by her sides and her firm full
breasts rose up and down with her frenzied breathing. Sandra could see the
nipples spring to attention, the dark pink buds jutting up erect from the
crinkled brown aureoles.

She gasped, stung with unbearable jealousy, as Mike squeezed the ripe flesh as
he kissed first one and then the other buttery globe. He rolled the thickening
nipples between his thumb and forefinger, wringing little mewls of pleasure
from Eve. Then he raised his head and Sandra could see the livid pink stretch
of his tongue darting out as it flicked down the smooth soft plane of her
lithe body, stopping to poke at the tight, deeply imbedded little navel,
licking it lovingly, as his hand continued to massage the smooth plane of her
belly.

Sandra's dimming eyes were riveted on the tall tanned body of her husband as
it hovered over the prostrate girl, and her eyes dropped to the huge, fleshy
protuberance of his cock as it dangled out obscenely from the blonde pubic
thatch. It prodded lewdly at Eve's parted thighs, and Sandra could see the
girl's hips churning in unmistakable invitation.

"Oh darling, please fuck me now... I want to feel your beautiful hard cock
inside me..." Eve's passion distorted voice pleaded. Her fingernails were
digging into his muscular back, and Sandra winced at the girl's lascivious
desire.

Sandra had never seen Mike so aroused, so lust-crazed as he was as he hovered
over the pleading girl. A new wave of jealously swept over her -  she had
never been able to arouse him to that extent!

Suddenly, he leaned forward and grasped Eve's quivering legs and lifted them
high up, till they dangled over his shoulders. He looked down at the lewd
spectacle of her naked open vagina, lust gleaming in his eyes, and Sandra
herself could see the moist, pink furrow throbbing with excitement. She could
see the eager clasping hole of her vagina, opening and closing, trying to suck
in something to fill her desperate void. The outer lips were swollen with
passion and the red bulbous tip of her clitoris quivered and pulsed through
the soft blond pubic fuzz.

Mike grasped his long, thick penis in his hand and guided it towards the
enticing pink split, running the thick burgeoning head deftly along the
moistened crevice, lubricating it in Eve's already flowing vaginal juices,
while she mewled piteously.

"Oh please Mike, do it to me now... please do it to me now... ! !"

Her lewd words seemed to galvanize Mike into action, and he suddenly rammed
forward and with an explosive groan, thrust the hard bulbous head into the
tiny, hair-fringed hole between her legs.

"AAAAhhhhhhmmmmmmm..." Eve sighed, and Sandra felt the first stirrings of
anger on hearing the girl's sibilant moans of pleasure. Her lewd fascination
with the incredible scene had suppressed any anger she might have felt, but
now a slow burning resentment was seething inside the bewildered wife. It's
just like I thought, she fumed inwardly, he was interested in that little slut
right from the beginning! Her own deviance from the marital path was forgotten
as rage simmered inside her as she watched her husband in his joyful
rendezvous with the young blonde milkmaid. No wonder he wasn't interested in
me, she bridled, and to think I was rushing out to apologize to him, the lousy
cheating bastard...

She watched, rage boiling like a furnace within her, as Mike continued to plow
forward, sinking his elongated shaft all the way into Eve's upraised pelvis.

"... hhhhnnnngggghhhhh...!" she moaned as Mike's desire hardened cock reached
the back of her womb, and his hairy pendulous balls slammed hard against the
soft silky cushions of her upturned buttocks.

Sandra craned her neck, eager suddenly not to miss a second of her husband's
frenzied fucking of another woman.

Her rage was receding again, and jealousy was once more taking its place...
envy, and a vicarious sort of excitement. There was something hypnotic about
her husband's smooth, long in-strokes and his short, sharp out-strokes which
evoked a responsive rhythm in her own loins. Her initial state of shock was
wearing off, and she felt horribly rejected, she was left out of the paradise
which the two lovers were enjoying, and she was overcome by a feeling of
loneliness and rejection. The obscene magnetism of the violently fucking
couple - her husband and, his mistress - was drawing her into its lewd spell,
and she wanted to run and leave the scene of adultery, but she couldn't. She
was caught in the web of the lurid act transpiring a few feet away, and she
had to wait to the end, had to see all of this incredible copulation between
her husband and the young girl.

Suddenly, she froze in her bending forward position, her heart thumping with
terror. Someone was behind her! She wanted to turn around, discover the
intruder, even scream, but she couldn't! She couldn't let Mike know that she'd
seen him, that she'd been spying on him! Her flesh crawled as she felt hands
behind her, strong, callused hands on her thighs, easing up her short flared
skirt, caressing her naked skin. The hands were tugging on her flimsy white
panties, peeling them down over her full rounded hips... the fingers were
probing at her now nakedly exposed vagina... OH GOD, SHE COULDN'T STAND IT!
She had to turn, stop whoever it was...

"Ssshhh, it's only me..."

It was Sam! Relief flooded through the terrified wife. But what was he doing?
Sandra wanted to ask him, wanted him to go away, let her witness alone her
husband's infidelity...

"Aaaaahhhhhhhh..." Sandra was unable to stop herself moaning as she felt the
searing, unexpected contact of Sam's mouth on her naked pussy! He had ducked
under her skirt, and his face was buried between her thighs!

Oh God, Sandra thought desperately, what's happening? She had to stop him,
stop his disgusting assault on her genitals, had to pull away...

"Oh Mike, you know how to fuck me... your cock feels so great in me...
Mmmmmmm..."

Sandra's attention was once more crudely arrested by her rival's lust-enflamed
sighs, and she felt her skin tingle from the girl's obscene words. Her eyes
flew to the bucking, writhing bodies as they slapped wetly against each other,
coated with perspiration.

Dimly, she realized that she was yielding to Sam's pressure on her thighs,
easing them apart. In the daze of her confusion, she could hear him rasping:

"I'm gonna lick your pussy, suck it and bite that little clit of yours... make
you cum that way while you watch your husband fuck that li'l blonde..." His
lewd chant sent excited shivers coursing through her. Did he think she would
allow him to touch her there, where he had ordered the dog to? Her mind shrank
again from the memory of the oral licking she had received from Sam's dog, and
how she had enjoyed it...

"No, Sam, no..." she whispered feebly, terrified Mike would hear. But her
pleas were lost in the slavering sound of his tongue as it swept and lapped
against her trembling cuntal split, brushed electrically against the hard
button of her clitoris, prodded the soft velvety folds of her pussy. Against
her will, Sandra felt the excitement, arousal, enjoyment, building inside her.
She couldn't help it... the hired man's tongue felt good against her quivering
cunt... His wet mouth continued to stroke the full length of the moistened
pink furrow, his taut voracious tongue inching its way deeper and deeper into
her eager young pussy. Prickly shoots of pleasure stabbed up into Sandra's
belly, radiating a vivid halo of sexual excitement from her glowing womb as
his crude, direct sensuality seemed to snap her whole being into lustful
attention.

She had to bite her lips to suppress the sighs of intense pleasure which were
trying to force them into sound, and she gripped the wooden top of the stall,
as she felt his tongue dip and tease the hot, fiery opening to her cuntal
passage.

Oh God, what's wrong with me, her mind questioned suddenly as her eyes focused
again on the wild pagan bucking of the grunting couple in front of her. Their
lewd scene had become part of her own blazing, uncontrollable lust, and her
own obscene witnessing of her husband's adultery was as arousing as the
burning, tingling touch of the man's tongue beneath her skirt. She had
transversed an unfathomable boundary in the short time since she had worried
and fretted alone in the kitchen when her husband had hurried out. The last
half-hour was a real milestone in her life, and she knew that she could not
retrace her steps across that boundary. She was watching her husband fucking
another woman while her own cunt was being sucked by the hired man, and her
mode of life till then, was a thing of the past. She knew, as she continued to
gaze raptly at the panting, jerking figures of her husband and his mistress,
that all her concepts on what life was all about were disintegrating... life
as she knew it was disintegrating! The future was indescribable, but she had
charted her own course, and she knew she would follow it, for better or
worse...

Involuntarily, Sandra found her thighs closing in around Sam's head, trapping
his sweating face in the heat of her hungrily dripping pussy, his fiery red
hair tickling her throbbing cuntal flesh. His tongue was like a dynamo,
washing and slashing and slavering, teasing the throbbing knob of her
clitoris, sucking the tendrils of her inner pussy lips, plunging stiffly into
the burning hot orifice of her vaginal sheath. Her hot steaming cunt walls
enveloped his intruding organ as it plunged, contracting, twitching, the
engorged lips glistening from the dribbles of her secretions.

Sam dug his rough fingers into her madly thrashing ass-cheeks, his tongue
working like a jackhammer, probing, searching, driving into the soft luscious
folds, possessed of a mind of its own.

Mindless, uncontrolled lust shook Sandra and her upper body was pressed hard
and roughly against the wall of the stall, and she ground her pelvis down on
his imprisoned face. His tongue and lips and hands became a feverish stampede
of lustful, frantic action, licking, biting, sucking as he groveled greedily
in her desperately writhing cunt, all striving in unison to uncap the
earth-shaking eruption from her passion tormented body. Her hands tangled in
his hair, smashing his blood-flushed face into the boiling cauldron of her
pussy. Sandra's mind was a wandering panorama of obscene pictures, in the
forefront of which was the image of her husband and his mistress welded
together in a carnal union of breathtaking passion.

Sandra's glazed eyes swung over to the steaming, twisting couple. They were
careening into a flailing collision of lust-driven fury... now accelerating...
now finally far beyond any human control as their passion finally crested...

They were cumming!

Their lewd, hoarse shrieks of release were shatteringly near, and then began
to fade, as Sandra's brain slipped at last utterly away. She was dissolved in
a screaming rocket of head-long desire as shudder after shudder convulsed her.
She felt the power of her approaching climax building, expanding deep within
her womb. And then, a tremendous hot flash drove through her.

"Unnnnnggghhh..." she grunted out loud, her mind dissolving in the intense
radiation of pure lust. She bucked forward, her pelvis engulfing Sam's
exhausted, moist face. Another blinding wave of heat exploded within her,
traveling with gathering speed up the thrashing length of her spine.

Her head fell back, her mouth hung open. "OH MY GOD! SAM! SAM!" she shrieked
mindlessly, as another wave struck, and another, until the mounting shockwaves
seemed to gather into a continuous thunderclap, converging on her lewdly
tumbling body. She opened her mouth again, screaming wildly, oblivious of
everything but the insatiable monster of her lust.

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming! AAARRRGGGhhhhhhhh..." Her screams seemed to go on
forever, echoing throughout the huge building, rising and falling, dying and
rising from the embers of her hoarseness again like a phoenix, the full
throated release of her passion buoyantly hurling her about in the momentum of
her orgasm like a matchstick bobbing in the wind of a hurricane.

Blissful peacefulness was beginning to descend on her, wiping everything away
but the glowing aftermath of her unbelievable release.

Reality intruded with crude brutality as fingers dug into her shoulder.

"Mmm, oh please don't..." she murmured, her eyes fluttering open.

Mike was standing over her, still stark naked! Her eyes widened in terror, her
voice tried to call out, but no sound came.

"You bitch!" he spat, "You fucking little adulterous slut!"

Sandra wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Shame and
mortification flooded through her, crimsoning her downcast face. She was
paralyzed with fear, too terrorized even to pull her skirt down over her still
lewdly splayed thighs. She was painfully, desperately aware of her husband
standing over her, his eyes traveling over the naked plane of her vagina, over
her white nylon panties so casually discarded, over Sam's cowering, abject
figure.

Unable to stand it any longer, Sandra hid her face in her hands, and started
to sob helplessly, her body shaking with the force of her weeping. This was
the end of everything! Mike had discovered her with Sam, spying on him. Sam
would tell him everything, about the dog, about the veterinarian, McLean...
Fresh sobs convulsed her as she thought of his rage, his fury. He'd kill her!

There was an ominous silence, broken only by her stifled sobs. Why doesn't
Mike say something, do something? her mind wondered, anything to make this
terrible moment pass. It seemed an eternity since he had called her those
names. Now at least, anger, abuse would be natural! This silence wasn't.

"Well, Maguire, what are you waiting for?" Mike's voice, cold and toneless
with rage and hatred rang out. "You're not going to stop now, are you?"

New terror gripped the frightened wife. What did Mike mean?

"I... uh... I..." Sam mumbled, his face beet red.

"Get on with it!" Mike snapped, and Sandra recoiled from the edge in his
voice.

"W-with what?" Sam mumbled dully.

"You can't leave the little lady lying there waiting, can you?" Mike sneered,
a sarcastic pitch sharpening his voice.

A new flood of embarrassment washed over Sandra. Oh God, what punishment was
he planning for her?

"No," Sam answered fatuously, his eyes turning to Sandra's sprawled figure.

"Okay then, let's see what it is that she can't do without!" Mike jeered.

Sandra couldn't help herself. "No Mike, please..."

"Shut up, you little whore!" he snapped, his eyes blazing.

Sandra cringed back against the wall, trying to stand up straight, but only
succeeding in falling against the bales of straw in the corner.

"What do I have to do?" Sam asked, relieved to find Peters' anger directed
towards his wife.

"I'll tell you what to do!" Mike snarled, "but first let me get the little
lady, sorry, the whore, ready!"

Sandra cowered piteously as Mike approached her, and shielded her face with
her arm. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, and pulled her to her feet.
With one swift pull, he tore away her skirt, leaving her hips and thighs stark
naked. And with a further exertion, he ripped the buttons of her blouse,
tearing it from her shoulders. Last of all, he snatched away her blouse,
leaving her totally naked.

"Oh God, please don't..." she sobbed, trying to cling to her husband's arm,
trying to elicit some warmth in him. His only response was to fling her
roughly onto the hay covered floor, where she fell in a disorderly heap,
skinning her elbow against the stall, her body bruised from the unyielding
surface. She wanted to cry, but couldn't. She could only lie there, a victim
of her husband's mounting fury.

"Eve!" he called imperiously, "come and watch the show!" Sandra was aware of
the young blonde milkmaid, slinking out of a corner where she had taken
refuge. She was still naked and she looked very young and frightened, and she
flattened herself against the wall, terrified of what was going on.

"All right, we can begin the show," Mike sneered, "and by Christ, the leading
lady had better give a good performance!"

Sandra lay prostrate on the floor, unable to feel anything, conscious only of
a desire for the whole perverted thing to be over with.

"Okay, Maguire, we're waiting for you! Get ready!"

Sam numbly began to undress, lifelessly discarding his clothes, until he, too,
was stark naked, his prick banging semi-erect, jutting out half-heartedly from
a tuft of reddish hair.

"Now let's think of a name for our show." Mike continued to jeer, "What about
'Wife turned Whore', or let me see. What about 'What Happens to a Cheating
Wife'."

There was silence all around. Unperturbed, Mike snapped, "There's your cue,
Maguire! You're on stage!"

Sandra stared at her husband in disbelief. Was he really expecting them to go
through with this travesty? Had he gone insane? Incredulously, Sandra saw Sam
shuffling towards her. He couldn't, he wouldn't touch her in front of Mike!

"Okay, Maguire," Mike's voice rang out again, "spread the lady's legs wide,
real wide!"

Sandra shrank back down into the hay as Sam ambled nearer, and then she had to
stifle a scream as his hands rested on her ankles. "No! No!" she screamed,
trying to keep her legs together. But he was too strong for her, and slowly,
he forced her thighs apart, revealing the deep pink cleft of her trembling
pussy. Shame crept like a smothering blanket over her as she felt the evening
air rush in on her moist pussy. Oh God, I wish I were dead, her mind sobbed.

"Well, well, look at that!" Mike jeered, his voice dripping with scorn. "A
nice juicy cunt, all wet and ready! You did a good job earlier, Maguire. Let's
hope you can keep up the good work!"

Sandra wanted to put her hand down to cover her nakedness, but she was afraid
of what Mike might do! She knew it would be fatal to cross him now, the mood
he was in.

"Now, bitch," her husband spat, "it's your turn! Take that nice big cock that
you're so fond of, and make it nice and hard, 'cause you don't want a limp
prick in that cunt of yours, now do you?" Sandra felt a retch of nausea cramp
her stomach. She couldn't believe that this was the man she had married, her
husband!

"I'm waiting, slut!" he snapped, edging closer.

Sandra's heart thudded painfully. She was afraid to appeal to him again. That
only seemed to incense him. But she couldn't, she just couldn't do as he said!
But she had no choice. She trembled at the thought of what he would do to her
if she refused. He'd kill her! Mike edged even closer, and Sandra made up her
mind. She had to comply! There was no way out!

Her hand was shaking as she reached up and tentatively slipped her fingers
around Sam's awakening prick. The lewd words seemed to have an exciting effect
on the workman, and his member was already bobbing out, cleaving the air like
a snake, the surface glistening with the blood of passion. Sandra could feel
it throbbing under her touch, and she sensed that it was growing in dimension
as she held it.

"Put more life into it!" her husband commanded, his voice perilously near, and
Sandra began to move her fingers slightly, hoping to satisfy his demand.

"Tickle his balls, bitch!" Mike ordered, his voice shrill, "tickle your
lover's balls!"

Numbed with mortification and fear, Sandra obediently cupped Sam's hairy
pendulous balls in her palm and massaged them gently, feeling the roiling of
his sperm as they gathered in the darkness of his testicles. Her body ached
from soreness and the hard floor, and she thought she'd pass out before much
longer. Faintly, she hoped for a miracle, that her husband would grow tired of
his game.

"Now, we're ready for the big one! Now, leading lady, look at what your lover
has got for you!"

Sandra forced herself to open her eyes, and they dropped to the bulging red
protuberance a scant foot away. It was huge and thick and long-much bigger
than she'd ever seen it!

"Is it big enough for you? Is it? Is it?" Mike shrieked, his face reddening in
his excitement and fury.

"Yes, it is..." Sandra mumbled wearily, sinking back against the floor. If
only it was all over...

"Kneel down in front of your mistress, Maguire!" Mike's thickened voice rang
out again, and the wretched hired man, torn between fear and mounting desire,
obediently settled himself between Sandra's quivering legs.

"Now slut, this is what you've been waiting for! Take hold of his prick and
lead it towards that starving little pussy of yours!"

Sandra blanched when she heard her husband's latest demands. It was too much -
she had suffered enough. She couldn't do it, couldn't degrade herself further,
and in front of Eve, too... Oh, God, what was she to do?

"You heard what I said!" Mike's voice was livid with rage. It was no use! She
had to do it...

Fighting back her tears, Sandra reached down once more and grasped the
rock-hard cock in her hand, and slowly, began to guide it towards the tiny
cringing hole of her pussy. She rested the hard, bulbous head against the
delicate petal-shaped opening, her breath quickening in fear.

"All right, Maguire, get ready. I'll tell you when to go!"

All feeling left Sandra. She was suffering the ultimate degradation. And she
didn't care. She was beyond any normal emotion. Her body was left to take the
punishment, while her mind sought refuge in numbness.

"Get ready, get set!" Mike's voice, quivering with excitement, called out.
"One, two, three... GOOOOOO... ! !"

Sam sprang forward on his boss' order, oblivious to everything but his rising
passion and his desire to appease his employer. He surged forward with brutal
strength, crashing through the soft, unresisting barrier of her outer cunt
lips, slicing through the tender vaginal sheath like a knife through melted
butter.

"WAAARRRGGGHHHHHHHH..." she sobbed helplessly, her hips thrashing wildly to
escape the skewering pain.

"Oh please stop, it hurts... it hurts meee..." Her screams were drowned out by
Mike's hysterical laughter.

"That's it, Maguire! Give the bitch a good fucking!"

Sam's grossly inflated penis was like a cast-iron cudgel splitting her
insides, sending shooting pains ricocheting through her. The hard, smooth head
rubbed irritatingly against the delicate flesh of her cervix, and she felt
that the fragile membrane at the entrance to her body would tear from the
unnatural stretching. At last, he began to withdraw his lust hardened cock,
grating the inner sheath with its venous underside, sending painful shudders
rippling through Sandra's body. The pain obliterated any other feeling, and
dominated her whole being.

"OOOOOOOOhhhhhhhhhhhh..." she wailed again as Sam drove forward with even
greater force, raising her pelvis a few inches from the ground as he bore into
her with flesh-splitting strength. He began to establish an arduous rhythm,
forcing her strained vaginal passage to give a little as he began to plow into
her.

"Fuck back, you little whore!" Mike screamed, his eyes dancing with lewd
perverted excitement. His eyes were riveted on the enormous shaft asit plunged
in and out of his wife's aching pussy, and he was enjoying the spectacle of
her debasing pain. His own cock was standing out like a flagpole, goaded into
erection by the incredible luridness of the act he had instigated. He was
mesmerized by the straining whiteness of his wife's subjugated body, by the
palpitating milkiness of her breasts, the trembling strength of her thighs.

Sandra was relieved when the pain finally subsided and Sam's actions took on a
regular rhythm. Her body responded in kind, recognizing the familiar action,
and she felt some of her degrading feelings easing. It would soon be over...
She couldn't believe it when she felt the first tingle of excitement - a
familiar pinprick of pleasure deep inside her. She wanted to quell it, stamp
it out, but knew she couldn't. Her body was responding as it did on the other
occasions when she had been debased and humiliated... it was responding to a
man's penis inside it, and nothing else!

"Ooooohhhhhhh..." she sighed involuntarily as her hips almost unconsciously
took on a deep sensual churning, a passionate grind of its own, a direct
answer to Sam's insistent demands. Flushes of heat were rising up her body,
blushing her face, making her mewl with excitement, causing little beads of
perspiration to break out on her upper lip. Her hips began to grind upward as
Sam plunged downward, and then pressed back against the softness of the hay as
he began to withdraw, her interior vaginal sinews milking his blood-filled
prick with tight, possessive little contractions.

Mike ran an excited tongue over his dry lips when he noticed his wife's
excitement, her acquiescence to Sam's pile-driving cock. She was enjoying the
fucking her lover was giving her, right in front of him, her own husband! The
lewd thought excited him even more. His eyes were glued on the increasing
tempo of the fucking pair, darting here and there to catch a glimpse of a
bobbing breast, a dipping cock, fleshy cunt lips! He had forgotten completely
about Eve, cringing still in the dark corner, fearful to show herself. He had
forgotten everything but the presence of his wife and her lover who were
becoming oblivious to him, and the mounting pressure in his own balls as they
sent urgent messages to his throbbing prick.

Suddenly, he couldn't take it any longer. His cruel, sadistic trick had
backfired - he had engendered an excitement in the two which was getting the
better of him also... he no longer wished to be just a director...

Sandra was carried away in the wind of her own undeniable excitement. She was
being fucked by their hired man again, who had elicited so many wonderful
responses in her before, who had initiated her into incredible realms of
ecstasy, and this time was no exception. She had momentarily forgotten about
her husband's initial part in the act, and was aware only of Sam's body
buffeting against her, his thick, lust-hardened prick slamming into her
pelvis, his hard rough hands kneading the flesh of her hips. Then, suddenly,
the rhythm which was carrying her along on the road to climax was shattered. A
hand was grappling with her hair, making her squirm with excruciating pain.
Her eyes flew open... and she saw a cock, a long, red, throbbing cock a scant
inch away from her face!

Her eyes riveted on the burgeoning instrument, jutting out proudly from a
forest of blond curls... it was Mike!

"Open your mouth!" he commanded, his voice laden with depraved passion. She
continued to stare, mesmerized by the lewd instrument, until it leaped forward
and slipped past her lips in a swift abrupt movement. Surprised, she found the
fleshy hardness of it in her mouth... a strangely agreeable sensation!
Timorously, her tongue began to swipe the rod of flesh in her mouth, tasting
for the first time the masculine piquancy of her husband's prick. Shivers of
strange pleasure rippled her skin. She began to suck gently on the palpitating
organ, caressing it with her lips, nibbling at it with her teeth. Her tongue
darted into the tiny slit at the top, stretching it mischievously, and then
slipped down to coat the heavy webbed underside with saliva. She was beginning
to like sucking her husband's cock... while her lover fucked her!

Her hand reached up and cupped the squirming sac of his scrotum, kneading the
fermenting balls, cradling them in her warm palm. Mike's hands tightened in
her hair, forcing her mouth further down on his throbbing prick, till the
smooth spongy head was pressing against her larynx, making her cough slightly
from the unaccustomed contact.

Mike was driven to frenzy by his wife's hungry sucking on his cock. He
couldn't tear his eyes away from her full ovalled lips circling his rock-hard
member, and his hands released their frenetic grip on her hair and dropped to
knead savagely at the smooth orbs of her breasts.

Sam continued to pump furiously into the gyrating woman, feeling her body
jackknifing against him with each demonic stroke of his blood-hard prick. His
hands were like eagle's claws on her hips, and his body was straining every
muscle taut as whipcord as he pounded mercilessly into her.

Sandra was a fiery furnace of excitement and passion. She had never felt like
this before. She loved being fucked by Sam while she was sucking her own
husband's cock... loved the feeling of Mike's prick plunging far back into her
throat while Sam's rod plundered her pussy. She was being buffeted by two men,
fucked by both at once, and she reveled in the lewd three-way act.

She began to suck furiously as she sensed her husband's imminent release. She
could feel his body tense, and then she felt the rumble of his white-hot sperm
along the tube of his cock, before it spurted in a boiling stream of frothy
white nectar into the sanctuary of her throat. She swallowed and gulped as it
continued to flow in a thick jet down her burning gullet, and her cheeks
hollowed and filled as she strove to keep up with the never-ending shower, her
lips tightly convoluted around the pumping cock, so as not to lose a precious
drop of it.

"Keep sucking... keep suckingggg..." Mike to drain every last drop into his
wife's eager gulping throat.

Sam stiffened like a bowstring just then, and his hoarse guttural cries
sounded out as he began to batter against her like a bulldozer, his heavy
pelvis slamming cruelly against her upraised crotch, squirting jet after jet
of hot white semen into her hungrily churning belly in a constant river of his
pent-up passion.

A feeling of disappointment flickered through her as her husband's penis, at
last spent and limp, slipped from her mouth, but just then, her own release
was triggered by Sam's frantic pounding into her, and she felt herself lifted
up in the arms of a giant whirlwind, and spun round and round, until she was
flying by herself in a never-never land of complete euphoria.

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" she chanted, her body tossing and
gyrating like a spinning top, flailing about under Sam's deep hard thrusts
into her.

Shriek after shriek flew past her sperm glistening lips as she was caught in
the throes of spasm after delicious spasm of indescribable delight, each of
which carried her far beyond the wildest bounds of what she had experienced
before.

At last, she was still, her body still twitching a little, as her nerve
endings surrendered the last vestiges of their pleasure, and she lay back on
the softness of the sweet smelling hay, beside the panting body of her husband
and the satiated grunting figure of her lover.

Sandra's feelings of complete satiation was marred only by a nagging feeling
of animosity... towards Mike. Even though things had turned out all right in
the end, she couldn't rid herself of the desire for revenge. She couldn't
forget how penitent she'd been when he had first come home, how she'd followed
him out to the dairy, expressly for apologizing, how she'd discovered him
making love to Eve, and worst of all, how he'd forced her and Sam into the
debasing debacle. She knew she'd always hold a grudge against him until she'd
laid that ghost to rest. Her body was aching with a pleasant sort of
weariness, and groggily she staggered to her feet, peering around in the
semi-darkness. Both Sam and Mike were still half-sprawled on the floor, and
Sandra could just make out the whiteness of Eve's body as she stood in the
corner against the wall. The thought that her husband's mistress had witnessed
her degradation added to her indignation, and a plan was forming in her
lust-depraved mind. Yes, I'll pay that bastard back... making her way over to
where Eve was standing silently.

Mike was afraid to look at Sandra. Afraid, and ashamed, too. His anger had
gotten the better of him, and had faded with his arousal; now he felt nothing
but regret. He knew he'd gone too far when he'd forced his own hired hand and
his wife to perform in front of him. He'd no right to do it, he knew now,
especially when he himself had just been fucking Eve. Who was he to throw
stones? For all he knew, catching him and Eve in the act might have set the
ball rolling for his wife and Maguire. I shouldn't have been so hasty...

Apprehensively, he watched Sandra get up. Where was she going, he puzzled, and
then drew in his breath sharply when he saw her heading over to where Eve was
still cringing against the wall.

What was she going to do to the girl? he wondered, tempted to call out and
warn Eve. His wife was probably angry enough for anything, maybe even for
attacking the girl!

"Sandy..." he called softly, but she didn't seem to hear. Afraid, Mike got to
his feet, and hurried over to where the two women were standing.

Sandra was looking intently at Eve, taking in every inch of her soft golden
curves, feeling a stab of jealousy on seeing the girl's youthful perfection.
There was a look of abject fear on her face, and her pale hair, seen in the
dim light, made her look ghostly, a sad apparition.

"Please, it's not my fault!" Eve whimpered, suddenly terrified of her
employer's wife who was standing beside her. With relief, Eve saw Mike coming
towards them. He'd protect her, save her from that madwoman...

"Sandra, leave Eve out of this! Mike said authoritatively, and Sandra threw
him a haughty glance.

"No fear!" she scoffed, throwing her head back, "I'm going to find out just
what it is you've been so interested in!"

Sandra reached out her hand and rested it on the girl's shoulder, and then
began to caress the soft flesh, dropping lower still until her hand was
covering one of Eve's soft round breasts.

"Sandra, for God's sake..." Mike broke in.

"Mmmm, not bad..." Sandra noted, her hand moving to cup the other full white
orb in her hand. Eve's brown berry-like nipples leaped into erection at
Sandra's touch and jutted out provocatively against her palm. Now Sandra was
embracing the astonished girl, gathering her in her arms, pulling her toward
her breasts, and then, Sandra lowered her mouth onto the girl's quivering
lips, and planted them with soft, passionate kisses. Sandra could hear Mike's
sharp intake of breath and felt a thrill of pleasure when she realized that
her plan was working. I'll make him sorry yet... she promised, as she
continued to shower hot little kisses on the surprised girl's lips, neck,
throat. Sandra was actually surprised by how pleasant it was to hold the other
woman in her arms, and was glad that she was so pretty and soft and appealing.
She realized she felt a sort of sympathy for the girl, a mild desire to
comfort her for what she had to go through.

Mike stared dumbfounded at the two women, their arms entwined around each
other. He couldn't believe it. He had been sure they were going to come to
blows, instead they were lovingly caressing and kissing each other. Eve had
suddenly come to life under his wife's attentions and was reciprocating with
passionate leech-like kisses. Her mouth was closing in on one of Sandra's pink
little nipples, enclosing the hard little knob between her full ripe lips,
sucking on it deliriously. Sandra was emitting little moans of pleasure as she
clung to the blonde, and Mike had to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn't
seeing things. Sam, too, had joined him, his mouth agape at the incredible
sight.

"Well, I'll be hornswoggled..." he murmured, his eyes widening as he watched
his mistress and the dairymaid melting together in passionate embrace. He
looked awkwardly at his boss, wondering what to say, but Mike was looking away
embarrassed, ashamed to look his employee in the eye. So they both turned
their attention back to the girls...

They had slipped to the floor, golden body fused against creamy white one, and
the two men watched in disbelief as Sandra began to slide along the ground,
trailing kisses down the length of Eve's body, coming to rest on the golden
triangle between her long slim legs.

Sandra poised above the yellow thatch of pubic curls for a moment, and then
dipped still lower, and slowly drew apart the girl's buttery thighs. Her eyes
gazed aptly at the enticing pink slit which appeared before her, crowned by a
golden fleece. She could see the thin hair-feather outer lips throb slightly
and placing a thumb and forefinger on each soft, tender flange, gently drew
apart the fleshy folds, revealing the moist pink glory of her delicious young
pussy. The tiny pink tip of her clitoris peeped out from beneath the flaxen
curls, and just below it, the small rosebud-like opening of her vagina
glistened wetly. Sandra had never seen a woman so close before. It was all new
and strange to her, yet she was driven by she didn't know what instinct. She
had forgotten her initial desire for revenge; she was enraptured by the
sculptured wonder of the girl's soft, yielding body, and she was borne along
by an inclination which was getting more clamorous as minutes ticked by.

Slowly, she lowered her face towards the golden gateway, and drawing out her
tongue, ran it along the full length of the narrow pink aperture. She felt the
young girl draw back from the strange sensation, but she continued to touch
the girl's tender young flesh with her tongue, tentatively licking and swiping
with her own sensitive organ. Her long slim fingers were pressing against the
tender flesh of the girl's smooth thighs, and she began to grow more familiar
with the other woman's perfumed young cunt, sweeping her tongue in long,
caressing strokes along its velvety folds, dipping and probing and drawing out
the ambrosia of her femininity. She enclosed the turgid little button of her
clitoris in her mouth, fastening it between her teeth, and titillating it with
her tongue, making Eve squirm and moan with ecstatic pleasure. Sandra's tongue
searched and explored the secret creases and indentations of Eve's pussy,
sending chills of pleasure rippling up and down her spine, making her grind
the golden peak of her body down on the other woman's feverishly licking
mouth. She was beginning to mewl incessantly, her whole frame wracked with
tiny spasms of pleasure.

Mike just couldn't believe it. The two women were twisting around on the floor
like fish out of water, and Eve was moaning and sighing under his wife's oral
love-making. He could feel his own prick beginning to rise again, a new,
piercing ache throbbing through it. He was overcome with desire for his wife,
and for his mistress, and experienced an acute agony which stemmed from the
knowledge that he was excluded. They didn't need him... they were sensually
aroused without him...

He continued to watch astonished as Eve suddenly began to swivel around, until
her head was reaching down for Sandra's loins. Sandra, realizing what was
happening, languidly spread her thighs, and Mike gasped as he saw Eve lower
her pale oval face between the creamy columns of his wife's legs. Eve was
going to suck his wife's pussy!

Sandra moaned into Eve's steaming crotch as she felt the first touch of the
girl's cool tongue on her burning vaginal lips. It felt so soft, so soothing
and she sighed, stretching out her legs as Eve continued to tease her twirling
little tongue along the length of her hot pussy, soaking up her free-flowing
juices, nibbling the little bud of her rigid clitoris, jabbing experimentally
at the clasping hole of her cunt.

Sandra never knew that kissing and licking a woman's pussy, and being kissed
and sucked by a woman in return, could be so exciting, and yet so relaxing.
Safe, somehow. She felt instinctively that the girl wasn't going to do her any
harm, and she, in turn, wished to give Eve pleasure, nice, soothing pleasure.

Their bodies were fused together, dark hair against soft blonde pubic curls,
blonde head against soft dark pubic curls, the gold and the white blending in
a delicious sinewy streak of smoothly naked feminine flesh. They licked and
sucked and slavered in each other's pussies, oblivious of the hard breathing,
and unabashed gaping of the two men, completely nonplused in their sudden,
unexpected exclusion.

The tempo of the rhythmic churning increased, and the bobbing heads became
more frantic in their movements, and then the men saw that the two bodies
became as taut as plumb-lines, before collapsing in a series of head-to-toe
spasms, which culminated in muffled sighs and moans, drowned in the steaming
softness of the two twitching cunts.

Sandra felt her body rise and fall like a feather floating in a gentle breeze,
as Eve's tongue whipped her into achieving a climax unlike any she had before.
She could feel Eve's cuntal walls contract tightly around her nose and mouth,
almost smothering her, and tugging painfully on her slashing tongue, before
ejecting a warm mist of softly-scented moisture which bathed her face and
signaled the girl's simultaneous climax. The mistress and wife clung
tremulously to each other, their mutual embraces helping to still the last
quivering vestiges of their orgasms.

Sandra felt as if she were floating on Cloud Nine. Everything was working out.
She had got her revenge on Mike, while at the same time discovering a new
dimension in sensual excitement which she hadn't suspected existed. Her latest
experience had acted as a salve for her preceding ordeal, its gentle feminine
satiation the perfect counterpart for the animalistic satisfaction of the
other. But her peaceful reverie was brought abruptly to an end as she felt
hands once more curving around her buttocks.

"W-wha..." was all she managed to stammer, before she found herself being
pulled up on all fours. The hands were kneading the soft pliant flesh of her
bottom, caressing and pummeling it in turns. She winced as she felt the
unmistakable burning shaft of an engorged penis prodding at her, the hard,
mushrooming head probing obscenely at the tender folds of her pussy half
concealed by the flesh of her thighs.

Casting around in the semi-darkness, she could make out Sam standing near her,
his huge, sturdy penis held aloft in his hand like some barbaric weapon, his
eyes glinting eerily in the half-light. It was Mike then, who was positioning
himself behind her!

A weird shudder ran through her at the thought that it was her husband who was
prodding her with his giant weapon, her husband who was poising the rock-hard
head of his prick at the quivering entrance to her still tingling vagina. He's
going to take me from behind, her mind realized, and then...

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH..." she called out, unable to stop the shriek from
sounding as she felt the first nudging of his pounding cock as it insinuated
itself inside her hotly trembling cuntal sheath.

"NNNnnnngggghhhhhhhh..." she continued to moan, as it plowed inexorably on its
way, separating the yielding membrane of her vaginal passage as it advanced
into her depths. With a smack, she felt the dangling weight of his balls slap
against the flattened arcs of her backside, and then felt the niggling tickle
of the hard round head as it probed the sensitive zone of her womb. Her
husband's hands dug into the soft fleshy cheeks of her ass, and pulled them
even further back, skewering her even more on his pistoning rod, making her
knees rise up from the ground, burying every single inch of his weapon in his
wife's heated interior.

He held her there in position for a moment, flexing his prick slightly inside,
feeling her internal muscle throb in joyful answer, before slipping out again,
almost all the way, until just the glossy hardness of the bulbous head was
still imbedded in her tight passage. Then he rammed forward once more, shaking
her body violently with the force of his entry, making her breasts jiggle as
they hung down from the whiteness of their moorings.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh... mmmmmm... it's good..." she began to sigh as he commenced
to screw in and out of her with long, hard, smooth experienced strokes. He was
amazed at the expert, new response in his wife's body, and tried not to think
of who had been her teacher, just willed himself to enjoy the incredible
pleasure that she had to give.

Sandra continued to screw her backside back on her husband's oncoming pole of
hardened flesh, feeling the spheres of her ass flaring around the wiry tangle
of his pubic thatch, feeling the hardness of his pelvis as she swung back
against him. For the first time, she was enjoying, really enjoying, fucking
and being fucked by her husband, relishing his masculine body more than she
had ever done.

Through half-closed eyes, she saw Sam suddenly pounce on the still prostrate
body of Eve, and roughly spread her legs wide. Sandra felt a sympathetic wince
as she noticed the girl's eyes open wide in initial alarm at the size of the
huge male cock prodding at the quivering flesh of her tiny pink vaginal slit.
Sam's eyes were bulging with obscene pleasure as he gazed down at the supine
body beneath him, not being able to believe that she was lying unprotesting
under him. He held his huge palpitating cock there between the splayed thighs
for a moment, and then with a bestial grunt, charged forward, and sunk it
right to the hilt, in one savage movement, in the astonished young girl's
pussy.

"UUURRRGGGHHHHhhhhhhhhh..." Eve gasped from the harshness of the farm worker's
entrance into her soft body. He hesitated just a moment before withdrawing it
again almost completely, and immediately he began to fuck in and out of her
with fast, hungry strokes. Impatiently, he grasped the girl's slender ankles,
and forced each one back up over his shoulder, revealing the whole naked plane
of her trembling little cunt, unprotected before his onslaught.

Sandra, enjoying the easy rhythm of her husband's thrusts into her from
behind, leaned forward, eager to soothe the troubled girl, whose face wore a
distinct look of pain as she bore the savage rapidity of the workman's
in-strokes. She began to kiss the agonized girl, finding her young lips warm
and tender against hers, slipping her tongue past the guardian teeth,
encouraging Eve's dormant tongue into a lewd ecstatic dance of joy, whipping
up a froth of frenzy as they lashed and swirled and fenced with each other.
Her hands reached down and clasped a golden sphere in each, titillating the
enticing little buds into erect little knobs which jutted up erect from the
crinkled brown aureoles.

Sandra continued to kiss and caress her husband's mistress, while her own
lover screwed brutally into her, and while she herself was being fucked
canine-fashion by her own husband! Sandra was thrilled by the lewd
implications of the wild four-way act she was involved in. This was even more
incredible than she'd ever imagined... she had certainly run the gamut of
sexual experiences today. Already her mind was jumping ahead to even more
exciting adventures, more perverse, more lurid... more pleasurable.

But right now, her body was afire with unbelievable flames of passion. Her
husband's pelvic thrusts grew more and more frantic and her own churning was
more frenetic as her wet ass cheeks slapped against her husband's pelvis and
his hot pounding prick tore into her with the energy of an electric drill. And
the soft touch of Eve's lips under hers and the delicious feel of her breasts
in her hands added a hundredfold to her pleasure, as all four raced each other
in a wild free-for-all for the biggest prize of all.

And Sandra herself won! She was the first to cum, and her body twisted and
jerked out of control, throwing her into the hands of an earth-shattering
climax which shook her like a volcano, sending molten lava flying over her
flesh, electrifying her into new, incredible spasms of wild, passionate
pleasure.

"OH GOD... I'm there..." she sobbed out, as she tossed and writhed like a
captured snake, desperately trying to milk her husband of his life-giving
nectar for which her tortured sheath cried out. And she succeeded.

"Oh Christ Sandy, fuck back... fuck back, because I'm... I'm...
AAAGGGHHHHHHH..." And he was battering against her like a mad bull, his huge
enraged prick ejaculating with the strength of a fire extinguisher, scalding
her raw passage with jets of hot fluid which shot far up into her voraciously
accepting womb. Her thirsting passage greedily drank in all of the warm
offering, begging for more, trying to squeeze every last drop from his
exhausted prick. From the back of her mind, she was aware of Eve and Sam
cumming simultaneously, their cries hoarse and untamed as they slapped and
pounded against each other in a mutual demand for release.

All four collapsed together in a wanton, abandoned heap, arms and legs all
akimbo. Sandra was utterly exhausted, feeling certain she would never again
have the strength to make love again, but Sam and Eve and her husband all
united and proved how wrong she was, right into the early hours of the
morning, when finally Sandra dropped off into a satiated trance, her mouth
curved into a Mona Lisa smile. "Mmmmm, what a day this has been..."

Sandra absently shuffled the application forms around the crowded desk,
pushing aside the big leather bound Farm Accounts book. Yesterday had been a
hectic day for her, and she was glad to be taking it easy today. Five
interviews she had conducted, starting early in the morning. Their farm was
expanding so they needed another farm worker, and Sandra was in charge of
selecting an applicant. Not that she minded that job. It was all part of the
new arrangement she and Mike had come to about the running of the farm,
several months ago. It seemed like years ago now since that day, which was a
turning point in her life, when she and her husband and the two hired workers
had entwined in an incredible foursome in the dairy. But that day had been the
start of a whole new way of life for her, and for Mike, too, Sandra thought,
feeling a little twinge of jealousy as she remembered Sheila, the new redhead
who had taken Eve's place. Although part of the agreement they had reached was
that her husband could have a free hand with the new student, Sandra couldn't
help feeling a stab of envy at times. Still, she was well compensated for
having to share her husband with another woman.

Yes, she thought, stretching her long sinuous legs out under the desk, I've
nothing to complain about! Mike had agreed to her continuing her relationship
with Sam, but she found that he alone couldn't satisfy her completely and she
found herself looking further afield for satiation. And of course, her
neighbors were only too glad to oblige. The veterinarian's visit was due next
week, and Sandra felt a tingle of appreciation tickle her groin as she
recalled her last incredible bout with the Vet, when he had taken her in front
and Sam had fucked her anally. It seemed to her as if this was the way her
life had always been, and she couldn't remember what it was like before. Her
body was the boss - her desire, her passion governed her completely.

She enjoyed her husband's body more and more, too, and didn't mind that their
relationship had evolved into one of convenient mutual sexual satisfaction -
and nothing else. Still, it meant she could go on savoring the offerings of
all her neighbors and friends.

She ran her eyes over the resumes of the applicants she had interviewed
yesterday. Two in particular stood out in her mind, and she knew that the
choice lay between them.

"Mmmm", she murmured, tapping her teeth with her pencil, "Pablo seems to know
a lot about the job, and is certainly very handsome, but on the other hand,
Bill looks as if he were hung like one of our breeding bulls..."

                                   The End

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