The Reluctant Swinger
by Carl Van Marcus 


FOREWORD 

In still another analysis of modern American life, author Van Marcus depicts 
in a graphic and telling manner the pitfalls and pleasures to be had in an 
affluent and technological society such as we are faced with today. 

In this searing novel of a young married couple's adjustment from what many 
a social critic calls "outmoded marital ways" to that of the modern 
"swinger," we see the agony and the bliss of wife swapping. 

To the publishers, the author seems to be trying to alert the public to a 
trend. People seem to be redefining what they really are and what they 
really want. The trauma of adjusting to a new and hedonistic way of life is 
clearly and graphically depicted with nothing, no vice or shame or desire 
withheld. 

The author has deliberately left the name and location of the city vague, 
for many of the facts and the people depicted in this novel are drawn from 
life, taken from case histories. The character of Carol Murcer, in 
particular, is a young, attractive, swinging wife, living under seemingly 
"normal" circumstances. Author Van Marcus was able to gain her confidence 
and garnered much of the material for this novel from her confessions. 

Although it not need be said, we the publishers feel it our duty to protect 
Carol Murcer and state that this is not her real name. Nor does her husband 
work as a draftsman. He works in a similar but unallied profession. 

In telling her story, Carol had to be granted the protection of a nom de 
plume and the author's promise that certain facts of her life would be 
fictionalized. 

"I want my story known because of the way my life is now," Carol stated to 
the novelist. "I don't think I could ever again be satisfied with one man," 
she went on, "or my husband ever be satisfied with one woman. That old, 
normal, married way of life is behind us. We can't go back. It's too late. 
People should know this, people should know what they are getting into; all 
the kicks and all the traps." 

With that in mind, the publishers are proud to present this story; the story 
of Carol and Bill and the desires they gave in to. 

-THE PUBLISHERS 

 CHAPTER 1 

"Okay, I think we're about ready," Chuck Spanner said as he checked the 
projector once more, tracing the looping coils of film with his finger 
before snapping out the work light and plunging his basement into total 
darkness save for the glow that came from the projector itself and the 
firefly light of several cigarettes scattered around the room as men sat 
with their drinks, all of them facing one wall where they knew a screen was 
erected. 

Bill Murcer tried to act nonchalant even though no one could see him in the 
dark. He was the youngest of all the men present and was, as far as he could 
tell, the only one who had never seen a stag film. So much was new to him. 
He had just turned twenty-one, had just been married two months ago, had 
just gotten a job drafting blueprints, had just met Chuck and Anne Spanner, 
his boss and the bosses wife. Now, he was at their house, at a party, 
sitting in a darkened basement "romper room," about to see a stag movie 
while the women stayed upstairs and did God knows what. 

Bill was glad for the darkness and the anonymity it gave him. It gave him a 
chance to calm down and think. He had walked around the house talking, 
making jokes and small talk, putting his arm around his wife's waist and 
nuzzling her and trying to act like he was at ease when all the time his 
heart was pounding like a sledgehammer and his mind was dizzy with the 
thought of the voluptuous Anne Spanner. Chuck Spanner, his boss, a great 
guy, a successful, handsome, charming guy, had a wife who had just made an 
overt and unmistakable pass at Bill. 

Bill gulped at his drink and hoped for a little drunkenness, a little 
numbness, so that he could calm down and think. Anne Spanner was one woman 
no man could take lightly. She possessed those clear blue eyes that are 
seldom seen with natural red hair and the combination was enough to make 
even old men turn their heads in a double take. If that odd and appealing 
color combination were all that Anne had, it would be enough, However, Anne, 
two years over thirty, had a figure of a twenty-year-old. Tall, willowy, 
graceful, she was a menace to traffic whenever she walked down the street 
with her buttocks swaying from side to side in a way that was somehow 
seductive and suggestive of smut and sex. Women generally didn't like her, 
feeling insecure when she was around. They invariably turned catty and 
speculated that her hair was dyed. It wasn't. And it was only too apparent 
that her figure was totally hers. She tended to wear low-cut dresses which 
revealed the deep cleavage of her breasts and the way her hips moved told 
every woman and man that she did not wear a girdle. 

If women had any weapon at all with which they could combat their jealousy, 
it was the matter of age. Anne was over thirty and showed it. There was a 
puffiness under the eyes and her cool good looks turned toward a hardness. 
She wore an orange-tinted lipstick that accentuated her hair and blue eyes 
and, occasionally, her mouth would widen in a cynical grin that could, and 
did, become a wanton smile, an invitation to lewdness. 

Few women realized or guessed at her weak spot and those that knew 
understood and didn't talk about it. Anne was completely dominated by her 
husband, Chuck, who had spent years teaching her the delights of humiliation 
and debasement. It was on his specific orders that she had made a pass at 
Bill Murcer. Following her husband's instructions, she had removed her 
panties and had felt excited and aroused when she first saw the younger man. 
Chuck had introduced them and she had taken his hand and given it a little 
squeeze, her hips thrust ever so slightly forward as she said, "It is a 
pleasure to meet you. Chuck has told me so much about you." 

It had all been ridiculously easy to do. Taking Bill by the arm and winking 
at his pretty wife, she had said, "Chuck says that Bill is too shy and lacks 
that aggressive quality so I'm to take him away from you and show him around 
the house. Pardon me, what was your name again?" 

"Carol," ' Carol Murcer said. Carol looked up at her husband. Already she 
didn't like Anne and Chuck Spanner. She thought Bill was fine, just as he 
was, and she felt he was aggressive enough and resented anyone talking about 
Bill in such a derogatory way in public. Chuck Spanner was the kind of 
person she instinctively disliked. A big man, he was too rough, too pushy, 
and much too suggestive. Carol felt like he was undressing her with his 
eyes. 

While "showing" Bill around the house, while in their master bedroom, 
standing close next to him, her soft hip rubbing provocatively against 
Bill's muscular thigh, Anne simply swung around in front of him, stood 
close, her eyes half closed and reached for his hands and cupped them on her 
breasts and put her arms around his neck and kissed him, her tongue fighting 
to wedge its way into his mouth while she thrust her hips against his groin 
and ground as hard as she could. Bill fought to push her away, pulling his 
hands away from the soft warmth of her breasts under her dress as if he had 
received an electric shock. Anne held on, grinding her hips harder and his 
hands slipped down to her hips and he gradually, because of his superior 
strength, forced her away. 

Then it happened. 

Now, later, sitting in the dark of Chuck's basement romper room, Bill 
thought back about it and it all seemed like it happened in slow motion, 
like in a dream. He had forced her away from him so that a foot of space 
separated them and Anne, Mrs. Spanner, the wife of his boss, was smiling at 
him in the most inviting and suggestive way and her hands came down to his 
and she put them very gently over his and they stood like that for what 
seemed an eternity before she slowly began to gyrate her hips. Bill couldn't 
take his eyes from her hips as he watched her hands leave his and slowly, 
tantalizingly, enticingly, with a lewdness and wantonness that made his 
groin swell, Anne Spanner, a woman he had just met, was slowly raising her 
dress, pulling it up higher and higher until he was sure he would see her 
underwear. She slowly, her hips undulating all the time, raised the dress as 
far as his restraining hands would allow. 

With a gasp, Bill looked and realized that Mrs. Chuck Spanner wasn't wearing 
any underwear! The two of them moved as if they were immersed in some warm 
thick oil. His eyes turned down and he saw her long lovely legs covered with 
sheer stockings and her full swooping thighs and, as he watched, his lips 
parted, those thighs swung apart and she was standing in high heels with her 
feet far apart and still her hips were moving and rotating. 

Although everything seemed to be happening so slowly and he felt his whole 
body atingle, his mind was racing with the speed of light: What kind of 
woman is this and this is wrong and this is dangerous. Suppose his wife were 
to walk in? 

Yet, he couldn't move or speak as he watched the dress, now pulled tight by 
her straddling stance, slowly inch up her thighs until he could see the 
beginning clasps of her black garter belt biting into the tops of the 
stockings and then, with a gasp, then he knew for sure Anne Spanner wasn't 
wearing any panties and his greedy eye took in her prominent mound of Venus 
covered with soft red pubic hair and the nice way it nestled between her 
flamboyant thighs. 

Only a quick glance at her face so near and her eyes were half shut and she 
was slowly licking her lips with the tip of her tongue. Glancing behind her, 
involuntarily checking the door, he almost jumped. There, mirror-reversed, 
stood Anne Spanner, and beyond, he could see the reflection of his own 
startled, sweating face. And her lovely, full rounded buttocks, twin cheeks, 
were there in the mirror, her legs wide apart, her dress now up around her 
waist and those lovely full bare buttocks were slowly pumping and swinging 
in a lazy tantalizing way. 

Bill closed his eyes and shook his head. This couldn't be happening to him 
and if it was, he knew, dimly, that he had better get the hell out of there. 
But he stood, frozen, his body electric and his groin pounding and felt Anne 
Spanner take his hand in hers and move it slowly, trailing across her silky 
stomach and down, down, curving in until the tips of his fingers brushed 
into her soft downy pubic hair and, with his hand beginning to tremble, he 
felt his fingers guided to the soft fleshy lips of her vagina and felt them 
swell and part. 

With a low moan that was near a growl and a sound he couldn't hold back, he 
felt one finger slip into the smooth wet mouth of her cunt and slide back 
and forth. A shudder went through her body and she whispered, hoarsely, "Oh, 
baby...." and leaned toward him, one hand fumbling for the zipper on his 
pants. 

"Anybody here?" a female voice asked, rapping on the door at the same time. 

It was as if a mirror shattered in the room and they both seemed to be going 
in a thousand different directions at once. They jumped apart and then 
collided as they both ran for the bathroom then jumped apart again, Anne 
standing in the middle of the room and pulling her dress down and, brazenly, 
incongruously, sticking her tongue out at Bill and laughing. 

Bill had such an erection bulging uncomfortably in his pants, he could think 
of nothing to do but sit down in a convenient chair and cross his legs and 
fumble and tear at a pack of cigarettes and brush his hair back at the same 
time as the door was swinging open and a woman, hard, still attractive, 
sauntered into the room with a smirk. She smiled first at Anne then at Bill. 
"Hell, thought I'd see something. You seen Harvey?" she asked Anne. 

"No," Anne said, astounding Bill with her coolness and composure. "Harvey 
must be hard to keep track of." 

The woman nodded. "Better believe it." She stood with one hand on her hip 
and nodded at Bill. "Who's this?" 

"Bill Murcer, meet Muriel Abrams. You will anyway. Muriel, Bill." 

Bill couldn't say anything as he tried to light a cigarette with a trembling 
hand. 

Muriel walked to him. "My pleasure, Bill. How old are you?" she asked with a 
smile. 

"Twenty-one," Bill said, astounded by the high hoarse pitch of his own 
voice. 

Both the women laughed and Muriel said, "Well, I hope we'll be seeing a lot 
of each other." She smiled back at Anne and said, "Well, I've got to be 
going. Nice party, Anne, with some new faces for a change." Again she turned 
to Bill. "Don't bother getting up," she said and both women laughed. 

Muriel left the room, smiling back at Bill once more and Anne straightened 
her hair and then stood looking at Bill with a sidelong smile. "I'd like to 
get together with you." 

"Oh." It was all he could say. 

Anne came and stood in front of the chair and put her hands on her hips. For 
an instant, Bill thought she was going to start again. "Give me a call." 

"When?" The question shot out before he could think and he hated himself for 
it. 

"Tomorrow. During the day. Here." She bent over him. "Promise?" 

He nodded and they both smiled at one another. 

Anne clapped her hands and said, "Come on, we'll be missed." 

Bill found his erection had gone down enough for him to be able to stand and 
walk. At the door, Anne Spanner gave him a wicked smile and said, "Call, and 
we'll take up that tour where we left off and I'll take you on a real trip." 

Before he could answer, they were out in the hall and heading for the 
growing chatter of the party. Bill found Carol seated demurely on a couch, 
talking to another couple and Chuck Spanner. 

Anne went off to greet some late-comers and Bill walked toward the couch, 
his mind aflame, sure that everyone would know what he had been up to by the 
expression on his face. Chuck Spanner looked up and smiled. "Hi. We were 
just talking about you. Here he is, the new man in our little circle." 

Carol smiled up at him, her face full of pride. 

"Mr. Spanner was just saying ... " 

"Chuck, call me Chuck. Everybody does, Baby!" Chuck called out in his loud 
impulsive style. "Name is Chuck. None of that Spanner and Mister crap!" 
Everyone laughed. Chuck was an extrovert and a loud one. Despite his 
sometimes coarse and direct ways, he was immensely likeable. 

Carol smiled politely and said, "Chuck. Chuck was saying how he thought you 
could work into a management position in no time at all." Carol beamed up at 
her husband again and Bill basked in a guilty warmth. 

"Well, I sure like working for you," he said. 

Chuck was up on his feet and slapping Bill on the back, whip-lashing his 
head. "You don't work for me, we all work together!" he roared. Then, "Hey, 
there's Ed Hindman. Ed, Baby!" and he was off across the room. 

Bill sat down next to his wife and gave her a weak smile. "How's it been 
going?" 

"Fine. He's funny, Mr. Spanner." Carol made a cute face and said, "Chuck. 
And he thinks highly of you. Isn't this some house?" she asked, looking 
around. 

"Yeah." It was a fine rambling house, tastefully if somewhat modernly 
decorated. It was too far out for Carol's taste, yet she recognized the 
expense of the furnishings. In Bill's present state, he couldn't really take 
it in, just the red-haired figure of Anne Spanner across the room. 

"How was the rest of the house?" Carol asked. She was always interested in 
clothes and interior decorating. 

"Oh," he waved a hand, "You know me. It's nice. Real nice, I'll tell you 
that." 

"What are you going to do?" 

Bill leaned back and tried not to show his apprehension. What did she mean? 
"What do you mean?" he asked stupidly. 

"What are you and the rest of the men going to do?" 

Bill looked at her face carefully, seeing nothing but curiosity there. "What 
are you talking about? Me and the rest of the men?" 

Carol took a breath and said, "Chuck was saying that Anne, his wife, was 
going to take all the women on a tour of the house in a group while you men 
did something else and I wondered what it was." 

Bill shrugged. "News to me." 

"What's she like?" 

"Who?" 

"Mrs. Spanner. What's she like?" 

"Her? Oh, she's all right." 

"Is something wrong?" Carol leaned toward him. 

"Wrong? No, why should something be wrong? It's just that ... I want a 
drink. Can I get you one?" 

"No, thank you, I've still got one," Carol said, swivelling around to locate 
her drink. 

"Well, I'm going to get one," he said as he got up. 

"Okay. I wish I knew what it was you men were going to do together." Carol 
gave him a coquettish smile. "Something naughty?" 

"Dunno. I'll find out." 

At the small bar, Bill got another drink and had Chuck come up and drape his 
arm around his shoulder. "Way to go." Chuck was always saying that and most 
of the time, it sounded like one word: "Waytogo." 

"Just fine," Bill said with a smile. "Some place you got here." 

"It'll do. You gotta see our place up in the mountains. Real hideaway place 
where a screaming rape would go unnoticed. We'll have you up there soon." 

Bill laughed. Chuck was a colorful and salty talker, a thing about, him you 
grew used to. Besides, there wasn't much sense in opposing him. At 
thirty-five, he was a large man with an immense physical presence. At 
six-feet-three, he was a trim and muscular two hundred pounds. It was 
evident, from his stance and movement, that he was in good shape and 
regularly worked out. More, it was his rugged good looks and the thrust of 
his jaw that told you that he was amiable, but not a man to cross. 

"Say, what's this I hear that the men are going to do something while the 
girls go off with Mrs. Spanner?" 

"Anne!" Chuck roared. "They're going to do female things while we retire to 
the romper room and," with a nudge and wink, "do man things." 

"Oh." Bill nodded but didn't understand and was too self-conscious to ask 
just what "Man things," meant and he walked back to Carol and gave a shrug 
when she asked him and took a long drink from his glass and tried to steer 
the conversation toward small talk. 

Two drinks and several people later, Bill noticed that men were filing from 
the room and heading toward what must be the romper room, smiling and 
laughing while Anne Spanner was gathering the women together. 

"Come on, you two love birds, break it up. 

Bill, come on with me!" Chuck called. 

Bill looked around and saw that they were the only couple still seated and 
that they were alone on the couch. He got up, his head full of smoky 
thoughts as the alcohol weaved in his brain and he smiled across the room at 
Anne Spanner who smiled back and then down at his wife. "I guess we'd better 
go along." 

"Yes, I guess so." Carol got up, smoothing out her skirt. She looked into 
her husband's eyes and he could tell she wasn't too happy and wondering why 
they were being separated. So was he. 

He squeezed her hand. "I'll see you later." She tried to smile. "Have a good 
time." 

 CHAPTER 2 

And he was safely in the dark of Chuck Spanner's romper room, fortified with 
another drink and trying to figure things out and what he should do if he 
should do anything at all. Mrs. Spanner, Anne, must be a nymphomaniac and 
Chuck had to live with it. It didn't seem right, fooling around with the 
boss's wife, especially when she was the wife of a guy like Chuck Spanner. 

"Here we go!" Chuck said and flipped a switch and a cone of light stabbed 
through the smoky dark and illuminated a screen at the far end of the romper 
room and the words: NITTY GRITTY LOLLIPOP came on the screen as the men 
clapped and hooted and Chuck called out, "Waytogo!" 

Any thoughts Bill might have had of sitting in the dark and collecting his 
thoughts vanished as a figure came on the screen. A young girl, in her 
teens, blonde and voluptuous, walked into camera view and stood next to a 
bed. The film was being shot in an apartment somewhere. The lighting was bad 
and the camera was hand-held and jiggled as it moved closer. The bed was 
rumpled and unmade and the girl appeared self-conscious and squinting 
against the harsh camera light. 

And she was also stark naked! Worse than naked, she wore black silk 
stockings held in place by a black garter belt and above, some flimsy, 
Arabian-looking vest that only brazenly called attention to her breasts and 
nipples rather than concealing them. 

An appreciative murmur ran through the room as the men commented on the 
girl's figure. And it was something to see; thick, large, full-blown breasts 
and body. She couldn't have been any more than eighteen and she had the kind 
of figure that would, in a few years, droop and thicken. But now, right now, 
she was full of firm baby fat and at the physical peak of her being. She was 
syrupy and voluptuous and men could look at her with only one thought in 
mind: hot, liquid sex. 

At a signal from the cameraman or someone out of camera range, the girl 
crawled on the bed and lay down on her back, her head on a pillow, her knees 
lifting further apart and her nipples tensing and standing out. A sly lewd 
smile played on her lips as she stared at the camera that came close and 
bent over the bed, taking in her face in a close-up, then her neck, then her 
snowy mounds, her breasts. Slowly, it inched over them, watching her fingers 
tweak and pinch and fondle her nipples and nurse them even more erect. 

The only sound in the room was the film clicking through the sprockets as 
each man leaned forward, licking their lips, taking hasty drinks, and 
watching. 

The camera swooped up for one more teasing look at her smirking face and she 
slowly, lasciviously, stuck her tongue out and the camera started down, down 
again over her firm young breasts that the girl was now massaging and 
bunching in her hands, down over her snowy and contoured stomach, on down 
past her belly button and the men watched as it heaved and tossed around on 
the screen as the camera continued on down to her crotch, her softly curled 
pubic triangle and saw her mound of Venus heave and thrust in the air as her 
long, well-tapered thighs came into view and, as the camera pulled back, 
they could see that her knees were slightly bent. 

Bill felt his breath coming faster and he thought, Jesus, I can't stand much 
more of this! Yet, he gaped, watching as the camera was down low, almost 
level with the bed now and pulling back so that the girl could bend her leg 
and, giggling, her hands still on her breasts, swing the leg to one side of 
the camera. 

The cameraman swung unerringly into position, right up between her open legs 
and Bill and all the other viewers were down with their heads between the 
girl's legs, looking up, gazing at the tiny hidden clit of her young pussy. 

First, all they could look at was her cunt. It dominated the screen. There 
it was with its swollen lips -lined teasingly by pubic hair. And parting the 
pubic hair, the glistening slit of her cunt with all its sweet hot exciting 
mysteries. On up was her heaving, rounded little belly with her stockinged 
thighs acting as pillars on either side of the screen. Far back on the bed, 
like foothills, were her soft, snowy breasts billowing and bunching in her 
hands as she mas saged them and smiled down at the camera through the 
cleavage of her breasts. 

They were large, heavy and ponderous breasts and, as the men watched, she 
took one in both her hands and pulled it toward her mouth, her head bending 
forward and her mouth opening as she did so. A groan came out in the room as 
they watched her tongue lick the nipples of her breasts and then her mouth 
close over one nipple and her lips grow small and tight as she sucked on the 
nipple. Bill felt himself sweating and his cock growing iron-hard in his 
pants and he shifted position in order to be more comfortable and forced his 
cock up flat against his stomach where it grew as he watched the girl 
sucking fervently, her head bobbing until she fell back in a restless 
exhaustion and her breasts jellied out and she began moving her bare 
buttocks and he could see the deep inviting crevice where they joined and 
rubbed against each other. The girl heaved wildly, and her head rolled about 
and Bill could just catch a glimpse of her hazily glazed eyes and knew she 
was hot, passionate. 

A voice cut the silence. "Hey, Chuck, wouldn't you like to do her?" 

"Hell," Chuck said, "You ain't seen nothing yet. Why, she's just getting 
warmed up. Waytogo!" 

Everyone laughed and then they all fell silent again as the girl, her legs 
bent still more and separated, raised her buttocks clear of the bed and 
gyrated them around with a kind of twisting abandon. "Look!" someone said 
and Bill looked to see her hands trailing down over her stomach, and her 
fingertips dancing in her pubic hair. Then, as a collective groan came from 
the men, they watched as one finger probed lower and began sliding up and 
down the tight, pink slit very slowly and tantalizingly. 

Her tempo slowed down appreciably and her buttocks gave out a slow lewd 
grind as the one finger slowly slid up and down the length of her cunt. Her 
breasts were bunched and jutting up between her arms as her fingers slipped 
lower, her head was thrown back and only her throat and jaw were visible as 
her fingers delicately and slowly spread the swollen lips of her cunt and 
the men gaped as an index finger slowly probed into the wet walls of her 
cunt. 

Slowly, with an aching lewdness, the finger slid in. Then out. Then in 
again. Then out, then in and out, going deeper each time. 

The girl's actions became more frenzied and her legs were split as wide as 
they would go as her teasing finger, in as deep as it could go, twisted and 
probed around as her buttocks heaved on up off the bed and gyrated, 
thrusting up, eager to take more of the finger and, as Bill gasped, he 
caught glimpses of her tight puckered little anus as her buttocks widened 
then contracted with a well-oiled movement as her fingers spread the lips of 
her cunt wider now and another finger slipped into the inflamed and wet cunt 
and her actions became faster, quicker, more desperate and Bill could hear 
the sounds of men breathing harder as he was. 

He was sitting forward in his chair now, his drink forgotten as he watched 
the girl with two fingers sawing in and out of her cunt now with her head 
thrashing about and her body heaving and writhing like a liquid balloon. The 
girl was desperate now and trying to jam still another finger in her cunt as 
she thrashed and fell around the bed, her eyes closed and her mouth open. 
Her passion and frustration was mounting with every stroke of her hand and, 
maddened, she rolled over on her stomach and lay with her legs spread wide 
apart, the camera right on her lovely wide buttocks and her cunt. Bill could 
clearly see her hand sawing in and out as her buttocks rose and fell and her 
anus was naked and exposed to his sight. 

"I'd love to fuck that little pussy!" someone called out and all the men 
laughed and excitedly agreed and Bill licked his lips as the girl was 
tearing, clawing at her cunt now and writhing and pounding as fast as she 
could until she collapsed and clutched the sheets in her hands and ground 
her teeth together while she ground her buttocks down into the covers as 
hard as she could. 

She rolled over and sat up, her face twisted with passion, her eyes glazed 
and unfocussing. She was hot and frustrated and wanted something else. Bill 
could see her lips moving as she said something to the cameraman and Chuck, 
his voice low, excited, said, "Now watch this!" 

They all strained forward in their seats and the room was hot and smoky and 
sticky with sweat and sexual excitement as they all watched. 

The camera was swinging around, toward the head of the bed while the girl 
was on her knees and crawling down to the foot of the bed, her breasts 
pendulous, a hungry little half-smile playing on her lips. The camera tilted 
and almost lost her in the picture and all the men save Chuck were confused 
for a minute until they saw that the cameraman was lying down on the bed and 
his trousered legs were coming into view with his shoes on either side of 
the girl. Bill suddenly realized that the cameraman was lying on the bed 
with the camera on his chest, shooting down at the girl who crawled up 
between his thighs and unzipped his fly and her hand disappeared as she 
groped for, seized, and pulled out his erect cock. It was a big cock, at 
least eight inches long and a good inch-and-a-half thick. The girl bent over 
it, her face ecstatic as she held it lovingly in her hands and slowly pulled 
the foreskin back so that the head mushroomed out and she shifted, holding 
it with one hand and moving sinuously, she stroked it with her breasts, her 
hard erect nipples sliding over the cock. 

Then, stooping, holding it in both hands, her buttocks fanning out, she 
rubbed the cock all over her face and stopped with her lips touching the 
very end of it. She didn't move for a split second then her lips just 
sucked, gently, on the very tip of his cock and then pulled away and all the 
men could see the glint of cum forming on the head of the cock. The girl 
smiled down and slowly, her thick wet tongue came down to lick the cum off 
and the girl looked up at the camera and grinned, then lewdly smacked her 
lips to show that it tasted good. 

Shifting her voluptuous body, she leaned her weight on her elbows and 
flicked the tip of her tongue over the head of the cock that seemed to swell 
larger, threatening to fill up the screen. Then, with a lewd deliberateness, 
the girl began licking all around the head of the cock with the flat of her 
tongue, wetting it while her hand slowly stroked the thick shaft. 

Then, opening her mouth, her lips poised, she put the head of the cock in 
her mouth and her head slowly sunk down on the shaft. So slowly, her lips 
tight, her mouth sucking, she drove each and every man present mad as she 
sucked slowly, achingly, down over the shaft until her mouth was full of 
cock and there she stayed with her lips wiggling and her cheeks bulging as 
her tongue rolled around the cock in her mouth and her hand played with the 
rest of the shaft. She stayed there a long time and the cock seemed to grow 
to the point where it would explode and still the film ground on. 

"Some cameraman!" someone called and the men hooted. 

"Hey, Chuck, boy, that you?" a raucous voice asked and all the men laughed. 

"Waytogo!" Chuck called. 

Bill said nothing, only sat watching the screen, breathing hard, his own 
cock rigid and feeling wet on the end as the girl's lips slowly wiggled back 
on up the long cock, revealing it thick and wet, a little at a time. 
Finally, her lips were just touching the thick head and her tongue was 
wiggling furiously and then she suddenly swooped, taking the cock in her 
mouth and the men in the romper room let out a groan and moan and she was 
sucking madly, her head bobbing up and down furiously to suddenly stop 
again, her lips just touching the head. "You fucking bitch!" somebody called 
out and the men laughed. 

"A real cock-teaser!" someone else said and there was general agreement as 
the girl started slowly wiggling her lips down over the shaft again and the 
men groaned, "Come on, you bitch!" 

"Fuck him!" 

"Suck him!" 

"Yeah, suck him off!" 

"Yeah," Bill heard himself say in a low voice, "Suck it!" 

His lust seemed unendurable and he wanted to see the girl suck the 
cameraman's prick. The way it was being filmed, it was almost as if it was 
his prick up on the screen. It was almost as if it was the prick of every 
guy there that was being sucked and teased. 

The girl continued her slow and maddening action, almost as if she were 
paying the cameraman back for her own lustful frustration. Now, as they 
watched, they could see her hand slipping down between her thighs again, 
massaging her cunt as she sucked so slowly, so lewdly, so insinuatingly on 
the rampant cock in her hand. Then, with a greedy devouring motion, she was 
swooping again, taking all the thick prick in her mouth that she could and 
her head was bobbing up and down furiously while her body writhed in a 
frenzy as she ground her own hand voraciously in and out of her cunt. 

"Here we go!" Chuck called out. "Waytogo!" 

And they all watched, they saw her mounting in intensity and tempo, sucking 
hard and furiously, taking all of the big prick in her mouth until she 
seemed to gag. And then going all out, demonic now, her face twisted by 
passion as she sucked and the cameraman's hips began to pump, fucking hotly 
up into her widely ovaled mouth, and the camera began to move around and the 
girl was up on her knees now, her legs spread, her hand sawing in and out 
like a blur while her head, over the cock, bobbed up and down in a deep, 
fucking rhythm designed to bring an orgasm on and ... it came, the 
cameraman's hips stiffening and then twitching, the camera lurching to one 
side as he exploded into the girl's mouth and her cheeks bulged with 
white-hot cum and the cords stood out in her neck and she swallowed the cum 
and fought for breath through her nostrils which flared with passion as she 
greedily sucked, increasing her tempo while her buttocks bumped and ground 
desperately down on her finger-fucking fingers. 

The cameraman was limp and the girl barely in the frame as she continued 
sucking, the great cock in her mouth growing flaccid and limp as she sucked 
furiously and fell on her side and her body stiffened and straightened and 
her mouth fell open as she abruptly came and the spent cock slid from her 
mouth as she lay, twitching, moaning, relishing her own orgasm, her eyes 
closed, rubbery strands of cum on her lips still connecting her to the 
cameraman's cock. 

Then the screen went white and film slapped around the reel and a moan went 
up from the men and Chuck turned the projector off and snapped on the 
lights. "Refreshment time," he called out. 

Bill got up, embarrassed by his erection in front of so many men. No one 
seemed to pay attention to him as they all crowded around the bar. He joined 
them, feeling safety in numbers. "Damn good show," a stranger said to him. 

Bill's face was flushed and all he could do was nod. 

"First time here?" the stranger asked. "Chuck always gets something like 
this." 

Bill nodded and said, "I need a drink." 

"Don't blame you," the stranger laughed. "We all need a drink after that." 
He bent close, winking, "A little drink, then later, a little nookie! Huh!" 

Bill nodded and poured himself a drink. He didn't want to admit that he had 
just seen his first stag film. A phone was ringing behind the bar and Chuck 
was answering it, one finger in his other ear to drown out the conversation 
that was going on. Bill was surprised when Chuck turned, searched the faces 
crowded around, saw Bill and indicated the call was for him. 

He took the phone from Chuck with a quizzical frown. "Hello?" 

"Bill?" 

"Yes." He recognized the voice immediately. It was Carol. "Where are you?" 

"I'm upstairs and I want you to come up and get me." 

"Get you? Why?" 

"I want to go home." 

"Home?" Bill asked, beginning practically every sentence with a question. 
"Anything wrong?" 

"I just want to go home." 

"Why? I mean, what's the matter?" 

"Oh, very well," Carol said in a testy voice, "I'm not feeling well. Now, 
please come up here and take me home." 

"What? Well, okay." He hung the phone up and stood looking at it for a 
minute. What could have happened? He had been married to Carol long enough 
to recognize that testy quality in her voice. With a shrug, he turned to 
Chuck and said, "I got to go upstairs and see what's wrong with my wife." 

Chuck raised his eyebrows. "Home? This party is just getting off the ground. 
We got some more movies to see and then the fun will really get going. 
Waytogo." 

"I know and I'd like to stay, but I got to go up and see what's wrong with 
her." 

Chuck squinted at him. "You know, there's that old question of who wears the 
pants, boy." 

Bill was stung by the statement but only nodded. "Well, I can at least go 
up." 

Upstairs, Bill found Carol sitting by herself in the living room, her hands 
in her lap. "Where is everybody?" 

Carol got up, her purse in her hand. "Still on that house tour. Bill," Carol 
looked at him with a level gaze, "I never want to come here again!" 

 CHAPTER 3 

Bill knew certain things about Carol before he married her. For one he knew 
that she was capable of being a bitch whenever anything displeased her. For 
another, he knew that she was quite a prude and reproached him whenever he 
got sexy or, as she put it, "fresh" around her. 

Their wedding night was only a grim confirmation of his worst fears and 
suspicions. Carol was frigid. It was a terrible truth that Bill accepted 
reluctantly and only after exhausting every possibility he could think of. 
Not only was she frigid, she was a prude and refused to go see films like I 
Am Curious, Yellow, or to read books that Bill would recommend. 

Once, on his way home, Bill had stopped in a liquor store for cigarettes and 
was attracted to the magazine rack where he saw rows of girlie magazines. 
One magazine contained lurid articles about nudist camps and accompanying 
pictures of nude men and women. On an impulse, he had bought the magazine 
and taken it home and shown it to Carol. She didn't speak to him for three 
days. 

And, she wasn't speaking to him as he drove her home from the Spanner party. 
"Honey," Bill pleaded, "Will you please tell me what's wrong?" 

"You know." 

"I don't know. When I left you, you seemed perfectly all right." 

"When you left me," she said, her lips twisting. 

"Yes, I went with the other men." 

"Yes." She turned a withering look on him. "And what were you doing?" 

"Watching movies." 

"What kind?" 

Bill exploded. "Damn it, it wasn't my house, my party, or my film! What did 
you expect me to do?" 

Carol didn't answer the question, she simply stared straight ahead. At home, 
she went directly to their bedroom and locked herself in the bathroom; a 
trick of hers that drove Bill insane. It seemed to him that whenever she was 
mad at him, she would stick a few barbs into his ego and then retreat. 
Disgusted, he headed for the kitchen where they kept a bottle of scotch. He 
poured himself a generous slug and downed it in one swift gulp and stood 
gagging. 

Damn it, God damn it, he thought, why am I always at fault? It's almost as 
if she looks for things to fight about. 

He poured himself yet another drink, this one more generous than the first. 
In truth, it was more than just Carol. The whole evening had been 
unbelieveable to him and he was aroused. What kind of couple were the 
Spanner's? And what of Anne Spanner? God, he thought, the bosses wife! 

He sat down at the kitchen table and finished his drink, his hand trembling 
as he thought of Anne Spanner and her lewd behavior and of the girl in the 
stag movie. Jesus, he thought, pouring himself still another drink, what 
must it be like to be with a woman like Anne? Licking his lips, he thought: 
I bet you could do anything to her. Anything! 

If Bill had even an inkling of how right he was about Anne, he would have 
had an orgasm right then and there. At that moment, back at the Spanner's, 
lovely Anne was naked. Her rich willowy body glistened, for it had been 
covered with oil and she stood in the middle of her bedroom slowly turning 
around. 

Chuck Spanner was sprawled on the bed, naked, his huge cock rigidly erect. 
Next to him lay Muriel Abrams, clad only in a bikini panties, her breasts 
free and full. Chuck was fondling her stomach, his hand running lower and 
idly tugging at her panties. Muriel spread her legs and thrust her pelvis 
upward as her hand slid across Chuck's hairy body and gently touched his 
penis. Chuck gave her a quick look and laughed. "Horny, huh?" 

"Always." 

Rolling on his side, he roughly pulled her panties down around her knees and 
his fingers spread the lips of her cunt wide, revealing the wet pinkness of 
the walls of her vagina. "Hey, honey, look at Muriel." 

Anne turned with a dreamy stare and murmured. Her eyes were glazed. In fact, 
all of them had a dreamy, absent, dazed look to their faces. The reason 
could be found with Harvey, Muriel's husband. He was seated in the corner of 
the bedroom, naked, holding his erect prick in one hand while he puffed on a 
marijuana cigarette. Harvey, through some hippy connections, was the source 
for grass at the Spanner parties. He sat, holding his breath, a lewd smile 
on his face as he ignored his wife and Chuck and watched Anne's gleaming 
buttocks as she slowly turned in time to the music; low, cool jazz being 
played on the stereo. 

Muriel had kicked her panties off and was lying naked, her legs spread wide 
and her hips pumping as Chuck teasingly massaged her fully exposed cunt. Her 
eyes were half closed and she was murmuring to herself. "Oh, baby, not too 
hard, be nice to mama." 

"When I get through with you, you'll know you've been fucked," Chuck said in 
a low voice. 

"Is that a threat or a promise?" 

"Anyway you want it baby." 

"I want it everyway. All ways." 

Chuck gave a harsh laugh. "And you'll get it!" 

"I can't wait to get that Murcer kid." 

Anne smiled and rubbed her hands over her oiled and supple body. "Have to 
get in line, Muriel." 

"Yeah," Chuck said, "Don't upset the applecart. I got him all set up. You'll 
get your turn." 

Muriel was getting hot now her hips rotating around as Chuck sunk a finger 
in her cunt and she cupped her breasts in her hands and closed her eyes. 
"Oh, baby, I can't wait." 

"You'll wait," Chuck said with a teasing tone to his voice. "When the time 
is right, you'll get yours and I'll get mine." 

Over in the corner, Harvey exhaled and laughed. "You won't be the only one. 
That Murcer bitch is too much. Built like a brick shithouse." 

"Yeah," Chuck said, grinning, "And it is going to be fun breaking her down. 
She's a little like you were a year ago, baby," he said to Muriel. "Want me 
to tell you what we're going to do to her?" 

Muriel sucked in her breath. "Jesus, Tell me!" 

Chuck bent over her and, with a grin, started whispering in her ear. 
Muriel's mouth fell open and her eyes rolled around in her head and she 
moaned, "Oh, God!" Her hips began moving faster as Chuck sawed his finger in 
and out of her fleshy moist cunt while her hands played with the nipples of 
her breasts, nursing them erect. "Chuck, you bastard, you beautiful bastard! 
Tell me more!" 

Chuck and Harvey laughed. "Turns you on does it?" 

"You know it!" she hissed passionately out. 

"Tell me more and fuck me at the same time!" 

"Waytogo! I wanna hear you beg for it, baby." Chuck said in a rough voice. 

"Please, please!" Muriel begged, thrashing around on the bed, her eyes wild, 
looking around the room at Anne and her husband grinning at her. "Please! 
Fuck me! Do those things you were saying, to me! Please!" 

Chuck gave a cold cruel laugh. He delighted in seeing women craven and 
begging. He pulled his hand away and fell back on the bed. "Maybe I will and 
maybe I won't. Suck it for awhile. I want to watch Harvey try to catch a 
greased pig." 

"Hey," Anne said, stopping her dancing and pouting. "I resent being called a 
pig." 

"Sorry, baby, just a figure of speech. They call cops 'pigs' too. Whatever 
you are, you ain't no pig. Come on Harvey, or are you too stoned?" 

Harvey put the burning joint out and got to his feet. "Never too stoned for 
that." Greedy glazed eyes took in Anne's naked body. A depraved grin came 
across his face. Anne, a flaming redhead with big firm breasts and an 
incredibly thin waist and wide hips and long, willowy thighs and legs, began 
dancing more wildly, running her hands over her body, having them meet at 
her crotch where they hotly kneaded her pubic hair as her hips twitched and 
bumped hungrily out in front of her. 

Harvey made a lunge for her and she danced away. 

Chuck, on the bed, propped his head up on some pillows and roughly grabbed 
Muriel and tangled his hands in her hair and pulled her toward his throbbing 
cock. Muriel didn't need much encouragement, seizing his mammoth cock with 
both her hands and opening her mouth wide to suck on the head while she 
rolled her eyes around to watch her husband struggling with Anne in the 
middle of the room. Chuck had the biggest cock she had ever seen and she 
loved being fucked by him, loved the feeling of her vaginal walls being 
split beyond belief, to the point where she felt she was going to be split 
in two and the pain mounted and rose until she thought she couldn't endure 
another stroke or second and then, then, magically, pleasure mixed with the 
pain and built and swelled until she was in ecstasy. Thinking of the 
pleasure that was sure, sooner or later, to come, she sucked fervently on 
his cock, the thick massive head filling her mouth completely. 

Harvey was lunging at Anne who was nimble and quick, dodging and slipping 
away with her breasts leaping and quivering, her entire glistening body 
quivering and undulating, driving Harvey mad. 

Harvey crouched low and lunged, getting one arm on a thigh. Anne wiggled 
free and his arm slid down her leg and he fell heavily to the floor. He got 
up, breathing hard, crouching like a lineman in a football game as Anne 
circled him. "You bitch!" he hissed. 

He lunged again and tackled her around the waist, the two of them falling 
heavily to the floor where they writhed, Harvey grunting and crawling atop 
her. Anne was too quick and, using the lubrication of the oil, she slipped 
out from under him, leaving him face-flat on the floor. She was laughing, 
getting to her feet when Harvey's arm shot out and snared her ankle. Anne 
was crawling across the floor, laughing, her breasts pendulous as Harvey 
crawled after her, his own body smeared with oil. On the bed, Muriel was on 
her knees now, still sucking, feeling Chuck's cock swell in her mouth. Below 
them, on the floor, Harvey was getting both hands on Anne now, wrapping his 
thick arms around her thighs and lifting them off the floor, forcing her 
over on her back. Then, on his knees, his cock big and waving, he spread her 
thighs apart and looked down at the swollen loveliness of her cunt and the 
hot moist slit framed by her red pubic hair. "Now, baby, you're going to get 
it!" he roared. 

He fell on her and they were a tangle of arms and legs as he fucked her with 
all the pent-up lust and frustration booming out as his balls slapped 
against her oiled buttocks and Anne wrapped her long glistening legs around 
his thick torso and locked her ankles and thrust her hips up with all her 
might. 

On the bed, Chuck raised his head to watch Harvey's cock plunging in and out 
of his wife's cunt. "Jesus!" he said hoarsely and, using his superior 
strength, he pulled Muriel's vacuuming mouth off his cock and rolled off the 
bed and onto the floor. Muriel, giving a little cry of lewd triumph, fell 
off the bed and on top of him and, in a matter of seconds, they were a 
writhing mass of hot lustful flesh, together on the floor, abandoned, 
indifferent to who did what to whom. 

 CHAPTER 4 

Carol lay in bed and bit her lip, not wanting to cry. The room was dark and 
she heard Bill moving from the kitchen to the living room of their small 
apartment. 

What in God's name was there to do, she wondered. She never dreamed it would 
be this way. Marriage was not what she had expected or been told it would 
be. Her mother and father seemed so happy. Biting her lips again, she asked 
a silent question: why, oh why, couldn't they be like her mother and father? 
They were so good and kind and gentle to each other. 

Her mind drifted back to when she was living at home and had met Bill. 
Although she had dates before she met him, she had never been serious about 
anyone and had never, ever, gone to bed with anyone. Bill had been the first 
and only man in her young life. 

In the dark, she smiled bitterly. The phrase, gone-to-bed, sticking in her 
mind. She had heard of it, along with some filthy four letter words. It had 
been one of those four letter words that had set her off back at the Spanner 
party. She knew that Chuck was Bill's boss and, it was important to 
cultivate both of the Spanners if he was going to get ahead. But, she had 
overheard that smirking and vulgar Abram's woman use the word, "Fuck." And 
others. She had been humiliated by the other women when she innocently asked 
what the men were up to. Muriel had rolled her eyes and said, "I wish I was 
there and instead of a movie, they had me." 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"They're watching home movies," Anne Spanner had said with an enigmatic look 
at Muriel. "That must be nice." 

All the women had laughed or smiled and Carol had stood, feeling as if she 
had been scalded. Something about the glances they ex changed, the way they 
grinned at her, told her they were making fun of her. 

"Oh, come on, you're not that naive. Nobody is," Muriel said scornfully. 

Anne shot Muriel a warning glance. "You know how men are, honey," she said, 
turning back to Carol. "They just like to get together and whoop it up 
without the women around, that's all." 

"That's all, my foot!" Muriel said. "What the hell, what's everybody afraid 
of? They're watching some stag movies." 

Carol looked blank. She knew what 'stag movies' were, but she couldn't 
believe her ears. Here were wives, knowing about it, and laughing over such 
an evil thing! 

"Feelthy pictures!" Muriel leered, imitating some Tijuana pimp. 

Carol was stunned. Her husband, Bill, was down there watching something 
obscene and filthy going on, and he didn't tell her about it! He had known 
yet pretended he didn't know! He was down there with other men, leering and 
laughing and loving it, watching some debasement, some hideous perversion of 
the thing she called 'love.' 

And now in the darkness of their bedroom, with Bill out in the living room 
with the TV on, crystal tears welled in her eyes and b-rimmed over to flow 
down her cheeks. Had there been a light on, she couldn't have seen; didn't, 
at that moment, care to see. She was thinking of leaving Bill, of going home 
to her parents, where she could be safe and secure. She loved her parents 
and they loved her. Her father was a fine man, a gentleman, and treated her 
kindly and lovingly Carol had developed early. When she had entered high 
school, she already was shapely and drew crude wolf calls from the boys and 
heard them mutter smutty suggestions to her in class and when she was 
walking down the hall. She hated P. E. when she had to don the gym uniform 
and run out on the field, her breasts jouncing as all the boys ran to the 
fence that separated the practice field and she would go through 
calisthenics while the boys hooted and made catcalls and some even called 
out vulgar suggestions until their gym teacher could come get them and force 
them away. Even some of the younger male teachers looked at her with 
something other than an academic interest. 

Rather than being proud of her body, she was ashamed of it. It was too 
fine-boned and voluptuous, too beautifully curved and refined. No one would 
ever have trouble telling she was a woman. When she walked, it was like oil 
pouring or jello quivering. She couldn't help it and, at home, in the 
privacy of her room, she practiced walking in a way that wasn't suggestive. 
She wore high necked clothes and stayed away from miniskirts. 

She became known as an 'old-fashioned' girl, a mother's baby, a 'square.' 
She didn't mind when boys failed to call for dates and those that did, had 
to meet with her parents approval before she was allowed to go out with 
them. Her parents were strict, yet loving. She had had long talks with her 
mother about the 'state of matrimony' and what was expected and what was 
allowed and what was 'decent.' Her parents were religious and Carol, 
naturally, was too. Most of her dates were at church socials which were 
chaperoned and supervised and most of her dates were with a young boy, Jeff 
Winters. Her parents had approved of Jeff and, although there was whispered 
gossip that Jeff was "A little too refined, a little too effeminate for his 
own good," Carol had liked him and had enjoyed going on dates with him. Jeff 
was always a gentleman, a good dancer and funny. And, with Jeff, she had 
felt 'safe.' He would never do anything to embarrass her. It had been fun 
being with Jeff, almost as if he had been another girl friend and she was 
sorry that he finally moved away, to New York City, where he got a job 
decorating windows for Macy's. Jeff had always been clever and, when picking 
her up for a date, had sat and chatted with her mother about interior 
decorating. 

Wistfully, Carol wondered if she could ever find Jeff again. It would be 
nice to see him and talk with him. Her mother had always hinted that perhaps 
Jeff might be a nice young man to "Get serious with." 

Carol sighed and wondered, if they had continued dating and gotten married, 
just what their wedding night would have been like. Certainly not like what 
had happened with Bill. 

After the wedding, Bill had driven a breakneck speed to the hotel they were 
going to stay at the first night of their honeymoon. He had driven with a 
half-drunken recklessness, and several times she had pleaded with him to 
slow down. In their room, while she had demurely retired to the bathroom to 
change into her negligee, Bill had drunk, like a crazy man, from a bottle of 
scotch some friends of his had given them at the reception. 

Coming from the bathroom, Carol had hoped it would be the way she had always 
dreamed it would be, the way her mother and minister told her it should be; 
a thing of beauty and tenderness and understanding and, somehow, some way, 
being "nearer to God and Christ." Her mother had told her that her wedding 
night had been a thing she would never forget as long as she lived. "Your 
father was so understanding and so refined, I fell in love with him all over 
again." 

And, instead of her father sitting in the chair, rising gallantly when she 
walked into the room and being a gentleman and doing ... Carol wasn't really 
sure what he had done or what anyone was supposed to do ... she just 
imagined music and a good feeling and.... "Being nearer to God." Instead, 
there was Bill, a glass in his hand, his eyes glazed and his speech thick. 
His face was covered with sweat as he lurched to his feet and his eyes, his 
eyes were lustful and greedy and disgusting as he took in her body and he 
swore and grabbed her and threw her down on the bed and, like an animal, 
like a wild man, he tore at his clothing and then at her beautiful negligee 
and ripped it, ruining it forever. 

It had been a nightmare, with her pleading, trying to keep her voice down so 
no one could hear, trying desperately to talk to him, to penetrate his 
alcoholic haze, but he only grunted and slurred filthy words and hurt her 
until, lying on top of her, her negligee torn half off her body, with his 
crude hands pawing her, massaging her in secret and intimate places, she had 
submitted and he had fucked her. 

And she had loved it! 

A guilty, lustful, hideous feeling had swept over her and, for a split 
second, there had been the lewd, obscene knowledge flowing in her body; that 
guilt-ridden lubricious knowing that she was doing something terribly wrong 
and depraved and perverted and loving it! 

She was not what she thought she was! She was not like her mother! She was 
not a good person! Nor was Bill, for he was dragging her into evil ways and 
she wanted to shout, scream for him to go on and suddenly, he roared and his 
body stiffened and she felt his cock grow in spasms in her tight little cunt 
and she felt his cum, hot and plentiful, shooting into, filling her up with 
a hot wetness and a lewdness swept through her body and she felt she would 
like that many more times. 

And then, then, when she was passionate, when she felt herself teetering on 
the edge of an abyss, when she felt she could abandon all her training and 
she could fall, wanton, lewd, into a deep valley of sin and sex and never 
return, when she felt her body alive and tingling with some kind of unholy 
electricity, when she felt her hips beginning to move in an alien animal 
way, Bill grunted and his body relaxed and all his sodden alcoholic weight 
pressed down on her and he passed out. 

It took some doing to get him off of her and he finally rolled over and 
snored loudly and Carol was left lying on the bed, her desire waning, her 
guilt coming back. She put her hands over her face and cried. This was not 
the way it was supposed to be, this was not anything but an animal act, a 
mindless pleasure of the flesh. And she was no better than he. She had let 
him throw her around and treat her like a whore and, had he not passed out 
to her own growing horror, she would have acted the same way. 

Crying, she stumbled to the bathroom and looked at her tear stained face in 
the mirror, at her beautiful full-moon breasts with red marks where he had 
roughly clutched them. Using a towel, she gingerly dried her vagina and 
wiped all the sticky cum off the insides of her thighs and, gritting her 
fine white teeth, looked in the mirror at her fine-boned face with her slim 
exquisite nose and her tilted green eyes and vowed, no matter what, never 
again! 

And she kept that vow. She loved Bill, there was no doubt of that and, all 
in all, he was a fine person with a good character. If it weren't for sex, 
there life together was a good one. He was kind to her, a hard worker, 
ambitious, never forgot an important event like a birthday, and neat. At 
times, he could be very funny. Although, like most men, he disliked going to 
church, he would go with Carol when she thought it was important. 

But, it was the matter of sex that was becoming a widening gulf between 
them. Carol spent a great deal of time thinking about it. She knew that Bill 
was not very experienced in sexual matters. At least, he said he wasn't and 
she had to admit that he was an honest person, not given to lying. She 
decided he had to be educated. His vulgar suggestions and tendencies had to 
be dealt with firmly. He would see the light, he would treat her with 
respect and love. When he brought home a nudist magazine filled with color 
pictures of naked men and women and shyly-with just the hint of a dirty 
smirk-suggested she look at it, she had taken it from him without a word, 
put it in a brown bag, and thrown it in the garbage. "There," she had said 
triumphantly, "Now it's where it belongs!" 

Carol seldom if ever drank and only allowed liquor in the house as something 
to offer guests. One Saturday night, they had gone to a movie that Bill 
wanted to see. "The guys at work were talking about it." When they arrived 
at the theatre, Carol looked at the pictures displayed in the lobby and knew 
it was a sex film. She had been firm, saying she wouldn't go, that if he 
wanted to go by himself to see such filth, it was all right with her, but 
first, he had to take her home. 

They had ended up going to see a Walt Disney "family film" and Bill had 
sulked all the way through it. Back at home, he had poured himself a drink 
despite her disapproving gaze. He had had several drinks then gone to fetch 
a deck of cards and put them in front of her and, with a smutty smile, 
suggest they play poker. 

"Poker? Just the two of us?" 

"Yeah," he had said, "Strip poker." 

The deck of cards joined the magazine in the garbage. 

She constantly warned and urged Bill not to drink, for she noticed that he 
became lewd and crude after drinking. Now, lying in her bed and fighting the 
feeling of self pity, she knew that he was in the living room, watching TV 
and probably drinking. She also knew that she had strained relations with 
the Spanners by her behavior at the party and, perhaps, ruined or at least 
damaged Bill's chances of advancement at work. She felt bad about it, but 
felt it was the right thing to do. If things were too bad, there were other 
jobs. Not everyone was like the Spanners. She admitted to herself that she 
didn't like them and their friends. Particularly Chuck Spanner who was just 
a little too friendly and leering and insinuating. She had felt her flesh 
crawl the way he had sat next to her at the party, so close, his eyes 
roving, and his hand squeezing her shoulder. There was an energy, an evil 
energy that the man exuded. She felt uncomfortable around him and hoped she 
would not be seeing him again. 

The door to the bedroom slowly opened and light from the living room flooded 
across the bed. Carol hastily wiped her eyes and saw Bill standing 
silhouetted in the doorway. From his stance, from the way his arms swung at 
his sides, she knew he was drinking. Without a word, he came to the bed and 
fell on top of her and she struggled, turning her head to avoid the 
alcoholic fumes that reeked from his questing mouth. They struggled silently 
with Carol holding the covers up while his weight pressed on her. Even 
though they were separated by clothing and covers she could feel the 
hardness of his member pressing on her stomach. "No, Bill, you've had too 
much to drink!" 

"Damn it, Carol!" he grunted. 

"I said NO, not when you're like this! 

"How then!" he shouted, getting up, "How? God damn it, are you frigid? What 
in hell did you marry me for?" he demanded, stalking the room and waving his 
arms. "What in Christ's name do you want?" 

Carol sobbed. "I want you to treat me decent, like a husband should!" Tears 
scalded her face. 

Bill stood in the middle of the room and gaped at her. "And how is that? You 
don't want a husband, you want a God damned roommate!" 

"Oh, Bill, don't yell so, the neighbors will here." 

"Fuck the neighbors!" he shouted, stalking to the door. "That's not a bad 
idea," he said, coming back, pointing a finger, "Since I can't fuck you. 
Every night, there's some excuse and I go around feeling guilty and 
apologizing because you make me feel like I've done something wrong. Listen, 
Carol." He bent over the bed and his hands seized her shoulders and he shook 
her as his reeking breath blasted in her face. "I'm going to tell you 
something. You got some weird notion of what sex and love are and I'm sick 
of it. You'd better do some hard thinking because I'm a man and, God damn 
it, a human being with feelings and desires and if you don't shape up, 
you're going to be sorry and find yourself minus one husband and back in 
that ivory tower you call home. And, he shook her so her head snapped with 
each and every word. "You'll ... end ... up ... an ... old ... maid!" Then, 
he threw her back on the bed and stalked from the room, slamming the door so 
hard a picture jumped from the wall and fell, with a crash, to the floor. 
Carol lay stiff in bed, her whole body jumping as the front door opened and 
slammed with a repercussion booming through the house. "Oh my God," she 
wailed up into the dark, "What am I going to do?" 

"What am I going to do?" Bill asked, wild, walking, his hands in his 
pockets. He felt he had drunk too much to take the car and he only wanted to 
walk to work off his anger and clear his head. 

He walked along, head down, his legs snapping out under him. A malicious 
smile came over his lips. He knew what he was going to do. He hadn't really 
admitted it to himself prior to now. Since things were the way they were, he 
was going to take Anne Spanner up on her offer and call her. Thinking of his 
young wife's reflection, he said aloud, "It serves her right!" 

 CHAPTER 5 

By the time Bill returned home, Carol had fallen into a deep but troubled 
sleep. He lay in silence beside her, listening to her murmurings. He felt 
sorry he had treated her so badly and vowed to make it up to her. Maybe he 
could find a way-or help-to change her attitude about sex. God, he thought, 
she's got such a magnificent body. Until their wedding night, he didn't 
really believe that all he saw belonged to Carol. Yet, it was true. Her 
breasts were large, almost too big for her body, yet they didn't sag but 
stayed proudly erect, like twin honeydew melons. Her rib cage was delicate, 
curving down to a long silky smooth stomach that had just the right 
contours. She had a jutting mound of Venus and two provocative pelvic bones 
prominent and inviting. Her thighs were full and well developed. When she 
wore high heels, her calf muscles bulged invitingly. And her buttocks. Bill 
groaned aloud whenever he thought of her buttocks. They were full and deep 
and soft, with just the hint of a shadow under each cheek. 

He lay in bed, feeling another erection coming on and he longed to roll on 
top of her and fuck her into a frenzy then ram his cock into her mouth and 
see those full red lips lose their dignity and suck him off. His mind 
swarmed with obscene things he wanted to do with her and to her. Yet, he 
controlled himself and closed his eyes, trying to will sleep. Tomorrow, he 
would call Anne Spanner. Maybe she had been drunk. The Spanners drank a lot. 
Maybe she wouldn't remember or maybe the way he had acted had turned her 
off. He would see. Anne Spanner was no slouch herself. She was a big redhead 
with a magnificent build and he loved the idea of fucking her. It was 
dangerous. Chuck was not only his boss, he was somebody that Bill wouldn't 
want to tangle with. 

He drifted off to sleep with a monster erection and had wild dreams of naked 
women crawling all over him. 

When they got up in the morning, he was extra nice to Carol and she seemed 
grateful. As he was leaving, he gave her a peck on the cheek and said, "I'm 
sorry about the way I acted. I've been thinking about it. Maybe I should 
change my ways. Maybe we should sit down and have a heart-to-heart talk." 

Carol felt a bubble burst in her throat and she made a face to keep from 
crying again. "Oh, Bill, I love you. My face must look terrible." 

"What do you mean?" 

"My eyes. They're all puffy. Yes, we'll talk about it. How about tonight? 
I'll cook a pork roast. That's your favorite." 

His face clouded over. "Eh, well, yeah, maybe. I forgot. Chuck said we might 
have to work overtime tonight. Something about getting the Mannings job 
out." 

"Oh," Carol said, visibly disappointed. 

"I'll know by this afternoon and call you. Okay?" 

"Okay," she said, smiling through her disappointment. 

"Wayto...." Bill stopped. He didn't want to imitate Chuck or even mention 
the Spanner name. "Thata gal. I'll see you." And he took her in his arms and 
hugged her and gave her another peck on the cheek. Then, impulsively, he 
kissed her on the mouth. 

She responded warmly and then he pulled free and left, waving all the way to 
the car. Once out of sight, he thought, Jesus, what a bastard I am. Then he 
smiled at the thought, thinking he had never felt so alive as he did now, 
anticipating all the pleasures to come. 

Once at work, an ugly reality came into his mind. How would Chuck react to 
their abrupt and rather impolite leaving? Perhaps, because of Carol, his 
fantasy of fucking Mrs. Spanner might just be that: a fantasy and nothing 
more. 

Yet, Chuck was full of his usual vigor and casualness. "Say, sorry you and 
the missus couldn't stay. Anything wrong?" 

"Naw," Bill said, inwardly sighing with relief, but outwardly full of 
bravado. "You know how women are. She's okay now." 

"Waytogo! Look, Bill, I got some things to do." Chuck suddenly was 
preoccupied and Bill watched him carefully. "Wouldn't you know it?" Chuck 
went on, "First damn thing in the morning and I get a call on the Slate job. 
Somebody upstate can't read blueprints so I got to fly up there late this 
afternoon." 

Bill's heart gave a little flip-flop of joy. 

Chuck would be out of town overnight! He grinned at him, liking the feeling 
that he was putting something over on such a guy as Chuck Spanner. "Oh, too 
bad." 

"Yeah. And me with a hangover. Look, I'm taking you off the Mannings job and 
I want you to spend the morning checking out the Slate job so that I'll know 
what the hell I'm talking about when I get up there. I've called Anne and 
she'll have my bags packed and I'll leave the office by three and catch the 
four-thirty plane so I'll want your analysis by no later than two. Got it?" 

"You'll have it by lunch," Bill said, slapping him on the back. "Waytogo." 

Bill worked with a meticulous care, one eye on the clock. He had the papers 
on Chuck's desk by eleven-thirty and coasted until lunch, savoring the whole 
feeling. It was exciting and dangerous. And, he was being a bastard. A 
bastard to his wife and to Chuck. But, there was something really exciting 
about it. He had been a nice guy all his life and where had it gotten him? 
Now, he was going to take what he wanted and the hell with the rest. The 
half hour from eleven-thirty until noon seemed to drag by like it was wading 
through hip-deep mud. At noon, the guys, his fellow workers, invited him to 
lunch with them. He said he would, but first had to call home to see how his 
wife was. "She's not feeling too well." 

"Too bad." 

Outside the office, he had to keep himself from sprinting to the corner 
drugstore. Seating himself in the booth, he folded the door closed and then 
looked carefully at the other customers in the store, a dime in his sweaty 
fingers. He didn't recognize any of them. Swiftly, he dialed Chuck Spanner's 
home number. 

The phone rang once, twice, and then was snapped up. "Yes?" a low husky 
voice asked. 

He felt a throbbing, a pulsating in his groin. It couldn't be anyone else. 
"Anne?" he asked rhetorically, thrilled by the fact that he was calling her 
by her first name. 

"Bill? Bill Murcer?" There was a yawn, then the voice went on. "Well, Bill 
is growing up." There was a pause and he imagined she was still in bed, 
naked, and rolling over on her stomach to smile into the receiver. Her voice 
came over the receiver and into his ear low and sexy, really saying much 
more than the simple question she put to him. "And, are you free tonight? 
Can Billy come out and play?" 

"Sure am," Bill said with some bravado. 

"Well, that's nice. A nice coincidence. Why don't you come over here around, 
oh, say, five or five-thirty and we can get together for a drink and 
little...." and her voice trailed off into a low register, "Little fun." 

Bill felt like dropping the phone and masturbating right then and there. 
Instead, he said, "Sure thing. See you." 

"You're gonna see all of me." 

Bill swallowed and hung up with a shaking hand. He sat for a full minute, 
trying to compose himself. This, he thought, is really happening. This is 
happening to me, Bill, William Murcer! 

With a wild elation, he dialed his home number and set his face in a 
remorseful, respectable cast as the phone rang once and then was answered by 
Carol. "Hello? Bill?" 

"Yeah, it's me," he said, striving for a disgusted tone in his voice. "And 
I've got to work. No way out of it." 

"Oh, I'm sorry. Will you be terribly late?" 

"I think so. Don't worry, this is an emergency. Doesn't happen too often." 

"Shall I wait up for you?" Carol asked, a plaintive quality in her voice. 

"No telling how late I'll be," he answered, barely resisting a wild impulse 
to laugh. "Why don't you go visit your parents?" 

Carol sighed. "Maybe I will. I miss you and I did so want to see you tonight 
and talk. 

"Another night," he said, smiling into the phone. Another night, he thought, 
tonight, I'm going to have a ball. 

"I love you." 

"I love you, too. And I gotta go. "Don't work too hard." 

Again, he resisted an urge to laugh. "I won't. Just do my job. Bye." 

"Bye." 

He hung the phone up and sat back with a sigh. He had lied and lied 
successfully. He was a bastard. And, late today, tonight, he was going to 
fuck the boss's wife in his own bed. The thought made him smile. He was 
really going to put one over on a lot of people. 

If the half hour between eleven-thirty and noon dragged, the rest of the day 
seemed to positively stand still. No matter how hard he worked no matter how 
much he accomplished, every time he looked up at the clock, it seemed that 
hours had gone by in his desire but only a few minutes on the cold 
impersonal clock. Everything, he thought, is relative. 

The work day finally over, Bill tried to be casual and matter-of-fact with 
his coworkers. He had seen Chuck hurrying out of the place earlier, an 
attache case in his hands, saying, "I'll see you tomorrow or the next day. 
Waytogo!" 

"Just the way to go," Chuck said, under his breath, "And when you're going, 
I'll be coming," he added and tried not to smile. 

As he got near the Spanners, he lost his composure and thought: supposing 
someone sees me? I can't park at their place. Too bad it isn't dark before I 
get there. 

He drove past the Spanner home, thinking of the swanky neighborhood they 
lived in. Although Spanner's job was good, this was a stiff rent area to 
live in. Rumor had it that Chuck had plenty of money, that, at one time, he 
had owned a company of his own and had left it, sold it, for reasons 
unknown. Whatever his background, one thing was clear: Chuck Spanner had 
money to spend and he lived in a high style. There was always a look and 
smirk when his name was brought up at work. Nothing much that Bill could 
ever make out was said, but he got the general impression that Chuck was 
quite a guy, a "swinger." He had heard the word used more than once in 
connection with Chuck. Perhaps, he thought as he drove by their house, 
perhaps I'm not the first guy to make this trip. 

Had he known, fully realized, had been able, by some supernatural sense, to 
know what was in store for him and Carol, he might have driven on. But, he 
didn't. All he could think of, all he could see in his mind's eye was a 
vision of Anne Spanner standing with her legs far apart and a lewd smile on 
her lips as she had hiked her dress up around her waist. 

Driving on, a nearby shopping center seemed to answer all of his immediate 
problems. He parked outside the supermarket, checked to see if there were 
any customers he could possibly know, then swiftly stepped out of the car, 
locked it, and walked away. In his mind, he was pinpointing the location of 
the Spanner house. There were back streets, nice, curving, residential 
houses set well back from the street, through which he could walk, staying 
away from the main streets through which he had just driven. 

He walked swiftly, looking ahead, noting with delight that the Spanner house 
had a back entrance. He paused, at the foot of the walk, wondering, for a 
moment, if he was doing a wise thing? Supposing, he thought, something 
happened? Chuck's plane didn't get off and he's home? Wouldn't it be better 
to retrace his steps to the supermarket and call first? 

Hell no, he thought with a swagger, she would have called. Whatever else she 
is, she's no dummy. And so what if he is home? Bill, the bastard will think 
of something to say. Way to go. 

He rang the back door bell and waited, gazing into their spacious and 
well-appointed kitchen. All the latest in electric gear was in there. Anne 
Spanner came through the kitchen with a drink in her hand and a quizzical 
look on her face. She smiled when she saw Bill and hurried to the door. She 
opened it and leaned against the doorjamb, one provocative hip thrust 
invitingly out. "Well, look who's here." 

Bill looked at her. It was quite an experience, gazing into those 
startlingly blue eyes framed by red hair and orange lipstick. She was 
wearing a simple low-cut cocktail dress, black and with a very short hem, 
showing plenty of her curvaceous legs. Right then and there, he wanted to 
attack her, fuck her, right there in the doorway. She looked, smelled, 
reeked, and raged of sex. Here, in front of him, was a desirable woman, 
flaunting her femininity as she thrust her hips out toward him and her 
cherry-red tongue thrust out between her lips as she smiled and said, "Don't 
just stand there. Come on in and have a drink and do all kinds of obscene 
things to me." 

He followed her through the kitchen. Outside, pale blue-white moonlight made 
the night clear and still. The moonlight came in long shafts into the 
kitchen, catching Anne in an aura of sensuality as she moved, ahead of him, 
her buttocks swinging in a tantalizing motion, slow and rolling. Bill 
swallowed, already aroused and afraid. He could not resist asking, "Did ... 
did, ah, Chuck get off okay?" 

Over her shoulder, her billowing red hair caught and softened by the 
moonlight, she smiled wickedly. "All's well and the only thing you have to 
fear is," and her cherry-red tongue licked her lips as if she had just 
tasted something delicious, "me." 

She led him through the house that was at once familiar and alien. Last time 
he was here, there had been so many people. They went down to the romper 
room and, again he had that sense that it was the same, yet different. The 
projector and screen were gone. Beside the bar was a large TV set and what 
looked like a push-button console. Bill tried to remember it and couldn't. 
At the party the TV and console had been draped by a sheet and he had 
supposed it was something under construction conveniently covered for the 
party. "That's some set. Never seen one like that," he said as he slipped 
onto a barstool. 

Anne sauntered behind the bar, a smug look on her face and clicked the set 
on then busied herself with finding a bottle. "Closed circuit TV. Some of 
the best programs ever televised have been seen on that set." 

The screen blinked then swelled to a glowing gray. "You mean it shows around 
the house?" 

"Not all over. Push that top button on the left," she said, not looking at 
him as she bent over in front of him, revealing her billowing breasts clear 
down to where he could see a black bra just cutting her pale pink nipples 
from view. 

He tore his eyes away and focused on the button and pushed it. Instantly, a 
room came on the screen; rather, a bed in a bedroom appeared. Bill instantly 
knew what the camera was for. He pushed another button and another bed 
appeared. Pushing a third button, still another bed appeared. 

Anne, straightening, a bottle in her hand, looked and said, "That's the 
master bedroom. That," she said, pulling the cork from the bottle, "Is where 
I sleep and play." 

The bed was king-size and covered with a royal purple bedspread. Vivid 
orange drapes covered the walls behind it. It looked to Bill like his idea 
of a high-class whorehouse, the kind of thing any guy would never dream 
existed. 

"Believe me," Anne said as she carefully poured a thick, faintly yellow 
liquid in two glasses, "What goes on, on that set gets rougher than the last 
quarter of the Superbowl and a hell of a lot more interesting." 

Bill tried to suppress a giggle. He was de lighted and excited by her 
flippant, irreverent way of talking. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at 
the glasses. 

"A little aphrodisiac." She smiled at him through her eyelashes. "I don't 
want you giving out when I'm just warming up." 

Bill looked at the bottle. It was plain and dark green, with no label. 
"Aphrodisiac? I thought that it was an old wive's tale. I never knew any 
existed." 

Anne raised her eyebrows and gave a little mocking laugh. "Oh, Baby, are you 
ever innocent. This is absinthe. It's made from wormwood and it's illegal 
now. They used to drink it in France around the time of Toulouse Lautrec. 
Believe me, it works." 

Bill watched as she poured a little water in each glass and the liquid 
turned from a clear pale yellow to a murky, swirling green. She handed him a 
glass and then gently clinked hers against his. "Here's to a long and 
interesting evening." 

Bill tasted the drink tentatively. It was a rich oily drink with a 
surprisingly mild taste. Following Anne's example, he tossed his head back 
and swallowed the smoky liquid. "That's pretty weak." 

One shoulder of her dress slipped down, revealing a soft bare shoulder and 
one breast, cupped snug and secure in her bra. "Just wait, don't be 
impatient," she said as she carefully measured out another drink. "In a 
little while you'll be making passes at the goldfish." 

Bill grinned at her audacity. With a secret tickling and swelling, he 
wondered if, later, while he was fucking her, he could get her to say 
obscene things. With a jerk of his head, he asked, "You don't really use 
that thing, do you?" 

"The set?" she asked, purring, putting her elbows on the bar and leaning 
forward, again giving him a breathtaking view of her breasts, snowy white, 
glowing with a soft pinkness, held so invitingly before him by her black 
bra. "Only when I'm bored or want to turn on. This switch down here will 
play any tape we put on it." 

"You mean you photograph what ... eh, what happens?" He looked at her 
half-thinking she was putting him on. 

"If it is interesting enough," she teased. 

"What for? I mean, why?" 

"Well, to get us in the mood. When a new member comes into the club, it gets 
wild and its always nice to go back over it later on." 

"Club?" Bill tried to feign nonchalance, yet his heart was beating hard and 
heavy. "What kind of club?" 

Anne rested her cheek on one hand and regarded him with a bemused look. 
"Don't tell me you don't know or haven't guessed?" 

"No, I haven't," he lied. He had really guessed, but didn't have the courage 
to say it. He had read about such clubs and had always wanted to believe in 
them yet he couldn't, figuring they were too good to be true, that they were 
just the work of somebody's imagination. Many nights he had lain in bed next 
to a sleeping Carol, his cock aching, and fantasized about such a club and 
both he and Carol were in it. He tried to imagine how he would feel and act. 
In his imagination, he enjoyed it, lusted with Carol watching, completely 
losing her dignity, and being fucked by other men. Now, the reality was 
something different. His lips and mouth were suddenly very dry and he licked 
them, looking away from the sensuous form draped over the bar so close to 
him. "No, honest," he lied, "What kind of club is it?" 

Anne smiled at him, her smile slowly broadening into a throaty laugh. "Well, 
you could call it a wife-swapping club. I call it a husband-swapping club. 
All in the way you look at it." 

Bill found himself stammering. His mind told him one thing and his body was 
beginning to tell him quite another. A rich, swelling warmth, a lewd liquid 
thing was seeping through his body and all kinds of sexual desires were 
swirling, darkly, through his loins. For the moment, his mind won out. "What 
kinda ... what are you ... I couldn't. My wife would never....I don't think 
I c ... c ... could ever...." his voice trailed off and he looked at her 
with a flat frightened expression. 

"Relax," Anne murmured. "Here, let's have another drink to set us up." She 
laughed and stood up, raising her glass. "Relax and drink. I'm honest with 
you and you're upset." 

Bill raised his glass automatically. "Chuck. Does he know?" 

Anne laughed and her face took on a sultry look. "This is a busman's holiday 
for me." 

"B ... but, are you going to ... ?" He couldn't finish the question. 

"Tell him? Honey, we have an arrangement. I don't tell him what I do and, in 
return, he doesn't tell me what he does when he's away." Anne stared down in 
her drink and mused, a hint of hardness coming over her face. "Pot calling 
the kettle black." 

"Wow. Excuse me. This is all too much to believe. Aren't you afraid you'll 
get caught? Aren't you afraid I'll tell?" 

She leaned toward him again, her breasts billowing, straining to break free. 
"Listen, we pick our members carefully and once they're in, once they've 
come to a party, they trust us. We just trust one another." She gave a hard 
laugh. "We have to, we've got so much on each other." 

She came slowly around the bar with Bill swiveling on the seat. She came up 
to him and put one of her legs between his and curled her hand around the 
back of his neck. "And you, you won't tell. You're dying to know more. 
Aren't you?" 

Her perfume was musky and dark, hinting of many nights in bed. His brows 
knitted together. "Yeah, but I could ... I just couldn't get in your club 
because of my wife. I just couldn't unless," and his heart skipped a beat, 
"unless you let just guys in, guys like me." 

Anne leaned away from him and thrust her breasts out and swung back and 
forth, teasing. "Maybe. Sure you want to join?" 

He passed a hand to his eyes. That damn absinthe was getting to him. Anyway, 
something was. What was he saying? What kind of people were they? What kind 
of a person was Chuck to let his wife behave in this way? Was this a setup? 
Was he being used for some purpose he couldn't understand? How could he ever 
look Carol in the face if she knew what he wanted to do? It would be 
impossible to ever get her to join such a thing. Yet, as his mind whirled 
with confused thoughts, he found himself staring at Anne Spanner's taunting 
figure and felt his cock swelling large and hard. To hell with it, he 
thought, I'll make sense of it later. He reached for her as she let her hand 
go from back of his head and stepped away. 

"Drink up," she said, "I'm going to change into something more comfortable 
and appropriate. Amuse yourself while I'm gone. This dial here," she said, 
turning to the console, "is for focus and zoom shots so you can zero in on 
any detail you want." With a wicked look over her shoulder, she undulated 
from the room. "I won't be gone long," she called back as she disappeared. 

Bill finished off the dregs of his drink and looked around him. God, he 
thought, what have I gotten into? These people don't make any sense! They 
think differently about things! 

Feeling insecure, he decided to have another drink. No more of the absinthe. 
He had heard bad things about it and didn't want anymore of it, aphrodisiac 
or no aphrodisiac. He slipped behind the bar and scanned the bottles. Johnny 
Walker Black Label. "That'll do," he muttered and poured himself a generous 
drink and dropped in a few ice cubes. He drank and choked on the strength of 
the drink, thinking, Bill, you'd better be sure of what you're doing. 

"What did you choke on?" Anne's disembodied voice asked. He whirled looking 
around the room for her. "A drink?" her voice asked. "I heard you mixing 
one. Don't drink too much, darling." Her voice had a slight metallic ring to 
it and Bill turned in the direction of her voice. It was coming from a 
chrome-meshed speaker built into the console. "Where are you?" he asked. 

"I told you, changing into something more comfortable. I'll only be a few 
more minutes." 

Instead of asking her where she was, a sly smile came over his face and he 
reached and pushed the number three button on the console. Instantly, the 
screen was filled with a picture of the bed in the master bedroom. Fiddling 
with the dial, he zoomed in and then back again. Turning another dial 
slightly, he saw another section of the room. Making the camera pan around, 
he caught and focused on Anne Spanner. 

"What are you doing?" her voice asked. 

"Just having a drink," he lied, smiling at her image. 

"There's a little toggle switch on the upper right hand side of the console. 
Turn it on and you'll have some music to help the mood along," Anne said, 
not looking at the camera, but rather looking at herself in a full-length 
mirror. 

Bill flicked the switch and some low, cool jazz came out of hidden speakers 
and he settled back on his bar stool and lit a cigarette, his eyes on the 
screen, watching the full image of Mrs. Spanner. He watched as she reached 
behind with one hand and unzipped her dress and it fell to the floor around 
her. He felt a slight jerk from his prick beneath his pants as her body came 
into view. She was moving slowly, allowing the effect to sink in; she was 
moving at a teasing pace because she knew he was watching. There were no 
lewd or obscene movements on her part and she behaved as though she were in 
her dressing room alone, unaware of his existence. He felt somehow like a 
peeping Tom looking into a window from a secret hiding place in the 
driveway. 

The lewd and illegal thought somehow made her performance all the more 
appealing to him. 

He felt another slight jerk and swelling under his pants, his cock hardening 
as she turned from the camera and bent over to pick up her dress from the 
floor. The full rounded melons of her buttocks came into tantalizing view on 
the screen. She couldn't have been more than three feet from the lens and it 
gave him a clear view of the narrow black nylon strip of her panties between 
her firm full thighs that tightened momentarily as she bent over. The 
panties slipped teasingly, slowly, into the crevice of her buttocks from the 
pressure and stretching of the position and then remained bunched and buried 
in the hollows as she straightened up again to take the dress to a hanger on 
the wall. He watched her, holding his breath, as she walked-really 
sauntered-across the room, the cheeks of her buttocks joggling slightly as 
she moved. It was a careful, designed, practiced walk that smacked of stage 
or dance training though imperceptible unless one knew she had once worked 
as a dancer. 

By this time, Bill was too far gone to think rationally. The absinthe and 
his own desire rose in him, like flood waters in storm drains. To hell with 
Carol, it was her own fault. And besides, this was too much. Anne Spanner 
was built. And ready. And so was he. This moment, this delicious lewd 
moment, was worth anything. 

He leaned forward, smoking fast, watching more intently as Anne removed a 
drape from one wall, revealing a full-length mirror. She turned back from 
the wall dressed now only in a bra, panties, and garter belt. The thin 
veneer of the stockings she wore shone silkily in the low light of the room 
and her black highheeled shoes set them off to good effect. It suddenly 
occurred to him that he'd like to take her, fuck her, like that with the 
stockings and high heels still on. He had never seen a woman like that and 
once, when he had tried to playfully pull Carol down on the bed while she 
was undressing, she had, in her best puritanical manner, pushed him away and 
ended her preparations for bed in the bathroom with the door closed and 
locked. 

Chasing Carol out of his mind with a mental back-of-the-hand, he pulled a 
handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the tiny beads of perspiration 
that were forming on his brow and upper lip. He quickly poured another drink 
from the bottle he had left standing on the bar and drained half of it 
before he realized he hadn't taken the time to add ice. He needed now. The 
erection in his pants had arisen to almost its full height. The tight 
restricting material of his shorts hurt and he pushed down, allowing it to 
slip out of one leg band into the greater looseness of his pants. He 
squeezed it, feeling its hardness and a lewd thrill, thick as honey, swept 
over his body. 

"Bill," he suddenly heard her voice, soft and right next to him, coming over 
the speaker. "Bring my drink." 

It unnerved him to have her speaking like that, knowing he was watching and 
listening. He had been too much with his own feelings and her image on the 
screen to expect a sudden sum mons. 

"Bill, baby, are you there?" she asked in a soft husky whisper. 

"Y-Yes," he stammered back at her or, rather, at the speaker. "I'm bringing 
it now." 

"Well, hurry, it's impolite to keep a lady waiting. Especially when the lady 
doesn't want to act like one." 

Hurriedly, splashing the liquor a little, he refilled his glass and then 
poured one for her. He switched off the TV and, with the drinks in hand, 
walked from the romper room. His courage was bolstered by the strangeness of 
the absinthe and he walked with a swagger, thinking, with a grin, he should 
go back, switch on the TV and ask directions. Yet, from their previous tour, 
he knew approximately where the master bedroom was. 

He found his bosses wife waiting at the door for him. She stared at him with 
a sultry look then slowly smiled as she took the drink. She was wearing a 
light nylon robe, bright green, that came to the tops of her thighs and it 
was obvious that she had shed the bra and panties while he was mixing and 
fetching the drinks. She had left the garter belt, sheer silk stockings and 
high heels on. The deep belt, sheer silk stockings and high heels on. The 
deep cleavage of her breasts showed without the restraint of a bra and the 
nipples of her soft breasts pressed against the frail material of her robe. 

"Mmmmmmmmmm," she grinned over the top of her glass she took from his hand. 
"You're learning quickly. Just the right amount." 

"I've been getting in a little practice," he said, raising his glass toward 
her. He suddenly found he wasn't nervous at all. He felt the beginning of a 
glowing power and self-confidence that he had never known or experienced 
before. He felt terrific, as if he had finally found the true strength 
within himself. Married to Carol, so many things and feelings had waned 
away. He was now in a position so many guys spent their entire life just 
dreaming about. 

If anyone had ever told him about such a woman as Anne Spanner and such a 
house that she lived in, he wouldn't have believed them. Had he been able to 
believe them, he would have envied them for the rest of his life. 

But Anne was real and it was him, Bill Murcer, in her house and he was 
feeling mighty good. A vague sense, a feeling of having been cheated, 
clouded his mind for the moment. Hell, he thought, all these years I've been 
buying the wrong story. This is the way to live! 

Anne lowered her eyes for a moment to the bulge at his crotch and grinned 
again, this time with a wicked edge of intimacy on her lips. 

"You like me," she said, mock serious, I don't know how I can tell." 

Bill laughed, following her into the room. "You must be very observant." 

"Can't help it," she shrugged, settling herself on the edge of the bed and 
leaning back on both her elbows. The softness of the robe rode up over her 
full and thrilling thighs, exposing the soft silky down of her mound of 
Venus at the base of her smooth white belly. She patted the bed beside her, 
indicating he should sit down. 

"Well," she said after he had settled himself comfortably. "Tell me 
something about yourself. I know so little about you." Again, she had that 
mocking look on her face. "Or your wife," she added. 

Bill was taken aback for a moment. What was there to say about himself? Or, 
Carol, for that matter? Their lives were pretty ordinary and, actually, 
dull. Before he could muster an answer, Anne tossed her head and said, "No, 
never mind, it doesn't matter. We can get to know each other gradually. How 
did you like the absinthe?" 

"It makes me a little more uninhibited. I'll say that for it." And, as if to 
prove his point, he reached over and let his fingertips trace little 
invisible designs on the whiteness of her stomach. 

Anne shivered for a moment. "Mmmmm, it makes you bolder, too. At first, I 
didn't know if you were going to walk out on me or make an alibi or what." 

Bill screwed up one eye. "Let's see. That was about two hundred and fifty 
light years ago, I think. Hey, whatever this stuff is, it sure does change 
perspectives." He felt his face flush as he drained his glass. "Can I get 
you another drink?" 

Anne pointed. "There's some there in that wall cabinet. Everything, 
including an ice making machine." 

He rose, taking her glass from her hand and glanced down at the thin 
hair-lined lips of her vagina clearly visible between her slightly parted 
legs. He found he did not blush this time and a pleased, crooked smile 
crossed over his face as she opened them a little more, a teasing grin on 
her face with just the tip of her red tongue caught between her teeth. He 
could see that she was excited with the first tiny dewdrops of moisture 
rising between her legs now faintly visible, glistening in the tight narrow 
slit as she exposed herself to him. He hurried even more than before with 
the drinks, the heat in his own body mounting and melding with the delicious 
lubriciousness of the absinthe. 

When he returned to the bed with the drinks, she had loosened the front of 
the robe and her large full mounded breasts were exposed, her pale pink 
nipples staring at him wetly. She had moistened and massaged them with 
saliva and the bud-like tips throbbed slightly from her touch. 

"Jesus, you're something else," he muttered, staring down at her nakedness 
with the drinks in his hands. He could see that her eyes had dialated 
slightly from the excitement she was feeling. It was all he could do to keep 
from throwing the drinks away and falling to his knees and locking his lips 
and mouth on the softness of her flesh at that very moment. But, with his 
new self an inner confidence, he held back. This was not the kind of woman 
you could simply fall on and bang away until you came. This wasn't the kind 
of woman you would want to do such a thing to. This was one you had to play 
with and the reward would far exceed the torture of waiting. 

"You know, don't you, that you're quite a handsome and sexy man," she said, 
reaching up for her drink. 

Bill knew he was good looking, but never knew he was considered handsome and 
sexy. He decided to say nothing but, "Thank you." 

"Have you had many women? Other than your wife, I mean?" She asked the 
question so casually, like, "Do you take sugar and cream with your coffee?" 

"Enough," he lied, his ego taking over. If she thought him handsome and 
sexy, he had to play the part. When in the service, he had had his share of 
whores. Without waiting, he leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. 

Gently, she pushed him away. "Here, put my drink down for me or pretty soon 
I'll be lying in a lake of booze and ice cubes." 

He took both the drinks and placed them on the floor by the bed quickly then 
leaned over her again, pressing his lips tightly down against hers. His 
boss's wife reached up, twining her arms around him and pulling him down on 
top of her. One of his legs fell heavily between her open thighs. She was 
surprisingly supple and soft and her body was glued to his as though she was 
part of him. She moved her thigh up against his crotch as he ground his lips 
harshly against hers, bringing his cock to a painful hardness. He could feel 
the wetness from the seminal fluid seeping from the gland on the hardening 
thick tip. It smeared against the leg inside his pants until he could feel 
her thigh wet from the material. She massaged him with a deft, practiced 
movement until he thought the head of his cock would explode. It was 
jerking, convulsively, as though he would cum at any second and he pulled 
his mouth free from hers and put his head by her cheek, gritting his teeth 
and willing the orgasm back. He clung to her while she kept up her incessant 
massaging and he thought, guiltily, of Carol and the shock to her if she 
could see him on top of a nearly naked Anne Spanner, his bosses wife. She 
would never, ever, be able to understand or forgive him. 

"Is your wife good in bed?" Anne whispered in his ear, as if she were 
reading his thoughts. 

"She's too inexperienced," he whispered without the slightest hesitation or 
shock. Jesus, he thought, I've changed, I've changed completely ! 

Anne's body writhed slowly and restlessly and she forced his mouth around to 
hers. "I'll teach you some things you can take home and try out on her," she 
whispered, the whisper sounding like a promise. Slowly, their lips met and 
she buried her tongue in his mouth. Her tongue slowly retreated making way 
for his own while her teeth nibbled at his tongue, sending little shivers up 
and down his spine. She pulled away once more to breathe heavily in his ear. 
"Let's get naked." And with that, she ran her wet tongue in his ear and he 
shuddered as he pulled himself to his feet. He stood for a second, dazed by 
the absinthe, the other drinks, her lewd beauty and his own passion. 

"You want to fuck me, don't you?" she whispered, looking up at him with 
fogged-over eyes. 

"Jesus, do I want to," he answered, the lewd words coming from her mouth 
exciting him more. 

"Then tell me. Say it!" 

"I want to fuck you." The words spat out. He had never said that to a woman 
before and the words seemed to excite her even more as she writhed on the 
bed and moaned. 

"How?" 

"Deep, deep down and hard. I want to fuck you like you've never been fucked 
before." 

"Oh, God," she said, her hips grinding down in the bed while her hands 
convulsively bunched the covers. "Get those clothes off before I die!" 

He began desperately stripping his clothes from his body and flinging them 
away. He didn't care about anything at the moment, nor did he feel any 
embarrassment when he finally stood naked in front of her, his cock sticking 
out in front of him. He watched as she lifted her body slightly and pulled 
off the robe and kicked her high heels off so that they fell, with twin 
thuds, on the floor below. Then she was lying on the bed in nothing but her 
garter belt and stockings with her eyes riveted on his prick standing out in 
the air. With a teasing grin, she watched the throbbing of the blood-filled 
head for a second, and said, "I love it. It's going to feel good sliding up 
inside of me and feeling your strength while you do anything you want to me. 
I want to feel that twisting around deep in my cunt. Oh God, I want to feel 
you fucking me with that!" She closed her eyes and shuddered. Despite 
herself, she felt the thrill of being naked and passionate before a virile 
young man. She loved to be dominated. Chuck dominated her like no other man, 
humiliating her and hurting her until the pain and humiliation turned to 
pleasure and she felt as if she were in paradise. Chuck had arranged this 
whole evening, had ordered her to seduce Bill Murcer and had even, down to 
details, instructed her what to do. And she was obeying them to the letter, 
knowing that Chuck was somewhere in the house, taping every word and action. 
He had not instructed her to be masochistic, but she couldn't help it. Not 
since the night, a year ago, in the romper room when Chuck and five of his 
male friends had made her strip and they gangbanged her. They were ruthless 
and demanding, humiliating her while her husband watched and approved. She 
had loved it! It had been the beginning of a new life for her. 

Now, she writhed on the bed. "Come on, fuck me, stick that thing in me!" she 
begged. 

He lay down on the bed beside her dragging her to him. He moved one hand 
down and felt her place her buttocks over it. He cupped them, feeling their 
smoothness. They were beautifully shaped and sinewy as he had expected them 
to be. Her body was warm and soft against him and she raised her face to 
his, locking her mouth tightly over his as her hand searched expertly down 
between them for the hardness of his cock. He gasped when her little fingers 
grasped his penis and gently squeezed it then slowly rolled the skin back so 
the head could slowly bulge and mushroom out. Her odor: her perfume mixed 
with her sexual heat maddened him. Her lips were soft and giving and rubbery 
and she crushed the full length of her body against his and ground her 
pelvis tightly into him before suddenly, with nostrils flaring and eyes half 
closed, twisting her body and pulling him at the same time on top of her. 
With a liquid slowness, she opened her legs wide to take him between them. 

Chuck Spanner sat at the bar in the romper room, sipping at a scotch, 
smiling at the TV screen. Still smiling, he rubbed his chin with his hand. 
"Waytogo," he silently said then leaned forward to check and see if the 
taping was going smoothly. He had sat in his den, listening over the 
intercom from the moment Bill had entered. Once he was sure they were in the 
master bedroom, he had slipped down to the romper room and started the 
tapes-visual and audial, going. Now, he sat back with arms folded and 
watched his wife with Bill Murcer. 

Anne crushed Bill tight to her and ran her hands searchingly all over his 
body, exploring eagerly all the secret hollows of him. Sensuously, boldly, 
her fingers and hands felt the hardness of his buttocks and traced their way 
down the crack that joined his cheeks together and, as she did so, the hair 
on the back of his neck prickled in a delightful way and his whole body 
shuddered. His cock was throbbing hard against her thighs and pressed into 
the narrow hair-lined slit of her softly pulsating cunt. She arched her back 
for a moment, levering them both up off the bed in a tawny, taut, movement 
and, reaching under with her hands, she cupped her twin buttocks then worked 
her hands forward and up until she pulled her vaginal lips slowly apart, 
allowing his prick greater contact with the wet, sensitive inner flesh of 
her cunt. His prick lay the full length of the hot, moist, gently throbbing 
slit. She relaxed, dropping back on the bed, his ramrod cock trapped tightly 
between her firm thighs. 

With a deft, wonderfully coordinated use of her muscles, the lips of her 
vagina expanded and contracted, half covering one side of his cock. She 
smiled lewdly as she felt his cock swell to a skin-stretching size and a 
soft moan burst from his lips. He forced his hands between her shoulders and 
the mattress and ran them down the soft curves of her back and hips. He 
could feel the raised ridges of her spine moving in an almost imperceptible 
cat-like movement as she undulated her body up against him in a slow teasing 
rhythm. The sinews of her muscles rippled lightly just under her white skin 
indicating a powerful strength hidden by her feminine wiles and ways. The 
tensile-strength of the cords of thighs pressed against the outside of his 
hips. He wondered how they would feel, gripped around him later when he had 
sunk his blunt hardness deep into her. 

"Oh God, this is good," she whispered, writhing the flatness of her warm 
stomach up against him. Her nails trailed slowly across his back, leaving 
red railroad tracks and she moaned and then hummed lowly to herself as he 
pushed his hands further down beneath her, using his strength, cupping the 
fullness of her buttocks in the palms of his hands and pulled her open 
crotch up tighter against his cock. He moved her buttocks up and down 
slowly, insinuating the hardness of his full erection up and down the length 
of the slit, sensing it growing hotter and wetter with each lubricated 
stroke and passing second. Her hips began a more desperate rotation up 
against his loins until her legs, with no warning, slid out wide on either 
side of her body, her ankles crossing, her calves locking against the back 
of his thighs, pulling him down tighter into her. 

"Oh, God. Fuck me. Fuck me now, darling, fuck me now!" she moaned into his 
mouth, her eyes clenched tightly shut, her pelvis grinding, her arms holding 
him tight so that he crushed her breasts. 

He started to move but she beat him to it. Her hands came down between their 
legs and clutched his throbbing cock, guiding it between the lips of her hot 
desire-drenched cunt. Bill groaned into her mouth as he felt her moving it 
up and down between her legs, parting the soft silky hair of her vagina with 
the hammering, blood-filled head. She grazed it teasingly against her cunt, 
forcing it into a final, greater hardness until it ached from the 
excruciating pressure. 

He couldn't hold back another second. It was as if he had suddenly lost all 
control and, in a wild sense of abandonment, had gained complete control of 
himself and the situation. He flicked his hips forward before he could 
think, giving in to instinct, and plunged his hard ram pant cock into the 
gaping hot mouth of her waiting pussy. 

"Oooooooohhhhhhh!" she moaned beneath him as he felt the hot, moist, 
elastic-like sheath slip wetly over his sensitive naked flesh. It had 
entered plowing, mushrooming its way and she held her vaginal muscles tight 
as he drove deeper, only gradually relaxing them. His long thin cock raced 
up her cunt to the full depths of her belly, warm and tight at first, aching 
the full length of his rigid shaft and then, lewdly, liquidly, easier as the 
wetness of the passage surrounded his cock, oiling the way. He plunged until 
his rod was sunk as far as it would go, his balls slapping with a lewd, 
smacking sound, against the firm cheeks of her buttocks. 

Anne Spanner gave out a low animal-like moan beneath him, twisting 
instinctively to escape the sudden unexpected pain. Bill gritted his teeth 
and thrust harder, screwing his pelvis tighter into her loins so that there 
was no escape for her. He had her pinned down to the mattress good and he 
lay for a moment, feeling her shudder of joy at the hopelessness of her 
predicament pass through her body and finding herself savagely grinning at 
the knowledge that he could hurt her so easily. He had gained the upper hand 
for the first time because he knew he could hurt her and she couldn't hurt 
him back. Moreover, he knew she wanted to be hurt, that he could drive her 
to wild paroxysms of pain and ultimate searing pleasure. He reveled for 
another moment in the power he possessed over another man's wife impaled 
beneath him and flicked his hips again bringing another low half-moan, 
half-wail from between her clenched teeth. 

W a y t o g o, Chuck Spanner thought as he turned up the sound level on the 
console as he sat watching romper room. This Murcer kid is good, he told 
himself, grimacing at a twinge of jealousy as he saw how much his wife was 
enjoying her task. He set his jaw and grinned coldly. If Anne didn't suspect 
it already, she was in for a surprise when that kid got through with her. 
He'd have her babbling later tonight. 

He sat back with his chin in his hand, watching, getting horny, sipping his 
drink, contenting himself with what he would do to his young employee's 
proud little wife when his turn came. His grin took on a wolfish mask as he 
quietly whispered, "Have your fun now boy, because you're going to watch me 
fuck the shit out of your wife while I show you how it's really done." 

Bill ground his pelvis into the squirming flaccid flesh under him as she 
strained back, arching her loins up at him, lifting them both a few scant 
inches off the mattress with all the strength of her body. She was moaning 
continually beneath his pounding body, opening and closing her legs around 
him in a convulsive, heated manner as she worked her way up and down in an 
atavistic rhythm of fornication as old as time itself. She was caught in the 
pulse of life, her mouth agape, her head flailing from side to side in wild 
abandon. 

"Ohhhh God, I love it! Take me! Take me, shove your finger up my ass! Make 
me scream, damn it, make me scream and beg!" she spat at him, a dazed look 
on her face. 

He reached under her between her buttocks as he drove his cock brutally and 
rhythmically into the wetness of her willing cunt. His lips twisting in a 
cruel smile, he stretched the crevice of her buttocks wide, searching, with 
the tip of his finger, for her anus. 

And found it! 

A small rivulet of juice had flowed down the widespread slit from where he, 
with the tips of his fingers, could feel his hard, barlike cock fucking 
hotly into her. It moistened the tight puckered little hole, lubricating it 
slightly and he probed experimentally for a moment with the tip of his 
finger. He had never done such a thing before and the lewdness of it 
exciting him, causing him to deepen and increase his tempo with her added 
wails telling him he was having the right effect. He pushed hard, feeling it 
give a little in an elastic way and then, then suddenly the tight rubbery 
nether ring gave way completely and his finger slid in up to the first 
knuckle joint. She jumped forward, almost crawling and squirming on her back 
to escape the first shooting pain. 

"Aaaaaaaggggghhhhh! Oh, my God, it hurts!" 

Grinning, he thrust again, sinking it in to the second knuckle joint. 

"Ooooohhh, yes! Yes! Yessss, yessss! Hurt me! Hurt me more!" 

In spite of the intense pain, he felt her suddenly begin screwing her 
buttocks back on his finger until it was sunk to the third knuckle joint and 
the palm of his hand was pressed flat against her firm, grinding buttocks. 
He bent and jiggled it inside, rotating it around in the fleshy depths of 
her rectum. With a lewd thrill, he could feel through the thin wall of flesh 
separating her two passages and sense the underside of his cock gliding in 
and out of her cunt and he began sawing the finger in and out, maintaining 
the same rhythm as his cock as his boss's wife groaned hotly under him. His 
nail caught the flesh of her rectum momentarily, scraping her and she jerked 
and her face twisted and she fought to get back into the rhythm again, her 
hips undulating and pumping, opening her legs wider still to give him even 
greater excess to the ravishment and enjoyment of her loins. 

Bill, pretended for a moment that it was his own wife's rectum he had his 
finger buried in and could feel his cock expanding until he felt the head 
was going to explode, burst, from the exquisite pleasure building up in his 
testicles as they slapped heavily and rhythmically against Anne Spanner's 
crazily grinding buttocks. She had to cum soon, he told himself. It couldn't 
be much longer and, in his new found self, he knew he could suffer the 
denial of his own pleasure longer than she could. He almost chortled with 
his new found strength but instead, he snarled and rammed his cock into her 
with long hard strokes in time with his finger worming in and out of the 
tight rubbery flesh of her anus. 

He could tell she was nearing her climax as she gripped him tight between 
her trembling thighs, opening and closing them in time to his long hard 
battering-ram strokes deep into her hotly clasping pussy. She gurgled 
beneath him, the sound coming from deep down in her. Her eyes were rolling 
back in her head as though she had no control over them and her face was 
contorted like a sprinter straining for the tape. 

"Ooooohhhh, fuck it, fuck me all over, fuck me harder, harder, hurt me! 
Hurttttt meeeee!" she chanted, panting, mumbling all the obscene words that 
came to her mind and spurring him on with the pounding of her heels high on 
his back. She had jackknifed her legs up tight, pressing her knees back hard 
into her breasts and offering him the full opening of her upraised. "Fuck, 
cunt, prick, suck, fuck!" she chanted in a breathy, excited voice. 

"I'm cumming," she coughed suddenly, her mouth slack and gaping wide in 
ecstatic abandon, her eyes showing white. "I'm cumm ... I'm cumm ... 
mmmmmming!" And then her lips were working frantically as she silently 
mouthed sentences that didn't make any sense even to her. She pulled back 
her thighs tighter until the whole of her pink, wide-stretched vaginal slit 
was held up and presented to him to batter and use as he willed. Her ankles 
were locked behind him high on his back and she urged him on to even wilder 
thrusts as her hands were thrown wild and her fists tried to crush the 
sheets in convulsive grasps. 

Now this is going a little too far, Chuck told himself. Then, he gave a 
little hard laugh, thinking, I'm the director of this little drama and I'm 
complaining because the actors are enjoying their roles. God, she's a hot 
fuck, he told himself as his mouth opened in admiration and lust. 

A low scream, a keening, a wail, a primeval urging vocalized it and Anne 
felt the sound then heard it mixing with the brutal sweating, panting, 
bucking and rhythm of their thrusts and her nostrils flared wide as the 
veins in her neck stood out and, with a superhuman effort, her loins jerked 
spasmodically against his belly and her vision blurred and all was going 
black from the sheer bliss of her searing pleasure. Her voice swooped low 
and dark as she bellowed, "Ooooooh God ... I'm cuuuuummmming!" 

She was pinioned in time and place for a split second then she collapsed 
under him, going limp as her bones suddenly felt like warm butter. She lay 
still, except for the uncontrollable quivering and contractions of her cunt 
still tightly locked around his tortured prick. Sullenly, brutally, he 
pushed deep into her and lay quiet for a moment, allowing her to rest. 

It was all he could do to keep from bellowing and fucking her into madness. 
God, he had never seen anything like this in his whole life. He had never 
felt anything like it either. He knew he could never be satisfied with Carol 
again. Not that he ever was. Sex with her was something she let him do to 
her while she lay quiet and tense. No more of that for him. He didn't know 
what he would do, but he would do something. 

Looking down at her blissful face framed by her wild red hair, he throbbed 
the muscles of his prick deep in her belly, hoping to arouse her again. 

"Oh, that was nice," she slurred, "I haven't had a ride like that in a long 
time." 

"Way to go," he said with heavy irony, enjoying the idea of mocking her 
husband. 

In the romper room, Chuck nodded at the set and said, "Oh, you'll pay for 
that one, Murcer." 

"You're not finished yet," Bill said, looking in her blue unfocused eyes, a 
hot hard aching throbbing deep down in his balls. 

"God, you're good!" she said in true admiration. 

"Yeah, but now I want you to be good!" he panted. 

She purred and put her arms around him. "Wanna cum?" 

"Yeah, I'm almost there," he grunted. 

"Get off. Roll over." She smiled up at him in a sweet way. "I'm going to 
give you a reward for being so good and patient." 

He pulled back, sliding his hard cock wetly out of the soft warmth of her 
satiated cunt. He loathed pulling it out, wanting, instead, to stay on top 
of her and fuck her and shoot his waiting sperm deep up in her flat little 
belly. Instead, wanting to learn and experience more, wanting to please her, 
for now he saw her as a regular thing, a good lay whenever his boss was out 
of town or she could get away. Maybe, if he played it cool, he could get 
into their wife swapping club without Carol and fuck his head off whenever 
he liked. This, he told himself, was the only way to live, fucking his 
bosses wife and having her love it. Too long he had felt worthless, too long 
he had felt the lack of an identity. Now, he was somebody. He could satisfy 
an experienced woman who knew how to fuck. There was no end to the 
possibilities his life could offer if he only had the guts and sense to 
seize it. 

He rolled off her slowly, falling onto his back, thin sticky trails of her 
pussy juices following his cock across her lower thigh. He lay tense, gazing 
up, noticing for the first time that the ceiling was mirrored and he could 
see both of them reflected in it and he followed her movements expectantly 
without having to raise or move his head. 

She turned on her side toward him and, reaching out, she began stroking his 
cock with her hand, sliding the loose flesh up and down in a slow magical 
rhythm that caused his ache to increase almost beyond belief and endurance. 
Then, as he watched with half closed eyes, she got to her knees and hovered 
over him on all fours, her face a scant few inches from the pounding moist 
head of his prick. She held it tightly between her hands, stroking it 
between the flat of her palms in a teasing up and down motion that caused 
his loins to undulate in time to her insane rhythm. He moaned and rolled her 
head back and forth, anticipating, hoping that she would do what he thought 
she wanted to do. 

Her head dropped slowly toward his hard cock held up by her hands and 
suddenly her tongue flicked forward, the tip boring teasingly into the 
wetness of the tiny gland on the end. He lost his breath from the sudden 
thrill and chills ran up and down his spine bringing a long groan from his 
twisted lips. Pursing her lips, she brought her mouth down all the way, 
enclosing the whole of his sensitive head in a moist warm pressure. Her lips 
tightened like an elastic band around the shaft just below the head, 
trapping it completely inside the warm wet cavern of her mouth. 

"Jesus Christ!" he groaned, lifting his head from the bed and staring 
feverishly down at her contorted face. The sight of his hard shaft of 
rampant flesh sunk halfway into her honey sweet, roundly ovaled mouth 
increased his pleasure a thousandfold. It was just like in the movie. Only 
better, it was happening to him. His shaft was still wet from her orgasm and 
it glittered and glistened like some primeval stump and he gaped as he 
watched her lips working their way down the slippery shaft, taking more of 
his cock into her saliva filled mouth. She massaged the soft resilient skin 
of his testicles gently with one hand and stroked the base of his cock 
between the thumb and forefinger of the other as she began to suck 
rhythmically up and down. He could feel the wet softness of her tongue 
twirling slowly, maddeningly, around the head of his cock. As she withdrew 
her mouth with each sensuous stroke, the tip of her tongue unerringly 
flicked across the tiny opening of the gland on the end. He flexed his 
buttocks, his head still raised, watching her red hair cascading down to 
hide part of her face as her head bobbed up and down. The sight of her 
sucking him made it all the sweeter and more exciting for him. 

Anne could feel his throbbing, pulsating reaction and began to suck his cock 
a little harder, the tips of her teeth digging gently into the hard 
resisting flesh, leaving small white trails where they had scraped the blood 
from beneath the surface of the skin. She shifted her position over his 
thigh without taking her mouth from his prick or breaking the tempo of her 
head bobbing and kneeled on all fours between his open legs. She reached 
under his buttocks and cupped them in her palms, pulling his loins up 
tighter to her face. Her tongue swiped and whipped around the growing gland 
furiously until Bill felt it near the bursting point as she took almost all 
of his tortured shaft deep into her throat and somehow continued to suck on 
and on. 

Great billowing swirls of heat were building up deep in his balls as he 
watched her face working above his sweating, rolling loins. He could see 
beads of sweat on her face that formed tiny rivulets and snaked down her 
face and down the sides of her body as she bucked and bobbed over him like a 
harpy gone mad, greedily devouring him. The muscles of his stomach tightened 
until he thought he would break under the pressure as he arched his back up 
off the bed pushing even deeper into her throat and he watched, hypnotized 
as thin pink ridges of flesh pulled out from her mouth, clinging greedily to 
his withdrawing cock. Then he watched with a madness mounting in him as he 
thrust home, deep, again and saw her lips grow white and thin as he rolled 
them inward by the savageness of each thrust. 

He groaned over and over again, muttering between clenched teeth. Then, the 
moment was here and a low guttural sound started somewhere deep in his chest 
as he felt the hot sticky sperm begin its mad rush from the sanctity of his 
constricting testicles and roar, ballooning, up his bulging shaft and begin 
spurting and spewing in hot thin streams into her hungrily sucking mouth. He 
watched as her cheeks began expanding and hollowing fish-like as she 
greedily swallowed the warm flooding gushes to keep from choking. She went 
on sucking wildly, desperately, as he emptied his white-hot sperm, pumping, 
into the wetness of her mouth. 

His hands tangled in her hair and brutally pushed her head down onto his 
throbbing prick as he tried to thrust it past her tonsils. She fought to 
regain her breath, breathing hard through her excitedly flaring nostrils 
while still sucking hard on his still cumming cock. He moaned at last and 
let his head fall back and his hands fall limp at his side, completely 
satisfied. Slowly, his cock deflated in her mouth but she continued her 
frenzied, gently, wet sucking, drawing every last tiny drop of the warm 
sticky semen from his battered and flaccid prick. 

And then, there was nothing left to suck. 

She had sucked him dry and he lay quiet while she rested her head on his 
thigh, his cock still in her mouth, nibbling gently on it. Then, opening her 
mouth, she let the deflated cock slide out and she crawled up over his body 
and cradled his head against her still heaving breasts. She bent down and 
kissed him on the lips and cocked her head, smiling and asking, "Like?" 

All he could muster was a happy groan. 

She moved up his body and brushed the nipple of one breast gently over his 
lips, her loins slipping on top of him, her legs wide and he could feel the 
wetness of her cunt and pubic hair on his stomach. "I know a lot more," she 
murmured. 

"Oh, wow, there can't be more," he groaned. 

"You can find out on Friday," she said softly. 

He pulled her down and grinned up at her. "Think we can get together then?" 

"Sure," she said matter-of-factly, "We're having a party then." 

"Huh?" 

"Huh!" she mocked back. "We're having a party. Want to come?" 

"One of those swapping parties?" 

"Yes," she smiled, snuggling closer. "And a nice one. Only the best of 
friends will be there." 

His face clouded. "I don't know if I can get out that night. My wife, you 
know." 

"Bring her." 

"What!?" 

"Bring her, she might enjoy it." 

"Are you crazy?" he asked, pushing her away and getting up on his elbows and 
looking around for his drink. "She would go out of her mind and divorce me 
and call the cops." He thought for a moment. "Besides, she's my wife," he 
found himself saying, surprised at himself. It was true, he wouldn't want 
any wife of his acting like Anne Spanner just had. 

"That's selfish. It's also an insult. It's all right for me to do it and you 
to do what you want to me, but it's not all right for somebody else to enjoy 
her. Is that it?" 

There was an edge to her voice and Bill sensed he was on the verge of 
ruining a good thing. That power, that sureness he had felt while fucking 
her, was gone. He was unsure and, unreasonably, resentful. "It's different." 

"It isn't." 

"It is." 

Anne wiggled close to him, her body warm and soft and she spoke softly in 
his ear. "You like what we did?" 

He nodded, looking at their reflection in the mirror on the ceiling and saw 
her grinning lewdly. "You like some more?" 

Again he nodded. 

"Some different things?" 

"Like what?" he asked with just a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

"Like," and her voice was soft and insinuating, "like two women at the same 
time." 

Bill swallowed hard and felt a swelling of his battered and painful cock. 
"Two women?" 

"Me and another girl I know that likes that kind of thing." 

"Oh, my God. Are you kidding me?" 

Teasingly, she traced a finger over his lips. "No, I'm dead serious. You'd 
love it and we'd do whatever you wanted." 

"Anything?" 

Her voice dropped to a lewd whisper. "Anything." 

Bill felt his cock swelling and she wiggled her stomach against the swelling 
and added, "Anything and a few things you haven't thought of yet." 

"Who is it, who's the other woman?" Bill asked, trying to keep his voice 
from trembling. He was hooked and knew it. More than anything he had ever 
imagined or thought, he wanted to get in bed with Anne and another woman and 
fuck them both. His mind reeled with the possibilities. He could command 
them to make love to each other and watch as they did it. All his life, the 
thought of two women, naked, making love to each other, licking one another 
into a frenzy, until they were wild and he could fuck them, had driven him 
mad. It was such an exciting idea to him, he tried not to think of it when 
alone. If he thought of it, he had to go to the bathroom and masturbate 
several times before the mad urging desire waned. 

Anne cooed in his ear. "You met her, Muriel. Muriel Abrams." 

"What? Her?" Wild scenes ran through his mind. 

"Mmmmm. Muriel goes both ways. Likes to. She's always making passes and 
propositions to me. Muriel is really going the lesbian route." 

Bill looked at her with a dazed expression. "And how do you feel about it?" 

She giggled and curled her shoulders. "I kinda like it. Do you?" 

All he could do was nod. His cock was painfully swelling again. "Then you'll 
do it?" he asked incredulously. 

"Haven't I been suggesting it?" 

"Okay, it's a date," he said. "Friday night." 

"Friday night. And there's a price." 

"Huh? What?" he asked suspiciously. 

"You bring your wife." 

"No," he said firmly. 

"Why not?" she asked, her eyes wide in mock innocence. "Have you ever 
thought about it? Have you ever imagined what it would be like, watching 
your wife getting fucked by another man, seeing her face all passionate and 
fucking back against him. Ever think about it. Think." 

She lay on top of him as he remained silent. Slowly, a low hoarse chuckle 
from her throat and she wiggled the soft curls of her pubic hair against his 
now rigid cock. "You just answered me. Think about it. Think about it all 
week. First time I saw Chuck fuck another woman, I went wild. God, we fucked 
the whole night away after that I" 

"It's insane. You're insane," he said, staring at her. 

She made an inexpert fist and playfully, lightly, tapped him on the arm. "If 
you haven't tried it, don't knock it." 

"I could never get Carol to come to a thing like that." 

"I could." 

"What?" 

She wiggled her hips provocatively, rubbing against his now fully erect 
penis. God, he thought, this can't be happening to me! 

"I could get her here. If you want to, let me know. I know the idea turns 
you on," she said, grinding her pelvis down in a slow lewd way that only 
teased and excited him all the more. 

"I can feel," she whispered in his ear. 

"I think you're nuts," Bill managed to say before their lips and mouths 
locked together and he gave into his desire, his lust, with that great wild 
abandon again. 

 CHAPTER 6 

When Bill left the Spanner house that night; Chuck Spanner safely in his den 
with two reels of tapes, he staggered to his car and simply sat in it, 
feeling oddly safe in a dark, parked, car. His mind was reeling and he shook 
his head and rubbed his eyes several times. If this was one of those dreams 
that is so real while it's happening, let me wake up and experience the 
shock and then laugh with relief, he told himself, slowly banging on the 
steering wheel with his fists. 

He sat still as a car went by then he slowly and carefully lit a cigarette. 
The car and the cigarette were real and he wasn't having a wild dream, it 
all was and had happened to him. He started the car and drove toward home. 
When he neared the apartment they lived in, he suddenly veered off. A nice 
long drive was what he needed and the time to think. Perhaps a beer in some 
roadside bar. He couldn't go home like this, he couldn't face Carol with all 
kinds of sick thoughts crawling through his mind. He had to think some 
things out, had to understand some things about himself. First, what kind of 
person was he really? Before tonight, he would have sworn he was one kind of 
human being. Now he wasn't so sure. And he had to think of Carol and what he 
really felt for her. And the Spanners. 

He groaned aloud as he drove, swerving slightly, as he thought of Mrs. Chuck 
Spanner. Anne. She seemed insane, unreal. And yet, she was very real. She 
was at least, doing what she believed in and what she believed in sent 
pleasant chills up and down his spine and his ravaged and sore cock swelled 
once more as he reviewed details of the night in his mind. 

On the freeway, he headed out of town. He didn't know or care where he was 
going. What he was looking for was a place sufficiently far enough away in 
geography and atmosphere where he could sit and calmly put things into 
perspective. 

He drove for long miles, the traffic thinning until the beams of his 
headlights were lonely twin cones stabbing ahead in the dark night. Far 
away, the horizon glowed. He drove toward it, expressionless, until he could 
see dots of red and blue that gradually swelled to be neon signs. A truck 
stop, complete with garage, diner, and a bar. 

He headed for the bar and was relieved when he stepped inside and saw it was 
nearly deserted and an old-time narrow bar with stools, a few tables, and no 
booths. It was a plain blue-collar bar, the kind of place where men went and 
stood at the bar rather than sit and drank boilermakers and talked of women 
and ball games and left a stranger alone. 

Only two people were in the bar; the bartender who had an apron wrapped 
around his pot belly and slicked a few black hairs across his shiny bald 
pate and an old-timer sitting at one end of the bar staring off into space, 
a lighted cigarette held forgotten near his lips, some change and an 
untouched beer, going flat, on the bar in front of him. 

Bill nodded to the bartender and slid onto a stool with a sigh of relief. 
This was just the sort of spot he was looking for. He ordered a beer, 
grunted at the bartender's half-hearted attempts to make conversation, put a 
dollar on the bar and stared off into space. The bartender made change and 
wandered down the bar to reread the sports page of the local paper. 

He sat, thinking and sipping at his beer until the old-timer slid off his 
stool and shuffled out the door. He sat, ordering more beers and sipping at 
them until the bartender waddled down to him and said, "Last call." 

"You closing?" he asked, looking at the clock and wondering where all the 
time had gone. 

"Couple a minutes." 

Bill scooped his change up off the bar, spun a quarter down and hurried out 
the door. He veered out onto the highway and headed for home, speeding, 
anxiety making his foot heavy on the throttle. He hadn't meant to be so late 
and he hadn't solved a thing; his mind was still in a state of confusion 
with conflicting emotions tearing at him. 

He let himself into the apartment as quietly as possible and found Carol 
half asleep, sitting up in a chair an empty coffee cup beside her with an 
ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. Although her eyes were heavy with 
sleep, there was no mistaking her look. "Where were you?" 

"I told you, working," he lied, walking to her and bending to give her a 
kiss on the cheek. 

"You weren't," she said, pulling away. 

"Aw, come on, I'm beat." 

"I bet." 

"I'm sorry. I just got so involved with work I didn't realize the time. If I 
had, I would have called you." 

Carol rubbed her face and straightened her legs that had been curled under 
her, her housecoat slipping as she did, revealing her snow white shapely leg 
and part of her thigh. "Bill, I'm going to ask you one more time. Where were 
you?" 

"I told you. Working," he answered, his voice raising in fake indignation. 

Carol looked at him coldly. When it came to cold looks, Carol was in a class 
all by herself. 

"I called." She said it flatly. 

"The switchboard is closed at night," he said, thinking fast. 

"I got a janitor. He was cleaning up and said the place was dark, that there 
hadn't been anyone there all night." With that, she got up and walked to the 
bedroom door, pausing then turning to glare at him. "You shouldn't have 
tried to kiss me. That really convinced me. Your breath reeks of booze." 

Mentally, he kicked himself for being so stupid. Confused as he was, he 
hadn't given it a second thought. It was so late and he had felt sure she 
would be asleep by the time he got home. In his confused and guilty state, 
perhaps he had wished for her to be asleep so hard, that he had convinced 
himself. He shrugged and flapped his arms. "So I stopped off and had a few. 
That's a crime? I was tired." 

She looked at him, fighting back tears. "So this is the way it's going to 
be." 

"What? What are you talking about?" he yelled. 

Her hand on the doorknob, Carol pulled herself together and answered calmly. 
"Kindly keep your voice down. If you don't have any respect for me, kindly 
have a little respect for your neighbors. It is very late." 

"Carol ? " he asked, his voice betraying his inner confusion. It was almost 
a whine, yet there was something else. He couldn't help letting his eye 
wander over her body. Jesus, he thought, she has some body. 

She looked at him then turned away, hurt, contemptuous, and walked into the 
bedroom with Bill dragging his feet behind her. She didn't speak or look at 
him as he went to the bathroom and belatedly brushed his teeth and rinsed 
his mouth. In the mirror, through the open door, he saw her by the bed, 
taking off her robe. He caught his breath as he watched, clad only in a 
transparent nightie that ended at her thighs. She was standing with her back 
to him and her magnificently rounded buttocks made his cock give a jerk as 
she moved, her firm cheeks shifting slow and tantalizing. He saw her firm, 
perfectly rounded young breasts under the nightie as she shifted and got 
into bed. Large, ripe, like melons at harvest time, he longed to get in bed 
with her and suck on those beautiful nipples. 

Coming to his side of the bed, he undressed, his back to her, hiding his 
penis which felt so tender and sore yet was swelling as he thought of her 
body. Damn it, he thought, if only she wasn't such a cold bitch, none of 
this would have happened. 

Hurriedly, he got into his pajamas and under the covers. He looked at his 
wife out of the corner of his eye. She was lying still, her eyes closed. 
From her breathing, he knew she wasn't asleep. "Carol?" he called softly. 

"Go to sleep. I don't want to talk to you," she whispered vehemently. 

He heaved a heavy sigh. If only she had answered softly, if only there had 
been a note of tolerance in her voice, he would have told her the whole 
truth. Everything. He would have sat up in bed and blurted out everything 
and asked her to forgive him. Because of her coldness, the moment was past 
and forever gone. He shut his eyes and willed sleep and, because of all he 
had gone through, sleep came relatively easy. He fell asleep in a vengeful 
mood. I'm not all bad, he told himself, some of this is her fault too. If 
she wasn't so damn cold and it's not my fault I'm hot blooded. It serves her 
right. 

He fell into a deep dreamless sleep and struggled to wake up the next 
morning and get to work. 

 CHAPTER 7 

The next morning, Bill parked in the employees parking lot and walked to his 
desk preoccupied and frowning. Something wasn't right. Something was mighty 
wrong. Somewhere, somehow, he was overlooking something. He felt like a man 
who had only one piece missing from a jigsaw puzzle and he was on his hands 
and knees, annoyed, searching for it. 

The missing piece was too obvious for him to see. His wife, Carol. Only she 
was ignorant of the club. He plunged into his work, trying to lose himself 
in detail and stop thinking of Anne Spanner. 

At that moment, Carol, surprised, stopping to check her appearance in the 
mirror, was answering their door, wondering who could be calling so early in 
the morning. She blinked and smiled when she opened the door. "Oh? Mr. 
Spanner. Chuck. This is a surprise." 

Chuck Spanner seemed to fill the doorway. He stood, exuding energy, an 
energy now confined. His face was set serious and noncommittal. "Good 
morning, Mrs. Murcer. I know this is unusual, but I have something of the 
utmost importance to talk to you about. May I come in?" 

Carol was taken aback by his formality and the tone of his voice. 
Intuitively, she knew his presence had something to do with Bill. Her first 
thought and anxiety was that Bill had done something wrong at work. Chuck 
was carrying something under his arm. Flustered, swiping at her hair, she 
gave a nervous laugh and stepped aside. "By all means, Come in. I'm afraid 
the apartment is a mess. I was just going to clean when you rang." 

He stood in the middle of the room, looking around. A polite smile came on 
his lips. "It looks very nice. You must be a good housekeeper." 

"Thank you. Won't you sit down ? " she asked, in dictating a chair. "Can I 
fix you some coffee?" 

"No thank you. I've been up for quite a while and I'd rather get down to 
what I've come for." 

The formality and gravity of his voice caused her to sit facing him, her 
hands in her lap. "What is it? Is it about Bill?" 

He looked at her for a moment before nodding. "You know then?" 

"No, I don't," she answered nervously. "I ... I just guessed. Is it 
something he's done? Isn't he working out?" 

"Working out." He pronounced the words slowly. "You mean the job? No. He's 
doing fine. That's about the only thing I can say for him. Actually, I was 
thinking in terms of promoting him before this other matter came up." 

Carol's heart began to pound and she licked her dry lips. "Other ... 
matter?" 

"Your husband is having an affair with my wife." 

The words seemed to crack out like a rifle report in a canyon. Carol put her 
hands to her face. "That's impossible," she whispered. 

"Where was he last night?" Chuck bent forward. All the charm, ebullience, 
and casual intimacy were gone. He was like a tough seasoned district 
attorney cross-examining a witness. 

"He was working late." 

"That's a lie. He was with my wife." 

"I don't believe it." 

"I can prove it." 

"No!" 

"Yes! This," he said, holding out a small oblong box, "Is a tape recorder. 
Your husband, Bill, was at my house with my wife, last night." He held the 
box toward her as if offering it to her. 

She shrank back. "I don't believe it." 

"Yes you do." he said firmly. "Your face tells me you do. Perhaps you don't 
want to believe it. Well, neither do I. I've suspected something for quite 
some time and believe me, I felt the way you do. I didn't want to believe 
it." 

Carol slumped in her chair and looked dully at the floor and nodded slowly. 
"I knew. Last night, when he came home so late, looking so mussed and with 
liquor on his breath. I know. Oh, God." 

Chuck set the recorder in his lap and pushed a button. Anne Spanner's voice, 
low, metallic yet clear, said, "You know, don't you, that you're quite a 
handsome and sexy man." 

"Thank you." Carol gasped. There was no mistake, it was Bill's voice. 

"Have you had many women? Other than your wife, I mean?" 

"Enough." There was a moment of silence then the rustling of sheets and the 
sound of two people kissing. "Here, put my drink down for me or pretty soon 
I'll be lying in a lake of booze and ice cubes." 

Again there was the sound of bodies moving and low mumbling. Then, "Is your 
wife good in bed?" 

"She's too inexperienced." 

Carol's face was crimson and she stood up. 

Chuck punched another button and the tape stopped. "I'm sorry. I really am. 
It was necessary in order to convince you beyond any doubt. Believe me, this 
hasn't been easy for me. It gets a lot rougher later on. Do you want to hear 
it?" 

"No!" Carol said, turning from him, her voice hoarse as she tried, futilely, 
to fight back tears. "Oh, God!" she said as she collapsed in the chair, her 
hands covering her face. 

Her husband's boss's voice came to her over the sound of her sobbing. "I am 
so sorry. I feel the same way you do. But, I don't think we can afford such 
feelings right now. The important thing is for us to talk and decide what 
we're going to do. Decide what the most sensible thing is, decide a course 
of action." He got up and crossed to her chair, his hand on her shoulder 
lightly. "Why don't you go fix your face and we'll talk, calmly rationally." 

She nodded and fled to the bedroom and into the bathroom where she ran cold 
water and held a washcloth to her face. 

When she came back, Chuck was sitting in a chair, composed, smoking a 
cigarette. She tried to smile and looked away from him, still ashamed and 
humiliated. It was an odd and uncomfortable situation, talking to a man who 
knew she wasn't very good in bed. She sat down, prim, lacing her fingers 
together, looking at the floor. "I guess I'll get a lawyer." 

"Eventually. But, what would you tell him?" Chuck asked in a quiet calm way. 

"I'd tell him that I knew and that you knew and had a tape." 

"Our knowing or saying that we know is not enough for courts in this state. 
And this," he said, tapping the recorder, "Is inadmissible evidence." 

"I don't understand?" she said, frowning. 

"Tapes can be changed, altered, edited. Someone could impersonate your 
husband or my wife. No," he said, shaking his head, "I'd advise you to have 
something more concrete before you go to an attorney. I certainly want 
something more substantial than this. First thing a good lawyer would ask is 
... how did you get that tape?" 

"Yes?" Carol asked, her eyes arching. "If you got that tape, you must have 
been there." Again, her face went scarlet. "Did you ... did you ... see?" 
That little word 'see' seemed so dirty and she felt lewd impulses stir deep 
inside her. 

Chuck shook his head sadly. "No, I was out of town. As I said, I've 
suspected for a long time so I rigged a little booby trap. It wasn't too 
hard. A remote control device, much the same as you use when you turn a TV 
on, was put under the mattress. Whenever anyone sat or ... laid on the bed, 
the tape recorder was activated. I have a friend who is a private 
investigator and he lent it to me." 

"And you found out," Carol said sadly, closing her eyes. 

"I almost wish I hadn't. It was tough to sit and listen to that tape. As I 
said, it gets rough. Want to hear more? Frankly, he says some pretty 
terrible things about you." 

"No!" She shook her head firmly. Anger was rising, boiling in her, replacing 
her grief. Later, she would have time for tears and sorrow. Now, an emotion 
as old as time itself was stirring in her. Heaven and hell know no fury like 
a woman scorned. Far back in time, when humans first roamed this earth, one 
emotion was felt: vengeance. Carol's fists were clenched, her jaw firm. She 
must, in some way, get even! Tears, this time stemming from anger and 
frustration, welled in her eyes. "I don't know what to do!" she cried. 

Chuck leaned forward, the clincher ready. "I have a plan." 

Immediately, they were two conspirators, leaning toward each other, their 
voices low. "What is it?" 

"Well," Chuck tapped the recorder again. "Near the end of this tape, they 
make a date. They're going to meet this Friday evening." 

"Good," Carol said maliciously. "Where?" 

Chuck gave her a cold smile. "My place." 

"Your home! The nerve, the gall!" 

"Yes. I'm to be out of town again. We were going to have a party that night 
and I said something about canceling it but Anne insisted it go on. Said she 
would be lonely. I said okay. Now, she's going to have him at that party 
and, if he goes, we'll have a little surprise for him." 

"What?" 

"You and me. We'll hide in the house. There's a private entrance to my den 
and we can wait there. When the time is right, we can confront them, catch 
them, and have all the evidence we need." 

"I ... I don't know," Carol was dubious. The thought of actually catching 
Bill and Chuck's wife in something naked and lewd disturbed her. 

"You must," he insisted. "If you don't, I will. You see, if we get enough on 
them, they won't dare fight any divorce action on your or my part. They'd be 
afraid to and that way we can keep a lot of nasty facts from coming out. 
Facts, I might add, that could hurt you, and me, very much." 

"I still don't know." 

"None of this is nice or pleasant because the situation isn't pleasant. You 
have to fight fire with fire. If you can think of a better way, I'm willing 
to hear it." 

"It all seems ... so ... terrible." 

"I agree. But, just once, I want to see her face when she knows I've got 
her. Don't you want the satisfaction of telling him off?" 

Again, rage built in her and she set her lips and nodded grimly. "Yes," she 
said, her voice growing strong, "I'd like to see that. I'd like to see him 
crawl." 

"Then it's a deal?" 

She looked right into his unwavering gaze. "Yes." 

"Good," he said, getting up. "Say nothing. Treat him as if nothing had 
happened." 

"That's not going to be easy," she said. 

"I know, but you can do it. Above all, they mustn't get wind of our knowing. 
Remember that when you look at him and he lies to you. The party starts at 
eight. I'll pick you up a little after eight. I'll have a camera. Just leave 
everything to me." 

At the door, Carol managed a smile. "I don't know how to thank you." 

He looked at her quizzically. "I'm not sure you should, at least, not yet. 
Not yet. I'm sorry to bring you all this unhappiness. I thought it all over 
and decided a little hurt was preferable to a large one. See you Friday. 
Keep your chin up." 

"Goodbye." 

"Goodbye." And the door was closed and Chuck strode down the hall with his 
old cockiness, a wolf-like grin on his face. Chuck, he told himself, you old 
high-riding, double-clutching, jive-timing bastard, you brought it off. 
Friday comes and you're going to get yourself a great piece of ass and knock 
'em dead! 

Inside, Carol leaned on the door and cried softly to herself. In such a 
seeming short space of time, her life had come crashing down around her. The 
man she had married and loved was a stranger to her. That old saying that 
you didn't really know someone until you slept with them wasn't true. She 
had loved Bill, still loved him in some strange way, yet she felt she didn't 
know him. How long had this affair been going on? How could she face him 
tonight when he came home? How many others had there been? How often had he 
lied to her? 

The thought of his having lied to her set the rage boiling in her again. All 
right, she said, with a fine feminine scorn, two can play the same game. She 
went about her chores with an intensity and energy that surprised her. When 
Bill came home that night, he would find the apartment spotless and a good 
meal cooked for him. With a grim smile she decided she would prepare stuffed 
peppers, one of his favorite meals. And she would apologize to him for the 
way she had been and she would be sweet and attentive to him and do whatever 
he wished. Anything, she told herself, anything he wants except ... sex. 
That, she wouldn't give him under any circumstances. She would be sweet and 
kind to him right up until the moment he left on Friday night. Then, then 
she would fix him. 

Bill couldn't help heaving a big sigh of relief as he sat at his drafting 
board. Chuck Spanner had just breezed through and had come over and slapped 
Bill on the back. "Those plans were beautiful. Waytogo! Sure made me look 
good. How's it going?" 

"Fine. And with you?" he had asked with just a trace of apprehension in his 
voice. "I'm beat. Had some weekend." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah and I'll be on the road this weekend too." 

"Aw. Too bad." 

"Yeah, but can't be helped. It's the nature of the beast. I'll take some 
time off later." 

"You deserve it." 

"Yeah and you deserve something for doing such a good job. Have a good 
weekend?" Bill almost coughed. "I had a ball." 

"Waytogo!" 

Bill lit a cigarette after Chuck had swaggered off with a slight trembling 
to his hand. After all, what would that bastard do if he knew? Still, he 
obviously didn't know anything and that was a relief. 

The rest of the day went by pleasantly for him, the work going easily. He 
only saw Chuck once more before he went home and Chuck had waved and smiled 
as he went barreling down the hall. 

The last thing he expected was a smiling Carol as he reluctantly let himself 
in his apartment. She came to him and put her arms around him and they 
kissed and made up and Bill told a lie on the spot that would explain the 
liquor on his breath. "Actually, I finished very early and had some time on 
my hands and I wanted to think. I thought about us and our future and what 
we going to do with our lives and the time just slipped by." 

Carol accepted it all as the gospel with a steel-band smile and led him into 
his favorite dinner. 

The week flew by for Bill and he mused on the many mental changes a man can 
go through in the short space of four days. Awhile ago, the world had seemed 
so dark and, in a twinkling, it all changed and all was rosy again. The 
further he got away from Anne Spanner in time, the less he thought of her. 
He found himself moralizing: she was depraved. No doubt about that. The 
things she talked about and wanted to do with him. Sex was for kicks with 
her and he wouldn't be a bit surprised if she took dope. 

Still, there were moments when he relived the evening with her and felt that 
old surge and wild orgiastic freedom. Then his cock would bulge and he would 
find himself with a tight grin. Damn, he thought, so it was depraved? It was 
fun! 

Yet, all was fine with Carol. Almost fine. She was a delight to be around, 
attentive, bright, witty. Only at night, when they got in bed, was she cold 
and aloof, always preceding any act he might make by giving herself an 
alibi. "I'm awfully tired." or "My stomach is just a little upset." 

Then he would lie in the dark and grit his teeth with his penis rock-hard 
and flat up against his stomach and his whole body would ache as he thought 
of Anne Spanner and seeing her just once more and fucking the very life out 
of her and that friend. What was her name? Muriel! Conjuring her up in his 
mind, imagining what it would be like to have her and Anne at the same time, 
he would find his chest heaving, his fists clenched, and his body covered 
with a fine film of perspiration. It was at moments like this that he vowed 
he would see Anne Spanner once more. 

During the day and in the evening when he was with Carol, he decided he 
would not see her again. Supposing he should be found out? She had said, "a 
party." So? Everyone there would be in the same boat. Still, someone might 
tell Chuck and then the shit would hit the fan. No, he reasoned, things are 
too good now to rock the boat. What the-hell, I had a good time and still 
have my wife. I got away with it. Why not let it go at that? 

He had almost made up his mind not to go. By Thursday afternoon, he was 
reviewing ,the week and feeling thankful he was in such good shape. Sitting 
at his drafting table, working his slide rule, he told himself he would take 
Carol to the movies Friday night. 

Then the phone rang. 

Bill seldom got any outside calls, most of his rings being 
interdepartmental, so he answered the call casually. "Murcer," he sang into 
the phone. 

"Hi, Murcer." 

Bill froze then glanced around the large drafting room to see if anyone was 
near or listening. It was the voice of Anne Spanner. "You shouldn't call me 
here," he said in a low voice. 

"Why not? " she asked, her voice merry and brazen. 

"Somebody might catch wise." 

"Come on." 

"I mean it. The switchboard. The girl might recognize your voice." 

"I disguised it," Anne's voice came into his ear in a mock-basso voice. "I 
said, gimme that Murcer kid." 

"Really. I don't like this." 

Anne's rich laughter came over the line. "Okay. 

I just got out of the bath and was lying here thinking of you. Oh," her 
voice said and Bill's cock gave a jerk in his pants at the remembered way 
she moved when she said that word that way, "Oh," she said again, "How I 
wish you were here right now." 

"Look...." 

"Here," she said, her voice a low dark purr, "next to me and fucking me." 

"Stop talking like that!" 

"Fucking me and then I'd suck you. Ssssssssssuck." she kissed hotly over the 
line. 

"Stop it, the operator might be listening in." 

"She isn't. I wish she were. Maybe she'd come over to. You can hear an ether 
sound, a sort of buzzing when they listen in from a switchboard." 

"Yeah," Bill gave a hopeless little laugh and crossed his legs against the 
rampant erection growing in his pants. The switchboard operator was cute and 
young. "But, I still don't like this." 

"Okay, cold feet, I'll make it brief. It's ail set for tomorrow night. I 
told Muriel and, my dear," and her voice mocked a society matron, "she's 
just dying to get together with us." Then her voice changed. It was low and 
husky and intimate, the way it sounded when he lay on top of her and fucked 
while she whispered plans and desires in his ear. "Ever have two women go 
down on you at once ... Warm, wet, lipstick covered lips all over your 
cock?" 

"N-nno," was all he could answer. 

"Then," she said teasingly, "You've got something to look forward to. That 
and a lot more." 

He took a deep breath. "Look, I don't think lean make it." 

"Why not?" 

"Well, there will be other people there and, you know, somebody might talk 
and ... I'd be in a lot of trouble." 

"Silly, we all wear masks at things like this. The mask comes off later with 
the rest of the clothes. Hell, leave it on if you like. Be the Lone Ranger." 

Despite himself, he couldn't help giggling. "Thanks, but ... " 

"Don't 'but' me. Listen, you'll be there. Know why?" 

"No." 

"Because you're like me. We're two of a kind and you know if you show up, 
you're going to experience something you'll never forget. Now don't let me, 
and Muriel, down." There was a click and he sat with a dead phone in his 
hand and a raging in his groin. 

 CHAPTER 8 

"Carol." She looked up from her plate and smiled at Bill. His face was set 
and serious. 

"What, darling?" 

"I've got to work Friday night." 

Without a pause, she said, "All right. That's the way it sometimes goes." 

"I was going to take you out to the movies." Bill was thankful he was 
telling at least one truth. 

"We can go Saturday," she said, smiling. 

"I hope you understand." 

"Understand?" She looked at him wide-eyed. 

"Yes. That I really do have to work." 

She put her fork down and cocked her head, smiling ruefully at him. "Of 
course you do. Darling, please forgive me. I was so nasty to you." 

"Well, it's just that I don't want you to mistrust me." 

With a straight face and calm voice, she said, "I trust you." 

"Good." 

Friday, he was alive with an energy he hadn't ever known before. It was like 
the feeling and energy he had felt when he had had Anne Spanner under him 
and he knew she was helpless. Only, this energy was contained, pent-up, 
fuming. When he kissed Carol good-bye at the door, he could barely resist 
grabbing her and crushing her in his arms and falling on top of her and 
tearing at her clothes and fucking her right there in the doorway. 

At work, he shot the switchboard operator a hot glance, trying to divine, in 
her smile, if she had listened in. Now, he didn't mind if she had. He'd like 
to fuck her too. She was a cute teen-age piece of ass and he could just see 
him and Anne Spanner teaching her a few things. 

Chuck was his usual bubbling self, working at a breakneck speed and 
mentioning how he had to clear things up in time to catch the late afternoon 
plane. 

Work over, Bill drove to a part of town where he didn't think he'd be known 
or recognized and ate a light dinner. Afterwards, he drove around, cruising, 
looking at the girls walking. He ended up sitting in a bowling alley bar, 
sipping a scotch, killing time by ogling the cocktail waitress in her 
miniskirt and all the cute young things who were out on the lanes bowling. 
God, he thought, there is just so much good pussy around to let it all go to 
waste. 

He sat drinking, savoring the evening to come and feeling his excitement 
mounting to a white-hot intensity. Jesus, was he going to give it to both of 
them! He drank on, getting a little drunk and liking it, liking the reckless 
feeling it gave him which seemed to stroke the fires of his passion. He 
glanced at the clock. It was ten to eight. Time to get going. 

Across town, Chuck Spanner was rearranging his face into a somber cast 
before ringing Carol Murcer's doorbell. Wouldn't want the little lady to 
guess what she was in for. Waytogo! he told himself. 

He was all business with her, showing her the camera and outlining just how 
they would go about things. Finally, he looked at Anne and smiled. "Can I 
ask a favor?" 

"Yes?" 

"Can I have a drink? I mean, all this is a little unnerving." 

"Of course." 

"Will you join me?" 

Carol hesitated then said, "Yes, it might help." 

"Good. It will kill time for us. Don't want to get there before it's good 
and dark. 

They had two drinks, Carol's limit, and then departed. Carol felt so furtive 
even getting into the car and was thankful for the drinks and hoped she had 
enough character and strength to get through the next few hours. If she had 
even a remote idea of what was in store for her, she would have died on the 
spot. 

They drove to the house in silence with Chuck turning out the headlights and 
gliding slowly to the curb several houses away. They sat next to each other, 
looking at the house. Cars were parked out front and, Carol's face blushing 
and her anger rising, she recognized one of them as Bill's, theirs, car. She 
closed her eyes for a moment. All this time she had nourished a little 
thought in the back of her head. He wouldn't be there. She would not have to 
go through with the plans. There was something so sneaky about them. Now, it 
was too late. Their chevy sat at the curb. 

"It looks quiet. Are you ready?" Chuck asked in a whisper. "Yes." 

"Just follow me and stay close to the bushes." 

Before she could think, they were out of the car and hurrying toward the 
house. Chuck led in the dark, sure of foot and holding out his hand as a 
guide as they worked their way around to a side door, stepping in the 
flowers and feeling the soft loam under their feet. He stopped before a dark 
door, fumbled for his key, stopped, and with a click, the door swung open 
and he stepped aside. 

Anne hurried in and saw herself in a small room. A desk, file cabinets, rows 
of books, a typewriter and a TV set. Along one wall, a leather couch. Along 
another, a full-length mirror. 

Chuck closed the door and strode to the inner door, carefully checking to 
see if it was locked. Satisfied, he walked noiselessly back to her over the 
thick rug and whispered, "Phase one. We've made it. We can relax while I try 
to figure out what's going on." 

With a wink, he slid behind his desk and punched buttons on a plastic 
console, leaning toward a speaker. All of the buttons registered silence as 
he switched into different rooms and sections of the house. All save one. 
The romper room. They were met with a wall of murmuring and music. They 
listened, hearing the sound of glasses and ice and laughter. With a grunt, 
he switched the romper room off. "They're all down in there." 

"What are we going to do?" 

For an answer, he swung to the TV, turned a dial then flipped a switch. The 
set glowed then swelled to life. "Damn," he said. 

"What is it?" Carol said, stepping closer. Just then a face, masked like at 
a ball, floated in front of the camera. It was a woman and she was smiling 
wickedly at someone or thing just out of camera range. Yet, it was hard to 
make out her features or what was around her, the lighting was so bad. "They 
got the lights down low. I didn't anticipate this." He turned the dial and 
they saw different parts of the romper room, all of it incomprehensible. All 
they could see was the dark outline of bodies dancing or, occasionally, a 
face whenever anyone came close to the camera. Chuck flicked off the set and 
sat rubbing his jaw. "This changes things." 

"Why?" Carol asked, "I thought we'd wait until they went to a bedroom and 
then we'd go in." 

"That's what's worrying me," he said, looking up at her with a wrinkled 
brow. "They might not go to a bedroom." 

"You mean ... they might ... in front of all ... !" 

"You don't know my wife." 

Carol sunk down on the couch. "What are we going to do?" 

He heaved himself up. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to have a 
drink. I can't think on a clear head." She went to a wall cabinet and swung 
it open, revealing a small bar. Pouring deftly, he came to her with two 
glasses. 

Carol put her hand up. "Sorry, I don't want one." 

"You'd better," he insisted, holding it out, "you'll need it when you hear 
what I've got in mind." 

"What?" she snapped, immediately defensive and frightened. 

"Go down there." He pushed the glass into her hand. 

"What! No, I couldn't!" 

"It's dark and they're all wearing masks. Be easy to find two around. We 
could slip in and nobody would know. You saw how dark it is. It would serve 
them right." He sipped at his drink. 

Not really thinking, Carol followed his example. "What is this?" 

"Pernod. A kind of Pernod. All I got in here and I don't want to risk 
prowling the house for something else." 

"I've never had Pernod. It tastes funny." 

"It's mild and will relax you." 

They drank with Chuck persuading her to go to the romper room. Carol 
objected. "But, Bill would know me. He knows my clothes." 

"That's easy. I'll get something of Anne's. She'll never notice. And it'll 
be dark." He sat next to her, the dark green bottle in his hand, constantly 
filling her glass as he talked. Carol didn't mind, it was mild and sweet and 
like an after dinner drink and, if it would relax her, so much the better. 
They talked on, with Carol demurring, her resistance melting as she felt a 
pleasant warm glow spread over her body. "It would serve them right!" Chuck 
kept saying and she found herself agreeing. 

Details became hazy and she was conscious of Chuck slipping out the door and 
returning almost at once with two eye masks in his hand. 

Grinning, she tried one of them on and she felt secret and wicked as the 
glow continued to build. She had never been drunk in her life and didn't 
consider herself drunk now. Yet, she had never felt this way. She was going 
to get even with Bill and it all seemed funny. 

Adjusting his mask, Chuck peered down at her and said, "Come on, we'll get 
something for you to wear." 

Walking swiftly through the house, Chuck whispered, "If we meet anyone, just 
smile and keep going." They made it to the master bedroom with Chuck first 
opening the door to make sure no one was there then stepping back. "Be 
quick. Something simple." 

Carol felt like a criminal as she found herself alone in a strange bedroom, 
going through a closet, listening for any sound with Chuck on guard out in 
the hall. She giggled and lurched, wondering what was the matter with her. 
Was that stuff, that Pernod, affecting her? Quickly, she discovered a 
Mexican serape and slipped it on over her head, again losing her balance. 
Trying to hide her giggle, she careened to the door, opened it and fell 
against Chuck outside, his hands accidentally brushing against her breasts 
as he caught her. "Sorry," she said, blowing the hair from her eyes. "Don't 
know 'smatter with me." 

"You'll be okay. Come on, let's go." He put his arm around her and they 
walked to the romper room door. She didn't mind him holding her close. The 
only jar to her pleasant feeling came when he opened the door and she 
remembered that Bill, her husband, was in that dark cellar. 

They felt their way down the dark steps with Chuck Spanner whispering, 
"Stick with me. I'll do all the talking. Just do whatever I do." 

They were in the room proper with Chuck holding her tightly by the waist. It 
was crowded with swaying dancing bodies and more bodies strewn on the 
couches and on large pillows that were flung on the floor. Rock music was 
blasting out of speakers and people were shouting and screeching and 
laughing. There was a heavy pungent odor in the air; a sickly sweet smell, 
something like rope burning. Carol thought it was incense. 

Chuck selected some pillows on the floor near one corner and they sat next 
to each other with Carol peering around, trying to find Bill. "Let your eyes 
get accustomed to the dark," Chuck whispered. 

"What's going on?" she whispered back, excitement and just a touch of fear 
in her voice. 

"Nothing yet that I can see. Everybody's getting boozed up and turned on. 
Take it easy. Things will happen later." 

A masked woman came to them, a strange cigarette in her hand. She stooped, 
somewhat unevenly, and offered the cigarette to Carol. "Here," she slurred. 
"I saw you come in. Turn on," she said, her smile slack and somewhat 
absentminded. 

"Take it," Chuck whispered then, louder, to the girl, he said, "Thanks." 

The girl swiped at her hair and stood up. "My pleasure. It's real funky 
stuff." She stood a minute as if trying to remember something then wandered 
away. 

"What is this?" Carol asked, holding it like it was a bomb. 

"Pot. Damn, I didn't know she'd have this in my own house. We gotta smoke 
it. Too many people watching." 

"I can't do a thing like that," Carol hissed into his ear, shoving the 
cigarette at him. 

"You have to. I smoked it in Vietnam. Hell, everybody does. It won't hurt 
you. Try it. Try it!" he said, his voice hard and demanding, "Or pretty soon 
everybody is going to wonder about the couple in the corner who don't smoke 
pot and then we'll get noticed and then where will we be?" 

Reluctantly, Carol inhaled some of the pungent smoke and choked and passed 
the cigarette to Chuck. "Watch me," Chuck said and she watched as he inhaled 
the smoke with a heavy sucking sound then passed the cigarette back to her. 
She took it and imitated him, holding her breath. 

They seemed to sit forever, time standing still, as they passed the ever 
burning cigarette back and forth. Finally, it was done and Carol leaned back 
on the pillows, feeling lightheaded and glowing. She blinked. How long had 
they been there? Time seemed to stand still and the music, even though it 
was loud, sounded better and seemed to go on and on. She found herself 
smiling as she tried to think of why they were there in masks. The fact that 
she couldn't remember struck her as very funny. Bill! 

He walked by, lurching slightly, near her feet. He hadn't seen her, hadn't 
even looked down. Despite his mask, she'd recognize his body and walk 
anywhere. He walked to the bar and took a cigarette out of the mouth of a 
stacked redhead in a scarlet mask. No mistaking her either: the one and only 
Anne Spanner. Carol watched as she saw her husband put his arms around her 
and kiss her greedily on the mouth. Another woman, laughing, masked, put her 
arms around the two of them and hugged them. Bill broke free to drag deeply 
on the marijuana cigarette and ask, "Damn, this is wild stuff. What did you 
call it?" 

"Acapulco gold, baby," Anne answered. 

Bill looked around the room dreamily. Damn, he thought, what a night this 
was going to be. He was flying and feeling like he could fuck all night. 
"Hey," he said, "Who's that cute chick over in the corner? I didn't see her 
come in." 

"A friend," Anne said, exchanging an amused smile with Muriel behind Bill's 
back. 

"Say, she's looking at me. I'd like to meet that with nothing under that 
serape," he leered, his confidence inspired to greater heights by the 
burning pot. 

"You will, later," Anne said while Muriel stifled a laugh. "I promise, that 
after the others, you can have all the sloppy sevenths or eighths you want!" 

"Right," he said, swinging around. He was drunk and stoned out of his mind. 
"After we all get through with our little date. Come on, let's cut out." 

"Can't yet, honey," Anne said soothingly. "Not until after the movies. Club 
rule." 

"The hell with the movies and the rule. We'll make our own movie." 

Anne snuggled up against him in a suggestive way. "Ever wanted to make a 
movie?" she asked, a smutty smile on her face. 

"Why not!" Bill said. Hell, he was ready for anything. He was never going to 
do anything like this again and he was going to enjoy it right up to the 
hilt. 

"Later. Be a good boy and watch. The movies will only make it better later." 

"Okay," he said with a wave of the hand and sitting on a barstool and 
gazing, with glazed eyes at the girl in the serape across the room. She was 
still looking at him. Goddamn, he thought, I attract them like flies to 
honey. Something strange about that girl. Just as he had an inkling of what 
that 'strangeness might be, the lights went out, the music turned off and 
everyone present turned to one wall as expectant voices murmured low. 

Carol, in the dark, roused herself. It seemed so difficult to concentrate on 
anything but the growing feeling of euphoria that made her body tingle all 
over. She groped toward where she thought Chuck was and felt his strong hand 
squeeze hers. "What's going to happen? What are they going to do now?" 

"Keep your voice down. I think they're going to show some movies," he 
whispered, lying, knowing exactly what was going on. 

"Movies? What kind of movies?" 

"Stag movies." 

In the dark, Carol passed her hand over her face. A voice deep in her told 
her she had to get out of this room. Yet, she seemed powerless to move. She 
felt so good and it was nice having her thoughts scattered and vague. A 
little moan, half of wicked delight, half of anxiety, escaped from her lips. 

A cone of light stabbed through the darkness and a unified "AH!" came from 
the group in the romper room as they settled down to watch the illuminated 
screen on one wall with the cigarette smoke drifting and mingling with the 
heavy pungent marijuana smoke. 

A black and white film began. A room, seeming to be a hotel or motel room 
somewhere, distinguished by its sameness and Carol found herself staring at 
it with an idiot kind of fascination. Then, two figures in front of the 
camera. Carol tried to focus her eyes to see who they were and what they 
were doing. She jumped, tensing, when she saw bare flesh. They were 
undressing! A man and a woman! 

The girl was young and a brunette and her figure was good if not 
spectacular. A silly thought: I have a better figure than that. 

The camera was low, taking in the man's body from the waist down and the 
girl, naked, her breasts jiggling, knelt in front of him and helped him take 
his pants off. There was a seriously, preoccupied expression on her face 
with her mouth slightly open and her lips wet. Impatiently, she reached into 
his underwear, fumbled, and pulled out his cock. 

Carol gasped as she watched the girl play with the semierect penis, stroking 
it then rubbing it all over her face with an expression of bliss then 
opening her mouth and sucking rhythmically on the head. 

Carol struggled up. "I've got to get out of here!" she whispered, her voice 
trembling. 

She was amazed and frightened by Chuck's response and brute strength. 
Grabbing her by the shoulders, he pushed her down and growled in her ear. 
"Oh-no-you-don't! Stay! You get up now and you blow the whole thing! You 
don't want to watch, close your eyes!" And with that, he shoved her further 
down on the pillows, her body in an uncomfortable position with the silk 
crotchband of her panties stretched and pressing up tight against the lips 
of her vagina. She squirmed to get into a more comfortable position but only 
made her position worse. The tingling feeling, the euphoria she was feeling 
now seemed to center between her legs and, even though she squeezed her eyes 
shut and tried to will the feeling away, it only mounted in intensity. 

Despite herself, she opened one eye to see what was going on in the movie. 
The camera had moved in closer now and the man's cock had ballooned to twice 
its former size and the girl was sucking on it with her eyes closed and the 
man was beginning to move his hips in the most lascivious way, pumping in 
and out just as though her mouth were her vagina. Carol thought she had 
never seen anything so obscene and animal-like in her life. That wasn't 
love, it was sheer animalistic sex! She watched in fascinated revulsion, 
feeling a moist, unwanted tingle growing in her own cunt as one big hand 
came down, a tattoo on the back of the hand, and the fingers tangled in the 
girl's hair and held her head in place as the big cock slid wetly in and out 
of her mouth in long sure strokes. 

Carol had to move. The tightness of her panties pressing up between her legs 
was driving her mad; to her drugged and drunken horror, she felt old 
depraved feelings of lust growing in her own body. She had to, in some way, 
relieve the pressure on the lips of her vagina. She squirmed and Chuck 
seized her again, muttering, "Be still!" 

Her tiny, adjusting writhings only made the crotch band press harder. It was 
pressing all the way up in the crevice of her buttocks now, teasing her anus 
and deeply imbedded in her vaginal slit, pressing maddeningly against her 
clitoris which was now moist and involuntarily swelling. Perspiration was 
standing out on her forehead. God, she thought, I never knew it could feel 
so good. 

Her glazed eyes were now staring unblinking at the screen, watching, as the 
camera began panning down, pulling back. The man was now lying on the bed, 
his legs straddling a corner and the girl was still sucking, holding his 
prick with one hand as her other hand caressed her breasts, hungrily 
pinching the nipples. 

"Look at that!" Chuck said hoarsely and as though it were the most natural 
thing in the world slipped one hand under the serape onto her breast. 

Carol started to push his hand away but paused, distracted, watching, half 
in horror, half in a driving guilty lust that made her body squirm in rising 
excitement as the girl's hand trailed down, on down, down to mingle in her 
soft dark pubic hair. Then, as Carol found herself panting and her hips 
squirming, the girl shifted, parting her thighs, her hand moving to her cunt 
and the fingers spread the moist, thin vaginal lips open and her forefinger 
began stroking up and down the length of her completely exposed cunt. 

Carol's head was swimming and she wasn't even conscious that she was making 
a little sighing-moaning sound as the camera pulled back and showed the girl 
now finger fucking herself in and out of her open cunt as she sucked 
rhythmically on the throbbing male cock, the man raised now on his elbows to 
watch her with wide, leering eyes. God, it was all so wicked, so wicked and 
yet, against her will, so goooooood, she thought. She licked her lips. Her 
mouth was dry and caked and she was making small mewling sounds while her 
hips were unconsciously twisting around under the serape. What was 
happening? Was he, Bill's boss, touching her under the serape? Oh God, what 
was he doing? filtered through her absinthe, pot drugged mind. 

Helplessly, her thoughts faded and her head fell back against the base of 
the couch near them and in spite of her proud young morals, her awakening 
body reveled in the wild lewd pleasure writhing like a tiny, teasing flame 
through her genitals. She watched the screen breathlessly as the girl 
suddenly stopped sucking the man's hardened cock and crawled on top of him, 
her thighs straddling his hips as they kissed, with her smoothly rounded 
little buttocks grinding into his groin. 

"She's going to fuck him now," a voice whispered. Carol didn't know who it 
was and didn't care. An electric syrup seemed to flow through her body when 
she heard the lewdly arousing word, "Fuck." 

She tried to get hold of herself. Something was going on. Hands seemed to be 
everywhere, teasingly caressing her involuntarily moving body. Feebly, her 
eyes still locked on the obscene action on the screen, she tried to push 
them away. "Fuck," the voice said again and she felt goose bumps rise on her 
flesh. "I'm going to fuck you," the distant, yet close, voice said and she 
almost swooned as her body twisted with strange, forbidden pleasure and all 
she could do was moan helplessly. 

Bill, at the bar, had his hand up underneath Anne Spanner's dress and was 
massaging her smooth naked buttocks, his eyes darting from the screen to the 
new couple on the floor near the wall. Damn, he thought, that guy's feeling 
her up under that serape. His cock swelled bigger as he saw her dress worked 
smoothly out from under the serape and flung aside. It was too dark to see 
details, but others were helping the guy and the chick in the mask was out 
of it. Jesus, he thought, is she ever a hot assed little number! 

His own passion and expectation mounting, Bill teased his tongue in Anne's 
ear, wrapped an arm around Muriel Abrams, who snuggled close and placed a 
hand on his inner thigh. "Let's go!" he said. "I can't take much more of 
this stuff! I want the real thing!" 

Anne pressed up against him, her hand mingling with Muriel's as they groped 
for his cock under his pants. "Okay, let's go play hide the weeney." 

They hurried, stumbling through the darkness and up the stairs. They 
careened down the hall with Bill shedding his coat and tie and mask before 
they ever got to the master bedroom. In the room, he tore at his clothes 
like a madman, flinging them everywhere, not caring as he watched the two 
women taking their clothes off. Muriel, older, still had a good figure with 
big breasts that jiggled enticingly as she stripped, her glittering eyes 
locked hungrily on Anne Spanner's naked body. 

Muriel ignored Bill for the moment, stepping close and helping Anne out of 
her bra and panties then running her hands all over her curvaceous body 
before kissing her full on the mouth. Bill watched, his mouth open in awe as 
the two women cupped each other by the buttocks then leaned back, thrusting 
their hips forward and grinding the soft curls of their pussy hair hotly 
together. 

Muriel, shorter, darker, her head thrown back, her mouth open, moaned, "Oh, 
baby!" and broke free to fall heavily to her knees and seize Anne's warm 
rounded buttocks in her arms and bury her face between her slightly parted 
thighs. A shudder of pure lascivious pleasure went through Anne's body as 
the older woman's probing tongue licked hungrily into her cunt. 

With a roar, Bill charged, knocking Muriel to the floor and Anne backwards 
onto the bed where he crashed on top of her. Anne threw her legs wide apart 
and he could feel the head of his cock slipping and sliding along her desire 
moistened pussy as the other woman scrambled up on the bed next to him and 
lay on her stomach, her head burrowing to get at one of Anne's sumptuous 
breasts. "Fuck her, Bill," Muriel panted, "Fuck her and I'll help you do it 
good!" 

Bill went wild, plowing into her hot wet cunt that Anne was contracting and 
clenching wildly as Muriel cupped her breast in her hands and sucked on the 
nipple as Bill watched. With one hand, he reached down and back and his 
fingers slid between Muriel's buttocks and brazenly probed for her anus. 
Muriel responded by splitting her legs wide and gyrating her hips. His 
finger popped through the rubbery softness and Muriel gave a short, muffled 
cry of pain as his finger ground deep into her anus. 

With a roar, Bill broke free from his passionate embrace and flipped Muriel 
Abrams over with a strength that surprised even him. She rolled over and 
sprawled, lewd, legs flung wide apart and he fell on her and felt, with a 
lewd thrill, his cock sink into yet another greedily swallowing cunt. 

Anne crawled to her hands and knees behind Bill and he roared, bellowed with 
excitement and almost shot his cum up into her right then and there as he 
felt Anne's thick red hair tickling his buttocks and felt her face and then, 
as his body shook and he pumped with all his strength, fucked Muriel with a 
wild abandon, felt, thrilled, couldn't believe it was real, yet felt Anne's 
wet tongue tracing its lewd way between the cheeks of his buttocks, trailing 
on down to where it flicked over his puckered anus and he moaned and 
shuddered to keep from cumming and reared back, knocking Anne away and 
pulling out of Muriel. 

Muriel was like a tiger, fighting to reach his cock, her mouth open. 

"Wait!" 

They looked at Anne who smiled and held up a hand. "We want to play awhile 
before we cum all over each other. I've got an idea." She got up off the bed 
and ran to the TV, her breasts swinging, her buttocks like jelly. She 
flicked the set on. She ran back to the bed and lay down on her back, her 
head to the screen. "Now, Muriel, get on top. Bill, fuck us both." Her mouth 
twisted lewdly. "Face the screen and fuck us with everything you have and 
you and Muriel can watch what's going on." 

Bill watched in a kind of obscene stupor as Muriel crawled on top of Anne 
and slowly lowered her body until their breasts were just touching. With a 
rhythmic swaying motion they rubbed the nipples of their breasts together 
and Anne slid her legs open and Bill looked down to see the swollen lips of 
her vagina and saw her fingers slip under her buttocks and spread wide their 
hair-lined softness so that he could see her tiny pulsating clitoris and the 
smooth pink walls of her cunt as Muriel lowered her hips and ground her 
pubic hair against Anne's hotly jerking clitoris. 

Muriel put all her weight on Anne and their open mouths locked together and 
Bill watched as their hips ground and undulated together like some thick, 
warmly clinging liquid. Slowly, Muriel was splitting her legs wide so, as 
Bill groaned, he could see their two cunts wet and open with Anne's fingers 
probing upward, spreading the lips of Muriel's cunt teasingly apart right 
before his eyes. 

The room was heavy with the scent and smell of sex now as the two women 
writhed nakedly before his eyes, their cunts wet and glistening now. His 
eyes flicked to the television screen. There was plenty of activity in the 
romper room now and the girl with the serape was sprawled out on the soft, 
furry rug. The set was a little out of focus, but he could see the serape 
bunched uselessly up around her waist and her cunt was open and naked and a 
man was bending over her. 

Bill got on his knees between the legs of the two women and slowly sunk his 
cock into the older of the two women who moaned and screamed and writhed. A 
wild freedom came over him and he fucked with a wild abandon, his head 
thrown back, an animal growl coming out of his throat as he pulled out of 
Muriel who contracted her buttocks to keep his cock in her and, dipping 
lower, sunk his ramrod prick into the soft, warmly clinging flash of his 
boss's wife's hotly writhing cunt. This, he thought, is a real orgy! He 
turned his fogged eyes to the screen to watch as he fucked the two women 
with all his might, their sweating bodies writhing in orgiastic unison. 

Carol was now desperately pleading. On the movie screen the couple were 
wildly fucking now. The girl was lying so that her head was hanging back 
over the edge of the bed and the man was on top of her, his cock grinding 
deep around in her cunt, his arms locked around her rib cage, arching her 
back as he rammed his cock home with an increasing tempo. And Carol, in her 
drugged stupor, was pleading. Chuck Spanner was over her and to one side and 
she was naked under the serape. "Would you like that?" his voice asked. 
"Like to get fucked like that?" 

And she was trying to shake her head and plead. "Please, please, please," 
she was saying over and over again in a little breathy voice. 

Now, other hands were seizing her wrists and pinning her arms back up behind 
her head, making her breasts jut out and Chuck's rough hands were under her 
serape and his fingers hooked in her bra and, with a brutal jerk, the bra 
snapped and gave and her breasts leaped free and his hands massaged them and 
pinched her nipples, sending hot wires of pain through her body. "Nnno," she 
pleaded, wincing, feeling the pain grow deep and mingling with the hot 
churning pleasure deep in her groin. 

"Fuck," Chuck said again. "Say it! You want to!" 

Carol's lips twisted and her lower teeth went against her trembling upper 
lip to form the word but she couldn't. "P-pplease," she moaned. 

It was insane, being stripped of her clothes and having people hold her by 
her arms while her own husband's boss brutally pinched and kneaded at her 
breasts under the serape. All this was happening to her and she couldn't 
take her eyes from the screen. The man had turned the girl over so she was 
lying on her stomach now, her head still hanging over the edge of the bed 
and Carol watched, incredulous, as the girl stuck her buttocks up lewd and 
inviting and the man, on his knees, held her by the hips and sunk his cock 
into her cunt from behind. They began bucking and writhing madly with the 
girl's face a lust-contorted mask of pleasure and depravity. 

Carol closed her eyes and moaned aloud as she felt Chuck's hand slide down 
her silky smooth belly and over her jutting cuntal mound and felt his finger 
tease against her clitoris. 

To her amazement and despair, she felt herself wet and, despite the fact 
that she had her legs locked tight together, the lips of her vagina were 
swollen wide and the older man had no trouble running his finger up and down 
her moistly aroused slit and it thrilled her, it thrilled her beyond 
anything she could imagine! 

"P-pplease," she begged, "P-please," she stammered, feeling herself losing 
all control. Where was she? Who was doing obscene things to her? Who was 
holding her? Her head thrashed back and forth and she tried, with all her 
might, to know what was happening, "Pplease," she repeated, "Please ... 
f-f-fuck! Fuck!" she moaned, her whole body feeling hot and liquid as she 
heard her husband's boss's triumphant laugh above her. 

"Okay, baby, that's the way I like it! Waytogo!" 

She opened her eyes wild and wide as some one lifted the serape up around 
her neck and she lay naked and sweating. Faces, bodies, were squirming all 
around her and Chuck Spanner was taking off his clothes. She couldn't see 
the screen anymore because of the bodies. "Fuck me! Fuck me like in the 
movie! Fuck me, please fuck me!" Carol was amazed that the harsh demanding 
voice was her own! Nothing mattered except to rid herself of this lewd 
mounting feeling and to get fucked like that young girl on the screen. 

Chuck was over her and she looked down to see what he was holding in his 
hand, her head straining. "N-NO!" she screamed. That couldn't possibly be 
his cock! Nothing human could be that big! It was at least nine inches long 
and close to two inches thick! She looked, shaking her head as she saw the 
head glistening with cum from the gland on the end. 

She struggled, speechless from fear. Chuck had a cruel smile on his lips as 
he knelt over her and she heard people laughing lewdly all around her and 
felt their hands on her body and felt fingers digging into the flesh of her 
thighs and calves and pulling her legs wide apart. 

"Fuck the little bitch shitless, Chuck!" 

"He'll do that. Just hope he saves a little for me." 

"Say!" a female voice asked, "What's the matter with me?" 

"Plenty for you baby." 

"All right," Chuck's voice growled, "One at a time. Get those hands off and 
hold her. I'm going to plow all the way up to those hot little tits of hers! 
Her husband'll fall in after I'm through stretching it!" 

Carol screamed and for a moment, all became hideously clear. She had been 
tricked, she was being raped, she was being raped by her own husband's boss. 
She threw back her head and screamed as Chuck Spanner rubbed the huge thick 
head of his cock over her wet, defensively clenching vaginal slit. "NO! 
PLEASE! I'LL DO ANYTHING! PLEASE!" 

For an answer, Chuck gave a harsh laugh. "That's what I like. Beg a little 
more. You'll do anything?" 

"YES, OH, YES, ANYTHING! ANYTHINNNNNNNNNG!" Carol shouted. 

Chuck, savoring her helplessness as she lay under him spread-eagle, said, 
"Hey, you really mean it. Anything. How about this?" And, with that, he 
jerked his hips forward and his huge cock stretched the lips of her cunt 
until they went white, all the blood forced out of them, and Carol screamed 
and thought she would pass out from the pain that engulfed her body. "And 
this!" he grunted, flicking the swollen shaft a little deeper and Carol felt 
lightheaded and giddy and the strength was leaving her body and she could do 
nothing but scream, her mouth flung open as her head thrashed back and 
forth. 

"Go on and fuck her, Chuck," a woman's voice said, low and excited, "Fuck 
her like you did me. I want to see the snooty little bitch really get it!" 

The figures crowded closer, talking, their voices low as Chuck, conscious 
all were watching and waiting, said, "All right, let go of her, here it 
goes." And he exploded into action, his thick strong body hunched over her 
as he thrust heavily forward up between Carol's wide-stretched legs and 
began fucking in and out of her tight young cunt with a wild brutality. 

As the great cock sank into her and split her wide, skewering her, banging 
cruelly against her cervix to draw back for another mad rush deep inside of 
her, Carol thought she was going to lose her mind and that she would be 
literally split in two, ruined for life and she wailed and thrashed her 
naked body helplessly under him, the pain mounting, becoming so great she 
felt she would be crippled for life, going so deep she felt-she would never 
forget it. The pain sponged into her very fibers as Chuck Spanner's cock 
plowed deep, forcing her legs wider apart then it pulled out until just the 
brutal head remained plunged in her, the lips of her cunt stretched tight 
around the head and being folded out, overlapping, by its almost inhuman 
thickness. Then, with a maniacal fury, it plunged home, folding the tight 
lips inward, rolling her pubic hair down against the walls of her cunt. The 
pain became smoky, murky, mingling with the lewd, dormant pleasure that 
began to rise again. It seemed to feed on the pain, growing stronger and 
more intense, sending bolts of lewd, lascivious pleasure through her body, 
pleasure so sweet and intense, she never imagined such a thing could be. 
Then, magically, the pain became all pleasure! She was suddenly ecstatic and 
murmuring and her body was beginning to writhe in time to his brutal fucking 
between her widespread legs. 

"Look!" a woman breathed next to her, naked and crouching to see the 
lust-hardened cock ramming in and out of her, "The little snob's loving it!" 

Upstairs, in the master bedroom, Bill was sprawled on his back, his head 
propped on a pillow, his mouth hanging open from fatigue, his eyes half 
closed as he watched Muriel Abrams and Anne Spanner crouched on either side 
of him, their hands fondling each other's breasts while Anne with one hand, 
held his cock erect as the two of them bent and licked and sucked lovingly 
on it, nursing it back to an aching life. Jesus, he thought, this is going 
to go on all night! 

Lazily, he shifted his eyes to the screen which he could see over Anne's 
lovely fanning buttocks. Christ, he thought, it sounds like world war three 
down there. Somebody is getting fucked to death. He lay back, feeling the 
pleasure of the two women vying to suck his cock. Goddamn, Anne Spanner 
really delivered. This was great. 

Idly, he looked at the screen and watched as couples broke away from the 
ring on the floor, excited, finding their way to bedrooms to fuck. Let them 
come here, he thought, the more the merrier. 

He could see the couple they were all watching. Christ, he thought, they're 
going to kill each other. Look at them fuck! The girl's face was hidden from 
view but her body wasn't. It was covered, glistening with sweat and she was 
writhing, fucking, like her life depended on it. He had never seen anyone 
fuck like that. He had to get some of that action. And the guy, he was like 
a madman. 

Then, something made Bill prop himself up on one arm. He looked closely then 
the guy flung his head back as he lifted the girl's writhing buttocks clear 
off the floor and then slammed her down again. Christ, he thought, that's 
wild. Then his body tensed as he saw the man's face. 

Both the women felt him tense and looked up at him. He was pointing to the 
screen, his eyes wide. "That's him. Him! That's Chuck!" He looked at Anne. 
"That's your husband!" 

Anne and Muriel exchanged a lewd grin over his cock. "Yeah, so what?" 

"So what!" Bill pushed them away and scrambled to his feet and looked around 
for his clothes. "You said he was out of town, that's what! I saw him go!" 

Anne and Muriel were still lying naked on the bed, grinning at each other 
and then the screen. "Relax, everything is all right." 

"All right?" he asked, astounded. "Not with me, I'm getting out of here!" 

"Relax," Anne said, getting up lazily, her hand absently stroking Muriel's 
thigh. "Come on, let's have some more fun. Don't worry, you've paid your 
dues." 

Bill was on the floor, gathering up his clothing. "Paid my what? Paid my 
dues? What the hell are you talking about?" He paused and looked at the two 
women on the bed. They were stroking each other's bodies and grinning, 
exchanging some kind of obscene unsaid joke. 

Slowly, his eyes swung to the screen. His boss and the young, wildly excited 
woman was still fucking at an inhuman rate. Nobody could keep that up for 
long. He crawled across the floor toward the screen, forgetting his clothes. 
That lovely writhing undulating body under Chuck! He watched and, as he 
watched, saw Carol's, his wife's, lust contorted face, teeth gritting, 
thrash into view. 

With a bellow of rage, he was on his feet and running from the room, 
sprinting naked down the hall with the two women following as fast as they 
could. In his rage, he forgot where the romper room was as he rushed, 
bellowing and crashing into things and falling before he found the door to 
the romper room and flung it open and plunged down the dark stairs with the 
women right behind him shouting a warning. 

He was tackled by two men before he could get halfway across the room and he 
struggled with all his might, flinging bodies away as more piled on. He was 
almost incoherent as he bellowed, "That's my, it's my, my wife, damn you 
all!" 

All his fighting was in vain, there were too many of them and he found 
himself pinioned by arms, helpless to do anything but watch as Carol and 
Chuck Spanner fucked wildly away, oblivious to all the noise and struggle, 
Carol with a blissful little smile on her lips as she let Chuck batter his 
hardened cock deep into her naked body and she felt an orgasm mounting. Bill 
watched, his arms pinned, tears of rage and frustration in his eyes. 

Anne Spanner, a smile on her lips, making her look like a lewd wild witch, 
put her lips next to his ear and he felt her hands on his cock. "Watch," she 
whispered, "watch your wife get fucked. She's loving it!" 

He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head helplessly away. Anne had his 
cock between the palms of her hands and was rolling it around. Her wet 
tongue licked into his ear. "Watch," she hissed, "Oh, that is beautiful, 
she's loving it. Look how tight her little cunt lips are around my husband's 
cock, look how much she wants it. Look, she's going to cum!" 

Despite himself, he opened his eyes and looked and felt his cock growing 
hard under her expert ministrations. A feeling came over him, a feeling so 
lewd and depraved and licentious! A feeling of complete depravity and 
freedom such as he had never felt before! He watched his wife writhing and 
bucking and grinding her hips up to get more of Chuck Spanner's cock and 
felt himself excited as he never had been before! 

And, as he watched, Muriel dropped to her knees in front of him and sucked 
hard on his cock and Chuck, on the floor, grunted and looked up and grinned. 
Taking Carol's lovely small body in his arms, he started rolling them over, 
his cock buried deep. Carol, panting, went with him until she was on top of 
him, on her knees, her buttocks split wide and the sight of her tiny 
puckered anus exposed nakedly to everyone in the room. 

A man started forward, his erect cock in his hand. "No!" Anne Spanner 
called. "Let Bill fuck her there!" Without a word the man stopped and 
everyone looked at Bill. He felt the strong restraining arms falling away 
and Muriel stopped sucking and sank to the floor, grinning up at him. 

Bill moved like an animal. He knew what to do, he knew what everyone wanted 
him to do and he knew what he wanted to do and, more, he knew what Carol 
wanted him to do as her firm, rounded young buttocks stroked hungrily up and 
down on Chuck's thick shaft! He was on his knees, behind her, his cock in 
his hand as he stroked the head of it on her tiny tight anus. 

Carol stopped all movement and was still, waiting. He put the head on her 
anus and Carol caught it with the crevice of her buttocks, displaying 
amazing muscular control. His hands gripped her hips and his nails dug in. 
They were still, frozen in a tableau. There was silence in the room until 
Carol, breathing hard, her voice hoarse, whispered, "Do it, fuck me in the 
ass! FUCK ME!" and she screwed her buttocks up against the head of his cock. 
"HURT ME!" 

With a low growl, Bill leaned his weight and felt her tiny, hairless little 
anus slowly giving way. For a split second, nothing seemed to happen then, 
with an almost slight farting sound, the head of his cock popped past the 
tight elastic ring of her anal opening and Carol, mouth wide, eyes bugging, 
screamed and her arms flew out and she tried to reach behind her. Bill 
seized her wrists and held her in place. The helplessness of her position 
thrilled him in a sadistic way and he used her arms as a lever to force her 
head down and her buttocks up higher. Her tight, defensively clenched anal 
muscles squeezed so tight around his slightly buried cockhead he thought he 
couldn't bear the pain. Gripping her wrists tighter and forcing her arms up 
her back, he gritted his teeth and ground his cock a little deeper, hearing 
her scream and plead but feeling a wild insane joy at so humiliating his 
wife, sodomizing her like a whore in front of so many perfect strangers. She 
would never deny him anything again. Never! Anything he wanted from her hot 
little body was his from now on! 

A victorious laugh escaped his tensed lips and he sunk his cock deeper into 
her expanded and tortured anus, feeling Chuck Spanner's hardened cock 
separated from his by only a thin membrane of flesh. Wildly, not really 
hearing or caring about her screams, he began fucking crazily in and out of 
her rectum as he felt Chuck plunging deep into her cunt and she was battered 
back and forth, helpless, moaning, screaming, pleading as he forced her 
helplessly squirming buttocks down and felt the exhilaration of sinking his 
cock all the way in her anus as he fucked with his head thrown back, fucked 
with a wild abandon and felt her mewing as sweat flew from her body as she 
was tossed and thrown about and, with a roar, he felt Chuck cumming, spewing 
hot sperm into her cunt then, with a wail, felt her body tense with 
superhuman strength as she came and kept coming as he fucked as hard as he 
could into her tight now hungrily milking asshole and felt himself cumming, 
filling Carol's bowels almost to the bursting point, his eyes rolling back 
in his head. Never had he felt such a joyful lewd orgasm as he fell away and 
crashed, in seeming slow motion, to the floor, and later, raised bleary eyes 
to see writhing bodies, naked and sweating all over the romper room. Another 
strange, naked body grinding away hotly between his young wife's widespread 
and welcoming legs. 

 CHAPTER 9 

It was late Saturday morning. The sun was streaming in the bedroom window 
and a new and different Carol Murcer was lying on the bed, wearing only a 
housecoat. From the bathroom came the sound of a shower pounding. Carol 
rolled over and sipped from the bloody mary Bill had brought her and gave a 
little groan. "Hair of the dog," she murmured then lay back with a smile, 
admiring their new home they were able to afford since Bill had been 
promoted. 

In the last six months, their life had changed so much she scarcely 
recognized herself. Her face was slightly more mature now, with little lines 
around the mouth and morning after, circles beginning under the eyes. It was 
a hard life now, with a constant stream of parties and friends over for " a 
little fun." The hours were late and the drinking fast and furious and it 
seemed that everybody they knew smoked pot and hashish. 

She couldn't remember the last night that had gone by when she hadn't had 
sex. Sometimes, it was as many as four different men a night. Sometimes, she 
felt she couldn't be satisfied. Chuck had got her and Bill to perform in a 
stag film and that had been a kick. Muriel was becoming more of a dyke by 
the week and had propositioned her and she was beginning to think she might 
try it. Bill said he wanted to watch. And Anne, wild Anne, wanted her to go 
out, just the two of them, to some cheap bar and pick up a couple of truck 
drivers or stevedores, just for the kick. And it was beginning to seem like 
a good idea. 

Yet, on mornings like this, hung over, Carol was beginning to wonder. It all 
seemed so desperate; each time a new kick or thrill was needed to get any 
satisfaction. It all seemed like they were heading headlong toward some 
terrible disaster and, at times, a cold shudder would rack her body. 

Yet, they were living well, had a new home and car and plenty of swinging 
friends. Then, the phone rang, interrupting her thoughts as Bill was coming 
out of the shower, toweling himself. She grinned at him, knowing the game 
they played whenever she answered the phone. "Hello? Hi, Chuck!" she said as 
she grinned up at Bill who came over and sat on the bed and ran his hand up 
under her housecoat. "What? Oh, yeah? Our turn? I don't know. Of course 
we'll try." 

She grinned lewdly and spread her legs slightly as Bill's fingers played 
with her vagina. The game was: not to let the caller know what was going on. 
"What? Oh, honey," she breathed as his forefinger slid in and she felt an 
excitement and moistness mount. She spread her legs a little more and her 
lips began a little pumping motion. "What? Oh, nothing, nothing at all." She 
looked at Bill and bit her lips against a giggle. "Okay, I'll tell Bill and 
I'm ssure hhe'll ccome up with ssomething. What? Nothing! Chuck, would I 
l-lie to you?" She giggled and hung up as Bill opened the folds of her gown 
and she lay naked from the waist down. 

"What did he want?" he asked as he went on playing with her open pussy. 

"He says its our turn to bring some people into the club?" 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah. Oh, baby." 

"Got any ideas?" 

"Plenty." 

"So have I." He stood up. "Let's get undressed and discuss them." 


THE END
