Comforting Billy
by Karen Ziegler 


Chapter One 

Jean Thompson pushed the light cotton dress from her shoulders and let it 
fall loosely to the floor at her feet. Clad now in only the flimsiest of 
brassieres and skimpiest panties, she looked up at herself in the long 
mirror above the dresser, her dark eyes roving narrowly over the lushly 
revealed curves of her body. 

Naturally a brunette, she had required only a couple of trips to the 
swimming pool to develop what appeared to be a cultivated tan, and the rich 
brown hues of her flesh contrasted sharply with the white of the brassiere 
and bikini panties. The brassiere cups barely served to conceal the swollen 
brown buds of her nipples and the panties were so nearly transparent that 
she could clearly distinguish the dark silken curls of her pubic hair 
through the thin material. She stared at it for a moment, then lifted her 
gaze up the smooth plane of her belly back to her hardly concealed breasts. 
Then she shifted her attention to the reflection of the door as he heard her 
husband's footsteps in the hall, her hand moving at the same moment up 
behind her back to the snap of the revealing little garment. 

A surge of anticipation, of almost desperate hope, coursed through the 
half-naked brunette as she heard the doorknob turn. She waited, catching her 
breath. As it eased open she returned her eyes to her own invitingly exposed 
flesh, deftly flicking the brassiere snap undone and shrugging her shoulders 
to let the straps slip off her arms. The flimsy garment fluttered away to 
free the two luxuriously contoured mounds of her breasts as Bill Thompson, 
clad in striped pajamas that had always reminded Jean of a chain-gang 
uniform, stepped through the door and stopped, his eyes widening slightly at 
the unexpected sight that greeted him. 

The tall, respectacled man stopped, his mouth opening and slowly closing. 
Now almost completely naked, his sensual young wife waited, aware that his 
position just inside the door, in relation to the position of the mirror, 
afforded him a perfect view of both the front and the back of her almost 
totally exposed body. She looked at his eyes, trying to gauge her husband's 
response in them. He was looking at her, conscious of her inviting 
nakedness. His gaze seemed almost to bore into her soft brown skin. But from 
his expression she could not determine what he felt. 

Then his eyes met hers in the mirror. She bit her lip as a little shiver 
darted down her spine. Her breathing was coming in hoarse strained gasps. 
Her full, upflung breasts rose and fell rhythmically. She stared into her 
husband's eyes, her own eyes almost watery, glossed over with desire. Then 
she cast her gaze downward. As yet not a word had passed between them, but 
had there been an onlooker it would have appeared she was conceeding defeat 
after an exchange that, however silent, was explicit and of a perfect 
communication. And as she looked down, her husband walked over to the bed 
and started to pull the covers carefully back. 

"Bill . . . ?" The voluptuous brunette turned slowly, one hand unconsciously 
brushing over the tingling tips of her nipples as the thumb of the other 
danced down the smooth flesh of her lower belly to hook into the tight 
elastic waistband of her low-hanging panties. 

"Yes, dear?" her husband answered, not looking up, standing now almost with 
his back to her beside the luxurious king-size bed. 

"How . . . how do you feel?" 

"All right. Tired," he said. 

She bit her lip again and watched him get into the bed. Slowly she eased the 
panties down off the ripeness of her buttocks. As she moved toward the bed, 
he turned off the lamp. 

Jean slid between the covers and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. 
Then she rolled toward her husband, the smooth skin of her nakedly trembling 
body brushing against the rough material of his pajamas. He hadn't responded 
yet, had given her no sign that tonight would be any different from last 
night or the night before, but she still couldn't quell the little shiver of 
anticipation that tingled along her spine. Tonight it was going to happen. 
It had to happen because it hadn't in so long, and all day at work she'd 
been thinking about it. She'd decided. She was determined. Tonight she 
wasn't going to lie passively waiting, hoping against hope. Tonight if he 
didn't take the initiative, she would take it herself. 

"Bill," the aroused brunette sighed, running her long fingernails down her 
husband's back on the outside of the pajamas. "Darling ..." 

A little shudder coarsed through her as she inhaled his warm masculine 
scent, as she felt the delicious tingling begin down between her naked 
thighs. The young wife had the body of a movie starlet, firm and yet so 
voluptuous that men stopped to stare at her as she passed them on the 
street. But she tended to discount other men's reactions to her beauty and 
sensuality. Other men she didn't care about. It was her husband she loved, 
but he'd been so busy recently completing his Ph.D. thesis in biophysics 
that he paid little if any attention to her. 

But tonight, she again reminded herself, it was going to be different. She 
would do whatever she had to to remind him of the way he used to feel about 
her, in the days when they were first married. Supporting him while he 
completed his studies wasn't easy for Jean, and she knew it wasn't easy for 
his ego either. She knew that he was preoccupied with his studies and she 
tried hard to be understanding about that. But she did have her needs, for 
sex and for tenderness. Some nights, even lying her with him beside her, she 
felt so lonely she could cry out. 

"Bill, please," Jean said in a strained voice. 

"What?" 

"You know." 

He sighed. She waited, breathlessly; then he turned over and put his arms 
around her. "All right ..." he said simply, and there was a catch in his 
voice Jean recognized. She felt a sudden fluttering in her loins, and 
although his voice had hardly been tender, she was in her present burning 
need more than willing to make do. She waited, feeling him scramble out of 
his pajamas, pushing the pants hurriedly down and struggling with the top. 
Then she blinked as he reached over to the nightstand and turned the lamp 
back on. When he looked back at her there was a steely look in his eyes 
she'd never seen before. And for a reason she couldn't quite comprehend he'd 
replaced his glasses. Then slowly he drew the sheet off her body, pulling it 
to the side so he remained covered. Smiling somewhat nervously, Jean leaned 
toward him. 

"Lie back," he said, pushing her shoulder. "I want to look at you." 

Jean reclined, stunned by his tone, a slight chill coming over her as she 
felt his eyes burning into her naked flesh. Secretly she was proud of her 
body, and she had loved the way Bill used to watch her undress before him. 
But something was different now. There was an unfamiliar coolness to his 
stare that was almost frightening. He was looking' at her as though to 
inspect her, as though she was a piece of meat, and she couldn't understand 
what was wrong between them. She couldn't seem to please him any more. It 
was as if the more she tried, the more contemptuous he became. 

"Go on. Do as I say. Lie back and . . . spread out." 

Nervously Jean complied, stretching her arms out and upward to arch the 
trembling swells of her breasts, parting her thighs to reveal to her 
husband's learing gaze the soft hair-lined lips of her cunt nestled secretly 
between them. There was something that seemed almost perverse about the 
inspection he was subjecting her too, and she was trembling slightly at the 
way his eyes roved over the naked curves of her body. But even her 
apprehension did nothing to temper the building excitement raging through 
her long-denied loins, and if this was what Bill needed to get excited, she 
was still willing to submit to the humiliation if in the end it would earn 
her the affection and sex she so desperately needed. 

Then he let the sheet fall away from his muscular though slender torso, and 
as she waited in open surrender before him, he leaned slowly over her. With 
a low moan Jean tilted her head upward, arching her back from the bed to 
snuggle the silken curves of her voluptuous body closer to his male 
nakedness, quivering her round breasts hard against his chest as the chills 
of excitement coursed up and down her spine. As her husband's lips pressed 
against her open mouth she could feel her heart pounding wildly in her 
breast, a crazy dizziness spinning through her head as the almost unfamiliar 
taste of his mouth filled hers and she thrust her tongue lewdly up between 
his lips. 

Oh God, she thought. If only everything could be all right between them 
again. And now the moment seemed there, almost ready to be captured. She 
could just about feel the resurgence of that secret warmth that had once 
existed between them and she threw herself body and soul into the kiss, 
feeling as though all her being were flowing into him with the sweet saliva 
of her mouth, struggling to hold onto the magic, to retrieve it from the 
past. 

Her arms moved up around his neck, then he broke from her embrace and pushed 
her back down on the bed. "I want to look at you," he repeated. 

Her breath coming in strained gasps, Jean sank back to the same surrendered, 
spread-eagled position on the bed. She didn't know what was happening. There 
was the strangest look in her husband's eyes now, and she found herself 
wondering if her insistance hadn't prompted the surfacing of some violent or 
even sadistic streak that had lain dormant in him until now, something dark 
and horrible instead of the love she wanted. And she couldn't help but 
recall that their last attempt at lovemaking had been a total failure, and 
that afterward she'd heard him muttering some of the filthiest words in the 
English language as he lay sleeping and dreaming beside her. 

Every detail of his wife's sensuous nakedness was exposed to Bill Thompson's 
leering eyes from the dark long curls over her hair spilling softly over her 
naked shoulders to the matching dark curls of pubic hair and even the 
moistened slit of her little pussy nestled between the softness of her 
parted thighs. It had been a long time. He wasn't sure why, but he just 
hadn't been very interested in sex lately. It was something he couldn't 
really explain to himself, though he'd spent a lot of time analyzing it. And 
it wasn't just sex, it was a general coldness that only increased when she 
demanded the kind of response she was demanding now. But she was still a 
hell of a good looking woman, and now he did want her. He could feel his 
cock twitching toward an erection beneath the sheet and he thought that 
maybe that was just what he needed, a good hot piece of ass to clear his 
head. 

Jean closed her eyes, waiting breathlessly. Conscious of a rustling, she 
opened them again and as her gaze descended she saw that the sheet had 
fallen away from her husband's loins and she was almost surprised to note 
that his cock was swollen to fully pulsing erection. My God, he was excited. 
He did love her! Or at least he did want her now! 

"Ooooooooh darling," she sighed. "You do love me, don't you?" 

Bill's only answer was a grunt. He didn't love her. He didn't love her right 
now, but he did need a woman, any woman, and driven by an almost animal 
instinct he dropped his hands to the ripely upthrust mounds of her breasts, 
grasping them firmly and squeezing the tender flesh between his fingers. He 
could feel her entire body squirming beneath him and now he was getting 
impatient to get into her, to feel the warmth of her tight little cunt 
closing around his hard-jerking penis. 

"Softly, darling. Softly," Jean admonished, but now Bill ignored her, lost 
in his own fever-pitched carnal hunger, his hands continuing their rough 
pawing of the voluptuous naked mounds and the tightly swollen little 
nipples. And her sharp gasps of pain only prompted him to squeeze even 
tighter to the tingling little buds. 

Still waiting spread-eagled on the bed, Jean choked back further protests, 
not daring to say anything that might turn Bill off. Then, hoping to entice 
him to get on with it, she began to slide one hand down between their 
straining bodies and along his thigh to grasp the throbbing shaft of his 
lust-hardened cock. She heard him groan as she squeezed it beneath her 
fingers, feeling it twitch to even greater rigidity. My God, she thought. It 
was big and hard. Tonight it seemed even bigger and harder than she had ever 
remembered it. 

"Yeah," Bill grunted, the obvious tension in his voice convincing the 
aroused brunette that she had him where she wanted him. "That's it," he 
gasped, feeling his wife's fingers grip his blood-engorged penis even 
harder. Now his own hands moved down from her sore and reddened breasts, 
down along the fully rounded contours of her midriff and stomach, down 
between her thighs and into the softly moistened curls of hair. His 
distended middle finger found the pulsing little slit and he inserted it 
between the soft folds of flesh, shoving it forward in spite of the slight 
resistance, feeling Jean's whole body shudder beneath him. 

"Oooooooooh!" she moaned out, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes 
tightly for a moment, then letting her breath escape in a long slow sigh as 
her body again relaxed. "Oh yes, yes. Yes, it feels so good." 

She shifted her hips'slightly, pushing her entire body downward on the bed 
to take his stiff middle finger even higher up into the smooth sensitive 
warmth of her wet inner pussy flesh. She could feel his breathing now hot 
and heavy on her neck and she released his cock from her hand, again 
entwining both her arms up about his neck, pulling him over on top of her so 
she could feel the hardness of his naked cock prodding harshly into her 
naked belly as down between her thighs he began to stroke and tweak at the 
already lewdly swollen bud of her clitoris. 

"Oooooooooh Bill!" she moaned. 

"Ooooooooooh. Oh yes! Yes!" 

Jean's legs flayed out wide apart as she tried to give her husband even 
greater and easier access to her naked loins, and she began to bump her hips 
up and down in a wildly sensuous rhythm in response to his maddening 
manipulations. The smooth flat plane of her belly quivered softly as his 
obscenely searching middle finger exposed the warm wet slit of her pussy, 
and her rib cage rose and fell heavily against his heavy chest, her nipples 
crushed like hard pebbles against him. Then he pressed another finger 
against the first, sliding it up into the warmly resisting opening of Jean's 
lust-seared pussy, worming it further and further upward past the softly 
enclosing ring. 

"Aaaaagghhh!" she cried out aloud, screwing her whole body upward to meet 
the shocking probe of the two-fingered wedge now violating her loins. Tiny 
helpless mewls of pleasure sprang to her lips and her willing body writhed 
in frenzied desperation beneath the obscene assault to which he was 
subjecting her. She was ready. Bill was left with no further doubt about 
that. And he was too. He felt like he could fuck all night. 

In spite of his initial reluctance, Bill couldn't remember when he'd felt so 
potent, when his cock had felt so hard and big and vicious. His original 
resentment at Jean for insisting on sex when he'd displayed no interest had 
channeled itself into lust when his body had begun naturally to respond. And 
now she was really driving him out of his mind. His desire swollen cock 
throbbed painfully and tiny drops of fluid were already gathering at the 
head so that it glistened wetly and moistened Jean's lewdly undulating belly 
as it dragged across her burning flesh. They were both ready. There was no 
use waiting any longer. 

With a deep animal-like groan, the young student slid downward several 
inches on the bed, assuming a kneeling position between his voluptuous 
brunette wife's widely parted thighs. Still not withdrawing his rhythmically 
fucking fingers from her cunt he clasped his bobbing penis in the other hand 
and began to work the foreskin up and down in a lewd and obscene gesture. He 
pushed it all the way back from the head so that it gleamed out like a taut 
drum of flesh poised just at the entrance of Jean's wantonly palpitating 
little pussy opening. 

Advised by the dull ache in his sperm-bloated balls that he'd better get it 
in without another second's delay, Bill lunged forward, drawing his fingers 
back to seize and guide the bloated hardness of his fully erected cock up 
into the pliant, hair-lined orifice. 

"Oh! Oooooh!" Jean cried as she felt Bill's fingers leave her pussy with a 
lurid wet sucking noise. For a moment she held her whole body stiff from the 
stab of frustration; then a deep low sigh escaped her as where the fingers 
had been she felt the sudden promising pressure of Bill's rock-hard penis 
pushing against the entrance of her helplessly aroused vagina. 

"Oh! Uuuggghhh!" she groaned from the sheer raw sensation of the unrelenting 
pressure against her most sensitive vaginal tightness. Then the resistance 
gave way and the entire quivering length of her husband's lust-engorged cock 
went sliding up into the moist furrow of her silken pussy. Bill moaned, 
surging gradually deeper into her, flicking his hips forward as he felt her 
hungrily yearning cunt squeezing tight against his erect cock as it shoved 
the resisting folds of cuntal flesh aside with a long steady thrust until he 
was embedded at last to the hilt up into her clasping vaginal warmth. 

"Christ!" he gasped, his whole male body trembling upon the voluptuously 
naked female body writhing and squirming beneath him. In his aroused animal 
lust she was no longer the nagging wife to whom he'd grown so cold; she was 
just a woman, a piece of living flesh to be mauled and pawed, fucked and 
cast aside. 

"Oh Bill, Bill," Jean purred in his ears, clasping her hands tight around 
his back, pulling, him down hard against her breasts and loins, stretching 
her thighs even wider apart and extending them upward to lock her ankles 
above his jerking buttocks. He grunted above her, finding it difficult to 
move at first because of the extreme tightness of her cunt. Then the 
delicate tissues began to accustom themselves to the invasion of his thick, 
lust-hardened maleness and the silken sheath of her pussy swallowed the 
entire length of the enormous phallus all the way up into her most sensitive 
and secret depths. She didn't think she'd ever taken him in her so deeply 
and the sheer sensation almost caused her to pass out. But she couldn't help 
but dream, far back in the recesses of her mind, that now everything was 
going to be all right, that this magic and shattering contact was the 
welding anew of the bond that once had existed between them. 

"Oh, I love you ... I love you," she groaned out, her mouth panting open, 
her wet pink tongue protruding from between her voluptuous lips as she gave 
herself up entirely to the all-enveloping feeling of wholeness, relishing 
the devastating release promised by the violation of Bill's lustfully 
throbbing cock up into her pulsing loins. It was such a smooth fit up inside 
her belly that she couldn't imagine anything ever being wrong between them 
again. And now he was beginning to really fuck in and out of her, racking 
her quivering body with long even thrusts, burying his thick bulbous 
cock-head deeper and deeper with each savage slap of his loins. She could 
feel it beating all the way up against the sensitivity of her eagerly 
accepting cervix. Already she could feel stirrings of her approaching orgasm 
in her belly and loins, surging in chills over all her nakedly squirming 
flesh. She needed it. She needed it so badly. And now, after she'd gone so 
long without it, she was finally going to obtain her release. She was going 
to cum. She could feel it already, the obliterating promise of a shattering 
orgasm looming just in her path. It was coming, soon now, soon. 

Bill felt his dark-haired young wife begin to buck up against him, heard her 
delirious chanting in his ears. He was deep inside the most intimate 
recesses of her vagina, so deep he felt as if he'd pinned her to the bed in 
this lewdly submissive posture. He was fucking her with sheer animal fury, 
all his anger and hostility welling up in raw, lust-inspired energy, and he 
seized her arms, holding her pinioned beneath him as he launched a 
shattering staccato assault, building and building until he was striking her 
furiously, his hard belly making a loud spanking sound each time he lunged 
down against her. 

He kept it up, his nails digging into her wrists as he stretched her body 
out beneath him, feeling his frenzy build to a peak as the cum came suddenly 
welling up from his balls to pour forth in a great torrent from the jerking 
head of his cock buried far up into her spasming pussy softness, a great 
lava-hot stream that was pumped against her cervix and far up into her 
belly. 

"UUUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHHH!" he groaned into her face as the overwhelming 
sensation of his orgasm traversed the length of his thickly pumping cock to 
send the little chills of delight dancing all over his nakedly fucking body. 
Again he pawed brutally at the softly quivering female flesh beneath him, 
feeling her honey-warm cunt accepting all he had to give her. Then, after a 
final violent outburst of shattering lunges, he slacked off and collapsed 
heavily upon her, releasing one long labored sigh from his throat and 
smelling her musky perfume drift up to his nostrils as he buried his head 
against her neck. 

Beneath him, Jean waited. She lay stunned under his dead weight, gradually 
beginning to realize that he was finished. It was over and he was through, 
though for a few moments longer a part of her mind still refused to accept 
or believe. Then, hearing the beginning of the soft easy snoring, she sank 
back in utter defeat. He was asleep. 

Bill was sated, satisfied, and now he had gone to sleep, his cock deflating 
within her as she languished in the frustration of unfulfillment. "Oh no," 
she whispered to herself. "Oh no!" Tears of bitterness and frustration 
welled in her eyes and spilled over, streaming down her cheeks and shining 
in the soft glow of the bed-side lamp. Then the bitterness became outright 
hostility and by the time she'd rolled him off her she was crying in 
earnest. The lewd wetness of her still warmly seeping cunt allowed the limp 
flesh of his cock to slip easily out of her, leaving her with only a 
vacuum-like feeling up where moments ago it had so violently surged and 
throbbed. Then she sank again onto her back, staring through tear-reddened 
eyes up at the ceiling. What had just happened was even worse than the 
previous weeks of denial. There could have been ways of psychologically 
explaining or even justifying his lack of sexual interest. But tonight he 
had been interested; he'd displayed a lust she'd seldom experienced during 
the whole two years of their marriage. 

But it had been an impersonal, selfish lust. He'd merely used her as a 
receptacle for his cum, and he'd cared not in the least whether she shared 
his satisfaction and release. 

Chapter Two 

Bud Langford mixed the two drinks on the kitchen cabinet and turned back to 
the table where his sister sat shaking with sobs. He let his eyes dwell for 
a minute on Jean's swollen breasts pushing against her tight-fitting blouse, 
dropped them to her shapely thighs revealed by the split in her long loose 
skirt, then turned his gaze abruptly away, stepped forward and set one of 
the whiskies before her. A brother shouldn't be thinking the kind of 
thoughts he sometimes found himself thinking when he looked at Jean, he 
supposed, but he'd needed just that one long good look to satisfy himself 
once and for all that his brother-in-law was an out and out kook. 

Jean accepted the drink gratefully and took an eager sip. She'd just 
finished reliving the entire awful scene that had taken place last night and 
the weeks that had lead up to it. She told it exactly as it had happened, 
and bringing it all back had put her in a state bordering on hysteria. Now 
the alcohol had a slight numbing effect on her and she drank rapidly, though 
it still wasn't quite strong enough to dull the pain that throbbed in her 
head. She was hardly conscious of her older brother's reaction to what she'd 
told him. Perhaps that wasn't even what concerned her. She'd just needed to 
get it out, and Bud was the one person she'd felt she could trust. 

"Well, in my opinion he's a real prick," Bud said after a moment, settling 
back into the chair across from her. 

Jean looked up, her lips turned in a pout, and wiped her eyes with a doubled 
fist. "Don't say that. He's got a lot on his mind. He's working very hard on 
his thesis and he's . . . he's engrossed in his experiments and . . . and 
he's ..." 

"And he's using you and giving you nothing in return." 

"He's not using me, Bud. That's what we agreed on when we decided to get 
married. That I would work until Bill finishes his studies and . . . and 
there's less than a year to go now." 

"Big deal." 

Jean cast her eyes downward. She knew the arrangement she'd just mentioned 
was something Bud had never approved of. He was so independent, and Bill was 
always willing to take help of almost any kind, and from whomever he could 
get it. While Bud had worked nights to get his degree in art history, which 
he now taught at City College, Bill had primarily made his way on loans and 
grants and, now, on Jean's salary at the registrar's office. It was almost 
frightening for her to think of the debts that would have to be paid off 
once his studies were completed and the loans he'd been taking out over the 
last six or seven years started coming due. Though they'd never talked about 
it she realized that even after he did have the kind of high-paying position 
he would be able to get on the basis of his degree, she would probably still 
have to keep her job for some time. 

"So what are you going to do?" Bud asked to interrupt her thoughts. 

"Do?" She looked up as though utterly confused by the question. 

"Yes, do." 

"I hadn't thought of doing anything. I just wanted to get it off my chest. 
But. . . " "But what?" Bud asked. 

"Maybe there is something I should do. Maybe it's something about. . . about 
me that's causing the trouble." 

"Don't be silly. That's nonsense." He paused, looking straight into Jean's 
big black eyes glossed with tears. He licked his lips slowly. "But then not 
completely." 

It was as if something had caught in her throat and for a moment Jean 
couldn't even speak. When the words did finally come out her voice was 
strained, quivering and almost faltering. "W-what do you mean?" 

"The bastard resents you, probably, because he's dependent on you. It's sort 
of . . . making yourself too available. Here you go along working your butt 
off for him all day, cooking for him when you come home in the evening, then 
just waiting for him. You're there like a puppy, ready to fulfill his every 
need. You're negating yourself and therefore your own worth. You feel it 
and, eventually, he begins to feel it. And, of course, the whole syndrome is 
complicated by the fact that it helps him conceal his own feelings of guilt 
from himself." 

"But what can I do?" 

"Get away from him for a while. Give him a chance to miss you." 

"But if ... if I get away from him now, while we're having all this trouble, 
he might find himself glad to have me gone. Then ..." 

"Then you would discover that you were wasting your time in the first place. 
If that's the case, and I'm afraid it won't be, then you really did have 
nothing at all to lose. Listen. I've got an idea." 

"What?" said Jean, looking at her tall, ruggishly handsome brother 
suspiciously. 

"Ever hear of a man named Harry Smith?" 

"Harry Smith?" In spite of everything, or perhaps because of it, Jean 
giggled, as if the giggle were an escape mechanism from her general somber 
mood. "There must be thousands of Harry Smiths in the world, but I haven't 
heard of any of them." 

"Well, this one is the important one. He's into construction, and he's very 
rich, somewhat eccentric, and one of the most important art collectors in 
the country. I met him because he's interested in the work of one of my 
students, one of those rare finds an art teacher waits his whole life for. 
He's got a ranch up near Shasta and he wanted to have me and Lyda up there 
with him and his wife for Thanksgiving." "Lyda?" 

Bud grinned. "That's right. I guess you haven't met Lyda. She's blonde, a 
freshman who thinks she's going to get her degree in political science. My 
newest live-in housekeeper." 

Jean blushed, knowing all too well what her brother really meant by that. 

"Anyway, I'd accepted, but Lyda was getting into a feud with her parents 
down in Southern California about not planning to be home for the holidays. 
So I told her to forget it. I was going to call Smith and tell him we had to 
cancel out, but now you can go in her place." 

Jean shook her head. For a reason she couldn't grasp herself, her heart was 
pounding almost furiously. She'd just had the craziest thought: That Bud 
meant to present her as his "live-in housekeeper", as he called it. But, of 
course, he hadn't meant that at all. He just meant that it would be 
naturally awkward for him to visit a couple without a companion of his own. 
She didn't know why that other idea had ever popped into her mind. 

"Well, whatta you say?" 

"No. Thanks, Bud. Really. But I just couldn't." 

"Why not?" 

"I just don't want to go away for the holidays. I was looking forward to 
them as a chance ... to spend some time with Bill." Hearing herself say 
that, after the story she'd just told her brother, she realized how hopeless 
her dream was. She'd actually been looking forward to the holidays in the 
hope that if she had some free time, she could really devote herself to the 
task of straightening out things between her and her husband. "Well," she 
added after a moment. "I have to try. I do have to try." 

"You're trying the wrong way." 

Stubbornly Jean set her chin. "I'm not leaving him yet. Not even for a few 
days." 

Bill Thompson looked up with unconcealed irritation, marking the place where 
he'd left off in the book he'd been reading as he glared at his dark-haired 
wife standing in the door of his study. 

"What is it?" he said after a moment. 

Jean bit her lip. Her eyes had been cast down; now she lifted them slowly, 
almost fearfully. "I have to talk to you." 

"Jean, we'll talk later. I'm working." 

"You're not working. You're studying. I'm the one who's been working all 
day." She bit her lip again, regretting immediately that she'd said that. 
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way." 

Bill pitched the text book into the air. It landed with a bang on the floor. 
He sat, staring down at it, shaking his head. It looked as if he were almost 
laughing. 

"It's about last night," she said. "I've got to talk to you." 

"Last night? Last night I gave you what you've been begging the last three 
weeks for. Don't you remember?" 

Jean hesitated, then went on with determination. "You didn't give me what 
I've been begging for. You fucked me like I was a dishrag." She paused, 
shocked at hearing herself say that word, a word she'd never used except 
occasionally under her breath in absolute privacy. But how else could what 
Bill had done to her last night be termed? "But you didn't give me what I 
wanted, which is love and . . . and satisfaction. I didn't have an orgasm." 

"Is it my fault if you can't cum? Go to hell." 

"But you didn't even care. " "What the hell do you want me to do, 
apologize?" 

"I don't think ... I don't think you love me anymore," Jean stammered. 

Bill stared at her in silence for a moment, then leaned over and retrieved 
the book from the floor. "You're putting too much pressure on me. You're on 
me all the time. I can't even think. And I'll guarantee you if you don't lay 
off I'm going to blow up." 

"I'm the one who's going to blow up," Jean said almost calmly. She turned 
and stepped out of the room, closing the door gently behind herself. She 
paused for a moment, then walked down the hall and picked up the telephone. 
She dialed her brother's number. 

"Hello," a lusty female voice answered after the second ring. 

"I'd like to speak to Bud, please," Jean said, then quickly added: "I'm his 
sister." 

"Oh. Yes. Just a minute." 

"Hello, kid," Bud said after he got to the phone. "What's up now?" 

"Can I change my mind. You're right. I do have to get away from him for a 
while." 

"Then it's all set. I'll pick you up at the registar's office at noon 
Wednesday." 

Chapter Three 

On the drive up through north-central California, Jean couldn't help but 
wonder if she'd made the right choice by accepting her brother's invitation. 
She'd done it on an impulse and during the several days that followed she'd 
had second thoughts. But Bud absolutely refused to consider letting her 
change her mind. As for Bill, he'd thrown a tantrum when she'd first told 
him, but she dared not use this as an excuse to start getting her hopes up 
about any change in his attitude. His anger seemed to have been on general 
principle, and, worse, after he got accustomed to the idea of her trip he'd 
seemed actually to look forward to seeing her go. And now, as they wound 
through the redwood forests, Jean had the feeling that the die had been 
cast, and that she had lost. 

The Smith place proved to be a sprawling ranch style house shaded by the 
kind of towering redwoods that are usually seen only on park land that has 
never been timbered, and flanked by a long kidney-shaped pool. Set back 
behind it was a smaller house, like a log cabin, which appeared to be some 
kind servants' quarters, and beyond that a stable. Parked before the garage 
was a Cadillac, a Jeep and a small sports-car. 

Bud pulled to a stop behind the jeep and the front door of the house opened. 
A tall woman of about forty emerged, elegant looking even in the tight 
shorts and halter she wore, whose very suntan seemed a refelction of wealth 
and luxurious living. 

"I'm Dolores Dmith. Harry took one of the horses out but he should be back 
soon. You all come on in and we'll have some refreshments and start getting 
acquainted." 

Bud took a good hard look at Harry Smith's wife, and she took a good look 
back at him. She was even better than he would have expected. If he wasn't 
completely mistaken about what Smith had had in the back of his mind when 
he'd first invited him and Lyda to come up for the holidays, then this could 
prove to be a very interesting weekend indeed. 

"So," the slender woman said as Bud and Jean reached the porch. "You're Bud 
and you must be Lyda? Or are you?" she added, looking at Jean with a slight 
frown. 

"Lyda couldn't make it," Bud said. "This is ... " "Have I committed a 
faux-pas?" the woman asked. 

"No. It's all right. This is my sister Jean." 

"Hello, Jean," said Dolores Smith, taking her hand. "I suppose this entails 
another bedroom. I'll have Sylvia get that ready for you, Bud. In the 
meantime 111 show you to yours, Jean." 

Bud chose to take his drink on the terrace beside the pool while Dolores 
Smith escorted his sister inside. He settled into a reclining chair, leaned 
back and had almost closed his eyes when the door opened and a tiny, 
doll-like girl with red hair and one of the most fantastic sets of breasts 
he'd ever seen emerged with a tray of drinks. Bud sat up straight, openly 
staring before he caught himself and looked away. 

"Hello. I'm Sylvia," the girl said. As she bent over to place the tray of 
drinks down on the low table her breasts almost fell out of the low-necked 
sleeveless blouse she wore. 

"I'm . . . uh . . . Bud," Bud managed. "I thought Harry said your girl was 
blonde?" 

"She couldn't make it. That's my sister." 

Sylvia had straightened up slowly and now she looked at him with a 
mysterious smile. "I was beginning to wonder. Dolores told me to fix a 
separate room." 

"Yes. That's because she's ... uh ... my sister." Bud hurriedly sipped his 
drink. 

"I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting holiday. Anyway, if you 
get any free time, drop around. I live out back, in the cabin." She turned 
her head sharply. "There comes Harry." 

Looking around, Bud saw the man on horseback approaching. Then he turned 
back to the tiny, big-breasted redhead. "What did you mean by that?" 

"Use your imagination." She smiled, her blue eyes descending for a moment 
toward the crotch of his trousers, slightly tented by his stirring cock. 
"I've got to get your bedroom ready. Bye now." 

Jean smiled. She felt the way she looked, or must have looked with such a 
smile silly, child-like. She wiped it away. That, she felt, must have looked 
like the wiping of a smile off a caricature drawn in chalk on a blackboard. 
Then she smiled again, the same way. It seemed funny the way everything was 
so blurred, but then she supposed she had had quite a lot to drink. The 
dinner table had been cleared away and Jean could feel that wonderful glow 
that the expertly prepared foods and vintage wines had created in her 
system. 

At this moment all seemed truly well with the world. Dolores Smith was the 
sweetest woman she had ever met, she'd decided, and her husband Harry was a 
real dream. He was a real dream. Somehow it seemed he was exactly everything 
that his name did not connote. At about fifty he was tall and slim with a 
mature handsome face and distinguished graying temples. His manners were 
impeccable and charm seemed second nature to him. He was the kind of man who 
would look rich, or aristocratic, even if he didn't have a dime to his name. 
And she felt that this dream of a man had taken immediately to her, though 
she couldn't imagine why he would ever be interested in someone like herself 
when he had a wife like Dolores - though of course his interest wasn't that 
kind of interest at all. 

Jean cradled the after-dinner liqueur in her hands, twenty-five year old 
cognac, Harry had explained, with a warm aftertaste and an effect on her 
head that the voluptuous brunette found at once soothing and stimulating. 
Dipping her tongue into the glass became a lovely game that she played with 
herself while Harry and Bud talked art and Dolores merely listened and 
looked lovely. Then, at Dolores's suggestion, they got up from the dining 
table and moved into the adjoining, plushly furnished living room. Dolores 
sat down with Bud on the luxurious velvet sofa and Jean settled herself on 
what she would later recognize as a loveseat. Harry, wearing an open shirt 
and an ascot, remained standing for the moment. Occupying herself with 
studying the man's poise, Jean thought of what a nice father image he was. 
Then for some reason she thought of her husband Bill, of the terrible 
argument that had prompted her to decide to come up here with her brother, 
then of the awful night that had been the cause of that argument. Then she 
decided to put the whole affair out of her mind, and was surprised how easy, 
with the help of the cognac, that proved to be. 

Then she realized that she had been staring at Harry Smith, realized that he 
had been staring back at her. Now she looked quickly away and when she 
looked back he was walking toward her. He was still looking at her, and 
something in his eyes caused the funniest feeling to run up and down her 
spine. It must be nerves, she told herself, but it was a trifle unsettling. 

"Feeling all right?" he asked, sitting down next to her. It was at that 
moment she realized she'd chosen the loveseat. Something about it made her 
almost giggle aloud. "What's the matter?" Harry asked, rolling his brandy 
glass in his hand before taking a deep drink from it. 

"Nothing. I just thought of something funny." 

"Like what?" 

"Like ... oh nothing, Mr. Smith." 

"Harry," he said, a gentle smile playing on his lips. He drank again. 
"Aaaahhh . . . now that's good. Can I get you another?" 

"Oh, I'd love another," Jean heard herself saying and wondered why she'd 
said it, since she'd mentally resolved that the lone after-dinner drink 
would be her last. She felt woozy already and she wondered how that drink 
would affect her on top of the wine and the pre-dinner cocktails she'd 
imbibed. But when Harry returned with her filled glass and resumed his place 
beside her, she was surprised to find that the added sips of alcohol seemed 
to make her more alert, at least for the moment. She tried to launch into a 
conversation about art with the well-known collector, though she really 
didn't know that much about the subject. And though she thought she must be 
an absolute bore, Harry was extremely patient and seemingly actually 
interested in what she had to say. 

Continuing to sip the cognac much faster than she should have, Jean found 
herself taking the liberty of slipping off her high-heel shoes and curling 
her stockinged legs up on the couch seat, tucking them beneath her so that 
her softly clinging dinner dress fell over them. The feel of them beneath 
her soft, panty-covered buttocks gave her a curious sense of well-being, and 
she found herself experimenting with the secret sensations she could derive 
from the slightest flexing of her thigh muscles. At first she felt a little 
funny about doing it but then, the alcohol suddenly making her dizzy again, 
she decided there was nothing wrong with it. No one else could tell that she 
was doing it. And it was fun. 

Jean noticed that Bud and Dolores Smith were rising and going out of the 
room, to the terrace she supposed. But she quickly forgot about them as 
Harry launched into an anecdote about a group of impressionist painters who 
lived in Paris around the turn of the century, a couple of whom even she had 
heard of. She listened intently, while continuing to set off the delicious 
little sensations in her loins by tensing and untensing her leg muscles 
agains the cushioning mounds of her buttocks, even going so far as to let 
the heel of her bare, tucked-under foot sink up between the twin mounds of 
silk-covered flesh. She was doing it almost unconsciously, and every now and 
then she would rock forward a bit to better hear some detail of Harry 
Smith's story, causing an even greater pressure and more titillating pulsing 
far up in her tingling pussy. 

Once or twice she tried to tell herself how sorry she was to be away from 
Bill, but she knew she wasn't really sorry. Right now she felt wonderful. 
She didn't even think she would want to have her husband around, or to be 
back home with him, though she knew she would probably feel differently when 
bedtime came and she found herself faced with sleeping alone. 

"More?" Harry was leaning toward her. She hadn't even noticed that he was 
standing up. His handsome, smooth-shaven face seemed very close to hers, and 
she could smell the cologne he was wearing. She nodded in the affirmative 
and tried to focus her eyes on him, to see the expression on his face, and 
then suddenly everything seemed to go crazy. He was kissing her, his hands 
gripping her soft shoulder, his lips and tongue forcing her mouth wide open, 
pushing her head backwards with the grinding of his mouth against hers, 
setting her entire body to quaking with surprise and an unbelievable strong 
sensation of desire. It was so acute that it was almost painful. Her loins 
seemed to be on fire. Her mouth was the receptacle for his tongue, imparting 
the flames of desire rolling over her shuddering flesh. Her breasts were 
being fondled, softly, lovingly, and were aching for more and more of it. 
Her entire body seemed to be crying out. Yes, she thought, yes, this is what 
I need. Yes. 

She found herself unfolding from her sitting position. She wanted her legs 
open, willingly spread and held high. There was a deep soft spot up between 
them that was hungry for the fingers she felt creeping along her thigh. His 
mouth was still on hers and soft cries stuck in her throat, becoming tiny 
grunts of bewilderment as the combined effects of frustration and heady 
liquors coursed heavily through her veins. And she knew it, she thought 
then. Something was going to happen. It had to happen. She wanted him so 
badly and it seemed as if always, always she had. 

"Jean," he said. "Jean. You're a good kid, and you want it. And most of all, 
you need it." His fingers were almost there now, far up under her short 
dinner dress. They touched softly at the top of her stockings where her 
flesh was bare and soft and the panties seemed to be waiting for the flick 
of his long manicured middle finger against the elastic crotchband. Her 
rumpled dress was up around her hip and he was kneeling before her now on 
the rug and she was reclining alowly backward on the loveseat. 

"Now, just lie back," he said. "Let me do everything." 

Yes, Jean almost said, relaxing dreamily for a moment before she suddenly 
stiffened and opened her eyes. "No! Oh God, no, what am I thinking about?" 
As Harry Smith drew back in surprise, Jean scrambled awkwardly to a sitting 
postion, then stood up. She waited, frozen almost in fright before him for a 
moment. "Oh no ... " she gasped. "I'm sorry. I'm . . . I'm sorry. I don't 
know what I was thinking about. I must have had too much to drink." 

Jean waited but a moment longer, then turned and fled from the room and out 
into the hall. Blindly she stumbled down it, wondering vaguely what had 
become of Bud and Dolores but knowing that wherever they had gone now, she 
didn't want to face them. She didn't want to face anybody now. She had 
almost really ruined everything. She'd never been unfaithful to Bill and she 
knew that if she'd let Harry Smith's probing fingers get any closer to her 
warmly burning vagina, she would have been unable to stop him from doing 
whatever he wanted to her. And then, with that on her conscience, what hope 
would she ever have had of patching things up with Bill? 

Then, finding herself at the door of the bedroom where she was to sleep, 
Jean stopped. She paused for a moment, leaning against it, before she opened 
it and stepped inside. She was through for the night. She didn't dare go out 
until she'd slept off the state of drunkeness that had almost caused her to 
make a mistake she would surely have regretted for the rest of her life. 

Chapter Four 

"I've got an errand to run," said Dolores Smith, touching Bud on the arm. 
"I'll rejoin you inside in the den in just a few minutes. Fix yourself 
another drink and put on some music if you like. Something soft and . . . 
romantic." 

Bud looked at the woman's flashing green eyes, at her sculptured face framed 
in long sandy hair, set off by the necklace of sparkling diamonds that made 
a little glimmering half-circle below it. "All right," he said, nodding 
faintly. 

She smiled and turned and walked slowly away, her buttocks flexing 
sensuously against the loosely falling material of her long gown. Well, it 
looked like Bud had hit the nail on the head! There'd been something in 
Harry Smith's eyes that afternoon at the art building when Lyda had dropped 
around. Then, just after she left, he'd extended the invitation for Bud and 
his girlfriend to spend the Thanksgiving weekend with him and his wife. Bud 
had had the feeling, and everything was pointing toward the fact that his 
feeling was right. 

The Smiths had naturally separated since his arrival with Jean. Dolores had 
latched onto him and he had little doubt as to what Harry had in mind for 
his sexy sister. And he still didn't feel quite right about his own 
interference. Because bringing her up here and subjecting her to the 
temptation to be unfaithful to that prick of a husband, allowing her to be 
tanked up on alcohol the way Harry had been doing when they'd left the 
living room, then leaving her conveniently alone with him - it was outright 
interference in her private, married life. But he would have felt even worse 
about doing nothing at all. And besides helping his sister, it looked as if 
he was going to have a very good time himself! 

Bud shrugged, turned away from the pool and walked through the door into the 
den. He poured a glass of whiskey at the bar, went over and threw the reject 
button on the record turntable. The slow, soft, romantic record Dolores had 
requested had been there, waiting for him. 

"Notice anything different?" 

Hearing the woman's lusty, bedroom voice behind him, Bud slowly turned. Did 
he notice anything different? She'd changed into a soft silken peignoir, 
hanging open in a long split from the top of one of her thighs, cut low to 
almost completely reveal her breasts standing up firm and proud in spite of 
her age. She seemed to come floating toward him in the soft lighting. That, 
he thought, had also been waiting, prepared. Then she took the drink from 
his hand, took a short sip of it, her eyes all the while mysteriously 
regarding his face. She set the glass down on the table beside the 
turntable, settled warmly into his arms and began to dance him across the 
floor. Then, reaching the large studio couch, she drew him down on it beside 
her. The posture she assumed caused the hem of her gown to work far up her 
slender, well-formed thighs. She smiled, looking directly down at the crotch 
of his trousers, now swelled up from the almost full erection of his pulsing 
cock. "I really like you, Bud," she said in the same lusty voice. 

"I knew I was going to like you the minute I saw you." 

"Thanks," he said, feeling strangely off-balance, though nothing of what was 
happening was really that unexpected. "I like you too." 

"I'm glad," she said. Her smile broadened slightly, and with just the most 
subtle shift of her position she let the split of the gown widen until he 
could see the soft nakedness of her lightly covered pubic mound nestled 
between her almost completely exposed thighs. 

"I guess ..." Bud began. 

"You guess what?" she asked, reaching up to place the palm of her hand on 
his cheek. 

"I guess I know where your husband is." 

She smiled again. "You know where he wants to be, anyway. Do you have any 
objections?" 

Bud paused just a moment, as a matter of punctuation, before he shook his 
head. Then again his eyes descended toward the shocking exposure of her cunt 
in the split of her gown, and as he watched she drew her thighs slowly 
apart, revealing to his hungry eyes the little pink hair-lined slit where he 
could just glimpse the few tiny drops of moisture glistening among the 
curling blonde strands. Then she reached up to loosen the front of her robe, 
pulling the lacy material apart to reveal the large full mounds of her 
breasts, ripe and full like big melons with ruby red nipples that seemed to 
be staring back at him. 

"You're beautiful," he murmured, watching her push the robe from her 
shoulders to let it fall completely away. 

"Do you think I'm too old?" she asked, almost teasingly, he thought. 

"No." 

"Neither are you," she replied, ruffling her fingers through his hair and 
around to the back of his neck, causing goosebumps to form on his skin. 
"You're just a boy, almost. Or you seem like one to me. How old are you?" 

"Sixty-seven," said Bud. Then he leaned over to kiss her lightly on the 
lips, hoping to silence her chatter. But at the contact with her warm, 
willing mouth, he couldn't pull away. Feeling her hungry response, he leaned 
in again, pressing his lips tightly against hers as the older but still 
sensuous woman curled her arms around him and pulled him down upon her. As 
she reclined on her back on the couch, one of his trousered legs fell 
lightly between her nakedly open thighs. He lay there briefly, as though 
glued to her, feeling her begin to move her softly supple thighs up against 
the already full throbbing hardness of his cock. It was straining almost 
painfully against his trousers and he could feel the wetness from the 
seminal fluid seeping out onto the smooth rubbery tip. 

Dolores continued to massage his penis with her trembling thighs and 
softly-haired pussy mound until he thought he would literally explode. The 
slightest pressure seemed as if it would be enough to make him cum, and in 
spite of the heavy weight of sperm building up steadily in his testicles he 
didn't want that. He was determined not only to fuck Dolores Smith, but to 
fuck her well, and he was eager to get inside her as soon as possible. 

Bud thrust his tongue deep into her warmly sucking mouth, feeling her taking 
tiny nibbles on it with her teeth. Then he raised his head up, staring in 
almost leering triumph at the woman spread out beneath him on the couch. 

"Take off your clothes," she purred through gritted teeth. 

He lay still for a moment on the couch, his hands moving up to cup her naked 
breasts. Then he sat up and began to unbutton his shirt. 

"Are you going to fuck me good?" she asked as he slithered out of his 
trousers and let them fall at a heap on the floor beside the couch. He stood 
and turned to stare down at her with lust-glazed eyes. His big, blood-filled 
cock stood out in hard naked erection in front of him, bobbing up and down 
slightly with his breathing. He still hadn't answered her question. The 
doing would be the answering, and it seemed she sensed this because suddenly 
her face assumed an expression even more desperate and her eyes focused 
eagerly on the throbbing rock-hard pole of his cock, glossing as if she were 
mesmerized by its size and stiffness. "Oh God," she moaned. "What are you 
waiting for. Come on. Come to me." 

He lay back down beside her, pulling her into the circle of his bare arms, 
pressing his young body tightly against the softness of her breasts, the 
warmth of her belly, the silken skin of her naked thighs. He began to move 
his hands over her flesh, sliding them down her back to cup the creamy 
smoothness of her buttocks, feeling her growing even warmer against him as 
she locked her lips once more to her mouth and searched with her hand to 
find and clasp the straining shaft of the lust-inflamed hardness of his 
cock. She began to work her hand up and down, the friction along the hard 
rod of flesh almost driving him out of his mind. She crushed the full length 
of her naked body up against him and ground her straining pelvis tightly 
into his desire tormented loins, pulling at him and rocking him against her 
until at last he rolled willingly over on top of her, his muscular buttocks 
and pelvis settling down between her wide-splayed thighs. 

Harry Smith lifted the small gold-framed mirror from its place on the living 
room wall. Before him was a glass window, actually a whorehouse two-way 
mirror looking in on the den where the two naked bodies writhed on the 
couch. For that matter, the mirror he'd just removed was also of the same 
nature. Funny he thought: never in all the times he'd removed one or the 
other of the mirrors to eavesdrop on what was going on in the other room had 
he ever found himself looking into the face of another voyeur. 

He chuckled softly to himself and focused his attention on the couch. It was 
a poor second to throwing a good fuck to Bud Langford's sexy sister, but it 
was better than nothing. Christ, he thought. If he'd been interested in 
getting that young blonde Bud was living with, that was nothing compared to 
the joy he would derive from ramming his oversized cock into that voluptuous 
brunette's tight little cunt. And he'd almost been there, he'd almost 
touched her sweet little pussy and he knew that if he had he would have been 
able to push her past the point of no return. 

"Well," he said to himself, "Maybe I'll have better luck tomorrow." And 
anyway, he could always have a piece of his wife after she was finished with 
Bud. Resigned to the fate of the gods who'd declared he wouldn't make it 
With Jean Thompson tonight, he returned his attention to the slender forty 
year old he'd selected to be his helpmate for life. It always excited him to 
watch his wife fucking someone else, and he reached into the space between 
the two walls to flick on the microphones that would transmit to him all the 
sounds of the spectacle before him. 

Now Dolores was crushing Bud down tightly upon her nakedly writhing body, 
her hands running eagerly over his muscular flesh. "God, you feel good," she 
whispered, arching her hips upward to push against the hardness of his 
lustfully reposing member where it prodded against her naked belly. He moved 
his hands up underneath her, raising her body up a bit, feeling her begin to 
undulate against him in a slow sensuous rhythm. He was conscious of the 
tenseness inside her that indicated to him that she was actually a very 
strong woman beneath her soft exterior, and the thought of how that strength 
would be manifest in a few moments when they began really fucking made his 
cock jerk impatiently against her flesh. 

"Mmmmmmmm ..." she sighed in his ear as he began moving slowly up and down, 
sliding the big wet tip of his cock across the thin hair-lined lips of the 
woman's hotly quivering pussy, insinuating the bulging hardness up and down 
the length of the widespread split between her thighs. He could feel it grow 
wetter with each passing moment, and Dolores seemed to be slowly spreading 
her legs even wider out to the sides as though in consenting invitation to 
the obscene entry he threatened at any moment to make. 

"Don't wait," she suddenly moaned, bucking her loins up even harder against 
him. "Don't wait any more, lover. Fuck me! FUCK ME NOW!" 

Bud couldn't have held back if he wanted to. He flicked his hips forward as 
she simultaneously lifted her naked body to meet him. The bloated tip of his 
penis found again the desire-moistened lips of her cunt, and as he groaned 
and thrust forward, the palpitating shaft surged in relentless fury straight 
up into the warmth and , softness of her trembling inner pussy walls. 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!" she moaned i beneath him as her cuntal flesh slipped wetly 
over the sensitive naked pole of his penis. The thick blood-filled head had 
ruthlessly parted the silken hair of her pussy and now the length of his 
lust-swollen penis moved with pulsating swiftness up and up into her 
narrowly channeled vagina. It raced through the tightly clinging flesh, 
filling the depths of her trembling belly, filling her willing cunt until it 
smacked against the smooth cushiony tip of her cervix to prompt a soft wail 
of joy from Dolores's lips. She moaned, flailing her blonde head from side 
to side, her fingers dancing madly over Bud's laboring back as he flexed 
himself up in her most private inner cuntal warmth. 

Pinned beneath him on the couch, Dolores had no escape. If she moved even 
the tiniest bit it prompted another of the almost unbearable flexes of his 
engorged organ, and realizing that at least until she accustomed herself he 
was almost too big for her, Bud felt a surge of triumph and power. She had 
asked him if he was going to fuck her good. And already, though he'd hardly 
begun, he sensed that she knew the answer. To drive it home, he ground his 
pelvis down into the moist nakedness of her flesh, surging even deeper 
inside her, feeling her stiffen for a moment beneath him before she heaved 
out a strained sigh and let her pussy flower open still farther as he began 
a rhythmic in and out fucking motion. 

Already Bud could feel his rigid aching cock growing and expanding even more 
up inside the older woman's pulsing cunt. He felt almost as if he were going 
to really rip her apart and with each slap of his testicles down between her 
squirming ass-cheeks he felt an exquisite tenseness and excitement building 
beneath him, he increased his strokes, drawing his cock almost all the way 
out and ramming it even more swiftly back in, wracking her with his lunging 
fury. 

Dolores lifted her thighs, locking them above Bud's laboring buttocks, 
gurgling unrecognizable statements from her throat as if she were a 
blabbering idiot or had lost her mind. She had no control any more. He knew 
she was near the end and he continued to fuck in and out of her with all the 
strength he could muster, exerting every ounce of control he possessed to 
keep himself from shooting off before she was really ready to climax with 
him. 

"Oooh. Oh yes! Harder, harder," the aroused woman chanted in his ears, her 
heels drumming on his naked buttocks. Then she stiffened again, her body 
arching against him, seeming to uncoil like a striking snake, her legs 
scissoring open and closed, her pubis pounding against his in a slapping 
frenzy as she offered the full flat opening of her up-raised vaginal passage 
to the lewd assault she had prompted him to launch. 

Then, with a cock-stirring whine, she let herself go completely. "I'M 
CUMMMMMMM-IIINNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG!!!" she wailed, beginning an uninhibited 
dance of ecstasy, straining and squirming in furious abandon as the 
tumultuous waves of climax rolled over her. 

Screwing herself up in an almost impossible position, she accepted the flood 
of Bud's sperm exploding into her spasming pussy and all the way up to her 
frantically climaxing belly as he felt the aching throb of his balls easing 
as the overwhelming flood of sensation gripped him and sent him thudding 
into her with an even harder crashing of their naked bodies. He rammed into 
her with a final series of rapid staccato thrusts, wracking her body as she 
moaned and wailed and finally collapsed in temporary exhaustion beneath him, 
continuing to pump drop after drop of his hot searing cum far up into the 
quivering tightness of her cunt. 

Then at last he slacked off, sagging down heavily upon her. "God, that was 
good," he gasped. 

"Well, don't go to sleep, young man," Dolores said with a strained voice. 
"You're not through yet, I hope." 

Bud frowned, then grinned. "Not if you aren't. Give me about a minute to get 
hard again. But the second one might take all night." 

Fuck this shit, thought Harry Smith. Usually after one romp Dolores was 
ready to come home to daddy, but it looked like tonight was going to be 
different. Sylvia was in luck, it seemed. 

Chapter Five 

Jean woke with a start. Last night flooded into her memory like a 
half-remembered dream, and as she lay naked beneath the sheets on the 
luxurious bed in the luxurious bedroom Dolores Smith had put her in, she 
could hardly believe that what she remembered was really what had happened. 
But deep down inside she knew it was true. Harry Smith had tried to seduce 
her. Or at least he had made a pass at her. And during those few minutes 
before she'd come to her senses it must have seemed to him that she almost 
welcomed him in his obscene advance. 

Stunned, she let herself remember, and as it all came back to her, she felt 
a resurgence of those same feelings she'd experienced last night, a blinding 
desire that filled the entire area of her loins, now in her hungover state a 
dull gnawing need that almost drove her out of her mind. 

Then she turned her face to the pillow, sobbing with shame for what she felt 
and what last night she'd almost allowed to happen. Then she got up and 
showered, feeling a slight trembling in her legs and soft stomach as she 
stood beneath the jets of water, almost unable to resist caressing and 
stroking over her naked genitals as she scrubbed herself with the washcloth 
and soap. My God, she thought, how was she going to face Harry Smith after 
what had happened, not to mention his wife? And not to mention her brother? 
She couldn't imagine what Bud might do if he knew about the older man's 
depraved advance, and it took her only a moment to rule out the possibility 
that she should tell her brother what had happened. And then there was Bill. 
My God, she'd come so close, come so close to losing him forever. 

But gradually, comforted by the pleasantness of the warm shower, Jean began 
to pull herself together. After all, she rationalized, nothing had really 
happened. She had come to her senses in time. It was just one of those 
little foul-ups that occur when someone has had too mucli to drink. 

And certainly she'd had too much, as Harry Smith himself must have had far 
too much as well. Perhaps he wouldn't even remember it, she told herself as 
she stepped from the shower and started to dry herself off. By the time she 
was dressed, she'd decided to forget the whole matter, or at least to 
pretend that it hadn't happened. It was Thanksgiving. She would have a good 
Thanksgiving dinner with her brother and the Smiths, and she would not 
drink. And one way of looking at it, she really did have very much to be 
thankful for today. Compared to what might have happened if she'd let Mr. 
Smith go just a little farther, what had occurred seemed almost 
inconsequential. 

Bud Langford swallowed the last bite of pumpkin pie and leaned back from the 
table. It had been a hell of a good meal, he thought. In fact, it had been a 
hell of a good day all around from his own point of view, he thought. He'd 
slept late in the morning, though not as late as his sister. He'd had a good 
swim after lunch then a good long talk about art with Harry Smith, a talk in 
which his host was completely casual, making absolutely no reference at all 
to what had happened the previous evening. At a little after five, Dolores 
had lured him into her bedroom for a session almost as frenzied as last 
night's. Just what was needed to whet the appetite for a big turkey dinner. 
Now, he thought, watching the petite redheaded servant with the top-heavy 
figure clearing away the table, a little fucking between her tits would be 
all he needed to make the holiday complete. 

"I think I know what you're thinking," Dolores, who'd seated herself beside 
him, whispered in his ear. "Why don't you pay her a visit, if you want to? I 
think I'd better make it up to Harry for spending the whole of last night 
with you on the couch." 

Bud looked with slight surprise at the older woman's sly smile. Then he 
turned his gaze and cast Sylvia a telling nod before she took the turkey 
platter back toward the kitchen. 

"Well," said Jean down the table. 

"That's about the best Thanksgiving dinner I think I've ever had." 

"It was good," Harry Smith agreed. Bud sighed. There was not the slightest 
doubt in his mind, after watching them chatting at the pool this afternoon 
and seeing them again together at dinner, that nothing had happened between 
Harry and his sister. And it was perfectly obvious that nothing was going to 
happen tonight either. Jean hadn't even taken wine with her meal, and he 
knew better than to think there was a chance she would cheat on her husband 
without a little alcoholic courage to stir her on. Perhaps, he mused, that 
was the real reason Dolores had suggested he visit Sylvia. Harry had 
probably given up. And knowing Jean, Bud couldn't say that he would blame 
him. 

Bud waited patiently through after-dinner coffee and cocktails. He and 
Sylvia exchanged another knowing glance before she took off her apron and 
departed, and he couldn't help imagining what must go on when the Smiths 
were here alone with her. He wouldn't doubt that Dolores might enjoy 
swinging both ways occasionally, and from the look in Sylvia's eyes, he 
thought she would probably swing any old way at all. He finished his coffee 
slowly, waited for his stomach to settle. Then he announced rather awkwardly 
that he was going for a walk. 

He left the house and strode briskly the hundred or so yards to the 
cozy-looking cabin, remarking as he approached it that the big window on the 
side facing the house looked somewhat out of place. Then, veering off the 
path, he glanced through it, his eyes bugging at the sight that greeted him. 
Through the window he could see the open door of the bedroom. Waiting on the 
bed, naked except for her flimsy panties, was the doll-like redhead with her 
big beautiful tits standing up in completely obscene exposure. 

"I wonder where your brother disappeared to?" Dolores Smith remarked to Jean 
as she lounged on the same loveseat where Jean had sat last night, where she 
had almost in her near drunken stupor succumbed to the consuming desire that 
had raged through her long-unfulfilled loins. 

"Oh, I don't know," Jean said slowly. "He likes to be alone sometimes. I 
suppose he went for a walk or something." 

"Yes, I guess so." Dolores hesitated, watching the girl in silence. "I hate 
to seem rude. I know you slept late this morning, but Harry's already gone 
up to bed, and I rather promised I'd be joining him soon." She smiled. 
"Well, you're married. You must know what I mean." 

Jean flushed. "I don't mind at all. I was just thinking I might take a 
little walk myself. The air up here at night is so nice and ..." She let her 
voice trail off, and she couldn't help but wonder what Dolores would say is 
she knew the truth about her present sex life with her husband. 

"You're sure you don't mind?" 

"I promise," said Jean. "Really." 

"You could always drop in on Sylvia. She's got a really cozy little place in 
that cabin. And she's so lonely. She almost never gets to enjoy the company 
of anyone her own age. Why don't you go up and see her?" 

"Oh, I wouldn't feel right knocking on her door this time of night, and ..." 

"Nonsense. The fact is, she mentioned to me she would love to have you at 
any time." 

Jean looked at the other woman with a frown. Something seemed strange about 
this whole conversation. And why would the house maid mention to Dolores 
that she wanted to be visited by Jean? And why would she want to be visited 
in the first place? 

"Well, as you wish," said Dolores, rising. "Good-night. I'll see you in the 
morning." 

"Yes, good-night," said Jean, staring after her hostess, still baffled by 
the previous exchange. Then she shrugged, rose also from her seat, and 
walked out the door and started along the pool. Reaching the end of the 
house, Jean paused, taking a deep breath of the refreshing night air. Then 
she turned to gaze past the corner at the yellow light that issued through 
the window of the little cabin. Again she mulled over what Dolores had 
suggested just before she left. The whole thing sounded almost irrational, 
not serious or anything, but just not the kind of thing a person would 
suggest. Then she noted the window itself, like a picture window in a 
suburban home in an upper middle-class neighborhood, not at all the sort of 
thing she would expect to see in a cabin made of logs. She stared, 
fascinated and puzzled, at the window. Then almost without thinking of it as 
really her destination, she started along the lane toward the cabin. 

Halfway she stopped. She turned and looked curiously back toward the house. 
For a reason she didn't even understand, her heart was pounding almost 
furiously and her breathing was considerably hastened. There was something 
strange going on. She knew it even if she didn't know how she knew. Maybe 
she just sensed it. 

Again Jean started forward, now more slowly, almost creeping in the darkness 
of the moonless night. Then, now only a short distance from the little 
structure, she started as she heard the low moan, the agonized moan, that 
issued from within it. She stood still, listening intently, her heart 
pounding at the thought that there might be someone hurt inside. Again she 
heard a sound, similar to the first, and now she hesitated only a moment 
longer before starting forward, veering off the trail so she could see 
through the window. Then she stopped, staggering and almost falling to the 
ground, her hand coming up to her mouth in shock at the sight that greeted 
her. 

There through the oversized window was a doorway which led to a bedroom. 
Through the door she could clearly see the bed, and upon the bed she could 
see a naked couple writhing in sexual frenzy, oblivious to all else, and at 
the sight of them Jean stood transfixed, stunned, unable in the shock and 
horror that gripped her to even tear her eyes away from the obscene couple. 
Because it wasn't just any couple there on the bed, having intercourse in 
any normal fashion or position. The girl, of course, was Sylvia. And the man 
was Jean's brother Bud. 

As that shattering fact gradually dawned on her, Jean's legs almost went 
weak. For a moment she weaved dizzily on her feet. She thought she'd come 
close to fainting. But even so she'd never taken her eyes away from the 
compelling performance going on before her. She watched the busty redhead 
struggling willingly beneath her brother's naked body. The girl was kneeling 
on the bed, her full, rounded buttocks presented directly to Bud's thrusting 
penis. She was cradling her head in her arms, and her big soft breasts were 
cushioned down into Bud's hands each time he rammed into her to drive her 
forward on the bed. 

Half consciously, Jean moved slowly closer to the cabin, her eyes widening 
as her vision of the spectacle became even clearer. She could see almost 
perfectly each time Bud withdrew on the backstroke, pulling his bloated cock 
from between the girl's clenching buttocks and the heated depths of her 
upturned vagina; she could see it almost perfectly, almost the whole 
astonishing length of it, and it was huge. She could never have guessed that 
about Bud, as she supposed that she had never seen him with an erection when 
they were teenagers together. But she could never have imagined his penis 
could be so big. She would never have imagined any man's could. 

But even if she was having a certain amount of difficulty accepting the 
massive blunt-edged cudgel inside her narrow little cunt, the doll-sized 
redhead was obviously willing to try. She was grunting and groaning as the 
wetly pulsing hardness slid in and out of her widespread vagina. And when 
Bud spoke, Jean could hear him as clearly as if she'd been in the cabin with 
them, or at least in her shock it seemed that way to her. "Big enough for 
you?" he growled, squeezing and kneading the soft pliant flesh of the girl's 
melon-like breasts falling into his open hands. 

"Yes, God yes," the girl groaned. 

"Then why don't you turn over. There's something else I want to try." 

Jean watched in hopeless confusion as the nakedly panting girl slid around 
beneath her brother's tensely arched body. He was holding himself up with 
his hands, kneeling on all fours astraddle her. Lying beneath him now, her 
face looked soft and vulnerable. She didn't seem nearly as sure of herself 
as she had tonight when she'd served their dinner. The smooth white flesh of 
her breasts rose and fell heavily with her excited breathing, the round 
mounds tipped by the two now lewdly swollen buds of her rose-colored 
nipples. 

Then the astonished brunette almost gasped aloud as she saw her brother lean 
up even farther over the girl, his thickly swollen rod of flesh brushing 
through the flaming red hair of her cunt and sliding across her belly until 
it was practically fitted beneath her breasts. Then, straddling her with his 
knees at her underarms, he seized the two resilient mounds, pushing them up 
high and tight together so the cleavage closed like a warm white sheath 
right over the tingling flesh of his lust-hardened cock. 

"OOOOHHH," the redhead wailed as he began to flick his hips rapidly back and 
forth, shoving his hard penis back and forth up the deep channel between her 
mashed-together breasts. 

"You hold them," he groaned after a moment. 

The girl did as he asked, freeing his hands for other tasks, to which he 
eagerly devoted himself. With one hand, he continued to rotate the tautness 
of her swollen nipples, pushing the twin buttons together and moving them 
against each other in a friction that seemed to be almost driving the 
redhead out of her mind. And with his other he reached behind him, and with 
a quick flick of his wrist shoved his middle finger deep up between her 
lewdly out-splayed legs, skewering it deeply up into the moist pink folds of 
her seeping cunt, all the way up to his flattened palm. The girl jerked from 
the sheer sensation as he began to rotate it around inside her, teasing the 
wetly sensitive walls until the hopelessly-aroused maid panted and gasped 
for breath, surrendering moan after moan as she passively gave herself up to 
the lascivious plundering of her nakedly writhing body. 

Tense and horrified, Jean watched outside the window as her brother's middle 
finger drove brutally upward, sinking all the way into the glistening wet 
slit of Sylvia's sparsely-haired cunt. She could see the girl trying to 
squirm away from the teasing torture, but Bud was holding her shoulders and 
arms pinned tight to the mattress while his cock continued to move lewdly 
back and forth between her quivering breasts. 

"Oh Christ, it's good," he groaned. "Just like your cunt, and a little 
tighter, too." A lewd grin now lined his lips, and with his free hand he 
rubbed the underside of his lust-thickened penis, extracting it from the 
deep crevice between Sylvia's breasts and pushing it forward so that it 
almost touched her lips. 

"Lick it," he commanded, holding her helplessly pinioned with his knees. 

Jean was thunderstruck to hear her own brother utter such a lewd phrase, yet 
she felt a slight electric tingle dart menacingly down between her own 
thighs. She was shaking violently by now, and she realized that her breath 
was coming in time to the other girl's gasps of pleasure in response to the 
finger plundering the depths of her willing young pussy. In spite of all her 
shame and outrage, she was excited by the scene she witnessed. 

Obviously realizing she had no choice, Sylvia lifted her head and craned her 
neck, moving her face forward, and with a little straining effort, she was 
able to stick her tongue out and reach the tip of Bud's fully erected cock. 
She flicked her tongue right across the tiny opening at the tip, licking up 
the little droplets of seminal fluid that had seeped out. A thin lewd stream 
of white male pre-cum stretched across her open mouth, and the cords in her 
neck stood out from the strain as she tried to suck the huge instrument up 
into her mouth. But in Bud's present position it wasn't really possible, and 
he laughed at her frustration, moving up and down with it, striking it 
obscenely against her full ovalled lips each time it slid from between the 
swollen crests of her softly straining breasts. 

"Put it in!" the girl gasped at last, letting her head fall back to the 
pillow. "Put it back in my cunt. Fuck me." 

Oh no, Jean thought. It can't be true that I'm watching this. Not my own 
brother and that girl. But she stood rooted on the spot as the pinioned girl 
pleaded beneath Bud's nakedly kneeling form, brought already to the end of 
her tether by his outrageous manipulations. Then she sucked in her breath as 
Peter made a sudden jerking motion and moved himself rapidly down over the 
girl's tiny sensuously squirming body. 

For a moment the two figures on the bed were still. To Jean, waiting 
breathlessly outside the window, it seemed like an eternity. Then Bud began 
to slowly rock up and down above the girl, gradually insinuating his 
lust-engorged cock up between the flaming red curls of her pussy hair, 
withdrawing from her slightly so that the angry thick column of his cock was 
lewdly displayed for a brief instant before he thrust it forward again. The 
young maid squealed beneath him as Bud withdrew once more, and Jean's mouth 
dropped open in disbelief as she watched Sylvia's small but well-contoured 
legs wrap suddenly up around his laboring hips, her heels pressing down hard 
against the tensely hollowed cheeks of his buttocks as she strained to pull 
him back up inside the raging warmth of her soft young cunt. The long cords 
on the inside of her thighs flexed tightly as she slid her hair-fringed 
pussy back up over the lewdly glistening pole of Bud's rock-hard cock. Her 
soft white buttocks lifted several inches up off the bed as she struggled 
upward in a desperate attempt to absorb the entirety of the big hungry cock 
into the fleshy pink folds of her desire-filled cunt. 

A lewd wet viscous sound filled the room and issued out of it as the young 
girl managed to slither up the lust-inflamed hardness's full shocking length 
and began to rhythmically pound herself against the rigid shaft, feeling his 
soft round balls slapping wetly against the little opening of her puckered 
anus nestled so invitingly between her naked ass-cheeks. 

The wildly fucking couple drummed ceaselessly on, lost in their own physical 
lust, oblivious to all but the sensations of their wanton coupling. Outside 
the window, Jean tried desperately to pull herself together, to make a move 
to leave the terrible sight of her brother's obscene assault on the helpless 
redhead. But just as she was on the verge of succeeding, she saw Bud's hand 
curl beneath the girl's lewdly upturned buttocks, and to Jean's shock and 
horror, the finger searched along the crack until it found the forbidden 
little ring of her little anus. 

It eased around the circular opening, teasing and taunting the sensitive 
entrance for an extended moment. Then there was a sudden tortured groan and 
a violent twisting of the girl's body as Bud's thick finger slipped through 
the protective fleshy ring and disappeared slowly up inside. The girl kicked 
her legs outward; then with another loud squeal she locked them again above 
his back, pulling her pussy hungrily up against his hard-driving loins and 
the two simultaneous probings of her most private physical parts. 

Jean took a step backward, using all her concentrated effort to escape from 
the hypnotizing spectacle. In desperation she closed her eyes. She began to 
count backward from a hundred. Almost halfway to zero she suddenly turned, 
the spell at least momentarily severed, and without further hesitation, she 
went dashing back down the dark trail toward the house. 

Dolores Smith handed the binoculars back to Harry, who sat in his bathrobe 
in the easy chair pulled up to their bedroom window. "Well, she's seen 
enough for tonight, I guess. What do you think?" 

Harry lifted the binoculars to his eyes and watched the continued antics of 
the fucking couple in the bedroom of the little cabin. Then he lowered them 
as they both heard the back door of the house open, heard the sound of 
running feet in the hall, the opening and closing of another door, the door 
to Jean's bedroom. 

"She must be pretty rattled," he said. "She sounded anything but calm. I 
guess we just watch and see how she acts tomorrow. I think it would ruin 
everything if I tried bursting in on her now." 

"Probably so." Clad in only a see-through shorty nightgown, Dolores dropped 
to her knees beside the chair as Harry again lifted the binoculars to his 
eyes. She reached into Harry's robe, parting it below the binding sash then 
lowered her face over his loins to take the already partially erected shaft 
of his enormous cock between her ovalled lips. 

"Just hope she doesn't panic completely and run," Harry remarked, never 
taking the glasses from his eyes as his wife began to kiss and suck in 
earnest at his swiftly descending cock-shaft. 

In her room Jean pulled the covers up over her head in a child-like attempt 
to block out all memory of what she'd just seen. But it was hopeless and she 
still seemed to hear the echo in her ear of the helpless gasps of pain and 
pleasure that her own brother had caused to emanate from the mouth of the 
big-breasted redhead. She felt almost as if she were still standing there 
before that unnaturally large window, watching it all like a common voyeur. 

Then she stiffened, the thought of the window reminding her of the 
circumstances that had led her to stumble upon the lewd performance in the 
first place. It was as if Dolores Smith had sent her there. But why? Had she 
known what Jean would find if she did go to the cabin? Good Lord! thought 
the disturbed brunette. What on earth was going on here? She shuddered to 
imagine, and as she lay there in bed, she determined one thing for sure. She 
was going home tomorrow. Whatever she had to do or say to convince Bud to 
take her back to San Francisco, she was going home - to her husband. 

But even that resolution did nothing to quench the smoldering spark of 
desire that had been ignited up between her legs and now threatened to 
consume her whole naked body. She clamped her thighs together desperately in 
an effort to make it go away, but as if in a dream, her hands began to move 
involuntarily to the tautly straining tips of her breasts, and her fingers 
began to knead and pull at the already rigid nipples just as she had seen 
her brother do with the naked redhead. 

Her longing was just too intense, and she groaned, rolling over on her 
stomach to press the sensitively swollen bud of her tiny clitoris tightly 
into the mattress, attempting to put out the raging fire that was suddenly 
engulfing her lust-heated loins. But her hands moved against her will, 
burrowing down between her body and the bed, groping at the hotly throbbing 
center amid the moist tangle of her pubic hair. Her long legs scissored wide 
as she felt her own moist cuntal slit begin to physically palpitate against 
the cool tips of her fingers. 

Again she hesitated for a moment; then in sudden surrender she drew the 
narrow furrow open, letting the lips of her pulsating pussy open to the 
warmth beneath the covers, and with a groan of despair, she sank her middle 
finger straight up into the moistened mouth of her lewdly sucking cunt. 

Jean held her breath for an extended moment then let it slowly out. The fire 
inside her was burning every instant more intensely, demanding satisfaction 
infinitely more powerful than she was capable of, but in her desperation she 
felt compelled to attempt to obtain some kind of relief and she drew herself 
up on her knees into a kneeling position, straining with her buttocks high 
in the air. It was almost the same position in which she'd first discovered 
the Smiths' lasciviously promiscuous maid, and she began to frenziedly ram 
her fingers in and out of her aching vagina, inserting a second then a third 
to form a three-pronged wedge which she thrust in deeper and deeper as her 
lust-inspired madness built toward a crescendo. 

A stream of moans and whimpers poured from Jean's contorted lips as she 
began to masturbate in earnest. She had an incredible picture in her mind of 
her brother, of her brother's long slick cock looming out from his hard body 
and plowing relentlessly into the redheaded girl's helplessly aroused little 
pussy. And as she increased the teasing friction of the lewd finger-fucking 
into her parted loins, Jean's gasps became as the gasps she had earlier 
heard as she watched them through the window. She wanted it. She wanted the 
same thing. She wanted to be fucked just like the other girl. 

"God," she admitted orally. It was true. She did want it. She wanted to be 
fucked. Now she wanted it more than anything in the world, and she found 
herself wishing, deliriously wishing, that her husband Bill were there right 
now pumping his own rigidly erected cock up into her lust-seared cuntal 
passage. As she continued her furious finger-fucking, her full round breasts 
swayed with the motion of her naked body, her nipples brushing sensuously 
against the sheet to further taunt her raw nerve-endings. She gasped | and 
groaned, thrusting her fingers harder and harder up into her panty-less 
cunt, feeling her own inner walls grasping them hungrily and always longing 
for more. She needed a man. A man's cock. Her fucking husband's cock or 
Harry Smith's cock or ... or ... or her brother's. Her brother's! 

The thought hit her like a bolt of lightning. Her vision blurred, her 
breathing stopped, and for a split second her heart ceased to beat. And then 
the orgasm came rushing over her like a raging tidal wave of burning oil. 
Her whole body vibrated and jerked, and she was falling somewhere far out in 
space, exploding into the stars, hot cuntal moisture rushing past her hotly 
rummaging fingers as she gave herself up to the mind-shattering climax. A 
low distant-sounding wail issued from her open mouth, and she felt as if 
she'd been raked over by an omnipotent and devastating force, the very 
essence of the life in her body momentarily extracted to loom up in a cloud 
over her so she looked down from above at her own voluptuous and nakedly 
writhing form, caught up and swept away in the shattering crescendo of her 
release. 

"Aaaagghh! Uggghh!" she whined and grunted until every last bit of energy 
had been drained from her lust-tortured body. Then she became still, swaying 
slightly, stunned, maintaining her obscene kneeling position as the last 
little ecstatic tremors flowed over her. Finally she sank down, her fingers 
slipping from the moisture of her sated pussy and rolled limply onto her 
side as the horrid teeth of guilt began to gnaw like starved rats at her 
conscience. 

Chapter Six 

Bill Thompson mixed himself a martini and reclined on the easy chair in the 
small cramped living room of the little apartment where he and Jean had been 
living since just before they were married. Like living in a goldfish bowl, 
Bill thought to himself. Two goldfish bumping alternately into each other 
and the glass periphery of their tiny world. Maybe that was part of what had 
turned him off about Jean. But being cramped together wasn't the real 
problem. And during the two nights since Jean had taken off Bill had 
discovered beyond a doubt what the real problem was. 

He needed some stray ass. It was as simple as that. 

Unfortunately he was a little out of practice as far as hustling strange 
women was concerned, but he thought he would be rapidly getting back into 
form. He'd found an off-campus bar where there were a lot of younger coeds, 
sorority types, and he'd met a couple of hot little numbers he thought he 
might be able to make time with. And he was sure as hell looking forward to 
trying. He'd even discontinued work on his thesis. If Jean was taking a 
vacation he was too, and it was the best thing he could have done for 
himself. In spite of the fact that all he had, so far, were his hopes of 
scoring, he already felt like a million dollars. And for the first time in a 
long time Bill Thompson was looking forward to the fall of night. 

It was from this line of thought that Bill was interrupted several moments 
later by the sound of the front door opening. In an almost violent motion he 
shoved the martini glass to his lips and drained it as he stared with 
surprise and anger through the door to the foyer. There, framed in the door 
and rushing suddenly toward him, was his wife. She was back. She was back 
and it was only Friday and he'd been counting on her staying gone until 
Sunday evening. 

"Bill! Bill, darling!" she cried, rushing toward him as he gawked at her, 
momentarily immobilized. 

Jean knew that she had to do it this way. It was all or nothing at all with 
her now. There was to be no more tact or diffidence. He had to know she was 
a woman, with all of a woman's natural needs. And he had to fulfill the 
aching in her loins or else. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Bill managed, but without answering she 
was upon him. He received the full force of her body rushing against him. 
She flung her arms around him, sobbing on his shoulder and sinking down to 
her knees on the floor. She babbled incoherently, clinging to him 
desperately. 

"What the hell is going on?" he insisted, his face a study of annoyance. 
He'd been so sure that tonight would be the night he could score the strange 
piece of pussy that he so desperately needed, and now his whole plan was 
ruined. And what was she doing, crying on his lap like a goddamn baby? 

"Bill, honey, oh Bill! I missed you so much. I missed you, all over my body 
I missed you!" Jean continued to spew her adoration from her lips. Now she 
put her arm around his neck, trying to pull herself up to kiss him though he 
avoided her, turning his face to the side and refusing to meet her hungry 
lips. 

"Now calm down," he said. "Goddamn it, calm down right now!" 

"I know you love me, Bill. I just know it. Look at me. Look at my body and 
tell me you don't want me." She stood before him defiantly now, her legs 
spread out in a stance of daring. "Look at this body, my body. I have a 
beautiful body, Bill. And it's yours. You can use it, for anything you 
want." 

She was pulling at the zipper of her dress, working it off and sliding out 
of her slip and brassiere, pushing her nakedly trembling breasts toward his 
face and then whirling about in a swift pirouette, wiggling out of her 
panties to reveal first the tightly clenched half-moons of her buttocks and 
then turning to expose the awesomely beautiful triangle of dark black cunt 
hair nestled between her thighs. 

"I need you, Bill!" she cried desperately. "Can't you tell that I need you?" 

"Have you gone completely out of your mind?" Bill blurted, stunned by his 
young wife's lewdly shocking performance. 

But his words seemed to go over Jean's head. She persisted in her pleadings, 
refusing to be put off. She would do what she had to. No matter what it took 
to arouse him she was prepared to submit. Her fingers flew to her breasts 
and began to massage the tightly contracted pebbles of her nipples, tweaking 
them to an even more urgently tingling rigidity. 

"Feel them, Bill," she purred. "Feel them. They feel good." 

"Oh Christ," Bill muttered under his breath. But he was getting the germ of 
an idea. If he couldn't go out and find another woman, then perhaps he could 
take second best; a little variety from the woman he had at home. He did 
need to get his nuts off, and she was asking for it. 

For a few moments longer he watched her parading nakedly back and forth 
before him, stroking herself like a whore in heat. And that was all the time 
it took him to make up his mind. What he had in mind was perverse. Even he 
would admit that. But he'd always wanted to try it. She was demanding 
action! All right, she would get action. 

Feeling his cock begin to twitch and jerk in his trousers, Bill stood up and 
walked past his wife and through the door to the bedroom. He began to 
hastily strip as his wife came through behind him, a desperate but now 
hopeful look on her face. 

"Oh Bill," she moaned, watching him pleadingly as he dropped his trousers to 
reveal the lustfully throbbing shaft of his now fully-erected cock. 

Then he took her hand, leading her almost roughly to the bed, pushing her 
down on it and rolling her forcibly over onto her stomach. "Kneel up," he 
said. 

"What?" she whimpered, feeling a vague stirring of suspicion well in her at 
hearing the almost cruel tone of his voice. 

"Kneel up. You said you'd do what I wanted; well, this is what I want." 

Almost shivering, the voluptuously naked brunette did as she was told, 
feeling her naked husband assume a kneeling position behind her, almost the 
same position she'd first found her brother in behind the helplessly 
proffered buttocks of the redhead the night before. She felt his hands 
coursing over her buttocks, and a soft whimper rose from her throat as she 
felt him slightly part them. 

"Our problem is that we never have any variety in our sex. Always the same 
old hole. But you really do have a nice ass, Jean, and I bet money you're a 
virgin back here." 

"What? What do you mean?" 

Of course she was a virgin back there. My God, who did he think she was? She 
recalled that she had heard of people actually making love that way, but 
somehow she had never really believed the stories were true, except in 
reference to the most sadistic perverts and mental patients. 

"You wanted some loving, didn't you? Well, you're going to get some." 

Bill was leaning close to her now, his hands gripping her tightly around the 
waist. It occurred to her that her husband might still be only kidding, 
putting to the test her rash statement that he could do anything he wanted 
to her. But she couldn't be sure." He'd been so cruel to her lately, maybe . 
. . maybe he was . . . serious. 

"And I'm gonna love it!" Bill added gruffly, his lust-bloated cock looming 
suddenly up into the crack between her softly trembling ass-cheeks. 

Through a haze of bewilderment and panic, Jean felt his strong hands 
separating her fearfully quivering buttocks. She tried to clench her thighs 
tightly together, but he forced them cruelly open with his knees, the 
pressure of his thumbs inserted into the moist crevice too great and 
relentless for her to resist. The two mounds of rich milky flesh were pulled 
so far apart that she could feel the cool air rushing right up into the 
warmly forbidden passage of her rectum. 

"Bill. No! Not like this! No! You can't do it to me!" 

Realizing suddenly that this was no game, Jean began to squirm to get away. 
But her efforts were futile. He held her fast, and at last she ceased to 
resist. She waited, crushed, tears flooding in a stream from her eyes. How 
he must hate her, she thought. He must hate her so much. And perhaps she 
deserved it. Perhaps she was a nymphomaniac and a whore and he had every 
right to punish her for having so cheapened herself in trying to arouse his 
interest. But she knew he was determined to go through with his obscene 
intent. She knew with a sinking feeling that it was useless for her to try 
to resist. 

Then suddenly her whole body lurched as she felt the tip of his middle 
finger push up against the helplessly cringing entrance to her naked rectum. 
She clenched the tiny puckered anal lips tightly together in an effort to 
stop the cruel penetration she feared was coming, her muddled mind returning 
to the bizarre spectacle of watching her brother do the same thing with his 
finger to Sylvia as she'd watched them through the window. She shuddered at 
the thought, as she had shuddered then, though she reminded herself that the 
other girl had actually enjoyed it. Then, with the deranged workings of her 
thoughts, she imagined that perhaps she was being punished not in fact by 
Bill for her previous obscene display, but that Bill was only an instrument, 
the hand of God carrying out dire punishment for her having watched that 
terrible scene, reeking terrible vengeance upon her for the way she had 
finger-fucked herself afterwards and for the incestuous thoughts she'd 
entertained as she did so. 

Behind the kneeling brunette, her husband probed cautiously for a moment on 
the outer edges of the tight little elastic circle nestled so invitingly 
within the forbidden split of her naked buttocks. 

Then, feeling her shiver and cringe before him, he began to apply pressure 
to the tight resistance, feeling his finger sink with a pop into the tight 
little entrance to the first joint, to worm its way then slowly and 
relentlessly up into the rubbery hot sheath of her virgin asshole. 

"Nnnnnooooo!" Jean howled in the sudden searing pain. But in his present 
perverse mood her protest was only an encouragement and to add insult to 
injury he wormed in another of his fingers and began to lewdly work them 
about, rotating them painfully up into the tight dry opening of her 
protesting rectal passage in spite of all of her sobs and pleadings. 

"Oh don't, please!" the squirming brunette begged. "Don't. It hurts." 

Tears of pain and humiliation streamed anew down Jean's cheeks. She knew 
this was only the beginning. This was only the tender foreplay compared to 
his real intent. He was going to really genuinely make love to her in this 
horrible unnatural manner, if for the Lord's sake it could be called love. 
He was going to implant his big throbbing cock into her tightest and most 
virginal orifice. This would be the ultimate degradation. She knew it was 
the turning point of her married life, and she knew Bill must know it too. 
He must know that once they'd tasted the dark and forbidden fruit of 
sado-masochistic perversion they would never make love like normal human 
beings again. He knew it, and he didn't care! 

And as she waited in dread and trembling, Jean found herself thinking and 
hoping that she would never live through what her husband was about to do to 
her. Surely she would die, if not from the pain, from the shame and guilt 
and if not from that, from a combination of both. But even in her 
resignation, she felt compelled to continue to resist. She cringed away, 
screaming in protest until he planted his hand in the small of her back, 
pushing her hard down against the mattress to trap her beneath his lewdly 
digging fingers, scissoring them open and closed in her ravished back 
passage. 

Behind her, Bill felt a surge of power he'd never experienced before, and as 
suddenly as he'd shoved the thick wedges of his finger into Jean's lewdly 
stretched little anus, he now pulled them out. They left reluctantly, with a 
little pop, but his helplessly proffered wife could only welcome the brief 
respite as they left with the obscene little sucking noise. But she knew her 
relief was going to be a very transient entity as she felt Bill begin to 
shove her legs out wider by a spreading of his own knees between them. 

"Now. I'm going to make a real woman out of you. I'm going to break the 
cherry in your tight little asshole and then you'll have a little more to 
offer your loving hubby in the future." 

"Nooooo, nooooo!" Jean cried though she knew it was to no avail. Again she 
felt his hands on her hip, jerking them back toward his own naked loins so 
that once more they were high in the air and she was posed as a penitent 
with her breasts and face buried down onto the mattress. They were thrust up 
as if spread in open invitation, though nothing could have been farther from 
the truth. Jean would willingly have died first and she could feel her anus 
throbbing in total fear and helplessness in its anticipation of the horror 
that was to come. 

"There's gotta be a first time for everything," Bill grunted, his knees 
pushing her soft thighs wider apart, the stiff curling hairs on his legs 
brushing against the insides of her fearfully trembling thighs. Jean bit 
down on her lower lip until she thought she was bringing blood, tears of 
helpless frustration continuing to flow in endless stream from her reddened 
eyes. She gasped as his hands grasped more harshly at her hips, holding them 
steady in submissive resignation as he shoved forward with long rigid 
thickness of his cock, the same cock she'd hoped would churn lovingly into 
her moist vagina, now impressing itself in the clenching crevice of her 
nakedly parted buttocks. She realized that she would never be able to take 
it in her rectum. It would split her right apart. If she couldn't appeal to 
Bill's chivalry it seemed at least his sanity should respond, but though she 
continued to protest he ignored her, clutching her harshly to maintain her 
present shameful pose. 

"If you try to get away," he grunted, "I'll make it hurt even more." 

No sooner had he spoken these words than Jean felt the hotly throbbing 
instrument start to rove along the passage between her naked ass-cheeks. 
Then his thumbs were pressing back hard against either side of her puckered 
brown anus and she felt a probing between the thumbs that was at first soft 
and giving and strangely not completely unpleasant. Then suddenly it 
increased and as the hard penis began to surge up against its target the 
sensation became very unpleasant indeed. 

"OOOOOOHHHHH! NNNNNOOOOO! Please Bill, for God's sake, NO!" 

Jean almost passed out as she felt the tight nether ring give way before the 
unnatural and relentlessly unyielding pressure. The very tip of Bill's cock 
popped up inside her, embedded with a sudden jerk that made her cry out 
again even louder. 

"It's tight," Bill groaned. "But hang on, sweetie, I'll get it in there 
yet." 

The blunt intrusion of his desire-thickened member vibrated through every 
fiber of Jean's hopelessly prisoned young body. She knew there was no escape 
from the horror and degradation that her husband had planned for her, and 
she did try to hold still though it took every ounce of her self-control to 
keep her from thrashing like an injured animal. Then she felt him push 
harder and his soft rubbery cockhead was followed by the hard flexing shaft 
working its way up inside her viciously stretched anus giving way before it 
in blinding flashes of pain. She grunted aloud, groaning in total submission 
to the horrible penetration of her private nether flesh. 

It seemed to go on and on, his slow inching up into her burning rectal 
orifice. Then at last she felt the hair of his loins smack heavily into the 
smoothly rounded softness of her buttocks and she realized with some degree 
of wonderment that the fleshy thickness was buried finally to the hilt up 
into her rectum. She moaned in anguish, hanging on the stone hard cock like 
a piece of raw meat on an electric skewer slowly simmering from within. She 
could feel it searing her sensitive insides like a white-hot rod of steel, 
and she wondered if she would ever be able to recover from the inevitable 
damage that would be done her by her husband's cruel anal rape. 

Behind her Jean could hear him muttering obscenities and she thought he must 
have turned into a total sadist. Then she realized the penetration was only 
the second act as she felt him begin to rhythmically saw back and forth in 
and out of the depths of her soft nether passage. 

Now she was sobbing without restraint from the misery of his perverted 
attack. She had never felt so defiled and ill-used in her life and she 
longed for the oblivion of fainting. But she knew she would know no such 
mercy. She would remain conscious through the entire ordeal and she felt 
that in fact her mind had until this moment been only a half-conscious blur. 
Only now was she really and truly aware. She was aware as she'd never been 
aware before, of her body, of her shame, and most of all of her searing 
burning pain. 

Behind her Bill levered up on his knees and began to fuck the full length of 
his punishing rod into her helpless anus, driving up behind her with smooth 
long strokes that racked and buffeted her before him, the penetrating rod of 
flesh pulling the tiny pink ridges of her anal ring outward on the 
withdrawal, turning them then violently back inward with each repeated 
vicious lunge. 

Dimly, Jean was aware of her husband's faint chuckling with each hard push 
of his hotly rampaging cock into her tormented anal passage. Her body jerked 
and quivered and her thighs periodically convulsed and collapsed as an extra 
hard thrust would sear up between her brutally spread and pounded buttocks. 
She tried to sink down, but the very instrument she was trying to escape 
would lift her back to her knees, and Bill's grunts of pleasure, his refusal 
to express even a twinge of remorse at what he was doing to her were enough 
to wipe away any remnant of the love she'd once felt for him. Now, trying to 
take her mind away from the pain, she ruminated on her building hatred and 
womanly wrath. She wanted to get even with him, to hurt him back for the way 
he was hurting her, to humiliate him and torment him, to do anything she 
could to avenge the terrible degradation he was inflicting upon her. With a 
grunt she tried to clench her anal muscles together in the hope she could 
cause him some misery in exchange for the misery he was causing her. 

"Oooooh God, it's tight!" Bill groaned, throwing his head back in laughing 
triumph as he felt Jean begin to respond, flexing and caressing his pulsing 
cock with the warmth and tightness of her rectal muscles. 

Jean didn't seem to be able to remember a time in her life when she had not 
felt pain, when she wasn't kneeling slave-like before her husband, following 
his every wish and command like a trained circus animal. And it was a 
fitting allegory to their life outside the bedroom. That was the way it was 
between them. For these two years she had been living and breathing for him, 
hardly even daring to have a thought of her own. But from now on things were 
going to be different. She promised herself that. And then with a perverse 
and angry motion she began to move her hips back to meet the forward thrust 
of his hard throbbing cock and slapping loins, undulating her pain-racked 
body in tortured gyrations, swinging her buttocks in lewdly rotating circles 
and clasping the plunging cock tightly on each out-stroke with a deep 
squeezing throb of her rectum. 

But surprisingly, she found it hurt her less when she did this, and with a 
glimmer of hope she increased her efforts, cooperating and responding as if 
she were having the time of her life. 

Behind her Bill sensed the further voluntary response and he looked down in 
ever greater triumph at her glistening body and now red flushed ass-cheeks, 
watching the rubbery skin of the tiny dark hole draw back in its clinging to 
his emerging cock, turning almost wrong-side-out as he withdrew to the naked 
head. Then the tight fold of flesh was thrust hard and violently inward as 
he groaned and surged forward again. He was giving it to his wife as she'd 
never had it before and she was loving every minute of it. She was a 
driveling masochist, he realized, and that was probably why he'd developed 
his inexplicable contempt for her. But the novelty of the ass-fucking was 
more than enough to make it interesting and he was determined to give her 
everything she wanted from it. 

Below him Jean bucked and churned her body in wild contortions, nakedly 
matching his fury with her own. She sensed that he was nearing the end, that 
she could bring him to climax at the speed she chose if she continued the 
tormented jerking of her dispoiled backside, and she longed to feel finally 
the spurting of his hot cum into her burning asshole that would signal the 
end of her suffering and humiliation. 

"Oh cum,1' she moaned. "Come on and cum!" Grunting deeply in her 
determination, Jean suddenly fucked back against the kneeling man with even 
greater force, acting out her whole marriage in this one indecent act as she 
decided to go all the way with him. This one last time, if she could, she 
would run the whole gauntlet, the full circle of groveling and shame. And in 
doing so she would achieve her goal. By climaxing, she would derive pleasure 
even from his pain. There would always be a hollow ring to his perverted 
triumph. 

Jean could hear her husband gasping above her, incoherent vulgarities 
spewing from his mouth as he shoved forward with a mighty, racking thrust 
that almost sent her sprawling forward on the bed. And as his cock surged up 
even deeper in the sensitively violated orifice of her anus, she felt his 
thick hot cum begin to pump in relentless waves up into the innermost 
reaches of her bowels. 

Kneeling animal like in front of him, Jean met the full force of Bill's 
shattering climax as she took his hot male cum deep inside her lewdly 
stretched and ravished anus, feeling it fill the rubbery depths of her 
rectum to the bursting point with a warm sticky wetness. It went on and on, 
and then finally, with a last triumphant moan, Bill collapsed, rolling off 
her trembling body and onto his back beside her. 

It was over. Within moments she heard the soft rhythm of his snoring. He'd 
failed her again. Even by this lewd approach he'd left her disatisfied, 
dangling, languishing in limbo or purgatory. 

Chapter Seven 

Jean called Bud at the Art Department the following Monday and made 
arrangements to meet him in the Commons dining room at the student union 
building for lunch. She got a place in line when she got there and he 
arrived shortly after her. Though Bud ordered a hearty, if inelaborate meal, 
Jean restricted herself to a salad, fruit juice and yogurt for desert. She 
wondered idly, as she paid with the five dollar bill Bud had thrust into her 
hand, if she would be able to eat even that meager serving. 

"Where's your cosmic center?" Bud asked as they moved into the bustle and 
din of the spacious dining hall. 

"The most private corner we can find," said Jean. "For what I want to say to 
you, the last thing I need is an audience." 

They went to the smaller room that served as annex to the main dining hall 
and got a small table in the back that afforded them relative privacy. Bud 
dug immediately into his meal but Jean merely stirred her salad with her 
fork. Then, noting that she wasn't eating he stopped and looked up at her. 
"All right, kid. Out with it." 

Jean hesitated but for a moment. "You don't think, after the way I feigned 
sickness and cut our last visit short, that you could get us another 
invitation to the Smiths', do you?" 

Bud's mouth dropped open. He let his fork fall with a toneless ring onto the 
edge of his plate. Jean swallowed hard and took a deep breath. 

"Harry Smith made a pass at me the first night we were there," Jean began, 
then quickly added: "And don't get too upset before you hear the whole 
story. I think ... I think to some extent I may have invited him to do it." 

Bud paused before speaking. He wasn't sure quite how to react, though there 
was nothing very surprising about what Jean had told him. "All right," he 
said after a moment. "Harry made a pass at you? And?" 

"This is not easy for me to say, but. . . but I saw you making love to that 
girl. What's her name? The redhead. Sylvia?" 

"Uh . . . yeah, I think so." 

"There was something strange about the whole . . . situation there. I mean, 
I'm not the kind of woman to go throwing myself at another woman's husband. 
But I do find Mr. Smith attractive. And he's .. . he's certainly everything 
that Bill is not." 

'Things must be getting bad at home," Bud began. "Even worse than before." 

"It's very bad. Bud, I don't know. It's as if he hates me. I claimed 
sickness because .. . because I needed a man and, as of last Friday, I still 
thought of my husband as . . . the only man for me. But no more. And Bud ... 
I just have this feeling that. . . that whatever would have happened if I 
hadn't refused Mr. Smith that night, wouldn't completely have been happening 
behind his wife's back. Do you understand what I mean?" 

Bud drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the table for a moment. Then he 
nodded. "All right. I'll call Harry after I finish eating. Well figure on 
driving up Friday, so make arrangements to leave work at noon." 

"Thank you, Bud. I know I'm putting a strain on your private life. But .. . 
you must understand what I'm doing?" 

Bud nodded, then smiled. "I understand, kid. And don't worry. Going to bed 
with Sylvia is not the kind of thing you'll find old Bud objecting to. Not 
to mention Dolores Smith." 

He smiled at the look of shock that appeared on his sister's sensuous face, 
and watched it evolve slowly to an expression of comprehension. 

"Just one more for the bed, dear," Dolores Smith said, laddling another 
helping of the strong sour tequila-spiked punch into Jean's glass. 

"Oh I really don't think I can hold it," Jean giggled, gratefully accepting 
the drink, her big black eyes rolling as she sipped it and looked at the 
sophisticated woman sitting next to her on the loveseat in the living room 
of the elegant ranch-style house. Then she blinked, looking quickly around. 
"Where did the men go?" 

"The men stepped out for a cigar and a little locker-room gab. And they left 
us women alone to discuss our own little secrets." 

"Oh," Jean said and took another drink of the Marguerita, feeling the room 
seem to spin around her as the effect of the strong cactus-derived alcohol 
reached her muddled brain. It had required all of her brother's persuasion 
to prevent her backing out of making the second weekend visit. She just 
wasn't cut out for this sort of thing and she'd resigned herself to a 
weekend of turmoil and struggle. She just couldn't go to bed with another 
woman's husband right under that woman's own roof, even if she did have her 
silent consent. Though there had been a brief period when with the aid of 
the tequila-inspired recklessness had made her feel almost that she could. 
But that moment had now passed, and she knew that all she would be able to 
do was sleep. 

"I get the feeling you've been having a lot of trouble at home?" Dolores 
Smith began cautiously, watching the effect of the tequila mirrored in her 
pretty guest's sensuously sculpted face. She had a feeling that Harry was 
still going to have his work cut out for him in seducing her. She thought 
any tidbit of information might possibly be to his advantage. And she knew 
that at this point more tequila could do no harm, and could possibly make 
things a little easier for him. 

"How did you know that?" Jean asked, staring at the older woman. 

Dolores smiled and put her hand on the brunette's knee. "Women sense those 
things," she said. "Come on and tell me about it. Maybe I can be of some 
assistance." 

Jean took another long drink of tequila. Then, almost without intending to, 
she started to talk. And before she had finished she'd recounted the whole 
horrible story, omitting not even the last cruel animal rape of her anus. 

"What a monster!" Dolores gasped. "You poor darling. What you need is a real 
man, a man like my Harry. Someone sensitive to women, who can soothe you. 
Soothe you and excite you at the same time. You need the kind of man who can 
make a little ass-fucking a joy!" 

Jean blinked. Surely she hadn't heard correctly. But she was feeling so 
woozy from the inordinate amount of tequila she'd imbibed that she couldn't 
really be certain. But she couldn't help but believe Dolores had said that 
about her husband Harry. 

Then she smiled, stupidly she feared, and shrugged. Dolores smiled back at 
her and took her hands in her own, squeezing them warmly. "You look . . . 
you look like you've had about all you can take. Come on, let me help you 
into bed and ... I promise, everything is going to be fine very soon, much 
sooner than you can imagine." 

Gratefully Jean allowed herself to be led down the hall to the guest 
bedroom. She even allowed herself to be undressed and in her present 
intoxicated state she was hardly embarrassed about being naked in the 
presence of the other woman. As she slid between the sheets she was vaguely 
aware that for all her interest in taking off her dress, Dolores had not 
concerned herself at all with helping her into her nightgown. It was still 
hanging uselessly on the closet i in door. But she didn't feel like 
bothering with it now and besides, she was already under the covers. 

"Thank you, Dolores," she murmured softly. She looked up at the woman's 
tenderly smiling face, then slowly let her eyelids fall shut. "Thank you so 
much." 

Dolores looked down at her for a moment, then turned and went out the door. 
Her husband was coming down the hall and she stood just outside, waiting for 
him. "The poor angel," she said when he reached her. "She told me all about 
her problem. And you're exactly what she needs. So go in there, lover. Go in 
there and really give it to her." Dolores's manicured fingers brushed along 
the fabric at the crotch of her husband's trousers. "You're in for a real 
treat, I might add. I just undressed her for you and . . . she really is a 
beauty." 

"Thanks, love," Harry said, smiling. "Now, run along and get Bud. We don't 
want him to miss this." 

Harry watched his wife move away down the hall, then slowly cracked the door 
to the guest room where he could see the voluptuous brunette dozing 
peacefully on the bed, the light covers gently outlining the soft curves of 
her body, only her face and her long flowing black hair visible above them. 
Involuntarily he drew in his breath at the sight of her. She looked so 
innocent and beautiful, and it was clear that the tequila had done its work 
on her. There was something about the Mexican drink that distinguished it 
from any other alcohol Harry knew. Fed to a woman at just the right pace, it 
seemed to have an almost psychedelic effect. 

Short of Spanish fly or some other unscrupulous agent, Harry found it the 
best thing in the world for completely wrecking the willpower. And he didn't 
see anything wrong with giving himself the edge. After all, the luscious 
brunette did need what he could give her even more than he needed what she 
had to offer. He knew that already she was ready for him. She'd been ready 
last week. It was just her puritanical morality that had held her back. And 
a good tequila high didn't leave much room in the mind for such outdated 
concepts. 

Harry moved slowly to the bed and stood looking down at the girl's sensuous, 
sleeping face. Then ever so carefully he drew the covers down the voluptuous 
high-peaked mounds of her breasts, her smooth belly and narrow waist, her 
sensuously rounded buttocks and slender curved thighs and calves. She 
stirred slightly, though her eyes remained shut. Harry let his gaze rove 
slowly over the feast that lay before him, at last focusing his attention of 
the softness of her inner thighs, seeming to glisten faintly in the dim 
light of the room, and on the perfect triangle of silken black cunt-hair 
nestled between them. 

She looked like a goddess, he thought, lying there waiting for him. A love 
goddess, and his eyes peered hungrily on the faintly visible lips of the top 
of her pussy. Silently he opened the fly of his trousers and eased out the 
thickly throbbing hardness of his cock, feeling the heat of its 
blood-engorged head beginning to seep tiny droplets of seminal fluid. Slowly 
he massaged the smooth foreskin back and forth over the nakedly jerking head 
as he advanced around to the side of the bed toward the sleeping girl. 

This was really going to be fun, he thought, his anticipation building by 
the cured of a lot of her silly inhibitions then he dropped his pants to the 
floor and let his fully exposed hardness stand out in a proudly menacing 
erection over the spread-eagled body of the naked girl on the bed. As it 
twitched of its seeming own accord, he hurriedly removed the rest of his 
clothing. 

The aroused fifty year old man stood for a moment longer over Jean's 
sleeping body, now beginning to stroke himself to an even more turgid 
hardness. It felt so good and she looked so lovely that for a second he 
considered just stroking his rigidity until the white spurts of cum exploded 
from it and streamed over her soft naked breasts and belly to awake her like 
falling rain. But he quickly thought better of it. There was no use in 
getting reckless the first time and, anyway, he would prefer to feel her 
tight little cunt contracting around his cock rather than his own jerking 
hand. 

Hungrily. Harry Smith took in the magnificence of the girl's big, 
mauve-nippled breasts. Then he reached down, beginning to move his hands 
gently across their soft pliant firmness, tweaking the nipples to automatic 
rigidity under his experienced caress. As he did so the girl shifted 
slightly on the bed, moaning as though she were aware of and welcomed his 
touch. She was dreaming, he thought, and if he played her carefully she 
would be far beyond the point of stopping him before she awoke and realized 
that the sensations coursing over her naked flesh were not from a dream, but 
the real thing. 

"Bill ... Bill darling," she mumbled thickly through the fog of her 
tequila-altered consciousness. "It's all right now. That's different. That's 
what I've wanted from you all this time." 

Harry grinned. As for Jean, she had faintly heard someone enter the room,but 
the disturbance had not been enough to bring her back to consciousness. And 
when she'd felt the exquisite contact of the gentle hands on her breasts, an 
unconscious mechanism of her mind had seized upon Dolores's last words. She 
had thought they were coming true. It was, miraculously, Bill acting like 
the Bill she had once known and dearly loved, the Bill who had gone and now 
returned, as Ulysees returning to Penelope. He was here again and everything 
was all right. He was being gentle with her, taking care of her, doing 
everything she'd wanted and needed for so long, and already she could feel 
the blood beginning to stir through her veins, feel a warm tingling 
sensation coursing over her flesh and searing through her naked loins. 

Harry chuckled to himself. So she thought he was her husband? Well, she 
would damn sure know the difference between himself and her husband before 
Harry Smith was through! Even as he continued to stroke her breasts with one 
hand he returned his other to his rock-hard penis. Then he moved lower, his 
fingers dancing over the nakedly sleeping girl's smooth belly and the little 
hole of her navel, down through the thin strands of the hair of her cunt and 
into the warm wet folds of flesh between her thighs. 

"Ooooooooh," Jean droned on. Her nakedly stirring body was becoming more 
alert now, responding automatically to the expert caresses over her most 
sensitive bodily parts. Every portion of her sensuously exposed nakedness 
became achingly sensitized. She pushed the horrible anal rape that had been 
her last sexual experience completely from her mind, responding without 
restraint or inhibition. And already a few glistening little droplets of 
moisture were beginning to rise up between her parted thighs as the 
hair-lined opening of her pussy began a slow spasmodic contracting, 
throbbing delicately against each maddening caress, longing for more and 
more of the tantalizing contact. 

"Yes," she purred as Harry began to finger-fuck in earnest. "Yes. Like that. 
Like that. Ooooooooooh yes. I like it. I like it." 

Harry grinned. Her voice was becoming clearer now. And his face was becoming 
a mask of yearning desire as he continued to stroke and touch the naked 
brunette's moistly flowing cunt. He moved closer, then climbed up onto the 
bed and crouched on all-fours over her gently tossing white body, pushing 
her unresisting thighs wider apart. Then, his cock urgently twitching from 
his thickly haired loins, he scooted up between them, pushing Jean's legs 
even wider apart, his knees pressing against her slender calves as he bent 
over her, lowering his face to a scant few inches above the hair-covered 
mound of her nakedly throbbing little cunt. He could feel the saliva rushing 
into his mouth as he looked down at her silken, black-haired pussy, watching 
it moisten expectantly, almost begging to be filled. 

Jean was rising toward consciousness as if born by a great bubble of air 
from the ocean's murkiest depths. She was trying to open her eyes, straining 
against the heavy drawn-down lids. And now, as they did part to slits, she 
could see the shadowy form crouching between her helplessly spread legs. She 
could feel the palms of his hands pushing against the tender softness of her 
inner thighs, holding them out side apart. She could see his head dropping 
lower. She could feel his breath. And then suddenly he was doing something 
she'd never had happen to her before and she was suddenly awake, jerking her 
head upward, her entire naked body afire as she felt the man, some man's, 
moistly probing tongue surge up the length of the sensitive slit of her 
pussy, his lips planting tingling kisses on the tortured flesh surrounding 
the forbidden orifice of her desire-ridden little cunt. And all she could 
say was, "Oooooooooooooooh. Oh yes!" 

"We have them in nearly all the important rooms," Dolores said, leading Bud 
into the dressing room that adjoined the bedroom where Harry was launching 
the most lasciviously shocking assault she'd ever experienced upon Jean's 
helplessly stripped and spread-eagled body. "Or should I say looking in on 
all the important rooms?" 

"What are you talking about?" Bud grunted, his cock twitching hotly up in 
his trousers as he looked at the older woman's slender figure clothed in the 
loose gown that fell softly over her supple curves. 

"Mirrors! Two-way mirrors. We picked them up from a San Francisco antique 
dealer who bought out an old whorehouse on the Barbary Coast. I've tried and 
tried to get Harry to install a videotape system so we could start living 
like normal people in the twentieth century. But Harry thinks videotapes are 
to voyeurism what rubbers are to fucking, so I'm afraid this is the best we 
can offer." 

As Bud stared at her in confusion, Dolores stepped up to the wall, running 
her hand across it until she found a hidden switch. Then his eyes almost 
fell out of his face as he saw the panel slide away and found himself 
peering through a small window into a dimly lit bedroom, at two naked forms 
who were now but blurs in his eyes. 

"What in the hell?" 

"We're going to watch them while we fuck. Your sister and my husband. I'll 
admit it would be more orthodox if it were your wife and my husband but the 
variation on the norm should be interesting, I think." 

"But I can't watch my . . . my sister . . . being . . . being fucked!" 

"Why not? She watched you fucking Sylvia. So did Harry and I for that 
matter. And if we're up here to have a weekend orgy there's no reasons we 
should be prudish about it." 

As Bud gawked at the two blurs suddenly taking clear shocking shape in his 
view, Dolores seized her long dress and pulled it up into a bunch at her 
waist. Standing before him at the wall, she reached back to take his 
hot-fleshed cock, throbbing hardness, up between her round tightly formed 
ass-cheeks. It was only when he felt the softly moistened hairs of her cunt 
nestled in the snug warmth of her flesh that Bud realized she'd worn no 
panties beneath the clinging gown. Then she squirmed back against him 
automatically lunged forward, ramming the blunt-edged shaft up against her 
yielding cunt-lips to slide the long saliva-slick shaft of his cock straight 
up into the smooth clasping sheath of her vagina from the back. 

"Christ." he groaned as he felt her experienced cuntal muscles begin to work 
like little caressing paws at the sensitive hardness of his penis. This was 
even more than he'd been prepared for. After all. even knowing the facts of 
life, he hadn't completely abandoned the protective feelings he naturally 
had toward his sexy looking sister. 

Through the little window, Harry was now working hungrily, feeling Jean's 
soft wet pubic hair brush tantalizingly against his cheeks. Her elbows were 
pressed tightly against her heaving ribs and her head lolled helplessly from 
side to side, her own hands moving down as though with a will of their own 
over her smoothly rounded breast and warm flat belly to come to rest down 
between her thighs on either side of the two tingling lips of her cunt. 

Then she moaned deeply, arching her buttocks upward and inching her fingers 
outward to slowly spread the fleshy air-lined lips wider apart, exposing the 
moist wet inner furrow even more completely to the hungrily sucking mouth of 
the man between her thighs. 

She gasped as the hotly probing tip of his tongue darted out. its wet 
flicking surface circling the quivering bud of her erect little clitoris, 
his lips sucking hungrily it the warmly pulsing folds of flesh. And ever so 
slowly, the searing tongue wormed deeper, moving up and down the length of 
the lust-wetted slit of the brunette's cunt, probing limberly upward as his 
nose nuzzled the erected bud of her clitoris, sliding back out again to 
flick down across the little membrane at the bottom of her cunt-lips to find 
even more tantalizing contact with the other forbidden little orifice that 
lay hidden between the nakedly clenching cheeks of her ass. 

To her absolute shock it paused there, moving in a slowly tormenting circle 
around the little ring before it flicked back across and again moved up the 
quivering hair-lined vaginal slit. 

"Good Lord," Jean whimpered, her buttocks grinding out of control against 
the obscenely squeaking bed, her lips opening and closing as little 
kitten-like sounds escaped from her throat in the wake of the lustfully 
uttered expletive. 

In the other room Bud was completely overcome by the lewd presentation of 
his sister's obscene performance with the husband of the woman he was even 
now frenziedly skewering from behind with the raging shaft of his own 
lust-hardened cock. "I can't believe it," he groaned. "Jesus Christ, I just 
can't believe it." 

"Then maybe you'd like a closer look," Dolores Smith managed through gritted 
teeth. "Huh1?" 

"Follow me," she grunted. "And I mean follow me. Hold on so you don't slip 
out." 

Dumbfounded, Bud reached around Dolores's waist. She placed her feet on his 
and keeping his cock deeply embedded up between her buttocks into the warmly 
clasping softness of her cunt, he followed her directions and walked her 
along the wall to the door that led into the other room. She tlicked the 
light off in the dressing room so they wouldn't be overly obvious to the 
other couple, then gently ipened the door. 

Standing behind her and looking over her shoulder. Bud flexed his cock to 
twitch it even deeper up into Dolores's lust-seared cunt, and she was 
gratified to feel his hot panting breath on her ear, his penis searching 
like a roto-rooter up into the most sensitive folds of her pulsing inner 
flesh. 

On the bed in the other room, Harry Smith rounded his lips, oblivious to the 
intruders standing in the door, oblivious to everything but the taste and 
smell of the throbbing opening beneath his tongue, and he wormed and licked 
the limber instrument deep into the warmly seeping crevice to prompt a 
further low guttural groaning from the squirming girl below him. He felt her 
soft warm thighs close convulsively around his lewdly moving head, and the 
warm flesh of her pussy slipped moistly around his long extended tongue as 
the walls of her invaded vagina opened and closed in its own sucking 
response as though to pull him even deeper up into the searing hot warmth. 

Jean's heels drummed a frenzied rhythm on Harry's naked back, pressing and 
driving his body closer to her upturned buttocks and the wet trap of her 
spasming cuntal plane. It was difficult for him to breathe and his nose was 
pressed against the penis-like hardness of her jerking little clitoral bud 
so that he had no alternative but to inhale the most striking pungence of 
her hotly flowing pussy moisture. His cock was working up and down in an 
involuntarily twitching, swollen so hard he felt it would go completely out 
of control in seconds, and he knew he had to fuck this hot little piece of 
tail very quickly. He was running out of time. 

"Oh! Ah! Uugggghhh!" the aroused female moaned beneath him. Then suddenly he 
grabbed her flailing legs behind the knees and shoved them roughly back 
against her creamy white shoulder, slithering eagerly up her softly writhing 
body as she jackknifed before him on the bed. The swollen mass of his 
lust-stiffened cock brushed tantalizingly up against the soaking wet surface 
of her curling cuntal hair, and he placed his hands just below her 
shoulders, almost beneath her arms, feeling her lock her slender ankles high 
above his neck as he lowered the full weight of his own torso against the 
backs of her scissoring thighs, pushing them down until her knees rested on 
the soft cushions of the two lushly formed mounds of her breasts. 

Now the full darkly inviting view of the area around her pussy was 
helplessly exposed to his leering gaze, and his hungry eyes feasted on the 
pink hair-lined crevice, the flanged lips pulled out wide apart by the 
pressure of his thighs pressing down upon hers, pushing out on the rounded 
cheeks of her eagerly squirming buttocks. 

Still languishing in the effects of the tequila that had been poured down 
her through the whole long course of the evening, Jean no longer bothered to 
worry herself about the fact that the man hovering over her was not her 
husband, as she'd thought at the beginning of the dream. And maybe it wasn't 
even a dream. 

She didn't know and she didn't care. Whatever it was, she'd never known 
anything like the utter bliss of the sweet oral lovemaking to which she had 
just been subjected. And now she could feel the pulsing heat of his fleshy 
hardness lying full length up along the open slit of her softly quivering 
cunt, causing her whole body to tremble with a mingling of exquisite fear 
and expectation. It felt so big, almost twice as big as the one she was used 
to. and she realized that it would be a real challenge for her to receive it 
inside her. And yet now. in the dream-state of consciousness to which her 
raging lust had driven her, she rose to that challenge. She wanted it inside 
her, even if it hurt her. even if it injured her. 

And the delirious brunette probably had no idea how swiftly and profoundly 
her wish was going to be fulfilled. Harry Smith was now trembling with 
uncontained want, and he had no intention of fooling around any longer. The 
twitching hardness of his cock lay perfectly insinuated right along the 
softness of her welcoming little pussy slit, and as he felt her widespread 
buttocks begin a slow up and down hunching motion to tease his sensitive 
fleshy hardness to even greater urgency, he realized that she was just as 
ready as he was. She wasn't going to resist. He knew that now as surely as 
he knew his name was Harry Smith. 

Desperately Jean responded to the automatic flexing of Harry's cock up 
between her lustfully squirming buttocks. It was as if her hungrily yearning 
young pussy was inspired by a secret want of its own, as if it was searching 
desperately for the blood-filled tip, hungering for the obscene penetration 
her body demanded. And she knew now that she had to have it. No matter what 
the consequences, she had to have it now! 

Then, surrendering the last of her inhibitions, the desperately aroused 
brunette finally made a move to take the initiative. She reached down in 
between their bodies with one hand, her fingers searching over the moist 
lips of her own secret cuntal flesh to find the throbbing hardness that was 
already starting to press up between the open readiness of her now slickly 
lubricated cunt-lips. It was rock-hard and she clasped her hand tightly 
about it, her closed fist beginning a rapid up and down motion as though to 
force it into submission. And as she did so she fch it twitch up even longer 
and thicker in her hand, assuming an almost frightening proportion and again 
prompting her to wonder if she would ever really be able take it inside her. 
But now she was too tar gone, to be held back by timidity and without 
further hesitation she pulled it downward from the hairy belly from which it 
protruded, marveling at its springy resilience as she guided it up the 
length of the lewdly upturned valley of her buttocks, never letting it lose 
the previous contact with her flesh until she felt it posed and pointed 
directly between the gently palpitating lips of her vagina. 

She held it there with one hand, placing the other on Harry Smith's taut 
sinewy buttocks, sucking in her breath in determination and resignation to 
the searing penetration that was to come, then pulling with all her feminine 
strength to draw the hard cock-head up into the softly resisting lips of her 
tight little cunt. For shivering moment the entry was stymied. Then with a 
slight little pop, some of the resistance gave way and she felt the 
forbidden exquisite stretching of her sensitively soft flesh as just the 
blunt-edged cock-head pushed up into the entrance of the quivering little 
orifice. 

And then she could control herself no longer. "Oh," she moaned allowed. 
"Come on. Come on and fuck me. Fuck me! I need it so badly!" 

Bud Langford blinked at hearing those lewd words on his sister's lips. He'd 
never heard her say anything like that in her life, but the words he heard 
her now uttering to the naked man poised like a stallion above her were 
coming not from the girl Bud knew, not even from the person Jean herself 
knew herself to be. They poured from a source deep inside her,a wanton 
creature who instinctively had always known them, had always held them 
dormant within the shy, respectable housewife who controlled the voluptuous 
body in which both beings lived. This was Jean's second self, the other side 
of the coin, and now it had emerged to dominance. This was the real woman in 
her, the woman who knew no inhibitions or restraint and was determined to 
get what all women need and would say whatever she had to to achieve her 
obscene goal. 

"Give it to me," she begged. "Give it to me, you bastard. I want you inside 
me. I want your cock inside my cunt!" 

And now the other Jean, the one who'd always lived in dominance before, was 
shocked and stunned, yet lewdly excited by the surfacing of her inner self. 
Both of the beings were surrendering to the lure of the flesh. Almost, they 
were merging into one whole sane polymorphous perversion of femininity. 

"Christ Almighty!" Bud gasped in the doorway, no longer concerned with 
keeping his and Dolores's presence a secret. "Look at that hot little bitch 
go! No wonder she wasn't satisfied with that prick of a husband she's 
married to!" 

The lust-crazed brunette's brother had never seen anything from any woman 
that excited him the way she was exciting him now. He was really going out 
of his mind and he began to buck wildly forward into Dolores's widespread 
buttocks from behind as she bent over subserviently before him, her skirt 
still bunched high off her naked hips to facilitate his obscene intrusion. 
Bug-eyed, he consumed the bewildering scene before him. Whatever qualms he 
might have had about looking at his sister in such lewdly intimate 
conditions as he now found her had been completely obliterated by his sheer 
warped excitement. The lust flowing through his veins was like an enormous 
tide and he felt as if a whole new vista of sexual endeavor had opened up in 
a panarama before him. And even as he was obsessed by the obscene 
performance before him, he never paused in the vicious ramming of his cock 
in and out of the tightly skewered opening of his hostess's warmly 
undulating pussy. He felt like a man arriving finally in the promised land. 
Now anything was possible, he thought. The lines of restraint were all cut 
loose. The four of them here, the five of them in fact if Sylvia was 
counted, could do anything at all. Anything they happened to want. 

With a cruelly devilish motion Dolores Smith slipped the tenderly gyrating 
slot of her warm moist pussy away from the jerking shaft of Bud's cock. As 
he reached desperately to pull her back into position she whirled, looking 
at him through narrowed eyes as her tongue flicked from her mouth to lick 
deliciously across her inviting red lips. Then, a wanton smile on her face, 
she dropped to her knees before him. 

"What you need is a little more sucking," she purred distantly, knowing that 
he was getting out of control, wanting to control his cumming, to prolong 
his orgasm as much as possible. She waited for an agonizing moment, then 
with fiendish delight she darted her tongue forth to meet his lewdly 
glistening cock, tasting her own inner cuntal secretions along the wet rim 
of it. And as Bud trembled before her, she grasped his throbbing rod of 
flesh with both hands to draw the hard rubbery length of it up into her 
mouth, allowing the obscenely secreting tip to embed itself all the way down 
her tongue and into the back of her throat so that she almost choked. 

With a perversity he thought bordered on absolute madness, Bud returned his 
attention to the lewdly stimulating scene taking place before him, at the 
same time dropping his hands to seize the sandy-blonde hair of the elegant 
and sophisticated woman who knelt before him and draw her head tight against 
his loins to embed the lust-engorged hardness of his cock almost to the hilt 
in her violated mouth, relishing even in the gagging sounds that coughed 
from her throat as he began to fuck brutally in and out between her wantonly 
sucking lips. 

Lying still helplessly jackknifed on the bed, Jean could feel the aching 
lips of her lust-heated pussy being pushed slowly open by the cudgel that 
threatened to penetrate their sanctuary. Then she gasped as the pressure was 
suddenly increased. The elastic-rimmed tightness held for an instant longer, 
then gave way completely before the relentlessly surging force of Harry's 
rock-hard cock. She grunted shamelessly, gritting her teeth from the sheer 
raw sensation as he shoved harder against her. Then Harry bucked down 
heavily with all the strength of his body and her cunt flowered open in 
brilliant tribute to adaptability of the female physique, allowing him in a 
slow unyielding movement to sink his lust-inflated cock all the way to the 
hilt up into the lewdly stretched softness of her quivering cuntal sheath. 

Jean sighed out deeply, feeling his balls slap heavily against her clenching 
little anus as she screwed herself futilely down into the mattress in 
automatic retreat from the obscene penetration. But even as she did so, her 
legs splayed out wider apart, and as her dark eyes opened wide to look with 
mingled amazement and gratitude into Harry Smith's face, there was within 
them no protest to be beheld. 

As a precaution Harry held her still beneath him, sensing her final 
surrender as she shoved her face up to cover his lips with her own wide open 
mouth. But even as she kissed him, the girl struggled vainly to keep him 
from sinking any deeper into her. She already felt as though she'd never 
been so filled and stretched in her life and she was sure if the penetration 
continued she really would be split apart like a drawn and quartered slave. 

But everything she did only seemed to further excite her lust-crazed 
aggressor, and she could feel his viciously surging penis worming its way 
deeper and deeper into her futilely resisting vaginal tightness. The 
contracting walls of her cringing pussy clasped tightly around it as if of 
their own accord, and Jean could feel every ridge of the hard-muscled flesh 
as it pressed deeper and deeper until the rubbery tip came into blunting 
contact right on the smooth cushion of her cervix. 

It was in her. It was in her as deep as she could take it. The merger was 
complete and it filled her so that Jean felt almost as if it were a part of 
her, an addition to herself in its pain and hugeness deep up inside her. 

"Ooooooooooh, Mr. Smith! Mr. Smith!" 

Harry Smith was in no mood for conversation. He could feel the excited woman 
beneath him melting the searing tightness of her cunt around his deeply 
embedded cock, and he deliberately flexed it far up into her most sensitive 
inner depths. But to her complete surprise, this new familiarity caused a 
growing pleasure to spark within her, and like a trapped animal Jean began 
to answer Harry's intentional throbbings with a sensuous opening and closing 
movement of her own warm wet flesh around his thickly impaling cock-shaft. 

Without moving above her, Harry continued the slow and rhythmical throbs of 
his swollen penis deep inside the naked belly of the young girl pinned down 
beneath him. He could hardly contain himself. He could hear her groans of 
pleasure beginning to resound through the room and he knew this was the 
moment he'd been waiting for. He'd been waiting for it ever since last 
Wednesday when he'd first lain eyes on her. And now it was here Experiencing 
a deep-felt satisfaction, the older man watched as Jean's long frustrated 
body started to come to life. He would have bet money from the look on her 
face that she'd never been fucked this deep in her life. She was shuddering 
beneath every thrust of his cock, but he sensed that the pain was beginning 
to recede, slowly giving way to its opposite. She had begun to rotate her; 
hips slowly from side to side, initiating a teasing friction of her clinging 
vaginal flesh around his hotly impaling cock, and he could feel the moist 
orifice dialating and lubricating even further around his deep penetrating 
cock. 

And now he was beginning to feel the effects of the tantalizing contact, and 
he knew that sensations even more intense than those he experienced must be 
surging already almost out of control through he: lustfully aroused body. 
The beating hardness of his penis was rippling a fire of delight through her 
hopelessly awakened cunt, dancing like sparkles across her thighs and up her 
belly to the tingling nipples of her breasts, sweeping aside all her fear, 
all her guilt and shame, leaving nothing but the monomaniacal lust for 
satisfaction. 

Now Jean had almost completely forgotten about her husband. She didn't care 
that what she was doing was adultery. She didn't care that she was enjoying 
it. Because she was. It was wonderful. It was iike nothing she'd ever 
experienced in her life and even if she was damned in hell for eternity it 
would be worth this one exquisite night of joy. in the doorway, Bud could 
hardly contain himself as he watched his own sister's naked ass-cheeks begin 
screwing up against the length of Harry Smith's surging member. He was 
identifying with the other man, putting himself in that man's place even as 
the wife of the other man tightened iter lips around his own cock-shaft, 
groveling and gurgling in lust-inspired submission on her knees before him. 
He imagined it was not her mouth at all that he felt, imagined that it was 
really his own sister's pussy, and as a spur to that fantasy he focused his 
attention on the lust-swollen pussy-lips, watching them pull away from 
Harry's cock, sliding slickly down the full rigid length of the long shafty 
pole, then nibbling slowly back up as the soft black hair was brutally 
parted by each angry forward lunge. 

"Oh Jesus!" he groaned, no longer even caring if the couple on the bed heard 
and became aware of his presence. It no longer seemed to matter that there 
were really four of them in the room. It seemed natural that if Harry and 
Jean were there doing that, he and Dolores should be here too. It was his 
sister being fucked in the cunt on the bed. It was that man's wife being 
fucked in the mouth over here on the floor. And what, he asked himself now, 
was so terribly wrong with that? 

Now Harry was looking down in relish at the half-crazed smile of ecstasy 
playing on the lips of the lust-inspired girl who writhed beneath him. Her 
movements were becoming quicker and more intense, her belly slapping loudly 
against his stomach with each violent upward buck. She moved like a woman 
possessed by demons, her teeth biting into his shoulders, her dark eyes wide 
and wild, her head flailing from side to side. He could see that already she 
was straining to cum and far up inside her belly he could feel a sluicing 
wet sucking as her cuntal walls contracted in frenzy against his insanely 
pounding cock. She bucked against him like a wild woman as he buried himself 
deeper and deeper into her quivering pussy warmth. 

And then suddenly he realized it was going to happen. With a deep-throated 
cry she began to thrash and vibrate uncontrollably, wet pussy juices flowing 
freely down from her throbbing cuntal tightness, drowning his impaling rod 
with its sticky warmth, trickling its way obscenely along her inner thighs 
and down into the crevice of her upturned buttocks. 

"You too!" she grunted. "YOU TOO, MR. SMITH. CUM WITH ME. GIVE ME YOUR CUM 
INSIDE ME!" 

She'd gone beserk. screaming, begging, pleading, thrashing and tossing as 
though in a fit of depraved passion as he reached back behind to again grab 
the backs of her knees and push her once more into the humiliating jackknife 
position, his weight sagging down so heavily on her that for a moment Jean 
thought he might break her back. But even then she continued to cry and 
chant her pleasure and release, jerking and hunching her buttocks in a 
staccato of reckless fury as she felt the sudden hot spurting of the man's 
searing male fluid surging in great splattering drops far up into the most 
secret depths of her loins and belly. 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA EEEEEEEEE!" she cried. The widespread split between her legs 
couldn't seem to get wide enough for her liking. Now she yearned for more 
and more of the insane adulterous fucking, more and more of the wildly 
plundering penis, the pawing of her body, the absolute ravishment until her 
spirit was completely broken and she was nothing but a whimpering 
foot-licking slave of sex. 

But it was over. She could feel the tension go out of Harry's body, feel the 
last drops of cum mingle with her own, the instantaneous deflating of his 
cock in her loins. 

"Oh no!" she gasped. "Don't stop now. I want more! I WANT IT AGAIN!" 

Chapter Eight 

"Nooooooooo! No!" Jean continued to wail in lustfully awakened desperation. 
She'd just had a taste. She'd had the greatest climax she'd ever experienced 
in her life and it had whetted her appetite like the strongest aphrodisiac. 
She wanted more and more and already tiny relentless sparks of desire filled 
her straining cunt as she struggled and clasped at the softness of Harry's 
deflating penis in desperate hope of bringing it back to life. 

And then something happened that even she couldn't immediately comprehend. 

Harry was being pulled from her body forcibly by another man who'd entered 
the room. She closed her eyes in outrage and shame as she felt her host's 
limber instrument of sex slip from her loins. And then as she felt the 
sagging of the bed, felt the other man crawling up to where Harry had been, 
she opened her eyes to stare up in total shock and astonishment. 

"Come on, sweetheart. Your brother Bud's gonna show you some real fucking!" 

The sight of her brother stretching out above her sent Jean into a momentary 
state of shock. She couldn't move or breathe. She could do nothing but lie 
helplessly immobilized beneath him as his hands rummaged down between her 
still widely parted thighs and she experienced in spite of her confusion and 
embarrassment a renewal of the tantalizing sensation that had been so 
suddenly denied her. 

"Bud!" she gasped, staring up at her brother's flushed face that was now a 
mask of unreasoning desire leering down at her with the fury of the mad. And 
then suddenly he was levering himself up between her cum-smeared thighs. And 
she realized that he was just as naked as she. And she realized that Harry 
Smith was standing naked still beside the bed, that Dolores Smith, naked 
from the waist down with her long skirt bunched obscenely at her waist, was 
standing almost just beside him. Good Lord, Jean wondered. What in the hell 
was going on around here? 

"Ram it into her, Bud!" Dolores gasped, apparently incapable of resisting 
the attempt to give a little encouragement to the incestuous couple. Then 
she moved to comfort her husband for his having been so violently and 
unexpectedly replaced. 

"That's okay," Harry shrugged, putting his arm around his half-naked wife 
and starting to work the zipper down the back of her gown. "At least I got 
there first. If he wants sloppy seconds ..." 

Bud wouldn't have cared if it was sloppy tenths. It was his sister and he 
was going to get her, and that was all that mattered. The fully waiting 
plane of her naked cunt was presented to him like a human sacrifice and he 
was powerless to resist the temptation to take her up on what appeared to be 
an unrestrained invitation. 

Pinioned beneath him, Jean shuddered. Now this really was wrong! She didn't 
even know the word for it. Incestuous adultery, or adulterous incest? For a 
moment she was torn between her own high moral standards and the molten 
desire still scorching her already lewdly ravished vagina. But even she knew 
that the desire was going to win out, and as tears of shame and regret 
flooded her big black eyes, she formed on her lips the only words she could 
say under the circumstances, as she saw them: "Fuck me, Bud. Just fuck me!" 

Bud needed no other invitation. His heavy muscular body sagged down upon her 
twitching nakedness, pushing her full tight breasts back against her chest, 
and at the same time the thick pole of his cock searched up to plunge deep 
into her hungrily waiting pussy, pushing the moistly unresisting folds of 
his sister's flesh in rippling waves before its cruelly surging head. 

My own baby sister! 

The thought blinked on and off in Bud's mind like a neon sign, but any 
misgivings he might have felt were only momentary. As beneath him Jean cried 
aloud with her continued astonishment at what was happening, he drove in 
even deeper with the thickly satisfying hardness of his cock. The burning 
walls of her pussy clasped down greedily around the fleshy cudgel, sucking 
it deeper and deeper as he persisted in the lewd and unnatural entry until 
he was finally embedded to the hilt and she could feel the obscene slap of 
his hairy balls right up into the crack of her parted buttocks. 

Again she was filled, just as before. Again she experienced the exquisite 
flooding of relief, and she groaned and tossed beneath him, beginning her 
movements almost immediately upon the completion of the obscene penetration, 
reveling in the renewed stretching of her already violated cuntal passage as 
Bud began a heavy deep thrusting into her lust-expanded softness. 

"Oooooh," Jean moaned in the abandon of her ecstasy, feeling the sudden 
waves of release starting almost immediately to flood through her belly and 
love-tortured loins, up through the swells of her breasts and the tingling 
nipples that tipped them, out over her perspiring goosebumped skin, down her 
thighs and calves to become little explosions leaving her body at the naked 
tips of her toes. She had been so close before and now it was going to 
happen. It was going to happen for the second time in one night and that was 
something she hadn't known even when she thought it had been good between 
her and Bill. 

She was going to cum again! 

And then, almost quicker than she could have believed, it was happening 
again. "I'm going to cum. I'm . . . IH'MMMM CUMMMMMMMINNNGGGGG! Oh my gosh! 
Bud! BUD! I'M CUMMMMINNNGGGG!" 

She was crying and writhing in insane abandon, her voice shrill with 
overwhelming passion, her body going crazy with sheer physical madness. And 
then she really did think for a minute that she was losing her mind, for as 
her mouth opened to let out another of her banshee cries she found her lips 
suddenly touched by something at first soft and giving, full of an odor that 
smelled partly like her own, slick-feeling, hard and resilient just below 
the softness - a man's penis, she realized almost with bewilderment. 

And then before she had time to close her mouth or object, Harry Smith 
shoved his cock brutally between her lips, beginning to move almost 
immediately as she floated on the last spasms of her second orgasm and began 
to strain for the inevitable third. He sped his newly rejuvenated instrument 
swiftly in and out between her teeth, ramming it brutally toward the reaches 
of her throat. Beneath him Jean coughed and sputtered, trying to get the 
technique down for this new brand of self-debasement, groaning around the 
violating shaft as her brother continued his own assault on her lust-driven 
loins. 

And the two big male cocks filling her body were better than one. She had to 
admit it, as she felt the promise of newer and even greater ecstasy begin 
already to stir through her flesh. Her lips were stretched impossibly around 
Harry Smith's hard-driving cock, and the hopelessly filled inner passage of 
her seething vagina was churned and plundered ceaselessly by her brother's 
equally enormous instrument. It was perverse and it was exquisite, and a 
spark of masochism that she had so long denied sprang fully to life as she 
realized to what extent she was enjoying what was happening to her. 

My God, she thought with joyful wonderment. I'm no better than a common 
streetwalker! But then, she figured she must always have been somewhat 
masochistic. Why else would she have ever let Bill treat her the way she 
had? But that was over forever. If she was going to suffer, she was going to 
damn well enjoy it! 

The two men were enjoying themselves almost as much as she was. Harry's cock 
was getting harder and harder deep inside her mouth and throat and he was 
fucking rhythmically in and out as if he were fucking a cunt. Bud rode her 
lower body like a stallion riding a mare in heat. Dolores, positioned at the 
corner of the bed, was spurring both men on with little proddings of her 
fingers up between their buttocks against the forbidden openings of their 
own anuses. 

But this still wasn't the limit, Jean realized in the delirious workings of 
her mind. There was a way she could be subjugated even further, and now she 
found herself longing for her subjugation to be complete. And in a sudden 
desperate move toward that end, she jerked her face to the side just as 
Harry was completing his back stroke. Before he could thrust forward, she 
forced his cock from her mouth. And the jaded and perverted art collector 
was astonished at the words which were addressed to him by the 
masochistically aroused brunette. "Do it to me in the back, Harry. Fuck me 
in the ass!" 

His face flushed with excitement at what he was being asked to do, Harry 
rapidly climbed up on the bed. In the meantime Jean strained against her 
brother, pushing him upward with a powerful motion of one of her thighs to 
roll him over on his side, all the while holding his cock deep in her vagina 
with her warmly caressing inner muscles. As they fit themselves tightly back 
together. Dolores Smith moved quickly to assist, moving her hands gently 
down between Jean's automatically clenching buttocks to pull the two rounded 
cheeks apart in preparation for her husband, who was rolling in a reclining 
position on his side behind her. 

"This is really going to be good and tight," the older blonde said. "You're 
gonna . . . you're gonna love it, Jean." God, she thought, how long had it 
been since she'd possessed such a warm tight little anus? The years slipped 
away faster than one imagined, but at least she and Harry weren't wasting 
any time. They could go to the grave with few regrets and if the devil took 
his due he would surely take it with all due respect. But she still couldn't 
help envying these two kids. They had it all ahead of them, all those 
wonderful, perverted years. 

By now Harry was already worming his heavily swollen penis up between the 
young girl's reflexively clenching ass-cheeks, his hardened cock-head 
pressing relentlessly against the little nether ring of flesh. And between 
the two men she squealed and wriggled, trying to accomodate the second cock 
even as the first continued to plunge into the other of the two twin 
orifices of her loins. Then she grunted as Harry shoved forward with greater 
strength and it entered with a pop. 

"AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Jean gasped, her rectum suddenly on fire as she felt 
Harry's iron-hard cock gliding forward all the way up inside her anal 
passage, rubbing smoothly across the thin separating membrane against the 
rising thickness of her brother's slow-fucking cock. 

"Oh Bud," she moaned in her mingled pain and pleasure, clinging for comfort 
to her loving brother, smothering kisses over his face. She was open and 
loose all over. Both men were loving her, loving her the way she had for so 
long deserved to be loved. It seemed now that the effects of the tequila had 
almost completely worn off but the pounding desire that had been pent up 
inside her for so long sufficed to maintain the ecstasy of her ravishment 
and surrender as she was sandwiched and buffeted between the two greedily 
fucking men. 

And as her desire resumed its ascension, her womb flowered even wider open 
and the tightly petalled cuntal slit flared to receive the shattering 
assault on her pussy while her buttocks quivered endlessly, the cock-filled 
channel of her rectum expanding joyfully against Harry Smith's deep hard 
thrusts. 

"Ooooooooh!" Jean whimpered and groaned and the bedsprings squeaked in time 
to their fucking as she bounced and jerked between the two men. The sounds 
of the trio's deep straining grunts and groans filled the air of the guest 
room and the noise of their naked bodies slapping together resounded like 
the crackings of a whip on uncovered flesh. 

"You hot little cunt!" Bud groaned into his sister's mouth. "Why didn't you 
tell me this was what you wanted?" He could feel the hot cum billowing up 
inside his balls as he continued his frenzied fucking into her now tightened 
cunt. He could feel the sliding movement of the other man's cock rubbing 
against his own deep inside his sister's slippery-smooth pussy and the 
increased sensation only added to his torment. He was ready to explode and 
he felt his control further slipping as his sister's mouth covered his and 
she sucked his tongue far down at his throat, as she squirmed her breasts 
hungrily against his chest and invited him to maul and paw with his hands at 
all the luscious curves of her voluptuously naked body. 

Jean could feel her insides splitting painfully as the two cock-heads fucked 
together inside her loins, one from behind and the other from the front. 
Four hands were roving over her heated body, and if that didn't seem enough 
two more were added as Dolores climbed up on the bed with them, inserting a 
finger here and a thumb there, whatever she could find to play with. At last 
however she seemed content to situate herself at the foot of the bed, 
constantly ducking wildly flaying legs and feet. But from here she was able 
to see everything that went on and she could reach up between the squirming 
bodies to cup and cuddle the two men's balls and tickle teasingly the tight 
little membrane to only add to the maddening sensations being inflicted upon 
the hopelessly impaled girl. Refusing to be left out, she ran her fingers 
mercilessly over the private parts of not only the two men but Jean's 
thrashing body as well, vicariously enjoying their lust so intensely that 
she was sure that when her turn came she would cum at the slightest touch 
from any one of them. 

"Oh fill me, fill me!" Jean groaned in delirium, knowing full well she was 
already filled to the hilt by the two largest and most powerful penises she 
had ever seen. She sucked her brother's tongue again hungrily into her 
mouth. She jerked and bucked and hunched in a melee of groping arms and 
legs, plunging cocks, slapping bellies and buttocks as the two giant cudgels 
were buried again and again in her softly yielding body. 

And then almost simultaneously the two plundering penises began to spurt 
their hot seed up into her. They spurt load after load of cum inside her 
cunt and asshole that she was sure it would tear her to bits. She could feel 
the two white hot streams of male liquid shooting like burning fire up into 
her simultaneously ravaged orifices, ricocheting around inside her dilated 
cunt and anus like streams of hot lava overflowing from two erupting 
volcanoes. She answered them with her own terrible earthquake of delight, 
cumming in both places it seemed, cumming all over as the two separate 
sensations merged and were one sheer unquenchable flame of lust and delight 
and engulfing satisfaction. 

She could never have believed it possible, but her anal passage was 
contracting in the spasms of climax almost as fast as her pussy. It was a 
compliment to her vaginal relief, intensifying the frenzied jerkings of her 
sensitive little clitoris as she milked thirstily at both the hard-ramming 
cocks, her loins drinking them dry of the surging male liquid. 

Sensing what was happening, Dolores Smith could contain herself no longer. 
In a fit of passion and need she sprawled headlong on top of the writhing 
trio, using her fingers to open her tormented cuntal flesh to contact with 
their thrashing limbs, climaxing as gloriously as if it were she and not the 
other girl who was being fucked and being sodomized by two men at once. 

The whole thing was almost more than Jean could stand. She felt as if she 
would go out of her mind, and the pinnacle achieved, seemed to go endlessly 
on and on. Then finally they all seemed to shudder of one accord, grinding 
to a twitching halt, collapsing together, gasping heavily to catch their 
breath. 

For a moment Jean closed her eyes. She almost drifted off to sleep. Then she 
opened them again, leaning close to the face of her brother who still lay 
pressed tightly against her. "Bud? Are you asleep?" 

"Not quite," he said, managing a tired happy smile. 

"What do you think of me now?" she said. 

"Think of you?" 

"Yes. After what just happened. Do you feel ... Do you hate me?" 

"Don't be ridiculous," he frowned. He didn't know what else to say. He 
didn't know what she meant. 

"I'm going to leave Bill," she said matter of factly, not waiting for an 
answer. 

Bud nodded. "Good. I'm glad to hear that. It's good news." 

"Can I stay with you? For a while, anyway, I mean?" 

Bud drew his hand slowly up over her naked breasts, his palm caressing 
softly on the little nipple that seemed almost magically to swell back to 
life. "Stay with me? How do you mean that?" 

"I mean with you." 

"Not as my sister?" 

"Unless that's the only way I want you." 

"You'll always be my sister, kid. But right now, and for a long time to 
come, that's the only way I don't want you." 

"I guess it's wrong," said Jean. 

He shrugged. "I guess so." 

She bit her lip-and smiled. "Let's do it anyway. I'm going to call that 
bastard Bill." * 

* 

* Bill Thompson staggered sleepily to the phone and lifted the receiver to 
his ear. "Hello?" 

"Hello, Bill. It's me," he heard his wife say. He should have known. 

"Very interesting," he grunted. "Do you know what the hell time it is? What 
do you want at this time of night?" 

"To tell you I won't be bothering you any more. I'm leaving you. In fact, 
except for a few old dresses, I've already left." 

"Yeah. I bet," Bill said. The bitch. Did she think he was some kind of dolt? 
He felt like spitting in the receiver. 

"You don't have to believe me. But it's true. Good night." 

"Hey!" Bill gasped. "Hey wait!" He didn't know why, but he sensed something, 
or heard it, in her voice. It was almost as if it wasn't even the same woman 
he was talking to. "What are you talking about?" 

"I'm leaving. I don't love you any more. I'm going to stay with Bud." 

Bill thought it over for a moment. He was being suckered too fast. And in 
the first place, what the hell did he care if she did leave? The question 
was answered quickly enough: She was the only working member of the family. 
But that still wasn't any reason for him to panic. Part of what kept her in 
line was his go-to-hell attitude. He knew that, and he wasn't going to 
abandon that successful policy just because the boat was rocking a little 
bit. 

"What, Bill?" she asked softly. "You said wait. What do you want to say?" 

Bill forced out a raw little laugh. "Still don't feel like you're getting 
enough cock for your money's worth, hunh?" 

"No, Bill. I don't." 

"And you think that's going to change if you're living with Bud?" 

"I know it is. It already has." 

"Oh yeah?" Bill snarled, though his face was now creased with a distinct 
frown. 

"Yes. Bud and I are lovers." 

The receiver clicked at the other end of the line. Stunned, Bill Thompson 
let the receiver of his own phone drop from his hand. It hit the coffee 
table with a bang. He whistled slowly, feeling a churning in his stomach, 
his legs almost going weak beneath his body. 

He knew it, goddamn it. He knew it. The bitch was telling the truth. She 
meant business. And he was out in the cold. 


End
