LLP-119 The Reluctant Neighbor
by Peter Jenkins


Chapter 1

Marily lay back on the rumpled bed as though she were a broken rag 
doll. Her legs were spread obscenely apart, one knee slightly bent, her 
breast jutting out from her chest, and one arm limp across her sperm-
filled stomach. She was watching her next door neighbor, the man who 
had just raped her putting his clothes on. She looked at him from the 
depth of her dark brown eyes, keeping him in focus, not wanting to see 
what she was looking at, but staring, not missing one movement that he 
made. Masculine was the only word that came to her mind. It almost 
amused her that he would put on his shirt before he did his under-
drawers, that his now limp penis hung down beyond the tails of his 
shorts. Her own husband would never dress in such a disorganized 
manner.

Peter buttoned his shirt carefully, then knotted his tie, then reached 
to the floor for his jock shorts. He glanced at the voluptuous young 
woman laying on the bed, sprawled, her thighs still open and wet, and 
wanted to go back to her, to burn and scald her as he had done moments 
before. But, he felt as though she were staring a hole through him, 
looking at him but seeing what he could only guess at. He put one leg 
then the other through the shorts, then pulled them up around his 
waist. He reached inside, adjusted his still half erect prick so that 
it rode where it should, then took up his trousers and put them on, 
buttoned the buttons, then cinched up his belt. He took his coat from 
the chair and rammed his arms through it, then sat on the same chair 
and put on his shoes and socks. Then he stood and faced her. "Look," he 
hesitated, talking down to her on the bed from his six feet two inch 
height, "You were good. And, I'll be back again. I know you enjoyed it 
even if I did have to force you a little at first."

He leaned slightly forward, wanting to shake the eerie feeling that she 
gave him, wishing that she would say one word, any word, so that he 
could be sure that she was hearing what he said. She didn't and her 
eyes remained as void as they had been when he began speaking. "I'll 
have to go now. I'll see you tomorrow. And just remember that I came 
here by your invitation. I don't think you'll tell old Fred anyway. And 
I don't think he'd care one way or the other. So, see you later." He 
turned from her, left the bedroom, walked down the hall, then went 
through the front door, banging it arrogantly shut behind him. Marily 
heard his tread on the hall floor, then the closing of the door, then 
silence. She found herself wishing he would have, at least, gone out 
the back way so the other neighbors wouldn't have seen him leaving ... 
but, oh what the hell. What did it all matter anyway? She lay as she 
was, wondering why she was so cold, so unrelated to what had happened, 
then was grateful for the pain that reminded her that she had been 
raped, used, like a whore by her neighbor, a neighbor she had just met. 
She forced herself to go over all the events that led up to that sudden 
happening one hour ago.

When, she wondered, had he first noticed her. In the garden? Through 
the window? Why hadn't he spoke to her before today, or at least to 
Fred? It didn't make sense. She didn't know him, except that his name 
was Peter Aiken and that his wife was a pathetic little thing, involved 
in community projects, held an office in the parent teacher association 
where their daughter attended school in the second grade, and puttered 
around the garden, occasionally holding long monologues with herself 
while talking to Marily, who knew that she wasn't supposed to listen, 
to answer, just be a form for the woman to talk at. But she never saw 
him, or only rarely, going from his car to the house or from his house 
to his car.

When had he noticed her?

Not that it really mattered, she told herself. He obviously had. Not 
only had he noticed her, but apparently he had been planning to use her 
as he had just done, for some time. Her thoughts went back to the 
morning, to the beginning of her day. She had tumbled from her bed when 
the alarm had made its first maddening sound, and looked over to Fred's 
bed. He had been snoring softly, curled into the ball shape that he 
preferred for sleeping, and then had gone to the bathroom, had shaken 
Fred awake ever so gently, then kissed him on the forehead, then had 
gone to the kitchen and started the coffee, made the orange juice, put 
on the bread and butter and toaster on the table, then had walked 
outside to smoke a cigarette. She grimaced with the thought of smoking 
in the garden. Fred did not smoke, could not stand the smell of smoke 
in the house. Maybe, her mind warned, she had been seen by Peter then, 
in the garden, early in the morning, blowing her lonely clouds of 
smoke. But, it had to be before today, she thought. He didn't seem the 
type to do things so suddenly without some kind of previous plan.

Then, what had she done. She tried to recall, her mind telling her that 
she had done what she had done every morning or what seemed like 
millions of years. She had gone back into the house as soon as she had 
finished her cigarette, knowing that Fred would be stepping out of the 
shower, then he would be in the kitchen within minutes. She had gone to 
the small bathroom and brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth with 
mouthwash to get rid of the odor of cigarette smoke. Then she had 
returned to the table, took her place, put two pieces of toast in the 
toaster, and looked as Fred came through the door, dressed for work, 
ready for his breakfast.

With Fred gone she had cleared the table, put the few dishes in the 
dishwasher with the ones from the evening meal, set the dial to wash, 
then had gone to the garden again to smoke. Then she remembered. She 
had had a strange feeling in the garden, as though there were another 
presence there other than her own. Yes! Exactly! She could remember it 
now, the goose bumps on her flesh, the feeling that someone was 
watching her every moment, that behind a bush someone waited, breathed 
and watched her. But it had only been a fleeting emotion, she reminded 
herself. But, her mind said a significant one. Perhaps that was the 
first warning sign of the danger that was to burst upon her later. 
Later she had decided to work in the garden, to trim up a hedge, to cut 
a few branches off a rose bush, perhaps to rid herself of the 
unreasonable fear or fright that she had felt there. She did so. She 
had become so involved in her work that the time had slipped by, 
unheeded, until she grew warm. She covered her eyes with her hand and 
looked up at the sun. It was almost mid-way in the sky. She had laughed 
to herself. She had been in the garden much longer than she thought. 
She went into the kitchen, washed her hands, then made herself a 
sandwich and a glass of tea, put them on a tray and returned to the 
garden, she had been there only a moment when she had been interrupted 
by Peter Aiken's sudden presence. She had felt grateful for the 
interruption, she remembered. She had smiled at him, then ran a hand 
over her hair, thinking that she must be a mess since she hadn't looked 
in the mirror since just after getting out of bed.

"Hello. I'm Peter Aiken. From next door." He said, then paused, waiting 
for her recognition of him. "Yes, I know. I'm Marily Spencer. I know 
your wife--I mean, we have spoken together here, from one yard to the 
next." Marily had smiled, then waited for him to continue.

"I just came over to introduce myself actually. I came home for lunch, 
which I do occasionally, and found a note from my wife. She had to go 
to a meeting she had forgotten about. Anyway I saw you here and I 
thought ..." He stopped talking, leaving the thought uncompleted so 
that it had to turn into an invitation from her.

"Please. Sit down. Would you like a sandwich? I haven't much to offer 
but ..." Marily had said, turning sideways in her chair and watching 
his progress to a chair.

"No, you don't have to bother. I'm not really hungry, actually. I get 
tired of drinking lunch and so once in awhile I come home and eat." He 
smiled, revealing the most perfect white teeth she had seen in a long 
time.

"I'm afraid I can't offer you a drink. My husband, Fred, doesn't drink 
... so we don't keep it in the house." Marily finished lamely.

"I don't want a drink, thanks, but don't apologize. Somehow I knew that 
your husband didn't drink." His tone of voice had changed, a smugness 
creeping in that angered Marily.

"And how did you know that?" She had asked, not kindly.

"He looks too healthy, actually. He has that glowing, youthful flesh 
that one associates with non-drinkers." He laughed easily.

Marily had relaxed, had suddenly began to enjoy talking to him. She had 
had to admit to herself that he was a very handsome man, well-built and 
he seemed so sure of himself. And it was a pleasant break in her 
otherwise dull day.

"You don't have children?" He wanted to know. Marily felt that he 
probably knew the answer to that one, too. She had felt the impulse to 
tell him that Fred didn't want children now, maybe in a year or so, 
after he had fully adjusted to his marriage to her and his new job. But 
she didn't. She had merely said, "No. Not yet. We've only been married 
two years and ... no. We don't have children."

"Habit is hard to break, I guess. I seem to be terribly thirsty. For 
water," he smiled, standing. Marily had not wanted him to leave. She 
had felt that he had no intention of it anyway, but he did stand and 
somehow gave the impression that he would ... or that ... what? She 
asked herself. It didn't matter.

It was then that she realized that the pain was lessening, that her 
vagina was still throbbing, but the pain had gone somewhat and the more 
pleasurable sensation she had known a few moments before was slowly 
returning. She straightened her legs, pressed them together and then 
continued to think over the day.

"I have water. Come in and I'll make you a sandwich and a glass of tea. 
One must eat, you know, to keep a healthy, youthful complexion like 
Fred." She had laughed at her own joke and preceded him into the house.

Once inside the door she had remembered how she must look and for some 
strange reason she wanted to look better for this almost complete 
stranger. She asked him to sit, then excused herself and had gone 
through the bedroom, to the bathroom, and run a comb through her hair, 
deftly washed her face, straightened her blouse and returned to the 
kitchen.

It was then that the whole sordid ... sordid? Well, whatever kind of 
nightmare it had been, had begun.

Peter had stood up when she entered the kitchen, had moved toward her 
without a word and had taken her in his arms. Why had she been so 
willing? she wondered. Had she expected him to do that? Thinking back, 
she rationalized that she had not had one thought about it, one way or 
the other. It had simply happened and she had not objected, but she had 
not responded either ... unless ... the fact she had not screamed out 
and fought with all her strength against his lewd advances, could be 
considered a response.

She could feel his arms about her, much more powerful than those of 
Fred, much more sure of what he was doing and more knowledgeable about 
how to go about it. He had kissed her gently, his lips on hers, then 
his tongue had played about her lips, then over them and into her 
mouth. She had tried to push him away, but he had a firm hold on her. 
She relaxed, took his tongue in her mouth and felt a delicious 
sensation that Fred had never given her reverberating up and down her 
spine. Then her anger had spilled over, whether at her sudden 
submission to his probing tongue or at him she didn't know, and she had 
tried to push him away.

"Relax, baby. I know that husband of yours isn't enough for a little 
minx like you," he had whispered, directly into her ear, then slipped 
his mouth wetly down to her neck.

She had tried to break his hold on her, had not wanted to hear anything 
against Fred from this near stranger. She could not! But, he had lifted 
her as though she had no weight at all, and carried her into the 
bedroom. Why hadn't she cried out? she wondered, the answer to her 
question immediately there: Who would have heard her? No one! She had 
fought him with her fists, but it was no use. He had been too strong! 
Yes, that was it! That was the excuse she had been searching for: He 
was too strong!

He had placed her on the bed and then himself on top of her, had found 
her mouth with his before her full weight had sunk down into the 
mattress. He had almost suffocated her, his large tongue in her mouth, 
probing, his teeth biting and hurting her lips. "No!" she had cried out 
to the void, the space of the bedroom. "Please. No!" But it had been 
useless. He had managed to undress her and himself almost without her 
knowledge. Suddenly she had been stripped naked and was lying on the 
bed by herself, and he was up, throwing his clothes desperately over 
the chair. She had tried to escape, to get off the bed, but he had 
leaped onto it, pinning her under him. He had put her arms over her 
head, had fought with his head to turn hers and put his mouth onto her 
again, then he had himself slightly, and twisting and turning his 
stomach, had touched her sensitive flesh with his hardness, which had 
felt like steel--hot metal--laying on her stomach. He had continued to 
kiss her, to bite her lips, then had removed his mouth from hers, and 
began to suck her breasts. She had struggled, but to no avail.

The hopelessness of her situation had overwhelmed her. There was no one 
to call to, no instrument at her command that she could use to protect 
herself with. She tried to get her arms free of his, hoping to scratch 
and tear his arrogant face, but he held her firmly, arms up over her 
head and teased her ripe, full breasts, stopping only long enough to 
say, "God-damned, what a pair you have!" then his mouth had become busy 
again, biting into her flesh, then sucking her nipples into hardness 
then back to her mouth. She couldn't remember when the excitement had 
hit her, but laying now with the residing sensation in her vagina, she 
was sure it had been later even if the sensation of him kissing her had 
almost been pleasant, once she had adjusted her mind to the fact that 
it was really happening to her.

When his mouth had not covered hers she had pleaded, had implored him 
to stop. But her every word seemed only to spur him on. He had forced 
her legs apart with his muscular thighs and then shoved the head of his 
hardness into the softness between her open, defenseless legs, causing 
her to scream. He had immediately covered his mouth with hers, filled 
it with his tongue, then ground his hardened penis slowly into her 
resisting vagina. She felt as though he were killing her, as though he 
were pushing all the way through the center of her and impaling her 
with a spear to the mattress beneath her buttocks. Never had her own 
husband hurt that much, even on the night of their wedding, or any 
other night. But, then, never had she felt her husband so hard or 
excited by the feel of her body.

Peter had thrust himself inside her, all of him, splitting her and 
hurting her because she hadn't really been ready at that moment. The 
pain seared her insides and seemed to work outward to the top layer of 
her soft sensitive skin. She moaned, tried to move her hips back to rid 
herself of him, but it was hopeless. He shoved on into her, ground 
himself against her, against her words of pleading until suddenly she 
had felt the soft sacs of his testicles pressing hard against the 
sensitive hole of her anus.

Almost in a flash the pain had turned to pleasure for Marily. She had 
felt the hardness and roughness of him with every cell in her vagina, 
then there it was, the feeling that she had never had before, the 
desire that had never been opened up inside her, began begging for 
fulfillment. She knew now that he had sensed that, that where only a 
moment before she had been crying with pain, her legs had suddenly 
responded with a will of their own and had snaked desperately around 
his back, the small of it, and that they were pressing him into her. He 
released her hands and even though she had wanted to claw at his face 
only a few minutes before, she now wanted to, and did, use her hands 
behind his head to press it down onto her mouth and her neck ...

With her response, Peter had slowly begun fucking in and out of her, 
causing to build within her the fires, the desperate need of 
fulfillment that she had never before experienced. She began to move 
with him to match her rhythm to his, without wanting to, hating herself 
for her weakness, hating him because he was raping her, causing her to 
be unfaithful, against her will, until a dam broke within her and she 
tightened her hold on him, pulled him to her with all her might. And 
she had broken her silence.

"Ooooh God!" she remembered murmuring with disbelief up into his open 
mouth. "I-It's so deep inside me."

He had hooked her legs in his arms and had bent them back so far that 
her knees were even with her breasts, then moved his cock out of her 
vagina, almost all the way, with only the head of it inside the soft, 
clasping lips, then plunged back, causing her to gasp with the force of 
his passion, the pleasurable pain of him sending fire all through her 
body. He had plunged, ground against her, kissing and biting with his 
mouth, until she felt that she could no longer stand it, until she 
began to expand inside, to break and spill over with the greatest 
passion that she had ever known. She had clung to him, pressing her 
body to his, rising off the bed when he moved out of her, had caught 
him deep inside her cunt and waves of fire and relief had broken deep 
within her, then, exhausted, amazed at herself and the secrets that 
this total stranger had opened within her, lay unmoving but open wide 
for him while he increased his jabbing and plunging. He had moved 
faster and faster, his breath had come in gasps, then with a long and 
low moan he had ground within her, spewed his hot wetness inside her, 
then with piston-like movements had emptied all the remainder of his 
hot, white sperm deep down into the hidden recess of her satiated 
belly. Then dropped on top of her, his cock still in her, throbbing out 
the last dying sensations of his orgasm against the smooth, flooded 
walls of her vagina.

His prick had started to soften, then had been withdrawn from her 
leaving a thin trail of their warm secretions lying wetly across her 
thigh. He had rolled off her, then lay alongside her and tried to put 
his arm over her. Why, she didn't remember but she had knocked it away 
in a too late gesture of defiance. She had been fucked, and fucked good 
right in her own husband's bed, so why hadn't she just admitted it to 
herself instead of trying to soothe her conscience with a hypocritical 
act like that. He had taken a deep breath, then got off the bed and 
began dressing. "Look," he had said and she hadn't really listened to 
the rest.

Marily didn't know how long she had been laying as he had left her, 
nude, on the bed. She heard the front door open. She knew it was Fred, 
home from his day's work. She did not move except to pull a sheet over 
her nakedness knowing instinctively that he wouldn't approve of her 
like this.

"Marily?" Fred called, faintly, from the interior of the house. She did 
not answer. She hadn't thought of him since that morning, not at all 
since the rape upon her body. She couldn't think of anything to say to 
him now, even to answer his summons, so she said nothing. Shortly he 
entered the bedroom, looked at her on the bed, then, "Are you all 
right? Didn't you hear me call you?" Her answer was simple: "Yes."

He removed his hat, brushed it off on his coat sleeve, went to the 
closet, slid the door open, put his hat on the shelf from the exact 
position he had taken it from that morning, removed a hanger from the 
closet for his coat, then removed his coat, arranged it on the hanger, 
then brushed it before putting it in the closet. He then removed his 
shirt, folded it neatly, and put it in the dirty clothes hamper in the 
hall. He returned to the bedroom, the closet, took another hanger, of a 
different shape than the one he had used for his jacket, and then 
removed his trousers, made sure that the creases were aligned, then 
removed the hanger under them. He put that hanger in the closet also.

He then turned, sat in a chair and removed his shoes, then his socks. 
He took his socks to the same hamper into which his shirt had gone, 
then returned to the bedroom. He stood over the bed, dressed in his 
undershirt and briefs, and looked at Marily.

"Why are you in bed? In the middle of the afternoon? You've never done 
this before." He didn't wait for an answer, since she simply looked at 
him, but went instead to the other closet, opened it, then turned back 
to her with a startled look "Where are my clothes?" he demanded.

"I didn't put them out today. Find the ones you wore yesterday," Marily 
said, trying not to sound angry.

"I can't stand the same clothes two days in a row. You know that. Why 
are you in bed?" He turned to look at her again. "You wouldn't believe 
it, Fred," Marily said, then turned onto her side, away from him so 
that she would not have to look at him nor he at her.

"Well, if you're ill all you have to do is say so. I mean I come home 
after working all day and find you in bed and what am I supposed to 
think. Then, you haven't done anything, apparently, all day. My clothes 
aren't even ready. Do you plan to make dinner or do you intend to ruin 
our whole daily routine?" He finished with an injured tone to his 
voice.

Marily wanted to hurt him, suddenly, just for the hell of it. She felt 
like crying not from her own debasing experience with their neighbor, 
but for hers and Fred's hopeless situation, which, she had to admit, 
had only become hopeless within the period of the last two hours. She 
turned back over in bed, looking at him and said, "Fred, let's make 
love."

"You must have a fever, Marily. You mean now, this minute, I presume? 
This is only Tuesday. We do that on Thursday night, and not in the 
middle of the afternoon. I would appreciate it very much if you would 
get up, after I have found some clothes for myself, and prepare dinner. 
I don't care to eat after seven o'clock, as you very well know." He was 
indignant. He rummaged around, knocked hangers about the closet, then 
finally pulled on a pair of trousers, doffed a sweater, then carried 
his sneakers out of the room.

Marily sighed, then sat up in bed. She felt dizzy. She stood, after a 
couple of minutes, and the waves of dizziness assaulted her again. The 
coldness of the air, on her nipples, her bare buttocks, jarred her 
somewhat and she laughed. She started, on impulse, to call Fred into 
the bedroom, then changed her mind. He had never, she reflected, seen 
her nude so she might just jolt him into a heart attack. But, she 
reflected, biting her under-lip, she had never seen him totally nude 
either. She went to the bathroom, put a shower cap over her head, 
turned the faucet to hot, then adjusted the cold water until she got 
the mixture she wanted, then stepped into the shower. Hell, she 
thought, once her body was covered with soap and her hands sliding 
comfortingly over its slippery surface, I ought to be thankful for 
being raped, and I ought to have a husband who would be so wounded that 
he would kill the man that did it. But, she almost laughed to herself, 
I'm not and I don't.

She rinsed off the soap, then stepped out of the shower, and dried 
herself vigorously. She felt that she had some of her purity restored, 
just by getting the outside of herself clean. She returned to the 
bedroom and dressed. She was still experiencing a throbbing in her 
vagina, deep down, next to the center of her being.

She passed through the living room with hardly a glance at Fred. He was 
sitting in his chair, reading the newspaper, waiting--she knew--for her 
to prepare his glass of vegetable juice. She did so, then returned to 
him, placed it on the table next to his chair and stood there, looking 
at he top of his head. He nervously rustled the paper.

"What would you like for dinner, Fred?" she asked.

He acted as though he had been slapped. His head flew back, the paper 
was smashed on his lap and he looked at her with a startled expression. 
"Marily, I must say I don't understand you today. This is Tuesday. We 
will have what we have every Tuesday. I see no reason to change our 
menus just because you choose to sleep all day, do you?"

"We can't. I didn't do shopping today." She felt like hitting him. He 
had no idea what had happened to her, didn't even seem to care if 
anything had. She had never realized what a drag their very existence 
had become.

"Didn't go shopping today? Then we have nothing to eat, do we? I mean 
since we only eat fresh vegetables and fresh fruit, we must be out of 
luck." he glared at her.

"You only eat fresh fruits and vegetables. I don't really care that 
much. I'd like to go out to dinner. I'd like to have a large steak and 
drink before dinner, too. Wouldn't you?" She asked, knowing the answer 
before she put the question.

"I would not. I don't care to ruin the organic whole of me even if you 
do seem bent on self-destruction. Not for a minute. But, we could go to 
the living health store and dine since there is nothing here to eat. 
That is, if you wish. Is it too late to go shopping now?" He wanted to 
know.

"Perhaps not. I think the store stays open until nine, but I don't care 
to go to the store. Not today." She sat down in a chair opposite his.

He peered at her, then turned his head away and seemed to look at the 
wall. Then he turned back to her abruptly and in a slightly lower voice 
than shout, "Marily, I demand to know what's troubling you. I am your 
husband, you know, and I want to know. I come home and you're in bed 
and then you asked me if I wanted to make love on a Tuesday afternoon 
and you've done nothing by way of preparing dinner and ... you don't 
look right. Now, what is the trouble?" He sat forward in his chair and 
eyed her suspiciously.

"Fred, are you satisfied with our sex life?" She asked, not realizing 
that she was going to say what she said before it was there between 
them.

Fred jumped from his chair, paced the floor, then with his back to her, 
said: "I am. We are married and we have what some people would call a 
normal sex life, I believe. At the least the normal people would call 
it such. You are not?" He questioned the wall.

"I don't know. I suppose so. I just ... It was a stupid question. 
Forget it." She, too, stood and turned toward the kitchen.

"Marily," he said, softly, still to the wall, "If you'd really like to 
go out to dinner, we can, I suppose. I shouldn't try to stick too close 
to a schedule, I guess. It's easy for me but I know it gets on your 
nerves. Let's. Where would you like to go?"

"For a drink and a steak," she said, still facing away from him. 
"Perhaps to the Red Ox."

"Very well," he agreed, "But the money will have to come out of the 
household budget. I'll just have a salad so that should save some."

Marily turned and went to the bedroom. She dressed hurriedly, feeling 
that she had won a victory over him, wondering why she felt so 
depressed. She shook off the feeling, entered the bathroom, then called 
to him so that he could dress while she was in the bathroom making up 
her face.

Thirty minutes later they left the house and got into the car. Fred was 
permitting the car to warm up, even though he had been driving it only 
an hour or so before, when Peter drove into his own drive way. He 
jumped out of the car, waved a hand gaily in their general direction as 
though nothing at all had happened then entered his house. Marily felt 
her face grow warm, her whole body trembled. Before she could examine 
her feeling, Fred interrupted.

"He's quite a nice looking man, I hear that he is a very good attorney, 
also. I don't know why he would choose someone like her for a wife, she 
can't possibly help him get ahead." Fred mused, steering the car onto 
the street.

His wife didn't bother to answer. She wished that she could sort out 
her own feeling toward her attacker. Her sensation when she saw him was 
not an unpleasant one, but he had, damn him, that very afternoon, 
assaulted and raped her. She should hate him, she told herself, but she 
didn't. Instead she wondered if he would come back as he had promised.

"God, what would she do if he did? Would she fight and scream to 
protect her honor with a greater intensity than she had this afternoon? 
Or would she ... Yes, she mused to herself at the broken thought ... or 
would she? Perhaps, the slight trembling and gnawing sensation she had 
felt in her loins when he had waved at them a moment ago had given her 
the answer. But now ... now wasn't the moment to think about it ... 
that would all come in due time ...



Chapter 2


Marily enjoyed the dinner. She had consumed two drinks, much to Fred's 
consternation, then had eaten a delicious steak, blood rare. She felt 
great. She had admonished herself for looking at the men in the room, 
feeling each time she looked thoroughly at one of them (sitting alone 
at the bar, with other women, with men friends) the sensations that she 
had had earlier in the afternoon. She was just as pleased to leave the 
restaurant as she had been to arrive there.

Once home Marily tried to shake the feeling of need and desire that 
bunched up inside her demanding an outlet. She couldn't. While Fred had 
been showering for bed, she had wandered out to the patio, had looked 
in the direction of Peter's house, had tried to figure which bedroom 
might be his. Then she remembered his wife, she frowned and, in her own 
mind, agreed with her husband: how could he live with such a silly 
woman? She returned to the house, went to the bathroom, stopped in the 
bedroom and stifled a giggle when she realized that Fred was doing his 
deep breathing exercises, as he did every night, before going to sleep. 
She stripped in the bathroom, stood straight and looked at herself in 
the mirror. She liked what she saw. She was tall, five feet eight, she 
had nice large breasts that had not the slightest trace of a sag. She 
ran her hands over her breasts, lifted them so that the nipples, pink 
and soft, pointed straight into the mirror, then let them drop, ran her 
hands from her chest out over her breasts, to the end of the nipple, 
then down, under and across her stomach, marveled at the smoothness of 
it, then along the outside of her thighs. She stopped, shook herself, a 
need that had never been there before today rushing through her, and 
slipped her black nglige over her head. She gave her hair a couple of 
quick strokes, then returned to the bedroom. She stopped just inside 
the door and looked at Fred. She couldn't tell whether or not he was 
asleep because he often, as he explained, went to sleep in stages. She 
walked softly to his bed, circling her own, and lay down alongside him. 
He gave no indication that he was awake, that he knew she was there.

She carefully put her hand under the cover, let it rest gently on his 
stomach. He still made no move to indicate that he was aware of her 
presence. She started to massage his stomach, moving her hand across it 
back and in a circular motion and suddenly he sprang up to a sitting 
position, reached out, turned on the lamp. Marily was startled.

"Marily, what are you doing over here in my bed?" He wanted to know, 
scowling at her.

"I came to ... I want you tonight, Fred." She leveled her large, hungry 
stare at him.

"This is Tuesday night! I just don't understand you, Marily. I broke up 
the entire schedule for the day and now you want to take it into the 
night, ruining our whole weeks' plans. I just don't understand." He was 
perplexed beyond doubt. "Don't try to understand. Let's just make love, 
Fred." She moved to him, put a hand behind his back. Fred sighed, 
turned out the light, then crawled on top of her. He lifted her 
nglige, took his penis out through the opening of his pajamas, then 
eased himself down to her so that his soft, fleshy prick was pressed 
against her warm, open vaginal slit. She moved slightly, put her hand 
on his back. He shook it off. She lay still, fear somehow almost 
paralyzing her that she would go crazy and give all that happened away 
and then he moved against her. She felt him begin to harden, and she 
wanted to kiss him, to be kissed, to have his tongue inside her mouth 
just as Peter's had been, but she dared not. She felt him enter her, 
easily, then push himself all the way in, then move in and out of her. 
She felt a rush of memories from the afternoon and before she realized 
what she was doing her legs went around his back, her arms circled his 
neck. He withdrew immediately. He was shocked, she knew.

"What are you trying to do?" he demanded of her, raised above her on 
his arms. "If you want me to make love to you, then lie still."

Marily did. She lay perfectly still, all desire gone, while he fucked 
in and out of her, not really touching her feelings again. She lay 
under him almost hating him, repulsion for his selfishness angering 
her. She knew that he was about to cum, not because he grabbed her and 
clung to her and pounded into her but simply because his breathing 
increased and his strokes became minutely faster. He withdrew from her 
almost as soon as his semen had flooded into her and got off the bed 
and went directly to the bathroom.

Marily lay as she was, heard the shower running, and laughed bitterly 
to herself. She knew that he was washing her dirt off himself. When she 
heard the shower stop she got up, went to her own bed. She feigned 
sleep when he re-entered the bedroom. She heard the springs give as he 
got into his bed, then the sounds of breathing (deep) that he made, 
then shortly a soft snore. For no reason at all tears sprung to her 
eyes.

She cried silently.

As her tears of frustration trickled slowly down her cheeks she began 
to consciously, for the first time to analyze her life, to look back 
over it, examine it, hoping to find an answer for her immediate 
situation.

Her whole life had been spent in study, one school after the other, 
until graduation from college. She had developed, she thought, as all 
the other girls had and a darned site better than ninety percent of 
them. She was an only child, her parents did not believe in a display 
of affection. She marveled now that she could never remember seeing her 
parents kiss, really kiss, in front of her. Nor, had she ever seen her 
mother cry. Now she found that amazing.

She had grown up with Fred, had attended the same grammar school, the 
same high school, never having taken notice of him, until their third 
year of college. He had asked her out and she had accepted. She hadn't 
cared much for dating and was beginning to wonder about herself. She 
had had a good time with Fred and had ended the summer by announcing 
her engagement to him. She laughed now, bitterly, about their dates. He 
had never taken her out 'petting', had never tried to handle her as 
some of her one shot dates from college had done. She had appreciated 
that at the time, but now that she reflected upon it, she wondered 
about it. Why? Why hadn't he tried to make her, just as all the other 
boys had?

He respected her too much, she decided. That had to be it. After all, 
he had known her all his life, their parents had known each other, so 
it stood to reason that he wasn't going to come howling into his own 
neighborhood and rape his fiance. No, not Fred.

Even her plans for and the wedding itself were without emotion. She had 
felt curious at the time about herself, why she wasn't like the other 
girls squealing and giggling and bragging about their future husband, 
their families, their potential income, and their love life. No, not 
her. She and Fred had planned the first five years of their marriage 
down to the last day months before they were married.

She hadn't felt love for him, not as she supposed that she was meant to 
feel, but she had wanted to be married to him, to share his life. That, 
she told herself, she was doing. What little living he did, that is. So 
she had to admit to herself that she was just as cold and calculating 
as he was or wasn't depending on how one viewed their situation. She 
didn't really suppose that he felt any different about her than she did 
about him.

It seemed ironic to Marily that the first two years of what she had 
come to call their 'five year plan' had come off rather smoothly. They 
had lived in the city in a cramped apartment for the first two years. 
Both of them had worked and saved their money, all of her checks going 
into the bank for a down payment on their home in Suburbia, and, Fred 
had done well with the firm, had entrenched himself, was on the ladder 
up. All just as they had planned. In six months he would plant the seed 
that would bring forth their child nine months after that. They would 
have another, but only one more, during the next five years, depending 
on Fred's advancement in the firm. The very coldness of it made her 
shiver. But, on the other hand, she was somehow upsetting the first 
five year plan. She almost laughed.



Chapter 3


The following morning Marily went into the garden for her first 
cigarette of the day, but she stayed under the eyes of the house. She 
did not venture into the patio, did not inspect the plants, look at the 
rose buds nor notice the snails that crawled about. She found that she 
was extremely nervous, that all her instincts had somehow deserted her. 
She took a deep inhalation of smoke, slowly let it out, then breathed 
deeply. It did not help. She was still jumpy.

She went back to the kitchen, took her place at the table, put the 
toast in the toaster, then poured the coffee. Her husband came through 
the door as she was pouring his coffee. He took his seat across from 
her, then said, "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. I suppose so. Fred ... I," she paused, unable to go on, not 
knowing what she wanted to say, or how she wanted to say it.

"You're still upset this morning. I don't understand it, Marily. What 
is it?" He seemed genuinely concerned.

"I don't know. I ... I don't want to stay home today. I want to go 
somewhere, anywhere," she blurted.

"Marily," he said tiredly, "You're free to go anywhere you like but it 
isn't your day for shopping, not your day for the library, and I don't 
know where else you would want to go. Why don't you get to know your 
neighbors? We've been here for two months now and you still don't know 
anyone to talk to."

She wanted to laugh. She knew one neighbor very, very well, more than 
he would ever be able to believe, but she couldn't tell him that.

"There must be some clubs in the neighborhood for women. Where they sew 
or talk or read or something. Isn't there?" He didn't wait for an 
answer. "Marily, I want to tell you something. I have a surprise. I was 
going to tell you last night but ... I didn't. Old man Callan is 
sending me to Chicago. I leave Friday and I'll be there until Wednesday 
of next week! How about that?" He smiled.

"That's wonderful, Fred. Am I going, also?" she looked across the table 
hopefully at him. Perhaps this would give her a few days away from this 
place and a chance to collect her scattered thoughts.

"No. As a junior executive, Marily, I'm very lucky to be getting the 
chance, the opportunity, to represent the company on such a big deal. I 
couldn't very well ask that they pay your way and your expenses, too." 
He seemed hurt she wasn't ecstatic over his good luck.

"But what will I do here?" she asked bitterly, almost crying. She 
wanted to tell him about Peter, almost started to, but she knew that as 
far as he was concerned the discussion was closed. He wouldn't consider 
her, not with such an unexpected bit of luck presenting itself. He 
didn't answer. She supposed that he already had, in a sense, by 
quizzing her about the clubs in the area. Damn him, if that's all he 
cared about then maybe he deserved having an unfaithful wife. Maybe he 
deserved everything he would get, or she would get, she mused wryly. As 
soon as Fred left for work Marily made a decision. She dressed and went 
to the store. She purchased a bottle of Gin, asked the clerk for a good 
bottle of Vermouth, and a bottle of small olives. Then she went to the 
grocery store, bought enough meat for sandwiches, then went home. She 
was nervous but determined.

At 12:20 she looked at the clock in the kitchen and almost cried. She 
couldn't remember what time he, Peter, had presented himself in the 
garden yesterday, but she felt certain that it had been before 12:20. 
She drank a cup of coffee, walked about the living room, then the 
thought occurred to her that perhaps she should be out in the garden. 
No. She would never permit him to think--to know--that she was waiting 
for him, could not ever let him know that she was looking forward to 
seeing him again. How then, she wondered, was she to explain the 
pitcher of martinis? The prepared sandwiches? She felt as though she 
were losing her mind. She went to the kitchen, poured herself a martini 
and drank it straight down.

At five minutes of one, Marily was drunk. She had consumed three 
martinis and had cried and had washed her face and had applied make-up 
and had settled down with another martini. Then she heard her name 
called, softly, from the door leading to the patio. She sprung up from 
the chair, weaved slightly, then made herself stand still. She would 
not, she insisted, show how eager she was. She walked slowly to the 
door and looked at him, standing there, smiling, waiting for her. That 
was all it took.

Marily hurriedly opened the door and fell into his waiting arms. She 
clung to him, found his mouth with hers, and kissed him long and 
passionately. She felt him lift her off her feet, move back into the 
kitchen with her. His hands familiarly sought the soft mounds of her 
buttocks and pulled her toward him, into him. They kissed for what 
seemed like seconds for Marily but was actually five minutes. She was 
crying with joy when he lifted her away from him.

"Where's my martini?" He wanted to know, smiling his arrogant smile at 
her eagerness. But now, with the weight of the martini's lying heavy in 
her mind and the bitter thought of her husband's maddening disinterest 
in her welfare still ringing in her ears, his arrogance over his 
seduction of her didn't seem to matter quite so much. She was using him 
this time as much as he had used her before and the forbidden thought 
of committing adultery with another man right in her own husband's bed 
strangely frightened and yet excited her at the same time. It was going 
to be a big step in her life to do it voluntarily this way and a 
gnawing sense of hesitation pervaded her alcohol dazed mind. She knew 
once it started, there would be no turning back and she would be 
completely at the mercy of the whims of her body. But ... she also knew 
that even now it was too late. The lewd, but exciting thought of again, 
this time from desire, of opening her legs to her neighbor's husband, 
had driven her beyond the point of any resistance to his advances.

She stifled a sniffle, went to the refrigerator and took the pitcher of 
martinis from it. She poured him one, put an olive in it and watched 
his hands as he took it from her. He sipped, smacked his lips, widened 
his eyes, and said,

"Perfect."

Between kisses and using his hands on her buttocks and breasts, Peter 
consumed that martini and asked for another. He drank that rather 
rapidly in the same manner, then calmly placed the glass on the table 
next to the couch and said, huskily, as though commanding a prostitute:

"Let's go to the bedroom."

"I made some sandwiches," Marily said, softly, hoping that he would 
take time to eat them now and give her a chance to collect her 
thoughts. Perhaps even a chance to back away from this horrible thing 
she was about to do. But, his answer gave her no respite from the 
decision she had made in anger earlier in the day.

"We can eat those after," he said, lifting her off the couch and 
guiding her to the bedroom. "Undress me and kiss me." he told her just 
inside the door, pressing his lips against her nose.

She did as she was told, knowing there was no backing down now. She 
removed his jacket, then mashed herself against him, probing gently 
into his mouth with her tongue. Then she removed his tie, and he 
awarded her with a searing kiss of a longer duration than hers had 
been. She started to unbutton his shirt but he guided her hands to his 
trousers. She was nervous and fumbling, but she managed to unbuckle the 
belt, then the zipper, then she moved his trousers down his leg. She 
blushed when she remembered his shoes and that they would have to come 
off before his trousers. She followed as he dropped back in to a chair 
and dropped to her knees and undid his shoe laces, then removed his 
shoes, receiving a kiss for each one. Then she dragged his trousers off 
his leg, started to fold them, but he motioned for them, took them out 
of her hand and threw them across the stool of her dressing table. He 
stood, kissed her and pressed his hardening penis into her stomach. She 
started to unbutton his shirt, but he pushed her hands down to his jock 
shorts. She blushed again, feeling suddenly more wicked than she ever 
had in her whole life, and put her hands around the waist band of his 
shorts and slipped them over his hips. She had to bend to take them off 
his legs, from under his feet and her eyes locked involuntarily on his 
mammoth cock, hanging as it had yesterday from under his shirt, 
straight down, the head of it purple and huge.

"Kiss it," he told her, putting his hand on top of her head. She did, 
after a slight moment's hesitation. But barely touching it with the 
soft wetness of her lips. He laughed, pulled her up in his arms and 
said, "You're innocent. And very, very nice. Take off my shirt."

She was so nervous that she thought she would never get all the buttons 
undone and the French cuffs gave her a lot of trouble. She made it, 
however, and slipped his shirt off his back. Then she took the bottom 
of his undershirt and raised up over his broad shoulders, then over his 
head, then flung it over her head and fell into him. He took her in his 
arms, moved his hands to her buttocks, massaged and squeezed her soft, 
pliant mounds, and kissed her totally with his lips, his tongue and his 
teeth. She felt faint, her desire for him overpowering her, making her 
legs weak and her stomach tingle.

Then he broke away from her embrace and began to undress her, tossing 
her clothes in a heap, biting her breasts as he permitted one to spring 
free, then the other, then dropping to his knees and gently removing 
her panties, kissing her stomach, her pubic hair and nibbling hungrily 
at her thighs.

Marily was in a quandary. She was trying to examine her own emotions, 
her complete abandon of herself to the pleasure of sex, her lack of 
moral convictions, that she should be thinking about, the building 
fires, pin point sharp, that were bursting within her, driving her 
crazy. She had never wanted anything, anytime, anymore than she wanted 
Peter now. She could hardly breathe.

He gently laid her on the bed then moved her dressing table so that it 
was at the direct foot of the bed, then tilted the mirror so that she 
could see herself, from head to foot, reflecting in the glass. He eased 
himself onto the bed, so that he was laying on her stomach and lowered 
his head to her full ripe breasts. He kissed first one, then the other, 
then licked one from her chest to its very end and sunk his mouth over 
and onto her nipple. Marily involuntarily rose up, pushed her breasts 
up, toward him. He sucked with his strong tongue, then teased her 
nipple with his teeth until it hardened, sprang into life all by 
itself. Then he moved to the other, repeated the same with it.

Marily lay under him, her hands rubbing his back and shoulders and his 
head, her fingers in his hair, pressing his head down into the softness 
of her naked body. She felt that she was alive in every cell of her 
being from the tip of her toes to the very top of her head. She glanced 
into the mirror and saw the two of them reflected there, he feeding on 
her, her moving and groaning under him, feeling as she was certain an 
actress must feel before the cameras of a dirty movie.

He put his mouth over hers, cupped her breasts with his hands and 
massaged and squeezed, and probed her mouth with his tongue, mixing his 
saliva with her, then drawing it out of her, then probing back into her 
throat, in and out like a slippery, wet serpent.

Marily wanted to consume him, all of him, through her mouth. She felt 
her lips burn, her tongue was beginning to get sore and enlarged, and 
she gasped desperately for breaths of air. He stopped kissing her, 
rolled over on his back, and pulled her on top of him, sideways as he 
had been on her. She put her mouth on his, probed his lips with her 
tongue until they parted.

He bit her lips. She drew back, startled, and he raised her by the 
shoulders and moved her so that her breast was over his mouth, then he 
sucked it in, worked over the hardened nipple with his lips and tongue 
and then his teeth until she cried out from pain, then moved her again 
so that the other breast hung over his face. She got the same treatment 
on that one, then he lifted her again so that her mouth was on his.

He moved his hands down the smoothness of her back and rubbed her hips 
where the soft white curves started, then over the roundness of them 
between her legs, then tentatively softly parted the soft, sparse pubic 
hair and worked his finger into her soft-lipped cunt and teased the tip 
of his thumb lightly against the rubbery tissue of her anus.

Marily moaned softly up into his mouth, feeling every movement of his 
hands over her and about her and opened her legs slightly to feel the 
finger moving into her wetness and probing, gently, deeper, the warm, 
moist walls giving to permit the object inside her without pain. She 
was surprised when he slowly wormed his thumb into her anus, felt the 
sharpness of the pain which she found endurable and enjoyable and 
sucked and bit his tongue, worked herself into a frenzy there on him, 
her moving hips doing the love making. Then, with his probing fingers 
in both her openings, she started rotating her hips, grinding down on 
his hands, all her sensations rushing over the sensitive flesh of her 
naked body. She knew that she was going to have an orgasm, a small, 
delicious, tiny one that would lead the way to a greater and more 
cataclysmic one later when he had crawled between her open thighs and 
fucked her the way her husband never could.

He took her hand in his and guided it to his throbbing prick. Marily 
felt the hardness that her hand could never completely encompass, and 
another thrill went through her, surging from her hand to her breasts 
to her contracting vaginal walls, wave after wave of it, rippling 
salaciously against her insides. She tried to move onto him, wanted to 
guide the pulsating hardness into her vagina, but he wouldn't permit 
it.

He moved her head away from his, then toward his chest. She nibbled at 
his nipples, which were so very strange, so different from her own 
prominent ones, so much so that they almost weren't there, then he 
moved her head down his stomach, and taking a handful of hair, lifted 
her head and gently levered her mouth to the head of his prick.

She looked into the mirror and saw the monster of pleasure standing 
tall and excited under her mouth, and she cried out, "No!" before he 
shoved her head down, filling her mouth full with the wonder of his 
hard pulsating flesh. But, it was too new, too fast, and she lifted her 
head, eased the head of his cock from her mouth, and he understood and 
moved her back alongside him. He kissed her mouth, then her breasts, 
then moving down her body, her stomach, and spread her legs, kissed and 
bit her thighs until she thought she would be consumed by the flames of 
her own burning self. He slowly but surely spread her cuntal lips with 
his fingers and probed the soft hair-lined pinkness of her vagina with 
his tongue. He moved the clitoris back, then forward, then shoved his 
tongue into her, causing her to buck upwards, grinding the wetness of 
her naked loins towards his face. He stopped, abruptly, and crawled up 
on top of her.

She was half wild with desire and lust now and clawed into his back, 
bit his lips, sucked his tongue then pleaded, "Please, Peter, Now!"

"Now what?" he asked, breathing hotly into the hollow of her neck.

"Do it to me," she begged, grinding her hips in lewd invitation beneath 
him.

"Do what to you?" he teased, delighting in her agony.

"Take me, Peter, please darling." She implored, clasping his buttocks 
in her hands and trying to pull him into her.

"That's not what you mean, Marily. Say what you mean," he whispered 
moving gently and pressing his hardened penis into her stomach.

"Please! Please, Peter!"

"Say it, baby, just say it and its yours," he repeated, still pressing 
his hardened cock into her stomach, the secreting seminal fluid rubbing 
wetly into her flesh. "Ask me to fuck you."

"Oh, yes, please, Peter. Do it ... please!" she moaned under him, 
moving, wanting him inside her more than she could ever have believed 
that she would want anything.

"Then ask me. Ask me to fuck you," he teased again, bearing down and 
flexing his hardness into her stomach.

"Fuc ... do it ... ah ... fuck ... fuck me, please, darling," she 
moaned rising to meet his every movement.

"Keep saying it, baby," Peter demanded, raising his hips slightly and 
moving down so that he was pressed tight between her open legs.

Marily groaned as she felt the huge head of his prick touch her soft 
eager cunt lips and tried to spread her thighs wider to suck it in to 
her but he cruelly pulled back. "Say it, Marily, beg me, baby."

"Fuck me! Please! Fuck ... ahh ...!" She felt the pulsating head 
sliding wetly into her cunt, barely, and again she tried to move up, to 
swallow it all the way in her but again he drew back, letting her have 
only what he wished her to have. She couldn't stand it. She had to have 
him in her, all the way, all at once!

"FUCK ME!" she screamed, clawing at his back. She was awarded with more 
of him, but not enough. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK ME!" she pleaded until all of 
him was there, wedged into her, all of her filled and the bigness of 
the head of his prick pushed deep up in her burning belly.

She ground against him and came almost immediately, in sudden jolting 
explosions, her orgiastic secretions flowing out against him, bursting 
around the large pistoning head of his prick.

"Oooooh, Mmmmm, Aaaaaaah, darling, I'm ... I'm cumming, God, I'm 
cummmmming," she groaned out her orgasm and then relaxed, exhaustion 
replacing the bursting dam inside her.

Her neighbor stilled his thrust and waited until he could feel the 
contracting walls of her cunt slowly throb to a halt and then began to 
move again, out, then slowly in, the sensations of his hard prick 
against the walls of her vagina slowly exciting her again, until 
suddenly she was responding once more, with him, her fingers dug into 
his buttocks, slamming him into her with all her might and slapping 
into the flesh of his stomach with her own.

She felt a change within him as she labored beneath him, a growing and 
quickened throbbing of his deep implanted prick and then her own 
feeling surged within herself. Peter took her legs in his arms and bent 
her knees back over her shoulders and her attention was arrested by 
their obscene reflection in the mirror.

She gasped at the pink flanges, the hair-lined tightness of the soft 
protective folds of flesh around her cunt, drawing back with each out 
stroke and being pushed in again as Peter thrust forward into her with 
the hammer-like rhythm he had begun.

She moved under him, wanting all of it deep within her, and gasped when 
he shoved further into her; she had thought that there was no greater 
depth of her than he had already reached. She watched his pistoning 
cock, sinking wet and glistening, deep into the tight, clasping lips of 
her pussy as often as she could, and clutched and screamed and cried 
under his power, and felt him impale her solidly, and he raised his 
head slightly and shoved into her and started short quick strokes that 
brought her to another climax along with him and he shrieked and she 
moaned and then he rested on top of her, his cock still imbedded within 
her, hard as ever, filling her, the hot juices spewed from it oozing 
out warmly and thickly against the walls of her vagina, squeezing over 
each ridge of her. She rubbed his back and fingered his hair and 
studied his muscular buttocks with her legs locked around them in the 
mirror. She had never felt so good in her life, she told herself, so 
she closed her eyes and enjoyed to the fullest her every adulterous 
sensation, her belly filled with the warm wet sperm of his 
satisfaction. She opened her eyes again and looked at him as he started 
to withdraw from her. He smiled into her face, then his prick slipped 
moistly out of her cunt with a wet, sucking sound and he raised himself 
slightly and placed it on her stomach and then lay on top of it, on top 
of her, and moved his hands under her head and kissed her gently, 
lazily, and rested his head alongside hers.

"Come to a party this week-end?" He asked quietly into her ear after 
the gasps of his orgasm had subsided.

"Fred will be out of town," she answered, just as contentedly as he had 
asked.

"Good. Then I'll have you all to myself. Just us." He put his hand on 
her breast and took her nipple between his thumb and index finger.

"What about your wife?" She asked hesitantly, her hand stroking his 
neck.

"She'll be there. But, don't worry about her. She's quite popular 
herself. She wanted Fred to be there, too, though."

"What?" Marily demanded, raising her head slightly. "Vivian knows 
Fred?"

"No, I don't think so. She's seen him though and wanted me to invite 
the two of you. She likes him."

"I don't understand," she stammered, "You mean that she ... wants 
Fred?" Marily was confused. She had never thought about another woman 
lusting after Fred. It seemed impossible to her. Considering what a man 
Peter was and the fact that he was Vivian's husband made it absolutely 
ridiculous. She couldn't hold back a slight giggle at the thought.

"What are you laughing about?" Peter asked, studying her closely.

"Why, that's ludicrous. Really. I just can't imagine Fred doing 
anything like this ..."

"Fucking?" Peter supplied the word.

"... Fucking with her. Or anyone, really. It's funny."

"Doesn't he fuck you?" Peter asked bluntly.

"Well ... yes." Marily felt strange talking to him about she and Fred. 
"But not like this. I mean ... well, differently."

"I didn't know there was any other way," Peter laughed and put his hand 
on the side of her soft white breast.

"He does it to me this way ... but, well, not with the same feeling. 
He's very different than you, Peter. Much more conservative, I guess. 
He's quiet." She was unable to describe her husband, did not want to 
put it into words that sounded like betrayal to her, of just how and 
when they had sex relations.

"Do you love him, Marily?" Peter asked.

"Of course I do. Certainly." She answered, as much for her own benefit 
as for his.

"But he doesn't make you happy in bed." He put his hand over her mouth, 
and then continued. "Marily, you've been married two years and you have 
a bedroom with two beds in it. Now. I know that you must use one and he 
the other. Right?"

She moved her head up and down to indicate that he was right. "That 
doesn't take much figuring, Baby. You're turned on to sex so apparently 
he isn't. But, we'll all work together and we'll fix everything up. 
You'll have to join the neighborhood club." He finished speaking, got 
off the bed and began dressing. He left without telling her anymore.

*   *   *


Later, she could have kicked herself for not asking Peter what he had 
meant by the neighborhood club, but she hadn't. She worried about it, 
thought about it, but couldn't think of anyway to contact him to find 
out. He hadn't told her that he would see her the next day or when he 
would tell her more about the party that she had decided to attend. She 
called herself a fool and let other worries take control of her mind.

She managed to find a safe hiding place for the gin and vermouth she 
had purchased for her and Peter before Fred arrived home, on the exact 
minute of the very hour that he had made it the day before and the day 
before that. She had washed the glasses they had used, made the bed, 
put the dressing table back into position, and sprayed all the rooms 
with Lysol spray, taking no chances on Fred smelling the faintest whiff 
of gin or cigarette smoke. She hadn't been able to bring herself to ask 
Peter not to smoke in her house. That would have taken too much 
explanation.

"Hello, Darling," Fred said, walking through the door. He removed his 
hat, then sat his briefcase carefully on the floor. Marily went to him, 
stood on tip-toe and kissed him on the lips, slightly and momentarily. 
Nevertheless, it seemed to shake him up. He looked at her strangely, 
then walked past her to the bedroom. She could hear him making noises 
as he put his clothes away, carefully as always, and heard him grunt 
with pleasure to find his clothes for changing into where he expected 
them to be, but where they had not been yesterday. When he returned to 
the living room and sat in his chair and reached for the paper, Marily 
had his vegetable juice ready and announced proudly that dinner would 
be on time tonight, as usual.

"Good," he sighed, happy that his home had returned to normal. He 
rattled the paper.

Across the table from her, over the bowl of spinach souffl, the boiled 
Swiss chard and the tiny boiled onions, above the stone ground black 
bread and ginger root, Fred pronounced her name. "Marily, I have a 
surprise for you. You may go with me to Chicago if you wish. I think we 
can manage it."

Marily was startled. She wondered immediately it he had suspected 
something, had seen something in the house that she had failed to 
arrange before he got home that told him a man had been there. She 
looked at him, amazed, and couldn't answer what had almost amounted to 
a question on his part.

He didn't wait for her to answer, however, but continued, saying, "We 
could take the money out of the savings and you could get a small job 
that you could do in the house, while I'm away in the daytime, and put 
it back. I really don't want you to stay here alone, anyway. 
Particularly if you don't want to." He smiled at her.

"Oh, Fred, that wasn't me talking this morning, really. I don't mind 
staying here alone. After all, it's your job and I guess I was just a 
little jealous and you'll be working all the time and ... no, no, I'd 
really just prefer to stay here." She knew that her face was red and 
wished to hell that it wasn't, hoped that he would not suspect her of 
anything. Now she wanted to go to the party that Peter had mentioned, 
though none of it would have happened if Fred had offered to take her 
yesterday, she had no intention of anything interfering with that wish.

Fred was easily put off. "I think that is the wisest choice, Marily. I 
mean we agreed never to touch our savings and all, but I worried about 
you all day and thought that I might be being a little selfish." Then I 
had that idea. But, if you think it'll be all right maybe we should 
just leave it as it stands and I'll only be gone four days anyway."

"It's much better that way, Fred. Much. I'll be all right. Really. 
Maybe there'll be a party in the neighborhood or something one night." 
She stopped herself, afraid it might raise his suspicions.

"That would be nice. Darling, did you get my clothes packed today?" He 
asked, peering across the table at her.

"No, Fred, I didn't. You're not leaving until Friday morning and 
they'll be ready. Don't worry about it." She did not speak again during 
the meal, nor did he.



Chapter 4


Marily drove Fred to the office Friday morning. As she was pulling into 
the drive way, having deposited Fred at his office, Peter came out of 
his house and stood and smiled at her. He walked across the lawn, 
jumped over the small hedge, and yanked open the door on the passenger 
side of the car. "Hello beautiful," he said, flashing her a cocky, 
winning smile.

"Not so loud, people will hear you," Marily said, trying not to smile 
back at him, not wanting her desire of him to show through her 
exterior.

"One always always speaks to be heard by somebody. Right? Look, the 
party starts tonight at eight. Why don't you come over to dinner with 
Vivian and me? You don't want to eat alone, do you?"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing at first. Did he really 
expect her to sit at the same table with his wife and eat and be aware 
of her and the food she had cooked and try to carry on a conversation 
after what had happened between her and Peter? She thought that he must 
surely be joking. "You're kidding?"

"Not at all. Vivian will see you today about it. I gotta run. Must be 
in court at ten. Bye Love," he said, slamming her car door and moving 
toward his own garage. She wanted desperately to call him back and talk 
to him, get a couple of answers, but she couldn't. What neighbor might 
be listening, watching her? She drove the car into the garage and got 
out as quickly as possible and went into the safety of her home. She 
poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the breakfast table to 
drink it. The telephone rang. She almost jumped out of her skin, 
spilling the coffee in the process. She picked up the instrument and 
said, dully, "Hello."

The voice on the phone came to her in a rush, seeming to fill her whole 
head with a loud roar. "Hello, Marily--if I may call you that--I'm 
Vivian, Mrs. Aiken from next door. I saw Peter talking to you in the 
drive way and," Marily gasped, an instant vision of her whole world 
falling in on her, clouding her mind, then stammered without making 
sound and then listened as the voice continued, "I'm sure he told you 
about dinner tonight. So, I'll expect you about seven-thirty and we'll 
have an early dinner and the other guests will start arriving about 
nine but that gives us time for a drink and a little talk and I have to 
do a great deal today because I have a meeting with the League of Women 
Voters in half an hour and I must rush now. See you tonight." The voice 
stopped as suddenly as it had started. Marily stood several minutes 
with the instrument still in her hand, then slowly replaced it. She was 
stunned. The woman sounded over the phone just as she did in the yard, 
talking and never stopping and making everything into one sentence. She 
poured herself another cup of coffee and drank it slowly, along with 
smoking a cigarette--she could get the odor out of the house before 
Fred returned--and wondered about the coming party.



Chapter 5


She dressed carefully for the party. She had luxuriated in a bath for 
over an hour, had shaved her legs carefully and under her arms, and had 
creamed her face and made it up very carefully. She decided at the last 
minute not to wear a girdle, giggling to herself as she made the 
decision, even though her black, clinging dress did look better with 
one. She made herself one small martini just to steady her nerves and 
sat, listening to the stereo, and drank it and inhaled deeply of her 
cigarette. She was looking forward eagerly to the party, if not to the 
dinner. She needed courage, she felt, to face her neighbor's wife after 
all that had happened and his candid admission that she knew all about 
it.

At seven thirty-five she presented herself at the door of Peter's 
house. Much to her surprise he answered the door, took her hand and 
tenderly led her inside. "Our guest has arrived, Vivian, and she is the 
picture of loveliness," he called over his shoulder, then bent and 
kissed her hard on the month. Marily drew back as though he had slapped 
her. She saw Vivian standing in the doorway, her arms extended. "You're 
quite right, Peter, she is lovely. Come in, Dear, come in. What have 
you been doing all day besides making yourself lovely for us Peter get 
her a drink quickly and let's go in here I'm taking her away from you 
Peter if you're not going to join us in the kitchen and sit here, 
Marily, you are beautiful." She ran down or stopped of her own accord 
and her eyes took in the whole of Marily, her stately figure, her large 
firm breasts and her flat stomach and her long, slim legs. She shook 
her head and turned and went to the stove.

Peter came through the door, smiling, and winked at her, put a martini 
in her hand, then sat down beside her. He put his arm behind her back 
and then over her arm and pulled her to him. Marily was sure he was 
crazy. He kissed her right there, in front of his wife who had her back 
turned to them but who could and did turn around in time to see him 
kiss her.

"What ... what on earth ...?" she stammered, trying to meet the eyes of 
Vivian. She felt as though she could crawl through a one inch hole in 
the floor if there happened to be one.

"Peter, don't be naughty and embarrass her and muss up her clothes and 
we haven't even had one drink yet to say nothing of dinner don't mind 
him, Marily, he's always the same but you should have worn coveralls if 
you didn't want him pawing at you all evening he's that way you horny 
old man you let's all go into the other room until the dinner is 
ready."

Vivian led the way, taking them through the dining room, where Peter 
grasped Marily's buttock provocatively in his hand, in to the living 
room and they all sat. Peter put on a record and Vivian was still 
completing a sentence that had started fifty thoughts ago when she 
somehow announced dinner. They went into the dining room, Marily almost 
physically ill from the talk and the drink and the tenseness from being 
close to Peter in his own house with his wife there. She asked where 
the daughter was.

"She's at my mother's I had to take her there after school and then 
rush around to the store and buy all the food for dinner frozen though 
it was it wasn't bad and get home and prepare everything for the party 
and now if you'll excuse me I have to go change clothes and Peter be 
nice." Vivian was half-way up the stairs by the time they heard the 
last of her voice, but she started talking again before she disappeared 
through a door at the top of the stairs.

Peter smiled at Marily, made a gesture that indicated how hopeless it 
was to listen to Vivian or to try to answer her. He enveloped Marily in 
his arms, drew her body to his and kissed her tenderly. Marily stood as 
he took her, arms hanging down the side of her body, stiff, her mind in 
circles and images of Vivian catching the two of them, there, in her 
own house with her husband kissing her. She drew away.

"What's the matter, darling?" Peter asked in all innocence.

"Peter, you must be crazy, doing that here with your wife upstairs." 
Marily said nervously. "What if she should see you ... us, like that?" 
She put a cigarette in her mouth and Peter leaned forward to light it 
for her.

"Dear girl, she doesn't care. I thought that I had explained ..." he 
began, but his words were chopped off by the ringing of the door bell. 
He went to the door, Marily straightened her skirt, ran a hand through 
her hair and sat very straight on her chair. Marily looked up as they 
entered and saw one of the most striking couples she had ever in her 
life seen. The woman was tall, almost six feet Marily would have 
guessed, every part of her body was well proportioned, her hair was 
raven black, her eyes green and her complexion as white and unblemished 
as a baby's skin. Her husband was her opposite, blond, taller than his 
wife, blue eyed, broad shouldered and handsome. He spoke not to Marily 
directly, but around her, saying to Peter but looking at her, "What a 
lovely woman, Peter. I know not how you do it." He spoke with an 
accent, not a heavy one, and Marily noticed immediately that he was an 
educated European, of what origin she had no idea.

She turned her attention from him, momentarily, and saw Peter in a 
passionate embrace with the beautiful woman. She gasped, anger rising 
in her. Peter released the woman, removed his hands from her buttocks, 
and introduced them to Marily: "Darling, this is Hans and Anna Shiller. 
And this is our neighbor, Marily." He smiled, looking down at Marily, 
but she couldn't meet his eyes.

Hans dropped into the chair next to her and asked her about herself, 
then wanted to know if her husband were there, or would he be there 
later on. "No," Marily had answered, then had started to explain that 
he was out of town for the week-end and would not return until Tuesday. 
She was interrupted by the arrival of guests, all couples, and the 
introductions that followed. Everyone seemed to know each other, 
intimately. They all kissed, ran their hands over buttocks and pulled 
another person to them, against them, both the men and the women. 
Marily tried to accept their actions in her own mind, tried not to see 
anything wrong with the friendliness they apparently felt for each 
other. She reminded herself that she and Fred had not been hitting the 
social circuit for a long while, since their marriage, and that maybe, 
in the short span of two years, things were changing. Hans interrupted 
her thoughts.

"I am glad to find you the extra women. It is wonderful. You are as 
lovely as Peter said you were." He looked levelly into her eyes, 
sending goose bumps over her bare arms and back. She started to answer 
him, but he continued, "Peter and I, we shall be together tonight. We 
will not permit hurt to you. You shall see." He smiled, then stood and 
walked away from her.

Marily was introduced to one medical doctor and his wife; another 
lawyer and his wife, a couple of business men and their wives, people 
in all walks of life, the professional ones, the smart and well-dressed 
and intelligent and moneyed people. She began to relax, feeling that 
she was getting a firm foot inside the society of her neighborhood, 
that Fred would be proud of her and delighted with the party when she 
told him about it. She had had her glass refilled several times and 
began to feel a little light headed by the time Vivian descended the 
stairs, her voice floating above the crowd in the room, in a steady 
stream, all the way to the bottom of the stairwell. There, she began to 
kiss on the lips, every man and woman in the room. Marily was simply 
shocked. She finished her fifth drink and watched the hostess. It 
suddenly occurring to her that Vivian had a good five years on Peter. 
That thought sent her in search of another drink as through her 
alcoholic haze she could hear the older woman's voice resounding 
monotonously through the room.

"All names are in the hat if everyone is here by now and looking around 
I'm sure they are but we are going to stick to our normal policy and 
the host is Peter and he's to be with the new member and all of you 
know how Hans and Peter are inseparable and," she continued, not 
bothered at all by the jovial laugh and comments from the rest of the 
guests, "So they will see to that end of the affair if the rest of us 
will just draw and the numbers are of course as we discussed last 
meeting so the ten evens will be with the ten odds and the twenty evens 
with the twenty odds and those with the decimal will of course be more 
than two, especially for Ben who insisted on two women ..."

Marily heard only part of what she said, having returned from the 
kitchen with a full glass and she didn't even listen to the part. She 
couldn't believe that a woman or a man for that matter, could ever talk 
as much and say so little as Vivian did. She looked for Peter and saw 
him coming toward her and smiled her bravest smile.

Peter dropped onto the arm of her chair, put his hand over her 
shoulder, then bent and kissed her on the mouth. Marily was shocked, or 
surprised, but the bluntness of her mind snapping was lessened by the 
alcohol. Peter spoke to her, softly, saying "Let's find Hans and go 
over to your house."

"Hans?" She questioned.

"Yes. Come on," he said forcefully as though she had no choice and 
pulled her up from her seat, put his arm around her waist, and they set 
off through the kitchen. There Hans was engaged with a woman not his 
wife, a beautiful blonde, his arm around her, talking in his 
continental way. Peter laughed and said, "Grab a bottle and come 
along." He then guided Marily through the door, across the patio, and 
to her own yard.

"Peter," she pleaded, holding back so that he was almost dragging her, 
"What is this? Why did you ask Hans to come? I don't understand."

"I'll explain it to you, Marily. Don't you trust me? Don't you like 
Hans? He's wild. We work well together, don't we?" He spoke to Hans who 
had joined them and was walking on the opposite side of Marily.

"Well ... I ... I don't know, Peter," she started, but he closed her 
mouth with his own, caught both of her soft breasts of white flesh in 
his hands and pulled her to him. He kissed her long and hard, rubbed 
himself against her, put his tongue in her mouth and bit her lips. He 
released her and they continued on into the house.

She stopped just inside, her mind a turmoil of jumbled thoughts, mixed 
with her own desires that almost were overpowering her, and looked at 
the cupboard where the glasses were kept. Hans followed her gaze with 
his own, said, "Permit me," and opened the cupboard and set three 
glasses on the counter, then filled them to the brim with liquor. He 
raised his glass, after putting one in each of their hands, "To a good 
time by all," he smiled. Marily drank, the fiery liquid burning her 
throat and tried to smile.

When she looked around to smile at Peter he was no longer there. The 
thought occurred to her that he had probably stepped into the bathroom. 
She was surprised to find herself in Hans' arms, his mouth pressed to 
hers. She tried to move away, but he held her firmly, and kissed her 
deliciously, causing her body to tingle and taunt her. She felt his 
hands glide familiarly down her back, so she pushed him angrily away, 
then leaned back against the counter and put her hand to her forehead. 
She couldn't understand what was wrong with her, how she could be 
making love to one man--or at least letting him kiss her--while another 
that she had cheated with, had been unfaithful to her husband with, was 
alone with them in her own house. She shook her head to clear it, felt 
familiar arms encircling her. She lifted her face, tears streaming down 
it, to Peter.

Peter took her gently in his arms, put her head on his shoulder, rubbed 
his hand over her back, and talked to her, "It'll be all right, Marily, 
it will. You'll see. I didn't mean to frighten you, you're beautiful, 
such lovely hair and eyes and figure. "Come," he told her, moving her 
toward the bedroom. Marily realized with a jolt that Peter was nude. He 
hadn't been in the bathroom, then, but in the bedroom undressing! She 
started to resist, to complain, then decided not to, to let herself be 
taken by him, to be loved and wanted. She stopped short just inside the 
bedroom door and her eyes widened in surprise.

The furniture had been arranged as Peter had placed it the last time he 
was there except that Fred's bed had been pulled next to hers. And, the 
shock of shocks, Hans was sitting on the now double bed, naked, 
drinking and smiling at her. She couldn't believe it. Nor could she 
resist looking at him, the hugeness of him, the beauty of his face, his 
slightly crooked smile and his lock of blond hair hanging over his 
forehead.

She felt dizzy, almost faint, from the liquor she had consumed, the 
craziness of the party that had been unlike any party she had even 
attended. The whole thing seemed like a weird but pleasant nightmare to 
her.

Peter took her solidly in his arms again, unzipped her dress down the 
back, put his hand inside the dress and over her softness, then down to 
her soft white buttocks, and pulled her to him and kissed her long and 
hard. She couldn't resist. Her body slumped against his; she felt the 
fullness of his sex against her. She moaned softly when he squeezed her 
buttocks. Peter slipped her dress off her shoulders, his mouth on hers 
all the time, his tongue probing deep within her. He moved her arms 
from around his neck and moved her slip straps over her shoulders, 
letting that slide to the floor on top of her dress. Then he unsnapped 
her bra, then kissed her breasts as he slowly removed it.

Marily had forgotten about Hans. She glanced at the bed, saw him 
sitting there as she had first seen him. She gave a start and tried to 
cover her breasts with her arm. Peter would have none of that. He took 
her arm and gently moved it from her breasts, then said with a 
triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Look at this, Hans. Beautiful, aren't 
they?"

Hans ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes sparkled and he replied, 
"They are that, Marily", giving a musical tone to her name. She noticed 
his rampant hardness being stroked lovingly between his own fingers and 
suddenly felt like a helpless maiden being offered up for sacrifice to 
these two virile naked men. And then, before she could react, before 
any thought could be formed in her mind, Peter had rid her of her 
panties and her shoes. She stood stark naked before the two nude men. 
Peter gently laid her on the bed, between himself and Hans, and turned 
sideways and put his mouth over hers.

Marily couldn't believe that such a thing was happening to her. She 
tried to be rational, tried to get her thoughts sorted out to figure 
out just what kind of compromise she had let herself in for. It was 
impossible. She felt hopelessly entrapped by her feelings for Peter, 
and he was there and he was kissing her and she was enjoying it. She 
didn't think at all about Hans, had forgotten that he was there, in bed 
with her and Peter, until she suddenly felt a strange set of lips on 
her breasts. She jumped, and Hans withdrew his mouth from her, then she 
was encouraged by Peter, murmuring into her ear, "Marily, trust me. 
Please," then moving his mouth back to hers. Again she felt the warm 
wetness of Hans' mouth on her breasts, the heat and strength of Peter's 
tongue in her own mouth, and groaned out her helplessness to resist 
their magic torment, or tried to. She put one hand on Peter's head, on 
the back of it, and rubbed. She could feel her breasts responding to 
the expert kissing by Hans. Feeling rushed there, she could tell that 
her nipples were beginning to harden, and her other hand went to the 
back of his head. Fire suddenly shot through her, from her mouth to her 
breasts to her loins and she pressed her thighs tightly together to try 
and quench the rising feeling of desire there between her legs.

Hans began to kiss her stomach, then above her soft pubic hair and 
strange hands were opening her legs, gently but firmly. She felt as 
though she were going to burn up, that from the inside the fires of her 
could consume the totality of her. She groaned when Peter squeezed her 
breasts, then withdrew his mouth from hers and kissed them, those two 
surging, perfectly shaped, pink topped breasts.

Hans spread her legs, gently, kissing her body softly and using his 
tongue and teeth to excite the deeper nerves, and then moved his mouth 
to the slight hair-lined lips of her vagina, felt with his tongue the 
soft flanges of her vagina. She groaned lasciviously under him, 
wriggled her hips slightly. He took his thumbs and pressed her vagina 
apart so the secret cavern opened and the soft inner flesh came into 
view. It was pink and soft and secreted moisture, glistening and wet, 
appeared on the soft inner flesh of her thighs. He breathed into her 
and she groaned again, twisting her head from side to side on the 
softness of her husband's pillow.

He moved his mouth forward, his tongue feeling a passage for the rest 
of him, around her cuntal lips, into her softness, then pushed his face 
against the wetness of her vaginal slit. He felt her move to him, 
toward his face, and his tongue pushed into her open, waiting cunt. He 
felt weak from the pleasure her surrender gave him; the freshness of 
her, the pleasing female odor of her cunt. He breathed her up into his 
nostrils, plunging his tongue deep into her and she moaned and moved 
her naked loins more forcefully toward him. He moved his tongue within 
her, nipping at the tender flanges of flesh with his teeth between the 
thrusting in and out of his tongue, and soon he heard a soft moan 
building within her, then she violently flung herself upward, and 
screamed, "Ooooh, Ooooh," and ground her buttocks into the mattress and 
he probed deeper and deeper into her.

He stopped his probing, withdrew his lashing tongue and found the 
throbbing, hard clitoris and licked. Marily was going wild with 
pleasure under him, moving her hips in ever more violent motions, 
pushing her tongue into Peter's mouth and her breasts upwards to his 
face when he was alternately kissing and squeezing her there. She could 
never stop or turn aside the passion in her body at that moment. She 
squirmed and twisted and turned and threw herself at their hot, hungry 
searching mouths and tongues. She felt the dam within her building for 
the break that was certain to come, and quickly. She wanted it to, 
tried to help it by her movements. She was thwarted, however. Peter and 
Hans changed places, slipping and sliding along her body, one on each 
side, and the newness of Han's lips on her was the next sensation she 
had, then the hands of Peter on her vagina, a gentle probing with his 
fingers, then his teeth along her inner thigh, and she quivered with 
pleasure and gratitude and anticipation.

She liked Hans, liked the feel of his tongue in her mouth, the soft 
caressing of her breasts from his hands. She ran her own hands over the 
hard, taut muscles of his back, then to the back of his head and pulled 
him into her, took his tongue fully into her mouth, and sucked it, 
slowly, then more violently. She could feel her body lathering with 
sweat, straining as it was to answer the urgent needs of the two mean 
laboring over her naked body.

Peter moved her unresisting legs apart and placed himself between them. 
He ran his hand over the full length of his prick, hardened like steel 
now, and rubbed the head of it with his thumb. It secreted a small 
amount of sticky seminal fluid showing the depth of his own lust and 
desire. Then, he took his hands away and it stood straight out from his 
body, rigid, throbbing so hard that he thought he could see the rate of 
his own heart beat by looking at it. He put his hands under Marily, 
taking into them the soft whiteness of her desire-quivering buttocks 
and pulled her loins apart, slightly, then moved forward so that he was 
ready to enter her. He dipped his body at the hips and placed the head 
of his pulsating cock on the lips of the wet, pink, vaginal opening. He 
pressed the soft, resilient crevice of her buttocks further apart with 
his hand and worked his finger into her anus, the soft spongy and 
rubbery tissue there opening slowly to his tender probing.

He lifted the whole of her hips toward him, then eased his cock into 
the warm pink flesh of her vagina, then rested, feeling her move 
against him slightly, then back off. He squeezed and massaged her wide-
spread thighs and moved gently into her, the walls of her cunt sucking 
him on and on deeper and deeper into her. He gradually moved his body 
forward so that he was penetrating her almost completely, almost all 
the way, and the clasping, wet warmth there drove him almost crazy, 
cozily wrapped around his hard pulsating cock. He did not push the head 
all the way in, all the way to its deeply hidden nest, but stopped 
short of that and rested, then again massaged the writhing woman's 
thighs.

Marily, her mouth open wide in passion, felt every one of Peter's 
manipulations. His nibbling at her thighs had sent cold shivers of 
pleasure up her body, only to be replaced by hot desire. She grasped to 
her what she could of Hans, kept his tongue in her mouth and worked it, 
sucking and biting and kissing, and moved her breasts, which seemed to 
her to be seeking a solace all by themselves, toward him until he 
increased his massaging and squeezing of them. Her hands tore at his 
back, at the muscles and the hollows of it, as far down as she could 
reach.

She felt every nerve twitching, springing to life, all of them building 
a fire within her that she was sure could never be extinguished, no 
matter what was used to suffocate it. Then she felt the cheeks of her 
buttocks again being gently pulled apart by the strong hands of Peter 
and she wanted to push onto him, have him spear her without thought of 
pain to her, to fill her hungry, throbbing pussy with the total 
strength of him. She didn't however; he had done alright by her in her 
two previous experiences with him and she didn't want to spoil anything 
by her own inexperienced greed. She felt the rubbery head of his prick 
in her soft, yielding cunt and moaned, trying desperately to hold 
herself back and not to raise herself and take all of him into her, but 
to let him lead the way.

When she felt his large shaft wedging her apart, sliding into her 
fully, she could have died from the pleasure it gave her. She could not 
help herself, she moved up on him, drawing him into herself, she was 
angry that he did not grind into her, but had stopped and stayed an 
infinitesimal distance away from filling her completely. Then she felt 
his practiced hands on her, rubbing and squeezing and massaging and 
then again on the cheeks of her buttocks, pulling them apart and the 
finger that cautiously probed her anus and then entered, sending 
welcome pain to her. She bit Hans' lips, pushed her tongue into his 
mouth, then accepted his into her throat and hung on for dear life as 
she suddenly trembled from head to foot.

Peter knew that she was ready, that she wanted the whole of his lust-
hardened cock in her, deep and that she wanted him to grind away, 
pounding into her, rocking her with his sexual power. But, he 
deliberately took it easy, even though it hurt him to do so, and moved 
in and out of her, never hitting all the way to the top of her cervix 
until she started responding to him, slithering her cunt up over his 
prick, trying with the walls and muscles of her vagina to swallow the 
whole of it, to take it deep within her churning belly. He was on his 
knees, cupping her rounded buttocks in his hands, pulling her to him 
and away from him as he wished. And suddenly he could no longer take it 
and with a deep throated grunt, rammed into her all the way, until his 
balls smacked tight down against her exposed anus. He held for a 
moment, hearing her groan helplessly up into Hans' mouth.

Hans took his mouth from Marily's, moved his body on the bed so that he 
was straddling her chest, sitting atop her firm, heaving breasts. He 
could feel through her body the entrance of Peter, feel her heave when 
Peter plunged his big cock all the way into her. He put his hand behind 
her head and lifted it slightly, took his own long rigid cock in his 
other hand and guided it so that the head of it pressed against her 
lipstick covered lips. In spite of lust ridden desire, Marily tried to 
turn her head away, but he would have none of that. He opened her lips 
with his finger, and slowly guided the pulsating head of his prick 
toward her now open mouth.

Marily couldn't believe that Hans, a perfect stranger, would want her 
to do a thing like that and she tried to escape the mammoth hardness 
that he wanted her to suck. But, she couldn't. Then she remembered the 
warm, forbidden pleasure Peter's had given her and she relented, felt 
him open her lips with his finger, then the spongy head of his cock 
slipped into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth, rubbing with a slight 
stickiness on top of her tongue. She moved forward slightly when Peter 
rammed hard into her and then without warning her mouth was filled 
almost to the bursting point with Hans' hard rod of pulsating flesh. 
She closed her eyes and sucked, and tried not to gag, moving with 
abandoned desperation her hips against the wonderful fiery hardness 
within her and enjoyed the swiftly cruising pleasure that it gave her.

Peter began to fuck faster and faster in and out of her cunt, grinding 
at the top of her with every inward thrust. He could feel the warmness 
of her clutching at his hardened prick, sucking it into her, filling 
her whole slit. He buffeted in and out and ground and dug his hands 
into her, pulling her toward him, then away from him. He watched the 
hard, round tube of solid flesh coming out of her cunt, then sliding 
back in, glistening and wet and throbbing.

Hans pressed his cock further and further into her mouth, enjoying the 
pleasure it gave him to know that it was almost too much for her, the 
added pleasure he felt in his balls, the tingling there that demanded 
that he thrust into her mouth, deeper and deeper, until he was in up to 
the very root of his prick and he did so, slowly, feeling her buffeted 
upwards by Peter's hungry thrusts into her cunt. He leaned over and 
watched the hardness of him slipping into her red mouth, saw her 
lipstick covered lips creeping over the flesh of his hard cock, and 
gradually leaned and pushed all the way into her. She tried to move her 
head so that he would have to withdraw it, but he was too fast for her. 
He held onto her head firmly and pushed down until he felt his balls on 
her chin; he looked and was amazed at the smoothness of her complexion 
compared with the wrinkled skin of his sack. Then he began to plunge in 
and out of her, matching the rhythm that Peter had established plunging 
into her cunt. He was overjoyed when he felt her hands grab his waist 
and pull him into her. This, he knew, was the ultimate surrender and 
there was no turning back for the distraught housewife now.

Marily knew that she was going to cum. The two of them together using 
her body like a whore were just more than she could stand. She had not 
liked the huge prick of Hans in her mouth at first because it made it 
difficult for her to breathe; then that had changed, her excitement 
growing and getting away from her with every delicious thrust into her 
cunt from Peter down between wide-flung thighs. She had accepted the 
whole of Hans' prick, deep within her mouth, down her throat and was 
near to panic when he would not let her escape it. Then, without 
warning, she began to enjoy that as much as she did the feeling of 
Peter inside her. She felt the thrusting into her cunt and into her 
mouth and wondered dazedly if she were being torn apart by the two of 
them. Then the ecstasy of it all, the mounting sensations deep within 
her, began to explode and she sucked hungrily at Hans' hardened cock 
and clutched with the walls of her cunt at Peter.

She knew that Peter was getting ready to explode, that she was, but she 
had never expected Hans to erupt with his hot, burning semen into her 
throat, but he did. She felt her inner dam breaking and moved against 
Peter with a force that he was helpless to control, bothered as he was 
by his own mounting need to come, and then she was suddenly aware of an 
increased growing and throbbing of Hans' brick-hard prick in her mouth. 
She clutched and clawed and would have screamed out with pleasure if 
she could have when she felt herself going, losing control, her 
sensations suddenly bunching themselves deep in her womb and gathering 
to split apart. Peter plunged into her faster and faster and Hans tore 
at her throat and suddenly it was there. Her legs flailed out in the 
air, her nails bit into Hans' hips and she came, she broke, the whole 
of her orgasm flowing out with wild, abandoned force against Peter, who 
was hard inside her. He pushed into her forcefully and came, spewing 
his hot wetness over hers, filling her womb with thick, milk-white 
fluid, then Hans burst in her mouth, scalding her throat with his hot, 
pungent semen, then pushed on into her and ground down hard against her 
lips, hurting them, because in his passion and force of orgasm they 
were pressed back against her nibbling teeth.

The three of them came together, the men greedily clutched at her, 
roughly grabbed her to them with their hands and bore into her, then 
slowly released her and all of them parted at the same time, Hans 
falling to one side of her, Peter leaning backwards and his deflated 
cock popping wetly out of her, then moving his body alongside hers. She 
felt like a queen, the two most handsome men she had even known resting 
with her, having exhausted themselves and her with lovemaking. She 
stroked their heads softly with her hands.

"You are a most wonderful woman, Marily," Hans said, his hand flat on 
her still heaving stomach. "Truly you are."

"The most wonderful," Peter said, raising up and kissing her mouth. "We 
love you, beautiful." He went back to his former position and moved his 
hand appreciatively over the whole length of her smooth, soft body.

Marily could say nothing. She felt like crying with happiness. She 
didn't know how she had lived so long (only twenty-four years) without 
knowing what the real unrestricted joys of sex could be. She felt so 
lucky to be there, to have them, both of them, that she wanted to cry.

Hans disturbed her mood. He excused himself, got off the bed and left 
the room. She smiled at the leanness of his buttocks as he disappeared 
through the door. Then he returned a moment later, his sex swinging in 
front of him, with three glasses of drinks. He put them on the bedside 
table, then moved his arm under her head and lifted it slightly, then 
helped her drink from one of the glasses. She smiled her thanks to him. 
He put the glass in her hand, then handed Peter one and took one for 
himself. Then he toasted her, each part of her, then they all drank to 
everything each of them had experienced in the few short minutes of 
their orgiastic three-way coupling.

The three of them lay, satiated, drinking the burning liquor, enjoying 
the nearness of each other, the fulfillment that each of them felt. 
Marily finished her drink, then her hand gripped the glass. She had not 
thought about Fred all evening and now he suddenly crowded in on her 
thoughts, filling her with shame.

"Oh, God," she cried, "What have I done?" Both of the men immediately 
began to soothe her, to try and give her comfort. "Don't worry about 
Fred, Marily, he's in Chicago. He won't be back until Tuesday. You know 
that."

"It isn't a matter of when he'll be back," she sobbed, "I'll never be 
able to face him no matter when he comes back."

"Marily," Hans spoke, giving that strange musical sound to her name, 
"We will all help Fred adjust. You shall see. My wife is now with 
someone else. Of that I am sure. I do not mind. Your Fred will not mind 
once he is included. You will see."

"You don't know my Fred, Hans. He will mind. He ... he doesn't like sex 
like you ... we do. He would never let himself be included." She was 
crying again just thinking about Fred's strict moral code and what he 
would think of her if he saw her now, laying in bed naked with a nude 
man on each side of her, drinking liquor. She shuddered.

"Marily, please," Peter said, kissing her on the mouth through her 
tears, "Trust me. I told you that we will see that Fred comes to 
appreciate you and all of us. You'll see. We'll manage it. Just trust 
me." He pulled her to him, his arms wrapped around her and loved her 
tenderly, kissing away the salty tears. "We've already got a plan 
worked out for Fred. He'll be a changed man by next weekend at Hans' 
house. That's where we're having the next party."

Marily couldn't believe--even though she wanted to trust Peter--that 
Fred would ever go to a sex party, would ever join the neighborhood 
club as apparently she had done. She was wondering what the plan might 
be to entrap him, when Peter kissed her hungrily, probing his tongue 
deep into her, searching her mouth for excitement. She forgot about 
Fred and responded, surprised that the fires were already, so soon, 
building within her again.

Peter kissed her long and hotly, then guided her hand down to his soft, 
deflated penis. Even resting, soft, it seemed to her bigger than 
Fred's. But, she had never put her hand on his sex, he never having 
invited her to. She rolled it about her closed hand, pressing into the 
side of it with her fingers, then moved her hand to his testicles. She 
was surprised at the feel of the soft sac of flesh. She had never 
before felt so free to know a man, to run her hand over him, to find 
out for herself what he was made of. Just the idea that she was doing 
that made her want to cry out for joy. She felt Hans adjusting himself 
between her legs. He lowered himself on top of her, the full length of 
his body, and kissed her breasts. He moved her legs together so that 
his prick lay on top of them softly and stroked her thighs with his 
hands.

Marily felt wonderful. She kissed and sucked at Peter's lips and tongue 
and moved her legs so that she could feel Hans' prick against each leg. 
She continued to massage and handle Peter's cock, which was fast 
beginning to lengthen and harden. And, she loved the feel of Hans' 
mouth on her breasts. She massaged the back of his neck, his head, and 
moved her hand over his blond, silken hair.

She enjoyed the slow and kind nature of their manipulations until both 
of them were rock hard again. Peter was kissing her more violently and 
Hans was biting and squeezing her soft white breasts. As if by signal 
both of them stopped, Hans moved her legs and placed himself between 
them, moved them further apart and placed his hands on the inside of 
her thighs and used his finger to slowly spread the lips of her cunt 
apart.

He took one hand and put it on his extremely long, white rod of flesh 
and ran his thumb over the head of it. Marily couldn't believe that he 
was so big, that she could be expected to take all of that huge tool 
inside her little soft pussy, but a part of her mind told her that she 
could, that he wasn't any larger there than Peter was, that she wanted 
him to, to ram into her wih all his might and push it all the way up 
inside her. She moaned in an almost tortured anticipation.

Hans lifted her legs, put the head of his hard prick to the lips of her 
vagina and eased himself in, the passage warm and soft and wet. Marily 
groaned and took all of him into, seemingly, the very depths of her 
being, and enjoyed the feel of him there. He stayed inside her, not 
moving, not plunging in and out, and kissed her breasts. Then he took 
her in his arms and rolled over, bringing her on top of him as he did 
so.

Suddenly Peter was behind her, kissing her back, massaging the curved 
mounds of her soft, resilient buttocks and pushing her up and down onto 
Hans. Then, spreading the smooth white mounds he used his finger to 
tease and then enter her anus. She gasped with pain when his finger 
slipped inside her, then moved back onto it, enjoying the strange, 
forbidden thrill that it gave her.

She could feel the head of his cock probing the soft, rubbery tissue of 
the tight resisting hole, but she had no idea whether or not he wanted 
to or would be able to enter her there. Then, he did, gradually, 
causing her pain that she had never felt the equal of, just the head of 
his prick, then he reached around her and took her breasts in his hands 
and squeezed and rubbed her nipples between his fingers. She began to 
relax, somewhat, the feeling of Hans inside her, her lips bent to his, 
her tongue in his mouth, getting massaged and sucked by him. She could 
feel herself coming ablaze deep inside and started her motions up and 
down on Hans' large impaling prick faster and faster.

Suddenly, Peter grunted behind her and thrust his hard cock all the way 
into the soft rubbery walls of her rectum, pulling savagely on her tits 
to prevent her from moving away from him. She felt indescribable pain. 
It rocked her from her middle to her head and down her legs into her 
toes. All movement stopped. She sat still, getting used to the pain of 
the two of them, then Peter leaned his stomach against her back, kissed 
her neck and said, "You'll like this after a while. I'm going to move 
in and out a bit and you tell me if it hurts too much." He moved a bit 
more into her, then slowly pulled out, then pushed his prick back into 
her rectum, then repeated the same thing again, kissing and nibbling at 
her neck at the same time. And suddenly, for some indescribable reason, 
it felt right to her, moving it at the same time into her soft slit, 
then Peter behind her moving in perfect harmony with Hans, so that the 
heads of their cocks seem to meet and press together with only a thin 
tissue of her soft, pink flesh separating the two of them. She rocked 
up and down and was pulled up and down by both Peter and Hans. She 
could feel the hardness sluice into her stomach from behind and the 
hardness glide through the softness of her cunt and her joy was 
fantastic and beyond all imagination.

She thought she could sense the swelling of both their hardnesses, the 
large heads of their cocks seeming to expand inside her and she felt 
her own need burning again, deep within her and she speared herself 
onto Hans, and at the same time onto Peter and ground the two of them 
deep within her. She glued her mouth to Hans' mouth, his tongue filled 
hers, and Peter tightened his grip on her soft breasts.

She rose up and down and was pulled up and down until she felt her 
insides exploding, the hotness spreading over the head of Hans' still 
plunging cock, and she worked harder, emitting a moan that propelled 
both of them into greater bucking and plunging into her and suddenly it 
was there, all of it emptied once again from within her, causing an 
animal cry to escape her lust-tortured throat. She went limp between 
them, and seconds later they both spewed into her, Hans' hot sperm 
filling the upmost cavern of her throbbing vagina and Peter shooting 
into her bowels, hotly, then clawing at her and grinding and pushing 
and plowing and then falling weakly against her, emitting a small, 
helpless, deep-throated groan.

They rested, Hans under her and Peter still lodged deep in her sperm-
filled rectum, then she felt the softening of them, then the slow 
withdrawal of Peter, then she moved slowly off Hans and felt him slip 
wetly out of her. She moved off him, lay alongside him on the bed, her 
breathing deep and calm. She couldn't remember when she had felt so 
satisfied, so spent.

The three of them lay quietly for what seemed like a long time, then 
Peter announced that he would get drinks. He hopped off the bed, went 
through the door, and disappeared. Marily turned her head, looked at 
Hans and said, "Are you sure your wife doesn't mind that you are here? 
I think that if I were your wife, I would mind. I really do."

Hans smiled, then turned sideways and put his arm across her. "You will 
not mind when your husband is with another woman. You will see. We will 
use my beautiful wife to seduce your husband into pleasure. I do not 
mind that. No." He kissed her gently on the mouth.

It was too much for Marily to fathom. She could visualize Fred's 
reaction if he should discover her there, with Peter and Hans. He'd 
never recover from the shock. Nor, she told herself, would she. She 
gently moved Hans' arm and got off the bed and went into the bathroom. 
Suddenly she felt like a shower, wanted and needed one. She 
automatically started to undress, then giggled remembering that she was 
nude and had been for sometime, then stepped into the shower. She 
lathered her whole body, touched her breasts gingerly, smoothed her 
hands over them, then rinsed off the soap and stepped out from under 
the steaming water. Marily dried herself carefully, powdered her body 
and used some risqu perfume that she had not dared to use before, then 
draped a towel around her, over her breasts and around her curvaceous 
buttocks, then re-entered the bedroom. Hans and Peter sat on the bed, 
sipping their drinks. They both looked up, whistled, and patted the bed 
for her to sit down. She walked toward them, then stopped just at the 
edge of the bed. Peter reached out, yanked the towel with his hand, and 
laughingly tossed it to Hans.

Hans took the towel, said, standing and bowing, "If I may be 
permitted?"

Marily nodded her approval and Hans slipped into the bathroom. She 
laughed and Peter grabbed her and pulled her to him on the bed, propped 
her against him, and put a glass in her hand.

"We'll go back over to the house very soon. I might like to freshen up 
a little if Hans doesn't drown himself in there." He kissed her. "My 
but you are clean and fresh," He said, biting into her soft flesh.

"And you're vulgar and dirty," she laughed, kissing his mouth.

"Peter," she asked seriously, "How can I face Vivian again? I would 
hate any woman who came into my house and took my husband away, 
especially if he were you. And don't laugh at me, please. I'm serious. 
I just don't think that I can face her."

"You innocent lamb," Peter said, moving his hand up and down her arm. 
"Vivian started this 'neighborhood club' herself. Don't worry about 
her. She likes you. She really does. And, she likes Fred, too. Just 
don't worry about it."

"May I ask you something, Peter?" Marily inquired, hesitantly.

"Shoot," he told her.

"Well ... is Vivian older than you? I know that's a kind of bitchy 
question, but I'm serious."

"Yes, she is. Seven years older. Why?" He seemed puzzled.

"No reason. I thought so tonight, seeing the two of you together for 
the first time and I thought that it just might be the witch in me 
thinking such things about her just because she's your wife and I was 
afraid to ask you but ..." Marily hurried on, fearing that she was 
hurting his feelings.

Peter stopped her with a kiss. "I love her, Marily. Very much. She 
worked hard and put me through law school and she is a perfect wife. 
Sure, she talks all the time and I don't know half the time what's she 
said or even what's she saying, but that doesn't bother me. She's very 
tolerant and she returns my love and she respects me. So." He pushed 
himself up and indicated that he was going into the bathroom.

Hans pushed through the door, no towel wrapped around him, and tossed 
the towel to Peter. "Get Marily a drink, you German bum," Peter joked, 
then closed the door to the bathroom quickly. Hans shrugged his 
shoulders, then went to the kitchen for drinks. He returned shortly and 
handed a full glass to Marily. They sat, quietly, looking into the 
mirror at the foot of the bed, and drank.

Peter bounded through the door of the bathroom, shiningly clean, 
yelled, "Up! Up! Dress! Dress! We have to go back to my house and get 
in on the drawing. Quick!" he ordered, popping the towel at them.



Chapter 6


Marily marveled at her unconcern in dressing before the two men, each 
of them watching her, Peter taking her brassiere and panties and 
smiling and tossing them aside and telling her that she didn't need 
them, wouldn't need them the rest of the week-end. She felt strangely 
satisfied, somehow calm and peaceful. She wanted to draw the whole 
world to herself and embrace it, hold it in her arms and stand and 
caress it.

She meekly let herself be led out of her own home by Peter and Hans and 
across the patio to the next patio and into his house. She thought at 
first that the party had somehow broken up, that most of the people had 
gone home. There were only four people in the living room, each of 
which Peter and Hans greeted profusely and spoke in front of her of her 
accomplishments and beautiful body. She blushed deeply.

Roy, a middle-aged but still handsome man said, "Peter, fix the drawing 
so that I can be with Marily." He laughed, slapping Peter on the back. 
Marily was horrified. The idea of a drawing in which she was the prize 
did not set well with her. She turned her back on them and started for 
the kitchen. Peter was just behind, took her in his arms and apologized 
for Roy's 'crudeness.' "He must have forgotten that you are here for 
the first time, Marily. I'm sorry." He held her in his arms and kissed 
her lightly, then, "Come on, let's make drinks for everyone. We'll have 
everyone in the living room in ..." he looked at his watch, "exactly 
seven minutes."

It took just about seven minutes to make the drinks. Marily was aware 
of the increased noise and conversation in the other room, the one she 
had left shortly before. She hoped that she wouldn't be timid about 
facing them, prayed that what Peter had told her about Vivian not 
minding would be true. She knew that that would be her who was married 
to Peter.

Peter kissed her on the nose, then put a tray of drinks in her hands, 
said, "O.K.?" and then they went back to the living room. Marily heard 
Vivian's voice above everyone's and hesitated, then took a deep breath 
and walked into their midsts.

"Oh, what a lovely creature and all the time for nearly two months 
living and being next door and all kinds of doubts assailed me about 
asking her over and Peter, you sly dog you, and we're all ready and the 
second and last evens are made up and we'll all drink and then we'll 
draw and it is a good idea which is Peter's that we re-assemble and 
hope and speculate before the next one so here's to all and one."

Vivian stopped talking long enough to swallow a small amount from the 
glass that Marily had served her. Everyone joined in the toast, all of 
them drank deeply.

The concoction was delicious, Marily decided, drinking hers hesitantly 
at first, then taking more each time, enjoying the faint burning and 
soothing sensation that it gave her. She wondered what was in the drink 
that she had never tasted before, but then she decided that she didn't 
care. She held out her glass for a re-fill when Hans passed among the 
guests and replenished their glasses. She smiled warmly and secretly to 
Anna. It made her feel good.

Suddenly Anna, Han's wife, started toward her. Marily had almost 
forgotten about her. She had the impulse to turn and flee, but she 
couldn't. She stood still and the nerves that controlled her to move 
suddenly froze. She tried to return the smile that Anna gave her, but 
it was impossible.

"Well, Marily, welcome to the club. Was Hans a devil with you?" Her 
green eyes were fastened on Marily; her smile was genuine and sincere.

"I ... no ... I don't ..." Marily stuttered, suddenly angry with 
herself for her own stupidity. She had never been so embarrassed in her 
life.

"I understand, Marily. There is a first time for everything. I'm sorry. 
I didn't mean to be so blunt. Let's sit down." She took Marily's arm 
and guided her to a chair in the dining room. "Look," she said, sitting 
her beautiful self onto a straight-backed chair, "I understand that I'm 
to be instrumental in helping your husband to join. Tell me what he's 
like."

Marily's thoughts, suddenly directed to Fred, caused her to laugh, and 
relax. "I don't know what to say, really, Anna. We've been married two 
years and ..." she hesitated, then continued, feeling the sincerity of 
the woman sitting there as though it were a physical presence. "He's 
very conservative. And he's not ... well he really doesn't seem to 
enjoy sex. Not like Peter and ... your husband." She blushed deeply, 
her face suddenly burning like fire.

Anna laughed softly, patted Marily's arm. "I know what you mean. Hans 
was the same way. I don't suppose either of them bothered to tell you, 
but I joined the club before Hans did. Our marriage was on the point of 
breaking up, Marily, and then we found this. I used to be a legal 
secretary in the same building with Peter. He introduced me to the 
club, then arranged for Hans to come in. They have become very good 
friends, as you can see." She smiled and tilted her beautiful head and 
looked at the two men, standing tall above everyone in the room, 
laughing and joking with each other.

Marily couldn't find words to express her gratitude to the lovely Anna. 
She couldn't believe that she could ever come to be as self-assured, as 
self-contained as Anna was. She could find nothing to say to her; she 
felt that anything she might try would sound stupid and awkward. She 
remained silent and listened to Vivian.

"Marily, Marily where are you you lovely creature come and you are 
first no matter what anyone says about anything and the small amount of 
cheating that I'm doing she's our very special guest and ..." She 
babbled on, coming to Marily and holding out a box in front of her with 
small pieces of white paper, folded, inside it. "Take your pick, 
Marily, but just one and then we'll announce the number and then we'll 
watch the man scramble for the matching odd or even." She smiled at 
Marily.

Marily's trembling hand reached into the shallow depth of the box and 
took a piece of paper from it. She didn't know what to do, what was 
expected of her. She got the general idea that she was to read the 
number as Vivian went on talking, never stopping, never seeming to need 
to breathe like other humans did. "... Read it, Dear, for all to hear." 
She ran down and stood silently waiting for Marily to read the number 
from the slip of paper.

"Thirty-three," Marily whispered, frightened of the number for some 
reason, alarmed that she was suddenly the center of attention.

"Thirty-three, thirty-three," Vivian sang, turning back into the crowd 
and passing among them the box so that they could draw. Marily turned 
to Anna for help and an explanation.

"Oh, you've never done this before. I forgot. Vivian or Peter should 
have explained it to you. You have an odd number, so that whoever, 
rather whichever, man gets the even number in the thirties will be your 
companion for the rest of the evening. We're just trying this system. 
We used to draw only once in the beginning, then return the slips to 
the box. But, for this week-end we're trying something new. I think I 
like it."

Anna sat, smiled at her, and opened her own slip of paper. "I'm very 
lucky, Marily. I got number forty-five."

"I don't think that I can just be selected by a strange man and ... 
just leave with him in front of all these people," Marily said, taken 
aback by the brashness of the whole idea.

"Oh, no, it's not done that way. You'll find that each room upstairs is 
numbered, say ten, twenty, thirty, etc. You just go there when you feel 
like it. Excuse me, I want to talk to Hans." She smiled, stood and 
walked away.

Marily knew that she was going home. She suddenly felt the overpowering 
need to be away, to get her thoughts in order. She stood, deciding not 
to say anything to anyone, just to slip out the back door and go to her 
own house. She just wasn't up to what was expected of her. She got as 
far as the kitchen. Peter stopped her by taking her arm.

"Let me get your drink for you, Love," he said, taking her empty glass 
from her hand. He went around the small breakfast nook and opened the 
refrigerator and took the full pitcher from it, poured her glass full 
to the brim, did the same with his own, then handed hers to her. He 
kissed her lightly, just brushing her lips with his. "Marily, we have 
everyone here this week, which makes it a little crowded, so I 
volunteered your house. I felt that you might be more at ease there so 
thirty is your bedroom. O.K.?"

"Peter, I ... can't. I mean ... I was just going home now. I ... I 
don't know how I'm ever going to face Fred." Suddenly she was crying, 
then just as suddenly she was in his arms, against him, he protecting 
and soothing her with his hands and strength.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I guess we're too much for you, coming all at once--
no pun intended. I'll take you home," he said, leading her out the 
door. He took her to her own house. Marily couldn't stop crying. Peter 
soothed her and helped her into bed, kissing and touching and patting 
her; he placed her head gently on a pillow and told her that he would 
be back, for her to just relax, and finish her drink. He kissed her and 
left.

Marily lighted a cigarette, sipped at her drink and her tears gradually 
subsided. She put out the cigarette, then sank into the bed and dozed. 
She was awakened by deep throated laughter, heard the tread of feet in 
the hallway, then looked up to see Peter standing in the door, his 
smile showing to perfection his white teeth; his arm was around the 
shoulders of Roy.

"Marily, look who I brought you. A real prince." They advanced toward 
her. She shrank back into the bed, a feeling of utter hopelessness 
overpowering her. She had thought that Peter liked her, had even hoped 
that he loved her as she did him, and now she was horrified that he 
would bring in another man, to her bedroom, to enjoy her as he had done 
only a short while ago. She was suddenly deeply hurt.

Peter knew instinctively what was going through her mind. He went 
directly to her, took her in his arms in one sweeping gesture and 
kissed her profoundly. She responded without wanting to, clinging to 
him, his hot mouth burning hers, wanting to hold him so tight that he 
would never get away.

Marily soon was lost, caught up in the ecstasy of Peter's love. He felt 
her need for re-assurance, knew that he alone could provide it for her. 
He held her close to him, kissed her mouth, her eyes, her nose and 
fondled her breasts. He did find time to motion to Roy to get undressed 
and into the bed.

Marily felt the bed sag on the opposite side from where Peter's weight 
was, but for some reason--because Peter was there and was holding and 
kissing her--it made no difference. She had begun to feel the fires 
inside her building again, had started to need badly Peter's hard love 
inside her. Peter eased himself from her arms, gently and with concern, 
and said, smoothing his hand over her forehead, "Marily, be good to 
Roy. He is a good friend." He saw her brow wrinkle, knew that she was 
becoming frightened again, so he said, "Roy, hold her, she's a bit shy 
this first time."

Marily felt herself being taken into the arms of the total stranger who 
was in her bed. She wanted to resist, to cry out, but Peter was asking 
her to do this, for him. She couldn't sort it all out in her mind, but 
she knew that she would do whatever he wanted her to do, so she let 
herself relax in the arms of Roy. She was instantly aware of his 
nakedness, against her, the length of her legs; she could feel the hair 
on him. It bristled against her.

"Kiss her, Roy," Peter said, softly, withdrawing himself totally from 
her.

Roy did. He took Marily to him, then put his mouth onto hers, pressed 
his lips into her and ran his hand down her back, over the white 
mounds, the naked buttocks, delighted in the softness of them. He 
wanted to rush himself into her, to kiss and fuck and plow and pump, 
but he held himself back, followed the advice Peter had given him on 
the way over. He took it slowly, exploring every delicious curve and 
crevice of her, from her neck to her thighs.

For both of them, suddenly and together, they realized that Peter was 
gone. He had been there for Marily, his presence lending credence to 
what she was doing because she was doing it more to please him than for 
her own pleasure, watching and guiding her. For Roy he had been there 
as a warning to him to follow his instructions and not frighten or 
scare the girl. Then, he was gone. Neither of them had heard him leave 
or had been aware of his departure. Realizing this fact, they laughed 
together, Marily shyly, then more forcefully, along with Roy,

Roy wasted no more time. He knew that Marily had accepted him, wanted 
him, so he moved his body onto her and began to kiss her in earnest, 
his mouth pressed into her, his tongue over her lips and between her 
teeth and into her mouth and back, then withdrew it slowly, almost all 
the way out and felt her hold on it, her refusing to let it get away 
from her. He ran it in and out of her mouth, gently, then more quickly, 
and delighted in her response.

Marily felt his hardening on her stomach, felt his tongue probing 
impatiently into her mouth. She had taken it, liked the feeling of it, 
and sucked it into her. Then he had started to withdraw it, she felt, 
and that she did not want, could not give up the pleasure it gave her. 
She caught it with her teeth before he could deny her its pleasure. She 
moved her body slightly upward, pressing her soft white stomach into 
his rising prick, loving the hardness of it.

Roy squeezed and massaged and tore at her buttocks, felt her squirm and 
raise up to press into his ever lengthening hardness. He pushed down 
into her stomach, wanting to slip into her soft pink cunt, but knowing 
that he would not, could not, as yet. He moved his mouth from her, 
kissed her chin, then moved his body slightly so that his head was 
above her beautiful, firm breasts. He kissed one, then the other, then 
licked them with his tongue, feeling the sensations that he caused 
there flicking into her body then out again to the surface and onto 
his.

He kissed and bit and slavered like a child at her tits, then put his 
mouth over the nipple, sucked and worked it with his tongue until he 
felt it spring to life, bursting to hardness and rigidity against his 
tongue. He worked at both of them, could feel the quivering that his 
hot mouth caused.

Marily could not control her feeling, her response to Roy. His sucking 
and biting and teasing of her breasts, then her nipples, sent strange, 
uncontrolled electric pleasure through her. She wanted to push them 
into him, make him take the whole of them in his mouth to bite and suck 
and burn her. She grabbed his head with her hands and looked at him, at 
the top of his busy moving head. His hair was streaked with silver gray 
and it was soft and silky under her hands. She loved the color of it, 
the softness of it, and the pleasure it gave her to push him onto her. 
She moved her hands to his muscled back, ran them the whole length of 
it, then back to his head. She felt his pole like prick on her stomach, 
wanted to spread her legs and suck it into her burning cunt. But, she 
didn't want to be forward, to have him think that she was like a common 
whore. She would just be patient and make herself enjoy and appreciate 
his busy mouth on her breasts.

Roy moved his mouth from her breasts, moved his head down her body and 
kissed the softness of her stomach where only a minute ago the hardness 
of his prick had lain. Her hands still pressed down on his head, felt 
like butterflies on his back, and he continued on, taking small bites 
of her flesh in his teeth and feeling her rising up to meet his every 
action, kissed her lower stomach, just above the soft mound of her 
vagina. He liked the feel of her soft, sparse pubic hair on his chin.

He took her legs, moved them apart, and moved his mouth down to her 
cunt. He spread the soft, hair-lined lips with his fingers, then probed 
gently around them with his tongue. He was awarded by the pressure of 
her hands on his head. They drew him forward with all their strength. 
He pushed his tongue on into the soft pinkness, then withdrew it and 
started the same process all over again. He heard her moan, starting 
low inside her chest then traveling through her, somehow emitting 
itself from her throat and changing into a higher note of sensual 
anticipation.

He turned his body upside down, never taking his mouth from her tender 
opening, until his feet stuck above her head. Then he raised his head 
slightly, moved his arms so that they were under her hips and his hands 
were cupping the smooth flesh of her buttocks, pulling them slightly 
apart, and lifted her crotch to his face. Then, felt her hands move 
teasingly over his own buttocks, then slide around to his balls, 
kneading them, almost causing him to cry out in pleasure, then the 
softness of them closing over his lust-hardened cock. His pleasure knew 
no bounds when he felt the smooth rubbery head being hesitantly probed 
at by her tongue. He did not force his cock into her, but let her get 
used to it, to slowly feed it into her own mouth. He kept his own 
tongue busy inside her soft vaginal slit, in and out, in and out, then 
took the soft clitoris with his teeth.

She bucked upwards toward his mouth, then, with a soulful groan, sucked 
his cock into her own. He kept hold of the clitoris, maneuvering it 
with his teeth and tongue, and pushed his hips slowly so that she would 
take all of his huge throbbing cock into the warm, wet confines of her 
mouth.

Marily wiggled and moved her hips under him with the first realization 
that he was kissing her pussy. She was not surprised when he moved his 
body so that his prick was in her face. She had been silently wishing 
that he would allow her to kiss him there, but had certainly had no 
intention of doing so without his asking. She was aware of the movement 
of his body, the turning of it, so that she opened her eyes and saw the 
hugeness of his prick there for her. She placed her hands on his 
buttocks, which were hard and muscular, so unlike her soft female ones 
that it seemed to be nothing but knots of muscles. She ran her hand 
over it, down the crack of it, then moved them around to his balls. She 
enjoyed the feel of them in her hands. They felt like tender, soft eggs 
to her. Then she had touched his large, pulsating organ, had squeezed 
it in both her hands, and had not managed to cover even part of it. She 
looked at the large, purple head and saw a speck of moisture seeping 
through it and had wanted it in her mouth, wanted to enjoy the taste of 
it with the tip of her tongue. She kissed it, slowly, then guided the 
head into her mouth, over her tongue and between her teeth. It was too 
large for her. Her jaws were sore, used as they had been by Peter and 
Hans, so she had stopped it there, only a third of it in her mouth yet 
still touching the back of her throat. She moaned softly around it and 
began a gentle sucking motion with her lips.

Then she had felt the delicious biting of her clitoris. It had caused 
pains of pleasure to shoot into her, to consume her to the secret 
depths of her vagina. She felt his insistent push on into her mouth and 
she tried to accommodate him, had opened and let the huge pole be 
pushed into her throat. Then suddenly without warning, her loins were 
on fire from the probing and biting by Roy's hot, wet mouth and he was 
moving his prick in and out of her mouth and her arms were wrapped 
around his hips drawing him into her and wanting him to stay there 
forever.

Roy could never in his wildest dreams imagine that she could be as good 
as she was. He loved eating her tight little cunt, sliding his rough 
tongue into it, all the way, feeling the pressure and the clean, sweet 
tasting moisture from the lips and the walls of her pink, hot pussy. He 
had been a little surprised when she had taken the whole of his prick 
inside her mouth, had enjoyed the tightness as it slipped further and 
further into her throat, felt the constriction of pressure on the head 
of it until it suddenly slipped in, in and down, just as he nibbled and 
chewed at her clitoris. He began to move his hips, back and forward, 
then felt her rising pelvis slapping up wildly into his face, he had 
moved his prick in faster and faster, then slowed his motions when he 
felt her arms tightly encircle his ass.

He increased his licking and biting and sucking of her cunt, and his 
own motion in and out of her mouth, until he felt her building up to 
orgasm. And suddenly it was there for him too, in his balls, a 
tightening and preparedness to explode. He lashed into her with his 
tongue, probing and withdrawing, and his hands worked at her anus, 
tearing and probing and working deep into the rubbery tightness, and he 
increased his plunging into her until he felt her ready, felt the 
nerves inside her collect and draw themselves together for the final 
sparking of the fuse, then he jerked his body violently and moved one 
leg over her head and pounded into her mouth with all his might and 
force and bit and chewed and sucked her cunt. He felt her whole body 
tense and come up to meet his at the same time he felt the need to 
come. Then it was there. He ground his tongue deep into her and his 
prick plunged all the way down her tender throat and he ground down on 
that, and her whole body gave an earthshaking tremble and jerked in 
wild spasms and then he came, the release erupting from him, seeming to 
come from all his muscles, the shooting out of him of all the strength 
that he was sure he would ever possess.

Marily was going wild with his tongue lashing into her soft, tight cunt 
and the hugeness of his overly large cock in her mouth, filling it 
absolutely full, then into her throat and suddenly he was moving 
faster, in and out of her, shoving his prick all the way down into her. 
She had felt the movement of him so fast that she had not realized what 
was happening until her head was between his legs and he pushed even 
more of his hard pulsating prick into the small passage of her throat. 
Suddenly her insides had gathered together for the mad relief that she 
knew must come and she could not help but move toward the tongue that 
was inflicting such painful pleasure on her. Her mouth was being used 
cruelly, she felt that her throat was being torn apart, and then he had 
plunged more fully into her, then wildly until she came, then he had 
done so immediately, filling her sucking mouth with his hot sperm, 
burning and sliding over and down her throat. Her pleasure was ten fold 
that she had ever experienced before. Her whole body had rocked with 
it, jolt after jolt, until she had fully flowed, deep within herself, 
and had the welcome relief that she now lay in and enjoyed.

She felt the slow softening of Roy's cock against her tongue, then his 
slow movement upwards, then the slippery withdrawal of it from her 
mouth, over her lips, the large head seeming reluctant to quit its deep 
pleasure. Then it was gone, away from her contact, and the bed moved 
and she felt his arms on her body, his hands moving along her and 
stopping at her breasts, then his head was above her and he came softly 
to her lips with his own and kissed her gently, then lay his head down 
beside hers.

"Wonderful," he whispered. "Wonderful."

"Yes," Marily agreed. "Wonderful."

"Put your hand on my cock," he whispered, guiding it there as he spoke.

Marily felt the delightful softness of him, still wet from her saliva 
and his sperm, and she let her hand rest on his cock. It felt wonderful 
to her. She squeezed it, lightly, then to her surprise it responded to 
her caress and hardened just a bit. She continued squeezing it, each 
time feeling it become harder and harder, and he began to kiss her, 
first her shoulder, then her neck, then he raised himself up and kissed 
her mouth.

Before long it was all there again, her need and desire. His hands were 
on her breasts, his tongue filling her mouth, her own little cunt 
undergoing movements of its own, opening and closing fish-like down 
between her thighs. He moved his hand down her body, between her thighs 
and ran his fingers into her, moving the lips apart. She moaned softly 
again and moved her hips up to meet the rough fingers, but he did not 
push them into her fully.

"What do you want, Marily?" he asked, breathing heavily.

"You in me, Roy," she breathed, realizing that she had spoken his name 
for the first time.

"Then ask me to fuck you," he said.

"Do it, Roy. Do it. Fuck me. Oh, God, fuck me," she said, the lewd 
words exciting her more.

Roy brushed the softness of her pubic hair aside and parted the lips of 
her vagina with his fingers, then had her guide the head of his 
hardened cock to the opening he had made there for it. She had grabbed 
him frantically, her nails digging into the sides of his cock and 
unerringly put the head into her soft, waiting slit. Then she moaned. 
Roy pushed his hips forward slightly, just slipping the head past the 
warm, clasping lips, and Marily groaned as though she were being split 
apart. He kissed her, probing his tongue into her mouth. She took it 
immediately and sucked it deep into her, then he shoved in further with 
his cock, about half of it, and she moaned under him again. He gently 
eased it in, all the way, then rested inside her, throbbing against her 
deep insides, enjoying the comforting closeness of her warm, wet walls 
throbbing around his prick. He kissed her.

Marily had felt the huge wedge being forced into her, knew that he was 
stretching her beyond reason, but realized that she could take him, all 
of him into her, that she loved the feeling, that she could never be 
able to get enough of him. She knew that he was bigger than either 
Peter or Hans and she had to admit, as she gnashed and sucked his 
tongue, that he was better, was not so impatient, knew more than either 
of them did. She began to burn inside as he slowly pulled out of her, 
felt the million little fires that were ignited within her cunt, 
inflamed by the vacuum he left there.

Roy withdrew from her, then eased his solidly hard prick back into her, 
pushed deep down into her belly, imagining that he could feel all the 
heat of her stomach resting on top of his hardened rod of flesh. Then, 
patiently, he started a rocking motion, in and out, that he knew would 
bring her quickly to a demanding need of him, a need that she would not 
be able to fight.

He did nothing more than that, just pushed his big cock into her, the 
head's largeness and softness, gently opening the walls for the rest of 
his passage, then drew out, then just as gently pushed in again. He 
kissed her, massaged her back and squeezed her curved mounds with his 
hands, then released them and ran his hands back up her as he withdrew.

Marily's pleasure was indescribable. She loved the coming into her by 
him, his hardness pushing relentlessly into her, then not resting but 
withdrawing, his rhythm in her cunt matched by the magic of his hands 
on her back and buttocks. She wallowed in the pleasure it gave her, 
sucked gently on his tongue and took it deep within her as he pushed in 
his prick, then sucked it as he withdrew its wetness again. Her body 
began to change, slowly, a dam of need rose deep in her belly with his 
every plunge and withdrawal. She began to move under him, to help him 
slide more easily into her and to satisfy her own rapidly increasing 
lust.

Roy felt her moving under him, knew that her rate of breathing was 
increasing slowly, and he accommodated her ever so slightly by moving 
in and out just a bit faster, nothing that she would notice he was 
doing, but faster just the same. Suddenly she bucked under him, threw 
her cunt into his hard prick as he was withdrawing from her. He knew 
that her moment had come, that she was ready for the total assault on 
her tight little pussy that he planned to give her. He pushed his pole-
hard prick all the way into her slightly, then withdrew. He repeated 
the same thing twice more, was satisfied with her happy groan of 
pleasure under him, then withdrew his mouth from hers and asked into 
her ear, "Do you like it?"

"Yes! Yes, oh yes!" Marily moaned moving under him and clawing at his 
back.

"Then ask me to fuck you, ask me to fuck you," he encouraged her 
gently.

"Do, Roy, do fuck me," she cried, thrusting onto him, skewering her 
burning cunt up the full length of his rock hard cock.

Roy slipped his hands down her back, between the cleft of her smooth 
ass, fingered her rectum and then continued down, over her thighs, 
locked his arms, under her knees and raised her legs up over her, past 
her stomach and moved himself up slightly, and directed her legs up his 
arms, almost to his shoulders, then moved into her, deliberately 
withholding some of his hard prick from her sucking cunt.

"Oh, oooh," she moaned under him, every crevice of her vagina feeling 
filled to overflowing with his hardness.

Roy ordered her to ask for it, to beg him for his prick, as much for 
his own pleasure as to get her to open up somewhat, to cast off some of 
her holding back that he had seen her display the first part of the 
evening and further when he had joined her in bed.

"Fuck me, oh please fuck me," she responded, into the hollow of his 
neck, flailing her head back and forth, pulling and tearing at his 
back.

Sensing her desperation, Roy tightened his muscles, dug his toes into 
the bed, and plunged into her, fully, thrusting his hard pole into the 
innermost secret part of her, felt her pussy tighten around his 
hardness, then relax and gobble the head of his throbbing cock deep 
inside, then close warmly around it. Marily screamed under him, her 
hands stopped their drawing and clawing at his well-muscled back, then 
she lay still, sucking in deep breaths of air.

He moved out, gently, and then plunged back in slowly, only half-way; 
her hands returned to his back, her legs stopped quivering, and he 
readied himself again, slowly pushed into her, felt the same delightful 
sensation of going into her deeply and the fitting around the head of 
his huge prick the very, very before unpenetrated part of her, and she 
responded, again her hands pulling him toward and into her.

"Beg! Beg me, Marily," he told her.

Marily would have eaten live coals to satisfy her need. She was 
assaulted by desire originating in her cunt, then from her breasts, her 
mouth, her buttocks and her legs. She thrust upwards at him, begged, 
"Fuck me. Fuck me with your delicious cock, fuck me in the cunt with 
it, darling ... please ... oh please!"

Roy rewarded her by grinding into her, emphatically, each time she 
shrieked out one of the obscene words that were so new to her. He could 
feel himself building up, knew that she was, so he ground down, deep 
into her, and she yelled "Oooh, fuck my cunt," and he plunged, 
grinding, then withdrew and she cried, "Screw me, fuck me deep. Oh, 
oooh, Roy, fuck me, oh," and he did. He bored into her deeper and 
harder and plowed and ground and he felt her movement deep inside, the 
whole of her cunt sucking and sucking against his hard prick and he 
rammed into her, and knew that she was coming and then felt her liquid 
spread out of her, onto the head of his prick and cause him to cum and 
he heightened his muscles and plunged, and tore into her and then the 
wonderful feeling of release came to him, his balls tightened and then 
released their semen, rushing it through his throbbing prick into her, 
drowning her with the outward rush of hotness. He ground and twisted 
and tore at her flesh with his hands until he was exhausted, until the 
last of his hot semen had spewed out of him, then relaxed atop her soft 
body.

"Thank you, Roy," Marily said to him between her gasps of satisfaction, 
her soft hands resting on his back and on his head.

"Don't thank me, beautiful," he said, kissing her breasts lightly. 
"Let's sleep. The party has really just started."

He slept. Marily lay awake, enjoying the feeling of contentment that 
she had, dreamed lazily of nothing, tried to feel guilt for what she 
had done, been doing, but she could not. She smiled to herself, knew 
that ahead of her lay fulfillment and joy as she had never imagined. 
Eventually, she fell asleep, a deep, deep easy sleep surrounding her.



Chapter 7


The party continued the next day. Partners were selected for Saturday, 
then each of them wandered off at their own convenience, some of them 
sat about and talked and some enjoyed the sun of a surprisingly 
beautiful day in the patio. Vivian directed a good breakfast of tomato 
juice, steak and eggs and eye opening drinks.

Marily had to admire Vivian, who never seemed to tire of talking, but 
who got things done such as the planning of the party, serving of 
breakfast and sharing in the festivities all without, Marily imagined, 
ever closing her mouth. Before the sun was half-way into the sky on 
Saturday Marily had relaxed in the constant flow of words from Vivian, 
found them somehow soothing and realized with a start that she would 
miss them if they stopped.

Marily did not dream that her next partner would be one that she knew 
already, had been with already, Hans. She was startled when he smiled 
at her, showed her his slip of paper, because she was talking to Anna. 
Her face reddened, her tongue became locked in her mouth. Anna smiled 
her assurance that it mattered not to her, then told the both of them 
that she and Peter were to enjoy the day. Hans sat between them, 
holding Anna's hand and talking to her and it occurred to Marily that 
there was true love, that she hoped that someday she could appreciate 
Fred as much as either of them seemed to appreciate each other. But she 
was doubtful. She thought of the 'love making' she and Fred had every 
Tuesday and she shuddered. He would never consent to anything like 
this. She just knew it. What then, she wondered, was he to think of her 
if he ever found out about her week-end. She felt certain that he would 
divorce her, would hold her and probably the rest of them to public 
ridicule and scorn.

Then she surprised herself. She suddenly had the feeling that if that 
were to be the case, she should by all means make the most of the two 
days she had left. She looked at Hans, gave him a smile that promised 
all the delights that he had ever participated in or dreamed about, and 
ignored Anna. Hans' response was immediate. He excused the both of them 
to Anna, then took Marily's arm and led her out of the patio, into her 
backyard and to her house. She felt no shame or remorse whatever for 
all the things she had done with these three strange men. In fact, she 
found herself looking forward to more and more of it.



Chapter 8


Marily worked like a Trojan Monday. She had induced the dentist, her 
last partner of the party, to help her move the furniture in the 
bedroom back to its former position, then she had seen him to the door, 
then carefully tucked his card away in her purse. He had promised her 
an amazing discount on her dental work, and would offer the same to 
Fred later in the week, he told her, as soon as he was initiated a 
member. As soon as he had disappeared through the hedge of the patio, 
she had started her work. She dusted, vacuumed, changed the bed 
clothes, even the pads on the beds, and washed and sprayed a heavy film 
of air freshener through the house.

She had paused in her work to have a bit of lunch, heard a car pull 
into the driveway next door, and had run to the window to see if it 
could be Peter. It wasn't. It was Vivian.

Vivian turned and waved to her, then headed in her direction. Marily 
opened the door for her, tried to smile and wondered if she knew that 
she had hoped it was Peter. She did.

"It's just me. Wipe the disappointment off your face, lovely, and let's 
have some coffee. I've been out laying the groundwork for Fred he's 
very cute, Marily, I don't think that you appreciate that fact and the 
fact that all men, every last one of them have the potential of 
becoming good lovers and husbands and they just have to be taught can 
we have a bite of lunch if you have anything to make and I'll outline 
the plan for you and we have considered your situation here and there 
is little of it that depends on you because you'll be nervous and you 
might ruin it all and we don't want that." Vivian paused for a split 
second and then continued full force, outlining the plan that Marily 
felt she was somehow missing, could not completely follow the flow of 
words that included general comments about everything under the sun 
with the plan thrown in. Generally, however, she got the idea. All she 
had to do was calm herself until Tuesday, then set the first part of it 
in motion. They would do the rest.

Marily practiced until time for picking Fred up at the airport. She was 
so nervous that she could hardly drive, fearful that something would go 
wrong, knowing that if it did it would be her downfall, her disgrace. 
She parked the car in the lot at the airport, then sat for a couple of 
minutes and breathed deeply. It all started now for her. She walked in 
measured steps to the gate and stood, mute, and stared straight ahead 
and waited for Fred.

He came through the gate smiling, and went directly to her. He kissed 
her on the lips without touching any part of her body, not putting an 
arm around her, not drawing her to him, just a kiss. Her nerve 
faltered, almost fled completely, then he began talking and she 
regained some of her self assurance.

"Everything went ideally, Marily. I'm on my way up, I can feel it now, 
I know it now. I didn't want you to worry, so I didn't tell you about 
my doubts. No, but I had them. Meeting the head of one of the world's 
largest corporations was just about too much, but I carried it off 
beautifully. Not a hitch." He helped her into the car, then went to the 
driver's side and slid in, started the motor and they were headed in 
the direction of their home before he spoke again. "And how was your 
weekend, Marily? Did you enjoy the party? Tell me what all you've been 
doing while I was away."

Marily felt an impulse to jump out of the car, to dash herself along 
the highway and thereby end it all, but she couldn't of course. Then 
she thought about just blurting it all out, telling him how she had for 
the first time enjoyed and appreciated the fact that she was a woman. 
But, she couldn't do that either. That left her with only one choice, 
to set the plan in motion. She took a deep breath, turned on the seat 
to face him, and talked.

"Darling, the party was delightful. Vivian is very busy and she invited 
me for dinner Friday night and I went and she had cooked all frozen 
food, but she had been out all day, so I suppose that it doesn't matter 
that much because it was good anyway. Then, the other guests started 
arriving and they have such lovely friends, all of whom I want you to 
meet, and we talked and got acquainted and ... well, it was 
delightful." She stopped and took a deep breath, studying his profile 
to see how he was taking the whole thing and thinking of herself that 
she sounded like Vivian.

"Good," Fred told her, "We need to get to know some people. After all, 
we've been there for two months and it's time we got out a little, got 
to know some of our neighbors well. I like us to get involved." He 
smiled at her.

Marily had to admit to herself that she was already 'involved'. She 
plunged ahead, "Fred, I accepted an invitation to a meeting tonight, a 
discussion, from Peter. I mean that he's in charge of it--it's about 
civil rights that he's very interested in--and Vivian has so many clubs 
and tonight she stays home and I knew that you wouldn't want to go out 
just getting back and all and she says that you should come over and 
visit with her ... well, I took it upon myself to make all the 
arrangements for both our evenings."

"Fine, Marily. But, I don't want you getting involved too much in any 
civil rights movements. That would look bad for me at the company. You 
do understand that?" He looked at her to see if she understood it.

"Oh, yes, Fred, I understand your position. I thought about it when it 
was brought up and at first I hesitated, declined, really, but I think 
that they understand. It's only one time anyway and if I think ... 
well, I can evaluate the whole thing and be careful not to get us out 
on a limb. You'll see."

"Good, Marily, just don't get upset and say something that you might 
later regret, or that will get back to the company. It'll be fine, I'm 
sure."

"Fred ... I told Vivian that you could get acquainted, too. I mean she 
wants to know you and so I thought it would be a good idea for you to 
go over and talk to her. She's having a friend in, a beautiful and 
intelligent woman, Anna Shiller, who's married to a man, Hans, who is 
German, and he's in business here and ... well, I thought it would be a 
good idea so I promised you for the evening." She had spilled the whole 
thing, not gradually as she had planned, but it was out, it was there, 
she had said it all. She waited for his reply.

"Good, Marily, I think you've done very well. Sounds great." He swung 
the car into the driveway, then into the garage and got his luggage out 
of the trunk, carried it into the house. Marily couldn't quite believe 
that everything had gone as smoothly as it had. Now she told herself, 
all she had to do was hang on through the evening and trust the others 
to do their part.



Chapter 9


Marily was extremely nervous that night approaching Peter's house. She 
glanced sideways at Fred as he rang the bell, her mind a complete blank 
about introductions, the proper thing to say when she introduced her 
husband to Peter whom she knew so well.

Peter answered the door, took the whole thing out of her hands. He 
grabbed Fred's hand and pumped it as though he were a long lost friend, 
pulled him into the house and made all the introductions and said that 
he was late, and that he and Marily would run right along, that he was 
sure Fred would be happy with Vivian and Anna. Marily felt he would be 
also. She was amazed at the way Fred's eyes took in the whole of the 
beautiful Anna, as though he were hypnotized by her. She left with 
Peter, looked back at Fred who was still watching Anna and wished that 
she could somehow manage to see the whole thing happening. 
Surprisingly, she felt no jealously whatever.

"How nice your wife is we enjoyed knowing her so much while you were 
away on that horrible business trip leaving her all alone and it was 
nice to have her here and get to know at least the feminine half of you 
and ..." she babbled, putting a drink in his hand that he didn't even 
realize was a drink and he watched Anna and thought that he had never 
seen such a beautiful woman in his life. She had an animal magnetism 
that seemed to overpower every thing else in the room, that seemed to 
make even the nonsense of Vivian acceptable. Anna smiled at him, her 
lips glistening, her green eyes sparkling, and seemed to agree with him 
his thoughts which weren't even complete thoughts in his own mind. "... 
and I have to put little Suzie down she's upstairs in her room waiting 
for me to say good-night so I'll just run right up and you two get to 
know each other," Vivian's voice floated down at them from the top of 
the stairs.

"She'll be up there some time Fred," Anna spoke softly, "Let's go out 
to the patio?"

Fred stood, as she did, and she took his hand and led him into the 
patio. He swore at himself for being such a lunk head, for not having 
anything to say to her, for not being able to do anything but go along 
with what she suggested; he suddenly wanted to assert his manhood, to 
take her to the patio rather than be led like a child. But, they were 
there and he could smell her perfume and he had to keep himself from 
reaching out and touching her, from grabbing onto her and pulling her 
to him.

Anna turned and deliberately touched him, felt the electric spark that 
shot from him, and smiled to herself. She had never had such an easy 
time of seducing a man, she thought, and said, to put him at ease 
somewhat, "It is a beautiful night, isn't it? So romantic, so ... 
peaceful. Do you feel romantic, Fred?" She murmured, moving so that his 
arm touched her hip, "I do."

Fred was fighting a losing battle with his conscience, his mind and all 
his morals. He had never before felt such earth shaking desire of 
anyone as the beautiful woman who had just issued an invitation to him. 
He couldn't believe it. He couldn't restrain himself, either. He 
grabbed for her, tried to find her lips with his, managed to kiss her 
chin, then did find her mouth and the sensation of her mouth against 
his made him weak, in the legs, and his breath almost left his body.

"Please, Fred, not so rough," she said, leaning her body against his. 
"I knew somehow you felt the same thing I did," she said, then kissed 
him, softly, pressing into him as she did so. Fred couldn't believe 
that he had her soft, plaint body in his arms and that she was kissing 
him, unlike he had ever been kissed before. He was afraid that he would 
crush her if he held her as tightly in his arms as he wanted to. She 
drew back from him, said, "Let's go to your house, Fred," and took his 
hand and led him across the patio, into his own and stopped and let 
herself be kissed again. She felt his hardness beginning between his 
legs, so she eased herself against it, felt him pull back from 
embarrassment.

"What ... what about VIVIAN?" he stammered, panting.

"Vivian knows me very well. Don't worry about her." Anna whispered in 
his ear, then walked through the back door of his house and then 
stopped and said, "Fred, do you want to go to bed with me?"

Fred simply couldn't believe what his ears were hearing. He had, at a 
much younger age, felt the overpowering desire that he was experiencing 
now, but it had been a long time ago. His mother had always made him 
feel dirty just because he was a male, had reminded him over and over 
again that women were abused and taken advantage of by men until he had 
come to believe that that was so, that he was dirtying a woman just to 
think about having sex with her, debasing her to put his dirty hard 
tool into her. He had tried not to hurt Marily because she reminded him 
of his mother, the very soul of virginity and cleanliness and purity. 
He had tried to be careful with her, tried always and successfully to 
control himself and look after her too. Now, here he was with the most 
beautiful woman he had ever seen and she was wanting him, not he was 
sure for the dirty, unclean things about man, but out of desire pure 
and simple that matched his own. He trembled from head to foot as he 
drew her to him and kissed her.

"Yes, yes," he managed to tell her, moving toward the bedroom.

Once there Anna set about her task with ease. She kissed him, held him 
closely to her, put her hand on the back of his head and pulled him 
forward to her, then touched his lips with her tongue, then opened his 
mouth and put her tongue inside, and marveled at his trembling body. 
She pushed him gently back from her and unbuttoned his shirt, kissed 
his shoulder, then his chest, and took the shirt off his back. She took 
his hands and directed them in the removal of her own blouse, then they 
kissed again, and Fred's hands moved with utter concern and gentility 
over her back.

Anna helped Fred to unfasten her bra, surprised that he couldn't and 
knowing that he had never done that for any woman before, caused her to 
slow her pace, to remember with whom she was dealing. She did it for 
him, guiding his fingers in the unhooking of the snap that held her 
bra. She saw his eyes bulge when he took in the beauty of her full, 
firm breasts, and she lifted one of his hands and placed it against one 
of them. Again she felt him tremble, so she took his head and moved it 
to her, then, still holding it firmly in her hands, guided his mouth to 
her nipple.

Fred kissed lightly at the soft pinkness of her breast, his hands on 
her hips and suddenly wanted all of her luscious softness in his mouth, 
wanted to stick and bite and tear at her, but he couldn't, instead 
sucked gently at the nipple, worked at it with his tongue.

Anna raised his head, looked into his eyes, and kissed him on the 
mouth. He put his tongue to her lips and she permitted him to enter her 
mouth with his tongue, then took it with her own and gently sucked at 
it, drawing him to her as she did so and felt his hardness that was 
acute press into her without hesitation. She gently moved him back, 
then unbuckled his belt, then unzipped the fly of his trousers, pushed 
them over his hips and down his legs. She straightened, moved his hands 
around her hips and put his hands on the zipper of her skirt. He did as 
she bade him, and her skirt was suddenly on the floor, around her feet. 
She stepped out of it, then reached to him and started to remove his 
shorts. He stiffened and she stopped, afraid of breaking the spell. 
Instead, she helped him to remove her panties.

Fred looked at her nudeness in sincere shock. He had never in all his 
twenty-five years seen a woman naked. His eyes traveled from her lovely 
face to her magnificent breasts, firm and pointing upwards and crowned 
with a pinkness that he had never seen before. Then his glance took in 
her stomach, flat and smooth and soft looking and slightly muscled, 
ending in the perfect V at her crotch, her soft slightly less black 
pubic hair laying silken and downy, then to her wonderfully full shaped 
thighs and perfect legs. He gasped with the totality of her, the 
richness of her beauty and the quality that she retained nude that he 
had first felt about her.

Anna laughed softly, moved against him and kissed him, taking his 
tongue into her mouth again, working with it, using her hands on his 
back, across his shoulders and his head. She felt the throbbing of his 
big cock against her, then laughed when she moved her body gently away 
from his and saw the evil looking one-eyed thing standing straight up 
between them. "Your undershorts are not serving their purpose," she 
told him, sliding them over his hips and down his legs. She could feel 
the goose bumps, the trembling of his legs as she removed the shorts. 
She took his large throbbing prick in her hand and kissed the head of 
it. Fred gasped at her unashamed familiarity.

She laughed again softly, then eased herself onto the bed, took his 
hand and drew him down alongside her. Fred reached out to turn out the 
lamp, she put a hand over his and said, "No, please. Let's see each 
other." He hesitated, then turned to her hot with passion, and drew her 
to him. They kissed, long and passionately, Fred filling her mouth with 
his tongue, probing into her deeply, enjoying and loving the treatment 
she gave his tongue. She gently moved his head to her breasts, and he 
kissed and licked and sucked and felt her raise and push against him. 
He gently bit her on the nipple and continued to do so, working his 
tongue over it, then taking it in his teeth, feeling at the same time 
her hands on his back and head.

Anna moved his head to her mouth, kissed him long and hard, felt her 
breasts being massaged and her now hard nipples twisted and rolled 
between his fingers, she guided his head over her breasts to her 
stomach. He kissed it flatly, his lips pressed into her and sent hot 
spears of delight to her cunt. She spread her legs and moved his head 
down to her thighs, and he kissed and bit the top part of her legs. She 
guided his head between her legs but he would not put his mouth on her 
vagina. "Kiss it, Fred," she pleaded gently, moving her hips up 
slightly and rotating the soft hair-lined pussy right in front of his 
gaping face as she pressed down on his head with her hands.

He shook his head slightly but would not look up at her. She lifted his 
head, pulled his mouth back to hers, kissed him, bit and sucked his 
tongue then moved her hand down to his hard throbbing prick. She worked 
her thumb over the soft head of it, then pulled the foreskin up and 
down and caused him to move violently in her hand. She gripped it 
firmly with her fingers digging into the side of it and pulled so that 
he brought his body around and lay with his legs turned in the opposite 
direction than hers. She moved his head back down the length of her 
body and placed it between her thighs, then slipped her soft red lips 
over the head of his cock. He moaned, then touched her cunt lips with 
his tongue. Anna sucked at him, just the head of his prick, and with 
each probing of her tongue at the small opening, his tongue worked more 
quickly at her vaginal lips. She moved her hands around his ass, which 
felt more slim than her own Hans', and reached between his legs and 
rolled his balls in her hands, then moved further down on his ever 
hardening and lengthening prick until it filled the whole of her mouth.

Fred couldn't believe what was happening to him. He delighted in the 
softness of her stomach, the firmness of her breasts and reveled in the 
ecstasy of kissing, for the first time, into the soft pink slit of a 
beautiful woman's vagina. He hadn't been able to at first, when she had 
wanted him to, but she had taken him into her mouth, without 
hesitation, and he wanted to do the same for her, feeling somehow that 
it was right, that it was not the dirty thing that he had been led to 
believe. He probed the soft flanges of her and wallowed in the delight 
it gave him. He moved his tongue deeper in, felt her put her hands on 
his ass, then take his balls and cradle them lightly in her soft hands. 
He felt like rejoicing.

He licked more violently at her, knew that he was exciting her because 
of the movement of her hips, and then his tongue felt her clitoris. He 
moved it upwards, causing her to moan and take more of his hard prick 
into her mouth, so he worked it around with his tongue, causing her to 
thrust upwards so that his whole mouth was suddenly slapped into her 
soft wetness and bore in, sliding his tongue in as far as it would go, 
enjoyed the pressure that she exerted on it, and without realizing it, 
pushed his prick further into her throat, received a slight hurt from 
it because of the restricting tightness suddenly clamping around it. He 
tried to withdraw it, but she pulled him further into her mouth by her 
pressure on his ass, so he relaxed and further explored with his tongue 
his new discovery.

Fred moved his hands to her wonderfully shaped hips and spread her 
apart so that his tongue had greater access to her. He felt her own 
fingers on his rectum and he touched her gently, then tried to push his 
finger into the rubbery tissue, was momentarily stopped, not wanting to 
force her and bring pain to her, then continued and worked his finger 
into the tight resisting hole and pushed his tongue full hilt inside 
her and she squirmed and ground her hips under him.

Anna moved Fred's prick from her mouth because she felt him building up 
to cum. She took his head in her hands and moved it to her mouth, then 
maneuvered him so that his long, hard prick was between her legs. She 
moved her hands between them, took that tool in her hands and moved her 
lips aside and placed the head inside her, then moved ever so slightly 
upwards until the head of it was completely in, then stopped and kissed 
him. Fred moaned with delight.

"Fred," Anna whispered directly into his ear, flicking her tongue 
inside it and causing him to shiver, "I want you to fuck me."

Fred had never before heard a woman use that word. But somehow it 
didn't shock him because it sounded natural coming from Anna, indeed he 
could think of no other word that would have been more apt, more 
suitable for the occasion. Just her speaking the word excited him 
almost beyond the limits of his control and he pushed into her, causing 
her to cry out with pain. He stopped immediately and started to 
withdraw, but she said no, just rest where he was. He loved the feeling 
of her cunt walls around his hard prick, the heat seeming to come from 
the inside of her and caress his own burning desire. She pulled at his 
back with her hands and he eased on into her tight passage, felt the 
walls give slightly at the touch of the head of his prick, then waited 
until she pressured him again then continued, pushed all the way into 
her, and she moaned.

He rested there, pulsating and throbbing in her, wanting to move in and 
out and up into her, waiting for her to guide and tell him how to treat 
her. She did. She moved slightly away from him so that he slipped out 
of her slightly, then, shoved back, spearing herself on his prick. He 
immediately moved in, then out, and she took his rhythm and matched her 
own to it, helping him with every thrust, until he reached a crest, 
knew that he was going to have to empty his load within her hot 
readiness, and he moved suddenly, slamming himself into her more 
forcefully and she guided his arms up under her legs and moved them up 
until the upper part of him was resting on her and then he moved 
himself forward on his knees and pushed into her cunt with his hard 
cock and felt something give deep within her and he ground down and she 
groaned and clutched at his hips with her hands. He repeated the same 
thing three times, then lost all sense of what he was doing and pounded 
and rammed into her and ground into her and felt her flow against him 
and knew that for the first time in his life that he had made a woman 
have orgasm and then he felt his own quick coming orgasm building and 
then giving out and rushing from him and he ground and pounded and 
plunged until it was there, the most wonderful release he had ever 
known, rushing from him from every fiber of his being into the most 
secret parts of her. He spewed and ground out his semen into her and 
loved her violent movements against him, helping him reach the foremost 
peak of joy.

Then it was over, he rested in her, and she kissed him and rubbed his 
back and said, "That was beautiful, Fred, beautiful," and he agreed, 
not verbally but with his body, moving a little further into her. He 
kissed her beautiful face, her brow, her eyes and her nose and her 
mouth. He felt as though he had been transported to heaven. He felt 
completely at ease, did not feel the need to shower and clean himself 
as he had every time before, and marveled at himself.

"Fred, I must go. Really," Anna said, moving from beneath him. "I would 
like to meet you tomorrow for lunch, but I don't want to be here when 
Marily returns." She kissed his lips and then got out of the bed.

Fred hadn't thought of Marily. Now, hearing her name on the lips of 
that beautiful woman, he did think of her, tried to feel guilty about 
being unfaithful to her, but he couldn't. She had never in two years of 
marriage, been what Anna had been for him tonight. He was amazed by it 
all, the wonder of Anna. He couldn't take time to consider Marily. "We 
will have lunch together tomorrow, Anna," he heard himself promise, 
then began to dress himself. Suddenly he thought of what Marily had 
told him about Anna, that her husband was a nice, handsome man, and he 
said, "Anna, what about your husband, Hans?"

"What about him?" She smiled.

"Well ... I mean us here and ... but he'll never know, huh?" he 
laughed.

"Oh, yes. He will know. I will tell him. We have no secrets, Fred. 
None."

"You'll tell him? My God!" Fred exploded, his mind agog at all the 
trouble he was headed for.

"Fred, you're invited to a party this week-end. I was going to explain 
it to you tomorrow, but I suppose it would be best now. We want you to 
join the neighborhood club, both you and your wife, and we meet this 
week-end at my house. Where will we have lunch tomorrow?" She smiled 
warmly at him, then took his hand and led him out of the house, through 
the patio, across the patio to the Aiken house and they sat on the 
couch and sipped at a drink and waited for Vivian to come downstairs.



Chapter 10


Fred was amazed that Vivian should still be upstairs, putting the 
daughter to rest for the evening. He looked at his watch, couldn't 
remember at what time he had left the house, to go to his own with 
Anna, decided that it didn't really matter. He sat and marveled at his 
own sexual powers, at the pleasure that Anna had given him and he 
apparently her, and watched Vivian descend the stairs without hearing 
what she babbled about.

And babble she did. For somewhat close to an hour she talked, Anna 
mumbling "Yes," or "No," or "Really?" occasionally. Fred didn't listen, 
couldn't have repeated anything the woman said, until she mentioned his 
name. His ears perked up, he tried to focus his mind on what she was 
saying. He was horrified. She was questioning Anna about him, what he 
had done in bed with her, how he had reacted. His face, once he 
realized what she was talking about, was suddenly hot and, he knew, 
red.

He was relieved for a minute when he heard a car pull into the 
driveway, certain that it would be Peter and Marily, then a near panic 
seized him when he considered what his wife would think unless Vivian 
shut her mouth. He forced a question, by speaking loudly, to change the 
course of her conversation: "How long has Peter been practicing law?"

"About five years he's had the same office here in Mill Valley but he's 
been out of school before that, say about one year, we looked for a 
place to live, to raise the child in nice surroundings and be near a 
good school, all things that one must consider when the yoke and 
pleasure of parenthood is looped about one's neck and ..." She droned 
on, until the doorbell momentarily interrupted her. Not that she 
stopped speaking, she simply changed subjects, opened the door wide and 
caught a surprised Marily in her arms, then started talking to Peter 
about their daughter, some clever thing that she had said.

Fred stood when Marily entered the room, hoped that he was not 
blushing, tried to assume a calm and normal voice when he asked her, 
"How was the meeting?"

Marily was looking closely at Fred, putting him at a disadvantage. She 
wanted to see if there was any outward sign that he had participated in 
the plot for his happiness, but she could discern none. She had 
received a nod from Anna, meaning to her that the act had been 
completed, that he was well on his way to becoming a member, but she 
wanted to see it on his face. She couldn't. "Oh, Fred, it was 
wonderful. There is so much going on here, in this community you'd 
never believe. You would enjoy it very much. I know you would." She 
turned to Anna, then.

"What did you people talk about? Did you get acquainted?" Fred was 
undergoing mixed emotions. He had been afraid that talkative Vivian 
would let the cat out of the bag, but now that his wife was talking, he 
feared for a moment that she would know how to get any information that 
she desired from another woman. Then, when he heard Anna answering his 
Marily, he knew that the former was too bright, too intelligent, to 
give anything away. He relaxed. Shortly, Peter came and maneuvered him 
out to the kitchen, mixed both of them a drink over Fred's 
protestations, and talked.

Marily didn't know what to say to Fred once they were alone. She had no 
fear that he had been told anything about her weekend just past, but 
she wanted him to tell her how he had felt, how he had gotten along 
with Anna and Vivian. She didn't know that the plans had been modified, 
that both women had felt that the two of them might be a bit much for 
him, coming all at once. She said nothing, however, but she did ignore 
the disarrayed bed, hurriedly turned back the covers and pulled the 
sheets back, trusting that he wouldn't remember or think about how he 
had left it. She felt a slight pang of jealously when she came to him, 
in bed, and he told her, "Marily, not tonight, O.K.? Let's forget about 
it for this week. The trip and all ..."

She went to her own bed, lay down and smiled to herself. For the first 
time, even after the assurances from Anna, she knew that Fred was 
undergoing a change of character, that he was, quietly and unto 
himself, thinking about her for the first time in a long time. She went 
to sleep as soon as she heard his soft snore.



Chapter 11


As the week-end approached, Marily became more and more nervous. Fred 
seemed to be changing every day, almost right in front of her eyes. He 
had purchased a couple of bottles of liquor, had mixed the two of them 
a drink each evening. That in itself was amazing, but the most 
fantastic thing to her was that he kissed her, passionately almost, 
both Wednesday and Thursday when he came home from work. He seemed more 
relaxed, more in control of himself than he ever had before. She had 
her own doubts about the coming week-end. She was anxious about how 
Fred would accept the fact that she was a woman, just as much in need 
as he was of sexual fulfillment, about what he would think when he 
realized, as he must surely do, what the party the preceding week-end 
had been like for her.

She had been visited by Hans, on Thursday, during the short lunch break 
that he had, and he had laughed at her fears and told her that her Fred 
was with his Anna. His quieting of her roaring needs had helped calm 
her, but she was, by Friday afternoon, ready to collapse.

Fred was no help to her when he came home. He seemed so sure of 
himself, so determined about his every action, that she had all kinds 
of intuitive feelings about the coming week-end. It almost blew her 
mind. She sighed, then with great effort, decided that things would 
just have to take their course, that she really had no control of the 
situation and that she would just have to feel her way along during the 
whole scene that was to follow. And, she knew that the whole thing 
would be a surprise to Fred as it was supposed to be to her. She 
dressed carefully for the party and smiled at Fred when he opened the 
door on his side of the car for her to get in. She almost giggled, 
realizing that he was just as, if not more, upset than she was.

Hans and Anna lived in a beautiful old house, right on the water. The 
view was magnificent. San Francisco majestically rose up among the 
hills across the bay, Alcatraz sat lonely and abandoned in the middle 
of the water and the waves gently lapped at the pilings at the 
foundation of the house. Marily remembered Anna saying that her family 
had left the house to her, and wished that someone would leave her such 
a house. Fred, in the meantime, was making a great show of finding the 
doorbell, trying to prove to her that he had never seen the place 
before. She almost felt sorry for him. They entered a darkened house. 
Anna had no lights on anywhere, except in the kitchen. They were all 
sitting in the living room, the lights making strange patterns on the 
walls and the clothes of the talking guests. Anna and Hans moved Fred 
and Marily about, introducing them and getting them into a seat. All 
had gone fine until Roy had been introduced, along with his wife, and 
at that time Marily had had a moment of panic when he had squeezed her 
hand, then patted her on the buttocks. But, apparently it all went over 
Fred's head or vision, his mind locked as it was on Anna.

They sat for a short while in the living room, looking at the heavenly 
vista before them, until all the guests had arrived. Then Hans invited 
all the men into the kitchen, and Anna took charge of the women. She 
advised them all that the party for the first night at least, would be 
held in total darkness, and that this week, in honor of the new 
members, the men would do all the choosing, or drawing. She directed 
each woman to an upstairs room, two to the room, and there they waited 
for the men to join them. Marily had every misgiving that could 
possibly assail her. Anna took her arm, realized that she was 
trembling, and told her, "We are to share the same room. Everything has 
been worked out in advance. Do not worry, Marily. Please."

Marily started crying, her whole body shaking, and told her between 
sobs, in the bedroom, "It can't be. He'll never forgive me. And I love 
him, Anna, I really do. He'll hate me. You know how men are. It's one 
thing for them to do this, but quite another for their wives."

"Marily, you must trust us. I've been with Fred every day this week. I 
have come to know him. He was very dubious about your accepting such 
doings, but I promised him that I would take care of everything. He is 
just as concerned as you, believe me. There will be no trouble. You 
will see. I think that it will help you get on better with each other. 
I really do." Anna talked, helped Marily to undress and made her lie 
down in one of the huge beds in the room. Then she went through a door, 
into the bathroom that was just off the bedroom, and returned with a 
damp, cold wash cloth and gently bathed Marily's face. "After all dear, 
there will be no talking, no names mentioned tonight. That is the rule 
of this party because it is in our house and believe me, Hans and I 
have thought it all out very carefully. There now," she said, patting 
Marily on the shoulder and getting up from the bed.

Marily wanted to express her thanks to this wonderful woman, but she 
couldn't. Although Anna had not quieted her fears, she had lessened 
them somewhat. She buried herself deep into the bed, almost dozed, then 
felt the bed give and strong hands reach for her and she signed heavily 
and moved into the demanding arms. She hadn't even heard anyone enter, 
but here he was, whoever he might be, kissing her. Marily lifted her 
hands to his head, felt the nape of his neck, and knew that it was 
beyond doubt, Peter. She was so grateful she could have cried all over 
again, but she didn't. She drew him down upon her and kissed him with 
all the burning passion that was in her.

Fred had entered the same bedroom, worry crowding his mind about his 
wife, wondering what she would be thinking, if she were fighting off 
some strange man, horrified with the thought of what he was doing to 
her. He had settled within himself the probability that she would leave 
him, would divorce him publicly, could visualize himself being called 
before his boss and fired on the spot, but there was nothing he could 
do about it. Anna was too powerful for him, too much a part of him and 
his unknown desire for him to care. He had worried about Hans and had 
been more than shocked when Anna told him that Hans knew and approved 
of what she was doing.

At first he had simply refused to believe it, then tonight meeting Hans 
and liking him instantly, he knew that she had been telling the truth, 
that somehow they were close to each other as man and wife in a way 
that he and Marily were not because of this. He trembled, moving toward 
the bed and the woman he knew would be there. She had promised. He 
lowered himself into the large bed, reached for and found his desire, 
Anna. He kissed her, passionately on the mouth, his hands explored 
again, in wonder, her now familiar body; all thoughts of Marily fled 
his mind.

Peter's long, hot kiss spun Marily's mind. The worry about Fred, what 
he would think of her and what he might do to her when he found out 
about her past week-end, dissolved like a lump of sugar in hot coffee 
as soon as she had drawn all of Peter's delightful tongue into her 
mouth. He was laying in his favorite position, his hips flat on the 
bed, his arms across her, his hands on her breasts, and his mouth on 
hers. Her arms flew about his, she rubbed his leg with her foot, 
feeling every individual hair that grew there, and sucked at his tongue 
and moved her lips against his. Her hands played over and down his 
back, to the small of it, and she playfully pulled on the short hair 
that she felt there. Peter bit her in return, and laughed into her 
mouth with his own, then squeezed her breast so hard that she would 
have cried out had she been able to do so.

He withdrew his mouth from her, put it on her breasts, bit softly at 
the nipple, caused it to spring into hardness instantly, and put his 
hand between her legs, his fingers exploring until they were on the 
lips of her cunt, then he jabbed into her, causing pain to shoot from 
her soft cuntal slit up to her stomach and into the tips of her 
breasts. She didn't mind. She reminded herself that he had come at her 
in brutality, had literally raped her, and she had forgiven him for 
that. Then, she decided that in her strange mood of the evening that 
she would rape him, would make him feel as he had made her feel that 
first time. She felt like laughing inside, deep down, at her own 
deviousness.

She moved her hips backwards, ridding herself of his finger in her 
cunt, and made him turn over on his back, then she got on top of him, 
made sure that his soft, hardening prick was laying on his stomach, put 
her cunt on top of it, on the underside actually because the top was 
laying along his stomach, to his large muscled arms and folded them 
behind his head and held them there at the elbows with her hands, then 
put her mouth on his.

She bit his lips. He shook his head trying to escape her sharp teeth, 
but she bore down, then shoved her tongue into his mouth. He bit her 
tongue, causing it to hurt like hell, so she withdrew it immediately 
and bit him on the neck, causing him to squirm under her. His prick 
hardened suddenly and Marily tightened her legs around his back, 
knowing that her hot little slit was causing the throbbing there. She 
raised herself slightly, moved her breasts across his face, then lifted 
them out of range of his seeking mouth, laughed softly and then kissed 
him, probing deep into his large mouth with her tongue.

Peter tried to release his arms, but Marily would not permit that. She 
put all her weight on his elbows and he stopped resisting. She moved 
her firm breasts across his face, brushed his lips with their hard 
nipples, and ground her pelvis down onto his stomach, knowing that the 
inner softness of her barely touching his hardened cock would drive him 
out of his mind. Peter shoved his hips upwards, enjoying the feel of 
her hot wetness on his prick, but Marily would not let it move. She let 
him take her breast in his mouth, pushed herself forward so that she 
filled his mouth with it, felt his tongue probe the nipple, his teeth 
clamp down on her. She pulled up abruptly, her own need on the verge of 
overpowering her, and teased him with both her breasts, then leaned 
over him, bit his nipples just as he had done hers.

Marily raised her hips, felt his rock hard prick spring up, worked her 
vagina into position over it, then eased herself down so that the head 
of his prick was just barely in the prime opening of her cunt. Peter 
tried to force himself up and further into her, but she would have none 
of that. Every time he pushed up, she lifted herself away from him. 
Then, in her own time and her own manner, she gradually slipped down on 
him, knowing that her hot pussy was driving him insane with desire. She 
continued slowly, using her new-found muscled walled vagina, and took 
all of his huge hardness inside her. She rested with that big wedge 
inside her, would not let him move his hips, having her legs firmly 
wrapped around him, until she was ready, until she had had enough of 
teasing him, then she moved her cunt up and down his long prick. She 
felt herself moving rapidly toward need of fulfillment, so she released 
his hands from behind his head and placed them on her hips.

They gripped her there, strongly, mashing into her soft flesh, and she 
moved up and down with ever increasing motion, then ground down on that 
hot spear, enjoyed the throbbing head of it deep inside her, then 
bucked onto it, her movements shifting into a frenzied gyration, and 
took it to the top of her and held him there until she came, until the 
warmth flowed out of her, around him, against the soft rubbery head. 
Peter tried frantically to move under her, to buck his prick into her, 
to satisfy his own screaming need, but she locked her legs tightly 
about him and prevented any movement on his part.

Peter realized what she had done to him, that she had raped him just as 
he had done her, and he felt like laughing. It served him right, he 
guessed, but that was another time, another place. Now he found himself 
gripped into her tight, hot cunt and his balls tight and needing to cum 
and she wouldn't let him, wouldn't continue with the movement that 
would bring him release. He slowly tensed his muscles, dug his heels 
into the bed, and in one quick movement flipped her over and reversed 
their positions so that he was on top of her.

Marily was surprised. She had been torturing him, had kept his hot, 
hard cock trapped within her, refusing to give him his pleasure, then 
suddenly she was under him and he was ramming into her, plunging 
wildly, grinding and pushing deep into her. She wanted to gain back her 
former position, had indeed started to, when her body betrayed her, 
catching fire and wanting and having the flames deep inside her burst 
into maddening fire. She relented, met his every movement with her own, 
slammed her vaginal lips to the very root of his hard pistoning cock 
and sucked him into her when he ground deep, and then it was there for 
her again, and him at the same time. They were one and frantic with 
each other, he trying to get inside her completely and she trying to 
take him, until they both felt the ultimate release, he spewing holy 
into her, she releasing her own fluid to meet his, the continued 
pounding and plunging until they were both spent, satisfied, she for 
the second time, then she drew him into her arms, and rested under him. 
She felt that she had managed to rape him and that he damn well knew he 
had been taken. She felt truly gratified at her conquest and a feeling 
of all encompassing warmth rippled through her.



Chapter 12


Marily and Peter lay quietly together for some minutes, then she got 
off the bed and went to the bathroom. She washed herself, using the 
douching equipment that Anna had pointed out to her earlier. She washed 
her face in cold water, then went to the door of the bathroom and 
carefully opened it, and gasped when Anna brushed against her. They 
both laughed, softly, and Marily continued on, groping in the darkness 
for the bed.

She moved herself onto it, guided by Peter's strong hands, and lay down 
in perfect contentment against him. He lay utterly still and she 
massaged his chest, enjoying the feel of hair against her hands. She 
felt rather than heard Anna coming back into the room, then Peter had 
moved her hands from him and slipped out of the bed. She watched the 
blurry outline of him in the total darkness, expecting him to enter the 
bathroom. He did not. He went to the other bed, leaned over it, then 
another man moved out of the bed and groped his way toward her. 
Suddenly, she was frightened.

She moved slightly hoping to avoid the closeness of him, then felt his 
hands on her stomach, then they moved to her breasts. She gasped from 
the shock of the coldness of them. Suddenly his lips were on hers, 
gently, almost shyly, and her fear disappeared. She kissed him back. 
His tongue probed her mouth, ever so softly, and she took it into her, 
moving her tongue against his as gently as he had moved into her. They 
kissed, wetly, then his mouth drew away from hers and was carefully 
placed on her breasts. She heard a small gasping cry from him at the 
wonder of her.

She moved her hands to his head, smoothed his hair and ran them down 
his back. He trembled. Marily felt a deep satisfaction knowing that she 
could please him by the simple movement. His tongue raced over her firm 
breasts, at first slowly, then faster, and her nipples sprung into 
hardness against the tormenting wet muscle. She pulled him to her. He 
moved his sex against her. She felt the tremendous length of him, the 
hardness of his prick against her leg, and she shuddered with 
anticipation of having this stranger grinding it around in the depths 
of her warm, wet pussy.

The wonderful mouth sought hers again, she almost greedily sucked his 
tongue into her. Then it was gone, and then it was on her breasts 
again, then on her stomach. She loved the feelings that it aroused deep 
within her, the desire that had been so recently satisfied, springing 
to life again, next to her heart.

She was electrified with pleasure when the gentle hands spread the lips 
of her vagina, then the warm breath was breathed into her waiting cunt, 
then the gentle probing of his tongue around the soft flanges of her. 
She lay still, waiting for the next pleasurable sensation to invade 
her. It did. The tongue explored her opening, into the walls of her, 
then deeper, then up to and around her clitoris, causing her to move 
her hips forward to meet it. She put her hands on his head and pulled 
him into her, pressed his face down onto her cunt, moved so that the 
wet probing muscle would go further into her. She moaned with pleasure.

Fred had approached the bed with trepidation. He was, he felt, going to 
his own doom. He had to walk across the room, get into bed with and 
make love to a complete stranger. He forced his nerves under control, 
told himself that he could and would do this because Anna wanted it. He 
had lowered himself into the bed, had forced himself to reach for the 
waiting female flesh.

He was startled to find the smoothness and softness in his hands, even 
more so than Anna, he knew, and he had gone ahead and found her mouth 
with his and kissed her and gradually she had responded, tenderly and 
gently, causing a warm rush of good feeling for her to pour out of him. 
He had kissed her breasts, which were magnificent to his touch, so firm 
and yet soft and luscious. He had moved his mouth back to hers, the 
same soft lips and tender tongue had received him with something near 
to his own eagerness, and he had reveled in the pleasure it gave him.

Then he had wanted to take her all into his mouth, to know every part 
of her body with his lips and teeth. He had kissed and sucked at her 
breasts, then her stomach, and unable to resist, he had parted the lips 
of her vagina and probed it with his tongue. She had responded 
instantly placing her soft hands on his head, sending electric currents 
rushing through him, all the way to his toes. He probed deeper, took 
her clitoris and rubbed it with his tongue, causing her to come alive 
and respond fully to him. He felt proud of himself.

Marily had been loved more than she had all her life in one short week, 
but never had she felt such attraction for, such compassion for, the 
man that was with her now. He was gentle and hard and solid and tender, 
and a complete stranger to her. He was so expertly kissing her inner 
softness, sending thrill after thrill through her, that she wanted to 
give him the same satisfaction, wanted to repay him for her own 
pleasure, and she didn't want him to stop. She indicated with her hands 
on him that he should turn his prick toward her head, and he did so, 
slowly, and she put her hand on it, then felt the sack of his slightly 
swaying testicles, and rubbed them together and knew that he had 
hardened more.

She gripped the fleshy softness of him and moved her hand over it, then 
around the head of it, and guided it to her lips and kissed the pulpy 
softness and then moved her mouth onto it, over the head of it, and 
felt him push slightly by way of thanking her for her consideration. 
She loved the still softly probing tongue in her cunt, so she eased his 
prick slowly into her mouth, felt it wonderfully filling her, then 
moved it further in, down deep into her throat. She moved her hands to 
his ass, which was soft to the touch but well-muscled, and into his 
crack and through his legs and took his balls into her hands again.

She sucked at him, almost gagging on the fullness of his hardening 
cock, and wiggled and squirmed her hips in pleasure of his hot tongue 
in her cunt. She felt her needs boiling within her, getting ready to 
spew forth, and at the same time an increased throbbing along the 
entire length of his huge prick. Then he was moving away from her, 
breaking the contact of his tongue on her cunt, then he was moving his 
hips backwards and removing his prick from her mouth. He reversed his 
position and kissed her, burning kisses, hot and impatient.

He moved himself between her legs, then spread them with his own, his 
hands busy exploring her breasts and her hips and the soft mounds of 
her buttocks. Then he gently penetrated her tight cunt, moving slowly 
and almost shyly into her until the large throbbing head was secured 
within her vaginal lips, then stopped for a second, then moved gently 
and easily into her, the walls of her cunt accepting what seemed to her 
to have always belonged there, all the way until he was fully within 
her. The controlled passion of his hard prick beat gently against her 
softness.

He moved slowly in and out of her, bringing her feeling outward with 
each gentle stroke. She received him each time, sucking his hardened 
cock into her, then giving up easily when he moved it out, ready always 
but not hurried for the filling up of her again. Like a well running 
machine that had been set to time perfectly with her heart beats, his 
motion rhythmed with her need until she seemed to shift gear and want 
to move faster, wanted to feel the increased speed of that hard flesh 
move in and out of her hot cunt at greater speed. It did, the movements 
speeding up and up and then his arms going behind her legs and pushing 
them back and opening her more and then ramming into her and plunging 
into her, pushing up and up and feeling more and more wonderful to her 
with every in and out thrust until she came, at the exact same moment 
he did, her own fluid pushed back by the bursting hotness that he 
spewed into her. Then there followed a relaxation for the both of them, 
he still hard and tight within her, and they slept, in that way, 
shifting their positions only a little so that he was no longer full 
weight upon her. Marily felt at peace with the world, love for the man 
who had been so kind to her, who seemed to be so gentle and masculine 
and commanding of her body and spirit.



Chapter 13


Fred and Marily awoke at the same time, almost the same instant. The 
room was still dark, but shadows of grayness played around the windows, 
the water slapped against the pilings under the house and seemed to be 
more insistent than it had the previous evening. Both of them lay 
without touching the other, aware that each was still there, and 
marveled at the discovery of each other, still not knowing the name of 
the person they had found.

Fred was almost sick. He had never dreamed that such a woman existed on 
the earth, had never dared think that he might ever make love to her. 
His mind kept telling him that she had to be married, that she was 
someone's wife since there had been only couples there. He thought it 
unfair, so ungodly destructive, to him.

His mind floated back to the time his mother had discovered him kissing 
his first kiss, an ugly girl who happened to be the daughter of his 
mother's best friend. She had hit him on the back with her fist, hard, 
almost knocking his teeth loose because they banged into the teeth of 
the ugly girl. His first sexual excitement had been turned off much 
faster than it had exerted itself. And then, he remembered, the ugly 
girl had told his mother that he had just attacked her, had just pushed 
her up against the wall and started kissing her. His mother had 
believed her.

He wondered what his mother would say to him if she could see him now, 
in bed with what he was sure was a lovely woman even though he had no 
idea what she looked like. She'd probably still blame him, fight at 
him, because he happened to be a male. So be it, his mind echoed deep 
within, may she rest in her self made hell. He wondered if the woman 
was thinking of him, was comparing him to her husband, perhaps. He 
moved his hand until he found hers, then folded the softness of it 
within his own, and slept again.

Marily had awakened suddenly, but not abruptly, and knew beyond doubt 
that the man alongside her was awake. She wanted to move her body to 
his, but yet wanted him to want her too, so she did nothing, lay still 
and calm and wondered when they had moved apart, if he had awakened and 
moved out of her. Then she realized that that would probably have 
happened anyway, because when Hans and Peter had slackened, had changed 
from hardness to softness, they had both withdrawn from her without 
effort on their part. She was still satisfied, no needs coming alive 
inside her with her awakening, so she permitted herself to think.

She had to face Fred as soon as the day came. That was certain. She 
would have to look at him, to hear his lament of dismay when he fully 
and finally realized what she had done, which he had also done, but she 
was sure that he would never forgive her. She didn't care, now, she 
told herself, because she had discovered her true love and he was still 
beside her. She was positive that he would feel the same toward her as 
she had toward him, even though neither of them had spoken a word, she 
didn't know yet who he was and ... maybe he did know who she was, maybe 
he had plotted with Anna and Hans to have her. No, she doubted that. It 
had been a random thing, he had come to her from Anna. Just after Peter 
had left her--that he would know about, too.

She almost cried. Why had it taken her so long to find love, to be 
truly satisfied and fulfilled, and why did it have to be a faceless, 
voiceless body? Whom could she tell? Whom could she cry out in her joy 
to? No one, she answered herself, absolutely no one. She knew that she 
could never, never tell Fred. He'd kill her. He'd never been violent 
toward her, but she realized that like all men he had it there, well 
covered, perhaps, but it was there. She'd probably get a fine display 
of it early this morning.

She felt the hand searching for hers, joyed in the warmth from it, the 
protectiveness of it, the strength she felt when it closed over her 
own. She was ready to be pulled to him, to have him make violent love 
to her, but he didn't. He simply took her hand and held it in his. And 
she felt good from the contact of him, knew that he wanted her to rest, 
to store up her energy for their coming bouts of love, of which, she 
assured herself, there would be many. She drifted off to sleep again, 
her mind at rest, her body relaxed.

Marily awoke again, fear pervading the whole of her. She did not jump, 
but awakened to an alert state, her mind warning her of some danger, 
close by, ready to destroy her.

Then, slowly, she realized what had awakened her. It was Fred's soft 
snore, close to her, roaring in her head now that she had recognized 
the sound. Her hand was still closed in the one she loved, but there 
was that snore. She didn't open her eyes, out of fear, not knowing what 
she should do, jump up and run and grab her clothes and never look back 
and risk waking him, wherever he might be, or simply to lay as she was, 
ready for slaughter and hope that the man she held onto would protect 
her.

She knew that it was light, that the sun was high in the sky, before 
she slowly opened her eye, the left one, easy like, to the rest of the 
room. She closed it much more quickly than she had opened it, snapping 
the lid down and squeezing it shut. Then she gradually opened both of 
her eyes together, and looked slowly around the room. She couldn't see 
into Anna's bed completely, but what she saw of Peter's head convinced 
her that it was he, that he was still in the room. The snore continued, 
somewhat louder, then stopped abruptly, leaving a huge emptiness for 
her fears.

She felt the big hand tighten on her, gradually, and she slowly turned 
her head and looked at him. She screamed.

In no time at all Anna and Peter stood over her, both completely nude, 
and Fred's face was just above hers. She felt as though she couldn't 
breathe. She gasped and panted and drew back from the look she saw on 
Fred's face. Then it changed, his lips parting into a smile, his eyes 
becoming soft and holding hers locked in his stare.

"Marily, Marily," Fred said, shaking his head in wonder. He leaned over 
her and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

"I didn't scare you that much, did I?" he asked, smiling at Peter and 
Anna.

"Oh ... Fred," Marily broke into tears, unable to contain herself, 
happy that it was he. "Oh, Fred," she cried again, wrapping her arms 
about him. He held her tightly to himself, tried to console her.

"It was wonderful for me, too, Marily," he cooed, burying his face in 
the hollow of her neck. "Wonderful," he kissed her mouth again.

"Well," Peter throttled, looming above them with his sex dangling in 
front of their eyes, "isn't love wonderful? If you'll excuse us, Anna 
and I feel the need for food. We'll see you later in the kitchen."

Anna smiled her understanding to Marily, then turned and walked away 
with Peter. Marily looked at their buttocks moving away, Anna's full 
and voluptuous, Peter's thin and muscled and hairy, and felt like 
laughing at the contrast. She watched them dress, openly enjoying the 
two of them helping each other into their clothes, Peter clowning and 
crying out as though Anna had caught his skin in the zipper when she 
closed his fly. Fred laughed, too, and watched the two of them, his 
eyes traveling over and down and then back up over the beautiful figure 
of Anna. She seemed like a goddess to him, almost as much a woman, he 
felt, as Marily. As soon as they left the room, both of them waving 
merrily to them, Fred shoved the cover off Marily's body and looked at 
her full breasts, her slightly rounded and smooth, flat stomach, the 
pubic hair that outlined her sex perfectly, her rounded hips. He let 
his eyes feast on her, the beauty of her, thankful that she was his, 
and then went to her and kissed her and moved his body onto hers.



Chapter 14


More than an hour later Fred and Marily went to the kitchen and were 
invited to have breakfast by Anna. Everyone was especially nice to 
them, particularly Hans and Anna. Anna made them sit at the counter of 
the breakfast nook, served them cold tomato juice, arranged their 
plates and silver and napkins. Hans busied himself at the stove, 
talking all the while of the breakfast that he was preparing for them. 
He flourishingly filled their plates with a mushroom omelet, delicious 
to both of them, then sat and watched them eat it and talked to them.

"So," Hans laughed, "I heard a scream this morning, from Marily. I 
think I know why. Ya! You have discovered your husband, right?" He 
spoke directly to her, but smiled in Fred's direction.

Marily blushed, ashamed that she had caused such a scene, and nodded 
her head. Fred surprised her by laughing, then said, "I almost screamed 
myself, Hans. I might have if she had not. We were both shocked."

"That is good," he told them solemnly. "You make me think of myself and 
my wife. You are just like us, I think."

Now Fred blushed, thinking of his fucking of Anna, how delightful had 
been his discovery of her or her of him or both of them of each other. 
He could find nothing to say to Hans, even though he wanted to put into 
words his appreciation of him and of Anna. Hans expected no less, so he 
continued, seeing the need to put both of them at ease.

"Let me tell you, both of you, but mostly for Fred. Please. I left East 
Germany when I was sixteen--a teen-ager as you Americans say. I was a 
small boy when the war was over, when the Russians came into my 
village. They were animals, every one of them, all the officers, all 
the men. They destroyed everything that stood in their way. They were 
like children. If they do not get their way in all things, they become 
violent. The day they arrived, we were all afraid of them, I can still 
hear my mother saying to me 'Hans I must hide you. God only knows what 
they will do to the children.'"

"There had been many stories. Many. I thought that the Russians would 
eat the children. I think that perhaps my mother thought so, too. So, 
she did hide me. In the basement. I remember that I was so fearful of 
the dark, very much afraid. I think I may have cried myself to sleep. I 
do not remember. I do remember one night hearing my mother scream, 
amidst the noise of shouts that I did not understand and door slamming 
and rifle butts against the walls of the house. Then, my mother she 
screamed again, loudly, making a sound that I did not know any woman or 
man could make."

"I crawled up from the basement, from my hiding place, and looked 
through the door. I saw my mother being raped, I did not know at the 
time that that was what was happening to her, but it was. They had her 
on the table in the kitchen, and one big man was raping her, others 
were holding her and there was a line of men behind her, all dirty and 
big and they all had rifles and guns and ammunition all over them. My 
mother she could not cry out. One was at her face filling her mouth 
with his large pole, another was shoving himself cruelly into her 
vagina. I watched it all, hating every one of them, wanting to kill 
them. I did not know what they were doing to her, never had I imagined 
such a thing could happen to a person. Each of them took their pleasure 
with her. They were about twenty of them, then they left. I went to my 
mother and she looked at me with sad, sad eyes."

"I cried. She did not. She got up from the table, went to her bedroom 
and I remember hearing her in the bathroom, then she came back to me. 
She took me on her lap and said that she did not know how to tell me 
but she must. 'I have been raped, Hans. You will understand the word 
one day. All men do. All men are prone to do this.' I remember that she 
cried, and she pushed me away from her. I remember that. I can see the 
whole thing now by closing my eyes."

"But, from that day on I always thought of myself in connection with 
the Russian rapists. Always. When I was thirteen and I had the first 
desire of sex, I turned it off. I did not want to be like the Russians. 
I did not want to hurt any woman as I had seen them do my mother."

"Then we escaped to the West. My mother and me. I never knew, never saw 
my father to my memory. He did not come back from the war. There life 
was more easy, there were automobiles, there was a school for me, and 
there were girls I could have had. But I could not. I wanted to, but 
always there was the picture in my mind of my mother and the Russians. 
I did not want to hurt a girl, a woman. Then, I met Anna, four years 
ago. I was a virgin. Ya! Still. I loved her when I first saw her. I 
married her. But we were not happy. I could not tell her why we could 
not have what she would consider normal sex relations. But she told me. 
She showed me by introducing me to this club. I tell you this because I 
think your story is similar to mine. I think it is always a mother who 
puts the blocks to happiness in a boy's mind. They do."

Hans looked closely at Fred, knew that he had hit close to home. He 
wanted both Fred and Marily to know that he liked them, that he wanted 
to help them to appreciate the better things of life. He wanted them to 
accept each other, to be happy with their chosen partners. And, he was 
astute enough to realize that it was Fred who had put the blocks in the 
way of their happiness.

Fred hesitated, then smiled at Hans, forcing it at first, then meaning 
it sincerely. "You're right, Hans. I think, too that mothers put the 
block there. But I don't think that your mother wanted to. I mean she 
had no choice about being raped by the Russians."

"True, but she did not have to say that I was a male like them, even 
so. She could have chosen other words and saved me years of suffering. 
Right?" He asked passionately.

"No. I would never have forgiven her," Anna said, sliding her arms 
around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. "Every woman wants to 
make her man over and I had the chance. I would never have forgiven you 
if you had been different."

They all laughed with her. Fred smiled his silent thanks to Hans for 
the telling of the story that must have been painful for him, because 
he realized that he did it to show him, Fred, that his hang-up over his 
mother was not unusual.



Chapter 15


Both Fred and Marily enjoyed the remainder of the party. Each of them 
had been reluctant to let the other go, to permit him to take another 
partner with the new drawing at lunch time, but they did. Marily was 
paired off with a man she had not noticed before, an older man, who was 
the medical doctor for the whole group.

Fred won Vivian. Even though he was not delighted with the prospect of 
her, she was with him. She talked, compared him to all the other men in 
the room, pointed out to anyone who might be listening all his virtues, 
his handsomeness, his frank and beautiful eyes, his tallness, his 
slimness of hip and verbalized her own desire to have those same hips 
grinding against hers.

Fred was embarrassed at first, then realized that no one was listening 
to her. She talked on and on, holding his hand, then releasing it and 
putting a drink in it and then holding it again, never stopping, never 
expecting an answer. Fred blushed deeply with one thought: that the 
only way to stop her talking was to fill her mouth with his prick. The 
idea jolted him. He had truly never had such a thought in his life and 
so he sat red-faced, looking at her moving lips.

Vivian knew what he was thinking. She liked the idea that it should 
make him blush. She talked on, but she pulled him off the couch and 
took him up the stairs to the bedroom. Once the door was closed, she 
stopped talking long enough to give him a hot burning kiss on the 
mouth, grinding her pelvis against his, then continuing with her 
monologue, "Age is not always a drawback, we learn so much as we grow 
older," she unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands over his chest then 
to his back and said, "If what I think you were thinking is correct, 
you were right in your assumption and I want you to prove it to 
yourself." She kissed him again, taking his tongue into her mouth and 
her hands fumbled with his belt and then his zipper and his pants fell 
around his ankles, and she took her mouth from his, "And I've wanted 
you ever since the day you moved into the house across the hedge from 
me and help me take this off," she moved his hand to her bra strap and 
he unsnapped it and was surprised that she had such full, firm breasts, 
then laughed at the thought that her lungs would have to be bigger than 
anyone's, and she moved his hands to her skirt and that was gone and 
she led him to the bed.

"What beautiful, streamlined muscles, I like them all and I want to 
explore the whole of you and I'll stop talking and use my tongue for 
better purposes," and they were on the bed and she was forcing him down 
and she was on top of him, still going strong and she probed her tongue 
in his ear and took it out and "I like to make you squirm and your sex 
is already hard and good and it makes my flesh all goosebumpy and," she 
moved her mouth down his body and bit and talked and kissed and he 
squirmed under her and suddenly she was silent except for the quiet wet 
sucking noises she made with her mouth on the head of his prick. But 
not for long.

"Wonderful, wonderful," she murmured, kissing his balls and biting at 
the flesh just under them, then he felt her tongue probe into his 
rectum and he raised his hips up because the feeling was new and 
wonderful to him.

Vivian ate and talked her way back over him and kissed his mouth and 
told him he was ready and he mounted her and drove his hard rod into 
her and she gasped and didn't talk and he fucked her hard. He was 
surprised at her tight pussy, at her ability to use the muscles in it 
to suck his hardness deep into her and release it at her own desired 
speed and time.

Suddenly she had established the most erotic rhythm for the both of 
them and then they came, together, and Fred was happy, was satisfied 
with her and with himself. Surprisingly, she did not start talking 
immediately after, but rested silently, and her hands roamed over him, 
expertly, and when she did start talking it was unhurried and quiet and 
restful to him.



Chapter 16


Marily and Fred were not displeased to have the party end. They had 
both benefited from it, and this both of them knew as they drove home. 
Inside the house Marily looked around, felt that she was seeing their 
home for the first time. She turned to Fred and he took her in his arms 
and kissed her as she had never been kissed before. She liked it, she 
loved her 'new' husband. "Now you'll be too much for me," she told him, 
feigning pushing him away from her.

"I'll try to be, darling," he said, taking her again in his arms and 
moving his hands down to her soft, full buttocks and pulling her pelvis 
into his. "And I can try better in the bed, too." He moved her toward 
the bedroom.

Fred's and Marily's happiness increased daily. Marily had some struggle 
with her own feeling because Peter came to her house twice during the 
week and Hans invited himself over once. She was surprised that she 
wanted Peter and Hans, just as much as she had the first time. She 
enjoyed Fred more than either of them, yet there seemed to be the need 
within her for other men too.

She hesitantly told Fred about Peter's first visit, and he had laughed 
at her, told her that she was becoming insatiable, then seeing her brow 
wrinkle laughed and told her about his daily visit during lunch to Anna 
or Vivian or Katherine. She was jealous, then laughed at herself for 
being so, then told him that he might pay her a lunch visit someday and 
see how strongly she could show her appreciation. He promised to do so 
the following day. He did.

Marily no longer had to go to the Patio for her morning cigarette, but 
she did anyway out of habit. She enjoyed the fresh air and it tended to 
bring her fully awake in the morning to go there and have a cigarette. 
There was generally dew on the ground, all the small creatures in the 
world were starting their day, moving about slowly and then more 
rapidly, eating and looking for food and she had come to appreciate the 
closeness of all the creatures in the world, had even come to some kind 
of philosophy about man and insects. She was sitting in the patio one 
morning, thinking about the four parties she had attended with the 
group, and someone spoke to her. She looked toward Peter's house, 
thinking that Vivian must be home and was coming to visit her, but she 
saw no one there. Then the voice spoke again, said, "Over here." Marily 
swung her head around and saw where the voice was coming from. It was 
the yard in back of their house, rather than at the side of it.

Marily stood and looked at the beautiful young girl who was speaking. 
"Hello," she said to her. "I'm Marily and you must be the new neighbor. 
I knew that someone had moved in because of the lights, but I hadn't 
seen anyone about. Come over and have some coffee." Marily opened the 
gate, looked at the curvaceous petite blonde as she stepped into her 
yard.

"I'm Sam Kingsley," she said, smiling. Her eyes sparkled.

"Sam?" Marily asked.

The blonde laughed. "It's short for Samantha. Sam."

"Well, Sam, welcome to the neighborhood. What does your husband do? I 
haven't seen him."

Marily did not miss the momentary scowl on her face before she 
answered. "He's in business. Electronics." She did not elaborate.

"That's nice. Mine, too. How long have you been married?" Marily asked 
her.

"Eight months. Sometimes it seems like years, then at other times it 
seems like only yesterday." She sipped at her coffee, said nothing more 
for a few minutes, then asked Marily, "What is there to do here? My 
husband's so busy and he wants me to get to know some people and ... 
well, he's very conservative, Marily, very. I suppose I am too, but ... 
it's strange being here. There's just so much to do in the house and 
then it's all done and the whole day's there facing me." She stopped 
talking and shook herself and her face colored. "I'm sorry, it's just 
that ..."

Marily knew what it just was, but she wanted to hear it from Sam. "Just 
what?" she asked, softly, encouraging her.

"I don't know, really. I just thought marriage would be so different. I 
thought that one could let one's self go, sort of ... enjoy life. But 
it isn't that. Tom--that's my husband--he's so interested in business 
that that's all he has time for. This week-end he's going to be gone 
and I'll just be here without anything to do. I'm sorry, I have no 
right to ..." She stopped, surprised at her own boldness in talking to 
a stranger as she was.

"I understand, Sam. I like you. We'll be good neighbors. We can start 
right now. Could you do me a favor? I need to go shopping and I 
promised my husband that I would be here to make his lunch--he manages 
to come home ever so often--and I'm sure that he would like to meet you 
and your husband, so," Marily rushed on, the plan having formed 
suddenly in her mind, or the beginning of it, "Would you have lunch 
with him? You could get to know each other." She smiled at her.

"Well, I'd love to. I mean ... sure, if you think it's all right. I'll 
make some sandwiches and a salad and ..."

She looked closely at Marily. "How very nice of you, Sam. I'll leave 
him a note and he'll be right over as soon as he comes in. And thank 
you. I just have to go out and I was thinking about calling him and 
telling him to eat downtown but this is sort of a special surprise for 
him, an added something to the week when he comes home. You're sure you 
don't mind?" Marily smiled sincerely at Sam.

"Oh, no, not at all. I'd like to meet him. I wish Tom would come home 
for lunch. It'll give me something to do and look forward to," Sam 
assured her, standing and smoothing her stretch pants over her hips.

"Good. I'll see you when I return, then. And thank you, Sam. Very 
much." Marily watched her go, assuring herself that she had done the 
right thing. Then her mind turned instantly to her own problems. Where, 
she wondered, was she going to spend three hours? She would shop, she 
decided, taking a piece of paper and beginning a note to Fred.

DARLING, she wrote,
LUNCH IS WAITING AT THE HOUSE IN BACK OF OURS. WE HAVE A NEW NEIGHBOR 
WHO REMINDS ME OF MYSELF NOT TOO LONG AGO. SHE IS PREPARING LUNCH FOR 
YOU. BE GENTLE ... BUT FIRM!

                                             LOVE,
                                             MARILY.

She dressed quickly and left the house.  She felt good even though 
pangs of jealousy gnawed at her heart.  But ... what greater love could 
any woman have for her husband, she smiled contentedly to herself.


The End
