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Subject: Story: The Straying Wife (08/26)
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The engineer slowly slumped backwards onto the bed, breathing heavily,
and groaned in wonderment and surprise. The combination of alcohol and
the stunning blow to the head made him go limp as a rag... and he
passed out - unconscious beside her.

Kim lay naked, her blue eyes watching her husband. Then, feeling
something she couldn't quite fathom, she looked down between her
fingernail-streaked breasts to her long flat belly... and at the
scratches and bruises there... and at her prominent mound of Venus and
the way her softly curling red pubic hair was wet and matted. Her legs
were splayed ivory white in the lamplight, delicately carved yet
strong and firm. Already she could see bruises that were a deep purple
plum color and more scratches. Gingerly, she shifted her weight and
tilted her groin to one side, feeling the cheek of one buttock. It was
sore and stung from the gouges left behind from his fingernails.

Instinct told her that Hank wasn't going to awaken. In fact, she was
going to have trouble getting his huge naked bulk under the covers.
She lay on her back, relaxed, catching her breath, her ripe, firm
young breasts heaving up and down. The base of her neck was still
pressed painfully against the headboard, wedged there by Hank's brutal
thrusts, and she lay much in the same pose as Nichole had a few miles
away in Pebble Beach a little earlier in the evening. Kim lay with her
magnificently fleshed breasts in front of her face, her pert chin
forced into her chest. Idly, she passed her hands over them, feeling
their liquid weight and warmness. They were bigger, fuller, better
formed than Nichole's. Kim's finger tips skimmed lightly over them,
testing them tenderly for sore spots and bruises. Her lacquered
fingernails gently touched her nipples; they sprang to life as she
watched them, pale pink and hardening, tensing, pointing
provocatively.

In a sudden odd mood, she looked down at her nakedly sleeping husband,
seeing him framed between her breasts that were almost - not quite -
too large for her frame... breasts that she felt she should be proud
of, yet wasn't! Almost unaware of what she was doing, the voluptuous
young wife dug the fingernail in the softly yielding flesh of her
nipple. Than, she took the buffeted nipple between her thumb and
forefinger and pinched it with her fingernails, deliberately hurting
herself and sending an unexpectedly erotic tremor of excitement
through her naked body.

She stopped guiltily, her hand covering her mouth against a little cry
of amazement. Kim had just stumbled on a self- discovery, and it was
far from pleasant. She thought: Actually, in a funny way, a wrong way,
a dirty way, I really enjoyed being handled so roughly. If only I
hadn't been so afraid...

She shook her head, refusing to finish the thought. Quickly, then, she
got up and hurried to the closet, where she got a robe, then she fled
to the bathroom while Hank snored.


Chapter 3


Carmel has one of the loveliest beaches in the world. Its sand manages
to stay a virgin white and the beach front runs for two curving miles
from the Pebble Beach golf course to what residents call "The Frank
Lloyd Wright house" which is an imposing home built on the rocks,
right above the ocean, by that famous architect.

The beach, in all its vastness, seems to absorb people as a sponge
does water. It would take a large assembly to seem crowded. It looks
crowded really only twice a year: on the Fourth of July, and during
the Great Sandcastle Building Contest. On other days, people sunbathe,
children play, surfers surf, brave ones swim, people ride horseback,
and dogs race - tongue lolling, barking, after the seagulls. An
occasional Sea Lion swims along just beyond the surf, old men fish,
joggers jog and others simply stroll. All this happens and the beach
doesn't seem crowded. Each person has a feeling of privacy.

People use the beach from morning until night when flickering orange
bonfires warm groups of picnickers. At sundown, people are invariably
seen walking or parked along Scenic Drive or simply sitting on benches
along the road or seen standing, alone and quiet. Sunset in Carmel is
a quiet time and people talk in hushed voices and lovers stroll hand
in hand. Sunsets in Carmel are always dramatic and always different
and always something seen on a postcard and cannot believe because
they're too pretty, too colorful and too dramatic. 

It certainly isn't thought unusual to see people with binoculars on
the beach or sitting in parked cars along Scenic Drive. There are all
sorts of wildlife to observe: gulls, terns, pelicans, seals, sea
lions, sea otters, and, in season, the California Gray Whale in
migratory herds. At times, the Killer Whales are seen, their dorsal
fins cleaving the water of the bay in search of prey.

There was nothing unusual in the Mercedes-Benz that parked along
Scenic day after day. Nor was there anything odd in the occupants---a
man and a woman---watching the beach through powerful binoculars. They
were attractive and well dressed and looked as if they belonged to the
Carmel scene. The girl was young and extremely attractive with a dress
that was just a little too colorful and low cut. Her cleavage showed,
disappearing down into a soft shimmering shadow of warm flesh. Her
black hair was long and swept across her forehead, and her smile was a
dazzling white. Her nose was provocatively tilted on the end. The man,
the driver, was older and his face was thin and spartan, aristocratic,
and his black hair was sprinkled and streaked with gray. He wore gray.
He was dressed in gray slacks, gray shirt, and gray cashmere sweater.

They were watching a solitary stroller who walked by herself down by
the water's edge. They had been watching her for days. She walked the
beach twice a day: in the early morning and at sunset. She walked to
and from the beach to her house, a cottage, that was three short,
tree-lined blocks to the ocean.

She drove into town once a day, going to the post office to mail
letters and pick mail up. She shopped in the mouth of the Carmel
Valley at the Safeway and Long's discount drug store. She only shopped
once a week. She stayed home every night, watching television then
retiring early. Only once since they had been watching her, had she
gone out in the evening, going to an early movie alone.

The occupants of the car were Web Hardman and Nichole Parker. The
person they were watching was Kim. Web focused his binoculars on her
as she walked the beach, and he slowly brought her voluptuous young
figure into a shimmering detail. He inspected details of her sensual,
finely shaped body with a scientist's detachment and passion for
detail. She wore little makeup. Her nose was so perfect, so delicate,
that he was sure it had been bobbed. Yet, as he inspected it through
the glasses, he knew it wasn't. There was a purple bruise mark on her
neck that was almost concealed by a silk scarf; the bruise interested
him. Her attitude interested him. Generally, her face was preoccupied,
serious, and, at times, little sad. She was very definitely alone. A
glint and flash of light on the fingers of her left hand told him she
was married.

Her body was a pleasure for him to watch as she walked along in the
loose sand. She always wore tight slacks that allowed him to see and
imagine her long, firmly shaped thighs and tapered legs, her sensually
petulant buttocks that twitched and ground with every step. And her
breasts - always under sweaters or heavy sweat shirts that were too
big for her (undoubtedly her husband's)---shook free, bouncing with a
sprightly rhythm when she sometimes ran to avoid the last flat surge
of a wave. Her body was strong, and the wind blew her flame red hair
wild and ruffled around her face, giving her regal queen-like features
a certain Irish bawdiness in appearance.

Web slowly lowered the glasses and stared off, seeing Kim nothing more
than a distant silhouette on the beach. He didn't want to show too
much pleasure in Nichole's choice. It was a policy with him never to
flatter her too much. Always let her be a little hungry. Yet, he was
pleased with her choice. He was more than pleased! For the first time
in a long while, he was sexually excited.. He was aroused. Kim Stewart
was a magnificent specimen and provided an interesting challenge. He
looked at Nichole, smiling slightly. Since he had forced her to admit
she would betray a friend, would betray them sexually, and then help
him in the seduction, even Nichole had taken on a new sexual interest.
It was mild, but an arousement nonetheless. He had become even more
interested after he heard the name, Kim Stewart. He had her
investigated by his bodyguard who was trained and very adept about
such things. Be came back with a report on her. Married, living in a
cottage in Carmel, her husba!  nd



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