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Subject: NEW The Reluctant Couple
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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 to write these
stories.
I can only be ... "TheEditor".
The Reluctant Couple
By Grant Roberts
Chapter 1
Standing at the kitchen sink in the small duplex she shared
with her husband, Roger, Diane Slater stared gloomily out through
the window at the cold, rolling fog which had come in over San
Francisco's Richmond District from the ocean. Damn, but she hated
the fog! It made everything so dark and cheerless, so lonely.
She finished washing the last of the breakfast dishes and put
them in the rack to drip dry. Then she emptied the dishpan and
wiped her hands on a dishtowel. In the living room, she fluffed
the couch cushions and straightened the magazines on the coffee
table and emptied the ashtrays--every day, prosaic chores, fraught
with dullness.
She wished it were tomorrow, Saturday, and Roger were home.
At least they could get out then, go for a ride down the coast to
Monterey or across the Golden Gate Bridge into Marin County,
anywhere just so long as they got out of The City for a few hours.
But it wasn't Saturday, and Roger wasn't home. Roger was making
neat columns of figures in his ledger books, or whatever it was
Chief Accountants at Waller, Waller, Crist, and Maxwell did
during, working hours.
Diane sat down in the big overstuffed armchair. It was cold
in the front room, and she had gotten a small chill. Well, it was
always cold in there. She'd asked Mr. Comstock, the landlord, to
have the wall furnace checked for malfunction, and he had said he
would see to it; but that had been two weeks ago, and no one had
come around yet.
I don't know why we can't afford a better place than this,
she thought. Roger makes good money, almost a thousand dollars a
month, and we live like we're in the throes of poverty. Well, I'm
tired of it. We've been married for two years now, and we have
almost eleven thousand dollars saved. That ought to be enough for
that split-level in San Bruno that Roger is always talking about
buying, shouldn't it? At least for the down payment, and for new
furniture and appliances and things like that?
But every time she broached the subject to him, he put her
off. "We still don't have enough money saved," he told her. "I
don't want to owe anybody anything when we make the move, Diane. I
want to be free and clear and independent; I want to own
everything outright. That's real security."
Well, that was fine. But wasn't she entitled to some
security now? She didn't even have transportation--Roger took
their four-year old Plymouth to work every day--and if she wanted
to go downtown shopping she had to walk half a mile to a bus line
and then transfer twice. What kind of life was that for a healthy
young woman? All she had to do all day was sit in this duplex
apartment and watch television or read, waiting for Roger to come
home and offer her a few kind words and some companionship.
Diane stood up and went into the bedroom and began to make
the large double bed. Was she being unfair? Was she being too
demanding? No, she didn't think so. She only wanted what other
young married couples had--while she was still young enough to
fully enjoy them.
No, if anybody was too demanding it was Roger. Physically
demanding. She shuddered involuntarily as she tucked the bottom
section of the sheet under the mattress. It seemed to her
sometimes that that was the only reason Roger married her in the
first place: for her body. All he ever thought about was sex. He
wanted to make love almost every night, and then in all kinds of
perverted positions and ways. He had even tried to make her kiss
him ... there, on that monstrous penis of his...
Diane shuddered again. The thought of Roger's huge,
purplish, rock-hard member, tearing into her defenseless vagina,
made her tremble with fright. He was like an animal at times,
saying lewd things to her in bed, saying foul words that rang like
the bell of doom in her ears and brought tears to her eyes.
Didn't he know how to be gentle, to be patient? She had been a
virgin when she married him, he had known that better than anyone.
She had told him about her strict religious upbringing, about how
the word sex had never been mentioned in her household, told him
frankly about that because she wanted to be a good, passionate
wife to him. All she had asked was that he be patient with her,
give her time to develop her sexual desires, to throw off the
inhibitions her environment had subconsciously built within her.
He had promised that he would.
And then he had all but raped her on their wedding night.
God, what a travesty that had been! She remembered it
clearly, the shy way she had come to his arms in the little
honeymoon cottage in Carmel, trembling with fear and--yes, with
expectation, too--only to be violated unmercifully by that
gigantic monster between his legs...
She simply did not understand it. There had been nothing in
Roger's manner when they were dating to indicate this was the way
he was. Oh, she had been curious, of course, and had allowed
minor petting--allowed him to play with her breasts, and to kiss
them once or twice. But he had always stopped when she asked him
to. Even that one night on Lookout Drive in Marin County, where
they had gone after dinner at Sabella's to look at the Bay three
months before they were married.
Diane remembered that night vividly now, blushing a little at
the recollection. She had drunk a little too much wine with the
broiled lobster, and had fallen into a giggly, playful mood,
almost a teasing mood. She hadn't meant to let things get as far
as they had, and she was sorry afterward that it had happened.
But it had happened...
They had parked in a small turnout, in a grove of eucalyptus
trees. The view of the Bay, with its millions of tiny, winking
lights had been breathtaking. And the mood had been full and
golden in the starlit sky. She had moved close to Roger, nuzzling
against him, and his arms had gone around her. He had kissed her
then, lightly at first, then more ardently, his tongue flicking
over her lips, and she had felt a stirring deep in her stomach,
responding to his mouth, accepting his tongue deep inside her own.
Before she quite knew what was happening, his hands had been
on her breasts, lightly, stroking gently, and a warm lethargy had
taken hold of her. His touch was so good on her body! She had
kissed him more passionately, and when his hands strayed down
inside the low-cut front of her summer dress, she had made no
immediate move to stop him. It was only when fingers deftly slid
the dress straps from her shoulders and pulled the front down to
expose the creamy white globes of her full, darkly pink-nippled
breasts that she had felt the first tinges of panic.
She had tried to pull away. "No, n-no, Roger, we mustn't!
We ... can't go any ... further!" she had said, breathlessly. But
his head had dipped down and his lips had closed around one of the
rigid pink nipples, sucking it gently, rolling his tongue along
it. She had felt blind, wild passion surge through her at the
contact of his mouth, and in those few seconds her resistance had
melted. He sensed this, and his hands had begun to stroke her
soft, vibrant legs, moving higher, sliding the short skirt of the
dress up on the smooth white flesh of her thighs. His fingers had
traversed the down-soft surface of her inner thighs until they
almost touched the moistening mound of her pantie's crotch band,
his mouth moving urgently on her breast now.
"No, no, no!" she had moaned, but it was an ineffectual cry
and the sensations which coursed through her were new, and strange
and wonderful. Her brain had been reeling, torn between the
sensuous manipulations of Roger's mouth and hands--and the inbred
concept of sexual contact before marriage as a cardinal sin. She
wanted to be free of his warm, wet lips, his moving hands, and yet
she didn't. A battle raged in her mind as Roger's hands raised
the dress even higher, bunching it about her waist, and his hands
had taunted her smooth, flat stomach. Suddenly, his fingers were
inside the elastic waist band of her panties, touching the soft
pubic mound within, moving down to touch the slightly quivering
passage of her naked vagina. The touches of his fingers there
sent rippling waves of ardor boiling and flooding into her brain,
numbing it, and she gave herself up momentarily to the new
sensations in her loins as he gently parted the soft virginal
pubic hair and slowly insinuated a finger into her tender,
sensitive cunt, so wet from the passion fluid seeping from its
trembling walls, expanding the small membranous opening which
denoted her virginity. Then he had found the tiny, oscillating
bud of her clitoris and begun to stroke it lightly with the tip of
his finger, causing her to cry up into his mouth with sheer
delight. It was so good, so good, and at that moment she didn't
care if it was wrong, it felt so wonderful...
But then she had heard the whisper of his zipper, and her
eyes had flown open and the spell was broken. She looked down in
sudden, consuming terror to see the huge, blue-veined length of
his erect cock held lewdly in his free hand. She watched in
fascinated horror as it seemed to jerk spasmodically, and a thin
oozing liquid seeped from the tiny glans opening.
"Baby ... baby, I ... need you, I want you, Oh Jesus Diane, I
want you so goddamned much ...," Roger had moaned, and with his
other hand he had begun to pull her panties down.
She had begun to struggle then. "No, Roger, stop, stop!" she
had screamed. She strove with all her efforts against him, trying
to free herself from his grasp, but he was too strong for her. He
had forced her down on her back on the seat, and she had felt that
warm sticky head of his cock against her thigh, felt it trembling
there as he tried to work its impossible length upward to her
pure, defenseless vaginal opening. She squeezed her legs tightly
together, still struggling, still fighting, and then Roger had
cried out, "Oh Christ, oh son of a bitch, I'm going to cum, I'm
going to cum!" His member seemed to jerk out of control against
her leg, and then Diane felt a great warm floodtide of hot liquid
flow along her thighs, inundate her fleecy golden pubic hair,
drench the soft, still quivering folds of her cunt. It was as if
she were being drowned in a never-ending torrent of sticky sperm
as he moaned and writhed convulsively above her...
Afterward, they had sat in shameful silence in the car, and
Diane had cried uncontrollably. He had tried to comfort her, to
tell her he was sorry, but she had refused to allow him to touch
her. She had felt soiled and dirty and humiliated. But later, when
she had calmed down enough to look at things rationally, she had
realized Roger was contrite, and as miserable as she. He begged
her to forgive him, and told her that he wouldn't touch her again
until they were man and wife. And she had forgiven him, because it
was partially her fault. She accepted that partial blame, and
told him so, and confessed that she had allowed things to get well
out of hand.
There had been no more episodes after that. Not until their
wedding night, when he had never given her the opportunity to
allow her sexual excitement to build normally and had attacked
like some demented, mindless beast...
Diane felt her stomach churning as she recalled the Lookout
Drive occurrence, and her wedding night. The chill seemed to be
stronger now, and she shivered more violently. A good, hot bath,
that was what she needed. To soak away the chill--and some of the
memories with it.
She finished making the bed and went into the bathroom. She
put the stopper in the tub and ran water into it, testing the
temperature as she twirled the two chrome handles. When it was
just as she liked it, hot but not too hot, she undressed quickly,
folding her plaid skirt and frilly white blouse and her under
things in a neat pile on top of the clothes hamper. As she waited
for the tub to fill completely, she looked at herself critically
in the full-length mirror attached to the back of the bathroom
door.
She was a small woman, barely three inches over five feet,
but her body was beautifully and symmetrically proportioned. Her
blonde hair hung long and when she let it fall down across her
shoulder it covered partially her full, round breasts. She did
that now, and thought: I look very sensual that way, almost
brazen. She swept the hair back again, studying the creamy white
skin of her breasts, with their marbled and blue-veined
translucence, the dark areolas making large, perfect accents for
her small, now-rigid nipples. She raised her arms over her head,
stretching her tits taut, looking like a classic nude sculpture in
pose.
She stood that way for a long moment, letting her eyes move
down across the flat surface of her stomach, past the tiny
puckered outline of her navel. The triangle of her womanness was
silky and golden, very fine, highlighting the pink fullness of her
vaginal lips. She could see the tip of her clitoris peeking out
from the soft puffy slit in an almost childish shyness there.
She pirouetted lightly, examining the dimpled roundness of
her satiny buttocks, the rippling muscles in the backs of her
slim, tapered thighs. The veins in the soft hollows in back of her
knees were prominent, tantalizingly so, and her calves and ankles
were shapely.
I have a good body, she thought. I really do. But it hasn't
brought me any physical happiness in two full years of marriage.
I can understand, certainly, why Roger becomes so aroused at the
sight of me nude. That much I can understand, and it pleases me;
my ego is as strong as any other woman's, and it's so nice to know
that I have an attractive body. But what I can't understand is
why Roger treats me the way he does. I always thought men
respected beauty of form, protected it--not flailed it as if it
were something terribly ugly, to be sneered at and scorned and
treated with contempt...
Diane became aware of a wafting cloud of steam and realized
that the tub was filled almost to the brim. She turned off the
faucets and tested the water with her hand. A little hot, but
that was fine; she was so cold. She stepped into the tub, felt
the heat of the water envelop her as she slowly sank down,
banishing the cold, filling her with a relaxed, almost contented
feeling as she lay back with her head touching the rear lip of the
porcelain.
She lay there for almost ten minutes, relaxing, blanking her
mind to all but the lethargic warmth of the water. And then the
sounds began to filter through the thin walls of the duplex.
Diane stiffened in the tub, even though the words were at
first indistinguishable. Damn that Judy Carneal! she thought.
She's entertaining some man again in the middle of the day. Why,
she's nothing better than a ... a whore, the way she carries on!
Men always in her place, always different men, coming at all hours
of the day and night. Not that it's any of my business what she
does, but these walls are so paper thin that you can hear
practically everything that's being said and that's going on over
there...
A man's voice said suddenly, distinctly, "Come on, baby,
let's do it right here."
"Ahh, Harry, not in the bathroom," Judy Carneal's voice
answered clearly. "We'll go in the bedroom, honey."
"No, right here. I've always wanted to have my cock sucked
in the john."
"Well ... all right."
"That's it, baby. Take off that housecoat so I can see those
big tits of yours while you suck me."
"How's this, Harry?"
"Beautiful, baby, just beautiful. Damn, but you got a fine
set on you. Come over here so I can feel your cunt... Good,
good. How do you like that, baby?"
"Mmmmmm!" And then, "Take your cock out, Harry. Let me see
that big monster of yours."
"Okay ... there it is."
"Oh, Harry, it's so hard! It's like a chunk of granite,
Harry! God, what a beautiful cock!"
Diane lay rigid in the warm bath water, listening, holding
her breath. Dear God! she thought. They ... they were
disgusting! They were sick, disgusting degenerates! He ... he
wants Judy to ... to kiss his ... penis and she's going to do it!
She's going to take his big ugly throbbing penis, like Roger's,
between her full red lips and ... and...
"That's it, baby," the man's voice groaned. "Stroke it a
little, that's it, run your fingernails along my balls ... easy,
damn you, easy..."
"There, honey. How does that feel?"
"Oh, Christ, get down on your knees, will you? Start sucking
it, you bitch, start sucking it!"
I can't listen to any more of this! Diane's mind screamed.
I've got to get out of here! It's sick ... lewd ... disgusting
... But she only lay motionless in the warm water, holding her
breath, feeling a strange series of involuntary sensations
churning deep in the pit of her own stomach as she listened to the
salacious conversation filtering through the thin wall separating
the two duplex bathrooms.
"There ... ahhhhh ... oh, that's nice, Judy baby, the inside
of your mouth is like warm butter! Oh Jesus, that's ... ahhhhh!
... that's real nice, baby!"
"Ummmmmmmmmmm!"
"You know how to ... ahhhhh ... suck it, oh Jesus you really
know how to suck cock, baby! You love cock in your mouth, don't
you ... don't you ... oooohhhhh, agggghhhh, ummmmmm!"
Stop it, stop it, stop it! Diane screamed silently. But she
looked down at her breasts and saw that the nipples were turgid
now, jutting up from the gently bobbing globes of her breasts like
mountain peaks on some lonely Pacific island. A tender aching had
begun between her legs, in spite of the revulsion she felt at the
words she was hearing. She moved her hand from the side of the
tub and touched her breasts, touching one of the nipples, and then
pulled her hand back quickly. The contact of her own fingers had
intensified the aching in her cunt. Dear God, what was happening
to her? Had ... had she become sexually aroused listening to that
filth next door? No, no ... but it was true. Her entire being
quivered beneath the tepid bath water.
"Oh Christ, Judy, Judy, suck it ... suck it!" the man groaned
through the wall. "Yes, that's it that's ... it ... milk it dry,
you hot little bitch ... suck me dry ... ohhhhhhh!"
The inside of Diane's mouth was dry, and she ran her pink
tongue over her lips several times, trying to dispel the arid,
cottony taste. She found herself trying to picture in her mind
the position Judy Carneal and the man, Harry, were in. He was
sitting on the toilet seat ... yes, that was it, sitting on the
toilet seat with his legs spread wide and Judy was kneeling
between them, her long auburn hair fanning out over his belly and
abdomen, taking his blood-swollen shaft into her mouth and
suckling it, up and down, up and down, up and down...
A wave of shame caused her to flush a violent crimson. She
was no better than they were! Thinking lewd, filthy thoughts,
working herself up into an impossible froth ... Suddenly, she
wished Roger were home. She was aroused, all right, there was no
purpose in deluding herself that she wasn't. For the first time
in two years, she was sexually ready; if Roger were only here she
would gladly accept his huge penis now, she needed release, needed
it desperately...
"That's it, that's iiiiitttt! Tickle my balls, baby ...
tickle them ... holy Christ, I'm almost there ... suck it harder,
Judy ... harder ... harderrrr! ... aaaaggggghhhhh, ohhhhhhhh!"
Diane lifted her hand from the edge of the tub again and
began to massage her right breast, slowly, rhythmically. God, I'm
sorry, I'm sorry! her mind almost screamed. But I don't care, I
can't stand it! Her mind had blotted out all the evils she had
been led to believe came from masturbation. There was only her
urgency now, her need for release from the intense arousal of her
body by the lustful activities beyond the paper thin bathroom
wall.
She continued to massage her breast, avoiding the nipple at
first, cupping the creamy naked globe in her long slim fingers,
kneading the translucent flesh, causing whirlpools of passion to
seethe within her. Then she touched the nipple with her thumb,
felt it diamond hard. She rolled the ball of her thumb back and
forth across the erect bud, intensifying further the rising
crescendo of sexual frenzy.
Diane arched her back, raising her hips off the tub bottom,
lifting her stomach and the dripping, hair-covered mound of her
loins out of the water. She braced her body by pressing the soles
of her feet to the porcelain, and then lifted her left leg out of
the water, hooking it over the side of the tub, opening wide the
soft, fluted edges of her cunt. Still she massaged her now wildly
trembling breast, teasing the nipple, pinching it between thumb
and forefinger until it throbbed like a thing alive.
From next door, Harry screamed, "I'm ... going to cum, baby!
Suck it, bitch, suck it suck it suck it ... aaaaggghhhh, I'm
cumming, I'm ... cummmmiinngggg, aaaahhhhggg!"
Diane could stand it no more. Her other hand dipped down
between her widespread thighs. It was wet with something else
besides the water, with the secretion of her passion. She gentled
her finger into the moist flesh, and the feeling generated by her
own fingers was so very, very good. She manipulated the soft hair
lined inner lips until she could feel them swelling with the rush
of blood, and her clitoris was rigid and tingling. Her index
finger came in contact with the trembling bud, and she began to
gasp with total abandoned delight as she felt release imminent.
Her hips thrashed the bath water and her hand squeezed her breast,
released it, squeezed it harder. Faster, faster, faster her finger
rubbed across the sensitive clit, blanking her mind of all
thoughts, all sanity; nothing existed for her in that moment
except the delirious coming of her impending climax...
And then she was there!
She was cumming like a wild woman!
Her hips flailed frantically at the water, beat it to a
froth, as wave after wave after maddening wave of intense,
bursting release seized her. Pinwheels of light, in kaleidoscopic
colors, appeared in back of her eyes and she cried out, once, in
pleasure so acute it was like pure pain. As her orgasm began to
ebb, her buttocks sank back to the porcelain bottom of the tub and
her hand stilled but did not leave her cunt. She lay there, not
moving, her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her chest rising and
falling spasmodically.
From next door: "Jesus, Judy, there's nobody who sucks cock
like you do. Nobody a-tall! You got every last goddamned drop in
my nuts down that throat of yours!"
"I'm glad you liked it, Harry honey. Now how about doing the
same for me? My pussy's on fire!"
"All right. And after that, I'm gonna throw a fuck into you
like you never had before. And that's a promise."
"What are we waiting for?"
There was the sound of a door being opened, and then closed,
and then there was only silence. Diane lay there, listening
disappointedly to that silence, and sanity returned to her
satiated brain.
With it came abject mortification.
She was sick with the knowledge of what she had just done, of
the act of carnal self-abuse that she had performed on herself.
What was the matter with her? Was she so starved for love that
she had to resort to masturbation for satisfaction? Was this what
Roger's animalistic love-making had driven her to? Would she
repeat time and again these self-manipulations in order to achieve
emotional release?
The questions churned and twisted in Diane's mind. She felt
sick to her stomach, and ... impure, as if her body were harboring
thousands of tiny, invisible, creeping things. Abruptly, she
stood up in the tub and switched on the shower, letting the needle
spray grow as hot as she could stand it and then lathering herself
from head to toe with scented feminine soap.
At the end of ten minutes, she began to feel a little better.
She stepped out of the shower, refusing to allow her mind now to
dwell on what had happened only minutes earlier. She toweled
herself dry briskly, not even looking at her glowing pink-red body
in the full-length mirror. She dressed hurriedly, and went out to
the kitchen.
This day was wrong, all wrong. Last night, she had told
Roger that she would have something special for him when he came
home from work this evening, but hadn't told him what. It would
be a surprise. What she had been planning was a very fancy shrimp
Creole for his supper, his favorite dish, with a bottle of good
Chablis she had bought from savings out of her grocery money, and
candlelight, and soft music; it had been her idea to get him in a
gentle, tender, loving mood, so that later on, when they went to
bed, Roger would come to her as a husband and a lover--not as a
brute. But then the loneliness of the morning had taken hold of
her, and the old bitterness at his treatment of her over the past
two years, and now the ... the scene in the bath tub ... Well, it
was all spoiled now. She didn't even want to think about sex or
love, much less about making the complicated shrimp dish from her
grandmother's recipe.
Still, she had to have something with which to occupy her
time for the rest of the day, until Roger came home. It was
barely noon now, and the prospect of simply sitting in front of
the TV screen for the remainder of the afternoon had no appeal at
all for her. Too, there was the fact that she had already bought
all of the preparations for the Creole--fresh, deveined shrimp and
green peppers and garlic and paprika and stewed tomatoes...
Well, she might as well make it now. But there would be none
of the Chablis with it, and no candlelight or soft music. It
would just be a dinner, like all other dinners. That was all.
Diane opened the refrigerator, took out the shrimp, and set
intensely to work on the side-board.
Chapter 2
Roger Slater was adding a long and intricate column of
figures when Marcus Cord knocked on the edge of his office door.
Roger looked up from the IBM calculator and smiled. "Come in,
Marc."
Cord entered. He was dressed in the latest semi-mod fashion,
not in the conservative grey or black three-button business suit
which Roger wore. Cord had on a double-breasted pin-stripe jacket
over checkered, slightly bell-bottomed pants, a rich blue shirt
with a bright, wide-patterned tie, and Roger knew without looking
that the shoes would be an off-color with wide buckles. Cord's
hair, was a premature salt-and-pepper, which he wore long with
thick, bushy side-burns. The total effect was impressive, rather
than ostentatious or absurd. If he, Roger, ever tried to wear
such clothes, he would have looked absolutely ridiculous and would
probably have been fired as well.
Cord grinned and said, "Am I interrupting?"
"No. I'm just finishing the Apperson account for Pierson to
see. What's on your mind?"
"Some of us are stopping off for a drink tonight, and I
thought you might like to join us."
"Great. Count me in." Well, why the hell not? Roger thought
bitterly. What's there to go home to, anyway? Just a cold,
frigid wife, that's all. Well, maybe after I've had a couple of
drinks, Diane will begin to look interesting again. Although I
doubt it. He said, "Where?"
"There's that new place around the corner. You know, the one
that looks like an English pub. I understand it has atmosphere,
drinks are reasonable. Pig and Whistle, I think is the name."
Roger nodded. "I may be a little late, but I'll come by."
Cord slapped his hand against the door. "Fine." He turned
and walked away, swaggering a little as he always did.
Instead of returning to the Apperson account, Roger stared at
the computer in front of him and thought about Marcus Cord. The
man was easy to envy, for he had the handsome attributes of wavy
brown hair, blue eyes, and a dimpled smile which made women take a
second look. He had been a football player in college, which
hadn't been so many years ago to have lost Cord his muscular and
well-developed physique; and combined with a charming and
sophisticated manner, which was not affected but extremely
natural, Cord made the women take that third and fourth look as
well. He exuded sex like an aura around him, and damnit, he knew
it.
Roger remembered when Diane had first seen him after shopping
one night a couple of months ago, when she had met him for a ride
home. By chance, Cord had been standing outside the office
building with him at the moment Diane walked up, and when she laid
eyes on the man, Roger knew she was violently attracted to him.
Physically, lustfully, hungrily; not with love or tenderness which
had characterized her desire for Roger. Animal instincts--pure
bitch heat, and he had felt the rise of jealousy spread through
him. He had been rather nasty to her that night, and they had
ended the evening in a bitter fight. He had thrown the way she
had acted toward Cord at her then, with all the acid of a man
scorned. She in turn had denied everything, swearing it was only
Roger she wanted, and that he was fabricating and fantasizing the
whole thing. The problem had been that she really hadn't done
anything. There was nothing Roger could point to except the
explosive air which had been generated. He knew and she knew and
Cord knew; but that didn't win the argument for him.
Still Marcus Cord was higher up in the corporation than
Roger. He was in another section, a vice president in charge of
customer service, which meant that his power over Roger was only
indirect--but not worth crossing. Roger knew that if he alienated
Cord, his chances of a good long term career at Waller, Waller,
Crist, and Maxwell would be ended.
Besides, Roger had no reason to feel that Cord was a threat
to his marriage, or that Diane, as indifferent as she was in bed,
would ever consummate her desire if offered the chance. Cord had
enough women to satisfy the most accomplished satyr. Although
married to a beautiful woman from all that Roger had heard, he was
nonetheless the office cocksman. He was smart enough not to fool
around where he worked, or at least if he had, there had been no
talk of it. God knew he could have had any of the nubile, mini-
skirted girls in the typing pool, and they wouldn't have kept
their mouths shut for a second. Yet when Cord was some other
place--a bar, a restaurant, anywhere where there was a female
around--he was definitely on the prowl. Roger had heard from
another of the staff that Cord had once picked up and later bedded
an airline stewardess on the forty minute run between Los Angeles
and San Francisco--an almost impossible feat.
Roger shook his head. Why the hell couldn't he be that way?
He was so God-awful inhibited, not at all like Cord. Why was he
so damned straight and staid? He slammed his fist against the
desk top. Well, if Diane kept up the way she was going, he would
damn well stop being so stuffy and start being more of a swinger!
Roger stayed late at the office, even though he didn't feel
like it. The Apperson account went slowly after he got back to
thinking about it, instead of his wife and himself and Marcus
Cord. He had to get it done; he had promised it to his boss, Ernst
Pierson by the next morning. It was the hour here and the hour
there of overtime which made the company begin to take notice of
him, of that he was sure. Take notice they had: Two fifty dollar
raises in six months, and promises of promotions and other
benefits. The firm was shorthanded, too, which made his position
even more valuable, and Roger willed himself to put in the
overtime and forget how tired he was. He wanted to get ahead and
earn more money, and this was the way to do it. He had to be on
his toes, though, and that took a lot out of him. He realized that
some of the problems around his home were his, but that didn't
excuse Diane's perpetual iciness and indifference to his needs.
Roger finished at a quarter to six, and put the account
portfolio on Pierson's desk before leaving.
He doubted that Cord would still be at the Pig and Whistle,
but he felt like he deserved a drink anyway. He walked around the
corner and entered the little bar. It took him a moment to let
his eyes accustom to the dimness, for the crowd of men and women
and the miasma of smoke blanketed what little light filtered from
the lamps and windows.
The Pig and Whistle was as Cord said it was: an American idea
of what an English pub might look like. The walls and ceiling
were in a pseudo-Tudor wood beam design, with the stucco painted
white. There was a long oak bar, highly polished, manned by a
large, English-accented bartender who sported a handlebar
moustache. There were long wood handles attached to the beer
spigots, and Whitbread and Guinness Stout were advertised as being
served.
There were groups of small, roughly hewn tables and matching
chairs scattered haphazardly around the room. A pert waitress
passed among the customers with a brass tray of beer glasses and
other drinks. She was dressed in 18th Century fashion, except
with an extremely short skirt, and she made sharp and slightly
suggestive remarks to anybody who spoke to her. A couple of men
were throwing darts at a circular cork board in one corner. Roger
didn't recognize the shorter of the two, but the other man was
definitely Cord.
Cord laughed as the other man stuck a dart in the wall next
to the board, slapped the man on the back and turned. He saw
Slater and raised a hand in greeting. "Roger! Over here, man!"
Roger made his way through the packed mass and reached Cord.
"Sorry I'm late. Where is everybody?"
"They've all gone. It's just us two." Cord turned back to
the man he had been playing with and said, "My friend is here.
Thanks for the game."
"I owe you for two, I think," the stranger said good
naturedly. "For someone who never played darts, you caught on
pretty fast."
Cord laughed and together, he and Roger crossed to an empty
table, leaving the other man standing alone. He took the chair
next to the wall and gestured for the waitress. "That man over
there owes me two beers," he told her when she arrived. "Serve
one to me and one to him," he added, pointing to Roger. "And make
it quick."
"I'll make it in my own sweet time," the girl snapped. She
swung the tray around and walked off, her rear end twitching
provocatively.
Cord laughed and then grinned at Roger. "She looks tempting.
Right, Rog?"
Roger smiled back awkwardly. This was the first time he had
been with Cord alone on a social occasion. He felt uncomfortable,
over his head in new and strange waters. Cord was an over-
powering force, he suddenly realized, somebody he would be
entirely unable to cope with.
The beer appeared quickly and again the girl swished her
skirt and jiggled the globoid cheeks of her ass at Cord. This
time Cord leaned over and patted her thighs lightly. She turned
and in mock anger told him to stop with the familiarity. He only
patted her again. The scent of sex was heavy in the air. Cord
merely had to say when and she'd ask him where, Roger thought to
himself. He gripped the thick stein handle and drank deeply of
the golden brew. It washed down his throat and he quaffed again.
The waitress left, winking at them.
Cord lit a cigarette and sipped the beer and looked very
earnestly at Roger. "I'll be honest with you," he said.
"Actually, there was nobody else here. I only wanted you to
come."
"But why--?"
"Why tell you that a group of us were meeting here? Simple.
In case I was overheard by those pack of ears in the office. I
didn't want them to know about it."
Roger's head buzzed. A warning bell rang in the back of his
mind, but he couldn't figure why, any more than he could figure
why Cord had gone to all this trouble. "I don't understand," he
replied, frowning slightly.
"You know, Roger, that you've been noticed."
"Noticed?"
"In the office. You've shown ambition and a knowledge of the
business, and you're young. You should go far with us."
Roger couldn't help but feel pleased. Cord only paused in
his praise to order another round, and as Roger finished one beer
the other appeared in its place.
"Our business, though," Cord continued, "has a great deal of
politics." He took a final puff on his cigarette and put it out
in the pewter ash tray. "In fact, those politics are often cruel
and unjust, and to the unwary can be deadly."
"I've never tried to do anything to buy my job, Marc, if
that's what you're driving at."
"No, no, I realize that," Cord replied. "You've been
conscientious, and you've tried to be fair with everybody.
Believe me, that's a refreshing change from the usual." He waved
to the waitress that he wanted another round, and then refused to
take the money Roger offered. "This is going on my expense
account, Rog. I can afford it better than you. Just drink and
listen to me." He paused again. "The office has been talking
about Drake retiring soon, haven't they?"
Roger nodded. "I think Jim's due to leave next month, isn't
he?"
"He is, and that means I'll be looking for a new general
manager for my section. Now we both know that Willard Lewis wants
that position, and that he's in line to get it."
"I thought that was pretty well settled. I mean, by the way
Willard has been talking, I assumed--"
"Right," Cord said, breaking in. "He has an excellent record
and has been with the company for a good many years. By all the
written rules of good company policy, Roger, he deserves the job."
Cord pursed his lips thoughtfully and then took a drink of beer.
"Weigh his qualifications against anybody else's, and he's the
man."
Roger's thoughts raced at what he imagined might be said
next. Did this meeting represent ... was Cord trying to offer him
... damn it, was this all a lead-up to his appointment to the
managerial position? His hand trembled as he drank, and the
thrill of such an unlikely possibility coursed through him. God!
He dare not dream of such an advancement!
"But this is where the politics I mentioned comes in," Cord
said, interrupting Roger's reverie. "Business isn't always done
by the rules, written or unwritten, and quite often it's a matter
of manipulations."
"I'm afraid you've lost me."
Cord chuckled. "All right, Rog, I'll lay it on the line. In
plain language, the promotion belongs to Lewis, but my intentions
are to give it to you. Am I clear now?"
"I'm ... overwhelmed, Marc! I truly am." Roger paused. His
brain was spinning excitedly. "But you said politics. That's
still a little ..." He searched for the right word. "Unclear."
"Perfectly obvious to me. Lewis is old fashioned. He's too
goddamned set in his ways, and as I move up in the firm, he could
be more of a liability than an asset. I'd hazard to say that he
could even become a danger to me."
"And I wouldn't be, is that it?"
"I can trust a man who'll stay by me and guard my backside.
You can be that man, Rog, if you want to be. You're interested in
getting ahead, and you're young enough to see how sticking by me
can help you. Let me break the ground, and you'll ride to the top
with me, that I promise."
Roger was stunned. He quickly took another large swallow of
beer. "That sounds fine with me, Marc. I'll ... work for you in
every way I can. You can count on me."
Cord offered his hand and Roger shook it, sealing the
bargain. "I'm sure I can count on you, Rog," Cord said warmly.
"I pride myself on analyzing character, and you're not the kind to
think up clever schemes or angles, and stab me in the back."
For some reason Roger felt a pang of self-revulsion. "You're
right, Marc. I don't have the guts for politics."
"I didn't say that, Roger."
"No, but it's true. I'm colorless, too staid and too quiet.
I tend to climb into a safe little hole so that I won't see what's
really going on in the world." Roger wondered why he was talking
like this, especially to Cord. But then, hadn't his prospective
new boss been candid with him, taking a chance by confiding in
him? Embarrassed, Roger laughed self consciously and raised the
beer glass. "Here's a toast, Marc," he said. "To the perfect
combination of the swinger and the prude."
Cork clinked glasses, smiling broadly. "Here's to us, all
right. But don't belittle yourself, Rog. I'm too flamboyant, and
I think we can help each other. We're a good complement."
Feeling better from Cord's remarks, Roger threw his head back
and drained his beer. Cord motioned for the waitress again and
ordered another round. She left and Cord said to Roger, "After
this drink, let's go some place else. You know, find some action,
have a little fun maybe."
Roger was tempted. He was more tempted than ever before in
his married life. The idea of a hot, unknown pussy crawling and
heaving around his pistoning cock made his head swim with desire,
and he felt his prick engorge and stiffen in his pants. He needed
a good fuck tonight, and Diane was definitely not that. Then he
remembered he had promised her he would be home early this
evening, for some special reason she had refused to elaborate
upon. In spite of his sexual hunger, he had to admit that he
still loved her, and that he was a man who kept his promises. He
wanted to pound the table in frustration.
"Damnit, Marc, I can't tonight. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I'll tell you what, Rog. Why don't you and your
wife come over to dinner tomorrow night? I want you to meet
Cindy, my wife. I think you'll like her." He winked at Roger,
then turned to the waitress. She was back with the beers. He
beckoned her to lean over so that he could whisper something to
her. Roger overheard Cord ask the girl what time she got off
work. She told him nine, and Cord said that he would be at this
table, and if she would care for dinner...
The waitress smiled provocatively, nodded agreement and moved
away. Roger almost groaned involuntarily at the image of what was
certainly to follow the dinner. A fine dessert, all right...
"I've got to hand it to you, Marc," he said then, with
genuine admiration. "You really have a way with the women."
Cord gave him a superior grin. "Nothing to it, Rog. Just
takes practice. Hell, you can have it, too. Just lose some of
your Victorian prudery and play the modern role."
"Security," Roger said. "That's my trouble. I want
security. I come from an average middle class home, Marc. My dad
was a stock broker, and you know how conservative they are. We
were close, and I guess I picked up his attitudes toward
solidarity." Roger rose from the chair realizing for the first
time that he was somewhat drunk.
"Don't let it worry you, Rog," Cord said. "Maybe you can
loosen up a bit as we work together."
Roger steadied himself with a hand on the edge of the table.
"I hope so." He paused, then said, "Thank you, Marc, thank you
very much for this position. You ... won't regret it."
"I'm sure I won't. Now get home, Rog. I wouldn't want to go
anywhere else if I had a hot little piece like yours waiting
either. See you tomorrow night."
Roger smiled weakly, said good night, and staggered toward
the exit. Cord's last words burned in his mind. Hot piece. If
Marc only knew what kind of an icy bitch she really was. Even out
of bed, she demanded all the little things involved in story book
romance, with her teasing, suggestive remarks and her come-on
looks, parading around in provocative clothes. But it was all a
sham. Get down to basics, and she might as well have been encased
in a block of glacier ice for all the good it did him. His balls
and penis throbbed and ached for the loving touch of a woman, and
all he had to look forward to was cold rejection.
Roger walked to the parking lot, the cool night air
ineffectual on the rising cloud of inebriation, and picked up his
car. The beer surged through his system, and made his thoughts
hazy and his emotions fortified. Goddamn it, he was going to show
her! He was going to fuck the shit out of her tonight whether she
liked it or not, by God!
Roger drove more recklessly than was his usual wont from the
combination of beer and passion. The alcohol had completely
flooded his mind, and with careless abandon he speeded through the
downtown traffic to Geary Boulevard, unmindful of possible
violations. Christ, I'm drunker than I thought! he told himself.
He never could hold his liquor very well, and more than two of
anything, even glasses of wine or beer, affected him badly.
The heat of rising desire flamed his already lewdly-burning
thoughts. Goddamn Cord and his wanton ways! That waitress'
smirking countenance again appeared in his mind's eye. Her thinly
disguised hunger for Cord's handsome body, and no doubt huge cock,
flashed before him like a red flag in front of a maddened bull.
Like the bull, Roger more and more angry, until he almost screamed
with rage and frustration.
Goddamn his wife! His Diane, his one and only--Shit! God,
he'd be deliriously happy if only she was a woman, a red-blooded
female who wanted him! But he was denied his rights, his end of
the marriage bargain. He pictured the ideal situation with Diane,
with her mewling and moaning with pleasure as he took her a
hundred different ways, and she in turn writhing and sucking and
kissing him with unquenchable lust. He could almost feel the
creamy secretions of her cunt as she whispered his name, and he
groaned, knowing full well that her pussy was as dry and arid as a
withered old crone's.
His long, hardened prick was bent mercilessly in his pants,
and he could tell that he was oozing secretions into the cotton of
his underwear. Never had he been so hot, so intensely aroused,
not since the night on Lookout Drive when Diane had first shown
what kind of lover she was to be. The pain of his doubled cock
was excruciating, and with the desperation of a tortured man he
reached down with his left hand and fumbled for the fly of his
suit trousers. The zipper protested, for the sitting position
made for awkward maneuverability; but slowly he was able to lower
it until his white underpants bulged through the narrow opening,
and the heavy sack of cloth stretched his trousers to their limit.
Roger looked down at the protuberance. The agony of what he
was doing almost outweighed the relief he felt. My God, he
thought with horror, here I am, driving along with my pants
undone! I can't believe it! What the hell is happening to me?
Has my sense of decency become warped?
Then he remembered Cord's words: "Just lose some of your
Victorian prudery and play the modern role." Modern role: the
permissive man in a wide-open society, where sex was the game--for
its own sake and nothing more. As if in agreement, his swollen
member throbbed against its restraining hold, and it seemed to
jerk restlessly, as if seeking escape.
Trembling with the pent-up fury of his overwrought emotions,
Roger touched the swelling and felt a tremor race through his
groin and buttocks. What am I doing? I haven't done this since I
was a teenager! The narrow band of material which opened along
the front of his shorts seemed to widen as his cock bloated the
front of his pants. As if of their own volition, his fingers ran
along the band, the sensations they caused his prick almost
overwhelming. For God's sake, stop this! What would happen if
you were seen like this, manipulating yourself like an adolescent!
But his fingers continued to caress the stiffened cock, its
outline hard against the shorts, and then he pulled the material
aside and like a steel spring, his prick shot free. Oh Christ ...
no! No!
Roger tried to keep his eyes glued to the windshield, off his
erect penis, but with almost animalistic fascination he dipped his
vision, seeing the blood-filled knob's towering size. He had
never been bigger! His fingers caressed the mighty shaft, and the
cool air made it tingle maddeningly.
The foreskin folded back as his hand stroked the burning
flesh, and the head winked with its unseeing eye through the
steering wheel at him. Sperm churned in the boiling cauldrons of
his balls, and he could feel the rising of his cum in the base of
his cock. He took one last look at the action of his
manipulations, the full fist of his hand wrapped around the pole
of his penis, the furious pumping of his wrist and arm almost
forcing him to stop the car...
Thirty-fourth Avenue was just ahead, and his duplex within
sight. Thankfully, he took his left hand away from his screaming,
pleading cock and turned the wheel to bring the Plymouth onto his
street and then into the duplex's driveway. He stopped the car in
the protecting shadows of the garage. He sat there for a long
minute, staring down at his still rock-hard prick, his breath
ragged and hoarse. He realized he was too far beyond recovery to
fight the primeval urges his body thrust upon him, and his mind
began to form weird erotic scenes of the lewd positions he was
going to force his wife into. He opened the door, and started his
desire-wracked body toward the kitchen entrance, his hand once
more enclosed over the turgid shaft.
* * *
Diane straightened up the kitchen for perhaps the dozenth
time, waiting impatiently for Roger to come home. She looked over
at the table, set but incomplete without the candles and wine she
had originally planned to have. Feelings of remorse and guilt
swept through her. When she was upset like this she had to keep
her hands busy, and she occupied herself by washing a couple of
kitchen shelves unnecessarily. As the hours ticked by, the
morning's horrible experience began to return to her mind in spite
of herself. She blushed guiltily at the thoughts, shutting her
eyes tightly in a vain effort to reject the smoldering picture of
her fingers contacting the soft, wet slit of her vagina and
throbbing mounds of her breasts, and she drew in her breath
sharply to hold back a groan of humiliation. She found herself
once again reliving the maddening onanistic caresses, and her hips
churned in unintentional rhythm to the teasing recollections of
unwanted fulfillment.
The sound of Roger's car stopping in the garage brought Diane
back to reality, shattering the horrid, vile dream in her mind.
She whimpered as tears of abasement cascaded down her cheeks. Oh
God! she cried to herself. Only yesterday I had convinced myself
I would give my body to Roger tonight, and really find myself
sexually. Well, she had found a certain sexuality within her--but
not with her husband. The mental preparations had been for
naught, had actually turned her colder than ever. He must never
know. Roger must never know...
Suddenly the door burst open and Roger stormed into the
kitchen. His eyes blazed with the uncontrolled lust which burned
through his loins. His immense, ruby-tipped penis leaped ahead of
him as he moved deliberately across the room toward his wife, and
he held it pointing at her with his hand still beating the
hardened flesh.
Diane shuddered, her breath frozen in her throat, and she
could only stand immobile where she was. What ...? What was this
... this sick thing she was witnessing? Roger, her Roger,
standing there with his huge penis in his hand. Her mind balked,
and then she was overcome with dreadful apprehension.
"I've got to have you, you bitch!" Roger blurted. "Right now,
right here, and goddamn it, you'd better be good for a change!"
Diane cowered back into a corner, whimpering with fright. He
stepped closer, then grabbed her savagely with his free hand. He
swept her to him, and her attempts to free herself from his grasp
were futile. She was hauled ruthlessly against the rigidity of
his lust-hardened cock. She felt his immense weapon through the
thin material of her housedress, and she stared in abject horror
into his contorted face. His eyes were more lust-possessed than
she had ever seen them before, and his mouth was drawn back over
his teeth in an almost vicious snarl.
Wild thought of wrenching herself free and running from him
seized Diane, but her husband's strong arms pinned her to him and
his hot, beer-smelling mouth crushed against hers, stifling the
groans she emitted in a tight, grinding kiss. Oh no! Oh God no!
she thought wildly. What hideously monstrous thing is happening
to me? Am I to be raped by my own husband? Is this my punishment
for ... what I did this morning? Her eyes puddled with terrible
anguish. God, I'm helpless; I can't move; I can't move!
Roger's hands explored her body, clutching and squeezing her
soft, sensitive flesh, pulling harshly at her clothes. His
swollen, rigid prick throbbed excitedly against her as he pinned
her to him. Diane struggled feebly for one panicky moment, feeling
his hand pressed against her tender breast and then she went limp,
allowing the softness of her lips to meet Roger's own questing
mouth. She couldn't fight him, he was too strong, but perhaps if
she gave in a little it would help to return him to sanity.
Desperately she thrust her tongue between Roger's lips and deep
into his mouth, and he sucked it hungrily into the wetness of his
cheeks. His kisses burned her like a firebrand.
Roger eased his head away then and hissed: "Take your clothes
off!"
"Darling ... please!" she tried to plead with him, but it
fell on deaf and ignoring ears. "I ... have your favorite dinner
... all ready and waiting. Let's do ... this later, if you want,
but not ... not this way!"
Roger snarled and threw her to the floor. "Not this way ...
not any goddamned way if you had your choice!" he spat thickly,
his face contorted in a mask of rage and lust. He turned and
swept his powerful arm across the table, sending glasses and
silverware crashing cacophonously to the linoleum and then he
wrenched the tablecloth off and wadded it and threw it against the
stove. "The only dinner I want is a good fuck, you bitch! To
hell with the food, understand?"
Diane knew that to plead anymore would be useless. She could
only look up from her sprawling position on the linoleum and
quiver helplessly from the evil which she knew was about to be
perpetrated upon her defenseless body.
"You frigid, prick-teasing, sniveling, dried-up bitch! You
were cut out to be an old maid, a virginal old maid. Why didn't
you join a nunnery, for Christ's sake?"
Diane moaned and lowered her face to her hands as Roger
loomed over her. His long, turgid shaft bobbed above her, and she
closed her eyes. But then ... it touched her cheek! Panicked, she
suddenly squirmed and struggled with renewed strength, frenzied at
the thought of his filthy, lust bloated penis so close to her.
She raked her fingernails against his cock and shrieked, "Get away
from me! Don't touch me, you ... you animal!"
Roger lurched back beyond the reach of her claw-like nails.
"Damn you! Goddamn you!" he shouted. "I'll teach you!" He
reached out and grabbed her wrists and threw his body at her until
his cock was jammed against her face again. "You want to do it the
hard way, well then we'll do it the hard way!"
"No, no ... please ... I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Diane pleaded,
the scalding tears streaming down her cheeks as he tore at her
dress. Roughly he shredded the clothes from her, ripping and
shredding the material as if it were tissue paper, until she was
naked before him except for panties and bra. The dress lay like a
lewd blanket around her.
"Shut up, you bitch!" he snarled.
"Roger, why ... why are you acting like this?" she moaned,
his foul language and affronts a searing pain within her. She saw
him take another drunken look between her widespread legs and her
fear-quivering breasts.
"I'll tell you what you're going to do. You're going to suck
me," Roger sneered. "That's it. You're going to put my cock in
your mouth and suck it. You'd hate that, wouldn't you?"
She nodded uncontrollably. The very idea of his male organ
filling her mouth was abhorrent, and she involuntarily gagged.
Without warning, he thrust forward and down, and the mammoth,
sex-crazed head of his blue-veined penis rubbed against her taut,
lipstick lined lips. She tried to twist herself free, but he
pressed on and the saltine, musky taste of his cock began to seep
inside her mouth. She gritted her teeth and moaned: "No ... no
... please...," and as she did he rammed forward. His prick
forced its way deep into the soft folds of her mouth, like some
horrible snake crawling in its hole.
"Suck, baby, suck!" he groaned, moving his buttocks in the
pagan ritual of copulation. He dragged her hair and held it in
his steel grip and drew her head toward him in spite of her
efforts to free herself; she felt his sliding shaft burrow halfway
down her throat, then back out slightly, then forward again.
"Oh Christ, Diane!" Roger hissed, "Uhhhhhh ... I love my cock
in your mouth!"
His obscene words brought back the memory of the overheard
bathroom scene of that morning, and for an instant Diane
envisioned Judy Carneal lavishly suckling that man while he sat on
the toilet. Her lips began to nibble slowly at her husband's
thrusting instrument, and she coughed and sputtered. His balls
bounced against her chin and there was the stale odor of sweat
from his inner thighs, filling her nostrils with a constant
reminder of the cruel, depraved attack she was being subject to.
"Jesus, Jesus!" he spluttered, "Oh my Christ!"
Roger worked demonlike, thrusting his hips, his hands jerking
her head rhythmically with his motion, and he writhed and strained
as though in the last throes of death. He slipped her mouth up
and down over the end of his cock as though it were a cunt in
which he was venting the full wrath of his drunken, bestial lust.
Diane could feel his fleshy cock stretch and expand against
her cheeks until it completely filled her mouth. She had never
felt so dirty, so debauched in her life, and the one urgent
thought which she tried to find solace in was that it would soon
be over. She sucked and wriggled her lips wildly, hoping to make
him cum quicker, please him as best she could and pray that would
be all he wanted or would take. She worked in a daze at the
command of his fingers, licking and sucking like a hungry child as
he forced her to follow slavelike his every thrust into the tender
shelter of her mouth. Her ravishment continued, a ceaseless rape
of her fear contorted face.
Then as suddenly as he had begun, Roger withdrew his cock. A
small, sticky emission of lubricating fluid threaded between her
lower lip and the head like a wet spider web. For a moment Diane
hoped he might be finished with her, but then she saw that his
eyes still burned with hateful lust, and her body trembled. She
felt herself fall away and roll to one side, wretched, debased and
lost, and the horrible image of how she must have looked with his
cock buffeting her mouth made her ache with helplessness, made her
want to vomit. She dimly felt Roger kneel beside her and crawl
his hands over her thighs. She did not move, but closed her eyes
and drifted into a semi-consciousness, past all caring.
Roger fumbled with her panties, his fingers sliding beneath
the elastic leg band, hooking the wispy silk and then ripping away
the garment with one vicious jerk. He traced the soft, hot flesh
of her inner thighs, letting the air caress the widening legs, and
momentarily his breath caught in his throat. He parted the inner
lips of her cunt and gazed lewdly into the hot wetness which
enshrined her clitoris. The full ripeness of her hips, the golden
down of her pubic hair, the flatness of her white belly were all
visible to him and his cock hardened still more at the thought of
soon ravishing her helpless genitals.
Diane tossed her head wildly, with a shudder of horror as she
felt his fingers probe the sensitive walls of her defenseless
pussy. Involuntarily, the juices of her femininity began to flow
as his pressure increased, although her mind was petrified with
her utter subjugation. The erotic shock of his hand surged
through her convulsively.
"OOhhhh!" she groaned as he leaned forward and touched his
lips to the soft, fleece covered mound at the base of her belly.
Her inner thighs spasmed and quivered beneath the thumbs Roger
pressed against her hair-lined vaginal lips. Once again, he
dipped and planted a wet kiss on her groin. He tantalized her
with eel-like flickings of his tongue, moving downward until he
spread the warm, vertical mouth of her pussy and licked the moist
coral lusciousness which opened before him. Roger's fingers
parted the damp satin-layered cunt, allowing his hungry, devouring
mouth complete access to her secret being.
Diane's elbows pressed tightly to her sides and she lolled
her head back and forth insanely as Roger's hot, searing tongue
shot out, stabbing and encircling her quivering, erected clitoris.
His lips sucked, drawing the warm folds deep into the cave of his
gently biting mouth, while his tongue continued its maddening
licking against the urgent pink flesh.
Dear God, help me, help me! Roger, Roger, has all reason
left you? Why do you hate me? Why are you filled with contempt
and loathing for me? Why am I no better than the lowest whore to
you? Diane groaned huskily deep in her throat as her husband's
probing lips licked their way up and down, up and down, the length
of her narrow slit, starting at her lower belly and pressuring
their way over the elastic rimmed opening of her clasping vagina,
into the crevice of her round firm buttocks. There, they stopped
momentarily to pay wet flicking homage to the tight pink anus
which throbbed there. She couldn't believe it ... but it was
happening to her! Involuntarily, she ground her hips down against
the hard, unyielding floor and heard herself emit strange animal
like purrings from between her tightly clenched teeth.
Roger felt the tantalizing softness of his wife's pubic hair
brush against his cheeks as he fed hungrily upon her pussy. He
unbuckled his belt and opened his pants completely, then he
slipped them down to his ankles. He kicked them off with his
shoes. Slowly, he massaged his blood-heavy penis back and forth
as he burrowed his face deep into Diane's cunt, his urge to
conquer the woman beneath him boiling madly in his veins. For the
first time since he had married Diane, he was truly enjoying her;
the pleasure he felt almost overwhelmed him. He had not dared to
think that such a coup was possible, but now, here she lay,
completely at his mercy. It was far beyond his wildest dreams!
He could not help but gloat inwardly as he plunged his tongue
into the small palpitating opening of her cuntal mouth and heard
her cry aloud. The soft-rimmed flesh tantalized him and he covered
the clasping, viscous opening fully with his lips to bring a low
guttural groan and a spasmodic closing of her warm thighs around
his head. He could feel her tight cuntal hole and squirming
crotch and wet, lubricious flesh slip moistly around his long,
extended tongue as the walls of her invaded vagina opened to his
sucking motion, attempting to ingest his tongue deeper and deeper
into it. His nose was mashed to her quivering clitoris, and he
hungrily inhaled the pungent, perfumed aroma of her. The delicate
piquancy incited his penis until he was afraid he was going to
spill his seed that very second.
God! He had to fuck her or he would burst! His cock was
throbbing wildly! With a cry building in his muscle strained
throat, Roger grabbed Diane's legs behind the knees and climbed
upward on her sweat-soaked body, thrusting her calves roughly up
over his shoulders. He splayed his hands beside either of her
arms and his palpitatingly huge cock slipped teasingly against her
drenched, saliva-soaked pubic mound.
He gaped down between their bodies. Her upturned, ivory
white buttocks completely enraptured him, and her narrow cunt lips
throbbed and expanded beneath the stabbing probe of his concrete
hard prick, their wet, pink furrows held apart by the pressure of
his thighs. He worked his cock up and down between the ridges to
part the soft blonde pubic hair and felt her spasm and shudder.
"I'm going to fuck you right now, bitch, just as if you
wanted me to ... even if it's the last time I ever fuck you!"
Diane shut her eyes against the strange, inhuman face which
leered down at her, his words unintelligible in her ears. She
could sense the fleshy hugeness of his prick lying in her open,
quivering channel, jerking and insinuating itself in a rising and
sawing motion. She felt its smooth, rubbery head convulse against
her soft, sensitive slit until it was adjusted between the lips of
her vaginal opening.
"Oh God Roger ... oh why, oh why are you doing ... this to
me?" she moaned out helplessly in her agony.
Roger could not control the sadistic desire to torment his
wife even further. Even though he had all he could do to keep
from instantaneously impaling her soft young pussy upon his aching
cock, he could not deny this intention. Shortly he would empty
the madly churning seed of his balls into her cunt, but for the
moment she was going to have to suffer further, to be forced to
realize just how frustrated and rejected he had been for these
past two years. She was going to be paid back in full, so help
him God!
At long last, Diane felt him force open her vagina with his
penis, and winced tearfully at the sudden pain. His weight
crushed against her brassiere-encased breasts as he thrust his
hips forward, and the elastic snugness of her opening resisted
only for a moment from the onslaught of his rape. Then she gave
way beneath his harsh, brutal pressure. She emitted a throaty
wail.
"Oh Roger ... please ... no, no ... not so hard!" she begged
further.
Roger was elated by her painful cry. He thrust again,
listening intently for her deeper whines, wanting suddenly to hear
her scream for mercy. He rammed forward brutally, felt his balls
slap resoundingly down against her twitching upturned buttocks.
She ground her hips against the floor in a useless attempt to
escape, and her legs jerked wide out on either side of the table,
kicking vainly at the air. She screamed!
"Roger! Rooooggggeeeerrrr! Oh God, it hurts!
AgggggggAAAAAAAAghhhhh!" she yelled as though her body had been
impaled upon some barbaric implement of torture.
His penis tore into her and scraped against the tight, still-
unready walls of her vagina. She contracted and squeezed
desperately in an attempt to force the alien invader out of her
body, and she heard Roger gasp from the sudden clamping of her
passage. But still he pushed deeper and deeper into her, forcing
the warm, moist cavern of her pussy to yield open to his
thundering rod of hardened flesh.
Lying helpless beneath him, tears of pain and humiliation
tortured Diane. She felt torn asunder by the physical force of
his entry, and the mental brutality of his unnecessarily cruel
attack. Worse, she was unable to comprehend whatever
inconceivable logic lay behind his actions. But Roger was drunk
and in no mood for explanations. He pounded his cock deep up
inside her to its hilt until she was sure he was going to
pulverize her very inner vitals. It was as if a white hot ram of
fire was filling every pore of her stomach, and there wasn't one
tiny ridge or crevice which was inviolate from his chunky weapon.
Then his hands went around and began to knead and cup the
resilient flesh of her softly mounded ass, and she could feel her
skin begin to bruise beneath his rough touch. Roger lay unmoving,
his face directly above hers as he caressed her buttocks. She too
remained motionless, afraid of the agony it would cause her if she
moved with that huge weapon inside her. Silence, save for Roger's
ragged breathing, hung between them. Suddenly, then, she felt a
throb as his cock jerked upwards in another half-inch of virility.
"Uuuuuhhhh!" she grunted, her face twisted with pain.
"That's right, bitch!" Roger taunted. "Scream for it!" He
flexed again.
"AAAAgggggg!" she gurgled, the cords of her body muscles
straining. "Oh God, have mercy! Please ... I can't take it!"
"You'll take it, all right!" came the hissed answer. "You'll
take all I can give and like it! Hear me?"
She didn't answer, only rolled her head helplessly to one
side.
"I asked you a question!" Roger snarled, thrusting savagely
into her.
"OOooohhhh, yes, yes!" she cried, afraid now of offending him
lest he be crueler and more brutal than he was now. "I'll like
it! ... I will ... I will!" she choked, tears welling in her
closed eyes as she spat out the lie. Her husband's obscene, lewd
actions had forced her to the depths of degradation, and she
doubted if she would ever be able to look at herself again with
any measure of pride. He had stripped her of her self-respect on
this night, and there was nothing left except his gargantuan cock
buried deep, deep inside her. She knew that he had sensed her loss
of the last remaining ounce of resistance, and clamping his beer-
smelling mouth over hers again, he began to rock sideways with a
sawing motion of his thighs. The agony within Diane increased,
and it was as though her insides were being shredded into a
thousand miniscule pieces. She groaned in hopeless defeat beneath
him.
Roger thrust in and out with ever-increasing strokes,
ignoring her tears and cries of anguish. He seemed to grow bigger
and bigger, battering her cervix unmercifully. She was sore and
raw and mentally scarred, and Roger felt a frenzied glory as she
defensively undulated from his skewering actions. He rampaged
against her buttocks, burying his cock again and again inside her
decimated vagina. She was his, completely his, a slave in total
submission to his every whim. He could do with her what he
willed...
"My God! My God! You're ... killing me! Oooohhhh!"
Roger laughed harshly, and as if in answer, stroked more
rapidly, hard and fast, battering her quivering, wet pussy. He
moved his hands to grasp her smooth, sweat-slick ass-cheeks and
pull them closer to his thighs, trying to blend them with his own,
his vicious thrusts filling the kitchen with lewd, resounding
smacking noises. His breathing came in short, gasping puffs, and
his body dripped steaming sweat. He felt a complete loss of all
control...
"I'm going to cum!" he shouted wildly. "My God, I'm going to
cuuuuummmm!" He groaned as he thrust his cock's full expansion
deep inside her wide-stretched vagina, his mouth dropping open and
his clutching fingers commencing to jerk spasmodically in an
attempt to open her for even one more fraction of an inch of his
cock.
"Fuck back! Fuck back! Fuck back!" he blurted. But then
the first stream of hot, white sperm began to gush up the tunnel
of his cock and surge into the well of her vagina. It burst with
the force of a tidal wave, burning into Diane's belly like liquid
fire. She could feel the filling, drowning sensation as his flow
continued to pulse maddeningly and his cum leaked down the crevice
of her buttocks and pooled whitely on her uselessly torn
clothing...
And then he collapsed, his demon cock deflating with sudden
and complete satiation. Roger fell exhausted across Diane, one
arm splayed wide. She stared at his spent body covering her,
wondering in utter disbelief how this man, her husband, could have
exercised such sick, perversions upon her. Now, in the wake of
his played-out passions, shame and revulsion inundated her, and
she let tears openly fall from her glazed eyes.
"Why?" she moaned inaudibly. "Why ... why did you do this,
Roger? Oh, God, why?"
"You'd never understand," he breathed huskily against her
bosom. "What did you ever know about ... a man's feelings?
You're the one who forced me to this. And do you know why?
Because I'm sick of pleading and coddling you to get what I'm
entitled to ... a plain, cooperative piece of ass! I married a
statue, not a woman!"
"Don't talk to me like that, you ... you filthy beast!"
"Filthy beast, am I!" He raised up beside her, his face
contorted with rage. Diane could see down between his legs and
... his cock had jumped to life again! But that was impossible!
How could he have an erection after... She stifled a cry as he
pushed his again erect penis into her aching cunt once more. His
hot, rejuvenated staff began to hammer her dry and throbbing
passage. He made a mirthless, gasping chuckle which mingled with
her sobs, and then lost itself in a continuous, inhuman grunting
of renewed lust...
Chapter 3
Roger awoke slowly Saturday morning, as if he were gaining
awareness by degrees. His temples throbbed agonizingly, and there
was a chalky, almost lacquered taste in his mouth. He groaned
slightly, raising one hand to shield his tightly closed eyes
against the bright, grayish light of dawn which burned against the
lids. He rolled onto his side, facing away from the window, and
his hand reached out instinctively to search for the warm, pliant
body of his wife. It touched only cool, empty sheet.
His eyes fluttered open then, and a nauseous feeling centered
in his stomach. Diane? he thought dimly. Diane, where--?
Suddenly, last night came rushing back to him with crystal
clarity. He groaned miserably, rolling onto his back again. The
sheet slid away from his naked body to expose the satiated
limpness of his cock. He lay there, reliving the scene with
Marcus Cord in the Pig and Whistle, his subsequent beer-and-lust
provoked handling of his genitals during the drive home, his
insane bursting into the kitchen with his cock gripped in his
hand, his wanton, perverse lust rape of his wife on the kitchen
floor...
Oh Christ, I completely lost my head! he thought with
personal loathing. I must have gone berserk to have ... have done
those things last night! I must be sick... Nobody acts that way,
not even when he's denied the love and the gratification he has
every right to expect in his marriage. He doesn't turn into a
ravaging savage, a primitive Neanderthal. He doesn't force his
wife to suck his cock in a pile of broken dishes and scattered
silverware, and then go down on her like some demented beast, and
then rape her body like a two bit whore...
Roger groaned again and sat up in bed. Fire raged in his
temples, and caused red-tinged agony to explode in back of his
eyes. How many times had he fucked her, lying there on the
kitchen floor? How many times had he ripped into her sweat-slick
body, flooding that soft, tight cunt of hers with a reservoir of
hot, sticky cum? He couldn't remember, didn't want to remember...
But it was all there, vivid, in his mind. And there, too, was the
recollection of the feeling of helpless guilt and shame which had
finally engulfed him, and the whiningly soft apologies he had
begun to whisper into her ears as he gently moved above her.
Forgive me, darling, forgive me! he had cried to her, endeavoring
to elicit the faintest response of absolution from her. But it
had been useless; she had only lain unmoving beneath him, her eyes
squeezed shut in horror and degradation, mewling with pain and
fear until he had pulled out of her. And when he had lifted her
tenderly in his arms and carried her into the bedroom and laid her
on the bed, she had only remained as rigid as a block of
beautifully crafted marble. Spent, still a little drunk, he had
fallen asleep then with his arm protectively cast across her
smooth, sperm-sticky stomach...
Roger swung his feet off the bed and crossed to the closet
and put on his heavy terrycloth bathrobe. He wouldn't blame her
if she left him now, if she divorced him, even if she brought
criminal charges against him. He deserved it.
He went to the bedroom door and opened it. The apartment was
silent. Had she already gone? Had she fled the house sometime
during the night, gone home to her parents in Menlo-Atherton? Oh
God, God...
He went along the hallway and pushed open the bathroom door.
The nausea was strong in his stomach now, and not all of it was
due to his hangover. He knew he was going to be sick. He leaned
over the toilet, and his stomach convulsed; it all came boiling
out of him in a rush, but when he was finished, and had rinsed out
his mouth, he only felt worse than he had before.
He left the bathroom and opened the door to the kitchen.
Diane was there. She sat at the table, staring blankly into a cup
of coffee, her blonde hair tousled and her beautiful body encased
in a thick chenille robe. She didn't look up as he entered. He
stood just inside the door, his eyes moving in surprise over the
kitchen expanse. It was spotless! She had cleaned up the broken
dishes, the silverware, had waxed the linoleum until it shone
brightly and there were no signs remaining of the carnal insanity
of the previous night.
Roger's heart went out to her, sitting there so small, so
fragile, so defenseless. "Diane--" he began, but her name stuck
in his throat. He tried again. "Diane, darling--"
She lifted her head to look at him then, and he felt a cold,
viscid chill move along his spine and settle between his shoulder
blades. Her eyes were filled with sheer and undiluted contempt,
with utter revulsion. "Well," she said in a voice which fairly
dripped acid, "Good morning, Roger. I trust you slept well after
last night's marvelous evening. I know you had such a lovely
time, such a heavenly experience."
"Oh, God, Diane," Roger moaned. "Please, darling, don't make
it any worse than it is. You can't know how bad I feel..."
"How bad you feel?" Diane threw back her head and laughed
without any trace of humor. "you? And what about me? How do you
suppose I feel, Roger? How do you suppose any woman feels after
being raped by her own husband, after being forced to perform
foul, disgusting acts of perversion, after being a ... a
receptacle for pure loveless lust?"
"Diane, I ... I don't know what to say except that I ... I'm-
-"
"Sorry? Well, that's just fine, isn't it? You're sorry, and
that makes everything all right again. Last night just didn't
happen..."
The pain in Roger's head was intense now. He felt anger
replace some of the remorse and shame within him at her
condescending tone. Who the goddamn hell did she think she was
acting so righteous? It was her fault that the whole thing had
happened, wasn't it? If she had been a wife, a lover, instead of
a cold fish then there would have been no necessity for desperate
methods. "Listen," he said in a controlled voice, "just what the
hell--"
The telephone rang.
Roger started convulsively at the sudden sound, his eyes
turning toward the instrument on the wall near the drainboard. It
rang again. Diane brought her gaze back to her coffee and sat
motionless, staring into the flowered china cup once more, not
caring whether or not the ringing phone was answered.
Roger moved finally, walking around the table to where the
phone was situated and lifting the receiver from its hook. He
said in a hoarse voice, "Hello?"
"Rog?" a deep, masculine voice asked. "This is Marc Cord."
"Oh ... hi, Marc."
"How are you feeling this morning?"
"Well, I--" Roger began, and then said, "Just fine, Marc,
just fine."
"Good, good." Cord's voice took on a conspiratorial quality.
"Me, too, if you know what I mean. You remember Millie?"
"Millie?"
"The waitress at the Pig and Whistle," Cord said. "Man oh
man, is she something else! She gave me a head job with a
vibrator under her chin."
Roger winced. He was unable to answer.
"Listen, the reason I called, why don't you and Diane come on
over around noon instead of tonight? We'll make a day out of it.
Cindy makes a hell of a rum cocktail."
Roger looked toward the still, rigid figure of his wife.
"Marc, I don't think--"
"Bring your swimming suits," Cord interrupted jovially.
"It's going to be a hot day over here, and we'll just lie around
the pool."
"Marc--"
"See you around noon," Cord said, and rang off.
Roger stood there holding the dead phone. Damn Cord! He
never gave you a chance to say anything, to agree or disagree. He
just commanded, and you were supposed to jump ... Well, what the
hell? Roger thought suddenly. That was how the man had gotten
where he was today, wasn't it? That was how he was able to score
so easily and so proficiently with the women, wasn't it?
Involuntarily, Roger found himself thinking about Cord's words
concerning Millie, the Pig and Whistle waitress. He wondered what
it would be like to have a woman's soft mouth engulfing his cock,
while pressing an electric vibrating massager beneath her chin.
Christ, that would be something, all right! He felt his prick
leap with a renewed burst of desire beneath his robe...
No, no, he just couldn't think about sexual things this
morning, not after what he had done, what he had become, last
night! With a small cry, he whirled, putting such thoughts out of
his mind. He looked at his wife, still sitting quietly and staring
into her cup.
"Diane," he said, "Honey, we ... we've been invited over to
Marc Cord's for the day. He wants us there around noon--"
Diane's head jerked up and she glared at him. "I don't care
whose house we've been invited to!" she flared. "I'm not going
anywhere with you today! I don't want to be seen with you!"
"Honey, please, you don't understand..."
"I'm not going, Roger, and that's all there is to it!"
Roger felt a small tinge of panic. He had to keep that date
with Cord today, there was no graceful way he could beg off. And
he couldn't go alone. How would that look? No, Diane had to go
with him. Cord was the type of man you had to stay on the right
side of, the type of man you didn't want angry at you; he was
ruthless, and he wouldn't hesitate to ruin somebody who displeased
him, who didn't fit in with his plans for advancement.
This General Office Manager's position was what Roger had
been hoping for, the big break, the major stepping stone toward
full and complete monetary and business security. He couldn't
afford to let his wife, or one crazy drunken night, destroy what
he had worked and saved and planned so long to achieve.
He sat down at the table next to Diane. "Look, Diane," he
said as calmly, as rationally, as he could--even though he was
emotionally wrought up inside, "Please listen to me for a moment.
Before I ... came home last night, Marc Cord and I had a long
talk. He offered me one of the top managerial positions in his
section of the company. It's maybe double my present salary--
double! Do you realize what this means, honey? No more duplex
living, no more scrimping and saving. We can buy that split-level
down the peninsula we've always talked about, we can get you a new
wardrobe, a car. We can live in solid comfort."
Diane said nothing, but she was looking at him now.
Roger took this as a positive sign. He went on quickly,
"I've got the job, Diane, without reservations. But Marc is a
funny sort, and if we don't show up at his place today he's liable
to take it as a personal slight. That's the way he is. And he's
just as liable to retract his offer, to give that position to
someone else. Do you see now? We have to go. I ... I regret
what happened last night more than you can possibly believe, and
I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to you. So please,
honey, please don't let one terrible mistake spoil everything
we've always wanted, everything we've built together. Don't let
it spoil our marriage. Please, Diane."
There were tears forming in the corners of her eyes now, and
he knew his pleading words had had a definite affect on her. She
moistened her pale, unmade lips with the tip of her tongue. Then,
almost spasmodically, she nodded.
Roger felt a certain elation. "You'll go?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered softly, averting her eyes again. "God
knows why, but I'll go."
He stood and went to her and tentatively put his arm about
her shoulders. She shrank away. "Don't touch me, Roger!" she
said. "Please don't touch me! I'll go with you today, because
you're my husband and because I'm not cruel enough to try to hurt
you like you've hurt me, but don't expect me to be warm and
responsive to you. Not now, not for a long time, maybe ... maybe
not ever again!"
She stood abruptly and pushed through the door, leaving Roger
alone in the kitchen. He stood by the table, hearing her words in
his brain. Don't expect me to be warm and responsive to you. Not
now, not for a long time, maybe ... maybe not ever again! He felt
a resurgence of the anger he had known just before Cord's
telephone call, and he clenched his fists tightly together.
When were you ever warm and responsive to me, you damned
iceberg! he thought viciously. Again! That was the key words
again! Christ, could she really believe she'd ever been a
passionate, normal woman? Could she really put all of the blame
for last night squarely on his shoulders?
He repressed the desire to rush in after her and put voice to
these thoughts. There was the upcoming day with Marc and Cindy
Cord to consider. In the interests of preserving as much harmony
as possible, he had best leave well enough alone for now. It
wouldn't do for Cord to sense any kind of rift between the two of
them. Knowing that bastard, Roger thought, why, it wouldn't be
surprising if ... if he tried to move in on Diane!
That thought struck Roger as being rather funny, and he
smiled. Wouldn't he be in for a surprise if he did? Wouldn't he,
indeed? She'd slap him silly, that's what she'd do. Oh sure,
there was that undeniable attraction she had exhibited for Cord's
magnetic maleness on that single occasion of their meeting, but
knowing Diane as he did, she would never allow--hell, would never
even consider--any extramarital fun-and-games. Not with that ice-
cold body and mind of hers.
Roger took four aspirin and an Alka-Seltzer for his hangover,
and then went in to take a hot shower before dressing to leave for
Marcus Cord's.
* * *
The Cord home was near the crest of a sloping, eucalyptus-
bordered drive in Peacock Gap--one of Marin County's most affluent
communities--just outside of San Rafael. It was constructed of
heavy redwood, with a lot of glass and a field-stone facade; long
and low and sprawling, it lay nestled back from the road some
hundred yards, behind a tastefully landscaped yard that included
bottlebrush and Joshua trees. The heady, redolent scent of the
Burmese honeysuckle which grew abundantly over an arbored porch
filled the warm, balmy afternoon air.
Diane sat with her body pressed tightly against the door on
the passenger side of the Plymouth as Roger made the turn into the
curving macadam drive. She hadn't spoken since they'd left San
Francisco, had simply sat with her hands folded carefully in the
lap of her flowery summer dress, staring out through the
windshield and not looking at her husband at all. Her mind kept
reverting back to the events of last night, to the unspeakable,
cankerous indignities she had suffered at the hands of this man
whom she had vowed to love and to honor and to cherish until death
did them part. Why? she asked herself silently, for perhaps the
thousandth time since it had happened. What had turned sweet,
kind, gentle Roger Slater, the boy she had fallen in love with,
into a savage creature of the primordial jungles? Was it, as he
had screamed into her pain-deafened ears in that carnal kitchen,
all her fault? No, no, how could he blame her? How could it be
her fault? How could he expect her to throw off the shackles of
her parentally instilled apprehensions at marital sex practically
overnight? Learning to accept, to enjoy, to believe in, physical
love took time; and it took patience, trust, love and gentle
understanding. God knew, she wanted to be the kind of wife Roger
expected her to be. She really did. At least she had until last
night. Now ... well, now she wasn't sure, she just wasn't sure.
She didn't know what she wanted now at all. She was so confused,
so mixed up, so hurt by his violent attack--the final, most
outrageous attack in a long series which traced back to her
wedding night, and even beyond that to Lookout Drive--that she was
still unable to project her thoughts toward any rational
conclusion...
Roger brought the car to a stop behind Cord's dark green
Jaguar XKE, which was parked before the open doors of a large,
separated two-car garage. No sooner had he shut off the engine
than Marcus Cord walked around the rear of the house on a crushed
shell path. He wore a pair of tight yellow swimming trunks, and
his bronzed, hard-muscled body glistened with a recent application
of sun oil. His salt-and-pepper hair was damp from swimming, and
he carried a tall frosted glass in one hand. Looking at him,
Diane felt a small, reflexive shudder of fascination move briefly
along her spine. Lord, but he was a handsome, appealing man! She
had thought so when she'd first met him that night in front of
Roger's office building. He had a certain ... allure which
captivated her, which made her somehow want to blush girlishly and
avert her eyes. She watched him approach the car, moving easily,
with almost feline fluidity, the strong muscles rippling along his
thighs and chest, the hard, bas relief outline of his manhood
straining at the thin material of his swim trunks...
Diane did avert her eyes then. Self-deprecatingly, she
thought: Oh, God, how can I think about Marcus Cord that way,
think about his maleness, his attractiveness? How after last
night can I ever harbor any physical thoughts about any man?
Cord reached the car just as Roger stepped out. The two men
shook hands, and Diane heard Cord say, "Good to see you, Rog boy.
How was the traffic coming over?"
"Not bad," Roger answered.
"Hey," Cord said, looking in through the wind-shield at where
Diane sat primly on the front seat, "You're not going to leave
that beautiful wife of yours sitting in there all by her lonesome,
are you?"
"Oh ... no, of course not." Roger came quickly around the
car and opened the passenger door. He offered his hand. Diane had
a fleeting urge to refuse the proffered assistance, but then she
took it and allowed Roger to help her out of the car.
Standing on the macadam, she smoothed the thin cotton
material of her dress along her waist and thighs and smiled
politely at Cord. Roger said, "You remember my wife, don't you,
Marc? Diane?"
"Indeed I do!" Cord was beaming, and Diane felt faintly
uncomfortable under his steady, open scrutiny. "How are you,
Diane?"
"Just fine, thank you."
"Good, good!" Cord enthused. "Come on around to the pool,
kids. I want you to meet my better half." He winked. "Or so she
says, anyway."
Diane walked beside Roger, following Cord along the crushed
shell path and around to a large, redwood-fenced patio. The path
ended in a long, narrow grotto, floored with more of the crushed
shells and fronting a green-tiled, L-shaped swimming pool with
clear, still water. Three tall eucalyptus tree grew beyond it,
just inside that section of fencing.
The grotto contained several brightly colored lounge chairs
and chaise longues and two white-metal tables with barber-striped
beach umbrellas shading them from center poles. At one of the
tables sat a tall, willowy woman with short jet black hair,
wearing a brilliant cobalt blue bandanna bikini. A frosted glass
identical to Cord's was clasped in one slim hand. She was as
bronzed as her husband, with a smooth taut stomach and fine high
breasts barely concealed in the narrow strip of her suit top; no
whiteness showed at all on the plentiful amount of bare bosom
which was exposed. The bottom section outlined the tight,
slightly protruding pubic mound, revealed her full rich thighs,
and then tucked into the crevice between her globular buttocks,
leaving the brown curve of her hips almost completely nude.
That's a rather scandalous outfit, Diane thought critically,
a little prudishly. It was certainly much more daring than her
own relatively skimpy two-piece paisley swimsuit, which was in the
large straw handbag she carried. Why, it shows ... well, almost
everything she has; it doesn't leave much of anything to the
imagination. Of course, this is her house and her pool and she
can dress however she chooses--but it hardly seems the most
conventional attire for receiving guests she's never previously
met.
The woman stood as they approached, smiling in a bold, easy
way. Cord went to her and put his arm about her waist, letting
his fingers splay familiarly on the satiny surface of her almost
naked hip. "Roger and Diane Slater," he said convivially, "This
is my wife, Cindy. The wildest little woman north of the Golden
Gate Bridge." He winked at her. "HELL, and south, east and west
of it, too!"
Cindy moved her body closer to his approvingly, rubbing her
bare flesh against him like a purring cat. Then she stepped
forward and took Diane's hand, coolly, briefly. "Nice to meet
you, Mrs. Slater," she said in a throaty tenor.
"It's a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Cord."
Cindy pivoted her body to Roger and took his hand. "Well,
well, so you're Roger Slater," she purred. "Marc's told me so
much about you."
Roger grinned. "All of it good, I hope."
"Very good," Cindy said. Her cool gray eyes appraised him in
an almost predatory way, and Diane saw that his eyes seemed to be
caressing her jutting breasts. They were still touching hands.
Roger finally released the clasp, but as if with a great
reluctance.
"Well, Rog?" Cord asked. "Can I pick them, or can I pick
them?"
"You can certainly pick them!" Roger agreed ardently.
Diane felt uncomfortable. What was the matter with Roger?
she thought. He was acting like a school boy, looking at Cindy's
exposed bosom like that and holding onto her hand so long. Not
that she was any better! "Marc's told me so much about you!" and
standing there showing off her body like a common tramp...
She realized Marc Cord was speaking to her, and her eyes
flicked up to meet his. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cord," she said. "What
did you say?"
"Marc," he answered. "None of this 'Mr. Cord' stuff. Marc
and Cindy, Roger and Diane. Okay?"
"Okay."
"What I asked was, did you kids bring your suits? It's a
great day for swimming."
"And for drinking rum cocktails," Cindy added, still looking
at Roger.
"Sure," Cord said. "And for drinking rum cocktails."
"Well, yes, yes, we did," Diane told him. "Bring our suits,
I mean."
"Fine! I'll show you where to change. Cindy'll have a
couple of tall ones made for you when you come back. Won't you,
honey?"
"Certainly."
Cord, taking Cindy's hand, led Roger and Diane across the
width of the patio to where a redwood door was set into a covered
sun porch, flanked on both sides by long, bamboo-shaded windows.
There was a compact bar at one end of the porch inside, and a
large blue-and-gold tweed couch, and several comfortable-appearing
chairs. Cindy went immediately to the bar and began to blend rum
and Bacardi mix into a tall pitcher. Cord indicated an archway
leading into the interior of the house proper, to where a closed
door was situated. "Dressing room's in there, kids."
Roger nodded. "Thanks, Marc." And then to Diane, "Come on,
honey."
She followed him into the dressing room. When he had shut
the door, she took his swimsuit, rolled in a towel, from her purse
and handed it to him. Then, she went primly into the partitioned
cubicle at one end to change. She saw him scowl darkly as she
did--he obviously didn't approve of her modesty--but she certainly
wasn't about to strip naked in front of him after last night;
especially not when he, too, would be nude. She simply couldn't
bare to look at that impossibly huge member of his again, even in
a state of flaccidity.
She undressed, folding her summer dress and underthings
carefully, and slipped into the paisley two-piece. It fit her
snugly, accentuating the firm, generous hills and valleys of her
alabaster body. Looking down at her planed stomach and her
tapering thighs and calves, she felt a painful vulnerability--as
if she were somehow like the almost assuredly wanton Mrs. Cindy
Cord. But she forced that consideration from her mind, and
stepped out of the cubicle. Even if she wasn't having a good
time, she had to pretend that she was enjoying herself; and she
couldn't do that if she was constantly worrying about her
partially undraped body.
Roger looked at her with critical approbation but said
nothing. She allowed him to take her arm, and they went out to
the sun porch again. Cord and his wife were sitting side by side
on the tweed couch; two frosted tumblers filled with chipped ice
sat next to the now-full pitcher on a woven rattan table in front
of them.
Cord stood up and favored Diane with a profligate smile as
his eyes traveled the width and breadth of her creamy body. He
emitted a long, low, appreciative whistle. "Well, now, aren't you
something, Diane!"
She blushed under his frank examination. "T-thank you," she
said in a faltering tone, lowering her eyes.
"You've got a beautiful, desirable woman there, Rog," Cord
said. "You're a lucky man."
"Yes, a lucky man," Roger answered, but there was an
undeniable note of bitterness in his voice that was painfully
apparent to Diane.
"Let's have a drink," Cindy said, rising from the couch. She
poured the two tumblers full of the pale, golden rum concoction.
"Good idea," Cord agreed earnestly. He picked up the full
glasses and handed one to Roger and one to Diane. "Drink hearty,
kids. There's plenty more where these came from."
Diane tasted hers responsively. The liquid was tart, without
much alcohol taste at all, and really very refreshing; she didn't
care for liquor much, and she was glad she wouldn't have to
pretend to like the drinks, that she could compliment her host and
hostess on them genuinely. She noticed that Roger had taken a
long swallow from his glass, and was licking his lips. "Very
good!" he said enthusiastically, beaming at Cindy.
"Thank you sir," she replied, dimpling prettily.
Cord suggested then that they all go out near the pool.
Cindy carried the pitcher of rum cocktails, and they took up
residence at one of the white metal tables. The men began to talk
business, discussing things like Roger's proposed new duties and
advancement possibilities, and the women were soon completely
ignored. Diane felt ill at ease, and at first Cindy made little
effort to alter her discomfort; Diane noticed that Mrs. Cord's
eyes periodically flashed to Roger, as if she were fascinated by
him somehow.
Having nothing better to do, Diane finished her drink. Cord
interrupted his conversation with Roger to pour her glass full and
wink at her. Dutifully, in an effort to salvage something of the
afternoon for herself, Diane promptly drank that second drink down
immediately--only to have Cord refill the glass once more. The
rum began to take its toll, and she experienced at first a general
physical loosening of her body; the tenseness left her, and she
felt completely relaxed. Then some of her mental cautiousness
began to disappear, and, surprisingly, she found herself beginning
a conversation with Cindy, telling her how much she liked the
house and surroundings. A rapport seemed to build between the two
women, and soon they were discussing the latest fashions and what
it would be like to take a round-the-world cruise.
Diane finished her third drink, and Cord quickly refilled her
glass. She giggled, looking at Roger as she thanked Marc for his
graciousness. Her husband's face was slightly flushed, and he was
grinning crookedly. She realized that he, too, had had quite a
few of the rum drinks. But she didn't care, not at all; she was
beginning to enjoy herself now. She felt giddy and light headed,
almost carefree. She was glad they'd come. Cindy wasn't half as
bad as she had first thought, and Marc Cord was a very nice, very
handsome, very urbane man whom she found herself liking more and
more.
Roger wiped a hand across his perspiring forehead. "Whew,"
he said, "is it getting hotter, or is it just me?"
Cord grinned. "A little of both. Why don't you go for a
swim, Rog?"
"Good idea. I think I will." He looked at Diane. "Want to
come in with me?"
She shook her head, nuzzling her full glass. "Not just now,"
she answered. She really didn't care that much for the water, and
besides, she was too relaxed--almost euphoric--sitting where she
was.
"Why don't you join Rog, Honey?" Cord suggested to Cindy.
"You look a little warm yourself."
"Hot would be a better word," Cindy said with an inference
that escaped Roger, and certainly eluded Diane. She stood up,
running her hands provocatively down her smooth, bronzed sides.
"Shall we, Roger?"
"After you, fair lady," Roger said gallantly, slurring the
words a little.
Cindy trotted over to the edge of the pool and made a
shallow, graceful dive into the long end of the L. She surfaced,
tossing her wet black hair like a silky, curvaceous jungle cat.
"Come on!" she urged Roger, who had padded up to the pool edge and
was testing the temperature with one foot. "The water's fine!"
She splashed a handful up at him, laughing; he pulled back,
grinned lopsidedly, and then surged forward in an awkward,
inelegant belly flop. Cindy howled convulsively and splashed him
again as he broke surface, spitting water.
She swam expertly over to him and he could feel her body
almost touching him as she treaded water. Goddamn, she was a
fine, choice piece! I'll bet she's not cold and frigid in bed, he
thought. I'll bet she's one hell of a fuck, all right. Cord
wouldn't have a cold fish for a wife, not him; he'd have a hot,
cock-sucking, wild-fucking woman, that's what he'd have and by
God, that's almost surely what he's got!
Roger felt a tingling sensation at the base of his cock as
desire coursed through him feverishly. He wanted to reach out to
Cindy, to grab her, to .... Oh Christ, calm down, will you,
Slater? That's your new boss's wife you're thinking about like
that! Ease off. Yeah, and ease off on the booze, too. The last
thing you need now is a repeat performance of last night; that
would really foul things up beautifully, wouldn't it?
Cindy said, "Come on, Roger, I'll race you around to the
shallow end."
"Okay," he answered automatically. Well, there was no harm
in that, was there?
"Let's go!"
They set off. Cindy was a good swimmer and won the race
easily. She was waiting for him, hands on her hips, as he reached
her. Delighted, girlish laughter bubbled from her lips as he
struggled through the water, pummeling it almost to a froth with
awkward slapping strokes. He gained his feet, only to have Cindy
put both of her slim hands on top of his head and duck him under.
He reached out involuntarily as he was thrust beneath the surface
to grab hold of her slim, firm waist and pull her off her feet.
She gasped, flailing out for a moment, and then she too slid
beneath.
The water at this shorter section of the L was only some four
feet deep, and the formation of the pool hid their bodies
partially from view of the grotto. As they thrashed about beneath
the water, Roger felt Cindy's hand come in electric contact with
his thigh, brushing along it only inches from his crotch. It
seemed to linger there for a moment, and then move away. The
surge of desire shot through him again, and he had to repress an
urge to grasp the firm swelling mounds of her tits and ass as they
cavorted. Her touch on his thigh had been an accident, of course
... or had it?
They bobbed up, in water a little deeper so that their heads
were almost the only parts of their anatomies visible as they
stood on the pool bottom. Cindy was nearly as tall as he, and her
eyes were on a level with his. She stood very close to him, her
breasts almost touching his chest, her lips parted moistly with
the tip of her pink, wet tongue showing.
"Are you having a good time, Roger?" she half whispered.
"Yes," he answered. His voice sounded strangely hoarse.
"Yes, I'm having a fine time, Cindy."
"I'm glad. I want you to enjoy yourself."
The inside of Roger's mouth was dry. He wished she wouldn't
stand so close to him, so close that he could smell the woman odor
of her. Jesus, he had half a hard-on already at the touch of her
hand...
"Let's play some more!" Cindy said suddenly, grabbing him and
pushing him off balance. Again, they both ducked under. Roger
twisted his body, feeling her surge against him, and then ... and
then her fingers brushed over the front of his suit, tracing the
outline of his cock. They lingered there, massaging gently,
gently, caressing with an almost maddening slowness that sent
wild, burning ripples of passion flooding through his belly and
brought his prick leaping into instant erection...
Roger's mouth opened in a reflexive gasp, and pool water
poured into his throat, gagging him. He coughed spasmodically,
fighting his way to the surface, spitting and hacking. Cindy came
up with him, standing very close to him now, the hot firebrands of
her near-naked breasts touching his chest. "Did you like that,
honey?" she breathed.
"L-like what?" he managed confusedly.
"Oh come on now," Cindy purred. "You know what I mean."
"No, n-no, I..."
"This," she said, and suddenly her hand was on his hardening
penis again, stroking it lightly beneath the water. She chuckled
huskily. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Roger honey.
Pretending you didn't know what I meant when I just made that
lovely cock of yours as hard as granite. You really do have a big
one, too. I was hoping you would."
Roger's brain reeled. He couldn't believe this was
happening! Cord's wife ... playing with his prick ... saying
words which could only mean one thing, that she wanted him to fuck
her ... Jesus, her fingers on him were like broiling hot irons,
inflaming his loins until lust consumed his very being...
His eyes flew guiltily toward the grotto, where Diane and
Cord were still sitting at the white metal table. They weren't
looking this way now, but if Marc should see what was going on...
There was no telling what he would do! Surely, he would never
give him, Roger, that promotion; he might even become violent...
Cindy's nimble, burning fingers continued to caress his rigid
shaft, sliding down to oscillate back and forth across his
swelling balls as she ground her soft tits against his chest. Her
lips were parted, and she kept running her wet, hot tongue back
and forth across them; her breath was fervid and sweet and ragged
in his face, her eyes lidded with her own sensual appetites.
Roger knew he should pull back away from her, end this
impossible scene before it reached the point of no return--but the
salacious pleasure of her expert ministrations rendered him
frozen, incapable of motion. What's the matter with her? he
thought wildly. She must be crazy! Some kind of nymphomaniac!
Playing with a man's cock less than a hundred feet from her
husband, a man she's only just met...
"I'm going to take it out now," Cindy panted into his face.
"I want to hold your big thing in my hand, honey."
"Jesus Christ, Cindy--" he wheezed.
"It's all right, honey, don't worry."
"What about Marc? What about my wife...?"
"They can't see us from where they are," Cindy moaned. "Just
relax, honey, relax and enjoy it."
Dexterously, her fingers slid upward to pull back the
waistband of his trunks, back and down until his blood-raged
member burst out and into the warm palm of her hand. She held it
claspingly for a moment, making little animal sounds of abandoned
joy deep in her throat, and then she began to stroke it gently,
pushing the foreskin back, running her fingernails along the base
of his cock, along the bloated sac of his balls. Roger felt the
exquisite thrill of her manipulations bursting through his body,
and suddenly he didn't care any more; he didn't care if Cord saw
them, or if Diane saw them, or if the whole goddamned world saw
them. The only thing that mattered was Cindy, luscious,
beautiful, desirable Cindy with her hand playing with his genitals
under the water...
"Slide your trunks down all the way, honey," Cindy breathed.
"Hurry!"
He obeyed mindlessly, pulling them down as fast as he could.
She cupped his balls in her hand now, rubbing them back and forth,
squeezing them very gently, making the cum build hot and explosive
in his scrotum. He looked down at her hand through the wavy
translucence of the water, watching her, reveling in the searing
sensations of lewd enchantment. Suddenly, he saw her tug at the
bottom of her own suit, pushing it down to expose the dark black
silky triangle of her pubic mound, down over her bronzed thighs.
And then she was moving forward, guiding him toward the edge of
pool with her hand on his cock, turning so that her back was
pressed against the tile lip.
"Do you want to fuck me, Roger, honey?" she whispered against
his ear. "Do you want to put your cock in my cunt?"
"Yes!" he moaned. "Yes, yes!"
"All right, baby, all right."
She leaned back against the tile, bracing her body against
it, bringing her legs up through the water and spreading them to
encircle his waist. Then she steered his cock to her until he felt
the swollen head touch the pubic hair and soft butter-like lips of
her cunt. She moved the head up and down along her pink slit,
undulating her hips in the water in a circular motion as she
locked her legs tighter about him.
"Do you want me to put it in now?" she teased.
"Yes, goddamn it, put it in, put it in!"
As if in obeyance, she thrust herself forward, skewering
herself on his gigantic rod, burying it almost to the hilt in the
warm, lubricious folds of her pussy. He gasped, and she gasped
simultaneously, her hips still rotating, her hands coming up to
grip him under the arms.
"Jesus Christ!" he said. "Oh Jesus Christ, Cindy!"
"Fuck me!" she hissed against his ear. "Roger honey, fuck
me, fuck me!"
He dropped his hands to the quivering, oscillating moons of
her buttocks, his fingers digging into the hot flesh. He began to
fuck into her with long, hard lunges that received a momentum from
the very depths of his toes. He felt an absolute power take hold
of him in that moment, and he kneaded her ass with sadistic
delectation. Harder and harder he drove his burgeoning shaft into
her cunt, feeling her skewered on him in total subjection. He
could feel the soft fleshy ridges deep inside her giving way
before the relentless onslaught of his rampaging masculinity.
"Ooooooohhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned against his ear, breathing
liquid fire into the orifice. "Aaaaaa gggggghhhhhh, that's it,
honey, that's ittttttttt!"
He strained his cock forward with all the strength of his
hips and thighs, reveling in the forbidden act of which he was a
part, deriving further sensations of lasciviousness from the
knowledge of the nearness of his wife and his future boss. Oh
God, oh Jesus, she was great, Cindy was beautiful, she was the
best fuck he had ever had...!
She was moaning softly, incoherently now, her smooth velvety
legs enveloping his waist in a death grip, her hips churning the
water around them. The satiny folds of her vagina held him,
squeezing tightly around his rigid column, milking it already of
its first tentative dribblings of seminal lubrication. He knew
she could feel every inch, every muscle and curve of his prick as
she screwed her buttocks up tight against his pelvis. The bloated
sac of his sperm-laden balls was pressed hard into the wet, wide-
stretched crevice below her vaginal lips, and the soft, hair-
covered skin danced maddeningly against the sensitive outer rings
of her tiny, working anus. Shivers of wanton delight made her
fuck him even harder, even more wildly.
There was nothing else in the world, the universe, for Roger
at that very moment. He didn't see Marc and Diane stand in unison
at the white metal table in the grotto, he didn't see her waver
unsteadily, he didn't see Cord take her arm with a sly backward
glance lead her toward the sun porch. Even if he had seen that,
he wouldn't have cared. The only thing that existed for Roger
Slater then was the boiling, surging flood of hot cum which was
only seconds away from eruption in his ballooned testicles.
"Ooooooohhhhhhhh yessssssss, fuck it hard, baby, fuck it
hard, fuck it hard, give it to meeeeeee!" Cindy wailed into his
ear, her hips like a separate entity now, an entity gone mad as
she twisted and contorted, opening her legs around his waist,
squeezing them closed, endeavoring to ingest even more of his
pistoning shaft into her belly.
Suddenly, she cried out, "Ohhhhh, God, baby, I'm ... almost
there, I'm ... yes, yessssss, yessssssssss, aaaaaagggggggghhhhhh!"
Her body heaved toward his as the first delicious throes of
her orgasm rocketed through her, spurring him on, locking him in.
In that moment, he felt his own cum boil over, explode along the
passage within his cock and burst from the widened opening in the
glans like a volcanic eruption, flooding her inner cunt walls, the
very core of her rapidly undulating belly, with surge after surge
of the fiery white semen. She was mewling with total surrender,
total lust-satiation, urging him incoherently never to stop
filling her cunt with his wonderful hot seeds...
Finally he collapsed forward against her, pushing her back
against the tiled edge of the pool. His prick began to deflate
then, and slid out of her, trailing long sinuous strands of his
cum like thin white sea kelp from her cunt. She stroked his face,
smothering it with hot moist kisses. "Oh Christ, Roger, baby!"
she breathed. "It was great, wasn't it? I just knew it would
be!"
"Yes ... yes, it was," Roger muttered. Half dazed by the
tumultuous fucking he had just given, and in turn received, his
eyes strayed dimly toward the grotto. For the first time, he saw
that it was empty. "Diane ...?" he began. "Where did she and
Marc ...?"
Cindy reached down to stroke his now flaccid prick gently.
"Don't worry about them, honey. They're inside the house, where
they can't see us."
Numbly, Roger nodded. It didn't occur to him in the
aftermath of his satiated flesh to inquire why his wife and Marc
Cord had gone into the house. Even now, the only thing that
seemed to matter was this wild, wanton woman he had just screwed.
Cindy said, "Come on, honey, let's get out of the pool and go
lie in the sun."
"What for?" he asked.
She laughed softly. "Because I think I can get you another
hard-on, that's why. You'd like to fuck again, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," he answered. "God, yes!"
"If you're a good boy," Cindy giggled, rubbing his deflated
penis lightly with the tips of her fingers, "I might even suck you
off. Would you like me to suck your big cock, Roger?"
He felt his limp prick give a convulsive leap at the sound of
her words, come half-erect again in her hand. She kissed him
passionately. "See?" she said. "I told you I could make it hard
again."
He heard himself say the words he was then thinking, "Oh
Christ, Cindy, I want to lick your cunt. I want to lick your cunt
while you suck my cock!"
Her hand tightened on him. "Then let's go!" she said, and,
still holding onto his genitals, she led him to the tile steps at
the shallow end of the pool.
Chapter 4
"The pitcher is empty, little girl," Marc Cord said, smiling
and lifting the heavy cut crystal decanter for her to see.
Diane, her mind fuzzy from the rum, stared at it. "And I was
almost ready for a refill." The sun sparkled off the glass,
making her wince. Her whole physical being seemed to satisfyingly
relax in the warm rays of the sun. She could have sat there
forever...
"Come on," Marc urged, standing up. "Keep me company while I
make some more."
She smiled up at him. He was really quite a man, she
thought. Pure, raw, male animal, and she was ... well, sort of
attracted to him. Not that she was going to do anything about it,
of course. She was married, and so was he. Hands off! Private
property! But that didn't stop her from helping him mix some more
rum cocktails, did it? Not at all!
"Love to," she replied. She rose unsteadily, and Marc took
her arm. She accepted his assistance gratefully; with all the
liquor she'd drunk and the soporific effect of the sun, she
doubted she could make it to the door without it.
She giggled and took her empty glass as they walked to the
sun porch. Marc opened the door and waited for her to enter. He
led her to the tweed couch, and, in spite of her apprehension, she
sat down and clasped her hands in her lap. He continued to talk
of generalities as he crossed to the bar and opened the small
refrigerator for more ice. Diane leaned back on the cushions, her
mind drifting, hazy from the alcohol, and let his warm voice flow
through her. She enjoyed the way he talked. He was so pleasant,
almost like a brother rather than the ruthless ogre her husband
had made him seem like. Well, Roger was wrong: Marc was not all
that dangerous, all that terrible.
She leaned forward and for the first time noticed the hard-
cover portfolio on the rattan table in front of her. The jacket
had the gold embossed title: "Studies of Love". She touched the
cover, afraid and yet a little curious as to what it might
contain; but her inquisitiveness finally won out. She raised the
cover and gazed at the first picture.
It was in full color, obviously taken by a skilled
photographer. It depicted two people making love, their faces
contorted in rapture. Diane gasped in sudden embarrassment and
looked quickly over at Cord, who was still blandly mixing the new
pitcher of rum cocktails and talking about the weather they had in
Marin County, evidently oblivious to her knowledge of the
portfolio.
Hypnotized by the carnal activity in the photo, Diane studied
the photo, for she had never seen a picture of two people making
love before, and it looked strange to her. She wondered if this
was the way she and Roger looked, with the almost crab-like
splaying of arms and legs. Then she turned to the next one, which
was of a man having his penis sucked by a beautiful blonde woman.
She thought of the night before, of her with Roger's member in her
mouth; but the differences were obvious. The woman in the picture
was enjoying it, her mouth stretched wide and her lips locked
around it in an oval as though they would never release their
prize. A ripple of secret desire coursed through Diane as she
looked at the man's hardened penis, for it was even larger than
Roger's, and she wondered how the woman could take it all without
choking. She clenched her thighs together at the idea of having
such a monster even between her legs, then quickly turned to the
third photo. Just as explicitly this one showed the woman flat on
her back on the floor, her knees drawn up to her breasts. The man
was kneeling between her thighs, his tongue parting her pubic hair
and curling in the wide pink slit of her vagina. Diane gaped at
the obscene sight, and a small gasp of shock escaped her lips.
"You like them, Diane?" came a smiling voice which made her
jump, and a hand appeared with a fresh drink for her.
"Well ... well, no I don't. Not really." She took the drink
from Marc and a quick swallow in a vain attempt to hide the fact
that she was blushing. She looked at Cord, thought, and saw that
there was an amused expression on his face.
"Don't be so sure, Diane. Even I enjoy looking at such
things occasionally."
"You don't mean that you ... approve of what those people are
doing, do you?" she blurted incredulously. "They're like ...
animals!"
"Who can tell what should or shouldn't be done in passion?
It's a very strong emotion. Everybody needs passion to make
themselves happy, don't they? To make the person they love
happy?"
"Of course," she agreed. "But doing ... doing such perverted
acts can't be a part of that happiness."
"No? Well, I think the couple in the photos made each other
happy."
Diane felt confused. She knew she shouldn't have had that
last drink, and even though she felt that she was right, she
wasn't in any condition to be arguing morality--or anything else.
She blinked heavily trying to clear her mind of blurred thoughts,
thoughts of the previous night and her unwilling initiation into
sexual deviations. Roger had always seemed satisfied with her, at
least most of the time, but she did have to admit she was
unknowledgeable about certain things. Did it really take such
acts to hold a man? No, of course not. How could she consider
such a perverted idea? It was evil just to think of things like
that, much besides lower oneself to perform them. Or ... was it?
For the first time in her life, Diane seriously began to question
her frozen values, wondering if she really didn't know what a man
wanted or needed physically. She tipped the glass again, her
throat parched from embarrassment and nervousness.
"You're really going at that rum," Cord said.
"Mmmmm," she replied. "These are good." Despite the heavy
commitment she had toward her inbred code of morals, Diane began
to feel faint stirrings of arousal once again churn her body.
Moisture seeped between her legs, and she pressed her thighs
tightly together and moved her buttocks against the rear of the
sofa in a vain attempt to quiet the lascivious tingling. "I ... I
think maybe we'd better go back outside, Marc. Perhaps Roger and
Cindy are waiting for us."
"Oh, I doubt that," Marc said, and Diane detected a sudden
change in his voice. "I saw them as I was making the drinks."
She frowned. "What do you mean, together?"
Cord, his lips pursed and his forehead furrowed, walked
around from the back of the couch and sat down beside Diane. He
looked straight at her. "I mean we have a situation on our hands,
Diane," he said seriously, "One that isn't as academic as the
photos you were looking at." He dipped his eyes and peered into
his drink, then rotated the glass in his hand. "I don't know how
to put this, Diane, but--well, I've known for some time that Cindy
has been playing around, and..." He paused, shaking his head in
a mixture of pathos and anger. "Well, maybe you had better look
for yourself."
He took her hand and she rose, still confused as to what he
was talking about. He led her around the couch and over to the
bamboo-blinded window and drew aside the curtain.
"Look," he said. "Over there, by the shallow end of the
pool."
Diane took one quick glance, and suddenly she felt as if she
would scream. Instead, she raised the glass to her lips in
convulsive horror and swallowed heavily, thirstily, not tasting
the liquid at all. "Oh no ... no!" she gasped as she lowered the
almost empty glass. "Oh ... my God, I don't believe it! No, no,
no!"
What she had seen was Cindy lying spread-eagle on a large,
fluffy towel, completely nude, rolling her head in contorted
ecstasy and Roger, kneeling between her naked legs, running his
tongue moistly up and down her bronzed body. He paused to suck her
nipples to hardened points, and then traced a wet hot path down to
the flat plane of her stomach and inner thighs. Cindy's hands
were tangled in his hair, her expression that of a woman
possessed.
Diane leaned against the window sill, unable to move. "I ...
I don't believe it!" she gasped again.
Cord snorted slightly and folded his arms across his broad
chest. "Good God, Diane, it's plain to see! They're making
love."
Diane tried to blot out the horrid scene in front of her.
Dear God! There had to be a reason, a logical explanation! How
how could her husband, her Roger, be ... be...
Cindy was at fever pitch. Her mouth hung open with ecstatic
rapture and her glassy eyes stared at nothing but her own inner
lust. Roger positioned himself with his mouth over her pubic
mound, his fingers splayed on her belly and his thumbs on the
outer lips of her vagina. Diane sucked in her breath as she
watched Roger part the soft patch of pubic hair and expose the
other woman's moist red slit, then drop his head over Cindy's
desire-writhing cunt. Cindy's body jerked as if struck by
lightning, and her thighs clamped over Roger's ears in a vise-like
grip, her hips beginning to move with the rhythm of his slavering
tongue.
Diane was completely absorbed in the horrible lewdness being
performed before her eyes. She gaped in disbelief, but her own
body began to involuntarily sway in time to that of Cindy's
undulations as her husband continued the nerve-shattering licking
of the woman's widespread vaginal slit. Then Diane realized that
Marc was speaking again. She wrenched her mind back to where she
was, asked: "What? What did you say?"
"I said that I'm going to mix another drink, Diane. We could
both use another." He took her glass.
Almost mesmerically, Diane's eyes returned to the fantastic
sight in front of her. All she cared about, all she saw in her
mind, were the two naked writhing bodies on the towel.
Roger's fat stump of a cock had protruded into view, now. It
was enormously thick, and for a sudden, crazy second Diane
wondered how she had ever taken him all, and then she was further
transfixed by the thought that she was now going to see her
husband making love to another woman.
But Roger worked his way up Cindy's sweat-soaked body and
straddled her breasts. Diane could see his penis standing out
from his belly, its scarlet head but a few inches from Cindy's
gasping opened mouth. Roger reached back with one hand and moved
his middle finger down the already wet pink folds of her wide
stretched pussy, then plunged his finger to the third knuckle into
the waiting, lust-quivering hole. He rotated it around, pumping
in mock copulation, and Cindy squirmed and pushed against the
exquisite digital torture. She flicked her tongue out and rubbed
it along the underside of Roger's swollen shaft, then encircled
the head, bathing it, kissing the dilated opening. She strained
forward, her neck muscles clearly visible and closed her lips like
an elastic band around Roger's turgid cock. She took it deep, and
Roger leaned forward and began a rocking motion, a grin of animal
passion wide across his face.
He's too big! Diane thought, fascinated with horror as
Cindy's convoluted lips sucked as though she had waited forever
for that magic moment. Her cheeks hollowed on the out-stroke and
filled on the in-stroke with a puckered hunger whose very
lustiness made Diane cringe. God! He's going to make her suck
him until he ... he cums! He's going to flood his hot sticky sperm
until he drowns her in it! He's going to ... to drown her!
Cord appeared, standing close to her, so close that his
trunks touched the backs of her naked thighs. The touch was
electrifying to her and she whirled suddenly to him, wide eyed,
charged with a combination of licentiousness and loathing. "What
... what ...?" she began haltingly, afraid to look into Marc's
eyes but accepting automatically the fresh drink he offered her.
"What do you think we should do, Diane?" Cord asked calmly.
"The man out there is your husband, remember, and he's on top of
my wife and she's sucking the living hell out of him."
"You don't have to be so ... so graphic!"
"At a time like this, you're worried about that? Don't you
care what's happening out there?"
"Of course I do! It makes me sick!" she shot back at him
thickly.
"Then ... don't you think there ought to be reprisals?"
Diane stared at him. She searched his eyes and saw an almost
lecherous response. "I--I don't understand."
"Simple. An eye for an eye." Marc licked his lips. "A wife
for a wife."
Diane felt her stomach lurch and a clamminess crept across
her body. She stiffened. Marc continued to look at her, a smile
creeping across his handsome features. "Does that idea sicken you
so much?"
Diane's brain whirled. "Two wrongs don't make a ... a right.
Who do you think I am, making a proposition like that? A whore?"
Marc placed his hand on her bare stomach. Diane couldn't deny
in her liquor-numbed mind that his touch sent a thrill through
her, already being aroused from the obscene display on the patio,
but that didn't change the fact that she was married, nor that her
entire upbringing had prepared her to be repulsed by this ... this
filth!
"Stop, Marc!" she moaned, pulling back from his hand.
"Please, stop it!" She turned her head from his gaze, but in so
doing her eyes once more feasted upon the carnally locked couple
on the towel.
Roger jerked his cock suddenly from Cindy's mouth and he
moved downward again, then slightly to one side, his hands racing
over the firm, but yielding bronzed flesh. He pulled her legs
wide and parted the petal-like lips of her cunt, and then crawled
between them. Cindy reached between their legs and grasped the
blunt, fiery pole of his penis and with a twisted look of passion,
sunk his cock deep into her dark, waiting hole of lust. Her whole
body twitched and leapt with abandon as their bellies smacked
together and Roger cupped the trembling moons of her ass and
strained to push his cock further in.
Diane stood motionless as her husband began the slow grinding
of each long stroke, and for some reason instead of the utter
revulsion she expected to feel, there was a peculiar twittering
quiver deep between her thighs. She closed her eyes and pressed
back against Marc's chest, but still the vision of Roger's
gleaming cock, moist the full length from Cindy's lips, raced
through her mind.
Suddenly, Cord's hand snaked around her, and she felt her
right breast slowly being massaged through the flimsy material of
her bikini top. She was momentarily powerless to stop it. Then
the suit was raised and her full, slightly quivering breast was
free, its nipple hard against the sudden rush of air. Diane
uttered a moan as Marc's thumb worked the rigid bud, and pleasure
shot the full length of her body.
"He's fucking my wife," Cord whispered provocatively into her
ear. "Did you see him?"
"Yes, oh yes," Diane mumbled back in a daze, the lewd word
strangely exciting to her.
Marc continued to play with her exposed tit, grinding his
pelvis tightly into hers. He slid his other hand down around the
soft roundness of her buttocks. Her body stiffened in panicked
realization of what was happening.
"Oh, no, Marc, we can't ... we can't do this!"
"Why not? Your husband's fucking my wife isn't he?"
"Oh no, please don't do this to me!" she pleaded, her eyes
tearing with the salt of anguish.
Cord lowered his head and completely engulfed her soft lips
with his, and his tongue darted out to slip between her teeth. An
uncontrollable tremor surged through her, her mouth opening to the
pillage of his onslaught, her entire being relaxing against him.
He held her closer, his big hands hot and moving as they pressed
the spheres of her smooth, firm buttocks to his now bulging
trunks, forcing her groin to grind against his swelling cock.
"Stop, Marc!" Diane mewled, "Oh no ... no ... no!" She
squirmed away from his grip. "I don't know what we can do about
... about that ... outside, but it can't be this! I'm not some
... some slut you can ... can take at will."
"I know you're not, Diane," Cord breathed into her ear as he
closed in again, his hand returning to her waist as he drew her to
him with powerful arms once more. "But I plan to repay your
husband's generosity in the best way possible."
His hands began to fondle the tight, cloth-encased cheeks of
Diane's buttocks. Momentarily she struggled, but then she
realized the total futility of the situation. She couldn't
scream, couldn't run... He kissed her hotly, and his right hand
came up from her hips and massively closed over her still exposed
right breast, absorbing its cool, full flesh as though she were a
budding child.
"Oh ... oh ... oh ...!" she cried, suddenly alive with livid
sensations. His hands, his tongue, his whole enveloping body
began to enflame her, and she gasped from the wantonness and
craving which was rapidly overtaking her. Marc's hand traveled
teasingly over her whole body, touching her breast, her stomach,
her thigh ... her inner thigh ... then the narrow secretion band
of her suit bottom. Yes! Yes! Oh God, his fingers felt good;
They were so soft and warm and agonizingly close!
A low purring of arousal escaped from her lips, and she
breathed heavily, the blood hotly coursing through her veins.
Cord smiled down at her, and then began to lead her gently away
from the window and back to the couch. "'Yes, baby, yes," he
crooned. "We're going to really make it."
Gently, he pushed her down on her back on the couch, and she
rubbed her legs along the cushions, undulating her thighs from the
building passion. She raised her arms to Marc in almost drugged
supplication, and he in turn kneeled beside her. His searing mouth
and tongue pressed hard against her pliant, now-willing lips. His
hands continued to play along her skin, slipping up and down her
inner thigh, brushing against the burning, vibrant mound of her
soft, young pussy.
"Oh, Marc ... oh Marc, please don't ... ohhhhhhh!" she
moaned. His fingers slipped up inside the narrow leg band of her
bathing suit, and she cringed at the devilish touch. Her mind
tried to preserve the vestiges of her principles, her concepts of
morality, even as her body betrayed her with prurient desire.
Then Cord, unheeding her final, weakened pleas of mercy,
fingered the rich valley of her cunt, stroking the hair-covered
ridges and burrowing deep to slide around the already blood-
engorged clitoris. She involuntarily raised her hips, rotating
her sex-hungered thighs in helpful deliberation, spreading her
legs so he could wander between her thighs at will. Her arms were
wrapped around his neck tightly and she whimpered into his ear.
trailing hot, moist kisses across his face while slowly, surely,
he insinuated his teasing fingers into the moist folds of her
warm, slavering vaginal orifice.
Oh ... God ... this ... this is wrong ... all wrong! her
brain screamed to her, but caught in the emotional agony of
sensual desire, she could only groan and bite her lip. Cord
parted the sensitive slit of her cunt and teased the soft,
surrounding pubic hair as he made sudden, ecstatic contact with
her throbbing clitoris. Diane sensed her own deep wetness from
her unwanted passion and the electrifying shock of his caresses.
He began to remove her suit pants, to edge them down over her
full, well shaped thighs and hips, to worm insidiously the last
defense from her deliriously pulsating pussy. Abruptly, the cool
air upon the pubic hair of her groin triggered the last defiant
rejection of his maddening probe.
"Stop it! Stop it!" she cried, thrusting her hands against
his heavy chest and writhing and kicking, trying to push him away.
"Oh, for God's sake, get off me! Let me up!"
"Goddamn it!" Marc pressed tighter, refusing to remove his
middle finger and continuing the outrageous rampage of her tender,
sensorial cunt. "It's too late for us to stop, baby. I've tried
to be patient with you, to make it nice and enjoyable, but one way
or the other I'm going to do just what I said. I'm going to fuck
you, baby." He leered hotly down at her, eyes flashing with the
uncontrollable lust of sexual frenzy. "Your husband's out there
fucking my wife, and if you don't cooperate in return, baby, I'll
fire him on the spot. Understand? You and I get together, and
Roger will get his promotion, but if you don't..."
His threat was clear to Diane in spite of her confused,
liquor-dazed mind. She realized that she was in a horrible mess,
with no way out. There was nothing she could do, nothing ... oh
Roger, Roger, what shall I do? Tears of humiliation and
debasement showered down her face, and with sudden revulsion she
realized that in her helplessness her hips were once more grinding
up in response to the tantalizing play of Marc's maddening finger
reinserted inside her vagina. Her lower torso reacted
uncontrollably to his ministrations in a cadence with her
quivering clitoris and wet, writhing vaginal slit.
"Make up your mind!" he said suddenly. "What's it going to
be?"
Her reply caught in her throat. If she cooperated, he could
take any indecent and licentious liberties with her she
rationalized ... but at least Roger would have his position
secured. And then ... maybe after some time had passed, she could
repair the damage of their lives and this would be forgotten in
the passages of their future happiness. But dear God, if Marc
should fire him as he promised ... well, she hated to think what
that would do to Roger, to the two of them, to whatever they might
have left. "Oh ... oh ... yes, yes I'll do it!" she hissed
between clenched teeth, her body surrendering completely.
Cord smiled triumphantly to himself and moved his bronzed
body farther over her, and kissed her hotly, his giant tongue
slipping deeply inside her mouth as his hand caressed her now wide
open loins. Diane moaned beneath him, fighting vainly to maintain
control of her body as the electrifying jolts of his massaging
fingers began to seethe through her very essence. She felt him
raise her up and unclip the brassiere snap, and closing her eyes
she hunched her shoulders in automatic assistance. And then he
removed the bathing suit halter and lowered it to the floor. Her
throbbing alabaster breasts with their distended nipples were
completely exposed and with an appreciative gasp, Marc rolled his
hands over them, kneading and squeezing the nipples between his
fingers and thumbs. Then his slavering lips encompassed one
aureole, his tongue flicking and rolling the jewel-hard nipple
maddeningly.
"I'm going to make you naked all the way now, baby," he said
throatily. "Help me."
Diane clenched her eyes tightly shut in lewd surrender and
raised her hips, and strained her back as he slid the last sheath
of suit down over her writhing buttocks. It was suddenly as if
bonds had been dropped from her body, for the feeling of being
totally naked before the hungry eyes of a strange man was both
deliciously decadent and wonderfully evil. Unconsciously she
flexed her warm, damp pussy toward the cool air, and her pubic
hair almost stretched from its imprisonment inside the suit. She
played her hands down her sides with abandonment, mewling and
sighing with abject licentiousness. She spread her ivory columned
legs and tightened her stomach muscles, her eyes still mercifully
shut to her shameless actions.
Oh Roger ... oh Roger ... can you ever forgive me... And
then came the flashing realization that she had nothing to
apologize for to Roger, not as long as he was ... was fucking ....
that word! but yes, it was fucking she meant ... fucking that
woman outside. She opened her eyes and stared at the man above
her, then widened them still further as she realized he had
removed his own bathing suit. He was standing over her, a
salacious grin twisting his features, his hand stroking the heavy,
uncircumcised foreskin of his corpulent, blood-pumped penis back
and forth over the hard, bulbous head. Good God! No woman could
take all that! It would rip her insides open!
"Roger this big, baby?" Marc taunted, his eyes cruelly
gleaming. "Well, you just wait until it's all stuffed up in your
belly and then compare!"
She couldn't stop staring at his obese cock, and at the sight
of her own naked body helpless beneath it. She was filled with
shame, and it further dawned on her that her husband's boss was
actually enjoying this torture, was reveling in this cruel
debauchery of her soul.
"We'll teach that damned husband of yours to fuck my wife,"
he continued, tormenting her further, watching the twisted
contortion of her fear-ridden features. Again, Diane felt the hot
tears dribble from her eyes, and she knew that Marc would brook no
mercy. She hardly heard his filthy words, her mind too occupied
with the hopelessness of her situation and the horrifying distress
of knowing Marc was as wanton as her husband. Dear Lord, there was
nowhere to turn for help, nowhere to save herself from the
ravishment which awaited her! She was alone. How could she have
ever thought of this man as a brother, as someone safe?
Yet even as she groveled in the acute sense of terror, the
slight traces of desire began to amplify through her momentarily
dormant senses. She rose to meet his body as he dropped on top of
her, the hardness of his thick, pulsating penis gouging her soft
flesh of her belly, his huge hands once more prowling over her
full, erect breasts. She whined from the combination of desire
and pain, and then their lips closed upon one another, their
tongues twisting and stabbing deep into their respective mouths
with mounting lust.
"You're going to beg me for it when I'm through," Marc
promised. "You're going to cry with ecstasy, baby, so help me!"
He moved down her undulating body with wild, licking strokes
of his tongue, until his head was just above her defenselessly
spread thighs.
"Oh, no, Marc ... not that, please not that!"
The remembrance of the night before and Roger's drunken
kisses upon her unprotected vagina returned to Diane with vivid
clarity. She clenched her small fists together, her arms tight
against her ribs and tried to close her legs from Cord's assault.
Her vibrant, naked flesh crawled with the idea of the impending
perversion, but the palms of his hands were already against the
inner flesh of her thighs and were spreading them apart ever
further. She raised her head as Marc gazed hungrily down at the
warm pink slit fringed so delicately with its soft, golden pussy
hair ... Diane whimpered. She, too, could see how her body
betrayed her, for her coral flesh was tinged with tiny, glistening
droplets of desire, and the glistening, petal-like lips of her
cunt almost cried out to the leering face of the lust-inflamed man
above. She watched petrified as slowly, deliberately, Marc spread
her secret shame-filled vagina with his thumbs and dropped his
lips to kiss the enchanted area.
"Ooooooohhhh, Marc, ooooooo!" she groaned, but the only
response from him was to snake his long, teasing tongue against
her defenseless genitals. Her body lurched against the bestial
outrage, her stomach churning in horror and humiliation as his
lapping tongue slithered around her open pussy lips. She begged
in her shame for him to stop his violent assault, yet he only
labored faster, his mouth and tongue making wet, obscene licking
sounds which filled the room with their lewd echoes of abandoned
carnal desire. And then again in horror, the unwanted sensations
of pleasure pervaded her body, and her quivering cunt dilated with
total surrender to his scurrilous defilement. His hands moved
back to her breasts and clenched them almost brutally, the apex of
his actions designed to collapse her young pride and morals. She
tried to pull her eyes from his wildly moving head and grasping
hands, but she only continued to stare as he sucked insanely at
her open vagina, the desperation of trying to keep the blissful
palpabilities from being acknowledged by every vein, muscle and
cord of her subjugated body.
Suddenly his tongue found her erect, pulsing clitoris, and he
explored it as she whined in agonized pleasure. He took the tiny
button between his teeth and nipped it, running the tip of his
tongue over it. Diane moved her head back and forth, flailing her
hair and cried out with animal ecstasy, gripping the edges of the
couch with straining hands. Cord opened the hungry vault of his
mouth and lowered his tongue to the heated, throbbing cavern of
her vagina; as he orally fucked her, he heard the gurgling and
mewling sounds from her lips. He swirled his tongue and surged it
in and out of her clasping cunt, then drew her legs up and slid
his arms underneath so that his shoulders were wedged between her
thighs. He clutched her tight, satiny buttocks with both hands
and shifted them closer to his questing lips.
She howled from the searing delight which rose from the
liquid depths of her pussy, and she reached desperately for him,
her hands fighting to rid herself of the thrusting, pulsating
tongue sunk so deep between her legs. Then they suddenly dropped
their futile battle and tangled themselves wildly in his hair and
pulled his mouth still further into her.
She was his now! Marc Cord gloated to himself, relishing the
fact that this tender young morsel of a wife was his to play with,
to subjugate, use discard ... fuck ... however his mood struck
him. He dropped his mouth still lower and poked his tongue into
the tiny hole of her anus. The crude, forbidden act plunged Diane
into never before realized raptures, and the seething contact of
his lips to her asshole made her scream with erotic delight. She
closed her eyes and let herself become lost in the sensual
pleasure which surged through her love-starved nerves. She rolled
her hips and screwed her rectum onto his stiffened tongue, the
goose-flesh raising on her quaking belly and heaving breasts.
"Ohhhh, Marc, love me ... love me!" she heard herself plead,
her shame gone beneath the overpowering conquest of his lickings.
She had no control, but no longer wanted any, and there was no
longer any restraint in the furious spasms which had seized
control of her actions. The intense internal rapture that she had
never known before made her body cry out for fulfillment.
She had broken like a young mare to his will now, and Cord
could only congratulate himself on the success on his well-laid
plans. He continued to curl his tongue deep into the passages of
her cunt and anus, while she thrust herself up to his mashed face
and forced his head down into her silky hair-lined crotch. She
was past the point of no return, and he was damned if he was going
to let her escape his full benefit. Yes, Cindy had done her job
well, but there never had been a question of that. She loved to
fuck, and Roger Slater had the dumb good looks to arouse her
immediately. She was having her fill of the ambitious but
unimaginative Mr. Slater, and now, he, the injured husband, was
reaping his strategic rewards.
"You're going to get fucked now!" Cord moaned as his mouth
rested from her vagina. "God damn it, I'm going to screw you like
you've never been screwed before!"
Diane cringed under his lewd phrases, but they excited her
still more. She whispered, "Yes ... yes ... yes!" in an abandoned
response, spreading her legs, dropping them from Marc's shoulders.
Then he crawled over and said hoarsely, "Take my cock, Diane, and
put it in your cunt."
She hesitated only for a moment, and then slipped her hand
between their quivering bodies and grasped his hard, triton-sized
prick in her right hand and guided it over her full fleshy cunt
lips. The rubbery head sent stinging responses through her as it
parted the soft sparse pubic hair and touched the ragged, saliva
drenched sides of her pussy. She held her breath, for he was
directly next to the tight, gently throbbing mouth of her vagina.
She felt the first pressure of his drive. "Ohhhh!" she breathed
in helpless protest, but the penis continued to worm forward and
cruelly stretch the elastic opening until she felt as though she
were splitting apart down between her thighs, just as she had
feared upon seeing his huge swollen penis a few moments ago.
Cord grinned with sheer raw lust. He glared down at the
helpless, innocent young wife spread-eagled under him, the head of
his prick disappearing into the soft tickling hair of her cunt.
He had to fuck her! He had to!
He fell forward in a sudden rush of passion, burying his cock
like a raging battleaxe to its hilt, smashing her tits to her
chest, sinking to her belly without mercy or thought of injury.
The soft ridges of her cunt enclosed his rampaging machine in soft
velvetness. He slowly stroked outward, then shoved back in,
making her gasp with pain.
"Like it?" he sneered in crazed tormentation.
"Ohhhhh, yes, oh yes!" she groaned, beginning to react.
There was no reason to deny the flames of carnality which seared
her body, for she was lost. Lost! Cord had taken everything that
was right and good from her, and she in turn had abandoned control
over herself. The abysmal thought of her total surrender sent
chills coursing along her spine and she twitched and writhed to
the slow rhythm of her husband's boss's penis skewering inside
her.
Cord slipped his hands down her sides and under the
undulating orbs of her ass, grasping one, then the other, reveling
in their flexing as he pressed his hands tightly to them. He
jerked her harder to his loins and felt her pulling her cunt
against his cock. She flowered open to receive still more,
insatiable now. He moved with long, smooth strokes that brought
his cock to the edge of her now hungrily snapping vagina on the
backthrust and then forward into her uplifted buttocks until he
could feel the harsh slap of his bludgeoning balls against her
tiny puckered anus. He thought of a further humiliation he could
subject upon Diane and began to run his fingertips along the sides
of her pussy, fondling the contracting lips, bringing still more
moanings of abandonment from her as her ever more insatiable
vagina worked to swallow his greedy cock.
The pain had long since vanished from her loins and her legs
jerked and quivered on either side of his impaling rod with
uncontrolled cadence. Diane slavered her tongue around her lips as
she mewled in pleasure, and her neck and thighs strained with the
intensity of emotion. There was nothing save the fantastically
delicious sensation of lying beneath this man and returning thrust
for thrust the wild fucking he was giving to her. Diane knew that
Marc smiled the smile of a man triumphant, but she did not care.
He quickened his charging thrusts, hot and deep, as she
thrashed beneath him. He could feel the power of her impending
cum. Her breasts heaved against the pressure of his chest and the
tiny diamond nipples dug deep into his bare chest, and her legs
jerked out wide and up on either side of his pounding body. The
plateau of her crotch was wide open to his pile-driver grindings,
and the untouched recesses of her womb pushed against his brutal
thrusts. He wanted her to remember this revolutionary turning
point in her life, and worked harder and faster to make it true.
Then, "Oh Christ ... Om my God, I'm cumming! Cumming!
Cuuuuummmmiiiinnnnggggg!" She shivered under him, her cunt
suddenly opening around him like a flood gate, voraciously gushing
wet, sticky fluid around his madly pistoning cock. She jerked
towards him several times, the lips of her vagina seething in a
desperate sucking attempt to milk his penis dry. Her breath came
ragged and choked, and he dove still deeper into her burning
channel of sensuality. Then the boiling spigot of his own juices
untapped to pour forth foaming jets of white, creamy sperm, and
the top of his cock shot the hot, scalding liquid far, up into her
soft, palpitating belly. Their frothing juices mingled into a
reservoir of mutual joy and passion which Diane had never before
in her life realized existed.
Her body, beaten and satiated, collapsed beneath Marc, her
legs suddenly limp, her heart near bursting from her chest.
Sanity seemed to return as the waves of sensuality receded, and
then the shame and humiliation came back. She remembered where
she was, and who was on top of her, whose thick penis was buried
in her still gently throbbing vagina. But the only thought which
burned through her was to leave this horrible, degrading place and
never return. Even though she had caught Roger making love to
Cindy, it still did not give her right to do what she had done.
Roger must never find out. Never!
Cord retracted his now deflated rod gently, and in agony, she
rolled over, covering her exposed vaginal slit from his view with
her thighs. She tried to blot out the closeness of him by
throwing an arm over her eyes. It was enough to have been so weak
and to have allowed Marc the unrestrained use of her body, but now
his crudely deposited semen seeped from her cunt and began to
trickle down her inner thighs, hot and sticky, making Diane
whimper from further indignity.
"That was great, baby!" Cord said with an unmistakably
victorious smile on his lips.
"Yes," she replied coldly. "Now let me up."
Cord smiled at her and slid off and stood up, retrieving his
bathing suit. His limp prick hung dormant, the thick veneer of
their cum juices coagulating around its wrinkled skin. Diane
reached for her bra and bathing suit pants, pushing his offered
hand away. She couldn't stand the touch of him. Not now, not
after the terrible, debasing debacle she had just been subjected
to. But in spite of herself, she watched how easily and naturally
Marc stood before her, and she gazed hypnotically at the thick
thatch around his groin as he eased his trunks up his legs. His
balls were large and well attached; little reflexive shivers
crawled up her spine.
"Come on," Marc said comfortingly. "If you're ready, we'll
go back outside. Maybe you'd like a swim to cool off."
Diane froze, humiliation running rampant through her whole
being, making her cheeks flush a deep red hue. The miserable
ordeal of facing Roger now overwhelmed her, and she wasn't sure if
she could stand it, not with another man's lewd sperm still
boiling within her belly...
"What's the matter, Diane?" Marc asked softly. "You're not
worried about your husband, are you?"
She could only nod, the choking reply of "Roger ... Roger
will never understand," bubbling from her trembling lips.
Marc laughed softly. "Really, Diane. He's had his, hasn't
he. Isn't turnabout fair play?"
"It's ... different with a man."
"No, it isn't. Not any more, Diane. You'd better begin
living in the Twentieth Century. Your grandmother opened the
gates when she fought for equal rights, and the equality she won
should naturally extend to the bed as well. True democracy must
include sex, for that's one of the basic freedoms if anything is,
and we men should welcome that fact."
Mesmerically, his words churning in her brain, Diane let him
lead her out of the living room and into the still bright
afternoon sun. She looked down at her bare feet, unable to meet
the eyes of the now dressed couple seated calmly at the grotto
table. She was so ashamed, so mortified. She wanted to die!
"Bring the drinks, darling?" Cindy said loudly as they
approached. Diane couldn't help but think how unconcerned she
sounded, just as if nothing had happened. Just as if she had not
screwed Roger and Marc had not just finished with her. Oh God, why
couldn't the earth just open up and swallow her on the spot? Must
she go through with this horrid farce?
"Sure, Cindy," Marc replied, holding the pitcher aloft.
"Right here. Got the glasses ready?"
She numbly sat down across from Roger, head still bowed. He
wouldn't look at her either, his own eyes lowered guiltily. Diane
put her hands on the table and stared at her nails, two rivulets
of tears running down her cheeks unheeded, for she was past
resistance. Nothing mattered any more.
There was a silence as the glasses were filled, and then
Cindy said in a casual tone: "Well, how was it, kids?"
Marc chuckled. "Great. Diane's a fabulous lay. Roger, you
should really consider yourself lucky to have such a wild piece of
ass for a wife."
Roger jerked to his feet in disbelief. "What? What are you
saying, Marc. Did you ...? Were you two in there ...?" His
words dripped bitterness and terror and instant loathing. He
looked as if he were going to vomit.
Diane thought about running. Running anywhere to escape this
dreadful, agonizing scene. But there wasn't any place she could
go; this was her hell, her punishment. Whatever had been left of
her marriage was finished for good now, she thought. Her whole
life had crashed around her, for within the past hour she had
changed from an innocent and faithful wife to a common whore, a
sperm basin for a complete stranger. The full impact of the hour
struck her with complete impact and she cringed in her chair,
waiting for the cauldron of deserved abuse Roger was sure to heap
upon her.
"Now, wait a minute, Roger," Cord said placidly. But his
voice was authoritarian, full of control. "Sit down and listen to
me."
For the first time, Diane ventured to look up. Roger was
staring at her, burning a brand of loathing on her forehead. She
averted her eyes, unable to withstand his naked hatred. But he
obeyed Cord's command and sat down again.
"That's better. Roger, are you going to deny that you were
screwing my wife?"
"I ...," Roger choked, caught on his own petard. "I..."
"Don't make excuses. We watched you giving it to her. Diane
and I both."
There was a long, terrible silence. Diane could not control
herself. "Oh, please, Roger, forgive me! Please forgive me! I
... I didn't know what I was doing! It was a mistake, a horrible
mistake!"
"No," Marc said calmly. "Not any more than my wife was
mistaken in fucking you, Roger. I liked it, Cindy liked it, and
damn it, if you'd both be honest with yourselves, you'd realize
you liked it, too." He paused. "If you regard each other as
exclusive possessions, and hold that sex is fundamentally dirty,
degrading, then this is one experiment you probably won't repeat.
I'm sorry about that. I really can't accept that concept, nor the
one that says someone else can spoil your possession by using it.
I like to think of sex as being clean, natural, good fun, and a
nice way of becoming closer to somebody else."
"I don't think of sex as being dirty," Roger shot back. "But
I can't see throwing all sense of decency out the window like a
... a rutting animal!"
"Calm down, Roger," Marc said. "The trouble is that both of
you were raised as puritans, where innocence and modesty were
virtues, and sex is only used as a means of procreation. But
that's not right, Roger, and it never has been. Group sex is fun,
too, and joy is as moral as procreation. It adds novelty, a
beautiful experience to your life if you'd let it, without taking
anything away from your love for each other."
Diane sat dazed, Marc's strong arguments of his and Cindy's
way of life battling with her own concepts. This was wrong, all
wrong ... or was it? Was his really the better way of life? She
shook her head, confused. So much had happened in so short a
time...
"Look, kids," Cindy said mildly. "Think about it. How you
decide is strictly your business. We're advocating one way,
because we like it, but it may not be your way. At least be
familiar with the fact that it exists."
Diane, a certain new-found courage seeping into her soul,
turned to Cindy. "How--I mean, what happened to ...?" She
faltered, unable to speak the question in her heart.
"How did I become involved?" Cindy prompted. "I don't mind
telling you, Diane, because I've learned to be at peace with
myself and accept the idea of being a woman. I was married
before, to a man who knew only one position of sex and did that
one badly all the time. I had, to put it mildly, strong sexual
conflicts. I divorced him, not only because of that, but for all
sorts of reasons, and then I met Marc. He showed me some stag
films one night, and we made mad, passionate love afterwards. I
had been released, really exploding, for the first time. I became
aware of what sex is all about. Later I had the opportunity to
watch a couple make love. They sucked each other off, and really
did all the tricks, and you know what? I didn't find it to be ugly
as my first husband had taught me, I found it beautiful."
Diane nodded numbly.
"I can't accept that idea," Roger said primly. He got to his
feet, his eyes still blazing uncontrollable rage. "I think we'd
better go, Diane."
"Hey," said Marc. "Take it in the spirit it was given, will
you? Tell you what. Why don't you two come over for dinner
tomorrow night?"
"No," Roger said. "That would be ... impossible."
Marc shrugged. "The invitation is open. We'd love to have
you."
"I'm sure," Roger said coldly.
Cord shrugged. "Think about it."
Roger pressed his lips tightly together and took Diane's arm
and pulled her to her feet.
Quaking with guilt, with physical soreness from Marc's
drubbing cock, with mental confusion, Diane allowed herself to be
roughly led toward the sun porch and the dressing room inside.
Chapter 5
Diane came out of the bathroom and walked into the bedroom,
wearing her long nylon nightie, her blonde hair long and flowing
down her back. Roger was lying on the bed, his hands clasped
behind his head, smoking a cigarette. He wore only his jockey
shorts.
Diane swallowed into her shame-dried throat as she stood just
inside the door, looking at him. His eyes were on the ceiling. He
hadn't looked at her or spoken to her since they'd left the Cord
home in Peacock Gap that afternoon. She had tried to talk to him
several times, but either he walked away from her or the words
constricted in her throat before she could get them said. She
felt total and abject self-abomination at what had happened to her
with Marc Cord on that sun porch couch, what she had willingly
allowed herself to become. Her cunt still throbbed from the
merciless buffeting of Cord's gigantic cock, and her breasts were
swollen and tender from his impassioned manipulations.
His cum is still swishing around inside me, she thought
sickly, endeavoring to further punish herself for her unforgivable
transgression. I'm carrying Marc Cord's sticky white seeds in my
belly right now ... I'm nothing but a dirty, filthy whore and my
soul will surely burn forever in the fires of hell for what I've
done, for the sin I've committed.
Slowly, she walked to the bed and sank onto it, careful not
to touch her husband. Roger didn't look at her, his eyes remained
on the ceiling, the cigarette curling smoke into the electric-
charged air of the room.
Suddenly, Roger asked in a cold, dead voice. "Did you like
it, Diane?"
The sound of his voice caused her heart to pound violently.
"What?"
"The fuck Cord gave you this afternoon?" Roger said. "Did
you like it?"
Tears welled in her eyes. "Oh Roger, please..."
"Goddamn it!" he faltered. "Did you like it?"
In spite of herself, Diane found her mind returning to the
episode on the couch, to her wide-spread legs and the sight of
Cord's huge, blood-engorged penis sawing mercilessly back and
forth into her widespread vagina. Did she like it, did she
really? Yes, she thought with more personal revulsion. Yes, she
had liked it. She had liked it enough to achieve her own climax,
to cum in blinding, crashing waves, to cry out her own fulfillment
to him and send his flood of milky semen surging into her...
The revelation that, truly, she had enjoyed Marc Cord sent
the tears of humiliation cascading like a salty waterfall down
over her cheeks. Oh yes, she was the vilest adulteress, the
foulest harlot, the most miserable of all the world's cyprians...
"Well?" Roger asked. "I asked you a question, bitch."
"Oh, God, Roger, darling, don't torture me!"
"You did like it, didn't you?"
"Yes!" she blurted. "Yes, yes, yes!"
"You fucking whore!"
"Yes, I'm a whore!" she cried, throwing herself against him
and sobbing uncontrollably against his bare chest. "Oh God,
Roger, yes I am!"
He didn't touch her. "You act like you're proud of the
fact."
"Nooooo!" she wailed miserably. "Roger, no, please, I'm not
proud! I'm sick, just sick!"
"You goddamned well ought to be."
She continued to sob against his hirsute chest, her nails
digging lightly, convulsively, into the skin. "Roger ... Roger,
are you sorry you ... did it with Cindy Cord?"
"Hell no, I'm not sorry."
The words were like a whip in her brain, a well-deserved
verbal chastisement, and she felt the masochistic need to hear
more. "Was ... was she good for you?" Diane asked wretchedly.
"Damn right she was," Roger answered. "She was damned good.
She was better than you'll ever be!"
"Oh Roger...!"
"She's ten times the fuck you are!"
Her fingers were kneading his flesh spasmodically now, and
she felt a curious tingling sensation begin in her stomach. "Why,
darling? Why did you ... screw with her?"
"Why?" He laughed scornfully. "Because you're an iceberg,
that's why! Or at least you're an iceberg with me. Maybe with
Cord you weren't. Maybe you gave him one hell of a ride."
The tingling was spreading, inflaming her loins, and she knew
it was the beginning of intense arousal. For some strange,
perverted reason Roger's derisiveness was having a sexual effect
on her body. She was being consumed with lust, slowly, slowly.
She wanted her husband, wanted his body, wanted his ... yes,
wanted his cock inside her ... I want to fuck him, she thought
suddenly. I want him to fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck me! I'm a
whore, aren't I, nothing but a whore, and that's what whores want,
isn't it? To be fucked ... fucked ... fucked ...!
Her hand began to make tiny circular motions on his stomach,
rubbing gently, teasingly, dipping lower until it was just about
to the waistband of his jockey shorts. He looked down at her
hand, not comprehending, not understanding at all. "What the hell
are you doing?"
"Roger ...," she moaned. "Oh God, Roger, I ... I want you!"
"What?" he asked incredulously.
"I want you to ... to fuck me!"
"What?" he said again, not believing his ears. "Did you say
what I thought you said? My own darling, frigid, virginal wife.
Did I hear you say fuck me?"
"Yes! Oh Roger, yes!"
Her hand moved to the waistband of his shorts now, sliding
under it. She could feel the wiry bristles of his pubic hair, and
the touch of him sent ripples of sheer lust coursing through her.
Her hand went still lower, contacting the head of his prick, and
she ran her fingernail over it tantalizingly. Blood pounded
through Roger's loins, causing his cock to leap into rigid
erection, causing it to palpitate achingly under her probing
fingers. She caressed its turgid length, back and forth, back and
forth, then tracing downward to stroke his rapidly bloating balls,
teasing the leathery, wrinkled surface of his scrotum.
"Roger!" she moaned, completely abandoning herself to her
lust, to the newly awakened fires within her; for she was
awakened, she finally realized, Marc Cord had wakened her to the
full enjoyment of sex that afternoon and she hadn't known it until
now ... "Roger, don't you want to fuck me?"
"Jesus Christ!" he said. His hips had begun to squirm on the
bed from her ministrations, and he was breathing raggedly. "I
can't believe this!"
"Don't you, Roger?" she asked, stroking his cock and his
balls. "Don't you, darling?"
"Yes! Jesus, yes!"
He entwined his fingers in her hair and jerked her head up,
grinding his mouth down on hers, and her tongue flashed into his
mouth like a purveyor of liquid fire. Christ, was this his wife,
was this Diane? She was actually hot, she actually wanted him!
Their tongues curled around one another, burning, flicking back
and forth, and she drew hers in and out of his mouth in the
rhythmic attitude of copulation. His hands went to her nightie,
stroking her body through the thin, wispy material. Her fingers
on his cock were burning, burning, and he reached down as he
raised his hips to pull the cloth of his shorts away from his
blistering, fervid loins. His monstrous, trembling penis leapt
into her hand and she consumed it as if it were something she had
wanted all her life, but had been forbidden to have until that
very moment.
"Roger!" she breathed against his mouth. "Roger, make me
naked! Rip my nightie off, Roger! Now, now, now!"
His hand closed over the neck of the silky garment, bunching
it in his fingers, then savagely he jerked back and downward.
There was a whispering, shredding sound as it came loose in his
hand, as he tore it from her taut, hard-nippled breasts and drew
it down over her pussy, so wet now with the flowing secretions of
her expanding lust. She helped him by twisting and undulating her
body, her hand still vibrantly rubbing his genitals, her mouth
still fused hotly with his. And then she was completely nude, and
his hands were on her breasts, kneading and manipulating her
hardening nipples until she mewled with pleasure deep in her
throat. Then his hand was moving down, down over her stomach,
through the soft golden fleece of her pubic hair, finally touching
the erect, pulsing shaft of the miniature phallus that was her
clitoris. She whimpered in unrestrained pleasure as he massaged
the tiny, trembling bud between his thumb and forefinger. Her
loins began to grind down into the sheets of the bed in wild,
uncontrolled counterpoint to his fingering movements down between
her legs. Her head flailed from side to side, the sensations so
intense within her that fresh new mewls of lust and excitement
erupted from her throat.
Diane continued to enfold his granite-hard cock, drawing the
foreskin back and forth, tickling the blood-swollen vein on its
underside. She felt every ridge, every muscle, every vein in its
immense expanse. But she wanted to know it better, to learn each
and every inch of it, to know it as well as she knew herself; she
was completely lost now in the building passion which she had
allowed to take control of her body, which Roger's teasing fingers
were further enhancing.
I want to suck it, she thought then as she stroked him. I
want to suck his big, hard prick, I want to feel it in my mouth, I
want to know what it's like to suck my husband and really enjoy
it, not like last night on the kitchen floor but really and truly
enjoy it...
"Darling!" she breathed against his mouth. "Darling, I want
to suck your cock! Please, darling, I want to suck it!"
Tremors of lewd desire ran rampant through Roger's flesh.
This was what he had always dreamed of! This was what he had
always wanted, but never thought he would achieve! She was
literally begging him to allow her to suck his cock! She wanted
it, wanted his penis, wanted his body, wanted him!
"Yes!" he crooned. "Oh Jesus, yes, baby, yes!"
Her mouth left his and began to trail down along his chest,
pausing to nip gently at the erectness of his nipples, marveling
that male teats reacted under extreme arousal much as those of a
female, and then moving down along his belly. She let her tongue
flick into the tiny, puckered opening of his navel, felt him twist
and jerk beneath her head and his hand continue to oscillate her
swollen clitoris back and forth. Then she was poised above the
hot, hard length of his cock. Her eyes were open wide and she
stared at the thin sheen of lubricating fluid which dribbled from
the small opening in the glans, to flow down along the shaft and
cause it to shine moistly in the pale light from the nightstand
lamp. She kept staring at it, as if hypnotized by that unseeing
eye, the purplish-red, palpitating monster which she had cradled
in her hand.
It seemed to sway before her face, like a charmed cobra,
urging her mutely to come closer, come nearer. She obeyed. Her
lips were only a scant inch from the moist, drooling head, half an
inch, and then her tongue came out with agonizing slowness and
touched the rubbery glans, touched it and began to swirl around
the opening, lapping up all the thick, sticky fluid. Diane's
brain reeled from the electric touch of her tongue on his penis,
from the salty, not unpleasant taste of his semen. It was good,
good, good. She hadn't dreamed it would be this good! She opened
her mouth wider and took the head inside the butter-soft interior,
swirling her tongue faster and faster now over the dripping glans,
causing Roger to cry out in pure delight.
"Oh Jesus, Jesus, baby, that's it! Oh Christ, that's
ittttt!" he wailed, wrapping his hands in her hair and pushing her
head down on him, making her take more of his rigid column into
her gently nibbling mouth.
She massaged the soft resilient skin of his testicles
tantalizingly with one hand, and her thumb and forefinger were
stroking the mighty base of his cock. She was sucking
rhythmically up and down now, twirling the softness of her tongue
maddeningly around it at the apex of the withdrawal, the tip
flicking across the tiny split in the glans. Roger flexed his
buttocks, moaning, looking down at the crown of her head bobbing
up and down above his loins as she simultaneously worked her
buttocks in tight, undulating circles. He imagined the pink fleshy
lips being pulled out grotesquely, clinging to his thick cock as
she sucked voraciously, her feverish mind churning with the
delicious lewdness of the act.
Roger felt her naked breasts flex and dance in his belly, and
he knew he was going to cum before very much longer. He could
feel the surging, boiling activity in his balls, the impending
eruption of his churning sperm. God, she was ... she was
incredible! Even Cindy Cord hadn't been this good yesterday, when
she had sucked him by the pool! He had never known it could be
like this!
"Baby ...!" he panted. "Baby, I want to ... fuck you now ...
got to fuck you now ... come on, baby, let me fuck you..."
She ceased her maddening licking of his cock, stopped the
delicious gentle digging of the tips of her teeth into the hard
resisting flesh. Almost reluctantly, she released his cock, let
it slide from her mouth trailing a thin strand of lubrication with
her wet, glistening lips as they pulled away. She turned her face
up to him, her eyes burning with lust and desire and ... yes, with
love, too, he could see that. She rolled over onto her back, with
her legs pulled up, knees to her breasts, and spread widely,
lewdly, exposing the pink, passion soaked petals of her vagina to
his eyes.
Roger rolled over, poised over her. He had to fuck her, and
he had to fuck her now; if he didn't he was not only going to blow
his wad, he was going to blow his goddamned mind!
"Take it in your hand, baby," he whispered fervently. "Take
my big cock in your hand and shove it up that tight little cunt of
yours where Marc Cord's was this afternoon! Do it now, baby! Put
it in, put it in!"
Her hand slipped down as she tossed and flung her body on the
sweat-soaked bed and encircled his thick throbbing cock in her
small fingers. She spread her legs and thighs ever wider apart as
her fingers dug into the moist, slick surface of his shaft; and
then she was guiding his prick toward the small, juicy hole of her
vagina, using its bulbous, purplish head to part the pubic hair
and full, fleshy lips of her cunt.
She gasped aloud at the sudden electrifying contact of the
rubbery glans against the damp, sensitive flesh. Roger flicked
his hips slightly forward, and Diane felt a sharp little pain from
the stretching pressure of his member at the tight entrance of her
vaginal orifice.
"Ohhhhh!" she cried. "Aaaaaaaggggghhhh!"
He pushed forward again as the gigantic crest forced its way
into the tightly clenched elastic opening. Her hips flew up to
meet his thrust, burying almost the full length of his tumescent
rod in the folds of her cunt, sending it racing along the
lubricated passage and into her belly until she felt his heavy,
sperm-bloated balls smack solidly against the upturned cheeks of
satin-soft ass.
"Ohhhhhh, Rogerrrrrr, Rogerrrrr!" she wailed beneath him as
he flexed his cock deep inside the tight flesh of her vaginal
sheath, lurching the thick shaft another fraction of an inch
deeper into her, then repeated the motion again, and again, each
time raising moans of pain and joy from deep inside Diane. Soon,
her vaginal slit became accustomed to his monstrous size, and the
pain abated and there was nothing for her but joy, joy for the
first time from the plunging cock of her husband, the man she
loved.
Roger began a slow revolving motion with his pelvis, grinding
his cock tightly into her naked crotch, expanding the walls of her
pussy even more.
"Fuck me, Roger, fuck me, fucccccckkkkkk meeeeee!" she heard
herself cry out, and the obscene words from her own lips caused
her flailing buttocks to rotate even more insanely, to demand even
harder thrusts from her husband's churning loins. He rocked above
her, using short, smooth strokes, and her body reacted in kind,
chills of excitement and rapture spiraling the full length of her
spine as she felt the tempo of his heavy, burgeoning cock burrow
into her throbbing cunt.
Quickly, he increased his pace and the length of his stroke,
knowing he couldn't last much longer, feeling the volcano that was
his balls almost brimming over. Diane raised her widespread loins
up to him in simultaneous rhythm to his every downward thrust as
her passion-contorted face twisted wantonly with her desire.
Now Roger was slamming into her with demoniacal force,
drawing his heavy cock nearly out of the tight, moist sheath
clasping at it hungrily, then plunging down again until his
swollen balls slapped ruthlessly against the exposed, puckered
ring of her asshole. The pressure was mounting, mounting, in his
billowing sac, and his head swam wildly with the impending
knowledge of his cumming. He had never known a fucking like this,
never, never, never! Oh God, she was beyond his wildest
fantasies!
Diane began to toss her head in frenzied, abandoned ecstasy,
impaled on his rock-hard shaft, and rapturous little moans bubbled
past her lips. She was so wild she was going to go out of her
mind, she knew it, she knew it! She sucked at his tongue, buried
half into her throat now, trying to milk it as her pussy was
trying to milk his pistoning cock, and her legs raised even higher
to receive his thundering manhood.
"I'm ... I'm almost ... there, darling!" Roger shouted in
mindless ecstasy then, and she gurgled her agreement, her
encouragement, her need around his tongue. She was almost there
herself. She wanted to cum with him, co-mingle his juices with
Marc's in her belly until she was consumed by nothing but lust-
fire from within.
Roger increased his pace even more, deepening his thrust as
she writhed wildly beneath him, grinding up and down his cock with
incredible fury, her legs twitching, her toes curling as she
lurched her legs wide and upwards. He knew by this that she was
near orgasm, and he pounded, pounded, reveling the wet, slurping
sounds which came to his ears from his pile-driving cock in her
eagerly sucking cunt. He pressed his hands behind her knees and
thrust them back hard against her breasts, until her head was
framed between them, bringing the tableau of her magnificent
crotch higher and wider open to his brutal plunges.
"Ohhhhh, ohhhhh, ohhhhh!" Diane chanted under him as she felt
her orgasm climbing to the very pinnacle. Her passion-contorted
features were like a gargoyle caricature of her normally soft,
innocent beauty.
Roger ground his cock hard and deep, faster, faster, into the
tender sanctuary of her womb. He watched her breasts heave and
quiver as a result of his pummeling, even saw their tiny nipples
expand before his very eyes as she tossed her head wildly, crazily
from side to side. And then she convulsed beneath him, her mouth
opening wide around his penetrating tongue, and a cry of animal
delight, of pagan rapture, tore from the core of her being.
"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHH!"
As he continued to hammer into her, Roger felt her cunt walls
secrete their warm gushes of wet sticky fluid around his
plundering cock, inundating his shaft and his balls. She was
cumming like he was sure she did with Marc Cord this afternoon!
With renewed urgency, he thrust faster, deeper, with all the
strength he possessed. He felt her jerk, lurch, spasm wildly, the
mouth of her cunt sucking at him feverishly, her breath spewing
against his face in short, ragged gasps. And then he sensed his
own hot, churning sperm race the length of his prick in incredible
ecstasy, causing his body to tremble with palsied motion as his
juices spurted from the opening in his cock far, deep, far, deep
into her violently quivering recesses ... it was a never-ending
flow which caused her to moan in spasmodic, indecipherable cries
of delight as her belly quaked with the unleashed pool of
delectation he had emptied into her...
A long time later, an eternity later, the torrent ended and
her own body relaxed. She let her legs fall limp around Roger as
he collapsed forward on her, and her heart roared and pounded like
the mighty crash of surf in her chest. Dear God, she had never
known anything that good existed on the face of this earth! And
she had thought she had been sexually awakened with Marc Cord!
But that had only been the beginning, only the first unbinding of
her physically chained body, for now, with the man she loved, with
her husband Roger, she had experienced rapture beyond all mortal
expectancy. Never, never, never had she ever in her wildest
dreams thought sex would be this good, this wonderful!
After a while, Roger lifted his head and gazed into Diane's
eyes. His own eyes were moist, and filled with satiation, with
exhaustion, with ... yes, with love. "Diane," he began,
swallowing, "Oh God, darling, that was ... that was beyond
belief!"
She kissed him gently, nibbling at his lower lip. "Was it
better than with ... with Cindy Cord?" she inquired softly.
"God, yes! Oh Jesus Christ, you don't even have to ask!"
She kissed him again. "You were better than Marc Cord,
darling," she said. "Much, much better."
"Do you mean that?"
"Oh yes, I mean it." She moved her hand down along the
sweat-slick surface of his buttocks to dip between them and gently
rub the soft, resilient skin of his deflated balls.
"Diane ... I love you, I really love you!" Roger blurted.
"I'm sorry for ... for what happened last night, and for what
happened with Cindy..."
"Shhhh," she told him. "Don't be sorry, Roger. Don't be.
I'm glad it all happened. Up until just now, I ... hated myself,
but not now, not now. I'm glad I let Marc Cord fuck me and plant
his seed deep inside me!"
"Y-you are?"
"Yes, dear," Diane said. "Don't you see? Somehow, letting a
strange man touch me, use my body, shoot in me, awakened all the
desires which I had unwittingly kept repressed so long inside me."
"Something I couldn't do," Roger said, with a trace of
bitterness. "Something your own husband couldn't accomplish in
two years of marriage and love-making."
"No, no, darling, that isn't it at all," Diane said. "It
didn't have anything to do with you. What it was was me. I'd
lived with my puritanical moral upbringing so long that I just
couldn't change when I married, when it became all right for me to
experience sexual desires. I still couldn't bring myself to let
go. It took an affair, a morally forbidden affair, a lewd fucking
with a man I hardly knew to open up this whole new wonderful world
for me."
Roger considered her words for a moment, and then he kissed
the soft, smooth column of her throat tenderly. "Then ... I'm
glad we went over to the Cords today, Diane. I'm glad because the
only thing that's kept our marriage from being perfect was your
... your..."
"Frigidity?" Diane whispered. "You can say it now, Roger,
because that's just what it was. I understand that ... and I'm
ashamed of it, of the torment I must have put you through these
past two years, all the while blaming you because I thought you
were too demanding."
They lay in silence for a long while, with Roger's now limp
prick draining lovingly into Diane's satiated, warmly moist cunt.
He made no move to rise from her body, and she made no move to
push him off; they were together, for the first time, together.
Finally, Roger said, "Diane?"
"Yes, darling?"
"About what Marc and Cindy said today? About ... well, hell,
about wife swapping. What do you think about it?"
"I don't know, darling. This one time, today, was good
because of what it did for me, for us. But anything more than
that..." She let her voice trail off as she thought about it.
"I was just wondering," Roger said, "if maybe our whole
perspective wouldn't benefit by ... by taking them up on their
offer. I mean, if just one afternoon of swapping has given us the
loving we just had, is it possible that continued swapping will
make it even better for you and me in the future, even wilder than
what we just had?"
"I ... I'm not sure," Diane replied. "You might be right. I
know I'm ... well, I'm still attracted to Marc Cord and I ... I
guess I wouldn't mind him fucking me again." She felt little
salacious thrills spin along the flesh of her inner thighs at the
thought of Cord's huge, rock-hard cock. "I couldn't possibly feel
the same about him as I feel about you, of course, darling. But
still ..." Again, she let her voice trail off.
"Yes," Roger said, "I know what you mean. After the fuck we
just had together, there's no other woman who could satisfy me any
better. But I'm damned if I wouldn't like to get into Cindy Cord's
pants again."
Diane kissed his eyes, his mouth. "Do you ... think we ought
to take them up on their offer?" she asked softly. "About seeing
them again tomorrow night, I mean?"
Roger pondered it. "Suppose we think about it," he said.
"There'll be time enough to decide tomorrow."
"All right." Diane moved her hips seductively on the bed,
her fingernails tracing little prickles of delight along his
buttocks. In response, she felt his cock begin to stir from its
flaccid rest in the warm, moist, fleshy walls of her cunt.
"You're getting another hard-on, darling," she teased.
"Well, so I am."
"Shall we?"
He let his tongue flick along her lips and then burrow inside
her mouth. He retracted it just enough to say, "Goddamned right
we shall!"
* * *
In the office the next morning, Roger couldn't seem to
concentrate. His mind kept reverting back to the events of last
night, to the three glorious hours of love making he and Diane had
had before finally falling asleep entwined in each other's arms.
Jesus, he thought as he sat at his desk, the columns of
figures in the open ledger before him blurring together, who would
have thought last week, even yesterday morning, that my prudish
little wife would turn into one of the wildest fucks ever
imaginable? She damned near tore me apart last night. I'd never
say so to his face, but I guess I've got Cord to thank for finally
snapping the ties that bound her sexually. From here on in,
things are going to be just great, what I've always dreamed of...
He tried to read the figures before him again, and then threw
his pencil down in futility. It was no use; he couldn't get with
it today. He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling
for a moment. Suddenly and unaccountably, he found himself
thinking about Cindy Cord.
She was one hell of a fuck in her own right, that's for sure,
he thought. I wouldn't mind putting it to her again, even if
Diane has finally emancipated herself. Hell, I've sort of
discovered my own virility, too. No more quiet, staid, ultra-
conservative Roger Slater; now it's Roger Slater, the swinger,
Roger Slater, the cocksman. Yeah, what was it Cord said to me
that night in the Pig and Whistle? "Play the modern role," that
was it. Well, that's just exactly what I'm going to do from now
on. I'm going to play the modern role, all right.
The telephone rang.
Roger picked up the receiver, said hello. And as if sensing
the thoughts he was thinking, Cindy Cord's husky voice breathed
into his ear, "Hello, lover. How's my handsome lover man this
morning?"
He blinked. "Cindy?" He started to ask her why she had
called him, but the tone of her voice made that plain. And he was
Roger Slater, the swinger, now wasn't he? He said, "I was just
thinking about you."
She laughed musically. "Were you? Well, that's nice to
hear. And what were you thinking about me?"
"That you're a damned desirable woman."
"Oh? It seems your attitude has changed since you left
yesterday, Roger honey."
"I've done a lot of thinking, all right."
"I'm glad to hear that." Cindy paused, and then purred, "Will
you and Diane be coming over tonight? The invitation is still
open."
"I'm still considering it."
"You do want to fuck me again, don't you Roger?" she teased
candidly. "You do want to put that lovely big cock of yours into
my hot, juicy cunt, don't you?"
Roger felt fire beginning to leap in his loins. Jesus, she
was a wanton little bitch! "I wouldn't mind it," he managed to
say coolly.
Cindy laughed again. "I'll suck you off again," she said.
"Until you cum this time, Roger. Until you squirt gallons and
gallons of your hot, sticky sperm into my mouth. Would you like
that, Roger?"
"Christ!" he said, feeling some of the suaveness slip away
from him. His cock was rigid in his pants now; her words were
like a caressing hand on his vitals.
"You will be over tonight, won't you Roger?"
"Yes! I'll be over tonight. I'll be over, and I'll fuck
your cunt and I'll fuck your mouth and maybe I'll even fuck your
asshole."
"Ooooooohhhhh!" she giggled. "I can hardly wait!"
After they had hung up, Roger sat there staring at the phone,
feeling the aching pangs of desire surging through his erect
penis. She could hardly wait? Holy Christ, if he didn't cum in
his pants before he ever got there, he would be damned lucky!
* * *
Diane was vacuuming the living room when the phone rang that
morning. She pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes, switched off
the vacuum cleaner, and went into the kitchen to answer it.
Marc Cord's voice said smoothly, "Good morning, Diane."
She felt a small tingle race through her. "Why ... hello,
Marc. This is a surprise. You're the last person I would have
expected to call."
"Oh? And why is that?"
"Didn't you see Roger this morning?"
"Why, yes I did," Cord answered. "We had a nice little chat,
as a matter of fact. He's no longer ... shall we say, uptight
about yesterday."
"I know," Diane said. She moistened her lips. "But if you
saw Roger, then you know he's not here. Why did you call, Marc?"
"To talk to you, of course."
"Why would you want to talk to me?"
"To find out if you two will be coming over tonight."
"Didn't you ask Roger?"
"When I saw him, he said he was still thinking about it,"
Cord told her. "I was wondering what you thought."
Diane felt very wicked, teasing. Last night had been so
wonderful, so beyond all her previous conceptions of physical
fulfillment. She was a new woman now, there was simply no denying
that fact, and her freshly-discovered sexual freedom gave her a
certain sense of power, of lustiness. Yes, she was a new woman, a
happy one for the first time in her married life, and she was
really going to enjoy herself.
She said, "I don't know about tonight, Marc. If we do come
over, what will happen?"
"What do you want to happen, Diane?"
"Why, nothing especially."
"Are you sure?"
"I don't know what you mean, Marc," she said, knowing full
well what he meant. She could feel her vagina begin to secrete
droplets of fluid down between her legs as lewd thoughts traveled
through her brain. In her mind's eye she saw Cord's huge prick
again, saw it up close as she had seen Roger's last night, with
its unseeing eye staring at her, drooling...
Cord's breathing came a little faster over the wire.
"Diane," he whispered, "Diane, I'd like to ... to fuck you again.
Like I did yesterday."
She was silent for a long, dramatic moment. And then she said
softly, "Would you, Marc?"
"Yes, damn it!"
"Well, I'll have to think about it," she breathed.
"Diane..."
"Good-bye, Marc," she said, and hung up.
She stood there with her eyes closed, the juices of her
desire soaking the thin, filmy material of her panties. God,
talking to Marc had made her hot! She wanted him again, all
right, and unless she was very much mistaken Roger wanted Cindy
again, too. She knew what her husband would say when he came home
from work and they discussed the Cords again; he would want to go
back over to Peacock Gap tonight as much as she did.
Diane's cunt ached with a throbbing intensity now, as she
once more thought about Marc Cord's fleshy pile-driving rod and
muscled, bronzed body. She let her hands stray down the sides of
her body, all the way to her thighs, and then pushed up the short
hem of her housedress. She held it bunched at her waist with one
hand, while the other moved with tantalizing slowness to explore
the wet, sticky surface of her silk-encased vagina. She allowed
one finger to slide inside the elastic leg band of her panties to
touch the wet, palpitating folds of her petal-like cunt lips and
then to slip inside the soft, warm slit with maddening slowness.
Paroxysms of utter joy flooded her body as she stood there,
manipulating her pussy and thinking about Marc Cord.
Damn, she could scarcely wait until tonight!
Chapter 6
The evening breeze was cool and crisp, blowing through the
car's open window to refresh Diane. She sat close to Roger,
looking lovingly at him, and he smiled warmly back at her. She
turned to peer into the night's darkness ahead, taking a hand to
brush the silken strands of her blonde hair from her eyes. She
felt nervous, but yet tantalizingly exited, for tonight was an
important one to her. Yes, and to Roger as well.
Last night, with Marc and then her husband later, had been
the beginning, the turning point in her otherwise fruitless
existence. At last she felt the emergence of the real woman who
had been so long buried beneath the layers of false modesty and
Victorian prudery. She was no longer her mother's daughter--she
was full, rich, red-blooded, alive.
But tonight was still another major step for her, and as
Roger neared the Peacock Gap house of Marc and Cindy Cord, she
realized that by accepting the dinner invitation, she was going to
lose the last vestiges of her inhibitions and become devoured in
the enveloping warmth of lust for the sake of lust alone. Tonight
she was going to actively, openly participate in group sex; there
was no denying it. She was going to exchange mates, to be yet
another convert to the cult of wife-swapping. Wife-swapping: a
horrid, indecent, disgusting word which brought lip curls of
contempt from the lips of decent people. Wife-swapping. She
mouthed the word, letting it roll around on her tongue like a
bittersweet candy. It was exciting, and brought a delicious
tingle to Diane as she mulled over what this evening was to bring.
Yes, yes, tonight would bring Marc Cord and his overwhelming,
lovely cock and his masterful ways of love-making. Yes, she
wanted Marc, she wanted to be swapped for him, she wanted him to
fuck her ... lubricating fluids began to seep from her soft, warm
vagina and she pressed her legs together, not wanting to make her
excitement obvious to Roger.
"Diane," Roger suddenly said, "Diane ... I love you."
She turned away from the window and stared at her husband.
"I know you do, darling," she replied softly, "And I love you,
too."
"I--I want you to know that before ... well, before we get
involved tonight." He seemed to swallow a lump in his throat. "I
don't want you to misunderstand if ... if ... well, you know."
Diane smiled understandingly. "I know," she said. "And you
won't make me have a double standard, I know that, too."
Roger was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded. "If
that's how it's got to be for you to become a woman, to respond
sexually to me, then so be it." He smiled at her and winked.
"After last night I can say that my wife possesses more hidden
talent in bed than any other woman I've ever known."
"Or will know?" Diane, suddenly flooded with desire and
affection, nestled her hand on his inner thigh.
"Or ... will know."
Diane began to stroke his thigh in light, caressing motions.
A moan of pleasure escaped from deep within Roger's chest and he
stared down at her polished fingernails and the path they traced
on his trousers. Diane edged farther along his inner thigh, and
he spread his legs slightly to allow her access to his crotch.
She smiled, a sudden rush of prurient sensation rippling through
her.
"Oh God, baby, you drive me wild!" Roger groaned,
involuntarily jerking forward so that she touched the already
rigid outline of his penis. "Oh, Jesus, I wish you'd always been
like this."
"Don't worry, darling. From now on I will be." Diane stroked
his swelling cock through the pants, feeling the long, turgid
shank expand and press against the binding cloth. She rubbed
harder, as though she were trying to polish it, and Roger panted
excitedly. "I'm going to crash the car, for Christ's sake, if you
don't stop!"
"You want me to stop?"
"No, no, don't stop!"
Diane fumbled with his zipper and slowly lowered it, then
reached in and tugged the band of his shorts, insinuating her
fingers inside. His flesh was hot, his pubic hair like coarse
sandpaper, his rod eagerly awaiting the touch of her fingertips.
It jumped convulsively when she scratched the bulbous head with
one long nail. Diane almost couldn't believe such a wanton action
... it was so unlike her previous self. To be feeling Roger's
cock in a car! Why ... last week, she hated the very sight of it
in the bedroom, much besides reveling at its touch.
"You'd better zip me up, Diane," Roger advised, "We're almost
at the Cords'."
But she played with him teasingly until they were on the
macadam driveway, and she laughed as he made a bumbling attempt to
zip himself closed before opening the car door.
Marc and Cindy were waiting at the open front door. There
were the usual greetings, but as the door closed Marc suddenly
took hold of Diane and pressed her close to him. In full view of
his wife and her husband, he kissed Diane passionately, the way a
lover kisses his mistress. There was no question in anybody's
mind after that what the evening's entertainment would consist of-
-if indeed there had been any to begin with.
The dinner, served after two rounds of drinks, was
delectable. Cindy was a marvelous cook, and had worked hard to be
the gracious hostess, serving hors d'oeuvres, with the drinks, and
then shrimp cocktails, Caesar salad, and the main course of rock
Cornish game hen, roasted plain in the fashionable way, wild rice,
Brussels sprouts and cauliflower rosettes.
The dessert of cheese and fruit was served buffet style in
the living room. Marc excused himself only to return a few
moments later with four glasses of a chilled magnum of Mumm's
champagne.
"What's that for?" Diane asked.
"A celebration," Cord said jovially, unwrapping the foil
crown and pressing the cork with his thumb. "A celebration of
your husband's promotion to General Office Manager of my section
of Waller, Waller, Crist and Maxwell--as of Monday."
"Oh, that's wonderful!" Diane squealed--just as the cork
popped and shot across the room.
"How come?" Roger asked, grinning boyishly. "I thought--"
"I talked to some people and we decided you should be trained
before Drake retires. So, as of Monday, you'll be with me. Like
it?"
"Of course!" Roger accepted the offered crystal glass of
champagne and drank. Cindy sidled up to him and kissed him
lightly on his cheek, saying, "Wonderful, Roger. I'm thrilled for
you."
Diane turned to Cord, the bubbly effervescence of the
champagne giving her the fortification to block her natural
modesty.
"You like champagne?" he asked.
"I ... like the feeling it gives." She smiled at Cord,
marveling at her ease, catching the appreciative look he gave the
full length of her body. She could feel the throb of desire in her
loins as he mentally undressed her, and she had to admit she was
actually looking forward to making love with him again. She was
willing and anxious, and the champagne flowed coolly down her
heated throat. Cord quickly poured her another glass, sensing her
rising passion as the time drew nearer.
"You were wonderful yesterday," Marc whispered in her ear,
nuzzling gently her hair and lobe. "I'm more than happy you
decided to return tonight for ... Round Two."
"So am I," Diane responded. "I guess I was ... pretty shy.
It was my first time."
"I know." Marc smiled and took the glass from her hand and
set it on the table. Then, his arms pulled her to him and his
lips came moistly down on hers, his tongue darting wetly into her
mouth. She sucked on it gently, allowing her body to melt against
his, and she trembled from the excitement of this man's kiss. All
hints of her slight previous nervousness disappeared, and she
pressed her lips tighter to his mouth, feeling the hardening of
his great cock where he rubbed into the softness of her stomach.
He was getting an erection, and she felt her own muscles constrict
and her breasts begin tingling.
They pulled apart slightly, catching their breaths, and she
looked across to the brocade couch which faced away from them.
Roger was embracing Cindy there, and the woman was wrapping her
arms tightly around him, urging him on with tiny feminine mewls of
delight. Cord saw Diane looking at the other couple and said,
"They seem to have things under control."
"Mmmm," Diane, sighed, returning to his embrace, "And so do
we."
"Christ, I want to fuck you!" Cord whispered, suddenly,
fervently. "And I want to do it here, right now!"
Diane remembered the lewd, obscene spectacle of the two of
them on the tweed couch yesterday, and hoped she would lose
herself in the same wild, frenzied passion as she had then. The
thought of being loved by Marc there, in the living room, in full
view of her own husband excited her perversely, hotly.
"I'm ready!" she urged. "Oh, Marc ... yes ... fuck me!"
The word strangely accentuated the situation, and it was a
feeling she welcomed wantonly. She reached down and boldly
stroked his enlarged, steel cock through his trousers, feeling
more wicked than she ever had felt before in her life. The
tingling in her breasts spread to her groin and enveloped her
thighs.
"Strip!" Cord commanded, unable to wait any longer. "Get
naked!" Diane took one last look at her husband, who was now out
of sight on the couch cushions, the back of the brocade furnishing
a screen to the actions of love-making she knew was happening
there. Then she reached behind her and slid the zipper of her
green dress down from neck to her buttocks. She lifted her arms
and the dress dropped to the floor, puddling around her feet. She
stepped out of it, just as Marc unhooked her brassiere; the bra
dropped to the dress, and the cool evening air made the red teats
of her breasts harden like concrete chips.
Cord reached for her, the touch of his hands on her naked
shoulders causing her to jump involuntarily. The realization that
she stood near nude while her husband was busy nearby with another
woman fanned the lust which was burning in her thighs, and the
thought that she would soon be writhing on the floor with a
strange man she hardly knew pumping between her open legs added to
the forbidden thrill.
She stripped her panties down over the satiny fullness of her
thighs and buttocks and added them to the puddle of dress and
brassiere. Cord lowered his head to her breast, suckling the
tiny, throbbing nipple deep into his mouth. Diane moaned and
swayed, almost falling.
"No ... no, not yet, Marc!" she panted. "I ... have my
stockings and heels on."
"Leave them on. I want you like that."
She slipped to the floor, using the clothing there as she had
been forced to use the torn dress on the kitchen floor with Roger
as a towel against the surface. The rug was thick, though, a
deep-pile buff-colored shag, and was almost as soft and
comfortable as a bed. She stretched out luxuriously, widening her
legs to show Marc the full, enticing view of her warm, moist cunt.
She was alive! She rubbed her hands along her sides and dipped a
finger provocatively into the pink-tinged valley of her vagina,
spreading the moistened, pulsating lips of the channel in preview
of the impending lust-fulfilling fuck he knew he was going to give
her.
"Hurry, hurry!" she moaned loudly then. "I want you!" She
made no attempt to keep her voice down, wanting Roger and Cindy to
hear her ... to hear the two of them as they fucked there on the
floor. She waited as Cord shed his clothes like a demon possessed
and then lowered his nakedness down to her.
"Oh God, Diane, I want to fuck you! I'm going to fuck you
until you can't walk!" he hissed between clenched teeth.
She moaned with the thrill of Marc's touch, the sensations of
desire boiling through her pussy like molten lava. Her whole cunt
was ready to erupt like Vesuvius! "Oh fuck me, fuck me, Marc!"
she cried out, "I need you, I need you!" She knew her husband had
heard her that time, and she didn't care, didn't care about
anything.
Cord's moist lips started a nibbling motion along her
shoulder and neck, sending quivers of goosepimples racing over her
body. She writhed uncontrollably beneath his lips and dropped her
hand back to his now unclothed cock, grasping the erect member
brutally in her hands. She heard him groan as she slid the
foreskin back over its engorged head, and rolled the loose flesh
around its base. He dipped back to her breasts, his mouth playing
wildly with her nipples and aureoles, his tongue trailing wetly
through the rich valley of flesh between the throbbing tits as he
alternated his attention between them.
Then he went lower, moving his body around so that she could
still manipulate his penis, but so that he was able to bathe her
belly and inner thighs with his enriching tongue. He ground the
tip into her navel, bringing soft moans of pleasure from Diane's
lust-contorted lips and gasps of maddening sensations from her
throat. He licked still lower, and Diane felt her groin flower to
the pattern of indecent nippings, and then she stretched her legs
upwards and back against her breasts as he hunched over her naked
cunt and spread the dew-moistened lips with his fingers. His
tongue circled around her inner thighs and buttocks and then
plunged hotly into the pink, wet flesh of her pussy.
"Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!" she groaned gutturally. "That's
what I like! Yes, yes, yesssssss, don't stop! Don't stop!"
She chanted the words blindly, her breasts mashed against her
upthrust legs. She put her hands to her smooth, slick cheeks and
spread her cunt open further to his oral ministrations, and he in
turn pulled the exposed crevice closer to his groveling mouth.
His tongue flickered against the diamond bud of her enraged
clitoris, causing it to quiver with expectancy. Then he stabbed
snake-like against the gushing walls of her sensitive, throbbing
pussy.
Diane raised herself up on her elbows and watched down
between her breasts in complete captivation as Marc nestled his
mouth into the hollow of her open cunt. She shuddered from his
soft lickings on her tender skin and in her wet creases, and felt
his hot puffs of breath. She pumped in the rhythm of copulation
as his magic tongue kissed her from the bottom to the top of her
vaginal damp slit. She rolled her head back, slowly tossing it
from side to side as the delicious contact continued. Cord was
gasping as Diane ministered to his massive cock, and he in turn
jerked his thighs as though he was fucking her stroking hand. But
not once did he alter or break the lashing contact of his eager
mouth, tongue and lips. Even his nose was immersed in her steaming
slit, the nostrils flaring excitedly at the odor of pussy and
flowing juices.
He dipped to kiss the wrinkled ring of her anus, and Diane
was fairly shrieking with delight at the forbidden act. He thrust
the hard tip of his tongue into her asshole, feeling its rubbery
opening give and stretch before his invading tongue. Then he
moved one of his hands from her firm ass cheeks, poising it before
the quivering hole, and his mouth returned to her clitoris; as it
did, he pressed his middle finger into her rectal passage, sinking
it to the first knuckle brutally.
"Aggggghhhhh! It hurts!" Diane cried out, delirious with
masochistic pain-joy at the ravagement. "It hurts so much!"
He wriggled his finger, extending it to the second knuckle.
"Ohhhh! Ohhh! I can't stand it!" she screamed. "It's too
much! Too much!"
Cord did not remove his invading digit. He continued to move
it around as he thrust his tongue deep inside her vagina until her
voice died in a strangled mixture of sob and sigh and then broke
again in a high-pitched wail as her passion overflowed her loins.
She twisted in his double grip, writhing in sweet agony. Marc's
lips and finger caused a crackling thunder of sweeping emotions to
surge through her body. She gasped and groaned, a burning
wildness taking hold of her as she lay impaled upon tongue and
finger. She rotated her buttocks abandonedly, the ecstasy probing
through her loins and swirling through her naked flesh. God, oh
Jesus! There was nothing else in the world except the enervating
convulsions of her naked cunt!
Cord thrust his tongue deeper, working faster and faster as
he heard her approach her climax. He plunged every inch of his
huge tongue into her willing cunt, tasting its slightly acid
secretions, licking the swollen cunt lips, kissing the trembling
inner thighs. She was a hot little bitch, he thought, and he had
waited for his chance and found it well worthwhile. He flicked
his tongue and worked his finger faster and deeper into her ever-
expanding holes, and her body shuddered beneath him, her thighs
opening and closing spasmodically.
"Dear God ...!" Diane convulsed, her head flailing wildly as
she tensed her back in an arch. Her neck muscles stood out like
tendons, and her face screwed into a contorted mask as a low,
animalistic growl began to build within her. She was almost there
... almost on the brink ...
"Oh God, I can't take it ... That's enough! Oh stop, oh stop
... Please ... Ohhhhhhhhh I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cumming...
AAAAAAGGGGGGggggggghhhhhhshhhh!"
Diane spasmed and climaxed her heart slamming against her
ribs, her mind awash with the flaming pleasure of her orgasm. Her
insides felt as though they were afire, and her release circled
through her in increasing spirals. Her fluids gushed down along
Marc's mouth and chin, puddled wetly around his finger still sunk
in her anus, dripped to the clothing below. Finally, she
collapsed on the rug, dropping her legs as though they were lead
weights. She lay uselessly immobile, the world having almost
ended for her in a cataclysmic ecstasy.
Cord cradled his face in the warm softness of her pussy. He
panted his exhaustion along with her heaving breath, and then
removed his finger and crawled over to find her lips with his.
She could feel the stickiness of her fluids on his cheeks, and
then he smiled and said softly, "Rest, Mrs. Slater. Then do it to
me. Then suck my cock like I just sucked your cunt."
She nodded her head gently in agreement and dove her tongue
deep into his mouth in silent appreciation for the indescribable
journey he had taken her on.
* * *
Roger had let Cindy lower him to the couch, squirming her hot
body beneath him provocatively. He had wanted to go to another
room so he could see her nakedness in private, but she had not
waited, and uncaring that her husband or his wife were on the
other side of the couch, she had wantonly stripped her panty-hose
from beneath her short dress, and then unbuckled Roger's trousers
hurriedly. His head whirled from the champagne and from the heady
aroma of her musk. Damn, but she was hot! he thought. Hot and
ready!
She took his hand and guided it to the softness of her
vagina, rubbing his palm into the crinkly pubic hair. The pungent
aroma of her pussy was so strong that it wafted like thick perfume
in Roger's nostrils. It has jasmine, sweet jasmine.
"Finger me!" she groaned, wrapping her hands in the wiry hair
around his cock, tantalizing the blood-hardened member with
stroking nearness. It leapt to meet her invading fingers, but as
it touched them, they pulled away teasingly.
Roger obeyed her command, his fingers probing the gentle
entrance of her cunt and hardening her little clitoris, making it
stand up from where it snuggled on the folds of her labia. It
gave him a vast sense of power to see how she wriggled and
squirmed under his ministrations, and he pressed harder, pulling
the ragged slit of her vagina open wide and rubbing up and down
her moist crotch abandonedly.
Cindy began to stroke his burgeoning penis more erotically,
and finally Roger could stand it no longer. His cock throbbed
like some thundering stallion, and he grabbed her legs and drew
himself on top of her, his rigid, palpitating member brushing
against her pubic hair and slithering along her soaked cunt slit.
"Oh yes, now I want you ... now, now!" she gasped, splaying
her legs as far apart as she could get them. She dropped one leg
to the floor and arched the other over the rim of the couch. Roger
looked down between their bodies, staring with hungry mouth wide
at the upturned magnificence of her open pink furrow. She lurched
upward in a spasmodic urge to hurry his cock into her. She groped
between her legs, finding the jerky blunt head of his prick so
that she could place the fleshy hugeness of his hardened cock into
the full length of her open, quivering hold. Her tightly closed
hands caressed it tenderly, reverently, and she steered it up to
the cave of her vagina, never letting it lose touch with her
boiling flesh. Already it was convulsing and the viscid milk
oozed from its lust-filled opening. She held it in place, and
then with her other hand pushed against Roger's buttocks. His
mighty weapon thrust itself deep within her, quelling only a
portion of the gnawing heat which was consuming her insatiable
slit.
He began to pump, his long, grinding strokes bringing noises
from Cindy like those of a mewling kitten searching for milk.
Then, dimly, he heard another sound, gasps as though a woman were
in intense pain. He was half-tempted to raise his head and see
what it was, but the force of Cindy's animalistic mating was too
great; he sank to her, drubbing her thighs with his powerful
batterings.
"OOOOOooooohhhhhh!" he heard in a husky woman's gurgle.
"That's what I like! Yes, yes, yessssss ...!"
Roger froze involuntarily as he recognized his wife's voice.
He couldn't comprehend it for a long moment, until he was shocked
back into reality by Cindy's pleading demand: "Keep fucking,
Roger, goddamn it, keep fucking!"
There were other, softer murmurs and then: "AGGGGGHHHH! It
hurts!"
Diane was really getting it! He was wildly excited by the
though of his wife's lust, and by Cindy's mad undulations. He
felt his cock throbbing and aching in Cindy's sopping wet vagina,
and his testicles felt swollen and angry with his rapidly building
cum.
He heard his young wife's voice gasp, "Oh God, I can't take
it!" and then the spiraling shriek of her inner soul as she
reached her climax. Then there was silence, save for the rustling
of clothes and the panting of commingled breaths.
Cindy heaved against him, making Roger lose interest in his
wife's actions again. He bent to the task of fucking Cindy,
slamming his mammoth penis to the hilt, hitting her cervix with
increasing pressure, his cock ripping away at her enclosing grasp
with overwhelming desire.
Then suddenly there was a groan from Cord's lips as though he
had been stabbed, and a voice cut through the air like a knife.
"Ooohh, Diane! Your mouth is like butter!"
The meaning of those words was all too clear. Roger gyrated
in Cindy's cunt, his eyes clenched shut in a futile attempt to
blot out the horrible picture of his wife's sweet lips slipping
over Marc's obscene, glistening penis. The ultimate torture of
fucking a woman while your own is sucking another man overwhelmed
him. His mind drew a thousand pictures, and unheeding the panting
demands of Cindy, he withdrew his cock and raised himself up and
peeked over the edge of the couch.
"Don't leave me, Roger!" squealed Cindy, clutching at him.
"For God's sake, don't leave me!" She tried to pry his fingers
from the couch, but to no avail. Roger's eyes were fastened
almost mesmerically on the lewd scene before him.
The sight of Cord's hard shaft completely absorbed between
his wife's ovalled lips increased his sexual appetite a
hundredfold. Diane was massaging the soft resilient skin of
Marc's testicles and she swallowed continually, her throat muscles
milking his prick. Her tongue laved the underside of his prick
while its tip taunted the base and a portion of his sperm-bloated
balls. The look on Cord's face told Roger he was experiencing the
ultimate of pleasurable fermenations.
Diane hummed and purred hungrily, Marc's heavy and throbbing
penis vibrating and reaching from her throat. She waggled her
hips provocatively, totally absorbed in her wanton task.
"Suck harder!" he heard Cord groan through passion-clenched
teeth. Diane tightened her lips and bobbed yet faster, the cock
buried deep in her mouth.
"That's what you want, is it?" Cindy whispered next to him.
"You want to watch? Well, goddamn it, then let's watch!"
Cindy suddenly jerked upwards, pushing Roger away. He
staggered to his feet, unsure of what she was doing, and she took
him by his still erect penis, hands clasping the turgid rod like a
walking stick, and led him around the couch. She guided him to a
spot beside his wife, and then pulled him to the rug. His eyes
rested on the lewd, obscene performance in front of him. God,
she's hot! he thought, and his aching penis throbbed in
anticipatory lust of resuming his fucking of Cindy. The abysmal,
lascivious thought of fucking in front of Diane while another man
pumped her convulted mouth with his huge sperm bloated cock
overcame him, and he slipped his hands around Cindy's waiting
buttocks and lowered her to his waiting prick. She impaled
herself with a mighty groan, committing sexual hara-kiri with
utter abandonment. He gasped as Cindy, riding his gigantic,
throbbing cock, reached behind her and gently enfolded his
testicles with her fingers, and then leaned forward, making his
prick scrape her inner cunt walls. She moved up and down, her
soft pubic hair parting and then folding inwards as she slid down
his lubricated pole. Her pussy clasped him like a well-fitting
glove. He let his hips move off the rug, and with a groan which
started in his belly, he rammed forward, burrowing his cock deeper
still into Cindy's clasping pussy, flooding into the kneeling
woman like a great tide that tore and burst everything in its
path.
Roger still gazed upon his wife as he shattered Cindy's
stretched and open cunt. He groaned with the doubled ecstasy of
fucking and seeing Diane trapped between Cord's legs. The man
thrust his cock mercilessly into her mouth, forcing her sucking,
fish-like lips apart with each upward jerk until almost all his
rigid flesh was swallowed by her working concave-convex cheeks.
Her long, disheveled blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders to
pool on his belly, and her firm, white breasts danced and shook
below her heaving chest as though they had a life of their own.
Unconsciously he began to imitate his wife's rhythm as the
tempo increased, and his cock throbbed inside Cord's wife's
burning pussy, her soft moistness unbearable. Wilder and wilder
the two couples became, their beat regulated by the rhythm of
Diane's swirling tongue around Cord's near exploding cock.
And then ... a deep, half-human cry erupted from Cord and he
locked his hands around the back of Diane's bobbing head, driving
his cock so deep into her throat that Roger could no longer see
any of it protrude from his wife's wet and glistening lips. Her
wild sucking changed to great desperate, gulping swallows as Cord
spewed huge quantities of hot, white semen into her mouth. Some
dribbled from her tightly clasping lips in spite of her efforts to
consume it all, running in rivulets down her chin and neck. She
swallowed and reswallowed, hollowing and then bloating her
engorged cheeks. Christ, Roger thought, that man must have a
hollow leg full of cum!
At the same time he could feel a gush of warmth around his
own cock as Cindy groaned out her release. Her juices began to
flow out from around his deeply imbedded cock and down into the
softness of his testicles. He clenched his eyes shut and felt his
balls erupt wildly. It was as if hot lightening started to ride
up his scrotum and leap down his shaft, and his sperm shot like
water from a faucet up into Cindy's palpitating belly. He thrust
upwards as far as he was able, spewing out his load, grinding his
pelvis against her pussy without mercy.
Diane whimpered, her own orgasm having been released with the
saltine taste of Cord's cum. She moved her head, Marc's deflated
cock slipping wetly from her mouth, and Roger could see the thin
sticky cords of his hot sperm still connecting her face to the
warm throbbing head even though they were now inches apart. Her
breathing was heavy and she groaned and then she collapsed
sideways, her body a limp doll, held in place only by the inner
thighs of Cord's still raised legs.
Roger strained and emptied the last of his cum deep into
Cindy and then released his hands from her. She slithered forward
and lay across his chest, her legs still bent at his hips. He
turned his head and smiled at his wife, smiled at her lovingly,
completely at ease with the satiation of mutual orgasm. She
returned his smile, thin trails of sperm still visible around her
ruby lips.
Later the four of them performed other wild and abandoned
acts, with Cord directing them like a Hollywood film maker. The
evening faded into a mass of tangled legs, breasts, cocks, and
cunts. When Roger and Diane finally bid their farewell early the
next morning, they both realized they had passed the point of no
return. They had been initiated and accepted. They were full-
fledged members of the cult now, for better or for worse...
Chapter 7
On a warm, balmy Friday, two months after that wild,
orgiastic evening at the Cords', Diane was reading a magazine in
the living room of their duplex and thinking about Roger.
He was now the full-fledged General Office Manager of Marc
Cord's section at Waller, Waller, Crist and Maxwell--the former
manager, Drake, having now retired. According to Marc, he was
doing extremely well and very much in line for a substantial raise
in his present two thousand dollar monthly salary.
Diane couldn't have been happier--for Roger, and for herself.
They had been pricing homes in San Bruno, a few miles south of San
Francisco, for two weeks now, and Roger was negotiating with a
real estate man for a beautiful piece of property that had a
magnificent view of the Bay Area, which they had seen high in the
winding foothills near Skyline Boulevard. If things went
according to schedule, and if the proper financial arrangements
were satisfactorily worked out, they would be moving into that
sumptuous home within the month. Too, Roger had told her that as
soon as they completed the deal, he would buy her a car of her
own, perhaps a little sports model, and a new and fancy Detroit
model for himself.
Yes, things were on a skyrocketing upswing now. Everything
was going just beautifully. She and Roger were now making love at
least once a night, and experiencing new and wild joys each and
every time. Why, only the other evening they had 69'd for three
solid hours; Roger's tongue had sent her whirling to incalculable
orgasms during that time, while she had sucked and milked his
prick of sticky, hot, delicious loads of sperm three times, never
allowing that marvelous cock of his to escape her lips ... even
when it had deflated, she continued to nibble and suckle it until
it once more grew to its monstrous proportions in the cushiony-
soft folds of her mouth.
They were still seeing the Cords, too, once and twice each
week. Her sessions with Marc, and Roger's with Cindy, heightened
their sexual satisfaction in one another. Diane never ceased to
be amazed at her own sensual abandonment, as the excitement she
felt at watching Roger kissing Cindy's vagina not a foot away from
her eyes, at sucking Marc's great male cock with her eyes open
wide and staring salaciously into Rogers. It was almost as if she
couldn't get enough of Marc's and Roger's cocks, as if her mouth
and cunt had become totally insatiable. Whereas before she had
lived in dread of fucking, she now lived purely for fucking. And
she had never enjoyed the fruits of life more.
Diane turned the pages of the magazine idly. It was almost
one o'clock now, and she would have to begin the preparations for
supper before long. She was having a special dinner for Roger--
crablegs made with mushrooms and sour cream and wine--not for any
special reason, just because she loved him. Of course, she didn't
feel much like going through the prosaic chores of cooking on this
warm afternoon; what she really felt like doing...
The doorbell began to chime.
Now who can that be? Diane wondered, rising. I hope it's
Mr. Comstock. He doesn't know we'll be leaving yet, and I want
the pleasure of telling him what he can do with this under-heated
crumbling old place. She went to the door and opened it.
Marc Cord stood on the small porch outside. With him was a
short, shubby man of about forty, with a bald pate and dark brown
eyes. The man was grinning to begin with, and when he saw the
lush, full curves of Diane's skirt-and-sweater draped body, the
grin widened and became hot and lewd.
Cord said, "Hi, kitten.--"
"Marc," she said. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted you to meet a friend of mine," he told her. "Diane
Slater, this is Ed Blake. He's out of our Los Angeles office,
Diane."
"Hiya, Mrs. Slater," Blake said, boldly undressing her with
his hot, fevered eyes. "This is indeed a pleasure."
She squirmed slightly under his gaze, deciding that she
didn't like him at all. Why had Marc brought him around here,
anyway? She said, "How do you do?" in a cool voice, and then
looked at Cord.
He said, "Aren't you going to invite us in?"
"Well ... yes, all right." She stood aside, letting them
pass by her. Blake's hand came in contact with the smooth curve
of her buttocks, seemed to linger there for a moment, and then he
was past her. She didn't think his touching her like that was an
accident, and she shivered slightly.
She closed the door and turned to the two men. "Can I offer
you something?" she asked.
"Yeah," Blake said, grinning obscenely. "How about a little
piece of you."
She glared at him. "I don't think that's particularly funny,
Mr. Blake," she said icily.
"Hey, take it easy, kitten," Cord soothed. "Ed likes to kid
around, that's all."
"Well, I don't like it," she said. "Was there something
special you wanted, Marc, or is this visit purely social?"
"Just to tell you Cindy and I are having a little party
tomorrow night," he said, grinning, "For special friends only, if
you know what I mean."
Diane frowned. "No, I don't." She lied, embarrassed in
front of the stranger.
"You and Roger just come on over around nine. I don't think
you'll be disappointed in the ... ah ... entertainment."
"Well ... all right. If Roger hasn't anything else planned."
"Oh, he hasn't," Cord chuckled. "I talked to him about it
this morning." He looked at Blake, then. "Why don't you have a
seat, Ed? I think I could use a drink. How about you,"
"Sounds good," Blake said.
"Have you got anything here?" Cord asked Diane.
"Just some bourbon."
"Fine. Will you make us a couple of belts?"
"All right."
She turned and went through the door into the kitchen. She
was at the sink, taking glasses down from the overhead cupboard,
when Cord came into the room. He moved up close behind her, as
she was stretched on tiptoe reaching for the tumblers, and pressed
his loins against the curving, rounded moons of her buttocks. He
let his hands slide around her waist and then come up to cup the
full, erect mounds of her breasts, kneading them gently.
"Hi, baby," he whispered against her soft, sweetly-smelling
hair.
She felt herself shiver at the touch of his hands and body on
her. She couldn't help it; every time she was around Marc Cord,
the only thing she could think about was sex. Her body reacted
accordingly, sending ripples of pleasure, of desire, swirling
along her flesh.
She took the glasses down and put them on the drainboard, but
made no move to step out of his embrace. He continued to massage
her breasts, pressuring the soft, resilient flesh and the erect
buds of her ruby nipples. She could feel his rapidly inflating
cock grind against the perfectly rounded globes of her ass, and
tremors of flaming lust eddied deep in the core of her stomach.
"Damn you, Marc!" she breathed between tightly clenched
teeth, her eyes closed as she yielded her body to the delicious
manipulations of his fingers and pelvis. "Why do you have to
torture us like this? You know I can't resist you, and you know
just as well that we can't do anything about it now."
"Why not, kitten?" he hissed into her ear.
Her hips were beginning to rotate in time with his as his
hands moved down now, to slide under the sweater and stroke the
soft flatness of her belly, the tips of his fingers dipping
tantalizingly into the waistband of her skirt. She managed,
"Because ... because of your ... friend, Mr. Blake ... ummmmmmm!
.... out there, oh God, Marc ... you've got me so hot I think I'm
... I'm going to explode!"
"Never mind Mr. Blake," Cord whispered, sliding his hand
still deeper inside her skirt and now inside her panties,
caressing the soft fleece of her pubic mound. "Come on, Diane
baby, I want you to suck my cock. I want to put my big, hot prick
in your mouth and feel you lick it with your tongue."
His obscene words drove all thoughts of caution from Diane's
mind, casting propriety to the wind. Her cunt was dripping
anticipatory fluid now, and the palm of his hand was rubbing
gently over her pubic area, the tip of his forefinger searching
for, and finding, the tiny, oscillating tip of her moist, nestled
clitoris. God, I want him! she thought to herself, I want to suck
him, just as he said, feel his huge cock sawing in and out of my
mouth! I don't care about anything else in the whole wide,
infinite universe except Marc Cord's great, lust-inflamed, blue-
veined cock!
"Oh ... yes, Marc ... yes, yes! I want to suck you, now,
right now!"
She turned to face him, pressing herself to him, feeling the
heat of his hand between them as he continued to stroke her
clitoris with maddening, frenzied circles. She put her tongue in
his mouth and then bit his lip, gently, still grinding her hips
against his harder and faster and she felt the ebbing whirlpools
of lust seethe uncontrollably inside her.
"In ... in the bedroom!" Cord groaned. "Come on ... baby, in
the bedroom!"
Obediently, still clinging to him, with his hand still
insinuated inside the waistband of her skirt, she allowed Marc to
lead her through the kitchen door, along the short hallway into
the bedroom. There, he took his hand away and kissed her long and
hard, darting his tongue wildly inside her mouth to swirl against
hers, their saliva mixing and blending and flowing in thin
rivulets from the corners of Diane's widely-parted red lips. Then
he stepped back away from her and tore at the belt of his suit
trousers with one hand, using the other to shrug out of his coat.
"Get naked, baby!" he ordered. "Now; hurry, hurry!"
She pulled and tore at her binding garments, her mind
mesmeric with lust, her eyes staring hungrily at the bulging front
of Cord's now-exposed shorts. And then she was naked, and Marc's
gigantic tool, hot and throbbing and angrily purplish, was swaying
back and forth in anticipation before her. Not bothering to
remove his shirt or tie, but stepping out of his shorts and
trousers, Cord fell back on the bed, spreading his legs and thighs
wide to allow room for her to kneel between them. Quickly, wild
with seething emotions, she took advantage of his mute offer and
knelt there, her knees touching the hirsute flesh of his legs.
She lowered her head, her eyes feasting on her target, her lips
parting expectantly, tongue moistening their dewy softness. Her
left hand came up to stroke tenderly his wrinkled scrotum, massage
the base of his mighty prick, and then encircle it in her hand.
Suddenly, her head darted down and her famished, wet mouth seized
what it wanted and needed, the only nourishment it cared about at
that moment. She began to suck him slowly, agonizingly,
maddeningly, running her tongue wetly around and around the slimy,
salty, lubricated head and licking the tip teasingly into the tiny
open slit of the moist gland until she could feel it throbbing as
if it had a life of its own and would gush forward at any second a
great, never-ending fountain of creamy white cum.
Her head bobbed up and down slavishly over the thick shaft of
flesh now, sucking harder, her tongue swirling faster, and Cord's
buttocks twisted wildly on the bedspread. His hands wrapped
themselves in the soft, silky strands of her hair, pushing her
head down over his gigantic column. Diane could feel its dripping
head batter against the back of her throat, but she made no move
to alleviate the intense ramming pressure there, allowing her lips
to suckle maddeningly, convoluting as she strove to draw the very
essence of his being along the passage of his great, purplish,
monstrous cock.
Suddenly, Diane heard a sound--the sound of the bedroom door
opening!
Her eyes flew open, and from her position with her mouth
almost completely engulfing Cord's prick on the bed she was able
to see the doorway clearly. There, framed in the arch, was Ed
Blake. He was completely nude, the short, rigid, chunky length of
his thick cock standing obscenely from the thick curling bristles
of his pubic hair. His flesh was milky white, unhealthy, and his
soft, doughy belly hung saggingly over his abdomen. His eyes were
wild with uncontrolled, animalistic passion, and his lips were
skinned back over his teeth in a snarl of salacious delight.
Ripples of horror flashed through Diane's body. She tried to
pull her head up from Cord's loins, to release his giant pole from
her mouth, but Marc's hands were still entangled in her hair and
she couldn't move. She could only stare in terror as Blake
advanced slowly, his eyes on the stretched moons of Diane's
swaying upraised buttocks. He was holding his hardened cock in
his hand now, like some nightmare general heading forth to do
battle.
Diane tried to cry out, but Cord held her firm. "It's all
right, baby," he crooned. "Just relax, now; just relax and enjoy
it!"
Enjoy it? Diane thought, frightened. What was the matter
with Marc? Had ... he brought this filthy slug of a man Ed Blake
here with this explicit purpose in mind? Had he caressed her and
stroked her in the kitchen, getting her hot, just so she would do
his bidding and suck him--with her quivering ass stretched
skyward, naked and defenseless, waiting for Blake to come in and
... Oh, God, oh God! Oh no, not that! That was one thing she had
never allowed Marc or Roger to do, take her anally; her rectum was
virginal, and she wanted it to stay that way ... Oh dear God, she
couldn't allow her bowels to be raped, she couldn't ... and yet,
there was nothing she could do about it, nothing at all...
Blake had reached her now, his teeth still bared. Diane felt,
then, the terrible viscid touch of his sausage-like fingers on her
palpitating hips, spreading them wide, opening the tiny puckered
hole of her anus to his lustful gaze. She tried to twist away,
but Cord flexed his hips and drove his huge rod deep against her
larynx again, impaling her above him. And then she felt the hard,
rubbery head of Blake's thick cock press against her naked rectal
opening, tease along it there, poise at the tiny wrinkled ring.
No, no, no, no! her mind screamed. Please, no, God nooooooo!
With brutal, sadistic lust, Blake suddenly rammed forward,
his cock soaring into her tightly virginal asshole with savage,
unmerciful force, never stopping as it tore through the membranous
passage like some terrible ravaging machine.
"AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!" she screamed around Cord's prick. The
cry changed to strangled gasps as Cord again flexed his buttocks
to drive his invading cock deeper into the softness of her mouth.
"Goddamn ... Cord, her asshole's a cherry, sure as hell! ...
Christ, I didn't expect to get me a virgin on this deal!"
"Shut up ... you bastard!" Cord panted. And then to Diane,
"Come on, honey, it's ... all right. I'm sorry I ... had to do it
this way but ... Christ, it's business and Cindy's away until
tomorrow ... Just relax, honey, and you'll find out you like it.
You'll thank me for it ... afterwards."
She tried to scream out to him, but his big cock in her mouth
forced the words to die in her throat. Her face was contorted not
only in agony, but in the shame and humiliation of a complete
stranger's insane and lewd prick defiling her defenseless anus.
He clutched savagely at her hips and thrust his thick cock deeper
into her rectum, into the warm, forbidden depths of her passage.
The pressure of his straining thighs thrust her forward, thrust
her head down lower on Cord's hairy belly, pushing his cock deeper
still into her mouth.
"Aaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhhh!" she cried out again.
"Come on, baby!" Cord encouraged. "Keep sucking me, keep
sucking me!"
Involuntarily, almost defensively, her lips began nibbling at
the huge, fleshy surface of his bloated cock, tasting on her
tongue the dribbling seminal fluid which escaped the tiny glans
opening. Behind her, Blake was thrusting forward with great
sawing strokes, making bestial sounds deep in the fat recesses of
his throat as his fleshy rod continued its forward invasion,
pushing the rubbery, resistant flesh before it until finally, with
one last lunge that flattened his loins against her sweat-slick
buttocks, he had sunk every last thick inch of his cock into her
warm, constricting anus.
Her mouth worked harder and faster on Cord's prick now,
suckling it wildly. His hips churned and rotated abandonedly on
the bed, his fingers working convulsively in her hair as the
moment of his building orgasm drew near. Blake's balls smacked
loudly against the wet, drooling lips of Diane's vaginal orifice
below as his loins ground mercilessly against her full, firm ass
cheeks. Then he drew his wide rod out slightly, watching with
bated breath as the wet base appeared before his eyes, the head
still sunk between the wide, tight-stretched oval opening. He
moaned, and thrust inward again, his breath coming faster. A gasp
of total lust escaped his throat, and he began sawing rhythmically
in and out, deep down into the warm clasping channel.
And in that moment, the pain and the terror and the
humiliation began to leave Diane's body and mind, to be replaced
with something else, something far more base: sexual arousal. Her
hips began to grind backward as her anal passage grew accustomed
to the turgid pole imbedded there, and she was suddenly,
wonderfully, reveling in the lewd sodomizing of her asshole. Her
head was flailing from side to side, her lips wildly sucking on
Cord's prick as her jerking head bent it maddeningly from side to
side. Oh God, she thought, Oh God, I do like it, Marc was right,
I do like it, I like that ugly man's cock in my asshole, I like
Marc's prick in my mouth, oh God I never dreamed anything this
perverted could feel so wonderful and good...
Then she was buffeting back against Blake's driving cock like
a rutting animal, as she felt the first tentative waves of her
climax seize hold of her. Her lips swirled faster and faster and
faster up and down, around and around, the near-exploding hardness
of Cord's prick. She was mewling in total pleasure, letting her
own cum build in direct cadence with Cord's and with Blake's,
knowing it wouldn't be long now, wouldn't be long...
Blake gave a sudden, high-pitched squeal and his pummeling
shaft drove forward even harder, working demon-like with its long,
brutal strokes into her rectum. "I'm ... I'm going to ... to
ccccuuuuuuummmmmmmm!" he yelped.
"Oh Jesus ... yes, mee ... mee too!" Cord cried out, his body
twisting and thrashing beneath Diane's madly sucking lips.
Oh God, and so ... so am I! Diane's brain screamed.
Oooooohhhhhh, yesssssss, I'm ... cumming too ...
cumminnnnnnnnggggggggggg, too. Aaaaaaaggghhhhh!
She felt as if Blake's cock were rammed all the way through
her body up to her throat as he jerked convulsively behind her. A
great, burning surge of hot, swirling semen flooded deep, deep
into her rectum as he continued to howl in orgiastic rapture. The
hot liquid filled her belly, filled her quivering insides ... and
then there was more of the torrential fluid spasming up from the
opening in Cord's cock, pouring into her throat, filling her
mouth, almost choking her as he shot stream after stream of warm,
hot seed from deep in his churning balls...
Diane's own climax happened then, a wild, intense release
that exploded her juices simultaneously with the eruptions of Cord
and Blake, and she felt their semen and her fluid rushing to
commingle in her stomach--flowing down from her mouth and down
from her anus, and up from her seething cunt, to become one
together in the pit of her belly. In that moment, she went a
little insane with rapture and she knew nothing but bliss
incomparable for long mindless, soulless minutes as two cocks
drained in two of her bodily orifices and flowing lubrication
dripped from a third.
Later, much later, after Cord and Blake had bid her good-bye,
Diane lay nude and unmoving on the bed. She felt warmly
lethargic, completely fulfilled--and yes, without shame of any
kind. What was the use of self-deception? It served no purpose,
did it? She had truly, undeniably reveled in the lewd, salacious
rape of her virginal rectum by the fat, repulsive Ed Blake while
she had milked Marc Cord's hot, throbbing prick with her mouth.
The perverted seance á trois she had participated in had excited
her into an orgasm of her own unequalled in total abandonment.
God, it had been so good, so wonderful! And she wanted it to
happen again, and again, and again.
Gone now, completely gone, were all her inhibitions, her
prudish moral outlooks. She had become a woman of the flesh,
living for physical gratification and no more, for nothing else
was important except the beauteous, satiated feelings which now
flowed through her like warm claret. She knew what her own
personal Nirvana was, and she was there at that very moment...
Languorously, Diane stretched her arms over her head. She
found herself thinking about Marc's invitation to his and Cindy's
party the following evening, and his rather obvious hints as to
just what type of party it would be. Yes, she was almost certain
what would happen at the Cord's tomorrow night: wife-swapping at
its ultimate, The Big Time, not just her and Roger and Marc and
Cindy, but other couples as well; who knew how many? Where
partners were freely exchanged, and every conceivable sort of
abnormal sexual deviation was practiced. There was no doubt in
her mind that this was what lay in store for her, and for Roger,
if they decided to accept Marc Cord's invitation. And she knew,
after what had just happened between her and Marc Cord and the
stranger Ed Blake, that she was looking forward to whatever lewd
perversions tomorrow night would bring. Looking forward to them
eagerly, like a child looks forward to Christmas.
Unless she was very badly mistaken, she thought that Roger
would be looking forward to them, too, for he surely knew just as
she did what type of party it would be.
When Roger came home later that day, and they talked about
it, she discovered that she was right on both counts.
* * *
Roger and Diane arrived at the Cords' Peacock Gap home at a
few minutes past nine Saturday night.
Diane wore only a simple, clinging shift, without bra and
panties, and her husband wore as little as possible. The air in
the car on the ride over was charged with electric anticipation of
what the evening was to bring. They hadn't spoken much, had
simply sat with their thighs touching and hands clasping as Roger
drove.
Marc opened the door to their ring, and Diane's eyes widened
when she saw that he was completely nude. His fleshy shaft was
rigid, throbbing slightly as it stood out from his abdomen like a
giant steel bar. She looked at it, fascinated as always by its
immensity; she moistened her lips. Cord had a martini in one
hand, and from the crooked leer on his face Diane knew that he had
been drinking for some time.
"C'mon in, kids!" he enthused, pulling the door open and
waving them in. "Party's going good, now. Damned good, s'matter
of fact."
They followed him inside. It was dark in the large living
room, with only indirect ceiling lights to illuminate the dimness.
Diane saw that there were a lot of ornate Chinese lanterns in a
variety of colors decorating the ceiling. There were three
couples in the room, all nude. Two of the couples were dancing to
soft music from some hidden stereo, and both men had stiffened
cocks. On the couch, another man was lying with his lips pressed
between the widespread thighs of a red-haired girl; she was
massaging his prick rhythmically as he licked the softness of her
cunt.
Diane felt aroused sensations churn through her at the lewd
sight, and then Cord grabbed her and pulled her up tight against
his erect cock, rubbing it along her belly through the thin
material of her shift. She shuddered, beginning to move her own
pelvis in time to his rotations.
"Some party, eh, kitten?" he whispered in her ear. "But you
already guessed what it'd be, didn't you?"
"Yes, Marc, I guessed."
He laughed. "Well, c'mon, get with it. Get outta those
clothes and let it all hang out!"
He released her, and Diane--with no trace of guilt or shame
now--quickly took off the shift to expose her own trembling
nakedness. She saw that Roger did the same, tossing his clothes
along with hers onto a large pile of garments by the door. Cord
drank in Diane's beauty with his eyes, licked his lips, and then
waved Roger and her out onto the sun porch.
Cindy was making drinks at the bar, and she squealed when she
saw Roger and rushed toward him, her naked breasts bobbing wildly.
She kissed him hotly and took his hand and pressed it down to her
moist cunt, taking his middle finger and insinuating it into her
pulsating slit. "Glad you came, honey," she breathed heavily in a
drunken drawl.
Cord fixed Roger and Diane a drink. In the doorway, he
pointed to one of the dancing couples--a tall, gray-haired man and
a tiny, brunette with huge, swaying breasts--and said, "That's
Randall Anderson and his wife, Shirley. He's a bigwig with a bank
in San Francisco." Then he indicated the second couple, a medium-
sized man with a straggly black beard and a lithe blonde girl with
a huge bushy pubic triangle, as a prominent San Rafael physician,
Doctor Ron Hilton and Isabel Ziniwall. The red-haired girl who
was having her cunt licked on the couch turned out to be Jolene
Hilton, the doctor's wife; the man was Reg Wilcox, a local real
estate agent. There was one other couple present: Isabel
Ziniwall's husband, Norman, who was a copywriter for a San
Francisco advertising agency, and Wilcox's wife, Patti, a pert
black-haired woman with curvaceously slim legs. They were lying
near the pool, caressing one another, and Ziniwall's lips were
locked over the turgid nipple of her right breast while her hand
stroked his long, thin cock and toyed with his swelling balls.
Marc, the introductions and amenities having been performed,
then left Roger and Diane to move into the living room. He
stepped up to the dancing Anderson couple, whirled Shirley away
from her husband, and backed her up against one wall. He lifted
her right leg with one and used the other to guide his huge, blue-
veined cock into the wide, soft slit between her legs, and then
rammed his great weapon home. Shirley Anderson gasped with
delight, and began to use the wall as a springboard for her hips
and she fucked back against his burgeoning tool with long, easy
strokes.
Cindy pulled Roger into the other room, intending to usurp
Jolene Hilton and Reg Wilcox from their positions on the couch;
but before she could, Doctor Hilton left Isabel and grabbed Cindy
and pulled her down onto the soft buff carpet. He began forcing
his hard, leaking cock against her lips. She didn't resist,
opening her lips wide to accept his invading monster, nibbling at
it gently and hungrily. Roger knelt beside them, and Cindy
reached out and grasped his own erect penis and began to stroke it
lightly as she sucked the doctor's rod, he straddling her breasts.
Diane was left all alone.
But not for long.
Chapter 8
Diane felt warm and sensitive all over, and her pussy was
secreting the fluids of her desire down her inner thighs. She
knew that with all this going on around her she was going to be
fucked and fucked hard very quickly...
Suddenly soft hands wrapped around her, squeezing her breasts
from behind, fingers roughly kneading the nipples. Diane looked
down, surprised. She had wanted Marc first, but saw her nipples
grow hard and erect under the pressure. Someone kissed her on the
neck, on the shoulders. And she shivered as she turned and
recognized the man as the sneaky looking Randall Anderson. He
smiled crookedly at her, running his fingers from her breasts down
to the pink, dilating cunt lips of her inflamed crotch. She
groaned in protest at the sudden, familiar contact, but in spite
of her revulsion she didn't try to stop him or pull away.
She looked down at his cock, which was fully erect and
pressing against her belly like some conqueror's standard. Her
face contorted with a slight revulsion at its sight, for Randall's
member wasn't the beautiful thing Roger's or Marc's were; his was
monstrous and webbed all along the shaft with heavy, throbbing
blue veins, giving grim advance warning of the lustful state he
was in.
"Like it, honey?" Randall grinned lopsidedly at her.
She tried to answer, but her voice seemed caught in her
throat. "Yes, yes, I like it," she finally managed, knowing he
was going to get it from her anyway.
"Good, because I'm going to put it up your cunt like a
ramrod. It's going to go so far in that you'll be able to taste
it all the way up in your throat," he said, his grin turning to a
full smile of overwhelming lust.
Randall pressed against her then, forcing Diane back against
the porch's tweed couch. She dropped to it, sitting with her legs
together, staring fearful up at Randall, who looked down at her
with eyes like fiery coals. His long cock had rarely ached as it
did now, and he lowered himself to her, pushing her back, his face
pressed in the soft, clean odor of her long blonde hair.
"Spread your legs, honey. I can't fuck you with them
together." He thought that was funny and he laughed, his knees
slowly and relentlessly forcing her legs apart, her toes hanging
over the edge as she adjusted herself to his body. She gave up
all thought of modesty or of caring whether she truly desired this
man, knowing that resistance would be futile. A soft moan escaped
her lips as she felt the hardness of his huge, bloated cock make
warm, wet contact with the soft inner flesh of her thighs.
Randall moved forward, insinuating the full length of his member
along the narrow, wide-stretched crevice of her crotch, her
shoulders pinned to the cushions, her buttocks squirming and
twisting beneath him, inciting his lust to the fullest.
"No, wait!" Randall said suddenly. "I want you in the ass!
Yeah, that's it. I want to shove my prick in your sweet little
asshole. Turn over!"
Diane stiffened and a faint dizziness overtook her, making
her gulp desperately for air.
"Go on, turn over!"
She moved slowly, unsurely, but did as he bid, tears of
frustration and anger beginning to well up in her eyes. There was
no escape. There was only the rigid dripping cock of the thin
little man behind her, and it was quivering with the anticipation
of the salacious attack it was about to render.
Randall's hand pulled her hips up off the couch, while his
other hand steadied her back, pressing her head to the cushion.
Her buttocks waved defenselessly in the air, and for a moment
Diane tried to press forward and drop them from their lewd height,
but he pushed her neck down. Diane gave up any struggle. Her
body was a helpless toy for this man to use in his animalistic
quest for satisfaction ... satisfaction that would only cease when
he had shot his load of hot steamy desire deep within her soft,
resilient body.
Randall gaped at the ivory moons of her cream-white buttocks
as they stretched before him like a sacrifice to uncontrolled
lasciviousness. God, he had never seen anything like it before!
His balls tingled and he hardly could wait to feel her squirm and
cry beneath him; the thought sent sensations of desire racing
through his groin like an electrical charge.
He ground the head of his huge, purplish cock along the
narrow valley of her defenseless ass, pressing the soft cheeks
around it like a quivering sandwich of flesh. Then he leaned
forward and kissed the ridges of her backbone, ran his lips along
the small of her back. Diane groaned slightly and trembled from
the wet contact at both places. He leaned back and dipped his
head, running his long pink tongue up and down the full length of
the crevice, between the globoid cheeks of her soft buttocks.
He dropped still lower, his thumbs on either side of her
straining backside and spread her hillocks until the corded
muscles of her inner thighs slowly relaxed, bit by bit. Diane had
geared her mind for brutality, pain and humiliation. But this was
soft and pleasant and wonderful, and she found that she enjoyed
this man's touch, as different as it was from Marc's or Roger's
ministrations, and the caressing of her inner thighs and buttocks
and his lapping tongue at the door of her bowels made her sigh
with sudden perverted wantonness.
Randall crouched until his face was in line with the blood-
engorged folds of her vagina. As he watched, the red lips
throbbed once and parted of their own volition and he could see
the moistness which was forming on the smooth white sides of her
inner thighs. Diane teasingly eased her rear farther back to him
and spread her legs to open her private parts to his salacious
view.
He moved forward, his face but an inch from the soft pubic
hair which was like a beard around the mouth of her now slippery
cunt and the odor in his nostrils was one of sweetness that
drifted up from her flowering cavern. He breathed hard and blew
softly into her. She groaned and squirmed, the pink, smooth flesh
glistening from her secretions. The lessening of her fear had
been like a release of some great weight upon her mind, and she
sighed, letting Randall's feather-like touch work her into a
sexual frenzy. She felt the rising howl of passion building deep
in her belly, in her very soul.
Then there was a hot, exciting rush of air as he blew between
her spreading globes again. Reflexively she clenched her thighs
together, but then her buttocks relaxed as a feeling of great
enrapturement overtook her. Her behind had never felt so open, so
naked, so wet before, and there were a thousand small furry
animals caressing her sensitive flesh, running over her naked body
gently. She floated on a fleece-covered cloud whose very warmth
belied the presence of danger.
Randall grinned obscenely into the wide crevice of this young
helpless wife's beauteous ass, and the cheeks quivered in front of
his lust-twisted face. He bent forward, prying her wider with his
thumbs until she was unprotected and stationary before him. Then,
with one quick movement, he thrust his tongue forward, deep into
the warm fleshy lips of her vagina. He heard her gasp from the
sudden entry and then with a smothering sigh, she leaned back into
him, her cunt passage contracting and spasming around the long
smoothness of his tongue. Her breath exploded from her mouth and
she gave small gasps and mewling grunts as he began to orally fuck
her, flicking and swirling his tongue crazily around inside her.
She swayed around his face, his nose embedded deep, deep within
the passion-drenched folds of her pulsating young pussy.
Randall worked behind the kneeling Diane, slavering and
plunging with his tongue, making wet, sluicing noises with each
thrust. Her cries turned to one long moan, and he pushed his face
tighter against her expanding crotch and began to suck and tease
it gleefully with his teeth like a greedy, untamed beast.
"Oooooo-hhhhhhhh!" she crooned, her body and mind lost to the
completely uncontrolled sensations of his sucking, and her cunt
flowed and saliva and vaginal lubrication juices mingled and
trickled down her legs. Randall could sense her impending cum by
the wild, abandoned tempo of her thrashing buttocks, and he knew
that it was time to ram his seething cock into the innocent
softness of her rectum. He wanted to have her climax with his
long thick prick inside her belly, and he wanted to explode his
cum into her bowels to the rhythm of her own fulfillment.
He slithered to his knees, aching with anticipation, working
his hips into the glistening wetness of her loins, pressing
himself tightly to the open crack of her ass. He held his
palpitating cock tightly between his fingers, its angry blood-red
head poised mercilessly before the tight elastic opening of her
anus. He taunted her until her whimpers drifted back to him,
running the head insinuatingly around the tiny puckered opening.
Then he introduced the massive head into her saliva-coated
channel, constantly pressuring until its entire length was
submerged by slow, tormenting inches into the depths of her
bowels.
Randall slowly withdrew his prick and then wormed his way
back in, his invading monster ripping away at her entrails. He
could feel his foreskin being peeled back, and he looked down with
crazy delight at her pink-ribbed hole as it puckered around his
massive cock. And he gave a quick, hip-thrusting stab.
"AAAAAGGGggghhh!" she suddenly screamed, trying to pull away.
"It hurts! God, nooooooo! Pleeeez!"
Randall grinned excitedly, held her tight in a bear hug and
rammed his monstrous cock deeper, harder.
"Push back!" he commanded.
"No, no, it's too big!", Her whole body was racked with
agony at his sudden onslaught, and her anal passage felt like some
excavated tunnel basted with huge supports. His vicious penis
surged further, solid and painful, until she had absorbed all of
him, until there was no more.
"Oh, ohhh, ohhhhh!" she groaned, but pushed back she did.
Randall began to saw mercilessly, crooning with delight. Diane
dug her nails into her palm as the pain eased, and she felt
strangely wet and open back between her buttocks. Abruptly she
began to feel a masochistic mixture of pain and joy. She realized
she was beginning to respond, to heave backwards to meet his
forward thrusts, and she undulated her body and moved her mooned
buttocks in tiny circles. "Oh yes, oh yesssss!" she hissed.
"Fuck my ass, fuck my ass!"
He gouged deeper, the pressure on his cock tight and
exhilarating, promising to draw his hot sperm from his balls like
a monstrous vacuuming hose.
Diane reached behind her and stroked his swinging balls as
they slapped against her hair covered cunt lips. She found
enjoyment in the touch of his wrinkled sac and began to work her
thumb against her own clitoris as she caressed him, moving in time
to his buried penis. Her complexion was flushed, and her teeth
were bared back with the tantalizing explosions in her rectal
passage. Her long hair was strewn over the settee like a mad
woman's. Dear God! She was hopelessly, marvelously, madly
impaled!
* * *
"You want to fuck me?" Isabel Ziniwall asked.
"Yes, God, I want to!" Roger answered, the lewd words of the
woman exciting him more.
"Then tell me," she breathed.
"I want to fuck you!"
"Oh God," she moaned. "Fuck me deep and hard, lover man!"
He rose from the pool-side deck chair, where he had gone with
Isabel after leaving Cindy and Dr. Hilton, and stood over her, his
cock standing in naked erection in front of him. She looked up
from her sitting position on the patio and smiled lewdly. "I'm
going to like that inside me, twisting in my cunt." She raised a
searching hand and stroked his blood-soaked shaft. "Oh, God, how
I want you to fuck me!"
He lay down beside her, dragging her over to him, then he
cupped her buttocks with his hands, massaging and kneading the
soft flesh, the warm hole of enchantment buried between her legs.
She was beautifully shaped, her legs and thighs long and sinewy,
and her body was warm and provocative against him. She raised her
face and locked their mouths together as she reached down between
them for his hard penis. Her odor was maddening, a perfume he was
not familiar with but which reminded him dimly of roses. Her lips
were gentle but urgent, a rubbery softness which sent chills
racing along his spine. The firm surface of her teeth yielded to
his exploring tongue.
Suddenly she ground her pelvis tightly to him and pulled him
over on top of her, spreading her thighs and raising her legs in
order to take his lust-stiffened cock inside her. She arched off
the patio and pulled her vaginal lips back with her fingertips so
that her slit lay nakedly exposed to his throbbing cock. She
began to slide up and down the length of him, her soft silky hair
parting for the pulsating head, and then she lurched upwards with
a sudden cruel thrust which impaled her agonizingly on his great
instrument.
"Oooooh!" she moaned beneath him. "Fuck me, fuck me!"
He felt the warm sheath of her hot cunt slip wetly along his
sensitive shaft, and his cock raced to her full depths, battering
against her cervix, her lubrication making wet slurping sounds
which intensified his lust. His balls slapped hard against the
tiny puckered hole of her anus.
Isabel screamed a low, throaty, animal-like cry, pushing and
shoving harder against his groin. He reached under her and
between her buttocks while he drove his rampaging cock into her
pliant cunt, and stretched the crevice of her ass, searching with
his fingertip for her anus. A river of warm fluids ran down her
thighs and buttocks and moistened the tiny ring, lubricating it as
he probed for a moment with his finger. He pushed hard, feeling
it give, and then his finger slid in with a soft plopping sound.
She jumped forward on his sawing cock, almost slithering backward
on her spine.
"Aaaaaaggggg!" she yelled. "It hurts, it hurts! But I want
more! More!" She screwed her buttocks back on his finger. "I
want it, I want all of you!"
Roger felt the thin wall of flesh which separated the
underside of his cock from his skewering finger. He began to
rotate his finger, easing it further into her rectum until his
palm was flat against her soft, pliant ass. She caught the rhythm
and opened her legs yet wider to give him greater access to the
ravishment of her loins. Roger's penis grew and expanded inside
her until she thought it was going to burst from the exquisite
pleasure building in his testicles. His climax wasn't far away,
and with a frenzy he rammed his prick and finger in cadence to one
another, exciting her to newer heights.
"OOOOhhh, fuck it hard ... harrrrdddd!" she gasped,
jackknifing her legs, pressing her knees back hard against her
breasts, her heels pounding high on his back. She mumbled almost
unintelligible obscene words and phrases, her mouth contorted with
the nearing explosion of her orgasm, and her eyes rolled
uncontrollably in her head.
She pulled back her thighs until the whole of her pink
vaginal slit was presented in an offering to his craving cock.
She squirmed beneath him, her crotch in a lewd, pagan dance of
abandoned ecstasy. Then she gave a high-pitched, wild banshee
howl, and she locked her legs around him as her loins jerked
spasmodically against his thighs.
"I'm cuuuuuummmmiiiiinnnngggg!" she yelled, squeezing like a
vise against his cock. It was all he could do to continue
screwing into her. But then he felt the maddened sperm in his
balls rush through his scrotum and charge for release. He groaned
and tensed his body, and the waves of semen gushed from the glans
opening and poured into her wildly sucking pussy in a seemingly
endless flow. Their bodies collapsed together on the patio,
Isabel, little more than a limp rag beneath him, her cunt still
locked tightly around his pumping cock. He lay quiet against her,
allowing for his final draining seeds to dribble forth.
"That was beautiful," she murmured after a time. I haven't
had such a good ride all evening."
Roger deigned to pull his wet hardness from the soft, warm
bed of her pussy. He simply sighed and let it deflate within her.
* * *
"Come on, come on!" Randall groaned to Diane. "Fuck back,
fuck back!"
He dug his hands into her backsides as she bucked beneath his
pillaging Corinthian column. She made indistinct sounds into the
couch cushions with his every forward lunge, and she felt as
though she was being sodomized by a giant gorilla who was
splitting her down the middle with his gargantuan lust-perverted
penis.
Diane could feel him thrusting more sadistically than ever,
the sight of her gyrating body exciting him to greater bestial
strokes into her soft, rubbery depths. Her breath came hot and
ragged and she droned into the cushion, her lips opening and
closing fish-like from the uncontrollable feelings which surged
through her.
Then, suddenly, there was another movement near her head and
she could feel the cushion drop from the weight of someone
descending upon it. Fingers fumbled with her lips and she felt a
wet viscid sponginess being pressed to her mouth. She jerked her
head up and stared at the long, purplish cock directly in front of
her lips. She recalled Marc having said the man there was Dr. Ron
Hilton. He sneered down at her without any physician's
compassion, the bushy beard around his chin quivering with the
lust of her enticing state.
He splayed his legs on either side of her face and lifted her
head with the flat of his hand pushing against her forehead, and
with the other hand he forced his prick into her parting mouth.
He groaned and wormed it past her lipstick rimmed lips, and when
Randall behind gave Diane an extra hard shove in her widespread
anal crevice, she gasped and shot forward, impaling Hilton's thick
cock in the wet warm grotto of her cheeks. She felt his hugeness
slither the full length of her tongue and lodge against the back
of her throat.
Hilton began to screw his cock deep into her mouth, his hands
holding her head, and he quickened his thrusts until he was
fucking her in matched time to the anal rape of Randall's cock. As
he pulled out, he allowed a slight part of the swollen glans to
remain between her lips, but then would ram again deep into the
moist shelter with seething perversion.
"Suck, suck, suck, baby!" he commanded harshly, and her lips
began to nibble hungrily at his thrusting instrument, and his
balls bounced against her chin, the male odor of his groin filling
her flaring nostrils with further depraved desire. He thrust so
deep into the back of her throat his pubic hair brushed against
her face, leaving teasing wet marks from its bristling touch.
Behind her Randall felt himself building toward his climax.
His hands gripped her waist harder and he began to fuck her faster
and faster, battering his loins mercilessly against the quivering
moons of her buttocks. His breath came short, hot, and he mauled
her flaccid cheeks with random movements. He stared down at her
slender body as he battered her asshole violently, stretching her
moons as far as they could spread, watching his cock rip into the
moist pink flanges of her anus.
* * *
Roger stepped inside the living room, having left the now
resting Isabel on the patio. His limp cock grew immediately as he
saw the obscene and lascivious rites of copulation spread before
him. He realized he was far from finished for the night that while
Isabel had been damned good, she had not been near enough. No
woman would have been enough to satiate his wildly inflamed
desires this evening. Everywhere he looked there were nude,
churning bodies undulating for completion, and he rubbed his penis
into a full erection.
He walked toward the sun porch. Then, suddenly, his eyes
fell upon the depraved sight of his wife and her two lovers on the
tweed couch. He moaned involuntarily at seeing Diane sucking
desperately at Dr. Hilton's penis, while Randall wildly sodomized
her. He moved forward in perverse desire, unable to control his
building lust at the sight. He wanted to see every little action,
every tiny movement between his wife and Randall and that doctor.
Roger could scarcely breathe. His rod heaved with throbbing
hardness. He glanced back into the living room at the other
couples, all of whom had swapped their legal mates and were
engaged in one form or another of rampant perversion. Then again
he watched his wife on the couch, Hilton's cock shoved into her
mouth, her head bobbing like a surrealistic yo-yo on a string, his
prick soaring into her face until her lips touched his pubic hair.
And Randall pulling her buttocks apart with his hands, her tiny
tight rectum clenching like a rubber band around his slamming,
jolting cock. God almighty, the orgy seemed unlimited!
He slipped down beside his wife, facing her wildly undulating
buttocks, his eyes centered on the wide split crevice of her ass,
fascinated by the rampaging cock which smashed against the
quivering and unimpeded anus. He held his breath as the puckered
pink flesh withdrew and then sank back again from the brutal
thrusts; and then, delirious from the passionate view, he traced
his fingers over her thighs, dipped them down and felt the soft
pubic hair of her cunt. The wet fleece dripped over his exploring
hands, oozing down his fingers, and Diane began to moan through
her tightly ovalled lips. This only seemed to excite Roger more,
and suddenly, overwhelmingly, he had to have his wife! He had to
take her and ravage her and possess her, had to participate in the
lewd rape of her body ... and it was rape, even if she wasn't
fighting it. The sight and feel had peaked his lust to a mind-
blowing, rampant stage, and his prick bloated with the
anticipation of adding its own debauchery.
Roger lowered his head and began to worm it face-up under her
heavily perspiring belly, letting her soft warm skin beat its
tattoo of sexual cadence against his nose. Slowly he slithered
further. Diane, sensing his erotic presence, numbly raised
herself to his questing head and saw her husband. Oh, God, Roger
was going to suck her while the other two fucked her rectum and
mouth!
His hands masturbated her voraciously throbbing cunt, working
their way up her vaginal barricades, tickling the very essence of
her womanhood. Then he removed his hand, his lips pressing the
first sweet parting folds of her vagina. Roger's eyes opened to
the searing sight of her pussy nuzzling his nose and lips. He
probed with his tongue until he found the pulsing shaft of her
miniature phallus, and then heard her choked whimper as he teased
it with agonizing pleasure between his teeth. He ran his tongue
around and around it, moving in the tempo of the salacious anal
fucking Randall was giving her but scant inches away. He could
see and hear Randall's cock as it surged inside her anal passage
and deep into her rectum, and he could feel the pummeling Randall
was giving her body; it only spurred him onward, massaging her
slit and flailing his head from side to side.
Diane lolled her tongue along the base of Hilton's bulbous
cock, wildly jerking her loins to the sensuous abuse the three men
were performing on her. Ooooooohhhhhh! her mind cried, I can't
think straight! Those feelings in my cunt and ass and mouth are
driving me insane! Tears came to her eyes, and she shoved her
cunt down upon Roger's agile tongue, pushing his face deeper into
her steaming genitals.
Roger moved beneath her kneeling body again, this time
lifting her leg and turning his own body around so that he, too,
lay on the couch, his legs stretched out behind her, in between
the heavily flexing thighs of Randall. His stiff cock brushed
against Diane's warm moist pubic hair, and she waved her impaled
buttocks wildly, bringing a moan of contentment from Randall's
throat. The man sodomizing her asshole allowed her to lower her
grinding cunt lips over her husband's animal-like prick, and
furiously Roger surged upwards, his rump off the couch as he
rammed his cock deep within his wife's waiting, fire-filled pussy.
Her vagina seemed to have a suction of its own, sucking his
hardened cock up in it to its hilt. Diane felt the great tool
slide into her, bearing against Randall's hard cock, the thin
membrane of her vaginal and rectal walls the only thing between
the two parallel shafts.
And then, as if by some prearranged signal, Randall and Roger
began to fuck her in unison until only their engorged glans
remained inside her, Roger's held in place by the inner lips of
her insatiable cunt, and Randall's held by its throat by the tight
constriction of her stretched, sensation-filled anus. Then they
plunged simultaneously, driving deep up inside her, their
stiffness pushing against each other along the twin open channels
of her writhing loins.
"More!" she groaned around Hilton's still pumping prick.
"MMmmmmmmm! More! Oh God, more!"
They gave her more, heaving and crashing into her with a
rhythm that made her think of tidal waves pounding the Pacific
Ocean shore line. Again and again they fucked into her in
exquisite unison, their balls making harsh slapping sounds when
they hit flesh, and the soft gushing sounds of fluid and
lubricating seepages sloshing around the pink peninsula of flesh
between her dual ravaged orifices.
Delight flowed through Diane, sending her deliriously into
another world. She massaged the soft scrotum of Hilton's
genitals, his hard shaft completely absorbed between her ovalled
lips. Then she tantalized the base of his cock with one hand and
raised her fingers so that she stroked his pubic hair while she
sucked in time to the mighty pummeling she was experiencing in her
pussy and her asshole. Her tongue flicked around Hilton's glans,
rubbing against its tiny split, and the softness of her member
twirled maddeningly around its massive tube. Hilton flexed his
buttocks, watching the crown of her head bob on his cock as
simultaneously she worked her buttocks to the relentless
hammerings of the other two men.
Roger was face to face with his wife now and could stare up
at the salacious sight of Diane's puckered lips sucking Hilton's
massive penis. The view caused him to shove his loins further
against his wife's cunt, and he watched as his sudden surge made
her peel back her lips with delirium and cling to Hilton's cock
grotesquely with her teeth. Then her lips closed over this
fantastically swollen rod of hardened flesh and continued to suck
it voraciously. It was a masterful sight, blurred as it was with
the increased rhythm of their impending explosion.
Diane sensed her husband's growing excitement and began to
suck Hilton's prick harder for his benefit. She dug her nails
gently into the blood-engorged flesh, leaving thin white bloodless
trails where she scraped thin layers of skin away.
Suddenly Randall began to howl behind her and then Hilton
took up the wailing chant and Roger made muffled groans. It was
time! IT WAS TIME! The perfect harmony, and the knowledge alone,
made Diane gasp, for she too grew like an inflating balloon and
suddenly exploded. The room lit in strange colors, blinding and
flashing and mingling with the electrifying shocks of her climax.
Her whole body seemed to drop to the depths of primeval carnal
emotion.
Roger shot his cum deep into her pussy like some great rocket
blasting into the black emptiness of space. He writhed his hips
furiously, while he watched his lovely wife's face working to milk
the juice of Hilton's tremendous explosion. In her rectum, Randall
was spearing needle-thin streams of white hot sperm from his
convulsing balls, filling her bowels with the enema of his great
load.
Hilton continued to spurt in her mouth, and Roger was dazedly
amazed at the number of times his wife had to bloat her cheeks and
swallow hard, greedily, sucking on furiously to get every last
drop of his hot delicious, semen. Some of the sperm dribbled from
her ovalled lips and hung tantalizingly on her chin in coagulating
droplets. Roger was tempted to wipe them away, but he was too
tired, too satiated from his own release.
Diane, her climax the last to arrive, thrust her buttocks
back on the superbly expanded shafts of her lovers, her every
muscle contracting as though she was having an epileptic fit. She
gulped and swallowed the semen of Hilton's onrushing surge, and
her anal sphincter muscles closed around Randall's ejaculating
penis like an angry fist. Her buttocks flexed to rock hardness
when her orgasm hit, and her chest screamed as the power of her
body unleashed at the moment she had been waiting for. There was
no time, no space, nothing except the unbelievable pleasure of her
climax. She was struck again and again by the spasmodic
twitchings of every lustfully straining muscle in her body.
Gradually the three men's cocks went limp, and they withdrew
from her. Hilton's came last, for she continued to nibble it
thankfully, sucking the last vestiges of his great cum. Then he,
too, slid away. Diane raised her head and smiled at him, then at
her husband. She lowered her face to kiss Roger slipperily on the
lips with the greatest tenderness he had ever felt.
"Jesus," Randall sighed, collapsing against the back of the
couch.
"Yeah," groaned Hilton. "Jesus!"
"You were delightful, darling," Roger said softly into
Diane's ear, and he drew her close with his arms locked
possessively about her.
As sanity returned to Diane, she rolled her head over on
Roger's chest. The thought of: Welcome to the club! suddenly
crossed her mind.
After that, the party ran its course rapidly. Everyone made
love to everyone else in every conceivable way by twos and threes
and fours, but somehow it never seemed to reach that peak of
emotional release she had experienced with Roger, Randall, and Dr.
Hilton all inside her at the same time. Finally, she made her way
to a bedroom and collapsed on the large bed and slept. Several
other couples used the bed, some to sleep, some to fuck, but they
didn't disturb Diane. A few sampled her as she dozed, licking her
or emptying themselves between her legs, but she failed to fully
awaken and went through the motions of intercourse almost
automatically.
The first pink light of dawn was in the sky when Roger shook
her awake, but she was still too sleepy, too fulfilled to care.
He found her clothes and carried her tenderly outside to their
car, wondering perversely how many men had gushed their living
sperm into her sweet young belly this night...
Chapter 9
The hot summer sun blazed through the bedroom window,
cascading its brilliance across the double bed, waking Diane from
a deep sleep. She stretched her limbs languorously, the sun
warming her body through the thin satin sheet, and she recollected
with the haziness of semi-awareness the wonderful fucking Roger
had given her the night before. It had been months since the
evening of Marc Cord's orgiastic party, and since then, she and
Roger had completely abandoned themselves to the sexual life.
There was delicious enjoyment to be found in each other, and Roger
and she were more in love than ever; but they were honest with one
another, admitting frankly that they were no longer satisfied with
merely one another. No, they had enjoyed the pleasures of variety
too well, too long now, to be limited by such a narrow scope.
Yes, everything was like a beautiful dream. The new house in
the San Bruno hills was exactly what she had always wanted, and
the new people she had met in the surrounding blocks had been
marvelous and friendly--a few of them more than just friendly,
too. And Roger was happy in his position with Waller, Waller,
Crist and Maxwell, doing an excellent job for Marc, and was on his
way to bigger and better career opportunities with the company.
Of course, the money was nice to have, too; very nice. Oh yes,
she could truly say she had everything a woman could have in this
world.
Never before did I ever think of such fulfillment, Diane
thought to herself dreamily. And my marriage is so perfectly
wonderful now, not like it was when I was a silly, unenlightened
prude ... Thank God I found myself in time...
Her reverie was interrupted by Roger's entrance. He opened
the bedroom door and stepped inside. He smiled at her as he
approached, wiping his hands on his bright Bermuda shorts. He
leaned over the bed and smoothed his hands along the sheets, then
dipped under the covers and without warning moved his hand up
along her leg to squeeze her naked pubic mound. "Morning, sweet-
heart!" he grinned.
Diane shrieked, raising out of the bed in a half-hearted
attempt to escape the teasing rummaging between her legs. "Stop
it!" she laughed.
Roger laughed with her and withdrew his hand. "Get up, honey.
I want you to meet our new neighbors."
"You mean somebody finally bought the house across the
street?"
"Uh-huh. I brought them over for an introductory drink."
Diane moistened her lips in an anticipatory way. She jumped
out of bed and hurried to the dresser for a clean pair of panties
and a bra. "Are ... are they young?"
"Our age. And you should see Barbara Stinson." Roger made
his eyes go wider and puckered his lips in a silent whistle to
show what he thought of her.
"And Mr. Stinson?"
"You'll have to judge Jerry for yourself. He's not exactly
my type."
She slipped on a pair of short shorts, colored a lemon yellow
which showed off her tanned belly and legs to their fullest.
Diane knew that they were too tight at the crotch, and showed
almost lewdly the outline of her cunt lips and the valley in
between. "Mmmm, well, let's not keep our company waiting, Roger."
Roger put his arm around his wife's waist and the two of them
walked toward the door. "I hope you like Jerry, because I've got
my sights on his wife." He grinned widely at her. "Gonna help
me, baby?"
"Yes," she giggled, pressing against her husband. "Anything
you want, I'll do, darling ... and then some..." she added as a
smiling after-thought.
The End
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