CR-2008  Puppy Love
[aka 'The Unsuspecting Guest']
(Ralph Baxter)


Chapter 1

The offices of the Martin Employment Agency were disgustingly similar to those of
every other employment agency Jean Clark had visited since Monday when she began
in earnest to look for a job. And not a particular job this time – she'd learned her bitter
lesson about job-hunting long ago. This time she had promised herself to take anything
offered her, anything from file clerk to dishwasher.
The anxious young blonde read down line after line of qualifying questions, and
reluctantly checked "none" for each of the areas of previous experience desired. And
why not – there was no reason to think that this agency would be any different from
the ten or twelve – she'd lost count – that had already turned her down. Oh, not in so
many words, of course. Agencies have a way of saying no without actually saying it. But
that "we'll call you or drop you a card if anything comes up" is more than adequate.
This agency had advertised for cocktail waitresses and, though she had never had any
experiences there either, it certainly did not seem too difficult, and Mr. Martin had told
her on the telephone when she answered the ad that sometimes they considered girls
without experience as trainees. At less salary, of course, but at this point, salary was the
least of Jean's worries.
The lovely nineteen year old knew she had to find work somewhere or start climbing
the walls. Bob had been gone now for over seven months, and for a bride of only three
weeks, that sort of absence was hard to swallow. But Uncle Sam has a habit of putting
his soldiers where he wants them most, and for a brand new draftee, there wasn't much
chance of getting any choice. Bob was in Japan – at least she had that much to be
thankful for. He could just as easily have been sent to some jungle outpost in Southeast
Asia and that would unquestionably have been more than she could have taken all at
once.
It wasn't really a matter of economics – more just a problem of trying to stay busy.
Without a job and with nothing to do all day, the weeks seemed like months, and
sometimes it seemed that Bob would never be coming back at all.
"Have you finished your application?" A short stubby, balding man stepped from the
inner office, closing the door behind him. She guessed he was the one she'd talked with
on the phone. In fact, he seemed to be the only person around.
"Yes... I've finished," replied Jean, "but I'm afraid it won't be much help... I just don't
have the right experience to get a job, it seems..."
He smiled benevolently. "Well, why don't you let me be the judge of that... you might
be qualified for something you never thought of." He motioned toward the door to the
inner office. "Why don't you step inside, honey, and we'll talk it over." Something was
odd about the faintest outline of a smirk on his face, but Jean was in no mood to be
choosy.
The inner office lacked the refinements someone had added to the reception area – at
least the outer office was paneled and well-supplied with fairly comfortable vinyl and
steel chairs. The private office showed evidence of not being painted since World War
Two – the pale green paint was peeling in layers, like dead flesh from a bad sunburn,
and there were broken sections of it here and there on the faded, sun-bleached carpet.
Bill Martin's desk was old and battered, but without a trace of soul, and a large
upholstered wooden swivel chair stood behind it, where Martin lowered his bulky,
fleshy frame. "Now, let's take a look at your qualifications," he said, glancing over the
penned notes on his brief application form.
"I called you earlier," Jean began. "You said something about a trainee cocktail waitress
position I might be qualified for... I don't have any experience... I guess you can see
that." He glanced up from the paper with that same vague smirk and looked the young
wife over, as if making some mental appraisal.
"Haven't you ever had a job before?" he asked.
Jean lowered her head, she'd been through this a dozen times already. "No... except for
a part-time job when I was in high school. I worked for a drug store back in Wisconsin,
but that was three years ago. I got married right after high school, and Bob – that's my
husband – Bob took care of all the money matters, so I didn't need to work."
Martin suddenly seemed interested. "Married, you say? And where is Bob now... why
do you suddenly need a job?"
"Oh, I don't have to go to work, I suppose," explained Jean, "but Bob's with the army
in Japan, and I just feel like I ought to be working or something. It gets so boring just
sitting around all the time... and the car's on the fritz, so I can't even get out much.
Maybe with a job, the time would pass faster."
"How about typing and shorthand?" asked Mr. Martin. "Did you take any commercial
courses in high school?"
Jean looked puzzled, "Commercial courses? You mean secretarial skills... that kind of
thing?"
He nodded.
"No, I'm afraid home economics was the only elective I took."
Martin made a couple of scribbled notations on her application card. "Can you type at
all? Even a little hunt-and-peck?"
Jean shook her head, "Sorry... that's my whole problem. I just don't have any skills."
Martin checked off a series of blocks on the back of the card and put it aside and
turned his gaze to Jean. The curvaceous blonde grew increasingly uncomfortable under
his intense stare, and she self-consciously tugged at the hem of her short skirt in a futile
attempt to conceal even a little of her bare thigh from his probing eyes.
"You know, there is one job you just might be able to get," he grinned. "It's at a little
bar in Seaside... you'd have to wear a costume, though... sort of like a go-go outfit."
Jean thought for a moment. "Gee, I don't know. Bob would kill me if he knew I was
parading around in some kind of a go-go outfit. How skimpy is it?"
Mr. Martin laughed, "It's decent, if that's what you mean. But just barely... it's about
the size of a bikini. Have you got the build for something like that?"
"I... I guess so," blushed Jean, lowering her eyes to her lap. "Bob says I've got a nice
figure. And I was a cheerleader in high school, if that means anything."
Bill Martin pulled a sheaf of papers from his desk and glanced over them. "Yes," he
said, "it appears that the position I mentioned is still open. However, they are very
specific about applicants being... that is, having the right figure for the job. It says here
I'm to be absolutely certain before I send anyone out." Jean looked straight at the floor,
afraid to look him in the eye. "Well, I told you the best I could do, Mr. Martin. I..."
"Telling me is not good enough," he interrupted, a sly sparkle in his eyes. "I'm afraid
you'll just have to show me. Stand up."
Jean's mouth dropped half-open. "Mr. Martin! I couldn't do that... I mean, what kind of
a girl do you think I am!"
"Don't worry, honey," he assured, "it's all part of my job. I have to look girls over all
the time. You might as well get used to it. The only kind of job you'll be able to get are
jobs where you show a little skin, you know what I mean? And employers just don't
hire their girls sight unseen. Now be a good kid, and stand up so I can get a better look
at you."
"Gosh, I don't know, Mr. Martin... but I suppose it'll be all right, since you do it all the
time." She stood up slowly and turned her profile to his eager eyes, her firm full breasts
swelling provocatively under her best silk blouse. With one hand, she brushed down
her skirt, smoothing out the faint wrinkles until it unbrokenly hugged the rich full
curves of her voluptuously contoured hips and buttocks, clinging tightly to her smooth
flesh. As his eyes coursed over her, she suddenly wished she had worn a longer skirt, or
maybe a suit-dress with a jacket top.
Bill Martin nodded approvingly, "It's okay from here, at least what I can see. But you're
going to have to do better than that. I can't send you out of here without being sure.
My professional reputation's at stake. Suppose you have a big scar on your back, or an
ugly birthmark on your thigh or something. I mean, those things show up when you're
wearing a bikini top and panties." He stood up, his hand posed pensively under his
chin. "Yeah, you'll just have to show me some more. I've got too much at stake to take
a chance."
Jean stepped back defensively. "And just what do you mean by that? I can't show you
anymore without taking my clothes off, and I'm certainly not going to do that!"
Martin's joviality suddenly vanished, "Now listen to me, Mrs. Clark, you're the one
who's looking for work, not me. I don't need a job – so either you follow instructions
and cut out all this modesty crap, or you can just go somewhere else and I'll give this
job to the next girl who walks through that door!" he shouted, flaying one arm toward
the closed door to his outer office.
Jean suddenly felt very humiliated, and a hint of a tear began to form in the corner of
her eye, "I... I just can't do that, Mr. Martin, I'm not that kind of girl. I just can't... I
mean, I understand what you're saying, but I just can't undress like some common
tramp. I'm a married woman!"
"I understand, Jean... I understand, but you've got to accept my position, too. I can't
risk blowing this account. It's one of my regulars, and they always pay on time. I tell
you what..." He sat back down on his rickety chair. "I'll turn my back so you won't be
embarrassed, and you just strip down to your panties. It'll all be over before you know
it, and you can even keep your eyes closed so you won't blush, how's that?"
She could feel the color filling her cheeks at even the thought of what he was
suggesting. "I don't know... I just don't think I could do it."
But Martin was persistent. He didn't intend to miss out on this at any cost. If it took
him all day to persuade her to drop that skirt, he'd keep trying until he got a good look
at that luscious young body of hers. Despite the camouflage of the blouse and skirt, he
could tell she was really built.
"Okay, I'm turning my back," he said. "Now you go ahead and do as I told you. Let me
know when you're ready."
"Well, maybe..." Jean nervously fingered the buttons on her blouse, tossing his
ultimatum back and forth in her confused mind. That job may be the only chance I get,
she told herself, and I'd be an idiot to mess up my one and only chance...
Mindlessly, she undid the buttons one by one, until the thin blouse was open to her
narrow waist. The embarrassed blonde felt a little chill as the air brushed over her
smooth naked belly, and despite herself, she could feel her tiny nipples begin to harden
under the taut nylon of her brassiere. With both hands, she reached around and
unfastened the single catch on her blue double-knit skirt and tugged on the zipper until
it came down. She let the skirt fall to her feet, then lifted it up on one foot and placed it
on the chair beside her. The sheer gauge of her pantyhose allowed her white panties to
show through clearly, and she was suddenly stricken with the urge to grab up her
things and run. But the young bride was determined to see this thing through, no
matter how hard it was. "Okay, you can turn around now," she whispered, half-hoping
he wouldn't hear.
Bill Martin spun around quickly in his chair, and his eyes popped open wide with
disbelief as he gazed at the trembling, blushing blonde beauty standing before him. He
took in the delicious spectacle slowly, from head to toe – from the smooth unblemished
flow of her neck where it curved down to the jutting, ripely formed mounds of her
breasts, swelling proudly under the sheerness of her nylon brassiere – to the trim
inverted curve of her waist to her full hips swelling to curvaceous perfection and,
certainly not least, to her long shapely legs blossoming in firm fullness at her thighs,
then again in the supple gracefulness of her well-turned calves. "Wow! You're too
much!" was all he could manage.
Jean stared down at the carpet, her face flushed with color. "Please, Mr. Martin... don't
talk like that. I just want to get this over with... as quickly as possible!"
He didn't take his eyes off her for even an instant. "Sure, honey... It'll be all over before
you know it. But you've got to show 'em more than that. How about those pantyhose?
And that bra? I've got to know what kind of merchandise I'm sending out of here.
Now, I'll turn my back again and..."
"You needn't bother," interrupted Jean, suddenly impatient at his treating her like a
child. She reached behind with both hands and unclasped the three catches on her
brassiere. "I'll show you what you want." She blinked back stinging tears of
embarrassment and loosened the snaps, letting her brassiere slide down over her bare
arms. Her proud young breasts quivered vulnerably in the open air and she could feel
her tautly upthrust nipples harden instantly as Martin's riveting appraisal locked on
them. They stood up firmly, without the slightest sag, her rigid, pink-hued buds
thrusting boldly straight ahead like two tiny pink eyes returning his eager gaze.
Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes left the twin jutting bulges of her fully ripe red breasts,
following down along the smooth unblemished expanse of her flat belly, past the
puckered indentation of her navel...
"How about the pantyhose?" he asked, almost afraid to push his good luck any farther.
She complied unhesitatingly, catching the tight elastic waistband and peeling it down
over the gentle swell of her generously flaring hips. The top band of her panties caught
in the gossamer material, but she made no effort to separate the two garments. As one,
she pulled them down over her firm white thighs, down past her knees, exposing a
golden "vee" of velvety pubic hair. She pulled the hose away from her panties at last
and began to pull the taut white fabric back up to cover her defenseless nakedness.
"H-Hold it!" Martin stammered. "Just pull 'em both down. You might as well show me
everything you've got, honey!" The pudgy man was bent forward over his desk, his eyes
glazed with growing lust as he eyed the gorgeous, full-bodied blonde who was peeling
down to naked flesh right before his eyes. He couldn't believe his good fortune – a lot
of girls balked at his proposition and he just sent them along to their job interviews
anyway. But this one had a lot to learn. It was more than obvious she was new to the
job-hunting game – he would have known that even if the application hadn't said so.
"B-But you didn't say I had to take off everything, Mr. Martin," Jean protested, her
voice cracking in her abject humiliation. Her cheeks were two scarlet patches that
looked like someone had splashed them with two quick strokes from an artist's brush.
"Now don't argue with me, Jean," replied Martin, loosening his collar and tie as
perspiration rolled in beads down his stubby neck, "I know what's best for you, so just
do what I say."
"Well... okay, I guess," she answered, gripping her panties with her thumbs and sliding
them down with her pantyhose until she stepped free, leaving absolutely nothing to
shield her youthful nakedness from his eager, lecherously probing eyes.
She was the most deliciously perfect specimen of womanhood he'd seen in a long time
– not since that young surfer chick from San Diego he'd had the unforgettable pleasure
of balling right here on this battered, tom sofa. He grinned widely as he anticipated his
plans for this delectable young beauty. Her flesh was gorgeously tanned, save for the
milk-white softness of her inner thighs and the pink-capped mounds of her protruding,
ripely bulging breasts. He tried to imagine what that warm moist, inviting crevice
between her long legs would be like... he knew it would be tight and hot – it would just
have to be... and those gracefully long legs would wind so perfectly around his back as
he furrowed wide that sweet warm slit of hers until she begged for mercy. But he could
see she was no shopworn barmaid, not some broad he could just climb on like so many
of the others he regularly found jobs for. He knew this young filly was something
special, and he'd have to plan his moves ever so carefully...
"Yes, I think you'll do nicely," he said, forcing an air of strained seriousness to his
voice, though his breathing had grown so rapid he could scarcely speak without
gasping. "Now just turn around for me – slowly – so I can get a good look."
Jean obeyed, and with reddening face turned her naked, lushly rounded buttocks to his
greedy, probing gaze. Her firm high ass-cheeks were tightly clenched and they tucked
tantalizingly under at the tops of her smooth flaring thighs. Long and supple, her bare
legs stretched in tapering perfection to the trim swell of her calves. Even her bare feet
were tauntingly inviting-dainty little girl's feet with tiny, curled-under toes as she stood
before him, quivering with defenseless embarrassment.
"Ummmm... that's quite a nice little body you've got there, Jean. You should go a long
Way with a figure like that."
She turned back to face him, making no attempt to cover her luscious nakedness. "I'm
only interested in getting this job, Mr. Martin. Nothing else."
He laughed nervously, "Sure, sure. I understand... but there is just one more thing,
though."
"What now?" Jean implored, stopping in mid-reach as she started to pick up her
clothes. "I thought you said this was all."
"I did... I did," replied Martin, reaching into his right-hand desk drawer, "but I need a
couple of pictures for your new boss. I can do a better job of 'selling' him if I can show
him what a beautiful girl you are. Just lie down there on that couch and I'll take a
couple of quick professional shots with my Polaroid... and, don't worry, I'll give 'em
back to you and you can do whatever you want with them as soon as I show them to
Felix."
The naive young wife hesitated. "I don't know about any pictures. What proof do I
have that you'll give them back to me? I don't want any pictures of me like this just
floating around."
"You can trust me, honey. Now just lie down there and look sexy. You want the job,
don't you? Why, you could easily be knocking down two hundred a week in just a few
months. Isn't that worth it?"
She decided not to argue and sat down on the edge of the shoddy sofa, her knees
clamped together, her arms folded demurely across her ripely jutting breasts. She
squirmed uncomfortably as he fumbled with the dials on the camera, then inserted a
flashbulb. "No, no, not like that," he said, "You can give me a better pose than that.
How about stretching out? Kinda sexy like? You know, like in the girlie magazines."
Jean followed his instructions, and sprawled across the sofa, first brushing off the dust
before she allowed her naked flesh to touch the tattered upholstery. She leaned back
against the opposite arm, propping her head there, both hands at her sides. He
suggested she turn slightly on one side, and she obediently shifted her weight so she
faced the camera, her nerve-ends tingling as the camera lens aimed straight at her
lewdly unclothed form.
"Put one leg over the other... I want to see some of that nice inner thigh in the shot."
Jean obeyed, re-adjusting her long smooth legs, unaware that tiny strands of her soft
pubic hair were obscenely visible. Bill smiled his approval. "Yeah, honey... right there.
That's perfect. Now hold it!"
He snapped one shot, popped in another flashbulb and changed angles for a second
photograph. Jean was crimson with embarrassment, praying for this sickening
humiliation to end. But his second shot became three, then four and five.
"Please Mr. Martin. You have enough pictures. Can't we stop now?" pleaded Jean,
sitting up on the sofa, her long legs clamped together futilely. She started to fold her
arms across her bulging cream-white breasts again, but it felt foolish, so she let her
arms fall to her sides.
Martin placed the camera on his desk and came toward her, his eyes telegraphing his
intent as obviously as flashing billboards.
"Mr. Martin... Mr. M-Martin... p-please... don't look at me like that. You're frightening
me..." Martin laughed menacingly. "Frightening you!? Me? Come on, baby... you've got
nothing to be frightened of. Not from Bill Martin."
Jean squirmed against the cushions of the sofa, vainly trying to cringe away from this
awful, frightening animal leering at her like she was so much buyable merchandise.
She tried to swing her naked legs off the sofa as he sat down beside her, but he grabbed
her quickly by both ankles and shoved her back at his side.
"No... please, no! Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" she said, her voice loud, full of
fear.
"Go ahead and scream your fucking head off, bitch! It's after five now, and there's
nobody in the building except you and me," Martin sneered. His fingers were already
unfastening his belt, a move that immediately caught Jean's frightened eyes.
"What are you doing!? What are you doing!?" She grabbed the back of the sofa and
attempted to pull herself up onto the high arm, but he grabbed her legs and pulled her
easily back to his side.
"You're not going anywhere, honey," the older man smirked, his belt undone and his
pants half-open at the top of his zipper, "You wouldn't want to run off and leave me all
alone, now would you bitch? I've got a little somethin' here for you. Seein' as how your
old man's been gone for seven months, I thought you could use a little of this to tide
you over 'til he gets back."
"Don't talk like that, please... you're frightening me... please!" Jean begged, her eyes
clouded with tears.
Martin squeezed her calf firmly in his strong confining grip, holding her effectively, and
yanked his zipper all the way down with his free hand.
"Here you are, sweetheart," he said, "just what you need!" He reached inside his pants
like he was probing deep in a grocery bag, and pulled his thick, menacingly swollen
penis out in the open. It flopped lewdly over his zipper, the bloated tip slowly swelling
in size as it sniffed open air.
Jean shrieked with terror as the heavy-set man's penis was suddenly cast before her.
"Stop it, Mr. Martin! Stop it or I'll scream ..I'll scream, I mean it!"
Martin only grinned and grabbed both her trim ankles, pulling her naked body farther
down onto the sofa, her head now clear of the padded arm. She reached behind and
struggled to get a firm grip on the sofa arm, but Martin slapped her hands back to her
side. "Now you behave yourself, little lady, or you'll wish you had when I've finished
with you."
Jean shook with unbridled fear and revulsion as the balding, squat man rose to one
knee, dropping his pants and rumpled undershorts to mid-thigh. She could now see all
of his bulky thick cock and his huge, cum-burdened balls dangling like two leathery
bulbs beneath the short stubby knob of his penis.
Martin could see her sizing him up, making all sorts of appraisals of his manhood, and
it made him laugh to know what thoughts must be running through her mind right at
this moment. They all looked at him this way – at first. Maybe his little pumper wasn't
much to look at now, but he knew what surprises it had in store for this snooty little
bitch! She thinks she's too good for the likes of me, but, baby, what a surprise you've
got coming! I'm gonna pump you up like a basketball. You'll be begging for it before
I've finished with you. Bitch!
He couldn't help grinning as he looked over his find, taking in her youthful, lushly
ripened nakedness. She was like a juicy, fresh-picked peach – all naked and inviting,
lusciously perched on a pedestal, awaiting his touch, his mouth, his lips.
He lifted one knee awkwardly, almost losing his balance, and shoved it between Jean's
hip and the back of the sofa, edging her way from the cushion until he straddled her
securely, pinning her down flat on her back like a helpless insect.
The panic-stricken blonde squirmed to escape him as he rose on one knee and yanked
his pants down over his ankle, over his already bare foot, taking advantage of his
momentary clumsiness. But Martin was way ahead of her. He pinned her instantly with
one hand right in the middle of her smooth flat belly, tightly smashing her against the
sofa as he pulled his pants free of his other leg and tossed them on the floor beside him.
Her defenseless body's strength to resist now weakening, Jean pleaded helplessly for
him to leave her alone, her mind a whirling, half-dazed windmill of fear and
humiliation.
Ok, God, please... don't let this awful thing happen to me! Please... I'll never be able to
look Bob in the face again! Oh please, help me!
Help me! I couldn't live with the shame of this horrible nightmare!


Chapter 2

"Please, Mr. Martin, please! You can't... you just can't!" Jean cried, wriggling helplessly
as he held her naked body pinned tightly to the cushions, squatting victoriously over
her writhing young form. His immense hairy balls were brushing her flat smooth belly,
his thick knob of a cock beginning to swell and harden as it dangled from beneath the
roll of obscene fat that circled his shapeless abdomen.
"C'mon, honey, stop playing hard to get," leered Martin, gripping his stiffly hardening
cock in his right hand. "You and I both know you want it, so why don't we quit playing
games?"
"No! You've got it all wrong," cried the fearful young wife, her eyes wide with terror. "I
don't want to! I don't!"
Easing his bulky form forward, the older man slid his naked loins over the pinioned
blonde's trembling belly until his heavy balls dangled lewdly between her bulging,
quivering breasts. As he knelt on the sofa cushion, her pink crinkly nipples jutted
straight up at him, the soft curve of her ripely molded breasts resting against his thighs
where he straddled her, pinning her between his thick legs.
Pushing the full fleshy mounds of her heaving breasts tightly together with his thighs,
he squeezed the turgid rubbery length of his throbbing cock-hardness between her
warm resilient breasts. A barely audible sigh of pleasure escaped his lips as he felt the
yielding softness caress the sensitive length of his rapidly swelling shaft, urging his
slumbering member into rosy, blood-filled stiffness until the swollen bulbous tip poked
stiffly against her chest, hidden between the tremulous mounds of her full, lewdly
defiled breasts.
That's it, old boy... Just keep growing like that, harder and harder... thicker and
thicker... we'll show this young uppity bitch a thing or two!
Suddenly, his rigid penile spear sprang from its hiding place between her trembling
breast-mounds, shooting out like a quivering arrow from his flabby, hair-covered loins.
Still gripping it tightly in his right hand, he pulled back the sheath of flesh that covered
the blood-engorged throbbing head until it poked free with a moist plopping sound.
Squeezing the hard shaft of his urgently pulsing cock tightly, the bulbous tip swelled
with deep, blood-infused fullness, distending until it was twice its normal size, pulsating
with eagerness scant inches from Jean's fright-widened eyes.
Tears began to trickle from beneath her now closed lids as she struggled vainly to shut
out this degrading nightmare she found herself so helplessly trapped in. She hoped –
she prayed – for a miracle that this horrible moment might end as suddenly as it had
begun. But she knew it was hopeless. She was completely at the mercy of this drooling
madman and, whatever he wanted of her she would have to surrender. Her mind reeled
at the thought of ever facing Bob again. How could she ever look him in the eye after
this!?
"Oh, please, Mr. Martin! Please... just let me get dressed and go... We'll forget all about
the job. Just let me go. Please!"
Martin grinned with a leer that covered his whole flabby face. "You can go, sweetie.
And the job's yours."
Jean opened her eyes, nearly afraid to believe her own ears. "What did you say? Did
you mean it?"
Martin aimed his throbbing swollen shaft at her face like a weapon. "Sure, baby... just
as soon as you suck my dick. Suck it real good just one time, and the job's yours."
It took a full second for his words to register in her luridly confused brain but, when
they did, they slammed into her like a ton of falling steel. "No! No! You're out of your
mind! I won't do it! I won't!" she gasped, struggling with all her strength to free her
naked body from his vise-like grip. But his thick hairy thighs pinned her like glue to
the sofa so that she was powerless to escape him no matter how hard she tried.
Then she remembered something she'd learned from a high school football player she'd
once dated – hit him where he was most vulnerable. Gritting her teeth and summoning
all her meager courage, the desperate blonde slammed her tightened fist into his
scrotum with all her strength, smashing her small hand all the way into his groin.
"Aaaaggghhh!" he gasped, immediately clutching it his painfully throbbing testicles
with both hands, releasing for an instant his grip on her.
And that fleeting instant was all Jean needed. Like a serpent, she quickly slithered out
from under the awesome weight of the horrible naked man and flung her legs toward
the floor.
Snapping to her feet, she grabbed her clothes and bolted for the door, trailing
undergarments behind her in a mindless dash for safety. Nothing mattered except
putting as much distance between them as she possibly could.
Nearly stumbling as she raced across the worn carpet, she reached the closed door in
three bounding leaps and grasped the doorknob... Locked!!
"You stupid goddamn bitch!" roared Martin, still clutching his pained groin. "You're
locked in! What d'ya think about that? Maybe you're not as smart as you thought, huh?
You could have got out easy, but not now. I'm gonna fix you good for this!"
Staggering clumsily to his feet, the big man came toward her, his eyes squinting with
menacing viciousness. "You goddamn teasing little bitch! Come here!"
Too frightened to run, Jean cowered before him, awkwardly covering her sparse golden,
V-shaped mound and the pink points of her resilient young breasts. "Please... p-pplease... 
I'm sorry... I didn't mean it... please," she whimpered weakly, her lips trembling as 
she spoke.
"And you can cut out that shit, too," muttered Martin, grabbing her by the wrist, then
shoving her roughly back toward the sofa. "Get over there!" he bellowed.
Timidly, Jean sat on the edge of the sofa, her knees clamped in ludicrous modesty as
the stubby naked man advanced on her, her arms folded in a reverent cross over her
chest.
Grabbing her painfully by the shoulder Martin squeezed the tender flesh in his tight
grip and shoved the defenseless blonde to the floor, forcing her into a humiliating
kneeling position before him. Jean offered no resistance – she had learned her lesson
and she couldn't afford to enrage him any more than she already had.
Pulling her head roughly, toward his hairy loins, he smashed her face flat against his
again limp cock.
"Mmmmmmfff..." She could barely open her mouth to speak as he held her crushed
against him, her lips touching the smooth rubbery head of his twitching penis.
Her stomach tightened in sudden panic as she tasted the salty tanginess of his lewdly
flaccid cock crammed against her quivering lips – she'd never touched a man's penis
with her mouth, not even Bob's. It was something that had never come up in their
lovemaking. Maybe if they'd been together longer before he had to go overseas it might
have been different. The burning knot of fear in her stomach grew larger, threatening
to make her violently sick, but she fought it bravely, determined not to add to her
humiliation. Tears of abject degradation and helpless surrender streamed down her
flushed cheeks as she realized she was about to be forced to perform this lurid act with
a total stranger. With Bob, in their own lovemaking, it would not have seemed so
despicable. But with this awful filthy man it became an act of total debasement, beyond
anything she would ever have dreamed possible.
"You know what to do with it, baby," growled Martin, gripping her shoulder-length,
honey-blonde hair tightly between the fingers of both hands and twisting until her
mouth opened in searing pain. "Suck it cunt! Suck it! Suck it real good, and use that
sweet little tongue of yours to clean it nice and slick!"
With one last surge of hope, the defenseless young wife sought to beg for mercy, but
when her lips parted, his turgid cock was swiftly rammed between them with a sudden
snap of his pelvis, filling her vulnerable virginal mouth with its fleshy, blood-swollen
length. Her cheeks hollowed instinctively to accommodate its full size and immediately
it began to swell and harden even more in the moist warmth of her confining mouth.
"Lick it clean, bitch!" he ordered. "Lick it 'til it's nice and hard. And if you're real good,
you'll get an extra treat." She glanced up at him with soulful, pleading green eyes, but
the menacing smirk that streaked across his face told her there was no hope left.
Instinctively, she tried to keep her tongue from touching his obscenely impaling
member, but she found it impossible as the thick shaft continued to swell in the warm
clinging moistness of her mouth.
His fingers tightened once again in her thick hair. "Lick it, I told you! Lick it real nice!"
Timidly, Jean touched her virginal tongue to the insistently throbbing head of his fleshy
cock, afraid of what response it might bring. At the mere thought of his hot seething
semen emptying into her throat, she gagged in humiliation, then tried to keep those
thoughts out of her mind.
Filled with throbbingly hot blood, the swollen penile knob grew even larger as her
tongue reluctantly caressed the thick hardening length. And as it began to grow ever
longer, ever thicker, Jean was suddenly terribly frightened! This time her fright was very
physical, very real.
It's going to choke me... I know it will! This horrible thing will go right down my
throat and I won't be able to breathe!
Without a hint of warning, Martin suddenly pulled back with a quick jerk of his hips,
and Jean looked up at her cruel captor with wide-eyed wonder as his stiffly pulsating
shaft slipped from between her moist clasping lips.
"Surprised, bitch?" Martin sneered, holding his dilated cock in his left hand so that the
distended tip lewdly brushed her lips. "Well, don't be. I just decided I'll take a rain
check on my blow job. You've got a nice little pussy between those pretty legs of yours,
and I aim to have some of it. What d'ya say? You gonna do it my way or have I got to
get rough?"
Jean looked down at the floor, too humiliated to return his evil stare. "I... I can't fight
you anymore, Mr. Martin. I'll do whatever you say." The words were weak and hoarse,
and her voice cracked with fear as she surrendered completely to his lurid designs. Jean
knew her only way out was to give this terrible man what he wanted, then get away as
quickly as she could. She couldn't begin to think about anything beyond that – like
how she could ever hope to continue being Mrs. Bob Clark or even how she could
bring herself to tell her husband or anyone else about this horrible thing that was
happening to her.
"Get up here on the sofa... on your knees," he ordered, and Jean shamefully obeyed,
still unable to look her merciless tormentor in the eye. Shivering involuntarily, she
lowered her naked body to the sofa cushions until she was flat on her belly.
Martin looked over his choice prize appraisingly, taking in very slowly the incredible
ripe youthfulness of her naked body, the tantalizing magnetism this young delicacy
seemed to possess. Her twin firm buttocks were clenched tightly, like a velvet fist,
concealing the forbidden orifice of her puckered little anus, as her defensively clamped
thighs hid the juicy softness of her tender young pussy slit.
You can keep it all to yourself right now, baby, but not for long... I'm coming in there
whether you like it or not!
"Up on your knees!" he barked. "I want to see that little brown eye looking at me!"
Cringing at his horrible evil words, Jean obeyed, resigned finally to her wretched plight.
Oh God... why did I ever come to this awful place! Please, please let this all be a terrible
dream... Let me wake up and find this nightmare ended!
Gripping her firm young buttocks with both hands, Martin spread the deep crevice of
her trembling ass-cheeks with his thumbs, opening up to his unobstructed view the taut
muscular ring of her tiny cringing anus, then the warm, moist pink softness of her
vaginal cleft, her fleshy puckered lips spread ever so slightly in a tempting display of
lewd feminine appeal.
Jean's whole body tensed like a coiled spring in horrified anticipation of the bruising
pain she expected to slam into her at any moment. But she wasn't prepared for what
happened next!
Pain she would have been ready for – but not this!
Skillfully, Martin spread the soft pink flanges of her vulnerably proffered young pussy,
opening wide the warm moist lips and brushing aside the softly curling blonde hairs
that lined the sides of her damp crevice. When the narrow slit was spread wide enough
for his amusement, exposing the fluted coralline edges of her moist vaginal portal,
Martin lowered his head to her soft fragrant pussy-lips, catching the young girl
completely by surprise.
Her body cracked like a whip as his tongue made its first, electric-like contact with the
sensitive, nerve-filled flesh of her vulnerable vaginal lips.
"N-No... please," the startled blonde gasped, her lips trembling uncontrollably as
Martin's tongue probed her forbidden cuntal regions deftly, bringing shivers of wicked
delight that coursed unwanted over her obscenely kneeling nakedness in involuntary
spasms. She blushed crimson with embarrassment, humiliated that this total stranger,
this awful man, could bring such a lascivious response from her treacherously rebellious
body. And she was powerless to stop it!!!
Opening her moistly trembling cuntal furrow wide with his thumbs, Martin burrowed
his tongue and lips up into the warm slit, poking lewdly into its deep hidden crevices,
each worming probe bringing a new quiver of aroused helplessness to her nakedly
writhing form. Her breasts were smashed against the sofa, beneath her kneeling body,
and her lewdly exposed buttocks were shoved upward invitingly, unprotected and
vulnerable to his lustful expert plundering.
"Oh, please... this is so awful... please stop... please!" begged Jean, her face awash with
stinging tears. "I don't want to... please!"
Don't want to, my ass! She's just like all the rest, thought Martin In a couple of
minutes she'll be begging me for it!
He knew he was good with his tongue – enough women had told him so – and he
knew this snotty little bitch was no different from the others. His eyes squinted with
wanton anticipation as he thought of his aching distended cock pounding into this ripe
young bitch's pussy, filling her sex-starved, empty belly with his hot scalding sperm...
reaming her tight little vaginal hole like she'd never had it before!
Furrowing his nose into the moist juiciness of her lewdly craning pussy-hole, Martin
fastened his teeth ever so gently on her tiny sensitive clitoris. He knew he'd found it
when her whole naked buttocks suddenly quivered violently, sending a ripple of lewd
sinful pleasure shivering along Jean's spine.
Unbelievably, the humiliated blonde felt her tiny pink nipples suddenly grow hard,
poking painfully into the rough fabric of the sofa cushion beneath her breasts. Oh, my
God, what's happening to me... What kind of an animal is he making me? I'm no better
than this filthy beast! I can't help myself! I can't stop this awful burning that's raging
inside me!
Teasingly, the lustfully minded employment agent rolled the tiny bud of her throbbing
clitoris between his partially clenched teeth, feeling the little nub harden and swell as he
nibbled at it, licking it roughly with his tongue, causing the naked young wife to
squirm in a desperate attempt to escape the agonizing assault on her unbiddenly
seething loins. She tried vainly to clench her firm wriggling buttock-cheeks together,
hoping she could shut' off his salacious attack, but he held the fleshy half-moons tightly
in his grip and his fingers bit into her sensitive nakedness painfully when she tried to
pull away, leaving bright, criss-crossing red welts across her cream-white buttocks.
Jean's eyes were shut tight but still the tears streamed like rain down her cheeks. Oh,
Bob I need you so much! Oh, God, how I wish you were here, Bob! You'd get me out
of this! You'd know how to handle this evil man!
But as those very thoughts raced across her tortured mind, the alluringly positioned
young wife began to be shatteringly aware of a new sensation of lewd burning desire
ravaging her belly – a raging hot flame fanned with seven long months without a man
– a flame she'd tried so hard, so very very hard to suppress.
Oh, no, please God! Don't let this awful thing happen to me!
Chuckling to himself as his victim's lush naked hips began to slowly and involuntarily
grind in a quiet steady rhythm, making tiny concentric circles, Martin nibbled
voraciously on her stiffly throbbing clitoris.
"Oooohhhh... please... pleeeeasseee!" she moaned, her mouth half-open, her eyes still
tightly shut. The tears had ceased to stream down her reddened cheeks, but her head
was tossed back, her long, honey-blonde hair trailing over her naked shoulders and
onto her back. "Please stop! I can't stand it! I can't stand it!"
I'll bet this is the first time she's ever been eaten, Martin thought. Well, I'll have to do a
real good job!
Pleased with himself, he stepped up the pace of his hungry ravishment of her treasured
vaginal crevice, his tongue alternating between the pulsing nub of her wetly distended
clitoris and the sensitive fleshy flanges of her seething young pussy. He had a tight grip
on her, holding her firmly in place, and he could feel her naked body shivering
spasmodically as her hips writhed shamelessly against his tauntingly swirling tongue.
Jean's quivering upthrust buttocks ground harder and faster as she shoved her hips back
to meet his tongue's lewd delicious probing. Though she fought it with every particle of
resistance her reeling brain could muster, the susceptible blonde knew she was rapidly
losing control.
"Oh, damn... it feels so good! Oh, I can't take any more! Please!" she choked, rivulets of
perspiration running down her spine to drip in the widespread furrow of her wantonly
undulating buttocks.
Martin knew he had her right where he wanted her. She was his to do with as he
pleased – nothing could stop him now.
With one last electrifying nibble, he released his tormenting grip on her lust-swollen
clitoris and raised his head to look over his helplessly kneeling captive one more time.
Her whole body continued to quiver, her hips grinding in their same steady rhythm as
a low mournful gasp slipped from her throat.
"Oooohhh, please... don't stop..." she moaned unconsciously. "Don't stop now! I was
almost there!"
His face smeared with a leering grin, Martin brought his ominous blood-stiffened cockshaft 
up into position poised at the fleshy entrance to her hot moist cuntal passage, the
lust-filled head brushing the pink softness of her hair-lined vaginal flanges just slightly.
Jean's whirling mind suddenly snapped back to a fleeting jolt of frightening reality and
she realized only too well how close she was to consciously giving herself to this man.
"No! Not that... I won't let you! I won't!" she protested.
Heedless of her tortured pleas, Martin buried his lust-swollen hardness to its hairy base
in the moist clasping warmth of her cringing cuntal vault, ramming it up to the very
hilt with one powerfully surging snap of his hips. The softly yielding walls rippled aside
in waves of delicious ecstasy as his throbbing shaft of impatient cock-flesh filled her
tender young passage completely, spreading her obscenely skewered vaginal lips wide as
his eager cock rammed deep up into her belly.
"Ooowwww!!" she moaned, her tender cuntal depths on fire as her tormentor's huge
cudgel pierced her painfully on his ruthlessly impaling thickness.
"Oh, please... Please!"
Her cries were fuel for the fire in Martin's loins and he began to slam his turgidly
aroused cock up into her narrow constrictive passage again and again and again...
Christ, what a tight little pussy! I'd swear she was a cherry if she hadn't been married!
Oh, baby, you're too much... too much!
With both hands, he reached around her full thighs and grasped her firm young belly,
lifting her slightly for even better penetration. He heard her gasp for breath as his
pulsing hardness drove from behind ever deeper up into the innocent depths of her
fitfully quivering womb – he could tell he was in virgin territory and it made him feel
good to know her old man was less endowed, unable to find just the right spot in the
depths of her tight young cunt to drive her out of her mind. She was undeniably his
now, and he aimed to give her a fucking she'd never forget!
"Come on, baby, back up on it! Suck it up in there real nice!" he chided.
His words made the forbidden lascivious excitement seem even more intense, and the
beautiful young wife found herself grinding back harder and harder onto his thick
impaling shaft, rocking her full naked hips from side to side as his conquering cock
burrowed deeper and deeper up into her defenseless vagina. Every inward thrust
brought new ripples of wicked desire coursing through her obscenely ravaged body.
Her breasts were crushed nearly flat beneath her, but her smooth rounded buttocks still
waved high in the air, grinding upward to meet his cruelly plundering lunges with
wanton erotic movements of her own.
His swollen throbbing cock felt like a baseball bat shoved up inside her stretched tender
cuntal passage, but there was no longer any searing pain, just overwhelming waves of
undiluted animal passion that swept over her in a surging fiery tide.
Reaching under her writhing, sweat-soaked pelvis, Martin lifted her higher, slamming
his stiffened aching penis deeper, ever deeper in the forbidden sanctuary of her tight,
lust-moistened pussy-channel. His fleshy cock-spear slipped in and out of her hungrily
clasping vaginal sheath easily, coated profusely with her lubricating juices, the excess
seeping from her clutching cuntal lips to trickle down her smooth quaking thighs.
He rocked his hips back, pulling his stiff member from her greedy cunt until only the
bulbous tip remained between her tautly stretched pussy-lips. Like a voracious mouth,
her moist vaginal lips held the swelled knob of his eager cock tightly inside the warm
shelter of her wetly clasping passage, reluctantly allowing the glistening shaft of long
thick hardness to slide from their rapacious grip. There could be no doubt about it now
– she was his, and only seconds away from complete lascivious abandonment.
"Oh God... don't stop! Don't stop! That's it... Harder... Harder!... HARDER!! PLEASE
HARDER!"
Martin knew the end was close and with every ounce of strength left in his body he
pounded violently into her eager heated pussy, gritting his teeth and tightly clenching
the muscles of his buttocks in a desperate effort to hold back the seething flood that
filled his balls so painfully he thought they'd explode.
Just-one-more-deep-grinding-thrust. Just-one-more!
"Oh damn... I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Don't stop! Don't Stop! Aaaggghhh...
oooooohhhh..." she chanted unconsciously below him.
Slamming his hairy, sweat-drenched pelvis against her wildly grinding buttocks, Martin
buried his throbbing cock right up to the hilt in the wet juicy furrow of her greedily
clasping cunt. With a loud gasping cry of relief he felt his hot surging sperm course the
length of his painfully swollen cock to explode in a giant torrent of fiery sticky sperm
far up into her belly, filling her young, hungrily sucking cuntal hole for the first time in
seven long, agonizing months.
Jean felt the muscles spasm from her toes right up to her head as the surging throes of
her climax ran its devastating course. Her ravished vaginal passage hungrily gulped up
every precious drop of spewing, life-giving liquid as it pumped into her with spurt after
spurt after spurt of hot searing ecstasy.
Finally, releasing his grip on her thighs, Martin dropped the spent young wife back
onto the sofa and she fell forward, collapsing in a heaving gasping heap across the
tattered cushions.
Martin's rapidly deflating penis slipped from her taut, juice-soaked cunt with an
obscene sucking sound as she fell forward, leaving behind a trail of sticky white semen
that dangled for a moment from the end of his rubbery cock-head, hanging lifelessly
between his bulky, hair-covered thighs, before dripping onto the sofa in a tiny lewd
puddle.
He reached for his undershorts, and wiped his limp cock clean with them, blotting up
the lurid mixture of his own sperm and the depraved wife's love-juices from his
dangling leathery balls. Then he tossed the soiled undergarment aside.
"Baby, the job's yours if you want it," he said after a long pause. "I'll see to that."
Jean pulled herself up from the sofa, then began collecting her clothes from the floor
where they'd fallen, moving slowly and gingerly to ease the throbbing taunting pain
between her legs.
Oh God, what have I done! What has happened to me!? Have I turned into some sort
of tramp? Oh, how will I ever tell Bob about this? I'll die first! I'll die!


Chapter 3

Twenty-four hours did a lot to ease the agony of that long hour in Bill Martin's seedy
office, and Jean Clark was now far better equipped to deal with the memories rationally
than when she had come home alone, her face reddened and streaked with tears, the
afternoon before.
Jean sat up in bed, ashamed of having slept so late, but she excused herself this time –
there were plenty of reasons to let her off the hook just this once. Reluctantly, she
climbed out from under the sheets, pulling down her nightgown as she stepped
painfully to the floor, grimacing as a searing charge of pain shot from between her
bruised tender thighs.
The young blonde stepped gingerly to the bathroom and turned on the faucets to
prepare a nice long hot soak, and sat back to wait for the tub to fill. But the steaming
water was so inviting she decided not to wait, and hastily yanked the nightgown over
her head, pulled down her bikini panties and stepped into the still-shallow bath. She
splashed a little warm water on the cold ceramic tub so she could stretch out without
touching the chilling surface.
The deepening water seemed to engulf her like an ocean wave, rising higher and higher,
easing away her aches and soreness like gallons of liniment. In a few seconds she
caught herself falling asleep, sprawled luxuriously in the whirling water, really relaxed
for the first time since those horrible minutes in Martin's office.
Also for the first time, she was able to think clearly about what had happened and,
more important, what to do about it.
She'd thought about calling the police, about putting that disgusting animal behind bars
where he belonged, but it hadn't taken long to get that notion out of her mind. Just a
few brief thoughts about detectives, newspapers accounts, courtroom appearances, and
most of all, about how she could explain what she was doing in that man's office alone,
stripped down to her naked skin – that was all it took to convince the shamed wife
she'd have to forget about going to the authorities.
And for another few short moments, right after she'd come in from her nightmare at
Bill Martin's, she'd thought of calling Bob, of the sweet relief that a few minutes of
hearing her husband's voice, even from so far away, would offer. But she knew he'd
know something was wrong, that he would spot her anguish no matter how well she
tried to conceal it. And Jean knew he mustn't find out, not now at least, not when he
was helpless to come to her side. She couldn't allow him to suffer like that – this was
something she had to come to grips with alone, without anyone's help.
It wasn't easy, going it alone. All tier life she'd had someone else to rely on, someone to
lean on whenever problems stood in her way. But this time it was different. There was
no one there with a friendly shoulder to cry on.
Daddy had always been around when she lived at home back in Wisconsin and, with
three brothers, young Jean had always been his special favorite. She'd always gone to
him when Mother said no, and he'd never been able to turn her down. And even
though they had never been really well off, she'd managed to have all the dresses and
sweaters and new shoes she could use.
Thinking about Daddy like that always made her sad, and she tried to put those
remembrances out of her mind. That cold night in 1969 had ended all those warm
sunny days with her father – that dark night she'd spent with her mother and brothers
huddled around his hospital bed while he choked through his last few moments on
earth, one hand tightly gripped in his wife's, the other in Jean's.
Bob had come into her life only a few months later, right after she'd graduated from
high school. He had been working for the summer at the service station where her
family always took their business, and she'd taken a liking to him right from the start.
She remembered it like it was yesterday – the way he'd looked at her when she took
the family car in that sunny June day. He had seemed quite bold, she recalled, not like
the boys she'd dated in high school, and a whole lot better looking. So brazen was he,
in fact, he asked her for a date before she even knew his name.
And that was the beginning – a year later they were married, after Bob was forced by
Uncle Sam to drop out of Adams College. Now he was halfway around the world, but
he might as well have been in outer space since the only letters she got were weeks
apart sometimes. Bob had explained about that before he left. About how he hated to
put his feelings into words, how it nearly killed him to have to write a letter. Jean
understood about that, and the interminable waits between letters were getting a little
easier to swallow now that she had been alone so long.
She knew she could have gone back to Wisconsin and stayed with her mother while
Bob was overseas, or even with Bob's folks in Minneapolis. But she'd followed him
halfway across the country to Fort Ord, California before they were even married, and
going home again seemed the farthest thing from her mind now. Even being alone, the
Monterey Peninsula was a lot better than Oshkosh, Wisconsin.
Reluctantly, the lovely nineteen year old brushed aside all her fond memories, deciding
it was time to get out of the tub before she wrinkled like a prune.
She stepped dripping onto the cold tile floor and reached across her clean clothes for
the towel she'd forgotten to place by the tub, sloshing a trail of water over her clean
brassiere and panties.
Damn it! she muttered to herself. I'll have to go get some more or run around naked till
these dry.
Tossing a towel around her shoulders, she marched into the bedroom and rummaged
through the top drawer of her dresser, looking for a pair of panties that might have got
shoved to the back.
Behind the slips and pantyhose, way against the back of the drawer, she found a stack
of letters from Harold and Amy – Bob's brother and his wife – bound together with a
rubber band.
It had been quite a while since she'd written Harold and Amy. and Jean made a point
of putting the letters out where she'd remember them, then made a promise to write
them that very night. She'd never known them very well, but she knew' Bob was crazy
about Harold, who was fifteen years older than Bob and that was enough
recommendation for her.
Bob had often talked about going down to Gilpin, New Mexico where Harold operated
a combination winter ski resort and summer motel. Harold had said many times that
there was a standing invitation open to Bob to come to work for him. any time he was
ready. Jean found her panties, then had a second thought about her letter writing, and
sat down then and there to write Harold and Amy a long letter. After all, they were sort
of kin, and she knew Bob would never find the time to write them.
Surprisingly, the words came fast and easy, and it felt nice to have someone to tell her
troubles to, even if she couldn't tell them about what happened the day before, and
soon one page became two, then three, then four, as she emptied her mind of
everything that had been weighing on her so heavily over the last long weeks.
I hope they don't think I've lost my head, she thought, writing such a long, personal
letter, but I've got to tell my troubles to somebody, and they 're about the only ones
left.
The very act of writing that letter acted as a nirvana for Jean's troubled thoughts. As she
reread the letter before sealing and posting it, she realized the very act of putting her
thoughts on paper had suddenly and inspirationally revealed a solution to her lonely
distressing problems. Almost mystically and immediately, she felt released from the
confining bonds of confusion and restlessness, free from all enshrouding worry, at peace
with her own disturbing emotion. Unbelievably, the answer had been revealed –
simply, unemotionally and irreversibly.
Rising from her seat buoyantly, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders
– as indeed it had – Jean meticulously shredded the thought-revealing sheath of papers
into small jagged squares, then ceremoniously watched them flutter into a nearby
wastebasket like tiny shimmering snowflakes as they descended into the waiting mouth
of some deep dark cavern.
With her newfound sense of awareness, then, she quickly and methodically began
gathering together the personal belongings and memorabilia of her short marriage,
swiftly and neatly packing them, and by early afternoon had closed her small bank
account, had the six year old Falcon restored to passable running order and was
skimming south on U.S. 101 headed for Gilpin, New Mexico, without having so much
as one single nostalgic memory for her former residence.


Chapter 4

At precisely 10:30 p.m., Harold Clark rose from his comfortable recliner, slipped on a
light sweater and, without a word to Amy, his svelte, dark-haired wife, who sat
contentedly munching a snack of hot-buttered popcorn and creme soda, left his
manager's quarters to make his nightly inspection tour. In passing his lovely fourteen
year old daughter, Sheila, who sat hunched over her homework at the corner desk, he
smiled. At the sound and vibration of his footsteps, one of the two German shepherds
curled at her feet pricked his ears, head rising, then routinely rose and silently followed
his master.
Together the two males of the Clark family walked out into the clear, half-moon night,
leaving the three females absorbed in their own worlds; one contented with the
television and food, one concentrating on her studies and the other drowsily paying
attention to nothing except the huge dog she was joyously chasing in dream.
For Harold and King, this was a ritual of long standing. Of course, what Amy and
Sheila and Mimi didn't know wouldn't hurt them. There were certain advantages to
owning and managing a resort complex which none of the female Clarks would ever
understand. And that was why Harold consistently resisted his wife's complaining
suggestions about being tied down. Although it was true, it was also the only complaint
she could logically use in her attempts to persuade him to move. In all other areas they
were head and shoulders above their American counterparts. In the sixteen years they
had been in Gilpin, Harold had compounded a modest investment into a thriving
business from which he could – at the ripe old age of thirty-six – comfortably retire,
and without working another day in his life, live at leisure in the manner to which they
were accustomed. And besides, Gilpin was ideally suited to their tastes – small, friendly
and congestion-free, with a clear, clean-aired panorama matched only by a handful of
places in the world.
That was the trouble, he thought, stopping for a moment to affectionately stroke King's
smooth-coated head: women didn't know when they were well off.
As they continued their rounds of the first of four long, two story buildings – the first
and second sections were used for transient lodgers, the third and fourth for monthly,
seasonal or yearly – he stopped to recoil a garden hose that some enterprising
youngster had left haphazardly across the walk, then continued on.
As they moved, Harold's eyes were ever watchful, glancing into windows, hoping to
catch glimpses of women tenants in some stage of careless undress. However, it wasn't
until he walked through the third section, where he removed a child's tricycle and a
pair of roller skates from the walk, that he was rewarded with a flash of naked flesh as
the young widow with the two obstreperous kids disappeared into her bathroom. He
stood there, still and silent, peering into her bedroom, then after a moment, decided he
couldn't afford to be that obvious. Anyway, he was headed for a more definite goal. It
was almost always a sure thing!
There was nothing more of interest in the fourth section, where the resident swimming
pool was located, and he mounted the stairs to the vacant, second-story apartment at
the rear, letting himself in with his pass-key. He walked through the dark rooms
directly to the television set and turned it on.
Almost instantly the small screen spread with light, crackled once or twice, then began
focusing, delineating the blurry images into fine clear detail. Revealed was a room much
the same as the one he was in – the only glaring exception being that it was obviously
inhabited though its inhabitants were not at the moment present.
Harold touched a button and the closed-circuit video apparatus responded with a
picture of an equally uninhabited bathroom, from which, over the sets speaker system,
emitted a very clear drip-drip-dripping of the washbasin faucet.
Harold swore silently. The Arnolds must have gone out for the evening. Ordinarily, he
could have set his watch by the blonde's activities. By this time, she should have been
bare-assed naked, getting ready to take her evening bath.
The owner-manager was disappointed, but he had a half-hour to play with... maybe as
much as forty-five minutes, before Amy would become uneasy. There was no sense, he
told himself, in pushing his luck, or in provoking more endless arguments.
Patiently, Harold settled down to wait. There was still plenty of time... and watching
Cindy Arnold was always worthwhile!

* * *

Cindy walked into the bathroom and snapped on the light. Over her shoulder, she was
speaking to Greg, her husband. "Of course I know the rent's three days past due!" she
snapped. "That's just another reason why you ought to go down to the unemployment
office tomorrow!"
Greg's answer came from the bedroom. "They haven't had anything for me for the past
two weeks and they won't until the whole industry opens up. Those defense cutbacks
really hurt us this time!"
"So? Try something else. Why don't you sign up with an employment agency?"
Their voices carried clearly to the manager, watching in the darkness. She was in the
bathroom... and she was undressing, as usual. He was in luck. The luminous dial on his
wristwatch told him he had only waited for twelve minutes.
"Those agencies cost too damned much!" Greg stated.
So! It was true! Young Arnold had lost his job. That was the reason they hadn't paid
their rent on time. Damn! Harold didn't like the prospect of losing the young couple as
tenants.
The blonde woman had been one of the best ones he had spied on... getting his kicks
through vicarious fantasy.
He watched avidly as she undressed, her garments coming off, one by one, quickly. She
always did it the same way, Harold grinned musingly to himself. He knew every move
she would make. Her hose were always removed in the bedroom, then, first thing in the
bathroom, she slipped off her skirt. Next, her blouse came off, followed by her frilly slip
pulled up over her head, leaving only brief panties and a lacy brassiere.
Sometimes, then, she stood before the mirror putting up her hair, and he'd have to wait
to see her completely naked. Tonight, though, she wasn't stopping to put up her hair
with bobby pins, and slipped off her panties almost immediately, revealing the soft
golden "vee" of her pubic triangle and the smooth swelling curve of her hips.
Harold gasped as she bent over to pick up her panties, the fullness of her white ripe
buttocks presented to him momentarily, and there, between her thighs, he saw the pink
flesh of her tantalizing little cunt. There was the familiar throbbing ache and lurch as
his rapidly growing penis thrust out against his pants. Christ! How he'd love to fuck
that sweet young thing!
With a deft movement, Cindy unhooked her brassiere and slipped it off. The full
heaving mounds of her full, pink-tipped breasts were revealed, and Harold, watching
her, wished fervently he could get his hands on them. He knew it was impossible. She'd
never have anything to do with the likes of Harold Clark, or would she? Maybe she
would – under the right conditions!
Just as he knew he would, and always would, he reached down, unzipped his fly and
reached inside to bring his heavy erect cock out, his fist encircling it, holding it for a
moment before moving his hand on it to retract the foreskin. King, lying quietly beside
him, watched knowingly.
The conversation in the Arnolds' apartment had stopped, and Cindy stooped to turn on
the water in the bathtub. Harold gasped again, with that tiny glimpse he got of her
tight little pussy, and he imagined himself standing behind her, shoving his hard cock
right up into the soft liquid warmth of her clutching cunt.
His hand moved spasmodically, carrying out his fantasy, but his mind still dwelled on a
possibility. Certain conditions were present! If he played it right, maybe he really could
get her into bed... for real. A plan began to form in his mind.
Satisfied now with the water, Cindy stepped into the tub and lay down. In the darkened
apartment, Harold watched her every move as she bathed, his hand moving faster on
the shaft of his cock – until at last he came all over the floor.

* * *

The scene that followed in the Arnolds' bedroom would have been all too familiar to
Harold Clark. It was too bad he didn't have more time, but his hand had given him a
measure of satisfaction and, as he had spurted out his spewing semen, his mind was
made up. He was going to get it into that prissy little cunt... tomorrow!

* * *

Greg Arnold was sexually stimulated by the topless show he had insisted he and Cindy
attend and he was looking forward to tonight's activities in bed.
But he had had to wait. Cindy insisted on absolute cleanliness. They had to go through
the ritual of a bath before she would even consider having sex. Well, he went along
with it. There were a lot of things he had learned to put up with in this marriage
business... too many, he thought sometimes.
Then he went into the bedroom expectantly but he found her with nightgown on,
covered up and asleep, or feigning sleep. Christ! She had pulled that on him too
damned many times already.
He crawled in under the covers, naked. Reaching out for her, he said softly, "Cindy...
honey...?"
There was no answer.
Turning on his side, he moved up close to her supine form and reached out to cup a
full ripe breast in his hand. She stirred, turned on her side, her back to him, legs drawn
up, curling herself into a ball, and settled comfortably into the soft mattress of the bed.
It had happened this way too often. Frustrated anger rose in him, spilling over acidly as
he growled, "Goddamn it, Cindy! I know you're awake and just trying to put me off
again!"
Roughly, he reached down, grasped the hem of her nightgown and jerked it up above
her smooth flaring hips. There was a ripping sound of a seam giving way. Her thighs
were exposed, nakedly, his hand going in over the swell of her ripely molded hips to
the bristly "vee" of her pubic mound and trying to worm its way down into the deep
triangle of her alluring loins.
"You don't have to tear my nightgown off!" she complained.
"Things like that wouldn't happen if you'd just act like a normal wife!" Greg fired back.
"You knew I wanted it tonight!"
"But I don't!" Cindy snapped, attempting to writhe her heedlessly uncovered pussy
away from his searching hand.
"So why don't you let me work you up to it? Really get you ready for it, so you'll enjoy
it more?" he coaxed.
"You've never made me enjoy it yet!" She was caustic.
"Damn it. Honey, you've never let me do the right things! You hardly ever let me use
my hand on your clitoris. And if you'd just once let me use my mouth on your cunt,
you'd find out what you've been missing!"
"I'll never let you do that filthy thing either!" she flared. "And I don't like you to use
those dirty words!"
"Damn it, Cindy, it doesn't have to be this way. An argument and a big hassle every
time I want to fuck you!"
"I told you I don't like those words!" Her voice was cold, deadly.
"There's not much chance I'll stop, now!" he gritted, "anymore than I'm going to stop
wanting you... and I want you. Now!"
"Why can't you wait until tomorrow night?"
"Tomorrow and tomorrow again! Christ! I want it tonight! I've got a big aching cock
and I've got to use it on you! You're my wife! That's reason enough!"
"Go douse some cold water on it!" she told him.
"Yeah, I could do that, but I'm not going to, baby! I could jerk it off, too, but I won't
do that either!" he seethed. "But there's one thing I've been tempted to do. And I may
do that yet!"
"Wh-What's that?"
"Find another woman that knows how to fuck!"
"You... w-wouldn't...?"
"I sure as hell will if this hassle keeps up much longer!" It Was a flat statement. He
meant every word of it.
She turned toward him, panic beating hard in her. "You mean sex is so important to
you that you'd be unfaithful to me?"
"I sure as hell would!"
"Now I know what my mother put up with all those years!" she gasped in shocked
horror.
"We're not talking about your mother!" Greg growled. "We're talking about you and
me... and whether I'm going to lay you tonight!"
It had never occurred to Cindy that Greg, in his dissatisfaction, might turn to other
women for sex, the way her own father had. It was very important to her that her
marriage not be threatened. She would just have to learn to put up with it, agree to it,
even if she didn't feel like it. Then, too, that would be better than having Greg force her
to do it, as he had several times before when she had refused him.
Turning over on her side, facing her husband now, her reluctant decision made, she
said, "All right, darling, if you really have to have it, we'll make love!"
"Oh, darling, I love you!" His arms encircled her and pulled her close, the hardened
shaft of his stiffly pulsing cock prodding into the resilient flesh of her abdomen.
"I love you too... Greg," she said, sure that she meant it – it was the sexual side of love
she didn't understand. To her it was messy, sometimes painful, but never enjoyable. It
was something she had to endure, even moreso now, to keep her marriage intact.
Greg's admission of a temptation to stray had frightened her, had brought to mind her
mother's plight. She didn't want that! Why, she asked herself, couldn't she be the kind
of wife Greg wanted?
It was a dutiful submitting wife that allowed her smooth tapering thighs to spread,
allowed his hand to rummage at her pussy, his finger searching for and finding the still
flaccid tip of her clitoris, hidden down between the soft fleshy folds of her cuntal clit.
She lay there, her body unresponding, and went through the motions of receiving his
lovemaking, accepting his kisses, enduring the mauling of her breasts – his mouth
following his hands to kiss and suck her nipples, finally, into erection under their
stimulation. Then, as he swarmed against her, deep in his own passionate need, she
parted her thighs, lying on her back to be mounted. Cradling her husband between her
legs, she lay there quietly, unable to respond in the ways she knew she should. Greg's
hard turgid cock went up into the unready dryness of her cuntal sheath, hurting her,
causing her irritation – but she wouldn't let herself cry out in protest! She had made up
her mind not to deny him – but she denied herself, denied her own sexuality.
And Greg, sensing that she felt nothing, that it made no real difference to her, that she
was going through the motions by allowing him to use her body, did just that. He used
her.
With quick jackhammer strokes he thrust almost brutally up into the resilient cuntal
passage of his wife, intent only upon attaining his own orgasm in the full knowledge
that she would not climax. She never had... yet. Sometimes he thought she was afraid of
it, that she wouldn't let herself go so that she could. Frigid... that was the one word that
described his wife, he decided. But the hell of it was he didn't know how to help her!
Then, thundering to his own ejaculative orgasm, his passion-hardened cock spewing
forth his hot white sperm, he collapsed on top of her, his need for sexual release
fulfilled.
Cindy felt nothing. She had been used again, and there was a great emptiness inside
her.
Finally, after several long minutes, Greg's penis returned to softness inside her belly,
and he rolled from her to go promptly to sleep.
Lying beside him, Cindy was sleepless. This time, as it had been on a few other
occasions, she had felt the beginning of a slow burning sensation, almost like a promise
of things as they could be. But the tiny flickering fire in her loins was extinguished
almost before it sparked momentarily into life.
There had to be something in it. Whatever it was, why did it elude her so completely?
It was true, just as Greg had said before – there was no reason why her mother's
problems should become hers... and yet, Cindy's married life was like a rerun. How is
the pattern broken? How do you break through the barrier of attitudes learned at an
early age?
Feeling that great hollow, empty void in her womb, Cindy wondered how it was that
she had gone into her marriage expecting so much from it... and had found so little. It
was hard for her to realize that a year of marriage had changed her so much, yet she
had changed so little in the ways that were most important. Now if she weren't careful,
her marriage could come to a tragic end. In divorce. She must heed that warning!


Chapter 5

When Harold Clark and King returned to the manager's apartment – which was
actually four of the smaller rooms in section one converted into a two-story apartment
with kitchen, living room and office downstairs and two baths – Amy had gone to bed
and Sheila, with Mimi asleep at her feet, was still hunched over her homework.
"Working kind of late, aren't you, honey?" Harold asked, frowning then smiling as his
daughter looked up to meet his gaze.
"I've got a mid-term tomorrow, Daddy!" she said with breathless teenage intensity.
"Don't you remember? The one I told you about at dinner!"
"Sure, sure honey," he replied quickly. "Sorry, I guess I forgot."
"Oh, Daddy! You're always forgetting! I hope you didn't forget about the new dress for
the school dance Friday night!"
"No, no, I haven't forgotten," he said, slipping his arm around his daughter's shoulders
affectionately, then brushing her cheek with a quick kiss. "Don't stay up too late,
though. You need your rest."
"Oh Daddy!"
"Goodnight, honey."
"Night, Daddy," she said softly, her attention already returned to the book 'lying upon
the desk.
"I've already locked up," Harold said from the stairwell. 'The vacancy sign's off and all
the doors are locked."
"Umm," she said absentmindedly and without looking up from the book.
"Come on, King. Time for bed."
Immediately, Sheila swung around in her chair. "P-l-e-a-s-e let him stay, Daddy. He and
Mimi keep me company."
Harold paused on the next tread, a curious subconscious thought nagging at his
memory. What was it? Something about King... something about King remaining with
Sheila...
... Oh, well, it mustn't be very important or else he would remember it. "Okay, honey.
But remember – not too late now."
"Okay, Daddy. I won't. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
After the sound of water running had stopped in the upstairs bathroom and the door to
her parents' bedroom had closed softly but audibly, Sheila immediately closed the book
she had been staring at without turning a page for the past twenty minutes and began
hurriedly turning off all the downstairs lights, moving familiarly through the living
room until only a dim illumination filtered down the stairwell and into the room from
the upstairs hall light.
As she turned to go up to her bedroom, a raggedy gasping sound like an old car on its
last legs drew her attention to the large picture window which looked out on the
resort's driveway. Moving silently and cautiously around the sofa, Sheila plucked at one
eye-level slat of the Venetian blinds, twisting it cautiously ninety degrees, so that she
could look out.
It was indeed an old car – old by Sheila's standards anyway – and it had stopped
directly opposite the office door. Probably someone looking for a room, she thought.
One of the inconveniences of the hostelry life, and one that at this time of night her
father forbade her to perform. It was all right when her parents went on a short Sunday
drive and she was left in charge, but never late at night. And ordinarily Sheila would
never have given it a second thought, but tonight she was in one of her devilish moods
and when she saw who got out of the old car, she was so swayed with surging teenage
adoration she resolved then and there to handle it herself. The thought that she was
doing her parents a service by not disturbing them never entered her mind.
To Sheila, the young woman who was approaching the office door under the light of the
half moon was easily the most alluring female she had ever laid eyes upon. True, she
did appear slightly disheveled – as did most of their transient tenants after an arduous
journey – but there was an underlying grace and beauty to the woman that transcended
the grimiest of situations. And it was rapt attention to this quality which kept Sheila
rooted to the window so long that the woman was ready to send the night bell into
shrill disturbing cacophony before the young girl reached the door to stop her.

* * *

Harold Clark nearly swallowed the cigarette he had just lit and stuck between his lips
when, after hearing voices below, he came down the stairs and saw the svelte blonde
standing in his office.
Hot Damn, he muttered reverently under his breath. That had to be the best piece of
action ever to hit Gilpin.
Mentally, his thoughts raced with the speed of rampant wildfire, his size-up and plan of
attack completed in no more time than it would have taken him to unzip the fly of his
pants. If she planned to stay more than one night, he would give her the room next to
the Arnolds, the one he purposefully kept vacant for just such occasions!
Smugly, Harold approached the office, planning to take over from his daughter who he
noted curiously was acting overly friendly to a complete stranger.
Sheila turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. "Oh, Daddy," she said buoyantly,
"this is Jean! Uncle Bob's wife."
Daddy's face shattered like a piece of fine china!

* * *

Jean Clark lay back in bed and gazed into the darkness of the slightly chilly September
night, hearing the soft sounds of shuffling feet moving down the carpeted hallway
outside her door. After an interval, all was silent save for the wind murmuring in the
pines surrounding the resort.
She was keyed up and unnerved by the long fatiguing drive from California but realized
she had only herself to blame. She could have just as easily taken her time, enjoying the
scenery and adding an extra night's lodging to the madcap two-day journey. But she
hadn't. Once she had made her decision to come to Gilpin, it seemed as though she
was being driven by some external force to get there, a force which she had no control
over. With each wearisome, tire-humming mile the lame Falcon had seemed to
communicate to her a message, each methodical tattooing revolution of its ageknocking 
tappets echoing a hypnotic need for haste.
But now it seemed as if it had all been for naught. The little car had made it, as had
she, unscathed. And Gilpin had been a pleasant yet curious surprise. After leaving U.S.
70 at Lordsburg, she had taken the state highway that passed through the heart of Gila
National Forest, entering the dimly lit, tree-lined main street of Gilpin shortly before
eleven-thirty. The buildings on the main thoroughfare were in a state of aging disrepair
and it was obvious, from the newly boarded-up windows of some of the stores, that the
community was experiencing hard times. Jean had the distinct impression as she passed
the town's central square, dominated by what appeared to be an authentic ceremonial
Indian Hogan, of being in another era... as though the clock had stopped in Gilpin
shortly before the turn of the last century.
After a few blocks she had come to a huge, tastefully crafted mural depicting the local
mountain scenery, into which had cleverly been interlaced the wares offered by the
Silver Mountain Resort. And set into the dark frame of the mural was soft, but
candescent, recessed lighting, and after a moment Jean realized that nowhere in Gilpin
had she seen the usual, and all too common, garish Madison-Avenue-inspired ballyhoo
nor a single blinking, winking, twinkling neon light.
Set off to the left – where a narrow macadam lane meandered rustically into a thick
grove of stately pines – reposed the impressive bulk of the Silver Mountain Resort. Jean
had really not known what to expect – of either Silver Mountain or its owners – and
both had been a welcome surprise.
Now she fluffed up her pillow, then stretched one lovely arm out to the nightstand
where she had left her cigarettes. Lighting one, she leaned back, remembering as she
stared at the ember glowing in the velvety blackness...
There had been a rather curious reaction to her arrival at her brother and sister-in-law's,
she thought: Looking as if he had suddenly been seized with an acute pain, Harold had
stammered a greeting, shaken her hand – rather awkwardly, she thought – then led her
into the living room. While Sheila was in the kitchen making her a sandwich and a cup
of tea, Harold Clark began to regain his composure and, as she explained the purpose
of her visit, his mood changed from quiet curiosity to ecstatic extroversion.
Shortly after his daughter returned with the snack, Harold excused himself, leaving Jean
alone with Sheila in the modestly decorated living room. Even though the young girl
seemed a bit too sensual and flippant for her age, Jean had decided that she liked her
and, although weary, she felt like talking with her awhile before going to bed. But
Sheila soon ran out of questions to ask and began yawning.
Quickly then, Jean finished her tea and followed Sheila up the stairway to the second
floor. She was shown to the first of two rooms on the left of the hallway, as Sheila
explained that the end room was hers, and that between them was a bath, accessible
from both bedrooms. It wasn't until after Sheila left her that a weary Jean realized she
had left the car outside the office, unlocked and with her suitcase in it.
Quietly she had slipped downstairs and out to the car, locking it and the office door
behind her when she returned. As she moved across the dimly lit living room and
started up the stairs, she was startled into immobility by an unexpectedly loud snail!'
But it was only King, the Clark's beautiful German shepherd, sitting at the head of the
stairs, who had apparently come out of his young mistress's room to check out an
unusual noise and an unfamiliar scent. Jean petted him affectionately on his sleek head,
then entered her room as he continued on down the hallway to the open door of
Sheila's room.
After changing into her nightgown, Jean knocked lightly on the bathroom door and,
receiving no answer, entered, washed, then slipped gratefully into the unfamiliar bed.
That was over a half hour ago, and still she couldn't sleep. She stubbed her cigarette in
the ashtray irritably and rolled onto her stomach, pulling the light quilted covers over
her head – something she did not remember doing since she was a child – and
gradually, finally, drifted into a light sleep.


Chapter 6

Drowsing for only a few minutes, Jean was awakened by the sound of a muffled but
high-pitched human voice. Abruptly the startled blonde sat up. She thought she had
heard someone cry out, but now everything was silent, save for the murmuring wind.
Had she been dreaming?
Again, after a short interval, the sound began. This time it was lower, gravelly, as
though it had come from an animal. It was answered by an unearthly pleading tone...
almost as if someone – a woman – was being tortured! The attractive young blonde
rose from bed, illuminated by a silvery wash of light from the moon that hovered at
window level. She remained there, rooted statuesquely for some moments, the silvery
crescent of the moon igniting her long blonde hair into a glowing halo of tiny twinkling
lights and turning the diaphanous blue folds of her nightgown into a shimmering
ethereal robe.
"Oh, GODDDDDD!" a muffled woman's voice came from the direction of the
bathroom.
As if drawn hypnotically, Jean moved to the door, slowly turned the knob and softly
entered into the darkness. Here the voice was clearer, groaning tremulously in an
agonized whisper that tightened Jean's stomach into a frightened knot. Above the voice,
she heard a low unearthly whining, then: "Oh, yessss. yesssss, do it like that!"
Jean recognized the voice as Sheila's, her tone begging, insistent. The young visitor
pushed herself against the tiled wall next to the adjoining room, uncertain what to do.
Again the moans penetrated through the wall, reverberating with a greater urgency, and
Jean recoiled from the wall, determined now to flee, to leave alone something that was
none of her business.
At the door to her own bedroom she stopped. The girl's whimpering tones had
suddenly changed from insistent moans to low breathless gasps of... of painful
pleasure!!! Instinctively she knew the feelings that accompanied that sound, for had she
not experienced them herself at the hands of Bill Martin only three days before?!
For long moments then, Jean stood immobile in the darkened bathroom, her mind
whirling in confusion. It was all so terribly upsetting. She hadn't asked to be put in this
situation, but through her own foolishness, here she was! Now she must find out. And
there was only one way!
She breathed deeply and placed her finger delicately on the doorknob to Sheila's room.
As though watching herself in a dream, she slowly inched her body gently against the
door. It made a tiny squeak and she stopped, momentarily afraid she would be detected.
Then, recalling the times when as a child she had slipped into her parents' bedroom
when frightened by a bad dream, she became instinctively aware of how much pressure
to place on the knob so as to turn it without making a sound. Her whole body tensed
as it turned softly and she felt it begin to give against her pressure.
"Oh, do it, do it!" Sheila's slightly high-pitched voice hissed, and then there was the
unmistakable rhythmic creak of bedsprings.
Jean's heart seemed to stop, and she dared not breathe. For a moment she feared she
had been heard pushing steadily against the now unlodged door. But no! – There were
still strange rhythmic sounds coming through the crack. The door gave a little against
her gentle pressure and quite clearly she could make out heavy staccato-like breathing,
the creaking tempo of bedsprings and... and an animal-like snarl! Moonlight poured
through the cracked bathroom door from the bedroom's window, casting an eerie,
rectangular glow across the tiled floor.
Suddenly she realized what she should have known from the first. She paled, then
gulped in horror!
There on the bed was Sheila locked in a nakedly lewd embrace of intercourse with
King, the big male German shepherd. Good God, how naive could she be? What a fool
she was to have followed her curiosity when she should have known all along! The dog
had the girl pinned in a kneeling position to the bed, trying to pry her lithe long legs
open wider with his forepaws even though his wetly glistening penis was already buried
deep up between her obscenely upraised, writhing buttocks. The soles of Sheila's feet
pointed directly toward the door and Jean could see the heavy sac of King's sperm
inflated balls and nearly the entire length of his hotly skewering animal-cock, thrusting
in and out of the moistly gleaming edges of the girl's clasping cunt. God, it was a
depraved sight!
Jean began to shake uncontrollably, biting down hard on the back of her hand to keep
from crying out in dismay and shock. She had no idea whether the young girl was
enjoying the lewd act or not, but what really shocked her was the sight of copulation,
the reality of the perverse animal-human act taking place right in front of her very eyes!
She was shaking too hard to close the door so she just stood there, helplessly, trying to
regain her composure. It obviously would do no good for her to attempt to help
physically, and it was unclear to her whether Sheila would welcome any assistance.
Jean could see the huge German shepherd's furry body plunge obscenely between the
long white columns of the beautiful young blonde's legs, spreading them wide apart.
From this position the undetected observer had a perfect view of the two bodies, the
dog's forepaws clasped over the girl's shoulders, foreshadowing the softly jostling
breasts of the school girl, his furry black back taut and muscled, contrasting sharply
against Sheila's own smooth white curves. As he slowly withdrew his massively rigid
penis from her tightly clasping cuntal sheath in preparation to spearing hotly back up
inside her accepting cunt, Jean was able to see the actual size of the huge scarlet animal
organ. It was much longer than Bob's, and she couldn't see how a woman could take
such a big thing – it seemed it would go all the way up into Sheila's belly!
But it didn't. It sluiced warmly back up inside the wildly gasping girl who welcomed it
with an eager cry of wanton entreaty.
What had appeared to be a struggling motion coming from Sheila was clearly not that
at all! Jean winced as she heard the smack of the dog's stomach against Sheila's back.
The girl's unearthly whimper pierced Jean's ears like the cry of a wounded animal, yet
she could see the young girl's face contort in obvious sensual rapture!
Jean's heart pounded like a jackhammer until she was certain they could hear it across
the room, and she pressed one hand to her own ripely surging breast as though to dull
the telltale sound.
The obscenely coupled figures on the bed were immobile for a moment, then King
resumed the smoothly gyrating motion with his animal-buttocks over the impaled
young girl. Gradually then, he withdrew his long fleshy penile column, pulling it inch
by scarlet inch from the moistly clasping confines of the girl's cunt, then thrusting
obscenely forward, holding his lewd hardness there. Again he withdrew, until the
underside of the red tapering point was actually visible to the hypnotized Jean. Her
mouth fell open in shocked disbelief as Sheila's feet kicked upward, striking King's
slowly thrusting, hind-quarters, her heels now tight against his furry animal-anus,
straining to push him tighter up into her! The cords of her inner thighs flexed tightly as
she ground her clenching ass-cheeks back and up against the wetly glistening animalpenis. 
Her sensuously hollowing buttocks rose spasmodically off the bed as she strove
desperately to suck the length of hotly throbbing dog-cock back into the fleshy pink lips
of her unsatiated cuntal sheath. A moist sluicing sound echoed across the room as she
wantonly thrust her hungry loins back up to him, her pussy working warmly up its full
obscene length.
Sheila's buttocks had begun grinding faster now, and the groans and mewls of primal
pleasure were becoming more desperate as the dazed, almost unknowing gaze of her
watching aunt remained fixed in obscene fascination on the abnormally lewd coupling
taking place on the bed.
Sheila's insane backward, uplifting thrusts were received with answering jabs from the
dog's hind-quarters, ramming hard up into her hungrily clutching cunt, pile-driving her
back down against the squeaking mattress.
Sheila hurled an obscenity at the dog as she squirmed salaciously, trying to regain her
former position. Fuck! The word sent a forbidden tingling of guilt through Jean,
drumming ceaselessly into her shock-seized mind. Her emotional stability seemed
suddenly adrift in a flood of guilt-laden sensation: Why was she here? What insane
female masochism was making her watch! God! she was as fearful of her own unknown
instincts as she was shocked by the debauched scene going on a few feet from the
bathroom door! If this could happen to Sheila – assuming that the young girl had
struggled at first – if Sheila could be driven to insane submission by that dog, it... it
could happen to anyone! Jean felt a slight electrified tingle dart menacingly up between
her own full thighs. My God, it could have happened to me!
She watched thunderstruck now as her blonde niece's buttocks gyrated up again, her
legs splaying but, her toes curling in lewd delight before the vicious rampaging of the
erotically incensed German shepherd.
Jean shook violently now. Despite the chill in the air, beads of perspiration had broken
out on her neck and in the warmly tingling cleft of her breasts. She knew she should
leave: Yes, return now to her bed, pull the covers over her head, seal out the depraved
sounds. But she couldn't!
Without moving, she shut her eyes, Again, she heard the girl's voice, deep and
groveling, as King fucked in and out of her hotly clasping pussy. Even with her eyes
closed she could still see his long stiff scarlet staff as it thrust into Sheila's hotly
gripping vagina. "Oh, oh, oh," came the guttural chant from the bed.
Jean turned from the door. Halfway across the bathroom, she froze. Yes, she too had
become excited, and she did not want to leave! A tiny smouldering spark had ignited
between her own legs, and vainly she tried to clamp her softly trembling thighs
together. But she did not want the pleasure to stop!
Stepping onto the bathmat in the center of the room, she slid the nubby fabric across
the floor to the bedroom door with her bare feet. Propping one leg on the rim of the
bathtub, she suddenly felt a shock of cool night air wafting over her wetly seething
vagina with shuddering ecstasy. What on earth was happening to her? Up between her
thighs her loins were pulsating strangely – not unlike the way they had shivered with
pleasurable sensation when Bill Martin's tongue had been obscenely tantalizing them!
She didn't understand it, couldn't understand it, much less comprehend why she
remained in the bathroom. She was in an almost mesmerized state now, as if she had
been concentrating on the pendulum effect produced by a hypnotist's dangling watch
chain and had fallen into a deep trance.
Her left hand slid down along her curvaceous young body, down the flat plane of her
stomach to rest on her own soft pubic mound, to rest there and then to begin to rub
back and forth, back and forth through the diaphanous material of her nightgown. She
could feel her warm slippery moistness flowing down her eagerly trembling thighs,
flowing freely from her wetly palpitating vagina. Her right hand fluttered up and
cupped one ripe tingling breast and she squeezed its lust-hardened nipple, feeling it leap
into even greater erection at her demented caress.
As she touched herself, she peered once more at the nakedly writhing figures through
the partially opened door.
Sheila's groaning was almost incoherent now, and her sweat-streaked body thrashed
about on the bed in wild abandon. Jean's hands caressed the folds of her own
nightgown, touching the suppleness of her warm eager flesh beneath, then began
gathering up the gauzy material, drawing it farther, farther, farther along her smoothly
curving thighs – until the triangular silkiness of her moistly quivering cunt was
revealed.
Holding the gown bunched at her waist then, she lowered her right hand to her own
soft pubic mound and began to rub it as she had done before, knowing in a dim part of
her consciousness that what she was doing was wrong – but still she was unable to stop
herself! Her outstretched middle finger timidly slid across the trembling, hair-lined
furrow until it came into maddening contact with the erect bud of her tiny clitoris, then
she circled her fingertip across the turgid secret pleasure center, bringing to her young
pussy a new, surging, warmly consuming pleasure.
She could feel moistness flowering gently beneath the fleshy folds of her slick cuntal
lips and she lowered her finger, insinuating it up into her tightly clasping cunt. A
moment later, her mind reeling in ecstasy, she was working her finger in and out, in
and out, as her thumb flicked incessantly at her hotly quivering clitoris.
Through the door she could see the dog's long, lewdly glistening animal-cock ramming
its way up into Sheila's wet clasping pussy, plunging through the damp curling blonde
pubic hair like a greased red banana. She could make out the large furry form of his
back arched up threateningly over the lushly naked girl who was once again pounding
her heels into his smoothly pummeling flanks. The girl's face was contorted into a lewd
grimace now, her eyes opening and shutting with each rapid plunging stroke of her
pet's lust-thickened hardness.
Jean shut out all knowledge that what she was doing was wrong, knowing that it made
no difference if she felt guilt or not. All that mattered was to reach climax before she
went insane with the lust that seemed to be ticking like a time bomb inside her
awakened belly, ready to explode!
Jean could see King's scarlet hardness splurging lewdly into Sheila, who strained back
beneath him, buffeting her loins up against the grinding assault on her wildly writhing
cunt as groan after fitful groan escaped her lips. Her head was flaying from side to side,
the moonlight spilling through her tangled blonde hair as again and again King
rammed into the insanely thrashing girl, his fucking strokes becoming more and more
rapid, causing the bedsprings to squeak obscenely with each thrust of his hotly
pistoning animal-penis which was bringing the squealing Sheila closer and closer to
relief-giving release.
Weakly Jean pressed her own body against the threshold of the bathroom door, her full
white breasts trembling sensuously, her entire curvaceous body quivering with
electrified ripples of erotic sensation that were sweeping over her, racing through the
warmly throbbing lips of her vagina and up into the deeper recesses of her ecstatically
heaving belly.
Her face was colored deeply with the wild pounding of her heart as she felt her own
orgasm coming, building within her like a surging, storm-swelled wave, and for a
moment she clung to the door, savoring the lewd pulsing pleasure tingling obscenely in
her wetly clasping vaginal sheath.
In front of her the two wantonly writhing figures were contorting spasmodically on the
sheet-tangled bed, a low bestial snarl escaping the animal's throat as the girl's whitely
gleaming buttocks continued their wild staccato pounding back into his furry
pummeling canine cock.
At the same time Jean could feel her own body begin to spasm violently as her
clenching vagina began to spew the hot juices of release in gushing spurts around her
worming fingers, immediately covering her hand, then streaming warmly down her
tingling thighs. Simultaneously, a muffled scream – which would have been piercing
and awakened the whole household had not Sheila buried her face in the bed coverings
echoed hollowly through the room, followed forthwith by a low animal groan that
signaled the dual fury of savage orgasm between woman and beast.
For several moments, Jean just stood there, her legs quivering wearily, her naked
buttocks swaying gently from side to side. She couldn't bring herself to withdraw her
fingers from her wetly nibbling vagina until the last dying throb of her climax was
stilled within her body. At last she heard the bed squeak in the next room, jarring her
back to consciousness. Peering through the crack of the door, she saw her young niece
lying alone on the bed. The girl's legs were still parted, her buttocks raised as though
she had been frozen in that fucking position. Her face was turned toward Jean in a
blank stare, her hands cupped over her young heaving breasts in a gesture of complete
satiation. Slowly Jean's fingers slipped moistly from her own requited cunt; slowly she
turned from the door.
As the young wife returned to her bed, pulling the covers over her still trembling body,
she felt the darkness of her guilt flood over her. She didn't know what had come over
her, but she was sure of one thing: She had to get control of herself before something
even more dreadful happened.
Her weary body curled sensually into the softness of the big bed and at last the
refreshing, welcoming arms of sleep glided smoothly over her confused mind.


Chapter 7

Jean bolted upright in bed, cold beads of perspiration covering her body. She shook her
head from side to side in an effort to clear out the obscene images that still lingered in
her nocturnal subconscious. In the dream, she had been standing behind the airport's
chain-link fence, waiting for her returning husband to join her, but all along the fence,
little boys of all ages pulled at her dress which had somehow become transparent and
she could see that each of them had their young penises in their hands, fondling them
and offering them to her. And then, coming from behind her, she heard a strange
buzzing and, looking around, she saw her father mowing the lawn that was growing on
the concrete.
And now, finally awake, the mowing sound continued. The blonde sat very still, her
blurred eyes staring out the parted curtains hung over the window to the side of her
bed. Through the brightness she could see the branches of a tree shimmering in the
dazzling light, and beyond she glimpsed the hazy form of a mountain rising behind
some buildings.
Where was she?
This room wasn't her room. No, she was somewhere else and there was even a different
odor in the air. It smelled of dust and age, mixed with the scent of new-mown grass.
And there was something else. She tried to move onto her side and felt the strange
rawness between her legs.
She drew herself up in the bed, pulling the sheets down from her breasts, catching the
reflection of herself in the mirror on the opposite wall. Her pretty heart-shaped face
looked tired with a line or two beneath her green almond-shaped eyes, and her
nightgown appeared mussed with a small tear at the neckline. She raised her hands and
cupped the firmness of her breasts, running her fingers over the slightly sore nipples.
And then she remembered.
She clenched her eyes tightly shut and remembered it all: The long tiring trip... and
later on her own lewd masturbation while Sheila and the dog, King, had twisted and
writhed only a few feet away from her... and then finally her own uncontrollable release
as the sensations of lust had built into an insane crescendo and she had succumbed to
her pent-up desires. Her inhibitions had given way unexplainably, with the fingers of
one hand sluicing wetly into the hotly gushing portals of her cunt until she had come
to orgasm. And that was what the odor was she smelled now, the telltale scent of her
own shameful lust. And that rawness and vague feeling of being spent and used had
come from fingering herself.
Suddenly a woman's voice came from the rooms below, and outside the window she
could hear the low groan of an automobile coming up the drive, and then there were
men's voices, and a door slammed shut. She rose quickly from the bed and made her
way into the bathroom.
She peered into the mirror above the basin and shuddered at the sight of her drawn
face, then turned the hot water on full blast into the tile-rimmed tub and poured a
handful of conspicuously placed scented bath beads in and watched for a moment as
the tub began to fill with the delicious-smelling suds. As soon as it was ready, Jean
knew she would soon begin to feel herself again.
Slowly she lowered herself into the steaming water, feeling its caressing warmth envelop
every inch of her firm young body.
Oh, if only Bob were here to make me feel this way, she sighed as she lay completely
immersed, the fragrant bubbles lapping at her chin.
She felt herself lapsing into a dreamy state as she swirled the washcloth over her erect
nipples. Then, unconsciously, when she began to wash her inner thighs, the cloth
lingered at the pleasurable place between her legs so recently satisfied... and yet still
yearning for more... more... for Bob's loving, doing it just the right way, slowly,
beautifully, passionately. Her fingers slipped up between the wet petals of her cunt, and
she began to flick at the pink interior beneath the water, the delicious sensations rising
within her belly steadily until there was a sharp rap at the door.
Guilt-stricken, the lonely young wife removed her hand quickly, instinctively covering
her unprotected breasts, and asked in a tremulous voice: "Who... who's there?"
"It's me, honey... Amy..." a soothing voice replied. "Are you decent?"
"I'm taking a bath," came the reply.
"I won't disturb you then," Amy said. 'There's a carafe of coffee on the dresser when
you finish. I have to go out for a few minutes, but I'll be back soon."
'Thanks," Jean replied.
There was the sound of receding footsteps, then after a few moments the apartment was
quiet...

* * *

Earlier that morning, Harold Clark had made it a point to find some work to do in the
resident section of the resort complex he owned and managed. He cultivated and
trimmed some shrubs, at the same time keeping an eye on the Arnolds' apartment.
He was pretty sure that young Greg Arnold would be leaving to go to the state
unemployment office. Knowing the extent of current employment, he also guessed that
the blonde's husband would be standing in long lines for several hours, waiting for an
interview. All he needed though was a half-hour or forty-five minutes alone with her in
that apartment. A feeling of unusual excitement at the prospect of what he planned to
do tingled through him. He could barely contain himself. As he worked and watched,
he built fantasies of the coming scene with the young blonde housewife, and he felt his
penis jerk inside his pants with the building anticipation in him.
Finally, Greg left the apartment, strode to his car parked in the carport at the back of
the apartments, and Harold listened as the young man started the engine, backed out
and drove off down the driveway. The manager waited a few minutes, then gathered up
his gardening tools.
Putting the tools away, he went into his own apartment and washed his face and hands.
Combing his dark hair, he looked at himself in the mirror, critically. He decided that he
didn't look too bad... a little eroded, perhaps... but still he wasn't such a bad-looking
guy after all.
Picking up his metal tool box to use as a reason for getting inside the Arnold
apartment, Harold headed for the front door. Amy, ensconced solidly before the
television set watching a daytime serial, looked up. "Where are you going, Harold?"
'To fix a faucet..." He kept right on going.
"Where?" the brunette asked. "... In case I need to get hold of you? Or somebody calls?"
"Over in section three," he lied. "42B... upstairs!" He went out the door swearing under
his breath. Goddamned nosy woman!
He was in a better mood when he knocked at the Arnolds' door. Cindy, who had been
dawdling over a second cup of coffee, came to answer her door, still dressed in her
nightgown and robe. She knew it must be Mr. Clark because he always ignored the
doorbell, preferring to knock instead.
"Oh, hello, Mr. Clark," she said, smiling.
"I'd like to fix that dripping faucet in your bathroom, Mrs. Arnold," he said, knowing it
had been a full two weeks since she had reported it.
"Well, that's fine. I thought maybe you had forgotten it!" She opened the door to let
him in.
"I'll only be a few minutes," he assured her, trying to look down the front of her
dressing gown as he passed her. Instinctively, Cindy clutched the garment tighter about
her.
"All right." She picked up her cup and saucer and carried them into the kitchen as the
manager headed for the bathroom.
Cindy would have preferred to be fully dressed with Mr. Clark in the apartment. She
didn't like the way his eyes wandered, but there was no way she could get dressed now
that he was working in the bathroom. She'd just have to wait for him to finish.
He actually did repair the leaking tap, replacing the neoprene washer rapidly and
efficiently. When he was finished, Harold came into the hallway and said, "I see there's
some damage in here!"
Cindy came to him and asked, "Damage? Where?"
'There's a chip in the bathtub!"
She went into the bathroom to look. "Oh, that!" she said, noting the nick he pointed
out. "That was there when we moved in. Don't you remember?"
Harold was thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe you're right," he said.
She was relieved. For a moment, she had thought they would be charged for something
unfairly. She smiled at him. "I'm glad you remembered!" Then she turned to leave the
bathroom.
Harold's figure blocked the doorway.
"There's another thing, Mrs. Arnold!" he said, his eyes hooded as he looked down at
her. "You're past due on the rent!"
She gasped involuntarily. "Oh! I-I'm sorry. Greg must have forgotten to drop it by," she
lied.
"Look!" Harold said, leering at her openly now. "Don't pull that forgot ting routine on
me!
I know your husband lost his job, and there's not much chance you'll be paying at all!"
Her eyes betrayed the woman's trepidation.
"I-I don't know how you found out, but we'll be paying you in a few days!" she said,
trying to sound reassuring.
"You're four days behind now!" he rasped, then his voice softened and with a salacious
smile he went on, "But maybe we can work out something satisfactory. For both of us."
"I don't understand..."
"Well, you're a big girl. I'll put it to you in plain words. I'll write off the rent... for three
or four sessions in the sack with you!"
Cindy was flabbergasted. It took a second or two for his brazen proposition to sink into
her brain.
"Mr. Clark!" she flared. "Get out! Get out... now!"
"Not until I get what I want!" he said reaching out to take her into his arms. "And it's
you I want!"
His arms encircled her, holding her tight, his mouth coming down to clamp onto hers.
She tried to twist from his strong grip, but she couldn't move. As he pulled her body
close, her loins came into close contact with his and she felt the rigid hardness of his
erect penis inside his pants prodding into her abdomen. Frantic fear gripped her. His
mouth on hers made it impossible for her to scream for help. God! Did this monster
intend to rape her? She had to do something to protect herself!
Suddenly she relaxed in his arms, allowing her body to sag back away from him.
Harold, thinking he had scored an easy victory, released his grasp slightly and took his
mouth from hers to say, "That's more like i... owwwooooohhhh!"
He crumpled at the waist, his hands grabbing at his balls as he grimaced in painful
agony. Cindy's swift desperate knee had come up into his groin, forcefully, the blow
catching him square in the scrotum.
"You bitch!" he coughed. "You fucking little bitch! You've ruined me!"
Cindy darted around him and bounded down the hallway, but Harold caught her in
three steps and shoved her back to the bedroom, sending her careening toward the bed.
Cringing back away from him, Cindy's eyes widened with terror as her landlord
dropped his pants and she saw his still massively hardened penis. She stumbled as her
knees hit the edge of the bed and sprawled off-balance. He was on her instantly and
bore her back onto the bed, hissing, "Don't scream bitch... because you haven't got a
chance if you do!"
"N-No... please...?" she sobbed, tears leaping quickly into her eyes.
He tore the robe and nightgown from her body to shreds. "I'm going to fuck you,
baby!" he told her, levering her thighs apart and wedging his hips between the smooth,
whitely tapering columns.
At that moment Amy walked into the bedroom. "You crazy bastard. I knew you were
up to something!"
"I'll take care of you afterward!" he grated, too hot to be disturbed by his wife's
presence. "Right now this little bitch is going to get fucked until she can't walk
straight!"
"And, meanwhile, I can walk next door and call the cops! They'll put you away for ten
years for forcible rape!"
"Like crap you'll call the cops!" he expostulated. "Because you wouldn't want to miss
any of the fun!"
Cindy struggled beneath him, only half listening to the talk between them and not
understanding it anyway. All she knew was she didn't want this man to do to her what
he intended to do.
"Let me up...!" she whined.
CRACK!
The big man's open hand slashed across her face. "Shut up, bitch... or there'll be more!
I ought to give you the full treatment anyway for that kick in the balls you gave me!"
Amy's laugh was brittle as she taunted, "My what a big brave husband slapping women
around like that!"
Cindy's hand went to her face in disbelief at having been struck by the monster wedged
between her thighs. She sobbed with both pain and fear.
"Stick around for your turn!" he sneered at Amy. "Or maybe you'd like to be in on the
action, too? Maybe she could suck you off while I'm fucking her. I'll bet you'd like that,
wouldn't you?" Harold taunted.
While all this was going on, Harold's stiff thick cock rode into the pulsating furrow of
Cindy's fearfully cringing cunt and, as much as she didn't want it, no matter how she
fought it, for the first time in her life her body began to respond to the masochistic
sensations building insidiously there.
Every nerve ending responded and her hips began to writhe and undulate up to the
source of those perversely erotic, sensual feelings. She couldn't help it... couldn't control
it.
"Maybe," Amy finally answered, noting Cindy's arousal, knowing that now there would
be no turning him aside. The blonde was ready to take him whether she knew it or not.
Then Harold looked down at Cindy beneath him and said sneeringly, "You are a hot
little bitch. All ready for it, aren't you?"
"N-No... I-I..."
"We'll see, damn you!" he leered at her as he raised his hips up a little. "Reach down
and put it in!"
"No!" she sobbed.
"You want another one across the face?"
"Oh, God! No... please..."
"Then put my cock in that cute little cunt of yours!"
She was unable to stop herself. Uncontrollably, doing his bidding reluctantly but with a
certain perverse anticipation, she reached down and gripped the warm pulsing shaft of
his mammothly pounding cock, knowing dimly, as she guided it to her own wildly
palpitating cuntal opening, that in doing so she was sealing her own fate; in that instant
she would become an adulteress. Her marriage was already endangered. Would it really
make any difference now? So many mind-boggling things had happened to her she was
too confused to sort out her thoughts rationally.
"Quit stalling!" Harold Clark snarled at her.
She did it. With a shuddering sigh, she obeyed him – and the dictates of her erotically
aroused body. Her hand moved, directing the blood-engorged cock-head to her own
wet demanding cuntal mouth. She worked it in tiny circles, gradually introducing the
tip into the viscously lubricated interior of her greedy vagina, hardly able to believe that
she was actually doing something so foreign to everything she had once believed.
Amy was an interested onlooker. There was a certain wistfulness in her, a wish that she
was the one taking that beautifully hardened cock into her own hungry needful cunt.
He had been right, of course, she was willing to take sex whenever – and wherever –
she found it. But she was being left out. Perhaps she could join in to make it a
threesome.
Damn! What could she do? It had to be something devastating... but not necessarily
hurtful. Then an idea began to form in the brunette's mind and she hurried out of the
apartment.
Meanwhile Cindy was transfixed. Harold flexed his hips and sent the throbbing length
and breadth of his cock plunging deep into the pulsating coral moistness of her
voracious vaginal passage in one long soaring stab. With a satisfied grunt, he felt the
smooth head of his ruthless cock flick past her womb's neck to slam forcefully into the
deep recesses of her vaginal cavern. As he pinned her momentarily to the soft bed, he
said, "Remember now, baby doll, nobody can ever say you got fucked against your will!
You put it in yourself!"
Wantonly, she thought: So...? Why should she care? It was done! She was being
unfaithful to Greg, had been in reality from the time she had reached for her landlord's
cock to guide it to her suddenly needful, demanding pussy.
There was nothing left now but to surrender herself to the marvelous sensations racing
electrically in her awakened loins, and she undulated her hips in tiny circles under him,
realizing that she could feel every inch of his turgid penile length along the clinging
sheath of her fiery cunt. She might as well enjoy it! Her values had been displaced,
disarranged. God! Could she ever sort herself out... after this?
She heard his voice grating in her ear.
"You want to be fucked now, don't you?" He expanded his insistently pounding cock
deep in her belly, sending out an urgent signal that foretold of impending joy, ecstasy,
rapture... and orgasm. Her body-mind received them and she couldn't believe it was the
Cindy she knew who answered his lewd question.
"Yes..." she responded with abject simplicity.
'Then beg for it, bitch!" His voice carried an edge of commanding triumph in it.
She looked up into his twisted face, leering lewdly down at her, not understanding his
command.
"I want you to do it... to me," she managed.
He was not satisfied. He wanted ultimate humiliation.
"That's not good enough! Beg me to fuck you!"
Just then Amy returned, clutching something to her. "He wants you to use all the dirty
four-letter words," she explained breathlessly. "He gets turned on hearing a woman say
those things!"
"Oh! B-but I can't!"
"You can, if you want to. It's only words like fuck, cock, cunt," Amy told her.
Harold waited. He flexed his cock deep inside her several times more. "How about it,
bitch?" he grated.
Cindy couldn't stand anymore teasing. She choked out the words he wanted to hear,
words that would get her what she wanted. "Oh, God, Harold! Fuck me quick! Fuck me
with that big cock of yours! I need it!" she whined, amazed that she could say them
without stumbling or stammering.
"Where?" he prompted.
"In my cunt! Fuck my cunt with your big cock!" she said clearly, her full churning hips
beginning to buck up against him uncontrollably.
Then, withdrawing almost all the way from her clasping cuntal sheath, leaving only the
bulbous head of his penis up inside, he slammed his throbbing shaft cruelly home,
burying it to the root in her wet accepting womb. Then again and again, his hairy balls
slapped hard up against her wantonly raised buttocks. And thinking only of his own
pleasure, he began to jab into her tender clutching vagina absolutely without mercy. He
was a rutting animal who had been denied until the end of his season.
As the big man stroked into her, Cindy rose to meet him, countering him, absorbing
him. She could feel the filling and fulfilling power of his great cock in her. She needed
it, wanted it, and she tried to match him with her own perverted wildness.
Amy, watching with fascination, her own libido keening for release, toyed with the
object she held in her hand: A vibrating dildo! She could use it on herself of course, and
she was sorely tempted to do so. Or she could join in, make it a threesome by
straddling Cindy's face, enjoying the sensation of cunnilingus while her insatiable
husband fucked away at the young blonde beauty beneath him.
Or – she gloated with the idea – she could try something else. She struggled out of her
dress, tossed it aside, and sat on the bed. Damn! She'd never thought of that! It would
teach her wander-lusting husband a lesson he should have learned about women years
ago.
Shifting herself to a position behind him, she knelt there, watching his flexing buttocks
as he drove his throbbing hardness into Cindy's greedily demanding cunt. She could
see the coral-line lips stretch, absorbing him, the glistening length of his pummeling
cock-shaft thrusting rhythmically in and out of the young wife's masochistically
tortured vagina.
Amy decided to do it. Reaching out, she caressed her husband's slaving buttocks with
cool hands.
"What the hell?" he growled over his shoulder at her.
"I'm just going to help you cum," she cooed back at him, dragging a finger through the
crease of his buttocks to tantalize his anus. "You know you like to have me play with
your backside while we're fucking. Wouldn't you like it now?"
"I don't... know..." he panted. "What do you... have in mind?"
"Putting a finger or two in you. You know it'll really make you pop hard!"
"All right. But go easy," he agreed.
"Don't worry. You'll love it!"
Amy teased at the puckered opening for a moment, then gently wormed in one finger.
He stiffened with a prodigious grunt, then, as his rectum adjusted to it, he continued
his feral pumping into Cindy's heated loins.
"You're right!" he exclaimed. "That feels good."
"I knew you'd like it, honey," Amy said. Carefully, then, she worked two fingers in.
"You want me to try for three?" she asked.
Recklessly, he answered, "Okay, baby, go ahead!"
It was a strange sensation he had not experienced for a long time, one that never failed
to heighten the eroticism of his fevered fucking, and he began redoubling his pounding
efforts. His aching member soared into the young tender cunt beneath him, his cockhead 
expanding, foretelling his impending release. Cindy was in rapture. She had never
known it could be like this, having a man bring her to such heights of sensation. She
loathed the man who was doing it to her, but she loved what he was doing. It was pure
sex – in its rawest state. A flashing thought overjoyed her. Now that she was aroused.
Now that she was aroused and knew what her own sexuality was, she would be able to
satisfy Greg... and herself. Maybe she was on the threshold of a new life, a rejuvenation
of their marriage.
"Oh God, I'm cummmmmmming!" Suddenly the adulterous young wife realized her
tormentor was spraying endless jets of white-hot sperm deep into her receptive belly.
Beneath him, Cindy writhed and bucked, her own orgasm beginning to come in
convulsive spasms, her face contorting in agonized sexual tension and ensuing release.
"AAAaaauuuggghhhhh!" she moaned. "I'm cumming! Fuck me harder! Harder!
Ooooohhhh!"
Amy watched, smiling, as her husband brought the young blonde to soaring climax.
"Beautiful...!" she murmured, feeling a vicarious searing need slash through her own
loins. She pulled her fingers from his anus and Harold slumped forward, relieved,
totally spent.
"You bitch!" he finally gasped. "You practically drained me dry. I thought I'd never stop
cumming!" he said, reaching down to grip his flaccid penis. "... I don't think it will ever
get hard again."
"Quit complaining," Amy scoffed. "You know you'll be all right in half an hour. You
always are!"


Chapter 8

In the bathroom of her brother-in-law's apartment Jean had finished toweling herself
after the long refreshing bath. Slipping into her robe, she entered the bedroom, crossed
to her open suitcase and, after searching for a moment, removed clean underwear and
her make-up bag. Crossing to the bed, she laid them down and slipped off her robe.
Inadvertently, her hand brushed against the make-up bag, knocking it to the floor
where it spilled in disarray, her lipstick-tube rolling out of sight under the bed.
Damn! she muttered under her breath, then quickly knelt and began collecting the
jumbled articles.
Where was the lipstick? she wondered. I didn't pick it up with the other things. Her
eyes moved slowly left to right. Nothing! Maybe it rolled under the bed. Lifting the
floor-length spread, she bent even lower, her face close to the carpet, her breasts
touching it, her shapely naked buttocks spread and raised in lewd enticement.
It was there all right-halfway under the bed. Balancing herself with the palm of her left
hand placed flat against the carpet, she reached for it with her right, stretching her arm
as far as it would go in the narrow space. It was no good – she couldn't reach it.
Backing up a little, she levered her body around until her weight was balanced on her
knees and elbows, then slithered forward, her hips arching up as her torso dipped and
extended, her head, shoulders and arms wedging into the restricted space. With her
chin touching the floor, she shifted slightly, bringing most of her weight onto her left
elbow as her right hand groped for the elusive lipstick. Her fingers touched it, 
graspedand it rolled away.
Damn!
Once again transferring her weight, she eased it off her elbow and onto her chest,
making it possible to scoot another three, perhaps four inches forward. With her hips
guiding her actions, she inched forward on her naked, flatly mashed breasts until she
felt the small of her back wedge against the edge of the bed frame. She could go no
farther, unless she began all over again and slithered back under on her belly.
Carefully then, for now she could see not at all, she began searching blindly with her
fingers, inching them along the bristly carpet, right arm fully extended, moving slowly
in an arc from right to left. Her fingers touched something cold and again it rolled
away.
Careful, now, she thought, easy does it. Slowly, ever so slowly, her fingers crept over
the carpet, her senses attuned for the slightest contact with that tube of cold metal.
Suddenly, like a snapping whip, her head banged up against the bedsprings and her
torso shot forward, wedging her helplessly between bed and carpet.
She had experienced a cold touch all right, but not with her fingers – with her naked,
lewdly displayed buttocks!
Something cold was nuzzling between her helplessly spread thighs!
She was hopelessly trapped, wedged between floor and bed, and her brother-in-law's
dog was sniffing between the cleft of her upthrust buttocks, his cold wet nose rooting
obscenely there!
Oh, God! What can I do? she wondered wildly. After the performance she had
witnessed last night, there was no doubt in her mind what he wanted. Perhaps if she
remained motionless, he would become bored and go away.
So, teeth gritting, she did her best to remain still, but every touch of the dog's nose sent
a fresh shiver of fright racing along her spine. She couldn't cry out... how could she
explain this to Amy or Harold? She'd never be able to look them in the face again if
they saw her like this.
She shivered anew as the dog's moistly quivering tongue suddenly lashed out, licking
the sensitive folds of her helplessly proffered vagina. Her whole body tensed and she
wiggled her buttocks, but he wouldn't budge. She tried again and in response he
growled, softly but menacingly.
She was hopelessly trapped! There was nothing to do but remain still and wait for the
frightening beast to go away!
Again his tongue licked over her puckered anal crevice, coursing down over the fleshy
ridges of her quivering pussy, along the deep furrow of her buttocks and up again past
the taut, brown-ringed hole of her rectum. She trembled in abject terror as the animal
licked her crotch from one end to the other... and he showed no signs of quitting.
Like the lashing tongue of a lizard, King's rough dog-tongue licked again and again at
the moist warm juiciness of the trapped woman's vaginal cleft, and she found herself
quaking from his savage contact – not from fear but from something she suddenly
couldn't control, a strange sort of primitive excitement that emanated from deep within
her naked defenseless cunt.
What's happening to me!? What's going on inside my body?! What is it!?
King's bristly tongue raced over her clitoris faster and faster as the huge dog lapped at
the tangy tasty wetness of her narrow slit. Jean's belly was knotted to the breaking point
and she strained to hold back a tortured, relief-giving scream.
I can't stand anymore! I can't stand it!
Hungrily King's lapping tongue snaked deep between the soft pliable lips of her moistly
cringing pussy, the rough tip brushing over her pulsing clitoris again and again, each
time sending a convulsive shiver racing along her tightly clenched cuntal furrow.
His hot probing tongue wormed up into the warmly trembling entrance to the mouth
of her vaginal channel, lapping at the warm wetness deep inside her grasping pussywalls. 
Her body was shivering out of control... she didn't know how much more of this
she could take before he licked her to obscene orgasm. Then suddenly she knew... none.
"Oh, no! Oh, no!... Ooooohhhhh...!"
She clenched her teeth to muffle her deep throaty moan, then lay there, heaving
convulsively in the dying throes of her sudden overpowering climax.
After a moment the huge dog left and painfully Jean backed out from under the bed.
"My, my. Aren't you a lovely one," breathed a woman's voice as Jean struggled shakily
to her feet, "and so appreciative of our darling King's talents." She chuckled.
The young blonde spun around to face the open doorway and her amused sister-in-law,
whose stinging words prompted Jean to gasp a denial, but before the thoughts could be
put into words, her climax-weakened knees betrayed her and she struggled awkwardly
to prevent herself from falling, instead bumping the bed and flopping backward onto it.
"Are you hurt?" asked the svelte older woman, hurrying across the room.
Jean blinked, looking up into the face of the woman whose eyes now registered what
appeared to be genuine concern. "No... I don't think so," she gasped breathlessly.
The older woman's hand touched her brow, brushing the disheveled blonde hair back
from her eyes. "Sure?" she asked concernedly.
"Sure," Jean answered.
The light touch of the older woman's fingers moved away from her forehead – moved
to trace along the line of her cheek and then down along her throat and onto the bold
line formed by her full heaving breasts...
"N-No... please... don't..." Jean choked out. She couldn't believe what was happening to
her.
Then Amy was on the bed with her, lying down beside her. Jean turned, trying to
slither to the other side of the bed to escape. She couldn't... she just couldn't let this
happen to her!
Female arms captured her, held her, and a hand was running shiveringly down her back
to her waist, continuing on down over her ripely contoured hips and buttocks. Amy's
throaty voice was in her ear. "Don't fight it... Jean... I'll make it good for you!"
"But, I-I don't want to be... like this."
The older woman's hand soothed her. And wondrously the gentleness of the knowing
caress somehow felt good, so restful, tingly, nice. There was no animalistic pawing and
kneading. All she felt was the electric-like contact of Amy's stroking fingers and the
curling of the woman's body tight against hers, her brassiere-encased breasts pressing
into her naked back, the warmth of her belly in close contact, all the way down to
where her heated pussy-mound pressed in against the smooth rounded firmness of her
buttocks. Then, a tiny, well manicured hand worked its way over her rib cage until it
clasped a full satiny breast with gentle knowledge, working at the coral-hued nipple,
causing it to rise hard and sensate.
There was now in Jean that same burning desire she had brought to herself as she stood
in the bathroom watching the perverse scene last night, and she was fully aware of what
was happening to her. It felt too good – but her reasoning mind could not allow it to
happen!
Her cry was muffled, strangling in her throat as she attempted once again to rise, to
leave that bed. She just couldn't stay there! "No... I can't do it... I can't let this...
happen..."
"Hush, darling," Amy whispered hoarsely in her ear. "Let me show you what you've
been missing!"
The older, more experienced brunette turned the young blonde wife to face her,
clamping her own lithe body to Jean's, her full generous breasts mashed tight to the
younger girl's naked sensitive mounds, her salacious mouth seeking and finding the
make-up free mouth, pressing against her lips in a passionate kiss, her tongue sliding
out, slowly, gradually, to twirl in sensuous circles, rimming her lips with sensation –
producing lubricity, without undue demand. Meanwhile her hands busily tantalized
Jean's luscious body, playing over her perfectly sculpted contours like a swarm of
hungry insects to transmit her own fiery need, causing uncontrollable slashing urges to
sear deeply through the blonde's already aroused loins.
Jean had never received such a kiss from a woman before, and at first contact, she had
felt revulsion and loathing. But after several pounding heart-beats she responded. She
began to feel a certain thrill of her own, generated by the femaleness of the other
woman's body. Tentatively, she put forth a timid hand and felt a bare shoulder. She had
not been aware of it before. Sometime during those first searing caresses Amy had
removed her dress and was now reaching down to unhook the clasps of her brassiere,
releasing the full abundance of her velvety smooth, shapely breasts.
"Here, honey, feel this," Amy crooned.
Hesitant, but unable to resist, Jean reached out to touch and fondle the other woman's
passionately heaving breasts, watching spellbound as the nipples coned to pert erection.
She felt a shudder pass through Amy's body and she realized that her handling of her
sister-in-law's breasts had been the cause of it. A weak sigh keened through the older
woman and Jean realized she, too, felt exactly the same thing... in the same way.
With a trembling moan, Jean sought Amy's mouth. Their lips welded together, tongues
moving in and out hungrily as hands were busy on each other's naked bodies – Amy's
with sure knowledge of experience, Jean experimenting, exploring here and there as the
fires in her continuously aroused loins raged higher and higher.
The beautiful young blonde moaned with a complete helplessness, groaning in utter
despair as she tried once more to fight against her feral depraved cravings with rational
thought. She broke the moist contact of their mouths, pulling away and muttering
across the short intervening distance, trying not to look into the smoldering eyes of the
other woman.
"I've never cheated on... Bob," she gasped hesitantly.
"What...?" Amy's tinkling laugh filled the room. "You call this cheating on him?"
"Well, yes."
"It's not the same, darling! This is girl-girl love!" she exclaimed. "But do you think he's
thinking about cheating or not cheating when he shoves it into another woman?"
Jean didn't know, and she wasn't sure whether or not Bob had been untrue to her. "I-I
don't know," she admitted. "But, it's the principle..."
"To hell with principle," Amy exclaimed. "This is woman love. There's a difference!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean because I'm that way!" the brunette smiled archly. "I'M A.C.-D.C. I swing
either way whenever I can get it!"
"What do you mean?"
"I make it with men... and women!"
"Oh!"
Suddenly Amy sat up and quickly stripped herself of her remaining clothing. "There,
that's better!"
Almost savagely then, the brunette turned to recapture Jean's mouth, her naked upper
leg moving in between the blonde's white tapering thighs, spreading them until their
legs intertwined and their loins met and mingled, the two contrasting colors nestling
close, the almost black pussy "vee" grinding in against the blonde one with animalistic
abandon.
Reaching over boldly, Amy pulled the rounded fullness of Jean's quivering white
buttocks in tight. Her hand moved down between them to the golden pussy-cleft, and
without hesitation she dipped a finger into the moist aroused opening. She found it
amply lubricated, telltale evidence of the younger woman's arousal. Then the finger
moved on to find the erect unhooded clitoris. It was hard, throbbing and taut, and Amy
began to stroke it ever so gently, stoking the fires of Jean's passion to white-hot heat.
Jean felt her sister-in-law begin to move, slithering down her body, rolling her gently to
her back, her mouth busy as she kissed her passionately throbbing breasts then began
to suck them, moving the nipples in and out of her mouth quickly, while she
maintained a constant exciting sucking pressure. The highly erotic sensations keened
through the younger woman, flashing through her with merciless insistence. Against
her will, helpless to control them, the blonde's hips began to move in a steady
countering rhythm to the sinuous stroking finger... and she knew she was lost, that she
had succumbed... just as she had surrendered to Bill Martin, to King and to her own
stroking hand last night.
"Oh... God!" she shuddered helplessly.
Now she felt those avid woman's lips moving down, down, over her ribs, down across
her flat belly, the agile tongue dipping into her navel, tantalizingly... and then the
gentle insistent hands spreading her thighs, exposing her palpitatingly needful cunt to
the other woman's lewd gaze. She was acutely aware that Amy's face was peering
between her widespread thighs and that those knowing hands were moving on the
smooth, softly velvet flesh of her defenseless pussy.
Then that mouth was kissing her thighs, her hips, her abdomen, the inner sides of her
thighs, gradually working up to her heatedly pulsating cunt. It drove Jean wild with
feverish anticipation. She knew now it would happen, and she was powerless to stop it.
And just before Amy's mouth reached that seat of eternal fire, a disquieting thought
charged through Jean's mind: Somehow, she knew in that instant, she would be
changed, transformed... that the act she now wanted, even though she knew in her
rational mind that it was wrong, would be a turning point in her life. In the
consummation of that act, she would become the kind of woman Amy was. A woman
preying on men... and women. A woman of insatiable dimensions...
Then it was there! Amy's probing, licking, tantalizing tongue was there... on her clitoris,
sending the most wonderfully erotic sensations to her brain, and Jean knew that there
was never in this world – or the next, either – a more rapturously voluptuous ecstasy.
But again that indoctrinated brain, loaded with its moralizing, its taboos and its fears,
interfered. "No! Please... no! Oh, God!" she cried out.
The working mouth paused. But she didn't want it to stop. Words came to her as from
a distance. She heard, but did not hear, as her senses reeled. It was Amy's voice from
down there, between her legs. "Relax, Jean. Enjoy! Enjoy!"
"I can't. I can't let you!" she whined. "It's wrong! Unnatural!"
"But you like it!" Amy countered, speaking absolute truth. And again she dropped her
mouth to the seething moist flesh of the younger woman's pulsing cunt, her tongue
probing this time into the heated liquid depths, searing into the clutching cuntal
opening, moving in then out to the rhythm already set by Jean's spasmodically grinding
hips. The swooping tongue flicked in and out with the measured regularity of a tiny
cock.
Jean could stand it no longer. She had to have it. If she didn't cum, she'd go mad.
Throwing all reason to the winds, conscious only of the electric-like sensations that
arced in her naked upturned loins, she cried out depravedly, "Oh... yesss! Oh, God...
yessssssss!"
The lustfully lapping mouth paused. "What do you want, honey? Do you want me to
keep this up until you cum?" Amy asked her.
"Yeeessssssss!"
"I've got a better idea, honey. We'll cum together!"
"How? Tell me how?" Jean was getting desperate.
"Have you ever eaten a woman's cunt before?"
"No... never!"
"Well, now's the time! You just do to me what I've been doing to you. That's all there
is to it!"
Swiftly, lithely, Amy shifted her position, swinging herself around to straddle Jean's
face, her own head falling into place naturally over the tender loins of the young,
golden-haired beauty she was seducing.
Startled, Jean looked up and saw the moist warmth of Amy's hair-lined cunt hovering
scant inches above her face, the brown puckered ring of her tiny anus winking down at
her. She knew what she must do, what she had to do! But her whole being rejected it!
Oh, God! How did I ever get myself into this?
With a swivel-hipped, wanton wriggle, Amy's vibrant pussy came writhing down
against Jean's face.
Jean's first impulse was to scream; she felt suffocated... trapped, but the contact of the
experienced woman's tongue with the quivering bud of her own clitoris elicited a long
moan of sexual surrender from deep in her chest. She gasped, her mouth gaped open,
and instinctively her face nuzzled up into the moist female furrow above her.
Unthinking, her tongue slithered out, probing experimentally, and found the tiny shaft
in its fold of hair-rimmed, blood-engorged flesh.
To her surprise, the slightly pungent flavor of the woman's pussy was not at all
distasteful, and she quickly became more bold, more dexterous, licking, then sucking,
following the example Amy had given her. Occasionally, she stabbed her quivering
tongue directly up into the wetly clutching vaginal opening. Finally she established a
lewd rhythmic movement to match Amy's licking and sucking of her own cunt.
Together then they began to spiral, mounting higher and higher toward the heights of
soaring orgasmic release, tongues licking and slashing in and out of throbbing cunts,
hands grasping, mouths gasping out little mewls and groans of mutual lesbian ecstasy.
Thus intertwined, head to loins, mutually giving and receiving exquisitely erotic
sensations, the two women came to the apogee of sexual climax.
It began for Jean first – a long shuddering convulsion of her body causing her to jerk
spasmodically upward with wave after surging wave of welcome orgasm spreading
throughout her fire-possessed body. It was a symphonic rhapsody, of sensations that
swept over her, through her, leaving her satiated, spent. Little did she recognize that it
had been her own voice moaning "AAAaaauuuggghhh! Oh, God! I'mmmmm
cuuummmiiinnnggggg!"
Meanwhile, above her, Amy continued to thrust her loins down into the younger
woman's face with wild abandon. Then she, too, arrived at that exquisite moment of
rapture. "Oh! Oh! OOoohh! I'm cumming! It's almost here! AAAAaaauuuggghhhhhh!"
"Oh, that was heavenly. Super!" Amy gasped.
Jean could only moan in half-conscious agreement. She could only crawl around on the
bed and offer her lips to the other woman again, clinging to her, confused but sexually
satisfied.
It was strange but true and, for the moment, she didn't question it.
But her ideas of sexual satisfaction, as it turned out, were nothing compared to the
greed – that was the only word for it, she decided – of Amy.
After a very few moments, the brunette had got up from the bed, delved into a bureau
drawer and returned with a vibrator, which she plugged into a convenient electrical
outlet. The device itself she strapped to the back of her hand, then, smiling down at
Jean, she said, "And, now for a taste of something different. I'm going to give you a
massage!"
"MMmnn, that'll feel nice," Jean murmured languidly.
"Nicer than you think, darling!" There was a certain lewdness in Amy's smile that Jean
didn't catch.
It was not until the vibrating hand began to move exhilaratingly over her abdomen that
Jean began to have the faintest inkling of how the vibrator worked, of the effect it
would have on her. She wanted to object, but then it was teasing at her recently sated
cunt, the oscillating vibrations transmitting renewed sensations of pleasure through her
belly as Amy expertly manipulated her instantly hard clitoris.
"Oh, my God! My Goddddddd!" Jean moaned as she came to another soaring climax
within a few short moments. She felt completely helpless to stop the action... or her
reaction. It was marvelous, and she spiraled and soared to another orgasm, and another,
and still another!
After a brief pause it was Jean's turn to do the honors, and she watched in amazement
as the brunette writhed in sexual agony, until she, too, came and came and came,
mouthing obscenities as she climaxed almost endlessly.
But Amy wasn't through yet. Her greediness for more and more sexual pleasure led her,
after they had relaxed for a few minutes, to show Jean yet another device guaranteed to
produce sexual joy. It was a realistic replica of a man's erect cock, a huge plastic
phallus.
Jean looked at it with wide-eyed awe. "It's so big. So mean-looking! And so real!"
"This will give you more of a charge than any man's cock ever will!" Amy boasted.
And from the doorway came a booming retort
"Like hell it will!!!"


Chapter 9

Jean's eyes went wide in mesmerized disbelief at the sight of her brother-in-law and his
dog standing in the doorway. And any thoughts she had in the way of explanation were
quickly dispelled as his hands went to his belt, then his zipper, and his pants dropped
with an alarming thud.
The shocked blonde watched hypnotized as his penis came into view, its dangling
length already throbbing into lewd pulsating life. She knew she should scream and put
an end to this filthy perverted madness, but she couldn't... her eyes were glued to an
incredible spectacle: the swelling serpentine growth of that awesomely rising cock.
Woodenly, she watched him slowly pump it into lustful erection, its fat bulbous head
throbbing with a life that knew but one death, its length so dilated that, beyond the two
beefy hands encircling it, one behind the other, there still appeared from one end the
unencumbered throbbing knob and at the other at least two inches of thick stalk that
merged into an overgrown forest of curly black hair.
Grinning lewdly then, Harold began to advance toward the bed, still holding himself
two-handed, his eyes feasting on the pruriently displayed body of his horror-struck
sister-in-law. At the bed he stopped, gave his wife one quick scorching glance, grasped
the forgotten lifeless dildo from her limp hand, placed it beside his own burgeoning
length and, relocking his eyes on Jean's, smiled victoriously.
Not one word had been spoken since his boastful claim, and now there seemed no
need. Harold was clearly in command of all their destinies. The boast had been made,
the instrument of proof had been graphically introduced – now all that remained was
the verdict. And there would be no hung jury, for the prosecutor was impatient.
"Bend over," he spat viciously at Amy.
When she stood there, not moving, not speaking, her eyes wide, not understanding, the
hand holding his burgeoning length unclasped, rose swiftly and smacked backhanded
across her cheek. "Bend over!" he repeated, his tone cold, deadly.
She did.
And Jean gasped audibly.
With the speed of a striking cobra, Harold's other hand jabbed out and up, his aim
perfect as he rammed the plastic phallus between his wife's thighs.
She groaned painfully as the force of his thrust toppled her face forward and writhing
onto the bed, some four or five inches of the huge dildo buried painfully in her
surprised cunt. Immediately both her hands snaked out from under her body and out
and around her full wriggling buttocks, clutching desperately in an attempt to remove
the source of her anguish, her actions curiously like one trying futilely to grasp the hilt
of a knife embedded out of reach in their back.
And futile were her attempts, for Harold stepped forward, placed one hand on the small
of her back, pinning her, and with the palm of the other crammed the remaining length
of the dildo right up into her cringing vagina.
Amy moaned, nearly lost consciousness, then felt the dildo vibrate into life.
Harold gloated lewdly. "There, you fucking slut! You're always hollering about how
great your little toys are. How does that feel?"
"Turn it off!" she gasped.
"No!" he spat. "You made your bed, now lie in it!"
"P-l-e-a-s-e..." she begged.
Jean turned away, embarrassed and afraid. Emotionally, she was suffering with the older
woman, but deep down inside her there was another feeling, a growing sensation
between her own tightly closed thighs that she could not – did not – want to name.
She was humiliated that something so obscene and degrading could affect her this way.
And she was afraid of her reaction, too.
Then suddenly her eyes opened wide with terror, a terror so real that she was sure a
thousand tiny rats' feet were scurrying over her naked body. But it was only Harold's
hand slowly inching along her leg, and she was powerless to resist. Her mind cried out.
No! No! Stop! but her body seemed unable to answer.
Harold's creeping fingers reached her pubic mound and she felt a shiver of... of fright,
intermixed with excitement, engulfing her like a cool breeze.
"No, Harold, please," she whispered. But Harold had gone too far to be turned away
now. He could feel the soft resilient pubic hairs only inches from that sweet young
pussy of hers and nothing would stop him now!
She gasped aloud as his fingers slipped forcefully into the cleft of her tightly clenched
thighs, then made convulsive contact with the tender softness of her moistly warm and
inviting pussy-slit. Wasting no time, his rigid middle finger quickly parted the soft
golden pubic curls, sought out its mark and plunged abruptly up into the taut fleshy
sheath of her helplessly cringing vagina. Reflexively, Jean tried clamping her naked
thighs together, but the time for such action had long passed.
"No, please..." she murmured as mindlessly her legs relaxed without hesitation.
Immediately, Harold's hand rammed between her legs, opening them like a steel wedge.
There was nothing stopping him and his whole hand suddenly fastened over the moist
tenderness of her soft fleshy cuntal folds, his middle finger probing inquisitively far up
into her wet warm belly, his lips suddenly lowering to her nakedly vulnerable thighs.
Again she was caught totally by surprise and that had been just what Harold was
counting on.
Spreading the ivory smoothness forcefully wider, he began to kiss his way up to the soft
golden triangle at the base of her squirming belly, nibbling tenderly at the sensitive
smoothness of her inner thighs, each gentle nip sending a fresh chill through her
confused, tormented body.
She opened her eyes just enough to catch a fleeting glimpse of Amy, her naked buttocks
now pistoning savagely up and down on the impaling dildo held between her hotly
engulfing vaginal lips by her own hands!
Jean blinked, then blinked again. Harold was towering over her quivering body like a
giant, holding his menacing cock-shaft between his two hands, looking down at her
with an evil grin.
"You like that, doll?" he said, leaning nearer. "I'll bet that kid brother of mine never
creamed you with anything like that?" he said, continuing to torment the horrified
young wife, relishing the contorted mask of fear that crossed over her face as her eyes
focused on the immense swollen cock above her face.
Jean tried to speak but couldn't. The words seemed to catch in her throat and she
couldn't take her eyes away from that hard fleshy instrument for a second. It pained her
to admit it, even to herself, but Harold was right. Bob's penis was large, but nothing
like this.
But God, it's so big! I can't take that thing inside me!
"Please, don't... Harold, please," she whimpered.
Jean couldn't move, paralyzed with the fear of what he intended to do. He was going to
ravish her – his own brother's wife. And there was nothing she could do to stop him.
There was nothing left. She lay naked before him like an excited young Venus as he
dropped again to his knees, panting like a starved animal before her.
So complete was her terror that she was only dimly aware of Harold's obscenely
groping lips kissing the flat plane of her belly, then nibbling their way down the soft
slope to the warmth between her nakedly splayed thighs.
He knelt before her like the savage he was, licking his lips lewdly in anticipation of the
orgiastic feast to come as the velvety pink folds of her vagina were presented to him like
a gourmet dinner.
With his hands flat between her quivering thighs, Harold spread the soft fleshy flanges
of her vulnerable cuntal cleft with his thumbs, slowly, torturously, drawing the puffy
fluted lips apart to expose the moist coralline slit to his cruel gaze. He watched it
greedily for a moment, then with an animal-like groan, buried his head between her
thighs and began probing his swirling tongue up into the spasmodically throbbing
warmth of her violated pussy.
A long low, soulful moan escaped the blonde's lips as her buttocks ground hungrily
down into the bed in a hopeless attempt to escape this maddening assault on her
defenselessly invaded cunt.
"Oh, God. Noooooo!" she whimpered erotically, unable to keep her eyes off her
brother-in-law's lust-crazed attack.
In answer, he licked frantically at her moist pussy-slit, his tongue searching and finding
her erect clitoris, then fastening tightly around the tiny, turgidly throbbing knob. Jean
squirmed helplessly as he savagely assaulted her loins, sucking and nibbling on the little
pulsing node, rolling it sensitively between his teeth, feeling her body quiver hungrily
beneath his touch.
Desperately she tried to fight it, but once again her body had betrayed her – her
quivering cuntal flesh screamed for fulfillment. Ripple after ripple of shivering pleasure
surged through her obscenely defiled body, and knowledgably, Harold stepped up the
pace, his darting tongue sluicing into the puffy pink folds, then snaking past them to
tease into the moist depths of her warmly throbbing vaginal sheath, flicking hungrily,
swirling maddeningly as he scoured the walls of her tender young pussy.
Oh, God, why did I ever come here... why didn't I stay home where I belonged and
wait for Bob!
Harold could see that she was nearly his. A few seconds more and he'd be able to do
anything he wanted to this enticing little bitch. She was about to become his slave – she
would do anything to satisfy him. And, oh, how he wanted to burrow his stiffly aching
cock up between these sweet innocent pussy-lips of hers! How he wanted to shove his
urgently throbbing penis right up into her delectable belly! She was going to beg him
for it any minute now... and, by God, he was going to give it to her like she'd never had
it before!
Pushing her legs up and back, he wormed his tongue out of her fervently clutching
pussy and down into the narrow valley of her buttocks until she found the tightpuckered 
ring of her anus. Then, poking his tongue against the taut little opening with
a lizard-like movement, he flicked the tip right into her forbidden nether depths.
This unexpected attack brought a moan of tortured anguish from Jean's parted lips, her
eyes clenching tightly shut, her teeth bared slightly as the new agonizing sensation
rippled incitingly through her nakedly quivering body.
"Oooooooh, God, no! Please? Not there!" As she squirmed desperately to escape the hot
flicking tongue probing without mercy at her anus, Harold's reply was a coarse evil
chuckle, then yet another searing stab into the tight rectal ring.
Jean sobbed helplessly before this new attack, but gradually, in spite of a gnawing
shame and humiliation, she felt her body continue to disobey her mind. She had lost all
control! Her firm undulating buttocks began to jerk back against Harold's probing
tongue involuntarily as spasms of helpless ecstasy rippled through her raw vulnerable
nerve endings.
She knew she could stand it no longer – there was no use. Her rational mind had lost
– she was being controlled by a traitorous insatiable demon of lust. She was totally his!
Her shamelessly aroused body was jerking spasmodically, her gyrating hips grinding
uncontrollably with slow abandoned need up against his thrusting tongue. There was
no hope left for her, and she reached down and gripped his hair with her fingers and
with a low, soul-stirring moan from deep in her chest, pulled his lips tight against her
naked needing loins. Forgotten were all thoughts of Amy and her vibrating dildo,
forgotten were all thoughts of Bob halfway around the world in a foreign land,
forgotten was all the humiliation... all the degradation. All that mattered now were
those incredibly delicious waves of pleasure coursing through her like fiery needles,
piercing her tortured, incredibly aroused young cunt.
Harold sensed her unconditional surrender and, with a vicious smirk, thrust his tongue
even deeper into the quivering warmth of her heatedly clasping vaginal sheath. The
silky-soft pubic hairs brushed sensuously against his forehead as he burrowed between
her smooth yielding thighs, her buttocks grinding with slow erotic rhythm up into his
lewdly buried face.
She was his now – there was no question about it and excitedly he watched her squirm
her fiery little pussy into his face. It wouldn't be long now before he rammed his aching
hardness into that tight little belly of hers, emptying his load of burning sperm into the
farthest recesses of her impaled womb. She was just another hot little cunt begging to
be fucked by a cock, and he had just the cock for her – one with life, not one of those
toys his wife played with.
Well, he grinned, this is one time Amy got her wish, and now he was going to make
her beg for him by showing her what he could do to Jean. Before he was through they
were both going to be begging for more... and more...
Meanwhile, Jean continued to squirm and buck under the maddening torture of
Harold's flicking tongue, her arousal so great it seemed her pounding heart was about
to burst right through her chest. Her head rose from the bed and, looking down
between her obscenely raised thighs, she watched his contorted face, her hands locking
tightly behind his head as she pulled his lashing, pleasure-giving tongue deeper and
deeper up into her hungry cunt, it seemed as though this delicious sucking of her
quivering vagina would go on endlessly, but suddenly Harold pulled his head from her
restraining grip and rose to his knees between her lasciviously opened thighs.
Closing her eyes tightly, she shut out the humiliation of having him stare down at her
exposed nakedness, forcing from her mind her total defenselessness.
"Now, we're gonna do the real thing, baby," he hissed lewdly.
Thighs open wide, full white breasts heaving as she fought for breath, Jean didn't speak,
couldn't speak, as her belly quivered with the memory of her brother-in-law's cleverly
fucking tongue. The sensation was so great she imagined she could already feel his hard
swelling cock deep inside her.
"Spread those legs wide, doll... I'm coming in!"
Quivering with a strange mixture of fear and anticipation, Jean opened her thighs as
wide as they would go. She looked around the room for Amy, but she couldn't see her.
But it no longer mattered... this was all that counted. Her moist heated vaginal lips
seemed to quiver with insatiable hunger, puckering eagerly as she awaited that thick
cock to spread them wide with delicious searing pain.
Leaning over his lovely blonde sister-in-law, Harold rested one hand on the bed behind
her head and with the other brought his throbbing hardness up between her receptively
parted thighs. Using his swollen, blood-filled cock-head to part her fleshy cuntal folds,
he inched his loins forward until the tip of his pulsating member was pressed against
her moist ready vaginal opening. Jean turned her head to one side, closing her eyes with
a shuddering chill as she felt the immensely insistent organ make warm wet contact
with the lust-inflamed edges of her damply clasping pussy. Holding her breath for what
seemed an eternity, she lay perfectly still, waiting impatiently for the agonizing
pleasure-pain of his entry. But she was not prepared for what happened!
"Oooooooh, Godddddd!!!" she gasped as she felt the pressure against the tight fleshy
sheath increase, slowly parting and spreading her resilient elastic vaginal lips.
"Oh, God... Aaaaaggghhhhh," Jean cried as the tip slipped through, painfully stretching
the tight rubbery opening until she felt as though her thighs were splitting apart from
the relentless oncoming pressure.
Harold held back torturously, an evil leering grin spread across his face as he looked
down at his brother's helpless, innocent young wife sprawled so salaciously beneath
him. God, it was more than he could stand. He had to fuck her... had to fuck her
NOW!!!
Falling forward, he heard their naked bodies smack together with a slap, her soft full
breasts smashed beneath his weight as he thrust his hips forward, his enormous
hardened penile length tearing into her heatedly cringing cunt with all the force of a
loaded truck, pushing the tender pliable walls in rippling waves before it. There was no
stopping it until his balls slapped heavily into the upturned crevice of her wriggling
buttocks and his pelvis ground tight against her nakedly vulnerable loins.
"AAAAAGGGHHHHH!!!" she mewled weakly beneath him. Never before had she felt
such pain, been so completely filled.
He lay still for a moment, his face looming over hers. Neither made a sound for a long
while and then Jean felt the unmistakable throb of his turgidly swelling cock buried
deep in her belly. It jerked up another half-inch as Harold flexed it cruelly inside her.
"Ooooooowww... you're hurting me!" she gasped breathlessly, her face contorting with
a deeper, sharper pain.
"I told you I'd stretch that tight little pussy of yours wife, baby doll," he sneered above
her, flexing again.
"Aaaaaggghhhhh," she groaned deeper this time, the veins in her neck standing out in
bold relief from the agonizing pressure of her resistance.
"Like it, baby?" he grinned.
She didn't answer.
He gave a quick prompting lunge with his hips, burying his swollen organ a little
farther in her tightly clasping vaginal sheath.
"Oooooooo, yes... yes," she gasped, terrified to say anything to offend him.
"Beg me, then," he hissed between clenched teeth.
Jean squirmed from the searing pain. "No... I can't." She knew she must escape this
final humiliation – if she didn't, there was nothing left – no self-respect, no pride, no
fidelity left for her or for Bob. She couldn't let Bob's brother have the lewd satisfaction
of hearing her beg for it like some street slut.
He throbbed again, deeper, and she gritted her teeth to stifle the pain.
"Beg me, bitch! Beg me!"
"Ooooooooh, yes," she sobbed, her resistance broken as the searing pain threatened to
engulf her mindlessly. "Do it to me... do it to me.' "Not like that," he growled. "Say
fuck me!"
"Oh, fuck me! Fuck me!" she sobbed. Her humiliation and degradation were now
complete. She would never be the same again. She had allowed herself to lose control,
to surrender everything she thought was right to this man... her husband's brother!
But suddenly Jean's body began to react involuntarily. There was no longer any reason
to hold back, to fight the lewd ravages of passion coursing through her veins. She had
lost the battle and nothing could save her now.
She. felt the searing flames of desire blow ever hotter as Harold began to skewer
mercilessly up into her, slithering his pulsating hardness into her hungrily nibbling
vagina in a slow erotic rhythm that rapidly engulfed her entire being.
Her legs suddenly snaked out and locked around him as he stepped up the deep
plundering thrusts, burrowing his urgently pummeling hardness to the hilt in her
trembling wet cunt.
Slaving over the responding blonde, Harold suddenly moved into a longer, smoother
stroke that brought his cock almost all the way out of her hotly clasping vaginal sheath
on the backstroke, then soared forward on the instroke, thrusting agonizingly up into
her uplifted pussy until he could hear the loud wet slap of his balls against the
unprotected crevice of her anus.
Reaching down around her smooth undulating ass-cheeks, he began fondling the visibly
pulsing flanges of her impaled cunt, bringing to her lips wild moans of abandoned
passion as her vagina flowered open with a greedy desire to suck in all his massive
throbbing hardness.
In response, Harold began quickening his thrusts, plowing hot and deep into her
squirming, thrashing loins. Her nails dug sharply, painfully into his back as soft, 
soulstirring moans tumbled from her half-parted lips.
He knew she was almost there and he clenched his buttocks tightly together in a
determined effort to hold back the seething flood of sperm boiling in his scrotum while
her gasping moan became one continuous suppliant cry, one long mournful plea for
fulfillment.
"Oh, God, I'm going to cum. I'm going to cum!" she hissed, thrashing wildly now, her
legs flaying in every direction, her hips grinding up savagely, greedily meeting each
deep cock-plunge. "Don't stop! Don't stop!"
So he did.


Chapter 10

In fact – he did more than stop; he pulled completely out of her! One long sucking
stroke backward and he was out.
"Oh, no! Not now! Just a little more! I'm almost there!"
Harold grinned lewdly.
"P-l-e-a-s-e!" the wantonly frustrated blonde pleaded. "P-L-E-A-S-E!" she begged.
He continued to grin.
"What is it? What do you want NOW?" she asked tearfully.
Her brother-in-law's grin slowly melted away, his eyes twinkling, seeming to grow a
shade darker – a shade colder. "Now... cunt," he said slowly, emphatically, "you're
going to show a little respect for a real cock. No more of that bull-shit Amy's been
feeding you." He grinned down at her wickedly. "Are you interested?"
Anything, she thought. Ill do anything, but please, dear God, let him put out my fire.
"Yes," she answered simply.
"Good," he said, then immediately slipped his glistening, aching hardness back into her
enveloping warm cuntal flesh.
As one, they sighed with sensation and immediately Jean began to undulate fitfully up
into him, feverishly trying to reestablish the rhythm that would bring her to compulsive
soaring release.
"No!" he spat savagely, pressing one hand against her flat belly, pinning her. "Not until
you've shown a little appreciation for a male cock."
Jean writhed demandingly. "Please," she pleaded, "what is it? Tell me. I can't stand
this!"
Harold's eyes twinkled mischievously, his free arm swinging in a long sweeping arcpointing.
Jean's eyes followed his movement, then stopped, suddenly very wide, very shocked
with understanding.
Motionless, alert and obediently rooted to the spot where he had been told to stay stood
King!
Harold's outstretched fingers snapped once, commandingly, and the German shepherd
crossed the room dutifully, bounded gracefully onto the bed and stretched out, head
raised in anticipatory acknowledgment.
Harold patted him affectionately. "Good boy, King. Ready for your reward?"
King snarled softly.
Harold grinned.
And Jean's frightened eyes flicked back and forth between master and servant.
And from behind her came a muffled gasp.
Jean's head pivoted and her eyes perceived the figure of her sister-in-law, Amy, sitting
naked in a chair, legs spread wide over its sides with just a trace of the telltale vibrating
dildo peeking out from her lewdly exposed vagina. "No, Harold, not that," she gasped.
Jean's mind was a swirling confusion of uncertainty and lust. What did Harold plan to
do to her? And more importantly, when did he plan to do it? She was on fire with need.
He had promised to quench it. How could he possibly degrade her anymore than he
already had? Damn it, she had to have release! Now!
"Roll over, King,"' Harold suddenly commanded.
Once again, Jean looked questioningly from Harold to King and back. She followed the
man's gaze, saw the pink furry skin of the dog's belly lying exposed to her and, with it,
the long sheath of his animal-cock and its accompanying twin, furry black sacs. She
took it all in, slowly realizing what Harold had dreamed up for her.
She started to turn around to confront him, but his hand grasped her head, forcing it to
remain there. "You don't want to be making any sudden moves now, cunt. King might
get mad and take a hunk out of you. And we wouldn't want that, would we?" he
sneered. "You just give him a good blow job and don't make any quick moves unless..."
"My God! Harold! Have you lost your mind! I can't do that! Not to a dog! Dear God
no! I can't... I can't do that!"
He only laughed. She was in utter torment and he reveled in it. "You fuckin' slut! What
makes you think you're too good to suck my friend here? He's more of a man than
Amy's fucking toys! Why, you're not even worthy to suck him! You should feel
honored that he'll even let you put those lips of yours on his prick. You'd better
reconsider, slut, or I'll change your mind for you!"
Jean's mind spun crazily at the prospect of the awful thing this depraved man was
demanding of her. She knew she had no choice. But to do that to a dog! Could she
make herself do it...?
"Make up your mind, cunt! What's it gonna be?" he roared.
Her hand shaking like a falling leaf, she slowly reached down and stroked the furry
sheath of the animal's cock. King squirmed impatiently under her gentle touch.
"Turn your head so I can see you," ordered Harold. "I want to see it going in and out of
that dog-sucking mouth of yours. Suck it good now... suck it!"
Vainly, Jean tried to blot out all thoughts of what she was doing from her mind, to hold
back the choking wad of nausea filling her stomach. Placing the side of her face against
the huge animal's warm belly, she began to fondle his long, fur-encased member with
her hand. Slowly, ever so slowly, she stroked it, while Harold looked on wide-eyed, and
suddenly... it appeared... the pointed scarlet, glistening tip of King's long animal-cock
oozing out of its protective sheath, slowly moving forward. She took a long, deep breath
to fight back the nausea.
"Now! Suck it, slut! Suck it!" Harold hissed.
Holding her breath now, she did it. Pushing all the degradation from her mind, Jean
opened her lips and allowed the slender red cock-tip to slide into her moist mouth, then
farther and farther, until it touched the back of her throat. As she brought her tongue
into action, the taste surprised her. Amazingly it was almost sweet, tangy. King
responded immediately, hunching his rear flanks forward as she began to suck and twirl
his lewdly distended organ in her mouth. As she moved her hand to his balls, caressing
them lightly with her fingertips, a long low whine came from the animal's throat and
his left rear leg began to quiver convulsively.
She hollowed her cheeks slightly as the long tapered shaft shot into her mouth in one
steady pumping rhythm. She closed her teeth, but not enough to hurt the animal,
swirling her tongue around his hardening member as the excitement of this incredible
depraved thing she was doing began to kindle inside her belly. Somehow it didn't seem
nearly so awful as she'd anticipated – rather, almost enjoyable in a terribly wicked,
forbidden sort of way.
"Suck it, bitch! Suck it good!" Harold commanded, pulling her full widespread buttocks
closer toward him.
Jean felt the sudden surge of the man's hot penile shaft plunging wildly up into her
seething vaginal passage and she had to cry out, "but the fantastic fulfilling animal-cock
fucking into her ovaled lips wouldn't allow it. It was beginning to taste even sweeter,
and the way it plunged into her mouth was driving her wild with pure primal lust as
Harold began to screw into her again with renewed energy, but this time from behind.
And suddenly Jean began to thirst for King's animal-cum as well, thirst for it to gush
down her throat, to choke her as it spurted forth in a hot sticky torrent! Maybe she'd
finally cracked up, but that was what she wanted, and she sucked and tongued his
glistening obscene spear ravenously while Harold burrowed his excitedly stiffened
member up into the tender depths of her wet clasping vagina. She could feel his heavy,
sperm-laden balls slapping with a loud thump against the sensitive nub of her erect
little clitoris, and she closed her eyes, savoring every second of this abandoned wicked
ecstasy she had suddenly found.
Harold cursed under his breath with delight, reveling with lewd excitement in the feel
of his sister-in-law's cunt squeezing tightly around his urgently pulsing hardness while
he watched King's long crimson cock sliding wetly between her pursed lips, his strong
sinewy flanks jerking spasmodically as she scratched delicately at his furry animal-balls
with the nails of one hand. Harold grunted with pleasure and drew the hard, bloodfilled 
shaft of his own penis out slightly, watching with cruel, passion-dazed eyes as the
tender pink flanges of vaginal flesh pulled out with it – then his cock disappeared once
more up in the provocative little aperture with an Inward thrust that sank his throbbing
organ to the hilt in her moist pussy wetness. His breathing became faster and suddenly
he began rocking rhythmically in and out of her warm clasping cuntal channel,
slamming deep up into her belly with each and every thrust.
"Ooohhh... ooohhh... ooohhh," Jean moaned around King's ever-swelling organ buried
in her mouth as she knelt like a wretched slave before him, committed to his total feral
satisfaction. Harold was delighted to watch her lose control like this – it filled him with
lewd amusement to watch her grinding back onto his own glistening shaft as it cruelly
fucked into her again and again. Damn, what an unbelievable slut she had become! She
was sucking King's cock with obvious wild-eyed delight in an insane effort to bring on
her own delicious, all-consuming climax.
On and on she sucked at King's pistoning scarlet cock, her fingers warmly caressing his
downy black balls. Harold felt her buttocks clench as she squirmed to suck him up even
farther into her ravenous belly, filling her clasping cunt with his hotly stiffened
manhood as she climbed higher and higher in search of final fulfillment. He couldn't
stand much more of this and he began pounding into the hungry furrow furiously,
slamming his pelvis against her churning upturned buttocks so hard he thought he'd
split her in half.
Nothing else in the world mattered to Jean except the searing desire ravaging her
knotted craving belly. Where shame and humiliation should have been, there was now
only an uncontrollable hunger for more... and more! Her ravenous needs grew
maddeningly as Harold stepped up the pace of his powerful assault on her seething
vaginal passage and her wildly quivering belly and loins screamed desperately for
precious relief. She ground back against his impaling shaft like the insatiable bitch she
had become, all the while sucking and tonguing the sweet, honey-tasting animal-cock
fucking deliciously into her throat. She could feel the telltale moans of passion slipping
from her lungs. She was nearly there...
King's massive, sinewy body began to quiver convulsively and suddenly, without
warning, Jean's mouth was filled with a great undamming of thick warm liquid which
gagged her, slithering and oozing down her hungrily gulping throat. Like a starving
animal, she sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed while the huge beast whined
with ecstatic delight and her whole body shivered with the pleasurable raptures of
perverse unrestrained masochism...
Just as quickly as it had begun, it was all over, and the huge dog's cock began to deflate,
to withdraw from her eagerly clasping lips, until finally he rolled from beneath her and
got to his feet.
"Oh, yes, yes! Oh... ooohhhhh..." she moaned wantonly at her panting brother-in-law
as he pistoned savagely into her wildly stretched vaginal passage, streams of sweat
running from his body and mingling with her own as they coursed along her thighs
and legs. "I... I'm going to cum! I'm going to... Now! Oh, God, nowwwww!"
As his fiercely battering cock worked itself again and again up into her slickly sheathing
pussy, her hips forced themselves back onto the delicious impaling shaft and she
groaned incessantly as the pleasure grew and grew and grew and then burst in a
dizzying kaleidoscope of colors. Never had she dreamed she could be brought to such
incredible bliss... never had she known such total devouring wantonness.
She was spinning out of control in a frenzied rippling orgasm that filled her whole
being. She was gone! Nothing else mattered... nothing but those delicious satisfying
chills of pure pleasure coursing through her obscenely ravished body.
"Aaaaahhh..." she groaned as the blessed fulfilling relief spread over her naked form,
her senses dazed to everything around her in the magnificence of this special moment.
Harold cursed aloud, still sawing into her savagely with the last of his stored-up
strength, thrusting into her so hard she thought his enormous throbbing cock would
rip all the way through her and burst out her mouth! She felt his strong pelvis snap
convulsively against the flattened mounds of her buttocks and then a great flooding
surge of thick hot semen burst up into her clasping, sucking vagina, filling her
trembling belly to the brim, then oozing out in a thin, hot rivulet down the inside of
her weakly quivering thighs.
She heard him gasp out one last satisfied groan of relief, then withdraw, his rubbery
cock now deflated. Her tightly clasping vagina released its grip on his limp organ
reluctantly and he slithered out of her with a wet sucking sound. In its place came a
quick welcome, chilling rush of air against her unplugged hole. Then she fell backward,
sprawled, exhausted, her breasts heaving. Never had she felt so filled, so wonderfully
luxurious, she thought. Nothing could ever equal it.
But she was wrong.
"Aaaaahhh..." she groaned as the blessed fulfilling relief spread over her naked form,
her senses dazed to everything around her in the magnificence of this special moment.
Harold cursed aloud, still sawing into her savagely with the last of his stored-up
strength, thrusting into her so hard she thought his enormous throbbing cock would
rip all the way through her and burst out her mouth! She felt his strong pelvis snap
convulsively against the flattened mounds of her buttocks and then a great flooding
surge of thick hot semen burst up into her clasping, sucking vagina, filling her
trembling belly to the brim, then oozing out in a thin, hot rivulet down the inside of
her weakly quivering thighs.
She heard him gasp out one last satisfied groan of relief, then withdraw, his rubbery
cock now deflated. Her tightly clasping vagina released its grip on his limp organ
reluctantly and he slithered out of her with a wet sucking sound. In its place came a
quick welcome, chilling rush of air against her unplugged hole. Then she fell backward,
sprawled, exhausted, her breasts heaving. Never had she felt so filled, so wonderfully
luxurious, she thought. Nothing could ever equal it.
But she was wrong.


Chapter 11

For perhaps twenty minutes there was very little sound in the room. The stillness was
broken only by the slowly easing, ragged breathing of a temporarily satiated Jean Clark
and her brother-in-law, Harold. The rhythmic lapping of King's tongue as he washed
his limp animal-penis resounded lewdly against the incessant hum of the vibrator
buried in the insatiable pussy of the. sensually mesmerized Amy.
Jean was the first to stir, her mind bruised from the tremendous psychic beating she
had just endured. Her tender chaffed cuntal passage throbbed painfully as she struggled
to one elbow and opened her mouth to speak, but Harold's hand, ramming roughly
between her open thighs, quieted her instantly. Unbelievably, she knew she wanted
more!
Oh, my God! What has come over me? her thoughts screamed hysterically.
But she offered no objection at all as her brother-in-law's hand began caressing the
tremulous softness of her inner thighs. Obediently, her legs parted wider, and
instinctively her hand sought and found his steadily stiffening cock. Then they were
together, his hardening length of turgid male flesh slipping between the moist fleshy
lips of her hotly quivering cunt.
The smoldering coals of renewed desire were quickly fanned and as Harold's luststiffened, 
rutting cock burrowed deep up into her moistly clasping cunt, Jean found
herself grinding back at his loins with gradually increasing rhythm.
"Ummmmm," she moaned salaciously as her hips began to rock back and forth,
plunging his enormous pulsing hardness in and out of her rekindled, trembling,
insatiable pussy-flesh.
Suddenly, Harold gripped her tightly around the waist and flipped her over, rolling so
that he was on the bottom with her breasts mashed flat against his chest and her naked
thighs straddling his hips. It surprised her for a moment, but she quickly regained the
delicious lustful tempo from her new position, his hard swollen cock now ramming
straight up into her receptive belly as her loins squatted over him, her firm full buttocks
upraised and waving alluringly in the air.
The sound of his snapping fingers slowly crept through Jean's lust-engrossed thoughts
and then with sudden and sickening clarity, their meaning.
The shattering realization of what Harold planned for her tore through her with the
force of a dynamite blast. Oh, my God, no! No! her mind screamed. But it was too late.
The bed bounced with the springing leap of the huge dog.
"Let me go!" she cried. "Let me go or I'll scream!"
"Go ahead and scream, cunt," Harold sneered. "See what it gets you."
Jean was trembling with fear as beads of cold sweat streamed down her back.
Oh, no, this can't be happening... this can't be real!
Her trembling buttocks were completely exposed and vulnerable, waving like a red flag
before a bull as she squirmed to get away from her human tormentor's tight grip.
The big German shepherd positioned himself behind his prey, sniffed at her upturned
buttocks knowingly, then began licking the familiar crevice he'd already lapped to
orgasm once today.
"See, King likes you. Why don't you be a nice little girl and give him what he wants."
Harold punctuated his request with a sharp upward thrust of his pelvis, punching his
stiffened fleshy cock-shaft brutally far up into her belly. She grimaced from the sudden
pain.
"No! I won't! I won't!" gasped.
Suddenly King growled viciously, then his cold wet nose nuzzled lewdly into Jean's
fearfully quivering buttocks. She froze, instantly petrified at the prospect of what the
enormous dog could do to her.
"Looks like King just wants a taste of that tight little ass of yours," said Harold with a
sinister grin.
He squeezed the hapless young wife even tighter, crushing her heaving breasts against
his bare chest and shoving her naked buttocks up even higher so that they were more
vulnerable, more exposed to the talented animal's probing nose and tongue.
His own cock hardened painfully inside her moist vaginal channel as he watched the
animal mounting the spread half-moons of Jean's softly struggling buttocks, paws
strongly around her waist as if she were his mate. He could see the glistening crimson
penis slipping from the animal's furry penile sheath, dripping wetly while the tapered
point snapped and jerked toward the enticing brown ring of her anus. The massive
beast quivered, adjusting his hind-quarters, and Harold grasped his wavering hardness
helpfully, positioning the red tapering shaft before her cringing rectal ring.
Jean looked back, eyes wide with fear as the heated tip probed demandingly at her
rectum, then she felt it worm painfully up inside with Harold's malicious guidance.
Suddenly the huge dog lurched forward and his long hard scarlet organ shot up into
her defenseless anal hole with a vicious stab, disappearing all the way up her
unprotected rectum to his dangling black balls!
"Aaaaggghhhh!" Jean groaned in pain, twisting, squirming, trying to dislodge the
impaling animal-cock from her obscenely invaded rectum. But it was hopeless – she
was sandwiched helplessly between the two of them, impaled on two painfully
throbbing male organs at once!
Harold's cock felt as if it would explode, so great was his lust as he felt King's
burrowing hardness only a fraction of an inch from his own. He could actually feel it
begin pumping in and out of her virginally defiled rectum, just on the other side of the
thin fleshy membrane that separated them!
God, it was unbelievable!
King's furry forepaws clutched the woman's hips savagely as he began to rock back and
forth, burying his tapering scarlet hardness deep into her nether channel.
"Goddman!" gasped a suddenly revived Amy.
"That's it, King, fuck her good," ordered Harold, pounding his own long hard member
viciously up into her wet cunt from beneath.
Jean was whirling in both unbelievable, unbearable pain and indescribable, irreversible
pleasure at once. At first the savage invasion had nearly killed her with the excruciating
agony of the pointed shaft bursting into her untried rectum, coupled with the relentless
pounding of her brother-in-law's pummeling thickness from below.
King's wildly jerking shaft bored relentlessly into her seared little anus, pushing aside
the rubbery resistant flesh of her rectal passage with each stroke. The hapless girl was
pinned helplessly between them, impaled to the hilt by lewdly burrowing male cocks.
She gasped through sensuously parted lips as her body began to respond unbelievably,
rocking backward as best she could to meet King's strong muscular, sodomizing
thrusts. And every inch she moved brought new thrills of pleasure-pain from her
stretched vaginal passage as Harold heaved his own turgid hardness up into her
clutching cunt with renewed vigor.
King's forelegs clung to her hips like powerful furry arms, and she began to slowly
undulate her quivering body, rotating her jutting buttocks in lewd grinding circles,
abandoning herself to the incredible ecstasy of being simultaneously fucked by this
mammoth animal and by her brother-in-law! She wished she could see this spectacle,
wished there was some way she could step out of her own body and watch as the two of
them buried their cocks deep up in her defenseless belly, sawing into her in the most
primitive of unions.
Harold had released his tight grip and now her breasts dangled freely beneath her as
she hunched far forward over him, swinging in perfect cadence with the two ravishing,
plundering cocks that were growing... ever growing inside her. She could visualize the
two throbbing fleshy shafts rubbing together somewhere deep in her belly joining
together to slide deeper and deeper into the very depths of her womb, spurting their
hot sticky loads together in one mutual stream, animal and man mingled as one in her
quivering cuntal depths.
"Oh, hurry... hurry... I'm going to cum! Oh, God! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!" Jean cried
as she ground her loins savagely against both pistoning shafts of heated penile flesh,
stretching both her ravaged lower passages. "Ooooooohh... yes... yes! That's it! Fill my
belly with your sweet cum! Fill me! FILL ME!"
Jean was filled with wild passion, now more animal than human, a writhing, sweating
mass of deranged, lust-crazed flesh that wanted to be abused... to be subjugated
ruthlessly. She was reveling in the humiliation of being sodomized by this savage brute
while Harold pounded his surging man-cock up into her hungrily milking pussy from
below, and she ground her buttocks alternately against the two of them, her body
bucking like the shameless bitch in heat she'd become.
She was trembling uncontrollably, shivering with chilling little rivulets of sweat that
poured down the widespread crevice of her buttocks and dripped from the quivering
insides of her thighs. The explosive pressure welling in her belly signaled that her
floodtide orgasm was close to bursting.
Harold was nearly insane with the vicarious wantonness of watching his helpless sister
in-law go mad with lust, her head tossing wildly from side to side, her long blonde hair
flailing the air around her. He could see she was in the first throes of orgasm and he
gaped with amazement as she screwed her buttocks lasciviously back against King's
sodomizing dog-member. The mammoth animal's long dangling tongue lolled from one
side of his powerful jaws as he fucked into the wildly waving ass-cheeks from behind.
Harold fought to hold back the agonizing flood of hot sperm churning in his own
ballooning balls, eagerly trying to hold out until the last precious second, lingering over
every single moment of this incredible female debasement. Then Jean groaned loudly
and rammed back against the animal madly, just as he shot forward and his scarlet
jerking cock began spurting lewd animal-sperm deep up into her convulsively clasping
rectum.
The sight of the thumping animal emptying his hot scalding sperm into his sister-in
law's rectum, spurting past his own cock pistoning deep inside her, was all it took for
Harold. With a deep groan of pleasure, his load of boiling sperm pumped up into her
from beneath, spurting into her belly in explosive fiery blasts that completely filled her
wildly clasping vagina, then trickled back down the shaft of his enormous, madly
jerking cock and oozed down onto his emptying balls.
Suddenly, Jean's rounded wriggling ass-cheeks began contracting and quivering
uncontrollably, indicating the delicious orgiastic explosion deep in her own convulsing
belly as her plundered little anus squeezed and milked insanely.
"Oh, my God! I'm going to... oh, delicious... FUCK...! It's so... so gooooddddd!!! Don't
ever stop... oh, shit...!!!"
She whimpered, moaned, then wailed loudly, crushing her loins down against her
brother-in-law's spurting manhood, then her buttocks back against King's spewing
animal-cock, then down again and back again, down and back, harder, faster, her
sucking cuntal sheath clasping, grasping with insatiable hunger. Her nakedly churning
body had gone out of control, skewering down and back, down and back, with bruising
force, her mouth falling open slackly, her nostrils flaring, a near-shrieking cry escaping
her lips as she screwed herself onto first one cock, then the other, her infernally hot
moist cunt clinging, milking, squeezing ravenously.
Then she was there! "Oh, shit," she cried. "Shit, shit, SHIT! I'm going to cum! I'm
cummmmmiiiingggg!!!"


Chapter 12

Two weeks had passed since that orgiastic day, and a lot of changes had taken place
around the Silver Mountain Resort. Scarcely a night had passed without Amy and
Harold and Jean recreating some of the incredible diversions that day had offered. But
king of all he surveyed was the massive German shepherd.
At first Harold had harbored a growing jealousy for the sleek dog's popularity, but he
soon found there was more than enough pussy to go around. The sexually liberated
tenant, Cindy Arnold, along with her husband, Greg, had become frequent guests for
the Clarks' elaborate orgiastic extravaganzas and, too, there had been yet another softly
sheathing pussy for Harold to burrow his insatiable cock into his daughter Sheila's. All
in all, Harold had decided, life was certainly more enjoyable since the arrival of his
pretty sister-in-law. Jean had been the catalyst that had precipitated all their lives into
an enjoyable, workable equation.
It was evening now, and Jean had a task to complete before the festivities were
scheduled to begin. She had started to write the letter a dozen times, but this time she
knew she had to finish it.

--------

Dear Bob,
Things are absolutely wonderful here with Amy and Harold. Two better relatives you
couldn't ask for.
We've had some great times together, and they've asked me to stay on here
permanently. That is, if it's okay with you. You can join us here when your tour is over.
I'll write more when we've worked out the details.
Love, Jean

--------

There, that's over, and it wasn't so bad after all, the young wife reflected. Anyway, why
should I try to explain the way things are here in a letter. There'll be plenty of time for
that when he comes. And if I can't make him see the light, I know Amy has a few tricks
that should do the job nicely.
Jean stamped the envelope and sealed it, then decided she had time to walk to the post
office. As was normal now, her ever-constant companion was by her side before she
could leave the apartment.
He rubbed his big furry head against her bare leg as she walked in the cool fall air,
nuzzling her as a low whine escaped from his throat.
"Good boy, King! Good boy! We've got quite a night planned for you, big fella! And
who knows, maybe if you're real good, Harold might have a big surprise for you!"


THE END
