The Hesitant Swingers
by Karen Ziegler


FOREWORD 

The third quarter of the Twentieth Century has been characterized as a 
period of great change. The number of independent nations has more than 
doubled in this period - the surge toward political freedom occurring all 
over the world. There also has been a widespread demand for other freedoms, 
among others: the freedom from want, sexual freedom, freedom of as 
womenexemplified by the various women's rights movements), and the freedom 
to read or view material of your choice. 

In the United States, books and magazines dealing with sexual realism are a 
grave political issue. For many years, now, a variety of publications have 
been filled with demands for sexual freedom; others have aided people to 
gain greater fulfillment from their sexual activities through descriptions, 
discussions and pictures. And wife-swapping has gained adherents in all 
sections of the nation. 

At the same time, with all the forceful demands for sexual freedom, it is 
often overlooked that any freedom - if it is truly a freedom and not just a 
form of slavish conformity or mere hedonistic license - must include the 
right to say no. In the enthusiastic surge towards freedom in sexual 
expression, people sometimes forget that not everyone needs or can cope with 
a variety of relationships. 

In wife-swapping, for example, while a certain amount of promiscuity may 
save one marriage, it might possibly destroy another. If the husband 
believes strongly in a double-standard - that it's all right for him to 
indulge in extra-marital sexual activity, but his wife must remain faithful 
to him (a concept which the Women's Rights Movement has challenged- - then 
wife-swapping may serve to dissolve that marriage rather than to make it 
stronger. Or, if a wife is thoroughly satisfied with her sexual relations 
with her husband, then wife-swapping may well lead to intense emotional 
conflicts which serve to weaken the marital bond. 

We, the Publishers, are proud to present this latest issue in the 
Illustrated Novel Series which concerns just such a couple: young Pete 
Flowers and his wife, Rosemary. Their year-old marriage can best be 
described as blissful - and it is only when a serpent enters their Garden of 
Eden, in this instance, in the person of Doreen Jarvis, a dedicated 
wife-swapper - that the young couple's bliss turns to dust. Once they 
hesitantly take their first step into the realm of swingers, these young 
innocents are lost; they can find no way to check their headlong flight into 
a world which is far too complex and sybaritic for their simple powers to 
cope with. 

The Publishers are certain that this study of one aspect of modern society 
will be welcomed by mature adult readers as a significant and educational 
aid to a better understanding of our contemporary mores. 

-The Publishers 

 CHAPTER ONE 

Paul Jarvis eased into the right lane of the freeway and pulled up the drive 
to the service station, bringing the big Continental to a halt beside the 
gas pumps. He cut the ignition, then dropped his hand lightly onto the 
smooth contours of his wife's long firm thigh, freely exposed by the short 
skirt that had worked its way far up above her knees. He looked at the 
fullness of her breasts straining against the tight-fitting material of her 
blouse. Then, lifting his eyes to her face, he was surprised to find that 
she was not looking back at him. Following her gaze to the wide entrance of 
the garage, Jarvis grinned sardonically as he realized what had attracted 
her attention. 

Leaning against the wall and for the moment making no move to come out and 
serve them, was the muscular, primitively handsome young gasoline station 
attendant. He wore his uniform shirt open in front, and the grease-smudged 
white T-shirt clung to his broad muscular chest. There was a tear in the 
T-shirt, through which several thick curls of black hah could be seen, and a 
conspicuous bulge in his trousers revealed, if not an erection, at least a 
very generous natural endowment. That, Jarvis remarked silently to himself, 
was no doubt what had attracted Doreen's wandering eyes. Looking up, he saw 
that the kid was staring back at his wife, thrilled or astonished or even 
transfixed. Paul studied his face for a moment, a blank, hard-sculptured, 
deeply tanned face, then raised his hand from his wife's thigh and beeped 
the horn. The boy snapped suddenly back to reality, averted his eyes from 
Doreen and strode quickly toward them. 

"Intelligent looking kid," Paul said. 

His wife's black eyes flashed as she stared back at him. Her tongue flicked 
unconsciously out to moisten her voluptuously inviting lips. Her sultry face 
assumed a mischievous expression. "What you saw in those eyes, my dear, was 
not, I don't think, intelligence." 

"No kidding," Jarvis grunted dryly. 

"That was animal magnetism." 

"Fill her up, sir?" the boy said, obviously trying to avoid the sensuous 
twenty-five year old woman's provoking gaze as he moved in front of the 
Continental and around to Paul's side. 

"Yeah. And check under the hood." Paul looked back at his wife. "Sure. 
Animal magnetism. I understand all the Neanderthals had it." 

"Then I was born too late," Doreen answered, shifting on the seat in a 
manner that served to work her skirt up even higher on her shapely legs. 

Looking back through the windshield, Paul noted that the rugged teenager had 
not missed his wife's gesture. He was staring openly at her exposed thighs 
now, and it was only a moment later that he seemed to sense, perhaps as an 
animal senses danger, that her husband in turn was staring at him. 

He shifted his gaze abruptly to Paul, then looked quickly away, raising the 
hood to obscure himself from their view. Paul glanced back at his wife, then 
extracted his wallet from his jacket pocket and removed the thick roll of 
bills he always liked to carry in case of need. It was obvious Doreen's 
interest had really been captured by this kid. But that didn't really bother 
him, at least not the way it would have bothered most more ordinary 
husbands. It didn't make him jealous. But somehow Jarvis couldn't help 
feeling a certain contempt for this particular young guy. He looked so 
stupid, so innocent, so naive. Good looking, yes. But beyond an occasional 
romp in the sack, looks would never get this kid anywhere if he didn't have 
the brains and ambition to go with them. And he didn't. That much was 
evident to Paul, and it filled him with an almost exquisite sense of 
superiority. 

"Oil's fine, sir," the boy said as he lowered the hood. Self-consciously he 
walked to the back of the long automobile. Doreen Jarvis watched in the 
rear-view mirror as he fed a few more drops of gas into the tank, then 
replaced the pump. "That's eight-ninety-four, sir," he said as he moved back 
to the window on Paul's side. 

Paul peeled a ten from the roll of bills he'd displayed. Beside him, Doreen 
watched the handsome young man through narrowed eyes. "You're new here, 
aren't you?" she drawled, her accent revealing a lingering influence from 
her childhood, most of which she's spent in Memphis. 

"Yes, ma'am," the young man said, daring again for a moment to look at her 
face. "I was working at a station in San Diego, but me and Rosemary - she's 
my wife - are buying a house in town here so I got myself transferred to 
this one." 

"I see," said Doreen, her eyes sparkling as she gazed out the window. "I 
always stop here for gas, so I suppose we'll be seeing more of each other." 

"I'll-I'll be happy to be of service." 

"I'm sure you will," Paul said abruptly. "Could I have my change, please?" 

"Oh! Yes, sir!" The greasy-faced young man quickly extracted a dollar bill 
and two coins from his pocket and passed them through the window as Paul 
turned over the ignition to start the Continental. 

"My name's Doreen Jarvis," Doreen said, putting her hand on her husband's 
forearm to indicate she wanted him to wait for a moment before pulling away. 
"And you're...?" 

"Pete. Pete Flowers." 

"Well, Pete," the sensuous brunette said with a warm and genuine smile. "I'm 
happy to meet you." 

Paul Jarvis shook his head, shifted into "drive" and pulled away, leaving 
the confused young man to stare almost wistfully after the big car. Pete 
watched the vehicle move back onto the freeway. He still couldn't quite 
understand the woman's manner. She was good looking, really good looking, 
and her attraction was of an entirely different sort than Rosemary's. 
Rosemary was innocent and virginal, even if she was not and had not been a 
virgin since a year before they were married. And this woman was just 
downright earthy. 

"Hell, I dunno," Pete muttered to himself. He shrugged and walked back 
across the drive toward the garage entrance. She'd been coming on to him, 
that much was certain. She'd been coming on to him right in front of her 
husband - or at least Pete thought the man was her husband. But it probably 
didn't really mean anything. Maybe she was just trying to make the older man 
jealous. 

And yet, Pete couldn't help thinking to himself, it would be nice to have a 
really good-looking, sexy-looking, experienced woman like that for a night 
or two - if he wasn't married to Rosemary. 

* * * 

Rosemary Flowers set the dish of home-made apple pie a la mode on the table 
and gazed down proudly as Pete began to gobble it down. Tall and slender, 
the eighteen year old housewife wore a tight-fitting sleeveless sweater that 
revealed her golden tanned arms and shoulders and emphasized the fully 
rounded contours of her breasts, which stood out strikingly from her torso. 
Her long blonde hair was pulled back from her forehead, then hung freely 
down her back, and the miniskirt she wore emphasized her sleek young thighs. 

"Good?" she asked softly. 

"Great!" Pete answered through a mouthful of the rich dessert, his eyes 
wandering appreciatively over his wife's sensuous body as he spoke. Then 
Rosemary finished clearing the table and turned away to the sink to wash the 
dishes. Looking at the ripe promise of her buttocks outlined under her 
skirt, Pete made a mental comparison between Rosemary's body and the body of 
the sexy brunette who'd accompanied the man in the Continental that had 
stopped at the station this afternoon. But the fact was that there was 
really nothing to compare. Rosemary was slender, almost fragile; that woman 
definitely had been built for nothin' but fucking! That woman, Pete found 
himself thinking with a growing excitement, probably could and would do 
things in bed Rosemary would never dream of. Christ! She'd not only let - 
but expect - a guy to go down on her! But he still wouldn't have traded. 
Sometimes in his fantasies Pete dreamed about making it with another woman. 
But he couldn't think of it in terms of something that could really happen. 
Except for a high school "punch" he'd got to once a couple of months before 
he quit school and went to work, Rosemary was the only woman Pete had ever 
had. And he knew he should damned well be satisfied. Rosemary had been his 
girl since she was eleven and he was twelve. Except for one short break-up 
they'd been together almost seven years. And Pete knew as well as anybody 
she was really a prize catch. She could have had just about any guy in the 
whole school. And she'd never Wanted anybody but him. 

"Hamburger's gone up again," Rosemary remarked, interrupting Pete from his 
reverie. 

"Oh yeah," Pete said, scraping up the last of his pie and ice cream on his 
fork. He belched, leaned back from the table and patted his belly. "Wouldya 
get me a beer out of the box, hon'." 

Rosemary wiped her hands on the dish towel, opened the refrigerator and took 
out a can of cold beer. She tore open the flip-top and turned to pass it 
across the table to Pete. She watched him lift it to his lips, the white 
foam spilling from the corner of his mouth and down onto his tight-fitting 
T-shirt as he drank. Then her eyes strayed to his bare arms and swollen 
biceps, then gradually descended lower toward the front of his trousers. 
Then, a smile of anticipation crossing her lips, the young blonde turned 
away. 

As Rosemary finished up in the kitchen, Pete took his beer into the living 
room, flicked on the tube and sat down on the couch. Moments later she 
joined him; they snuggled close together at one end of the comfortable sofa, 
purchased with the Sears credit card they'd applied for when they got 
married, and watched the tail-end of an old and, Rosemary thought, rather 
boring movie about some American artists in Paris. She wondered fleetingly, 
as she watched the final panoramic shot of the city that ended the film, if 
she would ever see Paris - or Rome or Venice or even New York City. And she 
knew, almost without regret, that she never would. If she'd wanted 
excitement and travel, she would have had to marry someone other than Pete. 
Pete had never been any farther away than the Mexican border, nor did he 
have any ambition to move. It was like her mother had told her, with tears 
in her eyes, a couple of days before they were married. Her mother had told 
her Pete would probably never be anything but a service station attendant, 
or maybe a station manager at the most. "I know you love him, now," her 
mother had said. "But do you want his kind of life for yourself... for 
always? If it's a question of... of sex... go ahead and do it with him. I'd 
rather you made that... kind of mistake - than... " Her voice had trailed 
off. Rosemary looked her in the eye and said softly: "I have, Mama. I have 
been to bed with him." 

Two days later they were married and honeymooning - in a motel in Laguna 
Beach. 

"Sleepy?" Pete asked, massaging the soft bare skin of her shoulder with his 
work-calloused hand. 

Turning toward him, Rosemary recognized the mischievous look in his eyes. 
She matched it with a sultry smile of her own, her tongue flicking teasingly 
out to moisten her inviting lips. "I'm ready to go to bed." 

"Then let's go," Pete said with increasing eagerness, urging her up from the 
couch. 

As she moved down the short hallway to the bedroom, Rosemary mused that sex 
might not be everything, but it was still the best thing she and Pete had. 
Then, her breath coming in soft, quickened gasps, she moved through the door 
and turned to face herself in the long dresser mirror. She stared 
seductively at her own blue eyes, then tilted her head sideways and making a 
little pout with her lips, she shifted her gaze to the doorway as Pete came 
through and stopped just inside, watching her. After all this time, five 
years of gradually intensified petting and two years of making almost 
constant love together, he still looked at her every time she undressed as 
if it was the first time he'd ever seen her without her clothes. 

A smile playing on her lips, Rosemary quickly seized the tail of her sweater 
and peeled it up off her torso and neck, pulling it over her head so for a 
moment her vision was completely obscured. The sweater caught in the bobby 
pin that held her hair off her forehead, and when she'd managed to 
disentangle it and pull the garment off, she saw Pete moving quickly up 
behind her. 

Rosemary moaned softly as she felt her young husband's hands coursing up the 
nakedly sensitive skin of her spine to deftly flick loose the snap of her 
brassiere. She shivered as he pushed the straps from her shoulders and the 
flimsy garment fluttered lightly to the floor, completely freeing the 
proudly upstanding mounds of her breasts crested by the pink-tipped nipples 
that swelled instantly to sensuously tingling rigidity from their contact 
with the air. 

"Ooooooooooh," she moaned softly, lifting her arms high over her head to 
further arch and part her fully rounded breasts as Pete stooped slightly to 
kiss her on the back of the neck. She wrapped her arms back up around his 
neck, holding him against her back, and swaying on her feet as she felt him 
press against her from behind, the hardness of his cock pressing up in his 
trousers to prod promisingly at her tightly rounded buttocks on the outside 
of her skirt. 

Then Pete dropped his hands to her waist, flicking open the snap at the top 
of the zipper, and a gentle push of his hands was all that was required to 
ease the garment over the flare of her buttocks and let it drop freely to 
her ankles, leaving her naked except for her flimsy bikini panties. Then 
again she observed his eyes in the mirror, and a brief frown crossed her 
face as she noted the way he was looking at her body. His gaze was shifting 
alternately from her back and barely covered buttocks to the reflection of 
her exposed breasts and belly. The familiar animal lust was there, but there 
was something else in his eyes, something strange and new, something she 
couldn't identify. 

Pete's eyes roved hungrily over the lush curves of Rosemary's naked torso. 
For a moment his mind drifted back to the recollection of the woman who'd 
given him the eye this afternoon. And he thought - something he rarely ever 
did when he was about to make love - he thought about her, about the 
difference between her and Rosemary. And for a moment he wondered if he was 
not missing something by being so faithful to his wife. He wondered if he 
wasn't selling his own potential short, though his thoughts were not 
expressed in so many words. Then, an impulse stronger than introspection 
took over. To Rosemary, still watching him in the mirror, Pete looked again 
his hungry, primeval self. He reached eagerly beneath her arms to cup both 
her softly trembling breasts in his hands, squeezing them almost viciously 
before he turned her to face him and stopped to cover one of the nipples 
with his lips, nipping his teeth hungrily into the taut little bud, his 
tongue whipping teasingly over the sensitive tip. 

"Ooooooooh," Rosemary purred, looking down through narrowed eyes at the 
manipulations of her husband's lips and tongue on the hard-swollen little 
bud of her nipple. She was trembling all over and Pete's nibbling oral 
caress made her whole aroused body shudder with tingling sensuality as she 
felt the acutely maddening waves of pleasure pouring through her young 
flesh. This was it! This was all that made her dull and common life 
worthwhile, and already she could feel her feminine need raging almost out 
of control through her burning breasts and loins. 

Pete's hotly slavering mouth remained locked on Rosemary's rounded breasts, 
his lips pulling and sucking eagerly at the rigid little bud of her nipple. 
And even as he continued to kiss and suck the flesh of her naked torso, she 
could feel his hands moving lower down her body, wrapping around her waist 
to pull her barely protected loins tight against his own. 

Then with a sudden gasp he straightened up. He stared with wild-eyed and 
primitive longing into her eyes, his breath coming in low hoarse gasps as 
his lips suddenly covered hers, crushing them against her teeth as his 
tongue shot deep into her open mouth, and she felt the fingernails of one of 
his hands scratching almost painfully over the sensitive skin of her naked 
back. He kissed her savagely, with all his thoughtlessly devouring passion, 
pulling her body forcibly against his own, crushing her with all his 
strength against the hard muscles of his chest. Then, as abruptly as he'd 
begun the kiss, he broke away, his hand seizing one of her arms as he pulled 
her toward the bed and shoved her down in a reclining position on her back. 

Rosemary stared up through lust-narrowed eyes as Pete's gaze roved in 
fascination over the sensuous curves of her naked flesh. In spite of the 
near violence that raged almost visibly within his strong wiry body, his 
eager expectancy was almost child-like in its greed. He looked now like a 
child surveying a feast of sweets, and a further tremor of excited 
anticipation coursed through her loins as he kicked off his shoes, quickly 
peeled his T-shirt off his rippling chest, and clamored up to a kneeling 
position on the bed beside her. 

"Oooooohhhhhh, that's good," the near-naked young blonde whispered 
seductively as Pete again lowered his face toward her and took one of her 
lust-swollen nipples between his teeth. 

She writhed gently as his tongue flicked teasingly over the little bud. Then 
he increased the pressure until her whole nearly naked body shuddered in 
spontaneous reflex, but at the same time she felt his hand venture back to 
her belly and creep quickly lower, pausing at the sensitive indentation of 
her navel before his fingers inched down beneath the tight elastic waistband 
of her sheer panties, into the softly curling strands of her silken blonde 
pubic hair. 

Now Pete was really getting excited. Forgotten was the older brunette he'd 
found himself so attracted to this afternoon. Rosemary was almost naked, 
waiting for him in unprotesting surrender. Right now her lovely body was the 
only one in the world, and his cock was already twitching to full erection 
inside his trousers. It was aching to be free, pushing almost painfully 
against the constricting material of his shorts, and at this moment he felt 
as if he would be able to fuck all night. 

For several minutes longer Pete continued to tease and massage Rosemary's 
sparsely haired pubic mound from the inside of her tightly clinging panties. 
It seemed that an eternity passed before she finally felt his middle finger 
move down into contact with the already hardened bud of her tiny clitoris 
nestled at the top of the moistened slit of her cunt, and she arched her 
buttocks up urgently as his probing finger moved lower, down along the full 
length of her moistly heated little hair-lined cuntal orifice. 

"Ooooooooh," the aroused young blonde moaned as she wiggled her smoothly 
curved hips up from the bed, parting her thighs out wide to work the soft 
lips of her pussy hotly up against Pete's eagerly prodding finger. He let 
just the tip of it pop inside the warm little orifice, then quickly 
withdrew, teasing and frustrating her for a few moments before he suddenly 
screwed the plundering end of it straight up into the elastic-like opening. 
As Rosemary squirmed before him, he drove relentlessly deeper into the 
clasping passage of her vagina until his long middle finger was buried to 
the knuckle and his palm was pressed flat against her welcoming pussy. 

"Aaaaaggghhhh! Oooooohhhhhh yesssssss!" Rosemary moaned, her naked body 
arching stiffly up from the bed in response to the lewd invasion. 

Again Pete bit down on one of the hard little buds of her nipples, prompting 
a further pained and passionate cry to rise involuntarily from her throat. 
Then as she continued to quiver beneath his assault, he began slowly to work 
his finger in and out of the flowering tightness of her cunt, penetrating in 
long teasing strokes as he used his other hand to work gently at her 
panties, pulling them down the smoothness of her thighs to completely expose 
the triangle of her blonde cunt-hair to his lustfully hungering gaze. 

"Oooooh please," Rosemary moaned almost incoherently as her young husband 
shifted downward on the bed to slip her panties the rest of the way down her 
legs and off her ankles. He tossed them casually aside, then moved his hand 
quickly back up between her thighs, pushing them out wide apart to 
completely expose the forbidden plane of her cunt. And as his finger wormed 
swiftly back up into her steaming passage, he felt her hands begin to grope 
desperately at his body, tearing at the buckle of his belt in a desperate 
attempt to undo it. 

"Please, Pete," she purred, a shudder coursing down the length of her 
inviting nakedness as he wiggled his finger deep up in her womb. "Take your 
pants off. Take your pants off and do it to me." 

Pete hesitated for only a moment, maintaining his kneeling position over his 
wife on the bed, holding his finger thrust deep up inside her cunt as he 
gazed lovingly down at her lust-contorted face. Then he withdrew his finger 
with a moist little popping sound, relishing the gasp that rose to her lips 
as he quickly stood and began to pull off his trousers. 

Still writhing gently on the bed, Rosemary waited in naked and spread-eagled 
surrender, the lust that surged through her almost blotting all thought from 
her mind. Pete was really getting worked up tonight, and she watched with 
building anticipation as he pulled his trousers and shorts down in a single 
swift motion and the hard-throbbing shaft of his cock jerked suddenly free. 
My God, she still couldn't get used to its size. 

Pete was really well developed down there. The first time she'd given in to 
him, Rosemary had been afraid it would literally rip her apart at the seams. 
And though she'd survived that frightening assault, even now her husband's 
penis looked threatening. In a way she'd never quite understood, she'd 
learned to love it and fear it at the same time. Though sometimes it brought 
her pain, she worshipped it because it also brought her joy. It was an 
animalistic and pagan instrument of fulfillment, a taming, punishing rod of 
flesh. With it, more than with words, Pete was able to really communicate 
with her. 

Rosemary almost closed her eyes as the muscular nineteen year old youth 
stepped out of his greasy trousers and moved back toward the bed. She purred 
softly as she felt the mattress sag beneath his weight and his hands moved 
again to her naked torso. A little groan escaped her as he took one of her 
nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and teasing it to even 
greater hardness. Then she sighed as he slid up between her parted thighs, 
holding them out wide with his knees as he lowered his wiry body onto hers. 
His lips once more covered her mouth, and she shivered in fear and 
anticipation as she felt the thickly swollen hardness of his cock prodding 
threateningly up between her legs. 

"Oh," the young blonde wife gasped at the sudden pressure as he lunged 
forward. His lust-hardened penis surged without warning straight up against 
the softness of her loins. Pete hesitated, his eyes red with lust and pride 
at the fact that even after a year of marriage Rosemary was still frightened 
by the size of his cock. Then, his own body quivering from his excitement 
and urgency, he pushed forward again, pressing the head of his 
heavily-swollen hardness even tighter up into the quivering moisture of her 
loins. 

"Put it in," he grunted. "Rosemary, put it in." 

As Pete craned his neck to sink his teeth back into the soft flesh of one of 
her breasts, Rosemary moved her hand down between their bodies to seek out 
and clasp the rigid hardness of his cock. She wriggled her buttocks gently 
on the bed, relishing the frightening power emanating from the surging shaft 
of flesh that pressed up between her thighs. She squeezed and caressed it 
reverently, levering it up and down along the tingling slit of her 
hair-lined pussy, at last fitting just the bulbous cock-head up between the 
forcibly parted lips as she felt Pete lunge forward anew with even greater 
and more animalistic force. 

" Oooohhhhhhhh," she whimpered, the brutally violent penetration almost 
taking her breath away as his blood-filled cock-head plunged into her cunt 
like a vicious shaft of steel. She still gripped the base of his cock 
tightly, doing everything she could to restrain him until she could accustom 
herself to its massive size. Then, as she felt the resistance give way, she 
sank back in surrender on the bed, a low sigh escaping from her throat as 
her pussy flowered open and the entire length of Pete's rock-hard penis 
drove without impediment all the way up into her most secret pussy depths, 
embedding itself to the hilt into her lewdly filled cuntal tightness. 

For a moment both of them lay perfectly still. Rosemary felt Pete's hairy 
muscular chest press hard against the voluptuous cushions of her breasts. 
She was completely filled and stretched and she was aware of every ridge and 
ripple of his rigidly virile young cock thrust all the way up into her 
tenderly cringing belly. The bushiness of his pubic hair scratched against 
the tingling bud of her clitoris and his sperm-bloated balls hung obscenely 
down into the crack between her buttocks to press teasingly against the 
tightly contracted little hole of her anus. Then he flexed deep up inside 
her, sending a shudder through her lust-racked body, and as she wrapped her 
arms' tightly about his back to pull him even more warmly against her, he 
slowly began to move. 

Pete fucked his long thick cock savagely in and out of the tightly throbbing 
passage of his young wife's receptive pussy, each impaling lunge sending 
further shivers of obscene delight dancing over her naked flesh. He levered 
himself up on his elbows, staring down with feverish lust and child-like 
affection at her desire-strained face, and his hands moved back once more to 
her high-arched breasts to squeeze and tease at them even more violently as 
he began gradually increasing the tempo of his shattering fucking of her up 
between her thighs. 

And as the last pain of his merciless entry faded, to be swallowed up by a 
rejuvenation of the passionate desire that had filled her, Rosemary began to 
respond. A stream of mewling whimpers issued from her lips as she began to 
arch and churn her buttocks, hunching eagerly back in response to her 
husband's heavily pounding strokes. The soft, flesh-rimmed mouth of her 
pussy was elastic-tight about his blood-engorged penis, and his sperm-filled 
balls swung forward with every thrust to slap teasingly against the cringing 
little hole of her anus. His lust-hardened cock felt as if it was surging 
all the way up into her belly, and already she could feel the first waves of 
ecstasy surging through her loins from the wildly stimulating sensations. 
Her tiny clitoris was palpitating with unabated desire and her whole body 
was alive with the flames of her all-consuming passion. 

Pete fucked deeper and harder with every lust-crazed stroke as Rosemary 
bucked and tossed beneath him. He could see the ecstatic delirium that 
gripped her revealed in her glossed-over, wide-open eyes, and quickly he 
reached down beneath her hips with both his hands to clench tightly into her 
hotly squirming buttocks, guiding her and pulling her smooth ass-cheeks 
wider apart to lewdly expose her quivering little anus even more. Then, 
seized by a sudden wild idea, he abruptly pressed the middle finger of his 
right hand against his young wife's vulnerable anus. Flicking it forward 
again immediately, he crossed the little membrane that separated her anus 
from her cunt and teasingly spread a few slick drops of her warmly seeping 
feminine excitement down over the softly pulsating lips of her rectal mouth. 

Then, as Rosemary quivered in astonishment beneath him, he slowly, 
teasingly, pressed the tip of his finger inward. 

"Oh!" the surprised young blonde gasped in incomprehension. "My God, Pete! 
What... what are you doing?" 

The passionately aroused young wife was taken completely off guard by this 
new and titillating sensation. She couldn't even decide if it felt good or 
if it hurt, but the sheer masochistic stimulation was almost more than she 
could resist, and she immediately began to grind her smoothly undulating 
buttocks in a wilder circular motion as a shattering wave of salacious 
passion swept over her, and he wormed his relentlessly impaling finger all 
the way up to the first knuckle in her helplessly cringing little asshole. 

"Oooooooh yes!" she moaned out deliriously as Pete began to work his finger 
in and out of her tightly clinging rectal passage in time with his cock 
fucking in and out of her cunt. "Oh yes. Do it to me like that! Do it with 
your finger! Deeper! Deeper!" 

Pete was only too happy to comply. He finger-fucked viciously in and out of 
the quivering tightness of his teenage wife's eagerly absorbing young anal 
passage, simultaneously fucking her body with heavily shattering lunges as 
he buried his cock again and again up to the hilt in her hotly working 
little pussy. He launched the full force of his primitive animal lust on her 
almost virginal young body, and the power and frenzy of his attack drove 
Rosemary beyond the point of no return. She was going to cum. Any moment she 
was going to cum. 

And a split-second later it began. The wildly growing sensations of passion 
deep up in her finger-filled rectal walls intensified until she could hardly 
bear it, then seemed miraculously to merge with the sheer ecstasy she 
derived from the continuing assault on her cunt by her husband's 
pile-driving cock. Her body tensed and her mind blanked. For a moment she 
didn't even know who she was, or where she was. She knew nothing but the 
consuming, blinding delight of the orgasm building out of control through 
her loins. She opened her eyes, staring blankly up at Pete's lust-strained 
face. She winced as he launched a sudden hard-racking series of staccato 
thrusts, his cum-swollen balls relinquishing the sperm that bloated them. 
She opened her mouth, kissing him hungrily, sucking his tongue almost to her 
throat as his white-hot cum began its maddening dash up the elongated shaft 
of his cock. The head of his penis pulsed furiously up into her cunt as he 
drove into her to maximum depth, and his searing semen burst forth like a 
cannon shot, mingling with her own freely flowing vaginal fluids. 

Beneath him, Rosemary seemed to almost levitate from the bed as she racked 
and tossed in a wild frenzy of delight to the shattering waves of orgasm 
that consumed the whole of her nakedly twisting body. She screamed and 
whimpered out of control now, her hands clawing wildly at his back as spasm 
after spasm of crazed, untamed orgasm rippled through her ravished loins. 
Their mutual climax seemed to go on and on, a soul-shattering explosion that 
lifted them out of themselves and faded slowly away. Then the blonde-haired 
teenage wife let her breath escape in a sigh, and Pete sagged down tiredly 
upon her, his cock still buried deep up in her loins. They lay like that for 
several moments, then gradually his massive penis began to deflate. He 
kissed her once on the lips, then slowly withdrew and rolled off to lie, 
still panting heavily, close beside her, thoughts of the voluptuous woman in 
the Continental still drifting through his mind. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Pete Flowers stamped the credit card and returned it to the salesman in the 
new Chevrolet. He watched the bright yellow vehicle move away, then crossed 
the drive and walked into the glass-walled station where Gus Craig, his 
partner on the day-shift, sat with his feet propped on the desk. Pete paused 
in the door, leaning against the frame, and removed a cigarette from the 
pack in his pocket and inserted it between his lips. He struck a kitchen 
match on his thumbnail and was in the process of lighting it when he heard 
the roar of an engine behind him and the jingling of the bell that signaled 
the arrival of another customer. 

"Would you get a load of that dish," Gus said, dropping his feet from the 
desk and leaning forward. "Take a rest, kid. I'll get this one." 

Pete glanced casually over his shoulder, then stiffened. Parked beside the 
pumps was a red MG. The driver was the same sexy-looking brunette who'd been 
with the man in the Continental the other day. She was leaning across the 
door on Pete's side, peering out at him, smiling in that same teasing, 
mischievous way he'd found it impossible to ignore. His eyes met hers. For a 
brief moment her gaze descended the length of his body. She was looking at 
him as if he were a piece of merchandise she was thinking of purchasing, and 
if he hadn't found the idea too incredible to believe, Pete would have sworn 
for a moment at least the focal point of her appraising gaze was the front 
of his trousers. She was looking at him almost as if she were a bitch in 
heat and didn't mind admitting it. 

Then, aware Gus was moving up behind him and about to come through the door, 
Pete shifted his position, blocking his co-worker's path without ever 
turning away from the brunette in the little sports-car. "I'll take this 
one," he said tersely, exerting an uncommon authority contradictory to his 
custom of letting Gus pretty much have his way around the station. "I know 
her." 

"You know her?" Gus croaked under his breath, but Pete walked across the 
drive without answering, without looking back. 

"Hello, Pete Flowers," the woman said with a carefree gaiety that somehow 
belied the sultry look in her black eyes. "Do you remember me?" 

"Yes, ma'am," Pete managed, feeling almost the same awkwardness he'd 
experienced the other day, though now it was not quite as bad since she was 
alone, without the man who'd had a way of looking down at him that had made 
his discomfort all the worse. 

"Could you fill it up, please. And do all those other things you fellows 
always do." 

"Yes, ma'am." Pete hurriedly started the gas running into the tank, leaving 
it on automatic, checked the oil and then set about cleaning the windshield, 
conscious all the time of the woman looking at him, her eyes studying him, 
studying ids face, his body, looking at him as if he was on display and 
making him feel so uncomfortable that he couldn't even think of meeting her 
gaze - though at the same time he found it impossible to keep from staring 
at the fullness of her breasts straining against her blouse and at the 
shapely contours of her half-exposed thighs, and it seemed almost as if she 
had intentionally pulled up her skirt almost revealing her panties. Then the 
pump clicked off and he poured a last couple of squirts of gas into the 
tank. 

"The oil's fine," Pete said in a husky voice. He remembered he'd said the 
same thing in almost exactly the same words the last time he'd seen this 
woman and found himself worrying nervously, absurdly, that she might think 
this was all he could say. And still she was just sitting there, looking at 
him, making no move to go. "Anything else?" he asked after a moment. 

"I might pay you." 

"Oh!" Pete said, feeling even more stupid. "That's... four-sixty," he 
quickly read the meter on the pump. 

The woman produced a credit card and Pete went to record it, noting as he 
did so that the card was in the name of Mr. Paul A. Jarvis. He studied the 
name again as he returned to the car, then handed it back to her. And still 
she just sat there looking at him. She gazed at him, now, for what seemed a 
long time. Then she shifted her attention suddenly to the door of the 
station, where Gus stood against the background of glass, openly gawking at 
her. 

"That man, Peter. Why is he staring at me?" 

"Hunh?" The question somehow had not registered on Pete's mind. 

"Why is he staring at me?" 

"Oh." Pete turned also to peer in the same direction. Gus frowned. Pete made 
a gesture with his head and after a moment his partner shrugged, turned away 
and went back into the station. "That's just Gus," he said, feeling foolish. 

"I can call you Peter?" the woman asked. "I mean, Peter must be your real 
name?" 

"Well, yes, ma'am. Though nobody's called me that in a long time." 

"I like it," the woman said, looking at him again. She flicked her tongue 
out to moisten her lips. "It suits you." She smiled. "If you know what I 
mean," she added, then turned to peer toward the soft drinks and coffee and 
hot chocolate machines situated to the left of the station doorway. "Do 
those machines work? The coffee, I mean." 

"Pete frowned. "The coffee? Uh... yeah, sure. The coffee works and... and 
you get it anyway you want it, you know, cream, sugar and cream or black or 
just sugar. However you want it." 

"Do you mind if I get out and have a cup?" The sensuous brunette smiled 
wickedly as Pete's mouth dropped open in surprise. "I mean, would I be 
interrupting your work?" 

"My work? No, ma'am!" 

Awkwardly Pete opened the door, his eyes fastened inadvertently on the 
suddenly exposed area between her half-parted thighs as she stepped out of 
the car. The dark-haired woman cast him another teasing smile, standing so 
close to him the tips of her voluptuously upthrust breasts almost brushed 
his bare arm. She made no move to step away from him, and at last it was 
Pete who out of sheer embarrassment at his own building excitement felt 
compelled to move away. Then, with a carefree little toss of her head, she 
turned and walked, her shapely buttocks swinging a rhythmically provocative 
manner, across the station to the automatic vending machines. Pete stood 
frozen where he was, staring open-mouthed at the sexy woman, and belatedly 
remembered himself and hurried after her. He caught her just as she reached 
the machines and fumbled hastily in his pocket for a coin to buy her coffee. 

Doreen Jarvis pushed the button for a black coffee with sugar, doing her 
best to conceal her amusement as the young man fidgeted in nervous silence 
before her. When the cup was filled she put it up to her full, sensuous 
lips, and, ovaling her mouth suggestively, took a sip, again looking over 
his lean muscular build in the same almost lascivious manner. Then her eyes 
returned to his handsome face. "You don't say much, do you?" she asked in a 
low, husky drawl that sent a strange coursing up the youth's spine. "I guess 
you're kind of the strong, silent type." 

Pete swallowed hard, almost visibly squirming. He had never met a woman like 
this before, and he felt like an awkward, bumbling kid. When most of his 
buddies were going out with a different girl every weekend, he'd been 
steadily dating Rosemary. Rosemary had come to be not only the woman in his 
life, but Womanhood to him. He could talk to her. She knew him and 
understood him and he knew he could say anything he wanted to Rosemary 
without appearing dull or uneducated. And if he didn't want to say anything 
to her, he didn't have to speak. That was one of the strongest aspects of 
the bond between them. They were just as comfortable together in silence as 
they were when speaking. But this strange woman wasn't Rosemary. She was a 
good-looking, obviously experienced woman. For some reason she was 
interested in him, and he was thrilled with that fact. But he was at a total 
loss with her; he couldn't think of anything to say. Her questions and 
remarks kept him off-balance all the time, and he felt like a complete 
idiot. He had an almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and grab her, 
jamming his mouth against hers and crushing those luscious-looking 
melon-like breasts against his chest... but he knew he would never dare do 
something as reckless as all that. 

"Well?" the woman prompted. 

Pete gazed at her desperately, then looked away, his eyes finally coming to 
rest on the MG. "You and you're husband must do... uh... pretty good to have 
a couple of cars like those?" It sounded stupid, he thought. "I mean, not 
everybody has a Continental and an MG." It still sounded stupid. "I... uh... 
I guess he is your husband, isn't he?" 

Pete looked at her left hand, at the wedding band on her finger. 

"Yes, he's my husband. Paul. But I'm afraid the cars aren't ours. All we own 
is an old Plymouth." She paused, waiting for Pete's response. But he only 
watched her in awkward silence, the unconcealed hunger in his eyes sending a 
lascivious thrill of anticipation rippling through her loins. "Paul sells 
used cars in San Diego. The Continental and the MG are both from the lot. 
It's sort of a fringe benefit." She paused again. "Paul is one of the 
hottest salesmen around. He says he could sell a rotten lemon to a citrus 
farmer and I imagine it's true." 

She waited with a teasing smile on her soft red lips while Pete fidgeted 
silently. "Yeah," he finally ventured, "he... uh... he looked like pretty 
much of a go-getter." 

Doreen laughed softly and, sticking out her little pink tongue, licked the 
rim of the paper up before taking another sip of her coffee. "I'm sure he'd 
be pleased to hear you say that. He's a very ambitious man, my husband, and 
I suppose by the time we're old we will be rich enough to own a couple of 
automobiles like the ones we're driving now." She stared at Pete through 
narrowing eyes. "And you?" 

Pete frowned. "Me?" 

"Well what about you? Certainly a good-looking and intelligent young man 
like yourself doesn't plan on spending his whole life pumping gas?" 

Pete was staring at her in utter confusion. "I don't guess I ever really 
thought about it." 

"Really? Come now. You must have some secret desires." Doreen watched the 
young man expectantly, enjoying his nervousness; then, realizing that he was 
probably serious, abruptly relented, she regretting making him so 
uncomfortable. "Forget that," she said softly, reaching up to place her hand 
on his shoulder. "I was just teasing you." 

"I... I dropped out of high school when Rosemary and I got engaged," Pete 
said apologetically, though his lack of a diploma had never in the past 
caused him either shame or worry. 

"Oh, that's nothing," Doreen soothed. "Paul never actually finished high 
school either. He joined the Marines when he was sixteen or so and just took 
a test. Anyway... Rosemary is your wife's name? She must be lovely... to 
have landed you?" 

"Yes," Pete said quickly, sensing this was a bad turn for the conversation 
to take; he didn't want to talk about his wife - not right now - yet he felt 
compelled to answer her question. "She... everybody always thought of her as 
the best-looking girl in school. We started going steady when we were just 
kids." 

Doreen licked her lips suggestively and said, "You probably have a picture 
of her in your wallet, don't you?" 

"Yeah, I guess I do." Damn it, Pete thought to himself. How did he ever let 
her get him started talking about Rosemary? 

"Could I see it?" 

Pete sighed and pulled out his wallet. He thumbed the series of cellophane 
photo-holders, selected a close-up facial shot of his wife, taken less than 
a year ago, and held it reluctantly out to the smiling brunette. 

"Yes," Doreen said. "She is beautiful. She looks so innocent, so virginal." 
Before Pete could resist, the woman took the wallet from his trembling hand 
and continued to thumb through the photo's, almost all of which featured 
Rosemary, though sometimes he also appeared with her in the pictures. After 
a moment Doreen paused to closely examine a picture of the tall blonde girl 
in her cheer-leader's uniform, which completely revealed her long golden 
thighs. "And a nice figure, too. She's built like a New York fashion model 
except for her breasts." 

Pete swallowed hard as the woman handed the wallet back to him. He stuffed 
it swiftly back into his pocket, turning his attention to the semi that was 
creeping up the drive toward the pumps. Staring at him with a mixture of 
envy and reproach, Gus moved across the drive to service it, and Pete looked 
helplessly back at the sexy brunette, who'd finished her coffee and was 
dumping the empty cup in the waste can. 

"You're probably very much in love with her," she said, her voice so devoid 
of inflection Pete didn't know if the remark was meant as a statement or a 
question. "And I bet she's very much in love with you, too? I bet you're the 
only man she's ever had?" 

"I... I guess," Pete said. 

Doreen smiled. "I guess I'd better go." 

Pete stood frozen where he was, almost as if he were hypnotized, as he 
watched her turn and walk slowly back toward the sports-car. He stared 
dry-mouthed at her swaying buttocks, and swallowing again, then called 
hastily, "Miss?" 

Just before her car the dark-haired woman stopped and looked back. "Yes?" 

"Will I see you again?" he croaked. 

She smiled seductively. "Yes. Tomorrow afternoon I'd like to bring my car in 
for a grease job. Will that be all right?" 

"Sure," Pete said eagerly. "Sure it will. I'll do it myself." 

"No," Doreen Jarvis said. "I don't want to have to wait around. I'd like to 
leave it overnight. You can drive me home if you don't mind. What time do 
you get off." 

Pete gulped and managed to say, "Six," 

"I'll see you then." 

* * * 

"Take the freeway east," Doreen Jarvis said as Pete Flowers slid into the 
driver's seat of his station wagon. "It's the Vista Verde exit and from 
there just a couple of minutes to my place." 

"I've got a little time," Pete said. "I warned Rosemary I'd be an hour 
late." 

An hour, Doreen thought, studying Pete's handsome profile as he turned the 
vehicle around. I'm afraid an hour won't be quite long enough for what I 
have in mind for you today young man. But I suppose I can persuade you to 
stay a few minutes extra. 

Pete ignored Gus Craig's envious leer as he drove past the front of the 
station. He eased carefully onto the freeway and headed east, as directed, 
acutely conscious of the inviting presence of the woman in the seat beside 
him. Doreen, as she'd finally got around to introducing herself, was really 
looking sexier than ever today. And though he kept telling himself he could 
look but not touch, Pete couldn't completely convince himself that she 
hadn't dressed this way just for his benefit. She was wearing a lacy low-cut 
blouse that completely exposed the soft, smoothly tanned skin of her 
shoulders and revealed the luxuriously contoured upper portions of her 
breasts almost to the nipples. Her short skirt lay teasingly against her 
smooth thighs, and he couldn't get the picture out of his mind of the way a 
little gust of wind had swept her skirt up as they were walking toward the 
car, giving him a briefly tantalizing view of her perfectly formed 
ass-cheeks, barely covered by a skimpy pair of see-through bikini panties. 

"I guess we both have a little free time then," Doreen remarked after a 
moment. 

"Hunh?" Pete glanced at her nervously out of the corner of his eye, his gaze 
dropping for just the briefest instant down to the softly curved mounds of 
her half-exposed breasts. 

"Paul is going to be tied up in town until late," she explained. 

"Oh," the young husband croaked, not sure what she had in mind... if 
anything. 

"Otherwise," Doreen went on, carefully studying his face for a reaction, "he 
could have picked me up at the station." 

"That's... uh... that's too bad," Pete said. Then he stiffened as the 
sexy-looking young woman reached up and put her hand softly on the back of 
his neck, fumbling with curls of his thick black hair. 

"Yes," she sighed. "Isn't it, though?" 

Pete wished she hadn't put her hand on his neck. She was so damned 
sexy-looking, it was all he could do to keep himself from practically raping 
her, anyway, and she was only making it all the harder to keep himself under 
control. He tried to concentrate on his driving. In a couple of minutes the 
first signs of the designated exit appeared, and after they'd left the 
freeway, he followed her directions through the new housing development. 

"On the right here," said Doreen, indicating a fashionable ranch-style house 
with adjoining garage. "Just pull into the drive," she added as Pete was 
easing the station wagon to a halt. 

He cast another nervous glance out of the corner of his eye and pulled up in 
the concrete drive, then stopped. "Well. Here you are." 

Doreen smiled. "Don't be silly. I'm not the kind of woman who's going to let 
a man drive her this far out of his way without inviting him in for a drink. 
So come on." 

"Well, I guess," Pete said hesitantly, turning off the ignition. "If you're 
sure it's all right." 

Without answering, the dark-haired young woman stepped out of the car and 
walked swiftly to the front entrance of the house. Pete took a deep breath, 
staring lustfully at the inviting wiggles of her tightly formed buttocks, 
then, he muttered half-aloud, "Easy boy... we don't want to get in any 
trouble." And, trying to keep his mind off the sexiness of his dark-haired 
passenger, he got out and followed. 

Inside, the house was comfortably furnished and modern. Doreen led the 
handsome young gas-station attendant to the family room and, indicating that 
she wanted him to take a seat on the couch, she went toward the bar, asking, 
"What's your poison?" 

"Just a beer if you have it." 

'"Fraid not," she smiled back. "I'll make that two whiskies with soda." 

The sexy-looking brunette poured the drinks and came over to the couch. She 
handed one of them to Pete and placed the other on the low, glass-topped 
coffee table, then moved around it and settled down beside him, so close 
that their arms almost touched. In sitting down, somehow her short skirt 
rode even farther up her naked thighs. The hem lay right at the leg band of 
her brief panties, and the maddening thought of her pussy being concealed by 
nothing but that thin layer of almost transparent silk was enough to send 
Pete's cock lurching excitedly in his tightly confining pants. His breath 
quickened, and he could feel his heart pounding frantically. The teenage 
youth felt a surge of anguish coursing through his brain, he was desperately 
afraid he was going to be unable to control his body... that he was going to 
get a big old hard on, and he knew he'd never be able to conceal. But 
whatever would this older woman think of him? God! She'd think he was 
nothing but some kind of a sex maniac! 

"What are you thinking about?" 

Pete started, her voice interrupting his anguished thoughts, and now he 
realized that all this time he'd been staring at her naked thighs and 
looking right up under her skirt! In agonized embarrassment, he turned to 
face her, and he was surprised to find her leaning so close toward him that 
their faces almost touched. He even could feel her breath blowing softly on 
his lips. Looking quickly away, his eyes fastened on the full swells of her 
nearly exposed breasts, and the sight caused his rapidly expanding cock to 
twitch wildly inside the tightly constricting confines of his trousers. 

"Come on," she purred. "What are you thinking?" 

"I'm just . ; . a man," Pete muttered apologetically. 

The dark-haired woman watched him through sensually narrowed eyes, her own 
forbidden excitement building swiftly in her lewdly aroused young body. Pete 
Flowers, it seemed, was even more innocent than she'd thought. Even now he 
still hadn't completely gotten the message, and for a moment she felt a 
slight twinge of remorse at what she was about to do. After all, if he was 
content to work for peanuts pumping gas the rest of his life, he would 
probably be equally content to remain faithful to the sexy young wife whose 
photographs he'd shown her. They were probably what people like to call 
"happily married." So who was she to interfere? But she had her own feminine 
needs, and she'd made up her mind the first time she'd seen him that she was 
going to have him. Now that the time had come, she wasn't about to thwart 
her passionate hunger just because of outmoded moral considerations. 

"I know you're just a man," Doreen whispered lustfully. "So?" 

"So it's pretty hard for me to... ," Pete began, then his voice trailed off 
as he swallowed loudly. 

"Is it hard?" the lust-driven young brunette teased. "Is it really all that 
hard?" Her hand settled on his firm thigh, barely an inch from this 
burgeoning cock. 

Pete stared at her almost in shock. He could see from the look in her 
sparkling black eyes that now she was doing more than teasing him. She was 
challenging him, and though he knew he wasn't being fair to Rosemary, his 
own lustful need was far beyond control. He could just barely restrain 
himself. 

"What are you going to do, Pete?" Doreen prompted, leaning forward another 
inch so that just the tip of one of her lust-swollen breasts pressed against 
his arm, sending on electric-like thrill of lust racing through his body. 

Pete was silent for a few seconds, his eyes widening, seeming to glaze over, 
as he stared at her face, then down to her succulent-looking breasts and her 
smooth thighs, and again at her face. When he spoke it was through her teeth 
in a low, hoarse voice. "Lady, if you don't get away from me right now, I'm 
just going to fuck the living hell out of you!" 

"Oh yes," the aroused brunette whispered, moving just a fraction closer to 
him. 

Pete slammed his drink down on the table and moved suddenly forward, 
grinding his lips down over Doreen's mouth, over the full mound of one of 
her breasts, his other hand thrusting rapidly up between her thighs to press 
up against the smoldering plane of her softly haired cunt which was 
completely unprotected except for the thin material of her skimpy panties. 

"Ooooh," Doreen moaned, surrendering hungrily to his sudden aggression. She 
parted her full lips eagerly, sucking Pete's gluttonously searching tongue 
willingly into her mouth as she felt the probing fingers of his right hand 
forcing their way down into the top of her blouse to begin to tweak almost 
viciously at the sensitively tingling little bud of her nipple. At the same 
time the fingers of his other hand drew aside the legband of her panties, 
and a low moan swelled from deep in her throat as she felt his middle index 
finger thrusting out to press itself up into the full length of her already 
warmly moistened cuntal-slit. 

Pete was trembling all over and he could feel his massive cock lurching to 
full erection inside his trousers, straining to be free. In his arms, the 
voluptuous young woman's body seemed to be melting in total surrender. One 
of her full breasts was crushed hard against his chest, even as he continued 
to tweak and massage the tingling bud of her other nipple, and, with his 
other hand, he could feel the fiery heat and freely flowing moisture of her 
quivering cunt as the little slit parted defenselessly before the relentless 
pressure of his searching finger. 

Then Pete pulled his lips away from Doreen's. He stared wild-eyed down at 
her lust-contorted face, his hand slipping out of the front of her blouse to 
quickly fumble at the buttons, pulling the lacy white material apart and 
pushing the half-cup brassiere downward until suddenly both the 
succulent-looking nipple-peaked mounds burst into freedom. 

The squirming brunette gave a low sigh as the teenage youth bent down to 
swallow one of her passionately swollen little nipples into his mouth. His 
tongue lashed out like a whip of fire, prompting the straining nub to an 
even greater tingling rigidity. Now his hand up between her thighs was 
working feverishly at her steaming little cunt, his fingers parting the 
hair-lined lips and beginning to probe urgently at the entrance of the still 
softly resisting little orifice, and at the same time she could feel him 
beginning to push forward against her, trying to shove her down on her back 
on the couch. Once he'd moved into action, it seemed Pete wasn't about to 
waste any time at all. But Doreen had plans of her own. Maybe he intended to 
throw her down and fuck her, getting it over with quickly so he could get 
back to his young wife, but the unfaithful dark-haired housewife wanted more 
than that. She'd been dreaming about how she would seduce this handsome 
animal of a young man ever since the first time she'd seen him. She'd worked 
the whole fantasy out in her mind, and she was determined to go through with 
it the way she'd planned, even if she had to struggle to get her way. 

"Wait," Doreen gasped, resisting as Pete increased his efforts to push her 
down on her back. She held his face cradled against her naked breast, and 
she looked down through passion-narrowed eyes as he sucked and licked 
greedily at first one tingling nipple and then the other, his outstretched 
middle finger surging relentlessly deeper and deeper up into the lustfully 
sucking tightness of her cunt. Hugging his face even tighter into the 
voluptuously deep valley between her full breasts, she reached down to the 
front of his uniform, fumbling desperately until she was able to undo the 
zipper, and she pushed him back away from her completely. Then, as he gasped 
in eager anticipation, she slipped her hand into his open fly, cupping it 
around his fervently pulsing cock, and worked it slowly out to freedom. 

A low moan of approval sounded on the aroused brunette's lips as she stared 
down at the exposed and visibly throbbing instrument of lust-hardened flesh. 
With appreciative eyes, she saw that it was a massive cock, almost as big as 
her husband's and tenderly she stroked the foreskin back to expose the 
glistening expanse of the reddish-purple head. Her eager fingers drew the 
pliant flesh as far down the shaft as it would go, causing a spontaneous 
groan to spring from deep in Pete's throat as she slid the loose foreskin 
back up to cover the bulbous head where she could see a tiny drop of pre-cum 
fluid seeping appetizingly from the hole in the tip. 

"Damn! Pete gasped, squirming on the couch, and abruptly pulling his finger 
from her smoldering cuntal area, he cupped and massaged the voluptuously 
exposed mounds of Doreen's lusciously exposed breasts. 

Her massaging hand clung tightly to his turgidly throbbing cock, relishing 
his building excitement as she felt it twitch to greater hardness in her 
palm. Then, she scooted her near-naked buttocks back away from him on the 
couch and leaned over his lap, slowly lowering her lips hungrily down toward 
the distended and upthrust rod of mouth-watering flesh. 

Inches away, the lust-crazed woman hesitated briefly. Again she peeled the 
foreskin back and blew her hot breath down over his naked cock-head, a 
lascivious twinkle coming into her eyes as she gazed at the little drop of 
seminal fluid that had oozed from the slitted glans. Then her tongue flicked 
out to eagerly lap it up, wantonly relishing its musky taste. Then she 
plunged her head lower and took the whole bulbous head in between her 
velvety lips and sucked the spongy cock-head into the warm cavern of her wet 
mouth. She moaned as though with the despair of a lost soul as she tightened 
her full lips and ravenously sucked his desire-bloated cock-shaft into the 
welcoming depths of her mouth. 

"Ooooooohh," came the muffled croon from deep in her throat as Doreen 
struggled to fit her cruelly stretched lips around the lust-swollen bulk of 
his inviting young rod of flesh. She probed her hand down through the open 
fly of Pete's trousers again to cup his sperm-filled testicles, feeling her 
now neglected cunt burning with love-starved passion as it was momentarily 
deprived of his titillating caresses. But she continued her oral 
manipulations without restraint, sucking and licking like a madwoman as she 
felt the younger man begin to hunch and buck up on the couch, fucking his 
thick cock up into her working mouth. Then his hands were suddenly entangled 
in her hair, forcing her face down so tightly to his loins she almost gagged 
from the pressure of the plunging cock-head rammed against the back of her 
throat. She stiffened as she heard the gasps bursting uncontrollably from 
his lips, and with a sudden surge of almost inhuman strength, she freed 
herself from his grasp, raising her head up to let the straining shaft slip 
from her lips, and she lay down on her back with a sigh as she observed his 
angry, shocked face. Now, she thought, he was really aroused and ready to 
go. He was angry as an enraged animal and she could tell from the crazed 
look in his eyes that after what she'd just done to him he would give her 
every bit of the wild and merciless fucking she'd been dreaming about since 
she'd first seen him. 

"Now, Pete," Doreen purred, arching her buttocks up from the couch and 
peeling her tight bikini panties quickly down the full length of her firm 
thighs, leaving her short skirt bunched uselessly at her waist and 
completely exposing to his lustful gaze the silken black triangle of hair 
that adorned the plane of her pubis and the little pink slit of her already 
lewdly moistened cunt. "Now, come on and fuck me. Fuck me like the animal 
you are." 

Pete winced slightly at the challenging remark. He vaguely wondered if 
"animal" was supposed to be a compliment or a slur, but the way he felt 
right now it hardly seemed to matter. He'd forced Rosemary to hesitantly 
kiss and lick his cock a few times, but he'd never had a blow job like this 
- and now she'd stopped before she'd finished, just when it was getting 
really good. He didn't think his cock had ever been as hard as it was right 
now. He could almost feel the cum straining to burst free from his swollen 
balls, and he knew if she hadn't quit when she did, he could have cum right 
in her mouth. In angry frustration, the muscular young man unbuckled his 
belt and pulled his pants and shorts down to his knees. As he reclined 
toward the woman's half-naked but totally surrendered body, briefly had a 
twinge of guilt: this would be the first time since they were married that 
he'd ever been unfaithful to his wife. But, as the dark-haired woman's arms 
came up to pull him quickly down between her widespread thighs, he forgot 
his momentary stab of conscience and Rosemary altogether. 

"Yes," Doreen purred as she felt his rock-hard male shaft of flesh surge up 
against her naked and lewdly moistened pussy. "Yes, come on, you brute, fuck 
me! Fuck me like I've never been fucked before." Then she gasped, her whole 
body stiffening as the pressure against her little cunt-hole was increased. 
With a deeper groan, Pete lunged suddenly forward, and she let her breath 
out in a low sigh, squirming sensuously beneath him as she felt the 
resistance give way and the head of Pete's cock popped into her welcoming 
cunt. Then he stabbed forward again and, with a long sliding movement, the 
bludgeoning shaft of flesh surged up into her streaming pussy relentlessly 
deeper pushing aside the walls of her urgently clasping inner cunt until the 
entire massive length of his invading cock was embedded up in her to the 
very hilt. 

Now Pete heaved out a deep sigh, lying still upon her impaled body for a 
brief moment. "Goddamn, that's tight," he grunted as he felt Doreen flex her 
warm inner muscles softly around his throbbing hardness. Then, her hands 
roving up over his back, she began to slowly squirm and undulate her 
buttocks. As he adjusted to the exquisite and vice-like tightness, Pete also 
began to move his body. He thrust in and out with increasingly faster 
strokes, feeling their pelvic flesh slap resoundingly together as she 
strained back beneath him. The mewling dark-haired woman arched her naked 
loins up to meet his ramming cock, moaning incessantly and biting hungrily 
at his lips as both of them began quickly to lose control. 

"Oh yes," Doreen whimpered pleading leg. "Come on! Don't hold back! Don't 
hold back!" 

Pete could hardly believe it. He'd only begun fucking her a minute or so 
ago, and already it seemed she was ready to cum. He'd never seen Rosemary 
get so excited so quickly, and she was clinging to him tightly, her lovely 
long legs wrapped around his buttocks her strong thighs squeezing his slim 
hips, slacking and clamping as her hungry pussy milked his pistoning cock 
with maddeningly spasmodic clenchings. She thrust her face up, her lips 
feverishly meeting his to again suck his tongue deep in toward her throat. 
Then she let her head fall back on the cushion, and she watched him with 
dreamy eyes as he built his own thrusting lunges to a staccato, ascending to 
a violent shattering crescendo as she wailed her assent. 

"Yes! Cum in me, cum in me!" 

A moment later it happened. Pete felt Doreen's fingernails tearing at the 
skin of his back as she pulled her thighs up until her knees rested against 
her shoulders, presenting him with a stretched and widely gaping fissure of 
moistly hair-lined flesh as he rolled into her with pile-driving thrusts. 
Her mouth fell open, working fish-like, her nostrils flaring and her dark 
eyes glazing over. Then she emitted a sudden shrill squeal, dropping her 
legs down to plant her feet on the couch for leverage. She was bucking 
frenziedly up against him, her working body shuddering uncontrollably with a 
wild orgasm as she squealed and gasped out her ecstasy. Her tight-fitting 
pussy clasped and relaxed convulsively around this deep-slamming cock as his 
fiery cum raced from the sanctuary of his balls to spurt in white-hot jets 
far up in the depths of her quavering womb. 

At last the frenzy passed, and Pete heaved out his breath, his body sagging 
heavily on Doreen, who lay trembling gently beneath him, her hand now 
stroking tenderly across his back on the outside of his shirt. For a moment 
he thought of nothing. Then he reminded himself of his conquest. Silently, 
he congratulated himself - though Rosemary was a disturbing shadow in the 
back of his mind. The woman beneath him seemed to him now to be hardly even 
human, just a piece of nameless female flesh that was of no further value or 
use. His vague thoughts grew muddled and he almost dozed. It seemed he was 
just drifting into a dream when he felt the woman stiffen and raise her 
head. He opened his eyes, returning abruptly to full consciousness and 
staring down at her face with alarm as he heard a car engine outside, and 
then the opening and closing of the car door. 

"That's Paul," Doreen said, though seemingly without alarm. "Here, we'd 
better straighten ourselves out a little before he comes in." 

"A little?" Pete stammered with amazement, jerking his half-deflated cock 
from her cunt with a wet popping sound, and he quickly started to pull up 
his trousers as Doreen kicked her panties underneath the couch and worked 
the cups of her brassiere back up over the luscious mounds of her breasts. 
Noting the cum-stains on the cushion of the couch, Pete slid over to sit on 
the damp spot as a means of keeping it concealed. Doreen pulled her skirt 
down and managed to halfway button her blouse. She was just handing him his 
glass of whiskey, the ice now melted, when they heard the front door open 
and Paul Jarvis's heavy footsteps coming down the hall. 

"Jesus Christ," Pete whispered. Then he turned to stare in alarm at the 
woman, whose face was still conspicuously flushed from her orgasm, as she 
reached over to take his hand in hers. She squeezed it tightly, then 
released it just as her husband came in. 

"Paul!" Doreen said, rising. 

Jarvis stopped just inside the door, looking first at his wife, then at 
Pete. 

"You remember Pete Flowers, don't you Paul," the brunette said, moving 
around the table and walking toward the tall, broad-shouldered 
thirty-five-year-old man. "I was telling you he was going to have the MG 
greased for me." 

"Oh yeah!" Paul exclaimed as if he'd remembered only with the help of 
prompting something he should have known immediately. 

"Peter," Doreen said. "Come and shake hands with Paul." She laughed gaily. 
"How do you like that? Peter and Paul. If I were only... what was her name?" 
She paused, looking back at Pete, who remained where he was, sitting on the 
cum stain on the couch. "Come on, Peter. Don't be bashful." 

Reluctantly Pete stood. He lifted his drink to his lips and downed a good 
shot. He tried to block the view of the stain as he moved toward Doreen's 
husband. Shaking his hand, Pete could hardly meet his eyes, and he couldn't 
believe it wasn't perfectly obvious what had been happening. He couldn't 
understand how the man could miss it. Couldn't a guy tell by looking when 
his wife had just been fucked? 

"Peter was kind enough to drive me back here," Doreen explained with a 
casualness Pete found incomprehensible. "I thought it only fair I offer him 
a drink for his trouble." 

"By all means!" said Jarvis. He smiled at Pete. "Doreen tells me you've been 
servicing her." 

"Paul!" Doreen chided. 

"Servicing the MG, I mean," the man added with a burst of raucous laughter. 

"Yes, s - sir," Pete stammered nervously. "We're always... uh... glad to 
have regular customers." He looked away, quickly downed the rest of his 
drink, and turned to set the glass on the table. "I... I'd better get going. 
I told my wife I'd be an hour late and by the time I get home the... the 
hour will be up." 

"Of course," said Jarvis. "Don't want to keep the little lady waiting." 

"Well, good day, sir. Ma'am," Pete said, starting to move awkwardly toward 
the door. 

"Doreen tells me she's quite a dish," Jarvis said. 

Pete stopped, knitting his brows as he tried to evaluate the remark. 

"I was wondering if you two would like to have dinner with us here on Friday 
evening? Dinner and drinks, you know." 

Pete frowned. Paul Jarvis was staring straight into his eyes. He didn't know 
what to say. None of it made sense, and he felt at the same time suspicious 
and guilty. 

"What do you say, Pete?" Doreen urged. 

Pete opened his mouth to refuse, but no words came. How could he accept a 
dinner invitation from a man who's wife he'd just fucked? By the same token, 
how could he turn it down? 

"But... I just don't know why you'd want to invite us to dinner?" Pete 
managed at last. "And... and Rosemary, you don't even know her. She's kind 
of shy and I'm afraid she might be... she might be uncomfortable." He fell 
silent, noting the look of amused reproach Doreen flashed him. She obviously 
understood. What he'd really meant was that he would be uncomfortable. 

"Listen, Pete," Jarvis said in a patronizing voice. He walked over and put 
his hand on Pete's shoulder, and gazing seriously down into the younger 
man's eyes. "Doreen probably mentioned I'm in the used car business?" 

"Yes." 

"And being in that business, I've got what you might call an unnatural 
respect for automobiles, the ones I'm responsible for, that is. I respect my 
cars the same way I respect my bank account, or my home. Almost the same way 
I respect my wife and... myself." He waited for this to sink in, not a 
glimmer of humor showing on his face. "Now I want to know my banker 
personally. I want to know personally anybody who comes into my home, my 
castle. I want to know my wife's friends personally, and I do know you are 
getting to be a friend of my wife. And I want to know personally the man who 
is taking care of my automobiles. And that's you." He paused. "So now you 
understand why I must insist you accept my hospitality." 

Pete looked down at the floor. "I - I guess so," he said after a moment. 

"So we'll see you here Friday. Eight o'clock all right with you?" 

Pete bit his lip. "Yeah, that's fine. Eight o'clock." He cast a quick 
furtive look at Doreen, then turned quickly and went out the door. 

Paul Jarvis listened to the youth's footsteps growing quieter as he went 
down the hall. He waited for the door to slam before he turned away, walked 
to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink. Only after he'd taken a long 
gulp did he look at his wife, who'd been observing him with amusement since 
the moment Pete was out of their sight. 

"Well?" he asked. 

She shrugged. "I guess you figure you've set the trap, hunh? Paul Jarvis, 
the great white hunter." 

"Yeah," Jarvis said and drank again. "If you want to play games, I'll play 
games. No punk kid like that screws my woman without putting up something up 
in return. And don't you think I can't see your panties sticking out from 
beneath the end of the sofa. The only thing I'm worried about now - his wife 
better be as good looking as you said." 

"She is," said Doreen. "But I don't think she'll be easy." 

"I don't like 'em easy." 

 CHAPTER THREE 

It had begun to rain, and Pete Flowers squinted through the windshield, 
almost blinded by the headlights of the stream of automobiles coming in the 
opposite direction. He was nervous, on edge, troubled by an inner turmoil he 
couldn't quite conceal. Rosemary regarded him tenderly and reached up to 
place her hand lightly on his shoulder. Dressed up in a low-cut black gown 
with only thin straps over her shoulders, she was radiantly beautiful 
tonight. 

"What's the matter, Pete?" she asked softly, squeezing her husband's arm 
through the material of his sport-coat. It was the same coat, she reflected, 
that he'd worn two years ago when he'd taken her to the junior prom. Though 
he'd put on a little weight, he hadn't really grown since then. And though 
he'd paid over eighty dollars for the gown she was wearing, he'd bought 
almost nothing new for himself since they'd been married - except of course 
necessary work clothing. "What's the matter, Honey?" Rosemary repeated. 

"Nothing." 

The voluptuous blonde-haired teenager watched her husband intently, 
perceptively. She dropped her hand down to his thigh and leaned closer to 
him. "We didn't have to come," she said. "I mean, we can still turn around 
and go back. It was you who wanted to come." 

He turned to look at her, his face tight with strain. For a moment his eyes 
dropped to the swells of her breasts, half-exposed by the low-cut gown, 
accented by a sparkling imitation diamond necklace. "Goddamn, you're 
beautiful," he croaked and turned his eyes back to the road. 

Rosemary beamed. She squeezed his thigh, leaned over and kissed him on the 
neck, then settled back in her seat. What she'd said, she mused, wasn't 
quite correct. It had never been that Pete wanted to come. When he'd 
mentioned to her, a couple of nights ago, that one of his customers at the 
station had invited them to dinner, she'd had the vague feeling he wanted 
her to say no. In fact, she had offered a slight resistance to the idea, and 
though he'd insisted she felt even then he secretly hoped she would raise a 
stronger objection. But though she found Pete's having accepted the 
invitation completely contrary to his nature, as his socializing primarily 
consisted of nothing more than an occasional outing with a few of his 
high-school buddies, she'd had no real objection. She couldn't imagine how 
Pete had gotten himself invited to the home of this "older" couple, as he'd 
referred to them. But for her own part, she welcomed the chance to get out 
of the house and meet some new people. 

They traveled in silence for a few more miles, then Pete slowed the station 
wagon and took the Vista Verde exit. As they pulled to a stop the before the 
ranch style house, Rosemary was astonished to see the two expensive-looking 
automobiles parked in the drive. For a moment it occurred to her that Pete 
must have made some very wealthy friends. Then she remembered that he'd said 
the man was a used car salesman and realized that probably explained his 
possession of these two luxury vehicles. 

Pete got out and came around to open the door for her. Rosemary retrieved 
her plastic raincoat from the back seat, placed it over her head, and they 
hurried up the walk. As they ascended the steps a voluptuous brunette, 
younger than Rosemary had expected, opened the door to let them in. 

"You must be Rosemary," the woman said warmly, taking her coat and looking 
her over in a way that made the younger housewife feel slightly 
uncomfortable. "Come on to the family room. We'll have a drink while Paul 
finishes getting the streaks ready. Oh, I hope you like fresh oysters. 
That's what we're having for openers." 

Pete sipped his own drink nervously as the two women got acquainted over a 
pitcher of martinis. He noticed that Doreen Jarvis carried herself with 
perfect poise. She seemed completely unconcerned about what had happened 
between them the other day. It wasn't that she acted as if it hadn't 
happened; she acted simply as if it didn't matter, as if it were perfectly 
natural, and if she were the least bit concerned that Rosemary might suspect 
something, she didn't let it show. But of course Rosemary would suspect 
nothing. That was Rosemary's way. She was a little shy, but she opened up 
immediately to the other woman, the way she opened up to nearly everybody. 
That was her nature, and though it was a quality Pete liked in her, it was 
also occasionally disturbing. Rosemary naturally got a lot of attention from 
men, and that fact had always been a source of preoccupation for Pete. He 
was proud of her, proud to see men envious of him for having such a 
beautiful wife. But it disturbed him slightly that Rosemary enjoyed this 
attention. Not that she was inviting it, or playing tease. She enjoyed it 
simply, as a child enjoys praise. 

The women were well into their second drink when Paul Jarvis made his 
appearance and announced that the steaks would be ready to broil as soon as 
they'd finished their oysters. He shook hands warmly with Pete, though there 
was a disturbing glint in his eye that the younger man couldn't quite 
comprehend. Then he turned his attention to the young blonde. 

"Paul, this is Rosemary Flowers," Doreen said, getting up from the couch and 
taking Rosemary's hand. "I told you she was lovely. She's even lovelier than 
her pictures." 

Pete shifted nervously on his feet . and took a long sip of his martini. 
Paul Jarvis winked at him briefly and looked back at Rosemary. 

"The first time I saw Pete at the station," Paul said, taking her hand and 
holding it, his eyes devouring the softly exposed skin of her neck and upper 
breasts, "I said there's a young man who's nobody's fool. You're living 
proof that I wasn't wrong." 

Rosemary blushed slightly. "Oh, thank you." She started to draw away, but 
Jarvis still clung to her hand. Observing this, Pete tightened his own hand 
around his glass until his knuckles turned white. He watched Jarvis reach up 
to lift the necklace away from Rosemary's golden flesh, examining it 
curiously before he dropped it back in place. 

"Real, I presume?" Now he did release her hand. 

"Oh no," Rosemary said. "I'm afraid it's just glass." 

"On you they look better than diamonds." 

* * * 

Neither Pete nor Rosemary had ever indulged themselves with raw oysters, and 
if it hadn't been for the generous amount of gin they'd drunk before dinner 
they might have balked at trying them. But though Rosemary thought they 
looked hideously slimy, they did have a surprisingly pleasant flavor if 
swallowed with enough lemon juice. And, as Paul laughingly pointed out, 
there was always the chance of finding a pearl. The oysters were accompanied 
by a chilled white wine which, drunk on top of the martinis, was causing 
Rosemary to really loosen up. She gigglingly remarked that she thought raw 
oysters were supposed to be an aphrodisiac. 

"That's a myth," Paul Jarvis explained. "It originated during the potato 
famine in Ireland. Everyone was underfed. But the high protein content in 
oysters usually gave a man enough strength to get it up after he'd eaten a 
few." 

"Paul!" Doreen exclaimed. "Don't be crude." 

Pete observed his giggling wife uncomfortably. "Honey," he whispered as Paul 
went out to cook the steaks in the barbecue he'd set up on the screened back 
porch, "don't drink so fast. Just take it easy, hunh?" 

Red wine was served with the steaks and baked potatoes. 

"A man in my business learns to appreciate a guy like Pete," Paul explained 
as they ate. He looked Rosemary in the eye. "You know, the world is still a 
jungle, the civilized world as much as what's left of the jungle itself. The 
civilized world is an artificial jungle. We created it because by nature 
we're jungle animals. And the used car business is a perfect microcosm of 
the jungle in the jungle." 

"What's a microcosm?" Rosemary interrupted. 

"A small world. A world within a world where the part is a perfect miniature 
of the whole." Rosemary obviously still didn't quite understand. Nor did 
Pete, though there was something about the trend of the conversation that 
bothered and flattered him at once. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew 
Pete Jarvis knew something he didn't know. He might have fucked Paul's wife. 
Paul's wife might have sucked his cock until he'd almost cum in her mouth. 
But Paul still seemed to know a lot more, and he was both impressed and 
upset. "I respect Pete," Paul went on. "The easiest thing to do is sell a 
car to a sucker. You wouldn't believe the things I pull on people. Maybe you 
wouldn't even approve. 

But somebody's going to do it and I figure it might as well be me. But I 
know I could never sell Pete a lemon, and in my book that already gives him 
an edge on the world." 

Pete grinned. He couldn't help feeling good. He did know cars, and he was 
glad to be recognized. He may not have finished high school, but there were 
a lot of guys who'd been to college even who didn't know as much about cars 
as he did. "Hell," Pete said, the wine finally getting to him. "There are 
doctors and lawyers who don't know as much about cars as I do!" 

"See?" Jarvis bellowed, reaching across the table to shake Pete's hand. "Not 
only is he nobody's fool. He'd nobody's fool and he knows it!" 

Rosemary tried to get Doreen to let her clear away the dishes, but their 
hostess absolutely refused to allow it. Dinner was followed by coffee with 
cognac, then at Paul's invitation they all retired to the family room again, 
where the Jarvis's wanted to show them films they'd made on an eight 
millimeter camera of their vacation the previous summer in Mexico. As Paul 
set up the screen, which consisted of a sheet hung on the wall, then placed 
the projector in position, Doreen hustled Pete and Rosemary to the couch and 
served them fresh glasses of cognac. She left the room and returned 
momentarily with several large cushions which she scattered about the floor. 

"You can move down here if you get tired of the couch," she said before 
dousing the lights. 

The color film featured a fiesta in a lovely old town called San Miguel 
Allende, which Paul explained celebrated the uprising against Spain in the 
first half of the Nineteenth Century. There was an elaborate fireworks 
display, some scenes of a bullfight which were bloody enough to make 
Rosemary almost cry in sympathy with the animal, films of Indians in bright 
native costumes and of street dancing - all interspersed with shots of 
Doreen and Paul hamming it up among the natives and their fellow tourists. 
Rosemary, feeling now very warm as a result of all the alcohol she'd drunk, 
snuggled warmly against Pete on the couch. When the first reel ended, Paul 
managed to start another without turning up the lights. This was filmed in 
the same town, though not during fiesta. After that reel ended he put on 
another, and when the screen lit up Rosemary almost jumped out of her seat. 

There in living color was a girl, clad in nothing but a pair of panties and 
a skimpy garter belt, lying on a bed and looking sultry-eyed at the camera. 

"Goddamn it!" Paul muttered under his breath, quickly reaching up to stop 
the projector. 

"What was that?" Rosemary gasped, leaning forward to stare in the darkness 
down at her host and hostess. 

"Paul," Doreen chided. "How could you?" 

"What was it?" Rosemary insisted, giggling spontaneously as she anticipated 
the answer. 

"It's a stag film," Doreen said as Paul flicked on the light. "An old stag 
film from Tijuana." 

"Not the best in the world either," Paul said, smiling at the couple on the 
couch. "But it's all I have right now. My good stuff is loaned out to some 
friends of ours." 

"We went to see "Deep Throat," Rosemary said proudly. 

"Well, we can have a look at this one if you want to," Paul offered. "Whatta 
you say, Pete? You must have seen some of these Tijuana jobs at some time or 
another?" 

Pete hesitated, aware that everyone in the room was watching him. He took 
another sip of his drink and laughed nervously. "I dunno. Rosemary?" 

"Don't put Rosemary on the spot," Doreen said. "It's up to you." 

For a moment Pete wondered if there was any danger in a stag film leading to 
a discussion that might cause Rosemary to suspect that something had 
happened between him and Doreen. But it hardly seemed likely. And it seemed 
that everyone else, even his own wife, did want to see the film. At last he 
shrugged. "I don't mind. Sure, let's see it." 

"All right, kids, you asked for it," Paul said, starting the projector again 
and quickly switching off the light. 

Rosemary slid slightly over on the couch, so that her body was no longer 
touching Pete's. Again she leaned forward, staring intently at the screen as 
the picture returned. The girl was Mexican, with black hair, deeply tanned 
skin, and full breasts peeked by mauve nipples that stood out rigidly from 
the voluptuous mounds. For a moment she just lay where she was, staring with 
narrowed eyes at the camera. Then she began to writhe slowly on the bed, 
running her hands across her body, down over her breasts, at last beginning 
to toy with the garter-belt, loosening her nylons to peel them slowly down 
off her thighs. 

As Paul had warned, the film wasn't that great. In fact, Rosemary tried to 
remind herself as the girl stripped and greeted a rather self-conscious 
looking lover, it was really no comparison to the film they'd seen in the 
almost respectable movie theater in downtown San Diego. But though she 
didn't at the time understand exactly why, watching it in the theater was 
different. The very fact of being in a vast crowd of people, all strangers, 
offered an insulation that was lacking now. Now they were almost alone with 
just one other couple in a dimly lighted room with cushions spread on the 
floor. And though there was nothing in the film that should have turned her 
on, her consciousness of the circumstances caused unwanted little tremors of 
excitement to begin to course through her loins and breasts. It seemed so 
jaded, so wicked, somehow, what they were doing. And somehow her 
consciousness of that excited her. 

A moment later she understood why. 

Rosemary had been so engrossed with what she was witnessing on the screen 
that she hadn't even noticed what was happening in real life on the floor 
before her. But a soft moan had attracted her attention, and the sight that 
greeted her as she lowered her gaze was almost more than she could believe. 
Outlined in the flickering light of the make-shift picture screen were Paul 
and Doreen Jarvis. They were reclined on a couple of the large pillows, 
their bodies very close together. Doreen was on her back, her gown undone 
down the back and pulled off her shoulders so it hung to her waist and 
completely exposed her voluptuously high-set breasts. Paul was still 
clothed, lying on his side against his wife, but Rosemary was not deluded by 
the fact that one of her hands was pressed down against the front of his 
pants, and she knew instinctively that the dark-haired wife must be 
massaging her husband's penis even as he was tweaking and fondling her 
luscious breasts. 

Rosemary jerked her eyes suddenly away, turning to look at Pete and 
discovering that he was also aware of what was going on in front of them on 
the floor. He was staring at the other couple, fascinated as she was, and 
his jaw had gone slack so that his mouth hung open with surprise. Rosemary 
watched him for a moment, so shocked she couldn't even bring herself to 
speak. Then, as she also turned her own attention back to their host and 
hostess, Paul Jarvis seemed to sense that they were being watched. He turned 
suddenly away from his wife, propping himself up on one elbow to stare back 
at Rosemary with a gleam in his eye that reminded her of an animal caught in 
the headlights of an automobile on a lonely road late at night. 

"You kids don't mind us," he said with a short, queer-sounding burst of 
laughter. "We run a pretty loose ship around here after dark, so you might 
as well take advantage of the movie and have some fun yourselves." 

As Rosemary and Pete both gawked at him in astonishment, the older man 
winked at them, then rolled suddenly on his back. And now the innocent 
blonde-naked young wife almost fainted at the next revelation which 
confronted her. 

Paul Jarvis's trousers were unzipped. His cock protruded lewdly to freedom, 
standing up in an obscene erection, thick and tall as the trunk of a tree, 
an enormously menacing object that looked too big for any woman to take up 
in the confines of her vagina. The older man's naked cock was completely 
exposed to Rosemary's view, and even in the dim light she could see it 
almost visibly pulsing. And as Paul waited, on his back on the cushions, his 
half-naked wife rose to a kneeling position at his mid-section, bending 
slowly over him so her big full breasts hung toward his thighs as she 
lowered her face toward her husband's palpitating rod of flesh. 

Rosemary's heart was pounding even more rapidly as she watched the woman's 
hand reach out to wrap around the erect and straining hardness, stroking the 
tautly stretched skin around the base, beginning to work her hand slowly up 
and down. Then she leaned her face lower, and Rosemary let out a low gasp as 
she realized what Doreen was going to do. She was going to take Paul's rigid 
cock in her mouth. Right here in front of the younger married couple, their 
hostess was going to suck their host. 

Doreen Jarvis emitted a groan of lascivious anticipation as her tongue 
flicked from her mouth to lick up a little droplet of oozing seminal fluid 
that had seeped from the glans at the tip of her husband's cock. At that 
titillating contact, it seemed to grow even larger, reaching up like a plant 
reaching for the sun. Again Doreen's tongue flicked out, caressing slowly 
down along the straining shaft. Then she ovaled her lips and with a low 
whimper took the purplish lust-swollen head up into the moist cavity of her 
mouth. 

For a brief moment Rosemary's eyes strayed back to the screen, and she was 
shocked to see that the girl in the film was doing the same thing for her 
actor-lover as Doreen Jarvis was doing for Paul. The man was standing beside 
the bed, his trousers dropped to his ankles, and the woman was holding his 
cock in one hand, licking and sucking him, and using her other hand to 
finger-fuck herself in the cunt. 

"Uuuggghhh!" Paul Jarvis groaned, shifting slightly on the cushions and 
reaching up to run his hands through his wife's hair and hold her face to 
his loins as he suddenly lunged his buttocks upward to thrust his massive 
penis even deeper between her lips, ramming it all the way into her mouth 
until the wiry bush of pubic hair nestled against Doreen's nose and chin. 

"Oh my God," Rosemary whispered, transfixed by the obscenely shocking scene 
taking place before her. She couldn't tear her eyes away from it. This was 
like some terrible dream, a horrible dream from which she was unable to 
awake, and she was so mesmerized by the lewd display that she became almost 
unconscious of her surroundings. It was as if the performance was taking 
place for her alone, as if it were her own private vision. She even forgot 
about Pete, and as she watched Paul Jarvis pull his wife's dress on down off 
her clefted buttocks and smoothly-tanned thighs, then strip away her 
clinging bikini panties to leave her completely naked above him, the 
horrified blonde-haired girl emitted a low wail of mingled outrage and lust. 
On the screen the Mexican girl pulled her lover down on top of her, parting 
her thighs wide and seizing his now fully erected cock to guide it toward 
the hair-fringed lips of her warmly moistened cunt. On the floor Doreen 
Jarvis let her husband's wantonly twitching and even more monstrously 
erected hardness slip from her lips. She gasped to catch her breath, then 
moaned with greater anticipation as he pushed her down to a reclining 
position on her belly. Rolling over to mount her like a dog from behind, 
Paul stared greedily up at Rosemary as his kneeling wife reached behind her 
to seize his turgid cock and guide it into the softly glistening crevice 
between the nakedly clenching cheeks of her buttocks. And as Rosemary stared 
down at the older man's lust-strained face, she felt Pete's arm suddenly 
move up around her neck, his hand dropping eagerly down to caress the softly 
exposed upper portions of her breasts as he turned her forcibly toward him 
and kissed her hungrily on the lips. 

Rosemary didn't know what to think, and for a moment she neither responded 
nor resisted. She was almost in a daze. She had become so engrossed in 
watching the obscene display taking place before her that she'd forgotten 
all about Pete. And it was only belatedly, as she felt his tongue thrust 
deep into her mouth, his right hand forcing its way down the front of her 
dress to cup over the fullness of one of her breasts and his left cup over 
the fullness of one of her breasts and his left hand tugging the hem of her 
skirt up off her slender thighs, that she became aware of what he had in 
mind. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to fuck her right here in the same 
room where their host and hostess were already wildly copulating. 

Pete Flowers felt his wife stiffening beneath his touch. He heard the low 
wail of protest in her throat that was muffled by the presence of his own 
tongue in her mouth. For a moment he hesitated, his hand grasping her thigh 
just above the knee. He considered releasing her from his grip, jerking her 
to her feet and leading her, without a word of thanks or a goodbye to their 
hosts, out of the house. Other than fucking her, just like Paul and Doreen 
were doing on the floor, that seemed the only alternative. And though 
instinct told him that would be the wisest choice, he couldn't bring himself 
to do it. He felt a kind of awed respect for both of the Jarvis', and he 
thought it must only be his own lack of experience that made their actions 
seem so blatant; furthermore, he couldn't bear the idea of making himself 
look like even a greater square in the eye of the more sophisticated couple. 
Nor could he and Rosemary continue to just sit here and gawk at them. Short 
of leaving, their only choice was to take Paul's advice and get in on the 
fun. 

"Oooh," Rosemary whined, shaking her head in protest as Pete pulled up her 
dress, exposing her panties, and the forcibly lifting her buttocks up from 
the couch so he could free the gown from beneath them and bunch it up around 
her waist. She stared at her husband through glazed eyes as she felt his 
hand slip down into the tight elastic waistband of her sheer white panties, 
his fingers forcing their way through the sparse curls of her silken 
cunt-hair and down into the forbidden "vee" between her thighs, rubbing 
against the sensitive little button of her clitoris. She felt an electric 
tingle of unwanted delight go darting up her spine, battling with her 
indignation at her husband's taking such liberties with her in the presence 
of these two nearly complete strangers. She struggled for a moment between 
resistance and surrender, her body trembling as she felt Pete's fingers part 
the hair-fringed lips of her already moistened pussy and worm their way 
forcibly up into the tightly clasping little orifice. Then, with a desperate 
effort, she jerked her face back away from his, staring angrily into his 
eyes. "No, Pete! No! I'm not going to do it! Not here!" 

Hearing a soft chuckle from the man on the floor, Pete glanced down for an 
instant at the wantonly writhing couple, then glared back vehemently at his 
wife. Deep down inside, he knew she was right. He knew they had no business 
even being here, just as he'd had no business coming in the other day when 
Doreen had invited him for a drink and then proceeded to seduce him. But the 
same kind of compulsion that had driven him that day seemed still to possess 
him now. He knew what they should do, but in spite of that knowledge he felt 
compelled to do just the opposite. 

"I won't do it!" Rosemary hissed again, trying with all her might to pull 
Pete's hand out from between her thighs. 

Her protests only increased his insane lust, and as Rosemary struggled, Pete 
exerted his superior strength, and, extending his middle finger, he forced 
it even deeper up into the tightly resisting little orifice of her cunt. And 
as she spoke, the edge of hysteria she heard in her voice was almost enough 
to break her. 

In a sudden rage, Pete hissed back, "Are you trying to make a fool of me?" 

Rosemary sighed weakly, sobbing, as her strength left her body, and she gave 
up all resistance. That wasn't her intent at all. She'd only wanted to stop 
him because she felt that what they were doing was a mistake. She knew it 
was a mistake. Maybe it was all right for these people to make love like 
this, in front of another couple, but she knew instinctively that it was 
wrong for her and Pete. In a way she still couldn't quite comprehend, she 
knew it was courting disaster. But Pete was beyond reason, now, as he felt 
his burgeoning cock throbbing madly in the tight confines of his trousers, 
and Rosemary realized it would be useless to try to dissuade him. 

Letting her body go limp, Rosemary allowed Pete to lift her up and turn her 
around, placing her in a straddling position over his lap. She whimpered 
mournfully as she felt him reach down between her thighs to unzip his pants 
and free the rock-hard shaft of his cock. She gasped, straining and grunting 
as he guided it up between her thighs, ramming it slowly and surely to the 
very hilt up in her futilely resisting little cunt. She sobbed as she heard 
the woman on the floor start an insane cry, like a waiting banshee, that 
marked the beginning of her climax. But she knew she would not cum herself. 
There was no hope of that under these circumstances. She would only be a 
sacrifice to her husband's selfish lust, a receptacle of the fluid of his 
sex as she herself languished in shame and frustration, fucked but not 
fulfilled. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Pete stood in the door of the gas station, gazing across the drive at the 
red MG and the sensuous brunette woman who sat behind the wheel, eyeing him 
with her now familiar teasing invitation. 

"Goddamn," said Gus behind him. "There she is again, and boy, has she really 
got the hots for you. You oughtta get into some of that, man." 

"I have," Pete said tersely without looking back. 

He waited for a moment longer, watching the woman with a mixture of 
resentment and embarrassment, then strode quickly across the drive toward 
the car. 

"Hello Pete," Doreen said, her gaze taking in his sinewy, muscular physique. 

"Hello Doreen. Fill her up?" 

"No thanks. I got gas yesterday when I came to pick it up." She paused, 
moistening her lips. "You weren't here." 

"I had a hangover," Pete said, and though that was the truth, it wasn't the 
real reason he'd called in sick. After what had happened at the Jarvis' the 
night before, he and Rosemary had hardly even been able to face each other 
when they got home. They'd undressed in silence; they'd slept, facing 
opposite directions, on opposite sides of the bed. In the morning the 
tension had remained, and he hadn't been able to face the idea of spending a 
whole day at the station, not knowing what she was doing or how she felt. 
He'd hoped, by remaining at home with her, to patch up what had happened the 
night before. But in fact, he'd accomplished nothing. It was still as if 
everything had changed between them. Their line of communication, if not cut 
completely, was severely weakened. 

"I guess things got a little out of hand for you two," Doreen said with a 
laugh. "That's Paul. Just his idea of a good time, you know. Get a group of 
friends together and fuck." 

In spite of everything that had happened Pete experienced a twinge of shock 
at hearing this beautiful and sophisticated-looking woman use that word 
which, until a few days ago, he'd thought was reserved for the private 
conversations of men. 

"That Rosemary. She's such a sweet child," Doreen went on sympathetically. 
"I guess she really was shocked. But she'll get over it." 

"I guess," Pete said uncertainly. 

Doreen watched him mischievously for a moment. "You and I have to get 
together again some time." 

"What?" Pete gasped, not sure he'd heard correctly. "What do you mean?" 

Doreen reached out the window and took his hand. "What do you think I mean, 
lover-boy? You and I should get together again some time. Wouldn't you like 
that, Pete?" 

"Yeah, I guess so," Pete stammered, his eyes wandering over the soft curves 
of Doreen's body. "Yeah, sure. When?" 

"It's a little touchy right now. Paul can become very suspicious, at times. 
But what I was thinking, we're giving a party next Saturday night for some 
friends. Not private and intimate, like the other night." She laughed. 
"Maybe you're relieved to hear that. But anyway, I wouldn't have any trouble 
slipping off for an hour or so. So why don't you and Rosemary come there. 
I'll get one of the other girls to keep her occupied while you and I are 
gone." 

Pete bit his lip and shook his head. "Rosemary won't come," he said. "She 
won't want to come and I wouldn't want to bring her if she did. She's just 
not that kind of girl." 

"What kind of girl?" Doreen said in a raised voice. "Do you think I'm some 
kind of whore just because I don't mind who sees me doing it with my 
husband? Or because I screw around on the side once in a while?" 

"I didn't say that. I just don't think we should come to your house again. 
It would be embarrassing for her, that's all." 

Doreen looked Pete straight in the eyes. "Young man, this is the twentieth 
century. Times have changed. Rosemary may have a few adjustments to make, 
but I'll promise you she's not the kind of girl who's going to be left 
behind for long. You may think she won't change, because you don't want her 
to, because you want to keep the same woman you knew when you were a kid. 
But Rosemary has a lot of potential for loosening up. I'm a woman too. I 
know. I went through the same period of transition after I married Paul. And 
if you try to hold her back, you may be the one who gets left behind." She 
paused, letting the words sink in. "Think about it. I'll see you both 
Saturday night. Around eight." 

She released his hand, jammed the car into gear, and pulled away. 

Pete watched the MG merge back into the traffic. He stared after it 
thoughtfully until it had disappeared from sight, then turned and walked 
back into the station where Gus sat with his feet propped on the desk, 
watching him curiously. The disturbed young man lit a cigarette and puffed 
on it bitterly in short, swift drags. 

"No shit, man?" the other attendant said after a moment. "You don't 'spect 
me to believe you really got into that chick, do you?" 

Pete scowled and tossed his cigarette away. "I don't give one goddamn what 
you believe!" 

The last two hours of the shift dragged by slowly and Pete got into his 
station wagon and left. Rosemary was in the living room watching the news on 
television when he got home. She glanced up briefly as he came in, then 
returned her attention to the screen. Pete stood in the doorway, silently 
watching her. She had her profile turned to him, and he studied the classic 
tilt of her chin, her straight nose, her full ruby lips. He looked at the 
upthrust and pointed mounds of her breasts straining against her sweater, 
standing up full and firm with no need of a brassiere. He looked at her pale 
hands, at the long slender fingers that now fidgeted nervously in her lap. 
He made a quick comparison with Doreen Jarvis and he decided, he thought, 
once and for all and without reservation, that he'd made the right choice. 
It had done his ego a lot of good to make it with the other woman, and he 
would have liked to make it with her again... but not at the risk of losing 
his wife. And now the big problem was to somehow heal the rift between them. 

"Doreen called me," Rosemary said without looking up. 

Pete's first impulse was to believe that the brunette had gotten angry about 
his refusal to accept her invitation to the party and had decided to tell on 
him. But he quickly recovered himself, concluding that Rosemary would be 
more disturbed than she appeared now if she found out he'd been fooling 
around with another woman. 

"Doreen Jarvis?" he asked after a moment. 

Rosemary looked up. "She called to invite us to a party Saturday night. A 
regular party, she said. Not like night before last. She apologized on 
Paul's behalf about that. But this Saturday night, she really wants us to 
come." 

"So... what did you tell her?" 

"I told her I'd have to ask you first." 

Pete moved several paces forward and stopped, staring intently into 
Rosemary's clear blue eyes, trying to fathom her feelings. But he just 
couldn't tell. It seemed, by one way of looking at it, that she might even 
want to go. He remembered what Doreen had told him about not trying to hold 
her back. He hadn't believed it at first, but Doreen was a woman, and maybe 
she knew better than he did about that. 

"What do you think?" he asked finally. 

"I feel rotten about the other night," she said, looking down. 

"I feel rotten, too." 

"Because I couldn't cum." 

Pete moved quickly forward, dropped down on the couch and put his arm around 
her, hugging her strongly to his chest. "That's not what I meant." 

"I guess I'm just a prude," she said, "And I don't want to be. And it's like 
Doreen was telling me. You know, she's really kind of nice. She admitted 
that it was pretty crude for Paul to just start like that, but after all, 
they are married. And it's not so much different from what we used to do, 
making out and doing everything but it, at parties with six or seven other 
couples." 

"I shouldn't have forced you." 

"You shouldn't have had to force me. It probably got you excited watching 
them. And anyway, I know men get restless. They need some variety. Sometimes 
they even need another woman." 

Pete caught his breath. "Honey, I don't need another woman." 

She looked him in the eye. "But if you did, I wouldn't hate you for it." 

They were silent for a long time. Then they kissed. After a moment, she 
gently disengaged herself and slid away from him. "So... what about the 
party?" 

Pete hesitated. "What do you want to do?" 

"I want to go, if you do." 

He nodded grimly. "All right. I guess we'll go." 

The teenage blonde-haired girl got up quickly and left the room. She hurried 
down the hall to the bathroom, went in and locked the door behind herself 
and cried. 

* * * 

Paul Jarvis had barbecued a lamb in their spacious backyard. The gathering 
of sixteen people, generally in their late twenties or early thirties, had 
eaten outside, and only gradually now was the party beginning to move into 
the house. There was plenty to drink and a continual buzz of laughter and 
conversation filled both the house and the yard. Pete had managed to stick 
close to Rosemary through the meal, and he'd been determined not to allow 
himself to be separated from her. Then Paul Jarvis had called him aside to 
tell him about a vintage Packard that had turned up at an antique automobile 
show in Seattle, and at almost the same time Rosemary had been approached by 
a sexy young redheaded friend of Doreen's who had been a majorette at one of 
the rival high schools she and Pete were familiar with. The girl not only 
remembered Rosemary, as head-cheerleader, but it seemed they had several 
friends in common. Paul had detained Pete for the time it took them to put 
away several double scotches, and now he'd lost his wife in the crowd. He 
was searching about for her in the house when Doreen caught him. 

"Rosemary's with my friend Jennifer and her husband in the living room," she 
whispered. "I've got the keys to the house across the street. We can go 
there." 

Pete hesitated. He'd vowed he was not going to involve himself with Doreen 
tonight. It was just too dangerous and it wasn't worth it, but damn, she had 
a sexy-looking body. She was wearing a cocktail dress with a neckline that 
plunged all the way to her navel, and her full voluptuous breasts looked 
like they might burst out of their flimsy confinement at any minute. And she 
was really ready to go, too. That was what made it even harder. It just 
didn't seem right to turn a woman down. 

"I don't think... I don't think I ought to with Rosemary here," Pete 
protested weakly, his eyes roving over the well-rounded curves of the 
brunette's inviting body. 

"Rosemary's all right, Pete," Doreen said with an amused smile. "Now I threw 
this party for one reason, and if I don't get what I want I'm going to start 
screaming, right now. All right?" 

She gave out with a soft little laugh, then took Pete's hand and led him 
down the hall toward the front door. 

* * * 

Rosemary sipped her whiskey and looked around the living room with 
alcohol-glazed eyes. The lights had been dimmed to a soft glow. Soft music 
played on the record player. Several couples, including Jennifer and Tom 
Blake, the friends Doreen had introduced her to, had gotten up and begun to 
dance. On the love-seats across the room a man and a woman had begun to make 
out. She distinctly remembered having been introduced to both of them 
earlier in the evening, and the odd thing was they had not been together 
then. The man had been with his wife and the woman with her husband. Or 
perhaps she was mistaken. Perhaps it was just the whiskey. She hadn't wanted 
anymore to drink after dinner and, in fact, she would have cut herself off 
completely if Jennifer hadn't insisted on filling her glass. But now she'd 
started to develop a taste for it, and it certainly did make her feel more 
at ease with the other guests. 

Rosemary finished her glass and idly shook it in her hand. A passing shadow 
whose face she hardly glimpsed poured it full almost to the brim and moved 
on. The bored blonde-haired teenage wife drank again, watching the dancing 
couples. She wondered vaguely where Pete had gone, thinking how much she 
would like to have him here with her now. She felt like dancing; she felt 
like being held in his strong arms, pressed against his muscular body; she 
felt like being loved. 

"Enjoying yourself, kid?" 

Rosemary looked up sharply at the sound of the man's voice. It was Paul 
Jarvis, standing behind the chair where she sat. 

"Oh yes," Rosemary said, the effects of the alcohol betrayed by the slur in 
her voice. 

The thirty-five year old man looked down at her with a leering smile. There 
was a confidence, an arrogance in his eyes, that she couldn't quite fathom, 
and for some reason it made her feel slightly uncomfortable. 

"Do you like to dance?" he asked, his eyes straying from her face down to 
the ripely inviting fullness of her proud upstanding young breasts. 

"I... I don't mind, if you want to," Rosemary said, not certain how she 
could refuse their host, though for some reason she actually didn't relish 
the idea of dancing a slow close number with Paul Jarvis. 

"I asked you if you liked to, not if you wanted to," Jarvis said, putting 
his hand on her shoulder and gently pushing her back down on her seat as she 
placed her drink on the table and started to rise. "I think dancing's a 
waste of time, myself. A waste of sexual energy." 

Relieved, but still not completely comfortable in Jarvis's presence, 
Rosemary retrieved her drink and took another long sip. She turned away, 
hoping he would leave. But he remained where he was, and not only did he 
remain, his hand remained where he had placed it on the sensitive bare flesh 
at the curve of her neck. Across the room the couple on the love-seat were 
really going at it. Rosemary stared, wide-eyed, as she saw the man's hand 
work its way up beneath the woman's skirt, and she heard the low moan that 
rose audibly to the woman's lips from the illicit contact. She shivered with 
the recollection of what had happened when she and Pete had come here last 
week. In her mind's eye, a disturbing vision flashed, a vision of Paul 
Jarvis lying on his back, his prodigious cock protruding nakedly from his 
fly, and his submissive wife kneeling in subjugation over his loins. And 
now, she thought with a sudden chill of increased apprehension, she was 
alone in the crowd with that same man. His hand lay, unwelcome, on her 
nakedly defenseless flesh. She was acutely conscious of its presence, and 
though she desperately wished he would take it away, in an odd way, it felt 
almost comforting. 

"H-have you seen Pete?" Rosemary asked, looking around again and shrugging 
her shoulder in an attempt to shy away from the man's persistent caress. 

"I was talking with him a little earlier," Paul said, dropping his hand to 
the back of the chair. 

"I wonder where he went?" 

Jarvis shrugged. "I was wondering the same thing about Doreen." 

He waited until the alarmed suspicion registered in the innocent blonde's 
face, then grinned and sauntered slowly away across the floor among the 
dancing couples. Pausing, he pinched the buttocks of a petite blonde crushed 
in the arms of a tall, drunkenly swaying man. Glancing back, he noted that 
Pete Flowers' perturbed young wife was watching him. But, as their eyes met, 
she looked quickly away. 

Rosemary sat where she was for a few moments longer. Troubled by a gnawing 
dread she still didn't want to name in her mind, she drank the full glass of 
whiskey rapidly, feeling the effects go immediately to her head. What had he 
meant when he said that he was wondering the same thing about Doreen? He 
wondered where she was, just as Rosemary was wondering where Pete was. The 
implication seemed too incredible, and she knew that if she trusted her 
husband the way a wife should trust the man she loved, she would have 
laughed it off without a second thought. But she couldn't laugh it off. It 
wedged itself in her mind like a painfully burrowing thorn. She remembered 
what she'd said to Pete the other evening about how she wouldn't hate him 
for it if he found he needed another woman. Perhaps he had taken her at her 
word. But even if he had, surely he wouldn't have the gall to do something 
right here in this house, with both her and the husband of the other woman 
present. Or would he? 

Rosemary realized suddenly that she couldn't go on thinking like this. She 
was poisoning her mind toward her husband, and she had no real evidence that 
what she feared was true. And she had to find him. She had to go find him 
now and put her mind at ease. Paul Jarvis casually sipped his own drink and 
watched the teenage blonde get up suddenly from her chair and go out of the 
room. He moved slowly to the door, watching her hurry down the hall to the 
kitchen, which led in turn to the backyard. He listened to the slamming of 
the back door, waited for a moment and heard it open and close again. Then 
he stepped back inside the living room, pressing himself against the wall, 
listening to her footsteps as she came back down the hall, past the door, 
and continued along toward the other end of the house, where the three 
bedrooms were located. 

Rosemary was almost breathless as she moved toward the darkened end of the 
long corridor. Unconsciously she was aware that the bedrooms must be located 
there, as she'd already been through most of the rest of the house. And she 
knew that it was a testimony to the extent of her suspicion that she should 
even bother to look there for her husband. She was beginning to believe he 
actually could cheat on her right here, virtually in her presence, and in 
spite of what she'd told him the other evening, she now found herself 
anything but forgiving. 

She reached the first open door and stopped, peering into the dark, empty 
room. Then she took a deep breath and continued on, slowly and, except for 
her own hastened breathing, in silence. Then, several paces from the door to 
the next room, she stopped, her heart almost leaping to her throat as she 
heard a low, distinctively sexual wail issue from within. 

Oh no, Rosemary thought, filled suddenly with despair. It couldn't be true. 
It just couldn't be. But she knew, almost without doubt, that it was. There 
were a man and a woman together in that room. Pete and Doreen were missing. 
Who else could it be? 

Almost, she brought herself to turn away. Then, seizing the desperate hope 
that she might in fact be mistaken, that it might be someone other than her 
husband and Paul Jarvis' wife she heard moaning and panting beyond the 
cracked door, she moved quickly on and stopped just outside the bedroom. She 
hesitated for a moment, then, determinedly pushed it slowly open and stared 
into the blackness. 

For a moment she could see nothing. She couldn't even locate the couple, and 
only the sounds of their heavy breathing and their moans evidenced they were 
even there. Then she heard the man say: "Jesus, baby. Who the hell taught 
you that?" And as she realized the voice did not belong to Pete, Rosemary 
almost sighed aloud with relief. She was about to turn away and flee back 
down the hall when something else dawned on her and she stopped in her 
tracks. The voice she'd heard was not Pete's, but it was a voice that she 
did recognize. Doreen had introduced her to the owner of that voice earlier 
tonight. It was the man whose wife was in the living room making out with 
the husband of another woman. And as the implication of that fact dawned on 
her, Rosemary's breath caught in her throat. 

This was no ordinary party. These people were "Swingers" - or at least that 
was what they were called in the media. This was a wife-swap party. It was 
all arranged. Everything was arranged. The man in this room and the man in 
the living room had made a deal. They had traded their mates for the 
evening. They had traded them as men in the old days traded their female 
slaves. And worse, she realized she must be part of the same kind of deal. 
She and Doreen must also have been traded. Doreen, tonight, must belong to 
her husband Pete. And she belonged to Paul! 

As the awful, but still unsubstantiated realization hit her, Rosemary stared 
back through the crack in the door, the couple on the bed gradually taking 
form as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light. She distinguished the 
nakedly writhing body of the woman, lying on her back with her legs raised 
high in the air. Kneeling over her, the man was sliding down toward the foot 
of the bed until his head was between her thighs, his face lowered right 
over her open loins. Then Rosemary gasped as she heard the woman's murmuring 
words: "Yes, lick it, darling. Lick it. Eat my cunt." 

Rosemary could hardly believe her senses. She was completely disoriented by 
the conclusion to which she'd jumped, and the shocking display taking place 
before her made her feel as if she'd been struck a hard blow on the head. 
She tried to clear her mind so she could think straight again, but all was a 
jumble. She had a sudden urge to run out of the house and leave all this 
behind her, but she was frozen to the spot, so obsessed by the scene taking 
place before her that she didn't hear the footsteps as Paul Jarvis came down 
the hall and whispered almost into her ear, and abruptly an electric-like 
jolt shot through Rosemary's confused young body as she felt the older man's 
hands slipping around her from behind to cup right over the firm fleshed 
mounds of her breasts. 

She turned her head, staring back at him in shock and dismay, trying to 
squirm free of his clutching fingers tweaking at her nipples as she felt him 
press his loins against her buttocks. The bulge of his half-hard cock 
swelling in his trousers insistently pressed her dress into the soft crevice 
of her buttocks as his hands continued to crudely massage her breasts. 

"You tricked us," she whined, locked helplessly in his grip. "Doreen said 
this was just a regular party, nothing like the other night." 

"It is a regular party," Paul laughed. "What the hell you think people do at 
parties these days? Play scrabble?" 

"They don't do that!" she said, looking back through the crack of the door 
into the dark room where the man's face and slavering tongue still worked in 
subjugation over the woman's nakedly squirming loins. "Her husband and his 
wife are together in the living room," she continued in a cracked voice. 
"And my husband is with your wife. Isn't he?" she hissed. "Isn't he?" 

"If he is it won't be the first time," Jarvis shot back, and as Rosemary 
winced and staggered slightly, she felt his hands slip from her breasts, 
moving lower down her body to her stomach, down... down... to gently apply 
pressure at the mound of her pelvis, causing a sudden unchecked sensation to 
surge out through her flesh against her will. She remembered again the cries 
of repeated climax that had issued from Doreen's lips the other night as he 
had done it to her dog fashion on the floor. She wondered vaguely if Pete 
was hearing those same cries of passion and ecstasy at this very moment, 
wherever it was they had gone. She clenched her eyes shut, fighting against 
awareness of the thought with all her strength. But the soft fingers nipping 
at the sensitive flesh of her belly and pubis from the outside of her dress, 
the increasing hardness of his stiffly throbbing cock pushing up against her 
buttocks from behind, were making it more and more difficult for her to 
control herself. Paid Jarvis, she realized, must be a very good lover. He 
was probably even a better lover than Pete, because Pete had never in all 
the time they'd been married made her cum the way Doreen had cum the other 
night. And if Pete had traded her behind her back, if Pete had made a 
transaction in flesh without asking her, then he deserved whatever he got. 
If Pete was doing it to Doreen, then it seemed only right that Paul do the 
same thing to her, repulsive as the idea seemed. 

"Goddamn, you're luscious," Jarvis hissed in her ear. 

"Noooo, don't say that," Rosemary whimpered as she felt further lewdly 
delicious feelings rippling over her skin. She moaned deeply, trying again 
to pull away, using all her willpower in her attempt to clear her head and 
free herself from the strange sensations building up against her will deep 
in the pit of her stomach. 

Then she gasped, holding her breath as she felt the hem of her dress reach 
the top of her thighs and the older man's probing hands came suddenly into 
searing contact with the softness of her naked flesh. A ravishing shock 
rippled over her skin, and before she knew it one of his fingers had slipped 
right up inside the tight elastic legband of her panties. She squirmed 
desperately back again, trying with one hand to push him away as the other 
clung to his hand reaching up beneath her dress. But he was not to be 
denied, and she whimpered helplessly as his worming fingertip found the 
sensitive slit of her narrow vagina and thrust gently up into it, parting 
the soft pubic hair and making sudden delicious contact with the throbbing 
little head of her clitoris. She found herself thinking again, deliriously, 
that if Pete was really being unfaithful to her it was only fair she do the 
same to him. And then the strength left her body. She collapsed weakly back 
in his arms, leaving it to him to hold her up. And her head swam as he 
guided her, unresisting back down the hall and into the empty bedroom. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

Paul Jarvis stared in triumphant anticipation at the voluptuously innocent 
teenage blonde reclining trance-like on the bed before him. She was almost 
in shock, and her state of mind had somehow made her even more susceptible 
physically. She was his now. He knew there wasn't any way in the world she 
could resist him, and he knew with equal certainty that before he was 
finished with her she would be begging for more and more of what he had to 
give. Nor could he wait to see the look on her punk husband's face when he 
found out that age-old truth that what is good for the goose is good for the 
gander. 

Rosemary lay limply on her back, crossways on the bed, her legs dangling off 
the edge and her dress still pulled far up off her thighs. Through bleary 
eyes she watched the older man standing before her. She was conscious that 
she still could refuse him. She still could stop what was about to happen to 
her and salvage at least her own self-respect if not her broken heart. But 
she couldn't bring herself to move. The alcohol had numbed her to the extent 
that she didn't have the strength or will, and she could only vaguely hope 
that this wasn't really happening, that it was just one of those dreams at 
the end of a long night's sleep, from which she would soon awake and find 
that she was not, after all, helpless and paralyzed. 

She shook her head weakly as Paul Jarvis moved closer, leaning over her. The 
dress she wore buttoned down the front, and she moaned feebly as he stepped 
closer and reached down to deftly undo the top button. Through narrowed eyes 
she watched the material part off the golden ripeness of her breasts as he 
flicked open one button after another, exposing her belly, her navel, the 
nearly transparent nylon of her panties through which she could just 
distinguish the golden triangle of the softly curling hair of her cunt. Then 
he reached behind her neck, lifting her up just enough to enable him to push 
the gown off her shoulders and down her arms. He slid his hand beneath her 
back to loosen the snap of her brassiere, peeling the straps from her 
shoulder and tossing the flimsy undergarment aside, and before she was fully 
aware of what was happening, she was naked to the waist. 

"No, please no," Rosemary protested in a whisper as the leering man seized 
the hem of her dress and pulled it over the flare of her buttocks and down 
the length of her long slender thighs. Her shoes had already dropped from 
her feet and now nothing remained but her thinly revealing little panties. 
She shook her head weakly, staring almost in disbelief at her own helpless 
vulnerability as he grasped the tight elastic waistband and began to draw 
them slowly down to teasingly expose the sparse hair of her cunt, her white 
naked buttocks, and the secret little slit of her cunt. 

Oh my God, thought Rosemary, still immobilized by her shock, by the 
inebriating alcohol she'd drunk, by a seemingly fatalistic compulsion to 
ruin her marriage and punish Pete for what he must be doing at this moment 
with Jarvis' wife. For a moment she closed her eyes. She listened vaguely to 
the rustle of clothing. Then she opened her eyes again, and she blinked with 
shock at the sight that greeted her. 

During the few moments when she'd not been watching, Paul Jarvis had 
stripped off his own clothes. Except for his socks, he was now as naked as 
she. His massive cock loomed up from his hairy loins in a pulsing erection 
that almost took her breath away, and as she lay helplessly paralyzed before 
him, he dropped quickly to his knees on the floor beside the bed, his hand 
reaching in between her knees to force her smooth thighs out wide apart, 
completely exposing the forbidden inner flesh of her little hair-lined cunt 
to his sadistically leering gaze. 

"Jesus, what a pussy!" he gasped as he stared at the glistening pink plane 
of her exposed loins. As she twisted vulnerably on the bed, he pushed her 
legs out forcibly, then suddenly doubled them back until her knees were 
virtually jackknifed to her shoulders, leaving the sensual mound of her 
pubis and her lewdly moistened cunt-slit completely helpless before his 
lust-glazed eyes. "I'm gonna eat your cunt like you've never been eaten 
before," he gloated. "I'm gonna eat you until you're begging to be fucked, 
and then I'm gonna fuck you until you're begging me to stop." 

Rosemary's eyes opened wider, and she stared in defenseless despair as she 
realized suddenly that Paul Jarvis was dead serious in his obscene threat. 
He didn't just want to have intercourse with her; he wasn't going to be 
satisfied with just sticking his penis in her vagina and shooting off. He 
wanted to possess her, to force her into complete submission to his 
heartless will, and she knew that in spite of her drunkenness and shock, she 
had to bring herself to resist. 

"You hear me, babe?" he spat. "You got any objections?" 

"Yesssss!" Rosemary cried, suddenly finding her voice, struggling 
desperately to clamp her thighs together as the man inched forward on his 
knees, pushing his head between them. "No! I don't want it! I don't want 
that!" 

"Good," Jarvis grunted. "For a minute I thought you were gonna give too 
easy." Then, before the fearfully cringing girl could wriggle away, he 
suddenly leaned his face closer down between her jackknifed thighs toward 
the upturned half-moons of her nakedly clenching buttocks. She felt his hot 
breath blowing along her sensitive inner thighs, then an unwelcome shudder 
racked her body as his tongue flicked suddenly out into lewd contact with 
her nakedly vulnerable flesh. The blonde-haired teenage girl grunted and 
squirmed, pinned helplessly on the bed in her jackknifed pose of submission 
as he dropped his head lower, his flicking tongue searching through the 
forbidden curls of her cunt-hair to make sudden shocking contact with the 
pulsing little bud of her clitoris. 

"Oh my God, please no!" Rosemary pleaded helplessly. "Don't do it to me! 
Don't do that!" 

But even as she cried out in protest, her hands reaching out to his head to 
push him away, the sudden surge of unwanted pleasure involuntarily drove her 
to pull his face more tightly up against her burning loins. 

Paul Jarvis sucked the miniature phallus-like bud hungrily into his mouth, 
his teeth nipping lightly at it as his lashing tongue worked feverishly over 
the sensitive little nerve-end. He opened his mouth wider, and moved the 
slavering limberness of his tongue downward along the smoothly heated 
crevice of her hair-fringed cunt, licking across the tight elastic mouth of 
her open cuntal orifice, teasing her until the distraught teenager found 
herself almost wanting to beg him to worm it up inside. He reached slowly 
down with his fingers to spread her pinkly glistening pussy-lips wider apart 
to his gaze, staring hungrily into the darkly straining depths of her 
palpitating cunt. He held back as long as he could, then took a deep breath 
and plunged. 

From there it was swift and vicious. Jarvis's tongue slavered straight up 
into the tightly clinging little opening, and he began to orally fuck 
Rosemary with a swift tonguing in and out of her dilated and pinkly clasping 
cunt-hole. And the exquisite pleasure he was inflicting on her was more than 
even she could resist. In spite of the depravity of the act, her traitorous 
body began to respond. She moaned and whimpered, twisting in lasciviously 
wanton abandon. The sensuous thrills racing through her nakedly exposed body 
were beginning to take control of her completely. Pete had never eaten her 
like this, and the sheer physical delight she experienced was sweeping all 
her inhibitions from her mind. 

"Ooooooohhhhh yesssssss!" Rosemary wailed in final verbal surrender. 
"Yesssssss! Do it to me like that! Do it to me with your tongue!" 

Paul Jarvis grinned in sadistic triumph down between the teenage girl's 
softly perspiring thighs. Then suddenly he pulled his slavering tongue out 
of her now-completely-moistened little cunt, flicking it teasingly over the 
thin membrane to lick down between the cheeks of Rosemary's buttocks and 
across the tiny puckered hole of her anus. 

The virginal-looking young blonde opened her eyes wide, staring in shock and 
dismay up at the ceiling. My God, what was he doing down there? He was 
licking her rear-end, worming his tongue right up into her... her... 
asshole, and it was like nothing she'd ever experienced in her life. 

"Ooohhhhhhh!" she wailed as the searing contact with her erotically 
stimulated anus sent further chills of shivering magnificence up the length 
of her spine. Lurid visions smashed into her brain with the intensity of an 
erupting volcano as the damply stabbing tongue worked deeper into the 
restricting passage of her weirdly excited rectum. Her voluptuously smooth 
young body shook uncontrollably beneath the overpowering assault as wildly 
uncontrollable spasms rippled furiously through her loins and belly with 
torrents of sensual pleasure that seized her completely and blotted all else 
from her mind. 

Driving his tongue harder and deeper up into Rosemary's lust-tortured anal 
passage, Paul Jarvis waited until her moans of submission reached a pitch of 
intense ecstasy. Abruptly, he pulled free, and as she whimpered in 
frustration and despair, he climbed up on the bed beside her and twisted 
around to face in the opposite direction, positioning his heavy 
passion-bloated penis right over the confusedly whimpering blonde-haired 
young housewife's half-open mouth. He lowered his face again between her 
thighs, holding his waiting tongue poised over the saliva-soaked lips of her 
quivering cunt. With a low sigh, he pushed his hot breath slowly out over 
the still rigidly twitching bud of her fully erected clitoris. 

"Oh please," she moaned, her eyes tightly closed to blot out the sight of 
his hairy loins almost smothering down over her face. "Give it to me again! 
Give it to me again!" 

"Then suck my cock," Paul grunted. "You're gonna suck it until I cum. And if 
you do a good job, you can have a little fucking after that," he continued, 
confident that she no longer possessed either the desire or the willpower to 
refuse his obscene command. Then, just for insurance, he plunged his searing 
tongue down into the depths of Rosemary's passionately flowering cunt. 

The young housewife's brain was a mass of lewdly inspired images. Even if 
Pete had been unfaithful to her, this seemed to be more than just evening 
the score. She didn't see how she could ever face her husband if she did 
what Paul Jarvis had asked, and she didn't think she'd ever conceived of 
anything so depraved and horrible in her life. But strangely now, in the 
masochistic confusion that gripped her, even that seemed like a means of 
attaining further pleasure. But she had no chance to sort out her confused 
feelings, for suddenly Paul bit down gently with his teeth on the sensitive 
bud of her clitoris, and as Rosemary opened her mouth to cry out in mixed 
delight and pain, the decision was made for her. With a sudden downward 
lunge, Paul drove his mushroom-shaped cock-head straight in between her 
lasciviously parted lips. 

Rosemary gasped, almost gagging from the obscene invasion. The older man's 
impaling penis rammed all the way down the length of her tongue, and she 
felt as if it might drive clear to her belly. But there was nothing she 
could do to resist. She had no choice but to clamp her lips and teeth down 
hard as the pressure continued, licking and rolling her tongue defensively 
around the palpitating hardness, jerking her head back down into the 
softness of the bed to leave long white marks on the surface of the huge 
penis-shaft from the force of her teeth pushing the blood away from the 
surface of his invading cock. 

For the first few minutes, this new stage of her ordeal was almost more than 
she could bear. But gradually Rosemary accustomed herself to the thick shaft 
of hardened cock-flesh ramming in and out between her ovaled lips. She knew 
there was no longer anything to be gained by holding back, and she devoted 
all her energy to the task she'd been forced to perform. Paul was still 
doing things to her cunt with his own lips and tongue and teeth, like 
nothing she'd ever dreamed of in her life, and she could no longer contain 
the building lust that surged through her nakedly squirming body. Reaching 
her hand up between the older man's hairy, muscular thighs, she cupped the 
rhythmically dancing sac that held his cum-Filled balls, at the same time, 
further increasing her wanton sucking of his penis as he rammed harder and 
more viciously into her mouth. 

Rosemary's lushly rounded lips were grotesquely distended by the huge organ 
that invaded them, folding inward from the surging pressure as it rammed 
again and again to her throat. Her tongue worked wildly around his bulbous 
cock-head, whipping it rapidly toward a final explosion as the whole 
gigantic shaft seemed to grow continuously larger and thicker, stretching 
and throbbing and virtually choking her with its sheer phallic massiveness. 

They were both going to cum, and as she sensed his approaching orgasm 
Rosemary found herself insanely longing for the invasion of the sticky cum 
in her already obscenely soiled mouth. Her face bobbed up and down between 
Jarvis's churning loins, and she wildly ground her own buttocks, sucking his 
searing tongue deep up into her cunt as the gathering billows of her orgasm 
swept relentlessly over her. She felt as if she were about to die, and her 
belly rolled in voluptuous spasms of delight as he continued his wanton 
tongue-fucking of her cunt. Then, with a muffled whining wail, she felt 
herself letting go. 

Every nerve and ragged fiber of her being became suddenly hypersensitive. 
She experienced a fantastic and overpowering surge of passionate sensation 
ripping through her with shattering eroticism as her release flooded her 
pulsating pussy-passage with hotly gushing feminine liquid. Her thighs 
tightened about Paul's neck, and her buttocks quivered and trembled with the 
release of tension surging through her naked breast and loins. She sucked 
the older man's pistoning cock as if she wanted to devour it, and it swelled 
to an even more incredible thickness as he pushed it even deeper into her 
voraciously sucking mouth. His balls seemed to explode, and his white-hot 
cum surged up the full length of his convulsing cock to blast out from the 
hugely swollen tip like bullets racing from a machine-gun. 

The sudden splashing blasts deep in her throat were even more powerful than 
the defenseless teenage girl had expected, and for a moment she almost 
gagged. She gulped frantically to keep from choking as the relentless 
outpouring of his viscous cum continued. The very degradation of her 
position seemed to spark a chain reaction that began deep in her own loins 
and belly, and as Paul continued to thrust his spasming cock violently into 
her mouth, the overwhelming shuddering of her own loins increased. She was 
flooded and inundated with his cum and her own rampaging release, and she 
lapped servilely at his spewing and jerking cock-head, licking up and 
swallowing every drop of the deliciously shooting sperm. The fury of their 
perfectly timed orgasms seemed to go on forever in a frenzy of 
uncontrollable bliss. 

Then at last it was over. Paul felt Rosemary's pussy contract one last time 
around his tongue, and at the same time she dropped her head back from the 
still rock-hard shaft of his cock. As she gasped to catch her breath, he 
lifted himself off her trembling body, turning around to stare triumphantly 
down at her as the little tremors of post-orgasmic delight continued to 
course over her naked flesh. He gazed greedily down at the two lust-swollen 
mounds of her breasts, then lowered his face suddenly toward them, licking 
one of her already rigidly swollen little nipples, kissing down toward the 
sensitively rounded underside of the tingling breast. 

Then he paused, taking a deep breath, and bit down gently. 

"Oooooooh," Rosemary cried out in surprise and stinging pain. She twisted on 
the bed, staring down in shock as Paul relaxed his grip and raised up to 
stare at her with a lewd grin. 

"Now we fuck," he said, sliding further up to push the still half-rigid 
shaft of his cock straight up to the entrance of her succulently moistened 
cunt. 

The blonde-haired teenager shook her head weakly from side to side as she 
felt the first searing pressure. She closed her eyes, then opened again, 
suddenly hit by the realization of what had happened. 

Raising up from the bed, she peered down in shock and horror at the bright 
red "monkey bite" Paul Jarvis had intentionally placed on her breasts. 

She was branded, like a slave... or like a whore. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Pete Flowers tiptoed silently into the bedroom and peeled off his uniform 
shirt, listening to the water running into the shower. He pitched the shirt 
over the back of the chair, lit a cigarette and lay down, in his shoes, 
trousers and undershirt. Through the fogged glass door of the bath he could 
vaguely distinguish the naked outline of his wife's body as she bathed, 
though he doubted if she could see him. 

Pete took a deep drag of his cigarette and dumped the ashes on the floor. He 
wasn't usually as inconsiderate toward his wife as to make her house 
cleaning more difficult, but tonight that hardly seemed to matter. Two days 
had passed since the Jarvis' last party, and they had hardly spoken to each 
other since. Pete knew from the way his wife looked at him that somehow 
she'd at least come to suspect that something had happened between him and 
Doreen. He knew it and it gnawed at him like a cancer deep in his gut. He 
was ashamed of himself for what he'd done. He'd felt so guilty during these 
last two days that he'd hardly been able to face her. But tonight he was 
determined to clear the air. If he had to he would come clean about the 
whole thing. But one way or another he was going to get back on speaking 
terms with Rosemary before either of them went to sleep. And he was going to 
fuck her. He was going to fuck her and make her cum until she couldn't stand 
it, and then maybe she'd quit turning her cold shoulder to him. 

Pete finished his cigarette, mashed it out on his work shoe and pitched it 
beneath the bed just as the shower water stopped. A moment later Rosemary, 
wearing only a thin robe tied loosely with a sash in front, emerged. Seeing 
Pete, she stopped abruptly. She glared at him resentfully for a moment, then 
turned away and walked over to sit before the dresser and start to brush out 
her damp blonde hair. 

"Rosemary," Pete said after a moment. 

Her eyes met his in the mirror, but she said nothing. Then she looked back 
at her own reflection, and pulled the brush through her hair with long, 
angry strokes. 

"Rosemary, I want to talk to you." 

"There's nothing to say." 

"You know why," she said, glancing briefly back at him. 

"The night of the party." 

"Yes. The night of that goddamned party!" 

Pete sighed. "All right. I guess you know don't you. You know where I went 
when I disappeared." 

"Yes. I know where you went." 

"It won't happen again." 

"Ha!" his angry blonde wife laughed without mirth. 

"Rosemary. I wanna straighten everything out with you." 

"And how do you expect to do that?" 

Pete bit his lip. "Come to bed. Come to bed with me. You're the only one I 
love. Let me show you that." 

"Why? You think your penis is a magic wand? You think you can wave it in my 
face and everything will be all right?" 

Pete winced. "I don't like to hear you talk like that. Rosemary. Come on." 

She sat still, slowly dragging the brush through her hair. He rose and 
walked over to stand behind her. She stiffened as he dropped his hands down 
to her shoulders, then moved them lower to start to pull the robe apart. 

"No, Pete! I don't want to!" 

Glaring at her, he persisted. She seized the robe, trying to hold it 
together, gritting her teeth and glaring angrily back at him. Pete caught 
his breath. In a sudden motion he yanked the robe apart, completely exposing 
her lusciously formed breasts. He took in their reflection hungrily, 
dropping his hands down toward the already slightly erected nipples, bending 
and starting to form on his lips the kiss he intended to plant on the back 
of her neck. 

Then he stopped, staring open mouthed at the red, kidney-shaped mark, placed 
revealingly on the under side of her left breast. As Pete drew his hands 
away from her and straightened up, she pulled the robe tightly back together 
over her breasts, her face blanching. 

"Well you fucking cunt," he hissed under his breath. "You fucking, 
two-timing cunt. Who did it? Who did you fuck at the party?" 

"Who do you think?" she said quietly. "Paul Jarvis." 

"Paul Jarvis?" Pete blinked, starting to comprehend. 

"He raped me." 

"He raped you?" 

She lowered her head. "No. He didn't rape me. He just did it to me and I 
didn't stop him. I knew you were with Doreen then. It didn't seem to 
matter." 

"Didn't seem to matter? What the hell do you mean, it didn't seem to 
matter?" 

She stood and turned. "What did it matter? You were with her." 

"That's different." 

"What's so different about it, Pete?" 

"I'm a man and you're a woman. There's just a difference. It's not the same 
between a man fucking around and his wife fucking around on him. You know 
that. It's just not the goddamned same." 

"It is the same!" 

"It's not the same, you goddamned whore. That's what you are. You know it. A 
goddamned whore." 

"And you're a male chauvinist pig," Rosemary blurted tearfully, then brushed 
past him and despairingly threw herself face down on the bed. 

Pete turned slowly, glaring at her. Her body was naked beneath the loosely 
clinging robe, shaking with sobs. He was stunned. It was as if his whole 
life had collapsed. It seemed completely incomprehensible that Rosemary, his 
Rosemary, could ever let another man touch her. And yet that was exactly 
what she was admitting. And as the truth sank slowly in, Pete found himself 
possessed of a rage that was like nothing he'd ever known in his life. And a 
strange aspect of that rage was a burning in his own loins, a sudden violent 
twitching and distending of his cock, swelling to angry erection in the 
constricting confines of his work pants. 

His eyes fastened on the curvaceous half-moons of his adulterous wife's 
barely protected buttocks. Pete walked slowly toward her in a trance of 
anger and desire, and he dropped down onto the bed beside her. She moaned as 
his hands reached out to seize her, roving brutally over her flesh through 
the thin material of the sheer bathrobe. 

"No, please," she whimpered softly as he again pulled it from her shoulders. 

"Shut up," Pete growled, forcibly pulling the gown off her arms, jerking it 
completely free of her body to leave her lying in a naked heap on the bed 
before him. 

The jealous husband stared bitterly down at her soft curves of flesh, 
imagining Paul Jarvis' dirty hands roving over them. He unbuckled his belt, 
undid the button and pulled down the zipper of his trousers, trembling as he 
climbed up onto the bed. His breath came in hoarsely strained gasps, and 
another whimper of protest issued from Rosemary's lips as he grasped her 
hips, forcing her to kneel up on her knees, pressing her head down into the 
pillow, smothering her nose and mouth into the pillow. 

His unhappy young wife regretted having told Pete about Paul Jarvis. She 
should never have admitted it. Now she knew he would never forgive her. In 
that sense, there was a difference between men and woman, a double standard. 
Because though she'd been hurt and angered by the fact that Pete could want 
a woman other than her, she could have survived that hurt and forgiven him. 
What she really still blamed him for was what his action had led her to do. 
She hated him because, in a way, he was responsible for the circumstances 
that had made her unfaithful. 

And now Rosemary had no idea what unearthly punishment he had in store for 
her. But she could feel the anger displayed in the trembling of his hands as 
he moved her into position. Her face still buried, helplessly in the pillow, 
she could offer no vocal protest. She could do nothing but shiver and moan 
as she felt his hands working at her defenselessly proffered ass-checks, his 
fingers digging like claws into the tender skin between them. 

"Oh!" Rosemary gasped, managing to turn her face to the side with a mighty 
effort. "Oh! Be careful. You're hurting me!" 

The strain on her body was almost unbearable as Pete used his thumbs to 
separate the satin-skinned mounds of her buttocks, and she heard the quick 
intake of his breath as the secret crevice between them was exposed suddenly 
to his view. This was something she really hadn't been prepared for. She 
felt like an animal kneeling this way before him. But then she received an 
even greater shock as Pete leaned suddenly forward and she felt the hotly 
flicking tip of his tongue licking wetly up between the widespread, 
helplessly exposed mounds of her buttocks. 

Pete was completely crazed by his wrath. He wanted to subjugate and punish 
Rosemary in a way she would have never dreamed of. To lick her ass-hole with 
his tongue seemed the most perverse thing in the world, and he relished the 
low gasp shock that welled in her throat as she wiggled forward in a frantic 
attempt to elude the humiliating sensation. 

"Hold still!" he growled, digging his teeth animal-like into the yielding 
flesh of her buttocks. "Hold still or I'll bite your whole goddamn ass off." 

Oh my God, Rosemary thought. He's really out of his mind. 

Pete held on for a moment longer, clinging tightly to her soft skin with his 
teeth. When she at last became still he let her go, and for a moment 
Rosemary dared dream she was spared. But seconds later she realized that was 
not at all the case. Again she felt her painfully quivering buttocks being 
forced apart from the cruel outward pressure of his thumbs. Then her eyes 
bulged in disbelief as she became aware of the distinct prodding of his 
extended middle finger straight up against her cringing little anus. She 
couldn't imagine what he was going to do, but she tried to edge away from 
the intolerable pressure against the tiny rubber-like opening, a strange 
terror creeping like cold fingers up her spine as the pressure only 
increased. Fear numbed her brain and paralyzed her limbs and her mouth felt 
suddenly chalky dry. 

"No, Pete. Please, nooooo!" Rosemary wailed as she felt his finger shove 
harder and suddenly slip right up into the warm little hole. Actually, she 
remembered, he'd done the same thing to her a week or so ago when they were 
making it together. But that had been different, somehow. With the 
contrasting sensation of his penis in her vagina, she'd been able to bear 
the penetration of her anus. And besides, that day he'd been doing it out of 
excitement and lust, not because he wanted to punish her. 

Pete stared down hungrily at the smooth swells of his wife's subserviently 
spread ass-cheeks and the incredible sight of his own middle finger wedged 
all the way to the knuckle up into her tight back passage. He grinned 
savagely to himself as he relished the act to which he was now determined to 
subject her. He'd teach her to screw around on him! He wasn't a carbon, as 
they said south of the border about men who couldn't satisfy their women, 
and he grunted with his own building anticipation as he thrust his merciless 
finger forward again, sinking it slowly deeper, burrowing it up into the 
most sensitive depths of her obscenely skewered rectum. 

Ignoring the helpless girl's cries of fear and pain, Pete dug brutally up 
into her cringing anus, intent on shaming and humiliating her to the full 
extent of his ability. Her tiny puckered ass-hole was warm and throbbing 
around his finger, but it was only as he felt its thrilling caress that he 
became fully determined to carry out the obscene scheme upon which he'd 
seized. He was going to fuck her from the rear, not dog fashion the way 
they'd done several time before. But right up the ass! That would teach the 
whoring bitch to fuck around on Pete Rowers! 

Rosemary was in an agony of mortification and pain. It was too much. What he 
was doing to her was inhuman and sick, and desperately she tried to crawl 
free and dislodge his painfully skewering finger from her rectum. Her 
kneeling body felt cramped and her tiny anal opening was throbbing almost 
unbearably, but there was nothing she could do. Pete was determined to have 
her the way he'd never had her before, and he gazed leeringly down at his 
hugely throbbing penis, thrust up and poised at her tightly clenched anal 
ring. He withdrew his gouging finger with a sudden sucking popping noise, 
and for a moment she sighed with relief. Then once again the helpless blonde 
stiffened as the finger was replaced by an even blunter and more threatening 
cudgel of flesh. 

Pete had thrust the naked head of his lust-swollen cock straight up between 
Rosemary's buttocks, and almost before she realized what was happening, he 
lunged forward up against her defenseless little opening, trying with all 
his might to insert its menacing thickness into the tiny aperture. At first 
it seemed impossible. In spite of all his raging force, his bulbous 
cock-head bumped futilely against the tight opening. Beneath him Rosemary 
shuddered, wailing in pain and alarm as he rammed forward a second time, 
still without success. He cursed and grunted under his breath, holding her 
still helplessly in position. Then, blinded by his lust and fury, he rammed 
his hips forward with all his strength, shoving them straight up against her 
waggling ass-cheeks, ramming with animal ruthlessness until he felt her 
resistance give. 

"Aaaaaaaaaagggggghhhhh! My God, Pete! Stop! Please stop!" 

Rosemary's shrill cries reverberated through the room as Pete thrust the 
head of his massively palpitating cock right up into the tight little hole. 
He grunted, holding his blood-swollen maleness in position, and he flexed 
his hips forward to ram his penis gradually deeper and deeper up into her 
fearfully cringing anus Pain jolted through Rosemary's body like an electric 
shock, and for the moment nothing seemed to matter but that she rid herself 
of this cruelly thrusting pole of flesh stabbing in between her naked hips. 
But her desperate struggles were in vain as Pete continued to push deeper 
and deeper, fucking his penis inch by agonizing inch up to the very hilt 
into her agonized little rectum. 

"Ooooooh God!" Rosemary screamed, her beautiful face contorted with her 
torment as she felt the coarse pubic hair of Pete's loins smack heavily 
against the quaking softness of her ass-cheeks. Behind her, Pete snickered 
insanely, flexing deep up inside her to cause another shiver to rack her 
helplessly pinioned naked body. Rosemary's eyes filled anew with tears as 
she heard his cruel laughter, and sobs of pain and misery poured from her 
lips as he began to lunge back and forth, withdrawing almost the whole 
length of his massive cock, and then ramming it relentlessly back up into 
her shuddering anal depths. He gloated over the sight of her pinkly clasping 
flesh pulling out on the back-stroke, then turning violently inward as he 
thrust back up inside. She was feeling it, all right, he thought with 
sadistic triumph. He was really getting his message across to her now. 

Rosemary had never felt so humiliated in her life. This cruel punishment was 
only adding injury to insult after what she'd undergone at the hands of Paul 
Jarvis. That was Pete's fault as much as hers, and she seethed with 
resentment at the fact that he was forcing her to pay for his mistake. But 
to her amazement, she became gradually aware that the agony she'd initially 
experienced was beginning to diminish. In spite of all her anger at being so 
ill-used, the actual physical sensation was becoming almost pleasant. It 
still hurt, but she derived a strange masochistic enjoyment from his 
hard-skewering thrusts. The feminine juices of her cunt had begun to freely 
flow, and even her rectum seemed to have lubricated slightly. His punishing 
penis was moving in and out of her without nearly as much friction now. Her 
rubbery flesh seemed to have adjusted to the cruel size of it, and as she 
tentatively rocked her buttocks backward, she felt the first stirrings of a 
new and crazy passion that was like nothing she'd ever experienced in her 
life. Pete thought he was going to break her, but she had taken everything 
he had to offer. She was taking it and she was enduring it, if she could 
learn to enjoy it, that would be all the better. And no matter how it turned 
out, he would pay in the end for what he'd done to her. He would pay, as he 
liked to say, out the ear. Rosemary made that vow to herself as she began to 
rotate her ass-cheeks in tiny circles, twisting back and clenching tightly 
around the hotly invading cock with Pete's every forward thrust. 

Sweat poured from Pete's face and he stared down in astonishment as his wife 
wiggled her buttocks back, shaking her head from side to side to whip the 
long blonde locks of her hair back and forth over the softly naked skin of 
her shoulders. She was liking it! By God, the whore was liking it! She was 
liking it as much as he did. 

"Oh fuck me," she moaned distantly. "Come on, bastard. Fuck me like that if 
you think it'll make you feel better!" 

"Goddamn!" Pete grunted, hardly able to comprehend what had come over her. 
But now he was caught up in the frenzy of his own lust. He was too excited 
to try to think about what was happening, and he rammed his turgidly 
throbbing cock up Rosemary's yielding ass-hole with deep and powerful lunges 
that racked her body down against the bed. The sweat from his forehead 
spilled onto her soft golden skin. His breath came in sharply strained 
gasps, and he gripped the tops of her thighs cruelly with his fingers, 
squeezing with all his might to pull her back over his hotly expanding cock 
as though he were fitting on a boot, relishing the imminent orgasm building 
up relentlessly in his loins. 

In her determination not to be defeated, Rosemary had by now almost 
completely forgotten her pain. She waved her cruelly impaled buttocks back 
with a vengeance, grunting and groaning from the exquisitely warm wetness of 
the giant presence between her ass-cheeks. Then suddenly she looked back in 
alarm as she heard a canine growl rise from deep in his throat, and he began 
to suddenly thrash wildly on the bed behind her, his loins striking her 
buttocks in a frenzied staccato of jack hammering strokes. Her body tensed 
and shuddered before the shattering assault, and a low wail burst to her 
lips as she felt the first hotly shooting droplets of white-hot cum begin to 
spurt in a stream up into the farthermost depths of her ravished rectum. His 
viscous cum poured forth as though from a human pump, surging through her 
body like a volcanic eruption, heating her belly like a hotly tingling 
whirlpool bath as he shoved forward with a mighty lunge that made his 
bloated balls dance over her stiffly erected clitoris. 

Then it was over, and he grunted, sagging down heavily on top of her, his 
hands now lying limply on her shoulders as she continued to tremble and 
shudder beneath him. 

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered in her ear. "I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't 
want to hurt you." 

Bullshit, Rosemary thought, relishing her bitterness and the kind of inner 
triumph a close-lipped prisoner can feel when he endures everything his 
interrogator has to offer and still refuse to talk. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

The call from the Jarvis' had come on Thursday night. It was Paul on the 
line and Rosemary had answered the phone. Pete watched her face blanch as 
she listened, saying nothing that revealed the identity of the caller. Then 
she hung up. "That was Paul," she said. "There's a party at Jennifer and 
Tom's on Sunday evening. I know the address. I told him we would probably 
come." 

Pete had glared at her silently for almost a full minute before he 
responded. "You said we would probably come?" 

She nodded. "Yes." 

"Why? Didn't you get enough of that bastard last week?" 

"Yes, Pete. I got enough of him." 

"Then why do you want to go to another one of those parties." 

Her face was expressionless as she spoke: "Because we have nowhere else to 
go. We can't go back. Nothing's the same anymore. We have to go forward, and 
see where we get." 

"See where we get?" Pete growled. "I don't know where we're gonna get, but I 
know what that son of a bitch is gonna get the next time I see him. A good 
punch in the face." 

"No, Pete." 

"Why the hell not?" 

"Because I won't let you. And don't worry, I'll have nothing more to do with 
Paul Jarvis. That won't happen again with him." 

With him had been the two key words in the sentence, Pete realized now as he 
watched his wife dancing snugly against their host, Tom Blake, her face 
snuggled on his shoulders, her breasts pushed warmly to his chest. It was 
eleven o'clock or so, and the party was really getting into full swing. A 
number of couples had already disappeared to the bedrooms, and even here one 
man and woman looked like they were almost ready to start fucking on the 
couch in front of everybody. Only Pete was alone, only Pete, that was, and 
Doreen Jarvis, who sat in an easy chair across the room, watching him 
steadily, never taking her eyes from his face. 

Pete gulped his whiskey rapidly, feeling almost no effect from the booze. He 
looked up dully at his wife, watching her fingers play lightly, teasingly, 
over the back of Tom Blake's neck. Tom's wife, Jennifer, was making out with 
Paul Jarvis on the couch, and neither seemed concerned about what the other 
was doing. They were both doing their own thing and that was all that seemed 
to matter. 

"I ought to get up and pop that bastard in the nose," Pete whispered to 
himself, watching Blake's hand creep down to the inviting mounds of his 
wife's buttocks, pulling her loins even more tightly to his own. But even 
Pete knew that would do no good. These people wouldn't even understand 
something like that. They'd just think he was a fool. They weren't like him, 
these people. They were a different breed. He knew that now. He'd faced the 
realization and it couldn't be denied. Maybe Rosemary was capable of moving 
into their world, but not him. 

Pete sighed as the record ended. He watched his wife slip out of Tom arms. 
She took a step back, weaving drunkenly on her feet, looking around with a 
silly grin. "What's the matter?" she exclaimed finally, her voice slurred as 
a result of the alcohol she'd drunk. "Is this a party or a death-watch. Hey 
Pete!" She came a few steps toward him, then stopped, planting her feet wide 
apart. "Hey Pete! Don't you know this is supposed to be an orgy? Don't you 
know we came here tonight to have fun? And now everybody is holding back 
just because you're sitting there like a dead fish?" 

As Pete glared at her she laughed raucously, her half-exposed breasts, 
unencumbered by a brassiere beneath her partly unbuttoned blouse, shaking 
with vulgar abandon. Then she turned abruptly away and walked to the bar and 
around behind it. Pete took another sip of his drink as a fast rock-and-roll 
song began on the stereo. He looked again at Doreen Jarvis, and when he 
turned his gaze to the bar he could not longer see his wife. Then his face 
went gray as he heard a loud "whoopee" and she raised suddenly up from 
behind the counter, where she'd apparently knelt. His eyes almost bugged out 
of their sockets as he saw that she'd removed her blouse. She was stripped 
completely naked to the waist, her breasts standing up full and proud in 
obscene display. And worse, she'd retrieved a can of whipped cream from 
behind the bar and now she was spraying the white foamy substance in thick 
globs over her naked upper torso and the rigidly swollen points of her 
nipples. 

Pete let his glass slip from his hand and shatter on the floor. He rose, 
glaring at his wife, who now did not so much as look at him. Everyone else 
was laughing. Even the couple on the couch had stopped their exploration of 
one another's half-exposed bodies and raised up to watch. The only person 
who wasn't looking at Rosemary was Paul Jarvis. He wore a big smile on his 
face and he was staring straight at Pete. 

"Fuck it," the young man said, his shoulders sagging as he heaved out a 
sigh. He looked back at Rosemary, now dancing out to the clearing in the 
middle of the room, where she was met by Tom Blake. And as the almost 
equally drunken man began to lick the whipped cream from her 
succulent-looking breasts, Pete turned suddenly and strode to the door. 

He emerged, almost shattered, onto the porch. He breathed in the cool night 
air, then sank down on the steps. In a moment the door opened behind him and 
Doreen Jarvis emerged. She came over and lay her hand sympathetically on his 
shoulder, then descended two steps and took a seat beside him. 

"You're just not up to that, are you Pete?" 

He didn't answer for a moment. "Goddamn it," he said finally, his voice 
mournful. "Goddamn it! The worst of all is that I still love her. Damn it! 
She's a worthless whore and I still love her. I love her as much as ever." 

"She's not a whore. She's just having fun, Pete." 

"Having fun? You call that fun? She's trying to get herself fucked is what 
she's doing. She's begging for it." 

"But you fucked me, Pete. And you can fuck any woman here tonight if you 
want to." 

"It's not the same thing," Pete said. "It's not the same." 

"Why isn't it the same?" Doreen put her arm gently around his shoulder, 
pressing her breasts against his arm. 

"You think I want my wife fucking around with all those creeps? You think 
I'm some kind of pervert or something? The hell with that. My wife isn't a 
piece of public property." 

"Aren't you ever going to adjust? Rosemary has." 

"Adjust, my ass! I'm getting out "Then take me with you. We can go to our 
place. Paul will be here all night." Pete said nothing, and gently she 
stroked his neck. "Don't you want to? Hunh?" 

He looked at her sadly. "I don't know if I feel like doing anything." 

"Then if you don't feel like it we'll just go to sleep. Together." 

Pete nodded sadly. Together they rose and walked arm in arm down the drive 
to his station wagon. 

* * * 

Her half-naked body still streaked with gobs of whipped cream, Rosemary 
pressed her face against the window and peered out beside the curtain, never 
ceasing the undulation of her buttocks in time with the music as she did so. 
She watched Pete open the car door for Doreen Jarvis. She watched him close 
it and get in on the driver's side. A lump swelled in her throat and a 
single tear spilled from each eye as the lights came on, the station wagon 
turned around and disappeared onto the road. She reached up and wiped her 
eyes. When she turned away, her sorrow was hidden by a smile. Tom Blake and 
another of the guests, a Ted somebody, were standing before her, looking 
lecherously at her unprotected breasts. She giggled, spraying them both in 
the face from the can whipped cream. 

They wiped the white foam from their eyes, laughing also. "Let's get her," 
Tom said, and a moment later the two of them were upon her. 

We played with fire and we got burned, Rosemary thought dizzily to herself 
as she felt the two sets of male hands stripping the skirt from her waist 
and letting it fall to the floor at her feet. She stepped out of it, her now 
almost totally naked body going limp as the two men pushed her down to the 
floor. She moaned in surrender as Ted gobbled the rest of the whipped cream 
from her breasts, and she offered no resistance as Tom ripped her panties 
away to expose her naked ass-cheeks and loins. She was giving herself up to 
them completely. She still didn't know what they were going to do, but she 
no longer even cared. They could do as they pleased, and she was sure that 
whatever it was it would be exactly what she - and Pete - deserved. 

Tom Blake pushed the voluptuously naked blonde to a kneeling position on the 
carpet, shoving her legs wide apart, offering the obscenely exposed plane of 
her pussy helplessly up to his gaze. He'd already removed his shirt, and as 
he guided her into position, he was urgently tearing at his belt and the 
buckle of his trousers with his other hand. And before her, Ted was also 
stripping unashamedly in front of the onlookers gathered about the room. 
They were going to take her simultaneously, Rosemary realized vaguely, her 
mind slightly recoiling at the lewdly vivid, never-before-imagined vision 
that flashed suddenly before her eyes. 

They were both going to do it to her at once, and she knew that now there 
wouldn't have been a way in the world to stop them even if she wanted to. 
She'd already gone too far. Tonight all limits were cast aside. 

The nakedly kneeling blonde shuddered as Tom levered up against her from 
behind, guiding the already rigidly dilated tip of his rock-hard cock 
straight up between her firm thighs, his groping fingers parting the lewdly 
moistened lips of her young cunt as he rammed his hips forward, and with one 
sudden, shattering lunge, he drove almost half the length of his huge 
blood-filled cock up into the fleshy folds of her surrendering cunt. 

She moaned half-deliriously as she felt the raw sensation intensify 
rapturously. At the same time Ted dropped to his knees in front of her face, 
his own lust-stiffened shaft of cock-flesh looming up obscenely right before 
her eyes. She shuddered with mixed pain and delight as Tom continued his 
relentless penetration, at last embedding his lust-flamed hardness in her to 
the hilt, and as she leaned forward in an automatic attempt to escape the 
searing penetration, she ran face-one into- the thickly surging penis of the 
other man. It shoved almost without warning up into the warm saliva-soaked 
cavity of her mouth, almost gagging her as the spongy cock-head plunged down 
her tongue toward her throat. 

Then, to the cries of encouragement from the onlookers, the two men began to 
fuck her back and forth from both ends, buffeting her as their straining 
cocks plunged simultaneously in and out of her helplessly violated orifices. 
Her pussy muscles were stretched almost beyond recognition, and the 
unspeakable subjugation to which she willingly yielded began immediately to 
create a stirring of masochistic excitement like nothing she'd ever known. 
Deep in the back of her mind she was still conscious of the fact that 
tonight she and Pete had really gone beyond the point of no return. They 
were openly being unfaithful to one another. She realized that after this 
their chances of salvaging their marriage were almost nil, and in any event, 
their relationship could never again be what it had been before. So now, in 
her wild lust and alcohol-inspired delirium, it seemed that the only thing 
to do was go ahead and live out the destructive activity of her own downfall 
to the fullest. 

Abandoning herself to perdition, Rosemary began to rotate and grind her 
well-rounded buttocks backward to meet Tom's racking lunges, and at the same 
time, she started to suck in servile dog-like subservience on the throbbing 
penis that plunged again and again in and out between her sensuously ovaled 
lips. 

"Oh God," she groaned inaudibly as the two men pummeled her lust-driven body 
back and forth between them, using her captive flesh as a shameless 
receptacle into which they would both pump every last drop of their lewdly 
building orgasms. The very debasement of her situation, the obscene 
humiliation of being used at once by both the eagerly grunting men and 
before a whole room full of spectators, caused the secret desire welling 
through her body to burst into full bloom, and she churned and gyrated her 
upthrust buttocks in luxuriating circles, tightening her cruelly ravished 
cuntal muscles warmly around the spearing cock rampaging in and out between 
her naked ass-cheeks. At the same time she increased her submissive sucking 
on the pumping rod of flesh that filled her ill-used mouth. She was giving 
in completely now and she wanted to milk both men dry until she was filled 
from one end to the other with their lewdly flowing cum. 

Behind her, Tom Blake was building swiftly toward the end, thrusting harder 
and faster, battering her mercilessly with each impassioned stroke as his 
sperm-bloated balls slapped against tender thighs and his pelvis slammed 
against the upturned crevice of her ass. The saliva in her contorted mouth 
was becoming thick and sticky from the emissions of lubricating fluid that 
seeped from the end of Ted's mouth-fucking cock, and she sensed that his 
orgasm wouldn't be far behind Tom's. But her own depraved excitement had 
mounted almost completely out of control. She had never felt so utterly used 
and debauched in her life, and she sucked with all her heart, waggling her 
proffered buttocks in total abandon as she felt herself building 
relentlessly toward a crescendo of lust. 

Then suddenly Rosemary felt the pile-driving cock fucking into her from 
behind begin to tense and inflate even more. She was aware of her thighs 
being pushed forcibly out wider apart as the frenziedly fucking man drove 
his iron-hard cock powerfully up into her steaming cunt, shoving his 
hard-surging penis as far as it would go up into her belly as he abruptly 
began to spew his hotly jetting cum in a searing torrent deep up into her 
wildly contracting cunt. 

Rosemary ground her gyrating buttocks back frenziedly as she felt Tom's 
seething cum flooding up into her dilated womb, filling her until she 
thought she would burst. The hotly viscous fluid dribbled back out of the 
hair-covered lips of her steaming pussy, and the lust-driven man's spasmodic 
lunges drove her to bury her face even more warmly up against Ted's groin as 
his overheated cock also burst forth in a savage climax, filling her cheeks 
with the pungently boiling liquid until she was forced to swallow to keep 
from choking on the fiery gushes of sperm. Her sucking lips clasped tightly 
around the lurching cock-shaft, and she was fearful of losing even a drop of 
the precious life-giving semen. But there was too much of it and as she felt 
the spasms of exquisite relief flooding with equal fury through her own 
ravished body, little droplets of the sticky white fluid spilled out from 
the corners of her mouth and thin glistening strands connected her lips to 
the now deflating penis as it was withdrawn. 

The impassioned young blonde continued to drive her hips back onto Tom's 
monstrously skewering penis as it pumped the last drops of searing cum up 
into her spasming cunt, as, with a wail of orgasmic delight, she felt her 
own body soar and explode into what seemed like a shower of tiny blazing 
stars coursing through her being with a wantonly raw ecstasy of relief. 

Then at last her strength left her and she collapsed, exhausted, on the 
floor. She thought she was finished, but she should have suspected that this 
was only the beginning. Around her, a genuine orgy was already beginning to 
erupt. It was she who had broken the party open, and now the men were lining 
up to take her. It was for them, her initiation, and none of the lust-crazed 
men wanted to be left out. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

As the big bus sped down the highway, Rosemary Flowers stared vacantly out 
of the window. She paid no attention to the passing scenery as she mused 
darkly within the depths of her mind. How had it all happened? And it seemed 
to have happened so quickly - barely four or five weeks ago, she and Pete 
were blissfully happy, satisfied with each other and the dull, uneventful 
life they were leading. And then he met Doreen. 

Well, she supposed, if it hadn't been Doreen, it would have been someone 
else; if it hadn't happened now, it would have happened later. The wistfully 
musing blonde-haired teenager wanted to blame Doreen, she wanted to blame 
Paul, and she wanted to blame Pete for setting up the series of events that 
had led to their break-up - to her downfall. It was a downfall, wasn't it? 
She wasn't sure; she would have to sort out her thoughts, her feelings her 
prejudices. Later. It would take time, and right now she just felt lost and 
helpless. But one thing she knew: No one man could satisfy her now - maybe 
never again. One rock-hard cock pumping up inside her just wasn't enough, 
not when she could have two - or three. 

Pete thought she was going back to live with her mother, but, no, you can't 
go back, she had decided. You have to keep going forward... you have to keep 
going to see where it leads. Vaguely, the confused young girl wondered where 
she could find a man... any man... and maybe he would have a buddy... 

* * * 

Pete Flowers leaned against the glass window at the front of the station and 
watched the big Continental creep slowly up the drive. Paul Jarvis was 
behind the wheel. Beside him, looking out the window at the somber faced 
young man, was Doreen. 

Pete had seen her a couple of times since the last party he and Rosemary had 
attended, but this was the first appearance Paul had put in since then, and 
the sight of the man he held responsible for his break-up with his wife 
caused a sudden tightening in his stomach. He seethed inwardly as he 
recalled the sight of her, dancing naked, her breasts streaked with foamy 
whipped cream. That had been the end. Or perhaps the end had come even 
before that. The week they'd spent together after the party had been 
hopeless and bleak. It was over between them. There was no way to recapture 
what they had lost. And, it was strange in the end, when Rosemary had packed 
and gone back to her mother's, Pete had felt almost nothing. He'd been 
numbed, as if he'd grown a protective shell. 

The muscular youth spat on the drive and walked slowly across to the car. 
Doreen rolled down the window and he moved up to the door on her side. 

"Hello, Pete," she said, watching him with concern. "Are you all right." 

"Sure." 

"Rosemary?" 

"She's gone." Through the windshield Pete saw Paul Jarvis grin. 

"Gone?" Doreen asked. "She'll be back. I'm sure she'll be back." 

Pete shook his head. "No. I don't want her back." 

"Pete!" 

"I'm not like you," Pete said. It was not an easy thing to say. For him it 
was a realization, the formation of a concept. "I'm not like you," he 
repeated. Then he leaned down and peered through the window at Paul. "You 
want gas?" 

"Yeah, Pete. Fill it up." 

Pete nodded. He turned slowly and walked to the back of the car. He stopped, 
turned around and peered through the rear window. Out of the corner of his 
eye he saw Gus watching him from the station doorway. He shifted his weight 
on his feet, knitting his brow with thought. Then, decided, he tapped on the 
window. Paul and Doreen both looked back at once. He pointed down at the 
back of the car, then motioned for the man. 

"What's the matter?" Paul called, sticking his head out the window. 

"Come look," Pete said. 

Jarvis opened the door and stepped down from the vehicle. Pete hit him full 
in the face as his feet touched the ground. The younger man had turned and 
started away before Jarvis landed on his back, blood pouring from his 
bursted lip. By the time the thirty-five year old man was up, Pete was in 
his station wagon, pulling out of the drive. He stared straight ahead, not 
bothering to look as Jarvis called: "You goddamn punk! Come back here, 
goddamn it!" 

Pete pulled onto the freeway and leaned heavily onto the accelerator. He 
didn't really know where he was going. But he had to take the rest of the 
day off. 

Back at the station, Jarvis dabbed his lip with a handkerchief as Gus Craig 
looked on curiously. Doreen, sitting stiffly in the front seat, ignored him. 

"Goddamn punk," Paul muttered painfully. "Goddamn stupid punk kid." 

"Oh shut up, Paul," she said as he started the Continental and pulled away. 
"You had it coming." 

And he should have hit me, too, she thought as they pulled away. 


THE END
