All Weekend Long
(Betty Simpson)


Chapter 1

Laura Wilson sat low in the steaming tub, letting the hot water 
whirlpool in the hidden crevices of her voluptuous young body. She blew 
playfully at the mounds of bubbles and scooped them up in her cupped 
hands, building small twin peaks on the dark brown areolas of her 
breasts, and then blowing them into hundreds of small translucent balls 
that crackled and popped furiously around her.

Stretching her smooth arms up above her head and stiffening her long, 
well-formed legs against the front of the tub, she raised her slim body 
halfway out of the water, and allowed it to run in small rivers down 
along the enticing lines of her soft young body. Her skin stretched 
tautly against her rib cage, further accentuating the curves that ran 
from her proud shoulders down to the slight jut of her pelvis that 
pointed out softly near the crest of her slender hips.

At twenty seven, Laura had lost none of the youthful and desirable form 
she had acquired as a teenager. Her body had kept its shape with 
exercise on the tennis courts or in swimming pools, and her face was 
still brightened by the same innocent excitement and exuberance that 
provided the cornerstone to her beauty. She had much to be proud of, 
and she was aware of that fact with an unpretentious satisfaction that 
showed in the way she moved and carried herself.

Leaning forward, Laura pulled the plug from the tub and allowed half 
the water to run out. Then she turned on the hot water tap to refill 
the tub, and poured two more capfuls of bubble bath into the water. It 
was only four-thirty in the afternoon, and she planned to soak for at 
least fifteen more minutes. This was going to be a special treat 
tonight, she thought to herself, as she leaned back again against the 
back of the tub. She and her husband Bill had been invited out that 
night by their next-door neighbors, George and Abby Farrington, and 
Laura was looking forward to it with unbounded excitement. It had been 
so long since she and Bill had been out. Of course, she knew her 
husband was very busy with his work; but still, Laura was the kind of 
person who needed excitement, who thrived on it, and the last few 
months had been almost torturous for her. Bill had been working twelve 
to eighteen hours a day, and when he came home he was usually so 
exhausted that he could only eat dinner and fall into bed. Laura had 
tried her best to reconcile herself to this state of affairs, but that 
was becoming increasingly difficult as time went on. She found herself 
yearning for the exciting days when they'd first been married, when 
everything was new and wonderful. She yearned for those days which, she 
was beginning to fear, were gone forever.

But no matter, the young blonde thought to herself as she eased back 
down into the scalding water. Tonight, at least, will be different. 
Perhaps her husband would see that he couldn't go on working himself to 
death as he was doing, that there was more to life than simply 
preparing for the future. There was the present, that had to be enjoyed 
and lived fully in order to stay healthy and sane.

Laura was curious, and also a little apprehensive, about the activities 
that had been planned for that evening. Abby Farrington had been over 
that morning for coffee, and said that they'd decided to go out to a 
topless nightclub about thirty minutes from their home in the suburb of 
Oak Park.

Born and raised with all the modesty the Midwest had to offer, Laura 
wasn't sure how she would react to the naked breasts of other women as 
they bobbed and swayed to psychedelic music in front of a large crowd 
of people. She felt she would be too embarrassed to stay through an 
entire show, but with all her courage she had tried to seem pleased 
when Abby had told her where they were going. George Farrington had 
already reserved a table, and since he was footing the bill, Laura 
didn't feel she could object.

Her thoughts were broken by the loud ringing of the telephone in the 
bedroom. She turned her head toward the open door, knowing for some 
unexplainable reason that it was her husband Bill calling. She lifted 
herself quickly from the tub, threw her robe around her shoulders and 
hurried to the bedside phone.

"Hello, darling," she said, cradling the receiver between her chin and 
shoulder.

"How did you know it was me?" Bill asked.

"Oh, I'm just telepathic," she giggled.

"Well, tell me if you were telepathic about this," he said. "You have 
to pack a bag for me. I've been called to Dallas."

"Oh, no, Bill! Not tonight!"

"I'm afraid so, honey. The call came just ten minutes ago. There's an 
important meeting of branch managers from the larger cities. For some 
reason, the boss wants me to go along with him, and I can't think up a 
reason not to go." Bill's voice sounded slightly worried.

"Oh, darling, that means we can't go out with the Farringtons tonight."

"I know, honey, and I'm sorry about it - but there isn't anything I can 
do. I've got to go."

"Darling, is everything all right?" Laura asked with concern. "You 
sound worried."

"Damn right I'm worried. Don't you see what this trip means? All the 
branch managers from around the country are going to be there, and that 
means they'll be there from San Francisco, too!"

"Oh, darling ... you mean, there might be somebody there that knows 
about you?" Laura's voice now shared the worry that edged Bill's voice.

"I don't see how there couldn't be," Bill stated flatly, and then he 
paused to think. "Laura, I'll just have to chance it. There's no other 
way."

"Couldn't you call in sick or something?" Laura suggested. "There's got 
to be some way to keep from going."

"No, I can't call in sick because we leave in just about two hours. No, 
I'm afraid there's no way out of it. We'll just have to risk it, I 
guess. I called just to let you know, and to get you to pack a bag for 
me."

"Oh, darling ..."

"Now don't worry, Laura. There's no use worrying about it. Either my 
boss finds out or he doesn't. There's nothing we can do about it except 
pray. And believe me, I'm doing a lot of praying right now."

"Just when everything seemed to be going so well ..." The tears were 
beginning to well up in Laura's blue eyes.

"Now stop that, honey. There's no use crying about it. Can you get that 
bag packed?"

"Of course, dear."

"O.K. I'll be home in, I guess, about 30 minutes."

"O.K."

"Come on, chin up, sweetheart. See you in awhile." Laura didn't answer, 
but only listened to the click on the other end of the line. Oh, why? 
she thought. Nothing ever seems to turn out right. Day and night Bill 
was away from her, working, and slaving, sacrificing even their lives 
together in order to give them some security, and then something like 
this had to happen. Halfheartedly, she walked to the closet and began 
selecting clothes for him. Her mind drifted back to those terrible days 
in San Francisco, over a year ago now.

Laura and Bill had only been married a couple of years, and Bill had 
been working at a fairly large finance company, and doing very well. He 
had already received one promotion in record time, and was well on his 
way to another. Both he and Laura had been excited about his success, 
and their eagerness and ambition knew no bounds. Perhaps it was this 
ambition that had led Bill to the greatest mistake of his life.

At first, it had all seemed innocent enough: Bill's former boss, a Mr. 
Ferguson, had simply seemed to be reorganizing the company's books, 
taking money from one department and giving it to another, paying bills 
out of one account and transferring funds to another. It wasn't until 
Bill began to really look at what was going on that he realized his 
boss was lining his own pockets with a small but steady income from the 
company treasury. Bill had known he should go to the police, and report 
everything, but he hadn't. He had pretended to know nothing about the 
imbalance in his books.

After awhile, Ferguson had somehow found out that Bill knew about his 
illegal activities; but strangely enough, even though Ferguson knew, 
and Bill knew he knew, there was never a word said on the subject. Bill 
found himself quickly elevated in position not once, but three times, 
with increasing salaries and benefits, though he never took part in any 
actual embezzlement himself. Still, he kept most of the books, and was 
therefore an accomplice to everything his boss did.

In due time, of course, everything was discovered. The boss had begun 
to take greater and greater amounts, the books were showing more and 
more obvious discrepancies, and finally Bill's boss had skipped town. 
The company went bankrupt, Ferguson was caught, and they were both 
indicated for embezzlement. Those few days had been the worst in Bill's 
life, and in Laura's as well. It was as though the world had come to an 
abrupt halt, and there was nothing, no reality to their lives at all, 
except the specter of the prison sentence awaiting Bill.

Finally, the District Attorney had come to Bill with a deal. He had 
proposed that Bill turn state's evidence, and testify as to the extent 
of his boss' illegal activities. Bill had hesitated at first, feeling 
that to comply would be some kind of betrayal of the trust Ferguson had 
placed in him. But gradually he had come to realize that far from 
trust, his boss had used him as much as he had used the company's 
finances, for his own ends. And Bill agreed to the District Attorney's 
deal.

Laura took a suitcase from the back of the closet, and opened it up on 
the bed. She began placing her husband's clothes into it carefully, 
selecting the things she knew he liked and which would be appropriate 
for the kind of meeting he was going to attend. Wearily, she passed a 
hand across her face, and sank down on the bed. Would it really happen? 
Could it really be true that their torture and torment was to begin all 
over again?

She remembered back to the days and weeks and months that followed the 
trial in San Francisco. At first, she and her husband had been na ve 
enough to think that, with the end of the trial and the conviction of 
Bill's boss, their troubles would be over. In truth, though, they had 
just begun. It had been months before Bill had been able to find an 
employer willing to hire him, and then only because that employer was 
not familiar with Bill's past. That first job had only lasted a short 
two weeks before Bill's part in the embezzlement scheme had come to 
light, and he had been fired. In the months that followed, the story 
was the same, over and over again. Bill would find a job after much 
searching, only to see it taken away from him when his new employer 
found out about the embezzlement and the trial, and then he would be on 
the streets again, facing the inevitable job interview, and the equally 
inevitable: "You wouldn't happen to be the Bill Wilson who used to work 
for Coast Financing, would you?"

After a year of this kind of torment, Bill and Laura had discovered 
that the strain was beginning to have an effect on their marriage: 
arguments were more frequent and intense, they could never seem to 
escape the shadow left by Bill's momentous indiscretion. And finally 
they had decided to leave San Francisco and try to start again in some 
other city. Bill had found his present job, and they'd moved to Oak 
Park - and at last it seemed as though they were free, out from under 
the incredible burden of their past mistakes. They had lived in Oak 
Park almost a year, and had almost forgotten what it was like to be 
hounded and trapped and desperate.

And now it could start all over again, all the frail and fragile 
supports they had built their new life on now threatened once again to 
be torn out from under them, with all the trauma that would ensue. Oh, 
it was hopeless! Laura thought to herself as she began packing Bill's 
suitcase once more. They would never escape ... never again be able to 
lead a free and unworried life.

Laura stood before the full-length mirror in their large closet, and 
let her robe fall carelessly from her ivory shoulders. Her hands 
reached up to cup her youthfully erect breasts, and she examined 
herself in the mirror. Though she was only three years away from 
thirty, her exquisite body showed no signs of age, but was as vital and 
firm as it had ever been. She studied herself carefully, and then 
turned from the mirror, picking her robe up from the floor as she did 
so.

Both she and Bill had sacrificed something this past year. Bill had 
seemed to be working himself to death, almost to make up for the 
mistakes he'd made in San Francisco. And Laura had reconciled herself 
to the inevitable neglect in the bedroom that her husband's heavy work 
schedule caused. She didn't like to be petty, especially when Bill was 
working so hard to make their lives better - but all the same, he was 
exhausting himself, and that exhaustion was leaving him unable to 
satisfy Laura's desires at night. Laura felt very guilty the few times 
she had tried to suggest that he didn't need to work so hard, that 
their sexual lives together were just as important a part of their 
lives as the money Bill brought home at the end of the month. But he 
hadn't seemed to understand, and Laura had given up trying to make him 
see; she had instead decided that she could sacrifice something as 
well, and that would be her sexual desires.

It had been over a month since her husband had made love to her, 
though, and this new danger to their lives threatened a disruption that 
would be far more injurious than Bill's exhaustion ever could be. As 
she finished packing her husband's suitcase, and set it by the bedroom 
door for him to pick up, Laura wondered whether she would be able to 
survive this new wrinkle in the already disturbed pattern of her life.

At five o'clock, the door opened, and Laura heard Bill's voice as he 
entered the front door.

"Honey, are you dressed? George is with me."

Damn, she thought, when she heard him. She had hoped for at least a few 
minutes alone with him before he had to leave. Quickly, she threw on a 
simple housedress, and went out into the living room.

George Farrington turned to her, and greeted her with a large grin, as 
he always did. She smiled back at the steel grey eyes that always 
seemed to penetrate her when they looked in her direction. She always 
felt curiously exposed when he looked at her that way.

"Hi, Laura. How are you," George said warmly. "I gave Bill a lift home. 
Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not, why should I?" she smiled. Laura thought how little 
George Farrington looked like his forty years. His face and body showed 
no excess flesh, but was solid and handsome. Except for the slight 
greying of his hair, she would have guessed his age at about thirty-two 
or three.

"Hello, honey. Get that bag packed?" Bill moved across the room from 
the bar where he'd been fixing drinks, and handed her one, neglecting 
to kiss her on the cheek as he'd always done their first year of 
marriage. For some reason he didn't have the inclination to give her 
that little bit of reassurance that she needed so badly, especially 
now.

"Yes, it's in the bedroom," Laura answered him.

"Good. Well, here's to Dallas, and a safe trip," Bill toasted.

"And a quiet trip," Laura added, catching her husband's eye. She 
noticed the worry was still there, and that Bill's attempted joviality 
was merely a cover.

Bill finished his drink quickly, and moved into the bedroom. Laura 
excused herself from George, and followed him. Coming into the bedroom, 
she shut the door behind her, and threw herself into her husband's 
arms.

"Oh, Bill ... tell me it isn't going to happen all over again!"

"Hey, hey now."

"Come on, honey," he answered, trying to disentangle himself from his 
wife's caresses. "Don't get so excited. Nothing's going to happen, 
believe me."

"You say that, but you don't mean it, darling. I know you're worried 
... just as worried as I am."

"No, I'm not, really ..." Bill's assurance was unconvincing. He talked 
like a man who didn't want to be reminded of his danger. "And you 
getting hysterical is not going to help matters."

Laura took her arms from around his neck, and moved across to sit on 
the bed. She was hurt by his unwillingness to share his trouble with 
her, and she was hurt by the distance he seemed to be putting between 
them.

"I ... I didn't mean to get hysterical, darling. I'm sorry."

Bill turned to his wife, and then moved to her side, laying an 
impersonal hand on her head as though it might comfort her.

"I know, honey. I'm just a little upset, you know. But don't forget, 
nothing may happen in Dallas at all. There's just a chance that it will 
- but that's the chance we've been living with for the past year, isn't 
it?"

Laura looked up, and nodded mutely.

"O.K., so let's not worry until there's something to worry about. Life 
is too short. Now come on, we've left George in the front room."

Laura rose, and followed her husband into the living room. George 
Farrington got up when they came in, and she moved across the room to 
him.

"I'm sorry, George, but I guess we'll have to take a rain check on our 
night out tonight. Maybe when Bill gets back from Dallas."

"Not at all," George replied, and turned to Bill with a twinkle in his 
eye. "Shall I tell her?"

Bill nodded slightly as he finished his drink.

"Your traveling husband and I talked it over in the car and decided 
that you shouldn't miss a party just because your old man is out of 
town." George's smile never faded as he talked. "Abby and I will take 
you to the club without him. The table has already been reserved and 
everything has been especially ordered. Besides, I'm still not too old 
to squire two women at once, if it's only for one night."

"Oh, George, I don't know," Laura started, but he interrupted.

"Don't be ridiculous. I've already talked to Abby. She's been spending 
the last three hours getting ready for this. She doesn't mind sharing 
me for part of one evening. So you can't say no," he said, taking her 
hand warmly.

"In that case, Mr. Farrington, I simply cannot refuse," Laura said 
dramatically. "What time will you call, sir?"

"At eight sharp. Can you be ready, Madam?"

"Of course," she answered.

"Enough is enough for both of you lovers," Bill broke in, "I've got a 
jet to catch. Come on, George, let's get a move on. George is taking me 
to the plane, honey."

Laura walked her husband to the door and kissed him goodbye, feeling 
his impatience to leave as he drew away from her. She watched him walk 
to George's car and stood in the doorway, her arms hanging limply at 
her side.

"See you at eight," George shouted.

She nodded and smiled, watching the white convertible back from the 
driveway onto the street and roar off toward the corner and the 
airport. Goodnight, Bill, she thought and turned back into the house 
closing the door behind her, conscious of a single tear that had 
dropped to her cheek. A deep sense of loneliness rippled through her, a 
loneliness she had been carrying with her since their move to Oak Park, 
a loneliness that her husband had been too busy to recognize, and too 
preoccupied to relieve her of.

*   *   *

Two hours later, George and Abby Farrington shared a small pitcher of 
Martinis in their bedroom as George dressed. Abby sat on the bed, 
propped up against the headboard with a large pillow behind her. At 
thirty six, she looked every bit as good as the younger Laura, but her 
own self criticism and fear of growing older sometimes blinded her to 
that fact. Her black hair was cut in the latest style and she wore a 
miniskirt that revealed a year-round tan on her full and sensual 
thighs. Nearly every man she came into contact with looked at her with 
more than just idle curiosity.

"It's working out better than we thought," the exotic woman said. "Do 
you think she's ready?"

"Ripe for plucking," George said, smiling at his pun.

"You are too, too funny," Abby said. "I hope you're right, though."

"Have I ever been wrong about a woman before?" he said, not waiting for 
an answer. "You should have seen the look on her face when we drove 
away. Laura is the loving wife all right, but she's been so neglected 
by Bill that there won't be any trouble at all. And even if there is, I 
can change her mind. With what I know about Bill, I could convince her 
of anything. No, sweetheart, getting her hot little body between the 
sheets will be no trouble at all."

"No, I suppose not, darling, not with that fatal charm of yours," his 
beautiful wife answered with a slight tone of sarcasm.

"But don't forget your part in the plan," George said, ignoring her 
jibe. "Bill probably won't be that easy."

"Don't be so sure of yourself, George Farrington. With the right 
treatment, he'll probably be as easy as you were," she said with a 
coquettish smile. "I can show him one hell of a lot more than that 
pretty little wife of his, and I'll bet he knows it. You saw how 
attentive he was the last time they were here. If you hadn't said no, I 
would have taken him to bed right then."

"You are anxious, aren't you?"

"Jealous?"

"A little, perhaps, but I always am, for a moment at least. But that 
doesn't last longer than it takes me to get into the sack with your 
friends' wives." George finished adjusting his tie and brushed back the 
grey at his temples with his hands. "I wonder how she's going to react 
when I tell her you have a migrain? And," he added as an afterthought, 
"Wherever you go tonight, stay on the other side of town, away from the 
club. If she saw you it might ruin everything."

"Don't worry, I'll stay away from your precious little game. I should 
find entertainment somewhere tonight, like maybe over at the Lessing's 
house. There's always more than enough excitement there."

"Well, don't let your excitement stay too long if you bring him home. 
I'll be back before three. O.K.?"

"O.K." Abby laughed. "Come give Momma a good night kiss."

George crossed over to the bed, leaned down, and gave his wife a 
playful kiss on the cheek.

"Good night, baby," he smiled. "Don't do anything you'll be ashamed of 
later."

"Fat chance," Abby laughed.

*   *   *

Laura had been ready for twenty minutes when she heard George knocking 
at the door. She gulped the last of her martini, her fourth since her 
husband had left, and walked rather unsteadily to the front door.

"Good evening, fair damsel," George smiled as the front door opened. 
"Your pumpkin has just arrived."

"Ah, wonderful," Laura replied, laughing. "Let me just get my mink." 
She moved across to the sofa and picked up her rather faded cloth coat, 
slinging it over her arm. "Shouldn't need this, I just take it for 
effect."

"My lady, if you'll pardon my saying so, your mink looks like rabbit."

"And my rabbit looks like hell, I know," Laura giggled.

"But you look stunning."

"Why sir, how gallant of you."

As they walked out the door, George told her that Abby had a terrible 
migrain and wouldn't be with them. Laura thought it was strange that 
Abby should get a headache on a night like this, especially after 
spending all afternoon getting ready. Nothing seems to be happening 
right today, she thought with a slightly audible sigh. Well, I hope 
nothing else goes wrong.

"Well, George," she said with a forced smile, "we may as well enjoy our 
evening alone. Two stood-up people have to do the best they can."

He smiled at her as he closed the door of the convertible, then walked 
to the other side. Once seated, he started the big engine and pulled 
away from the curb.

Laura usually paid attention when George drove. She thought he was 
still a teenager at heart, the way he sped through residential areas, 
not to mention the ninety mile an hour rides on the freeways, but 
tonight she didn't care how he drove. Her thoughts were centered around 
Bill and her marriage. Confused and hurt, she had no idea how to 
recapture her husband from his work. She decided that she didn't care 
about the money, about the past, their problems, anything. She wanted 
her husband back. He had been a stranger too long, she thought almost 
desperately.

Was it possible that she was losing, or perhaps had already lost her 
sex appeal? Her mind searched every avenue trying to discover the real 
cause for her husband's neglect. Of course Bill was constantly worried 
that his past might be found out - but still, that didn't seem to be 
reason enough for his neglect of her. Her ears were deaf to George's 
continuous flow of words as they drove along the freeway at his usual 
ninety miles an hour. Laura was oblivious to the traffic and the 
danger: her mind was already fogged by too many martinis.

Perhaps, she thought, Bill took her for granted. Perhaps she could make 
him jealous, and then he would have to pay attention to her. It 
certainly wouldn't be hard. She wouldn't have to do anything. She could 
be secretive about her night out with George when Bill asked her how 
the party went. There could be no harm in that. George was a good 
friend.

She smiled and sat a little straighter, adjusting an imaginary out-of-
place hair on her head. After all, George wouldn't mind being used ... 
especially if he didn't know about it.

Laura had never even flirted with the idea of being unfaithful to her 
husband. Their marriage had always been satisfactory enough, up until 
the last few months. More than a few men had asked her out, knowing she 
was married. Always flattered, but never unfaithful, she had always 
turned them down.

But now, to her liquor-fogged brain, the idea of making Bill jealous 
seemed like a good one. She turned her attention to the man behind the 
steering wheel. I wonder, she thought, how he is to Abby in bed.

"Oh," she said out loud, amazed that she could have had such a lewd 
thought. Never in her life had she any ideas relating to other people's 
sex life. It had always been a private thing, not to be discussed or 
even thought of.

"What was that for," George asked her.

"Oh, nothing," Laura stammered, "I-I forgot my compact. I remember now, 
I left it on the dresser." She was embarrassed to talk with him after 
picturing him in bed with Abby, but somehow she couldn't get the 
thought out of her mind. She even wondered how he might be with her, 
how he might please her. She fought to purge the images from the back 
of her head, but they persisted, until suddenly, she hiccupped from the 
embarrassment.

George laughed. "How many of those martinis did you drink after we 
left?" he asked. "More than your share I'll bet. Do you feel like 
continuing?"

"Of course, I want to go. These silly things will go away. All I have 
to do is hold my breath ..." Laura took in a lungful of air, raising 
her full, firmly set breasts higher, straining against her dress, 
unconscious of George's fixed stare at her up-thrust breasts. For 
nearly a minute she imprisoned the air in her lungs, while her face 
reddened under her light makeup. "... Like that," she said, exhaling, 
"and they'll be gone. See! Hiccup!"

"Try putting your head between your knees and holding your breath 
again," George laughed. "That works when nothing else does."

Eager to rid herself of hiccups and equally as eager for some unknown 
reason to please her friend, she did as George said. She pulled her 
miniskirt higher up her smooth legs until without realizing it, she had 
exposed the soft firm flesh of her upper thighs. George could hardly 
keep his eyes on the road while he watched her put her head down 
between her open knees and inhale another deep breath. Her sensuously 
tanned thighs invited him to touch them and it was all he could do to 
restrain himself and keep his hands on the wheel.

Laura kept her head between her knees a little longer than necessary. 
Alcohol and her sudden wicked thoughts of what George would be like in 
bed gave her the bravado of a little daring that she had never 
experienced before. She became aware of her next door neighbor's 
sidelong glances in her direction, and enjoyed having him look at her 
legs. It couldn't hurt anything, and besides, she half giggled to 
herself, she was titillated by the cool air from the vents blowing up 
between her opened thighs and gently caressing the softness of her 
panty-covered pubic mound.

She had a smile on her face as she lifted her head up and exhaled. "I 
think they're gone," she said, waiting a moment to be sure. She 
purposely left her skirt high on her daringly exposed thighs. She 
wasn't ashamed of feeling slightly excited, if it was only in thought. 
That much couldn't hurt anything.

"Here, have a little of this," George said, pulling a flask from the 
glove compartment. "Martinis from the flask, ready to drink. I always 
mix some before I go out. It saves not only time, but a little money if 
I'm half-lit before I get to wherever I'm going."

Laura started to refuse, but changed her mind. So what if I'm drunk, 
she thought. One or two more won't hurt. I'm not a child. I can hold my 
liquor as well as anyone.

She took the leather-covered flask and put it to her lips, taking a 
full swallow, and strained not to start coughing. It tasted strange for 
a martini, but she didn't dwell on it. She had no idea that George had 
fixed the bottle with something extra before coming to pick her up. She 
had no idea that he was well versed in the art of aphrodisiacs. He had 
just put enough in so that they would not be affected too strongly ... 
only enough to be suggestive: he would let the liquor and her 
disappointment with her husband do the rest.

He pulled into the club's entranceway, stopped and walked around the 
car to open the door for her.

"Ooops," she said, giggling as she got out of the car and nearly 
stumbled. "I've had too much to drink already."

"Nonsense, silly girl, you're just not used to the night air," he said, 
the smile still spread across his face.

"GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS - TOPLESS AND BOTTOMLESS."

Laura gasped when she saw the sign, trying to cover her shock. For a 
moment she stood still, halting George on his walk to the door. Oh no, 
she thought. I can't ... but ... I'm a grown married woman now. I can 
take this. She giggled again, trying to suppress her strict Midwestern 
morality, and walked through the doorway, followed by George who tipped 
the doorman his usual exaggerated tip.

Laura felt her sobriety weaken as she entered the club. Strobe lights 
beat a weird rhythm to the music and for a brief moment she discovered 
that she was having trouble walking with the lights beating at her eyes 
in the off and on strange patterns. She glanced up at the stage in 
front of her to see six over large breasts bouncing wildly to the 
blaring music. Quickly she lowered her eyes to the floor to watch her 
feet follow George and the Ma tre d' to their table.

"Anything wrong?" George asked her, knowing she was shocked.

She shook her head bravely, her moving head only further confusing her 
senses. The strobe lights beat a strange and haunting rhythm on her 
brain and body. The potion in George's martini flask was beginning to 
take effect, but she refused to recognize it at first. She watched the 
dancer until she heard George's voice at her ear.

"Where are you, Laura? You look a thousand miles away."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she quickly apologized. "It's just that I've never 
seen anything like this before. I wonder how those girls must feel up 
there with nothing covering them, dancing hour after hour. They must be 
awfully bored."

"Probably no more bored than you."

"George, no. I'm having a wonderful time," she apologized again. "If 
I'm a little silent it's just the liquor. Really, you could never bore 
me."

"That's not really what I'm talking about," he said.

"I don't understand."

"I mean Bill. I know it's probably none of my business, but I've 
noticed that he doesn't seem to pay much attention to you anymore. I 
wasn't surprised at all that you had been drinking when I picked you up 
tonight. I've been hitting the bottle pretty hard lately myself because 
of Abby. So I know how you feel."

Laura listened to him, feeling the warmth of his breath as he talked to 
her. He had moved closer so she could hear him over the pounding music. 
She suddenly felt very close to this gentle man. They were sharing an 
experience and she felt a kinship that only a shared loneliness can 
bring.

"I didn't know, George. I thought you and Abby were happy. I've never 
noticed anything that would make anyone suspect you were having 
problems too."

"Oh, we're good actors, Laura. It's been almost three years since we've 
really gotten along. We haven't even been to bed together in the last 
year. I sleep out in the guest room."

Laura was shocked. "I had no idea. Here I've been brooding about my 
life and I'm in heaven compared to you." She leaned over and kissed his 
cheek affectionately.

George smiled under the flashing strobes. It was going even easier than 
he thought. "Is it all right to ask what is wrong between you and 
Bill?" he ventured.

"I'd tell you if I knew," Laura said. "But I don't. I thought it was 
his work, but even on the weekends he's too busy for me. I guess I'm 
just losing my sex appeal. I'm old before my time."

"Nonsense," Laura's neighbor said. "There isn't a man in this room who 
wouldn't want to take you to bed right now."

"George, you're so sweet."

"Let's dance," George suggested. "The music is slower for a minute or 
two. They've got to give those dancers a break sometime."

The couple joined the throng that headed for the dance floor; there 
were always more people dancing when the music slowed. Laura swung into 
George's arms and felt them close protectively around her. The drug's 
effect was at its full power as their bodies met and started to dance 
to the slow rhythm, and the drum seemed to beat in tune with Laura's 
heart as she followed George slowly around the floor.

Her voluptuous breasts were strained through her dress against him and 
because she wore no brassiere, the taut nipples nearly pierced the 
thin, sheer material. Bill never let her wear a brassiere, saying that 
it weakened her pectoral muscles, and he was right, she thought as she 
felt her tingling breasts crush harder against George's strong body. 
She could feel his leg slip between hers as they danced, and a light 
dampness eased its way from her trembling vagina to the rosy pink lips 
of her pussy. She had never felt like this by just dancing. There 
seemed to be no explanation for the fire that was beginning to build 
deep inside her, and she tried tentatively to pull away from George. 
Making Bill jealous was a good plan, but she certainly didn't want to 
go too far.

But her neighbor had other plans. He knew the potion he'd put in the 
drinks was affecting the girl as it was starting to affect him, and 
instead of allowing her to move away he tightened his grip around her 
slender waist and pulled her tighter to him. And even though afraid, 
Laura felt a kind of comfort in his strong arms. Her drug-weakened body 
clung involuntarily to him as though she suddenly had lost all control 
over it.

The young wife closed her eyes, trying to shut out the flashing 
strobes, but their intense light shown through her eyelids and seemed 
to beat with undeniable insistency into her mind. The tempo of the 
music had increased, yet the two still held close to each other, still 
danced with their bodies molded as one. Laura's mind was starting to 
play sexual fantasies somewhere deep within her, and, unbelievably, her 
body was responding. She could feel her heaving breasts crushed against 
George's chest, with only the thin veneer of light summer clothing 
between his hirsute manliness and her tautly aroused nipples.

The music, liquor and aphrodisiac had become too much for the helpless 
young woman. She opened her eyes and, seeing a single topless dancer 
undulating on the stage, she began to dance the same patterns as the 
girl as she pushed away from George. She jerked her body in rhythm to 
the wild beat, throwing her arms out, feeling her bra-less breasts 
bounce unencumbered beneath the sheer white of her summer dress. She 
was perspiring and breathing heavily, aware only of the hot flashes of 
aroused abandonment that were beginning to course through her drug-
filled body.

As she danced, she watched the single topless girl on the stage as 
though hypnotized. Instead of being embarrassed, as perhaps she would 
normally have been, she was intent on becoming that girl, or becoming 
as free, as passionate, as sexually liberated as that girl must be. The 
dancer's dark-nippled breasts moved with mesmerizing grace under the 
glaring influence of the rotating lights, and Laura's imagination 
transported herself to the strobe-lit stage, dancing half-naked in 
front of more than two hundred people, throwing her arms in the 
controlled sensual movements of a professional Go-Go Girl.

Her frantically undulating hips jerked to the beat, in perfect rhythm 
with her dancing breasts. She felt free, alive. She was in a sexual 
fantasy world of her own, but wanting, needing a man. Suddenly, the 
dancer on the stage unfastened her g-string and let it fall to the 
floor, purposefully exposing the thinly open slit of her clean-shaven 
pussy. But Laura felt no shock at the sudden display, so wrapped up was 
she in her own imagination. Instead she remained dancing, imagining 
herself now totally naked as well. To her drug-dazzled mind, reality 
was not on the dance floor, but on the stage. She was now that girl. 
She was now totally exposed before the crowd. Her aroused loins were on 
fire and for the first time in months she felt like a woman! She was a 
woman!

Laura looked at George, dancing three feet from her, imitating the same 
soul searing movements of the dance she was doing, and she began 
dancing for him, not even aware of who he was, only that he was a man. 
This for the moment, was her man ... and ... she was his woman!

The fire up between her spasming thighs grew hotter as she threw up her 
arms and tossed her head from side to side in a dance that began more 
and more to imitate the sexual act. Her frantically moving hips thrust 
forward, again and again, and George responded by moving closer, 
grinding his heavy pelvis at her as though he were taking her right 
there on the dance floor. Their grinding and jerking bodies were only 
inches from each other now, and one of George's legs was moving between 
hers as they danced, rubbing maddeningly against the satiny flesh of 
her exposed upper thigh. Her mini-skirt was hiked high on her 
rhythmically moving legs as she bent backward and forward in the most 
primeval motions of dance.

As though entranced, the young wife watched her partner's hand reach 
out slowly toward her like a snake in the Garden of Eden, beckoning, 
urging her to come closer. The hand found her waist and drew her closer 
until their bodies touched at their loins. Laura gasped as she felt his 
huge penis hard beneath his trousers, straining at her involuntarily. 
She ground her hips against him, her mouth open, breathing heavily, 
spurred salaciously on by the growing fire inside her. The lights 
flashed in brilliant colors on her half-open eyelids and she put her 
hand on the back of his neck, leaning backward, pushing her desire-
inflamed loins against his straining penis. She stared at him as though 
he were a stranger, her eyes searching for his identity. Each beat of 
the drum pounded at her, exciting her further, and she could almost 
feel their naked bodies touching. She imagined them to be on a bed, 
ready for each other, ready for the final thrust that would connect 
their flesh together.

Suddenly, George pulled her closer, and kissed her brutally, crushing 
her lips against his open mouth, thrusting his tongue deep into her 
throat.

Oh my God, she thought. What is happening! The shock of her neighbor's 
sudden kiss forced its way into her aroused and drugged brain, turning 
her to ice as she came abruptly to her senses. She wanted the kiss, 
needed it desperately, but she knew it was wrong, horribly wrong.

"No, George ..." she managed to say breathlessly. She struggled out of 
his powerful hold, dazed, not quite sure yet what was happening, but 
knowing something was wrong, realizing that this place, this music, 
George Farrington, everything, had excited and aroused her far beyond 
the danger-point.

She was frightened, knowing that George excited her, that she wanted 
him! But she had gone too far, too fast. She must stop.

She turned and walked quickly but unsteadily from the dance floor 
toward the door, bumping into people as she left. George Farrington, 
smiling broadly, followed her outside, picking up her wrap at the hat 
check. Round one, he knew, was his.



Chapter 2


The headlights of the passing cars glared into Laura's half-closed eyes 
as the white convertible sped along the divided freeway. Not a word had 
been spoken since they had left the nightclub, and Laura was grateful 
for George Farrington's silence. Her confused brain whirled with shame 
and embarrassment as she recalled her lewdly uninhibited behavior on 
the dance floor, and she thought guiltily that everything that had 
happened had been her fault. How could she have been so wanton, so 
uncontrollably obscene? She knew that the answer must lie in the fact 
that her sexual needs had been so long unfulfilled, but that was no 
excuse for the spectacle she had made of herself.

She didn't blame her next door neighbor one bit for having responded to 
what she considered her brazen overtures while they danced, and she 
knew that, in losing control of herself, whether because of the liquor, 
or the atmosphere of the nightclub, she had perhaps ruined their 
friendship. Little did she realize, of course, that her fatal weakening 
had been planned for, and exploited by, the man sitting next to her in 
the car - the man she assumed was her friend.

Deep in self accusation, Laura failed to notice the bright lights of 
the exit turnoff. George had driven off the freeway far from either of 
their homes and he seemed to know exactly where he was going. The 
intoxicated young girl, far on the other side of the car, paid no 
attention to him, but he didn't care at the moment. He knew the liquor 
and sex potion he'd given her were still powerful enough to turn her on 
again if he played his cards carefully. He smiled to himself as he 
realized that his plan was working perfectly and that her seduction was 
assured.

Laura watched the lights of the city grow smaller as they drove up 
Mountain View Drive. Her senses were still fogged, and each impression 
that she received through her eyes was a singular and momentary one, 
giving her only time enough to analyze each light, each sense 
separately. Her mind slowly calmed as she watched the beautiful city 
unfold below her, spreading for miles in lines of brilliant lights, 
illuminating every block of the huge valley. She felt completely alone 
until the car pulled into a secluded parking spot at the topmost 
viewpoint of the drive.

"I thought you'd like the view," George said matter-of-factly, as he 
got out of the car. He walked to the other side and opened her door, 
holding his hand for her to grasp as she nearly stumbled from the 
interior of the automobile. "It's too beautiful a place to pass without 
stopping on a clear night like this. Besides, it should clear both our 
heads a little," he said, with a reassuring laugh.

Laura said nothing as she followed him toward the edge of the cliff. 
She looked silently, awed by the creations of electrical engineers that 
had illuminated the city with bulbs of every size, shape and color, 
giving it an almost supernatural glow. Somehow it seemed perfectly 
natural to her that George should put his arms around her petite waist 
as he stood behind her, looking over her soft shoulders at the 
spectacle below. That meant they still were friends, she thought 
drunkenly, and she felt strangely at home in his arms. For a moment the 
guilt returned, but was swept away in an instant as George slowly 
lifted his arms, positioning his hands at the fullness of her quivering 
breasts. At first Laura jumped at his electric touch, but then the 
drugs she'd consumed stilled her conscience, and she gave herself over 
to the comforting, relaxing sensations his hands were giving her.

George smiled as he felt all resistance flow out of his helpless 
victim. He could feel the taut nipples of her voluptuous breasts 
pulsating eagerly beneath the thin material of the light dress. The 
cool air and events of the night had kept them almost hard since they 
had been dancing at the discotheque, and his expert ministrations urged 
them on. Laura's head lolled back without resistance against his 
shoulder as he urgently massaged her softly resilient flesh. She put 
her hands over his, entwining their fingers.

"Ooooooh, George," she murmured softly, her aroused body shifting with 
the movements of his hands. There was no thought now of her husband, no 
thought of the man she had vowed to love. Only the gentle urgings of 
the hands manipulating her tingling flesh into the white-hot heat of 
desire.

Cupping her hands over his, she started to turn, but George took the 
lead and pulled her around to him. They stood, their bodies touching 
full length, and looked at each other. He's so good, she thought. So 
gentle. Nothing he could do would be wrong ... nothing ... The rock-
hard bulge in George's trousers twitched lewdly against her smoothly 
flat belly, and she felt the dampness between her legs renewed as her 
thoughts suddenly envisioned what the huge swollen member would feel 
like worming around deep inside her love-starved cunt. There was no 
turning back now. It had been too long ... much too long. And almost 
eagerly she let George draw her lips to his and kiss her, softly at 
first, then more urgently.

Her lips pressed hard against his, open and willing to take his tongue 
as it probed the depths of her unresisting mouth. Small moans of erotic 
stimulation gurgled from deep in her throat, and the drug she had 
unwittingly consumed made his touch seem godlike. She was a Grecian 
princess standing on a hill above ancient Athens, about to be taken for 
the first time by a ghost-like creature who had come to her in a dream. 
A strange, erotic dream that knew no right or wrong, only passion and 
an all consuming desire that mattered above all else ...

They stood motionless as George pulled his lips from hers and gazed 
momentarily into her eyes. He knew she was ready but she surprised him 
by how ready she was.

"Oh, please," she cried, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. 
"Let's make love, George."

Her words were those of a woman who hungered for escape from the fears 
that plagued her insecure life. She was afraid of being alone, afraid 
of being unloved, and her words surprised her as much as they did 
George; but she did not try to take them back. She had said them, and 
she somehow, through the honesty of her alcohol and drug-dimmed mind, 
knew she wanted him. The drug had taken complete control of her mind 
and body and nothing else in the world mattered.

George laughed triumphantly to himself, and led his young neighbor 
trance-like, to the open car door. He didn't release his hold on her, 
his one hand fondled her rock-hard nipples as the other hand reached 
for a lever on the back of one seat, releasing a catch that held it 
upright.

Laura felt her conscience shouting at her as she watched the seat 
descend to a reclining position, but she ignored it, and bent robot-
like to enter the car. She released the other catch herself and rolled 
onto her back on the driver's seat as it fell gently back. She lay back 
trembling on the car seat, her legs slightly parted and waiting to be 
taken. And, in spite of her desire, she was slightly afraid: it was all 
new to her and for all practical purposes she felt like a virgin. No 
man had ever touched her except her husband, but now he seemed like 
only a dream. Everything was so unreal. She couldn't stop her brain 
from whirling around crazily, and each movement of arms and legs and 
bodies as the couple came together in a fiery embrace was slow motion, 
preplanned, unhindered by inhibition.

Laura felt her neighbor's legs tangle in hers, pressing hard against 
her velvety thighs as his moist tongue pursued a course under her 
throat and down her bare chest to the voluptuous valley between her 
youthfully firm breasts, and she reveled in his touch. No man had 
touched her for a month. No lips had tried to caress her breasts as 
these were doing. She felt him slip the straps of her dress over her 
snow-white shoulders and pull the top lower until suddenly her 
quiveringly erect nipples were free in the air, free to be touched and 
tantalized.

"Ooh, yes," she whispered. "That feels so good." The young wife spread 
her ivory thighs farther apart so that she could feel the fullness of 
his strong body pressing heavily against the wetness between her legs. 
She felt him grasp her wrist as he pulled her hand down to his 
throbbingly erect penis, and she voluntarily stroked the incredibly 
massive muscle that was trying to free itself from the imprisonment of 
his clothing. She rubbed softly at first, then harder, hearing George 
groan in appreciation. For a moment she stopped as he half rose and 
stripped her dress from her body.

George halted long enough to look down in the dim moonlight at the 
sleekly sensuous curves of the woman who lay beneath him. There was no 
flaw, no blemish. He could see the shadowy triangle of soft pubic hair 
beneath the white silk bikini panties she wore, and he tugged at them 
until she lifted her hips to ease their removal.

While he hurriedly undressed himself, Laura lay hypnotically back, 
watching, waiting as his straining cock sprang free from his shorts. It 
was as large as any she had imagined - even when she had been stroking 
it she had not thought it would be as large as this. Bill was nothing 
compared to the giant of a man that kneeled on the car seat beside her 
now, and a shiver of lewd anticipation rippled through the young woman 
again as she thought of his erect cock's pleasure-giving thickness 
grinding around deep up inside her warm moist belly.

For a long moment Laura's aroused neighbor knelt above her trembling 
form, his breath coming in quick and excited gasps. Then he fell upon 
her, ravaging the softness of her naked flesh with passionate kisses, 
his massive cock pressed hard against the outside of her squirming 
thigh, its heated length searing into her tortured nerves. She writhed 
against him, trying to get him to change his position, but he was the 
leader. He ran his hand quickly down her sides and across the soft 
silken mound at the base of her helpless belly. She could feel the 
fingers grope for a moment, spreading the softness of her silken pubic 
hair, and then, finding the smooth fleshy slit between her legs, 
suddenly slip into place and begin gently massaging her already swollen 
clitoris.

"Oh, oh, oh," she gasped. It had been so long, so long, and now, now 
she was going to be taken by another man, by one of her husband's best 
friends! Forcing all thoughts of guilt from her mind, she lifted her 
hips to meet his lewdly insinuating finger and increase the pressure 
against her neglected womanhood.

"Put it in," she begged. "Please put it in."

George responded by swiftly slipping his middle finger into her 
hungrily open vagina, and pushing deeply, expertly.

"Oooooohhhhh," she sighed as he began to rotate it around up inside her 
warmly seeping passage in large circles, caressing the softly fleshy 
walls of her burning cunt with a maddening thoroughness she had never 
known before.

"Ooooooh, God, George," she groaned through her tightly pressed lips. 
Then he slipped another finger into the open passage.

"How do you like that?" he asked gently, knowing he was driving the 
helpless girl out of her mind.

"Oh, yes, please, more," she sighed, sucking in her breath from the 
excruciating pleasure he was bringing her.

George moved his fingers back and forth inside her, like a small child 
walking with his fingers. Laura closed her eyes and pumped her aching 
loins upward again and again. Her vaginal opening had tightened from so 
little use, but now it seemed to flower open farther and farther as his 
obscenely probing fingers excited her to greater and greater heights, 
vanquishing all the ugly frustration of the last few months.

"Please," she murmured, tiny beads of sweat forming on her forehead. 
"Take me now, George, please! I can't stand it any more!"

"Yes, now!" the burly man hissed, then guided his massive cock up 
between her widespread legs and against the tightly pleading opening of 
her desire-inflamed cunt. He probed for a moment, teasing the softly 
hair-lined lips and feeling the enticingly tender flesh beneath him 
open wider. "Ooooooh, ooooooh!" Laura cried as she felt the bulbous 
head slip wetly inside her sex-starved vagina, worming slowly into her 
yearning passage and filling her with all the hardened male flesh she 
could stand. Her lust-incited senses completely controlled her as her 
husband's friend thrust his pulsating cock deeper and deeper up into 
her spastically heaving belly. "Oh, more, more!" she cried aloud, 
kicking her legs open wider around his pistoning body to take him as 
deep as she could up between them.

George was surprised at her fury, and her lust-abandoned moans excited 
him further. He stopped for a moment, his great shaft of blood-engorged 
flesh sunk inside her to the hilt, his sperm-filled balls brushing 
lightly against the softly rounded moons of her smooth buttocks. He 
watched as she thrashed her head from side to side, her mouth open, 
tears of wild, erotic pleasure in her eyes.

"Please, George, please, give it to me!!"

And the lust-swollen muscle inside her began to stroke slowly in and 
out between her helplessly dangling legs, a few inches only at first: 
Out for an inch or two, then slipping wetly back inside again as George 
took control of himself. He wanted this to last; he wanted Bill 
Wilson's wife to remember this for the rest of her life!

Laura groaned as she felt the maddening movement caressing the 
moistened walls of her fully dilated cunt. She lifted her trembling 
knees higher and braced the bottom of her feet against the convertible 
roof of the car. Her tensed buttocks strained up off the seat, her 
hungrily throbbing vagina reaching violently up for George's white-hot 
rod of flesh as it began to increase its maddening pitch. In perfect 
control, George guided his massively straining cock with merciless 
precision, lengthening each stroke a fraction of an inch more with each 
grinding thrust. Bill's wife groaned beneath him and settled into the 
rhythm, meeting his driving pelvis with her own moistly contracting 
cunt, tormented beyond her wildest dreams.

Her insides felt as though they were about to burst. With each stroke 
the brilliant strobe-like flashes in her mind intensified. She thrust 
upward, harder and harder, trying to fill herself completely with his 
licentiously pulsing hardness. Never had such a great cock filled her, 
never had she known such excitement. The aphrodisiac George had given 
her intensified every feeling until she thought she would go insane.

Laura dug her nails into his hard-driving buttocks and her lover's 
hands grasped at her soft flesh, nearly pulling it from her. The pain 
of his strong grip heightened her torturous pleasure, and every inch of 
her body caught on fire with dancing electric shocks snaking their way 
at the speed of light through her helplessly writhing young body, 
throwing her into a nether world beyond the reality of the world 
outside, concentrating her entire being on the unbelievable sensations 
the man above her was giving her.

Her buttocks began to tighten orgasmically, the muscles grasping at the 
monstrous cock driving into her and flexing desperately around it. Her 
tiny anus puckered inward again and again, and she tried to hold back 
for a moment longer, making the seconds last. Even in her wild, untamed 
fury everything was slow motion ... each second seemed like a minute 
... the muscles in her cock-filled belly were responding to the call of 
her clasping buttocks and tingling anus ... she was almost there ... 
almost ...

A great wave welled up inside her and the first convulsion started 
lazily, far down in the hidden depths of her quivering belly, and 
rolled downward like the sea with increasing power until it hit the 
bottom of her grinding pelvis at her cuntal opening, crashing against 
her just as George's pelvic bone crushed into her. The next came 
faster, snapping like a whip.

"Aaarrrrrggghhhh! Now! God, I'm cumming now, oh, oh, I'm 
cummmmmmiiiinnnng! Aarrgghh!!" she moaned out adulterously into the 
night air.

The twisting young woman jerked up again as her entire being seemed to 
snap - again and again the violent waves of her orgasm crashed through 
her and she rebounded with them, jerking upward again and again. Her 
orgasmic juices filled her desperately sucking vaginal passage, 
lubricating it more and more, until the warm liquid sensation was too 
much for George to bear. Unable to prolong the delicious sensation, he 
rose up, throwing his head in circles from side to side.

"Aaaarrrrrggghhhh!" he roared, like an animal about to attack, and the 
pressure in his heavily swinging balls burst as his white-hot cum 
erupted from his straining testicles and spurted from his cock-head 
deep up into her desperately flowering cunt.

Laura was still cumming when she felt his semen hotly filling her naked 
belly, adding more fuel to the already unbearable fires of her lust.

"Oh. OOoooh, God, Oooooh!" she cried out and her head rolled helplessly 
from side to side on the squeaking car seat as George fell on top of 
her completely spent, crushing her with his weight. Her eyes were 
closed, but her attention was still focused on the furnace within her, 
still smoldering in the aftermath of her spent passions. Her legs 
dropped limply to her sides as she felt George's cock soften inside 
her, and then slip from her wetly satiated cunt with a satisfying plop.

She lay still for awhile, trying to force her mind to stay on the 
present, on the pleasure she had just experienced, on George's heavy 
breathing as he still lay on top of her. But, the violence of her 
orgasm had loosened the hold the liquor and drugs she'd taken had 
gained on her, and she became aware of the persistent gnawing that was 
budding up inside her: the gnawing of her repressed conscience. Laura's 
dazed mind began slowly, painfully, to focus on the events of the 
evening, from her husband's departure to Dallas, through all the 
drinking, the dancing, and now ... this final act of obscene infidelity 
with her husband's friend. She tried to channel her mind back to the 
beautiful sensations that had filled her only minutes before, but it 
was impossible.

Oh God, she thought guiltily, what have I done? What am I going to do? 
I ... I must have been crazy to do this ... I must have been insane! 
Tears began to well up in her clouded eyes as she began to recognize 
the seriousness of her unfaithfulness. Bill was in Dallas, working for 
her and their life together, facing the possibility that his past might 
be discovered, spelling the end of their lives in Oak Park. And she, 
debased and despicable as she was, was giving herself to another man in 
a parked car like some ... some nymphomaniac school girl!

"We'd better go, what do you say?" George said as he lifted himself 
finally from between her sperm-covered thighs. She nodded, but didn't 
say anything. He handed her the white bikini panties that were still 
moist with the first secretions of her earlier excitement, and they 
both got dressed.

Tears filled Laura's eyes as she tried to think what to say to her next 
door neighbor. She didn't want to hurt him; he was so gentle and 
understanding, and it wasn't his fault that she'd been unfaithful to 
her husband. It was no one's fault but her own. She had to say that she 
was sorry, but she had to say it in such a way so as not to lose his 
friendship.

Neither said anything as they drove toward the Wilson's home. Laura 
decided that George was probably thinking exactly what she was 
thinking, that it was a mistake, something that would not have happened 
if they had not been drunk. He would understand, of course he would. 
After all, he had understood everything else when they had talked 
before. But, she vowed to herself, it also was something that would 
never ever happen again as long as she lived!

She stared silently out the window as the convertible sped toward Oak 
Park. George Farrington sat beside her, smiling.



Chapter 3


George Farrington's white convertible eased up into the circular 
driveway of the Wilson's Oak Park home. George turned off the lights, 
and turned to the half lifeless figure on the seat beside him.

"Come on, Laura, you're home," he said dispassionately.

Laura straightened up on the seat, half-heartedly running a hand 
through her snarled blonde hair. She had been crying all the way home, 
crying until no more tears would come, and her mascara was now rivered 
in dried streaks along her reddened cheeks. Her mind was made up. 
Surely George would understand when she told him how terrible she felt 
about what had happened, and that it couldn't happen again. And she 
felt sure he would not tell her husband about her unconscionable 
infidelity that evening.

"You don't have to walk me to the door, George," she said, as her 
neighbor got out of the car and came around to open her door for her. 
"I'm fine, really. There's something I want to say to you."

"You can tell me inside," George said carelessly, taking the key she 
had pulled from her purse as she stepped out of the car. "What we need 
now is a little hot coffee."

"No. George, really I ..."

"You're not going to say no to me now, are you?" he said, almost 
pushing her toward the front door. He unlocked the door, and then 
stepped inside. George looked for a moment for the illuminated night 
switch, then flicked it up. The fluorescent lights flickered hesitantly 
before sharing their energy with the rest of the room.

"George, please, not tonight," Laura said wearily, "Really, I'm very 
tired ..."

"I like mine black," her neighbor said curtly, walking into the living 
room as though he owned the house.

Laura stood in the glaring light for a moment, and then decided it 
would be easier to give him the coffee, and be done with it. She walked 
into the kitchen, but could not remember where she kept the coffee. Get 
a hold on yourself, she thought, as tears started to fill her weary 
eyes again. How am I going to do anything if I fall apart. Where is the 
coffee? The white canister stood where it always did on the counter 
next to the built-in range.

She walked to the counter and removed the wooden lid, automatically 
scooping six tablespoons of the freshly ground beans into the clean 
white pot. Staring at the percolator, she became impatient that it 
would not perk immediately. This is ridiculous, she thought. I'm 
standing in my own kitchen making coffee for a man who has just made 
love to me, a man who is supposed to be my friend, and now I've used 
him, and he is going to think it represents something more. Why must I 
have these problems? What is becoming of me?

The image Laura saw reflected in the glass door of the oven was one of 
a woman who did not deserve the good life she had, she thought. I look 
like a whore, and now I'm beginning to feel like one. But I'll find a 
way out, I just have to. The coffee started to boil over. It had been 
perking too long.

"Where's my coffee," George shouted from the living room, just before 
she swung open the kitchen door and entered the room. Her neighbor was 
sitting on the overstuffed couch in front of the stone fireplace. He 
had built a fire that was already roaring, and was looking through a 
new woman's magazine that Laura had purchased the day before.

"These women's magazines are unbelievable," he said, smiling almost 
contemptuously at her as she crossed the room. "There is more sex and 
sex problems in this single issue than anyone could ever find in real 
life. It's no wonder that women can think of nothing else to talk 
about, except their sex lives, or the sex lives they wished they had. I 
probably would too if I read this kind of trash all the time."

"That's not so," Laura said, finding that she was defending herself. 
She wanted to get to the point and make things clear to George. 
Confession was supposed to be good for the soul, and she wanted to tell 
him that she had used him. He was too kind, too intelligent not to 
understand.

"Those magazines have good advice, George. Maybe if more women read 
them, and maybe men, too, you and I wouldn't have the marriage problems 
we do," she said, handing him a cup of hot black coffee.

"Thank you. Here, have some of this," he said, pulling the leather 
covered liquor flask from his pocket. "I saved some for us."

"No, George, I can't ..." she protested as he poured a shot into her 
cup. "What I wanted to talk to you about, George, is this. What 
happened tonight was a horrible mistake. It just can't be allowed to 
happen again."

"A mistake? Who the hell are you trying to kid, Laura? I'm not a school 
boy. You practically raped me on the dance floor, and certainly didn't 
object when we drove to Mountain View. Now you are going to try to tell 
me it was a mistake? What's the matter, didn't you like it? Say no to 
that and you take the cake as liar of the year."

"George, we were drunk ..."

"Oh, hell, that didn't make any difference. You were as horny as a 
Goddamn bitch in heat."

"Please," Laura pleaded. "Try to listen. I don't want you to 
misunderstand. You must believe me. I ..."

"Drink your coffee. We came inside for coffee didn't we?" he said. 
"Don't shake your head. Drink your coffee!"

Laura obeyed. His tone frightened her, and she picked up the cup, 
sipping at the laced drink. Surprisingly the liquor he had poured into 
the cup wasn't bitter at all. It added a little something to the taste, 
more of a tang, than an alcoholic taste. She took a big gulp and George 
smiled.

"George, I was going to try to make Bill jealous. I wanted to use you. 
I'm sorry for that. I didn't mean it to go so far. I - I just got 
carried away."

Her neighbor laughed. Use me, he thought, that has got to be the 
ultimate! She wanted to use me! He couldn't stop laughing.

"What's so funny? What did I say, George?" His laughter increased to 
almost a roar. "Stop it! Please stop it!" she screamed, suddenly afraid 
of him.

He settled down for a moment, still smiling his lewdly contemptuous 
smile. Laura was terrified at the grin on his face, and for the first 
time since she had known him, she was aware that there was more to his 
smile than mirth. "Why - why are you laughing at me?" she asked.

"I suppose you could call it a private joke. I've never been used by a 
woman before, not to go to bed anyway."

Laura sipped at her coffee. She was beginning to feel slightly dizzy 
again. The movements in the room were slowing down, and the fire made 
it much too hot for her. She wanted to hurry and undress upstairs and 
climb into bed.

"I told you," she said. "I didn't want us to go that far."

"Sure you did. Don't you think for one minute that I'm going to believe 
you. You work well, and fast. I never saw a woman so eager to fuck."

"George!" she exclaimed, unable to say anymore. The word had shocked 
her, but the thought it conjured up only excited her. She could not 
understand the sudden erection of her nipples as he had said it. She 
stared down into the blackness of her coffee, aware of that same 
familiar tingling in her body that had led to her earlier loss of 
control, and she trembled slightly. It couldn't be happening to her 
again! She couldn't be letting herself be betrayed by her body yet 
another time! She kept her eyes lowered, hoping that George hadn't seen 
the brief shivers that had left her shaking almost imperceptively as 
she sat before the fire.

"Now, don't worry, Laura," she heard him say, "There's no need for Bill 
to know about any of this. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, and 
besides, if I told him, that would break up our new-found friendship, 
wouldn't it?"

Laura looked up quickly into the obscenely smiling face of the man she 
had thought was so gentle and understanding, and saw at once the full 
import of what he had said mirrored there with unmistakable clarity.

"You don't mean ..." she stammered. "You can't mean you expect this to 
happen again?"

"Sure, sweetheart, why not?" George laughed sadistically. "I mean what 
the hell - it's a perfect set-up for both of us. You've got my kind of 
hot little cunt, baby ... and I've got all the cock you'll ever need."

Laura gasped at the purposefully shocking language he was using, and 
then stood up abruptly, moving angrily toward the fireplace.

"There is no need to talk like that, George Farrington," she said.

"Oh my, are your innocent little ears offended, my little Cinderella? 
Tough shit."

Laura whirled to face her neighbor, stunned and totally confused by 
this abrupt change of manner.

"You're not going to play little Miss Goody-Goody with me, baby ... not 
for a minute. You loved every minute of what happened tonight, just 
like I knew you would ... and now you ..."

"Like you knew I would ...?" Laura repeated, a sudden chill growing in 
her breast.

George paused, looking up at her, and then his face broke into a large, 
confident grin.

"That's right, Laura," he said, with sadistically quiet emphasis, "like 
I knew you would." He watched as Laura sank back down on the couch, 
dumbfounded, not knowing what to make of his surprising revelation. He 
saw her small mouth working helplessly around the unspeakable question. 
"How did I know? Very simple. I could tell you hadn't been getting any 
from your husband in a long time, but that was only enough to put you 
in the right frame of mind. You needed a little help to go all the way, 
and you're drinking some of that help right now."

George couldn't help laughing out loud as Laura's eyes slowly left his, 
and came to rest on the coffee she still held cradled in her hands, 
unable to grasp the full meaning of what he was saying.

"No, my sexy little neighbor, it's not just martinis we've been 
drinking all night. It's a little something special just for you. You 
wouldn't know the technical name, but you might get the picture if I 
said you've had a fly in your drink the whole evening. Have you ever 
heard of aphrodisiacs?"

Laura gasped audibly as she suddenly realized what George had done to 
her. Then it wasn't really her fault! She hadn't been to blame! She had 
been drugged ... it had all been a horribly premeditated plot, and 
she'd just been the innocent victim!

With a cry of anguish and anger both, she flung her coffee cup into the 
fireplace, where it hissed and gurgled out its life in the roaring 
flames. Then she turned the full fury of her attack on her unsuspected 
tormentor, not even aware of what she was saying.

"You ... you ... bastard!!" she cried out. "You had this planned all 
along! You used me ... used me!! ... just like I was nothing more than 
..."

"That's right, Laura, I used you," came the icy reply, "just like you 
thought you had used me."

"Get out!!" Laura screamed hysterically. "Get out of my house right, 
now, you ... you ... Goddamned ..."

George ignored her spluttering, and calmly reached over to refill his 
cup from the coffee pot Laura had brought in, adding a healthy shot 
from his leather flask. He was going to need it before this night was 
over!

"Now calm down, Laura," he finally said. "Calm down, and we'll talk 
about this like two adults."

"There's nothing to talk about!" the young wife hissed furiously, "I'm 
going to tell Bill everything, do you hear? Everything!! And when he 
finds out ..."

"... he'll divorce you, right?" George finished for her.

"No! Never! Not when I tell him what really happened!"

George looked at his neighbor's distraught young wife, at the sexy 
swirls of her long blonde hair as it tumbled in alluring disarray 
across her perspiring forehead, at her heaving breasts and turgid 
nipples so clearly outlined under the thin material of her dress, and 
smiled.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe Bill would understand everything," he 
teased. "But, somehow, I don't think you're going to tell him."

"And why shouldn't I tell him? What makes you think I won't tell him?" 
Laura said confidently, feeling that somehow she now had the advantage.

"I don't think you'll tell him because if you do, I'll wreck his career 
forever, that's why." George's voice was still deathly calm, and it 
made Laura suddenly very uneasy.

"You couldn't. You have no way ..."

"Oh, don't I?" George got up now from where he was sitting, and moved 
so that his back was facing the fireplace, and his eyes danced over 
Laura's tear-streaked face like a cat playing with his prey. And then, 
very, very softly, he asked: "Does the name Ferguson mean anything to 
you?"

Laura felt the room swirl just momentarily as she heard the name, and 
tried desperately to compose her face into some semblance of control.

"No ... no, it doesn't!"

"Then perhaps Coast Financing might jog your memory." George waited 
patiently as Laura tried to say something. "Oh, come now, Laura ... it 
wasn't so very long ago."

The trapped young wife's eyes never left her neighbor's as she sank 
down on the sofa. There was no use trying to hide anything. It was 
obvious that George Farrington somehow, unbelievably, knew everything.

"How ... How do you know this?" Laura murmured almost silently.

"Pure chance, actually. Had a friend of mine down for the weekend a few 
weeks ago. His name is Matthews ... lives in San Francisco. You've 
lived in San Francisco, too, I believe?" George didn't wait for an 
answer. "Well, Matthews and I just happened to be talking one evening 
... oh, he's the president of a finance company in San Francisco, in 
case you're interested ... and I happened to mention that I had some 
neighbors who'd just moved from San Francisco, name of Wilson ... Bill 
Wilson. Well, the name was familiar to my friend, believe it or not 
..." George came closer to Laura, and looked down on her pitilessly, 
"... and that's how I know your husband's an embezzler, sweet lady."

"He's not!" Laura cried out, cupping her face in her hands. "He's not!"

"Maybe not. But will his present employer think that?"

Laura could not comprehend the full impact of what was happening to 
her: Her world was tumbling down on top of her like a fallen fortress, 
whose walls had been demolished by a tremendous onslaught of cannon 
fire. Fear was building in her, but so was another unexplained emotion. 
For the first time in her life she knew that she was completely at 
another person's mercy, and she was surprised to find that she wasn't 
as frightened of that fact, as by the uncertainty that life now held 
for her.

"Do you think you can afford to tell Bill now? I don't think so, Laura. 
No, you are going to do everything I tell you, baby, and without delay. 
If not, Bill will suddenly find it very hot here in Oak Park."

"George ..." she started to argue with him, but knew there were no 
words that would change his mind. "What about Abby? She'll find out 
sooner or later."

"You still haven't caught on, have you?" George laughed. "Abby knows 
all about this tonight. Do you think she could get a headache after 
spending half the day getting ready to go out with us? Not on your 
life! She was out getting herself screwed half silly, just like you. 
The only difference is, she'll probably never see him again. But I plan 
to see a great deal of you."

Laura sat motionless as her neighbor lowered himself to the couch 
beside her. To her horror she also felt a familiar tingling between her 
locked thighs, a tingling she knew now had come only from the insidious 
drug she'd been given.

George continued. "I'm going to see a lot more of you, starting now."

"What do you mean?" the distraught young woman asked, between the soft 
sobs that were beginning to come from her throat. The shock she had 
suffered, realizing that he was not the kind of man she had thought, 
still clouded her mental senses and she could not quite grasp what he 
wanted.

"You're not stupid, Laura. Figure it out for yourself."

"You don't mean that you expect me to continue ..."

"Precisely. You enjoyed it as much as I did, probably more. We can 
continue for a long time, with no annoyances from your husband. His 
past mistake has become our good fortune. He can't object, and for that 
matter, neither can you ... You're trembling. Are you afraid?"

Laura could not answer. Her voice was caught in her throat, and though 
she felt the heat from the roaring fireplace, her abused body shivered 
all over with tiny chills. It might have been easier for her if she 
hadn't already submitted to this horrible monster once. But the thought 
of making love with him a second time moved another uncontrollable 
shudder through her helpless body.

"I want some more of that tight little pussy of yours, baby, and right 
now," George said, grinning lewdly and looking down at Laura's 
unconsciously exposed knees. "We're going up stairs, to bed. There's 
enough aphrodisiac in the two cups that we've had to keep us going all 
night."

Laura recoiled at his words, realizing fully for the first time what he 
was saying. She really had been drugged! All of this had been so 
premeditated that every detail had been taken care of. Laura realized 
that more than a victim of circumstance, she had become a victim of a 
drug, a horrible drug that took her control away. Aware of the cause, 
she now knew why everything had gone into slow motion the whole 
evening. She knew why his touch had been so satisfying earlier, so 
intriguing.

"Let's go," George continued, "I don't like to waste time. We're going 
to screw in your husband's bed. Won't you like that? I'm going to fuck 
you like you've never had it before, and you won't stop begging for it 
until you can't take anymore!"

Again the deliberate coarseness of his words caused Laura to gasp, and 
yet she knew at the same time that he had a hold on her she couldn't 
possibly break out of. If she didn't give in to his obscene desires, 
she knew that he could, and would, go to Bill's boss and ruin all their 
chances for continuing the wonderful life they'd managed to build for 
themselves in Oak Park. The worst part of it was that if anyone at 
Bill's meeting in Dallas knew about his past, their life could be 
ruined just as effectively. So that while Laura had no choice but to 
give herself to her lustfully scheming neighbor, in order to keep him 
silent, she knew full well that it might be to no avail: that Bill 
might come home and tell her that they'd been discovered anyway. And 
yet there was nothing she could do! She had to submit to George 
Farrington on the chance that Bill came back from Dallas undiscovered.

Laura was helpless as George Farrington pulled her from the sofa, 
turned her around, and unfastened the back of her dress, letting it 
fall to the floor. Her panties were in her purse, where she had put 
them after they had finished in the car and now she was completely 
naked as the flaming warmth of the fire licked over the sensitive 
nerve-endings of her skin like some evil tongue of the devil of lust. 
Her soft-ripe nipples rose quickly at the sudden exposure to the air, 
but she stared straight ahead as in a trance as he surveyed her 
luscious body. In spite of her immobility, she couldn't ignore the 
unwanted feelings of arousal that were being born of the horrible drug 
she had unwittingly taken, and she seemed to sense the physical 
presence of her neighbor's eyes as they traveled over the whiteness of 
her nakedly exposed body, looking searchingly for flaws that they would 
not find.

George undressed himself as she stood a few feet from him, his huge 
penis stiffening now, and swaying lewdly as he stepped toward her. That 
was the massive organ which had given her so much before, she thought 
dazedly, and now, it didn't seem to be what she wanted at all. But her 
body knew differently. A faint dampness began to swell in her velvet-
soft vagina, moistening the dark warm passage and softening the already 
trembling lips of her silken cunt.

"Upstairs," George commanded, and Laura felt her body obeying 
mechanically. With all the willpower that she could muster, she tried 
to stop her legs from moving, but it was no use. Each step was as if 
she were walking on a cloud, moving in a dream world, floating with 
every motion. She felt his hand touch her softly swaying buttocks as he 
followed her up the long staircase.

The drugged young wife stopped and turned on the stairs to look down at 
the man following behind her. She watched his large, still semi-hard 
cock swing back and forth like a pendulum as he climbed the stairs, and 
moaned when, his face level with her naked loins, he bent forward and 
kissed the silken hair on her softly trembling pubic mound. The heat of 
his lips seared lewdly through her, and into the nakedness of her over-
stimulated skin. She could feel his tongue wet a small portion of her 
nakedly exposed flesh, and the goose bumps rose all over her as it 
brought an involuntary shudder rippling through her milk-white body.

Oh no! I can't do this, Laura screamed helplessly to herself, and she 
turned panic-stricken to run into the sanctuary of her private bedroom. 
George followed her quickly into the room, his smile still bright, even 
in the dim light. He was a man sure of himself, sure in the knowledge 
that he could possess this defenseless young girl any way he wished and 
that no one, particularly she, would stop him.

Laura dropped to the edge of the bed and watched him, her eyes open 
wide and her tortured mind knowing she could retreat no further. There 
was nowhere else to go ... nowhere to escape to ...

"I didn't know you were so anxious." George teased sadistically, his 
lewd grin broadening. "I'm glad you see things my way. If we cooperate, 
our times together will be most pleasurable for both of us."

Laura sat on the bed, looking at him in total disbelief. Her gaze was 
fixed on his eyes, and she clenched her hands desperately into the 
bedspread.

"I can't do this, George! I don't care what happens, I can't let you do 
this!" But her words were quiet and unconvincing and there was no 
authority and only a minor note of conviction in them. Laura knew that 
the speech she was trying to make would do no good. Her body was warmed 
by a fire of betrayal that was building down between her shaking legs, 
a fire stoked only by the obscene picture of the naked man standing 
before her, and for some reason she knew she would not be able to 
resist if he so much as touched her.

George walked toward her, until he stood only a foot from where she 
sat, and held out his hand to touch the enticing softness of her young 
breast, teasing a dark brown nipple expertly with his fingers. His 
massive cock hung waiting like a patient cobra between his legs, soft 
and heavy.

"You've finished with your childish tantrum, I hope?" he questioned 
rhetorically, and then pulled her closer to him, holding her 
unresisting head close to his hairy stomach. She could smell the odors 
from their sexual encounter only a short hour before, and her heart 
began beating faster. "Suck it!" he commanded, pushing her head lower 
to his waiting penis. "I want it in that pretty little mouth of yours. 
Suck it!"

Laura was frightened as she felt her vagina involuntarily fill with 
more secretions as the obscene thought whirled around in her confused 
mind. She had read of fellatio, before, but had never tried it, not 
even with Bill. It was too awful, too perverse!

"I can't," she groaned pitifully. "Please, George, don't make me do it. 
I just can't!"

But the heavy hand on her head pushed her mouth closer to the soft 
smooth cock-head that hung a few tantalizing inches from her frightened 
face. Tears flowed from her eyes, across her already streaked cheeks to 
the skin of his muscular abdomen.

"You can, baby, and you will!" George hissed forcefully. "Now suck 
it!!"

Laura leaned hesitantly forward and brushed her soft lips against the 
top of his still half-limp cock, moving her unwilling mouth toward the 
swollen end. The huge bulbous head was terrifying to her, and yet, in 
spite of her fear, she knew she had to obey. There was no other way. 
She must obey George and the new, exciting craving which she began to 
feel form inexplicably deep within her traitorously acquiescing belly.

Her lipstick-covered lips opened slightly as she reached out toward her 
neighbor's massive shaft of flesh, and the soft rubbery head slipped 
easily into her saliva filled mouth. She was amazed all over again at 
how large it was, and how well it filled her mouth. She didn't notice 
it growing at first as she sucked his awakening manliness gently and 
rubbed her tongue softly at the foreskin. But then it grew more quickly 
as it filled with pulsing blood, and Laura's eyes opened wide with 
alarm as it responded excitedly to her wetly nibbling caresses. But, oh 
God, it was growing too fast, too big for her mouth! It would choke 
her!

She started to release her grip on the almost fully erected cock, but 
George pulled her head back harder against him. The jerking penis now 
seemed almost white-hot as it grew to its full size against her 
swirling tongue, hard and throbbing, and she could feel his quickened 
pulse as the huge cock-head swelled impassionedly in her mouth. Unable 
to catch her breath, she gasped, almost choking on the over-sized shaft 
of male flesh that reached far back into her ravaged throat, but George 
kept his firm grip on her head, and she found herself gradually 
beginning to adjust to the obscene intrusion. Careful not to bite him, 
lest she incur his wrath, she slowly and deliberately began to suck 
again, moving her head almost imperceptibly back and forth.

"Use your tongue more, you hot little bitch," he growled down at her, 
his eyes locked lustfully on the top of her bobbing blonde head as he 
watched the soft inner flesh of her ovalled-lips drawing back slowly 
from his swollen penis, and then sinking back around again as she slid 
them forward.

Eager to please, Laura began swirling her tongue around the now fully 
erect hugeness of his throbbing cock as best she could. Her head moved 
faster as it slid back and forth along the length of his rock-hard 
shaft, never allowing it to leave her mouth completely, but always 
keeping a tiny fraction of an inch inside the shelter of her lips. 
George had thrown his head back, no longer holding her head, and was 
still standing as she sucked him. The wetness of her clasping mouth and 
the constant sucking had put him into a euphoria, and he clenched his 
muscular buttocks in a rhythmic flexing movement, in time with her head 
as it slid along the length of his hotly aroused cock.

"Hum," he commanded. The single word was enough for Laura to begin 
making a humming sound in her throat and nasal passages. She felt 
completely debauched now. Not only must she suck this horrible man, but 
she must submit to his even more depraved demands, whatever they might 
be. Tears filled her eyes as the sound of her humming grew louder in 
her tortured ears. She wanted to scream, she wanted to stop and run out 
of her bedroom, out of the world ... but it was too late. As she sucked 
and moved her lips more and more around his blood-engorged hardness, a 
new feeling was creeping into her mind. Urged by the drug-heightened 
needs of her body, and coupled with the sound of her voice, she felt a 
passion rising in her which she could not control. She could feel every 
inch of the twitching rod of flesh in her mouth, and the hair of his 
muscular thighs brushing against her aroused breasts as she moved. 
Instead of revolting her, the obscene length of aroused male flesh 
suddenly became an object of desire. Whether from the drug, or her own 
need, she began to suck harder, wanting more and more. All thoughts of 
shame were erased as she began to lose herself in the ecstasy of the 
moment.

She could hardly keep her breath as she tried gasping for air, sucking 
all the time and trying to get more moisture into her mouth. She wanted 
it wetter and hotter! She wanted him to cum in her mouth, filling her 
with the fiery cum she could feel churning in his lust-tightened balls. 
She wanted to be debauched and used as she had never been before! Oh 
God, she wanted it! The only thing that was important now was the 
pulsating shaft of burning flesh she now held trapped between her 
eagerly sucking lips.

Above the sound of her sucking and humming she could hear George gasp. 
Her firmly rounded buttocks were bouncing up and down on the bed, her 
teeth hurting him as she sucked desperately, but she wanted him to cum, 
to cum now! Her own fires burned hotter between her trembling legs, and 
her free hand lifted itself from the bed and slid to her pleading 
vagina. Quickly she inserted her middle finger and began lewdly finger-
fucking herself to the rhythm that her mouth was beating on his 
desperately straining cock.

Suddenly, George's gasp changed. "Aarrrrgggghhh," he moaned aloud as 
the dam behind his balls broke loose. His hips jerked forward, ramming 
into her mouth ferociously as the heated fluids of his orgasm spurted 
deep into her contracting throat, spewing more and more of his thick 
white cum. She nearly choked trying to swallow the sticky warm liquid 
as it filled her mouth, bloating out her cheeks almost to the bursting 
point.

George relaxed as the moment of his orgasm passed, but let her continue 
sucking him. His deflating cock felt as if it were fine crystal being 
shattered into a thousand needles of broken glass. He looked down to 
see her hand between her open legs, desperately trying to work herself 
to a climax and he grabbed it and jerked her fingers from her vagina 
with a quick, wet sucking noise.

"That's mine. You let me take care of that. Do you want me to suck or 
fuck you?" he grinned down lasciviously, enjoying the torture he was 
putting her aroused young body through. But his friend's wife was too 
excited to do anything but keep sucking at his now deflated cock, and 
he had to pull her head away forcefully, allowing a thin trail of sperm 
to follow from her lips. But her mouth remained open. She needed his 
cock so badly, and she leaned forward to put it back between her sperm-
glistening lips. She wanted it hard, and hard now.

"Answer my question," George hissed, lifting her face so that he was 
gazing directly into her lust-glazed eyes. "Shall I eat you or fuck 
you? Make up your mind, bitch!" He knew that for the moment with his 
deflated cock he could never enter her, but he taunted her with the 
cruel words of hope.

"Lie back on the bed, if you won't answer me," he said, and watched her 
roll over flat on her back and spread her legs as wide as she could, 
her churning hips grinding hungrily down into the softness of the 
mattress, her obscenely begging vagina pointed directly at him. "Tell 
me you want it," he said. His grin widening at her helpless need.

"I want it," was all Laura could murmur in her agony of desire.

"Not that," he yelled. "Tell me the words. Say what you want, baby. 
Tell me you want to be sucked and fucked!"

"Yes, please ... Please fuck me, suck me, anything, just do it to me! 
Now, please!" she begged, her blonde hair lolling helplessly from side 
to side on the mattress, her brain and vagina on fire from the combined 
influence of her own lust and the aphrodisiac she'd had.

Laura could not believe her own words. She had never ever consciously 
said words like that before, but he was forcing her to now. Tears of 
confusion, shame and passion flowed freely from her eyes, but the fire 
licking down in her belly needed quenching. "Please," she cried 
unashamedly, "Please fuck me. Oooohhh, please!"

George was smiling again. This was exactly what he had wanted. With her 
so excited, so confused, he could do what he pleased with her helpless 
body. He picked up her right foot in one hand and kissed the bottom, 
causing a chill to run up her silken leg like a zipper, opening every 
pore on her needfully trembling thigh. No one had kissed her foot 
before. It was totally new, totally exciting. She felt as if his tongue 
had reached into the depths of her very being.

Carefully, slowly, he kissed at her foot, moving slowly to her ankles, 
then up her uncontrollably quivering leg. She knew what was coming. 
Just as she had never sucked Bill, her husband, too, had never eaten 
her. He had tried to kiss around her loins before, but she had always 
stopped him at the last minute, her puritanical upbringing triumphing 
over her desire. But all that seemed to be forgotten now in the depths 
of her obscene debasement. Now she reached down to grab George's hair 
and pull him faster to the dilated pink lips of her throbbing cunt, but 
he slapped her hands and proceeded at his own speed until, a seeming 
eternity later, she could feel the beat of his hot breath tickling the 
soft inner flesh of her spasming thighs.

"Are you ready for this?" he grinned up from between her legs, 
delighting in teasing her and knowing she was near the breaking point. 
Any more delay and she would turn into a raving maniac.

"Yes, yes," she gasped, looking down between her heaving breasts at his 
leering face. "Please, now suck it, suck it good!"

Satisfied that she could take no more teasing for the moment, George 
spread the soft hair-lined cuntal lips of his neighbor's wife with his 
fingers, and flicked out his practiced tongue at the swollen bud of her 
already erect clitoris.

"Oooooohhh," she moaned, closing her eyes tight and spread her 
quivering legs wider.

Nothing was ever like this, she thought as he flicked with his hardened 
tongue again, this time letting it rest a little longer on the 
throbbing center of her pleasure. Her head thrashed back and forth on 
the bed, and she breathed in heaving gasps. He slid his tongue down the 
moist hair-lined furrow from her pulsating clitoris to the opening of 
her wetly dilated cunt, and thrust it into the warm wet channel as far 
as he could.

"Oh, oh, ooohhh," she cried. "Harder, harder."

He continued licking her, pushing his tongue in along the slippery 
smooth walls as far as it could go. His hands clenched at the cheeks of 
her snow white ass and a single finger slid its way across the milky 
flesh to the rubbery ring of her exposed anus. He probed at the opening 
softly and she writhed her hips at the unexpected touch. She hadn't 
anticipated what was about to come.

"Don't stop," she begged as he lifted his head from between her legs. 
But her excitement had seemed to arouse George quicker than he had 
thought, and now his quiveringly erect cock demanded yet more 
satisfaction.

"Turn over," he commanded harshly.

No, she thought, as she struggled to roll her body over as he had 
commanded. He can't be, he isn't! Knowing that George would go to any 
length to humiliate her further, she was afraid of what might happen. 
She and her husband had always had sex in the regular position with no 
variation. Now what was to happen? Her mind, fogged by the drug and the 
lusting minuets that his tongue had played in her fiery vagina, could 
do nothing to control her body. She did as he said.

"Spread your legs," he commanded again as he massaged the softly 
yielding flesh of her perspiring buttocks. Then his thumbs spread the 
ivory-white cheeks apart, exposing the tiny elastic ring of her 
puckered nether opening, and he bent and kissed one cheek and slithered 
his tongue to her virgin anus, licking at it gingerly for a moment.

"Please, no," Laura whimpered down into the bedspread. "Not that." But 
her lust-filled neighbor pushed against her defenseless thighs as she 
tried to close them. The bed and her twitching legs were wet with her 
own excited fluids, and George smiled as he noticed the liquid remnants 
of the extreme pleasure that he had given her before. Now, now he would 
do something that no man had ever done to this young wife, not even her 
husband. He slipped one insinuating finger along the soft crevice 
between her fearfully tensed buttocks until it reached her unused anal 
opening. He probed it with no success. She was fighting him with all of 
her might, clenching her small buttocks as tight as she could.

"Please, no," she cried again. "It's wrong, It's wrong ... arrggghhh," 
she moaned as he pushed his middle finger into the tiny rubbery opening 
up to the first knuckle. How tight, how sweet it is, he thought, as he 
watched his hand and her squirming bottom as he pushed his finger 
farther and farther up into the vainly resisting channel. Then, with a 
final thrust, he embedded his finger all the way to the hilt, his palm 
pressing flat into the soft flaccid cheeks of her violated buttocks.

"Ooowwwwweeeee," she moaned. "It hurts. Stop, please stop!!"

"Quiet, sweetheart," George whispered. "You ain't seen nothing yet."

There was a cruelly unyielding relish in his voice as he began to 
rotate his probing middle finger around deep inside her to loosen the 
tightly flexed passage. He could feel the buttery smoothness in her 
virgin rectum as he skewered her like an animal, and his grin widened 
more at the lewd thought of taking her anally. But to Laura, writhing 
beneath his hand, it felt as though her whole rectum were pierced with 
pain, as though he were going to tear her open. A moment later, in her 
confusion, she thought his finger had grown larger, but with a piteous 
moan realized that he had slipped a second finger into her back 
passage.

Laura was sobbing openly now, crying wetly like a child. The pain tore 
at her insides like a hotly probing poker, and her frustration at being 
able to do nothing to stop this awful rape built a rage in her, a rage 
that would know no normal release. But there was nothing she could do 
to stop her cruelly sadistic neighbor ... she was completely at his 
mercy.

Satisfied that Laura's anal opening was primed for him, George removed 
his fingers, and repositioned his anxious body. His weight shift on the 
bed wasn't noticed by the young wife, and Laura had no idea what he was 
going to do until, suddenly, she felt his huge overheated cock sliding 
up the crevice of her untouched buttocks toward her unsuspecting anus.

"You're going to like this," George crooned evilly. "It'll only hurt 
for a minute."

Laura's eyes opened wide in terror as she heard his words and felt his 
great massive cock probing the tightly puckered opening of her virginal 
rectum. This was the ultimate submission, the ultimate disgrace. She 
had been used by this man in the worst ways she could have imagined, 
and now he would do this to her, push his obscene cock deep into her, 
where not even her husband had done it to her before!

George nudged his fleshy weapon forward slightly, and Laura tried to 
clench her rectal muscles tighter - but his warming up exercise had 
left the muscles tired and useless.

"Aaaarrrggggghhhhhhh, it hurts," she screamed as the rubbery red crown 
of his rock-hard cock wormed its way into her forbidden passage. "No, 
no, no!" she sobbed, begging him to stop. But it was no use and she 
knew it. The fiery dagger forced its way farther and farther into her 
and there was no respite. The pain raked her insides and she felt as 
though she might pass out, but a last ounce of courage kept her 
conscious. But, oh God, she thought, her brain screaming inside her 
head, it hurts, it hurts so ...

Laura wasn't aware of when the change came, when the borderline between 
pain and pleasure was crossed. The change came without warning. The 
shock, the newness, turned to a sudden and almost masochistic pleasure, 
and the pain of his forced entry disappeared completely. The red hot 
crown of her neighbor's bludgeoning cock rubbed against her tender 
insides, caressing the hitherto untouched rectal flesh with undreamed 
of sensations. She felt herself rocketed on a sea of passion, rolling 
with each wave as he pushed at her. She also felt herself respond, 
lifting her abused buttocks higher, and then pushing backward to slap 
them hard against his pistoning pelvis as he rammed mercilessly into 
her.

"Ooooh, ooh, oooh," she grunted, streams of perspiration pouring 
heavily from her forehead. Their bodies dripped with sweat as they 
worked harder into a frenzied fury, racing to the climax, each wanting 
to get to the finish first. Her final subjection to her neighbor's 
depraved desires had become the fiercest and most erotic moment of her 
life. She was being used as she had never thought possible, and she 
liked it! She liked it! He forced her to do as he wished and she wanted 
it no other way. There was no thought of her husband Bill or anything 
else that had been so important to her only a few minutes ago. The 
intensity of the moment had overtaken her. Bodily pleasure was all she 
craved and she was getting all that and more too. She was getting it 
all!

George could hold back no longer. The rubbing of his lust-engorged cock 
along the sides of her overheated rectum was taking its toll. He had 
nearly split her open. But his concern was no longer for forcing her to 
do what he wanted, for he was rapidly approaching the end of his 
control. He was at the very threshold of his climax, the pressure deep 
in his sperm-bloated balls forcing him steadily over. The first spasm 
of his orgasm unleashed itself deep in his loins as the white hot sperm 
swarmed up through his desperately contracting penis.

"Now," he said to the ceiling. "Now, I'm cumming, I'm 
cuummmmmiiinnnnngggg!!"

The stabbing jets of his cum shot from his erupting cock like a 
blasting rocket, the fiery hot liquid spewing into Laura's lasciviously 
rotating rectum in streaming wet torrents. She felt as if her belly 
were being filled with the thick hot cum, the same cum that she had 
swallowed only a few short minutes before. With each slowing thrust of 
his wildly slamming cock, he forced his burning semen deeper and deeper 
up inside her and pushed her closer to the edge of her own cataclysmic 
orgasm.

"Aarrrrgggghhhhh," she groaned, as she pushed hard back into him again. 
It felt like a thousand hornets were stinging at her as the muscles of 
her nakedly writhing belly contracted like a huge serpent, then rose up 
and struck at its unseen victim. "I'm cumming, too!" she howled. "I'm 
cummmmiinnnnggg, tooooo!" Like an animal freed from its darkened cage 
and finally able to see the light of day, she was stunned and blinded 
by the awesome power of her ravaging climax. It seemed to go on and on 
forever until, with one final scream of pleasure, Laura fell forward on 
the bed exhausted. Never before had she experienced such a total 
involvement in an orgasm. But also, the end of the climax brought the 
end of her desire. The love potion she'd unwittingly drunk had been no 
stronger than to last until she had cum one time, and now it was 
drained from her ravaged body like everything else.

The pain returned to her anus where George's cock, still half-hard, 
rested. His reddened penis was sore from the lewd fucking he had just 
given her tight rear passage, and gently he tried to pull his deflating 
hardness from her. But even though her nether passage was wet with his 
sperm, the pain remained and he realized he would have to pull himself 
out quickly, like removing a splinter. The faster he pulled, the faster 
the pain would cease.

With one mighty jerk he yanked his huge member from her backside with a 
sudden wet, sucking noise. "Oooooh!" she groaned half consciously, 
tears flooding from her eyes. The final indignity, she thought hazily. 
She suffered with silent sobs as George rose from the bed and started 
to leave the room. He would have to dress downstairs in front of the 
fireplace.

"You loved it, didn't you?" George whispered, "and you'll want it some 
more, won't you? Anyway, I want to give it to you."

"Yes," she said limply, "I liked it, I loved it." She was astounded by 
her words. In the span of a few short hours, she was becoming a slave 
to this man who now seemed to own not only her body, but was bidding 
for her soul. She seemed to have no control to resist him, and she knew 
that she would do anything he asked. She had no choice - it meant 
protecting Bill, it meant protecting her sanity - there was no other 
way.

Laura fell quickly into an exhausted sleep as George left the room to 
dress, and to take another swallow from the small, leather covered 
flask as well. He would need some more of the potion, he thought with 
amusement.

His wife Abby was expecting him at home.



Chapter 4


"It's quarter to three. My husband will be home in less than ten 
minutes," the naked woman on the bed said lazily.

Abby Farrington's new lover jumped quickly from the bed and began to 
dress in the dark with the hurried precision of a man who has known 
many close calls with faceless husbands.

"Why did you tell me you were divorced?" the young man asked hurriedly.

"Never trust a woman," Abby laughed and turned her sensuous back to him 
as he quickly left the room, checking all his belongings as he ran down 
the stairs to his parked car in the driveway. Abby didn't know his 
name. She hadn't even bothered to ask. Four hours ago she had been 
enjoying a party in Peter Lessing's elegant home and the young man had 
sat beside her and showed a definite interest. Abby had given him some 
small talk and a wild hour in her bed, but she was still excited and 
not completely satisfied. No matter how hard she tried with so many 
other men, only her husband, George, satisfied her the way she wanted. 
The adulterous act of sleeping with men other than her own husband 
usually only increased the excitement of making love with him, and she 
used her other lovers only as preparation for each night's orgiastic 
romp with George.

"That was a pretty wild getaway that guy made. He nearly knocked over 
the garbage cans!" George laughed as he came into the bedroom.

"He decided rather hurriedly to leave," Abby said, smiling. "How did it 
go with you?"

George crossed the room like a man who had just won an election, and 
the sureness of his step showed Abby that she need not have asked. He 
slid open the closet and began undressing.

"It was easier than I thought," he said carelessly. "She was hornier 
than I expected. We only spent an hour at the club, and by the time the 
dancers had finished, she was ready to go right then and there.

"Well, don't be so damn smug," Abby laughed, sliding over on the bed to 
make room for him. "And come and tell Mama how you did it."

George related the evening's events to his wife, exaggerating a little. 
Abby was only slightly jealous, as she always was when he told her of 
his affairs, but she was also excited by his story and imagined herself 
writhing in the front seat of their car under her husband's familiarly 
powerful thrusts.

"And what happened afterward?" she asked when he'd finished. "Is she 
going to tell Bill? Did you use the embezzlement?"

"Don't worry about a thing, sweetheart," George reassured her. "I've 
done this so many times to so many sniveling little wives that it's a 
repeat performance. We'll have no trouble from her and soon you'll be 
able to try Bill Wilson on for size. You'll like that, won't you?"

Abby turned her head into the pillow with mock embarrassment, not 
looking at her husband as he sat on the bed beside her.

"George, please," she pleaded almost theatrically, "You always make it 
sound so dirty. Why is it that I'm always at fault when I'm with 
another man and you ... you're such a saint. There's never anything 
wrong with your activities. Why am I always nothing but a whore?"

She faked a heart-rending sob, but no tears came to her eyes. Whenever 
the two of them had found other lovers for the night, they always 
repeated the same scene afterward. Neither was ever serious, but George 
enjoyed tormenting her and calling her names as much as she enjoyed the 
suffering at his hands. He played the roll of injured husband and she 
the role of the unfaithful wife: he would shout at her, call her names 
and she would respond to the whip of his tongue, each painful word a 
delightful slap at her buttocks. Even now, she could feel herself 
beginning to moisten between her nakedly splayed legs in obscene 
anticipation. Her golden brown nipples were already tautly erect, 
awaiting his touch and the kiss that she knew would come soon.

They had been married fifteen years and for nine of those years they 
had been taking other lovers and swapping partners with couples they 
met. Most of the couples would soon fall out of the arrangement and 
more than a few couples had ruined their married lives by contact with 
the Farringtons, but other people's fate was not their concern. George 
and she were holding their own, Abby thought, and her body shifted on 
the bed as he changed positions.

"Whore," he said quietly. "You're just a whore with a gold band on your 
finger. You'll never be anything but a whore. You've always been one 
and nothing you can do will change that."

Abby loved the words. She had had many lovers before George, and scores 
since they had been married. But one thing kept them together: no man 
could please her as he did. No man was cruel enough, hard enough or 
could give her enough of what she needed.

Most of her one-shot lovers were only preludes to what George offered 
her. They were only tools to excite and stimulate her before she knew 
she would be taken by her husband when they finally got together. He 
would torment her and curse her, and when he finished with the insults, 
he would take her and give her what no other man could.

"Whore," George said again, a lewd expression of mock anger and real 
humor on his face. "You'd take any man, any time, anywhere! How can you 
live with yourself!" His voice was stern, but Abby could detect the 
note of falseness in it. They were both good actors in this scene that 
took place at least three times a week, but never good enough to fool 
the other completely.

She braced herself for what she knew would come next. His slap was 
hard. A red mark rose on her buttocks where he hit her, and her whole 
bottom tingled from the sting.

"Oh, don't," she cried, knowing that he would do it again and excite 
her even further. The soft flesh of her silky smooth buttocks quivered 
like flaccid jello as he struck her again.

"You'd even go to bed with that brute, Jackson, if he came at you," 
George said, his voice feigning a threat. Jackson was the personal 
valet of Peter Lessing, the man at whose house Abby had been earlier in 
the evening. Lessing was the most active member of Oak Park's social 
register, and maintained around him some of the more obvious trappings 
of gentility: trappings which he felt were necessary to his social 
status. Jackson, his valet, had a hulking six-foot five inch frame that 
held two hundred sixty pounds of solid muscle, and very little brains. 
He was, the Farringtons had long ago concluded, nothing more than an 
animal.

"No, George, never him," Abby squealed with pleasure. "He's too big, 
he'd kill me!"

"Do you mean to say I'm not as big as he is? Haven't I ever split you? 
Haven't I hurt you like you think he would?"

"Oh, yes, my darling. But him, he's a monster. I couldn't take his 
hairy body on me."

"What about Laura Wilson? Do you think she could take him?" George 
asked his wife, increasing her torment as he slapped her bottom again.

"Yes, yes, Laura. He could take Laura and we could watch. Oh, George, 
I'd like to watch that brute screw her until she screamed for mercy."

"You would like to see her hurt, wouldn't you?" Abby's husband said 
quietly. "You would like her to beg him for mercy, just like you beg me 
- right?"

"Yes, please, oh, yes," Abby cried as he slapped her reddened buttocks 
again.

"Then we will, you wait and see," he said, and pulled at her body, 
turning her roughly on her back.

They stared at each other for a moment, Abby's tear-filled eyes not 
once leaving her husband's sadistic smile. They both would enjoy seeing 
the innocent Laura Wilson taken by that brute, Jackson, and Abby would 
get her revenge against this young girl, the kind of girl she had 
always had the fear might possibly take her husband away from her.

Abby had always feared that one of George's partners might take him 
away from her, for she knew that if George ever found a woman that 
could please him more than she could, then their life together would be 
over. There was no hope that she herself could ever find a man who 
could do for her what he did. It was always the other girl's fault, 
never George's. His weakness was beautiful women, and Laura Wilson 
qualified as a temptress by being born beautiful. But she would pay and 
pay dearly, Abby thought with relish. She was sure Peter Lessing 
wouldn't mind lending her the services of his huge, dim-witted valet.

George looked down at his naked wife, knowing without a doubt what she 
was thinking. He knew what he could conjure up in her jealous mind by 
mentioning the women that he had just finished with, and he knew as 
well that Abby always seemed to need revenge to reassure her position. 
As George gazed down into his wife's eyes, she suddenly focused on him 
and realized that he knew what she was thinking. She laughed with some 
embarrassment.

"You're looking at me very knowingly, darling," she said.

"I was just wondering what evil schemes you have all cooked up for poor 
Laura Wilson, my little angel. She isn't really a witch, you know. In 
fact, I think you might even like her."

"I doubt it," Abby said flatly.

"Hmm. Nobody who lays your husband escapes alive, is that it?" George 
laughed.

Abby lowered her eyes momentarily, trying to conceal her thoughts, and 
then realized it was useless. She and her husband knew each other, 
after their fifteen years of marriage, with almost frightening 
intimacy.

"Do you think we can get Peter ... to let us use Jackson?" she said 
coyly.

"Well, I don't know why not," her husband answered her. "But I don't 
know if that would be a very good idea. I mean, that Jackson really is 
a monster, you know. He could hurt her."

"No, I don't think anything like that could ever happen. Besides, I've 
never seen Jackson in action, have you?"

"No," her husband said, "Peter always keeps him pretty well under 
wraps, so to speak."

"Then let's do it!" Abby said excitedly.

George looked at the almost childishly enthusiastic face of his wife, 
and laughed out loud. What the hell, if she wanted it. He certainly 
didn't have any loyalties to Laura Wilson.

"All right, you can ask Peter about it. But don't you think we ought to 
break the Wilsons in? I mean, you don't take somebody to a party at the 
Lessings unless ... you know."

"Well, we already know Laura can be persuaded," Abby said, "all we've 
got to do is make sure about Bill, and I can do that."

"How?"

"Why don't we invite the Wilsons up to the cottage this weekend. Bill 
will be back, and you can certainly force Laura to go along with it, 
with what you know. Then leave it to me. I'll have Bill Wilson eating 
out of my hand in no time."

"If I know you," George said with a deadpan face, "it won't be your 
hand he'll be eating out of."

They both laughed and George fell on top of her, nearly crushing her 
into the bed with his weight as he sought her mouth and covered it with 
his lips, kissing hard, sucking at her tongue which she'd plunged wetly 
between his teeth. Abby sucked hungrily at her husband's lower lips, 
tracing the hard tip of her tongue against the insides of his mouth. 
Their love-making was ritual, but never boring, and it always seemed 
like the first time for her. The excitement of seeing him naked and 
aroused was almost enough to bring her to a climax in itself, and she 
always had to hold back for this man, bathing in the pleasure he gave 
her.

George's hands caressed his aroused wife's sides as he lifted himself 
and rearranged them on the bed, placing her head on the pillow. She 
felt him kissing her ear, nibbling softly at the tender lobe, then 
running his snaking tongue lightly down her alabaster neck, across her 
shoulders to the roundness of her hugely formed breasts. He toyed 
momentarily with her taut nipples, and she moaned and quivered beneath 
him as she felt his moist lips nip at the sensitively quivering buds. 
He had brought her to climax before just by sucking at her nipples, but 
she knew that he wanted more this time. She knew that his evening's 
activities with Bill Wilson's wife had only made him want her more.

She moaned as he kissed her smooth flat belly, her anticipation only 
heightening her already unbearable excitement. She knew that his lips 
were working their way down lower, and soon would be kissing the soft 
velvety fleece that curled around the waiting mouth of her hungrily 
yearning vagina.

As he caressed her with his lips, George slowly turned his body around 
so that his massively erect penis neared her head. He ran his exploring 
tongue to the top of her enticing vaginal slit, and parted the moist 
pink lips with his tongue, at the same time lifting one of his legs 
over her head and placing it on her other side. His huge cock and 
leaden testicles hung directly above her face, and she grasped his 
heavy male flesh with one hand and began to stroke it. The sensations 
that rose from between her shivering legs as he sucked her, shot all 
the way to her brain, and the softly moist sweetness of her aroused 
cunt was on fire. Each touch of his caressing tongue was like dry ice, 
its heat was so intense.

Abby moaned softly and brought her husband's hardened cock closer to 
her lips, studying it carefully with her eyes. A small drop of clear 
liquid poised at the tiny slit-like opening under the bulbous blood-
filled head, and she leaned forward and kissed the tip, brushing away 
the small drop of pre-cum as she did. Then she parted her fleshy lips 
farther, placing a small fraction of the large coronal rim of his 
throbbing cock against them, and gently teased her tongue into the tiny 
opening of his sensitive glans. Then she slid the whole head of his 
distended shaft of flesh into her soft warm mouth, and pulled the 
tender foreskin back tight again, teasing the exposed glans with the 
wetness of her lips. He moaned aloud, and Abby knew that she was 
pleasing him. Again she rocked her head slightly, stroking only his 
firm cock-head with her mouth, at the same time spreading her own legs 
farther apart to give him greater access to the warm moist cavern 
between her ivory-white thighs.

She could feel his tongue snaking hungrily up into her cuntal 
passageway, hard and searching, the tip playing with the erectly 
pulsating flesh at the entrance and rolling in small circles into the 
tiny hair-lined mouth. She, in turn, began to suck more of his rubbery 
blood-filled cock up into her mouth, sure to moisten the throbbing 
flesh with her saliva as she did. She could feel the huge veins 
throbbing with every beat of his lust-aroused pulse, and she sucked 
harder until half of his massive cock was thrust into her desperately 
sucking throat. No man could have more cock than her husband, she 
thought. In all her experience, she had never seen anyone as big. She 
held back her choking, and proceeded farther, more slowly, to get as 
much of his rock-hard male flesh into her hungry mouth as she possibly 
could.

She flexed the muscles in her tensing thighs, her attention to the 
pleasure of her burning body complete and unhindered. Every touch, 
every breath was a new sensation, and she needed no instruction to open 
her lips wider and firmly re-grasp the pulsing cock in her warm buttery 
mouth. She began to hum with the twitching shaft still sunk deep 
between her sucking checks.

George had expected the humming. He didn't have to tell her what 
pleased him, as he had had to do with Laura earlier that night. Abby 
started humming up and down a scale of deep-throated notes, vibrating 
the muscles of her throat against the aching head of his throbbing 
cock. He ate her voraciously, the sweet smell and taste of her 
generously flowing excitement only making him want more of the 
delicious nectar. She writhed her undulating hips upward, trying to 
enclose him completely with the pink lips of her achingly wanton cunt.

"Please, George," she begged. "Please, now."

Her husband responded slowly at first, regretful to take his lips from 
the fiery meal he was enjoying between her widespread legs. But she 
released his burning cock from the moist warmth of her mouth, and with 
a growl, he suddenly turned around, held himself above her for a 
moment, and then, with the huge head of his massive cock already in 
position, slid himself along the short length between her aroused 
clitoris to the lewdly open target of her waiting cunt, where he 
slipped in, unheeded by any obstacle.

They fit each other perfectly. George's desperately straining cock, 
already almost at the breaking point, found its place as if it were a 
hand slipping into a tailored glove. There was no room for error. Their 
bodies had been molded to perfection after years of making love to each 
other, and they began to move together in perfect unison. The ecstasy 
of the moment rose within Abby as her lewdly aroused husband stroked 
into her, his pleasure-giving cock caressing the smooth inner walls of 
her moistly lubricated vagina, the rubbery head finding its mark at her 
cervix and pummeling against it as he thrust deeper and deeper into 
her. The half dark room seemed to light up in strange colors to her, 
blinding, flashing, mingled with the electrifying shocks that shot 
through her madly spasming body to the seeming depths of her very 
loins. They were both ready, both already driven to the point of orgasm 
by their impassioned licking and sucking of each other. Abby could feel 
the rhythmic muscles of her abdomen begin to contract spasmodically.

"Oh, oh, ohhhhhh!" she panted, knowing she would be the first to cum. 
But she was wrong.

As if he had been struck by lightning, George jerked suddenly forward. 
Abby could feel his swollen balls burst with the fiery liquid that had 
been held back for this cataclysmic moment, and she screamed aloud as 
she felt his blazing sperm shoot deep into the hidden darkness of her 
dilated cunt, filling her with the warmth of desire that would 
culminate for her in a few distant seconds.

"I'm cumming," she heard her husband gasp at her between breaths. "I'm 
cummmmmiiiinnnnggggg!" as the smooth jets of boiling sperm shot far up 
into her churning cuntal depths.

Abby arched her back, every muscle in her voluptuous body contracting 
as she rose up and fell to the side in an almost violent attack of 
contraction. Her sphincter began to clench and open like an angry fist, 
and her straining buttocks flexed to rock hardness as her orgasm hit.

"I - I, me too, my darling, I'm cummmmiiinnnggggggg, nowwwwwwww!" she 
screamed as the power of her body unleashed at the moment she had been 
waiting for all night. There was no time, no space, no motion in the 
world, only the unbelievable experience of her climax as she was hit 
again and again by the spasmodic twitching of every muscle in her body. 
Every fiber of her being seemed wrenched apart by the tremendous force 
of her exertion, destroyed and then remolded to the shape of this 
latest climactic passion. Slowly, ever so slowly, the sweat-soaked body 
of the completely exhausted woman ceased its reflexive spasming, 
gradually giving up the tension of her orgasm to the incredibly 
euphoric calmness of sexual satiation. She felt George pull his already 
deflated cock from the warmth of her sperm-filled vagina, and fall 
wearily on the bed beside her, sighing out his own satisfaction to the 
sudden stillness of their bedroom.

No one could ever approach him, Abby thought to herself. No one could 
ever even come close to satisfying her the way her husband could, and 
she knew it. If she should ever lose him ..

With a slow about-face, her thoughts came to rest on Laura Wilson: 
young, beautiful, provocative Laura Wilson. She raised herself slightly 
on her elbow, and gazed into the closed eyes of her husband, as he 
began to fall to sleep. Could Laura Wilson be the one, she thought? 
Could this young girl finally be the one to tempt her husband away from 
her, to tempt him away with the pleasures of youth and innocence which, 
she knew, she herself had long ago surrendered? Gazing at George's 
ruggedly handsome face, Abby wondered.

Not without a fight, she concluded with a determined smile. Not without 
one hell of a fight. And the first round of that fight she decided, 
might very well be the last round. It certainly would be if Peter 
Lessing's valet, Jackson, lived up to his reputation. And even before 
she let Jackson loose on Laura, Abby knew that she would have a whole 
weekend to undermine Laura's marriage at the vacation house. It 
certainly shouldn't be too difficult to persuade Bill Wilson to join in 
a little extra-marital socializing.

Abby lay back down on the bed, her eyes closing over visions of what 
was in store for her potential rival. It was too good, she thought 
sleepily ... Too sweet ... First take the girl's husband ... Jackson 
take the girl ... She didn't have a chance ... No chance at all ...



Chapter 5


Laura Wilson sat dumbly at the table in her immaculate kitchen, staring 
stupidly at the broken pieces of china that covered the freshly waxed 
floor. That was the third plate she'd broken that afternoon, and the 
crash had made her tense nerves even tighter, and more strained.

As she bent to the floor to pick up the pieces, Laura looked up at the 
kitchen clock, and then sighed to herself with resignation. Bill would 
be home any moment now - he'd just called from the airport that he was 
taking a taxi home - and she wondered if she could face him. She gazed 
around the freshly scrubbed kitchen, and realized that all the house 
cleaning in the world would never make her feel any more guiltless when 
she greeted her husband.

The few days since her experience with her neighbor, George Farrington, 
had been spent indoors: watching television, sleeping fitfully, or 
simply sitting for hours on end, staring straight ahead, thinking of 
absolutely nothing. She didn't really trust herself to go outdoors. She 
didn't want to see or talk to anyone, especially her next door 
neighbors, and she was terrified that George might try to call her or 
see her. At least that hadn't happened ... one small bit of light in an 
otherwise somber few days.

Laura finished picking up the scattered pieces of broken plate almost 
mechanically, throwing them into the garbage can with the remains of 
the earlier ones she'd broken, and sat down again at the kitchen table, 
smoothing her freshly ironed skirt out across her lap with unconscious 
precision. As she sat, from all outward appearances perfectly composed 
and calm, her mind raced through a maze of conflicting emotions, 
bounced off the contradictory explanations of what had happened to her 
the last few days, and finally came to rest on the motives for her 
actions: motives which, for her, were still painfully unclear. Why had 
she done it? What was she going to tell Bill, for he would surely find 
out by himself in due time: George Farrington would see to that. And 
worst of all, how was she going to rid herself of the awful hold her 
lascivious neighbor had over her, his chance knowledge of her husband's 
run-in with the law in San Francisco?

All these questions tangled themselves together in maddening and 
conflicting patterns, filling Laura's mind and heart with an almost 
tangible pain, a tightness that threatened suddenly to choke her. And 
then, as spontaneously as they had come, those patterns were vaporized 
by the sound of a loud greeting from the living room, and the slamming 
of the heavy front door.

"Hello? Laura? I'm home, honey!!!!"

Laura felt her body freeze, then thaw, then turn reluctantly toward the 
kitchen door and her husband's voice. Well, she thought to herself 
wryly, it won't be long now.

"Laura?" Bill called out again. "Are you home?"

"Yes, darling," Laura felt the pressure against her vocal cords, heard 
the sound of her words, but didn't really feel as though she were 
speaking. "I'm out in the kitchen."

The kitchen door swung open with a crash, and Laura's husband strode 
into the room, his face illuminated by a huge, happy grin.

"Hey, no flowers for the returning hero? No kisses?"

Laura suddenly rushed forward and threw herself into her husband's 
arms, pressing her lips against his as though it might blot out all the 
anguish she'd been living the past few days; as though she could lose 
herself in him, and thereby escape herself.

"All right!" Bill exclaimed, "that's more like it! How's my little 
angel been?"

Laura didn't answer at first, his question again raising the awful 
spectre of her guilt before her.

"Fine," she finally managed. "And how were things in Dallas?"

Bill smiled broadly, and led his wife to a kitchen chair, where he sat 
down and pulled her onto his lap. One arm snaked around her slender 
waist, the other rubbed soothingly against the smooth material covering 
her soft, ivory thigh.

"It went well, honey. It really did. I learned a lot these past few 
days ... about a lot of things. I can't tell you really what I learned, 
because I don't really know myself. All I know is, I saw men older then 
myself, men who'd been working their hearts out for ten, twenty, even 
thirty years - and all they had to show for it were ulcers, insomnia, 
and an expensive capacity for hard liquor. It was an eye-opener, Laura, 
it really was."

"But what about the other thing," Laura asked breathlessly. "Did 
anybody recognize you, or say anything, or ..."

"No, not a soul!" Bill laughed out loud. "You know, by the time I got 
off the plane in Dallas, I'd already worked up my resignation speech 
for my boss, saying how awful it was that a guy could never get a 
second break in this world; I was convinced someone would be there who 
recognized me, and I went to the first meeting just wondering who it 
would be - trying to guess which of those guys would be the one to 
wreck my life this time. And nothing happened, honey! Nobody said a 
thing!"

"Oh, Bill!"

"Do you realize what that means, sweetheart? We don't have to be afraid 
anymore! We can go on just like nothing had ever happened. Oh, I swear 
to you, Laura, I'm the happiest man in the world at this moment!"

Laura responded to her husband's enthusiastic embrace, and yet her 
heart was splitting inside her. Oh Bill, she was crying through her 
closed eyes to him, we're not safe! We do have to be afraid! We aren't 
free at all! George Farrington knows, Bill - he knows! The pretty young 
wife's mind was tortured by the realization that their neighbor was far 
more serious and dangerous an adversary than some faceless man at a 
business convention could ever be: because he was sadistically out to 
control their present as well as their future.

"What's the matter, honey? You're not saying very much."

"Nothing at all," Laura lied, snapping to attention. "I was just 
listening to you. I haven't had a chance to say anything."

"So I talk too much," Bill kidded. "Well, enough of this talking. Let's 
get down to some serious business." He pulled her close to him and 
kissed her hard on the mouth, completely surprising her. Laura let him 
continue, but didn't return the kiss. Besides the fact that her mind 
was tormented by thoughts of their neighbor George Farrington, she 
wasn't going to let her husband get off the hook so easily for not 
making love to her for so long.

"It's been awhile," Bill whispered. "It's been an awful long while, and 
I know that's my fault. I have been so tired trying to work sixteen 
hours a day. But from now on, honey, you are going to see a big 
difference in me, I swear it. That's one of the things I learned in 
Dallas, Laura. If you give everything to your business, it leaves you 
empty and only half-alive. And that's not going to happen around here 
anymore, believe me."

Bill's apology surprised his wife, and she wanted desperately to 
believe him. But she wanted something more to do with it, too. After 
all, she had put up with his neglect for a long time, and she should 
have something to say about it. But she didn't resist as, wordlessly, 
he took her hand and led her toward the stairs. Her tormented mind did 
not want to make love, but her lonely body needed him desperately. She 
held back as he started to climb the stairs to their bedroom.

"What's wrong, Laura?" Bill asked, turning to her.

"Nothing ... I ... there's just so much I have to talk to you about 
..."

"Can't it wait?" Bill smiled suggestively.

Laura paused, gazing up into her husband's eyes. "I love you, darling," 
she finally said.

"And, I love you and that's all that matters," Bill replied.

Laura responded dutifully as he kissed her gently on the lips. She 
wanted him so badly, but her conscience still fought her desire, her 
thoughts turning to George Farrington again, and what had happened only 
a few nights ago in the back seat of his sleek convertible. She still 
remembered the erotic pleasure of his expert kisses, the unbelievable 
excitement of his huge cock as it had slipped inside her, hurting her 
and yet bringing pleasure at the same time. She could not forget the 
degradation he had submitted her to, but somehow the thought still 
managed to excite her. And even now, with her eyes closed, she could 
imagine the man who was holding her was her neighbor, not her husband.

"Let's go to bed," Bill said, waking her from her illicit dream. The 
pressure of his husky voice on her ear awakened the only barely 
suppressed desires within her, and she could feel her honey-brown 
nipples tighten beneath her lightweight housedress. He held her tightly 
to his side and their legs rubbed sensuously together, exciting her 
even more as they walked up the steps to their darkened bedroom.

Laura felt her husband's large hand cup her smooth breasts, covered 
only by the thin material of her dress, as he stepped slightly to the 
side and let her go through the door before him. This was the room in 
which George Farrington had defiled her marital bed, was the first 
thought that came to Laura's mind. This was the room where she had 
become nothing more then a lusting animal and sucked at his steel-hard 
cock almost greedily. And now she felt her mouth again begin to 
involuntarily salivate and she knew she wanted to suck Bill now, suck 
him even as she had her sadistic neighbor: but she knew that she could 
not, not unless he tried something first. She dared not to do anything 
that would reveal to her husband that she had been unfaithful. She knew 
she never could let him know about George and the threat he posed to 
their lives. What was she going to do?

"You'll never need a brassiere," Bill said to her in the darkness. 
"You're perfect."

His hand at her firm breasts kneaded the softly pliant flesh, reminding 
her that her desire still lived within her. Perfect? she thought 
bitterly, and smiled at him in the afternoon light that filtered 
through the closed drapes. If you only knew what an animal I've become. 
And there's nothing I can do about it. Oh, Bill, what have I done to 
you? What have I done to both of us?

The trembling young wife put her arm around her husband's powerful 
waist as they walked toward the bed, her other hand rubbing across the 
growing bulge in his trousers as she reached to unfasten his belt. She 
must try to make him happy; she must try to be a good lover for him, 
and then somehow, some way, they would make out all right.

The young couple stood facing each other as they worked at each other's 
clothing. Hurriedly, Bill unfastened her dress and let it fall to the 
floor, at the same time kicking off his pants, which she'd unsnapped 
and unzipped. His shirt came off quickly and he kneeled to slide her 
silk panties from the soft swell of her ivory hips. The sweet scent of 
the dampness that was flooding her desperately yearning vagina entered 
his dilated nostrils as he pulled the panties downward and kissed her 
belly, nibbling at the golden skin above the silky pubic hairs that 
glistened in their clean blondeness.

Kiss me lower, darling, Laura prayed silently to herself. Do what 
George did, please! Make me want you more than I wanted him!

The long time without sex had caught up with Bill. The more than a 
month away from her had left him filled with desire, his throbbingly 
erect penis felt now as if it were going to burst ... and she had not 
even touched it yet in its fully naked state. He could sense himself 
being filled with a rising torrent of passion that he could not hold 
back, and there was no method, no plan to his love-making. He was 
guided only by what was closest, and at that moment the softly wet lips 
of her moistly flowing vagina were nearer to him than anything. Not 
thinking that his wife might reject him, he lowered his head a few 
inches and started to nuzzle his nose between her legs into the silky 
resilient hair that covered the enticingly raised mound of her 
womanhood.

Instead of being revolted as she had always been, Laura found herself 
further excited by the fact that her husband was venturing into 
hitherto forbidden territory, that he was going to do it to her just 
like George had! Her straining heart pounded at a furious rate as she 
felt his nose slide through the dew-dropped pubic hair between her 
trembling legs, and part it gently for an infinitesimal moment. But 
then, immediately, he pushed her back softly onto the bed, and she fell 
with her legs spread wide resting most of her weight back on her 
shoulders as she lifted her quivering hips to open herself to his 
probing mouth.

"Oooohhhhhhh," she moaned lasciviously. "Don't stop, darling. That's 
soooooooo good."

Bill was too engrossed to be surprised at his pleading wife's actions. 
He thought that his wife, too, had been without sex all this time and 
would be ready for anything. He would not even be surprised if, in 
order to satisfy herself, she had been masturbating during their month 
long abstention. The thought of Laura finger-fucking herself brought an 
involuntary twitch to his blood-filled penis, already jerking in 
anticipation of what was to come, and he nuzzled in closer, his tongue 
licking wetly at the smoothly pink flesh that enclosed the puckered 
hair-lined opening to her beckoning vagina. Then, pulling himself up so 
that he too was completely on the bed, he felt her tugging desperately 
at him, urging him to turn his muscular body so that she could also 
indulge in sucking him.

God, Bill thought to himself, she's really ready. I've never seen her 
like this before. Eagerly, he turned so that his massively thrusting 
cock neared her swaying head, pulling at her phallus-like clitoris with 
pursed lips at the same time, torturing the moistly throbbing bud until 
Laura thought she could no longer stand it.

"Oh, my darling," the quivering young woman gasped aloud as she pulled 
her husband's aching shaft of flesh toward her pursed lips and, with a 
lascivious groan, sucked the huge, bulbous head into her moist warm 
mouth at once, swirling her tongue around it voraciously.

"Ooooooohhhhhh, baby," Bill moaned in ecstasy, feeling her hot lips 
hungrily caress the length of his painfully hardened cock. Her sharp 
teeth toyed carefully with the edges of his sensitive glans-eye, like 
razor blades cutting into the swollen flesh, and she gulped at him 
lovingly, even though her mouth was not as full as it had been with 
George's great cock. This was better, because this was the man she 
loved! The man she really loved!

The young husband pointed his tongue and expertly entered the openly 
waiting passageway to his wife's velvety soft insides, her silky flesh 
burning at his touch. The tongue circled quickly around the inner flesh 
of her seeping vagina, while he sucked at her with steadily increasing 
fervor.

"Oh, darling," Laura gasped, uncontrollably. "Oh, George, please hurry, 
George ..."

George! The name lanced through Bill's brain like a pistol shot. 
George! She had called him George! His huge cock suddenly deflated like 
a burst balloon in her mouth and her lower jaw dropped at the sudden 
shriveling of his rock-hard penis, unaware in her wild sexual reverie 
of what she had said. Bill raised himself on the bed and looked at his 
wife incredulously. His eyes red with hurt and anger, sheltered by 
arched brows that could have belonged to Satan himself.

"You called me 'George'," he said, almost in a whisper.

Laura's face turned to a mask of terror as she remembered. She had said 
George! Oh God, it was over: she was exposed and vulnerable, and from 
the enraged look on her husband's face, she thought she might never get 
the chance to explain before, in his wild, jealous rage he killed her. 
She froze as he suddenly lifted himself erect on his knees.

"YOU BITCH!" her distraught husband screamed as he slapped her 
viciously across the face, a red welt immediately rising where his hand 
had struck. Tears of pain and betrayal began to stream down her still 
heated cheeks.

"No, Bill, I - I didn't. You're wrong," she pleaded, looking at him 
beggingly, knowing that he didn't believe her.

"You just couldn't resist that big stud, could you," Bill shouted, and 
then slapped her again. The room seemed to crackle with the sound of 
his hand striking her face. "How long," he shouted at her, getting off 
the bed and walking to the closet, facing the closet door. "How long, 
you whore?" he demanded, then slammed his fist through the wooden 
panel.

Afraid to answer, she sobbed while he waited.

"Answer me!" he yelled at her, turning so that she could see his blood 
red eyes, filled with tears of rage. His powerful fists were clenched 
at his sides, and every muscle in his tall body was tight and straining 
at his skin.

"Once," Laura answered, waiting for his reaction. "Only once."

"Bullshit!" he roared. "So you expect me to believe that?" He took a 
step toward her, and her voice broke as she spoke.

"Please, Bill, you must believe me! I was drunk. It was the night you 
left for Dallas. I was drunk when he brought me home. It was in the 
car. I ..."

"In the car? Christ! Like a couple of fucking high school kids!"

"No, darling, please. I was so drunk, I thought it was you," she lied. 
"I didn't know, until we were in the house and had coffee ..."

"You brought him into the house? Into our house? Into our bed?"

"No, I, no ... yes ... in the house."

"Did he fuck you here, on this bed," Bill asked, his voice suddenly 
becoming almost sinisterly quiet. He moved closer to her, standing over 
her defenseless figure as she cowered pathetically on the bed, trying 
to tell him what had happened.

"Yes, here," she sobbed.

"Then, say it, you little whore," Bill hissed, leaning on his knuckles 
over her. "Say that he fucked you here."

"Yes!" she yelled back. "He fucked me here!" And then she broke and 
started sobbing, recognizing the lewd grin on her husband's face as the 
same one she had seen when George had ravaged her on the very same 
bedspread a few nights before.

"Did he play with this?" Bill asked, putting his fingers on the still 
tingling bud of her clitoris. Laura nodded helplessly as he began to 
toy with the erectly swollen organ that already ached from so much 
attention. "Or this," her husband continued, shoving his finger cruelly 
into the dampened opening of her vagina. "What else did he do? This?" 
and he bent his head and bit at the softness between her splayed legs. 
"Tell me!"

This wasn't her Bill. She could not believe that the depraved man down 
there between her wetly trembling thighs was her own husband. She 
started to mumble what had happened to her, feeling his tongue drive 
deeper into her burning cunt as she half-whispered out the sordid story 
of her obscene adultery, playing with her, bringing her quickly to a 
new height of tense excitement as she talked.

"And he made me suck him," the tortured wife groaned with mixed pain 
and pleasure, her body writhing beneath his nibbling lips. "His ... he 
was almost soft when we started and he made me suck it."

Bill's cock too, was soft, but as he nibbled at the open mouth of his 
unfaithful wife's moistened cunt, he turned his body on the bed above 
her. She knew exactly what the gesture meant and bent her head, 
grabbing the limply flaccid cock and swallowing it deep in her wet 
mouth. It grew rapidly as she began to suck at it, the rosy bulbous 
head rising in temperature until it heated the entire inside of her 
vacuuming mouth.

"Then what?"

"He made me hum while I sucked him," Laura answered, her eyes closed 
with shame.

"Then hum, bitch!" Bill commanded. "Suck me and hum just like you did 
with him!"

Quickly Laura obeyed. From deep within her desperately working throat 
came a sound she had heard only once before, the sound of a woman 
humming as she sucked greedily at a man's blood-swollen cock. She could 
feel the massive rod of her husband's male flesh twitching and 
throbbing in her mouth, leaking small drops of warm pungent sperm as 
she sucked, which she swallowed greedily. The growing furnace between 
her own legs was beginning to burn through her entire body, as Bill 
sucked at her and shot his invading tongue again and again deep into 
the openly presented lips of her receptive cunt.

"Then did he fuck you?" he asked her, raising his head from her loins 
for a moment.

"Not exactly," Laura gasped, almost unable to control her voice. He 
wouldn't, she thought. Her own husband wouldn't do what George had! 
He's not that cruel!

"What do you mean, not exactly?" Bill insisted.

"He - he did it to me from behind," she stammered, unable to look at 
his contorted face.

"In the ass?" Bill's voice rose incredulously. "He fucked you in the 
ass?"

"Yes, oh yes, but please don't. It - it hurts, darling, it hurts," the 
tormented young wife pleaded as though her life depended on it.

He pushed at her puckered anus with his finger, contemplating if he 
should go on with his torment. But then he stopped, realizing that 
obviously Laura had been forced to do it that way, and he would have no 
part of that. Besides, he had had enough revenge for now. What he 
wanted now was his cock to drive deep within her and remind her that 
her body belonged to him and no one else, and if they were to talk, 
they would do it later. He quickly turned his strong body on the bed, 
meeting her tear-streaked face with his. Her eyes were reddened by her 
crying, and he felt a pang of remorse as he brought his mouth to hers 
and kissed her brutally, crushing her lips with his.

She in turn wrapped her smooth arms around his neck and ground her 
pelvis up into his burning loins.

"I won't do that," he said to her, "but I'm going to fuck you like 
George never could! Do you want me to fuck you like that?"

"Yes, Bill, please. Fuck me as hard as you can, harder than ever 
before. Please fuck me now!" Laura pleaded, wanting in her agony for 
him to destroy her, so that their love might be born again.

Bill repositioned himself above his wife's defenseless body, and thrust 
at her with all the strength in his tremendously swollen cock, finding 
the entrance to her adulterous cunt and plunging himself deeply into 
her.

"Ooooohhhhh," she moaned. "Ooohhhh, I love you, I swear I do, darling. 
Fuck me, please!" Her obscene words and wild groaning excited Bill to 
an instant frenzy. For half an hour they had been tormenting each other 
with sex and with words, and he could hold back no longer. He began to 
thrust himself up into her hotly contracting pussy as hard as he could, 
not caring to make it last, wanting only to fill his wife's traitorous 
cunt to the brim with his vengeful seed.

Each stroke was like the first for Laura, except that it was more and 
better and harder than the last. Each time he drove into her, she 
kicked her spasming legs out wide and drove her hips up to meet him, 
feeling as though she could cum immediately. They were both on fire, as 
though trying to destroy each other, fighting more than loving: he 
wanted revenge on her and she wanting to appease his honor, trying to 
hurt herself as they drove harder and harder against each other. It was 
only moments before they reached that goal they both so desired.

"Oh, arrrggggghhhh," Bill groaned as his climax hit him like a crashing 
thunder bolt. His white-hot sperm pulled its torturous way up from the 
depths of his heavily-slapping balls like a hungry bear falling upon a 
stray piece of meat, the milky hot liquid shooting out in wildly 
uncontrolled spurts toward the heat that burned inside the spastically 
straining belly of his wife beneath him. Laura grunted, contracting the 
muscles of her enflamed cunt tighter and tighter around his drivingly 
plunging cock as he erupted again and again, and spewed spurt after 
spurt of his long stored sperm into her suddenly tensing body.

"Oh, yes!" Laura wailed hysterically, "I'm cummmmmmiiinnnnngggggg, 
tooooooo!" and she arched her smooth back upward like a tilting wagon 
about to go over the edge of a cliff into nothingness. As her husband's 
scalding sperm filled her to the bursting point and mingled wetly into 
her own, her spasming muscles contracted rhythmically time and again, 
blurring her senses until it seemed as though she and Bill were no 
longer separate entities but one person, one unity, forged together 
into one sensuous being that groaned out ecstatic climax with the 
wanton abandon of a new birth, a new being. God, she hoped it were so! 
It had to be so! The future was a void if it was not!

*   *   *

Laura lay with her head cradled in the crook of her husband's arm, 
breathing silently as he pondered what she had just told him. After 
they had made love - in the relative calm and rationality of his 
exhaustion - Laura had managed to explain in detail the events of that 
terrible night to her husband. At first Bill had not believed that his 
neighbor, his good friend, could be so scheming, so patiently lusting 
and oblivious to the consequences of seducing another man's wife. And 
then to resort to the rather cheap method of plying his intended victim 
with some rare aphrodisiac was more than Bill could stomach: he was 
ready to run over to the Farrington's house right then and there, to 
call George Farrington out and beat him within an inch of his life. And 
this he would have done, too, had not Laura told him quickly the reason 
she had submitted to George later that same evening.

And now Bill lay with his eyes searching the crevices between his 
wife's petite fingers, massaging her hands together unconsciously as he 
digested the full import of what his wife had told him.

"I can't believe it, honey," he said finally. "I just can't believe it. 
I came home from Dallas, thinking that I've escaped from this kind of 
thing, and I find that one of our good friends is blackmailing us with 
the same ... Christ, it is just too fucking unbelievable!"

"But it's real, darling," Laura whispered, "I know it is. George will 
tell everything, I know he will, unless I go along with him. I wasn't 
even supposed to tell you."

Bill looked at the downcast eyes of his beautiful and desirable young 
wife, and lifted her lowered face up to his with both hands, kissing 
her briefly on the lips.

"Well, I'm glad you did, honey. Of course, I would have found out 
anyway - but I'm glad I heard it from you."

"Oh, darling," Laura said contritely, "I'm so sorry for what I've done 
... I should have known ... should have been able to do something ..."

"I'll be damned if I'm going to let that big stud think he can push me 
around, by God." Bill wasn't listening to his wife, and it suddenly 
seemed to Laura as she watched him getting upset again, that even when 
she'd been relating what George had done to her, Bill had seemed 
strangely unconcerned. Or was it her imagination? He'd seemed more 
concerned with the fact that he had somehow been insulted, than that 
his wife had been forcefully taken against her will. Even now, Laura 
could see him trying to think of ways to get even, to escape the snare 
George Farrington had laid for him - but what she wanted from him was a 
continued and reassuring understanding and compassion for her own 
plight, and she wasn't getting it.

"Funny, I always looked on George Farrington as being a little dense, 
you know?" Bill continued. "Well off, but dense. But I think he's a lot 
smarter than I thought."

Laura said nothing more, as her husband turned away from her to go to 
sleep, not remembering, or bothering, to kiss her goodnight before he 
did so. The oversight was not lost on Laura, as she looked at him 
momentarily, and then settled back exhaustedly under the covers to 
prepare for yet another sleepless night. Didn't Bill even care what she 
had gone through, the mental torment and anguish?

Turning on her side to face her husband's strong back, she lowered her 
head to rest against his relaxed muscles, deciding that the shock of it 
all must account for his apparent lack of concern. Of course, that must 
be it, the no longer innocent wife reassured herself. That must be the 
reason ... for he loved her, didn't he?

Of course he did.



Chapter 6


Abby Farrington pulled her bright red Austin-Healy up in front of the 
palatial residence of her friends, Peter and Marge Lessing, eased out 
of the tiny front seat, and walked briskly up to the front door. Her 
mind had already formulated the scheme she planned to use to completely 
intimidate her next door neighbor, Laura Wilson, and she felt sure that 
the Lessings would cooperate with her wholeheartedly. She rang the 
rather ornate antique bell that hung beside the mansion's double oak 
doors, and waited only a few moments before the door was opened for 
her.

"Hello, Jackson," she said to the huge man who greeted her, "Are Peter 
and Marge home?"

"Uhh, yes they are, Mrs. Farrington. Come on in."

Abby didn't know whether Jackson was the man's first name or last, but 
it didn't really matter. She smiled almost conspiratorially as she 
followed the valet-butler in towards the main living room of the 
stately house, marveling at the physical endowments which the giant 
possessed, and aware at the same time of his minuscule mental 
capacities. She wondered idly whether she herself would be able to 
survive the kind of punishment she felt sure he would wreak upon any 
woman he got his hands on, the kind of punishment she planned to submit 
the young Laura Wilson to - and decided that she would just as soon not 
find out. Jackson's incredibly powerful body, combined with his almost 
total lack of intelligence, might very well cause irreparable damage to 
any woman unlucky enough to fall victim to his amorous advances.

Smiling to herself at the thought, Abby followed the ape-like man-
servant into the living room, and giggled as he announced her in 
pseudo-formal terms.

"Mrs. Farrington to see you ... boss," he muttered, and then turned 
quickly and left the room.

"Abby, baby, what a surprise! Did you leave something last night?"

Peter Lessing was a heavy set man in his late forties, with an almost 
tangible aura of smoothness which oozed from him like the old fashioned 
pomade he used to smother his shiny black hair. What many people 
mistook for sophistication was really only greasiness, an oily kind of 
ease that had been born of many years of semi-confidence games: 
business deals in which Peter, who had been born poor, managed to 
slither up the ladder of success and reach his now prominent position. 
Not that he wasn't charming in his own way - not at all. In fact, most 
people he met were immediately taken in by his carefully cultivated 
charm, and it was only the rare person who managed to see beneath the 
golden glitter, to the base metal that lay below.

"No, I didn't leave anything," Abby smiled, coming across the room to 
him to accept his proffered kiss. "I see you're getting your 
Neanderthal better and better trained everyday."

"Who? Oh, you mean Jackson. Yes, he's doing better, the brute; in fact, 
if you don't expect anything from him, he seems to be doing wonders!"

"Is Marge home?" Abby queried, coming around him to sit on the long, 
heavily overstuffed sofa that curled away to one side of the great 
fireplace.

"Yes, I'm right here," came the sultry voice from behind her, and Abby 
turned to greet the voluptuous Mrs. Lessing.

"Marge, how are you?"

"Oh, all right I guess. Nothing that an Alka-Seltzer won't cure. Why 
the unexpected visit?"

Marge Lessing was the perfect complement to her husband: tall, liquid, 
pulsing with a kind of feline grace and excitement that made men feel 
themselves pulled to her like magnets. Her heavily lidded eyes seemed 
half-closed all the time, which gave her liberally made-up face the 
perpetual look of some kind of Italian seductress, continually 
inviting, enticing, alluring, with just the slightest promise of the 
sensual delights a man could find in her bed.

"Well," Abby began in answer to her question, "I have a kind of request 
to make of you two."

"Request?" Peter repeated. "What kind of request, Abby? As you know, my 
dear, your wish is my command."

"I kind of doubt that," Abby laughed, "But I think you'll go for this 
little plan, though."

"What is it, Abby?" Marge asked.

"Well, George has got himself mixed up with our next-door neighbor ..."

"Goddamn that George, he just won't stop, will he?" Peter laughed out 
loud. "I'll swear he's going to drop dead in some little lady's bed 
some night, if he doesn't watch out."

"And are you upset about that, Abby?" Marge asked, returning to the 
subject.

"No, of course not," Abby replied. "But still, as you must know Marge, 
there's always a little bit of the cat in a woman when she sees her 
husband with another woman."

"Marge!" Peter said in mock amazement, "Is that true?"

"Sometimes, Peter baby, sometimes ..." his seductive wife answered 
playfully, and then she turned back to Abby, "And you've got it in for 
George's new flame, is that it?"

"Oh, not really," Abby answered. "I mean, she's harmless enough, but 
she's such a little snot, you know what I mean? I just think she can 
stand being taken down a peg."

"And you want us to help you, eh?" Peter broke in. "Sounds like fun. 
What do we have to do?"

"Well, if it's all right with you, I thought I might invite the Wilsons 
over here for your next party. We're going to invite them up to our 
cottage next week-end, to kind of warm them up, you might say, and then 
at your party we might just ... how should I put it ... really lay it 
to them?"

"Sounds great!" Peter exclaimed enthusiastically. "I mean, if she's 
passed George's inspection, she must be worth the trouble."

"What's her husband like?" Marge asked a little too carelessly.

"I'll tell you after this weekend," Abby laughed. "But from all outward 
appearances, he should be enough to keep both of us busy."

"Then I too accept," Marge smiled wickedly. "We'll be happy to help you 
any way we can."

"Good! I knew I could count on you," Abby smiled. "There's just one 
other thing ..." She paused slightly.

"And what might that be?" Peter grinned.

"I think that what little Laura Wilson needs is a real shock - oh, not 
that you and my husband couldn't handle that," Abby added quickly to 
Peter. "But I was thinking, it might be interesting to see Jackson in 
action as well. I mean, we've never really seen what he can do, have 
we?"

Peter straightened up where he was standing by the fireplace, and 
frowned slightly, a hint of apprehension showing plainly in his face.

"You want to let Jackson go to work on this Laura Wilson?" he asked 
dubiously.

"Well, I thought it might be fun," Abby answered.

Again, the frown creased Peter Lessing's ponderous face, and he looked 
skeptical.

"I don't know, Abby," he said slowly. "I don't know if I can trust 
Jackson ... I mean, he might really hurt her."

"Oh, I doubt that," Abby said quickly. "I mean, he is human, after all, 
though just barely. And if you made it clear to him that he wasn't to 
harm the girl ... you know he'll do anything you say."

"I don't know ..."

"Oh, come on, Peter, be a sport," Marge chimed in. "I'm sure it would 
be all right. We can all watch and make sure he doesn't do anything to 
her. And besides, Abby's right. It would be a hell of a sight to see. 
I've wondered myself just what our Jackson would do in that kind of 
situation."

"But Marge ..."

"No 'buts'. It's the least we can do for a friend," Peter's wife smiled 
seductively. "Come on, darling, do it for me."

Peter looked at the two women, staring at him with an almost visible 
hunger in their eyes, an almost childish pleading etched across their 
excited faces.

"Oh, all right," he finally said with a laugh. "I know I won't get any 
peace around here until I agree. I can see you two have been dying to 
see Jackson in the flesh for a long time, so I might as well say yes."

"Oh, Peter, you're a doll," Abby cried, leaping up to throw her arms 
around him and kiss him soundly on the lips. "Why don't you call him in 
and tell him."

"No, I'll do that later, when I can make sure he's calm, and listening. 
I don't want him to make any mistakes, you know."

"But you will do that won't you. I mean you won't change your mind the 
minute I leave?"

"Don't worry about that, Abby," Marge said, crossing the room to stand 
by her husband. "I'll be here to make sure everything is taken care of. 
For some reason, I'm getting just as excited about this little 
adventure as you are."

"Yeah, and I know what that reason is, you sexy little voyeur," Marge's 
husband laughed out loud. "Don't worry, Abby, everything will be taken 
care of."

"Well, you're both dolls," Abby smiled, taking each of their hands. "I 
don't know what I'd do without you."

"Well, that's what friends are for," Marge said warmly, and, strangely 
enough, she meant it.

*   *   *

Laura Wilson hesitantly opened the front door to her house, and her 
heart jumped to her throat. George Farrington was standing outside, his 
hand raised to knock again, and she stared at the upraised fist in 
sudden terror.

"Hey, don't be frightened," he said jokingly. "You scared me as much as 
I did you."

The young wife drew in a deep breath, and stepped aside. She knew that 
it would do no good to try to keep him out; that until she and Bill 
figured out some way to thwart him, she would have to remain his 
unwilling servant. Today was the first time she had heard from him in 
days, and she had hoped that he might have decided not to do anything 
more to her. Perhaps he has changed his mind, was all she had been able 
to think of since that terrible night, though she knew it was not true. 
That would just not be like her neighbor at all and was just too much 
to pray for.

"Shall we start with coffee again," George said with a cocky grin as he 
stepped inside, his words a directive more than a question.

"I don't have the time, George. I have to pick Bill up at the office," 
Laura lied, trying to stall him off as best she could.

"Now, Laura. I'm picking Bill up in two hours. Should we go in the same 
car, or did you want to split him?" George laughed. He had told her 
husband that he would drive him home, in order to make sure that he 
would be safe and alone with Laura.

"All right," Bill's wife said in defeat, walking dejectedly to the 
kitchen to heat the coffee. George followed her down the hallway 
silently, and she wished he would speak. What could he want? she 
wondered. The only good that had come from her night with George 
Farrington was that now she and her husband were fighting for something 
together; but they had no weapons, no defense, and did not really know 
what they were fighting against. George had not made anything clear and 
it was up to him to set the battle line: they would be on the defensive 
until then, no matter what.

And Laura knew, though she would not admit it to herself, that she 
still had horribly mixed emotions about that fateful night with George 
Farrington. As she pulled a cup and saucer from the cupboard, she could 
not rid her mind of the image of George's obscene demands on her body 
... demands she had complied with.

"I'm not drinking alone," he said, interrupting her thoughts abruptly.

Without protesting, Laura drew another mug from the shelf and turned to 
face him. He sat at the breakfast table smoking an extra long 
cigarette, watching her through the fragile smoke ring he had just 
blown. He took his time to speak.

"Haven't you anything to say?" he asked finally. "You didn't think that 
I would evaporate, did you? That's one trick I haven't learned yet, but 
I'm working on it." George was pleased with what he said, considering 
himself something of a wit, but Laura was unamused.

"Of course not," she said, trying to cover her turbulent emotions. 
"But, I thought perhaps you had changed your mind. Really, George, if 
you would think about it ..."

"Oh, I've been thinking about it," her neighbor grinned lewdly. "But 
I've only been making plans, not destroying them. The coffee is ready."

Laura turned to the counter and unplugged the pot, pouring them both a 
cup. Don't let him put anything in it, she prayed to herself silently. 
Images of his licentiously naked body still lurked in her mind, urging 
her to do those things he had forced her to do before. She could not 
deny that he had made her feel like a complete woman for the first time 
in her life, but she could not remove the horrible guilt that inked her 
conscience.

"What kind of plans do you mean," she said hesitantly, hoping to 
discover what he really wanted. If she only had something definite to 
tell Bill, then maybe they would have something to fight with. If it 
was only sex he was thinking of, then she would be in for something 
more than their first encounter, and Laura wondered silently to herself 
if she had the strength of will to go through all that soul-destroying 
shame and humiliation again.

"Plans for all of us," George answered her, taking a sip of the hot 
black drink. He didn't need to put anything into the cups, knowing by 
her nervous fidgeting that he wouldn't need the potion this time.

"When I bring Bill home, I'll tell him my plan also. By the way, you 
haven't told him about the other night, have you?"

"No," Laura lied. "How could I?"

"Good. He doesn't need to know yet." His reply puzzled her. "You won't 
have to tell him that I was here this afternoon either."

"George, I can't ..."

"Of course, you can. We have the time. Take your coat off while I tell 
you what is going to happen."

Laura had forgotten that she still wore her light coat. She had been 
planning to go for a drive when he had arrived. She took it off and 
laid it on the kitchen chair.

"You, Bill, Abby and I," he continued, "will be taking a little trip 
together this weekend."

Laura was again surprised. "I don't think I could stand it," she said, 
her eyes opening in shock. "I just couldn't be together with Abby and 
Bill, knowing that we've done what we've done ..."

"And will do again," George interrupted. "You look warm. Take off your 
blouse."

Laura was shocked and she looked away from him toward the open kitchen 
window. The thought of stripping in her own kitchen confused her, and 
when George told her to close the window and draw the drapes, she 
obeyed almost mechanically, and then stood silent. He glared at her and 
continued to speak, while she started slowly to unbutton her blouse.

"There's nothing to worry about," he said lecherously. "The four of us 
will have a very cozy time in our little vacation cabin. Abby has told 
you about our retreat, hasn't she?" Laura nodded and fumbled with the 
third button on her blouse.

His lewdly shining eyes burned into her brain and his obscene smile 
infuriated her. She wanted to smash those perfect teeth and end her 
torment forever, but he continued to talk in his usual smooth way, 
while she moved as though a slave following her master's commands.

"The four of us will get to know one another very well before the 
weekend's over."

For a moment, Laura didn't understand what he meant, and then it hit 
her like a bolt of lightning. Bill would never stand for it! It was the 
first time that she realized that George was talking about swapping 
partners, and while she had heard of people doing the same thing, 
especially in the counties north of San Francisco, she had never met 
anyone who had actually done it. Her mind recoiled in horror at what he 
was suggesting, but her hands somehow continued to move on and, against 
her conscious will, unfasten the fourth and fifth buttons of her 
blouse.

The kitchen air felt enticingly cool in the deep cleavage between her 
firm young breasts, and she suddenly knew that George was going to take 
her again, that he was going to do it to her right in her own kitchen, 
in broad daylight. She and her husband had never made love during the 
day, except on their honeymoon, and even then the drapes were drawn in 
a large dark hotel room. The prospect strangely excited her, but she 
held back, her vow not to let her lusting neighbor touch her again 
flickering through her swirling brain.

He continued talking about the trip.

"Abby has plans for Bill, too," he grinned, seeing the anguished look 
on her face. "You don't think it can be done? Well, it just may 
surprise you how easy it's going to be."

Laura forgot the cool air that was playing lewd caressing games with 
the near-nakedness of her swelling breasts. She could not be part of a 
conspiracy against her husband, because if he were to be unfaithful, 
then it would be her fault, and she had done enough already. But George 
anticipated her thoughts.

"And don't think for a minute, little girl, that you are going to tell 
him in advance. If you warn him, it would take the fun out of it. 
Neither of you can get out of this now, and you know it. Bill would be 
run out of Oak Park within a week if I were ever to spill what I know, 
so just relax and let's enjoy it." George's grin broadened as he saw 
the defeated look cross the young wife's beautiful face, as though the 
end of the world were coming.

Thwarted, Laura dropped her hands to her sides. What could she do? Her 
confidently smiling neighbor held all the trump cards, and she would 
just have to play along. Obviously, nothing else would work.

"I told you to take off your blouse," he said, startling her out of her 
thoughts. Slowly she did as he said, slightly embarrassed, but, in 
spite of her helplessness, strangely aroused by the thought of him 
looking at her naked breasts in broad daylight.

George stared at the lushly round firmness of her obscenely exposed 
breasts, the cool air extending her nipples and causing them to become 
quiveringly erect. Goose flesh covered her body as she mechanically 
dropped her blouse to the freshly washed floor, the buttons clicking on 
the tile, and her hands hung limply at her sides awaiting his next 
command.

"Shoes," he said, and she bent to remove them, the weight of her heavy 
breasts pressing toward the floor as she stood first on one foot, then 
the other. She spent a moment longer than necessary arranging her shoes 
neatly on the floor, and the weight of her voluptuously full breasts, 
hanging loosely beneath her, pulled at the muscles in her chest, the 
muscles that kept her body firm and young looking.

George watched the shimmering white breasts as they swayed gently 
beneath Laura's moving body. He knew exactly how it made her feel, but 
said nothing as she arranged her shoes: if she wanted to work herself 
up, he would let her.

"Well, what are you stalling for?" he asked, finally, enjoying his 
power to command her to the utmost. She straightened up at his words 
and started to walk meekly toward him.

"No," he said. "The skirt. Take off your skirt, and make it good."

Laura's face flushed. She was being made into a common stripper whose 
only purpose was to give him a cheap thrill, she thought wretchedly to 
herself. But there was nothing she could do - she had to obey this 
fiendish man's every command, or risk the destruction of her life in 
Oak Park. Slowly, she put both hands behind her back to find the zipper 
of her skirt. Her shoulders were back as she started hesitantly to 
unzip the skirt, and she had to lean forward slightly to unfasten the 
button, her milky white breasts again swaying sensuously with the 
motion of her body. Her golden brown nipples were tautly erect and a 
red flush of sexual excitement began to spread itself involuntarily 
across her blushing face.

The button came undone easily, and she started to slide the skirt down 
over her softly flaring hips. It came off easily and fell to the floor 
with the blouse and shoes, and she stood completely naked except for 
the white silk panties, which George did not have to tell her to take 
off. This she did by herself, easily, turning her back to him and 
exposing the lushly full moons of her buttocks, which gleamed marble-
like in the shaded light.

George could feel his huge blood-filled penis pressing hard against his 
pants as she dropped the flimsy nylon panties onto the tile floor, and 
it was all he could do to keep from stripping himself and taking her 
then and there. But he had other plans for his seductive little 
neighbor, who he knew was still resisting his advances.

"Show me that you are enjoying yourself," he said, and for a moment she 
thought to walk toward him, but knew that he did not want that. He 
wanted to further humiliate her and she knew there was nothing at all 
she could do about it. And now ... standing completely naked and 
exposed in front of him in her own kitchen, she was not certain there 
was anything she wanted to do about it ... Not certain the small subtle 
flames now beginning to lick at her aroused young body would allow her 
to do anything but bend to his will. The traitorous dampness now 
growing between her legs urged her to go to him, and she could see that 
his left hand was below the table top, obviously massaging his swollen 
penis. With a sudden start, Laura realized that she wanted to be doing 
that for him herself, wanted to enclose his huge maleness in her hotly 
grasping hands, but she knew also that he wanted something else, 
something even more bizarre and tantalizing from her before he took 
her.

She had read enough novels to guess her own next move. She put her 
hands to her lewdly naked breasts and cupped the firm, succulent flesh, 
her eyes glued to his. She knew he wanted her to excite him by touching 
herself until he was ready to take her, and the dampness between her 
legs increased as she rubbed her hands with tantalizing slowness around 
the rigidity of her swollen nipples.

"Sit on the table and play with yourself for me," George suddenly said, 
his eyes glowing from the passion building in his mind.

Oh no! Her mind raced again in confusion. He wanted her to finger 
herself!

Oh God, the same shame again!

She had masturbated guiltily a few times when Bill had been neglecting 
her for so long, but to do it in front of another person, in front of a 
man ... and in her own kitchen! Her mind rebelled at the obscene 
thought, but her hand was no longer under her control and slid 
compulsively from her tautly vibrating breasts down across her exposed 
belly to her trembling thighs, as she moved her silky buttocks up on 
the edge of the table and lifted her knees up to her breasts. The whole 
of her throbbing loins were exposed to her neighbor's lewdly seeking 
eyes, and suddenly she was even more afraid than when he had taken her 
from behind. She could not pinpoint her fear, but it was there, cruel 
and unyielding. She only wanted natural sex, or at least as close as 
she might come to it, with this sadistic man, but to masturbate in 
front of him was too much for her agonized mind.

But, while her mind rebelled in futile protest, her betraying fingers 
plotted a course of their own down through the soft blonde silken hairs 
above her quivering vaginal opening. George watched her part the thin 
pubic hair between her legs, and with a small mewling groan slip a 
finger down the wetly pink slit and play with the swollen clitoris that 
throbbed there with a seeming life of its own.

George had excited himself tremendously, playing with his aching cock, 
and watching his helpless young neighbor begin to finger herself wild. 
But now he stopped, unwilling to spoil his little plan by losing 
control. He would let this desperately undulating young woman finger-
fuck herself to distraction, and then he would play his little trick.

Laura sat back on the table, almost unaware now of the man watching 
excitedly in her kitchen, her fingers sliding from her fully swollen 
clitoris to the smoothly wet opening of her ruby-red cunt, that 
throbbed and contracted unceasingly between her open legs as though it 
were a hungry animal craving to be fed. Her blonde head rolled 
salaciously back and forth on her tensed shoulders, her long hair 
swinging around her straining neck and shuddering breasts as though she 
were being lashed by an invisible tormentor standing over her. And down 
between her widely splayed thighs, her probing fingers stroked 
rapaciously at the softly pink flesh of her vagina, and then suddenly, 
with a wet and slippery noise, pushed themselves deep up inside the 
hair-lined lips of her aching cunt.

"Ooooooooohhhhhhh," she moaned aloud, her eyes closing and her mouth 
dropping open at the first sensuous touch. Her twisting body stilled 
for a moment, absorbing like sweet nectar the pleasure rippling through 
her, and then, with a deep throated groan that seemed to come from the 
very depths of her primeval being, she began to move her fingers in 
small and erotic circles, teasing cruelly at the fleshy smooth walls of 
her inner vagina. It was good, soooo good ... but not good enough! She 
needed a man!

"George, George ... please ..." she moaned piteously in her agony, her 
eyes still tightly closed to block out the sight of the triumphant grin 
she knew he would be bearing.

But there was not a sound from her tormentor, and she opened her eyes 
slightly, praying to see him standing before her, naked, his erected 
cock jutting out from his powerful body and ready to fill her with its 
massive flesh.

But, Oh God, NO!

He was gone!

Her eyes raced desperately around the shaded room, hoping against hope 
that it was all a lie, that he was still there ... but it was to no 
avail.

He was gone!

Laura groaned in helpless agony and let her hand slip wetly from 
between her desperately twitching legs. There was no use in going on: 
the thought of having George take her had made doing it to herself 
useless. She would never be able to satisfy herself now, and she could 
only curse George Farrington for having toyed with her in this way, and 
curse herself for again falling so easily into the trap he had set for 
her. The raging fire in her belly still stormed out of control, but her 
disgust and self-hatred for having again actually wanted her lecherous 
neighbor to take her, made any thought of satisfying her lust seem 
completely abhorrent to Laura.

Helplessly, she slid from the kitchen table to the floor and with 
effort picked up her fallen clothes. Tiny tears began to stream 
unheeded down her cheeks.

God! Oh God, what was going to become of her! She knew that this 
afternoon she had had no choice but to follow George's commands and 
strip her clothes from her body as he told her, but to suddenly begin 
enjoying it and end up begging for it was another thing. Perhaps she 
was just the whore that Bill had shouted she was when he found out 
about her night with George. Perhaps that was all she was, just a hot, 
fucking little whore who was ready to drop her pants at any cock that 
came along.

Laura dropped to the floor, crying in great gasping sobs and trying to 
blot out the horrible thoughts she was thinking from her mind, but it 
was only after she was completely cried out that she managed to lift 
herself to her feet and stagger down the hallway to the bathroom, to 
prepare herself for Bill's homecoming. The dark shadow of what was to 
come the following weekend hung heavy over her like a black cloak of 
doom, but she knew there was nothing that could be done to stop it ... 
nothing at all. And even if something could be done to stop it ... she 
just didn't think she had the strength to do it.



Chapter 7


Laura lay with her head cradled on the backseat of the Farrington's 
powerful white convertible, as it sped through the blistering Friday 
afternoon heat. As usual, George Farrington was driving at a breakneck 
pace, and Laura preferred to keep her eyes closed rather than watch his 
terrifying progress along the crowded four lane highway.

The last few days had been the longest Laura could ever remember. It 
had almost been as though time had stood still, breathless in 
anticipation of what was to occur that weekend. Laura hadn't seen 
George since her humiliating meeting with him in her kitchen, but she 
had known that he was ever present, just out of sight, the threat of 
his appearance upsetting her as much or more than his actual presence.

But Friday had finally come, and now, as she rested her eyes from the 
brilliant sun that glared off the freeway, Laura listened to Bill and 
Abby chatting, and George occasionally punctuating the conversation 
with a hearty laugh. As for herself, Laura was content to withdraw from 
the group, and try to prepare herself mentally for the test she knew 
was bound to occur within hours. She noticed the car's change of speed 
as it evidently left the freeway, but kept her eyes closed until she 
heard Abby's excited exclamation.

"There it is! It's that brown one over there with all the space around 
it."

Laura opened her eyes, and looked off to the right where Abby was 
pointing. To her surprise, she discovered that they had already reached 
the ocean, and were riding along a narrow dune lined road that 
occasionally afforded glimpses of a long line of rather plush beach 
homes, all with sun drenched porches that faced out to sea. An amazed 
whistle escaped her lips.

"Wow! This is really something!" she said appreciatively as she stared 
at the attractive little brown bungalow that Abby had pointed out.

"Yeah, this is our little hideaway," George said proudly. "We bought up 
the lots on either side so we could have a little privacy."

"Hell," Bill laughed, "it looks like you own the whole beach. What's 
that building down by the water?"

"Oh, that's our boat shed," George answered nonchalantly.

"I didn't know you had a boat!"

"Yep. A real honey. I'll show it to you first thing."

George pulled the car around the circular drive in front of the 
cottage, and stopped next to the front door. As they all piled out of 
the car, George turned to his guests.

"Come on, let's go take a look at my little ship."

"Oh no you don't," Abby said quickly. "I need somebody to help me carry 
these groceries and things in. Bill, you're elected!"

"Well ... sure," Bill responded hesitantly. "You two go on down to the 
boat. I can see it another time. We've got the whole weekend."

"Ah, nothing like true sacrifice," George laughed, already taking 
Laura's arm and beginning to guide her down the steep path to the boat 
house. "We won't be long. Why don't you guys fix yourselves a drink and 
we'll join you in awhile."

Laura felt there was something just a little too glib in George's 
speech, and tried to hold back as they began down the path. But then 
she saw that her husband was already busy unloading the car, and, 
deciding that George would never dare to do anything so soon, and with 
her husband so close by, she followed him down to the boathouse.

George fished through a set of keys before finding the one that fit the 
padlock on the boathouse door, but then quickly opened it and stepped 
inside, turning on the lights as he did so. Laura followed him through 
the doorway, and then gasped in amazement as she saw a beautiful thirty 
foot sloop displayed in the dim light, its mast extending up and out of 
a hole in the roof that had been made for that purpose. The boat was 
white above the waterline, blue below, and had a trunk cabin raised at 
least a foot and a half above the well kept teak decks. The sails were 
all furled and ready to go, and the whole boat looked new and 
vivacious, almost as though it were eager and anxious to set out at 
that very moment.

"Oh, George, it's beautiful ..."

"Yeah. Abby and I just came down and cleaned the whole thing up; you 
know, scrubbed it down and replaced a few of the older pieces of 
rigging. She's ready for sea right now. In fact, we may try her out 
this weekend. Would you like to see below?"

Laura's curiosity and immediate love for the boat outweighed the slight 
feeling of apprehension that flitted across her brain at her host's 
invitation, and she followed George onto the boat, waiting while he 
unlocked the hatch cover and disappeared down the companionway. Then 
some lights came on in the cabin below, and Laura ventured down the 
ladder.

The boat, inside, was every bit as luxurious as it was outside. There 
were places to sleep four, a small galley and head, and surprisingly 
ample space for a thirty foot boat. Laura was particularly impressed 
with the interior decorating, which George had told her had been 
planned by Abby, but which still had a distinctly masculine air to it. 
She was examining what seemed to be an antique oil lamp when she 
suddenly felt George's powerful arms close insidiously around her 
waist.

"No, George! Don't!" she said forcefully, surprising herself a little 
bit by the force of her response and the way she struggled quickly out 
of his unwelcome hold. "I don't want to do that."

"But I want to do it, Laura, and I think ..."

"I don't care what you want! Or what's happened in the past. It's not 
going to happen again."

George looked with amusement at his recalcitrant young guest, smiling 
at her determined, but ultimately futile attempt to put him off. He 
could see that this little show of temper would have to be nipped in 
the bud. He moved quietly back and sat on the edge of one of the bunks.

"It's not going to happen again?" he smiled questioningly, his face a 
picture of attempted understanding. "What's not going to happen again? 
You mean you're not going to let me take you again? Or you would just 
prefer it if I didn't take you again?"

Laura stared at him, as if she couldn't make up her mind to plead with 
him or try to construct a defense against him, which she had little 
hope would succeed. She decided on the latter.

"I ... I mean ... that you can't ... I won't allow you to ..."

Laura stopped abruptly as George stood up suddenly, his face creased by 
anger. She suddenly felt her will leave her with a sudden rush, making 
her feel more alone and afraid than she ever had before. She suddenly 
knew that, try as she might, she was going to have to face him again, 
here and now, even though her husband was less than a hundred yards 
away. She knew this as surely as he now stood there, grinning lewdly 
down into her frightened face. And that realization suddenly made her 
bolt.

She turned quickly to the ladder and tried to climb up, but immediately 
felt George's powerful hands on her again, pulling her off the ladder 
and throwing her viciously across the small cabin. She stared in horror 
as he turned slowly to her, and then made his way to the opposite side 
of the cabin, and proceeded to unfold a large double bunk from the 
wall.

Oh no! Laura thought to herself in desperation. What can I do? It's 
going to happen again, and I don't want it to ... Please God, I don't 
want it to ...

Laura was aware of the tiny tingle that always raced along her spine 
when her thoughts turned to the act of making love, and of being taken 
by this powerful man who now stood facing her. But this time she 
thought, she hoped, that she would not be betrayed by that reflexive 
arousal that had already proven her downfall before with her lusting 
neighbor. Laura buried her head in her hands, hoping to blot out the 
familiar shame and the fear which was again threatening to conquer her 
being.

"You say you don't want it to happen again, eh Laura?" came George's 
sneeringly confident voice. "Well, we'll just see about that. We'll put 
you to a little test."

The desperately anguished young wife looked up, and gasped at what she 
saw. George was standing in front of her, calmly unzipping the fly of 
his pants, unbuttoning the top button, and sliding them off his hairy 
loins with a smoothly hypnotic motion. His jockey shorts bulged 
obscenely with the growing swell of his aroused cock, and his hand 
snaked along his hips, in one quick motion lowering his shorts to his 
knees and allowing his massively jutting shaft to spring out toward 
Laura with unbelievable force.

The trembling young woman gasped, and yet could not take her eyes off 
the glistening shaft of male flesh that stared her in the face with its 
one, monstrous eye. She couldn't even look up at George, but was 
mesmerized by the rapidly swelling penis in front of her, immobilized 
by the lurid sensations that were beginning to course through her veins 
and suddenly threatening to rob her of her sanity.

Oh God, don't let it happen again! Please don't let me be beaten again! 
But her silent pleas went unheeded, as George slowly and teasingly 
approached her from across the cabin, his hypnotically pulsating penis 
swaying backwards and forwards in front of him as he walked, like some 
kind of cobra, turning her will to jelly as she stared. Her resolve, 
her defenses, were both swept away almost immediately this time, as 
though the number of times she had already submitted to this 
lasciviously plotting man had somehow weakened her defenses - weakened 
them to the point that the simple sight of his nakedly inviting body 
was enough to turn her into a willing and obedient slave.

I'm evil ... I'm a whore. But I want to touch it. I want to hold and 
kiss it ... and suck it ... Oh, God, I've got to.

With an anguished cry, Laura threw herself onto her knees before 
George's hugely throbbing cock, grasping it wantonly with both hands 
and rubbing its muscular rock-hard flesh along the smooth whiteness of 
her cheek. Her mind was suddenly empty now, empty of all her self-
recriminations, her self-debasement, her feelings of shame and 
humiliation. Her whole consciousness was focused with insane 
completeness upon her grinning host's powerful tower of quivering 
maleness, and she wasn't even aware of what George was saying as he 
groaned with pleasure above her. It was as though her mind had suddenly 
snapped under the pressure.

"That's it baby. That's right. You want it, and you can have it. Just 
like you did before. That's it. It'll do for a start, and then we'll go 
on to other games."

*   *   *

Bill Wilson had finished unpacking the car, and now began to make his 
way down toward the boathouse. He didn't like the idea of his wife and 
George Farrington down there alone, and had grown even more suspicious 
when Abby had tried her best to keep him with her up at the house. If 
he had his way, he wasn't going to let Laura out of his sight the whole 
weekend.

Coming to the foot of the path, Bill walked slowly to the open door of 
the boathouse, and then stepped inside. He saw the lights on in the 
cabin of the sailboat, and crept forward until he stood beside the 
cabin. If George Farrington thought he could force his wife to submit 
to any more of his blackmailing advances, he had another thing coming.

Bill heard sounds coming from inside the boat, and knelt down to peer 
through the open porthole on one side of the trunk cabin, pausing a 
moment to let his eyes grow accustomed to the dim light inside the 
shed. Then his face suddenly contracted in anger and disgust as he saw 
what was happening, and heard the commanding voice of George Farrington 
cry out:

"That's it, Laura, baby! Suck it! Suck it like only you can! 
OOOOHHHHHHHHHH"

Bill reeled at the obscene commands his neighbor was calling to his 
wife. His first inclination was to rush into the cabin, and to tear 
George's writhing cock from his wife's unwilling mouth, but his resolve 
left him in a flood as he realized that his wife was enjoying it, was 
not being forced, but was eagerly devouring George Farrington's 
obscenely swaying shaft between her willingly grasping lips.

This was something he hadn't suspected! Bill had been sickened when 
Laura had first told him of how George had forced her to submit to his 
will, and had comforted her when she'd seemed so upset by her 
experience. But now, all at once, the realization hit him that his wife 
must have been lying to him, must have been using his love for her to 
cover her own willing participation in her unfaithfulness. Suddenly, 
Bill saw his wife painted in the damning colors of the typical 
adulteress, who had used and deceived him by saying she had been forced 
to bend to their neighbor's will, when she had in fact enjoyed it ... 
enjoyed it just as she was enjoying it now!

The sight of them naked on the bunk, and George's lust-hardened cock 
stroking sleekly in and out of Laura's wetly cavernous mouth, was the 
most salaciously hypnotic depravity Bill could have imagined. At first, 
he thought he might be in the throes of a lurid nightmare, but then he 
realized that it was horrible reality! An almost bewitching sense of 
helplessness and rage overwhelmed him, and he stumbled against the boat 
for support. But even as his helpless rage began to boil inside him, he 
felt the unwanted stirring and swelling of his own cock inside his 
pants at the lascivious spectacle taking place before him. He gaped 
through the porthole at Laura hunched on all fours between George's 
spread legs, every inch of the lewdly pulsing cock completely absorbed 
inside her ovalled lips and wildly sucking mouth, her magnificent 
breasts juggling and swaying to her pumping motions while George 
strained his powerful loins upward at her face in perfect rhythm.

She was enjoying it!! This thought bounced back and forth in Bill's 
stunned brain, wiping out all thought of his wife's previous 
protestations of innocence. She suddenly became in his shocked mind the 
perpetrator of this whole horrible hoax, and as such ... she had to be 
punished! His abused and violated trust had to be avenged!

With quiet and cat-like movements, Bill moved onto the boat and to the 
hatchway, pausing only long enough to stare at the couple below him 
sprawled salaciously on the bunk inside. Then he moved quickly down the 
ladder.

"Bill!!" Laura exclaimed, as she saw him. "Oh thank God ..."

"Shut up, you fucking bitch," Bill spat mercilessly. "So he made you do 
it? He made you fuck him, did he? You lying slut!"

"Now Bill, listen ..." George began.

"Shut up before I smash your fucking face in, Farrington!" Bill hissed. 
"I'm talking to you now, bitch. Answer me! And don't try to tell me you 
aren't enjoying this ... this disgusting exhibition!"

"Bill, you don't understand, I ..."

"I understand well enough, you cheating slut! I understand you're 
sucking another man's cock! I understand you could have called out to 
me if you really hadn't wanted it to happen! I understand that all 
you've said to me about how George raped you were nothing but goddamned 
lies!!"

"Bill ..."

"Don't try to worm your way out of it now!!!! I saw you just now, and 
you can't tell me anybody was forcing you to do anything you didn't 
want to do. Well, go ahead, don't let me stop you! I'll just watch ..."

"Oh God ..." Laura moaned piteously.

"No, I'll do better than that," Bill continued relentlessly. "I'll join 
in. How would you like that, you cheating whore?" Bill did not wait for 
a reply, but immediately began to strip his clothes from his body, 
furiously impatient in his haste to hurt this woman who had hurt him, 
this woman whom he still loved. Bill's mind was irrational, the lurid 
spectacle of his wife and George Farrington somehow causing him to lose 
all control over himself and become a raging, illogical animal. Laura 
was deathly afraid as she stared at his reddened face, frantic at what 
he might do to her. She had never seen him like this!

She gasped as he quickly lowered his naked body onto the bunk behind 
her, lewdly fingering the bulbous immensity of his already rage-
enflamed cock. Perhaps she deserved it, she thought to herself 
miserably, because she hadn't resisted George Farrington enough, 
because she had again fallen prey to the hypnotic spell of his depraved 
sexuality. Yes, she suddenly cried to herself, Do it, darling! Whatever 
you have to do to me, do it ... do it ...!!

Bill stared down at the erotic sight of his wife's enticingly naked 
cunt, and within him, a conglomeration of rage and lust commanded as he 
hungrily drank in the warm voluptuousness of her young body bent lewdly 
before him. Without pausing to consider what he was doing, the enraged 
husband plunged his middle finger into his wife's moist cunt and 
watched her hips and buttocks jerk from the erotic intrusion. He 
smeared the damply viscid moisture from her flowing vagina over the 
tightly crinkled aperture of her rectum, then wet the head of his 
pulsing cock between her open vaginal lips, and finally nuzzled his 
burgeoning maleness tightly up against her constricted anus.

Laura felt his hands clutching at her hips harshly, holding her vise-
like, his pelvis thrusting his vengeful cock forward in an unbelievably 
agonizing stretching of her defenseless anus! Her breath caught in her 
throat as the vicious spasm of pain became so unbearable that she 
strained and waggled her buttocks desperately to get free of it.

"Aaaaaaauuuuuugggggghhhhh! D-Dear God! Stop it, Bill! Please!!" she 
wailed, jerking her head upright away from George's throbbing shaft of 
flesh and twisting to look back in pain at her husband.

Bill laughed mirthlessly and Laura felt his strong fingers gouging into 
the tender white flesh of her hips, continuing to hold her in the same 
obscenely subjugated position. Her every move only seemed to help to 
drive the thick rod of solid flesh deeper and deeper into her cringing 
anal passage. She gasped as George took her head between his hands and 
forced it down once again over the neglected tip of his achingly 
aroused cock.

"Oh ... oh God!" the young wife moaned as she closed her mouth 
mechanically over George's blood-engorged penis, unfathomable 
sensations of love, pain and lust racing insanely through her ... until 
suddenly she heard herself gasping back at Bill. "Do it! Go on ... do 
it! Do everything ... everything you want to me! I deserve to be 
treated like the bitch that I am ...!"

Bill had no intentions of stopping, nothing could have kept him from 
the debasing act he was about to commit on his errant wife. Damn, if 
any woman ever deserved chastisement that she could understand, she did 
... and he could think of nothing more degrading or humiliating than 
sodomizing her, something he had never before done in his life. He 
stared down at his trembling wife's obscenely bent body with insane 
rage, and the sight of his thick cock protruding from her widely 
stretched asshole fired his lust in a suddenly unexplainable burst of 
licentious desire.

Laura hunched bravely back as she felt her angry husband press forward 
once again. She felt the excruciating torment of his erectly throbbing 
cock surging into her there, pushing the rubbery resisting flesh before 
it until finally, with one lust buttock-flattening lunge, he ground his 
punishing shaft of flesh all the way up inside the warmly constricting 
depths of her wide-stretched rectum.

"Oh God!" she moaned! She deserved everything Bill was giving her for 
all that she had done to him ... but she would be good to him ... and 
she would gladly endure whatever pain, degradation, or humiliation he 
would inflict upon her to prove her love for him.

George lay groaning under Laura's continually sucking lips, gone now 
with the ecstasy she was passing to him through her gasping mouth. The 
sight of Bill fucking his own wife in the anus while she sucked the 
life out of him raised George to unbearable heights of pleasure, and he 
lay with his eyes closed, feeling every pulsing throb of his quickly 
approaching climax.

Laura rotated her firm white buttocks in hungry little circles, waving 
her voluptuous ass cheeks back at her husband lasciviously, knowing 
that there was nothing too depraved or degrading that she wouldn't 
willingly subject herself to for him - that mere realization causing a 
masochistic excitement to flood over her ravaged loins. Even though 
there was still some pain from his large cock skewering into her 
defenseless rectum, it had suddenly become strangely pleasurable too, 
and she found herself beginning to buck and writhe back to meet the 
lewd impalement as he plunged mercilessly forward into her.

Bill couldn't restrain the grunts of lewd pleasure gurgling from his 
tightly drawn-back lips at the sight and thought of what he was doing 
to this beautiful woman whom he loved with all of his heart! Damn, 
she'd know the meaning of chastisement when he was finished with her! 
He felt with lust-incited sensation the warmly soft flesh of her 
flattened buttocks pressing tightly against his churning loins. He 
rammed forward into her clutching nether passage and slid his hand down 
beneath them to her vagina, moist and hot now with her own excitement, 
the viscid dampness lightly coating the glistening cuntal lips and 
seeping into the curls of her silken pubic hair. He grunted, drawing 
his erectly spasming penis out slightly, watching with hesitant breath 
the tender ridges of her reddened anal flesh pulling out around it. His 
breathing came faster, until with a gasp of increased lust, he began to 
saw sadistically into and out of her warmly clasping asshole.

Suddenly, George moaned and strained beneath Laura, and before she 
realized what was happening, her mouth was filled with an undamming of 
his burning cum, gushing down her anxiously swallowing throat in 
surprising quantity. She fought for breath and gulped in desperation as 
the milky white fluid ejaculated wildly from his potent cock and 
plunged all the way up to her contracting throat. And then, as suddenly 
as it had erupted in her mouth, the spurting penis began to lose its 
rigidity and she could feel it slipping from between her feverishly 
sucking lips ... until finally, she trailed her pink tongue over her 
moistly sperm-coated lips, snatching at the last remaining drops of his 
delicious semen that had trickled there. George sighed with satiated 
pleasure and then watched as Bill began a greater assault back against 
his wife's heaving buttocks, and she screwed back against his driving 
cock wantonly, tiny pleading mewls of passion beginning to tumble from 
her lips.

"Ooooohhhhhh," she moaned gaspingly, her face resting on George's 
belly, while her own husband's pelvis smacked solidly against the 
softness of her lush white ass cheeks.

"Oooohhhhh, my God ... I-It's beautiful ...! I never realized ... Oh, 
Bill ... rape it! It's yours! Make me know that you love me! Fuck it 
hard, darling! Hard! Hard ...!" She wanted him to cum ... to shoot his 
hot load of sperm deep into her belly, to split her open and drown her 
in his sticky warm semen's loveliness.

I'm going to cum in her ass, Bill thought insanely. He felt her reach 
back between her widespread thighs to graze and caress his frantically 
churning balls, squeezing them warmly in her hands. Her face was turned 
so that she could see the effect his sodomizing cock was having on her, 
and he watched her lips open and close in all consuming torment of 
pleasurable rapture spiraling through her soft vibrant body. He felt 
her clench her buttocks tightly, as if to imprison and secure his 
driving penis inside her, the sensation spurring him to increase his 
own hammering pace.

"Ooohhhh! OOooooohhhhhh ...! Unnnnhhhh ... yes ... yes ...! I'm ... 
going to cum! Fuck it hard ... hard ...! I'm cuuummmmiiinnnggggg!"

Laura had never realized the delightful abandon she could know with a 
man ... nor such carnally beautiful sensations as she did at that 
moment, with her body quivering and convulsing wildly in an orgasm that 
seemed to go on and on in sheer ecstatic bliss. She was gone ... 
utterly in another world beneath this magnificent cock that continued 
to cause wild exploding sensations of enchantment in her belly and 
loins.

"Oooohhhhh ... aaaaahhhh," she moaned in overwhelming rushing release, 
her senses blurred by the engulfing ecstasy of the moment. Dazedly, 
then, she heard him swear outright, then mouth a foul obscenity, 
gasping behind her and thrusting into her so hard she thought he had 
reached her throat, and inadvertently she moaned with the slight new 
twinge of pain. She felt his strong loins jerk convulsively against the 
flatness of her upraised buttocks, and then a great surge of hot 
swirling sperm flooded deep into her rectum, filling her contracting 
passage nearly to the bursting point.

She heard him gasp again and again ... until at last he grunted one 
final moan of release ... and she sensed him failing back away, slowly 
pulling out of her, collapsing on the bunk inside the now suddenly 
quiet cabin.

George was the first to move. He extricated himself deftly from the 
tangle of arms and legs on the bunk, and got to his feet, immediately 
moving to his clothes and getting dressed. He looked silently at the 
two people on the bunk before him, and then said quietly:

"Very interesting. I think you two hold promise. Get dressed and come 
up to the cottage. I'll have some drinks ready, and we'll talk."

And with that he was gone, leaving Bill and Laura to themselves, 
embarrassed and self-conscious in the aftermath of their irrational 
passions.

"Bill ... darling ... I'm sorry ..."

Without a word, Bill got up from the bunk, moved across the cabin, and 
sat again on the settee with his head between his hands. It was a long 
time before he spoke.

"No ... no, don't say that, Laura. It's ... I'm the one who should 
apologize ... I ... Oh Christ, what came over me?" he asked, with 
despair in his voice.

"Don't worry, Bill, please ... don't worry."

Bill looked up into the forgiving eyes of his wife, and could hardly 
bear to see the love and understanding he knew he would find there.

"I'll make it up to you, Laura. I swear I will ..."

"I know you will, darling," Laura said with infinite tenderness, "and 
I'll make it up to you. And don't worry, we'll find a way out of this 
... as long as we love each other, we'll survive anything anyone can 
throw between us ..." But even as she said this, even as she hoped it 
was true, Laura wondered fearfully just what would be the next 
humiliation the Farrington's could think up to throw their way.



Chapter 8


The huge giant of a man smiled secretly to himself, a kind of 
childishly innocent smile, as he gazed around the living room full of 
well-dressed, softly talking people. The air around him was filled with 
the tinkle of ice in glass tumblers, the low, musical hum of cocktail 
conversation, and just the barely perceptible promise of excitement in 
the looks that shot from one guest to the other, inviting, teasing, and 
luring challenges from one to the next.

Jackson stood with his huge arms crossed formally across his chest, 
like some kind of Arabic bodyguard, watching the guests with moronic 
enchantment, as though they were putting on a play for his benefit 
alone. In particular, he watched two people: his boss, Peter Lessing, 
whom he always kept on eye on, and Laura Wilson. As for Lessing, 
Jackson felt a deep, almost dog-like devotion to the man who had found 
him in the gutters of skid row and elevated him to the position of 
trust and responsibility he now held. Jackson knew that it was only 
through Mr. Lessing's kindness that he was alive and happy today: he 
owed everything to his benefactor, and would have done anything his 
boss told him to.

As for the other person who drew Jackson's half-witted but undivided 
gaze, Laura Wilson, she moved back and forth unaware that the burly 
giant could hardly take his eyes off her. But Jackson kept staring in a 
way that was not so much lusting as it was fascination - the 
fascination a child might have with a promised toy. For Mr. Lessing's 
friend, Abby Farrington, had already pointed the beautiful little 
blonde woman out to him, and Jackson could hardly wait to meet her - 
and play with her. He wondered excitedly how long it would be before 
his boss's friends began to play their wonderful games ... like they 
always did at these parties.

"Laura, darling, are you enjoying yourself?"

Laura Wilson turned quickly to face the familiar voice, and then shrank 
inwardly as she realized it was Abby Farrington.

"Yes, lovely, thank you," Laura replied politely, and quickly moved off 
towards the drinks table, hoping to catch a glimpse of her husband 
Bill. She didn't catch the almost venomous glare that Abby threw at her 
back as she retreated.

Laura didn't want to talk to Abby, didn't even want to see her. Since 
the last weekend, when she and Bill had spent such an orgiastic and 
humiliating two days at the Farrington's beach cottage, she hadn't seen 
either George or Abby once, and that suited her just fine. Laura wedged 
herself in among the crowd at the bar, managed to grab herself a fresh 
glass of whatever the party's hosts were serving as punch, something 
exotic and very strong, and then moved back out of the crowd of people 
around the table, thinking of what had happened the weekend before.

After that terrible experience in the cabin of the Farrington's 
sailboat, Bill and Laura had had a long and soul-searching 
conversation, suddenly freed from all inhibitions about discussing 
their predicament by the violent shock of the unnatural act they had 
just allowed George Farrington to involve them in. They had both 
admitted, in all honesty, that, in spite of their moral repugnance at 
what they had done, they had still become physically excited, no, 
ecstatic, during the course of the act. But they had agreed, no matter 
what the consequences, to refuse to participate in any more of the 
Farrington's perverted schemes.

They had gone up to the beach house from the boat landing, and had 
curtly refused the drink George had offered them. Instead they had 
informed him that he could do whatever he wanted, that Bill's job and 
even their happiness in Oak Park was not worth the humiliation and 
degradation that they were going through as a result of George's 
blackmail.

Laura took a healthy swallow of her punch, and gazed around the crowded 
living room of the Lessing's palatial home, her eyes coming to rest on 
George Farrington's deceptively charming face. She looked quickly away, 
and he didn't see her. But his face, so seemingly rational and sincere, 
brought back to her with complete clarity his response to their 
ultimatum the week before.

George and Abby had listened quietly to the Wilson's somewhat 
hysterical, and yet fully convincing resolve to end their association 
with the Farringtons. George knew, although Bill and Laura didn't, that 
he never really planned to use what he knew about Bill's shady past; at 
least, he had never planned to use it to run Bill out of Oak Park. He 
had used it, and intended to go on using it, to supply his own sex life 
and that of his wife's with interesting and new faces.

But as George had listened that weekend, he had realized that the 
Wilson's just weren't going to be able to take much more - and it 
didn't upset him that much. As far as he was concerned, he knew he 
could find a lot more willing subjects of his obscene manipulations 
than the Wilsons, and besides, he had thought to himself, Laura Wilson 
is never going to really put herself out completely ... not while her 
husband is around. She would never outgrow that puppy love of hers.

But George had known, as well, of their plans for the Wilsons at the 
Lessing's party that weekend, and had realized how upset Abby would be 
if she didn't get the chance to carry through on her own little 
practical joke. And so he had very deftly convinced the emotional 
distraught Wilsons that, rather than force him to tell Bill's boss 
everything, they should be willing to accept a compromise.

Of course, Laura had known nothing of the Farrington's waning interest 
in them as the subjects of their perverted sexual needs, and she still 
didn't know, as she wandered aimlessly around the crowded living room. 
She only knew that, when George had offered them the compromise of his 
promise to keep forever silent about Bill's past, in return for their 
full participation and cooperation in both that weekend at the 
beachhouse and at a party of some friends of theirs the next week, she 
and Bill had accepted. Of course, they had talked it over first, and 
had realized that George might not be intending to keep his promise; 
but still, they had finally decided to accept his because their 
continued life in Oak Park was at least worth taking the chance. What 
could they lose, that they had not already lost in the suffocating 
closeness of the cabin on the Farrington's boat?

The rest of that weekend had been sheer torture, but they had survived 
it. It was amazing to Laura, and to Bill too, that the Farringtons 
could find any pleasure in simply using the unwilling bodies of their 
guests in spite of their obvious distaste and reluctance ... but 
apparently that didn't bother George and Abby. In fact, the more turned 
off they became by the whole proceedings, the more the Farringtons 
seemed to enjoy themselves.

And now, as she walked unknowingly past the attentive Jackson, who 
still stood immobile by the door, Laura realized that this evening was 
probably going to contain even more humiliating concessions on her 
part. But she knew she could bear them, if only because it would be the 
last time she would have to.

"Attention everybody, attention!"

It was the host's, Peter Lessing's voice that boomed over the crowded 
room, silencing the people that stood around expectantly in little 
groups of twos and threes.

"I think everyone's ready for the main course of the evening, what do 
you say?"

There was an enthusiastic murmur from the group, who were evidently 
well aware of what was now going to happen.

"All right then! What are we waiting for?" came a very masculine voice 
from one side of the crowded room, and suddenly, amid wild exclamations 
and giggling laughter, the whole assemblage suddenly began undressing, 
without preamble, or even a moment's hesitation. It was as though a 
nonverbal but familiarly understood cue had been given, and the 
response was a sudden eruption of activity.

Laura stood off to one side, completely amazed at the transformation 
that had come over the group. What had been a normal, even sedate 
cocktail party, now had suddenly become a frenzied and laughing tangle 
of arms and legs, of various and sundry pieces of clothing that were 
quickly shed and hurled around the room at anyone who happened to be 
standing nearby. At once, Laura realized what was going on, and what 
was going to happen. She didn't have to be told that this group had 
done the same thing many times before, and yet she wondered with 
fearful curiosity what her part in the monstrous game was going to be.

She didn't have long to wait before she found out. She saw George 
Farrington crossing to her from across the room, his powerfully built 
body completely naked, his huge cock swinging limply heavy against his 
hairy loins as he walked. She knew she couldn't afford to run, couldn't 
afford not to go along with whatever was going to happen, and so she 
waited until he got up to her. Her head swam with the liquor she'd 
consumed, and she wondered whether that punch had been doctored with 
the same kind of persuasive aphrodisiac that she'd fallen victim to so 
often the past two weeks.

"Well, Laura, aren't you going to get undressed?" George's question was 
more a command than a statement, and she began automatically to obey. 
She removed her clothes quickly, until she was standing in only her 
brief bikini panties, her smoothly round breasts left free to fall 
unencumbered into the cool air of the crowded room. As she undressed, 
she looked around for her husband, Bill, and at last spotted him on the 
other side of the room. With a start, Laura saw that Abby Farrington 
was standing in front of him, teasing his shirt on his manly chest, and 
letting one hand play games with the belt and zipper of his sports 
slacks. Bill looked up at that moment, caught his wife's gaze, and 
smiled bravely, as though telling her silently across that crowded 
room, that everything was going to be all right, and that after this 
one last trial, they would be free forever from the Farrington's 
perverted curse. Laura smiled back at him in answer, and then saw Abby 
looking at her with such an undisguised look of anger and hatred, that 
it made her laugh. Her laugh seemed to serve as a cleansing for her 
frightened soul, and as the young wife turned back to face her 
tormentor, George Farrington, for the last time, she smiled 
challengingly at him as well.

"Well, George, what now?" she said bravely.

George grinned into his neighbor's defiant face, and without a word, 
summoned Peter Lessing to his side.

"Ah, Mrs. Wilson, my dear!" Lessing said, "We have quite a surprise for 
you this evening."

"No doubt," Laura retorted, amazed at her own brashness and lack of 
fear. Perhaps it was the punch. Her head was already spinning terribly, 
even though she'd only had two glasses. Yes, she thought unconcernedly, 
they must have doctored the punch. Suddenly, Laura was aware that she 
was being ushered up to a small stage in one corner of the living room, 
which had been hidden from view before by a large curtain. She noticed 
that everyone in the room now was naked, over twenty-five people, and 
that many were already engrossed in every kind of manipulative foreplay 
imaginable, sprawled here and there around the room on pillows and 
cushions that had been brought out from somewhere. As she walked, Laura 
tripped over a couple, falling on the floor and bruising her shoulder. 
I must be drunker than I thought, she thought to herself dizzily. But 
maybe that would get her through the embarrassment of whatever her 
hosts had planned for her ... at any rate, she hoped so. She didn't 
like the way the two naked men were hustling her toward that stage or 
the way many of the people in the room were turning their heads and 
bodies so that they could see the stage without any trouble.

And then, she was on the stage, and found herself lying on her back, 
staring worriedly up at the ceiling. What was it? What were they going 
to do to her? She closed her eyes in sudden dread, and hoped that she 
could survive it without complaint.

And then she heard an amazed gasp from the crowd of people surrounding 
her, and felt two large, ungainly hands pulling at the silkiness of her 
panties, forcing them down over her now trembling thighs, and exposing 
to the smoke-filled air her defenselessly presented loins. She hadn't 
either the strength now, or the will, to open her eyes. Through her now 
drugged brain, only one thought managed to penetrate: the hope that 
whatever was going to happen would happen quickly, and be over with.

"Ready?" she heard Peter Lessing's excited voice after a few moments, 
and she tried to close her arms over her helplessly exposed breasts as 
she felt the hot breath of a man breezing across her stomach.

"Ready," came an answer in a heavy guttural voice.

Laura's eyes popped open at the sound of the deep voice that boomed out 
six feet above her head, and she stared with sudden panic as she looked 
up to the underside of the largest penis she had ever imagined, jutting 
straight out from Peter Lessing's valet's body in magnificent but 
frightening erection, curving slightly upward toward the incredibly 
bulbous head.

"Oh, noooo ..." Laura gasped aloud. Jackson's feet were on either side 
of her head, and his hairy muscular legs rose from the small stage like 
giant monuments to the threatening phallus at their apex. Laura sank 
back horrified into the mount of cushions where she lay, all her 
courage and strength sapped by the sight of his animalistic nakedness.

"Well, Laura, now you know what's expected of you, don't you?"

Laura turned her head to the side, and stared into the obscenely 
smiling face of Abby Farrington. She could see that George's wife was 
enjoying every moment of her paralyzing fear, reveling in the 
helplessness she saw written all over Laura's innocent young face.

"This ... this is your idea ...?" she managed to whisper, still stunned 
by the enormity of her predicament.

"Yes, dear ..." Abby answered her quietly. "Now we'll just see how 
strong you really are. Jackson here is going to give you the time of 
your life, and we're all going to watch. Sound like fun?"

"You're sick," Laura said, suddenly lucid. "You're all very, very 
sick."

"Yes, my dear, and by the time Jackson is through with you, you'll be 
just as sick as we are," Abby laughed easily. "Go on Jackson," she said 
to the man still standing above Laura, "it's time for that treat we 
promised you."

Laura stared with disbelief as Abby stood up, and walked to where Bill 
waited for her, his face twisted in impotent rage as he realized what 
the Farringtons planned to subject his wife to. But Laura, realizing 
that any show of rebellion at this stage might ruin any chance they had 
to escape the Farringtons once and for all, managed to smile weakly at 
him, telling him without words that he should restrain himself, and 
that she would survive this last indignity with the same success she 
had survived all the others. And Bill returned her smile, giving her 
hope, and restoring the strength that she'd lost. Bravely, she turned 
her face up to the half-witted giant who stood above her, gazing with 
determination into his curiously gentle eyes.

"All right, Jackson," she said, "I'm ready."

She uttered a silent prayer for herself as the giant bent to kiss her, 
his big teeth showing through his half-parted lips. His breath was 
strangely sweet, and she made no sound as his heavy lips sensuously 
caressed her helpless neck. The aphrodisiac accented the physically 
electric touch of his sensuous lips upon her bare skin, and her legs 
weakened as he leaned his huge body on top of her.

His massively swollen cock lay against her thigh, almost reaching to 
her waist and its ungodly hugeness outlined against her defenseless 
flesh frightened her. She looked for her husband, and saw that he was 
sitting next to Abby Farrington, and her fingers were teasing the 
hardness of his erect cock as he gazed with disbelief at what was 
happening to his wife. But Laura knew he could not prevent Abby from 
seducing him this evening, anymore than she could prevent the child-
like but dangerous Jackson from taking her; and the realization that 
Bill was to submit unwillingly to Abby served to give Laura courage to 
face her own terrible test.

Laura stared at the lustfully staring eyes of the group of strangers 
that had now pressed close to the stage, peering lewdly at the exotic 
enchantment of her own naked body. They were all paired off in groups 
of two, fondling, teasing, manipulating each others bodies in wanton 
lasciviousness, and suddenly, Laura's mind was filled with anger, with 
a rage that consumed her drugged brain.

They don't even know me, she thought angrily, they don't care what 
happens to me. They only want a show that will excite them, that will 
give them some kind of perverted kick. Well, what the hell, flickered 
through her tortured mind, if that's what the bastards want, then I'll 
give 'em a show they'll never forget!

Unexpectedly, Laura rose to a sitting position beside the huge valet, 
gently pushing at him, so that he would lie on his back. The giant 
obeyed like a small child, not knowing what she wanted, but willing to 
follow her commands. Perhaps she wouldn't mind what he was going to do, 
maybe she would even learn to like him, he thought innocently. 
Certainly he didn't want to hurt the pretty lady ... Mr. Lessing 
wouldn't like that.

Laura closed her eyes and tried to smile, hiding her disgust at the 
ugliness of Jackson's innocent face. She doubted if a brain like his 
even held the intelligence to add simple figures, but she realized that 
they were both nothing but playthings of the group, both sacrifices to 
the group's perverted pleasure. Laura's mind suddenly softened toward 
the giant beside her: after all, they were both victims of these 
people's selfishness. Suddenly, Laura saw Jackson not as a danger, but 
only as a great child who was being abused by his master, abused as she 
herself was. She determined that she would give the people clustered 
around her a performance with the half-witted man that none of them, 
she was sure, had ever dared themselves.

All the eyes in the room were intently glued to Laura's seductive 
preliminaries now. Everyone had expected to witness a wild and brutal 
ravishment, and Laura's sudden assent and participation in the obscene 
act had stirred their perverse expectations even more. Abby was 
watching impatiently, waiting for the moment Jackson would thrust 
himself into her, would rip her open with the rampaging cudgel of his 
superhuman cock. Her hand was still massaging Bill's throbbingly erect 
penis, and Laura could see that part of Abby's plan was to be taken by 
Bill as she watched his wife being screwed to death on the stage. But 
Laura had other plans.

She turned her head, and gazed into the childishly staring face of the 
giant beneath her, trying to divine the odd look she found there. And 
then she saw that he realized too, through the tangled processes of his 
insufficient brain, that they had become kindred spirits. He knew, as 
she did, that they were being used for other people's perverse 
gratification, and that thought made him ashamed. He realized that this 
girl was so beautiful that she wouldn't ever have had anything to do 
with him if she hadn't been forced, and with that realization came a 
curious shyness, almost embarrassment at what his boss was having him 
do.

Laura smiled down at him, and saw the doubt clear from his eyes. They 
understood each other now, and Laura knew that she would emerge from 
this evening unscathed. She turned again to look at the spectators, saw 
that they had not stopped their fondling, but were still looking 
eagerly toward her as she straddled Jackson's heavily breathing chest. 
She saw her husband Bill's middle finger inserted deftly into the 
wriggling vagina of Abby Farrington, and quickly turned away.

Then she felt herself lifted off Jackson's chest as he rolled over and 
placed her nakedly susceptible body beneath him, moving her with a 
gentleness that she would not have suspected he possessed. In grateful 
response, she reached up and scratched the broad expanse of the brutish 
giant's back, feeling him move his incredible weight up over her with 
an erotic shiver, until he was straddling her, his hair-covered loins 
directly in front of her suddenly comprehending eyes.

He wanted her to suck him!

God, she didn't know if it was possible, his fully erected rod of male 
flesh was so incredibly massive. And yet Laura knew she had to try, had 
to show all the staring women in this room that she was better, braver, 
and could take more than any of them would ever dare.

Laura slid her fingernails along the small of his back and over the 
valet's muscular buttocks pressing them slightly toward her face, until 
his tremendous cock was only an inch from her lips, and in his 
excitement a single drop of clear translucent liquid seeped from the 
throbbing tip. She removed her hands from his trembling buttocks and 
reached up toward his desperately straining loins.

"Aaaahhh," the man sighed as she took hold of his achingly throbbing 
cock with both her hands, her touch light, yet firm. The crowd moaned 
their approval in unison, instantly excited by the prospect of watching 
this innocent housewife sucking the giant man hovering over her face.

Bill tried to rise from where he was sitting, but Abby stopped him, 
again pulling his hand to her steaming loins, and thrusting his fingers 
up into the soft wet folds of her burning vagina.

Laura pulled her hands toward her mouth, still stroking the pulsating 
cock gently back and forth. She bent her head slightly forward and her 
tongue darted out at the single clear drop on the glans-eye, licking it 
lasciviously back into her eager mouth. She closed her full lips and 
swallowed the sweet droplet, rolling her head to the side at the same 
time and looking at Abby.

Laura didn't know why Abby was trying to humiliate her, but knew that 
she had failed anyway. As she swallowed the single savory droplet of 
Jackson's sweet semen, she saw Abby's face cloud over with the look of 
a woman who was defeated.

Laura swirled her tongue around her soft lips, moistening them for all 
to see, and then turned her head back to the pleading cock she held 
between her cupped hands. Another shining droplet appeared, and she 
opened her now moist lips and pulled him closer to her, closing her 
lips wetly over half of the huge white hot head.

"Oooohhh," the gargantuan valet moaned as she gently began to suck at 
him. Laura's mouth was already almost opened to its fullest extent and 
she didn't know if she could get even the bulbous head of his bull-
sized cock inside. But she stretched her jaws even wider and pulled him 
gently until, with a sudden grunt of straining effort, she swallowed 
the whole of his sensitive cock-head into her buttery soft mouth.

A gasp came from the women who watched. None would have attempted it, 
though they would have wanted to. Laura relaxed her jaw for a minute, 
playing with the tip of the impaling organ that filled her warm moist 
mouth. Her sensitive tongue licked small circles on the broad underside 
of his sensitive glans, sending fiery needles of electric sensation up 
his back to his imprisoned brain. No woman had ever given him this kind 
of erotic treatment voluntarily, and it was driving him almost insane!

He closed his eyes almost trance-like as she started to suck harder and 
pull more of his swollen cock into her desperately straining mouth. 
Laura knew that she could not take much more, but her sudden hunger was 
becoming insatiable, and, she savored the moisture rising in him and 
sucked as though her life depended on it. Not even half the massive 
cock had fit into her mouth, when she realized it was impossible to 
take anymore.

Laura slid her impaled head back and forth as best she could, hearing 
Jackson moan each time she did. She wanted to swallow all of the 
tremendous cock, to show them all, but knew it was no use. She was 
already well aware of the growing erotic sensations between her own 
naked thighs, that were being fanned out of control by the lewd feeling 
of his monstrous cock filling her oral cavity, and the gentle caressing 
of his sperm-laden balls as they brushed teasingly across her nakedly 
exposed breasts.

"Eat her," she heard someone whisper from the crowd. Jackson recognized 
the voice and knew that he must obey. Mr. Lessing would punish him if 
he did not obey; though it took all his will and strength to pull away 
from the warmly moist shelter of Laura's mouth, he knew he must. He had 
no choice.

Laura slackened her jaws when she felt the big man pull himself away 
from her, turning her head to see the panting crowd at their side. They 
had, without exception, put down their drinks, and some were now 
watching as they crouched down on all fours, their mouths hanging open 
obscenely, waiting for the next move in this parody of passion. Abby 
had dropped to her knees in front of Bill and Laura saw her eyes 
looking sideways at her as she sucked hungrily at his swollen cock. He 
was leaning back on both hands, supported by his trembling arms, as he 
excitedly watched Jackson's pulsating penis slowly pull away from his 
wife's tightly ovalled lips.

"Oooohhh, Jackson!" she cried out as she felt his smooth tongue part 
the golden pubic hair that sparsely covered the soft pink lips of her 
exposed cunt. Her words even further excited the spectators, as they 
realized that she was now completely at his mercy, totally under his 
power, and that she was enjoying it! They watched as Jackson used his 
large fingers to hold the soft lips of her quivering cunt apart, 
pulling his head back a few inches to focus his eyes on the sweet 
loveliness he was about to invade. It looked so clean, so pure, and the 
intoxicating smell was sweet, like the smell of fresh rain in a forest. 
He had never experienced anything so clean, so innocent, so eager to 
please him ... and now he would please her, he reasoned in dim-witted 
gratitude.

His tongue darted lewdly out at Laura's already swollen clitoris, erect 
and throbbing with the desire to be kissed. He pursed his lips and 
planted an almost affectionate kiss on the tiny pulsating bud, groaning 
in child-like reverence as he did so. The nakedly aroused women around 
the stage sighed as they watched, their own jealous loins now burning 
with desire for the brute, and Laura moaned quietly and smiled at his 
gentleness as she waited with bated breath for the next tingling touch.

"Oooooohhhh," she moaned ecstatically as he licked slowly along the 
brightly exposed crevice that glistened with her own warmly lubricating 
moisture, not feeling at all guilty for the pleasurable sensation she 
was giving voice to.

She rolled her head from side to side slowly in rhythm with the probing 
tongue that prodded her to greater and greater heights of ecstasy, 
finding its way to the intimately soft flesh of her inner cunt and 
darting quickly inside. She felt herself jerk slightly toward him, and 
his fingers held the soft moons of her yielding buttocks apart while he 
toyed with her rubbery puckered anus, sending electric thrills of 
immediate arousal to further inflame her desperately pleading hunger. 
She could feel his tongue searching the moistly flowing opening of her 
vagina, playing with the smooth pink flesh at her most secret entrance. 
It hardened slightly and probed further up into her darkly pleading 
passage, curling to the very depths of her sexual being. Her eyes 
blinked furiously, causing weird shadows to dot the ceiling, and her 
desire suddenly knew no bounds. God, if he didn't fuck her soon she was 
going to explode from the sudden heat of her obscene passion. Nothing 
existed for her any more except the wild sensations that were flooding 
out of her freely flowing vaginal canal, inundating Jackson's 
desperately sucking mouth in a furious deluge.

"Fuck me, Jackson! Please I beg you. Fuck me now, split me, but please, 
FUCK ME!" Her begging screams shocked the whole room. None of the 
people were ready for it. The sudden outburst was like an order for all 
the couples beside the stage to fall upon one another with the same 
abandon that Laura was experiencing; and they did so, turning on each 
other almost as if choreographed to do so, the men thrusting their 
lust-hardened rods of hungry flesh almost violently up into their 
desperate partners of the moment. Even Bill's attention was torn from 
the stage as he succumbed to his irrevocable need to release the pent-
up force of his lust into the undulating cunt of the voracious Abby 
Farrington.

Jackson in his wild excitement crawled up and kneeled between Laura's 
widely splayed legs, poising the head of his blood-engorged cock at the 
throbbing entrance to her wetly trembling cunt. Laura relaxed her 
aching loins as best she could, hoping that his initial thrust would 
not hurt too much, tears of sexual tension filling her eyes and 
streaming down her cheeks as he touched the hotly pulsating head of his 
angry cock against the tight pink opening and pushed slightly.

"Ugghhh, God!" Laura moaned, as he ground his way gently up inside her. 
The pain was not as bad as she had expected. He was being as careful as 
he could until his uncontrollably throbbing cock was buried halfway 
into her fully aroused cunt. Then, with a single impatient thrust which 
he could hold back no longer, he drove himself the rest of the way up 
into her.

"Aaarrrggghhh!" she screamed insanely. "Oh, God it hurts!" as she felt 
his sperm-filled balls slam heavily into the helpless softness of her 
upturned buttocks.

She sobbed as he started to stroke into her with long smooth, piston-
like movements, but knew at the same time that the worst was over now 
that his battering cock had stretched her tightly constricted cunt to 
accommodate his unbelievable immensity. The tremendous pain turned to a 
sudden all consuming pleasure, as her well lubricated passage swallowed 
the whole of his blistering cock and digested its ecstasy-giving 
hardness into erotic sensations that threatened to explode inside her 
ravaged belly. The fit was tight, but her flowing sexual moisture made 
it feel as though his jerking cock was slicing through hot melted 
butter as it slid lasciviously in and out between her splayed-open 
thighs.

Jackson knew he couldn't control himself much longer, couldn't keep 
from filling this fragile young girl beneath him with all the force of 
his long-idle testicles. It had been so long since he'd had a girl ... 
so long. He could already hear couples in the audience who were 
groaning out their orgasms, and that lewd thought was enough to set off 
the incredible explosion from deep in his balloon-like balls.

"Uuuuggghhhnn," he cried, trying to stifle a scream, and his wildly 
ejaculating sperm burst in Laura's writhing cunt like an erupting 
geyser, spewing into and filling the whole of her tremendous belly 
until she thought surely she would burst from the rapidly building 
pressure. But the milky thick liquid gushing from his desperately 
jerking penis into her receptive vagina only drove her to greater and 
greater heights, her sweat-soaked legs kicking out and quivering 
helplessly in the air on either side of his pounding hips.

The lewdly hungry tension deep inside her sperm-filled vagina grew and 
grew and she knew she was only seconds away ... seconds ... seconds ... 
away from the mind-shattering release of her own lust. She kicked out 
viciously against Jackson's pounding loins, the concussion of their 
writhing bodies quickly setting off the detonator of her own orgasmic 
explosion.

"I'm cumming, oh God, fuck harder, I'm cuuummmiing! Give it to me, fuck 
me! Ram it to me till I die! Aaaaaeee! Oooooh!" Her head rolled 
helplessly from side to side, the long blonde strands of her thrashing 
hair whipping into the cushions like a snapping bull whip, her eyes 
bulging wide as though they were straining to leap from their sockets. 
On and on it went, until Laura thought she would go mad: Jackson's 
still spewing cock igniting wracking spasms deep within her, destroying 
her, filling her, making her think that he would drown her with his 
copiously flowing seed.

And then as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The blubbering 
Jackson collapsed in a helpless heap on top of her, and her own arms 
and legs fell limply out on the still shaking cushions beneath them. 
They lay still for a moment not even able to move, their breathing 
coming in short, recuperative gasps. And then a command from the side 
of the bed from a voice that she only dimly recognized:

"Get up, Jackson. My turn to plow this little beauty now."

And she felt the large hulking weight of the man who had given her so 
much pleasure lift obediently from her, his huge, log-like cock 
slipping from her sperm filled vagina with a slight sucking noise ...

And then another weight pressing her legs wide apart and falling 
heavily down on her satiated body ... a weight that she recognized 
belonged to Peter Lessing.

But Laura didn't care. She didn't care anymore who took her that 
evening. Even if she had known what the rest of the night would be 
like, how she would be used as a receptacle for the perverted lust of 
almost every man who had come to the party ... even then she would not 
have cared.

Because she was free now, free from the awful curse that had loomed 
over her head these past weeks, free of the fear that curse had brought 
with it! Each man that came to her would be just one step closer to the 
next morning, when she would wake with her own husband by her side, 
ready to begin again, ready to face the world and the often perverted 
people who made it up, ready to hold her head up proudly and say:

There is nothing more you can do to me! l am free! I have won! And now 
my life is my own!!


The End
