Message-ID: <7268eli$9801132113@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/7268.txt>
From: TheEditor <grobert@IDT.NET>
X-Good-Total-Length: yes
Subject: NEW The Door-To-Door Salesman
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-Id: <l03010d01b0e10ca6be97@[169.132.209.161]>
WARNING:
This story is fiction, and should be treated as such.
The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY,
and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an
adult, or reading sex stories upset you, do not read any further.
I am not the author. I don't have the talent.
I can only be ... "TheEditor".
The Door-To-Door Salesman
Chapter 1
The lovely young blonde crossed one long slender leg
gracefully over the other, and smiled dazzlingly at Doug.
"Thank you so much for picking me up!" she breathed. "I've
had absolutely no luck at all this morning--that is, until you
stopped for me, Mr. ...?"
"Fletcher, Doug Fletcher," Doug supplied, darting another
look at the appealing young hitchhiker. He had been so surprised
to see her, waiting at the entrance to the expressway, that he had
impulsively stopped for her. Now he was glad he had--at least the
journey to work wouldn't be as boring as it usually was.
"I'm Selma Blake," the blonde went on, as she pulled out a
packet of cigarettes. Doug refused her offer of one, and she lit
her own, pulling deeply on it. He couldn't resist stealing
another glance at her--he was certainly attractive, and the short
skirt she was wearing revealed the smooth sweep of her curvaceous
thighs. Her long blonde hair swung back freely over her shoulders
and she had a youthful carefree look which suddenly made him feel
old and careworn.
"Do you always hitchhike to work ... If that's where you're
going ..." Doug inquired, fighting his desire to forget all about
the heavy rush-hour traffic and concentrate solely on his
beautiful passenger.
"Oh, sometimes," Selma replied enigmatically, and smiled at
him again, her full ripe lips curving upward tantalizingly.
Doug was aware of a tightening in his loins, of the stirring
of his awakening cock, and hoped that its stiffening was not
noticeable through his trousers. Steady on, he warned himself
silently, don't forget you're a married man!
"You look angry all of a sudden!" Selma said, and Doug
realized that he was frowning, the corners of his mouth drooping,
his lips white and tight.
"I'm not ... I'm just thinking," he said lamely, angry that
she had noticed his reaction to his internal thoughts. Any man
would scowl if he had the problems I've got! he told himself,
unable to turn his thoughts away from Betty and their fight this
morning. Just like me to have to worry about that nagging bitch
when I've got a cute dish like Selma beside me.
He couldn't help thinking that their quarrels got more and
more frequent, while their love life, such as it was, got less and
less frequent. They had tried to figure out what was wrong
between them, by calm conversation, but it always ended the same
way, with one or the other of them hurtling accusations at the
other. But he knew what the problem was ... the plain and simple
fact was that he wasn't getting a good lay at home and that was
bound to get to any normal guy after a while! But Betty, every
time they even got near to discussing the crux of the matter,
seemed to get hysterical, yelling "it's all your fault," and
refusing to discuss it further.
Well, he'd had enough of that, a man could only put up with
so much before he cracked, and he was dangerously close to the
breaking point now--this morning's quarrel was almost the last
straw! If that frigid wife of his had any idea of how she was
affecting him, she'd change her tune, and quick, before it was too
late ...
"Hey, calm down," Selma said suddenly, leaning a reassuring
hand on his arm, and Doug was amazed at the shudder of pleasure
which rippled through him from the electric contact. "You're all
wound up," she went on sympathetically. "Something must really be
getting to you!"
Yes, something is, Doug smiled grimly to himself, acutely
aware of her gently pressuring hand on his arm.
"Where will I drop you off?" he asked brusquely, avoiding her
eyes.
"Central Avenue will be fine," Selma responded, gathering up
her bag.
"Look ... how ... would you like to meet ... say for a drink,
after work?" Doug heard himself saying almost involuntarily. He
was aware of the painful thudding of his heart as he waited for
her reply. She'd probably refuse, after all, he had no business
asking her in the first place.
"Sure, I'd like that," she said at last, and Doug realized
that he had been holding his breath.
"Great, that's great," Doug exclaimed, and said that he'd
pick her up outside her office at five.
He sat watching, his eyes glued to the provocative sight of
her shapely hips until she was lost to sight in the hurrying
crowd.
Hell, it's only a date for a drink, no harm in that, he told
himself as he steered the car off in the direction of the city
center. And it sure will be better than going home to Betty and
facing another of her scenes.
* * *
Betty Fletcher grimaced as she swallowed the hot coffee. She
couldn't adjust to the slightly bitter taste of the brandy, but
knew that the overall effect of the mixture compensated for the
unusual taste. Already she felt a warm tingling deep in the pit
of her stomach as the hot liquid burned its way down and she could
almost feel the tension easing out of her muscles. Closing her
eyes, she leaned back against the back of the breakfast nook, and
tried to calm her troubled thoughts. She hadn't meant to lose her
temper with Doug this morning; she really hadn't. But she just
couldn't help it. She felt so irritated and tired, so depressed
as soon as she woke up. Of course it was his fault; he knew that
when she said she didn't feel like making love, she meant it. But
he always persisted, which really got her upset, and made her
nervy and on edge all night, usually carrying through into the
morning.
If only he'd understand her, or even try to.
But no! All he ever thought about was himself, and sex! He
made her feel like an automaton with the constant demands--no
wonder she lost her temper with him so much.
She took another deep drink of her brandied coffee, and
wondered wearily how she'd get through the day. The idea of
calling Tricia, her girlfriend occurred to her, but even the
thought of making the effort to get dressed up and go out
depressed her. And Tricia was always so inquisitive about the
personal side of her married life, giving out details freely about
her own sexual encounters, and probing almost rudely about Doug
and herself in bed. No, I can't face Tricia this morning, Betty
sighed. She looked listlessly around her, mentally arranging in
order of most importance the tasks she had to do. But she
couldn't even get interested in that. She was usually very
house-proud, capable and efficient in running her home, but now
she could see telltale curls of dust, clutters of newspapers.
It isn't fair! It isn't fair! she thought desperately, I'm
young and attractive still, life shouldn't be over for me after
two years of marriage!
Two years! She got up and wandered glumly into the hall.
Two years of bickering and frustration, getting worse all the
time, with no prospects of improvement.
She noticed, with disinterest, that the mailman had come.
She felt a momentary rush of interest as she saw a small package
among the usual circulars and a bill. "Personal Products" the
discreet stamp in the corner said, and Betty realized that the
vibrator-massager she'd ordered two weeks previously had arrived.
She carried it into the kitchen, and poured herself another
cup of coffee, adding a liberal splash of brandy, and then sat
down again in the breakfast nook to open the package.
She had read the small advertisement in one of the journals
Doug subscribed to, and had been impressed by its claims.
"Relieves stiff areas of the body," and "pats, stimulates, while
you glow all over" and finally, "feel relaxed and happy after the
deep massage of our natural feel personal vibrator."
Relaxed and happy. How long was it since she felt that way?
She could barely remember, and almost desperately had mailed off
the coupon asking for a free trial. She had forgotten all about
it in the past couple of weeks, as tension mounted between herself
and Doug and things went from bad to worse. But now, here it was,
and if it helped a little bit, it would be worth it.
Betty couldn't suppress a gasp as she pulled away the last
layer of tissue and revealed the gleaming cylinder of the
massager. She didn't know what she had expected, but certainly
nothing like this. It was about six or seven inches long,
contoured at one end to allow the hand to grasp it, and the other
end was topped by a slightly flaring knob. Betty stared at it,
her eyes swimming from the strain and also from the effects of the
brandy. It was like ... well, it looked almost exactly like a ...
a penis! She had no idea it would be like this. Almost gingerly,
she unfolded the instructions leaflet, and read that it was
"contoured to fit every curve of the body in a design proved to be
effective ..."
Tentatively, Betty carefully picked up the instrument, and
was surprised by how snugly and almost reassuringly it fitted in
her palm. Its surface was smooth and shiny, completely concealing
the inner works. She flicked the on-switch and was amazed at the
urgency of the vibrations; her entire hand shook gently and the
instrument felt strangely alive and warm in her hand. Maybe it
will work, maybe it will help me relax, just like the ad said.
Turning off the vibrator, she glanced again at the
instructions. "Just apply your personal vibrator to any stiff,
unyielding spot, i.e. your neck, shoulders, even your thighs, and
immediately feel deep relief starting to pour through you from the
special penetrating powers of this new design ..." It sounded so
simple, but maybe a simple solution was what she needed, to a far
from simple problem.
Betty didn't know what to do. She sat there, staring at the
massager, faintly horrified at its lewd shape. It was so
suggestive ... she couldn't help comparing it to Doug's penis,
which certainly didn't relax or satisfy her. Far from it. She
dreaded bedtime now, terrified that he would want to make love,
which he usually did. Of course, it hadn't been like that in the
beginning. On their honeymoon, she had been just as eager as he
was to make love, and even though it hurt a little at first, and
didn't feel particularly good, she was sure that time would adjust
everything. And Doug was so gentle and solicitous with her, too,
taking infinite care to ensure that she was ready for his
entrance. Yes, everything had been fine, even though she hadn't
derived full enjoyment from his lovemaking, and she had been sure
that it was just a matter of time. But after the honeymoon,
things just weren't the same. Doug just didn't seem to have the
inclination or patience to prepare her adequately first, and
couldn't understand why she didn't get as aroused as he did. She
tried explaining that she needed more time, more stimulation, but
he had brushed her explanations aside, even intimating that there
was something wrong with her because she wasn't responding fully
by now. And so, with the passing months, things had gotten worse,
and she could barely bring herself to talk about it with him. He
was so insensitive and unfeeling about what she needed, always
blaming her without stopping to think that maybe his approach was
wrong. No, the fault was always hers, and she was standing in the
way of his sexual happiness.
Well, she was just about ready to try anything to make life
bearable again, even if he wasn't. Wearily, she rose to her feet,
and picking up the box containing the vibrator, made her way into
the bedroom. She felt a little unsteady on her feet, and knew it
was from the brandy she had doused into her coffee. She had got
into the habit of doing that lately--it seemed to make the morning
more livable, but she knew that this morning at least, she'd have
to lie down for a few minutes. She must have put more than usual
in, she realized, and thankfully sank back on the large double
bed.
The room seemed to spin before her eyes, and she suddenly
felt hot and uncomfortable. She opened her robe, and lay spread-
eagled on the soft coverlet, willing her body into relaxation,
mentally trying to drive the demons of tension out of her knotted
muscles. Her legs felt leaden and her head was throbbing, and she
could barely keep her eyes open. She knew if she closed them,
she'd fall asleep, and she didn't want that to happen. God only
knew what time she'd wake up again. Relax, relax, she told
herself plaintively, but it was no use. She remembered the
vibrator "apply to ... neck, shoulders ... thighs ..."
Well, neck and shoulders were out of the question; she just
couldn't make the effort to reach them, but thighs ...
She reached over and grasped the vibrator and without giving
herself time to think, switched it on. For a moment, she held it
there in her hand, feeling its throbbing pulsating through her
arm, and then, with her free hand, drew the edges of her nightgown
up towards her hips, revealing the slender creamy skin of her long
supple legs. She experienced a moment's apprehension, wondering
if she should go ahead and use it, but she decided that she had to
try it. She just couldn't go on like this; she had to do
something or go crazy.
The vibrating surface felt strange against the soft flesh of
her slightly parted thighs, but after a few moments, she got
accustomed to it, and was amazed at the almost exhilarating
sensation. It actually felt good, chased away the leaden feeling
in her legs. She could almost feel the knots in her taut muscles
untying, felt tension unwind as the massager hummed over the
tender milk-white skin. Involuntarily, she slid her quivering
thighs further apart, allowing the humming instrument to slip
between the velvety surfaces and she became aware of new
sensations of glowing relaxation as it throbbed away the tightness
of her stiff muscles.
"Mmmmmm ..." she sighed blissfully, guiding the massager
upwards, enjoying the surges of new-found pleasure swirling in the
wake of the vibrator.
She gasped as the pulsating head came suddenly into direct
contact with the sensitive flesh of her outer vagina, sending an
unknown chill shooting through her. For a long moment, she held
it there, hardly daring to breathe, not knowing what to do.
Strange thrills surged through her as the throbbing top of the
vibrator nudged at the softly squirming outer lips, eliciting a
strange response deep in the pit of her loins. No, this is wrong
... she thought vaguely in the back of her wildly racing brain,
and yet, she couldn't pull her hand away. This is good, too, just
like it felt good on my thighs, she admitted numbly. It's helping
me relax, it's soothing, she told herself, I can't stop now ...
Furtively, she edged the instrument closer to the burning
flesh of her delicately writhing pussy and moaned aloud as it came
into closer delirious contact with the moist folds of her slowly
arousing cunt. There was no denying it ... the lewd machine felt
good against her burning vagina! She could feel the blood pulsing
through the thinly haired outer lips, felt the fluted edges of her
trembling inner lips nibbling eagerly at the pleasure-giving
gadget, and her entire body felt surmounted with a previously
unknown delight.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she gasped as she continued to pressure the
phallic-shaped device against her hotly churning pussy.
Of their own volition, her cream-white thighs spread further
apart, revealing the wet, tingling split of her madly throbbing
vagina. Without stopping to think, Betty guided the hard penis-
like instrument closer to the wildly dilating orifice of her
helplessly aroused cunt, sighing as new sensations careened
through her naked loins.
"Ooooohhhhh ..." she sobbed aloud as the pulsating machine
came into searing contact with the turgid knob of her rigidly
erect clitoris, nestling between the reddish curls of her pubic
hair. Shockwaves of pleasure cascaded over her gently heaving
body, and her face was flushed with exertion, bathed in a thin
film of moisture. It was incredible ... she had never known
anything like this before. She continued to rub the buzzing
vibrator-head against the throbbing pink bud of her clitoris,
grinding the rigid little organ mercilessly up against the hard
plastic surface of the vibrator.
In the back of her mind, a voice admonished her, but she
brushed it aside. This is wrong ... you shouldn't do this ...
it's not right ...
"Oh God, I can't help it!" she moaned through passion-
clenched teeth. And she couldn't. She was driven by an unknown
force to hold the pulsating massager against the desire-aroused
flesh of her writhing pussy, driven to grasp whatever pleasure she
could from her love-starved body. It can't be bad, she told
herself. Something this good, this exhilarating just can't be bad
...
Her hips were flailing and thrashing around, her nightgown
bunched up around her waist as she ground her heat-enflamed cunt
up against the wildly jerking gadget.
Suddenly, she couldn't stand it any longer, and with agonized
strength, she jammed the thick head of the vibrator against the
pulsating petal-shaped opening to her madly churning body. She
grit her teeth as she steeled herself against the unnatural
contact, and then heedlessly pressed forward again, forcing the
rounded knob against her wetly writhing hole, insinuating it past
the futilely resisting outer edges, sliding it into the heated
sheath of her hotly burning cunt.
She lay there gasping as she held the thick machine in place,
and then, without hesitating, she guided it deeper inside her,
spreading her legs wider and arching her pelvis upward to afford
greater access to the throbbing massager. Her entire loins felt
alive and tingling and the instrument seemed to caress the moist
tender inner tissues, which were already beginning to secrete
excitedly, clasping the pseudo-phallus with greedy hunger. Of
their own accord, her hips began to gyrate in time to the rhythmic
pulsing of the vibrator, and as the heaving inner walls of her
pussy began to lubricate with her moist feminine juices, she was
able to rotate the device inside her clasping vagina, adding to
the tremendous swirls of pleasure already building up deep inside
her. She had never known anything like it; it was much, much
better than any time with Doug. It was in fact almost as if her
husband no longer existed; all that mattered to her was this
incredible pleasure-giving instrument which was making love to her
with an unbearable intensity. Her head began to whirl and her
passion-drenched cuntal walls began an eager clutching at the
half-buried machine, as if it was desperately trying to suck the
gadget inside its heated depths.
Betty was bucking and thrashing against the bed, completely
out of control now, aware that for the first time she was
approaching a tremendous orgasm. And then, she couldn't hold back
any longer ...
"I'm cumming! I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" she shrieked
wildly as wave after wave of overwhelmingly hot pleasure washed
over her. She was climaxing, and it was better than she ever
imagined. Desperately, she continued to ram the white imitation
penis up between her crazily kicking legs, her voice incoherent
with hoarse mewls. Her deep pelvic thrusts shook the whole bed,
but Betty was oblivious to everything but the unbelievable
sensations cavorting through her body, culminating in the
overpowering pleasure that was burning up between her legs.
At last, the tremors subsided, and the uncontrollable flexing
in her belly grew less and less, until finally, she lay still, her
breathing shallow, her face flushed and moist with perspiration.
The room still seemed to be swirling around her as she placed the
vibrator back on the bedside table.
Conflicting feelings tumbled about in her dazed brain. Her
body felt satiated and glowing, a new, satisfying feeling, but
doubts began to form in her brain. What would Doug say if he
found out what she had done? That she had made herself climax in
that lewd way?
A sudden, agonizing image of how she must have appeared
flashed across her mind to taunt her--legs obscenely spread,
nightgown unashamedly wrinkled up around her waist, her hand
eagerly thrusting the plastic vibrating instrument into her vagina
...
"Oh no!" she sobbed suddenly, her face crimsoning with shame.
How could I have done such a disgusting, perverted thing?
She stared anew at the gleaming device, still wet and
glistening from her inner juices, and a feeling of revulsion rose
up inside her. Unable to stand the sight of it any longer, she
hurriedly threw it into the box and rushing over to the bureau,
flung it into the bottom drawer, under a layer of clothes she
seldom used. She caught a glimpse of herself in the full length
mirror behind the door and gasped at her disheveled hair, her
flushed, lustful face, the erect buds of her nipples through her
nightie.
Oh God, what's happening to me? she sobbed as she dashed into
the bathroom, unable to stand any longer the sight of her
sensually satisfied body.
Chapter 2
Doug knew he was driving recklessly, but still he didn't slow
down. He was beginning to be sorry that he had ever met Selma,
and the one drink they had had together was a disaster. He knew
that most of the fault was his. Somehow, he just couldn't bring
himself to unwind. Nothing but platitudes came into his head, and
things weren't helped by the fact that Selma herself was relaxed
and carefree. Instead of helping to loosen him up, it only made
him more uptight. It was because he was guilty, he knew. He
couldn't help wondering what Betty would think if she knew he had
taken a gorgeous young blonde out for a drink after work. Worse
still, what would she say if she knew that the lovely teenager was
really interested in him? Because, the fact was, in spite of his
being tongue-tied, Selma didn't bother to hide the fact that she
found him attractive. He'd have to be a fool not to notice, and
the knowledge filled him with mixed feelings.
Even though she was quiet and motionless now in the passenger
seat beside him, Doug was acutely aware of her presence. The
thought that a beautiful young girl like Selma was interested in
him, or even found him attractive, gave him a secret thrill of
pleasure, but he also found himself filled with foreboding. Just
why, he couldn't say. He knew that he found her attractive--in
fact, she was one of the loveliest girls he'd ever seen--and in
the end, he had to admit to himself that he was afraid. Afraid of
what might happen, afraid of his own feelings and desires, and
afraid of what Betty would think if she ever found out.
Not that there's any likelihood of anything happening, he
thought bitterly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the
striking profile of the young blonde teenager. She can't wait to
get home; otherwise she'd have accepted another drink ...
Doug was completely sunk in his depressed thoughts, and he
didn't notice the sudden choking sounds that were coming from the
engine. The first thing he realized was that the car was slowly
grinding to a halt.
"What the hell ..." he swore as it came to a complete
standstill.
"Maybe you're out of gas?" Selma suggested helpfully.
But Doug knew he wasn't and a quick glance at the gas gauge
confirmed that it was half full. Desperately, he tried the
starter again, but the sputtering sound was ominous.
"What a place to break down!" he muttered as he looked out on
the dark, lonely road. "We must be miles away from anywhere!"
"I think ... I think the nearest gas station is about two
miles away," Selma said in a small voice. "I'm sorry ..."
"It's not your fault," Doug assured her. "If it didn't
happen here, it'd happen somewhere else!"
"If you hadn't decided to drive me home ..." Selma said
again, her voice catching.
"Don't worry about that, Selma. Is there a phone near here?"
Selma shook her head. "No, the nearest one is at the gas
station!"
"Well, it looks as if I'll have to walk there and get a guy
to come back with me!" Doug said, feeling irritated.
This is what happens when a guy tries to date a girl on the
sly, he told himself angrily. Out loud, he called to Selma. "You
should be all right here. Just get in the back seat and lock the
doors. I won't be long!"
Before he could hear her reply, he got out of the car and
then decided to have a quick look under the hood. Luckily, he had
a flashlight with him, and he peered into the mysterious darkness
of the engine. Almost a novice at mechanics, he couldn't make
anything of the motor, and slammed down the top again.
You've got a nice long walk for your trouble now, old buddy,
he told himself and turned in the direction Selma had told him.
But he was suddenly arrested by a heartfelt cry.
"Doug! Doug! Don't leave me!"
What the hell's the matter now? he thought angrily as he
turned back towards the car.
"Selma! What's wrong?" he asked, opening the back door and
looking in.
"Don't leave me here alone! I'm afraid!" she whispered, and
her voice sounded as if she had been crying.
"But nothing will happen to you and I won't be long!" he
assured her.
"Let me come with you!" she begged, her voice soft and
pleading.
"But if you come, you'll only slow us down. I intend to run
most of the way!"
"B-But I can't stay here! I'm ... I'm scared to death!" her
cry ended on a sob and Doug eased himself into the back seat
beside her. He just couldn't go off and leave her alone, crying
and frightened.
"Now Selma, don't cry. There's nothing to be frightened of.
I'll be back soon and then I'll take you home." he soothed,
placing his arm reassuringly around her shoulder. Within moments,
she was clinging to him and he could feel her slender frame
shaking as she pleaded with him.
"We can stay here in the car until someone comes! There's
bound to be people passing by, on their way back from the shopping
center at Forest Circle!"
"This road looks as deserted as hell to me! We haven't seen
an automobile on it yet!" Doug said severely, wondering how he was
going to extricate himself from the mess he was in. It was
obvious he couldn't leave Selma by herself in the car, but on the
other hand, if she went with him, it might be hours before they
got on the road again. Her body felt so small and vulnerable in
the crook of his arm and he knew that she was really terrified at
the prospect of being left alone. Maybe the best thing would be
to bring her along, regardless of how long it would take.
After all, he couldn't sit here all night trying to persuade
her.
"Okay, Selma," he began, but he was suddenly cut off as she
moved still closer to him and in a moment, her lips were grazing
along his jawline, trailing hot, moist kisses in an excruciating
path to the fullness of his lips. She was kissing him!
For a long moment, he was immobilized with surprise, but then
as the ripe warmth of her lips pressed hungrily against his, he
found himself responding eagerly, grinding his mouth down against
hers, his arms tightening around her in a powerful embrace.
A surge of pleasure thrilled through him as he felt the soft
pliancy of her body, and then her tongue darted into his mouth.
It slipped past his teeth and began to fence and twist around his
own still dormant organ, whipping up a froth of saliva as it
swirled around in his mouth. His head felt light and dizzy and
his lips felt as if they were glued to Selma's softly yielding
mouth. Instinctively, he lowered his hand and circled tightly the
palpitating mound of her breast beneath her light blouse. He
could feel the hardening arousal of her nipple as it leaped gladly
under the caressing pressure of his hand, and, gaining in courage,
he lowered his searching fingers still lower. He drew in his
breath sharply when they came into contact with the gently
quivering flesh of her thigh, soft and tender under the shiny
encasement of her stockings.
"Oh Doug ..." she whispered softly, her voice warm and
exciting.
But her words brought him to his senses. He wanted to go on
like this, kissing and stroking her, but he couldn't. He might go
too far ...
"Look, Selma, we'd better ..." he began lamely.
"We'd better what?" she teased, and he could only just make
out her face in the dim light of the back seat. They were like
two people marooned on a strange island, insulated from the rest
of the world in the back seat. The knowledge of their solitude
frightened him, and at the same time excited him. Doug could hear
her breathing, shallow and rapid, and the almost tentative touch
of her fingertips on his thigh.
"Selma, we can't ... the car ..." he choked, not knowing what
to say. But then, her long fingers crawled excitingly upward and
suddenly came into searing contact with the throbbing flesh of his
pounding cock.
"Oh God, Selma ..." he rasped, hardly able to bear it as his
rapidly palpitating cock began to grow with lustful intensity,
swelling under the gently caressing strokes of her hand. Already
it was straining against the material of his pants, and his hands
had tightened like vises around the girl's trembling shoulders.
He thought he'd go mad from the excruciating pressure when he
heard the unmistakable whir of the zipper of his fly and then, his
liberated penis leaped joyfully upward, a hard, pulsating rod of
flesh. Almost immediately, Selma's fingers tightened around it,
exerting exquisite pressure on the tingling surface. She ran her
sensitive fingertips up and down the pulsing length of it, making
Doug grit his teeth with overwhelming passion.
"Mmmmm ... it feels nice and hard already ..." Selma crooned,
still stroking and caressing the lust-maddened shaft unbearably.
"Selma ... what do you think you're doing?" he gasped
suddenly, desperately trying to force himself back to reality.
"What am I doing?" the lovely blonde murmured. "Why, I'm
stroking and fondling your lovely big prick, to make it even
bigger and harder ..."
The lewd words sent a fiery arrow of arousal shafting through
him and with a moan, he crushed his lips down on her unsuspecting
mouth, bruising against her lips with unsated hunger. This time,
his tongue nudged hungrily against her teeth, forced its way up
into the warm moistness of her mouth. His hands fumbled at the
buttons of her blouse, almost ripping them away in his haste.
Eagerly, they sought the warm quivering flesh of her palpitating
breasts, dipping inside her brassiere and brushing against the
burning buds of her turgid nipples. Selma mewled as he kneaded
the sensitive flesh, her entire body squirming and tingling from
his touch. Relentlessly, his hands chased downward and began to
unzip her skirt, and Selma raised her thighs to allow him to slide
it down over her shapely hips. He could see the whiteness of her
panties gleaming in the half-light and then, with a savage,
incoherent moan, he began to tug at the flimsy material. His eyes
strained as he caught a glimpse of the golden triangle at the top
of her voluptuously curved thighs, and then, more hurriedly, he
began to ease the dainty panties down over her long, slender legs,
pulling away her stockings as he did so. At last she was naked
beside him in the back seat, and Doug was overwhelmingly aware of
the exciting closeness of her, of the mesmerizing lure of her
warm, yielding body.
Just then, a car loomed up before them, its headlights almost
blinding them both.
"Oh God, who is it?" Selma gasped, but Doug hardly heard her.
In the strong light, he could see the full splendor of her
completely naked body, and his eyes were bulging in his head as he
stared at the alabaster whiteness of her upswept breasts,
surmounted by the roseate tips of her burgeoning nipples.
Swiftly, his excited gaze dropped to the smooth sweep of her hips
and fastened on the glossy flaxen triangle of pubic curls between
her cream-like thighs. But, moments later, the car had swept by
them and their own automobile was plunged into darkness.
He realized that Selma was shivering beside him.
"I got a fright," she whispered, "for a moment, I thought
..."
Doug gathered her in his arms and pulled her to him. He had
hardly noticed the other auto, in his passionate arousal, had not
even thought of stopping it and asking for a ride to the gas
station. All he could think of was Selma. Once more he began to
paint a burning path of passionate kisses along the curve of her
swan-like neck, down to the full ripeness of her firmly rounded
breasts. He enclosed each dark, throbbing nipple in his mouth,
titillating the little buds with his tongue, nibbling at the
excited puckering of her dark-red areolas. His knee edged between
the silkiness of her slightly parted legs, forcing them even
further apart, and Doug thought he could just barely see an
enticing gleam of her moist pink cuntal-slit glimmering beneath
the curling wisps of pussy tendrils.
His burgeoning penis was hard and intensely alive, every
nerve ending taut and excited and he moaned aloud with new
pleasure when he felt her fingers once more close around it.
"Oh Christ, Selma," he suddenly blurted, "I want to fuck you
... I want to fuck you good and hard ..." Her fingers tightened
around the rigid shaft of his tormented cock and then she began to
draw it towards the tantalizing fulcrum of her body. He could
feel the velvety wetness of her softly quivering outer lips as the
hard rubbery head of his jerking shaft nudged against them, and he
had to force himself to hold back.
"Ooooohhhh yes ... yesss ... fuck me now, lover ..." Selma
moaned suddenly, her voice harsh with desire. Doug couldn't stand
it a moment longer. He had had all he could take and the pent-up
force of his passion rushed out with a single overpowering drive,
as he rammed brutally forward. With a flesh-splitting thrust, he
parted the futilely resisting outer lips and crammed the hard
pounding length of his lust-bloated rod halfway up into the tight,
unprepared depths of her cuntal sheath.
"AAAARRRRGGGGGHHH ... OH GOD YOU'RE KILLING ME!" Selma wailed
piteously, desperately thrashing her hips in a frantic effort to
elude the cruel impalement.
But Doug, goaded on by almost maniac lust, ignored her cry.
Heedlessly, he continued to surge forward, forcing his giant shaft
to the hilt in her defenseless little belly. He held it there
almost interminably, and then, with excruciating slowness, began
to flex it in the pulsing darkness of her tight, dry vaginal
channel.
"OOOOOOHHHHH ... uuugggghhhnnn ..." Selma moaned as she felt
the steel-hard pole nudging against the sensitive tip of her
cervix. She had never felt so full in her life. She felt as if
the giant shaft were cleaving her in two, swelling with every
passing second and she was almost afraid that it would explode
inside her sorely palpitating depths. She felt vaguely
uncomfortable from her awkward, half-lying position on the back
seat of Doug's car, her legs parted lewdly, her naked back pressed
against the cool leather upholstery.
Doug finally began to withdraw, pulling out his long
throbbing cock in one swift stroke and then surging forward again.
"Aaaarrrrhh ... hhhmmmmhhh ..." Selma gasped as he plunged
forcefully up between her widespread legs again, sinking his
lust-inflated cock once more to the very base in her defenselessly
naked belly. This time, the tender resilient inner membrane began
to secrete excitedly, lubricating the long, lunging penis,
allowing it to slip easily in and out of her openly spread cunt.
"Mmmmmm ..." she moaned again suddenly, as tiny pinpricks of
pleasure began to form deep somewhere in her loins, and a long
shiver of ecstatic joy chilled her backbone. Her voluptuously
silken thighs spread even farther apart of their own violation,
her toes curling around Doug's lower back. Her arms reached up
and she clasped him eagerly around the neck, spiraling her pelvis
upwards to receive his rhythmic downthrusts.
Doug was in a world of his own. He had never experienced
anything like this in his life before, and the knowledge that he
was fucking a near-stranger in the back seat of his car, on a
lonely country road, gave him an illicit feeling of pleasure that
was excitingly mingled with power. He was exhilarated by the
thought of what he was doing, and the wanton act liberated him in
a way that he had almost forgotten. Selma was so yielding, so
provocative, and just as aroused as he was! He had almost
forgotten that a woman could be like that. He had almost
forgotten the pleasure of fucking a real woman, a fully responsive
female who returned thrust for thrust. Selma made him feel like a
real man, completely sure of his masculinity--a feeling he had
never had with Betty!
Betty. For a moment, he expected his conscience to overwhelm
him with recriminations. He half-anticipated that the reminder of
his wife would somehow make him feel different--would engender
feelings of guilt and remorse--but it didn't! He felt nothing but
the almost overpowering pleasure that he was getting from fucking
this little blonde pick-up. The eager acceptance of her
helplessly aroused little pussy instilled him with sensual vigor
and made the wisps of passion which were curling around inside him
burst into furious clouds of red-hot pleasure. He wished he could
see Selma's face clearly, but from what he could see, he knew that
her head was thrown back, her mouth half-open, spewing out
incoherent words that were the expression of her complete arousal.
He could feel the hardness of her turgid little nipples against
his chest, could feel the increasing urgency of the spasms which
were convulsing her body.
"Oh God yesss ... that's it ... fuck me harder ... harder
..." she pleaded, her voice indistinct and hoarse with lust. Her
wet, naked body was writhing uncontrollably on the seat, and the
clinging walls of her inner sheath were milking convulsively on
his plunging cock, tightening like a vise-grip around the
sensitive flesh as he plummeted deep into her warmly welcoming
depths. Their two bodies were fused together as one, joined where
his long rangy cock buried itself in the widely stretched passage
of her openly throbbing vagina. They flailed and thrashed against
each other, the car being filled with the lewd, wet, slapping
sounds of their love-making. Doug felt as if he was being driven
on by some inner, unknown force that was making him strive almost
inhumanly for completion with the tortured, lust-wracked girl
beneath him. He thought he'd go mad if he didn't climax soon.
His whole body felt on fire, every nerve-ending taut and frazzled
by the effort to reach the pinnacle of pleasure.
And then, a few moments later ...
"Oh! Oh! Oh! My God, I'm there! I'm ... I'm ...
aaaahhh... I'M CUMMING!"
Selma's choked cry rang out just as her body stiffened almost
unbearably, and then she was crashing down on the seat, pounding
her passion-demented cunt up against Doug's furiously driving
cock.
She was mewling and groaning uncontrollably, her entire body
caught up in the throes of an incredible orgasm. Doug could feel
the passionate vibrations resounding throughout the length of her
feverishly flailing body, and her frantic spasms triggered his own
release.
All at once, the tremendous pressure which had been building
up in his balls seemed to explode. His head began to spin and his
body seemed to pass out of his control, as a series of convulsive
shudders gripped it and made him fuck brutally between the moaning
girl's wantonly splayed legs.
"AAAAAHHHHH ... I'm cumming too!" he moaned savagely, as his
tortured scrotum at last released the first hot spurt of his
seething male sperm. It rushed blindly from the dark, hot cavern
of his balls and poured out of the pulsating tube of his wildly
stabbing cock, to gush wetly into the hungrily receptive depths of
Selma's eagerly clasping cunt. It continued to flow in a hot,
boiling jet of white fluid, seeping into the steaming creases and
crevices of Selma's voraciously clutching vagina.
When, at last, the cumming was over, and he could sense,
rather than see, that Selma was satiated, he collapsed over her
moistly quivering form, covering her with his own trembling body.
He was filled with an exultant sense of well-being, and his mind
was wiped clean of all peripheral problems. He didn't care about
the fact that the car wouldn't start, that he had just been
unfaithful to his wife by fucking a young teenager. He'd worry
about those things later. Right now, he didn't care about
anything but the fact that he was satiated and fulfilled beyond
his wildest dreams. And at the moment, nothing mattered but that
...
* * *
Betty was trying to decide whether or not to call the police,
when she heard the car in the driveway. Oh thank God was her
initial reaction. It was almost three a.m. and she hadn't heard a
word from Doug all day. At first, she thought that he was just
working overtime, or maybe stopped off somewhere for a drink. But
as the hours ticked by and midnight came and went, she really
began to get worried. Maybe he met with an accident was the
recurring thought in her head and more than once, she had her hand
on the receiver to dial the police. But now, thank goodness, he
was home, and presumably all right. Her feeling of relief passed
quickly and she was left with a vague feeling of annoyance. Why
in hell hadn't he called her?
"Oh, you're still up," Doug commented as he let himself in
the back door.
Betty felt the blood rising to her head and bit back a sharp
retort. Maybe he has a good reason, and he'll tell me in a
moment. "Would you like anything, some coffee, or maybe a
sandwich?" she asked, trying to keep her voice careful and even.
"No, just get me a drink, will you?" Doug replied without
looking at her.
Something in his manner and the way he had snapped out his
answer irritated Betty, and she couldn't help hissing back:
"What kept you till this hour? I've nearly gone out of my
mind with worry!"
"Just get me that drink, okay?" Doug said coldly, peeling off
his jacket. Betty, seething with burning anger, mixed him a
Scotch and soda and silently handed it to him. She didn't know
what to say next. She didn't want to anger him, but on the other
hand, she felt she was entitled to some explanation. She watched
as Doug took a deep swallow of the drink, and wondered what could
have delayed him.
"The car broke down," he said finally, and something snapped
inside Betty. His brief, unclear explanation stung her to the
quick, and the unfeeling way he was treating her concern and worry
made her quiver with rising fury.
"Well, why the hell didn't you call me and let me know? I
nearly called the police, I was so worried about you! You didn't
have the good manners to call me, and now you're acting as if I'm
some kind of nut just for asking!" The words tumbled out in a
near-incoherent blaze of anger, and Betty found that she was
trembling.
"Look, honey, I'm dead tired. Let's leave it till the
morning, all right?"
"NO! IT'S NOT ALL RIGHT!" Betty sobbed, giving full vent to
her rage. "You come back here, cool as a cucumber, and expect me
to believe that bull about the car breaking down! You must think
I'm a real dumb-bell!"
"Listen, Betty, I don't feel like listening to your hysterics
right now. The car broke down and I was so worried about it, I
forgot to phone you until I was ready to leave the gas station, so
I decided not to bother and get right on home!" Doug lied
smoothly, hoping that his wife wouldn't notice the slight flush
that was rising to his face. He hadn't realized it was so late,
or he would have phoned, if only to avert Betty's histrionics.
But he really did forget to phone, what with Selma wanting to fuck
again, and then by the time they got to a gas station and got the
car fixed, and then dropped her off at home ...
"So I'm hysterical, am I?" Betty shrilled. "If you'd been
stuck here all these hours, worried to death about where I was,
you'd be hysterical, too!"
"Hysterical, maybe, but I wouldn't goddamn nag you!" Doug
retorted, unable to contain himself.
"And why the hell shouldn't I nag, when you come home at this
hour with some flimsy excuse! For all I know, you were out with
some other woman!"
Doug blanched, and wondered if she could hear the furious
thudding of his heart. Had she guessed? Did she find out in some
way that he'd spent those hours with Selma? His guilty conscience
churned in speculation and he was unable to form a suitable reply.
Betty noticed his uneasiness and she pressed her advantage.
"Yes, that's it. You were probably out with some cheap slut,
and now you come back here to me, at this hour of the morning,
without even an apology!"
"Why the hell should I apologize?" Doug railed, suddenly
finding his voice again. "The car did break down," he insisted,
"and if you like, you can check the gas station in the morning!"
As soon as he said it, he was sorry. Suppose she did check the
gas station, and the attendant told her that he had been with a
voluptuous blonde? Oh Christ, he shouldn't have said that.
"Let's go to bed, honey," he said in a conciliatory tone,
"we're both tired and tomorrow--"
"I don't want to hear anything more about tomorrow! I want
to get to the bottom of this tonight!" Betty asserted violently.
She knew she was acting shrewishly, but she couldn't help herself.
The floodgates of her emotions had burst open and had washed away
any restraint she might have put on her tongue. The day had been
such a miserable one, and throughout the length of it, she had to
live with her guilt over using that horrible vibrator. Several
times she had decided she'd make a clean breast of it and tell
Doug when he came home, but that was out of the question now. She
knew she was just taking her guilty feelings out on her husband,
and another time she'd have accepted his excuse with loving
concern. But tonight, she just couldn't let the matter rest.
"Betty," Doug began in a threatening voice, "I'm sick and
tired of your harangue. Now just shut up and leave me alone!"
Betty's feelings were lacerated by her husband's cold tone.
All the feelings she had nurtured about being misused and
unappreciated leaped to the fore and pushed aside caution.
"How dare you speak to me like that?" she raged. "I'm sick
and tired of you, with your disgusting ways, always thinking about
sex, treating me as if I was a robot! You act as if you were God
Almighty, but I know what you're really like! You're a ... a ...
bad-mannered, ill-tempered ... savage!" Her eyes were blazing and
she was staring at her husband with utter loathing. A
recollection of how he had wanted to make love to her last night
flashed before her eyes, and of the other row they'd had this
morning ... Oh God, she just couldn't take any more!
Doug couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't quite follow her
line of thought, and as he hadn't mentioned making love, her
outburst took him by surprise. But it also infuriated him. Selma
doesn't think I'm a bad-mannered, ill-tempered savage! he thought
with sudden vehemence, and involuntarily took a step towards his
wife.
"Stay away from me!" she shrieked wildly, jerking back
against the kitchen table.
That was the last straw for Doug. The realization that his
wife was afraid of him, had actually thought that he was going to
harm her in some way goaded him in a way that her words hadn't.
So she thought he was some kind of a monster, did she? Well, he
had never given her any reason to think that before, but by Christ
he would now!
"I told you before to shut up, you nagging bitch!" he spat,
moving towards her and grabbing her shoulder with a rough
movement.
"TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" she screamed, struggling
desperately to break away.
"I'll teach you to pay attention to me," Doug snarled, and
with a sudden swipe, slapped her hard across the face. Betty
stared at him in dumbfounded horror, unable to believe that he had
actually struck her.
"You ... you bastard! You hit me!" she gasped in disbelief.
"Now I know what you're really like ... a man that would strike a
woman!"
"You haven't a clue what I'm really like," her husband
sneered, "but by God, you'll soon learn!"
"Get away from me!" she demanded hoarsely, her eyes widening
in fright, dismayed at the reaction she had provoked.
"I've had just about all I can take from you," Doug spat, his
hand tightening on her arm. "Now you'll do what I say, and like
it!"
A hot retort choked in Betty's throat. She was really afraid
now. She had never seen her husband so angry, and she knew that
it was mostly her fault for aggravating him. Oh God, why didn't I
keep my mouth shut ...
"Get your clothes off!" Doug suddenly ordered.
"Wha ...?" Betty gasped, unable to believe that she had heard
him right.
"GET YOUR CLOTHES OFF!" Doug yelled again, moving menacingly
closer.
"You must be crazy!" Betty breathed, trying to struggle free
of her husband's clutching fingers. But his only reply was to
reach up and pull wildly at her blouse, ripping away the buttons,
baring the softly molded curves of he brassiere-encased breasts.
Betty could only stare at her husband as he hooked his fingers
under her brassiere and with one sharp tug, he pulled it away from
her body, leaving her full voluptuous breasts swinging free, the
nipples stiffening in the cool air.
"Doug, please ..." she began in a softer voice, making a
futile attempt to cover her naked breasts.
"Now take off those slacks!" he ordered, his eyes fastened on
the cream-like flesh of her quivering breasts.
Betty didn't know what to do. If she obeyed him, and took
off her slacks, she knew he'd only get excited and aroused at the
sight of her naked body. And she didn't want that! She'd seen
the look of lust leap into his eyes when he'd torn away her
brassiere. But if she refused to obey him ... in the mood he was
in, he might kill her!
Doug's fingers tightened even more painfully on her bare
forearm, and fear made Betty fumble with the zipper of her slacks.
Slowly, she began to peel them down over her fearfully trembling
thighs, hoping that her husband would have a change of heart. But
he didn't. Trembling, she stepped out of the garment, and stood
there, clad only in a pair of diaphanous white panties.
"Well! Well! Well! You're not so fiery now," Doug leered,
staring at his nearly-naked wife. "Now let's see you take off
those panties!"
"But Doug ..." Betty began in a mortified voice.
"No objections!" her husband snapped. "Just do as you're
told!"
Humiliated, Betty inserted her thumbs in the narrow elastic
waistband of the panties and began to ease them down over the
gentle swelling of her hips. Finally she stood there, completely
naked, her head lowered in embarrassment.
Doug continued to stare at his wife's lovely alabaster body.
His eyes were riveted on the russet triangle gleaming between her
thighs, and he couldn't draw them away from the enticing spot.
When he had ordered her to strip, he had done so compulsively
without really thinking. He had to find a way to assert his
masculinity, which had been resurrected so magnificently by Selma,
and which had been temporarily deflated by Betty's tirade.
Now he was goaded on by a feeling he couldn't name, but which
he knew had to do in some way with his guilt about Selma. If he
had had a fully legitimate excuse for being so late, he knew he
would have called, or even if, by some chance, he had neglected to
do so, he would have made some effort to placate Betty when he
finally did get home. Instead, he had gotten just as angry as she
had. But now, something else was taking possession of him. As he
stared at his wife's shapely, naked body, he was aware of the
first stirrings of desire. Even though their lovemaking was never
usually a really satisfying experience, he still got excited by
her voluptuously curved body, and tonight was no exception. She
looked like some beaten goddess, standing there, with her head
bowed. Her long red hair had become undone and framed he face
with tawny tendrils. Her full, ripe breasts were defiantly
upswept, and her slender waist fell away to gracefully curved
hips.
"Betty honey," he began softly, relaxing his cruel hold on
her arm. He flinched as she shrank from him, but steeled himself
to make another attempt. "I'm really sorry, baby. Let's ..."
"Don't touch me!" Betty hissed, her voice venomous. Although
a part of her wanted to accept his reconciliation, her pride would
not let her. He had wounded her too deeply, and she had to have
her revenge.
But Doug had had enough. Her loathing was so obvious that he
couldn't ignore it, and he had to show her that he was the boss.
With a brutal shove, he slammed her hard against the kitchen
table, making her cry out with pain. Stumbling, she lost her
balance and fell in a crumpled heap onto the floor.
In a moment, Doug was beside her, his hands tightening on her
hips, forcing her into a humiliating position on her hands and
knees.
"Oh God, why can't you leave me alone?" she sobbed piteously,
too enfeebled to try and struggle.
"I will, don't worry," Doug chuckled lewdly, "when I've
finished with you!"
His fingers were racing over the flaccid moons of her softly
fleshed buttocks, leaving ugly red wefts in their wake. Cruelly,
he strained apart the rounded ass-cheeks, revealing the dark
trembling crevice of her ass. His eyes seemed to glaze as he
stared at the illicit crack, and then, without hesitation, he
reached down and ran his long pink tongue along the quivering
split.
"Aaaahhh! Aaaahhh! Aaaaahhh!" Betty sobbed, desperately
wriggling her buttocks in a frantic effort to escape. But it was
futile, and a crimson blush flushed her face as Doug continued to
slaver and lick at her secret place. Dear God, he must be out of
his mind ...
At last, the lewd licking ceased, and a feeling of relief
swept over Betty. Maybe now he'll let me go ...
But her relief was short-lived. Fear rose inside her as she
felt the unbelievable nudging of his finger at her tight little
anus, and a shiver of trepidation raced along her spine. What in
God's name was he going to do? Almost in answer to her terrified
thoughts, Doug began to shove harder at the tight little ring,
watching it crinkle defensively under his touch, and then,
suddenly, he rammed it forward, forcing it past the tightly-
clenched sphincter, inserting his middle finger in the dry,
resisting darkness of her anal depths.
"Aaaaaarrrrrhhhhh ... stop! Stop! Please stop!" Betty
begged, wriggling her soft, cream-like ass-cheeks frantically, as
she tried to elude the forbidden intruder. But her struggles only
seemed to assist her husband and he was able to bury his finger to
the first knuckle in her tortured rectum.
Crudely, he began to rotate it inside her dark channel,
making her squirm and moan with agony. But he was oblivious to
her groans and continued to burrow his alien digit in her soft,
rubbery depths. After what seemed an eternity, he finally pulled
it out, and the pain began to recede from Betty's agonized back
passage. She felt cramped and uncomfortable from the awkwardness
of her position, and she thought of appealing again to her
husband's mercy. But deep down inside, she knew it was no use.
She had driven him over the brink by her callous nagging, and it
was too late for him to draw back. Besides, her pride made it
impossible for her to give in any more. He could do what he liked
with her, but he would never break her spirit. He might conquer
her body, but her mind would never submit.
But she couldn't resist gasping with new horror when she
realized what was happening. At first she couldn't believe it,
but it was obvious.
"Oh no! Please no!" she moaned when she felt the hard
rubbery head of Doug's penis pushing crudely against the tiny
defenseless opening of her rectum. She knew it was fully erect,
because it felt granite-hard and unyielding, and fear clutched at
her throat. She wanted to scream out, to make a desperate effort
to get away from her husband, but she couldn't. She was
immobilized by terror, all strength drained from her by the
realization of what was happening. Oh God, how was she to bear
it?
Doug stared down at the palpitating length of his fully
inflated cock with satisfaction. It lay long and powerful against
the trembling split of his wife's anal crease, the knobby head
rubbing lewdly against the crinkled dark anus. He knew that Betty
was afraid, and he reveled in her fear. It made him feel
masterful, and made up in a small way for the degradation she made
him feel with her taunts and accusations. But he wanted to
subjugate her further, leave no doubt in her mind as to who was
boss. And he was sure that when he'd finished with her, she'd
know for sure ...
Betty winced when she felt the giant burgeoning head probing
blindly at her fearfully cringing anus. She felt numb all over,
and her brain refused to register what was happening. She could
feel the lascivious pressure getting more insistent, and felt the
searing tightening of Doug's fingers of her softly-rounded
buttocks, and then ...
"AAAARRRRGGGGHHH ... OH GOD PLEASE STOOOPPPPP ..." Her voice
rang out piteously and her whole body shook and vibrated as she
made a last frantic effort to elude the lust-engorged penis which
was stabbing salaciously at her defenseless sphincter. But it was
useless. She couldn't move forward more than a couple of inches.
She was a complete prisoner in her husband's hands, and she was
powerless to do anything but submit to his wanton designs.
Doug continued to surge forward, straining with all his
might, until finally ...
"NNNOOOOO ... OH GOD NOOOOO ...!"
Stabs of shooting pain shot up Betty's spinal cord as Doug
finally managed to insert the thickly pulsing head of his cock up
inside the elastic-tightness of her futilely resisting rectum.
For a moment, she thought she was split in two. She was
completely stunned by the excruciating pain and her breath was
coming in agonizing gasps.
"Stop it ... stop it, please ... you're killing me ..." she
rasped hoarsely, barely able to make her voice heard.
But Doug was cruelly oblivious to his wife's agony. After a
moment or two of gathering his strength, he shoved forward again,
forcing his huge, lust-distended cock into the virginally tight,
unyielding sheath of her rectum. Relentlessly, he surged on,
searing the sensitive inner membrane unbearably, until at long
last, he was embedded to the hilt in her sorely abused anal
depths. He held it there triumphantly, watching the desperate
squirming of Betty's lewdly skewered buttocks.
"... uuugggghhhnnnhhh ... Aaaahhhh ..." Betty moaned
incessantly, unable to do anything else. She never felt so used
and debased in her entire life. The pain, excruciating as it was,
was nothing compared to the agony of her mind. She could never
hold up her head again after this terrible anal rape. She never
imagined that people did such things to each other, least of all
her own husband! And to think she'd felt guilty over using the
vibrator! That seemed very minor now in comparison with what her
husband was doing to her.
Doug began to withdraw, pulling out his long, rangy rod with
a slow movement. The tight dry inner flesh clung agonizingly to
the slowly exciting shaft, causing new pain to flood through
Betty's lewdly impaled loins.
When just the heavy, blood-filled head was still tightly sunk
inside the tiny muscular ring, Doug surged forward again, this
time without stopping, and embedded his passion-inflated cock
right down to the base in her firmly clenched back channel. Then
he began a slow, laborious in and out rhythm, the tortured rectum
finally yielding slightly and allowing him to plunge and withdraw
with greater ease.
Betty's pain lessened slightly too, but her entire frame was
still numb with shock and she didn't feel anything. Her tired
brain refused to operate, too, and she could do nothing but hunch
there in her crude position, waiting until her husband had
finished with her. Her naked buttocks felt sore and bruised, but
she was a slavish victim to her husband's greater strength and
power. But she'd pay him back, that was for sure ...
Doug fucked into his wife's widely stretched anus like a man
possessed. The very licentiousness of the act gave him new
thrills of lurid pleasure, and the knowledge that he was hurting
and embarrassing his wife in a mind-shattering way added to his
lust-incited passion. The sight of her crouched and trembling
figure filled him with a brutal kind of power and he was
determined to get the most pleasure he could from his unwilling
victim.
"Move that tight little ass of yours around on my cock,
baby," he leered suddenly, accompanying his obscene order with a
hard slap of his open palm on the flaccid flesh of her buttock.
His vile words made Betty shudder with revulsion, but fear
propelled her into giving some semblance of a response, even
though the idea repulsed her. Awkwardly, she tried to rotate the
trembling mounds of her backside, but new shivers of pain chilled
through her and she had to cease her attempts. But luckily, Doug
didn't seem to notice. He was completely carried away by the
obscene act he was enforcing, and Betty suddenly realized that he
was very near to climaxing.
His deep hard thrusts had become more convulsive, the tempo
of his brutal ass-fucking increasing with each passing second.
The thought that he would soon empty his seething hot semen into
her abused anal passage filled Betty with loathing, but at the
same time, she wanted the moment to come, so that she would be
released from this degradation. Hoarse, semi-human groans filled
the air, and Doug was like a wild beast behind her, bucking and
battering against her bruised, strained backside. He was like a
rutting animal, Betty thought, and she wondered if she would ever
forgive him for this terrible outrage. She doubted it, in her
present state of mind.
But just then, she forgot about everything in the horrendous
enormity of what happened next. Doug stiffened behind her, and
for a moment seemed completely suspended. And then, with the
force of a giant tidal wave, he began to fuck into her with hard
spasmodic thrusts. He was cumming!
"OH CHRIST! I'M THERE ...!" he groaned hoarsely, his voice
barely discernible. "AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH ...!"
Betty could feel the first onrush of the scalding fluid as it
jetted into her chafed anal depths, and it stung the sensitive
inner flesh almost beyond belief.
"Fuck back, goddamn you ..." Doug hissed lewdly, as he sent
spurt after spurt of hot, boiling sperm into her forever-stretched
anal channel. It flowed unceasingly into the fearfully cringing
interior of her helpless little belly to lie in a lascivious pool
in her tortured depths.
At last, it was over. Betty could hardly believe it when she
felt her husband's limply deflating penis begin to slip harmlessly
from her flooded rectum, and Doug himself staggered away from her
still crouching form.
Without another word, Doug ambled in the direction of the
bedroom, and Betty heard the kitchen door slam with an ominous
finality which seemed to echo through the darkened house.
Chapter 3
Betty had thought that the morning would never come. All
night long, it seemed to her, she had lain awake, her thoughts
seething with disbelief and anger over what had happened. Doug
slept on unconcernedly beside her, and the knowledge that he was
apparently untroubled by what he had done, added fuel to the fire
of her fury. When at last dawn had come, she had risen wearily,
and this morning, the brandy was very welcome in her coffee. She
had just finished her second cup when Doug had come into the
kitchen and she had silently set about preparing breakfast for
him. She didn't think she could face anything to eat herself.
"Betty, honey, about last night ..." Doug began tentatively,
hoping for some encouraging reassurance, but Betty didn't reply.
"I'm really sorry ... it'll never happen again, believe me!"
Doug's voice was earnest and humble, but Betty didn't care.
Without a word, she handed him a plate of bacon and eggs, and
poured him a cup of coffee.
"At least say something," Doug pleaded, ignoring his meal.
"I've said I'm sorry--what more do you want? I ... I guess I just
lost my temper, besides being dead tired."
"Your breakfast is getting cold," Betty said indifferently,
moving out of the kitchen and going into the living room.
Gratefully, she sank down into the soft sofa. Her husband
didn't say anything more and she was grateful for that. She
wanted to think, to go over the horrible events of last night. It
wouldn't be for the first time, of course, but she reasoned that
the cold light of day might throw a new gleam on the unbelievable
trauma of last night. She admitted to herself that she was partly
to blame, but at least, she told herself, her motives were
altruistic. She had been really worried about her husband and it
was her relief more than anything that had made her harangue and
nag at him when he came home.
He should have phoned her--there was no denying that. But
why didn't he, if his reason really was, as he insisted, that the
car broke down? Betty just couldn't figure that one out. A
looming suspicion kept nagging at the back of her mind ... maybe
he had spent the evening with another woman! No! No! Doug
wouldn't do a thing like that! I know he wouldn't ... or would
he?
Betty just couldn't bring herself to believe that her husband
was actually involved with another woman ... but why then had he
got so upset when she had questioned him? Was it because of a
guilty conscience? But worst of all, what had made him do such a
disgusting, perverted thing to her? A shiver coursed through her
as she recalled the agonizing pain and humiliation of that
degrading act. Her sorely tried rectal channel still twinged from
his cruel rape, and she was aware of a general, overall discomfort
and achiness. She still couldn't really believe that it had been
her husband who had done such a dreadful thing to her. He was
like a complete stranger, demented with depraved lust. And now,
the fact was, she didn't think she could trust him ever again. He
had broken some indefinable bond in their marriage by his wanton
behavior, and that tie could never be repaired, no matter what he
did or said.
The loud pealing of the doorbell broke in on her thoughts,
and glancing at the clock, she realized that Doug must have left
for work already. She hadn't even heard him leave. But now,
someone was at the door.
Pulling her housecoat tighter around her tall, slender body,
she hurried to the front door. Wondering who her early morning
visitors could possible be, she pulled it open, and was surprised
to find an attractive man in his early forties, accompanied by a
much younger woman, standing there.
"Good morning, Mrs. ... ah ... Fletcher!" the stranger said
in a cheerful voice.
"Good morning," Betty answered, "but who ...?" She was
bewildered by the fact that the stranger knew her name, and wished
that he'd state his business.
"I'm sorry to bother you so early, but may I come in?
There's something I'd like to discuss with you!"
Betty was surprised by his request, but felt that there was
no danger in admitting him to her home, as he was accompanied by
the young woman.
"Certainly, come in, both of you," she said after a moment,
"but you must forgive me ... I haven't dressed yet."
"Don't worry about that, Mrs. Fletcher," the stranger said
affably, following Betty into the livingroom.
When they were seated in the livingroom, he began again.
"First of all, let me introduce myself. I'm Harvey Peterson,
and this is Jean Wembley, my assistant. Now I suppose you are
wondering what all this is about?"
"Yes, I have to confess that I am," Betty said, a touch of
annoyance in her voice. What did this smooth-talking stranger
want with her?
"Well, I'm very pleased to be able to tell you, Mrs.
Fletcher," Peterson said, his voice lowered conspiratorially,
"that you have been noticed!"
"Noticed?" Betty echoed foolishly.
"Yes," Peterson went on, "out of literally thousands, you,
Mrs. Fletcher, have been noticed by our talent scout!"
"Talent scout?" Betty repeated in amazement. "I'm afraid
you've lost me, Mr. Peterson!"
"Well then, let me explain," Jean Wembley interjected
smoothly. "Mr. Peterson is head of Galaxy Models, and sends his
team of talent scouts out to search out new material. You see, we
run a very special type of model agency."
Betty was staring from one to the other, her mouth half open
in bewilderment.
"Yes," Peterson went on. "Instead of the usual teenager type
of very young woman that most agencies seek, we look for the more
striking, the more worldly type of woman. And you notice I say
"woman". We're not interested in girls or teenagers!"
"B-but what has all this got to do with me?" Betty asked,
still puzzled.
"As I mentioned, one of our talent scouts spotted you,"
Peterson explained, "at the Cross-Ways Supermarket, I think it was
..."
"Yes, I often go there," Betty agreed, "but how come he
picked me?"
"Because you're just what we're looking for!" Harvey
expostulated. "You're fantastic looking. Tall, willowy, with
that fabulous red hair. A rare beauty, in fact, and with
something extra, too!"
"What would that be?" Betty questioned, half-facetiously.
She wasn't sure she really believed the man, but on the other
hand, what he was telling her was mighty interesting ...
"Allure. Yes, in a word, allure," Peterson explained. "A
great many women are good-looking, but not many have that extra
something ... the very thing that you've got!"
"I think we'd better all have a drink," Betty said, "it's
getting too complicated for me." As she mixed the drinks, her
brain was racing wildly. What if Peterson was serious? Would he
offer her a job as a model? Images of herself, swathed in elegant
clothes, adorning magazines, with all that extra money, flashed
across her mind. She'd have a life of her own! She'd be someone
again, not just Doug's wife!
Almost trembling, she carried the drinks over to Peterson and
his assistant, and put down glass for herself on the table beside
the sofa.
"Excuse me for a moment and I'll go get dressed," she said,
glad of an excuse to get away and think clearly for a few moments.
"Don't bother on our account," Peterson said. "In fact, if
you don't mind, I'd like to take a few pictures right away."
"Pictures? Of me?" Betty said, reaching for her drink.
"Yes, for your book. You'll need one right away, although
I'm sure there are a few bookings you can get right off the bat.
But a portfolio is a good thing to have. I don't usually take the
photos myself, but in this case ..."
Betty's brain was in a whirl. She knew he was talking about
the book that all models carry around with them showing their best
and most recent photographs. But ... did that mean that he was
accepting her as a model without delay? Oh God, it was all too
good to be true ...
"But shouldn't I change into something better, if you want to
take full length pictures?"
"No, just head and shoulders will do for now. Later, when we
do the composite, we can worry about clothes."
"B-but does this mean that I'll really be a model?" Betty
breathed excitedly, taking a deep swallow of her drink.
"Honey, you are a model," Peterson said. "I'm just the guy
who'll introduce you to the public!"
"I can hardly believe it," Betty breathed, finishing her
Scotch. This new wrinkle put everything else in a new light.
When Doug found out that she had a glamorous job, was earning her
own money, meeting new people ... he'd quickly change his
attitude. He'd have to apologize for last night; have to try and
really make it up to her ... Oh thank goodness, things were really
working out after all ...
Betty's heart was singing and she barely heard what Peterson
was saying. Jean had gone out to the car to get the cameras and
Harvey was complimenting her.
"I'm sure you'll take a fantastic photograph ... with skin
like yours, and that hair ..."
Betty was uneasily aware that Peterson's eyes were traveling
hungrily down her body, taking in the curved outline of her
breasts, and fastening eagerly on the long expanse of her smooth,
slender legs. She was glad when Jean came back, laden with
cameras. She somehow felt safer with the other woman there.
Betty judged her to be in her late twenties, and thought she was
quite attractive, with her short cap of dark hair and her slight,
almost thin figure. She wondered if she had ever been a model
herself.
Harvey was busy arranging the cameras, and Betty thought they
were very impressive looking, and confusing, too. She would have
felt better if she was wearing something else other than her robe,
even slacks and a sweater, but she was hesitant to slip off and
change in case Peterson wanted her for anything.
"Right, we'd better get the info on you first before we start
taking any shots," Peterson said. Jean got out a large notebook,
and Betty gave her name, address and age.
"Now your measurements, honey," Harvey said, pulling out an
assortment of measuring tapes from his large black bag. He
measured her height first, and then took her weight as well.
"Would you mind slipping out of that robe, honey?" Harvey
asked. "Getting the right vital statistics is important!"
"But ... I've only got my nightgown on underneath," Betty
blurted. Somehow, she hadn't thought that he'd want to take her
measurements, and was vaguely surprised that he didn't get Jean to
do it.
"Don't worry about Harvey," Jean said smiling, "models are
all alike to him ... he's seen hundreds!"
Of course he has! she told herself with relief. I'm just
being stupid about the whole thing ...
She stood there in her almost transparent nightie, her robe
discarded on the chair, and Harvey approached her with a long
measuring tape. She shivered involuntarily as he reached around
behind her and placed the tape along her back, carefully guiding
the two ends around to the front.
"Must get it right on the nipples ... ah, they're good and
stiff!" he murmured, and Betty found herself blushing fiercely.
She couldn't help it. It felt so strange to have an unknown man
measuring her bust, his fingers brushing against the turgid buds
of her nipples. They seemed to strain eagerly against his light,
almost fleeting touch, and she wondered if he noticed.
"Okay, Jean, 36! Make a note of that!"
He measured her waist and then dropped the tape to circle
around the curve of her buttocks.
Gently, he draped his hands around her hips, to straighten
the tape, and Betty felt a thrill of unknown emotion course
through her. Oh God, what was happening to her? Peterson's
illicit touch almost felt good on her nearly naked buttocks, and
his fingers in front, drawing the edges of the measuring tape
together, were only inches away from the nylon-covered mound of
her quivering vagina. Betty gasped with relief when he finally
finished, and began to reach again for her housecoat.
"Let's do without that for a while, and get some head shots!"
Harvey suggested, and Betty had no option but to comply.
The next half-hour sped by in a daze of poses, all head
shots. Her neck felt stiff and sore from all the awkward
positions she had to take. But it was worth it! She could hardly
believe that it was actually happening to her. She hadn't
murmured a word of protest when Peterson had insisted on her
dropping the shoulder straps of her nightie, leaving her neck and
shoulders bare. Of course, he was right when he said that it gave
her a better line.
Jean had mixed more drinks, with Betty's permission, and now
her head felt pleasantly fuzzy. Betty knew she shouldn't have
taken the second Scotch, but she'd have felt left out if she
didn't, and besides, it helped to ease the tenseness in her body,
so unused to holding the stiff poses. Peterson seemed to grow
more and more excited about her potential as time went on,
continually exclaiming about her face, etc. and Betty could hardly
believe that it was herself he was talking about in such glowing
terms. It was all like a dream come true!
"Now, Betty," Harvey said at length, finishing his drink,
after their short break, "how about letting me get one breast
shot?"
"You ... you mean naked?" Betty said incredulously.
"Sure!" Harvey said emphatically, "that's what all the
clients want nowadays, isn't it, Jean? Why, Betty, I'm sure you
see it yourself all the time. Take up any magazine and there it
is! Bare tits to advertise everything from handkerchiefs to
airplanes!"
Betty didn't know what to say. She had to admit that
Peterson was right. Only the other day, she herself had pointed
out to Doug an ad which showed a half-naked girl, wearing only a
watch. She had commented on it, wondering why they needed nudity
to sell anything. Of course, Doug didn't even hear her--there was
no need to tell him why that sort of an ad was used.
"But ... I don't think I'd like to make an ad like that," she
said after a long silence.
"No, and you probably never will. But the fact is, the
client likes to know, just in case, and always remember, in this
business, the client is everything! He's always right!"
Betty was still wondering what to do when Jean came over to
her and put an arm over her shoulder soothingly.
"Don't worry about Harvey, Betty," she whispered. "He just
wants to take the shots, and he won't even notice. And it'll be
over in a minute!"
Jean was right. It was silly to have scruples now, and she
knew if she wanted to get anywhere in her new career, she'd have
to do what Harvey, her agent, told her.
Gingerly, Betty eased down the half-discarded nightie still
further, helped by Jean, revealing the full, milk-white mounds of
her breasts. The nipples were erect and rigid, a striking dark
red against the creaminess of her alabaster skin, and she was
aware of Harvey's bulging eyes staring at them. His piercing look
almost made her cringe and she was glad when he moved towards his
camera.
"Now Betty honey," he instructed, "put your hands under your
tits and sort of push them up and out!"
"But ... but ..." Betty faltered, her face crimsoning again.
"Look baby," Harvey said patiently, "when you start working,
you'll have to look as if you're making love to the towel, or the
box of detergent or whatever it is you're selling, so you might as
well start learning now!"
Betty felt childish and recalcitrant. She wanted to do what
Harvey told her, but some inner instinct held her back. She told
herself that she just wasn't accustomed to the ways of the world,
and what went on backstage in things like modeling. Well, I'm
learning, she told herself wryly, and, encouraged by a friendly
nod from Jean, she gently swept her voluptuously full breasts
upward with a slow, tender movement. A little shiver of pleasure
coursed through her at her own touch and she half closed her eyes,
tilting her head backward, remembering for a fleeting moment, the
unbelievable pleasure she experienced when she had made herself
climax with the vibrator.
"Great! Just great!" Harvey praised enthusiastically as he
took shot after shot.
"Okay, now relax for a minute, before we do a full-length!"
he said, lighting a cigarette.
"F-full length?" Betty stammered, staring at him
uncomprehendingly.
"Yeah, and that'll be the last. I swear, Betty, when the ad
guys get a load of these shots, you'll be in real demand!"
His exciting words did not stir Betty. She was desperately
trying to bring her reeling brain back to grips with reality. I
knew I shouldn't have taken that second drink after the brandy
this morning, she scolded herself. Harvey wanted to do a full
length of her ... he must mean her to be naked! She wanted to
tell him that she refused, that she didn't want to pose completely
naked, but somehow, she couldn't summon the will power.
"Harvey, I don't think I want--" she began tentatively, but
Peterson cut her off.
"All set, Betty?" he said, ignoring her hesitant objection.
What was she to do? She didn't want to let him take a photograph
of her naked, but he didn't seem to understand that!
"Harvey," she began again in a more authoritative voice, "I
really don't think I ought to pose naked for you!"
Peterson stared at her for a moment, his brows knitted
together in irritation.
"Look, Betty, if you want to be a model, you've got to go
along with what the agent and photographer says. If you don't you
won't get anywhere, and no agency will touch you! So what's it to
be?"
A shiver of fear touched Betty's heart. She couldn't bear
not to be a model now, not after the wonderful anticipation of the
last couple of hours. It was the answer to her prayers, and
certainly some kind of solution to the problems she faced in her
marriage. No, she couldn't let this chance slip through her
fingers ... just because of some modest, prim objection she had.
Because that's what it is, she told herself firmly. Some
advertisements did show naked woman, from the back or side view of
course, but naked they were. She was being foolish to object.
Apprehensively, she slid off her nightgown and stood naked,
quivering slightly, in front of Harvey and Jean. She felt as if
she was in a dream. She couldn't quite bring herself to believe
that she was actually standing completely naked in her own
livingroom, in front of a couple of near-strangers.
"Now Betty," Harvey said, his voice strangely husky, "just
stretch out on the couch, and sort of sprawl on your side, sort of
like Venus!"
Obediently, Betty did as Peterson told her, and lay full
length on the sofa, her head propped up with one hand, her thighs
slightly parted. Harvey was looking at her intently, his eyes
burning into her as they traveled from the ivory swell of her
breasts down to the gleaming russet triangle of her pussy. Jean,
too, was staring at her, and Betty felt uncomfortable and ill at
ease. However, she felt better when Harvey began to photograph
her.
"Beautiful, beautiful!" he kept repeating, and Betty just
wished that it was all over.
"Now just roll over onto your stomach and show that ass of
yours!"
Betty didn't care any longer about what she should or
shouldn't do. She was beginning to think that she made a mistake
in listening to Peterson in the first place, but now that she had
gone this far, she didn't care. Harvey took just two shots of her
in this new position, and then said that he was finished.
Betty was conscious only of relief. She felt suddenly tired
and her head was pounding from the drinks. Hastily, she grabbed
her robe and pulled it on.
"Betty, you photographed wonderfully--I can tell. I can't
wait to see the rushes and as soon as they're through, I'll call
you and let you know what's happening!"
"I'm glad ... glad ..." Betty stammered. She didn't know
what to say, and only wished that they'd go.
"Believe me, you're going to be a great success," Harvey
assured her as he gathered his bags and equipment.
Almost in a daze, Betty said goodbye to them and watched them
as they walked down the drive towards their car.
At last, when they were gone, she stumbled towards the
bedroom and flung herself down on the bed, all the drinks she had
consumed making her forget everything--her husband, her new
career--as she fell deeply into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 4
"I don't know when I'll be home," Doug said impatiently into
the phone. "No, don't bother keeping dinner for me. I'll grab a
bite at the canteen!"
He listened patiently as Betty tried to question him further,
but after a few moments, he interrupted her.
"Look, I've got to go now. I'll see you as soon as I can!"
He said goodbye, and with a sigh of relief, hung up the phone.
He dreaded calling his wife these days, but at least it was
better than facing her in person. He found that he was running
out of excuses, and he could hardly imagine that she believed him
when he continually said he was working overtime. But she seemed
to, and apart from her persistent questioning, she never mentioned
the matter.
Just time for a quick drink before I pick up Selma, he
decided, and ordered a brandy. The last couple of weeks had flown
by for him. Never before were his days so filled. He could
hardly wait for work to be over so that he could see Selma. His
entire life centered around her now, and he knew that she felt the
same way about him. He had never met anyone like her before, and
for the first time in several years, he felt like a complete man.
Of course, he'd been worried after he lost his temper that time
with Betty and fucked her in the ass. He'd tried to make up with
her, but she refused to have anything to do with him, so he'd
given up trying. Things had sort of reached an impasse between
them now, and they maintained an uneasy truce, but they were far
from reconciled. But Doug didn't really care. He had Selma, and
that was the important thing for the moment. Things would work
out with Betty, he was sure, and now that he was having a hell of
a good time with Selma, he wasn't too worried. Besides, Betty
seemed to have cheered up of late. It was almost as if she had
some secret that was sustaining her. She had made oblique
references on several occasions to "a change" that was coming, and
a "surprise" that he, Doug, was in for, but he hadn't paid too
much attention to that. She'd get over that business of the
ass-fucking in time ... maybe it was the best thing after all to
just ignore her and go his own way. And when someone like Selma
was at the end of that way, it sure made everything worthwhile ...
* * *
Betty could hardly believe it when she answered the doorbell
and found Harvey and Jean there. She thought for a moment she
must be dreaming.
"Oh Harvey! and Jean! I'm so glad to see you," she said
effusively, and really meant it. She was sure she'd never see or
hear anything of them again. Countless times during the past two
weeks, she had gone over the whole event in her brain, wondering
if she had imagined that Peterson had said he'd get in touch with
her. For the first few days, she had waited optimistically by the
phone, confident that at any moment, she'd lift the phone and hear
Harvey. But after a few days had passed, and he hadn't called,
she began to grow doubtful. And along with the doubt, came regret
... regret that she had allowed herself to be fooled into
believing that anything would come out of it, and regret for
having posed naked for the photographs.
As time wore on, and Harvey hadn't called, she worked herself
up into a frenzy of worry, thinking that somehow Peterson might
use the photographs against her, or worse still, have them printed
in some magazine where Doug might see them. What would she do
then? Things were looking very bleak, and were compounded by the
fact that Doug was never at home any more. Betty just didn't have
a clue where he spent his time, but he always seemed to be in a
hurry, and was never home before midnight. She didn't really care
too much, it was true, because things were definitely not right
between them. But still, it wasn't right that he should leave her
alone so much. He just didn't seem to care about her anymore and
this knowledge did nothing to improve her state of mind.
However, just when the future seemed very gray, Harvey and
Jean had turned up again almost miraculously.
Betty ushered Peterson and Jean into the livingroom, glad
that this time, she was wearing an ordinary dress, and at least
looked presentable.
"It's wonderful to see you again, Betty," Jean smiled warmly,
as she sat down on the sofa. They both accepted Betty's offer of
gin and tonics, and happily, Betty went over to the liquor cabinet
and poured the drinks.
"I'm sorry for not getting in touch with you sooner," Harvey
apologized, "but when you own and run an agency like I do, you're
kept going pretty much all the time!"
"Yes, both of us are. Although I have other staff, Jean is
my right hand gal! I don't know what I'd do without her," he said
genuinely. "And now, I'm sure you'd like to hear about your
shots!"
"Well, I was wondering what became of them," Betty admitted
excitedly.
"The first rushes came through, and believe me, Betty,"
Harvey emphasized, "they were fabulous, just like I knew they'd
be!"
"Have you got any of them with you?" Betty asked, and was
disappointed to hear that he hadn't.
"Jean and I went over them, and picked out the ones we
thought were the best, and gave them over to the photographer who
works with us to print."
"Will I have a portfolio soon?" Betty queried with interest.
"Sure. It won't be long now, but to tell the truth, you
won't have to make the rounds. Jean here was a photographer's rep
at one time and she knows the game inside out. So with her
pushing the photographer's angle and me, as your agent, pushing
you, it won't be long before you're in demand."
"But I thought it might be fun to make the rounds, for a
little while, at least," Betty said, disappointment evident in her
voice.
"So it might, honey," Harvey said, "but a busy woman like
you, with a husband and home to look after, can't spend all day
tramping around, lugging that God-almighty satchel around with you
and maybe at the end of it, getting only a call-back or two--if
you're lucky!"
"But wouldn't clients prefer to see me in person?" she
persisted, twirling her glass around in her hand.
"Sure, they would," Harvey agreed, "but believe me, the best
way is to get them excited over your book first, and then see you
in person. That way, they're bound to be sold on you!"
Betty didn't really understand Harvey's reasoning, but she
decided not to question him further. She'd just accept his edicts
without question. After all, he knew best, in this business
anyway, and she was just a raw beginner.
"When do you think I'll go out on my first job?" she asked
tentatively. Now that things were looking more definite, she
decided she wouldn't tell Doug anything until she had come back
from her first job, maybe even with her fee as well. She couldn't
wait to see his reaction when she sprung that one on him.
"Well, you may have to go out on a couple of go-sees first,"
Harvey said cautiously. "You never can tell how things will
happen. But one thing's for sure, it won't be long before you're
in the swing of things!"
"I'd like to have some sort of idea, though, if I could,"
Betty said again, hating to push the subject, but wanting
something more definite.
"You're right in wanting to be prepared," Harvey approved,
and then turned to Jean.
"Run out to the car, will you honey, and get my "Coming-Up"
book?"
Jean hurried out to the car, but in a few moments, she was
back.
"It's not there, Harvey!" she said worriedly.
"Goddamn it, I must have left it at Villiers' Studio. Now
what am I going to do?"
"Don't worry, Harvey," Jean soothed, "I'll drive over there
and get it!"
"I don't mean to put you to so much trouble," Betty said
timidly, "It's all right, really. You can phone me and let me
know!"
"No, I've gotta have that book," Harvey insisted, and shot a
grateful look at his assistant. "I'd really appreciate it, Jean,
honey!"
"I won't be long," Jean promised, and let herself out the
front door.
"How about another drink?" Betty offered, breaking the long
silence.
"Sure, as long as you'll join me," Harvey countered. Betty,
shrugging her shoulders, agreed. She didn't really want it, but
it wouldn't do any harm, especially as she had stopped taking
brandy with her morning coffee.
She sat down beside Peterson on the sofa when she handed him
his drink.
"Well, Betty, how do you feel about your new career?" he
asked amiably looking directly into her eyes.
"It's wonderful," Betty assured him wholeheartedly. "It'll
mean a new way of life for me!"
"And what does your husband think of all this?" Harvey
queried.
"I ... I haven't told him about it, yet," Betty admitted with
embarrassment.
"Why not?" Harvey wondered, idly sipping his drink.
Betty didn't quite know what to say. She could make up
something, like she wanted to surprise him, but she didn't think
she'd sound convincing enough. Maybe the truth was the best
thing.
"Well, we haven't been getting on too well of late," Betty
said in a low voice. "In fact," she said in a rush of confidence,
"we're barely on speaking terms. I hardly see him from one end of
the week to the other. It's terrible ..."
"Why, where does he spend his time?" Peterson asked.
"Oh, I don't know, working overtime, out with the boys,
something like that. I suppose to avoid coming home!"
"What kind of husband is he anyway?" Harvey said briskly.
"That's no way to treat a woman, especially a beautiful, desirable
one like you!"
Betty didn't know what happened next; she only knew that she
was suddenly crying helplessly. Something in Peterson's
sympathetic words struck a chord deep within her an loosened the
tight clutch she had on her emotions.
"Hey, what's the matter? Was it something I said?" Harvey
asked solicitously, placing a paternal arm around her shoulder.
"No, it wasn't ... I mean, yes ..." she blubbered, leaning
against his shoulder, finding relief in his consoling voice and
comforting arm.
"Take it easy, honey ..." he continued to soothe, stroking
her as tenderly as if she was a child. "Why don't you tell me all
about it?"
Peterson suppressed a secret smile. He had guessed that
Betty had some kind of problem with her husband. Now, the way
things are going, she'll play right into my hands ...
"I can't ..." Betty sobbed, "it's too terrible ..."
"But it might help if you talk about it, honey ..." Harvey
said calmly. "These things have a way of working out if you bring
them out in the open!"
"I know," Betty sniffed, "but I'm too embarrassed."
"It can't be as bad as all that," Harvey assured her, "and
don't forget, I'm not exactly an adolescent!"
Betty considered his last remark. It was true that he was an
older man, with probably a lot of experience of human problems,
and he was also right when he said that things often looked better
if discussed openly. But could she tell her secrets to an almost
stranger?
"In fact, sometimes it's even better to tell your problems to
a stranger," Harvey commented, as if he had read her mind.
"Because a stranger has a totally different outlook and is not
emotionally involved."
Betty suddenly felt that she couldn't battle on by herself
any longer. She got absolutely no support from Doug and she felt
tense and exhausted from the strain of trying to weather the storm
alone.
"The whole problem is that we're not compatible!" she
blurted, "sexually, that is!"
"Lots of young couples aren't at first," Harvey hedged,
looking down at the lovely, troubled young wife.
"But we've been married for over two years, and things are
just getting worse!"
"In what way, Betty?" Harvey queried helpfully.
"I ... I just can't ... don't seem to respond to Doug, that's
all!"
"But you're not frigid, are you?"
Betty brushed aside her instinctive objection to such an
intimate conversation with someone she hardly knew and went on
vehemently.
"No, I'm not, but Doug says I am!"
"Well, then, maybe the problem lies with your husband ..."
"With Doug?" Betty said incredulously.
"Yes, maybe he's not the right man for you!"
"But I love him!" Betty said emphatically.
"No, I don't mean that way. What I mean is," he went on
carefully, "that maybe you need a different kind of man to arouse
you!"
"Another man? But I couldn't ..."
"Not even if it would help your marriage, and Doug?"
"No! It's wrong! I just couldn't ..."
Betty was so absorbed in her conversation that she hardly
noticed that Harvey's hand was still casually caressing her
shoulder. In fact, it felt good, relaxing and soothing, so that
when she did become aware of it, she didn't particularly want it
to stop. But Harvey's conversation was getting disturbing. All
this talk about another man made her uneasy, and she wanted to
change the subject.
"Would you like another drink?" she asked at length.
"No, I'm fine. You just sit back and relax. You're all
tense and nervous. Just close your eyes and forget about
everything and in a little while you'll feel better."
Peterson's voice was almost hypnotic and Betty found herself
lying back comfortably against his shoulder, her eyes closed, as
she tried to blank all her problems out of her mind.
Harvey continued to reassure her, soothing her in gentle
tones. He looked down at the still quivering redhead and felt
desire welling up inside him. It looked like he'd have to go to a
lot of trouble to get this one, but it would be worth it, he knew.
He could barely restrain himself when he had seen her naked body
that day he took the shots. She was far better than he'd
envisioned. She was like a sculptured goddess, only a living,
breathing one. They all did--that was no surprise. But maybe he
could really use her for Galaxy. She was definitely out of the
ordinary, and maybe, after his plan had worked, he'd see if she
was still interested in working.
Casually, his hand dropped lower still until it came into
breathtaking contact with her palpitating breast. He sensed that
her breath quickened for a moment when he touched her nipple
through her dress, but she didn't say anything. He could feel the
little bud hardening under his touch, burgeoning with obvious
desire. Her whole breast seemed to strain against his palm, and
lay warm and throbbing in his hand.
"Oh don't ... Please, Harvey ..." Betty mumbled half
incoherently, but without making an attempt to stop him.
"Now just relax, honey, and don't worry about a thing,"
Harvey told her, his hand falling again to come to rest on the
bare expanse of her thigh. He felt it quiver under his touch as
he began to crawl with his fingers up along the sensitive, sleek
surface, eventually slipping in under the hem of her dress.
"No, Harvey, please ..." Betty objected again, and made a
feeble attempt to stop the approaching hand. Her brain was
reeling and she couldn't seem to get control of her senses.
Harvey's hand was on her thigh, she knew, and it was also true
that it felt good there. She wanted him to move it away, to leave
her alone, but on the other hand, she didn't know how to stop him.
If only she hadn't drunk the second gin ... she told herself
upbraidingly. But she had to make an effort to stop him before he
went any further. It was wrong to let him do this, but it felt
very good, relaxing and soothing ...
Carefully, Harvey edged his fingers upward until at last they
came into contact with the thin nylon crotchband of her panties.
It was wet!
"Oh noo ..." Betty moaned, making a futile effort to clamp
her thighs together.
"Now honey," Harvey said again, "this is going to make you
feel good. You'll really like it and it'll calm you down and you
won't be nervous or tense anymore ..."
Relentlessly, his searching fingers slipped under the narrow
legband of her panties and came into tantalizing contact with the
first straying wisps of curling pubic hair. Betty jerked back as
if stung, her eyes flying open in horror.
"NO, HARVEY, PLEASE DON'T!" she shrieked, trying to pull away
from him. But his fingers still clung between her moistened
thighs as his arm, curved around her shoulder, restrained her.
"Now Betty, you like my fingers stroking your cunt, don't
you?" he said, his voice low and husky. "Don't you? You can't
deny it ... or you would have stopped me before now ... before I
got my hand inside your panties!"
"No! I ... I ..." Betty whimpered, words failing her.
"I know you like it, Betty," he went on inexorably, "you're
all hot and wet, I can feel it ..."
A crimson blush spread over Betty's face. She did like it,
there was no denying it. And now Harvey knew. He knew that she
liked it. Oh dear God, what must he think of her?
"It's only natural, honey," Harvey went on. "You're starved
for love. Doug has been neglecting you and it's time someone paid
some attention to your beautiful, deprived body ..."
Betty couldn't stand it any longer. She was past fighting.
She felt defeated already defeated by Harvey's smooth words, which
were all too true, and by the tumult which was raging in her body.
Yes, her own flesh was mutinying--crying out for love and
attention. And she couldn't fight it!
Harvey sensed her inner struggle and felt a surge of victory.
It won't be long now, he told himself cheerfully, but I just hope
that Jean won't come back too soon and spoil it all! It had been
Jean's idea in the first place to pretend that the book was lost,
so as to have an excuse to leave him alone with Betty, but Harvey
was afraid that she wouldn't realize how hard it was to win over
the frustrated young wife. Well, he'd just have to take a chance
...
His questing fingers inched forward another millimeter and
came into exhilarating contact with the pulsating outer folds of
her tremulous pussy. He could feel the slight throbbing of the
swollen outer lips, fringed with a thin line of hairs, and then,
without hesitation, he plunged his middle finger up into the moist
darkness of her unresisting cunt.
"Aaaaagggghh ... Nooooo ..." Betty sobbed helplessly,
wriggling her buttocks in a frantic but belated attempt to resist.
She was in a daze that she couldn't break out of. With one
part of her mind, she realized that Peterson was stroking and
caressing her vagina, but with the other she realized nothing but
the fact that he was comforting her when she badly needed it, and
offering solace where Doug had failed to do so. And she couldn't
refuse that. She needed it too badly.
Harvey continued to probe the quivering wet folds and creases
of her sensitively squirming vagina, plunging deeper into the
warm, open flesh. Her thighs spread now a little of their own
accord and he began to ease down her confining panties, leaving
them dangling above her knees. Her dress was bunched up above her
hips, leaving the tingling plane of her loins exposed and
unprotected. Ruthlessly, his fingers played in the velvety
softness of her openly spread cunt, making her gyrate and twist
with mingled feelings.
Suddenly, his middle finger came into contact with the hard
little knob of her clitoris and began instantly to titillate the
erogenous little bud.
"Ooooohhhh ..." Betty sighed, unable to believe that little
wisps of pleasure were curling around deep inside her. She was
beginning to enjoy Peterson's lewd fingering! At first, she
didn't believe it possible, but her writhing moaning body was
ample evidence. Her brain, with all its feeble, warning messages
was totally ignored, and sensual rule was the order.
"Mmmmmmnnnn ... aaaaahhhh ..." she gasped again, giving
herself over completely to a greater power. She was devoid of
resistance now. She had no option but to acquiesce, and it was
obvious that her body did not mind this submission.
Involuntarily, her pelvis began to grind rhythmically up against
his nakedly swirling fingers, forcing the desire-ridden flesh
against the pleasure-giving digits.
Harvey's fingers, darting and flicking with expert agility
began to tickle gently at the tiny fluted inner lips which
surrounded the pulsing, star-shaped entrance to her helplessly
aroused body. Betty mewled with new excitement as they brushed
tantalizingly against the delicate, fragile flesh, and then, with
sudden abruptness, he plunged them into the wet, clinging cuntal
sheath.
"AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH ..." Betty sobbed in mingled surprise and
pleasure, and immediately, the soft, tender inner walls began to
milk voraciously at the dipping fingers, closing in on them like a
velvet glove. Harvey worked his fingers smoothly, expertly in and
out of the hungrily welcoming channel in simulation of fucking,
filling the room with lewd, wet, sluicing sounds.
Betty was like a madwoman now, twisting and flailing wantonly
on the sofa, her thighs lasciviously splayed, her softly rounded
buttocks grinding incessantly into the yielding cushions. Hoarse
cries of lust escaped her lips, but Betty was beyond caring. She
knew that Jean might return at any moment, but it was of no
importance. All that mattered was the unbelievable spasms of
pleasure which were shooting through her with lightning speed,
emanating from the fiery, tingling zone of her wildly excited
vagina.
Harvey's fingers were wonderful givers of unbelievable
pleasure as they plunged recklessly into the openly presented
mouth to her defenseless belly. Urged on by the rising tide of
her passion, she pounded her turgid little clitoris against his
hand while at the same time trying to coax the driving fingers
further and deeper into her greedily clasping cuntal sheath.
She was near to climaxing and she knew that she couldn't hold
out much longer. Pleasure, in maximum force, was building up to
such a pitch inside her that she knew she must cum soon or
explode. And, at last ...
"Oh God! I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Oh God, I'm cumming!"
she chanted insanely, her body flailing and thrashing out of all
control as wave after wave of undefinable pleasure washed over her
like breakers on a beach, tossing and tumbling her in their
foaming wake as they brought her to new heights of ecstasy each
time. She had never experienced anything like the tremendous
power of this release and all her tension seemed to pour from her
body, leaving it limp and exhausted, only to be tightened as a new
flood of pleasure cascaded over her. Her head seemed to be going
round and round and she felt as if she was in some kind of limbo,
waiting to be put back together again with the body which was
feeling so much sensual excitement.
Finally, the tremors began to subside, leaving her quivering
and trembling like an aspen leaf. The room began to spin around
her and she gratefully sank back on the sofa, only vaguely aware
that Harvey was leaving. She wanted to call him back, but she
didn't quite know why, but in a few seconds, he was gone, and she
was left alone with the dying embers of her fiery orgasm.
Chapter 5
The next few days were sheer torture for Betty. Every waking
moment, her brain was taunted with images of her wanton submission
to Harvey Peterson's lewd fingering, and her ears seemed to be
filled with her lascivious moans of pleasure. She couldn't seem
to focus her attention on anything, and she couldn't shake loose
from her brain the horrible memory of how she had acquiesced so
easily to the modeling agent's manipulation. But even that wasn't
the worst part, as far as Betty was concerned. If she had merely
allowed Harvey to stroke her genitals, she wouldn't feel such self
disgust and loathing, but she had enjoyed the lewd act to such an
extent that she could not forgive herself. The very basic tenets
of her upbringing balked at this betrayal by her body, and a cloud
of humiliation seemed to follow her wherever she went.
The one thing that gave her a slight feeling of relief was
that Doug didn't seem to notice anything. Betty was sure that her
guilt was written all over her face, but luckily she had already
been in bed when Doug had come home that night. But during the
next few days, although she didn't really see too much of him, he
didn't make any comment and Betty decided that the best thing to
do was to forget the whole business, if she could. But that
proved more difficult than she imagined. Her conscience was
haunted by the enormity of her transgression, while her body
continued to experience a kind of buoyant exhilaration which she
had never felt before. At times, she even found herself thinking
almost longingly of the sensual tremors which had cavorted up and
down her spine when Harvey had been caressing her vagina, but she
quickly put those illicit thoughts out of her head.
Since that episode with Peterson, she found that she just
couldn't face the morning without the soothing additive of brandy
in her coffee, and usually she had several cups of that. It was
at moments like that, when her body was relaxed and untense, when
she began to feel the recollective murmurs of pleasure. The
strong liquor seemed to dull her brain, and with it, her ever-
sharp conscience, while at the same time, it honed the edge of her
senses and emphasized the physical frustration she felt.
It was weeks now since Doug had touched her--ever since that
time when he had taken her rectally--and her body, grown
accustomed to a regular diet of love-making, was beginning to feel
the deprivation. She felt that that was the reason for her
complete and total release that day when Harvey had stroked and
fingered her vagina. But right now, she knew she was in a
quandary. Things were going from bad to worse in their marriage,
and she hardly saw Doug anymore. Now this contact with Harvey
looked like it was falling through, and she couldn't rely on being
a model as an out from her problems. She didn't know whether she
wanted to hear from Peterson again. On the one hand, she didn't
know if she could face him again, after her wanton display of lust
just a few days ago. But, on the other hand, the future he had
woven for her as a part-time model was a very enticing one,
especially in her forlorn, desperate state, and it would be just
terrible if she had to forget all about it now.
However, she didn't think that Harvey would get in touch with
her. How could he, after what he had done to her? But Betty just
didn't know what to do. Doug didn't show signs of wanting a
reconciliation, and although she really didn't want to, she would
make the first effort, if she wasn't afraid of being rebuked.
That was the trouble--Doug just didn't seem interested any more.
It was obvious that he didn't care what she was doing or feeling,
and there was no telling how long that state of affairs would go
on. And, she reflected bitterly, the root of the problem lay in
Doug's despicable behavior. If he hadn't brutalized her that
night, if he hadn't forced her to submit to his disgusting anal
intercourse, she probably would never have listened to Harvey
Peterson for a moment. It was only because she was so upset and
depressed over that incident that she went along with Peterson ...
and where it had lead her?
Tears brimmed her eyes and trickled down her face. She had
finished her second cup of coffee and brandy, and she still didn't
feel an better. It was now four days since she had seen Harvey
and had allowed herself to be so disgustingly used, and things
seemed to be getting worse.
Dear God, what am I to do? Betty wept helplessly, unable to
hide her misery and unhappiness any longer.
At that moment, the phone rang.
For a long second, Betty stared at the instrument, hardly
able to believe that it was actually ringing. Probably a wrong
number, she told herself, and then with alacrity, she leaped up
and grabbed it.
"Hello!" she said breathlessly.
"Hello! Is that Betty?" It was Harvey!
The blood drained from Betty's face and her head started to
reel.
"I hope you're not busy today," Harvey said quickly, "because
I've got an assignment for you tomorrow."
"An assignment?" Betty echoed, her brain racing.
"Yes, at 9:30 tomorrow morning. And you're to wear their
clothes, so you've got to go for a fitting today. You'll be paid
half your hourly fee for that. Can you make it at 12 noon today?"
Betty was speechless. Her thoughts divided abruptly in her
dazed brain and she didn't know what to say. She had an
assignment, tomorrow! She just couldn't believe it ... but how
could Harvey call her like that, without any word or reference to
what happened.
"Well, can you make it?" Harvey barked impatiently.
"Harvey, I don't ..." Betty stammered, still not knowing what
answer to give. Oh God, she'd love to take the job, but shouldn't
she just disassociate herself completely from Peterson?
"Look, let me put it this way. The client, Nor-Dansk
Furniture, are only just sold on you. They originally picked a
blonde because of the Scandinavian image, but I sold them on the
idea of a redhead as a gimmick. Now if you don't want it, or are
you going to be choosy, they'll jump for the blonde!"
No, I couldn't bear to lose it, Betty thought immediately.
There's no harm in it ... I probably won't see Harvey again for a
long time, and it is just what I want ... a chance to break into
modeling.
"Okay, Harvey, I'll be there ..." Betty said breathlessly.
"Good girl," Harvey said, and gave her an address in one of
the best sections of town. "All right, I'll see you at noon," he
said as he hung up.
For a moment, Betty was stunned with her good news. She was
going to be a model! A glance at the clock told her she had only
an hour to get there, and she hurried into the bedroom. Then she
recalled Harvey's parting shot. He'd be there! Trepidation
filled Betty's heart. Harvey would be there, and she'd have to
face him again.
But she wouldn't back out. She had to see him again sooner
or later, and besides, there was bound to be other people there.
No, she'd have to take the plunge. After all, that was what life
was all about. What happened a few days ago was all a mistake.
If Harvey tried anything like that again, she'd let him know where
she stood ...
* * *
Harvey Peterson, noting that it was almost noon, poured
himself a drink and offered one to Jean. Betty would be here at
any moment and if she saw that they were already drinking, she'd
accept one more willingly. She really swallowed everything I told
her, he congratulated himself. Still, he had to admit that he was
feeling a little nervous. But that was not surprising. Betty was
one hell of a woman and he didn't want to slip up. Of course, the
client had been thrilled when they saw the shots of her and had
wanted her immediately but Harvey thought he'd throw that bit in
about the blonde to make the bait more appetizing. With hesitant
types like Betty, you couldn't be too careful. He hadn't really
been surprised at Nor-Dansk Furniture's wild response to the
shots, and had hedged that he had to see if she was available.
Well, if things worked out his way this afternoon, he just might
get Betty to do the ad for them. After all, it would keep her
happy and would result in a nice, fat fee for him.
At that moment, the doorbell sounded and Harvey knew that it
was Betty. She was wearing a very elegant pantsuit and appeared
poised and calm. But she seemed surprised that there was no one
else but himself and Jean there.
"In cases like this, when we're in a real hurry, Jean and I
just pick up the outfits from the client and fit them here in my
apartment. It saves time and a lot of trouble."
Betty thought the explanation plausible and greeted Jean
warmly. There was a sort of rapport between the two women and
Betty was genuinely glad to see the older woman again.
"Any problems with fitting, Jean can handle it," Harvey
assured her, and then offered her a drink.
"But shouldn't we ..." she began hesitantly.
"A quick drink will loosen you up," Peterson told her and
poured her a double Scotch.
Betty accepted it and sat beside Jean on the sofa.
"The ad is to be built around an elegant sitting room, with
Nor-Dansk furniture the main attraction. But they want to have a
very stunning woman, who is obviously getting ready to entertain
some guests, to adorn the furniture. And that's where you, and
these dresses," pointing to several long evening gowns, "come in!"
"They're beautiful!" Betty gasped in awe.
"The client thinks you're far more beautiful," Harvey said
truthfully. "Now if you're ready, Jean can help you into one of
the dresses. Try the silver lame one first."
Betty, when she stood up, found that she almost lost her
balance and had to cling to the other woman for support. Oh God,
what did I drink? she wondered as she stumbled over to the other
room. Her head seemed to be reeling and she was glad that Jean
was helping her, as the dress was tight and close-fitting. But
when it was finally on, it looked as if it had been molded to her
body. Jean wouldn't let her wear a brassiere, and the low, deep
"vee" in front emphasized her voluptuously full breasts. There
was a split, almost thigh-high in one side and the shimmering
material sparkled and glinted as she moved. Jean wouldn't allow
her to wear panties or stockings, either, saying that unless they
were specially made, they would spoil the lines of the dress.
Betty had felt strange about stripping completely naked in front
of the other girl, but Jean didn't even seem to notice. She added
a few touches to Betty's mane of tawny hair and then ushered her
out to where Harvey was waiting.
Betty had forgotten almost about her incident with Harvey
because he had been so pleasant, and so businesslike, but now, as
she stepped into the living room, clad in the sexy, provocative
dress, the memory of her submission and arousal came flooding back
and crimsoned her face with embarrassment. Harvey's eyes seemed
to devour her body, feasting on her sensual cleavage, riveting on
the smooth sweep of her graceful hips.
"Pretty good ... pretty good ..." he said at length, after he
had instructed her to turn slowly around. "But I think the black
might be better!"
"I think this one is pretty spectacular," Jean said, and
Betty had to agree with her.
"No, let's try the black," Harvey insisted. "After all; you
don't want to outshine the furniture!"
Jean moved towards Betty and began to pull down the zipper of
the dress.
"But ... but ..." Betty said startled, as she felt the edges
of the dress fall away from her back. "Let's go into the other
room!" she finished quickly.
"Why, honey?" Harvey sniggered. "I already know all your
secrets ..."
Betty felt a fiery blush creeping up her face. What did he
mean? He had seen her body naked, when he had taken those
photographs, but was he referring to the other day when he had
fingered her pussy?
"I'd rather change in the other room," she said meekly,
turning towards the door.
"Oh, don't be silly, Betty," Jean said briskly, easing down
the dress, revealing Betty's proudly upswept breasts, the nipples
already stiff and erect.
"Please, Jean," Betty began, tears starting to her eyes.
"You've got nothing to hide, have you?" Harvey said, his
voice vaguely sneering.
Betty felt as if she had been turned to stone, and she stood
motionless as Jean slipped the dress down over her hips. Numbly,
she stepped out of it, and stood there, naked and shivering.
"Go get that black number, will you, Jean?" Harvey asked.
"Why, where is it?" Betty asked, suddenly not wanting to be
alone with Harvey.
"It's just out in the car; I won't be a moment," Jean
replied, and Betty was aware of mounting panic. This was just
like the other time, when Jean had left on a sudden pretext.
Betty had been left alone with Harvey ...
She turned wild, staring eyes on him, as if seeing him for
the first time.
"Don't worry," Harvey said smoothly, "Jean'll be back in a
moment. In the meantime, just relax. Sit down and make yourself
comfortable ..."
As if in a daze, Betty sat down on the sofa, and as she did
so, Harvey moved very close to her, and then, he was kissing her!
For a moment, she was too surprised to do anything as his lips
bruised down on hers, and his tongue shot between her unresisting
teeth. His arms were tight around her and his jacket felt rough
on her bare, naked flesh.
"Stop it! Stop it!" she said at last, recovering her
equilibrium, desperately drumming at his chest.
"Why should I?" Harvey leered. "Just relax and you'll enjoy
it!"
"Leave me alone! Get away from me or I'll scream!"
Harvey laughed, a coarse, triumphant laugh.
"What if someone comes running after you scream? What then?"
Betty stared at him uncomprehendingly.
"They'll see you sitting here, completely naked, and what'll
they think?" he elaborated gleefully.
Realization dawned on Betty. He had trapped her ... but what
was he going to do to her?
"What do you want from me?" she said tonelessly.
"Just do as I say, honey, and everything will be all right,"
Harvey replied, his hand casually fondling the frustratedly
trembling mound of her breast.
"And if I don't?" Betty asked defiantly.
"Mmm ... your precious Doug might be very interested in those
shots I took of you a couple of weeks back ..."
"You wouldn't!" Betty hissed disbelievingly. "You wouldn't
show them to my husband!"
"Sure I would ... if you don't go along with what I want!"
"And what do you want?" Betty asked in a frail whisper.
"Why, nothing more than a taste of that sweet little cunt of
yours!" Harvey said lasciviously, his hand dropping to the flat
plane of her stomach, and further still to tangle among the first
straying wisps of her red pussy hair.
Betty's head swam. Oh God, it couldn't be true. What had
she let herself in for?
"Now honey, you might just as well do as I say ... after all,
you might enjoy it!"
"Enjoy it?" Betty hissed vehemently. "Never! I'd rather
die!"
"Well, well, listen to who's talking. It seems to me as if
you didn't mind too much when my fingers were rummaging around in
your cunt a few days back!" Harvey spat furiously.
Betty's face blanched and self-loathing welled up inside her.
He was right, of course. She had enjoyed his lewd handling. What
must he think of her? No wonder he thought he could get away with
anything with her ...
"Please, Harvey," she began again in a different vein. "let
me go. It doesn't matter if I don't get the job. Only don't
touch me, please ..."
"You don't seem to realize, honey, that I hold all the cards.
Whether or not you get the assignment depends on me, and don't you
forge it. And as for not touching you, remember that the evidence
against you looks pretty condemning ... those nudie shots, you
here naked with me now ..."
Betty closed her eyes to blot out the picture she portrayed.
Foolishly, she had let her imagination run away with her, had let
herself be persuaded into posing nude for this unscrupulous man.
Now he had her in his power ... and there was nothing she could
do.
She gasped suddenly as she felt his fingers dip between her
creamy thighs, and felt the first searing contact between his hand
and the gently pulsing outer flesh of her trembling vagina.
"Oh nooo ... stop ..." she gasped helplessly as his fingers
continued to probe and search among the wet, velvety folds,
probing deeper and more insistently with each passing second.
Futilely, she tried to clamp her alabaster-white thighs together,
but it was no use. He was the one in control; he had her in his
power.
"Now, baby, you can't tell me you don't like it ..." Harvey
leered, his eyes lighting with lust as he stared down at the naked
woman.
His words cut Betty to the quick. Because she couldn't deny
it. Her body was responding in exactly the same way as it had a
few days ago ... she was beginning to get aroused from his illicit
fondling. Although her brain reeled with the enormity of what was
happening, and disgust and utter mortification flooded through her
veins, her body reacted unquestionably in a sensual, wanton tremor
of delight. She wanted to deny it, to cry out that he was wrong,
that she wasn't enjoying it, but she couldn't. Because she was,
and he knew it! There was no use fighting it. He had her in his
power not only by virtue of the weapon of the photographs and his
threatened blackmail, but also by the force of pleasure he was
giving her with his nakedly swirling fingers. Involuntarily, her
thighs crept farther apart, revealing the moist pink slit of her
quivering pussy to his marauding digits. Pleasure surged through
her, lifting her up on to a magical plane of ecstasy, and her
whole body took on a rhythmic churning as low mewls of pleasure
flowed unchecked from her mouth.
"Open your eyes, honey, and look see what daddy has for you
..." Harvey rasped huskily, and Betty unconsciously responded to
his summons.
A startled gasp escaped her lips as she stared at the huge,
throbbing shaft of his fully erect penis, held obscenely in his
free hand. She couldn't take her eyes off it. She hadn't
imagined that anything could be so big. It looked powerful and
strong, and it was an angry red color from the blood that was
pumping lustfully through it.
"No, please, Harvey," she whimpered piteously, frightened at
the grotesque size and apprehensive of what was to come.
At that moment, the door opened, and Jean walked in.
Oh thank God! Betty gasped silently. Now he'll have to stop
... Jean will help me, and I'll just put on my clothes and leave,
and never have to see Harvey again. Oh thank goodness, she came
back in time ...
"Well, Harvey, you certainly didn't waste any time!" Jean
said cheerfully, staring at the naked outstretched redhead on the
sofa, and glancing briefly at the hard, heavy protuberance of
Peterson's cock.
Oh God, what does she mean? Why isn't she doing something?
Betty thought wildly.
"I'm a fast worker, you know that, Jean," Harvey laughed,
fondling his lust-engorged penis between his fingers.
"I'm sure you got lots of help," Jean retorted. "Betty looks
as if she's really hot for you!"
Betty felt like screaming out No! No! It's not like that!
But her mouth was dry and no words would come. She couldn't
believe that Jean thought she wanted this. But what else could
Jean think? She, Betty, was lying spread-eagled on the couch, the
openly receptive slit of her vagina lewdly presented, while Harvey
hovered above her, his blood-inflated penis outstretched and
ready. Betty's last avenue of retreat slammed shut. No one could
help her now. If she appealed to Jean, the other woman probably
wouldn't believe her. There was nothing she could do!
She drew in her breath sharply when she felt the hard,
unyielding flesh of Harvey's poised penis nudging at the softly
quivering outer lips of her vagina. She tried to draw back, but
the couch confined her. She couldn't close her thighs, because
Harvey was crouched up between them.
"Nooo, Harvey, please ..." she begged softly, and then ...
"AAAAGGGGHHH ... NOOOOOOOO ..." she wailed aloud as Harvey
pushed relentlessly forward, straining almost unbearably the
fragile tissues of her cuntal hole. He hesitated then, for a
moment, gathering his strength, pushing the burgeoning head of his
hunger-distended shaft past the protecting, petal-shaped opening.
"OH GOD ... YOU'RE KILLING ME ..." Betty sobbed as the giant
rod cleaved into her unprepared flesh, forcing its way up into the
dry, clinging passage. Without hesitation, Harvey continued to
plunge forward, the hard, long tube of his cock splitting the
cringing inner walls with brutal intensity.
"Uuuuugggghhhhnnn ... aaaaahhhh ..." Betty whimpered, her
thighs cruelly spread, her futilely resisting vaginal sheath
assaulted unmercifully by the lust-bloated hardness of Harvey's
hard-driving penis. He'll tear my vagina she thought fearfully as
he finally hit bottom, the heavy, sperm-laden sac of his testicles
slapping lewdly against the upraised crevice of her buttocks. She
could feel the rubbery head nudging against the tender tip of her
cervix and she wanted to cry out against this unwanted ravishment.
The knowledge that Jean Wembley was watching her debasement added
to her humiliation, and she wondered again how she had let herself
be manipulated in this way. Oh God, what a fool I am, she thought
bitterly, biting her lip as Harvey began to withdraw, pulling
little pink tendrils of fragile pussy flesh out with his rock-hard
shaft as it withdrew. Then he surged forward again, this time
burying his long, lunging cock to the hilt with one deep, hard
stroke.
"Aaaaaarrrrhhh ... uuummmmppphhhh ..." Betty gasped again as
all the breath was forced from her body. But at last, her
feminine juices began to secrete, and Harvey was able to begin a
rhythmic sawing in and out. His hands tightened on her hips,
holding her firmly in place as he labored over her. He drove
nakedly up between her widespread legs, sinking his passion-
distended shaft completely in her moistly clinging cunt, and then
withdrawing almost totally, until just the hard, mushrooming head
was still imbedded in the tight pussy-hole.
And then the thing that Betty had never believed possible,
happened. At first, she did not believe it; couldn't bring
herself to accept the reality of what was happening. But after a
few moments, she just couldn't hide it any longer. It was
completely obvious that she was beginning to enjoy being fucked by
Harvey!
A deep shuddering tremor shook her body and then it began a
rolling churning of its own violation, little sparks of pleasure
burst into raging flames deep between her legs and her whole body
was bathed in a warm flood of intense arousal.
At first, out of deep mortification, she tried to hide it,
tried to still the quivering between her legs. But her desire and
passion was more powerful than her will power and she couldn't
hold back any longer.
"Mmmmmmnnnnn ..." she sighed, spiraling her pelvis upward to
receive Harvey's deep inthrusts, her heated cunt flowering open in
eager acceptance. Cautiously, her hands crept up and encircled
Harvey's neck, pulling him hard down on her palpitating breasts,
and in a daze, she moved her mouth up to clamp on his, her tongue
hungrily flicking between his teeth. Passion raged out of control
in her love-starved body, and she locked her ankles around his
lower back, and clung to him with a new voraciousness. Suddenly,
she couldn't seem to get enough of his pleasure-giving male body.
She wanted to infuse every part of him. The heady muskiness of
his heated flesh assailed her nostrils and made them flare with
new-found pleasure, and her being and senses were united in a
quest for ultimate satisfaction.
All doubts and fears were forgotten in the mad rush of
sensual excitement. She had no idea it could be like this.
Certainly it never was with Doug. She had never responded like
this, never felt the wild tremors of pleasure she was feeling now.
Even the fact that Jean was watching her wanton behavior gave her
an illicit thrill, and nurtured an exhibitionistic streak inside
her that she never knew she possessed. She didn't care anymore
that this lascivious coupling with a man who was not her husband
might be wrong. She only knew that somehow he had the wonderful
key that was unlocking her uninhibited responses, and somehow she
couldn't feel that making use of that key was wrong.
Their bodies were slapping wetly together in rising cadence.
They clung to each other in mutual desire, their flesh warm and
heated with passion. They bucked and rocked as one, united where
his lust-maddened cock drove incessantly up into the hungrily
clasping depths of her eager cunt.
"You sure know how to fuck, Betty ..." Harvey gasped between
clenched teeth, and his lewd praise gave her an added tingle of
excitement. Fucking. Yes, that was what she was doing, fucking
another man ... and she was enjoying it.
Betty's thoughts took on a kaleidoscopic image of how she
must appear, naked, perspiring, flushed with lust, her head thrown
back, her long russet hair streaming over her voluptuously curved
back. Now, in one moment, all her thoughts and feelings seemed to
converge on the pivotal point there between her legs, and she knew
instantly that she was almost ready to climax. Her first real
orgasm, and it was with another man ... not her husband! But
Betty didn't care who or how she was getting this unbelievable
pleasure. The main thing was that she was at last about to
receive it. That she wasn't frigid, like she had so often feared
she was. No, she was a full-blooded real woman, and Harvey was
the only one to discover it.
Suddenly, all rational thought was extinguished as a great
rush of warm sensual excitement flooded over her body, making her
feel as if she was drifting on the tide of some warm, calm sea.
"Ooooooohhhhh ... I'm cumming! Oh God, Harvey, I'm cumming!"
she shrieked suddenly, not recognizing her own passion-distorted
voice. The words seemed to hang in the still air above her for a
moment before crashing down to resound and echo a hundredfold in
her ears, reflecting the rise and fall of the tiny waves of
multiple pleasure crashing around inside her feverish body.
"Ooooohhhh! Ooooohhhh! Ooooohhhh!" she sobbed helplessly,
her curvaceous young body undulating with the force of her
continuing orgasm.
In the back of her brain, she realized that Harvey was
climaxing too, and then he was pounding against her with
unbelievable fury, battering his loins against her upraised
openly-spread cunt.
"I'm cumming too! Keep fuckingg ... Aaaaaghhh ..." Betty
felt the first spurt of seething hot sperm as Harvey called out
wildly, and it jetted in a thick stream into the hidden recesses
of her hungrily milking pussy. Greedily, her inner sheath
clutched at the flowing fluid, absorbing it all in its heated
darkness, and Betty was filled with a strange, satiated peace.
The hot, white sperm that poured into her helplessly flooded
little belly seemed to infuse her with warm relaxation, and she
was able at last to lie back, breathing deeply and heavily with
complete satisfaction.
At last, Harvey's twitching cock began to deflate inside her
wet, steaming passage and slipped harmlessly from between her
legs, leaving her empty once more. But she was changed now.
She'd never be the same again. Harvey had truly liberated her,
something that her own husband couldn't do ... and she wouldn't
have missed this for anything. Now, come what may, she was
forever free from the shackles of prudery, and she felt a real
debt of gratitude to Harvey, which she knew wouldn't easily be
erased.
Chapter 6
Doug was beginning to regret that he had called and invited
Selma for lunch. Not that he didn't want to see her, of course,
but she was so happy and excited, looking on this as an extra
special treat, because usually they only saw each other in the
evening. Now he dreaded telling her the real reason for wanting
to see her. They were sitting lingering over liqueurs and Doug
knew he had to take the plunge.
Drawing a deep breath, he began.
"Selma, I've something to tell you!"
Selma looked at him in surprise, amazed at his intensity, but
immediately she sensed that something was wrong.
"What is it?" she said apprehensively.
"I ... we've got to stop seeing each other!" It was said, but
instead of feeling relief, he was aware only of misery, and the
look on Selma's face didn't help any, either.
"What?" she hissed, her voice low and angry.
"I just can't see you any more ..."
"Well, this is an interesting new development," Selma said
icily, her fingers toying with the tiny glass. "Your charming
wife must have found out about us. Is that it?"
"No, it isn't," Doug gulped. "But to tell the truth, I'm
afraid she might, and I've hurt her enough without this."
"So your conscience is beginning to bother you at last!"
Selma snapped, heedless of the other diners in the restaurant.
Doug colored. He'd decided to break off with his mistress
several days ago, but couldn't find the courage to do so. He
didn't really want to stop seeing her, but he had been involved
with her now for nearly two months, and in all that time, things
had gone from bad to worse with Betty. He knew he had started it
all by fucking her in the ass that one night, and things hadn't
been the same since. At first, he noticed that Betty was
depressed and irritable, but over the past couple of weeks, she
seemed suddenly to have changed. She said she had a new part time
job, and bought new, fashionable clothes, and she seemed hardly to
be home at all. Now that the tables were turned on him, Doug
didn't like it at all and decided that he'd rather have the old
Betty back ... even if it mean severing his relationship with
Selma.
"So it's all over," Selma breathed angrily, her eyes
flashing. A cold rage was seething through her and she was aware
of a consuming hatred for her lover. She had really enjoyed her
affair with Doug. He was one of the best lovers she'd ever had
and she had reveled in his admiration. He seemed to be really
crazy about her too, and she had even begun to entertain thoughts
of something permanent ...
"You bastard!" she hissed viciously. Men were all the same.
They didn't mind having affairs, and told their mistresses how
fabulous they were, but when the little woman at home lifted her
finger, no matter how nagging or difficult a wife she might be,
they all went running back with their tails between their legs.
"Selma, everyone is looking at us," Doug said, his face
reddening.
"I don't give a damn who's looking or listening," Selma spat,
her voice rising. "You can't just throw me over like this. I
deserve something better."
"I'm really sorry," Doug said earnestly, "but ..."
"Don't "but" me, you lousy rat," Selma shrilled, "you just
want to go back to that bitch of a wife of yours, and after all
you told me about her, how she was frigid, how she was a nagging
slut ..."
Doug felt ready to sink into the ground. Everyone in the
restaurant was looking at them and Selma's voice was strident and
perfectly audible.
"C'mon, let's get out of here," he said sharply, his fingers
digging into her forearm. With relief, she responded to his
order, and meekly followed him out of the restaurant. That's one
place I'll never go to again, Doug vowed as he stepped out into
the light.
"Now look, Selma, I'm sorry we have to part like this," he
said threateningly, "but if you're going to make another scene,
I'm going to leave you right here on the pavement."
"Go on, run, you goddamned bastard," she railed, "but don't
think you're getting off so easily. I'll pay you back for leaving
me in the lurch like this, don't you worry!"
Furious, Doug turned on his heel and walked away, leaving
Selma's threats to disintegrate behind him in the street's busy
atmosphere.
* * *
"Okay, spread those long legs of yours, honey," Harvey
rasped. "Daddy's got a new treat for you today!"
Betty lay back luxuriantly on the huge bed in Harvey's
apartment and obediently parted her long, slender legs. The deep
bed felt like soft billows of cloud, and Betty was only too glad
to give herself over to her lover's attentions. She had grown
accustomed to him over the last month or so, or rather, her body
had.
She didn't know what she'd do now without Harvey. He seemed
to fill her days and undoubtedly made life worth living again. In
fact, her entire life seemed to have undergone a radical change,
and it was all due to Harvey. The most important thing of all, of
course, was the fact that he had succeeded in awakening her
sexually, and actually continued to arouse and excite her. For,
after that day when he had tricked her into submitting, she found
she looked forward to when she could see him again. Harvey
himself was just as wound up about her, and managed to see her
almost every day. Usually Jean was with him, and after awhile,
Harvey introduced Betty to threesomes. At first, she was shocked,
but when she found that the fun was tripled, she began to like
being involved in a trio.
Another fringe benefit of being involved with Harvey was that
she was actually a working model! Harvey managed to get her
plenty of jobs, starting, of course, with the Nor-Dansk
commercial. She really enjoyed her work, and although it was only
part time, she still found it tiring. However, her hourly rate
was very good and she was able to buy lots of new clothes. The
only dim spot of the horizon was Doug. Things just weren't
working out and she got a depressing, unhappy feeling every time
she thought about her husband. But I won't think about him now,
she told herself, instead I'll think only about Harvey ...
Harvey settled himself between Betty's widespread thighs and
stared at the tempting furrow of her fully exposed vagina. He
could see the pink flesh glistening wetly between the slightly
swollen outer lips, and he could just barely make out the
burgeoning tip of her clitoris. Carefully, he placed a finger and
thumb on each fleshy fold and gently drew them apart, baring the
petal-shaped opening, pulsing softly between the purplish, fluted
inner lips. He heard Betty draw in her breath quickly, and then
before she had time to realize what was happening, he reached down
and flicked out with his long, wet tongue.
"Aaaaahhh! Aaaahhh! AAaaaaggghhh ...!" Betty sobbed,
flailing her hips wildly. She hadn't realized until the very last
moment that this was what Harvey had in mind, but it was too late
now to stop him. So this was the special treat! She had never
let him do this to her, even though he had often wanted to, and
she ha seen him do it to Jean. But somehow, to her, it was wrong,
almost perverted, and she hadn't allowed it. Now, Harvey was
kissing her down there!
Harvey continued to swipe at the moistening pussy split with
his pink, darting tongue. He could taste the sweet cunt-taste of
her pussy and inhaled her feminine perfume as he bent eagerly to
his task. Tentatively, he furled his tongue and began to dip it
into the folds and recesses of her sensitively squirming pussy,
probing deeper and harder into the velvety softness. He swirled
it round and round, holding her in place by a vise-like grip on
her thighs.
"Nooooo dooon't ..." Betty wailed helplessly, still unable to
accept the illicit tonguing. But even as she protested, she
became aware of new, but familiar sensations tingling deep inside
her. Her body, honed to a fine edge of pleasure over the past
weeks, reacted instinctively to this new variation, and began to
respond to the sensual flicking of Harvey's deft tongue.
Slowly, her cream-white thighs began to spread further apart,
revealing more and more of the gleaming wet pinkness of her
hungrily alive cunt. A long tremor curved her spine and sent
little shock-waves of pleasure curling out to the very ends of her
fingers and toes and she was aware of a red blush suffusing her
face. Involuntarily, she flexed her trembling vaginal mound,
forcing the searingly sensitive flesh of her pussy against the
furiously working length of Harvey's wet tongue.
"Mmmmmmmnnnnn ..." she sighed ecstatically as spasm after
spasm of mounting pleasure convulsed through her. Oh God, it was
good, this licking and slavering at her cunt. She had no idea it
could be so good ... why had she waited so long to experience it?
Harvey sensed her acceptance with excitement. He knew that
she couldn't hold out for long, not the way she was now.
Sometimes she hardly seemed like the same woman to him. She was
absolutely voracious now that he had awakened her, and her
appetite was equal only to his own. He felt proud of his protegee
and was glad that she was accepting this oral form of lovemaking.
Diligently, he continued to thrust his stiffened tongue into
the darkness of her writhing pussy, until he came into contact
with the burgeoning bud of her erect little clitoris.
"Aaaaaarrrrrgggghhhh ..." Betty sobbed, her hips grinding
helplessly against the bed, as he trapped the erogenous little bud
between his teeth and began to titillate it with his swirling
tongue. He could feel it hardening and stiffening under his
swipes, and could feel the furious pulsating of the blood through
it too. Then, finally, he released it and searched lower with his
tongue, trailing it along the fluted edges of the inner cunt-lips,
brushing playfully against the star-shaped pussy-hole.
Betty's body was moist with perspiration, and she was mewling
incessantly. Her ivory thighs clamped viciously against Harvey's
face, holding him against the tingling plane of her vagina as the
sensitive flesh of her pussy rimmed his nose and mouth. Her
nipples felt taut and stretched in passion, and her lips were dry
and parched. She seemed beset by a feverish shuddering, and knew
that what she was feeling now was a completely new kind of
excitement, totally different from anything she had experienced
before. She moaned again as she felt Harvey's expertly darting
tongue flick eagerly at the clasping edges of her pussy orifice,
tantalizing them almost beyond belief.
Then, suddenly, Harvey stiffened his probing organ and
without hesitation rammed it headlong into the churning passage of
her cuntal sheath.
"Oh God ... AAAARRRRRHHHH ..." Betty cried as she flailed her
buttocks wildly as a reaction to the new, weird sensations.
Almost immediately, her inner channel began a hungry clasping and
milking of the buried tongue, almost pulling it out of its
moorings in its greedy attempt to assimilate it completely.
Harvey continued to thrust wildly in imitation of fucking,
stabbing with the pseudo-phallus, rotating it in the grasping
softness of her wet, steaming pussy.
He worked slavelike up between her outstretched legs, his
face bathed in moisture, his furiously licking tongue slavering as
he sought to give her the maximum pleasure. He could feel the
tremors that were emanating from her frenzied, lust-demented cunt
vibrating throughout the length of her creamy, lithe body, and her
entire frame shook and undulated with the convulsive spasms of her
passion.
Betty was in ecstasy. Her incoherent moans filled the room
and her hips were thrashing wildly against the bed, her inner
vaginal passage contracting rhythmically around the wet, slippery
tongue sawing in and out. She was sure that she must climax soon,
but yet, she wanted this incredible experience to go on forever,
even though she knew she couldn't bear the unbelievable intensity
if it did. Vaguely, she was aware of the door opening, and
realized that Jean must have come back. The thought that perhaps
the other woman was watching her in this lewd, wanton pose did not
disturb her; in fact, it gave her a thrill of added illicit
pleasure.
Sometimes, she could hardly believe that she herself was the
same person as she used to be. Her mind had seemingly enlarged to
accept all variations of physical pleasure, and she was ready for
anything. Harvey had taught her that anything that felt good and
exciting between two or more people couldn't be bad, and she
agreed with this tenet. She just couldn't understand how she
could have allowed herself to go on as she did before, living a
sort of half-life. She was aware of new movement on the bed, and
her brain quickly assumed that Jean had sat down beside them to
get a better view.
But, in the next minute, events happened so quickly that
Betty wasn't aware at first of what was happening. She realized
with sudden apprehension that Jean was moving closer to her, and
then she was aware of a moist, pulsing warmth over her face, which
moved inexorably closer, until ... Jean was actually sitting on
her face!
For a moment, Betty's breath was suspended and she froze into
a state of shock. She had never realized that anything like this
could happen, had never visualized it happening to her!
Betty didn't know what to do. Unreality seemed to have taken
over, but Harvey kept on licking and sucking at her heated, openly
throbbing cunt, and the sensations of pure, passionate arousal
continued to surge through her. But apart from that, the
inescapable fact was that Jean was astride her face, her wet,
pulsating pussy firmly planted on her mouth! Her soft, supple
thighs gripped Betty's face in a strong grasp, holding her
immobile. Oh God, what am I going to do now? she thought
helplessly, her reason deserting her for a long moment.
She hovered mindlessly on the edge of indecision. But a
sudden, piercing thought assailed her. Why stop now? The
revelation burned into her brain like a red-hot arrow. Why
hesitate now about licking Jean's cunt, after all you've been
through? Why not pass on to the other woman, who was after all,
her friend, the wonderful pleasurable sensations that Harvey was
arousing in her? Why not indeed? With lurid suddenness, the idea
of kissing another woman's pussy while her lover was slavering and
groveling between her own legs, struck Betty with the force of a
mailed fist.
And, without giving herself time to think, she reached out
tentatively with her tongue and dabbed at the throbbing pink
openness of Jean's quivering pussy. It felt and tasted amazingly
good and Betty was rewarded by a sobbing moan from Jean, who began
to screw her moistly pulsing pussy down on Betty's now-eager
mouth. Again, Betty reached out with her tongue and began to
swipe carefully at the wetly squirming flesh, dipping her organ
deeper and harder each time into the velvety folds. She began to
savor the sweet taste of the other woman's vagina, and inhaled the
exotic fragrance of her redolent cunt.
She stiffened her tongue and burrowed it incessantly into the
sensitively writhing flesh, tasting the first flow of excitedly
secreting feminine juices which misted down over her wet, flushed
face. Eagerly, she sought out the hard little knob of the other
woman's clitoris and titillated it cunningly between her teeth,
and then began to nibble excruciatingly at the soft little inner
lips which lay like a protective collar around the clenching
star-shaped hole of her grasping pussy.
Betty sucked and licked ravenously at Jean's grinding pussy,
just as Harvey, spurred on by the sight of his assistant astride
his mistress's face, slavered lewdly between Betty's cream-white,
moisture-drenched thighs. Jean's softly clenching buttocks were
like flaccid mounds around Betty's chin and her ivory smooth
thighs were clamped in a vise-like grip on either side of her
face. Betty moaned with mounting pleasure into the secret warmth
of Jean's tingling cunt as the other woman's hands reached down
and began to caress and fondle her palpitating breasts, tweaking
the hardening little nipples between her fingers, adding to the
tremendous swells of pleasure swirling through her.
Betty was reaching new heights of undreamed-of pleasure. She
reveled in taking part in such a lascivious trio in a way she had
never experienced before, and the idea that she was actually
licking and kissing another woman's pussy filled her with
perverted excitement. She had never dreamed that she, Doug's
wife, would ever get involved in anything like this, and certainly
not so wholeheartedly. But as she told herself again and again,
she was a changed woman now, and her body had become accustomed to
all kinds of bizarre sex.
Jean was moaning and mewling like a wild animal above her,
bouncing around on her face with quickening jerks, and Betty
realized that she must be approaching orgasm already. Then,
suddenly, Betty felt the other woman's body stiffen almost like a
rock, and then she seemed to explode in a million fragments.
"Aaaaaahhhh ... I'm cumming! Cumming! Cumming!" Jean
sobbed, her body twisting and flailing almost out of control.
Betty's face was drenched with her flowing secretions and she
thought she'd suffocate from the frantic grip the other woman kept
on her pussy-covered face.
But even as Jean was moaning with passionate abandon, Betty
felt the familiar spasms begin to contort her own body. Harvey
redoubled his efforts, forcing his exhausted tongue again and
again into the frenetically clutching sheath of her hungrily
welcoming vagina, swirling it around with maddening deftness.
And then, for Betty, too, the moment was there.
Her cries of intense pleasure were buried and muffled in
Jean's still throbbing pussy, as her whole body flailed and
gyrated like a top, her thighs viciously glued to Harvey's face,
grinding her lust-swollen pussy against his pleasure-giving mouth.
Wave after wave of almost unbearable pleasure assailed her,
and the full force of her warm orgasmic juices cascaded down over
Harvey's furiously working mouth. Jean had already fallen back on
the bed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. It seemed to Betty as
if the room was revolving around her and she was aware of nothing
but the tingling between her legs, which still erupted into sparks
of searing ecstasy which showered through her aroused flesh and
burned into the very core of her being.
When at last, her body was quiet, but still warm and flushed,
she released her thigh-hold on her lover, and collapsed back on
the bed beside the woman to whom she had given pleasure equal only
to that which she herself had received.
Chapter 7
Doug felt strangely nervous as he pulled up in the driveway,
and the sight of the strange car did nothing to soothe his
apprehension. It was three days since he had broken off with
Selma, and he had decided to make a real effort to patch things up
with Betty. But she seemed so busy lately. She didn't come home
until late in the evening the first two days, and last night, she
had been so moody and preoccupied that he hardly dared broach the
subject.
A definite change had come over her, and Doug just couldn't
figure out what it was. It certainly wasn't just her new job or
the new clothes she bought. She just seemed like a different
woman. More mature, and more sensual somehow. But what was the
use of this dynamic new change if she persisted in ignoring him?
So he had determined to take the afternoon off from work and try
to get to the bottom of things. He figured that she'd be at home
this afternoon, and after they had solved the problems that lay
between them, he'd take her out to dinner.
He had decided that he wouldn't mention his affair with
Selma, not right now, anyway. He didn't think that Betty would
understand, and it might make her distrustful of him. No, far
better wait until their relationship was well and truly cemented
again. He didn't recognize the automobile in the driveway, but
shrugging, decided that it probably belonged to a girlfriend of
Betty's. Whoever owned it, he just hoped she didn't stay too
long. He had plenty to say to his wife--in private.
Letting himself in the back door, he was surprised at how
silent the house was. He felt sure he would be greeted by
feminine laughter and the tinkling of coffee cups.
"Betty?" he called softly, wondering where she was. A quick
glance out at the backyard convinced him she wasn't there. Then
he heard it. A low, almost indiscernible moan. And it seemed to
be coming from the livingroom! The door was closed and Doug
hurried over to it. His hand grasping the handle, he hesitated.
Had he imagined it? Maybe Betty was in there, having a private
discussion with one of her friends. He'd look foolish if he
stalked in there. But there it was again! That muffled moan,
almost a sob, that seemed as if someone was almost in pain!
And then, Doug felt as if he had been turned to stone when a
loud, impassioned voice rang out clearly.
"Oh God, Harvey, keep licking my cunt like that! It's
driving me crazy!"
The blood drained from his face and he stared in
unadulterated horror at the still-closed door. Who was in there,
and who had called out like that? Certainly it wasn't Betty--he'd
know her voice anywhere. But who was it? Strangers who had
broken in and who were now lewdly fornicating in his living room?
Doug had to know. He had to find out what was going on.
Firmly turning the handle, he pushed open the door to his
livingroom and stepped inside.
His mouth hung open in undisguised horror and his eyes seemed
to glaze with disbelief as he stared at the lascivious sight that
met his incredulous gaze. For a long moment, he had difficulty
untangling the maze of wet, naked writhing bodies on the floor.
He didn't recognize the dark-haired woman who was stretched out,
naked and flat on her back, her legs obscenely spread to allow a
stranger, a man he'd never seen to grovel lewdly between them.
But he had no difficulty recognizing the long slender alabaster
body stretched out half-way down the length of the stranger's
rangy frame. The tawny red hair was unmistakable, but he had
never seen a look like the one that wreathed her face as her lips
ovalled around the thickly pulsating shaft of the penis that was
sunk halfway into her mouth. It was Betty, his wife, who was
sucking the stranger's cock!
Doug's head was reeling in disbelief. He just couldn't
believe that his wife, Betty, was actually taking part in this
wanton threesome. That she was actually licking and sucking
another man's cock while that man slavered and kissed some other
woman's pussy. He just couldn't believe it!
He stared in horrified fascination at the salacious scene.
The dark-haired woman seemed transported with ecstasy, and he
could see the wet, pulsating furrow of her pink slit gleaming
under the deft strokes of the stranger's tongue. Her face was
masked with pure lust, and her hands were tangled in the man's
hair, pushing his face harder down against the burning, writhing
flesh of her lust-demented pussy.
Doug's disbelieving eyes traveled down the length of the
lascivious human sex-chain, and came to rest again on the heavy,
blood-inflated rod that was pumping lewdly between his wife's
rounded lips. Her eyes were half-closed and there was a look of
unadulterated pleasure on her face as she continued to move her
shapely lips up and down the length of the pulsating hardness
rammed between them. Her hand was cradling the heavy, sperm-
bloated testicles with a loving gesture, while her other hand was
embedded firmly in the nest of dark pubic curls at the base. She
was kneading with a rhythmic squeezing on the squirming scrotum,
completely engrossed in her obscene task.
Doug's head swam with his incredulous emotions. Nothing had
prepared him for the shock of seeing his wife like this. The
actual fact of her infidelity still hardly registered with his
numbed brain and he was almost sure that at any moment he would
wake up and find gratefully that it was all just a bad dream.
Who was this man whose cock she was sucking; And who was this
other woman who was displaying her vagina so openly to be kissed
by the man? Doug continued to stare at the nightmare scene. He
wanted to run over there and tear them apart, stop this disgusting
act that was going on in his own living room.
But he couldn't! He was rooted to the spot, immobilized by
mingled disgust and incredulity. He was mesmerized by the
rhythmic suckings that were transpiring a few feet away from his
amazed eyes, and his ears were filled with the lewd, wet,
slavering sounds. The three naked bodies were intertwined
completely and seemed to undulate with a single, overwhelming
tremor. Words of rage and horror choked in his throat as he stood
there, staring, powerless to do anything else.
"Ooooohhhhh ... I'm going to cum!"
The dark-haired woman called out suddenly and Doug stared as
her entire body stiffened, and her back arched up off the floor.
Her head was thrown back and her hands were like claws digging
convulsively into the man's tossed hair. And then, she was shook
with a hundred tiny spasms and Doug thought he could see every
nerve ending quivering. Loud passionate moans rent the air as she
ground her buttocks down on the floor and forced the desire-
demented plane of her fiery pussy against the frantically licking
tongue that was gallantly burrowing into the viscous tunnel of her
cunt.
Doug thought, not without sympathy, that the stranger would
surely suffocate from the tight grip her thighs held on his face,
and his nose and mouth seemed to be completely covered by the
streaming, pink flesh. At last, the desperate pounding grew less
and Doug saw her release the man's head, and she finally lay back,
obviously completely satiated and exhausted on the floor. The
man's face was moist and flushed, but Doug saw something else
there, too. Hi visage was masked with passion, and it was obvious
that he was almost ready to climax as well. Then the enormity of
what was about to happen assailed Doug. He was going to cum in
his wife's mouth! His hands doubled into fists and an angry red
blush crimsoned his face. But just as he was about to rush over
and stop this revolting travesty, the man's voice halted him.
"Oh Christ, nobody sucks cock like you do, honey," he moaned,
his whole body quivering with pleasure.
The laudatory words stung Doug like a whip. That stranger
was praising his wife ... nobody sucks cock like you do ... and a
feeling of rage welled up in him. She never sucked my cock! he
told himself furiously. Instead she sucks that goddamn bastard's
... Painfully, Doug recalled all the times he had tried to get her
to kiss and lick his penis, but her horror, her obvious revulsion
had stopped him from forcing her any further.
And now ... his eyes stole back to where his wife was milking
voraciously on the jerking rod of hardened male flesh between her
lips. He just couldn't believe that it really was his wife who
was licking that guy's cock to the point where he was just about
ready to climax ...
"Oooooohhhhh ... keep suckinggg ..." Harvey suddenly called
wildly, and then his pelvis was thrashing uncontrollably against
Betty's face, and he was forcing his huge, distended penis halfway
down her throat, his hands like steel talons forcing her mouth
further down on his lust-inflated shaft.
Doug stared almost uncomprehendingly at the scene. Oh God,
she'll choke, he thought involuntarily as he watched the first
convulsive ejaculation of the man's sperm into his wife's mouth.
He could see her cheeks hollowing and filling, and knew that she
was swallowing the other man's hot, seething sperm. A knot of
rage and envy gnawed at his stomach as he watched his wife receive
the stranger's lewd male offering in her mouth, and he wanted to
go over there and punch that goddamn bastard to a pulp. But still
he hesitated, held in thrall almost by the incredible scene he was
witnessing. Betty's mouth continued to suck wildly on the rapidly
deflating penis, and a look of disappointment flitted across her
face when it became obvious that she had milked him dry.
Finally, it slipped helplessly from between her wet shining
lips and Harvey collapsed in a crumpled heap on the floor, while
Betty looked longingly at his limply reclining cock.
Suddenly, Doug couldn't stand it any longer. His fists
raised threateningly, his face a fiery apoplectic red, he rushed
into the room.
"What the fuck's going on here?" he bellowed, staring
aggressively at the three naked forms on the floor.
Betty stared in dumbfounded horror at her husband. Her face
blanched with fear and she wished the ground would open and
swallow her up.
"D-Doug ..." she breathed in panic, hardly daring to look at
him.
"Yes, it's me, your husband ... or have you forgotten all
about me?" he sneered angrily, taking a step towards her.
But Harvey casually interrupted.
"So you're Betty's husband," he said languidly.
"Yes, I am, and who the hell are you?" Doug whirled around,
his eyes blazing.
"Let me introduce myself," Harvey said suavely, "I'm Harvey
Peterson, and this is my assistant, Jean Wembley!"
Doug stared at the man in undisguised disgust and then
shouted furiously, "Well, Harvey Peterson, you're going to get a
busted jaw from me right now."
Betty stifled a gasp. She had never seen Doug in such a
rage, not even when he had taken her anally, and she was
desperately afraid of what he would do.
"Hey, take it easy, old man," Harvey pleaded, "there's no
need to get in a panic ... nothing to get upset about!"
"Nothing to get upset about!" Doug expostulated. "I come in
here and find my wife sucking your cock while you eat this other
broad's cunt! And you tell me to take it easy! Why, I ought to
break your goddamned neck!"
Doug's face was white with fury and he was dancing with rage.
But Harvey seemed unconcerned. Betty, her heart pounding, called
softly to her husband.
"Doug, honey, please ..."
"Don't you "honey" me," he said scathingly, "you two-timing
bitch. How many men have you sucked off right here in my own
living room?"
"There's no need to be so vulgar, Mr. Fletcher," Harvey
drawled, casually picking himself up and reaching for his clothes.
"You keep out of this," Doug threatened, "and leave me to
deal with this scheming little whore my own way!"
Betty cringed pitifully under her husband's invectives. Oh
God, why did he have to find her with Harvey? He'd never forgive
her, never! Their whole marriage was in ruins, and it was all her
fault. Oh in God's name, why did she have to jeopardize it like
this?
"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, you goddamn
little slut?" Doug ranted, standing over her like a menacing
giant. Betty was afraid to look up, afraid to face her husband's
wrath. Shame and mortification cloaked her in scarlet, and tears
rushed to her eyes. And then, an unfamiliar voice rang out,
startling all four people in the living room.
"Now let's hear your story, Doug!"
Doug whirled around in disbelief, his eyes blazing.
"S-Selma!" he gasped, unable to believe the evidence of his
own eyes.
"Yes, it's me," the lovely blonde drawled, coming into the
living room. "And now maybe, Mrs. Fletcher," she smiled at Betty,
"you'd like to hear what your husband has been up to!"
"Doug, who is this woman?" Betty said uneasily, only just
getting over the shock of the unexpected interruption.
"I'll tell you who I am," Selma said, casting a threatening
look at Doug.
"Please, Selma," Doug begged, fear clutching at his throat.
"I'm Doug's mistress!"
"Oh no!" Betty gasped, tears trickling down her face, unable
to stand the truth of what she had heard.
"Or at least I was, until three days ago," Selma amended,
pleased with the result of her announcement.
"Well, well, what an interesting new development," Harvey
said, looking eagerly over the voluptuously curved blonde. "I
didn't know your husband was getting some nookie on the side, did
you, Betty?"
"N-no, I didn't," Betty said in a small voice. She couldn't
bring herself to look at her husband, let alone at his beautiful
mistress.
"Yes, Doug and I have had a lot of fun these last two
months," Selma went on inexorably, "but tell me one thing, Doug,"
"W-what's that?" Doug said, his face ashen.
"How come you told me your wife was frigid and unresponsive?
It looks to me as if she is a real hot little number!"
Betty gasped audibly at the girl's effrontery. But it wasn't
her fault. It was Doug's. Oh God, what did he tell that girl
about her?
"You're right about that, Selma, believe me," Harvey
interjected. "It looks as if Doug has been mistaken all along.
But I must congratulate him on his taste, both in mistress and
wife!"
Nobody paid any attention to Harvey's last remark. Doug was
standing, his head lowered, his hands hanging loosely by his
sides. Betty was huddled in a cringing heap on the floor, and
Selma was staring speculatively at Harvey. Jean was calmly
picking up her clothes.
"Why don't we leave the Fletchers alone for a few moments,"
she suggested easily, leading the way to the bedroom, "I'm sure
they have a lot to talk about!"
Harvey and Selma agreed, and Doug and Betty were left alone
in the living room.
Chapter 8
For a long moment, there was complete silence. Doug made the
first move.
"Betty, honey ..." he began tentatively, his voice soft and
hesitant.
The gentleness of his tone was too much for Betty; she
dissolved into tears, her shoulders shaking, her face covered with
her hands. In a moment, Doug was beside her, cradling her in his
arms.
"There, there, don't cry, baby ... it's all right now," he
soothed, pulling her to him. Somehow, the knowledge of her
infidelity didn't matter quite so much when it was shown in
perspective with his own misdemeanor. He knew, deep down, that he
had been wrong to berate her over her transgression without
mentioning his own, and was also sure that if Selma hadn't come in
just then, he would not have revealed his affair to his wife.
But Selma had been the last person he expected to see. He
knew she was upset over the ending of their affair, but he never
dreamed that she'd go to this length to get revenge. He figured
that she must have called the office and found that he had gone
home early, and had decided to follow him in the hopes of a
confrontation with Betty. But she was probably just as surprised
as she was to find Harvey and Jean there as well.
"I'm ... I'm sorry, Doug," Betty sobbed, clinging to her
husband. Shivers trembled her body and she couldn't stop crying.
It had been so terrible the whole encounter. First of all, the
shock of being discovered by Doug when she was involved in a
lascivious threesome with Harvey and Jean, and then the crowning
blow of discovering that Doug had been unfaithful to her, just as
she had been to him.
"And I'm sorry, too, baby," Doug said heartfeltedly. "I
guess it's all my fault, really," he confessed shamefacedly. "You
see, I first met Selma that day when I ... when I did that
terrible thing to you ... that's why I was home so late!"
So that was the reason for his terrible temper, Betty
thought, he was feeling guilty!
"But you see," he went on tentatively, "I never would have
been interested in Selma if things had been going right between
us!"
"I know," Betty agreed, "and a lot of the fault is mine, too.
I see that now!"
"You do?" Doug said disbelievingly.
"Yes, and it took Harvey to point it out to me ..."
"What's that son of a bitch got to do with it?" Doug raged
defensively.
Betty laughed, feeling some of the strain melting away from
her.
"I'm glad to see you're jealous ... that you still have some
feeling left for me!"
"How can you say that ... if you only knew how I felt when I
walked in and saw you ... sucking that bastard's cock!"
"I do know," Betty insisted, "after all, Selma was pretty
honest about your relationship."
It was Doug's turn to feel embarrassed.
"It's all right, darling." Betty said soothingly. "I can
understand why you got involved with her. I wasn't much fun for
you, frigid as I was!"
"Well, you weren't ..." Doug protested, not knowing what to
say.
"Don't worry, I realize now what an idiot I've been," Betty
smiled. "To tell the truth, I don't know how you put up with me
these two years. But all that's changed now, thank goodness--and
Harvey!"
She saw her husband's face darkening and put out a
restraining hand.
"Now don't go getting uptight about Harvey. Whether or not
you know it, you owe him a debt of gratitude."
"What! Gratitude for--"
"For making a woman out of your childish wife!" Betty
finished firmly.
"It certainly makes a man feel like shit when he finds out
that his wife has to go to another guy to get satisfaction!" Doug
said bitterly, turning away.
"But don't you understand, darling," Betty insisted, "for
some goofy reason, I just couldn't let myself go with you. I
needed the jolt of an illicit affair to set my wheels in motion."
"How's that?" Doug questioned suspiciously.
"Oh, I don't rightly know," Betty replied honestly. "I just
know that it works. And as far as I'm concerned, that's the main
thing. How or why doesn't mean a damn!"
Doug had to admit that she was right. Of course, it irked
him to think that he had failed to arouse her completely, and that
she had responded fully for the first time to a complete stranger.
But he knew he'd get over that in time. As she said, the main
thing was that she was finally released from her prison of
prudery, and was free to be exactly what she was--a fully
liberated woman. But a nagging doubt remained. Suppose she only
responded with Harvey ... or some other man. Suppose things were
just the same between them? What then?
"Betty, why don't ..." he began, wondering if he should
suggest what he had in mind. But Betty seemed preoccupied with
the sounds coming from the next room.
"Let's go tell the others we've made up," she said happily,
leading him towards the bedroom, completely oblivious to the fact
that she was stark naked. Quite a change from the Betty I used to
know, Doug smiled to himself as he followed her. He decided to
hedge his plan of trying out whether the transformation that had
come over his wife applied to making love with him as well, and go
along with what she wanted.
She threw open the door of the bedroom, and then stopped
short. Doug, too, gave a gasp of surprise as he stared at the
lewd goings-on on the bed.
Another lascivious threesome had formed, Doug saw, with once
more, Harvey taking a leading role in events. He was skewering
wildly between Selma's widespread legs, while Jean was astride the
blonde's face, her legs wrapped around her shimmering, golden
head. He experienced a momentary stab of jealousy as he saw that
Harvey had monopolized Selma--first his wife, and now his
mistress--but as he watched, he was aware of a curious feeling of
excitement. It was a far different feeling than that he had felt
when he had discovered Betty sucking Harvey's cock, but this was
different. Betty and he were reconciled, and he could look on
this new development with something approaching composure. Not
that he was likely to feel that for long, for already he could
discern that his prick was beginning to grow along his leg,
pressing against the confining fabric of his pants.
Betty was watching the scene with avid interest. She
couldn't help feeling disconcerted by the sight of Selma's lovely
golden body, her flesh soft and buttery. Her husband's mistress
was beautiful, without a doubt. And obviously, Harvey thought so
too. Betty could see the familiar length of his lust-inflated
shaft pumping rhythmically in and out of the clasping wet tunnel
of the teenager's eagerly receptive cunt, and Betty could just
barely catch a glimpse of the moistly gleaming pinkness as Harvey
withdrew. Jean, too, was obviously enraptured by the newcomer.
Her head was thrown back, her hard, upswept breasts pointed and
excited. The muscles in her thighs were standing out like
whipcord as she maintained her thigh-grip on Selma's buried face
and bounced up and down incessantly as shivers of pleasure stabbed
at her tingling pussy.
Betty's eyes traveled back to her lover, an saw that his
hands were clutched convulsively onto Selma's gleaming gold skin,
holding her inexorably in place. His body was bathed in
perspiration and he didn't even seem to notice that Jean was also
getting her share of fun from Selma. He continued to fuck
mercilessly between the long, tapering legs which were now curling
around his lower back in a possessive gesture, and Betty could see
the flexing and unflexing of his hirsute buttocks as he drove his
thick, hard shaft to the hilt between the softly swollen flanges
of Selma's openly throbbing cunt.
He raised her pelvis a few inches off the bed from the force
of his tremendous thrusts, and Betty could see the sperm-laden sac
of his balls dangling lewdly beneath his pile-driving cock. She
was surprised that she didn't feel any jealousy as she watched the
lust-inciting scene. She actually didn't mind watching her lover
fuck her husband's mistress. Certainly the sight excited her, but
it didn't make her envious. She had Doug back again and he was
all she wanted. Turning her head slightly, she was aware that her
husband was sidling over towards her. A quick glance downwards
told her that he was aroused by the lascivious scene as well. She
could see the growing protuberance of his burgeoning cock, pushing
against his pants, and with a swift movement, she brushed her hand
lightly over it.
"Oh God, honey, don't do that!" Doug hissed between passion-
clenched teeth.
"Why not, baby?" Betty smiled, pressuring the swollen organ
once more with her sensitive fingertips. "It's big and hard,
isn't it ..." she mused, her eyes half-closing.
Doug stared at her in amazement. He could hardly believe
that she was talking this way, let alone touching his cock in that
provocative gesture. He stared hard at her face and was
astonished at what he saw mirrored there. Desire was written all
over her lovely smooth features. Desire ... but who was it for!
His heart pounding painfully, he looked questioningly at her.
"Ooohhhh ... get naked, honey ... quick!" she gasped, her
fingers tightening around the throbbing hardness of his erect
prick.
Doug could hardly believe his ears. He stared
uncomprehendingly at his wife, afraid that he had misunderstood
her.
"Oh baby, let's fuck ..." she pleaded, her eyes full of
longing.
Doug needed no second urging. His hands began to tear at his
clothes, pulling off his shirt, ripping down his pants. He was
urged on by the lewd, sibilant sounds coming from the bed where
Selma, Harvey and Jean were thrashing around in an obscene tangle
of sucking and fucking. His blood-swollen penis leaped up happily
when he freed it from the confines of his trousers, and his heart
gave a painful thud when he saw Betty's eyes lighted on it,
widening with interest and excitement.
In a moment, he made a wild rush at her, lunging towards her
with all the tremendous intensity of his desire. He caught her in
a tight bear hug, knocking her off balance and they both tumbled
to the floor, unaware of everything but the heated, passionate
closeness of their bodies.
He ground his mouth down on hers in a demanding kiss, and was
thrilled when her lips parted obediently to admit his probing
tongue. Her own wet tongue fenced and swirled around his lewdly
dabbing tongue, whipping up a froth of their mutual saliva. Her
arms tightened around his neck and she clung to him, her body
straining eagerly against his. He could feel the hardness of her
turgid little nipples digging into his chest, and she flexed the
hair-covered mound of her vaginal "vee" against the nudging shaft
of his palpitating cock.
From across the room, they could hear the mounting moans of
pleasure, and knew that the trio were near to climaxing. Somehow,
the knowledge of the crescendoing of excitement only a few feet
away from them spurred on their own, and Betty's thighs parted of
their own volition in obvious invitation to her lust-maddened
husband. Immediately, he guided the huge, blood-bloated head
towards the small quivering opening to her body, and placed
against the delicate flesh.
For a moment, he held it there, savoring the fragile, almost
ephemeral contact between her soft feminine vagina and the
throbbing hardness of his heated male cock, and then he couldn't
hold back any longer. He would know soon if his worst fears were
to be realized. He would discover if Betty could respond to him
as completely as she did to Harvey. Drawing in his breath, he
placed a hand on either of her soft, quivering inner thighs and
drew them further apart, revealing the full pink moist slit of her
waiting pussy.
Then he surged forward with all the strength that was in his
desire-driven body.
"Aaaaaaarrrrgggghhhh ... Ohhhhhh ..." Betty wailed as she
felt the giant instrument cleave through the futilely resisting
cuntal sheath, and forge its way into the darkness of her moistly
giving vaginal depths. But Doug, driven on by a lust-maddened
demon that was guiding his instinct, ignored her moans and
continued to saw relentlessly into the clinging passage.
"... uuugggghhhhhhnnnn ..."
Another painful inch.
"Aaaaaahhhhhh ... uuummmppphhhh ..."
And then, he was in!
"Oh God, you're too big!" Betty gasped, hardly able to
breathe. She felt completely stuffed with her husband's big,
thick cock, and it seemed to be expanding inside her with every
passing second. She was sure it would explode from the tight
restricting pressure of her still-resisting cuntal channel.
Doug held it there for a moment, and then, slowly began to
withdraw. Her smooth inner membrane was dry and unyielding and
pulled out painfully as he exited, and when just the burgeoning
head was still tightly imbedded in the squirming orifice, he
plunged forward again, ramming it in with full force. He ignored
the feeble resistance and sunk his pounding cock right to the hilt
in her helpless little belly.
Without waiting, he began to establish a rhythmic sawing in
and out, holding his wife firmly by the hips. He drove into her
with deep hard strokes, hitting bottom each time, his heavy,
churning balls slapping lewdly against the upraised crevice of her
softly rounded backside, and then withdrawing smoothly until just
the hard rubbery head was still buried between her splayed thighs.
Her eager, grasping pussy finally began to lubricate,
allowing his pistoning cock to slip in and out with greater ease.
As she became more accustomed to his enormous girth, her hips took
on a gentle undulation of their own as they began to respond to
the familiar movement. She began to grind her buttocks down into
the floor, flexing her tingling cunt upward to receive her
husband's instroke. Her full, voluptuous breasts were quivering,
the nipples hard and erect. Her head was thrown back wantonly,
her flame-colored hair framing her lust-wreathed face like a
blazing halo. Her arms reached up and wrapped themselves around
his neck, and she bucked against him with increasing rhythm,
matching her thrashing with his frantic pounding.
"Ooooohhhhh ... Oh God yessss ..." she gasped through desire-
clenched teeth as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her,
wearing away the grittiness of any resistance she might have left
to her husband's fucking.
Doug was in seventh heaven. This was beyond his wildest
dreams. Betty was responding to him in a way he had never
imagined possible. But he had often daydreamed about something
like this happening, but had never thought that it would be
anything but a dream. And now ... he could hardly believe that
the beautiful, sensually aroused woman, flailing and twisting
around wantonly beneath him, was his wife! His prudish, frigid
wife! Well, that Betty was gone, that was obvious. She was truly
liberated, just like she said, and she had made him the happiest
man in the world. After this, he would never need another Selma
again--Betty was definitely enough for him!
Betty was carried away into a world of her own. Her body was
afire with pleasurable sensations, and her brain was alight with
joy. She was fucking Doug, and for the very first time in her
life, deriving full, total enjoyment from it. It was fabulous!
Far, far better than she had ever imagined, and much better than
with Harvey. Now that the shame and fear of the confrontation had
passed away, Betty was glad that it had happened. Otherwise,
things might have gone on the way they were going indefinitely,
and their marriage might have been irretrievably wrecked. But
thank goodness, things had come to a head and now she and Doug
were free to enjoy each other to the fun.
Engrossed in her thoughts, and riding the crest of her
mounting pleasure, Betty failed to notice that there was a new
movement on the floor beside her. She gasped in surprise when she
felt an alien hand on her hip, and wondered with a pang of panic
who it could be. She realized then that the sounds from the bed
had ceased and knew that they must have climaxed. But who was
crouched beside her now? She could hear the heavy breathing, and
had a moment of fear. Was it Selma, come to separate her from her
husband? Then, just when she was about to make an effort to
discover who had joined them, a voice whispered in her ear.
"Betty! Betty! It's me, Harvey!"
Harvey! Oh God, what was he doing here?
His hands were racing over her body, trailing over her hips,
pulling and kneading at her buttocks.
"Roll over, honey, don't forget Harvey!" he leered, his voice
rasping, and Betty froze with fear. What did he mean? What would
Doug say? Before she had time to think any further, she found
herself being shifted, pulled over sideways, and then she found
herself astride her husband, his charging cock still pile-driving
into the darkness of her hungrily receptive cunt.
Betty still couldn't figure what was going on. Harvey was
still stroking and caressing her, but Doug didn't seem to mind.
Now his hands were fondling the flaccid half-moons of her ass,
straining the soft pliant mounds apart, pressuring the crevice of
her backside almost beyond belief. She didn't know what to think.
What was Harvey doing? Why didn't he leave her alone with her
husband? And then she drew in her breath with a sobbing gasp when
she felt the illicit probing of his finger at her secret anus.
"AAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH ..." she cried out with sudden vehemence
when with brutal strength, Harvey rammed his middle finger forward
and inserted the tip into the tightly clenched sphincter.
Oblivious to her pain, he continued to burrow it into the rubbery
giving passage, forcing it in to the first knuckle. Tears of
agony started to Betty's eyes and desperately she tried to wriggle
her cruelly sundered ass to dislodge the unwanted intruder but her
frantic movements only seemed to encourage the penetrating digit
to enter further. For a few second more, Harvey rotated it inside
the clinging sheath and then mercifully withdrew it, leaving Betty
consumed with relief.
But her relief quickly turned to dread when once more she
felt him pulling apart the soft flaccid mounds, his fingers like
pinpricks of steel needles in the tender flesh.
"Spread that little ass of yours, baby," he leered
lasciviously, "Harvey's comin' right in!"
Oh my God no! Betty thought desperately as he heard his
salacious words, and then she felt the insidious nudging of his
already fully erect cock against the tiny rubbery opening. Oh
God, he couldn't! He just couldn't! she sobbed frantically in
silence, trying to pull back from the hard probing.
But she was held immobile by her husband's fucking in front
and by Harvey's cruel grip in back. She was powerless.
She closed her eyes in agony as the pressure on her cringing
little rectum grew more intense, and then ...
"OH GOD STOP ... YOU'RE KILLING ME ..." she sobbed wildly as
all thought was blanked out by the searing sheet of pain which
enveloped her. For a moment, she was aware of nothing but that
incredible agony and then when it cleared a little, she realized
that Harvey had penetrated her anus with his huge penis.
"Oh please stop, Harvey," she pleaded again, "you're
splitting me in two!"
But Harvey continued to force hi lust-swollen cock into the
futilely resisting rectal passage, splitting the sensitively
squirming flesh unbearably, straining the tight little anus beyond
belief. The sight of her helplessly pinned body, impaled like a
fluttering butterfly at the end of his brutalizing cock, gave
Harvey an added impetus of sadistic satisfaction and he surged
forward until he had sunk it to the hilt in her tortured back
passage. He held it there, tightly encased by her inner membrane,
and flexed it slightly, adding to the shivers of pain already
clutching at her tormented body. Then he began to withdraw,
finding the return journey less arduous as her sorely tried anus
began to secrete a slight lubrication.
He began a slow, rhythmic fucking in and out of her gradually
loosening rectum, and at last began to fuck in to her in time with
her husband's instrokes below. The two driving cocks slammed as
one into her twin passages, brushing enticingly against each other
through the thin dividing membrane, and as the terrible pain
cleared, Betty realized that something else was taking the place
of that all pervading sensation.
She was beginning to enjoy it!
She was beginning to get excited by the crude anal fucking
that her lover was giving her at the same time as her husband was
screwing into her in front. Her body was buffeted like a rag doll
between the plunging cocks of the two men, and she began to churn
helplessly from the dual sensations. She flexed her desire-ridden
cunt forward to receive Doug's deep inward thrust below and then
arched her satiny buttocks backward to welcome Harvey's hard,
savage stroke behind.
"Oooooohhhhh yessssss ..." she moaned as she found herself
soaring on the heights of incredible pleasure. She actually loved
this double fucking, by her husband and her lover at the same
time. She loved having them both drive into her in unison,
sinking right to the depths of her helplessly aroused belly, and
then withdraw at the same time, leaving her painfully empty for
just a moment, before plunging in again.
Betty was filled with a wild, almost dizzy happiness. She
was excited as she never was before, but the main thing was that
Doug obviously didn't care about Harvey anymore. She was able to
respond fully to him, and that was the important thing. She was
free to enjoy his body to the full, and anything else was only
incidental. This dual fucking she was receiving was symbolic,
too, of her new freedom. She was irrevocably changed now. There
was no fear that she'd fall back into her old ways after this, and
she was glad to leave them behind. A whole new world was opening
up to her and she couldn't wait to step into it.
She was jerked back to the present by the realization that
Doug was going to cum. His body was flailing like a dervish
beneath hers, and his palpitating prick was diving into her
greedily clasping cunt with new strength.
"Oh God, I'm there! I'm cumming!" he cried suddenly, and
then Betty felt her entire cunt being swept aside by the rush of
his orgasmic churning. The first hot spurt of his scalding semen
flowed into her wildly dilating cunt, seeping into the squirming
recesses and creases. Her hungrily milking pussy sucked
voraciously on his hotly ejaculating cock, and she was filled with
ecstatic happiness by the knowledge that she was able, for the
first time, to really welcome her husband's life-giving offering.
Then she knew that Harvey, too, was cumming, and he was mewling
incoherently as he battered against her sorely-bruised buttocks.
Betty could feel the searing flood of his white, thick fluid as it
spurted into her forever stretched rectum, and then, she too, was
there.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhhh ... Cumming! Cumming! Cumming!" she chanted
insanely as her body was tossed and bounced about like a buoy at
sea by the united waves of her husband's and her lover's passion.
Incredible sensations enveloped her and she felt that her body
would never be the same again. Flood after flood of almost
unbearable pleasure coursed through her, leaving every nerve
ending tingling and unbelievably alive. Her head was gently
spinning, and she felt that at any moment she might drift off into
a soothing limbo of eternal ecstasy. More hot rivers of sensation
washed over her, but she barely felt them as she drifted off into
a semi-daze of satiation and security, sandwiched reassuringly
between the satisfied bodies of her husband and her lover.
* * * *
Doug was absolutely contented. Around him, Harvey and Betty
were resting lightly, and somehow it all seemed natural that all
five of them should be naked and together in the bedroom. As far
as Doug was concerned, everything was fine. Betty was proving to
be the wife he'd always dreamed she'd be. Of course, he'd been
surprised, to say the least, when Harvey had joined in their
lovemaking by taking Betty in the ass, but he didn't really mind.
Now that things were right between himself and Betty, he didn't
really care what happened.
"Doug, darling?"
It was Betty, and she was moving closer to him. There was a
look of pure love in her eyes and it thrilled Doug to see her
looking at him like that.
"Happy, baby?" he whispered.
"Yes ... but ..."
"But what, honey?" he questioned solicitously. He hoped that
nothing was worrying her; he didn't want this moment to be
spoiled. But she seemed almost hesitant about confiding in him.
"I'd ... I'd like to ... to suck you cock!" she said at last.
"What?" Doug gasped, unable to believe his ears.
"I'd like to suck and kiss your penis," she said more
confidently. "I've wanted to for some time now. Wouldn't you
like me to kiss and lick it, like I did Harvey's?"
A recollection of how he'd seen her when he first came home
this afternoon flashed vividly into his brain and he saw again her
ripe, full lips ovalled lasciviously around the other man's thick,
blood-heavy shaft.
Yes, yes, he wanted her to suck his cock like she licked and
kissed Harvey's prick ... He never thought he'd hear those words
coming from her lips ... but today was a day of complete surprises
and it wasn't over yet.
Already her fingers were creeping downward and brushing
tantalizingly over the semi-erect expanse of his already stirring
penis. A dart of excitement shot through him at her enticing
touch, as she stroked and caressed the inert organ into growing
hardness.
"Oh God, Betty, your hand feels fabulous on my cock!" he
gasped, as he lay back on the floor and stretched out luxuriously.
Her deft fondling made the passion blood surge through the
awakening shaft and he could feel it rising up from the nest of
tangled pubic curls at the base.
Betty stared in lewd fascination at the inflating rod and
continued to stroke and manipulate it with ever increasing
confidence. She enjoyed seeing it grow to new life under her
touch and wondered at the surge of desire springing through.
Then, holding it firmly by the stubby, thick base, she bent
down and flicked out with her tongue. She swiped the full length
of the upstanding pole with her pink, darting tongue, and was
rewarded with a convulsive shudder from Doug, who moaned in
abandoned ecstasy. She started to paint the palpitating prick
with her warm saliva, running her tongue from the very top of the
hard, burgeoning head right down to the root which was buried in
the forest of wiry curls. She dropped still lower and coated the
churning sac of his balls with her warm juices, and felt them
squirm and contract under her tantalizing touch. Then she
returned her attention once more to the rapidly expanding shaft.
She swirled her tongue around and around the pulsating cock,
feeling the blood flowing throbbingly through the veins.
Cleverly, she flicked at the sensitive part just under the rubbery
head and trailed down the webbed underside, making Doug gasp and
moan with mounting pleasure.
Then with deliberate slowness, she enclosed the knobby head
between her full, strong lips, taking it completely into her mouth
and closing around it like a tight rubber band.
"Oh Christ, Betty, that's it ... that's it ..." Doug moaned,
his hands reaching up and pushing Betty's face further down on his
pounding prick. She began to take more and more of her husband's
fully erect cock in her mouth, sliding her lips down the throbbing
length, until the hard burgeoning head was touching at the back of
her throat against her larynx.
Then she began to suck and nibble on the imprisoned rod,
titillating it with her whirling tongue, stabbing it with her
sharp little teeth while all the time her other hand played
provocatively with the writhing sac of his scrotum. She began to
move her mouth up and down with increasing tempo, sucking and
slavering and licking with obvious hunger on the pounding male
hardness imbedded in her mouth.
Doug stared down at her with lust-dimmed eyes. The sight of
her, crouched on all fours up between his legs, added to his
pleasure. He watched in rapt fascination as her red, curve lips
ovalled greedily around the thick girth of his penis and he
wondered how she could take it in her mouth without choking.
Overpowering tremors of pleasure coursed through him and his hips
began a steady churning as he flexed his pistoning cock into her
voraciously sucking mouth.
Harvey watched in utter absorption as Betty sucked and licked
her husband's cock, and involuntarily drew nearer to get a better
view. Betty was proving to be more versatile than he had imagined
and he was beginning to feel sorry that she was reconciled with
her husband. It appeared to him that now that they had made up,
they would no longer look for outside distractions. Still,
everything had its good side, and in this case, it was obvious
that there was a rapport between himself and Selma, not to mention
between Selma and Jean!
Still, he was sorry that Betty no longer found him the chief
attraction. She was a real fire-bomb, the kind he really liked,
and she was really chewing and sucking on that cock of her
husband's, just like she had on his a little while back. But
Harvey was also beginning to feel distinctly left out, and that
was a sensation that he definitely didn't relish. But he was not
to be put off and carefully edged closer to Mrs. Fletcher's
enticingly dangling buttocks.
Betty, engrossed in her task, got a start when she felt hands
once more running like a little insects over the satiny mounds of
her buttocks. She knew that it was Harvey, accustomed as she was
to his strong, firm grasp, and wished silently that he'd go away.
But her wish was not to be granted and again she felt the
insistent probing of his insatiable penis as it nudged at the
tender flesh of her still tingling vagina. She couldn't suppress
a moan, which muffled around her husband's thrusting cock as
Harvey began to guide his lust-swollen cock-head into the moistly
receptive orifice of her pussy. And, in a moment, he had inserted
it into the velvety opening, his hands holding her firmly in
place.
"Aaaaaahhhhh ... oooohhhhhh ..." she sighed around her
husband's hardened shaft of excited flesh. Unconsciously, she
thrust back with her buttocks and encouraged Harvey's questing
penis to enter her hungrily welcoming belly. He responded
eagerly, plowing into her soft, yielding depths with a single,
strong stroke.
"... uuuummmmpppphhhh ..." she breathed as he hit bottom, the
hard rubbery head touching enticingly against the sensitive tip of
her cervix.
Without hesitation, Harvey began a slow, rhythmic sawing in
and out and Betty found that she was sucking on her husband's
hotly palpitating cock in time to Harvey's fucking behind. Betty
wondered what Doug was thinking, knowing that Harvey was
penetrating her from behind while she was sucking his cock, but
she was sure he didn't mind. Anyway, he was in a world of his
own, his breathing coming in ragged pants, his whole body
tremoring with spasms of convulsive pleasure.
Betty's own body was alive with spine-tingling sensations,
and she thrust her quivering ass backwards to welcome Harvey's
powerful instrokes. Her breasts were trembling, the nipples hard
and erect, and as if aware of her desire, Harvey suddenly brought
his hands forward and began to caress and knead the voluptuous
flesh, making her mewl with unrestrained pleasure. Her cheeks
were convoluted as she sucked desperately on her husband's
pulsating shaft, her lips slipping up and down the long, slippery
length. Her hand was squeezing convulsively on the churning
testicles cradled in her palm, and she could sense the tumultuous
seething taking place in their dark cavern.
Her eyes half-closed, she barely noticed that a shape was
moving towards Doug, and then, realization drawing, her eyes flew
open when she saw what was happening.
Jean was settling herself on her husband's face!
Carefully, she placed the pink, moist furrow of her pussy on
Doug's surprised mouth. For a moment, Betty could only stare in
surprise, and then she saw, to her amazement, that Doug was
flicking out with his tongue, darting it into the velvety softness
of the girl's vibrating cunt.
Eagerly, she clamped her thighs on either side of Doug's
perspiring face and rimmed his nose and mouth with her flowering
vagina. A look of unadulterated pleasure flushed her features and
she began to moan and gasp as Doug started to lick and suck at her
trembling pussy.
Betty continued to suck her husband's granite-hard penis. It
felt like a separate living entity in her mouth, breathtakingly
alive and tingling with innumerable sensations. Harvey was
panting behind her as he rammed his long, lunging cock into her
helplessly aroused pussy, and Betty realized that she was in the
middle of an incredible daisy-chain of sucking and fucking. She
was sucking her husband's cock while Harvey fucked into her from
behind, and at the same time, Doug was licking and slavering at
Jean's openly proffered pussy. The thought of how they all must
appear, strung out across the floor, four naked bodies moaning and
quivering with rapidly rising passion, formed a lewd pornographic
picture in Betty's mind and gave her an illicit quiver of
pleasure. At one time, she would have thought it was disgusting,
immoral, wrong. But now, she didn't care about any of that. They
were all enjoying it--that was the main thing.
But there was more to follow. Betty stared, with
disbelieving eyes, as Selma, feeling undoubtedly left out, settled
herself in front of Jean, and positioning herself with lewdly
splayed thighs, afforded the dark-haired girl access to the
moistly pulsating cleft of her vagina. Betty just couldn't
believe it as she watched Jean's tongue snake out and swipe the
blonde's quivering pussy with rapidly increasing sweeps. Selma
was obviously tremendously excited already and Betty thought she
could see the hardened knob of Selma's clitoris peeping out
through the curling tendrils of golden pussy hair.
Now Betty realized she was involved in a quintet of
lascivious passion and every pore and nerve in her body was aflame
with added pleasure. The obscene chain stretched right across the
floor and the room resounded wit moans and wet sluicing sounds of
oral lovemaking. Every tongue seemed to dip and dart in precision
unison with the tempo set by Harvey's still plunging cock and the
shivers of passion reverberated all the way from Harvey to Selma.
The level of the sensual tension was rising rapidly and Betty knew
that it couldn't last.
It was Harvey who broke it.
With a deep, incoherent moan, he made one last dynamic drive
into Betty, and then he was there! Almost immediately, Betty felt
the onrush of his seething white fluid as it flowed into her
lust-ridden pussy in a foaming cascade, and she knew that she was
near to climaxing herself. But Doug was there first. His prick
seemed to dive almost uncontrollably to her feverishly working
mouth and she felt the welcoming flood of his hot, raining sperm
in her mouth. It seemed to fill her to overflowing, but she
managed to drink every drop, savoring it completely, thankful for
the wonderful opportunity of tasting her husband's sperm. Then
she realized, from the violent shaking of her husband's body that
Selma and Jean were cumming, too. They were all reaching an
orgasm together!
And after that, everything went blank. She remembered
feeling the first spasms of excruciating pleasure, recalled the
convulsive shudders that shook her frame, but it seemed to all
overpower her to the extent that her head began to spin round and
round and she finally sank into a satiated, blissful oblivion.
Chapter 9
It was well after midnight when Harvey, Selma and Jean
finally left. The rest of the evening had passed in a blur, as
far as Betty was concerned. Her semiconscious state after the
quintet had all climaxed together didn't last long, and she found
herself being roped in to try all kinds of new positions and ways.
After a while, it all lost its savor, to her way of thinking, and
she got the impression that Doug felt the same way.
At about midnight, she had made her way to the kitchen, and
assisted by Jean, made some coffee and sandwiches. It was at this
period that she got an opportunity of telling Doug everything.
She told him all about the modeling jobs, and how she had met
Harvey in the first place. Now that she had unburdened herself,
she felt much better. Of course, it helped that Doug was so
understanding. It gave her a secret feeling of pleasure to
realize that Doug had actually broken off with Selma and had
intended making up with her. So, looking back on it all, she was
glad that things had worked out they way they did. Because if she
hadn't got involved with Harvey, it was doubtful that things would
have gone smoothly with her and Doug. But now there was no
question of any problems of that sort.
Harvey seemed very attracted to Selma and it seemed a mutual
one. Betty had even overhear him telling her about a modeling job
he might have for her. Selma's eyes had lit up at the prospects,
and Betty got the feeling that when she and Doug faded out of the
picture, they wouldn't be missed too much, at least by Harvey and
Selma. She probably would miss Jean, but knew that she wouldn't
go on seeing her. Jean, too, was taken with Selma, so everything
had a way of fitting together.
Doug and Betty both were relieved when they finally left.
They were beginning to think they'd never be alone together again.
Harvey, Jean and Selma all seemed to be insatiable and never tired
of new variations. Betty knew, that come the morning, the crowded
events of this day would come back into her brain with perfect
clarity, if she wanted to remember them. But she was doubtful
that she did. But one thing she was grateful for, and that was
that she had convinced herself that group sex wasn't for her. It
definitely palled on her, and she was secretly relieved to hear
that Doug felt the same way.
Gratefully, they headed for their bedroom as soon as their
guests had gone and thankfully shut the door behind them.
"Well, what a day," Doug said, shaking his head. "I hope we
don't have another like it!"
"I'm sure we won't ... as long as you don't take on a new
mistress!" Betty said mischievously.
"And the same goes for you," Doug laughed, gathering her in
his arms. "From now on, I want a stay-at-home wife!"
"You mean, that I'm not to work anymore?" she said in mock
alarm. Actually, she was relieved to be giving up modeling. It
was fun and exciting, but very hard work, and she found that most
of her earnings went on clothes, make-up and hairpieces. Not to
mention cabs!
"That's just what I mean. From now on, the only modeling
you're to do is for me!"
"All right, you're the boss!" Betty laughed happily,
surrendering herself completely to her husband.
The End
--
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |
| Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/><http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>