The Abandoned Housewife
by Myra Kaine 


FOREWORD 

Most Americans will agree that the rising tide of blatant sexuality in our 
country has gone to extremes far beyond what anyone could have dreamed of 
even one generation ago. Many of us applaud the relaxation of Victorian 
moral standards, but the more thoughtful members of our society often 
question just how far this new openness can be allowed to go. 

At a recent conference on sexuality in one of the larger Midwestern cities, 
the famous physicians present conceded that our more relaxed attitudes are a 
"tremendous improvement". However, although we seem to have overcome 
Puritanical fears of our own bodies, there seems to be a lack of ability to 
be able to speak of the spiritual aspects of love between males and females. 
Attitudes have gone so far away from old-fashioned prudery that the 
physicians feared some of the younger generation are becoming like animals 
in a laboratory, with a totally anatomical and mechanical outlook on the 
most intimate aspect of life. 

Naturally, these extremes of permissiveness are causing concerned people to 
worry about what is to come, and about how people will react to the loosened 
moral standards. We, the publishers, are pleased to present our readers with 
Myra Kaine's latest work, The Abandoned Housewife. After extensive research 
in the suburbs of a large city, she has written a fictional account, based 
on facts, of just how the new sexuality has affected one modern couple in 
their day-to-day existence. We are proud to publish his thought-provoking 
study of still another aspect of contemporary mores, and we are certain that 
the mature adult reader will find this work worthy of his attention. 

-The Publishers 

 CHAPTER ONE 

Terry Dawson awoke languidly, stretching luxuriously in the snug bed of her 
strip cabin. Ever since she had been a little girl, she had dreamed of going 
to Hawaii again, and finally the dream had come true. It was just too good 
to believe it was true, but she and her husband Bill were now on their way 
home from that island paradise, their bodies bronzed by the endless sunshine 
and the hikes up mountains and around coral beaches. 

Long before Terry had grown to be a woman, married Bill Dawson, and settled 
down in Sunnyvale, she had been a little girl on the magical island of Oahu. 
She had fished and swam and sailed and passed marvelous childhood years at 
the naval base at Pearl Harbor. But then that fateful December day had 
come--that day when little Terry had seen ominous planes circling overhead. 
Suddenly sirens were wailing, people yelling, and the jeeps had taken them 
up into the hills, all the women and children. And in a few days, she and 
her mother took a boat home to California, and for nearly thirty years, 
Hawaii became a dream-like memory. 

The Dawsons talked of this pilgrimage back to Oahu for many years, always 
poring over maps and books, but somehow they could never get up quite enough 
money to actually go. Until finally it had happened! And, despite the fact 
that little Honolulu and Waikiki had become huge and smoggy cities, despite 
the fact that the luaus were commercialized, that the huge hotels dominated 
the once-virgin beaches, that the roast pig tasted suspiciously like tinned 
ham . . . well, everything has to change sometime. It's still been the most 
marvelous vacation of our whole life, Terry said resolutely to herself, and 
smiled happily. 

The lovely, brunette woman tossed off the covers and jumped to her feet, not 
being one to spend all morning in her bed. She smiled down at her 
still-snoring husband, his tousled hair in blond curls on the pillow, and 
she tenderly replaced the sheet and blanket around his shoulders. 

Terry walked to the porthole window and looked out at the gentle sea quickly 
going by underneath their ship. It was a beautiful clear day, with the sun 
shining brightly on the seemingly endless ocean. Glancing down at the clock 
on the nightstand, Terry considered waking her sleeping husband, but then 
decided to leave him alone. After all, at home in Sunnyvale, he would have 
to once again get up at seven a.m., driving all the way to Menlo Park for 
his job at the airplane parts factory. 

Terry was standing naked, having slipped off her short pink nylon nightgown, 
and wondering what to put on to wear above deck on her last day aboard ship, 
when she became aware of eyes upon her dark-tanned, voluptuously curved 
youthful body. She smiled at her good-looking husband. 

"So you finally woke up, you lazy old bear," she said playfully, continuing 
to rummage through the clothes closet for her favorite strapless white 
sundress. 

"Don't you dare put anything on," Bill commanded in a threatening tone, his 
eyes smiling. "I like you best just exactly the way you are right this 
minute!" Leaping out of bed, he approached his brunette wife from behind, 
squeezing her around the middle, and eagerly fondling her large rounded 
breasts. Terry leaned happily against her muscular husband's shoulder and 
turned her face upward to be kissed. His mouth brushed against hers and then 
hungrily kissed her soft lips, while his left hand caressed her breast. His 
right hand slowly dropped from her breast to brush lower and lower against 
her taut belly; finally his fingertips teased against the curly hairs of her 
pubic mound. She moaned in happy surrender, her teeth nipping gently on his 
earlobe as his hand slowly reached lower and lower. 

Bill reached toward his wife's thighs, and unhesitantly they parted. His 
fingers probed against the moist bud of her clitoris and reached further up 
into the warm hidden confines of her pussy. 

She laughed gently, half-moaning with her own mounting desire. "Aren't you 
ever satiated, my darling?" she whispered seductively. 

"No, no, never!" came his husky voice; his lips descended onto the sensitive 
flesh of her neck, and she squirmed in delight. Hot shivers coursed up her 
spine as his mouth hungrily sucked at her white flesh. "I'll never get 
enough!" he exclaimed again, "and neither will you, baby! Shall we get back 
into bed, or ... " he paused suggestively for an instant, "Or against the 
wall?" 

Terry turned and faced him, the lush curves of her body silhouetted against 
the porthole sunlight that streamed through. Her upthrust breasts pushed 
against his naked torso as her arms reached around him to pull his hungry 
body even more tightly against her own. "Anywhere, baby," she murmured. 
"Anywhere you want, as long as you want! Oh, Bill, I'll always want you so 
much!" 

Bill's hands smoothed over the tantalizing mounds of her firm naked 
buttocks, marveling as always at the lush beauty of his wife's girlish body. 
He kneaded the warm white skin of her ass-cheeks, looking down pleasurably 
at the inciting contrast of her snow-white buttocks against the darkness of 
her torso and legs. His fingers spread apart the half-moons of her behind. 

Terry groaned in delicious anticipation as Bill rolled her with dexterity 
back onto the narrow cabin berth, and her legs opened involuntarily, eager 
to receive the throbbing male hardness of her husband. The full-bodied woman 
raised her knees up to her breasts, exposing the full expanse of her moistly 
throbbing pussy flesh, and her arms reached up for her husband. 

"Fuck me, Bill," she whispered. "Fuck me so good. Let's make this the best 
time in our whole beautiful vacation!" And, silently, Terry hoped that, just 
this once, she could have a real orgasm. 

He ran his fingers over her back and down to her buttocks, letting his hands 
revel on the firm skin, his loins tingling and his entire body trembling at 
the feel of her silken nakedness. He could barely see her, close as he was, 
and he was not in the least worried about anyone else, on any part of the 
ship, hearing them. It was as though they were totally alone in the Pacific 
Ocean on their magical raft. He was seized with the maddening lust to ravish 
this wondrously beautiful brunette woman who was his wife. 

He moved his face closer to her body, finding her firm full breasts, which 
he had fondled so many times before. They responded to his kisses with an 
instant hardening of the pink nipples. He passed his fingers along their 
bulging sides, from her ribs to the points of the nipples, lightly, with a 
feather-soft touch. And then he bit one pink tip of a nipple so that Terry 
gasped and clasped his head more tightly. 

With a pulsing in his lower loins, he squeezed her nakedness to him, his 
hand slithering down her firm belly and between her full-fleshed thighs. It 
found the warm soft lips of her moistly dripping pussy, and her thighs 
parted again with a little moan from her throat. His fingertips squeezed the 
little bud of her clitoris beneath the sparse damp curls of her pubic hair 
and she began to wriggle her shapely hips in little contracting movements, 
as if she were fighting to control her burning passion. 

She lay back on the bed, her body racked with heaving breath. She was full 
of vigor and desire. Frantic with impatience, the young wife squirmed her 
unspoken reply to his lust. She drew her thighs up instinctively and when 
she reached down, he felt her cool hand on his bloated cock-shaft. Her hand 
sent a stab of shock into his rigid flesh, and his organ moved toward her 
hair-lined vaginal furrow until he could feel the moist fleshy warmth 
throbbing against his cock, waiting for his entry. 

"Oh, Bill, darling, darling," she whispered in a hoarse tone, her mind 
reeling from the incredible sensations his touch on her nakedness was giving 
to her. Her eyes were closed tightly as she floated through a timeless 
space, her only touch with reality being the shivering electronic sensations 
that radiated from his throbbing cock against her shamelessly lustful 
pussy-lips. He rocked his muscular hips forward and the head of his turgid 
penis eased between the soft fleshy folds as the cuntal walls tightly 
constricted around him. He felt her body tense as he pushed forcibly, 
feeling suddenly as though he were once again stealing her virginity, as 
though it once again were their wedding night. 

And then, "Aaaaaggghhh!" she cried as he shoved his swollen cock forward 
with all the strength and desire of a lustful bridegroom. Suddenly he wanted 
to hurt her, to possess her, to show her his ultimate strength and power. 
But this urge was quickly swept away by the deliciousness of her smoothly 
wet pussy-walls giving way like warm butter as he eased deeply up into her 
cunt. 

He groaned as he felt her pussy squeezing with painful tightness along the 
length of his throbbing cock, which seemed to expand and expand until it was 
at the absolute bursting point. 

"Oh, darling, my dearest," she repeated mindlessly as she bucked and writhed 
underneath him on the ship's berth. Her face moved from side to side, marks 
appearing on her lips where her teeth had bit into them, and every so often 
her mouth pressed against his own, and her teeth bit into his lip. She 
sucked hungrily against his tongue, her hoarse breath warm and sensual, 
panting into his throat. 

Her legs, on either side of his impaling loins, were jerking and writhing 
like marionettes gone out of control, in wild abandonment. He felt their 
warm pressure as they gripped him tightly. She gripped her strong husband, 
then loosened her grip, pulling her fleshy limbs up to her shoulders and 
then to spread them wildly out at right angles to her hips, continuously 
moaning and gasping in obscene passion. 

She was out of control, out of touch with reality, totally mindless of 
anything except the deliciously painful skewering she was receiving from the 
man she loved. 

The impassioned brunette housewife's eyes were closed; all the time her 
mouth trembled and her neck strained backwards until it could go no further, 
thrust in the intensity of her uncontrollable feeling. 

The exquisite pain of his initial entry over, her own juices lubricated the 
tight constrictive passage of her seething pussy folds, and the agonizing 
jolts soon became rippling and rolling waves of unchecked ecstasy that broke 
over her nakedly squirming body beneath her impassioned husband. 

Bill was conscious of absolutely no part of his virile body but his heavy, 
overly-full cock which moved deeply in and out of Terry's lovingly clasping 
little cunt that was so enthusiastically wrapped around the full virile 
length of his aching manhood. He rotated his fingers over the naked plane of 
her firm buttocks, squeezing the soft and resilient flesh between his 
digits, pulling her nakedly grinding torso tight against his impassioned 
loins. Flames of desire for his wife raged hopelessly out of control now. 
Her pussy was gripping his aching cock like a vise and milking it with a 
contrastingly gentle expertise in the most skilled and erotically perfect 
manner possible. Oh! It was so achingly, desperately good ... he wanted it 
to go on forever, yet his throbbing cock told him he wanted to explode, 
wanted to cum soon into his wife's delicately gripping cuntal folds. 

He felt the softly pulsating lips of hair-fringed cuntal flesh around her 
pussy, touching his swollen cock, moving into her in long, ever-deeper 
strokes. 

He pounded faster now, pinching the tight folds with his in-stroke, causing 
her to cry out in an oddly exciting mixture of pleasure and fearful pain. 
She was almost whining beneath his striving body, and the heat radiating 
from her sweat-soaked naked flesh seemed to envelop them both in cloudy 
steam. Terry was alive with the intensity of her savage and untethered 
passion, with every inch of her flesh tingling. Nothing mattered now, 
nothing but her big lustful husband sticking his hard shaft deeper and 
deeper up into the all-too-willing confines of her hungry cunt. 

The eager young wife was impaled, helplessly impaled, and she adored the 
feeling it gave her, reveling in the salacious thrill of the moment. She 
wished it would never end . . . would never end . . . never. And yet, the 
sensation that had begun to build deep within the pit of her tautly 
straining belly told her that she longed for it to end. Increasing her 
effort, Terry thrust her pelvis forward to meet her husband's loins. She 
twisted and writhed from side to side, reaching further upwards towards his 
pistoning cock, clenching his buttocks so tightly that every down-thrust 
movement sent his eager cock against her sensitively aching cervix. 

Terry Dawson opened her mouth and groaned in impassioned abandonment. "Oh 
darling Bill!" she cried out. "I'm going to cum!" The sensations in her 
belly built further and further; harder and harder the young wife strove for 
her climax, sucking her husband's cock deep up into her throbbing cunt as 
though she would never let it go. 

Bill felt the sudden loosening and clamping of her vaginal muscles, as his 
impassioned wife thrust against his loins, striving to imprison his cock 
further and further up in the confines of her aching belly. 

Terry's words became a delirious babble, and her tight passage clamped so 
deliciously around his thrusting cock that Bill knew he could only stand 
this incredibly exciting sensation for a few more seconds! Hot and 
pulsating, he quickened the rate of his thrusts, and Terry continued to 
moan, gripping his buttocks with her strong thighs and fingers, rolling her 
pelvis back and forth on the long shaft of his male hardness. 

Bill felt his own passion climbing to a soaring pinnacle of sensation beyond 
any words, a sensation centered at the very tip of his glans, sensation in 
the aching knob of his throbbing organ. "Oh . . . ohhh," he grunted, slowing 
his stroke into a long and deep thrust far up into her warmly welcoming 
young belly. His stomach and loins smacked firmly against the soft pink 
flanges of her cuntal furrow and his balls ground tightly into the upraised 
curve of her buttocks. 

"Ohhhhhh," he groaned once again as Bill felt the pressure in his testicles 
give way and the pent-up flood of sperm begin to explode. With a savage 
motion, Bill pulled Terry's thighs back to her shoulders, hearing her moan 
passionately, wildly. 

With a sudden wet, warm relief, Bill shot his hot load of fluid into his 
squirming and moaning wife, a flood of pent-up semen that spurted again and 
again into her desperately sucking pussy, draining him of all his burning 
desire. 

Again and again he thrust, until he collapsed, spent and trembling, against 
his wife's still hungrily thrusting body. 

For several minutes more, Terry strove against her now-quiet husband, but 
somehow the release she had felt to be so close had eluded her young body. 
She put her arms around him and lay quietly, fighting the hot tears which 
came to her eyes, fighting the resentment that she knew was wrong. 

"I'm sorry, baby," came her husband's satiated voice. "I'll try harder next 
time, but you're so good, you're just so good I've got to cum when you do 
that to me." 

Terry nodded and kissed her husband on the forehead, not trusting her voice 
because of the hot lump she felt burning in her throat. And then she lay 
back against his strong shoulder until the burning feelings in her stomach 
dissipated, trying to forget her feelings of frustration and disappointment. 

* * * 

When Bill and Terry finally emerged on the ship deck, they were just in time 
for the second serving of lunch. They had a light but elegant meal of Shrimp 
Louis with sourdough bread and white wine, and then went up on the sun deck 
to enjoy the swimming pool and once again expose their bodies to the 
life-giving rays that seemed to shine far more brightly on the Pacific than 
any place else in the world. 

Only when, late that afternoon, Terry and the other passengers began to 
strain their eyes to make out the distant shore of San Francisco, did a 
nagging little doubt really enter her mind. Ever since they left Sunnyvale 
twenty-one days ago, Terry had been pushing this doubt to the furthermost 
recesses of her mind. "I just won't think about money," she would say to 
herself resolutely. "I'll think about money when I go home, but not in 
Hawaii. It won't be a real vacation if I have to worry." 

But now, with the shore of San Francisco drawing ever closer, it was no 
longer so easy to push away the thought that kept raising its ugly head: 
what would they do about money? Convincing Bill to take this much-needed 
vacation had been hard enough, and goodness only knew that he didn't need to 
be reminded how much it had cost them. They almost never quarreled, but 
when, on rare occasions, they had spoken harshly to one another, Bill 
reminded Terry that she was a "rich man's brat with too-damned expensive 
tastes". 

Terry sighed, leaning over the railing of the ship, admiring the rich dark 
wood and the polished brass. Bill was right, she supposed. Her daddy had 
made quite a lot of money, or at least a lot compared to the way she and 
Bill lived now, which was very comfortable, but far from wealthy. Still, 
Bill was a good man, and she'd surely rather have a husband who worked hard 
and loved her a lot, than a handsome, rich, alcoholic, woman-chaser like her 
dad had been. Or so she told herself, standing on the side of the ship. 

Things would work out, Terry reassured herself. Things always did, if you 
tried hard enough. She'd just go to the bank and get a loan, but whatever 
she did, she wouldn't let Bill worry about it. 

The brunette, having made this decision, left her place by the ship-rail and 
returned to her husband, who was still stretched out on the deck next to the 
swimming pool. She kissed him tenderly, memories of the morning still very 
much with her, and they went down to their cabin to pack up their bags. 

Several hours later, the ship had docked in the busy San Francisco harbor, 
and the young couple, arms laden with suitcases and souvenirs, followed the 
line of sun-tanned Californians down the gang plank, sad that their journey 
had come to an end, but also glad to be back on nice firm soil. Soon their 
land legs were working again; they fetched their Chevrolet from the 
underground parking lot and filled it with suitcases. Driving on the 
familiar freeway toward Sunnyvale, Terry leaned against her husband happily. 
"Oh Bill, I'm so glad we went!" he exclaimed. 

Bill smiled down at his dark-haired wife, but his face was thoughtful. "It 
was great, babe, but I'm glad to be home," he replied. "I had to give the 
guy in the garage twenty bucks just for keeping the car, and I had to tip 
the purser another ten, and I'm sure I must have forgotten somebody else who 
needed a tip. A package vacation costs more than you think it does!" 

"Oh darling!" exclaimed Terry. "I don't want you to worry the least little 
bit about the money. After all, we haven't had a vacation for five years! 
Not a real vacation, anyway!" She snuggled closer to him. "You let me worry 
about that, ok?" 

 CHAPTER TWO 

"My dear girl when did you ever get home? And how was your marvelous 
vacation?" 

Terry Dawson looked up in surprise. She and Bill had only lived in Sunnyvale 
for a year, and she expected to meet no one she knew at the Benevolent 
Finance Company office, of all places. In fact, for just a moment, she felt 
rather embarrassed. When Terry had grown up in Newport Beach, her parents 
certainly never went to finance offices; if they ran out of money, why them 
simply telephoned the broker and had him sell some of their stock, and no 
matter how often it happened, there was always more stock to sell. 

Looking down at Terry was a handsome older woman, perhaps forty of 
forty-five years old. She was smartly dressed, in a tailored summer suit, 
and her blonde hair was stylishly cut. In fact, from a slight distance, the 
woman could have passed for a college coed. 

"Elaine Travis! It's so good to see you again!" exclaimed Terry in happy 
surprise. "Our vacation was simply splendid. But I haven't seen you for 
ages; how did you possibly know we were away?" 

"Oh darling, this isn't a city, you know! Things get around." The older 
woman smoothed her hair back from her carefully made-up face in a casual but 
elegant gesture. "Jake and I had just been saying to each other that we must 
see more of you two, so isn't it a lucky coincidence to run into you now!" 

Terry smiled again, but she wasn't so sure it was really so lucky. Elaine 
Travis was the first person she and Bill had met when they moved to 
Sunnyvale, but as the Travises were of a wealthier and wilder social group, 
Bill had preferred not to see much of them. A little reluctantly, Terry had 
agreed, but she'd always felt a special sort of friendship for Elaine, the 
first friend she'd made in Sunnyvale. 

"Have you had lunch dear?" asked Elaine. "Shall we go to Lyons?" 

"Well..." Terry hesitated. She couldn't really think of any good reason not 
to, even though Bill might not like the idea of her going out to lunch. "I'd 
love to, Elaine," she replied, "but I'm still waiting to talk to Mr. 
Morganthaler about this loan ..." 

Elaine Travis frowned curiously at her younger friend, sensing something 
unspoken. "You come to lunch and tell me about it all," she commanded 
briskly. "I'm sure you'll feel better then, and if you still want to, you 
can go back to Mr. Morganthaler then. 

* * * 

Elaine listened very sympathetically as they sipped bloody Mary's at Lyons, 
and Terry found she was all too anxious to talk with another woman. Three 
weeks alone in Hawaii with Bill had certainly been wonderful, but there are 
some things that one just needs to talk about with a female friend. Terry 
seldom would admit to herself that she was lonesome in suburban Sunnyvale, 
with Bill away nearly all the time working at the Dempster Corporation where 
he had made airplane parts ever since they moved to the Bay Area. But it was 
true; she was lonely, lonely for the social life her parents enjoyed and she 
had expected to enjoy when she grew up. Instead, in her neighborhood there 
were coffee klatches with inevitably boring conversations and very little 
else. 

"If it isn't too personal, my dear," asked Elaine's purring voice, "I wonder 
what your business is with Mr. Morganthaler? You and Bill aren't starting a 
business, are you?" 

"Well, Elaine," began the younger brunette woman, "to tell the truth, it's a 
personal loan I need. I... I didn't know it would be so frightfully 
expensive to go on this vacation. We saved up for so long and then we took 
the boat instead of flying because we wanted to economize, but..." Her words 
trailed off in embarrassment. 

"But it cost more, actually, to take the boat, didn't it?" broke in the 
older woman sympathetically. "It always does, of course, unless you 
absolutely fast the entire trip! And then, of course, you have to tip 
everyone! My goodness, it must have been quite expensive!" 

"It was," Terry replied hesitantly. "I mean, we loved every single minute of 
it, but now there isn't any money left in the bank. In fact..." The 
dark-haired woman's tanned complexion turned pink with embarrassment. "In 
fact, we're overdrawn at Northern California Savings and Loan, and I'm just 
afraid to tell Bill! I was hoping I could get a loan so we could pay back 
slowly and not worry about it quite so soon." 

The waiter interrupted their conversation by bringing in two plates of 
chicken with mushrooms and rice. Elaine and Terry began to eat, and Elaine 
continued to half-listen to Terry's conversation and half-ignore it as a 
little plan came to her mind. If this pretty young girl needed money, Elaine 
was sure her husband Jake would be more than willing to help out, that is, 
if he could get a little out of it himself. A little out of it, and she sure 
didn't mean money. Elaine speared a piece of chicken and smiled 
thoughtfully. 

Unlike most of the couples of their age and income bracket, Elaine and Jake 
Travis had long ago discovered a foolproof way to keep their marriage and 
their career exciting, both at the same time. First, they knew everyone in 
Sunnyvale who was worth knowing, and countless people all around the Bay 
Area. Out of so many people, they reasoned, some would swing, and again and 
again, their reasoning had proven correct. And, to supplement their income, 
they would arrange occasions that made it easier for people who wanted to 
swing to do so. It was all so easy, once you knew how, to get people to do 
almost anything! 

Watching Terry, sensing her boredom and loneliness above and beyond her 
immediate need for cash. Elaine decided that perhaps she really could help 
this younger woman. And wouldn't her husband Jake bless her for it! Jake was 
a good guy, and he really had some hidden assets that made him worth a lot 
more than what they had in the bank which in itself was considerable enough 
. . . like that fine tool hanging between his strong and hairy thighs. Sure 
she wanted a change occasionally, and Jake did too ... it was healthy, she 
reasoned, to like variety, but it was sure as hell good to have a big hard 
cock to come home to. A hard man is good to find, she always said. 

As Elaine's thoughts had strayed elsewhere, and she had been only vaguely 
listening to Terry's worried tale, there was a sudden and uncomfortable 
silence when the younger woman finished speaking. Terry Dawson looked up, 
awaiting some response for her friend Elaine. 

"Well, my goodness," gushed Elaine Travis, rising to the occasion she had 
just begun to forget, "it certainly sounds like a splendid trip you had. 
After all, young couples aren't trotting off to Hawaii at the drop of a hat 
like you and Bill did! You should consider yourselves lucky. But this little 
money problem will have to be cleared up, won't it? How much do you owe, 
exactly?" 

"A-A thousand dollars," came Terry's voice. 

"There was a letter in the mail this morning from the bank, and we're 
overdrawn a thousand dollars! I asked the girl at the desk about a loan, and 
she said I should talk to Mr. Morganthaler ..." 

"But Terry," said Elaine smoothly, "you know you can never get a loan 
without your husband's signature! Even single women have very difficult 
problems getting loans, and as for a married woman who is simply a housewife 
..." Her words trailed off, leaving her unspoken meaning very obvious. Terry 
squirmed in her chair at the words. Things seemed more bleak than every. 

Continuing in her silken smooth voice, the attractive blonde said, "Besides, 
dear, you oughtn't to owe any more money, and you'll only have to pay 
interest on a loan. Haven't you considered working yourself?" 

"Well," Terry hesitated. She knew she would sound silly, antiquated, really, 
to say she liked to stay at home and putter about in her garden. My 
goodness, that made her sound old, much older than this ravishing and 
fashionable woman across the table from her who must be at least ten years 
her senior! "Bill won't let me work," she continued lamely. "He says a 
woman's place is in the home. He's a little old-fashioned, I guess." 

My heavens, thought Terry to herself, what's wrong with me anyway? Can't I 
stand up for my own husband? I don't have to apologize, do I? Do I? 

"I can certainly speak with experience," Elaine said. "Jake and I have 
borrowed money for one of our companies from Benevolent, and their interest 
rates would send you right up the wall, I'm afraid, if you could even manage 
to get a loan, and of course you would first have to tell your husband all 
about it." 

As her words sunk into the worried brunette's mind, Elaine spoke again. "But 
of course, Terry dear, there is an alternative. If Mr. Morganthaler can't 
work out something to your liking... if you even want to ask him at all, I 
surely can find you a job. You're a very attractive woman. I know Bill 
wouldn't mind if you worked on a very occasional schedule. Not all the time, 
you know. After all, it's better to earn money and not tell him than it is 
to borrow and not tell him." 

Terry finished the last of her chicken. Her mind was buzzing with unformed 
decisions. No, she couldn't lie to Bill; she couldn't do it. It would hurt 
his pride so much to have his wife working! But, she thought grimly, someone 
would have to bring home the bacon; Bill was a good provider and all, but 
they needed more than his salary! Much more! 

"I'll. . . I'll think about it, Elaine," she finally answered. Elaine smiled 
graciously, and then the two women seemingly forgot the matter entirely as 
they ordered coffee and a sinfully caloric dessert, and they entered into a 
long talk about the Sunnyvale Golf Club's current fashion showing. 

* * * 

However, after a half-hour talk with Mr. Morganthaler in his wood-paneled 
office, Terry's mind turned again to Elaine's idea. Mr. Morganthaler was 
helpful enough and certainly more than friendly, but very insistent that, 
without her husband's signature, Terry would not be eligible for a loan of 
any kind. And even if she had his signature, the hundred and thirty-two 
dollar monthly payment would be nearly impossible on their tight budget. The 
interest alone was enough to turn Terry's mind away from a loan! 

Sitting in the Benevolent Finance office, ' 

Terry weighed the possible alternatives in her mind. And she knew that no 
matter what, she just couldn't tell Bill about the money they owed to the 
bank. Poor Bill had enough to worry about, that was certain. But how had she 
ever gotten into such a dilemma? And how would she get out? Only yesterday 
she and Bill hadn't had a worry in the whole world! 

More and more, it began to look to Terry Dawson as though Providence herself 
had sent down Elaine Travis, just at the point when she needed a helping 
hand. 

* * * 

Elaine sounded just like a helpful big sister when Terry finally telephoned 
her late that afternoon, and the younger woman felt supremely grateful to 
have a lap to lay her problems onto. "I'm sure you can straighten out this 
whole confusion without even involving your husband. I know you'd rather not 
tell him, but even if he knew, I'm sure he'd be proud of you for being so 
resourceful," she said in a concerned voice. 

Terry brightened at her words. "Just tell me what I have to do, Elaine," she 
said, infinitely relieved at finding a solution, even a slightly deceitful 
solution to this terrible tangle she'd gotten into. "I'm willing to do 
anything to straighten this out without having to worry Bill! Anything!" 

Elaine smiled to herself, hearing Terry's childlike enthusiasm over the 
telephone. So you're willing to do anything, baby, she thought to herself. 
Well, that's just what I've got in mind for you! 

 CHAPTER THREE 

When Terry Dawson had telephoned her friend Elaine Travis, and had believed 
she had found a ready solution to the terrible dilemma she had happened to 
find herself in, she had never really and truly imagined just what Elaine 
would have in store for her. If she had any conjectures at all, they were 
vague and simple ones; perhaps typing envelopes at home on her old Olivetti 
standard; perhaps working in an office in nearby San Jose. In fact, come to 
think of it, Terry really had no idea how Elaine and Jake made their 
ostentatiously comfortable living. She had never thought it was polite to 
ask such very personal questions. But if anyone had told her just exactly 
what sort of work Elaine had in mind for her to do, she would never, never 
have believed them. 

Yet here she was, she thought ruefully, here she was, wearing an extremely 
tight blue turtleneck pullover, a too-short skirt, platform shoes of patent 
leather, and an open blazer jacket. She felt like one of those insipidly 
smiling girls one sees on airplanes, the ones who constantly are holding up 
the lifesaving apparatus and, in monotonous tones, instructing all the bored 
passengers just how to save their lives when the plane decides to crash. But 
at least those girls, she thought, are going someplace. They're leading 
exciting and glamorous lives, and meeting interesting men, and then they all 
get married and. . . 

Terry Dawson tried to laugh, at the absurd mental picture of her own self 
standing here thus outfitted, and with a smile pasted broadly across her 
still darkly sunburned features. She was positioned near a large table 
bearing dishes of hors d'oeuvres, and close behind her was a bar where a 
young man, also in a blue blazer jacket, was serving drinks. Above the bar 
hung a sign: "Welcome: Lighters, Katayama Incorporated. 

Since the telephone call she had had with Elaine Travis, Terry had certainly 
had her misgivings about working, even though it had seemed by far the most 
acceptable alternative which was even available to the young brunette wife. 
This was a way out, a way she and Bill could clear themselves and pay back 
the bank balance. In fact, it seemed a little odd to Terry that, as soon as 
she had agreed to Elaine to help her out in this "little business" as she'd 
called it, Mr. Morganthaler at the finance company had telephoned to say 
that as long as she was going to be working for Elaine, he'd be more than 
willing to take care of her little problem at the Northern California 
Savings and Loan. 

So, for the moment, Terry's worst problems were solved, and if everything 
seemed, more than a slight bit bizarre, it was really not her place to worry 
unduly about the more complicated aspects of the whole situation. She had 
only to stand there, acting as a hostess for the nice men from Katmayama 
Lighters which Elaine's husband Jake seemed to have some sort of connection 
with. In return for serving hors d'oeuvres and smiling, every other 
Wednesday evening she would be getting quite a nice little salary, more than 
enough to pay for the monthly loan payment, and if it was being just the 
least bit deceitful to Bill, well, it just could not be helped. 

Of course, when Elaine had first explained the sort of job that this would 
be, Terry Dawson had felt more than a little dubious, but honestly, she 
thought, it's better than sitting in an awful office doing typing and 
filing, as she had done before her marriage to Bill Dawson. And, considering 
the alternative--being overdrawn at the bank, a fight with Bill, maybe even 
losing their house--why, there really was no choice left to the young 
housewife. 

However, her white lie to Bill had left Terry Dawson feeling a certain sort 
of guilt that she'd never experienced in the five years of their marriage. 
They had always been so very honest with each other, and she for one had 
never even thought to question whether her husband might be not telling her 
the truth. Terry hoped sincerely that one day, when this was all water under 
the bridge, when their bills were paid, they would be able to talk about 
this and laugh. She hoped she could tell him, perhaps lying in bed one 
morning. Of course he'd be a little bit angry for a little while, but it 
wouldn't be too bad. Why, maybe he would even be secretly proud of her for 
doing it. At least, it could be no worse than it would be now if he found 
out how bad it was down at the bank, and that was one thing she was just 
going to not let him find out, not if she could possibly help it. 

Terry hoped that her little lie about having to go across the town to visit 
her friend from the gardening club, Mrs. Anna Holm, had sounded perfectly 
plausible to her young husband. Anna and she would rather often get together 
to go over the garden catalogues which arrived periodically, and although 
there was not much of a reason for the older lady to wish to look at 
gardening catalogues at five o'clock in the evening, Bill had not sounded in 
the least bit suspicious when she'd told him about it. 

As Terry's mind mulled over these things, she began to notice that the men 
from the Katayama Lighters Inc. seemed to all be coming out of the large 
room where they had been talking. The meeting must now be finished, and now 
her real work would come, which was a little vague to Terry's mind, and 
seemed to consist only of being extremely charming and smiling happily to 
the emissaries of Katayama. Her friend Elaine Travis, who stood elegantly 
across the room, seemed to be doing just exactly that. 

"My dear girl, you are doing just fine," came Elaine's voice, and she waved 
ever-so-brightly to Terry. Terry smiled back. 

Why, she's so awfully nice, she thought once again. What a lucky woman I am 
to have a friend like her! Terry had never dreamed that the fashionable 
Elaine Travis had actually worked for a living, but when Elaine explained to 
her that it helped her husband so much in his business of organizing annual 
meetings for groups of executives, it seemed so nice and sort of cozy that 
they helped each other. 

The conversation in the now-crowded room was rising, and the bartender was 
busy serving drinks to the executives in their business suits. Soon a voice 
was solicitously asking Terry herself if she would like a drink, and she 
turned to face an attractive man in his forties. 

"What can I get you, sweetie?" he inquired in a too-familiar voice which 
caused Terry to instinctively recoil. Her automatic reaction to this would 
have been, "No thank you sir," moving gracefully but haughtily across the 
room, remembering her instructions from Elaine Travis, the voluptuously 
formed brunette only widened her aching smile and, in a voice she did not 
recognize, purred. 

"Thanks, I'd love a nice drink. Oh . . . maybe a Stoned Sour." As the 
balding, obviously well-off man walked purposefully to the bar, Terry sighed 
in relief and congratulated herself on her poise. She wondered vaguely just 
what a Stoned Sour would turn out to be--at least its name, which she had 
heard someone use earlier, sounded interesting. The young wife didn't 
usually drink, but Elaine had told her it would be extremely rude to turn 
down anything these nice men might offer to her, explaining how lonely they 
were, meeting in Sunnyvale far away from their wives and children. 

Terry resolved to be just as nice as she possible could be, to help the poor 
men, even though it seemed sort of. .. well, just a little odd, that was 
all. 

Within several minutes, Terry's escort had returned with her drink, and she 
sipped the deceptively fruit juice-tasting concoction thirstily. Striving to 
be friendly, she said to her companion brightly, "My name is Terry Dawson 
and I'm new to Sunnyvale too! I've only been here a year. How long will you 
be staying in our town?" 

The balding man, who was drinking Scotch on the rocks, put his arm 
protectively around Terry, so protectively, in fact, that he crushed her 
right up against his chest, with his hand resting on the side of her left 
breast. "Well, honey," he drawled in an accent the young brunette could not 
quite locate, "Ah'm Dennis Perry, and South Carolinah's mah home. Myrtle 
Beach, South Carolinah's mah home. Myrtle Beach, South Carolinah, the jewel 
of the whole earth! But babeee," and he squeezed her more tightly than ever, 
"we haven't got anyone like you theah, so maybe ah'll be here in Sunnyvale a 
good lahng time!" 

Terry looked up in fright at the man who called himself Dennis Perry. Was he 
trying to be funny with her? she wondered. She tried to gracefully extricate 
her body from his grasp, but it proved to be an impossible task, and his 
hand against her left breast was now moving. He was not only holding her in 
a fatherly embrace, he was stroking her firmly fleshed mound in the most 
intimate way, over the fabric of her brassiere and turtleneck pullover! 

My goodness, but this was too much! Terry looked about desperately, her eyes 
roving across the crowded, smoke-filled room in search of her one friend, 
Elaine. Finally she caught a glimpse of the provocative blonde woman, also 
dressed in a short tight outfit and absurdly high patent leather platform 
shoes. And Elaine was surrounded by five or six executives, laughing and 
giggling and sipping her drink, almost as though she were a teenager at a 
Coke party. 

Terry could tell that it would be hopeless, and of course embarrassing to 
call to Elaine to help her out of the clutches of this southern gentleman 
who must be missing his wife and children awfully much to want to hold onto 
the curvaceous brunette's body in such a protective manner! Instead, she 
raised her hand, emptied the sweet liquid of her drink into her mouth, and 
said, "Excuse me, please, Mr. Perry, but I'm just awfully thirsty. I'll be 
back in a minute!" 

Before Dennis Perry had time to protest, or to gallantly offer to fetch the 
wide-eyed brunette another drink himself, she had expertly slipped from his 
clutches, and was soon teetering quickly away on her too-high heels, in the 
direction not of the well-stocked bar, but of the ladies washroom. 

Although Terry not only carefully removed and reapplied every bit of her 
make-up with a carefulness and painstakingness that was only slightly marred 
by the shaking of her hand, she realized she could not stay in the washroom 
forever. And yet. . . did she dare to go back into that room? Dennis Perry 
had touched her in such a terribly familiar manner--what sort of a woman did 
he think she was? Elaine had never made her expect anything of this nature, 
that was certain! 

But, oh dear, her alcohol-clouded mind continued. It seemed so awfully 
innocent the way Elaine was handling the entire situation. What was wrong 
with herself, that she could not do this casually and happily? It must be 
that she'd been so shut away for so awfully long, so truly protected from 
the harshness of the outside world by her husband and her home and her 
garden. Why, she seldom went out at all, except to do the marketing and to 
go the nursery to buy plants. Aside from the other neighbors, she saw almost 
no one at all. 

It's just Bill and I, she thought, just a little world for the two of us. 
And this thought, which so many previous times had made Terry Dawson feel a 
warm and secure tingling in her innermost heart, now had the opposite 
effect. Maybe that's the problem with me now, said a part of her mind. I 
could flirt in high school, but now I've forgotten how to do anything! 

Leaning on the basin of the ladies washroom of the Old City Hall Building, 
Terry surveyed her features. She was, she conceded to herself, if anything, 
even prettier than she had been in her high school days. The few crows feet 
she had accumulated hardly showed beneath her carefully applied make-up and 
her skin not only had a healthy glow from three weeks in Hawaii, but 
radiated a youth and beauty of its own. 

Smiling brightly at her mirrored image, Terry picked up her handbag and, 
swaying slightly from the one drink she'd had, left the privacy of the 
ladies washroom for the noise and tumult outside. 

* * * 

"Long time no see," called the loud voice of the bartender. "We were missing 
you, little lady. We were about to send the diving crew in after you!" 

A roar of laughter came from the business men who crowded around the bar, 
but Terry felt suddenly strong and undaunted. "I'm still here, fellas," she 
called gaily, amazed at the bright and confident sound of her own voice, and 
too inexperienced to be aware of the fact that the Stoned Sour she'd belted 
down was having its effects. 

An instant later, another Stoned Sour was in her hand, and another man, a 
Jack Trayer of Bristol, Virginia, was telling her how he wished they "made 
'em like her back home." It was silly, Terry knew, but it wasn't so bad 
after all; it was even flattering, really! It felt good to have all these 
attractive men swarming about, and her Stoned Sour tasted so good that she 
was soon drinking her third one. 

When Elaine came over to the young brunette housewife, she smiled happily at 
her. "You're just like an old professional hostess!" 

Terry felt a warm glow all through her body. It was very stuffy inside the 
large and smoky room, so she unbuttoned her blazer. A tall gray-haired man 
was passing her as she did so, and he reached out and tweaked at her breast, 
which thrust so prominently against the jersey fabric of her tight blue 
turtleneck. But Terry only smiled, pulling back playfully. 

"Oh no you don't," she cried coyly, and this time her voice was slurred. But 
it didn't matter; it was a gigantic party and everyone liked her, and 
besides, it wasn't for real.. . 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Terry reeled back clumsily but a pair of hands caught her alcohol-distorted 
body, and helped her to stand up again. The sun-tanned brunette housewife 
was certainly drunk--it could not be denied. It must have been those Stoned 
Sours, she thought, but they didn't taste like anything that would do this 
to me. Before that final drink--was it her fourth or only her third?--she 
had felt perfectly fine, just a little extra-happy, sort of, but now her 
head was reeling in a manner that only meant one thing. 

Someone took the young woman by the hand and led her firmly over to an 
armchair, and she gratefully sank into its cushiony depths. What was 
happening to her? The room had begun to lurch and spin around as though she 
were on some hellish carnival ride down at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk. Terry 
held her head in her hand, watching the room turn upside down from her 
chair. 

The alcohol-soaked brain of the young woman slowly stopped spinning in such 
a disconcerting manner. Slowly, the room and its occupants righted 
themselves. Slowly, she could perceive that she was still among Elaine and 
all her new businessman friends, that no one was hurting her, that all was 
perfectly all right. A-Ok, like the kids in the neighborhood would say. 

In the front of the room a man of Japanese descent had begun to speak, and 
comparative quiet descended upon the room. Terry took her head from her 
hands. Pull yourself together, she told herself harshly, You're not all that 
drunk, you silly girl. Admonishing herself was an old habit, a hangover 
really from her lonely childhood, when she would invent imaginary playmates 
and tell them all what to do. And still, silly as it might sound, it tended 
to work, so she kept on doing it. Come on, Terry, she willed silently, 
refocusing her gaze on the room before her eyes. 

"In the year that has so quickly passed since the last annual meeting," the 
speaker was saying, "many changes have come to pass within the corporation 
of Katayama Lighters, and our many models are being shipped all over the 
world. Not only are our silver- and gold-plated hand lighters gaining 
constantly in stature, but our table models are now being seen in the best 
homes and offices in Europe, South America, North America, Africa, 
Australia, and of course in Asia. We are especially pleased with the great 
strides we have made right here in the United States of America, and there 
are no people to thank for this success as much as the fifty representatives 
here tonight." 

Mr. Nishide paused pointedly, and was soon rewarded by drunken calls and 
applause. He smiled happily, and continued. 

"And now that our annual meeting here in beautiful Sunnyvale is already 
drawing to a close, I want to thank each one of you for being here to join 
us, and especially I want to thank Mr. and Mrs. Jake Travis for their kind 
help, and also tonight, Mrs. Terry Dawson, who had been so lovely." 

Terry heard more cheers and applause, and even a few loud wolf whistles. 
Tipsy but happy, Terry colored and smiled. It's so wonderful, she thought 
dreamily. Everyone's being so nice. 

"And, as a special token of our esteem, before the party begins..." 

Before the party begins? wondered the young housewife's hazy mind. Before 
the party begins? Why, what was all this that had been happening? 

But she was not given a chance to worry for very long. The Japanese man up 
on the platform was grinning from ear to ear and loudly repeating her name. 
"Terry Dawson! Mrs. Terry Dawson, we have a little something from our world 
famous cigarette lighter company just for you! Could you come up here 
please?" 

Oh heavens, thought the tipsy brunette. Can I ever walk that far? But 
somehow she did; somehow she managed, in spite of her drunken state, to rise 
and, lasciviously swaying her shapely buttocks underneath her tight skirt, 
she teetered to the platform. 

* * * 

Right, thought Elaine Travis. Everything is coming along just right. That 
sweet little broad is as smashed as a coed at her first fraternity party, 
and you can bet she's going to loosen up now! Why, my dear girl, you're 
really going to have a time of it now! Best thing that ever happened to you, 
cooped up in this god-awful town with the prude you married! 

Elaine Travis was certain that her little plan was falling into place just 
like clockwork. And why shouldn't it really? This wasn't the first time that 
she and Jake had been able to help out little girls with money problems. 
Why, one of those girls, who had come dead broke to the Bay Area back in 
'68, had helped them out for three years, and had a real ball doing it. 
She'd finally married a used car dealer and lived in a big house up in St. 
Francis Wood, and didn't work at all, except to tell the maids what to do. 

That girl, a little Mary Flint, had been even more innocent that Terry 
Dawson, even more reluctant to enter into a swinging world, but after a few 
nights, she'd loosened right up and got into the spirit of things. And there 
didn't seem to be a reason in the whole world why Terry wouldn't fit in that 
same old pattern. The forty year old blonde tossed her curly, youthful head 
of hair and smiled to herself. 

Hell, it was too easy really! Jake always wanted to be cautious about this 
sort of thing, wanted to keep the many business which the Travises jointly 
controlled "straight" as he'd say. He had a clear and level head about 
making money; he wanted a lot of it and he knew all the ropes so he could do 
things legally and never run into trouble. Often he would admonish Elaine to 
be more careful, to be really sure about trying out a new broad, or a new 
couple especially. But Elaine waved his disquiet away, claiming she had a 
sixth sense about this sort of thing. What's more, she could sniff out 
candidates who were ready and willing just like a bloodhound could sniff out 
a lost child, and she was justly proud of this ability. 

Now, watching Bill Dawson's wife seductively swaying her way up to the 
platform, fifty pairs of eyes riveted to her lushly-rounded ass-cheeks, 
Elaine Travis was all the more sure she had made a wise selection when she 
asked the younger woman if she could "help out" at the Katayama Lighters 
Annual meeting. And she couldn't wait till the real fun began! 

* * * 

Tripping gaily, and nearly oblivious of her own semi-intoxicated state of 
consciousness, the well-formed brunette ascended the platform. And suddenly 
she was excited to be there, excited to know that she was the center of 
attention. It's just like it was in college, she thought happily. No dirty 
dishes or bathrobes or loan payments--just attractive men and parties and 
occasionally drinking just a tiny wee bit too much sometimes! 

In girlish excitement she unwrapped the small package she was presented 
with. It was a tiny gold box, and inside the box was a gold-plated cigarette 
lighter. "Oh, how awfully nice you are," she exclaimed, thinking it really 
was a pity that Bill had made her give up smoking cigarettes when they had 
just gotten engaged to be married. 

But when the still-dizzily swaying brunette had returned to her seat, she 
felt a pang of conscience stab through her confused brain. It was just too 
bad that she had to lie to Bill, and the memory of that unpleasantness put a 
damper on her state of enthusiasm. She would have to bell more lies, and she 
would have to hide this nice Japanese lighter. Oh, what was wrong with her 
that she was enjoying herself while Bill, her good, brave, honest husband 
was sitting, unsuspectingly, in their wood-paneled study, poring over his 
books on airplane repairs! 

But they needed money, she told herself resolutely. They needed to make 
money and why shouldn't she enjoy herself while she did so? After all, Bill 
was away all day long, being at an exciting place, and . .. But Terry 
Dawson's intoxicated reverie was interrupted by something that made her 
forget her own personal dilemma, something that really caused her to sit up 
and gasp. 

An excited ripple of laughter and general commotion was coming from the end 
of the large room, just across from the doorway to the hall. Terry looked 
up, blinking hard to focus her brown eyes. Why, suddenly everyone was 
crowding around the end of the room, crowding and shoving and talking 
excitedly. A doorway which she had not noticed before was opened and people 
were pushing and pointing inside. 

What can this be? thought the young, bewildered housewife. Is this the party 
they had alluded to? Once again she struggled up from her chair, suddenly 
conscious of the fact that she was officially here to "help out" and she'd 
better do something. Maybe ask Elaine about going into the kitchen to get 
some coffee and those nice homemade brownies she'd seen while they were 
preparing the hors d'oeuvres. But where was Elaine, anyway? 

Suddenly she felt a strong masculine hand taking her by the arm; looking up 
in vague surprise and gratefulness, Terry saw that it was the man from 
Myrtle Beach whom she'd spoken to earlier in the evening. What was his name 
anyway? She mustn't appear to be rude or forgetful, she knew, and she 
struggled with her memory. Oh yes, Dennis Perry, that was it, wasn't it? 

"Looks like you need a little help, sweetie," his slow Southern voice 
drawled close to her ear. Together they walked to the doorway, and a sight 
greeted Terry Dawson's eyes that she'd never forget for as long as she 
lived! 

* * * 

A figure was in the doorway, a woman's figure. Who can it be . .. what is 
she doing ... it took Terry's befogged mind a few instants to register the 
situation, but when she did, the significance hit her like a ton of bricks. 

For the figure belonged to her helpful friend, Elaine Travis, and Elaine was 
taking off her clothes! 

"C'mon baby," a voice yelled in. excitement. "Take it off, pumpkin!" 

My God, what was Elaine doing! This couldn't be real! Terry sank back in 
confusion, and only Dennis Perry's strong hands on her body kept her from 
falling to the ground. For suddenly the ordinary cocktail party was over; 
suddenly the nice speeches and cigarette lighters were over; something new 
had taken their place, and it was something Terry had never seen, never 
known, something she feared with all her heart! 

"How about it, guys?" came Elaine's voice, and gone from it was the 
cultivated accent, the careful phrasings, the upper class inflections. 
"Wanna see some more, fellas?" she called out to the all-too-eager mass of 
fifty leering males. She was hard and brash and Terry had to blink her own 
eyes very hard to remind herself that the two Elaine Travises were one and 
the same person! 

The astounded brunette was in such a state of shock that she was not aware 
that someone's arm was around her own waist, and numbly, unthinkingly, she 
filed through the doorway along with all the Katayama Lighter 
representatives, filed through with no thought of just what was about to 
happen to herself! 

One after another the men, with Terry in their midst, pushed and shoved 
their mesmerized way into the room where Elaine Travis was taking off her 
clothes. It was a large room, though not nearly so large as the impersonal 
lodge-type room they had just been in. Instead it was a luxuriously 
furnished place, with red velvet draperies over the windows, red and gold 
velvet-covered couches, and an immense bed, also covered in the identical 
wine-red velvet material, with gold satin pillows casually tossed about it. 

Terry could hardly hear herself think above the enthusiastic din of shouts 
and yells. Her head had begun to ache with the noise, until she felt 
mesmerized. Sinking her well-rounded body into the nearest couch, she 
watched, her eyes riveted to the provocative blonde who stood in the center 
of the room. 

Elaine Travis was dressed--or partly dressed--in a gold lame jumpsuit, 
tightly fitting in the bodice and over the hips, but with loose billowing 
legs. On her feet were similar gold lame high heels. Long red jewels dangled 
from her ears. Slowly, gently, provocatively, she was weaving back and forth 
to the tempo of the music. From side to side swayed her buxom body, her arm 
over her head in a graceful curve. And, as she subtly, sensuously moved, her 
right hand was ever-so-slowly pulling down the gold zipper which ran all the 
way down the front of her skin-tight garment. 

Right in front of fifty hypnotized men and one innocent Sunnyvale housewife, 
the curvaceous blonde teasingly removed her clothes. There was not a sound 
in the room, and the atmosphere felt tense and electric. Terry herself 
hardly dared to breathe. It was terrible, terrible, but terribly wonderful, 
and she could not possibly get out of her chair ... she was held in the grip 
of the erotic spectacle. 

Slowly moving her hips, the voluptuous woman continued to pull the lame 
jumpsuit away from her bronzed flesh. She swayed backwards, forwards, always 
exactly in time to the music, tossing her blonde curls as the stereo thumped 
out its sensual African drum beat. Now the zipper was all the way down to 
her navel, and then men gasped as one man as the front of her suit opened, 
exposing the ample curves of her full breasts as she danced. And then she 
pulled the zipper even further, and the jumpsuit fell open. The luscious 
stripper's naked breasts tumbled free from their confines, and they swayed 
in heavy, provocative abandonment as she continued to rock and grind her 
hips with a further lustful intensity. 

Not a pair of eyes in the room was not wide with amazed awe and desire, 
watching the lascivious display of Elaine Travis's luscious body, watching a 
woman strip in lustful abandonment, watching a woman strip and knowing she 
was doing so in the most lustful, unabashed pleasure! And what a woman! 
Elaine's full, womanly figure, rounded but firmly youthful, was enough to 
mesmerize any man. 

Not only were the gathered representatives delighted to see such a beautiful 
woman undressing before their very eyes, but the fact that this woman was no 
old and hardened professional, no tight-breasted, tight-fisted club 
stripper, was unexplainably erotic. She wasn't any old prostitute, but a 
lovely and charming, obviously cultured woman, and she was peeling off her 
clothes right in front of fifty pairs of leering, lustful eyes. Fifty men 
felt that they were going to go insane with agonizing desire as her slow 
movements quickened, and the music pulsed its message into every body in the 
room, as Elaine's sensuous body writhed its obvious message to each and 
every eager lighter representative. 

Balding Dennis Perry, Terry's former escort from whom she had escaped into 
the washroom, had now maneuvered himself next to her place in the chair, and 
his one hand rested on her shoulder, but she barely noticed at all. In fact, 
if anything, she felt grateful for the touch, for the reassurance of a sort 
of reality in this mad sea of searing, pulsing sensuality. 

Dennis felt his body throbbing along with the intoxicating rhythm, and his 
cock began to ache, painfully desirous. He closed his eyes and imagined the 
stripper's pussy, her wet and clinging depths that would soon be revealed. 
The music rose and fell in a steady, undulating wantonness; and he longed 
for it to hurry . . . and yet longed as well for it to go on forever, for it 
never to stop. 

Elaine's bejeweled hand went slowly up to one of her breasts, and she cupped 
it, cupped the voluptuous firm heaviness. It stood up high and proud, 
quivering in the half-light, and her own fingers caressed the bronzed flesh. 
As she danced, her upthrust mounds moved with an intensity of their own, 
swaying along with her body, but also somehow apart, as though they were 
alive, separate, asking and aching and inviting. Her sun-bronzed nipples 
were already tautened with excitement, as though they themselves longed to 
be taken deeply into a man's eager, salivating mouth, and every man present 
felt his own mouth water, imagining himself to be just the recipient of that 
warm, living flesh. 

Maneuvering delicately, with a practiced air, the dancing woman pulled the 
shimmering jumpsuit from her shapely arms. Never missing a beat, she 
continued to lower it, revealing her silken belly, with only a tiny pair of 
transparent bikini panties to cover her entire voluptuous nakedness. Her 
jumpsuit hung, only for an instant, still covering her legs, but revealing 
her arms and torso and achingly swaying belly; and then, in a swift 
movement, it fell to the floor. Elaine kicked it aside, not interrupting her 
dance for an instant, kicking her shoes off as well. 

Then she paused for just a moment, smiling in provocative intensity to the 
fifty men, thrusting out her body in unashamed desire. She spun slowly 
around revealing buttocks every bit as shapely as her full bosom, buttocks 
barely covered by the fine transparent panties. 

Above the beat of the music could be heard hoarse breathing as each man's 
fantasies came into full play, as each man imagined and desired himself 
ripping those tight transparent, crotch-moist panties from this swaying 
woman! Elaine's hips ground back and forth in teasing, luring motions, like 
a bullfighter slowly swinging his red scarf in front of a blood-angry bull. 
It was as though she was teasing, daring someone to jump up from his chair 
and yank those panties down over the firm swell of her hips, down over the 
gently curling pubic hair, down her long sun-tanned legs. 

Elaine Travis was lost in the rapture of her erotic dance, tasting and 
savoring the thrill of prolonged desire. In maddeningly teasing gestures, 
she ran her hands along her full body, softly caressing her own warm flesh 
in narcissistic delight, just as she knew each man present wanted to caress 
her. With graceful movements, her hands and fingertips titillated her 
breasts, her belly, her inner thighs, just barely brushing over the surface 
of her silken skin, until finally her fingers reached the elastic waistband 
of her transparent panties. Even now she did not hurry; slowly and 
tantalizingly, still swaying like a tribal princess, she rolled them down 
over the womanly swelling of her youthfully ripe ass-cheeks, exposing her 
deliciously naked buttocks to each male eye. 

In an unmistakably salacious gesture, Elaine Travis unashamedly thrust out 
her ass-cheeks, rotating them invitingly. The smooth flesh of her bottom 
gleamed in the light as she waved the jutting mounds to her audience. Every 
man present felt his own cock stiffen with desire; every many yearned 
uncontrollably for the joy of ramming his blood-swollen penis into the 
hidden wetness between the smooth globes of Elaine's buttocks. 

Mercilessly tantalizing, Elaine now reached for her panties again, which 
rested, half-removed, just underneath her silky pubic hair. Parting her 
thighs, she now lowered those silken panties, easing them along her bare 
silken-smooth legs. Gracefully, she stepped out of them and, in an openly 
wanton movement, raised them to her face, inhaling the perfume of her 
desirous cuntal furrow. 

And then she tossed them aside and writhed in full, uninhibited nakedness. 
And every man knew her writhing was as full of sexual promise as it could 
ever be. Suddenly Terry Dawson, sitting quietly, tipsily, in her armchair, 
her own pussy tingling with the electricity that permeated the room, was 
aware of what was happening. At first it had been a dance, a dance in 
questionable taste, perhaps, but still. . . she knew women did, 
occasionally, strip for men, like at the North Beach clubs she and Bill 
never even went to . . . but this was more, much more! 

Terry looked hurriedly for the door, but there were so many men there, so 
many people around. She tried to stand up, but a firm hand pushed her down. 
Her head spun. She felt a hand on her breast, and another hand on her neck, 
and another hand reaching for her own firm thigh. 

"No!" she cried. "No, no, no ... " But her own feeble words sounded weak, 
coming from a dream. 

And then Elaine's voice, dark and sultry and alive with sexuality. "Well, 
boys, what are you waiting for?" And, without a further warning, the dimly 
lit room was plunged into total darkness! 

Terry felt bodies pushing, shoving, probing. She could barely walk but 
somehow hands were propelling her along, up from her chair. Her jacket was 
pulled off, her turtleneck yanked over her head. A dozen hands were shoving 
at her, at her thighs, her breasts. . . and then she felt her brassiere 
being ripped away with a tearing sound, and her skirt tugged off, and in a 
dark and swirling heat of hands and tongues and voices, she found herself 
lying on the red velvet bed. 

Terry felt as though she were in a delirium, as though she were in a mad 
dream. Between her legs burned still the sensation that Elaine's maddening 
dance had awakened in every single member of her audience, and her brain was 
numbed by alcohol. 

"No ... no ... " she cried again, reeling in the darkness of intoxicated 
nightmare! "Let me go!" But her mouth was covered by moist hard lips, and 
she felt the hot breathing of a man kissing her with passionate intensity, 
and her words were stilled as sensation swept through her trembling body. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

Out of the dark depths came hands touching Terry Dawson's sensitive flesh, 
and the young brunette wife felt a sickening sense of doom falling upon her 
unsuspecting self. So this was her reward for trying to get herself out of 
that rotten money situation without letting Bill know what her plans were! 
Surely Bill would have understood .. . surely she should have told him what 
Elaine had suggested .. . surely he would have found another way. Oh, where 
was he now, her own darling husband. Why was it happening? Why? Why? 

But Terry's sickened heart knew at its bottom-most depths, that now there 
was no turning back, struggle as she might against the unknown mouths and 
hands which so obscenely and disrespectfully were now handling her 
nearly-denuded flesh. Her goose bumped skin was chill with an unspeakable 
terror, and her intoxicated mind was not so drunk as to be unaware of the 
fate which was about to befall her. And it's all my fault, wailed her 
agonized mind, fighting back hot tears of self-pity. All my gosh-darned 
stupid fault. 

If only she could turn back the clock with one magic gesture, if only she 
could be back at home now, maybe fixing some tea and writing letters to the 
friends she'd left behind in Newport Beach, while Bill read his books. If 
only .. . but the time was right now, here in Sunnyvale's old City Hall, and 
heaven alone knew what was about to happen to the trembling brunette! 

And then the lights were on again, or one light, someplace in the room, and 
Terry looked around herself for the first time. Why, where had everyone 
gone? Where was Elaine? Only two men remained in the ornate room, 
surrounding the frightened woman--there was Sam Nishide, the man who had 
made that speech and given her a cigarette lighter, and there was Dennis 
Perry who had followed her about all evening. And then there was darkness. 

But they're smiling, thought Terry. They're both my friends. They won't hurt 
me. . . She sank back gratefully on the big bed, closing her eyes, for once 
again her head had begun to spit out of control. She felt a hand then, 
tugging at the elastic of her panties which were all that protected the 
confused woman from being totally naked. Instinctively, she tried to shield 
herself, but strong hands held her motionless and unable to move. 

Voices then, harsh male voices . . . footsteps coming and going . . . 
powerful fingers caressing Terry's bare belly, rough fingers along the 
swelling curve of her hip. Hands held her down on the bed, but they were 
gentle and skillful hands, hands whose every move sent unwanted tingles 
coursing along her spine into the hot depths of her belly. 

An alien hand touched the sensitive bronze flesh of her inner thigh; 
instinctively, she attempted to clench her legs and keep this intruding hand 
from reaching her. But more hands touched, more hands reached for her 
thighs, caressed her upturned buttocks. She felt suddenly dizzy, on a 
strange carousel of rough hands and nakedness and tremors of desire. 

But when Terry Dawson's beclouded consciousness felt a hand and a stiffened 
masculine finger slip between her parted thighs and into the moistened 
crevice of her pussy, she suddenly became aware of what she was doing! No! 
She could not simply lie there and be ravished by these men! No, it would 
never never never happen, and not all the liquor in the world would let her 
forget this; with a sudden burst of strength she did not realize she 
possessed, she twisted free of their grip, screaming for all the vulnerably 
naked woman was worth. 

"Aaaahh!" she yelled loudly. "Let me go!" She bit and fought and tears 
poured down her face, shocked into sobriety. And she screamed again. 

Suddenly the lights went on. A hard voice said, "All right, knock it off!" 
Ceasing to scream, Terry saw, through her tears, Elaine Travis's big husband 
Jake. He looked hard and businesslike and dead sober. 

Dennis Perry spoke up then. "We all were just havin' a little bit of fun 
with your new helper." he looked a bit apologetic, even as he said those 
words. Both he and Sam Nishide had backed off from the trembling naked 
woman. 

"Well, just get the fuck out of here, and have your fun someplace else!" 
barked Jake. "This is a party, not a goddamn rape session." To Terry, he 
said, "Now stop crying, little girl. No one's going to hurt you." 

Terry sniffed and wiped her eyes, watching as Sam and Dennis sheepishly 
filed from the ornately furnished room. The racking sobs had ceased, but 
still she could not abate her quietly falling tears. Suddenly, it seemed all 
to clear that she had come so close to having her body defiled by these 
ultimate strangers, so close to betraying her own dear husband in the most 
terrible act of shameless adultery! 

"You'd better come with me now," said Jake in a commanding tone to the 
sniffling young wife. "The last thing we need around here is a hysterical 
broad!" His words were harsh, but his tone was gentle and his eyes looked 
concerned. 

Terry stood up but sank back down on the bed in sobbing despair. "But I-I'm 
naked," she cried. "They ripped off all my clothes!" Burying her head in her 
hands in sudden shame, she cried quietly. She felt so terrible, so violated, 
like a slut off the street, shamelessly sitting in front of her friend's 
husband with not a stitch of clothing to conceal her voluptuously curved 
body from anyone's eyes. 

But Jake Travis, Elaine's dark-haired husband, seemed hardly to be aware of 
Terry's state of nakedness. Ignoring the crumpled pile of garments lying on 
the floor, he removed his own jacket and handed it to her, helping her to 
struggle into it. Then he took the still-crying brunette by the hand and led 
her out a doorway and down a hall. She clutched his jacket tightly around 
her full body, grateful for its rough fabric, its tweedy masculine feel 
against her skin. 

* * * 

In the quiet of Jake's little office at the end of the hallway, Terry Dawson 
washed the tears from her face with some of Elaine's nice sweet smelling 
soap, scrubbing hard as though to wash away every bit of defilement. Wearing 
a loose terrycloth robe, belonging to Jake himself, she walked out into the 
little kitchenette where her hose was brewing a pot of strong coffee. 

"Feel better?" he inquired. "Here, we'll get some of this into you, and then 
I'll drive you home." He set the pot of coffee, a decanter of cognac, two 
cups and two glasses onto a tray and carried them out to a low table in 
front of a black leather couth. Terry noticed in spite of herself, that his 
cock was bulging quite noticeably inside his fashionably tight trousers. He 
sat down close beside his impromptu guest on the leather couch. 

Jake poured two cups of coffee and two glasses of cognac, handing Terry's to 
her shaking hands. "Look like you need these, kid," he said gently. He 
managed to maneuver himself close enough to Terry on the couch so that his 
thigh was touching hers. A hot flash of desire shot through his loins at the 
contact, but he restrained himself. 

Easy Jake, he cautioned his impatient body. You don't want to frighten her 
-that'd ruin everything. 

Terry sipped gratefully at her coffee. She felt a little silly now, in front 
of Elaine's good-looking husband, silly about having lost her head and made 
such a mountain out of what now seemed like an easily avoidable situation. 

"I'm-I'm sorry about screaming," she said hesitantly. 

"Well," said the older man smoothly, "it really wasn't your fault. 
"Sometimes Elaine doesn't really prepare people to expect what is going to 
happen. If she'd make more of an effort, well..." He left his sentence 
dangling, and Terry, looking up into her host's eyes, felt a moment of 
protective pity for this nice, graying man. After all, Elaine was surely 
beautiful, but it must be--well, chaotic--to share a life with the ravishing 
blonde woman. 

As he spoke, the licentious businessman placed his hand on Terry's back and 
began to massage it gently with his fingertips. He felt her body tense up 
beneath his touch, but as she did not try to move away, he slowly worked his 
hand around her ribs so that it was gently grazing against the side of her 
full, trembling breast. 

"But I mean I'm really grateful that you got me out of there," Terry 
chattered on, the black coffee making her more lucid if not actually more 
sober. She knew Jake was being tremendously kind, but the way he stroked her 
back revived those sensations which had been tormenting her body before, and 
that made her feel so terribly embarrassed and confused, that she really 
didn't know quite what he was saying. 

"Yeah, it was getting pretty crude," Jake commented, having decided that the 
way into this obviously desirous woman's pussy was through her romantic 
mind. "Those guys have been on the damn road so long that they don't know 
anything about love." 

"Yes," breathed the young woman, now sipping at her cognac. "I'm so glad you 
can see it that way. I guess I don't know what came over me, but I know I've 
had too much to drink, and I just didn't know what was happening for a few 
minutes." 

"I can imagine," Jake said in a sympathetic tone, positioning his mouth 
close to Terry's brown curls. "Sometimes that wife of mine doesn't stay to 
the rules at all. . . sometimes she just gets so carried away." 

A tiny voice inside Terry's brain warned her that the handsome businessman 
was sitting entirely too close to her, but she felt so warm and contented, 
so relaxed, finally, that it seemed impossible to pull away from his simple, 
innocent caress. And anyway, it was such a relief to talk with someone who 
understood the way she was feeling! Ignoring the vague trepidation which 
lurked in the back of her mind, she leaned back happily against Jake's 
strong shoulder, like a little girl who knows that her daddy will make 
everything all right. 

"It's no nice to meet a man who understands how I feel," she confided. "Back 
there, I felt like I was all alone, in a mass of strangers. And I know I 
can't tell Bill about it, and I've just got to tell somebody." 

"You mustn't feel afraid to tell me," soothed the older man, tightening his 
grip about her lissome body. As he spoke, he could feel Terry relaxing and 
pressing her warm young figure closer against his own. A strong shiver of 
lewd excitement shot through his loins, and in a moment he'd forgotten his 
mental words, and could only concentrate on the more immediate needs of his 
desirous penis. 

"You mustn't ever be afraid of not joining into a crowd when that isn't for 
you," he continued slyly. "For some women, it's so much better to be alone 
with one man. For some women like you . . . and some men like myself." 

Terry nodded happily, her previous nervousness forgotten. Finally someone 
was understanding her predicament. Although she knew his wife would feel her 
to be a prude, and although her husband Bill would surely consider her a 
low-grade slut, if he ever knew, finally here was someone who at least 
approached an understanding of the confused feelings which still continued 
to rack her beclouded mind. 

"While Elaine," continued Jake, "needs to realize that every man in a room 
appreciates her beauty, there are people like you and I who only desire one 
person's attention at a time, and indeed, can't cope with a whole roomful of 
humans." He looked at the worried brunette in quite sympathy. "I understand 
you more than you could possibly know," he murmured. 

Although the brooding man's last statement was a tiny bit incomprehensible 
to the still-intoxicated brunette, Terry admired the inspiring sound of his 
words. She was trying to think of a suitable reply, and it took her a few 
minutes to notice that her host's hands were gently smoothing over the full 
trembling mounds of her breasts. Feeling her still-aroused body flush again 
with desire, the bewildered brunette wondered confusedly what was happening. 

What's wrong with me, anyway, she thought. There's this same terrible 
feeling, but it's much stronger now. J must be such an evil woman; Jake's 
only trying to comfort me, and I feel these horrible and depraved desires... 
He's only talking about his wife, and why must I be thinking things like 
this? 

Terry blushed in confusion as she stared aghast at Jake's strong, masculine 
hands. Sipping her cognac, she knew she should pull away from him, but she 
was afraid of causing the sophisticated man to feel she was afraid. After 
all, he had practically saved her very life, and now she must not act as 
though he was someone to fear. Striving for self-possession, Terry reached 
for her cognac again, swallowing the remains of the glass in a single shot. 

"You're the kind of woman who I've always known could understand a man like 
myself," Jake murmured in an urgent whisper to the curvaceous brunette. 
"Elaine is so harsh sometimes, and I need softness, gentleness." As he 
spoke, his hands began to graze her breasts, covered only by his own loosely 
tied terrycloth robe, with an animalistic intensity. 

Terry caught her breath. She knew she had to make him stop before things 
went too far again. The urgent massaging felt so good against her warm 
flesh, and she felt tingles of response course through her entire body. 
"P-Please, Jake," she stammered, her face flushing red. "P-Please stop. You 
mustn't do that, please. I-I'm a married woman, you know." 

"Why not, Terry," the dark-haired man murmured into her ear in a seductive 
manner. He nibbled gently at her earlobe. "If you didn't really want to, you 
wouldn't be here tonight, you know. You'd be at home with that nice little 
husband of yours who thinks he can mold you into any form and never really 
looks at your deep needs and desires. Your desires as a real woman." 

Was he right? the confused woman asked herself. Wasn't he right? Bill never 
talked with her like this. As Jake's burning eyes bore into her hotly 
flushed face, she just didn't know what to think. Her brain whirled out of 
control, and the confused woman took another gulp of her now-cold coffee. 

"What's wrong with me touching you?" whispered Jake once again. "I'll make 
you feel like you never felt before," he continued in his silken smooth 
voice, his skilful fingers tweaking teasingly at her nipples. Even through 
the coarse terrycloth of his robe, he could feel the tiny pleasure-buds jump 
into erect little buttons beneath his feverish touch. 

"No, please!" exclaimed Terry in agitation. I should just pull away, her 
mind told her. I mustn't listen to the things he says. I must go home. . . I 
must go home. . . 

Yet the aroused brunette did not move to get off the couch. Another voice 
was speaking to her also, a voice that said to stay, stay just for a minute, 
stay and feel the infinite comfort and warmth of this handsome man's arms, 
enjoy his touch, enjoy his attention. And part of this voice was because she 
was afraid, so afraid, to stumble into her own house, intoxicated and 
tousled, and face her husband. No, she'd put it off just for a few more 
minutes. 

Jake's maddening manipulations of Terry's nipples was sending hot flashes of 
intensity throughout her eager young loins, and he could feel the brunette 
relax underneath his skilled touch. He congratulated himself on his own 
powers of persuasion, knowing in a sixth sense that Terry Dawson's words 
were only feeble protests, knowing that she longed for a man to bring her 
mature body to full womanly delights. And he knew -instinctively, perhaps by 
the unfulfilled look she'd always had in her brown eyes -that Bill Dawson 
hadn't been doing this. 

Wordlessly, Jake's hands unfastened the loose sash of the terrycloth robe 
which was wrapped about the voluptuous brunette. Moving so quickly that 
Terry never had a chance to speak, never had a chance to change her mind, he 
tugged the material away from her unresisting shoulders. 

Terry felt suddenly faint with embarrassment, embarrassed not only at having 
her naked breasts once again exposed, but even more embarrassed by the fact 
that somehow, in the course of the evening, this had become commonplace. 

A low whine of lust broke from Jake's throat. Shit, when he'd first seen 
Terry Dawson, he had no idea how luscious she was underneath her rather 
ordinary and unrevealing garments, and when he'd interrupted that near-rape 
scene, his first consideration had been to get her to shut up and not cause 
some bloody confusion about why there was a screaming woman at the Katayama 
Lighters Annual Meeting. But now that he had her alone, he saw her breasts 
were fuller and far more voluptuously rounded than he'd ever dared to hope. 
His body shook with hungry anticipation as the aroused businessman lowered 
his face to her enticing mounds of sun-bronzed flesh and gently sucked the 
right nipple into his eager mouth. 

Terry quivered in unwanted arousal. No ... no ... no. This couldn't happen. 
She couldn't let it happen. Humiliation and desire mingled and conflicted in 
the brunette's confused mind. 

She tried to pull herself away from his mouth and his hands, but a feverish 
electricity held her to him, and she could only whimper in protest. 

"Don't be afraid," came Jake's husky whisper as his mouth moved from her 
swollen breast for just an instant. "You're a woman, and I'm going to show 
you how wonderful that is. I'm going to show you like you've never felt 
before." 

"Yes," whispered the intoxicated woman, feeling the warmth of cognac 
swimming through her mind, feeling it tingle through her body. The part of 
her mind that was still protesting had somehow been lost, and its cry was 
softer and softer. "Yes," her voice repeated. She trembled, but didn't try 
to pull away again. Ignoring the voice of her conscience, Terry closed her 
eyes, allowing the strange waves of erotic bliss to tingle through every 
nerve ending in her youthful body. Never before had she felt anything like 
this .. . never in her years of marriage. Even the most wonderful times with 
her husband Bill had never had this element of suspense, of fear, of untried 
and unknown sensations. 

Terry's soft and tremulous "yes" caused Jake's rigidly swollen cock to lurch 
against his trousers. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he pressed the 
brunette back against his black leather couch and began to suck fervently at 
her quivering breasts, at the same time sliding his hand up under her robe 
to massage the satin pliancy of her smooth inner thighs. 

The touch of the experienced man was subtle, sensuous and totally 
irresistible to the aroused woman. Everything seemed more and more like a 
beautiful dream, and no longer did she even try to draw away from his 
magnetic fingers. A total stranger's hand was stroking up her most intimate 
regions, between her legs, higher and higher. What would Bill say? But this 
guilty thought only served to further arouse the innocent woman, only filled 
her with a strange, sinful, titillating sensation that some masochistic part 
of her mind responded to in an undreamed-of desire. 

Jake Travis sensed, in his experienced mind, that his triumph was already 
complete, but he continued to mumble soft phrases which were intended to 
make Terry relax, as his outstretched middle finger rubbed slowly back and 
forth over the naked lips of her cunt. 

A violent shudder wracked Terry's body as she felt Jake's probing finger 
nudging against the sensitive flesh of her tingling vaginal lips. "Ooooh!" 
an involuntary moan escaped from between her lips. "Ooooh!" His extended 
middle finger twirled in little circles around her moistened cuntal furrow, 
and then rose up to massage the tiny nerve-rich bud of her clitoris, causing 
it to grow stiff with desire. 

"No . . . no . . . not there .. . you mustn't touch me there," moaned the 
voluptuous brunette, but her voice was weak and lacking conviction. Jake's 
only response was to caress her breasts and pussy with even more fervent 
desire, until he could feel her torment subside, and her body begin to 
vibrate in pleasure beneath his talented hands. 

She's ready, he thought happily, lustfully. She's been ready for years, and 
just waiting for me to discover her. 

Jake pulled his hands away from Terry's full-fleshed body for just long 
enough to rise to his knees and yank off his own clothes. Trembling in 
anticipation, he jerked down the zipper on his trousers, freeing his swollen 
penis which had been throbbing in painful desire against his fly. In 
seconds, he was naked, his hand massaging his rod of aroused male flesh 
between his fingers, leering expectantly down at the frightened young woman 
beneath him. 

But at the sight of his pulsing, purple-red member, a sort of consciousness 
returned to the young wife. "I can't!" she cried. "Not that! That's 
adultery!" 

Goddamn bitch! Jake swore to himself. Now here she goes again! Stupid 
women--can never make up their bloody minds about what they really want! 

But the older man was clever enough not to express those thoughts to Terry, 
and compassionate enough to realize her very real dilemma of confusion 
between her desires and her concept of morality. He forced himself to speak 
in a calm and reassuring voice; he forced his face into a mask of 
understanding. "Don't be afraid," he murmured. "We're not going to do 
anything that you don't really want to do." He stroked her hair. "I want to 
touch you," he continued smoothly, "and I know how much you want me to. And 
I want you to touch me in just the same way, to make me feel good just like 
I'm making you feel. We don't have to do anything you'll feel badly about." 

Perhaps if Terry had been more sober, perhaps if she had had more of her 
wits about her, she would have replied that she would already feel sorry 
about this entire sordid evening, but as it was she knew she wanted his 
touch on her curvaceous body. And it wasn't really making love or anything 
... it wasn't really adultery . .. 

Taking Terry's limp hand in his own, the lustfully aroused man guided her 
fingers toward his still erect thickness of cock, forcing her to stroke its 
pulsating length. Desire coursed through his loins at her timid touch, and 
he was glad to see that, although she was hesitant, experimental, she no 
longer appeared to be horrified. 

Terry's eyes were half-closed as her fingers brushed over the warm smooth 
flesh of Jake Travis' elongated penis. It felt so nice and strong, quivering 
in her hand, larger even than her husband Bill's cock. 

"Stroke me, stroke me," Jake urged as Terry's tentative fingers began to 
move with more sureness of purpose. "See, isn't it nice," he whispered, his 
own digits tweaking insistently on her damp pussy lips. 

"Ummmmmm," whimpered the aroused woman, overcome by the fires of lust 
flaming in the pit of her belly. Unconsciously she began stroking Jake's 
hard penis with more and more sensuous caresses, copying the manner in which 
his fingers aroused her own tensely quivering pussy flesh. 

And then, just as Terry had begun to relax in the sinful but stimulating 
atmosphere, she was totally shocked to find Jake pull his lust-hardened body 
away from her own, to find him turning so that he knelt directly above her 
reclining body. His long thick penis dangled inches above the face of the 
trembling brunette, and before she had time to protest, she felt the 
incredible sensation of his mouth against her vulnerably naked pussy. How 
terrible! He was touching her vagina with his mouth, something her husband 
had never, never done! How depraved and humiliating! 

Terry tried to squirm away, tried to open her mouth in protest against this 
unwanted humiliation, but something stopped her. The hot moist lips closing 
over her soft trembling pussy-flesh caused a wave of arousal stronger than 
anything she had yet felt that evening, and involuntarily, she let out a 
moan of excited desire. 

Jake bent his head down to his task, daring his tongue rapidly back and 
forth over the trembling brunette's rapidly moistening vaginal slit. Then he 
located the quivering bud of her aroused clitoris, and teased at it with the 
expertly pointed tip of his tongue. 

Her elbows pressed tightly against her body, and her head, out of control, 
rolled from side to side as his hotly searing tongue shot deep up into her 
vaginal depths. His lips sucked hungrily, drawing the soft folds of her 
pussy deep into his ravenous mouth, and his tongue continued its erotic 
licking against the straining bud of her clitoris. Terry groaned from deep 
within her throat, sensations she had never dreamed of pulsing through her 
curvaceous body. 

The probing tip of his tongue worked its skilled way up and down the length 
of Terry's cuntal slit. And, as the woman under him let out moan after moan 
of suppressed lust, Jake decided she was more than ready. 

"I want you to suck me too, Terry," he panted. 

But the aroused wife froze. Never had anyone asked her to do that! She had 
read about it, heard nasty whispers about it from the girls in the dormitory 
back when she was a coed at Pomona State, but never had her husband asked 
her to do anything like that! It was for whores. "I can't . . . please . . . 
not that!" she protested. 

Jake Travis paid no heed to Terry's protestations. He had no more patience 
with which to gently encourage the younger woman. His lust-hardened penis 
throbbed in a way that demanded instant satisfaction, and he had had enough 
of this school girl stuff. Damn it, he didn't have to put up with a 
cock-teaser who only wanted her own pleasure! 

A second later, the horrified brunette felt the smooth blunt head of Jake's 
penis pressing up against her cringing lips. She clamped her mouth shut in a 
desperate attempt to save herself from this degradation. "No," she cried 
again, but as she opened her mouth to cry, Jake lashed his own tongue 
against her cuntal channel and, before she knew what was happening, had 
forced his pulsing member between her unwilling lips. 

But, moments later, her anguish began to ease. Jake had forced himself into 
her in all brutality, but his skilled oral stimulation, as he crouched 
lewdly over her open loins, was designed to make her change her mind. The 
single-minded businessman worked hungrily on the squirming brunette's wet 
cuntal furrow, feeling her soft moistened pubic hair brush tantalizingly 
against his cheeks. 

"Kiss my prick," he urged. "Make my pecker hard with your sweet tongue, 
Terry." And while he spoke, his tongue drove faster and faster, working its 
way up and down in her steaming crotch. Despite her reluctance to do as Jake 
bid, the excited woman was mesmerized by his hotly flicking tongue, and she 
knew she didn't want that to stop, knew she couldn't move away from it now. 
Incredibly obscene sensations shot throughout her body, causing her to groan 
in mounting desire. 

Timidly, she thrust out her tongue to swipe at the tip of Jake's blunt 
cock-head, and the young woman tasted the strange pungent droplet of fluid 
which hung from its tip. She shivered in forbidden excitement, feeling a 
link of desire surge from that droplet in her mouth down to her own rapidly 
moistening pussy flesh. Jake gasped in ecstasy at the touch of her innocent 
tongue, and with a slow thrust of his powerful hips, plunged his eager penis 
deeper into her waiting mouth. 

Terry felt a strange surge of power, at Jake's moan, felt the power she held 
over him as she held his trembling penis between her lips. "Yes, baby," he 
urged. "Suck me, baby. Oh, suck with your sweet tongue." His words aroused 
her more than anything else had done, and obediently she tightened her lips 
around the pulsing rod inside her mouth, feeling it quiver beneath her 
tentative tongue. 

Jake slaved ever harder between Terry's widespread legs. A strange urgency 
began to build deep within her belly, the urgency of orgasm which she so 
seldom was able to reach when Bill made love to her. Her loins churned with 
the sensation . .. she was loving it, and unable to help herself, loving it 
and striving for release. 

Experimentally, the aroused brunette let her tongue run down Jake's 
sensitive penis, and he sank his thickened cock all the way down into her 
throat. At first Terry was afraid that she would gag from the sheer size of 
it, but soon she adjusted to it, soon she stopped worrying about the 
discomforting aspects, and could only think of her own body, her own 
trembling loins. 

Jake knew that Terry was too far gone to fight anything he might now do to 
her. He felt her hands desperately clawing at his buttocks, felt her loins 
squirming and lifting up to meet his thrusting tongue. His lips covered her 
seeping vagina, and he thrust his tongue deep down into it, causing a low 
guttural cry from the young woman. Her thighs closed convulsively around his 
slaving head. He felt her wet flesh against his extended tongue, and felt 
the walls of her vagina opening and closing in a sucking sort of motion, as 
though she were trying to imprison his tongue deeper and deeper within her 
fiery depths. 

She moaned underneath him, now sucking desperately at the long rod that so 
filled her mouth, her passion-contorted body lost in the fiery intensity of 
the moment. Terry's whole body tensed as she strained upward toward that 
teasing probe sending such maddening desires down between her legs. God, it 
had never been like this with Bill, never this wonderful, lewd, sinful, 
debasing sensation of his tongue reaming out her depths! 

"Oh, yes, yes," she moaned, opening her mouth around the cock-shaft. 
"Ooohhh! I'm going to cum. . . I'm going to cuuummm!" 

Groaning madly in his equal desire, Jake wormed his finger into Terry's 
throbbing vagina, letting his tongue continue to whirl against her erect 
little bud of a clitoris. He knew he would cum in just instants, knew he 
would shoot down her hot little throat, and he wanted them to do it 
together! 

His last effort sent the hotly aroused brunette into a spasm of pure lust. 
She felt her pussy-lips dilate and contract again and again, and her legs 
scissored madly. Tightening her lips about the blood-swollen cock in her 
mouth, Terry's body began to vibrate out of control. She jerked 
spasmodically as the long-desired orgasm invaded her entire body, filling it 
with a crescendo of bliss. 

"Aaaaarrrggghhh," she wailed helplessly. "Ooooohhhhh!" 

And, as she cried out, Jake felt his heated sperm shoot upward from his 
cum-swollen balls and he wildly shoved his lusting penis to the back of the 
moaning brunette's throat. Hot jets of streaming semen cascaded down into 
the cavern of Terry's mouth, and she eagerly swallowed, sucking hard to get 
every drop of pungent cum-fluid. 

Finally, their waves of passion subside, and Jake pulled his deflated penis 
from between Terry's still-clinging lips. He collapsed beside her 
still-quivering body, and for a long time they lay together, their faces 
smiling happily against each other's fully-satiated loins. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Bill Dawson drove his car up to the front driveway of a large, Spanish-style 
home, which was set elegantly amid orange trees. Its sloping lawn, paving 
stone driveway, and obviously professional gardening immediately caused him 
to appraise its value, and to feel a sort of reverse snobbery against the 
ostentatious quality of its owners, Jake and Elaine Travis. 

What especially caught the eye of the airplane parts worker was the huge 
silver and chrome Buick Electra sitting in the driveway. Hell, it was as big 
as a small airplane. He'd forgotten they even made cars this way anymore. 
After all, who in his right mind would drive something like that when it was 
hard enough for Bill to even find the gasoline to fill up his Chevrolet? 
With the two hour waits at gas stations now, he'd even been considering 
trading his car in on a Volkswagen . . . that is, if you could still find 
one for sale. 

Oh well, it was quite a car anyway, Bill thought, and there was no use 
having sour grapes about it. He'd known the Travises had a good deal of 
money, but obviously there was a lot more here than he had ever realized. 
What was it that Jake Travis did anyway? Something about organizing other 
people's businesses, some sort of hustling rather than a decent, ordinary 
forty-hour a week job, he was sure of that anyway, and not for the first 
time in his life did the thirty-five year old man sigh at the knowledge that 
this was probably the only way to make any money these days. Real money, 
that is, and lots of it, enough to buy toys like that Electra. 

And their house reeked of money as well, being in a good neighborhood, with 
so many trees. Probably even a pool in the backyard, from the looks of it. 

In the late afternoon sun, Bill could see a soft light shining through one 
of the large windows, just to the side of the oddly incongruous Dutch 
doorway. He cursed to himself, feeling disappointed that he was actually 
going to have to face these people. He sure didn't look forward to it, 
having had to leave work early, and come around to this part of Sunnyvale, 
before even having a beer before dinner. 

When his wife Terry had telephoned him this morning at work, it had sure 
seemed funny. She had sounded so distant, really not like herself at all, 
telling him Elaine Travis wanted to talk with him especially, this very 
evening. Why, Bill had had to rack his brains even to remember who this 
Elaine Travis was, and when he had remembered, he'd been none too pleased. 
She'd always seemed such a phony, stuck-up bitch of a woman, and he couldn't 
imagine what had turned up that was so damn urgent he had to lose a beer 
over it. 

For that matter, Terry hadn't made much sense at all, neither on the 
telephone nor last night, when she'd come home so late from seeing Anna 
Holm. He'd worked on his airplane book, studying the special course he was 
taking, and then he'd watched the late news, and finally turned in. When 
Terry finally came home, he never woke up, and then this morning, when he 
had to get up to go to work, she slept right through that. 

Well, probably it was just the time difference, probably they were both 
still adjusting slowly to being back in California. Sure, it seemed to be 
real unusual, and he felt a troubled sort of feeling which he couldn't quite 
define, but he pushed it from his mind. He'd promised his wife to stop by 
and see the Travises, and then, after he got home to Terry, he would find 
out just what seemed to be worrying her. There was no use in thinking about 
it now. 

* * * 

Elaine Travis watched from her living room window as her young caller 
alighted from his Chevrolet and pensively made his way across her lawn and 
up to her front porch. She noted with a small and amused smile that he 
paused, hesitantly, just outside her door, before lifting his hand and 
pushing the bell. After hearing the sound of it, she waited a few seconds 
before making her way to the foyer to open the door. 

Isn't it marvelous, recollected the attractive blonde, how the most perfect 
ideas just drop like manna from heaven, to be there exactly when one needs 
them? Last night, when she'd walked in on Jake's episode with her little 
protegee, Terry Dawson, she had felt both angry and worried about the 
possible consequences of the evening. She hadn't planned for that to happen, 
but had hoped to loosen up the prudish young woman, hoped to get her drunk 
enough that she would join into the fun of swinging, but she'd hardly 
dreamed that it would be her own husband! Well, in whatever way, things had 
seemed to work out, but what poor Jake had had to go through with her had 
been really too ridiculous! 

Elaine had never dreamed that one silly girl could have made such a 
hysterical outburst, could have made so damn many outbursts! First with the 
guys taking her clothes off, of course, and Elaine had had to admonish them 
to wait until a lady really wanted it to happen. But then with Jake as well, 
screaming and crying in between every act, and afterwards as bad as before. 
He'd had to play psychiatrist and family priest damn near half the night, 
before the nutty broad would finally allow herself to be driven home to that 
precious loving husband she kept on screaming about. 

What a fool Jake was sometimes, thought Elaine. God only knew what might 
have happened . . . perhaps police, or mafia, or even Hells Angels 
descending on their party. After all, no one knew what this Bill Dawson's 
reaction would be to the news that his wife had been out sucking cock half 
the evening. In the morning, when Jake had told her the whole story, she'd 
had to think really fast, and Elaine complimented herself again on her idea. 
It had been a marvelous brainstorm to think of telephoning Terry; why, it 
had been simply inspirational! 

Solicitous as a big sister, Elaine had just telephoned Terry, and as she'd 
expected, the younger woman had started to cry again right there on the 
telephone. But when Elaine offered to explain the whole night to her 
husband, Bill, magically the sobbing had ceased, and Elaine knew the 
situation was saved. So easy ... so absurdly easy, and here was Bill Dawson 
now, walking up to the door, looking innocent and a little irritated. Well, 
he wouldn't be irritated for long, Elaine was sure enough of that. 

Cursing again under his breath, Bill wondered once more just what could 
possibly be of so great significance that it necessitated his driving all 
the way out to this side of town. And a little resentment against his wife, 
Terry, arose for an instant--wasn't she always getting him into absurd 
situations like this very one? He should have just told her to do her own 
business with the Travises, and gone home as usual to drink his beer and 
watch television. 

"Well hello there, old friend, it's really been a long time, hasn't it?" 
Elaine sprang open the front door to greet Bill in her most effusive manner. 
He certainly hadn't expected such a welcoming party; to Bill Dawson's mind, 
they were just acquaintances with Jake and Elaine Travis, and he'd never 
felt the least desire to have any closer relationship than just being 
acquaintances. Why, when they'd first come to town, and Terry was so happy 
to have met Elaine, he'd put his foot down about it. They just weren't his 
class of people, and he for one was no social climber, up the fragile rungs 
of Sunnyvale society. 

Elaine was all dressed up, in a low-cut black dress, as though she were all 
ready for a big evening in San Francisco, ready for dinner on Fisherman's 
Wharf, or maybe even for dancing. The younger man caught his breath for an 
instant, as he realized just how good-looking the statuesque blonde really 
was. She'd certainly been attractive enough before, but nothing like this. 
Her hair was pulled back in a stylish twist, held with a jeweled clip at the 
side of her head, and then cascading down her bare shoulders in blonde 
curls. And, his eyes descending lower, past the bare shoulders, he noticed 
with admiration the deeply revealing dcolletage, and the ripe mounds of 
Elaine's cleavage. 

"Yes, Elaine," replied the wide-eyed man, stammering just a tiny bit as he 
spoke. "Yes, it has been quite a few months." As she said nothing in 
response to his statement, he continued. "Terry told me that you wanted to 
talk with me about something... something important, I think she said." As 
he spoke, he wished he had at least inquired of his wife just what it was 
that this ravishing woman had wished to speak about, so that now he wouldn't 
sound like such an idiot in front of her. 

"Well, yes," she replied, smiling warmly. "I wanted to see you about 
something special, that's all. Let's go inside." 

Bill followed his hostess, watching the seductive sway of her provocative 
bottom as she moved. He tried hard to appear nonchalant, tried to feel like 
one of those guys who can handle any situation, any dame, but somehow this 
sort of thing never worked for him. 

"Uh, where's Jake this evening?" he asked, knowing even as he spoke how 
silly he would sound to this worldly blonde. 

"I'm a grown-up girl," Elaine smiled in her sweetest fashion. "And my 
husband even lets me stay in the house, all by myself!" 

Goddamn! thought the younger man. Is this babe coming on like it sounds, or 
is it only my wild imagination? 

But Bill continued to follow Elaine, through the elegant foyer and into a 
large, wood-paneled room. Bill looked around at the walls, which were hung 
with a collection of old firearms, old hunting prints in gold frames, and 
photographs of proud-looking English setters holding pheasants in their 
mouths. It looked almost corny, like a lodge back east or something, but it 
also looked authentic, and nervously Bill decided he'd not want to tangle 
with the owner of all those vicious-looking weapons and dogs. At one end of 
the room stood a massive billiard table, and at the other, a high oaken bar. 

Above the bar were shelves stocked with full and partly full bottles of 
various liquors, just like in a cocktail lounge. The blonde woman 
immediately walked over there. "What can I get you to drink?" she asked, her 
voice purring. 

What Bill Dawson really wanted was a beer, a nice cold can of Coors beer, 
but his sense of dignity kept him from simply stating his desires. "Well, 
how about a scotch," he suggested. 

"With soda?" asked his hostess, "or on the rocks?" Elaine reached for the 
decanter of well-aged scotch, but then paused, her shapely arm extended 
upward to the shelf. Bill found he had to look away from her curvaceous 
body, from the suggestive arch of her body, the full thrust of her breasts 
which was all the more obvious as she stood on tiptoe, reaching upward. "I'm 
having a Pernod," Elaine suggested. "Maybe you'd like something like that." 
She brought down the exotic-looking Pernod bottle, and leaned on the counter 
to face her guest, resting her elbows against the polished wood in such a 
manner that her fully rounded bosom was almost entirely exposed to his 
embarrassed gaze. 

"Well, anything you're having, I guess I'll try that Pernod." Bill had never 
drunk this, and was only vaguely aware that it was some sort of a foreign 
concoction, but he did not want to appear too unsophisticated. 

Dexterously she poured out two glasses and handed one to the airplane-parts 
worker. "Cheers," Elaine murmured, raising her glass to her full wine-red 
lips. "Here's to us!" 

"Uh, cheers," Bill responded, cautiously sipping at the licorice-tasting 
liquid. Here's to us! Shit, it was so damn obvious what this woman was all 
about! Even though she was one of the best-looking broads who had ever so 
openly come on to the young husband, he wanted no part of it, and told 
himself so. A piece of ass isn't worth jeopardizing what you and Terry have 
got! his mind told him firmly. 

He decided to get down to business, and not let the fancy dame smile at him 
in that knowing way, as though he were just a kid in the sandbox or 
something. "What did you and Jake need to talk with me about?" he asked, a 
little nervously. He wanted some explanation, wanted to know just what was 
going on, what, that is, besides the increasingly obvious fact that he 
preferred to ignore. 

"Well," smiled the buxom blonde. "I guess that can wait till Jake gets home 
. . . business, you know. But that won't be for absolutely hours and hours." 

She lowered her elbows, practically shoving her lovely dcolletage in the 
confused man's face. 

For an instant, Bill felt tempted to take this woman up on her blatant 
invitation, felt tempted to just screw the hell out of her snobby 
nouveau-riche body, to make her pay for the sneering manner that showed in 
her very presence. Resolutely, he pushed this sadistic thought to the rear 
of his mind. 

"So Jake won't be home for awhile?" he asked. 

"Sure," purred the richly-endowed blonde. "But I'll try not to bore you too 
awfully much while we wait for him. I reckon well find something to amuse 
ourselves with..." 

Bill straightened up from the bar, a boyish blush across his good-looking 
features. He took a deep swallow of his glass of Pernod. "Uh, I'm sure we 
could," he replied, "but I've got to hurry home. I'm sure Terry will have 
dinner ready any minute now, and I don't want to be late. Got a lot of 
reading to do this evening, as well." Damn this stupid woman anyway! What 
sort of friends did his wife have? 

"Well, actually," responded the determined blonde, "Terry and I talked about 
just that. I told her we'd be taking a good long while, and she was real 
understanding about it. She was hoping you and I could get to be friends, 
just like she and I are . .. and she and Jake are." Elaine lifted her Pernod 
to her mouth and finished off the last of the strong liquid. "Let me get out 
of this dress, though." She arched her back, pushing her shoulders back and 
thrusting out her breasts in the act. "It's just awfully uncomfortable." 

Without waiting for a reply from her bewildered male guest, Elaine Travis 
turned from the bar and led the way down a white corridor, past long glass 
windows which looked out onto the backyard, which Bill could still see 
clearly, despite the quickly darkening night. He noticed that indeed there 
was a swimming pool, a big rectangular one with a diving board, instead of 
the usual kidney shaped kind which dotted so many Sunnyvale yards, making 
the city look like a Chinese Checker board of blue marbles, when viewed from 
a low-flying airplane. 

"It's in here, Bill," gestured Elaine, standing in the doorway of a 
sumptuous-looking dark-paneled room. It was small and cozy, but the glint of 
money overpowered the look of coziness, and Bill Dawson mentally appraised 
the Columbian tapestries which hung from the walls, the genuine Persian rug 
covering the parquet flooring, and the large copper kettles and vases, 
obvious antique pieces, casually arranged. 

Elaine caught his eye surveying her furnishings, and the glint of a smile 
showed across her even white teeth. "Maybe you'll like to look at those old 
pots," she said, motioning. "Or...", and her voice deepened. "Or maybe you'd 
rather watch while I slip out of this tight dress." 

Bill swallowed down the hot lump that instantly rose in his throat. Goddamn, 
but she was asking for it, teasing him like he was a queer who hadn't the 
balls to do it to her! Yet he could think of no suitably squelching reply, 
and once more she had shown him her power. How dare she! he swore under his 
breath. How dare that country-club bitch treat me like one of her caddies! 
Why he, Bill Travis, knew he was more of a man than that aging, 
cigar-smoking, nearly-bald husband of hers, and he had more than half a mind 
to just turn her over and tell her so! ' 

But, despite the younger man's angry rationalizations, he did not open his 
mouth to defend himself. Instead, he settled his muscular body down into a 
surprisingly comfortable leather sling-armed chair, which he recognized as 
being "Danish Modern", and stared through the doorway into the dressing-room 
bathroom combination. And he watched Elaine, watched her every movement 
which bespoke her unmistakable womanhood, and he wondered in spite of 
himself why he had never before been attracted to this luscious specimen of 
Sunnyvale female. 

Yes, he finally admitted to himself, he wanted to watch this female animal, 
and words finally came to his bashful lips. "OK, I guess I'll just watch 
you," he said, trying to keep his voice light and joking, but as he spoke he 
could detect an undercurrent of desire. He felt as though a stranger had 
begun to take over his physical body, and passions for strange women, 
passions he had successfully repressed during all his years of marriage to 
his dear wife Terry, were raising their ugly heads. Never before had he said 
anything like that to another man's wife, to his own wife's friend. Bill 
wondered in a panicky way just what force it was that was entering into him, 
and he knew he'd have to fight against it. 

Elaine paused, still standing in the dressing-room doorway, and she smiled 
at the obviously innocent and bashful man. "Good boy," she commented dryly. 
"You just watch all you want." Elaine felt a glow of satisfaction, the glow 
she always experienced upon realizing a man's lust for her, even an 
unexpressed and unadmitted lust. For the forty year old woman adored 
attention, adored having men watch her undress. She'd never had to earn her 
living as a stripper, but if worse came to worse, it'd just be child's play. 
Hell, she did it in front of Jake's clients just for kicks, for a perverse 
desire of watching total strangers lust after her human flesh. 

Bill looked sulkily at his nearly-empty Pernod glass, thinking about what a 
fool he was being. Rationally, he knew that Elaine was just another dumb 
broad, a bunny without brains, who probably couldn't even cook like his own 
wife could. So why was he getting all stammery like some punk schoolboy? He 
should just let her know what he thought of her time-wasting techniques and 
silly come-on games. And he should go home and have a good dinner, and not 
listen to this bullshit about how Jake had to talk about something really 
drastic. For all Bill knew, Jake was as likely as not away for the past two 
weeks, and this was just his horny wife's reaction to his absence. 

Bill glanced up from his reverie just in time to see Jake's lusciously 
curved wife standing only yards away from where he was seated, and as he 
watched, the overly tight black dress fell away to lie in a heap on the 
Persian carpet beneath her feet. Elaine stood casually in front of him, 
letting the effect of her lushly ripened body sink into the consciousness of 
the unwilling man in front of her, behaving almost as though she were all 
alone in the room. Yet her body's studied carelessness was only too aware of 
its admiring audience, all too eagerly listening for that intake of breath 
that meant she was desired. 

Bill felt a slight jerk underneath his Levi's as her body came into full 
view, and another jerk, an imperceptible hardening, as she turned to pick up 
her dress from the carpet. The full, voluptuous mounds of her ass-cheeks 
paraded in full view before him, showing off a narrow nylon strip of panties 
between her shapely thighs. As she bent over, the panties slid in a teasing 
manner into the crevice of her buttocks, and when she righted herself again, 
they remained caught in the hollow between her rounded mounds. Then Elaine 
walked across the room, taking her dress to a hanger in the closet, and her 
ripe buttocks' cheeks jiggled slightly as her body moved in its 
self-conscious manner. 

And now, try as Bill might have tried before, he could not deny to himself 
this woman's obvious desire for him. He could no longer attribute her 
shockingly provocative behavior to the fact that maybe her husband was away, 
or that maybe he never really admired her, that maybe she never got a chance 
to flirt any longer. No, this was the artful behavior of a female in the 
full intensity of her heat. In her sophisticated way, Elaine was howling 
like a cat in the back alley, and Bill found himself responding like a 
tomcat in a neighboring alley. Damn the consequences, but it wasn't his 
fault by now. Hell, it was Terry's fault, making him go here alone, if it 
was anyone's fault at all. She should know what her friends were all about. 

A final sip on Bill Dawson's glass of Pernod drowned every bit of caution, 
drowned every little moral voice within his body. Hell, everyone knew that a 
man wasn't responsible for his actions if a woman came on like this? It was 
different for women of course, but he was a simple male animal, and he was 
responding to the age-old mating call. And he wasn't going to turn it down, 
not this time! 

Bill watched in intent curiosity as Elaine returned from her closet, dressed 
now only in brassiere, garter belt, and those nylon panties which still 
alluringly clung to the crack between her shapely buttocks' cheeks. Her 
sheer stockings shimmered in the dull light coming from the Tiffany lamp on 
the work desk. 

She grinned at him, still mocking, teasing, as though she were far, far 
older and wiser. "Could you bring me another drink?" she asked. "And one for 
yourself, of course, lover." 

Bill's heart quickened a pace as he heard her words. "Sure, just a sec," he 
responded, and set off down the corridor towards the bar. In the dark, he 
managed to refill the two glasses, and lost no time in returning to the 
voluptuous woman who stood, still smiling secretively, in her doorway. She 
had now shed her undergarments, and although Bill felt a tiny twinge of 
disappointment at having missed the no doubt erotic disrobing, he was more 
than pleased to see her curving body clad solely in a translucent nylon 
robe. It was also cut very low at the top, and she showed a good deal of 
cleavage between her thrusting breasts. 

'Thanks, dear boy," she purred as Bill handed her one of the full glasses of 
Pernod. He winced at her nickname, and felt a sort of sadistic anger, a 
desire to hurt this mocking female, to show her which sex really controlled 
the species. But at the same time he felt the glow of conquest, the thrill 
of chasing a female, of taking her for the very first time when everything 
was new and unbelievably erotic. This feeling had slumbered in dormancy 
during all his years with his wife Terry, and only now was it awakening . . 
. how could he have so long forgotten the power of a stranger's body? 

Elaine pointedly lowered her gaze to rest on the growing bulge at the crotch 
of her guest's Levi's. Then she raised her eyes to his, smiling an enigmatic 
smile. "So . .. ," was her only comment. 

Bill steadily met the shapely blonde's pointed gaze, knowing he could 
outstare her if it had to come to that, knowing he could outdo her in every 
human way, now that he had relinquished his inner battle and decided to play 
the game. He flexed the muscles which controlled his penis, and noted in a 
pleased manner that his hostess had caught the minute movement underneath 
the tight fabric of his jeans. She was really aware of a man's body, of that 
he was sure, and the knowledge struck the airplane-parts worker as being 
maddeningly exciting. 

Eagerly, the blond man followed Elaine through the doorway of her dressing 
room, and through the tiled dressing-room bathroom combination into a 
bedroom, which he had not before noticed. Elaine moved in front of him in 
her smoothly seductive manner, her hips rolling like well-oiled machinery. 
But as they reached the bed, and Bill was trembling with a raging lust, she 
stopped, pouting. In a surprisingly commonplace, matter-of-fact voice, the 
gorgeous seductress stopped her aroused suitor. "Oh Bill," she said, "I 
forgot about the lights. Could you shut them off, please? Jake gets so upset 
now, with the energy crisis and all, if I leave them on." 

Well, isn't she just the obedient little wife! thought Bill with irony. 
Obedient, even while she's getting another guy into the sack! But he 
dutifully followed her request, returning to the study to switch off the 
colored glass Tiffany lamp, and also the more modern fluorescent and 
infra-red lighting which dimly illuminated the dressing room and bath. 

When Bill returned to the side of Elaine's king-size bed, she had lit an 
old-fashioned kerosene lamp, and its gentle glow showed up her body in the 
most flattering possible light. 

He glanced down at her, feeling his still-erect penis quicken in further 
lustful expectation. The tiny buttons on her gown were undone practically to 
the waist, and it hung away from her body to such an extent that he could 
see down the translucent robe to the thin hair-lined lips of her vagina. Her 
legs were parted, and Bill felt spasms of arousal course through his body, 
at the sight of the smooth surfaces of Elaine's full inner thighs. A pleased 
smile came to his features as she opened them further to his curious glance, 
and he knew that she also was desirous, that her exposure was clearly saying 
only one thing. 

Bill's eyes finally rose from Elaine's exquisite cleft between her thighs, 
rose up her belly and settled on the full large mounds of her breasts. Her 
ripe nipples stared up at him, thrust upwards as though they had a life of 
their own, and already erected in anticipation. 

"God," murmured the young husband, his admiring eyes firmly affixed to the 
luscious body of his hostess. "God, you're beautiful," He wondered why her 
voluptuousness had never before struck him as being particularly attractive, 
much less at all erotic. Now that he was this close to her obviously 
desirable body, it was all he could do to restrain himself from ripping off 
that translucent robe, from tearing his own clothes away and diving into 
that hot pool of nakedness. He wanted his lips against her cunt, the way 
he'd never, never been able to do with Terry; he wanted her breasts squeezed 
against him . . . But he restrained his impulse to grab her, wanting to draw 
it out as long as possible, wanting to savor every inch of her delicious 
flesh, even if it took all night long. 

And then Elaine's mocking words hit him, caught him in the middle of his 
exciting reverie. "It's not so often that one meets a first-timer," she 
said. "I mean a first time sleeping around on your wife. It is, isn't it?" 

For an instant, a stab of pain struck into Bill's consciousness, for of 
course her words were correct. Never before had he come so close to 
betraying Terry's trust in him, and his feelings of guilt were still very 
strong, although nothing could make his body stop now. Why did she have to 
ask . . . why, when it was so perfect, when it was so meant to be? His 
thoughts turned to Terry, but he could not dwell on her, not now ... 

Finally taking the initiative, Bill did not answer Elaine's seemingly 
tactless inquiry, but instead brought his lips firmly down against hers. In 
willing response, she reached up to him, curling her arms around his body 
and pulling him down against her nearly naked flesh. Easily and naturally, 
one of his legs dropped down between her open thighs. God, it felt fine! 
thought the younger man, felt fine and smooth, with her supple body tightly 
against his muscular one. 

Harshly, Bill ground his hips into Elaine's softness, and she moved her 
thigh up against his crotch, causing his cock to grow to a painful hardness. 
It throbbed against his tight Levi's and he could feel the wetness of semen 
seeping from the glans as it grew more rigid against her. The thought oddly 
aroused the excited man, and he hoped she could feel the heated moisture on 
her persistent thigh as she continues to massage against him. God, was she 
good! Her soft thigh pushed up into his penis and testicles, making his cock 
jerk as though he was about to explode, making his balls ache with pressure 
of cum surging up. 

Bill thrust his tongue deep into the mouth of his seductress, and she sucked 
gently on it and nibbled with her sharp little teeth. Chilling sensations 
ran down Bill's spine, all the way from his neck to his tensed buttocks. 
Pulling his lips away, for an instant he thought of poor Terry, but he had 
to put that thought for from his consciousness. It was all right anyway, for 
she'd never know, and if she ever heard, she was far too innocent to believe 
such a story of lust and adultery! 

But Elaine spoke his thoughts aloud. "Don't worry about Terry," her voice 
whispered seductively. "I'll just teach you a few things that you can use to 
make her real happy. And she'll never guess where you picked them up, 
either! Don't worry about anything at all," she breathed into his tingling 
earlobe. "Just take off all your clothes." 

Bill Dawson was hardly even aware of her words. He could concentrate only on 
her hungry desire for him, could only feel her quivering in excitement 
beneath him. Steadily, the seductress moved her thighs against his loins. 

"Do you want me?" she panted. "Do you want to fuck me?" Her teeth were 
clenched shut and there was a wild look to her eyes. 

"Oh, so much, baby, so much," he replied, excited still further by the lewd 
sound of her words. 

"Then let me know," breathed Elaine's hoarse voice. "Tell me!" 

"Baby," he answered, wildly excited, "I want to fuck you!" 

"Tell me more," breathed the hotly aroused woman who continued to writhe her 
subtle body under his. "How are you going to fuck me?" 

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you till you scream," he said, pleased at this new 
game they were playing. "Fuck you till you beg me to stop!" 

"Just see if you can, darling! That's what I want you to make me do!" She 
rubbed against his bursting crotch area in salacious circles. "You better 
get those clothes off and stick it in me, before I start screaming right 
now!" 

Bill stood up from his hostess and began to rip the clothes from his body, 
feeling only a small pang of guilt and self-consciousness as he stood over 
her. His cock stood up in rigidly naked erection, and the young husband 
thought again of how long it had been since he had felt the way he did now, 
so desirous, so expectant of the unknown that was to come. 

Elaine lifted her body and slid out of her translucent robe in an expert 
motion. She looked up at him, enjoying his eager eyes on her nakedness, 
savoring the moment of expectancy, the newness of the first time. Then her 
eyes dropped to his rigid penis which throbbed just before her face. "I want 
it, darling. I want your big beautiful cock. I want it deep up in my pussy, 
twisting and turning in me! I want it so bad!" Her voice was a hoarse groan, 
and although Bill could still hear the actress in it, could still hear the 
way she chose her words carefully, her desire was more than real! 

He lay down next to her, his hands cupping the lushly-shaped curves of her 
buttocks as she stretched out beside his body. She felt so warm and soft 
against him, and she raised her lips up to his and locked her mouth tightly 
against them. As she did so, her hand reached downwards, between their two 
bodies, for the hard rod of his penis. Bill moaned, as she closed her cool 
fingers around his throbbing cock-shaft. The lusty perfume of her body was 
maddening to the young husband, as she ground her pelvis tightly against his 
loins. Then suddenly she twisted her body and pulled him over on top of her, 
in a smooth movement. She opened her thighs wide and his legs slipped easily 
between them. 

"Oh, take me now," she cried out, in burning desire. "Ram your hot cock up 
my cunt before I die! I need it... I need it!" 

* * * 

Jake Travis carefully adjusted the control on the miniature German camera 
which was pointed directly over the bed upon which his wife writhed. He was 
irritated at her having lighted only the kerosene lamp, but its light was at 
least better then nothing. She always had to be so damn romantic about it! 
he thought angrily to himself. Always getting so carried away by whomever 
she happened to desire that moment that she forgot about his hobby of making 
films and still photographs. 

This time he was just a little worried about how the quality would be of his 
finished product, and his hand nervously adjusted and re-adjusted the 
complicated apparatus. It was not that he felt he would ever need these 
pictures for pressuring purposes ... but it just never hurt to keep good 
records, and besides, Jake enjoyed the voyeuristic aspects of sex often more 
than he did the real thing. After twenty years with someone, if you want 
your marriage to last, you just have to spice it up and keep it spicy. That 
was his attitude, and he was lucky enough to have found a wife to share it. 
At least they wouldn't end up in divorce courts like so many Bay Area 
couples, or if they ever did, it sure wouldn't be about adultery. 

Jake felt his own cock growing steadily harder as he watched attentively 
while Elaine writhed about on the bed, grinding her naked form against their 
visitor's thrusting penis. His wife sure liked a good screw, and she sure 
was a good one herself, to boot. For Jake knew full well that her 
performance in front of his camera was no act. 

He thought then of shy Terry Dawson,-her beautifully full but yet still 
girlish figure, with its waspish waist and long bronzed legs. It sure had 
been worth it last night at the City Hall, worth even the long hours of 
comforting and reassuring her, just for the taste of her lush young flesh. 
And he knew, despite her protests to the contrary, that Terry had loved his 
oral administrations, just as he had loved the sweet taste of her 
brunette-haired pussy. 

But he knew there would be more times, many more opportunities to initiate 
sweet Terry into the delicious practices, of which he and Elaine were so 
skilled. There was still time for some of his eager meat to find its way 
into her tight little cunt as well as her mouth! 

* * * 

Bill began to move against Elaine, but she was too quick for the young 
husband. Her hands reached down between their two bodies to circle around 
his throbbing penis and guide it between the moistened lips of her hotly 
desirous pussy. Bill groaned above her as he felt her move his male flesh up 
and down between her full thighs, using its blood-filled head to part her 
soft pubic curls. He felt those wispy hairs graze teasingly against it, felt 
himself grow to even greater hardness, until he was aching from the 
more-than-bearable pressure. He knew he could not restrain himself for 
another second, and he thrust his hips forward in a sudden motion that drove 
his aching penis up into the gaping cavern of her moistened pussy with 
flesh-ripping fury. 

"Ahhhhh," she cried beneath him as he felt the warm, rubbery sheath slip 
wetly over his sensitive cock-head. He entered her with a sadistic kind of 
fury that caused him to not spare any of his strength, that caused him to 
want to hurt this lustful female. Instinctively, Bill knew that this was 
what his exciting partner desired. He was quickly discovering that Elaine 
was a new kind of woman, a real woman. Christ, if Terry could see him now 
she just wouldn't believe it, but he didn't care at all! 

His long hard cock plunged up her cunt to the warm depths of her belly. She 
felt so warm and tight around him, causing the length of his rigid penis to 
ache, until the moisture of the passage surrounded him and lubricated his 
way. 

Suddenly he reached the end, and felt his balls slapping hard against her 
upthrust ass-cheeks. Never before had Bill experienced such a feeling of 
having a woman totally impaled upon the end of his deeply stabbing shaft! 

Elaine Travis cried out involuntarily beneath Bill's impaling penis, 
twisting momentarily to escape the sudden shooting of pain. But he thrust 
harder into her loins, screwing his pelvis as far as it could possibly go, 
and she knew she was beyond escape. She was totally skewered by this strong 
younger man, and she knew it was her just desserts for having gleefully 
embarrassed his pride, having practically shamed him into bed. 

Bill lay atop Elaine for a moment, to allow the pain of his sudden entry to 
somewhat subside. He felt a sense of power, knowing that in the past few 
instants, he had gained the upper hand with this stubborn female. She was 
subjugated to him now, and he reveled in his knowledge. Then Bill flexed the 
head of his penis again, bringing another moan from between Elaine's 
clenched teeth. For an instant, Bill fantasized about how he looked over- 
this luscious woman, fantasized about how it would look to Terry ... or to 
Jake! Why, what would that rich bastard think to see his wife so naked, so 
see her wrapped around another man's hips, with another man's prick stuck 
right up into her belly! 

Well, my God in heaven! swore Jake under his breath. That young fella is 
sure a lot better than either of us thought he'd be. The older man was far 
from bored by the performance which he watched from behind his camera lens, 
buried cleverly within the wall between the bedroom and the library. All was 
functioning properly, he was pleased to note, he decided, just to make 
things a bit more exciting, to hook up one of the tape recorders, and so 
have a tape of any interesting noises either of them might make. 

Jake hurried away to fetch the tape recorder, not wanting to miss any of the 
action. Man, was he glad they'd thought of doing these home movies! What a 
brainstorm! He only regretted that there was no movie of his last evening 
with little Terry, but it just couldn't be helped. Well, still photographs 
were at least better than nothing, and perhaps next time they could make a 
proper film. And he and Elaine could watch it before bed; they had found 
that one of the best mutual turn-ons was watching each other sucking and 
screwing with other people. It sure kept their marriage exciting. 

* * * 

Bill ground his loins down onto the squirming flesh of the wildly aroused 
female beneath him. She arched her loins up at him, raising them both off 
the bed by several inches. Moaning unintelligibly beneath his stabbing 
penis, she opened and closed her legs around his hips, working her body up 
and down in the ageless rhythm of intercourse. Elaine's mouth hung wide 
open, and her head flailed from side to side in passionate abandonment. 

"Oh, it's so good," she cried out. "More . . . more! Hurt me! Shove your 
finger up my asshole and hurt me ... " 

Bill Dawson had never heard such an obscene request, had never heard a 
beautiful woman using such foul language, had never realized he would find 
it so erotic when she did so. He reached under her ass-cheeks as he pushed 
his cock in rhythmical movements into the moistness of her cunt. His hand 
pulled apart the fleshy cheeks of her buttocks, and his middle finger probed 
searchingly for her anus. 

Then Bill's finger made sudden startling contact with Elaine's sensitive 
nether ring. He felt a small rivulet of warm moisture running down the 
furrow, near where his fervent cock was pounding into her. The moisture 
lubricated that tightly puckered little orifice, and he experimentally poked 
at it with the tip of his extended middle finger. Pushing hard, he felt it 
give just a little, and then suddenly give way completely. His outstretched 
finger effortlessly slipped into the rubbery ring of her anus, up to the 
first knuckle joint. Elaine jumped forward as though she had received an 
electric shock, and cried out at the searing pain. 

"Aaaaaaarrrrrggggghhhh! You're hurting me!" 

But her loud cry only excited her lover, and again he thrust his outthrust 
digit up into her warm depths, all the way up to the second knuckle. 

"Aaaagghh!" she screamed out again. "Oh, yes, baby! Hurt me! Hurt me more!" 
She cried again and again in her masochistic ecstasy. 

Despite the pain, or perhaps because of the pain, Bill could feel the 
excited blonde woman screw her buttocks back against his finger, until it 
was sunk completely up into her nether depths. He jiggled it inside of her, 
rotating it around in the rubbery moistness of her rectum. He could even 
feel his own cock, through the thin membrane which separated her two 
passages. It was as though he were fucking her twice at the same time, and 
the thought exhilarated the younger man. While she groaned under his touch, 
he began skewering his finger to the same rhythm as his cock, sliding both 
in and out of her passion-tormented body. 

Elaine trembled in excited response to Bill's obscene finger, jerking back 
only once, when his nail scraped against the tender flesh of her anus. She 
was totally immersed in his rhythm, and she opened her legs still wider 
apart to afford her lover greater access to her doubly impaled loins. 

Bill could feel his penis growing and growing inside her moist cunt; it felt 
like it was expanding so much that any second now he would explode from the 
intense and exquisite pain. His heavily-laden balls slapped against her 
upturned ass-cheeks, and he hoped it would not be much longer until the 
wildly aroused woman reached her own climax. He knew he could hold back 
until it happened, and felt sure of his own abilities of control. Elaine 
seemed to be nearly berserk with passion, writhing madly against the shaft 
of his impaling cock. He began ramming up into her with long drawn-out 
strokes, still with the same rhythm as the finger plunging in and out of her 
tight wet anus. 

Elaine gripped Bill so tightly between her thighs that he felt as though he 
was in a vise of warm flesh. Never missing a beat, she opened and closed 
them around his back as he stabbed his finger and penis into her pussy and 
anus. Wordless gurgles emerged from her larynx in a way that told Bill they 
were beyond her conscious control. The realization that she was so near 
orgasm excited Bill to even deeper thrusts up into her hungry cunt, exerting 
all his strength. Never in his most bizarre fantasies had the younger man 
imagined sex like this, and he wanted to make it as good as possible for 
her, so that he could have more, and more, and more. The uninhibited desire, 
the well-practiced movements, the sheer lust of the older woman were driving 
him wild! Nothing he had ever experienced before could compare with this 
writhing blonde moaning out her passion underneath his pummeling loins. 

"Fuck me," she cried. "Fuck me harder! Oh sweet lover, fuck me . . . fuck 
me!" A stream of obscenities poured from between her lush lips, and she 
drove her lover on, pounding her heels into his kidneys as she cried out. 
Her legs were pulled so far back that her whole crotch was upraised, and she 
strove constantly to push herself even more tightly against the thrusting 
penis which she craved so greatly. Elaine's blue eyes rolled in her head, 
her lovely face contorted out of recognition, with beads of straining sweat 
on her forehead. 

"Oh," she gasped. "Oh! Sweet Jesus, I'm cumming!" She yelled the words 
loudly, wanting her husband behind the camera to hear, wanting everyone to 
know what peaks of ecstasy she was reaching with this young airplane parts 
worker. Oh, the feelings he was arousing in her! Oh, how he was lusting 
after her! She mumbled on, coughing and crying out her climaxing tide of 
passion. Her legs reached up so far that her ankles locked around the 
shoulders of the handsome young stud who continued to thrust his dexterous 
rod of flesh deeply up into her convulsing pussy. Striving for the maximum 
sensation, Elaine squirmed beneath his hard cock in a savage frenzy of pure 
lust, gripping her lover with every ounce of strength within her power. 

* * * 

Well, look at that! Jake grinned at himself in voyeuristic appreciation as 
he watched his wife being skewering by this near-stranger and listened to 
her outpouring of lustful cries and curses. Man, look at her go! 

* * * 

And then a low wail began, coming from the woman who wildly thrashed 
underneath Bill Dawson's pumping body. The wail grew louder as the two 
panting lovers slapped together in brutal abandonment. Jake's wife contorted 
and her nostrils flared as she skewered her loins against Bill's aching 
hardness, locking her thighs around his back, while she spasmodically jerked 
against his stomach. 

Elaine held in her breath, forgetting even to breathe in her excitement, and 
then expelled it sharply. Her body collapsed in a limp heap onto the bed, 
and she lay still, except for the uncontrollable quivering of her cunt, 
which was still clasped fervently around Bill's throbbing penis. He pushed 
himself deeply up into her and then lay still above the exhausted woman, 
allowing her a few moments of rest. 

With great efforts of self-control, Bill kept himself from screwing into 
her. He had never felt or seen anything like this in his whole life. He 
throbbed his cock-muscles, flexing himself deep inside her belly, but Elaine 
still was breathing raggedly underneath him, her eyes closed in spent 
exhaustion. 

Damn, he thought. His testicles bulged against her tired pussy, and his cock 
ached with urgent insistency. Suddenly he felt very masculine and virile, 
felt proud at having outlasted this seductress. 

"Come on, baby," he growled finally, pulling at her passion-wracked 
buttocks. 

"I've got some more here for you, whenever you're ready." 

Suddenly his partner revived, and smiled dizzily up at her eager lover. "You 
just roll over, big man," she said. "I've got something else in mind for 
you." 

But Bill Dawson was in no mood to play games, even potentially very erotic 
games. A moment ago, he would have placidly followed Elaine's suggestion, 
but now he was fired with his own performance, a performance which had 
managed to exhaust his trembling hostess. "Sorry, baby," he answered, and he 
shoved himself back up into her depths. 

In an instant, the exhausted blonde was revitalized. The feeling of a 
throbbing cock in her cunt was enough to wake her from her totally satiated 
state, and she again strove against Bill. 

He groaned over and over, his lips working crazily and incoherent mutterings 
spitting from between his clenched teeth. Now that Elaine had reached her 
own fulfillment, she was only seeking to make it good as possible for her 
partner. She twisted from side to side, causing unknown sensations in his 
throbbing rod of flesh. 

Then suddenly he gasped sharply. He felt the hot sperm begin its final dash 
from within his bulging testicles, and begin spewing out in pulsing streams, 
into her sucking cunt. 

Bill's hands tangled cruelly in her hair, holding onto Elaine's head as he 
pounded his body into her loins. Voraciously she responded, thrusting her 
pelvis back and forth to draw every aching drop from his squirting penis. 
Finally, he moaned his last, grunting deeply in his complete fulfillment. 
Slowly his cock deflated in the depths of her heated pussy, and his 
over-tensed body began to relax, although still the blonde woman continued 
to twist gently against him, as though she could never get enough of the 
sticky sperm. 

Both partners were now totally sated and covered with beads of perspiration. 
They lay together, aching from the intensity of their physical union. Elaine 
nibbled gently at Bill's shoulder as he lay, collapsed, eyes closed, on her 
bed. 

"Was it okay?" she asked finally, sounding like a combination of a knowing 
siren and a shy schoolgirl. 

"Oh," he managed to gasp. "Oh, Elaine, it was so fantastic! How can you do 
those things to me?" 

She laughed happily. "I guess practicing has really paid off," she replied 
proudly. 

Something about her reply struck him as odd, even tawdry, but then who was 
he to complain after this luscious woman had just taken him on such a wild 
ride? But he just had to ask her one thing. "Do you do this a lot, Elaine?" 
he finally inquired. 

"Do what?" she asked innocently. "Fuck, you mean?" 

"Yeah," he replied. "Yeah, fuck." He tasted the word in his mouth. He'd 
never really used it in this way, but only in locker-room conversation, or 
sometimes as an expletive at work. To simply say it seemed odd at first, but 
refreshingly honest. "Go out on your old man, I mean," he added. 

"Oh, sure," she replied languidly. "Pretty often. I guess every time someone 
comes along who really turns me on. But Jake doesn't care. He really digs 
it, you know, and it helps keep our marriage happy. You know what I mean?" 

This was an idea that young Bill Dawson had never even considered. Back on 
the East Coast, he'd always heard that things were wild in California, but 
during the past ten years in Sunnyvale, no one had done anything to uphold 
that theory. In fact, he had come to dismiss this wild image of California 
as one of those things everyone talked about but no one did anything about. 
Now he realized that here was someone who was really living that way, and 
this realization came as a shock to the artless man. 

"I guess so," he finally answered. "I mean, I understand what you're saying, 
but I could never be that way with my wife. If she ever looked at another 
guy, I guess I'd kill her." This sounded a little strong to Bill, so he 
modified it by adding quickly, "but of course she wouldn't want to!" 

A little smile played around the corners of Elaine's ripe lips. "Double 
standard, huh?" she asked. "You can go out on her, but she's got to stay at 
home and be the good little wife?" There was irony in her voice. 

Bill hastened to defend himself. "Well, I think it's a lot different for a 
woman," he said. "For a man, it's nothing to screw somebody, but women don't 
do it unless they mean something by it. At least most women, women like 
Terry." 

Suddenly, Bill wanted to leave. Talking about Terry was beginning to make 
him feel sick and guilty. She was probably standing over the stove right 
now, worried sick about him having been gone so long, and trying to keep his 
dinner from over-cooking. He wanted to go home, to leave this house of loose 
moral standards, and go home to his wife. 

But Elaine was not ready to end this discussion. She was warming up to a 
good quarrel. She sat up in bed, her big bosom brushing against his body. "I 
think that's a load of crap," she replied crudely. "No woman ever told you 
that. It's just what a bunch of chauvinists think. It's just the way they 
rationalize their lies and deceits. Maybe you'd better ask that wife of 
yours what she really thinks about sex!" 

The thought seemed ludicrous to Bill. "Not Terry," he insisted loyally. 
"Terry's good in bed and all that, but she comes from a pretty sheltered 
background. She'd never go for any of those wife-swapping ideas, or anything 
else like that. She's a real old-fashioned woman," he said proudly. 

The sarcastic irony that had been playing over Elaine's features turned to 
downright humor. She stifled a giggle, staring at his puzzled face. And then 
she laughed, her breasts shaking in her amusement. 

"Well, you men think you're so smart, don't you," she managed between 
breaths. "You cuckolded idiots! If you knew. . . oh, if you only knew!" She 
was choking in her own mirth, laughing in cruel triumph over the dumbfounded 
young man. 

"What d'you mean?" mumbled Bill. "I don't know what you're talking about." 
But even as he spoke, the horror of her words struck against him in a 
reality he would rather not have to look in the face. Could this woman be 
speaking the truth? Is this why Terry had sent him here? What sort of a 
terrible set-up was this? Oh God, God! he thought desperately, as the pieces 
started to fall into order. 

"Your little wife, sweetie," came the harsh voice of his seductress, grating 
into his burning ears, "is just as wild about a little extra sex as you are. 
Only I'm afraid she was just a little over-eager the very first time. She 
bit off a bit more than she could really ... ha, ha . . . chew. You get my 
point?" 

But Bill was incredulous; he could not accept what this laughing blonde was 
really saying. "What are you saying?" he cried. "What are you trying to tell 
me? Don't mince your words with me, Elaine Travis. I've got to know!" And 
then, even more angrily, he asked, "And what's the real reason behind this 
little set-up? Why am I here like this? You planned this, didn't you? 
Planned for me to fall right into your arms like the horny sucker that I 
guess I am!" 

And the realization hit Bill's ego like a ton of bricks, totally destroying 
the male pride which had been so inflated by his performance of just minutes 
before. So she hadn't wanted him after all. . . so it was all part of her 
goddamn act! Or was it? He couldn't decide. 

"Good thinking, darling," purred the blonde temptress. "Exactly what my 
plans were. You're not nearly as stupid as I thought you were. And suppose I 
told you that your domestic little priss of a wife balled nearly half of the 
Katayama Lighter representatives over at the Old City Hall last night? That 
she was so drunk my old man had to pull her off them, but then she grabbed 
his pecker in her mouth and wouldn't stop till he drove her home? What would 
you say if I told you that?" 

"No!" Bill's face was white with shock and his voice barely audible with 
incredulity. "You're a lying bitch! This is all some crazy friggin' story! 
It's a trick, and I don't believe the tricks of whores like you; I don't 
believe one goddamn word of what you're saying!" 

But when the door across the room suddenly flew open, seemingly of its own 
accord, Bill Dawson felt his still-naked body begin to shake in confusion. 
He saw an illuminated room, filled with various video-tape and stereo 
apparatus. Someone's workroom? . . . and then he noticed a tape recorder 
sitting on the shelf, with its two reels still spinning mutely. And Jake 
Travis, his body looking as ragged as if he himself had just enjoyed a 
ferocious orgasm, stepped into the bedroom. Ignoring Bill's naked body on 
the bed, he stepped over to his wife in a casual manner, and handed her some 
still photographs. "I think these are the pictures you wanted, dear," he 
said. 

When Bill saw Jake walking toward the bed, he instinctively grabbed for the 
sheet to cover his nakedness. He noticed that Elaine, however, made no 
effort to hide her voluptuous breasts or any other part of her body. She was 
not the least bit disconcerted by her husband's startling entrance. Again, 
he cried out mentally, It's a trap! It was all a goddamn set-up, into which 
he had fallen like an unsuspecting ton of bricks. 

"Here, lover boy, take a look at these." Jake's outstretched hand held the 
snapshots out to Bill, and Bill automatically accepted them. He glanced down 
at them, feeling so completely confused and frightened and dazed that he did 
not really comprehend the situation. His eyes focused on the amateurish 
photographs--sloppily taken Polaroids. 

"We must apologize for the quality," came Elaine's smoothly casual voice. 
"No one seemed to have a proper camera last night, so I just popped into 
Jake's study with his old Polaroid." 

"Well," replied her husband. "The ones from your little party tonight will 
be a whole lot better. Real professional quality, you know. Elaine never was 
much good with a camera . . . but as you can see, her other virtues more 
than make up for this lacking." 

He sounded so nonchalant that he could well have been talking about his 
wife's tennis or sailing abilities! 

"We try to record everything," said Elaine. "We're real old-time home-movie 
nuts. There are countless reels of films and tapes in the trunks, as well as 
the ones in the study. You never know when your guests will get tired of 
television, so we like to keep films around that we're sure they'll enjoy. 
Maybe sometime you and Terry can come over, and we'll have a little private 
showing of the fun we've just had." Elaine spoke with a sharp trace of 
malicious sarcasm, and her husband chuckled. Bill felt his hair on the back 
of his neck prickle, and he knew it was standing on end. 

He studied the badly-exposed pictures with shaking hands. The first one 
showed a naked girl standing up, with two men grabbing at her body. But that 
couldn't be Terry--he felt sure of that. The overexposure must be another of 
their greasy tricks, he thought vindictively. 

Confidently he turned to the second of the snapshots. This one showed a 
thickly bulging penis shoved into a woman's willing mouth, and he looked at 
her contorted face again and again. Could that be Terry? The features were 
all distorted, but it was certainly a clever resemblance to his wife's 
profile. He felt unsure, and turned over all the others, slowly and 
methodically looking for likenesses. More positions, and it was obvious to 
Bill that they showed Jake sucking a woman's cunt, but not until the final 
picture did he see a clear and un-smudged photograph of his own wife. His 
own wife! There was no mistaking her; he would have recognized that 
anywhere. And she was lewdly lying back on a leather-looking couch, her 
breasts standing up against her lovely tanned body, while Jake Travis had 
his head stuck down between her loins. 

"If you'd like any copies, I'm sure we could have some ordered specially for 
you," came Jake's taunting voice. 

"Now Bill, dearie," said Elaine, sarcastically, "You mustn't be too angry 
when you get home to the little woman. It just really wasn't her fault. Shut 
up in that dinky house all day with the dishes and the laundry and no one to 
talk to .. . why, it's a wonder she didn't go berserk years ago and rape the 
milkman. Or invite the dog next door in for a quickie! I just saw her 
predicament and thought I'd help her find a way out. Also, of course, she 
needed some money--seems you just don't put out like Daddy used to--and sex 
is the age-old way for a girl to make a few extra dollars!" 

Bill looked unbelievingly into Elaine's coldly calculating eyes. "So you two 
pieces of shit are responsible for this? So you forced Terry into some 
filthy orgy?" His words were calm, but he could feel his belly knotted with 
more intense anger than he had ever known. 

"Now, slow down, fella," grinned Jake. "I'll have you know I saved that 
broad from getting yourself into a real orgy! And then I just gave her a 
little loving comfort, like she obviously wasn't getting enough of at home. 
Or at least, not the right kind of it! Maybe next time, we can ..." 

But Jake's speculation was abruptly cut off by the crashing of knuckles into 
his jaw. Every ounce of strength in the airplane parts worker's fist slammed 
into the older man, and Jake crumpled, caught off guard. He fell in a heap 
beside the bed, a little trickle of blood running down his chin from the 
corner of his mouth. He sputtered and spat out another mouthful of the 
sticky red liquid, and then walked into the bathroom. Loudly, he spat blood 
out into the sink. 

He looked directly at Bill as he walked back into the bedroom, ignoring the 
defensive posture of the younger man, and speaking slowly. 

"All right, you little shit. Just get some clothes on and get the fuck out 
of here. Go see your cunt wife and get her story. But get out right now." 

Jake spoke threateningly, and Bill considered giving him another punch. But 
the fight was gone out of him . . . there was no reason to hit this older, 
obviously weaker man. And besides, it wasn't Jake's fault--it was Terry's. 
Terry was the one who had caused all of this by cheating on him. And Terry 
was the one who was going to pay for it! 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Terry Dawson stood over her copper-tone kitchen stove, wishing her husband 
Bill would come home soon. Had she done the right thing in accepting 
Elaine's offer to do all the explanations? Or should she have told him 
herself? Would that have been better, more considerate, more honest? 
Somehow, when Elaine had telephoned that morning, it had seemed like a huge 
neon sign, "Way Out" had flickered through the telephone receiver. For Terry 
knew how good Elaine was at explanations, at getting someone to see things 
in a different light. 

Her speculations were getting her nowhere, she realized, and she set out 
again to cope with the more immediate problem at hand, the fact that the 
chicken roasting in the oven was about to be forever ruined. There really 
did not seem to be any possible way to save it, unless Bill came home within 
the next half-hour or so. Of course if it had only been an ordinary roast 
chicken, she could merely have turned off the stove, and left it at that, 
accepting the fact that it would not be exactly at the peak of delicate 
readiness when Bill made his return, but she had tried a new recipe and now 
felt so nervous about the poor bird. All those lovely vegetables which now 
simmered in a delectable sauce in the roasting pan would be reduced to a 
cold and soggy mass if Terry now turned off the heat control; and if she did 
not turn it off, they would be burnt beyond recognition and the whole thing 
would be totally inedible. 

Still debating this major decision rather than turning her worried thoughts 
to her husband's coming reaction, Terry mused thoughtfully over her cookbook 
collection, seeing if one of the many gourmet authors had some sort of ready 
solution to her particular dilemma. She turned page after page, reading 
every word that each cook had to say about catching, cleaning, plucking, 
frying, or roasting a chicken. However, no one seemed to have any solution 
for what to do when one's husband doesn't come home in time to actually eat 
the bird, and Terry was considering telephoning her mother in Newport Beach 
for advice on the matter, when she heard the sound of gravel crunching under 
the wheels of Bill's Chevrolet in the driveway. 

Terry's hands on her cookbook began to shake, and she could tell from the 
sound of her husband's footsteps that things were not going to go as well as 
she had hoped. Oh God, she thought for an instant, why did I ever tell 
Elaine she could tell him? I've never lied to Bill, but why didn't I lie 
just this one time? Why did I do it? 

She set her cookbooks back on the shelf, wiped her hands on her apron, and 
turned to meet Bill, who had just opened the door and was now striding 
through the house. 

An instant later they were facing each other, Terry trembling with fear and 
Bill with anger. "All right," he snarled at his wife. "What have you got to 
say for yourself now?" 

"Oh Bill," cried out Terry. "I should have told you about it myself, but I 
just couldn't, darling. I just couldn't! I don't know what happened, but I 
thought it would be better coming from Elaine, that's all. One minute I felt 
all right, and the next minute I don't know what happened. I just feel a 
sort of blank in my memory . . . " Terry's voice was clear and distinct, but 
it was showing signs of cracking. She gasped sharply, fighting to hold back 
her tears. 

"The hell you don't remember!" Bill's voice was harsh. 

"Honest, darling, you've just got to believe me. I didn't know anything like 
that was going to happen. I just wanted to make some money, because I felt 
so sick about the bank balance, and . .. and .. . oh, please believe me! I 
didn't do it to hurt you!" 

"How do you expect me to believe anything you say now, you slut! You lied to 
me about where you were going! Gardening catalogues, my foot! No wonder the 
roses have aphids every year, if that's what you do when you claim to be 
going over to Anna Holm's house." 

"No," she cried defensively. "No! It was the first time, Bill. I've never 
ever lied to you before!" 

"And besides," continued Bill's grim voice. "Elaine Travis didn't exactly 
tell it the way you did." 

"What . . . what do you mean?" she whimpered, biting her lip to keep from 
breaking down crying. 

"She said you couldn't get enough. She said Jake had to pull you away from a 
bunch of guys and then you grabbed his ... oh, shit, Terry, I can't say it! 
I've just found out my wife's a two-bit whore, and I can't give you a 
play-by-play account of what I heard." 

"But it isn't like that!" cried Terry. "How can you believe all those lies? 
You know I'd never do anything like that!" 

"I don't know anything about you anymore! I saw those pictures of you! I saw 
the picture of you and Jake and it sure didn't look like a rape scene to 
me!" he shouted. 

Terry had given way to the tears that welled inside her and now they 
trickled in a steady stream down her cheeks. "I didn't want to do it," she 
cried in a little, frightened voice. "I don't know what they did to me. I 
guess I drank too much or something, because it's all so foggy. I didn't 
feel like myself at all! It's like some awful woman reached out and took 
over my body! It wasn't me doing that! I've never cheated on you." 

For an instant Bill recollected the formidable effect the Pernod he'd 
imbibed had had upon his own moral fiber. However, he pushed this thought 
from his mind. It was different in Terry's case, after all, for if she 
hadn't been such a slut, he could never have gone to bed with Elaine Travis. 
It was all Terry's doing, he thought, momentarily forgetting that he had 
been a willing partner in Elaine's seduction scene before he ever suspected 
that Terry had so much as looked at another man! 

"Please, Bill, say you believe me! I can't live with myself if you think I'm 
lying! Please! It's all so horrible, and you're all I have left! You've got 
to believe me!" 

She gripped his arms, her face contorted with anguish; she begged him to 
forgive her, all pride stripped from her soul. But roughly her husband 
pushed her away. "Don't you touch me now!" he exclaimed. "Don't you ask me 
for forgiveness, or for understanding! That time is past, and there's only 
one more little thing I've got to do to you!" 

"Wh-what?" asked Terry in her state of misery, wishing she had a 
handkerchief to dry her eyes on. She was so utterly unhappy that she'd even 
forgotten the chicken in the oven, and could only wish desperately that they 
were back in Hawaii, feeling the happiness and sunshine that now seemed so 
long ago. 

"I saw that picture of you," exclaimed her husband roughly. "I saw you 
sucking Jake's prick like there was going to be a shortage of cock for the 
next two years. You've never put your holier-than-thou lips on mine in five 
years! Well, you can't fool me any longer with that fuckin' upper-class 
virgin act! I've seen into your very soul, now I think you need to be taught 
a lesson!" 

"Get your hands off me!" Terry gasped, as her enraged husband roughly 
grabbed her around the waist. 

"You shut the fuck up," Bill snarled. "I've always wanted to do this to your 
hot little ass, and now it's going to be something you'll never forget!" 
With his strong hands that had just finished gripping Elaine's body and 
punching her husband in the face, he grabbed his wife's shirtwaist dress at 
the collar and ripped it open in a swift motion. She screamed in panic and 
clutched at her brassiere-clad breasts, but her husband was too quick for 
her. 

"You've been drinking," she cried, smelling the Pernod on his breath, as 
well as some Scotch he'd had at a bar on the way home. The odor of sex also 
emanated from her husband's body, but Terry was too afraid, or too 
inexperienced, to detect the sweet-sticky remains of semen, cuntal juice, 
and perfume. 

"You bet I've been drinking!" he answered grimly, as he tugged the printed 
cotton fabric away from her body. "Why shouldn't I drink? Any man'd drink if 
he found out his wife was a cunt!" He then ripped the dress and apron away 
and tossed them on the floor in a torn pile. 

"Noooooo!" she cried again. "No! I'll scream, Bill Dawson, and all the 
neighbors will hear! You leave me alone or ... or I'll phone the police! 
I'll phone my mother!" 

"Why, so they all can get a piece of your ass, too? Spreading it a bit thin, 
baby, aren't you?" Every bit of compassion was gone from the young husband, 
and his mind seethed in revenge against his woman who had betrayed him. He 
held her in such a vise-like grip that the young woman whimpered in pain. "I 
guess your mother would really like to hear about you putting out for Jake 
Travis, wouldn't she?" As he spoke, he continued to rip away her bra and 
panties, until she was left in only her short white socks and gardening 
shoes. And then he threw her roughly onto the newly carpeted floor of their 
living room. 

Terry gazed up in wide-eyed panic at her gentle husband who had suddenly 
become such a maddened stranger. It was obvious she hadn't the ghost of a 
chance of fighting him off. And besides, she knew that whatever cruel or 
unusual punishment he was about to inflict on her was more than deserved. It 
was all her fault, her heart cried out, and a masochistic part of her wanted 
to be beaten, wanted to be punished. Terry's body went limp in despair and 
she lay sobbing on the floor, but still her enraged husband did not take 
pity on her plight. 

Bill felt stabs of lust and revenge shooting through his body. Boy, he'd 
really teach her a lesson she'd never forget, he thought, and his impatient 
cock began to throb and swell against his Levi's. Maybe she'd sucked off 
that bastard Travis, but he was pretty sure the sobbing brunette had never 
had it in the ass, and by God, he was going to shove it in her! 

He knelt roughly down on the floor and yanked off his own Levi's and work 
boots. His hands reached for her full breasts and pulled his wife's body up 
to a hands-and-knees position. Roughly he kneaded the swaying mounds, and 
felt the nipples tweak to instantaneous erectness. The thought of that, less 
than twenty-four hours ago, another man, maybe lots of men, had fondled 
these very same breasts, fired him with fury. Man, he would show her to not 
go out looking to get laid! He couldn't wait another minute to satisfy his 
urgently pulsating penis, to show his cheating wife he was a better man than 
Jake Travis was! 

Terry was crying in rough, jagged-edged sobs. What was the use of trying to 
escape? What was the use of anything now? Bill would never believe that last 
night had not been her fault, and maybe he was right, anyway, maybe it had 
been her fault. There was certainly no denying the fact that Jake's obscene 
caresses had aroused her in a way Bill seldom did, no denying the fact that 
she'd reached a violent orgasm under his practiced tongue! Oh, God, the very 
humiliation of it, of responding to a stranger the way she could not respond 
to her own dear husband. Terry thought she could never live with herself 
again, and now it hardly mattered what Bill did to her! 

"Oh, no!" she groaned, crying in despair rather than protest. Never in her 
life had she dreamed that something of this sort would happen to her--the 
very shame of it was more than the young woman could bear. 

Bill's painfully aching penis was swollen to almost full erection by now, 
and as he massaged its smooth skin it jerked in impatience beneath his 
fingers. 

"Forgive me, Bill! I'm sorry!" Terry whimpered pathetically. But her husband 
took no heed of her sorry state. His vengeful feelings and usual lack of 
self-confidence put him in a vile and sadistic mood. 

I'm going to show her a few things that'll make her sorry, he vowed to 
himself. Bill massaged his heavy rod of male flesh with a chuckle. His hands 
tightened upon Terry's quivering ass-cheeks. Forbidden thrills of excitement 
shot through his wife's sensuous body, only serving to make her feel the 
more contrite. 

"Spread those legs now," barked her husband. "Spread 'em just like you did 
for Jake Travis!" 

"Oh, please, Bill," moaned Terry. "This isn't the right time. Let's just 
forget all about this until tomorrow!" But she knew her husband's temper, 
and knew there was no real use in arguing with him in his present state. 

"Fuck you in the ass, you cheating whore," shouted Bill. Terry felt his 
fingers yanking the half-moons of her full buttocks apart. In the next 
instant, a hot, wet bluntness was pressuring up against the crack of her 
naked ass-cheeks. 

"Bill!" cried Terry in surprise. "Wh-what are you doing! NO!" The innocent 
brunette could not even bring herself to consider the awful act she 
suspected he had in mind. But an instant later the thick cock-head was 
thrusting directly against the forbidden orifice of her puckered little 
brown anus. 

" A A A A AHHHH!" she cried out in abject terror. 

He was going to shove his pole of hard flesh into her rectum! It would kill 
her . .. and, worse, it was so perverted that she'd never again be able to 
look herself or any other decent human being in the face! Her own dear 
husband must be out of his mind! She had never known he could even possibly 
dream of doing such an unnatural thing, such a truly sick thing. 

Bill felt a sadistic thrill course through his loins as his wife's 
terror-stricken cry reverberated in his ears. He was really making her pay 
for her lewd behavior, and he was glad of it! His hungry penis pushed harder 
against the moistness of her tiny anal opening, but still it remained firmly 
clenched. The obscene sight of his huge cock with its throbbing blue veins 
smashed up against her tiny nether passage so incited him that he could not 
resist giving her white flesh a stinging slap. 

"There you go, cunt!" he exclaimed, carried away by his position of 
dominance. 

"Aaaahhh!" gasped his wife, the muscles of her tensely held anus 
involuntarily relaxed and, with a lewd popping noise, the pulsating 
thickness burst through the elastic ring at the end of her anal channel. 

As the heated thickness rammed deeper and deeper into the forbidden opening, 
searing pain pierced through the cringing young wife. Blackness swam before 
her pain-dimmed eyes, and for a brief moment she thought she might faint, 
and hoped she would. A strong, burning smell came to her nostrils, and she 
realized, impaled on her husband's penis, that her roast chicken was burning 
in the oven, but there was nothing she could do. Her chicken dinner was 
ruined and her life was ruined, and she could do nothing to stop either! But 
then Bill's huge length of cock struck to the hilt and everything but the 
unbearable agony and mental degradation faded from her brain. 

"AAAARRRRGGGG! OOOHHHWWW!" the obscenely skewered brunette wailed. Her 
husband gave his penis a sadistic twist inside the strained anal channel, 
punishing her for crying out. She bit down on her lower lip, trying to be 
silent, scarcely daring to breathe. 

Bill's plunging penis could feel every vein and crease in his wife's 
virginal rectum. His lewdly swinging testicles brushed against the smooth 
flesh of her widespread buttocks, and this stimulation nearly drove him mad 
with passion. For several long moments, he let his penis lie embedded inside 
the fear-tensed passageway, now and then making it throb, and sending spasms 
through Terry's naked body. 

Finally, Terry felt a glad relief as the long rod of flesh withdrew from her 
aching anus, and she was grateful that the humiliating violation was over. 
But before she had a chance to do anything but relax her taut muscles, she 
yelped in anguish as his hot thickness once again plunged into her rectal 
depths. But to her surprise, since her muscles had relaxed, the pain was now 
supportable. 

Dear God, the young housewife prayed in desperation. Let it be over soon! 
Make him stop pounding me! Make him understand! 

But her husband's cruel cock stroked in and out of her rectal channel, 
unheedingly. She felt as though her anus was on fire, but the pain was 
nothing compared to her feelings of self-disgust. So this was her price--and 
she knew she deserved it, but why .. . why? Her simple life had turned into 
a torturous nightmare, and Terry was afraid it would never, never end. 

"What's the matter, you cunt?" Bill leered cruelly. "Is my cock too much for 
your precious ass?" As he spoke, he gave her nipples each a vicious tweak. 
An almost inaudible gasp issued from the squirming brunette, exciting her 
husband still further. Finally, when he could tell by the involuntary 
undulations of her hips that she was growing aroused in spite of herself, he 
insinuated one hand below her twitching pubic mound, and fumbled for the 
tiny nerve center of her clitoris. 

Bill's stimulating fingers on her nipples and clitoral bud, combined with 
his continuous stroking deep into her virgin anus, aroused the unwilling 
wife to the point where she could no longer exert her willpower. Strong 
fingers of unwanted desire stole along her nerve endings, causing her 
helpless loins to quiver in response. 

The impaled wife found that, once she began to relax, the hard thrustings of 
his bloated penis into her tiny rectum no longer sent out such terrible 
stabs of pain. In fact, it even felt pleasant, and the thought of enjoying 
such a perverse and disgusting act upset Terry even more than did the 
previous torture. Gritting her teeth, Terry tried with every ounce of energy 
she possessed to erase the erotic tremors of desire that coursed up and down 
her spine. It was just too shameful to actually enjoy such a dreadful thing, 
and the young wife thought in despair that the very act of her enjoying it 
just went to prove what an essentially rotten and depraved person she was. 

Yet, even as she remonstrated against her own feelings, the lewd image of 
herself on the living room carpet while her husband pounded his lusty cock 
into her cringing buttocks, served only to cause waves of masochistic 
arousal to reverberate through her writhing body. Instead of putting her to 
shame, her mental picture only increased the forbidden desire deep within 
her traitorous loins. 

Bill was perfectly aware of the effects his hand manipulation and 
impassioned rectal fucking were having on the whimpering, subservient female 
beneath him. He arched his muscular hips again and again, bearing down with 
fury between her shivering buttocks. The forbidden sight of his huge penis 
slicing again and again into her wife's virgin anus excited him even more 
than screwing Elaine Travis had done. Despite his feelings of anger toward 
the female beneath his pummeling body, or because of these very feelings, 
Bill Dawson felt extremely satisfied with himself. 

"You like that," he taunted at his wife. He took his hand away from 
underneath Terry's quivering body. "You like that, don't you?" 

Terry let out an involuntary groan of regret, as his stimulating middle 
finger left her erect little clitoris, where it had been circling in a way 
to rouse her desires. But she felt immediately ashamed of her groan--it was 
a sign of weakness, an admittance of her perverted appetites. Clenching her 
teeth, she tried with her whole will to hold her body rigid and unresponsive 
to her husband's disgusting invasion of her anus. 

"Say it!" he commanded. "Tell me how much you want it in your hungry ass!" 

As he spoke, his fingernails dug even more deeply into the resilient white 
flesh of Terry's helpless buttocks. Little red points of pain appeared on 
her trembling skin, and she gasped in a real agony. 

"No ... no ... no ... " she protested. 

Never could she humiliate herself by saying something like that to the 
maddened stranger who was her husband. 

Bill furiously increased the tempo of his fiery strokes, and his 
semen-filled testicles slapped in furious rhythm against the smooth flesh of 
his wife's ass-cheeks. Already, deep in his burning balls he could feel the 
urgent stirrings of his hot, impatient sperm, but he was first determined to 
hear Terry beg for every single drop of it in her tight little rectum. 

The skewered brunette housewife felt as though she were losing her mind. 
Despite her good intentions, strange tremors of erotic pressure increased 
throughout her stuffed anal passage, and invaded her entire body. Much to 
her horror, her faithless loins began to thrust back to meet every one of 
Bill's rampaging strokes. His penis struck, again and again, so deeply up 
into her rectum that it felt as if her entire insides were on fire with a 
burning erotic sensation. A stream of incoherent syllables bubbled out from 
her throat before she could stop them. 

Hardly knowing what she was saying, a lust-agonized voice that must not have 
been her own, cried out. 

"Yesss!" it wailed. "Yes! Do it to me! I want it! I want it! Don't ever 
stop! Ooooohhhh!" 

"That's right, you bitch!" gasped her husband, between his powerful strokes. 
"That's what I wanted to hear! You know you love it, you hot little slut!" 

He's right, thought Terry, shuddering at the terrible realization. He's 
right. I'm everything he says I am, and I might as well just die right now! 
This horrifying acceptance of her essentially evil, out-of-control self, 
permeated every inch of Terry's sensuous young body. But much to her horror, 
the treacherous sensations within her loins were only heightened by the 
dreadful thought. Tingles of pleasure-pain shot through her loins, and she 
continued to jerk back against her husband's throbbing penis. 

I'm nothing but a slut! she thought in her masochistic agony. I deserve 
every bit of this! Nothing is too bad for my evil soul. 

"Yes," she cried out in her torment. "Yes! Hurt me! I deserve it! Hurt me 
some more!" 

Her lewd shout of submission fired her husband as nothing before ever had, 
and his pent-up sperm was suddenly released from his balls in a hot, thick 
flood. 

"AAAAARRRRGGGHHH!" cried the airplane parts worker, as exquisite release 
surged through his long penis. With all his might, he gripped with unheeding 
fingernails on the soft mounds of his wife's spasming buttocks, never 
bothering to notice that he was cruelly digging into her tender flesh. 

"I'm cumming!" he cried. "Cummmmmiiinnnggg!" 

And, as the hot spurts of male sperm splashed deeply into his wife's 
stimulated anal channel, an unknown pressure exploded within her hotly 
quivering belly. Her swollen clitoris was so titillated, both by Bill's 
fingers and then by rubbing against the living room carpeting that, with the 
additional stimulation of spurts of seething semen, her sensuously-tuned 
body exploded in a violent and undreamed-of orgasm. 

"OOOOOOOHHHHHH!" she cried out. "AAAARRRGGGHHH!" she echoed her husband's 
wail. Waves of masochistic climax beat through the depraved housewife's 
voluptuous body, and all her guilt and shame were momentarily forgotten. All 
she knew was sheer bittersweet ecstasy, ecstasy coming from more agony than 
she had ever experienced in her sheltered life. 

For a seeming eternity, the deeply imbedded cock-shaft continued to flood 
Terry's rectal passage with hot jets of male sperm, as her body thrashed in 
mindless sensuality on her pile-carpeted living room floor. Then, at last, 
Bill's penis began to deflate and grow limp, and he withdrew it from his 
wife's ravished anus, which made a lewd little popping sound. 

Terry remained flat on her belly upon the floor, feeling a sort of peace as 
the waves of orgasm slowly faded away from her satiated body. But her 
tranquility was shattered by Bill's gruff voice. 

"Like that?" he taunted the still figure of the debased housewife. Bill 
Dawson felt his ego swell far beyond its former size. Man, he thought, I've 
really shown her! And really proved she is a slut! He knew he'd be sorry 
later; later on would come the regret and the sadness, alone in some rented 
room, wishing for the easy past. But now he could only feel his own triumph, 
and this feeling seethed through his satisfied body. 

Terry neither looked up nor replied to Bill's taunting question. For she had 
nothing to say for herself, not now, and not ever again. Her husband might 
well be diabolically cruel, but had he not proved beyond a shadow of a doubt 
that she was a despicable whore, never to be trusted again? It was only too 
obvious that her body had responded to this unnatural assault in a way no 
decent woman's body would have responded, and now she could say or do 
nothing to alter that dreadful fact. Silent sobs began to wrack the young 
wife's naked body, and it was several moments before she could manage to 
choke out a word. 

"Go away," she pleaded, not looking up from the floor, her voice a dull and 
lifeless whisper. "Please go away and leave me alone." 

Bill reached for his hastily discarded Levi's and shirt. Quickly he dressed 
himself, flushed with triumphant revenge. "Okay," he said. "Okay, I'm going. 
See you in divorce court." These were his parting words as he slammed the 
door behind him. 

For a long moment, his wife lay in the same position, her shoulders heaving 
with sobs of anguish. She could hear her husband's boots striding across 
their lawn, and then her ears caught the sound of the Chevrolet motor 
starting up and pulling away. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

He's gone, the battered housewife repeated to herself. Bill is gone. My 
marriage is over. But the words had no meaning for her tortured 
consciousness. Finally she rolled her body over and sat up, feeling a 
distinct surprise to find herself in her own living room, with the familiar 
furnishings standing there. How could she be the same person after all these 
terrible events had taken place. It simply did not seem possible! Hadn't 
everything changed much more than this.. . but no, only she herself had 
changed. Her living room furniture looked back at her impartially, unseeing. 

I must be going mad, the despairing woman thought to herself. I must have 
gone mad. It's all a dream and someday I'll wake up. Someday. .. But a 
terrible smell coming to her nostrils forced her out of her reverie, and she 
finally sat up. She felt bruised and aching as well as debauched, and her 
mind had become a dull throb of half-consciousness. 

Rising up to a standing position, Terry suddenly identified the awful smell 
that wafted through the house. It was her chicken, burnt to a crisp, still 
in its roasting pan in the oven. And she knew she could not continue to 
wallow in her misery. No, life must go on; she let out a sharp sigh, walked 
into the kitchen, turned off the oven and opened a window. 

Still feeling as though she were in a dream-like daze, Terry opened her 
husband's liquor cabinet and surveyed it's contents. She wished she could 
remember how to make a Stoned Sour, she thought, a wry smile playing at her 
once-innocent features. She knew she needed a drink, needed total 
obliteration that only alcoholic sleep could bring. Finally she poured some 
vodka into a tall glass, adding ice cubes from the freezer and apple juice 
from the refrigerator, remembering, even in her terrible condition, that 
apple juice has less calories than orange juice. 

My life is ruined forever, she thought, the words beating dully into her 
brain as she sipped her makeshift screwdriver. 

Forever ruined, she repeated, but still she could feel no effect, not a 
trace of reality, in her dulled consciousness. 

The telephone rang and slowly, hesitantly, the still-naked housewife walked 
over to pick up the receiver. 

"Hello," she said automatically. "Yes, this is Terry Dawson." She looked 
puzzled for an instant, listening to the voice on the other end. And then 
her voice cheered, acquiring a false, girlish note of gaiety. "Oh yes, 
Dennis Perry. Of course I remember. Well, no, I wasn't doing anything 
special tonight. Half an hour? Okay, sure, I'll be ready. Bye now." 

Hanging up the receiver, Terry could feel nothing but amazement at the 
transformation which had taken place in her mind during the past few days. 
But why not? she reasoned. What was left? Anyway, her chicken dinner was 
burnt and Terry Dawson was a hungry woman. 


End
