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This story is fiction, and should be treated as such.
The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY,
and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an
adult, or reading sex stories upset you, do not read any further.
I am not the author. I don't have the talent.
I can only be ... "TheEditor".
The Friendly Couples
By Roger Grayson
Chapter 1
The bubble-topped bath water remained hot after twenty
minutes. Janet Richards sat low in the tub allowing the water to
barely cover the tops of her rich firm breasts. She blew at the
bubbles and scooped them in her cupped hands, building small
mountains on her slightly rising chest, each breath breaking
hundreds of the small transparent rainbow colored balls as they
crackled furiously around her.
She stretched her arms straight above her head and leaned
back, stiffening her legs in the tub and raised her body halfway
above the snowdrift of bubbles, displaying the long lean lines of
her young, voluptuous body. Her skin stretched taut against her
ribcage, giving definition to her curvaceous lines that ran to the
slight bump of pelvis that pointed out softly near the crest of her
hips.
At twenty-seven Janet had lost none of the desirable form she
had acquired not long after her seventeenth birthday. Her body
kept its shape with exercise on the tennis courts or in a swimming
pool. She had much to be proud of, her husband, Greg was always
telling her.
She yawned in her catlike stretch and threw her head back,
disposing of the bright towel she had wrapped around her long blond
hair. Though slightly damp with the humidity in the room, her hair
still shone with a bright lustre and an almost majestic fullness
piled high atop her head. She bent forward and pulled the plug to
release half the water so that she could refill the tub with more
hot steaming water. She intended to soak another fifteen minutes
before finishing her bath.
It was only four thirty in the afternoon, but Janet was
preparing herself for a special night, she thought happily, as the
almost scalding water poured itself into the tub from the steam
fogged faucet. Greg had received notice of his promotion yesterday
morning. He was now a branch manager of a nationwide loan and
savings company. She was proud of her husband and his ability.
She took particular care pouring two more cap-fuls of bubble
bath into the hot water as she thought of the night's entertainment
that lay before her. She and Greg were to be guests of Martin and
Darleen Kelly for the evening to celebrate the promotion.
Greg worked with Martin and though they had known each other
only a few months, the two men had become fast friends, as well as
the wives. The two couples had shared a great many evenings'
entertainment together and now, tonight, they would again celebrate
with added fervor. The Kellys knew how much the promotion meant to
both Greg and Janet.
Curious and apprehensive she thought about what would happen
when they went out. Greg had told her that they were going to a
topless nightclub near downtown Los Angeles, about thirty minutes
from their Hollywood home. Born and raised with all the modesty
the Midwest had to offer, she was not sure how she would react to
the bare breasts of other women as they bobbed and swayed to
psychedelic music in front of a large crowd of people.
She felt she would be too embarrassed to stay through an
entire show, but with all her courage she had tried to seem pleased
when Greg had told her where they were going. Besides he had
already reserved a table at Martin's suggestion. The Kellys were
footing the bill, but wanted Greg to pick the entertainment he
wished to see. Janet was not sure what to think when she heard
that he wanted to see a topless show. It was so unlike him.
Her thoughts were broken by the loud ringing of the telephone
in the bedroom. She turned her head toward the open door, knowing
for some unexplainable reason that Greg was calling. She lifted
herself quickly from the tub, threw her robe around her shoulders
and hurried to the bedside phone.
"Hello, Darling," she said, cradling the receiver between her
chin and shoulder.
"How did you know it was me," Greg asked.
"Oh, I'm just telepathic," she giggled.
"Well, tell me if you were telepathic about this," he said.
"You have to pack a bag for me. I've been called to Dallas."
"Oh, no, Greg. Not tonight!"
"I'm afraid so, Honey. The call came just ten minutes ago.
There's an important meeting of branch managers from the larger
cities. Speculation is that names are to be mentioned for
nominations for three new district managers. Even though I was
promoted only yesterday, there's a rumor that I'll be nominated as
a possible selection for the future. So ... The party will just
have to wait. I'll be home in half an hour. Bye."
Janet didn't answer but only listened to the click on the
other end of the line. Oh, why, she thought. Nothing ever seems
to turn out right. Day and night he was away from her, working and
slaving twelve to eighteen hours a day. For the last year he
seemed to pay no attention to her, only his job. He should have
married the finance company, she thought.
Halfheartedly she walked to the closet, slid open the door and
began selecting clothes for him to take. I shouldn't think that,
she considered. Greg is working so hard so that we can have a
better future. She felt a pang of guilt for being mad at her
husband. After all, his last promotion had meant another thirty
five hundred dollars a year, and he seemed so enthusiastic about
the Dallas meeting. Perhaps she was wrong in being so quick to
judge him. His neglect in the bedroom was only from exhaustion,
and exhaustion she thought was the result of his loving her. But
it had been months ... three months since he had touched her.
She stood before the mirror, her robe falling from her
shoulders. Her hands cupped her breasts while she examined them
carefully in the glass. There are no signs, she thought. Age
hasn't come for me yet. For a moment she took a quick inventory of
the rest of her body and decided that it was as good as it had ever
been, then turned to continue the packing.
At five O'clock the front door opened. "Honey, are you
dressed? Martin's with me."
Oh, no! she thought, when she heard his voice from the living
room. She had hoped for at least a few minutes alone with him
before he had to leave. Opening the bedroom door, she could see
her husband mixing a fast Martini behind the bar in the den. She
glanced at the gray flanneled back of the six foot, grey templed
man standing in the center of the room, Martin Kelly.
"Hello, Martin," she said.
He turned to look at her, greeting her with a large grin as he
always did. She smiled back at the soft, grey eyes that always
seemed to penetrate her when they looked in her direction. Martin
Kelly had no excess on his face or his body. Janet admired him for
a quick second. She always marveled at how well he looked. Except
for the greying temples she would never have thought him to be a
day over thirty-two or three, but then, forty wasn't old either.
She walked past him and met Greg halfway across the room. He
gave her a drink and handed one to Martin, neglecting to kiss her
on the cheek as he had done for the first three years of their
marriage. But had sadly neglected doing it since they had moved
from Louisville. For some reason he hadn't had the inclination to
give her that little kiss of reassurance that she needed so badly
each time he came home in the evening. "To Dallas and a quick trip
home," Martin proposed and the trio drank to the toast. Janet
downed her Martini in one unusually quick gulp, the disappointment
readily apparent in her face.
"Hey, that is not like you at all," Martin smiled to her and
gestured playfully with his finger.
And Greg didn't even notice, she thought rather bitterly, "It
was too good to waste by letting it warm," she smiled grimly back
at Martin, not even looking at her husband. "Besides, I have to
celebrate my husband's promotion all alone tonight, so I may as
well get started early."
"That's almost right," Martin said and turned to Greg with a
twinkle in his eye. "Shall I tell her?"
Greg nodded slightly as he drank. "Your travelling husband
and I talked it over in the car and decided that you shouldn't miss
a party just because your old man is out of town."
Martin's smile never faded as he talked. "Darleen and I will
take you to the club without him. The table has already been
reserved and everything has been especially ordered. Besides, I'm
still not too old to squire two women at once, if it's only for one
night."
"Oh, Martin, I don't know," she started, but he interrupted.
"Don't be ridiculous. I've already talked to Darleen. She's
been spending the last three hours getting ready for this. She
doesn't mind sharing me for part of one evening. So you can't say
no," he said, taking her hand warmly.
"In that case, Mr. Kelly, I simply cannot refuse," she said
dramatically. "What time will you call, sir?"
"At eight sharp. Can you be ready, Madam?"
"Of course," she answered.
Greg broke in, "Enough is enough for both of you lovers. I've
got a jet to catch. Come on Martin, let's get a move on."
Janet walked her husband to the door and kissed him goodbye,
feeling his impatience to leave as he drew away from her. She
watched him walk to the car and stood in the doorway, her arms
hanging limply at her side.
"See you at eight," Martin shouted.
She nodded and smiled, watching the white convertible back
from the driveway onto the street and roar off toward the corner
and the airport. Goodnight, Greg, she thought and turned back into
the house closing the door behind her, not wanting the fresh air to
touch the single tear that had dropped to her cheek. A deep sense
of loneliness rippled through her, a loneliness she had been
carrying with her since Greg's move into the upper echelons of
business, and one she hated with all her heart.
Two hours later Martin and Darleen Kelly shared a small
pitcher of Martinis in their bedroom as he dressed. Darleen sat on
the bed, propped up against the headboard with a large pillow
behind her. At thirty six she looked every bit as good as the
younger Janet, but her own self criticism and fear of growing older
blinded her to the fact. Her black hair was cut in the latest
Sassoon style. She wore a mini-shirt that revealed a year round
tan on her full, sensual thighs and nearly every man she came into
contact with looked at her with more than just idle curiosity. She
was a beautiful woman, but no man could take advantage of her and
she knew it. It was usually the other way around.
"It's working out better than we thought," she said. "Do you
think she's ready?"
"Ripe for plucking," he said, smiling at his pun.
"You are too, too funny," she told him. I hope you're right,
though."
"Have I ever been wrong about a woman before?" he said, not
waiting for an answer. "You should have seen the look on her face
when we drove away. Janet is the loving wife alright, but she has
been so neglected by Greg that there will be no trouble at all.
And even if there is, I can change her mind. With what I know
about Greg, I could convince her of anything. No, sweetheart,
getting her hot, little body between the sheets will be no trouble
at all."
"No, I suppose not darling, not with that fatal charm of
yours," his wife answered with a slight tone of sarcasm.
"But don't forget your part of the plan," he said, ignoring
her jibe. "Greg probably won't be that easy."
"Don't be so sure of yourself, Martin. With the right
circumstance he'll probably be as easy as you are," she said with a
coquettish smile. "I can show him one helluva lot more than that
pretty little wife of his and I'll bet he knows it. You saw how
attentive he was the last time they were here. If you hadn't said
no, I would have taken him to bed right then."
"You are anxious, aren't you?"
"Jealous?"
"A little, perhaps, but I always am, for a moment at least.
But that doesn't last longer than it takes me to get into the rack
with your friends."
"You had better hurry," she said looking at her drink.
Martin finished adjusting his tie and brushed back the grey at
his temples with his hands. "I'm ready, with time to spare. I
wonder how she's going to react when I tell her you have a
migraine? And," he added as an afterthought, "Wherever you go
tonight, stay on the other side of town, away from the club. If
she saw you it might ruin everything."
I don't think it will but I'll stay away from your little
precious game. I should find entertainment somewhere tonight, like
maybe at Peter's club. There's always more than enough excitement
there."
"Well, don't let your excitement stay too long if you bring
him home. I'll be back before three," he said as he left the room,
hurrying so that he would be knocking on Janet's front door at
exactly eight o'clock.
Janet had been ready for twenty minutes when she heard Martin
rap at the door. She gulped the last of her Martini, the fourth
since Martin and her husband had left, and walked rather unsteadily
to the door.
Martin entered and walked her to the living room where her
mink stole lay haphazardly across the back of the chair. She told
him she would fix him a drink but wouldn't have one herself. He
refused and picked up the mink.
As they walked out the door he told her that Darleen had a
terrible migraine and wouldn't be with them. Janet thought it was
strange that Darleen should get a headache on a night like this,
especially after spending all afternoon getting ready. Nothing
seems to be happening right today she thought with a slightly
audible sigh. Well, I hope nothing else goes wrong.
"Well, Martin," she said with a forced smile. "We may as well
enjoy our evening alone. Two stood up people have to do the best
they can."
He smiled at her as he closed the door of the convertible,
then walked to the other side. Once seated he turned over the big
engine and pulled away from the curb. Janet usually paid attention
when Martin drove. She thought he was still a teenager at heart,
the way he sped through residential areas, not to mention the
ninety mile an hour rides on the freeways, but tonight she didn't
care how he drove. Her thoughts were centered around Greg and her
marriage. Confused and hurt she had no idea how to recapture her
husband from his work. She decided that she didn't care about the
money, about the big promotions, the house, anything. She wanted
her husband back. He has been a stranger too long, she thought
almost desperately. I must find a way.
Was it possible that she was losing, or perhaps, had already
lost her sex appeal. Her mind searched every avenue trying to
discover the real cause for her husband's neglect. Her ears were
deaf to Martin's continuous flow of words as they drove along the
freeway at his usual ninety miles an hour. Janet was oblivious to
the traffic and the danger. Her mind was already fogged by too
many martini's.
Perhaps, she thought, she could make Greg jealous. Then he
would pay attention to her. He would have to. It certainly
wouldn't be hard. She wouldn't have to do anything. She could be
secretive about her night out with Martin when Greg asked her how
the party went. There could be no harm in that. Martin was a good
friend.
She smiled and sat a little straighter, adjusting an imaginary
out of place hair on her head. After all, Martin wouldn't mind
being used ... especially if he didn't know about it.
Janet had never even flirted with the idea of being unfaithful
to her husband. Their marriage had always been satisfactory
enough, up until the last three months. More than a few men had
asked her out, knowing she was married. Always flattered, but
never unfaithful, she had always turned them down.
It is a good idea, she though, turning her attention to the
man behind the steering wheel. Her eyes searched the lines of his
profile looking for discrepancies, but could find none. I wonder,
she thought, how he is to Darleen in bed. "Oh," she said out loud,
amazed that she could have had such a lewd thought. Never in her
life had she any ideas relating to other people's sex life. It had
always been a private thing, not to be discussed or even thought
of.
"What was that for," Martin asked her.
"Oh, nothing," she said, I-I forgot my compact. I remember
now, I left it on the dresser." She was embarrassed to talk with
him after picturing him in bed with Darleen, but she couldn't get
the thought out of her mind. She even wondered how he might be
with her, how he might please her. She fought to purge the images
from the back of her head, but they persisted, until suddenly, she
hiccuped from the embarrassment.
Martin laughed. "How many of those martini's did you drink
after we left," he asked. "More than your share I'll bet. Do you
feel like continuing?"
Not wanting to spoil the evening for Martin, too, she said,
"Of course, I want to go. These silly things will go away. All I
have to do is hold my breath ..." she took in a lungfull of air,
raising her large firm breasts higher, straining against her dress.
For nearly a minute she imprisoned the air in her lungs, while her
face reddened under her light make-up. "... Like that," she said,
exhaling, "and they'll be gone. See! Hiccup!"
They both laughed at her failure to rid herself of the slight
discomfort. "Try putting your head between your knees and holding
your breath again," Martin said. "That works when nothing else
does."
Eager to rid herself of hiccups and equally as eager for some
unknown reason to please Martin, she did as he said. She pulled
her miniskirt higher up her legs until without her realizing it, it
exposed the soft smooth flesh of her upper thighs. Martin could
hardly keep his eyes on the road while he watched her put her head
down between her open knees and inhale another large, deep breath.
Her long tanned thighs invited him to touch them and it was all he
could do to restrain himself and keep his hands on the wheel.
Janet kept her head between her knees a little longer than
necessary. Alcohol and her sudden wicket thoughts of what Martin
would be like in bed gave her the bravado of a little daring that
she had never experienced before. She enjoyed having Martin look
at her legs as she knew he was doing it but it couldn't hurt
anything, and besides, she half giggled to herself, she was
titillated by the cool air from the vents blowing around her opened
thighs.
She had a smile on her face as she lifted her head up and
exhaled. "I think they're gone," she said, waiting a moment to be
sure. She purposely left her skirt high on her thighs. She
enjoyed the cool air. She wasn't ashamed of feeling slightly
excited, if only in thought. Why Not? It can't hurt anything.
"Here, have a little of this," Martin said, pulling a flask
from the glove compartment. "Martinis from the flask, ready to
drink. I always mix some before I go out. It saves not only time,
but a little money if I'm half-lit before I get to wherever I'm
going."
Janet started to refuse, but changed her mind. So what, if I'm
drunk, she thought. One or two more won't hurt. I'm not a child.
I can hold my liquor as well as anyone.
She took the leather covered flask and put it to her lips,
taking a full swallow, and strained not to start coughing. It
tasted strange for a martini, but she didn't dwell on it. She had
no idea that Martin had fixed the bottle with something extra
before coming to pick her up. He was well versed in aphrodisiacs.
He had put just enough in so that they would not be affected too
strongly ... only enough to be suggestive. He would let the liquor
and her disappointment with her husband do the rest.
He pulled into the club's entranceway, stopped and walked
around the car to open the door for her.
"Oops," she said giggling as she got out of the car and nearly
stumbled. "I've had too much to drink already."
"Nonsense, silly girl, you're just not used to the night air,"
he said, the smile still spread across his face.
Brace yourself, Janet thought as they neared the door, but
somehow she didn't feel as nervous about going to a topless show as
she had before. The five Martinis has relaxed her nervous code of
ethics until she saw the billboard in front of the club.
"FIRST IN LOS ANGELES--TOPLESS AND BOTTOMLESS."
She gasped when she saw the sign, trying to cover her shock.
For a moment she stood still, halting Martin on his walk to the
door. Oh no, she thought. I can't ... but ... I'm a grown married
woman now. I can take this. She giggled again trying to suppress
her strict Midwestern morality and walked through the doorway,
followed by Martin who tipped the doorman his usual exaggerated
tip.
Janet felt her sobriety weaken as she entered the club.
Strobe lights beat a weird rhythm to the music. For a brief moment
she focused her eyes to the strange light and discovered that she
was having trouble walking with the lights beating at her eyes in
the off and on strange patterns.
She glanced at the stage to see six overlarge breasts bouncing
to the wild music. Quickly she lowered her eyes to the floor to
watch her feet follow Martin and the Maitre d' to their table.
"Anything wrong," Martin asked her, knowing all the while she
was shocked.
She shook her head bravely and he ordered cocktails from the
waiter, her moving head only further confusing her senses. The
strobe lights beat a strange and haunting rhythm on her brain and
body. The potion in the flash had taken effect, but she refused to
recognize it at first. She watched the dancer until she heard
Martin's voice at her ear.
"Where are you, Janet? You look a thousand miles away."
"Oh, no, Martin" she quickly apologized. "It's just that I've
never seen anything like this before. I wonder how those girls must
feel up there with nothing covering them, dancing hour after hour.
They must be awfully bored."
"Probably no more bored than you."
"Martin, no. I'm having a wonderful time" she apologized
again. "If I'm a little silent it's just the liquor. Really, you
could never bore me." "That's not really what I'm talking about,"
he said.
"I don't understand."
"I mean Greg. I know it's probably none of my business, but
I've noticed that he doesn't pay any attention to you anymore. I
wasn't surprised at all that you had been drinking when I picked
you up tonight. I've been hitting the bottle pretty hard lately
myself because of Darleen. So I know how you feel."
Janet listened to him, feeling the warmth of his breath as he
talked to her. He had moved closer so that she could hear him over
the pounding music. She suddenly felt very close to this man. They
were sharing an experience and she felt a kinship that only a
shared loneliness can bring.
"I didn't know, Martin. I thought you and Darleen were happy.
I've never noticed anything that would make anyone suspect you were
having problems too."
"Oh, we're good actors, Janet. It's been almost three years
since we've really gotten along. We haven't even been to bed
together in the last year. I sleep out in the guest room."
Janet was shocked. "I had no idea. Here I've been brooding
about my life and I'm in heaven compared to you." She leaned over
and kissed his cheek affectionately.
Martin smiled under the flashing strobes. It was going even
easier than he thought. "Is it alright to ask what is wrong
between you and Greg?" he said.
"I'd tell you if I knew," she said. "But there seems to be no
answer. I've thought it was his work, but even on the weekends he
is too busy for me. I guess I'm just losing my sex appeal. I'm old
before my time."
"Nonsense," he said. "There isn't a man in this room who
wouldn't want to take you to bed right now."
"Martin, you're so sweet."
Yeah, I'm sweet, he thought. "Let's dance. The music is
slower for a minute or two. They've got to give those dancers a
break sometime."
The couple joined the throng that headed for the dance floor.
There were always more people dancing when the music slowed. Janet
swung into Martin's arms and felt them close protectively around
her. The drug's effect was at its full power as their bodies met
and started to dance to the slow rhythm. The drum and bass beat in
tune with Janet's heart as she followed Martin slowly around the
floor.
Her breasts were straining through her dress against him. She
wore no bra and the taut nipples nearly pierced the thin, sheer
material. Greg had never let her wear a bra, saying that it
weakened her pectoral muscles. He was right, she thought, as she
felt her breasts crushed harder against Martin's strong body. She
could feel his leg slip between hers as they danced. A light
dampness eased its way from her vagina to the pink lips of her
vulva, giving her warning. She had never felt like this by just
dancing. There seemed to be no explanation for the fire that was
building inside her. She tried to pull away from Martin. Making
Greg jealous was a good plan, but she didn't want to go too far.
But Martin had other plans. He knew the potion was affecting
the girl as it was affecting him. Instead of allowing her to move
away he tightened his grip around her waist and pulled her tighter.
Even though afraid, she felt comfort in his arms and her body clung
involuntarily to him as though she suddenly had no control over it.
Janet closed her eyes, trying to put the flashing strobes out
of range, but their intense light shown through her eyelids and
seemed to beat harder into her mind. The tempo of the music had
increased yet the pair held close to each other, still dancing with
their bodies almost as one. The young wife's mind was playing
sexual fantasies deep within her. Her body was responding. She
could feel her breasts heaving against Martin, with only the thin
veneer of light summer clothing between his chest and her taut
nipples.
The music, liquor and aphrodisiac had become too much for her.
She opened her eyes, seeing a single topless dancer undulating on
the stage. Janet began to dance the same patterns as the girl as
she pushed away from Martin.
Soul music, Janet thought. I can feel it! I can feel it!
She jerked her body in rhythm, throwing her arms, feeling her
breasts bounce beneath the sheer white dress. She was perspiring,
aware only of the hot flashes of abandonment coursing through her
body.
As she danced, she watched the single girl on the stage.
Instead of being embarrassed, as perhaps, she normally would have,
she was intent on becoming that girl. The dancer's bare breasts
moved with halting grace under the influence of the rotating
lights. Janet's imagination transported her to the stage, dancing
half-nude in front of more than two hundred people, throwing her
arms in the controlled sensual movements of a professional Go-Go
Girl.
Her hips jerked to the beat, perfectly in tune with her
bouncing breasts. She felt free, alive. She was in a sexual world
of her own, but wanting, needing a man. Suddenly the dancer on the
stage unfastened her G-string and let it fall to the floor,
exposing the thin, open slit of her clean-shaven womanhood.
Janet felt no shock at the sudden display. Instead she
remained dancing, now nude in her own mind. To her, reality was
not on the dance floor, but on the stage. She was that girl. She
was totally naked before the crowd. Her loins were on fire and she
was a woman! She was a woman!
She looked at Martin, dancing three feet from her, imitating
the same soul searing African movements of the dance. Beads of
perspiration dotted his forehead. She began dancing for him, not
aware of who he was. His image was fogged before her. This, for
the moment was her man and ... she was his woman!
The fire between her legs grew as she threw up her arms and
tossed her head from side to side in a dance that imitated the
sexual act. Her hips thrust forward, again and again and Martin
responded by moving closer, grinding his pelvis at her as though he
were taking her right there on the dance floor.
Their bodies were inches from each other. One of Martin's
legs was between hers as they danced, rubbing against her exposed
thigh. Her miniskirt was hiked high on her legs as she bent
backward and forward in the most primeval motions of dance.
She watched Martin's hand come slowly toward her like a snake
in the Garden of Eden, beckoning, urging her to come closer. The
hand found her waist and drew her closer until their bodies touched
at their loins. Janet could feel his penis hard beneath his
trousers, straining at her. She ground her hips against him. Her
mouth was opening, breathing heavily, spurred salaciously on by the
growing fire inside her. The lights flashed in brilliant colors on
her half-open lids. She put her hand on the back of his neck,
leaning backward, pushing her enflamed crotch against his straining
penis. She stared at him, her eyes searching for his identity.
Each beat of the drum pounded at her, exciting her further. She
could feel their bodies touching, touching. She imagined them to
be on a bed, ready for each other, ready for the final thrust that
would connect their flesh together.
Martin pulled her closer, then suddenly kissed her, crushing
her lips against his open mouth, thrusting his tongue deep into her
throat.
Oh my God, she thought. What is happening! The shock of the
sudden kiss had awakened her from the wild, sexual stupor. She
wanted the kiss, but knew it was wrong. They mustn't. "No, Martin
..." she tried to say, struggling away from him. She was
frightened, knowing that he still excited her, that she wanted him.
But she had gone too far. She must stop. She turned and walked
quickly, but unsteadily from the dance floor toward the door,
bumping into people as she left. Martin followed her to the
outside, picking up her wrap at the hat check.
Chapter 2
Ashamed of herself, Janet whimpered quietly as the white
convertible sped along the freeway. Now I've ruined our friendship,
she thought bitterly. How could I have led him so far? I only
wanted to make Greg jealous and now I'll hurt Martin. How selfish
could I have been to have thought I could use him like that?
Deep in self accusation Janet failed to notice the bright
lights of the exit turnoff. Martin had driven off the freeway far
from either of their homes. He knew exactly where he was going.
The girl, far on the other side of the car, paid no attention to
him, but he didn't care at that moment. He knew the liquor and sex
potion were still powerful enough to turn her on again if he played
it carefully. Her seduction was assured. The plan was working
perfectly and with no possibility of flaws.
Janet watched the lights of the city grow smaller as they
drove up Mulholland Drive. Her senses were still fogged. Each
impression that she received through her eyes was a singular,
momentary one, giving her time to analyze each light, each sense.
She felt as if she had been smoking Acapulco Gold, an exceptionally
strong Marijuana that she and Greg had tried once at a wild party.
The drug had scared her and she had never attempted to try it
again.
But for now she needed no Gold. Her mind slowly drifted to
peace as she watched the beautiful city unfold below her. It
spread for miles in lines of brilliant lights, illuminating every
block of the Los Angeles valley. She felt completely alone until
the car pulled into a secluded parking spot at the topmost
viewpoint of the drive.
"I thought you'd like the view," Martin said matter-of-factly
as he got out of the car. He walked to the other side and opened
her door, holding his hand for her to grasp as she nearly stumbled
from the interior of the automobile. "It's too beautiful a place
to pass without stopping on a clear night like this. Besides, it
should clear both our heads a little," he said with a reassuring
laugh.
Janet said nothing as she followed him toward the edge of the
cliff. They watched in silence for a minute. She was awed by the
creations of electrical engineers that had illuminated one of the
largest cities in the world with bulbs of every size, shape and
color, giving it an almost supernatural glow.
It seemed perfectly natural to her that Martin should put his
arms around her waist as he stood behind her, looking over her soft
shoulders at the spectacle below. They still were friends, she
thought, and she felt strangely at home in his arms. For a moment
the guilt returned. But I'm not using him now, she thought,
desperately trying to convince herself that the lewd sensations
flickering through her body meant nothing. We're friends! That's
all, just friends!
The rationalizing thought kept pounding through her mind--and
then was gone--as Martin slowly lifted his arms, positioning his
hands at the fullness of her quivering breasts. He cupped their
firmness with his large palms and fingers, prodding at them as they
stood quivering straight out from her heaving chest. He could feel
the taut nipples pulsating eagerly beneath the thin material of the
light dress. The cool air and events of the night had kept them
almost hard since they had been dancing half an hour before at the
discotheque and his expert ministrations urged them on. Janet's
head lolled back without resistance against his shoulder as he
urgently massaged her soft, resilient flesh. She put her hands
over his, entwining their fingers. "Ooooh, Martin," she murmured
softly, her body shifting with the movements of his hands. There
was no thought now of her husband, no thought of the man she had
vowed to love. Only the gentle urgings of the hands manipulating
her flesh into the white hot heat of desire.
Cupping her hands over his at her breasts, she started to
turn, but Martin took the lead and pulled her around to him. They
stood, their bodies touching full length and looked at each other.
He's so good, she thought. So gentle. Nothing he could do would
be wrong ... nothing ... A rock hard bulge in his trousers
twitched involuntarily against her smooth, flat belly. She could
feel the dampness between her legs renewed as her suddenly
salacious thoughts envisioned what the huge swollen member would
feel like worming around deep inside her. There was no turning
back now. It was good ... soooo good. And almost eagerly she let
Martin draw her lips to his and kiss her, softly at first, then
more urgently.
Her lips were pressed hard against his, open and willing to
take his tongue as it probed the depths of her unresisting mouth.
Small moans of erotic stimulation gurgled from deep in her throat.
The drug had made his touch seem godlike. She was a Grecian
princess standing on a hill above ancient Athens, about to be taken
for the first time by a ghostlike creature who had come to her in a
dream. A strange, erotic dream that knew no right or wrong, only
love, an all consuming love that mattered above all else...
They stood motionless. Martin pulled his lips from hers and
gazed momentarily into her eyes. He knew she was ready but she
surprised him by how ready she was.
"Oh, Martin," she cried, her body trembling like a leaf in the
wind. "Do it to me, Martin." Her words were those of a woman who
hungered for escape from the fears that plagued every young wife.
She was afraid of being alone, afraid of being unloved and her
words came as a surprise to her too, but she did not try to take
them back. She had said them, and she somehow, through the honesty
of her alcohol and drug-dimmed mind, knew she wanted him. The drug
had taken complete control of her mind and body and nothing else
mattered.
Martin smiled triumphantly to himself and thought for a moment
to take her right where they stood, but held himself back and led
her trance-like to the open car door. He had not released his hold
on her. His hand fondled her one breast as the other hand reached
for a lever on the back of one seat, releasing a catch that held it
upright.
Janet smiled to herself dazedly as she watched the seat
descend to a reclining position, then bent and robot-like entered
the car. She released the other catch herself and rolled onto her
back on the seat as it fell gently back. She lay back trembling on
the car seat, her legs slightly parted and waiting to be taken.
And, in spite of her desire, she was slightly afraid. It was all
new to her. For all practical purposes she felt like a virgin. No
man had ever touched her except her husband, but now he seemed like
only a dream. Everything was so unreal. Each movement of arms and
legs and bodies as the couple came together in a fiery embrace, was
slow motion, preplanned, unhindered by inhibition.
She felt his legs tangled in hers, pressing hard against her
thighs. He kissed her neck. His moist tongue pursued a course
under her throat and down her chest to the valley between her
breasts. She reveled in his touch. No man had touched her in the
last three months. No lips had tried to caress her breasts as
these were doing. She felt him slip the straps of her dress over
her shoulders and pull the top lower until suddenly her quivering,
erect nipples were free in the air, free to be touched and
tantalized.
"Ooh, yes," she whispered. "That feels so good." The girl
spread her thighs farther so that she could feel the fullness of
his strong thighs pressing against the wetness between her legs.
Janet responded to the grasp on her wrist as he pulled her
hand down to his throbbing penis. She voluntarily stroked the
massive muscle that was trying to free itself from the imprisonment
of his clothing. She rubbed softly at first, then harder, exciting
her partner. For a moment she stopped as he half rose and stripped
her dress from her body.
Martin halted long enough to look down in the dim moonlight at
the sleek, sensuous curves that lay beneath him. There was no
flaw, no blemish. He could see the darkened patch of soft pubic
hair beneath the white silk bikini panties she wore. He tugged at
them and she lifted her hips to ease their removal.
While Martin hurriedly undressed himself she lay hypnotically
back, watching, waiting for the moment she would see his straining
cock spring free from his shorts. It was as large as any she had
imagined. Even when she had been stroking it she had not thought
it would be as large as this. Greg was nothing compared to the
giant of a man that kneeled on the car seat beside her and a shiver
of lewd anticipation rippled through her again as she thought of
its thickness grinding around deep up inside her belly.
For a moment he knelt above her trembling form, his breath
coming in quick, excited gasps. Then he fell upon her, ravaging the
softness of her naked flesh with warm, wet kisses. His cock
pressed hard against the outside of her thigh. Its heat searing
into her tortured nerves. She writhed against him, trying to get
him to change his position, but he was the leader. They would make
love as he wanted, when he wanted.
He ran his hand quickly down her sides and across the soft,
silken mound at the base of her belly. She could feel the fingers
grope for a moment, spreading the softness of her pubic hair, then
finding the smooth, fleshy slit between her legs, suddenly slip
into place and begin gently massaging her swollen clitoris.
"Oh, oh, oh," she gasped.
It had been so long and now, forbidden, she was going to be
taken by another man, by her husband's best friend. She lifted her
hips to meet his finger and increase the pressure.
"Put it in," she begged. "Please put it in."
Martin responded by swiftly slipping his finger into her open
vagina. He pushed deeply.
"Oooooohhhhh," she sighed as he began to rotate it around
inside her in large circles, caressing the smooth, fleshy walls of
her cunt with a maddening thoroughness she had never known before.
"Ooooooh, god, Martin," she groaned through her tightly
pressed lips. Then he slipped another finger into the open
passage.
"How do you like that?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, please, more," she sighed, sucking in her breath
from the excruciating pleasure he was bringing her.
He moved his fingers back and forth inside her, like a small
child walking with his fingers. Janet closed her eyes and pumped
her loins upward again and again. Her vaginal opening was tight
from so little use, but it seemed to flower open farther and
farther as his probing fingers excited her to greater and greater
heights, seeming to remove all the ugly frustration of the last few
months.
"Please," she murmured, tiny beads of sweat forming on her
forehead. "Take me now, Martin, please! I can't stand it any
more!"
Her cries excited him even further. He was no longer in
complete control. His friend, Greg's wife, underneath him was all
that he expected and more. Her desires were so hot, so urgent,
that he was compelled by his own impatience to meet them. "Yes,
now," he said and guided his massive cock up between her wide-
spread legs and against the small, tight opening of her cunt. He
probed for a moment, teasing the soft, hair-lined lips and feeling
the wet, raw flesh beneath it open wider.
He lowered himself upon her. "Oooooooooooh, Oooooooooh!" she
cried as she felt the hot, huge head slip wetly inside her, worming
slowly into her yearning passage and filling her with all the
hardened flesh she could stand.
Outside the car it was pitch-black above the city lights
below, but inside the white convertible bright flashes of white and
blue lights electrified the air. Janet's lust-incited senses
completely controlled her as her husband's best friend thrust his
cock deeper and deeper up into her heaving belly. She thrashed her
head from side to side. "Oh more, more!" she cried aloud, locking
her legs open wider to take him as deep as she could.
Martin was surprised at her fury and her lust-abandoned moans
excited him further. He stopped for a moment, his great prick sunk
inside her to the hilt, his balls brushing lightly against the
soft, rounded moons of her ass. She thrashed her head from side to
side, her mouth open, tears of wild, erotic pleasure in her eyes.
She was full, complete!
She was a woman again!
Then the blood-filled muscle inside her began to stroke slowly
in and out between her legs, a few inches at first. Out for an
inch or two, then slipping wetly back inside again as Martin took
control of himself. He wanted this to last; he wanted Greg's wife
to remember this so she'd have no bitches later. Janet groaned as
she felt the movement caressing the smooth, wet walls of her pussy.
She lifted her knees higher and braced the bottom of her feet
against the roof of the car. Her buttocks strained up off the
seat, her throbbing vagina reaching hungrily up for the white hot
rod of flesh as it began to increase its pitch. In perfect
control, Martin guided his straining cock with hard, merciless
precision, lengthening each stroke a fraction of an inch more with
each grinding thrust. Greg's wife groaning beneath him, settled
into the rhythm, meeting his driving pelvis with her own, her wet,
contracting cunt tormented beyond her wildest dreams.
Her insides were about to burst. With each stroke the
brilliant strobe-like flashes in her mind intensified. She thrust
upward, harder and harder, trying to fill herself completely with
him. Never had such a great cock fucked her, never had she known
such excitement.
She dug her nails into his buttocks. Her lover's hands
grasped at her flesh, nearly pulling it from her. The pain of his
strong grip heightened her pleasure. Every measured inch of her
body was on fire with dancing electric shocks snaking their way at
the speed of light through her body, throwing her into a nether
world, beyond the reality of the world outside, concentrating her
entire being on the fucking she was getting.
Her buttocks began to tighten spastically. The muscles
grasped at the cock driving into her and flexed desperately around
it. Her anus puckered again and again, and she tried to hold back
for a moment longer, making the seconds last. Even in her wild,
untamed fury everything was slow motion. Each second seemed like a
minute. The muscles in her belly responded to the call of her
clasping buttocks and warning anus. The time was coming!
A great wave welled up inside her. The first convulsion was
slow in coming. It started lazily, far down in the depths of her
quivering belly and rolled downward like the sea with increasing
power until it hit the bottom of her grinding pelvis at her
opening, crashing against her just as Martin's pelvic bone crushed
into her.
The next came faster, snapping like a whip. She screamed,
"Aaarrrggghhhh! Now! God, I'm cummming now, oh, oh, I'm
cummmmmmiiiiinnnnng! Aaarrgghh!!"
She jerked up as her entire being seemed to snap. Again and
again the waves of orgasm crashed against the cliffs of her soul as
she rebounded with them, jerking upward again and again. Her
orgasmic juices filled her desperately sucking vaginal passage,
lubricating it more and more.
Her flowing juices halfway through her climax brought Martin
to his end. Like a giant Kodiak bear he rose up, throwing his head
in circles to the side. "Aaaarrrrgggghhhhhh!" he roared like an
animal about to attack. The pressure in his balls burst as the hot
fluids erupted out through his straining tubes and spurted from his
reddened cock deep into her open cunt.
She was still cumming when she felt his juices hotly filling
her belly, adding more wood to the fire. "Oh. OOOOooh, perfect,
Oooooh!" she cried out, her head rolling helplessly from side to
side on the squeaking car seat.
Completely spent, Martin fell on top of her. She was crushed
by his weight. Her eyes were closed, but her attention was still
focused on the furnace within her. They had finished, her legs
dropping limply to her sides. The moment of remembrance, of
savoring the entire act now occupied her.
She lay still, thinking of the pleasure she had experienced.
Martin breathed heavily by her ear. But, also with the end of the
climax had come the end of the aphrodisiac's effect and Janet's
dazed mind began to focus on what she had done. It felt so good,
yet it was so wrong, she thought through the rising guilt. Oh God,
what am I going to do? I can't tell Greg, yet I don't know what to
say to Martin. It was my fault, she thought, unaware that she had
been drugged. All my fault!
"We had better go," Martin said as he lifted himself from
between her thighs. He handed her the white panties, still moist
with the fluids of her earlier excitement and she said nothing as
she dressed in the car. Small tears began to fill her eyes. She
didn't want to hurt this man. He was so kind and yet the guilt and
shame of her betrayal of her husband lay heavily within her.
Neither said anything as they drove toward her home. She
decided that Martin might be thinking exactly what she was
thinking, that it was a mistake, something that would not have
happened if they had not been drunk. He would understand, of
course, he would. After all, he had understood everything else
when they had talked before. But, she vowed to herself, it also
was something that would never ever happen again as long as she
lived!
Chapter 3
The white convertible turned into the alleyway that led to the
Richard's suburban home. Martin turned off the lights as he guided
the sleek '68 model car along the narrow roadway until they were
behind her house. She lay half lifeless on the seat beside him.
Her tears had dried streaks of mascara on her cheeks. She had
cried for most of the ride until finally no more tears would come.
No matter what had been going wrong between she and Greg, it was no
reason for infidelity. Her mind was made up. She would tell
Martin that the mistake would not happen again. She would not tell
Greg, and beg, if she had to, for Martin not to disclose what had
happened. With this new understanding, perhaps both the Kelly's
and the Richard's could work out their marital problems. She had
no fear. Firm in her convictions, she felt like Joan of Arc, ready
to do battle for what she believed was right. There was no other
course.
"Wake up," Martin told her. He was unaware that she only
feigned sleep. "You're home now. Wake up, Janet."
She turned and shook her head as if to thrust the sleep from
her foggy mind. Rather than talk on the drive home, she had
pretended to pass out. It saved unnecessary talking and had given
her the time she needed to think.
"I'm awake, Martin," she said as he got out of the car and
walked to the other side to let her out. "You don't have to walk me
to the door. I'm fine. Besides, there is something I want to tell
you now. If we can get this straight, then there will be no
problems."
"You can tell me inside," he said as he opened the screen
door, taking the key from her hand and unlocking the door. "What
we need is some hot coffee if we plan to talk."
"No, Martin, really ..."
"You're not going to say no to me now, are you?" he said,
almost pushing her inside with his hand. He looked for a moment
for the illuminated night switch, then flicked it up. The
fluorescent lights flickered hesitantly before sharing their energy
with the rest of the room.
Janet did not want him in the house. This was her refuge from
Martin and the outside world. It belonged to her and to Greg.
"Martin, please, not tonight."
"I like mine black," he said curtly, walking through the
swinging door to the living room as though he owned the house.
Janet stood in the glaring light for a moment, not knowing
what to do. Perhaps, if she gave him the coffee, she could make
him understand. She turned, looking for the coffee, but could not
remember where she kept it in her own kitchen. Get a hold on
yourself, she thought, as tears started to fill her weary eyes
again. How am I going to do anything if I fall apart. Where is
the coffee? The white canister stood where it always had on the
counter next to the built-in range.
She walked to the counter and removed the wooden lid.
Automatically she scooped six tablespoons of the freshly ground
beans into the clean white pot. Staring at the percolator she
became impatient that it would not perk immediately. This is
ridiculous, she thought. I'm standing in my own kitchen making
coffee for a man who has just screwed me in his hopped up
automobile, a man who is supposed to be my husband's best friend,
and now I've used him, and he is going to think it represents
something more. Why must I have these problems? Not even the damn
coffee pot will work right. What is becoming of me. Am I so
rotten as to hurt Martin as well as Greg? Please hurry, coffee!
Her hair was tangled and she tried to straighten it. The
image reflected in the glass door of the oven was one of a woman
who did not deserve the good life she had, she thought. I look
like a whore, and now I'm beginning to feel like one. But I'll
find a way out, I just have to. The coffee started to boil over.
It had been perking too long.
"Where's my coffee," Martin shouted just before she swung open
the kitchen door and entered the room. Martin was sitting on the
overstuffed couch in front of the stone fireplace. He had built a
fire that was already roaring. He was looking through a new
woman's magazine that Janet had purchased the day before.
"These women's magazines are unbelievable," he said smiling
almost contemptuously at her as she crossed the room. "There is
more sex and sex problems in this single issue than anyone would
ever suspect of finding in Lady Chatterly's Lover. It's no wonder
that women can think of nothing else to talk about, except their
sex lives, or the sex lives they wished they had. I probably would
too if I read this kind of trash all the time."
"That's not so," she said, finding that she was defending
herself. She wanted to get to the point and make things clear to
Martin. Confession was supposed to be good for the soul. She
wanted to tell him that she had used him. Perhaps, he would
understand. He must understand, she thought. He's too kind, too
intelligent not to.
"Those magazines have good advice, Martin. Maybe if more women
read them, and maybe men, too, you and I wouldn't have the marriage
problems we do," she said, handing him a cup of hot black coffee.
"Thank you. Here, have some of this," he said, pulling the leather
covered flask from his pocket. I saved some for us."
"No, Martin, I can't," she protested as he poured a shot into
her cup. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Martin. What
happened tonight was a horrible mistake. It just can't be allowed
to happen again."
"A mistake. Who the hell are you trying to kid. I'm not a
school boy, young lady. You practically raped me on the dance
floor, and certainly didn't object when we drove to Mulholland.
Now you are going to try to tell me it was a mistake? What's the
matter, didn't you like it? Say no to that and you take the cake
as liar of the year."
"Martin, we were drunk ..."
"Oh, Hell, who are you trying to kid. You were as horny as a
goddamn bitch in heat."
"Please," she said. "Try to listen. I don't want you to
misunderstand. You must believe me. I ..."
"Drink your coffee. We came inside for coffee didn't we?" he
said. "Don't shake your head. Drink your coffee!" Janet obeyed.
His tone frightened her, and she picked up the cup, sipping at the
laced drink. Surprisingly the liquor he had poured into the cup
wasn't bitter at all. It added a little something to the taste,
more of a tang, than an alcoholic taste. She took a big gulp.
Martin smiled.
"Martin, I was going to try to make Greg jealous. I wanted to
use you. I'm sorry for that. I didn't mean it to go so far. I--I
just got carried away."
Martin laughed. He spilled some of his coffee. Use me, he
thought, that has got to be the ultimate. She wanted to use me.
He couldn't stop laughing.
"What's so funny? What did I say, Martin? I didn't mean to
hurt you." His laughter increased to an almost roar. "Stop it!
Please stop it!" she screamed.
He settled down for a moment, still smiling his contemptuous
smile. Neither said anything for almost a minute. Janet was
terrified at the grin on his face. For the first time since she
had known Martin, she was aware that there was more to his smile
than mirth. "Why--Why were you laughing at me?" she asked.
"I suppose you could call it a private joke. I've never been
used by a woman before, not to go to bed anyway."
Janet sipped at her coffee. She was beginning to feel
slightly dizzy again. The movements in the room were slowing down.
The fire made it much too hot for her. She wanted to hurry and
undress upstairs and climb into bed. The thought of bed
unexpectedly excited her.
"I told you," she said. "I didn't want it to go that far."
"Sure you did. But do you think for one minute that I'm going
to believe you. You work well, and fast. I never saw a woman so
eager to fuck."
"Martin!" she exclaimed, unable to say any more. The word had
shocked her, but the thought it conjured only excited her. She
could not understand the sudden erection of her nipples as he had
said it. She was afraid of the eyes that looked intently at her.
"What do you plan to do, Janet? Tell Greggy boy that his
little wife took his best friend out and screwed him in his car
like a teenager?" he said, his grin widening. "No, I don't think
you will. I'm still his best friend, and a deceitful man would
believe a friend before he would believe a deceitful wife."
"What do you mean deceitful man?"
"For Chrissake, don't tell me you don't know that your
precious husband is a thief."
"What? You're wrong. You're lying, Martin, Why? Stop it.
Please don't."
"He didn't tell you, did he?" Martin said, knowing that she
was innocent of her husband's wrong-doings. "How do you think that
you can afford this nice house, or the new car or the color
television and stereo? Do you think Greggy boy did it all with his
own little hands. Well, on second thought, he did," he laughed
again, "but with sticky fingers."
He watched her shocked look. Tears streamed down her already
tear stained face in long black streaks from her mascara.
Impossible! she thought. Greg would never lie to me. He would
never steal. Martin watched her for a moment. "Your display of
loyalty and shock is touching, but entirely useless. If you didn't
know before that he was stealing, then I'm doing you a favor by
showing you that your husband is a man you can't trust to tell you
his most important secret, the one that is haunting him, keeping
him out of your bed. But then, he may have found another bed more
to his liking. If he could lie to you about this, he could
certainly lie to you about screwing another woman."
"Please," she sobbed. "It's not true! I know it's not!"
He ignored her plea. "I can prove every word of it, at least
about the embezzlement. And if I tried hard enough, I could
probably find a mistress of his somewhere in town. I know him well
enough. Probably better than you do."
Janet absorbed his words slowly, one at a time. The drug had
already taken effect, accenting his usual precise speech and
manner. He took another sip of coffee. "He can't trust himself,
how will he be able to trust you either." He said. "Imagine the
look on his face if he had seen us in the car."
"Oh, Martin, how could you? I thought you were so ..."
"So sweet? Wasn't that what you said earlier? It's about time
you learned that there is very little in this world that is sweet,
starting now."
Janet could not comprehend the full impact of what had
happened to her in the last few minutes. Her world was tumbling
down on top of her like a fallen fortress, whose walls had been
demolished by a tremendous onslaught of cannon fire. Fear was
building in her, but so was another unexplained emotion. For the
first time in her life she knew that she was completely at another
person's mercy, but she wasn't as frightened of that fact as by the
uncertainty that life now held for her.
"Do you think you could afford to expose us to Greg? Would it
be worth his life in prison to you? You are going to do everything
I tell you Janet, and without delay. If not, Greg will spend the
best years of his life in jail."
"Martin ..." she started to argue with him, but knew there
were no words that would change his mind. "What about Darleen?
she'll find out sooner or later."
"You still haven't caught on, have you? Darleen knows all
about this tonight. Do you think she could get a headache after
spending half the day getting ready to go out with us. Not on your
life. She was out getting herself screwed half silly, just like
you. The only difference is, she'll never see him again. But I
plan to see a great deal of you."
Janet sat motionless as he moved across the couch to her. Her
coffee was gone and the drug held her in complete submission to
whatever would be demanded of her.
"I'm going to see a lot more of you," he said. "Starting now."
"What do you mean?" she asked between the soft heaving sobs
coming from her throat. The girl had begun to regain control, but
still did not completely understand what he wanted of her. The
shock she had suffered, realizing that he was not the kind man she
had thought still clouded her mental senses. She could not quite
grasp what he wanted. Afraid to admit that he wanted her for a
part time bed partner, she tried to find other solutions, but
nothing would suffice.
"You're not stupid, Janet. Figure it out for yourself."
"You don't mean that you expect me to continue ..."
"Precisely. You enjoyed it as much as I did, probably more.
We can continue for a long time, with no annoyances from your
husband. His mistake has become our good fortune. He can't
object, and for his sake, neither can you."
It was true, she thought. There is no way out of this but if
he will only leave now, I'll be safe until I can think of
something.
"You're trembling. Are you afraid?"
Janet could not answer. Her voice was caught in her throat.
Though she felt the heat from the fireplace, her body shivered with
chills. It might have been easier for her if she hadn't already
submitted to Martin once. But the thought of his lovemaking moved
another shudder through her body. She had enjoyed it. There
remained no doubt of that. Martin was more experienced than Greg.
He knew how to make her feel like a woman wanted to feel. But ...
The nagging fear, the strict Midwestern upbringing, the morals of a
church centered society still plagued her. She was married to Greg
for better or worse. I just can't, she thought. I just can't do
it again with another man.
"I want some more of that tight little pussy of yours." Martin
said grinning lewdly and looking down at her exposed knees.
Janet reached nervously for the small pot trying to stall him
off. "I don't mean coffee, baby, we're going upstairs, to bed.
There's enough aphrodisiacs in the two cups that we've had to keep
us going all night."
Janet recoiled at his words, she didn't know what to think.
Had she really been drugged? Was all of this such an evil plan,
that every detail had been taken care of. Janet suddenly realized
that more than a victim of circumstance, she had become a victim of
a drug, a horrible drug that took her control away.
Aware of the cause, she now knew why everything had gone into
slow motion. She knew why his touch had been so satisfying, so
intriguing. "Let's go," he said. I don't like to waste time."
The girl refused to stand and he pulled her to her feet.
"We're going to screw in your husband's bed. Won't you like that?"
he said smiling. "I'm going to fuck you like never before, and you
won't stop begging for it until you can't take anymore!"
His words were true. She knew that he could do all that he
said and the sounds that vibrated through her head as he spoke
intensified the growing feeling inside her. She stood helpless as
he turned her around and unfastened the back of her dress and let
it fall to the floor. Her panties were in her purse, where she had
put them after they had finished in the car. She was completely
naked and exposed to the fire whose flaming warmth licked over the
sensitive nerves of her skin like some evil tongue of the devil of
lust. Her nipples rose at the sudden exposure to the air. She
stared straight ahead as though in a trance as he surveyed her
body. But, in spite of her immobility, she seemed to sense the
physical presence of his eyes as they traveled over the whiteness
of her body, looking searchingly for flaws that they would not
find.
Martin undressed himself as she stood a few feet from him.
His penis was soft and swayed as he stepped toward her. That was
the organ which had given her so much before, she thought. And
now, it didn't seem to be what she wanted, but her body knew
differently. A dampness swelled in her vagina lubricating her
passage and softening the already soft, silken lips of her vulva.
"Upstairs," he commanded and her body obeyed mechanically.
Her mind refused to follow his directions and with all the
willpower that she could muster she tried to stop her legs from
moving, but it was no use. Each step was as if she were walking on
a cloud. She was in a dream world, swaying with every motion. She
felt his hand touch her soft, swaying buttocks as he followed her
up the long staircase.
Janet stopped and turned on the stairs to look down at the man
following behind her. She watched his large, still soft penis
swing back and forth like a pendulum as he climbed the last two
steps. Then, when his face was level with her loins, he bent
forward and kissed the silken hair on her pubic mound. His lips
seared lewdly through and into the nakedness of her overheated
skin. She could feel his tongue wet a small portion of her flesh
and the goose bumps rise all over her as it brought an involuntary
shudder rippling through her body.
Oh no! I can't do this, she thought, helplessly, and turned
panic-stricken to run into her private bedroom, seeking sanctuary.
It was her domain, hers and Greg's. No one could intrude. It was
her fortress, her castle, fortified with the strength of her love
for her husband. Nothing could conquer that. She was safe! Safe!
But, a moment later, Martin entered the room. His smile was
still bright, even in the dim light. He was a man sure of himself,
sure in the knowledge that he could possess this girl anyway he
wished and no one, particularly her, would stop him.
Janet dropped to the edge of the bed and watched him, her eyes
open wide and her tortured mind knowing she could retreat no
further. There was no where else to go.
"I didn't know you were so anxious." he said, his lewd grin
broadening. "I'm glad you see things my way. If we cooperate, our
times together will be most pleasurable for both of us."
Janet sat looking at him. Her gaze was transfixed on his
eyes. She clenched her hands into the bed spread and spoke. "I
can't do this, Martin. I don't care what the cost." But her words
were soft. There was no authority and only a minor note of
conviction. Janet knew that the speech she was trying to make
would do no good. Her body was warm. A fire was building down
between her legs, a fire stoked only by the obscene picture of the
naked man standing before her and for some reason she knew she
would not be able to resist if he so much as touched her.
Martin walked toward her. Standing only a foot from her he
held out his hand and touched her breast, teasing a nipple with his
fingers. His large penis hung waiting, like a patient cobra
between his legs. It was soft and heavy. "You've finished with
your childish tantrum, I hope?" he questioned, knowing the answer
in advance.
He pulled her closer to him, holding her head close to his
hairy stomach. She could smell the odors from their sexual
encounter an hour before and her heart began beating faster. Her
fear was transforming to sexual excitement. "Suck it!" he
commanded pushing her head lower to his penis. "I want it in that
pretty little mouth now. Suck it!"
Janet was frightened at what he had said but her vagina
involuntarily filled with more fluids as the lewd, obscene thought
whirled around in her confused mind. She had read of felatio in
some of the magazines, but never had tried it with Greg. It was
too awful, too perverse! "I can't," she groaned, "please, Martin,
don't make me do it. I just can't."
But the heavy hand on her head pushed her mouth closer to the
soft, smooth tip that hung a few tantalizing inches from her face.
Tears flowed from her eyes, across her cheeks to the skin of
his abdomen. And slowly as though she were hypnotized, she took
the cock in her hand, kissing gingerly. It wouldn't bite, she knew
that, but it wasn't right, it wasn't human.
But, it was hot in her palm. "Suck it!" he commanded
fiercely.
She hesitantly leaned forward and kissed the top of his penis,
moving her mouth toward the end. The head was terrifying. Her
fear was terrifying, but she must obey. There was no other way.
She must obey Martin and the new, exciting craving deep within her
belly.
Her lipstick covered lips opened slightly and the soft rubbery
head slipped easily into her saliva filled mouth.
It was larger than the average man's, certainly larger than
Greg's and it slowly began to grow even larger in her mouth. She
didn't notice it at first as she sucked it gently and rubbed her
tongue softly at the loose foreskin on the bottom. It grew more
quickly as it filled with blood and Janet's eyes opened wide with
alarm as it responded excitedly to her wet, nibbling caresses.
But, oh God, it was growing too fast. It would be too big for her
mouth!
She started to release her grip on it, but he pulled her head
back harder against him. The massive cock seemed almost white hot
as it grew to its full size against her tongue, hard and throbbing.
She could feel his quickened pulse as the great prick pulsated
impassionedly in her mouth.
Unable to catch her breath, she gasped. She was choking on
the massive flesh that reached back toward her throat, but Martin
kept his grip on her head, and she found herself adjusting by
necessity to the intrusion. Careful not to bite him, lest she
incur his wrath, she slowly and deliberately began to suck again,
moving her head almost imperceptibly back and forth.
"Use your tongue more, you hot little bitch." he growled down
at her, his eyes locked lustfully on the top of her bobbing head as
he watched the elastic flesh of her ovalled lips drawing out slowly
and then sinking back inside again as she slid them forward.
Eager to please she began swirling her tongue around it as
best she could as she sucked at him. Her head moved faster as it
slid back and forth along the length of his cock, never allowing it
to leave her mouth completely but always leaving a tiny fraction of
an inch inside the shelter of the warm, moist cavern of lips.
Martin held his head back, no longer holding her head. He was
still standing as she sucked him. The wetness of her mouth and the
constant sucking had put him into a euphoria. He clenched his
buttocks in rhythmic flexing movement, in tune with her head as it
slid along the length of his huge cock.
"Hum," he commanded. The single word was enough for her to
begin making a humming sound in her throat and nasal passages. She
felt completely debauched. Not only must she suck this man but she
must submit to his even more depraved demands. Tears filled her
eyes as the sound of her humming grew louder in her eyes. She
wanted to scream, she wanted to stop and run out of her bedroom,
out of the world.
But it was too late, for as she sucked and moved more and
more, a new feeling was creeping into her mind. Urged by the needs
of her body, and coupled with the sound of her voice, she felt a
passion rising in her. She could feel every inch of the twitching
cock in her mouth and the hair of his muscular thighs brushing
against her breasts as she moved. Instead of revolting her, it
suddenly became an object of desire. She began to suck harder,
wanting more and more. There wasn't enough! Wasn't enough!
She could hardly keep her breath as she tried gasping for air,
sucking all the time, working at her salivic glands trying to get
more moisture into her mouth. She wanted it wetter, hotter! She
wanted him to come in her mouth, filling her with the white hot
fluids she now felt she could not live without! She wanted to be
debauched and used as she had never been before! Oh God, she
wanted it!
Above the sound of her sucking and humming she could hear
Martin gasp. Her buttocks were bouncing up and down on the bed,
her teeth hurting him as she sucked, but she wanted him to cum, to
cum now. Her own fires burned hotter between her legs. Her free
hand lifted itself from the bed and slid to her vagina. Quickly
she inserted a finger and began finger fucking herself to the
rhythm that her mouth was beating on his cock.
Martin's gasp changed. "Aaarrgggghhhhh," he moaned aloud as
the dam behind his balls broke. His hips jerked forward, ramming
into her mouth as the hot liquid fluids spurted deep into her
throat, spewing more and more of his cum. She was nearly choking,
trying to swallow the thick, warm liquid as it filled her mouth,
bloating out her cheeks almost to the bursting point.
He relaxed momentarily, but let her continue sucking him. His
cock felt as if it were fine crystal being shattered into a
thousand needles of broken glass. He looked down to see her hand
between her open legs, desperately trying to work herself to a
climax. He grabbed it and jerked her fingers from her vagina with
a quick, wet sucking noise.
"That's mine," he said. "You let me take care of that. Do
you want me to suck you or fuck you?" he grinned down lasciviously,
enjoying the torture he was putting her aroused body through. But,
his friend's wife was too excited to do anything but suck at his
now deflated cock. He pulled her head away, a thin trail of sperm
following from her lips. But her mouth remained open. She needed
his cock so badly and it was soft. She leaned forward to put it
back between her parted, sperm glistening lips. She wanted it
hard, and hard now.
"Answer my question," he hissed, lifting her face so that he
was gazing directly into her lust-glazed eyes. "Shall I eat you or
fuck you? Make up your mind, bitch!" He knew that for the moment
with his deflated cock he could never enter her, but he taunted her
with the cruel words of hope.
"Lay back on the bed, if you won't answer me." he said, and
watched her roll over flat on her back and spread her legs as wide
as she could, her hips grinding hungrily down into the softness of
the mattress, her open vagina pointed directly at him. "Tell me you
want it," he said, his grin widening at her helpless need.
"I want it," was all she could murmur in her agony of desire.
"Not that," he yelled. "Tell me the words. Say what you
want, you horney bitch. Tell me you want to be suck and fucked!"
"Yes, please ... Please fuck me, suck me, anything, just do it
to me! Now, Please!" she begged, her head lolling helplessly from
side to side on the mattress.
Janet could not believe her own words. She had never ever
consciously said words like that before, but he was forcing her
now. Each time he spoke something more cruel was done to her. She
knew she would never ever be the same again. How could she face
herself after saying them. He mind whirled in a haze. Tears of
confusion, shame and passion flowed freely from her eyes, but the
fire licking down in her belly needed quenching. "Please," she
cried unashamedly, "Please fuck me. Ooooohhh, please!"
Martin was smiling again. This was exactly what he had
wanted. With her so excited, so confused he could do what he
pleased with her helpless body. He kneeled on the bed and she put
her arms up to pull him onto her, but his cock wasn't hard yet. He
would worry about that later.
He picked up her right foot in one hand and kissed the bottom.
A chill ran up her leg like a zipper opening every pore on her
thigh. No one had kissed her foot before. It was totally new,
totally exciting. She felt as if his tongue had reached into the
depths of her very being.
Carefully, slowly, he kissed at her foot, moving slowly to her
ankles, then up her leg. She knew what was coming. Just as she
had never sucked Greg, he, too, had never eaten her. He had tried
to kiss her around her loins before, but she had always stopped him
at the last minute, her puritanical upbringing triumphing over her
desire but all that was forgotten now.
Now she reached down to grab Martin's hair and pull him faster
to the open, pink lips of her throbbing pussy but he slapped her
hands and proceeded at his own speed until a seeming eternity later
she could feel the beat of his breath tickling the soft, inner
flesh of her thighs.
"Are you ready for this?" he grinned down between her legs.
He delighted in teasing her and knew she was near the breaking
point. Any more delay and she would turn into a raving maniac.
"Yes, yes," she gasped, looking down between her breasts at his
leering face. "Please, now suck it suck it good!"
Satisfied that she could take no more teasing for the moment
he spread the soft hair-lined lips with his fingers and flicked out
his tongue at the swollen bud of her clitoris.
"Ooooohhhh," she moaned, closing her eyes tight and spreading
her legs wider.
He flicked with his hardened tongue again, this time letting
it rest a little longer on the throbbing center of her pleasure.
Nothing was ever like this, she thought as her mind whirled in
ecstasy. Her head thrashed back and forth. She breathed in gasps.
It was almost too much. The pleasure bordered on pain. She wanted
to climax, but was only at the brink, not able to bring herself
over to the final culmination that she so desperately wanted.
He slid his tongue down the moist, hairlined furrow from her
clitoris to the opening of her pulsating cunt and thrust it into
the warm, wet channel as far as he could. "Oh, oh, ooohhh," she
cried. "Harder, harder." He continued licking her, pushing his
tongue in to the smooth, slippery walls as far as it could go.
His hands clenched at the cheeks of her ass and a single
finger slid its way across the milky white flesh to the rubbery
ring of her anus. He probed at the opening softly and she writhed
her hips at the unexpected touch. She hadn't anticipated what was
about to come.
"Don't stop," she begged as he lifted his head from between
her legs. He was hard and wanted to put his tremendous tool to use
again. His finger remained for a moment toying with her anus. Then
he ordered, "Turn over."
No, she thought, as she struggled to roll her body over as he
had commanded. He can't be, he isn't! Knowing that Martin would
go to any length to humiliate her further, she was afraid of what
might happen. She and Greg had always had sex in the male superior
position with no variations. Now what was to happen? Her mind,
fogged by the drug and the lusting minutes that his tongue had
played in her fiery vagina could do nothing to control her body.
She did as he said.
"Spread your legs," he commanded harshly as he massaged the
soft yielding flesh of her perspiring buttocks. Then his thumbs
spread them apart, exposing the tiny elastic ring of her anus. She
clenched the muscles that controlled her sphincter tightly. He
bent and kissed one cheek and slithered his tongue to the virgin
anus and licked at it gingerly for a moment.
Oh my God, she thought. He was going to do it. Please ...
"Please, no," she whimpered down into the bed spread. "Not that."
But he ignored her and pushed against her thighs as she tried to
close them. The bed and her legs were wet with her own excited
fluids of near orgasm. He smiled noticing the liquid remnants of
the extreme pleasure that he was giving her before. Now, now he
would do something that no man had ever done to this young wife,
not even her husband.
He slipped his finger along the soft crevice between her
buttocks until it reached her anal opening. He probed it with no
success. She was fighting him with all of her might, clenching her
buttocks as tight as she could. "Please, no," she cried again.
"It's wrong. It's wron ... arrggghhh," she moaned as he pushed his
finger into the tiny, rubbery opening up to the first knuckle. How
tight, how sweet it is, he thought, as he watched his hand and her
squirming bottom as he pushed his finger further and further up
into the resisting channel. Then with a final thrust all the way
to the hilt until his palm pressed flat into the soft, flaccid
cheeks of her ass. "Ooowwweeee," she moaned. "It hurts. Stop,
please stop!"
"Quiet, Sweetheart," he told her. "You've had nothing yet."
There was a cruel, unyielding relish in his voice as he began
to rotate his finger deep around inside to loosen the passage. He
could feel the soft, buttery smoothness in her rectum as he
skewered her like an animal and his grin widened more at the lewd
thought of taking her there. But to Janet, writhing beneath his
hand, it felt as though her whole backside was pierced with pain.
It seemed like he was going to tear her open. And ... a moment
later in her confusion she thought his finger had grown larger, but
with a piteous moan realized that he had slipped a second finger
into her back passage.
She was sobbing openly now, blubbering wetly like a child.
The pain tore at her insides like a hot probing poker. Her
frustration at being able to do nothing to stop this man built a
rage in her, a rage that would know no normal release. But there
was nothing she could do to stop him.
Satisfied that the opening was primed for him, Martin removed
his fingers. He's through, she thought. He's not going to do it.
Oh, thank God, thank God! She breathed a long sigh of relief
hoping perhaps she had satisfied his perverted desires. Maybe he
would leave her alone for the rest of the night. Though she was
still in need of climax, she could do that herself after he had
left. The aphrodisiac still had its hold on her, but not enough,
she thought, to overcome the hurt and humiliation of his
perversion. Her attention centered on the furnace in her vagina in
an effort to ignore the pain that still permeated her behind.
Martin repositioned his body. His weight shift on the bed had
not been noticed by the girl. She had no idea what he was going to
do until suddenly she felt his long, overheated cock sliding up the
crevice of her buttocks toward her anus.
"You're going to like this," he said, waking her from her
fantasy. "It'll only hurt for a minute."
Her eyes were wide open in terror as she heard his words and
felt his great massive prick probing at the tight, puckered opening
of her rectum. This was the ultimate submission, the ultimate
disgrace. She had been used by this man in the worst ways she could
have imagined, and now he would do this to her, push his huge cock
deep into her rectum where not even her husband had done it to her
before.
He nudged the weapon forward slightly and she tried to clench
the muscles tighter but failed. His warming up exercise had left
the muscle tired and useless ... "Aaaarrrggggghhhhhh, it hurts,"
she screamed as the rubbery red crown of his cock wormed its way
into her forbidden passage. "No, no, no!" she sobbed, begging him
to stop.
But it was no use and she knew it. The fiery dagger was
forcing its way further and further into her and there would be no
respite. The pain raked her insides and she started to pass out,
but a last ounce of courage kept her conscious. If she would
suffer this, then she must suffer it. But, Oh God, she thought,
her brain screaming inside her head, it hurts, it hurts so ...
The change came suddenly. No longer the pain, no longer the
torment. The shock, the newness had turned to a sudden, almost
masochistic pleasure. The borderline between pain and pleasure had
disappeared. They were one to the young woman whose tear-drenched
face was turned into the pillow while her husband's best friend
ground his cock in long easy thrusts down into her widely stretched
rectum.
The red hot crown of his cock rubbed against her insides,
caressing the hitherto untouched flesh. Visions of unseen places
and pleasures flashed through her mind. She was rocking on a sea
of passion, rolling with each wave as he pushed at her. She
responded, lifted her bottom higher, then pushed backward to slap
her buttocks hard against his driving pelvis as he rammed into her.
"Oooh, Oooh, Oooh," she grunted, beads of perspiration pouring
heavily from her forehead. Their bodies dripped with sweat as they
worked harder into a frenzied fury, racing to the climax, each
wanting to get to the finish first. Her final subjection to his
depraved desires had become the fiercest and most erotic moment of
her life. She was being used as she had never thought possible,
and she liked it! She liked it! He forced her to do as he wished
and she wanted it no other way. She knew that there were endless
possibilities for them now. There was no thought of her husband,
Greg, or anything else that had been so important to her only a few
minutes ago. The intensity of the moment had overtaken her.
Bodily pleasure was all she craved and she was getting all that and
more too. She was getting it all!
Martin could hold back no longer. The scraping of his cock
along the sides of her overheated rectum were taking their toll.
He had nearly split her open. Her small ringing squeals of pain
and pleasure testified to that. But his concern was no longer for
forcing her to do what he wanted for he was rapidly approaching the
end.
He could feel the doors that held his climax unlock. The
pressure behind them was too much. The first spasm of orgasm
unleashed itself in his balls as the white hot sperm swarmed
through his passage. He jerked back. "Now," he yelled to the
ceiling. "Now, I'm cumming, I'm cummmmmiiinnnnnggggg!" And the
white hot jets of cum shot from his cock like a blasting rocket.
The hot, fiery liquid spewed into Janet's lasciviously
rotating rectum in wet, streaming torrents the sperm easing his
last dying thrusts. She felt as if her insides were being filled
with hot, thick cream, the same cream that she had swallowed only a
few short minutes before and, with each slowing thrust of his cock,
it forced his semen deeper and deeper up inside her and pushed her
closer to the edge of orgasm.
Unbelieving, she screamed, "Aaarrrggghhhhhh," as she pushed
hard back into him again. It felt like a thousand hornets were
stinging at her as the muscles of her stomach and lower abdomen
contracted, then like a huge serpent, rose up and struck at its
unseen victim. "I'm cumming," she howled. "I'm
cummmiinnnnnggggg," like an animal freed from its darkened cage and
finally able to see the light of day, she was stunned and blinded
by the awesome power of the ravaging climax.
Then with one final scream of never ending pleasure, Janet
fell forward on the bed exhausted. The orgasm had left her almost
senseless. Never before had she experienced such a total
involvement in sex. But also, the end of the climax brought the
end of her desire. The potion had been no stronger than to last
until she had cum one time, and now it was drained from her body
like everything else.
The pain returned to her anus where Martin's cock, still half-
hard, rested. His penis was sore from the ravaging he had given
her tight rear passage and gently he tried to pull it from her.
But even though her passage was wet and lubricated with his sperm
the pain remained. He would have to pull it out quickly, like
removing a splinter. The faster he pulled, the faster the pain
would cease.
With one mighty jerk he yanked the soft deflated member from
her backside with a sudden wet, sucking noise. "Ooooooooh!" she
groaned half consciously, tears flooding from her eyes. The final
indignity, she thought hazily. She suffered with silent sobs as
Martin rose from the bed and started to leave the room. He would
have to dress downstairs in front of the fireplace. Her dazed mind
barely heard his words. "You loved it, and you'll want it some
more, won't you? In any way I want to give it to you," he gloated
triumphantly, knowing what her answer had to be.
"Yes," she said limply, "I liked it, I loved it." She was
astounded by her words. In the span of a few short hours, she was
becoming a slave to this man who owned not only her body, but was
bidding for her soul. She seemed to have no control to resist him.
She knew that she would do anything he asked. She had no choice,
it meant protecting Greg, it meant protecting her sanity. There
was no other way.
She fell quickly into an exhausted sleep when he left the room
to dress and take another swallow from the small, leather covered
flask. He would need some more of the potion.
Darleen was expecting him at home.
Chapter 4
"It's quarter to three. My husband will be home in less than
ten minutes," the naked woman on the bed said lazily.
Darleen's new lover jumped quickly to the floor and dressed in
the dark with the hurried precision of a man who had known many
close calls with faceless husbands.
"Why did you tell me you were divorced?" he asked.
"Never trust a woman," Darleen laughed and turned her back to
him as he quickly left the room checking all his belongings as he
ran down the stairs to his car parked in the driveway.
Darleen didn't know his name. She hadn't even bothered to
ask. Four hours ago she had been sitting in Peter Grant's
discotheque, Grant's Tomb, and the young man had sat beside her and
bought her a few drinks. In return she gave him some small talk
and a wild hour in her bed. She was still excited and not
completely satisfied. No matter how hard she tried with so many
other men, only Martin satisfied her the way she wanted. The
adulterous act of sleeping with men other than her own husband only
increased the excitement of making love with him. Her other lovers
were only preparation for each night's romp with her husband.
"That was a pretty wild getaway he made. He nearly knocked
over the garbage cans," Martin said, framed in the doorway by a
small hallway light silhouetting his large, husky frame.
"He decided rather hurriedly to leave," she said, smiling.
"How did it go with you?"
He crossed the room like a man who had just won an election.
The sureness of his step showed Darleen that she need not have
asked. He slid open the closet and began undressing.
"It was easier than I thought," he said. "She was hornier
than I had anticipated. We only spent an hour at the club and by
the time the dancers had finished she was ready to go right there."
"Well, don't be so damn smug" she said. "And come and tell
Mama how you did it."
Martin related the story to his wife, exaggerating slightly.
Darleen was hurt as she always was when he told her of his affairs,
but excited by his story, imagining herself writhing in the front
seat of the car under his powerful thrusts.
Her eyes were glazed when she asked, "What happened afterward?
Is she going to tell Greg? Did you use the embezzlement?"
"Don't worry about a thing, sweetheart," he said, crossing the
room toward the bed. "I've done this so many times to so many
sniveling little wives that it's almost a repeated dialogue. We'll
have no trouble from her and soon you shall be able to try Greg on
for size. You'll like that, won't you?"
Darleen turned her head into the pillow, not wanting to look
at her husband as he sat on the end of the bed. "Martin, please,"
she pleaded. "You always make it sound so dirty. Why is it that
I'm always at fault when I'm with another man and you ... you're
such a saint. There's never anything wrong with your activities.
Why am I always nothing but a whore?"
She faked a sob, but no tears came to her eyes. Whenever the
two of them had found other lovers for the night, they repeated the
same scene afterward. Neither was serious, but Martin enjoyed
tormenting her and calling her names as much as she enjoyed the
suffering at his hands. He played the roll of injured husband and
she the role of the unfaithful wife.
He would shout at her, call her names and she would respond to
the whip of his tongue, each painful word a delightful snap at her
backside. She could feel herself moistening between her legs in
anticipation. Her nipples, already erect, awaited his touch, his
kiss that she knew would come soon.
They had been married fifteen years and for nine of those
years they had been taking other lovers and swapping partners with
couples they met. Most of the couples would soon fall out of the
arrangement, usually moving out of town, or at least across the
county. Many of the men would find work elsewhere in the area to
avoid contact with Martin. More than a few couples had ruined
their married lives by contact with the Kellys, but other people's
fate was not the Kelly's concern. They were holding their own,
Darleen thought, precariously, but holding their own. Her body
shifted on the bed as he changed positions. "Whore," she heard him
say quietly. "You're just a whore with a gold band on her finger.
You'll never be anything but a whore. You've always been one and
nothing you can do will change that."
She loved the words. She was no good, she thought, and
deserved all that he was saying. There had been many lovers before
Martin, and scores since they had been married. But one thing kept
them together. No man could please her as he did. No man was
cruel enough, hard enough or could give her what she needed.
Most of her lovers were only preludes to what would come to
her at home. A single climax with any of them was not what she
needed. They were her tools to excite her before she knew she
would be taken by Martin when she finally got home. He would
torment her and curse her, but then when he finished with the
insults, he would screw her like no man would ever dare.
She shuddered with delight. "Whore," he said again, this time
louder. "You'd take any man any time. How can you live with
yourself!" His voice was stern, but she could detect the note of
pain in it, the pain of a man who had been wronged. They were both
good actors for this scene that took place at least three times a
week and she always knew what was coming next.
She braced herself. His slap was hard. A red mark rose on
her buttocks where he had hit her. Her whole bottom tingled. "Oh,
don't," she cried, knowing that he would do it again and excite her
even further. He slapped her again and the soft flesh of her
smooth, silky buttocks quivered like flaccid jelly.
"You'd even go to bed with that brute, Monroe, if he came to
you," he said, his voice feigning a threat. Monroe was Peter
Grant's bodyguard. He had been a former professional football
player and his six foot five inch frame held two hundred and sixty
pounds of solid muscle. He guarded Grant twenty-four hours a day,
keeping his employer from any harm. As a nightclub operator in Los
Angeles, Grant had made many deadly enemies as well as friends. He
and his wife knew the Kelly's intimately.
"No, Martin, never him. He's too big, he'd kill me!"
"Do you mean to say I'm not as big as he is. Have I ever split
you, have I ever hurt you like you think he would?"
"Oh, yes, my darling. But him, he's an animal. I couldn't
take his hairy body on me."
"What about Janet? Do you think she could take him?" he asked
his wife. Her torment increased as he slapped her bottom again.
"Yes, yes, Janet. He could take Janet and we could watch.
Oh, Martin, I'd like to watch that brute screw her until she
screamed for mercy!"
"You would like to see her hurt, wouldn't you?" he said. "She
would beg him for mercy, just like you beg me--right?"
"Yes, please, oh, yes," she cried as he slapped her again.
"Then we will, you wait and see," he said, and pulled at her
body, turning her roughly on her back.
They stared at each other for a moment. Darleen's tear-filled
eyes could see her husband's sadistic smile. They both would enjoy
seeing the girl screwed by Monroe. Darleen would get her revenge
against this girl she had always had the fear might possibly take
her husband away from her.
She always had feared that one of his partners would take him
from her, for Darleen knew she lived on the edge of disaster. If
Martin found a woman that could please him more than she could,
then their life together would be over. There was no hope that she
could find a man who could do for her what he did. Janet would
suffer for being so beautiful, for luring her husband into bed.
It was always the other girl's fault, never Martin's. His
weakness was beautiful women, and Janet qualified as a temptress by
being born beautiful. But she would pay and pay dearly, Darleen
thought. There was no other way for the girl. Janet asked for
whatever was coming to her. Darleen would insure a double reprisal
by seducing Greg. It was only fair.
Martin looked at her, knowing what she was thinking. He
always knew what he would conjure up in her mind by mentioning the
women that he had just finished with. He knew that Darleen needed
revenge to reassure her position. She was alive and fiery, and
could please him as no one could. The gulp of loaded gin he had
taken before leaving Janet's was at its full force. He was ready
now to plunge into his wife.
They both laughed and he fell on top of her, nearly crushing
her with his weight as he sought her mouth and covered it with his
lips, kissing hard, sucking at her tongue as she plunged it wetly
between his teeth. Darleen sucked hungrily at his lower lip,
tracing the hard tip of her tongue against the insides of his
mouth. Their lovemaking was ritual, but never boring. It was
always like the first time for her. The excitement of seeing him
naked and aroused was enough to bring her almost to a climax. She
always had to hold back for this man, bathing in the pleasure he
gave her.
His hands caressed her sides as he lifted himself and
rearranged them on the bed, placing her head on the pillow. She
felt him kissing her ear, nibbling at the soft, tender lobe, then
run his tongue lightly down her neck, across her shoulders to her
perfectly formed breasts. He toyed momentarily at her erect
nipples and she moaned and quivered beneath him as she felt his
moist lips nip at the sensitive, quivering bud.
He had brought her to climax before just by sucking at her
nipples, but she knew that he wanted more this time. She knew that
his screwing of Greg's wife had only made him want her more.
She moaned as he kissed her soft, flat belly. There was no fat
on her body and its softness was feminine, relaxed. Her
anticipation only heightened her excitement. She knew that his
lips were working their way down and would soon be kissing the soft
velvety fleece that curled around her yearning vagina.
As he caressed her with his lips he slowly turned his body
around so that his penis neared her head. He ran his tongue to the
top of her vaginal slit and parted the moist pink lips with his
tongue, at the same time lifting one of his legs over her head and
placing it on the other side. His huge prick and testicles hung
directly above her face. She grasped the organ with one hand and
stroked it softly. The sensations that rose from between her legs
as he licked her shot all the way to her brain. The soft, moist
sweetness that he was kissing was on fire. Each touch of his tongue
was like dry ice, its heat was so intense. She murmured softly and
brought his hardened cock closer to her lips, studying it with her
eyes.
A small drop of clear liquid poised at the tiny slit-like
opening under the smooth, blood-filled head. She leaned forward
and kissed the tip, brushing away the small drop of lubricating
fluid as she did. Then she parted her lips farther, placing a
small fraction of the large crown against her lips, teasing gently
with her tongue while down below every touch of his tongue in the
soft, pink flesh between her legs lit a small new fire in her.
She slid the whole head of his massive organ into her mouth
and pulled the foreskin tightly back, teasing the exposed glans
with the wetness of her lips. "Oooohhh," he moaned. She knew that
she was pleasing him, but she knew always she would. Again she
rocked her head slightly, stroking only the head with her mouth.
She spread her legs farther to give him greater access to the warm,
moist cavern between her thighs.
She could feel his tongue snaking hungrily up into the
passageway, hard and searching. The tip played with the flesh at
the entrance, rolling in small circles at the tender, hairlined
flesh. She sucked more of his rubbery blood-filled cock into her
mouth, sure to moisten the flesh with her saliva as she did. The
veins throbbed with his pulse. She sucked harder until half of it
was in her throat, and already she started to gag. No man could
have an organ like this, she thought. In all her experience, no
one had ever been as big. She held back the choking and proceeded
farther, more slowly, to get as much of it as she possibly could
deep into her throat.
The tip rubbed against the roof of her mouth. It almost
tickled and would have if she had not been so excited. All she
could think of was the cock which lay in her mouth as she sucked,
rocking her head back and forth, and the lips and tongue that
chewed almost child-like at her cunt below.
She flexed the muscles in her thighs. Her attention to the
pleasure of her burning body was complete and unhindered. Every
touch, every breath was a new sensation. She needed no instruction
to open her lips wider, then firmly re-grasp the great massive cock
in her mouth. She moaned, "Mmmmmmm," with the twitching cock still
sunk deep between her sucking cheeks.
Martin had expected the humming. He needn't tell her what
pleased him as he had to do with the other girl that night.
Darleen started humming up and down a scale of deep-throated notes,
vibrating the muscles of her throat against the aching head of his
prick.
He ate at her voraciously. The sweet smell and taste of her
exuding excitement made him only want more of the delicious nectar.
She writhed her hips upward, trying to enclose him with the pink
lips of her aching cunt. "Please, Martin," she begged. "Please,
now."
He responded slowly at first, regretful to take his lips from
the hot, fiery meal between her legs. She released his cock from
her mouth and watched as he suddenly turned around and fell upon
her. He held himself above her for a moment, then, with the head
already in position he slid his cock along the short length between
her clitoris to its pink, open target where it slipped in, unheeded
by any obstacle.
She fit him perfectly. His cock found its place as if it were
a hand slipping into a tailored glove. There was no room for error.
Their bodies were molded to perfection after years of making love
to each other. They knew all the tricks that pleased.
The ecstasy of the moment rose within her as they thrust
together, harder and harder in perfect rhythm. Again and again he
stroked, hard, long strokes, the massive cock caressing the smooth
inner walls of her vagina. The rubbery tip found its mark at her
cervix and pummeled it hard as he thrust deeper and deeper into
her. The half dark room lit up in strange colors, blinding
flashing, mingled with the electrifying shocks that shot through
her body to the seeming depths of her very being.
They were both ready. She could feel the rhythmic muscles of
her abdomen begin to contract spasmodically. "Oh, oh, ohhhh!" she
panted. The sound of her voice told him she was ready. They would
come together as they almost always did. The pressure in his balls
was too much.
As if he had been struck by lightning, he jerked forward. His
swollen balls burst, with the fiery liquid that they had been
holding back for this cataclysmic moment. Sperm shot deep into her
cunt, filling her with the warmth of desire that would culminate in
a few distant seconds. "I'm cumming," he yelled at her between
breaths. "No, I'm cummmmiiinnngggggg!" as the last warm, smooth
jets of sperm shot far up into her churning body.
She arched her back. Every muscle in her body contracted as
she rose up and almost fell to the side in an almost epileptic
attack of contraction. Her sphincter clenched and opened like an
angry fist. Her buttocks flexed to rock hardness as her orgasm
hit. I--I, me too, my darling, I'm cummmmiinngggggg, nowwwww!" she
screamed as the power of her body unleashed at the moment she had
been waiting for all night.
There was no time, no space, no motion in the world, only the
unbelievable experience of her climax as she was hit again and
again by the spasmodic twitching of every muscle in her body. And
then, too soon, it was over, his cock still jerking inside her,
slowly deflating and losing its strength. They both lay exhausted.
As always, they could hardly move. They had used as much effort as
any Olympic champion might when sprinting the last of his race.
Every muscle had been strained and used to its limit, every emotion
had been attained.
He slid off her and kissed her cheek. He was a man, she
thought. Her man! No one else could ever have him like this. Her
mind vaguely remembered what she must do to set that young bitch,
Janet, up for revenge. Darleen hoped she need not worry about the
younger woman, but she would be sure, very sure. She closed her
eyes and fell asleep gleefully planning her next move for Janet and
Greg Richards.
Chapter 5
The whole house echoed with the resounding crash of the fallen
chinaware plate. Janet's nerves were strung tight in her throat.
Every movement, every sound was torture to her. Greg had called
ten minutes before to tell her that he was at the airport and would
be home soon.
During the last five days that Greg had been gone, five days
of psychological torture to Janet, she had broken twelve dishes,
hurt herself falling down the stairs, and had left the checkbook in
a shambles. She hadn't enough self control to subtract a few
simple figures to keep their bank balance straight.
Except for grocery shopping and a trip to the post office to
pay the monthly bills, she had not left her house. Most of that
time had been spent in the bedroom, where she blankly watched
television. She didn't want to see or talk to anyone. The phone
hadn't jangled, so she felt safe that Martin had not attempted to
call. She couldn't bear the thought of facing him or even talking
with him.
She jerked her hand back as she was picking up the pieces of
the smashed plate. A small trickle of bright red blood formed into
a pool on her finger. She washed the blood under the cold water
faucet. At least it's still red, she thought, trying to laugh at
her grim humor. As she opened a drawer near the sink looking for a
Band-Aid, tears began to swell in her eyes.
"But what about my mind," she said aloud to herself. "What
about my miserable mind!"
She could hardly see the small cut through the cloud of tears.
Oh, what have I done? How am I going to tell Greg? Her mind raced
as she fastened the sticky Band-Aid to her finger. How could he
have lied to me for so long? And now, now ... must I lie to him?
Oh, God, I just don't know what to do.
She bent down and swept the last of the broken china into a
dustpan. "Honey, I'm home," her husband's voice yelled from the
front door. "Where are you? I ... oh, hiding in the kitchen, huh,"
he said, poking his dark curly head through the open door. "Break
something?" he asked.
"Just a plate. Would you like a drink?" Her eyes remained on
the small pile in the dustpan. She didn't dare look at him for a
moment. Her reddened eyes would have given her away. She couldn't
let him know that she had been crying. He would ask too many
questions.
"Dinner is ready," is all she could muster. "It's only
leftovers, but there's plenty for both of us. Why don't you fix
yourself a drink ..."
"What's this? No kiss for the conquering hero?"
"I'm sorry, Greg. I ... I'm all wet and dirty. Please sit
down and tell me about your trip," she said, but not really wanting
to hear what had transpired in Dallas. As far as she was
concerned, his whole job was a lie, their whole life was in danger
of becoming a lie. If the company knew what he was doing, she
thought, they would be on the street in five minutes and he would
be in jail only a moment later. We're living on the brink of
disaster and there is no way out, she thought, fighting back the
tears.
Greg fixed them both a drink in the living room as she
prepared to bring dinner to the already set table. She stood at
the door with a platter of cold chicken in hand, braced herself,
then swung the door open, a forced smile on her face and walked to
the dining room.
"Next May," he said, choosing a drumstick from the platter.
"Next May I will be in line for the regional directorship of the
entire West Coast. What do you think of that?"
How could you, she thought as she forced herself to smile.
"Oh, Greg, that's wonderful. Does that mean we can move somewhere
else?"
He answered her question quickly then started talking about
all the opportunity that was in store for them. He talked all
through dinner about the raise in salary and prestige and all the
benefits they would receive in the coming months.
He was still talking as he helped her clear the table and
pulled a coin from his pocket once they were in the kitchen.
"Heads you wash," he said, and tails I do."
Janet watched the coin flip into the air and fall tails up.
Greg started filling the sink while she stood by, dishtowel in
hand, marveling at the mood. He hadn't talked to her like this for
months, not even when he had been promoted to his present position
only a week before.
"That's the last of them," he said five minutes later.
"Fastest dishwasher in the west ... What's the matter, honey? You
haven't said two words in the last hour."
"Nothing at all," she lied. "I was just listening to you. I
haven't had a chance to say anything."
"So, I talk too much," he kidded. "Well, enough of this
talking. Let's get down to some serious business," he said,
pulling her close to him and kissing her hard on the mouth,
completely surprising her. She let him continue, but didn't return
the kiss. Besides the fact that her mind was in torment, she
wasn't going to let him get off the hook so easily for not making
love to her for three months.
"It's been so long," he whispered. "It's been so long, but
that's my fault. I have been so tired trying to work sixteen hours
a day. But from now on you shall see a big difference in the sex
life around here." His apology surprised her and she wanted to
believe him. But she wanted something to do with it too. After
all, she had put up with his neglect for three months and she
should have something to say about it.
Wordlessly he took her hand and led her toward the stairs.
Her tormented mind did not want to make love, but her body needed
him desperately. She held back as he started to climb the stairs.
There was questioning in his eyes. "What's wrong with you?"
he asked, puzzled.
For a moment she said nothing, but only stared at him.
"My God, Janet, I apologized. I want you as much as you want
me. Now let's go up to bed, darling."
"That's not enough, Greg," she said, her tone of voice strange
and hard. She wanted to know why he had not made love to her
during the last ninety days. She wanted him to tell her his
secret. "Just an apology won't do. For three months you've been
neglecting me, in bed and out. You've been short tempered and
almost cruel. You haven't even taken the time to say 'I love you'
more than three times. I think I deserve an explanation."
"Honey," he said. "I told you. It's been my work. I've been
doing for us so that we could afford all the nice things we have."
Please, she thought desperately as he talked. Tell me the
truth. Tell me about the embezzlement. Confide in me. I'm your
wife.
"You don't think it's another woman, do you," he asked.
"There's never been anyone but you and there never will be. I do
love you, and if I had the words I'd tell you how much."
She was silent. You do have the words, she thought. You can
tell me. I wouldn't even care about another woman, but I know it's
not that. I'd know if anyone had come between us, but it's not
another person, it's greed.
"No, I don't think it's another woman," she said. "I trust
you. There is something else between us, something trying to
destroy us, and you refuse to talk about it. Greg, remember, I'm
your wife and I want to help you."
She watched his smile. He's not going to tell me and he'll
destroy us if he doesn't. Martin will destroy us. I don't want to
tell you about Martin, she thought. You are not strong enough to
take it, but then, I'm not strong enough to tell you. Our marriage
might not be strong enough to do either of us any good.
"Come on now," she heard him say as she allowed herself to be
cradled in Greg's arms. "I love you and that's all that matters.
There's nothing wrong." She responded dutifully as he kissed her
again. She wanted him to badly, but her conscience still fought
her desire. Her thoughts turned to Martin and what had happened
five nights ago in the back seat of his sleek convertible. She
remembered the pleasure of his kisses, the excitement of his organ
as it slipped inside her, hurting her. She could not forget the
degradation he had submitted her to, but somehow the thought still
excited her. With her eyes closed, the man who held her now was
Martin, not her husband.
"Let's go to bed," he said, waking her from the dream. The
pressure of his voice on her ear had awakened the napping desires
within her. To bed, she thought as her nipples tightened beneath
her lightweight housedress. He held her tightly to his side and
her legs rubbed sensuously together, exciting her more as they
walked up the steps to the darkened bedroom.
Perhaps they could work it out another way, she thought. But
... she felt his hand cup her breast as he stepped slightly to the
side and let her go through the door before him. This was the room
in which Martin had defiled her marital bed. This was the room
where she had become an animal and sucked at him greedily. And now
she felt her mouth involuntarily salivating and she wanted to suck
Greg, but knew that she could not, not unless he tried something
first. She dared not to do anything that would reveal that she had
been unfaithful. She could not let him know about Martin, his best
friend. What was she going to do? The hand at her breasts kneaded
the firm but pliant flesh, reminding her that desire still lived
within her.
"You'll never need a bra," he said to her in the darkness.
"You're perfect."
Perfect, she thought bitterly, and smiled at him in the half
light of the moon that filtered through the drapes. If you only
knew what an animal I've become. And there's nothing I can do
about it. Oh, Greg, what have I done to you? What have we done to
each other?
She put her arm around his waist as they walked toward the
bed. Her other hand rubbed across the bulge in his trousers as she
reached to unfasten his belt. She must try to make him happy; she
must try to be a good lover for him. Somehow they would make out
alright.
They stood facing as they worked at each other's clothing.
Hurriedly he unfastened her dress and let it fall to the floor, at
the same time kicking off his pants that she had unsnapped and
unzipped. His shirt came off quickly and he kneeled to slide her
panties from her rounded, perfect hips.
The sweet scent of the dampness that was flooding her yearning
vagina entered his nostrils. He pulled the panties downward and
kissed her belly. He nibbled at her skin above the silky pubic
hairs that glistened in their clean blondeness.
Kiss me lower, darling, she prayed silently to herself. Do
what Martin did, please! Make me want you more than I want him!
Three months without sex had caught up with him. He had not
been unfaithful to his wife, only unable to face her, shamed that
he had become a thief, but with the prospect of even further
advancement soon to come for him, he was safe. He would not have
to steal again. The more than ninety days away from her had left
him filled with desire.
His throbbing penis felt as if it were going to burst, and she
had not even touched it yet in its full naked state. He was filled
with a rising torrent of passion and could not hold himself back.
There was no method, no plan to his lovemaking. He was guided
only by what was closest, and at that moment the soft, wet lips of
her vagina were nearer to him than anything. Not thinking that she
might repulse him, he lowered his head a few inches and started to
nuzzle his nose between her legs into the soft, resilient hair that
covered her womanhood.
Instead of being revolted as she had always been before
Martin, Janet was further excited by the fact that her husband was
going into hitherto forbidden territory. He was going to do it to
her just like Martin had! Oh, yes, please, yes. Her heart pounded
at a furious rate as she felt his nose slide through the soft pubic
hair between her legs and part it gently for an infinitesimal
moment.
He pushed her back softly onto the bed and she fell with her
legs spread crab-like and resting most of her weight back on her
shoulders as she lifted her hips to open herself to his probing
mouth.
"Oooohhhhhh," she moaned. "Don't stop, darling. That's
sooooo good,"
Greg was too engrossed to be surprised at her actions. He
thought that his wife too had been without sex all this time and
would be ready for anything. He would not be surprised that, in
order to please herself, she had probably been masturbating during
their abstention. The thought of her finger-fucking herself
brought an involuntary twitch to his blood-filled penis that was
already jerking in anticipation of what was to come.
As he nuzzled in closer, his tongue licked wetly at the
smooth, pink flesh that enclosed the soft, hair-lined opening to
her vagina. Then, pulling himself up so that he too was completely
on the mattress, he felt her tugging desperately at his thigh,
beckoning him to turn his body so that she could also indulge in
sucking him.
God, he thought to himself, she's really ready. I've never
seen her like this before.
Eagerly he turned so that his cock neared her head. He pulled
at her clitoris with pursed lips, torturing the small, throbbing
bud until Janet thought she could stand it no longer.
"Oh, my darling," she gasped aloud as she pulled his cock
toward her lips and with a groan, sucking the whole head into her
mouth at once, swirling her tongue around it voraciously.
"Oooooohhhh, baby," he moaned, feeling her moist, wet lips
hungrily caress the length of his hardened cock. Her teeth toyed
with the edges of his glans, feeling like razor blades cutting into
the reddened flesh. She gulped at him, though her mouth was not as
full as it had been with Martin's great cock, this was better, this
was the man she loved! The man she really loved!
He pointed his tongue and entered the open, waiting passageway
to her insides. Her flesh burned at his touch. The tongue circled
amateurishly at the inner flesh, while he sucked at her. "Oh,
darling," she gasped. "Oh, Martin, please hurry, Martin ..."
Martin! The name lanced through his brain like a pistol shot.
Martin! She said Martin! His cock suddenly deflated like a
balloon in her mouth. Her lower jaw dropped at the sudden
shriveling of his penis, unaware in her wild sexual revery of what
she had said.
He raised himself on the bed to look at her. His eyes were
red with hurt and anger, sheltered by arched brows that could have
belonged to Satan himself.
"You called me Martin," he said almost in a whisper. And
suddenly, coming to her senses, she remembered.
She had said Martin!
Her face turned to a mask of terror. It was over. She was
exposed and vulnerable. From the look on his face she thought she
would never get the chance to explain before, in his wild, jealous
rage, he killed her.
She froze as he lifted himself erect on his knees. "You
bitch!" he screamed as he slapped her viciously across the face. A
red welt immediately rose where his hand had struck.
Tears of pain and betrayal streamed down her still heated
cheeks. She had betrayed herself. "No, Greg, I--I didn't. You're
wrong," she said, looking at him pleadingly, knowing that he didn't
believe her.
"You couldn't resist that big stud, could you," he said, then
slapped her again. The room seemed to break with the sound of his
hand striking her face. "How long," he shouted at her, getting off
the bed and walking to the closet. He faced the closet door. "How
long, you whore?" he demanded, then slammed his fist through the
wooden panel.
Afraid to answer, she sobbed while he waited. "Answer me!" he
yelled at her, turning so that she could see the blood red eyes,
filled with tears of rage. His fists were clenched at his sides.
Every muscle in his body was tight, straining at his skin.
"Once," she answered sheepishly, waiting for his reaction.
"Only once."
"Bull," he roared. "You expect me to believe that!"
He took a step toward her. Her voice broke as she spoke.
"Please, you must believe me. I was drunk. It was the night you
left for Dallas. I was drunk when he brought me home. It was in
the car. I ..."
"In the car! Christ! Like a couple of high school kids!"
"No, darling, please. I thought it was you," she lied. "I
didn't know, until we were in the house and had coffee ..."
"You brought him into the house? Into our house? Into our
bed?"
"No, I, no ... yes ... in the house."
"Did he fuck you here, on this bed," Greg asked. His tone had
quieted. He moved closer to her, standing over her as she cowered
on the bed, trying to tell what had happened.
The same word, Janet thought. He said the same word. Greg
had never sworn in front of her except for an occasional damn.
"Yes, here."
"Say it, you little whore," he said, leaning on his knuckles.
"Say that he fucked you here."
"Yes!" she yelled back. "He fucked me here!" She broke and
started sobbing worse. The lewd grin on her husband's face was the
same one she had seen when Martin had ravaged her on the very same
bedspread.
"Did he play with this," he said, putting his fingers on her
clitoris. She nodded helplessly as he began to toy with the still
swollen bud that ached from go much attention. "Or this," he
asked, shoving his finger hard into the dampened opening of her
vagina."
"What else did he do?" Greg demanded. "This," and he bent his
head and bit at the softness between her legs. "Tell me!"
This wasn't her Greg. She could not believe that the depraved
man slobbering down between her thighs was her husband. She
started to mumble what had happened to her, feeling his tongue
drive deeper into her cunt as she half whispered out the sordid
story of her adultery. It played with her, sending her quickly to
a new high of tense excitement as she talked.
"And he made me suck him," she groaned, her body writhing
beneath his nibbling lips. "His prick was soft when we started and
he made me suck it."
Greg's too, was still soft. But as he nibbled at the open
mouth of her fiery cunt he turned his body on the bed. She knew
exactly what the gesture meant and bent her head, grabbing the
soft, flaccid cock and swallowing it deep in her mouth. It grew
rapidly as she began to suck at it. The head rose in temperature,
heating the entire inside of her mouth.
Greg raised his head from between her legs, "Then what!"
"He made me hum while I sucked him," she answered, her eyes
closed with shame.
"Hum, bitch!" he commanded. "Suck me and hum just like you
did with him!"
Quickly she obeyed. From deep within her throat came a sound
she had heard only once before, the sound of a woman humming as she
sucked greedily at a man's swollen cock. She could feel the
massive prick twitching and throbbing in her mouth. It leaked
small drops of warm, pungent sperm as she sucked, and she swallowed
them greedily. The furnace between her legs was burning her entire
body. Greg sucked at her and shot his tongue again and again deep
into the open, red lips.
"Then did he fuck you?" he asked her, raising his head for a
moment.
"Not exactly," she gasped, almost unable to control her voice.
He wouldn't, she thought. Her own husband wouldn't do what Martin
had. He's not that cruel!
"What do you mean, not exactly?"
"He--he did it to me from behind," she stammered, unable to
look at his contorted face.
"In the ass?" his voice rose increduously. "He fucked you in
the ass?"
"Yes, oh yes, but please don't. It--it hurts, darling, it
hurts," she pleaded as though her life depended on it.
He pulled at her red anus with his finger, contemplating if he
should. But he stopped a moment later. Obviously she had been
forced to do it that way and he would have no part of that. He had
had enough revenge for now. He wanted his cock to drive deep
within her and remind her that her body belonged to him and no one
else. If they were to talk, they would do it later.
He quickly turned his body, meeting her face with his. Her
eyes were blood red with tears but she thought she saw a sign of
remorse as he brought his mouth to hers and kissed her, crushing
her lips with his.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and ground her pelvis up
into his loins. "I won't do that," he said to her. "But I'm going
to fuck you like Martin never could! Do you want me to fuck you
like that?"
"Yes, Greg, please. Fuck me as hard as you can, harder than
ever before. Please fuck me now!" she pleaded, wanting in her
agony for him to destroy her.
He repositioned himself and thrust at her with his massive
swollen cock, but missed her the first time. Rotating his hips
slightly he found the entrance and plunged himself deeply into her.
"Oooooohhh," she moaned. "Oooohhh, I love you, I swear I do,
darling. Fuck me, please," she begged. Her words and groaning
excited him to a new frenzy. For half an hour they had been
tormenting each other with sex and with words. And he could hold
back no longer. He began to thrust himself up into her hot,
contracting pussy as hard as he could.
Each stroke was like the first for her, except that it was
more wanted than the last. Each time she locked her legs out wide
and drove her hips up to meet him. They were both on fire, as
though trying to destroy each other, fighting more than loving. He
wanting revenge on her and she wanting to appease his honor, trying
to hurt herself as they drove harder and harder against each other.
"Oh, arrggggghhhhh," he groaned as his climax hit him like a
thunder bolt. His sperm pulled its way up from the depths of his
balls like a hungry bear falling upon a stray piece of meat, the
white hot liquid shooting in wild, uncontrolled spurts toward the
heat that burned inside the straining belly beneath him. She
grunted, contracting the muscles of her cunt tighter and tighter
around his plunging cock as he erupted again and spewed
relentlessly, spurt after spurt deep into her body.
"Oh, yes! she screamed. "I'm cummmmmmmiiinnnnggggg,
toooooo!!" and arched her back upwards like a tilting wagon about
to go over the edge of a cliff into nothingness. His juices filled
her and crashed wetly into her own as her muscles contracted time
and again, releasing them both from the agonizing torture they had
been subjected to for the last thirty minutes.
* * *
For a quarter of an hour they lay on the bed. At first they
had panted, but the tremors had subsided and they breathed
normally. Greg reached to the bedside table for a cigarette. "Why
did you do it?" he asked her simply as he lit a smoke for both of
them. "Was it just because I had neglected you or have you fallen
in love with him?"
"No, he--he forced me," she said.
"How the hell could he have forced you," Greg said, a little
angry that she could have allowed something like that to happen ...
unless ...
"I don't want to tell you ..." she started to say.
"Now," he said. "Don't waste any time. How did he force
you?"
Still sorry that he had not told her about what he had been
doing with the company money, she began to relate the story. Greg
sat with disbelief in the dark as she continued. "... and so
that's how. I couldn't take a chance. I didn't know if he was
lying about what you were doing or not."
"He wasn't lying," he said with a defeated tone in his voice.
"Everything he said was true." But that was what she didn't want
to hear. Why had he become a thief? Why? Now what could they do?
He was so bright, the head of his class at the small Midwestern
college where they had met. He was always voted the most likely to
succeed. What had gone wrong?
"I don't understand how Martin could have found out," he
continued. "If he could, then anyone else can if they have the
right connections."
"Why, Greg? Why did you do it to begin with?" she said. She
was looking for a bridge back to their marriage. If he would tell
her perhaps she would begin to understand this man. Perhaps, they
still had a chance.
"Mismanagement, I guess," he said. "I could manage my job
alright, but for some reason, I couldn't seem to balance our
personal budget. There were always too many things we wanted. Too
many nights out, too much money spent entertaining prospective
contacts, in the higher offices. Maybe I could have done it with a
bigger expense account, but there was no other way. I wouldn't be
where I am today if I hadn't started taking a little."
"Oh Greg, darling." Janet sobbed gently next to him. "If only
I had known."
"It wasn't much at first and it was too easy. There is no
problem at all padding loan repayments and adjusting the company
books. No one else could have done it without being the manager.
In fact, even so, they might not have. I did do a good job, or so
I thought. I just don't understand how Martin could have found
out."
"He's been with the company a long time," she said. "It
probably wasn't hard for him. He's certainly not a stupid man."
"He's a lot smarter than I ever thought," he said.
Janet said nothing more as her husband turned on his side to
sleep. What Martin might do was foremost in her mind. She
adjusted the covers and settled down for a sleepless night. Tears
filled her eyes in silent prayer. She could see no solution and
obviously Greg couldn't either. He hadn't even tried to see a way
out. The shock must have been too much for him, she thought. He
could only wonder how Martin had discovered him. His pride in
being caught had been more injured than anything else. He didn't
even seem to care about what Martin had done to her.
She closed her eyes and drifted into the half-sleep she would
endure for many nights to come.
Chapter 6
Darleen pulled a beige leather glove onto her left hand. It
was two thirty, Wednesday afternoon, five days after her husband
had seduced Janet Richards. Her mind had been involved in nothing
for the last few days, except to originate plans for the younger
couple who were under Martin's power. She had only to wait for
word from him as to when Greg Richards returned home from his trip
and she could initiate her first step. She picked up the car keys
and turned towards the door but the brash ringing of the telephone
stopped her.
"Hello, Baby" she heard Martin's ringing voice at the other
end. He rarely called her at home unless it was extremely
important. Maybe for once it wouldn't be she almost hoped. Maybe
he would just ask her to meet him for a drink after work.
"I'm on my way to do some shopping," she said. "Is anything
wrong."
"To the contrary. I thought you might be interested to know
that Greg is at the office today. He came home last night."
"Wonderful," she said. "Did he give you any indication that
he might know what happened?"
"None that I could see. I don't think that Janet was foolish
enough to tell him. We'll have to find a way to do that ourselves.
I'm going to ask them to come to the beach with us for the weekend
and with the proper preparations there'll be nothing to worry
about. Both of them will find that they can enjoy our company much
more than they had ever imagined."
"Good," she said, "When do we leave, darling?"
"Sometime Friday. I think I can talk Greg into leaving the
office early."
"There's something I want to ask you, Martin," she said,
hoping that he would agree to her proposition. "You said the other
night that we could take them to Peter's Club for a party, and
watch Monroe giving it to Janet. You practically promised."
Martin laughed into the telephone. "Sometimes I think you
must be some kind of pervert," he stopped for a moment, still not
able to control his laughter. "You go right ahead and do whatever
you wish. See Peter this afternoon and make some arrangement for
next week. We can't take them there until we've broken them in
good ourselves. You understand that they must be perfectly primed.
I want Greg in my palm as much as I have Janet or he might blow the
works."
"Oh, thank you, Darling," she cooed over the line. "You're so
sweet to me. Sometimes I think you're a little too lenient."
"Well," he said, "Don't worry about that now. I'm leaving the
office to see Janet. I want to impress upon her the importance of
the weekend trip and then I'll see you about six thirty."
Darleen hardly heard the click in her ear as Martin hung up.
She was preoccupied with the new events at hand. Now she would be
sure to get her revenge on Janet for attracting her husband, and at
the same time, be able to take Greg for a ride. There was no
thought of shopping in her mind as she left the house. She was
going to see Peter Grant immediately and assure herself that
everything would be arranged when they brought the Richards to meet
Peter and his wife, Deborah.
* * *
Grant's Tomb was almost obscured from any passers by. The
single black door was decorated with a small gold plaque, the
club's name engraved in black Old English type on its face. No
other sign adorned the entrance. It could have been a private
apartment, set between the thriving businesses on Sunset Strip.
However, the unadorned entrance was no indication of the
club's reputation. Peter Grant had owned a number of night spots
in the Los Angeles area. Each time he closed out and moved to a
new location he brought his old customers with him, as well as
building a larger clientele from newer contacts.
The Tomb's reputation was Peter's. The army of followers that
had come with him through the last ten years were impressed not
only by his taste for elegance, but by his taste for the bizarre.
Most who came for an evening's entertainment got more than they
expected and were pleased. Few complained about the high prices.
A select minority of the customers, however, found more than simple
nightclub entertainment.
They, too, enjoyed the fine dinners and floor-shows. A few of
these even stayed to dance for a while. But if one were to look
about him in the later hours of the evening, they would see that a
few guests were escorted personally by the owner, or his hulking
bodyguard, Monroe, through a thick black curtained door and no one
ever came out from behind the curtain before two o'clock, the
regular closing hour.
An especially observant person might have thought that Peter
was running a gaming club through the large, locked door behind it.
But it would take a long stretch of the imagination to figure out
exactly what kind of gaming was taking place. But there was enough
partying going on in the main clubroom to deter anyone from
furthering his curiosity by trying to enter through the door. The
psychedelic lights and topless dancers kept most of the guests
quite happy.
Darleen was among the selected clique who were allowed
entrance to the door. She also had her own key to the club. She
and her husband had been friends of the Grants for almost three
years and in that time they had come to discover many mutual
interests. Enough mutual interests, cultivated during weekends at
the Kelly's beach house, to make them the closest of friends.
Darleen inserted her gold key into the lock and opened the
door. She closed it and stood for a moment, adjusting her eyes to
the semi-darkness. The bright afternoon sun had left her
temporarily blinded by the darkened interior. After she locked the
door she started toward Peter's office and after a moment she could
make out the forms who were working on the club's main floor more
clearly.
A pair of janitors swept, while two cleaning ladies were
scrubbing the rugs. All four were being supervised by an extremely
large ape-like man wearing a light blue turtleneck sweater. The
six foot five inch man was pointing toward a corner that he wanted
the janitors to be sure and not miss before they finished sweeping.
As he turned, he saw Darleen.
"Hello, Mrs. Kelly," he said in a deep, gruff voice. "What
brings you here at this time of day?"
"Nothing really important, Monroe," she said. The first time
Martin introduced her to the Grants, she had seen Monroe in the
background. Not once since then, had she not been impressed by the
giant that stood before her. At two hundred and fifty pounds he
looked every inch the powerful man that he was. But she was afraid
to try anything with him. Though physically perfect, he was
obviously a brute and looked as though he might almost kill a woman
if he became sexually aroused enough.
"Is Peter here? I thought I would stop to chat," she said,
looking at the heavy dark brow that protruded much too far over his
eyes. A perfect Neanderthal, she thought. His flat nose spread to
a dark thick mustache that topped his wide mouth and framed his
dark chin. His eyes were hard, but blank.
"Yeah, he's in his office. I don't think there's anyone else
there," he said, more intent on flexing his muscles under the long
sleeved wool turtleneck than waiting for a reply from Mrs. Kelly.
The former semi-pro football player turned his attention back to
the two janitors as Darleen walked to the office behind the stage.
Peter Grant heard the light knock at his open door and saw her
standing there. "Darleen! What a surprise. It's been weeks since
you've come here during the day," the little man said. "Business
or pleasure?"
Darleen flashed a genuine smile and received his warm friendly
kiss. They were both the same height, which somehow amused her,
but nothing else about Peter Grant amused her. He was a strong,
intent and an extremely shrewd businessman. There was nothing
amusing about his manner or ideas. He and Darleen had shared many
evenings in bed together, while his wife Deborah and Martin
frolicked somewhere else, or sometimes, even all four in the same
bed. Pleasure was his business.
"A little of both," she said. "But where's Deborah. I thought
she was usually here during the day."
"Upstairs fixing a few decorative details to one of the party
rooms. I'll call her and tell her you're here. Perhaps the three
of us ..."
"I really don't have time to play," she interrupted. "I still
have some shopping to do, but I would like to see her. It's been
weeks."
Peter smiled and switched the intercom on to call his wife.
Darleen thought a threesome in bed for the rest of the afternoon
would be most enjoyable. But there was not enough time this
particular afternoon. Though, she thought, if Martin is going to
see Janet, he might indulge. Perhaps ...
"She'll be down in a minute," he said. "Deborah was as
surprised as I that you came by. She asked if Martin were with
you. How is he?"
"As well as ever," she said. "He said to give his regards and
that he would see you next week. That's what I came by for,
reservations."
"Come on, Darleen. You know that you don't need a
reservation. What do you have on your evil little mind?"
"Caught in the act," she chuckled. "I never have been able to
fool you. I did come with a special request."
"What kind of request?" came a feminine voice from the door
and Deborah walked to her friend and kissed her cheek. Deborah
towered over both of them. At six feet tall she stood a full half
foot over her husband and Darleen. Her long silken white hair
accented the smooth rising of her breasts through the low cut
minidress that hung a full twelve inches above her knees. Darleen
always envied the taller woman's beauty and height, thinking that
it would give her a special power over men, but she wasn't jealous.
They were good friends.
After a few pleasant exchanges about each other's health and
looks, Deborah asked again, "What kind of request were you about to
make to my man?"
Darleen accepted a drink from Peter and said, "Do you remember
the couple that Martin and I told you about the last time we were
here together?"
"Richards, wasn't it," Peter said. "I remember Martin saying
that he hoped to get them here after a little special work."
"That's right," she continued. "And now, we are nearly ready.
Martin is asking them to come to the beach with us for the weekend.
Apparently the time is right. He has already had a taste of the
girl. He told me to tell you that, Peter. Says you'll really enjoy
her."
"Well, good," he said, "But why the request? Why not just
bring them in some night?"
"There is something special about them. The girl is young,
and especially naive. She has some kind of idea that she's better
than any of the rest of the world, and I want to teach the proud
little bitch a lesson she won't forget for awhile."
"Women are vengeful animals," he smiled knowingly. "What do
you have in mind?"
"Well, we always have a special initiation for new members and
I have a really good one for her," she said. "Your animal,
Monroe."
Peter whistled softly. "That's dangerous, you know. You
wouldn't believe the way that brute's hung, but that alone isn't
the crux. He could become violent. There are only certain types
of women that he can stand, and I doubt if your sweet little friend
would be one of them."
"But if he were under strict orders," she said. "He wouldn't
do anything to her. Nothing that would cause anything more than a
little pain and humiliation, and she needs that."
"I suppose that might work," he said. "But we'll have to be
careful."
"We might enjoy watching," Deborah interjected.
"Precisely what I had in mind," Darleen said, smiling to her
friend and seeing the hulking Monroe standing in the open door
behind her.
"Come in," Peter said. "We were just talking about you. Mrs.
Kelly, here, likes you. She has an idea that should please you a
great deal."
The huge bodyguard stood for a moment, digesting the simple
sentences he had just heard. He always made a point of listening
precisely to what Peter told him. He owed everything to him and
felt that no request was too much to do for his employer.
The smaller man had attained sainthood as far as the ex-
ballplayer was concerned. Monroe had been seriously hurt in a game
six years before and the brain injuries he had incurred had made it
impossible for him to ever play again. If Peter Grant had not
taken care of him, Monroe would be living on skid row like any
other broken down athlete who hadn't planned for the future.
Peter had paid all the bills because his success, as the
success of many men, had earned him an assortment of enemies, some
of whom would not hesitate to resort to violence to stop him. A
bodyguard was a good idea and Grant took advantage of the injured
ballplayer, enlisting his services as a temporary bodyguard, but
his supposed generosity had won him a worshiper for life.
"Good, Boss, if you say so," Monroe said, looking quizzically
at Peter. It was very seldom that he was allowed any real
pleasure. He spent most of his waking hours ensuring that his boss
was comfortable and safe.
"Of course, I say so, Monroe. Just do as Mrs. Kelly directs."
Monroe nodded and she spoke. "My husband and I are bringing a
girl here Wednesday night. We are going to take her upstairs. You
know what happens there don't you."
He answered her. There was little that he didn't know as far
as the upstairs was concerned. He was an assistant host as well as
body guard.
"Good. The girl and her husband have never been initiated
into the club and as this is their first time, we thought you might
like to take part in the ceremony," she said. Darleen always
talked to Monroe as if he were a child because it always gave her a
feeling of superiority. He understood everything that she said,
and though she didn't realize it would not have been so lenient
with her condescending tone of voice if she had not been a friend
of Peter's.
She continued adding spice to her words. "You can have the
girl in bed. She's young and very, very beautiful, but too
innocent. You could teach her so many things."
"And we'll all be watching to make certain you do it right,"
Peter smiled. Monroe, too, was smiling at the prospect, but he
wasn't sure if he should be used like that, to have people watch
him. Most of the parties upstairs had involved people watching
other people in bed, but he had never been a part of it, except for
a few fleeting glances at the bedroom acrobats. Peter's reassuring
voice, though, told him it would be all right. Monroe knew that
his boss had done the same thing more than once, so he felt,
perhaps it would be a privilege.
"Settled, then," Peter said. "As long as Monroe agrees, there
can be no harm. I'll walk you to the door, Darleen, Deborah, you
go ahead and finish upstairs. We'll have a big crowd tonight,
though not as big as the one we should plan for next Wednesday," he
grinned. "Monroe will help you get everything arranged."
Chapter 7
Janet hesitantly opened the front door to her house and her
heart jumped to her throat. Martin was standing outside. He had
raised his hand to knock again and she stared at the upraised fist
in a sudden terror. "Hey, don't be frightened," he said jokingly.
"You scared me as much as I did you."
The girl drew in a deep breath and stepped aside. She knew it
would do no good to try to keep him out. Until Greg's embezzlement
was covered up she would have to remain his servant. It was the
first time she had heard from him in five days and had hoped that
he would have decided not to do anything. Perhaps he has changed
his mind, was all she could think of since that night, though, she
knew it was not true. That would just not be like Martin at all
and was just too much to pray for.
"Shall we start with coffee again," he said with a cocky grin,
his words a directive more than a question.
"I don't have the time, Martin. I have to pick Greg up at the
office," she lied, trying to stall him off as best she could.
"Now, Janet. I'm picking Greg up in two hours. Should we go
in the same car, or did you want to split him?" he laughed. He had
told her husband that he would drive him home in order to make sure
that he would be safe and alone with Janet.
"Alright," she said walking dejectedly to the kitchen to heat
the coffee. He followed her down the hallway silently and she
wished he would speak. What can he want? she thought. The only
good that had come from her night with Martin, was that now she and
her husband were fighting for something together. But they had no
weapons, and did not really know what they were fighting. Martin
had not made anything clear. It was up to him to set the
battleline. They would be on the defensive, until then, no matter
what.
And ... Janet knew, though she would not admit it to herself,
that she still had horrible mixed emotions about her night with
Martin. As she pulled a cup and saucer from the cupboard she could
not remove the image of Martin's demands on her body that had given
her so much pleasure not many nights before.
"I'm not drinking alone," he said, interrupting her thoughts.
Without protesting she drew another mug from the shelf and
turned to face him. He sat at the breakfast nook smoking an extra
long cigarette, watching her through a smoke ring he had just
blown. He took his time to speak.
"Haven't you anything to say?" he asked. "You didn't think
that I would evaporate, did you? It's one trick I haven't learned
yet, but I'm working on it." Martin was pleased with what he said.
He considered himself something of a wit, but Janet considered him
something much less.
"Of course not," she said, trying to cover her emotions.
"But, I thought perhaps you had changed your mind. Really Martin,
if you would think about it ..."
"Oh I've been thinking about it," he said. "But I've only
been making plans, not destroying them." He looked behind her.
"The coffee is ready."
She turned to the counter and unplugged the pot, pouring them
both a cup. Don't let him put anything in it, she prayed to
herself silently. His nude body was still lurking in her mind,
urging her to do the things he had forced her to do before. She
could not deny that he had made her feel like Greg never could, but
she could not remove the guilt that inked her conscience.
"What kind of plans do you mean," she said hoping to discover
what he really wanted. If she had something definite to tell Greg,
then maybe they would have something to fight with. Her own
curiosity was aroused, also. A man with his imagination could come
up with anything. If it was only sex he was thinking of, then she
would be in for something more than their first encounter and Janet
wondered silently to herself if she had the strength of will to go
through all that shame and humiliation again.
"Plans for all of us," he said taking a sip of the hot black
drink. He didn't need to put anything into the cups. He wanted to
have her again this afternoon, but he knew by her nervous fidgeting
that he wouldn't need the potion this time.
"When I bring Greg home I'll tell him my plan also. By the
way, you haven't told him about the other night, have you?"
"No," she lied. "How could I?"
"Good. He doesn't need to know yet." His reply puzzled her.
"You won't have to tell him that I was here this afternoon either."
"Martin, I can't ..."
"Of course, you can. We have the time. Take your coat off
while I tell you what is going to happen."
Janet had forgotten that she still wore the light coat. She
was going for a drive when he had arrived. She took it off and
laid it on the chair.
"You, Greg, Darleen and I," he said. "will be taking a little
trip together this weekend."
She was again surprised. "I don't think I could stand it."
she said, her eyes opening in shock. "I just couldn't be together
with Darleen and Greg, knowing that we had done what we did ..."
"And will do again," he interrupted. "You look warm. Take
off your blouse."
Janet was shocked. She looked toward the open kitchen window
and back at him. He always succeeded in catching her off guard.
The thought of stripping in the kitchen confused her mind and when
Martin told her to close the window and draw the drapes, she obeyed
almost mechanically and stood silent. He glared at her and
continued to speak, while she started slowly to unbutton her
blouse.
"There's nothing to worry about," he said. "The four of us
will have a very cozy time in the beachhouse. Darleen has told you
about our retreat, hasn't she?" The girl nodded and fumbled with
the third button.
His eyes burned into her brain. His smile infuriated her.
She wanted to smash those perfect teeth and end her torment,
forever, but he continued to talk in his usual smooth way while she
moved as though a slave following her master's commands. "The four
of us will get to know one another very well before the weekend's
over." For a moment she didn't understand what he meant. Then it
hit her like a bolt. Greg would never stand for it! It was the
first time that she realized that Martin was talking about swapping
partners. She had heard of people doing much of the same thing,
especially in the counties north of San Francisco. But as far as
she could remember, she had never met anyone who had actually done
it. Her mind recoiled in horror at what he was suggesting but her
hands moved on and against her conscious will unfastened the fourth
and fifth buttons of her blouse.
The kitchen air felt cool in the cleavage between her young,
perfect breasts. She knew that Martin would take her again, that
he was going to do it to her right in her own kitchen, in broad
daylight. She and Greg had never made love during the day, except
on their honeymoon, but then the drapes were drawn in a large dark
hotel room. The prospect strangely excited her, but she held back,
her vow not to let him touch her again flickering through her
swirling brain.
He continued talking about the trip. "Darleen has plans for
Greg, too." Then he paused, seeing the anguished look on her face.
You don't think it can be done, do you?" he smiled. "Well, it just
may surprise you how easy it's going to be."
Janet forgot the cool air for a moment. She could not be part
of a conspiracy against her husband. If he were to be unfaithful
it would be her fault and she had done enough already. But Martin
anticipated her.
"And don't think for one minute little girl, that you are
going to tell him in advance. If you warn him, it would take the
fun out of it. Neither of you can get out of this now and you know
it. Greg would be in jail in one hour if I were to ever spill what
I know. So just relax and let's enjoy it." His grin broadened as
he saw the defeated look cross over the young wife's face as though
the end of the world were coming.
Thwarted, Janet dropped her hands to her sides. What could she
do? The cocky smiling man held all the trump cards and she would
just have to play along. Obviously, nothing else would work.
"I told you to take off your blouse," he said. She did as he
said, slowly, slightly embarrassed, but, in spite of her
helplessness, strangely aroused by the thought of him looking at
her naked breasts in broad daylight. He decided to change his
original plan, and only tease her this afternoon. It would make
her more pliable when they got together at the beach on Friday.
He stared at the round firmness of her naked breasts. The
cool air had extended her nipples, causing them to become erect.
Goose flesh covered her body. She mechanically dropped the blouse
to the freshly washed floor. The buttons clicked on the tile. Her
hands hung limply at her sides awaiting the next command. Martin
watched her, amused with his game. "Shoes," he said, and she bent
to remove them.
The weight of her breasts pressed toward the floor as she
stood on one foot, then the other. She spent a moment longer than
necessary arranging her shoes neatly on the floor. The weight of
her full breasts hanging loosely pulled at the muscles in her
chest, the muscles that kept her firm and young looking. She
shivered inwardly at the weird sensation of stripping her clothes
off in front of a man who wasn't even her husband.
Martin watched the fine white breasts as they swayed gently
beneath her moving body. He had an idea how it made her feel but
said nothing as she arranged her shoes. If she wanted to work
herself up, he would let her.
The tile was cold to the bottom of her warm feet. She could
feel her temperature rising.
"Well, what are you stalling for?" he asked, enjoying his
power to command her to the utmost.
She straightened up at his words and started to walk meekly
toward him.
"No," he said. "The skirt. Take off your skirt, and make it
good."
Her face flushed. She was being made into a common stripper,
giving him a thrill, she thought. Though the blind was drawn, the
room was still bright with the harsh light that kitchens always
seem to emanate. Slowly she put both hands behind her back to find
the zipper. Her shoulders were back as she started hesitantly to
unzip the skirt. She had to lean forward slightly to unfasten the
button and her breasts swayed sensuously with the motion of her
body. Her nipples were straight and erect. A red flush of sexual
excitement spread involuntarily across her chest.
The button came undone easily and she started to slide the
skirt over her hips. It came off easily and fell to the floor with
the blouse and shoes. She stood naked except for the silk panties.
Martin did not have to tell her to take them off. She did it
easily, turning her back to him, exposing the lush full moons of
her soft, white buttocks, which gleamed marble-like in the shaded
light.
Martin had an erection and his blood filled penis pressed hard
against his pants as she dropped the flimsy, nylon panties onto the
pile. "Show me that you are enjoying yourself," he said and for a
moment she thought to walk toward him, but knew that he did not
want that. He wanted to further humiliate her and she knew there
was nothing at all she could do about it. And now ... standing
completely naked and exposed in front of him in her own kitchen she
was not certain there was anything she wanted to do about it. Not
certain the small subtle flames licking at her body would allow her
to do anything but bend to his will. The dampness now growing
between her legs urged her to go to him. She could see that his
left hand was below the table top and she knew that he was softly
massaging his swollen penis. She wanted to do it for him but knew
also that he wanted something else, something more bizarre and
tantalizing from her before he took her.
She had read enough novels to guess her own next move. She
put her hands to her breasts and cupped the firm succulent flesh.
Her eyes were glued to his. She thought he wanted her to excite
him by touching herself until he was ready to take her. Her own
touch was becoming too much. The dampness between her legs had
increased. The soft pink lips of her vagina were filling with
desire and need.
"Sit on the table and play with yourself for me." he said, his
eyes glowing from the passion building in his mind.
Oh no! Her mind raced again in confusion. He wanted her to
finger herself!
Oh God, the same shame again!
She had masturbated guiltily a few times when Greg had been
neglecting her for so long, but to do it in front of another
person, in front of a man ... in the kitchen! Her mind rebelled at
the obscene thought, but her hand was no longer under her control
and slid compulsively from her breasts down across her belly to her
thighs as she slid her buttocks up on the edge of the table and
lifted her knees up to her breasts. The whole of her loins were
exposed to his seeking eyes. She was afraid. More afraid than when
he had taken her from behind. She could not pinpoint her fear but
it was there, cruel and unyielding. She only wanted natural sex,
or at least as close as she might come to it. But to masturbate in
front of this man was too much.
But, while her mind rebelled in futile protest, her fingers
plotted a course of their own through the soft blond silken hairs
above her vaginal opening. Martin watched her part the thin, pubic
hair between her legs and with a small mewling groan slip a finger
down the wet, pink slit and play with the swollen clitoris that
throbbed there with a seeming life of its own. He had excited
himself, playing with his massive throbbing cock, but he forced
himself to stop. He would save it for tonight at home, and save
her for the weekend. He wanted her worked up to the boiling point
before he threw it to her before the unbelieving eyes of her own
husband in a few short days.
The girl sat back on the table, unaware now of the man in her
kitchen. Her fingers slid from her clitoris to the smooth, wet
opening of her cunt that throbbed and contracted down between her
open legs as though it were a hungry animal craving to be fed.
Her head rolled salaciously back and forth on her shoulders,
her long blonde hair swinging around her neck and breasts as though
she were being lashed by an invisible tormentor standing over her.
While down between her widely spread thighs, her probing fingers
stroked rapaciously at the soft pink flesh and then suddenly with a
wet, slippery noise pushed themselves deep up inside the hair-lined
lips of her cunt.
"Ooooooohhhhhh," she moaned aloud, her mouth dropping open at
the first sensuous touch. Her twisting body stilled for a moment,
absorbing like sweet nectar the pleasure rippling through her. And
then, with a deep throated groan that seem to come from the very
depths of her primeval being, she began to move the fingers in
small, erotic circles, teasing cruelly at the smooth, fleshy walls
of her inner vagina. It was good, soooo good ... but not good
enough! She needed a man!
"Martin, Martin ... please ..." she moaned piteously in her
agony, her eyes tightly closed to block out the sight of the
triumphant grin she knew he would be bearing.
But, there was not a sound and she opened them slightly,
praying to see him standing before her, naked, his erected cock
jutting out from his body and ready to fill her with its massive
flesh.
But, Oh God, NO!
He was gone!
Her eyes raced desperately around the shaded room, hoping
against hope that it was all a lie, that he was still there ... But
it was to no avail.
He was gone.
She groaned in helpless agony and let her hand slip wetly from
between her legs. There was no use in going on. The thought of
having Martin take her had made doing it to herself useless. She
would never be able to satisfy herself now, and could only pray
that perhaps Greg would throw her to the floor when he came home
and quench the fire raging in her belly. There was no other way,
no other way!
Helplessly, she slid from the table to the floor and with
effort picked up her fallen clothes. Tiny tears streamed down her
cheeks.
God! Oh, God, what was going to become of her! She knew that
this afternoon she had had no choice but follow Martin's commands
and strip her clothes from her body as he told her, but to suddenly
begin enjoying it and then begging for it was another thing.
Perhaps she was just the whore that Greg had shouted she was when
he found out about her night with Martin. Perhaps that was all she
was, just a hot, fucking little whore who was ready to drop her
pants at any prick that came along. She dropped to the floor
crying in great gasping sobs and trying to blot the horrible
thoughts she was thinking from her mind but it was a long hour
later that she managed to lift herself to her feet and stagger down
the hallway to the bathroom to prepare herself for Greg's
homecoming. The dark shadow of what was to come the following
weekend hung heavy over her like a black cloak of doom, but she
knew there was nothing that could be done to stop it ... nothing at
all.
Chapter 8
Janet was preparing the salad when she heard Martin's car,
with her husband and Martin inside, pull into the driveway. She
put the bowl on the counter and walked toward the door to be ready
to meet him when he entered; she hoped Martin wouldn't insist on
coming in the house. She didn't want to see him. Though she knew
she would have to face him on Friday, perhaps she would not have to
go through looking at him just now after the humiliation he had
subjected her to earlier in the afternoon.
Just as she came to the swinging door between the kitchen and
living room, she saw a note scribbled on the blackboard she used as
a reminder with her shopping; she didn't have to guess that the
handwriting belonged to Martin. The note was short and not so
sweet. There was a single sentence, instructing her to make sure
Greg would accept the weekend invitation and she knew she had no
choice. In a moment her husband would be in the house and she
would have to conspire against him.
Janet quickly erased the board and decided to wait for him in
the kitchen, pretending to be busy preparing beef stroganoff,
though all she had left to finish was putting a fire under the
meal. Unaware, she thought, I must be unaware that Martin has
invited us to the beach. Martin would be surprised at Greg's
acting if he realized that Greg knew about their affair the other
night. It would make him angry and there was no telling what he
might do.
She tried to turn her mind to more pleasant thoughts as her
husband entered the kitchen alone; she found herself breathing a
small sigh of relief.
"Martin's got something up his sleeve," he said, without even
greeting her, and she could see that he was extremely angry. It
must have been horrible for Greg, she thought, riding all the way
home with Martin, knowing the man had totally debauched his wife.
Greg was not a violent man, but a situation like that could have
made most men commit murder.
"He's invited us to the beach for the weekend," he continued.
She said nothing for a minute, waiting to hear his reaction. "What
the hell does he think he's doing?" he almost yelled, slamming his
fist on the counter. She watched him look around the kitchen
uselessly looking for something else to hit to relieve the pressure
building in his brain.
"I don't know, darling," she said, walking toward him. "Let's
have a drink. It'll settle you down for a while and we can try to
determine what he wants. Who knows, maybe he has even changed his
mind and isn't going to do anything," she said, wondering how Greg
would feel if he knew that Darleen was going to make a play for
him.
She followed him into the living room and stood beside him as
he fixed them a highball. He talked about his dislike for Martin
and she listened dutifully, knowing that there was no way on earth
for them to get out of what was going to follow in a day and a
half. They had to go through with it and that was all there was to
it.
Though Greg's job seemed no longer important to him, Janet
didn't want to wait for a man who might spend ten years in prison,
therefore, she wanted to please Martin at all costs. But Greg's
focus was upon their marriage and their lives together, lives that
were in jeopardy. If Martin could keep them under his power they
would be no longer free. If he had to live under the yoke of fear,
allowing his wife to sleep with another man, then his life was not
worth living. He had not considered that Darleen was also a
conspirator in the plot.
"Perhaps we should go with them to find out what he wants,"
she suggested when she found Greg had not completely agreed to go.
He had told Martin that he would see if Janet had made any other
plans for the weekend, but Martin was not worried, not after his
afternoon visit to her kitchen.
"There is nothing we can do without knowing what he really has
planned," she said. "I don't think it can do any harm. At least,
not if the two of us are there." She almost believed her own words
as she spoke. Martin was obviously a professional at blackmailing
women into his bed, and apparently, to Janet, so was Darleen. She
was at his mercy and could not tell her husband that she too had
joined the conspirators.
His high Midwestern morals had not kept him from stealing, but
they had kept him from other women. Sex was sacred to Greg.
Though they had been married for several years now, he failed to
recognize that it was not just something they happened to share
with each other. The idea had never occurred to him that other
women could give him much more pleasure than his wife. Nor had it
occurred to him that he could give her much more pleasure than he
did. As far as he knew, there was only one way to do it properly,
and that was the way he always did.
Janet, however, had discovered new innovations through Martin,
making her more susceptible to the idea that they could go to the
beach house. She did not believe that Greg would be seduced by
Darleen. But the exhilarating thought of being made love to by
Martin, even though she knew it was wrong, drew her to the
subconscious conclusion that they must go. Consciously she could
not accept what she had done. But subconsciously she needed to be
used like Martin used her, demeaning her in her own eyes, using her
as a means to an end, not as a feeling, sensitive human being.
"I don't know if it'll be safe for you, honey. I know they'll
try something," Greg said hesitantly.
"We have to take the chance though, darling," she said. "If
we don't do at least that much, he could decide that he should turn
you in. No one would believe that he had done to me what he had,
and after all, it isn't a crime. He didn't rape me. And even if I
testified that he did, it wouldn't hold up in court. If he
disclosed to the police and the company that you've been
embezzling, no one would believe anything I said. So we just must
go."
"You're right," he said, looking at the reddening eyes of his
wife. He could not tell that she was acting, that her tears were
not real. She often cried when a crisis came. There was no reason
to think that she was faking. "I'll call Martin now," Greg finally
said after pondering for a moment longer. "He said we would leave
around noon on Friday, and I'm sure he'll be very happy to hear
we're going."
* * *
Janet didn't want to talk as she reclined back in the back
seat of the white convertible. It was twelve thirty on Friday
afternoon and they had been driving for fifteen minutes. She
leaned her head back and worriedly watched the speedometer creep
past ninety as they headed south on the Santa Ana Freeway.
Greg and Martin chatted in the front seat, while Darleen sat
on her left, telling her about the nightclub, Grant's Tomb. Janet
barely heard her. The last time she had been in a nightclub she
had ended the night in bed with another man. I could never talk to
Darleen if I knew she had been to bed with my husband, she thought.
How can she do it so casually, as though nothing had happened.
Janet was still seeing the flashing strobe lights that had
beat on her brain a little over a week before and her thoughts
roamed aimlessly. She watched her husband nod now and then while
Martin talked about the beach and the tan they could get with only
one weekend. She thought they would probably not see much sun if
the Kellys had their way.
"... sailboat is in perfect condition," Martin said. "We
should have good weather all weekend. Have you ever sailed," he
asked Greg over the boom-thump of a folk rock song on the radio.
He shook his head.
"Not much sailing water in the Midwest," he said.
"Then you'll have to learn. You happen to be lucky enough to
have one of the best teachers on the coast," he bragged. "What
about you, Janet," he asked, turning his head to look at her.
"Fine," she said, wishing he would keep his eyes straight
ahead. The traffic was too heavy to be looking around and not
paying attention to the road. Finally, to take her mind from
Martin's driving, she turned to Darleen and tried to concentrate on
what she was saying.
They all continued to talk. Greg was more relaxed with Martin
now, and Janet forced herself to speak with Darleen in order to
keep Martin from turning around again. She would rather spend the
day in bed with him than die with him.
She nervously watched the water as they came out onto route
one. The dunes were high and there was no danger of going over a
cliff, at least not yet. Martin had slowed to seventy miles an
hour, which was still too fast for the road. The sand glared at
her through her sunglasses. She must buy some of those brown-
lensed ones, she thought. They keep out the glare.
"Here we are," Darleen announced. "It's the brown house out
there," pointing toward a large beachhouse on stilts, separated
from the other summer homes by fifty yards of sand. "We bought all
the land around the place, keeping our neighbors at more than arm's
length. It gives us a lot of privacy, even though there are so
many other people living nearby. Most of them are old and nearly
ready to retire. We don't have much in common with them."
Martin slowed the car to turn into the drive. He cursed to
several bearded surfers standing near the entranceway, their thumbs
out. "I don't know how the hell they expect to get a ride carrying
those boards with them," he said.
The two boys waved the "V" sign at them and smiled. They had
no need for white convertibles, except for transportation's sake.
No one in the car returned the greeting. Martin and Darleen didn't
care and the other couple were too worried about their own plight.
"Come on," Martin said after he stopped the car in the
driveway. "I'll show you two the boat."
"I had better unload the car," Greg replied.
"Okay. Darleen, you help him and I'll show Janet our little
Kon Tiki," he said, taking her hand forcefully and leading her down
the stone path to the boathouse sixty feet from the cabin.
Janet held back as much as she dared. She was afraid to go
anywhere alone with Martin, under the circumstances and kept
looking back at her husband, hoping he would come with them. But
he only watched her for a moment, then opened the trunk and began
lifting out suitcases and groceries. Oh, well, Martin wouldn't
dare do anything so soon, she thought. Not with her husband so
close by.
She stood behind him as he unlocked the padlock that fastened
the boathouse door. Another key opened the door on the lock, and
he opened it, stepping aside for her to enter first.
For a moment she forgot her fears. A beautiful, thirty-foot
sailboat lay in shallow water before her. The mast stood tall in
the boathouse, its top thrust through a hole in the roof. She
could see the canvas that would be folded back in order to let the
tall spire slide out of its prison whenever it was ready to sail.
Martin watched her as she scanned the sleek lines of the
sloop. "It sleeps four comfortably," he said. "We might even give
it a try while we're here. Darleen and I readied her for sailing
last weekend. It's an experience you won't forget as long as you
live."
Janet didn't hear anything he said. She was picturing herself
and Greg sailing away from Los Angeles, away from the entire
civilized world on the boat, escaping from every problem that
plagued them, particularly his embezzlement and her obscene affair
with Martin that was threatening to destroy her.
Putting his arm around her waist, he pulled her to him for a
second, "Come on, I'll show you the inside. You'll like the cabin.
Darleen decorated it."
She held his hand as she walked down the small gangway to the
shining mahogany deck. "Eighty thousand dollars," she heard him
say. "My wife's father was a reasonably wealthy man. He left her
enough money to keep me from working the rest of my life, but I
enjoy being active. It keeps me young."
Her hand rubbed the smooth finish on the dark rail and cupped
the shiny brass cover of one of the running lights. The boat
seemed alive to her, ready to take off and fly across the
mysterious sea. It rocked slightly as they walked across the deck
and she was scared for a moment. It was nearly dark in the
boathouse, the only light coming from a single window and a hole in
the roof, which beamed a shaft of light dimly onto the deck.
She marveled at the simplicity of the lines that rose to the
mast. Each had a job to do. She could easily imagine the sails
set, full and billowing with the wind pushing them to their maximum
as they pulled the boat through the ocean. She could feel the salt
spray splashing at her sunburned skin as she tugged at the helm,
trying to keep on course.
Then her dream broke as Martin lifted the cover that secured
the hatch and opened the entrance to the ladderway. She didn't
want to go below with him, but her love at first sight for the boat
led her on. She wanted to see more and she strangely felt almost
at home here in its grand simplicity.
The ladderwell was dark and the light from outside cast eerie
shadows on the bulkhead as she descended. She was careful not to
lose her footing and be embarrassed before the eyes of the
beautiful boat, which she felt was her friend. Carefully she
reached the bottom and stood still in the darkness.
"Wait here," Martin said and walked across the cabin, his head
slightly bent, to turn on the light. "The other switch is
temporarily out. It could get hairy at night trying to find this
switch. A heavy sea could wreck an inexperienced sailor just
trying to walk across the cabin in the dark."
He continued talking, showing her the particulars of the
living accommodations, but she did not hear him. Her eyes searched
every corner of the cabin, devouring all of it. Though Darleen had
designed the insides, it was entirely a masculine ship. Janet
thought that this boat could never be called a she, it was all man;
all strong, powerful man.
The woodwork seemed heavy in its darkness. The brass shined as
only a man could have polished it. The boat had been given loving
care by the Kellys and she found herself wondering how two people
who loved a thing so much could be so cruel to other people.
A moment later, the answer became obvious to her.
She tried to stop thinking, when she watched Martin draw one
of the bunks from the wall. It unfolded into a five by six foot
double bed, complete with sheets and pillows. Oh, no, she thought,
her mind recoiling as she watched him work. Not here, not now,
with Greg and Darleen outside. He wouldn't dare!
Martin said nothing and made no move towards her as he
completed his task and stepped forward to the bow and closed the
door. Janet still did not move. She just could not let him take
her like this as though she were just someone he had picked up
moments before off the streets. She had to put him off some way
until the others came. Her heart was beating like a drum and she
breathed a short sigh of relief as he disappeared momentarily into
the small closet-like toilet. It would give her time to collect
her suddenly disorganized thoughts.
But then, after what seemed only an instant in time, she heard
the toilet flush and saw the door open, Martin stood before her
naked and then she knew there would be no escape. He was demanding
her body now even thought he must know Greg would come looking for
them in a few minutes.
Why? she thought desperately. Why does he want to do this.
"Martin," she suddenly pleaded with him. "We can't. Greg and
Darleen will be down here soon. What if they caught us?"
"Don't worry about him. Darleen will see to it that he
doesn't bother us." He grinned obscenely at her from his nakedness
in the dim light, his eyes cruel and unyielding.
Janet did not believe him, but felt powerless. She looked at
his naked body and his organ hanging limply down from loins. She
could see that it was starting to fill with blood, inflating itself
with desire. She wanted to run but knew better. He would only
make things worse for both she and Greg later on if she did not bow
to his demands now.
Turning, she started slowly up the ladderway. Martin watched
her, not moving, not saying a word. He knew what would happen.
She reached the top, and stood still for a moment, thinking of the
swelling penis that awaited her below. It wasn't right, but he had
the upper hand she tried to rationalize, but knew even as she
fought within herself, that she was lying to herself. She wanted
him and nothing could change that. She took another step up and
heard him laugh softly behind her as she mechanically pulled the
cover over the hatch.
Slowly she turned around after securing the hatch with a hook,
to keep intruders out. She descended the ladder back to the cabin
where Martin still stood where she had left him. He was smiling
arrogantly, his body silhouetted by the single light behind him.
She wished he would turn it off but knew that it would be left on.
It was one of his prices that he watch her succumbing to him, that
he actually see her repulsion turning slowly to lust as he played
upon her naked body. With instructions she began to unbutton her
blouse. He stared at her fingers awaiting the moment when her
breasts would fall free from their constricting cover and breath
hungrily at the fresh salt air.
She hung the blouse on a hook by her head and removed her
shorts and silk panties quickly at the same time. Then, hanging
them beside her blouse, she stood silently for his inspection,
knowing that he wanted to see her before he took her.
There would be no Greg to save her now and no way out. This
was the man who had taken her in the most horrible, unthinkable
ways and made her like it. He had humiliated her beyond all recall
by simply telling her what to do, and making her blindly follow his
instructions without protest. She had even stood before him in her
own kitchen, nude and masturbated herself into shame simply because
he had commanded her to do it. Now they were again alone, this
time deep in the belly of this beautiful boat, about to do it again
while her husband kept company with his wife not over a hundred
feet away. What had happened to her? She had no more pride left as
a human being and followed his commands like an obedient animal.
She felt like a helpless slave as she stood feeling the salt
air flow cool around her naked thighs. There was no excitement in
her. She was a machine until she turned her gaze to Martin and her
eyes dropped involuntarily to his loins.
His penis had filled with desire. He had been standing in the
same spot, his hands on his hips, watching her as she stood nude
and vulnerable before him. His imagination had taken him already
to the bed, thinking of the ways he would take her there. Now he
was hard. His massive prick jutted out from his body like a
harpoon poised to strike at a fleeing whale.
Her eyes were glued to the glistening head that rose and fell
with his pulse as he stood watching her. Her next task was simple.
She would walk to him, but ... not like she was. She could not let
him take her cold. It was bad enough to be a slave, but if she
were completely cold, she would be no better than a common
prostitute. If he were to take her, he would have to make her feel
it, he would have to make her want it. It was her condition, the
one rule she could make.
Martin did not have to be told to excite her. He wanted her
as hot as he could possibly get her. He wanted her to submit to
him and beg him to fuck her. It would increase the satisfaction no
end.
As he walked toward her, she took a few steps in his
direction. Without trying she could feel the tips of her nipples
rise in erection, imitating the hard flesh that jutted from his
body. A red flush spread across her cheeks and chest. Her breasts
bounced slightly with each step and the quiet rolls of the yacht.
She stopped, her feet spread wide, her hands placed defiantly on
her hips.
So she wants to be a leader, he thought. She thinks that she
can make me do as she wishes. Guess again young lady. He reached
out and pinched her right-nipple with his thumb and forefinger.
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped at the sudden unexpected
pain.
He laughed at her surprised look. She had not expected
anything so sudden, or quite so painful. Greg had never taken the
liberty to pinch her breasts. He had always caressed them gently
with his hands, but nothing further. She dropped her hands to her
sides as he let go of the sore nipple.
Her head fell back for a moment, then rolled forward just in
time to see the top of Martin's head as he bent and wetly touched
his lips to her nipple. No one had ever paid so tender attention
to her breasts. The memory of the pain of a moment before was gone
as he caressed the involuntarily hardening tip with his tongue.
He played for a moment with it, then suddenly sucked the whole
end of her breasts between his teeth, forcing the firm flesh to
give as he took as much as he could into his mouth, sucking at it
like a nursing baby.
Janet had heard of women climaxing from breast stimulation,
but had never been stimulated by it herself. Now she experienced
something new. She was not surprised, though. Martin seemed to
know every secret thing about her body, though he had only touched
her twice before. Every pore, every nerve was at his command. She
could feel her clitoris hardening to its own erection between her
legs, lubricated by the damp fluids that were slowly beginning to
seep from her vagina ...
It was so sweet, she thought, her head lolling back and forth
on her shoulders. Her eyes were closed as she imitated the rocking
of the boat as it rolled gently in the swells coming from the sea.
She anticipated the mooring of the rock hard penis into the soft
flesh of her vagina and the lewd thought started another flood of
cuntal liquids within her. The warm, tantalizing fluid found its
way from the thin hair-lined opening between her closed thighs and
trickled slowly onto the white flesh of her upper legs. She was
trembling with excitement.
Her repulsions as Martin, his mouth still locked tightly to
her breasts, knew were vanishing with each passing moment. The
luxury and strangeness of the boat, her nakedness, and even the
fact that her own husband might suddenly come bursting in and find
her being fucked half to death by another man, thrilled and
frightened her as she had never been frightened before. She felt a
thrilling desire to be completely debauched and ravished, her
fleeting guilt soaring away in the wind of passion that was
suddenly enveloping the whole of her now writhing body.
She made no protest as Martin, his tongue swirling around her
breast, slowly and deliberately pushed her back toward the sagging
mattress of the bunk. She was ready, roared through her mind.
God, was she ready and groaned in protest when she felt his lips
leave her momentarily as the backs of her knees touched the edge of
the bunk and she fell back limply on the waiting mattress. Her eyes
opened and she could see him standing above her, his wide-eyed gaze
locked to the juncture of her open thighs.
"Oh God, Martin, come to me! Please come to me," she murmured
between her tightly clenched teeth, her arms outstretched to
receive him.
And then he did, the flesh of his body covering her like a
warm protective blanket, his chest panting down and squashing her
hard, firm breasts down into her chest until she could hardly
breath. She quivered beneath him in a strange, glowing, sensual
delight as he whispered down into her ear.
"God, I'm going to fuck you this time like I never have
before."
"Oh God, Martin, Please do. Fuck me good this time, fuck me
good." she whimpered. "Do it quick before Greg comes."
He grunted and their mouths locked wetly together and she
squirmed and writhed her body hotly up against his nakedness. Her
hand slid hungrily down between their tightly locked bodies and
forced its way between them to grasp the throbbing head of his
hardened cock.
"Ooooh, baby, you are learning, you are learning," he groaned
into her open mouth as she stroked gently at his loins, curling her
slim fingers lasciviously down around the softness of his
testicles. He moaned spasmodically and his cock jerked up of its
own volition away from her grasping fingers.
She murmured and a gasp of protest died as his head dropped
and his mouth moved voraciously down over her neck and breasts,
bringing mixed gasps of pain and pleasure as he nipped at them
teasingly with the sharpness of his teeth. And then his probing
tongue moved on away and he slid down her body. His lips cut a
searing trail beneath her breasts and down to the slight
indentation of her navel, then swirled there momentarily, driving
her almost insane as he began a further descent.
"Do you want me to lick you there," he suddenly lifted his
lips from the smooth whiteness of her belly and teased.
"Oooooooh, yes, Martin, do it, for God's sakes do it!" she
whimpered down at his grinning face outlined cherub-like between
her uplifted thighs.
"Do what," he teased further, blowing the heat of his breath
tantalizing down between her open legs.
"Suck me," she hissed her words rolling out unashamedly. "Oh
God, stick your tongue in my cunt and fill me with it! Fill me
with it!"
And suddenly she had no longer to wait. He nuzzled her thighs
far apart with his shoulders and pressing his thumbs outward on the
soft, hair-lined lips of her cunt, slowly opened the smooth pink
slit until the tight, throbbing mouth was completely exposed to his
delighted gaze. She curled her legs around his neck and pressed
the soft inner flesh of her thighs tightly against his ears. Her
loins were a hot, raging whirlpool and her mouth opened, a long low
banshee scream rolling from between her lips. Like a moving snake,
his tongue had slithered wetly into her cunt, sending a sharp,
quivering spasm racing up her spine.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh," she chanted as he swirled it lasciviously
around and around in the warm, liquid depths, flicking teasingly at
the tight contracting walls of her burning pussy.
"Oh, oh, oh, ooooohhh," she murmured on and on, her head
flailing helpless from side to side on the swaying bunk.
He licked and sucked as though he were trying to devour the
whole of her open crotch, using lips and teeth and his wildly
thrusting tongue as though he were a starving animal. Wet, moist
sucking noises echoed through the small interior of the cabin
increasing Janet's excitement almost to the bursting point. She
wanted him inside her, wanted to feel that huge, throbbing prick of
his reaming her cunt inside out until there was nothing left of
either of them.
She tangled her hands desperately in his bobbing hair, her
eyes tightly closed in the ecstasy of the moment.
"Get between my legs, Martin," she breathed, her voice coming
in small mewling gasps, "Get up on top of me and put your cock in
my cunt. I want you to fuck me ... fuck me ..."
The obscenity and wild abandon of her own words was making her
blood run faster, causing her head to spin slightly. The effect
adding to the sudden illusion that the whole of her body was
nothing more than a great gaping cunt, a cunt that had to he fucked
and fucked until it slowly disappeared into nothingness. Nothing
else mattered in the world but this feeling of lewd, intense
longing. Nothing else at all, not her husband, not his wife, not
the money. Only this wonderful throbbing, swirling ball of white,
hot heat burning in her belly as his tongue sliced mercilessly down
there between her jerking thighs.
Martin crawled up her body, forcing her thighs even farther
apart. She was wet and wide open to the hardened cock protruding
now like a tree out from the forest of his pubic hair. Her cunt
was like a hot, scorching furnace waiting for the life-giving fuel
to be shoveled to it.
And then it came.
With one long hard thrust of his hips he shattered into her.
Long, strong, and superbly smooth. His huge, pulsating cock,
battered into her like the log it resembled, pushing the smooth
fleshy walls of her steaming cunt in rippling waves before its
surging power.
"Aaaaaaaaggghhh! Martin! Oooooooooh, Martin. You're a God!
You're a God," she whimpered and moaned out her pleasure beneath
him as she suddenly felt it grind to a halt at the farthest tip of
her cervix. His balls slapped heavily down against her upturned
anus causing her to jerk again at the unexpected sensation and
bringing one long, heart-rending scream of ecstasy from her open
mouth. And then, without stopping its movement, it began to move
around deep inside her belly, in and out, never pausing, always
digging, seeming to go farther and farther all the time as though
it were a great crawling monster squirming around inside her.
She grunted and kicked her legs out wide on either side of his
grinding hips, wriggling her buttocks lasciviously down and around
on the slippery coverlet of the squeaking bunk. She was one great
pool of wetness between her thighs and the walls of her cunt
clasped hungrily at the thrusting cock pummeling into her, the fire
she felt transmitting itself to her mind and blotting out all
thought of anything but the magnificent fucking she was getting at
the hands of this man whom she otherwise detested. She was vaguely
aware of his hands running over her, cupping her soft, squirming
buttocks, then probing and tearing at her upturned rectum as the
heat of his body swarmed over her, twisting and grinding deeper and
deeper into her lust inflamed pussy.
Somewhere in the distance, she was aware of footsteps on the
deck, but she paid no attention and neither did he. Nothing
mattered but this blinding, searing heat which locked them together
as though their cunt and cock connected bodies were one great
struggling monster fighting to free itself from some invisible
binding that lashed it to the wildly squeaking bunk. His cock was
filling her, filling her as though she were nothing more than a
soft, wet strip of living flesh surrounding it, captured and
imprisoned by its brute force from which there was no escape.
Her mouth hung open in wild, abandoned passion and she groaned
out pleading obscenities at him, urging him on to heap greater and
greater indignities on her naked, churning body.
"Fuck me, you bastard! Fuck me harder, deeper! Split my
cunt, split it with that great driving cock of yours! Oh God, yes,
fuck it, fuck it good! oh, oh, oh ..."
She grunted and groaned beneath him, the low, hot-pitched
wails of his breath permeating her ears as though they were the
warning blast of a fast moving freight. His cock was a huge,
merciless animal, racing madly around inside her, making her toes
curl and uncurl out in the air with each cruel, pile-driving
thrust.
It was not real, nothing was real!
It was one great all-consuming nightmare that blotted out all
but the heavenly bliss of this magnificent fucking of her
desperately straining body. She gasped and screamed, her words
becoming an endless stream of incoherent murmurs, on and on
endlessly ... endlessly ...
* * *
Janet's thoughts were no longer on her husband but he was
thinking of her. He had not followed her and Martin to the
boathouse initially because he wanted time to think before they
came to an outright confrontation and the excuse of unloading the
car would give him that time. But, with Darleen keeping him tied
up in conversation everytime he tried to get away he had precious
little time for that in the last thirty minutes. She had finally
excused herself and had gone to the bathroom and he had managed to
sneak out the door and clear his thoughts for a moment anyway as he
headed down toward the boathouse. He decided that perhaps now was
the time to have it out with Martin after what he had subjected
Janet to the other night. He would threaten outright to turn him
in to the police for blackmail. After all, what he had threatened
to do was legally extortion under the law. That might at least
scare him enough to keep off their backs. He just couldn't let
that bastard get at Janet again and force her to go to bed with
him. He knew she just couldn't go through that again.
Greg walked the remaining distance down the bright stone path
to the boathouse and entered by the unlocked door. He had expected
to see Janet and Martin standing on the deck talking but they were
nowhere in sight. He climbed the small gangway leading up the deck
and walked heavily over to the entrance hatch. He reached down and
tried it but it was locked.
Where in the hell have they gone; he grimaced to himself.
Damn it, Martin said they were coming here. Must have wandered off
somewhere else he muttered with a tinge of disgust. He had wanted
to get this thing over with and head back for town. He had made up
his mind that he and Janet weren't even going to spend the night
here. It would just be too much and he might let himself get out
of hand and punch that son-of-a-bitch Martin right in the teeth, if
he caught him so much as looking at his sweet young wife.
It was then, that he heard the first almost inaudible
whimpering sound.
"Ooooooooooohhhh," he heard echoing softly in the dim confines
of the boathouse, a continuous noise filtering through to his ears.
"What the hell?" he muttered half aloud to himself, equating
the sound to the contented purring of a pussy cat being stroked
into sleep. It was very close and he closed his eyes and opened
them again, straining to see into the darkness. There was nothing,
and he turned to leave, his leather soled loafers clattering hard
on the deck. Then, as he was ready to climb back down over the
side of the boat he heard the sound more distinctly. It was a soft
penetrating gasping of two almost synchronized voices, one male and
one female. He paused and kept absolutely still, his flesh
creeping on his arms.
He listened intently to the mewling sounds reflecting in the
darkness as though someone were in pain. He stood motionless,
wondering what he should do. And then heard a more distinct female
murmur followed by the male voice muttering obscenities back at
her.
It struck him like a bolt of lightening.
It was Martin and his wife!
Martin was fucking her down there and the lewd, horrible
noises of their coupling was filtering up through the air vent on
deck. My God, he thought crazily, they must really be going at it
not to have noticed my steps on the deck. His first reaction was
to run back to the hatch cover and tear it away with his bare
hands. He would kill that bastard for taking advantage of Janet
this way again but he held himself back. There were no screams or
sounds of struggle, maybe he wasn't doing it to her yet, maybe he
was just trying. He would have to find out first before he made a
fool of himself.
Slowly he reached down and pulled off his loafers and crawled
quietly on his stomach over to the opening of the air vent, where
he could hear the sounds coming out more distinctly.
They were close, probably just below in the cabin. He could
make out the vague sounds of rustling sheets and thought he could
hear the dim noise of flesh smacking against flesh below. The
gasps and whimpering moans rose up to meet him in the quietness of
the half darkness around him.
God, he was fucking her and she obviously was enjoying it!
He wanted to leap up and shout down at them to stop, for God's
sake, stop. Get off my wife! he wanted to scream out into the
otherwise silence at the body he could almost visualize pumping
wildly away between Janet's widespread legs.
But he didn't.
Instead, he lay there in a semi-state of shock listening while
another man mercilessly fucked his wife within a few cruel feet of
his trembling body. What could he do? God, what could he do now?
It was too late ... too late to do anything until he collected his
shattered thoughts ... and even then he wasn't certain there would
be anything left to do.
As he lay, the lewd, wet noises coming up from the ventilator
increased in intensity and suddenly eons later and without even
thinking about it he found himself becoming excited. It wasn't as
though it was his wife, the Janet he had loved and respected all
these years. It was as though it were someone else, someone
unreal, unseen, gasping and twisting out her passion beneath the
strange body thrusting his cock into her down there in the guts of
the boat. And then, he wished he could see them. Were they
completely naked as they fucked? Or had Martin simply pushed her
dress up over her hips and was screwing her through his open fly?
It didn't seem they had much time to do much else, but then, all
things were happening more quickly than they should the last few
days. He had been caught embezzling, his sweet, young wife had
been screwed until she almost couldn't walk by another man, and now
here she was again, her voice giving out little encouraging shrieks
of passion as that same man fucked her as though she were nothing
but a dirty little whore while her husband listened helplessly a
few feet away. But, my God, what a screw she sounds like she's
giving him. She's never, in all the times in bed with her, reacted
that way with me. Her gasps sounded so desperate and the low
ceaseless murmur so passionate that he could feel a slight rise
down at his loins. His prick jerked slightly, pushing heavily
against the tightness of his shorts. God, that's what I've needed
all this time, for her to just put out for me like that. He
visualized Janet with her arms and legs wrapped tightly around
Martin's naked body and his cock driving hard into the tight
elastic walls of her pussy and his heart and loins filled with
longing. He found he was hard and his hand moved down to his
arching cock to fondle it.
Now he heard his wife muttering obscenities, obscenities
broken and wracked with her passion, so that he thought he would
die from the humiliation of her helpless pleading.
"Oooh, Ooooh, fuck me, Martin, Oh God, fuck me harder ...
deeper ... deeeeper, Oh God, yes ... fuck my cunt ... fuck it ...
And Martin's haunting words in return as he threw taunt after
taunt at her. "Is it big enough for you, baby? Is it deep enough
in your belly?"
"Oooooh, yesssss ... God yes! It's huge ... all the way in me
..." she hissed between her desperate gasps of twisting effort.
"Bigger than Greg's?" he teased her on. "Does it fill you
better?"
"Oh yes, Oooooh yesss ... I've never been fucked like this ...
never never ... in all my life ..."
He listened with aching ears and clenched his eyes tightly
shut as though it would blot out the horrible words he was hearing,
and quench the involuntary passion that continued its evil rise in
his own body. God, how could it be that he could be lying here,
listening to his own wife debauched and used like a whore off the
streets and feel the lewd second-hand passion transmitting itself
to his own body.
It wasn't right! It just wasn't right!
But ... on and on it went and he found himself unable to stop
his hands at his fly and jerked his own arching cock out into the
open air. His consciousness seemed to fade away into an almost
impenetrable darkness as his fingers began a slow mechanical up and
down motion ... up and down ... up and down ... and his own
hardness grew and grew between his manipulating fingers. While
below the wet, slapping sounds of his wife's and Martin's bodies
pounding together filled his ears and swamped his mind with the
lewd pleasure and passion that came from them.
He could hear the bunk groaning and squeaking under their
straining bodies and could hardly distinguish his wife's gasping
breath from that of the laboring Martin thrusting his cock into her
hungry, clasping pussy.
Then, almost shocking him into reality again, he heard Janet's
pleading cries splitting the heavy rhythm of their breathing:
"I cumming, Martin! Ooooh God I'm cumming! Fuck faster! Fuck
faster ..." and then croon off into a weird, tiny whimper as she
choked and gasped her orgasm out into the heat of the cabin below.
Greg's body trembled all over, his throat parched and a wild,
uncontrollable aching throbbing through his still hardened cock.
He was still in a state of shock but even through the agony of
hearing another man bring his wife to a climax his mind was not his
own. He considered running to the house and finding Darleen. He
would fuck her until she couldn't move. God, how he would throw it
to her to atone for all the humiliation and indignity her husband
was now heaping upon his wife. But somehow, he couldn't tear
himself away from the obscene sounds still rising up from the small
circular opening of the vent by his ear.
He moaned inwardly to himself as he heard his wife sigh deeply
and then give an occasional small grunt of surprise or pain as
Martin ground his straining cock a little deeper than before.
And now, Martin's grunts were growing more desperate as he
began to spit his commands at Janet to excite himself more as his
own orgasm approached.
"Tighten your cunt! Damn it, squeeze it, squeeze it! Spread
em wider ... open 'em up ... open 'em you bitch ... gonna cum ...
gonna cum ..."
Greg listened to the crude obscenities being hurled at his
conquered wife with a flushed and haunted mixture of guilt and
desire. His passion was overwhelming and in his excitement he
found himself envious of the man who had built his wife to this
searing point of lust and had her spread wide beneath him now
waiting to take his hot, swirling semen deep in her own satiated
belly. His cock was hard and throbbed like a living thing in his
hands and he knew that it would not be long before it too erupted
into a pulsating geyser of white, hot sperm.
He listened with bated breath to the pounding fury of Martin's
body slapping down on his satisfied wife and pictured him forcing
her legs all the way back over her head to get deeper and deeper
into her. Her responding squeals rolled from her mouth as though
she had gone insane and he felt as though he would not be able to
bear it when Martin finally jetted his waiting load inside her. It
would be too much torture for his own strangely mixed emotions that
whirled dis-connectedly through his mind.
But, when it finally came, and he heard the animal-like groan
erupting from Martin's panting mouth, he could do nothing but lay
as he was and bear the pain and humiliation as best he could.
Groan after groan after groan spewed from the invisible lips
in wave after wave of ringing orgasm until it seemed to Greg that
the man must be nothing but a giant reservoir of sperm that pumped
endlessly from his cock into the waiting belly of his groaning
wife.
And then it was finally over, after several long passion-
drained gasps. There was silence except for the heavy sounds of
after breathing and a few last fleeting mewls of pleasure from
Janet.
They were quiet for quite awhile and Greg could hear nothing
but a few low, indistinct murmurs coming up from the opening of the
vent. His own cock jerked slightly in his hands as he thought of
Martin's long hard penis deflating slowly inside his wife's semen
flooded vagina and he gave it a slight squeeze and forced it back
in his pants. He was afraid they might come out soon and he did
not want to be here to face them and give Martin the added triumph
of knowing he had heard the entire thing.
His prick stayed hard in his pants. He had never heard anyone
make love before and the obscene sound of his own wife getting
fucked by another man had strangely excited him. Greg was no
longer wronged husband, but an excited listener. His mid-western
morals wanted him to run now from the boathouse but his impassioned
body rejected the idea, too taken up by the thought they might do
more, to move from the spot.
He did not hear the soft footsteps that tiptoed up behind him
and the triumph that flickered through the woman's eyes as she
gazed down at his head pressed tight against the ventilator
opening. Darlene knew that she too would have to play the part of
the wronged woman to be able to carry this out to it final result
and not spoil the ultimate plan she and Martin had so carefully
devised for this young, naive couple.
"W-What are they doing down there?" she whispered softly in
the half darkness, so as not to startle the unsuspecting Greg and
cause him to cry out.
He turned his head quickly, his face flushing from the sudden
embarrassment of being caught like a peeping tom but regained his
composure quickly when suddenly it hit him that they were in this
thing together. After all, it was her husband down there balling
his wife.
"Shhhhh," he raised her fingers to his lips and whispered
secretly, a grim look shrouding his face. "I-It's Martin and my
wife. T-They're making love."
Greg's face flushed from the crude admission and he was
suddenly thankful that the light was dim and she could not see his
embarrassment.
"I don't believe you," Darleen whispered back indignantly, her
voice almost breaking from trying to hold back the laughter at the
utter naivete of his statement.
"Come here then," he moved aside slightly and motioned for her
to join him at the opening of the vent. Darleen carefully lowered
herself down beside him and pressed her ear next to his. She
listened for a moment and then turned to him.
"I don't hear anything." she said softly, a feigned doubt in
her words.
"Wait just a moment and you will," he assured, his voice
barely audible.
They lay silent for a moment longer and then Darleen felt
Greg's body tense next to her as a soft, low murmur broke from the
cabin below.
"Ooooooh Martin, your fingers feels good between my legs like
that." Her words were broken by the soft rustling of the sheets as
bodies twisted around on them. Then the feminine voice gave
another soft intake of breath and moaned, "Ohhh, darling, that
feels sooo good."
"I-I just don't believe it!" Darleen whispered, forcing a look
of strained indignation on her face. "T-They wouldn't dare."
"Shhhhh," Greg cautioned again, suddenly becoming aware of the
softness of Darleen's breast pressing tight into his arm. "They'll
hear us."
"Alright," she nodded her head in agreement. "Let's give them
plenty of rope to really hang themselves."
Greg turned his ear back to the vent in silent assent and
listened intently for the next move from below. It came a second
later.
The male voice crooned up through the darkness: "Get on the
floor on your knees. I want you to kneel in front of me and suck
me like you did the first night."
The answer was a gasp and exclamation of: "Oh yes, I want to
feel it in my mouth. I want to feel it come again so I can taste
it on my tongue."
The sound of weight lifting from the squawking bunk filtered
through to their eager ears and then the slight noise of movement
on the floor as Janet obviously positioned herself in front of
Darleen's standing husband. Greg could hear Darleen's breath
becoming heavy next to him and imagined a slight pressure from her
breast digging into his arm.
"She turned toward him, her lips wet from the circling of her
tongue and whispered softly; "Let's sneak around to the porthole
and watch them. Then we'll really know."
Darleen knew without a doubt that this would be the final
breaking point for Greg. She was already aware of the hardness
under his trousers and the way he had turned his body to hide it
when she had first spoken to him. Yes, this was going to be easy.
Easier than Martin seducing Janet and she going to thoroughly enjoy
it. Particularly when that proud little bitch's turn came to catch
she and Greg in bed together.
"Come on let's go," she rose silently and pulled him by the
arm when he hesitated. "We may as well get the full show."
Greg followed quietly behind her as they slipped silently off
the boat and tiptoed along the pier to the lighted porthole. There
was foreboding in his mind. It was one thing to hear someone
making love to your wife, but to actually see it being done was
another thing. But he had no further time for misgivings as
Darleen pulled his head over by hers to the small rounded glass.
A gasp came from his throat and his body tensed at the lewd
sight that greeted him. There before his very eyes was his pure,
young wife kneeling on the floor in front of the naked Martin. His
hands were tangled tight in her long silken hair, pulling her face
into his loins. Her thin lipstick rimmed lips were moist and she
was running them over the flesh of his passion-swollen cock. He
had never seen such a wild, abandoned look on her face before. It
looked as though she were almost insane, her eyes bulging wide and
locked straight ahead on the monstrous penis surging out from his
belly. And God, no wonder, he thought, secretly marveling at the
size of it. It was almost an inch longer than his own and much
thicker. A pang of rejection shot across his brain. He could never
grow that big and in spite of his wife's clean, innocent purity he
found himself suddenly understanding her violent passion at the
hands of this man. A jealous rage grew inside him and he wanted
again to smash his way into the cabin and destroy them both but his
eyes would not release their grip on the lewd spectacle going on
inside.
"God, she's going to eat him alive," Darleen chided him.
"Your sweet, young wife is going to suck my husband's cock."
She knew the words would only serve to increase his already
smoldering passion rather than drive him to anger. She had seen it
too many times before when she and Martin had arranged this little
introduction for others. She had seen the sudden first burst of
anger and indignation from many a husband and then watched it turn
slowly to a masochistic kind of passion that excited them beyond
all reason and thought. Greg was almost at that point. It would
only take a few minutes more.
And she was right. Greg watched, hypnotized into immobility
by the cruel exhibition going on a few feet in front of him. His
breath came in small, deliberate gasps as he watched his wife's
fingers teasing gently at Martin's testicles, at the same time
swirling her tongue lasciviously along the underside of his huge
hardened penis from the thick trunk-like base slowly out to the
menacing blood-filled head. He could see a slight drop of
glistening seminal fluid left over from their orgiastic climax of a
few moments ago that hung precariously on the tip. Janet leaned
her head back a few inches and stared trance-like at it for a
moment, then leaned forward and hungrily licked it away with the
tip of her tongue.
"God, she loves it. She really loves to suck cock doesn't
she?" Darleen half murmured, half questioned beside him. "I'll bet
she swallows it when he comes."
Greg felt a groan building in his chest from the lewdness of
her words. Somehow they seemed even more obscene than the act his
wife was performing on Darleen's husband in front of them. But, he
also knew they were true. Janet's actions and passion spoke for
themselves and there was no mistake about that.
"Look, darling, look! She's going to take it in her mouth."
Darleen's breathing had become heavy and excited next to him and
Greg felt his own passion building to an almost fever pitch as eyes
locked on his wife's ovaled lips as she swayed sensuously on her
haunches before the huge hardened penis in front of her face.
"Oh God, Noooo ..." he heard himself moan beneath his breath
as Martin suddenly thrust his loins forward and the warm moistness
of Janet's open, waiting mouth closed glove-like over the
sensitive, throbbing head of his cock.
And Greg groaned again as Martin tightened his grip in the
softness of her hair and began to fuck rhythmically in and out of
her open lips. He stared increduously through the porthole,
watching in almost total disbelief the pink inner flesh of her lips
being pulled grotesquely out, clinging to the flesh of Martin's
withdrawing prick and then disappearing back inside again with each
forward thrust. God, those were the lips he kissed, those were the
lips he loved and now he was standing here helplessly while another
man shoved his great throbbing prick in and out between them as
though they were nothing but a hungry lapping pussy. And again, in
spite of his puritanical revulsion, he felt his own penis jerking
hard beneath his pants as his wife warmed to the task before her.
He could see with obscene clarity Martin's huge, thick rod
disappearing and reappearing between her sucking fish-like lips her
long disheveled hair flowing down over her shoulders and swishing
back and forth on her hollowing back below. Her firm, white tits
danced and shook beneath her tensing throat as though they had
invisible strings attached to the hardened nipples and a puppet
master quivered them playfully from above.
The gaping couple outside watched, their excitement growing by
leaps and bounds as Janet slid more of Martin's huge, pulsating
cock into her mouth, sucking at it voraciously. Slowly she filled
her mouth with the giant flesh until she was nearly choking. They
could see that she was taking a moment to adjust. No woman had a
mouth large enough to accommodate a cock as big as that.
Greg felt Darleen's other hand cover his. He had been trying
to push his own heated organ away from his trousers where it
bulged. Her hand pulled his away and she replaced it with her own,
massaging the swollen membrane softly. "What are we waiting for?"
she breathed huskily, sensing that now was the time. "They're much
too busy to offer us the entertainment we could offer each other.
Besides, they deserve anything we do now."
Her hand massaging his cock made up his mind for him. Quietly
they slipped away from the porthole and stood up. He pulled her to
him and kissed her hard on the mouth. "Wait," she said. "Let's go
to the house." Without a word he followed her out of the boat
house and up the white stone path.
Inside the sloop's cabin Janet sucked at the massive prick in
her mouth. Still on her knees she licked at it with her tongue and
bobbed her head back and forth in the supposed motion of
intercourse. She felt no shame at sucking him. But she was hurt
that she had not been able to make him do this to her first.
Instead he had forced her to her knees and bade her to do as he
commanded.
She could not have resisted long, and didn't really care any
longer. She could taste the sweet fluids of his body as they
slowly seeped from him. The hands that held her head pulled her
upwards, she started to get up, but did not want to release her
lips from the cock in her mouth.
Finally the pressure was too much, and she had to let it slip
wetly away. Martin guided her to the unfolded bunk and pushed her
down on it. She sat on the edge and started to lean forward to
grasp the cock that she wanted to suck more and bring to orgasm
this time with the warmth of her lips.
"Wait a minute you little nympho." he said. "It's time for a
sixty nine," and he pushed her onto her back and crawled onto the
bed after her. He wasted no time in positioning himself upside
down over her, his head between her upraised knees, his twitching
red cock hovering inches over her mouth.
He dropped his head to the softness between her legs. His
fingers spreading the thin silken pubic hair and lips that were
still wet with the moisture of his earlier orgasm. He could feel
the warm, pungent smelling fluids that had dripped on her thighs
transfer their wetness to his cheek as he looked at the pink flesh
within the soft silken pubic hair surrounding her vulva.
He pursed his lips and caught the small, hardened berry of her
clitoris between them, nibbling gently at it, with his teeth.
"Ooooh," she moaned and opened her mouth. His cock twitched with
expectation. She lifted her head slightly and pulled a pillow
beneath it to make herself more comfortable. Her arms shaking as
the electric shocks that were finding their way from her clitoris
to every part of her body raced to her nerves. Greedily she wrapped
her lips elastic-like around the huge, pulsating penis and sucked
the whole of its head into the warm, moist cavern of her mouth
lubricating it with her own saliva.
She could feel his tongue toying with the swollen bud of her
clitoris, as his nose lightly probed down into the lips of her
yearning cunt. Another flow of lubricating liquids released
themselves from deep within her hot clasping vaginal walls and she
moaned out her ecstasy around the throbbing member encased tightly
in her mouth.
The fiery tip of his cock in her mouth, drawing along the
roof, excited her further. Without prompting she began to hum
again, as she had done a week before. "Mmmmmm," he gasped trying
to hold himself back as the vibrations from her throat jackhammered
at the thin wall that held his climax back.
He pulled his head from her and slid his cock out of her
mouth. He would fill her, but not there, not this time. "Are you
ready," he asked, the fire in his eyes demanded only one answer.
She started to say yes, but remembered what he had demanded before.
She must use the words, and the words had become sweet to her,
excited her, and she knew that by the very nature of their
crudeness they would drive him to frenzy too.
"Yes," she sighed. "Fuck me, Martin. Fuck me as hard as you
can." her voice rose with each word to almost a shout, culminating
in a last desperate gasp of: "Fuck me!" There was no other word
that brought so much from deep within her. It was almost as though
she were giving her soul to the devil when she shouted it. And ...
it almost was like that.
He turned and fell upon her, biting at the flesh of her
shoulder as he lifted his hips and positioned the massive prick
against the wet, hair-lined lips of her passion-inflamed cunt. He
raised her buttocks slightly to prepare for the first violent
thrust.
Then, he lunged forward on top of her, driving the weapon deep
up into her belly, filling her with every inch of his swollen
flesh. He reached around her thigh with his arm and pushed upwards
on his cock, holding it tightly against the upper flesh of her
smooth open channel and began to rock heavily back and forth,
driving the great pole deeper and deeper as he fucked into her with
ever increasing force.
The pressure rose in a heavenly crescendo of raw, naked lust
deep down in the constricting muscles of her belly, the boat
rocking storm bound under their violent fucking. His cock seemed
to be stabbing at her insides. She could see nothing, her eyes
closed, her head thrashing back and forth in wild abandon. There
was no other place on earth for her. This was as close to heaven
as she would ever come, the rest of the world was nothing ...
nothing and she never wanted to go back ... never ... never ...
Then as her mind raced in a great starry circle, the muscles of her
belly began to pull apart, like a giant rubber band. It was ready
to spring. She could feel the imaginary trigger release the tensed
rubber band deep inside her as her whole torso began to churn and
twist like a maniac beneath his pounding body.
"Oh, oh, ooohhh, I'm cumming," she screamed. "I'm
cummmiiinnnggg now!" and a great whirlwind of release picked her up
as she arched her back and rose to meet the waves of orgasm as they
slapped deep at her very being, sending her into a psychedelic
rapture, colors everywhere, smashing at her senses like huge waves
in a cataclysmic storm.
She could feel Martin rise up in his own climax.
"AAaarrgghhhhhh," he groaned, his face contorted in ecstatic pain
as the balloon of sperm in his balls burst and hurled floods of
white hot lava deep into her writhing belly. He kept thrusting his
great cock into her, cumming in spurts, each one like a long,
snaking whip beating a spastic rhythm on his quivering buttocks.
She could feel his pelvis slam into her one final time as he
emptied the last of his lewd, flowing semen into her for the second
time today. He fell on top of her in collapse. He knew that he
could do this ten times a day, and definitely planned on fucking
this hot little bitch again and again before this weekend was over.
They lay still for a few minutes, neither saying anything, but
only listening to their exhausted breathing and the light slap of
waves against the boat that they had set to rocking in its mooring.
Finally Martin got up.
"Here," he said, handing her the clothes that she had dropped
hurriedly to the chair. "I want to see something." Not suspecting
the slightest what was in store for her, Janet obediently dressed.
Martin had seen Greg and Darleen at the porthole because he had
know that the younger man would be there. Darleen had devised the
plan, knowing that she would be able to take Greg, if he could see
his wife with Martin.
The planning required that Martin now take Janet into the
house, where Darleen would be giving Greg the working over of his
life. Once the younger couple had both experienced the sight of
the other in an unfaithful embrace, there would be no more
obstacles for the two experienced swappers. They could then use
them in any perverted way they so desired.
Martin did not have to wait for Janet. She dressed quickly.
She wanted to get out of the boat house and back to the main cabin,
where she could safely be with Greg. She did not want him to know
what she had been doing. Her watch was in her purse. She did not
realize that they had been alone for almost forty five minutes.
She did not dream that Darleen might be making her move for Greg so
soon.
Nearly blinded by the bright afternoon sun, she stopped for a
moment outside the boathouse. Martin was patient. He knew what
was coming and savored each extra moment. Darleen would be sure to
hold the young man back until her husband could bring the
unsuspecting young girl into the house and see what was taking
place. He knew, she was a monster at that sort of thing.
"Don't be surprised at what we find up there," Martin said to
her as they came up the path. "I'll bet Greg and Darleen have been
going at it too."
She straightened her hair as best she could with her hands.
"Why, they were unloading the car," she said innocently. "Besides,
you know Greg better than that."
"For almost an hour. Don't be an idiot. And remember, he's
human too."
Janet decided that Greg could not be so weak as to submit to
another woman. He loved her and had proved it by trying to steal
for her, and by his understanding that she had not been unfaithful
by going to bed with Martin. It had been forced on her.
"Quiet," he said opening the back door. "We don't want to
disturb the lovers just in case you're wrong."
Janet was angry that he should even be insinuating such
things. She followed him silently into the house. There was no
sound in the kitchen or living room. She looked up the stairs
toward the balconied bedroom that hung overhead. The waves on the
beach rushed onto the sand with the surging power of the sea.
Their wet crashing impact was all that she could hear.
Suddenly her ears picked up the distinct humming sound that
she knew could be imitated in only one way, the way she had heard
herself as she had been trained to suck Martin.
Quietly the couple walked up the stairs, careful not to make
any noise. At the top Janet's eyes first came upon a large orange
and brown painting of a couple in copulation. Ugly, she thought
first, before seeing what was going on below the picture.
There, through the open door of a bedroom on a huge king-sized
bed, were Greg and Darleen, locked in the same obscene, but
exciting, sixty-nine position she and Martin had almost devoured
each other in, a few short minutes before. Darleen was upside down
astride Greg, her loins pressed tightly down over his face as he
licked and chewed hungrily at her wet, open pussy. Her head was
bent and she had wrapped her lips tightly around his cock. It was
hardened, she could see as Martin's wife bobbed her head up and
down in an age old sexual rhythm, to a size she had never thought
possible. Greg had never been so huge, so huge and excited as he
obviously was at that moment. This could not be her husband, she
thought in sudden confusion, and if Darleen had not momentarily
lifted her grinding loins to expose the glistening passion-crazed
face of Greg, his young trembling wife would never nave believed
it.
The huge bed was rocking and groaning with their movement as
they twisted and turned in wild abandoned rhythm, their bodies
appearing as some great headless four-legged monster thrashing
about in the last desperate throes of death.
Martin smiled triumphantly and handed the younger girl a
glass. She knew instinctively that he had probably filled it with
the same passion inciting liquid he had given her before, but right
now it didn't matter. Her breathing had stilled slightly and her
heart seemed to be beating high in her throat. Instead of being
repulsed and horrified by the lewd spectacle of her husband and
another woman locked in the unnatural embrace of oral love, she was
becoming strangely excited by it.
She lifted the glass to her lips and watched the couple
perform. Martin sat on the bed beside them and leaned over,
tapping Darleen on the shoulder, she released her grip on the young
man's cock and turned to look at her husband. He made the "V" for
victory sign and she smiled, then turned back to the twitching cock
of the young man below her. He continued to suck at her, inserting
his tongue deep into her yearning vagina, teasing the soft pink
flesh as he rotated it lasciviously back and forth.
"Hmmmmmmmmmm," she hummed on, starting to add a little beat to
it as she felt Martin's hand begin to slap her lightly on the
buttocks in a definite musical rhythm.
Janet listened, intent on the musical fluctuations of
Darleen's vibrating vocal chords. She saw Martin slipping off his
trousers after he drained the glass that he had been drinking. He
had not put his shirt back on after leaving the boathouse and was
quickly naked. She picked the glass off the bed and put it on the
table. The glass had become hot to her touch. She knew it wasn't
the liquid, because she was drinking the same thing herself. It
had to be her own sense of heightened touch. She had become
supersensitive to everything.
She watched as Martin began toying with the cleavage between
the soft rounded moons of Darleen's buttocks. No, Janet, thought,
the potion now having taken effect. That's mine. He is mine now.
She started to take off her blouse, and stood to remove her shorts.
Her eyes looked down at Greg as he turned his head, gasping to get
a little extra air. He looked at her, recognizing her, but giving
no sign. She was just another naked woman to him now, and she
would not let him get away with screwing Darleen, she would get
hers too. She jumped on Martin's back.
He started to buck her off, but stopped when he felt her
fingernails run down his backside and between his legs. She had
gone wild. Like a savage animal, she was completely taken into the
lustful battle that raged on the huge bed.
She was unaware of Darleen and her husband. She wanted to do
to this man what he had done to her. Martin knew it had finally
come. He had wanted her to take the initial step she was now
taking, but did not know how to force her. The potion and the
overheated sex that permeated the entire house had done the job for
her.
Her fingers groped at his backside and he rolled them both
away from the other couple onto a space of their own but out of the
corner of her eye she still watched her husband greedily suck at
the other woman. She could not take her eyes off of him, nor could
her ears shut out the wet, sucking sounds that he was making with
his voraciously moving mouth.
Her hands had radar of their own. She found the ring of
Martin's anus at the same time she felt his middle finger thrust
deep into her once violated behind. Expecting trouble, she was
surprised that his rectum was soft and susceptible to her probings,
opening easily as he relaxed it before her touch.
His middle finger squirmed around and around inside her rectum
and she followed suit, imitating his every move with her own hand
inside him. They were in perfect tune. There was not as much pain
as the first time he had violated her. Now she masochistically
wanted her husband to watch as another man fucked her in the ass.
There was no greater indignity and suddenly she wanted to subject
him to it. Her breathing was heavy, like a tigress in heat. She
did not know what she would be able to do for him, until ...
She felt something touch her shoulder and looked around,
taking her gaze off Greg and Darleen for a moment. Hazily she saw
that his hand held two long black objects, unmistakably men's
penises, but they were rubber, she thought hazedly as she took one.
There was no doubt what he wanted now.
The rubbery tip of the dildo that Martin held probed at her
backside. She tried to relax her anus though it clenched
automatically against the pain it knew would soon come. She
positioned the dildo in her own hand against the small puckered
opening of Darleen's husband's rectum, slipping it a half an inch
into him with almost no effort.
Her eyes bulged wide like a madwoman's. This was crazy. We
are going to fuck each other like men, she thought. What has
happened to us? What's happening to me?
There was no answer for the young girl as she squealed at the
sudden intrusion into her anus by the large black dildo that
penetrated a good four inches in one quick, forceful thrust.
"Aaarrrggghhhh," she screamed. "Too much ... It's too much."
The pain seared through her lower body. He had pushed it deep into
her without warning, but the sudden shock had caused her to do the
same to him.
The dildo she held firmly had nearly impaled him to its entire
six inch length. He writhed in ecstasy at the intrusion. She
tried as hard as she could to relax her sphincter. The effort was
tremendous, but as she neared success the pain took a new turn.
Its effect changed slowly to one of pleasure as she accepted the
hard rubber intruder into her rectum. She gyrated her hips slowly,
sensuously signaling her partner that it was all right now.
He did so, not concerned with her pleasure, but only with the
searing heat that burned more than half a foot into his backside.
He began to move himself back and forth, cueing the girl to do the
same as he felt the black weapon scorching the insides of his
rectum. Both used their hands to increase the pitch. Janet was no
longer concerned with her husband and Darlene who had finished
their escapade for the time being.
Greg was watching his wife, but made no sound, his mouth wide
in horror as he saw what she was doing.
Her hand was jerking back and forth furiously, pushing the
dildo as fast and as hard as she could. Martin was doing the same
to her. Their bodies seemed tangled as he rode over her, making no
effort to slacken the pace. The pitch, instead rose as they neared
their climax.
The hard phallus inside her surged back and forth. All power
in her body suddenly centered on her back side. Her soft flaccid
buttocks clenched and unclenched in rolling spasms as she felt an
avalanche of sensation suddenly shoot through her spinal chord like
a lightening bolt, striking at the base of her skull, only to be
followed by another.
"Arrggghhh," she shrieked, "I'm cummmmmiiinnnggg, Ooooohhh
God!"
Her body jerked forward and the dildo slid out of her opening
with a slight pop as she writhed on the sweat soaked sheets,
basking in the fiery light of her orgasm as she came again and
again. Her hand still forcing the rubber log deep into Martin's
pumping buttocks as he raised up, clenched the muscle of his
sphincter and held the dildo hard up inside him.
She wiggled it back and forth furiously. "Uggghhhnnnn," he
moaned trying to suppress it. "Aaarrggghhhh, I'm cummmiinngggg,"
he finally screamed and then jerked over onto his side, white hot
liquid spewing from his hardened cock out onto her thighs and
belly. For minutes there was no sound in the room.
Darlene was the first to speak. "That was fantastic," she
said, directing a caustic remark at the younger woman. "I've never
seen anything so professionally done from a novice. You learn
quickly Janet, my love."
The younger girl looked up and smiled. Her mind was fogged by
the drug and she still felt the remnants of her orgasm. Her eyes
passed over the shocked face of her husband. They both knew
exactly what Martin wanted and they both had accepted it. They
were trapped but too exhausted and excited to protest.
Martin got up and poured four more glasses from the pitcher.
"It's going to be a long weekend," he said with a victorious smile
on his lips. "Drink up and we'll have something to eat. After that
I'm sure we can find something to keep us occupied for a few more
hours."
Chapter 9
Wednesday morning Janet slept until eleven o'clock. She had
done the same since coming home Sunday night after a hazy weekend
that seemed like a dark nightmare of pleasure and yet horrible
degradation for her.
She and Greg had said nothing about their experience, but had
gone straight to bed. She could remember making love with Martin
and Greg, and somehow an experience with Darleen crept into her
mind. She was physically exhausted until she woke up Wednesday.
Most of the first two days had been spent sleeping. Greg had made
love to her the night before and surprised her with his new found
knowledge. They had found new pleasures over the weekend and were
eager to show them off to each other.
She pulled herself out of bed and reached for her robe that
lay on the floor. Greg had not bothered to pick it up when he had
left for work.
She was amazed at the change that had come over him. He had
been completely taken by their experience and all he could think
about was sex. Their life had changed in the last few days. His
interests were centered around nothing but the special party they
were scheduled to go to tonight. Darleen had told them about
Grant's Tomb in the car, but had not mentioned anything further to
her about it.
Martin, however, had discussed the matter with Greg. The two
men were eager to go, much more so than Janet. She sensed that
something was amiss with Darleen. The older woman had been too
obsequious and too friendly. Although Janet did discover she liked
Darleen a little more after the weekend. She had gotten to know
her much better and couldn't help it, even if she did feel guilty
about what had happened to her.
She had never known such pleasures, but still, it seemed wrong
to her. Greg, on the other hand, had seemed to enjoy himself so
much, though she dared not speak about it, thinking it would only
anger him. He could always say she started it. Besides, it was fun
and wouldn't last forever. They would grow tired of it. A few
weeks at most, she thought as she brushed her teeth.
Oh dear, she would have to hurry. Her appointment with the
hairdresser was only forty-five minutes away and she wanted to look
perfect for the night. Greg said they would meet some important
people at the party and it would be good for business as well as
fun.
* * *
"They should be here in a few minutes," Martin told Peter
Grant. "We told them to meet us at ten."
"I'm looking forward to it," the shorter man replied. "If
she's everything you say, we should have a real ball."
"Don't leave me out," Deborah interrupted. "Darleen told me
that Greg is a man to be reckoned with in bed."
"That's true," Martin said. "She said that he hardly knew a
thing when they first started. But by eight o'clock Sunday night I
was starting to get a little jealous. He really put it to her. He
seemed to be some sort of sleeping beauty. It just took the right
teacher to get him to wake up," he said, putting his arm around his
wife's shoulder and looking at her like a father whose daughter had
just won a scholarship.
"Where's Monroe," Darleen asked. "I wouldn't want him to miss
out on the fun for all the world."
"Don't worry," their host said, smiling. "He has been
thinking about it all day and is really ready. I only hope she
isn't too shocked by his looks. He's not what you'd call a
handsome man."
Monroe watched them laugh from a distance. He knew that they
were talking about him but didn't mind the laughter. If it pleased
Peter to laugh about him, then it was alright. After all, none of
them had ever done anything to hurt him.
He grinned and turned to the door as it opened. A beautiful
young woman, her blonde hair piled high in ringlets entered the
club, a young man about the same age right behind her. Monroe had
never seen them before and suspected they were the new couple.
"I'm Mr. Richards," the man said hesitantly as his gaze
wandered around the club. "We're supposed to meet the Kellys and
Mr. Grant here."
Monroe smiled. His wide mouth spread hideously across his
rough face. This was the girl they had told him about, he thought.
Mr. Grant is a god. Never before had he met a girl like her. And
now, thanks to his employer and friend, he would have her tonight.
"Please," he said. "This way." He led them toward the two
couples standing near the dark curtain. A few of the diners lifted
their heads to watch the girl in the baby blue cocktail dress as
she and her husband followed the ugly giant across the room.
Greg laughed a greeting to Martin and they were introduced to
the Grants. Monroe left them alone, not wanting to seem as if he
were imposing.
"Who was that bruiser at the door," Greg asked.
"My bodyguard. He's most helpful."
"I don't think I have ever seen a more ugly man in my life,"
Janet said, genuinely in awe of the huge man, but trying to seem
sophisticated at the same time.
Peter told them Monroe's story as they walked behind the
curtain to a large door. He took out his key and unlocked the
double lock, then motioned them to ascend the staircase.
The men talked while Janet thought about the bodyguard who had
seemed so polite. He acted somehow as if he had been waiting for
her especially. Of course, he probably had special instructions to
meet them at the door and take them to Peter Grant. She always
enjoyed being watched by men, but not leered at. He's just a dumb
animal, she thought, pushing the sudden anxiety from her mind. He
meant no harm.
She had no idea what the party was going to be. She had
supposed it would be a dinner party in the private rooms above the
main club. She had heard Greg speaking with Martin about the
excellence of the upper rooms. Though Greg had changed a great
deal in the last few days, she thought his enthusiasm was for the
food Martin had told him about. Greg said nothing to her when she
had casually asked during the drive to the Tomb.
It must be special, perhaps a surprise. She knew she would
spend the night in bed with Martin after they left. It was obvious
and she didn't really mind it. Once or twice a week for a few
weeks wouldn't hurt. Greg didn't object, but seemed to look
forward to being with Darleen. If that was the case, then she
should not object, but make the most of whatever would come of the
night.
At the top of the stairs they entered the first door on the
right. The room was blue, covered with drapes. Four other couples
sat on red pillows on the floor. The men rose as they entered.
One by one Peter introduced the newcomers to the special club
members. Most of the men were about Martin's age, or a few years
younger. The women were in their late twenties and exceptionally
beautiful.
It was apparent to her that they were all affluent. The men
all wore black ties and tuxedos, as did Greg, but theirs seemed to
fit better and they wore them more comfortably.
Everyone held a tall frosted glass. A waiter brought a tray
and Janet took a glass. It was filled with a light red liquid that
tasted much like punch, but with a strange, haunting sweetness to
it. "What is it," she asked Martin.
"Something from the islands. It will do you no harm," he
said, then added with a warning smile, "but watch out for the
kick."
Janet didn't understand why he laughed. Surely he wouldn't
think of spiking this punch as he had done to her earlier. They
could not possibly do something like that in a place where all
these wealthy and important people congregated.
Later, when everyone had gotten to know each other, she heard
Peter talking to the huge bodyguard. "I think we are ready," he
told Monroe who stood by the door. The bodyguard walked into the
hall and locked the door at the top of the stairs and then locked
the door to the room from the inside. He stood like a statue and
nodded to his employer. Peter took a seat and spoke with Martin.
She didn't hear what he said, but thought it had something to do
with either Monroe or the door. He nodded several times in that
direction and the two men laughed.
Monroe knew what the two men were talking about. He was
pleased that so much notice was being paid to him tonight. He
would be the center of attention and wanted to perform well in
order to please Peter. He looked at the girl that would soon be
his and smiled inwardly to himself. Yes, he would please his boss
very, very well tonight.
His large hairy hand turned the dial beside him and the lights
dimmed to almost darkness.
"Tonight has a special treat for us donated by none other than
Martin and Darleen themselves." Peter Grant said from his sitting
position. As he spoke one of the curtains parted, displaying a
large white screen. Janet turned as she heard a curtain open
behind her, exposing a motion picture projector. Monroe walked to
the machine and turned it on.
Janet took another large sip of her drink. The glass was
almost empty. She had never tasted anything like it. It was like
a mixture of strawberry and cantaloupe. A waiter took her glass
and handed her another without her asking then passed the tray to
the other guests as they replaced their empties with the glasses he
gave them.
Lights flashed on the screen. A small whirring sound came
from behind her as she listened to Peter. "We have two new members
with us tonight. You have met them. And now you are about to see
them in action." Janet did not quite hear what he said but she
gathered that he had been speaking about her and Greg by all the
turned heads that looked in their direction.
Martin knew exactly what Peter meant. The light from the
screen reflected on his lewdly grinning teeth. This was going to
be fun he chuckled. Really fun.
Janet watched the white sands of a familiar California beach
roll across the screen and felt herself becoming extremely light
headed. She gave a puzzled look down at the drink. No, she
thought, shaking her head. He wouldn't dare do it here. Besides
he was never near the drinks. He couldn't know which one would be
mine.
Deep in thought about the drink, she didn't notice the house
on the screen. She looked up when she heard Peter speak. "You
will all recognize Martin's beach house. Everyone here has been
there at one time or another. With the exception of these
introduction shots, this whole film was shot last weekend. It took
a lot of work getting it developed in time for tonight."
Last weekend, Janet thought, suddenly alarmed. Martin didn't
have a camera. There must be a mistake. Ten seconds later she
knew it was no mistake. The screen flashed with the whiteness of
bare skin. The lens zoomed away from the skin until the whole ten
foot square bed was in view. Janet gasped.
That was her on the screen. She was with Martin. She started
to rise, but was too dizzy. She turned to Greg, but he was gone.
There was no trace of him in the room. What was happening? She
looked helplessly back at the screen, her throat contracting
painfully. She wanted to scream. Everyone was enjoying the film.
In living color on the wall she was astride Martin. Janet watched
herself in horror. His penis was hidden deep within her as she
rode him like a horseback rider, his rigid cock disappearing into
the crack between her thighs, so that only a tiny little stretch of
it was showing, wet and glistening.
"You all know about the hidden cameras," Peter said to the
group at large. "But of course, the new couple had no idea that
they would be photographed. Looks just like you," he added,
turning to Janet who could not take her eyes off the screen.
"This is part of your initiation into the inner circle,
Janet," he said. "You should be proud that you turned out so well
in the flics. Most of the people here did not turn out nearly as
well," and then he turned his attention back to the screen.
As Janet watched, she remembered everything that had happened
to her during the weekend. The scenes switched often. Like a
psychedelic film, the projector was revealing every exciting moment
of her lost weekend.
She looked around the room for Greg. The couples on the
pillows were undressing each other in the semi dark room. Janet
could see that the couples she had been introduced to were not
together. She looked to the screen to see Darlene and Greg, then
back to the room, searching for her husband.
All the people in the room were almost naked now and playing
with each other. None of them had engaged in actual copulation,
but that was not far off, she could see. But where was Greg? If
all these other people were going to do it then she and Greg could
too. She wanted to do it!
Her mind was not her own. She could feel the fire between her
legs. The room was hot, but she did not want to strip. Not by
herself. A hand rested on her shoulder. Expecting to see Greg, or
at least Martin, she was surprised when she turned.
Peter stood over her, his swollen penis jutting out from his
body. One of the women stood nude next to him. "That is only part
of your initiation," he said. "It's hot, don't you think? Let's
take off your dress and get naked."
She did not want to, not here like this with a perfect
stranger. "Where's my husband," she asked, an alarmed expression
on her face. "Where's Martin?"
The idea of being in a room full of nude copulating strangers
excited her, but she did not want to be with one of them. She
wanted one of the men she knew.
Peter pointed across the room at his wife, who was straddling
a man lying on one of the pillows. "There," he said. "There with
my wife is good old Greg. He's one in a million, that boy. It
took him no time at all to get into the swing of things."
She could not believe it. She staggered to her feet. The
drugged drink had hit her like a dozen martinis. She could hardly
navigate as she walked through the naked, squirming bodies sprawled
on the floor. The room flashed with different colors, nearly
blinding her. On the screen scores of still shots flashed.
Pictures of her with Martin, Greg and Darleen ... Oh, God, she said
aloud as she saw herself with Darleen on the screen, the two of
them in a wild lesbian embrace with her own face sunk tightly
between Darleen's straining thighs.
She tripped over another pillow and fell to the floor, her
head beside her husband's. The euphoric look on his face needed no
explanation. He, too, had taken the drug, she thought. A laugh
brought her eyes up to Deborah who was sliding herself up and down
on Greg's swollen shaft. The delight in her eyes was too much.
Janet could not take any more. All of these people were fucking
and she had no one, no one except the men on the screen and in the
strange distorted haze of the drug it suddenly all seemed so unfair
... so unfair ... and ... and sick ...
She picked herself off the floor and started for the door.
She had to escape. They were all insane. Not even in Rome would
they have done this, she thought. They were all crazy ... all
crazy. As she walked, the flashing lights from the screen dimmed.
She reached out for something to grab and steady herself in the
darkness.
The screen flickered a few more times and died. The film clip
had ended. Half conscious, Janet felt a strong hand lift her and
carry her across the room. She felt the man take a small step up
onto the tiny stage that was covered with pillows directly below
the screen that was being shut out by the closing curtains.
The hands worked eagerly at her dress taking it off quickly,
but carefully, not damaging her garment. She hadn't the strength
to open her eyes. Her ears barely heard the moaning and gaspings as
couple after couple raced to wild orgasm in the room around her.
"Ready," she heard Peter's excited voice after a few moments.
She was completely naked and vulnerable, lying limply back into the
mattress, she shuddered and tried to close her arms over her
exposed breasts as she felt the hot breath of a man breezing across
her stomach.
The man stood up. "Ready," he answered in a heavy guttural
voice.
Her eyes popped open at the sound of the deep voice that
boomed over six feet above her head. Oh no, she thought, as she
looked up to the underside of the largest penis she had ever
imagined. It jutted straight out from his body in magnificent but
frightening erection, curving slightly upward toward the large
bulbous head. It was ten inches long and had an incredible
diameter.
It should have belonged to Zeus, the god of war, but instead,
was connected to the hairy muscular body of Peter Grant's
bodyguard. "Ooooh," she gasped aloud. His feet were on either
side of her head. The hairy muscular legs rose from the small
stage like giant monuments to the phallus at their apex. Janet
shuddered, her body shrinking down tight into the mattress.
"You're awake," Peter Grant said smiling down at her. He
leaned over, putting one knee on the pillow by her hips. "We were
afraid you'd had too much. How do you feel?"
The girl could not answer. She tried to focus on his face.
She turned her head and saw that the men and women in the room had
gathered near the stage in a close semi-circle, their eyes bearing
excitedly down on her naked flesh. They were still fondling each
other and some of the leering faces were familiar. Martin was with
one of the other women and his wife gently stroked Peter's hanging
penis as he talked with her.
Janet looked for Greg. He sat three feet from her, his
fingers between Deborah's legs, fondling the soft lips of her open
vagina only slightly hidden from view by the soft silken hair
surrounding it. He was not better than the rest, she thought
dimly, hopelessly. Her mind screamed at him, but the response to
her vocal chords was too slow and by the time it reached her lips,
it was no longer necessary.
She could smell the sweetness of sex in the room. Her own
husband had become a part of this ungodly group. "Remember," Peter
said in a slow hypnotic monotone. "I told you that the movie was
the first part of the initiation?" She nodded vaguely.
"Well this is the second part. Greg," he said, pointed at her
husband. "Has already fulfilled his second half. Now it is your
turn. All the men drew straws to see who would be your partner and
Monroe won. I hope you are as good to him as you were to our
friend Martin on the screen."
The girl could not believe the words. They seemed almost in a
foreign tongue. These were respectable people. Yet they were all
in this room with the same idea in mind ... community sex. She
looked about her and saw many of the large cocks again growing to
erection from the sight of her young helpless body. The potion had
taken good care of all of them.
Janet looked about her. The couples were swaying gently to
the soft Indian sitar music that now flowed through the room. It
was like a sacrifice. She was the most innocent of the group and
they were going to change her, make her exactly like them,
perverted, insane with sexual desires.
Her future flashed before her as she looked into the dark, far
away eyes of her husband and her friends. There was no escape.
She knew that no matter what she would try to do, they would have a
hold on her. It was no use, no use at all.
The music sounded louder to her. A faint drum and sitar
played in the melodic undertones of the new music of the twentieth
century. She was on an altar, her innocence about to be
slaughtered in sacrifice to the ritualized sex cult of the new age.
Tears filled her eyes. Once she had wanted children. After
tonight, she, like the rest of the couples, would have no children.
No woman would be able to face a child, knowing that she had done
what she was about to do.
If the act had been totally forced upon her, such as rape, she
might have survived, but she knew she would willingly consent.
Tears involuntarily streamed down her face and she found herself
actually wanting Monroe to take her with all his ugliness, all his
brute strength, right in front of these people. She wanted him as
she must have wanted Martin, as she would want so many other
faceless men in the years to come.
She uttered a silent prayer for herself as the giant bent to
kiss her. His yellow teeth shown from under his dark mustache.
His breath was strangely sweet. He must have made a point not to
offend her and seemed almost like a child to her, doing what he
knew would feel good, doing what he had been summoned to do.
She made no sound as his heavy lips sensuously caressed her
neck. The aphrodisiac accented the touch of his hairy lips upon
her skin, her legs weakened as he leaned his body on top of her.
The huge swollen prick was lying against her thigh almost
reaching to her waist. Its size outlined against her flesh
frightened her. Perhaps, not knowing what he was doing, he would
kill her with his monstrous weapon. It would be impossible for her
to take such a massive cock into her. God, she moaned in her half
conscious state, she would be split open and she prayed silently
that pain might black her out, then she would not have to remember
what happened when her reason returned and with the reason, the
horrible, horrible guilt of the leering faces around her.
She looked at the swaying eyes as they stared through the dim
light. She could see her image reflected on their glazed pupils.
The couples silently sipped at their drinks.
Her husband looked down at her with a detached interest, his
interest in her was not her plight, but what the sight of her with
another man would do to excite him. He smiled as Deborah slid her
hand between his legs and played with the soft flesh surrounding
the base of his erect penis. He was like a total stranger.
Janet stared at him. It was not her husband at all and he
could never be again. For them, marriage would only be a
partnership in adultery. She accepted the fact with a foreboding
shudder of the future and turned her attention back to the Goliath
on top of her.
What the hell, flickered through her shattered mind. If
that's what the bastards, including Greg, want then give 'em a show
they'll never forget!
Monroe was too excited by her beauty to control himself. He
did not know what to do and was surprised and grateful when the
beautiful girl he held started to gently scratch the small of his
back with her nails. He wanted to get inside her at once and feel
the sweet warmth of her pussy clasping around him but she was so
small, he was afraid he would hurt her.
Then, unexpectedly she rose to a sitting position beside him.
He looked at her while he leaned on one arm. He did not know what
she wanted. He turned his head to find Peter, hoping that the
little man would have some advice for him, some word to guide his
next move. But he needed no next move.
Janet gently pushed at him, so that he would lie on his back.
The giant obeyed like a small child. She closed her eyes and tried
to smile, hiding her disgust at the ugliness of his innocent face.
She doubted if a face like his even held the intelligence to add
simple figures. They were both nothing but playthings of the
group. They were to perform, or be thrown to the lions of
loneliness and so they obeyed.
She straddled his chest and touched her lips to his neck. He
had no foul odor as she might have imagined. He was clean, and
though his hands were rough, his skin was as soft as any man's
might be. As she worked her way down his body with her lips she
could see his muscles straining, holding back.
She slid her body further down as she toyed, teasingly with
her teeth at the hair around his nipples. His entire body was
covered with thick, black hair, though not as much as many men she
had seen and it strangely excited her in a primeval, animalistic
way.
She could see the power of Greek gods in the muscles that
strained beneath his tight skin. Suddenly her rear end bumped into
his upward straining shaft of flesh. The head was white hot and
she felt for a moment as though she had been burned. All the eyes
in the room were intently glued to her now. They had expected to
witness a wild, brutal ravishment and her sudden assent and
participation had stirred their perverse expectations even more.
Without a sound the huge man started to roll his body so that
she slid off and for a moment she was again afraid, too afraid to
notice the heat welling up inside her. Monroe saw that her nipples
were erect and knew that he would excite her as he had frightened
her. Every woman that he had had in the last few years was as
excited as she was afraid of his huge bulk and strength. But
somehow this one was different. He could feel that her fear was
not entirely of him, but of something in their audience. His
unresponding brain could not determine what.
She lay on her back. Her husband and the others watching and
waiting in excited expectation. She knew now that he had been to
the club already, probably since Sunday. She knew that he had
knowledge of what was to take place on the stage and vowed that she
would revenge herself on him now if she could only stand the shame
and humiliation of doing it in front of all these leering faces.
The giant leaned over and straddled her. His fingers stroked
the moist lips of her vagina. He wanted to be sure that she was
already rising in desire. He needed to be assured that she wanted
him and was ready when he took her. The pain would be too great
otherwise.
Instead of leaning forward and kissing her as she expected,
the huge bodyguard began to shuffle forward on his knees, one
straddling each side of her body. Her face was as close to the
giant's pulsating cock as she had been. It swayed from side to
side as he moved forward like a cripple, inching slowly on his
knees, his body erect.
He leaned forward and placed his hands on the pillow above her
head. The cock was now dangerously close to her face. Her mouth
hung open at the sight of it. Her amazement did not cease. Such a
penis should belong to no man, and it didn't. It belonged to the
animal that leaned over her. He moved a few inches backward until
his balls rested on her belly.
The huge, crimson head rested in the cleavage between her
breasts. All eyes in the room looked at the gigantic reclining
log. Slowly the big man began to rock slightly. She could feel
the soft tickling sensation from the hair of his testicles as they
seemed to roll across the flesh of her chest and stomach. They
were huge and unexpectedly heavy. It's been a long time for him
she thought, knowing that they must be filled to the brim with
eager, but dormant sperm.
Her skin tingled at the touch. The great log moved between
her breasts and she lifted her hands to their sides. She pressed
her firm full breasts toward each other so that the shaft became
almost invisible between them when he rocked backward.
Each time he came forward she could see the huge head
appearing snake-like through the opening it made between her
breasts. She pushed her head back into the pillow and looked up
with open mouth at the man who straddled her. His mouth also hung
open in lustful wonder as he stared down at her voluptuous young
breasts held so tight around him. His mustache was damp with
perspiration. She knew that it was almost too much for him, that
he was holding back with all his power to save himself as long as
he could. It gave her a sudden, great sense of power to know that
in spite of all his strength and power she could control him this
way.
They looked at each other for a long while. Both had become
kindred spirits. Both knowing that they were being used for other
people's perverse pleasure. Monroe was ashamed that all these
people should watch the girl submit to him. He knew he was ugly
and she was too beautiful to ever have done anything with him if
she had not been forced.
She smiled up at him and he felt better. If they must do it,
then he would not hurt her. Her eyes remained wet as they began to
set a perfect rhythm. Each time she saw the huge cock disappear
and reappear between her breasts she nearly gasped in unfounded
fear.
Her loins ached at the wonderment of anticipation of being
screwed by the huge cock. Her legs were spread wide down behind
him and the air in the room lavished her yearning vagina with
kisses. She turned to watch the spectators.
They had not stopped staring, but their fondling had become
more alive. She could see the other couples toying with breasts,
with legs, with penises and hands roaming haphazardly everywhere.
In the reflection she could see her husband insert his index finger
into Peter's wife's moist, open vagina as she squirmed down on his
hand, her eyes wide and smoky.
Janet reached up with her nails and lightly scratched the
giant's back. He moved forward, stopping his motion. He wanted
her to suck him, but was afraid that her mouth would not be big
enough. All the women he had ever had always wanted to suck him,
but few had succeeded in taking the whole of the giant head between
their lips.
She slid her nails along the small of his back and over the
muscular buttocks pressing them slightly toward her face. Slowly
he lowered his hips as she urged him forward. The tremendous cock
was only an inch from her lips now and in his excitement a single
drop of clear translucent liquid seeped from the throbbing tip.
She removed her hands from his buttocks and reached up toward his
straining loins.
"Aaahhhhhh," he sighed as she took hold of the throbbing prick
with both hands. Her touch was light, yet firm. The crowd moaned
their approval in unison, excited at the prospect of watching this
young, pure housewife sucking the giant man hovering over her face.
She pulled her hands toward her mouth, stroking the massive
cock gently back and forth. She pursed her lips, ready for the
real beginning. She was going to suck this man in front of all of
them. She would make the women jealous, she thought in her drug
inspired daze, and the men too. She would show them and they would
all like to trade places, but she and Monroe had the stage and were
going to keep their place. If these people needed something like
this to stimulate them then she would give it to them, like they
had never had it before. She knew that not long from that moment
she would be one of them. But tonight she would be above them, not
far, but above them at least.
She bent her head slightly forward and her tongue darted out
at the single clear drop, licking it lasciviously back into her
mouth. She closed her lips and swallowed the sweet droplet,
savoring it dramatically for the benefit of her audience.
"Mmmmmmmm," she moaned. It was sweet, sweeter than Martin or her
husband. It belonged to a man who could break them both in half,
and probably would do so at her command.
She rolled her head to the side and looked at Darleen who was
intent on vengeance, but had failed. Her revenge had become
Janet's pleasure. The girl was in the center of the stage, and she,
Darleen, had become just another bystander, content to watch the
role be played out before her, only able to catch a glimpse of and
feel vicariously the ecstasy the younger girl enjoyed.
Janet swirled her tongue around her lips moistening them for
all to see and turned her head back to the cock she held between
her hands. Another droplet appeared. She opened her now moist lips
and pulled him closer to her, closing her lips wetly over half of
the white hot head.
"Oooohhhh," the huge bodyguard moaned as she gently began to
suck at him. Her mouth was already almost opened to its fullest
extent and she didn't know if she could get even the head inside.
She stretched her jaws wider and pulled him gently, until with
sudden grunt of straining effort, she swallowed the whole head into
her mouth.
A gasp came from the women who watched. None of them would
have attempted it, though they would have wanted to. The girl
relaxed her jaw for a minute, playing with the tip of the huge
organ that filled her mouth. Her tongue licked small circles on
the underside of his glans, sending fiery needles of sensation up
his back to his imprisoned brain. No woman had given him this kind
of treatment voluntarily and it was driving him almost insane.
He closed his eyes as she started to suck harder and pull more
of his swollen cock into her mouth. She knew that she could not
take much more but her sudden hunger was becoming insatiable. Her
jaws were sore, but she savored the moisture rising in him and
sucked as though her life depended on it. Not even half the
massive prick had fit into her mouth. It was impossible to take
any more.
She slid her head back and forth as best she could, hearing
the giant moan each time she did but she was nearly exhausted,
though the fires deep within her were burning harder. She wanted
to swallow all of the huge cock, to show them all, but knew it was
no use. She wanted the pain of him entering her fiery cunt,
hurting her for what she had done, for becoming a raging animal no
better than the rest of those who watched her. She wanted to be
punished, punished as she had never been before.
"Eat her," she heard someone whisper from the crowd. Monroe
recognized the voice and knew that he must obey. Peter would
punish him if he did not obey, though it took all his will and
strength to pull away from the warm, moist shelter of her mouth, he
knew he must. He had no choice.
Janet slackened her jaws when she felt the big man pull
himself away from her. Peter must have said it, she thought,
turning her head to see the panting crowd at their side. They had,
without exception, put down their drinks and some were now watching
down on all fours, their mouths hanging open, waiting for the next
move. Peter's wife had dropped to her knees in front of Greg and
she saw her eyes looking sideways at her as she sucked hungrily at
his cock. He was leaning back on both hands, supported by
trembling arms as he excitedly watched Monroe's penis slowly pull
away from his own wife's ovalled lips.
Janet's eyes adjusted to the little more light that came to
them when Monroe had moved his body that had shadowed the
illumination from the blue bulb at the other end of the room. Her
legs were spread, her knees almost pointing completely away from
her. She lay limply back, ready for anything the hulking giant
wanted to do to her now. The pain in her jaws subsided as she
waited almost impatiently for the next move.
"Oooohhhhh, Darling," she cried out as she felt his tongue
part the thin, golden pubic hair that sparsely covered the soft
pink lips of her cunt. Her words even further excited the
spectators. She was completely at his mercy, totally under his
power and she loved it. She loved it so much to call the huge
hairy beast, Darling.
He used his large fingers to hold the lips apart. He pulled
his head back a few inches to focus his eyes on the sweet
loveliness he was about to eat. It looked so clean, so pure. The
smell was sweet, like the smell of fresh rain in a forest. He had
never experienced anything so clean, so innocent, so eager to
please him, and now he would please her.
His tongue darted out at the swollen clitoris that throbbed
like a man's tiny penis. It was erect with throbbing desire and
yearned to be kissed. He pursed his lips and planted an almost
affectionate kiss on the small pulsating bud, groaning in a child-
like reverence as he did so. The women sighed as they watched,
their own loins burning now with desire for the brute. Janet
moaned quietly and smiled at his gentleness as she waited with
bated breath for the next tingling touch.
She did not have to wait long. His tongue twirled around the
bud and licked softly along the swollen pink lips that surrounded
it. He would be gentle.
"Ooooooohhhh," she moaned as he licked slowly along the bright
crevice that glistened with her own lubricating moisture. Her moan
was the only noise in the room. The others, watching, breathed
shallow quiet breaths, lest they miss something.
Janet rolled her head from side to side slowly in rhythm with
the tongue that prodded her to greater heights of ecstasy. Never
had she thought such an ugly, brutal looking man could give her so
much wild, uninhibited pleasure. Her eyes scanned the crowd,
barely seeing them. She was alone as his lips and tongue nibbled
hungrily down between her spread-eagled legs. The humiliation she
had suffered could never be repaired, but the sexual excitement she
experienced could never be replaced again either.
The tongue found its way to the soft flesh of her pussy and
quickly darted inside. She felt herself jerk slightly toward him.
His fingers held the soft moons of her buttocks apart while he
toyed with her rubbery yielding anus. Please, don't, she begged
silently. She knew that it would hurt too much. If he took her
there, she would surely die.
She could feel his tongue searching the opening of her vagina,
playing with the smooth, moist flesh at her entrance. It hardened
slightly and probed further up into her passage, curling to the
very depths of her being. Her eyes blinked furiously causing weird
shadows to dot the ceiling and her desire suddenly knew no bounds.
God, if he didn't fuck her soon she was going to explode from the
sudden heat of her obscene passion.
Monroe, too, was ready when he heard her.
"Fuck me, Darling. Please I beg you. Fuck me now, split me,
but please Fuck ME!" Her screams shocked the whole room. None of
the people were ready for it. The sudden outburst was like an
order for all the couples to fall upon one another and begin
thrusting swollen cocks into hot fiery cunts. Their attention had
left the stage.
The giant, in his wild excitement, crawled up and kneeling
between her legs poised the head of his massive prick at the
throbbing entrance to her wet, open cunt. She relaxed her loins as
best she could, hoping that the initial thrust would not hurt too
much. Tears of sexual tension filled her eyes and streamed down
her cheeks. He touched the hot, pulsating head against the tight
pink opening and pushed slightly.
"Ugghhhh, God!" she moaned, anticipating the greater pain that
was to follow.
Then, he ground his way up inside her. The pain was not as
bad as she had expected. He was being as gentle as he could until
his cock was buried halfway into her cunt. Then with a single
thrust, which he could hold back no longer, he drove it the rest of
the way into her.
"Aaaarrrgghhhh!" she screamed. "Oh, God it hurts!" as she
felt his massive balls slam hard into the softness of her upturned
buttocks.
She sobbed as he started to stroke her with long, smooth,
piston-like movements. He knew that the worst was over for her as
it had been for most women once he had stretched them wide, and in
a moment, she knew it too. The tremendous pain turned to a sudden
all consuming pleasure. Her ready, well lubricated passage had
swallowed the whole of his cock. The fit was tight, but her
flowing sexual liquids made it feel as though his cock was slicing
through warm, melted butter as it slid lasciviously in and out
between her open thighs.
Monroe knew he would be quick, though he was not as fast as
some of those in their audience. He could hear men and women
already groaning in orgasm as the balloon of pressure built up in
his own testicles and suddenly burst.
"Uuuggghhhhnnnn," he cried, trying to stifle a scream.
His wildly ejaculating sperm burst into her like a hot,
erupting geyser, spewing into and filling the whole of her belly
until she thought surely she would burst from the hot, rampaging
pressure. But, the white, thick liquid gushing from his jerking
organ into her open vagina only drove her to greater and greater
heights, her legs kicking and quivering helplessly out in the air
on either side of his pounding hips.
The lewd, hungry tension deep inside her grew and grew and she
knew it was only seconds away ... seconds ... seconds ... and then
it exploded! Her own wildly flowing juices swirled around deep
inside her and mixed obscenely, lasciviously, with the hot, boiling
sperm still spewing forth from the gigantic instrument buried deep
up her churning crevice.
"I'm cumming, oh God, fuck harder, I'm cuuummmmming! Give it
to me, fuck me! Ram it to me till I die! Aaaaaaaeeeeeeee!
Oooooooh!"
Her head rolled helpless from side to side, the long blonde
strands of her thrashing hair whipping into the mattress like a
snapping bull whip, her eyes bulging wide, as though they were
straining to leap from their sockets.
And as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The blubbering
Monroe collapsed in a helpless heap on top of her and her own arms
and legs fell limply out to the still shaking mattress beneath
them.
They lay still for a moment, unable to move and their breath
coming in short, recuperative gasps. And then a command from the
side of the bed from a voice that she recognized dimly as Peter's.
"Get up, Monroe. My turn to plow this little beauty now."
And she felt the large hulking weight lift obediently from
her, his huge, log-like cock slipping from her sperm filled vagina
with a slight sucking noise.
And then another weight pressing her legs wide apart and
falling heavily down on her sweating body.
"God, yes," she found herself mumbling incoherently as she
pulled her thighs hard back against her breasts to receive the
hardened cock of the lust-maddened Peter. I have become one of
them! I have become one of them! Ooooooooooh God, yessssss! Ram
it deeper! Ram it deeper! Deeper, till I die!"
The End
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