Dog Days
by Jocelyn Ryder


Millie didn't have anything against sex-as long as it was proper. But her 
husband had a greatly different opinion about what fell into that category. 
She knew that if she ever gave into her wild longings they would run away 
with her, sensing what Albert Ellis reported in Sex Without Guilt, that 
"Women are not necessarily intrinsically different from males in their sex 
drives and needs; and, when they are, they are frequently more rather than 
less highly sexed than are men And then Millie's friends took the decision 
out of her hands-and Millie discovered that it didn't even take a man to 
turn her on. 


CHAPTER ONE 

Jakestown, Colorado, lay in the lower end of Majestic Valley at an elevation 
of nine thousand feet. The slopes of the mountain loomed above it on all 
sides, close on the east and west so that the sun was two hours later rising 
on the town than it was anywhere else and two hours earlier setting. The 
mountains were close on the north, also, where the river came out of Black 
Gorge, but at the south end of the valley they lay a mile and a half 
distant. The paved highway that slipped out of the gorge and ran through the 
center of town and down the valley to plunge from sight in the lower gorge 
was Jakestown's Main Street. 

Between Main Street and the river bank, Silver Street's dust-filled ruts of 
red earth made a grim mockery of its name. But Silver Street was redeemed to 
some extent by the neat little houses with white picket fences and brave 
rose bushes that lined it. East of Main was Diamond Avenue, crowded with 
shacks that housed the miners and the road crew, and then Bonanza Avenue. 
Bonanza skirted the foot of the east slope and the homes it served were 
substantial two-storied mansions built in the first decade of the century. 
They sat well apart and dug their feet in to bedrock, their backs hunched 
against the pressure of runoff from summer rains and winter snow slides. 

Millie Frosh lived in Cowle House by right of heritage, and from the dormer 
window in the vaulted-ceilinged living room she could look down the length 
of Broadway two blocks to the pavement of Main Street and another two blocks 
to the bank of deep-channeled Wild River. She'd brought Cowle House to her 
marriage with Tom Frosh ... Cowle House and a considerable interest in the 
valley's mining properties and an intense case of worship. 

She paused frequently in her work to glance out the dormer, as she did every 
morning because the town was such an integral part of her. This morning, the 
vacuuming had come first, as usual, after the breakfast dishes were out of 
the way and the kitchen was scrubbed. Vacuuming ... the carpet and its rich 
oriental pattern of reds and golds and blacks ... the stones of the great 
fireplace, gleaming white quartz with this streaks of wire gold ... window 
ledges that were knee-high and a foot and a half deep for sitting and 
staring at the valley (and for hiding the storage space within) ... and the 
heavy blinds for lowering to block the rays of the afternoon sun. Dusting 
always followed vacuuming, and Millie had already finished the dry-rag part; 
she had lovingly wiped off the thin, red layer from each book and vase and 
figurine and was now doing the shelves and tables, themselves, with the 
oil-rag in her hand feeling moist and smelling strongly of lemon. And the 
long, narrow, hip-high table that stood before the dormer and the window 
seats made it next to impossible to work without her eyes straying toward 
the scene outside. 

Jakestown was like it had been since the days when its first flush of wild 
silver fever wore off and the women had arrived-and yet there were changes 
that could never be reversed. The ankle-deep dust in Jakestown's streets 
would never change; turning to mud in the rain and freezing to ridged, red 
knives in the winter and disintegrating once more to powder under the summer 
sun. The buildings would continue to weather, like the people, siding fading 
in the wind and rain and snow and their supports threatening to abandon 
them. But every spring the inhabitants scraped off paint flakes and 
re-coated the streaked surfaces and shored up the underpinnings. 

There'd be no new stores or restaurants, Millie knew, and probably no new 
houses, but unless the deeper veins of minerals pinched off there'd always 
be a family for every house in town and a steady trickle of business along 
Main Street and up the first block of Broadway. 

But the people changed, Millie reflected. They watched television, bringing 
it into the valley on cables that ran down the slopes from the community 
antenna set atop the east ridge. They read paperbacks and listened to rock 
and knew the outside world. They weren't the exhausted moles they'd once 
been, and their dreams shaped themselves on frameworks that were part of the 
real world instead of on wistful nostalgia. 

In the homes along Bonanza there were two social contingents now, and that 
was a change. There was only one when Millie was a girl-all part of that 
first handful of pioneer entrepreneurs whose roots struck deep into the 
mines-who owned the ground and the equipment and the miners-and who banked 
the yield from the sale of metals after the ore was processed at the lower 
end of the valley. But lately the old mansions were housing those who had 
come to the valley with investment incomes having no relation to the 
mountain riches but who wanted to get away from the metropolitan pace. 

Tom Frosh had to be counted almost an old-timer. He'd brought in outside 
money all right; but he'd brought engineering and management know-how, too, 
and if he'd bought his way into the Silver Promise, he'd earned his right to 
direct it. There was a quality about Tom that fit the spirit of the old days 
and old ways so that his marriage to Millie (and the controlling interest in 
the Golden Lady that brought him) had been the last thing necessary to rid 
of his "outsider" label. 

Millie smiled at how much her husband did fit into the spirit of the old 
days. He seemed to have a past tinged with livelier amusements than 
Jakestown or she were prepared to offer-Jakestown during social hours or she 
in bed-but showed no impatience either with the town or with her. Without 
his ever having said so or her ever having asked, Tom conveyed the 
impression that he was satisfied to regard that part of life the way her 
father and her grandfather had-keeping a lady in the house and whatever 
stronger form of excitement he needed somewhere outside the valley. 

Millie resented Tom's cheating as much as her mother and her grandmother 
resented their husbands' infidelity in their time, but Tom was as discreet 
about it as earlier men in the family had been and Millie wasn't going to 
turn over the rock any more than the other Cowles women had. Millie had 
detected a streak of unnatural tastes in Tom's sex play during their 
honeymoon and she'd taken immediate, firm measures to smother them. If he 
were seeking that kind of stimulation on his occasional "business" trips 
away from the valley, at least he wasn't forcing her into uncivilized, 
humiliating acts when he was home. 

Millie wrenched her thoughts away from that disquieting area; it was too 
easy to arouse the primitive imagination that everyone had-to slip into 
fantasies that made her face burn even when she was alone-and if she often 
gave way to that kind of secret wildness, there'd come a day when she'd 
forget herself with Tom. 

She'd been thinking of the changes in Jakestown. All right. Eric Benson and 
Freeda, two doors south on Bonanza, and Will Morris and Bertha, next door 
south of them, were old stock. So were Howard Caldwell and Edith in the home 
next to Cowle House on the north. But Wayne Decker and his wife, Tracy, 
lived between Cowle House and the Bensons; and Paul Chase and Frances lived 
in the old Larkins place north of the Caldwells. Both couples were 
transplants and showed no desire to bury their fortunes in the mines. Still, 
they were in the same age bracket as the natives-the Deckers pushing thirty 
and the Chases just past-and they had somewhat the same tastes. Above all, 
they loved the mountains and the slow pace of the valley; it probably didn't 
matter if they acted a little too intimate with each other sometimes, so 
long as they wore well and respected local custom in public. 

Millie finished dusting and carefully vacuumed the dust cloth. There weren't 
many housewives who did that, she thought, but she'd learned the trick from 
her mother and knew what it added to the life of the cloth. She put away her 
equipment and returned to the window for the short rest that she always took 
at this point in her housework. Boils of dust were moving south along 
Bonanza and Millie could see similar billows crossing Broadway where it 
intersected Diamond and Main and Silver. By tomorrow morning the fine, red 
powder would again have coated every surface in the house and she could 
again go about her ritual. 

A half block down Broadway a crowd of miners' kids raced through the red 
dirt kicking a crumpled can in their version of street soccer. A hundred 
yards to the" right, along Bonanza, a pack of dogs swarmed around a dodging 
bitch. Even as Millie glanced their way a rangy, gray brute that looked like 
a cross between a shepherd and a wolf, mounted the bitch. As if maddened by 
the sight of his success, the other males broke into a frenzied orgy, 
scrambling to mount each other and twisting and snapping to protect their 
own rears. 

Millie laughed. There was something about the scene that made her think of 
the antics of kids who imagined they were safely out of sight of the 
grownups. But her laughter trailed off uncomfortably as the single-minded 
obsession of the animals-and the savage concentration with which the bitch 
now planted her hind feet and thrust herself up onto the gray's stabbing 
redness-drove off the image of playful children and aroused the strange 
apprehension that had lately begun to trouble her. She caught her lower lips 
between her teeth and knelt on the window ledge. 

It was that Decker woman, she told herself, who'd first brought on that 
apprehension. Tracy Decker and her leopard-like, sleepy look and a sudden 
awareness among the men. Millie'd been sure she was imagining things at 
first; she'd put it down to the drinks-or maybe the conversation-and 
shrugged it off. But she'd felt it more and more often when she was around 
Tracy and the other outsiders. And she'd felt it strongly enough to try 
analyzing it. 

At first it was just Tracy. There was something about her that was such raw 
sex that it lifted Millie's nerve-ends and put her on edge. That kind of 
woman could twist the men around her out of their quiet habits and turn them 
into fools. But Tracy hadn't, oddly enough. If that kind of worry had bred 
Millie's apprehension, it wasn't a factor any longer. The thing that had 
replaced the natural and easily controllable fear of competition was a 
predatory quality in the way Tracy acted toward Millie, herself. Not like 
Miss Furman had warned at boarding school-where girls could get a thing 
about other girls-but something more like a madam in Denver might reveal as 
she studied some innocent young lady passing in the street. Millie had more 
than once surprised Tracy when the Decker woman was studying her 
speculatively and glancing with a thoughtful expression from her to one or 
another of the men. 

All in all, it was a silly obsession she'd invented in her own mind, Millie 
told herself. After all, she knew what a figure she had and how something 
about her carriage and movements and the way she used her eyes and mouth 
made people think of sex. Bertha Morris could be brutally untactful at 
times, and she'd once expressed what Millie suspected ran in the other 
women's minds. 

"I tell ya, Millie," Bertha had said with the frankness born of a half dozen 
drinks. "Times like tonight I get my kicks outta imaginin' my Will-or maybe 
one o' these other guys-ridin' your saddle! You wasn't such a lady you'da 
been laid by every guy on Bonanza, not to mention most o' the miners!" 

Tracy wasn't mountain-reared like Bertha; she was sophisticated and 
naturally a lady. But maybe she had something of Bertha's curious 
imaginative quality-refined to suit her more subtle character-and "got her 
kicks" by starring Millie in her own fantasies. The trouble was Tracy's 
behavior seemed to be infectious; it'd gotten so Millie was seeing hints of 
hunger in the glances most of the men now gave her. And that hunger was 
invariably most obvious when Tracy was around. 

It had to be an illusion, Millie insisted to herself. It simply had to be a 
combination of all sorts of minor factors. Like the way she'd compared 
herself to Tracy in the first heat of jealousy at the woman's feline 
attractiveness. She'd readily convinced herself that her own Irish build and 
coloring-the pale, translucent skin with its tiny freckles and the glossy, 
black hair tumbling around her shoulders and her proud breasts and tiny 
waist and generous, tapered hips-were easily as exciting to men as Tracy's 
tawny coloring and sinuous shape. No doubt she'd oversold her desirability 
to herself and now imagined that all the men secretly wished they could 
comer her in a hay loft. 

But no amount of rationalizing could dispel Millie's apprehension. She 
probably would have to get Tom to take her out of the valley before she'd be 
able to throw it off. She was surely "mountain-bound," and the staleness 
with Tom in the bedroom and the certainty that their love-making was 
tasteless gruel to him must have depressed her spirits further than she'd 
realized. Right now the raw lust in the dog pack seemed to be a distillate 
of the aura she attributed to Tracy. And from the effect the sight was 
having on her, she was absorbing the essence of that disturbing influence. 

She leaned toward the window, her groin pressed against the top of the 
magazine stand that stood on the window seat, and watched the gray complete 
his pumping. Both animals appeared satisfied and were trying to disengage, 
but that perverse quirk of canine anatomy that she'd observed before was at 
work; they were stuck. Somehow, the grey had managed to dismount, and he and 
the bitch stood tail-to-tail, their forepaws on the ground and their 
interlocked condition forcing their hindquarters into the air so that their 
hind feet pedalled uselessly. They spun in awkward circles and the other 
males crowded about in agitated fascination. She imagined she could hear the 
howls and barks through the closed windows. 

That was what she secretly fancied Tracy saw in her, she reflected. And she 
could see it, herself. She could see herself in the middle of a pack of 
panting men, hung up on one of them and knowing that another would be on top 
of her the moment she freed herself, with Tracy somewhere in the background 
keeping score and assigning turns. 

God, what kind of fantasy is that! thought Millie. She felt a wave of 
excitement and thrust herself onto the corner of the stand, then shrank from 
it and left the window to shut off her view of the milling dogs. What kind 
of perverted creature was she turning into to let herself stare that way and 
grind her crotch on a piece of furniture! That was why people had 
inhibitions and childhood commandments, to give them strength to resist the 
temptation of erotic deviation! 

Sure there were exciting things people could do besides natural love-making. 
A girl couldn't go through boarding school without hearing most of them. And 
a lot of them were likely to produce stronger reactions-and maybe 
considerably more intense sensations-than the respectable, traditional way 
of mating. She'd be lying to herself if she denied that she had caught 
herself in unguarded moments wishing she could try some of them. But she was 
safe; she'd made her resolutions while there was still time and self-control 
to keep them. No one was going to catch her backsliding! 

Millie pushed at the tightness in her belly and stole another glance at the 
dogs. They were emissaries of the Devil, sent to try her. She'd put them out 
of her mind and get her shopping done. With everyone coming for bridge 
tonight she hadn't time for fantasies anyhow. 

Outside, it was warm. The sunlight was a caress and the wind was mild. 
Cottonwoods and aspens bent before the gusts and rattled their leaves loudly 
together. Millie heard the shouts of the youngsters ahead and the clank of 
the can, and, as she passed the Murphy shack on the corner of Diamond and 
Broadway, she heard the youngest Murphy squalling from its playpen. A truck 
somewhere south of town was laboring up the grade with its engine grinding, 
and the roar of the ore processors came faintly against the wind. 

Edith Caldwell was in Sam's Grocery when Millie got there. 

"Hi, Millie. Everything ready for tonight?" she asked. 

"All but the last minute shopping. Is Howard still on his diet or can he eat 
something rich for dessert?" 

Edith made a face and laughed. "He's lost five pounds, so he thinks he can 
have anything on special occasions ... like if it's anyone's birthday, or a 
party, or a sunny day, or you name it." She shrugged. "What the hell? I'm 
not scared of his squashing me anymore, now that I do the riding, so have 
something real special; that'll put him in the mood." 

Millie squirmed. It was hard to keep from showing the distress Edith's 
graphic comment was causing her. She wouldn't hurt Edith for the world, but 
it must be bad enough to have to make love in such a way without coming 
right out in the open with it like that. And to imply that she'd welcome his 
having his appetite aroused...! But Edith had changed the subject without 
drawing breath. 

"... and pulled the rug out from under us! Howard said he thought Tom might 
have to go down there to put a stop to it." 

"What?" Millie sensed from the tone of Edith's voice that there was 
something besides routine chatter here. "I'm sorry, dear. I got distracted." 

"The government. That silly injunction in Denver." 

"About radiation levels in the ore? But that was supposed to be cleared up 
last week!" 

"Not that!" Edith sounded impatient. "The stockholder thing. Howard called 
me on the telephone. The Waverlies dumped their interest and everyone's 
trying to unload. Majestic Valley money's just not going to be enough to 
keep the bottom in if the government shuts down operations for an 
investigation. And Howard says they will if management can't guarantee stock 
security for the little people." 

"But they can't! All the assets are tied up in the merger!" 

"Howard says that's the problem. The Waverlies couldn't stop the merger by 
vote, so they think they can get a receivership this way." 

"That terrible!" Millie was furious and an edge of panic was probing at her. 
A move like that could wipe out the valley money and ruin everything they 
stood for. The worst of it was that the little people, the miners here and 
the farmers and clerks throughout the state who'd bought into the stock 
sharing plan when Tom and the others had come out with it-would be the worst 
hurt. 

Edith looked puzzled. "Tom hasn't called you? Well, he was probably too busy 
trying to hold things together. Anyhow, Howard says Tom'll likely leave for 
Denver today." She brightened. "But don't call off the bridge on account of 
that! We'll all come to cheer you up." 

Millie smiled tautly. "If Tom's going to Denver I am, too. I need a few days 
of new scenery. I'll call him as soon as I get home. If he'll take me, I'll 
let everyone know the party's off." She turned toward the cold storage chest 
and grinned at Edith, her tightness fading. "Just in case, I'll have the 
richest dessert I can buy!" 

"Thanks. Look, honey. Things might not be as bad as they sound. Howard said 
there was something in the wind about Wayne Decker and Paul Chase putting 
money into the corporation. He thinks they've been talking to Tom about it 
on the q.t. ever since Tracy's brother came." 

"Roberto? What's he got to do with it? He's just a guest, I thought." 

Edith nodded. "He is. But Howard thinks he got interested in what was going 
on at the Silver Promise and the Golden Lady and figures the merger with 
Shacklett Enterprises could do spectacular things to the stock. I guess he's 
gotten Wayne and Paul excited too." 

God, what a magpie! thought Millie. If Tom hadn't wanted the word out-and he 
certainly hadn't mentioned it at home-then Howard had no business telling 
Edith! 

Millie finished her shopping and paid Sam, impatient to get away from Edith 
before saying something she'd regret. And she hurried back up Broadway and 
dashed up the steep steps to the house, winding herself so that she had to 
catch her breath before she could call Tom. 

Tom groaned when she told him what Edith had said. "Damn it, it'll be all 
the way up and down the street! And more than likely down in the shacks, 
too. That big-mouthed bitch!" 

"She's goodhearted, hon. It's just that she doesn't get much excitement. Is 
it as bad as she said?" 

"No. There's no sweat." 

"And no trip to Denver?" 

"Well-I-I, I'll have to go to Denver all right. Meant to call you in the 
next few minutes. I'll have to leave it about an hour." 

"Oh, honey! I need the trip so badly! I'm getting claustrophobia here in the 
valley!" 

"Whoa! Stick it out for a few days, baby. Let me get this thing worked out 
first. Then I'll take you on a real vacation." 

"Oh, honey! I wouldn't be in the way!" 

"Of course not. But I'm not going to be at my best. And with Decker and 
Chase money riding with me-and Roberto Montejo putting his in-I've got to 
keep my mind on business." 

She swallowed her disappointment. "They're really going in?" 

"Damn good thing, too, baby! Nowhere else to get that kind of commitment in 
time. Whole thing'd go to hell!" 

"I'll thank them." 

"Yeah. After it's all sewed down." 

What came after that was strictly husband and wife stuff, Millie reflected 
afterward. She'd tried not to let him hear in her voice how deeply she was 
disappointed, but she knew she'd sounded cool. And it might be a whole week 
before she could correct the impression. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Millie toyed with the idea of calling off the bridge party. Now that Tom was 
off the telephone and she could think through his excuse for leaving her at 
home, she felt sick and alone. If anyone had ever been built with an inner 
mechanism for focusing on business to the exclusion of everything else it 
was Tom: he wouldn't have known whether she was there or not. He had left 
her behind so he could work off some of those extra-curricular tastes of 
his, that was that. And there wasn't a thing she could do about it. A poor 
foundation for a hostess to build a party on. 

But with so little entertainment in Jakestown everyone looked forward to 
these evenings and she couldn't disappoint them. But with Tom gone they 
wouldn't have the right number of players. Millie mentally scanned the 
possibilities. There was Tracy's brother; maybe he played bridge. 

She dialed the Decker number. 

"Tracy? ... Millie Frosh. I wondered if Roberto was a bridge player." 

Tracy's voice was vibrant and husky. "Bridge? Sure! And anything else that 
isn't honest toil." That figured, thought Millie. Must run in the family. 
Tracy'd said once that her father had never done a productive thing in his 
life-that he'd started with a substantial fortune and swelled it to obscene 
dimensions by sheer financial juggling. And Tracy claimed that her own 
ambition had been to marry rich so she'd never have to keep house or work. 
So this revelation about Roberto had to fit. 

"Bring him then, honey. Tom's going to Denver-emergency thing-and I don't 
want to ruin the night by being a player short. Besides," she added hastily, 
"I've been dying to meet Roberto. I mean, we all want to make him feel 
welcome in the valley." 

Tracy laughed gustily. "We'll bring him, darling. Couldn't keep him away; he 
was going to crash the party if he couldn't manage some ploy to make himself 
indispensable. He loves the valley and says he's tired of admiring the 
animal life from a distance." 

Millie mumbled her thanks to Tracy and hung up. She felt suddenly cold; her 
apprehension had washed over her again with sickening force, and the 
knowledge that it was baseless did nothing to reduce it. She went about her 
preparations woodenly, trying to find some topic of thought that would 
engross her deeply enough to free her of the mood. Unfortunately there was 
too little to do. Her habitual thoroughness and phobia about avoiding last 
minute panic had guaranteed that this afternoon would be almost free of 
demands, and with the last few items taken care of she could find nothing 
that required her attention. 

Millie wandered aimlessly through the house hoping for something to distract 
her, knowing it was useless. But in the dark background of her mood she felt 
as if she were seeing the rooms through a stranger's eyes. There was relief 
in the furnishings; every piece had either been in the house during her 
childhood or was something Tom had brought with him. And his possessions 
weren't furniture. They had his original drafting board in a comer of the 
living room, for example. It was made of the same dark wood most of the 
furniture was done in, and it was designed along the same generous lines and 
finished with the same unhurried craftsmanship. Tom called it hopelessly old 
fashioned, with its heavy, wide-set legs and the tilted top that couldn't be 
adjusted. But he'd done his first engineering work on that table and had a 
sentimental attachment it. 

Tom was able to lean over it and work with total freedom, Millie supposed. 
The table would never have done for her; the front edge was precisely at 
thigh-top level and if she'd bent over it she would have been lying on the 
work. Not that it could hurt the table, of course-it would have borne the 
weight of a prize boar-but she'd have wound up with the drawing on her front 
instead of on the paper. 

Apart from that keepsake, there was nothing of Tom's downstairs. The dining 
room furniture had been imported and was massive enough to hold its own in a 
room with a twelve foot ceiling. Even the enormous chandelier-a cross of 
timbers suspended by log chain from the structural beams-failed to detract 
from the air of hospitality that the great table and proportionately ample 
chairs exuded. In the living room were two huge armchairs, fully upholstered 
in blue plush, and a sofa in the same style. Each chair had its own lamp 
table, and the couch had two. A long, narrow table stretched before the 
windows. 

The bedrooms had been furnished after a single style, the only double bed 
being in the room she and Tom used upstairs. The other three bedrooms 
contained two single beds each. Every bed was a four-poster, built to 
support a canopy and side curtains, and each was high enough to require 
climbing onto rather than falling upon. 

This afternoon there was an atmosphere of grimness about the collection. If 
it weren't for the drafting table and the chests Tom had in the three 
upstairs rooms, it would be hard to believe that anyone lived here with her. 
And if she should pull down the shades at all the windows no one would 
imagine that she was at home, because no glimmer of light or sound would 
penetrate the outer shell of the structure. If Millie had wanted isolation 
she could have telephoned the guests and said she was going to Denver with 
Tom. But isolation was one thing she didn't need tonight, and she was 
thankful the party was ahead of her. 

Millie finally forced herself to rest. Perhaps two or three hours' sleep 
would free her of the black mood that enveloped her. But even in the 
seclusion of her room with the shades down she found it difficult to drift 
away from herself. At last she opened her eyes and knew that she had slept, 
knowing because it took concentrated effort to orient herself. From the 
scandalous disarray of her housedress, Millie knew she must have slept 
restlessly; the skirt was bunched at her waist and the top was cruelly 
twisted around her torso. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes felt puffy 
and she had no idea what time of day it was. 

When she was finally awake, she showered and dressed, taking extra care 
under the urging of some instinct that insisted being alone meant she had to 
look twice as good to make up for Tom's absence. She settled on one of Tom's 
favorites when it came to a dress. It was a smooth-fitting, high-necked 
style with a row of tiny buttons down the front to the skirt top. And the 
skirt top was at the broadest part of her hips, with the length now out of 
fashion with the passage of miniskirts. But fashion was a nebulous thing in 
Jakestown, and Millie wanted to know Tom would have liked the way she looked 
if he'd been here. The outfit had everything to recommend itself to him, she 
knew. She'd noticed the way he eyed the hemline when he thought she was busy 
with something else. Besides, even if she wore a Mother Hubbard around him 
and it was this shade of scarlet, he'd think it was sexy. 

The Deckers were nearly forty-five minutes early, and the Chases walked up 
the steps before Tracy had much more than finished introducing Roberto. 
Millie felt half panicked, wondering if she'd forgotten the starting time, 
but she had to get through the introduction before she could explore that 
problem. 

"So you're the famous brother," she remarked. "We don't get many bachelors 
along Bonanza row, you know. We've been hurt that you wouldn't show 
yourself." 

"The women, she means." Tracy laughed. Roberto grinned wickedly. "Most 
places they arrest a guy for that." 

"What?" Millie squinted, feeling blank. 

"Showing themselves. Anyhow, it was a lousy joke. I'm Bob around my friends, 
and I'm damn glad you asked Tracy to bring me tonight." 

Millie suppressed the desire to scream while Bob studied her. No one had 
ever undressed her with his eyes more openly or efficiently than he was 
doing and none had ever been quite so eloquent with his expression when it 
came to conveying the idea of what he'd do if she were undressed. She 
countered the force of her self-consciousness by studying him as intently. 

Bob was darker than Tracy but not as dark as his name had led Millie to 
expect. He looked like a bronzed gypsy, she thought, and there were scars on 
his face to suggest that he'd met life violently and head-on as it came, and 
a gleam in his eye and crow's-feet at the comers of his mouth to hint that 
he'd enjoyed it that way. He was tall and angular and looked as hard as the 
legs of the tables. His hands startled her with their appearance of delicate 
control. Millie's overall impression was that Roberto wanted diversions in 
his sex life far more outlandish than Tom ever desired, and that there would 
be no denying him. She shivered at the thought. 

"We needed you," she murmured. "And we just had to meet you." 

Paul and Frances were inside by now, and Paul had closed the door. Wayne 
touched Millie's elbow. 

"Let me fill in at the bar for Tom," he said. "That's a man's job." 

"Oh, thanks!" Her relief at his interjection made her knees feel wobbly and 
she clung to his arm. "I'll show you where everything is." It was a standing 
joke that she and Tom had refused to install a real bar. 

She led Wayne to the kitchen, where he pulled the blind closed with a grin. 
"Hate to have the natives watch what we're drinking," he quipped. 

She laughed and showed him where the bottles were and got out a tray of 
glasses. "The other stuff's in that cupboard," she said. "The stirrers and 
shot glasses and stuff." 

"Fine. No problem." He called out loudly. "What's everyone having for 
starters?" 

There was an immediate chorus of replies, and she was glad Wayne had to 
decipher them instead of her. Bob came into the room and rustled a longish 
paper bag she'd seen in his hand without the information registering. 

"For the hostess," Bob said softly, extracting a tall bottle of some 
brilliant green liquor. "The best, guaranteed genuine, smuggled absinthe." 

"Oh, how nice!" exclaimed Millie. She tried to remember where she'd heard 
"absinthe" and in what connection. As ignorant as she was about liquor it 
must have been something special to have sounded familiar just now. She'd 
have to pretend to like it no matter how it tasted. 

Wayne gravely poured a double shot into a glass for her before beginning to 
mix any of the other drinks, and she sipped experimentally. To her pleased 
surprise it tasted as good as it smelled; she wouldn't have to pretend. She 
loved the strong licorice flavor, and it was smooth and warm going down. She 
continued to sip while Wayne mixed the rest of the drinks, and she held out 
her glass for a refill when he was ready to serve the others. He smiled and 
filled the glass to the brim. 

"Go easy," he said kindly. "That imported stuff packs a wallop." 

"I'll quit as soon as I start to feel dizzy," she remarked. "When I do that 
I'm always sober by the time the party's over." 

Wayne and Bob exchanged knowing glances and she bridled at their male 
assurance. She'd show them! She knew what she could hold and she didn't need 
a damn babysitter to hold her hand when she was drinking! She sipped deeply 
and followed Wayne from the kitchen. She noticed that the blinds were drawn 
in the dining room and living room, and she protested gently. 

Frances looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Millie. Does it bother you?" 

"Not terribly. But it seems so inhospitable with the others not here yet." 

"We'll turn on the outside lights when it's time for them to get here. But 
we can put the blinds up if you'd rather!" Frances hesitated. "It's just an 
awful phobia of mine ... a thing from when I was a kid. I can't stand to 
think of people looking in out of the dark at me!" 

"Then leave them down, honey. No problem." Millie paused. Frances had said 
something about when it was time for the others to get here. So she'd not 
made a mistake about the time. "I didn't expect you so soon," she said. "I'm 
glad you were early, but I didn't expect it." 

Tracy smiled. "We thought a half hour of warming up before the bridge 
started would be fun. Besides, the hostess deserves the chance to get to 
know strange guests before she has to introduce them." 

"Watch out who you're calling strange," commented Bob with a rumble in his 
voice. 

"Talk about strange...." Paul laid his hand on Frances's shoulder and 
squinted at the amber fluid in his glass. "I saw my first load of Rocky 
Mountain hay this afternoon." 

"Where?" asked Wayne. 

"Going right through town. Four or five loads before it got dark. Don't see 
how they get those rigs down that goddamn road!" 

Millie laughed. "With the outside wheels hanging over the edge," she said. 
"If you ever meet one on the gorge you'd better find a wide place to pull 
over and stop!" 

Paul shook his head and whistled. "Not me, lady! It'll be a cold day in hell 
before I get caught on that road during haying season!" 

Wayne leaned back and stared up at the shadowed beams. "Hay, Man, I was 
halfway through college before I found out animals ate it. I thought they 
grew it just for recreation." 

There was a ripple of amusement and Millie stiffened. She resented that kind 
of humor in the early stages of a party; it tended to push things too far 
too fast. But she hadn't reacted that way just now, and the fact disturbed 
her. She was even more disturbed by the vivid picture that came to her mind 
of romping naked in the field of fresh-mown hay. She'd never done anything 
like that and there was no reason to imagine it now. Nor was there any 
reason to feel suddenly short of breath and drum-tight in the groin at such 
a daydream. God! She felt as hot as that bitch had looked out on the street 
this afternoon! Her ears were ringing a little, too, and her mouth felt dry 
and cottony. Millie tilted her glass to fill her mouth with the liquid and 
let it trickle slowly down her throat. Maybe she ought to sit down until she 
felt more normal. Things had come along too much on each other's heels 
today; she was almost literally going around in circles. 

Millie somehow edged past her guests when she and Wayne and Bob had come 
back from the kitchen and she was standing beside the drafting table. By 
letting one hip slouch outward against the table she could steady herself 
without being obvious about it. If she didn't have to move right away she'd 
get off this kick of disorientation and be in good shape. The worst part of 
it wasn't feeling so horribly aroused sexually, although that was bad 
enough; it was the fuzzy sensation in her head and the way things blurred 
for her. And if she'd ever needed to have a clear head it was now, because 
everyone else was already drunk; they were swaying incredibly and making no 
sense at all in what they tried to say! 

There was a curious tingling around Millie's nipples. She concentrated, 
thrusting her shoulders back and making her breasts press hard against her 
bra. They were jutting out and up like the Twin Peaks to the south, she 
thought, and she looked down to be sure. They were. They strained against 
the weave of her dress and made the buttons tug at the buttonholes until the 
front of the garment gaped. But stretching this way intensified the tingling 
so she could study it better. It felt as if her nipples had swollen and 
hardened and were being kneaded. It generated a desire within her for the 
wet warmth of a sucking mouth, and she panted raggedly at the thought. If 
she could only be with Tom right now ... if she could only melt to the touch 
of firm, seeking lips on those nipples and the reassurance of strong, male 
fingers pressing inward on the flaming mounds of flesh behind them. 

She squirmed at the thought and her hips slipped past the front comer of the 
tabletop. The comer was there when her buttocks passed it, and by pressing 
back she caught it in their crevice, steadying herself and avoiding the 
embarrassment of a fall. But the hard, unyielding sharpness between her taut 
cheeks drove daggers of flame through her and made her gasp and clamp her 
cheeks on it. The tightening of her buttocks rotated her thighs and drove 
her love mound forward so that when she looked past her breasts she saw the 
fullness of her lower abdomen and an unmistakable bulge that was the mound. 

She held herself motionless and savored the pulse at the surface of her 
breasts and the deeper surges of excitement that washed forward from her 
bottom into her crotch. Even the small of her back and the region around her 
navel prickled with sensitivity now, and the inner surfaces of her thighs 
quivered and rubbed slowly past each other in sympathetic 
satisfaction-seeking. She felt the fuzziness in her head beginning to clear 
and managed to focus her eyes at a distance further than her own body. Bob 
was staring at her, his gaze directed at her breasts and appearing to see 
through her dress and bra as if they weren't there. It was such an intense 
gaze she thought she felt it, and it caressed her hungry flesh and fondled 
the aching swellings. 

Millie felt herself drawn into Bob's eyes, helpless to move and unwilling to 
give up the harmless pleasure that her stance provided. Bob let his glance 
travel slowly downward from her breasts and she could imagine the sensation 
of nylon jersey sliding over her skin, as if the moving stare were drawing 
her dress with it. Her illusion of increasing nakedness persisted and grew, 
and when Bob studied her belly and her hips and the out-thrust ridge of her 
crotch it was exactly as if he were counting the pubic hairs and gauging the 
firmness of her pink folds. 

The fuzziness left Millie with a rush and she knew she'd never been more 
sharply aware in her life. She could identify every nerve ending and hear 
every whisper. There wasn't a detail in the room that wasn't crystal clear 
or a thought that wasn't written in the air. The sensations that flowed 
inward from her body formed a distinct pattern of need and desire and the 
pressure at her bottom was the center and the source. 

She winked her buttocks steadily, acknowledging the superiority of that need 
and knowing abruptly that none of the others mattered. What they might see 
and what they'd think was secondary to that pulsing desire that was 
consuming her. Her guests were in one world and she in another right now, so 
that the only reason she saw them so clearly was some supernatural power in 
her vision. And that power was remarkable! It let her see the unspoken 
message of approval and lust in Bob's eyes and to know that there was no 
more conversation and that Paul and Wayne were looking at her the same way 
Bob was. Frances looked calm and clinical, but Tracy had the expression that 
had brought those curious moments of apprehension. 

Why she should have been apprehensive about the actions of someone in 
another world she couldn't imagine now. It had been so silly of her! After 
all, when one was in one's own world it made no difference how other people 
looked or acted, any more than it mattered what the animals in the zoo saw 
or thought of one. On the other hand these "other-world" guests could be 
useful. She was thirsty again and she could get them to bring her more to 
drink. 

She smiled faintly at Bob and held her empty glass toward him. He returned 
the smile and came to her slowly, as if he were caught in the slow-motion 
part of a film. In the same frozen motion, he took the glass and left the 
room, returning after a long time with more of the green stuff. 

"What did you say this was?" she asked as she tilted the glass to her lips. 

Bob watched her drain it, then said. "Absinthe. Guaranteed a hundred percent 
potent." 

Ah, yes. Absinthe. Absolutely delicious! Why don't we have it in the liquor 
cabinet, she wondered. With Tom's obsession about having whatever anyone 
asked for, too! But the name did mean something. Absinthe! Of course! 
France-and illegal even there because it aroused passion! Aphrodisiac, Tom 
had said. 

Something in Millie wanted to react. She was clearly aware of an inner alarm 
bell and of the relaxed, deliberate act of her consciousness that stilled 
the alarm. But that wasn't right! Alarms had to be answered some way. And 
there were other guests coming who weren't in another world. They'd see the 
way she was burning and put it in personal terms! 

"The Caldwells and...." She didn't have to name them all, she reflected. All 
she had to do was communicate. "They ought to be here now." 

Tracy smiled gently. "Not tonight, darling." 

 CHAPTER THREE 

Not tonight. She'd talked with Edith while she was shopping at Sam's; hadn't 
she told Edith the party was on unless she phoned? Or was it the other way 
around? No! She remembered clearly. 

"But I told Edith we'd go ahead with bridge!" 

"Yes, I know. Edith called. I guess everyone was talking on the telephone 
about Tom's going to Denver." 

Well, it was something to talk about. This thing could wipe out everyone; 
they ought to be talking about it! "Then they'll come," she said. It was as 
simple as that. 

"Not tonight. We thought it'd be unfair for you to have to carry on like 
everything was normal." 

Thoughtful, Edith reflected. That was thoughtful of them. But she ought to 
have made that decision. Or maybe the rest had felt the strain and felt they 
didn't want to have to act as if things were normal. And the Chases and 
Deckers had come. 

"Everyone just decided they ought to call it off?" she asked. 

Tracy laughed softly. "I lied to them," she said. "I said I saw Tom pick you 
up before he left for Denver." 

"Oh, no! Tracy!" 

"For your own good, darling. You need a break." 

"But they'll all think I'm gone!" 

"They won't bother you." 

They wouldn't, Millie thought. From the outside, the house was dark and 
still. Empty, to all appearances. But there was a party of sorts, and she 
was burning from the effects of absinthe supplied by Tracy's greedy-looking 
brother. If that new apprehension of hers was ever justified, it was now. 
And her whole being ought to be screaming with it. 

"But you're here," she said. 

"Yes darling. To help you." 

"I don't need help." 

"You and Tom." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Your marriage; it's showing signs of pressure." Millie shook her head. 
There was pressure; she knew it and so did Tom. They didn't talk about it, 
but it was there. The others could see it, apparently. They couldn't know it 
came from Tom's excesses in his bachelorhood-his difficulty in settling down 
to the reserve and dignity of married life. All they could see was probably 
the strained politeness where there should be close warmth and spontaneous 
sharing. 

"You mean to help?" How could they? 

"Inhibitions ruin marriages that could be good ones, Millie." Tracy sounded 
like a school teacher. 

"Inhibitions!" Then they thought it was her fault! 

"Being afraid to do fun things. Too afraid to find out they really are fun." 

It had to be a nightmare. In front of these three men, Tracy was talking 
about sex. That's all she could be talking about! And about doing things 
respectable married women wouldn't think of doing. As if the success of a 
marriage depended on them. And Tracy and the other newcomers to the valley 
were going to help Millie and Tom with that? Tonight? What the hell, she 
thought. A damn sensitivity session-a psychiatric treatment-group therapy! 
And at a time when she was tingling with need, her body throbbing with 
hunger and awareness of itself. She might say anything! 

A wave of desire washed over Millie. Her glass slipped from her fingers and 
fell to the carpet. Thank God it was empty, she thought as she turned away 
from her guests. She leaned hard against the front of the drafting table, 
gripping its edges with her white knuckles. If she could just hold perfectly 
still for a moment maybe the spasm would pass. 

Tracy and Frances joined her, each resting a hand on one of her shoulders 
and whispering nonsense to her. Through their whispers she thought of the 
way it was getting between Tom and her. How long had it been since he'd made 
love to her? How long? Much too long, however it was measured in days and 
nights. And even the touch of Tracy and Frances' hands as they stroked her 
arms inflamed her! 

But what were they doing now? They were tugging at her hands, making her 
bend over the table until she could grasp the back corners of the drawing 
surface. It left her lying on the tabletop her already clamoring breasts 
pressing eagerly against the hard wood. And they were looping scarves on her 
wrists and knotting them and doing something beneath the tabletop. 

They released her arms and she tried to straighten, but the scarves went 
taut and held, and she realized they'd tied them on the tops of the back 
table legs. 

Millie's exertions scrubbed her belly against the table, and her breasts 
flattened and she panted. It felt good-knives of pleasure slicing into her 
and heat sweeping over her in hard-driving surges. 

There were hands on Millie's ankles and she felt her legs separated, her 
feet leaving the floor and then her ankles touching the front legs of the 
table. And something was being drawn tight, like more scarves or something, 
and she knew her ankles were being lashed to the table legs. 

"Oh, don't do that!" She pleaded. "It's too undignified. Can't we talk 
without that?" 

Tracy chuckled quietly; Millie was certain it was Tracy. 

"Talk, darling? Waste of time." 

There were hands on Millie's back, rubbing and caressing, following the 
contours of her waist. That was part of sensitivity, she remembered from the 
articles. Touch. Breaking through the 'people' barriers. And shocking one, 
of course. Like they were shocking her now, feeling her buttocks and the 
backs of her thighs so she vibrated like a violin string under the effects 
of the absinth. They weren't being very nice about it, either. The hands 
were under her skirt, sliding over the nylon of her pantyhose and upward 
onto her buttocks again inside her skirt. She twisted and saw that Tracy was 
laying her skirt up on the small of her back, exposing the pantyhose. 

"Don't do that!" Millie protested thickly. That was going too far. And that 
was Bob standing beside Tracy, his hands all over Millie's bottom. 

"Bob! For God's sake, stop that!" 

Bob grinned down at her. "Feels good, doesn't it, baby. Just what the doctor 
ordered." 

It did feel good. God, but it felt good! She couldn't help the way her hips 
surged with the hunger that flooded her. And maybe that was a good way to 
loosen things up for therapy. Never mind the way the moist heat tingled in 
her crotch. They didn't have to know about that. 

She felt fingers at the tops of the pantyhose, turning them back over the 
swell of her bottom. The fingers worked tugged the nylon over her belly, 
between it and the tabletop and rolling it over her hips. 

"No!" She screamed. "Not that! No! NO!" 

But no one paid attention to her command. Her bottom was bare and the 
pantyhose cut into her thighs, stretching across between them and leaving 
her crotch uncovered. It was really too much, even for sensitivity therapy. 
Especially with the hands that again caressed her bottom and kneaded her 
buttocks. It did things to her she couldn't fight, like making her spread 
her buttocks and wink her vulva and squirm on the drafting table. She was 
behaving like a slut and couldn't begin to control her desire. 

But the rest were being honest with her, she reflected. They'd all moved 
where she could see them. All but Bob. And they were undressing. It was a 
heady thing, watching them pull their clothes off in her living room, with 
her helpless to control her own party and writhing from the caresses on her 
bottom. If she were herself she'd be mortified. As it was, too much was 
happening for her to focus on any one thing and demand that it stop. 

"It isn't real!" she exclaimed. "You're teasing me!" 

"We wouldn't do that." Tracy's voice sounded soothing and gentle. "We're 
going to help you." 

"I don't need help! Oh, God, I just need to get back to normal!" 

"And not know? Darling, that's what's wrong between you and Tom!" 

"What's that mean?" And then, "Oof! Bob, you stop that!" His fingers were 
exploring the crevice between her buttocks, making great jolts of excitement 
stab through her. 

"Normal," said Tracy. "Having to have it normal. Being afraid to try 
anything else." 

If she'd known it could be so exciting to have her bottom stroked and mauled 
this way, maybe she'd have let Tom do it. Even if it was so terribly 
undignified to be bent over this way, Tom would have liked it, and it was 
thrilling enough to overcome her sense of propriety. She wasn't going to let 
things go any further, but she'd somehow work around to this with Tom when 
he got back. He'd blow his mind on it! 

"Okay!" she panted. "You made your point!" 

"Some of it, Millie. There's a lot more. You've got to find out how much fun 
you've been refusing. But we'll help you." 

Then they meant to do more. Good God, no! She jerked furiously at the 
lashings. If she couldn't get hold of herself, they might even rape her! The 
way she was responding to these caresses, they'd think she wanted more! They 
might even think she was willing to let them make love to her! 

She gasped as she felt fingers slipping over her labia. 

Her hips leaped violently and her arms tightened in a spasm of passion. 

She shrieked. "Don't! DON'T!" 

Wayne was beside her now and was stroking her left arm and her side. She 
felt as if his fingers were charged with electricity and the current were 
flowing through her as he worked his hands lower on her and then around her 
ribs to the side of her breast. In spite of herself, she thrust herself up 
so his hand could cup over her breast. And she realized that Paul was on the 
other side repeating the same caresses. There was no fighting the responses 
of her body; they were involuntary and immediate and uncontrollable. Her 
breath came in great sobs of desire and she knew she couldn't resist the 
rising tide of pleasure. Even the fingers that probed into the mouth of her 
vagina and rubbed along the trough between her labia produced too good a 
feeling for her to deny. 

Millie could only accept the delightful shuddering of her body and let it 
twist as it would to the demands of the fingers that teased her. And so long 
as she kept her wishes to herself no one need know what her body was crying 
for. They needn't know what those quickly stroking hands in her crotch were 
suggesting to her or how unbelievably marvelous it felt when they swept up 
along her vulva and carried her wetness into the valley between her 
buttocks. 

Right now Bob's fingers were lingering at her anus, pressing and rubbing in 
tiny circles and covering it with the slippery juice she'd oozed from her 
vagina. Deep thrills shot through her in a way she'd never before 
experienced; she'd been given excitement triggers where they had no business 
being and it was a startling and frightening thing to learn. 

The hands at her breasts squeezed and massaged and there were fingers toying 
at the rim of her vaginal mouth besides those that probed at her rectum. The 
desire within her grew and pulsed insanely and she let herself imagine how 
she must look to Tracy and Frances. With her arms stretched widely toward 
the back corners of the tabletop, her upper torso had to look like a wedge. 
Her shoulders were broad even when she relaxed in a normal posture and now 
the effect was surely heightened. But her waist was as small as always, so 
there must be a continuous tapering line from her hands to her waist. She 
knew her skirt was bunched there so the heart shape of her hips and bottom 
were fully visible, and she supposed her pubic hair must catch the light as 
it framed the swollen tissues in her crotch. But her labia felt puffed and 
spread and must wink pinkly around Bob's busy hand. 

Her bottom was thrust out and up by her position and every tightening of her 
legs must accentuate its eagerness. She had her knees bent somewhat, but 
they jerked so hard that she could feel her belly pounding against the edge 
of the table, and the tendons in the backs of her thighs must be leaping 
spasmodically. 

"Wait a minute," she heard Tracy say. "She's going to ruin those pantyhose." 

Silly, thought Millie. They were already ruined! With the way she was 
thrashing they must have sprung holes all over! But someone was loosening 
her ankles and letting her feet down so she could bring them together. And 
then there were hands sliding the pantyhose down her thighs and past her 
knees. In a moment the clinging nylon was at her ankles and being pulled 
carefully over her feet and her legs were naked. And then hands were pulling 
her feet out to the legs of the drafting table again and tying them as they 
had been before. 

There was a thing about naked legs. Maybe it was the way the air slipped 
gently over the skin of the inner sides of her thighs. But being naked from 
her waist down had a totally different feeling from having her legs sheathed 
in nylon and it removed the comforting pretense that they were just inducing 
a sense of intimacy for therapeutic purposes. Every touch was another 
message of sex now and she knew there was a secret wish for something to 
fill the emptiness of her belly. 

Neither Wayne nor Paul had interrupted the gentle manipulation of her 
breasts during the time Tracy-if it was Tracy-had been removing the 
pantyhose, and now Bob's hands were once again playing with the heated 
trough of her vulva and the tingling rim of her anus. Millie jerked her 
thighs and felt her flesh harden and loosen. The table groaned under her 
writhing and showed its strength as it accepted the strain its designer had 
never expected it to bear. She felt a wild delight at her helplessness under 
the assault that was being made and no longer cared what happened to her. 

The finger at her anus pressed harder and slipped inward past the slippery 
ring, forcing her sphincter open and stabbing into her. There was a 
momentary burning sensation that subsided and was replaced with a throbbing 
feeling of unbearable pleasure. She thrust herself back onto the intruding 
digit and wiggled her hips from side to side. Waves of sensuous 
gratification surged through her and made the room whirl giddily as the 
penetration continued. 

To Millie's dismay the finger withdrew. She groaned and squirmed and 
something was laid in the valley. It filled the space between her buttocks 
and she winked them to grasp it. Prickly hair pressed over them and a hard, 
broad wall of flesh flattened them. God, she thought, it's Bob and his penis 
is there! Right there! 

It had to be his penis filling her valley and being squeezed by her bottom, 
his belly pushing against her and his pubic hair a prickling mat between 
them. She ought to scream and plead for him to stop. But it felt too good to 
fight and she wanted that penis somewhere else. She wanted it where she'd 
never wanted anything but Tom's! And she wasn't going to let herself yield 
to that hunger! No matter how excited she was! 

But Bob had eased the pressure of his belly and she could feel the bulbous 
head of his penis sliding up and down the crevice between her buttocks and 
through the valley of her labia. Waves of dizzy joy swept over her and she 
moaned softly. She felt her fingernails biting into the palms of her hands 
and the force of her teeth clenching. Her cheek pushed onto the wood of the 
tabletop and her hips surged with wild need. She was behaving like a 
shameless bitch and feeling no resentment against the continuing probings. 

The head of Bob's penis continued wallowing in the wetness of her crotch and 
Millie held her breath for the moment when it would plunge into her. But it 
slid upward again, slick and hard, and deposited its load of lubricant onto 
her anus. She felt it rest there, a blunt knob of heat and pressure that 
threatened each instant to plunge through the tight ring of her sphincter. 
She clamped her buttocks on it and concentrated on keeping her rectum firmly 
closed, but the force against the circlet depressed her flesh as if she were 
being pushed inside out ... or outside in, she thought dazedly. 

The trouble was-and she was grasping at random thoughts to distract herself 
from the reality of the awful thing that was happening to her-the trouble 
was that she was so slippery with the juice Bob had smeared over her anus 
that there was nothing to keep the head of his penis out but the squeeze of 
her muscles. And they weren't going to be strong enough! In spite of her 
best effort, she could feel herself spreading before the pressure; his knob 
was slowly but surely edging its way in. It was wedging her rectum open a 
fraction of a millimeter at a time and there was nothing further she could 
do to prevent it. 

She felt a burning sensation at the pressure point and was certain that her 
hole would split. There wasn't any way for it to stretch any further than it 
already had. But it continued to stretch and to burn worse, and she found 
somewhere another reserve of strength to resist with. For a moment the 
inward movement stopped and she dared to breathe. And then the force on the 
bulb increased and she felt it sliding inward again. There was an instant 
when she felt her hips were being spread apart as well as her rectum and she 
flung herself backward with a desperate thrust to get the agonizing entry 
over. As she did there was a rush of sliding sensation and a great release 
of tension. The width of the ridge on the back of the head of Bob's penis 
had been replaced by the smaller size of his shaft, she thought gratefully. 
There'd be no more stretching. 

But she experienced a tremendous feeling of fullness, and her body splayed 
itself, arching and reaching so that Millie had a fleeting recollection of a 
rubber glove she'd used once. The fingers of the glove had been crumpled 
inside, and she'd held the wrist in a small, gathered circle and blown into 
the glove. Squeezing the wrist to hold the air in, she'd pressed the 
blown-up 'balloon' and the fingers had popped out, straight and rigid. She 
was like that now; her arms thrust outward and her knees straightened and 
her bottom stabbed upward while she quivered with her sense of distension. 

But the sliding stopped and Bob's belly was jammed against her bottom, the 
unyielding ridge of his pelvis crushing her flesh against her own pelvic 
bones and her tailbone and his pubic hair forming a bristling cushion 
between them. He began to pump and surges of insane delight coursed through 
her. It was good after all when she stopped squeezing and forced her 
sphincter to relax! And it wasn't as if they were actually having 
intercourse. In fact, she could enjoy it without any kind of guilt; she was 
utterly helpless to defend herself and he wasn't stealing anything from Tom. 

Flexing her knees and jerking at the loops that held her wrists, she flung 
herself backward repeatedly to meet Bob's forward lunges. Each impact jarred 
her and sent another wall of ecstasy through her. She thrust against her 
wrist lashings to raise her chest, tilting her head back to stare ahead at 
the paneling. The giddiness of approaching orgasm seized her and a haze 
blurred the details of the room. Millie thought she heard a murmur of 
comments from the spectators but the roaring inside her head drowned out 
their meaning. The pain that she'd felt in the beginning was gone entirely 
in the sea of excitement that had risen over her. 

Dry, rough hands clutched at her hips, sweeping them back and forth. Millie 
could feel the thumbs on the upper curves of her buttocks and the fingers 
curving around the fronts of her hips and of her thighs. And something 
thumped rhythmically against the pulpy tissues of her crotch; that had to be 
Bob's testicles, swinging at her like the clapper of a great bell. 

Shudders racked her as her delight mounted. Millie twisted and drove her 
bottom backward to feel the warmth of Bob's belly. A frightening contraction 
seized her vagina and made her squeeze her buttocks together. At the sudden 
pressure, there was an answering pulse of swelling in the base of Bob's 
penis and an abrupt new heat in the core of her belly. He was flooding her 
with his semen, she thought wildly. He was coming and she was starting to! 
The contractions intensified and the roaring in her head shut out all other 
sound. The haze before her eyes thickened to blot out the room and her body 
trembled violently. Bob's hands tightened on her hips and crammed her back 
against his groin and she felt a flurry of motion in the roots of his penis. 

Slowly the urgency drained from Millie's tortured frame and the frenzy of 
Bob's thrust decreased. He shuddered against her and his fingers loosened, 
letting her belly drop to the tabletop. She moaned softly in the new 
relaxation of her body, and then squeezed to expel the softening staff that 
pinioned her. It slid outward and hung up with the ridge of the head trapped 
by her ring. But she bore down and felt it squirt free with a rush. And 
laughter welled in her throat at the thought of what Bob's proud penis had 
now become. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Millie let herself collapse against the surface of the tabletop while her 
panting subsided and her heartbeat slowed. With the excitement quieting she 
had time to think of her position and her actions again and yield to renewed 
strength in her inhibitions. Revulsion nauseated her at what she'd submitted 
to and the way she'd responded. A dry sob caught at her throat and her fists 
clenched in impotent protest. These newcomers to the valley had used her for 
a plaything against her will and she'd abandoned her reserve and her 
breeding in eager acceptance of their degraded game. For a time she'd been 
as shameless as that bitch in the street this morning. 

But something was wrong. Where her excitement should gradually have 
diminished until she felt none at all she still felt a stubborn thrill at 
the way she was exposed. Instead of rage and embarrassment flooding her 
because of the way her splayed legs revealed her crotch and because of the 
crumpled ring her skirt made around her waist, she still felt tingles and a 
slow winking of her labia. It wasn't natural or right and it scared her. But 
she remembered vague snatches of conversation about aphrodisiacs and 
realized that she might have several climaxes before the effects of the 
green liquor wore off. If Tracy and the others wanted her to, that is. She 
shook off her lassitude and raised her head to look for Tracy. The tawny 
woman lolled against the mantle looking the personification of sex with her 
naked breasts jutting boldly out and the thick pubic thatch catching reddish 
glints of light. 

"Tracy...?" Millie spoke softly. 

Tracy bent toward her. "Yes?" 

"What ... what're you going to do with me now?" 

"I dunno. That's what I was thinking about." 

"Do I have to stay like this?" 

"Well, I guess not." But Tracy didn't come to untie her. "There's something 
primitive about you that way, darling. Something that appeals to me." 

"You can't possibly get away with this. How long do you think you're going 
to ... to...." 

"How long are we going to play with you?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh, tonight and tomorrow, maybe." 

"Oh, no!" It was a shriek, despite Millie's effort to repress it. "You 
can't!" 

"Why not? No one's here. Everyone knows you went to Denver with Tom." 

"But you're going to let me go sometime, aren't you?" 

"Darling! Of course!" 

"They'll arrest you when I tell." 

"You won't tell." Tracy sounded utterly confident of herself. 

"You're out of your mind!" 

"No. The valley needs our money. You need it!" 

"Money!" Money against this? Good God, it was worse than suggesting she turn 
prostitute to earn what it would take to save the corporation! There wasn't 
any amount of money that would make her submit to this kind of degradation! 
No matter how much fun it was while it was happening! "You couldn't pay 
enough to make me do this!" 

Tracy laughed good-humoredly. "Probably not. But we're doing it." 

"By force!" 

"So? There's a difference, you see. We're not buying your body; we're buying 
silence." 

There was a difference, Millie reflected. By the time she was free to expose 
these people they'd have finished whatever they meant to do to her. Nothing 
she said or anyone did could undo what she'd gone through. The best she 
could get would be revenge. And there might be money enough to make her give 
up that. But Tracy was talking again. 

"Look, Millie. You're going to get something out of this. Besides 
excitement, I mean." 

"Like what!" demanded Millie. 

"You're going to find out it's fun to do all the things we make you do. When 
you start making love with Tom you aren't going to turn him off the instant 
he touches you someplace unusual. And he's going to like screwing you 
better!" 

"Having you people do those things to me isn't going to make me any more 
willing to do them when I'm free to make a choice," muttered Millie. 

"It will unless you're a worse prude than I think." 

"Why should it?" 

"Because you won't be afraid and because you'll know how damn exciting it 
is." 

Millie squirmed and groaned quietly. She couldn't go on arguing. The 
knowledge that she was exposed and lewdly available was combining with the 
absinthe to generate a depth of desire that was driving everything else from 
her mind. And a seed of cunning had taken root in her thought. She couldn't 
prevent these people from doing what they wanted with her. In fact, they 
could more than likely make her do anything they wanted her to, which was 
something else again. But if they wanted to make her experience things she 
hadn't with Tom, maybe she could escape the one sin she couldn't ever 
forgive herself for. And that had suddenly become more important than 
anything else. No matter what else happened, she didn't want one of these 
penises in her vagina! Well, she might want it physically, but she could 
face Tom and accept his love without cringing if she'd held that one act 
sacred. Whatever happened, then, she'd force herself to cooperate so long as 
she diverted them from that one act. 

It might sound silly to anyone else, she thought, but she'd be faithful to 
Tom throughout the coming indignities if she could preserve that one thing 
that she shared with him. 

Tracy pushed away from the fireplace and came to Millie. Her fingers were 
quick and efficient as she untied Millie's wrists and Millie had to cling to 
the back of the tabletop to keep from sliding off until Tracy had her ankles 
loose. 

When her feet swung to the floor, Millie hesitated before straightening. 
From the numbness, she was afraid her legs might collapse under her weight. 
But Tracy massaged them vigorously and they began to burn as if they'd been 
asleep. And when the burning eased Millie pushed herself erect. Her skirt 
fell into place and she smoothed it self-consciously, aware of the amused 
expression in the men's eyes. Someone had removed her pantyhose from the 
room, as nearly as she could tell; they weren't anywhere to be seen, anyhow. 
And even if they'd been right there she wouldn't have made a spectacle of 
herself by putting them on it front of everyone. She crossed unsteadily to 
one of the armchairs and sank into it. At least she was reasonably protected 
from their lewd glances here. 

But there was nothing she could do to ease the insistent tension in her 
breasts and crotch. The continuing tenderness of her rectum seemed to act as 
a source of awareness and it kept her tingling and inwardly writhing. And 
when she realized that Wayne was eyeing her with a gleam of hunger in his 
expression she wriggled eagerly. She glanced at Tracy and then at Frances 
and knew that both of them recognized the gathering intent in Wayne's 
manner. They looked from him to Millie and smiled, then both rose to 
approach her. She shivered apprehensively and waited. 

There was something in Tracy's expression when she reached Millie that 
commanded her to get to her feet, and she stood between the two women hating 
herself for her sudden willingness to start again. They casually grasped her 
wrists and each drew one behind her and held it against the small of her 
back while Wayne lazily pushed himself off the couch and came forward. He 
gazed at Millie's breasts as he approached, and she felt an abrupt 
tightening around her nipples. 

Slowly and purposefully, Wayne placed his hands on her hips and rubbed, the 
material of her skirt sliding over the bare skin beneath and shooting sparks 
of excitement through her. He let his hands cup themselves over her buttocks 
and squeezed, then ran them around her and fingered the softness of her 
lower belly. Millie held her breath and sucked her belly in, but his hands 
moved deliberately upward over her front toward her breasts. When they 
reached them, his fingers curved and began to knead the fullness while he 
bent forward to kiss her. 

She warmed to the moist firmness of his lips and caught a scent of pine on 
his face. Her lips worked in response to his and she parted them at the 
gentle probing of his tongue. It was strange to be kissing someone besides 
Tom. As fond as she was of the other husbands among the valley crowd there'd 
been only rare occasions when she'd kissed them. New Year's Eve, maybe, and 
maybe a birthday or something. But for the most part she reserved her kisses 
for Tom. And even when she made an exception it wasn't the searching, hungry 
kind of kiss this one was. 

She found herself closing her eyes and turning up her face and thrusting 
greedily against Wayne's mouth, sucking at his tongue and pressing hers to 
its rough surface. And her body strained to share in the embrace, with her 
breasts quivering and her back arching to push her belly forward and her 
breasts up. Her hips were beginning to undulate and she knew that the 
involuntary responses within her were coming into play. 

Wayne broke free of the kiss and laughed quietly. He looked down at her 
still-arched body and ran his hand lightly down her front, then unbuttoned 
the top button of the dress. She flinched and twisted briefly, then forced 
herself to stand still while his fingers unfastened each button in turn. 
When he'd unbuttoned the lowest button, below her navel, he used both hands 
to push the front of the dress open, gazing approvingly at the nakedness of 
her belly and the tautness of her bra cups. And then he pushed the material 
off her shoulders and let it settle slowly down her arms to her elbows. 

Tracy and Frances silently shifted Millie's arms to let the sleeves slip 
from them and the garment dropped from her body to the floor. Wearing only 
her jewelry and her bra, Millie held herself proudly erect and tried to 
ignore Wayne's examination. But when he moved close and his hands reached 
around her to the back of her bra, she sensed that her body was betraying 
her by thrusting itself out to touch his. Wayne chuckled and pressed his 
belly to hers, trapping his upright penis between them so its hard shaft 
couched itself in a willing depression in her abdominal muscles, the head 
resting at her solar plexus. 

Millie felt the tightness of her bra vanish and the cups swing out from her 
breasts, and Tracy and Frances pulled the shoulder straps free of her 
shoulders and off her arms. With the bra on the floor, she was naked, and 
she thrilled at the knowledge. There was even a degree of thrill in seeing 
the other two men get up and come to join Wayne and the women, and she 
grunted with pleasure when they reached out and felt her cool flesh. But she 
was startled at what followed. 

Tracy and Frances brought Millie's arms from behind her back and raised 
them, resting them across their shoulders and gripping her wrists tightly. 
Bob bent to seize her left ankle and Paul her right, and they lifted her 
feet from the floor and forward until she hung face upward between them and 
the two women. Spreading her thighs brutally, each man ducked his head 
inside the angle at the back of one of her knees and pulled her foot down so 
that her legs were supported on their shoulders and around the backs of 
their necks. And Wayne went around until he was grinning at her across the 
length of her torso, his chin hidden behind the thicket of her pubic hair. 

Wild with excitement and longing, she was still humiliated at the thought of 
what Wayne could see. She fought off the recurring desire to squirm against 
the uncomfortable spreading because she knew it would look like sexual 
eagerness. And she tried to gaze unblinkingly into Wayne's eyes to prove her 
control. But embarrassment washed over her and she felt heat rise to her 
face, and then Wayne put his hands to her gaping crotch. At the first touch 
she lost her pretended composure. Her hips leaped convulsively and her back 
snapped into an arch. She saw her breasts bounce and felt Wayne's fingers 
slip over the surfaces of her labia, parting them and caressing them 
intimately. 

He bent his neck and lowered his face into the shelter of her pubic thatch, 
and she felt a new sensation between the sensitized folds that his fingers 
separated. His tongue! she thought wildly. He is licking me! Lapping at the 
trough of my vulva! I was producing unimaginable tingles over her entire 
body. Millie blew her breath through pursed lips and strained to thrust her 
thighs further apart. Her hips rose and fell erratically and her breasts 
surged back and forth over her chest. 

Her vision wasn't restricted in this position the way it had been on the 
drafting table. Her shoulders were inches above Tracy's and Frances's and 
her hips hung somewhat below the level of Bob's and Paul's shoulders, as if 
she were sitting in an invisible hammock. Except when she arched her back 
and thrust her abdomen upward, the position made the flesh of her belly fold 
horizontally, and only the swaying mounds of her breasts obstructed her 
view. She could see the top of Wayne's head and the untroubled smoothness of 
his forehead above the bush of her pubic hair, and his eyes peered into her 
face from time to time over the gleaming strands. But most of his nose was 
hidden and she could only guess at the appearance of his mouth while his 
tongue caressed the inner slopes of her labia. Nor could she see his fingers 
as they pried her folds widely apart and pressed them against the outer 
angles of her crotch. 

Wayne's tongue buried itself in the trough next to the mouth of her vagina 
and Paul and Bob joined arms beneath her bottom and pushed upward, raising 
her crotch and permitting Wayne to straighten from his stooped position. 
Millie gasped with heady delight as his tongue circled the rim of her 
vaginal mouth and flicked across the pulsing rim, and she moaned happily 
when it stabbed deeper and filled the opening with its firm warmth. 

There were sensations in sex that were subtle and others that were blatant. 
Those that normally came with penetration into the vagina were masterful and 
insistent and drove her rapidly toward her climax, but this one was gentle 
and as compliant as the tissue it touched. The pressure of his lips on the 
tender surfaces that surrounded the opening sent shivers over her and 
intensified the thrill of penetration. After tonight, she'd dream forever of 
an instrument that would reach to the furthest recess of her vaginal barrel 
with the same flexibility and gentleness that Wayne's tongue had. 

There was no such thing, she knew, and it would exist only in her 
imagination, but it would certainly exist there. 

In one way, Tracy had been completely right. The thought of anyone's putting 
his mouth to her crotch would have filled her with repugnance-gave her 
twinges of mental discomfort even now as she ached with the pleasure of 
it-but there was a degree of stimulation that she could never have believed 
possible without feeling it. And she was fast losing the sense of violation 
and embarrassment she'd felt at first when Wayne dipped his tongue to her. 

"It does ... feel ... good," she whispered to Tracy. 

"Like nothing else in the world," Tracy murmured. "Guys like it, too. Like 
bears at a honey pot." 

"Ooh-h-h!" Millie sighed at the effect of the expression. She'd heard 'honey 
pot' before, but it had been a term of derision in her mind. There'd been 
nothing to help her visualize it in the semi-reverent way she could now. 

Wayne withdrew his tongue from her vagina and stroked it upward along her 
trough, his fingertips sliding along her labia at the same time. She felt 
his fingers reach the hood that covered her clitoris and peel it back, 
exposing the delicate lump of nerves. And his tongue touched the underside 
of the tip and sent a shrieking pulse of sensation into her. She bucked 
violently, flinging herself into a high arch and flattening the angle of her 
thighs. No finger play she'd ever experienced had created such flames of 
desire or awakened the savage response that this did! Her hips lashed up and 
down and swung wildly from side to side, and Wayne's lips closed over her 
miniature penis and sucked at it while the tip of his tongue continued to 
caress its point. He pressed his face tighter to her crotch, his head riding 
smoothly with the gyrations of her hips, and Millie felt as if he were 
dragging the hardening roll of flesh out of her by the roots. 

Passion surged in her with a fierce, pounding beat and she tossed her head 
and gritted her teeth and moaned incoherently. She wrenched at the hands 
that imprisoned her wrists, desperate to free herself to push away the 
intolerable new torment. But she was still helpless to diminish Wayne's 
stimulation and could only throw herself about in the remote hope of 
dislodging him. She knew she wanted him to sustain his assault and drive her 
excitement even higher. But as her muscles jerked in the spasm that she knew 
was the prelude to her orgasm, Wayne eased the vigor of his sucking and let 
her tension decrease. She panted loudly and shook with mingled relief and 
disappointment, the hard edge of climax receding slowly. 

He continued to suck, but he refrained from massaging the quivering organ 
with his tongue and she remained just below the peak of her passion. She 
felt Tracy's arm slip beneath her back and the woman lowered her mouth to 
Millie's nipple, sucking it in and worrying it with her teeth. Millie 
glanced at Frances in embarrassment and indignation and Frances smiled and 
imitated Tracy. The tousled tawny hair and the sleekly-piled, gleaming black 
touched over Millie's chest and the two women's cheeks dimpled with the 
force of their sucking. Millie felt her nipples tighten and pucker even 
though they were already stiffly erect, and the new stimulus blended with 
that at her crotch to make her moan. 

Wayne released his finger grip on her tissues and thrust his hands beneath 
her buttocks beside Bob's and Paul's arms. The men spread her thighs still 
further apart while her crotch was elevated and rotated more directly into 
Wayne's face. He nibbled at her clitoris with his teeth, setting her nerves 
on edge and wrenching a guttural cry of eagerness from her, and something 
that she knew had to be his chin jammed into the depression around the mouth 
of her vagina. 

Millie let her head hang back and slammed her body upward to its tightest 
arch, her fingers clawing to find flesh to claw. She tugged at her legs, 
bending her knees to hug the two men's necks, and pointed her toes inward. 
Bands of constriction circled her chest and she swallowed furiously while 
the roaring of impending orgasm rose in her head. 

But again Wayne eased the force of his sucking and stopped her before she 
could achieve the relief of a climax, and she groaned in frustration and let 
herself sag. Tracy and Frances raised their heads and both smiled at Millie. 
There was such a light of affection in their expressions that she had to 
smile back at them. She did, realizing that it was more of a grimace than a 
smile. And their arms tightened momentarily in recognition of her effort. 

Wayne let her clitoris slide out of his mouth and thrust his tongue into the 
trough of her vulva again. She sighed happily at the sudden end of the 
jangling sensations in the tiny organ and the deeper pulses of response that 
the new contact aroused. His tongue probed from side to side as it worked 
down the length of the trough to the mouth of her vagina and then thrust 
inward through the gulping rim. He pressed his face hard against her flesh 
and opened his mouth widely, sucking in a great mouthful of pulpy tissue 
until she felt as if all the meat of her labia was bunched inside the wet 
cavern and packed around his tongue. He sucked and chewed noisily and drove 
his tongue deeply into her, and a wild, unique sensation caught at Millie 
and made the muscles of her belly knot and jerk. 

She drew a single deep breath and held it. Her head shook and her arms and 
legs hardened in a spasm that refused to relax. Her buttocks winked together 
and her neck stiffened as the tumult of sensation in her crotch heightened. 
Savage contractions ripped at the core of her belly and clutched her vagina 
and a ferocious tremor enveloped her. She thought she heard a primitive, 
undulating yell and realized dimly that it was her own. And she hung 
motionless except for a slow writhing of her hips as the contractions in her 
belly surged inward from her vaginal rim in relentless procession. 

At last her rigidity began to slacken and the room slowed its whirling. 
Wayne's mouth relaxed as her frenzied shudders decreased, and he raised his 
head and grinned, his wet muzzle the first thing her clearing vision focused 
on. 

"My God," she whispered. "I've never felt that way before!" 

"Didn't hurt, did it." There was no hint of question in Wayne's tone. 

"No. Oh, Wayne, it felt goo-oo-ood!" She shivered in the middle of the word. 

Wayne laughed sympathetically. "Do a hell of a lot with the mouth you can't 
with anything else. 

Pretty special sex weapon, baby." 

His was, she decided'. But he didn't sound exactly as if that was what he 
meant. Well, Tom's would have been every bit as good; and that was probably 
what Wayne had in mind. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

While her overwrought fibers tremblingly released their spasmodic tensions 
and her breathing quieted, Millie continued to hang in her hammock-like 
position. The two women held her wrists, each of them using one hand for the 
purpose, and kept their arms around her back, easing the pull of her 
shoulders. The men-Bob and Paul-retained their hold on her ankles and 
supported some of her weight with their hands under her buttocks. She became 
slowly aware of a subdued but light-hearted conversation among the four and 
felt tempted to float in the atmosphere of their mood rather than 
acknowledge the stark reality of her sexual surrender. 

But when the disorientation of her excitement had faded she realized that 
for some time Wayne had been stroking her body and her thighs. His hands 
caressed her with a soothing effect and without dwelling on erogenous zones, 
so the effect was a quieting, calming one. In a way, she thought, it was 
like an infinitely tender massage. And it contributed to her general sense 
of well-being and security. 

It was curious that she could feel security under the circumstances, she 
reflected-or even think of the word. And yet she did feel that; she felt as 
if she were surrounded by attendants whose sole mission was her comfort and 
pleasure. No amount of effort could revive her tight-lipped score of 
impropriety at this moment nor her anger at Tracy's assumption that she and 
hers knew what was best for someone else. 

She ought to be feeling light-headed and incoherent if those natural 
attitudes were blocked out, Millie told herself. But she didn't; she felt 
superbly alert and her senses were sharp and clear. If the absinthe was 
still dominating her it was acting on her nerves and her involuntary system, 
not at a conscious level. She had no trace of intoxication left, unless 
feeling good and ignoring the indignity and lewdness of her position could 
be called that. Certainly there was none of the disconnected sensation that 
she normally associated with being even a little bit drunk. 

"Hey, Millie's about all relaxed," Wayne announced. And he smiled at her. 
"Baby, you recover about as fast as any broad I ever met!" 

She grinned in spite of herself. 

"All relaxed all right," commented Tracy. "Too much." 

"Yeah." Bob's tone was teasing. "Too much, I'd say. Maybe she's getting 
ready to faint." 

"Better get her head down," counseled Paul. 

"Of course, of course!" Tracy and Frances acted together, easing their arms 
clear of Millie's back and working her arms off their shoulders. They 
lowered her head and shoulders until she hung by her legs in Bob's and 
Paul's grip, her head at mid-thigh level on them. Panicking momentarily, she 
seized their thighs with her arms and clung to them. But she felt no 
slippage in their grasp and knew that she was safe from falling. And an 
impish impulse leaped into her mind and overwhelmed the abortive surge of 
outrage that stirred to meet it. 

Releasing their legs she caught each man's semi-erect penis in one of her 
hands like a handle. "Better not drop me," she warned with a laugh. She felt 
a twinge of horror at herself for such irreverence and then gladly accepted 
the giddy rush of abandon that replaced it. 

The two thick organs hardened and swelled in her grasp and she squeezed 
speculatively, twisting her neck to see the effect of her bold action. Bob's 
thighs seemed to tighten and he held himself still. Paul jerked backward 
reflexively then steadied and thrust himself forward. And after a moment 
Bob's hips began to pump gently and she stroked her circled hand back and 
forth along the length of his shaft. 

"Hey, wait a minute!" Wayne protested. "Hell, I do all the work and these 
two guys get the bonus!" 

"Poor thing," cooed Millie. "My Goodness. He's being neglected." She let go 
of the two twitching instruments and clasped her hands. 

The men placed their arms at her back and partially raised her. Betiding, 
they let her remove her legs from their shoulders and set her feet on the 
floor. She distrusted her knees and sank in front of the couch, curling her 
legs beneath her. Wayne flung himself on the couch before her and reached 
out to finger her hair. 

"You're a good sport, Millie," he said softly. "You're our kind." 

"No one's hurt me," she said. Then she added, " ... much, anyhow. Or been 
mean." She leaned against the cushions and startled herself by laying her 
hand on the livid bulk of Wayne's penis. "It feels left out," she murmured 
in confusion. 

"Sure does!" replied Wayne. "But that makes him feel better. " There was a 
note of contentment in his voice. 

She laughed self-consciously and stroked his penis with her open hand as if 
she were petting a kitten. There was a thin film of liquid on the underside 
of the head surrounding the slit, and when she put her fingertip to it and 
began to spread it she decided it felt like sewing machine oil-only maybe a 
tiny bit stickier. The bulges on each side of the slit were smooth and 
shiny, but further out on the surface of the head the skin looked pebbled 
and velvety. She bent closer to study it and shook off the annoying 
awareness that she'd never given any such attention to Tom's penis. She'd 
have to now; she'd have to find out if it was the same as Wayne's or not. 

Wayne stretched, hands under head, and watched her curiously. But she 
ignored him and concentrated on his massive probe that might well wind up 
thrust into her before her weird adventure was over. I'd have thought, she 
reflected, that the slit ought to be at the very tip of the head. But 
there's a big blunt nose ahead of it and maybe that makes sense for doing 
the heavy work of leading the penis into the cavity. Millie explored the 
edge of his slit with her finger pad and found that mild pressure pulled the 
tiny mouth open to reveal a smooth-walled crater. And then she returned to 
drawing small, wet circles on the main knob of the head. 

At the back of the bulb was a rib that ran around it, fluted and thick and 
hard, and then the sudden under-cut to the diameter of the shaft. The ridge 
was interrupted in line with the slit as if it were rolled out of a flat 
piece and joined there, and a taut fold of skin stretched back from there to 
the body of the shaft. Millie stroked the tight piece of skin and discovered 
that it felt as taut as it looked and was sensitive enough to make Wayne 
tense as she caressed it. She was engrossed in her exploration by now and 
forgot the humiliation she'd have felt normally at touching a man's penis. 

She fingered the shaft gingerly and then closed her hand around it to feel 
it better. The side that lay against his belly felt like a bone encased in 
unattached skin, and she raised the organ to see what the top side was like. 
The underlying hardness was like a shell, she decided, ribbed and rough, 
with great veins lying between it and the covering skin. But it left a wide 
gap on the underside, and a great bulge protruded through the gap and pulsed 
strongly. 

Millie's methodical exploring and touching produced an erratic flurry of 
twitches and jerks in the penis and she knew from the tightly controlled way 
Wayne breathed that her attentions were arousing his excitement. His thighs 
had tensed and quivered with the muscles standing out rigidly, and his belly 
was ridged with the intensity of his concentration. She stroked the length 
of his penis, still with her fingertips, starting at the head and sliding 
them through the slippery coating onto the shaft and continuing to the base. 
Each stroke brought an abrupt jerk to the heavy organ and made it stand away 
from his belly, and at the end of the stroke when she lifted her fingers the 
shaft fell back to lie on him again. But now there was an irregular 
flinching in the ridged muscle of the underside even when she wasn't 
touching him, and it reminded her of her own reflex tensings in the middle 
stages of excitement. 

Wayne was thoroughly aroused, she told herself with a sudden sense of 
awareness. He was thoroughly aroused and full of a need for release. When 
she stopped playing with his penis he'd insist on discharging the pressure 
she'd helped build and she'd be the one he discharged it into. He might 
consent to repeating Bob's rectal entry or he might ignore her protests and 
plant the engorged shaft into her vagina where only Tom's belonged. But she 
could at least delay that choice if she could drive him into an orgasm by 
continuing to play with him! She had to try! 

Millie again closed her fingers around the shaft and began to stroke gently 
up and down its length. With her other hand she started rubbing the 
velvet-textured surface of the head. Wayne's thigh tendons jumped at the new 
assault and his body twisted slowly. Hidden muscles in his scrotum pulled 
his testicles toward the base of his penis and his hips surged upward from 
the cushions. It might work, she thought. It just might work! 

But it would take every skill she had to make him submit to hand-induced 
orgasm in front of his wife and friends. She was sure of that. She'd have to 
assume an aggressive role unlike anything she'd ever tried before and she'd 
have to carry it out without a chance to start over! 

She goaded herself into a tender manner and bent forward with her breasts 
pressed against the front of the couch. She kissed Wayne's thigh and then 
his hip, letting her lips linger and even daring to touch his skin with the 
tip of her tongue. He flinched at the touch and laid his hand in her hair 
with a soft caress. She heard his grunt and made herself believe it was one 
of appreciation and excitement, and her stroking continued in its even, 
gently rhythm. Millie moved her mouth from spot to spot over the side of 
Wayne's body, then rose to her knees and let her breasts rest against him 
while she bent over and kissed his belly. It was strange and pleasurable to 
feel the fine hairs brushing her face and to press past them with her lips 
to his flesh. And it was delightfully different to pause at his navel and 
dart the tip of her tongue into it to explore its depression. 

There was no doubt that she had him hooked for the moment. His fingers dug 
at her scalp and his other hand clenched at his side until the knuckles were 
white. He was breathing fast and muttering between set teeth in a monotonous 
tone. "Easy, baby ... easy there." 

To her astonishment, her activity was affecting her at the same time as it 
did him. Her crotch tingled hotly and her own breath came raggedly and she 
couldn't help rubbing her nipples against his flesh. Millie's fingers 
tightened involuntarily on his penis from time to time and an occasional 
stroke was hard and sudden instead of even and gentle. She felt a powerful 
urge to climb onto the couch and press her belly to him while she stroked, 
but she knew that if she got herself into that kind of position it would be 
easy for him to twist her about until he could bury his hungry penis in her. 
Instead of yielding to her impulse Millie tightened her buttocks and thrust 
her groin forward against the bulge of the couch. She ground herself on the 
stiff upholstery and kissed with her Ups parted, her tongue scrubbing his 
wet skin and dragging at the hair that curled on it. 

She liked it when Tom sucked at her, she reflected. Of course that was her 
nipples-or with Wayne, her clitoris and labia-but maybe Wayne would react to 
a sucking type kiss. So she began to suck at his flesh as she kissed and 
Wayne groaned softly and squirmed beneath her face. She shifted her position 
enough to enable her to stroke his penis with one hand and finger his 
testicles. They seemed to slip away from her touch as if they had their own 
way of moving, sliding past each other in the loose bag that held them and 
shrinking from her to bulge somewhere else. She was intrigued by their 
movement and worked her hand under Wayne's balls to cradle them in her palm, 
where they continued to jerk to the movements of her other hand on his 
penis. 

Wayne caressed her at the small of her back and Millie jammed herself harder 
against the upholstery and undulated her hips. His fingers slipped downward 
onto her buttocks to knead them with a slow, demanding pressure, and she 
forgot herself and slid her knees apart to separate her thighs. He reached 
under the swell of her bottom and probed at the hollows beside her inner 
thigh tendons and Millie moaned softly as she nibbled at the flesh on his 
belly. He was making it hard to concentrate on what she was doing and he 
might even make her forget herself and clamber onto him! 

As her own desire grew she stroked faster and squeezed harder on his penis 
and it darkened and swelled at the head. The slit was open now and Millie 
could look into its dark barrel at the muscle-lined interior. She struggled 
against her habitual inhibitions and brought her face close to Wayne's 
penis, extending her tongue hesitantly to the rim of Wayne's slit. Wayne's 
body stiffened and straightened and his hand stopped moving, as if she'd 
paralyzed him. She withdrew her tongue and rolled it in her mouth to analyze 
the taste of the drying fluid she'd disturbed. It was a flat, slightly 
metallic flavor that was a subtle imitation of the scent that now hovered 
over Wayne's crotch. It didn't make her feel nauseous and she was encouraged 
to repeat her action to regain the initiative that Wayne's groping fingers 
had wrested from her. But this time she wasn't hesitant. She touched the 
slit and explored its rim and then cautiously probed into the opening to 
feel the marvelous smoothness of the inner walls. Wayne bucked unashamedly 
at the probing and grunted loudly. 

Millie paused and raised her head. 

"Hurt, honey?" she asked solicitously. 

"Naw! Christ, it feels good!" 

"Oh." She lowered her head and probed again, and then she licked at the 
greater bulge of the head, itself, while her hand increased its tempo and 
force. The fingers between her labia moved erratically, tightening and 
relaxing without apparent direction, and she was able to repress the more 
violent reactions that her touch might have induced. But she had to admit 
that she was thoroughly excited and savage. She had a desire to bite and had 
to fight herself to keep from closing her teeth on the tempting knob that 
leaped in her hand. 

She held the tortured shaft in a vertical position and battered the side of 
her palm against Wayne's pelvic arch at the bottom of each stroke, pounding 
him fiercely. But he made no protest. His hips bounced on the cushion and 
his legs spraddled to make room for the hand that cradled his testicles. He 
was panting loudly and groaning with pleasure and she was confident that 
she'd be able to make him come before he could think about pulling her onto 
him. 

As his passion intensified Wayne began to roll from side to side and his 
hand clutched at her with increasing force. Millie stumbled to her feet, her 
bottom thrust upward and her knees stiff. Wayne thrust his fingers into the 
aching mouth of her vagina and pumped them, his thumb grubbing at the 
surrounding tissues and settling on the swelling of her clitoris. Her own 
excitement was reaching dangerous levels again, and when his other hand 
groped at her breasts and cupped one to massage it Millie gasped and 
stiffened. Her feet were thrust indecently far apart and her hips were 
gyrating wildly to the urging of the deep stabbing hand, but she doggedly 
beat on Wayne's penis and kept the tip of her tongue at the head. With the 
growing violence of Wayne's responses she had to steady herself to maintain 
contact and she pressed her open lips in a circle around the bulky slopes of 
his knob. She could no longer restrict her licking to the tip of her tongue, 
but she lapped hard with its broader upper surface and sensed a quick jump 
in Wayne's activity. Her hand now squeezed cruelly and she pounded as fast 
as she could. Releasing his testicles she closed her other hand around the 
shaft and jerked with both while his buttocks leaped from the cushion and 
fell back repeatedly. 

It seemed brutal treatment and she wondered briefly if he'd be bruised or 
even seriously injured by the harsh handling. But if it caused pain he made 
no complaint; his hands worked harder at her and his body writhed and 
twisted, and exclamations of pleasure tumbled from his open lips. 

Millie became aware of Tracy as the other came close and knelt at Wayne's 
head. The tawny woman's body caught the light in sensuous patterns over taut 
muscles and she leaned forward to hold her writhing husband's head in her 
arms, her breasts pressing against his neck and the top of his head. Then 
she bent her neck and groped at his mouth with hers and Millie saw their 
tongues sliding voraciously over each other. 

Frances dropped beside Tracy and grinned at Millie. "Beautiful, doll! Keep 
it up!" She laid her hands on Wayne's body and pressed her face to his chest 
to suck at one of his dark nipples. 

With the help she was getting Millie knew now Wayne would reach his orgasm 
without forcing himself into her, and she drew her head back and watched her 
own strenuous actions. Her hands grasped his shaft as she'd seen a man hold 
a digging bar and they slammed up and down its length. The skin of his penis 
slid with her hands, snapping viciously at the bottom of each stroke and 
making the head jerk. His testicles bounced against his crotch and appeared 
to slide from one end of his sac to the other with each of her strokes. His 
knees were drawn up like tents and flung widely apart, while his heels dug 
into the cushion and his toes splayed rigidly. 

Suddenly she let go of his penis with one hand and thrust her fingers 
beneath his scrotum and into the crevice between his buttocks. She rubbed 
and probed, finding the tightly puckered ring of his anus and pressing at 
it. If that had excited her so terribly perhaps it would add to Wayne's 
lust; there was no reason to believe women were unique in their possession 
of erogenous nerves there. In a small way Millie could reverse the tables on 
her 

"captors" while Wayne was helplessly immersed in his passion. 

She reached to her own crotch and twisted her finger about in the goo that 
surrounded Wayne's buried hand, bringing it away dripping with the slippery 
fluid and returning it to his crack. Pressing and twisting the finger she 
forced its tip into the hard circle of his sphincter and drove it inward. 
His hips leaped convulsively and his buttocks clamped painfully on her hand, 
but she pushed harder and jerked more viciously at his penis. She managed to 
bury her entire finger in his gulping rectum and then started to jerk it 
back and forth in the same rhythm as she was using in stroking his penis. He 
bridged himself on the couch, his back arched and his buttocks well off the 
cushion, and swung his hips wildly from side to side. His penis swelled 
suddenly and startlingly and seemed to harden impossibly. And his entire 
body shook as if he had a savage fever. 

Frances straightened and studied Millie with an astonished expression. "God, 
doll! What're you doing? He's going to...." She stopped and stared at the 
hand that disappeared beneath the surging scrotum. Her perplexity gave way 
to wise understanding a sort of admiration. "He's right there," she said 
softly. "He's going to come." 

"Good." Millie grunted. Her breasts were leaping beneath her bent body and 
her hips were twisting fiercely around the pivot that Wayne's buried hand 
provided. She was standing on the balls of her feet, her knees straight and 
her legs achingly rigid. He had to come soon or she'd collapse! 

"All over everything," Frances added. "A pity to waste it." 

"Huh?" Millie was puzzled. 

"Let me, doll." Frances turned her head sideward and thrust her face down 
toward the bobbing penis head. Opening her mouth widely, she took the 
purpled head into it and began to suck at it. Millie shuddered and pumped on 
it harder. 

Wayne yelled in his throat and bucked aimlessly. There was a sudden pulsing 
at the base of his penis and a rhythmic squeezing that Millie knew was his 
semen spurting through the passage. She pounded wildly and Wayne fell back 
on her digging finger. His buttocks winked with each pulse of his penis and 
Millie saw Frances tremble and gulp with desperate swallows. Wayne kicked 
his feet out straight and lay in a state of total rigidity, groaning and 
choking, and Tracy covered his face and his throat with quick, passionate 
kisses. 

At last he seemed to reach the end of his reservoir of jism and stopped 
winking his buttocks. He fell limply and exhaled with a moaning sigh, then 
went soft everywhere. Frances withdrew her lips from the head of his penis 
with a final sucking motion as if it were a lollipop, and Millie released 
the grip of her hand on it and tugged her other finger from his rectum. His 
arm had relaxed at the same time and his hand slowly slipped out of her 
vagina. She straightened and stared down at his exhausted body and his 
motionless face. He looked as if he were asleep or unconscious, except that 
he blew his breath out through pursed lips and then closed them to suck it 
back in through distended nostrils. But he finally opened his eyes and 
focused his gaze on her. 

"Sonovabitch, baby! Got more'n I bargained for that time! You're a goddamn 
mink!" 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Millie wondered briefly what would have happened if Tracy and Frances hadn't 
joined the exercise. But she knew intuitively that the major factors had 
been her manipulation of his penis and the experimental thrust into his 
rectum. She'd happened upon that reversal of roles by accident this time; if 
she needed to use it again she'd know its effectiveness! 

She staggered away from the couch and sank into one of the armchairs. She 
didn't care about her nakedness; the things they'd done tonight were so 
shocking and lewd that being one of a group of nudes was meaningless. The 
most compelling fact of the evening was her certainty that the orgy was far 
from being over. She'd participate in more than one weird perversion before 
they left her alone in the house. And she'd do it without struggling because 
there was no way struggling could help her. Maybe the worst thing about it 
was not that she was letting things happen to her-and making herself do 
things to the others-that her carefully nurtured inhibitions would have 
prohibited under any other circumstances, but that each thing that happened 
was so terribly much fun! 

Tracy and the others made that aspect of the experience doubly hard to deal 
with. If they'd make smutty remarks and tittered lewdly so everything would 
seem dirty and repulsive, it'd be easy to preserve an inner determination 
that this was to be a once-only, never-to-be-recalled violation of her 
decent scruples. But they didn't. They acted openly happy and excited by 
what they were doing and made no distinction between the "normal" things and 
the most unnatural ones. Every act that provided sexual stimulus seemed 
equally acceptable to them and their enthusiasm and easy cooperation 
suggested that they'd encountered nothing out of the ordinary. 

That meant she'd have a hard time drawing a line between new kinds of 
activity she'd be willing to practice with Tom and the ones that were too 
far out to be repeated ever. She knew she'd make up rules in the 
dispassionate quiet of the day and then forget them in the heat of sexual 
play. And the awareness disturbed her without bringing the frightened 
reaction it should have. She felt as if something within her were accepting 
facts without judgment-as if an unfamiliar side of her nature were calmly 
assuming the guiding role her "conscience" had always filled. 

But there was activity again and she abandoned her mental argument to watch 
it. Frances had lowered herself to the couch and lounged with her body 
half-draped over Wayne's, her fingers absently caressing his unresponding 
body. Tracy stood in the center of the room with Bob and Paul teasing them. 

"You two haven't done much," she was saying. 

Bob protested. "Haven't done much, for Christ's sake! Whaddya call that ride 
I had!" 

"Buggering," replied Tracy lightly. "Poor girl had no way to protect 
herself. Might as well have been a knothole." 

"Pretty lively for a knothole." Bob grumbled. "Keep it up, dear sister, and 
you'll wind up spinning on my dick, yourself." 

"After watching all the excitement, it'd take more than that to unwind me," 
Tracy said with spirit., Bob grabbed for her and she let him catch her, 
flinging herself against him and scrubbing her belly against his. She bit at 
his neck and dug her nails into his buttocks until he yelled. But his hands 
moved quickly over her sinuous body and probed at soft spots until she 
writhed. They were a striking pair as they twisted together, Millie 
observed. Both had tawny skin, although Bob's was far darker than his 
sister's. And there was a strong resemblance in their builds. No one would 
have thought of Tracy as being even remotely masculine, of course, or of Bob 
as being feminine. But they had the same kind of grace and long-limbed 
agility and the same quick movements. 

Paul chuckled at their wrestling and lazily thrust his hand between Tracy's 
thighs to clutch at the folds of her crotch. The woman stiffened and rose to 
her tiptoes, then dropped back and wallowed on the intruding hand. 

"Maybe ... that'd do it ...!" She gasped. "I could handle an army right now, 
but the two of you might have what it'll take!" 

The men exchanged a sharp, amused glanced over Tracy's head and grinned 
broadly. 

"Think we might, baby sister?" mocked Bob. "Maybe." 

"Well, wouldn't hurt to try." 

"No." Paul sounded too grave. "Mustn't pass up a chance to prove our 
adequacy." 

They turned Tracy between them, each slipping an arm between one of her arms 
and her body and around her back. And with their free hands they began to 
stroke her front with easy, teasing caresses. Tracy shut her eyes and tilted 
her head back with a happy smile. 

"Mmm! That's a nice way to start," she murmured. 

Bob rubbed his open hand in broad circles on her lower abdomen and Paul 
pushed first one of her breasts upward and then the other. He rolled each 
nipple gently between his fingers and coaxed them to a startling erection 
while Bob's fingers traced invisible but intricate patterns on Tracy's 
belly. She parted her feet widely and thrust them forward, leaning back on 
the support of the two arms and resting her hands on the men's shoulders. 
Her head rolled slowly from side to side, her hair swishing across her back 
so its ends swung into view first at one side and then the other. 

Her skin was glowing with highlights as it glistened with a film of 
perspiration. Her flesh dipped inward below her lowest ribs and tapered to 
her slender waist. Her hips flared outward from there in a continuous line 
with her outstretched thighs, and her lower abdomen swelled delicately below 
the dark, elongated depression of her navel in a provocative bulge above the 
generous, reddish bush that covered her love mound. She must be quite 
excited, thought Millie, to judge from the fullness of the pink folds that 
were apparent where her pubic hair bristled in her crotch. 

Bob's fingers wandered downward into the thicket of pubic hair and tugged at 
stray wisps of it. Tracy wiggled her hips and puffed softly between her 
lips, rising to her tiptoes then settling onto her heels time after time. 
The muscles in her belly seemed to crawl beneath her skin like snakes coiled 
in a basket and her chest began to heave with her labored breathing. She 
brought her head forward and peered quickly at each of the men. 

"You guys better have it!" she warned. "You're turning me on!" 

Bob chuckled wickedly. "Shit, baby! You'll beg for mercy!" 

"Talk's cheap." Tracy hissed. "Save it for the senoritas! It's going to take 
something big and round and hard for me!" 

Bob's fingers slipped over the fullness of Tracy's mound and curled inward 
to her clitoris. He pressed and rubbed rapidly and Tracy flung her head back 
and jerked her thighs together. Both men laughed. Bob withdrew his fingers 
and resumed the gender massage of the hair mound and Tracy again thrust her 
legs apart. 

As if they'd planned it, each man hooked the back of his heel over one of 
her ankles, dragging her legs apart. They turned to face her sides and 
clamped their knees over her widespread thighs. Bob dipped his hand again to 
her clitoris and began to massage it with firm, circular strokes. 

Tracy jerked violently and wrenched against the restraint of her legs, but 
she was helpless in the men's grasp and couldn't escape the persistent 
rubbing. She babbled brokenly and flung herself from side to side, but froze 
in quivering stillness when the two male heads were lowered to her breasts 
and two mouths seized her nipples and started to suck. 

Millie rose shakily from her chair and went closer to see exactly what Paul 
and Bob were doing to the straining woman, her own crotch twitching with 
suppressed desire and her hands wet with the sweat of her palms. Tracy's 
belly drew back as she apparently tried to pull away from the intolerable 
stimulus at her crotch, then pushed outward like a full sail as she thrust 
it forward and ground herself on the pressing fingers. She moaned and cried 
out and her hips danced wildly. Paul's hand rubbed slowly down over her taut 
belly and past Bob's, and his fingers groped among the folds of Tracy's 
labia. 

Millie saw that Bob and Paul were again exchanging glances. They released 
their hold on Tracy's legs and removed their hands from her crotch. Quickly, 
they dropped to the floor, carrying her with them and laying her on her back 
on the carpet. Each of them lay on his side facing her, propping himself on 
one elbow and pinning one of her outstretched arms to the floor. And each 
man again caught one of her legs and clamped it between his thighs. They 
began again at Tracy's breasts, massaging them and tweaking the puckered 
nipples with their fingers. 

Tracy had lost little of her excitement during the maneuver as nearly as 
Millie could tell. She writhed and tossed in their grasp and her head rolled 
about in agitation. She used the leverage of her imprisoned legs to raise 
her hips, driving herself into the air and then dropping abruptly back to 
the carpet. Paul drew his head back and let his gaze wander fondly over 
Tracy's body. Millie felt a wave of tingling hunger as she stared at the 
long, swollen nipple and the coating of saliva that shone on the exposed 
breast. Her flesh was crimson from Paul's suction and the friction of his 
hours-old beard. And the light pink aureole mounded beneath her nipple, its 
surface studded with tiny bumps like "goose flesh". 

Paul seized Tracy's thigh with his hand and relaxed the grip of his own 
legs. He pulled her knee upward along his body and clamped her thigh under 
his arm, then began to stroke the back of her leg. Tracy undulated her hips, 
her crotch spread until her labia gaped and the mouth of her vagina formed a 
yawning dark hole. Paul plucked at the distended folds of tissue and drew 
his fingers along the bottom of the gleaming trough, while Tracy twisted and 
bucked. 

Bob glanced up from where he continued to suck at his sister's other nipple 
and took in the new scene. He raised his head and grinned joyously, reaching 
for Tracy's other leg. He pulled her knee up and held it as Paul was holding 
the right one, pressing so Tracy's thigh was lying against her belly and her 
side. The new position startled Millie, because it rotated Tracy's crotch so 
it pointed upward with the mouth of her vagina gaping like the top of a 
waiting cup. Her outer labia were thick, puffy rolls of flesh that lay 
against the taut ridges at the backs of her thighs, the meeting cushioned by 
a disordered mat of pubic hair; their inner surfaces smooth and dark red. 
Between them, spread like petals of a pithy tropical orchid, Tracy's inner 
labia formed lips for the trough that funneled to the gulping mouth of her 
vagina. 

Both men teased the quivering tissues. They slid their fingers over the 
pulpy inner slopes of the outer labia while Tracy pumped her bottom 
desperately up and down. And they caressed the edges of the inner petals 
lightly and watched her thrash with desire. They traced the circular rim of 
the hungry mouth at the center of the flower and spread the thick 
mucous-like fluid that oozed from it. Bob passed his fingers downward to the 
tiny orifice of Tracy's rectum, teasing it as she tried unsuccessfully to 
pull her buttocks together and probing with his middle finger until the 
puckered sphincter began to relax. Paul worked his fingers forward to 
Tracy's clitoris and gently stroked its sides so Tracy lashed upward with 
her hips and cried out in delirious pleasure. 

Bob's fingers forced the entry to Tracy's rectum, slipping inward to the 
knuckle while his hand twisted slowly and rotated back and forth. The girl 
shuddered violently at the penetration and then drove herself onto the thick 
digit. It seemed obvious to Millie that the experience was nothing new to 
Tracy-that it was one she knew thoroughly and enjoyed without fear. But when 
Bob twisted his hand to wet his index finger in the plentiful lubricant in 
Tracy's crotch and then forced that finger into her rectum beside the other, 
it shook Millie severely. She caught her breath and tightened her belly 
convulsively, her own rectum aching in sympathetic reaction. 

Still, Tracy showed no sign of discomfort. Her movements grew wilder and her 
moans sounded intensely happy, with no trace of pain or reluctance for Bob 
to continue. He kept rotating his hand back and forth as his fingers slid in 
and out and Tracy's bottom surged powerfully with the motion. When his 
sister was pounding against his hand with complete abandon, Bob wet his ring 
finger and thrust it into her with the other two. Her flesh darkened and 
stretched to shiny tautness and she gave a low, guttural cry, but she still 
appeared to be in no discomfort. 

Paul's fingers stripped back the hood of her clitoris and began to massage 
the stiff little organ in small circles. Tracy's tendons snapped and jerked 
and her belly wrinkled with her writhing. Her entire body was fluid with her 
seething reactions and her moans and gasps came in a chaotic jumble. Millie 
realized that Bob's little finger had joined the other three in Tracy's 
rectum and that he was very slowly forcing his hand inward. The knuckles 
disappeared and only his thumb remained outside in the incredibly stretched 
valley between her buttocks. And Tracy thrust herself onto the brutal hand 
and looked as if she were on the verge of coming. 

She must have an unbelievable capacity for sexual stimulus, thought Millie 
in awe. She'd tolerated far more foreplay than Millie could imagine 
accepting, herself, and the intensity of the tawny woman's reactions was 
still growing. But surely there had to be a point where everything in her 
would reach a boil and plunge her into her orgasm! It just wasn't human for 
anyone to take what she was without a climax! 

"Omigod, guys!" Tracy cried out. "I can't take any more! NOW, PLEASE!" 

Bob's hand eased out of his sister and Paul stopped rolling her flaming 
clitoris and released her tightly pinioned arm and her leg. She uttered a 
great, gusty groan and scrambled onto her brother, straddling him as he fell 
onto his back and kneeling over him with her heels against her buttocks. 
Finding the head of his penis with the mouth of her vagina she plunged onto 
it until their pubic hair was matted together. Then she thrust her legs 
awkwardly backward and straightened them outside him. Paul surprised Millie 
by rolling to his knees and lowering himself over Tracy, where he laid the 
head of his penis between her fast-winking buttocks. As if she had waited 
for his approach, Tracy spread the cheeks and raised her bottom to him. He 
thrust down and forward and drove his penis into her rectum to the hilt. 
Tracy sighed and flattened herself on Bob, her mouth working at his shoulder 
and her hands groping at his sides. Sandwiched between the two men she 
surged and bucked, alternately tightening her buttocks and spreading them. 
And suddenly she raised her legs from the floor and clamped them together on 
top of Bob's. 

She lifted her head and stared with bulging eyes at Wayne, her neck corded 
and her mouth wide as if she were silently screaming. There were great 
droplets of perspiration on her face and her body shook. A low, fierce moan 
undulated from her lips and its pulsing brought hard spasms to Millie's 
crotch. Tracy's orgasm was as heroic as her build-up, Millie conceded. When 
the woman did come, it was an awesome spectacle. Even with Paul's weight 
pressing her onto Bob and two bulging penises buried in her she ground her 
hips in slow, jerky circles while her contractions racked her. And the 
slow-motion drama went on and on as if it would never end. 

At last Tracy dropped forward and her body began to go limp. Her legs 
slipped apart and lay outside Bob's and her hands slid away from his sides, 
her arms extending loosely. Her buttocks flattened beneath Paul and she laid 
her cheek on Bob's chest. 

"Oh, my!" whispered the spent Tracy. "Oh, my!" 

Bob grunted. "Had enough, baby sister?" 

She nodded and squirmed. "For now." She was still whispering. 

"Don't have to call the army?" 

"Oh, Bob, for heaven's sake!" 

Paul laughed. "What has it about cheap talk, Tracy?" 

"You two guys would have talked all night. I got action, didn't I?" She 
squirmed again with a contented whimper. 

"You lose a load?" Paul asked Bob. 

"Naw. She blew off too fast." Bob snorted. "How about you, man?" 

"Same here. Frances, how about gettin' it off for us?" 

Frances smiled languorously and stretched. "Why not? Wayne, you want a piece 
of the fun, too?" 

"Yeah, I'm ready after watching that last bit!" Millie listened aghast. If 
she understood the drift of the conversation Frances was blithely consenting 
to letting all three men use her simultaneously. Her assessment of Frances 
as the quieter of the two women would have to be drastically revised if that 
was true! 

Frances rose lazily from the couch and stretched again. Her arms had the 
firm appearance of ancient feminine strength and her majestic breasts surged 
upward with her motion. Her belly was flat and flawless and the blue-black 
patch of hair at her groin was luxuriant. There was surprising power evident 
in her swelling thighs and her calves bunched and flexed easily. If 
appearance counted she could handle the three men without difficulty. 
Probably, Millie conceded with a twinge of envy, without even breathing 
hard! 

Neither Paul nor Bob stirred until Wayne had slid to the floor and 
positioned himself with his back leaning against the cushions, his knees up 
and his feet well spread. Then Paul pulled his still-rigid penis out of 
Tracy's unprotesting bottom and rose. He straddled Wayne's hips and 
squatted, then reached down to brace his hands on the floor and lowered 
himself between the other man's thighs. Settled, he lay back and pushed his 
body firmly against the barricade of Wayne's buttocks. Frances surveyed the 
result and smiled. 

"Very good," she said primly. "Ready?" 

"Have at us." Paul growled affectionately. 

His wife straddled the two men, her feet planted on either side of Wayne's 
hips, and bent to place her hands on his raised knees. She faced Paul and he 
reached up to touch her coned breasts. 

"Nice," he murmured. 

"Don't get greedy," Frances warned. "Those are for Bob this time." 

Paul grunted and Frances lowered herself slowly while each of the two men 
held their penises upright beneath her descending body. She paused the 
moment she touched the two bulbs and waited while they positioned them, 
Paul's centered at the mouth of her vagina and Wayne's, lubricated by a 
handful of his own saliva, at her rectum. She closed her eyes and pressed 
down, her face reddening with her strain as the unyielding poles hung up 
momentarily at her portals. There was a sudden downward rush and she settled 
onto them. They plunged into her and she sat hard on the two adjacent 
groins, impaled and filled. 

"Unh!" She grunted heavily. "Sometimes I'm not sure! " 

"Pretty good for not getting any warm-up," commented Bob from beneath Tracy. 

"Your turn," Frances replied. "Or you want to make it with Tracy?" 

"Hell, she's limp!" he retorted. He rolled gently so Tracy slipped off him 
and onto the floor. He kissed her quickly and backed out of her, then got to 
his feet and joined Frances. "Boobs?" he asked her. 

"What personal attention?" she asked in reply. "If you feel like getting 
squeezed, stick it in my armpit. You want attention, my boobs are hot." 

He stood astride Paul's body and crouched, letting his penis lie between her 
ample breasts. Frances pressed her palms to the outer bulges and made her 
breasts close over the rigid shaft so only the head protruded. She bent her 
neck and sucked at the livid tip, then let it go and looked up at him. "You 
ready?" she asked. 

"Mmm! I'm all yours, baby!" 

She lowered her mouth to the head of his penis again and flexed her thighs. 
Millie watched breathlessly as the woman surged up and down on the two 
turgid masts. Her motions were deliberate and majestic, and as she slid up 
the shining shafts her breasts similarly slid up on Bob's. When she dropped 
back, Wayne's and Paul's shafts disappearing within her, her breasts rushed 
down the sides of Bob's imprisoned penis. But her lips clung to the bulb 
that thrust upward from the valley of her breasts and her cheeks dimpled 
with the suction she applied. 

Wayne's hands clutched Frances's waist and Paul's clung to her trembling 
thighs. Bob buried his fingers in her hair, closing them into fists around 
great handfuls of her black coiffure. She shut her eyes and bounced 
sedately, letting her motion service all three of the men. And each of them 
registered total absorption in the sensations she produced. Gradually she 
speeded her rhythm and began to show excitement of her own. Her face 
reddened again and her fingers kneaded the sides of her breasts. She held 
herself erect in the exaggerated posture of a show-ring horseback rider, the 
small of her back curving in and her buttocks protruding boldly above Wayne. 

Millie heard sharp grunts in different voices and the wheezing of rapid 
panting. She guessed that with the prior stimulation of Tracy's wild orgasm 
the four ought to reach their climaxes quickly. And suddenly she realized 
that Bob's had started. His buttocks winked rapidly and his legs shook. 
Frances swallowed hard and redoubled her sucking tempo, her hands leaving 
her breasts and closing on Bob's buttocks. With a deep groan Bob staggered 
back. Frances released his glistening penis head from her mouth and he 
crossed to a chair and collapsed into it. But Frances's pumping continued 
without interruption while she ran her tongue over her lips and swallowed 
again. Her expression was strained and her eyes opened and focused On the 
distance. She gripped Wayne's knees and her breasts jounced hard with each 
stroke of her body. 

Millie cringed at the labored breathing of the three and their obvious 
concentration on inner churnings. Wayne looked closest to orgasm, but she 
had no way of knowing whether either Paul or Frances would display their 
emotions as openly as he. 

Wayne groaned with the same tone of agonized pleasure she'd wrung from him 
on the couch and his hips pressed clear of the floor. She could see his 
buttocks squeezing as he emptied his semen into the still-surging Frances, 
and his fingers whitened from the force of his grip. He gritted his teeth 
and laid his head back on the couch cushion, his body going rigid, and then 
collapsed. 

Frances had gasped deeply at the first inrush of Wayne's semen and she'd 
held her breath while he finished coming. But now she smiled shakily down at 
Paul and nodded. Her husband pushed his feet against the front of the couch 
and shoved his body backward. Frances rode him, pulling off Wayne's 
softening penis and leaning forward to lean with her hands on Paul's chest. 
When they were clear of Wayne, she began to pump again, her hips bouncing 
wildly and her breasts swinging crazily beneath her. Paul's hips drove 
upward to meet each of her downward thrusts and the muscles in his legs 
leaped. 

Frances flung herself forward onto Paul's body and thrust her legs back with 
the same gesture as Tracy had used. She clutched at her husband and Paul 
seized her in his arms. Their mouths met and ground together and Frances' 
hips rotated in tight circles over Paul's upthrust groin. The two bodies 
stiffened and quieted and only a slow, powerful writhing of Frances's 
buttocks muscles betrayed the intensity of the contractions that were 
progressing in her belly. 

The grinding slowed and then ceased and the two clung weakly to each other. 
Millie let her breath out in a long, shivering sigh and crept into the other 
armchair, huddling in its protective bulk with sparks of desire shooting 
through her body. What she'd seen had frightened her with its wantonness, 
but it had excited her, too. And the excitement had washed away the fright 
and left her in an agony of hunger. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Bob and Tracy recovered first. Tracy pushed herself to her feet and twisted 
from side to side to work her stiffness out and Bob unfolded himself from 
his chair and crossed to pat his sister's bottom. Tracy grinned impudently 
at him. 

"I thought you'd be out for hours," she remarked. 

He winced. "Hell, you ought to know better than that. After all the years 
you had to learn?" 

"You're older." 

"Know how to save a little, too." 

"Oh." 

Bob grinned at Millie. "Kid sisters get to be a pain in the ass if you let 
'em. Gotta keep 'em in line." 

Millie smiled doubtfully. Even Tom would be shocked at a brother-sister 
relationship, she thought. But she'd have to admit the two had made a 
striking picture together and did now. But Tracy had turned to study her. 

"We're selfish, Bob," she murmured. 

"Yeah?" 

"Millie's getting cold." 

Bob chuckled and leered at Millie. "Not the way I see. Looks hotter'n a 
firecracker to me!" 

She was, too, Millie conceded silently to herself. And no matter how she 
crouched and hid the crawling of her flesh she couldn't hide the way her 
eyes must smolder or the lustful pout of her lips. Besides, she was ready to 
believe that Bob could read minds! 

Tracy nodded. "He's right, isn't he Millie." 

Bob interrupted. "Bet that pussy's so raw with wantin' she can't hardly 
stand it!" 

Millie gasped and whimpered. The fact that she ached all over with the need 
of hot bulk in her vagina didn't alter the other fact that she'd do anything 
to preserve one act for Tom! And if Bob got the idea he ought to sink his 
penis there, she'd be powerless to fight him off. She shrank further into 
the chair and cast wildly about for a way to distract him from that notion. 

But he studied her speculatively. "Might be time for a special treat, sis," 
he said. 

Tracy shivered and flushed. "You really want to?" she asked Bob. 

He nodded decidedly. "Like I said yesterday, she really needs something like 
that. Smashes hell outta inhibitions." 

Wayne struggled to his feet and stumbled forward. "Man, you think it's the 
right time?" 

Bob chuckled eagerly. "Like the best," he said softly. "Why don't you and 
Tracy get her set up?" Wayne touched his lips with the tip of his tongue. 
"Okay. C'mon, baby." 

Bob left the room and disappeared, and Wayne and Tracy went into the dining 
room and brought back two of the chairs. They set them at the end of the 
great coffee table and used Wayne's and Bob's discarded neckties to lash the 
lower rung of each to one of the table legs. Millie watched in panic. The 
chairs were situated eighteen inches to two feet apart, their backs against 
the end of the table, and it was impossible for her to picture how they were 
to be used in whatever exercise they now meant to subject her to. 

But Tracy came to her and held out her hands. "Come on, darling. This'll be 
fun, too." 

"I'm scared!" whispered Millie. "Don't make me do anything more!" 

"It's not going to hurt you," Tracy promised. "Come on." Her voice urged 
gently and Millie hesitantly put her hands in Tracy's and let herself be 
drawn to her feet. 

Tracy led her to the coffee table and had her sit on the edge between the 
chairs. "Lie back," she commanded quietly. 

Holding her thighs tightly pressed together Millie lay back on the table. 
Wayne took her right arm and Tracy her left, extending them beyond her head 
in spread-eagled position and binding the long scarves they'd used earlier 
to her wrists and then to the legs at the other end of the table. Working 
swiftly they lifted her legs and laid the backs of her knees over the tops 
of the chairs, her thighs deeply spread and her bottom resting on the very 
edge of the table. They slipped padding under her legs and tied loops around 
her knees and lashed them in place. Then they surveyed her helpless form 
with pleased expressions. But Tracy shivered again. "She's ready," she said 
quietly. 

"Except for a warm-up," added Wayne. 

He caressed Millie's thighs and rubbed her crotch with the flat of his hand. 
She was wet with the accumulation of fluid she'd started generating while 
she was making Wayne come on the couch. Wayne's hand slid in the thick 
coating and pressed between her tingling labia. He pressed her clitoris with 
the heel of his hand and tremors of delight spread through Millie's body. 
She panted and turned her head. Flat on her back with her arms so tightly 
stretched, her breasts were flattened on her chest and she could raise her 
head and see the soft radiance of her pubic thatch and the strained spread 
of her thighs. It was too late to plead for them to leave her vagina alone; 
the brief caresses Wayne was giving her had finished arousing her and not 
even her earlier-formed resolve could overcome the raging hunger of Millie's 
yawning vaginal mouth. 

She heard sounds from the back of the house and realized that Bob hadn't 
returned yet. But both Wayne and Tracy were looking toward the dining room 
and Millie turned her gaze in that direction. She saw Bob's naked form in 
the shadow and then a dark bulk beside his legs. She stared in bewilderment 
for a moment before full recognition burst upon her. 

"No! OH, GOD, NO!" she shrieked. 

It was the great gray brute she'd watched mount the Sullivans' bitch in the 
street. It-HE! she thought wildly-padded at Bob's side, his tongue lolling 
from the side of his open jaws and his eyes darting as he glanced warily 
about the living room. 

"DON'T LET HIM! PLEASE DON'T LET HIM!" she screamed in horror. 

But Bob brought the dog to the gap between the chairs and stopped. "Smoke, 
meet Millie," Bob said. "Millie, meet Smoke. You'll like him!" 

"No, no, no." She whispered. 

Smoke cocked his head and stared at her across her body, then backed from 
between the chairs and came to her head. He sniffed briefly at her armpit 
and across her chest and on breast, then touched her cheek with his nose. He 
whimpered softly and gave her cheek and the lobe of her ear a quick, light 
lick, and in her inflamed imagination Millie read compassion and sympathy 
into his worried expression. She wriggled and laughed. 

"Silly dog," she said tenderly. 

Smoke wagged his tail wildly and his lips drew back in a pleased smile. He 
sniffed at her again and she knew the men's dried saliva on her breasts 
would make him pause. He touched one nipple experimentally with his tongue 
and then licked the sensitive tissue thoughtfully. Millie flinched and 
squealed at the gentle caresses. As she twisted with unexpected pleasure, 
Smoke lapped harder and then moved his attention to her other breast. 
Looking at herself, Millie saw her nipples stiffen and pucker. She let her 
head fall back to the surface of the table and crooned at Smoke. He was 
sweet, she thought; he was sweet and thoughtful. 

He sniffed at the rest of her chest and then at her belly and the brief 
could touches sent thrills of excitement through her and made her writhe and 
gasp. His nose reached her pubic hair as he leaned over her and Millie 
sensed a keener interest and a sudden tension in the dog's manner. He 
quivered and gave a low whine. 

Bob snapped his fingers and Smoke padded obediently to his side. 

"Good boy." Bob's voice rumbled. "Good boy, smoke. Lick." 

Raising her head again, Millie watched Smoke step between the chairs and 
extend his muzzle toward her exposed, fluid-coated crotch. She tensed and 
held her breath as she waited for the feel of his nose. When the first touch 
came, cold and fleeting, she gave an explosive grunt of shock and her body 
leaped Involuntarily. Smoke touched her with his tongue, then began 
systematically to lick away the juice. The sensation was like nothing she'd 
experienced. It had no resemblance to the tonguing Wayne had given her; the 
dog's tongue seemed infinitely more flexible and conformed to her contours 
instead of reshaping them. And it was far more searching and lingering. It 
moved slowly and steadily along the inner slope of one labia from back to 
front and then started at the back of the other. 

When both labia felt as if they'd been licked raw and Millie was babbling 
incoherently in the grip of uncontrollably wild excitement, her body arching 
and writhing, Smoke sniffed out a trickle of juice in the crack between her 
buttocks and thoroughly cleaned it away. His tongue's probing at her rectum 
drove her wild before he was satisfied. And then he hesitated. 

"Clit, boy," said Bob softly. 

On cue, Smoke touched the grooves on either side of Millie's clitoris with 
his tongue. With maddening deliberation he stripped the grooves and slopes 
of their coating and then pressed in to lap at the body of her clitoris with 
the tip of his tongue. Millie flung herself from side to side and wrenched 
violently at her wrist lashings, looking down to see her breasts jerking 
insanely and her belly alternately bulging and disappearing from her view. 

"Good boy. Good, Smoke. Lick cunt," Bob commanded. 

The dog abandoned her clitoris and Millie sobbed with relief. The broad 
tongue applied itself to her inner labia and a new level of excitement shook 
her. But the smaller petals were soon cleaned and the tongue scoured the rim 
of her vaginal opening. Millie uttered a huge, guttural gasp when the tongue 
dipped inside the rim and began to probe at the walls of her vagina. And she 
cried out wildly as it went deeper and deeper. Smoke's muzzle pressed 
bluntly against the rim of her vagina and his tongue to the back of her 
barrel, scooping at the back wall and then methodically exploring every fold 
in the side walls. 

Millie awkwardly raised her head again and gaze at Smoke. She could see his 
broad-shouldered form framed in the vee of her corded thighs, his coat a 
dusky gray beyond the creamy gleam of her skin. His shoulders were hunched 
and his head was lowered and thrust forward. Over the ashen halo of her 
pubic brush the ridge of the dog's forehead was almost black. His eyes were 
closed and she imagined Smoke's expression was one of bliss. She saw the 
sides of his neck working as if swallowing the juices he was extracting from 
her. But the picture blurred in the intensity of the pleasure that his 
probing gave her, and Millie felt a series of light contractions travel 
inward along her vaginal barrel. 

She was coming! She was in the middle of a miniature orgasm! She bore down 
on Smoke's tongue, squeezing at it with the mouth of her vagina, and 
trembled. And as she did Smoke seemed to reach the end of the available 
fluid. He drew his tongue back to the mouth of her vagina and licked with 
tiny, tentative strokes while her excitement broke past the minor orgasm 
stage and rose to dizzying heights. 

Bob's voice came softly. "Mount, boy ... Mount." 

Millie jerked her head up to stare. "No-no-no!" she whispered knowing that 
neither Bob nor the dog would hear her. She saw Smoke back a step away and 
realized that his body was humped and working. He opened his eyes and stared 
at her for a moment, then came back to her. Rearing, Smoke placed his paws 
briefly on Millie's love mound and gazed down into her eyes. His 
hindquarters sidled ahead and she saw the long, red, pointed curve of his 
penis dangling beneath his belly. She shuddered as he shifted his weight and 
repositioned his forepaws carefully on the tabletop on either side of her 
hips. The bristles of his legs rested hard against the upper sides of her 
thighs and she felt a tapping, probing point on the surfaces of her labia. 

Smoke's jaws hung open and his tongue lolled in a huge grin as his hips 
jerked. She felt the tip of his penis dance over her crotch in an aimless 
search and began to suspect he'd never find the hole. But the slopes of her 
labia acted as the walls of a funnel and guided the restless tool ever 
closer to the center. At last Millie felt it snuggle into the depression at 
the mouth of her vagina and saw an instant change in Smoke's movements. 
Instead of the short quick jabs, the dog's hindquarters began to sweep 
forward with determined lunges. His penis was as big as any of the men's. It 
bored inward, filling Millie's barrel and sliding smoothly through her 
quivering rim. But there was a length that felt totally new to her. Smoke 
thrust to the end of her barrel and continued to drive forward. She ground 
her teeth and stared wildly at him as he lunged, knowing that she must be 
stretching to accept his full length. And suddenly the bristles of his belly 
stabbed her tenderest tissues and his belly flattened them. He pumped slowly 
and evenly inward and outward. There was a strange sensation just inside the 
mouth of her vagina of rapidly growing pressure, as if she were being blown 
up like a balloon. 

"What's ... happening?" she cried to Bob. "Bob, I'm blowing up!" 

"Dog knot, baby. Big bulb at the lower end of his cock. Swells maybe this 
big after he's got his pecker all the way in." Bob held up both fists 
pressed together. 

Millie gasped and groaned. There was no mistaking the pressure now. The knot 
had swelled larger than Bob's illustration, she was certain, and it was 
lodged inside the ring of her pelvic structure. Smoke pumped at her and 
stiffened his hind legs and she found herself suspended on his penis, her 
buttocks and lower back clear of the tabletop. Staring between his forelegs 
and beneath his heaving chest she could see the flesh of her belly moving as 
the head of his penis slid back and forth inside her. Waves of sour heat 
washed through her and her body flamed with eager pleasure. 

She was being had ... she was mating, an incredible penis lodged in her 
vagina ... but in one sense without violating the trust she held for Tom. In 
a way it was different with it being an animal than it would have been with 
a man. And the pleasure was so intense she couldn't resent the way she was 
being used. She could only arch and buck and whisper encouragement to the 
hulk that lunged against her. Smoke's belly battered her crotch and felt as 
if it were crushing her clitoris. Her throat grew dry and ached with her 
fevered hunger and her muscles strained to drive her into Smoke's thrusts. 

She felt a touch at her ankle and struggled to see. Tracy was untying 
Millie's knee, her other hand resting on the ankle, and on the other side 
Bob was loosening the other knee. Freed, Millie's knees drew back to tilt 
her crotch upward toward Smoke's bristles and then clamped against his 
jerking sides. She raised her lower legs and locked her ankles together 
above his back. She squeezed lightly, thrilling to the way his rough coat 
scratched as it surged back and forth over the inner surfaces of her thighs. 
And Tracy and Bob came to the other end of the table and released her 
wrists. 

Millie buried her hands in the thick coat on Smoke's shoulders and pulled 
herself up until she could rub her breasts in the shaggy hair that hung down 
the fronts of his forelegs. She sagged back, still clutching his ruff, and 
elevated herself at her hips, pressing onto the magnificent organ that 
impaled her. Excitement and delight grew in her until she felt she was 
floating in a sea of pleasure. Her head roared and she could see nothing but 
Smoke's grin and his plunging hips. The rhythmic pounding at her crotch and 
the endless stroking in her belly filled the world and blotted out every 
thought but that of the mating. 

She loved the splendid brute, Millie told herself through dry, parted lips. 
She wasn't a civilized, cultured woman or even a primitive savage; she was 
simply the frenzied, adoring mate of this all-powerful male animal skewering 
her. She hung from him without the power to wrench herself loose if she 
would, and she wished only for the monstrous fullness to go on forever. She 
stared unblinkingly at Smoke's surging body and hers because she wanted to 
memorize every detail of the wildly impossible scene. 

Her thighs looked whiter and smoother as they half buried themselves in the 
roughness of the dog's dark, unkempt coat. Her hips flared deliciously under 
his belly and Millie's own pale belly was marked with the deep creases of 
its curled position. Her breasts were now full again with her arms no longer 
stretched beyond her head and a thin string of saliva hung from Smoke's 
tongue and collected in the valley between her mounds. Her arms quivered as 
she clung to the dog's shoulders and the fine down of near-invisible hair 
that covered them shimmered whitely in contrast to the steel-grey hue of his 
hair. She slid her arms upward and clasped her fingers together at the back 
of Smoke's neck, pulling herself against him again. And when he touched her 
face with his tongue she parted her lips and sucked his tongue into her 
mouth in a frenzy of wanting to belong to him without a trace of reserve. 

The tempo of Smoke's lunges continued to increase until he beat at her 
crotch with a trip-hammer cadence impossible for any human to have 
approached. The blows followed each other so fast she gave up all hope of 
matching them with the undulations of her hips and simply pressed upward to 
receive them. Wild, buzzing heat burned at Millie's crotch and filled her 
belly and welled through her in overpowering waves. She felt her belly knot 
and contract and a fierce tremor seized her body. She moaned continuously in 
a half-human, half-animal yell of sheer enjoyment and abandoned herself to 
the thrill of coming on Smoke's huge prod. 

She sensed the sudden shiver that swept over him and felt a sudden pulse of 
swelling travel from the base of his penis to its tip. A new warmth seeped 
into her vagina to heat its walls and she knew Smoke was joining her with 
his own orgasm. 

The knowledge intensified her climax and prolonged it and she watched 
wide-eyed as the dog's tremors shook his head and his ruff. His lunges had 
stopped and his belly pushed hard against her crotch while his hindquarters 
trembled in rigid immobility. 

When she thought she must faint from the length of her climax it broke and 
released her tension. But there was no sign of a lessening in Smoke's 
ecstatic stiffness or in the continuing seepage of heat into her core from 
his penis. The unceasing warmth kept her hovering just below orgasm level 
instead of letting her complete her relaxation and again and again she 
surged to another flurry of climactic frenzy. 

Tom's orgasms lasted for a second or two or three. There had been times when 
she had hung in the throes of a climax for as long as ten or fifteen 
seconds. But this one of Smoke's was interminable! Panic welled into her 
throat and she cried out with it. 

"Bob! BOB! ... For God's sake, he's coming forever!" 

"They do, baby," Bob replied gently. "No spurting. Just ooze it in. Five or 
ten minutes." 

"Omigod!" She whispered with horror. But it wasn't hurting; she'd dreamed in 
the early days of her marriage to Tom of orgasms that never stopped and 
awakened wishing dreams could come true. Now she could taste the reality. 

She hugged Smoke and clasped her legs tighter about him and revelled in the 
ecstasy of her own intermittent flights into orgasmic tremors. Smoke's 
tongue dipped urgently to Millie's lips and she opened her mouth wide and 
let him explore her tongue and the insides of her cheeks and the back of her 
throat. She pulled herself up to bury her breasts in his coat and scrub her 
belly against his. And she deliberately loosened the grip of her legs to 
experience the shattering novelty of hanging by her pelvic ring from the 
root of his penis. 

When she had hovered on the borderline of orgasm so long that she was 
drifting in and out of consciousness she at last felt Smoke's intense 
trembling fade and his rigidity subside. She sighed deeply with relief and 
waited for him to dismount from her. But the enormous pressure inside her 
vagina failed to ease. And when Smoke started to back away from her she felt 
herself pulled with him. Her shoulders slid across the tabletop and she 
twisted to clear the edge as Smoke lowered his forepaws to the floor. He 
gazed down at her face with a perplexed expression and backed away from the 
chairs into the center of the room. For a moment she spread her legs, her 
feet pointed toward the ceiling, and let herself dangle by her vagina from 
his penis. But Smoke whimpered with pain and Millie again clamped her thighs 
to his sides and locked her ankles over his back, bending her knees to cling 
to him and relieve the tension of her weight on his spent organ. 

He continued to back in circles, dragging her on her shoulders. And she 
continued to cling to him with her legs and wonder how long it would take 
for his massive erection to soften and shrink. If she'd given herself to him 
like a bitch with her bottom up to his thrusts and her hands and feet on the 
ground, she reflected distractedly, there'd be no way to relieve the load on 
his tortured penis now. She'd hang from him and try to take up her weight 
with her legs and hands while he went about his frantic efforts to free 
himself. 

He surprised her by walking forward, stepping over her chest with one 
forepaw so that she twisted sideward helplessly. His pace quickened and the 
twisting broke the grip of her feet. Smoke grew agitated and Millie's legs 
fell away from his sides. Clumsily he raised one hind leg and twisted to get 
it over her legs. To her utter horror she found herself behind him with his 
penis bent impossibly backward and still solidly bound up within her. But 
the force of the bending raised his hindquarters into the air and his hind 
feet from the floor. He scrambled and kicked and she grabbed the upper part 
of his legs and pulled herself forward, curling her body until her angle let 
his feet once more support his weight-and part of hers. And she twisted 
until she could again wrap her legs around him and pulled her crotch tightly 
to his belly. 

With the pain gone Smoke calmed and merely walked slowly about the room 
dragging her behind him. His hind legs straddled her hips awkwardly and made 
his body swing from side to side with each step, but from her glimpses of 
his face when he turned to study her she began to believe that he was 
enjoying the situation hugely. She giggled to herself at the ludicrous 
picture she must make with the great dog, and the giggle turned to 
hysterical laughter. Smoke paused and stared back at her again and then 
apparently decided to give in to his exhaustion. He sank to the floor, 
flopping on his side with her legs still firmly locked around him, and began 
to lick at the taut rim of her vagina and the tiny length of exposed penis. 

The strokes of his tongue were deliberate and cautious, but they were 
applied to flesh that was sensitized beyond the limits of feminine endurance 
and Millie groaned and tried to cover herself with her hand. To block 
Smoke's tongue from her tissues she had to encircle the base of his penis 
with her fingers and he shoved rudely with his muzzle to dislodge her grip. 
But while they struggled she felt the enormous bulge inside her vagina 
beginning to diminish. And in another moment the still-full-length penis 
slid out of her. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Millie sighed with gratitude at the end of her bizarre ordeal and sympathy 
for Smoke's unnerving experience. She swung her leg off him and rolled onto 
her back in a state of helpless exhaustion. His weight pinned her other leg 
and there was no reserve of strength in her to free it; she could only wait 
for her energy to recover. 

Smoke curled between her thighs with his forequarters and began quietly to 
clean her crotch, his tongue lapping at his own semen as it oozed from her 
vagina. Millie raised her free thigh and tucked her heel against her 
buttocks, letting the knee fall outward while Smoke's tongue penetrated the 
mouth of her vagina and scooped out the proof of their mating. 

By the time he had finished and withdrawn his fantastic tongue, Millie was 
alert and had the strength to extract her trapped leg from beneath the dog. 
He now turned his attention to his penis, which lay at full length, limp but 
nearly as long as his leg, on the carpet. She peered closely at its base and 
saw that even now the "dog knot" was clearly visible as a football-shaped 
enlargement of the shaft. And then a wave of tenderness toward the brute 
swept over her and she curled herself around his back and laid her arm over 
his shoulders in a quiet, comradely embrace. 

Smoke had no thought processes to analyze the situation, she reflected. He 
had canine instincts and could display anger or affection or protection 
stubbornness. But he had no way to judge right and wrong except by what gave 
him pleasure or pain. Eating was essential to his survival, and, as it gave 
him and his kind pleasure the species had adapted and survived. Mating also 
gave pleasure and that fact had insured reproduction of the race. But the 
pleasure was natural and unreasoned in dogs; there could be no connection in 
their limited intellects between that intense joy and some much later 
appearance of a litter. Any exercise that produced sexual stimulation in 
them was pleasurable and therefore right. And they were built to respond 
with pleasure-seeking reactions to their environment. 

That fact was the key to survival for dogs and for all other non-intelligent 
creatures, she thought. In the childhood of the human race it must have been 
the guiding law for it, as well. Only when the race reached a level of 
security that freed individuals to imagine and to invent would Man have 
thrust that natural law away and substituted taboos and commandments for it. 
Only when he could devote himself to his dreams and the feverish twistings 
of his imagination could he have turned his back on the natural obligation 
to survive by pleasure-gratification and choose ritualized pleasure-denial 
instead. But when Man did reach that stage in his development he had 
instituted social order and the rule of individual conduct and thought by 
social edict. And he had the inherent mental capacity to absorb instruction 
and fashion personal inhibitions to reinforce cultural dictum. 

Tracy interrupted Millie's revery. "Tired, darling?" 

Millie felt more alive than she could remember ever having felt. There were 
aches and stiffness in some of her muscles and joints but her whole being 
tingled with repressed excitement and a sense of eagerness. Still, she could 
use rest. "A little bit," she replied. 

"It's after two. Let's get some sleep." 

They were really going to stay, then. They were going to stay here in her 
house and Tom's and keep her a prisoner and continue in the morning to 
exercise their sexual desires with her. Millie knew she ought to be furious, 
but the night was so unbelievable that she wasn't. Nor was she frightened. A 
glow of goodwill pervaded the atmosphere and she wasn't going to disturb it. 

"All three guest rooms are ready," she said. "They're upstairs." 

So was the master bedroom and she calmly led the way. Bob took one of the 
front rooms and Paul and Frances the other. Wayne and Tracy were left the 
larger room in the southeast comer. But Bob paused before leaving the hall. 

"Smoke will sleep in your room, baby," he said to Millie. 

"There's plenty of space in your room!" She protested. 

"Yeah, but we don't want you sleepwalking. You might get lost." 

"Might run away, you mean." Even now she was more amused than irked by her 
captivity. "You sure you can trust me not to climb out a window or scream 
for help?" 

Bob laughed. "Tracy says not to worry about that." 

Tracy would know, of course. It was a long drop from the second story 
windows to the ground. Maybe she could do something heroic like tie sheets 
together and slide down them, but she knew she wouldn't trust her tired 
muscles that far tonight. As for screaming for help, the northeast comer of 
Cowle House burrowed into the dense foliage of the spruces. She and Tom 
didn't even have blinds at the windows, and a scream would lose itself in 
the woods. 

"You still don't have to put the dog in there. Let him sleep in the hall." 
Why in the room? she thought. 

"No. He's used to being near someone at night. If he couldn't hear the 
breathing he'd probably have insomnia." 

"Oh, for heaven's sake! All right!" She bent and scratched Smoke's head. 
"Come on, baby. Mommie'll take care of you." 

She went into the master bedroom and Smoke padded in behind her. He flopped 
at the foot of the bed and she showered and climbed gratefully between the 
covers. 

She awakened to find the room filled with morning light. The night had been 
one of the rare summer kind that come to the high Rockies in late August, 
where the darkness brings a pause in the wind and the heat soaked up from 
the sun during the day rises and fills a valley. Even the sheet felt sticky 
this morning and she flung it off and stretched, letting the still air dry 
her skin and bring life to her extremities. She heard a stirring at the foot 
of the bed and remembered Smoke as she listened to the pad of his footsteps 
coming around to the side of the bed. 

Bubbling with a curious sort of lightheartedness, Millie scooted to the 
bed's edge and gathered the dog's upstretched head in her arms. He whined 
and wiggled his entire body in affection, jerking at her restraint and 
lapping at her with his tongue. Overcome by exuberance at her laughing 
greeting, Smoke heaved himself up to plant his forepaws on the side of the 
mattress and nuzzled recklessly at her. Millie pushed his nose away from her 
breasts and he thrust its cold wetness into the pit of her belly. She shoved 
it quickly away from there only to have Smoke poke it into the hollow where 
her thighs met. Squealing with exasperation and playful indignation she 
pushed him back. But he sensed her mood and drove in again, only to be 
repulsed and return more eagerly. 

"Oh, all right, pig!" she exclaimed. "But just a sniff!" She fell back and 
let him sniff at her crotch while she resisted the temptation to flinch. 

Smoke's tongue came out a fraction of an inch and probed at the tiny mound 
of pink flesh that showed through the crown of pubic hair. A jolt of 
excitement struck her and she laughed again in delight. 

"You've just got to taste, haven't you! Well, I suppose it won't hurt for a 
minute." 

Turning herself on the bed she swung her legs over the side and let her feet 
hang toward the floor, her bottom at the edge of the mattress and her thighs 
widely parted. The weight of her unsupported legs arched her back 
deliciously and she held her breath while Smoke made his first exploratory 
licks. He settled into a determined assault without hesitation and the 
intimate wet caresses inflamed her before she recognized what was happening. 
As he struggled to probe deeper with his tongue she reflexively raised her 
knees and pulled them against her chest with her hands, her crotch turned up 
to open her to his tongue's thrusts. The dog lapped vigorously and 
thoroughly at the fully exposed surfaces. Millie tossed her head and moaned 
softly with the hunger he aroused in her, and she let go of her knees and 
seized the backs of her thighs and thrust her feet upward to kick at the 
air. 

She felt her thigh tendons leap with her motion and saw her breasts jounce. 
Smoke's tongue flicked in and out of her gaping vaginal mouth and her body 
began to roll from side to side. She felt herself slipping down the tilted 
surface of the mattress and uncoiled herself just as she fell from the bed. 
She scrambled to her hands and knees and then paused as Smoke's muzzle 
nudged the inside of her left thigh. It was primitive and unnatural, in a 
sense, but it would be fun for a moment to pretend. She crouched, elevating 
her rump, and spread her knees for Smoke. He sniffed at her throbbing 
tissues and she turned and felt for his penis with one hand. She found it 
sheathed, but even as she touched it, the tip slid into the open and began 
to harden. 

Smoke lapped at her and his tongue plunged into her vagina without 
hesitation. Millie moaned helplessly and quivered at the deep-surging 
sensation of desire. Dropping to her elbows to thrust her crotch even 
further into the open for him, she gave herself to the giddy delight of his 
demanding mouth. A sudden wildness seized her and she pivoted toward him and 
caught hold of his now fully extended penis. She pulled it sideward and 
pressed it to her lips. With a shudder of residual inhibition she timidly 
licked it and thrilled to the abrupt upward thrust of the dog's middle. He 
humped and shook while she played with his tender staff and she closed her 
fingers around it with awe at its thickness and length. 

With a sudden whine Smoke jerked free and danced to her rear. She felt his 
paws between her calves and scrambled forward, but he was upon her before 
she could move toward rising. His chest bore down on her rump and his 
forepaws clasped her waist in a tight grip while the point of his penis 
jigged over the raw surfaces of her upturned vulva. Her thoughts were 
chaotic as she felt his spasmodic thrusts and yielded to the tugging of his 
forepaws. She'd let his penis stick just a little way into her and then 
she'd drop to her belly until he backed off. She wouldn't mate with him this 
way but she'd wait long enough for that first tentative penetration before 
she refused. That way she'd be able to pretend in some fantasy someday. 

The insistent tip danced inward along her slopes and came to a momentary 
rest in her opening. She drew a deep breath and braced herself, digging her 
toes into the carpet and raising her knees to elevate herself. Her elbows 
rested on the floor and her breasts hung like inverted cones. She noticed 
motion at one side and glanced across to see that her image and Smoke's were 
fully visible in the mirror on the dressing room door, five feet away. As if 
the sight had hypnotized her Millie continued to stare at it. Nothing in her 
imagination or in the face-on views she'd had could have prepared her for 
what she now saw. 

She knew how good her figure was and was proud of it. But she'd never looked 
at it in this position and might never have done so. Her thighs tapered 
gracefully and her rump rode high and fully curved. The line of her back was 
a smooth, deep curve as she let it sag in the middle, and her chest was so 
close to the floor that her nipples almost reached the carpet. She was a 
slender woman but not a thin one, nor was she extremely short. But in this 
position the length of her lower legs didn't count and she looked the size 
of one of the bigger bitches Smoke had undoubtedly mounted during his varied 
career. His torso was thicker than hers in this view and his deep chest made 
her buttocks look almost delicate. His forepaws appeared to be as thick as 
her upper arms and they clasped her waist firmly. His hindquarters were 
stockier than her thighs and, as he towered over her upturned rump, he made 
her look fragile and ready to topple. There was a significant gap between 
his belly and her backside and Millie could see not only his penis but part 
of her swollen genitalia in the mirror. The dog's penis was fully stiff now 
and as straight as an axe handle. 

But it was a terrifying organ seen this way. The backs of her thighs curved 
inward at the top, just before the backward swell of her buttocks, and it 
was at that dip that the puffy tissues of her vulva protruded. They were 
pink through the shimmering straw color of her pubic hairs and the mast that 
was Smoke's penis extended like a horizontal log between his taut sheath and 
that handful of pulpy flesh. It was a mottled red and white and it shone 
with the peculiar gleam of stretched mucous tissue. But the terrifying thing 
about it was that the tip was already hidden, couched in the eager ring of 
her vaginal mouth and yet there was nearly a foot of meat visible, as thick 
as her wrist. And the "dog knot" was free of the sheath and was even 
thicker. 

In the seconds that Millie spent on that examination Smoke thrust his hips 
forward and tugged backward at her waist with his forepaws. She felt a 
delicious stretching and sliding and a marvelous fullness in the first part 
of her vagina as inches of the gigantic pole slipped from sight among those 
soft tissues, Millie trembled and surged backward as Smoke's rump thrust 
forward again. The breathtaking sensation of sliding friction in the mouth 
of her vagina came once more and another four inches of the great cylinder 
drove inward. She could feel the tip hard against the inner end of her 
vaginal barrel now and Smoke began to pump with gentle urgency. Her inner 
tissues stretched before his pressure and an inch at a time of the remaining 
portion of his shaft eased inward past her darkening labia. She grunted and 
pushed while Smoke continued to thrust. She watched the knot reach her flesh 
and push it aside and the sensations in her crotch intensified as the 
swelling forced its way through her protesting ring. Finally she saw the 
sheath press into her soft flesh and felt the bristles that covered it 
jabbing into her tender skin. 

Millie tossed her hips in a delirium of pleasure while Smoke shuffled his 
hind feet forward and rested his belly against her bottom. He humped 
rhythmically and she braced herself to accept the force of the impacts. The 
sensation of mounting pressure against the inner surfaces of her pelvic 
circle came again, startling her in spite of her memory of the night before. 
And suddenly she gasped and gave a low cry of consternation. She'd meant to 
drop away from him before he got his penis all the way into her! She hadn't 
meant to wait this long! 

She shoved her feet back and out, but her rump remained tightly pressed to 
Smoke's belly. She was too late! She bit her lip and drew her knees back 
into position. She was too late to escape his imperious organ and the long 
minutes of build-up and the longer, agonizing minutes of hanging to him 
while his oozing orgasm ran its course! And she braced herself as her breath 
caught in a dry sob of frustration and fear. She couldn't do anything now 
but respond to the dog's thrusts. She couldn't do anything but revert to 
that dim time in Man's past when he let himself be guided by what was 
pleasurable. 

There was that. No matter what her civilized inhibitions told her about 
mating with a shaggy-coated beast, it was pleasurable. His penis filled her 
vagina and distended it as Tom's would never be able to do. And it was 
fun-utterly degrading, perhaps, but fun-to feel Smoke's prickly belly 
rubbing in the valley of her rump and the urgent pressure of his forepaws 
against the tops of her hip bones and the hot puffs of his panting on her 
back. And it was fun to thrust herself up onto that gut-displacing club and 
feel her softest tissues-her sacred folds of love-her most secret and most 
private parts-skewered on his brutal penis and gouged by the stiff bristles 
that grew on his sheath. 

With his shaft fully imbedded in her and securely locked in by the fatal 
knot, Millie no longer needed to tilt her crotch up to him so sharply. She 
rose from her elbows to her hands and bucked backward, taking care only to 
continue letting the small of her back sag in a swaybacked posture. Smoke 
appeared to enjoy his mount immeasurably more than he had the previous 
night. 

In the mirror she saw a huge grin of appreciation on his muzzle. And he 
swept her body back and forth in the grip of his forepaws so that she moved 
as fast and as much as his own hammering rump did. There could be no such 
thing as dignity in this situation, Millie decided breathlessly. Her body 
flailed and she had difficulty keeping her knees in one spot. Her hair flew 
and her breasts swung and leaped madly beneath her. But every flogging 
movement added its share to the mounting excitement that burned in her and 
helped her lose herself in the fun of the moment. Smoke was knocking the 
wind out of her with the force of his blows and she had to get her breath in 
great, sucking gasps. The bulk of his penis displaced her internal organs 
and pressed them together and reminded her to her dismay that she'd given 
herself to him without even going to the bathroom first. But each discomfort 
that she discovered contributed its share to her sense of violating 
artificial rules and embracing a creed of fun for its own sake. 

Smoke's tempo rose to the incredible flurry she'd doubted the night before, 
and she saw by reflection that the movement of his rump-and of her own-had 
decreased to less than an inch of backward and forward travel. But the speed 
was faster than she could begin to count and had to be at least ten strokes 
every second. It was more vibration than stroking and generated an intense 
buzzing in her core that spread to every fiber of her being. Her belly 
knotted and churned and she knew she was on the verge of coming. She thrust 
her knees apart and they dropped her body so it dangled from the dog's 
penis. His forepaws released her waist and struck downward to the floor. His 
forelegs braced and his rump continued its wild vibration. 

When Millie's first climactic contraction closed on Smoke's knot she stabbed 
her legs out and up behind them. Her arms trembled but held her, and she 
watched herself in the mirror as she parodied the childhood wheelbarrow 
stance. Her body became a graceful arch from shoulders to toe-tips and her 
thighs clamped fiercely on the outsides of Smoke's flanks. The most violent 
contractions of her orgasm spent themselves and subsided and she brought her 
shaking legs back down and got her knees under herself again. Bracing them 
and pushing upward, she raised Smoke's forequarters so the dog could rest 
his chest on her rump and wrap his forepaws around her waist. The vibration 
of his hips grew more intense and rekindled her climax. And then he slammed 
himself forward against her and grew rock-still while his fluid began to 
flow thickly through his long passage into her. 

Millie was ready for the long wait this morning, but being ready did nothing 
to make it seem shorter or to reduce the pitch of excitement. As she had the 
night before, she came again and again. And she grew faint and giddy and 
unsure of who she was-or what. 

When Smoke finished coming and tried to free himself she spread her knees 
and lowered herself until his forepaws were on the floor. And then she 
arched herself deeply and scissored her legs around his body, clasping her 
hands at the small of her back and letting her upper torso rest on her 
breasts. 

Smoke humped and shook himself and Millie shook beneath him. But she kept 
her ankles locked and her legs straight and rigid and waited. He walked 
clumsily forward and her body lost its arch and doubled so she rested on her 
shoulders and the back of her head between his hind feet, but the 
scissor-grip of her legs continued to sustain enough of her weight to make 
the tug at her insides tolerable. 

As if he recalled the end of the same situation from the previous night, 
Smoke flopped to the floor and waited. His penis responded gradually to the 
release of pressure and began to shrink. Millie squirmed as it slid 
reluctantly out of her and left her empty. And then she rolled over and 
positioned herself with her thighs widespread and her crotch before Smoke's 
nose. While he cleaned her tissues and removed his traces from inside her 
vagina she gently licked the length of his penis. Her tongue dried its slick 
surface and explored the knot. And she daringly took the bony tip into her 
mouth and sucked the last of its fluid from it before Smoke completed 
tongue-washing her. 

"Oh, Smoke," she whispered. "Oh, Smoke, honey, I do love you so!" 

 CHAPTER NINE 

Millie showered and brushed her hair carefully. When she came out of the 
bathroom she studied the clothes in the closet and tried to decide what she 
ought to wear. There might be a period of quiet until breakfast was over and 
the dishes were cleared. But there would come a time when the others would 
decide they wanted to play with her again. And when they did they might 
leave her dressed for a while, as they had last night, or strip her at once. 
But, sooner or later, they'd undress her and it wouldn't matter what she had 
on. So the best course would be to wear whatever would be easiest to get off 
when the time arrived. 

She'd not wear a bra or panties, she decided. She didn't need them for her 
figure and it wasn't going to matter if shadows revealed nipples or the soft 
patch of pubic hair. She did have one blouse that would come off easier than 
any of the rest. It wasn't really intended for a blouse, but for an 
over-blouse. It was cut a little like a poncho with a hole for her head and 
laces at both sides. Without the laces, it hung open below her arms and had 
no sleeves nor waist. Laced tightly, its material clung to her and revealed 
everything under it. For a skirt, she had a mid-thigh mini of heavy linen 
that buttoned down one side from waist to hem. It was intended to be worn 
over pants or pantyhose and flared rather too much for other uses. But it 
wouldn't matter this morning. 

She took both garments from the closet and slipped into them. After she 
laced the blouse and shivered at the amount of flesh that showed at the 
sides, she decided on a touch of bravado and put on a pair of sandals with 
thongs that crisscrossed all the way to her knees. There were stirrings 
outside the door. She made a kissing sound at Smoke and went into the hall 
with him. 

Tracy was there and Bob and Wayne were going down the stairs. 

"I think Paul and Frances are up," remarked Tracy. "There's noise coming 
from their room." 

"Noise?" 

Tracy grinned. "Like they're getting their appetizer before they come out." 

"Oh." Millie thought of the "appetizer" she'd had with Smoke. "I'd better 
get breakfast started. They'll be hungry." 

"And I'm starved!" 

Smoke preceded them down the stairs and trotted toward the back of the 
house. Millie heard the back door open and guessed that Bob or Wayne had let 
the dog outside. After a night without visiting a tree and the exercise he'd 
already had, the poor creature must be in agony, she reflected. 

After a substantial breakfast of waffles and sausage-the Chases arrived in 
the dining room just as Millie was carrying the steaming platters to the 
table-Bob pushed back in his chair and sighed contentedly. 

"Man, this is the kind of day that turns me on!" he exclaimed. "Damn fine 
breakfast, Millie!" 

"Easy," she replied with a smile. 

"Good breakfast calls for something stimulating afterward," Bob went on. 
"Got all the makin's today." He studied Millie's blouse pointedly. 

She knew how much fair skin he was seeing and how clearly her nipples were 
outlined by the plain front of her blouse. She'd certainly insured an early 
start at the sex by her outfit. She shrugged inwardly. They wouldn't have 
waited much longer anyway, even if she'd worn her most demure 
housedress-maybe not as long. 

Bob turned to Tracy. "Hey, Sis, mind if I borrow your belt?" 

Tracy shrugged and smiled. "Be my guest. But it won't fit." 

"Not for me, smart-ass." 

Tracy stood and removed the broad, tooled-leather belt and handed it to her 
brother. Bob beckoned to Millie and she rose. 

"I haven't got the dishes cleared yet," she pointed out. 

"I'll get them," Frances murmured. 

Millie let Bob put the belt around her waist and then stood motionless while 
he tied her forearms to it. He led her into the living room and the other 
two men followed. Frances and Tracy cleared the table. 

In the living room, Bob knelt and lashed Millie's ankles together and then 
her knees. She shivered with apprehension at the unexpected bonds. If they 
were going to tie her again, she'd have supposed they would spread-eagle 
her. This didn't make sense. 

"Lotsa ways to screw," Bob commented in a conversational tone. "Thought we 
might start off by looking at a few little ways that come in handy on a 
rainy afternoon when you're tired of the heavy stuff. " 

"Do we have to?" Millie asked. It wasn't a question of having to, she knew, 
but she had to make some sort of protest as a formality. 

"Ya don't do fun things because ya have to, baby." He surveyed her. "Want 
that stuff off to start with?" 

"My clothes?" 

He nodded. 

"No." 

"Okay. I like it with it on." 

He made her sit on the arm of one of the chairs, her feet on the floor 
beside it, and let her lean against the edge of the back. Then he stood 
close beside her and leaned his hips forward until his belly rested against 
her shoulder. For a moment he caressed her jaw line with his fingers, then 
he stepped back and stripped. She gulped nervously at the sight of his 
already rigid penis. He returned to her and leaned his belly against her as 
he had before. His penis rested with its head between his belly and the 
swell of her shoulder. 

Bob chuckled. "Ought to try this when things get dull," he said lightly. He 
grasped her upper arm and held it slightly away from her ribs and forced his 
penis down with his other hand and inserted it into the warmth of Millie's 
armpit. Pumping his hips, he slid the dry shaft back and forth in the close 
space while his left hip bumped her breast. It was a curious kind of sex, 
she reflected. There seemed to be no effort to arouse her and no really 
stimulating byplay except the brutal fact of friction for his penis. Any one 
of a thousand improvised devices could have given him as much satisfaction. 
She asked him if that were the case. 

"Naw, baby. Got a couple o' things goin' for this way. First thing, you're 
alive and a real sexy broad. You make it two of us instead of one. Second 
place, I got the feelin' of that tit against my hip every time I move. Third 
thing, we don't have to do it exactly this way." 

He pulled his penis free and lifted her legs to turn her so her feet were in 
the seat of the chair and her back was toward him. He slid his penis between 
her arm and her ribs again and the head protruded in front. He reached 
around her and cupped his hands over her breasts, massaging them as he 
pumped his hips. The bulbous head thrust forward and receded again and again 
in a slow, measured cadence and her breasts tingled fiercely. 

"See, you could hold onto the head o' my cock with your other hand an' work 
me up real good this way." He increased his pace. 

It was difficult to know how to react. Millie was discovering unsuspected 
erogenous zones; the dry friction in her armpit was shooting startling 
sensations through her and her crotch had already begun to throb. Bob's 
massage of her breasts contributed too, but there was a distinct difference. 

Wayne brought a tube of K-Y jelly and Bob again withdrew his penis. He 
smeared the jelly on the livid member and thrust it against the crack 
between Millie's arm and body. Without bothering to hold her arm free he 
pressed and drove the stiff organ through the crevice. Millie gasped at the 
startling change in the nature of the stimulation. The friction was 
altogether different. Where her flesh bulged between the tight laces it was 
as intense as it would have been on the swell of her breast. 

"I ... I'll hold its head with my hand if you want me to," she offered in a 
low voice. 

"Yeah?" 

She nodded slowly and kept her face down. Bob untied her right arm and she 
cupped her palm over the jelly-coated knob. Her hand was instantly slippery 
and she twisted it gently about while Bob's movements became increasingly 
jerky. His fingers narrowed their kneading to her nipples and her thighs 
rubbed together with growing warmth. If they continued this for a long 
enough time she'd reach an orgasm, she thought. But there was little chance 
of that with Bob's rising agitation. 

"Hang on, baby!" Bob panted. "Hang on!" 

She clutched at the slippery surfaces and squeezed and there was a sudden 
stop in the stroking. Bob jammed his belly forward until she felt the 
pressure of his testicles on the back of her arm. His hands tugged her 
breasts against her chest and held her to him. Enough of his penis was 
exposed in front of her for her hand to grip it tightly and she pumped on it 
as she had on Wayne's. There was an abrupt jet of hot wetness against her 
fingers and thick, white goo oozed between them to drip on her blouse. 

Afterward, Bob breathed hard and shook while he let his shriveling penis 
rest in the warm nest. Millie was puzzled by her affectionate feeling toward 
him. He'd done nothing toward satisfying her-not that she'd really wanted 
him to-but she still felt good. Part of it had to be the knowledge that 
she'd let him find relief. Part of it might be that she'd responded 
sufficiently to feel a general sense of benevolence. But, as she thought 
back, she had to concede that it had been light and fun. 

Wayne produced a piece of toweling and wiped her. He chuckled. "Quiet way to 
get a load off," he said softly. 

"Not strenuous," she agreed. 

"Get the drift and a couple can invent a hundred ways like that, maybe." 

"Why would they?" 

"Three reasons. Three main ones, anyway. But you gotta realize it's the 
woman who suggests going this route, not the man. And she'd suggest it 
because it'd do something for him without her working hard. Like if she were 
getting over something-too weak to take on a full scale screwing. Or like 
they'd been separated for awhile and she was menstruating when they got back 
together. That wouldn't bother everybody but it would some. Or like she 
figured the old man needed to blow off some tension and they didn't have any 
time for clean-up." 

She considered his reasons and added the one she'd gathered from Bob's 
initial comments. "Or just for something different when they're getting all 
they want." 

"Yeah. Just for the fun of it." He used the towel on one last spot and 
backed away. "Hey, Paul, you got one to show her?" 

Paul nodded. "She's seen it. But it feels different than it looks." 

He came to her and began to unlace the sides of her blouse. Millie expected 
this from the moment she'd come downstairs, but it still sent a thrill of 
embarrassment through her and made her stiffen. When both sides were 
unlaced, he pulled the blouse over her head and fingered her naked breasts. 

"You're starting off with something to go on," he murmured. 

She glanced at her taut nipples and agreed. Paul, with his gentle voice and 
manner, was the nearest to a gentleman of the three men, she decided. There 
was no contrast between those qualities and his slender physique and fine 
features, either. He'd made her think of musicians and artists from the 
beginning and seemed to appreciate subtler things than the others did. Now 
he carefully re-tied her forearm to the belt and moved her into the chair. 
Paul positioned Millie so that she slouched. He stepped back to appraise the 
effect. While he gazed she looked at herself. Her skirt had hiked some and 
showed most of her thighs, but it still hid her crotch. Her belly was 
creased again and her breasts looked so full as to be almost pendulous. And 
her arms were tied tightly to her sides. 

Paul returned after undressing and stood astride Millie's legs. He bent to 
place his hands on the chair arms arid then thrust his knee between her hip 
and the upholstered arm. Resting his weight on that knee, he repeated the 
process with his other knee and knelt, straddling her lap. Paul was 
obviously being careful not to pinch her as he edged his knees toward the 
back of the chair. She watched with silent fascination as the bobbing head 
of his erect penis approached her. If he thrust it into her face and tried 
to make her take it in her mouth she'd clamp her jaws until a crowbar 
wouldn't pry them apart. She'd made small gestures toward that in the past 
twelve hours, but she wasn't going to imitate Frances. 

But he didn't try. When his thighs rested snugly against her lower ribs, 
Paul laid his penis between her breasts and asked Wayne for the jelly. He 
smeared the inner bulges of her breasts instead of his penis. But when he 
laid his hands on the outer swell and pressed the mounds together over his 
penis the effect was the same. He held her breasts firmly and leaned into 
their tops. Undulating his hips he began to stroke his penis in its pulpy 
sheath. The head thrust into the open at the end of each stroke and the hair 
on his belly scraped back and forth over Millie's nipples. 

Again, it was a low-key form of sex. Millie recognized that she might reach 
a climax if she were given enough time, but also recognized that the 
technique wasn't designed with that in mind. Slumped as she was, she was 
staring directly at Paul's belly. She carefully suppressed a smile at the 
way it settled as he stroked. But she was powerfully conscious of the 
surprising strength of his rippling, tapered muscles and the speed with 
which he became excited. He gazed down at her face almost without blinking. 
She sensed that a major part of his stimulation came from seeing her 
expression as she watched his belly and the rhythmically appearing bulb. 

The near-frictionless sliding was taking place on the flesh of very 
sensitive growths, however. And the tingles that had struck inward from her 
breasts at first had now become high-potency pulses of desire. Millie had 
been at a partially aroused level at the beginning of Paul's demonstration 
and the pressure and stroking on her breasts was building her awareness 
rapidly. She was even undulating her own hips in time to Paul's long 
strokes. 

On impulse, Millie bent her neck and dug her chin into her chest so she 
could see the emerging and retreating head of Paul's penis more clearly. And 
she found that she could teach its tip with her lips at the end of each 
upward stroke. That wasn't at all the same as Frances had done, and Millie 
began to plant light kisses with each contact. She heard Paul draw a sharp 
breath and suspected that he was experiencing a typically male build-up. 
From that sound, and the now furious tempo of his lunges, she guessed he'd 
come within moments. She ought to raise her face so the jism would be 
deflected by the curvature of her throat. But some perversity in Millie made 
her continue to kiss his hot flesh at each opportunity. When he drove 
himself hard onto her breasts and kept his throbbing bulb at the level of 
her mouth she held her lips to its tip in a long, silent kiss. 

Her breasts detected an abrupt, hard pulse in the base of Paul's penis. An 
instant later a pellet of hot semen burst against her lower lip and chin. 
That impact was followed at rapid intervals by a series of others, each a 
little less violent, and then there was a period in which the hot liquid 
welled steadily against her and subsided to run down the straining shaft 
into the crevice between her breasts. 

Paul shuddered and sighed and sagged back away from her. Even before he 
stirred himself to dismount, Wayne was beside them to mop the semen from her 
skin. But Millie furtively flicked her tongue out over her lower lip to 
taste the thick stuff. It was completely flat in flavor-metallic and 
neutral-and she realized that she could learn to love it or hate it 
depending on the circumstances of her early experiences. All in all, it was 
a rather pleasant taste, she decided. 

By the time Wayne removed the stickiness, Paul had freed his knees from the 
cushions of the chair ' and stood. He gazed fondly down at Millie and 
smiled. "There's something special about you, Millie." His voice was tender 
and thoughtful. "If you and Tom ever think about neighborhood, sex, let 
Frances and me know." 

"We won't. But thanks, Paul." She'd be damned if she was going to turn any 
other woman loose on Tom! And once this fantastic affair was over she'd 
never let another man but Tom at her, either! Still, Paul's offer was a 
sincere one and meant in the nicest way. She couldn't be angry with him for 
it. 

Wayne drew her to her feet and picked up the discarded blouse. "Mind if I 
put this back on you?" he asked. 

"Of course not!" 

He slipped it over her head and untied her arms so she could help lace it. 
"I like the way you look in it," he admitted with a grin. "Besides, it's 
more sexy to screw a woman with her clothes on." 

She shivered. That was the kind of remark that made her consider him less of 
a gentleman than Paul. It was also the kind of comment that shot a charge of 
anticipation through her and covered her with goose bumps! 

Wayne tied her arms again and drew her to him. She rested with her breasts 
flattened on his naked chest and her belly rubbing his penis and let him 
tilt her face up and press his mouth to hers. His kiss was wet and hot. His 
tongue drove between her teeth and probed at the back of her throat. Millie 
gulped and drew up one knee with renewed hunger. A kiss like this one, with 
a man's hands hard against the small of a woman's back, had an electric 
quality to it that made her nerves stand on end and her pulse beat faster. 
It made sex seem like a personal thing instead of a carnival ride. Under 
these circumstances she feared it as much as she enjoyed it. But, aflame as 
she was, the fear was nothing more than a shadow on the fabric of her 
consciousness and the enjoyment swelled into avid response. 

Wayne picked her up and carried her to the back of the chair. He laid her 
over it, face down, so her legs hung toward the floor and her front lay 
against the cushion. It was a difficult position and severely restricted her 
breathing. But when Wayne stroked the backs of her thighs and ran his hands 
under her skirt to caress her buttocks, Millie squirmed with eagerness. A 
momentary dread came over her that he might take her by surprise and go the 
whole route. But the atmosphere seemed to be one of light amusement and 
there'd surely be more group interest if she were going to get a real 
copulation. 

Millie felt her skirt being lifted over her buttocks and laid on her back 
and knew that her buttocks were fully exposed. But, when Wayne laid his hand 
flat on the tissues of her crotch, she realized that this position exposed 
her crotch as completely as spreading her thighs would. She was horrified. 
The sudden flush of horror gave way to quick lust as Wayne fingered her 
pubic hairs and trailed his knuckles over her twitching folds. She could do 
little but squirm to her surging excitement, shocked to find how effectively 
the lashings at her knees and ankles restricted her body movements. 

Wayne caressed her buttocks and the valley between them. She tensed as his 
fingers lingered at her rectum. But he parted her labia and stroked their 
inner walls and pressed his hand to the floor of their crevice while she 
panted and jerked vigorously. He was the first of the three who'd made an 
effort to arouse her and she was more than willing to react. 

He removed his fingers from her crotch then, though, and she felt his sturdy 
thighs press on hers as he laid his penis along her now writhing sex lips. 
He toyed with her by drawing back and jabbing the blunt head of his penis 
into her puffed tissues until she groaned in anticipation. There was a brief 
pause in his activity and then a could, slippery contact where her thighs 
had a gap just below her crotch. She flinched and Wayne plunged his penis 
through the narrow gap. Seizing her hips with his hands he pulled her back 
on the broad cushion top so the fronts of her thighs were clear of the back 
of the chair. He thrust himself tightly against her. Millie could feel the 
inner surfaces of his thighs crossing outside hers and she knew he was 
partially crouched. And the sliding of his penis between the tops of her 
thighs was enormously more stimulating to her than either of the earlier 
activities. 

Millie sucked hard for air and blew it out with sharp puffs through pursed 
lips. Her breasts ground against the cushion and felt as if they were afire 
and her belly knotted and writhed. She jerked her feet up to touch Wayne's 
buttocks. She felt his hand slide down her thighs until his fingers hooked 
in the loops that held her knees together. He lifted, and her legs extended 
straight out. He no longer had to crouch, she told herself. He could stand 
with his knees straight and his feet spread, straddling her tight-clamped 
thighs with his penis pointing down weird between them. 

He pressed forward and the ridged upper side of his penis rode on her 
clitoris. Millie stiffened with a spasm of sheer lust and began to undulate 
her hips. 

 CHAPTER TEN 

Millie heard Bob's voice. "Hey, man, I'll hold those legs up for you! How 
the hell you gonna keep your mind on what you're doin' if you have to reach 
back like that?" 

Wayne grunted. "Thanks. Work better with my hands free." 

He closed strong fingers on Millie's buttocks and kneaded them while he 
surged up and down over the backs of her thighs. All of Millie's sensations 
merged into a throbbing background to the fiery stream of signals her 
clitoris transmitted under the powerful strokes of Wayne's penis. Her body 
lashed and her breasts pounded against the cushion. She used the leverage of 
her horizontal legs to bounce her hips. 

This time she'd come as fast as her rider, she knew. Already her thighs were 
clamping involuntarily on his jerking penis and tremors were shooting down 
their length. In a violent contortion, she raised her upper torso and arched 
her back, rocking on the back of the chair with its pressure in her belly 
adding to the pitch of her passion. She yelled in a long, undulating cry of 
animal joy as contractions gripped her vagina and swept through her belly. 
The pumping against her clitoris continued and her orgasm intensified. The 
convulsions that shook her body frightened her at the same time that they 
heightened her excitement. Her throat ached and her arms tore at their 
lashings. Wayne pressed on the backs of her thighs with such force that she 
was tilted sharply onto the harder frame of the chair with her buttocks 
pressed into his belly. His penis slashed back and forth against the pulp of 
her crotch and over the inflamed tip of her clitoris. 

Wayne's stroking ended with a slamming surge against her. Dimly Millie heard 
his grunts of effort as his shaft pulsed out its semen. With the cessation 
of his movement, she plummeted from her dizzy peak and fell forward on the 
cushion once more. 

Wayne's straining eased. "Okay, Bob. Let 'em down." 

She felt her legs released and they fell to hang straight again. Wayne's 
penis softened and he withdrew it and backed away from her. 

"Oh, my!" She sighed. "That's not light amusement!" 

Someone caressed her buttocks briefly. "Not really light," he said. "Pretty 
fast, though." 

"I like it." 

For a time, no one said anything while she hung limp and helpless on the 
chair. It was a little like it had been right after the first episode when 
she'd lain on the drafting table helpless and exposed. Only she'd been 
burning with the stimulus of the absinthe then, and her whole being had 
thrilled to the knowledge that her body, never seen before in such a lewd 
posture, was the object of full and leisurely attention. She was most likely 
the object of just as much attention now, but it wasn't new this time. 
Curiously, Millie was as keyed up internally as she'd been then, even though 
she knew the absinthe had long since cleared her system. After such a wild 
orgasm, she ought to be sinking to a non-sensitive state that would make her 
impervious to further arousal. But she was well aware that the next touch 
would jerk her to eager readiness. That fact was an ominous reflection on 
some mysterious change that was taking place in her mind. 

Millie's nerves leaped when hands closed on her bare sides, then calmed a 
little when she realized she was simply being lifted from the chair. It was 
Bob who righted her. She studied him curiously. He seemed to regard sex-and 
women in general-in a different light than either Wayne or Paul. It was 
natural for a bachelor to take another view from that of married men. But 
the difference she felt seemed unlike that. There was something in his 
manner that made her recall the sick apprehension she'd felt when she met 
him last night. As familiar as they had become since then, she should either 
have thrown off the feeling or confirmed its validity. She hadn't. And now 
it had returned stronger than ever. 

She would be petrified with fear if she ever found herself alone with Bob. 
There was a sardonic gleam behind his light banter that suggested he'd 
delight in another's agony. His tension each time she was being tied up went 
far beyond the natural excitement Wayne and Paul showed. The way Bob 
struggled for self-control-carefully as he masked it-now made Millie guess 
that if he were alone with her, he'd waste no time in subjecting her to the 
worst possible tortures. 

She had no idea what flicker of an eyelash or twitch of a finger had brought 
her fears into focus. There would be more intensive sex play as the day wore 
on and there was no way to prevent Bob's using her again. But her impression 
of his character was clear: her response to Bob would be something other 
than it would be to the others. She might well find herself aroused to a 
fever pitch of excitement under his urging ... she might even find herself 
in the aggressive role with him ... but it would be in the same context as 
the daring of the lion tamer or the snake charmer. 

Paul smiled at her. "Whatever you're thinking, it's too sober, puss," he 
said. 

"Sorry. You forgot to tie up my mind." 

"Ouch! No fair!" 

She didn't mean to hurt Paul; he'd been more than decent if she considered 
the situation. She smiled contritely. "Don't feel bad. I didn't mean it to 
be nasty." 

"Let's see how you did mean it." There was a grave note beneath his casual 
lightness. He came to her and unfastened the knots. His hand closed over 
hers and he led her to the couch. "You're too nice to wind up mad at me," he 
murmured under his breath. 

Millie sank onto the couch beside Paul and let him turn her and pull her 
across his body. He held her quietly for a time while she studied the lines 
of his face. He had a sensitive mouth, she thought, and she hadn't had to 
kiss him yet. Maybe she'd missed something pleasant. He had laugh crinkles 
at the corners of his eyes, too, and a smooth forehead. His eyes were funny, 
though. With dark hair she expected darker eyes, but his were a gray-green, 
like pictures she'd seen of the winter ocean. 

Paul's arms tightened almost imperceptibly and a subconscious urge made 
Millie's hands steal up them. She lay curled on the couch on her right side. 
Her right hand came to rest on his shoulder. Her left crept to the back of 
his neck and she rolled in his arms so her breasts were against him. When 
she turned her face up again, it was only inches from his. He bent his neck 
and touched her lips with his. A warm glow spread over Millie and she thrust 
her lips up into the pressure. The glow deepened and became an all-over 
tingle and she worked her mouth more tightly against his. Under the force of 
her impulsive response, Paul's lips parted and she felt the hardness of his 
teeth behind them. That was how a kiss was supposed to feel, she thought 
absently, her own lips parting and drinking at his. 

She let her head roll slowly from side to side and squirmed each time the 
gentle puff of his breath warmed her cheek. Her right hand slipped from his 
shoulder to his back and her fingers clutched tenderly at him. Almost 
without being aware of what she was doing, Millie slid her tongue forward 
and let its tip touch Paul's upper lip. He started, then thrust his tongue 
to meet the intrusion. Their tongues jabbed at each other and harsh shudders 
ran down Millie's body. She closed her lips over the tip of Paul's tongue 
and sucked at it. He let it glide into her greedy mouth and submitted to her 
sucking and the caresses her tongue gave his. Millie felt a stirring against 
the bare skin of her right side and knew that his penis was stiffening and 
rising to her. 

Her breath came faster and her muscles rippled as the kiss continued. The 
stirring against her skin became a hard pressure against one of the 
lace-shaped bulges and she cautiously slid her hand from Paul's back to his 
lap. Her fingers encountered the hardened shaft, fumbled to close around it, 
her thumb felt over the knob that pressed into her flesh. Paul's arms 
tightened again and she felt his belly grow taut beneath her. She squeezed 
with her hand, rubbing the head of his penis slowly on her skin. 

Paul held her with his left arm and ran his right hand down her upper side 
to her thigh. After resting his palm at the edge of her hem for a moment, he 
slipped it under her skirt and back up on her tingling flesh to close it 
over her buttocks. Millie stiffened abruptly and swallowed. Her hand jerked 
convulsively at his penis. Paul kneaded her buttocks with his fingers and 
slowly worked his hand around their curvature to their creases and into the 
moisture of her crotch. 

At the storm of sensations that burst through her, Millie wrenched free from 
his kiss and twisted wildly. She let go of his penis and pushed frantically 
at his arm until he drew it from around her. Then she flung herself face 
down on him, seizing his penis again and crushing her lips against its 
swollen head. Paul gasped and clutched at her labia with his finger working 
aimlessly. Millie pulled herself back and stretched on her side, her elbows 
supporting her upper torso, her face lowered over the blunt penis in her 
hands. 

The underside lay exposed and she set her teeth on each side of the 
protruding band of muscle fiber. She nipped gently, moving her bite 
progressively from the base of the shaft to the head, then worked her mouth 
back along its length, scraping its surface with her tingling lips. 

Paul groaned softly. He let himself down facing her writhing body. She felt 
his hands again holding her buttocks as he buried his face in her luxuriant 
pubic hair. Her thighs twitched and she raised her left knee. Paul's mouth 
pressed through her thatch and isolated the mound of her clitoris, his lips 
closing over the smooth lump sucking gently. 

Millie cried out with pleasure and gnawed at the side of his penis; then as 
he swung his legs onto the couch and stretched them before her, Millie 
pulled herself over him and rested her breasts on his belly. 

She cupped her hand under his scrotum and lifted his testicles, kissing the 
hairy, wrinkled skin of the bag. Hesitantly she extended her tongue to lick 
at it. Paul's thighs quivered and his fingers squeezed her bottom while he 
drew the flesh around her clitoris into his mouth. Millie babbled over the 
mass at Paul's groin. She felt confused and helpless with his testicles and 
penis so utterly at her disposal-"the flexing muscles under Paul's matted 
pubic hair so clearly leaping with the excitement she'd induced. 

She kissed the underside of his penis head and touched the slit with the tip 
of her tongue to pick up the bead of clear fluid that stood in it. The flat 
taste made her shiver. With a rush of desire Millie pressed her lips to the 
spot and sucked hard to draw out what remained hidden inside the passage. 
Paul's hips tightened and his groin thrust upward with a compulsive jerk. 
Waves of hard giddiness were hammering Millie. Her hand clutched desperately 
at the pulsing organ. She laid her mouth on it, each lip going halfway 
around a side, and scraped with her teeth. There was a sharp shudder in 
Paul's thighs and his testicles jerked to the top of the long bag. 

Paul's hands grasped her hips and he lifted, swinging and rolling her so her 
body was held over his and her knees lay astride his head. He pulled her 
toward his face and she hung onto his penis as if she were in danger of 
losing it. She felt his mouth close over her clitoris and suck vigorously, 
and her thighs hardened and contracted in an effort to drive her hips upward 
and her crotch away from the intolerable stimulus. But Paul's hands pressed 
downward on her buttocks, held her in place, while her legs thrashed and her 
body twisted. 

She raised his penis from where it lay on his belly and pressed her lips to 
its tip, running them slowly downward over the swelling sides and around the 
ridge at the back of its head. The bulb filled her mouth and her tongue 
rubbed tenderly across the flared back and curled around the ridge. She 
sucked and thrust her face forward to force Paul's penis to the back of her 
mouth and drive her lips down the shaft. Her jaw was widely distended and 
her teeth rested on the shaft, her upper teeth against the softer underside 
and her lower against the shell-like sheath. The tapering head flattened her 
tongue to the floor of her mouth. She surged downward until the rounded tip 
lodged at the back of her throat. 

Millie's throat tissues swelled and hardened. Her breath was cut off, but 
she sucked hard on the enormous mouthful while Paul's mouth released her 
clitoris and his tongue probed into the trough between her labia. When her 
lungs burned for air, she drew her head back, dragging her teeth on his 
shaft until they lodged against the ridge of the head. She breathed hard and 
sucked again, her head bobbing with the sucking rhythm and her lips sliding 
forward and back on the imprisoned shaft. Her hand encircled the base of the 
shaft and jerked up and down from the base of her lips, the skin wrinkling 
ahead of her hand when she stroked toward her mouth, stretching taut when 
she slammed her hand downward. 

She could hear her own voice coming in muffled groans through the drawn 
flesh of her cheeks and feel it humming at the roof of her mouth. There were 
abrupt flurries of wet, sucking noises from where Paul had sucked a mouthful 
of her labial flesh between his teeth. He was chewing and sucking at the 
same time with her tissues crowded around his extended tongue. Fingers of 
intense excitement stabbed into Millie and sent tingles racing over her 
skin. 

She was propped on her elbows, each elbow resting on the couch on opposite 
sides of Paul's hips. Her breasts swayed against his belly with the thinly 
clothed nipples dragging through bristling hair. Millie's belly scrubbed his 
chest and her legs churned, her thighs alternately clamping against the 
sides of his head and thrusting wide apart. But Paul still held her surging 
buttocks down so her clitoris ground against his chin. She shuddered 
continually while her hand jerked and stripped his shaft and her lips worked 
against its hard surface. Her tongue scrubbed the trapped head as she 
sucked. 

Paul's knees drew up convulsively and fell away from each other. His thighs 
leaped as the tendons hardened and momentarily relaxed. Millie's right hand 
speeded its strokes and her left gently rolled his testicles against each 
other. Millie felt Paul ease the suction on her labial flesh and drive his 
tongue into her vagina. She bucked and crushed her crotch back against his 
face. His suction resumed and drew in the tissues surrounding the mouth of 
her vagina. He chewed and sucked and repeatedly stabbed his tongue into her 
and withdrew it to the very rim of her opening. 

There was a roaring in Millie's head, a wall of darkness before her eyes, as 
she jabbed her head up and down and redoubled the force of her suction. She 
felt Paul's testicles jerk violently in her palm as if he'd given a mighty 
tug to some string that was attached to them. His penis buzzed suddenly in 
her hand and leaped against the grip of her mouth. His thighs tensed and his 
belly hardened and he lifted his hips to thrust his penis deeper into her 
throat. 

Millie sensed vaguely that he'd passed some new threshold of excitement and 
even as the realization broke into her awareness a lump of hot, thick fluid 
burst against the back of her throat. Her air passage closed reflexively and 
she gulped to swallow the great gob of semen before it could back into the 
passages of her nose. Before the first swallow was complete she had to 
swallow again-and then again-and the heavy liquid still welled into the top 
of her throat and filled the spaces between her teeth and her cheeks. 
Desperate gulps barely enabled her to get the jism swallowed fast enough to 
keep it from bursting past her Ups and squirting out around Paul's shaft. 
But his contortions slowed and the fluid sprang more slowly from his penis. 
Millie felt her cheeks bulge less as she began to down more of it than she 
accepted into her mouth. 

Even as the last spurts erupted from his slit, Paul's penis began to soften 
and shrink. Millie sucked harder to extract any residue of semen, and she 
pulled more and more of the shriveling organ into her mouth. But it no 
longer defied the pressure of her teeth or held her head back with bar-like 
strength. 

Millie's own excitement had reached an unendurable pitch. She writhed with 
demented violence on Paul's body. He chewed harder and sucked faster and 
drove his tongue inward again and again. A spasm seized her belly and jerked 
at the tendons along her back so that it arched and pulled her thighs up and 
back and concentrated her weight on her pelvis. 

Repeated convulsions of passion shook her body while contractions squeezed 
her vagina with a fast, powerful rhythm. She released Paul's slack scrotum 
and let go of his penis with her hands and reached under his crotch to dig 
her nails into his buttocks. As Paul drove his hips upward Millie sucked the 
remainder of his flaccid organ into her mouth and burrowed her chin into the 
flesh that covered his pubic arch. She chewed distractedly on the pulp of 
his limp penis and sucked senselessly as her wild contractions ran their 
course. When they slackened, she collapsed and laid her cheek on the side of 
Paul's groin without letting his penis escape from her lips. 

Millie continued to suck the penis gently and quietly until it felt dry and 
sterile in her mouth. Then she slowly let it slip from her lips. Sighing 
deeply, she buried her face in Paul's pubic hair and rubbed her nose against 
his warm flesh. Her thighs fell away from each other and her knees rested 
limply on either side of Paul's head while his hands stroked her relaxed 
buttocks tenderly. Something rounded and broad-she decided lazily it must be 
his chin-was lodged in the depression around the mouth of her vagina and in 
the shrinking embrace of her labia, but there was no further movement or 
passion; there was only warmth and the pleasure of spent ecstasy. 

 CHAPTER ELEVEN 

Millie was aware of her surroundings in a dreamy, unreal sort of way. Her 
cheek pressed against the relaxed muscles where Paul's thigh joined his hip 
and ran into the banded abdominal muscles. Tenderly she kissed his limp 
penis from time to time while her fingers idly stroked his other thigh. .She 
felt his lips caress her shrunken labia and his teeth tug playfully and 
gently at the hair that grew from her crotch. But all urgency was gone and 
she floated in a sea of contentment and well-being. 

It would be nice to lie like this with Tom, she thought, if only it weren't 
so unconventional. Somehow it seemed so intimate and so caring to caress the 
penis that could at times stab like an unyielding stump. It made Millie feel 
warm and spoiled to have a masculine face nuzzling her unresponding love 
tissues with appreciative tenderness. But this kind of abandoned after play 
was something unique to a situation where she'd been forced to give up all 
her inhibitions and act under someone else's rules. It wasn't consistent 
with the values and standards she conducted her everyday life under. 

She heard the kitchen clock chime the hour. Ten o'clock! 

There'd been no call from Tom, and he'd made it a sacred practice on these 
trips to call her by nine if he was going to have to be away for another 
night. He'd be home today and they'd resume their normal, humdrum routine. 
Millie would look back on this twelve or eighteen hour period with an 
occasional secret thrill and a sort of wishful disbelief, never quite able 
to convince herself she'd dreamed it, and yet afraid to admit it had really 
happened. 

She heard Tracy's voice, thinking at first she was imagining it. Then 
conceding that this lassitude was out of place in the frenetic activity 
Tracy had planned. 

"Hey! You two off on a cloud somewhere?" demanded Tracy. 

"Huh?" Paul sounded reluctant to leave whatever reflections were engrossing 
him. 

"I said, we ought to be setting up for the next guy. And neither one of you 
paid any attention." 

Paul chuckled and stirred. "Too comfortable," he said. 

Tracy chuckled. "Sweet. Only Wayne's waiting for his." 

Millie felt a tingle of anticipation. She still wasn't drained of the 
capacity for response, apparently, and the notion that Wayne might be 
impatient carried with it a suspicion that Tracy's athletic husband had been 
saving some particularly stimulating favorite of his. She pulled herself 
together reluctantly and scrambled off Paul, standing and straightening her 
twisted blouse and crumpled skirt. A twinge of embarrassment tugged at her 
as she inadvertently let herself imagine how she must have looked to the 
others in the room, but she shook it off and looked covertly at the 

"waiting" Wayne. 

He slouched in one of the armchairs with his hands folded over his belly, a 
suggestive fullness to his reposing penis. One ankle rested on the other and 
he gazed quietly at her hemline, his face relaxed and thoughtful. But when 
Millie moved slowly toward him he pushed himself out of the chair and 
reached for her hand. 

"Come on, baby," he said. "Let's go upstairs." 

In the second floor hallway, he led her toward the guest room. Tom had 
gradually been remodeling for conversion to a den. It was over-sized and 
capable of multiple use. Having its own bath and a pleasant fireplace, it 
had first been used for Millie's eldest uncle and his bride to live in until 
their own house was completed. But that had been in grandfather's day when 
her own father had still been a boy. Now Tom had installed great, low beams 
below the ceiling with the intention of laying acoustical sheeting over them 
to cure the room of its excessive height. And he'd set eye-bolts into the 
beams, hanging double pulleys from them to provide a way to hoist his varied 
shop equipment out of the way when he wasn't indulging in one of his 
numerous hobbies. 

Wayne had apparently spent some time in the room last night weaving Tom's 
lines through some of the blocks. He stopped her beside the bed and fastened 
loops of stout nylon rope to her wrists and ankles. He secured a pulley to 
each loop and slipped a loop of one of the block and tackle lines onto each 
pulley. 

Millie submitted without protest, but her heart was pounding with 
apprehension. Wayne's preparations could only mean he had some notion of 
suspending her from the beams and the idea scared her. 

He took up the slack in one of the lines that ran to her arm pulleys and 
drew her left arm into the air above her head. While Paul held that line, 
Wayne hauled in the other arm line and hoisted her other arm. The two 
pulleys overhead were mounted to the same beam and were only some two or two 
and a half feet apart so that the tension on Millie's wrist drew her arms up 
with almost no spreading effect. Millie felt stretched and had little of her 
weight on her heels. 

She trembled when Wayne ran his hand over her taut torso. He caressed the 
bulges of naked flesh between the side lacings of her blouse and then 
fingered her upthrust breasts, making shivers of excitement race over her. 

She panted out of fear of what was to come next as she studied the lay of 
the other two lines. The ropes ran forward from her ankles to pulleys in 
another beam. Those pulleys were separated by four or five feet and she knew 
that her legs would be parted at a considerable angle when they were pulled 
taut. 

Wayne smiled at her and kissed her lips lightly. "You'll have fun with this 
one," he promised. "Look scary?" 

"Oh, yes!" She whispered. 

"It won't be bad." 

"I'm still scared!" 

He chuckled and began to unlace her blouse. "I want to see all of you this 
time," he told her. 

As the laces came out, the blouse hung free and the front panel draped 
straight down from where it lay over her nipples. Wayne raised it and pulled 
it over her head, then tossed it onto the bed and turned back to her. He 
stroked Millie's sides and rubbed his palms on her breasts. Her nipples 
quickly stiffened at his touch. He paused to suck briefly at each nipple and 
roll it between his teeth before unbuttoning her skirt and pulling it away 
from her hips. 

Millie twisted with renewed embarrassment. Her pubic mound thrust forward 
with her belly muscles stretched as they were. Wayne ran his hand in slow 
circles on her belly and rubbed it through her pubic hair. She squirmed and 
thrust her hips backward to escape the touch, but Tracy pulled on one of the 
wrist lines and Paul on the other. She felt herself raised until her toes 
failed to touch the floor. She was no longer able to evade Wayne's hand as 
he delicately probed at her genitalia with one finger while she squirmed and 
twisted. 

Millie discovered immediately that hanging by her arms could be a problem. 
Her weight would dislocate her shoulders very quickly if she didn't keep her 
muscles tense, she decided. It seemed to be all right to relax them for a 
few seconds at a time. 

But she wouldn't have much chance to relax them if Wayne was going to do 
things to her. The strained position seemed to heighten her sensitivity 
enormously. No matter where he touched her, it acted as a sexual stimulus 
and made her whole body tense up. The feel of his finger in her crotch made 
her jerk one arm and then the other and set her to twisting and swinging 
until she couldn't relax if she wanted to! 

Wayne grasped the free ends of the two lines from the pulleys for her ankles 
and began to haul them in. Her feet rose slowly in front of her and, as she 
kept them stiff, her buttocks were thrust backward until her legs passed the 
horizontal position. After that, her bottom swung back down and was 
gradually pulled forward until she hung at an angle. Wayne hoisted her legs 
until her feet were at a level slightly higher than her shoulders-and well 
spread-then stopped and studied her. 

"Hell, she couldn't be better," he remarked to Tracy. "Might as well snub 
the lines." 

Tracy and Paul each secured one of the wrist lines to a cleat in the row 
that Tom had installed at the wall and Wayne joined them, carefully keeping 
her ankle lines taut. While he secured them to other cleats, Millie examined 
herself. 

She was suspended in a sharp vee with her buttocks the low point. The 
pulleys supporting her ankles and wrists were too close together to stretch 
her horizontally and the pain in the backs of her knees forced her to bend 
them so that her thighs rested against her sides. Her knees were far enough 
apart to expose all of her front and she could look down at herself and see 
all too clearly how thoroughly open she was. Her breasts were elevated by 
the tension in the muscles that ran down over her shoulders and her nipples 
stood saucily tilted upward. Her belly was creased. The backs of her upper 
thighs were agonizingly taut. Her crotch bulged outward with the hair 
gleaming and the pink folds protruding and spreading away from each other. 
She hadn't been raised very far, though, and she was certain that those pink 
folds hung precisely at the level of Wayne's hips. 

Wayne returned to her and laid one hand on her left upper arm. "Perfect," he 
said softly. "Beautiful!" He stroked downward to her waist and then reached 
up to her left ankle. Again his hand slipped down, caressing her calf and 
then, more slowly, the back of her thigh. The contact sent a sharp tingle 
over Millie and made her gasp at her great sensitivity. But she was aware 
that having her legs up divided her weight so her shoulders no longer felt 
ready to come apart. 

She watched in humiliation while Wayne used both hands to stroke her thighs 
and buttocks. The pink flesh at her crotch was winking visibly and moisture 
was spreading slowly over it. Inwardly, she felt as if her labia were 
swelling like balloons and the mouth of her vagina was opening like a door. 
Wayne wasted little time in exploiting her position. He ran his fingers 
lightly over the outer surfaces of her labia. They rustled through her hair 
with such a vivid stimulating effect that she imagined she could hear the 
whisper of the hair bending and straightening. 

Even touching those relatively numb areas aroused Millie. Tightness clutched 
her breasts and her belly. Her breath became ragged. She laid her cheek 
against her right shoulder and gritted her teeth and blew through them. Her 
hands clenched and unclenched as if trying to grasp something in the air. 
She flexed her knees involuntarily, making her crotch swing forward and back 
repeatedly. 

But the hairless, bright mucous tissues attracted Wayne more than the outer 
slopes, she decided, because his fingers soon started to stroke and rub her 
quivering inner parts. She could only shut her eyes and wallow in the waves 
of feeling that sensation produced. Heat flashed through her. Muscles she 
couldn't even detect snapped taut then relaxed, only to tighten again. Her 
belly writhed and her hips twisted from side to side. Pleasure welled in 
her, so intense that it felt almost the same as deep sorrow. Her moans were 
moans of anguish in the delirium of her ecstasy and real tears hung on her 
eyelashes. 

She realized dimly that every sense was amplified and reinforced by 
psychological factors-the brutal humiliation of her lascivious posture-and 
again by the extreme tautness of her main muscles and tendons. She'd surely 
rise to her orgasm faster this time than she ever had in her life. But 
because her sensations were going to be more intense, it would surely be one 
of the most violent orgasms she'd ever had, too. The thought persisted, even 
after the fleeting rationale lost itself in the swirling mists of passion 
and had added its part to her heightening awareness. 

For the first time in her sex experience, Millie could actually tilt her 
head far enough forward to see the mouth of her vagina when her labia were 
parted. She watched the things Wayne did with her. His finger traced 
patterns over the broad zones of her exposed pink flesh. The pink was 
already darkening fast with the inrushing blood. His finger left a lighter 
trail that only slowly recovered its flush. Millie's moisture had spread in 
a thin coat that caught and reflected the light and lubricated his finger's 
movements to give them the feel of gliding pressure without friction. As the 
pressure moved, each depressed nerve ending pulsed its sudden, urgent 
message of sexual arousal into her. 

Millie could see the puffy flesh writhing with a slow, hypnotic rhythm that 
wasn't rhythm but beat. And the gaping rim of the dark crater of her vaginal 
mouth yawned alternately wider and narrower with smooth deliberation that 
reminded her of a slow-motion film she'd once seen of the food-seeking 
movements of a hungry sea anemone. 

It embarrassed Millie to watch that slow, blind gulping, and at time the 
embarrassment became so strong that it smothered her and made her gasp for 
air. But it would have been infinitely worse, she thought, if the mouth were 
larger. At least it was small and firm-appearing, small enough to feel an 
inward-thrust finger. And it would clutch tightly to an object the size of a 
penis-stretching to accept it, of course, but clutching it in the embrace of 
mating passion. 

Wayne set his fingertips in the long hollows at the outer edges of her labia 
and pressed the funneled inner surfaces with his thumbs, drawing his thumbs 
slowly outward and moving them back to the very edges of Millie's vaginal 
mouth to repeat the outward strokes. Each stroke sent fiery ripples of 
hungry excitement pulsing inward and made her hold her breath and bear down. 
The aching desire that welled in the interior of her belly was unbelievable, 
and her knees learned how to flex in unison in a way that made her bottom 
swing outward sharply and fall back gently. Millie moaned in low tones and 
sudden little whimpers when the passion surged too abruptly. 

Wayne stood closer and looked up from her jerking crotch to gaze into her 
eyes. She returned the gaze openly for a moment, pouring her eagerness and 
joy into her stare for him to read, then felt herself flush with the inner 
knowledge of what she was silently saying to him and dropped her lashes to 
hide her emotions. 

She saw his body and the tremors in his upright penis and the way his 
testicles had drawn up into the neck of his scrotum. And she saw and felt 
Wayne's hand being laid flat on the contours of her vulva while his other 
hand belatedly caressed her heated breasts. The thumb at her crotch doubled 
under and Millie felt it press into her labial trough and dip on the edge of 
her vaginal mouth. It pushed inward and stretched the greedy mouth and 
thrust its length into her cavity. Wayne twisted his hand so his fingers 
curved under the roundness of her bottom. She felt one of his fingers settle 
at her rectum and thrust upward until it burst through her taut sphincter 
and buried itself within her rectal passage. 

At the dual penetration, Millie cried out with savage delight and thrashed 
her hips. She jerked herself upward repeatedly-and repeatedly let herself 
drop onto the supporting pressure of the thumb and finger. 

Wayne smiled approvingly and ran his other hand back down to pinch her 
clitoris. The triple stimulus drove her into a frenzy of violent 
contortions. Her emotions churned and her nerves "buzzed" so powerfully that 
she was filled with unreasoning amazement that she wasn't coming. Her teeth 
chattered and her arms and thighs jerked fiercely. 

Her breasts danced while Wayne leaned closer to catch one of the nipples 
between his lips. The sudden suction added only a subtle undercurrent in the 
river of boiling sensations, but it was like an alchemist's secret 
precipitator and it tore a frantic plea from her. 

"Oh, please!" She panted and had to force the words through clenched teeth. 
"Oh, God! Please let me come, Wayne!" 

His reply was barely audible. "I will. I'm going to fuck you, Millie." 

Fuck her. He was going to fuck her. The phrase whispered through her fibers 
and trickled along her veins and echoed eerily in the comers of her 
consciousness. It evoked hard thrills beneath her skin. In a giddy rush of 
mental shouting she had the weird feeling that his promise should have 
alarmed her, but she felt no real reaction but fierce joy and impatience. 

"Yes!" she whispered. "Yes, Wayne, yes!" 

Millie dug her chin into the hollow at the top of her chest and gazed 
without blinking while he withdrew his thumb and finger and laid the head of 
his penis in the midst of her livid vulvular tissues. The hard roundness of 
the great bulb rested solidly on the firm rim of her vaginal mouth and she 
felt a pulsing at the ring of contact. There was a steadily growing pressure 
and Millie sensed the stretching of her guarding muscles. His penis sank 
inward while the surrounding pulp of her labia bulged aside and a hot 
throbbing grew and spread from the fusing zone. Millie willed her body to 
rigidity, holding her breath and curling her toes to save herself from 
involuntarily slamming herself onto the engorged organ. Without her 
consciously wishing, her whole being ached for the thrill of a slow, 
deliberate penetration. She wanted to savor the terrible beauty of sensation 
to the absolute limit of her capacity and dreaded an unplanned twitch that 
would cut the ecstasy short. 

The purpling ring that formed the edges of her vaginal mouth crept over the 
increasing diameter of the disappearing head until it gleamed brightly at 
the flared shoulder, and then, suddenly, it slipped over and clamped around 
the following shaft. She let her breath out with a gusty, sighing moan and 
felt herself settle onto the sliding cylinder. The bulk of the penis 
awakened internal tingles as it wedged its way up her vaginal passage. The 
walls of her passage clung to it and squeezed it as it passed. It reached 
the inner end and continued to advance. 

Millie felt a familiar but weird inner stretching as her barrel receded 
before the pressure. 

The bony hardness of the base of Wayne's penis bore finally against the 
spongy fullness of her vulva and flattened it. She sensed that her eyes were 
bulging and her mouth was straining open as if the monstrous head had 
reached her throat and were going to thrust out through her distended jaws. 

Then Millie gave way with her first gingerly thrusts against Wayne's groin. 
His pubic hair was a bristly mat with wire-ends that stabbed her raw flesh 
in a thousand prickles. The tops of his thighs pressed the lower roundness 
of her buttocks and his belly rode on the bulge of her love mound. 

His hips began a slow, even pumping and she watched with fascinated delight 
as the light skin of his penis pulled out of her and into sight and then 
plunged again and again into her voracious cavity. Timing her motions with 
desperate care, Millie swung herself away from Wayne's groin and back into 
it, meeting each of his thrusts with one of her own. But, as the tempo 
gradually increased, she found her control inadequate. She thrilled with 
unspoken gratitude when Wayne clutched at her thighs and began to regulate 
her swings. 

The faster their rhythm became, the more brutal the force with which Wayne 
slammed against her. And the greater the amplitude of movement he forced on 
her. 

When Millie's excitement mounted to where her entire body burned with a 
raging fire of pleasure, Wayne was thrusting her outward until his entire 
shaft was exposed, white and veined and shining with her thick, slippery 
fluid. Only the bulkier head remained inside her. Then he was crashing her 
back onto, the shaft with a rush that threatened to drive the head of his 
penis through the tortured membrane of her vagina. Millie's clitoris felt 
bruised and flattened and its incessant, jangling pulses of ecstatic 
sensation made her body shake wildly. 

Millie flung her head back and stared unseeing toward the overhead beams. 
Her voice was hoarse with her continuous cries of delight. Her chest ached 
with the need for more air. She felt a terrifying tightness growing 
throughout her belly and a monumental tension gathering around the mouth of 
her vagina. With a startled scream and a convulsive spasm she felt the 
clutching mouth clamp inward on its driving prisoner. The contraction rolled 
up the length of her barrel and was followed by another and another. 
Blackness settled over her and her head pounded with sudden violent 
pressure. Her body stiffened and its hardened muscles buzzed with an awesome 
tremor. She was subconsciously aware of an answering tremor in the hot flesh 
that crushed against her and of an explosive gushing of heat into the inner 
end of her vaginal channel. She hung for what seemed an eternity on the 
erupting penis and shook with her greedy, semen-demanding contractions. But 
the intensity finally broke. 

Her body slowly lost its uncontrollable hardness and one muscle after 
another loosened. Wayne continued to crush Millie's crotch against the bony 
structure of his groin, but the penis within her belly gradually softened 
and shrank. 

Millie shuddered and brought her head forward. Wayne tilted his face and 
pressed his warm mouth to hers. The kiss was wet and sloppy-an 
acknowledgement of success rather than a preliminary to trail-and it 
triggered a rush of satisfied relaxation to replace the former slower 
running down. 

Millie never could remember the actual withdrawal of Wayne's penis, nor 
being lowered from her coital position. But she would never forget the 
sensation of finding herself standing on the balls of her feet, her arms 
still tightly extended over her head and Paul and Bob both amusing 
themselves by exploring her taut curves with their hands. 

"Oh, no," she whispered weakly. "Let me rest for a while." 

"Go ahead and rest," replied Bob with mockery in his voice. "We can reach 
what we want." 

But Paul gently kissed one of her nipples and backed away. 

"Why'n'tcha go on," suggested Bob to the others. "I'll get 'er down in a few 
minutes. I just want to mess around a little bit." He grinned 
self-consciously. "Somethin' special about this way." 

The others hesitated, and then left the room. But Tracy paused in the 
doorway and turned toward Bob. 

"She's not expendable, Bob," she said in low tones. "Remember that." 

Without glancing up, Bob said, "Shut the door." Tracy pulled the door closed 
behind her. Millie sagged momentarily on her agony-ridden arms, letting her 
knees go limp and her belly protrude. She was alone and utterly helpless in 
the hands of the one man she feared and loathed. 

 CHAPTER TWELVE 

Bob ran his hands lovingly and slowly over every part of Millie's body. She 
feared him so intensely that the continued contact built her panic to the 
breaking point. Finally she shrieked. With the first piercing wail she found 
herself unable to stop. Her screams filled the room and reverberated from 
wall to wall. Bob leaned close to her face and grinned with an evil 
expression. 

"That's the way I like a woman," he said, and she could hear the hissed 
words even through her screams. 

She chopped off the sounds in mid-cry, her throat constricting until no air 
could get past it. 

"Scream, baby!" he urged. "Scream when you feel like it. That'll make you 
come harder. And you're going to like it my way." He turned and went to the 
chest of drawers. "Brought something in special for you." He returned and 
extended his hand to show her what it held. 

"Oh, God, no!" she exclaimed through her aching throat. "Oh, no, Bob!" 

A pile of jumbled straight pins lay on his palm, their points glinting in 
the light. He looked from them to her and back into his palm. 

"You got lotsa pincushions, baby," he said with a hiss. "Big tits and fat 
ass and all that stuff. Oughta be able t' stick one right on the length o' 
your clit, I bet!" He dragged the tip of his tongue over his lips and his 
eyes burned madly. "Man, will you come hard! Man, wait'll you see how hard I 
come!" 

"Oh, no ... Dear God no!" 

There was a sound at the door and it opened to admit Tracy with Wayne and 
Paul at her heels. 

"Bob." Tracy's voice had the quality of ripping silk. "Bob, you sonovabitch, 
she's our friend!" 

"Shit, Sis! A handful o', pins never hurt anybody! You been that route!" 

Tracy's eyes narrowed and glittered and her lips compressed. "I've been that 
route," she admitted. "Hanging from a tree limb the way she's hanging from 
that beam. Fifteen and a virgin and thinking we were playing 'pioneer and 
Indian' for thrills." She reached. "Give me those goddamn pins, Roberto." 

Bob's face registered disappointment and an oddly boyish resentment. "Aw, 
hell, Sis! All right. Here." 

Tracy took the pins and Bob stamped out of the room. Wayne and Paul loosened 
the lines and lowered Millie's arms. Tracy caught her as she collapsed. 

"Come on, darling," said Tracy in a soothing tone. "Walk off the stiffness." 

Millie walked off her stiffness and took advantage of the break to calm her 
nerves. Her premonition about Bob had been frighteningly true. And Tracy's 
intuition and knowledge of her brother had been the only thing that had 
saved her from an agonizing experience. If Bob got another chance, he might 
manage it in such a way as to forestall such interference. She could only 
pray that the chance wouldn't come to him. 

"What time is it?" she asked. 

Wayne replied. "The hall clock downstairs said noon a few minutes ago. Why?" 

Millie sighed happily. "Tom didn't call this morning to say he'd be in 
Denver another day. He ought to be here by one o'clock." 

Wayne looked startled. "The hell you say! We're out of time, then!" 

Tracy smiled and squeezed Millie's hand. "We don't need any more time, 
darling. Anything else we decided to do would just be for our own fun." 

"Huh?" But he looked as if he understood. "Millie's learned what she needed 
to." 

Whatever that was, Millie thought wryly. She'd learned ah unbelievable 
amount about perverted sex practices, all right, and that she could have 
fantastic fun doing them. But that was under duress and without any option. 
When Tracy and Wayne and the others left, less than an hour from now, they'd 
take that chapter of her life with them. 

Tom would never know what had happened and she'd put it out of her mind. 
With patience and understanding she'd complete the remolding she'd started 
long ago on Tom's tastes. And he'd lose the last of his novelty-hunger. And 
if some dark creature in the back of her mind occasionally twisted her 
desires with reminders of the ecstasy she'd felt with these deviant acts ... 
well, maybe she'd have to sacrifice in private; maybe she'd have to secret 
herself in a locked room or a remote clearing in the woods and act out a 
fantasy to relieve the pressure. 

It came to her with a belated rush that her one obsessive resolve--the 
determination to save the ultimate intimacy for Tom-had evaporated in the 
new den. Where the realization should have brought a flood of horror and 
self-condemnation, she was uncomfortably aware that no such reaction 
existed. The truth was, she decided, that Tom had lost nothing. That act 
took nothing-and left an intangible increment of emotional capacity each 
time it was performed. 

She put aside her revery in the bustle of straightening the house and 
assisting her guests-or should she call them captors, she wondered-as they 
got ready to leave. In the moment of waving to them from the back door as 
they slipped among the spruce, she noted that she was still naked, except 
for the high-laced sandals. Millie rushed back into the house to find the 
clothes Wayne had removed from her. 

She'd hardly finished lacing her blouse and was still in the den, 
reflectively studying the pulleys on the beams, when she heard the front 
door open downstairs. She bounded down the steps and into Tom's arms with 
glad cries of welcome. He caught her to him and crushed her lips with his 
kiss. Then he stiffened and held her tighter. 

After a long pause he held her away from him and gazed at her. "Holy 
Christ!" he exclaimed softly. "How did you know what I was going to need 
when I got home?" 

She felt her face color. "I...." She hesitated. "Well, it's been so long." 

"Yeah. Well, it's hard, now, puss. Want to go upstairs?" 

"After awhile." She leaned toward him and he pulled her back into his arms 
with savage urgency. 

She'd blown it, she reflected. She'd never worn this blouse for him without 
a bra and some other blouse or something under it. And when he finally 
discovered that there wasn't anything under her skirt he'd be climbing the 
walls! He'd be on the verge of an orgasm almost before he could get his 
clothes off! And there was no way of guessing what wildly perverted thing he 
might be tempted to try. 

She brought her mental wanderings up short. Perverted? Hadn't she used that 
word once too often? The perverted acts she had in mind were things that 
were fun. They were things that brought intense pleasure to a race of 
creatures who survived because of built-in instincts to make them 
pleasure-seeking! No race really had to know how the things that gave 
pleasure fitted into the long range pattern of race survival. It was 
sufficient that the instinct be obeyed. 

And besides, there was a terrible, irresistible, hungry tenderness in her 
for Tom. God, how she wanted to make him feel the depths of excitement and 
pleasure she'd felt in the past day! 

"Honey," she whispered against his lips. "Oh, honey!" She found the zipper 
pull on his trouser fly and pushed it down and reached inside to close her 
fingers around his suddenly erect penis. 

Tom gasped and stiffened; his hands clutched at her. Millie unfastened 
buttons on his clothes, then tore at them in her frantic desire to have his 
naked body at her command. They laughed and tussled and wound up on the 
floor in a violent embrace. Her skirt somehow had gotten wadded at her 
waist. The lacing on the left side of her blouse had broken and come away. 
Millie clamped one of Tom's thighs between hers and ground her crotch 
against the hard muscles that welcomed her. And she brushed the front of her 
blouse to one side so she could rub her nipples in the silky chest hair that 
made Tom so different. 

She kissed his great shoulders and nipped at the chest that made her look 
like a tiny copy of an adult while clutching at the upright penis that was 
too thick for her hand to circle. He was the mountain spirit in the flesh, 
she'd whispered to him more than once. And he'd admitted, sometime between 
her agreeing to marry him and the day of the wedding, that he could survive 
only here in the majestic Rockies. Because, he'd quietly told her, only in 
the shadow of their immensity could his own grotesque bulk go unchallenged. 

His hands closed around Millie's waist and his arms swung her high into the 
air above him while he laughed gaily up at her. His teeth glistened against 
his lips and his forehead wrinkled until the edge of his hair touched his 
eyebrows. His feet lifted and his long toes curled against her ankles 
suggestively. With a thrill of hard desire, Millie reacted to the tentative 
touch by arching her back and thrusting her legs apart to the limit of their 
freedom. And she ran her hands down his iron-ridged arms with her fingers 
burrowing through the hair. 

"Oh, honey," she said again. "I love you so, honey!" 

Tom lowered her and rocked with her, and then Millie scrambled to her knees 
and dropped with her face over his tree-trunk penis. She grasped it in both 
hands and showered the massive head with kisses, her tongue lapping 
vigorously at the slit between times. His blunt fingers toyed with her 
wobbling buttocks and stroked the crevice between her labia, and then one of 
them drove deep into her vagina. He pushed and Millie's hips left the floor. 
She knew he was unaware of the fact that he was lifting her by that buried 
digit. 

She opened her mouth to its widest distension and forced her lips painfully 
over the dome of his penis head, sucking with desperate abandon. To hell 
with convention, she thought. To hell with inhibitions and the traditions of 
the "gentlefolk" and the race-destructive taboos created by self-appointed 
prophets of propriety! Majestic Valley had proven itself grand enough to 
absorb one atavism without commotion-to provide refuge to an outsider 
without anything to call "his kind": it could surely adapt to atavistic 
reversion in one of its own! 

Millie sucked harder and let the immensity of the brutal knob flatten her 
tongue and swell her cheeks. But Tom pulled her gently away from the giant 
staff and held her. 

"You want it that way, puss?" he asked in the organ tones of his love-voice. 
"That what you want?" 

"I want what you want most, honey," she said softly. "I want it any way you 
do. Any way!" 

"I love you, Millie-doll. I'll never understand you, but I'll always love 
you." 

"And I love you. I love you exactly the way you are." 

"Yeah. Sure. You'll make a human being out of me yet, and I'll love you all 
the time you're doing it." 

"I love you the way you are," she repeated herself with gentle insistence. 
"There'll be no more changing." 

He was silent for a time. Then, "You mean that, don't you?" 

"Yes!" She said it fiercely. "Now ... any way you want, honey, but fuck me! 
Now!" 

Tom's contented laugh reverberated through the house. "Like you say, puss. 
Come down here!" And he cuddled her in his arms, his lips rubbery as they 
plucked at her flesh. 


THE END
