Housewife's Revenge
by Arnold Hornby


FOREWORD 

Throughout history, woman has faced the oftentimes unpleasant choice of 
giving her total self to save either a principle or a loved one. Perhaps the 
first such recorded incident, other than various quoted incidents in the 
bible, was the sacrifice the young princess of Egypt, Cleopatra, made to her 
Roman captors. Many love stories have been written around the relationship 
of Julius Caesar, Marc Anthony, and the hapless princess, but it is fairly 
well documented today that her love was not for her conquerors but for her 
people, whom she attempted to save by the use of her womanly charms from 
their hated conquerors. 

In Mr. Hornby's novel, he has applied this situation to a not too unusual 
modern-day circumstance. He has placed the heroine, an innocent young 
housewife, in a position where she must make a historical Cleopatran choice. 
That is, the choice between the love and well-being of her husband or the 
prostitution of her own body and soul. Her task, unfortunately, is not made 
easier by her ambitious but irrational young husband. He becomes, in effect, 
an unwitting instrument in his wife's own moral destruction. 

We, the publishers, do not wish to make a decision as to the justification 
of our heroine's action but will leave this to you, the reader. In saving 
her husband from his own avaricious greed for the material things of life, 
we can only hope that it shall raise the question and consequently lead to 
serious thought by you, the reader, on this entire field of moral 
justification. 

-The Publishers 

 CHAPTER ONE 

It was a thoughtful day for Julie Jeffers. Late summer, muggy, lonely. She 
was in the kitchen, staring out the window at Terry Creighton, their tall, 
leggy next-door neighbor, who was playing a thin column of water on a 
sun-bleached spot of lawn. Terry moved with an air of conscious dignity, 
almost a lightness, even though her voluptuous body seemed to be designed 
solely for abandon and pleasure. It was popularly accepted that Julie and 
Terry were the unchallenged beauties of the block. 

The telephone rang, jolting Julie back to her immediate surroundings. It was 
probably Eric, her husband, making his daily noon call from the lab. She 
dreaded picking up the receiver. 

"Julie? Listen, I've decided on dinner. Fish, just fish and a leafy 
vegetable. You can choose the vegetable, but please, try for once to come up 
with something nutritious and practical." 

"Eric, I-I'm not sure there are any sales around. And you know how upset you 
get when I shop at Paddie's. You've told me time and again not to buy from 
him, because he's too expensive, even though he's so close and convenient." 

"Goddammit, Julie, can't you manage to walk to Save-Rate? I mean, it's not 
that far-maybe fifteen minutes each way. Or do you want to argue about that 
too?" 

"Oh no, I'll gladly walk there. It's just-just that I'm supposed to finish 
Terry's party dress this afternoon, and as you've said, we can use the money 
she'll pay me for helping her." 

Eric's silence at the other end of the line was like an accusation, proof of 
Julie's chronic incompetence. 

"Julie, please, just go get the fish and try not to think for yourself. I'll 
be home at the usual time." 

"All right, I-" A click, then the hum of the dial tone, cut short her reply. 
She had meant to ask if he felt well, if things were running smoothly at the 
lab. Once again, she shuddered at her stupidity, how she always failed to 
please him. 

Dressing in preparation for the walk to Save-Rate, the huge market in the 
shopping complex at least a mile away, she assessed herself in the 
full-length bathroom mirror. At thirty, she seemed lovely even to herself, 
her high bulging breasts spilling in tantalizing contours from her narrow 
shoulders. Her stomach was flat and willowy, making her waist an altogether 
dramatic and exciting contrast to her full breasts and sleek hips. Only a 
dime-sized birthmark flawed the unbroken perfection of her smooth creamy 
buttocks. 

True, she was not as tall and self-contained as Terry, but felt in herself a 
potential, a restless urge, that somehow justified her own secret belief in 
her desirability. 

As she applied eye makeup, she studied her face, her huge brown eyes, the 
delicate high-arched nostrils, the lips curving above like gull's wings on 
the downbeat, and full below. In college she had earned a beauty title, and 
yet, no boy had ever asked her out a second time. She had decided that they 
all wanted the same thing-to seduce her, the campus beauty queen, and then 
strut around bragging about it. But she had never given in. And then Eric 
had appeared, a bright boy with a brilliant future in engineering. He had 
never made a pass at her, was sensible and considerate, and had showered her 
with gifts and fevered declarations of love. It had been more her fault than 
his, that night after the football game and party, when she had 
allowed-actually encouraged-him to unbutton her blouse and fondle her 
breasts. She remembered the terrible weeks after that night, when she was 
certain his finger had got her pregnant. Now she wished he had done more, 
that she had been even bolder and more vulnerable. Perhaps their sex life 
would be different now, really exciting, and not the embarrassing ordeal 
that they felt obligated to endure two or three times a month. 

As she was hooking her bra, the front door buzzer sounded, loudly and 
insistently. It was probably Terry. 

"Come on in," Julie shouted through the partially-opened bathroom door. "I'm 
in here, getting ready to go shopping." 

"It's just me, honey. Nothing important. I just came over to tell you the 
news: I've lost six whole pounds since last weekend. Isn't it wonderful?" 

"Why, Terry, that's marvelous! I'll bet Jake's proud of you. But you're not 
planning on losing more, are you?" 

"Not much more-maybe a pound or two," Terry said offhandedly. "Don't kid 
yourself about Jake, though. He's too busy screwing his clients' wives, and 
anybody else he can, to lose any sleep about my figure. But I don't really 
care what he does on the road. He brings home those nice fat commission 
checks, and they make practically anything tolerable." 

"Terry, you don't mean that," Julie chided as they moved into the kitchen. 
"You and Jake seem so happy. Everybody thinks so. I'm almost envious. I 
don't mean Eric and I aren't happy; it's just that lately he's been under 
such pressure at the lab, and we-" 

"Oh, come off it, Julie! We both know perfectly well that your husband's a 
flop in bed, and blames it on you. It's pretty evident to anyone with eyes. 
If you two weren't such idiots about sex, you'd shake your dated morals and 
try something new. Read up on it. Even doctors are saying that extra-marital 
sex can enhance, and sometimes save, marriages. And it can even be 
profitable." 

"What do you mean?" Julie asked. "If you're suggesting that wives ought to 
become prostitutes, to submit themselves to-" 

"Poor, poor Julie," Terry mocked, smiling. "I guess you'd rather bow down to 
your impotent husband's abuse than use your head? Come on, Julie, what's so 
bad about saving a marriage, no matter what methods you use? As for making 
it pay, you know as well as I do that money is one of Eric's major concerns. 
Believe me, if I were in your shoes-and if Jake weren't so damned 
successful-I wouldn't think twice about getting involved in some sort of 
juicy sex thing. I wouldn't mind the fun, either." 

Julie was surprised when she realized that she had been listening intently 
to Terry, hinging on her neighbor's words as though they were invested with 
great wisdom. Everything sounded so logical. 

She was late, though, and despite the fact that her curiosity was piqued, 
Julie was anxious to excuse herself and start for Save-Rate. Eric had been 
adamant about dinner and would be furious if she failed to meet his demands. 

"Please, Terry, forgive me," she begged, "but I've simply got to shop for 
dinner. Maybe we can discuss this later." 

"Sure, I understand," Terry soothed. "But think about it, anyway. If you 
ever work up enough courage to do something about saving your marriage, let 
me know. I'm chummy with some of the more enlightened couples in the 
neighborhood, and I might be able to work you two into the action. You might 
find some answers to your problems. To be perfectly frank, I'd like to claim 
some of the sweets myself, but Jake's always out of town, and it's a rule 
that only couples can participate." 

"Thanks, Terry, but Eric and I would never agree to anything like that. And 
please, don't ever mention to anyone that we've even discussed this 
subject." 

"Fine, honey; suit yourself," Terry shrugged. "I've got to tear off now 
anyway. And besides, you've got to begin your daily ritual of servitude ... 
to stuff your supremely stable husband with sacrificial food and undeserved 
praise." 

Julie hurried on the way to the market, spurred on as much by anger as fear 
that perhaps Terry was right. She prayed she would find a sale on fish-or at 
least be able to juggle her allowance so that Eric would believe she had 
been thrifty. Then her thoughts turned to Terry's remarkable knowledge of 
sex and what she made sound like a harmless way to supplement the family 
income. Terry had seemed so certain that any such venture-whatever it 
was-was really innocent and enjoyable. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Julie received news of the Creighton's party the next afternoon. Terry had 
telephoned to invite her and Eric, seasoning the invitation with suggestions 
that this might well indeed be an ideal opportunity to salvage Julie's and 
Eric's marriage. The guests sounded exciting, not at all the usual sort. 
Terry had gone through the list, describing each person with candor. First, 
there was "a wild-eyed, very progressive poet" who was coming with two of 
his mistresses; then an ex-priest; an irreverently witty photographer; 
several couples from their own neighborhood; and someone really mysterious, 
a film director and producer, about whom Terry knew next to nothing. Even 
Jake would be there. 

Julie was strangely, disturbingly thrilled at the prospect of the party. It 
would be an excellent outlet for the tensions that had been building up 
inside her. Hopefully even Eric would enjoy himself. She had called him at 
the lab and been flabbergasted when he had expressed an eagerness to attend 
the party. 

Just as she was putting the finishing touches to her face, the telephone 
jangled. 

"Jule-this is Terry. Listen, dress to the teeth this evening. Lester Mauley, 
a big man in pictures, is coming, and I've heard that he's always on the 
lookout for talent. Remember what we talked about? Well, try to loosen up 
and be nice to him, for me. He might put you on to something worthwhile. 
Just keep it in mind. I've got to run now. Bye." 

Julie lingered a moment, the monotonous dial tone lulling her into a 
hypnotic acceptance of the vague opportunities that the name Lester Mauley 
formed in her mind. She replaced the receiver on the hook and headed for the 
bedroom, a peculiar sense of hope lending an unaccustomed pertness and 
courage to her stride. 

"Please hurry, Eric. We're already twenty minutes late. You know how Terry 
is when her guests are the least bit late." 

Seated on the edge of the bed, pulling on his socks, Eric grunted and 
frowned. Julie felt a little abashed at her own boldness, talking to him 
that way, and stood staring at him, waiting for the expected reprisal. But 
he continued to dress, silently and with deliberate haste. Involved as he 
was, he failed to notice her drawn-out appraisal of his body. She had not 
dared to look at him long and openly-at his flaccid penis and balls, the 
curve of his rump-for nearly two years. His frequent inability to achieve 
and maintain an erection made him extremely sensitive about his genitalia, 
so she studiously avoided any reference to the area. This evening, though, 
she hardly considered the fear of reprimand. There pulsed in her a new hope, 
an as-yet undefined sense of adventure and self-importance. Something in her 
was at the brink of fulfillment. 

The party was already under full sway when, almost forty-five minutes late, 
Julie and Eric arrived. The living room was filled with the strains of 
exotic guitar music, muffled somewhat by a vulgar tenor voice issuing folk 
rock from the downstairs den. People were everywhere in the house, milling 
about, swilling down their drinks, searching for either Terry or Jake to 
secure refills. Still feeling deliciously agitated, Julie left Eric and 
wandered into the kitchen, looking for Terry. She was startled to see an 
extraordinarily handsome middle-aged man with both hands under a young 
girl's skirt. Shocked but fascinated, Julie stood a moment in the doorway, 
observing the spectacle. Then she recognized the girl: Marsha, Betty 
Lorimer's eighteen-year-old daughter! The girl was smiling and slowly 
rotating her hips in the older man's lap. The others in the kitchen were 
completely oblivious to what was happening right in front of them. They were 
obviously much too occupied to notice, being themselves lost in conversation 
and drinking. 

"What a gorgeous dress, Julie! Why, you're absolutely beautiful!" Terry 
cooed as she slipped through the throng and casually kissed Julie on the 
cheek. "I was afraid you and old grouch-puss had changed your minds about 
coming. Well, what do you think of the party so far?" 

"Terry-" Julie halted, not knowing quite how to express her consternation at 
seeing Marsha Lorimer being so flagrantly fondled by a man more than twice 
the pretty girl's age. "Terry, I-don't you think Betty ought to know what's 
happening to Marsh? Look at them-and she's actually enjoying it!" 

Terry grinned and patted Julie consolingly on the shoulder. "I wouldn't 
worry, honey, if I were you. Betty's setting a fine example right now, in 
the back bedroom, with her husband and a nice young man they met at one of 
their own parties. Besides, Marsha is in wonderful hands. That's Lester 
Mauley she's with." 

"You mean the film producer you mentioned, the one who's 'always on the 
lookout for talent'? " Julie asked, her face coloring with the register of 
even greater shock. 

"The same," Terry said, still smiling. "Come with me now. I'll fix you a 
really wild drink, something to help you get into the swing of things." 

As they left the kitchen, Julie saw Mauley's right hand withdraw from under 
Marsha's skirt and disappear inside her blouse. Marsha's own hands were 
busily employed inside the man's unzipped trousers, rousing him on to lewd, 
even more enthusiastic manipulations of her breasts. Her lips were parted, 
and she seemed to be breathing heavily. Julie's heart raced madly, her legs 
rubbery as she followed her hostess into the lavishly decorated rumpus room. 

Eric was already drinking, his expression clearly showing disapproval of the 
orgy-like atmosphere of the party. As Terry moved around behind the portable 
bar to fix herself and Julie the special, "really wild" alcoholic concoction 
she had mentioned, Eric leaned close to his wife and whispered: "Jesus, what 
a disgusting bunch. It looks like it's turning into a screw-in, one of those 
obscene sex fetes you read about. Hollywood, hippies. And you can't begin to 
imagine what all this is costing Jake. Foolishness like this makes me sick!" 

But Julie paid little attention to her husband's disgruntlement. Instead, 
she gave herself over to the fascination building within her. The music, the 
smoke-choked air, the people paired off or in small clusters, and the 
thought of the handsome film producer brazenly squeezing and exploring 
Marsha's lush young body, made Julie feel helpless and submissive, unable to 
fight down the excitement provoking her to wish she were more a part of the 
party. The cocktail was working, too. Occasional rushes of warmth flooded 
her loins and softened everything and everyone in the room. Even Eric seemed 
less formidable, and she found herself thinking back to the excitement she 
had felt on that night they had come so close together in the back seat of 
his car, his hand on her breast, her taut tingling nipple growing more and 
more rigid between his thumb and forefinger. She remembered how he had 
probed the swollen lips of her vagina with his other hand, finally slipping 
into its warm, moist interior with first one, then two fingers. She had 
pushed her crotch down against his hand, shamelessly, wantonly aching to 
engulf him. 

"Julie, baby, I want you to meet someone, a very distinguished guest and 
personal friend of the Lorimers. This is Mr. Lester Mauley," Terry beamed, 
her hands joining theirs in a salutary manner. "Les--Mr. Mauley-has a 
horribly exclusive studio right here in town. It might pay you to get to 
know one another. I'll see you both later, after I refresh everyone's 
drinks-especially Eric's," she said over her shoulder, departing with 
flourish. 

"So then, you're Julie," Mauley offered. "Terry has spoken of you with 
reverence and, I might add, seems to think we have something in common." His 
voice was deep and cultured, as though he had had training in diction as 
well as in the art of charming any female within range. "But let me suggest 
that we move to a quieter place, perhaps the living room, where we may talk 
without all this ghastly chaos." 

Wordlessly, she followed the tall, smartly-dressed man to a small couch in 
the living room. Oddly, she had forgotten Eric, all the others, that this 
man had been taking cruel advantage of Betty's daughter in the kitchen, and 
was involved in some mysteriously illicit enterprise. 

Mauley cast a quick glance around them, satisfying himself that they were 
safely out of earshot of others in the room. 

Moving closer to Julie, he spoke in a conspiratorial tone: "Terry has 
informed me that you're desperately in need of money, a great deal of money, 
which you might be interested in earning at your leisure, afternoons. I 
believe I can help you. You see, I own and operate a small, quite private 
studio where my associates and I film and photograph art subjects. Quite 
frankly, we deal mostly with nudes, sometimes filming couples or groups to 
personalize and highlight the creative aspects of uninhibited socialization. 
I pay quite handsomely and am sworn to protect the anonymity of my models. 
As for the films and photographs themselves, they are discreetly distributed 
among responsible agents in this and several other countries. What do you 
think, I mean knowing what I've explained to you?" 

"I-I can't say yet, knowing so little about what you really do. Is there 
some way I can see for myself without becoming too involved?" Julie squirmed 
on the couch beside him, a brief flash of fear and her habitual feeling of 
inferiority coming over her. Her sheer, daringly low cut dress felt 
weightless, inadequate as cover from Mauley's insulting professional 
evaluation of her tense, ripe body. His hand, his right hand, the same one 
she had watched invade Marsha's blouse, moved to rest warmly on her arm. 

"Please try not to interpret my offer as anything but strictly business, 
Julie. Should you decide to accept, you may rest assured that your work will 
be thoroughly delightful and challenging, and damned profitable. You'll be 
making a genuine contribution to a select segment of our society." 

"Yes, yes, I understand-I think I do. I-I just-my husband-" Julie faltered, 
not really clear on what she had started to say. Mauley's hand tightened 
reassuringly on her forearm, then moved away and dipped inside his 
fashionably tailored English tweed jacket, reappearing a second later with a 
small white card between his fingers. 

"Please take my card and stop in to see me tomorrow afternoon, say between 
one and two o'clock. The address is on the card. Now, let's join the others 
and have another of Terry's scandalous cocktails." 

She rose with Mauley-Les, Terry had called him-and together they picked 
their way through the crowded rooms to the rumpus room, where she was 
relieved to find Eric engaged in a heated debate with Jake. They were 
arguing, with much animation, about alloys, something having to do with 
whether or not the hybridization of iron and brass really changed the 
character of good beer. Eric was very drunk, wore a supercilious grin, and 
waved his glass to punctuate the most decisive points in his argument. He 
did not notice Julie's entrance with Lester Mauley. 

The party had increased in tempo. The music was now frenetic, the air even 
thicker with smoke and a medley of perfumes. Julie saw Marsha Lorimer 
standing in a corner across the room, her father's arm around her waist. 
Betty was behind the bar, a husky, brute-faced man in his mid-twenties 
seated in front of her on a tall stool. They were laughing and exchanging 
knowing, intimate looks according to the rules of some conspicuously erotic 
game. Betty, a splendidly endowed woman of forty with long black hair, 
leaned forward on the bar, her huge breasts resting like balloons on the 
highly-polished oak surface. Her young playmate cupped both of her breasts 
in his hands, then lifted his clenched fists to his mouth, tilting them up 
as though he were drinking an imaginary offering. Julie felt her nipples 
tingle and harden as she watched them, wondering if Bill Lorimer had also 
seen his wife and the young man playing their sex charade. 

Suddenly Terry was beside her. "So there you are," Terry scolded as she 
motioned for Julie to follow. "Hurry, I want to show you something 
interesting." 

"One thing's for certain," Julie remarked as they descended the stairs to 
the lower level of the house, "I've never attended a party anything like 
this. But what really amazes me is that it's all happening next door to my 
own home, and many of my closest friends are the center of attraction." 

"You're just growing up, honey. For that matter, the whole country's growing 
up-at least as far as sex is concerned. What's most ironic, though, is that 
we're just now getting around to accepting an attitude toward sex that many 
so-called 'backward' peoples have had since the year-well, for a long, long 
time." 

"Terry, how on earth do you know all this-about sex and people and things 
changing?" Julie asked with undisguised awe and respect in her voice. 

"I read ... and listen," Terry answered. They were approaching the den. 
Terry turned and put her finger to her lips, indicating to Julie that they 
must be quiet now. A half dozen or so guests were standing just inside and 
around the den door, all staring raptly into the room. Crowding up close to 
the others, the two girls craned their necks to peer into the room. What 
Julie saw took her breath away. 

A short, heavily-muscled man, whom she had never seen before, was sitting 
naked between two apparently young and yet totally uninhibited girls, also 
naked. Slouched down on the couch, as much on his back as his buttocks, he 
wore a smug grin and had his hands clasped behind his head. His long, thick 
penis rose totem-like and inflamed from his corded loins, his heavy 
testicles hanging like wine sacs over the edge of the cushion. One of the 
girls, a blonde with curd-white skin and vermilion-tipped breasts, was bent 
over the man, sliding her lips up and down the length of one side of the 
pulsing cock. 

Then, as if by tacit agreement, she grasped the man's lust-hardened member 
and thrust it toward the other girl, a dark-complexioned girl, who 
immediately seized it and began to tongue the wide spreading head. The man 
arched, his hands coming from behind his head almost involuntarily to wind 
his fingers, in the dark girl's hair and pull her mouth down to his 
throbbing penile staff. Responding, his lust her own, she squealed and 
crammed his fleshy piece deeply, deliberately into her mouth. The thick 
spongy shaft drove down to her throat, choking her, until she sucked 
upwards, greedily milking his semen off, savoring the taste of it mixed with 
her own saliva. She then began to suck in earnest, her dark tresses bobbing 
as she pumped her head rhythmically over the breadth and span of the huge 
oozing organ. 

Julie pressed against Terry, frowning, and afraid that her hostess might 
detect that she was trembling and out of control. Nevertheless, it was 
urgent to Julie that Terry's attention be directed to the fact that the 
Latin girl might be suffering, ashamed. 

Waving off Julie's panicky intrusion, Terry took her friend's arm and 
advanced a few steps. It was then that Julie noticed that the man's nudity 
was not complete. He still wore a pair of intricately-tooled cowboy boots, 
the heels of which were then not three feet from her own. 

"My God, Terry," Julie groaned with child-like disbelief, "look at her! 
She--likes it!" 

The blonde pulled the jerking penis from the other girl's mouth and plunged 
it into her own moist cavern, her lips thin with the pressure of her arduous 
sucking. The dark girl burrowed her lush wet lips in the cowboy's pubic 
bush, gradually, teasingly, inching lower and lower toward his huge 
throbbing testicles. 

"Bear down, ooooooh, suck, suck, you lousy cunts!" the cowboy shouted, his 
hips bucking upwards, imbedding himself in the honey-haired girl's throat. 
Julie mashed her dimpled thighs against Terry's firm buttocks and pointed 
with her chin toward the trio. The Bubbly white lather at the corners of the 
girl's mouth frightened and intrigued Julie. "Is he cumming-is he cumming in 
her mouth?" 

"Not yet, honey, but soon," Terry assured her with glee and a strange 
hoarseness. "Be quiet and watch." 

Ramming deeper and deeper into the blonde's sucking mouth, the man turned 
his gaze directly to Julie, who was now kneeling almost at his feet, her 
eyes glazed with shock and amazement. He winked at her and grabbed his 
balls, pushing one of the boiling orbs into the dark girl's open mouth. She 
whispered and with her free hand eased his other testicle between her full 
lips, gently pulling and pushing his elastic scrotum as she rolled her hot 
tongue from side to side. His breathing was heavy, mounting. He was almost 
there. 

Sensing the nearness of his peak, the blonde tightened her lips and, working 
her hands under his backside, pulled the cheeks of his ass forward, driving 
his loaded prick into her throat up to hilt. He convulsed, phlegmy white 
jets of cum spurting and gorging her, into her slender throat. She swallowed 
and pulled on his cock, eager to gulp down every last drop of his sperm, but 
thin streams of the precious fluid seeped from her red wet lips and ran down 
the still-lurching shaft, to its base, where the other girl was waiting to 
lick off her share of his cumming. 

A spirited murmur, rising to a pitch of applause, rose from the onlookers. 
Then, to Julie's surprise, Terry strode to the center of the room and, 
raising her hands above her head, clasped them together in a gesture of 
victory. 

"Bravo, bravo," she yelled, wheeling to one side and extending both hands, 
palms upward, toward the exhausted performers. "Now you see-America lives, 
Rome is reborn! Congratulations! Let's have a hand for sex and poetry!" 

Without thinking, Julie joined the others in hearty applause. Both girls 
stood, nodded, and just as Terry had, opened their arms in admiration to the 
conceitedly smirking cowboy, who rose unsteadily and returned the compliment 
in like manner, not only to the girls, but his audience-and to Julie in 
particular. 

"If I may," he said, "I'd like to thank you all for whatever inspiration you 
gave me during this happy, if carnal, encounter. And I'd like especially to 
laud my hostess for having the good sense and ... money to arrange this 
occasion. Nor am I blind to her taste in neighbors-namely, the felicitously 
shaped young woman now at her side, of whom I've heard glorious reports from 
my latest, I hope last employer, Lester Mauley. May we meet again." 

"Okay, everyone, let's go upstairs and have a nice tall drink to celebrate 
that pretty speech," 

Terry suggested. 

As the group straggled up the stairs, Julie turned to Terry and asked, "What 
did he mean? Is he really working for Mr. Mauley? How did he find out about 
my conversation with Les-Mr. Mauley?" 

"Don't fret yourself about it, baby. No harm's been done, and anyway, it 
can't hurt anybody's reputation to be friendly with that madman of a cowboy. 
He's one of the best poets in the world today. Les just wants to help him, 
the same way he wants to help you. You'll see," Terry said softly. 

* * * 

Although Eric was unusually garrulous as they crossed the lawn and entered 
their silent house, Julie said nothing, not even agreeing, as she normally 
did, with her husband's pontifications and self-righteous judgments on 
everything under the sun. She wanted only to rest and still the rising tides 
of idea and emotion inside her. And she wanted to dream and relive what she 
had lived that night. 

Settling into bed, Eric gazed at the ceiling and, as though Julie were not 
beside him, said, "I can't understand it. All those people lushing, laughing 
like hyenas, even flirting ... and no one having fun." 

 CHAPTER THREE 

The air was cool, the sky gloomy gray, as Julie mounted the steps to Lester 
Mauley's studio. She was glad she had heeded her impulse to wear her black 
wool knit dress, the one Eric had given her on their first anniversary. She 
remembered how guilty she had felt, knowing that the dress was an 
extravagance they could ill afford. 

She smiled, then, reassured by the sumptuous facade of the studio, which 
seemed positive proof of Mauley's wealth and veracity. It seemed strange, 
though, that only his name was listed over the mailbox. There was nothing to 
indicate that his third-floor apartment was "a small, quite private studio" 
where art subjects were professionally filmed and photographed. 

As she waited for someone to answer the door, she attempted to assemble the 
events of the night before in a rational order. First, there had been her 
alarm at seeing Mauley in the kitchen with young Marsha. Then, even more 
unexpected, there had been the cowboy-poet, his lovely mistresses, and the 
incredibly liberal behavior of most of the other guests. Everything about 
the party had been shocking, yet fascinating and- 

"Yes, may I help you?" the petite blond asked, her boldly casual scrutiny of 
Julie no less startling than the sudden appearance of someone at the door. 

"Oh, yes-yes," Julie stammered. "I've an appointment with Les-Mr. 
Mauley-now. That is, I mean he said to come about this time. I'm Julie 
Jeffers. I met him-we were introduced last evening, at a party, my 
neighbor's. Is he--? " 

"Sure, he's here," the blond smirked. "Come on up." 

Julie could not help but notice the blonde girl's loose, arrogant gait as 
they approached the elevator. 

"You going to work for Les?" the girl asked, again with almost studied 
casualness. 

"I don't know. I'm only here to-to talk," Julie said. "You see, I've never 
modeled before or been much of anything but a simple housewife." 

"Well, don't worry yourself about the work. It's a cinch. I got used to it 
right away. Les has a reputation for being the best in the business. Okay, 
here we are," the blond announced as the elevator grumbled to a stop. They 
stepped out of the cubicle, turned left and strode down a plushly carpeted 
corridor. Despite her escort's cocky demeanor, Julie grew even more 
optimistic when she felt her feet sinking deep into the luxurious pile of 
the carpet. 

At last they stood in front of a huge door inscribed with Mauley's initials 
and, in tasteful Gothic lettering, the word, "Private." The girl inserted a 
gold key in the door, and they entered. 

Inside, Julie drew a sigh from her throat as the opulent decor of the room 
assailed her senses. Quite obviously it was a waiting room. There were 
impressionistic paintings, a brass rack laden with sophisticated magazines, 
and three sculptures comprised of complicated but provocatively fluid 
armatures and convexities. She wondered what Eric would think of such a show 
of affluence, if he would be awed or annoyed. 

It occurred to her that she was alone, that the blonde had disappeared. Then 
the inner door opened and Lester Mauley materialized as though from another 
world, his brow beaded with sweat, his eyes flashing. 

"Julie, Julie darling, you came! I hope I've not kept you waiting. We've 
been filming, you know, and I'm notoriously forgetful when we're shooting. 
Do forgive me." 

"I've only been here a few minutes," she said shakily. "Your friend helped 
me find my way." Julie's smile was unconvincing. 

"That was Norma, my girl Friday, you might say. She's been a perfect brick 
since she's been on the staff. But let's get down to business. I think it 
most imperative that I be honest with you from the beginning." 

Julie stiffened, her full chest heaving nervously. Mauley's directness 
disturbed her. 

"I can't think of considering you for a position until I'm absolutely sure 
that, you're qualified. If you've no objections I'll put a few pertinent 
questions to you. First off, may I inquire as to your exact age?" 

"I'm thirty, almost thirty-one," she replied with a haughty innocence. "My 
side of the family keeps well-and we're all disgustingly healthy," she 
added, a note of halfhearted apology in her voice. 

"Of course I can see that, my dear, but what are your measurements?" 

"I'm not certain, exactly. Is it really necessary that you know that too?" 
Julie's face flushed a bright crimson, her eyes searching at Mauley's feet 
for respite from his intense gaze. "If it's all that important, my bra size 
is 36-D, most of the time, and I wear a size 10 dress. The rest you can 
probably guess for yourself." 

"I could speculate, yes, but I'm not normally given to chance," Mauley said, 
the trace of a titter qualifying his sincerity. "I'm confident, therefore, 
that you'll comply with my wish to confirm your implied guarantee that your 
figure meets my requirements." 

Julie gasped inwardly at the man's suggestion. Also intimidating was his 
insulting leer and what was an unmistakable lump bucking obscenely in his 
trouser crotch. 

"I can see in your expression that you understand what I expect of you. But 
you needn't feel queasy about undressing here. We'll not be disturbed," he 
assured her, "and there aren't any more interviews scheduled for this 
afternoon." 

Slowly, awkwardly, Julie unzipped her anniversary dress. She was not as much 
terrified by the prospect of her nudity as she was by the smooth and 
calculating anticipation evident in Lester Mauley's handsome anxious face. 

"How far down should I go?" Julie weakly inquired, "thinking all the while 
of the money and how pleased Eric would be with it." 

"How far down are you delicious?" 

Nodding assent, she hesitantly lifted her filmy peach-colored slip up over 
her shoulders. Standing clad in nothing more than her straining bra and 
brief panties, she looked to Mauley for a last-minute reprieve, some signal 
that her humiliation was sufficient to warrant redressing. But there was no 
mercy in his eyes-only an insane, high-voltage glint that frightened her to 
hasten her performance toward its end. Reaching both hands high behind her, 
she unclasped her bra strap and, shying in a half turn away from his 
demanding scan of her superb white torso, wriggled loose from the scanty 
garment. 

"Turn around!" he commanded. "I haven't time to indulge your stupid little 
ego. Let me see your nipples. Ah, ... yes, they're brown and full. 
Excellently balanced too. But hurry, let's see if your thighs are marked. 
Strip!" 

Without hesitation, Julie responded, wheeling to face the unmerciful author 
of her latest debasement. She squirmed frantically out of her underpants, 
almost tripping as she struggled to disentangle them from her ankles. Not 
even Mauley's infamous right hand plunged inside his loosened trousers, 
covering his vulgar prick and balls, stalled her willingness to obey. It was 
similar to the party, she thought: the same unreasonable surging of fire and 
excitement in her body. And he had promised money, too. 

"Indeed, yes, you're perfect! You'll earn a great deal-much more than you 
imagined-working for me," he said, his eyes feasting hungrily on her pearly 
curving hips and the dark brown triangle of pubic hair between her thighs. 
His hand slithered lasciviously over his throbbing, now partially exposed 
rod, a gleaming nodule of semen welling at the tip. 

"What shall I do now?" Julie asked, her question a frail whisper. 

Mauley edged wordlessly forward on his chair, motioning Julie closer with 
his free hand. He then opened his fly all the way. She could see his 
sperm-bloated balls nestling like fat bells below his erect penis. Moving 
toward him a few steps, she was remotely astonished by what she was doing, 
but at the same time acutely conscious of how her own action aroused her. 

"Now, Julie dear, comes the real test. Many girls, the silly ones, flunk out 
at this point." His breathing was dense with lust, his facial features 
transfigured as he inhaled her sweet, clean musk. 

"Closer, dammit, come closer!" 

As she moved a step forward, her belly inches from his aristocratic chin, 
she thought of Eric and their barren years together, of their hardships and 
blind forages into sexual play. What would he think of her disgrace-that she 
was worse, a worse fiasco as a wife, than he now thought? 

"Sit down, there, on the couch," Mauley wheezed, crossing to the couch 
himself. Suddenly he snaked out his hand and seized her wrist, pulling her 
down forcefully beside him. Then, without warning, he half-rose and knelt on 
the floor between her firm thighs, staring at her soft curling pubic mound 
and the slightly wet lips of her tight cunt. His experienced hands moved 
under her buttocks, digging into her flesh so fiercely that she whined from 
the pain. 

Just as she shut her eyes, Julie caught a last glimpse of his satanic face 
easing down toward her sensitive vaginal slit, and the realization of what 
he was about to do made her recoil with a momentary repugnance. 

"No ... oh, please, don't, don't do that!" she sobbed; but Mauley's grip was 
powerful and unrelenting. "Please, no one has ever done that ... not even my 
husband ... Don't! It's making me sick!" 

But her cries merely goaded him on. His long tongue flicked like a lizard's 
at her cringing vulvae, purposefully teasing her to increasing 
responsiveness. Julie opened her eyes and watched with horror as he placed 
his thumbs on her naked cuntal lips and drew apart the downy fluff framing 
her sex. She groaned with the thrill of his first probing inside her vagina. 
Her body automatically arched upwards, her stomach churning with wave after 
wave of sensuality. "Ohhh, please ... please stop! I can't bear it-it's 
making me ... I'm-Jesus! go on, eat me, eat me up, you bastard! Use it-suck 
my guts out!" 

Crazed by her bleating, his victory, he plunged his tongue further and 
further into her now squirming cunt, absorbing the flow of her cuntal juices 
with a relish uncommon even to him. He buried his face deeper between her 
thighs, sucking and slurping, and began to spread the full rounded cheeks of 
her buttocks with the rude ends of his fingers. 

"No, God-no!" Julie wailed. "Not there too." But Lester Mauley continued to 
abuse her, running a presumptive finger around the contracting circle of her 
anus. He pushed slowly into the tight rubbery chamber with the middle finger 
of his right hand-one knuckle, then two grinding into her. Rising from her 
raw, slippery vaginal slit, he confronted her face to face with his 
glistening lips and grinned inhumanly as he withdrew his finger from her 
rectum. 

"Don't stop!" Julie begged. "For God's sake, have mercy. You've got 
me-crazy!" 

Sensing his complete mastery of her, he wormed three fingers in her pussy 
and rolled them from wall to wall, lubricating them with her flowing juices. 
She jacked her legs back even with her breasts as he wormed two slick 
fingers back into her rectal cavity and renewed his vile assault of her 
wide-open cunt. 

"Bite me!" she screamed. "Bite my thing!" 

"What thing? Say it, you whore!" 

"My-my hole ... bite my hole there! I'm ready, yes! Go faster with your 
mouth ... I don't care-not now, not now! Please finish me, please!" 

His clammy paws ran roughshod over her waist and trembling breasts, 
occasionally dancing down below her puckering navel to where his searing 
reptile tongue tasted and savored the dual orifices between her widespread 
legs. 

"I'm ready-I'm starting!" Julie shouted, filling the soundproof room with 
her gasping passion. "I'm cummmming! Ooohhh, yes!" she exploded, jerking and 
pushing against her new employer's fingers and mouth, the beautiful rush of 
fiery, spastic relief coursing every nook and crevice of her exquisite 
shape. "Are you-are you cumming?" 

At last she fell back against the black leather couch, her pale arms and 
shoulders drooping submissively, uncaring that her vaginal mouth was bare 
and gaping, her secrets revealed. Nothing was left to her now. Mauley's 
accusing glare did not phase her; it was what she had expected. 

His voice came from far away. "You mustn't look upon yourself as a failure. 
I'm certain you don't realize my condition, or even that men are sometimes 
unequal to women like you, but I want you to understand that my-call it 
judgment-my estimation of a woman has nothing to do with my participation 
with her in an artistic event between the sexes. I'm saying that you're 
dazzlingly desirable and more than qualified to take a key position in my 
studio. Most important, Julie, is your responsibility to the masses, their 
education concerning matters of sex and economic enlightenment." 

"I think I finally know what you're talking about," Julie replied in and 
undertone as she gathered her clothes. "You're using your influence and 
money to force this generation out of comfortable lethargy. I mean ... your 
own sexual gratification isn't really the issue, is it? You're more 
interested in people, in helping them to understand ... to be together...." 
Her voice trailed off, uncertainty running through her mind as she pictured 
him kneeling between her legs, his tongue inside her, his fingers insulting 
her. And he had called her a whore-a whore! Well, maybe I am, she thought, 
closing her eyes to blot out the indignity of the idea. It was horrible 
enough to have been so weak and to have allowed her body to surrender to his 
indecent acts, but to discuss it this way afterwards, actually trying to 
justify it as art, her "responsibility to the masses...." Then she 
remembered what he had said at the Creighton's party, that working for him 
would be "a ... contribution to a select segment" of society. How was it 
possible to do both, to be responsible to everyone and yet contribute to 
only a few...? 

"I know what you must be thinking," Mauley said calmly and almost tenderly. 
"You're wondering how our involvement this afternoon relates to your work 
with me. Trust me when I say it does, and vitally. I must be wholly 
confident that anyone I'm considering for a position be equipped, 
emotionally as well as physically, to handle the work. After all, others are 
involved, and I've also got to guard my investments against incompetency." 

Julie listened as she straightened her stockings. His mention of 
incompetency filled her with fear, seemed threatening even though he had 
told her only moments before that she was eminently qualified to model in 
his studio. Why, why was she so afraid of failure, of disappointing her 
husband, Mauley, everyone? 

"And now, my precious," Mauley said cheerily, "I think it's the right moment 
to toast our new agreement." Buckling up his trousers, he crossed the room 
to one of the sculptures, an abstract, somehow human figure, and pressed 
something behind it. The door opened at once, and Norma, the slightly little 
blond, whisked into the room carrying two brandy tumblers, partly filled, 
and a small sealed envelope. 

"I hope everything worked out," she said to Julie. Then, turning to Mauley, 
she spoke with urgency, a hint of impatience: "If you're finished here, the 
others are waiting for you. That damned cowboy's raising hell in there. Oh 
yes, here," she said, presenting Julie with the envelope. "You'll need 
this." 

"Yes, read the contents carefully, and try not to be late. We'll see you, 
then," Mauley said as he leaned to kiss Julie's hand for a lingering moment. 
His fly was still undone. 

* * * 

Outside, the air was warmer, the sun shining and clean as Julie walked to 
the bus stop. Once there, she permitted her curiosity to get the best of 
her. She slit one end of the envelope with a fingernail, and read: 

COME TO THE STUDIO AT ONE O'CLOCK TOMORROW. WEAR A SIMPLE HOUSE-DRESS AND 
BLACK LINGERIE. I'M HAPPY TO HAVE YOU WITH US.-LES. Attached to the note 
were three crisp hundred-dollar bills, approximately half again as much as 
Eric's weekly take-home pay. 

It was two-thirty according to the clock on the church across the street. 
She had been in Mauley's richly-appointed waiting room just over an hour, 
and they had not even bothered to drink the proposed toast. "Yes, maybe I am 
nothing but a whore at heart," Julie mused, the first glimmer of a smile on 
her face as she stepped down from the curb to hail the approaching bus. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Julie heard a knock at the front door. She thought at first it was Terry 
visiting earlier than usual, then remembered that Terry always rang or just 
burst in, unannounced. Putting aside her coffee, she descended to the porch 
landing and opened the door. It was Dolores, the single girl who lived 
across the street in a smaller version of all the houses in the 
neighborhood. 

"Hi, Julie," Dolores puffed. "Excuse me-I'm out of breath. I've been making 
the rounds this morning, and I swear, I'm going to take Terry's advice and 
start dieting. She says most people are short-winded because they're too 
heavy, and I guess she's right in my case." 

The only thing too heavy about you is your chest, Julie thought to herself, 
looking at the young redhead's enormous bosom. Eric had said that Jake and 
all the other men in the neighborhood constantly joked about Dolores' 
massive breasts, imagining themselves kneading them with their bare feet. 
And other things, even more graphic. Julie suspected that it was not only 
Dolores' ample anatomy that provoked men. It was doubtless the redhead's 
unyielding, nearly fanatic sense of morality, her saintly attitude, that 
made her a target for ridicule. 

"Uh-Terry tells me you've got a job now," Dolores said, seating herself 
opposite Julie at the kitchen table. "It's none of my business-and you can 
tell me so-but aren't you making a big mistake working for a man like that?" 

"What man?" Julie asked. "What did Terry tell you?" 

"Nothing really, except that you're supposed to be posing for someone named 
Mauley-in the nude! And she said Eric doesn't know, not even Eric. You'd 
better listen to me and give up the whole rotten business. Mark me, it'll 
only cause trouble and make you ashamed to face everyone. I don't know how 
you even considered such a thing!" 

"You don't know what you're talking about," Julie bluffed. "You're making 
something out of nothing. So please, keep your opinions to yourself ... It 
so happens I'm working with Mr. Mauley in a purely creative capacity, on an 
education project, and Eric doesn't know because I want to surprise him with 
the money I'll earn." 

"Well, I'm sorry. Terry brought it up, and I ... it sounded, you know-" 

"Yes, I know. It sounded like something exciting, therefore dirty and 
criminal to your way of thinking. Are you jealous, Dolores? Are you jealous 
that now I'm doing worthwhile work, something more than just joining church 
groups and talking about helping people, the way you do? Are you planning to 
spoil my plan, telling Eric? Are you, you-" 

"Julie!" 

Julie was shocked but pleased by her own outburst, the daring with which she 
lied to the self-righteous little bitch. But she was relieved that she had 
not called Dolores the name she had meant to. The poor girl was shaken 
enough. 

"I shouldn't have spoken that way," Julie said comfortingly. "I'm tense, 
that's all. The new job is strenuous, and of course you can appreciate that 
I'm eager to make a go of it and help Eric relax about money, or security." 
She was further amazed when her words assuaged Dolores with the same 
effectiveness that Mauley's had had after yesterday's crisis on the waiting 
room couch. 

"Oh yes, I know," Dolores enthused. "I'm truly proud of you, that you're so 
dedicated to Eric and to the brand new job." 

"Thanks ... But now, if you'll forgive me, I've got to clean house and get 
ready for this afternoon. Drop by in a day or two, if you've time, and I'll 
let you in on my progress." 

When Dolores had gone, Julie went downstairs to the basement closet where 
she had stored an unworn cotton frock-one she knew complimented her 
voluptuous contours and yet was simple enough to be classified as a 
housedress. Her single pair of black panties was already laid out on the 
bed, and one of Terry's black bras would probably fit. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

Julie felt herself, despite the strongest doubts, falling more and more in 
line with Mauley's way of thinking. She had had a difficult time that 
morning, fighting hesitancy, fears of a disastrous mistake. But she had 
dressed according to the instructions in the envelope, and now, fifteen 
minutes early, she sat in the waiting room watching the door to the interior 
of the apartment. Eric had called at noon, as usual, and nothing had been 
different in his tone. She had almost hoped he would be tender or in some 
respect aware of her tenseness. She had wanted him to awaken in her a 
crippling sense of danger, to strengthen her mistrust of the charming man 
who was at this very minute just beyond the door, preparing for her 
entrance; but now danger was dulled, beyond her, in Mauley's hands. 

She ran her fingers along the doe-soft leather of the black couch, thinking 
again of yesterday, how she had been responsive to the sensual invasions, 
the perverted use of her helpless body. 

"Norma said you had arrived," Mauley said as he entered the room and seated 
himself beside her. He was wearing an exaggerated yet somehow appropriate 
toreador suit, black, beautifully tailored, an extension of the room itself. 
"How do you feel today?" 

"All right, I suppose. But about the money, I-" 

"You what? Listen," Mauley said, chuckling, "you earned every cent of it. 
Anyway, we haven't time to haggle over a few dollars-or perhaps you've 
changed your mind?" 

"No, I don't think so, but there's talk around the neighborhood. Terry-" 

"Nonsense! Mrs. Creighton is quite discreet. I expect she'll join us too, 
one of these days. Not for the money, mind you, but because she's 
open-minded and wants to help. You're special, though, and have so much more 
to offer people." 

Julie's misgivings melted, a glow of pride and self-assurance replacing 
them. No one had ever said she was superior to Terry. She felt a kind of 
smugness rising in her. 

"Now, let's forget about your neighbors and talk about the work at hand. 
First off, I can't impress upon you enough how important authenticity is in 
our work. You'll be meeting people inside who know exactly what I want, must 
have, and they'll help you understand your function. And Norma will help, so 
listen to her. Often, when I'm busy with technical matters, she'll relay my 
directions to you-and to whomever else you're working with. Let's go in now. 
I want to introduce you to someone." 

Julie followed him through the door, into a room that was surprisingly like 
any one of a number of studio apartments she had seen in the low-medium rent 
district during college days. A couch, a bed, a table, a few chairs-all very 
ordinary. And there was a man, not much taller than Mauley, seated on the 
edge of the bed. He was dark, seemed Latin, and his face was cratered with 
pock-marks. 

"Julie, this is Frank. I want you two to get acquainted, talk, get the feel 
of each other. You'll be working together this afternoon. I'll be with you 
later." She noticed a strange, distracted quality in Mauley's voice, as 
though he were trembling and excited. 

As he left the room, he cast a secretive glance toward the man on the bed, 
signifying something outside Julie's comprehension. 

"Sit over here," Frank said, motioning to a spot beside him, his eyes 
quickly taking in Julie's voluptuous curves as she moved slowly to the spot 
he had indicated. "That's a pretty dress, you know. Not every woman can fill 
out a cheap dress." 

"He-Les-told me to wear this. It's part of the-it's what he...." she 
bumbled, ashamed of herself and sorry she had not bought something more 
attractive to wear. 

"No-no, don't worry. I know you have better clothes. It's your body, all 
that underneath, that you should be proud of." 

Julie turned to look at him as he patted her soft shoulder with a gentleness 
and ease natural to one accustomed to doling out sympathy. Then, taking her 
off guard, he tightened his grip on her shoulder and pulled her close to 
him, panting a hot firm kiss on her lips. "No, relax," he breathed in her 
ear as she struggled to free herself from his arms. "You take everything 
wrong. Les warned me that you would be afraid, silly." She squirmed back a 
little, aware that a prickle of pleasure was traveling through her thighs. 
She hoped he could not feel the goose pimples rising like tiny welts where 
his fingers played lightly at the nape of her neck. His other hand began to 
creep along her stomach, sawing back and forth and steadily higher toward 
her breasts. When his thumb brushed the underside of her right breast, she 
whimpered, an electric shock rippling down her spine and finally coming to 
rest with searing heat between her thighs. He pulled her close again, this 
time kissing her ear, his tongue wetly rummaging inside it. 

"Please, oh ... You mustn't. Les will be back soon," she said huskily. 

"I know, baby, I know," the stranger panted, his hand moving up to fully cup 
Julie's straining breast. She sighed again and concentrated all her will on 
thoughts of Eric, her home, the future. But to no avail. Her pelvis began to 
push and withdraw with a rhythmic rocking motion, betraying her, making her 
protestations as useless and hypocritical as though she were preaching 
chastity in the nude. Then he slipped his hand deftly inside her bodice onto 
the swell of flesh above the black bra. His other hand slipped down her arm 
and moved under the hem of her skirt to explore and palm the dampness of her 
inner thigh. 

Suddenly he drew away from her and spoke coldly, with business-like 
evenness. "Undress, baby, right now. He'll be back in a minute, and we've 
got to be ready." 

"I don't understand," Julie blurted. But he seemed not to hear her and rose, 
taking off his shirt and crossing to the table. She saw that his linen 
trousers reared at the crotch and were wet at the pinnacle of his 
protrusion. 

"Come on, dammit, get out of that dress!" he yelled, startling her to her 
feet. When she failed to move, he marched over to her and, with one downward 
tug, unzipped her dress down the back. He stooped, then, and seized her 
skirts with both hands, pulling them over her head. 

"Keep your stockings on-and your undies. I'll take them off when it's time." 

Mauley entered just as Frank tossed Julie's dress to the floor. Norma 
appeared next, the cowboy-poet hard behind her. Frowning, he clutched a 
rumpled brown Stetson in one hand and a freshly-opened bottle of bourbon in 
the other. 

"Well, I'll be damned if it isn't sweet little Miss Neighbor," the cowboy 
boomed, ogling Julie's delicious, nearly-nude body. "And here she is with 
Mr. Spic, in what seems to me an outrageously compromising position. Holy 
Christ! what we won't do for a few lousy bucks!" 

"Shut up!" Mauley said curtly, menace in his voice. "You'll have your chance 
to shoot off, if you're not too incapacitated when your turn comes." 

Julie forgot her nudity for a moment and stared back at the half-drunk 
cowboy, remembering him on Terry's den couch, the two lusty girls sucking 
and drinking his sex. He had chosen her, out of all the women present, to 
speak to after he had spent himself in that girl's mouth, and now, having 
dismissed Mauley's remark, he pored over ever facet of her scantily-clad 
limbs. 

"Aha! I see that you like our newcomer," Mauley chortled. "Believe me, 
you'll have a real understanding of Julie after Frank performs in his 
inimitable way." 

"The cameras are ready, Mr. Mauley, whenever you are," Norma said, the same 
tinge of impatience in her voice and manner. At that, Julie's eyes darted to 
Mauley for reassurance, but he was standing by the door, issuing imperious 
orders to the men wheeling in the two portable movie cameras. As they 
positioned the equipment in front of Frank and Julie, who were still 
standing by the bed, Mauley noticed the housedress in a heap on the floor. 

"Here, Julie," Mauley said, bending down to retrieve the garment, "put it on 
again. The title of this film is Infidelity, and I want you to look like a 
housewife. And Julie, pay no attention to the cameras, nor to any of us. 
Frank knows what to do; just let your body respond to him." 

Julie was vaguely aware of a delicate whirring from the cameras as Frank 
snaked his arm around her waist and gently forced her down to sit with him 
on the edge of the bed. A last dim thought of trying to tear herself away 
from him, and out of the room, flickered in her mind, but dwindled to a 
spark, and finally out, when the rough-complexioned man swayed closer and 
placed a series of light kisses on her slender throat. His hands roamed 
expertly, still lightly, over her breasts and up and down her spine. Sweet 
chills fluttered involuntarily in her stomach when he pressed his wet lips 
on hers, his tongue plunging deep in her mouth. She felt a sudden rush of 
cool air on her back as he unzipped her dress down to the cleavage between 
her buttocks. He stood, then, drawing her up with him, and coolly pulled her 
dress over her head for the second time that afternoon. She felt his hand 
behind her back again, unsnapping the hooks of her brassiere, and next the 
thrilling weight of her breasts falling full and free from support. She 
gasped as he removed it from her shoulders and heard him utter a moan of 
appreciation when the magnificent melons came into view. He sat on the bed 
and, hooking two fingers in the elastic waist band of her black nylon 
panties, pulled her last vestige of modesty down over the stark white 
symmetry of her buttocks. Taking her solidly by the hips, he turned her 
torso to face him, her soft, resilient pubic hair only inches from his lips. 
Julie was horrified, and winced, when she heard movement behind her and 
looked over her shoulder to see the cameras gliding like the eyes of prying 
monsters to either side of her. 

She jumped when Frank's tongue darted forward like a lizard and touched the 
dewy outer petals of her vagina. His hands were on her backside, pressuring 
her forward, his fingers digging relentlessly into the spongy vellum of her 
flesh. She was losing her balance, falling forward against his ugly face, 
against his marauding tongue now swirling lewdly in and out of her tortured 
pussy. At last she lost her footing completely and fell with him on the firm 
surface of the bed. He quickly grabbed her ankles and one shoulder, half 
flipping her on her back beside him, and then with both hands cupped at her 
up-thrust breasts, squeezing them cruelly until the nipples stretched and 
spread like peaches on the verge of bursting. She lay frozen to the 
mattress, her humiliation complete, as he wormed out of his trousers and 
returned to the ravishment of her body in one or two fluid movements. 

Again, he attacked her aching breasts, closing his mouth over them one at a 
time, sucking and biting the pink tips to hard rubbery erection. Julie felt 
his stiff rod burning poker-hot into her thigh. Despite her revulsion and 
the waves of disbelief that this was actually happening to her, little pangs 
of raw pleasure began to nibble at her nerve-ends, peaking in her nipples 
and budding into full flower in her throbbing clitoris. His breath 
thickening, Frank brought his left hand down and worked his middle finger 
into Julie's nakedly contracting cunt. 

"Oh, ooooh! My God, noooooo!" she cried even as she involuntary ground her 
hips higher against the greedy, invading finger. Her legs splayed wider 
apart, exposing her moist quivering cunt to the leering lenses of the 
cameras moving in for close-up shots of the spectacle. 

"Now! Fuck her good!" came Mauley's shrill voice from somewhere in the room. 

Frank rose on the bed to his knees and began to stroke the taut 
uncircumcised foreskin of his brazen shaft. 

"What do you think of that?" he grinned, waving the hardened rod of flesh' 
before her unbelieving eyes. She tried to speak, to tell him to stop, but he 
continued to display himself as she watched with tears filling her eyes. His 
body eased up to her, and he lifted and bullied her legs high and back over 
her writhing shoulders until she was bent almost double. She jerked and 
fought in one last desperate struggle, her head flailing from side to side, 
as he introduced the blood-swollen prick into the slightly parted lips of 
her tight, defenseless cunt. She held her breath as the long, hard thing 
penetrated the tender walls of the passage, flexing and growing with each 
measured stroke. Each thrust drove him deeper and flattened her knees 
painfully into her chest. Then he humped faster and faster, deeper and 
deeper, his pistoning cock disappearing up to the hilt as his sperm-bloated 
testicles slapped hard down against her tiny puckered anus. She had lost her 
will now, and she knew that, in spite of her humiliation and disgust, she 
was totally subjugated by this unknown man pumping wildly into her. She 
reached up to encircle his back with her arms, grinding her lust-drenched 
vaginal crevice harder to him as his ardor maddened him on to ferocious 
speed and savagery. She no longer knew fear-only the glorious sensation of 
lying beneath this man who was fucking her against her will, and giving back 
to him as much as he was giving her. 

His hands clamored frantically under her buttocks, cupping each cheek and 
raising her pelvis for easier access to her depths. 

He toiled above her, feeding her longer, smoother strokes that drew his cock 
out of her to its blunt, hardened head, then banging back into her, punished 
her cervix anew. She was oblivious to the approach of one camera to a 
position less than a foot from the edge of the bed. Mauley gestured 
maniacally and pointed to the thin, glistening lips of Julie's tight, 
hair-lined cunt wrapped obscenely around the hammering penis. Without 
looking behind him, he wiggled his fingers to invite the waiting cowboy to 
join the fun. 

"Okay, you bastard, do your stuff," Mauley whispered tremulously in the 
cowboy's ear. Without a word, the gangling cowboy plucked off his hat-the 
last of his clothing except for his boots-and lay down beside Julie, his 
loins aligned with her head. He glanced up at Frank, smiled, and grasped 
Julie's head with both his hands, arching his hips toward her face. 

"Go ahead, fuck her face!" Mauley screamed. 

Responding, the lank cowboy hunched his muscular back and guided his giant, 
half-hard cock to Julie's lips. She convulsed, unable to fathom the threat 
of the slowly-lengthening penis pressing against her teeth. It was too much 
to focus on at once-one cock gurgling and ramming in and out of her belly, 
another one, much larger, trying to push into her mouth. But, oh! what a 
heavenly nightmare. 

"I'm almost there, I'm almost-" Frank hissed as he abruptly halted his 
motion and searched Mauley's face for directions. 

"Switch-switch, then, for God's sake, and hurry!" Mauley said. 

Then, scrambling for new vantage-points on Julie's body, the two men traded 
places and resumed their violations of the sumptuous openings of the girl at 
their disposal. Frank's cock found her mouth and mashed inward between her 
lips without hesitation. The rapidly-sobering cowboy ran his mammoth prick 
into her hungrily clasping cunt. 

They fucked into her for a minute and, his eyes rolling back, Frank hoisted 
Julie's head and rocketed a hot, searing stream of pungent, white cum in her 
mouth. Gagging, she swallowed but was unable to keep from losing some of the 
gushing liquid at the corners of her mouth. Still, the cowboy with his boots 
tucked between the springs and frame of the bed, dug his huge driving muscle 
into the flat plane of her wildly pulsating pussy, stretching and abusing 
the elastic, marble-like walls with a vengeance. 

"Fuck me-fuck me harder! I'm starting ... Oh God, I'm cummmmuiming, 
cummmmming!" Julie shrieked, her full white buttocks swirling up and almost 
disrupting the boring rhythm of the cowboy's gyrating lunges. 

"Give it hell, baby!" the cowboy puffed down into her lust-contorted face, 
renewing his assault and plowing his huge bulging prick into her with even 
greater fervor and abandon. Julie writhed ecstatically under him, her 
tremendous passion at its crest, her lips parting as she moaned and kicked 
madly with her heels digging wildly at the man's driving buttocks, spurring 
him on. 

"Jesus! here I come, bitch!-here's my load!" His lean flanks began to jerk 
uncontrollably as his organ expanded with the first rushes of cumming, the 
viscous liquid spurting deep inside her, filling her starved cavity and 
squirting out at the base of his cock with every new thrust. She could feel 
it, warm and sticky, running mercury-like down into the crevice of her ass 
and onto the sweat-soaked bed. Gradually the cowboy's motions slowed to a 
halt-and then, delivering one last spastic stroke, he collapsed uselessly on 
her flushed body. After a moment, he lifted himself from between her still 
wide-split legs and withdrew his steadily-deflating member from her vagina 
with a lewd popping sound. 

Julie lay immobile, limp, watching the exhausted performer roll over on his 
back beside the equally drained Frank. She was paralyzed by shame and could 
not yet encompass the entire meaning of what had happened. This morning she 
had been a loyal and innocent wife to Eric, and now she lay here with the 
foul sperm of two utter strangers still running out of her. Yet-something, a 
lingering thrill, still hummed excitingly in her nipples, in her flared 
cuntal passage. If someone, anyone, wanted her now ... she would not resist 
or even care much. Nothing mattered now. Not anymore. 

As though reading her thoughts, Mauley approached her, holding his hardened 
cock as he hurriedly greased its pulsing length with a clear jelly-ish 
lubricant. 

"All right, you two," he gesticulated to-Frank and the cowboy, "off the 
bed!" When the two men had moved away and gone to the back of the room, 
Mauley looked at Julie with a devilish glint in his eyes. "I presume you're 
ready for the finale, my dear? Or would you rather go home only 
half-satisfied?" 

"What are you going to do?" she replied blandly but with faint interest. 

"You'll see," he answered, helping her to her knees. "I'm going to fuck you 
... just that." 

Nothing could be more debasing than what had already happened, Julie 
decided, and allowed herself to be positioned for his use. She obeyed his 
sharp commands to turn away from him and kneel like an animal on her hands 
and knees, her ivory buttocks presented to him like a sacrificial offering. 
She cringed and rocked forward on her hands when Mauley's finger came into 
contact with the tightly-puckered lips of her anus, ambitiously massaging 
and tracing its velvety rim. 

"Not there-not there too," she suddenly wailed as she became aware of his 
intent, but her convulsive sobs only excited his depraved mind to more 
deliberate action. Clinging fiendishly to one cheek of her ass, he placed 
the tip of his cock at her tight, cringing anus and pushed the oozing end of 
it an inch into her, crushing and drawing the soft outer skin in with him. 
Then, a slight snap, and he was in! a third of his huge, hardened penis was 
sunk in her ass! Her pain-racked torso pitched forward, away from him, but 
he followed her like a human dog after a bitch in heat, his knees shuffling 
onto the bed with her, his hands grinding and milking her breasts 
sadistically. Now he was almost buried in her, and she felt her clitoris 
tingle as his balls swing closer and closer to it with each lunge. She was 
actually liking it! 

"How's that, slut! You like being fucked in your ass-hole, eh!? " 

"It's good-it's...." 

"Tell me, what am I doing-what do you want!? " 

"You're fucking me-in-in my ass-hole! ... And Oh God, please don't stop, 
ever!" she heard herself beg piteously. "Fuck me faster, faster ... oooooh, 
faster!" 

Mauley's face contorted as she pleaded for him to go on. He lambasted her 
rectum like a maddened beast, his tempo increasing with her cries, until 
they were at the edge of the far side of the bed. His moment was building, 
coming on with a force and drama that made him drool and lose strings of 
spittle on the small of her back. Her own forces were mounting again, and 
she ground salaciously back on the man's thighs to enjoy the full benefit of 
the hardened pole of male flesh mauling her within. 

Then, without warning, his desire spilled into her and brought on her own 
cumming. They convulsed and fell over like helpless insects in the throes of 
death. 

Seconds later, Mauley disengaged himself from his depleted partner and gazed 
glassy-eyed at the cameramen. "You got that, all of it, didn't you?" His 
question came in short gulps, a query intelligible perhaps only to his 
long-experienced technicians-and to Norma, who was scribbling notes on a 
piece of crinkly parchment. Mauley rose, then, and strode arrogantly to the 
couch. 

"You know," he said, "I'm thoroughly convinced that we should make this into 
a sequence ... Say, a series of films depicting the American housewife's 
return to nature. With Julie's assets, there's no telling what might 
develop-a veritable, tour, maybe, of sexual and social enlightenment." With 
this last remark, he turned to Julie who was still sprawled on the bed, the 
wetness of their sperm matting her pubic hair and pooling beneath her. "What 
do you think, love?" 

Her silence provoked a wry smile on Mauley's face. 

"By the way, Mrs. Jeffers," Norma said, tossing her blonde hair as she went 
over to Julie, "here's your envelope for today. The instructions for 
tomorrow are enclosed." Then, her nose bunching up into an impish grin, she 
added, "You do have a leopard skin, don't you? Well, if you don't, I'm sure 
you'll be able to afford one with what's in today's envelope." 

Julie rose quietly and dressed, avoiding the others' faces as she swiped 
here and there on her body with the towel that Frank had handed her a few 
moments before. She was astonished that they could be so casual and 
indifferent so soon after the humiliating orgy that had ended only five 
minutes ago. No one had even asked how she was; whether she was alive or 
anything. But what difference would it make, she wondered, wriggling her 
foot into her shoe; what could possibly change things? She knew that she 
should be filled with repugnance and loathing, but she was not, and this 
alarmed her more than anything ... Then her attention turned to Mauley, who 
was busily assisting the cameramen as they fussed and tinkered with the 
expensive equipment. Even if he were not her employer, and had not submitted 
her to such vile treatment, she knew he was not the kind of man she would 
consider her friend. She made that very clear to herself, for among his 
shortcomings of character there was something about him, evasive, hidden. 
His aspirations, she sensed, were somehow apart from the self he presented 
normally. 

"Julie, dear, we'll see you tomorrow. You'll be certain to follow 
directions, won't you." 

"I ... yes, Mr. Mauley...." 

"And you'll bring the leopard skin, won't you, Julie?" Norma added 
tauntingly. "I'll ... try." 

* * * 

When Julie arrived at the bus stop, she noted that the church clock read 
almost three. She had only fifteen minutes to get home if she were going to 
prepare the roast in time for Eric's dinner. For some reason, he had 
insisted, during his noon call from the lab, that they indulge themselves 
and have a really luxurious dinner that night. It was unlike him to 
encourage extravagance, the cost for no particular reason ... Suddenly 
realization flooded her: Of course, today was their anniversary! Why else? 
And today, of all days, when she had committed her first infidelity, had 
soiled their marriage by allowing herself to be violated by three strange 
men! If only-if somehow by magic she could wake up and discover that it had 
been all a dream ... If she could make up to him.... 

Then she remembered the envelope and tore it open. 

Five-hundred dollars! The note was brief and specific, as before: 
CONGRATULATIONS, MY DEAR. YOU WERE WONDERFUL-FAR BETTER THAN EVEN I 
EXPECTED. TOMORROW, I SHOULD LIKE TO INTRODUCE YOU TO SOMETHING MORE 
ADVANCED (WITH A BONUS, OF COURSE). PLEASE SECURE A ONE-PIECE LEOPARD SKIN 
TOG TO BRING WITH YOU.-LES. 

Five-hundred dollars! Cash! Enough for months and months of house payments 
new carpeting, the home workshop Eric dreamed of-practically anything! And 
there was still yesterday's money, which was safely stashed away in her 
lingerie drawer. A fortune! 

Despite the thought that she might miss her bus, she hustled across the 
intersection toward a small shop with a sign that advertised "Fine Imported 
Wines and Liquors." Perhaps not even Eric would notice that the dinner wine 
was not the same ghastly stuff they occasionally allowed themselves, on 
holidays or when he wanted to display his generosity. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

"Dinner was nice, Julie, but I'm sorry you weren't quite up to par on your 
salad. In fact," Eric said mockingly, wagging his head from side to side, 
"I'd say the lettuce would hardly inspire a rabbit-not even on his 
anniversary." 

Julie declined to answer, relief coursing through her. He had not detected 
the difference in the wine, nor in her. All evening she had been afraid that 
he would see in her some miraculous transformation, some telltale sign of 
her betrayal. But he had been his usual grudging self, dwelling instead on 
his anniversary gift to her, and inexpensive necklace of jade ... And more 
than once he had scolded her for daring to squander what must have been "at 
least a day's pay" on the dress shirts she had given him. 

As she washed the decanter into which she had poured the wine, to disguise 
its excellence, she calculated her strategy for the ordeal to come. Always 
he had chosen anniversary nights to enact the sex farce that had embarrassed 
them for years. There was little chance that tonight would be an exception. 

"What do you say we turn in?" Eric said with nonchalance. "I guess you're 
pretty anxious to celebrate our anniversary ... as always." 

"Yes, I'm very tired," Julie lied. "I'd like to store up a bit of extra 
sleep tonight. Terry's asked for another fitting tomorrow, in the afternoon, 
and the excitement this evening has me off-balance." 

"Off what!? On our anniversary!? Goddammit!" he blared, his face reddening, 
"I just don't know what to make of you. You've been behaving like a giddy 
school girl ever since that damned party!" His furor increasing, he stormed 
off toward the hall bathroom, detouring at the landing at the top of the 
stairs to snatch up the box with Julie's necklace in it. "There!" he 
screamed, slamming the box against the wall, "there's your present! Pick it 
up!" 

* * * 

Bougainvillea poured down the hillside behind the house, and the 
hummingbirds were spinning. Julie felt ill with all the whirling, the colors 
and fragrances ready to topple on her. She had come out early to sit on 
their one weather-worn lawn chair to feed the birds, and think. Last night 
had been awful, worse in many ways than the experience at Mauley's studio 
the day before, and Eric's anger had converted the satisfaction and joy she 
had felt into a sordid recollection of her encounter with the others-Frank, 
the cowboy, the lewd bestial act by Mauley, and Mauley himself. And Norma, 
always so knowing and insultingly smug, as though she had lived several 
lifetimes of degradation, and survived. Would she become a Norma, so jaded 
and "enlightened" about sex and exhibitionism that she would one day jot 
down notes about it with the same efficiency? God, no! she resolved with an 
inward sweep of conclusive triumph. She would learn, earn, and get out, be 
herself again.... 

"Julie, honey, are you crying?" Startled, Julie whipped her head around and 
watched Terry's form sharpen through the tears. "You silly, what's the 
matter?" 

"Nothing, nothing at all! Haven't you ever been happy enough to laugh this 
way? And besides, what do you know about girls like me? It's only-oh damn!" 
Julie broke down completely, her body convulsing with sobs. 

"Honey, come on now, let's talk about it," Terry said softly, seating 
herself to cradle Julie in her arms. "Has that dopey husband of yours been 
beating you down again?" 

"Oh Terry, it's not just that. I feel so guilty, so-dirty! I can't make 
myself believe that what I'm doing for Les is worth the money." 

"So that's it," Terry said, brightening. "Listen, you ninny, haven't I told 
you I'd do the same thing myself, and enjoy doing it, if I were in your 
shoes? ... All right, look at it this way. You want to save your marriage, 
don't you? You want to help Eric. Well, it's a cinch that he's not going to 
admit his own fault as far as your sex life is concerned. And it'll take 
years for him to earn enough to be satisfied-if he ever can be. So you've 
got to take the initiative, just as you've done." 

"But he'd hate me if he knew," Julie objected. 

"If I didn't know better, I'd say he hates you now. To tell you the truth, 
though, I'd be willing to bet that he'd respect you a damned sight more than 
he does now-after the fireworks, of course-if he did know. So take it easy. 
You're doing the right thing." 

"I wish I could really believe that, Terry. At least I feel better, though. 
Thanks." 

"Don't mention it. Just fill me in on what happened yesterday at the studio 
... and don't leave out anything!" 

"I'd rather not," Julie demurred, "and besides, I've got to get ready. I'm 
leaving early to do some shopping on the way." 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Julie arrived at the studio fifteen minutes late. It had been exasperatingly 
difficult to find a leopard skin outfit her size-and mortally embarrassing 
to ask salesclerks to help her. In desperation, she had finally purchased a 
tiger-skin bathing suit that was more revealing than even her most daring 
underwear. 

When she followed Mauley into the apartment, she was astonished to find that 
it had been radically changed. It was no longer the modest setting she had 
seen the previous day. There was a plethora of tropical plants, vines 
trailing down the walls, rocks, and a kind of synthetic mossy grass covering 
the floor. There was a plastic-surfaced imitation of a pool where the bed 
had been yesterday. In all, the room resembled a jungle glen out of a 
fairytale world. 

"Are you impressed?" Mauley asked. 

"Yes, but what does it mean?" Julie frowned. 

"It's today's theme, the setting for your return to nature from frustrating 
domesticity. You'll see ... But have you the garment I asked you to bring?" 

Julie showed him the tiger suit and obeyed his directions to step behind a 
clump of ferns to change. 

"You'll be assisted by Norma today. She's already aware of the nature of 
today's sequence, so please listen to her." 

Norma's entrance punctuated Mauley's statement. She was dressed in what 
appeared to be an authentic leopard-skin sarong, her breasts and thighs 
jiggling piquantly as she walked. She flashed the same knowing smile at 
Julie. 

"Les, if you'll call in the others ... and get the performers," Norma 
suggested. Nodding, Mauley left the room and returned instantly with the 
same familiar cameramen and two large black Nubian goats at the ends of dual 
leashes. The men stationed the cameras in front of a great boulder with a 
hollowed-out cup large enough to seat a human figure. The structure seemed 
to be made of plaster and was tapered down from the peak of what could be 
used as a back-rest, into two furrows about eighteen inches above and on 
either side of the hollowed-out seat. The edifice piqued Julie's curiosity, 
and she moved closer to inspect it. 

"That's right, Mrs. Jeffers," Norma said, "just sit down there in the rock 
and watch." Norma then led one of the goats to a spot about two feet away 
from Julie, unsnapped the leash from its collar, and indicated to Mauley 
that she was ready. 

"Start the cameras," Mauley bawled, plopping down in a canvas chair between 
the cameras. Julie watched the blonde girl's face assume a primitive look as 
she petted the billy's flanks and slowly knelt by its hindquarters. Still 
stroking the animal, her long fingers creeping carefully toward the 
underside of its stomach, Norma spoke gently in a tongue the beast seemed to 
recognize. He bleated and stepped up to the rock, rearing to place his 
forefeet alongside Julie's thighs. Norma moved with the goat, then sat and 
scooted under him on her buttocks, her legs straddling the dark shiny hooves 
that supported his haunches. Julie's heart throbbed crazily as she watched 
the blonde's hand take hold of the goat's hairy sheath and begin to milk it 
with lewd authority. She saw the creature respond, his natural lust kindling 
and jerking his muscles to life. His dark pink prick began to emerge from 
the black outer casing, watery jets of fluid arcing out and onto Norma's 
cheeks and shoulders. Norma skinned back the humping cock and grasped it 
with both hands until Julie beheld the smooth rubbery head on the staff, at 
its visible base, surging toward the shameless girl's lips. 

"Blow the bastard-suck it!" Mauley erupted from behind the floodlights. 

Norma flinched and then opened her lips for the lunging column, fighting to 
guide it into her accommodating mouth. After one abortive attempt, she 
managed to suck the long tapered animal cock in, her lips purling and 
drawing on him with .all the vigor of a lover. Julie hardly dared to 
breathe. She felt as though she had been caught in the act of some crime 
when the enormity not only of what she was witnessing, but because she was 
witnessing it, struck her. It was just as if she were an accessory, her very 
silence an agreement to help foster this undeniably unnatural act. 

"He's going to cum-soon..., " Norma gasped, coming up for a gulp of air. The 
cock banged harder into her throat when she resumed her wild sucking motion. 
It seemed that the girl wanted nothing else in the world but to please the 
black creature whose testicles dangled and slapped against her throat with 
an obscene but steady cadence. 

A strange masochistic hotness seethed in Julie as the goat picked up his 
pace and tried to gag the girl below her. She could sense the load building, 
the animal's sperm rallying in his balls, and found herself wishing it were 
hers ... Then, a slushy swallowing sound came from Norma, and she locked her 
hands hard around the Nubian's humping buttocks, pulling him forward and 
deeper into her mouth. He shivered and poked himself into Norma like an 
air-hammer on its last dying leg. She choked and swallowed frantically as 
the goat's boiling cream exploded into her. Julie uttered a little cry as 
she saw the girl's cheeks fill and empty, fill and empty, thick curds of 
goat-cum slavering obscenely down her chin and onto the girl's hard breasts. 

"Get it-get it!" Mauley screeched. "A close-up ... get the cum!" 

Incited by Mauley's enthusiasm, Norma purposely dribbled more of the milky 
substance from her lips and ran her slithery tongue over the oozing 
distended hole at the tip of the animal's cock. 

"It's your turn now," Norma whispered up to Julie as the goat stumbled away. 
"Yours is the fresh one, with a fresh load, and all you've got to do is 
spread your legs and get the wildest fuck of your life." 

Julie's eyes skittered uncertainly across the room to where the other animal 
was standing in a corner by the door. A moment later, as Norma led the large 
black ruminant up to the boulder, Julie could see that he was taller and 
much stockier than the other one. She watched the beast with increasing 
inner excitement and felt a new tenseness in the soft, fleshy folds of her 
cunt. 

Then, with the same agility and cooperation that the first goat had shown, 
this one grunted and also reared to place his feet on either side of Julie's 
nearly supine torso, but higher, this time alongside her shoulders in the 
scooped out furrows. Once again, Norma knelt down and began to manipulate 
the thick hirsute sheath, her long delicate fingers stimulating the Nubian 
almost immediately. His moist inner shaft appeared within seconds and was 
solid and long, already flexing and spurting salvoes of thin burning liquid 
of Julie's spread inner thighs. 

Norma nudged the goat forward a step and leaned against Julie's left leg, 
opening the helpless girl's groin even further, then, with the experienced 
fingers of one hand, parted the lips of Julie's pussy to reveal the juicy 
palpitating entrance to her hidden secrets. With her other hand, she helped 
the goat's flailing cock find a beginning purchase in the cavern, and 
stepped back. Julie groaned unashamedly as the brute's hardened animal 
member drove tempestuously into her, his balls beating with a weighty rhythm 
against her exposed rectum. She began to claw and pull the wiry flanks 
closer, her own open vaginal slit lashing out to meet his lewd assault. She 
reached far down and clutched his swinging sacs gently, turning her face 
sideways to avoid the creature's lolling tongue. 

The prick throbbed almost painfully inside her and felt as if it were 
charged with a thousand needle-sharp volts, and now she was crying and 
tossing even more wantonly, her beautiful face blotched pink with ecstasy, 
her eyes closed, head rolling, her lungs afire as she gyrated in a be-crazed 
circling motion. 

"Fuck! Fuck hard, you bitch ... up in your belly!" Mauley chanted, a faraway 
glint in his eyes, his right hand jerking up and down the length of his own 
naked penis with a frenzy. 

Julie felt the first delicious torrents of the goat's scorching white sperm 
splutter into the depths of her cunt. It surged into her like a volcanic 
outburst, violently, warming her groin and touching off her own climax with 
a brain-reeling pleasure. All her feelings of humiliation and fear went up 
in the smoke of her cumming. She was not even aware of the others watching 
her, filming her indecent subjugation, her face registering lurid delight as 
she sucked with her inner muscles to absorb the last dregs of the black 
goat's hot, scalding sperm. 

She sighed as he pulled out of her with a rushing, sodden sound and pivoted 
on his hind feet to land on the floor. She was covered with her own sweat, 
consumed by fatigue. A fleeting sense of loss came over her as she watched 
the departing Nubian's limp penis disappear into the fleshy sheath. She 
stared at him for a long time, her vision still glazed with dwindling 
passion, but the ugliness of reality was returning, bringing with it 
dishonor and strong waves of dread at the thought of facing the others. She 
rose quickly and snatched up the tiger skin she had discarded while the 
blond had been sucking off the first goat. Out of the corner of her eye, she 
caught a glimpse of Mauley and the others observing her, still showing 
traces of sexual intoxication in their expressions. My God! she thought, how 
much further must she sink into filth before they were satisfied? 

But Mauley had turned his attention to the photographic equipment again, and 
Norma was occupied with the goats, fastening the leashes to their studded 
collars. 

"If that's all for today, Mr. Mauley, I'd like to finish dressing and 
leave...." She lingered a moment, expecting him to ask Norma to fetch the 
envelope. But no one spoke or seemed to acknowledge her presence. Finally, 
Mauley faced her and shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, Julie, go. We're not 
keeping you." 

"But ... I haven't been paid. You said yesterday there would be a bonus...." 

"Now, now," Mauley returned sarcastically, "you've had your bonus, haven't 
you? It's not every afternoon that a simple housewife is fucked to her 
heart's content by such a grand animal as you've enjoyed." Winking, he once 
more applied himself to the cameras. Julie's body trembled with rage and 
confusion that she had been so hatefully duped. Tears filled her eyes and 
ran in salty rivulets down her flaming cheeks. "No, no!" she wept. "You 
can't just use me and ... and cheat me! I'm only doing this for money!" 

His voice mellowing, Mauley strode over to the distraught girl and put his 
arms around her. "Oh Julie, I was merely teasing you. Of course you'll be 
paid, and handsomely, for your work today. Norma, please get the envelope. 
It's in the usual place." 

Assuaged by his mollifications, Julie dressed and waited by the exit to the 
waiting room, her posture slack as she witnessed the removal of the jungle 
props from the room. 

"In case you're wondering, we're shooting phase three of a series of still 
shots this evening. There's a staggering demand for our material. We have to 
work for into the night sometimes, to keep up and, then too, to fit in the 
schedules of some of our part-time models." 

Then Norma breezed in, now fully dressed and immaculately made up, and 
proffered the white sealed envelope to Julie. 

"Don't plan on being here tomorrow, honey. We're flying to the big city to 
have a batch of film processed and distributed. So take it easy and think 
over what you'll do with all your money. Maybe you'll want to buy some 
livestock," she chuckled. 

"Never mind Norma," Mauley sighed, his eyelashes arching to simulate his 
burden of suffering, "for, while she's wonderfully proficient, she's lacking 
in grace and discretion." 

Julie smiled perfunctorily and stuffed the envelope into her purse. She 
wanted to run, to dematerialize in thin air, and yet to somehow retain her 
bizarre new life, its adventure and danger and oddly rewarding shamefulness. 

"Shall I come day after tomorrow, then?" Julie asked humbly. 

"Just follow your instructions, dear," Mauley answered, his tone still 
smooth but implying that he was chafing to get back to work. "We'll be 
seeing you." 

As Julie stood waiting for the elevator to come to rest at ground level, she 
felt another gush of sticky substance dampening the crotch band of her 
panties. A mixture of alarm and wonderment ran through her. What if the goat 
made her pregnant? she asked herself, remembering a modern poem she had read 
about a thing-half man, half animal-in a bottle on exhibit in some museum. 
Then she laughed aloud at the thought of what Eric's parents would say if 
she presented them with a child that was half goat. Well, they would at 
least have the grandchild they want so much, and Eric could make a fortune 
... if he could explain it. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Autumn was approaching, the northern winds shifting and reshaping the clouds 
on the horizon. Julie Jeffers was peering out through the rain-blurred 
kitchen window, wholly absorbed in how the bull-like drops dimpled the 
little pools in the back yard. She sat with her legs crossed under a huge 
eiderdown, the editorial page of the local newspaper spread out on the table 
beside her. She had attempted several times to read it-just because she 
wanted to familiarize herself with topics to discuss with Eric-but found 
herself unable to concentrate. Instead, her mind buzzed with questions and 
dreams of what she would do with her earnings. Above all, how could she 
account to Eric her possession of over thirteen hundred dollars? She had 
neglected to consider this point, one that might very well change their 
chance for happiness and security into a dead-end horror of 
misunderstanding, maybe divorce. Perhaps Terry would have a solution. 

Resolved to seek her neighbor's counsel, she threw off the quilt and went 
downstairs to get her raincoat from the laundry-room closet. Stopping before 
the mirror by the front door, she fluffed her hair and checked to see if she 
needed lipstick. What she saw in her reflection made her pause. Her face was 
drawn and there were the beginnings of dark pouches under her eyes, yet 
there was a newness, an almost succulent, mysterious quality in her youthful 
features. She looked more than ever like a real woman, a woman with 
experience, background, a story to tell.... 

The short jaunt next door had been enough to soak Julie's feet and drench 
the front of her dress. 

"Honey, honey, come in! Good Lord, you're sopping!" Terry remonstrated as 
she helped Julie free her arms from the raincoat. "Why didn't you button 
your front before you left?" 

"I thought I'd make a mad dash ... I'd no idea it was raining this hard. 

"Well, let's get some coffee down you. Dolores is here, and dry I might add. 
We'll all have a nice chat and catch upon the latest," Terry said merrily. 

"Dolo, Julie's here, soaking! Go into the bar and get some bourbon for this 
poor lamb's coffee." 

"That might be nice," Julie giggled. 

When the three women had pulled their chairs up to the living room 
fireplace, Julie was thankful that Jake had acted upon Terry's nagging 
suggestions that a roaring fire would keep her company while he was on the 
road. The yellow and blue flames licking upwards were comforting, peaceful. 
And the spiked coffee warmed and lulled her stomach like a tender caress. 

"Hey, tell us what's been going on at Mr. Mauley's studio," Dolores said 
with obvious eagerness. 

Terry's face eluded as she gave the buxom girl a reproving glance. "She'll 
tell you when she's ready, not before." 

"Oh, that's all right," Julie said. "Actually, we're filming a series, a 
thing involving nature subjects, about an American housewife's return to 
nature ... that kind of thing." 

"Animals too?" Dolores asked. 

"Well, ... yes, animals too." 

"I think I'm beginning to get the drift," Terry said slyly. "Knowing Les, I 
can imagine what you've been up to. Was it fun?" 

"It's-it's just work, Terry. Whether it's fun or not doesn't enter into it." 
Julie hesitated, then went on, boldly: "I've learned a lot about myself and 
what makes me tick, so it's been more rewarding than fun." She shifted in 
her chair, her eyes narrowing to slits as she leaned closer to them, her 
manner one of great confidence. The generous portion of bourbon in her 
coffee was having its effect. "Yesterday I learned that sexual desire isn't 
really desire, but stimulation. A woman reacts to almost anything, man or 
beast, if properly introduced. Les-" 

"Les taught you," Terry blurted in. "He taught you how to look upon your 
body as an instrument of pleasure...." 

"Of pleasure!" Dolores shouted, her own volume shocking her. "But surely you 
and Eric ... surely you get enough ... pleasure at home, with your husband, 
with Eric ... married." 

"Oh shit, Dolo," Terry said with boredom, "can't you, just once, forget your 
dismally sexless God and listen to reason? It's no damned wonder that you're 
twenty-two and so wearyingly virgin that even the women in the neighborhood 
pity you. Stiff upper lip Dolo, the frustrated Carrie Nation of Rapple 
Drive, the shining untouched chest and saint of the state ... Goddammit! go 
get laid, you'll be less tiresome and more yourself!" 

"Terry!" Julie cried. "She doesn't know. She's not married. She's just out 
of her teens ... You had no right." 

"Julie, please, let's go," Dolores pleaded brokenheartedly, copious tears 
streaming down her cheeks. 

"Well, I guess we'd better. Come on, honey," 

Julie said as she held the weeping girl and at the same time negotiated her 
arms into the sleeves of her red slicker. "You understand, don't you, Terry? 
We'll talk it over later. She's just upset now." 

"Yeah, upset. That's what I was talking about," Terry agreed. "Tell her I'm 
sorry, though. I was out of line." 

Julie got into her own raincoat, shivering as she cast a smile of treaty at 
Terry, then took Dolores' hand and prepared for the puddle-leaping sprint 
next door. 

Home, Julie settled Dolores at the kitchen table and began a matter-of-fact 
explanation of Terry's attack. "You shouldn't mind Terry, you know-she's 
awfully liberal and hasn't any patience with anyone who isn't the same way." 

"You're saying I'm a prude, is that it? Oh Julie, you don't know ... All my 
life I've been ashamed of myself, of my stigma," she said, pointing to her 
mammoth breasts, "and I can't cope ... I can't make up ... Oh, do they!? " 

"What?" Julie asked, reaching out to pat the girl and ward off another 
outburst of tears. 

"Do they ... my friends ... the women ... do they truly pity me?" 

"Not really, no. They're concerned, just as I am. But I know what you feel. 
I've gone through the same thing. And now, for the first time in my life, 
I'm discovering myself, what I am, what my husband really means to me." 

"You're so lucky, having Eric, a home, and exciting job." 

Dolores' last remark sparked an incredible thought in Julie's mind. Why not 
Dolores? Why not introduce her to Les and pave the way to a thrilling 
future, a self-sufficiency and pride in herself that the girl had never 
envisioned? Les would doubtless consider Dolores' endowments a boon to 
himself and his business. And he might even allow the girl to work with her, 
which would tend to salve her own conscience as well as provide a less 
humiliating easement for Dolores into the role she would have to fill. 

"Dolores, you may be offended by this question, but trust me when I say I'm 
asking it for your own good ... Are you still a virgin?" 

The full-bosomed young girl flinched and sat bolt upright in her chair, her 
face flushing a deep carmine. Immediately, Julie felt vile and cruel for 
daring to query the innocent girl so forthrightly, but relaxed when she 
perceived resignation flow over Dolores' features and throughout her body. 

"This will probably surprise you, Julie, but yes ... I've been touched. You 
might as well know it. My father, my own father! ... raped me when I was 
sixteen. I've never been able to live it down, ... but oh, how I've ached to 
tell someone, to confess." Her gaze fell to her feet as the evil memory 
assailed her again with all its brutal force and detail. She sat in silence 
for what seemed an eternity, overcome once more by the terrible sense of sin 
she had been trying to ignore for years, since that awful day, now reviving 
in her like a chronic disease that not even time could heal. She remembered 
her mother, the perky little puritan, who held an unyielding belief that the 
sole function and purpose of sexual intercourse was procreation. And her 
father, a bull-necked, hard-drinking rogue, who had one day taken her like a 
common prostitute on the bed in her mother's room. He had even offered her 
money to keep her quiet afterwards. Then she had joined the church and 
become active in social affairs, in the choir, Sunday School, anything to 
make up for her guilt and keep out of range of men, all of whom she was 
convinced were hellish beasts intent on using her plush body to satiate 
themselves. 

"Dolores, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to pry into your past. I merely wanted 
to help." Julie regretted what had previously been her catty, uncharitable 
attitude toward the tortured girl. Rising, she filled their coffee cups, 
racking her brain for a diplomatic way to introduce the subject of Mauley. 

Solving the problem, Dolores continued: "If only I could do something 
useful, like you, and maybe meet the right man ... someone wise and capable 
... someone to help me work out my fears and help me a human being again." 

"I might be able to arrange an interview with Mr. Mauley," Julie said 
tentatively, her eyes searching the girl's face for a reaction. "One thing I 
can promise-you'll meet men. But I'm not scheduled to see him again until 
tomorrow." 

"Oh Julie, could you!? " Dolores asked, a burst of gaiety lighting her 
usually doleful eyes. "I'd be so grateful!" 

"I'll work out something, don't worry." 

Later, after Dolores had left, Julie felt like a wicked demon for having 
encouraged her to meet Mauley and begin what would surely be the most 
traumatic phase of her life. And yet, why not? Dolores was single, lonely, 
anxious to work out her problems and have what Terry so often called "fun" 
... Then Dolores' parting words came back to her: "I'll never forget you for 
this, Julie." 

 CHAPTER NINE 

That afternoon's session at the studio had been innocuous compared to the 
first ones. She had simply been asked to undress and pose alone in the nude. 
For that matter, she had surprisingly enjoyed striking the provocative 
postures Mauley wanted for a series of still shots. Nor had she quailed when 
her employer staged her holding a rubber replica of a fat snake inches from 
her vagina. Only the close ups of her widespread pubic region (which he had 
marked "cunt shots" on the script Norma carried) had been improper and 
debasing. She had also been directed to sit on a dark green easy chair with 
her legs spread wide apart as she squeezed her jutting ivory breasts tightly 
together in a gesture of offering to the cameras. 

She had mentioned Dolores to Mauley, assuring him that he would be quite 
pleased with the girl's ripe figure and willingness to further the cause of 
"social enlightenment" and art. Would he be willing to give her neighbor a 
try? 

Mauley had been more than interested (especially when he heard her candid 
description of Dolores' dazzling chest) and remarked that he had been 
contemplating having a party anyway, particularly since his trip to the city 
had been so profitable. Then, in his inimitably bewitching manner, he had 
made a generous offer to sponsor a "first-rate" party at her house. That 
way, he explained, he could casually meet Dolores and provide his 
"associates" with some well-earned distraction. Would tonight be too soon? 
Julie had pondered a moment, worrying about Eric's response to such a 
proposal, then said, Yes, it would be fine with her. 

Now, having enlisted Terry's aid in the preparation of imagine dishes for a 
buffet, she was rereading the guest list to determine if she had forgotten 
to invite anyone. Mauley had said he would handle invitations to his friends 
and had included sufficient extra money in the envelope to fund a really 
spectacular shindig. Eric had not been overjoyed when she broached the 
subject on the telephone, but had finally agreed when she swore that "one of 
Terry's friends" was footing the entire bill. Lying, she had gone on to say 
that the friend's apartment was inadequate to handle forty people, the 
number coming, and that Terry had begged her to ask him if it would be all 
right. Terry had complied with the prevarication and promised to back her 
all the way. And Dolores had sounded all aquiver and passionately anxious to 
meet the prospective employer. 

Still, though, Julie could not shake loose the feeling that her intervention 
on Dolores' behalf might turn out to be a huge disaster. She struggled with 
the notion that she had no moral right to steer the naive young girl into a 
situation that could expose her to more shame and compromising depravity 
than she had known at the hands of her lust-driven pig of a father. But the 
girl had to confront reality, just as she had less than a week ago, Julie 
rationalized, tossing off her doubts as she began to think what she could 
wear that evening. Something exciting! The hell with Eric and his Victorian 
tastes...! She experienced a tremorous thrill as she recalled Mauley's 
saying that the cowboy would be in attendance. She grappled with the 
feeling, arguing to herself that the boisterous man was cruel and quite 
obviously self-indulgent. Yet, her arguments dissolved as fast as she formed 
them. She recollected with coarse unwanted delight how he had used her 
prostrate body, obediently following Mauley's commands and taking turns with 
the Latin as they had plied her defenseless bodily openings to satisfy their 
own selfish sexual needs. 

Also, Mauley had cautioned her, Norma would be there, wearing a "special" 
costume, and would be more than willing to help serve drinks and "entertain" 
where needed. 

"Julie, where are you?" 

"In here, Terry, in the bathroom. Come on in, it's okay." 

"Jesus, what are you doing in here, fully dressed and with the telephone 
yet?" 

"I know it's silly," Julie laughed. "It's just that I've been doing a lot of 
thinking in bathrooms since I've been grownup. It's easier somehow ... But 
what's the matter? I thought you'd be home whipping up gallons of intriguing 
victuals and making ready to seduce every male in sight." 

"Well now, listen to little Miss Continental," Terry teased. "Don't trouble 
yourself about my outfit for tonight. Believe me, I'll manage, baby. As for 
the victuals, they're ready and waiting. I just came over to add an extra 
something to the punch we made." Holding up three bottles filled with a 
thick green liquid, she said, "It's Pernod with real Spanish absinthe, some 
stuff Jake was lucky enough to buy from one of his hornier clients. Just 
blend it in with the other stuff. I can guarantee its beneficial effects, 
that it'll make everyone happier, a helluva lot looser, and less like Eric, 
who'll probably waste the whole evening just talking and scowling at the 
guests." 

"Thanks millions, I'll mix it in ... if you're really certain it's all 
right. But please, come a little early, won't you? I'm altogether too 
rattled to think of everything myself. Do you know, that in all the years 
we've been married, this will be the first big party we've had?" 

"Yes, but don't worry. I'll help set up things. Just don't forget the 
absinthe, that's all. And you'd better do it when your nervous husband's not 
watching, lest he decide to pour it out to protect his chastity." 

* * * 

By one o'clock, hardly more than an hour after the first guests had arrived, 
the party had already fulfilled Julie's wildest expectations. People were 
eating, drinking, lavishing compliments on her for her imagination in 
bringing together such an interesting throng. A three-piece combo Les had 
hired was in the living room, drinking and chatting freely with guests 
between numbers. In the kitchen, between the breakfast table (which had been 
set up as a makeshift bar) and the refrigerator, the gangling cowboy stood 
swaying, nominating everyone in sight as a potential candidate for a role in 
some howlingly funny rendition of Hamlet he had dreamt up to charm anyone 
who would listen. Hardly anyone paid attention, though, which little daunted 
him, and he pursued the farce with real authority and spirit. Julie promised 
herself that she would draw aside her drunken colleague, if she got a 
chance, and persuade him to be less ribald and more a friendly contributor 
to the genial atmosphere of the party. 

Wandering back into the living room, Julie checked a cry when she saw Norma 
serving cocktails in her "special" hostess uniform. The languid blond wore 
only a skimpy micro-length skirt, spike heels, and nothing above! Her snowy 
breasts jiggled and jumped as she moved heedlessly from person to person, 
bending over to thrust her cherry-tipped nipples in the faces of those who 
held out only half-empty glasses to be filled. Julie quickly ran through the 
guest list in her mind, terrified that Eric's boss and several of his 
co-workers would be insulted and thwart him when he applied for the advanced 
research position he wanted. Then, coming to the rescue, Mauley rose from a 
dark corner and announced, "The young Lady you see refilling your glasses is 
my most valuable employee. Her key function in life is to please ... If 
anyone has the profoundly bad taste to disagree, pity the person ... 
Moreover," the slightly tipsy director added to enforce his admonishment, 
"my precious Norma can't tolerate men without push enough to assert 
themselves-as men." 

A cheer went up from everyone, including the lab men. Terry regarded Norma 
through slitted eyes, inhaling the brazen hussy's cheap cologne with disgust 
as her glass was replenished with the potent elixir. Her roving gaze met 
Eric's and seemed to meld with an unspoken rapport as they condemned the 
girl and the speech with their eyes. Eric lifted himself from the wall he 
had been leaning against and crossed the room to squeeze down on the couch 
beside Terry. He could not help but notice his sexy neighbor's low-cut 
dress, a clinging velvet model that hugged her slim exotic thighs like an 
extra skin. He rebuked himself for thanking the circumstances that kept Jake 
away from home so much. 

"Eric, love, I think you're having a bit of fun for a change, if it's not a 
mirage," Terry said coyly, her voice throaty and suggestive, a flirting 
glint in her eyes. 

"Can't complain," Eric countered with unwonted boldness. "But who's that 
half-naked floozy, the racy waitress your pal Mauley's been praising? Damned 
if I'd mind getting her into the sack myself! She's beautiful. And so are 
you, if you don't mind my saying so-no kidding!" 

"Well, will wonders never cease?" Terry purred as she stretched lazily to 
show off her lithe form to its best advantage. "Now what would your sweet 
little wife say if she heard you carrying on like this?" 

"Nothing, not a damned thing! Julie's too shallow to know about these 
matters. But you ... I'd bet an afternoon's pay that you're different." Eric 
downed the remainder of his drink to climax as well as excuse the rashness 
of his blunt pronouncement. 

"You'll never know at the rate you've been going," Terry taunted while she 
looked cursorily about the room, satisfying herself that no one was 
cognizant of what was happening between them. Only Betty Lorimer had been 
watching, but turned briskly away to endorse what seemed to her a promising 
intimacy in the making. 

Eric leaned closer to Terry and, taking her off guard, planted a wet, 
passionate kiss on her mouth. After the initial shock, that her neighbor's 
abnormally pure husband would venture such an act, Terry returned his kiss, 
pressing her luxurious figure against him with an urgency and boldness that 
would surely frighten him back to his stupid bank books and the safety of 
his servile wife. She thought how fun it might be to tempt this simpering 
eunuch of a man to try something with her. After all, he had had three or 
more drinks already-enough, she decided, to spark his manhood-if he had 
any-and make him forget himself just long enough to make a play for her. 

Seeming to sense her sudden availability, he pressed forward to kiss her 
again, this time allowing his free hand to rove tentatively along her slim 
shoulders and down daringly close to the exposed upper expanse of her full, 
rounded breasts. A chill and pleasant warmth passed through her, and she 
squirmed her beautifully sculptured buttocks deeper into the cushion and 
tighter against his slim male hip. Her panties were filling with the wetness 
of arousal, and she squeezed her thighs together in a vain attempt to check 
the tingling sensation beginning to grow there. She was on precarious 
ground, and knew it, but felt certain that she could tackle just about 
anything the poor idiot might do. 

"Hey, why don't we go somewhere, anywhere, out of the living room?" Eric 
huskily proposed. Terry felt the hardness of his penis drilling into her 
thigh, a sure sign that her game was working. 

"Of course, Eric. Why don't we talk in the bedroom?" She canted her head 
down, smirking to herself and reveling in her power to taunt and control 
him, to push the game to its limit, a hairbreadth this side of danger, and 
prove beyond doubt her mastery in manipulating him at will. 

"That's a splendid idea," Eric decided, taking her hand and resolutely 
clearing a path for them as they cut through the milling confusion of guests 
in the hallway and crossing in front of them from room to room. She was 
positive that at any second he would turn sheepishly and say, "Okay, okay, 
you've bluffed me out," so she followed him with an attitude of docility as 
she planned new strategy to further her superiority to him. "Would you like 
to pick up a couple of those potent drinks on the way?" Eric asked, 
detouring into the kitchen without waiting for her approval. 

"Sure, go ahead, if you need courage ... I'm fine myself," Terry 
deliberately teased. She sidled up to him, her arms folded into her chest in 
an imitation of sweetness, while with the toe of her shoe she sawed 
suggestively at Eric's calf. 

"You're a hot bitch, aren't you, neighbor dear? But maybe it's all fake-you 
know, the emancipated female out to get her share of the goodies too. 
Right?" 

"Maybe ... maybe you're right ... But how would you know, one way or the 
other?" she pressured, more than ever enjoying his discomfort and the fact 
that he stood with his back to the others to shield the ever-lengthening 
protrusion in his trouser crotch. 

"Try me," Eric braved. Then, taking her hand more possessively than before, 
he practically jerked her off her feet to lead her again into the crowded 
corridor. 

The poor chump is actually going to take me in there, Terry thought with 
amusement, but watch him run like a scared rabbit when I come on a little 
... Only the ebb and flow of a quivering pulse of anticipation, a feeling 
not part of the game, troubled her as Eric pulled her into the bedroom. Her 
feeling of power lessened when he closed and locked the door, stripping off 
his jacket as he adjusted the little ceramic lamps on the night stands, on 
each side of the head of the bed, to candle-brightness. Then, he wordlessly 
crushed her to him, almost painfully grinding his mouth on hers, thrusting 
his tongue into her and greedily sucking at hers. Terry shuddered and 
chilled from the stimulation that being involved in something forbidden 
gives, despite her fondness and the ironic kind of loyalty she felt for 
Julie. She was still not threatened and believed that she was capable any 
time of putting this hot-breathed half boy in his proper place. She sighed 
as though unmoved and at the end of tolerating his increasingly reckless 
caresses. She walked easily to the bed, her casualness designed to insult 
him with indifference. But Eric misunderstood and immediately stretched out 
beside her. Her act had been to him one of consent, a shameless invitation 
to touch and fondle her as much as he liked. He was raging inside, his shaft 
beating with every breath, his balls nestling like spongy rocks ready to 
erupt their load. 

Terry gasped at the change coming over her as he worked his trembling eager 
hand up under her plushy dress and gently petted her secret inner thighs. He 
kissed her again and dropped his mouth to nuzzle in the deep valley between 
her high white breasts. She felt tiny delicious contractions in the tiny bud 
of her clitoris and began gradually to give way to the wild incoherent 
emotions shooting relentlessly through her yearning body. Eric's agitation 
was building higher and hotter, urging him to rotate and mash his seething 
loins cruelly against hers, while his shaking hands tore at the soft 
material covering her full ripe breasts. Freeing them, he shoved himself 
fully upon her and nibbled and bit her hard deep-brown nipples until the 
sleekly built girl groaned and writhed, her own hands circling one tit at a 
time to form a taut mound to cram into Eric's hungry mouth. Sucking and 
biting at her, he ripped open his trousers and kicked them free. Then he 
placed his hand under her undulating back, lifting her an inch or so as he 
slipped her already-wrinkled velour dress up to the inhibiting mounds he had 
just stopped sucking. 

"God, are you really going to? Really-" she moaned choking on the thickness 
of her own hurricane of ecstatic feeling. To show her he was, he lifted her 
dress over her head and, still kneading her heaving melons, dragged her 
sheer, silken panties down over her hips to her knees. His body lurched 
ahead, his hairy male body covering her from head to toe, and then he wedged 
his own knees inside her knees and forced them widely apart. With an inhuman 
sound, she kicked her legs back over her head and with one hand searched for 
his jutting penis. Finding it, she squirmed back and forth lasciviously, 
bending back her legs impossibly to accommodate the rigid pole about to fuck 
into her and stretch her warm pulsation cuntal passage beyond all repair. 

God almighty, it was a monster! And to think that to her Eric had seemed 
such a helpless little boy. 

He sensed that there was not one iota of resistance left in her and pushed 
the thick rubbery head of his cock against the sensitive lips of her moist, 
open pussy. She was pinned to the mattress under his weight. The scalding 
hot throb in her stomach creamed for release from its agonies. Nothing 
mattered now but to swallow the entire measure of his penis into her. 

"Oh please," she moaned, her voice rising to a shriek, "fuck me, fuck me 
with it! Hurry!" 

Eric's mouth twisted into a crazy smile as he ground his pelvis up to her 
buttocks and with one merciless lunge parted the pubic hair broke into her 
desire-slickened cunt. Inch by inch, he buried himself deeper and deeper 
into her snuggly clasping vaginal cavity, until at last she had accepted all 
of his hard, throbbing male organ up to the hilt. Low hums of pleasurable 
servile abandon came in torrents from deep in her throat, her face contorted 
with lust, mouth working, neck straining, nostrils flared, a light sweat 
breaking out on her forehead below her now disheveled hair. The wet, sucking 
sound of their union joined in harmony with the smack of her sperm-filled 
balls against her naked anus. 

He slaved above her, occasionally changing his rhythm from short fast 
penetrations to long smooth strokes that brought his huge cock almost all 
the way out of her clasping vagina on the backstroke and then in again until 
she could feel his pelvic bone crunching on hers. He grinned again, thinking 
to himself of the beautiful humiliation she would feel as he slipped his 
hand under her smooth satiny ass and worked a finger back and forth across 
her defensively puckered anus. It was delicate and warm, and he could feel 
it bucking away from his touch as she drilled wildly up against his loins. 
His passion out of control, he jammed into the tender rubbery flesh of her 
hair-lined pussy with two fingers. 

"God, nooooooooo!" she groaned, her hips involuntarily leaping upwards to 
escape the painful intrusion into her rectum, yet serving only to drive 
Eric's gigantic weapon further into her than before. She winced when the 
blood-inflated glans collided savagely against her cervix, threatening to 
plow her womb and into her intestines. 

Then he plunged his fingers deeper, spreading them to widen even more the no 
longer virginal nether throat of her straining rectum. Slowly her whimpering 
protestations subsided and changed gradually to cries of excitement as her 
anus became accustomed to the strange invasion. She was impaled like a slave 
between his thick prick slamming into her ravaged vagina and his two fingers 
worming salaciously into her obscenely stretched anal passage. 

His neighbors gorgeous face was unrecognizable, a mask of feature-contorting 
animal joy. He felt satisfaction in taking her thus, off her high horse, 
while he fed her the hardened cock she had seemed to be dying for since he 
had known her. He quickened his strokes, burning and throbbing and deep, as 
she thrashed beneath him like a rutting dog. She was close now-he could feel 
it coursing deep in her belly and along the bottoms of her up-thrust thighs. 
Her breasts were rosy and firm under his jerking weight, the erect nipples 
burrowing like hard buttons into his chest. 

"Oh Christ! Oh God! I'm making it! I'm cumming, cummmmmming! Ooooooh, 
ooooooh!" She shivered and began to flail uncontrollably under him, her 
skewered cunt palpitating and opening like a tiny fish mouth around his 
pummeling cock. He banged harder and faster, smashing between her flailing 
legs like an ape gone berserk. His own orgasm had arrived like a deluge of 
unexpected lava trying to escape all at once through the small aperture at 
the tip of his swelling cock. He arched his back and delivered one hard, 
desperate thrust to empty his splashing stream of milky white seminal fluid 
far up into her flat rolling belly. Their juices mixed inside in a pool of 
sticky, slippery completion. 

"Beautiful, beautiful!" Terry said, her words garbled and indistinguishable 
with panting. Her legs had fallen limp on either side of his still heaving 
body. She was exhausted and fulfilled as she had never been before. Then, 
remembering where she was and that it was her friend Julie's husband who was 
lying on her, his fingers still trapped in her rectum, she tapped him on the 
shoulder and said, "I think it's about time we got out of her and joined the 
others, don't you?" 

"I guess I'd better disengage myself first-unless you're up to trotting in 
there all plugged up." Eric straightened up on his knees, still bending his 
upper torso over her while he withdrew his fingers from her rectum with a 
vulgar hissing sound. Then, he pulled his deflating member slowly out of 
Terry's gaping wet pussy with a whooshing sound, and a cool rush of air 
filled her where he had worked them both to thrilling climax a moment 
before. 

"If this always happens when you have a party, Eric, I suggest you have them 
all the time," she said while preparing herself to meet the host of people 
beyond the door. 

"Has it ever occurred to you that we don't have to have an excuse to do 
this? ... Julie doesn't know I know, but she's got some silly job 
afternoons. Dolores let it slip by accident. I could take lunch around two 
o'clock and...." 

"And you'd sneak home for a quickie with old Terry, is that it? Well, you 
can't tell, baby, maybe I'll get horny again ... But I doubt it, not after 
this, not for awhile anyway." 

Satisfied that they had straightened their clothes and generally corrected 
their appearances to allay suspicion, they left the bedroom and tried to 
blend inconspicuously into the party again. They had no trouble. The combo 
was playing something loud and jazzy, drowning out all but the most 
stentorian voices, and by now the punch was flowing freely. Julie espied 
Terry and hurried over to her. 

"Thank heavens, here you are! I've been sending out S.O.S. signals, hoping 
you'd hear and come help me meet the emergencies. The first thing," Julie 
sighed, "we're running low on punch. Not that I think they need more! God, 
you should see them, undressing in front of the jazz group peering down 
dresses, talking as though filthy language were in vogue. What shall I do?" 

"Be gracious, honey. It's a party, isn't it? Let them get their jollies," 
Terry winked. "As for the booze, send out for more-and I'll try to think up 
some nifty lie to explain stealing the last two bottles of Jake's reserve, 
the cache he thinks I don't know anything about. See you in a flash." 

Julie steeled herself and retreated to the bedroom to telephone the liquor 
store, checking the wad of currency in her bra with a reassuring pat. When 
she burst into the bedroom and flicked on the light, she jumped in fright at 
the sight of Betty Lorimer and the cowboy, still wearing his hand-tooled 
boots, both naked and slamming obscenely against each other. 

"Oh! Excuse me-it's a mistake! ... I wanted to use the telephone, to call 
... for more liquor ... to ... Oh forgive me!" Julie pleaded, tears brimming 
in her eyes. 

"Shit, lady, don't worry a bit," the cowboy said without missing a single 
stroke of his spearing into Betty her neighbor's willing chasm. "We're good 
friends-maybe more-and throwing a good fuck into your nice neighbor here's 
the best way in the world to introduce us." 

Julie started to say something else but decided not to when she saw the 
muscular man launch a new storm of punishing humps into the grunting, 
twisting Betty. 

Julie was a few feet outside the door when she ran headlong into Lester 
Mauley. He seemed soberer, more his handsome, deceitful self, although she 
saw that his lips were half-mooned in an otherworldly smile, unusual even 
for him. He seemed to be inflamed by the activity, even drugged. 

"Dear, you scrumptious love, where's this super-girl you've told me about? 
Find her for meat once!" Despite Mauley's feigned imperiousness, Julie 
noticed a tone of wrought-up sincerity in his voice. 

"Golly, Les, I've been too busy in the kitchen to keep track of her-or 
anybody. But just as soon as I arrange to have the liquor supply 
replenished, I'll find her and introduce you two. By the way, have you seen 
Eric, my husband?" 

Before Mauley could answer, Eric approached them, his manner of walking 
certain proof that he was slightly more than squiffy-in fact, that he was on 
the verge of being dead drunk. Julie's heart fell when she realized that he 
was in no condition to drive to the store for more liquor. 

"Whass matter, honey?" Eric managed to slur through thick lips, the very 
effort of speaking causing him to momentarily lose his balance. "We all 
wanna 'nother drink ... and here you are, juss talkin'...." 

Coming to the rescue for the second time that evening, Mauley broke in with 
a suggestion: "By Jesus, I'm thirsty too! So why don't I send off one of my 
staff to buy more of the ingredients that go into Julie's wonderful punch?" 

"Oh thank you, Les!" Julie blurted, her eyes darting to Eric to determine if 
he had caught her familiar use of Mauley's first name. But Eric was too 
preoccupied with maintaining his balance to perceive any familiarity between 
his wife and Lester Mauley. 

"Okay, I'll be in the kitchen, then-if you find someone to go," Julie said. 

"Hmmmmm ... now where's that damned cowboy?" Mauley wondered aloud as he 
moved off to disappear among the others. 

Moments later, the cowboy slapped Julie on the buttocks with a resounding 
thwack as she bent over the kitchen sink, rinsing cocktail glasses. 

"Boss-man says I'm supposed to drive you to the store for more booze ... 
Ready?" Although she knew he was drunk, was always drunk, she marveled at 
the clarity of his voice, the steadiness of his step, as he escorted her 
down the stairs to the front door. As they were exiting, Julie blanched at 
the sight of Eric stumbling drunkenly up the stairs. His fly was partially 
open, his hair tousled, and he looked such a wreck, lurching and weaving as 
he climbed, that she was instantly overcome with compassion. 

"Are you okay, Eric?" Julie inquired tenderly. 

"You better believe it, kiddo," the intoxicated man mumbled, straightening 
up to affirm the statement. 

"Oh fine, but why don't you go up and find Terry ... just to keep her 
company? We'll be home in a few minutes-we're going to buy more liquor ... 
for all you Hemingway-type guzzlers. See you, darling," Julie waved. 

Racing up the block in the cowboy's low-slung Jaguar, Julie sighed relief 
and turned to address the tall man at the wheel. "It might have been easier 
to give you directions and avoid all the hell I'll get from my husband ... 
I've never seen him this drunk before." 

"Hell, I wouldn't worry about it, lady. He's not as drunk as he is tired. 
I'd be the same way, after that bout he had with that long-legged gal in the 
sexy dress ... Shit-" 

"What 'gal' are you talking about?" Julie asked menacingly, the ominous 
timbre of her voice astonishing her as much as her normally nervy companion. 
The man did not reply and instead tromped down on the accelerator, causing 
the powerful car to sink lower, then jump ahead with an awesome boost of 
energy that threw Julie back into her leather seat. Despite her 
consternation, the beautiful drone of the supercharged engine was music to 
her ears. 

"You know, that tall broad, your foxy neighbor, the one who was 
bull-shittin' with your old man in the living room, before they disappeared 
into thin air." He was silent again, intent as he eased the car into a 
tire-squealing drift around the corner that Julie had indicated that they 
should take. In perfect control again, he continued: "You mean to say you're 
pissed because your safe little hubby gets a little on the side? ... Shit, 
I'd screw the bitch myself, but I'm a lot more interested in that young 
piece with the fantastic boobs ... What's her name?" 

"Do you mean Dolores?" Julie said barely audibly. 

"Yeah! Can you fix me up?" 

"I doubt it. I doubt-I doubt ... everything." 

They drove on without speaking, their mutual taciturnity like a pact to 
loathe and feel disgust for each other. 

* * * 

Having swilled off more of the sex-inciting punch, the guests were grouping 
in little islands to seriously discuss and, in some instances, explore one 
another's physical assets. Julie had located and graciously introduced 
Dolores to Mauley, who was typically charming and confident as he guided the 
voluptuous girl through the swarm of excited guests toward a relatively 
un-peopled niche next to the living room window beside the coffee table and 
a few steps from the bookcase, the one place in the room where they might 
find a modicum of privacy. 

"Before I say anything, let me at least say I recognize your rare sort of 
sweetness, that you seem a muse and ... an angel at the same time. 

You can't imagine how grateful I am to Julie for introducing us." Breathing 
laboriously, he fixed his eyes ravenously on Dolores' throat, a 
palm's-length above the ballooning bulge of her pallorous breasts. 

"I-I'm glad," she said blushingly. The situation was embarrassing her, 
taking its toll on her composure. Her full white chest was rising, 
threatening to burst into view and endorse her discomfiture, the womanhood 
she had tried so hard to ignore and keep secret. "Julie ... my friend ... 
she's tried to help me face things ... And-and she said you'd teach me to 
help people and-" 

"And exploit your exquisite physical attributes," Mauley finished. "I think 
you're quite able to help, except-" he paused, "-except for what experience 
warns me must be a crippling ignorance on our part towards the truth and 
honesty among people." He inhaled slowly, to dramatize his point, and sipped 
slowly and thoughtfully on his drink, an almost defeated look on his face. 

Unable to endure his implication, Dolores snatched up his glass and downed a 
portion of his potent cocktail in great gulps, the syrupy but biting liquid 
making her gag and cough. Bravely, though, she tilted up the glass again, 
this time emptying its contents. A lovely glow came over her, centering 
mostly in her stomach but extending up along her ribs to her massive 
breasts. He watched with delight as her expression softened, sweetening to 
child--likeness as though a benevolent spirit had entered her and touched 
her soul with magic. Nor did she object when he slipped his arm around her 
shoulder, drawing her up to him until her left breast was flattened against 
the side of his chest. She blushed slightly when, squirming her buttocks 
deliciously to find a more comfortable position, the edge of the couch 
cushion brushed electrically against the soft folds of her vulvae, sending a 
sudden charge of warm pleasure up her vaginal passage and into the pit of 
her stomach. 

"Say, would you be kind enough to get me a drink? I think I'd like to try a 
whole one by myself." Mauley rose, starting for the kitchen, but was stopped 
in route by a short fat man who was obviously a treasured friend. They 
chatted a moment, then left for another part of the house without looking 
back. Dolores was crestfallen and in the process of thinking of an excuse to 
leave the party, when a man's voice cut into her thoughts. 

"Here, little lady, cheer up and drink this," the cowboy said, handing her a 
fresh water tumbler filled almost to overflowing with the green-tinted 
punch. "It's more practical, I always say, to find the biggest damned glass 
in the house and save yourself a lot of runnin' back and forth to the 
source. Now, about old Mauley, you shouldn't let that bugger get under your 
skin. I was watchin' you from across the room." Seating himself where Mauley 
had been, the rugged-looking man thrust forward his own tall glass in the 
manner of a toast. "What do you say we drink to everlasting friendship? 
Hell, that's about as imbecilic as most toasts." 

Dolores found herself liking this peculiarly handsome stranger, the carefree 
way he spoke and tossed off his drink as naturally as though it were plain 
water. Yet, she also sensed an intelligent, highly emotional quality in his 
youthful but deeply lined face. 

"May I ask what you do for a living?" she ventured, immediately sorry for 
asking what would almost certainly seem to him an absurd question. 

"Well, yes, you may. I make most of my money," he began in a tone bordering 
on seriousness, "as a Communist infiltrator on American college campuses. 
And I sell dope and birth control pills to teenagers on street corners, in 
front of schools. I'm a private detective, a legal secretary, and own a 
dating service for nuns, the latter which I operate only when I'm not 
bewildering hostile literary critics with immortal poems I write on the way 
to my thriving hairnet factory in South Africa ... Now, as for my assets, I 
have sufficient solvency to loan Hugh Hefner-" 

"Oh please stop-this instant!" Dolores howled, tears of laughter streaking 
her cheeks with mascara. Burying her face in his muscular shoulder to stifle 
her giggles, she reached up to muffle his mouth with her hand. 

After their laughter had abated and neither of them had strength left for 
more than an occasional titter, they permitted their eyes to meet and 
suggest more than mere levity. The exotic, deceptively sweet cocktails, 
combined with her new-found friend's easygoing style and the increasingly 
erotic character of the party around her, disposed the young girl to an 
attitude of all-out adventure. Laughing anew, she cuddled up to his muscular 
shoulder and pointed to the members of the combo who had stripped to the 
waist and were playing individually here and there about the room. Several 
attractive women were dancing by themselves, swaying and rocking to the 
primitive beat of the music. 

Turning to face her companion, Dolores screwed her face into an accusatory 
glower, and asked, "Hey! what's your name? How do I know you're not really a 
Communist?" 

"My name is Bill ... plain Bill," he said, wrestling her in for a hug to 
reward his simple, honest answer. She melted closer, her spectacular chest 
pressing firmly into his. Then he kissed her lingeringly on the mouth and 
dropped one hand to rest hotly on her knee. 

She's a hot little bitch, he thought, moving his hand carefully up her thigh 
to the hem on her skirt. Kissing her neck, he fully relaxed the arm around 
her shoulders and draped his hand on the upper swell of her breast. The 
prospect of a sure score emboldened him as he began to lightly massage the 
top of her breast with his fingertips ... She was not resisting. Instead, 
she seemed to regard his familiarity with her an almost casual thing, an 
understanding between them, and drank her over-size cocktail even as his 
hand strayed down to fully cup her luxuriant chest. 

Excusing himself with a promise to return right away, he rose and made his 
way through the others to find Terry. She was in the dimly-lighted dining 
area adjacent to the kitchen, doing the Frug with a skinny, balding man who 
wore only a pair of black boxer shorts splotched with white flowers. Her 
eyes were glazed, faraway, and she threw forward her hips as if aiming at 
the skinny man's crotch. 

"Hey, hot pants, I'd like to chat a second," Bill the cowboy broke in. 

"Sure, what's on your mind-as if I didn't know. But first," Terry said as 
she finally turned to face him, "I'd like to introduce you to Fred Hillary. 
This virile tiger of a man works with Eric and says he wants to 'throw the 
meat' to me, a phrase he seems to have picked up in high school. Right, 
Fred?" Fred agreed with a supercilious drunken grin and advanced on Terry, a 
pencil-like protrusion tenting his flamboyant shorts. 

"Hang on a minute there, horse, I'd like to see the lady alone before your 
unprecedented sexiness bowls her off her feet." Dragging her by the arm to 
the nearest corner, he grinned and continued: "Christ, you that hard up? ... 
But listen, I'm going to fuck that sweet young gal with the mountainous 
tits, and I'm thinkin' this might be the best place right here. So, would 
you mind takin' your big bull and screwin' where that poor little innocent 
gal can't witness such goings-on?" 

"What's in it for me?" Terry asked only half-teasingly. 

"Man, you've already fucked Julie's husband to a frazzle, and now you've got 
little flower-drawers here all hot to trot. Shit, girl, save something for 
the other broads." 

Terry smiled wickedly to herself as the broad-shouldered cowboy passed out 
of the room and into the kitchen, where he delayed long enough to find two 
passably clean glasses and fill them from the punch bowl. 

Dolores was sitting where he had left her, only now her gestures and overall 
appearance indicated that she was even drunker and less than ever in control 
of herself. He took her hand and led her rather unsteadily to the kitchen 
and back into the shadowy dining area. There, he gently urged her to sit 
with him on the thickly-carpeted floor, handing her the fresh cocktails to 
free his hands and remove his jacket. She studied his face admiringly, 
cherishing his every move and wondering what such a clever, handsomely built 
man, a poet he had said, could find of value in her. She must be in love, 
she decided, because no other man, real or imaginary, had so warmed and 
wakened her sensually ... Her breasts pulsed in time with her heart beat, 
the nipples unbearably hard and itching to be touched. 

He kissed her again, almost too tenderly to fill her craving for his mouth, 
and then ... he kissed her again, harder ... and again and again, each 
contact more demanding and forcing her toward the floor. When they were 
stretched full-length beside each other, he nipped her ear and renewed his 
seductive explorations of her billowy heaving bosom. She stiffened 
reflexively as he seized one of the tingling pink nipples between his thumb 
and forefinger, rolling and pinching it to shoot arrows of pleasure and pain 
along her quivering nerves. She was vaguely astonished by what he was doing, 
but lay passively savoring the titillating fondling of her sensitive 
breasts. His hand moved down to her thigh again, his fingers lightly tracing 
the silky inner flesh as they worked up beyond the top of her stocking to 
within an inch or so of her moistening cuntal opening. 

"Relax, open your legs a little," the cowboy breathed softly into her ear. 
His hand strayed higher as he uttered the words. 

"I can't ... I shouldn't," she moaned even as she felt her thighs yielding 
to make herself more vulnerable. He ran his middle finger over the lips of 
her tightly closed vaginal slit and felt the sticky wetness of her nylon 
panties. With his other hand he was working steadily at the buttons on the 
front of her blouse, opening them one by one, kissing each new exposure of 
her cleavage and at the same time cautiously slipping her bra straps off her 
shoulders. Protesting, she strained closer to him, her mind losing the 
battle with her body. She could feel the hardness of his penis digging into 
her outer thigh as his hips rocked, frightening but exciting her to 
delirious soarings of sexual desire. 

"Oh, Bill, I love you, I love you!" 

The cowboy responded by ripping open her blouse to the waist and jerking off 
her bra to fully reveal the full white spheres that had been driving him mad 
all evening. With a base animal groan he leaned over her and began to suck 
and bite voraciously at the stiff, light brown nipples. When she tried 
vainly to escape the sudden invasion of her purity, he wormed a hand under 
her buttocks and pulled at the moistened crotch of her panties until they 
gave. 

"Oh please no! ... I love you ... Not this way!" she cried. Shifting his 
weight on her to pin her flat, he parted the fine pubic hairs lining her 
pussy and slid one finger into the slippery pink passage. Then, clamping his 
mouth on hers, he rolled the struggling girl on her side and freed her 
partially from the remaining shreds of her blouse and bra. Rolling her over 
again on her other side, he stripped away the last of her upper garments and 
yanked her flimsy skirt down over her thighs and ankles and finally free of 
her feet. She gasped and whimpered for mercy when his finger inched deeper 
into her helpless cunt, slowly and expertly insinuating into her in an 
effort to loosen her in preparation for the entrance of his giant organ. She 
could not escape and lay back to experience her fear and sense of debasement 
change to divine rapture. Her hands were tangled in his long brown hair, 
pulling his head greedily to her huge breasts. 

Dolores began an involuntary swaying and humping motion to match that of the 
cowboy's as he grated his cock against her hot pubic hair, removing his hand 
to clutch her hip and pace her gyrating rhythm to suit himself. His thick, 
lust-hardened cock rubbed teasingly over her clitoris, the scarlet head 
grinding further and further into the lubricated flanges until it began to 
spread the still-resisting band of her almost virginal young pussy. Nothing 
in the world had seemed so good, so gloriously consuming, and she wished 
suddenly that he would end her crazy agony of longing and fill her lewdly 
tingling vagina for good. Then there was a great stretching feeling in her 
loins as though the passion-puffed lips of her cunt were being pulled 
asunder, and she felt the long swollen trunk of his prick slither into her 
soft interior like a searching snake. The heavy weight of his lower body 
crashed into her groin, imbedding him in her brutally, sending unwanted 
jolts of exquisite sensuality through her entire being. She began to 
undulate her body under him, levering herself up on her elbows to meet his 
lunges and bury the beautiful hose into her as far as possible. 

"Oh more, more!" she screamed, urging him to piston into her faster and 
harder. He gritted his teeth and fucked in and out with wild, driving 
thrusts that bowed his body grotesquely at the peak of the in-stroke. 

He clutched at the cheeks of her pillowy, unresisting ass with inhuman 
strength, his fingernails clawing into her, hurting her, as she tried 
futilely to keep up with his furious, mindless fucking. 

Dolores did not sense the presence of the others in the room, nor even the 
brightness of the overhead light Terry had switched on when she was certain 
that the impassioned young woman was beyond awareness of any change around 
her. The half dozen guests there in the doorway and seated next to the 
wildly fucking couple were too engrossed in viewing the stimulating 
performance to talk or create any distracting disturbance. One couple, 
neighbors of Terry's, was kneeling within a foot of Dolores' head, their 
eyes glued to the pair's heated writhing as though spellbound. Her arms 
around the waists of two stark naked men, Terry leaned back on the wall just 
to the right of the entrance, her gaze fixed intently on Dolores' blind, 
shut eyes. Mauley stood nearby, his cock out, jerking off like a depraved 
lunatic as his own eyes took in the main show and tried simultaneously to 
absorb the expressions of everyone else in the room. 

Still unaware of the audience, Dolores twitched and bucked uncontrollably as 
she muttered encouragement to her lover and relished the pumping, punishing 
instrument's ramming against her cervix. The cowboy's lust was approaching 
its peak, tiny devils of fire seething in his pendulous swinging balls. 

And then it happened-the spastic last heaves of completion that drove him 
into her deeper than ever, his long lance goring her, spewing his hot cum 
into her clasping cunt in great lava-like gushes. 

"Nooooo! Nooooo, pleeease! Wait, darling, wait for me too!" she sobbed in 
pitiful frustration. But it was useless. She squeezed her hips up against a 
waning penis, the cock that had fucked her to a mind-shattering crest and 
then betrayed her by deflating within seconds of her own cumming. She 
pounded desperately with her fists on Bill's perspiring back, but he rolled 
off her unfulfilled body with a sigh of exhaustion to lie beside her. 

She was crazier than ever with desire, the end so near and yet so far. She 
kicked her legs wide out in the air, her own fingers ineffectually 
manipulating the throbbing open slit between her thighs. She dug into 
herself, trying to reach the depths where a moment before the now-vanquished 
prick had probed. 

Then, out of nowhere, strong hands seized her wrists and pulled back her 
arms as other hands pried her thighs wider apart. She felt a ravenous 
sucking mouth on one breast, a clammy piggish hand clamped on the other. She 
gasped as the combined assault of hands and mouth on her body began slowly 
to register in her mind. Timidly, she opened her eyes and took in what was 
happening. 

Cocks, balls, mouths, hands, everywhere, all over her, squeezing and 
sucking! Her cowboy lover was halfway across the room, lying on his stomach, 
his head cradled in his arms, panting. 

"Come on, baby, I'll finish what that big fake couldn't," the balding, 
skinny man slurred as he wormed his voyeur-hardened penis in her hungrily 
up-thrust cunt. 

"Ram it to her, boy," Terry said, waving his black and white shorts like a 
"Go" flag at the start of a race. 

"Yeah-yeah," Mauley murmured, stumbling up to aim his spurting cock at her 
face. Dolores licked her lips to taste all she could with her tongue of the 
lumpy foam that had landed there. One of the men had taken command of her 
chest and straddled her while he shoved his oozing penis obscenely between 
her solid creamy tits, his rough hands pressing them together to form a hot 
deep crevice. The anonymous man pinioning her arms to the floor released her 
only to wind his fingers in her hair and force her head to one side, 
plunging his un-circumcised cock into her mouth with unbridled force. The 
men, fully aware of their total conquest and mastery of the girl's mind and 
body, regarded the penetration of her mouth as an invitation to accelerate 
their communal use of her and intermingled in a symphony of feral 
abandonment. 

Dolores screamed at the top of her lungs as orgasm after orgasm broke and 
flowed through her. Her legs were drawn back and locked around the neck of 
the skinny man, whose seed was spilling into her in hot torrid spurts. The 
man fucking into her mouth also exploded, filling her throat with the wet 
sticky liquid, expanding her cheeks to the bursting point as she gulped 
frantically in an effort not to lose a drop of the precious deposit. Thin 
streams ran from the corners of her mouth when he fell away from her, his 
limp cock slipping lifelessly from her still sucking mouth. 

She placed her own hands over those of the man who was still holding 
together her enormous breasts, helping him tighten her supple orbs around 
his rock-hard penis still stabbing up and down within inches of her chin. 
His moment arrived with a violent lunge, the first shooting wad of his 
pungent sperm landing on her chin to dribble down onto her throat and be 
drawn back in strings that mingled with the rest of his load spilling 
between her tits. The brown aureoles of her nipples were slick with the 
diamond-bright substance. 

She screwed her pelvis up against the lifeless member still in her cunt, 
then collapsed back on the floor as the cock slipped uselessly from her 
sperm drenched pussy, draughts of cool air rushing refreshingly into the 
unstoppered opening. 

Dolores could not think or even bring herself to move. She stared at the 
ceiling, unaware of the others, her lips and hair smeared with the glutinous 
wetness of cum, her thighs still shining where two men had pumped themselves 
to climax. She felt lower than the most shameless whore, beyond repentance, 
uncaring. 

Then she remembered Bill, the carefree poet, her lover ... Turning on her 
side, she canvassed the room, her dulled vision resting on him ... He lay as 
though in coma where she had last seen him, on his stomach, his superbly 
brawny form sprawling like a toppled statue. 

"Bill...," she called out weakly, expecting him to rise miraculously and 
erase all that had happened, the violations of her body, her nakedness, the 
sordid bliss she had felt as all those men obscenely fucked and manipulated 
her to crescendos of beautiful orgasm. 

"He's out cold, baby, so don't trouble yourself," Terry's voice filtered in 
from somewhere in the room. Dolores looked to where the voice seemed to be 
coming from and saw the woman sitting nude with a man's head in her lap. 
Terry's chin was also glistening with still moist cum. 

* * * 

"Goodnight, Fred ... We'll see you soon, Betty," Julie said to her last 
departing guests. Eric was not able to share in the responsibility of 
bidding their guests goodbye. He was passed out on the bed in the guest 
room, still dressed and with his shoes on, snoring happily while he dreamed 
of his adulterous interlude with the hot-blooded friend of his wife. 

Julie had not mentioned to him that she knew of his infidelity with their 
neighbor. How could she? As a matter-of-fact, she felt a little relieved and 
self-justified, her own unfaithfulness at the studio now seeming less 
criminal. Yet, it greatly perturbed her that her closest friend would seduce 
Eric (as must have been the case) behind her back. And worse yet was the 
fact that he had succumbed to Terry's appeal even though he rarely showed 
sexual interest in her, his own wife. 

She climbed slowly back up the stairs and entered the kitchen. It was a 
shambles, empty bottles, broken glasses, trays littered with half-eaten 
sandwiches and cigarette butts, someone's forgotten suit coat and tie draped 
over the back of a chair ... And the crystal punch bowl in the center of the 
breakfast table, a crack in it running from the rim down to the center of 
the bottom, where a few pieces of lemon rind lay in a puddle of green 
liquid. 

Her original intention had been to dive in and clean up the major portion of 
the mess, but she was overwhelmed by fatigue, the strain of the evening 
having taken its toll on her physically and emotionally. Anyway, Mauley had 
promised that her visit the next day would not require much of her. He 
hinted that most of his time would be occupied with "a new model," that the 
session would probably take less than an hour of Julie's time. 

She found herself trying to imagine the new model, if indeed he had 
scheduled an interview with Dolores. The girl had left early, looking badly 
battered and with tear-stains on her cheeks. She had thanked Julie for the 
party and left with her arm around the cowboy's waist, the two of them 
weaving. His low sleek Jaguar was still parked where he had left it after 
the drive to the liquor store-across the street and two houses down from 
Dolores' ... Evidently the rumors she had heard about Dolores and the 
hard-drinking cowboy were true. But she had also heard that her young friend 
had conducted herself in an unbelievable fashion with several other guests, 
indulging in sex play with them that Julie knew would horrify Dolores had 
she been sober. Strangely enough, though, she thought as she undressed in 
the bathroom, she too had felt erotic urges all evening, and had wished that 
the party was another studio session ... and that she could participate in 
one of Mauley's thrilling studio settings there in the house, her role 
licensed as "art" and business. Yes, she decided, probably even the 
supra-moral Dolores had broken loose and enjoyed the sexual advances of 
other men. 

Julie experienced a pang of guilt, feeling thankful that Eric was too drunk 
to move from the other bed, that she would have some time to herself to 
think before she dropped off to sleep. 

 CHAPTER TEN 

"Jesus Christ, kid, haven't you got anything to drink in this place? I've 
looked high and low while you've been lying there dreaming about your debut 
last night." 

Dolores peered up at the naked man standing over her, his long limp codpiece 
dangling before her eyes. She was too sleep-drugged and hung over at first 
to be alarmed at the presence of a man in her bedroom. Then, as 
consciousness came to her, she recognized the cowboy who had fucked her the 
night before ... and a shudder coursed through her aching body. 

"What are you doing here-how--? " 

"How, hell, baby! You convinced us both we're in love ... Last night. You 
took my keys, remember? ... Look, I'll settle for a good belt of whatever 
you've got in the house-and I'll be on my way." 

Dolores rolled away to escape the impatience in his eyes, sobbing miserably 
and not caring that the sheet had fallen from her back and full rounded 
buttocks. "How could you? ... How could worry about a drink ... after last 
night?" she managed to ask between heartbreaking wails of shame and 
disappointment. 

"Look, I'll make you a deal," the cowboy offered. "You tell me where you've 
got the booze stashed ... and we'll sit down and talk about last night. I'd 
like nothing better. But by God, it's just because of last night that I need 
a stiff drink before we talk about it." He sat on the edge of the bed and 
gently stroked her back to demonstrate his sincerity. Finally, her sobs 
petering out to sniffles, she turned to him and spoke: 

"There's ... some ... sherry ... in the cabinet ... over the stove." Then, 
after a moment's pause, she added, "I think I'd like some ... to calm me." 

Returning from the kitchen with a nearly empty bottle, he sat again and 
poured a small portion into a juice glass, then handed it to her with a 
broad smile. 

"I-I thought there was more ... The bottle was almost full." 

"Well, now don't you fret yourself, honey. I had a taste in the kitchen. 
About last night,...." he said with a sweeping gesture that was meant to 
include the surrounding neighborhood. "I'd just try to forget the whole 
damned thing." 

"But-but you said you loved me!" she wailed miserably. 

"Sure, sure I love you. And you're one helluva good lay, too." She flinched 
and buried her face in the pillow as the gross, humiliating words sank-into 
her mind. Vivid fragments of her role in the dining room incident flashed 
back to her, making her half sick with converging feelings of guilt and 
remorse. Suddenly, though, those feelings were replaced with savage 
point-blank anger, and she sat up rigidly in bed, her huge lush breasts 
bursting into view as she pivoted on her naked buttocks to stare hatefully 
at him. 

"Well," she stormed, "Wasn't that what you wanted-a good lay? Wasn't it? And 
wasn't I? Oh, but that's right-you were too drunk to know. Maybe you'd 
better ask the others who fucked me silly while you were passed out ... They 
know, they'll tell you!" 

"She spat out the words clearly and distinctly, her voice shaking with rage 
only toward the last, as fierce tears of indignation filled her eyes. 

"Okay, lover, you taught me," she shouted, her voice breaking, "and now I'm 
ready for anything!" 

Stunned by her outburst, the cowboy started to speak but was interrupted. 
She had risen to her knees and threw away the sheet from her dense "v" of 
pubic hair, thrusting her fleshy hips at him with obscene defiance. 

"What's the matter?" she howled. "Don't you want to SCREW me? Or shall I 
find someone downtown-or maybe at the studio?" 

"You crazy little bitch, you think because you got fucked by a few cocks 
last night, you're all whore now ... Fuck you, I'm fond of you, sure, but 
you're too damned stupid to know what love is! I'll see you," he waved, 
rising to go, "-and thanks for the sherry...." 

"No, don't go ... I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she called out as he slammed the 
front door. "I love you! ... I really do!" 

A moment later she heard the snarling whine of the Jaguar pacing through 
gear changes as it tore up the street, the sound growing dimmer and dimmer 
as though symbolizing her diminishing hope for a new life. 

"But his keys ... I have his keys," she cried. She flew out of bed and raced 
to the closet in the hall, withdrawing the coat she had worn to the party. 
Digging frantically in the pockets, she sighed with a mixture of relief and 
befuddlement when her fingers closed on the gold chain laden with an 
assortment of keys. 

"Then I can find him at Mr. Mauley's studio, this afternoon?" Dolores asked, 
trying to camouflage her eagerness as she jotted down the address Julie gave 
her from the other end of the line. "I'd be over to help clean up, but he'll 
probably need his keys, although I can't imagine how he ever got home ... 
last night ... without them. Can you?" 

"No, I can't," Julie agreed. "How do you feel this morning." 

"Fine, just fine!" 

"I wish I could say the same for Eric," Julie said. "He was awfully confused 
this morning ... Barely made it to work." 

"Yes, I suppose everybody got a little drunk. Even me." 

"Well," Julie consoled, "I'd have joined you, but I couldn't break away from 
my hostess duties long enough to get involved in anything. Norma-you know, 
the girl who went topless-was helping me serve, but it seems she got 
sidetracked with Eric's boss and forgot herself." 

"A lot of us did," Dolores said softly. "Anyway, thanks again for the 
address and the party. I'll try to come over tomorrow." 

"You mean you're not going to stay for your interview with Les? I'll see you 
there, won't I?" 

Dolores was silent as she struggled futilely to puzzle together the meaning 
of Julie's question. Had she committed herself to Mauley as well as made a 
fool of herself with the cowboy and the other men? 

"It depends," Dolores answered cryptically. "I've got to hurry. Goodbye." 

Julie stared quizzically into the buzzing telephone receiver, the curtness 
of the girl's leave-taking like a slap in the face. 

Dolores rubbed herself briskly with the thick towel after her shower, 
patting powder under her arms and inside her thighs. Her body glowed with a 
peachy tint from the hard hot spray she had trained on herself to cleanse 
away whatever remained from last night's orgy. Stepping in front of the 
mirror, she sucked in her breath at the sight of the welts and blue-red 
discolorations on her breasts and marking the otherwise faultless skin just 
above her downy hillock parted with the sensitive red slit of her vagina. 
Her breasts were sore, not as they usually were from the sheer sag of their 
weight, but deeper in, where the muscles had been torn by the hands of men 
she had never seen previous to the encounter in the dining room. And there 
was a bruise between them that started above her navel and extended up to 
her collarbone. 

She thought again of Bill's tenderness and the flurry of poignant kisses he 
had lavished on her the evening before, before lust had dazed and inflamed 
them both. Despite his crass behavior that morning, she was certain that he 
was just as lonely and starved for affection as she, even though at this 
point he was not inclined to admit it ... But she could never excuse the 
cruelty Terry had shown in inviting the others to witness her lovemaking 
with the cowboy. Nor could she ever forgive the outrageous rape of her 
newly-aroused body by the three strange men, much less the fact that she had 
lost control and actually contributed wantonly to her own debasement. 

She dressed with extra care, hoping wistfully that her dress was chic and 
would appeal to Bill's taste. 

 CHAPTER ELEVEN 

Dolores entered the waiting room to Mauley's studio a little after one 
o'clock. Norma had shown her in very graciously and had made no reference to 
the party. She had assured the nervous girl that Bill was inside, "working" 
on a short sequence with one of the other models, and that he would be out 
as soon as possible. 

Just as Dolores was settling back into the opulently upholstered black 
leather chair, preparing herself to wait as long as she must for the 
appearance of her new lover, the door opened and Mauley sauntered in. 

"So, you made up your mind to come after all?" he chuckled, seating himself 
on the broad arm of her chair. His eyes bubbled like cold green stars as he 
straightened his ascot and bestowed upon her his most winning expression of 
cheer. 

"Actually, I'm here to see Bill ... to return his keys," she explained, her 
confidence flagging under the older man's intense examination of her plush 
young body. He seemed not to have heard her at all, and leered instead, 
remembering her delicious contortions as she endured the subjugating hands 
and cocks of the cowboy and the three other men on Julie's dining room 
floor. 

"Why, of course you'll see Bill," he winked, "but first, my dear, let's 
finish the discussion we started last evening. I'm terribly sorry we were 
interrupted, but that man, the short heavy gentleman you saw me wander off 
with at the party, is one of my most generous clients ... But I know you 
understand, now that you've met him on such intimate terms." 

Dolores shivered as the full import of his words dawned on her. Surely the 
fat man had been one of the three who had debauched her while Lester Mauley 
watched and masturbated himself to orgasm. 

"Are you really interested in helping others?" Mauley asked, resting his 
hand on her shoulder with a show of indifference. "Julie told me you've been 
active in social work, so my question is probably academic. However," he 
continued, "I can't take chances in my business. I've got to be certain that 
my employees are willing...." He began to knead her shoulder, the pressure 
of his fingers increasing as he leaned the weight of his thigh against her 
dimpled, stockinged knee. She turned her head away, so that she would not 
have to look at his snickering face, knowing that his eyes were fastened to 
the swell of her large, taut breasts. 

Shifting himself closer to her, suddenly he caught her head in his hand and 
crushed her face to his. She let out a pleading cry as he tilted back her 
head and crashed down his mouth on hers, his searing tongue forcing its way 
between her teeth to lick and stab into the recesses of the sweet wet 
cavern. With his other hand he clutched at her heaving bosom, mashing the 
resilient mounds with his palm and then clutching anew, pulling them one at 
a time as though to uproot them. 

"Stop it, stop it, you filthy animal!" she shrieked. Then he jammed his 
forearm into her throat, pushing her solidly back into the chair and 
lowering his head to one up-thrust breast. He gnawed ferociously at the 
nipple, opening and closing his mouth on the shrinking pink tip under her 
bra and the worsted fabric of her dress. She went rigid beneath him, 
gathering all her strength, and jerked away, screaming as the pain of 
wrenching loose from his teeth sent currents of agony through her chest. 

"You dumb fucking cunt!" he bellowed. "Do you think I don't know you, how 
hot you really are beneath that phony school-girl exterior? Come here, 
then," he said, pointing to an enormous mirror as he strode up to the wall 
facing the studio inside, "I'll show you something!" 

She saw him press what was apparently a lever on the bottom section of the 
frame. "Are you willing to cooperate now?" he asked as the reflection in the 
mirror changed to a clear view of the interior of the studio. Dolores rose 
to her feet, sucking in her breath at the shocking exhibition she beheld. 

Bill, the cowboy, her able-bodied inamorato, was positioned between her 
friend and neighbor Julie's legs, his stiff glistening rod sliding easily in 
and out of her friend's thrashing cunt. Julie was lying on her back, on the 
only table in the room, with her hands clasped behind her neck in an 
attitude of depraved surrender. 

"This is a practice session," Mauley said, lighting a cigarette. "As you 
see, there are no cameras ... They're rehearsing, you might say, for one of 
my more private episodes." 

Dolores said nothing and watched with incredulity as Bill skewered Julie 
more violently, pounding into her unmercifully with his inflated cock. They 
were out of their minds, fucking harder and faster as their greed for each 
other drove them on. Julie seemed to be shouting lewd encouragement to him 
through clenched teeth. She was begging him to ram into her hot, wide-open 
hole and to fill her slim belly with cum. She was reveling in his riddling 
of her cunt and bucked up against him like a true whore to drain every last 
ounce of his energy with the sucking hair-lined flanges of her vagina. 
Dolores watched with abject fascination. 

She was only remotely aware of Mauley's naked prick creeping up under her 
skirt behind her to nuzzle under the down-curve of her buttocks, working 
like a hungry mouse up into the crevice protected by the thin film of her 
panties. She reached behind her to discourage any further invasion of her 
buttocks and accidentally encountered his soft, hair covered balls with her 
fingertips. At the contact, an expression of lecherous elation came over his 
face, his penis jerking to greater hardness. He pushed his free hand roughly 
down the front of her dress and cupped one lush breast, delighting in the 
fact that the massive, bra-clad globe was too large to encompass with only 
one of his hands. Dolores' struggles to escape his hand and probing cock 
grew less as she once again became absorbed in watching the sound fucking 
Bill was giving Julie. They were in the beginning throes of orgasm and 
screwed against each other like berserk demons. 

"He's fucking your best friend, isn't he?" Mauley said breathlessly. "And 
they're both liking it, aren't they?" 

Dolores said nothing but continued to watch, stunned, still not wholly 
believing what she witnessed. The cowboy had lifted Julie's firm, creamy 
legs and spread them as wide apart as they would go. Then she saw her 
treacherous neighbor's mouth fly open, as though pantomiming a scream, and 
drive her groin up tightly against the cowboy's just as his hammering rod 
jerked forward and began spurting his sperm into the deep, passion loosened 
cunt. She was horror-stricken at the sight of Julie's trim white buttocks 
contracting uncontrollably, signaling her own orgiastic upheaval deep in her 
thrashing belly. Thick white liquid oozed from her quivering pussy as it 
mercilessly squeezed at the cowboy's prick; thin trails of the sticky white 
semen ran down into the exposed valley nestling Julie's tight puckered anus. 

"Well now, don't you wish his hot cum were leaking out of your cunt, my 
dear? Now don't you?" Mauley asked, grinning lasciviously as he took 
advantage of the girl's shock and quickly unzipped the back of her dress 
without her knowing. "Incidentally, love, this is a two-way mirror, so 
neither of your trusted friends can see you ogling them." 

"Oh God, God, God ... How could they?" Dolores moaned, biting her lower lip 
as she observed Bill dismount Julie, gleaming strings of cum and cunt juice 
clinging to his deflating member when he pulled out and staggered back a few 
steps from his still obviously aroused partner. 

"Now watch carefully, because the show isn't over, not by a long shot," 
Mauley informed. Still unaware of her partial nakedness, and now hardly 
caring that Mauley's erect penis had slipped under the elastic band of her 
panty-leg, Dolores saw the cowboy raise his hand in welcome to the two tall 
young Negroes who had walked into the room and stopped several yards away 
from the table where Julie lay waiting. The cowboy held a brief conference 
with them, then smiled and in lewd invitation extended his upturned hand 
toward the woman's open, pulsing pubic area. 

Dolores gulped and felt a rush of heat within her when she saw the size of 
the shorter black's sex organ. Good Lord, she thought, it must be bigger 
than Bill's, and it's still soft! Almost immediately she forgot her hurt and 
anger over Bill's betrayal of her with Julie. She watched with increasing 
excitement as the two men approached Julie, the tall man's cock already hard 
and jutting out like a long black poker, while the other's thick, 
heavily-veined organ swung pendulously from side to side with his every 
step. 

Fear registered on Julie's face when she realized that the depleted cowboy 
had deserted her to stand across the room and watch the two Negroes circle 
her menacingly, like big cats stalking helpless prey. Unexpectedly, the 
taller man seized her wrists and held them fast to the table while his 
accomplice wound his strong fingers in her hair, forcing her face into his 
wiry pubic thatch. He rubbed the blunt knob-end of his growing prick on her 
cheeks and along the edges of her mouth, his hips straining forward as he 
yanked ruthlessly at her closest breast to lever her body up to the edge of 
the shaking table. Then, arching his back, he penetrated her mouth with his 
monstrous black shaft, stretching her lips thin and bloating her cheeks even 
though the instrument was far from being as rock-hard as the other man's. 

Dolores felt a blending of regret and relief when the man fucking himself to 
total stiffness in Julie's wide-stretched mouth, stopped ... for no apparent 
reason. Mesmerized, she pressed up to the glass to catch every nuance and 
detail of their movements. The black stud Julie had been sucking had pulled 
out his cock and was helping the other man bully their captive to her feet. 
Then the shorter Negro seated himself on the edge of the table, his now 
fully hard prick sticking up several inches above his navel like an oiled 
ebony cannon ready to fire. They worked with team-like efficiency and 
muscled the squirming Julie up onto the table, her thighs straddling the 
seated man's loins. The latter hoisted her hips higher and plunged his thick 
pulsing cock halfway into her, pushing the unresisting moist flesh of her 
pussy in rippling waves before its cruel searching head. 

Julie's back tensed at the quick brutal impalement, then relaxed as she 
slithered down to wetly devour with her open cunt the last remaining section 
of the hardened rod of flesh. The man still standing moved in then and dug 
his fingers into Tier soft white hips, elevating her round buttocks to a 
level with his own bursting black organ. Holding it, he aimed the glistening 
instrument at the tightly clenched ring of her anus and leaned in until its 
mushrooming head touched her. He rubbed it in slow teasing circles around 
the opening and pressed steadily in, finally planting the first two-thirds 
of the bulbous tip inside her stinging rectum. When he had pierced a few 
inches into her, he slapped the bottom man on his thigh and mumbled 
something. 

"That's the signal-that's the signal!" Mauley yelled. "It's the full 
sandwich treatment from here on in ... How do you like that, eh? Don't you 
think that would feel heavenly, you big-titted bitch, to have two hard dicks 
fucking into you at once?" 

"I ... Oh, yes! ... I want it too, please!" Dolores begged as her 
lust-driven companion snaked up her dress over her full-mooned buttocks and 
stripped her moistened panties down to her ankles. She quickly kicked out of 
them and ground back against the blood-engorged cock wedging into the upper 
depths of the crevice between her gyrating buttocks. But Mauley stepped back 
a little and dropped to his knees behind her, prying open her ass-cheeks as 
he jammed his face between them, covering her anus with his suctioning 
mouth. His long hot tongue flicked out and into her virginal ass-hole, 
rolling and twisting inside her until she thought she would faint from utter 
ecstasy. 

"Watch them fucking her! ... Watch!" Mauley commanded, diving back to renew 
his tonguing and sucking of the girl's lewdly working back passage. 

Her head whirled with brainless sensuality when she managed to focus again 
on the threesome in the studio. Julie's full white buttocks were pried open 
wider than ever now, the pair of huge black pricks fucking with alternating 
rhythm into her incredibly expanded ass and cunt holes. Dolores thrilled 
with each of their thrusts into Julie's body, watching enthralled as the 
standing man's great sperm-loaded sacs swayed at the base of his 
pile-driving tube, smacking into the bottom man's balls with every 
animal-like lunge. 

Oh, if only ... if only, Dolores yearned, taking a wide stance to permit 
Mauley's mouth and tongue to forge greater pleasure at his will. She hated 
and envied Julie, but now not for having been fucked by Bill ... She wanted 
to be in her place, to have those thick shiny black rods sliding beautifully 
in and out of her, filling her, spreading the sensitive walls of her own 
passages. She could almost feel Julie's fantastic frenzy as the stud 
skewering into her cunt and pulled with angry sucking motions of his mouth 
on her friend's wildly jiggling tits. 

Dolores' dreams were brought to a halt when she cried at the entrance of 
Mauley's spit-wet penis into her own tight, resisting rectum. Her brow 
furrowed with anguish, and she struggled unsuccessfully against it, yet she 
was hesitant to chance losing what was at least half of the pleasure Julie 
was experiencing ... and so set her teeth to endure the initial discomfort. 
His hands were clutching both breasts from behind, his fingers occasionally 
pausing to pinch her rigid nipples until they stung. Even though her rectal 
passage was still wet from the shallow intrusions of his tongue, she was not 
prepared for this sadistic attack from the rear. Still, though, he pushed 
into her, the sphincter muscles around her anus closing on and swallowing 
more of his lustfully throbbing cock. She could not think ... the pain was 
so overwhelming! Tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks as the 
prick ventured deeper...."Christ, my blessed Christ! ... it's ... ooohhh ... 
yessss! Do it ... fuck me in there ... hard!" she groaned with the changing 
sensation of pain to weird pleasure. She began to hump backwards to meet the 
forward gaffing thrust of his loins. 

"Put your legs further out and watch them!" Mauley snapped. His rubbery cock 
head rode further into her ass, at last up to the stocky hilt, and he 
dropped one hand from her breasts to sensuously titillate her thrumming 
clitoris. Then, obeying him, she turned her attention anew to the trio 
inside on the crazily wobbling table. The black men were on the verge of 
emptying their sperm in Julie, their eyes rolled back, their teeth bared as 
they stroked into her with animal carnality. Julie wallowed obscenely, 
raising and lowering her hips to run every fraction of the last inch of 
their cocks into her belly. Suddenly Dolores saw both men stiffen almost 
simultaneously and begin a spasmodic jerking action as they shot hot gushing 
cum into Julie's ravaged ass-hole and cunt. Seeming torrents of the milky 
fluid flowed freely out of her and ran off their testicles, pooling and 
dripping off the table onto the floor. It was too much for Dolores to bear 
... She felt the tremor of her climax sweep through her and erupt 
volcanically in tumultuous spasms, causing her mind to reel, her knees to 
buckle. 

"Eeeeeeaaaahhhh! Aaaaggggghhhhh! ... Yesss, yessss!" she squealed as she 
felt the first convulsions of Mauley's orgasm matching her own. His 
rampaging lance redoubled its fury, sluicing in to her very depths and 
sending the contents of his balls splashing against the tender membranous 
inner wall separating her rectum from her cuntal passage. Gradually, the 
velocity of his slamming slowed to a lagging churning motion, until at last 
he staggered back from her, his dwindling penis slipping out of her no 
longer maidenly ass-hole with a slight popping sound. 

Dolores fell forward against the two-way mirror, the labored breathing from 
Mauley's ultimate exertion no heavier than her own exhausted panting. Then 
she looked inside again and saw that the two Negroes had risen and left the 
table to drape themselves over the couch, their chests heaving as they too 
tried to regain normal breathing. Julie was still on the table, now on her 
back, her legs wide-flung as she stared stuporously at the ceiling. Her 
sparse young cunt-hair was matted with semen, the reddened flanges of her 
cunt as raw and stretched open as was her anus. 

Dolores could no longer deny her sexual awakening, that she was now a real 
woman whose latent desire for men had been torturing her for years, warping 
her life, imprisoning her in a morality that was never really her own. Her 
father's rape of her had been her excuse to avoid the feverish urgency in 
her veins by becoming involved in clubs and church committees, none of which 
were really effective when it came to helping others. Both Julie and Mauley 
had stressed the importance of the work in the studio, that it was a dynamic 
way of helping people find themselves, bringing them together ... And 
certainly it would be fulfilling, personally fulfilling, work ... So ... why 
not? she asked herself as she adjusted her bra straps and, smiling sweetly, 
turned her back to Mauley. 

"Les, would you please zip me up?" 

"Why, of course, my dear-I'd be more than happy to help you in any way 
possible." Having dressed and recaptured his usual composure, Mauley placed 
his hand warmly on her shoulder and steadied her while he zipped up the back 
of her dress with his free hand. 

"Thank you," she said, still smiling, her expression softening even more as 
a new, wonderful hope fluttered in her breast. 

"I'm pleased, very pleased that you qualify for the work here," he grinned, 
"and now I hope you'll understand the advisability of your leaving before 
Julie comes out ... She might be-well-a bit threatened at seeing you here, 
especially since she'll be leaving with your friend Bill and the two other 
men...." 

"Oh no, she knew I was coming and-" Dolores faltered. 

"Never mind that," Mauley broke in, a good-natured gruffness in his voice. 
"Simply take my word for it." He reached inside his jacket and withdrew a 
sealed white envelope, then handed it to her. "This will interest you, I 
think." 

"But Bill's keys...." 

"If you'll give them to me, I promise I'll return them. And besides, you'll 
be seeing your new friend regularly." 

Dolores had been gone only a few minutes when the door to the studio opened 
and Julie entered, followed by Norma and the others. 

* * * 

"My God!" Dolores exclaimed when she opened the envelope outside on the 
street. "Four hundred dollars!" Shaking with anticipation, she unfolded the 
attached note. 

I'M VERY IMPRESSED BY YOUR WILLINGNESS TO HELP FURTHER OUR WORK. NEEDLESS TO 
SAY, YOU ARE PARTICULARLY WELL DISPOSED TO LEND BEAUTY AND FRESH PERSONALITY 
TO OUR MEDIA. PLEASE COME TO THE STUDIO AT TEN TOMORROW MORNING AND WEAR 
WHATEVER YOU LIKE. WE'RE ALL QUITE HAPPY TO HAVE YOU ABOARD.-LES. 

Julie sat dejectedly slouched in her seat as the bus rattled and groaned 
with the effort of pulling up Lombard Drive toward her home. In her left 
hand, she held a crumpled wad of hundred-dollar bills; in her other, the 
envelope containing the note Mauley had handed her as she left the studio. 
She read it again to make certain she had not misunderstood.... 

ENCLOSED IS THE FINAL PAYMENT FOR YOUR SERVICES. WE REGRET TO SAY THAT WE 
ARE DISCONTINUING THE SERIES IN WHICH YOU WERE FEATURED BUT SINCERELY HOPE 
THAT YOUR PARTICIPATION BENEFITED YOU ... ALSO, WE RECOMMEND YOUR CONTINUED 
DISCRETION REGARDING THE EXTENT OF YOUR DUTIES WHILE IN OUR EMPLOY. L. M. 

 CHAPTER TWELVE 

Julie had risen later than usual on the following morning. She had explained 
to Eric that she had slept poorly, fitfully, and would like to catch an 
extra hour or two of rest after his departure for the lab. Strangely enough, 
he had been sympathetic, insisting that she stay in bed as long as 
necessary-until noon if she liked. She had drifted off again soon after she 
heard his car drive away, then awakened shortly before ten o'clock, dressed 
hastily, and had gone to the bank to deposit her severance pay in the 
savings account she had opened. 

Now, at eleven-thirty, she was busily engaged in house-cleaning, a frown 
furrowing her brow as she tried desperately not to think of Lester Mauley, 
the studio, her friends, anything. She planned to prepare an excellent 
dinner for Eric and start being a genuine wife again, in all ways. 

But nothing was working. Her resolves faded into thoughts about herself, her 
failures as a woman and now ... even as a whore. For she had decided she 
was-or at least had been-a whore, as common as though she had walked the 
streets or been just another sweating floozy in some rank brothel on the 
wrong side of any town in America. Still, though, her feelings were not 
crystallized. She admitted to herself that she had felt pride, for earning 
the tidy sum now in the bank as well as for her performances at the studio. 
No one there had complained-not that she knew of-and yet Mauley had 
discharged her without a satisfactory reason. 

Then she recalled her consternation when he had told her that yesterday's 
session was not to be filmed, that it was a trial run to determine her " ... 
ability to relate with other races." She had been muddled by the absence of 
the cameras and by the fact that Norma had not been there with her pad, 
taking notes and whispering to Mauley. Most confusing, the cowboy had 
entered and instructed her to undress. "The boss said I'm supposed to warm 
you up," he had explained. And he had, oh how he had! Then the two Negroes, 
the heartless way they had used her, turning her blood to wildfire and 
driving her insane with rapture. They had even complimented her afterwards 
... And yet here she was, dismissed, not even worthy of whoredom. No wonder 
Eric was dissatisfied with her. 

"Honey, you home?" Terry yelled from the front landing. 

"Up here, Terry, in the kitchen." 

"I thought you were here. I saw your cat wandering around the back yard, and 
I know you always keep him in when you're away ... What's the matter-nothing 
happening at the studio today." 

"I don't know," Julie replied laconically. "I don't understand-I thought you 
and old money-bags were in the middle of filming The Greatest Show On Earth. 
He tired of sex or something? Or are you?" 

"Perhaps ... Yes, I think I am tired of sex ... and a lot of other things." 

"Oh, come on," Terry mocked, "don't tell me you're becoming your same silly 
self again, too much the moralist to enjoy yourself and make a pile of money 
too? What about your plan to please Eric?" 

"No, I'm not the same old Julie. You, of all people, should know that, 
Terry. Just as you seem to know what pleases my husband." She felt a wave of 
anger rising in her at the thought of Terry's betrayal with Eric on the 
night of the party. That, plus her disgrace yesterday at the studio, made 
her want to lash out vehemently at the cocky woman. 

"Jesus, baby, what's bothering you today?" 

"All right, I'll tell you what's bothering me, baby, if you really want to 
know ... The first thing is, I've been informed by your friend Mauley that 
I'm no longer needed as a whore at his so-called studio. Secondly, I'm sick 
to death of your phony brand of friendship. And lastly, ... I know all about 
you and Eric going to bed together, for what you probably called a 
'quickie', during the party ... That's what's bothering me, baby!'. ' At the 
conclusion of her outburst, Julie glared with hateful silence at Terry, who 
stared back in disbelief, amazed by the fire and loathing in her neighbor's 
usually placid eyes. 

"Julie! ... what on earth? ... Who told you we--? " 

"It's not important who told me," Julie interrupted. "What's important is 
that you did-you got fucked by my husband behind my back! I'm only wondering 
why you, the great sex expert, chose Eric. Why, baby, why Eric? Can't you 
land a real stud? Or is it that, when it comes down to the truth, you're all 
talk and afraid of opening your legs for someone really virile-someone who 
might discover that you're no bargain as a lay?" 

While sorry that Julie had learned of the infidelity with Eric, Terry could 
not countenance her angry friend's suggestion that she was afraid to take on 
a real man. The unfairness of it rankled her. To reassure herself, she 
thought back to the dozens of boys in college, the married men, the office 
executives, the sailors she had met in bars, all of whom had recognized her 
talent as a hot and easy piece. She would screw anyone, she had long ago 
decided, if he seemed her equal, was clean and looked intelligent enough to 
be uninhibited ... No, Julie was merely worried about Eric, his inability to 
get worked up at home. 

"Julie, listen to me," Terry began, "I confess that I went to bed with Eric 
... And I'm also sorry that your arrangement with Mauley fell through. But 
you're wrong about some things. As for Eric, he's a lot more man than I 
thought...." 

"Well, slut, you should know!" Julie snarled, galled by Terry's cool 
declaration of guilt. "However, there's one thing that baffles me. If you're 
such an almighty nympho, why haven't you taken advantage of the games at the 
studio?" 

"I've told you," Terry replied abruptly, "Jake brings in more than enough 
income to keep us comfortable." 

"You lie!" Julie shrieked, her face a deep crimson, her shoulders shaking 
with emotion. "Why don't you admit that Les knows you're a frigid bitch ... 
and doesn't want you? And neither does Jake, or he wouldn't make a point of 
staying on the road so much!" 

"Damn you, that's not true!" Terry yelled, losing the last shred of 
self-control. "Any man with sense wants me! Eric's been hot for my ass since 
you moved here! And when it comes to Les, you haven't a leg to stand on ... 
After all, he dumped you, didn't he?" 

"Terry, I think you'd better leave!" 

"You're damned right I'll leave-and right now!" Terry said as she stormed 
down the stairs. Turning at the door, she shot back at Julie: "But you're 
going to be sorry as hell you ever met me!" 

"I already am!" Julie retorted as the door slammed shut with a boom of 
finality. 

* * * 

An hour later, still steaming mad, Terry sat in her own kitchen with a tall 
glass of Scotch whiskey in front of her. She had been fighting her anger at 
Julie, trying to rationalize her way back to calmness, but had succeeded 
only in becoming more enraged as she pondered the accusations leveled at 
her. She had even attempted to telephone Jake at his hotel in San Francisco, 
but had been informed by the operator that he had not shown up to claim his 
reservation there. It was not like him, she mused as she sipped the Scotch, 
not like him at all to forget to cancel a reservation. He was too efficient, 
too much the enterprising businessman, to neglect even something so trivial 
as telephoning the hotel to say he would be delayed or was not coming. 

She checked the calendar on the wall beside the gas range, hoping that she 
had mixed up the days ... But no, she had been right: it was the 
twenty-third, two days after he said he would arrive in the city to meet 
with the board of directors of a large textile firm. Anyway, there was the 
uncancelled reservation itself. She wished she knew the name of the 
firm-then she could call and locate Jake. He was doubtless staying with one 
of the staff members. Of course, he had probably gone directly to the 
meeting, gotten drunk afterwards with someone-some executive or buyer-and 
had accepted the man's invitation to lodge at his house. That would account 
for everything, Terry decided, taking another healthy slug of Scotch to 
salute her ability as a logician ... But why had he failed to telephone her 
for almost a week? 

"Goddamn Julie!" she said aloud, surprising herself with her own voice. The 
bitch had actually ridiculed her, called her a "sex expert" and gone on to 
imply that Jake, her own husband, was using business as an excuse to avoid 
her. And as for Les, he had begged her to come to work for him-actually 
begged! She had declined, of course, because Jake would not have wanted her 
to waste herself on a lot of slavering idiots with big pricks. Not that she 
had ever asked for his opinion on the issue; she just knew.... 

Still, she had to be honest with herself. The very word "prick" sent sharp 
chills up and down her spine. Subsequent to Mauley's offer, she had been 
tempted to heed his urgings to come to the studio at least once to take in a 
filming session. He had tried to entice her with tales about his male 
models, saying that he rarely considered hiring a man with less than an 
above average endowment of sex equipment. She could take her choice, he had 
promised, any day. 

Even though she was riled, she could not hold down the giddy warmth that 
gulfed her when she envisioned hard or even limp male sex organs, with or 
without bodies and faces above them. Once, as she and Jake were recuperating 
from an especially rewarding affair on the den floor, they had talked over 
her fascination in viewing male members. Several days later, he had been 
called to New York City to negotiate for a new account, and had returned 
with his briefcase full of magazines featuring nude men. "Here, sweetheart, 
these will keep you company while I'm on the road," he had announced, 
handing her the magazines with a sly, knowing grin. She had shown only mild 
interest in the photographs while Jake was there, not wanting him to feel 
intimidated by her obvious arousal in seeing other men's phalli; but she had 
carefully studied the spectacular assortment of cocks as soon as he left. 
Indeed, they had kept her company, feeding her imagination for hours on end. 

She took another swig from her glass and rose, noting as she swayed toward 
the bedroom that the alcohol was having a remarkable effect on her ... Or 
was it more than just the Scotch? In any case, her entire system was in a 
state of disorder, a mixture of anger, excitement, and alcoholic haze. 

The magazines were where she had left them, in the top drawer of her vanity 
table. She selected several of her favorites and sat on the bed, leafing 
through the pages with unbridled delight. Then, with a sardonic sneer on her 
face, she stopped and read a portion of the text on the first page of one of 
the magazines: "This magazine is produced to provide a unique collection of 
photo reference studies to be used by the serious artist ... Persons 
desiring erotic or sordid material are warned that such is not to be found 
herein, nor is it our intention to provide material of such a nature...." 
Fat chance, Terry thought, as she leaned over to examine one picture of a 
boy, not more than sixteen, who was posed in a kneeling position. His thick 
cock and dark-skinned scrotum hung to the floor between his muscle-corded 
thighs. He appeared to be rather obtuse, she thought, but for that very 
reason, all the more stimulating. She could almost feel the texture of his 
cockhead, the chamois-like skin of his balls, and lay back panting with her 
legs parted. Her long tanned legs lifted up and bent and unbent alternately, 
her back bowing as she moved her hips slowly to the lilting rhythm of her 
dream. Her fingertips stroked the soft outer lips of her vagina, spreading 
the moist flesh gently apart, caressing their smoothness to sudden rigidity. 
A kaleidoscope of sensual visions committed to memory tumbled about in her 
head, stirring her desire and anger toward Julie simultaneously. 

She inserted a finger between the pulsing flanges of her cunt, expecting her 
passion to soar even higher. But nothing happened. Then she plunged another 
finger in, and another, now three altogether, and still she felt nothing 
like the blaze of sensuality that she had expected. Instead, she was beset 
by overwhelming anxiety and a foolish shriveling of her longing to fondle 
the young boy's fleshy, dangling penis. "Prick, big fat prick ... Cock!" she 
chanted desperately in an attempt to rekindle her lusty hunger. 

Finally, admitting defeat, she hurled the magazine against the wall and 
pulled up her panties, an affronted expression smoldering like sulphur in 
her eyes. "That bitch, that silly bitch! ... Well, she'll pay, by God, 
she'll pay...." 

* * * 

"Hi, kids," Terry said as she walked up to Dolores and the cowboy. They had 
just climbed out of the Jaguar and were busy straightening their clothes and 
stretching when Terry's greeting cut through the roar of traffic still 
buzzing in their ears. 

"We're just coming from the studio," Bill the cowboy said, brightening at 
Terry's presence. "Dolores and I finished about the same time-take it as you 
like-and I magnanimously offered to drive her home." 

"Oh, yes, Terry, it was beautiful-more than I thought. You just don't know," 
Dolores exuded as she smiled up at Bill. 

"Oh, it was ... beautiful," Bill smirked. "A perfect pisser of an afternoon, 
despite the fact that little blooming bubs here had been hard at it since 
sometime this morning ... Holy Christ, talk about waking a sleeping 
tigress...." 

Dolores gazed lovingly at Bill, her lips half-mooning in a peaches-and-cream 
expression of adoration. "Kid all you like," she giggled, "but now I know 
why they call you a cowboy." 

"Well, this cowboy needs a stiff drink." 

"Say, I've got an idea," Terry joined in. "I've just broached a fresh bottle 
of Scotch ... Why don't you two sex-fiends come to my place and cool down 
over a drink?" 

"Splendid idea!" Bill enthused. 

"I can't," Dolores said dolefully. "I've got to shower and get ready for the 
Suburban Ethics Club meeting at six o'clock ... I'm resigning this evening 
... Bill, you'll stop over before you leave, won't you?" 

"Sure, baby ... But now, let's have that tall one," he said, winking 
mischievously at Terry. 

* * * 

Later, having settled down comfortably in the den, drinks in hand, Bill and 
Terry spent a leisurely half hour poking fun at Dolores' gleeful exuberance 
over her recent introduction to the ambrosial fruits of sex. 

After a while, the cowboy began to loosen up and, while moving closer to his 
hostess, launched a steady flow of praise and poetic conceits engineered to 
bowl over any obstacle in his way. 

"It comes to me, my bonny friend, that you're a true cynic, imbued with wit 
and charm, but above all, an insight into the symptoms of our decay as a 
culture ... I should say...." 

"I should say you're drunk," Terry said perkily, "and that you're trying to 
talk your way into my pants ... You might make it, you know, but that 
depends upon something else." 

"Damned if you didn't find me out ... You would. But what sacrificial 
provision must I hold to, to strike thunder in your secret parts? In other 
words, how much to fuck you?" 

"I'm surprised that you'd pay-for any woman. But since you've placed me in a 
position to barter, I admit that there's something I want." 

"My car?" the cowboy asked sarcastically, yet uncertainly. 

"No, not your car," Terry laughed. "It's something much less expensive ... 
I'd simply like to borrow one of Lester's films with out his knowing ... I 
want one with Julie in it-one of the ones that hasn't been released. I'd ask 
him myself, but I know he's a fanatic about unedited film. It's all in fun, 
just for a joke." 

The cowboy shrugged his shoulders and said, "Hell, if that's all you want, 
there's no problem whatsoever ... But you're not planning something rotten 
at Julie's expense, are you? She's a nice girl, you know. Besides, even 
though she did last a little longer than most of them, she just got the boot 
from Mauley." 

Sidling up closer to him, until her leg pressed warmly against his, Terry 
assumed a pouting expression and nuzzled her head into his chest. "Hey now, 
would anyone as affectionate as I am do mean things to others? ... Anyway, I 
thought you were interested in knowing me better." 

"Well now, since you put it that way, I guess you're not at all the type to 
hurt someone. As for getting to know you better, I can't think of a better 
time than right now to get started...." 

With that, he reached out for her breasts and at the same time rolled on his 
side to throw a leg over her thighs. Her head still nestled against him, she 
smiled to herself and allowed him to believe that his seduction of her was 
in the bag. 

Then, with a perfect imitation of real protest, she uttered a little cry and 
struggled free. "Not yet, Bill ... Don't forget, you've not met my 
price...." Still wearing her pout, she added, "More important, though, I'll 
be certain to see you again when you bring the film." 

"I'll be damned! You've outfoxed me again ... Okay, you win. I'll get you 
your damned film, despite its being a risk and against my better judgment 
... But I think I'm entitled to survey what I'm paying for-even if it's just 
a feel." 

"Wouldn't that amount to the same thing as credit?" Terry asked coyly, 
feigning amazement. Nevertheless, she did not flinch when he gathered her 
beautiful ripe body to his and kissed her firmly on the mouth. His hands 
moved once again toward her full succulent breasts, but this time she 
complied with his desire to touch her and sat passively while he kneaded the 
lifting spheres. She saw his enormous cock jump to life in the crotch of his 
trousers, a stain of semen beginning to spread where the inflated head 
strained to burst through the light gabardine material. Her own sensual 
yearning sprang to life, her flesh prickling and chilling for the second 
time that afternoon. The sight of his aching penis, added to his expert 
manipulations of her breasts, made her wish that holding out were not her 
insurance that he would return with the film she wanted. But her revenge was 
too important to sell out for a single sex feast, no matter how ethereal it 
would no doubt be. 

"Steady there, cowboy ... You'll get your ride, I promise, just as soon as 
you deliver the goods. After all, you only wanted a feel." 

"Jesus," he exclaimed, "for such a hot-blooded little bitch, you're as 
calculating as Cleopatra. Don't worry, baby, I'll deliver ... Be prepared." 

"Say, you'd better run if you're going to see Dolores before she takes off 
to sink the Suburban Ethics Club with her speech on Liberated Virginity." 

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I've got to work with her, and it's up to me to 
keep her agreeable ... Besides, that bloody chest of hers is nothing to spit 
at ... But one thing bothers hell out of me," he said as though thinking 
aloud. "I can't figure out how a broad with tits as big as hers ever managed 
to get a membership in the Suburban Ethics Club." 

 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 

"Mr. Jeffers, there's a Mr. Jacob Creighton on line four," the operator 
informed Eric over the intercom. 

"Hello, Eric, this is Jake, your itinerate next-door neighbor. Listen, I 
want to apologize for calling you at work, but I just arrived this afternoon 
from San Francisco and had to get in touch." 

"It's good to hear from you," Eric said uncertainly, fearing that his old 
friend's call might be about Terry and the last party. There was no 
crispness in Jake's voice, though; nothing to indicate that he knew...."So 
what's up, buddy?" 

"Nothing world-shattering. It's just that a friend of Terry's came by this 
morning and dropped off a stag film. Something nasty, I hope ... Well, he's 
got to have it back tomorrow, and I thought you'd like to drop over this 
evening to see it with me. We'll have a few drinks, bullshit ... That sort 
of thing." 

"Sounds fine, Jake, but what about the girls?" 

"Oh, that's all taken care of ... Young Dolores has been in touch with 
Terry-just left, as a matter-of-fact-and they're over at your house now. It 
seems that Terry and Julie had some sort of falling out ... Nothing 
important ... A woman thing, probably about clothes or a recipe ... 
Something silly ... But-to make a long story short-the girls have conspired 
to get Julie out of the house and over to Dolores', to hash things out, 
while you and I sit around swilling booze and watching some cunt get her 
fill of ... well, whatever fills her. What do you say?" 

"Suits me," Eric said with relief, anxious to please Jake. "But what time is 
the coast supposed to clear? When shall I come?" 

"Anytime, as soon as you get home. But go home first and put on something 
casual, something you don't mind creaming up if the girl in the film's as 
good as she's supposed to be. Oh, you'd better grab a bite to eat while 
you're there. There's not a damned thing in our refrigerator but diet food 
and some kind of perishable concoction Terry uses to keep her hormones 
alive. Well, I'll let you go back to your slide rule. See you about 
six-thirty." 

"Okay, Jake, and thanks for calling." 

Eric sat quietly at his desk after he had told the switchboard girl that he 
would not receive any more calls unless they were extremely urgent. Aside 
from being in arrears in his work, he needed time to think and let the 
tightness in his stomach relax. God knows, his wanton interlude with Terry 
had seemed worth all the risks and hazards of any extra-marital indulgence. 
But that was on the night of the party, so far away in time, and now he felt 
guilty, sorry that he had allowed mere inebriation to carry him so 
irrevocably beyond Julie's simple trust. He had always been unrelentingly 
strict with her-perhaps too much so-and she would surely lose confidence in 
his authority if she ever found out about his breach of her faith in him. 

But Terry was such an earthy, cock-hungry bitch-the kind of woman men star 
in their wildest erotic fantasies-that not even Julie would blame him if she 
knew anything about sex and what makes a man tick. He had never broken their 
marriage vows with anyone before Terry, but if Julie did not somehow 
miraculously change into a real woman in bed, there was every possibility 
that he would work out his frustrations with his gorgeous neighbor again. 
Just the thought of her animal-like contortions, her delicious long legs and 
high white breasts, made his cock hard as a brickbat. He wished he were with 
her that very moment, slipping his big pole between the ridges of soft flesh 
framing her deep wet pussy ... Yet, Julie's body was just as 
exciting-fleshier, more voluptuous, perhaps, but perfectly proportioned ... 
And her breasts were fuller, in some ways less wholesome and more inviting. 
If she were only a little more primitive, more "female" and not so submerged 
in her role as a wife, she would be sexually superior even to Terry. 

He thought, then, of his role as Julie's husband. For some reason, one he 
could not fully comprehend, he had changed from a lover into a ruler of his 
wife. He had become her hostile critic, derogator and detractor, finding 
flaws, carping, correcting, and above all minimizing and cutting her down to 
a scale she seemed to understand and want. 

"Eric, if you don't mind, I'd like to see the test results on the Foley 
project," a voice cut in. 

"Oh ... yes, of course, Mr. Perry, here's the preliminary right here. I'll 
have the final on your desk by quitting time." 

 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 

Eric pulled into his driveway just as it was growing dark, a few minutes 
after six o'clock. Julie must already be gone, he thought, as the house 
lights were out except for the one small lamp they always kept burning when 
they were away. 

Inside, he found a brief note from Julie on the kitchen table: 

"If you need me, I'm at Dolores' ... She and Terry came by this afternoon to 
invite me over for a talk and coffee. Your dinner is in the oven ... Love, 
Julie." 

A little later, Eric sat eating alone for the first time in years. She had 
left a veal and pepper casserole, one of his favorite dishes, but found 
himself hard put to enjoy it because of her absence. 

Then he remembered what Jake had said about Julie and Terry having had a 
falling out. Surely Terry had not said anything ... But no, of course not. 
As bold and irreverent as she was, she was no more willing to jeopardize her 
security with Jake than he, Eric, was to hurt Julie unnecessarily. It was 
more likely what Jake had guessed-some wholly irrational female thing 
involving vanity. Funny that she had neglected to mention it, though; 
usually she painstakingly reported everything, even the most banal 
incidents, to him the first opportunity she got. 

In the bedroom, changing into his jeans and an old wool sweater, it occurred 
to him that Jake would appreciate seeing the collection of Ore and Milling 
journals he had saved from his post-graduate days when he was writing his 
Master's thesis. Julie had tried several times to add them to her pile of 
"terminal junk" during spring house-cleaning, but he had always intervened 
and saved them for a rainy day, so to speak. 

They were exactly where he had last seen them, downstairs in the garage in a 
corner next to the snow tires, covered with dust and oil and a pyramid of 
cat dung. He chuckled aloud when he noticed that the small heap of feces was 
peaked with balls of dust that the cat had clawed onto it to hid his scent. 

Eric was scanning the second volume when his eyes wandered and caught sight 
of the thin imitation-leather booklet resting on top of the next layer of 
yellowed journals. He picked it up and read the cover: National Eastern 
Savings and Loan Co. It was new and had apparently been slipped under and 
withdrawn from the journals a number of times. Opening it to the first page, 
he sucked in his breath when he saw the booklet was Julie's, a savings 
account in her name! The balance was $2,175.95! 

He reeled where he stood, trying to make sense of the extraordinary 
discovery ... But it was impossible. Not even he could have milked that much 
money from the household allowance he gave her every week. Moreover, the 
account had been opened less than a month ago. There were seven entries, all 
over two-hundred dollars, the last one deposited several days ago. 

He checked his wristwatch and saw that it was after six-thirty. Jake would 
be wondering ... He jammed the booklet into his hip pocket and started up 
the stairs, convinced that his discovery was a mistake and could be put to 
rest in his mind with a simple explanation from Julie. Still, he could not 
help but speculate ... There had to be an explanation. 

* * * 

Eric stood at the bar in the rumpus room while Jake mixed the drinks, mostly 
whiskey, in two hefty mugs. 

"We bought these a few years back," Jake said, pointing to the mugs, "For 
when we have lamb curry. But they're so large and hold the cold so well, I 
use them for beer and cocktails too. Saves me a lot of walking. You don't 
need refills so often." 

"They're nice," said Eric, without conviction, his mind still swarming with 
questions about the savings account in Julie's name. He thought of excusing 
himself and rushing over to Dolores' house to ask his wife for the answers, 
but decided against it. Jake seemed to be at ease, a little drunk perhaps, 
but pleased that they were drinking together and sharing an evening like 
true bachelors. Well, I might as well take it easy too, Eric decided, 
lifting his mug for another belt of the potent beverage. 

"Hey, did you figure out what the girls were mad about?" Jake asked. "I 
asked Terry just before she left, but she wouldn't budge. Said something 
about my being an 'inconsiderate son-of-a-bitch' ... Then she went on and on 
about my 'adolescent sense of responsibility' because I forgot to cancel my 
reservation at a hotel in San Francisco ... I don't understand her when 
she's like this. Every once in a while she flips and then raves about the 
damnedest things. I put up with it, though, because she inevitably softens 
up and becomes amorous. Fucks as though the world were coming to an end. 
That reminds me ... Let's set up the projector and see what this film's all 
about." 

"That sounds like a great idea," Eric said agreeably, thankful that Jake had 
ended the conversation about Terry. 

"Give me your mug, then, and I'll make us a couple of king-size drinks, 
enough to last us so we won't go dry during the movie," Jake said, filling 
the mugs to the brimming point with the expensive amber-colored whiskey. 
After he had finished, he came from behind the bar and walked up to the wall 
on the other side of the room, then pulled down the permanently-affixed 
screen. Meanwhile, Eric put to work his technical skill and began to thread 
the film leader through the complex of rollers and other appurtenances on 
the side of the projector. 

"This sounds pretty wild," Eric brightened, holding up the flat black metal 
film case. "It's called, believe it or not, Animal Tamer ... Series A2." 

"I know ... Man, it's only because you're about my best friend that I didn't 
give it a preview. But I thought I'd save it to see with you, because I'm 
one of those boorish bastards who's always telling what's coming next-you 
know, when I've seen a movie before anyone else." 

"Well, don't feel guilty-I'm the same way. But come on, the hell with 
talking ... Why don't we see if the star can really tame animals?" Eric was 
feeling his whiskey, but more than that, at ease with himself because of 
Jake's obvious ignorance about the good banging he had given his wife on the 
night of the party. 

"You don't see me hiding my eyes," Jake slurred. "Go to it." 

Eric nodded and flipped the switch at the back of the projector. They both 
tilted up their mugs for a drink, as though to steel themselves for the 
thrills to come, and squirmed on the bar stools to secure better positions 
as they leaned back with their elbows on the rolls of leather framing the 
bar. 

(At first, there was the usual montage of black slashes and numbers on the 
screen. Then the clattering of the projector ceased and the title appeared 
... Animal Tamer, Produced and Directed by L. M....An L. M. Production ... 
Two girls were staged with a large black goat in what appeared to be a 
jungle scene. Both naked, one girl was seated in the bowl of a huge rock 
with her head thrown back, her identity obscured by the camera angle and the 
other girl's lush form. The goat was mounted on the rock with his forefeet 
just outside the seated girl's thighs. The foremost girl knelt and began to 
manipulate the goat's genitals. When the beast's cock emerged from his 
sheath, she took it fully into her mouth and began to suck and draw on the 
hard wet length.) 

"Christ, look at that," Jake huffed. "Terry was right when she said this was 
a winner!" He was already re-engrossed in watching the film when Eric turned 
to bob his head up and down in appreciative agreement. 

(The passionate animal was close to orgasm. The pretty blonde girl seemed to 
sense it and pulled the creature's humping buttocks forward to better 
facilitate his lewd thrusts into her mouth. His buttocks quivered and he 
drove faster, faster, until the girl's cheeks bloated with his dense, slushy 
sperm. She swallowed in rapid succession, still sucking obscenely at the 
thick stiff prick to withdraw every last ounce of cum she could. The sticky 
white liquid dribbled out between her lips, down onto her chest ... 
Exhausted, the goat dismounted the rock and was led away by the blonde. The 
other girl's lower body was then exposed. The camera moved in for a close-up 
of her ivory buttocks and the moist, slightly-parted cleft of her hair-lined 
cunt. She wriggled down deeper into the hollowed-out space in the rock and 
gaped open her legs, showing more clearly the area of her pussy and the dark 
ring around her ass-hole. There was a tiny birthmark on one half of the 
girl's buttocks.) 

"Holy shit!" Jake boomed, "I can't wait to see how they top that." Eric 
remained quiet, somehow distant as he studied the screen. 

(While the girl on the rock waited in readiness, the blonde led up a second 
goat, blacker and huskier than the first. At the gentlest prompting, the big 
brute reared and took a sound position between the prone girl's thighs. The 
blonde fell to her knees and once again stimulated her charge by 
masturbating the sheath-encased penis to erection. The long knobby cock slid 
inch by inch into view ... As the blonde stepped away, the seated girl 
raised her head to watch the goat's organ split open her throbbing cunt and 
run into her. Her lips were parted, her pointed red tongue clenched between 
her teeth, signifying the degree of her lascivious joy.) 

"Good God, it's Julie!" Jake cried, dumbfounded. Immediately, he reached 
behind him to shut off the projector on the bar. 

"No, let it go," Eric said softly, his face bloodless, his body shaking with 
the force of barely-concealed emotion. The two men stared at each other for 
a long painful moment, then Jake set the machine in motion again. The 
whirring sound was excruciatingly loud, the picture as clear as a bell. 

(The intensity of Julie's crazed lust increased as the goat banged harder 
against her, sinking his inflamed shaft further and further into her willing 
vagina. She grimaced as the thrusting cock-tip gouged her cervix and sent 
delicious waves of pain and pleasure through her.... She caressed the wide 
base of the cock at the peak of each of its lunges into her, her hands 
drooping to fondle the balls below it at the back-stroke.) 

Eric was transfixed, his mind afire with fury and shock. Slowly, dimly, the 
initials "L. M." surfaced on his consciousness....Suddenly it came to him: 
Lester Mauley! ... The bank book secreted away under the journals, the money 
... His wife was a whore, a sneaking whore! The realization broke like a 
tidal wave throughout his tensed body. 

He turned to look at Jake, hoping his friend would somehow know the real 
depth of agony and embarrassment he felt. But Jake was thoroughly absorbed 
in the depraved exhibition on the screen. He bristled anew at the sight of 
Jake's meaty hand rubbing the pronounced lump jutting up from the crotch of 
his trousers. His best friend was turned on, actually hot at the most 
humiliating moment of Eric's life ... Fighting himself, Eric faced the 
screen again. 

(Julie ground her cunt up to meet the beast's hard driving cock. Her 
pleasure-wracked body twisted and writhed as the dumb animal fucked into her 
hot, hungrily milking vagina like a jack-hammer.) 

"Man, look at her go!" Jake yelled, his hand now plunged down inside his 
trousers, yanking at his prick without shame. As Eric watched, horrified, 
his excited neighbor began to buck uncontrollably on the stool, holding his 
penis as it spewed gush after gush of cum in the crotch of his trousers. 

Eric turned again to view the lustful coupling on the screen. 

(The crazily fucking goat was cumming deep in Julie's belly. Her face was 
pinched, her nostrils flaring from the effects of her own ecstasy.) 

* * * 

"More coffee, Julie?" Dolores asked. "No thanks. Another drop and I'll be up 
all night." 

The three girls sat cozily around the formica-topped table in Dolores' 
kitchen, sipping the last of their coffee and chatting about incidentals. 
The main topic-the rift between Terry and Julie-had long ago been settled. 
They had both apologized and were now feeling repentant for the harsh words 
they had exchanged. Only Terry was not genuinely relaxed ... She kept 
glancing up at the clock on the shelf over the counter beside the sink. 

"Don't you think we ought to wind this up?" Terry asked her companions. 
"It's getting late ... Besides, we'd better not let Jake and Eric get the 
idea that we've abandoned them." 

"You're probably right, Terry, as usual ... I dread facing my husband, 
though ... I can't remember when I've been so bold as to stick his dinner in 
the oven, with only a note to explain my whereabouts and why he has to eat 
alone." 

"Now stop worrying, Julie," Dolores admonished. "After all, you and Terry 
are the ones who've been telling me to break loose and start thinking about 
myself. Well, I've done it ... and it's only right that I give you back some 
of your own advice." 

Julie smiled expansively and drained off the last of her lukewarm coffee as 
Dolores rose to put away the cream and rinse the dish that had been heaped 
high with tarts and other delectables. For the first time since her hostile 
encounter with Terry, Julie was thawing emotionally and looking upon her 
break with Mauley as a boon and not the repetition of hopeless failure that 
had been the story of her life. She remembered a line from a novel she had 
read the year before: " ... Knowledge is not fortuitous but the fruit of a 
conscious decision, a turning toward...." 

Dolores turned toward her two friends, sighed, and excused herself: "I'm 
sorry, but I've simply got to go to the bathroom before we leave." 

When their hostess had pulled to the door to the bathroom and turned on the 
faucet, presumably to drown out the sound of her evacuation, Terry pushed 
aside the ashtray in front of her and leaned forward toward Julie. 

"Honey, no matter what you may think of me after tonight, let me say I'm 
sorry. You don't know what I'm talking about-yet-but just try to chalk up 
what's coming to old Terry's damned foolishness ... Anyway, forgive me...." 
Terry's eyes were filled with tears, long streaks of mascara running down 
her cheeks. 

Julie was overcome with the sincerity of Terry's plea, still not aware of 
its meaning nor the force of her friend's remorse. She was on the verge of 
replying when Dolores whisked in, her colossal breasts still bouncing even 
after she had come to a halt in the doorway. 

"What's wrong?" Dolores asked, taking in the somber expression on Terry's 
face. "Did I barge in at the wrong time?" 

"No, never mind," Terry said, quickly recomposing herself. "It's just that 
I'm tired and want to go home." 

"Yes, I suppose that's a good suggestion ... I'm tired too. Moreover, I've 
not seen my husband since this morning. He's going to scalp me, I'm afraid, 
because I had the audacity to take off with hardly any justification." 

The three girls bustled about the kitchen, cleaning up and avoiding each 
other's eyes. When the silence was no longer bearable, Dolores broke in with 
a giggle and said, "Bill asked about you today, Julie. He was really 
concerned about your state of mind. He told me to warn you that he might 
drop by some day soon ... He was only kidding, of course." 

"Of course," Terry said. 

* * * 

Jake had just returned from the bathroom when the two wives and Dolores 
strode into the rumpus room. The women knew at once that something was 
wrong, that there was an atmosphere of discomfort and hate filling the room. 
Eric was still on his stool, staring down wordlessly at the floor. Terry 
moved quickly to the bar and shut off the movie projector, which had played 
through the film some time ago and was then casting only a stark white 
blankness on the screen. 

"You knew, didn't you?" Jake asked in an undertone. Terry did not answer and 
continued to stare away, her expression a confession of guilt without words. 
"Didn't you?" he asked again, his voice rising. 

"Yes. I knew. I'm ... sorry. Forgive me." Terry fled from the room, sobbing 
openly. 

"What's going on here?" Dolores blurted. No one answered the untimely 
question; the tenseness in the air reigned on, uninterrupted except for 
Jake's shame-faced retreat behind the bar to fix himself another drink. 

"Anyone for a nightcap? ... Eric?" 

Julie turned to watch Eric's reaction to the question, but there was none. 
He simply looked down, his eyes glassy and remote, his lips curved 
sneeringly as if he were thinking of some naughty private joke. She knew the 
look, had seen it on numerous occasions when some major disaster had 
affected him. 

"Eric, I'm sorry too," Julie said. "I know you're angry with me, but...." 

"Be quiet. Just be quiet," Eric whispered. 

"But I fixed your favorite casserole ... I'm ... Terry and I ... Oh please, 
I'm sorry I wasn't home!" 

Dolores mustered her courage and stepped up to Eric. "Come on, everyone, you 
too, Eric ... Let's all have that nightcap Jake offered." Still, no one 
moved or made any indication that Dolores' newfound self-confidence was 
worth even the least attention. 

"Jake, I fucked your wife. I fucked her in her pussy, Jake, and I think I'll 
fuck her from now on, every time you're out of town...." Eric's berry-black 
eyes twinkled almost gaily as they searched from face to face to appraise 
the effect of his words. "Why Jake, old buddy, what's bothering you? Don't 
tell me you can't handle the truth about your hot-crotched little wife. You 
don't actually think she sits around here with a pillow over her box, 
dreaming of you, while you're gone, do you?" 

"Eric, hadn't we better go?" Julie asked softly. "We can talk this over at 
home." 

"Yes, of course, my loyal little Julie, my industrious little wife ... Of 
course we can talk this over at home. For that matter, we can sit down over 
a nice hot cup of coffee and decide what we're going to spend your 
whore-money on ... But you'd best consult Jake before we make any decisions. 

Right? He's fucking you too, isn't he? ... Oh, I almost forgot! Lester 
Mauley should have a say too, shouldn't he? He helped you to stardom, didn't 
he? ... I've always wondered what it would be like to live with an actress. 
They say it's pure hell, but now I know that's a lot of shit. You've been 
wonderful, love, just wonderful ... No trouble at all ... But then, even I 
can understand why. You haven't had the difficulties an actress normally 
has-no husband to interfere with your performances ... No fans milling 
around outside your door, yelling for autographs ... None of the legendary 
hassles beautiful actresses usually have with press agents and gossip 
columnists ... And, God knows, from what I've seen, you don't need a 
psychiatrist to figure out your sex problems. It's all quite simple. We'll 
buy a farm and stock it with big black goats-and bulls. And chickens. Have 
you tried roosters yet, Julie? I'll bet my last nickel that they're 
great-one of your better lays ... And...." 

"Oh please, this is scary ... Please stop," Dolores whimpered, the meaning 
of the tension finally starting to penetrate her innocent apprehension of 
the circumstances. 

The buxom girl's plea stabbed through Eric's consciousness like a bolt of 
lightning. He whipped around his head to locate the source of the voice, 
gave Dolores an apologetic smile, then took Julie's arm to leave. 

"We'll be seeing you, Jake, ... I guess." 

 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 

At home, Julie and Eric undressed for bed, their mutual silence hanging like 
a pall in the air. There was no doubt now that he knew where and how she had 
earned her "whore-money" ... And he had publicly admitted his infidelity 
with Terry. If only he would unbend; if only they could sit down and talk 
over their marriage, the events of the last month, the ... killing distance. 

"How many men have you been fucked by Julie? How many cocks have you had up 
your sweet little cunt?" 

"Eric, I ... I think we're both too upset to discuss this rationally. 
Tomorrow's another day ... All I can say right now is, ... I'm sorry. I did 
what I did for you, for us, to help us out of the financial rut we've been 
in for years." 

"Aha!" Eric howled, his arms extended, the nasty sneer he had worn earlier 
returning to his face. "I thought you'd at least come up with something more 
imaginative." 

Julie chose not to acknowledge his last remark, knowing that anything she 
said would simply incite him to further anger. She went on in silence, 
peeling her gauzy pink panties down over her still exquisite buttocks, 
shedding her last defense against total vulnerability. Turning, she saw that 
Eric was also naked, standing beside the bed with his hands on his hips, his 
eyes gleamingly fixed on her ivory buttocks where, a moment before, the 
telltale birthmark had been exposed to his burning gaze. 

"Come here, love," he demanded softly, as he eased himself to a prone 
position on the bed. "Is your little cunt hungry, or did you get yours 
already today? Come over and sit with Eric, your husband, the one with all 
the legal privileges-or had you forgotten?" A thin cruel smile played across 
his lips as he patted the edge of the bed beside him. 

Hesitantly, she stepped over to the bed, watching as he stroked the 
rock-hard length of his pulsing rod. "Eric, please-you must believe me. I 
only did it for the money ... I mean-" she began as he reached up to jerk 
her down beside him on the coverlet. 

"Ah, my thoughtful little wife-whore. Well, now let's see what you've 
learned in your travels," he snapped. "If you're good enough, I may even 
pimp for you." His hand snaked out to twine into her hair, twisting it 
painfully around his fingers as he pushed her face down toward his belly. As 
she tried to pull away from his agonizing grasp, he snarled, "What's the 
matter, baby. Do you only do it for cash? I'm your husband-remember?" 

Julie felt the smooth blood-gorged head of his lurching cock pressing 
bluntly into the soft skin of her cheek. Straining to turn her head up to 
face him, she pleaded, "Please, Eric, don't do this to us. I love you." With 
a bestial grunt, he pushed her down again and heaved his pelvis upward, 
lodging his thick, aroused cock between her yielding lips. 

She tenderly kissed the swollen head, then took it into her mouth, accepting 
as rightful reckoning whatever humiliating abuse he would subject her to. 
Her tight lips moved slowly down the shaft, her tongue working persuasively 
as she lowered onto it, tasting the pungent tang of his viscous semen 
seeping from the tip. 

"Ooooh, Julie!" Eric moaned as the warm elastic pressure of her lips and the 
skillful ministrations of her pointed tongue caused him to stab his 
distended column deeper into her mouth, forcing it toward her throat like a 
throbbing, aching piston of pleasure. 

Christ! He loved her! Right at that moment he was certain of it. She was his 
wife and, besides, no one had ever sucked his cock like this before. "Suck 
it, Julie! Ooooh God, I do love you!" 

Her heart leapt as she heard the words rasped breathlessly from the 
lust-contorted lips of her husband. Holding his prick in one hand, she eased 
down on his loins, beginning to draw it steadily up and down through her 
open lips, twisting her tongue at the peak of each stroke. 

As he raised his head to watch, the sight of her lovely cheeks, bloating and 
hollowing with each thrust, drove him to greater frenzy. She gasped and 
sucked harder as he began a rhythmic pounding into her mouth, brutally 
crashing the huge muscled cock against the tender tissue of the back of her 
throat. 

"Oh, baby, I love you ... love you," he whispered hoarsely as the glans of 
his hardened penis pulsed maddeningly beneath her tongue. Her breasts 
quivered and billowed below her buffeted torso as he slammed his groin into 
her face, fucking her receptive mouth with his straining rod of hardened 
flesh. His cock felt ready to explode, the pressure in his pulsing balls 
building to a bursting point. 

He writhed his buttocks, pulling her head down to engulf his fiery organ as 
he felt the white hot stream from deep in his bloated sacs mounting the 
length of his prick to jet in lava-like streams far into her throat, filling 
her cheeks as she gulped wildly to swallow it all to keep from choking. 

With a last massive thrust, he emptied a torrent of the fluid into her head, 
watching amazed as though taking a milkshake through a straw she greedily 
drew out the last dregs of sperm still caught in his shrinking penis. 

He fell back onto the bed while she lay contentedly across his stomach, 
cradling the limp organ in her warm palm. 

"Darling, darling, you're wonderful! You don't know how happy I am...." 
Julie effused. 

EPILOGUE 

The following week, during a thunderstorm which lashed their street like an 
angry deity, Julie and Eric packed the last of their personal belongings in 
the back seat of their car. The moving van had just left with the bulk of 
their furniture, headed as they were for Butte, Montana. 

Eric had applied for, and received, a transfer to the Butte branch of his 
company. The money was no better, but at least his firm was sponsoring the 
trip and had already arranged lodging for them with a young lab researcher 
and his wife. Julie had vowed to utilize all her spare time looking for a 
small house within their means. And now that they had sold their home (even 
though it was still in escrow) and withdrawn all the money in Julie's 
savings account, they had enough to make a substantial deposit on whatever 
they found. 

Jake and Terry had given them a going-away party, a really happy affair, 
during which Jake and Eric had made amends and sworn life-long friendship 
over drinks. Terry had drawn Julie aside and, with Dolores looking on, had 
made a pact to keep in touch and visit each other whenever they were within 
a day's traveling distance. 

Even Lester Mauley had been there, with Norma and Bill the cowboy, all of 
whom had wished Julie and Eric the very best. There had almost been a fight 
between Eric and Les, the latter who had jokingly suggested that "the hicks 
in such a provincial burg" would certainly appreciate "a classy broad like 
Julie...." It was then that Norma had stepped forward and, with 
uncharacteristic eloquence, announced that she and Les were married. It was 
information that not even Terry knew, despite the fact that she and Jake had 
been Mauley's friends for a number of years. 

Dolores had wept, not to anyone's surprise, because she felt aggrieved over 
her friends' departure for "a new life...." The cowboy had stepped up to the 
bar, literally (that is, mounting a stool to stand on the bar-top itself), 
and had read his most recent work, a lengthy narrative poem about a girl 
with a mammoth chest.... 

Above all, Julie and Eric understood their different views concerning sex 
and had broken them down to workable principles in bed. 

Winter was just around the corner. Julie had heard of the fierce Montana 
storms, that those in summer-during the rainy season-were equal to the worst 
heavy snows, but she was not threatened now by stories. She was excited, 
eager, anticipating the chance for a new start with Eric like a giddy kid 
waiting for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. She dreamed of the winters she 
would spend with her new husband (wasn't he?), of the bitter nights when 
they would snuggle up to each other, thankful, happy just to be alive. She 
thought of the jaunts she would make to the store, wrapped up like a 
Russian, her shoulders hunched-up, her hands deep in her pockets, shivering 
because she was happy and in love.... 


THE END
