The Reluctant Couple

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 a****l 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 ****d 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
b**st...

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 c***dish 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! Aaggggghhhhh,
ahhhhhhhh!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then she was there!

She was cumming like a wild woman!

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

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

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

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

"What are we waiting for?"

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

With it came abject mortification.

She was sick with the knowledge of what she had just
done, of the act of carnal self-abuse that she had
performed on herself. What was the matter with her? Was
she so starved for love that she had to resort to
masturbation for satisfaction? Was this what Roger's
a****listic 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. a****l 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 s**ttered 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 ******* 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 *********t!

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 a****listic
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
******** 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 ****d 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
a****l!"

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

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

"Shut up, you bitch!" he snarled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diane could feel his fleshy cock stretch and expand
against her cheeks until it completely filled her
mouth. She had never felt so dirty, so debauched in her
life, and the one urgent thought which she tried to
find solace in was that it would soon be over. She
sucked and wriggled her lips wildly, hoping to make him
cum quicker, please him as best she could and pray that
would be all he wanted or would take. She worked in a
daze at the command of his fingers, licking and sucking
like a hungry c***d as he forced her to follow
slavelike his every thrust into the tender shelter of
her mouth. Her ravishment continued, a ceaseless ****
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 *****. 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 a****l 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 ****. Then she gave way beneath his
harsh, brutal pressure. She emitted a throaty wail.

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

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

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

His penis tore into her and sc****d 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 b**st!"

"Filthy b**st, 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 **** 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
s**ttered silverware, and then go down on her like some
demented b**st, and then **** 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 ****d by her own
husband, after being forced to perform foul, disgusting
acts of perversion, after being a... a receptacle for
pure loveless lust?"

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

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

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

The telephone rang.

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

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

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

"Oh... hi, Marc."

"How are you feeling this morning?"

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

"Good, good." Cord's voice took on a conspiratorial
quality. "Me, too, if you know what I mean. You
remember Millie?"

"Millie?"

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

Roger winced. He was unable to answer.

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

Roger looked toward the still, rigid figure of his
wife. "Marc, I don't think--"

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

"Marc--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

Why? she asked herself silently, for perhaps the
thousandth time since it had happened. What had turned
sweet, kind, gentle Roger Slater, the boy she had
fallen in love with, into a savage creature of the
primordial jungles? Was it, as he had screamed into her
pain-deafened ears in that carnal kitchen, all her
fault? No, no, how could he blame her? How could it be
her fault? How could he expect her to throw off the
shackles of her parentally instilled apprehensions at
marital sex practically overnight? Learning to accept,
to enjoy, to believe in, physical love took time; and
it took patience, trust, love and gentle understanding.
God knew, she wanted to be the kind of wife Roger
expected her to be. She really did. At least she had
until last night. Now... well, now she wasn't sure, she
just wasn't sure. She didn't know what she wanted now
at all. She was so confused, so mixed up, so hurt by
his violent attack--the final, most outrageous attack
in a long series which traced back to her wedding
night, and even beyond that to Lookout Drive--that she
was still unable to project her thoughts toward any
rational conclusion...

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

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

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

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

"Not bad," Roger answered.

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

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

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

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

"Just fine, thank you."

"Good, good!" Cord enthused. "Come on around to the
pool, k**s. 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 k**s 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, k**s."

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 und****d 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, k**s. 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 a****l sounds of abandoned joy deep in her
throat, and then she began to stroke it gently, pushing
the foreskin back, running her fingernails along the
base of his cock, along the bloated sac of his balls.
Roger felt the exquisite thrill of her manipulations
bursting through his body, and suddenly he didn't care
any more; he didn't care if Cord saw them, or if Diane
saw them, or if the whole goddamned world saw them. The
only thing that mattered was Cindy, luscious,
beautiful, desirable Cindy with her hand playing with
his genitals under the water...

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

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

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

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

"All right, baby, all right."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ooooooohhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned against his ear,
breathing liquid fire into the orifice. "Aaaaaa
gggggghhhhhh, that's it, honey, that's ittttttttt!"

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, she cried out, "Ohhhhh, God, baby, I'm...
almost there, I'm... yes, yessssss, yessssssssss,
aaaaaagggggggghhhhhh!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What for?" he asked.

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

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

"If you're a good boy," Cindy giggled, rubbing his
deflated penis lightly with the tips of her fingers, "I
might even suck you off. Would you like me to suck your
big cock, Roger?"

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

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

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


Chapter 4

"The pitcher is empty, ***********," 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 a****l, 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... a****ls!"

"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 a****l 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 c***d.

"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 d**gged supplication, and he in
turn kneeled beside her. His searing mouth and tongue
pressed hard against her pliant, now-willing lips. His
hands continued to play along her skin, slipping up and
down her inner thigh, brushing against the burning,
vibrant mound of her soft, young pussy.

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

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

Oh... God... this... this is wrong... all wrong! her
brain screamed to her, but caught in the emotional
agony of sensual desire, she could only groan and bite
her lip. Cord parted the sensitive slit of her cunt and
teased the soft, surrounding pubic hair as he made
sudden, ecstatic contact with her throbbing clitoris.
Diane sensed her own deep wetness from her ********
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.
u*********sly she flexed her warm, damp pussy toward
the cool air, and her pubic hair almost stretched from
its imprisonment inside the suit. She played her hands
down her sides with abandonment, mewling and sighing
with abject licentiousness. She spread her ivory
columned legs and tightened her stomach muscles, her
eyes still mercifully shut to her shameless actions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The remembrance of the night before and Roger's drunken
kisses upon her unprotected vagina returned to Diane
with vivid clarity. She clenched her small fists
together, her arms tight against her ribs and tried to
close her legs from Cord's assault. Her vibrant, naked
flesh crawled with the idea of the impending
perversion, but the palms of his hands were already
against the inner flesh of her thighs and were
spreading them apart ever further.

She raised her head as Marc gazed hungrily down at the
warm pink slit fringed so delicately with its soft,
golden pussy hair... Diane whimpered. She, too, could
see how her body betrayed her, for her coral flesh was
tinged with tiny, glistening droplets of desire, and
the glistening, petal-like lips of her cunt almost
cried out to the leering face of the lust-inflamed man
above. She watched petrified as slowly, deliberately,
Marc spread her secret shame-filled vagina with his
thumbs and dropped his lips to kiss the enchanted area.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She hesitated only for a moment, and then slipped her
hand between their quivering bodies and grasped his
hard, triton-sized prick in her right hand and guided
it over her full fleshy cunt lips. The rubbery head
sent stinging responses through her as it parted the
soft sparse pubic hair and touched the ragged, saliva
drenched sides of her pussy. She held her breath, for
he was directly next to the tight, gently throbbing
mouth of her vagina. She felt the first pressure of his
drive. "Ohhhh!" she breathed in helpless protest, but
the penis continued to worm forward and cruelly stretch
the elastic opening until she felt as though she were
splitting apart down between her thighs, just as she
had feared upon seeing his huge swollen penis a few
moments ago.

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

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

"Like it?" he sneered in crazed tormentation.

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

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

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

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

Then, "Oh Christ... Om my God, I'm cumming! Cumming! C-
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,
k**s?"

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
*****.

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 a****l!"

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

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

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

Diane nodded numbly.

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

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

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

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

"I'm sure," Roger said coldly.

Cord shrugged. "Think about it."

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

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


Chapter 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You fucking whore!"

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

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

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

"You goddamned well ought to be."

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

"Hell no, I'm not sorry."

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

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

"Oh Roger...!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" he asked incredulously.

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

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

"Yes! Oh Roger, yes!"

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

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

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

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

"Yes! Jesus, yes!"

He entwined his fingers in her hair and jerked her head
up, grinding his mouth down on hers, and her tongue
flashed into his mouth like a purveyor of liquid fire.
Christ, was this his wife, was this Diane? She was
actually hot, she actually wanted him! Their tongues
curled around one another, burning, flicking back and
forth, and she drew hers in and out of his mouth in the
rhythmic attitude of copulation. His hands went to her
nightie, stroking her body through the thin, wispy
material.

Her fingers on his cock were burning, burning, and he
reached down as he raised his hips to pull the cloth of
his shorts away from his blistering, fervid loins. His
monstrous, trembling penis leapt into her hand and she
consumed it as if it were something she had wanted all
her life, but had been forbidden to have until that
very moment.
"Roger!" she breathed against his mouth. "Roger, make
me naked! Rip my nightie off, Roger! Now, now, now!"

His hand closed over the neck of the silky garment,
bunching it in his fingers, then savagely he jerked
back and downward. There was a whispering, shredding
sound as it came loose in his hand, as he tore it from
her taut, hard-nippled breasts and drew it down over
her pussy, so wet now with the flowing secretions of
her expanding lust. She helped him by twisting and
undulating her body, her hand still vibrantly rubbing
his genitals, her mouth still fused hotly with his.

And then she was completely nude, and his hands were on
her breasts, kneading and manipulating her hardening
nipples until she mewled with pleasure deep in her
throat. Then his hand was moving down, down over her
stomach, through the soft golden fleece of her pubic
hair, finally touching the erect, pulsing shaft of the
miniature phallus that was her clitoris.

She whimpered in unrestrained pleasure as he massaged
the tiny, trembling bud between his thumb and
forefinger. Her loins began to grind down into the
sheets of the bed in wild, uncontrolled counterpoint to
his fingering movements down between her legs. Her head
flailed from side to side, the sensations so intense
within her that fresh new mewls of lust and excitement
erupted from her throat.

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

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

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

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

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

Her mouth left his and began to trail down along his
chest, pausing to nip gently at the erectness of his
nipples, marveling that male teats reacted under
extreme arousal much as those of a female, and then
moving down along his belly. She let her tongue flick
into the tiny, puckered opening of his navel, felt him
twist and jerk beneath her head and his hand continue
to oscillate her swollen clitoris back and forth. Then
she was poised above the hot, hard length of his cock.
Her eyes were open wide and she stared at the thin
sheen of lubricating fluid which dribbled from the
small opening in the glans, to flow down along the
shaft and cause it to shine moistly in the pale light
from the nightstand lamp. She kept staring at it, as if
hypnotized by that unseeing eye, the purplish-red,
palpitating monster which she had cradled in her hand.

It seemed to sway before her face, like a charmed
cobra, urging her mutely to come closer, come nearer.
She obeyed. Her lips were only a scant inch from the
moist, drooling head, half an inch, and then her tongue
came out with agonizing slowness and touched the
rubbery glans, touched it and began to swirl around the
opening, lapping up all the thick, sticky fluid.
Diane's brain reeled from the electric touch of her
tongue on his penis, from the salty, not unpleasant
taste of his semen. It was good, good, good. She hadn't
dreamed it would be this good! She opened her mouth
wider and took the head inside the butter-soft
interior, swirling her tongue faster and faster now
over the dripping glans, causing Roger to cry out in
pure delight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ohhhhh!" she cried. "Aaaaaaaggggghhhh!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHH!"

As he continued to hammer into her, Roger felt her cunt
walls secrete their warm gushes of wet sticky fluid
around his plundering cock, inundating his shaft and
his balls. She was cumming like he was sure she did
with Marc Cord this afternoon! With renewed urgency, he
thrust faster, deeper, with all the strength he
possessed. He felt her jerk, lurch, spasm wildly, the
mouth of her cunt sucking at him feverishly, her breath
spewing against his face in short, ragged gasps.

And then he sensed his own hot, churning sperm race the
length of his prick in incredible ecstasy, causing his
body to tremble with palsied motion as his juices
spurted from the opening in his cock far, deep, far,
deep into her violently quivering recesses... it was a
never-ending flow which caused her to moan in
spasmodic, indecipherable cries of delight as her belly
quaked with the unleashed pool of delectation he had
emptied into her...

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you mean that?"

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

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

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

"Y-you are?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, darling?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roger pondered it. "Suppose we think about it," he
said. "There'll be time enough to decide tomorrow."

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

"Well, so I am."

"Shall we?"

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

***

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

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

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

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

The telephone rang.

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

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

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

"That you're a damned desirable woman."

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

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

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

"I'm still considering it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Didn't you see Roger this morning?"

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

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

"To talk to you, of course."

"Why would you want to talk to me?"

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

"Didn't you ask Roger?"

"When I saw him, he said he was still thinking about
it," Cord told her. "I was wondering what you thought."

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

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

"What do you want to happen, Diane?"

"Why, nothing especially."

"Are you sure?"

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

Cord's breathing came a little faster over the wire.
"Diane," he whispered, "Diane, I'd like to... to fuck
you again. Like I did yesterday."

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

"Yes, damn it!"

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

"Diane..."

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

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

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

Damn, she could scarcely wait until tonight!


Chapter 6

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

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

But tonight was still another major step for her, and
as Roger neared the Peacock Gap house of Marc and Cindy
Cord, she realized that by accepting the dinner
invitation, she was going to lose the last vestiges of
her inhibitions and become devoured in the enveloping
warmth of lust for the sake of lust alone. Tonight she
was going to actively, openly participate in group sex;
there was no denying it. She was going to exchange
mates, to be yet another convert to the cult of wife-
swapping.

Wife-swapping: a horrid, indecent, disgusting word
which brought lip curls of contempt from the lips of
decent people. Wife-swapping. She mouthed the word,
letting it roll around on her tongue like a bittersweet
candy. It was exciting, and brought a delicious tingle
to Diane as she mulled over what this evening was to
bring. Yes, yes, tonight would bring Marc Cord and his
overwhelming, lovely cock and his masterful ways of
love-making. Yes, she wanted Marc, she wanted to be
swapped for him, she wanted him to fuck her...
lubricating fluids began to seep from her soft, warm
vagina and she pressed her legs together, not wanting
to make her excitement obvious to Roger.

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

She turned away from the window and stared at her
husband. "I know you do, darling," she replied softly,
"And I love you, too."

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

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

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

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

"Or... will know."

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

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

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

"You want me to stop?"

"No, no, don't stop!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's that for?" Diane asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You like champagne?" he asked.

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

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

"So am I," Diane responded. "I guess I was... pretty
shy. It was my first time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!" she groaned gutturally.
"That's what I like! Yes, yes, yesssssss, don't stop!
Don't stop!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dear God...!" Diane convulsed, her head flailing
wildly as she tensed her back in an arch. Her neck
muscles stood out like tendons, and her face screwed
into a contorted mask as a low, a****listic 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... Ohhh I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm
cumming... AAGGGHH!"

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 a****listic mating was too
great; he sank to her, drubbing her thighs with his
powerful batterings.

"OOOOOooooohhhhhh!" he heard in a husky woman's gurgle.
"That's what I like! Yes, yes, yessssss...!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's what you want, is it?" Cindy whispered next to
him. "You want to watch? Well, goddamn it, then let's
watch!"

Cindy suddenly jerked upwards, pushing Roger away. He
staggered to his feet, unsure of what she was doing,
and she took him by his still erect penis, hands
clasping the turgid rod like a walking stick, and led
him around the couch. She guided him to a spot beside
his wife, and then pulled him to the rug. His eyes
rested on the lewd, obscene performance in front of
him. God, she's hot! he thought, and his aching penis
throbbed in anticipatory lust of resuming his fucking
of Cindy. The abysmal, lascivious thought of fucking in
front of Diane while another man pumped her convulted
mouth with his huge sperm bloated cock overcame him,
and he slipped his hands around Cindy's waiting
buttocks and lowered her to his waiting prick. She
impaled herself with a mighty groan, committing sexual
hara-kiri with utter abandonment.

He gasped as Cindy, riding his gigantic, throbbing
cock, reached behind her and gently enfolded his
testicles with her fingers, and then leaned forward,
making his prick sc**** 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.

u*********sly 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 d****d 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
k** around, that's all."

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, he hasn't," Cord chuckled. "I talked to him about
it this morning." He looked at Blake, then. "Why don't
you have a seat, Ed? I think I could use a drink. How
about you?"

"Sounds good," Blake said.

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

"Just some bourbon."

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

"All right."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She pulled and tore at her binding garments, her mind
mesmeric with lust, her eyes staring hungrily at the
bulging front of Cord's now-exposed shorts. And then
she was naked, and Marc's gigantic tool, hot and
throbbing and angrily purplish, was swaying back and
forth in anticipation before her. Not bothering to
remove his shirt or tie, but stepping out of his shorts
and trousers, Cord fell back on the bed, spreading his
legs and thighs wide to allow room for her to kneel
between them. Quickly, wild with seething emotions, she
took advantage of his mute offer and knelt there, her
knees touching the hirsute flesh of his legs. She
lowered her head, her eyes feasting on her target, her
lips parting expectantly, tongue moistening their dewy
softness. Her left hand came up to stroke tenderly his
wrinkled scrotum, massage the base of his mighty prick,
and then encircle it in her hand. Suddenly, her head
darted down and her famished, wet mouth seized what it
wanted and needed, the only nourishment it cared about
at that moment. She began to suck him slowly,
agonizingly, maddeningly, running her tongue wetly
around and around the slimy, salty, lubricated head and
licking the tip teasingly into the tiny open slit of
the moist gland until she could feel it throbbing as if
it had a life of its own and would gush forward at any
second a great, never-ending fountain of creamy white
cum.

Her head bobbed up and down slavishly over the thick
shaft of flesh now, sucking harder, her tongue swirling
faster, and Cord's buttocks twisted wildly on the
bedspread. His hands wrapped themselves in the soft,
silky strands of her hair, pushing her head down over
his gigantic column. Diane could feel its dripping head
batter against the back of her throat, but she made no
move to alleviate the intense ramming pressure there,
allowing her lips to suckle maddeningly, convoluting as
she strove to draw the very essence of his being along
the passage of his great, purplish, monstrous cock.

Suddenly, Diane heard a sound--the sound of the bedroom
door opening!

Her eyes flew open, and from her position with her
mouth almost completely engulfing Cord's prick on the
bed she was able to see the doorway clearly. There,
framed in the arch, was Ed Blake. He was completely
nude, the short, rigid, chunky length of his thick cock
standing obscenely from the thick curling bristles of
his pubic hair. His flesh was milky white, unhealthy,
and his soft, doughy belly hung saggingly over his
abdomen. His eyes were wild with uncontrolled,
a****listic 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 ****d, she couldn't... and yet, there was
nothing she could do about it, nothing at all...

Blake had reached her now, his teeth still bared. Diane
felt, then, the terrible viscid touch of his sausage-
like fingers on her palpitating hips, spreading them
wide, opening the tiny puckered hole of her anus to his
lustful gaze. She tried to twist away, but Cord flexed
his hips and drove his huge rod deep against her larynx
again, impaling her above him. And then she felt the
hard, rubbery head of Blake's thick cock press against
her naked rectal opening, tease along it there, poise
at the tiny wrinkled ring.

No, no, no, no! her mind screamed. Please, no, God
nooooooo!

With brutal, sadistic lust, Blake suddenly rammed
forward, his cock soaring into her tightly virginal
asshole with savage, unmerciful force, never stopping
as it tore through the membranous passage like some
terrible ravaging machine.

"AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!" she screamed around Cord's prick.
The cry changed to strangled gasps as Cord again flexed
his buttocks to drive his invading cock deeper into the
softness of her mouth.

"Goddamn... Cord, her asshole's a cherry, sure as
hell!... Christ, I didn't expect to get me a virgin on
this deal!"

"Shut up... you bastard!" Cord panted. And then to
Diane, "Come on, honey, it's... all right. I'm sorry
I... had to do it this way but... Christ, it's business
and Cindy's away until tomorrow... Just relax, honey,
and you'll find out you like it. You'll thank me for
it... afterwards."

She tried to scream out to him, but his big cock in her
mouth forced the words to die in her throat. Her face
was contorted not only in agony, but in the shame and
humiliation of a complete stranger's insane and lewd
prick defiling her defenseless anus. He clutched
savagely at her hips and thrust his thick cock deeper
into her rectum, into the warm, forbidden depths of her
passage. The pressure of his straining thighs thrust
her forward, thrust her head down lower on Cord's hairy
belly, pushing his cock deeper still into her mouth.

"Aaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhhh!" she cried out again.

"Come on, baby!" Cord encouraged. "Keep sucking me,
keep sucking me!"

Involuntarily, almost defensively, her lips began
nibbling at the huge, fleshy surface of his bloated
cock, tasting on her tongue the dribbling seminal fluid
which escaped the tiny glans opening. Behind her, Blake
was thrusting forward with great sawing strokes, making
bestial sounds deep in the fat recesses of his throat
as his fleshy rod continued its forward invasion,
pushing the rubbery, resistant flesh before it until
finally, with one last lunge that flattened his loins
against her sweat-slick buttocks, he had sunk every
last thick inch of his cock into her warm, constricting
anus.

Her mouth worked harder and faster on Cord's prick now,
suckling it wildly. His hips churned and rotated
abandonedly on the bed, his fingers working
convulsively in her hair as the moment of his building
orgasm drew near. Blake's balls smacked loudly against
the wet, drooling lips of Diane's vaginal orifice below
as his loins ground mercilessly against her full, firm
ass cheeks. Then he drew his wide rod out slightly,
watching with bated breath as the wet base appeared
before his eyes, the head still sunk between the wide,
tight-stretched oval opening. He moaned, and thrust
inward again, his breath coming faster. A gasp of total
lust escaped his throat, and he began sawing
rhythmically in and out, deep down into the warm
clasping channel.

And in that moment, the pain and the terror and the
humiliation began to leave Diane's body and mind, to be
replaced with something else, something far more base:
sexual arousal. Her hips began to grind backward as her
anal passage grew accustomed to the turgid pole
imbedded there, and she was suddenly, wonderfully,
reveling in the lewd sodomizing of her asshole. Her
head was flailing from side to side, her lips wildly
sucking on Cord's prick as her jerking head bent it
maddeningly from side to side. Oh God, she thought, Oh
God, I do like it, Marc was right, I do like it, I like
that ugly man's cock in my asshole, I like Marc's prick
in my mouth, oh God I never dreamed anything this
perverted could feel so wonderful and good...

Then she was buffeting back against Blake's driving
cock like a rutting a****l, as she felt the first
tentative waves of her climax seize hold of her. Her
lips swirled faster and faster and faster up and down,
around and around, the near-exploding hardness of
Cord's prick. She was mewling in total pleasure,
letting her own cum build in direct cadence with Cord's
and with Blake's, knowing it wouldn't be long now,
wouldn't be long...

Blake gave a sudden, high-pitched squeal and his
pummeling shaft drove forward even harder, working
demon-like with its long, brutal strokes into her
rectum. "I'm... I'm going to... to
ccccuuuuuuummmmmmmm!" he yelped.

"Oh Jesus... yes, mee... mee too!" Cord cried out, his
body twisting and thrashing beneath Diane's madly
sucking lips.

Oh God, and so... so am I! Diane's brain screamed.
Oooooohhhhhh, yesssssss, I'm... cumming too...
cumminnnnggggg, 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 **** 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 c***d 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, k**s!" he enthused, pulling the door open
and waving them in. "Party's going good, now. Damned
good, s'matter of fact."

They followed him inside. It was dark in the large
living room, with only indirect ceiling lights to
illuminate the dimness. Diane saw that there were a lot
of ornate Chinese lanterns in a variety of colors
decorating the ceiling. There were three couples in the
room, all nude. Two of the couples were dancing to soft
music from some hidden stereo, and both men had
stiffened cocks. On the couch, another man was lying
with his lips pressed between the widespread thighs of
a red-haired girl; she was massaging his prick
rhythmically as he licked the softness of her cunt.

Diane felt aroused sensations churn through her at the
lewd sight, and then Cord grabbed her and pulled her up
tight against his erect cock, rubbing it along her
belly through the thin material of her shift. She
shuddered, beginning to move her own pelvis in time to
his rotations.

"Some party, eh, kitten?" he whispered in her ear. "But
you already guessed what it'd be, didn't you?"

"Yes, Marc, I guessed."

He laughed. "Well, c'mon, get with it. Get outta those
clothes and let it all hang out!"

He released her, and Diane--with no trace of guilt or
shame now--quickly took off the shift to expose her own
trembling nakedness. She saw that Roger did the same,
tossing his clothes along with hers onto a large pile
of garments by the door. Cord drank in Diane's beauty
with his eyes, licked his lips, and then waved Roger
and her out onto the sun porch.

Cindy was making drinks at the bar, and she squealed
when she saw Roger and rushed toward him, her naked
breasts bobbing wildly. She kissed him hotly and took
his hand and pressed it down to her moist cunt, taking
his middle finger and insinuating it into her pulsating
slit. "Glad you came, honey," she breathed heavily in a
drunken drawl.

Cord fixed Roger and Diane a drink. In the doorway, he
pointed to one of the dancing couples--a tall, gray-
haired man and a tiny, brunette with huge, swaying
breasts--and said, "That's Randall Anderson and his
wife, Shirley. He's a bigwig with a bank in San
Francisco." Then he indicated the second couple, a
medium-sized man with a straggly black beard and a
lithe blonde girl with a huge bushy pubic triangle, as
a prominent San Rafael physician, Doctor Ron Hilton and
Isabel Ziniwall. The red-haired girl who was having her
cunt licked on the couch turned out to be Jolene
Hilton, the doctor's wife; the man was Reg Wilcox, a
local real estate agent. There was one other couple
present: Isabel Ziniwall's husband, Norman, who was a
copywriter for a San Francisco advertising agency, and
Wilcox's wife, Patti, a pert black-haired woman with
curvaceously slim legs. They were lying near the pool,
caressing one another, and Ziniwall's lips were locked
over the turgid nipple of her right breast while her
hand stroked his long, thin cock and toyed with his
swelling balls.

Marc, the introductions and amenities having been
performed, then left Roger and Diane to move into the
living room. He stepped up to the dancing Anderson
couple, whirled Shirley away from her husband, and
backed her up against one wall. He lifted her right leg
with one and used the other to guide his huge, blue-
veined cock into the wide, soft slit between her legs,
and then rammed his great weapon home. Shirley Anderson
gasped with delight, and began to use the wall as a
springboard for her hips and she fucked back against
his burgeoning tool with long, easy strokes.

Cindy pulled Roger into the other room, intending to
usurp Jolene Hilton and Reg Wilcox from their positions
on the couch; but before she could, Doctor Hilton left
Isabel and grabbed Cindy and pulled her down onto the
soft buff carpet. He began forcing his hard, leaking
cock against her lips. She didn't resist, opening her
lips wide to accept his invading monster, nibbling at
it gently and hungrily. Roger knelt beside them, and
Cindy reached out and grasped his own erect penis and
began to stroke it lightly as she sucked the doctor's
rod, he straddling her breasts.

Diane was left all alone.

But not for long.


Chapter 8

Diane felt warm and sensitive all over, and her pussy
was secreting the fluids of her desire down her inner
thighs. She knew that with all this going on around her
she was going to be fucked and fucked hard very
quickly...

Suddenly soft hands wrapped around her, squeezing her
breasts from behind, fingers roughly kneading the
nipples. Diane looked down, surprised. She had wanted
Marc first, but saw her nipples grow hard and erect
under the pressure. Someone kissed her on the neck, on
the shoulders. And she shivered as she turned and
recognized the man as the sneaky looking Randall
Anderson. He smiled crookedly at her, running his
fingers from her breasts down to the pink, dilating
cunt lips of her inflamed crotch. She groaned in
protest at the sudden, familiar contact, but in spite
of her revulsion she didn't try to stop him or pull
away.

She looked down at his cock, which was fully erect and
pressing against her belly like some conqueror's
standard. Her face contorted with a slight revulsion at
its sight, for Randall's member wasn't the beautiful
thing Roger's or Marc's were; his was monstrous and
webbed all along the shaft with heavy, throbbing blue
veins, giving grim advance warning of the lustful state
he was in.

"Like it, honey?" Randall grinned lopsidedly at her.

She tried to answer, but her voice seemed caught in her
throat. "Yes, yes, I like it," she finally managed,
knowing he was going to get it from her anyway.

"Good, because I'm going to put it up your cunt like a
ramrod. It's going to go so far in that you'll be able
to taste it all the way up in your throat," he said,
his grin turning to a full smile of overwhelming lust.

Randall pressed against her then, forcing Diane back
against the porch's tweed couch. She dropped to it,
sitting with her legs together, staring fearful up at
Randall, who looked down at her with eyes like fiery
coals. His long cock had rarely ached as it did now,
and he lowered himself to her, pushing her back, his
face pressed in the soft, clean odor of her long blonde
hair.

"Spread your legs, honey. I can't fuck you with them
together." He thought that was funny and he laughed,
his knees slowly and relentlessly forcing her legs
apart, her toes hanging over the edge as she adjusted
herself to his body. She gave up all thought of modesty
or of caring whether she truly desired this man,
knowing that resistance would be futile. A soft moan
escaped her lips as she felt the hardness of his huge,
bloated cock make warm, wet contact with the soft inner
flesh of her thighs. Randall moved forward, insinuating
the full length of his member along the narrow, wide-
stretched crevice of her crotch, her shoulders pinned
to the cushions, her buttocks squirming and twisting
beneath him, inciting his lust to the fullest.

"No, wait!" Randall said suddenly. "I want you in the
ass! Yeah, that's it. I want to shove my prick in your
sweet little asshole. Turn over!"

Diane stiffened and a faint dizziness overtook her,
making her gulp desperately for air.

"Go on, turn over!"

She moved slowly, unsurely, but did as he bid, tears of
frustration and anger beginning to well up in her eyes.
There was no escape. There was only the rigid dripping
cock of the thin little man behind her, and it was
quivering with the anticipation of the salacious attack
it was about to render.

Randall's hand pulled her hips up off the couch, while
his other hand steadied her back, pressing her head to
the cushion. Her buttocks waved defenselessly in the
air, and for a moment Diane tried to press forward and
drop them from their lewd height, but he pushed her
neck down. Diane gave up any struggle. Her body was a
helpless toy for this man to use in his a****listic
quest for satisfaction... satisfaction that would only
cease when he had shot his load of hot steamy desire
deep within her soft, resilient body.

Randall gaped at the ivory moons of her cream-white
buttocks as they stretched before him like a sacrifice
to uncontrolled lasciviousness. God, he had never seen
anything like it before! His balls tingled and he
hardly could wait to feel her squirm and cry beneath
him; the thought sent sensations of desire racing
through his groin like an electrical charge.

He ground the head of his huge, purplish cock along the
narrow valley of her defenseless ass, pressing the soft
cheeks around it like a quivering sandwich of flesh.
Then he leaned forward and kissed the ridges of her
backbone, ran his lips along the small of her back.
Diane groaned slightly and trembled from the wet
contact at both places. He leaned back and dipped his
head, running his long pink tongue up and down the full
length of the crevice, between the globoid cheeks of
her soft buttocks.

He dropped still lower, his thumbs on either side of
her straining backside and spread her hillocks until
the corded muscles of her inner thighs slowly relaxed,
bit by bit. Diane had geared her mind for brutality,
pain and humiliation. But this was soft and pleasant
and wonderful, and she found that she enjoyed this
man's touch, as different as it was from Marc's or
Roger's ministrations, and the caressing of her inner
thighs and buttocks and his lapping tongue at the door
of her bowels made her sigh with sudden perverted
wantonness.

Randall crouched until his face was in line with the
blood-engorged folds of her vagina. As he watched, the
red lips throbbed once and parted of their own volition
and he could see the moistness which was forming on the
smooth white sides of her inner thighs. Diane teasingly
eased her rear farther back to him and spread her legs
to open her private parts to his salacious view.

He moved forward, his face but an inch from the soft
pubic hair which was like a beard around the mouth of
her now slippery cunt and the odor in his nostrils was
one of sweetness that drifted up from her flowering
cavern. He breathed hard and blew softly into her. She
groaned and squirmed, the pink, smooth flesh glistening
from her secretions. The lessening of her fear had been
like a release of some great weight upon her mind, and
she sighed, letting Randall's feather-like touch work
her into a sexual frenzy. She felt the rising howl of
passion building deep in her belly, in her very soul.

Then there was a hot, exciting rush of air as he blew
between her spreading globes again. Reflexively she
clenched her thighs together, but then her buttocks
relaxed as a feeling of great enrapturement overtook
her. Her behind had never felt so open, so naked, so
wet before, and there were a thousand small furry
a****ls 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 b**st.

"Oooooo-hhhhhhhh!" she crooned, her body and mind lost
to the completely uncontrolled sensations of his
sucking, and her cunt flowed and saliva and vaginal
lubrication juices mingled and trickled down her legs.
Randall could sense her impending cum by the wild,
abandoned tempo of her thrashing buttocks, and he knew
that it was time to ram his seething cock into the
innocent softness of her rectum. He wanted to have her
climax with his long thick prick inside her belly, and
he wanted to explode his cum into her bowels to the
rhythm of her own fulfillment.

He slithered to his knees, aching with anticipation,
working his hips into the glistening wetness of her
loins, pressing himself tightly to the open crack of
her ass. He held his palpitating cock tightly between
his fingers, its angry blood-red head poised
mercilessly before the tight elastic opening of her
anus. He taunted her until her whimpers drifted back to
him, running the head insinuatingly around the tiny
puckered opening. Then he introduced the massive head
into her saliva-coated channel, constantly pressuring
until its entire length was submerged by slow,
tormenting inches into the depths of her bowels.

Randall slowly withdrew his prick and then wormed his
way back in, his invading monster ripping away at her
entrails. He could feel his foreskin being peeled back,
and he looked down with crazy delight at her pink-
ribbed hole as it puckered around his massive cock. And
he gave a quick, hip-thrusting stab.

"AAAAAGGGggghhh!" she suddenly screamed, trying to pull
away. "It hurts! God, nooooooo! Pleeeez!"

Randall grinned excitedly, held her tight in a bear hug
and rammed his monstrous cock deeper, harder.

"Push back!" he commanded.

"No, no, it's too big!", Her whole body was racked with
agony at his sudden onslaught, and her anal passage
felt like some excavated tunnel basted with huge
supports. His vicious penis surged further, solid and
painful, until she had absorbed all of him, until there
was no more.

"Oh, ohhh, ohhhhh!" she groaned, but pushed back she
did. Randall began to saw mercilessly, crooning with
delight. Diane dug her nails into her palm as the pain
eased, and she felt strangely wet and open back between
her buttocks. Abruptly she began to feel a masochistic
mixture of pain and joy. She realized she was beginning
to respond, to heave backwards to meet his forward
thrusts, and she undulated her body and moved her
mooned buttocks in tiny circles. "Oh yes, oh yesssss!"
she hissed. "Fuck my ass, fuck my ass!"

He gouged deeper, the pressure on his cock tight and
exhilarating, promising to draw his hot sperm from his
balls like a monstrous vacuuming hose.

Diane reached behind her and stroked his swinging balls
as they slapped against her hair covered cunt lips. She
found enjoyment in the touch of his wrinkled sac and
began to work her thumb against her own clitoris as she
caressed him, moving in time to his buried penis. Her
complexion was flushed, and her teeth were bared back
with the tantalizing explosions in her rectal passage.
Her long hair was strewn over the settee like a mad
woman's. Dear God! She was hopelessly, marvelously,
madly impaled!

***

"You want to fuck me?" Isabel Ziniwall asked.

"Yes, God, I want to!" Roger answered, the lewd words
of the woman exciting him more.

"Then tell me," she breathed.

"I want to fuck you!"

"Oh God," she moaned. "Fuck me deep and hard, lover
man!"

He rose from the pool-side deck chair, where he had
gone with Isabel after leaving Cindy and Dr. Hilton,
and stood over her, his cock standing in naked erection
in front of him. She looked up from her sitting
position on the patio and smiled lewdly. "I'm going to
like that inside me, twisting in my cunt." She raised a
searching hand and stroked his blood-soaked shaft. "Oh,
God, how I want you to fuck me!"

He lay down beside her, dragging her over to him, then
he cupped her buttocks with his hands, massaging and
kneading the soft flesh, the warm hole of enchantment
buried between her legs. She was beautifully shaped,
her legs and thighs long and sinewy, and her body was
warm and provocative against him. She raised her face
and locked their mouths together as she reached down
between them for his hard penis. Her odor was
maddening, a perfume he was not familiar with but which
reminded him dimly of roses. Her lips were gentle but
urgent, a rubbery softness which sent chills racing
along his spine. The firm surface of her teeth yielded
to his exploring tongue.

Suddenly she ground her pelvis tightly to him and
pulled him over on top of her, spreading her thighs and
raising her legs in order to take his lust-stiffened
cock inside her. She arched off the patio and pulled
her vaginal lips back with her fingertips so that her
slit lay nakedly exposed to his throbbing cock. She
began to slide up and down the length of him, her soft
silky hair parting for the pulsating head, and then she
lurched upwards with a sudden cruel thrust which
impaled her agonizingly on his great instrument.

"Oooooh!" she moaned beneath him. "Fuck me, fuck me!"

He felt the warm sheath of her hot cunt slip wetly
along his sensitive shaft, and his cock raced to her
full depths, battering against her cervix, her
lubrication making wet slurping sounds which
intensified his lust. His balls slapped hard against
the tiny puckered hole of her anus.

Isabel screamed a low, throaty, a****l-like cry,
pushing and shoving harder against his groin. He
reached under her and between her buttocks while he
drove his rampaging cock into her pliant cunt, and
stretched the crevice of her ass, searching with his
fingertip for her anus. A river of warm fluids ran down
her thighs and buttocks and moistened the tiny ring,
lubricating it as he probed for a moment with his
finger. He pushed hard, feeling it give, and then his
finger slid in with a soft plopping sound. She jumped
forward on his sawing cock, almost slithering backward
on her spine.

"Aaaaaaggggg!" she yelled. "It hurts, it hurts! But I
want more! More!" She screwed her buttocks back on his
finger. "I want it, I want all of you!"

Roger felt the thin wall of flesh which separated the
underside of his cock from his skewering finger. He
began to rotate his finger, easing it further into her
rectum until his palm was flat against her soft, pliant
ass. She caught the rhythm and opened her legs yet
wider to give him greater access to the ravishment of
her loins. Roger's penis grew and expanded inside her
until she thought it was going to burst from the
exquisite pleasure building in his testicles. His
climax wasn't far away, and with a frenzy he rammed his
prick and finger in cadence to one another, exciting
her to newer heights.

"OOOOhhh, fuck it hard... harrrrdddd!" she gasped,
jackknifing her legs, pressing her knees back hard
against her breasts, her heels pounding high on his
back. She mumbled almost unintelligible obscene words
and phrases, her mouth contorted with the nearing
explosion of her orgasm, and her eyes rolled
uncontrollably in her head.

She pulled back her thighs until the whole of her pink
vaginal slit was presented in an offering to his
craving cock. She squirmed beneath him, her crotch in a
lewd, pagan dance of abandoned ecstasy. Then she gave a
high-pitched, wild banshee howl, and she locked her
legs around him as her loins jerked spasmodically
against his thighs.

"I'm cuuuuuummmmiiiiinnnngggg!" she yelled, squeezing
like a vise against his cock. It was all he could do to
continue screwing into her. But then he felt the
maddened sperm in his balls rush through his scrotum
and charge for release. He groaned and tensed his body,
and the waves of semen gushed from the glans opening
and poured into her wildly sucking pussy in a seemingly
endless flow. Their bodies collapsed together on the
patio, Isabel, little more than a limp rag beneath him,
her cunt still locked tightly around his pumping cock.
He lay quiet against her, allowing for his final
draining seeds to dribble forth.

"That was beautiful," she murmured after a time. I
haven't had such a good ride all evening."

Roger deigned to pull his wet hardness from the soft,
warm bed of her pussy. He simply sighed and let it
deflate within her.

***

"Come on, come on!" Randall groaned to Diane. "Fuck
back, fuck back!"

He dug his hands into her backsides as she bucked
beneath his pillaging Corinthian column. She made
indistinct sounds into the couch cushions with his
every forward lunge, and she felt as though she was
being sodomized by a giant gorilla who was splitting
her down the middle with his gargantuan lust-perverted
penis.

Diane could feel him thrusting more sadistically than
ever, the sight of her gyrating body exciting him to
greater bestial strokes into her soft, rubbery depths.
Her breath came hot and ragged and she droned into the
cushion, her lips opening and closing fish-like from
the uncontrollable feelings which surged through her.

Then, suddenly, there was another movement near her
head and she could feel the cushion drop from the
weight of someone descending upon it. Fingers fumbled
with her lips and she felt a wet viscid sponginess
being pressed to her mouth. She jerked her head up and
stared at the long, purplish cock directly in front of
her lips. She recalled Marc having said the man there
was Dr. Ron Hilton. He sneered down at her without any
physician's compassion, the bushy beard around his chin
quivering with the lust of her enticing state.

He splayed his legs on either side of her face and
lifted her head with the flat of his hand pushing
against her forehead, and with the other hand he forced
his prick into her parting mouth. He groaned and wormed
it past her lipstick rimmed lips, and when Randall
behind gave Diane an extra hard shove in her widespread
anal crevice, she gasped and shot forward, impaling
Hilton's thick cock in the wet warm grotto of her
cheeks. She felt his hugeness slither the full length
of her tongue and lodge against the back of her throat.

Hilton began to screw his cock deep into her mouth, his
hands holding her head, and he quickened his thrusts
until he was fucking her in matched time to the anal
**** 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 **** of her body...
and it was ****, 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 a****l-
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 sc****d thin
layers of skin away.

Suddenly Randall began to howl behind her and then
Hilton took up the wailing chant and Roger made muffled
groans. It was time! IT WAS TIME! The perfect harmony,
and the knowledge alone, made Diane gasp, for she too
grew like an inflating balloon and suddenly exploded.
The room lit in strange colors, blinding and flashing
and mingling with the electrifying shocks of her
climax. Her whole body seemed to drop to the depths of
primeval carnal emotion.

Roger shot his cum deep into her pussy like some great
rocket blasting into the black emptiness of space. He
writhed his hips furiously, while he watched his lovely
wife's face working to milk the juice of Hilton's
tremendous explosion. In her rectum, Randall was
spearing needle-thin streams of white hot sperm from
his convulsing balls, filling her bowels with the enema
of his great load.

Hilton continued to spurt in her mouth, and Roger was
dazedly amazed at the number of times his wife had to
bloat her cheeks and swallow hard, greedily, sucking on
furiously to get every last drop of his hot delicious,
semen. Some of the sperm dribbled from her ovalled lips
and hung tantalizingly on her chin in coagulating
droplets. Roger was tempted to wipe them away, but he
was too tired, too satiated from his own release.

Diane, her climax the last to arrive, thrust her
buttocks back on the superbly expanded shafts of her
lovers, her every muscle contracting as though she was
having an epileptic fit. She gulped and swallowed the
semen of Hilton's onrushing surge, and her anal
sphincter muscles closed around Randall's ejaculating
penis like an angry fist. Her buttocks flexed to rock
hardness when her orgasm hit, and her chest screamed as
the power of her body unleashed at the moment she had
been waiting for. There was no time, no space, nothing
except the unbelievable pleasure of her climax. She was
struck again and again by the spasmodic twitchings of
every lustfully straining muscle in her body.

Gradually the three men's cocks went limp, and they
withdrew from her. Hilton's came last, for she
continued to nibble it thankfully, sucking the last
vestiges of his great cum. Then he, too, slid away.
Diane raised her head and smiled at him, then at her
husband. She lowered her face to kiss Roger slipperily
on the lips with the greatest tenderness he had ever
felt.

"Jesus," Randall sighed, collapsing against the back of
the couch.

"Yeah," groaned Hilton. "Jesus!"

"You were delightful, darling," Roger said softly into
Diane's ear, and he drew her close with his arms locked
possessively about her.

As sanity returned to Diane, she rolled her head over
on Roger's chest. The thought of: Welcome to the club!
suddenly crossed her mind.

After that, the party ran its course rapidly. Everyone
made love to everyone else in every conceivable way by
twos and threes and fours, but somehow it never seemed
to reach that peak of emotional release she had
experienced with Roger, Randall, and Dr. Hilton all
inside her at the same time. Finally, she made her way
to a bedroom and collapsed on the large bed and slept.
Several other couples used the bed, some to sleep, some
to fuck, but they didn't disturb Diane. A few sampled
her as she dozed, licking her or emptying themselves
between her legs, but she failed to fully awaken and
went through the motions of intercourse almost
automatically.

The first pink light of dawn was in the sky when Roger
shook her awake, but she was still too sleepy, too
fulfilled to care. He found her clothes and carried her
tenderly outside to their car, wondering perversely how
many men had gushed their living sperm into her sweet
young belly this night...


Chapter 9

The hot summer sun blazed through the bedroom window,
cascading its brilliance across the double bed, waking
Diane from a deep sleep. She stretched her limbs
languorously, the sun warming her body through the thin
satin sheet, and she recollected with the haziness of
semi-awareness the wonderful fucking Roger had given
her the night before. It had been months since the
evening of Marc Cord's orgiastic party, and since then,
she and Roger had completely abandoned themselves to
the sexual life. There was delicious enjoyment to be
found in each other, and Roger and she were more in
love than ever; but they were honest with one another,
admitting frankly that they were no longer satisfied
with merely one another. No, they had enjoyed the
pleasures of variety too well, too long now, to be
limited by such a narrow scope.

Yes, everything was like a beautiful dream. The new
house in the San Bruno hills was exactly what she had
always wanted, and the new people she had met in the
surrounding blocks had been marvelous and friendly--a
few of them more than just friendly, too. And Roger was
happy in his position with Waller, Waller, Crist and
Maxwell, doing an excellent job for Marc, and was on
his way to bigger and better career opportunities with
the company. Of course, the money was nice to have,
too; very nice. Oh yes, she could truly say she had
everything a woman could have in this world.

Never before did I ever think of such fulfillment,
Diane thought to herself dreamily. And my marriage is
so perfectly wonderful now, not like it was when I was
a silly, unenlightened prude... Thank God I found
myself in time...

Her reverie was interrupted by Roger's entrance. He
opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. He smiled
at her as he approached, wiping his hands on his bright
Bermuda shorts. He leaned over the bed and smoothed his
hands along the sheets, then dipped under the covers
and without warning moved his hand up along her leg to
squeeze her naked pubic mound. "Morning, sweet-heart!"
he grinned.

Diane shrieked, raising out of the bed in a half-
hearted attempt to escape the teasing rummaging between
her legs. "Stop it!" she laughed.

Roger laughed with her and withdrew his hand. "Get up,
honey. I want you to meet our new neighbors."

"You mean somebody finally bought the house across the
street?"

"Uh-huh. I brought them over for an introductory
drink."

Diane moistened her lips in an anticipatory way. She
jumped out of bed and hurried to the dresser for a
clean pair of panties and a bra. "Are... are they
young?"

"Our age. And you should see Barbara Stinson." Roger
made his eyes go wider and puckered his lips in a
silent whistle to show what he thought of her.

"And Mr. Stinson?"

"You'll have to judge Jerry for yourself. He's not
exactly my type."

She slipped on a pair of short shorts, colored a lemon
yellow which showed off her tanned belly and legs to
their fullest. Diane knew that they were too tight at
the crotch, and showed almost lewdly the outline of her
cunt lips and the valley in between. "Mmmm, well, let's
not keep our company waiting, Roger."

Roger put his arm around his wife's waist and the two
of them walked toward the door. "I hope you like Jerry,
because I've got my sights on his wife." He grinned
widely at her. "Gonna help me, baby?"

"Yes," she giggled, pressing against her husband.
"Anything you want, I'll do, darling... and then
some..." she added as a smiling after-thought.

The End