Three's A Sandwich
by Peter Jensen 


Introduction 

Love, a wise old sage once said, transcends all earthly pitfalls; it is the 
penultimate vanquisher of the Sword of Damocles. 

This great truism is the theme, the interwoven thread in the intricate 
embroidery of Peter Jensen's superb new novel. The author, well-known 
through world literary circles for his penetrating studies into the 
sociological and physiological and psychological effects of our rapidly 
mutable mores, has in this thoughtful and polemic novel delved into the many 
facets of love and offered for you, the discerning reader, a fascinating and 
soul-searching concept of but one of the many faces of love. 

He tells the sometimes brutal, sometimes deeply moving, always 
fine-delineated story of a college professor, Stan Ballard, and his wife, 
Dawn-two young people adrift in the sea of turmoil which is our modern way 
of living, but yet two young people like any across this great land of ours; 
making the same mistakes, sharing the same joys and sorrows, seeking the 
same answers as sons and daughters are doing everywhere. With rare insight 
and a magnificent command of the English language, author Jensen relates the 
Ballards' struggle for identity, for meaning in their lives and their 
relationship to one another; and how, through what might seem surfacely 
shocking means, they discover the full measure of their love and of their 
direction in life. 

It may be argued by a certain narrow-minded and hypocritical element within 
our society that this novel is a novel of sensual experience, but this is 
patently not so; only secondary are the physical aspects of this brilliant 
in-dept thesis (for that is what it will become known as, by future, more 
enlightened generations). The author firmly and honestly believes that love 
transcends all-and that in order for it to do so, it must ofttimes takes 
avenues which are astounding and perhaps socially untenable in modern life. 
But, he argues, when love sets out to conquer, who are mere mortals to 
question its methods? 

-The Publishers 

 CHAPTER I 

Stan Ballard held his wife's hand as they strolled through the lush bower of 
trees between the rose gardens and the tennis court. He smiled at Dawn and 
she in turn grasped his hand tighter, and then she looked up through the 
tree branches and said, "We're lucky, Stan, aren't we?" "Very." 

And they were, too, thought Stan. He had been happy as assistant professor 
of psychology for the two years he had been at Abbington College, but the 
past six months of being married to Dawn had proved to be even better than 
he had hoped. He let his gaze wander over the grounds around them; past the 
tennis court, up the hill to the Commons, and then to his right where the 
student dormitories were. What better place for such happiness, he felt, 
than in such an idyllic setting as Abbington College? The college was like a 
verdant jewel set in an otherwise drab brown crown of surrounding Southern 
Illinois, and the few people who shared the town of Abbington with the staff 
and students also shared the beauty of the well-kept grounds, all green and 
lush. It was, Stan mused as he walked with his wife, like being placed upon 
the perfect desert oasis with the woman you loved and the work you liked. 
What more could any man ask for? 

Stan's contentment carried over to his wife. Dawn looked up at the handsome, 
will-built man she loved and glowed with the inner radiance of her 
affections. Stan was the white knight to her, had always been since that 
first time she had laid eyes on him in class, a year ago next term. It had 
been love at first sight. The ideal, storybook romance, and she had never 
regretted her love, nor desired to leave the man beside her. She had adored 
his brown, curly hair and the way his face crinkled when he laughed, which 
was often. His nose was a little long and thick, but she loved that, too, 
along with his muscular frame and strong thighs and tanned, corded legs. 
Stan was a natural athlete, loving tennis, swimming, football ... and she 
fit in, being of the same, outdoors mind. 

Stan had loved her fresh, almost innocent beauty. He had seen her in class 
that third term, nervous because she was so new to the college, having 
transferred from University of Chicago after two disastrous years there. He 
had counseled her after the class, wanting to make her feel more at ease, 
and was pleased to learn that she preferred the quiet, more conservative way 
of life at Abbington to the hustling, crude, and far-out existence of 
downtown Chicago's great university. Then he was struck by her natural charm 
and poise, and the way her golden tresses glinted in the frost glare of his 
office's fluorescent lights. Her skin was flawless; ivory white from the 
winter months, but not pallid. She would tan to a gorgeous bronzed hue, he 
seemed instinctively to know, and then he looked again at the rest of her 
body, picturing in his mind how she would look poised on the edge of a 
diving board in a narrow, tight fitting bikini. 

Her body was superb. She was of Northern European stock, and had the 
long-legged, slim-hipped, pointed breast loveliness of Nordic blood. She 
walked with the grace and ease of a cat, yet was prim and modest during the 
time in his office. She did not strut her charms; she did not need to. 

They had met accidentally, or so Stan thought, the next week. It was the 
first decent day after a rainstorm, and Stan had gone from his little 
cottage to play tennis-in the very same tennis court that they were passing 
now. There was Dawn, practicing her forehand against the side of the fence, 
for she was the only one around. She had done her homework well, and it was 
no accident that they "happened" to meet. It was only natural that they 
should play together, and then have coffee afterwards ... They were 
inseparable partners after that. 

They walked past the tennis court and turned left and continued down the 
gravel walk to Franklin Avenue. Franklin Avenue was the street upon which 
the college professors lived, all in a row in neat little clap-board houses. 
At the end of the street was the larger, fancier house-though still no 
mansion-of Abbington's president, Williard Lytell. The street was narrow, 
tree lined, and well lit in the evening darkness. The Ballards strolled down 
two blocks and then, at the corner of Franklin and Watts, started up the 
little cement path to a white frame dwelling. 

"Sorry, darling?" Stan remarked as they climbed the steps to the porch. "You 
weren't too keen about coming here tonight." 

"I've changed my mind," Dawn replied, "Woman's prerogative." 

"Well, that last minute invitation ... and you having to get ready so fast 
... and meeting me over at the Psych building ... I can understand." 

"No woman-likes to be hurried when she's going to go out for an evening, but 
it's better than not going out at all." She hugged her husband's arm. 
"Besides, it's too nice a night to get upset. I forgive you." 

Stan had always admired Dr. Edgewater, thinking of him to be as a shrewd, 
competent, psychologist and an able teacher. The classes he taught were 
popular, he was respected and liked by the majority of the student body, and 
he was considered fair and tough on subject material. Stan hoped to pattern 
his own fledgling career on his style, and one of the greatest compliments 
that he had received during his short career was from an undergraduate who 
had volunteered the opinion that Stan taught as interestingly as Dr. 
Edge-water. 

Dawn, of course, looked up the Doctor from a woman's viewpoint, and even 
though he was older and married, he did not fail to incite a secret twinge 
of attraction in her. He was extremely good looking, especially in his 
doe-skin lounging jacket he wore now, and the contrasting black slacks and 
shiny tan loafers. He was polite and well mannered, and she knew from Stan 
that it was a privilege to work under him. She would have been definitely 
attracted to him if it had not been for Stan and the fact she was already 
married, He had a smile which put one at ease and a bearing which was both 
impressed and gave confidence. She had caught him casting appreciative 
glances her way a time or two, but then many men had as she was extremely 
attractive, but he had never broken the role of the perfect gentleman nor 
intimated that he would desire to carry their relationship past mutual 
admiration. 

But still, she liked him immensely, and that was one of the reasons why she 
had decided to go to the Edgewaters this evening. Stan had called a little 
after four, saying that Dr. Edgewater had extended the invitation for a 
quiet evening at his house, and if they, the Ballards, had nothing else 
planned, would they like to spend some time getting to know one another 
better socially over drinks. Dawn had been in curlers at that time, dusting 
the house, and while Stan would have disagreed, she thought she looked 
terrible. She told him so, and the fact that it was inconsiderate of him to 
wait this long before telling her of the invitation, but still and all, she 
was able to dress and put on her makeup in plenty of time to meet Stan in 
his office and walk with him to the Edgewater home. 

She and Stan took seats in the comfortable living room. It was furnished in 
maple, Early American style, with a big, oval hook rug grouping the 
different pieces together into an ensemble. The anger of a few hours 
previous had long vanished with the anticipation of a fine evening with the 
Edgewaters-that is, if the doctor entertained as well as he performed the 
duties of his profession. While Stan had socialized a bit with him in the 
past, and Dawn had been over to the house once or twice since she was 
married, this was the first real time that they had gotten together or that 
she would have a chance to meet Faith Edgewater. There was more to it than a 
few hours of shop talk with someone you admired and liked and enjoyed being 
with; this was one foot in the door of a successful career, for when you 
labeled a person such as Dr. Edgewater as a personal friend, it was 
considered an honor and a valuable asset. 

"I'll mix some drinks. What's your preference?" Edgewater asked 
solicitously. "I have most everything." 

"Scotch on the rocks for me," Stan replied," and honey?..." 

"Oh, I'll have a little scotch, too, with soda." 

"Good as done," Edgewater said. He stepped to the mahogany paneled bar at 
the far end of the room, next to the fireplace, and started mixing their 
drinks. As he did, there was a musical rustling sound, and the Ballards 
turned from their position on the couch and looked up at Mrs. Edgewater, who 
was descending the staircase near the entrance. 

"Ah, my dear," Edgewater said. "You look ravishing." 

Faith Edgewater smiled warmly at her husband's kind words, and again with 
the shiver of her gown, she walked gracefully into the room, extending her 
long, slim arm in greeting. "Good evening, Stan," she said, her voice low, 
throaty, and crooning, "And is this your wife? It must be. She's as pretty 
as you've described her to be." 

Stan stood and shook the proffered hand. He had been fascinated by this 
strikingly beautiful creature every time he had met her in the past, but 
somehow tonight she seemed to have outdone herself. She was the essence of 
pulchritude, the perfection of sensuality, and in spite of his deep and 
abiding love for his wife, Stan felt his libido give a quick, jerking leap, 
and his genitals responded to this female with a growing ache. 

Faith wore a simple white sheath, belted at the waist with a strand of gold 
chain links. The sheath was scandalously short, ending almost mid-thigh, and 
it was extremely tight across the buttocks. It had been the whisper of her 
nylon panty-hose which had been heard by the Ballards, the rubbing of her 
inner legs together as she walked down the stairs and into the living room. 
The sheath was low-cut, drawn together at the neck by a thin rope tied at 
the nape. Her large, ripe breasts were visible almost to their nipples, 
quivering like mounds of creamy smooth egg puddings in their slim 
encasements. Stan wondered as they bobbed if they were free of a restraining 
halter, and whether their uplifted, perfectly symmetrical appearance was 
their own natural way or the product of a well designed bra. It almost 
seemed to him that he could make out the faint, firm outline of large berry 
nipples in the material of the dress-but no, certainly the wife of a psych 
professor wouldn't be so exhibitionistic! Or ... would she? 

Faith had rich red hair the color of burn umber mixed with old brass, a wild 
set of eyes which were wide and almond shaped and which she accented heavily 
with black eye-liner and mascara. She smiled with warm moist lips of the 
same vibrant hue as her hair, and as she shook Stan's hand she moistened 
them slightly with the pink tip of her tongue. Then she turned to Dawn and 
said in the same husky purr, "I'm pleased to meet you, Dawn. I'm so glad you 
came." 

Dawn thought of Faith in a spiteful way at first, for she knew that from a 
standpoint of pure sex, Faith won hands down, and that was something which 
she had rarely encountered in the past. Usually when she was in the company 
of other women, she was the one the others felt jealous over and the men 
came flocking around. She smiled prettily, but inwardly she felt 
antagonistic toward the woman. Look at her. She's almost nude! Doesn't she 
have any modesty? And look at Stan! His expression is ... is almost lewd! 
He's captivated by her! But I can't blame him ... all men are easy prey to, 
to sirens like her! Dawn wondered whether she had any real cause for her odd 
feeling of jealousy, and decided that she did not. Men are easily aroused by 
obvious and blatant sex ... did they not like to ogle magazine center-folds 
of naked women, a pastime which to her made no sense at all? Retract those 
claws, she cautioned herself; this is an important evening for Stan, and 
should be a fun one for both of us. Relax. ... 

"How do you do, Mrs. Edgewater? I'm pleased to meet you at last." 

"Call me Faith, Dawn. All my friends do." "All right, Faith." 

Edgewater came up with the drinks and after handing them to Dawn and Stan he 
put his hand lovingly around his wife's slim waist and patted her fondly. 
"Great woman here, Stan. We've been married almost eight years now and I've 
loved every minute of it." 

Stan said, "I'm sure you two are very happy. Of course, I think I'm pretty 
fortunate, myself." He grinned at Dawn, mentally comparing her quiet and 
somewhat virginal beauty to Faith's overt and sensual muskiness. He couldn't 
help his reaction, though ... and he found himself involuntarily thinking 
that his superior's wife would be one hell of a lay ... that in bed, she'd 
fuck the cock right off a guy. He blushed slightly at the corrupt idea as if 
his thoughts were being broadcast to the others. No use harboring a lot of 
sick and perverted projections anyway as nothing was going to happen between 
him and Edgewater's wife. 

Still, he had to admit she was one hell of a fascinating woman ... He took a 
sip of his scotch, not noticing that he had been served a very generous 
drink, and that his wife had a double portion in her glass. 

The evening progressed rapidly, and in spite of her first reaction, Dawn 
soon found herself warming up to the red-haired Faith Edgewater, developing 
a camaraderie with the woman as they discussed television, recipes, and the 
raising of children-which neither had so far experienced. Dawn found Faith 
to be intelligent and stimulating, and soon the idea of her as a female 
threat passed from her mind. 

Stan, meanwhile talked of the student with Edgewater, for the winter term 
was drawing to a close and this week was for testing. It was Thursday, and 
by this time next week, Stan fully prepared to be finished with the test 
grading and would be enjoying a well-earned Easter vacation. The final, 
spring term would be starting all too soon, he knew. Conversation ranged 
from general politics to specific ideas of how to curb the encroaching 
pollution of Abbington Lake, a resort area with thirty square miles of water 
caused by the building of a new dam nearby. 

The first drink Edgewater had given Dawn had been a little strong for her 
liking, but being a gracious guest, she had drunk it slowly but without 
comment. It was probably her imagination anyway, she told herself, and the 
second drink proved to be more to her taste. She wasn't conscious of the 
effect, but the scotch was affecting her markedly, and she relaxed from the 
tenseness of the hurried afternoon, the meeting of new and important people, 
and her slight resentment of Faith. She became happy and carefree, laughing 
and giggling at the jokes, enjoying the company of the man she loved and two 
people for whom she had grown fond. 

Don, too, had noticed the size of his drink but had chalked it up to his 
superior's flare for being a gracious and liberal host. Besides, he liked 
his drinks with a little kick in them, and he could hold his liquor with the 
best of them. Or so he thought. As the hours passed, he felt more secure 
than he had ever felt before, and that LeLand Edgewater was proving to be a 
valued and valuable friend, furthering Stan's career both directly and 
indirectly. This, he felt, could be the start of a long and satisfactory 
relationship. 

Faith drained her third drink and Edgewater got to his feet immediately. 
"Another, my dear?" he asked. "And you, Dawn? The same?" 

"Well..." giggled Dawn, but she handed him her glass. She lit another 
cigarette-the tenth of the evening-and placed the match in the ash tray on 
the table beside the couch. She had noticed the oddly shaped ash tray from 
the beginning, but it wasn't until the liquor had freed her of her polite 
restraints that she had enough courage to ask about it. She held it up and 
turned to Faith. 

"This ashtray," she said, "The design is ... is peculiar. I've never seen 
one like that before." 

Faith smiled warmly. "Oh yes you have," she replied. "Every time you take a 
bath you see one like it." 

"I don't understand," frowned Dawn. 

"It's a modeling of a woman's pussy!" 

The blunt words hung like incense in the suddenly stilled room. Faith's 
vulgar tongue caused Dawn to gasp inwardly ... had she heard this woman 
correctly? No, nobody would say such a thing, even in the privacy of their 
own home, much besides own such a thing! Her mind whirled, half confused 
from the blatant abandonment of correctness, half from the scotch she'd 
consumed. 

Stan flushed. "I ... I heard you say it was what?" 

"A ceramic cunt," Edgewater said. "Look ... see the red flowering lips and 
the little place which holds the cigarette at one end? That's the upper 
vulva, and the bud there is supposed to be a clitoris. I found it in a 
secondhand shop in Brazil three years ago." 

Dawn almost dropped the wretched, now abhorrent thing. What kind of 
monstrous object was this ... or were they joking? Never had she been 
subjected to such crudeness.... 

Faith continued as if nothing shocking was happening. "Oh, we have lots of 
things like that around. Honey, show them some of our treasures." 

"No, you really don't have to," gulped Stan. He looked at his wife with a 
sickened expression, embarrassed for both of them. Yet inside him a little 
pinprick of lewd sensuality started to tickle his mind, and he found himself 
actually wanting to see the other "treasures"-yet knowing that his wife was 
horrified and completely taken aback by this perverted display. He 
remembered when he had inadvertently used the word, "fuck," and the barrage 
of castigation he had gotten from her over it ... My God! this must be 
blowing her mind, to be subjected to this wholesale titillation: I'll never 
hear the end of it! What the devil has gotten into these fine people? 

Edgewater was standing beside a draped painting on the wall on the other 
side of the bar. "Here," he said expansively, "Is a fine masterpiece by 
Zichy..." he drew the satin curtain aside, and this time Dawn gasped out 
loud. Her hand flew to her mouth as though she had swallowed some kind of 
excrement, and a low gurgle of horror welled in her throat. 

The print was of a Woman with heavy breasts crouched atop a man's adoring 
face, her vulva area spread widely and pink over his lips for his oral 
adoration. 

Great Heavens! That was something which Dawn NEVER allowed him to do to her, 
Stan thought wildly. His mind groped for sanity as he viewed the carnal 
delights etched upon their faces. NEVER! It was dirty and perverted, and yet 
there it was in full color, idolized in classic art! He was torn mentally by 
the extreme eroticism of the caricature and the embarrassment of his public 
display. 

"...And on the other side of the bar..." Edge-water turned the bar, which 
was on castors, around so that the doors were visible. The two doors were 
hand carved in bas-relief, three dimensional images of sexual depravity. On 
the left was a seated man, naked, and on his lap was a similarly unclad 
woman, her head resting on his shoulder. She was facing outward from the 
door, belly sucked in, her long hair spilling down to her ribs. The man 
grasped her breasts and one could almost see him shuddering with delight. 

On the right was the same couple, only the woman had her back turned to the 
viewer so that her full buttocks seemed poised for the next downward stroke 
upon the man's enormous cock. His eyes were bulging and his mouth hung wide, 
and it was so well carved as to be almost like a real couple. 

It sent Stan's blood soaring. 

Dawn seemed hypnotized by the carvings, and then she focused on the picture 
again, and all the while her fingers unconsciously stroked the smooth 
ceramic lips of the vulgar ash-tray. She had never seen replicas of people 
making love, and she wondered if that was the way she and Stan looked in the 
throes of their intercourse. The picture was the most abhorrent, for it 
depicted a perverted and disgusting act which made her sinews tighten with 
rejection. Stan had tried to kiss her ... there, and had even had the gall 
to suggest that she kiss him on his ... penis! Only once had he made the 
request, and he knew exactly how she felt concerning such matters. She had 
made her position very clear about unnatural and dirty actions ... and yet, 
there was no doubt that the woman in the picture was enjoying herself 
immensely, and that the man, with his tongue out and his lips locked in a 
questing oval, was also rapturous. 

A ripple of secret, unwanted excitement passed through Dawn, for she had 
locked her gaze upon the huge penis of the man, its hardened splendor even 
larger than Stan's big male organ. She wondered how the woman would have 
been able to take all of it inside her ... if the scene had been able to 
play on to its climax. She clenched her thighs together at the idea of 
accepting such a monster, her mind clouded by the drifting haze of alcohol 
and the perversions she was viewing. 

"Aren't they interesting?" Edgewater said calmly. He was blandly mixing a 
fresh batch of drinks behind the bar and was smiling directly at her. Dawn 
gave a little start and tried to focus on the present, on reality, but the 
scotch and soda had wrought its damage. She shivered as if caught in a 
sudden cold draft and shook her head. 

"No?" Faith smiled at her. "Don't you like them at all?" 

"I ... I think you should put them away." she said in a low voice. "I don't 
want to look at them any more." 

"Are you sure? I enjoy them very much," Edge-water said. "They excite me." 

"You can't mean that ... you approve of what they're doing?" blurted Dawn 
incredulously. "That you like..." The words stuck in her throat. She tried 
to form syllables, to scream out her revulsion, but still the torture of 
their sensuality crept through her loins. OH God! I mustn't allow this! It 
is wrong! "They're like ... animals!" 

"Merely passionate," Faith replied. 

"Passion should be part of love," Dawn argued back, "And they can't be in 
love ... not doing those things to each other!" 

"Who is to judge what is right or wrong when passionate?" asked Edgewater. 
"Passion is a very strong emotion, for it leads to happiness. Certainly you 
want to make the person you love happy, don't you?" 

"Yes ... yes, but doing those horrible things can't be part of being happy!" 
She took a swallow of her drink, knowing that she shouldn't for the liquor 
was making her mind swim with confusion, making her arguments for morality 
unclear. 

"Happiness is ... is..." 

"What is happiness, Dawn, if it isn't what you see on their faces. They're 
enjoying one another to the fullest, passionate and responsive and complete. 
What's wrong with that, or with enjoying the picture of their exploits?" 

Edgewater's arguments drilled through her steadfast code, making her giddy 
with anguish. She blinked heavily, trying to clear her thoughts, thoughts of 
when she had convinced Stan of the sensibility of her ethics ... of the 
arguments she had used then ... and their logical basis. She went back in 
her life, endeavoring to dredge up the reasons why she found the picture and 
the carvings and the ashtray so abhorrent. 

She had never let any boy touch her or play around with her from her 
earliest years, right from the beginning when her mother had warned her of 
the dangers of sitting on strange boys' laps. She had successfully fought 
off the crude advances during high school and later the only slightly more 
sophisticated attempts by college men. It had been the constant pressure on 
the part of the free-love swingers at the University of Chicago and their 
spurring of her moral fiber which had made her life miserable there and 
prompted her to switch to the more wholesome environment of Abbington's 
campus. 

There she had met Stan, and she knew, she felt at once that he would be 
perfect for her; undemanding, gentle, as pure as she, ready and wanting sex 
only within the confines of their bridal bed ... and then the flash of 
remembrance came to her, the one night when he had slipped and let the beast 
which her mother had said is in all men come through.... 

There had been more drinking than usual, that night last summer. She had 
stayed in Abbington, engaged since the end of the school year to Stan, and 
was with her fianc' most every night-that is, until bedtime. They had 
necked, and after the drinking she had to admit to herself that she was more 
responsive to the idea of some light, premarital kissing on some moonlight 
parking spot ... 

His kisses had sparked more fire than she had desired. She was about to pull 
away when one of his hands began to insinuate its way up the inside of her 
cardigan sweater ... higher and higher until he suddenly began to stroke her 
bra-encased breasts. Little shivers of arousal had spread through her and 
she had sensed a distinct wetness in her vaginal area that had never 
happened before. Then, as now, she had seemed to be immobile, unable to stop 
him anymore than she was able to fight successfully the Edgewater's 
corrupting pornography. She was with Stan, the man she loved, and she had 
felt warm and safe as his mouth moved on her mouth and his hands slid her 
bra up to fondle one bare breast. 

But then Stan had slid his other hand away, and she had heard a zipper 
slide. At first she had thought it was the one on her dress, but it was not! 
She had fluttered her tightly closed eyes open and in the moonlight, she had 
seen for the first time an erect male organ. Her fear had suddenly consumed 
the passion of seconds before, and the quivering penis had changed her 
indecision to one of instant action. She had sat bolt upright. 

"No," she had screamed, "Stan, stop this!" 

"I want you, Dawn-" he had moaned in slurred, drunken words, "I want you, I 
need you-I love you-Ohhhh!" 

She twisted from him, fear enervating her body. She had grabbed for the car 
door, had opened it and the inside light shone like a beacon upon his 
turgid, purplish penis as it stood out hard from his pants. He lunged for 
her, and she felt his cock's warm, sticky head make contact with her thigh. 
"Please, baby, please..." 

And then, as she was about to flee from his carnal attack, his thick rod had 
begun to jerk and a creamy spurt of warm semen had hit her leg, and then 
another and another, staining her skirt, Stan mewling and crying for her, 
yelling of his love, his filthy love ... and she had run and run and run ... 
until she was home in her little boarding-house room, safe and secure and 
alone. 

It had taken two weeks of constant pleading before Stan was able to patch 
things up with her, and she had made it absolutely clear that she had no 
intention of "fooling around"-as she had put it-before they were married, 
and that his actions-well, that was best chalked up to being inebriated and 
then forgotten. Forever. 

Yet, here she sat in the Edgewater's living room, her mind once more 
returned to the present, and in spite of her heavy commitment to her inbred 
moral code, Dawn began to feel stirrings of arousal churn through her loins, 
and she pressed her legs together and moved her thighs on the cushion in a 
vain attempt to quiet the lascivious twitches. 

"I ... I think we had better go, Stan," she said, standing suddenly. "It's 
late, and I'm tired. Please, let's go." 

Stan, by this time a riot of ambivalences, for he was aroused to the point 
of having half a hard on, yet saddened and somewhat chagrined both of 
himself and the Edgewater's careless display of their eccentricities, mutely 
did as she had asked. 

"I hope we haven't chased you out because of our treasures," Faith said. "We 
didn't mean to offend you." 

"Oh no, not at all," Dawn lied blithely. "I really don't care for them, but 
that doesn't mean I'm shocked." She smiled politely. "After all, I'm 
married, too!" 

As the good-byes were being said and they left, Stan couldn't help but think 
about his marriage; the fact that while he was never turned away from 
gratifying himself, the actual physical sex act was always the same-western, 
stare-atthe-ceiling-while-he's-on-top-type-and that it was obvious there 
were others, many others including LeLand Edgewater, who were getting a 
whole lot more action and variety than he. There was a building of 
resentment and antagonism as he walked home with Dawn, both at her for being 
so narrow-minded, and he for accepting it. 

Perhaps it was about time things changed around that bed, he said to 
himself, perhaps it was about time he got as much as that fellow in the wood 
carving... 

* * * 

"Please, honey, I want to suck you," Faith Edgewater moaned, her own fingers 
slipping wetly inside her pink fluted cunt. She was stretched out, legs 
spread wide, and nude upon the sheets of their double bed, arching her back 
and gritting her teeth from her masturbatory manipulations. "Let me suck 
your beautiful prick while I make myself cum ... ohhhhhh..." 

Daivn! Edgewater thought as he unbuttoned his shirt, she really knew how to 
get a guy hot! She uses her body and her mouth, fucking you every which way! 
His pants were already draped over a chair back, along with his underpants, 
and his great, trembling cock stood out from his groin while his wife stared 
at it, moistening her lips with anticipation. He stifled a groan of pleasure 
and then said, "No, not yet baby, not until you've heard my plan." 

"You can tell me the plan afterwards." 

"No, I'm going to tell you now. You were interested enough to hear about it 
when you first met Stan." 

She writhed on the bed, moaning further as her hands sought the warm moist 
cavern of her splayed cunt. She jerked her legs and arched her back and 
plaintively she cried, "But I'm hot, honey, and I want to suck you! Come on, 
let me taste that sweet cock of yours and then swallow every drop of your 
cum down my throat!" 

"Uh-uh," Edgewater said firmly. He moved to the foot of the bed and sat 
down, watching her undulate her hips as he eyes hotly rested on his weapon 
and the bloated sac of his balls. "The first part worked just fine," he 
continued. "Stan got hotter than hell over those little mementoes of ours, 
and Dawn got turned on a bit, too-once we fed her enough liquor. That's the 
secret, I think, with her. Get her drunk." 

"She won't need that excuse for long," Faith said, "I can feel that she'll 
go for everything once we break through." 

"Right," Edgewater grinned salaciously, and the added thought of fucking 
Stan's Puritanistic little wife half to death made his cock leap higher. "I 
figure that Stan is the more susceptible one and that's why I picked now, so 
that we that is, you-can seduce him during Spring Vacation, when he doesn't 
have a lot of other things to distract him." 

"So you can get into Dawn's little pussy," Faith said petulantly. She 
stretched out her legs and began to stroke his thigh with her toe, then 
upward until she was able to move the sole of her foot across the 
granite-hard expanse of his cock. "When do you want me to start on Stan?" 

"As soon as possible. Here, right here in this bedroom so that I can be 
taking the pictures. How does that sound to my little sweet-ass eh?" 

"You know how I love to see myself making it, darling," she said with 
ecstatic breathlessness. 

"Make sure you keep it up for a long time. No telling how long it will take 
for me to arouse Dawn with the films." 

"No problem, lover," she whispered. She turned and began to slowly slither 
down the sheets, her hand still churning inside her burning nether regions. 
"You know me." 

"Hell yes, I do," Edgewater said. He leaned toward her, his cock trembling 
with the expected touch of her lips. "Now suck me, baby," he sighed as her 
mouth closed over his cock's mighty head, "Suck me, suck me, suck me!" 

 CHAPTER 2 

As Stan slowly undressed in the bedroom of their cottage, listening to the 
shower rhythmically cascading in the bathroom, his mind once again began to 
dwell on the erotic possessions of Faith and Lei and Edgewater. He removed 
his trousers and laid them over the back of Dawn's vanity chair, thinking: 
Christ, but I'd like to live the way they do. I was shocked by their open 
display of such sensuality at first, of course, but the more I think about 
it the more I feel there's nothing wrong in having things like they do. 
Hell, they're happy, aren't they? That's obvious. And it's just as obvious 
that my marriage isn't the halcyon union Dawn thinks it is, that I've 
deluded myself into thinking it is. I'm a virile man, and goddamn it, I need 
sexual gratification; I need diversity, abandonment, not a sterile joining 
like a couple of disinterested animals brought together as strangers for the 
procreation of their young... 

Stan felt anger begin to flush his face and neck, made almost savage by the 
liquor he had consumed during the evening. Dawn had acted like some 
Victorian prude, he told himself harshly; you'd think she'd never seen a 
prick before, or her own cunt for that matter. And the expression on her 
face at the sight of that man in the print licking the woman's pussy-it had 
been one of total revulsion, as if sex itself was something unutterably 
foul, a devil's spawn, a product of Puritanism's fire-and-brimstone hell; as 
if anything to do with bodily fusing was a sin to be tolerated because it 
was necessary! 

Viciously, the anger reaching the danger point inside him now, Stan ripped 
his shirt and undershirt off and threw them onto the floor beside the chair. 
He stood there clad only in his shorts, listening to the shower behind the 
closed bathroom door. She's in there right now, the moralistic little bitch, 
he thought. Completely nude, soaping up those soft, beautiful breasts of 
hers and that nice tight little cunt, cleansing her privates of any foulness 
which might have tainted them by what she saw tonight. And then what? She'll 
come out here and give me a goddamned peck on the cheek and go right to 
sleep, while I seethe with frustration. I can hear her voice answering me if 
I ask her to make love: "Not tonight, honey; I'm too tired." Or not feeling 
well, or on the frigging rag, or with an upset stomach-any one of a dozen 
foundationless excuses to keep from doing the most natural, the most 
beautiful, act on this world... 

Stan's brain suddenly began to visualize, through the haze of his anger, the 
lovely, supple form of his wife as she stood naked beneath the needle-point 
shower spray. Her high, pure white, berry-nippled, pliantly perfect tits 
robed with a mantle of soapsuds; her slim, soft, dimpled ass cheeks beaded 
with the hot water; her long blonde hair damp from the steam in the stall, 
flowing like soft silk over her alabaster skin; her natural blonde pubic 
triangle, thin and gossamer wispy, framing the perfect tender softness of 
her coral pink cunt lips; her long, slender model's legs tapering down from 
rich creamy thighs into perfect columns ... 

And suddenly, Stan felt desire surge through his loins, hot fire that 
tingled maddeningly in his testicles and sent the thin cotton material of 
his shorts into a stretched, horizontal tent as his huge cock filled with 
blood and became as rigid as a thick, corrugated tree trunk. His heart began 
to plunge violently in his chest-partially from his sudden intense arousal 
and partially from his anger at his young, beautiful wife's old-maidish 
attitudes toward physical need and fulfillment. His prick was trembling with 
desire now, and almost unconsciously his hands pulled the shorts down to 
allow the smooth, rubbery head penis to leap into the free air. 

He stepped out of the underpants, completely, nude, staring almost fixedly 
at the closed bathroom door across the pale-lighted room. Yes, she was in 
there-nude as he was nude, nude and lovely and desirable-and he was out here 
with a hard-on like some great diamond shaft. But what good was it going to 
do him? When she came out, and took a look at his cock, she would react as 
she always did: discomfort, fear at his prick's great size, shame at its 
exposure to her gaze. And she would go to sleep, and he would lose his 
erection after awhile, frustrated and discouraged, and go to sleep as well.. 
. 

But not tonight! goddamn it, not tonight! 

The thought jumped into Stan's mind all at once, and it was all-consuming. 
Not tonight! No, goddamn it, not tonight! Tonight he wasn't going to bow and 
scrape to her ridiculous wishes. Tonight he was going to fuck her! Yes, fuck 
her! Fuck his wife like a wife ought to be fucked, teach her a lesson, bring 
her around. No more goddamned cow-towing, no more frustrations, no more 
static, sterile sex. 

Tonight he would ride-and ride hell-bent for leather! 

His legs worked independent of his lust-filled, anger-hazed mind then, 
carried him forward across the bedroom with his blood-engorged cock swaying 
like some Roman General's sword ready for battle. He threw open the bathroom 
door, dimly heard the knob bounce sharply off the tile wall inside, and took 
two giant steps forward. His hand reached out and swept the shower curtain 
aside, and he leered in at his beautiful, naked wife standing beneath the 
cascading shower. 

She was exactly as he had pictured her to be in the bedroom, with her 
up-thrust, symmetrically-formed tits lathered whitely and her blonde bush 
glistening with the hot water. His cock jerked spasmodically at the sight of 
her in the flesh, and his balls ached with the need for release of his 
overwhelming load of cum. 

Dawn's mouth opened in a surprised "O" as she turned at the sound of the 
curtain being wrenched aside. Involuntarily, with a reaction born of her 
ingrained moralistic attitudes, she dropped the bar of soap she had been 
using and made a little-girlish attempt to hide her privates from her 
husband's view. "Stan!" she blurted. "What are you doing in here!" 

His cock gave another leap as her unnecessarily modest, prudish actions sent 
a mixture of desire and rage coursing through him, feeding that which 
already existed within his body. "What the hell do you think I'm doing in 
here?" he snapped at her, licking saliva from his lips as he stared at her 
sculptured loveliness. He lowered one hand and encircled his lust-hardened 
prick, lifting it up as if presenting her with some inexplicably wonderful 
gift. "What do you think this is?" 

Her eyes blinked and then lowered to the pulsating glans of his immense 
cock, bulging out like the grotesque head of some giant python held in his 
grip. She gasped softly, drawing back against the wall of the shower stall, 
her eyes widening now and what might have been fear entering them. "Stan..." 
she managed. 

He felt a tremendous surge of power take control of him. He was the lord and 
master now, he was the Dominant partner, and the feeling split his lips in a 
wide, salacious smile of increasing lust. "I'm going to fuck you," he said 
to her, the words spilling past his lips without conscious consideration, 
although in his present state he wasn't at all sorry for them once they had 
voice. "I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before, you 
little puritanical bitch! Right here, right now! Right here on the bathroom 
floor, with your sweet little ass pounding off the cold tile!" 

His foul, disgusting words, and their unmistakable meaning, caused Dawn to 
cry out in abject terror. Never had she heard such revolting things! And 
from her own husband, from the man she loved and who supposedly loved her! 
She couldn't believe it, but it was true-frighteningly, impossibly true! She 
pressed back against the wall as if trying to blend her body with it, 
somehow escape from the leering stranger who stood fondling his penis and 
testicles like a filthy pervert before her eyes; but there was no escape, no 
escape from what she knew to be inevitable... 

Stan reached up and twisted the shower knobs, shutting off the hammering 
spray, his eyes not once leaving the exposed perfection of her femininity. 
His cock and balls felt as if they were weighted down with increasing 
amounts of lead, hot lead, and the swollen glans of his weapon ached and 
tingled with maddening intensity. 

"I'm going to fuck you, sweetheart!" he said again. "I'm going to put this 
big cock of mine so far up into your hot little belly that you'll scream and 
beg for me to pump you full of cum!" 

"Oh God, noooo!" Dawn squealed in anguish, her eyes living pools of 
uncomprehending terror now. "Stan, oh dear God, Stan don't ... don't.. . " 

"The hell I won't!" he roared, still manipulating his great prick, drawing 
the foreskin back with tantalizing slowness, reveling in the command he had 
over his young wife at his moment. "I've had enough of your fucking 
prudishness, your outmoded and archaic attitudes toward lovemaking! I want a 
woman, not some sperm receptacle that just lies on a bed and prays for me to 
hurry so it'll be over and she can cleanse herself of my filth! A woman, 
Dawn, and by Christ I'm going to make one out of you tonight! I'm going to 
fuck you into a woman if I have to split you wide open to do it!" 

With those words, Stan reached out and grabbed her by the arms, pulling her 
to him, his hands exploring her soft, sensitive, shower-wet flesh. His hot 
mouth sought hers out, found it, closed over it, and his tongue flashed 
searingly into the warm cavern of ner mouth. She fought against him, trying 
to break his pinning grip, trying to free her mouth from his questing 
one-but she was too weak against his powerful masculinity. She felt his 
turgid cock grind against her smooth, white belly, felt its 
seminally-lubricated head leave a snaillike trail across her clean white 
skin, and a sudden dread rose in her throat. No, no! her mind rebelled. This 
can't be happening! Raped, by my own husband gone berserk! Dear God, this is 
a nightmare, some evil, wicked figment of my subconscious mind ... I'll wake 
up and everything will be all right ... this isn't real, it isn't it isn't, 
it isn't.. . 

Stan's strong arms pulled her out of the shower stall, onto the cold tile 
floor. She tried to rake his bare back with her nails, but he had her arms 
pinned in such a way that she was defenseless against him. He used the 
weight of his body to force her down onto the floor, blowing his hot and she 
thought, fetid breath into her mouth and face, his throbbing penis rubbing 
anticipatorily over her soft, resilient pubic hair, fouling it, despoiling 
it with his vicious, unwarranted lust.. . 

Their writhing bodies were stretched out prone now, and Stan removed his 
mouth from Dawn's, trailed hot moist kisses down along her throat and over 
her chest to the rising globe of one perfectly nippled breast, taking the 
bud between his teeth, licking and sucking it into an involuntary hardness. 
His hand slipped between their bodies, the fingers sliding through the 
moist, softly wet pubic triangle and forcing their way between her tightly 
closed thighs, forcing the alabaster columns apart with his muscular digits. 
Then the palm of his hand was resting flatly against the warm, fluted lips 
of her cuntal slit, fingers tickling the region near her puckered anus as he 
began to slide his hand up and down with insinuating strokes in her naked 
crotch. His fingers teased the tight, elastic opening of her tender cuntal 
mouth, working their to bring involuntary lubrication from the walls as she 
twisted in his grip. His questing index finger found the tiny nub of her 
clitoris, and he exulted in the gasp of shock which rended itself from her 
throat at the contact of his probe on the quivering, miniature phallus. He 
manipulated her clit maddeningly, at the same time rubbing the slippery 
glans of his prick along the smoothness of her belly, back and forth, back 
and forth. The heat swirled in great rising waves in his scrotum, and he 
knew he was too aroused to be able to control his orgasm much longer. 

He had to fuck his wife now, right this instant! 

Stan raised up, holding Dawn's arms pinned at her sides, slipping one knee 
between her legs. She resisted his attempts to splay wide her thighs, and he 
pulled his lips back over his teeth. "You bitch! Spread those goddamned legs 
so I can see all of that pussy of yours! I've never seen it, and we've been 
married for six son-of-a-bitching months! Always with the light off, isn't 
that right, Dawn? Always in the dark. Well, not tonight! Tonight I'm going 
to look at your cunt, at all of it, before I fuck you! Now spread your 
goddamned legs, like a real woman. 

There was something in his voice, in his lust-filmed eyes, which made Dawn 
obey his harsh command immediately. A tremor of fear wound its way rapidly 
along her flesh, for she had an instinctive feeling that he would hurt her, 
somehow injure her, if she didn't give in. Dear God she thought sickly, help 
me, give me strength! I don't understand any of this ... I can't fathom it. 
Help me understand what's come over Stan, the man I love. Has he taken leave 
of his senses, talking the way he is, acting the way he is ... God, I've 
given him everything a woman can give a man, haven't I? I've given him my 
love, my body, and yet he isn't satisfied ... is he some kind of ... of 
carnal worshipper like the Edgewaters? Is there inside him some kind of 
bestial quality that must be satisfied with a sick thing like this? What is 
it ... what?... 

Stan grinned obscenely down at the spectacle which his horrified young 
wife's splaying of her legs had presented to his lusting gaze. Her cunt, so 
richly pink and moist and soft, the lips like velvet fleeced with downy 
blonde pubic hair, the clit quivering like a red rosebud on a dewy morn in 
the secret nest between her thighs, was one of the most exciting sights he 
had ever seen. He couldn't wait any longer, he just couldn't ... He released 
one of her arms, grabbing his cock as he lowered himself over the supine 
form of his trembling, frightened wife; he placed the bloated, purplish head 
at the entrance to her fear-quivering vagina, teasing it along the rich 
cuntal valley, poising, ready.. . 

Suddenly, without warning, he levered forward with a vicious, almost gleeful 
cry and drove his great hot rod of hardened cockflesh into her vagina, 
reveling in the soft, buttery feel of her sensitive inner walls expanding 
around his invading cudgel, in the ecstatic delight which swirled through 
his balls at the touch of her cervix on the blood-raged knob when he had 
buried his rod to its fullest in the warm sheath of her helplessly cringing 
womanhood. 

"AAAAHHHHuuuuuugggggghhhhhh!" Dawn screamed in pain at his brutal entrance, 
her hips jerking up and her legs rising off the cold floor almost 
involuntarily in protest to his forceful rape of her genitals. But Stan's 
hot, eager lips found her mouth, crushed down on hers to coke off her cries 
with his tongue filling the warm grotto as his cock was filling her cunt. 

Stan began to saw in and out of her now with long, lunging strokes, pulling 
his shaft almost all the way out and then burying it completely again. Each 
time he flexed forward, the hairy sac of his testicles slapped resoundingly 
against her twitching, upturned buttocks. She ground her hips down against 
the tile in a futile attempt to escape, and her legs jerked wide on either 
side of his convulsing body. 

"Stannnnn!" she screamed into his mouth. "Stan ... aaagggghhhh ... you're 
hurting ... meeeeeee!" 

But he was mindless with lust now, with his need for release, with his need 
to ravage this woman who had for six months denied him what he had to have. 
His barbaric implement of torture fucked again and again with relentless 
drive into the defenseless passage between her widespread legs and he could 
feel the heat in his balls grow hotter and hotter.. . 

Lying helpless beneath his impalement, tears of pain and humiliation and 
confusion moistening her cheeks, Dawn felt torn as under by the sheer 
heathen attack of her husband. She prayed for this rape to end, prayed for 
succor, for solitude to cry out her torment. Have your orgasm, her mind 
pleaded mutely. Please have your orgasm, Stan, please cum, please please 
please! 

Then, in order to achieve what she so desperately wanted-her freedom,-Dawn 
endeavored to help her husband climax. She began to jerk and twist her hips 
in a circular motion, opening and closing her cuntal passage with a muscular 
action she had not previously thought possible. Stan was mewling into her 
mouth now, his heart hammering louder than her own, his hands sliding 
beneath her to knead and cup the resilient flesh of her ass cheeks as he 
sawed into her. 

Then he pulled his mouth away and began to chant. "That's it, that's it, 
that's it! Fuck me, baby, fuck me fuck me! Ohhhhhhhh, yes, Dawn baby, fuck 
fuck fuck fuckkkkkkkk!" 

She tried to shut her ears to the foul words, striving even harder to obey 
his command, churning her hips wildly, madly now, squeezing his prick with 
her vaginal muscles harder and harder ... and then she felt him go rigid in 
mid-stroke, heard him gasp once, twice, heard him cry out," Oh God, oh 
Jesus, I'm there I'm there, I'm going to pop my nuts ... yes yes yes I'm 
cuummmiinnggg!" 

And Dawn felt the first jet of hot white sticky semen burst from his 
pistoning rod and flood wetly against her cervix as he heaved himself 
downward once again. That first stream was followed by another and another 
and another, and he was moaning incoherently now and his cock jerked and 
twitched in her pussy, emptying his load of cum in what she thought sickly 
was a never-ending torrent of degradation... 

At last, it was over and Stan collapsed with a soft satiated expulsion of 
breath across her, his weight pressing her soft body hard against the tile 
floor. His penis began to deflate, finally slipping from the warm moist 
semen-inundated hole of his wife's sperm-flooded cunt, trailing her 
lubrication and his cum commingled as one to pool on the smooth floor 
beneath her still wide splayed legs. 

Shame and revulsion were strong inside Dawn as she lay crushed beneath the 
spent form of her husband, and she let the hot tears fall openly from her 
glazed eyes. "Why, oh why, did you do this to me? Why did you make a sick 
mockery of all that we had together...? " 

"Mockery," he repeated with his mouth pressed to the soft hollow of her 
throat. "I might have expected that kind of reaction from you, Dawn. You 
simply don't understand what a man needs, wants for himself and for his 
mate, do you? You refuse to allow yourself to become a woman, abandon 
yourself sexually..." 

"Abandon myself?" she flung back at him. "To something like ... like this 
rape just now? Is that what you want out of marriage, out of our 
relationship? Bestial coupling?" 

"What's the use?" he said, and raised himself up, moving off of her, looking 
down at her with a mixture of sadness and inadequacy now that he had had his 
anger and his passion released through the tube in his cock. "You'll never 
understand, Dawn. You'll just never understand." 

"You raped me!" she cried defensively. "You took my body like I was a ... a 
common whore!" 

"If it makes you feel better to believe that, then go ahead," muttered Stan 
as he got to his feet, his now limp prick swaying wetly against the hanging 
sac of his balls. "Maybe it'd be best if we just ... forgot about us, Dawn." 

"You-you mean ... a divorce?" 

"You said I raped you," he told her. "You don't want to be married to a 
rapist, to a man who treats you like a whore, do you?" 

"I ... don't know what I want! Oh God, Stan, what's happened to you, to us, 
tonight? I don't understand..." 

"There we go again," he said between pursed lips, and without further 
conversation he turned and left the bathroom, slamming the door behind him 
with a distinct note of finality. 

Dawn lay there, hurt both physically and mentally, on the cold floor and 
there was no desire in her to get up, to leave this scene of carnal abuse. 
She just wanted to lay there, sick and tormented, and try to sort out the 
confused thoughts which spun inside her brain. But she found that such was 
useless, that she was unable to sort out any rational conclusions at all. 

Finally, she got to her feet and walked painfully through the bedroom, not 
looking at Stan in the bed at all, and cried herself to sleep alone in the 
guest room off the kitchen. 

* * * 

The phone call from Faith Edgewater came into Stan's office in the 
Psychology Department of Abbington College at a few minutes past two the 
following afternoon. Stan had taught his first two classes that morning as 
per usual, but he had found that he wasn't able to concentrate at all on his 
lecture subject and had finally decided it was useless and cancelled his 
other classes with written notes on the Psych Hall doors. 

He had spent the remainder of the day, until the call came through, just 
sitting in his office and brooding. He had felt very bad upon awakening that 
morning about what he had done the previous night; not that he felt any 
different about what their relationship ought to be, or what was the matter 
with his wife's attitude toward sex. No, it was just that practically raping 
her-she had been right about that, he realized in the cold, sober light of 
day-wasn't the answer to the problem, wasn't the proper approach to making 
their marriage a truly compatible and happy one on all levels. 

He had tried to apologize to Dawn in the kitchen, while she was making 
breakfast, telling her that he had been drunk and had lost his head. He had 
almost begged for forgiveness, hoping because he really did love his wife 
and wanted their marriage to work that she would overlook last night's 
escapade, hoping as well that once she did he would be able in some more 
rational way to convince her that her whole prudish way of thinking was 
impractical and untenable and unacceptable. But Dawn hadn't spoken to him at 
all, hadn't answered his questions or acknowledged his apologies, avoiding 
his eyes and drawing away from his touch as if he was a carrier of the 
bubonic plague. Finally, he had given up in frustrated anger and 
helplessness, and left the house without saying a good-bye or another word. 

He had called her about eleven, still feeling bad about what had happened, 
and she had deigned to talk to him then-but only in monosyllables. He had 
tried to tell her again how sorry he was, and again she had refused to 
listen, changing the subject in a cold flat tone to that evening's dinner 
menu. Both of them said their good-byes in strained voices. 

Stan had been morose and unhappy and depressed when Faith called. He had 
picked up the receiver, expecting it to be from one of the other 
professors-or possibly even from Dawn-and then had frowned when he heard 
Faith Edgewater's soft, mellifluous voice on the other end of the wire. 
Could he come over to her cottage at his convenience that afternoon? she 
wanted to know. It wasn't anything really urgent, but she wanted to talk to 
him about a certain matter concerning both of them. Stan had frowned even 
more deeply at this mysterious summons, but had finally said that he would 
be there in half an hour. 

Now, as he knocked on the Edgewaters' front door, he wondered again, as he 
had on the walk across campus from his office, what it was the beauteous 
Faith wanted of him. Did it have something to do with the display of open 
sensuality of the night before? Perhaps she intended to apologize, and felt 
uneasy doing so on the phone. But then again, she hadn't sounded 
particularly apologetic on the telephone, more as if she was excited about 
something... 

The door opened as Stan raised his hand to knock a second time, and his 
breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the slim, voluptuous form of his 
superior's wife standing in the hallway before him. She wore a pair of 
bikini shorts and a thin, brightly colored halter that accentuated the high, 
ripe beauty of her full rounded tits. The indentation of her navel in the 
flat plane of her milky stomach was somehow oddly exciting to Stan, and he 
had to fight consciously to raise his eyes from her lush curves to her 
smiling face. 

"Well, here I am," he told her lightly. "As promised." 

"Come in, Stan," she said, and stood aside for him. As he passed her, she 
seemed to step forward so that the globular resiliency of her perfect 
breasts brushed provocatively against his arm. He shivered involuntarily at 
the electric contact of the flesh of this alluring woman, but he moved 
forward quickly, knowing that it was dangerous to harbor any licentious 
thoughts about Faith Edgewater. He walked into the living room, and Faith 
followed him, crossing diagonally to the bar, turning there and lifting a 
large, crystal decanter from its surface. 

"I've made a pitcher of martinis," she said in a throaty purr. "Would you 
like one?" 

"Well..." he hesitated, feeling a small flush start on his neck. He felt 
uncomfortable for some inexplicable reason, as if being here with Faith 
Edgewater was somehow wicked; as if there was the threat of something 
sinfully portentive, palpably exciting, in the very air he was breathing. 
But then he told himself that he was being silly, overreacting because of 
what had happened last night. What the hell, why shouldn't he have a drink? 
Christ knew, he could use one right now. He said, "All right. Thanks, 
Faith." 

"Not at all," she said, pouring a double into an old-fashioned glass and 
only a slightly weaker drink for herself into a similar container. She 
carried the drinks across the room, handed Stan his; she stood very close to 
him, and he could feel her breath warm and sweet and musky on his face. She 
was smiling almost wickedly, with her lips parted moistly and her pink 
tongue darting out now and then to lick the soft, soft surface, and he felt 
a quick tingling begin in his genitals. He tried to will it away, feeling 
uncomfortable once again, but it persisted as his eyes once more traveled 
over her full-blown body reflexively, covetously. 

Faith smiled secretly as she saw the desire building in his eyes. This was 
going to be easy, she told herself, even easier than she and Leland had 
anticipated. She studied Stan's muscular body, sneaking a look at the faint 
outline of his manhood beneath the trousers he wore, and she felt her pussy 
begin to moisten expectantly. Oh, I'll bet 'he has a fine big cock, she 
thought. I'll bet it's really very big, and I'm going to enjoy sucking it; 
sucking every last drop of his cum right out of it. Ohhh, but it will be 
good! It's always good, of course, but this is going to be something 
special, I can tell-I can always tell ... 

She watched Stan take a sip of the strong, very dry martini, then take 
another. She said, "Is it all right?" 

"Mmmmm, fine," he said, nodding, sipping again. He looked into her eyes, saw 
little glistening pools there, and he couldn't help but compare her to his 
wife, to Dawn. Oh no, she wouldn't be prudish in bed, of that he was 
certain. She would be hell on wheels, wild and abandoned, using every muscle 
and sinew in her body to please her partner ... a real woman, a sensual 
woman, the kind of woman he wished Dawn would become... 

Dawn, he had to stop thinking such thoughts! It sure as hell wasn't doing 
him any good. He cleared his throat. "Well, now," he said. "What was it you 
wanted to talk to me about?" 

"Actually," Faith said sultrily, "it's something I wanted to show you, 
Stan." 

"Show me?" 

"Yes. It's upstairs, in the bedroom." 

Stan was perplexed, and he finished the last of his martini. Bedroom? he 
thought. What could she possibly have to show him in the bedroom? 

Faith said, "Let me get you another drink before we go up?" 

Stan started to protest, but the double he had just consumed seemed somehow 
to have allayed his fears of moments earlier. Why not? he mused. He had a 
weakness for martinis, anyway. He proffered his glass, and Faith took it, 
poured him another and freshened her own. Then she walked slowly across the 
room, innerly secure at the knowledge that his eyes followed her undulating 
hips hungrily as she moved. She stopped at the doorway, looking back over 
her shoulder in a theatrical pose of sexuality that she had affected over 
the years. "Coming, Stan?" she asked. 

"Yes, ma'am," he said, following her as she started toward the staircase at 
the far end of the hallway outside. His voice felt strangely thick, and not 
the kind of thickness that came from imbibing too many martinis either. 

Following her up the stairs, Stan marveled at the tight elasticity of her 
buttocks beneath the bikini shorts, staring greedily at the firm white flesh 
which overflowed around the taut material; at the way the vertebrae rippled 
in her back as she moved, like a predatory cat; at the sharply defined 
crevice between her globular ass cheeks ... He took another quick sip of his 
second martini. Damn, but he was getting half a hard-on just watching her 
walk... 

At the head of the stairs, Faith turned toward a closed door part way along 
the railed landing. Once there, she looked back at Stan and said, "You wait 
out here for a minute, Stan, like a dear. I'll call you when I want you to 
come in." 

"But-" he began, but she had already opened the door and slipped inside, 
closing it behind her. 

Stan crossed to the closed door and stood looking at it, sipping again at 
his martini. His brain was becoming somewhat fuzzy from the strong gin now, 
although he took no notice of it. Wonder what it is she's got in there? he 
thought. Hell, the way she's acting it's almost as if she's trying to, well, 
seduce me ... But that's ridiculous! What would a woman like Faith 
Edge-water want with me? Oh sure, she's one of those sensual, full-blooded 
women who need a lot of loving to keep them happy, but LeLand looks as if he 
could handle her needs. Probably just my imagination; probably something 
very innocent in back of all this... 

"You can come in now, Stan," Faith called from behind the closed door. 

He shrugged, took one final sip from his martini, and stepped forward to 
open the door. He took a step into the brightly lit bedroom-the shades were 
opened wide, and the ceiling light as well as the two lamps on the tables on 
either side of the wide double bed were on-and then he froze immobile, his 
eyes bulging wide at the tremendously exciting spectacle which assailed his 
eyes. A gasp burst involuntarily from his throat. 

Faith Edgewater stood beside the bed, facing him, legs splayed wide 
apart-completely nude! 

And she was finger fucking herself! 

Her head and shoulders were pulled back, lifting her high startlingly white 
breasts like perfect twin globes of the finest sculpture, topped with wide 
brownish-pink areolae and jutting, hardened nipples of the most exquisite 
pink. The insides of her creamy white thighs were moist from the flowing 
juices of her passion-flowered vaginal orifice, and her hands were resting 
palm-down on her abdomen, thumb and forefinger of her left spreading open 
the soft glistening auburn-hair lined cunt lips to reveal the oscillating 
bud of her large, bright red clitoris. With the index finger of her right 
hand, she teased and manipulated the swollen knob with maddening dexterity, 
causing more rivulets of her passion juice to trail down her velvety thighs, 
teasing the moist pink slit with her other fingers as she continued to rub 
her clit. Her lips were parted wetly, and there was a look of lustful 
pleasure on her sheened face, framed in the sweeping fall of her long, rich 
auburn hair, strands of which curled around her neck and rested on the 
upturned globes of her alabaster-and-blue-veined tits. 

Stan swallowed once, twice, and through his widened eyes he saw her finger 
move faster and faster on her clitoris; she splayed her legs still wider, 
thrusting her pelvis upward as she did so to reveal more fully her actions 
to his disbelieving eyes. "My God!" he managed in a strangled gasp, and took 
a long drink from his glass reflexively, draining it. "Faith ... God, Faith 
what.. . ? " 

"Do you like what you see, Stan?" she asked in a crooning, sex-husky voice. 
"Do you like my body, Stan? Do you like to watch me play with myself, play 
with my cunt this way? It feels good, Stan honey ... it feels soo 
gooddddddd! 

Almost as good as it would feel if you were doing it...." 

In conscious-less response to the lewdness of her words, Stan felt his cock 
give a jerking twitch in his trousers and his balls begin to tingle with 
mounting excitation. Holy God! he thought. I've never seen anything like 
this in my life! She ... she must be some kind of nymphomaniac or something, 
doing a thing like this! Jesus, she wants me to lay her, that's obvious, 
that's why she got me over here today ... but why? Why me? She must have 
taken a liking to me for some reason, and she can't help herself ... But I 
can't let her do it, for the love of God! I'm a married man-with troubled 
waters in the marriage, yes, but nonetheless married ... I can't do anything 
with her, I can't, I can't! 

"You're getting a hard-on, aren't you, Stan?" Faith whispered as she 
continued to manipulate her pussy. "I can see that you are, I can see that 
big nice cock of yours bulging out the front of your pants there!" 

Christ! Stan thought, but she was right; he did have a hard-on-how could he 
help but have one with her standing there, naked and beautiful, a goddess in 
the flesh, masturbating lewdly the way she was? "Faith..." he began, and 
then paused, swallowing again. "Faith, for God's sake stop it, stop this!" 

"I don't want to stop," she told him, moistening her lips provocatively and 
her fingers went faster and faster. "It feels too good, Stan; my pussy feels 
too good when I play with it like this." 

Run! Stan's brain warned. Run, get out of here! Now, right now! Run before 
it's too late, and you can't control yourself any longer ... But he couldn't 
run, couldn't move; he was frozen there, watching her, the martinis he had 
just consumed adding fuel to the passion which her wanton actions had 
brought forth in his body, breaking down his inhibitions and his moral 
restraints and replacing them with fiery lust. I'm going to do it, he 
thought wonderingly in that moment. I'm going to be unfaithful to my wife 
... I'm standing here and I know what I'm about to do, and yet I don't care 
... strange, so strange, but goddamn it's her fault-Dawn's fault-if she was 
any kind of a wife, any kind of a sex partner, I wouldn't need to resort to 
infidelity ... but she isn't, and I'm starved for a woman like Faith, a wild 
and free-spirited woman, a woman who wants sex for the sake of sex, who'll 
stand before a man and masturbate to get him aroused... 

"You know what I want, don't you Stan honey?" Faith intoned, her hand 
seeming to Stan to be a blur at her pubic triangle now. "I can tell it on 
your face, in your eyes, that you know what I want. I want you, Stan; I want 
that cock of yours because I know it will be a nice big hard cock. I want to 
suck your cock, Stan. Stan, honey, I want to take your cock in my mouth and 
suck it and suck it and suck it until it's dry. Would you like that, Stan? 
Would you?" 

He couldn't control himself any longer. The last vestiges of his conscience, 
of his sanity, melted away in a blinding surge of desire-and he passed the 
point of no return. "Yes!" he heard himself scream out to her. "Yes, Faith, 
yes yes yes! I want you to suck my cock! I want nothing in the world more at 
this minute than to have you suck my cock until I cum in your mouth!" 

Faith laughed softly, deep in her throat, and her fingers ceased their wild 
plunging in her pinkly moist furrow. She stood now with her hands held out 
to him, a nude sex-sheened Venus waiting for her Jupiter to come to her, her 
lubrication still flowing down her inner legs, mouth half-parted and eyes 
hald-lidded in ultimate sensuality. "Then come here, lover," she whispered 
invitingly. "Come here and get naked. Let me see that big hard wonderful 
cock of yours, let me see how well hung you are, lover. Show it to me, show 
it to me." 

Mutely, blindly, with liquor fogging his brain to almost insensate 
proportions, Stan stepped forward to stand directly in front of her. Then 
his hands dipped to his belt and he began to take his clothes off, hurrying 
when Faith raised her hands to cup and knead her firm, full, hard-nippled 
tits teasingly, smiling hungrily at him all the while. He took off his 
trousers, his shirt, and stepped out of his underpants, breathing with 
ragged desire now. 

His thick, blood-enraged, purplish-veined prick stood out from his hirsute 
groin like some gigantic battle standard, immobile and yet vibrating as if 
with some inner power waiting to be unleashed. His balls hung heavy, far 
down between his thighs, and Faith stared with moist-lipped approval at the 
seminal fluid oozing in shiny droplets from the blind eye in the swollen 
glans of his member. 

"It's every bit like I thought it would be!" she breathed, her tongue 
flicking out like some lizard about to strike an unsuspecting insect. And 
then she reached out both hands and encircled his great weapon, squeezing it 
gently, rubbing her long sharp nails tantalizingly over the urethra tube and 
the slick head and the hairy base, holding it lovingly, as if it was a 
priceless object d'art in some wealthy museum. She made little crooning 
sounds of pleasure deep in her slim throat. 

The touch of her hands on his hot, feverish prick sent desire racing rampant 
through Stan's loins, into his belly, into his brain. Oh God, she knew how 
to fondle a man, how to get him so hot he thought he was going to blow his 
mind as well as his load! He was half-insane with lust for her.. . 

"You feel good, lover," Faith breathed, her breath hot and warm and sweet on 
his face. "Your cock feels so good in my hands. It's going to feel even 
better when I put it in my mouth, when I run my tongue over and around the 
head, when I take it all the way back into my throat, when I suck the cum 
right out of your balls..." 

A small, tortured cry burst from Stan's throat and he reached out and pulled 
her to him, planting moist hot kisses on her face and neck and throat while 
she continued to stroke his prick. Then she was guiding him down, down onto 
the softness of the bed, rolling him with a expertise born of years of 
practice onto his back, kneeling between his wide-splayed legs while she 
rubbed his cock with abandon between her soft, moist palms. She lowered her 
head, positioning it over his up-thrust cock between her hands, and then 
raised her eyes to look up at his contorted, flushed face. 

"I'm going to suck you now," she crooned. 

"Yes, yes, suck me now!" Stan moaned crazily. 

"Suck you until you cum." 

"Yesyesyessssss, suck me until I cum!" 

Faith smiled her secret smile, took one last look at Stan's flailing head, 
and then darted down like a striking bird of prey to flick her tongue 
teasingly around the seminally-lubricated glans of his lust-hardened rod, 
again and again, eliciting mewls of delight from Stan's throat. Then she 
dipped further down, took the head into the warm, soft cavern of her mouth. 

"Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!" he wailed at the salacious contact. 

Faith began to suck him in earnest, using every bit of knowledge she had 
acquired throughout her varied and considerable career... 

And hidden in the closet across the room, with an 8mm camera raised to a 
concealed peephole in the inlaid and ornate wood of the door, a naked Leland 
Edgewater watched with pride, arousal, and downright awe as his wife sucked 
his protege, Stan Ballard's large hardened cock. 

Damn, but she knew how to give a head job! he thought, holding the camera 
steady, recording the entire scene-complete with zoom lens close-ups-which 
he was watching being enacted in his bed. There was no woman he had ever met 
in this country or in France, where he had chanced upon Faith-who was able 
to suck cock like she could. Some women, he reflected, were born to raise 
children or become actresses or seek out business careers. But Faith was 
born to suck cock, no doubt about it. It was a pleasure to watch her work, 
watch the consummate skill with which her head and tongue and lips and hands 
all worked in unison on the cock of Stan Ballard. She was supposed to go 
easy. But even though, he couldn't last much longer, that was for sure; but 
it would be long enough, just long enough... 

And tomorrow, after the film was processed, it would be his, LeLand 
Edgewater's, turn at bat. He licked his lips anticipatorily as he thought of 
Dawn Ballard's firm, ripe young body, and how it would feel beneath his 
plunging penis. He even lowered one hand and began to lightly rub his 
hardened prick, feeling the heat build in his balls as he watched, and 
thought about what the future held in store for him... 

The camera continued to whir softly, almost inaudibly, in his sure, steady 
grip. 

 CHAPTER 3 

Stan's cock was almost as beautifully huge as LeLand's, thought Faith as she 
sucked joyously. LeLand had been so right-Stan had been easy to seduce, and 
his idea of her being the first, rather than him going after the woman right 
away as he usually did was marvelous! It gave her that much more time to 
travel the mysteries of this new male body, enjoy a different cock and 
balls, and excite in the new w inkles of old games. Yes, the Ballards had 
been an excellent choice, and Faith hoped that Dawn was as willing as Stan 
was proving to be. 

She felt an additional tingle of sexual thrill at the thought that she and 
Stan were being seen-no, more than being seen, actually being recorded for 
erotic posterity on film. There, behind that closet door with its inlaid 
peep-hole, was her husband, spying on them and using the 8mm movie camera, 
probably masturbating while running the camera. He was never one to hold in 
his passion.... 

The whole lewd idea sent shivers of pleasure through her body, for she loved 
to have her nakedness displayed and paraded before lust perverted voyeurs. 
How lucky she had been to find such an understanding and cooperative man as 
LeLand, and how fortunate that he loved her enough to take her from that 
house in LeHavre. For awhile there, she thought she'd never be able to get 
out of there and back to the States- 

She returned with gusto to the prick at hand, and renewed vigorously the 
task of making Stan spurt his thick cum into her waiting gullet. Her mind 
steamed with the credo of his magnificent sawings and she tasted his genital 
piquancy, the tang sending wild tremors of delight coursing through her 
loins. She ravished her flicking warm tongue all along its base and wide 
underside of the coronel ridge, sticky and protruding from his thick 
foreskin, and washed and played with it in ever increasing caresses. The 
crown of her head rested on his inner leg as she managed to slit and tease 
the tiny hole in his bloated glans with the tip of her tongue, and then she 
ran her lapping strokes down his purplish, wet shaft to the hirsute sac of 
his testicles, his soft pubic hairs tickling her chin and cheeks and lips as 
her saliva dribbled freely between the valley of his buttocks to the bed 
below. 

She removed his hardened cock for a moment, and blew on it tenderly. The 
cool rush of air made Stan moan with tingling agony, and then she wrapped 
her fingers around its girth and began to beat it up and down, up and down, 
harder and harder and faster and faster. All the while she gazed at its 
vibrating shanks, her lips pulled back in contorted frenzy. Then she 
couldn't stand it any longer, and she buried her face in his writhing groin, 
coating his balls with hungry sweeps of her tongue, her mouth bending to 
kiss as much of his salient flesh as possible. Stan groveled in the bed 
sheets, groaning over and over and raising his legs and opening them wider 
so as to let Faith have fuller access to his cock and testicles. She moved 
over him, kneeling nakedly between his open thighs and she continued to 
manipulate and tongue him, squeezing and jerking his throbbing penis with 
her tempestuous hand. He squirmed and arched his back, exposing the brown 
puckered ring of his anus to her... 

This had all been so new to Stan. She was actually seducing him! Wild ... 
completely, mind-blowingly wild! How long he had wanted the downy-soft 
kisses of a woman upon his erect cock, how long he had dreamed of being 
sucked to climax and shooting his hot, seething sperm into a female mouth 
... and here he was, doing just that with an absolutely ravishing female! If 
only Dawn had wanted to do this to him, and he in turn kissing her cunt ... 
Daivn, Dawn, her name revolved in his fevered brain, Dawn, I ivish this was 
you ... and how I ivish I could lick and tease your hot, young cunt ... 

His wife's name echoed and re-echoed through his brain, and a small section 
of it tried to feel shame and guilt, but he let the thoughts slip away ... 
the complete abandonment of this vamp's conquesting mouth overwhelmed him 
and successfully blotted out any reflections save the delicious debauchery 
of his turgid penis. 

Dawn's theory of modesty and proper love-making seemed like a doctrine of 
the Middle Ages, and he was only bothered by it for a split moment before 
the spasmodic rhythm of Faith's finely honed tongue played an overriding 
melody upon his swollen organ, and a moan began to build up in the deep 
recesses of his chest. 

Faith licked along the cord-like ridge between his widespread buttocks, 
circling with taunting accuracy around his sphincter-puckered anus, painting 
his skin with the saliva of love, and then she stiffened her tongue and 
darted it into the little opening of his bowels. She was wild with passion 
and sensations, her loins fermenting with the desire of his building cum. 
God! she couldn't wait to taste his semen hit the roof of her mouth! She had 
to suck him dry ... it was her release as well as his, and inside, her, her 
own erotic foamings were speeding to a break-neck orgasm ... Quickly she 
trailed her tongue over his sperm-churned scrotum and up along his purplish 
sheening shaft to the pulsating, blood-filled head. And then she slipped her 
mouth like a warm, wet glove down over it again, sucking and sucking and 
sucking... 

And suddenly Stan began to stiffen as though he had been hit by an epileptic 
fit. He cried out in a strangled voice, "AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!"I'm ... I'm ... 
I'm cum ... cum ... cummiiinnnggg!" 

Faith knew he was cumming on strong, and she began to twist and wrench 
herself with renewed frenzy, biting and nibbling his jerking cock as if it 
were the sole sustinance of life itself. She desperately swallowed the hot 
spurts of milky semen, her mouth salivating with enrapturement at the liquid 
male milk filling her cheeks. He rammed his penis yet deeper in her throat, 
his long and angry cock continuing to spill its vengeance of searing hot 
semen into her already sperm filled belly. She clasped her lips in a tight 
oval as she sucked and her Adam's apple bobbled in its fevered attempt to 
control the gushing stream. She twirled her tongue around the jumping prick 
so as to not lose one precious droplet, and she thought his balls were 
bottomless boilers of cum as the seemingly unending torrent kept on. His 
groans of pleasure incited her to greater effort, and then.... 

She too came! Cat-like, she mewled out her own release, still never 
forgetting her duties to his cock, but she wriggled her own squirming 
buttocks around and her hands clawed at the sheets of the bed as the wave of 
pillaging climax rolled through her. The juices of her milking cunt flowed 
and she arched her back, bucking wildly as the secretions ran down her legs 
in sticky warmth. She thrust her hungrily gulping mouth further upon his 
penis, absorbing the mammoth engorgement to its hilt as the last rain of 
molten lava valcanoed deep into her throat. 

Stan's cock began to deflate and she waited for a moment, praying for more, 
and then she lifted her head and his prick slid from her glistening lips 
with a wet sucking sound. She looked up, across his still heaving chest and 
smiled at Stan, a lewd trail of semen dribbling from her lips to the head of 
his now limp cock like some thick spider's web of passion. 

A long moment passed. Then Faith said in a quiet voice, "That was beautiful, 
Stan. It really was. I don't know when I've sucked a cock with more 
pleasure." 

"Yeah," he replied. He lay there, satiated, completely fulfilled. He knew 
that he should feel shame and remorse over what he had done-what he had 
allowed to be done-but he was still feeling the aftereffects of his orgasm, 
and the first stirring waves of self-deprecation had not started yet. He 
felt only like a man, a full-blooded, virile man who had been satisfied by a 
true, sensual woman. With Dawn, his wife, he had never really known that 
feeling, but had only known a vague sense of something the matter with his 
lovemaking, even though he realized that the fault lay with her, with her 
inability to respond to a man's sexual drives. 

But as he thought of Dawn and her inadequacies, he also started to think of 
how much he loved her, for in spite of her short-comings, she was still a 
good and sweet young woman, and his choice. Yes, his choice even over this 
wild and tempestuous tiger which lay next to him on her bed ... and the 
thoughts of his wife began to invade the satiation of his brain and the 
first vestiges of guilt seeped in. Later they would amplify, he knew, and 
consume him with self-loathing and self-disgust at his inability to control 
his carnal lust. 

Oh God, Dawn, what have I done? I love you, I don't want to hurt you ... but 
I have, and I know that I won't be able to keep my infidelity a secret from 
you for long....You'll know that I have been with another woman, even if you 
never suspect it was Faith Edgewater, and when you do, I won't blame you if 
you leave me ... God knows between last night and today, You'll have the 
grounds... 

"What are you so serious about, lover?" Faith asked, rolling over on her 
stomach and propping her chin up with her hand. 

"Nothing," he replied morosely. He couldn't meet her eyes. God, how can I 
face Dawn now ? She'll leave me ... leave me ... leave me ... The combined 
revulsion over his rape of his wife the night before, his subsequent act of 
adultery just now, his fear of discovery and his wife's loss of love and 
respect for him rose like a menacing thundercloud to blanket his mind with 
agony. He felt sick, closed in, trapped... 

"I bet you're thinking of Dawn," Faith said softly. 

"What of it?" 

"I don't think you should take our little dalliance so hard, that's all. We 
had fun, and that's what counts. I won't tell Dawn, if that's what you're 
worried about." 

Stan suddenly sat up and glared at Faith. "No, it's not. It's just that I 
should have never allowed this to happen in the first place." He jumped from 
the bed and began to put his clothes on hastily. "I'm going," he said 
tersely. 

"What? Oh no, honey, not now!" Faith frowned and wriggled with practiced 
eroticism on the covers. "C'mon back to me and let's play some more. Don't 
you want to fuck me?" 

"No!" 

Stan only wanted to get away ... to run and run and then crawl away and hide 
somewhere. To take a shower in disinfectant and cleanse the foul, rotten 
feeling which covered his skin ... to turn the clock back and control his 
sexual fire and delete his rampage in the bathroom or his visit to this den 
of iniquity today ... but it was too late ... everything was too late ... 
and he knew that in spite of his running, he'd have to pay eventually. 

"Please, lover..." Faith cried out after him as he started out of the 
bedroom. "I'm not finished...." 

"I am. For good," he snapped back. 

He raced down the stairs, and barely heard the angry, taunting words of the 
woman scorned upstairs. "Go on, go to your poor, innocent wife ... see if I 
care, you bastard! See if you ever get another chance at me...." 

* * * 

Leland Edgewater chuckled maliciously as he walked along Franklin Avenue 
from his cottage. He carried the metal tin carefully under his arm, being 
cautious that no damage came to it, and in his other hand he held the small 
movie projector. Everything had gone so well, he mused as he strolled along, 
even better than he had dreamed. Now for the final blow.... 

There was plenty of film to show. Faith had done her part well. But of 
course, she was inspired in her role; no question about that. She loved to 
suck cock, any cock, all cock ... and Stan's was no exception. It was 
recorded in beautiful living color; all the writhing, all the humping, all 
the zoom-lensed close-ups of the pole of Stan's penis invading the mouth of 
his wife ... just thinking of the scene in his mind made Edgewater's cock 
spring a bit, bulging out his tight slacks in the front. 

He chuckled again, his mind remembering the part he didn't film, when Stan 
had jumped up and left, obviously distraught with guilt and frustration. 
Christ, but Faith was mad! She was almost ready to blow the works right 
then, just to get even, and it had taken swift action to prevent her from 
doing something rash. Ah yes ... he had stepped from the confines of the 
closet, naked, his giant cock still erect from the overwhelming sensuality 
of watching her suck another man's sperm-bloated penis to climax, and she 
was soon accepting his cock in her cunt, heaving and panting with the 
thousand delights of a hundred explosions ... a perfect reward for his hours 
of patient waiting. She had been a demon, he thought, and once 
satisfied-right around dinner time-she had calmed down enough from Stain's 
rebuff to accept the reason why she had been so treated. She had smiled and 
nodded her head as Edgewater had explained that later she would be able to 
get all of Stan she wanted; maybe more, if Stan was hard to please. 

The long night of processing was over, and there had been the fine fuck at 
three a.m. this morning when he had awakened Faith to show her the finished 
print. Turned her on something fierce! There was the strange assuredness in 
Edgewater that it was going to wreak its same stimulating havoc upon young 
innocent Dawn Ballard in just a few minutes... 

At the street which ran parallel to the tennis court, only in the opposite 
direction, Edgewater turned left and followed the small lane down three 
houses to one which was very similar to his own. It was slightly smaller and 
Stan had not gotten around to painting it yet, but it was fairly well kept 
up and the yard showed consummate attention. Dawn, he knew from Stan's 
boasting, had a green thumb and the colorful flowers and shrubs were 
gardened and healthy. He knocked on the front door and it opened almost 
immediately. 

"Hello, Dawn," he said, "May I come in?" 

Dawn stood, wiping her hands on her apron, a mixture of confusion and 
annoyance traced across her features. She really didn't want to see 
Edge-water again, not after what had happened two nights ago. It had been 
those filthy objects of his which had set Stan off, she felt, that and the 
heavy drinking. Stan would never have been so violent, so much like a 
rutting moose, if he had not been aroused to such sexual desire by the 
pornography. 

She was mad and hurt and very, very upset. 

"I ... I...." she faltered, caught between her feelings and her inbred 
politeness. Egewater was, after all, still Stan's superior, and in spite of 
what had happened, she did not want to damage her husband's career. "I guess 
so, Dr. Edgewater." 

"Leland," he corrected, stepping inside. He looked around the nondescript 
hallway and living room, filled as they were with a clean but old melange of 
furniture. "A very pleasant place you have here," he said dutifully. 

"Thank you." Dawn then noticed the film case and projector he was carrying. 
"What can I do for you ... Leland?" she asked, shutting the door. 

"Mix me a drink," he replied with a smile. 

"A ... a drink?" 

"Yes, and I think you should have one yourself." 

"Oh no, I don't drink this early in the day, thank you, but I'll be glad to 
mix you one. What'll you have?" 

"Bourbon." He set the case and the projector down and then frowned. "I came 
here," he began, his voice taking on a peculiarly serious quality, "because 
I have some bad news to tell you." 

Dawn came out of the kitchen, drink in hand. "Oh?" 

"Yes." He frowned as though unsure of how to phrase a rather delicate point. 
"I ... I really don't know how to put this, I'm afraid. It's rather 
embarrassing." 

A cold wave of fright began to creep along Dawn's backbone. It was as she 
had a premonition of some disastrous happening ... in the back of her mind a 
small warning buzzer sounded and the pit of her stomach rolled with 
clamminess. 

Leland took the drink but did not sip it. He held it ready for the moment 
she would need it for strength. "Tell me," he said in a low tone, "Do you 
know where your husband is right now?" 

Dawn was taken aback momentarily. What a crazy question! Of course she knew! 
"He's in his office," she answered, "His next class isn't until two. You 
know that." 

"I know about his class schedule, but I don't think he's in his office, 
Dawn." He paused for effect. Then he said, "He's with my wife." 

"With Faith? Why would he be with her?" 

Leland coughed delicately. 

"Are you insinuating...! " Dawn's voice rose unsteadily as she tried to 
grasp control of what she was thinking. 

"I'm not insinuating anything, Dawn. I'm stating a fact. Faith is a woman 
who sometimes has ... trouble controlling herself. It's happened before, and 
I'm afraid it's happening again, right now this instance. She's a damned 
pretty woman, and well, she's had her way with men before." 

Dawn's mind was a swirl of confusion, and without noticing it, she took the 
drink from Edgewater and swallowed deeply. The bourbon coursed down her 
throat, and while it did nothing for her mind, it seemed to steady her 
nerves a bit. She drank again. What Edgewater was saying was impossible for 
her to accept. It was inconceivable that her Stan would ever submit to Faith 
Edgewater. No! It was absurd what he was telling her. She knew her husband; 
he was strictly a one-woman man... 

"I realize it's a shock, Dawn," Edgewater said in a consoling tone, "You're 
thinking that I'm either crazy or that there's something going on you can't 
imagine. Well, take my word for it. I'm far from being crazy." 

Dawn shook her head numbly. 

"Here. Drink some more, Dawn. It'll help." Edgewater pressed the glass into 
her hand and then stepped away. Perfect, perfect, he thought to himself. To 
Dawn, he said, "That's why I brought the projector along, Dawn, to prove it 
to you. I happen to have found a film in Faith's possessions accidentally 
last night, and I was shocked. Evidently there's more going on than just an 
affair." 

"You're not afraid of what you may find out, are you? You're not afraid that 
instead of proving me wrong, it will show me correct." 

"No, no I'm not!" 

"All right, then let me show the pictures. That will set the record 
straight." Edgewater smiled wisely and turned to the projector. "Let's see, 
if you'll pull the shades, I think that I can use the bare wall there to 
show the film." 

While he set up the equipment, Dawn stayed in the background, continually 
sipping on the bourbon she had poured for Edgewater. She finished the glass 
and walked into the kitchen, pouring another tumbler full of the bourbon. 
Perhaps Leland is tight He seems so sure ... Has Stan found another woman, 
found some slut who will do all those perverted acts he wanted me to do? And 
is that other woman his superior's wife? Oh my God! How sick and horrible 
this is! 

She moaned, and taking the bourbon bottle by the neck, she went back in the 
living room, just as Edgewater was threading the film through the sprockets 
of the projector. Stan has changed ... no doubt about that. His rape of me 
on the bathroom floor ... his spiteful, filthy words to me, the one person 
he said he loved ... yes, there had been some of the old Stan in the phone 
call yesterday, and his contriteness last night ... but it had ended 
bitterly. His nerves were on edge I thought then, as though he was deeply 
secret of his perverse affair with that bitch, that nymphomaniac! He had 
ended up calling me more names ... I was in tears ... and then he said he 
was sorry. Sorry, she thought bitterly as Edgewater turned off the lights, 
like hell he was sorry! Not if what is on the film is as Leland says! 

Edgewater flicked on the switch and against the coarse grained wall of 
plaster, the projector threw a square of eerie light. There was some 
flickerings, and then the first picture came on. It was blurred, out of 
focus, but then with a deft manipulation of the lense, Edgewater brought in 
the action to full clarity. 

Dawn had thought she was ready for it, but when she saw her husband and 
Faith Edgewater naked as new born children on the bed, her mind shattered. 
"Oh no ... no it can't be!" She moaned, her cries of anguish like a sound 
track to the film. "I don't believe it!" 

Edgewater remained with his shocked and indignant expression as he saw for 
the third time the scene of his wife sucking Stan Ballard's hardened cock. 
They were lying once again on the bed, their bodies embraced in the age-old 
custom of oral contact, both squirming and writhing as though demons 
possessed. Once more Stan's upraised penis bobbed wildly in and out of 
Faith's tender mouth. Inwardly Edgewater glowed with sadistic satisfaction, 
and he felt his cock harden in his pants. 

He brushed against the now sobbing Dawn, feeling her firm curves mold 
themselves to his body and he had a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to 
strip his clothes off and take the girl as she stood. But he knew enough 
about women, he knew her, to as certain that this was not the right moment. 
It would take more footage, more bourbon before the horrified and helpless 
shock in Dawn turned to anger and then thoughts of revenge. A scorned and 
wronged woman will do most anything against her mate and would abandon a 
lifetime of moral living to do it. He merely had to bide his time... 

She gasped again. "I don't believe it!" 

Edgewater folded his arms and smiled cynically. "It's all there, Dawn, for 
you to see. It's true, I'm afraid, just like I said it was." 

"They're sick! They're worse than beasts, doing that!" She tried to blank 
out the horrid movie, shutting her eyes from the ghastly flickering light, 
yet her mind's eye kept conjuring up the horrible lewdness of Stan having 
his penis sucked by Faith Edgewater. How could he do such a thing? She 
remembered the previous night again and his irritability, and she could 
certainly see why he was... 

Almost hypnotically Dawn once more viewed the fantastic sight on the 
make-shift screen. All she saw or cared about was the fellatio being 
performed on the bed, and she gaped with disbelief as her eyes absorbed the 
passionate writhing. Faith Edgewater was at a fever pitch, her mouth 
straining to swallow whole the rigid penis pumping between her ovaled lips, 
and as Dawn watched, Faith buried the cock in her cheeks until Stan's curly 
public hair hit her chin and only a small glistening bit of his fleshy rod 
was visible. 

Dawn took another long and deep swallow from the glass, and involuntarily 
her liquor relaxed torso began to yaw with Dawn's undulating oral 
gymnastics. "I can't stand it!" she groaned, "Please ... stop the film! I've 
seen enough!" Her words were a babble, a jumble of near incoherency, and 
Edgewater ignored her pleading request. He knew that she was ready to crack, 
and it was time to move in. Her mind was filled with wretchedness, and she 
was open for suggestive revenge. 

"No, let them go on, Dawn. I had to watch it, and I think you should, too. 
I'm as hurt and angry as you are, but we must be levelheaded about it." 

Dawn managed to stem the flooding tears which had begun to stream from her 
agonized eyes. Taking a deep breath to help regain her composure, she nodded 
in illogical agreement and then continued to witness the damning sight. 
Edgewater refilled her glass, saying, "Here, Dawn, drink this. It'll help." 

She did, willingly, downing the entire glass in three quick swallows. He 
poured her another and she sipped this time, barely noticing the burning of 
the alcohol in her stomach. Thank God for the bourbon, she thought fuzzily 
as Edgewater placed the bottle on a table, If I hadn't had something deaden 
me, I would have gone to pieces, I know... 

"What are we going to do about them, Dawn?" he asked. Edgewater's voice was 
cool and collected, with a hint of malice. 

The real, inner emotion of elation was well covered. 

"Oh God, I don't know," she wailed. She dropped her head into her hands and 
sobbed like a small child. "I ... never thought Stan could do such a thing!" 

"Your husband is quite a lover," Edgewater added caustically. "You can 
imagine how I felt when I saw that it was my wife who was doing that to 
him." 

"Kissing people ... there ... is sick!" Dawn cried, cringing. 

Edgewater smiled at Dawn's reluctance to use real words for what she saw. 
How surprised she was going to be when she too would soon say them ... would 
beg him to lick her young tender pussy while she sucked at his throbbing 
cock... 

Dawn, mesmerized by the rolling film, tried to sort out her thoughts. Up 
until that night with the Edgewaters, Stan had always seemed happy with 
their lovemaking, although she had to admit she was beginning to doubt some 
of her moral precepts in the past two days. But did it take such perversions 
to keep a man? No ... it couldn't ... it just couldn't! Yet maybe ... for 
the first time since she was old enough to question things, Dawn began to 
actually consider her values, wondering if she didn't know what it took to 
satisfy a man. At the same time she had no idea what to do about the rape 
she had been submitted to, or how it connected with the flagrante delicto 
scene of Stan being kissed on the penis by Edgewater's beautiful and 
sluttish wife. She loved Stan, in spite of what had been happening, and her 
heart ached for some way to repair the damage to the marriage which he had 
wrought. Then, still, there was the growing anger; the pride, moral 
righteousness and integrity which made her seethe inwardly at his scandalous 
actions. Did she want a divorce? Could she ever forgive and accept him back 
after this? Oh God, God! Dawn slumped, her mind still mesmerized by the 
twisting and turning figures in the obscene movie, her head whirling 
confusedly and drunkenly now. 

Edgewater spoke soothingly to Dawn as she continued to watch, building the 
gap between him and the girl. "Look at the way her mouth slides up and down 
on him, Dawn. Exciting, isn't it? I mean, in spite of knowing that it's your 
husband up there, you have to admit that seeing him being sucked by another 
woman, my wife, is erotic..." 

He moved behind her as she stood there swaying drunkenly, his pelvis sliding 
along her buttocks and he gripped her shoulders tightly. In her ear he 
whispered, "It makes you aroused, Dawn ... very aroused..." 

"Noooo," she moaned, and she tried to jerk away, but his hold was strong. 
What was the matter with him? Was he sick? It was almost as if he was 
reveling in this perversion before their eyes ... as if he had known all 
along and enjoyed seeing it.. . 

"She's enjoying his penis, Dawn ... she thinks it's almost as good and tasty 
as mine. Isn't that nice?" 

"No, it's terrible! It's evil!" she flung at him, struggling to break free. 
She felt her anger double and triple and finally unleash in unreasoning 
fury. She suddenly wanted to hurt Stan, to do something to him to repay him 
for all the agony he had forced upon her ... for the rape, for the cruel 
words, for the adulterous tryst happening right before her eyes. Reprisal 
... reprisal! But that was unthinkable, because the only kind of retribution 
which this untenable situation warranted was the same thing-or at least, the 
same type of thing-that Stan was doing. In plain terms, it meant making love 
with another man, and she simply couldn't do that. 

Or-could she? 

No! That's the bourbon in my system! It's my shame and hurt. I really 
shouldn't have had all that liquor ... Oh God, I don't know what to do! I 
don't know how to cope with this awful situation! 

Who would have dreamed I should ever have had to? 

She twisted and jerked some more in the professor's grasp, but his fingers 
were like steel talons. She was breathing hard, her eyes locked tightly on 
the lewdly undulating loins of her husband as Faith slavered above him, 
running her mouth up and down the gluttonous cock. There was the same 
contorted features on her as there was on him, Dawn thought maddeningly. 

"Watch them, Dawn," Edgewater kept repeating, "Watch them ... watch them..." 

His salacious words brought gasps from Dawn, but then she found that in 
spite of her morals and agony, she was actually beginning to get a small, 
illogical tingle from the corrupting celluloid. She watched, watched with 
ever widening eyes, and little by little her struggles lessened as the hot 
temper of moments previous abated. Edgewater continued to whisper more 
obscene remarks in her ears and his hand began to move around her dress, 
around and then under the hem. He was telling her again and again how 
exciting it was to see the perverted lovers how they gave vent to rising 
passions... 

And slowly, hardly perceptible at first, and certainly against her will, 
Dawn began to respond. 

She could feel her nipples begin to harden in her bra and she could sense 
her vaginal lubricants begin to flow as they did during foreplay. She tried 
to will the unwanted desires away, to turn her eyes away from the obscene, 
but slut-inciting movie, but she could do neither and the passion grew 
inside her, insinuatingly, then more rapidly, until it finally consumed her 
fragile body in an inferno of delicious sensations. 

Edgewater sensed her responsiveness, and glowed with triumph, for his plan 
was working better than he had hoped. She was going to produce, he could 
tell that, and he had been right about the hidden depths of Dawn Ballard, 
and after so long at looking at her and wanting her for so long , she was at 
last going to succumb! He renewed his lecherous intonations, and his hand 
moved up to cup one of Dawn's full, gently throbbing breasts, lightly 
kneading it. Christ! they weren't as big as Faith's, but they were damned 
nice! She wasn't fighting him, either ... she was watching the movie of 
Faith sucking Stan off ... weaving a bit from the effects of the bourbon ... 
he pressed his cock against her buttocks, rubbing the erect and hardened 
bulge into the soft, yielding crevice of her ass cheeks. 

"Your husband and my wife, Dawn," he breathed in her ear. "I want to pay 
them back, Dawn, don't you? Why shouldn't you and I show them that two 
others ean play their game ... Dawn, I want to fuck you, right now, while 
we're watching Stan and Faith. I want to fuck you..." 

Dawn's mind was a seething mass of turmoil, fomented from the large 
consumption of bourbon, antagonized by her ever rising anger toward her 
husband, and almost irrational from the flooding tide of passion. She felt 
his penis and his hand and knew she could step away if she wanted to, and 
that she could stop him if her desire was great enough ... but she didn't 
want him to stop. She wanted him to... 

She wanted him to make love to her! 

Yes, yes, even his foul word for love-making didn't turn her away, not now, 
not with all the sudden and overwhelming realization of her most inner 
desires! Yes, she wanted to punish Stan and what better way than to make 
love to the harlot's husband who was, after all, as hurt as she? That's what 
mattered ... and the release of the prurient passions which were raging 
uncontrollably through her body now ... fired by the fuel of alcohol and 
fanned by the winds of lust.. . 

"Dawn," Edgewater murmured, "On the couch, Dawn..." 

"Yes," Dawn heard herself reply, "The couch....." 

Edgewater squeezed her breast. "We'll watch from there, Dawn, and I will 
make love to you..." 

"Yes ... yes ... yes!" she groaned half consciously, her body and mind 
responding in spite of her revulsion to the lewd scene on the wall. 

He slowly led her to the broad, three cushioned couch which was, positioned 
perfectly for good viewing. She sat down, her head bowed, past all caring 
now, wanting only the double agonies of her mind's revenge and her Flesh's 
uncontrollable yearnings to be satisfied. She lay back, stretching her legs 
along the cushions fully, her eyes turning to see once more the hideous 
sucklings which had prompted this revolutionary realignment of her morals. 
Edgewater leaned over and drew her apron off, then took the thin house-dress 
and slid it up, up over her thighs and abdomen and he bunched it in a roll 
at her waist. He gazed lewdly at the magnificent hips and the white triangle 
of silk, and he could barely contain his own lustfulness. He was going to 
have to get into her quickly ... before he burst his balls ... and before 
she woke up to the fact she was fucking another man... 

Dawn felt his fingers tease along the silk material, his nails guiding along 
the elastic waistband and then down to her moistened loins. Then he tugged 
at the panties and she unconsciously arched her buttocks, allowing him to 
pull them down. She took her eyes from the movie for a quick glance at the 
panties as they were rolled down her trim legs and off her feet. She was now 
naked, she realized with a sudden jolt, nude to the lascivious leer of 
Stan's superior, and she didn't care ... she was lost in total abandonment 
and surrender. 

Then Edgewater rose from his leaning position and threw the panties 
callously aside. His hands dipped to his belt, and Dawn locked her eyes 
helplessly upon the tent of his groin. The zipper snaked down ... he let his 
pants fall, stepping out of them with one graceful motion. He stood proudly 
in his white cotton Jockey shorts for a moment, rubbing his inner thighs, 
and a tantalizing shock of mindless, intoxicated expectancy rippled through 
Dawn. Then he slowly slid his shorts down, over his erect cock, and then all 
the way off, letting them lay where they fell. 

God! It was so big! Dawn licked her dry lips with a mixture of fear and 
excitement. Can I take it without it hurting me? 

Edgewater moved closer to her in nothing but his shirt and socks, having 
slipped off his loafers with his pants. He worked the blood-engorged knob of 
his long, extremely thick purplish veined penis up and down in front of 
Dawn's widening eyes. "I'm going to put this in you now, baby," he 
whispered, "All the way up to your tits. You want that, don't you? 

Dawn could not answer at once. Her mind was like a merry-go-round gone mad 
as she reached up for him. He's going to ... to ... FUCK me! her brain 
screamed, Yes, that's the word, the only word ... FUCK! I vowed no man other 
than my husband would ever touch my body ... but my husband has been 
unfaithful to me ... and now I am going to return the favor ... I'm better 
than Faith, than a common prostitute, but it doesn't seem to matter any more 
... nothing matters anymore... 

Edgewater moved on top of her, careful not to block her view of the film, 
and he reached down between their bodies to grasp his throbbing, pulsating 
shaft and work it up and down her now wet, now accepting vaginal valley. He 
parted the sparse blonde pubic hair between her widespread legs and felt the 
clitoris, hard and quivering, and then the pink canal of her vulva and then 
the warm, and dilated hole to her tight, sweet cunt. As he paused for his 
lunge home, his final touch to his plan of seduction, Dawn cried beneath 
him. 

"Yes, Leland," she answered at last in a slurred shout, "I want you! I want 
you to fuck meeeeee!" 

 CHAPTER 4 

Edgewater needed no further urging than young Dawn Ballard's mesmeric cry of 
total surrender, and he levered forward harshly, a moan of victory on his 
saliva-wet lips. The long, hard, throbbing weapon of his manhood surged like 
a great dynamo along the waiting moist tunnel of her cunt, rippling before 
it the sensitive, velvet-soft walls as it lurched deep, deep into her soft, 
quivering belly. The bloated head struck her cervix savagely, while at the 
same time his heavy, sperm-weighted balls thudded into the dampened crevice 
of her wide-split buttocks below. 

AndDawnscreamed,"UUUUUHHHHHHHHH!" 

Her elastic vaginal sheath molded wetly, hotly, to his invading penis, 
consuming it like a sucking mouth before he withdrew to plunge again-and 
again and again. His breath was hot and smelled of mouthwash and bourbon 
against her face, and he was squeezing her tits through the material of her 
bunched dress, kissing her face and eyes as he flexed his hips to drive his 
huge and thundering cock to the deepest recesses of her womb. 

Oh God! Dawn thought. He's so big, so terribly big! He's going to split me 
wide open! He's going to kill me with his huge penis! Ohhhhhhhhh, it hurts, 
it hurts! 

"Leland, stop, please please stop!" she wailed, flailing her head from side 
to side beneath his moist, fiery kisses. 

"Don't you like ... my cock inside you, baby? Doesn't it feel good when I do 
... THIS!" 

With that, he drew his hips back and then thrust his mighty stallion-sized 
rod forward again, burying it to the hilt in her widely expanded pussy, 
battering the head of her tender cervix as if trying to demoniacally destroy 
the sensitive aperture. 

"Eeeeeeeeaaaaarrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh!" howled Dawn in tormented agony, 
jackknifing her legs up from the couch and circling his sweating middle with 
her thighs in a hopeless defensive reflexive action. But the involuntary 
movement only served to flower wider her wetly filled cunt, and Edge-water 
thrust brutally again, fucking into her with renewed vigor now, interpreting 
her actions as even more capitulation to his subjugation. 

Dawn's brain was a whirling mass of pain and increasing fear at what she was 
allowing to be done to her defenseless genitalia by this relative stranger. 
Harlot, slut, whore, gutter tramp ... the words churned like hot punitive 
needles through the bourbon-haze...I deserve this, I deserve this horrible 
assault on my body for having given in just because Stan was so weak, so 
carnal, to have another woman. Yes, I must take this pain, for it is my 
punishment, my punishment ... 

And then, suddenly, the pain was gone! It was gone, even through Edgewater 
was still burrowing with hard, sawing strokes into her vagina, and for a 
moment she felt nothing at all. Then, slowly, increasingly, little spasmodic 
jolts of pleasure filled her cunt as his penis was filling it ... and soon 
the little jolts became bigger ones, became wild and wanton waves of desire, 
undeniable wondrous pleasure consuming her body. Her hips began an 
undulating rhythm on the cushions of the couch, slowly at first and then 
faster and faster. Her head turned as if with a will of its own, her mouth 
seeking his, finding it, opening under it, her tongue slipping inside to 
fuse with his tongue as they exchanged love-saliva... 

Nooooooo! a diminishing warning bell tolled in her mind. No, you can't feel 
pleasure, you can't, no this is vile, evil ... 

But there was no denying it; no denying the prurient sensations which now 
controlled her body, sensations she had never before felt even with Stan. 
New and frightening, these ripples of passion, coming from some deep and 
heretofore buried recess of her soul, her being. They had been unleashed by 
the sight of her husband having fellatio performed on him by the wife of the 
man who now fucked like a crazed animal inside her, unleashed by the 
perverse submittal to Leland 

Edgewater in her anger and alcoholic haze. 

Dawn tried to dwell her mind on the shame and guilt she had felt an instant 
earlier, tried to tell herself that this delight which was flowing through 
her was a product of her whoredom, but with a part of her mind she knew that 
that was not true. No, something base and integral in her makeup had been 
awakened, brought to the surface ... The degradation of the act of which she 
was now a part paled, then, into complete insignificance; gone was the shame 
and the guilt and the fear and the self-loathing and the anger, for none of 
those things seemed to matter anymore. Nothing seemed to matter any more but 
the intense fires which LeLand Edgewater's pistoning cock had touched off in 
her young pussy and belly. She was aroused, for the first time in her life 
really and truly and wildly and insanely aroused, and it was good, good, 
good! 

Dawn's hips swirled and ground down into the squeaking couch in ever 
increasing abandonment now, attuning themselves to the long, hard strokes 
being levered into her cuntal passage by Edge-water's buttocks. She sucked 
on his tongue wildly, mindlessly, tasting it sweet and hot against her own, 
and her hands clawed his back ceaselessly. Her legs were now raised high 
with the thighs locked tight against his sides, her heels pounding harshly 
off his upraised, driving ass cheeks as he sawed into her. She pulled her 
mouth away momentarily. 

"Yes, yes, Leland!" she heard herself moan. "That's it, that's it! Ohhh, 
it's good, yes it's good, Leland! Give it me, harder, harder ... ohhhhhhh!" 

"Tell me what you want, Dawn. Say it, say the word, Dawn." 

"Fuck me!" she cried immediately. "Oh God, yes, Leland, fuck me hard, fuck 
me hard, harrrdddddddd!" 

"I'm going to ... fuck you like you've never ... been fucked before, Dawn. 
I'm going to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you..." 

"Yes! Oh yes fuck me ... uuuuuuuggggghhhhhh!" 

Holy Christ, this is something else! thought Edgewater as he hammered his 
cock with merciless force into her now hungrily sucking cunt. I knew that 
when she finally broke free of her ethical and moral chains that she ivould 
be quite a passionate woman, but I didn't expect it to be this good! Her 
cunt is like soft, hot honey around my cock, and when she moves that sweet 
little ass of hers with her legs wrapped around me she's almost as good as 
Faith-and that's some compliment, especially since she's only just begun ... 
Christ, Vm going to blow my wad in a minute, I can feel the cum building in 
my balls... 

In the throes of her still-building passion, Dawn became aware of a steady 
humming sound and realized that it was the movie projector running. Was the 
movie still running? she wondered dimly, and she turned her head and 
fluttered her eyes open. 

Yes, it was still running and what she saw on the makeshift wall screen made 
her churn her buttocks with even more abandoned frenzy, causing a low moan 
of delight to burst from Edgewater's throat. Her heels beat an incessant 
tattoo on the white, hairy globes of his ass, and he reached beneath her 
upturned cheeks to knead the wet, pliant flesh, stretching her crotch still 
wider as he fucked her with furious stroking now. 

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!" cried Dawn in lustful delight, both from the flickering 
movie images and 

Edgewater's bludgeoning prick. 

On the wall, Faith Edgewater's talented lips were a blur around Stan's 
bloated cock and Dawn knew, instinctively, that her husband was about to 
cum. Suddenly, as she watched , she saw him lever up insanely saw Faith 
begin to swallow to keep from choking as Stan ejaculated his semen into her 
mouth in a bottomless torrent that soon dribbled down over Faith's chin as 
her head bobbed dervish-like over his cock. She's going to choke on all that 
seed, it's going to drown her, strangle her ... Dawn thought vaguely, but 
Faith she saw was equal to the task of Stan's releasing orgasm, her cheeks 
hollowing, bloating, hollowing, bloating as the cavern of her mouth filled 
and emptied time and again with Dawn's husband's semen. She-likes it, 
she-likes the taste of Stan's cum, she's drinking it as if it was some 
inexplicably delicious ambrosia ... Can a man's seed taste that good? Can 
that be the reason why some woman enjoy performing such an act?... 

But she had no more time to dwell on such thoughts, or to dwell on the 
actions taking place on the dancing wall screen, for strange spiraling 
sensations were beginning to seize control of her now. She felt as if she 
was ascending to some great height, nearing the crest, and that when she 
reached it she would feel wonderment like no other in her life. 

"I'm going to have an orgasm," she said aloud in moaning, ragged breaths. 
"I'm going to climax, really climax for the first time, oh God Leland, I'm 
going to cum, I'm going to cum, Leland I'm going to cummmmmmmm!" 

Her words were the final release to Edgewater's own impending release, and 
he bucked and twisted into her, their bodies revolving with maniacal frenzy 
on the couch. And then he felt his balls slam against her moist furrow on 
the downstroke, felt them contract and then erupt, and the first hot, 
molten-hot, flash of cum shot through the glans eye of his cock like 
pressurized water through a fire hose. 

"OOOOoooohhhhhaaaaahhhhhhh!" he screamed, squeezing her buttocks together 
convulsively, painfully, as he jetted forth gusher after gusher of his 
sticky white cum into her pussy, filling it to the brim, cumming and cumming 
and cumming.. . 

Dawn felt the hot, spurting liquid lash against her womb, and in that moment 
she reached the pinnacle-reached it and knew the rapture that she 
anticipated would be there. 

"Yessssssssss!" she howled, beating her fists on his back as she was beating 
her heels on his twitching buttocks. "I'm there, I'm there, I'm 
thereeeeeee...! " The rest of her words trailed off as great pinwheeling 
lights, beautiful multicolored lights, exploded in back of her eyes and she 
began to drift on a great wave of delight, bobbing gently, floating, 
drifting ... Incomprehensible mewls fluttered from her throat, and guttural 
ones burst from Edgewater's as the two of them came together, came together. 
... 

Dawn was almost comatose when at last it was over, and she only vaguely felt 
Edgewater's now flaccid cock slip from her wet slippery vagina with a soft, 
final sucking sound, trailing their commingled juices in long silvery 
strands which pooled eventually on the already dampened couch beneath her 
still-splayed legs and still-trembling buttocks. She only dimly heard his 
soft, almost reverent words, "God, that was ... the finest fuck I've ever 
had! Dawn, do you hear me? You've just given me the finest fuck of my life!" 

She didn't realize it, but she smiled at his compliment just before she 
drifted off to a deep, dreamless sleep... 

* * * 

Leland Edgewater was gone when Dawn awoke. 

She came awake with a fuzzy, disjointed feeling in her mind, and a dry 
cottony taste in her mouth. Her temples seemed to throb with a rhythmic 
intensity. She looked down at herself when she had her eyes open, saw that 
she was covered by the quilt which she normally kept at the foot of hers and 
Stan's bed. Must have fallen asleep, taken a little afternoon nap ... she 
thought dreamily. 

And then she moved, as if to stretch, and a dull aching pain made itself 
apparent down between her thighs, a soreness that was not altogether 
unpleasant-and it all came rushing back to her: Leland Edgewater's arrival, 
his accusations, the movies, the liquor, her complete submission to him, her 
wanton actions, her orgasm... 

"Oh God, oh dear god!" she moaned aloud, and threw one arm up to cover her 
eyes, as if that gesture would somehow blot out the images which had burst 
all at once back into her brain. Oh God, dear God, she thought tormentedly, 
what's happened to me, what have I become? I enjoyed being with another man 
today, I actually reveled in his ... his penis ripping into me, I actually 
achieved an orgasmmy first full and complete-orgasm with another man's organ 
draining his sperm inside me ... And I reveled in the sight of my husband, 
Stan, having his member sucked by Faith Edgewater, reveled in the way she 
swallowed his seed ... Ohhh, I must be sick, I must be mentally debilitated 
in some way, to have succumbed to such perversions, such desires. How, in my 
most nightmarish imagination, could I have ever conceived of begging a man 
to ... to fuck me-that filthy word!-and then delight abandonedly in the 
ensuing act ... 

Dawn moaned again, wretchedly. What should she do? Where should she go? She 
felt alone, dirty, with no one to help her, no one to offer her solace or 
explanation. She couldn't go to Stan, surely not to her husband after what 
he had done with Faith Edgewater ... no, he too had become involved in 
debauched acts of the flesh, just as she; he too had forsaken his marital 
vows of fidelity, and it didn't matter that he had been the first to topple 
for she was as guilty as he was ... Anger and liquor were no excuse for 
extramarital sex, no excuse at all... 

Perhaps I could live with it, she thought, if I hadn't enjoyed it so much, 
if I hadn't had such a pleasurable climax, if I hadn't been filled with such 
delicious, salacious sensations... 

Dawn turned her head slightly, looking toward the window nearest the couch. 
She saw that the shade had been pulled up once more-Leland, before he had 
gone?-and realized for the first time that the movie projector was no longer 
present. Then her eyes focused on the window, saw the later afternoon 
sunlight filtering pale through. Must be almost five, she thought dimly, and 
then her mind was filled with sudden horror. Almost five! Stan would be 
coming home any minute! He couldn't find her like this, her hair all 
disheveled, her cum and the cum of Leland Edgewater staining her thighs and 
the couch upon which she lay... 

Abruptly, Dawn threw off the quilt and got to her feet. Her housedress was 
rumpled and she thought she could detect faint semen stains near its hem. 
She smoothed it down with her hands, and then ran into the kitchen and took 
the dish sponge into the living room again. She scrubbed at the dried love 
juices on the couch, managing to remove most of them. She was just folding 
the quilt when the front door opened and Stan came inside. 

"Hi, honey," he said when he saw her. "I'm home." He started across to where 
she stood immobile, holding the quilt and staring wide-eyed at him. "What's 
for dinner?" 

Suddenly, panic seized control of Dawn's mind. She couldn't simply stand 
here and greet her husband as if nothing had happened, as if both were 
completely faithful to the other, as if she hadn't just finished making love 
to Leland Edgewater and his semen wasn't still coagulating in her vagina ... 
She couldn't face him, couldn't talk to him, couldn't pretend; she just 
couldn't! 

With a small cry of despair, Dawn dropped the quilt and fled into their 
bedroom, hot stinging tears washing down in a flood from her shame-ridden 
eyes. She flung herself onto the bed, burying her face in the spread-covered 
pillow and crying out her degradation and tortured anguish unabashedly. 

Stan came into the room hesitantly, a perplexed and concerned frown 
corrugating his forehead, and sat on the bed beside his lovely sobbing wife. 
"Dawn," he said softly, "honey, what is it? What's the matter?" 

"Go away!" she moaned. "Go away!" 

"Honey..." 

"Damn you, damn you, leave me alone!" "Dawn, baby, what's troubling you? Are 
you sick?" 

She sobbed into the pillow, not answering him for a moment; but when he 
reached out and put his hand on her shoulder in a comforting way, repeating 
his question, she pivoted around on the bed, pulling away from him as if he 
was some foul purveyor of execrable disease. "Yes!" she shouted at him, 
feeling some of the anger-the blind, unreasoning anger-that she had felt 
upon first learning for certain of his actions with Faith Edge-water, return 
to her now that Stan was home. "Yes, I'm sick! I'm sick to my stomach 
because I found out what your are, Stan Ballard! I found out what kind of 
filthy carnal beast you are, and how much you think of me! Yes, I'm sick, as 
sick as any woman who discovers her husband has been ... has been having an 
affair with some big-breasted slut!" 

The words came rushing out of her in a torrent, and she couldn't have 
stopped the verbal assault until its surcease if she had wanted to-and she 
didn't at that moment want to. She wanted to see Stan's expression, hear his 
explanations, when she confronted him with his adulterous action; there was 
a perverse need inside her to hurt him, to watch him wither under her 
charges. 

She wasn't disappointed. Stan turned a milky shade of white and his eyes 
seemed to glaze over; sweat popped out in little glistening pustules on his 
forehead, and a shiver passed through him as if he had had a sudden chill. 
"Oh God, Dawn!" he whispered softly. He felt a sick, empty feeling in the 
pit of his stomach. "God, how ... how did you find out the terrible thing 
I've done?" 

"What difference does it make?" she flung at him, and the anger grew inside 
her by leaps and bounds. Hurt him; yes, she had to hurt him, hurt him for 
what he had done to their marriage, for what he had made her do with Leland 
Edgewater, inexcusable though her actions may have been..."You let her put 
her mouth on your ... your penis, didn't you, Stan? You let Faith Edgewater 
perform that sick, perverted, disgusting ritual on you and you were reveling 
in it. You liked it, didn't you, Stan? You liked being unfaithful to me; you 
liked it the whole time you were fouling our supposedly sacred union!" 

Stan gazed at her with the miserable eyes of a beaten and soul-sick puppy. 
"Dawn, my darling, can ... can you ever forgive me for what I've done? The 
guilt has been tearing me apart since ... it happened, and I've wanted to 
tell you a dozen times. But I ... I just couldn't bring myself to do it." He 
took a long, tremulous breath, continued: "Dawn, I know there's no excuse 
but I ... well, I just couldn't help myself. She seduced me, Dawn. She's a 
voluptuous, sensual woman and she knows the weaknesses of men, knows how to 
throw them off guard, turn them into carnal entities with no other thoughts 
but those of animal desires..." 

"I don't want to hear about it!" Dawn cried, the tears falling once more 
from her eyes. "I watched you doing it and I don't want to hear about it, 
too!" 

There was a sudden, pregnant silence and Stan stared at his wife 
open-mouthed. "What?" he said at length. "What did you say?" 

Dawn suddenly realized the slip she had made. She blanched as Stan had, 
averting her eyes. "I ... I..." she stumbled in a softened voice. 

"Dawn, answer me!" snapped Stan. "What did you mean, you saw me doing it 
with Faith Edge-water? How could you have seen me? But you must have, or 
else how could you know I had been unfaithful, how could you know it was 
with Faith?" He leaned forward to grab her shoulders. 

"Dawn, how did you know?" 

"I ... saw a movie!" she cried suddenly, pulling away from him agin. "A 
movie of you and Faith!" 

"A movie?" he repeated uncomprehendingly. 

"Yes!" And before she could stop them, more words were spilling from her 
lips; words which, ambivalently, she wanted to say and didn't want to say; 
words to hurt and sting, and yet of such magnitude that their impact 
transcended mere simple pain. "Leland Edgewater came over this afternoon, 
and he had a movie of you and ... and Faith together. I watched it; he shone 
it on the wall, and I watched it and the whole time I was watching it I kept 
drinking bourbon. I drank until I was too drunk to care anymore, just 
watching that ... sickness, that foul perverted bestial sickness on the 
wall; and when that happened, and LeLand suggested he and I make love to pay 
you and Faith back, and I said yes. Do you hear me, Stan. I said yes!" 

"You ... you had sex with Leland Edgewater?" Stan asked, staggering backward 
as if struck by some mailed fist. There was a look of incredulous horror on 
his white face. 

"Yes, right out in the living room, right on our couch! I let him have me 
right there ... I let him put his huge penis inside me and cum inside me 
while I watched you have your orgasm in Faith's mouth. And I had an orgasm, 
too, Stan! I had my first real orgasm, and it was with another man's organ 
buried inside me!" 

"I don't believe it! I can't believe it!" 

"Well, it's true! All of it, Stan; it's all true!" Dawn turned and flung 
herself face down again, and began to cry in great convulsive sobs that 
wracked her entire body piteously. The anger had completely dissipated 
inside her now, as if the storm fury of her lashing words, her confession, 
had purged her of all emotional energies. She was nothing but a little girl 
now, a hurt and confused and frightened little girl... 

A myriad number of things coursed kaleidoscopically through Stan's brain in 
those few seconds. He wanted to scream at Dawn, call her every filthy name 
he could think of; he wanted to hurt her, physically hurt her and yes, hurt 
Leland Edgewater too; kill the son of a bitch, cut that fucking cock of his 
off with a butcher knife and watch him bleed to death. And yet, he knew deep 
inside him that Dawn wasn't to blame, that she too was entitled to one 
transgression just as he was; he could understand her hurt upon witnessing 
him in the throes of passion with Faith's hungry mouth on his penis, could 
understand her giving in a bastard like Edgewater under such 
circumstances... 

He suddenly felt an overpowering tenderness toward his beautiful young wife, 
a consuming and protective kind of love that transcended any singular 
mistake they both might have made. Yes, he loved her ... in spite of his 
lewd rape of her on the bathroom floor and the harsh words he had said to 
her then, in spite of his weak submittal to the luscious charms of the vamp 
Faith Edgewater, in spite of her angered, intoxicated submittal to Le-Land 
Edgewater after learning of his, Stan's failing, after actually seeing 
Faith's hot, soft lips sucking his prick ... That was in the past now, all 
in the past, and it didn't matter, couldn't matter to their abiding 
relationship. 

He lay down beside his wife on the bed, turning her gently to face him and 
then taking her into his arms. She didn't resist; she was as limp and 
yielding as a rag doll. He held her tight, kissing her hair, kissing the 
tears from her eyes and cheeks, and she whimpered softly, pressing tight 
against him as if seeking to blend her body with his. 

"Shh, honey," he whispered. "It's all right now. Everything's going to be 
all right now." 

"Is it, Stan?" she sobbed. "Is it all right? We ... we've both done such 
terrible things; will we be able to keep from doing them again in the 
future?" 

"Of course, baby," Stan said softly. 

"Ohhh, Stan, I love you so much!" 

He kissed her again, and she felt his warm, masculine form against her, his 
lips, and in her drowsy state she found her mind harking back to the 
lovemaking of Leland Edgewater; to the professor's strong, sinewy arms and 
hot probing tongue and long, hard, accomplished penis stroking with exciting 
regularity into her lust-moistened vagina. She found herself thinking about 
how his great organ had felt inside her, the building excitement it had 
generated, and then the wonderful, delicious, neoteric sensations the 
spilling of his seed had released in her ... her orgasm, God that tremendous 
fulfilling climax she had experienced... 

And suddenly then, lying in the protective embrace of her husband, Dawn 
realized she was once more becoming aroused! Yes, it was true, there was no 
denying it; her nipples were growing turgid beneath her dress, and her 
vagina was again lubricating with almost alarming rapidity. The lewd images 
of she and Leland Edgewater coupling on the couch, of the flickering movie 
on the wall, darted back and forth in her mind and her breath began to grow 
increasingly ragged. 

Oh no, no, she thought, this is wrong, this is wicked to want sex again, 
even if it is with my husband. Oh what a tramp I am ... yes, that's the only 
word for it. I've become a tramp, but why? What strange chemical 
transformation has taken place in my body? What unfathomable change has made 
me think these carnal thoughts, made me need and want sex...? Was it the 
fact that I achieved orgasm, such a good and beautiful orgasm, for the first 
time? Was it that? Perhaps I Want to experience such wonder with my husband 
... perhaps I have to know deep inside me if that cumming with Leland was 
just some biological fluke, or just the beginning of sexual pleasures for 
me.. . 

"Stan," she heard herself whisper. "Stan ... honey?" 

"Yes, Dawn?" 

"Stan..." She began, almost unconsciously, to move her pelvis against his, 
to rotate her hips in little gentle motions pressing her moistening pussy 
tighter against her husband's groin insinuatingly. "Stan, I ... I know 
you're going to think I'm wicked, but I ... well, I want to make love now, 
darling. Stan, I want you to make love to me." She held him tighter, began 
kissing his neck, his ear, slipping her warm wet tongue inside the orifice. 
"Stan, oh God I want you, Stan! I want you now, right now!" 

Her increasingly bold words took Stan by surprise, but he felt his prick 
give a tingling response to her gyrations against him. Her tongue flicking 
into his ear brought his cock to its full erection, and she, feeling his 
hardness, began to undulate more provocatively. What's the matter with her? 
he thought confusedly. This isn't Dawn, my sweet childish, almost asexual 
wife, talking to me this way. It's almost as if she's changed somehow, in 
some way, been made over by that bastard Leland, the way he took advantage 
of her today ... I should be shocked, angry-but I'm not. No, damn it, I'm 
not! I'm aroused, because this is what I've longed for, this kind of 
response in my wife, this kind of movement, these words ... even though the 
sperm of another man's balls is still in her belly... 

"Yes!" he said against her neck. "Yes, Dawn my darling, I want to make love 
to you! I want you right now, too!" 

"Oh hurry then!" she cried, kissing him, dry fucking him with natural and 
unashamed ease, with the ardor of a practiced woman. "Hurry and make us both 
naked, darling! Hurry, hurry!" 

Stan's mind was fast becoming a raging inferno of desire, for now he 
realized that he was going to have his wife as he had wanted to have from 
the first moment they'd met; he was going to know the full extent of her 
hidden depths, of that he was intuitively certain, for she was different and 
passionate, the woman he had always prayed for her to be, and that was all 
that mattered now. The end justifies the means, and to hell with anything 
else... 

His hands were feverish on her clothes, on his own, loosening buttons and 
unzipping zippers and flinging garments onto the floor on both sides of the 
bed. Dawn helped him, making little urging sounds as she did so, caught up 
now in the impossible need both of them felt at the moment. And then they 
were both naked, nude and glistening with love sweat and together again in 
one another's arms. Their hands were everywhere: hers stroked his cock 
slowly, teasingly, as if she had always enjoyed doing that sort of thing, 
tickling his swelling balls with one fingernail; his caressed her firm, full 
tits, tweaked the nipples into even more rigid arousal, moved to the moist, 
downy soft fleece of her pubic mound and found her distended, quivering 
clit. Their tongues flashed into one another's mouths, fusing, flowing their 
hot juices together, as they continued to stroke and caress. 

And into Stan's mind, then, came a singular idea, an idea which he had long 
harbored, a secret desire which he had had from their wedding night. He 
wanted to kiss and lick her cunt! He wanted to put his hard, hot tongue 
deep, deep into her vagina, burying his head in her crotch! Yes, that was 
what he wanted! And that was exactly what he was going to do! He was going 
to lick and suck her clean of Leland Edgewater's rapacious cum! 

He broke their embrace, moved rapidly down the bed trailing his mouth and 
tongue in a fiery path over her swollen tits and flat belly, poising over 
her glistening pubic mound. He stared down at her slightly prominent mound, 
at the soft, wet pinkish red slit hidden below, at the trembling nub of her 
clit; he was almost salivating with expectant desire now. 

Dawn realized in that moment exactly what her husband wanted to do. No, no I 
can't let him kiss me there, not there! her brain protested. It's wrong, 
it's evil ... She reached down, tried to pull his head away from her lower 
belly with her hands in his hair; but he resisted. 

"No, Dawn," he whispered, eyes cast downward as if his words were meant for 
her cunt and it alone. "No, I'm not going to be denied now. I want to kiss 
your pussy. I want to put my tongue in your crotch and in your vagina, Dawn. 
I want to lick and suck you there..." 

"Ohhhhhhh!" wailed Dawn, and yet it was as much in passion as it was in 
anguish. She realized this in her highly aroused state, and suddenly all of 
her defenses seemed to crumble away and she began to quiver with wild, 
wanton desire. It didn't matter that this was wrong, this age-old pagan 
ritual of cunnilingus; no, it didn't matter at all, because she wanted it! 
Yes, she wanted it, wanted her husband to kiss her vagina and her crotch, 
wanted it, wanted it, wanted it! Wanted his tongue where a strange man's 
cock had been such a short time ago... 

"Stan ... yes, Stan, kiss my pussy! Kiss it!" 

And Stan needed no further sign of encouragement than that. With a little 
cry of long-awaited rapturement, he drove his head downward, his lips 
mashing onto her vaginal, fluted ones, his tongue sliding deeply, hotly, 
like a wet oversized worm into the warm sweet pungent recesses of her cunt 
in the consummate French kiss. 

"Ooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!" Dawn cried, her body reacting to his 
oral penetration, her legs convulsively jackknifing upward and splaying wide 
to allow him more access to her naked, softly hair-lined crotch. Her thighs 
closed in tight against the sides of his head, and her hands wrapped almost 
painfully in his hair. 

Stan reveled in his wife's soft sweet furrow. His mouth and tongue made 
obscene sucking sounds that seemed to fill the bedroom, and his hands slid 
beneath her ass cheeks to grip the firm, sweating flesh, driving her loins 
tighter against his questing face. He slipped his fingers into the crevice 
between her sheened buttocks, pulling her crotch yet wider apart for his 
salacious mouth-fucking of her genitals. Then his fleshy, moist tongue 
lapped upward, slowly, insinuatingly, to locate the erect pulsating button 
of her clitoris. She whined in agonizing sharpness at the contact, and cried 
out and jerked at his hair as he took the tiny, trembling bud between his 
teeth and nipped it while he ran the tip of his tongue across and around in 
continuing teasing motion. 

Dawn's head began to flail from side to side in wild abandonment, and she 
drove his head deeper into her crotch. It's good, so good, so wonderful! Oh 
God, it's fantastic! How could I have denied Stan this? How could I have 
thought it to be sick and disgusting ... oooohhhhhh, how could anything this 
good be ugly? His tongue ... so hard, so hot, ssssoooooo goooodddddddd! 

Stan was orally fucking her faster and faster now, sliding his hot wet probe 
deep into her dilated, clasping vagina, tasting her lubrication juices and 
her wetness from Edgewater's recent fucking and finding them as sweet as 
nectar. His face was wet now, and he could feel against his lips and cheeks 
the velvety softness of her puffy, hair-lined furrow. He kneaded and 
squeezed her soft white ass cheeks spasmodically, his fingers, digging into 
the pliant flesh as his face churned in her crotch, and he could feel his 
cum building rapidly in his testicles. Jesus, this was just as he had always 
dreamed it would be! She was sweet and soft and wonderful between her legs, 
just as he had known her cunt would be, and it tasted as delicious as he had 
known, too! Oh this was the finest sexual moment of his life, by far and 
away the very finest ... But his cum was building, building so hot that it 
seemed as if his testes were afire ... he could almost smell the scorched 
flesh ... damn, damn, he had to fuck her! Yes, he had to fuck her and right 
now, there was plenty of time later to lick and suck her pussy, for he knew 
that she liked it-loved it-by the motions of her body and the moans from her 
lips. She wouldn't deny him oral gratification ever again... 

Stan withdrew his tongue from the searing, liquid depths of her pussy and 
raised his head, licking the moist secretions from his lips as if they were 
some rich honey concoction, and smiled up at his wife. Dawn made a sound of 
protest, her hands tugging in his hair as she endeavored to return his 
glistening mouth to her yearning crotch and moist, hot vagina. 

"Don't stop!" she wailed. "Oh God, oh God, darling don't stop, don't stop, 
keep kissing me, keep putting your tongue inside me, please please..." 

"I'm going to fuck you now," he breathed to her, the lewdness of his words 
causing his heart to pound crazily. "I'm going to put my hard penis inside 
your pussy now, Dawn. I'm going to fuck you like Leland Edgewater just did 
and fuck you and fuck you!" 

Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! Dawn's mind screamed. That's right, that's the 
phrase, that's what I want! I need you, Stan, I need you inside me, I need 
you to make me cum. I want us to cum together, Stan, with your big hard cock 
inside my pussy..."Oh yes!" she squealed. "Yessssssss, fuck me darling! Fuck 
meeeee!" 

"Take my prick in your hand," he commanded, feeling tremendously virile and 
masculine at that moment. "Take it, Dawn, and put it inside your cunt! Do it 
now, Dawn! Now!" 

Moaning, Dawn reached down as Stan moved forward over her. She grasped his 
blood-enraged prick, squeezing its fleshy, ridged expanse lightly, and 
guided it to her trembling, waiting, moistly shining slit. She teased the 
hard, rubbery head along the sensitive folds of her labia for an instant, 
then placed the glans with its semen-oozing, unseeing eye at the door of her 
lusting hole. 

"No! cried Stan suddenly, caught up in his newfound power. "I want you from 
behind! I want to fuck you dog-fashion!" 

A shiver of lasciviousness coursed through Dawn, and without dwelling on 
what she was doing, she had moved around on the bed to kneel with her 
buttocks upraised before her husband's feasting eyes. The knowledge that he 
was starting at the globoid moons of her ass, at the moist valley between 
them, further enticed her. She reached around and located his prick again, 
leading it as she would a blind thing to the opening of her cunt again, 
parting her own sparse blond pubic hair and positioning it there. Her 
breasts bobbed and swayed down from her chest, and her hair fanned out on 
the spread. She leaned forward on her elbows, holding her breath, waiting. 

With a moan of conquering savagery, Stan flexed his buttocks forward and his 
hard, purplish cock sliced through her soft receptive cunt flesh with 
vibrating passion, filling her channel to the overflowing, sending his 
mammoth marble-hard monster deep within her hidden caverns to strike with 
wet force the rounded protuberance of her cervix. 

"UUUUUhhhhhhhhh!" Dawn screamed, feeling his bloated sac of sperm slap 
against her lower thighs, feeling his pelvis grind hard against her lewdly 
upturned ass cheeks, feeling his wiry pubic hair tickle her velvety skin 
pleasurably. 

"Mmmmmmm!" muttered Stan as he withdrew his great rod, thrust forward again, 
withdrew, thrust forward. His hands came around to closer over and knead her 
perfect, firm tits, thumbs tweaking the nipples as he squeezed the globes 
joyously. He was heaving forward now with long, drubbing strokes, driving 
his great shaft far up into her belly, and Dawn's head was resting on the 
pillow with her hands clutching spasmodically at the spread in her spiraling 
passion. 

"Fuck back!" Stan commanded, driving mercilessly into her. "Come on ... 
sweetheart ... fuck back!" 

And Dawn obeyed, mindless with passion now, her hips swirling with looping 
rotations back against the hot, hard wonderful cock ripping into her cunt. 
Harder and harder, wilder and wilder, her buttocks buffeted against his 
heaving loins, and Stan's hands threatened to exert enough pressure as he 
squeezed her breasts to pop the nipples right off. 

Dear God, she thought, never had anything been this good, this wild, this 
free ... The afternoon with Leland Edgewater was a sexual nonentity compared 
to this wonderful fucking from behind she was receiving from her husband! Oh 
she loved it, loved it more than anything she had ever experienced before, 
she was free and reborn, a new woman, a woman of the flesh for if sex could 
be this good she wanted it again and again and again... 

"I'm ... I'm going to ... to cum!" Stan suddenly shouted behind her, fucking 
into her gyrating buttocks with almost sadistic rammings now. "Yes, I'm 
there, I'm ... cccuuummmiiinnnggg!" 

Dawn felt lancing flames burst from the magnificent muscle pounding and 
ripping into her vaginal tunnel from arrears, felt the hot stickiness of his 
cum pour into her belly, inundating her cuntal walls as her husband moaned 
and mewled and clutched convulsively at her flesh. His prick jerked and 
lashed in a lewd dance macabre in her vagina as his balls contracted, 
emptying themselves of his tremendous load of semen. 

She jerked and twisted and buffeted back against the paroxysming prick of 
her loved one, she began to chant: "Yes! Fuck it hard, fuck it hard, keep 
cumming darling, don't stop cumming, don't stop cumming.. . ! " 

The very salaciousness of her words sent her own orgasm over the high peak 
of enrapturement, and she screamed in a high wailing voice, screamed like a 
woman dying of the most acute pleasure-pain. Wave after delicious wave of 
floating, drifting climax carried her out of herself, to far reaches of the 
spirit, to wonders never before imagined, surpassing by millenniums the 
cumming she had so recently experienced with LeLand Edgewater.. . 

Finally, when Stan's cock had given its last spurt of semen, he collapsed 
forward, driving Dawn's now limp body onto the bed. He lay there on top of 
her, his prick still soaking in the combined juices of their orgasm inside 
her pussy. Little rivulets of the male-female liquid squeezed out around his 
now flaccid member and flowed down onto the bed beneath Dawn's still widely 
splayed legs. After awhile, Stan removed his cock with a soft sluicing 
sound, watching fascinatedly as a single gossamer strand of semen trailed 
from her vagina to the shiny glans, and then he lay down beside her. 

It was Stan who broke the long, ensuing silence. "Sweetheart ... baby, that 
was the most wonderful few moments of my life! When I came-when we came 
together-I thought I was going to go insane with delight!" 

She kissed his face, caressed his sweat-slick body tenderly. "I know, Stan 
darling, I know." 

"Leland Edgewater ... ? " he began tentatively, after another silence, 
briefer this time. 

"You don't have to ask," she whispered lovingly. "You're the only man in my 
life, the only man who could ever make me feel as I do now." 

"You're different, Dawn," he said softly. "You're a different woman." 

"Yes, I know. I'm ... awakened, I think. Somewhere deep inside was buried 
sexual heights I never imagined, and now they've been let loose. I ... I'm 
only sorry it didn't happen before." 

"It happened," he said quietly. "Let's be thankful, Dawn, that it happened. 
No matter in what way." 

"I love you, baby." 

"No more than I love you," Stan said, and after a few moments, they fell 
asleep in one another's arms. 

 CHAPTER 5 

The dawn broke through the windows, flooding the bedroom with honey-colored 
light, and from the branch of a nearby tree, sparrows twittered and robins 
chirped in singing praise of the good day to come. A few cottages away the 
history professor's wife was mowing the lawn, the put-put of her power mower 
the only sharp sound in the otherwise idyllic setting. 

Dawn turned over in the bed, sighed, and stretched her arms as she awakened. 
She blinked a few times to rid her eyes of the sand of sleep, and then as 
full consciousness returned, she leaned over and stared at her 
still-dreaming husband. 

I love you, Stan. I truly do. It was as if last night was fated to be, as if 
through some divine destiny our mutual infidelity was proscribed in order to 
achieve some greater good ... yes, so that we would learn more about 
ourselves and about the wonderful life around us. We are now closer and 
happier and more fulfilled... 

Joyously, with the affection and tenderness of a woman toward her one and 
only mate, she slid the covers back and rose, padded naked briefly to the 
bathroom and then downstairs to the kitchen. She fixed a tray of coffee and 
sweet rolls, and bearing her gift of love, she made her way back up to her 
husband. 

"Stan!" she called softly, "Oh Stan!" 

Stan mumbled incoherently, tried to pull the sheets over him, then came 
awake. He yawned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. 

"Good morning, darling," Dawn said, "I have a surprise for you." She stood 
next the bed, tray in hand, and Stan smiled as he saw what she had done. She 
positioned the tray on his lap then crawled in beside him and took the cup 
of coffee she had prepared for herself. 

"Thank you, sweetheart," Stan said. 

"It's because I love you," she replied happily. 

"You loved me before, but never did anything like this!" 

She smiled widely and warmly. "Lots of things have changed in me, Stan. I'm 
... a new woman." 

Stan sipped his coffee. "I fell in love with the old Dawn." 

"Perhaps, but I think that you fell in love with what you thought Dawn 
should have been ... a woman ... and that when you found out I wasn't, well 
... that's what has caused all the trouble. We weren't together like married 
couples ought to be. We were together like kids on a date, and it was all my 
fault." "No, no!" 

"Shhh, yes, Stan. And you know something, darling? When I woke up this 
morning and looked at your handsome body in bed next to me, I thought to 
myself that it was something like divine providence which had prompted you 
to go to Faith Edgewater, and I to have sex with Leland. It was meant to be, 
because, darling, we were meant to be, and that was the only way we would 
have ever learned to stay together." 

Stan was silent for a long while, drinking his coffee and eating the 
buttered roll. Finally he turned to Dawn and said, "I'm glad you feel this 
way, darling, because ... because our sex life did improve last night. But 
I'm not so sure it was divine guidance so much as the Edgewaters who bought 
us together." 

"I don't follow. What do you mean?" Stan frowned. "I've been thinking, and 
it seems to me that it was a plot by them. For instance, Faith was pretty 
confident that I'd fall, after that night you were horrified by those 
treasures of theirs. Perhaps it was all arranged, and the little last-minute 
get-together was really sort of a test to see how we would react, and then 
they took it from there." 

"Yes, I see what you mean," Dawn said thoughtfully. "And the film ... 
awfully convenient, if you ask me. Leland said he had found it, but I wonder 
if he wasn't the one who took it to begin with, knowing that I would be 
angry and hurt.. . " "And aroused," grinned Stan. "Hotter than hell, if you 
want to know," Dawn giggled with a slight blush. 

"I do. I always want to know." Stan looked fondly at his newborn wife, and 
the urge to copulate was strong. He had never done it in the morning ... it 
sounded like fun. His cock grew beneath the sheets. He reached out a 
tentative hand to his wife, and she put her coffee cup down on the table 
beside her, moved the tray off his lap, and snuggled close to him. His hands 
slowly and softly caressed her velvet skin, and little ripples of pleasure 
corrugated through her. She let her hand stray down the flat plane of his 
stomach, over the mound of his muscular lower abdomen and then into his 
pubic bush. She tickled the base of his cock then began to stroke its now 
fully erect, quivering shaft with the tips of her fingers. Her touch made 
Stan groan involuntarily, it being like a warm feather of erotic sensuality. 

"It's funny," she murmured, her hands still playing, "But I think you're 
right, and it was a plot by the Edgewaters. And I'm not angry one bit. They 
probably only wanted to gratify themselves, but what they ended up doing far 
outweighs their motives." 

"I can face them again and not be ashamed. In fact, I'd almost like to see 
them again and tell them that we know and understand." 

"Why don't we?" suggested Dawn. "Let's call on them, today, later on this 
morning." 

"Later on...? " Stan whispered as he kneaded her tender breast. 

"Mnnnn," gurgled Dawn. "Later on ... after we make each other happy again!" 

* * * 

Faith Edgewater answered the door in a pair of dainty, see-through black 
baby-dolls. She smiled as she saw that the visitors were the Ballards, and 
without any concession to modesty, she opened the door wider and invited 
Stan and Dawn in. 

"Who is it, honey?" the familiar voice of LeLand Edgewater called down from 
the bedroom. 

"Stan and Dawn," Faith replied. 

"I'll be right down," he said. 

Faith led the way to the kitchen where she poured the Ballards coffee, and 
then they all retired to the living room. The ripe, full moons of her 
sensuous buttocks swayed provocatively as she walked, and Stan glued his 
eyes to them and the lithe back and legs. The lace baby-doll came to the 
bottom crease of her buttocks, accentuating her thighs below and the 
hobbling globes above, and he tried to determine whether she was wearing any 
panties underneath. God knows she certainly wasn't wearing any brassiere! 

In spite of the fact that he had satiated his cock inside his wife but an 
hour earlier, he reacted with a sudden erection-something, which, after 
finishing with Dawn, that he would have doubted could have happened for a 
week-when this gorgeous piece of female flesh had opened the door. As he sat 
down on the couch he once more ogled the splendid breasts which jutted 
prominently, their full areolae and maraschino cherry nipples almost forcing 
holes through the fine gossamer material. He couldn't believe it! She was so 
abandoned, so ... blatant with her sensuality. 

Faith crossed her magnificent legs, and Dawn thought the same wild 
reflections as her husband. When she had stood fully dressed on the porch 
and seen the Aphrodite-proportioned woman in the doorway, she had suddenly 
and completely understood why Stan had been unable to resist. Before Faith 
had been clothed when they had met, and later, on film, it still did not do 
justice to the full beauty and seductiveness of her-but there, with nothing 
but a wispy gown to accentuate her delights, Faith was in her true glory, 
and Dawn felt a small twinge of envy. Her breasts, so large and round and 
full, yet without the sag so many other women experience when ample, and her 
thin waist and her perfectly proportioned thighs and hips, molding into legs 
a model would covetous of. Dawn could not blame Stan for being won over, for 
allowing her to wreak her sex upon him.... 

"Ah, so good to see you again," Edgewater said, smiling expansively as he 
stepped into the living room. He wore a colorful bathrobe, tied at his waist 
with a satin sash, his long, muscular legs bare beneath it. Dawn had the 
strange, almost titillating feeling that the robe was all that he wore, and 
that if one were to undo the sash and let the robe draw open, one would see 
his Cyclopean cock hanging over his hairy, burly scrotum. A tingle of 
unusual prurience went through her, making the cup in her hand tremble. 

"What brings you around? Anything special?" Edgewater asked, sitting down 
beside his wife on the sofa and accepting the coffee which she had 
previously prepared for him. 

Dawn looked at Stan, a small flush of embarrassment starting to color her 
cheeks. "Well," she began, moistening her lips. 

"We ... we wanted to tell you two that we know," faltered Stan, and then, 
with the first hurdle over, he said more confidently, "Last night Dawn and I 
confessed what we had done. The fellatio by you, Faith, the films with you, 
Leland; everything." 

"And.. . ? " purred Faith. 

"And we wanted to let you know that we don't mind. In fact, we appreciate 
what you did, for it brought us closer together." Dawn sighed and looked at 
Stan with love. "Very close together." 

"Excellent!" said Edgewater. "We were a little afraid that there might be 
repercussions, and that there was the possibility that you couldn't accept 
the other's infidelity." 

"Both Leland and I," interjected Faith, "had the idea that you two had inner 
depths untapped and once confronted with the idea of swapping, would be 
willing to learn. You were right as usual, Leland; but then, you were always 
good at psychology." 

"That's my field," he answered expansively. 

"Wife-swapping," Dawn murmured, rolling the lurid and depraved phrase around 
in her mouth, savoring it like some bittersweet candy. "Yes, I guess that's 
what it was. Wife-swapping....." 

"Tell me Leland," Stan asked, "Do you do this ... swapping often?" 

"As often as we can." 

"We have found that it helps us," Faith added, "And has made our love 
stronger and our marriage more lasting. It's not a new concept; it's 
actually older than the Judeo-Christian idea of monogamous marriage, dating 
back to the Babylonian and Egyptian eras, and even before that, before 
recorded time. It's only within our tightly restricted society, where 
everything that is sensually pleasant is taught to be evil, is the precept 
of group sex shocking." 

"You're right enough about that," admitted Stan. "We are environmental 
products, to be sure, molded by the society." 

"Then you are certainly aware, Stan," Edgewater said, "That the individual 
must think for himself, that he cannot blindly accept the ideology of his 
brothers, for the rules may not be the best just because they're 
traditional. For example, horse-thieving was once a capital offense, and 
many were hanged for it-but not now, because the importance of the horse is 
no longer so basic. The same with monogamy, for no longer is it important 
that the offspring be proven to be yours, or, for that matter, neither is 
there the fear of having offspring." 

"So ... so you thought everything out, and decided to have other partners. 
And you say that it's actually helped you?" 

"Very much so. It's increased our physical enjoyment tenfold, having once 
dropped the binds of unnecessary inhibitions and given in to pure 
gratification." Edgewater smiled. "And my relationship to Faith has been 
more fulfilling, because both of us want to try a little harder with each 
other, to put more heart and soul in our love-making." 

"But here ... on Abbington campus," Dawn said. "I don't see why you picked 
here if that's the way you want to live." 

Faith chuckled lightly. "Oh, we're not so alone here as you may think. We've 
been able to join a regular group, that was already active when we came!" 

"I can't believe it!" gasped the stunned Stan. It was incredulous! Group 
swapping behind the doors of this sterling institution! He looked at Dawn, 
who had her mouth open with shock, the news rocking her as it had him. 

"You'd be surprised at the identity of the members," added Edgewater. "But 
that's unimportant now. What I want to know is if this changing of partners 
has done for you what it does for us. You said that it helped you." 

"It has," Dawn said. "We ... we made love and it was very satisfying." She 
was embarrassed by her sudden bluntness, but then, why not? Leland and Faith 
were experienced, and it was obvious that they viewed sex with an adult 
acceptance. This was 1970, after all ... not 1870. "It was the best we ever 
had," she continued, "and I think it was because we had had sexual 
experience with you." 

Edgewater was beaming. "Exactly so. I'm happy for both of you, and that you 
are no longer sterile or narrow-minded. I'd even hazard to say that you 
would like to do it again with us." 

Once more Dawn began to blush. "I ... I don't know." 

"You seemed to enjoy my penis in you yesterday," Edgewater quietly said. 

Yes, yes she had to admit that he was right. She was emancipated, free from 
her past of bondage. She looked at Stan, seeing the light of love shine in 
his eyes, and she thought, I did have fun, and so did Stan, and our coupling 
was heightened because of our other gratifications ... I want to continue, 
to experiment in swapping with the Edgewaters, because I love my husband and 
he loves me and together we will become unshakable, together forever... 

"Yes," she said stoutly. "I would like you again, Leland." 

"Now?" Edgewater leered. "The four of us, together?" 

"I-but we-" And suddenly, as suddenly as the realization that she wanted 
him, she found herself cringing from the idea. It is one thing to say you're 
going to do something, and another to do it when confronted. Her bluff had 
been called, and pinpricks of terror mixed with the tingling sensation of 
her desires. Dawn was forced to admit she wasn't all that free of her 
puritan heritage, and the image of her naked, making love with Leland 
Edgewater in the same room, in full licentious view of Stan and Faith 
actually was abhorrent to her. In a darkened room, yes ... alone with 
Leland, yes ... but together! No ... no ... she wouldn't! She couldn't! 

Dawn panicked and looked over at Stan again, confusion and fright apparent 
in her eyes. Stan shook his head, indicating "no" and she saw that he, too, 
felt as she. Her husband was not as shocked with the suggestion as Dawn had 
been, but neither was he wanting to strip and plunge into the abyss of 
sexual frenzy with his still-innocent young wife looking on. He, as she, was 
not ready ... was still working up the courage mentally for the still 
impulsive leap off the high-dive of sexual pleasures. 

Or-was he? 

Faith stood, languorously brushing the palms of her hands down her golden 
shanks, undulating slightly and smiling with the tip of her tongue licking 
her moistened lips. "I know," she said softly, "It's a different story when 
you do it alone. Well, let me assure you ... it's better when there's others 
around. It excites the blood and fires the muscles to look over and see 
one's mate caught in the explosion of sexual releases....." 

Stan groaned aloud and his cock once more leaped to the front, and he began 
to quiver all over. This was madness! He must think of Dawn ... of how this 
must be striking her! 

"Remember the films, Dawn?" Edgewater taunted, Remember how seeing your 
husband being sucked by Faith aroused you? Remember how you couldn't take 
your eyes off the movie and how it seemed to bring you to a fuller, higher 
plane of satisfaction?" 

Edgewater rose to stand beside his wife, and still grinning obscenely at the 
Ballards, and especially at Dawn, he slowly, insinuatingly, untied the 
silken sash. 

"No-" gasped Dawn, but it was too late. With a moan of unreasoned 
trepidation, Dawn stared as the robe swung open and fell as Edgewater 
dropped the garment. Her eyes automatically traveled to his pubic region, 
and she gazed suddenly lust-provoked at his masculine cock and balls. Dawn 
shivered and squirmed on the couch, pushing her thighs back and squeezing 
her legs tightly together to attempt the impossible task of stopping the 
rising, churning tide of passion. Already her vagina, still warm and 
tingling from Stan's recent lovemaking and scintillated from the sight 
before her scandalized eyes seemed to fill with a renewed charge of sensual 
obsessions. 

Edgewater's mighty cock hung limp, as if he had some miraculous control over 
its erective powers, as if his constant delving into the arts of fornication 
had endowed him with intimate knowledge of what his body could and could not 
do, and what others were capable of and how to take full advantage. For his 
penis, flaccid and swinging lazily against his turgid balls, seemed to 
excite Dawn even more than the immediate sight of an erect missile, and in 
spite of herself, she leaned forward and gasped, her mind ever filling with 
the eroticism of expectancy. She wanted to touch it ... to make it strong 
and swollen ... to bring his cock to the full height of its glory... 

Even Stan was shook by the sudden display of his superior's genitals. 
Christ! The size of his prick! he thought. Even in his state of limpness he 
is huge and menacing! How the hell did Dawn ever take all of it? How was he 
able to work his gargantuan member into her tight, sweet cunt hole? His mind 
could not fathom his wife's physical acceptance, nor how Edgewater was able 
to keep from getting a hard-on now, with his wife so nearly nude, so 
provocatively moving next to him! 

Faith sucked in her breath when her husband stripped and showed the group 
his genitalia. She stared warmly at his bushy black groin and the 
penis-covered scrotum, and her mouth salivated with increasing intensity. 
Slowly, with motions practiced and perfected over the many years, she 
crossed her arms and arched her spine, and slid the diaphanous wrap up to 
her shoulders and over her head, barely dissembling a strand of her red 
hair. Then she threw the black baby-dolls on the couch and began her wild 
fertility rite again, this time rubbing her breasts with the fingers of one 
hand and splaying her legs to show the fiery bush of her pubic hair with the 
other. 

Stan panted and groaned, his pupils almost burnt by the radiance of her 
complete nakedness. His suspicions were confirmed: she had worn no panties 
beneath the baby-dolls, and his fingers twitched spasmodically as he thought 
of how he'd like to replace hers upon her creamy smooth skin, and tweak her 
nipples and pilot a course through the red valley of her cunt lips. ... 

But still the fear, the strong and long-generated inhibitions tied the 
Ballards to their seats. Dawn, captivated as she was by Edgewater's cock and 
balls, could only move her hands in the vee of her lap, pulling and prodding 
her vaginal area through her black slacks, and Stan twisted agonizingly, 
afraid to touch himself or join the naked couple unashamedly. 

"Come on," beckoned Faith. Her hands dipped to the furrow of her vulva, and 
she spread the soft, hair-lined lips to show the pink and tender folds of 
her labia, a stark contrast to the richness of her surrounding hair. Her 
right forefinger rubbed the palpitating bud of her clitoris, and she 
squatted slightly, her eyes tightly shut with momentary ecstasy. "Don't you 
want to feel my cunt, Stan? 

Ohhhhhhh ... ohhhhhh ... yes, yes---I want you to take your clothes off and 
let me play with that magnificent cock of yours while you slide your long, 
dexterous fingers up my pussy." 

Stan was almost delerious with indecision. He looked at his wife, mistaking 
at first her look of complete sexual carnality as one of shock, and he tried 
to stem his rising licentiousness. He had to ... he couldn't just screw 
Faith here ... Dawn ... not after the rape and the filthy words that he had 
used to her ... he had to show her that he could control his sexual fires... 

Dawn breathed harder and harder, her lungs clawing for the air which seemed 
to be coming in hot gasps down her constricted throat. Faster her hands 
moved, tantalizing her own vagina through the restricting cloth ... she 
looked at Faith, at the way the woman had abandoned herself to masturbation, 
and she shuddered as she thought of the foul and lewd words Faith had used 
to Stan. Cunt ... cock ... pussy... 

No ... no ... I mustn't let this horrible display of abandoned sex arouse me 
this way ... it violates the last barrier of sanctified coupling, denying 
the persons the decency of privacy and even the facade of love ... Stan, oh 
Stan, I would understand, for you are a man, if you were to fall for this 
debauch, but not I ... I must have strength! 

But in spite of their most fervent protests, Dawn and Stan moved 
unconsciously closer to one another, their heat of fuming arousal mingling 
into an appassionato as they became closer and closer to one another. ... 

"Kiss me, honey," ordered Edgewater, "Make me hard now." 

Faith sighed lovingly and dropped all the way to her knees, with her fingers 
still sliding slickly out of her clasping pussy, she began to lick her way 
up the inner thighs of her husband. Her tongue took long, wet lappings, 
bathing his legs and thighs with the juice of her mouth, and then she 
touched the wrinkled sac of his balls lightly with the tip of her tongue. 
Dawn moaned anew as she saw the brown-colored scrotum retract in a jerking 
manner before the advancing probe, and Edgewater's reddish penis stir from 
its sleep. Faith licked higher, her hands worked faster in her cunt, and 
slowly but surely, Edgewater's penis grew rigid. 

It was like watching the birth of some great snake. First it twitched, but 
as Faith licked diligently, his massive prick seemed to flex its muscles and 
the bulbous head purpled with pumping blood, enlarging before Dawn's 
stricken eyes. His corrugated shaft suddenly showed the lines and humps of 
his arteries, and then grew in length, adding inches to its girth with 
astonishing rapidity. At the same time it rose from the nest of his balls 
silently and proudly, like the flagship of a dirigible fleet ascending from 
a mast, until it stood out at an upward angle from his loins. Dawn was 
reminded of a gargantuan cobra at that moment, waving from the basket of 
pubic hair to look around with one, all-seeing eye for a victim to strike. 

With a cry of perverted agony, Stan leapt to his feet, and grabbed his wife 
in his arms. His own penis was in full bloom, erect against his pants, and 
Dawn could feel his hardened muscle prod against her belly as she returned 
his clasping embrace. 

"I love you, Dawn," Stan sobbed in her ear, "But I can't stand it ... I must 
... I must ... Oh God forgive me!" 

"Oh my darling, I want to, too," Dawn found herself replying. "I tried ... I 
tried to stop my passions, but I'm unable..." 

"Let yourself free," choked Edgewater, "Ohhhhh, that's it, that's it, 
Faith...." He opened his lust contorted eyes and gazed paternally at the 
Ballards. "Quick, out of your clothes ... I want to fuck Dawn ... hurry, 
hurry ... my balls feel as though I'm ready to split down the middle with my 
cum!" 

Their minds now completely filled with the orgiastic fever of desire, the 
Ballards did as Edge-water requested. They threw all considerations to the 
wind, and ripped and tugged at their restraining clothes, throwing the 
garments around at random, until the floor was strewn and Stan and Dawn 
stood naked and panting. 

For a split second Dawn was acutely embarrassed, for no other person besides 
Stan had seen her naked since she was old enough to fend for herself. But 
then she saw the engorged and angry cock of her husband standing from his 
lower belly with all the fire and lust of Edgewater's, and once more 
absolute sexual fanaticism bubbled through her system. Her coral tinged 
vagina flowered with warm, sexual lubricants, and she found that she was 
putting her hand to her crotch in a imitation of 

Faith's still flaying fingers. God ... it felt so good, standing without a 
stitch on in this living-room, surrounded by lover ... my needs overwhelming 
me! 

"Stop, Faith," Edgewater commanded, "I want to fuck her ... I want to put my 
cock inside Dawn now!" 

Faith rose and licking her lips for the last drop of her husband's clear 
seminal fluid, she turned to Stan. "Come here, Stan. I want to slide up and 
down that shaft of yours. Mmmmmm, it looks so big!" 

Dawn shuddered with expectancy, and then she was in Edgewater's strong arms, 
feeling his kisses run up and down her shoulders and neck and across her 
cheeks to her mouth. For a lingering minute they sucked on each other's 
tongues, darting in and out to slide along the teeth and roof of the mouth 
in a soul kiss of heated passion. Then they sunk to the floor, but she was 
surprised to find that instead of lying supine for his towering cudgel, he 
lay on his back and gestured for her to straddle him. But I've never ... ! 
she thought with shock 

"OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH lover! That's it! Faster!" Faith chanted, and Dawn looked 
over and saw that the woman was straddling Stan, his large, quivering prick 
standing upwards in her dilated cunt while she slaved away above him with 
jackhammer poundings of her smooth, white buttocks down against his loins. 
Dawn gulped loudly, her eyes glazed with the lusty fucking her husband was 
enjoying. 

And Stan was in ecstasy. He arched his back and brought his legs up in order 
to sink another millimeter into the clasping tunnel of Edgewater's wife's 
voraciously hungry cunt. His eyes were tightly closed and his mouth had a 
wild, crazy grin on it, and he held Faith's waist in an effort to guide her 
rapid-fire thrusts. 

"Yes, yes ... yes, yes ... yes, yes..." he chanted strangely. 

Dawn mewled with overwhelming frenzy. She lolled on top of Edgewater and 
poised over his monstrous cock, rubbing the blood-bloated head in the 
channel of her vaginal canyon. She saw the matted auburn cunt hair of Faith 
grow more glistening, and she heard the slushing sound of the insatiable 
cunt as it drew its life force from the penis imbedded in it, and then with 
a heathen cry of frustration, Dawn levered down and buried Edge-water's rod 
all the way to its hilt between her wide-straddling legs. 

"AAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH!" she cried out as the penis ripped open the willing but 
tight cavern. He thudded up against her cervix, then flexed his loins and 
the weapon moved outwards again, and the automatic responses in Dawn's 
fevered mind took over and she raised up on her haunches until his prick was 
almost at the door again, and then she surged upwards, then down, then up in 
the tom-tom beat of intercourse. 

"That's it!" yelled Edgewater, "Fuck me! Fuck meeee!" 

Stan rolled his head over and saw the startling sight of his wife 
abandonedly making love to his superior, wrapped up completely with the 
sensual pleasures of her physical being. He felt ambivalent for a moment, 
for he was caught between the lust of his own building orgasm, the intrinsic 
joy of seeing that his wife was enjoying herself, and the trepidation that 
she seemed to be liking the other man's penis maybe a little TOO well. But 
before he could sort out his thoughts, Faith redoubled her energy, and Stan 
was sent flying back to the dream world of sexual libations. Time enough to 
unravel such details as his thoughts later, he groaned to himself, his back 
lifting off the floor in an attempt to meet more fully the palpitating pussy 
of this pagan female. Time .enough later. ... 

Dawn bent to her task, savoring the friction of Edgewater's cock rubbing up 
and down the ridges and dips of her vaginal walls, wallowing in the touch of 
his hands upon her breasts as he rolled her nipples between thumb and 
forefinger, drowned in the wet, lewd crashing of their loins together. She 
found that the best way was to turn her ankles inward and cup his thighs 
with the soles of her feet, allowing her more leverage and wider stance to 
swallow his lust-hardened rod of cockflesh. 

Once more she looked at her husband, and this time Stan smiled back at her, 
and as he did, she realized that her orgasm was approaching with the speed 
of a tidal wave. She was almost fearful of being engulfed by it.. . 

"Don't stop ... don't stop..."heaved Edgewater, "I'm ... I'm going to ... 
cum ... to cum ... to..." 

Suddenly Faith screamed, a high, shrill cat yowl, and she seemed to vibrate 
on Stan's prick like a lightening ball on the end of a metal stick. Her 
orgasmic explosion touched off Edgewater and as her voice died it was 
replaced by his bellowing roar. He opened his mouth and in a blast of air, 
shouted, "Aaaaarrrrggggggg!" He sucked in more breath and groaned, 
"Cuuuuuuummmmmmmm!" 

Great perfumed spurts of creamy hot semen burst into Dawn's trembling pussy, 
battering the very membranes and flooding her womb with horrendous force. 
Surge after milky surge blew from his balls, spasmodically gushing up and 
then rolling downwards to seep from the ovaled opening of her vulva. 

Again Dawn glanced at her husband, and as she did, the force of her own 
climax nearly sent her toppling from the magnificent peg which had nailed 
her fast. "OOOOoooohhhhh!" she wailed, the thunderclap of release hitting 
her cunt and flashing upwards to her brain, searing it with intense heat. 

Stan, his last thought before cumming that of how beautiful his naked wife 
looked as she was fucked half silly by another man, gritted his teeth and 
shivered violently and poured forth a torrential rain of sperm. It boiled 
and steamed inside Faith's sucking pussy like a monsoon, and he could feel 
his balls jerk and jolt as they sent load after load of sustenance to feed 
the insatiable hair-lined mouth between her legs. 

The two women collapsed contentedly over their respective lovers, cooing and 
gurgling with satisfaction. Dawn's face was but inches from Stan's, and as 
they lay there, they made the extra effort of moving still closer until they 
could kiss. 

As their lips met in a blending of eternal love, Dawn knew that Edgewater 
had been right. She loved Stan even more, now, was more fervently aware of 
her strong and unbreakable ties with him, and she passed on to him in their 
kiss all the tenderness and warmth that she felt for him. Yes, and watching 
him cum in another woman while she herself was busily gratifying her own 
sexual needs not only heightened the physical joy inherent in being aroused, 
but added to the concrete fact of her devotion. Everything Leland had told 
me has proved to be right, she mused as she kissed her husband again, I was 
a fool to be hesitant, to be shy and prudish. 

But that was behind her now. As Edgewater's cock once more began to return 
to a flaccid position inside her, Dawn thought of herself as really the 
emancipated woman at last, and that while she had deluded herself before, 
this had certainly to be the ultimate experience. Free. ... Free to enjoy 
and love to the utmost of my ability. And this is barely the beginning ! 

And how prophetic her thoughts were. The rest of the morning and much of the 
afternoon was spent in revelry and naked debauchery. The four of them tried 
many varied combinations, all of them proving to be wildly satisfying to the 
quartet. 

But somehow, none of them ever reached that pinnacle of success which the 
first one had, Dawn thought later. No, the initial challenge was the 
highlight, and the kiss of pure love afterwards the climax. The mental 
change had affected her immensely, she had to conclude as she and Stan 
walked home, and the rest was merely reaffirmations of the fact. 

 CHAPTER 6 

Late the following morning, after completing a vigorous if strenuous project 
of cleaning out her pantry and relining the shelves with oilcloth, Dawn went 
into the bathroom and ran a tub full of tepid water. A nice long soak, she 
reflected, was just what she needed to soothe her tired and aching muscles. 

As she stripped off her housedress and undergarments, she thought about what 
had happened the previous day. Lord, what an incredible afternoon and 
evening it had been! Orgasm after orgasm she had ridden to, astride the 
lathered and turgid-muscled stallion's cock of Leland Edgewater, her eyes 
opened wide to watch her husband and Faith cumming, to watch this other 
woman climbing and racing madly her hungry hair-lined vagina up and down 
Stan's devilishly hard pole ... If there was any doubt of her emancipation, 
of her complete reversal in matters physical, it had been dispelled by the 
lewd copulations she had been a part of-nay, reveled in! The complete 
bacchanalia of yesterday with the Edgewaters was proof positive that she was 
fast becoming sexually insatiable. PENIS, COCK, PRICK ... all the terms for 
the male member, all in capital letters, was skyrocketing to uppermost 
consideration in her mind. She was living now for the male cock whereas in 
the past she had lived in fear of it ... Yes, and most of all she was living 
for the cock of her husband, Stan's cock, for it denoted more than sex, more 
than sheer physical fulfillment alone; it denoted love, a love rekindled to 
heights neither she nor Stan had ever considered possible, a love of the 
purest and most endearing variety, a love to transcend all outside and 
negating forces for it was undestroyable... 

Dawn was completely nude now, and she stood studying herself almost 
critically in the full-length mirror attached to the back of the bathroom 
door. Well, she didn't look any different-same hair, same trim, rich, creamy 
body, same eyes and same mouth, same physical appearance exactly. But she 
was different, all right; very, very different where it counted: inside, 
deep inside, where the essence of her being dwelled... 

Her eyes traveled up and down her full, high-breasted body, and finally 
rested on the sparse blond pubic thatch which lay at the apex of her legs, 
concealing her clitoris but not completely, for she could see it peeping 
shyly from the fleecy strands of hair; framing the rich pink fluted lips of 
her cunt. And as she stared at her pubic triangle, her mind returned to last 
night when she and Stan had come home after the orgiastic day at the 
Edgewaters. She remembered how they had made love, as tired and as gratified 
as both had been; how they had had a great need borne not of desire but of 
love to couple-and they had done so. It had been good beyond belief, Dawn 
recalled, so good with Stan's hard, lovely prick ripping in and out of her 
vagina, again and again until she had screamed and he had screamed and they 
had both cum for what seemed like endless eternities... 

Almost unconsciously as she relived the previous evening, Dawn placed her 
hands on the flatness of her stomach and her own touch was electrifying on 
her skin. She stroked her palms upward to cup and knead the resiliency of 
her alabaster tits, then rubbed her erect nipples tantalizingly between her 
thumbs and forefingers the way Stan had done last night. Restless now, her 
hands moved down once more over the silken plane of her belly to the blond, 
velvet-soft bush of her womanhood, fingertips touching the lips of her 
sensitive cunt as she had seen Faith do to her own yesterday. Her breath 
began to expel raggedly from her lungs, and there were stirrings of 
circumflexing desire in her loins and belly once more. 

Dimly, Dawn thought: I can't do this, I can't masturbate ... Stan will be 
home at five, arid I can find the release I crave then, can fulfill the 
burgeoning desires inside me that are now almost uncontrollable...I must 
wait, but my pussy feels so good when I touch it like this, and my breasts, 
so good, so good... 

Her cunt was beginning to twitch and spasm with seething desire now, flowing 
her passion juices out to glisten wetly on her golden pubic hair and downy 
thighs, and she abandoned herself totally to this new Dawn Ballard which had 
and was emerging. She spread her legs wide, squatting slightly, flowering 
her pussy wide as she inspected the soft, shining mouth circumspectly in the 
mirror. Her hips began a slow rhythmic undulation as she teasingly stroked 
her sensitive labia, up and down, up and down. Then she found the now erect 
bud of her clit and began to tweak it with little flicks of her nail, and 
passion rode higher and higher inside her body like molten fire. Low moans 
escaped her lips as she moved her finger still faster on her clit, and more 
secretions emptied from the bottomless well of her insatiable cunt, and she 
knew that yet another orgasm was soon to be hers... 

The doorbell suddenly rang. 

Dawn's hand ceased its flashing manipulation of her clit, and a low 
protesting groan bubbled from her throat. Damn, damn, damn! Now who can that 
be? Damn, why did that doorbell have to ring now, why did whoever it is have 
to come NOW? Just a few more minutes... 

She debated for a brief moment as to whether or not to answer the ringing 
summons, then decided that she had best do so since it may be something 
important. You never knew. Grumbling, she took her terry cloth robe from its 
hook in the bathroom closet, put it on over her nudity tying it almost 
haphazardly, and hurried through the cottage to open the front door. 

Dr. Willard Lytell, Abbington College's sixty-year-old President, stood 
smiling cheerily on the porch outside. "Hello, Dawn, my dear," he said 
jovially. "How are you on this fine morning?" 

"Why ... good morning, Dr. Lytell," said Dawn, somewhat flustered. Now why 
would he be paying her a visit? She certainly wasn't expecting him... 

"May I come in, Dawn? I ... have something I'd like to discuss with you." 
His eyes moved discreetly to her hastily tied robe, lingering on the outline 
of her high firm breasts, and then returned to her face. "Or perhaps I've 
interrupted something? I can come back later, if it would be more 
convenient.. . " 

"No, no, not at all, Dr. Lytell," Dawn said quickly, not wanting to 
jeopardize in any way Stan's standing at Abbington college by shunning its 
president. "Please come in. I ... was just getting ready to take a bath, 
that's all, but that can wait." 

Lytell stepped past her as she drew the door wide, smiling as he entered the 
cottage living room. He was tall and spindly, with thinning gray black hair 
and a long, oddly shaped nose. His skin was leathery, like old dried 
parchment, and his eyes were a watery, opaque blue color. He had always 
reminded Dawn vaguely of an ogre in one of those books for children, but 
since he had never been anything but pleasant and courteous to her and Stan, 
she rather liked him. In fact, the very nature of his grotesque appearance 
made him somewhat appealing to her. 

"Won't you sit down, sir?" she invited. 

"Willard, please," he said. "No formalities, Dawn; they're always so awkward 
and unnecessary." 

"All right ... Willard." 

Lytell grinned and crossed to the couch, the same couch upon which Dawn had 
allowed herself to first be fucked by Leland Edgewater. He sat on one 
cushion near the middle, not allowing Dawn much room of her own when she 
seated herself; she entertained the fleeting idea of taking another seat, 
but the couch was so positioned and Lytell was so sitting that it would have 
been difficult to talk to him from any other piece of furniture. 

Dawn felt a vague annoyance at Dr. Lytell's presence as she smoothed the 
terry cloth robe on her knees. The passion which her fingers had instilled 
in her moments earlier was still present in her body, still strong and 
demanding, and she wished he would leave so she could resume her 
masturbation". She had no compunction about so doing once she was alone 
again, for her need for release was great and there wasn't any use in 
deluding herself that she was still Miss Innocent. She would make herself 
cum with her fingers playing down between her spread thighs, make herself 
cum, cum... 

She suddenly realized Lytell was talking to her. "What?" she asked. "I'm 
sorry, Willard, my mind seemed to have been ... wandering. What did you 
say?" 

"I asked how you've been lately, my dear?" Lytell repeated, and she noticed 
for the first time that there seemed to be a spark of fire in his watery 
eyes. He was looking at the front of her robe again, at the protruding 
outline of her nipples there, erect once again at her salacious thoughts. 
She flushed slightly, shifting her position, and the robe fell open to 
expose part of one creamy thigh. Lytell licked his lips, and his eyes seemed 
to spark hotter as he stared at her soft, buttery skin. 

Flushing still redder, Dawn drew the robe closed. I never realized it 
before, she thought, but Dr. Willard Lytell is a dirty old man! For some 
reason, that thought made her want to giggle, and she had to fight to 
restrain the impulse. She said, "I've been ... fine, Willard. Just fine." 

"I'm glad to hear that," said Lytell. "You're looking well, my dear. Lovely, 
in fact. You have an exquisite body, you know; truly an exquisite body." 

"Really, Willard..." 

"I've long admired your body, Dawn," Lytell said, and his tone seemed now to 
have taken on almost mesmeric, hypnotic qualities. "I've long admired the 
high firmness of your breasts, and the soft, tight roundness of your 
buttocks. I used to imagine what you would look like nude, whether or not 
your pubic hair would be blond like your tresses..." 

Dawn leapt to her feet, her face burning now with embarrassment and sudden 
anger-and something else she couldn't quite define at that moment. She 
glared down at the college president. "You ... you have no right to talk to 
me like that!" she flared. "Are you drunk or something, coming in here and 
saying things like that to a woman young enough to be your ... your 
granddaughter!" 

Lytell seemed secretly amused. "You're very lovely when you're angry, do you 
know that, my dear? Very lovely..." 

"Get out of here!" Dawn cried. "Get out of here right now, before ... before 
I call Stan!" 

"That won't be necessary," Lytell told her. "Not in the least." 

"Then please leave!" 

"I think not," said Lytell. "I think I'll stay and look at your fine, 
beautiful body. You have such a fine body, Dawn, so firm and full ... I can 
see that you're nude under that robe, and it excites me, Dawn. It excites me 
more than you could possibly imagine to think of what you're like nude under 
that robe..." 

Why ... why, he has a hard-on! Dawn thought with an instantaneous 
realization. I can see it bulging there in his pants, long and thin like a 
snake ... what's the matter with him? Why has he come here like this, why is 
he talking to me like this when he was ahvays so polite and reserved 
before...? 

And then Dawn remembered Leland Edgewater's words of the day previous, when 
he had confessed to her and Stan that there was an active swap group on the 
campus of Abbington College: "You'd be surprised at some of the members!" 
Was it possible that Willard Lytell-staid, respected, conservative Willard 
Lytell, the college's president-was one of the swap club members? It seemed 
inconceivable ... and yet, what other explanation was there for his actions? 
If he had been talking to Leland, and the Psych professor had somehow told 
Lytell of what had been transpiring between him and Dawn, Faith and Stan... 

Some of Dawn's anger inexplicably waned as she stared down at the still 
leering college president; indecision took its place. What should she do? 
Should she say something about the swap club? No, that was foolish, for if 
he wasn't a member-if there was some other reason behind his actions-she 
could make irreparable damage to not only Stan's career but those of Leland 
Edgewater and Lord knew how many others. And yet, if he was a member, and 
she repulsed him, there might still be repercussions. Suppose he took out 
his rebuke on Stan, got him fired or something? Oh God, what should she dot 

Dawn kept staring at the bulge of Lytell's hardened cock, and he saw where 
her eyes lay. He stretched confidently, then, lifting his loins slightly so 
that his apparent erection was even more prominent. "Yes, Dawn," he crooned 
to her in his intoning voice. "Yes, I have a hard-on. You gave it to me, 
Dawn; the thought of that magnificent body of yours gave me this hard-on. My 
cock is hard with the need for you, Dawn. I want you, Dawn, I want to put my 
Dawn-hard cock inside you, deep deep inside you..." , Noooo! her mind 
dissented. No, shut up, I don't want to hear your filthy words! Go away, 
leave me alone, give me time to think about what to do! Go away, damn you, 
go away old man... 

"Come here, Dawn," Lytell said, smiling insinuatingly and holding out his 
hands. "Come here, little Dawn, and sit down beside me. I want to touch you, 
Dawn. I want to put my hands on that lovely, perfect body of yours. Come 
here, Dawn, come here.. . " 

Again, Dawn's mind protested at the salaciousness of Lytell's mesmeric 
incantations. But the noncompliance was weaker this time. She felt somewhat 
dizzy, as if there was a swirling, eddying fog inside her brain, and she 
seemed to sway for a moment indecisively. Then, in that instant, with 
terrible insight, she knew that the indefinable feeling she had had earlier 
had been one of arousal! Yes, she was aroused by this old man's lewd 
compliments, his wicked words, his obscene but hypnotic tone of 
voice-excited above and beyond the passion which had been generated by her 
masturbating fingers. It was a seething turmoil inside her now, she 
realized, a crying voice that demanded satisfying, demanded release, or it 
would surely destroy her. Her pussy, in spite of her revulsion at his age, 
was secreting great amounts of hot, burning love juice down her thighs now, 
and her nipples were like quivering pain buds on her swollen tits. 

No, no, he's an old man, an old man, I can't do anything with him ... it's 
sick, perverted, no no noooooo! But the protesting voice was a barely 
audible whisper receding into the back of her mind, and she could no more 
obey it than she could obey the command of an idiot child. She was consumed 
with rising lust now, the slave of her passion, and she knew and yet didn't 
care that she would do anything Lytell demanded of her no matter how much 
her old self-which was responsible, she knew, for the dissenting 
voice-begged her not to. 

Slowly, her eyes glazed, she moved forward and sat down close to the old 
college president, unmindful of the way her robe slid open to reveal almost 
all of her alabaster thigh. Lytell gasped, and then reached out and touched 
her knee, lightly. Dawn jumped, but she made no effort to remove the alien 
claw; her breathing had quickened considerably, and she was staring almost 
as if she were in a trance at the now lengthened bulge in Lytell's trousers. 

Then the president's withered, bony fingers were moving upward, upward along 
her thigh, caressing her flesh and sending little ripples of desire shooting 
through her. He moved closer, his other hand deftly untying the robe's belt 
and drawing it wide open. He sucked in his breath in a convulsive moan as 
the splendid sight of Dawn's young, un-trammeled nudity assailed his gaping 
eyes-the globes of sculpted perfection which were her breasts, topped with 
their hard, pink nipples; the flatness of her stomach; the soft, fleecy down 
of her pubic area. 

"You're more beautiful than I could have dreamed!" he wheezed, his breath 
satyr-hot against her face. "You're Venus and Aphrodite and Cleopatra, all 
rolled into one!" His one hand circled her neck, reached down around to 
stroke the sloping plane of one smooth, snowy tit, index finger extended to 
touch and tease the glowing peak. His other hand had moved all the way up to 
the "V" of her soft, warm wet loins now, had touched the tender pink furrow 
tentatively at first and then with increasing ardor. He made little purling 
sounds of desire as his finger traced a pattern the length of her moistened 
vaginal slit, located the distended knob of her quivering miniature phallus, 
tantalized it for a moment and then, parting the soft pubic fuzz returned to 
the door of her cuntal channel. It slid inside, moving along the sensitive 
walls deliciously in a teasing circular motion. 

Against her ear, Lytell murmured in an impassioned whisper, "Touch me, Dawn! 
Touch my cock, Dawn! Reach over and touch it and then take it out! Let it be 
free, Dawn my dear! Let my cock be free!" 

And she obeyed, mindlessly, enjoying the salacious fingers rummaging in her 
cunt and on her breast. She slid her hand over' to him, felt the hard, 
slender outline of his cock through the material of his pants, tickled the 
head slightly. Then she passed her hand up to his belt, located the zipper 
of his fly, drew it down with a sibilant sound that seemed even louder than 
their combined and ragged breathing. 

She reached inside, drew aside his boxer shorts, and located the hardened 
member with her fingers. She pulled it out, making it free, and then she 
opened her closed eyes to stare at his prick as it stood from the opened fly 
like a periscope seeking light. It's withered. Dawn thought numbly. It's old 
and withered, like Willard Lytell is old and withered, all purplish arid 
hard and wrinkled ... and yet it's exciting, his cock is exciting, oh God 

I've become nothing but a depraved carnal woman reveling in the sight of an 
old man's penis ... thinking about how it will feel inside me, for that's 
where it will surely be before long... 

She seized his weapon in her hand, began to slide her palm and the soft 
inside her fingers up and down its trembling expanse, playing joyously over 
its ridges as a porpoise plays joyously over the waves. She strummed the 
smooth, rubbery head with her nails, slid down to grasp the base and caress 
the wrinkled hirsute sac of his balls. 

"Mmmmmmm!" moaned Lytell, his own fingers churning faster and faster in and 
out of her wet, warm cunt. "That's so good, so wonderful, Dawn! I love it, 
Dawn, I love it! But I'm an old man, and I'm unable to last very long ... 
you'll make me cum if you keep that up, my darling, and I want to cum inside 
you. Dawn, I want to fuck you! Dawn, I want to fuck you with my hard old 
cock deep inside you! Let me fuck you, Dawn, now now now!" 

"Yes!" she heard herself cry. "Yes, Willard, yes! Oh God, I can't help 
myself, I can't help myself, I want you, Willard! I want your wrinkled old 
cock fucking me! Fuck me, Willard!" 

And then Lytell was drawing her toward him, pulling the terry cloth robe 
from her shoulders, making her completely naked. His hands were feverish on 
his own clothes, pulling trousers and suit coat and shirt and tie and 
undergarments off and tossing them helter-skelter. Then he, too, was naked 
and she saw his hairy, parchment-skinned old body glistening with excited 
sweat before her eyes, his slender prick dancing satanically from his 
puckered loins-and she wanted him! Wanted him to fuck her, needed him, 
needed his cock to release the swirling, mind-boggling passion which 
consumed her very soul. 

Lytell guided her down on her stomach onto the floor, sliding across the rug 
to position himself behind her. Vaguely, Dawn thought that he would fuck her 
cunt from behind dog fashion, as her own husband had done two nights ago, 
and she quivered with expectancy at the penetration. But then Lytell 's 
hypnotic voice was whispering strange panting words to her as he pressed the 
lubricated head of hs swollen cock against the nakedness of one of her 
softly rounded ass cheeks, reached his hands up to stroke her sides 
maddeningly: "I'm going to fuck you now, Dawn my beauty! I'm going to fuck 
you deep and hard, deep and hard-in your anus! I'm going to fuck your anus, 
Dawn, your tender little hairless ass-hole! Oh, it's beautiful, your 
ass-hole is beautiful all puckered and brown and glistening ... I'm going to 
fuck it, Dawn, I'm going to drive my prick all the way up your bowels!" 

Dawn stiffened in sudden fear at the vile thought of her innocent, virginal 
anus being penetrated by this old man's withered penis. It was foul, 
disgusting ... but no, why try to kid herself, it was an exciting thought! 
The idea of being fucked in the tight, rubbery confines of her rectum was 
tremendously if fearfully exciting! She was emancipated now, wasn't she? She 
was free from the bonds of her puritanical existence, so why shouldn't she 
allow this old college president to sodomize her? Why shouldn't she cast one 
more vestige of innocence to the wind? 

She raised up on all fours like an animal, turned her head, feeling the 
sweat of lust flow down from her forehead and armpits. "Yes!" she cried 
tormentedly. "Yes, Willard, fuck my anus! Fuck me between my legs! Hurry, 
Willard, I want to feel your cock inside me there!" 

Lytell moaned with salacious, lubricious delight at her acquiescence, and he 
began to stroke her soft white buttocks, teasing the small, puckered mouth 
of her rectum with the tip of his finger, enjoying the moans of pleasure 
which were now emanating from Dawn's fevered mouth. Slowly, tantalizingly, 
he inserted the tip of one finger into her anal opening, wiggling it around 
inside, eliciting deeper animalistic whimpers from the subjugated woman 
kneeling like a bitch in heat right before his eyes. He drew apart the 
glistening mounds of her upturned ass cheeks, stretching the rubbery hole of 
her rectum wide with his thumb-tips. He leaned forward, so that the hard 
fleshy glans of his blood-engorged prick rested against the defenseless, 
sweating hole. He flexed his hips lightly, teasing the wrinkled shaft along 
the crevice, poising it at last at the tight, puckered sphincter ring and 
holding it at its base in the circle of thumb and forefinger. 

Dawn was trembling with a combination of fear and lusting anticipation of 
this rape of her backside, this new plateau to her total freedom as a woman. 
She could feel the huge, bulbous head of his bloated rod resting at the 
gateway of her innocence, and her mind was awhirl with confused thoughts. Oh 
God, oh god, it's going to hurt when he shoves it inside me! It's going to 
hurt like nothing has hurt before. But I don't care, I want it to hurt, I 
deserve to be hurt. God, I'm so hot I can't stand it ... I need to be 
fucked, there, anywhere ... I need to be fucked, fucked, oh hurry Willard, 
fuck me... 

" AA AA AA AIIIIIE E E EE Eaaaaagggghhhhh!" she howled then with violent, 
consuming pain that snapped off all her thoughts as one would a household 
lamp by flicking a switch. With a sharp forward thrust, Lytell had bored his 
slender, hard cock far up into her tight, virginal ass-hole, worming the 
swollen cudgel through the sensitive membranes of her anal passage to bury 
it almost to the hilt in the soft rubbery confines clamping tightly to it. 
He clutched hard at her hips, flexing again as he burrowed yet deeper into 
the warm forbidden depths of her rectum. The pressure of his lunges pushed 
her forward, pushed her head down to the fuck carpet upon which she knelt, 
and she grasped handfuls of the rug with her spasming fingers. Lytell began 
heaving forward with long, sawing strokes now, the rubbery walls of Dawn's 
anus expanding before his invading member until he gave one final, sadistic 
lunge and buried every single inch of his prick into her warm, defensively 
clamping rectum. 

"Uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh!" squealed Dawn. "Ohhhhh, it hurts, ithurtsssssss! Oh God 
in heaven, Willard, it hurts so muchhhhhh!" 

"No, no, it's good, it's wonderful!" the college president chanted behind 
her. "You have to relax ... just relax, my beauteous Dawn ... relax and fuck 
back against my cock ... it will stop hurting for you and become as 
wonderful as it is for me..." 

Numbly, Dawn obeyed his instructions, grinding her buttocks salaciously back 
in savage circular motions against his drubbing prick buried deep inside 
her. And suddenly, what he had told her became true; her anal passage became 
accustomed to the hardened slender penis imbedded there, and she was 
overwhelmed by a sudden flash of desire as his bloated, wrinkled balls 
slammed against her wet, clenching pussy below. She was beginning to like 
it! Yes, yes, yes, she was enjoying this lewd, bestial sodomizing of her 
most secret parts now. Her head rolled from side to side and she buffeted 
back harder and harder against Lytell's pistoning shaft, churning her lovely 
cream-white buttocks in a wild, abandoned dance of perverted love. 

"Uuuuummmmm, yeesssssss!" she screamed. "Yesssss, Willard, yes, you were 
right, it's good, it's wonderfulllll! ... oh God, fuck it, fuck it, fuck my 
ass-hole harder with your beautiful cock..." 

* * * 

From his vantage point just inside the living room door of the Ballards' 
cottage, the tall crew-cut blond, muscular form of Rock Dawson watched the 
spectacle on the floor across the room with lust-filled eyes and salivating 
lips. He had slipped inside just as the old bastard had sunk his wrinkled 
prick deep up the ass-hole of the sweet little wife of Professor Ballard. He 
had heard her cry out in pain at first, and now was hearing her urge the old 
man on to greater and harder pistonings into her anus as she flailed her 
full round buttocks demonically back against him. 

Christ! Dawson thought. She's really digging the old guy's prick in her 
fanny! Who would have figured that icy little bitch to turn on like this? 
She had always been so uppity around campus, like her goddamned shit didn't 
stink or something; well, she was really getting hers now ... and it 
wouldn't be long before he, Rock Dawson, would be getting his. Christ, but 
he'd dreamed about putting his cock to this gorgeous hunk of woman, ever 
since that time before she got married when he'd tried to get her to go to a 
beer bust with him up at Schuyler Falls and she'd turned him down in this 
cold voice like she was some queen and he was nothing more than a goddamned 
serf or something. 

Dawson felt his prick harden inside the chino slacks he wore, and he let his 
right hand slide down to his belt, unbuckling it. He unzipped his fly, took 
out his now rigid, rod of hardened flesh and stroked it lightly as he 
watched Willard Lytell sodomize Dawn Ballard with grunting delight. He 
reveled in the wet plopping sounds of the old man's cock sliding in and out 
of the ypung woman's tender little ass-hole. Better give old Lytell a few 
more minutes, he thought as he lowered his chinos and his shorts and stepped 
out of them. The duffer liked to give them a good fucking alone first, and 
he could hold out from popping his withered nuts for a reasonably long time; 
so what the hell? Let him have his kicks; Rock would have his soon enough. 

Dawson's muscled thighs corded with anticipation as he stroked his prick 
into further rigidity. He was tall, with bulging biceps and pectorals, and 
he wore his blond hair short and combed forward and to one side. He was 
Abbington College's star football halfback, had made all-conference in the 
small Midwestern league of which Abbington was a part, and was generally 
considered to be a Big Man On Campus by the bevy of coeds who followed him 
around. His father was rich, an industrialist from Canton, Ohio, and Rock 
always drove the latest in flashy European sports cars. His pockets were 
always full of money, and he wore expensive and ofttimes mod clothes. He was 
the current Student Body President, a member of the Swimming Team, and 
Senior Class representative of the Sigma Chi fraternity. 

He was also a ranking member of the Jack and Jill Club-Abbington College's 
rapidly growing swap cult. 

He stood watching Willard Lytell, another of the Club's members (hell, old 
Lytell had founded the goddamned group, for Christ's sake!), and he was 
becoming increasingly aroused by the way young Mrs. Ballard's head and body 
jerked and twisted under the old man's savage pummeling of her ass-hole. 
Lytell sure knew how to give it to a chick, you had to hand him credit for 
that, Rick Dawson reflected. Why, it was even a pleasure to watch him work 
sometimes, especially when there was such a nice piece as the stuck-up Mrs. 
Ballard involved. 

His prick was trembling with lubricious fervor now, and he stroked it 
harder, feeling his balls burgeon with his cum. It was a good thing he'd 
been around when Professor Edgewater told Lytell about how Dawn Ballard was 
ready for full initiation; he couldn't believe it at first, what with the 
way she'd always acted. But it was true, sure enough, and he was going to be 
in on that initiating in just a couple of seconds ... hell, right now! He 
had to join in or keep beating off-he was too excited now to settle for just 
watching-and there were a lot better ways to get your wad blown than by your 
own hand... 

Dawson started forward, holding his cock in the palm of his hand and 
grinning lewdly. He walked boldly up to where old Lytell was throwing the 
balls to the young Mrs. Ballard, and Abbington's president turned his head, 
saw him, and leered with his sweat-sheened mouth. 

"Good, eh, Mr. Lytell?" Dawson asked as he stepped around to the front of 
the bucking couple on the floor, still holding his cock in his palm. 

"Damned good, Rock!" Lytell wheezed. "She's wonderful, marvelous, 
oooohhhhh!" 

Dawson grinned still wider, dropping to his knees in front of the now raised 
head of Dawn Ballard, presenting his cock to her as if it was a long-awaited 
gift from some far-off land... 

* * * 

Ripples of horror skyrocketed through Dawn's passion-fevered flesh as she 
stared at the gloating face of Rock Dawson, whom she recognized instantly, 
and at his swollen, almost parboiled-looking prick being extended toward her 
face. 

"Nice, isn't it, Mrs. Ballard?" Dawson asked, lightly fondling his cock. "Do 
you like my prick, Mrs. Ballard?" 

"What are you doing here?" she moaned up at him, and then Lytell flexed 
forward, sending his immense cudgel firing hotly along her anal passage 
again. "What ... aaaahhhhh ... are you ohhhhhhhhhh!" 

"Relax, my dear," Lytell panted behind her, kneading and squeezing her 
desperately writhing ass cheeks. "I invited Rock to join us, if I was 
successful in the first part of our little initiation this morning ... and 
it looks as if ... mmmmm ... I have been, more successful than I ... I could 
have ever portended!" 

"Uuuuhhhhh!" squealed Dawn as he thrust his rod into her ass-hole again and 
again. "What ... what initiation?" 

"Into the Jack and Jill Club," Lytell told her. "Leland said you most-likely 
wouldn't be adverse to joining, but we really couldn't come right out and 
ask you, now could we? So we prepared this little test.. . " 

So that was it! Dawn thought helplessly. I was right all along about Willard 
Lytell being a member of this ... this Jack and Jill swap club of 
Abbington's ... my God, it seems incomprehensible but it's true ... as true 
as Lytell 's lewd penis sodomizing my anus, sodomizing it so wonderfully 
that I'm churning my buttocks back harder and harder against his loins to 
drive his beautiful cock deeper into my bowels ... I'm lost, lost, and now 
I'm to be further degraded by Rock Dawson, kneeling before me with his giant 
flushed prick held in his thick hand, the monster leering at me as he is 
leering at me ... Yes, yes, I know what he is going to do: he's going to put 
his penis into my mouth, he's going to make me suck him, make me taste a 
male member for the first time orally... 

The idea strangely, suddenly, fascinated Dawn. She was going to be 
mouthfucked! Yet another barrier of her innocence has to be hurtled-no, 
destroyed, completely destroyed! She was about to be fucked by two strange 
men, two strange cocks-one in her ass-hole and one in her mouth! Subjugated, 
degraded, humiliated? Yes, but more than that, more she sensed than those 
simple emotions. She was to be taken on a wild, surrealistic ride to bliss 
by two cocks-not one, but two great cocks! Fucking her, fucking her, fucking 
her, lifting her to an orgasm of unequaled heights... 

"Here, Mrs. Ballard," Dawson told her, obscenely thrusting his loins toward 
her sweating, upraised face. "Take my prick in your mouth, Mrs. Ballard. 
Suck it, Mrs. Ballard. Suck my cock! Suck my cock, suck it, suck it!" 

Dawson rolled his hips lewdly, causing his hardened male shaft to sway just 
inches from Dawn's soft, moistly waiting lips. The tip of her tongue came 
out involuntarily to lick and wet the soft surface of those lips, and her 
eyes were fastened on the football player's cock as if it was some huge 
cobra's head and the lewd wet drubbing sounds of Lytell's sodomizing the 
lilting music of a fakir's hypnotic flageolet. 

Then-trance-like, without hesitation-she thrust her head forward and touched 
her lips to the slickly lubricated head of his cock, flicked her tongue out 
to tease over the unseeing glans eye. Wild tremors coursed through her, and 
she opened her mouth to ingest the head into the soft warm cavern between 
her teeth. It was good, good! It tasted bittersweet, deliciously piquant! 
Oh, it was lovely, better than she had ever expected, how could she have 
refused such a delectable treat all these years? Ignorance, sheer 
ignorance... 

She washed Dawson's cock lavishly, running her warm tongue along its 
underside to the coronal ridges and crown, playing and caressing it with 
every lapping stroke. She grazed its smooth rubbery head with her teeth, 
causing Dawson to moan in ecstasy, then return to the thick base and to the 
bloated sac of sperm which hung below, the wiry light brown pubic hairs 
tickling her tongue as she licked his scrotum and her saliva dripped 
excitingly along the organ. 

God, she loved to kiss his prick! Loved to taste him, taste his semen! She 
wanted all of him now, all of his cock filling her mouth as the thrusting 
Lytell's was filling her anal passage, and she opened her mouth wide and 
took the full expanded length of his rod deep into her throat. 

"Uhhhhhhh!" groaned Dawson as her lips touched his hirsute abdomen and she 
began to suck his cock with plunging back and forth strokes, wanting to draw 
the very essence of his being out of his balls along with his cum. 

Harder and faster, Dawn's mouth worked on the boy's cock, reveling in the 
tremendous delight of two hardened male cocks buried deep in her flesh. 
Dawson's hips churned wildly, and he reached forward to wrap his hands in 
Dawn's hair, pulling her head tighter to his groin, urging her on with 
little purls of pleasure. 

Lytell's balls smacked loudly against the wet, soft lips of Dawn's vaginal 
orifice below as his loins ground mercilessly against her full, firm ass 
cheeks. Then he drew his slender rod out just a little, watching with bated 
breath as the wet base appeared before his eyes. He moaned as he saw the 
head still sunk between the wide, tight-stretched pink-fleshed oval opening, 
and thrust forward again, his breath bursting from his throat as if his 
lungs were a blacksmith's bellows. A gasp of total abandoned lust rended 
from his throat, and he began sawing crazily in and out of her warm clasping 
rectal channel. 

He's going to cum soon, Dawn thought, and she wanted Rock Dawson to cum at 
the same time, wanted herself, to cum as well-the three of them, all 
cumming, cumming ... Her head flailed from side to side insanely, her lips 
and tongue and teeth wildly sucking and manipulating the football player's 
turgid pole as her jerking head bent it from side to side. At the same time, 
she was bucking back against Lytell's driving cock like a rutting bitch 
canine ... buffeting and sucking, buffeting and sucking, two cocks, groaning 
men all around her, wonderful enrapturement filling every pore in her body 
... this was heaven, this was Nirvana, this was Valhalla...! 

And then Lytell gave a sudden, high-pitched, almost feminine squeal and his 
pummeling rod drove forward even harder, working demoniacally with brutal, 
drubbing, sadistic lust into her rectum. "I'm going to ... to cum! God, Dawn 
my beauty, I ... I'm going to cuuuuummmmmmmmmm!" 

"Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, oh Jesus!" Dawson chanted wildly. "Me too ... me too 
... meeeeee tttooooooo!" 

And I ... so am I! Dawn's passion-fogged brain screamed in accordance with 
their cries. So am I ... cumming, yeessssssssss, 
cccuuummmiiiinnnngggg,aaaaaa.gggggghhhhhhhl 

She felt as if the old college president's cock was jammed against her very 
entrails as he jerked convulsively behind her. A great, searing surge of 
fiery hot semen erupted from his cudgel and flooded deep into her rectum, 
filling her belly, filling her quivering insides to overflowing ... and then 
more of the torrential fluid paroxysmed from the opening in Dawson's rigid 
prick, pouring into her throat, bloating her cheeks and forcing her to 
swallow hastily around his jerking member to keep from choking on his 
billowing seed as he jetted stream after warm stream from deep in his 
ejaculating balls.... 

Dawn's own orgasm stuck then, a wild kaleidoscopic release that exploded her 
juices simultaneously with the volcanoings of Lytell and Dawson, and she 
felt their seed and her juices rushing to commingle in her stomach and even 
her breasts. They flowed from her ass-hole and down her throat and up from 
her steaming cunt to become one, to blend in the ultimately perfect recipe 
of total satisfaction. She went a little insane then, carried on to those 
incomparable heights of rapture, of total and unabashed bliss, as the two 
male cocks drained luxuriously in her ass-hole and in her mouth... 

Much, much later-after Lytell and Dawson had bid her a fond goodbye, saying 
that she had passed her initiation into the Jack and Jill Club, passed it 
with flying colors. Dawn lay on the bed in the darkened bedroom, feeling 
completely fulfilled. She had no shame of any kind now, she decided, for she 
had truly, undeniably reveled in the lewd, salacious rape of her virginal 
rectum and her virginal mouth by an old, wrinkled man and a young, cocksure 
boy. And the perverted three-way coupling had excited her to an orgasm of 
her own unequalled in total abandonment. God, it been so wonderful, so 
inexplicably good! And she wanted it to happen again, she knew that. Again 
and again and again. 

She could scarcely wait, lying there, smiling in the semi-darkness, for Stan 
to come home so that she could tell him in lewd detail what she had done. 
Perhaps he would be a little angry at first, but not too much and it 
wouldn't last. Especially when she made love to him afterward, made love to 
him with every nerve and fiber in her body working to make it the finest 
lovemaking either of them had ever had. And it would be thus, for she loved 
her husband, truly loved him. And if sex was so magnificent, as it had been 
with Dawson and President Lytell, without love but only desire, then genuine 
love made it all the more exquisitely beautiful.... 

 CHAPTER 7 

Stan sprawled lazily in the hammock, gazing at the spring clouds in the warm 
sky, occasionally sipping from a gin and tonic Dawn had mixed for him before 
going shopping, and generally taking it easy. It was the next Thursday, 
exactly one week after the Edgewater's momentous get-together, and Stan 
sleepily mulled over his innocent thought of that night about hoping by this 
time he would be enjoying a well-needed rest. 

How true, how true, he thought. Testing and grading were over and all he had 
to do was lie around and gather his strength. It had been a wild and 
wonderful week, the nights and days spent in erotic games with the 
Edgewaters, and the balance of time spent in exploring the new and vastly 
deep changes in Dawn. He took another swallow of his drink and smiled, 
reminiscing back to the fantastic night he screwed her after she had 
"confessed" her part in the a trois orgy with Rock Dawson and Willard 
Lytell. Some admittance, he grinned to himself. Her eyes had sparkled and 
she had seemed to itch with the burning fire they had started in her ... the 
flames merely banked until his hot, swollen penis prodded them to life 
again. 

He was glad, in fact, that she had been introduced to some of the other 
members of the Jack and Jill Club, for he was beginning to get more and more 
curious about it as the time passed. There had been the initial shock of 
finding out that Dawn had finally been taken in the ass-hole, the sodomistic 
practice one of complete abhorrence to her up until then ... but many things 
had changed over the last seven days, and he attributed the breaking of her 
anal barrier as but one more example of the revolution. There had been the 
hurt of not being the first to nail her in the ass-but she had been correct 
in her argument that being the first really didn't matter. What did was the 
fact that she had at last discovered that avenue of sexual pleasure, that it 
was but one more item to add to her list of freedoms, and yet another 
beautiful way of expressing her love for him. 

Willard Lytell, college president ... and member of the Club. Stan shook his 
head, now chuckling softly at the idea of the old man still having the 
gumption to chase the women, still having the sexual prowess to please and 
satisfy. Rock Dawson wasn't so much of a surprise, for he was built like a 
bull moose and, as Stan remembered from school, always had his mind on the 
coeds during class. But Lytell ... good, old, mild mannered Lytell with his 
twinkling eyes and leathery wrinkled skin ... Dawn had said his withered 
penis had become like a steel pick. "Stan! Oh Stan!" 

He looked up and saw that his young, sweet wife was waving to him from the 
car door, two sacks of groceries in her hands. He hadn't heard her drive up, 
lost as he was in reverie, and somewhat shamefaced, he asked loudly, "You 
need any help, honey?" 

"No, stay right there. I'll be right out. I ... I have some news for you." 
She hurried to the kitchen entrance and disappeared inside the house with a 
slam of the screen door. There was a pause, and Stan began to wonder what 
she had on her mind, and then she appeared with a drink in her hand, walking 
across the lawn to him. 

Stan grinned at his young, sweet wife's pulchritudinous beauty as she 
approached. She wore the shortest of white shorts, her long tapered legs 
slightly tanned from the sun and the flat plane of her stomach adding 
contrast to the band of modesty. She had taken one of Stan's old shirts, cut 
off the sleeves and hemmed it, and was wearing it with its tails tied 
beneath her breasts. Her tits bobbed slightly, indicating that she had worn 
no bra to the store, and Stan thought how that provocative sight must have 
upset the elderly, bridge-playing set she had probably run into while 
shopping. 

"May I say that you are very appealing," Stan said, feigning a slow and 
courtly bow. "Would you care to go in the house, ma'am'selle and perhaps 
partake of the delights of the flesh?" 

Dawn giggled at his antics. "I thought you were tired." 

He smiled, "I was ... until you came." He saw her eyes and read the concern, 
or perhaps it was indecision, that was in them, and with a small frown he 
asked, "What's the news you had?" 

"Well, I ran into Faith in the market. She was buying some things for an 
outing that she and Leland were going on." 

"Yes? So?" 

Dawn bit her upper lip. "She invited us to join them." 

"Sounds wonderful. Where and when?" 

"At Abbington Lake, and the invitation is good for whenever we can get 
there." She stopped, pursed her lips, and then said softly, "It's ... it's 
with the Jack and Jill Club." 

"Oh." 

"We don't have to go if you don't want to." "Do you?" 

"I ... I think so," she replied hesitantly. "I've become a new woman. No, 
I'd have to say I've become a woman at last. Are you sorry?" 

"Not if it has made you happy." 

"Hasn't it made us both happy?" she hunkered down beside him, staring 
intently in his eyes. "I don't want to go if you feel wrong about it, and if 
you like, we could even stop seeing the Edge-waters the way we have. It's up 
to you." 

"I ... say we go!" he said suddenly. "There's a great deal of truth in the 
way you feel, and maybe the Jack and Jill Club will be an even better 
experience for us. In any case one try with their way won't kill us." Stan 
jumped out of the hammock, and grasping his wife around the waist with his 
left hand, he led her to the house. 

Later, as Dawn sat beside her husband in the car, she thought of how fast 
things were happening to them. They were speeding at a rate which made it 
almost impossible to absorb an experience before they were skyrocketed to 
another plateau. The only constant was the love she and Stan shared, and she 
did not want to endanger that, for all of the other sex she was having would 
have little meaning, little purpose unless it was tied into the greater 
splendor of true love. She gazed out of the window at the passing Illinois 
countryside, feeling the heat of the warm spring day upon her skin, and she 
throbbed with the intense passion she had discovered for her husband. She 
turned suddenly to Stan and blurted, "If we change partners today, Stan, I 
want you to remember one thing. Remember I love you. I'll love you more than 
ever, and when we make love afterwards, it will be making love, not just 
coupling, and it will be better than either of us could have separately." 

Stan grinned at her. "I know. And I love you, too." 

She peered out of the windows again, better for her impulsive affirmation of 
her feelings, yet still nervous in a tantalizing way. Today was an important 
one for her ... yes, for her and her husband as well. 

Today, by accepting the invitation from the Jack and Jill Club, she realized 
that she was going to lose the last wisp of inhibition, for there was always 
the idea that she could hide behind the rational of being drunk, or being 
overcome momentarily by passion, but by going to Abbington Lake she was 
admitting to herself, and others, especially to her husband, that she wanted 
sex for sex's sake. 

She brushed a strand of blond hair from her face. 

I'm going to a group swap, planning to revel in an activity which would make 
the hair stand on end of righteous blue-noses, but that didn't matter. She 
was willing to participate; more than willing, actually looked forward to 
it; for she felt driven by the need to divest herself of the last bonds of 
her previous existence. She had to completely emerge from the smother of 
Victorian prudery, as a caterpillar must emerge entirely from its cocoon 
before it can open into a butterfly. She was no longer the child of her 
mother and a product of her mother's mother-she was a woman of her own 
right, full-blooded, ripe, and alive! 

Yes, she wanted to ... fuck, and no longer did that horrid word make her 
cringe. It somehow described what she wanted perfectly, just as she 
preferred to call what she and Stan did as making love. Fuck ... fuck 
Leland, and God knows who else. She groaned unconsciously, for a shiver of 
fear coursed up her spine at the thought of other, strange cocks again and 
again violating the sanctity of her body, and a sudden welling of 
trepidation filled her much as the thought of meeting new people can terrify 
a timid, retiring girl. But the lubricating fluids deep in her womb began 
their production in anticipation, and seeped from her vagina. She wriggled 
in her seat, trying to avoid the tingling sensors of pleasure which tickled 
her skin by moving closer to the protective warmth of Stan. 

Dawn placed her hand on Stan's leg and saw that he reacted to her touch with 
a gasp and shudder. She smiled and the prurient desires which were charging 
through her made her move her hand higher, rubbing her palm along the top of 
his inner thigh. Stan moaned and looked down at her tracing fingers and he 
spread his legs wider to allow her greater access. 

"God, Dawn," he moaned, "Not here. I'll crash the car!" 

"Don't mind what I'm doing," she teased, knowing full well he could not 
break his mind from her fondlings, "You keep your eyes on the road." 

She touched the outline of his penis through his pants. He jerked the wheel 
and the outline grew wider and longer, his cock stiffening in his underpants 
until he thought it was going to break in half. 

"Want me to stop?" she taunted, her fingers fumbling for the zipper. Stan 
gurgled low in his throat. Her hand insinuated itself inside his pants once 
the zipper was down, and then she slid under the band of his shorts. His 
flesh was hot and palpitating with desire. "Want me to stop, Stan?" she 
repeated. 

"Yes....." he wheezed. "I can't drive when you're ... you're..." 

She located his eager cock with the magic probe of her touch and it jumped 
convulsively when she stroked its bloated head with her fingernails. 

"Yes, please stop..." Then he groaned. "No, no ... I love the feel of your 
hand ... Ohhhhhh." 

Dawn reveled in the act of touching her husband's penis, not believing that 
this was her ... the same woman who a week ago would have reviled at the 
idea of such a wanton act. She worked his cock around and then unbuckled his 
pants, laying apart the flaps of his trousers so she could see the full, 
upward growth of his magnificent, passion-tinted rod. It waved provocatively 
in the furrow of his lap, and the cool air rushing across its rigid shaft 
made Stan wince with delicious agony. Then her hand was once more on his 
prick, moving the skin up and down in swift beats, her fingers curled in a 
steel grasp which made the friction of her jackings liked satin sandpaper to 
him. 

"If ... if you ... don't ... stop that," Stan said through gritted teeth, 
"I'm ... going to ... cum all over myself!" 

Dawn laughed lightly, and with the inherent ability of a born courtesan, she 
changed her touch to a lighter, more provocative feathering, which stopped 
Stan from reaching a climax, but spiraled him farther and farther up the 
ladder pf rapture. He kept on driving somehow, and the miles glided by with 
Dawn enjoying the work at hand, and Stan enjoying it even more. The county 
highway stretched on into the afternoon sun. 

Abbington Lake was Northwest of the town, and the little private beach they 
were headed for was on the nearest shore as the county highway traversed the 
bottom end of the lake. Stan turned off the highway onto a gravel road, 
stopped by a chain which crossed the road between two posts, one of which 
had a weathered sign proclaiming this was private property and to keep out, 
and parked beside a group of other cars that had been pulled off the road 
into the grass. 

"This looks like the place, all right," he said as he put on the hand brake. 

Dawn, her hand still tightly wrapped around Stan's pleading cock, stopped 
her massaging torture and smiled at him. "It's where Faith said the party 
was going to be ... and there, beside the blue sports car. Isn't that the 
Edgewater's car?" As Stan turned to look, she snuck back a hand to the still 
erect, still displayed penis, and she chucked it under its coronal ridge 
much as she might have a baby's chin. "Want me to make you cum, darling?" 
she said throatily. 

Stan groaned. "God ... you've been playing games with it for the past ten 
miles. It doesn't need any help ... it'll shoot off by itself!" 

Dawn laughed. "Then let's save it," she said. "I'll get the things, and you 
bring the liquor, and let's get going!" 

Stan flinched. "But ... I'm about to explode! I can't go down there like 
this!" 

"Zipper up," she said liltingly. "I'm getting out. See you down there!" 

"Hey!" 

Dawn opened the door and reached behind the seat for the sack of groceries. 
It contained some hot dogs, buns, and marshmallows, as well as some homemade 
German potato salad which she had left over and thought to bring along. She 
waved to her obviously frustrated mate, and started down the path which ran 
to the beach on the other side of the chain. She went slowly, deliberately, 
knowing that Stan would soon catch up, and he did, carrying the sack with 
the two quarts of Chianti. 

"What a lousy thing to do to a guy," he grumped at her. 

She laughed, enjoying her little joke, and knowing that Stan took it in the 
vein it was intended. She kissed him, rubbing her free left hand along his 
still bulging crotch, and he kissed her back most fervently. 

They walked along the winding trail for another few yards, finally coming to 
a crest of a hillock where they could see to the lake below. The trail 
meandered through the scrub to the lake's edge, which had been formed of 
sand by man once the dam had reached its proper water level. They could make 
out a burning fire and the cluster of people around it and the few others 
who were cavorting nearby in the clear, still water. 

"C'mom! I'm already hot enough to go in the water!" Dawn said, and grabbing 
Stan's one hand, she started down the trail. 

"She's hot. . ! " mumbled the aroused husband as he followed. 

They stepped from the trail to the large boulders ringing the sand, and then 
jumped to the shore and started along to the campfire. It was still far 
enough away so that none of the group could be identified, but as they 
approached, a man stood up and started jogging toward them, and Stan 
recognized the form as Leland Edgewater. 

Edgewater met them halfway, and with a cheery greeting, he took the 
groceries from Dawn. "Hey, you two, I was beginning to wonder if you were 
ever going to make it! The others are all here, and the meeting is about to 
start." He patted Dawn softly on the rump and then peeked into the bag. 
"More hot dogs, I see." 

"What's the matter with that?" Dawn said a little defensively. 

"Nothing," he bantered. "I was just hoping for steaks." 

Edgewater introduced the Ballards to the group, but it was really 
unnecessary. Stan and Dawn knew most of the other members from college, and 
except for a little surprise at the identity of some, they felt right at 
home at once. There was Willard Lytell, of course, and Rock Dawson. Willard 
had an older woman along, a sea captain's widow from the town who Stan had 
taken his laundry to before he had married. Her name was Delores, and Stan 
never did learn what her last name was. Rock had a peroxided cheerleader 
along named Sherry Dickerson, who simpered a lot but had breasts of enormous 
proportions. That was why she had been picked for cheerleader: the opposing 
team would stare at her chest as she bounced up and down on the sidelines, 
oftentimes unnerving them to the home team's benefit. 

Faith stood up, and her eyes widened as she saw the still-burgeoning cock of 
Stan's as it bulged in his pants, and she licked her lips hungrily. She had 
been sitting next to a boy that had once dated Dawn before she had hooked 
Stan, and he seemed more nervous when he saw her than the Ballards were at 
being newcomers. His name was David Astor, and Dawn smiled slightly at him, 
thinking how he had once confessed his love for her and her subsequent cold 
decline. Well, it looked as though he was going to get a chance at his dream 
after all, she thought. With an assenting smile. 

The seven had been on beach blankets, drinking beer and smoking, and in 
spite of the slight breeze in the air, Stan thought he detected a sweet odor 
as though cream corn was burning nearby. They all had bathing suits on, 
although Sherry, the young college cheerleader, had hers unhooked and was 
holding it to her giant breasts with her cupped hands, and David Astor had a 
stain on the front of his suit which looked suspiciously new. 

Then there was a shout and splashings from the lake, and turning, Stan and 
Dawn saw three others emerge from the water, one of them throwing a large, 
multi-colored beach ball into the surf as he ran. 

All three were naked. 

Two were women, their naked breasts jouncing and their running awkward, and 
the other was Norman Pierson, professor of music. He was balding but still 
handsome, with youthful freckles, and a light, engaging personality. As he 
approached, Dawn thought that he looked better without clothes on, for his 
stomach was trim and there was no spare fat on his body. He had, she was 
amazed to find, the longest cock she had ever seen! 

It was limp, but it dangled and swayed a good four to five inches in length 
even when soft, and a shudder went through her at the thought of what that 
sausage-like monster must be like when it was extended to its full erected 
size. 

With Pierson was his wife, Alice, who was a buxom brunette with firm, 
good-looking breasts and thick thighs which would cradle a man like an 
octopus as he fucked her. Her pubic mound drained water in a trail after 
her, for it was thick and bushy. The slender, willowy girl next to her was 
Astor's recent wife. Her name, Fran, and her quick, excitable nature had 
earned her the nick-name, "Frantic," but she was a sweet girl nevertheless, 
caught by the rebound of David's unrequited love for Dawn. Still, she had 
made him a good wife, and from all the reports, they were quite contented 
and happy. She had small, apple-sized breasts that were all goose-bumpy from 
the water, and a thin sparse line of pubic fuzz, almost nonexistent, which 
made her look as though she had shaved her pubes and it was just beginning 
to grow back again. Stan could see the clear outline of her pink, full cunt 
lips as they angled from her lower belly to the darkened shadows of her 
buttocks, and he savored inwardly the idea of spreading those lips and 
sucking the sexual honey from her vagina which he intuitively knew would 
flow from there. 

David staggered slightly as his wife approached and he cupped one small 
breast and squeezed passionately as she kissed him. She rubbed up against 
him and moaned softly, and the display of sexuality seemed to enervate the 
others. Faith and Lytell kissed, and Rock took his cheerleader back to their 
blanket where she removed her top and then stripped off the narrow cloth 
around her loins. Rock, who was on his back, leaned up on his elbows, and as 
she straddled his mouth, he kissed her cunt tenderly. 

Edgewater said, "Sit down, Stan, and start enjoying yourself. In a couple of 
hours the sun will be down and then the fun really begins." He turned to go, 
then thinking of something else to add the pivoted and said, "Oh, would 
either of you care for a smoke?" 

"Smoke?" asked Dawn. 

"Marijuana. Pot. A little grass." Edgewater chuckled. "Delores brought some 
from Chicago. She goes up there and knows some friends of her late husband 
who work on the tramp steamers. Delores meets all the boats." 

Stan turned to Dawn, "What do you say, honey?" 

"Well, we came here on speculation," she said. "Why not? It seems to be the 
thing to do on campus these days." 

"Enough said," Edgewater grinned. He went over to Delores who smiled at the 
Ballards after Edgewater told her what he wanted, and then she reached into 
her large straw purse and brought out a cellophane bag full of the greenish 
brown weed, and cut into tobacco-like strands. Then she produced a little 
cigarette rolling machine from the bag, along with some wheat-straw papers, 
and putting the paper and tobacco into the machine, she made two firmly 
packed regular sized cigarettes. Edgewater returned with them and gave one 
each to Stan and to Dawn. "Here, let me light them," he said, holding a 
match up for them. 

Stan sucked in the sweet smoke, holding his breath as he had been 
instructed, letting the swirling fog envelope each of the pores in his 
lungs. At first he didn't feel anything, but as the cigarette burned down 
through use, a pleasant euphoria overcame him. He smiled and blinked his 
eyes rapidly, loving the sensation, thinking that it was much like being 
high on liquor, but only nicer. 

Dawn choked at first, but then she followed her husband's example and soon 
was floating on a shimmering cloud of consciencelessness. She smoked another 
joint, getting it from Delores herself, and found that walking in the sand 
was a great deal easier while under the influence. She felt as though her 
feet barely skimmed the ground, her physical being as uncaring as her mental 
state, or so it appeared to her drugged mind. The fogs of forgetfulness 
swirled through her brain, giddying her, making her think she was unchained 
from every care and worry of her life. She thought that everything everybody 
said was hilariously funny or deeply moving, and as she looked over the 
waters of the now dusky lake, she was enraptured by the little ripples and 
waves caused by the breeze. Time seemed to stand still for her, and she 
could spend eternity in the contemplation of whatever caught her imagine. 
Joy was intense and euphoria the essence of her soul. She tripped over the 
sand, flitting from one naked or near naked couple to another.... 

Stan was able to combat the phantasmagoric effects a little better, just as 
he had a bigger capacity for liquor. Nevertheless, he still found his senses 
deepened and his desires multiplied. As he walked to Edgewater, who was in a 
heavy conversation with Willard Lytell, he figured that he didn't feel much 
different than when he was inebriated and thought he could drive. He always 
became the greatest sports car driver in the world after he drank, and being 
on this pot, he concluded, gave him the same delusion of infallibility. 

"...Garbage, that's all it is, Willard," Edge-water was saying, "They pour 
tons of it in this lake. I say we can't afford to develop this land around 
the lake, not to a bunch of tract house schemers." 

Stan paused to listen, as he was interested himself in the local problem of 
pollution control. There had been much controversy lately on whether the 
town council should approve some permits for housing around the shores and 
bluffs of Abbington Lake, and Stan had read everything he could in the small 
weekly paper and had attended the council meetings, but here were two 
intelligent men discussing the issue. The marijuana seemed to increase his 
sense of urgency about the matter, and intently, he listened. 

Willard Lytell coughed and then replied, "You can't stop pollution Leland, 
any more than you can stop progress. Now, Abbington needs the revenues and 
business profits which can be gotten from the people who would move here, 
and we cannot deny others the right to recreational facilities they 
otherwise wouldn't have." 

"What a crock of shit, Lytell," Edgewater snapped, "And pardon my English, 
but I will not accept any so-called fact that we can't stop dirtying our own 
nests. I say that as time goes on, clean and unsoiled places are going to be 
at a premium, and we have to start right now preserving the last hold-outs 
of our national heritage." 

"I'm on the city council, as you know, Leland, and I can tell you that none 
of us, me included, disagree with what they are saying. We also have to 
compromise. It's the story of politics. I'm afraid, and besides, the 
subcommittee which has been set up to form pollution laws for this area will 
come up with strong, effective legislation." 

"That committee is little more than a do-nothing appeasement, who'll throw 
away this beautiful spot in the name of your goddamned compromising 
politics. And this is only one small symptom of a world-wide disease! If 
Faith and I ever have children, I don't know where the hell I could send 
them to get away from the smog and sewage and poison. 

Edgewater was about to continue when Dawn approached, and with her was a 
large Doberman pinscher, jet black and well muscled. "Hi!" she said. "Look 
what I found." 

"Ah, Rock's dog. His name's 'Alexander the Great,' Dawn. Friendly, isn't 
he?" 

"Sure is. We've been playing fetch down the beach, but I got tired. What are 
you up to here?" 

"A little discussion on pollution, dear," Stan explained. "Everybody agrees 
it's a problem, but the methods of solution differ." He turned to Willard 
Lytell and stroking his chin, he said thoughtfully, "You made a point a 
moment ago about not being able to stop pollution anymore than progress, and 
then you, Leland, talked about raising children as the world becomes more 
crowded, and quite frankly, I have to agree with both of you." 

"I don't understand," Lytell said. 

"I simply mean that we can never stop pollution, just as you think, until we 
learn how to control our population. Fertility, which up to now, has been 
the blessing of mankind, is now the curse, for as the population increases 
in the staggering numbers it has been, that automatically means more houses, 
more schools, more cars, more cities, roads, factories, and concomitantly, 
more wastes." 

Edgewater scoffed. "You'll never get the urges of man to reverse themselves 
after a cultural tradition of tens of thousands of years." 

"We're going to have to. The pollution we are complaining about is merely a 
symptom-a serious one, true-but the symptom of the disease of too many 
people. The first billion humans weren't around until 1830, LeLand, but by 
1930 there were 2 billion. Just think: complete doubling in one hundred 
years, and how there's 3V2 billion, and at present geometric growth, there 
will be 7 billion by the end of the century, and an addition 5 billion added 
every five years thereafter. This could bring the world to a standstill!" 

"I see." Lytell frowned, then rubbed his brow. "What you would like to have, 
therefore, is strict pollution laws now, and some kind of federal 
legislation to bring the growth rate down to zero." 

"No more births?" Edgewater said in a shocked voice. 

"No, just that the births would equal deaths, and that there would not be 
any more increase. Face it, love no longer makes the world go around, 
Leland; on a world scale it's a horror story, and "family planning" is going 
to have to change from a personal choice to a national control. It's the 
only way we can save ourselves, much besides this particular lake..." 

Dawn, mind blown on the pot and finding her interests wandering to 
pleasanter subjects, looked around for more stimulating companionship. 
Delores was busy rolling more joints. Sherry and Pierson were busy on a 
blanket, doing something which was hidden by the growing dusk but which was 
causing great groans and mewls to rise from their locked embrace. Fran and 
Alice were in a lover's clinch, worshipping Sappho as they kissed and 
fondled their respective vaginas, and Faith was writhing on the sand, her 
fingers busy in her cunt as she masturbated while watching Pierson arid 
Sherry. 

Then Dawn looked over to the water and happily caught the shadowy outlines 
of two others, which could only be Rock Dawson and Astor splashing in the 
temperate lake, throwing what looked like one of the Chianti bottles back 
and forth and taking great swigs from it as they did. Astor fell down 
heavily in the water losing the bottle, causing Rock to laugh loudly, and 
Alexander the Great, recognizing his master's voice, woofed and started 
loping toward him. Dawn turned one more time to hear Lytell expostulate on 
the problems of proper laws being kept up to date, and then she ran after 
the Doberman. 

"Hey!" she shouted at the water's edge, "Got room for one more?" 

"Sure, come on in, but you'll have to strip first!" yelled Rock in return. 

"I don't think I can trust you if I'm in the nude," she giggled, already 
untying her shirt and yanking it off. Her breasts felt like balloons of warm 
air as they were set free from the restraining material. 

"Why's that?" Rock asked leeringly. 

"Because," Dawn said, wriggling her hips to slide the shorts down, "because 
you'll be naked, too, and you'll get ... an erection!" 

Astor laughed appreciatively. "She knows us, Rock!" 

Dawn was a little shocked by her sudden crudity and boldness, at her 
all-too-willing nakedness, but the drug had affected her mind too well. She 
was burned by the overwhelming desire to be FREE ... to swing and shout and 
screw to her heart's content, and love every sweet, musical moment of it. 
She ran into the surf, the giant Doberman barking as he followed, and then 
Rock caught her about the waist and hugged her. 

" "It's not the cold water, either," she tittered as she felt his eager, 
thrusting cock rub her belly and thigh. She grabbed it for a teasing second. 
"Oooooo, no ... it's not the cold water that's made you that way!" 

"No, it's not," Rock growled in her ear. "It's that delicious pussy of yours 
that gives me such a bone." 

Dawn's wet, pink tongue darted out like an angry snake and she kissed the 
hairy chest of Dawson, rubbing his little nipple around her mouth as a man 
might hers. 

My pussy is on fire! she thought. Is this what pot does to women? Makes them 
vibrate with desire, makes their insides molten lava and their vaginas 
volcanoes of lust? I can't stop myself from wanting him.. .from wanting 
Astor and Leland and Willard and Pierson ... all of them arid anything else 
male... 

As Rock and she writhed in the water, their hands and lips hot and frantic 
upon one another's fevered skin, she asked herself if this was right, if 
this is what she truly desired, and every question was answered with an 
immediate, overpowering "YES!" She was the woman incarnate at last, 
absolutely unfettered, completely empowered to fill any quivering command of 
her lusting passions, and ... the most import part aoub that was that from 
now on THERE WOULD BE NO SHAME! NO GUILT! NO HUMILIATION OR AGONY! 

She could do anything she wanted to do, and instead of being castigated, the 
others around her and she herself would only praise and bless her actions. 
What do I want! her heart pounded, What fiendish, debauched, carnal 
perversion do I wish performed right here, right now. with this man-beast? 
The thought of Rock and his magnificently enormous ax handle of a cock sent 
a thousand tiny shivers through her mind, and lasciviously she licked her 
lips. Finding them saliva wet, she realized that she wanted to feel that 
gorgeous penis between her lips sliding between her teeth and burying deep 
in her throat. Without a second thought, her mind transformed by the 
marijuana and passion into a nightmarish hedonistic den of lust, she said to 
Rock in a throaty purr: 

"I'm going to suck you, Rock," she smiled moistly at him, "I'm going to take 
that mammoth prick of yours and suck that cum like it was snake venom and I 
was sucking it from you to save your life. I'm going to suck your balls dry, 
and if I can, suck them clear out of your cock." 

"Jesus," groaned Rock, caught in the throes of her salacious words. "Yes, 
yes ... suck me!" 

"On the beach," she said. "You, me, and Astor ... let's go on the beach 
where we can spread out.. . " 

Dawn led the way out of the lake, holding onto Rock's bone-handled monster 
while she slipped her other hand to her own frothing cunt. Yes, oh yes ... I 
can't wait ... his cock is so excited for my mouth that it's doing a St. 
Vitus's dance in my hand, and my own pussy is alive and flowing like a 
flume.... 

Astor, panting raggedly with expectation of the delights, overcome by the 
desire to copulate with this woman he had so long had a crush on, stumbled 
from the surf, his own hardening cock leading the way, wavering like a 
water-diviner's rod. The dog leaped around them, and then they all sunk to 
the sand. ... 

 CHAPTER 8 

Stan rose from the still smiling Sherry, who was splayed with sweat slick 
legs upon the blanket, her eyes tightly shut and her mewls of overwhelming 
passion still bubbling from between her clenched teeth. In the glimmer of 
the moonlight, Stan could see her dark thatch of pubic hair glistening with 
his cum juice and saliva, and then his own groin which was just as wet and 
slippery. His cock was still semi-hard, even though he had ejaculated in the 
girl twice so far, and he was tempted to fuck her again; her tight, warm 
pussy being so good. 

He went down on his knees, leaning over her prostrate form like a jackal 
awaiting his feast, rubbing his moistly sheened cock with his hand to excite 
it to full erection again, and Sherry stroked her body and breasts with her 
hands, writhing slightly and moaning. He paused, then began lowering himself 
to her cuntal mouth, aiming his swollen penis like it was a war-headed 
missile. 

"No ... no ... lover," groaned Sherry, "Let me rest ... I've had it for 
awhile ... I"m sore from your beautiful mammoth prick ... oooooohhhhhh ... 
let me rest...." 

Stan grinned maliciously down at the girl, gloating in his prowess. She was 
satisfied, at least for a little while, though he was sure that soon she 
would be begging for more. In the meantime, there were others ... so many 
others... 

He got to his feet, his still burgeoning cock standing from his lower belly, 
wavering in the darkness like the snout of a ferret hunting a new victim, 
and then turning, he talked off. Sherry put her hands to her defenseless 
crotch which had been so completely vandalized, and turned on her side, 
still smiling ... still content ... and slept the sleep of satisfaction. 

It had turned into a wild bacchanal, Stan thought as he scanned the beach 
for more action, a thoroughly carnal and licentious orgy rivaling anything 
he had ever heard of in Ancient Rome. While he and Lytell and Edgewater had 
been discussing pollution and the causal-effect relationship with 
overpopulation, Fran had approached surreptitiously and calmly began to 
slide his pants down. Edgewater and Lytell had begun to laugh 
good-naturedly, and Stan, blushing at such an overt, blatant act, allowed it 
to continue. 

Fran had said nothing, simply grinned up at him as she squatted, removing 
his pants, shoes and socks with practiced ease, and then rising slightly on 
her knees, she began to lick his penis and balls with sweet, tender strokes 
of her tongue. He groaned, his cock bursting into full erection, as it was 
still tingling from the workout his wife had given it, and incensed from the 
nakedness of the three in the water and the obvious reasons for being at the 
beach. Stan's mind began to boggle, his head whirling with the softly 
perverse lickings, and then she was crawling on her flanks, wedging her head 
between his legs, licking lower and lower around his testicles, making them 
jerk and jump with agonizing pleasure. He couldn't help himself ... he began 
to squat slightly as she painted his inner thighs and coated his scrotum 
with her saliva, and then she began to breath heavier and heavier, moaning 
slightly... 

Stan was tempted to lie down, but she pinioned herself to his legs, and he 
could only wince from the fantastic mouthing and look sheepishly at his 
fellow faculty members, who were grinning widely at his predicament. Then 
she cupped the cheeks of his ass, kneading them, molding them to her touch 
as though they were mounds of modeling clay, and she made him sit a little 
lower upon her face. 

Suddenly her tongue slipped up and connected with the sphincter ring of his 
ass-hole. 

"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!! ! ! ! " he groaned aloud, her flickerings causing 
such a beautiful, body-enveloping charge that he could imagine she was using 
an electric probe rather than the wet, soft pinkness of her tongue tip. His 
hands clenched and unclenched at his sides and he revolved his buttocks upon 
her mouth, feeling her nose imbedded near his coccyx, and her sucking lips 
and stabbing tongue rendering his ass-hole into jelly. 

Edgewater made the next move. He stripped off his shorts where he stood, 
flinging the elastic garment aside with an abandoned cry of heathen lust, 
and then he stooped and began to kiss the outstretched Fran. She, in the 
process of kissing Stan's anal passage, had put her legs out, using her 
shoulders and arms and hands to clasp herself to his rear end like a 
starfish upon a clam, and Stan could see her sweet cunt peaking through the 
slender growth of her pubic hair directly below him. Her legs were churning 
in the sand ... or were until the bulk of Abbington's College Psychology 
professor fell upon her pussy and began to suckle it as she was sucking 
Stan. She cried and bit one of Stan's ass cheeks from the wonderful 
explosion in at his desperately working anus with renewed effort. 

Alice, her lesbian lover of a few minutes before ran across to them, 
squealing with delight: "A chain! A daisy chain!" Everybody join the 
group-grope!" 

And indeed, she sunk to her knees, wriggled around in her naked splendor 
until her lips were touching Edgewater's cock, and then slipped his 
gargantuan sausage into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down frantically 
as though by coming late, she had to make up for it. Edgewater growled and 
burrowed deeper in the loins of Fran, who by this time had stretched her 
legs over his shoulders, offering the full expanse of her hungry cunt to his 
voracious mouth. 

Then Lytell had gone bare and threw himself down upon Alice, chewing and 
gobbling in her box, stroking his long, old, cucumber-looking penis as he 
did. Then Sherry came with Pierson, and Sherry straddled the legs of Lytell 
and sucked his throbbing cock and Pierson began to eat her. ... 

Stan was the first to cum, spewing his steaming seed in a jetting arc which 
splashed down upon Fran's naked belly, pooling in her navel, and dribbling 
down to soak her pubic triangle. Edgewater didn't seem to notice, but went 
on sucking and kissing her crotch as she and then he came, and then like the 
links in a real chain, his bursting cum filled Alice's mouth and she 
screamed her enrapturement and wriggled against Lytell, who in turn popped 
his white hot sperm deep into Sherry's hungry gullet. She almost buried 
Pierson's face in her unquenchable cunt, and he, as if the last nozzle on an 
oddly fashioned hose, blew his balls onto the thirsty sands. 

Other games followed, and in the process, Stan ended up with the seemingly 
insatiable Sherry Dickerson, and then she gave up and decided to rest, and 
he was questing more ... and more ... and more. ... 

He crossed the sands, stepping over couples locked in the multitude of 
different love embraces, skirting others who because of their formations, 
were too high or active to step over. There seemed to be a commotion farther 
down the beach, he saw, the writhing and moans of ecstatic indicating that 
the group was in the throes of some fantastic, overwhelming sexual 
fermentation ... three guys; no, two guys and a girl and a dog! 

His heart leaping with the sudden urge to join in the primeval debauchery, 
he raced down the beach until he was close enough to see what was actually 
happening. Stan stopped short, the air bursting from his lungs in sudden 
abject horror, his limbs trembling from the carnal degeneracy of the scene, 
his, eyes recoiled by the venial, insalubrious depravity. He staggered back, 
a cry of pure wretchedness tearing from his seared vocal cords, his arms 
flung across his face to shield the decrepit cancer of their moribund 
appassionato from his blighted mind. 

"No ... Oh God ... no!" he cried to the heavens above. "Not this ... not my 
lovely sweet young wife, sinking to such decadent corruption!" 

OH God what have I caused? Stan's mind asked sickly. His brain was a 
seething turmoil as he watched what his wife was doing on the beach, and the 
idea that she was whimpering and purring with increasingly prurient bliss 
from her carnal acts made him blanch with con-triteness. 

It's all my fault! I am the one who started this salacious carnival ride 
when I allowed Faith to seduce me. I could have stopped it then, should have 
stopped it, but no, my brains are all between my legs. No I have only myself 
to thank, my own sexual stupidity, for finishing in this wicked and 
perverted fetidness. It is a more immoral act than I could have ever dreamed 
of and worse ... DAWN IS ENJOYING IT! 

* * * 

When Dawn had stepped from the waters of Lake Abbington, arising from its 
pearly essence like Botticelli's "Birth of Venus," her marijuana drugged 
mind was intent on only one thing. Taste that cock of Dawson's ... rummage 
his shaft around her mouth and lick it with her tongue and suck it until he 
opened the floodgates of his balls and drowned her in hot, sticky, male 
semen! 

"Lie down, Rock, let me put my lips on your cock. ... I'll suck you and suck 
you..." 

Rock groaned, his tormented penis bloating into still heavier rigidity in 
Dawn's hot little grasp. For extra measure she began to stroke it back and 
forth, making the foreskin pull back over its monstrously bulbous head, 
giving the head the appearance of some kind of sea creature sticking out of 
its cave. But Rock was able to control himself enough to pant out, "No ... 
no, not yet, Dawn....." 

"But I want to!" Dawn wailed. 

"You sucked me off before. Let's do something different." 

"What? WHAT?" she screamed, the turmoil of sexual arousal enslaving her to 
his slightest whim. "Anything, Rock ... name it! You want to fuck me in the 
ass-hole? like Lytell did? Yes, yes, I'd love that!" 

Without any prompting, Dawn dropped to her knees then raised her rear end 
until her buttocks wavered enticingly in the air. Dawn kept her head down in 
the sand, her body a helpless toy for Dawson to use in whatever bestial 
fashion he favored. And she wanted him ... she wanted him to stick his 
gorgeous cock into her soft, resilient rectum and shoot, his load of hot, 
sticky cum far up into her bowels. 

Rock dropped behind her and spread her pulsating ass cheeks wider and Dawn 
felt his terribly huge, viscid cock slide along the soft yielding valley of 
her buttocks. Then he ground the head of his lancer-like penis along the 
narrow valley of her quivering ass, pressing her soft cheeks of flesh around 
it like a tasty sandwich of perversion. He then leaned forward and kissed 
the ridges of her backbone and Dawn trembled from his wet contact. His full 
lips puckered and he traced his saliva down the full length of her buttocks 
and down, deep within the globoidal area. 

Dawn trembled, waiting his painful thrustings, but none came. Instead he 
dropped lower with his mouth, sending warm and tender caressings up her 
loins as he tongued the soft, puckered entrance to her bowels. Rock crouched 
in the sand until he was in direct line with the pink fluted , ridges of her 
cunt, and to him it seemed as though the reddened folds parted and throbbed 
of their own volition and he could see the secretions which were moistening 
the tufted white sides. Dawn, lost in the salacious lappings of her nether 
regions, teasingly edged her ass farther back, salaciously spreading her 
legs to the football player. 

He in turn moved forward until his nose was but an inch from her downy soft 
pubic hair, which framed her cunt like the softest of Allah's beard. He blew 
gently into the dilated pussy and her cavern flowered in answer. She groaned 
and quaked and although she clenched her vaginal muscles together, a great 
feeling of enrapturement flooded her. There was another hot rush of exciting 
air, and her behind opened up to him in all its furry glory, caressed to 
surrender by the thousand needle-pricks of his touch, and she began to churn 
her naked troso with a bellow of pagan passion. 

Rock grinned obscenely into the wide valley of her ass. Almost ... almost 
... and then she'll get the surprise of her life! And it ain't going to be 
my prick rammed in her ass hole! He chuckled hollowly, then bent forward and 
pried the lust-twisted cheeks wider with his thumbs. Then he shot out his 
tongue and buried it deep within the splayed vagina, and he heard her gasp 
from the thrust and then with a smothering cry she leaned back more, her 
rosy cunt walls expanding and contracting around his probe. 

He worked behind the beauteous woman, making wet slushing sounds as he 
slavered, and her cries turned into a long, low, monotonous wail. He sucked 
and teased the sweet passage gleefully with his lips and teeth until she was 
almost out of her mind with salubrious euphoria. 

"MMMMMMmmmmmmmmm," Dawn mewled. Her mind and body were lost to the 
completely abandoned sensations of his mouthing, and her cunt flowed and her 
pussy milk mingled with Rock's saliva and trickled down her legs. She was 
going to cum and her whole being quivered with the anticipation of her 
momentous release. 

Rock sensed the impending orgasm and knew it was time to change the game. 
This was what he was waiting for! This would set him off to the moon-it 
always did, especially with new members. 

"Are ... are you ready for a special treat, baby?" Rock stammered in his 
passion. 

"Ohhhhhh ... yes, yes, yesssss! she gasped, "Anything!" 

"Then raise your ass high," he ordered. "F-For you are going to have the 
most beautiful fucking you will ever know!" 

"Yes! Yes!" Dawn cried, thrusting her buttocks as high as she could get it. 

"Alexander!" Rock called out sharply. "Now!" 

Before Dawn could fathom his strange cry, a weight was suddenly upon her 
back and something hard and wet and quivering slipped against her buttocks. 
Again and again the object floundered until she spread her legs farther 
apart and thrust back her completely expanded crotch. 

"Look at that, will you," Astor said, his words only a fuzzy, vague blur in 
Dawn's passion and drug blinded brain. 

"Jesus! She wants him!" Rock said in awe. "She really wants him!" 

Astor grinned wretchedly. "You called him Alexander the Great, didn't you? 
And isn't he?" 

The marijuana induced fog and the sexual torture of Dawson's mouth and 
fingers had worked their poisonous deeds. If Dawn had been aware of the 
conversation behind her, she wouldn't have cared; as it was, she was only 
cognizant of the strangely long and thin cock which suddenly soared up into 
her, spearing her hungry, lubricious pussy like a flint-tipped arrow. 

"AAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH!"shewinced.God, it was a heaven-sent miracle, dispatched 
to quell the hundreds of angry demons who rampaged inside her love-starved 
cunt. She cared not whose it was, just so long as it was a cock inside the 
core of her womanhood, a cock which would stay inside her forever. She heard 
the guttural groans of Dawson and Astor as they sat down on the sand and 
began to play with each other's penises, masturbating one another and 
watching the sight of the Doberman pinscher fucking Dawn Ballard. This was 
all in the faint background of Dawn's mind, for her lover was hammering her 
with pile driver thrusts that were reaching her very womb. And the thin cock 
began to swell within her. 

It was then that Dawn, bent on helping her magnificent male screw her into 
the beach, reached back to caress, and felt hairy forepaws clasping her 
back. 

Dear God! It's that dog! It's that huge dog fucking into me back there!" 
Dawn choked on a scream of horror, but only a small wail escaped. 
Alexander's canine cock is swelling inside me! It's growing bigger, filling 
my cunt like an expanding balloon! My God ... it's an inhuman machine ... .I 
can't take this! It is too terrible to believe that such a thing would be 
happening to me! 

The vile picture of the lewd dog mounting her filled her hazed mind. No ... 
no ... It wasn't possible! I am dreaming it in my drugged brain ... a 
horrible, repulsive nightmare... 

But she knew it was true, no matter if her-mind rejected the confession. She 
was deeply shamed, having plummeted to this basement of perverted lust ... 
An animal! Dear God! I must have lost my mind! I'm insane! FORGIVE ME, 
FORGIVE ME she screamed to herself, But I can't stop now! Oh God, it's too 
good ... I don't care any longer who or what is inside me ... it's too 
beautiful! I want to cum! I want to cummmmeeeee! 

She screamed out loud then, and heaved her ass hungrily back toward the 
humping Doberman's expanded weapon, her thighs trembling, her stomach 
quaking as if someone were pressing against it with giant pressures, her 
brain reeling insanely with the sensual reactions traversing her nerves. 

"Pound your ass!" blurted Astor, "Pound your ass!" 

"Yes ... yyyeessss ... yyyyeeeessssss," cried Dawn as Alexander rammed into 
her, his animal prick suddenly long, long ... and thick, thick inside her 
flooding cunt, those riveting lunges never letting up. 

Dawson squirmed around so that he could see every movement of his depraved 
dog, and there, right next to her wildly churning thighs, he set his eyes, 
gloating in his pet's fine fucking ability. He wormed his way to a better 
position, and then stretched out along side Dawn, his feet near her head, 
and gently took one of her hands and placed it on his gasping cock. It stuck 
from his loins, straight up in the night air with a reddened, unquenchable 
heat of a flame sword, and he wanted it satisfied the best way he knew how. 
... 

Dawn rested on her elbows now, jacking off Rock Dawson with her right hand, 
and after a moment, she was also clasping Astor's prick with her left hand. 
She moaned and twitched, a slave to the maddening drubbings of the dog, and 
loving the feel of two human cocks in her fingers. 

And that perfect scene of degenerate debauchery is what Stan came upon. His 
wife being fucked from the rear by a huge, black monster of a slavering dog 
... while she masturbated the two sadistic voyeurs. Stan's mind was in 
complete shambles by the sickening sight of what his wife was engaged in. 
The bitch! In embittered hurt and anguish, Stan watched with stupefaction, 
incapable of action for it was too late. 

Too late for anything, and Faith sucking his cock last week-the act which 
had started this lust-filled whirligig-meant nothing to him. Yet he knew now 
that the rendering of consequences which he had fostered by that act were 
endless, and he realized that the momentary joy cumming in Faith's mouth was 
not worth the price he was having to pay... 

Then, as though his mind had to assuage his guilt somehow, Stan began to 
find the scene before him strangely enticing. It was so awful, so ghastly, 
that it was almost desirable. In spite of his thorough repudiation of what 
Dawn was doing, he could not tear his gaze from her, and like a magnet of 
sex, she and her cohorts made his cock harden into a granite signpost, 
pointing the way to their coven of perversion. Stan could hardly breathe. 
The sight made his brain burst with both nausea and craving, and he thought 
his body would split in two from the pulls of the different polarizations. 

And as he stood awkwardly upon the beach, lost in their play of rampant 
abasement, he suddenly realized that he wanted her. Nay-he HAD to have her, 
had to join in the pillaging and rape and bestiality of his wife's passion 
contorted flesh, He wanted to rape her; yes, rape her for in doing so he 
would cleanse his mind of the shame and culpability he felt for being the 
causal seed of this horrible heinous corruption of her young innocence. And 
it would be rape, too, even if Dawn was wanting it. The obscene sight of her 
being fucked by Alexander while jacking off the two college boys had finally 
peaked his nerve-shattered mind to a lusting stage of no return, and his 
twitching penis bloated with anticipation. 

It was overwhelming him! He leaped across the sand to his wife, holding his 
cock with the clenched fingers of his right hand as though it were some 
Excalibur sword going into battle. "Suck me," he groaned, "Do you hear me, 
darling? I want you to put my cock in your mouth and have you suck me!" 

"YYYYYYeeeeeesssss," sighed she, her husband's lecherous command penetrating 
her almost insatiable brain, adding still more fuel of passion to her soul. 
"Yes, yes, darling! I have your cock in my mouth! Hurry!" 

Just the lewd idea of sucking her husband while Alexander fucked her from 
behind and she masturbated the two young men beside her made Dawn's body 
stir with lewd delight. She could feel the pit of her thighs and stomach hot 
and moist, and a tingling thrill raced through her bones and marrow, making 
her jerk against the dog still harder. Yes, this is what I have al-ivays 
wanted. Stan, my loving Stan, and others as well ... all at the same time! 
The perfect combination of sex and love ... Oh. I thank my God above for 
being born so lucky! 

Dawn looked upwards, seeing nothing except the highly erect, fully poised 
penis of her husband as it towered near her mouth. The moonlight played upon 
it, highlighting its ridges, and then Stan lowered himself to the sand, his 
quivering cock inches from her moistened lips, and to help her, he raised 
her head by the palm of his hand on her chin while he pressed the angry red 
head of his penis past her groveling lips. As if knowing what was happening 
in front of him, Alexander the Great gave an extra lunge forward, and by 
doing so, impaled Stan's thick penis in the wet, wonderfully warm recesses 
of her mouth. She felt his hugeness slither down her tongue and lodge 
against the back of her throat. 

"Suck, baby,". Stan wheezed harshly, "suck!" 

Stan looked down and all around him as he shoved his loins into his wife's 
contorted face. The salaciousness of the depraved sight caused him to jam 
his lust-hardened cock harder, and she sucked on it voraciously, her lips 
clinging grotesquely while Alexander fucked into her with his growing animal 
organ and she heaved her quivering white buttocks back toward it with wild 
tempoed fury. 

He could feel her tongue softly swirling at the apex of his withdrawal, the 
tip flicking magically across the tiny split of his glans, and then he 
flexed his buttocks, his head still raised, watching the crown of her own 
head bobbing up and down below, as simultaneously she worked her ass in 
hungry undulating circles and Alexander hammered his long, swelling cock 
into her, and she pistoned the cocks in her hands with machine-like 
consistency. 

It was a masterful sight, he thought, a blurred symphony of rapid sexual 
pummeling and manipulations. 

Dawn sensed his throbbing reactions and began to suck his prick a little 
harder, the tips of her teeth digging gently in the hardened, resisting 
flesh, leaving small white trails where they had scraped the blood from 
beneath the skin's surface. She saw from the corner of her eyes the 
twitching, writhing bodies of Astor and Dawson, and she responded with 
instinct alone as she whipped their frothing genitals to new pinwheels of 
ecstasy. Oh god, she was the most blessed of women! With her husband's cock 
in her mouth and Alexander's trained penis pounding into her seething cunt. 

The fury of the moment rose within Dawn as she tried to suck Stan's bloated 
penis with the great Doberman's rhythm fucking her from behind. Again and 
again Alexander slammed into her with hard long strokes, his massive cock 
caressing and pounding the smooth inner walls of her vagina, his blunt tip 
hammering his mark upon her cervix, pummeling harder as it jerked deeper 
into her. The beach and the lake were lit by strange colors, blinding and 
flashing before her, and mingling with the electricity shooting through her 
body. 

Suddenly Alexander began to howl in a shrill, weird tone, and then Stan 
started to groan, sending vibrations of his impending climax through his 
hardened shaft, advising Dawn that it was time! The thought alone made her 
choke! Such perfect harmony, for she, too, was nearly there! 

The two boys were the first to cum. Stan looked over at them, his own eyes 
mostly glazed by the heat of his building charge, and he saw both of them 
shoot their white sticky seed high in the air like two fountains gone mad. 
It burst up and out, Roman candles of lust, and then splashed around their 
bellies and groin. Strangled noises of their passion forced their way from 
their gullets. Stan moaned ... any minute ... any second now. ... He was, he 
was ... cummmmmmmmmiiiiiinnnnnnng!! ! ! ! 

He writhed his hips furiously. He seemed to be standing on his head. He 
watched as Dawn's lovely face worked, her lips straining, his prick soaring. 

"NNNNNnnnnnnnnoooooowwww!" he cried in a long, sighing moan. He emitted a 
needle-thin stream of hot semen from his balls in a never-ending torrent 
into her throat, and she gulped greedily, swallowing and swallowing 
furiously to keep pace with his streaming load, and her hands left the 
ejaculated boys to milk his shaft for more love juice. 

Dawn thrust her ass back at the panting brute's superbly expanded shaft 
buffeting into her inflamed orifice. Every muscle in her body contracted as 
she rose up and nearly to the side in an almost epileptic fit of 
concentration. She gulped and supped from her husband's jumping cock as her 
sphincter muscles clenched and opened like an angry fist. Her buttocks 
flexed to rock hardness as her orgasm hit. She gurgled a wailing scream deep 
in her chest as the power of her body unleashed at the moment she had been 
dying for. 

There was no time, no space, no motion-only the unbelievable pleasure of her 
climax as she was hit again and again by the spasmodic rampages of her 
muscles ... then soon, all too soon, it passed, with the dog's wildly 
plunging cock jerking with its raining sperm. She screamed suddenly and 
shoved back upon the dog's blasting penis, and the giant animal's tongue 
hung from his mouth as he spurted hard into her womb like a fire hose gone 
insane. Saliva dripped from Alexander's dangling tongue to the coating of 
sweat on her back, and she contracted her round buttocks uncontrollably, 
signaling the orgiastic upheaval going on deep in her belly. 

Stan stared in fascination as Dawn's cunt flowered with thick white cream as 
she milked and squeezed the dog, and the viscid liquid formed rivulets and 
ran down the backs of the ivory columns of her thighs to puddle in the sand. 
Her backsides glistened and then, exhausted, she fell forward on her face, 
and the rapidly deflating cock of the massive Doberman slipped from her 
ravaged cunt ... and a heavy black veil of unreality enshrouded her from the 
world around... 

Dawn awoke after a bit, and after finding Stan, she joined in the ensuing 
frivolity with abandon. Every conceivable way of making love tried-by twos, 
threes, fours-with and without Alexander, who was indeed the Great. But 
somehow she never reached that peak of emotional catharsis for Dawn that she 
had experienced with Stan and the dog and the other two males. Finally, when 
she and Stan were almost too tired to stand, he bundled their clothes 
together and together they walked slowly up the trail to their car, where 
they fell into a deep and warm sleep on the back seat. 

 CHAPTER 9 

The car was heavy with morning dew. Droplets ran down the windows and 
serpentine rivulets steamed on the metal body, the fast-rising sun 
evaporating them rapidly. Inside the car, Stan and Dawn stirred from their 
sleeping embrace. They stretched and yawned, and snuggled in one another's 
arms, then dozed fitfully until the sun had eaten away the protective 
coating of dew and streamed in to spotlight the lovers. 

"Mmmmmm," Dawn murmured, running her hands lightly over the strongly muscled 
body of the man, "Mmmmmmmm, I love you, Stan." 

Stan grinned languorously, like the Cheshire cat. He rolled on the narrow 
seat and clasped his wife to him and rubbed his pelvis in her crotch. She 
reached down and felt his cock, smiling at him as she noticed its tingling 
awakening. 

"Double mmmmm," she said. Then they kissed, long and hard and passionate. 
His arms went about her and her magnificent breasts thrust against his chest 
and he could feel her body quivering. Their lips and tongues grew 
increasingly warm and searching and then she broke away with a choking sigh, 
her eyes swimming. 

"God, I love you, Stan," she breathed huskily. 

His hands traced the soft outlines of her neck and chin then slid down to 
feel the contours of one full, pointed breast. She began to tremble and she 
seized his hand and slid it lower until it was stroking the silky softness 
at the very quick of her being. She pulled his head down and kissed him 
hungrily, expertly, her breath coming quickly, her half-closed eyes gleaming 
in the morning light. 

Stan felt her legs part beneath him on the seat cushion, felt the bone-hard 
tautness of his own body respond and his cock slide unerringly into the soft 
receptive cavern of her damp pussy. Her hands caressed and fondled him and 
her mouth melted against his in supplication and desire. Their bodies arched 
and flowed together, but not with the hot, plunging turbulence of the night 
before. ... 

No, their coupling was slow and easy and warm, the perfect touch to a night 
of convulsive ecstasy. They were liberated upon a fleecy cloud of 
pleasantry, a lingering wave of shuddering desire. But then it grew as they 
approached fulfillment, and Stan's body stiffened and held. Dawn's fingers 
tightened convulsively, digging into his back. Their bodies seemed to become 
mindlessly welded together in one long, wonderfully savage moment of 
sublime, deep satisfaction. 

They rested for a moment, drawing breath. 

The moment of peace, as their different orgasmic juices melded and 
coagulated ... he kissed her tenderly on her eyelids. 

"Darling ... darling," he whispered. 

"I ... love you," she murmured vaguely, almost asleep again. 

"When we came here yesterday, you asked me to remember something," Stan said 
softly in her ear. "You said to remember that you loved me and that when we 
made love afterwards, it would be the best because it would mean more ... 
and you were right, Dawn, my love, you were right." 

"Yes ... yes..." 

"For all the others, we are truly the only ones for each other." 

She nodded and smiled broadly, her eyes still shut. "Last night was fun, 
Stan. I want to do it again. But that's all it was, fun; and there's nothing 
wrong with that." 

Stan chuckled. "No, nothing at all. And when spring vacation is over and 
we're back at Abbington, we'll throw a couple of parties ourselves for the 
Club. Next term will be great, won't it?" 

"And after that, there will be the summer, and all those hot, lazy nights 
under the moon and stars..." she squirmed provocatively under him, immersed 
in the lurid dreams. "And next year, Stan, won't next year be fun, too?" 

He kissed her tenderly. "The new freshman class ... with all that tender, 
nubile cunt...." he groaned at the thought, "And the young bucks for you, 
Dawn, with their untested antlers, eager for the knowledge of higher 
education. You'll teach them, won't you dearest?" 

"With pleasure," she sighed. 

They collapsed in one another's arms, happy and contented in the new world 
they had discovered, ready to pass on their revelations with the fervency of 
missionaries to whomsoever sought the meaning of living. 

Stan had an excellent career ahead of him at Abbington, one in which he 
would have ample opportunity to devote to the Jack and Jill Club. The 
influential men who would make or break his future were all members of this 
select group of free souls, and it was obvious that the Ballards had made a 
strong impression with their readiness and willingness to join in the 
extracurricular activities. Dawn looked up once, briefly, to smile at her 
husband, proud of his new position of respect within the scholarly 
community, and then contented and secure, she burrowed in his loving arms, 
at peace with the world and herself. 

Stan and Dawn gently fell asleep again, together at last. As the Bible says 
of married couples, they were joined as one, in mind, in spirit, in flesh. 
And hopefully, what had been joined would never be put asunder by man. 


THE END
