BB-202  The Boss's Wife
(Mande Woljar)


CHAPTER I 

Joan Welby ran more hot water into the bathtub as the transparent 
rainbow-colored tiny spheres of her bubble-bath popped all around her, then 
leaned back luxuriously to savor the sensation of the renewed heat 
penetrating every pore of her relaxed body. She slid down lower in the tub 
until the bubble-topped hot water covered all but the upper slopes of her 
delightfully full, firm white breasts, each adorned with a ruby-like pouting 
nipple. 

Joan stiffened her long, slender legs against the tub and raised her body 
partway above the snowdrift of bubbles partly concealing it. She arched her 
back until the smoothly rounded surface of her glistening sleek belly broke 
the surface, dipping downward to the slightly protruding mound at its base, 
a mound decorated with a profusion of light blonde hair matching exactly the 
luxuriant growth on Joan's head. 

Bridging her shoulders, Joan lifted first one leg and then the other as she 
sought to bring more of her own secret flesh into view, much as she had done 
in the days when a fifteen-year-old tomboy in a small southern town had 
suddenly experienced the delicious budding, swelling, and rounding of her 
own hitherto ignored girl-flesh. At twenty-five, Joan was sure she had lost 
none of the superlatively desirable figure that her husband Harry had been 
unable to keep his hands off almost from their first date. 

A frown creased her smooth forehead. 

She might have lost none of her eye-catching qualities in masculine company, 
but she surely wasn't catching Harry's eye as much as formerly. In point of 
fact, even though she didn't like to admit it to herself, he had been 
neglecting her shamefully. Too often these days she thought back longingly 
to the first year of their marriage, when the homecoming husband often 
delayed dinner while he practiced his homework upon his contentedly 
acquiescent young wife. Sometimes they never made it to the second floor 
bedroom, but indulged in their carnal delights upon the living room sofa or 
even occasionally upon the carpeting. 

Joan sighed unconsciously. It had been a long time since Harry had been that 
impetuous, although she certainly didn't know why. All the physical aspects 
he had explored with such gratified gusto still awaited him, ripely 
abundant, eagerly anticipant, ardently incandescent. She sank down into the 
soothing hot water again, her right hand frankly covering her mound as her 
finger dipped lightly between her thighs and teased her pussy-lips. A shiver 
rippled through her. She shouldn't get herself worked up like that. 

She shouldn't be spoiling the evening ahead by any such gloomy thoughts, 
either. She and Harry were to be the guests at a nightclub party celebrating 
Harry's upcoming promotion to junior partner in his law firm. The party 
hosts were to be Tom and Alice Carter, good friends in addition to the fact 
that Tom was Harry's immediate boss in the law office. The Carters knew how 
much the promotion meant to the younger Wel-bys. With the promotion in hand 
and a night on the town to celebrate, Joan thought wistfully, Harry might 
not turn his back upon her brusquely in bed that night and unceremoniously 
go to sleep. 

Alice Carter had extended the invitation. "Tom thinks we might take in a 
couple of the bottomless joints on Broadway in North Beach after dinner," 
she mentioned. The Welbys lived in San Francisco, the Carters farther out in 
Marin County. 

Joan had giggled at the news. "I wonder why it is men feel they have to 
spend money for that sort of thing when all they have to do is tell us to 
take our panties down, Alice?" 

"The idea of something strange, I imagine," Alice replied. "And as long as 
Tom desires to see my bottom with some degree of frequency, I really don't 
begrudge him a few peeps, you know." 

"Oh, I feel exactly the same way!" Joan said hastily. She knew that Alice 
was very much in love with Tom, much as she was with Harry. Tom Carter was 
older and very much a man of the world. Joan knew that Alice was thirty-five 
and Tom a couple of years older. She had never mentioned it to Harry, but 
privately she considered Tom Carter to be a strong-minded, self-centered 
man, almost a bit overbearing at times. Once or twice Joan had caught him 
gazing at her with a speculative look in his hooded eyes that she had found 
almost frightening. She had to remind herself that Tom and Alice Carter were 
their best friends. 

Joan wasn't quite as sanguine about the bottomless night club expedition as 
she had let on to Alice. She considered herself moderately sophisticated, 
but strong traces of her church-oriented, family-directed upbringing in the 
small southern town of her youth still remained with her. At college she had 
hsd only one sexual experience before meeting Harry, and that one 
disappointingly squalid. Harry's ardency had almost caused a rift in their 
relationship, before 

Joan reminded herself firmly that it was no longer 1910 and that in fact she 
didn't want to deny this handsome young man the titillating liberties he 
sought to take. There was the scary thought that she might have lost Harry 
completely if she had kept on saying no. 

The ringing of the telephone in the bedroom broke into her thoughts. She 
scrambled from the tub hurriedly, careful not to slip, threw on an old robe 
which blotted some of the moisture from her sweet-scented flesh, and hurried 
to the bedside phone, trailing water drops. Without knowing why, she had an 
indefinable feeling that it was Harry calling her. 

"Hello?" she said, cradling the phone between chin and shoulder while she 
draped the sodden gown to reveal a little less frontal exposure before 
remembering there was no one present. 

"It's me, Joan," Harry's voice said in the husky, half-intimate manner that 
was almost a vocal signature with him. When Joan was really in the mood 
sometimes, Harry's voice alone could create goose bumps upon her most 
intimate flesh. "Pack a bag for me," he continued. "I'm leaving for San 
Diego in an hour." 

"Oh, no, Harry!" Joan wailed. "Not tonight!" 

"Can't be helped," he said. "One of the old bags whose account I've been 
managing has decided she has to have an immediate conference. Thank God that 
after the promotion takes effect someone else will be drawing those details. 

I'll be home in half an hour." 

Joan heard the click of the receiver. Why did it have to turn out like this, 
she thought? Harry had been away from her so much lately. He had been 
working sixteen hour days ever since her illness a year ago, she remembered 
guiltily. She had recovered fully, but the medical and hospital bills had 
been enormous. She had never dared ask where the money had come from to take 
care of them. But it was mean that their celebratory party should be broken 
up like this. 

She returned to the bathroom and removed the last of the bubble bath under 
the shower. Drying herself with a huge fluffy towel before patting on body 
powder, she could see herself in the full-length mirror on the inside of the 
bathroom door. The full, tiptilted breasts jiggled lightly as she 
manipulated the towel. Her rounded belly flowed into the juncture of her 
gleaming plump thighs. She turned around and considered her wide-flaring 
soft buttocks below the slender stalk of her waist, and she sighed again. 
Those dimpled hind cheeks looked made to be cuddled, but it wasn't to happen 
tonight. Resentfully she flung the towel aside, and, still nude, went into 
the bedroom to pack Harry's overnight bag. Sometimes it seemed as though the 
middle-aged wealthy widows who made up the bulk of Harry's 
portfolio-managing accounts demanded his services at deliberately 
inconvenient times. 

Joan dressed finally and went downstairs. 

She pushed the provocative evening gown she had expected to wear to the back 
of the closet and put on a simple housedress. She was in the tiny kitchen of 
their little home when she heard the front door open. "Are you decent, 
Joan?" Harry's voice called. "Tom's with me." 

Mingled with her disappointment that Harry wasn't alone-she had hoped to 
have at least a few minutes with him before he had to leave-Joan had to 
smile inwardly at the connotation contained in his question. In the second 
year of their marriage Joan had watched Harry drive up to their house and 
park, and impulsively decided to surprise him. She turned away from the 
window and stripped completely except for shoes and stockings, then naked, 
listened for his footstep at the door. 

When she heard it, she flung the door open, presenting herself brazenly, 
only to find that in a Keystone Kop sequence of events Harry had climbed out 
of the car and walked across the street to speak to one of the neighbors 
while the television repair man had pulled his truck in behind Harry's car 
to pick up their balky television set. 

For one frozen instant Joan had confronted the bug-eyed uniformed repairman 
before she turned and sprinted for the stairs with all her flowing curves 
jiggling loosely and bouncing wildly. Harry had been annoyed at first when 
she confessed the unexpected results of her impetuosity, but had then 
laughed. He never entered the house afterward if anyone was with him, 
however, without the preliminary question about Joan's decency or lack of it 
in the way of dress. 

It had been some solace to Joan afterward that the television repairman, 
upon the occasion of returning the repaired set, while Joan had been playing 
the coolly nonchalant grande dame with him as though the incident had never 
happened, turned to her at the door and said earnestly: "Lady, if I could 
get my wife to meet me at my front door like that just once I'd forfeit 
cheerfully every dollar I ever hope to earn. Your husband is a damned lucky 
guy." 

Joan had blushed vividly despite her best effort at composure, but had 
treasured the implied compliment. 

She walked into the living room and found Harry mixing a fast pitcher of 
martinis behind the bar. She glanced at the broad-shouldered, tapered back 
of the six foot, prematurely gray man standing in the center of the room 
with his back to her. "Hello, Tom," Joan said. 

He turned to greet her with the wide grin that was his trademark. Tom Carter 
had almost girlish-looking blue eyes in a craggy face, and a hard-looking 
male body. Joan found herself admiring his appearance as she always did. 
Except for the graying hair he could have passed for her age instead of ten 
years older. 

Harry moved out from the bar and handed Joan a drink, then gave one to Tom. 
He neglected to kiss Joan as he had done faithfully when they were first 
married. Joan thought he looked tired and preoccupied, but she still felt 
resentful at his lack of attention to her. She tried to mask her reaction 
under Tom Carter's shrewd, observant gaze. "To a quick trip home," Tom 
toasted, and raised his glass. Janet downed her martini in a gulp. Harry 
looked surprised, and Tom wagged a finger at her. "Hey, that's not like 
you," he admonished her. 

Joan shrugged. "Since I have to celebrate my husband's promotion alone 
tonight, I might as well get started quickly," she said with more of an edge 
to her voice than she had intended. 

"Shall I tell her now?" Tom said to Harry, who nodded. "We decided that you 
shouldn't miss a good party just because your traveling old man is out of 
town," Tom continued to Joan. "You're coming with Alice and me tonight. The 
reservations have been made and everything ordered. Besides, I'd like to 
prove that I'm still not too old to squire two women at once, even if it's 
only for one night." He grinned at her companionably. 

"Oh, Tom, I don't really think so," Joan began, but he interrupted her 
immediately. 

"Don't be a spoilsport, Joan. I've already talked to Alice. She's been 
getting ready for three hours for the party, and she says she doesn't mind 
sharing me for the evening. So you can't say no." He took Joan's hand 
warmly, and she sensed the controlled strength in the masculine body. 

"In that case, Mr. Carter, I suppose I can't refuse," she said with a little 
smile. "What time should I be ready?" 

"Eight o'clock," he said promptly. 

"I've got a plane to catch," Harry broke in. "Come on, Tom, let's get a move 
on." 

He kissed Joan goodbye absentmindedly, ran up the stairs and right back down 
again with his bag, and walked out the front door. Joan tried to smile 
through her hurt at the brush-off as Tom Carter prepared to follow Harry. 
"See you at eight," he said quietly, and Joan nodded. She watched Tom's 
white convertible roar down the street, trying to still a single wayward 
tear that persisted in creeping from beneath an eyelid and down her cheek. 
If Harry's new position in the firm kept him as busy and with as little time 
for her, she didn't know how she could stand it. 

Disconsolately she went back upstairs, removed the housedress, stood in 
front of the mirror for an instant stroking her brassiered and pantied 
curves, then went to the closet and took out the evening gown which she laid 
out carefully on the bed. 

Two hours later Tom Carter and his wife Alice shared a drink in their 
bedroom as he dressed for the party. Alice sat propped up against the 
headboard with a large pillow behind her. She had on a lacy negligee 
casually parted in front to reveal lissome tanned thighs. 

She was a handsome woman but one terribly afraid of the first faint signs of 
aging which appeared in her boudoir mirror. She was also head-over-heels in 
love with her debonair husband-had been ever since the first day he had 
appeared so spectacularly in her life-and putty in his hands. Willing putty. 

"It's working out just as you predicted," she said, sipping at her drink. 
"Do you think she's ready?" 

"Ripe for plucking," Tom said, smiling at her as he buttoned his shirt. "And 
for fucking." 

Alice smiled, too. "A comedian you're not," she informed her husband. "But 
since you want her, I hope you're right." 

"When am I wrong about these things?" he said confidently. "You should have 
seen her face when we drove away just now. She's the loving, neglected wife. 
She's ready, all right. There'll be no trouble. And even if there should be, 
I can change her mind. With what I know about Harry's not-so-clever 
manipulation of the Sadaris account, I can compel her acquiescence by 
threatening his exposure. No, I've had my eye on her aristocratic-looking 
lilywhite big ass for a long time, and tonight's the night I get it between 
the sheets." 

"I'm kind of looking forward to trying out Harry after you've broken in 
Joan," Alice said comfortably. "He looks rather the innocent type." She 
looked at her husband archly. "Won't you be jealous?" 

He smiled. "A little, perhaps. I usually am, when I think of someone 
screwing you. But it usually only lasts long enough for me to get into the 
rack with one of your girl friends." He glanced at his watch. "I'd better 
get going. I'm curious to hear Joan's reaction when I tell her that you have 
an unexpected headache and can't make it tonight." 

Alice rose from the bed and approached her husband. She was tall enough so 
that her crown of dark hair came just under his nostrils as she put her arms 
around him and rubbed her palms against the small of his back. "Don't waste 
it all on that blonde tonight," she whispered. She dropped her right hand to 
Tom's buttock and pinched it lightly, then moved her hand around to the 
front and rubbed her knuckles against his groin. "Save a little something 
for me for when you get home." 

Tom grunted at her touch upon his penis. "If you don't stop fiddling with 
the machinery, I'll paddle you pink, Alice. Or make you suck me off." 

"I'd love to," she said promptly, and reached for his zipper. 

He pulled away. "I haven't time. I'll be late, probably after three."-He 
started for the bedroom door. 

"Remember that I'll want to hear all about it," Alice called after him. 

She returned to the bed and sank slowly down upon it as she heard Tom's firm 
tread descending the stairs. 

Joan had been ready for twenty minutes when she heard Tom's knock at the 
door. She finished the last of her martini, the fourth since Harry and Tom 
had left, and walked rather unsteadily to the door to let Tom in. He 
explained quickly about Alice's supposed migraine headache, and Joan shook 
her head. "We don't have to go out, Tom," she began to say. 

"Of course we do," he said quickly. "Harry's expecting it. I'd feel I'd let 
him down." 

"Well," Joan said with a forced smile, "I guess we'll have to do the best we 
can." 

"That's the spirit," he said encouragingly. "How about a drink before we 
leave?" 

"I'll make one for you, but I've had enough," Joan replied. She was already 
feeling the results of her previous libations more than she had anticipated. 
Or desired. 

"Then I won't have one, either," Tom decided. He picked up her mink stole 
resting haphazardly on the back of a chair and held it out to her. His 
knuckles brushed her bare shoulders as he draped it over her, and Joan 
shivered. There was a maleness in Tom Carter that plucked at the very roots 
of her sensibilities. 

He tucked her into the convertible, then walked around and got under the 
wheel. He drove so smoothly that she was soon lost in her own thoughts. It 
was Harry that was uppermost on her mind. She wanted her husband back so 
desperately, the eager, loving husband he had been before. Was it possible 
she was losing her sex appeal? Perhaps if she tried making Harry a little 
jealous? It seemed a bit childish, but she was ready to try anything. She 
glanced at Tom Carter's handsomely craggy features. If she flirted with Tom 
a little, remained a little secretive about her night out with him ... there 
could be no real harm in it. Tom was a good friend, after all, Harry's best 
friend despite the difference in their ages. 

Joan smiled tentatively and moved slightly closer to Tom on the 
convertible's front seat. More than a few men had propositioned her, knowing 
she was married and admiring her physical attributes. She had been flattered 
but never unfaithful to Harry. And it could never come to that with Tom. She 
found herself wondering suddenly how Tom was in bed with Alice. Joan had 
always admired Alice's cool sophistication, and she found it difficult to 
picture Alice and Tom in intimately entwined embraces. She felt her cheeks 
getting hot at the thought. She wasn't accustomed to speculating about 
friends-even good friends-in this wayward manner. 

Tom glanced across at her and favored her with his attractive crooked grin 
as the convertible charged on through the warm summer night. "Everything 
okay?" he inquired. 

"Fine," Joan declared stoutly. She was feeling warm, and she raised the long 
skirt of her evening gown surreptitiously and let cool air from the vent 
play upon her thighs. In a moment the teasing stream of air was eddying 
around her tightly-pantied crotch, and Joan relaxed at the subtle 
titillation. She sensed that Tom was gazing from time to time at her 
displayed thighs, but she found she didn't care. 

He reached across her suddenly and opened the glove compartment, handing her 
a flask. "Have one for the road," he invited her. "No reason it should be so 
long between drinks. It's exactly what you've been drinking." 

Joan started to refuse, then changed her mind. So what if she was feeling 
her drinks a little? One or two more couldn't hurt. She wasn't a child. And 
Tom was a friend. Besides, she felt a compulsion tonight to blot out her 
hurt and anxiety over what she was afraid was a growing estrangement with 
Harry. 

She took a full swallow from the flask, savoring the tart bite of the 
martini. Tom nodded approvingly and followed suit. They continued the drive 
in silence until Tom headed the car into the neon-lighted bustle of Broadway 
and pulled to the curb in front of a garishly-lighted night club. Tom handed 
the obsequious doorman an over-large tip, and a man appeared to park their 
car. Joan stumbled slightly as she stepped up to the sidewalk from the 
depths of the convertible, assisted by Tom's strong arm. "Oops," she 
murmured. "Tom, you're going to have to see to it that I don't make a 
spectacle of myself," she continued half-seriously. "I'm afraid the drinks 
are getting to me." 

Tom's hand closed comfortingly upon her bare arm. "You know you could never 
make a spectacle of yourself as far as I'm concerned, Joan," he said warmly. 
She felt an inner tingle as the male voice brushed sensuously against her 
nerve ends. 

She gazed curiously at the posters and pictures in the lobby of the club as 
Tom ushered her inside. Numerous unclad girls were depicted in various 
attitudes of dancing. Joan wondered what it must be like to get up on a 
platform without so much as a thread between one's naked body and the world 
and perform all manner of wriggling gyrations. It must be dreadfully 
degrading but at the same time somehow stimulating, she thought. 

The blaring beat of a rock band enveloped them as they walked inside, the 
strong rhythm so loud the sound waves were almost tangible. Strobe lights 
synchronized with the beat made Joan blink as she struggled to adjust to the 
comparative absence of light inside. They were seated at once at a small 
table, side by side, and Joan glanced up toward the stage in front of them 
to see a spotlighted naked girl swirling her bare hips in contortions that 
twitched her pubic hair at her audience. Joan looked quickly away in 
confusion. 

Tom ordered drinks from a bikinied waitress whose large breasts appeared 
about to overflow her skimpy uniform-top. "How d'you like it here?" he 
inquired expansively when the girl had placed their glasses in front of them 
and smilingly accepted Tom's tip. "Or are you still trying to get into the 
mood?" 

"Perhaps that's it," Joan admitted. She took a taste of her drink. "I 
couldn't help thinking how those poor girls must feel up there with nothing 
covering them, hour after hour. They must feel awfully bored." 

"Probably no more so than you," Tom suggested. He leaned closer to her so 
that his lips were close to Joan's ear. "You probably have your pick of 
beautiful female bodies close at home when you cuddle with your girl 
friends." 

Joan shook her head smilingly although she could feel her face pinkening. "I 
don't cuddle with girls," she said. At least not since I married Harry, she 
amended it silently. She hurried on, anxious that Tom not think he was 
wasting his money. "I really am enjoying it here, Tom." 

He was quiet for a moment as the dancer left the stage and was replaced by a 
rather plain-faced girl wearing collegiate cap-and-gown. The girl sang a 
rather pointless little song about sexual education and then removed the 
gown to display an amazingly well-made, plumply-curved nude body which 
caught Joan by surprise. The girl danced rather well, too. "She has a really 
cute figure," Joan observed. "I don't wonder that men come to these places." 
Glancing around, she was amazed at the number of women in the noisy but 
intent audience, and suddenly she didn't feel so conspicuous. She relaxed 
and took another swallow from her glass. 

Tom leaned toward her again. "Remind me to tell you sometime how fortunate I 
was at the age of fifteen to discover there was no such thing as an 
unattractive female body," he muttered into Joan's ear. 

She smiled but made no reply. Her attention was back upon the stage. She 
still couldn't really get over the fact that she could see everything the 
girl had. She hadn't dreamed that such license existed in public. She 
wondered if Tom was mentally undressing her and comparing her to the girl on 
the stage whose exotic vibrations jiggled her glistening flesh enticingly, 
and she felt herself growing warm at the thought. She supposed she should 
have found the exhibition upon the stage vulgar, but the girl's cutely pert 
little body and confident demeanor somehow prevented it. 

Tom was speaking in her ear again, his breath tickling her lobe. "I've 
noticed that Harry hasn't been paying much attention to you lately," he 
said. Joan jerked herself back to the present. Was it so noticeable? She 
hated the idea. "I've been having a little problem with Alice," Tom went on. 
"One reason I've been hitting the bottle a little hard lately, I guess." 

Joan felt a quick rush of sympathy. She certainly knew how it felt to be 
neglected. "I thought you and Alice were perfectly happy, Tom," she said 
softly. "I'd never have suspected that you were having problems, too." She 
felt an immediate twinge of guilt at having so quickly admitted her own 
situation. It seemed disloyal to Harry. 

"We haven't even been to bed together in the past year," Tom continued. "I 
sleep in the guest room." 

Joan was shocked. "Here I've been brooding about my own love life, or lack 
of it, and you're worse off. Although not by much," she added frankly. 
Impulsively she leaned over and kissed Tom's cheek affectionately. 

He smiled and patted her hand. "Just a couple of losers, that's us," he 
said. "Is it all right to ask what's wrong between you and Harry?" 

"I'd tell you if I knew," Joan said ruefully. "I've thought it was his work, 
but even on weekends he seems too busy for me. I guess I'm old before my 
time." 

"like hell!" Tom responded emphatically. "There isn't a man in this noisy 
place who wouldn't want to go to bed with you right this minute." 

"You're sweet, Tom," Joan said gratefully. 

He glanced toward the postage-stamp-sized dance floor. "Want to try it? This 
number seems a little slower." 

Obediently she left her place and followed him to the floor. He slipped an 
arm around her and whirled her away to a beat that admittedly was slower but 
still strongly influenced by drum and bass. The flashing strobe lights 
intermittently illuminated the faces of the dancers. Joan's breasts pressed 
against Tom's chest. Her gown was the type which demanded no bra, and her 
pectoral muscles felt stimulated against the hard male body. She could feel 
his leg between hers as they danced. Between the drinks and the stimulation 
a sudden light dampness made its way from her vagina to the flushed lips of 
her vulva, surprising her. She had never experienced it before just from 
dancing. She tried to ease away slightly from Tom's strong body. Making 
Harry jealous was all right, but she didn't want to go too far, and at the 
moment her instincts seemed on the verge of betraying her. 

But Tom tightened his grip and pulled her even closer. Joan closed her eyes, 
trying to shut out the flashing strobe lights and the strange effect they 
seemed to be having upon her. The tempo of the music had increased, and 
along with the liquor it was getting to her. She could feel their blended 
bodies, her own responding as her breasts rubbed against Tom, her taut 
nipples straining against the thin veneer of lightweight summer clothing. 

When she opened her eyes, Tom was watching a new dancer on the stage. Joan 
looked at the undulating girl, naked, throwing her pelvis up at the crowd, 
and she. began to dance in unconscious imitation of the girl's suggestive 
movements, aware of an increased heat in her own loins. Joan jerked her body 
in rhythm, feeling her breasts bounce, a film of perspiration on her 
forehead, hot flashes coursing through her body. 

And Tom was responding. He held Joan even more tightly as her hips writhed 
to the beat, in time with her bouncing breasts. She felt free, alive, and-as 
she realized suddenly-terribly in need of a man. One of Tom's legs was 
between Joan's thighs as he whirled her around the dance floor, and she 
could feel the elongated bulge of his aroused penis against her 
swollen-feeling pussy at each surging pivot they made. It excited her beyond 
belief as a tre-mendous surge of long-repressed emotion caused her to toss 
caution to the winds. 

Deliberately she ground her pelvis against the bulge in Tom's trousers. She 
could feel it straining toward her. She swayed her hips, trying to intensify 
the contact. Her mouth was half open as she breathed heavily, spurred on by 
the increasing heat within her. The lights flashed in brilliant colors on 
her half-open lids, deepening her sudden erotic frenzy. 

She found herself with one hand on the back of Tom's rugged-feeling neck as 
she leaned backward, pushing her burning crotch against his erection. Each 
drum beat seemed to arouse her more, pounding at the core of her being. 
Their bodies were blended, touching everywhere. Joan imagined them suddenly 
to be upon a bed, ready for each other, and hot though she was, she drew 
back from the picture. What on earth was the matter with her? She was acting 
like alike a slut! 

But then Tom pulled her closer again as she instinctively sought to break 
the close contact that was demoralizing her good intentions. He kissed her, 
crushing his lips against her partly opened mouth, thrusting his tongue 
deeply into her throat. Joan found herself responding eagerly before she 
realized what had happened. The shock of the strongly sexual kiss aroused 
her from her previous indulgence in herself. It wasn't fair to Tom, she told 
herself desperately. It wasn't what she wanted, so how could she lead him on 
like this? 

It wasn't what she wanted ... was it? 

She knew it was wrong. "No, Tom," she tried to say, half-struggling away 
from him. She'd gone too far. It had to stop. She freed herself from his 
unwilling arms and walked quickly but unsteadily from the dance floor, 
bumping into people en route. 

She walked to the nightclub exit before she looked around. 

Tom was picking up her wrap from the hat-check girl, his expression 
grim-faced in the psychedelic light patterns. 

 CHAPTER II 

Thoroughly ashamed of herself, Joan sat quietly and in a semi-stupor as the 
white convertible sped along deserted streets. I've ruined a friendship, she 
thought bitterly. What could have gotten into me that I led him on so far? 
She'd only intended to make Harry a bit jealous, but now she'd undoubtedly 
hurt Tom. It had been inexcusably selfish of her to think she could use him 
like that. 

Deep in self-accusation, she had failed to notice that the car was pursuing 
a direction at variance with either of their homes. Before she could 
question their position high in the hills above the city, Tom turned the car 
suddenly into a short side street and then immediately again so that it 
faced outward from a secluded parking place with the brilliant lights of the 
city below. "I thought you'd enjoy the view," Tom said matter-of-factly as 
he got out of the convertible and walked around it to Joan's side. He opened 
the door and helped her out, supporting her as she wobbled slightly. "It's 
too beautiful a place to pass without stopping on a night like this," he 
continued casually. He gave a short laugh. "Besides, it should clear our 
heads a little." 

Joan allowed him to lead her to the outer edge of the parking place where 
they watched for a moment in silence the panorama that unfolded far below 
them. It seemed natural that Tom should put his arm around her waist as he 
stood beside her. Perhaps they were still-friends, she thought hopefully. 
Tom was an adult, if she wasn't. He would understand what could happen to a 
girl taken unaware by her own emotions. 

She flinched slightly as Tom's arm rose and his large palm cupped a full 
breast. No! she thought. I mustn't! But she made no further movement as 
strong fingers closed upon the soft globe fluttering from her rapid 
breathing. She could feel her taut nipple pulsating as the invading fingers 
first brushed against it and then returned to massage it lightly. Her groin 
felt on fire as Tom massaged her resilient flesh with increasing urgency. 
"Ooooh, Tom!" she breathed huskily from a throat that seemed clamped in a 
vise so she could hardly speak at all. 

She thought fleetingly of Harry, and then the thought was gone. The only 
room in her crowded brain was for the sensation afforded her by the urging 
of the strong hand upon her breast that was kneading her and manipulating 
her into a white-hot fever of desire. She took a step backward and leaned 
more heavily against his arm, and Tom took hold of her and pulled her around 
to face him. He pressed against her, and a rock-like bulge in his trousers 
twitched involuntarily against her belly. The dampness between Joan's legs 
renewed itself as she thought longingly of what the huge thing would feel 
like boring its way inside her. It's wrong to think like that, she told 
herself desperately. But it felt so good. So gooooooood. She made no attempt 
to escape Tom's hard lips as once more they fused upon her own. 

The kiss left her breathless. It was eager, expert, and demanding. Her mouth 
opened willingly to accept the tongue which probed her unresisting mouth. 
She was so far gone in sexual arousal and excitement that she didn't even 
mind the small moans of pleasure that escaped from her straining lips. Tom 
held her immobile for an instant, then released her so suddenly that she 
almost fell. 

Joan couldn't stand it that the strong, supporting arms were suddenly gone. 
"Tom!" she whispered urgently. "Do it to me, Tom! Do it to me!" 

She didn't really believe she had said the emboldened words, but the sound 
lingered in her own ear. She was shameless, and she didn't care. All 
thoughts of loyalty to Harry had vanished in her alcohol-dimmed mind. She 
just knew she wanted Tom. Knew she had to have him regardless of 
consequences. There was a hot flame in her crotch that only a sturdy male 
organ could extinguish. 

Tom led her back to the car. Standing beside it, he kissed her on the mouth 
again while his hands went behind her and gripped the pliant cheeks of her 
buttocks, squeezing, compressing, drawing in, releasing, pinching, and 
pressing together her soft globes until Joan thought she would expire from 
pleasure. 

Tom opened the car door and reached for a lever at the back of the seat, 
releasing a catch that held it upright. The seat descended into a reclining 
position, and Tom handed Joan into the car. She rolled onto her back after 
releasing the catch on the second seat herself, then lay back trembling, her 
legs slightly parted. She knew what was going to happen, and she wanted it 
to happen. No thought of love or loyalty could penetrate the sex-haze 
enveloping her. 

Despite her desire, she felt a tremor of fear. This was all new to her. She 
hadn't had another man since her marriage. She felt almost like a virgin. 
She almost cried out as Tom leaned down upon her and their arms and legs and 
bodies came together in an unplanned, slow-motion embrace that engulfed all 
her sensibilities. 

Tom's leg pressed between her parted thighs, widening them still more. He 
kissed her neck passionately, his moist tongue immediately pursuing a course 
under her throat, then down to the deep valley between her heaving breasts. 
Joan gasped at the feeling. Harry hadn't touched her in three months. No 
lips had made love to her breasts as these lips were doing. Tom pulled the 
straps of her dress from her shoulders and lowered it until her large 
breasts bulked large in the dim light and her quiveringly erect pink nipples 
danced in the air, reveling in their freedom. They were free to be kissed; 
free to be tantalized. 

"Ohhh, God!" Joan whimpered, spreading her legs farther apart as Tom's hot 
mouth plunged from nipple to nipple, titillating each unmercifully. She 
raised herself slightly upward so she could feel the strong muscles in Tom's 
intruding thigh probing against the wetness between her legs. 

Tom grasped her right hand and pulled it down to the long bulge in his 
trousers. Joan responded to the silent directive by stroking the throbbing 
penis while she marveled at its massivity. She rubbed gently at first, then 
harder, and she could feel her partner's excitement mount steadily. He 
tapped her shoulder, and she raised her hips again obediently as he quickly 
stripped her gown from her completely and flung it to one side. 

Tom paused long enough to stare down at the female form beneath him. There 
was no blemish in the sleekly sensuous curves. He could even see the 
slightly darker patch of her soft blonde pubic hair beneath her skimpy white 
silk bikini panties. He tugged at them impatiently, and Joan once more 
lifted her hips to assist in their removal. 

Joan rested on her back, scarcely breathing, while Tom hurriedly divested 
himself of his clothing. She waited for the instant when his straining cock 
would be freed from his shorts. Even after feeling it, her eyes widened at 
its sudden appearance. It was both thick and long, huskier than any she had 
seen. It probed the air proudly as Tom knelt on the seat beside her, and a 
rippling shiver of salacious anticipation caused the saliva to flow more 
freely in Joan's mouth as she thought of the big prick's breadth and length 
plunging deep inside her belly. 

Tom knelt above her for an instant, his breath coming in quick, hard gasps. 
Then he plunged upon her, ravaging her breasts and naked belly with wet 
kisses. His enormous cock pressed hard against the soft flesh outside her 
thigh, its heat starting a whole new chain of sensations in her frantic, 
molten interior. She wriggled beneath him, trying to force it into herself, 
but Tom was in no hurry. 

He stroked her sides and belly and her softly swollen mound. His fingers 
slid lower and plummeted into the feathery fleeciness of her pubic hair, 
tickling and teasing until Joan writhed in exquisite sexual agony. Then a 
finger darted down and plucked lightly at the ragged, fleshy fissure of her 
sexual parts and slipped inside. 

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" Joan bleated involuntarily. "Oooooh, Tom!" 

She surged upward with her hips to meet the finger and increase the 
pressure. "God, are you wet!" he exclaimed in surprise. "I could see a damp 
spot on your panties, but you're really wet" 

Wet and unashamed, Joan thought fleetingly as the finger massaged her, 
rotating inside her in a circulatory movement, manipulating her inside walls 
with an excruciating deliberateness she had never experienced before. She 
held her breath as the hand covering her pussy moved slightly so that two 
fingers widened the lips of her splayed cunt and the finger of another hand 
massaged her clitoris. She jerked wildly beneath him as a fiery bomb seemed 
to go off in her interior, and then the finger returned to her lubricated 
open passage. 

"Oh, oh, oh!" Joan cried as pleasurable sensation flooded her. 

'How d'you like it?" Tom queried hoarsely. 

"Ohhh, yes, yes, yes," Joan sighed. "Please, more!" Her hands cupped her own 
breasts as Tom's finger thoroughly aroused her as it plunged in and out of 
her clinging sheath. 

Still he continued to manipulate his fingers inside her, sometimes one, 
sometimes two pressed together. Joan's cunt had felt tight and puckered at 
first from recent disuse, but as Tom pumped his hard-boring fingers in and 
out of her she gushed a torrent of sticky wetness over them that seemed to 
enlarge her materially. She was panting from pleasure unknown in recent 
months. 

"Please, Tom," she whispered as beads of per-s p i r a t i o n formed on her 
smooth forehead. "Please, I can't stand it any more! Please!" 

"What is it you want?" he asked sadistically. 

She knew what he meant. "I want you to put your prick in my cunt and f-fuck 
me!" she said unsteadily, the words at the same time shaming and further 
stimulating her. 

They excited Tom, too. No longer in complete control, he was unable to 
prolong his titillation of Harry's wife, the target of his sexual ambition 
for so long. Her desire was so uninhibited and so fierce that he was caught 
up in her wake. "Yes, now!" he said savagely, and jammed his big cock 
between her wide-apart legs against the small, hairy, narrow opening of 
Joan's cunt. He probed brutally for a moment as Joan bit her lip at the 
soft-lipped entrance-violation taking place. 

Then Tom speared her doughnut firmly, shoved in for an inch or two, and 
lowered himself upon her. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Joan cried out as she felt the big 
head slip moistly inside her. 

Her mouth pursed in half-pained, half-delighted apprehension as she felt it 
worming-its course so deeply inside her ravening cunt that the hardened 
flesh seemed to be just, under her breasts. 

Joan rocked from side to side as Tom's prick thrust even more deeply into 
her heaving' belly. "Oooooooh!" She cried shrilly. "It's-in, isn't it?" 

For answer Tom surged with his hips, and Joan groaned as another inch of 
gristle penetrated her quivering sheath. But it was a groan of pleasure as 
much as it was of pained distention. She thrust her straining thighs even 
farther apart in an effort to get even more of him inside her. 
"Ecccccecccell, don't stop!" she burbled. "Don't-stop!" 

Tom was surprised at her abandon. Surprised and excited. Here he had been 
thinking of her as a mealy-mouthed little bitch who wouldn't say shit if she 
had a mouthful, and beneath him he had a sexual wildcat whom even in 
preliminary movements seemed to have her handsome bare ass on ball bearings. 
He hovered above her for a moment, his thick prick sunk inside her to his 
balls which brushed gently against the' billowing, yielding globes of her 
bottom. 

"Fuck me!" she pleaded. "Fuck me, Tom!" 

He began to move upon her, slowly at first. An inch or two of the slippery 
prick outward, then a deep plunge inward. And again. And again. Then a 
further withdrawal, and a deeper plunge. He wanted this first fuck to last; 
wanted her to remember it so there'd be less convincing necessary the next 
time. Joan moaned at the penetration Tom was achieving, and strained her 
buttocks upward from the lowered seat, hungry for the plunging rod that was 
beginning to increase its speed. 

Tom lengthened his strokes fractionally each time, grinding his rigid prick 
into Joan's quivering gash with her groaning beneath him. Mercilessly, he 
drove his fleshy spike into her crammed cunt-walls while Joan sobbed in 
sexual frenzy. Her cunt felt as if it were about to explode. Never had she 
known such excitement as with this oversized cock fucking her furiously. 

A succession of electric shocks burst through her body as she grabbed for 
his shoulders to hold him more closely to her. If the world had come to an 
end that instant she would have been unable to concentrate upon anything 
except the fucking she was getting. Her upraised hind cheeks began to twitch 
spasmodically as the interior muscles in her pussy grabbed at the 
hard-fucking prick and threatened to freeze upon it. 

Then she could feel the deep-stirring tingle presaging her come, and she 
fought desperately to hold it off. She tried to make each second last as Tom 
pounded her belly with such furious strokes that she grunted audibly at each 
impact. Her quivering legs wrapped around him tightly as a giant wave slowly 
welled up inside her. 

The first convulsion started almost lazily. It quivered deep in the pit of 
her convulsed belly and moved downward to titillate her prick-filled chasm. 
Joan's half-closed eyes flew wide open. "Oh!" she exclaimed tentatively, and 
then her cunt boiled over. "Ohhhhh!" she shrieked. "Ooooh! Tom! T-Tom!" Her 
stomach surged upward as she erupted internally. "Ohhhhhh, yes! Now! NOW! 
I'm-ooooh! coming! I'm-aaiieeeeeeeeeee!-coming!" Her hands drummed on Tom's 
shoulders. "OHHHHHHHHHHHH-h-h-h-h!" she expired as her juices filled her 
passage, lubricating it still more. 

Her almost maniacal frenzy overpowered Tom. Shoulders hunched, he almost 
stood up on his prick as he slashed it into Joan's overflowing orifice. He 
bellowed like a bull with his lips against her neck as his moment overtook 
him. With her own frenetic passion subsiding, Joan clasped his shoulders 
firmly as Tom's buttocks worked like a pile driver as he shot his load into 
her, hot fluid from his straining cock spurting deep into her wide open 
cunt. 

"Good, good, good, oh good!" Joan whispered when she felt his spend filling 
her. Tom fell on top of her, completely spent, crushing her with his weight. 
Her legs splayed limply to either side as she tried to concentrate mentally 
on the pleasure she had been receiving a moment before. 

But with the cessation of activity in the region of her aching pelvis her 
mind swiveled to other matters. She had loved it while she was getting it, 
certainly, but it was still wrong. A rising tide of guilt enveloped her. 
Being fucked by her husband's best friend in his car-what kind of a 
schoolgirl performance was that? She couldn't tell Harry; she couldn't 
expect him to understand that his own neglect of her was a primary cause. 
Not that it was an excuse. There could be no excuse. Her passionate nature 
had burst its normal discreet boundaries and turned her into a pulsating, 
slavering, female animal. 

Joan stirred uneasily beneath Tom's bulk. "Let me up, Tom," she murmured. 
"We must have been out of our minds. Suppose someone had come along and seen 
us?" 

He grunted something unintelligible but finally heaved his weight up from 
her pinioned body. Immediately her stomach and cunt felt chilled with the 
removal of the warm male body covering them. Joan felt a fresh wave of 
embarrassment as she realized how she must look, spraddle-legged and still 
on her back. She sat up hurriedly, snapping her thighs together to conceal 
the focal point of all that delicious but forbidden activity. 

Tom was silently pulling on his underwear, his expression unreadable. Joan 
scooped up her white bikini panties, still damp from her dance floor 
excretion, and stuffed them into her handbag. She pulled her dress over her 
head and wriggled it down over her hips, resting her weight on one plump 
haunch at a time as she pulled the gown beneath her. She had to get out of 
the car to get it properly settled around her lower body, and she knew it 
must be a mass of wrinkles even though she couldn't see clearly in the 
semi-darkness. 

Tom was under the wheel when she got back into the car. He started the 
engine and had the car in motion before Joan was fairly settled in the seat. 
She wondered what he was thinking. That his best friend's wife was a hot 
piece, no better than a whore? She shuddered at the thought that he might 
tell Harry. "I-I don't know what happened to me, Tom," she said honestly, 
acutely humiliated that she should have to apologize for her conduct. "Can 
we-can't we just forget that it ever happened?" 

The quick glance he cast in her direction was inscrutable. "We'll talk about 
it over coffee at your place," he said. The convertible descended swiftly 
from the hills and nosed through the streets in the direction of Harry and 
Joan's house. 

"There's nothing to talk about, really," Joan declared with attempted 
firmness. She glanced at her wristwatch. It was after two a.m.! "And I don't 
think you should be coming into the house at this hour even for coffee." 

There was no mistaking the white glint of his teeth as Tom smiled at her 
remark. "We'll talk," he said with finality. 

They completed the balance of the ride in silence. Joan removed her house 
key from her purse nervously. She didn't understand this new facet of Tom's 
personality. Surely he didn't expect to trade on her moment of weakness? 
Just because she had succumbed temporarily to his male strength and her own 
loneliness? 

She unlocked the door hurriedly and led the way inside, hoping that no one 
in the quiet-seeming neighborhood would be up late enough and be curious 
enough to see Tom enter with her. In the living room she was greeted by the 
empty martini glasses from her early-evening drinking. That had been her 
downfall, she thought as she switched on a lamp. The liquor, and Harry's 
recent neglect of her. The two had combined to make her putty in Tom's hard 
hands. She shivered internally at the recollection of those hands racing 
over her nude body. How could she have been so abandoned? 

The familiar room renewed her feeling of guilt about what she had done as 
well as her concern about Harry. Dear God, what if Tom were the type to kiss 
and tell? Harry might even divorce her. Joan's entire body felt chilled at 
the thought. Well, she'd beg if she had to for Tom's silence. Her marriage 
was too important to her to risk its loss. 

"Tom," she began as her eyes took in his rumpled suit and then went 
instinctively to her gown. It was wrinkled even worse than she'd feared. 

"I take my coffee black," Tom said casually. 

Joan hesitated. She wanted him out of the house, but she couldn't afford to 
antagonize him. She went into the kitchen, turned on the light, and spooned 
coffee into the percolator. Her thoughts were racing as she stood there 
waiting for the coffee to perk. Exactly what was it about Tom's attitude 
that she found so disturbing? She couldn't quite place her finger upon it. 

And then he was lounging in the kitchen doorway, hands in pockets, watching 
her with a half-smile on his lips. "I want to talk to you about tonight, 
Tom," she said quickly. "It was a-a terrible mistake." 

His smile widened, but the flat planes of his hard-looking features showed 
no softness. "A mistake? Who're you trying to kid, Joan?" 

"I mean it," she insisted. "It was the liquor, and-" 

"The liquor!" he snorted. "You practically raped me on the dance floor, and 
how about your reactions in the car? Didn't you like it? Say no honestly and 
I'll walk out the door right now." 

Joan bit her lip. "You know I can't say that," she admitted. "I-I did want 
it." She continued on recklessly. "I needed it, if it comes to that. But it 
should never have happened. I lost-lost control, that's all. I never dreamed 
of being unfaithful to Harry, even though-even though-" 

Tom was still smiling as she faltered. "Even though you're a horny little 
big-assed bitch who loves to be fucked by a big prick?" he asked. 

His words shocked her while at the same time they stirred lewd thoughts she 
sought to thrust from her mind. "I s-suppose you feel you're entitled to 
t-talk to me like that," Joan said. Her voice shook as she strove to retain 
her dignity. "Please be charitable, Tom. Please. I still-I still can't 
believe it really happened. Don't make it harder for me. I'm so-" 

"The coffee's ready," he interrupted her. 

Joan tried to control her shaking hands as she lifted the percolator from 
the stove and poured them each a steaming cup. Tom sat down at a chair near 
the table and considered her above the rim of his cup as he sipped from it. 
His bright-eyed inspection of her combined with his hard grin increased 
Joan's nervousness. Her stomach felt cold. 

"What makes you think tonight was an accident?" Tom asked suddenly. 

"Th-think? Well, wasn't it? I mean, certainly it was. I-" 

"I've been wanting to fuck you since fifteen minutes after Harry joined the 
firm," Tom cut her off. 

Joan could feel herself reddening. "Oh, well," she tried to toss it off, 
"everyone looks at-looks at everyone else sometimes and-and thinks-" 

"That the someone else would make a good fuck?" Tom interrupted. "Did you 
ever think of me that way, Joan ? Did you ever look at me and say to 
yourself I'll bet ol' Tom could put his prick in my hot cunt and give me a 
really great fuck?" 

Joan pressed both hands to her flaming cheeks. "W-why do you feel you have 
to humiliate me by-by talking like this, Tom?" she asked unsteadily. "I know 
what I did was wrong, and I'm ashamed of myself." She felt tears coming to 
her eyes. "Isn't-isn't that enough? Do you need to torment me?" 

"Getting back to the 'accident' tonight," he said as though she hadn't 
spoken. "Would you believe I had Harry sent out of town so he couldn't make 
the party tonight?" Joan stared at him blankly. "Would you believe I told 
Alice to stay home so I'd have my chance at you alone?" 

"Oh, n-no," Joan whispered, horrified. 

"Would you believe I told Alice I was going to fuck you tonight, Joan?" 

Joan couldn't help herself; she burst into a freshet of tears. She tried to 
quell her choking sobs while she wiped at her streaming cheeks with the 
backs of her hands. "You're-you're des-despicable!" she managed to get out. 

"Sure I'm despicable," he agreed comfortably. "And you don't know the half 
of it, Joan-nie, dear." The hard glint was back in his eyes. "Because you 
know what's going to happen as soon as I finish this cup of coffee, Joan?" 
Her half-fascinated, half-nauseated gaze was riveted upon him. "I'm going to 
take you upstairs and fuck your bare ass all over your bed. All over Harry's 
bed." 

Joan drew a deep breath while she tried to quell the fluttering in her 
interior. This was unbelievable! "No, Tom," said. She tried desperately to 
make her voice matter-of-fact. "I made a mistake, and if you force me to 
I'll confess it to Harry, but I'm not going to let you ruin my marriage." 

"You'll do exactly as I say," Tom said evenly. 

"No, I won't." 

"Yes, you will. Exactly. If I phone you tomorrow morning and tell you come 
down to my office and put your big behind on my desk for a fucking, you'll 
do it." 

His conviction shook her even more than the lewd picture conveyed by his 
words. "Wh-why say such an awful th-thing?" she asked shakily- 

"Because Harry has been manipulating one of the accounts at the office, and 
if you don't do as I say I'll turn him in." 

The sound of his words hung heavy between them before the silence began to 
build up in the kitchen. A thousand thoughts raced through Joan's feverish 
mind. Her illness last year. The tremendous bills. Harry's growing 
moroseness and preoccupation, irritability even, indication of a growing 
burden. She sensed that what Tom said was true. He was too sure of himself, 
too positive for it not to be true. 

"I thought you were a friend, Tom," she managed to say at last. 

"I am a friend," he said debonairly. "A friend who's wanted to screw you for 
a long time, dear." 

"But how can you s-say-how can you plan such dreadful-" 

"Dreadful? Delightful," he cut her off. "Don't forget I'm a friend who's 
kept Harry's guilty secret to this point." He set down his coffee cup with a 
deliberate clatter. "Now what about getting that luscious ass upstairs so I 
can give you a real fucking?" 

Joan's breath seemed caught somewhere deep in her throat. What good now to 
confess to Harry her moment of indiscretion? That was the least of Harry's 
and her problems. If she couldn't talk this grinning satyr out of his 
inclination and instinctively she knew she couldn't-then she was definitely 
in for whatever he chose to do to her. She had to protect Harry at all 
costs. 

Tom was growing impatient. He crooked a finger at her. "Come over here, 
bitch," he said brutally. 

Joan rose from her chair with shaky legs. How could she not have seen before 
the cruelty so close to the surface in this man? And she was his plaything, 
at least until she could talk to Harry. If only he were lying about Harry's 
manipulating an account ... but she knew he wasn't lying. Too many hitherto 
ignored signs all pointed in the same direction. "Wh-what do you want?" she 
asked when she was standing beside Tom. 

"I know you're bare-ass naked under that gown," he said. "I saw you put your 
panties in your purse. Pull up your dress and turn around into the light and 
give me a good look at the back of your lap in all its bare-ass glory." 

For a long moment Joan stood motionless. Instinctively she knew that if she 
made this first concession she was committed. But what was she to do? If Tom 
were vindictive enough he could even have Harry fired. She couldn't risk it. 
She faced about, pulled up her long skirt, and bunched it under her armpits. 

Behind her she heard Tom's soft whistle. "Bend over," he said huskily. 

Tears welled anew into Joan's eyes, but she obeyed. 

"What an ass!" Tom marveled. "What an immodest, brazen, ribald, unchaste, 
licentious, profligate, lascivious, carnal, libidinous, unblushing, 
shameless bare behind!" Joan shuddered as his hands stroked her satiny, 
snow-white, elastically malleable hind cheeks, softly resilient under the 
groping hands. Despite herself a quick glow stirred within her. 

"Did Harry ever count the downy little hairs all over your lovely bottom?" 
Tom inquired. He slipped a hand between Joan's plumped-out hind cheeks, deep 
into her crevice, and her whole body quivered. Tom noticed it immediately. 
"Getting hot again, aren't you, sweetie?" 

"N-no!" Joan tried to deny the stirring in her flesh. 

Tom crooked a finger until it touched Joan's swelling cunt-lips as his 
knuckles pressed against the lower slopes of her bottom. An involuntary deep 
sigh along with a shivery ripple in her buttock-flesh escaped her. Tom 
laughed and got to his feet. "We're wasting time," he said briskly. "Take 
off the dress." 

Mechanically she reached for the clasp at the back of her neck, unfastened 
it, then stepped out of the dress as it cascaded down her bare back. Cooler 
air licked over the sensitive nerves of her exposed skin. Her nipples rose 
with the new tactile sensation, and she covered them with her palms. She 
could see the slope of her own white belly and the upper crescent of her 
blonde pussy-hair. Could this actually be happening to her in her own 
kitchen? 

A sound from behind her caused her to look over her shoulder. Tom was 
undressing. He stripped off his underwear and stood clad only in his socks, 
his penis soft and swaying meatily with his body movements. Joan stared at 
it with dry lips and constricted throat That was what had given her so much 
pleasure before, she thought guiltily. It looked so harmless now. She wanted 
nothing to do with it, of course, but her body wasn't taking dictation from 
her mind. A dampness welled in her vagina, moistening her inner walls and 
relaxing the dainty, sensitively springy lips of her vulva. 

Tom's hard palm cracked unexpectedly with stinging force upon Joan's nude 
right buttock, and she yelped. He laughed as he took her and bent her over 
his upraised thigh so that her bare bottom plumped out again as his hand 
played patty-cake with her brimful, marble-white gluteal region. "How long 
since you've had an old-fashioned bare-bottom spanking, Joan?" he inquired. 

"N-not since I was in high s-school," she said faintly. 

He gave her another slap before releasing her. "We'll have to give you one 
some one of these days," he grinned. "Good for the tired blood. Who gave you 
your last spanking, your old lady or your old man?" 

"My father." 

Tom nodded knowingly. "I guess he enjoyed a look at a ripening girlish bare 
ass, huh?" 

"My father wasn't like that," Joan said with as much dignity as she could 
muster considering she was nude in the presence of an almost nude stranger. 

Tom smiled but didn't pursue it. "Upstairs," he commanded, and Joan's heart 
lurched in her breast. "To the fucking chamber, milady. One stiff prick 
coming up for one juicy twat." 

Helplessly Joan squeezed her eyelids together against a fresh onslaught of 
tears. She knew that crying would only make this man angry. This incredible 
thing was really going to happen to her. Nothing she could say or do would 
save her from being violated on her own bed. The devil of it was that Tom's 
lewd speech was exciting her. It was enough to make her wonder if she really 
knew her own nature. Where was the cool dignity she had always considered an 
integral part of her personality? 

From the corner of her eye she saw Tom raise his hand. 

Hastily Joan walked to the kitchen door and into the living room to the foot 
of the stairs, trying to still the trembling in her legs. 

 CHAPTER III 

Joan climbed the stairway to the second floor after switching on the light 
above the newel-post. She was dreadfully conscious of Tom ascending behind 
her with his face on a level with her swaying bare buttocks. Two-thirds of 
the way up he reached out and captured a gyrating globe in his hand. 

Joan stopped and turned on the stairs. Her eyes went at once to the large, 
soft penis between Tom's hairy thighs as his hand fondled her delectably 
yielding nude posterior. Her tongue circled her lips unconsciously. After 
her honeymoon timidity had ended, she had always been fascinated by Harry's 
penis. In their bed-moments together she played with it whenever he 
permitted it, which wasn't too often. It was Joan who had gradually 
initiated lip-service to the upstanding fleshy rod which happily welded them 
together, not that Harry permitted that very often, either. It seemed that 
oral stimulation did little for him, and accordingly he permitted Joan's 
loving efforts in this direction only occasionally. 

Tom's hand splatted on Joan's bare buttock again, and she resumed her stair 
climb. She paused again at the top, looking behind her. Tom was two steps 
below, his heavy prick swinging back and forth like a pendulum as he 
climbed. With his face level with Joan's middle, he bent forward and pressed 
his lips to the fleecy thatch adorning her pubic mound. Goose bumps rose all 
over her flesh as his hot lips and wet tongue caressed a portion of her 
loins while his warm breath penetrated deeply and disturbingly into her 
secret place. He held her by the hips with both hands while he savored the 
taste and feel of her soft flesh. 

Joan was breathing hard by the time he released her. She stumbled into her 
bedroom, trying to ignore the arousal taking place within her. Sat on the 
edge of the bed and modestly covered her pubic area with one palm. Her body 
was warm. A flame was building between her legs despite her best efforts at 
ignoring it, a flame stoked by Tom's grinning presence and the heavy-hanging 
meat dangling loosely between his legs. 

Tom walked toward her and played for an instant with an upstanding bare 
breast, teasing the supple nipple. Then he pulled Joan's head close to his 
hairy stomach, and she could identify in her nostrils the combined odors 
from their lovemaking in the convertible. Her inner turmoil increased. Tom's 
thick, greasy-looking penis with its loose foreskin was only a few inches 
from her lips. 

Tom's hand knotted loosely in Joan's heavy blonde hair and pulled her head 
even closer. "Suck my prick!" he ordered. He pushed her mouth lower. "I want 
it inside your mouth right now. Go on. Suck it!" 

His words repelled Joan if the idea did not. She hesitated, but he jerked at 
her hair roughly and she cried out in pain. "Did you hear me?" he demanded. 
"Suck my prick when I tell you to suck it, you bitch!" 

Joan reached up slowly and took the limp prick in her hand. Then she 
directed her mouth to it, kissing it gingerly as she inhaled the strong male 
odor. She moved her mouth downward and lipped at the soft, smooth penis-tip, 
then ran her lips along the limp length. Despite her fear of Tom's roughness 
she was becoming excited by this infamous proximity to what from girlhood 
had always represented the epitome of male domination. 

She returned her mouth to the tip of the penis, opened her lips, and let the 
rubbery tip slide easily into her saliva-filled mouth. She sucked at it 
gently, observing traces of her lipstick upon it as her mouth moved back and 
forth. Slowly the limp flesh began to grow larger in her mouth. Joan rubbed 
her tongue softly against the loose foreskin, and she felt a quick shudder 
ripple through Tom's sturdy thighs. 

"By God, you're something else as a cock-sucker!" Tom rasped hoarsely. His 
hand in her hair had relaxed. 

Joan swallowed more of the prick, expanding and lengthening now. Its 
thickness choked her momentarily until she could adjust her mouth to 
accommodate it better. It was really more than she could accommodate 
comfortably, but she moved her mouth back and forth along the increasing 
rigidity of the shaft, teasing the tip from time to time with wet, nibbling 
nuzzlings. Joan had to move her tongue to make additional room for the 
monster in her mouth, and she licked at its underside vigorously. As with 
Harry upon the rare occasions her permitted it, she gloried in her female 
power to rouse this limp worm into a pulverizing battering-ram which would 
assault her tender flesh. 

Only two-thirds of the big prick was in her mouth now, although Joan strove 
to absorb more. The heavy cock throbbed in her mouth as she struggled for 
more breath. The tip of the cock felt as though it was pressed against the 
back of her throat. Joan began to suck again, moving her head back and forth 
along the shaft more rapidly. She could feel the flesh of her ovaled lips 
drawing out each time she slid her mouth out to the tip. 

She sensed that Tom was close to eruption, and she began to back off from 
his tremendous erection. Not that she wanted to. She loved having a prick go 
off in her mouth, but she knew some men had reservations about letting their 
women receive their sperm orally. It was the better part of female wisdom to 
let the male take the lead. 

As she had hoped, Tom immediately seized her withdrawing head and forced her 
mouth back upon the spike of his turgid prick. Joan at once swirled her 
tongue around his pulsating pole while she sucked busily. Tom groaned, 
grabbed Joan by the ears, and pulled her even closer as his hips began to 
plunge. Joan's ears hurt, but she was enthralled by the changes taking place 
in her hot-clasping mouth. Tom was no longer standing still as she sucked 
him. He clenched his buttocks in time to the rapid movement of her gliding 
lips upon the slippery rod whose cloying salty odor and taste caused Joan's 
inner spring to gush more liberally and wet her crotch thoroughly. 

Joan paused as she gasped for air, and Tom at once tried to cram more of his 
prick into her engorged mouth. She could feel the hair on his thighs 
brushing lightly against her bare breasts as her mouth worked furiously, 
trying to get more saliva. She could hear her own sucking sounds as she 
worked at his rigid prong. Her buttocks were bouncing up and down on the bed 
and the back of her neck ached from the fury with which she lapped and 
tongued the throbbing cock. 

She heard Tom's strangled gasp at the same moment she became so hot herself 
she couldn't stand it. She slipped a hand down between her thighs quickly 
and slid a finger into her dripping vaginal orifice. She began frigging 
herself frantically in time to the in-and-out movement of her constricted 
mouth upon Tom's hard meat. 

"Oh, Jesus!" Tom groaned. His hips jerked forward, and his spurting erection 
hurt Joan's sucking mouth from the force with which he shoved it at her. Hot 
spurts of fluid jetted deep into her throat, and Joan gargled and swallowed 
desperately as she was filled nearly to choking with Tom's sperm. She forced 
the warm liquid down her throat as quickly as she could as it refilled her 
mouth with her cheeks feeling as though they would burst. 

Tom sagged forward against her as she drained the last of his come, and he 
happened to look downward to where Joan's hand was between her wide open 
legs, frantically trying to finger-fuck herself to a climax. He reached down 
and grabbed her hand, pulling it away as her finger emerged from her wet 
pussy-lips with a noisy sucking sound. "The hell with that!" he said loudly. 
"I'll let you know when you're supposed to come!" 

Red in the face from shame at having been caught fingering herself, Joan was 
still aflame with the latent volcano between her legs. The inner walls of 
her cunt were grabbing frantically at each other in place of the desired 
prick that wasn't there. "Oh, please!" Joan moaned, all reservation gone. 
"Put your finger in! Please put it in!" 

"Nothing doing," he said flatly. "That's mine, and I'll take care of it when 
I'm ready." 

Joan rubbed her vagina back and forth on the bedcover, trying to set up a 
counter-irritant to the heat in her loins. She couldn't ever remember being 
so hot. And the big thick prick which could have brought surcease to her 
aching cunt was now limply deflated. Joan leaned forward and feverishly 
attempted to lip the shriveled penis back into her mouth. Tom pulled away 
from her, and a thin stream of come trailed from her lips. She reached for 
his thighs to try to hold him in place but he slapped her hands away. 

"I'll bring it back up for you!" she promised eagerly. "I'll bring it right 
back up!" 

"When are you going to get it through your empty blonde head that we do what 
I want and not what you want!" he growled at her. 

Joan thought she was going to cry from frustration. The wet-looking, 
dangling cock between Tom's damp thighs was no good to her twitchingly 
febrile twat. Surreptitiously she tried again to create enough friction by 
rubbing her pussy-lips on the rough bedcover to allay her burning itch, but 
Tom realized suddenly what she was doing. He pushed her onto her side, and 
Joan sobbed aloud. 

"You're the hottest damn cunt I've seen in years!" Tom exclaimed. There was 
a wondering note in his voice. "And here you look like you're still in 
diapers with that sweet, innocent face!" He stared down at her sprawled 
nudity, lushly-curved flesh abundantly displayed. "Tell you what I'll do," 
he said in a milder tone. "You can see I can't fuck you now, so tell me what 
you want me to do to your cunt and I'll do it." 

Joan raised her head hopefully. "Oh, God, please do!" She was shivering. 
"I'm going crazy! Please do it to me!" 

"Do what?" he demanded inexorably. "I'll give you a choice. Do you want to 
be frigged or sucked?" 

Joan stared up into his face miserably while she tried to force the word 
from her dry throat. "S-sucked," she whispered finally. 

"Louder," Tom demanded. 

"Sucked!" Joan declared desperately. Her face was scarlet. 

"That's better," he grunted. "Roll onto your back." 

She did so at once, her hips plunging deeply into the bed's softness as her 
legs widened and her gaping vulva pointed directly at him. She still 
couldn't believe she had humiliated herself to the point of asking for such 
an indecency to be performed upon her, but the fire in her flesh was a cruel 
taskmaster. How could she ever face herself tomorrow when this madness over? 
Tears of embarrassment, confusion, and desire flowed down her cheeks. 

Tom knelt in front of her and she glanced wishfully at his prick but it was 
still shriveled. He picked up her foot and before she realized what he was 
doing he pressed a warm kiss upon her arch. A ripple of sensation ran up her 
leg; she had never had her foot kissed before. Then she felt his tongue 
licking its way from her arch up to her calf. The tongue flicked wetly at 
her knee and then at her thigh, and Joan's legs jerked. Harry had never 
offered to kiss her pussy, so she didn't really know what to expect from a 
man although girl friends in college had tongued her cunt expertly. 

Tom slowly worked his mouth around to her inner thighs, and Joan's fever and 
anticipatory excitement increased. She reached for his head to pull him down 
tightly to the pink, open lips of her yearning slit, but he pushed her hands 
away. He proceeded at his own pace until Joan felt his breath warmly upon 
her flower-like crevice, a luxuriously voluptuous sensation. 

Tom raised his head and looked at Joan staring down between her breasts at 
himself crouched between her parted legs. "Ready to be eaten?" he grinned at 
her. "Tell me." 

"Yes," she said clearly. "Eat me. Eat me!" 

Her whole body began to .vibrate involuntarily as he lowered his head again 
and parted the fleece-lined cunt-lips with his fingers as he darted his hot 
tongue at the burning, puffy bud of her clitoris. 

"Ohhhhh, Goddddd!' she groaned, thrusting the platform of her cunt upward 
into his face eagerly. Tom flicked her with his tongue again, rotating it 
this time on her most sensitive area. Joan's mind reeled with pleasurable 
sensuality. His tongue was so hard! She never remembered a girl who could 
stir her to this pitch of excitement. Her breath was coming in quick gasps. 
She felt a tremendous urge to come, but seemed hung on the brink. 

The hard tongue slid from Joan's clitoris down her damp, lightly-bearded 
furrow to the yawning gap of her quivering cunt. The tongue surged into her 
channel and probed its wet walls. "Oooooooh!" Joan whimpered. "Harder!" 

The tongue continued to lick at her, pushing deeply into her wet-walled 
interior while Tom's hands slid beneath her and clutched at the cheeks of 
her behind. Joan's whole body felt damp with perspiration as the finger of 
one hand moved deeply into the rupture between her hind cheeks and traced 
the perspiration-dampened course from pink gash to brown anus. She wriggled 
uneasily as the finger glided from the milky flesh of her round 
bottom-globes to the tight little ring of her ass-hole. She flinched as the 
finger probed and then jabbed at her rubbery buttonhole. "You've got the 
wrong place!" she whispered. 

He raised his face from her juicy cunt to reply. "Don't tell me I've got the 
wrong place!" he snapped, and jabbed at her shrinking flesh with his finger 
again. 

"Don't stop!" she begged as his mouth failed to return to her languishing 
pussy. "Eat it some more." Her eyes caught sight of a resurgence of his 
erection jutting forth from his lower belly. "Ooooooh, look at that!" She 
splayed her thighs even more widely and thrust up her pouting pink gash to 
receive the hard rod of flesh for which it longed. 

Instead, Tom's finger toyed for another moment with her anus, forcing its 
way in to the first joint several times as Joan worried her lower lip with 
her teeth. It hurt, and she wished he would drop it and get on with 
satisfying her lubricated cunt. "Turn over," Tom said suddenly. 

Joan remained motionless for an instant. What was he going to do? With Harry 
she had never had sex except in the male superior position. A married girl 
friend had told her of the pleasure to be obtained from doing it 
dog-fashion, but Harry hadn't been inclined to experiment. 

Tom pinched her right buttock, a hard, twisting pinch, and Joan flopped over 
onto her stomach with tears in her eyes. "The sooner you get to understand 
you're to do as you're told the better," he informed her grimly. "Spread 
your legs." 

She did so fearfully, and Tom's hard hands massaged the fleshy globes of her 
sweat-damp, yielding buttocks. His thumbs spread her hind cheeks so widely 
she felt that everything deep within her cleft was exposed, including the 
dainty elasticized brown ring of her anus. Joan clinched her sphincter 
muscles tightly. Surely he didn't intend to--? 

The next instant she felt his lips kissing her bare behind and his tongue 
slithering to her virgin anus and licking at it. "Oooooh!" she cried as a 
new wave of pleasure enveloped her. Her crotch and thigh juncture felt so 
juicy she was sure she was getting the bed wet. But then her voice trailed 
off uncertainly as the hard finger returned to the dark cavern between her 
croup-cushions and probed at her anal opening. 

Joan clenched her buttock muscles as tightly as she could, fighting the 
intruder. "Please, no!" she exclaimed warily. "Please! You're-oww!-you're 
hurting-me!" 

"Relax, bitch!" he snarled at her as he pushed his finger into her tiny 
opening to the first knuckle. He watched with delight Joan's squirming 
behind as he pushed still harder into her hard-resisting core. Her knees 
were clawing frantically at the bed and she wailed aloud as the finger 
pierced her. With a final thrust Tom inserted his finger all the way until 
his palm pressed flat against the plump, wriggling cheeks of Joan's 
backside. 

"Oww! Owww! Ohhhhh! It-hurts! Oooooh! Please-stop!" she gasped, hardly able 
to get her breath through the exquisite pain lancing her whole buttock area. 

"Quiet, sweetie," Tom said calmly. "Wait till you feel my prick in there." 

Joan thought she would faint. Buggering, she had heard it called, but the 
thought that it might happen to her was an impossibility the mind boggled at 
conceiving. She began to struggle in earnest. If this brute was serious, he 
might injure her. She might even have to go to the hospital. That huge prick 
thrust into her tiny, tight little ass-hole ... it was a manifest 
inaccessibility. 

But he began to rotate his finger deep inside her anus to loosen the 
passage. There was a cruel grin on his face as he felt the soft, buttery 
smoothness inside her rectum as he skewered her. Joan, writhing under his 
ruthless penetration of her, thought her whole bottom was afire. It seemed 
as though she was going to be torn open. A second later she shrieked as she 
thought his finger had suddenly grown larger only to realize that he had 
urged a second finger in alongside the first in her quivering flesh. 

Joan was sobbing openly, blubbering like a spanked child. The piercing pain 
tore at her interior like a fiery dart. Rage mingled with her pain, rage 
that she was unable to prevent this exploitation of her flesh, but then the 
pain became so intensified that it drove everything else out of her mind. 
"Oww! Ohhhh! No! No! Owww! Oh, dear God, please stop!" she pleaded 
helplessly. 

For an instant she thought she had touched his cruel heart. The fingers 
pulled out of her aching rectum with a loud popping sound. "Oh, thank God, 
thank God!" Joan moaned, then heard her own voice soar almost to a scream as 
she felt Tom lowering his weight upon her back and his long, thick cock 
gliding up the damp crevice of her buttocks to her aching ass-hole. "No!" 
she wailed. "No! No! No!" 

"You're going to love this," Tom told her confidently. "It'll only hurt for 
a few seconds." 

Joan's eyes bulged in terror as she flinched from the great prong digging at 
her shrinking, puckered anus. Tom worked his way forward slightly on her 
perspiring back and pushed against the sphincter muscle with which Joan 
fought to keep him outside. But the previous finger-penetration had left the 
muscle tired and sore. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Joan screeched as she felt the 
red-crowned head of the big prick lunge its way into her agonized rectum. 
She thought she was being split in two. 

Above her Tom grunted noisily as he thrust with his hips to force his prick 
into her straining rectum in quarter-inch increments. The pressure on the 
head of his fleshy rod was driving him half out of his mind with pleasure. 
He gained more ground with short lunges that buried him more deeply between 
her hind cheeks. 

Joan pounded on the bed with the flat of her hands as the fiery dagger 
forced its way farther and farther inside. She seemed to have no voice left. 
It hurts so, it hurts so, it hurts so, her brain screamed tiredly over and 
over again. Her entire body ached with the effort-the unavailing effort-of 
repelling the ravaging prick in her distended anus. 

And then there was a pause... 

Joan raised her head inquiringly. Tom hadn't pulled out of her rectum, she 
knew; she still felt stuffed beyond belief back there. But the pain? It was 
gone, exactly, but it seemed to have moved to the background while a 
strangely half-expectant, anticipatory-breathless sensation took over. 

Then Tom began to move upon her, sliding his big prick for inches in and out 
of her loosened passage. She was actually being fucked in the ass-hole, she 
thought wonderingly. The impossible was actually taking place. The big cock 
massaged hidden areas of virgin flesh in an almost snuggling manner. She 
felt the palpation of her buttock cheeks under the weight of Tom's body at 
each thrust he made into her rectum. A hot coal suddenly ignited in Joan's 
straining cunt. Was she losing her mind? She was beginning to enjoy this 
ass-poking! 

Tom fucked her expanding flesh steadily, and Joan raised her hips 
tentatively. She was at once flattened on her belly again by Tom's next 
surge which seemed to penetrate even more thoroughly. Joan thrust her bottom 
upward again, meeting his next lunge. "Oooh!" she grunted as the big prick 
smacked into her rear. It was half-painful, half-stimulating. "Ohh! Ohhh! 
Ohhh! Ohhh!" she murmured steadily as Tom's ass-fucking of her continued. 

Tom's body dripped sweat upon her own lathered flesh as they both worked 
harder. Joan couldn't understand herself. She was being used as she had 
thought only animals were used, and she was enjoying it. The prick in her 
anus was now moving in and out almost freely. The friction so stimulated her 
already aroused cunt that incredibly she felt on the verge of coming. 

Tom's movements began to quicken and she sensed that the tight constriction 
afforded his cock by her ass-hole was taking its toll. His weight pounded 
her as he plunged frenziedly in and out of her now-lubricated rectum. Joan 
heard herself squealing in mingled pain and pleasure as his frantic efforts 
pierced new depths. He jerked spastically upon her back as hot sperm burst 
from his prick, rocketing into her pierced rectum. "Ahhhhhhhh!" he yelled in 
her ear as he came in throbbing bursts. 

The thick semen felt soothing to Joan's lacerated flesh. For an instant she 
felt she was standing on tiptoe, and then she was flinging her hips upward 
onto the prick still impaling her rear while she ground her pelvis 
lasciviously against the bed. Lightning bolts coursed through her flesh as 
she writhed furiously. "Ohh! Ohh! Ohh!" she cried out as her convulsions 
wrenched her. "There it-is!" Humping her middle up and down, she came with a 
blinding force that threatened to leave her senseless. She had never known 
such a climax. 

She fell forward on the bed with a moan, exhausted. With the cessation of 
tactile sensibility caused by her tremendous sexual arousal, the pain in her 
rectum returned. Not nearly like before, but it was definitely sore. Tom's 
prick, still not fully subdued, remained inside her. She whimpered when he 
started to withdraw despite his sperm-lubricating deluge of her interior. 
Her sore anus was still terribly tight. 

With a yank Tom pulled his deflating penis from her rectum with a whooshing 
sound. "Ouch!" Joan said clearly, rolling onto her side when freed from 
Tom's weight. She extended a hand behind her to tenderly explore her ravaged 
ass-hole. It felt wet and slippery to her examining finger, and very, very 
tender. 

Tom was standing beside the bed, grinning at her. "I hope you're satisfied!" 
she said resentfully. "Doing something like that to me!" Hot color flooded 
her cheeks at the thought of the indignities heaped upon her. 

"For now," he said calmly. 

"For now?" she echoed, then sat up on the bed in alarm, wincing at the 
stress her weight placed on her sore rear end. "You don't mean--? " 

"I mean we'll probably be doing something different the next time," he said 
coolly. 

Joan sat silently for a moment, digesting his implication. She certainly 
couldn't cross this man until she had a chance to talk to Harry. And if 
Harry should confirm that he had actually succumbed to temptation and dipped 
into trust funds ... well, to still Tom's tongue it looked as though Joan 
Welby couldn't easily say no to anything her husband's best friend demanded. 

The train of thought reminded her of something. "You said earlier, Tom," she 
began, then hesitated. 

"Yes?" he answered. 

"You didn't mean it before when you said that Alice knew all about this, did 
you? And that you'd-you'd tell her about what-" a rush of color surged 
upward from Joan's breasts to her features "-what you did to me?" 

Tom Carter laughed heartily. "Let me tell you what I have in mind for you 
and Alice, sweetie. I'm going to have you both bare-ass in the same bed and 
fuck you one after the other." Joan's eyes widened and her breathing nearly 
stopped. "And Harry will be standing right there to watch it." 

"Oh?" Joan exclaimed. "What a terrible thing to say!" 

"You'll love it," Tom predicted breezily. "And any resentment Harry has, he 
can take out of Alice's ass." His grin was sardonic. "She won't mind a bit." 

"You're the-the crudest-" Words failed Joan as she struggled for composure. 
Did this man actually mean what he was saying? With a sinking heart she 
realized that based upon his attitude and actions with her he undoubtedly 
meant every word of it. What on earth was she going to do? 

"How's your ass-hole?" Tom inquired. Joan blushed at the vulgarity. "I 
suppose you think it'll never hold your shit again?" She covered her face 
with her hands. His effrontery was cosmic. "You'd better take a little milk 
of magnesia tonight," he went on lightly. "You don't want any big turds for 
the next couple of days." Behind her hands Joan started to cry again at his 
deliberate humiliation of her. "I don't know why you women are so touchy 
about your excretory processes," Tom said irritatedly. "You'll be as good as 
new in a couple of days, so stop worrying."' 

She sat on the bed, sobbing, while he regarded her with a sour smile. "What 
the hell, you liked it, didn't you?" he demanded. "You blew your load. Admit 
it." He shook his head in semi-admiring fashion. "You're a hot piece of ass, 
sweetie. Harry doesn't know what the hell he's missing. But I know, and 
we'll make a little music together. I'm going to get dressed now and get on 
home-to my loving wife. No need for you to come downstairs. I'll let you 
know when we'll get together again." 

He strode from the bedroom, still naked except for his socks, a forceful, 
compelling man whom Joan regarded with fear mixed with a bit of grudging 
admiration. Certainly no other man had made her experience the heights that 
Tom Carter had. 

Joan remained on the bed until she heard the front door close downstairs. 

Then she slid painfully from the bed and went into the bathroom to draw a 
tub of soothing hot water to ease the aches in her hard-used body. 

Tom Carter undressed and tossed his clothes to one side as he reported the 
night's adventures to Alice who sat propped in almost the same position on 
the bed as when he had left her. "It was easier than I thought, because she 
was hornier than I thought," he said with satisfaction. "And I mean I really 
put it to her." 

"Really?" Alice asked curiously. 

"Really," Tom said emphatically. "I fucked her cunt, sucked her cunt, and 
fucked her ass-hole." 

Alice's slender legs moved nervously on the bed. "Did you have to use the 
embezzlement?" she asked. 

"I used it for emphasis," he said. "And pretty soon you'll be having Harry 
plowing in your garden, love. How will you like that?" 

The tip of Alice's tongue circled her lips. 

""You know I'll like it, but never as well as I like it with you." 

It was the truth, and they both knew it. Married for sixteen years, swappers 
from the first year of their marriage, it was still better for them with 
each other than with anyone else. Not that that helped the couples who fell 
into Tom's net. Most of the men found work elsewhere as soon as possible to 
escape Tom's ruthless exploitation of their wives. 

Naked, he sat on the edge of the bed. Alice's eyes went to his limp cock. 
"It's all red-looking," she said. 

"Joan had a really tight ass-hole," he explained. 

"I'd love to have seen you doing it to her," Alice said wistfully. 

"You will," Tom said confidently. He smiled at his wife. "Just as she'll see 
me doing it to you." 

Once again Alice's pink tongue circled her lips. Tom knew the signs. 
"Getting hot at the thought, my dear? Getting a picture of me plowing your 
back garden while Joan and Harry stand there watching?" 

"Yes," she whispered, moving her legs restlessly. "Are you-can you do 
something for me now? I'm-I know I won't be able to sleep otherwise." 

"Well, now, I'd say that depends on what you can do for the young man 
between my legs," Harry said comfortably. "Unless-" He stooped quickly and 
felt under the bed. "Well, well, well," he continued, holding up a box of 
chocolates. "What have we here?" He fixed Alice with a stern gaze. "What 
about that diet you're on?" 

"I only had one, honestly," Alice pleaded. "Well, two. I'll go right back on 
the diet tomorrow, really I will, Tom. Honestly. I'll-" 

"Alice," Tom cut into her babbling. 

"Y-yes?" 

"You know the rule. Get the paddle." 

"Oh, please, Tom! Not this late at night! I have to play bridge tomorrow, 
and I'd never be able to sit! I only had one little piece, or maybe two, 
and-" 

"Get the paddle, Alice. You know perfectly well that going off your diet 
means a sizzling hot behind for you. Get going." 

His tall, black-haired wife slid reluctantly from the bed and walked in her 
negligee and nightgown to the bureau. She stooped and opened the bottom 
drawer from which she removed a three-inch wide, lightweight leather paddle. 
She recrossed the room and handed it to her husband. "Not the paddle, Tom," 
she pleaded swiftly. "Not for two little chocolates. Just your hand, please? 
You know how that awful thing burns up my poor bottom." 

"I do indeed," he declared with satisfaction. "Get across the bed." 

"Oh, God!" Alice Carter lamented, one hand behind her upon the rounded flesh 
scarcely concealed by her nightwear, but she walked meekly to the bed and 
knelt down upon it. 

 CHAPTER IV 

Tom Carter approached his wife, stern-faced. He slapped the paddle across 
his open palm, and Alice recoiled at the explosive sound. All too well she 
knew the devilish sting of the little instrument upon her soft bare flesh. 
The flexible paddle, while it had no weight, created an intolerable smarting 
burn in sleekly globular female buttocks. 

In addition to the paddle which Alice eyed apprehensively, Tom carried a 
necktie in his hand. He set the paddle down on the bed while he took Alice's 
wrists and placed them together, then tied them with the necktie. "Don't tie 
me, Tom," Alice pleaded even as Tom was accomplishing exactly that with the 
speed born of practice. "Please don't tie me. I feel-I feel so helpless." 

"You are helpless," her husband informed her coldly, testing the double-knot 
binding Alice's wrists. "Now get your stupid bare ass into position while I 
whale it for you." 

Alice shivered at the remorseless note in Tom's voice. She knew it did no 
good to plead, but she couldn't help herself. She knew, too, that the little 
paddle hadn't weight enough to inflict subcutaneous injury even in an 
inexperienced hand-and Tom was dexterity itself-but foreknowledge of the 
fiery immolation awaiting her white-skinned tender fanny turned her stomach 
to jello. 

Tensely she lowered her head once more until it rested upon her bound wrists 
while she elevated her backside. Tom took hold of the bottom edge of her 
negligee and nightgown and threw them well up on the slope of her long, 
smooth back, exposing in the fullest Alice's delectable plump hind cheeks, 
fleshy almost to the point of being fat. The diet she had broken was no joke 
with Alice; she loved the feel of her own unrestrained flesh in just wispy 
underwear beneath street clothes. Correspondingly, she hated girdles, and 
the diet had been contrived to stop the spread of her glisteningly tubby 
backside and control her incipient stomach-paunchiness with its distressing 
little roll of belly-fat. 

Not that Tom really needed the excuse of discovering she had broken her diet 
to use the paddle on her. Any excuse was good enough when he felt in the 
mood to do so, and he would search patiently to find her derelict in some 
duty so that he might bare Alice's matronly rump and flagellate it as he 
would a naughty schoolgirl's. Alice knew there would be gratification 
afterward, that Tom was working himself up in this manner to sexual 
carnality in which she would be the beneficiary, but in the anxious seconds 
preceding the employment of the devilish little paddle to soundly swat her 
quivering behind and turn it scarlet, the knowledge was of small comfort. 

Tom gazed down with satisfaction upon Alice's upturned global spheres with 
the portly, creamy nude body cushions spread widely from his wife's 
deep-plunging cleft. So backthrust were her hind cheeks and so complete her 
exposure that Tom could see faint wisps of the curly black fleece 
surmounting her love nest popping between her upper thighs. 

Alice was kneeling with her sacrificial shining white buttocks pointing 
outward and almost overhanging the edge of the bed. Tom moved closer and 
slipped his left arm around her nude waist to hold her in position. Then he 
raised his right arm, and Alice's tender rotundities clenched 
apprehensively. 

Swish-crack! 

"Oooooh!" Alice exclaimed involuntarily as the paddle rebounded crisply from 
her soft bottom. They both knew it had been a moderate stroke, but the quick 
bite of the paddle upon her poised hind parts seemed to blossom into an 
immediate burning throb which slipped below the surface and simmered hotly. 

Swish-crack! Swish-crack! Swish-crack! 

Alice bit her lip to refrain from adding to her first outcry which had been 
surprised from her. Tom insisted that she not play the baby. The only sound 
in the room in addition to the explosive impacts of the paddle upon her nude 
seat, obscenely loud, was Alice's own heavy breathing. 

Swish-crack! Swish-crack! Swish-crack! Swish-crack! 

"Oh, Tom!" Alice murmured anguishedly. Her heavy globes, pinkening rapidly 
under the paddle's hot kisses, rotated uneasily in a semicircular motion. 
"Tom! Not so h-hard, Tom!" Alice sounded breathless as she tried to hold her 
voice down. 

Swish-crack! Swish-crack! Swish-crack! Swish-crack! 

Tom Carter steadily pursued his wife's agitated bare backside, searching out 
white areas of her writhing corpulent hind cheeks which the paddle 
immediately turned first blush-pink and then rosy. Alice's backside, 
revolting independently of her desire to act the spartan as Tom swished, 
heaved and humped against the restraining arm around her waist until in her 
struggles Tom could see flashing glimpses of her sex at the base of her 
belly, and his big prick rose like a sword. 

Swish-crack! "Owww!" Alice bleated. Swish-crack! "Oooooh!" Frantically she 
swished her scalded posterior from side to side in the limited range 
permitted it by Tom's grip upon her waist. Swish-crack! "O w w w w w w! 
Ohhh, it-" Swish-crack! "-ooooh! It hurts, Tom! It h-hurts!" 

Heedless of his wife's pleading and the frantic contortions of her plunging 
buttocks, now turning a bright red in their fullest positions, Tom dealt 
Alice's furiously contorted vermillioned behind another dozen torrid swats 
which redoubled the conflagration in her glowing hindquarters. "Where does 
it hurt?" he asked finally, pausing for an instant. 

"MY ASS!" Alice cried out immediately, knowing what he wanted. "My ass! 
Ooooooh, Tom! TOM!! ! " 

He gave her a half dozen more while her cries increased. The paddle seemed 
to rebound from the crimsoning flesh with even more devastating impact upon 
the recipient. Alice's outcries soared shrilly. "Tommmmm! Owwwww! OWWWWW! 
Ooh, my bottom! My b-bottom!! Owwwww! Tommmmm! N-no more! Please! PLEASE! 
Owwwwww! I'll do-ohhhhhh-I-anything you want! Please! Owwww!" 

Ruthlessly he flailed her ruby-colored rotundities with loud-sounding 
salutes of the pliable leather upon her frenziedly plunging, perspiring 
flesh. Alice tried to turn herself inside out to escape the fiendishly 
scorching, blisteringly pyrotechnic descents of the paddle upon the bonfire 
that was her broiling fundament, but in vain. Her shrieks for mercy 
increased in frequency and volume. Her frantic contortions succeeded merely 
in bringing an occasional area of comparatively unspanked flesh beneath the 
paddle to her increased distress. 

Deliberately Tom poured another hail of explosive-sounding wallops upon 
Alice's blushing, almost brick-red rear, coming up on his toes each time 
from the expenditure of effort. Alice's shrieks had died away to strangled 
sobs and long moaning gasps as the hot flame built up in her revolving 
posterior, and Tom stopped suddenly and flung the paddle on the bed. 

He continued to hold Alice for another moment, watching curiously as her 
seething backside continued to writhe. With the hand that had held the 
paddle he stroked her heated flesh gently, fondling the round globes that 
felt rough and pebbled under his palm. Alice sobbed convulsively as her 
florid buttocks slowed from their unseemly dance. 

Tom unknotted the tie from Alice's wrists, and both hands immediately went 
behind her as she rubbed feverishly at her blazing flesh. She straightened 
up painfully and immediately crawled stiffly from the bed. For an instant 
she did a little jig from one foot to the other while her palms still 
clasped her crimsoned hind parts, then she dropped to the lush carpeting on 
the floor and dragged her bare bottom over its surface in an effort to set 
up a counter-irritant to the incandescent torment in her backside. Tom 
smiled at his wife's childish reaction. 

He waited until her first involuntary reaction had subsided to free-flowing 
tears as Alice rolled onto her side and massaged her spanked behind, the 
outer quadrants of which had already faded from their previous cherry-red to 
a coral-pink. Tom had witnessed the transformation many times before, and he 
always marveled at the recovery powers of the female behind. He had never 
found it necessary to gag Alice or any other of the female recipients of his 
paddling experiments; the isolated nature of the wooded area in which the 
Carter house was a lonely sentinel precluded the necessity. Tom had in fact 
chosen the location with that very point in mind. 

He walked to where Alice was still crouched on the floor. "Look, dear," he 
said. "I have something for you." 

She looked up, red-eyed, and saw his massive erection. He recognized the 
quick glint in her eyes as something more than still unshed tears. "Ohhhhh, 
T-Tom," she whispered. "That was a d-dreadful paddling!" 

"You've had worse," he said briskly, and extending a hand downward to hers, 
raised her to her feet. Her negligee and nightgown were draped sloppily over 
her shoulders, and he pulled them off over her head. He took her plump 
nudity in his arms, against his own, passing his hands around behind her, 
and for a moment they stood there with his aroused prick prodding her soft 
lower belly while their four hands massaged Alice's roseate, strappingly 
brimful big haunches. 

Tom was mentally savoring the upcoming few moments no less than the 
preceding ones. Despite his philandering and his manipulation of women, he 
loved his wife, and never more so than when she came to his bed in a 
subdued, tearful, meek-little-mouse manner. It turned him on tremendously, 
and they had both learned long ago that after a paddling Alice was no less 
turned on. 

She stirred in his arms, sighed tiredly, then kissed him first on the neck 
and then on the lips. She placed her lips against his ear as she removed one 
hand from its stroking motion of her inflamed seat and took hold of Tom's 
stiff-standing prick. "Ohhhh, God, I'm h-hot!" she murmured against his ear. 
"My ass is hot, and my pussy is h-hot." She tried to smile, blinking away 
her tears. "Wh-what are you going to do about it, s-sir?" 

In response he picked her up and carried her to the bed. She whimpered as 
his supporting arm pressed against her poignantly tender buttocks, and 
whimpered again as he stretched her out on the bed on her back and her 
still-sore behind absorbed her weight, but her mind was already on other 
things. She widened her legs eagerly as Tom crawled onto her belly. 
Surprisingly, considering Tom's experiments with other women, the Carters' 
marital bed was seldom the scene of experiments. Their bed-partnership was 
ritual but never boring. For Alice it was always as good as the first time 
in which Tom had reduced her to molten plasticity where the boys in her 
crowd whom she had permitted liberties merely stirred her momentarily. 

Tom's mouth sought hers and covered it. Alice plunged her tongue hungrily 
between his lips and Tom sucked at the tip of her tongue. She nibbled at his 
lower lip while she traced the inside of his mouth with her tongue. She was 
grateful to her husband for permitting her to enjoy various men in bed from 
time to time, but it was with him that she really outdid herself. She was 
jealous of Tom's many women occasionally, too, until his ardent lovemaking 
upon such an occasion as this when he had already spent half the night 
fucking a younger woman still found him eager for Alice's well-fleshed body 
and accustomed ways. It proved to her that he really loved her in the way it 
counted most, and it was a source of great satisfaction to her. For Tom she 
would do anything, and had. 

He dropped down a little lower upon her and fastened his hot mouth upon a 
large breast with its perky nipple. A welling tide of feeling dampened 
Alice's loins, already wet from the usual hot-aftermath of her paddling, Her 
breasts were among her most sensitive areas sexually, and Tom never 
neglected them. He sucked and chewed lovingly upon a generous teat, gulping 
whole areas of her breast inside his wet mouth while his teeth teasingly 
grazed her jutting nipple. Then he transferred his attention to the other 
breast. Alice's knees quivered. 

She reached down between their bodies and took hold of Tom's prick. She 
stroked its rigid length while her pussy salivated expectantly at the poking 
it was shortly to receive. Nothing on earth gave Alice the pleasure that 
Tom's prick stuffing her cunt did, and anything was worth it to maintain it. 

His hands stroked her sleek sides as he lifted himself and rearranged their 
positions slightly on the bed. He placed a pillow beneath Alice's head which 
he knew she liked. No pillow was necessary beneath the billowing soft flesh 
of her hips. Tom kissed her ear, biting at the lobe, then darted his tongue 
inside while Alice squirmed in delight. She hardly felt the heat in her 
paddled behind any more. Tom ran his tongue in quicksilver fashion down her 
neck, across her shoulders, over her breasts, lingering at her nipples 
again, stimulating them to swell even more tightly. Occasionally Tom had 
brought Alice to orgasm just by skillful manipulation of her breasts and 
nipples, but this time she wanted much more. 

His mouth descended to her rounded, slightly protuberant belly which she 
knew he loved in moments like this even though he had tart things to say 
about it when he saw her in a new dress. His lips played with the abundance 
of her flesh in its feminine relaxation. Anticipation heightened Alice's 
excitement. She felt his lips working their way down to the darkly bearded 
soft pubescence that curled lightly around her yearning pussy. 

As Tom's lips nibbled at her and excruciatingly delightful darts of sepsual 
emotion bathed her body, he slowly moved his own around so that his penis 
neared Alice's head. At the same time he lifted one of his legs over her 
head and placed it on the other side, Tom ran his tongue down to the top 
portion of her pink love slit, parting its moist lips with his thrusting 
tongue. His big prong and hairy testicles hung directly above Alice's face. 
She grasped his prick and played with it, teasing it with her fingertips, 
while prickling sensations rose from between her legs as Tom licked steadily 
downward. 

Alice's womanly, juicy sweetness that Tom was lavishing mouth-caresses upon 
felt almost as hot as her poor behind had a few moments previously. She 
raised her head slightly to bring Tom's prick closer to her mouth as a tiny 
drop of clear liquid decorated the opening in the red-purple, turgid head. 
Alice licked away the drop of liquid, savoring its taste upon her lips. Then 
she widened her mouth and slowly introduced the head of the huge 
pussy-bumper inside her mouth where her lips closed upon it firmly. Down 
below it felt as though Tom had his tongue up to the last quarter-inch 
thrust incredibly deep inside her soft, wet flesh. 

Alice mouthed the whole head of Tom's prick inside her mouth, pulling the 
foreskin back and teasing the glans with her lips. She felt his thighs on 
either side of her head contract, and she smiled inwardly. She knew she was 
giving him pleasure, and she knew she always would. She rocked her head a 
bit, loving the big head with her whole mouth. Down below she spread her 
legs even wider to afford Tom greater access to the slaveringly hot temple 
of love between her thighs. 

Her stomach muscles fluttered as his tongue bored into her fuck-hole as a 
laughing uncle had taught her to call it at the age of five to her mother's 
indignation. Then his lips played with the puckery flesh at her entrance, 
parting her midnight-black body hairs to grace fervently at the tender 
ruby-lips. She pulled more of Tom's engorged prong into her mouth, wetting 
its length with her saliva. The penis-veins throbbed in her mouth. Alice 
sucked harder, then choked as she started to gag. She controlled the choking 
sensation and tried to swallow even more of the prick. Among all the men Tom 
had permitted to fuck her, none had a prick as big as her husband's. 

The tip rubbed against the roof of her mouth in a sensation just short of 
tickling. All her feelings seemed to be rooted in her cock-gorged mouth and 
tongue-filled cunt as Tom ate at her perfervidly. She could smell her own 
exuding femaleness along with the male odor of Tom's prick and balls 
dangling above her filled cheeks. What must the odor be like for him down 
below with his nose and mouth buried in it? She arched her thighs upward, 
unconscious of the disclosure of part of her big backside, rapidly bleaching 
but still incarnadined at its fullest portions. She tried to engulf Tom's 
face between the pouting, reddening cunt-lips he was ravaging with his 
questing mouth. 

She could feel a quick tremor shudder through him, and she at once released 
her mouth-grip upon his cock. She wanted that monster inside her, although 
ordinarily she enjoyed making him come in her mouth. Tom slowly removed his 
lips from her ravenous pussy as though reluctant to finish his meal. Alice 
watched as he turned himself around above her prostrate body, then slid 
downward again. 

His big hands took hold of her splayed thighs and moved them upward until 
Alice doubled them against her breasts. Her tautened buttock flesh was 
lifted until Tom could reach it with his lips. He kissed with fervor all of 
her backside he could reach, the still faintly glowing color exciting him as 
he noticed that her paddle-roughened, pebbled hind cheeks were rapidly 
reassuming their usual silken waxiness. The commingled odor of juicy cunt 
and drying sweat was wafted to his nostrils. 

He released her thighs and she spread them widely again for him as he 
lowered himself into fucking position on her belly. Neither of them needed 
to use their hands. Tom's thick cock eased along the short space 
encompassing its pink-lipped target, and then slipped in as easily as Alice 
slipped into a tailored dress. Her cunt fit his prick perfectly, and he 
lodged himself within her with no fuss or strain despite the dimensions of 
his organ. Their flesh was molded to each other after so many years of 
prick-cunt contact. 

Alice breathed deeply as the big cock swelled in her cavern. Tom stroked her 
expertly, slowly at first, then faster and harder. The stout shaft pronged 
her cunt-chute, cosseting her smooth interior walls. The resilient head 
plunged at her yielding cervix as Alice's breathing hoarsened. She wrapped 
her legs tightly around Tom's back and closed her eyes, loving every 
millimeter of his penetration of her quick-grasping core. 

Alice could feel the muscles in her lower abdomen contracting spasmodically. 
"No, no, no!" she panted. "I want it-to last!! " But her voice had told Tom 
she was on the verge. He plunged upon Alice's yielding belly, pummeling her 
willing cunt fiercely with quick thrusts of his big tool. 

"Ohhhh!" Alice gasped. She swiveled her hips upward, pumping hard with her 
heavy hind cheeks. Tom jerked into her love-tunnel with unparalleled energy 
as Alice cradled his head in her arms and felt his hot breath on her 
trembling breasts. She felt him go into an uncontrollable slashing assault 
upon her as his long prick pistoned in and out of her greedy jewel box, and 
she cuddled him to her. She wanted the fuck to be perfect for him. 

Tom rasped a hoarse comment with his lips between Alice's big titties. She 
was about to ask him to repeat it when with a bellow he pumped and pumped 
and pumped upon her belly as his pounding balls shot a load of hot sperm 
through his staff and deluged her churning cunt. " 
Agggggrrrrrrhhhhhhhh-h-h-h!" he roared upon an expiring note as the fast 
jets seemed to trigger Alice's own juices. 

Her back arched as every muscle in her body seemed to contract from the 
pulling sensation deep within her. Her behind flexed madly as her orgasm 
began, ignoring its paddle-induced sensitivity. "Ohhhh!" Alice bleated. 
"Ohhhh! Tom!" Her furiously twitching cunt grabbed hungrily at Tom's prick 
imbedded in her. "Ohh! Ohh! Ohhh! Here it-comes! Oooooh, T-Tom! 
I'm-commmmmmming!" 

Chain lightning flashed around her straining loins and her buttocks heaved 
mightily. She hung suspended on the crest of a huge wave while splinters of 
sensation lanced her to the quick. And then too soon it was over, and she 
lay panting under Tom's weight. Her eyes opened and she ruffled his hair 
with her fingers. 

Tom crawled off her limp body, then patted her plump stomach, still heaving 
from the expenditure of sexual effort. He put his hands under her and rolled 
her over, face down, then placed his face down against her ample nude hind 
cheeks. They retained only a faint blush of color now from the paddle, their 
usual pure white globes showing only a trace of dusty pinkness. 

Slowly Tom kissed every inch of her acquiescent warm bottom as he always did 
after paddling her. He even spread her wide haunches to kiss deep inside 
upon velvety skin untouched by the leather paddle. Passion-sated as she was, 
the intimate touch of his mouth stirred Alice only to drowsy cosiness. She 
loved this after-kissing almost as much as she dreaded the paddle. 

When Tom stopped finally, Alice turned onto her side. Tom dropped down 
beside her, and they rested quietly in each other's arms. "Don't forget 
you'll have Harry Welby's stiff prick romping around in your quim pretty 
soon," Tom said after an interval. "I'll invite them out here for a weekend. 
They can't say no." 

Alice trailed her fingers along the shrunken prick quiescent against Tom's 
thigh. "I know it will excite me when you force her to do things," she said 
slowly. "And then I'll enjoy Harry's prick afterwards." She drew a deep 
breath. "But this is the prick I love having in me." Her fingers tightened 
assuredly upon the prick in her hand. 

Ten minutes later she was asleep with the captive still clasped lightly in 
her fingers. 

Three days later Joan Welby sat nervously in her living room awaiting her 
husband's return. Harry had called from the airport to say he'd be home in 
an hour. On the phone he had sounded unexpectedly cheerful and alert, Joan 
thought. She tried to analyze her own mood as she sat on the couch with her 
palms flat on her thighs. 

She hadn't gotten out of bed the morning after Tom's brutal ass-fucking of 
her. Her rectum had been sore for forty-eight hours, then seemed to come 
around all right. Her mental attitude was something else again. Every time 
she thought of that night she shook her blonde head in despair. Her behavior 
had been the direct antithesis of the lady-like actions she had considered 
her own. What truly shocked her was that despite Tom's abuse of her she had 
enjoyed so much of it. And it was futile to try to deny it. She had actually 
enjoyed it. 

Her hands clenched tightly, and she forced them to open as she tried to 
relax. It wasn't as simple as confessing or not confessing her indiscretion 
to Harry, either. With Tom's threat hanging over both their heads, if what 
he said was true, and Joan felt it was, then they were living on the brink 
of disaster with their every movement subject to Tom Carter's perverted 
whims. 

It wasn't so odd that she had enjoyed it, Joan tried to reason with herself. 
Or enjoyed part of it. After all, she enjoyed sex with Harry whenever it was 
forthcoming. And if Harry hadn't neglected her so much recently, she 
mightn't have been so susceptible to Tom's male dominance. But it's no use 
blaming Harry, she told herself fiercely. It wasn't Harry who had turned her 
into a disgusting little animal. It had been Joan Welby, with carefully 
planned assistance from Tom Carter. 

The front door burst open. "I'm home, honey!" Harry called. Joan rose from 
the couch. He had already told her he had eaten on the plane, but she had 
fixed a snack. He ran into the living room and swept her into his arms, 
kissing her soundly. He seemed much more ebullient, somehow. "Hey, but it's 
great to be home!" he said exuberantly. 

Joan found herself avoiding his eyes. "Would you like a snack? Or a drink?" 
she asked. 

"A drink," he decided. "But I'll fix it." He went to the liquor cabinet. 
"You look a little peaked," he said above the clink of ice, bottles, and 
glasses. 

Joan forced a smile onto her face as she accepted the drink he made for her. 
"Just a little tired, I guess," she said. 

Eventually she had to face him with Tom's accusation, but she didn't know 
how to begin. 

He sat down on the couch beside her and tossed off half his drink in a 
single swallow. "Boy, was this trip ever a welcome relief!" he said. "Except 
that it took me away from you," he added hastily. "But I'm sure glad I'm 
finished with everything that went with my previous job. This new junior 
partnership is going to be peaches and cream." 

"That's nice," Joan said.' It sounded insipid even to her, but she couldn't 
think of anything else to say. With the rug-of the junior partnership apt to 
be pulled out from beneath Harry by Tom, the occasion didn't seem to call 
for much rejoicing from her. 

Harry raised an eyebrow at her lack of enthusiasm, then moved closer to her 
on the couch. Joan almost spilled the balance of her drink when he put his 
arm around her. She barely had time to set it down before he pulled her 
close to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. Her initial reaction was 
resentment. This was a fine time for him to be displaying ardor, she thought 
indignantly. Where were you when I needed you, Harry Welby? 

She didn't pull away, but she didn't return his kiss. He pulled back and 
looked at her. "I don't blame you," he said soberly. "I haven't been much of 
a husband lately, I know. But I've been working such damnably long hours, 
and-and there was another factor. I'll tell you about it sometime." He 
leaned toward her eagerly. "But you can bet it's going to be different 
around here from now on." 

His apology surprised her. Not that it changed much of anything, she 
thought. The sword was still dangling above their heads. She sought for 
words to initiate the question to which she must have the answer for her own 
peace of mind, and couldn't find any. 

And then Harry placed his hand on her knee. His fingers flirted lightly with 
her smooth thigh at her stocking-top, then crept up under her short skirt to 
bare flesh and the lacy bottom edge of her panties. The hand moved over and 
approached the thin material covering her pantied crotch. 

Joan tightened her thighs, and Harry removed his hand. "Are you angry with 
me?" he asked quietly. 

Joan considered her answer. "Not angry," she said at last. "Disappointed. 
For three months you've been neglecting me, in bed and out. Now you expect 
me to turn on like-like a w-whore." Her voice quivered. 

"I thought I just explained it to you," he said with a hint of impatience in 
his tone. He paused. "Or did you think it was another woman?" 

"I don't know what I thought," she said honestly. "Except that I was 
miserable." 

"Well, it wasn't another woman, Joan. I love you. I've always loved you, and 
if I knew the right words I'd tell you how much." 

His words melted her, as they had always melted her, even in their college 
days when he had first coaxed her out of her panties. "Oh, Harry!" she 
sighed as he returned his arm to her waist. A little pulse beat in her 
throat as the back of his hand brushed her brassiered breast. She had missed 
him so desperately.... 

His free hand fumbled eagerly with the zipper on her skirt. This time she 
made no movement to withdraw. Harry drew down the zipper, lifted her 
slightly, and slipped the skirt down until it collapsed about her ankles. 
Immediately he raised her half-slip and laid it up on her stomach until he 
could see her bikini-panties puckered in her crotch with her blonde pubic 
hair showing through faintly, She could hear his quick, indrawn breath. 

Ever so delicately his hand approached her groin and traced tiny arabesques 
with a fingertip upon the smoothly convex bowl of her lower abdomen. Joan 
found herself holding her breath. With no conscious thought her head which 
had been resting against the back of the couch-lolled in Harry's direction, 
and his hard mouth came down and fused upon hers. Her nipples stiffened and 
her toes twitched from the effect of his kiss which went on and on. And then 
the hand poised at her thigh-juncture plunged inward to cup her whole sex 
upon its palm, squeezing lightly, and Joan found herself rubbing her pussy 
furiously against the warm palm. 

"Oh, Jesus!" Harry said huskily when their lips broke apart. "Let's go 
upstairs. I want you to be comfortable." 

"I don't want to be comfortable!" Joan was surprised to hear herself say. "I 
just want you to do it to me!" 

Her husband needed no second invitation. His hands flew over her, 
unfastening snaps and catches. In seconds he had Joan down to her stockings, 
with her strawberry-nippled large breasts boldly probing the air. He kissed 
her breasts as though welcoming old friends returned from a long journey. 
Joan was so swimming with emotion that she knew the second he touched her 
sex-cranny she would gush. He put her on her back on the couch, then stood 
up and undressed hurriedly. It was with a feeling of deep peace that she 
watched his maleness appear. The familiar prick was already straining before 
he removed his shorts. Its familiar circumcised head bobbed into view, 
surmounting its sturdy shaft. Not as large as Tom Carter's, it was still a 
very useful prick. Joan thought comfortably. 

Harry dropped down on the couch beside her, naked. He palmed her breasts, 
slowly, and shivers of delight rippled through her. He turned her onto her 
side to play with the fulsome hind cheeks in which he had always reveled, 
their smoothly nude amplitudes exciting him so that his penis stood forth 
larger than before. Just for an instant Joan had an uneasy thought that some 
trace of Tom Carter's brutal ravishment of her backside might be visible, 
and then she knew she was being foolish. 

She reached for his prick that so aroused her and fondled it. She must try 
to make him happy. Somehow they would work it all out. He was her husband. 
Everything was going to be all right. It was so wonderful having Harry back 
again, eager and ardent, a true lover. They would combine forces against 
their problems. 

Meantime there was this lovely prick that was tickling her stomach as Harry 
crawled onto the couch between her parted legs. 

 CHAPTER V 

Harry paused in his crouched position with his nose a few inches above his 
wife's lily-white round stomach. The mingled aroma of her perfume and the 
delicate scent of her womanly body tantalized his nostrils. He bent lower to 
kiss her belly, so far down on its sweeping curve that his lips grazed at 
the upper edges of the golden fleece of her soft pubic hair. 

Joan's lips formed a little round O of surprise. This was quite an 
innovation for Harry whose lovemaking in the past tended toward the 
unimaginative. Joan almost said something indicative of her astonishment but 
forced herself to remain silent. Because Harry's lips were creeping lower! 
His nose brushed the curly-tufted profusion adorning the apex of her thighs, 
and his lips nibbled with ever so light a touch at the salmon-pink 
approaches of her female rift. 

Joan's delight knew no bounds. She felt so loved when her husband made such 
delicately pleasurable use of her wifely attributes. Instinctively she 
raised her bottom slightly to present even more of her carmined split in its 
furry nest to her husband's browsing lips. Now if he would only- 

She quivered all over as a hard tongue darted into her upturned quim. Ohhhh, 
but that was a gorgeous feeling! She felt wanton beyond words, gratified 
beyond belief. She sighed deeply as the tongue probed her prick-chamber. 
"Oooooh!" she moaned softly despite her previous resolve to say nothing. 
"Don't stop, darling. It feels sooooooo good." 

He paused for an instant in his labors, and she was afraid she had seemed 
too bold. Harry, however, assumed complacently that Joan was exceptionally 
hot because of the absence of sex during his neglect of her. He thought 
fleetingly of his wife masturbating herself to gain some relief, a finger 
curved into herself right where his lips were pressed, and the idea so 
excited him that he plunged his mouth openly upon Joan's captive cunt. 

The thrill sent her legs shooting ceiling-ward, and Harry forced his tongue 
between the pouting lips whose delicious odor was causing his prick to throb 
mightily. He twiddled Joan's budded little clit with the tip of his tongue, 
and she groaned as her warm thighs enveloped his face. He tongued all up and 
down her slit and into it as far as he could reach while her whimpering 
little cries of relish filled the room. 

Harry raised his head from its thigh-enclosed nest finally to look at Joan's 
face. She had been lying with eyes closed, but her lids flew open fearfully, 
thinking she had done something wrong that provoked him. "Would you like 
more of that?" he asked quietly. "Or would you rather have my prick?" 

"Your prick," Joan murmured instantly. "Ooooh, yes, Harry. Your.lovely 
prick!" 

Well, he had known she was sex-starved, Harry thought. He shifted his 
position and lowered himself upon his wife so that his erection nuzzled at 
her sex-opening. Joan's small hand crept down between them, seized the 
desired prick, swollen in its readiness, and steered the rubbery circumcised 
head into her well-sluiced vagina. It glided in, straight and strong, and 
Joan blew out her breath in a sudden access of well-being as her husband's 
tool began to plow her prick-clutching furrow. 

Her two hands groped for Harry's shoulders. The ball game going on in her 
fucking arena was exploding psychedelic lights in her brain. She felt on the 
qui vive of tactile sensibility. The darling prick ramming her liquefied 
cunt was setting off hot sparks inside her. "Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!" she squeaked 
in time to the hard-thrusting prong battering at her love-gate. 
"It's-lovely! Ohhh! Harder! Harder, Tom! Please! Ohhh! Please do it 
h-harder, T-Tom! I'm-" 

She stopped, panic-stricken, when she felt his body go rigid. In the next 
instant she felt his previously hard penis shrivel in its warm nest. She had 
said Tom in her excitement! She had said Tom! 

Harry raised himself on his knees and looked down at her sprawled loosely as 
his shrinking penis pulled out of her gaping wet twat with a squishy sucking 
sound. "You bitch!" he said bitterly. "You had to try that big stud!" 

"No, no, no, no!" Joan pleaded frantically. 

He raised his right hand and slapped her heavily across the face. The room 
seemed to explode before her eyes and involuntary tears streamed from her 
eyes. 

He slapped her again. "Tom fucked you!" he yelled. "Admit it, or I'll 
pulverize your lying face!" 

She screamed with pain. She was afraid she would faint and come to with her 
face destroyed. Harry seemed out of his mind with rage. "Y-yes, he d-did," 
she sobbed. "In his c-convertible the-the night you went away." She was 
sniffling loudly as she tried to check her tears. 

"In his car!" Harry glared at her wildly. "Christ, like a couple of hard-up 
school kids!" 

"He made me," she wailed. "He made me!" 

Harry paid no attention. "Was that the only time?" he demanded. He pointed a 
finger at her. "Don't try to lie to me!" 

Joan sought frantically for an evasion but could think of none. "Here," she 
whispered. "Afterward. The s-same night." 

"In my own house!" Harry roared. He raised his right hand again, and Joan 
flinched. He lowered it as the meaning of her previous statement filtered 
through his anger. "What the hell do you mean he made you? What kind of talk 
is that for a grown woman?" 

"It's the tr-truth!" Joan's tongue circled her tear-salty lips. The left 
side of her face was burning from the force of Harry's angry slaps. "H-he 
said you were m-manipulating an account and if I didn't do what he s-said 
he'd turn you in." 

A curious stillness enveloped Harry as he knelt between Joan's still-parted 
legs. There was a moment of silence. "He said that?" he asked at last. "Tom 
said that?" 

"Yes, he did. T-tell me it's not true, Harry." 

"I can't," he said quietly. His shoulders seemed shrunken. "Because it is 
true. Although how that devil Tom found out is beyond me." He shrugged 
wearily. "God, what a mess." Then his voice sharpened. "Listen, I know that 
sex maniac. Is that all he did to you was fuck you? 

Joan felt herself blushing. "Well-" 

"Go ahead," Harry said grimly. "Tell me." 

"He-he put his big penis in my bottom hole and f-fucked me there." 

"Oh, Jesus," Harry groaned. He dropped down on the sofa beside Joan and put 
his arm around her as she straightened out her legs. "I'm sorry, honey. It's 
all my fault. I wanted you to have things. It killed me when I couldn't get 
you nice things after we went into debt during your illness. And I knew this 
promotion was coming up eventually, and I thought I'd replace the money in 
the account then. But now-" 

It crucified Joan to see him so whipped down. "We have each other, Harry," 
she said stoutly. "Tom Carter can take his old job and stuff it." 

He shook his head wearily. "He could keep me from getting a job anywhere in 
the profession. And knowing him, that's just what he'd do." He hesitated for 
a moment. "I might as well tell you all of it." 

"All of it?" Joan said in alarm. 

"Yes. I was lying to you when I said there'd been no other woman that caused 
me to neglect you, although it's not like it sounds. The job I had before 
the promotion-well, part of it is keeping the middle-aged women with large 
accounts satisfied so they stay with the firm." 

"You mean you had to-" 

"I mean I've fucked some of the most mildewed cunts and flabby asses in the 
history of the world," Harry said savagely. "It goes with the job. It's a 
joke around the office. Someone else has it now that I have the promotion. 

That's why I was able to come home to you tonight wanting a piece of your 
sweet ass and finally able to do something about it." 

Joan folded him in her arms and squeezed him against her breasts. "Oh, you 
poor man," she said softly. "And just when you were finally enjoying 
yourself I had to ruin it for you." 

Harry didn't appear to be listening. "Did Tom say anything else? Did he 
threaten you, Joan?" 

"He said I'd-I'd have to make myself available whenever he wanted," Joan 
said reluctantly. She felt as though she were grinding a high heel into 
Harry's open wound. "And he said-" She stopped. 

"Go on," he said hoarsely. 

"He said if he t-took the notion to have me come downtown and put my ass on 
his desk for a f-fucking, I'd h-have to do it." Joan half-rose on her knees 
as Harry laid speechless with his eyes looking sunken in his head. "We still 
have each other, Harry," she said earnestly. "We'll find a way. There's got 
to be a way out of the situation. But let's not torment ourselves trying to 
think of it right now. Let's just enjoy having ourselves together again like 
we used to do. Please, Harry?" She lowered her face and placed her lips 
against his ear. "Please finish fucking me, Harry?" 

He stared helplessly at his shrunken prick. "I know," Joan said eagerly. 
"I'll love it back to life for you." 

She half-turned and bent down over his groin. She took his limp cock in her 
hand and introduced it into her mouth and began to suck on it busily. Her 
tongue twirled and swirled around its circumference while her lips pulled at 
its breadth. She was half-facing away from Harry with three-quarters of her 
crouched-down, capaciously wide-spanned bare buttocks turned toward him. His 
hand came down upon her nude behind, quivering slightly from the expenditure 
of effort she was employing in resuscitating his prick, and stroked her 
naked backside gently. 

Joan sucked and tongued at the prick she loved so well until it showed a new 
lease on life. Slowly it began to expand in her warm mouth, and she 
redoubled her efforts. Harry's rising cock began to crowd her mouth, and she 
had to back off slightly. She rocked her head back and forth on the 
saliva-slippery shaft until the penis was rock-hard and throbbing. She 
released it from her mouth and sat back on her haunches, trapping Harry's 
stroking hand between her bare seat and the backs of her legs. 

"There!" she said with satisfaction, regarding her handiwork. "Please put it 
in me and finish our fuck, Harry. Let's make it the best one we ever had." 

Swiftly he arranged her beneath him again. Joan parted her legs and accepted 
his weight. Once more her hand sought out the straining prick and introduced 
the tip of its rigidity into her well-greased chute. It was with a warm 
feeling of peace that she reached up and clasped Harry's body to her with 
her warm arms. The trouble was all out in the open now, and they'd find a 
way to handle it. And most blissful feeling of all, none of it affected them 
personally. 

Almost languidly Harry thrust in and out of Joan's sheath, his unhurrying 
erection stroking her steadily as her interior walls nipped lightly at his 
staff. For long moments there was silence in the room as the man's body rose 
and fell upon the woman whose uplifted legs cushioned him warmly. The stiff 
prick pistoned in and out of the fleece-lined cunt, and their mingled 
breathing was unstrained. 

Joan's pace quickened first. A burping ember ignited in her interior, 
followed by a teasing, tickling sensation just inside her pussy-lips which 
were being frictioned by the busy prick. Her glistening white hind cheeks 
rose from the couch surface as she pumped herself upward to meet each 
downward thrust of Harry's steady-plunging cock. 

And then her reaction affected him. He drove harder at her as her heated 
belly lunged upward at him and his own slapped hers noisily as he buried his 
prick to the hilt in Joan's juice-filled twat on each downstroke. The tip of 
his prick seemed to swell until he thought it would burst. His balls hurt 
from their unexpended load of sperm. He whacked his straining meat into 
Joan's cozy pleasure-hole with furious abandon while she clutched him ever 
more tightly to her. 

Then his prick burst its bounds and he flooded her with wild, uncontrolled 
spurts. The hot liquid burned upward into the fleshy receptacle, and Joan 
grunted indelicately as she contracted her cunt muscles tighter and tighter 
around the hard-plunging prick she felt erupting into her. Harry's hands 
groped for her soft buttocks and squeezed them until she almost yelled. 

She felt as though she'd been hit in the back as her own orgasm erupted. Her 
legs climbed until she felt herself teetering on the brink of nothingness. 
Breathlessly she summoned up her reserves, and waves of sensation crashed at 
her nerve-ends while her quivering bottom-cheeks shivered and shook from the 
sensation-laden come that wrung her out. She collapsed limply with a 
repleted sigh. 

It was a good five minutes before they stirred themselves. Joan rose from 
the couch first when the removal of Harry's weight from her stomach 
permitted it. "What the well-dressed girl will wear," Harry said lazily, 
pointing to Joan's bare behind. "Her man's fingerprints on her ass." 

Joan smiled, then clapped a hand to her lips. "The door wasn't locked!" she 
exclaimed. "What if someone had walked in?" 

"I'd have charged admission," Harry said solemnly. "You're a good fuck, 
honey. The best." 

"You're not so bad yourself," Joan retorted. "Welcome back, husband." 

Still naked, they wandered into the kitchen. Joan went to the fridge and 
poured two glasses of milk to accompany the snack she had set out 
previously. She put tea towels on the seats of the kitchen chairs, but 
otherwise they ate naked. There was no conversation but they smiled across 
the table at each other often. 

And afterward, still without a word being said, they went upstairs 
hand-in-hand and in their bedroom had a long, slow, lazy, delicious fuck 
with Joan on top displaying her broad-gauged, dazzlingly white nude 
posterior in the tilted bureau mirror Harry had dragged up beside the bed. 

After which they fell asleep in each other's arms. 

In the morning, of course, there were afterthoughts. 

"I don't know what we can do," Harry admitted in the kitchen as he prepared 
to leave for the office. "If Tom keeps quiet, it will have to be for a 
reason. And you're the reason." His hands clenched. "Honey, I just hate-" 

"Nonsense!" Joan said, kissing him quickly. "We'll think of something." 
Privately she wasn't nearly as sure as she made herself sound. 

"In a few months at the new salary I'll be able to make good the-the 
manipulation," Harry said hopefully. "Meantime-" 

"Meantime we'll carry on," Joan said. "After all, it's not as though Tom's 
an ogre. Maybe he got it out of his system." 

"He can be an ogre where a beautiful woman is concerned," Harry said 
soberly. 

"But he's your friend, Harry! We were both drinking the other time, the 
night of the party-" 

Harry smiled wearily. "The oldest saying in the world must be that a stiff 
prick knows no conscience. Or friendship. The oldest saying, and the 
truest." He returned Joan's kiss. "So long, honey. See you tonight." 

"Goodbye, darling," Joan replied. She walked with him to the front door. He 
patted a round buttock through Joan's negligee before he went down the front 
walk. She stood and watched him walk to the corner where his car pool picked 
him up. 

She simply couldn't bear to have anything happen to their marriage now. 

Joan opened her front door with her key, balancing her bag of groceries 
under her other arm, and started through the living room to the kitchen. She 
stopped, petrified. Tom Carter was sitting in a living room chair, grinning 
at her in a leering manner. 

"What-how-" Joan faltered. 

"Wondering how I got in?" he drawled. "I got to thinking a while back a 
house key might be useful, so I had a duplicate made from Harry's when he 
left his key ring on his desk one day. Foresight, thy name is Tom Carter." 
He was still eyeing her in frank inspection. The day was so mild Joan had 
run out to the store wearing just blouse and skirt, and she was extremely 
conscious of Tom Carter's gaze upon her large breasts under the filmy 
blouse. 

"You're looking fine, baby," he resumed when the silence had lengthened 
uncomfortably for Joan. "How's your ass-hole?" 

"F-fine," she replied, ashamedly aware of the incongruity of her polite 
answer to his obscene query. 

"Tougher than you thought, hmm?" Joan struggled to keep a blush from 
invading her face, but in vain. She knew that Tom especially enjoyed her 
embarrassed discomfiture at his lewd remarks. She didn't want to give him 
the satisfaction, but she couldn't help herself. "Ready for a stiff prick to 
be shoved up it again?" 

"N-no!" she said more loudly than she intended. She couldn't afford to 
provoke this man, both from the standpoint of his usual swift reaction to 
opposition and the fact that after Harry's admission of his guilt in regard 
to the manipulation of the office account, Tom Carter held them both 
securely in his power. 

But he seemed in a good humor today. "One of these days, baby," he said 
softly. "One of these days. The combination of your big ass and tight 
ass-hole really turns me on. But that's not what 

I really stopped in to see you about." 

"No?" Joan said cautiously. 

"No, but before I get to the point, I want to ask you something. How's it 
feel having ol' Harry on the ball around the house again?" 

Joan had still been holding her bag of groceries. She walked to the table 
and set it down while she tried to frame the words of her reply. The 
question had puzzled her for an instant until she recalled Harry's rueful 
remark that his previous stud service was a requirement for all young 
lawyers in the firm and both an open secret and a subject for jokes around 
the office. 

She wanted to make her answer low-keyed but effective, something that would 
appeal to this man's better nature, if he had one. "It feels wonderful," she 
said at last. And that much was certainly true; the past week had been 
almost like a second honeymoon in the Welby menage, only better, with Joan's 
wifely sexual expertise taking the place of the bride's amateurishness, 
however ardent. "He's a lovely, beautiful man, and I'm very much in love 
with him." She kept her voice steady and forced herself to look Tom Carter 
squarely in the eye. 

"That's great, baby," he said with apparent sincerity. His leering grin had 
changed to a smile that was almost companionable. "Tell me, is ol' Harry 
really good in bed? The question's not academic. I know someone who really 
wants to know." 

"He's very good in bed," Joan said, afraid not to answer the question but 
afraid, too, of the direction in which it was leading. 

"As good as me?" Tom demanded. 

"No," she said honestly. 

"Buttering me up, hmm?" 

"It's the truth." 

"I know it is," he said complacently. "It all comes back to the point that 
you females profess to love the solicitous, gentle man in bed whereas you 
actually prefer the bastard who wrings you out and makes you like it." 

Joan made no reply to the statement which she recognized had a perverse 
element of truth in it. Harry's tender bed manners of the past week had been 
delightful, but she had to admit they hadn't truly fired her as much as the 
single abandoned evening with Tom Carter had. 

"Did you tell Harry about us?" he asked. 

"No," she lied. "How could I?" 

"That's good," he said with satisfaction. "Time enough later to let him 
know. You won't need to let him know what we do here this afternoon, 
either." The leering grin was back on his handsome face. 

"T-Tom," Joan began unsteadily. 

"Never mind begging," he cut her off. "Take off your skirt." 

She stood irresolute for an instant. Nothing has changed, a corner of her 
mind noted. Why should you expect this man to act differently when you're 
still in his power? Slowly her hand went to the side-zipper on her skirt and 
pulled it down. She widened the skirt-panel the opened zipper disclosed and 
worked the skirt down over her capacious hips. When it slid down her legs 
and covered her ankles, she stepped out of it. She stood in front of Tom 
clad in blouse, short half-slip, and stockings. Her thighs felt cold 
although the room was Warm. 

"Very nice," he approved. "Get rid of the slip." 

Joan's stiff-feeling fingers plucked at the elasticized waistband of the 
half-slip, freed it from her middle, and pushed it downward. It joined her 
skirt on the floor. Beneath the slip Joan had on pale blue panties and, next 
to her skin, a pale blue garter belt supporting her stockings. 

"Down with the panties," Tom ordered. 

"Oh, please--! " 

"Down!" 

Helplessly Joan repeated her action with the slip, freeing the elasticized 
waistband from her stomach, skinning the snug-fitting panties down over her 
plump bottom, and guiding them down her thighs to the floor. She stood in 
three-quarter profile to Tom while doing so in order that he hadn't a direct 
view of either her golden-bearded pussy or the voluminous expanse of her 
pearly hind cheeks. 

But he was having none of that. "Come over here and give me a feel of that 
ass," he commanded. Shivering, she walked to his chair. "Turn around," he 
said, smiling at her below-the-waist nudity except for the ineffective 
garter belt and her stockings. 

When she complied, she felt his hand at once on her bare flesh, stroking it 
at first, then palpating each heavy buttock in turn on the palm of his hand, 
squeezing them, fondling them, and manipulating the fleshy spheres until 
Joan's legs began to tremble and her breath caught in her throat. 

Nor did Tom fail to notice. "You like that, hah? Regardless of who's doing 
it?" 

"I'm h-human," Joan said unsteadily as Tom's hand spread her nude posteriors 
and invaded her body's deep crevice. A fingertip traced her indentation from 
top to bottom of her back passage, and Joan's knees parted company as a slow 
thrill enveloped her warm flesh. She jerked them together angrily, tears in 
her eyes. What kind of a slut was she to respond like this to the 
manhandling of this grinning demon? 

"I'll say you're human," Tom agreed, still playing with her pliant, 
sensitive, marble-white butt-cheeks. "And I intend to show you just how 
human you are. Turn around so I can feel your cunt." 

Joan turned around, closing her eyes as the hand that had been teasing her 
naked bottom patted the sleekly round bowl of her bare belly before drifting 
downward. Fingers entwined themselves in the blonde curls of her pubic hair 
and tweaked it lightly, and her breathing quickened as the hand pushed its 
way between her unresistant thighs and took her itching sex on its palm. 

"Ohh!" Joan murmured involuntarily as the hand squeezed and palpated her 
entire pouting-lipped fissure, and was at once terribly ashamed. The hand 
went away but was replaced by a finger that diddled and twiddled in her 
sex-orifice, roaming within her moist cavern-walls. Then the finger 
departed, too, and Joan quivered with the ache of its loss. 

"Open your eyes," Tom said. When Joan did so, he was holding up the finger 
for her inspection, and she could see it glistening with her own sexual 
moisture. A hot flood of rosy color invaded her cheeks. Why fight it, she 
thought wildly? Why not relax and enjoy it since she couldn't help herself 
anyway? But she discarded the traitorous idea immediately. It wasn't decent, 
and it was disloyal to Harry. 

"Tasted any good pricks lately?" Tom asked her. His tone was mocking. His 
hand traced the outline of the bulge at the crotch of his trousers. "Kneel 
down here and unzip me." 

Saliva flowed freely in Joan's mouth as she stared at his thickly-bunched 
trouser-front. She should have hated the demand, and she was horrified that 
she didn't. Her manhandled pussy was a twitching massn of unfulfilled 
desire. She dropped to her knees and crawled in between Tom's parted thighs. 
She had to do it, she told herself, but she knew deep down in her heart that 
unlady-like though it was she was eager for another view of Tom's great 
prick. 

He was looking over her shoulder as she knelt in front of him, and 
instinctively Joan turned to look, too. She saw at once that he had chosen 
his living room chair with deliberate caution. Across the room an angled 
wall mirror faithfully portrayed the shameful sprawl of Joan's plumped-out 
buttocks, nude except for the thin strips of her garter belt as she crouched 
in front of his chair. Joan felt a thrill of shamed excitement at her own 
tremendous exposure. Tom would be able to watch in the mirror the tiniest 
indecent wriggling of her most intimate bared flesh as she unzipped him. 

"Never mind admiring yourself!" his jeering voice prodded her. "Get to 
work!" 

She turned her head and fumbled for his zipper, pulling it down all the way. 
She fumbled inside his trousers and then inside his shorts for the prick 
that had so humiliatingly penetrated her fastidious ass-hole. Her fingers 
closed upon Tom's massive erection and drew it out into the light. She 
stared at the familiar ruby head, half-hooded in its foreskin, blunt and 
powerful-looking, and the thick circumference of the long prick around which 
it seemed her fingers could barely meet. 

"Suck it!" Tom ordered harshly. 

Joan lowered her head, infinitely mortified by the knowledge that even 
without the demand it was what she wanted to do. She licked at the blunt 
head several times, transferring the male essence to her taste buds, then 
ovaled her mouth and moved it forward upon the fleshy rod. She slipped the 
huge head between her lips several times, making it slippery with her 
saliva, swirling her tongue around and around the rampant prong. 

Above her head Tom sighed deeply. "You really are a prick-freak, baby," he 
said huskily. He cleared his throat twice. "And it couldn't happen to a 
nicer girl." 

Joan barely heard him. She was enraptured by the wonderful big prick in her 
clinging mouth. Sparkling visions of its thick turgidity romping in her 
pussy-nest, growing damper by the moment at the very thought, floated in her 
brain. Her head moved more rapidly back and forth as she mouth-fucked the 
delicious monster tickling the back of her throat. 

"That's enough!" Tom said suddenly. 

He had to push her head away to free his prick from Joan's mouth. She sank 
back, looking up at him expectantly. Surely he was going to fuck her now? 
She could see his eyes upon the mirror in which her lower-body nudity was so 
blatantly displayed, but she no longer cared. She was experiencing a hot 
glow internally that made the flesh of her sex-platform feel surpassingly 
wet and yielding. 

"Let me tell you why I stopped in here today," Tom said brusquely. 

Joan felt only impatience at the remark. This was no time for conversation. 
Her cunt yearned achingly for the saliva-moistened big prick pointing 
ceiling-ward as it projected from Tom's unzipped trousers. 

"You and Harry are to come out to our place in Marin County Friday night for 
the weekend," he continued. 

Joan stared uncomprehendingly. She and Harry? What did this peculiar 
invitation-command performance, really-presage? 

"Alice has a few plans for Harry," Tom said casually. 

Realization hit her like a thunderbolt. Tom was proposing wife-swapping! 
Harry would never do it, she decided instantly. It-it just wouldn't be 
Harry. 

"Don't you say a word to him about that part of it," Tom cautioned her. 
"We'll let it be a surprise. And if you think he won't go for it once he's 
involved, you have another think coming." He doesn't know my Harry, Joan 
thought. "And I mean what I say about your not telling him," Tom went on. He 
leaned forward menacingly. "If I find out you have I'll take the skin off 
your bare butt in one-inch strips." 

Joan shrank away from the threat in the cruel-looking eyes. She could never 
learn to keep up with the mercurial changes in temperament of this man, she 
thought, but she sensed that Tom Carter needed very little provocation to 
unleash the sadistic tendencies very close to the surface under his 
civilized veneer. 

"Do you know what you're to do?" he demanded. 

"I'm to bring Harry to your Marin County place Friday night for the 
weekend," Joan said meekly. Part of her sexual glow had faded during the 
prolonged conversation, and her backward-projected bare behind was beginning 
to feel chilly. 

"Correct," Tom said briskly. "And don't miss or you'll be sorry. I don't 
care what you tell him. Have you been fucked on your kitchen table 
recently?" 

The apparent non sequitur took Joan by surprise. "Why, n-no," she stammered, 
crimsoning at the thought. 

"Ever?" 

"N-no." 

He pushed her back on her haunches and rose to his feet. "Then hustle your 
bare ass out there and we'll establish a first." 

Slowly Joan climbed to her feet. 

She wanted to protest, but she didn't dare. 

Sheepishly she led the way into the kitchen, embarrassedly aware of Tom's 
eyes upon the swaying movement of her untrammeled naked backside as she 
crossed the living room. 

 CHAPTER VI 

Joan couldn't quite understand her own feelings as she walked into the 
kitchen. It was much brighter than in the living room, and she was again 
conscious of the nudity of her lower body from the bottom edge of her blouse 
to the tops of her gartered stockings. 

She realized with a little sense of shock that when she had Tom's prick in 
her mouth she not only expected to be fucked but was eager for it. Now that 
her blood had cooled slightly her uneasy sense of right and wrong had again 
taken over. She felt that Tom Carter with his sadistic turn of mind had 
deliberately slowed things down so that her feeling of humiliation could be 
rekindled and enhanced. And to be screwed in broad daylight on her own 
kitchen table! What could be more mortifying than that? 

Tom was within two paces of her when she turned around after reaching the 
formica-topped table. He was grinning his crooked, leering grin, his 
erection still protruding from his unzipped pants. At sight of his massive 
rod pointing at her Joan licked her lips. If she was going to get that 
fleshy instrument thrust into her velvety cunt-lips, and if there was 
nothing she could do to prevent it-well, there really wasn't, was there? 

Tom was staring into her confused eyes. "Ready, baby?" he asked. He touched 
his prick. "Ready for this?" 

"N-no," she felt obliged to deny the rebuilding excitement mounting inside 
her. "N-not really." 

"You've cooled off," he said. "Let's fix that." He placed both hands on 
either side of her nude waist, lifted her from the floor, and sat her down 
on the edge of the kitchen table. 

Joan immediately squirmed furiously, trying to lift her bare bottom from the 
smooth surface. "Ohhhhh, God, that's c-cold!" she cried out. 

Tom laughed as he held her down on the table. "You'll warm it up with that 
built-in heater between your legs," he said. He stepped back from the table 
when she stopped struggling. "But we've got to get the heater heated first. 
Go ahead and play with yourself down there." 

Oh, no! Joan thought. He wants me to finger myself right in front of him! 
"It-it doesn't help much," she said hurriedly. "I mean-I mean I can seldom 
bring myself off. Even my roommate in college said I was-I was terrible at 
it." 

"Did you hear what I said?" Tom Carter's voice was harsh again. "Go ahead 
and play with yourself. Now!" 

The humiliation was too great. Weak tears spurted from Joan's eyes and ran 
silently down her pale cheeks, but her right hand moved down across her 
stomach toward the juncture of her thighs. 

"Pull your legs up!" Tom ordered. "Let's get a look at this show." 

Still sitting on the chilly formica-topped table edge, Joan raised her knees 
to her breasts. The movement revealed her entire sex-structure to him as her 
slightly-parted pussy-lips in their hairy golden nest were fully exposed. 
"Now masturbate yourself!" Tom demanded. 

Still crying, Joan's reaching fingers parted the fragile blonde hair around 
her twat-opening. Tom watched sneeringly as she inserted a finger inside her 
wet, pink slit and moved it tentatively in and out. The treacherous inner 
cunt-walls grabbed at the probing finger, and Joan's breath whistled between 
her half-parted lips. She moved the finger faster. A hungry, furry little 
animal was nipping busily at the finger-intruder digging into her 
sluice-box. 

Unconsciously Joan's head swayed from side to side and her blonde hair 
whipped back and forth on her shoulders. Down between her parted legs she 
removed the finger entirely each time before re-inserting it, and each 
emergence was signaled by a wet, slippery sound of slurping flesh. 

"Get at your clit!" Tom commanded. "Spread those lips and let's see you do 
it right." 

Joan introduced her left hand between her thighs. With two fingers of that 
hand she widened her hairy pussy-lips until the inner bright red flesh 
appeared, then with the middle finger of her right hand sought out the perky 
bud of her clitoris and massaged it. It stiffened at once, and Joan's thighs 
trembled. "Ooooooooh!" she whispered. 

She rubbed herself harder, and the pleasurable sensation increased, but not 
beyond a certain point. Frantically Joan deserted her clitoris and plunged 
two fingers inside her wet cunt. She pushed them in and out, in and out, but 
again the sensation stopped short of what she so desperately needed. She 
needed a man! She needed a prick! "Tommmm!" she moaned, eyes closed tightly. 
"Please, Tom! I'm-I'm not getting anywhere!" Her slippery fingers ground 
away inside her palpitating cunt. "Please! I'll say it, I'll say it! Fuck 
me, Tom! Fuck me!" 

There wasn't a sound in the room, and she opened her eyes, searching 
anxiously for the erect cock jutting out from his pants, the cock that she 
needed so badly. 

But the room was empty. 

Oh, God, no! she thought wildly. 

He's sneaked out and left me hanging! 

She groaned as she let her fingers slip from between her drenched 
thigh-juncture. She scrambled from the table and ran into the living room; 
hoping against hope he was still there. 

But he was gone. 

She hadn't heard him go, but he was gone. 

Frantically she flung herself face down upon the couch and rubbed her 
itching-burning twat furiously against the couch cover, trying to 
frictionize the come she hadn't been able to accomplish with her fingers. 

But it was no use. 

Her plump bare bottom decorated with the thin pale blue tapes of her garter 
belt wriggled and writhed on the couch as she tried in vain to force an 
orgasm. 

When she realized she had lost it altogether, Joan burst into a fresh flood 
of tears. That awful man had deliberately worked her up like this and then 
gone off and left her to realize the animal-like depths of her nature. 

She cried, and cried, and cried, as the plunging of her naked buttock-flesh 
died away to involuntary tremors. 

And finally she fell asleep upon the couch like an exhausted, ten-year-old 
schoolgirl. 

Harry found her there upon his return home from work. 

She wakened with a start to find his comforting arms around her. She 
whimpered and tried to snuggle closer to him. It was only when his hand 
stroked her bare thigh that total remembrance came to her, and she started 
to cry again. 

"I knew Tom was out of the office this afternoon, and I suspected he might 
come here," Harry said miserably. "Don't cry, darling. You couldn't help it 
if he forced you." 

"It was w-worse!" Joan sobbed. 

"Worse?" Harry said apprehensively. 

"H-he made me w-want him and th-then he went off and l-left me," Joan 
sniveled. "I should have h-hated every s-second of it, but I'm a dirty 
f-filthy b-beast!" 

"You're nothing of the kind!" Harry said warmly. He raised Joan's head and 
moved closer to her, resting her head on his thigh as she still sprawled on 
her stomach. "You're a sweet, loving girl," he continued. "You can't help it 
if that sonofabitch Tom Carter knows how to get you all stirred up. He could 
do it to a nun." He patted Joan's bare behind soothingly. 

For a moment the only sound in the living room was Joan's sniffles. She felt 
tremendously grateful for Harry's understanding; she had felt so starved for 
affection for so long a time that she almost welcomed this situation which 
found her tears soaking into her husband's pants leg while his palm 
continued to alternately stroke and pat her nude buttocks in an 
absent-minded manner. "It's all my fault," Harry went on. "I got you into 
this." 

"And he's not going to quit," Joan said hopelessly. "Do you know what he 
said today?" Quickly she told Harry about the weekend invitation they didn't 
dare refuse. "H-he's probably going to d-do it to me and m-make you 
w-watch!" Joan concluded. The tears which had subsided slightly started up 
afresh. 

"I'd better look for another job," Harry said gloomily. "Out of town. No, 
out of state. Somewhere he can't find us." 

"You've worked too h-hard to give up your job with the f-firm!" Joan said 
indignantly. 

"Well, we've got to do something," Harry said reasonably. "Damned if I 
intend to see you end up as his love-slave or sexual plaything." 

For the moment neither had any more to say. Joan's tears dried on her 
flushed face. She didn't know exactly when it was she realized that the 
comforting hand of her husband which had been lightly fondling her unclad 
backside developed an urgency which began to stir her. The hand massaged the 
whole surface of her lusty, beautifully bell-shaped hind parts with 
increasing intensity, pausing only when it encountered the garter tapes 
stretching from her waist to her stocking tops. 

Joan's lips parted slightly as the hand separated her full shining globes 
and traced the course of her deep buttock crease. Still on her belly, she 
widened her knees under her so that the hand, probing lower, could have 
easier access to the treasure tucked within the fold of her croup-plumpness. 
Even though expecting it, she gasped when the advancing hand touched her on 
the quick. 

"Joan," Harry said huskily, fingering her sex slit as she raised her stomach 
slightly to make it easier for him. 

"Yes?" she whispered. 

"Let's go upstairs." 

She rolled onto her side at once, then sat up. She was so infinitely 
grateful to have her husband back in this refreshingly agreeable sudden 
ardency that if he had suggested it she wouldn't have hesitated to walk out 
onto the sidewalk with him despite her semi-nudity. Harry put two fingers 
under her chin and tilted her face up, then kissed her hotly, his tongue 
searching out Joan's. She returned his kiss just as hotly, her stomach 
muscles fluttering as he transmitted his avid enthusiasm to her. 

Harry's hand groped for the front of her blouse and undid its tiny buttons. 
Joan slipped each shoulder and arm in turn from the blouse as Harry removed 
it. She half-turned the dazzling white expanse of her back away from him so 
he could reach the clasp of her bra. He unfastened it quickly and pulled the 
straps from her shoulders. Joan pushed them down her arms as the bra fell 
onto her stomach and her pink-nip-pled big breasts stood forth proudly. 

Harry lowered his head and nuzzled her bare bubbies with his lips. He licked 
each nipple, then sucked at it slowly. Goose bumps jumped up on Joan's 
flesh, and her stomach walls contracted pleasurably. Down between her thighs 
a dampness was making itself apparent as her rising excitement caused a 
seepage that bedewed her soft pussy-lips. 

Harry rose from the couch and took her hand. He led Joan to the stairway and 
started her up it ahead of him with a gentle spank upon her grandly 
voluminous creamy seat. Halfway up the stairs he stopped her with a hand on 
either side of her waist. Quickly he peeled her garter belt down over the 
smooth swell of her fulsome hips until it hung dangling by the garter tabs 
from her snug-fitting stockings, then pressed his face feverishly to Joan's 
warm buttock-flesh as he rained kisses all over her resilient hind cheeks. 
Joan's hands rose unconsciously and cupped her bare breasts, caressing the 
nipples, as Harry's mouth stirred her juices from the force with which he 
kissed every inch of her wide fanny. 

She finished the ascent of the stairs when he stopped. In the bedroom she 
unfastened her garter tabs and cast the belt aside while Harry undressed. 
When he was naked, she knelt down in front of him alongside their bed. With 
a sense of tranquility she hadn't experienced in months she reached between 
Harry's hirsute thighs and cupped his balls and his lazy erection on the 
palm of her right hand. "May I?" she asked softly. x 

Harry patted her blonde head fondly, then continued to stroke her smoothly 
shining hair. "You can do anything you like," he said soberly. "I have the 
feeling I've been stupidly starving you." 

"No, no," Joan said quickly. "I should have asked you before. How could you 
know if I didn't?" 

She crouched lower and bent her head. She licked delicately with just the 
tip of her pink tongue at the bristly little hairs on her husband's sturdy 
balls. His swelling prick was right under her nose as she turned her head 
sideways to get her face closer, and its strong male odor infiltrated her 
nostrils as its tangy aroma increased still more the warm-wetness in her 
jewel box. 

She leaned back on her haunches and smiled up at Harry's face above her, "I 
love the feel of the hair on your balls on my tongue," she confessed. "It 
tickles beautifully." She giggled suddenly. "When I was twelve I heard the 
older girls talking and I came home and asked at the dinner table what 
fuzzy-nuts' were. My mother frowned at me while everyone else ignored me, 
but I stupidly repeated the question. My father grew red in the face, and he 
jerked me right out of my chair angrily and spanked my bare bottom hard 
right there at the table in front of my sisters and my brother." She smiled 
again. "But now I have my own fuzzy-nuts to play with." 

She returned her mouth to Harry's groin, licking at the length of his 
still-rising erection and then taking its purplish head in her lips. She 
worried it for a moment, teasing it with lip pressure, before swallowing a 
good portion of it. She frictioned her lips and mouth back and forth over 
the fleshy rod while a warm glow enveloped her at the feel of its rigidity 
massaging the roof of her mouth and crowding the back of her throat. 

Harry's hand which had been resting upon Joan's bare shoulder tightened 
suddenly. "I want to fuck you, Joan," he said quietly. 

She released her mouth-prisoner at once. Harry raised her to her feet, 
kissed her lips with his own taste upon them while with his arms around her 
his hands palpated freely Joan's hefty rump cheeks the feel of which he 
never seemed to get enough, then walked her backward to the bed. Her thighs 
struck the edge and she collapsed slowly backward with the delicious weight 
of her husband's body upon her belly. 

Harry moved her into the center of the bed and spread her legs as he moved 
in between them. His sturdy prick punched at her swimming quim and slipped 
in of its own accord before she could even begin to assist it. He tucked his 
head in the juncture between Joan's neck and shoulder and began to fuck her 
steadily while her thighs rose and clasped him. 

She could hear the faint rustling noise made by the movement of his body 
between her stockinged legs. She knew instinctively this was no ordinary 
husband-wife fuck; their common problem had somehow welded them more tightly 
together, and Joan joyously accepted with increasingly abandoned, erotic 
workings of her up-thrusting, quivering hips the amorously animated 
prick-obeisance her husband was making to the wifely cunt he had unwittingly 
made so much trouble for. 

Joan locked her heels over his back and tried to widen her thighs still 
further to accept Harry's cock right down to its root. His composed, steady 
plunging in and out of her wet, clinging sheath was enrapturing her whole 
body. She was ablaze with sexual sensation, alive with passionate carnality, 
wanton in devoted licentiousness. She wanted desperately for it to be the 
best fuck Harry had ever had. Her own voluptuous thrilling response to the 
ardent prick so high-spiritedly ravaging her exultant cunt was secondary. 

She came suddenly in a starburst of sexual sparks that exploded in delicious 
splinter-like fragments deep within her writhing pussy. It had taken her 
completely by surprise. "Oh! Ohh! Ohhhhh!" she had only time to moan upon a 
rising note as the frenetic contractions of her buttock muscles powered a 
discharge that lavishly lubricated her husband's torridly-spearing cock. 

She settled down beneath him to concentrate upon making it a good one for 
him. She had never known him to go on for so long, and she marveled as quick 
contractions in her cock-filled, juicy cunt, awash with her own spend, 
announced that he was stimulating her all over again. Her hands patted his 
shoulders as she encouraged him in his effort, and she groped with one hand 
lower down to fondle and squeeze a hairy buttock. 

His pace upon her perspiring belly increased suddenly at the same time 
another deep-welling tingle began deep in her loins. "Oooooh, Harry!" Joan 
breathed fervently. "You're making-me come-again! Ohhh! Harry! HARRRRRRRY! 
Ohhhhh, God! It's good! It's so-good! Ahhhhhhh, I'm-coming, darling! I'm 
coming!" 

A Roman candle went off in Joan's convulsed cock-stuffed quim as she matched 
with wildly immodest, bawdy abandon the suddenly hectic ass-plunging 
movements of her husband. Harry cried out hoarsely as his quick-darting 
joystick sprayed his wife's blissful interior at the same time her inner 
juices inundated the prize between her legs. He pumped upon her more and 
more slowly as she clasped him tightly to her, and finally his languid body 
movement came to a stop. 

He rolled off Joan onto his back, and she immediately scrambled to her knees 
and flung herself across his thighs. She pressed her face against his groin 
and kissed every slippery inch of his shrinking erection; kissed it 
passionately. Then she raised herself and collapsed face down upon his 
quiescent body. 

"I love you, Harry!" she cried with fiery vehemence and undiminished ardor 
with her lips against his chest. "I love you! I love you! And I don't care 
what Tom Carter does, he can't take that away from us!" 

But despite the peaceful, restful sense of sex-satisfaction in the Welby 
bedroom at that instant, both Harry and Joan knew there was still the 
weekend ahead to be faced. 

"I'll get her down to the cabin as soon as they get here, and you bring him 
along with you when you feel it's time," Tom Carter said to his wife Alice 
as he paced the floor of the living room of the luxurious Carter home. He 
was impatiently awaiting the arrival of the Welbys. 

"Yes, dear," Alice Carter said calmly. She was wearing a pants-suit that she 
knew was flattering to her full-figured curves, and her raven black hair was 
teased to the last half-inch. She had spent more than the usual amount of 
time on her makeup. 

"I'm going to fuck her the second I get her inside the cabin," Tom 
continued, rubbing his hands together briskly, "so she'll know that's only 
the beginning of what I have in mind for her during the weekend. I'm going 
to find uses for that lovely bitch's body she's never dreamed possible." 

"And I can do what I like with Harry?" Alice inquired. 

"Any damn thing you please, after you let him get his eyeful," Tom declared. 
"It will turn into a log-roll eventually, of course." 

Alice felt a stir of pleased excitement. Tom didn't always permit her the 
freedom he granted himself, and with his presently afforded carte blanche 
she was looking forward to an unrestrained weekend of passionate sex during 
which she'd have no need to hold back because of restrictions placed upon 
her by her husband. Beneath her bra she could feel her nipples stiffening as 
salacious thoughts raced through her mind; how delicious it would be to have 
a hard young male body available to cater to her every whim! 

She interrupted Tom's pacing by going to him and kissing him warmly. "You're 
so nice to me, dear," she murmured with her lips against his cheek. 

He looked surprised, then patted her girdled rump. "You're a handy old sow 
to have around, Alice," he said affectionately, but his eyes were upon the 
window overlooking the driveway where the Welby car would first appear. 

"You're really excited, aren't you?" Alice ventured. 

He nodded. "If I did what I feel like doing, I'd walk out to meet them with 
my prick hanging out of my pants. But I want Harry to be surprised by that 
first glimpse of his darling wife's cunt filled by my prick." 

"You like her, don't you," Alice said quietly. 

"Not like her-" Tom paused to frame his reply. "She's a beautiful piece of 
female flesh to use, and just beginning to realize her own capacities. That 
girl has got heat she hasn't even used yet." 

Alice listened with a mounting sense of dread. Despite the fulfilling 
relationship in their marriage bed, she was always afraid Tom would be 
captivated by one of the younger women he steadily pursued. He had always 
returned to her more ardent than ever, but could it continue indefinitely? 
Was it to be the luscious-bodied Joan Welby who would take her Tom away from 
her? 

"There they are," Tom declared with satisfaction. "You know what to do. Come 
on." 

He led the way outside, waving cheerfully to the Welby car as it pulled into 
the crushed stone drive. Alice followed and watched as Harry and Joan Welby 
stepped from their car to accept Tom's fulsome greeting. Harry looked trim 
and neat in slacks and sport coat, not as burly as Tom, but attractively 
masculine. Joan was Rubenesque in a printed cotton dress. 

"Got something to show you right away," Tom was saying ebulliently to Joan, 
slipping an arm around her. "It's out in the cabin, down this way." He 
pointed to a narrow path winding through a wooded area and disappearing 
around a slight rise. 

"I'd like to see it, too," Harry Welby said casually. 

Alice Carter picked up her cue. "If you'll bring in your bags now," she said 
in her best gracious hostess manner, "I'll show you where to put them." 
Harry hesitated, looked at Joan while avoiding looking at Tom Carter, and 
then at the bags in the back seat of the car. "Then we can join them at the 
cabin to see Tom's masterpiece," Alice continued. "He's so handy with 
tools." 

She could see Harry Welby's reaction. It must be all right if this 
pleasantly smiling woman said they'd join Tom and Joan at once. He'd always 
liked Alice Carter. He thought her subdued, almost on the demure side, but 
agreeably sweet in her demeanor. "We'll join you in a minute, dear," he said 
to Joan. He removed the bags from the car and followed Alice into the 
many-roomed Carter menage. 

Joan was disconcerted as she was urged along the path to the cabin by Tom's 
hand on her arm. She and Harry had made a pact to stick closely together 
every possible moment of the weekend, and here they were separated in the 
first fifteen seconds. Of course Alice had promised she and Harry would 
rejoin them at once, Joan thought hopefully. 

"You don't see many made like this one," Tom was saying jauntily as they 
crested the rise and approached a rustic cabin. He opened the door and 
ushered Joan inside. "Although it seems to me now that I think about it you 
have seen one lately." 

Joan heard him without really listening to what he was saying. She was 
looking about the cabin in alarm. Small, it consisted of a single room 
unfurnished except for a large bed directly beneath a glaring light. 
Portholes of opaque-looking glass were set into the walls of the cabin. 

When Joan glanced apprehensively at Tom-the appearance of the place conveyed 
only one thing to her shrinking self-assurance-her worst fears were realized 
at once. Tom unzipped his trousers and took out his prick which dangled 
limply in its relaxed state. "Seen any made like this recently?" he asked. 

"Don't, Tom," Joan begged. "You heard your wife say she and Harry would join 
us right away." 

"Lock the door if you're bashful," he grinned at her. "Because I'm going to 
screw your handsome big ass and fat cunt right on that bed." 

She knew he was using the words to excite both himself and her. Her eyes 
flicked nervously away from the front of his trousers where the previously 
limp meaty cock was lengthening and stiffening. The worst of it was that he 
was exciting her. Even though this man had humiliated her beyond words, had 
forced his tremendous prick into her pain-wracked rectum, had compelled her 
to masturbate herself in front of him and then left her unfulfilled, still 
the brazen lust in the handsome face and the ruby-headed penis now standing 
forth from his middle aroused her beyond words. 

"Take your clothes off, Joan," Tom said. 

"Please," she whispered even though she knew a plea was hopeless. He enjoyed 
her helplessness. Her discomfited realization of the impact of his lewd 
words and behavior upon her would-be lady-like behavior merely increased his 
sensual gratification. 

"Need a little help?" he inquired impatiently. 

Slowly Joan went to the door and locked it. Tears of frustrated 
mortification stung her eyelids. How could she and Harry have been 
out-maneuvered so quickly and so completely? Her hands went unwillingly to 
the clasp at the back of the neck of her dress, and she unhooked it and drew 
down the zipper. The dress fell forward loosely on her upper body, and she 
slipped her arms from it, passed it down over her waist and thighs, and 
stepped out of it. Nervously she went to a nail protruding from one wall and 
hung the dress from it. 

Her bare arms and shoulders glistened whitely above her slip. Anxious not to 
prolong her involuntary striptease as Tom watched gloatingly, Joan stooped 
to take hold of the slip's lacy hem. She drew it upward over her body and 
off over her head, automatically fluffing her blonde hair into place again 
while she hung the slip with her dress. 

When she looked back at Tom, he was unbelting his trousers and slipping out 
of them. He unbuttoned his shirt and flung it to the floor. Undershirt and 
undershorts followed, and Joan swallowed convulsively as the immense fleshy 
length of his over-large penis jutted upward from his thigh-juncture and the 
head shone wetly. He grinned derisively at Joan's mingled shame and muted 
desire as she stared fascinatedly at his big organ. He intended to get this 
pulchritudinous damsel, a delicious blend of shyness and wantonness that set 
him afire with lust, so hot that she begged for it. 

Joan reached behind her and reluctantly unclasped her bra. Her large breasts 
popped out into the mild air of the cabin, and her nipples stiffened 
noticeably, shaming her additionally. She couldn't seem to hide anything 
from her tormentor whose satanic grin widened at this evidence of her 
girlishly high-strung excitability. Joan's big bubbies bobbed freely at her 
every movement, and a quick flood of high color rushed from her throat up 
into her pretty face. 

Since she had dressed casually for the drive out into the country, she wore 
no garter belt or stockings. Only her wispy white bikini panties shielded 
her from Tom Carter's lustful gaze. Hurry, one corner of her mind insisted. 
Get it over with before Alice and Harry come knocking upon the locked cabin 
door. She knew she had no secrets from this man, but still she felt ashamed. 
Face scarlet, she quickly drew her final skimpy covering down her sleek 
thighs and stood naked before him, the panties dangling limply from the 
tensed fingers of one hand. 

"Very nice," Tom Carter said throatily. He advanced toward Joan, and she 
took an instinctive backward step before realizing anew she had no retreat 
available. He crowded up against her, bare belly to bare belly, and her eyes 
closed at the hot feel of his flesh against hers. "Spread your legs," he 
demanded. When she did so, he pushed his rampant erection downward and 
thrust it forward until it rose of its own volition between her legs. Her 
increasingly moist-feeling pussy felt as though it was riding a smoldering, 
fleshy ridgepole, and Joan's breathing faltered. He reached behind her to 
take hold of her strappingly protracted nude hind cheeks and proceeded to 
push and pull her back and forth along his lengthy prick which rubbed 
tantalizingly against almost the full extent of her sensitized sex-slit. 
"Oooooh!" she squealed as white-hot sensation pierced her. 

"You like it, huh?" he grinned. 

Joan didn't reply. She was trying futilely to control her response to his 
cock-teasing of her body. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other 
as the heavy prick rubbed and rubbed at her pussy-lips. "Ohh!" Joan 
whispered as she felt an inner gush impregnate the golden-haired lips of her 
quivering pink cunt. 

Tom felt it on his prick. "You're the original wet-deck kid," he snickered. 
"How many times do you have to change your panties every day? I'll bet you 
can look at a movie idol type walking down the street and feel it rolling 
down your leg." 

It was so nearly true that Joan felt additionally demeaned. The quick 
trigger of her sexual arousal had presented an embarrassing problem for her 
all through her teens. Tom removed his prick from its upstanding position 
between her legs and led her to the bed. He sat down and pulled Joan onto 
his lap, tipping her backward and widening her thighs so that all of her 
coral-lipped vulva in its fleece-lined cloister was exposed moist-gapped to 
his gaze. 

And his finger. 

Joan shivered as a fingertip traced her sex-split from end to end, teasing 
and tickling as it brushed loose golden strands of her pubic hair aside. The 
finger several times approached right to the brink of her yearningly hot 
vaginal entrance, and then retreated. She bit her lip as she tried to 
restrain herself from thrusting her middle upward at the finger when it 
dallied at her love-spot. 

With a patience that drove her wild, Tom petted, dandled, grasped, palmed, 
and fingered her sex parts until her resolve shattered under the blazing 
conflagration ignited in her loins. "Don't tease!" she muttered hoarsely. 
"Please d-don't tease!" 

"What is it you want me to do?" he asked cruelly, reveling in his control 
over her. 

"Put it in!" she whispered, hiding her scarlet face in her two hands. "Put 
your finger inside!" 

Instead, he slid her from his lap onto the bed and stretched her out on her 
back with knees elevated and legs apart. 

 CHAPTER VII 

Harry Welby made two trips with Joan's three bags and his own suitcase into 
the Carter home. Upon the first one Alice Carter led him upstairs and 
pointed out the guest bedroom to him. He had never seen one exactly like it; 
the room appeared to be almost octagonal in shape, with paneled walls. He 
set the second set of bags down near the bed and hurried back out into the 
corridor, not waiting to unpack. 

"Why don't we join the others?" he suggested with a smile he tried make 
unconcerned. 

"Fine," Alice agreed, "if you'll give me just a moment to change. I find 
this suit too warm for this weather. Why don't you have a drink downstairs 
while you're waiting for me?" 

"Well, all right," Harry said reluctantly, unable to think of a reasonable 
excuse for not complying with his hostess's request. He descended the stairs 
and walked to the ornate bar in a corner of the thirty-foot living room 
where he poured himself a stiff brandy. If that bastard Carter was harassing 
Joan again ... perhaps they should make an excuse and leave right away, not 
even staying the night? A sudden illness, possibly. Harry tossed down the 
brandy in a gulp, shaking his head morosely. Tom Carter wasn't-likely to let 
him off the hook that easily. 

Upstairs, Alice Carter went into the master bedroom. She removed the 
pants-suit and hung it carefully in her closet. Then she took off her heavy 
net brassiere and unzipped her girdle, peeling its clinging closeness from 
her body. She stood in front of her boudoir mirror rubbing gently at the bra 
and girdle marks on her enticing soft white bountiful flesh. She turned and 
examined her wide-flaring nude hips in the glass, admiring the graceful 
elegance of their extravagantly roomy snow-white dimensions, and she smiled 
to herself. So many men were entranced by a truly luscious female bottom. 
She would soon learn if Harry Welby were among their number. He was really a 
handsome man. Alice's blood had stirred and her pulse quickened at his 
proximity to her on the stairs when he had brought in the bags. 

She went to her closet again and selected an above-the-knee cocktail dress 
with a deceptively low-cut bosom. Unhurriedly she returned to the bureau and 
from a drawer chose a see-through bra of fine black lace that set off her 
wide-breasted, charming embonpoint perfectly, plus a pair of black lace 
panties. Before she wriggled her bottom into the panties which fit her like 
a second skin, Alice stared appraisingly into the mirror for an instant at 
the apex of her smoothly rounded belly where the jet black curls of her 
pubic hair clustered thickly and in stark contrast to her gleaming flesh. 
She smiled again. 

Harry Welby paced the living room floor impatiently, glancing at his watch 
from time to time. Alice Carter had already taken ten minutes to change. 
Should he walk out to the cabin without her? It seemed impolite, but he was 
worried about Joan. Worried about Tom Carter, actually. Abruptly he made up 
his mind and started for the front door. He had told Joan he would try to 
manage as few moments of separation as possible. 

He paused when he heard Alice's step on the stairs. He looked upward in 
relief, then stared. In the pants-suit he had looked at her without really 
seeing her, but this sophisticated-looking, beautiful woman in low-cut 
cocktail dress with figure-fitting lines was nothing to be taken for 
granted. "Why, you're-that's a lovely dress," he stammered. 

"Thank you," Alice said demurely. She slipped her arm through his as he 
opened the door. Harry found himself listening distractedly to her small 
talk as they walked along the winding path with Alice's capacious breast 
brushing against him lightly. He could see into her deep cleavage merely by 
turning his head slightly, and he couldn't fail to note the light restraint 
afforded Alice's jiggling teat by the gossamer black lace of her bra through 
which he could see her delicate white flesh. He drew a quick breath. This 
was a damned handsome woman. 

Alice led the way directly to the cabin and put her hand on the doorknob. 
"Why, it's locked!" she exclaimed in a surprised tone. Harry's partly 
allayed suspicions immediately revived. He took hold of the doorknob and 
shook the door. There was no rattle or squeak, and he could see that the 
cabin was so solidly constructed that it must be almost soundproof. "Perhaps 
they went on deeper into the woods," Alice continued. "Although I believe we 
can take a quick look inside through one of the portholes." 

She led the way to one at the side of the" cabin. Harry was a step behind 
her. The portholes, apparently opaque from the inside but see-through from 
the outside, were a recent addition by Tom Carter. As Alice stooped to peer 
into the cabin, Harry heard very faintly a long, ululating moan that froze 
his blood and turned his face white, then angry red. He had heard Joan make 
that spund in the deepest throes of passion. 

"Oh!" Alice gave voice almost in a squeal. She turned at once to Harry, 
apparently flustered. "Let's-perhaps we should-should try to find them at 
the house. They might have circled-" 

Her voice died out as Harry shouldered her aside. Crouching, he looked into 
the cabin, and his breath caught in his throat. Joan, naked, was on a bed 
under a bright light with her legs in the air and most of her regally plump 
bare backside showing as with parted legs and closed eyes she continued to 
emit passionate sighs and groans while Tom Carter, between her thighs, 
busily licked, nibbled, and sucked Joan's cunt. 

Harry sensed rather than felt Alice's face at the window beside his own, and 
he whirled upon her angrily. "Give me your key to this-this passion-pit!" he 
snarled at her. 

"I don't have one," she said simply. She placed a hand on his arm. "It's a 
terrible thing to see, I know. But even if I had a key, I wouldn't dare use 
it." She contrived to sound wistful. "I'm-I'm afraid of my husband, you 
see." 

Harry struggled for both breath and words, both of which failed him. As 
though drawn inexorably, Alice again put her face to the porthole and peered 
inside. After an instant Harry joined her again and they watched together. 
His blood threatened to bubble in his veins he was so furious. Then he 
caught a glimpse of Joan's face, vivid in its totally abandoned sensuality, 
and he grew even more angry if that were possible. Damn it all, Joan was 
enjoying it! 

He groaned aloud as Tom Carter stopped frenching Harry's wife and moved 
upward on her round white belly. Harry stared unbelievingly as Joan's hand 
snaked down between their bodies and seized the big head of Carter's 
monstrous prick which she expertly introduced into her vagina. His lungs 
burned as Carter's great cock inched its way steadily into Joan's gaping 
channel. The bastard was fucking Harry's wife! And she was helping! She was 
luxuriating in it! 

"Isn't it dreadful!" Alice whispered from beside Harry. "It's terrible to 
look but I feel soso excited." Her large breast brushed against the back of 
Harry's hand, its bouncy, warm resilience sending a quick little shock 
through him. "Ohh!" Alice's breath hissed through her teeth. "Look at his 
big cock go in and out of her!" She moved still closer to Harry. "Oh, God, 
I'm getting so h-hot!" she exclaimed, never taking her eyes off the pair on 
the bed in the cabin. 

Harry stared incredulously as Tom Carter's huge rod pumped furiously into 
Joan's up-thrust pink-lipped pussy. What a fucking she was getting! And what 
a fuck she was giving him! He could hear her mewling little cries as the 
fleshy, rigid prong stabbed his wife's slavering cunt, and the picture 
before him was so obscenely passionate that he could feel his own penis 
hardening inside his shorts. 

"What a screwing!" Alice murmured from beside him, almost in dismay. Of all 
the times she had been a witness to Tom's fucking his women, she had never 
seen one matching every thrust of his big battering ram as the blonde girl 
inside was doing. She turned suddenly to Harry. "Ohhhh, I'm-I'm-I think I'm 
going to faint!" she said feverishly. "That prick gliding in and out of her 
slippery quim-isn't it just awful?" She seized Harry's hand and rubbed it 
against her breast, then forced it inside her low-cut dress and clasped his 
hand around her lace-caged bubby whose stiffened nipple burned his palm. 
"I-don't-know-what's-the-matter-with-me!" Alice panted. 

Without conscious thought Harry found his other hand up under Alice's skirt, 
playing with her pleasingly full thighs and then fingering the puckered 
wrinkle of her sex through her thin panties. Alice's hand came down and 
gripped the bulge at his trouser crotch. Her face swam into view hazily and 
her wet mouth, fused tightly upon Harry's. Their tongues locked and darted 
and twisted until Harry's penis began throbbing. 

"Let's go back to the house!" he gasped when his lips were free. If Tom 
Carter could fuck Harry's wife, then by God Harry could fuck Tom Carter's 
wife! From Alice's glazed-eyed reaction to his feeling her up he knew he was 
in if he could just find some place to put her on her back. 

Alice looked through the porthole again, and after an instant Harry followed 
suit. His lips tightened. Joan's beautifully rounded bottom which had been 
meeting every thrust of Carter's huge pole into her quiver now rested on the 
bed slackly. The felicitous expression of delightful well-being on her face 
told Harry that she had come while Carter continued to fuck her cunt in a 
tremendously frantic barrage of ass-plunging. 

Harry felt both hurt and angry. Had Joan ever had that satisfied look on her 
face when he fucked her? Her appearance of composure startled him. How could 
she sprawl there with her legs doubled back upon her breasts to afford 
Carter every quarter-inch of possible penetration with a look of almost 
primly prudish contentment upon her features while that riotous prick 
savaged her brimful delectable cunt? 

"He's coming!" Alice whispered tensely, eyes glued upon the pair on the bed. 
"He's coming!" 

Before she said it the second time, Joan's facial expression changed. It 
seemed to come alive, and her behind did, too. Harry watched with mounting 
jealousy as his wife wrapped her legs fiercely around Tom Carter's back and 
pumped and pumped with her ass as Carter shot load after load of hot gism 
into her burning cavern and she inundated his spurting prick with her own 
spend. 

The sonofabitch brought her off twice, Harry thought sourly. Did she ever do 
that with me? From the look of her she'd really had her ashes hauled. Would 
she ever think well of Harry's efforts in bed again? 

Alice Carter tugged at Harry's arm. He was surprised to find his hand still 
up under her dress twiddling her moist pantie-juncture. Her ample thighs 
clamped down upon his wrist holding his hand in place. "I've-got to have 
it!" she said in a strangled tone. "Got-to have it!" Her breath blew noisily 
from her lips. "I'm so hot-soooooo hot!" 

Harry was more than ready himself. "Let's go," he said brusquely. He pulled 
his hand free from her damp-pantied thighs, faced her about, and started for 
the house. Alice had to trot along beside him to keep up with his long 
strides. Her face was pink and her lips were compressed. He urged her 
through the door and up the stairs. He would have passed the guest room, but 
Alice walked into it. 

Harry wasted no time. He undressed her quickly, eyeing with approval the 
abundance of her soft flesh as it came into view. He kissed her bare breasts 
lightly and tongue-flirted with her purple-graped nipples while she 
shivered, then stroked and fondled her heavy hind cheeks when he had bared 
her bottom. Standing in front of her, he brought his hand upward between her 
thighs and curved a finger into her cunt-hole which he found to be already 
swimming in its own juices. He finger-frigged her for a moment while she 
widened her leg stance to permit him more access and her breathing sounded 
loudly in the guest room. 

He sat her down on the bed while he threw off his clothes. She went down on 
her back easily from his hand pressure upon her smooth shoulders, and he 
gazed curiously upon her pouting slit almost hidden in its mossy bush as her 
legs came up and parted widely. But he only looked for a moment. He 
didn't--want to look at that agreeably lusty cranberry-red cunt; he wanted 
to fuck it. 

He lowered himself upon the resiliently substantial platform of her 
deliriously portly belly and felt his erection poke at her groove. His prick 
ached from distention; seldom had he felt so large. The sight of the 
awe-inspiring, tremendous fuck visited upon his wife had excited him 
immeasurably. Now he would return the compliment upon his boss's wife. 

"Put it in!" he ordered. 

Alice took his rigidity in her hand and applied the purple head to her 
cranny-hole. Harry shoved once and lodged it, then drove forward in a series 
of lunges with an occasional pause to joggle his hips from side to side 
until he had sunk into his boss's wife's cunt till their body hairs entwined 
and Alice was making small, muted bubbling noises as Harry's prick distended 
her fiery prick-channel. 

Then he began to fuck her in earnest. 

Joan Welby pulled up her panties quickly and reached for her bra, averting 
her eyes from the tousled bed with the damp patch in its center marking the 
overflow that trickled from her pussy after its recent subjugation. Her legs 
felt weak and there was a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her 
panties clung stickily to her wet-lipped, soundly-fucked cunt, and she 
plucked them away with a feeling of distaste from her oozing fissure only to 
have the thin material once more plaster itself tightly to her flesh, 
outlining strongly the soft bump of her sex. 

She walked spraddle-legged to her dress hanging from the nail and slipped 
into it, avoiding the sardonic gaze of Tom Carter who, fully dressed, was 
watching her clothe herself. "When are you going to admit you love it?" he 
demanded. "Instead of trying to act so over modestly priggish with a prick 
in your cunt?" 

"Don't talk like that," Joan said. 

"I'll talk any damn way I please," he answered irritatedly. "Are you saying 
you can take a prick in your mouth, cunt, or ass-hole but you can't talk 
about it?" 

"Please," Joan said nervously. "Let's go back to the house. I don't want 
Harry to-to worry." 

"Worry?" Tom snorted. "He's probably got Alice upside-down, playing her 
kettledrum." 

"Not my husband," Joan said. She unlocked the cabin door. "Please come back 
with me so, so things will look normal." 

"Sure," Tom grinned. "I'm always for the proprieties." He followed Joan from 
the cabin and fell in step at her side. "Go ahead and tell me you didn't 
love having my prick in you," Tom challenged her. 

"You know I can't," Joan said in a low tone. "But do you h-have to keep 
th-throwing it up to me that I'm an animal?" Her voice trembled though she 
tried to keep it steady. 

"A lovely animal," he said promptly. "And your cute cunt is a savory, 
fragrant, palatable, cozy nook for my cock to wallow in." 

Joan blushed a bright scarlet as Tom opened the door for her. His use of 
words forbidden in polite conversation always roused her, and she tried to 
hide the fact as she glanced around the large living room. "Where is 
everyone?" she asked in an attempt to change the subject. 

"I rather thought we might find them upstairs," Tom said meaningfully. 

"You mean--? Oh, no," Joan said loyally. "Not Harry." 

"There's one way of finding out," Tom returned airily, and led the way 
upstairs. Joan followed, feeling unsure of herself. This weekend hadn't 
started out at all as she and Harry had planned it. Tom's bulk ahead of her 
blocked Joan's view as they reached the second floor hallway. Then he 
stepped aside, and Joan found herself looking through the open doorway into 
the octagonal-shaped guest room. 

She caught her breath. 

A naked couple were fucking on the bed! 

Joan's first instinct was to turn her back, to retreat hurriedly downstairs. 
Then she recognized the woman underneath the man whose smoothly pistoning 
prick was tobogganing steeply into a black-haired cunt below while the 
glistening half moons of a large, shapely bottom surged upward to assist in 
the fullest penetration of the cock-filled twat. It was Alice Carter being 
fucked by a man whose head was pillowed on her fabulous dark-nippled breasts 
while she crooned encouragement to the metronomic plunger siphoning her 
sex-juice so that Joan could see sparkling patches of wetness around the 
prick-distended, swollen-looking cunt! 

Joan's eyes were nearly starting from her head. 

It couldn't be! she thought desperately. 

If it was Alice Carter getting so beautifully fucked, then it must be- 

Joan refused to permit her mind to shape the thought as she watched the 
man's hairy balls slapping lightly against the woman's pearly-white big 
buttocks, the sound blending with the impact of the two bare bellies 
colliding forcefully on each downstroke. The grossly indecent scene from 
which she couldn't force her eyes was stirring a slow tickling desire in her 
own vaginal walls which Tom Carter's big prick had so recently ransacked. 

"Not bad," Tom said critically from behind Joan. "I didn't think your boy 
had that much zing in him, Joan." 

At the same instant Joan caught sight from a corner of her eye-somehow she 
just couldn't look away from the indelicate bawdy coupling on the bed!-of 
Harry's sport coat thrown carelessly on the floor, the coat Joan had so 
carefully selected for him. It was Harry-her Harry!-fucking Alice Carter on 
the bed in this strange-looking room! 

A wave of jealous bile seared the back of Joan's throat. With a strangled 
cry she darted toward the oblivious couple on the bed. With clenched fists 
she beat on Harry's bare back and shoulders frantically. 
"You-get-off-of-her!" Joan panted. "You're married-to me!" 

So immersed was her husband in his obscenely offensive performance that he 
didn't even notice her pummeling of him, but Alice slowed the movement of 
her incontinently heaving ass. Thrown off stride by the change in rhythm, 
Harry raised his head from its cushion on Alice's delightfully fleshy 
breasts, saw her looking over his shoulder, and half-turned himself. He 
stopped in mid-plunge upon Alice's genially receptive cunt as he became 
startledly aware of Joan's angry, red face staring down at him. 

Tom Carter moved to the bed and seized Joan's elbow with fingers of steel. 
"I'm sorry your wife doesn't have better manners than to interrupt a couple 
before climax," he apologized to Harry, "but you've only yourself to blame 
for not disciplining her better." 

Harry was speechless. He had lost half his erection; after all, it was his 
boss's wife in whose cunt he was immersed! But Alice's clinging sheath-walls 
nipped lightly at the tip of his prick, begging for more of the same. 

Joan tried to wrench free from Tom's iron grip. "You-let-me-go!" she cried 
out. With her free hand she tried to push Harry off Alice's belly. 

It was his turn to become angry. "What the hell were you doing just a few 
minutes ago while we were watching?" he demanded of his wife between deep 
breaths. 

"W-watching?" she stammered. "You say--? " 

"We saw you getting fucked and wallowing in it!" he snapped. 

"Ohh-h!" Joan faltered. "But-but I couldn't help it! You know that!" 

"I know what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander," Harry retorted. 

"Correct," Tom said smoothly. "And now I think it's time we taught your wife 
there are certain social occasions which don't bear interruption, Harry." 

Tom sat down on the side of the bed and pulled the surprised Joan over his 
lap. Before she realized fully what he was up to he had raised her dress, 
pulled her panties down to the backs of her knees, baring her desirable, 
full-fleshed bottom, and clamped her ankles between his own. 

"What d'you think-you're doing?" Joan blurted, struggling ineffectually to 
release herself from the clever tactical waist-and-ankle pinioning which 
rendered her immobile. 

"I'm going to teach your bare behind better manners," Tom said. There was a 
gleeful note in his voice as he stared down at Joan's squirming nude 
buttocks, the only part of her she could move. "But first-" 

He leaned forward slightly, fumbled along the underside of the bed, and 
pressed something. There was a slight whirring noise and the octagonal wall 
panels slid slowly aside into hidden slots, revealing angled-forward 
floor-to-ceiling mirrors previously concealed behind each panel which 
afforded a multi-dimensional view of the guest room. Joan, across Tom's 
knees, stared in horror straight ahead of her as the four mirrors on that 
side of the room reflected from the four behind her every detail of her 
plumped-out bare behind right down to a tiny blonde tuft of damp-looking 
body hair peeping from between her tightly-clenched thighs. The four mirrors 
reflected four views of her childishly-presented nudity to her mortified 
gaze. "You let me up!" she cried shrilly to her tormentor. 

On the bed Harry's attention had been attracted by movement over his head. 
Ceiling panels had moved aside to disclose a large double-swiveled mirror 
which reflected two views of his own hairy buttocks atop his boss's wife's 
belly while her pretty face stared serenely upward. Two of the side-view 
mirrors showed his prick immersed in her cunt! In the overhead mirror the 
underside of Alice's round white thighs in their doubled-back position and 
the lower slopes of her soft-looking buttocks could also be seen. 

"This is something I've been wanting to do for a long time," Tom Carter said 
with satisfaction. He spat coarsely on his palm, then rubbed the palm over 
Joan's shrinking, malleable bottom, working the saliva into her flesh and 
into his palm. He repeated the performance twice more. "Take a good look 
now," he invited Joan who was staring horror-stricken at the mirror-eye view 
of his saliva-moistening of the four bare behinds appearing before her. "I 
wouldn't want you to miss anything going on behind you." He raised his right 
hand and brought his palm down with a pistol-like report upon Joan's taut, 
naked rear. 

"Ohh!" she cried out as a hot flame gripped her spanked buttock. "Stop it! 
That-hurts!." 

"Correct," Tom repeated, and delivered a resounding spank to the other 
buttock which quivered, flattened, and rebounded with the imprint of Tom's 
palm appearing upon it. "Owww!" Joan wailed. 

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! 

"Owww! Ohhh! Stop-it! Owwww! Oooooh! Stop-itttttt!" Joan shrieked as the 
merciless hard palm blistered her saliva-dampened nether rotundities. The 
angle mirrors faithfully portrayed four bare behinds writhing frantically 
and pinkening rapidly as the crackling spanks upon bare flesh resounded 
throughout the guest room. Joan had never dreamed that a hard spanking could 
be so painful, despite girlish experience. 

On the bed Harry had raised himself slightly to see better. He felt an odd 
mixture of sympathy and satisfaction as he watched his wife's immolation. So 
she enjoyed getting fucked by his boss? Then let her enjoy this, too. 
Beneath him, Alice watched in the mirrors the familiar wild dance of Joan's 
naked rump as Tom's hard palm rebounded stingingly from it, and she felt a 
hot stirring in her own depths. Her cunt grabbed spasmodically at Harry's 
penis which had begun to swell again at the lewd sight of his wife's 
frenziedly plunging crimsoning hind end. Surprised, Harry looked down at the 
silent plea in Alice's eyes, and began to fuck in and out of her again in 
slow strokes while he continued to watch the spanking. 

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! 

"O h h h h h h h h!" Joan shrieked. "Owww! OWWW! pl-please! Owww! 
N-no-oooooooh!-more! Owww! My-bottom! My-ohhhhh!-b-bottom!" Through 
tear-filled eyes she could see in the mirrors the reddened behind squirming 
so furiously that occasional flashing glimpses of pink-lipped pussy encased 
in blonde curls was visible. Her flaming behind hurt so much she broke down 
completely and sobbed like a child while the relentless rain of spanks 
cascaded upon her blazing, tender flesh. 

"There!" Tom announced with satisfaction after another dozen harrowing 
spanks that convulsed Joan's suffering backside. He stopped spanking and 
watched both first hand and in the mirrors as Joan's luridly-inflamed, 
twitchingly red-fleshed gluteal region galloped madly all over his lap. 

When he turned his head, Tom saw that he had lost his audience. He grinned 
ironically as he saw Harry once more pumping in and out of Alice's wet cunt 
while she whimpered her satisfaction. Tom saw Alice's plump thighs raise up 
and grab at Harry's waist while his prick-movements upon her quickened and 
she gasped hoarsely. "Oh, ohh, ohhhhh, I'm-coming!" Alice vocalized in a 
rising threnody. Harry rose up on his knees and groaned heavily as his prick 
shot a huge load of sticky liquid up into Alice's gaping maw. "Ohhhhh!" 
Alice moaned as Harry collapsed upon her perspiring belly. 

Tom returned his attention to the spanked bare behind on his lap. Joan's 
wild gyrations had slowed to an uneasy rotating movement as the hot burn in 
her soft hind cheeks seemed to permeate her entire body. She was still 
crying helplessly but was unable to avoid seeing in the mirrors the 
multiplied version of her glowingly-rubicund spacious haunches. 

Harry rolled off Alice's belly, his diminished cock emerging with a sucking 
sound, and 

Alice looked at Tom for instructions. "Stay put," he instructed her. "We'll 
put this little darling to work for a while." He put his hands under Joan's 
stomach, quivering from her sobs, and lifted her bodily. Tom faced the bed 
and lowered Joan upon Alice's still-prostrate body but with Joan's head at 
Alice's middle and Joan's middle above Alice's face. "Spread your legs!" he 
ordered the well-spanked Joan who complied weakly, and Tom settled her knees 
on either side of Alice's head. Tom put a hand behind Joan's blonde head and 
pushed her face down into Alice's greasy twat. "Clean out your husband's 
leavings!" Tom rapped at Joan. 

Hesitantly, but forcefully reminded by the still-burning smart in her 
upraised crimson behind that obedience was the better part of attempted 
resistance, Joan inched her mouth down Alice's warm belly through her soft, 
thick, black, curly pubic-tresses to the oozing cunt-lips presented fully by 
Alice's doubled-up legs. Tentatively Joan licked at the friction-reddened 
sex-slit that was inundated with Alice and Harry's combined spend. She 
tongued the pouting outer lips steadily while her tears dripped upon Alice's 
exposed crotch. 

At the other end of the line Alice stared upward into the lower edge of 
Joan's deep cleft and the shadowy embrasure contained within it, a scant two 
inches above Alice's mouth. Writhing slowly at the delicious feel of Joan's 
quick tongue licking at her own satisfied cunt, Alice raised both hands and 
pressed downward upon Joan's bare behind, still warm to the touch from Tom's 
hard spanking, and maneuvered Joan's cunt onto Alice's mouth. Alice darted a 
questing tongue along the pink fissure she had so recently seen accepting 
her husband's big prick, tasting Joan's and Tom's combined spend. 

Harry sat on the bed and Tom stood beside it, both men watching curiously as 
the two women tongued each other. Ripples of movement agitated the soft 
female flesh of both Joan and Alice as Joan craned her neck downward and 
plunged her tongue inside Alice's cunt-hole, twirling it all around, while 
Alice replied in kind. Tiny shuddering tremors vibrated through Joan's 
elevated soft hind cheeks, pink now rather than scarlet. Harry, watching, 
let out a sigh, and looked down at his rising reerection. 

"Yes," Tom said softly. His own penis was bunched in his shorts as it 
swelled from the stimulation of watching Joan and Alice lavish wet, clinging 
tongue-caresses upon each other's quiveringly-palpitated moss-lined exposed 
cunts. Alice's hands petted and cuddled Joan's spanked posterior above 
Alice's head, her own large unblemished fundament sympathetically in tune 
from shiveringly well-remembered spankings delivered by Tom. 

Tom ripped off his clothes and stood naked by the bed with his jutting prick 
emergent from his lower belly in a slightly larger version of Harry's newly 
aroused fleshy expansion. "God, what a picture!" Harry said huskily as the 
fully endowed female bodies blended in fantastically easeful sexual harmony 
while the busy female tongues courted each other's swimming pussies. He 
looked at Tom. "Let's reverse them. I want to see Alice's ass on top." 

"Good idea," Tom said. They both moved closer and together lifted Joan from 
Alice's plump stomach. The two mouths parted from the hairy-lipped female 
slits in squishy-sounding synchronization amidst muffled murmurs of protest 
from both Joan and Alice. Harry and Tom placed Joan on her back, then picked 
up Alice and put her face down on Joan's stomach. The same tongues located 
the same hot cunts, and Alice's uplifted bare bottom, more plump even than 
Joan's spherically-brimful globes, waggled gently as Alice's neck muscles 
jerked from her vigorous tonguing of Joan's slippery hot-box. Tom's hand 
descended upon his wife's trembling hind cheeks in a series of reassuring 
pats, and sensing that it was her husband's approving palm on her bare seat, 
Alice redoubled her efforts. 

Harry glanced at Tom, all facets of employer-employee relationship 
forgotten. It was strictly man-to-man. "Ever wish you had two pricks so you 
could fuck two at once?" he said to Tom. 

"When you get a pair like this, it's really something," Tom agreed, watching 
Joan draw 

Alice's loins down more upon her mouth so she could penetrate Alice's 
love-incision more deeply. "Of course there's a way as good. Maybe better." 
Harry raised an i n q u i r i n g eyebrow while he played lightly with an 
exposed quadrant of Joan's upraised dusty-pink bottom-cheeks. "We'll give 
them another couple of minutes and then I'll show you," Tom continued. 

Both men fell silent again as the sweetly felicitous double-tonguing by Joan 
and Alice continued. Joan's tears had long since dried on her cheeks which 
were now enfolded warmly by Alice's inner thighs. It had almost become a 
contest. Both were determined to show their men that they were best at this 
arousing form of sexual stimulation, and each worked mightily at giving as 
good as she received. 

It was Tom who finally called a halt. 

"I'm going to squirt if I watch them kissing each other's cracks any 
longer," he said, indicating the throbbing tip of his big cock. "Help me 
lift Alice off Joan." 

Harry eagerly lent a hand. 

 CHAPTER VIII 

"Get down on your back," Tom said to Harry who at once complied. He didn't 
know what was coming next, but despite having come in Alice's delicious cunt 
so recently his prick was so hard again he was ready for anything Tom 
suggested. "Hold your prick straight up in the air," Tom told him. 

Again Harry obeyed, and Tom turned to Joan who had been watching while she 
unconsciously licked her lips clean of Alice's clinging juices. "Sit down on 
his cock," Tom said to Joan. 

She looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Sit!" 

"With it in your cunt." 

"Oh." Joan looked at Harry's rigidly upstanding erection. It certainly would 
go into her a long way if she sat down on it. The prospect excited her. She 
climbed to her feet on the bed, balancing unsteadily as it sagged with her 
movements, and straddled Harry while standing upright. Then she squatted 
until her mouth-washed pink cunt-lips were just above the rubbery tip of her 
husband's stiff erection. She lowered herself again until the bulbous head 
prodded her slot-opening; she reached beneath her with her hand and guided 
it exactly until the head disappeared between her thighs. She relaxed her 
legs and glided slowly down the upright pole that slid straight up into her 
clutching firebox. "Oooooooh!" her breathless sigh sounded in the bedroom as 
an itchy-tickling feeling invaded her pussy in the depths Harry's prick was 
probing. 

"You're doing fine," Tom encouraged her. He took first one and then the 
other of Joan's legs and pulled them behind her so she was resting on top of 
Harry but with his prong buried more deeply in her than she ever remembered. 

Tom moved closer to the coupled pair and stroked Joan's upturned buttocks. 
Then he inserted a finger into her cleft and felt her tight anus. Joan 
turned her head uneasily-she hoped he didn't intend to--? But obviously he 
did; she flinched as the hard fingertip forced a slow passage into the 
constricted ring of her bottomhole. "It hurts," she complained softly, her 
slender legs moving disquietedly. She gasped as the finger burst through the 
constriction and dipped inside her to the first knuckle. But she was quick 
to note that it didn't hurt nearly as much as it had the first time Tom had 
done it to her. 

And he was quick to note her comparatively calm acceptance. "Yours isn't a 
virgin ass-hole any more," he said to Joan while his finger squirmed busily 
inside her rectum. "And I'll bet the body-heat that developed from the 
whaling I gave your bare ass loosened you up inside, too." He addressed 
himself to Harry. "Jiggle her up and down a little bit. Get her hot." 

Harry put his hands on either side of Joan's nude waist, lifted her 
slightly, and then let her slide down his greased pole until his pubic hair 
once again merged with her blonde fleece. He repeated it half a dozen times, 
and Joan's breathing became labored as the stiff prick buried in her 
twitching quim flooded her nerve-ends with pleasurably carnal gratification. 

She felt Tom move in behind her and lower himself on her back, and she 
tensed again. He raised her upper body slightly until he could slip his 
hands under her breasts and hold her more tightly to him. Then he advanced 
his heavy prick between her hind cheeks whose instinctively clenched posture 
kept him away from his target. 

Tom looked around for Alice. She was resting on her side, her naked body 
relaxed, taking in the copulatory bound-together trio, her eyes gleaming. 
"Come over here and spread her ass cheeks for me so I can get at her 
buttonhole," Tom said to his wife. 

Alice immediately knelt beside the grouping, her voluptuously bouncing 
breasts brushing against Tom's arm with pleasing sensations for both. Joan 
felt Alice's warm hands on her buttocks, spreading the soft flesh, and she 
panicked. "Harry!" she pleaded. "H-he's going to put it into my ass!" 

But Harry was busy bridging himself under their combined weight, savoring 
new sensations along the entire length of his cock as Joan's cunt clasped it 
with intermittent little squeezing grabs of her agitated sheath-walls. He 
scarcely noticed any pressure from their combined weight. 

Tom watched until Alice's hands forcing Joan's buttocks apart disclosed the 
downy-gold hairline running down her deep crevice and the dark ring of her 
anus. Then he brought the head of his prick to bear on her tiny circlet and 
pressed forward. Joan whimpered, but she could go nowhere, impaled as she 
was upon her husband's upstanding prick and also held in place by Tom's 
cupped hands upon her breasts. 

Tom thrust firmly and squeezed the head of his prick inside Joan's ass-hole. 
"Ouch!" she said clearly, wriggling her bottom unavailingly. "You're-owww!" 
Her voice trailed off in a gasp of pain. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!" 

"It's going in," Alice observed, watching from close range. 

"You're damn right it's going in," Tom grunted. "like right now." He slammed 
his hips forward with a mighty shove. 

"Aieeeeeeeeeeee!" Joan shrieked as she felt herself rent by a piercing, 
lacerating excruciatory pain. "H-help me, Harry! Help m-me!" 

But Tom was in to the hilt and he remained motionless for a moment before 
extending himself along Joan's back where he kissed and nibbled at the nape 
of her neck while little shivers shot through her. The pain died out in her 
rectum to be replaced by an intolerably stuffed feeling. She felt she had 
the largest of all possible turds lodged in there and couldn't get it out. 

Tom began to move on her back, thrusting with his hips as he slid his prick 
in and out of Joan's tight-straining ass-hole for short distances which 
gradually lengthened. Joan's wide-gauged behind began to stir itself 
unconsciously in time to Tom's ass-fucking of her. The feeling of the two 
cocks inside her so close together with only a slender tissue of her soft 
flesh separating them was indescribable to Joan, but a warm glow began to 
build in her stomach. 

Tom had released her breasts and had his hands on her waist near Harry's. 
Both of them rocked her up and down on Harry's prick while Tom's bored into 
her with less pain and more gratification. She rose up and down herself and 
was pulled up and down until Harry's cock in her cunt had her ablaze. Tom's 
belly slapped her bottom-cheeks as he plowed in and out of her 
rubbery-feeling rectum. 

She turned her head to look at the side-wall mirrors, and felt a slow, 
blooming blush enveloping her features as she saw her softly rounded female 
body pinioned between the two hard male ones as one prick jogged in her cunt 
and the other in her anus. The spectacle was indecently exciting. 

And then she saw something else. 

Alice Carter, her duties concerning the spreading of Joan's white 
buttock-cheeks completed with Tom's penetration of Joan's ass-hole, had 
moved around behind her husband. Alice had both hands on Tom's hirsute 
bottom, spreading the cheeks, with her face pressed tightly to it and her 
pink tongue licking at his rectum while her own big behind bobbed up and 
down from the intensity of her efforts. 

Harry jerked up suddenly into Joan from below with a quick tattoo of 
prick-thrusts signaling his orgasm. "Ohh, hell, I wanted it-to last longer!" 
he groaned as he pumped jets of sperm into Joan's deep well which seemed to 
catch fire from the onslaught. Even without Harry's hands on her waist 
helping to raise and lower her on his slick prong, Joan pumped herself up 
and down as best she could to promote her own come which she sensed in the 
offing. 

She was thrown off stride by a sudden acceleration in Tom's bottom-fucking 
of her. Tom's hands went to the back of her neck and gripped her, almost 
chokingly, while his prick slashed into her fidgety effervescent anus with 
shocking force. Tom's hoarse shout presaged his own come as his tight target 
writhed furiously while his prick spewed into Joan's bowels in what seemed 
an endless succession of spurting geysers from the tip of his deeply-lodged 
cock. 

Tom's hands fell away from Joan's neck as he fell forward upon her slackly, 
breathing heavily. Joan worked both cunt and ass-hole feverishly against the 
slackening pricks inside her. For one instant she thought she'd lost it, for 
another tight-roped her way along the top of a picket fence, and then felt 
herself wrung out as she came and came and came while a succession of little 
yelping cries were wrenched from her straining throat. "Ohhhhhhhh!" she 
mourned when her quivering thighs stopped jerking. "I'm not s-sure 
which-prick m-made me come!" 

Tom pulled out of her anus with a sound like a popping champagne cork and a 
twinge of acute suffering. Joan gasped and tried to relax her tight 
sphincter which seemed to be holding the discomfort inside. Tom's rough exit 
left her feeling as though she had a small glowing coal inserted in the 
depths of her ass-crevice instead of a snugly-fitted anus. 

Harry's erection had shriveled to the point Joan was able to raise herself 
slightly and back away from it as it slurped out of her twat. 

She stretched out tiredly on the bed on her stomach and reached around 
behind herself to gingerly insert the tip of her little finger into her 
sperm-wet anus. It wasn't as tender as the first time but it still felt 
achingly afflicted. 

Alice Carter's chubby nudity crawled over Joan's prostrate figure and tried 
to pass between Harry and Tom on some errand of her own. Harry captured her 
and flattened her across his thighs, face down, immediately separating her 
wide-beamed globular hind cheeks while he probed with a finger at her 
revealed brown buttonhole as Tom had with Joan. Alice wriggled coyly. 

"Sure," Tom said when he saw what Harry was doing. "Let's have the girls 
suck us up and you can take a hack at that." He pivoted on the bed and sat 
with his feet on the floor. 

Harry joined him, glancing over his shoulder impatiently at Joan. "Come on," 
he said to his wife. 

Joan stirred herself reluctantly. Between her spanking and her ass-fucking 
she felt sore and weary, but she slid from the bed and walked around to the 
other side. Alice Carter was on her knees between Harry's open thighs with 
Harry's limp prick in her mouth. Joan perforce knelt down in front of Tom. 

She made herself lip his cock into her mouth, sucked it, and swirled her 
tongue around it. Slowly the quiescent organ began to grow in her mouth. 

The two men could see multiple images in the mirror-lined walls of the 
female bare be-hinds crouched in front of them, expansively roomy and 
wide-spanned. Joan's bottom had bleached out to a point where it lacked only 
a shade of matching Alice's pristine shining milkiness. Just the faintest 
blush remained in the flesh of her soft hind cheeks. 

Joan was relieved when Tom's prick suddenly enlarged to the point her mouth 
was crowded and she had to back off. She wasn't going to let her husband's 
boss's wife outdo her at anything, and from the corner of her eye she could 
see that Alice's hard-working mouth on Harry's previously soft little worm 
had brought it up to near-rigidity 

"Okay," Tom said to Harry. "I'll get underneath and you sandwich her. She's 
had the Mexican Army in her ass-hole so you shouldn't have any problem." 

He stretched out on his back with his renewed erection standing stiffly, and 
Alice rose from her knees without instruction. Joan remained kneeling. Alice 
sat down on Tom's prick with a placid expression on her pretty face, and the 
prick glided up into her to the hilt. Harry moved in behind her eagerly and 
drew her legs backward so he could get at her upturned buttocks. Joan 
watched curiously as Harry's thumbs parted Alice's silky globes and he bent 
his head and deposited a gob of saliva upon her brown-ringed tight-looking 
shrunken indentation which he worked into her nether orifice with a 
fingertip. 

Alice's strapping spherical moons jiggled uneasily from the movement 
activated by Harry's fingertip. Joan watched her husband move in closer 
behind Alice's bottom, his prick still glistening from Alice's hard-sucking 
revival of it. Harry placed the blunt head of his throbbing cock against 
Alice's shriveled-looking anus and shoved. The tip went in, but that was 
all. Harry waggled his hips and gained a half inch, then rested. 

When he was ready, he grabbed Alice by the teats as Tom had Joan and really 
rammed her. He went in so deeply and so easily that Joan thought he had lost 
his foothold, missed his target, and angled down between Alice's plump 
thighs. Harry was just as surprised as Joan. "Jesus!" he exclaimed. "like a 
knife through butter!" He looked down unbelievingly at his cock stoppering 
Alice's wrong-way-corrigan, and Joan could see the hilt of the prick shafted 
into Harry's boss's wife's flower-like anus. 

"Told you she was loose as a goose," Tom grunted, fucking upward into 
Alice's cunt from beneath her. "Bang it around in there and listen to your 
hooves rattle." 

Harry removed his hands from Alice's large breasts to her round belly which 
he clutched for support as he began to fuck her rear entrance. He met so 
little opposition that to Joan's eyes he looked exactly as if he were 
fucking another cunt. The two men swung their axes at the soft female flesh 
sandwiched between them, and their hard-working grunts intermingled with 
Alice's soft little cries of pleasure as she was speared fore and aft. 

Remembering Alice's contribution when it had been Joan who was the sandwich, 
Joan climbed up on the bed and approached Harry's rear. She got her face 
down against his funneling hips, getting her nose bumped in the process, and 
then grabbed his thighs after forcing her mouth into his aperture. She held 
on for dear life on the wild ride, tonguing everything she could reach. It 
wasn't her idea of a Marie Antoinette party, but she had vowed not to be 
outdone by her female competition. A mingled odor of sperm, sweat, and shit 
assailed her nostrils. 

She could tell when Harry started to come because his hips flailed about so 
furiously Joan had to let him go. She watched with mingled emotions as Harry 
flooded Alice's interior. What would it be like to have her own husband fuck 
Joan in the ass? Exciting? For one thing, Harry's prick was smaller than 
Tom's and shouldn't hurt as much. Joan was willing to bet that after this 
weekend Harry's inhibitions would be far fewer. 

"Agggggrrrrhhhhhhh!" Tom bellowed suddenly, lifting hairy buttocks up in the 
air as he plowed Alice's quim with short jabs. "Jesus-to-God-Almighty, 
I'm-shooting-my load!" Alice's handsome behind looked as though it was going 
in several directions at once as Harry's dying thrusts mingled with Tom's 
furious ones. When Tom subsided with a throaty growl, Harry pulled out of 
Alice's rear window, experiencing nowhere near the severe extraction problem 
that Tom had with Joan. 

"Alice didn't come," Joan remarked to the room at large. 

"I seldom do," Alice explained somewhat breathlessly. "like that, I mean. 
The second prick distracts me." Joan nodded. It had almost happened to her. 

Tom sat up in bed after removing Alice from his stomach. 

"Okay, folks," Tom announced. "Ten minutes to shower, five minutes to dress, 
half an hour for cocktails, three brandies after dinner, and then back 
upstairs for the Sexual Olympics." 

Joan found herself marveling at the seemingly inexhaustible 'lan of this 
man. "Which consists of what?" Harry asked dryly, in apparent agreement with 
Joan. 

"First contest, for a case of beer," Tom said. "Both wives with their 
husbands. Both men flaccid. For every minute it takes a wife to get her 
husband up, it's a minus point. Once up, for every minute the husband stays 
in the saddle it's a plus point. Every time a wife comes off, it's five 
bonus points. Last man in the saddle gets five bonus points, and highest 
point total wins. Anything goes except pretending to groove when you've 
shriveled. Got it?" 

"Got it," Harry said. To Joan he sounded grim. 

"Let's go, Alice," Tom said briskly, and strode from the room. He paused in 
the doorway. "Oh, thirty minutes after Event Number one ends, we have Event 
Number two. Same thing, except we change wives." His palm spatted on Alice's 
bare rump as she passed him in the doorway, and then they both disappeared. 

Joan looked at her husband. "Is this really happening?" 

"You have the ass and the ass-hole to prove it," Harry retorted. 

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Joan sniffed, "regardless of what 
happens to me." 

"D'you think I'm going to let that bastard put me down?" Harry rasped. 
"We're as good in bed as they are any day in the week." He circled Joan's 
arm with his waist and gave her a quick squeeze. "You didn't look as though 
you were getting killed when Tom was spanking you." 

"That's what you think!" Joan flared. "I'm not crazy about sitting down on 
that toilet seat right now." 

"Did you see Alice moving over to get a better look at your rump when Tom 
finished with it?" Harry inquired. "Her expression was something to see. 
Half-fearful, half-envious. I'll bet she gets it from Tom three times a week 
and twice on Sundays." 

"I don't envy her if she does," Joan sighed. 

"I get the feeling a little of that around the house might spruce you up at 
home," Harry said coolly. 

"Don't you ever dare, Harry Welby!" She hurried on before her husband could 
say anything more on that subject. "D'you realize we came out here to avoid 
all this if possible and here we are more deeply embroiled than ever?" 

"So we'll sweat it out for the weekend," Harry shrugged. 

"And after the weekend?" 

He pursed his lips. "I should be able to straighten out the Baxter account 
in a couple of months. Then we'll kiss the Carters off." He grinned at Joan. 
"And find another couple our age. I never realized it could be such a kick 
to mix it up. Alice's big boobs and ass really turned me on." 

"I noticed," Joan said dryly. 

"Well? You hated it when Tom was screwing you?" 

"Not exactly," Joan confessed. She felt it wise to change the subject again. 
"Isn't Alice really something, though? To look at her you'd think she was 
the most innocent, chaste, angelic housewife in the world." 

"She's very much in love with Tom," Harry pointed out. "It sticks out on her 
like the nipples on her teats." He bent his head and kissed Joan warmly on 
the lips. "C'mon, let's get that shower." 

"Do you realize it's only Friday and that maniac Tom may have us on Event 
Number 204 by Monday morning?" Joan asked. 

"We're younger than they are," Harry said. "And I'll guarantee you we're 
going to win that case of beer." He crossed the bedroom to the bath. 

Joan shook her blonde head wonderingly. Event Number one! 

Who'd ever heard of anything so foolish? 

She ran through it again in her mind. Get your husband up, get him in the 
saddle, help him to last. Despite herself a picture crept into her mind: 
Joan Welby on her back with upraised bare thighs melded over Harry's back 
while his nice cock fucked her steadily in long, slow strokes for minute 
after minute after delicious minutes. A teasing tremor stirred in Joan's 
depths and goose bumps mottled her forearms, breasts, and legs. 

She almost trotted into the bathroom to rejoin her husband. 

Two could shower more quickly than one. 

She found a shower cap for her hair, slid aside the glass door in the shower 
cubicle, and stepped under the steaming water. Harry's arms welcomed her, 
and Harry's hands soaped her glistening flesh. He was very, very gentle in 
the area of her bottom-hole. Joan stood passively and let him minister to 
her. 

"Harry?" she said above the sound of the rushing water. 

"Yes, honey?" 

"Is Alice better in bed than I am?" 

"Different, yes. Better, no. I found out today that something strange does 
something for a guy with his own little split-tail." His hand went between 
Joan's legs. "But when it comes to the crunch, there's only one cunt I want 
to wake up beside in the morning." 

Joan took the soap from his hand and soaped her husband from neck to heels. 
Her hands lingered longest in the area of his prick and hairy balls. She 
finally had to remove his hand from between her legs. "We'll be late for 
dinner," she warned. 

"Don't you realize this might be Event Number Seventy-nine in the Sexual 
Olympics, Making It Standing Up With The Shower Running?" Harry said. "I 
think we should get some practice." 

There was impressive evidence prodding Joan's round belly that he was 
serious. 

So with the steaming water cascading down upon them, Joan stood on tiptoe 
while she eagerly assisted her husband as he connected them with his fleshy 
linchpin. 

They might never make it to Monday morning, Joan thought to herself 
dreamily, but Friday evening was going to be difficult to improve upon. 

 CHAPTER IX 

Joan served the cup of tea and sat down in a chair opposite her guest, 
admiring the statuesque dignity and beauty of Cynthia Moore despite the 
uncomfortable awkwardness of their first meeting. 

"It's awfully nice of you to have me over, Mrs. Welby. Dick speaks so highly 
of your husband. That is, when we have a chance to talk at all. He's gone so 
much that I feel like an office widow." 

Cynthia was tall and had breasts out of proportion to her size. A perfect 
catch for a big tit fancier, Joan noted. Her long naturally curly blonde 
hair fell past her shoulders and reached down to the outstretching breasts. 
The bosom stood out over a flat newlywed stomach yet to be made pregnant. 
The belly flared out at the sensuous full hips to complete the hourglass 
effect of her figure, a shape Joan knew that men would fight over to fuck. 

"My Harry tells me that your husband has a very promising future in the 
organization," Joan told her. "He's starting from a very good spot. He has 
the job that Harry had until his promotion two months ago." 

Joan wanted to smile at the look of flattered pride on the innocent face of 
Cynthia Moore, whose husband was humping all the old broad clients of the 
firm in order to keep his job. Joan wondered how the virtuous young wife 
would look if she knew her precious hubby was sticking his thing inside aged 
old cunts who loved feeling clean young cock and who would double their 
business with the office to keep up a steady supply. 

Joan knew from experience, because Harry had been forced to play the gigolo 
until Tom finally approved the change. But, of course, there was a 
condition. Tom never gave anything unless it had a condition attached. 

Tom wanted the new man and his wife introduced into their swapping circle. 
Harry was working on Dick Moore while Joan had to do the sales job on 
Cynthia. 

"Yes, Dick studied and worked very hard. He wants so much to be a success." 

"That's where we wives can help. It's amazing how much we can do to help 
push ahead the careers of our men without them knowing it," Joan said. 

"What do you mean, Mrs. Welby?" 

"Please call me Joan, dear. I think you'll agree that half the battle is the 
right social contacts. For example, what if you and your husband had the 
chance to mingle socially with Tom and Alice Carter, the boss and his wife? 
Maybe even join us on a weekend at their country house." 

Cynthia leaned forward, interested in any way she might help shape and 
advance the position of her husband in the business world. 

"That would be perfect, Mrs. Welby ... X mean, Joan. Only how?" 

Joan reached out and patted the young woman's hands. 

"Just leave all the details to me," Joan said, a strange satisfied smile on 
her lips. 


THE END
