("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
                     `6_ 6  )   `-.  (     ).`-.__.`)
                     (_Y_.)'  ._   )  `._ `. ``-..-'
                    _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
                   ((('   (((-(((''  ((((
                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
		_________________________________________
		                WARNING!
		This text file contains sexually explicit
		material. If you do not wish to read this
		type of literature, or you are under age,
		PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
		_________________________________________




			Scroll down to view text


















--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

The Reluctant Couple
By Grant Roberts (1999)

***

A sexually frigid wife becomes a whore to her desires 
over time. (M+/F, wife-slut, husband-cheat)

***

CHAPTER 1
---------

Standing at the kitchen sink in the small duplex she 
shared with her husband, Roger, Diane Slater stared 
gloomily out through the window at the cold, rolling 
fog which had come in over San Francisco's Richmond 
District from the ocean. Damn, but she hated the fog! 
It made everything so dark and cheerless, so lonely.

She finished washing the last of the breakfast dishes 
and put them in the rack to drip dry. Then she emptied 
the dishpan and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. In the 
living room, she fluffed the couch cushions and 
straightened the magazines on the coffee table and 
emptied the ashtrays -- every day, prosaic chores, 
fraught with dullness.

She wished it were tomorrow, Saturday, and Roger were 
home. At least they could get out then, go for a ride 
down the coast to Monterey or across the Golden Gate 
Bridge into Marin County, anywhere just so long as they 
got out of The City for a few hours. But it wasn't 
Saturday, and Roger wasn't home. Roger was making neat 
columns of figures in his ledger books, or whatever it 
was Chief Accountants at Waller, Waller, Crist, and 
Maxwell did during, working hours.

Diane sat down in the big overstuffed armchair. It was 
cold in the front room, and she had gotten a small 
chill. Well, it was always cold in there. She'd asked 
Mr. Comstock, the landlord, to have the wall furnace 
checked for malfunction, and he had said he would see 
to it; but that had been two weeks ago, and no one had 
come around yet.

I don't know why we can't afford a better place than 
this, she thought. Roger makes good money, almost a 
thousand dollars a month, and we live like we're in the 
throes of poverty. Well, I'm tired of it. We've been 
married for two years now, and we have almost eleven 
thousand dollars saved. That ought to be enough for 
that split-level in San Bruno that Roger is always 
talking about buying, shouldn't it? At least for the 
down payment, and for new furniture and appliances and 
things like that?

But every time she broached the subject to him, he put 
her off. "We still don't have enough money saved," he 
told her. "I don't want to owe anybody anything when we 
make the move, Diane. I want to be free and clear and 
independent; I want to own everything outright. That's 
real security."

Well, that was fine. But wasn't she entitled to some 
security now? She didn't even have transportation -- 
Roger took their four-year old Plymouth to work every 
day -- and if she wanted to go downtown shopping she 
had to walk half a mile to a bus line and then transfer 
twice. What kind of life was that for a healthy young 
woman? All she had to do all day was sit in this duplex 
apartment and watch television or read, waiting for 
Roger to come home and offer her a few kind words and 
some companionship.

Diane stood up and went into the bedroom and began to 
make the large double bed. Was she being unfair? Was 
she being too demanding? No, she didn't think so. She 
only wanted what other young married couples had--while 
she was still young enough to fully enjoy them.

No, if anybody was too demanding it was Roger. 
Physically demanding. She shuddered involuntarily as 
she tucked the bottom section of the sheet under the 
mattress. It seemed to her sometimes that that was the 
only reason Roger married her in the first place: for 
her body. All he ever thought about was sex. He wanted 
to make love almost every night, and then in all kinds 
of perverted positions and ways. He had even tried to 
make her kiss him... there, on that monstrous penis of 
his.

Diane shuddered again. The thought of Roger's huge, 
purplish, rock-hard member, tearing into her 
defenseless vagina, made her tremble with fright. He 
was like an animal at times, saying lewd things to her 
in bed, saying foul words that rang like the bell of 
doom in her ears and brought tears to her eyes. Didn't 
he know how to be gentle, to be patient? She had been a 
virgin when she married him, he had known that better 
than anyone. 

She had told him about her strict religious upbringing, 
about how the word sex had never been mentioned in her 
household, told him frankly about that because she 
wanted to be a good, passionate wife to him. All she 
had asked was that he be patient with her, give her 
time to develop her sexual desires, to throw off the 
inhibitions her environment had subconsciously built 
within her. He had promised that he would.

And then he had all but raped her on their wedding 
night.

God, what a travesty that had been! She remembered it 
clearly, the shy way she had come to his arms in the 
little honeymoon cottage in Carmel, trembling with fear 
and--yes, with expectation, too -- only to be violated 
unmercifully by that gigantic monster between his legs.

She simply did not understand it. There had been 
nothing in Roger's manner when they were dating to 
indicate this was the way he was. Oh, she had been 
curious, of course, and had allowed minor petting -- 
allowed him to play with her breasts, and to kiss them 
once or twice. But he had always stopped when she asked 
him to. Even that one night on Lookout Drive in Marin 
County, where they had gone after dinner at Sabella's 
to look at the Bay three months before they were 
married.

Diane remembered that night vividly now, blushing a 
little at the recollection. She had drunk a little too 
much wine with the broiled lobster, and had fallen into 
a giggly, playful mood, almost a teasing mood. She 
hadn't meant to let things get as far as they had, and 
she was sorry afterward that it had happened. But it 
had happened.

They had parked in a small turnout, in a grove of 
eucalyptus trees. The view of the Bay, with its 
millions of tiny, winking lights had been breathtaking. 
And the mood had been full and golden in the starlit 
sky. She had moved close to Roger, nuzzling against 
him, and his arms had gone around her. He had kissed 
her then, lightly at first, then more ardently, his 
tongue flicking over her lips, and she had felt a 
stirring deep in her stomach, responding to his mouth, 
accepting his tongue deep inside her own.

Before she quite knew what was happening, his hands had 
been on her breasts, lightly, stroking gently, and a 
warm lethargy had taken hold of her. His touch was so 
good on her body! She had kissed him more passionately, 
and when his hands strayed down inside the low-cut 
front of her summer dress, she had made no immediate 
move to stop him. It was only when fingers deftly slid 
the dress straps from her shoulders and pulled the 
front down to expose the creamy white globes of her 
full, darkly pink-nippled breasts that she had felt the 
first tinges of panic.

She had tried to pull away. "No, n-no, Roger, we 
mustn't! We... can't go any... further!" she had said, 
breathlessly. But his head had dipped down and his lips 
had closed around one of the rigid pink nipples, 
sucking it gently, rolling his tongue along it. She had 
felt blind, wild passion surge through her at the 
contact of his mouth, and in those few seconds her 
resistance had melted. He sensed this, and his hands 
had begun to stroke her soft, vibrant legs, moving 
higher, sliding the short skirt of the dress up on the 
smooth white flesh of her thighs. His fingers had 
traversed the down-soft surface of her inner thighs 
until they almost touched the moistening mound of her 
pantie's crotch band, his mouth moving urgently on her 
breast now.

"No, no, no!" she had moaned, but it was an ineffectual 
cry and the sensations which coursed through her were 
new, and strange and wonderful. Her brain had been 
reeling, torn between the sensuous manipulations of 
Roger's mouth and hands--and the inbred concept of 
sexual contact before marriage as a cardinal sin. She 
wanted to be free of his warm, wet lips, his moving 
hands, and yet she didn't. 

A battle raged in her mind as Roger's hands raised the 
dress even higher, bunching it about her waist, and his 
hands had taunted her smooth, flat stomach. Suddenly, 
his fingers were inside the elastic waist band of her 
panties, touching the soft pubic mound within, moving 
down to touch the slightly quivering passage of her 
naked vagina. The touches of his fingers there sent 
rippling waves of ardor boiling and flooding into her 
brain, numbing it, and she gave herself up momentarily 
to the new sensations in her loins as he gently parted 
the soft virginal pubic hair and slowly insinuated a 
finger into her tender, sensitive cunt, so wet from the 
passion fluid seeping from its trembling walls, 
expanding the small membranous opening which denoted 
her virginity. 

Then he had found the tiny, oscillating bud of her 
clitoris and begun to stroke it lightly with the tip of 
his finger, causing her to cry up into his mouth with 
sheer delight. It was so good, so good, and at that 
moment she didn't care if it was wrong, it felt so 
wonderful.

But then she had heard the whisper of his zipper, and 
her eyes had flown open and the spell was broken. She 
looked down in sudden, consuming terror to see the 
huge, blue-veined length of his erect cock held lewdly 
in his free hand. She watched in fascinated horror as 
it seemed to jerk spasmodically, and a thin oozing 
liquid seeped from the tiny glans opening.

"Baby... baby, I... need you, I want you, Oh Jesus 
Diane, I want you so goddamned much," Roger had moaned, 
and with his other hand he had begun to pull her 
panties down.

She had begun to struggle then. "No, Roger, stop, 
stop!" she had screamed. She strove with all her 
efforts against him, trying to free herself from his 
grasp, but he was too strong for her. He had forced her 
down on her back on the seat, and she had felt that 
warm sticky head of his cock against her thigh, felt it 
trembling there as he tried to work its impossible 
length upward to her pure, defenseless vaginal opening. 

She squeezed her legs tightly together, still 
struggling, still fighting, and then Roger had cried 
out, "Oh Christ, oh son of a bitch, I'm going to cum, 
I'm going to cum!" His member seemed to jerk out of 
control against her leg, and then Diane felt a great 
warm floodtide of hot liquid flow along her thighs, 
inundate her fleecy golden pubic hair, drench the soft, 
still quivering folds of her cunt. It was as if she 
were being drowned in a never-ending torrent of sticky 
sperm as he moaned and writhed convulsively above her.

Afterward, they had sat in shameful silence in the car, 
and Diane had cried uncontrollably. He had tried to 
comfort her, to tell her he was sorry, but she had 
refused to allow him to touch her. She had felt soiled 
and dirty and humiliated. But later, when she had 
calmed down enough to look at things rationally, she 
had realized Roger was contrite, and as miserable as 
she. He begged her to forgive him, and told her that he 
wouldn't touch her again until they were man and wife. 
And she had forgiven him, because it was partially her 
fault. She accepted that partial blame, and told him 
so, and confessed that she had allowed things to get 
well out of hand.

There had been no more episodes after that. Not until 
their wedding night, when he had never given her the 
opportunity to allow her sexual excitement to build 
normally and had attacked like some demented, mindless 
beast...

Diane felt her stomach churning as she recalled the 
Lookout Drive occurrence, and her wedding night. The 
chill seemed to be stronger now, and she shivered more 
violently. A good, hot bath, that was what she needed. 
To soak away the chill--and some of the memories with 
it.

She finished making the bed and went into the bathroom. 
She put the stopper in the tub and ran water into it, 
testing the temperature as she twirled the two chrome 
handles. When it was just as she liked it, hot but not 
too hot, she undressed quickly, folding her plaid skirt 
and frilly white blouse and her under things in a neat 
pile on top of the clothes hamper. As she waited for 
the tub to fill completely, she looked at herself 
critically in the full-length mirror attached to the 
back of the bathroom door.

She was a small woman, barely three inches over five 
feet, but her body was beautifully and symmetrically 
proportioned. Her blonde hair hung long and when she 
let it fall down across her shoulder it covered 
partially her full, round breasts. She did that now, 
and thought: I look very sensual that way, almost 
brazen. She swept the hair back again, studying the 
creamy white skin of her breasts, with their marbled 
and blue-veined translucence, the dark areolas making 
large, perfect accents for her small, now-rigid 
nipples. She raised her arms over her head, stretching 
her tits taut, looking like a classic nude sculpture in 
pose.

She stood that way for a long moment, letting her eyes 
move down across the flat surface of her stomach, past 
the tiny puckered outline of her navel. The triangle of 
her womanness was silky and golden, very fine, 
highlighting the pink fullness of her vaginal lips. She 
could see the tip of her clitoris peeking out from the 
soft puffy slit in an almost childish shyness there.

She pirouetted lightly, examining the dimpled roundness 
of her satiny buttocks, the rippling muscles in the 
backs of her slim, tapered thighs. The veins in the 
soft hollows in back of her knees were prominent, 
tantalizingly so, and her calves and ankles were 
shapely.

I have a good body, she thought. I really do. But it 
hasn't brought me any physical happiness in two full 
years of marriage. I can understand, certainly, why 
Roger becomes so aroused at the sight of me nude. That 
much I can understand, and it pleases me; my ego is as 
strong as any other woman's, and it's so nice to know 
that I have an attractive body. But what I can't 
understand is why Roger treats me the way he does. I 
always thought men respected beauty of form, protected 
it -- not flailed it as if it were something terribly 
ugly, to be sneered at and scorned and treated with 
contempt.

Diane became aware of a wafting cloud of steam and 
realized that the tub was filled almost to the brim. 
She turned off the faucets and tested the water with 
her hand. A little hot, but that was fine; she was so 
cold. She stepped into the tub, felt the heat of the 
water envelop her as she slowly sank down, banishing 
the cold, filling her with a relaxed, almost contented 
feeling as she lay back with her head touching the rear 
lip of the porcelain.

She lay there for almost ten minutes, relaxing, 
blanking her mind to all but the lethargic warmth of 
the water. And then the sounds began to filter through 
the thin walls of the duplex.

Diane stiffened in the tub, even though the words were 
at first indistinguishable. Damn that Judy Carneal! she 
thought. She's entertaining some man again in the 
middle of the day. Why, she's nothing better than a... 
a whore, the way she carries on! Men always in her 
place, always different men, coming at all hours of the 
day and night. Not that it's any of my business what 
she does, but these walls are so paper thin that you 
can hear practically everything that's being said and 
that's going on over there.

A man's voice said suddenly, distinctly, "Come on, 
baby, let's do it right here."

"Ahh, Harry, not in the bathroom," Judy Carneal's voice 
answered clearly. "We'll go in the bedroom, honey."

"No, right here. I've always wanted to have my cock 
sucked in the john."

"Well, all right."

"That's it, baby. Take off that housecoat so I can see 
those big tits of yours while you suck me."

"How's this, Harry?"

"Beautiful, baby, just beautiful. Damn, but you got a 
fine set on you. Come over here so I can feel your 
cunt... Good, good. How do you like that, baby?"

"Mmmmmm!" And then, "Take your cock out, Harry. Let me 
see that big monster of yours."

"Okay, there it is."

"Oh, Harry, it's so hard! It's like a chunk of granite, 
Harry! God, what a beautiful cock!"

Diane lay rigid in the warm bath water, listening, 
holding her breath. Dear God! she thought. They... they 
were disgusting! They were sick, disgusting 
degenerates! He... he wants Judy to... to kiss his... 
penis and she's going to do it! She's going to take his 
big ugly throbbing penis, like Roger's, between her 
full red lips and... and...

"That's it, baby," the man's voice groaned. "Stroke it 
a little, that's it, run your fingernails along my 
balls... easy, damn you, easy..."

"There, honey. How does that feel?"

"Oh, Christ, get down on your knees, will you? Start 
sucking it, you bitch, start sucking it!"

I can't listen to any more of this! Diane's mind 
screamed. I've got to get out of here! It's sick... 
lewd... disgusting... But she only lay motionless in 
the warm water, holding her breath, feeling a strange 
series of involuntary sensations churning deep in the 
pit of her own stomach as she listened to the salacious 
conversation filtering through the thin wall separating 
the two duplex bathrooms.

"There... ahhhhh... oh, that's nice, Judy baby, the 
inside of your mouth is like warm butter! Oh Jesus, 
that's... ahhhhh!... that's real nice, baby!"

"Ummmmmmmmmmm!"

"You know how to... ahhhhh... suck it, oh Jesus you 
really know how to suck cock, baby! You love cock in 
your mouth, don't you... don't you... oooohhhhh, 
agggghhhh, ummmmmm!"

Stop it, stop it, stop it! Diane screamed silently. But 
she looked down at her breasts and saw that the nipples 
were turgid now, jutting up from the gently bobbing 
globes of her breasts like mountain peaks on some 
lonely Pacific island. A tender aching had begun 
between her legs, in spite of the revulsion she felt at 
the words she was hearing. She moved her hand from the 
side of the tub and touched her breasts, touching one 
of the nipples, and then pulled her hand back quickly. 
The contact of her own fingers had intensified the 
aching in her cunt. Dear God, what was happening to 
her? Had... had she become sexually aroused listening 
to that filth next door? No, no... but it was true. Her 
entire being quivered beneath the tepid bath water.

"Oh Christ, Judy, Judy, suck it... suck it!" the man 
groaned through the wall. "Yes, that's it that's... 
it... milk it dry, you hot little bitch... suck me 
dry... ohhhhhhh!"

The inside of Diane's mouth was dry, and she ran her 
pink tongue over her lips several times, trying to 
dispel the arid, cottony taste. She found herself 
trying to picture in her mind the position Judy Carneal 
and the man, Harry, were in. He was sitting on the 
toilet seat... yes, that was it, sitting on the toilet 
seat with his legs spread wide and Judy was kneeling 
between them, her long auburn hair fanning out over his 
belly and abdomen, taking his blood-swollen shaft into 
her mouth and suckling it, up and down, up and down, up 
and down...

A wave of shame caused her to flush a violent crimson. 
She was no better than they were! Thinking lewd, filthy 
thoughts, working herself up into an impossible froth. 
Suddenly, she wished Roger were home. She was aroused, 
all right, there was no purpose in deluding herself 
that she wasn't. For the first time in two years, she 
was sexually ready; if Roger were only here she would 
gladly accept his huge penis now, she needed release, 
needed it desperately...

"That's it, that's IT! Tickle my balls, baby... tickle 
them... holy Christ, I'm almost there... suck it 
harder, Judy... harder... HARDER! Aagghh!"

Diane lifted her hand from the edge of the tub again 
and began to massage her right breast, slowly, 
rhythmically. God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! her mind 
almost screamed. But I don't care, I can't stand it! 
Her mind had blotted out all the evils she had been led 
to believe came from masturbation. There was only her 
urgency now, her need for release from the intense 
arousal of her body by the lustful activities beyond 
the paper thin bathroom wall.

She continued to massage her breast, avoiding the 
nipple at first, cupping the creamy naked globe in her 
long slim fingers, kneading the translucent flesh, 
causing whirlpools of passion to seethe within her. 
Then she touched the nipple with her thumb, felt it 
diamond hard. She rolled the ball of her thumb back and 
forth across the erect bud, intensifying further the 
rising crescendo of sexual frenzy.

Diane arched her back, raising her hips off the tub 
bottom, lifting her stomach and the dripping, hair-
covered mound of her loins out of the water. She braced 
her body by pressing the soles of her feet to the 
porcelain, and then lifted her left leg out of the 
water, hooking it over the side of the tub, opening 
wide the soft, fluted edges of her cunt. Still she 
massaged her now wildly trembling breast, teasing the 
nipple, pinching it between thumb and forefinger until 
it throbbed like a thing alive.

From next door, Harry screamed, "I'm... going to cum, 
baby! Suck it, bitch, suck it suck it suck it... 
aaaaggghhhh, I'm cumming, I'M CUMMING!"

Diane could stand it no more. Her other hand dipped 
down between her widespread thighs. It was wet with 
something else besides the water, with the secretion of 
her passion. She gentled her finger into the moist 
flesh, and the feeling generated by her own fingers was 
so very, very good. She manipulated the soft hair lined 
inner lips until she could feel them swelling with the 
rush of blood, and her clitoris was rigid and tingling. 

Her index finger came in contact with the trembling 
bud, and she began to gasp with total abandoned delight 
as she felt release imminent. Her hips thrashed the 
bath water and her hand squeezed her breast, released 
it, squeezed it harder. Faster, faster, faster her 
finger rubbed across the sensitive clit, blanking her 
mind of all thoughts, all sanity; nothing existed for 
her in that moment except the delirious coming of her 
impending climax...

And then she was there!

She was cumming like a wild woman!

Her hips flailed frantically at the water, beat it to a 
froth, as wave after wave after maddening wave of 
intense, bursting release seized her. Pinwheels of 
light, in kaleidoscopic colors, appeared in back of her 
eyes and she cried out, once, in pleasure so acute it 
was like pure pain. As her orgasm began to ebb, her 
buttocks sank back to the porcelain bottom of the tub 
and her hand stilled but did not leave her cunt. She 
lay there, not moving, her eyes squeezed tightly shut 
and her chest rising and falling spasmodically.

From next door: "Jesus, Judy, there's nobody who sucks 
cock like you do. Nobody a-tall! You got every last 
goddamned drop in my nuts down that throat of yours!"

"I'm glad you liked it, Harry honey. Now how about 
doing the same for me? My pussy's on fire!"

"All right. And after that, I'm gonna throw a fuck into 
you like you never had before. And that's a promise."

"What are we waiting for?"

There was the sound of a door being opened, and then 
closed, and then there was only silence. Diane lay 
there, listening disappointedly to that silence, and 
sanity returned to her satiated brain.

With it came abject mortification.

She was sick with the knowledge of what she had just 
done, of the act of carnal self-abuse that she had 
performed on herself. What was the matter with her? Was 
she so starved for love that she had to resort to 
masturbation for satisfaction? Was this what Roger's 
animalistic love-making had driven her to? Would she 
repeat time and again these self-manipulations in order 
to achieve emotional release?

The questions churned and twisted in Diane's mind. She 
felt sick to her stomach, and... impure, as if her body 
were harboring thousands of tiny, invisible, creeping 
things. Abruptly, she stood up in the tub and switched 
on the shower, letting the needle spray grow as hot as 
she could stand it and then lathering herself from head 
to toe with scented feminine soap.

At the end of ten minutes, she began to feel a little 
better. She stepped out of the shower, refusing to 
allow her mind now to dwell on what had happened only 
minutes earlier. She toweled herself dry briskly, not 
even looking at her glowing pink-red body in the full-
length mirror. She dressed hurriedly, and went out to 
the kitchen.

This day was wrong, all wrong. Last night, she had told 
Roger that she would have something special for him 
when he came home from work this evening, but hadn't 
told him what. It would be a surprise. What she had 
been planning was a very fancy shrimp Creole for his 
supper, his favorite dish, with a bottle of good 
Chablis she had bought from savings out of her grocery 
money, and candlelight, and soft music; it had been her 
idea to get him in a gentle, tender, loving mood, so 
that later on, when they went to bed, Roger would come 
to her as a husband and a lover -- not as a brute. But 
then the loneliness of the morning had taken hold of 
her, and the old bitterness at his treatment of her 
over the past two years, and now the... the scene in 
the bath tub... Well, it was all spoiled now. She 
didn't even want to think about sex or love, much less 
about making the complicated shrimp dish from her 
grandmother's recipe.

Still, she had to have something with which to occupy 
her time for the rest of the day, until Roger came 
home. It was barely noon now, and the prospect of 
simply sitting in front of the TV screen for the 
remainder of the afternoon had no appeal at all for 
her. Too, there was the fact that she had already 
bought all of the preparations for the Creole--fresh, 
deveined shrimp and green peppers and garlic and 
paprika and stewed tomatoes...

Well, she might as well make it now. But there would be 
none of the Chablis with it, and no candlelight or soft 
music. It would just be a dinner, like all other 
dinners. That was all.

Diane opened the refrigerator, took out the shrimp, and 
set intensely to work on the side-board.


CHAPTER 2
---------

Roger Slater was adding a long and intricate column of 
figures when Marcus Cord knocked on the edge of his 
office door. Roger looked up from the IBM calculator 
and smiled. "Come in, Marc."

Cord entered. He was dressed in the latest semi-mod 
fashion, not in the conservative grey or black three-
button business suit which Roger wore. Cord had on a 
double-breasted pin-stripe jacket over checkered, 
slightly bell-bottomed pants, a rich blue shirt with a 
bright, wide-patterned tie, and Roger knew without 
looking that the shoes would be an off-color with wide 
buckles. Cord's hair, was a premature salt-and-pepper, 
which he wore long with thick, bushy side-burns. The 
total effect was impressive, rather than ostentatious 
or absurd. If he, Roger, ever tried to wear such 
clothes, he would have looked absolutely ridiculous and 
would probably have been fired as well.

Cord grinned and said, "Am I interrupting?"

"No. I'm just finishing the Apperson account for 
Pierson to see. What's on your mind?"

"Some of us are stopping off for a drink tonight, and I 
thought you might like to join us."

"Great. Count me in." Well, why the hell not? Roger 
thought bitterly. What's there to go home to, anyway? 
Just a cold, frigid wife, that's all. Well, maybe after 
I've had a couple of drinks, Diane will begin to look 
interesting again. Although I doubt it. He said, 
"Where?"

"There's that new place around the corner. You know, 
the one that looks like an English pub. I understand it 
has atmosphere, drinks are reasonable. Pig and Whistle, 
I think is the name."

Roger nodded. "I may be a little late, but I'll come 
by."

Cord slapped his hand against the door. "Fine." He 
turned and walked away, swaggering a little as he 
always did.

Instead of returning to the Apperson account, Roger 
stared at the computer in front of him and thought 
about Marcus Cord. The man was easy to envy, for he had 
the handsome attributes of wavy brown hair, blue eyes, 
and a dimpled smile which made women take a second 
look. He had been a football player in college, which 
hadn't been so many years ago to have lost Cord his 
muscular and well-developed physique; and combined with 
a charming and sophisticated manner, which was not 
affected but extremely natural, Cord made the women 
take that third and fourth look as well. He exuded sex 
like an aura around him, and damnit, he knew it.

Roger remembered when Diane had first seen him after 
shopping one night a couple of months ago, when she had 
met him for a ride home. By chance, Cord had been 
standing outside the office building with him at the 
moment Diane walked up, and when she laid eyes on the 
man, Roger knew she was violently attracted to him. 
Physically, lustfully, hungrily; not with love or 
tenderness which had characterized her desire for 
Roger. Animal instincts--pure bitch heat, and he had 
felt the rise of jealousy spread through him. He had 
been rather nasty to her that night, and they had ended 
the evening in a bitter fight. He had thrown the way 
she had acted toward Cord at her then, with all the 
acid of a man scorned. She in turn had denied 
everything, swearing it was only Roger she wanted, and 
that he was fabricating and fantasizing the whole 
thing. The problem had been that she really hadn't done 
anything. There was nothing Roger could point to except 
the explosive air which had been generated. He knew and 
she knew and Cord knew; but that didn't win the 
argument for him.

Still Marcus Cord was higher up in the corporation than 
Roger. He was in another section, a vice president in 
charge of customer service, which meant that his power 
over Roger was only indirect--but not worth crossing. 
Roger knew that if he alienated Cord, his chances of a 
good long term career at Waller, Waller, Crist, and 
Maxwell would be ended.

Besides, Roger had no reason to feel that Cord was a 
threat to his marriage, or that Diane, as indifferent 
as she was in bed, would ever consummate her desire if 
offered the chance. Cord had enough women to satisfy 
the most accomplished satyr. Although married to a 
beautiful woman from all that Roger had heard, he was 
nonetheless the office cocksman. 

He was smart enough not to fool around where he worked, 
or at least if he had, there had been no talk of it. 
God knew he could have had any of the nubile, mini-
skirted girls in the typing pool, and they wouldn't 
have kept their mouths shut for a second. Yet when Cord 
was some other place--a bar, a restaurant, anywhere 
where there was a female around--he was definitely on 
the prowl. Roger had heard from another of the staff 
that Cord had once picked up and later bedded an 
airline stewardess on the forty minute run between Los 
Angeles and San Francisco--an almost impossible feat.

Roger shook his head. Why the hell couldn't he be that 
way? He was so God-awful inhibited, not at all like 
Cord. Why was he so damned straight and staid? He 
slammed his fist against the desk top. Well, if Diane 
kept up the way she was going, he would damn well stop 
being so stuffy and start being more of a swinger!

Roger stayed late at the office, even though he didn't 
feel like it. The Apperson account went slowly after he 
got back to thinking about it, instead of his wife and 
himself and Marcus Cord. He had to get it done; he had 
promised it to his boss, Ernst Pierson by the next 
morning. It was the hour here and the hour there of 
overtime which made the company begin to take notice of 
him, of that he was sure. Take notice they had: Two 
fifty dollar raises in six months, and promises of 
promotions and other benefits. 

The firm was shorthanded, too, which made his position 
even more valuable, and Roger willed himself to put in 
the overtime and forget how tired he was. He wanted to 
get ahead and earn more money, and this was the way to 
do it. He had to be on his toes, though, and that took 
a lot out of him. He realized that some of the problems 
around his home were his, but that didn't excuse 
Diane's perpetual iciness and indifference to his 
needs.

Roger finished at a quarter to six, and put the account 
portfolio on Pierson's desk before leaving.

He doubted that Cord would still be at the Pig and 
Whistle, but he felt like he deserved a drink anyway. 
He walked around the corner and entered the little bar. 
It took him a moment to let his eyes accustom to the 
dimness, for the crowd of men and women and the miasma 
of smoke blanketed what little light filtered from the 
lamps and windows.

The Pig and Whistle was as Cord said it was: an 
American idea of what an English pub might look like. 
The walls and ceiling were in a pseudo-Tudor wood beam 
design, with the stucco painted white. There was a long 
oak bar, highly polished, manned by a large, English-
accented bartender who sported a handlebar moustache. 
There were long wood handles attached to the beer 
spigots, and Whitbread and Guinness Stout were 
advertised as being served.

There were groups of small, roughly hewn tables and 
matching chairs scattered haphazardly around the room. 
A pert waitress passed among the customers with a brass 
tray of beer glasses and other drinks. She was dressed 
in 18th Century fashion, except with an extremely short 
skirt, and she made sharp and slightly suggestive 
remarks to anybody who spoke to her. A couple of men 
were throwing darts at a circular cork board in one 
corner. Roger didn't recognize the shorter of the two, 
but the other man was definitely Cord.

Cord laughed as the other man stuck a dart in the wall 
next to the board, slapped the man on the back and 
turned. He saw Slater and raised a hand in greeting. 
"Roger! Over here, man!"

Roger made his way through the packed mass and reached 
Cord.

"Sorry I'm late. Where is everybody?"

"They've all gone. It's just us two." Cord turned back 
to the man he had been playing with and said, "My 
friend is here. Thanks for the game."

"I owe you for two, I think," the stranger said good 
naturedly. "For someone who never played darts, you 
caught on pretty fast."

Cord laughed and together, he and Roger crossed to an 
empty table, leaving the other man standing alone. He 
took the chair next to the wall and gestured for the 
waitress. "That man over there owes me two beers," he 
told her when she arrived. "Serve one to me and one to 
him," he added, pointing to Roger. "And make it quick."

"I'll make it in my own sweet time," the girl snapped. 
She swung the tray around and walked off, her rear end 
twitching provocatively.

Cord laughed and then grinned at Roger. "She looks 
tempting. Right, Rog?"

Roger smiled back awkwardly. This was the first time he 
had been with Cord alone on a social occasion. He felt 
uncomfortable, over his head in new and strange waters. 
Cord was an over-powering force, he suddenly realized, 
somebody he would be entirely unable to cope with.

The beer appeared quickly and again the girl swished 
her skirt and jiggled the globoid cheeks of her ass at 
Cord. This time Cord leaned over and patted her thighs 
lightly. She turned and in mock anger told him to stop 
with the familiarity. He only patted her again. The 
scent of sex was heavy in the air. Cord merely had to 
say when and she'd ask him where, Roger thought to 
himself. He gripped the thick stein handle and drank 
deeply of the golden brew. It washed down his throat 
and he quaffed again. The waitress left, winking at 
them.

Cord lit a cigarette and sipped the beer and looked 
very earnestly at Roger. "I'll be honest with you," he 
said. "Actually, there was nobody else here. I only 
wanted you to come."

"But why--?"

"Why tell you that a group of us were meeting here? 
Simple.

In case I was overheard by those pack of ears in the 
office. I didn't want them to know about it."

Roger's head buzzed. A warning bell rang in the back of 
his mind, but he couldn't figure why, any more than he 
could figure why Cord had gone to all this trouble. "I 
don't understand," he replied, frowning slightly.

"You know, Roger, that you've been noticed."

"Noticed?"

"In the office. You've shown ambition and a knowledge 
of the business, and you're young. You should go far 
with us."

Roger couldn't help but feel pleased. Cord only paused 
in his praise to order another round, and as Roger 
finished one beer the other appeared in its place.

"Our business, though," Cord continued, "has a great 
deal of politics." He took a final puff on his 
cigarette and put it out in the pewter ash tray. "In 
fact, those politics are often cruel and unjust, and to 
the unwary can be deadly."

"I've never tried to do anything to buy my job, Marc, 
if that's what you're driving at."

"No, no, I realize that," Cord replied. "You've been 
conscientious, and you've tried to be fair with 
everybody. Believe me, that's a refreshing change from 
the usual." He waved to the waitress that he wanted 
another round, and then refused to take the money Roger 
offered. "This is going on my expense account, Rog. I 
can afford it better than you. Just drink and listen to 
me." He paused again. "The office has been talking 
about Drake retiring soon, haven't they?"

Roger nodded. "I think Jim's due to leave next month, 
isn't he?"

"He is, and that means I'll be looking for a new 
general manager for my section. Now we both know that 
Willard Lewis wants that position, and that he's in 
line to get it."

"I thought that was pretty well settled. I mean, by the 
way Willard has been talking, I assumed..."

"Right," Cord said, breaking in. "He has an excellent 
record and has been with the company for a good many 
years. By all the written rules of good company policy, 
Roger, he deserves the job." Cord pursed his lips 
thoughtfully and then took a drink of beer. "Weigh his 
qualifications against anybody else's, and he's the 
man."

Roger's thoughts raced at what he imagined might be 
said next. Did this meeting represent... was Cord 
trying to offer him... damn it, was this all a lead-up 
to his appointment to the managerial position? His hand 
trembled as he drank, and the thrill of such an 
unlikely possibility coursed through him. God! He dare 
not dream of such an advancement!

"But this is where the politics I mentioned comes in," 
Cord said, interrupting Roger's reverie. "Business 
isn't always done by the rules, written or unwritten, 
and quite often it's a matter of manipulations."

"I'm afraid you've lost me."

Cord chuckled. "All right, Rog, I'll lay it on the 
line. In plain language, the promotion belongs to 
Lewis, but my intentions are to give it to you. Am I 
clear now?"

"I'm... overwhelmed, Marc! I truly am." Roger paused. 
His brain was spinning excitedly. "But you said 
politics. That's still a little..." He searched for the 
right word. "Unclear."

"Perfectly obvious to me. Lewis is old fashioned. He's 
too goddamned set in his ways, and as I move up in the 
firm, he could be more of a liability than an asset. 
I'd hazard to say that he could even become a danger to 
me."

"And I wouldn't be, is that it?"

"I can trust a man who'll stay by me and guard my 
backside.

You can be that man, Rog, if you want to be. You're 
interested in getting ahead, and you're young enough to 
see how sticking by me can help you. Let me break the 
ground, and you'll ride to the top with me, that I 
promise."

Roger was stunned. He quickly took another large 
swallow of beer. "That sounds fine with me, Marc. I'll 
work for you in every way I can. You can count on me."

Cord offered his hand and Roger shook it, sealing the 
bargain. "I'm sure I can count on you, Rog," Cord said 
warmly. "I pride myself on analyzing character, and 
you're not the kind to think up clever schemes or 
angles, and stab me in the back."

For some reason Roger felt a pang of self-revulsion. 
"You're right, Marc. I don't have the guts for 
politics."

"I didn't say that, Roger."

"No, but it's true. I'm colorless, too staid and too 
quiet. I tend to climb into a safe little hole so that 
I won't see what's really going on in the world." Roger 
wondered why he was talking like this, especially to 
Cord. But then, hadn't his prospective new boss been 
candid with him, taking a chance by confiding in him? 
Embarrassed, Roger laughed self consciously and raised 
the beer glass. "Here's a toast, Marc," he said. "To 
the perfect combination of the swinger and the prude."

Cork clinked glasses, smiling broadly. "Here's to us, 
all right. But don't belittle yourself, Rog. I'm too 
flamboyant, and I think we can help each other. We're a 
good complement."

Feeling better from Cord's remarks, Roger threw his 
head back and drained his beer. Cord motioned for the 
waitress again and ordered another round. She left and 
Cord said to Roger, "After this drink, let's go some 
place else. You know, find some action, have a little 
fun maybe."

Roger was tempted. He was more tempted than ever before 
in his married life. The idea of a hot, unknown pussy 
crawling and heaving around his pistoning cock made his 
head swim with desire, and he felt his prick engorge 
and stiffen in his pants. He needed a good fuck 
tonight, and Diane was definitely not that. Then he 
remembered he had promised her he would be home early 
this evening, for some special reason she had refused 
to elaborate upon. In spite of his sexual hunger, he 
had to admit that he still loved her, and that he was a 
man who kept his promises. He wanted to pound the table 
in frustration.

"Damnit, Marc, I can't tonight. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'll tell you what, Rog. Why don't you and 
your wife come over to dinner tomorrow night? I want 
you to meet Cindy, my wife. I think you'll like her." 
He winked at Roger, then turned to the waitress. She 
was back with the beers. He beckoned her to lean over 
so that he could whisper something to her. Roger 
overheard Cord ask the girl what time she got off work. 
She told him nine, and Cord said that he would be at 
this table, and if she would care for dinner.

The waitress smiled provocatively, nodded agreement and 
moved away. Roger almost groaned involuntarily at the 
image of what was certainly to follow the dinner. A 
fine dessert, all right.

"I've got to hand it to you, Marc," he said then, with 
genuine admiration. "You really have a way with the 
women."

Cord gave him a superior grin. "Nothing to it, Rog. 
Just takes practice. Hell, you can have it, too. Just 
lose some of your Victorian prudery and play the modern 
role."

"Security," Roger said. "That's my trouble. I want 
security. I come from an average middle class home, 
Marc. My dad was a stock broker, and you know how 
conservative they are. We were close, and I guess I 
picked up his attitudes toward solidarity." Roger rose 
from the chair realizing for the first time that he was 
somewhat drunk.

"Don't let it worry you, Rog," Cord said. "Maybe you 
can loosen up a bit as we work together."

Roger steadied himself with a hand on the edge of the 
table. "I hope so." He paused, then said, "Thank you, 
Marc, thank you very much for this position. You... 
won't regret it."

"I'm sure I won't. Now get home, Rog. I wouldn't want 
to go anywhere else if I had a hot little piece like 
yours waiting either. See you tomorrow night."

Roger smiled weakly, said good night, and staggered 
toward the exit. Cord's last words burned in his mind. 
Hot piece. If Marc only knew what kind of an icy bitch 
she really was. Even out of bed, she demanded all the 
little things involved in story book romance, with her 
teasing, suggestive remarks and her come-on looks, 
parading around in provocative clothes. But it was all 
a sham. Get down to basics, and she might as well have 
been encased in a block of glacier ice for all the good 
it did him. His balls and penis throbbed and ached for 
the loving touch of a woman, and all he had to look 
forward to was cold rejection.

Roger walked to the parking lot, the cool night air 
ineffectual on the rising cloud of inebriation, and 
picked up his car. The beer surged through his system, 
and made his thoughts hazy and his emotions fortified. 
Goddamn it, he was going to show her! He was going to 
fuck the shit out of her tonight whether she liked it 
or not, by God!

Roger drove more recklessly than was his usual wont 
from the combination of beer and passion. The alcohol 
had completely flooded his mind, and with careless 
abandon he speeded through the downtown traffic to 
Geary Boulevard, unmindful of possible violations. 
Christ, I'm drunker than I thought! he told himself. He 
never could hold his liquor very well, and more than 
two of anything, even glasses of wine or beer, affected 
him badly.

The heat of rising desire flamed his already lewdly-
burning thoughts. Goddamn Cord and his wanton ways! 
That waitress' smirking countenance again appeared in 
his mind's eye. Her thinly disguised hunger for Cord's 
handsome body, and no doubt huge cock, flashed before 
him like a red flag in front of a maddened bull. Like 
the bull, Roger more and more angry, until he almost 
screamed with rage and frustration.

Goddamn his wife! His Diane, his one and only -- Shit! 
God, he'd be deliriously happy if only she was a woman, 
a red-blooded female who wanted him! But he was denied 
his rights, his end of the marriage bargain. He 
pictured the ideal situation with Diane, with her 
mewling and moaning with pleasure as he took her a 
hundred different ways, and she in turn writhing and 
sucking and kissing him with unquenchable lust. He 
could almost feel the creamy secretions of her cunt as 
she whispered his name, and he groaned, knowing full 
well that her pussy was as dry and arid as a withered 
old crone's.

His long, hardened prick was bent mercilessly in his 
pants, and he could tell that he was oozing secretions 
into the cotton of his underwear. Never had he been so 
hot, so intensely aroused, not since the night on 
Lookout Drive when Diane had first shown what kind of 
lover she was to be. The pain of his doubled cock was 
excruciating, and with the desperation of a tortured 
man he reached down with his left hand and fumbled for 
the fly of his suit trousers. The zipper protested, for 
the sitting position made for awkward maneuverability; 
but slowly he was able to lower it until his white 
underpants bulged through the narrow opening, and the 
heavy sack of cloth stretched his trousers to their 
limit.

Roger looked down at the protuberance. The agony of 
what he was doing almost outweighed the relief he felt. 
My God, he thought with horror, here I am, driving 
along with my pants undone! I can't believe it! What 
the hell is happening to me? Has my sense of decency 
become warped?

Then he remembered Cord's words: "Just lose some of 
your Victorian prudery and play the modern role." 
Modern role: the permissive man in a wide-open society, 
where sex was the game -- for its own sake and nothing 
more. As if in agreement, his swollen member throbbed 
against its restraining hold, and it seemed to jerk 
restlessly, as if seeking escape.

Trembling with the pent-up fury of his overwrought 
emotions, Roger touched the swelling and felt a tremor 
race through his groin and buttocks. What am I doing? I 
haven't done this since I was a teenager! The narrow 
band of material which opened along the front of his 
shorts seemed to widen as his cock bloated the front of 
his pants. As if of their own volition, his fingers ran 
along the band, the sensations they caused his prick 
almost overwhelming. For God's sake, stop this! What 
would happen if you were seen like this, manipulating 
yourself like an adolescent!

But his fingers continued to caress the stiffened cock, 
its outline hard against the shorts, and then he pulled 
the material aside and like a steel spring, his prick 
shot free. Oh Christ... no! No!

Roger tried to keep his eyes glued to the windshield, 
off his erect penis, but with almost animalistic 
fascination he dipped his vision, seeing the blood-
filled knob's towering size. He had never been bigger! 
His fingers caressed the mighty shaft, and the cool air 
made it tingle maddeningly.

The foreskin folded back as his hand stroked the 
burning flesh, and the head winked with its unseeing 
eye through the steering wheel at him. Sperm churned in 
the boiling cauldrons of his balls, and he could feel 
the rising of his cum in the base of his cock. He took 
one last look at the action of his manipulations, the 
full fist of his hand wrapped around the pole of his 
penis, the furious pumping of his wrist and arm almost 
forcing him to stop the car...

Thirty-fourth Avenue was just ahead, and his duplex 
within sight. Thankfully, he took his left hand away 
from his screaming, pleading cock and turned the wheel 
to bring the Plymouth onto his street and then into the 
duplex's driveway. He stopped the car in the protecting 
shadows of the garage. He sat there for a long minute, 
staring down at his still rock-hard prick, his breath 
ragged and hoarse. He realized he was too far beyond 
recovery to fight the primeval urges his body thrust 
upon him, and his mind began to form weird erotic 
scenes of the lewd positions he was going to force his 
wife into. He opened the door, and started his desire-
wracked body toward the kitchen entrance, his hand once 
more enclosed over the turgid shaft.

***

Diane straightened up the kitchen for perhaps the 
dozenth time, waiting impatiently for Roger to come 
home. She looked over at the table, set but incomplete 
without the candles and wine she had originally planned 
to have. Feelings of remorse and guilt swept through 
her. When she was upset like this she had to keep her 
hands busy, and she occupied herself by washing a 
couple of kitchen shelves unnecessarily. 

As the hours ticked by, the morning's horrible 
experience began to return to her mind in spite of 
herself. She blushed guiltily at the thoughts, shutting 
her eyes tightly in a vain effort to reject the 
smoldering picture of her fingers contacting the soft, 
wet slit of her vagina and throbbing mounds of her 
breasts, and she drew in her breath sharply to hold 
back a groan of humiliation. She found herself once 
again reliving the maddening onanistic caresses, and 
her hips churned in unintentional rhythm to the teasing 
recollections of unwanted fulfillment.

The sound of Roger's car stopping in the garage brought 
Diane back to reality, shattering the horrid, vile 
dream in her mind. She whimpered as tears of abasement 
cascaded down her cheeks. Oh God! she cried to herself. 
Only yesterday I had convinced myself I would give my 
body to Roger tonight, and really find myself sexually. 
Well, she had found a certain sexuality within her--but 
not with her husband. The mental preparations had been 
for naught, had actually turned her colder than ever. 
He must never know. Roger must never know...

Suddenly the door burst open and Roger stormed into the 
kitchen. His eyes blazed with the uncontrolled lust 
which burned through his loins. His immense, ruby-
tipped penis leaped ahead of him as he moved 
deliberately across the room toward his wife, and he 
held it pointing at her with his hand still beating the 
hardened flesh.

Diane shuddered, her breath frozen in her throat, and 
she could only stand immobile where she was. What...? 
What was this... this sick thing she was witnessing? 
Roger, her Roger, standing there with his huge penis in 
his hand. Her mind balked, and then she was overcome 
with dreadful apprehension.

"I've got to have you, you bitch!" Roger blurted. 
"Right now, right here, and goddamn it, you'd better be 
good for a change!"

Diane cowered back into a corner, whimpering with 
fright. He stepped closer, then grabbed her savagely 
with his free hand. He swept her to him, and her 
attempts to free herself from his grasp were futile. 
She was hauled ruthlessly against the rigidity of his 
lust-hardened cock. She felt his immense weapon through 
the thin material of her housedress, and she stared in 
abject horror into his contorted face. His eyes were 
more lust-possessed than she had ever seen them before, 
and his mouth was drawn back over his teeth in an 
almost vicious snarl.

Wild thought of wrenching herself free and running from 
him seized Diane, but her husband's strong arms pinned 
her to him and his hot, beer-smelling mouth crushed 
against hers, stifling the groans she emitted in a 
tight, grinding kiss. Oh no! Oh God no! she thought 
wildly. What hideously monstrous thing is happening to 
me? Am I to be raped by my own husband? Is this my 
punishment for... what I did this morning? Her eyes 
puddled with terrible anguish. God, I'm helpless; I 
can't move; I can't move!

Roger's hands explored her body, clutching and 
squeezing her soft, sensitive flesh, pulling harshly at 
her clothes. His swollen, rigid prick throbbed 
excitedly against her as he pinned her to him. Diane 
struggled feebly for one panicky moment, feeling his 
hand pressed against her tender breast and then she 
went limp, allowing the softness of her lips to meet 
Roger's own questing mouth. She couldn't fight him, he 
was too strong, but perhaps if she gave in a little it 
would help to return him to sanity. Desperately she 
thrust her tongue between Roger's lips and deep into 
his mouth, and he sucked it hungrily into the wetness 
of his cheeks. His kisses burned her like a firebrand.

Roger eased his head away then and hissed: "Take your 
clothes off!"

"Darling... please!" she tried to plead with him, but 
it fell on deaf and ignoring ears. "I... have your 
favorite dinner... all ready and waiting. Let's do... 
this later, if you want, but not... not this way!"

Roger snarled and threw her to the floor. "Not this 
way... not any goddamned way if you had your choice!" 
he spat thickly, his face contorted in a mask of rage 
and lust. He turned and swept his powerful arm across 
the table, sending glasses and silverware crashing 
cacophonously to the linoleum and then he wrenched the 
tablecloth off and wadded it and threw it against the 
stove. "The only dinner I want is a good fuck, you 
bitch! To hell with the food, understand?"

Diane knew that to plead anymore would be useless. She 
could only look up from her sprawling position on the 
linoleum and quiver helplessly from the evil which she 
knew was about to be perpetrated upon her defenseless 
body.

"You frigid, prick-teasing, sniveling, dried-up bitch! 
You were cut out to be an old maid, a virginal old 
maid. Why didn't you join a nunnery, for Christ's 
sake?"

Diane moaned and lowered her face to her hands as Roger 
loomed over her. His long, turgid shaft bobbed above 
her, and she closed her eyes. But then... it touched 
her cheek! Panicked, she suddenly squirmed and 
struggled with renewed strength, frenzied at the 
thought of his filthy, lust bloated penis so close to 
her. She raked her fingernails against his cock and 
shrieked, "Get away from me! Don't touch me, you... you 
animal!"

Roger lurched back beyond the reach of her claw-like 
nails. "Damn you! Goddamn you!" he shouted. "I'll teach 
you!" He reached out and grabbed her wrists and threw 
his body at her until his cock was jammed against her 
face again. "You want to do it the hard way, well then 
we'll do it the hard way!"

"No, no... please... I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Diane 
pleaded, the scalding tears streaming down her cheeks 
as he tore at her dress. Roughly he shredded the 
clothes from her, ripping and shredding the material as 
if it were tissue paper, until she was naked before him 
except for panties and bra. The dress lay like a lewd 
blanket around her.

"Shut up, you bitch!" he snarled.

"Roger, why... why are you acting like this?" she 
moaned, his foul language and affronts a searing pain 
within her. She saw him take another drunken look 
between her widespread legs and her fear-quivering 
breasts.

"I'll tell you what you're going to do. You're going to 
suck me," Roger sneered. "That's it. You're going to 
put my cock in your mouth and suck it. You'd hate that, 
wouldn't you?"

She nodded uncontrollably. The very idea of his male 
organ filling her mouth was abhorrent, and she 
involuntarily gagged.

Without warning, he thrust forward and down, and the 
mammoth, sex-crazed head of his blue-veined penis 
rubbed against her taut, lipstick lined lips. She tried 
to twist herself free, but he pressed on and the 
saltine, musky taste of his cock began to seep inside 
her mouth. She gritted her teeth and moaned: "No... 
no... please...," and as she did he rammed forward. His 
prick forced its way deep into the soft folds of her 
mouth, like some horrible snake crawling in its hole.

"Suck, baby, suck!" he groaned, moving his buttocks in 
the pagan ritual of copulation. He dragged her hair and 
held it in his steel grip and drew her head toward him 
in spite of her efforts to free herself; she felt his 
sliding shaft burrow halfway down her throat, then back 
out slightly, then forward again.

"Oh Christ, Diane!" Roger hissed, "Uhhhhhh... I love my 
cock in your mouth!"

His obscene words brought back the memory of the 
overheard bathroom scene of that morning, and for an 
instant Diane envisioned Judy Carneal lavishly suckling 
that man while he sat on the toilet. Her lips began to 
nibble slowly at her husband's thrusting instrument, 
and she coughed and sputtered. His balls bounced 
against her chin and there was the stale odor of sweat 
from his inner thighs, filling her nostrils with a 
constant reminder of the cruel, depraved attack she was 
being subject to.

"Jesus, Jesus!" he spluttered, "Oh my Christ!"

Roger worked demon-like, thrusting his hips, his hands 
jerking her head rhythmically with his motion, and he 
writhed and strained as though in the last throes of 
death. He slipped her mouth up and down over the end of 
his cock as though it were a cunt in which he was 
venting the full wrath of his drunken, bestial lust.

Diane could feel his fleshy cock stretch and expand 
against her cheeks until it completely filled her 
mouth. She had never felt so dirty, so debauched in her 
life, and the one urgent thought which she tried to 
find solace in was that it would soon be over. She 
sucked and wriggled her lips wildly, hoping to make him 
cum quicker, please him as best she could and pray that 
would be all he wanted or would take. She worked in a 
daze at the command of his fingers, licking and sucking 
like a hungry child as he forced her to follow slave-
like his every thrust into the tender shelter of her 
mouth. Her ravishment continued, a ceaseless rape of 
her fear contorted face.

Then as suddenly as he had begun, Roger withdrew his 
cock. A small, sticky emission of lubricating fluid 
threaded between her lower lip and the head like a wet 
spider web. For a moment Diane hoped he might be 
finished with her, but then she saw that his eyes still 
burned with hateful lust, and her body trembled. She 
felt herself fall away and roll to one side, wretched, 
debased and lost, and the horrible image of how she 
must have looked with his cock buffeting her mouth made 
her ache with helplessness, made her want to vomit. She 
dimly felt Roger kneel beside her and crawl his hands 
over her thighs. She did not move, but closed her eyes 
and drifted into a semi-consciousness, past all caring.

Roger fumbled with her panties, his fingers sliding 
beneath the elastic leg band, hooking the wispy silk 
and then ripping away the garment with one vicious 
jerk. He traced the soft, hot flesh of her inner 
thighs, letting the air caress the widening legs, and 
momentarily his breath caught in his throat. He parted 
the inner lips of her cunt and gazed lewdly into the 
hot wetness which enshrined her clitoris. The full 
ripeness of her hips, the golden down of her pubic 
hair, the flatness of her white belly were all visible 
to him and his cock hardened still more at the thought 
of soon ravishing her helpless genitals.

Diane tossed her head wildly, with a shudder of horror 
as she felt his fingers probe the sensitive walls of 
her defenseless pussy. Involuntarily, the juices of her 
femininity began to flow as his pressure increased, 
although her mind was petrified with her utter 
subjugation. The erotic shock of his hand surged 
through her convulsively.

"OOhhhh!" she groaned as he leaned forward and touched 
his lips to the soft, fleece covered mound at the base 
of her belly. Her inner thighs spasmed and quivered 
beneath the thumbs Roger pressed against her hair-lined 
vaginal lips. Once again, he dipped and planted a wet 
kiss on her groin. He tantalized her with eel-like 
flickings of his tongue, moving downward until he 
spread the warm, vertical mouth of her pussy and licked 
the moist coral lusciousness which opened before him. 
Roger's fingers parted the damp satin-layered cunt, 
allowing his hungry, devouring mouth complete access to 
her secret being.

Diane's elbows pressed tightly to her sides and she 
lolled her head back and forth insanely as Roger's hot, 
searing tongue shot out, stabbing and encircling her 
quivering, erected clitoris. His lips sucked, drawing 
the warm folds deep into the cave of his gently biting 
mouth, while his tongue continued its maddening licking 
against the urgent pink flesh.

Dear God, help me, help me! Roger, Roger, has all 
reason left you? Why do you hate me? Why are you filled 
with contempt and loathing for me? Why am I no better 
than the lowest whore to you? Diane groaned huskily 
deep in her throat as her husband's probing lips licked 
their way up and down, up and down, the length of her 
narrow slit, starting at her lower belly and pressuring 
their way over the elastic rimmed opening of her 
clasping vagina, into the crevice of her round firm 
buttocks. 

There, they stopped momentarily to pay wet flicking 
homage to the tight pink anus which throbbed there. She 
couldn't believe it... but it was happening to her! 
Involuntarily, she ground her hips down against the 
hard, unyielding floor and heard herself emit strange 
animal like purrings from between her tightly clenched 
teeth.

Roger felt the tantalizing softness of his wife's pubic 
hair brush against his cheeks as he fed hungrily upon 
her pussy. He unbuckled his belt and opened his pants 
completely, then he slipped them down to his ankles. He 
kicked them off with his shoes. Slowly, he massaged his 
blood-heavy penis back and forth as he burrowed his 
face deep into Diane's cunt, his urge to conquer the 
woman beneath him boiling madly in his veins. 

For the first time since he had married Diane, he was 
truly enjoying her; the pleasure he felt almost 
overwhelmed him. He had not dared to think that such a 
coup was possible, but now, here she lay, completely at 
his mercy. It was far beyond his wildest dreams!

He could not help but gloat inwardly as he plunged his 
tongue into the small palpitating opening of her cuntal 
mouth and heard her cry aloud. The soft-rimmed flesh 
tantalized him and he covered the clasping, viscous 
opening fully with his lips to bring a low guttural 
groan and a spasmodic closing of her warm thighs around 
his head. 

He could feel her tight cuntal hole and squirming 
crotch and wet, lubricious flesh slip moistly around 
his long, extended tongue as the walls of her invaded 
vagina opened to his sucking motion, attempting to 
ingest his tongue deeper and deeper into it. His nose 
was mashed to her quivering clitoris, and he hungrily 
inhaled the pungent, perfumed aroma of her. The 
delicate piquancy incited his penis until he was afraid 
he was going to spill his seed that very second.

God! He had to fuck her or he would burst! His cock was 
throbbing wildly! With a cry building in his muscle 
strained throat, Roger grabbed Diane's legs behind the 
knees and climbed upward on her sweat-soaked body, 
thrusting her calves roughly up over his shoulders. He 
splayed his hands beside either of her arms and his 
palpitatingly huge cock slipped teasingly against her 
drenched, saliva-soaked pubic mound.

He gaped down between their bodies. Her upturned, ivory 
white buttocks completely enraptured him, and her 
narrow cunt lips throbbed and expanded beneath the 
stabbing probe of his concrete hard prick, their wet, 
pink furrows held apart by the pressure of his thighs. 
He worked his cock up and down between the ridges to 
part the soft blonde pubic hair and felt her spasm and 
shudder.

"I'm going to fuck you right now, bitch, just as if you 
wanted me to... even if it's the last time I ever fuck 
you!"

Diane shut her eyes against the strange, inhuman face 
which leered down at her, his words unintelligible in 
her ears. She could sense the fleshy hugeness of his 
prick lying in her open, quivering channel, jerking and 
insinuating itself in a rising and sawing motion. She 
felt its smooth, rubbery head convulse against her 
soft, sensitive slit until it was adjusted between the 
lips of her vaginal opening.

"Oh God Roger... oh why, oh why are you doing... this 
to me?" she moaned out helplessly in her agony.

Roger could not control the sadistic desire to torment 
his wife even further. Even though he had all he could 
do to keep from instantaneously impaling her soft young 
pussy upon his aching cock, he could not deny this 
intention. Shortly he would empty the madly churning 
seed of his balls into her cunt, but for the moment she 
was going to have to suffer further, to be forced to 
realize just how frustrated and rejected he had been 
for these past two years. She was going to be paid back 
in full, so help him God!

At long last, Diane felt him force open her vagina with 
his penis, and winced tearfully at the sudden pain. His 
weight crushed against her brassiere-encased breasts as 
he thrust his hips forward, and the elastic snugness of 
her opening resisted only for a moment from the 
onslaught of his rape. Then she gave way beneath his 
harsh, brutal pressure. She emitted a throaty wail.

"Oh Roger... please... no, no... not so hard!" she 
begged further.

Roger was elated by her painful cry. He thrust again, 
listening intently for her deeper whines, wanting 
suddenly to hear her scream for mercy. He rammed 
forward brutally, felt his balls slap resoundingly down 
against her twitching upturned buttocks. She ground her 
hips against the floor in a useless attempt to escape, 
and her legs jerked wide out on either side of the 
table, kicking vainly at the air. She screamed!

"Roger! ROGER! Oh God, it hurts! AAAAAghhhhh!" she 
yelled as though her body had been impaled upon some 
barbaric implement of torture.

His penis tore into her and scraped against the tight, 
still-unready walls of her vagina. She contracted and 
squeezed desperately in an attempt to force the alien 
invader out of her body, and she heard Roger gasp from 
the sudden clamping of her passage. But still he pushed 
deeper and deeper into her, forcing the warm, moist 
cavern of her pussy to yield open to his thundering rod 
of hardened flesh.

Lying helpless beneath him, tears of pain and 
humiliation tortured Diane. She felt torn asunder by 
the physical force of his entry, and the mental 
brutality of his unnecessarily cruel attack. Worse, she 
was unable to comprehend whatever inconceivable logic 
lay behind his actions. But Roger was drunk and in no 
mood for explanations. He pounded his cock deep up 
inside her to its hilt until she was sure he was going 
to pulverize her very inner vitals. It was as if a 
white hot ram of fire was filling every pore of her 
stomach, and there wasn't one tiny ridge or crevice 
which was inviolate from his chunky weapon.

Then his hands went around and began to knead and cup 
the resilient flesh of her softly mounded ass, and she 
could feel her skin begin to bruise beneath his rough 
touch. Roger lay unmoving, his face directly above hers 
as he caressed her buttocks. She too remained 
motionless, afraid of the agony it would cause her if 
she moved with that huge weapon inside her. Silence, 
save for Roger's ragged breathing, hung between them. 
Suddenly, then, she felt a throb as his cock jerked 
upwards in another half-inch of virility.

"Uuuuuhhhh!" she grunted, her face twisted with pain.

"That's right, bitch!" Roger taunted. "Scream for it!" 
He flexed again.

"AAAAgggggg!" she gurgled, the cords of her body 
muscles straining. "Oh God, have mercy! Please... I 
can't take it!"

"You'll take it, all right!" came the hissed answer. 
"You'll take all I can give and like it! Hear me?"

She didn't answer, only rolled her head helplessly to 
one side.

"I asked you a question!" Roger snarled, thrusting 
savagely into her.

"OOooohhhh, yes, yes!" she cried, afraid now of 
offending him lest he be crueler and more brutal than 
he was now. "I'll like it!... I will... I will!" she 
choked, tears welling in her closed eyes as she spat 
out the lie. Her husband's obscene, lewd actions had 
forced her to the depths of degradation, and she 
doubted if she would ever be able to look at herself 
again with any measure of pride. 

He had stripped her of her self-respect on this night, 
and there was nothing left except his gargantuan cock 
buried deep, deep inside her. She knew that he had 
sensed her loss of the last remaining ounce of 
resistance, and clamping his beer-smelling mouth over 
hers again, he began to rock sideways with a sawing 
motion of his thighs. The agony within Diane increased, 
and it was as though her insides were being shredded 
into a thousand miniscule pieces. She groaned in 
hopeless defeat beneath him.

Roger thrust in and out with ever-increasing strokes, 
ignoring her tears and cries of anguish. He seemed to 
grow bigger and bigger, battering her cervix 
unmercifully. She was sore and raw and mentally 
scarred, and Roger felt a frenzied glory as she 
defensively undulated from his skewering actions. He 
rampaged against her buttocks, burying his cock again 
and again inside her decimated vagina. She was his, 
completely his, a slave in total submission to his 
every whim. He could do with her what he willed...

"My God! My God! You're... killing me! Oooohhhh!"

Roger laughed harshly, and as if in answer, stroked 
more rapidly, hard and fast, battering her quivering, 
wet pussy. He moved his hands to grasp her smooth, 
sweat-slick ass-cheeks and pull them closer to his 
thighs, trying to blend them with his own, his vicious 
thrusts filling the kitchen with lewd, resounding 
smacking noises. His breathing came in short, gasping 
puffs, and his body dripped steaming sweat. He felt a 
complete loss of all control...

"I'm going to cum!" he shouted wildly. "My God, I'm 
going to cuuuuummmm!" He groaned as he thrust his 
cock's full expansion deep inside her wide-stretched 
vagina, his mouth dropping open and his clutching 
fingers commencing to jerk spasmodically in an attempt 
to open her for even one more fraction of an inch of 
his cock.

"Fuck back! Fuck back! Fuck back!" he blurted. But then 
the first stream of hot, white sperm began to gush up 
the tunnel of his cock and surge into the well of her 
vagina. It burst with the force of a tidal wave, 
burning into Diane's belly like liquid fire. She could 
feel the filling, drowning sensation as his flow 
continued to pulse maddeningly and his cum leaked down 
the crevice of her buttocks and pooled whitely on her 
uselessly torn clothing...

And then he collapsed, his demon cock deflating with 
sudden and complete satiation. Roger fell exhausted 
across Diane, one arm splayed wide. She stared at his 
spent body covering her, wondering in utter disbelief 
how this man, her husband, could have exercised such 
sick, perversions upon her. Now, in the wake of his 
played-out passions, shame and revulsion inundated her, 
and she let tears openly fall from her glazed eyes.

"Why?" she moaned inaudibly. "Why... why did you do 
this, Roger? Oh, God, why?"

"You'd never understand," he breathed huskily against 
her bosom. "What did you ever know about... a man's 
feelings? You're the one who forced me to this. And do 
you know why? Because I'm sick of pleading and coddling 
you to get what I'm entitled to... a plain, cooperative 
piece of ass! I married a statue, not a woman!"

"Don't talk to me like that, you... you filthy beast!"

"Filthy beast, am I!" He raised up beside her, his face 
contorted with rage. Diane could see down between his 
legs and... his cock had jumped to life again! But that 
was impossible! How could he have an erection after... 
She stifled a cry as he pushed his again erect penis 
into her aching cunt once more. His hot, rejuvenated 
staff began to hammer her dry and throbbing passage. He 
made a mirthless, gasping chuckle which mingled with 
her sobs, and then lost itself in a continuous, inhuman 
grunting of renewed lust...


CHAPTER 3
---------

Roger awoke slowly Saturday morning, as if he were 
gaining awareness by degrees. His temples throbbed 
agonizingly, and there was a chalky, almost lacquered 
taste in his mouth. He groaned slightly, raising one 
hand to shield his tightly closed eyes against the 
bright, grayish light of dawn which burned against the 
lids. He rolled onto his side, facing away from the 
window, and his hand reached out instinctively to 
search for the warm, pliant body of his wife. It 
touched only cool, empty sheet.

His eyes fluttered open then, and a nauseous feeling 
centered in his stomach. Diane? he thought dimly. 
Diane, where?

Suddenly, last night came rushing back to him with 
crystal clarity. He groaned miserably, rolling onto his 
back again. The sheet slid away from his naked body to 
expose the satiated limpness of his cock. He lay there, 
reliving the scene with Marcus Cord in the Pig and 
Whistle, his subsequent beer-and-lust provoked handling 
of his genitals during the drive home, his insane 
bursting into the kitchen with his cock gripped in his 
hand, his wanton, perverse lust rape of his wife on the 
kitchen floor.

Oh Christ, I completely lost my head! he thought with 
personal loathing. I must have gone berserk to have... 
have done those things last night! I must be sick... 
Nobody acts that way, not even when he's denied the 
love and the gratification he has every right to expect 
in his marriage. He doesn't turn into a ravaging 
savage, a primitive Neanderthal. He doesn't force his 
wife to suck his cock in a pile of broken dishes and 
scattered silverware, and then go down on her like some 
demented beast, and then rape her body like a two bit 
whore...

Roger groaned again and sat up in bed. Fire raged in 
his temples, and caused red-tinged agony to explode in 
back of his eyes. How many times had he fucked her, 
lying there on the kitchen floor? How many times had he 
ripped into her sweat-slick body, flooding that soft, 
tight cunt of hers with a reservoir of hot, sticky cum? 
He couldn't remember, didn't want to remember.

But it was all there, vivid, in his mind. And there, 
too, was the recollection of the feeling of helpless 
guilt and shame which had finally engulfed him, and the 
whiningly soft apologies he had begun to whisper into 
her ears as he gently moved above her. Forgive me, 
darling, forgive me! he had cried to her, endeavoring 
to elicit the faintest response of absolution from her. 

But it had been useless; she had only lain unmoving 
beneath him, her eyes squeezed shut in horror and 
degradation, mewling with pain and fear until he had 
pulled out of her. And when he had lifted her tenderly 
in his arms and carried her into the bedroom and laid 
her on the bed, she had only remained as rigid as a 
block of beautifully crafted marble. Spent, still a 
little drunk, he had fallen asleep then with his arm 
protectively cast across her smooth, sperm-sticky 
stomach...

Roger swung his feet off the bed and crossed to the 
closet and put on his heavy terrycloth bathrobe. He 
wouldn't blame her if she left him now, if she divorced 
him, even if she brought criminal charges against him. 
He deserved it.

He went to the bedroom door and opened it. The 
apartment was silent. Had she already gone? Had she 
fled the house sometime during the night, gone home to 
her parents in Menlo-Atherton? Oh God, God!

He went along the hallway and pushed open the bathroom 
door. The nausea was strong in his stomach now, and not 
all of it was due to his hangover. He knew he was going 
to be sick. He leaned over the toilet, and his stomach 
convulsed; it all came boiling out of him in a rush, 
but when he was finished, and had rinsed out his mouth, 
he only felt worse than he had before.

He left the bathroom and opened the door to the 
kitchen. Diane was there. She sat at the table, staring 
blankly into a cup of coffee, her blonde hair tousled 
and her beautiful body encased in a thick chenille 
robe. She didn't look up as he entered. He stood just 
inside the door, his eyes moving in surprise over the 
kitchen expanse. It was spotless! She had cleaned up 
the broken dishes, the silverware, had waxed the 
linoleum until it shone brightly and there were no 
signs remaining of the carnal insanity of the previous 
night.

Roger's heart went out to her, sitting there so small, 
so fragile, so defenseless. "Diane--" he began, but her 
name stuck in his throat. He tried again. "Diane, 
darling."

She lifted her head to look at him then, and he felt a 
cold, viscid chill move along his spine and settle 
between his shoulder blades. Her eyes were filled with 
sheer and undiluted contempt, with utter revulsion. 
"Well," she said in a voice which fairly dripped acid, 
"Good morning, Roger. I trust you slept well after last 
night's marvelous evening. I know you had such a lovely 
time, such a heavenly experience."

"Oh, God, Diane," Roger moaned. "Please, darling, don't 
make it any worse than it is. You can't know how bad I 
feel..."

"How bad you feel?" Diane threw back her head and 
laughed without any trace of humor. "you? And what 
about me? How do you suppose I feel, Roger? How do you 
suppose any woman feels after being raped by her own 
husband, after being forced to perform foul, disgusting 
acts of perversion, after being a... a receptacle for 
pure loveless lust?"

"Diane, I-I don't know what to say except that I-
I'm..."

"Sorry? Well, that's just fine, isn't it? You're sorry, 
and that makes everything all right again. Last night 
just didn't happen..."

The pain in Roger's head was intense now. He felt anger 
replace some of the remorse and shame within him at her 
condescending tone. Who the goddamn hell did she think 
she was acting so righteous? It was her fault that the 
whole thing had happened, wasn't it? If she had been a 
wife, a lover, instead of a cold fish then there would 
have been no necessity for desperate methods. "Listen," 
he said in a controlled voice, "just what the hell?!"

The telephone rang.

Roger started convulsively at the sudden sound, his 
eyes turning toward the instrument on the wall near the 
drain-board. It rang again. Diane brought her gaze back 
to her coffee and sat motionless, staring into the 
flowered china cup once more, not caring whether or not 
the ringing phone was answered.

Roger moved finally, walking around the table to where 
the phone was situated and lifting the receiver from 
its hook. He said in a hoarse voice, "Hello?"

"Rog?" a deep, masculine voice asked. "This is Marc 
Cord."

"Oh, hi Marc."

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Well, I..." Roger began, and then said, "Just fine, 
Marc, just fine."

"Good, good." Cord's voice took on a conspiratorial 
quality.


"Me, too, if you know what I mean. You remember 
Millie?"

"Millie?"

"The waitress at the Pig and Whistle," Cord said. "Man 
oh man, is she something else! She gave me a head job 
with a vibrator under her chin."

Roger winced. He was unable to answer.

"Listen, the reason I called, why don't you and Diane 
come on over around noon instead of tonight? We'll make 
a day out of it. Cindy makes a hell of a rum cocktail."

Roger looked toward the still, rigid figure of his 
wife.

"Marc, I don't think..."

"Bring your swimming suits," Cord interrupted jovially. 
"It's going to be a hot day over here, and we'll just 
lie around the pool."

"Marc."

"See you around noon," Cord said, and rang off.

Roger stood there holding the dead phone. Damn Cord! He 
never gave you a chance to say anything, to agree or 
disagree. He just commanded, and you were supposed to 
jump... Well, what the hell? Roger thought suddenly. 
That was how the man had gotten where he was today, 
wasn't it? That was how he was able to score so easily 
and so proficiently with the women, wasn't it? 
Involuntarily, Roger found himself thinking about 
Cord's words concerning Millie, the Pig and Whistle 
waitress. He wondered what it would be like to have a 
woman's soft mouth engulfing his cock, while pressing 
an electric vibrating massager beneath her chin. 
Christ, that would be something, all right! He felt his 
prick leap with a renewed burst of desire beneath his 
robe.

No, no, he just couldn't think about sexual things this 
morning, not after what he had done, what he had 
become, last night! With a small cry, he whirled, 
putting such thoughts out of his mind. He looked at his 
wife, still sitting quietly and staring into her cup.

"Diane," he said, "Honey, we... we've been invited over 
to Marc Cord's for the day. He wants us there around 
noon."

Diane's head jerked up and she glared at him. "I don't 
care whose house we've been invited to!" she flared. 
"I'm not going anywhere with you today! I don't want to 
be seen with you!"

"Honey, please, you don't understand."

"I'm not going, Roger, and that's all there is to it!"

Roger felt a small tinge of panic. He had to keep that 
date with Cord today, there was no graceful way he 
could beg off. And he couldn't go alone. How would that 
look? No, Diane had to go with him. Cord was the type 
of man you had to stay on the right side of, the type 
of man you didn't want angry at you; he was ruthless, 
and he wouldn't hesitate to ruin somebody who 
displeased him, who didn't fit in with his plans for 
advancement.

This General Office Manager's position was what Roger 
had been hoping for, the big break, the major stepping 
stone toward full and complete monetary and business 
security. He couldn't afford to let his wife, or one 
crazy drunken night, destroy what he had worked and 
saved and planned so long to achieve.

He sat down at the table next to Diane. "Look, Diane," 
he said as calmly, as rationally, as he could--even 
though he was emotionally wrought up inside, "Please 
listen to me for a moment. Before I... came home last 
night, Marc Cord and I had a long talk. He offered me 
one of the top managerial positions in his section of 
the company. It's maybe double my present salary-- 
double! Do you realize what this means, honey? No more 
duplex living, no more scrimping and saving. We can buy 
that split-level down the peninsula we've always talked 
about, we can get you a new wardrobe, a car. We can 
live in solid comfort."

Diane said nothing, but she was looking at him now.

Roger took this as a positive sign. He went on quickly, 
"I've got the job, Diane, without reservations. But 
Marc is a funny sort, and if we don't show up at his 
place today he's liable to take it as a personal 
slight. That's the way he is. And he's just as liable 
to retract his offer, to give that position to someone 
else. Do you see now? We have to go. I-I regret what 
happened last night more than you can possibly believe, 
and I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to 
you. So please, honey, please don't let one terrible 
mistake spoil everything we've always wanted, 
everything we've built together. Don't let it spoil our 
marriage. Please, Diane."

There were tears forming in the corners of her eyes 
now, and he knew his pleading words had had a definite 
affect on her. She moistened her pale, unmade lips with 
the tip of her tongue. Then, almost spasmodically, she 
nodded.

Roger felt a certain elation. "You'll go?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered softly, averting her eyes again. 
"God knows why, but I'll go."

He stood and went to her and tentatively put his arm 
about her shoulders. She shrank away. "Don't touch me, 
Roger!" she said. "Please don't touch me! I'll go with 
you today, because you're my husband and because I'm 
not cruel enough to try to hurt you like you've hurt 
me, but don't expect me to be warm and responsive to 
you. Not now, not for a long time, maybe... maybe not 
ever again!"

She stood abruptly and pushed through the door, leaving 
Roger alone in the kitchen. He stood by the table, 
hearing her words in his brain. Don't expect me to be 
warm and responsive to you. Not now, not for a long 
time, maybe... maybe not ever again! He felt a 
resurgence of the anger he had known just before Cord's 
telephone call, and he clenched his fists tightly 
together.

When were you ever warm and responsive to me, you 
damned iceberg! he thought viciously. Again! That was 
the key words again! Christ, could she really believe 
she'd ever been a passionate, normal woman? Could she 
really put all of the blame for last night squarely on 
his shoulders?

He repressed the desire to rush in after her and put 
voice to these thoughts. There was the upcoming day 
with Marc and Cindy Cord to consider. In the interests 
of preserving as much harmony as possible, he had best 
leave well enough alone for now. It wouldn't do for 
Cord to sense any kind of rift between the two of them. 
Knowing that bastard, Roger thought, why, it wouldn't 
be surprising if... if he tried to move in on Diane!

That thought struck Roger as being rather funny, and he 
smiled. Wouldn't he be in for a surprise if he did? 
Wouldn't he, indeed? She'd slap him silly, that's what 
she'd do. Oh sure, there was that undeniable attraction 
she had exhibited for Cord's magnetic maleness on that 
single occasion of their meeting, but knowing Diane as 
he did, she would never allow--hell, would never even 
consider--any extramarital fun-and-games. Not with that 
ice-cold body and mind of hers.

Roger took four aspirin and an Alka-Seltzer for his 
hangover, and then went in to take a hot shower before 
dressing to leave for Marcus Cord's.


***

The Cord home was near the crest of a sloping, 
eucalyptus-bordered drive in Peacock Gap--one of Marin 
County's most affluent communities--just outside of San 
Rafael. It was constructed of heavy redwood, with a lot 
of glass and a field-stone facade; long and low and 
sprawling, it lay nestled back from the road some 
hundred yards, behind a tastefully landscaped yard that 
included bottlebrush and Joshua trees. The heady, 
redolent scent of the Burmese honeysuckle which grew 
abundantly over an arbored porch filled the warm, balmy 
afternoon air.

Diane sat with her body pressed tightly against the 
door on the passenger side of the Plymouth as Roger 
made the turn into the curving macadam drive. She 
hadn't spoken since they'd left San Francisco, had 
simply sat with her hands folded carefully in the lap 
of her flowery summer dress, staring out through the 
windshield and not looking at her husband at all. Her 
mind kept reverting back to the events of last night, 
to the unspeakable, cankerous indignities she had 
suffered at the hands of this man whom she had vowed to 
love and to honor and to cherish until death did them 
part. 

Why? she asked herself silently, for perhaps the 
thousandth time since it had happened. What had turned 
sweet, kind, gentle Roger Slater, the boy she had 
fallen in love with, into a savage creature of the 
primordial jungles? Was it, as he had screamed into her 
pain-deafened ears in that carnal kitchen, all her 
fault? No, no, how could he blame her? How could it be 
her fault? How could he expect her to throw off the 
shackles of her parentally instilled apprehensions at 
marital sex practically overnight? Learning to accept, 
to enjoy, to believe in, physical love took time; and 
it took patience, trust, love and gentle understanding. 
God knew, she wanted to be the kind of wife Roger 
expected her to be. She really did. At least she had 
until last night. 

Now... well, now she wasn't sure, she just wasn't sure. 
She didn't know what she wanted now at all. She was so 
confused, so mixed up, so hurt by his violent attack--
the final, most outrageous attack in a long series 
which traced back to her wedding night, and even beyond 
that to Lookout Drive--that she was still unable to 
project her thoughts toward any rational conclusion.

Roger brought the car to a stop behind Cord's dark 
green Jaguar XKE, which was parked before the open 
doors of a large, separated two-car garage. No sooner 
had he shut off the engine than Marcus Cord walked 
around the rear of the house on a crushed shell path. 
He wore a pair of tight yellow swimming trunks, and his 
bronzed, hard-muscled body glistened with a recent 
application of sun oil. His salt-and-pepper hair was 
damp from swimming, and he carried a tall frosted glass 
in one hand. Looking at him, Diane felt a small, 
reflexive shudder of fascination move briefly along her 
spine. 

Lord, but he was a handsome, appealing man! She had 
thought so when she'd first met him that night in front 
of Roger's office building. He had a certain... allure 
which captivated her, which made her somehow want to 
blush girlishly and avert her eyes. She watched him 
approach the car, moving easily, with almost feline 
fluidity, the strong muscles rippling along his thighs 
and chest, the hard, bas relief outline of his manhood 
straining at the thin material of his swim trunks.

Diane did avert her eyes then. Self-deprecatingly, she 
thought: Oh, God, how can I think about Marcus Cord 
that way, think about his maleness, his attractiveness? 
How after last night can I ever harbor any physical 
thoughts about any man?

Cord reached the car just as Roger stepped out. The two 
men shook hands, and Diane heard Cord say, "Good to see 
you, Rog boy. How was the traffic coming over?"

"Not bad," Roger answered.

"Hey," Cord said, looking in through the wind-shield at 
where Diane sat primly on the front seat, "You're not 
going to leave that beautiful wife of yours sitting in 
there all by her lonesome, are you?"

"Oh no, of course not." Roger came quickly around the 
car and opened the passenger door. He offered his hand. 
Diane had a fleeting urge to refuse the proffered 
assistance, but then she took it and allowed Roger to 
help her out of the car.

Standing on the macadam, she smoothed the thin cotton 
material of her dress along her waist and thighs and 
smiled politely at Cord. Roger said, "You remember my 
wife, don't you, Marc? Diane?"

"Indeed I do!" Cord was beaming, and Diane felt faintly 
uncomfortable under his steady, open scrutiny. "How are 
you, Diane?"

"Just fine, thank you."

"Good, good!" Cord enthused. "Come on around to the 
pool, kids. I want you to meet my better half." He 
winked. "Or so she says, anyway."

Diane walked beside Roger, following Cord along the 
crushed shell path and around to a large, redwood-
fenced patio. The path ended in a long, narrow grotto, 
floored with more of the crushed shells and fronting a 
green-tiled, L-shaped swimming pool with clear, still 
water. Three tall eucalyptus tree grew beyond it, just 
inside that section of fencing.

The grotto contained several brightly colored lounge 
chairs and chaise longues and two white-metal tables 
with barber-striped beach umbrellas shading them from 
center poles. At one of the tables sat a tall, willowy 
woman with short jet black hair, wearing a brilliant 
cobalt blue bandanna bikini. A frosted glass identical 
to Cord's was clasped in one slim hand. She was as 
bronzed as her husband, with a smooth taut stomach and 
fine high breasts barely concealed in the narrow strip 
of her suit top; no whiteness showed at all on the 
plentiful amount of bare bosom which was exposed. The 
bottom section outlined the tight, slightly protruding 
pubic mound, revealed her full rich thighs, and then 
tucked into the crevice between her globular buttocks, 
leaving the brown curve of her hips almost completely 
nude.

That's a rather scandalous outfit, Diane thought 
critically, a little prudishly. It was certainly much 
more daring than her own relatively skimpy two-piece 
paisley swimsuit, which was in the large straw handbag 
she carried. Why, it shows... well, almost everything 
she has; it doesn't leave much of anything to the 
imagination. Of course, this is her house and her pool 
and she can dress however she chooses--but it hardly 
seems the most conventional attire for receiving guests 
she's never previously met.

The woman stood as they approached, smiling in a bold, 
easy way. Cord went to her and put his arm about her 
waist, letting his fingers splay familiarly on the 
satiny surface of her almost naked hip. "Roger and 
Diane Slater," he said convivially, "This is my wife, 
Cindy. The wildest little woman north of the Golden 
Gate Bridge." He winked at her. "HELL, and south, east 
and west of it, too!"

Cindy moved her body closer to his approvingly, rubbing 
her bare flesh against him like a purring cat. Then she 
stepped forward and took Diane's hand, coolly, briefly. 
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Slater," she said in a throaty 
tenor.

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Cord."

Cindy pivoted her body to Roger and took his hand. 
"Well, well, so you're Roger Slater," she purred. 
"Marc's told me so much about you."

Roger grinned. "All of it good, I hope."

"Very good," Cindy said. Her cool gray eyes appraised 
him in an almost predatory way, and Diane saw that his 
eyes seemed to be caressing her jutting breasts. They 
were still touching hands. Roger finally released the 
clasp, but as if with a great reluctance.

"Well, Rog?" Cord asked. "Can I pick them, or can I 
pick them?"

"You can certainly pick them!" Roger agreed ardently.

Diane felt uncomfortable. What was the matter with 
Roger?

she thought. He was acting like a school boy, looking 
at Cindy's exposed bosom like that and holding onto her 
hand so long. Not that she was any better! "Marc's told 
me so much about you!" and standing there showing off 
her body like a common tramp.

She realized Marc Cord was speaking to her, and her 
eyes flicked up to meet his. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cord," she 
said. "What did you say?"

"Marc," he answered. "None of this 'Mr. Cord' stuff. 
Marc and Cindy, Roger and Diane. Okay?"

"Okay."

"What I asked was, did you kids bring your suits? It's 
a great day for swimming."

"And for drinking rum cocktails," Cindy added, still 
looking at Roger.

"Sure," Cord said. "And for drinking rum cocktails."

"Well, yes, yes, we did," Diane told him. "Bring our 
suits, I mean."

"Fine! I'll show you where to change. Cindy'll have a 
couple of tall ones made for you when you come back. 
Won't you, honey?"

"Certainly."

Cord, taking Cindy's hand, led Roger and Diane across 
the width of the patio to where a redwood door was set 
into a covered sun porch, flanked on both sides by 
long, bamboo-shaded windows. There was a compact bar at 
one end of the porch inside, and a large blue-and-gold 
tweed couch, and several comfortable-appearing chairs. 
Cindy went immediately to the bar and began to blend 
rum and Bacardi mix into a tall pitcher. Cord indicated 
an archway leading into the interior of the house 
proper, to where a closed door was situated. "Dressing 
room's in there, kids."

Roger nodded. "Thanks, Marc." And then to Diane, "Come 
on, honey."

She followed him into the dressing room. When he had 
shut the door, she took his swimsuit, rolled in a 
towel, from her purse and handed it to him. Then, she 
went primly into the partitioned cubicle at one end to 
change. She saw him scowl darkly as she did--he 
obviously didn't approve of her modesty--but she 
certainly wasn't about to strip naked in front of him 
after last night; especially not when he, too, would be 
nude. She simply couldn't bare to look at that 
impossibly huge member of his again, even in a state of 
flaccidity.

She undressed, folding her summer dress and underthings 
carefully, and slipped into the paisley two-piece. It 
fit her snugly, accentuating the firm, generous hills 
and valleys of her alabaster body. Looking down at her 
planed stomach and her tapering thighs and calves, she 
felt a painful vulnerability--as if she were somehow 
like the almost assuredly wanton Mrs. Cindy Cord. But 
she forced that consideration from her mind, and 
stepped out of the cubicle. Even if she wasn't having a 
good time, she had to pretend that she was enjoying 
herself; and she couldn't do that if she was constantly 
worrying about her partially undraped body.

Roger looked at her with critical approbation but said 
nothing. She allowed him to take her arm, and they went 
out to the sun porch again. Cord and his wife were 
sitting side by side on the tweed couch; two frosted 
tumblers filled with chipped ice sat next to the now-
full pitcher on a woven rattan table in front of them.

Cord stood up and favored Diane with a profligate smile 
as his eyes traveled the width and breadth of her 
creamy body. He emitted a long, low, appreciative 
whistle. "Well, now, aren't you something, Diane!"

She blushed under his frank examination. "T-thank you," 
she said in a faltering tone, lowering her eyes.

"You've got a beautiful, desirable woman there, Rog," 
Cord said. "You're a lucky man."

"Yes, a lucky man," Roger answered, but there was an 
undeniable note of bitterness in his voice that was 
painfully apparent to Diane.

"Let's have a drink," Cindy said, rising from the 
couch. She poured the two tumblers full of the pale, 
golden rum concoction.

"Good idea," Cord agreed earnestly. He picked up the 
full glasses and handed one to Roger and one to Diane. 
"Drink hearty, kids. There's plenty more where these 
came from."

Diane tasted hers responsively. The liquid was tart, 
without much alcohol taste at all, and really very 
refreshing; she didn't care for liquor much, and she 
was glad she wouldn't have to pretend to like the 
drinks, that she could compliment her host and hostess 
on them genuinely. She noticed that Roger had taken a 
long swallow from his glass, and was licking his lips. 
"Very good!" he said enthusiastically, beaming at 
Cindy.

"Thank you sir," she replied, dimpling prettily.

Cord suggested then that they all go out near the pool.

Cindy carried the pitcher of rum cocktails, and they 
took up residence at one of the white metal tables. The 
men began to talk business, discussing things like 
Roger's proposed new duties and advancement 
possibilities, and the women were soon completely 
ignored. Diane felt ill at ease, and at first Cindy 
made little effort to alter her discomfort; Diane 
noticed that Mrs. Cord's eyes periodically flashed to 
Roger, as if she were fascinated by him somehow.

Having nothing better to do, Diane finished her drink. 
Cord interrupted his conversation with Roger to pour 
her glass full and wink at her. Dutifully, in an effort 
to salvage something of the afternoon for herself, 
Diane promptly drank that second drink down 
immediately--only to have Cord refill the glass once 
more. The rum began to take its toll, and she 
experienced at first a general physical loosening of 
her body; the tenseness left her, and she felt 
completely relaxed. Then some of her mental 
cautiousness began to disappear, and, surprisingly, she 
found herself beginning a conversation with Cindy, 
telling her how much she liked the house and 
surroundings. A rapport seemed to build between the two 
women, and soon they were discussing the latest 
fashions and what it would be like to take a round-the-
world cruise.

Diane finished her third drink, and Cord quickly 
refilled her glass. She giggled, looking at Roger as 
she thanked Marc for his graciousness. Her husband's 
face was slightly flushed, and he was grinning 
crookedly. She realized that he, too, had had quite a 
few of the rum drinks. But she didn't care, not at all; 
she was beginning to enjoy herself now. She felt giddy 
and light headed, almost carefree. She was glad they'd 
come. Cindy wasn't half as bad as she had first 
thought, and Marc Cord was a very nice, very handsome, 
very urbane man whom she found herself liking more and 
more.

Roger wiped a hand across his perspiring forehead. 
"Whew," he said, "is it getting hotter, or is it just 
me?"

Cord grinned. "A little of both. Why don't you go for a 
swim, Rog?"

"Good idea. I think I will." He looked at Diane. "Want 
to come in with me?"

She shook her head, nuzzling her full glass. "Not just 
now," she answered. She really didn't care that much 
for the water, and besides, she was too relaxed--almost 
euphoric--sitting where she was.

"Why don't you join Rog, Honey?" Cord suggested to 
Cindy.

"You look a little warm yourself."

"Hot would be a better word," Cindy said with an 
inference that escaped Roger, and certainly eluded 
Diane. She stood up, running her hands provocatively 
down her smooth, bronzed sides. "Shall we, Roger?"

"After you, fair lady," Roger said gallantly, slurring 
the words a little.

Cindy trotted over to the edge of the pool and made a 
shallow, graceful dive into the long end of the L. She 
surfaced, tossing her wet black hair like a silky, 
curvaceous jungle cat. "Come on!" she urged Roger, who 
had padded up to the pool edge and was testing the 
temperature with one foot. "The water's fine!" She 
splashed a handful up at him, laughing; he pulled back, 
grinned lopsidedly, and then surged forward in an 
awkward, inelegant belly flop. Cindy howled 
convulsively and splashed him again as he broke 
surface, spitting water.

She swam expertly over to him and he could feel her 
body almost touching him as she treaded water. Goddamn, 
she was a fine, choice piece! I'll bet she's not cold 
and frigid in bed, he thought. I'll bet she's one hell 
of a fuck, all right. Cord wouldn't have a cold fish 
for a wife, not him; he'd have a hot, cock-sucking, 
wild-fucking woman, that's what he'd have and by God, 
that's almost surely what he's got!

Roger felt a tingling sensation at the base of his cock 
as desire coursed through him feverishly. He wanted to 
reach out to Cindy, to grab her, to.... Oh Christ, calm 
down, will you, Slater? That's your new boss's wife 
you're thinking about like that! Ease off. Yeah, and 
ease off on the booze, too. The last thing you need now 
is a repeat performance of last night; that would 
really foul things up beautifully, wouldn't it?

Cindy said, "Come on, Roger, I'll race you around to 
the shallow end."

"Okay," he answered automatically. Well, there was no 
harm in that, was there?

"Let's go!"

They set off. Cindy was a good swimmer and won the race 
easily. She was waiting for him, hands on her hips, as 
he reached her. Delighted, girlish laughter bubbled 
from her lips as he struggled through the water, 
pummeling it almost to a froth with awkward slapping 
strokes. He gained his feet, only to have Cindy put 
both of her slim hands on top of his head and duck him 
under. He reached out involuntarily as he was thrust 
beneath the surface to grab hold of her slim, firm 
waist and pull her off her feet. She gasped, flailing 
out for a moment, and then she too slid beneath.

The water at this shorter section of the L was only 
some four feet deep, and the formation of the pool hid 
their bodies partially from view of the grotto. As they 
thrashed about beneath the water, Roger felt Cindy's 
hand come in electric contact with his thigh, brushing 
along it only inches from his crotch. It seemed to 
linger there for a moment, and then move away. The 
surge of desire shot through him again, and he had to 
repress an urge to grasp the firm swelling mounds of 
her tits and ass as they cavorted. Her touch on his 
thigh had been an accident, of course... or had it?

They bobbed up, in water a little deeper so that their 
heads were almost the only parts of their anatomies 
visible as they stood on the pool bottom. Cindy was 
nearly as tall as he, and her eyes were on a level with 
his. She stood very close to him, her breasts almost 
touching his chest, her lips parted moistly with the 
tip of her pink, wet tongue showing.

"Are you having a good time, Roger?" she half 
whispered.

"Yes," he answered. His voice sounded strangely hoarse.

"Yes, I'm having a fine time, Cindy."

"I'm glad. I want you to enjoy yourself."

The inside of Roger's mouth was dry. He wished she 
wouldn't stand so close to him, so close that he could 
smell the woman odor of her. Jesus, he had half a hard-
on already at the touch of her hand...

"Let's play some more!" Cindy said suddenly, grabbing 
him and pushing him off balance. Again, they both 
ducked under. Roger twisted his body, feeling her surge 
against him, and then... and then her fingers brushed 
over the front of his suit, tracing the outline of his 
cock. They lingered there, massaging gently, gently, 
caressing with an almost maddening slowness that sent 
wild, burning ripples of passion flooding through his 
belly and brought his prick leaping into instant 
erection...

Roger's mouth opened in a reflexive gasp, and pool 
water poured into his throat, gagging him. He coughed 
spasmodically, fighting his way to the surface, 
spitting and hacking. Cindy came up with him, standing 
very close to him now, the hot firebrands of her near-
naked breasts touching his chest. "Did you like that, 
honey?" she breathed.

"L-like what?" he managed confusedly.

"Oh come on now," Cindy purred. "You know what I mean."

"No, n-no, I..."

"This," she said, and suddenly her hand was on his 
hardening penis again, stroking it lightly beneath the 
water. She chuckled huskily. "You ought to be ashamed 
of yourself, Roger honey. Pretending you didn't know 
what I meant when I just made that lovely cock of yours 
as hard as granite. You really do have a big one, too. 
I was hoping you would."

Roger's brain reeled. He couldn't believe this was 
happening! Cord's wife... playing with his prick... 
saying words which could only mean one thing, that she 
wanted him to fuck her... Jesus, her fingers on him 
were like broiling hot irons, inflaming his loins until 
lust consumed his very being.

His eyes flew guiltily toward the grotto, where Diane 
and Cord were still sitting at the white metal table. 
They weren't looking this way now, but if Marc should 
see what was going on... There was no telling what he 
would do! Surely, he would never give him, Roger, that 
promotion; he might even become violent...

Cindy's nimble, burning fingers continued to caress his 
rigid shaft, sliding down to oscillate back and forth 
across his swelling balls as she ground her soft tits 
against his chest. Her lips were parted, and she kept 
running her wet, hot tongue back and forth across them; 
her breath was fervid and sweet and ragged in his face, 
her eyes lidded with her own sensual appetites.

Roger knew he should pull back away from her, end this 
impossible scene before it reached the point of no 
return--but the salacious pleasure of her expert 
ministrations rendered him frozen, incapable of motion. 
What's the matter with her? he thought wildly. She must 
be crazy! Some kind of nymphomaniac! Playing with a 
man's cock less than a hundred feet from her husband, a 
man she's only just met...

"I'm going to take it out now," Cindy panted into his 
face.

"I want to hold your big thing in my hand, honey."

"Jesus Christ, Cindy," he wheezed.

"It's all right, honey, don't worry."

"What about Marc? What about my wife...?"

"They can't see us from where they are," Cindy moaned. 
"Just relax, honey, relax and enjoy it."

Dexterously, her fingers slid upward to pull back the 
waistband of his trunks, back and down until his blood-
raged member burst out and into the warm palm of her 
hand. She held it claspingly for a moment, making 
little animal sounds of abandoned joy deep in her 
throat, and then she began to stroke it gently, pushing 
the foreskin back, running her fingernails along the 
base of his cock, along the bloated sac of his balls. 
Roger felt the exquisite thrill of her manipulations 
bursting through his body, and suddenly he didn't care 
any more; he didn't care if Cord saw them, or if Diane 
saw them, or if the whole goddamned world saw them. The 
only thing that mattered was Cindy, luscious, 
beautiful, desirable Cindy with her hand playing with 
his genitals under the water.

"Slide your trunks down all the way, honey," Cindy 
breathed. "Hurry!"

He obeyed mindlessly, pulling them down as fast as he 
could. She cupped his balls in her hand now, rubbing 
them back and forth, squeezing them very gently, making 
the cum build hot and explosive in his scrotum. He 
looked down at her hand through the wavy translucence 
of the water, watching her, reveling in the searing 
sensations of lewd enchantment. Suddenly, he saw her 
tug at the bottom of her own suit, pushing it down to 
expose the dark black silky triangle of her pubic 
mound, down over her bronzed thighs. And then she was 
moving forward, guiding him toward the edge of pool 
with her hand on his cock, turning so that her back was 
pressed against the tile lip.

"Do you want to fuck me, Roger, honey?" she whispered 
against his ear. "Do you want to put your cock in my 
cunt?"

"Yes!" he moaned. "Yes, yes!"

"All right, baby, all right."

She leaned back against the tile, bracing her body 
against it, bringing her legs up through the water and 
spreading them to encircle his waist. Then she steered 
his cock to her until he felt the swollen head touch 
the pubic hair and soft butter-like lips of her cunt. 
She moved the head up and down along her pink slit, 
undulating her hips in the water in a circular motion 
as she locked her legs tighter about him.

"Do you want me to put it in now?" she teased.

"Yes, goddamn it, put it in, put it in!"

As if in obeyance, she thrust herself forward, 
skewering herself on his gigantic rod, burying it 
almost to the hilt in the warm, lubricious folds of her 
pussy. He gasped, and she gasped simultaneously, her 
hips still rotating, her hands coming up to grip him 
under the arms.

"Jesus Christ!" he said. "Oh Jesus Christ, Cindy!"

"Fuck me!" she hissed against his ear. "Roger honey, 
fuck me, fuck me!"

He dropped his hands to the quivering, oscillating 
moons of her buttocks, his fingers digging into the hot 
flesh. He began to fuck into her with long, hard lunges 
that received a momentum from the very depths of his 
toes. He felt an absolute power take hold of him in 
that moment, and he kneaded her ass with sadistic 
delectation. Harder and harder he drove his burgeoning 
shaft into her cunt, feeling her skewered on him in 
total subjection. He could feel the soft fleshy ridges 
deep inside her giving way before the relentless 
onslaught of his rampaging masculinity.

"Ooh yes!" she moaned against his ear, breathing liquid 
fire into the orifice. "Oh yes, that's it, honey, 
that's it!"

He strained his cock forward with all the strength of 
his hips and thighs, reveling in the forbidden act of 
which he was a part, deriving further sensations of 
lasciviousness from the knowledge of the nearness of 
his wife and his future boss. Oh God, oh Jesus, she was 
great, Cindy was beautiful, she was the best fuck he 
had ever had...!

She was moaning softly, incoherently now, her smooth 
velvety legs enveloping his waist in a death grip, her 
hips churning the water around them. The satiny folds 
of her vagina held him, squeezing tightly around his 
rigid column, milking it already of its first tentative 
dribblings of seminal lubrication. He knew she could 
feel every inch, every muscle and curve of his prick as 
she screwed her buttocks up tight against his pelvis. 
The bloated sac of his sperm-laden balls was pressed 
hard into the wet, wide-stretched crevice below her 
vaginal lips, and the soft, hair-covered skin danced 
maddeningly against the sensitive outer rings of her 
tiny, working anus. Shivers of wanton delight made her 
fuck him even harder, even more wildly.

There was nothing else in the world, the universe, for 
Roger at that very moment. He didn't see Marc and Diane 
stand in unison at the white metal table in the grotto, 
he didn't see her waver unsteadily, he didn't see Cord 
take her arm with a sly backward glance lead her toward 
the sun porch. Even if he had seen that, he wouldn't 
have cared. The only thing that existed for Roger 
Slater then was the boiling, surging flood of hot cum 
which was only seconds away from eruption in his 
ballooned testicles.

"Ohh yesss, fuck it hard, baby, fuck it hard, fuck it 
hard, give it to me!" Cindy wailed into his ear, her 
hips like a separate entity now, an entity gone mad as 
she twisted and contorted, opening her legs around his 
waist, squeezing them closed, endeavoring to ingest 
even more of his pistoning shaft into her belly.

Suddenly, she cried out, "Oh god baby, I'm... almost 
there, I'm... yes, YES!!"

Her body heaved toward his as the first delicious 
throes of her orgasm rocketed through her, spurring him 
on, locking him in. In that moment, he felt his own cum 
boil over, explode along the passage within his cock 
and burst from the widened opening in the glans like a 
volcanic eruption, flooding her inner cunt walls, the 
very core of her rapidly undulating belly, with surge 
after surge of the fiery white semen. She was mewling 
with total surrender, total lust-satiation, urging him 
incoherently never to stop filling her cunt with his 
wonderful hot seeds..

Finally he collapsed forward against her, pushing her 
back against the tiled edge of the pool. His prick 
began to deflate then, and slid out of her, trailing 
long sinuous strands of his cum like thin white sea 
kelp from her cunt. She stroked his face, smothering it 
with hot moist kisses. "Oh Christ, Roger, baby!" she 
breathed. "It was great, wasn't it? I just knew it 
would be!"

"Yes... yes, it was," Roger muttered. Half dazed by the 
tumultuous fucking he had just given, and in turn 
received, his eyes strayed dimly toward the grotto. For 
the first time, he saw that it was empty. "Diane?" he 
began. "Where did she and Marc?"

Cindy reached down to stroke his now flaccid prick 
gently. "Don't worry about them, honey. They're inside 
the house, where they can't see us."

Numbly, Roger nodded. It didn't occur to him in the 
aftermath of his satiated flesh to inquire why his wife 
and Marc Cord had gone into the house. Even now, the 
only thing that seemed to matter was this wild, wanton 
woman he had just screwed.

Cindy said, "Come on, honey, let's get out of the pool 
and go lie in the sun."

"What for?" he asked.

She laughed softly. "Because I think I can get you 
another hard-on, that's why. You'd like to fuck again, 
wouldn't you?"

"Yes," he answered. "God, yes!"

"If you're a good boy," Cindy giggled, rubbing his 
deflated

penis lightly with the tips of her fingers, "I might 
even suck you off. Would you like me to suck your big 
cock, Roger?"

He felt his limp prick give a convulsive leap at the 
sound of her words, come half-erect again in her hand. 
She kissed him passionately. "See?" she said. "I told 
you I could make it hard again."

He heard himself say the words he was then thinking, 
"Oh Christ, Cindy, I want to lick your cunt. I want to 
lick your cunt while you suck my cock!"

Her hand tightened on him. "Then let's go!" she said, 
and, still holding onto his genitals, she led him to 
the tile steps at the shallow end of the pool.


CHAPTER 4
---------

"The pitcher is empty, little girl," Marc Cord said, 
smiling and lifting the heavy cut crystal decanter for 
her to see.

Diane, her mind fuzzy from the rum, stared at it. "And 
I was almost ready for a refill." The sun sparkled off 
the glass, making her wince. Her whole physical being 
seemed to satisfyingly relax in the warm rays of the 
sun. She could have sat there forever...

"Come on," Marc urged, standing up. "Keep me company 
while I make some more."

She smiled up at him. He was really quite a man, she 
thought. Pure, raw, male animal, and she was... well, 
sort of attracted to him. Not that she was going to do 
anything about it, of course. She was married, and so 
was he. Hands off! Private property! But that didn't 
stop her from helping him mix some more rum cocktails, 
did it? Not at all!

"Love to," she replied. She rose unsteadily, and Marc 
took her arm. She accepted his assistance gratefully; 
with all the liquor she'd drunk and the soporific 
effect of the sun, she doubted she could make it to the 
door without it.

She giggled and took her empty glass as they walked to 
the sun porch. Marc opened the door and waited for her 
to enter. He led her to the tweed couch, and, in spite 
of her apprehension, she sat down and clasped her hands 
in her lap. He continued to talk of generalities as he 
crossed to the bar and opened the small refrigerator 
for more ice. Diane leaned back on the cushions, her 
mind drifting, hazy from the alcohol, and let his warm 
voice flow through her. She enjoyed the way he talked. 
He was so pleasant, almost like a brother rather than 
the ruthless ogre her husband had made him seem like. 
Well, Roger was wrong: Marc was not all that dangerous, 
all that terrible.

She leaned forward and for the first time noticed the 
hard-cover portfolio on the rattan table in front of 
her. The jacket had the gold embossed title: "Studies 
of Love". She touched the cover, afraid and yet a 
little curious as to what it might contain; but her 
inquisitiveness finally won out. She raised the cover 
and gazed at the first picture.

It was in full color, obviously taken by a skilled 
photographer. It depicted two people making love, their 
faces contorted in rapture. Diane gasped in sudden 
embarrassment and looked quickly over at Cord, who was 
still blandly mixing the new pitcher of rum cocktails 
and talking about the weather they had in Marin County, 
evidently oblivious to her knowledge of the portfolio.

Hypnotized by the carnal activity in the photo, Diane 
studied the photo, for she had never seen a picture of 
two people making love before, and it looked strange to 
her. She wondered if this was the way she and Roger 
looked, with the almost crab-like splaying of arms and 
legs. Then she turned to the next one, which was of a 
man having his penis sucked by a beautiful blonde 
woman. She thought of the night before, of her with 
Roger's member in her mouth; but the differences were 
obvious. 

The woman in the picture was enjoying it, her mouth 
stretched wide and her lips locked around it in an oval 
as though they would never release their prize. A 
ripple of secret desire coursed through Diane as she 
looked at the man's hardened penis, for it was even 
larger than Roger's, and she wondered how the woman 
could take it all without choking. 

She clenched her thighs together at the idea of having 
such a monster even between her legs, then quickly 
turned to the third photo. Just as explicitly this one 
showed the woman flat on her back on the floor, her 
knees drawn up to her breasts. The man was kneeling 
between her thighs, his tongue parting her pubic hair 
and curling in the wide pink slit of her vagina. Diane 
gaped at the obscene sight, and a small gasp of shock 
escaped her lips.

"You like them, Diane?" came a smiling voice which made 
her jump, and a hand appeared with a fresh drink for 
her.

"Well... well, no I don't. Not really." She took the 
drink from Marc and a quick swallow in a vain attempt 
to hide the fact that she was blushing. She looked at 
Cord, thought, and saw that there was an amused 
expression on his face.

"Don't be so sure, Diane. Even I enjoy looking at such 
things occasionally."

"You don't mean that you... approve of what those 
people are doing, do you?" she blurted incredulously. 
"They're like... animals!"

"Who can tell what should or shouldn't be done in 
passion? It's a very strong emotion. Everybody needs 
passion to make themselves happy, don't they? To make 
the person they love happy?"

"Of course," she agreed. "But doing... doing such 
perverted acts can't be a part of that happiness."

"No? Well, I think the couple in the photos made each 
other happy."

Diane felt confused. She knew she shouldn't have had 
that last drink, and even though she felt that she was 
right, she wasn't in any condition to be arguing 
morality--or anything else. She blinked heavily trying 
to clear her mind of blurred thoughts, thoughts of the 
previous night and her unwilling initiation into sexual 
deviations. Roger had always seemed satisfied with her, 
at least most of the time, but she did have to admit 
she was unknowledgeable about certain things. 

Did it really take such acts to hold a man? No, of 
course not. How could she consider such a perverted 
idea? It was evil just to think of things like that, 
much besides lower oneself to perform them. Or... was 
it? For the first time in her life, Diane seriously 
began to question her frozen values, wondering if she 
really didn't know what a man wanted or needed 
physically. She tipped the glass again, her throat 
parched from embarrassment and nervousness.

"You're really going at that rum," Cord said.

"Mmmmm," she replied. "These are good." Despite the 
heavy commitment she had toward her inbred code of 
morals, Diane began to feel faint stirrings of arousal 
once again churn her body. Moisture seeped between her 
legs, and she pressed her thighs tightly together and 
moved her buttocks against the rear of the sofa in a 
vain attempt to quiet the lascivious tingling. "I-I 
think maybe we'd better go back outside, Marc. Perhaps 
Roger and Cindy are waiting for us."

"Oh, I doubt that," Marc said, and Diane detected a 
sudden change in his voice. "I saw them as I was making 
the drinks."

She frowned. "What do you mean, together?"

Cord, his lips pursed and his forehead furrowed, walked 
around from the back of the couch and sat down beside 
Diane. He looked straight at her. "I mean we have a 
situation on our hands, Diane," he said seriously, "One 
that isn't as academic as the photos you were looking 
at." He dipped his eyes and peered into his drink, then 
rotated the glass in his hand. "I don't know how to put 
this, Diane, but--well, I've known for some time that 
Cindy has been playing around, and..." He paused, 
shaking his head in a mixture of pathos and anger. 
"Well, maybe you had better look for yourself."

He took her hand and she rose, still confused as to 
what he was talking about. He led her around the couch 
and over to the bamboo-blinded window and drew aside 
the curtain.

"Look," he said. "Over there, by the shallow end of the 
pool."

Diane took one quick glance, and suddenly she felt as 
if she would scream. Instead, she raised the glass to 
her lips in convulsive horror and swallowed heavily, 
thirstily, not tasting the liquid at all. "Oh no, no!" 
she gasped as she lowered the almost empty glass. 
"Oh... my god, I don't believe it! No, no, no!"

What she had seen was Cindy lying spread-eagle on a 
large, fluffy towel, completely nude, rolling her head 
in contorted ecstasy and Roger, kneeling between her 
naked legs, running his tongue moistly up and down her 
bronzed body. He paused to suck her nipples to hardened 
points, and then traced a wet hot path down to the flat 
plane of her stomach and inner thighs. Cindy's hands 
were tangled in his hair, her expression that of a 
woman possessed.

Diane leaned against the window sill, unable to move. 
"I-I don't believe it!" she gasped again.

Cord snorted slightly and folded his arms across his 
broad chest. "Good God, Diane, it's plain to see! 
They're making love."

Diane tried to blot out the horrid scene in front of 
her. Dear God! There had to be a reason, a logical 
explanation! How how could her husband, her Roger, 
be... be...

Cindy was at fever pitch. Her mouth hung open with 
ecstatic rapture and her glassy eyes stared at nothing 
but her own inner lust. Roger positioned himself with 
his mouth over her pubic mound, his fingers splayed on 
her belly and his thumbs on the outer lips of her 
vagina. Diane sucked in her breath as she watched Roger 
part the soft patch of pubic hair and expose the other 
woman's moist red slit, then drop his head over Cindy's 
desire-writhing cunt. Cindy's body jerked as if struck 
by lightning, and her thighs clamped over Roger's ears 
in a vise-like grip, her hips beginning to move with 
the rhythm of his slavering tongue.

Diane was completely absorbed in the horrible lewdness 
being performed before her eyes. She gaped in 
disbelief, but her own body began to involuntarily sway 
in time to that of Cindy's undulations as her husband 
continued the nerve-shattering licking of the woman's 
widespread vaginal slit. Then Diane realized that Marc 
was speaking again. She wrenched her mind back to where 
she was, asked: "What? What did you say?"

"I said that I'm going to mix another drink, Diane. We 
could both use another." He took her glass.

Almost mesmerically, Diane's eyes returned to the 
fantastic sight in front of her. All she cared about, 
all she saw in her mind, were the two naked writhing 
bodies on the towel.

Roger's fat stump of a cock had protruded into view, 
now. It was enormously thick, and for a sudden, crazy 
second Diane wondered how she had ever taken him all, 
and then she was further transfixed by the thought that 
she was now going to see her husband making love to 
another woman.

But Roger worked his way up Cindy's sweat-soaked body 
and straddled her breasts. Diane could see his penis 
standing out from his belly, its scarlet head but a few 
inches from Cindy's gasping opened mouth. Roger reached 
back with one hand and moved his middle finger down the 
already wet pink folds of her wide stretched pussy, 
then plunged his finger to the third knuckle into the 
waiting, lust-quivering hole. 

He rotated it around, pumping in mock copulation, and 
Cindy squirmed and pushed against the exquisite digital 
torture. She flicked her tongue out and rubbed it along 
the underside of Roger's swollen shaft, then encircled 
the head, bathing it, kissing the dilated opening. She 
strained forward, her neck muscles clearly visible and 
closed her lips like an elastic band around Roger's 
turgid cock. She took it deep, and Roger leaned forward 
and began a rocking motion, a grin of animal passion 
wide across his face.

He's too big! Diane thought, fascinated with horror as 
Cindy's convoluted lips sucked as though she had waited 
forever for that magic moment. Her cheeks hollowed on 
the out-stroke and filled on the in-stroke with a 
puckered hunger whose very lustiness made Diane cringe. 
God! He's going to make her suck him until he... he 
cums! He's going to flood his hot sticky sperm until he 
drowns her in it! He's going to... to drown her!

Cord appeared, standing close to her, so close that his 
trunks touched the backs of her naked thighs. The touch 
was electrifying to her and she whirled suddenly to 
him, wide eyed, charged with a combination of 
licentiousness and loathing. "What... what...?" she 
began haltingly, afraid to look into Marc's eyes but 
accepting automatically the fresh drink he offered her.

"What do you think we should do, Diane?" Cord asked 
calmly. "The man out there is your husband, remember, 
and he's on top of my wife and she's sucking the living 
hell out of him."

"You don't have to be so... so graphic!"

"At a time like this, you're worried about that? Don't 
you care what's happening out there?"

"Of course I do! It makes me sick!" she shot back at 
him thickly.

"Then don't you think there ought to be reprisals?"

Diane stared at him. She searched his eyes and saw an 
almost lecherous response. "I--I don't understand."

"Simple. An eye for an eye." Marc licked his lips. "A 
wife for a wife."

Diane felt her stomach lurch and a clamminess crept 
across her body. She stiffened. Marc continued to look 
at her, a smile creeping across his handsome features. 
"Does that idea sicken you so much?"

Diane's brain whirled. "Two wrongs don't make a-a 
right. Who do you think I am, making a proposition like 
that? A whore?"

Marc placed his hand on her bare stomach. Diane 
couldn't deny in her liquor-numbed mind that his touch 
sent a thrill through her, already being aroused from 
the obscene display on the patio, but that didn't 
change the fact that she was married, nor that her 
entire upbringing had prepared her to be repulsed by 
this... this filth!

"Stop, Marc!" she moaned, pulling back from his hand. 
"Please, stop it!" She turned her head from his gaze, 
but in so doing her eyes once more feasted upon the 
carnally locked couple on the towel.

Roger jerked his cock suddenly from Cindy's mouth and 
he moved downward again, then slightly to one side, his 
hands racing over the firm, but yielding bronzed flesh. 
He pulled her legs wide and parted the petal-like lips 
of her cunt, and then crawled between them. Cindy 
reached between their legs and grasped the blunt, fiery 
pole of his penis and with a twisted look of passion, 
sunk his cock deep into her dark, waiting hole of lust. 
Her whole body twitched and leapt with abandon as their 
bellies smacked together and Roger cupped the trembling 
moons of her ass and strained to push his cock further 
in.

Diane stood motionless as her husband began the slow 
grinding of each long stroke, and for some reason 
instead of the utter revulsion she expected to feel, 
there was a peculiar twittering quiver deep between her 
thighs. She closed her eyes and pressed back against 
Marc's chest, but still the vision of Roger's gleaming 
cock, moist the full length from Cindy's lips, raced 
through her mind.

Suddenly, Cord's hand snaked around her, and she felt 
her right breast slowly being massaged through the 
flimsy material of her bikini top. She was momentarily 
powerless to stop it. Then the suit was raised and her 
full, slightly quivering breast was free, its nipple 
hard against the sudden rush of air. Diane uttered a 
moan as Marc's thumb worked the rigid bud, and pleasure 
shot the full length of her body.

"He's fucking my wife," Cord whispered provocatively 
into her ear. "Did you see him?"

"Yes, oh yes," Diane mumbled back in a daze, the lewd 
word strangely exciting to her.

Marc continued to play with her exposed tit, grinding 
his pelvis tightly into hers. He slid his other hand 
down around the soft roundness of her buttocks. Her 
body stiffened in panicked realization of what was 
happening.

"Oh, no, Marc, we can't... we can't do this!"

"Why not? Your husband's fucking my wife isn't he?"

"Oh no, please don't do this to me!" she pleaded, her 
eyes tearing with the salt of anguish.

Cord lowered his head and completely engulfed her soft 
lips with his, and his tongue darted out to slip 
between her teeth. An uncontrollable tremor surged 
through her, her mouth opening to the pillage of his 
onslaught, her entire being relaxing against him. He 
held her closer, his big hands hot and moving as they 
pressed the spheres of her smooth, firm buttocks to his 
now bulging trunks, forcing her groin to grind against 
his swelling cock.

"Stop, Marc!" Diane mewled, "Oh no, no... no!" She 
squirmed away from his grip. "I don't know what we can 
do about... about that... outside, but it can't be 
this! I'm not some, some slut you can... can take at 
will."

"I know you're not, Diane," Cord breathed into her ear 
as he closed in again, his hand returning to her waist 
as he drew her to him with powerful arms once more. 
"But I plan to repay your husband's generosity in the 
best way possible."

His hands began to fondle the tight, cloth-encased 
cheeks of Diane's buttocks. Momentarily she struggled, 
but then she realized the total futility of the 
situation. She couldn't scream, couldn't run... He 
kissed her hotly, and his right hand came up from her 
hips and massively closed over her still exposed right 
breast, absorbing its cool, full flesh as though she 
were a budding child.

"Oh... oh... oh...!" she cried, suddenly alive with 
livid sensations. His hands, his tongue, his whole 
enveloping body began to enflame her, and she gasped 
from the wantonness and craving which was rapidly 
overtaking her. Marc's hand traveled teasingly over her 
whole body, touching her breast, her stomach, her 
thigh... her inner thigh... then the narrow secretion 
band of her suit bottom. Yes! Yes! Oh God, his fingers 
felt good; They were so soft and warm and agonizingly 
close!

A low purring of arousal escaped from her lips, and she 
breathed heavily, the blood hotly coursing through her 
veins. Cord smiled down at her, and then began to lead 
her gently away from the window and back to the couch. 
"'Yes, baby, yes," he crooned. "We're going to really 
make it."

Gently, he pushed her down on her back on the couch, 
and she rubbed her legs along the cushions, undulating 
her thighs from the building passion. She raised her 
arms to Marc in almost drugged supplication, and he in 
turn kneeled beside her. His searing mouth and tongue 
pressed hard against her pliant, now-willing lips. His 
hands continued to play along her skin, slipping up and 
down her inner thigh, brushing against the burning, 
vibrant mound of her soft, young pussy.

"Oh, Marc... oh Marc, please don't... oh yes!" she 
moaned. His fingers slipped up inside the narrow leg 
band of her bathing suit, and she cringed at the 
devilish touch. Her mind tried to preserve the vestiges 
of her principles, her concepts of morality, even as 
her body betrayed her with prurient desire.

Then Cord, unheeding her final, weakened pleas of 
mercy, fingered the rich valley of her cunt, stroking 
the hair-covered ridges and burrowing deep to slide 
around the already blood-engorged clitoris. She 
involuntarily raised her hips, rotating her sex-
hungered thighs in helpful deliberation, spreading her 
legs so he could wander between her thighs at will. Her 
arms were wrapped around his neck tightly and she 
whimpered into his ear. trailing hot, moist kisses 
across his face while slowly, surely, he insinuated his 
teasing fingers into the moist folds of her warm, 
slavering vaginal orifice.

Oh god... this... this is so wrong... wrong! her brain 
screamed to her, but caught in the emotional agony of 
sensual desire, she could only groan and bite her lip. 
Cord parted the sensitive slit of her cunt and teased 
the soft, surrounding pubic hair as he made sudden, 
ecstatic contact with her throbbing clitoris. Diane 
sensed her own deep wetness from her unwanted passion 
and the electrifying shock of his caresses. He began to 
remove her suit pants, to edge them down over her full, 
well shaped thighs and hips, to worm insidiously the 
last defense from her deliriously pulsating pussy. 
Abruptly, the cool air upon the pubic hair of her groin 
triggered the last defiant rejection of his maddening 
probe.

"Stop it! Stop it!" she cried, thrusting her hands 
against his heavy chest and writhing and kicking, 
trying to push him away. "Oh, for God's sake, get off 
me! Let me up!"

"Goddamn it!" Marc pressed tighter, refusing to remove 
his middle finger and continuing the outrageous rampage 
of her tender, sensorial cunt. "It's too late for us to 
stop, baby. I've tried to be patient with you, to make 
it nice and enjoyable, but one way or the other I'm 
going to do just what I said. I'm going to fuck you, 
baby." He leered hotly down at her, eyes flashing with 
the uncontrollable lust of sexual frenzy. "Your 
husband's out there fucking my wife, and if you don't 
cooperate in return, baby, I'll fire him on the spot. 
Understand? You and I get together, and Roger will get 
his promotion, but if you don't..."

His threat was clear to Diane in spite of her confused, 
liquor-dazed mind. She realized that she was in a 
horrible mess, with no way out. There was nothing she 
could do, nothing... oh Roger, Roger, what shall I do? 
Tears of humiliation and debasement showered down her 
face, and with sudden revulsion she realized that in 
her helplessness her hips were once more grinding up in 
response to the tantalizing play of Marc's maddening 
finger reinserted inside her vagina. Her lower torso 
reacted uncontrollably to his ministrations in a 
cadence with her quivering clitoris and wet, writhing 
vaginal slit.

"Make up your mind!" he said suddenly. "What's it going 
to be?"

Her reply caught in her throat. If she cooperated, he 
could take any indecent and licentious liberties with 
her she rationalized... but at least Roger would have 
his position secured. And then... maybe after some time 
had passed, she could repair the damage of their lives 
and this would be forgotten in the passages of their 
future happiness. But dear God, if Marc should fire him 
as he promised... well, she hated to think what that 
would do to Roger, to the two of them, to whatever they 
might have left. "Oh, oh, yes, yes I'll do it!" she 
hissed between clenched teeth, her body surrendering 
completely.

Cord smiled triumphantly to himself and moved his 
bronzed body farther over her, and kissed her hotly, 
his giant tongue slipping deeply inside her mouth as 
his hand caressed her now wide open loins. Diane moaned 
beneath him, fighting vainly to maintain control of her 
body as the electrifying jolts of his massaging fingers 
began to seethe through her very essence. 

She felt him raise her up and unclip the brassiere 
snap, and closing her eyes she hunched her shoulders in 
automatic assistance. And then he removed the bathing 
suit halter and lowered it to the floor. Her throbbing 
alabaster breasts with their distended nipples were 
completely exposed and with an appreciative gasp, Marc 
rolled his hands over them, kneading and squeezing the 
nipples between his fingers and thumbs. Then his 
slavering lips encompassed one aureole, his tongue 
flicking and rolling the jewel-hard nipple maddeningly.

"I'm going to make you naked all the way now, baby," he 
said throatily. "Help me."

Diane clenched her eyes tightly shut in lewd surrender 
and raised her hips, and strained her back as he slid 
the last sheath of suit down over her writhing 
buttocks. It was suddenly as if bonds had been dropped 
from her body, for the feeling of being totally naked 
before the hungry eyes of a strange man was both 
deliciously decadent and wonderfully evil. 
Unconsciously she flexed her warm, damp pussy toward 
the cool air, and her pubic hair almost stretched from 
its imprisonment inside the suit. She played her hands 
down her sides with abandonment, mewling and sighing 
with abject licentiousness. She spread her ivory 
columned legs and tightened her stomach muscles, her 
eyes still mercifully shut to her shameless actions.

Oh Roger! Oh Roger, can you ever forgive me? And then 
came the flashing realization that she had nothing to 
apologize for to Roger, not as long as he was... was 
fucking... that word! But yes, it was fucking she 
meant... fucking that woman outside. She opened her 
eyes and stared at the man above her, then widened them 
still further as she realized he had removed his own 
bathing suit. He was standing over her, a salacious 
grin twisting his features, his hand stroking the 
heavy, uncircumcised foreskin of his corpulent, blood-
pumped penis back and forth over the hard, bulbous 
head. Good God! No woman could take all that! It would 
rip her insides open!

"Roger this big, baby?" Marc taunted, his eyes cruelly 
gleaming. "Well, you just wait until it's all stuffed 
up in your belly and then compare!"

She couldn't stop staring at his obese cock, and at the 
sight of her own naked body helpless beneath it. She 
was filled with shame, and it further dawned on her 
that her husband's boss was actually enjoying this 
torture, was reveling in this cruel debauchery of her 
soul.

"We'll teach that damned husband of yours to fuck my 
wife," he continued, tormenting her further, watching 
the twisted contortion of her fear-ridden features. 
Again, Diane felt the hot tears dribble from her eyes, 
and she knew that Marc would brook no mercy. She hardly 
heard his filthy words, her mind too occupied with the 
hopelessness of her situation and the horrifying 
distress of knowing Marc was as wanton as her husband. 
Dear Lord, there was nowhere to turn for help, nowhere 
to save herself from the ravishment which awaited her! 
She was alone. How could she have ever thought of this 
man as a brother, as someone safe?

Yet even as she groveled in the acute sense of terror, 
the slight traces of desire began to amplify through 
her momentarily dormant senses. She rose to meet his 
body as he dropped on top of her, the hardness of his 
thick, pulsating penis gouging her soft flesh of her 
belly, his huge hands once more prowling over her full, 
erect breasts. She whined from the combination of 
desire and pain, and then their lips closed upon one 
another, their tongues twisting and stabbing deep into 
their respective mouths with mounting lust.

"You're going to beg me for it when I'm through," Marc 
promised. "You're going to cry with ecstasy, baby, so 
help me!"

He moved down her undulating body with wild, licking 
strokes of his tongue, until his head was just above 
her defenselessly spread thighs.

"Oh, no, Marc... not that, please not that!"

The remembrance of the night before and Roger's drunken 
kisses upon her unprotected vagina returned to Diane 
with vivid clarity. She clenched her small fists 
together, her arms tight against her ribs and tried to 
close her legs from Cord's assault. Her vibrant, naked 
flesh crawled with the idea of the impending 
perversion, but the palms of his hands were already 
against the inner flesh of her thighs and were 
spreading them apart ever further. She raised her head 
as Marc gazed hungrily down at the warm pink slit 
fringed so delicately with its soft, golden pussy 
hair... Diane whimpered. She, too, could see how her 
body betrayed her, for her coral flesh was tinged with 
tiny, glistening droplets of desire, and the 
glistening, petal-like lips of her cunt almost cried 
out to the leering face of the lust-inflamed man above. 
She watched petrified as slowly, deliberately, Marc 
spread her secret shame-filled vagina with his thumbs 
and dropped his lips to kiss the enchanted area.

"Oohh, Marc, oohh!" she groaned, but the only response 
from him was to snake his long, teasing tongue against 
her defenseless genitals. Her body lurched against the 
bestial outrage, her stomach churning in horror and 
humiliation as his lapping tongue slithered around her 
open pussy lips. She begged in her shame for him to 
stop his violent assault, yet he only labored faster, 
his mouth and tongue making wet, obscene licking sounds 
which filled the room with their lewd echoes of 
abandoned carnal desire. 

Then again in horror, the unwanted sensations of 
pleasure pervaded her body, and her quivering cunt 
dilated with total surrender to his scurrilous 
defilement. His hands moved back to her breasts and 
clenched them almost brutally, the apex of his actions 
designed to collapse her young pride and morals. She 
tried to pull her eyes from his wildly moving head and 
grasping hands, but she only continued to stare as he 
sucked insanely at her open vagina, the desperation of 
trying to keep the blissful palpabilities from being 
acknowledged by every vein, muscle and cord of her 
subjugated body.

Suddenly his tongue found her erect, pulsing clitoris, 
and he explored it as she whined in agonized pleasure. 
He took the tiny button between his teeth and nipped 
it, running the tip of his tongue over it. Diane moved 
her head back and forth, flailing her hair and cried 
out with animal ecstasy, gripping the edges of the 
couch with straining hands. 

Cord opened the hungry vault of his mouth and lowered 
his tongue to the heated, throbbing cavern of her 
vagina; as he orally fucked her, he heard the gurgling 
and mewling sounds from her lips. He swirled his tongue 
and surged it in and out of her clasping cunt, then 
drew her legs up and slid his arms underneath so that 
his shoulders were wedged between her thighs. He 
clutched her tight, satiny buttocks with both hands and 
shifted them closer to his questing lips.

She howled from the searing delight which rose from the 
liquid depths of her pussy, and she reached desperately 
for him, her hands fighting to rid herself of the 
thrusting, pulsating tongue sunk so deep between her 
legs. Then they suddenly dropped their futile battle 
and tangled themselves wildly in his hair and pulled 
his mouth still further into her.

She was his now! Marc Cord gloated to himself, 
relishing the fact that this tender young morsel of a 
wife was his to play with, to subjugate, use discard... 
fuck... however his mood struck him. He dropped his 
mouth still lower and poked his tongue into the tiny 
hole of her anus. The crude, forbidden act plunged 
Diane into never before realized raptures, and the 
seething contact of his lips to her asshole made her 
scream with erotic delight. She closed her eyes and let 
herself become lost in the sensual pleasure which 
surged through her love-starved nerves. She rolled her 
hips and screwed her rectum onto his stiffened tongue, 
the goose-flesh raising on her quaking belly and 
heaving breasts.

"Ohhhh, Marc, love me... love me!" she heard herself 
plead, her shame gone beneath the overpowering conquest 
of his lickings. She had no control, but no longer 
wanted any, and there was no longer any restraint in 
the furious spasms which had seized control of her 
actions. The intense internal rapture that she had 
never known before made her body cry out for 
fulfillment.

She had broken like a young mare to his will now, and 
Cord could only congratulate himself on the success on 
his well-laid plans. He continued to curl his tongue 
deep into the passages of her cunt and anus, while she 
thrust herself up to his mashed face and forced his 
head down into her silky hair-lined crotch. She was 
past the point of no return, and he was damned if he 
was going to let her escape his full benefit. Yes, 
Cindy had done her job well, but there never had been a 
question of that. She loved to fuck, and Roger Slater 
had the dumb good looks to arouse her immediately. She 
was having her fill of the ambitious but unimaginative 
Mr. Slater, and now, he, the injured husband, was 
reaping his strategic rewards.

"You're going to get fucked now!" Cord moaned as his 
mouth rested from her vagina. "God damn it, I'm going 
to screw you like you've never been screwed before!"

Diane cringed under his lewd phrases, but they excited 
her still more. She whispered, "Yes... yes... yes!" in 
an abandoned response, spreading her legs, dropping 
them from Marc's shoulders. Then he crawled over and 
said hoarsely, "Take my cock, Diane, and put it in your 
cunt."

She hesitated only for a moment, and then slipped her 
hand between their quivering bodies and grasped his 
hard, triton-sized prick in her right hand and guided 
it over her full fleshy cunt lips. The rubbery head 
sent stinging responses through her as it parted the 
soft sparse pubic hair and touched the ragged, saliva 
drenched sides of her pussy. She held her breath, for 
he was directly next to the tight, gently throbbing 
mouth of her vagina. She felt the first pressure of his 
drive. 

"Ohhhh!" she breathed in helpless protest, but the 
penis continued to worm forward and cruelly stretch the 
elastic opening until she felt as though she were 
splitting apart down between her thighs, just as she 
had feared upon seeing his huge swollen penis a few 
moments ago.

Cord grinned with sheer raw lust. He glared down at the 
helpless, innocent young wife spread-eagled under him, 
the head of his prick disappearing into the soft 
tickling hair of her cunt. He had to fuck her! He had 
to!

He fell forward in a sudden rush of passion, burying 
his cock like a raging battleaxe to its hilt, smashing 
her tits to her chest, sinking to her belly without 
mercy or thought of injury. The soft ridges of her cunt 
enclosed his rampaging machine in soft velvetness. He 
slowly stroked outward, then shoved back in, making her 
gasp with pain.

"Like it?" he sneered in crazed torment.

"Ohhhhh, yes, oh yes!" she groaned, beginning to react.

There was no reason to deny the flames of carnality 
which seared her body, for she was lost. Lost! Cord had 
taken everything that was right and good from her, and 
she in turn had abandoned control over herself. The 
abysmal thought of her total surrender sent chills 
coursing along her spine and she twitched and writhed 
to the slow rhythm of her husband's boss's penis 
skewering inside her.

Cord slipped his hands down her sides and under the 
undulating orbs of her ass, grasping one, then the 
other, reveling in their flexing as he pressed his 
hands tightly to them. He jerked her harder to his 
loins and felt her pulling her cunt against his cock. 
She flowered open to receive still more, insatiable 
now. He moved with long, smooth strokes that brought 
his cock to the edge of her now hungrily snapping 
vagina on the back-thrust and then forward into her 
uplifted buttocks until he could feel the harsh slap of 
his bludgeoning balls against her tiny puckered anus. 
He thought of a further humiliation he could subject 
upon Diane and began to run his fingertips along the 
sides of her pussy, fondling the contracting lips, 
bringing still more moaning of abandonment from her as 
her ever more insatiable vagina worked to swallow his 
greedy cock.

The pain had long since vanished from her loins and her 
legs jerked and quivered on either side of his impaling 
rod with uncontrolled cadence. Diane slavered her 
tongue around her lips as she mewled in pleasure, and 
her neck and thighs strained with the intensity of 
emotion. There was nothing save the fantastically 
delicious sensation of lying beneath this man and 
returning thrust for thrust the wild fucking he was 
giving to her. Diane knew that Marc smiled the smile of 
a man triumphant, but she did not care.

He quickened his charging thrusts, hot and deep, as she 
thrashed beneath him. He could feel the power of her 
impending cum. Her breasts heaved against the pressure 
of his chest and the tiny diamond nipples dug deep into 
his bare chest, and her legs jerked out wide and up on 
either side of his pounding body. The plateau of her 
crotch was wide open to his pile-driver grindings, and 
the untouched recesses of her womb pushed against his 
brutal thrusts. He wanted her to remember this 
revolutionary turning point in her life, and worked 
harder and faster to make it true.

Then, "Oh Christ... Om my god, I'm cumming! Cumming! 
I'M CUMMING!" She shivered under him, her cunt suddenly 
opening around him like a flood gate, voraciously 
gushing wet, sticky fluid around his madly pistoning 
cock. She jerked towards him several times, the lips of 
her vagina seething in a desperate sucking attempt to 
milk his penis dry. Her breath came ragged and choked, 
and he dove still deeper into her burning channel of 
sensuality. Then the boiling spigot of his own juices 
untapped to pour forth foaming jets of white, creamy 
sperm, and the top of his cock shot the hot, scalding 
liquid far, up into her soft, palpitating belly. Their 
frothing juices mingled into a reservoir of mutual joy 
and passion which Diane had never before in her life 
realized existed.

Her body, beaten and satiated, collapsed beneath Marc, 
her legs suddenly limp, her heart near bursting from 
her chest. Sanity seemed to return as the waves of 
sensuality receded, and then the shame and humiliation 
came back. She remembered where she was, and who was on 
top of her, whose thick penis was buried in her still 
gently throbbing vagina. But the only thought which 
burned through her was to leave this horrible, 
degrading place and never return. Even though she had 
caught Roger making love to Cindy, it still did not 
give her right to do what she had done. Roger must 
never find out. Never!

Cord retracted his now deflated rod gently, and in 
agony, she rolled over, covering her exposed vaginal 
slit from his view with her thighs. She tried to blot 
out the closeness of him by throwing an arm over her 
eyes. It was enough to have been so weak and to have 
allowed Marc the unrestrained use of her body, but now 
his crudely deposited semen seeped from her cunt and 
began to trickle down her inner thighs, hot and sticky, 
making Diane whimper from further indignity.

"That was great, baby!" Cord said with an unmistakably 
victorious smile on his lips.

"Yes," she replied coldly. "Now let me up."

Cord smiled at her and slid off and stood up, 
retrieving his bathing suit. His limp prick hung 
dormant, the thick veneer of their cum juices 
coagulating around its wrinkled skin. Diane reached for 
her bra and bathing suit pants, pushing his offered 
hand away. She couldn't stand the touch of him. Not 
now, not after the terrible, debasing debacle she had 
just been subjected to. But in spite of herself, she 
watched how easily and naturally Marc stood before her, 
and she gazed hypnotically at the thick thatch around 
his groin as he eased his trunks up his legs. His balls 
were large and well attached; little reflexive shivers 
crawled up her spine.

"Come on," Marc said comfortingly. "If you're ready, 
we'll go back outside. Maybe you'd like a swim to cool 
off."

Diane froze, humiliation running rampant through her 
whole being, making her cheeks flush a deep red hue. 
The miserable ordeal of facing Roger now overwhelmed 
her, and she wasn't sure if she could stand it, not 
with another man's lewd sperm still boiling within her 
belly...

"What's the matter, Diane?" Marc asked softly. "You're 
not worried about your husband, are you?"

She could only nod, the choking reply of, "Roger, Roger 
will never understand," bubbling from her trembling 
lips.

Marc laughed softly. "Really, Diane. He's had his, 
hasn't he. Isn't turnabout fair play?"

"It's... different with a man."

"No, it isn't. Not any more, Diane. You'd better begin 
living in the Twentieth Century. Your grandmother 
opened the gates when she fought for equal rights, and 
the equality she won should naturally extend to the bed 
as well. True democracy must include sex, for that's 
one of the basic freedoms if anything is, and we men 
should welcome that fact."

Mesmerically, his words churning in her brain, Diane 
let him lead her out of the living room and into the 
still bright afternoon sun. She looked down at her bare 
feet, unable to meet the eyes of the now dressed couple 
seated calmly at the grotto table. She was so ashamed, 
so mortified. She wanted to die!

"Bring the drinks, darling?" Cindy said loudly as they 
approached. Diane couldn't help but think how 
unconcerned she sounded, just as if nothing had 
happened. Just as if she had not screwed Roger and Marc 
had not just finished with her. Oh God, why couldn't 
the earth just open up and swallow her on the spot? 
Must she go through with this horrid farce?

"Sure, Cindy," Marc replied, holding the pitcher aloft.

"Right here. Got the glasses ready?"

She numbly sat down across from Roger, head still 
bowed. He wouldn't look at her either, his own eyes 
lowered guiltily. Diane put her hands on the table and 
stared at her nails, two rivulets of tears running down 
her cheeks unheeded, for she was past resistance. 
Nothing mattered any more.

There was a silence as the glasses were filled, and 
then Cindy said in a casual tone: "Well, how was it, 
kids?"

Marc chuckled. "Great. Diane's a fabulous lay. Roger, 
you should really consider yourself lucky to have such 
a wild piece of ass for a wife."

Roger jerked to his feet in disbelief. "What? What are 
you saying, Marc. Did you...? Were you two in 
there...?" His words dripped bitterness and terror and 
instant loathing. He looked as if he were going to 
vomit.

Diane thought about running. Running anywhere to escape 
this dreadful, agonizing scene. But there wasn't any 
place she could go; this was her hell, her punishment. 
Whatever had been left of her marriage was finished for 
good now, she thought. Her whole life had crashed 
around her, for within the past hour she had changed 
from an innocent and faithful wife to a common whore, a 
sperm basin for a complete stranger. The full impact of 
the hour struck her with complete impact and she 
cringed in her chair, waiting for the cauldron of 
deserved abuse Roger was sure to heap upon her.

"Now, wait a minute, Roger," Cord said placidly. But 
his voice was authoritarian, full of control. "Sit down 
and listen to me."

For the first time, Diane ventured to look up. Roger 
was staring at her, burning a brand of loathing on her 
forehead. She averted her eyes, unable to withstand his 
naked hatred. But he obeyed Cord's command and sat down 
again.

"That's better. Roger, are you going to deny that you 
were screwing my wife?"

"I..." Roger choked, caught on his own petard. "I..."

"Don't make excuses. We watched you giving it to her. 
Diane and I both."

There was a long, terrible silence. Diane could not 
control herself. "Oh, please, Roger, forgive me! Please 
forgive me! I-I didn't know what I was doing! It was a 
mistake, a horrible mistake!"

"No," Marc said calmly. "Not any more than my wife was 
mistaken in fucking you, Roger. I liked it, Cindy liked 
it, and damn it, if you'd both be honest with 
yourselves, you'd realize you liked it, too." He 
paused. "If you regard each other as exclusive 
possessions, and hold that sex is fundamentally dirty, 
degrading, then this is one experiment you probably 
won't repeat. I'm sorry about that. I really can't 
accept that concept, nor the one that says someone else 
can spoil your possession by using it. I like to think 
of sex as being clean, natural, good fun, and a nice 
way of becoming closer to somebody else."

"I don't think of sex as being dirty," Roger shot back. 
"But I can't see throwing all sense of decency out the 
window like a... a rutting animal!"

"Calm down, Roger," Marc said. "The trouble is that 
both of you were raised as puritans, where innocence 
and modesty were virtues, and sex is only used as a 
means of procreation. But that's not right, Roger, and 
it never has been. Group sex is fun, too, and joy is as 
moral as procreation. It adds novelty, a beautiful 
experience to your life if you'd let it, without taking 
anything away from your love for each other."

Diane sat dazed, Marc's strong arguments of his and 
Cindy's way of life battling with her own concepts. 
This was wrong, all wrong... or was it? Was his really 
the better way of life? She shook her head, confused. 
So much had happened in so short a time...

"Look, kids," Cindy said mildly. "Think about it. How 
you decide is strictly your business. We're advocating 
one way, because we like it, but it may not be your 
way. At least be familiar with the fact that it 
exists."

Diane, a certain new-found courage seeping into her 
soul, turned to Cindy. "How--I mean, what happened 
to...?" She faltered, unable to speak the question in 
her heart.

"How did I become involved?" Cindy prompted. "I don't 
mind telling you, Diane, because I've learned to be at 
peace with myself and accept the idea of being a woman. 
I was married before, to a man who knew only one 
position of sex and did that one badly all the time. I 
had, to put it mildly, strong sexual conflicts. I 
divorced him, not only because of that, but for all 
sorts of reasons, and then I met Marc. He showed me 
some stag films one night, and we made mad, passionate 
love afterwards. I had been released, really exploding, 
for the first time. I became aware of what sex is all 
about. Later I had the opportunity to watch a couple 
make love. They sucked each other off, and really did 
all the tricks, and you know what? I didn't find it to 
be ugly as my first husband had taught me, I found it 
beautiful."

Diane nodded numbly.

"I can't accept that idea," Roger said primly. He got 
to his feet, his eyes still blazing uncontrollable 
rage. "I think we'd better go, Diane."

"Hey," said Marc. "Take it in the spirit it was given, 
will you? Tell you what. Why don't you two come over 
for dinner tomorrow night?"

"No," Roger said. "That would be... impossible."

Marc shrugged. "The invitation is open. We'd love to 
have you."

"I'm sure," Roger said coldly.

Cord shrugged. "Think about it."

Roger pressed his lips tightly together and took 
Diane's arm and pulled her to her feet.

Quaking with guilt, with physical soreness from Marc's 
drubbing cock, with mental confusion, Diane allowed 
herself to be roughly led toward the sun porch and the 
dressing room inside.


CHAPTER 5
---------

Diane came out of the bathroom and walked into the 
bedroom, wearing her long nylon nightie, her blonde 
hair long and flowing down her back. Roger was lying on 
the bed, his hands clasped behind his head, smoking a 
cigarette. He wore only his jockey shorts.

Diane swallowed into her shame-dried throat as she 
stood just inside the door, looking at him. His eyes 
were on the ceiling. He hadn't looked at her or spoken 
to her since they'd left the Cord home in Peacock Gap 
that afternoon. She had tried to talk to him several 
times, but either he walked away from her or the words 
constricted in her throat before she could get them 
said. She felt total and abject self-abomination at 
what had happened to her with Marc Cord on that sun 
porch couch, what she had willingly allowed herself to 
become. Her cunt still throbbed from the merciless 
buffeting of Cord's gigantic cock, and her breasts were 
swollen and tender from his impassioned manipulations.

His cum is still swishing around inside me, she thought 
sickly, endeavoring to further punish herself for her 
unforgivable transgression. I'm carrying Marc Cord's 
sticky white seeds in my belly right now... I'm nothing 
but a dirty, filthy whore and my soul will surely burn 
forever in the fires of hell for what I've done, for 
the sin I've committed.

Slowly, she walked to the bed and sank onto it, careful 
not to touch her husband. Roger didn't look at her, his 
eyes remained on the ceiling, the cigarette curling 
smoke into the electric-charged air of the room.

Suddenly, Roger asked in a cold, dead voice. "Did you 
like it, Diane?"

The sound of his voice caused her heart to pound 
violently.

"What?"

"The fuck Cord gave you this afternoon?" Roger said. 
"Did you like it?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "Oh Roger, please..."

"Goddamn it!" he faltered. "Did you like it?"

In spite of herself, Diane found her mind returning to 
the episode on the couch, to her wide-spread legs and 
the sight of Cord's huge, blood-engorged penis sawing 
mercilessly back and forth into her widespread vagina. 
Did she like it, did she really? Yes, she thought with 
more personal revulsion. Yes, she had liked it. She had 
liked it enough to achieve her own climax, to cum in 
blinding, crashing waves, to cry out her own 
fulfillment to him and send his flood of milky semen 
surging into her...

The revelation that, truly, she had enjoyed Marc Cord 
sent the tears of humiliation cascading like a salty 
waterfall down over her cheeks. Oh yes, she was the 
vilest adulteress, the foulest harlot, the most 
miserable of all the world's cyprians...

"Well?" Roger asked. "I asked you a question, bitch."

"Oh, God, Roger, darling, don't torture me!"

"You did like it, didn't you?"

"Yes!" she blurted. "Yes, yes, yes!"

"You fucking whore!"

"Yes, I'm a whore!" she cried, throwing herself against 
him and sobbing uncontrollably against his bare chest. 
"Oh God, Roger, yes I am!"

He didn't touch her. "You act like you're proud of the 
fact."

"Nooooo!" she wailed miserably. "Roger, no, please, I'm 
not proud! I'm sick, just sick!"

"You goddamned well ought to be."

She continued to sob against his hirsute chest, her 
nails digging lightly, convulsively, into the skin. 
"Roger... Roger, are you sorry you... did it with Cindy 
Cord?"

"Hell no, I'm not sorry."

The words were like a whip in her brain, a well-
deserved verbal chastisement, and she felt the 
masochistic need to hear more. "Was... was she good for 
you?" Diane asked wretchedly.

"Damn right she was," Roger answered. "She was damned 
good. She was better than you'll ever be!"

"Oh Roger...!"

"She's ten times the fuck you are!"

Her fingers were kneading his flesh spasmodically now, 
and she felt a curious tingling sensation begin in her 
stomach. "Why, darling? Why did you... screw with her?"

"Why?" He laughed scornfully. "Because you're an 
iceberg, that's why! Or at least you're an iceberg with 
me. Maybe with Cord you weren't. Maybe you gave him one 
hell of a ride."

The tingling was spreading, inflaming her loins, and 
she knew it was the beginning of intense arousal. For 
some strange, perverted reason Roger's derisiveness was 
having a sexual effect on her body. She was being 
consumed with lust, slowly, slowly. She wanted her 
husband, wanted his body, wanted his... yes, wanted his 
cock inside her... I want to fuck him, she thought 
suddenly. I want him to fuck me... fuck me... fuck me! 
I'm a whore, aren't I, nothing but a whore, and that's 
what whores want, isn't it? To be fucked... fucked... 
fucked...!

Her hand began to make tiny circular motions on his 
stomach, rubbing gently, teasingly, dipping lower until 
it was just about to the waistband of his jockey 
shorts. He looked down at her hand, not comprehending, 
not understanding at all. "What the hell are you 
doing?"

"Roger," she moaned. "Oh God, Roger, I-I want you!"

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"I want you to... to fuck me!"

"What?" he said again, not believing his ears. "Did you 
say what I thought you said? My own darling, frigid, 
virginal wife. Did I hear you say fuck me?"

"Yes! Oh Roger, yes!"

Her hand moved to the waistband of his shorts now, 
sliding under it. She could feel the wiry bristles of 
his pubic hair, and the touch of him sent ripples of 
sheer lust coursing through her. Her hand went still 
lower, contacting the head of his prick, and she ran 
her fingernail over it tantalizingly. Blood pounded 
through Roger's loins, causing his cock to leap into 
rigid erection, causing it to palpitate achingly under 
her probing fingers. She caressed its turgid length, 
back and forth, back and forth, then tracing downward 
to stroke his rapidly bloating balls, teasing the 
leathery, wrinkled surface of his scrotum.

"Roger!" she moaned, completely abandoning herself to 
her lust, to the newly awakened fires within her; for 
she was awakened, she finally realized, Marc Cord had 
wakened her to the full enjoyment of sex that afternoon 
and she hadn't known it until now... "Roger, don't you 
want to fuck me?"

"Jesus Christ!" he said. His hips had begun to squirm 
on the bed from her ministrations, and he was breathing 
raggedly. "I can't believe this!"

"Don't you, Roger?" she asked, stroking his cock and 
his balls. "Don't you, darling?"

"Yes! Jesus, yes!"

He entwined his fingers in her hair and jerked her head 
up, grinding his mouth down on hers, and her tongue 
flashed into his mouth like a purveyor of liquid fire. 
Christ, was this his wife, was this Diane? She was 
actually hot, she actually wanted him! Their tongues 
curled around one another, burning, flicking back and 
forth, and she drew hers in and out of his mouth in the 
rhythmic attitude of copulation. His hands went to her 
nightie, stroking her body through the thin, wispy 
material. Her fingers on his cock were burning, 
burning, and he reached down as he raised his hips to 
pull the cloth of his shorts away from his blistering, 
fervid loins. His monstrous, trembling penis leapt into 
her hand and she consumed it as if it were something 
she had wanted all her life, but had been forbidden to 
have until that very moment.

"Roger!" she breathed against his mouth. "Roger, make 
me naked! Rip my nightie off, Roger! Now, now, now!"

His hand closed over the neck of the silky garment, 
bunching it in his fingers, then savagely he jerked 
back and downward. There was a whispering, shredding 
sound as it came loose in his hand, as he tore it from 
her taut, hard-nippled breasts and drew it down over 
her pussy, so wet now with the flowing secretions of 
her expanding lust. She helped him by twisting and 
undulating her body, her hand still vibrantly rubbing 
his genitals, her mouth still fused hotly with his. And 
then she was completely nude, and his hands were on her 
breasts, kneading and manipulating her hardening 
nipples until she mewled with pleasure deep in her 
throat. Then his hand was moving down, down over her 
stomach, through the soft golden fleece of her pubic 
hair, finally touching the erect, pulsing shaft of the 
miniature phallus that was her clitoris. She whimpered 
in unrestrained pleasure as he massaged the tiny, 
trembling bud between his thumb and forefinger. Her 
loins began to grind down into the sheets of the bed in 
wild, uncontrol
led counterpoint to his fingering movements down 
between her legs. Her head flailed from side to side, 
the sensations so intense within her that fresh new 
mewls of lust and excitement erupted from her throat.

Diane continued to enfold his granite-hard cock, 
drawing the foreskin back and forth, tickling the 
blood-swollen vein on its underside. She felt every 
ridge, every muscle, every vein in its immense expanse. 
But she wanted to know it better, to learn each and 
every inch of it, to know it as well as she knew 
herself; she was completely lost now in the building 
passion which she had allowed to take control of her 
body, which Roger's teasing fingers were further 
enhancing.

I want to suck it, she thought then as she stroked him. 
I want to suck his big, hard prick, I want to feel it 
in my mouth, I want to know what it's like to suck my 
husband and really enjoy it, not like last night on the 
kitchen floor but really and truly enjoy it...

"Darling!" she breathed against his mouth. "Darling, I 
want to suck your cock! Please, darling, I want to suck 
it!"

Tremors of lewd desire ran rampant through Roger's 
flesh. This was what he had always dreamed of! This was 
what he had always wanted, but never thought he would 
achieve! She was literally begging him to allow her to 
suck his cock! She wanted it, wanted his penis, wanted 
his body, wanted him!

"Yes!" he crooned. "Oh Jesus, yes, baby, yes!"

Her mouth left his and began to trail down along his 
chest, pausing to nip gently at the erectness of his 
nipples, marveling that male teats reacted under 
extreme arousal much as those of a female, and then 
moving down along his belly. She let her tongue flick 
into the tiny, puckered opening of his navel, felt him 
twist and jerk beneath her head and his hand continue 
to oscillate her swollen clitoris back and forth. 

Then she was poised above the hot, hard length of his 
cock. Her eyes were open wide and she stared at the 
thin sheen of lubricating fluid which dribbled from the 
small opening in the glans, to flow down along the 
shaft and cause it to shine moistly in the pale light 
from the nightstand lamp. She kept staring at it, as if 
hypnotized by that unseeing eye, the purplish-red, 
palpitating monster which she had cradled in her hand.

It seemed to sway before her face, like a charmed 
cobra, urging her mutely to come closer, come nearer. 
She obeyed. Her lips were only a scant inch from the 
moist, drooling head, half an inch, and then her tongue 
came out with agonizing slowness and touched the 
rubbery glans, touched it and began to swirl around the 
opening, lapping up all the thick, sticky fluid. 

Diane's brain reeled from the electric touch of her 
tongue on his penis, from the salty, not unpleasant 
taste of his semen. It was good, good, good. She hadn't 
dreamed it would be this good! She opened her mouth 
wider and took the head inside the butter-soft 
interior, swirling her tongue faster and faster now 
over the dripping glans, causing Roger to cry out in 
pure delight.

"Oh Jesus, Jesus, baby, that's it! Oh Christ, that's 
ittttt!" he wailed, wrapping his hands in her hair and 
pushing her head down on him, making her take more of 
his rigid column into her gently nibbling mouth.

She massaged the soft resilient skin of his testicles 
tantalizingly with one hand, and her thumb and 
forefinger were stroking the mighty base of his cock. 
She was sucking rhythmically up and down now, twirling 
the softness of her tongue maddeningly around it at the 
apex of the withdrawal, the tip flicking across the 
tiny split in the glans. Roger flexed his buttocks, 
moaning, looking down at the crown of her head bobbing 
up and down above his loins as she simultaneously 
worked her buttocks in tight, undulating circles. He 
imagined the pink fleshy lips being pulled out 
grotesquely, clinging to his thick cock as she sucked 
voraciously, her feverish mind churning with the 
delicious lewdness of the act.

Roger felt her naked breasts flex and dance in his 
belly, and he knew he was going to cum before very much 
longer. He could feel the surging, boiling activity in 
his balls, the impending eruption of his churning 
sperm. God, she was... she was incredible! Even Cindy 
Cord hadn't been this good yesterday, when she had 
sucked him by the pool! He had never known it could be 
like this!

"Baby...!" he panted. "Baby, I want to... fuck you 
now... got to fuck you now... come on, baby, let me 
fuck you..."

She ceased her maddening licking of his cock, stopped 
the delicious gentle digging of the tips of her teeth 
into the hard resisting flesh. Almost reluctantly, she 
released his cock, let it slide from her mouth trailing 
a thin strand of lubrication with her wet, glistening 
lips as they pulled away. She turned her face up to 
him, her eyes burning with lust and desire and... yes, 
with love, too, he could see that. She rolled over onto 
her back, with her legs pulled up, knees to her 
breasts, and spread widely, lewdly, exposing the pink, 
passion soaked petals of her vagina to his eyes.

Roger rolled over, poised over her. He had to fuck her, 
and he had to fuck her now; if he didn't he was not 
only going to blow his wad, he was going to blow his 
goddamned mind!

"Take it in your hand, baby," he whispered fervently. 
"Take my big cock in your hand and shove it up that 
tight little cunt of yours where Marc Cord's was this 
afternoon! Do it now, baby! Put it in, put it in!"

Her hand slipped down as she tossed and flung her body 
on the sweat-soaked bed and encircled his thick 
throbbing cock in her small fingers. She spread her 
legs and thighs ever wider apart as her fingers dug 
into the moist, slick surface of his shaft; and then 
she was guiding his prick toward the small, juicy hole 
of her vagina, using its bulbous, purplish head to part 
the pubic hair and full, fleshy lips of her cunt.

She gasped aloud at the sudden electrifying contact of 
the rubbery glans against the damp, sensitive flesh. 
Roger flicked his hips slightly forward, and Diane felt 
a sharp little pain from the stretching pressure of his 
member at the tight entrance of her vaginal orifice.

"Ohhhhh!" she cried. "Aaaaaaaggggghhhh!"

He pushed forward again as the gigantic crest forced 
its way into the tightly clenched elastic opening. Her 
hips flew up to meet his thrust, burying almost the 
full length of his tumescent rod in the folds of her 
cunt, sending it racing along the lubricated passage 
and into her belly until she felt his heavy, sperm-
bloated balls smack solidly against the upturned cheeks 
of satin-soft ass.

"Ohhhhhh, Roger, ROGER!" she wailed beneath him as he 
flexed his cock deep inside the tight flesh of her 
vaginal sheath, lurching the thick shaft another 
fraction of an inch deeper into her, then repeated the 
motion again, and again, each time raising moans of 
pain and joy from deep inside Diane. Soon, her vaginal 
slit became accustomed to his monstrous size, and the 
pain abated and there was nothing for her but joy, joy 
for the first time from the plunging cock of her 
husband, the man she loved.

Roger began a slow revolving motion with his pelvis, 
grinding his cock tightly into her naked crotch, 
expanding the walls of her pussy even more.

"Fuck me, Roger, fuck me, FUCK ME!!" she heard herself 
cry out, and the obscene words from her own lips caused 
her flailing buttocks to rotate even more insanely, to 
demand even harder thrusts from her husband's churning 
loins. He rocked above her, using short, smooth 
strokes, and her body reacted in kind, chills of 
excitement and rapture spiraling the full length of her 
spine as she felt the tempo of his heavy, burgeoning 
cock burrow into her throbbing cunt.

Quickly, he increased his pace and the length of his 
stroke, knowing he couldn't last much longer, feeling 
the volcano that was his balls almost brimming over. 
Diane raised her widespread loins up to him in 
simultaneous rhythm to his every downward thrust as her 
passion-contorted face twisted wantonly with her 
desire.

Now Roger was slamming into her with demoniacal force, 
drawing his heavy cock nearly out of the tight, moist 
sheath clasping at it hungrily, then plunging down 
again until his swollen balls slapped ruthlessly 
against the exposed, puckered ring of her asshole. The 
pressure was mounting, mounting, in his billowing sac, 
and his head swam wildly with the impending knowledge 
of his cumming. He had never known a fucking like this, 
never, never, never! Oh God, she was beyond his wildest 
fantasies!

Diane began to toss her head in frenzied, abandoned 
ecstasy, impaled on his rock-hard shaft, and rapturous 
little moans bubbled past her lips. She was so wild she 
was going to go out of her mind, she knew it, she knew 
it! She sucked at his tongue, buried half into her 
throat now, trying to milk it as her pussy was trying 
to milk his pistoning cock, and her legs raised even 
higher to receive his thundering manhood.

"I-I'm almost there, darling!" Roger shouted in 
mindless ecstasy then, and she gurgled her agreement, 
her encouragement, her need around his tongue. She was 
almost there herself. She wanted to cum with him, co-
mingle his juices with Marc's in her belly until she 
was consumed by nothing but lust-fire from within.

Roger increased his pace even more, deepening his 
thrust as she writhed wildly beneath him, grinding up 
and down his cock with incredible fury, her legs 
twitching, her toes curling as she lurched her legs 
wide and upwards. He knew by this that she was near 
orgasm, and he pounded, pounded, reveling the wet, 
slurping sounds which came to his ears from his pile-
driving cock in her eagerly sucking cunt. He pressed 
his hands behind her knees and thrust them back hard 
against her breasts, until her head was framed between 
them, bringing the tableau of her magnificent crotch 
higher and wider open to his brutal plunges.

"Ohhhhh, ohhhhh, yes!" Diane chanted under him as she 
felt her orgasm climbing to the very pinnacle. Her 
passion-contorted features were like a gargoyle 
caricature of her normally soft, innocent beauty.

Roger ground his cock hard and deep, faster, faster, 
into the tender sanctuary of her womb. He watched her 
breasts heave and quiver as a result of his pummeling, 
even saw their tiny nipples expand before his very eyes 
as she tossed her head wildly, crazily from side to 
side. And then she convulsed beneath him, her mouth 
opening wide around his penetrating tongue, and a cry 
of animal delight, of pagan rapture, tore from the core 
of her being.

"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHH!"

As he continued to hammer into her, Roger felt her cunt 
walls secrete their warm gushes of wet sticky fluid 
around his plundering cock, inundating his shaft and 
his balls. She was cumming like he was sure she did 
with Marc Cord this afternoon! With renewed urgency, he 
thrust faster, deeper, with all the strength he 
possessed. 

He felt her jerk, lurch, spasm wildly, the mouth of her 
cunt sucking at him feverishly, her breath spewing 
against his face in short, ragged gasps. And then he 
sensed his own hot, churning sperm race the length of 
his prick in incredible ecstasy, causing his body to 
tremble with palsied motion as his juices spurted from 
the opening in his cock far, deep, far, deep into her 
violently quivering recesses... it was a never-ending 
flow which caused her to moan in spasmodic, 
indecipherable cries of delight as her belly quaked 
with the unleashed pool of delectation he had emptied 
into her.

A long time later, an eternity later, the torrent ended 
and her own body relaxed. She let her legs fall limp 
around Roger as he collapsed forward on her, and her 
heart roared and pounded like the mighty crash of surf 
in her chest. Dear God, she had never known anything 
that good existed on the face of this earth! And she 
had thought she had been sexually awakened with Marc 
Cord! But that had only been the beginning, only the 
first unbinding of her physically chained body, for 
now, with the man she loved, with her husband Roger, 
she had experienced rapture beyond all mortal 
expectancy. Never, never, never had she ever in her 
wildest dreams thought sex would be this good, this 
wonderful!

After a while, Roger lifted his head and gazed into 
Diane's eyes. His own eyes were moist, and filled with 
satiation, with exhaustion, with... yes, with love. 
"Diane," he began, swallowing, "Oh God, darling, that 
was... that was beyond belief!"

She kissed him gently, nibbling at his lower lip. "Was 
it better than with... with Cindy Cord?" she inquired 
softly.

"God, yes! Oh Jesus Christ, you don't even have to 
ask!"

She kissed him again. "You were better than Marc Cord, 
darling," she said. "Much, much better."

"Do you mean that?"

"Oh yes, I mean it." She moved her hand down along the 
sweat-slick surface of his buttocks to dip between them 
and gently rub the soft, resilient skin of his deflated 
balls.

"Diane... I love you, I really love you!" Roger 
blurted. "I'm sorry for... for what happened last 
night, and for what happened with Cindy."

"Shhhh," she told him. "Don't be sorry, Roger. Don't 
be. I'm glad it all happened. Up until just now, I... 
hated myself, but not now, not now. I'm glad I let Marc 
Cord fuck me and plant his seed deep inside me!"

"Y-you are?"

"Yes, dear," Diane said. "Don't you see? Somehow, 
letting a strange man touch me, use my body, shoot in 
me, awakened all the desires which I had unwittingly 
kept repressed so long inside me."

"Something I couldn't do," Roger said, with a trace of 
bitterness. "Something your own husband couldn't 
accomplish in two years of marriage and love-making."

"No, no, darling, that isn't it at all," Diane said. 
"It didn't have anything to do with you. What it was 
was me. I'd lived with my puritanical moral upbringing 
so long that I just couldn't change when I married, 
when it became all right for me to experience sexual 
desires. I still couldn't bring myself to let go. It 
took an affair, a morally forbidden affair, a lewd 
fucking with a man I hardly knew to open up this whole 
new wonderful world for me."

Roger considered her words for a moment, and then he 
kissed the soft, smooth column of her throat tenderly. 
"Then... I'm glad we went over to the Cords today, 
Diane. I'm glad because the only thing that's kept our 
marriage from being perfect was your... your..."

"Frigidity?" Diane whispered. "You can say it now, 
Roger, because that's just what it was. I understand 
that... and I'm ashamed of it, of the torment I must 
have put you through these past two years, all the 
while blaming you because I thought you were too 
demanding."

They lay in silence for a long while, with Roger's now 
limp prick draining lovingly into Diane's satiated, 
warmly moist cunt. He made no move to rise from her 
body, and she made no move to push him off; they were 
together, for the first time, together. Finally, Roger 
said, "Diane?"

"Yes, darling?"

"About what Marc and Cindy said today? About... well, 
hell, about wife swapping. What do you think about it?"

"I don't know, darling. This one time, today, was good 
because of what it did for me, for us. But anything 
more than that..." She let her voice trail off as she 
thought about it.

"I was just wondering," Roger said, "if maybe our whole 
perspective wouldn't benefit by... by taking them up on 
their offer. I mean, if just one afternoon of swapping 
has given us the loving we just had, is it possible 
that continued swapping will make it even better for 
you and me in the future, even wilder than what we just 
had?"

"I-I'm not sure," Diane replied. "You might be right. I 
know I'm... well, I'm still attracted to Marc Cord and 
I-I guess I wouldn't mind him fucking me again." She 
felt little salacious thrills spin along the flesh of 
her inner thighs at the thought of Cord's huge, rock-
hard cock. "I couldn't possibly feel the same about him 
as I feel about you, of course, darling. But still..." 
Again, she let her voice trail off.

"Yes," Roger said, "I know what you mean. After the 
fuck we just had together, there's no other woman who 
could satisfy me any better. But I'm damned if I 
wouldn't like to get into Cindy Cord's pants again."

Diane kissed his eyes, his mouth. "Do you... think we 
ought to take them up on their offer?" she asked 
softly. "About seeing them again tomorrow night, I 
mean?"

Roger pondered it. "Suppose we think about it," he 
said.

"There'll be time enough to decide tomorrow."

"All right." Diane moved her hips seductively on the 
bed, her fingernails tracing little prickles of delight 
along his buttocks. In response, she felt his cock 
begin to stir from its flaccid rest in the warm, moist, 
fleshy walls of her cunt. "You're getting another hard-
on, darling," she teased.

"Well, so I am."

"Shall we?"

He let his tongue flick along her lips and then burrow 
inside her mouth. He retracted it just enough to say, 
"Goddamned right we shall!"

***

In the office the next morning, Roger couldn't seem to 
concentrate. His mind kept reverting back to the events 
of last night, to the three glorious hours of love 
making he and Diane had had before finally falling 
asleep entwined in each other's arms.

Jesus, he thought as he sat at his desk, the columns of 
figures in the open ledger before him blurring 
together, who would have thought last week, even 
yesterday morning, that my prudish little wife would 
turn into one of the wildest fucks ever imaginable? She 
damned near tore me apart last night. I'd never say so 
to his face, but I guess I've got Cord to thank for 
finally snapping the ties that bound her sexually. From 
here on in, things are going to be just great, what 
I've always dreamed of...

He tried to read the figures before him again, and then 
threw his pencil down in futility. It was no use; he 
couldn't get with it today. He leaned back in his 
chair, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. Suddenly 
and unaccountably, he found himself thinking about 
Cindy Cord.

She was one hell of a fuck in her own right, that's for 
sure, he thought. I wouldn't mind putting it to her 
again, even if Diane has finally emancipated herself. 
Hell, I've sort of discovered my own virility, too. No 
more quiet, staid, ultra-conservative Roger Slater; now 
it's Roger Slater, the swinger, Roger Slater, the 
cocksman. Yeah, what was it Cord said to me that night 
in the Pig and Whistle? "Play the modern role," that 
was it. Well, that's just exactly what I'm going to do 
from now on. I'm going to play the modern role, all 
right.

The telephone rang.

Roger picked up the receiver, said hello. And as if 
sensing the thoughts he was thinking, Cindy Cord's 
husky voice breathed into his ear, "Hello, lover. How's 
my handsome lover man this morning?"

He blinked. "Cindy?" He started to ask her why she had 
called him, but the tone of her voice made that plain. 
And he was Roger Slater, the swinger, now wasn't he? He 
said, "I was just thinking about you."

She laughed musically. "Were you? Well, that's nice to 
hear. And what were you thinking about me?"

"That you're a damned desirable woman."

"Oh? It seems your attitude has changed since you left 
yesterday, Roger honey."

"I've done a lot of thinking, all right."

"I'm glad to hear that." Cindy paused, and then purred, 
"Will you and Diane be coming over tonight? The 
invitation is still open."

"I'm still considering it."

"You do want to fuck me again, don't you Roger?" she 
teased candidly. "You do want to put that lovely big 
cock of yours into my hot, juicy cunt, don't you?"

Roger felt fire beginning to leap in his loins. Jesus, 
she was a wanton little bitch! "I wouldn't mind it," he 
managed to say coolly.

Cindy laughed again. "I'll suck you off again," she 
said. "Until you cum this time, Roger. Until you squirt 
gallons and gallons of your hot, sticky sperm into my 
mouth. Would you like that, Roger?"

"Christ!" he said, feeling some of the suaveness slip 
away from him. His cock was rigid in his pants now; her 
words were like a caressing hand on his vitals.

"You will be over tonight, won't you Roger?"

"Yes! I'll be over tonight. I'll be over, and I'll fuck 
your cunt and I'll fuck your mouth and maybe I'll even 
fuck your asshole."

"Ooooooohhhhh!" she giggled. "I can hardly wait!"

After they had hung up, Roger sat there staring at the 
phone, feeling the aching pangs of desire surging 
through his erect penis. She could hardly wait? Holy 
Christ, if he didn't cum in his pants before he ever 
got there, he would be damned lucky!

***

Diane was vacuuming the living room when the phone rang 
that morning. She pushed her blonde hair out of her 
eyes, switched off the vacuum cleaner, and went into 
the kitchen to answer it.

Marc Cord's voice said smoothly, "Good morning, Diane."

She felt a small tingle race through her. "Why... 
hello, Marc. This is a surprise. You're the last person 
I would have expected to call."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Didn't you see Roger this morning?"

"Why, yes I did," Cord answered. "We had a nice little 
chat, as a matter of fact. He's no longer... shall we 
say, uptight about yesterday."

"I know," Diane said. She moistened her lips. "But if 
you saw Roger, then you know he's not here. Why did you 
call, Marc?"

"To talk to you, of course."

"Why would you want to talk to me?"

"To find out if you two will be coming over tonight."

"Didn't you ask Roger?"

"When I saw him, he said he was still thinking about 
it,"

Cord told her. "I was wondering what you thought."

Diane felt very wicked, teasing. Last night had been so 
wonderful, so beyond all her previous conceptions of 
physical fulfillment. She was a new woman now, there 
was simply no denying that fact, and her freshly-
discovered sexual freedom gave her a certain sense of 
power, of lustiness. Yes, she was a new woman, a happy 
one for the first time in her married life, and she was 
really going to enjoy herself.

She said, "I don't know about tonight, Marc. If we do 
come over, what will happen?"

"What do you want to happen, Diane?"

"Why, nothing especially."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know what you mean, Marc," she said, knowing 
full well what he meant. She could feel her vagina 
begin to secrete droplets of fluid down between her 
legs as lewd thoughts traveled through her brain. In 
her mind's eye she saw Cord's huge prick again, saw it 
up close as she had seen Roger's last night, with its 
unseeing eye staring at her, drooling.

Cord's breathing came a little faster over the wire.

"Diane," he whispered, "Diane, I'd like t-to fuck you 
again. Like I did yesterday."

She was silent for a long, dramatic moment. And then 
she said softly, "Would you, Marc?"

"Yes, damn it!"

"Well, I'll have to think about it," she breathed.

"Diane..."

"Good-bye, Marc," she said, and hung up.

She stood there with her eyes closed, the juices of her 
desire soaking the thin, filmy material of her panties. 
God, talking to Marc had made her hot! She wanted him 
again, all right, and unless she was very much mistaken 
Roger wanted Cindy again, too. She knew what her 
husband would say when he came home from work and they 
discussed the Cords again; he would want to go back 
over to Peacock Gap tonight as much as she did.

Diane's cunt ached with a throbbing intensity now, as 
she once more thought about Marc Cord's fleshy pile-
driving rod and muscled, bronzed body. She let her 
hands stray down the sides of her body, all the way to 
her thighs, and then pushed up the short hem of her 
housedress. She held it bunched at her waist with one 
hand, while the other moved with tantalizing slowness 
to explore the wet, sticky surface of her silk-encased 
vagina. She allowed one finger to slide inside the 
elastic leg band of her panties to touch the wet, 
palpitating folds of her petal-like cunt lips and then 
to slip inside the soft, warm slit with maddening 
slowness. Paroxysms of utter joy flooded her body as 
she stood there, manipulating her pussy and thinking 
about Marc Cord. Damn, she could scarcely wait until 
tonight!


CHAPTER 6
---------

The evening breeze was cool and crisp, blowing through 
the car's open window to refresh Diane. She sat close 
to Roger, looking lovingly at him, and he smiled warmly 
back at her. She turned to peer into the night's 
darkness ahead, taking a hand to brush the silken 
strands of her blonde hair from her eyes. She felt 
nervous, but yet tantalizingly exited, for tonight was 
an important one to her. Yes, and to Roger as well.

Last night, with Marc and then her husband later, had 
been the beginning, the turning point in her otherwise 
fruitless existence. At last she felt the emergence of 
the real woman who had been so long buried beneath the 
layers of false modesty and Victorian prudery. She was 
no longer her mother's daughter--she was full, rich, 
red-blooded, alive.

But tonight was still another major step for her, and 
as Roger neared the Peacock Gap house of Marc and Cindy 
Cord, she realized that by accepting the dinner 
invitation, she was going to lose the last vestiges of 
her inhibitions and become devoured in the enveloping 
warmth of lust for the sake of lust alone. Tonight she 
was going to actively, openly participate in group sex; 
there was no denying it. She was going to exchange 
mates, to be yet another convert to the cult of wife-
swapping. Wife-swapping: a horrid, indecent, disgusting 
word which brought lip curls of contempt from the lips 
of decent people. Wife-swapping. She mouthed the word, 
letting it roll around on her tongue like a bittersweet 
candy. 

It was exciting, and brought a delicious tingle to 
Diane as she mulled over what this evening was to 
bring. Yes, yes, tonight would bring Marc Cord and his 
overwhelming, lovely cock and his masterful ways of 
love-making. Yes, she wanted Marc, she wanted to be 
swapped for him, she wanted him to fuck her... 
lubricating fluids began to seep from her soft, warm 
vagina and she pressed her legs together, not wanting 
to make her excitement obvious to Roger.

"Diane," Roger suddenly said, "Diane... I love you."

She turned away from the window and stared at her 
husband.

"I know you do, darling," she replied softly, "And I 
love you, too."

"I-I want you to know that before... well, before we 
get involved tonight." He seemed to swallow a lump in 
his throat. "I don't want you to misunderstand if... 
if... well, you know."

Diane smiled understandingly. "I know," she said. "And 
you won't make me have a double standard, I know that, 
too."

Roger was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded. "If 
that's how it's got to be for you to become a woman, to 
respond sexually to me, then so be it." He smiled at 
her and winked. "After last night I can say that my 
wife possesses more hidden talent in bed than any other 
woman I've ever known."

"Or will know?" Diane, suddenly flooded with desire and 
affection, nestled her hand on his inner thigh.

"Or... will know."

Diane began to stroke his thigh in light, caressing 
motions.

A moan of pleasure escaped from deep within Roger's 
chest and he stared down at her polished fingernails 
and the path they traced on his trousers. Diane edged 
farther along his inner thigh, and he spread his legs 
slightly to allow her access to his crotch. She smiled, 
a sudden rush of prurient sensation rippling through 
her.

"Oh God, baby, you drive me wild!" Roger groaned, 
involuntarily jerking forward so that she touched the 
already rigid outline of his penis. "Oh, Jesus, I wish 
you'd always been like this."

"Don't worry, darling. From now on I will be." Diane 
stroked his swelling cock through the pants, feeling 
the long, turgid shank expand and press against the 
binding cloth. She rubbed harder, as though she were 
trying to polish it, and Roger panted excitedly. "I'm 
going to crash the car, for Christ's sake, if you don't 
stop!"

"You want me to stop?"

"No, no, don't stop!"

Diane fumbled with his zipper and slowly lowered it, 
then reached in and tugged the band of his shorts, 
insinuating her fingers inside. His flesh was hot, his 
pubic hair like coarse sandpaper, his rod eagerly 
awaiting the touch of her fingertips. It jumped 
convulsively when she scratched the bulbous head with 
one long nail. Diane almost couldn't believe such a 
wanton action... it was so unlike her previous self. To 
be feeling Roger's cock in a car! Why... last week, she 
hated the very sight of it in the bedroom, much besides 
reveling at its touch.

"You'd better zip me up, Diane," Roger advised, "We're 
almost at the Cords'."

But she played with him teasingly until they were on 
the macadam driveway, and she laughed as he made a 
bumbling attempt to zip himself closed before opening 
the car door.

Marc and Cindy were waiting at the open front door. 
There were the usual greetings, but as the door closed 
Marc suddenly took hold of Diane and pressed her close 
to him. In full view of his wife and her husband, he 
kissed Diane passionately, the way a lover kisses his 
mistress. There was no question in anybody's mind after 
that what the evening's entertainment would consist of-
-if indeed there had been any to begin with.

The dinner, served after two rounds of drinks, was 
delectable. Cindy was a marvelous cook, and had worked 
hard to be the gracious hostess, serving hors 
d'oeuvres, with the drinks, and then shrimp cocktails, 
Caesar salad, and the main course of rock Cornish game 
hen, roasted plain in the fashionable way, wild rice, 
Brussels sprouts and cauliflower rosettes.

The dessert of cheese and fruit was served buffet style 
in the living room. Marc excused himself only to return 
a few moments later with four glasses of a chilled 
magnum of Mumm's champagne.

"What's that for?" Diane asked.

"A celebration," Cord said jovially, unwrapping the 
foil crown and pressing the cork with his thumb. "A 
celebration of your husband's promotion to General 
Office Manager of my section of Waller, Waller, Crist 
and Maxwell -- as of Monday."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Diane squealed--just as the 
cork popped and shot across the room.

"How come?" Roger asked, grinning boyishly. "I 
thought..."

"I talked to some people and we decided you should be 
trained before Drake retires. So, as of Monday, you'll 
be with me. Like it?"

"Of course!" Roger accepted the offered crystal glass 
of champagne and drank. Cindy sidled up to him and 
kissed him lightly on his cheek, saying, "Wonderful, 
Roger. I'm thrilled for you."

Diane turned to Cord, the bubbly effervescence of the 
champagne giving her the fortification to block her 
natural modesty.

"You like champagne?" he asked.

"I... like the feeling it gives." She smiled at Cord, 
marveling at her ease, catching the appreciative look 
he gave the full length of her body. She could feel the 
throb of desire in her loins as he mentally undressed 
her, and she had to admit she was actually looking 
forward to making love with him again. She was willing 
and anxious, and the champagne flowed coolly down her 
heated throat. Cord quickly poured her another glass, 
sensing her rising passion as the time drew nearer.

"You were wonderful yesterday," Marc whispered in her 
ear, nuzzling gently her hair and lobe. "I'm more than 
happy you decided to return tonight for... Round Two."

"So am I," Diane responded. "I guess I was... pretty 
shy.

It was my first time."

"I know." Marc smiled and took the glass from her hand 
and set it on the table. Then, his arms pulled her to 
him and his lips came moistly down on hers, his tongue 
darting wetly into her mouth. She sucked on it gently, 
allowing her body to melt against his, and she trembled 
from the excitement of this man's kiss. All hints of 
her slight previous nervousness disappeared, and she 
pressed her lips tighter to his mouth, feeling the 
hardening of his great cock where he rubbed into the 
softness of her stomach. He was getting an erection, 
and she felt her own muscles constrict and her breasts 
begin tingling.

They pulled apart slightly, catching their breaths, and 
she looked across to the brocade couch which faced away 
from them. Roger was embracing Cindy there, and the 
woman was wrapping her arms tightly around him, urging 
him on with tiny feminine mewls of delight. Cord saw 
Diane looking at the other couple and said, "They seem 
to have things under control."

"Mmmm," Diane, sighed, returning to his embrace, "And 
so do we."

"Christ, I want to fuck you!" Cord whispered, suddenly, 
fervently. "And I want to do it here, right now!"

Diane remembered the lewd, obscene spectacle of the two 
of them on the tweed couch yesterday, and hoped she 
would lose herself in the same wild, frenzied passion 
as she had then. The thought of being loved by Marc 
there, in the living room, in full view of her own 
husband excited her perversely, hotly.

"I'm ready!" she urged. "Oh, Marc... yes... fuck me!"

The word strangely accentuated the situation, and it 
was a feeling she welcomed wantonly. She reached down 
and boldly stroked his enlarged, steel cock through his 
trousers, feeling more wicked than she ever had felt 
before in her life. The tingling in her breasts spread 
to her groin and enveloped her thighs.

"Strip!" Cord commanded, unable to wait any longer. 
"Get naked!" Diane took one last look at her husband, 
who was now out of sight on the couch cushions, the 
back of the brocade furnishing a screen to the actions 
of love-making she knew was happening there. Then she 
reached behind her and slid the zipper of her green 
dress down from neck to her buttocks. She lifted her 
arms and the dress dropped to the floor, puddling 
around her feet. She stepped out of it, just as Marc 
unhooked her brassiere; the bra dropped to the dress, 
and the cool evening air made the red teats of her 
breasts harden like concrete chips.

Cord reached for her, the touch of his hands on her 
naked shoulders causing her to jump involuntarily. The 
realization that she stood near nude while her husband 
was busy nearby with another woman fanned the lust 
which was burning in her thighs, and the thought that 
she would soon be writhing on the floor with a strange 
man she hardly knew pumping between her open legs added 
to the forbidden thrill.

She stripped her panties down over the satiny fullness 
of her thighs and buttocks and added them to the puddle 
of dress and brassiere. Cord lowered his head to her 
breast, suckling the tiny, throbbing nipple deep into 
his mouth. Diane moaned and swayed, almost falling.

"No, no, not yet, Marc!" she panted. "I have my 
stockings and heels on."

"Leave them on. I want you like that."

She slipped to the floor, using the clothing there as 
she had been forced to use the torn dress on the 
kitchen floor with Roger as a towel against the 
surface. The rug was thick, though, a deep-pile buff-
colored shag, and was almost as soft and comfortable as 
a bed. She stretched out luxuriously, widening her legs 
to show Marc the full, enticing view of her warm, moist 
cunt. She was alive! She rubbed her hands along her 
sides and dipped a finger provocatively into the pink-
tinged valley of her vagina, spreading the moistened, 
pulsating lips of the channel in preview of the 
impending lust-fulfilling fuck he knew he was going to 
give her.

"Hurry, hurry!" she moaned loudly then. "I want you!" 
She made no attempt to keep her voice down, wanting 
Roger and Cindy to hear her... to hear the two of them 
as they fucked there on the floor. She waited as Cord 
shed his clothes like a demon possessed and then 
lowered his nakedness down to her.

"Oh God, Diane, I want to fuck you! I'm going to fuck 
you until you can't walk!" he hissed between clenched 
teeth.

She moaned with the thrill of Marc's touch, the 
sensations of desire boiling through her pussy like 
molten lava. Her whole cunt was ready to erupt like 
Vesuvius! "Oh fuck me, fuck me, Marc!" she cried out, 
"I need you, I need you!" She knew her husband had 
heard her that time, and she didn't care, didn't care 
about anything.

Cord's moist lips started a nibbling motion along her 
shoulder and neck, sending quivers of goosepimples 
racing over her body. She writhed uncontrollably 
beneath his lips and dropped her hand back to his now 
unclothed cock, grasping the erect member brutally in 
her hands. She heard him groan as she slid the foreskin 
back over its engorged head, and rolled the loose flesh 
around its base. He dipped back to her breasts, his 
mouth playing wildly with her nipples and aureoles, his 
tongue trailing wetly through the rich valley of flesh 
between the throbbing tits as he alternated his 
attention between them.

Then he went lower, moving his body around so that she 
could still manipulate his penis, but so that he was 
able to bathe her belly and inner thighs with his 
enriching tongue. He ground the tip into her navel, 
bringing soft moans of pleasure from Diane's lust-
contorted lips and gasps of maddening sensations from 
her throat. He licked still lower, and Diane felt her 
groin flower to the pattern of indecent nippings, and 
then she stretched her legs upwards and back against 
her breasts as he hunched over her naked cunt and 
spread the dew-moistened lips with his fingers. His 
tongue circled around her inner thighs and buttocks and 
then plunged hotly into the pink, wet flesh of her 
pussy.

"Ooohhh!" she groaned gutturally. "That's what I like! 
Yes, yes, YES! Don't stop! Don't stop!"

She chanted the words blindly, her breasts mashed 
against her upthrust legs. She put her hands to her 
smooth, slick cheeks and spread her cunt open further 
to his oral ministrations, and he in turn pulled the 
exposed crevice closer to his groveling mouth. His 
tongue flickered against the diamond bud of her enraged 
clitoris, causing it to quiver with expectancy. Then he 
stabbed snake-like against the gushing walls of her 
sensitive, throbbing pussy.

Diane raised herself up on her elbows and watched down 
between her breasts in complete captivation as Marc 
nestled his mouth into the hollow of her open cunt. She 
shuddered from his soft lickings on her tender skin and 
in her wet creases, and felt his hot puffs of breath. 
She pumped in the rhythm of copulation as his magic 
tongue kissed her from the bottom to the top of her 
vaginal damp slit. She rolled her head back, slowly 
tossing it from side to side as the delicious contact 
continued. Cord was gasping as Diane ministered to his 
massive cock, and he in turn jerked his thighs as 
though he was fucking her stroking hand. But not once 
did he alter or break the lashing contact of his eager 
mouth, tongue and lips. Even his nose was immersed in 
her steaming slit, the nostrils flaring excitedly at 
the odor of pussy and flowing juices.

He dipped to kiss the wrinkled ring of her anus, and 
Diane was fairly shrieking with delight at the 
forbidden act. He thrust the hard tip of his tongue 
into her asshole, feeling its rubbery opening give and 
stretch before his invading tongue. Then he moved one 
of his hands from her firm ass cheeks, poising it 
before the quivering hole, and his mouth returned to 
her clitoris; as it did, he pressed his middle finger 
into her rectal passage, sinking it to the first 
knuckle brutally.

"Aggggghhhhh! It hurts!" Diane cried out, delirious 
with masochistic pain-joy at the ravagement. "It hurts 
so much!"

He wriggled his finger, extending it to the second 
knuckle.

"Ohhhh! Ohhh! I can't stand it!" she screamed. "It's 
too much! Too much!"

Cord did not remove his invading digit. He continued to 
move it around as he thrust his tongue deep inside her 
vagina until her voice died in a strangled mixture of 
sob and sigh and then broke again in a high-pitched 
wail as her passion overflowed her loins. She twisted 
in his double grip, writhing in sweet agony. Marc's 
lips and finger caused a crackling thunder of sweeping 
emotions to surge through her body. She gasped and 
groaned, a burning wildness taking hold of her as she 
lay impaled upon tongue and finger. She rotated her 
buttocks abandonedly, the ecstasy probing through her 
loins and swirling through her naked flesh. God, oh 
Jesus! There was nothing else in the world except the 
enervating convulsions of her naked cunt!

Cord thrust his tongue deeper, working faster and 
faster as he heard her approach her climax. He plunged 
every inch of his huge tongue into her willing cunt, 
tasting its slightly acid secretions, licking the 
swollen cunt lips, kissing the trembling inner thighs. 
She was a hot little bitch, he thought, and he had 
waited for his chance and found it well worthwhile. He 
flicked his tongue and worked his finger faster and 
deeper into her ever-expanding holes, and her body 
shuddered beneath him, her thighs opening and closing 
spasmodically.

"Dear God...!" Diane convulsed, her head flailing 
wildly as she tensed her back in an arch. Her neck 
muscles stood out like tendons, and her face screwed 
into a contorted mask as a low, animalistic growl began 
to build within her. She was almost there... almost on 
the brink.

"Oh God, I can't take it... That's enough! Oh stop, oh 
stop... Please... Ohhhhhhhhh I'm cumming, I'm cumming, 
I'm cumming... OH GOD YES!!"

Diane spasmed and climaxed her heart slamming against 
her ribs, her mind awash with the flaming pleasure of 
her orgasm. Her insides felt as though they were afire, 
and her release circled through her in increasing 
spirals. Her fluids gushed down along Marc's mouth and 
chin, puddled wetly around his finger still sunk in her 
anus, dripped to the clothing below. Finally, she 
collapsed on the rug, dropping her legs as though they 
were lead weights. She lay uselessly immobile, the 
world having almost ended for her in a cataclysmic 
ecstasy.

Cord cradled his face in the warm softness of her 
pussy. He panted his exhaustion along with her heaving 
breath, and then removed his finger and crawled over to 
find her lips with his. She could feel the stickiness 
of her fluids on his cheeks, and then he smiled and 
said softly, "Rest, Mrs. Slater. Then do it to me. Then 
suck my cock like I just sucked your cunt."

She nodded her head gently in agreement and dove her 
tongue deep into his mouth in silent appreciation for 
the indescribable journey he had taken her on.

***

Roger had let Cindy lower him to the couch, squirming 
her hot body beneath him provocatively. He had wanted 
to go to another room so he could see her nakedness in 
private, but she had not waited, and uncaring that her 
husband or his wife were on the other side of the 
couch, she had wantonly stripped her panty-hose from 
beneath her short dress, and then unbuckled Roger's 
trousers hurriedly. His head whirled from the champagne 
and from the heady aroma of her musk. Damn, but she was 
hot! he thought. Hot and ready!

She took his hand and guided it to the softness of her 
vagina, rubbing his palm into the crinkly pubic hair. 
The pungent aroma of her pussy was so strong that it 
wafted like thick perfume in Roger's nostrils. It has 
jasmine, sweet jasmine.

"Finger me!" she groaned, wrapping her hands in the 
wiry hair around his cock, tantalizing the blood-
hardened member with stroking nearness. It leapt to 
meet her invading fingers, but as it touched them, they 
pulled away teasingly.

Roger obeyed her command, his fingers probing the 
gentle entrance of her cunt and hardening her little 
clitoris, making it stand up from where it snuggled on 
the folds of her labia. It gave him a vast sense of 
power to see how she wriggled and squirmed under his 
ministrations, and he pressed harder, pulling the 
ragged slit of her vagina open wide and rubbing up and 
down her moist crotch abandonedly.

Cindy began to stroke his burgeoning penis more 
erotically, and finally Roger could stand it no longer. 
His cock throbbed like some thundering stallion, and he 
grabbed her legs and drew himself on top of her, his 
rigid, palpitating member brushing against her pubic 
hair and slithering along her soaked cunt slit.

"Oh yes, now I want you... now, now!" she gasped, 
splaying her legs as far apart as she could get them. 
She dropped one leg to the floor and arched the other 
over the rim of the couch. Roger looked down between 
their bodies, staring with hungry mouth wide at the 
upturned magnificence of her open pink furrow. She 
lurched upward in a spasmodic urge to hurry his cock 
into her. 

She groped between her legs, finding the jerky blunt 
head of his prick so that she could place the fleshy 
hugeness of his hardened cock into the full length of 
her open, quivering hold. Her tightly closed hands 
caressed it tenderly, reverently, and she steered it up 
to the cave of her vagina, never letting it lose touch 
with her boiling flesh. Already it was convulsing and 
the viscid milk oozed from its lust-filled opening. She 
held it in place, and then with her other hand pushed 
against Roger's buttocks. His mighty weapon thrust 
itself deep within her, quelling only a portion of the 
gnawing heat which was consuming her insatiable slit.

He began to pump, his long, grinding strokes bringing 
noises from Cindy like those of a mewling kitten 
searching for milk. Then, dimly, he heard another 
sound, gasps as though a woman were in intense pain. He 
was half-tempted to raise his head and see what it was, 
but the force of Cindy's animalistic mating was too 
great; he sank to her, drubbing her thighs with his 
powerful battering.

"OOOOOooooohhhhhh!" he heard in a husky woman's gurgle.

"That's what I like! Yes, yes, yessssss...!"

Roger froze involuntarily as he recognized his wife's 
voice. He couldn't comprehend it for a long moment, 
until he was shocked back into reality by Cindy's 
pleading demand: "Keep fucking, Roger, goddamn it, keep 
fucking!"

There were other, softer murmurs and then: "AGGGGGHHHH! 
It hurts!"

Diane was really getting it! He was wildly excited by 
the though of his wife's lust, and by Cindy's mad 
undulations. He felt his cock throbbing and aching in 
Cindy's sopping wet vagina, and his testicles felt 
swollen and angry with his rapidly building cum.

He heard his young wife's voice gasp, "Oh God, I can't 
take it!" and then the spiraling shriek of her inner 
soul as she reached her climax. Then there was silence, 
save for the rustling of clothes and the panting of 
commingled breaths.

Cindy heaved against him, making Roger lose interest in 
his wife's actions again. He bent to the task of 
fucking Cindy, slamming his mammoth penis to the hilt, 
hitting her cervix with increasing pressure, his cock 
ripping away at her enclosing grasp with overwhelming 
desire.

Then suddenly there was a groan from Cord's lips as 
though he had been stabbed, and a voice cut through the 
air like a knife. "Ooohh, Diane! Your mouth is like 
butter!"

The meaning of those words was all too clear. Roger 
gyrated in Cindy's cunt, his eyes clenched shut in a 
futile attempt to blot out the horrible picture of his 
wife's sweet lips slipping over Marc's obscene, 
glistening penis. The ultimate torture of fucking a 
woman while your own is sucking another man overwhelmed 
him. His mind drew a thousand pictures, and unheeding 
the panting demands of Cindy, he withdrew his cock and 
raised himself up and peeked over the edge of the 
couch.

"Don't leave me, Roger!" squealed Cindy, clutching at 
him. "For God's sake, don't leave me!" She tried to pry 
his fingers from the couch, but to no avail. Roger's 
eyes were fastened almost mesmerically on the lewd 
scene before him.

The sight of Cord's hard shaft completely absorbed 
between his wife's ovalled lips increased his sexual 
appetite a hundredfold. Diane was massaging the soft 
resilient skin of Marc's testicles and she swallowed 
continually, her throat muscles milking his prick. Her 
tongue laved the underside of his prick while its tip 
taunted the base and a portion of his sperm-bloated 
balls. The look on Cord's face told Roger he was 
experiencing the ultimate of pleasurable fermenations.

Diane hummed and purred hungrily, Marc's heavy and 
throbbing penis vibrating and reaching from her throat. 
She waggled her hips provocatively, totally absorbed in 
her wanton task.

"Suck harder!" he heard Cord groan through passion-
clenched teeth. Diane tightened her lips and bobbed yet 
faster, the cock buried deep in her mouth.

"That's what you want, is it?" Cindy whispered next to 
him.

"You want to watch? Well, goddamn it, then let's 
watch!"

Cindy suddenly jerked upwards, pushing Roger away. He 
staggered to his feet, unsure of what she was doing, 
and she took him by his still erect penis, hands 
clasping the turgid rod like a walking stick, and led 
him around the couch. She guided him to a spot beside 
his wife, and then pulled him to the rug. His eyes 
rested on the lewd, obscene performance in front of 
him. 

God, she's hot! he thought, and his aching penis 
throbbed in anticipatory lust of resuming his fucking 
of Cindy. The abysmal, lascivious thought of fucking in 
front of Diane while another man pumped her convulted 
mouth with his huge sperm bloated cock overcame him, 
and he slipped his hands around Cindy's waiting 
buttocks and lowered her to his waiting prick. She 
impaled herself with a mighty groan, committing sexual 
hara-kiri with utter abandonment. He gasped as Cindy, 
riding his gigantic, throbbing cock, reached behind her 
and gently enfolded his testicles with her fingers, and 
then leaned forward, making his prick scrape her inner 
cunt walls. 

She moved up and down, her soft pubic hair parting and 
then folding inwards as she slid down his lubricated 
pole. Her pussy clasped him like a well-fitting glove. 
He let his hips move off the rug, and with a groan 
which started in his belly, he rammed forward, 
burrowing his cock deeper still into Cindy's clasping 
pussy, flooding into the kneeling woman like a great 
tide that tore and burst everything in its path.

Roger still gazed upon his wife as he shattered Cindy's 
stretched and open cunt. He groaned with the doubled 
ecstasy of fucking and seeing Diane trapped between 
Cord's legs. The man thrust his cock mercilessly into 
her mouth, forcing her sucking, fish-like lips apart 
with each upward jerk until almost all his rigid flesh 
was swallowed by her working concave-convex cheeks. Her 
long, disheveled blonde hair cascaded over her 
shoulders to pool on his belly, and her firm, white 
breasts danced and shook below her heaving chest as 
though they had a life of their own.

Unconsciously he began to imitate his wife's rhythm as 
the tempo increased, and his cock throbbed inside 
Cord's wife's burning pussy, her soft moistness 
unbearable. Wilder and wilder the two couples became, 
their beat regulated by the rhythm of Diane's swirling 
tongue around Cord's near exploding cock.

And then... a deep, half-human cry erupted from Cord 
and he locked his hands around the back of Diane's 
bobbing head, driving his cock so deep into her throat 
that Roger could no longer see any of it protrude from 
his wife's wet and glistening lips. Her wild sucking 
changed to great desperate, gulping swallows as Cord 
spewed huge quantities of hot, white semen into her 
mouth. Some dribbled from her tightly clasping lips in 
spite of her efforts to consume it all, running in 
rivulets down her chin and neck. She swallowed and 
reswallowed, hollowing and then bloating her engorged 
cheeks. Christ, Roger thought, that man must have a 
hollow leg full of cum!

At the same time he could feel a gush of warmth around 
his own cock as Cindy groaned out her release. Her 
juices began to flow out from around his deeply 
imbedded cock and down into the softness of his 
testicles. He clenched his eyes shut and felt his balls 
erupt wildly. It was as if hot lightening started to 
ride up his scrotum and leap down his shaft, and his 
sperm shot like water from a faucet up into Cindy's 
palpitating belly. He thrust upwards as far as he was 
able, spewing out his load, grinding his pelvis against 
her pussy without mercy.

Diane whimpered, her own orgasm having been released 
with the saltine taste of Cord's cum. She moved her 
head, Marc's deflated cock slipping wetly from her 
mouth, and Roger could see the thin sticky cords of his 
hot sperm still connecting her face to the warm 
throbbing head even though they were now inches apart. 
Her breathing was heavy and she groaned and then she 
collapsed sideways, her body a limp doll, held in place 
only by the inner thighs of Cord's still raised legs.

Roger strained and emptied the last of his cum deep 
into Cindy and then released his hands from her. She 
slithered forward and lay across his chest, her legs 
still bent at his hips. He turned his head and smiled 
at his wife, smiled at her lovingly, completely at ease 
with the satiation of mutual orgasm. She returned his 
smile, thin trails of sperm still visible around her 
ruby lips.

Later the four of them performed other wild and 
abandoned acts, with Cord directing them like a 
Hollywood film maker. The evening faded into a mass of 
tangled legs, breasts, cocks, and cunts. When Roger and 
Diane finally bid their farewell early the next 
morning, they both realized they had passed the point 
of no return. They had been initiated and accepted. 
They were full-fledged members of the cult now, for 
better or for worse...


CHAPTER 7
---------

On a warm, balmy Friday, two months after that wild, 
orgiastic evening at the Cords', Diane was reading a 
magazine in the living room of their duplex and 
thinking about Roger.

He was now the full-fledged General Office Manager of 
Marc Cord's section at Waller, Waller, Crist and 
Maxwell--the former manager, Drake, having now retired. 
According to Marc, he was doing extremely well and very 
much in line for a substantial raise in his present two 
thousand dollar monthly salary.

Diane couldn't have been happier--for Roger, and for 
herself. They had been pricing homes in San Bruno, a 
few miles south of San Francisco, for two weeks now, 
and Roger was negotiating with a real estate man for a 
beautiful piece of property that had a magnificent view 
of the Bay Area, which they had seen high in the 
winding foothills near Skyline Boulevard. If things 
went according to schedule, and if the proper financial 
arrangements were satisfactorily worked out, they would 
be moving into that sumptuous home within the month. 
Too, Roger had told her that as soon as they completed 
the deal, he would buy her a car of her own, perhaps a 
little sports model, and a new and fancy Detroit model 
for himself.

Yes, things were on a skyrocketing upswing now. 
Everything was going just beautifully. She and Roger 
were now making love at least once a night, and 
experiencing new and wild joys each and every time. 
Why, only the other evening they had 69'd for three 
solid hours; Roger's tongue had sent her whirling to 
incalculable orgasms during that time, while she had 
sucked and milked his prick of sticky, hot, delicious 
loads of sperm three times, never allowing that 
marvelous cock of his to escape her lips... even when 
it had deflated, she continued to nibble and suckle it 
until it once more grew to its monstrous proportions in 
the cushiony-soft folds of her mouth.

They were still seeing the Cords, too, once and twice 
each week. Her sessions with Marc, and Roger's with 
Cindy, heightened their sexual satisfaction in one 
another. Diane never ceased to be amazed at her own 
sensual abandonment, as the excitement she felt at 
watching Roger kissing Cindy's vagina not a foot away 
from her eyes, at sucking Marc's great male cock with 
her eyes open wide and staring salaciously into Rogers. 
It was almost as if she couldn't get enough of Marc's 
and Roger's cocks, as if her mouth and cunt had become 
totally insatiable. Whereas before she had lived in 
dread of fucking, she now lived purely for fucking. And 
she had never enjoyed the fruits of life more.

Diane turned the pages of the magazine idly. It was 
almost one o'clock now, and she would have to begin the 
preparations for supper before long. She was having a 
special dinner for Roger -- crablegs made with 
mushrooms and sour cream and wine--not for any special 
reason, just because she loved him. Of course, she 
didn't feel much like going through the prosaic chores 
of cooking on this warm afternoon; what she really felt 
like doing...

The doorbell began to chime.

Now who can that be? Diane wondered, rising. I hope 
it's Mr. Comstock. He doesn't know we'll be leaving 
yet, and I want the pleasure of telling him what he can 
do with this under-heated crumbling old place. She went 
to the door and opened it.

Marc Cord stood on the small porch outside. With him 
was a short, shubby man of about forty, with a bald 
pate and dark brown eyes. The man was grinning to begin 
with, and when he saw the lush, full curves of Diane's 
skirt-and-sweater draped body, the grin widened and 
became hot and lewd.

Cord said, "Hi, kitten..."

"Marc," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted you to meet a friend of mine," he told her. 
"Diane Slater, this is Ed Blake. He's out of our Los 
Angeles office, Diane."

"Hiya, Mrs. Slater," Blake said, boldly undressing her 
with his hot, fevered eyes. "This is indeed a 
pleasure."

She squirmed slightly under his gaze, deciding that she 
didn't like him at all. Why had Marc brought him around 
here, anyway? She said, "How do you do?" in a cool 
voice, and then looked at Cord.

He said, "Aren't you going to invite us in?"

"Well, yes, all right." She stood aside, letting them 
pass by her. Blake's hand came in contact with the 
smooth curve of her buttocks, seemed to linger there 
for a moment, and then he was past her. She didn't 
think his touching her like that was an accident, and 
she shivered slightly.

She closed the door and turned to the two men. "Can I 
offer you something?" she asked.

"Yeah," Blake said, grinning obscenely. "How about a 
little piece of you."

She glared at him. "I don't think that's particularly 
funny, Mr. Blake," she said icily.

"Hey, take it easy, kitten," Cord soothed. "Ed likes to 
kid around, that's all."

"Well, I don't like it," she said. "Was there something 
special you wanted, Marc, or is this visit purely 
social?"

"Just to tell you Cindy and I are having a little party 
tomorrow night," he said, grinning, "For special 
friends only, if you know what I mean."

Diane frowned. "No, I don't." She lied, embarrassed in 
front of the stranger.

"You and Roger just come on over around nine. I don't 
think you'll be disappointed in the... ah... 
entertainment."

"Well... all right. If Roger hasn't anything else 
planned."

"Oh, he hasn't," Cord chuckled. "I talked to him about 
it

this morning." He looked at Blake, then. "Why don't you 
have a seat, Ed? I think I could use a drink. How about 
you,"

"Sounds good," Blake said.

"Have you got anything here?" Cord asked Diane.

"Just some bourbon."

"Fine. Will you make us a couple of belts?"

"All right."

She turned and went through the door into the kitchen. 
She was at the sink, taking glasses down from the 
overhead cupboard, when Cord came into the room. He 
moved up close behind her, as she was stretched on 
tiptoe reaching for the tumblers, and pressed his loins 
against the curving, rounded moons of her buttocks. He 
let his hands slide around her waist and then come up 
to cup the full, erect mounds of her breasts, kneading 
them gently.

"Hi, baby," he whispered against her soft, sweetly-
smelling hair.

She felt herself shiver at the touch of his hands and 
body on her. She couldn't help it; every time she was 
around Marc Cord, the only thing she could think about 
was sex. Her body reacted accordingly, sending ripples 
of pleasure, of desire, swirling along her flesh.

She took the glasses down and put them on the drain-
board, but made no move to step out of his embrace. He 
continued to massage her breasts, pressuring the soft, 
resilient flesh and the erect buds of her ruby nipples. 
She could feel his rapidly inflating cock grind against 
the perfectly rounded globes of her ass, and tremors of 
flaming lust eddied deep in the core of her stomach.

"Damn you, Marc!" she breathed between tightly clenched 
teeth, her eyes closed as she yielded her body to the 
delicious manipulations of his fingers and pelvis. "Why 
do you have to torture us like this? You know I can't 
resist you, and you know just as well that we can't do 
anything about it now."

"Why not, kitten?" he hissed into her ear.

Her hips were beginning to rotate in time with his as 
his hands moved down now, to slide under the sweater 
and stroke the soft flatness of her belly, the tips of 
his fingers dipping tantalizingly into the waistband of 
her skirt. She managed, "Because... because of your... 
friend, Mr. Blake... um,  out there, oh God, Marc... 
you've got me so hot I think I'm... I'm going to 
explode!"

"Never mind Mr. Blake," Cord whispered, sliding his 
hand still deeper inside her skirt and now inside her 
panties, caressing the soft fleece of her pubic mound. 
"Come on, Diane baby, I want you to suck my cock. I 
want to put my big, hot prick in your mouth and feel 
you lick it with your tongue."

His obscene words drove all thoughts of caution from 
Diane's mind, casting propriety to the wind. Her cunt 
was dripping anticipatory fluid now, and the palm of 
his hand was rubbing gently over her pubic area, the 
tip of his forefinger searching for, and finding, the 
tiny, oscillating tip of her moist, nestled clitoris. 
God, I want him! she thought to herself, I want to suck 
him, just as he said, feel his huge cock sawing in and 
out of my mouth! I don't care about anything else in 
the whole wide, infinite universe except Marc Cord's 
great, lust-inflamed, blue-veined cock!

"Oh... yes, Marc... yes, yes! I want to suck you, now, 
right now!"

She turned to face him, pressing herself to him, 
feeling the heat of his hand between them as he 
continued to stroke her clitoris with maddening, 
frenzied circles. She put her tongue in his mouth and 
then bit his lip, gently, still grinding her hips 
against his harder and faster and she felt the ebbing 
whirlpools of lust seethe uncontrollably inside her.

"In... in the bedroom!" Cord groaned. "Come on... baby, 
in the bedroom!"

Obediently, still clinging to him, with his hand still 
insinuated inside the waistband of her skirt, she 
allowed Marc to lead her through the kitchen door, 
along the short hallway into the bedroom. There, he 
took his hand away and kissed her long and hard, 
darting his tongue wildly inside her mouth to swirl 
against hers, their saliva mixing and blending and 
flowing in thin rivulets from the corners of Diane's 
widely-parted red lips. Then he stepped back away from 
her and tore at the belt of his suit trousers with one 
hand, using the other to shrug out of his coat. "Get 
naked, baby!" he ordered. "Now; hurry, hurry!"

She pulled and tore at her binding garments, her mind 
mesmeric with lust, her eyes staring hungrily at the 
bulging front of Cord's now-exposed shorts. And then 
she was naked, and Marc's gigantic tool, hot and 
throbbing and angrily purplish, was swaying back and 
forth in anticipation before her. Not bothering to 
remove his shirt or tie, but stepping out of his shorts 
and trousers, Cord fell back on the bed, spreading his 
legs and thighs wide to allow room for her to kneel 
between them. 

Quickly, wild with seething emotions, she took 
advantage of his mute offer and knelt there, her knees 
touching the hirsute flesh of his legs. She lowered her 
head, her eyes feasting on her target, her lips parting 
expectantly, tongue moistening their dewy softness. Her 
left hand came up to stroke tenderly his wrinkled 
scrotum, massage the base of his mighty prick, and then 
encircle it in her hand. Suddenly, her head darted down 
and her famished, wet mouth seized what it wanted and 
needed, the only nourishment it cared about at that 
moment. 

She began to suck him slowly, agonizingly, maddeningly, 
running her tongue wetly around and around the slimy, 
salty, lubricated head and licking the tip teasingly 
into the tiny open slit of the moist gland until she 
could feel it throbbing as if it had a life of its own 
and would gush forward at any second a great, never-
ending fountain of creamy white cum.

Her head bobbed up and down slavishly over the thick 
shaft of flesh now, sucking harder, her tongue swirling 
faster, and Cord's buttocks twisted wildly on the 
bedspread. His hands wrapped themselves in the soft, 
silky strands of her hair, pushing her head down over 
his gigantic column. Diane could feel its dripping head 
batter against the back of her throat, but she made no 
move to alleviate the intense ramming pressure there, 
allowing her lips to suckle maddeningly, convoluting as 
she strove to draw the very essence of his being along 
the passage of his great, purplish, monstrous cock.

Suddenly, Diane heard a sound--the sound of the bedroom 
door opening!

Her eyes flew open, and from her position with her 
mouth almost completely engulfing Cord's prick on the 
bed she was able to see the doorway clearly. There, 
framed in the arch, was Ed Blake. He was completely 
nude, the short, rigid, chunky length of his thick cock 
standing obscenely from the thick curling bristles of 
his pubic hair. His flesh was milky white, unhealthy, 
and his soft, doughy belly hung sagging over his 
abdomen. His eyes were wild with uncontrolled, 
animalistic passion, and his lips were skinned back 
over his teeth in a snarl of salacious delight.

Ripples of horror flashed through Diane's body. She 
tried to pull her head up from Cord's loins, to release 
his giant pole from her mouth, but Marc's hands were 
still entangled in her hair and she couldn't move. She 
could only stare in terror as Blake advanced slowly, 
his eyes on the stretched moons of Diane's swaying 
upraised buttocks. He was holding his hardened cock in 
his hand now, like some nightmare general heading forth 
to do battle.

Diane tried to cry out, but Cord held her firm. "It's 
all right, baby," he crooned. "Just relax, now; just 
relax and enjoy it!"

Enjoy it? Diane thought, frightened. What was the 
matter with Marc? Had... he brought this filthy slug of 
a man Ed Blake here with this explicit purpose in mind? 
Had he caressed her and stroked her in the kitchen, 
getting her hot, just so she would do his bidding and 
suck him--with her quivering ass stretched skyward, 
naked and defenseless, waiting for Blake to come in 
and... Oh god, oh god! Oh no, not that! That was one 
thing she had never allowed Marc or Roger to do, take 
her anally; her rectum was virginal, and she wanted it 
to stay that way... Oh dear god, she couldn't allow her 
bowels to be raped, she couldn't... and yet, there was 
nothing she could do about it, nothing at all.

Blake had reached her now, his teeth still bared. Diane 
felt, then, the terrible viscid touch of his sausage-
like fingers on her palpitating hips, spreading them 
wide, opening the tiny puckered hole of her anus to his 
lustful gaze. She tried to twist away, but Cord flexed 
his hips and drove his huge rod deep against her larynx 
again, impaling her above him. And then she felt the 
hard, rubbery head of Blake's thick cock press against 
her naked rectal opening, tease along it there, poise 
at the tiny wrinkled ring.

No, no, no, no! her mind screamed. Please, no, GOD NO!

With brutal, sadistic lust, Blake suddenly rammed 
forward, his cock soaring into her tightly virginal 
asshole with savage, unmerciful force, never stopping 
as it tore through the membranous passage like some 
terrible ravaging machine.

"AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!" she screamed around Cord's prick. 
The cry changed to strangled gasps as Cord again flexed 
his buttocks to drive his invading cock deeper into the 
softness of her mouth.

"Goddamn... Cord, her asshole's a cherry, sure as hell! 
Christ, I didn't expect to get me a virgin on this 
deal!"

"Shut up... you bastard!" Cord panted. And then to 
Diane, "Come on, honey, it's  all right. I'm sorry I... 
had to do it this way but, Christ, it's business and 
Cindy's away until tomorrow. Just relax, honey, and 
you'll find out you like it. You'll thank me for it... 
afterwards."

She tried to scream out to him, but his big cock in her 
mouth forced the words to die in her throat. Her face 
was contorted not only in agony, but in the shame and 
humiliation of a complete stranger's insane and lewd 
prick defiling her defenseless anus. He clutched 
savagely at her hips and thrust his thick cock deeper 
into her rectum, into the warm, forbidden depths of her 
passage. The pressure of his straining thighs thrust 
her forward, thrust her head down lower on Cord's hairy 
belly, pushing his cock deeper still into her mouth.

"Aaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhhh!" she cried out again.

"Come on, baby!" Cord encouraged. "Keep sucking me, 
keep sucking me!"

Involuntarily, almost defensively, her lips began 
nibbling at the huge, fleshy surface of his bloated 
cock, tasting on her tongue the dribbling seminal fluid 
which escaped the tiny glans opening. Behind her, Blake 
was thrusting forward with great sawing strokes, making 
bestial sounds deep in the fat recesses of his throat 
as his fleshy rod continued its forward invasion, 
pushing the rubbery, resistant flesh before it until 
finally, with one last lunge that flattened his loins 
against her sweat-slick buttocks, he had sunk every 
last thick inch of his cock into her warm, constricting 
anus.

Her mouth worked harder and faster on Cord's prick now, 
suckling it wildly. His hips churned and rotated 
abandonedly on the bed, his fingers working 
convulsively in her hair as the moment of his building 
orgasm drew near. Blake's balls smacked loudly against 
the wet, drooling lips of Diane's vaginal orifice below 
as his loins ground mercilessly against her full, firm 
ass cheeks. 

Then he drew his wide rod out slightly, watching with 
bated breath as the wet base appeared before his eyes, 
the head still sunk between the wide, tight-stretched 
oval opening. He moaned, and thrust inward again, his 
breath coming faster. A gasp of total lust escaped his 
throat, and he began sawing rhythmically in and out, 
deep down into the warm clasping channel.

And in that moment, the pain and the terror and the 
humiliation began to leave Diane's body and mind, to be 
replaced with something else, something far more base: 
sexual arousal. Her hips began to grind backward as her 
anal passage grew accustomed to the turgid pole 
imbedded there, and she was suddenly, wonderfully, 
reveling in the lewd sodomizing of her asshole. Her 
head was flailing from side to side, her lips wildly 
sucking on Cord's prick as her jerking head bent it 
maddeningly from side to side. Oh God, she thought, Oh 
God, I do like it, Marc was right, I do like it, I like 
that ugly man's cock in my asshole, I like Marc's prick 
in my mouth, oh God I never dreamed anything this 
perverted could feel so wonderful and good...

Then she was buffeting back against Blake's driving 
cock like a rutting animal, as she felt the first 
tentative waves of her climax seize hold of her. Her 
lips swirled faster and faster and faster up and down, 
around and around, the near-exploding hardness of 
Cord's prick. She was mewling in total pleasure, 
letting her own cum build in direct cadence with Cord's 
and with Blake's, knowing it wouldn't be long now, 
wouldn't be long...

Blake gave a sudden, high-pitched squeal and his 
pummeling shaft drove forward even harder, working 
demon-like with its long, brutal strokes into her 
rectum. "I'm... I'm going to... to CUM!" he yelped.

"Oh Jesus... yes, mee... mee too!" Cord cried out, his 
body twisting and thrashing beneath Diane's madly 
sucking lips.

Oh God, and so... so am I! Diane's brain screamed. 
"Oooooohhhhhh, yesssssss, I'm... cumming too... cumming 
too. Aaaaaaaggghhhhh!"

She felt as if Blake's cock were rammed all the way 
through her body up to her throat as he jerked 
convulsively behind her. A great, burning surge of hot, 
swirling semen flooded deep, deep into her rectum as he 
continued to howl in orgiastic rapture. The hot liquid 
filled her belly, filled her quivering insides... and 
then there was more of the torrential fluid spasming up 
from the opening in Cord's cock, pouring into her 
throat, filling her mouth, almost choking her as he 
shot stream after stream of warm, hot seed from deep in 
his churning balls...

Diane's own climax happened then, a wild, intense 
release that exploded her juices simultaneously with 
the eruptions of Cord and Blake, and she felt their 
semen and her fluid rushing to commingle in her 
stomach--flowing down from her mouth and down from her 
anus, and up from her seething cunt, to become one 
together in the pit of her belly. In that moment, she 
went a little insane with rapture and she knew nothing 
but bliss incomparable for long mindless, soulless 
minutes as two cocks drained in two of her bodily 
orifices and flowing lubrication dripped from a third.

Later, much later, after Cord and Blake had bid her 
good-bye, Diane lay nude and unmoving on the bed. She 
felt warmly lethargic, completely fulfilled--and yes, 
without shame of any kind. What was the use of self-
deception? It served no purpose, did it? She had truly, 
undeniably reveled in the lewd, salacious rape of her 
virginal rectum by the fat, repulsive Ed Blake while 
she had milked Marc Cord's hot, throbbing prick with 
her mouth. The perverted seance á trois she had 
participated in had excited her into an orgasm of her 
own unequalled in total abandonment. God, it had been 
so good, so wonderful! And she wanted it to happen 
again, and again, and again.

Gone now, completely gone, were all her inhibitions, 
her prudish moral outlooks. She had become a woman of 
the flesh, living for physical gratification and no 
more, for nothing else was important except the 
beauteous, satiated feelings which now flowed through 
her like warm claret. She knew what her own personal 
Nirvana was, and she was there at that very moment...

Languorously, Diane stretched her arms over her head. 
She found herself thinking about Marc's invitation to 
his and Cindy's party the following evening, and his 
rather obvious hints as to just what type of party it 
would be. Yes, she was almost certain what would happen 
at the Cord's tomorrow night: wife-swapping at its 
ultimate, The Big Time, not just her and Roger and Marc 
and Cindy, but other couples as well; who knew how 
many? Where partners were freely exchanged, and every 
conceivable sort of abnormal sexual deviation was 
practiced. 

There was no doubt in her mind that this was what lay 
in store for her, and for Roger, if they decided to 
accept Marc Cord's invitation. And she knew, after what 
had just happened between her and Marc Cord and the 
stranger Ed Blake, that she was looking forward to 
whatever lewd perversions tomorrow night would bring. 
Looking forward to them eagerly, like a child looks 
forward to Christmas.

Unless she was very badly mistaken, she thought that 
Roger would be looking forward to them, too, for he 
surely knew just as she did what type of party it would 
be.

When Roger came home later that day, and they talked 
about it, she discovered that she was right on both 
counts.

***

Roger and Diane arrived at the Cords' Peacock Gap home 
at a few minutes past nine Saturday night.

Diane wore only a simple, clinging shift, without bra 
and panties, and her husband wore as little as 
possible. The air in the car on the ride over was 
charged with electric anticipation of what the evening 
was to bring. They hadn't spoken much, had simply sat 
with their thighs touching and hands clasping as Roger 
drove.

Marc opened the door to their ring, and Diane's eyes 
widened when she saw that he was completely nude. His 
fleshy shaft was rigid, throbbing slightly as it stood 
out from his abdomen like a giant steel bar. She looked 
at it, fascinated as always by its immensity; she 
moistened her lips. Cord had a martini in one hand, and 
from the crooked leer on his face Diane knew that he 
had been drinking for some time.

"C'mon in, kids!" he enthused, pulling the door open 
and waving them in. "Party's going good, now. Damned 
good, matter-of-fact."

They followed him inside. It was dark in the large 
living room, with only indirect ceiling lights to 
illuminate the dimness. Diane saw that there were a lot 
of ornate Chinese lanterns in a variety of colors 
decorating the ceiling. There were three couples in the 
room, all nude. Two of the couples were dancing to soft 
music from some hidden stereo, and both men had 
stiffened cocks. On the couch, another man was lying 
with his lips pressed between the widespread thighs of 
a red-haired girl; she was massaging his prick 
rhythmically as he licked the softness of her cunt.

Diane felt aroused sensations churn through her at the 
lewd sight, and then Cord grabbed her and pulled her up 
tight against his erect cock, rubbing it along her 
belly through the thin material of her shift. She 
shuddered, beginning to move her own pelvis in time to 
his rotations.

"Some party, eh, kitten?" he whispered in her ear. "But 
you already guessed what it'd be, didn't you?"

"Yes, Marc, I guessed."

He laughed. "Well, c'mon, get with it. Get outta those 
clothes and let it all hang out!"

He released her, and Diane -- with no trace of guilt or 
shame now--quickly took off the shift to expose her own 
trembling nakedness. She saw that Roger did the same, 
tossing his clothes along with hers onto a large pile 
of garments by the door. Cord drank in Diane's beauty 
with his eyes, licked his lips, and then waved Roger 
and her out onto the sun porch.

Cindy was making drinks at the bar, and she squealed 
when she saw Roger and rushed toward him, her naked 
breasts bobbing wildly. She kissed him hotly and took 
his hand and pressed it down to her moist cunt, taking 
his middle finger and insinuating it into her pulsating 
slit. "Glad you came, honey," she breathed heavily in a 
drunken drawl.

Cord fixed Roger and Diane a drink. In the doorway, he 
pointed to one of the dancing couples--a tall, gray-
haired man and a tiny, brunette with huge, swaying 
breasts--and said, "That's Randall Anderson and his 
wife, Shirley. He's a bigwig with a bank in San 
Francisco." Then he indicated the second couple, a 
medium-sized man with a straggly black beard and a 
lithe blonde girl with a huge bushy pubic triangle, as 
a prominent San Rafael physician, Doctor Ron Hilton and 
Isabel Ziniwall. 

The red-haired girl who was having her cunt licked on 
the couch turned out to be Jolene Hilton, the doctor's 
wife; the man was Reg Wilcox, a local real estate 
agent. There was one other couple present: Isabel 
Ziniwall's husband, Norman, who was a copywriter for a 
San Francisco advertising agency, and Wilcox's wife, 
Patti, a pert black-haired woman with curvaceously slim 
legs. They were lying near the pool, caressing one 
another, and Ziniwall's lips were locked over the 
turgid nipple of her right breast while her hand 
stroked his long, thin cock and toyed with his swelling 
balls.

Marc, the introductions and amenities having been 
performed, then left Roger and Diane to move into the 
living room. He stepped up to the dancing Anderson 
couple, whirled Shirley away from her husband, and 
backed her up against one wall. He lifted her right leg 
with one and used the other to guide his huge, blue-
veined cock into the wide, soft slit between her legs, 
and then rammed his great weapon home. Shirley Anderson 
gasped with delight, and began to use the wall as a 
springboard for her hips and she fucked back against 
his burgeoning tool with long, easy strokes.

Cindy pulled Roger into the other room, intending to 
usurp Jolene Hilton and Reg Wilcox from their positions 
on the couch; but before she could, Doctor Hilton left 
Isabel and grabbed Cindy and pulled her down onto the 
soft buff carpet. He began forcing his hard, leaking 
cock against her lips. She didn't resist, opening her 
lips wide to accept his invading monster, nibbling at 
it gently and hungrily. Roger knelt beside them, and 
Cindy reached out and grasped his own erect penis and 
began to stroke it lightly as she sucked the doctor's 
rod, he straddling her breasts.

Diane was left all alone. But not for long...


CHAPTER 8
---------

Diane felt warm and sensitive all over, and her pussy 
was secreting the fluids of her desire down her inner 
thighs. She knew that with all this going on around her 
she was going to be fucked and fucked hard very 
quickly.

Suddenly soft hands wrapped around her, squeezing her 
breasts from behind, fingers roughly kneading the 
nipples. Diane looked down, surprised. She had wanted 
Marc first, but saw her nipples grow hard and erect 
under the pressure. Someone kissed her on the neck, on 
the shoulders. And she shivered as she turned and 
recognized the man as the sneaky looking Randall 
Anderson. He smiled crookedly at her, running his 
fingers from her breasts down to the pink, dilating 
cunt lips of her inflamed crotch. She groaned in 
protest at the sudden, familiar contact, but in spite 
of her revulsion she didn't try to stop him or pull 
away.

She looked down at his cock, which was fully erect and 
pressing against her belly like some conqueror's 
standard. Her face contorted with a slight revulsion at 
its sight, for Randall's member wasn't the beautiful 
thing Roger's or Marc's were; his was monstrous and 
webbed all along the shaft with heavy, throbbing blue 
veins, giving grim advance warning of the lustful state 
he was in.

"Like it, honey?" Randall grinned lopsidedly at her.

She tried to answer, but her voice seemed caught in her 
throat. "Yes, yes, I like it," she finally managed, 
knowing he was going to get it from her anyway.

"Good, because I'm going to put it up your cunt like a 
ramrod. It's going to go so far in that you'll be able 
to taste it all the way up in your throat," he said, 
his grin turning to a full smile of overwhelming lust.

Randall pressed against her then, forcing Diane back 
against the porch's tweed couch. She dropped to it, 
sitting with her legs together, staring fearful up at 
Randall, who looked down at her with eyes like fiery 
coals. His long cock had rarely ached as it did now, 
and he lowered himself to her, pushing her back, his 
face pressed in the soft, clean odor of her long blonde 
hair.

"Spread your legs, honey. I can't fuck you with them 
together." He thought that was funny and he laughed, 
his knees slowly and relentlessly forcing her legs 
apart, her toes hanging over the edge as she adjusted 
herself to his body. She gave up all thought of modesty 
or of caring whether she truly desired this man, 
knowing that resistance would be futile. 

A soft moan escaped her lips as she felt the hardness 
of his huge, bloated cock make warm, wet contact with 
the soft inner flesh of her thighs. Randall moved 
forward, insinuating the full length of his member 
along the narrow, wide-stretched crevice of her crotch, 
her shoulders pinned to the cushions, her buttocks 
squirming and twisting beneath him, inciting his lust 
to the fullest.

"No, wait!" Randall said suddenly. "I want you in the 
ass! Yeah, that's it. I want to shove my prick in your 
sweet little asshole. Turn over!"

Diane stiffened and a faint dizziness overtook her, 
making her gulp desperately for air.

"Go on, turn over!"

She moved slowly, unsurely, but did as he bid, tears of 
frustration and anger beginning to well up in her eyes. 
There was no escape. There was only the rigid dripping 
cock of the thin little man behind her, and it was 
quivering with the anticipation of the salacious attack 
it was about to render.

Randall's hand pulled her hips up off the couch, while 
his other hand steadied her back, pressing her head to 
the cushion. Her buttocks waved defenselessly in the 
air, and for a moment Diane tried to press forward and 
drop them from their lewd height, but he pushed her 
neck down. Diane gave up any struggle. Her body was a 
helpless toy for this man to use in his animalistic 
quest for satisfaction... satisfaction that would only 
cease when he had shot his load of hot steamy desire 
deep within her soft, resilient body.

Randall gaped at the ivory moons of her cream-white 
buttocks as they stretched before him like a sacrifice 
to uncontrolled lasciviousness. God, he had never seen 
anything like it before! His balls tingled and he 
hardly could wait to feel her squirm and cry beneath 
him; the thought sent sensations of desire racing 
through his groin like an electrical charge.

He ground the head of his huge, purplish cock along the 
narrow valley of her defenseless ass, pressing the soft 
cheeks around it like a quivering sandwich of flesh. 
Then he leaned forward and kissed the ridges of her 
backbone, ran his lips along the small of her back. 
Diane groaned slightly and trembled from the wet 
contact at both places. He leaned back and dipped his 
head, running his long pink tongue up and down the full 
length of the crevice, between the globoid cheeks of 
her soft buttocks.

He dropped still lower, his thumbs on either side of 
her straining backside and spread her hillocks until 
the corded muscles of her inner thighs slowly relaxed, 
bit by bit. Diane had geared her mind for brutality, 
pain and humiliation. But this was soft and pleasant 
and wonderful, and she found that she enjoyed this 
man's touch, as different as it was from Marc's or 
Roger's ministrations, and the caressing of her inner 
thighs and buttocks and his lapping tongue at the door 
of her bowels made her sigh with sudden perverted 
wantonness.

Randall crouched until his face was in line with the 
blood-engorged folds of her vagina. As he watched, the 
red lips throbbed once and parted of their own volition 
and he could see the moistness which was forming on the 
smooth white sides of her inner thighs. Diane teasingly 
eased her rear farther back to him and spread her legs 
to open her private parts to his salacious view.

He moved forward, his face but an inch from the soft 
pubic hair which was like a beard around the mouth of 
her now slippery cunt and the odor in his nostrils was 
one of sweetness that drifted up from her flowering 
cavern. He breathed hard and blew softly into her. She 
groaned and squirmed, the pink, smooth flesh glistening 
from her secretions. The lessening of her fear had been 
like a release of some great weight upon her mind, and 
she sighed, letting Randall's feather-like touch work 
her into a sexual frenzy. She felt the rising howl of 
passion building deep in her belly, in her very soul.

Then there was a hot, exciting rush of air as he blew 
between her spreading globes again. Reflexively she 
clenched her thighs together, but then her buttocks 
relaxed as a feeling of great enraptured overtook her. 
Her behind had never felt so open, so naked, so wet 
before, and there were a thousand small furry animals 
caressing her sensitive flesh, running over her naked 
body gently. She floated on a fleece-covered cloud 
whose very warmth belied the presence of danger.

Randall grinned obscenely into the wide crevice of this 
young helpless wife's beauteous ass, and the cheeks 
quivered in front of his lust-twisted face. He bent 
forward, prying her wider with his thumbs until she was 
unprotected and stationary before him. Then, with one 
quick movement, he thrust his tongue forward, deep into 
the warm fleshy lips of her vagina. 

He heard her gasp from the sudden entry and then with a 
smothering sigh, she leaned back into him, her cunt 
passage contracting and spasming around the long 
smoothness of his tongue. Her breath exploded from her 
mouth and she gave small gasps and mewling grunts as he 
began to orally fuck her, flicking and swirling his 
tongue crazily around inside her. She swayed around his 
face, his nose embedded deep, deep within the passion-
drenched folds of her pulsating young pussy.

Randall worked behind the kneeling Diane, slavering and 
plunging with his tongue, making wet, sluicing noises 
with each thrust. Her cries turned to one long moan, 
and he pushed his face tighter against her expanding 
crotch and began to suck and tease it gleefully with 
his teeth like a greedy, untamed beast.

"Oooooo-hhhhhhhh!" she crooned, her body and mind lost 
to the completely uncontrolled sensations of his 
sucking, and her cunt flowed and saliva and vaginal 
lubrication juices mingled and trickled down her legs. 
Randall could sense her impending cum by the wild, 
abandoned tempo of her thrashing buttocks, and he knew 
that it was time to ram his seething cock into the 
innocent softness of her rectum. He wanted to have her 
climax with his long thick prick inside her belly, and 
he wanted to explode his cum into her bowels to the 
rhythm of her own fulfillment.

He slithered to his knees, aching with anticipation, 
working his hips into the glistening wetness of her 
loins, pressing himself tightly to the open crack of 
her ass. He held his palpitating cock tightly between 
his fingers, its angry blood-red head poised 
mercilessly before the tight elastic opening of her 
anus. He taunted her until her whimpers drifted back to 
him, running the head insinuatingly around the tiny 
puckered opening. Then he introduced the massive head 
into her saliva-coated channel, constantly pressuring 
until its entire length was submerged by slow, 
tormenting inches into the depths of her bowels.

Randall slowly withdrew his prick and then wormed his 
way back in, his invading monster ripping away at her 
entrails. He could feel his foreskin being peeled back, 
and he looked down with crazy delight at her pink-
ribbed hole as it puckered around his massive cock. And 
he gave a quick, hip-thrusting stab.

"AAAAAGGGggghhh!" she suddenly screamed, trying to pull 
away.

"It hurts! GOD NO PLEEZEE!"

Randall grinned excitedly, held her tight in a bear hug 
and rammed his monstrous cock deeper, harder.

"Push back!" he commanded.

"No, no, it's too big!" Her whole body was racked with 
agony at his sudden onslaught, and her anal passage 
felt like some excavated tunnel basted with huge 
supports. His vicious penis surged further, solid and 
painful, until she had absorbed all of him, until there 
was no more.

"Oh, ohhh, ohhhhh!" she groaned, but pushed back she 
did. Randall began to saw mercilessly, crooning with 
delight. Diane dug her nails into her palm as the pain 
eased, and she felt strangely wet and open back between 
her buttocks. Abruptly she began to feel a masochistic 
mixture of pain and joy. She realized she was beginning 
to respond, to heave backwards to meet his forward 
thrusts, and she undulated her body and moved her 
mooned buttocks in tiny circles. "Oh yes, oh yesssss!" 
she hissed. "Fuck my ass, fuck my ass!"

He gouged deeper, the pressure on his cock tight and 
exhilarating, promising to draw his hot sperm from his 
balls like a monstrous vacuuming hose.

Diane reached behind her and stroked his swinging balls 
as they slapped against her hair covered cunt lips. She 
found enjoyment in the touch of his wrinkled sac and 
began to work her thumb against her own clitoris as she 
caressed him, moving in time to his buried penis. Her 
complexion was flushed, and her teeth were bared back 
with the tantalizing explosions in her rectal passage. 
Her long hair was strewn over the settee like a mad 
woman's. Dear God! She was hopelessly, marvelously, 
madly impaled!

***

"You want to fuck me?" Isabel Ziniwall asked.

"Yes, God, I want to!" Roger answered, the lewd words 
of the woman exciting him more.

"Then tell me," she breathed.

"I want to fuck you!"

"Oh God," she moaned. "Fuck me deep and hard, lover 
man!"

He rose from the pool-side deck chair, where he had 
gone with Isabel after leaving Cindy and Dr. Hilton, 
and stood over her, his cock standing in naked erection 
in front of him. She looked up from her sitting 
position on the patio and smiled lewdly. "I'm going to 
like that inside me, twisting in my cunt." She raised a 
searching hand and stroked his blood-soaked shaft. "Oh, 
God, how I want you to fuck me!"

He lay down beside her, dragging her over to him, then 
he cupped her buttocks with his hands, massaging and 
kneading the soft flesh, the warm hole of enchantment 
buried between her legs. She was beautifully shaped, 
her legs and thighs long and sinewy, and her body was 
warm and provocative against him. She raised her face 
and locked their mouths together as she reached down 
between them for his hard penis. Her odor was 
maddening, a perfume he was not familiar with but which 
reminded him dimly of roses. Her lips were gentle but 
urgent, a rubbery softness which sent chills racing 
along his spine. The firm surface of her teeth yielded 
to his exploring tongue.

Suddenly she ground her pelvis tightly to him and 
pulled him over on top of her, spreading her thighs and 
raising her legs in order to take his lust-stiffened 
cock inside her. She arched off the patio and pulled 
her vaginal lips back with her fingertips so that her 
slit lay nakedly exposed to his throbbing cock. She 
began to slide up and down the length of him, her soft 
silky hair parting for the pulsating head, and then she 
lurched upwards with a sudden cruel thrust which 
impaled her agonizingly on his great instrument.

"Oooooh!" she moaned beneath him. "Fuck me, fuck me!"

He felt the warm sheath of her hot cunt slip wetly 
along his sensitive shaft, and his cock raced to her 
full depths, battering against her cervix, her 
lubrication making wet slurping sounds which 
intensified his lust. His balls slapped hard against 
the tiny puckered hole of her anus.

Isabel screamed a low, throaty, animal-like cry, 
pushing and shoving harder against his groin. He 
reached under her and between her buttocks while he 
drove his rampaging cock into her pliant cunt, and 
stretched the crevice of her ass, searching with his 
fingertip for her anus. A river of warm fluids ran down 
her thighs and buttocks and moistened the tiny ring, 
lubricating it as he probed for a moment with his 
finger. He pushed hard, feeling it give, and then his 
finger slid in with a soft plopping sound. She jumped 
forward on his sawing cock, almost slithering backward 
on her spine.

"Aaaaaaggggg!" she yelled. "It hurts, it hurts! But I 
want more! More!" She screwed her buttocks back on his 
finger. "I want it, I want all of you!"

Roger felt the thin wall of flesh which separated the 
underside of his cock from his skewering finger. He 
began to rotate his finger, easing it further into her 
rectum until his palm was flat against her soft, pliant 
ass. She caught the rhythm and opened her legs yet 
wider to give him greater access to the ravishment of 
her loins. Roger's penis grew and expanded inside her 
until she thought it was going to burst from the 
exquisite pleasure building in his testicles. His 
climax wasn't far away, and with a frenzy he rammed his 
prick and finger in cadence to one another, exciting 
her to newer heights.

"OOOOhhh, fuck it hard... HARDER!" she gasped, 
jackknifing her legs, pressing her knees back hard 
against her breasts, her heels pounding high on his 
back. She mumbled almost unintelligible obscene words 
and phrases, her mouth contorted with the nearing 
explosion of her orgasm, and her eyes rolled 
uncontrollably in her head.

She pulled back her thighs until the whole of her pink 
vaginal slit was presented in an offering to his 
craving cock. She squirmed beneath him, her crotch in a 
lewd, pagan dance of abandoned ecstasy. Then she gave a 
high-pitched, wild banshee howl, and she locked her 
legs around him as her loins jerked spasmodically 
against his thighs.

"PH FUCK! I'M CUMMING!" she yelled, squeezing like a 
vise against his cock. It was all he could do to 
continue screwing into her. But then he felt the 
maddened sperm in his balls rush through his scrotum 
and charge for release. He groaned and tensed his body, 
and the waves of semen gushed from the glans opening 
and poured into her wildly sucking pussy in a seemingly 
endless flow. Their bodies collapsed together on the 
patio, Isabel, little more than a limp rag beneath him, 
her cunt still locked tightly around his pumping cock. 
He lay quiet against her, allowing for his final 
draining seeds to dribble forth.

"That was beautiful," she murmured after a time. I 
haven't had such a good ride all evening."

Roger deigned to pull his wet hardness from the soft, 
warm bed of her pussy. He simply sighed and let it 
deflate within her.

***

"Come on, come on!" Randall groaned to Diane. "Fuck 
back, fuck back!"

He dug his hands into her backsides as she bucked 
beneath his pillaging Corinthian column. She made 
indistinct sounds into the couch cushions with his 
every forward lunge, and she felt as though she was 
being sodomized by a giant gorilla who was splitting 
her down the middle with his gargantuan lust-perverted 
penis.

Diane could feel him thrusting more sadistically than 
ever, the sight of her gyrating body exciting him to 
greater bestial strokes into her soft, rubbery depths. 
Her breath came hot and ragged and she droned into the 
cushion, her lips opening and closing fish-like from 
the uncontrollable feelings which surged through her.

Then, suddenly, there was another movement near her 
head and she could feel the cushion drop from the 
weight of someone descending upon it. Fingers fumbled 
with her lips and she felt a wet viscid sponginess 
being pressed to her mouth. She jerked her head up and 
stared at the long, purplish cock directly in front of 
her lips. She recalled Marc having said the man there 
was Dr. Ron Hilton. He sneered down at her without any 
physician's compassion, the bushy beard around his chin 
quivering with the lust of her enticing state.

He splayed his legs on either side of her face and 
lifted her head with the flat of his hand pushing 
against her forehead, and with the other hand he forced 
his prick into her parting mouth. He groaned and wormed 
it past her lipstick rimmed lips, and when Randall 
behind gave Diane an extra hard shove in her widespread 
anal crevice, she gasped and shot forward, impaling 
Hilton's thick cock in the wet warm grotto of her 
cheeks. She felt his hugeness slither the full length 
of her tongue and lodge against the back of her throat.

Hilton began to screw his cock deep into her mouth, his 
hands holding her head, and he quickened his thrusts 
until he was fucking her in matched time to the anal 
rape of Randall's cock. As he pulled out, he allowed a 
slight part of the swollen glans to remain between her 
lips, but then would ram again deep into the moist 
shelter with seething perversion.

"Suck, suck, suck, baby!" he commanded harshly, and her 
lips began to nibble hungrily at his thrusting 
instrument, and his balls bounced against her chin, the 
male odor of his groin filling her flaring nostrils 
with further depraved desire. He thrust so deep into 
the back of her throat his pubic hair brushed against 
her face, leaving teasing wet marks from its bristling 
touch.

Behind her Randall felt himself building toward his 
climax. His hands gripped her waist harder and he began 
to fuck her faster and faster, battering his loins 
mercilessly against the quivering moons of her 
buttocks. His breath came short, hot, and he mauled her 
flaccid cheeks with random movements. He stared down at 
her slender body as he battered her asshole violently, 
stretching her moons as far as they could spread, 
watching his cock rip into the moist pink flanges of 
her anus.

***

Roger stepped inside the living room, having left the 
now resting Isabel on the patio. His limp cock grew 
immediately as he saw the obscene and lascivious rites 
of copulation spread before him. He realized he was far 
from finished for the night that while Isabel had been 
damned good, she had not been near enough. No woman 
would have been enough to satiate his wildly inflamed 
desires this evening. Everywhere he looked there were 
nude, churning bodies undulating for completion, and he 
rubbed his penis into a full erection.

He walked toward the sun porch. Then, suddenly, his 
eyes fell upon the depraved sight of his wife and her 
two lovers on the tweed couch. He moaned involuntarily 
at seeing Diane sucking desperately at Dr. Hilton's 
penis, while Randall wildly sodomized her. He moved 
forward in perverse desire, unable to control his 
building lust at the sight. He wanted to see every 
little action, every tiny movement between his wife and 
Randall and that doctor.

Roger could scarcely breathe. His rod heaved with 
throbbing hardness. He glanced back into the living 
room at the other couples, all of whom had swapped 
their legal mates and were engaged in one form or 
another of rampant perversion. Then again he watched 
his wife on the couch, Hilton's cock shoved into her 
mouth, her head bobbing like a surrealistic yo-yo on a 
string, his prick soaring into her face until her lips 
touched his pubic hair. And Randall pulling her 
buttocks apart with his hands, her tiny tight rectum 
clenching like a rubber band around his slamming, 
jolting cock. God almighty, the orgy seemed unlimited!

He slipped down beside his wife, facing her wildly 
undulating buttocks, his eyes centered on the wide 
split crevice of her ass, fascinated by the rampaging 
cock which smashed against the quivering and unimpeded 
anus. He held his breath as the puckered pink flesh 
withdrew and then sank back again from the brutal 
thrusts; and then, delirious from the passionate view, 
he traced his fingers over her thighs, dipped them down 
and felt the soft pubic hair of her cunt. 

The wet fleece dripped over his exploring hands, oozing 
down his fingers, and Diane began to moan through her 
tightly ovalled lips. This only seemed to excite Roger 
more, and suddenly, overwhelmingly, he had to have his 
wife! He had to take her and ravage her and possess 
her, had to participate in the lewd rape of her body... 
and it was rape, even if she wasn't fighting it. The 
sight and feel had peaked his lust to a mind-blowing, 
rampant stage, and his prick bloated with the 
anticipation of adding its own debauchery.

Roger lowered his head and began to worm it face-up 
under her heavily perspiring belly, letting her soft 
warm skin beat its tattoo of sexual cadence against his 
nose. Slowly he slithered further. Diane, sensing his 
erotic presence, numbly raised herself to his questing 
head and saw her husband. Oh, God, Roger was going to 
suck her while the other two fucked her rectum and 
mouth!

His hands masturbated her voraciously throbbing cunt, 
working their way up her vaginal barricades, tickling 
the very essence of her womanhood. Then he removed his 
hand, his lips pressing the first sweet parting folds 
of her vagina. Roger's eyes opened to the searing sight 
of her pussy nuzzling his nose and lips. He probed with 
his tongue until he found the pulsing shaft of her 
miniature phallus, and then heard her choked whimper as 
he teased it with agonizing pleasure between his teeth. 

He ran his tongue around and around it, moving in the 
tempo of the salacious anal fucking Randall was giving 
her but scant inches away. He could see and hear 
Randall's cock as it surged inside her anal passage and 
deep into her rectum, and he could feel the pummeling 
Randall was giving her body; it only spurred him 
onward, massaging her slit and flailing his head from 
side to side.

Diane lolled her tongue along the base of Hilton's 
bulbous cock, wildly jerking her loins to the sensuous 
abuse the three men were performing on her. 
Ooooooohhhhhh! her mind cried, I can't think straight! 
Those feelings in my cunt and ass and mouth are driving 
me insane! Tears came to her eyes, and she shoved her 
cunt down upon Roger's agile tongue, pushing his face 
deeper into her steaming genitals.

Roger moved beneath her kneeling body again, this time 
lifting her leg and turning his own body around so that 
he, too, lay on the couch, his legs stretched out 
behind her, in between the heavily flexing thighs of 
Randall. His stiff cock brushed against Diane's warm 
moist pubic hair, and she waved her impaled buttocks 
wildly, bringing a moan of contentment from Randall's 
throat. The man sodomizing her asshole allowed her to 
lower her grinding cunt lips over her husband's animal-
like prick, and furiously Roger surged upwards, his 
rump off the couch as he rammed his cock deep within 
his wife's waiting, fire-filled pussy.

Her vagina seemed to have a suction of its own, sucking 
his hardened cock up in it to its hilt. Diane felt the 
great tool slide into her, bearing against Randall's 
hard cock, the thin membrane of her vaginal and rectal 
walls the only thing between the two parallel shafts.

And then, as if by some prearranged signal, Randall and 
Roger began to fuck her in unison until only their 
engorged glans remained inside her, Roger's held in 
place by the inner lips of her insatiable cunt, and 
Randall's held by its throat by the tight constriction 
of her stretched, sensation-filled anus. Then they 
plunged simultaneously, driving deep up inside her, 
their stiffness pushing against each other along the 
twin open channels of her writhing loins.

"More!" she groaned around Hilton's still pumping 
prick.

"MMmmmmmmm! More! Oh God, more!"

They gave her more, heaving and crashing into her with 
a rhythm that made her think of tidal waves pounding 
the Pacific Ocean shore line. Again and again they 
fucked into her in exquisite unison, their balls making 
harsh slapping sounds when they hit flesh, and the soft 
gushing sounds of fluid and lubricating seepages 
sloshing around the pink peninsula of flesh between her 
dual ravaged orifices.

Delight flowed through Diane, sending her deliriously 
into another world. She massaged the soft scrotum of 
Hilton's genitals, his hard shaft completely absorbed 
between her ovalled lips. Then she tantalized the base 
of his cock with one hand and raised her fingers so 
that she stroked his pubic hair while she sucked in 
time to the mighty pummeling she was experiencing in 
her pussy and her asshole. 

Her tongue flicked around Hilton's glans, rubbing 
against its tiny split, and the softness of her member 
twirled maddeningly around its massive tube. Hilton 
flexed his buttocks, watching the crown of her head bob 
on his cock as simultaneously she worked her buttocks 
to the relentless hammerings of the other two men.

Roger was face to face with his wife now and could 
stare up at the salacious sight of Diane's puckered 
lips sucking Hilton's massive penis. The view caused 
him to shove his loins further against his wife's cunt, 
and he watched as his sudden surge made her peel back 
her lips with delirium and cling to Hilton's cock 
grotesquely with her teeth. Then her lips closed over 
this fantastically swollen rod of hardened flesh and 
continued to suck it voraciously. It was a masterful 
sight, blurred as it was with the increased rhythm of 
their impending explosion.

Diane sensed her husband's growing excitement and began 
to suck Hilton's prick harder for his benefit. She dug 
her nails gently into the blood-engorged flesh, leaving 
thin white bloodless trails where she scraped thin 
layers of skin away.

Suddenly Randall began to howl behind her and then 
Hilton took up the wailing chant and Roger made muffled 
groans. It was time! IT WAS TIME! The perfect harmony, 
and the knowledge alone, made Diane gasp, for she too 
grew like an inflating balloon and suddenly exploded. 
The room lit in strange colors, blinding and flashing 
and mingling with the electrifying shocks of her 
climax. Her whole body seemed to drop to the depths of 
primeval carnal emotion.

Roger shot his cum deep into her pussy like some great 
rocket blasting into the black emptiness of space. He 
writhed his hips furiously, while he watched his lovely 
wife's face working to milk the juice of Hilton's 
tremendous explosion. In her rectum, Randall was 
spearing needle-thin streams of white hot sperm from 
his convulsing balls, filling her bowels with the enema 
of his great load.

Hilton continued to spurt in her mouth, and Roger was 
dazedly amazed at the number of times his wife had to 
bloat her cheeks and swallow hard, greedily, sucking on 
furiously to get every last drop of his hot delicious, 
semen. Some of the sperm dribbled from her ovalled lips 
and hung tantalizingly on her chin in coagulating 
droplets. Roger was tempted to wipe them away, but he 
was too tired, too satiated from his own release.

Diane, her climax the last to arrive, thrust her 
buttocks back on the superbly expanded shafts of her 
lovers, her every muscle contracting as though she was 
having an epileptic fit. She gulped and swallowed the 
semen of Hilton's onrushing surge, and her anal 
sphincter muscles closed around Randall's ejaculating 
penis like an angry fist. Her buttocks flexed to rock 
hardness when her orgasm hit, and her chest screamed as 
the power of her body unleashed at the moment she had 
been waiting for. There was no time, no space, nothing 
except the unbelievable pleasure of her climax. She was 
struck again and again by the spasmodic twitchings of 
every lustfully straining muscle in her body.

Gradually the three men's cocks went limp, and they 
withdrew from her. Hilton's came last, for she 
continued to nibble it thankfully, sucking the last 
vestiges of his great cum. Then he, too, slid away. 
Diane raised her head and smiled at him, then at her 
husband. She lowered her face to kiss Roger slipperily 
on the lips with the greatest tenderness he had ever 
felt.

"Jesus," Randall sighed, collapsing against the back of 
the couch.

"Yeah," groaned Hilton. "Jesus!"

"You were delightful, darling," Roger said softly into 
Diane's ear, and he drew her close with his arms locked 
possessively about her.

As sanity returned to Diane, she rolled her head over 
on Roger's chest. The thought of: Welcome to the club! 
suddenly crossed her mind.

After that, the party ran its course rapidly. Everyone 
made love to everyone else in every conceivable way by 
twos and threes and fours, but somehow it never seemed 
to reach that peak of emotional release she had 
experienced with Roger, Randall, and Dr. Hilton all 
inside her at the same time. Finally, she made her way 
to a bedroom and collapsed on the large bed and slept. 
Several other couples used the bed, some to sleep, some 
to fuck, but they didn't disturb Diane. A few sampled 
her as she dozed, licking her or emptying themselves 
between her legs, but she failed to fully awaken and 
went through the motions of intercourse almost 
automatically.

The first pink light of dawn was in the sky when Roger 
shook her awake, but she was still too sleepy, too 
fulfilled to care. He found her clothes and carried her 
tenderly outside to their car, wondering perversely how 
many men had gushed their living sperm into her sweet 
young belly this night...


EPILOG:

The hot summer sun blazed through the bedroom window, 
cascading its brilliance across the double bed, waking 
Diane from a deep sleep. She stretched her limbs 
languorously, the sun warming her body through the thin 
satin sheet, and she recollected with the haziness of 
semi-awareness the wonderful fucking Roger had given 
her the night before. It had been months since the 
evening of Marc Cord's orgiastic party, and since then, 
she and Roger had completely abandoned themselves to 
the sexual life.

There was delicious enjoyment to be found in each 
other, and Roger and she were more in love than ever; 
but they were honest with one another, admitting 
frankly that they were no longer satisfied with merely 
one another. No, they had enjoyed the pleasures of 
variety too well, too long now, to be limited by such a 
narrow scope.

Yes, everything was like a beautiful dream. The new 
house in the San Bruno hills was exactly what she had 
always wanted, and the new people she had met in the 
surrounding blocks had been marvelous and friendly--a 
few of them more than just friendly, too. And Roger was 
happy in his position with Waller, Waller, Crist and 
Maxwell, doing an excellent job for Marc, and was on 
his way to bigger and better career opportunities with 
the company. Of course, the money was nice to have, 
too; very nice. Oh yes, she could truly say she had 
everything a woman could have in this world.

Never before did I ever think of such fulfillment, 
Diane thought to herself dreamily. And my marriage is 
so perfectly wonderful now, not like it was when I was 
a silly, unenlightened prude... Thank God I found 
myself in time...

Her reverie was interrupted by Roger's entrance. He 
opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. He smiled 
at her as he approached, wiping his hands on his bright 
Bermuda shorts. He leaned over the bed and smoothed his 
hands along the sheets, then dipped under the covers 
and without warning moved his hand up along her leg to 
squeeze her naked pubic mound. "Morning, sweet-heart!" 
he grinned.

Diane shrieked, raising out of the bed in a half-
hearted attempt to escape the teasing rummaging between 
her legs. "Stop it!" she laughed.

Roger laughed with her and withdrew his hand. "Get up, 
honey. I want you to meet our new neighbors."

"You mean somebody finally bought the house across the 
street?"

"Uh-huh. I brought them over for an introductory 
drink."

Diane moistened her lips in an anticipatory way. She 
jumped out of bed and hurried to the dresser for a 
clean pair of panties and a bra. "Are... are they 
young?"

"Our age. And you should see Barbara Stinson." Roger 
made his eyes go wider and puckered his lips in a 
silent whistle to show what he thought of her.

"And Mr. Stinson?"

"You'll have to judge Jerry for yourself. He's not 
exactly my type."

She slipped on a pair of short shorts, colored a lemon 
yellow which showed off her tanned belly and legs to 
their fullest. Diane knew that they were too tight at 
the crotch, and showed almost lewdly the outline of her 
cunt lips and the valley in between. "Mmmm, well, let's 
not keep our company waiting, Roger."

Roger put his arm around his wife's waist and the two 
of them walked toward the door. "I hope you like Jerry, 
because I've got my sights on his wife." He grinned 
widely at her. "Gonna help me, baby?"

"Yes," she giggled, pressing against her husband. 
"Anything you want, I'll do, darling... and then 
some..." she added as a smiling after-thought.

The End

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 50