Peter Jenkins

The reluctant neighbor

CHAPTER ONE

Marily lay back on the rumpled bed as though she were a broken rag doll. Her legs were spread obscenely apart, one knee slightly bent, her breast jutting out from her chest, and one arm limp across her sperm-filled stomach. She was watching her next door neighbor, the man who had just raped her putting his clothes on. She looked at him from the depth of her dark brown eyes, keeping him in focus, not wanting to see what she was looking at, but staring, not missing one movement that he made. Masculine was the only word that came to her mind. It almost amused her that he would put on his shirt before he did his under-drawers, that his now limp penis hung down beyond the tails of his shorts. Her own husband would never dress in such a disorganized manner.

Peter buttoned his shirt carefully, then knotted his tie, then reached to the floor for his jock shorts. He glanced at the voluptuous young woman laying on the bed, sprawled, her thighs still open and wet, and wanted to go back to her, to burn and scald her as he had done moments before. But, he felt as though she were staring a hole through him, looking at him but seeing what he could only guess at. He put one leg then the other through the shorts, then pulled them up around his waist. He reached inside, adjusted his still half erect prick so that it rode where it should, then took up his trousers and put them on, buttoned the buttons, then cinched up his belt. He took his coat from the chair and rammed his arms through it, then sat on the same chair and put on his shoes and socks. Then he stood and faced her. "Look," he hesitated, talking down to her on the bed from his six feet two inch height, "You were good. And, I'll be back again. I know you enjoyed it even if I did have to force you a little at first."

He leaned slightly forward, wanting to shake the eerie feeling that she gave him, wishing that she would say one word, any word, so that he could be sure that she was hearing what he said. She didn't and her eyes remained as void as they had been when he began speaking. "I'll have to go now. I'll see you tomorrow. And just remember that I came here by your invitation. I don't think you'll tell old Fred anyway. And I don't think he'd care one way or the other. So, see you later." He turned from her, left the bedroom, walked down the hall, then went through the front door, banging it arrogantly shut behind him. Marily heard his tread on the hall floor, then the closing of the door, then silence. She found herself wishing he would have, at least, gone out the back way so the other neighbors wouldn't have seen him leaving… but, oh what the hell. What did it all matter anyway? She lay as she was, wondering why she was so cold, so unrelated to what had happened, then was grateful for the pain that reminded her that she had been raped, used, like a whore by her neighbor, a neighbor she had just met. She forced herself to go over all the events that led up to that sudden happening one hour ago.

When, she wondered, had he first noticed her. In the garden? Through the window? Why hadn't he spoke to her before today, or at least to Fred? It didn't make sense. She didn't know him, except that his name was Peter Aiken and that his wife was a pathetic little thing, involved in community projects, held an office in the parent teacher association where their daughter attended school in the second grade, and puttered around the garden, occasionally holding long monologues with herself while talking to Marily, who knew that she wasn't supposed to listen, to answer, just be a form for the woman to talk at. But she never saw him, or only rarely, going from his car to the house or from his house to his car.

When had he noticed her?

Not that it really mattered, she told herself. He obviously had. Not only had he noticed her, but apparently he had been planning to use her as he had just done, for some time. Her thoughts went back to the morning, to the beginning of her day. She had tumbled from her bed when the alarm had made its first maddening sound, and looked over to Fred's bed. He had been snoring softly, curled into the ball shape that he preferred for sleeping, and then had gone to the bathroom, had shaken Fred awake ever so gently, then kissed him on the forehead, then had gone to the kitchen and started the coffee, made the orange juice, put on the bread and butter and toaster on the table, then had walked outside to smoke a cigarette. She grimaced with the thought of smoking in the garden. Fred did not smoke, could not stand the smell of smoke in the house. Maybe, her mind warned, she had been seen by Peter then, in the garden, early in the morning, blowing her lonely clouds of smoke. But, it had to be before today, she thought. He didn't seem the type to do things so suddenly without some kind of previous plan.

Then, what had she done. She tried to recall, her mind telling her that she had done what she had done every morning or what seemed like millions of years. She had gone back into the house as soon as she had finished her cigarette, knowing that Fred would be stepping out of the shower, then he would be in the kitchen within minutes. She had gone to the small bathroom and brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth with mouthwash to get rid of the odor of cigarette smoke. Then she had returned to the table, took her place, put two pieces of toast in the toaster, and looked as Fred came through the door, dressed for work, ready for his breakfast.

With Fred gone she had cleared the table, put the few dishes in the dishwasher with the ones from the evening meal, set the dial to wash, then had gone to the garden again to smoke. Then she remembered. She had had a strange feeling in the garden, as though there were another presence there other than her own. Yes! Exactly! She could remember it now, the goose bumps on her flesh, the feeling that someone was watching her every moment, that behind a bush someone waited, breathed and watched her. But it had only been a fleeting emotion, she reminded herself. But, her mind said a significant one. Perhaps that was the first warning sign of the danger that was to burst upon her later. Later she had decided to work in the garden, to trim up a hedge, to cut a few branches off a rose bush, perhaps to rid herself of the unreasonable fear or fright that she had felt there. She did so. She had become so involved in her work that the time had slipped by, unheeded, until she grew warm. She covered her eyes with her hand and looked up at the sun. It was almost mid-way in the sky. She had laughed to herself. She had been in the garden much longer than she thought. She went into the kitchen, washed her hands, then made herself a sandwich and a glass of tea, put them on a tray and returned to the garden, she had been there only a moment when she had been interrupted by Peter Aiken's sudden presence. She had felt grateful for the interruption, she remembered. She had smiled at him, then ran a hand over her hair, thinking that she must be a mess since she hadn't looked in the mirror since just after getting out of bed.

"Hello. I'm Peter Aiken. From next door." He said, then paused, waiting for her recognition of him. "Yes, I know. I'm Marily Spencer. I know your wife – I mean, we have spoken together here, from one yard to the next." Marily had smiled, then waited for him to continue.

"I just came over to introduce myself actually. I came home for lunch, which I do occasionally, and found a note from my wife. She had to go to a meeting she had forgotten about. Anyway I saw you here and I thought…" He stopped talking, leaving the thought uncompleted so that it had to turn into an invitation from her.

"Please. Sit down. Would you like a sandwich? I haven't much to offer but…" Marily had said, turning sideways in her chair and watching his progress to a chair.

"No, you don't have to bother. I'm not really hungry, actually. I get tired of drinking lunch and so once in awhile I come home and eat." He smiled, revealing the most perfect white teeth she had seen in a long time.

"I'm afraid I can't offer you a drink. My husband, Fred, doesn't drink… so we don't keep it in the house." Marily finished lamely.

"I don't want a drink, thanks, but don't apologize. Somehow I knew that your husband didn't drink." His tone of voice had changed, a smugness creeping in that angered Marily.

"And how did you know that?" She had asked, not kindly.

"He looks too healthy, actually. He has that glowing, youthful flesh that one associates with non-drinkers." He laughed easily.

Marily had relaxed, had suddenly began to enjoy talking to him. She had had to admit to herself that he was a very handsome man, well-built and he seemed so sure of himself. And it was a pleasant break in her otherwise dull day.

"You don't have children?" He wanted to know. Marily felt that he probably knew the answer to that one, too. She had felt the impulse to tell him that Fred didn't want children now, maybe in a year or so, after he had fully adjusted to his marriage to her and his new job. But she didn't. She had merely said, "No. Not yet. We've only been married two years and… no. We don't have children."

"Habit is hard to break, I guess. I seem to be terribly thirsty. For water," he smiled, standing. Marily had not wanted him to leave. She had felt that he had no intention of it anyway, but he did stand and somehow gave the impression that he would… or that… what? She asked herself. It didn't matter.

It was then that she realized that the pain was lessening, that her vagina was still throbbing, but the pain had gone somewhat and the more pleasurable sensation she had known a few moments before was slowly returning. She straightened her legs, pressed them together and then continued to think over the day.

"I have water. Come in and I'll make you a sandwich and a glass of tea. One must eat, you know, to keep a healthy, youthful complexion like Fred." She had laughed at her own joke and preceded him into the house.

Once inside the door she had remembered how she must look and for some strange reason she wanted to look better for this almost complete stranger. She asked him to sit, then excused herself and had gone through the bedroom, to the bathroom, and run a comb through her hair, deftly washed her face, straightened her blouse and returned to the kitchen.

It was then that the whole sordid… sordid? Well, whatever kind of nightmare it had been, had begun.

Peter had stood up when she entered the kitchen, had moved toward her without a word and had taken her in his arms. Why had she been so willing? she wondered. Had she expected him to do that? Thinking back, she rationalized that she had not had one thought about it, one way or the other. It had simply happened and she had not objected, but she had not responded either… unless… the fact she had not screamed out and fought with all her strength against his lewd advances, could be considered a response.

She could feel his arms about her, much more powerful than those of Fred, much more sure of what he was doing and more knowledgeable about how to go about it. He had kissed her gently, his lips on hers, then his tongue had played about her lips, then over them and into her mouth. She had tried to push him away, but he had a firm hold on her. She relaxed, took his tongue in her mouth and felt a delicious sensation that Fred had never given her reverberating up and down her spine. Then her anger had spilled over, whether at her sudden submission to his probing tongue or at him she didn't know, and she had tried to push him away.

"Relax, baby. I know that husband of yours isn't enough for a little minx like you," he had whispered, directly into her ear, then slipped his mouth wetly down to her neck.

She had tried to break his hold on her, had not wanted to hear anything against Fred from this near stranger. She could not! But, he had lifted her as though she had no weight at all, and carried her into the bedroom. Why hadn't she cried out? she wondered, the answer to her question immediately there: who would have heard her? No one! She had fought him with her fists, but it was no use. He had been too strong! Yes, that was it! That was the excuse she had been searching for: he was too strong!

He had placed her on the bed and then himself on top of her, had found her mouth with his before her full weight had sunk down into the mattress. He had almost suffocated her, his large tongue in her mouth, probing, his teeth biting and hurting her lips. "No!" she had cried out to the void, the space of the bedroom. "Please. No!" But it had been useless. He had managed to undress her and himself almost without her knowledge. Suddenly she had been stripped naked and was lying on the bed by herself, and he was up, throwing his clothes desperately over the chair. She had tried to escape, to get off the bed, but he had leaped onto it, pinning her under him. He had put her arms over her head, had fought with his head to turn hers and put his mouth onto her again, then he had himself slightly, and twisting and turning his stomach, had touched her sensitive flesh with his hardness, which had felt like steel – hot metal – laying on her stomach. He had continued to kiss her, to bite her lips, then had removed his mouth from hers, and began to suck her breasts. She had struggled, but to no avail.

The hopelessness of her situation had overwhelmed her. There was no one to call to, no instrument at her command that she could use to protect herself with. She tried to get her arms free of his, hoping to scratch and tear his arrogant face, but he held her firmly, arms up over her head and teased her ripe, full breasts, stopping only long enough to say, "God-damned, what a pair you have!" then his mouth had become busy again, biting into her flesh, then sucking her nipples into hardness then back to her mouth. She couldn't remember when the excitement had hit her, but laying now with the residing sensation in her vagina, she was sure it had been later even if the sensation of him kissing her had almost been pleasant, once she had adjusted her mind to the fact that it was really happening to her.

When his mouth had not covered hers she had pleaded, had implored him to stop. But her every word seemed only to spur him on. He had forced her legs apart with his muscular thighs and then shoved the head of his hardness into the softness between her open, defenseless legs, causing her to scream. He had immediately covered his mouth with hers, filled it with his tongue, then ground his hardened penis slowly into her resisting vagina. She felt as though he were killing her, as though he were pushing all the way through the center of her and impaling her with a spear to the mattress beneath her buttocks. Never had her own husband hurt that much, even on the night of their wedding, or any other night. But, then, never had she felt her husband so hard or excited by the feel of her body.

Peter had thrust himself inside her, all of him, splitting her and hurting her because she hadn't really been ready at that moment. The pain seared her insides and seemed to work outward to the top layer of her soft sensitive skin. She moaned, tried to move her hips back to rid herself of him, but it was hopeless. He shoved on into her, ground himself against her, against her words of pleading until suddenly she had felt the soft sacs of his testicles pressing hard against the sensitive hole of her anus.

Almost in a flash the pain had turned to pleasure for Marily. She had felt the hardness and roughness of him with every cell in her vagina, then there it was, the feeling that she had never had before, the desire that had never been opened up inside her, began begging for fulfillment. She knew now that he had sensed that, that where only a moment before she had been crying with pain, her legs had suddenly responded with a will of their own and had snaked desperately around his back, the small of it, and that they were pressing him into her. He released her hands and even though she had wanted to claw at his face only a few minutes before, she now wanted to, and did, use her hands behind his head to press it down onto her mouth and her neck…

With her response, Peter had slowly begun fucking in and out of her, causing to build within her the fires, the desperate need of fulfillment that she had never before experienced. She began to move with him to match her rhythm to his, without wanting to, hating herself for her weakness, hating him because he was raping her, causing her to be unfaithful, against her will, until a dam broke within her and she tightened her hold on him, pulled him to her with all her might. And she had broken her silence.

"Ooooh God!" she remembered murmuring with disbelief up into his open mouth. "I-It's so deep inside me."

He had hooked her legs in his arms and had bent them back so far that her knees were even with her breasts, then moved his cock out of her vagina, almost all the way, with only the head of it inside the soft, clasping lips, then plunged back, causing her to gasp with the force of his passion, the pleasurable pain of him sending fire all through her body. He had plunged, ground against her, kissing and biting with his mouth, until she felt that she could no longer stand it, until she began to expand inside, to break and spill over with the greatest passion that she had ever known. She had clung to him, pressing her body to his, rising off the bed when he moved out of her, had caught him deep inside her cunt and waves of fire and relief had broken deep within her, then, exhausted, amazed at herself and the secrets that this total stranger had opened within her, lay unmoving but open wide for him while he increased his jabbing and plunging. He had moved faster and faster, his breath had come in gasps, then with a long and low moan he had ground within her, spewed his hot wetness inside her, then with piston-like movements had emptied all the remainder of his hot, white sperm deep down into the hidden recess of her satiated belly. Then dropped on top of her, his cock still in her, throbbing out the last dying sensations of his orgasm against the smooth, flooded walls of her vagina.

His prick had started to soften, then had been withdrawn from her leaving a thin trail of their warm secretions lying wetly across her thigh. He had rolled off her, then lay alongside her and tried to put his arm over her. Why, she didn't remember but she had knocked it away in a too late gesture of defiance. She had been fucked, and fucked good right in her own husband's bed, so why hadn't she just admitted it to herself instead of trying to soothe her conscience with a hypocritical act like that. He had taken a deep breath, then got off the bed and began dressing. "Look," he had said and she hadn't really listened to the rest.

Marily didn't know how long she had been laying as he had left her, nude, on the bed. She heard the front door open. She knew it was Fred, home from his day's work. She did not move except to pull a sheet over her nakedness knowing instinctively that he wouldn't approve of her like this.

"Marily?" Fred called, faintly, from the interior of the house. She did not answer. She hadn't thought of him since that morning, not at all since the rape upon her body. She couldn't think of anything to say to him now, even to answer his summons, so she said nothing. Shortly he entered the bedroom, looked at her on the bed, then, "Are you all right? Didn't you hear me call you?" Her answer was simple: "Yes."

He removed his hat, brushed it off on his coat sleeve, went to the closet, slid the door open, put his hat on the shelf from the exact position he had taken it from that morning, removed a hanger from the closet for his coat, then removed his coat, arranged it on the hanger, then brushed it before putting it in the closet. He then removed his shirt, folded it neatly, and put it in the dirty clothes hamper in the hall. He returned to the bedroom, the closet, took another hanger, of a different shape than the one he had used for his jacket, and then removed his trousers, made sure that the creases were aligned, then removed the hanger under them. He put that hanger in the closet also.

He then turned, sat in a chair and removed his shoes, then his socks. He took his socks to the same hamper into which his shirt had gone, then returned to the bedroom. He stood over the bed, dressed in his undershirt and briefs, and looked at Marily.

"Why are you in bed? In the middle of the afternoon? You've never done this before." He didn't wait for an answer, since she simply looked at him, but went instead to the other closet, opened it, then turned back to her with a startled look. "Where are my clothes?" he demanded.

"I didn't put them out today. Find the ones you wore yesterday," Marily said, trying not to sound angry.

"I can't stand the same clothes two days in a row. You know that. Why are you in bed?" He turned to look at her again. "You wouldn't believe it, Fred," Marily said, then turned onto her side, away from him so that she would not have to look at him nor he at her.

"Well, if you're ill all you have to do is say so. I mean I come home after working all day and find you in bed and what am I supposed to think. Then, you haven't done anything, apparently, all day. My clothes aren't even ready. Do you plan to make dinner or do you intend to ruin our whole daily routine?" He finished with an injured tone to his voice.

Marily wanted to hurt him, suddenly, just for the hell of it. She felt like crying not from her own debasing experience with their neighbor, but for hers and Fred's hopeless situation, which, she had to admit, had only become hopeless within the period of the last two hours. She turned back over in bed, looking at him and said, "Fred, let's make love."

"You must have a fever, Marily. You mean now, this minute, I presume? This is only Tuesday. We do that on Thursday night, and not in the middle of the afternoon. I would appreciate it very much if you would get up, after I have found some clothes for myself, and prepare dinner. I don't care to eat after seven o'clock, as you very well know." He was indignant. He rummaged around, knocked hangers about the closet, then finally pulled on a pair of trousers, doffed a sweater, then carried his sneakers out of the room.

Marily sighed, then sat up in bed. She felt dizzy. She stood, after a couple of minutes, and the waves of dizziness assaulted her again. The coldness of the air, on her nipples, her bare buttocks, jarred her somewhat and she laughed. She started, on impulse, to call Fred into the bedroom, then changed her mind. He had never, she reflected, seen her nude so she might just jolt him into a heart attack. But, she reflected, biting her under-lip, she had never seen him totally nude either. She went to the bathroom, put a shower cap over her head, turned the faucet to hot, then adjusted the cold water until she got the mixture she wanted, then stepped into the shower. Hell, she thought, once her body was covered with soap and her hands sliding comfortingly over its slippery surface, I ought to be thankful for being raped, and I ought to have a husband who would be so wounded that he would kill the man that did it. But, she almost laughed to herself, I'm not and I don't.

She rinsed off the soap, then stepped out of the shower, and dried herself vigorously. She felt that she had some of her purity restored, just by getting the outside of herself clean. She returned to the bedroom and dressed. She was still experiencing a throbbing in her vagina, deep down, next to the center of her being.

She passed through the living room with hardly a glance at Fred. He was sitting in his chair, reading the newspaper, waiting – she knew – for her to prepare his glass of vegetable juice. She did so, then returned to him, placed it on the table next to his chair and stood there, looking at he top of his head. He nervously rustled the paper.

"What would you like for dinner, Fred?" she asked.

He acted as though he had been slapped. His head flew back, the paper was smashed on his lap and he looked at her with a startled expression. "Marily, I must say I don't understand you today. This is Tuesday. We will have what we have every Tuesday. I see no reason to change our menus just because you choose to sleep all day, do you?"

"We can't. I didn't do shopping today." She felt like hitting him. He had no idea what had happened to her, didn't even seem to care if anything had. She had never realized what a drag their very existence had become.

"Didn't go shopping today? Then we have nothing to eat, do we? I mean since we only eat fresh vegetables and fresh fruit, we must be out of luck," he glared at her.

"You only eat fresh fruits and vegetables. I don't really care that much. I'd like to go out to dinner. I'd like to have a large steak and drink before dinner, too. Wouldn't you?" She asked, knowing the answer before she put the question.

"I would not. I don't care to ruin the organic whole of me even if you do seem bent on self-destruction. Not for a minute. But, we could go to the living health store and dine since there is nothing here to eat. That is, if you wish. Is it too late to go shopping now?" He wanted to know.

"Perhaps not. I think the store stays open until nine, but I don't care to go to the store. Not today." She sat down in a chair opposite his.

He peered at her, then turned his head away and seemed to look at the wall. Then he turned back to her abruptly and in a slightly lower voice than shout, "Marily, I demand to know what's troubling you. I am your husband, you know, and I want to know. I come home and you're in bed and then you asked me if I wanted to make love on a Tuesday afternoon and you've done nothing by way of preparing dinner and… you don't look right. Now, what is the trouble?" He sat forward in his chair and eyed her suspiciously.

"Fred, are you satisfied with our sex life?" She asked, not realizing that she was going to say what she said before it was there between them.

Fred jumped from his chair, paced the floor, then with his back to her, said: "I am. We are married and we have what some people would call a normal sex life, I believe. At the least the normal people would call it such. You are not?" He questioned the wall.

"I don't know. I suppose so. I just… It was a stupid question. Forget it." She, too, stood and turned toward the kitchen.

"Marily," he said, softly, still to the wall, "If you'd really like to go out to dinner, we can, I suppose. I shouldn't try to stick too close to a schedule, I guess. It's easy for me but I know it gets on your nerves. Let's. Where would you like to go?"

"For a drink and a steak," she said, still facing away from him. "Perhaps to the Red Ox."

"Very well," he agreed, "But the money will have to come out of the household budget. I'll just have a salad so that should save some."

Marily turned and went to the bedroom. She dressed hurriedly, feeling that she had won a victory over him, wondering why she felt so depressed. She shook off the feeling, entered the bathroom, then called to him so that he could dress while she was in the bathroom making up her face.

Thirty minutes later they left the house and got into the car. Fred was permitting the car to warm up, even though he had been driving it only an hour or so before, when Peter drove into his own drive way. He jumped out of the car, waved a hand gaily in their general direction as though nothing at all had happened then entered his house. Marily felt her face grow warm, her whole body trembled. Before she could examine her feeling, Fred interrupted.

"He's quite a nice looking man, I hear that he is a very good attorney, also. I don't know why he would choose someone like her for a wife, she can't possibly help him get ahead." Fred mused, steering the car onto the street.

His wife didn't bother to answer. She wished that she could sort out her own feeling toward her attacker. Her sensation when she saw him was not an unpleasant one, but he had, damn him, that very afternoon, assaulted and raped her. She should hate him, she told herself, but she didn't. Instead she wondered if he would come back as he had promised.

God, what would she do if he did? Would she fight and scream to protect her honor with a greater intensity than she had this afternoon? Or would she… Yes, she mused to herself at the broken thought… or would she? Perhaps, the slight trembling and gnawing sensation she had felt in her loins when he had waved at them a moment ago had given her the answer. But now… now wasn't the moment to think about it… that would all come in due time…

CHAPTER TWO

Marily enjoyed the dinner. She had consumed two drinks, much to Fred's consternation, then had eaten a delicious steak, blood rare. She felt great. She had admonished herself for looking at the men in the room, feeling each time she looked thoroughly at one of them (sitting alone at the bar, with other women, with men friends) the sensations that she had had earlier in the afternoon. She was just as pleased to leave the restaurant as she had been to arrive there.

Once home Marily tried to shake the feeling of need and desire that bunched up inside her demanding an outlet. She couldn't. While Fred had been showering for bed, she had wandered out to the patio, had looked in the direction of Peter's house, had tried to figure which bedroom might be his. Then she remembered his wife, she frowned and, in her own mind, agreed with her husband: how could he live with such a silly woman? She returned to the house, went to the bathroom, stopped in the bedroom and stifled a giggle when she realized that Fred was doing his deep breathing exercises, as he did every night, before going to sleep. She stripped in the bathroom, stood straight and looked at herself in the mirror. She liked what she saw. She was tall, five feet eight, she had nice large breasts that had not the slightest trace of a sag. She ran her hands over her breasts, lifted them so that the nipples, pink and soft, pointed straight into the mirror, then let them drop, ran her hands from her chest out over her breasts, to the end of the nipple, then down, under and across her stomach, marveled at the smoothness of it, then along the outside of her thighs. She stopped, shook herself, a need that had never been there before today rushing through her, and slipped her black negligee over her head. She gave her hair a couple of quick strokes, then returned to the bedroom. She stopped just inside the door and looked at Fred. She couldn't tell whether or not he was asleep because he often, as he explained, went to sleep in stages. She walked softly to his bed, circling her own, and lay down alongside him. He gave no indication that he was awake, that he knew she was there.

She carefully put her hand under the cover, let it rest gently on his stomach. He still made no move to indicate that he was aware of her presence. She started to massage his stomach, moving her hand across it back and in a circular motion and suddenly he sprang up to a sitting position, reached out, turned on the lamp. Marily was startled.

"Marily, what are you doing over here in my bed?" He wanted to know, scowling at her.

"I came to… I want you tonight, Fred." She leveled her large, hungry stare at him.

"This is Tuesday night! I just don't understand you, Marily. I broke up the entire schedule for the day and now you want to take it into the night, ruining our whole weeks' plans. I just don't understand." He was perplexed beyond doubt. "Don't try to understand. Let's just make love, Fred." She moved to him, put a hand behind his back. Fred sighed, turned out the light, then crawled on top of her. He lifted her negligee, took his penis out through the opening of his pajamas, then eased himself down to her so that his soft, fleshy prick was pressed against her warm, open vaginal slit. She moved slightly, put her hand on his back. He shook it off. She lay still, fear somehow almost paralyzing her that she would go crazy and give all that happened away and then he moved against her. She felt him begin to harden, and she wanted to kiss him, to be kissed, to have his tongue inside her mouth just as Peter's had been, but she dared not. She felt him enter her, easily, then push himself all the way in, then move in and out of her. She felt a rush of memories from the afternoon and before she realized what she was doing her legs went around his back, her arms circled his neck. He withdrew immediately. He was shocked, she knew.

"What are you trying to do?" he demanded of her, raised above her on his arms. "If you want me to make love to you, then lie still."

Marily did. She lay perfectly still, all desire gone, while he fucked in and out of her, not really touching her feelings again. She lay under him almost hating him, repulsion for his selfishness angering her. She knew that he was about to cum, not because he grabbed her and clung to her and pounded into her but simply because his breathing increased and his strokes became minutely faster. He withdrew from her almost as soon as his semen had flooded into her and got off the bed and went directly to the bathroom.

Marily lay as she was, heard the shower running, and laughed bitterly to herself. She knew that he was washing her dirt off himself. When she heard the shower stop she got up, went to her own bed. She feigned sleep when he re-entered the bedroom. She heard the springs give as he got into his bed, then the sounds of breathing (deep) that he made, then shortly a soft snore. For no reason at all tears sprung to her eyes.

She cried silently.

As her tears of frustration trickled slowly down her cheeks she began to consciously, for the first time to analyze her life, to look back over it, examine it, hoping to find an answer for her immediate situation.

Her whole life had been spent in study, one school after the other, until graduation from college. She had developed, she thought, as all the other girls had and a darned site better than ninety percent of them. She was an only child, her parents did not believe in a display of affection. She marveled now that she could never remember seeing her parents kiss, really kiss, in front of her. Nor, had she ever seen her mother cry. Now she found that amazing.

She had grown up with Fred, had attended the same grammar school, the same high school, never having taken notice of him, until their third year of college. He had asked her out and she had accepted. She hadn't cared much for dating and was beginning to wonder about herself. She had had a good time with Fred and had ended the summer by announcing her engagement to him. She laughed now, bitterly, about their dates. He had never taken her out 'petting', had never tried to handle her as some of her one shot dates from college had done. She had appreciated that at the time, but now that she reflected upon it, she wondered about it. Why? Why hadn't he tried to make her, just as all the other boys had?

He respected her too much, she decided. That had to be it. After all, he had known her all his life, their parents had known each other, so it stood to reason that he wasn't going to come howling into his own neighborhood and rape his fiancee. No, not Fred.

Even her plans for and the wedding itself were without emotion. She had felt curious at the time about herself, why she wasn't like the other girls squealing and giggling and bragging about their future husband, their families, their potential income, and their love life. No, not her. She and Fred had planned the first five years of their marriage down to the last day months before they were married.

She hadn't felt love for him, not as she supposed that she was meant to feel, but she had wanted to be married to him, to share his life. That, she told herself, she was doing. What little living he did, that is. So she had to admit to herself that she was just as cold and calculating as he was or wasn't depending on how one viewed their situation. She didn't really suppose that he felt any different about her than she did about him.

It seemed ironic to Marily that the first two years of what she had come to call their 'five year plan' had come off rather smoothly. They had lived in the city in a cramped apartment for the first two years. Both of them had worked and saved their money, all of her checks going into the bank for a down payment on their home in suburbia, and, Fred had done well with the firm, had entrenched himself, was on the ladder up. All just as they had planned. In six months he would plant the seed that would bring forth their child nine months after that. They would have another, but only one more, during the next five years, depending on Fred's advancement in the firm. The very coldness of it made her shiver. But, on the other hand, she was somehow upsetting the first five year plan. She almost laughed.

CHAPTER THREE

The following morning Marily went into the garden for her first cigarette of the day, but she stayed under the eyes of the house. She did not venture into the patio, did not inspect the plants, look at the rose buds nor notice the snails that crawled about. She found that she was extremely nervous, that all her instincts had somehow deserted her. She took a deep inhalation of smoke, slowly let it out, then breathed deeply. It did not help. She was still jumpy.

She went back to the kitchen, took her place at the table, put the toast in the toaster, then poured the coffee. Her husband came through the door as she was pouring his coffee. He took his seat across from her, then said, "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. I suppose so. Fred… I," she paused, unable to go on, not knowing what she wanted to say, or how she wanted to say it.

"You're still upset this morning. I don't understand it, Marily. What is it?" He seemed genuinely concerned.

"I don't know. I… I don't want to stay home today. I want to go somewhere, anywhere," she blurted.

"Marily," he said tiredly, "You're free to go anywhere you like but it isn't your day for shopping, not your day for the library, and I don't know where else you would want to go. Why don't you get to know your neighbors? We've been here for two months now and you still don't know anyone to talk to."

She wanted to laugh. She knew one neighbor very, very well, more than he would ever be able to believe, but she couldn't tell him that.

"There must be some clubs in the neighborhood for women. Where they sew or talk or read or something. Isn't there?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Marily, I want to tell you something. I have a surprise. I was going to tell you last night but… I didn't. Old man Callan is sending me to Chicago. I leave Friday and I'll be there until Wednesday of next week! How about that?" He smiled.

"That's wonderful, Fred. Am I going, also?" she looked across the table hopefully at him. Perhaps this would give her a few days away from this place and a chance to collect her scattered thoughts.

"No. As a junior executive, Marily, I'm very lucky to be getting the chance, the opportunity, to represent the company on such a big deal. I couldn't very well ask that they pay your way and your expenses, too." He seemed hurt she wasn't ecstatic over his good luck.

"But what will I do here?" she asked bitterly, almost crying. She wanted to tell him about Peter, almost started to, but she knew that as far as he was concerned the discussion was closed. He wouldn't consider her, not with such an unexpected bit of luck presenting itself. He didn't answer. She supposed that he already had, in a sense, by quizzing her about the clubs in the area. Damn him, if that's all he cared about then maybe he deserved having an unfaithful wife. Maybe he deserved everything he would get, or she would get, she mused wryly. As soon as Fred left for work Marily made a decision. She dressed and went to the store. She purchased a bottle of gin, asked the clerk for a good bottle of vermouth, and a bottle of small olives. Then she went to the grocery store, bought enough meat for sandwiches, then went home. She was nervous but determined.

At 12:20 she looked at the clock in the kitchen and almost cried. She couldn't remember what time he, Peter, had presented himself in the garden yesterday, but she felt certain that it had been before 12:20. She drank a cup of coffee, walked about the living room, then the thought occurred to her that perhaps she should be out in the garden. No. She would never permit him to think – to know – that she was waiting for him, could not ever let him know that she was looking forward to seeing him again. How then, she wondered, was she to explain the pitcher of martinis? The prepared sandwiches? She felt as though she were losing her mind. She went to the kitchen, poured herself a martini and drank it straight down.

At five minutes of one, Marily was drunk. She had consumed three martinis and had cried and had washed her face and had applied make-up and had settled down with another martini. Then she heard her name called, softly, from the door leading to the patio. She sprung up from the chair, weaved slightly, then made herself stand still. She would not, she insisted, show how eager she was. She walked slowly to the door and looked at him, standing there, smiling, waiting for her. That was all it took.

Marily hurriedly opened the door and fell into his waiting arms. She clung to him, found his mouth with hers, and kissed him long and passionately. She felt him lift her off her feet, move back into the kitchen with her. His hands familiarly sought the soft mounds of her buttocks and pulled her toward him, into him. They kissed for what seemed like seconds for Marily but was actually five minutes. She was crying with joy when he lifted her away from him.

"Where's my martini?" He wanted to know, smiling his arrogant smile at her eagerness. But now, with the weight of the martini's lying heavy in her mind and the bitter thought of her husband's maddening disinterest in her welfare still ringing in her ears, his arrogance over his seduction of her didn't seem to matter quite so much. She was using him this time as much as he had used her before and the forbidden thought of committing adultery with another man right in her own husband's bed strangely frightened and yet excited her at the same time. It was going to be a big step in her life to do it voluntarily this way and a gnawing sense of hesitation pervaded her alcohol dazed mind. She knew once it started, there would be no turning back and she would be completely at the mercy of the whims of her body. But… she also knew that even now it was too late. The lewd, but exciting thought of again, this time from desire, of opening her legs to her neighbor's husband, had driven her beyond the point of any resistance to his advances.

She stifled a sniffle, went to the refrigerator and took the pitcher of martinis from it. She poured him one, put an olive in it and watched his hands as he took it from her. He sipped, smacked his lips, widened his eyes, and said: "Perfect."

Between kisses and using his hands on her buttocks and breasts, Peter consumed that martini and asked for another. He drank that rather rapidly in the same manner, then calmly placed the glass on the table next to the couch and said, huskily, as though commanding a prostitute: "Let's go to the bedroom."

"I made some sandwiches," Marily said, softly, hoping that he would take time to eat them now and give her a chance to collect her thoughts. Perhaps even a chance to back away from this horrible thing she was about to do. But, his answer gave her no respite from the decision she had made in anger earlier in the day.

"We can eat those after," he said, lifting her off the couch and guiding her to the bedroom. "Undress me and kiss me," he told her just inside the door, pressing his lips against her nose.

She did as she was told, knowing there was no backing down now. She removed his jacket, then mashed herself against him, probing gently into his mouth with her tongue. Then she removed his tie, and he awarded her with a searing kiss of a longer duration than hers had been. She started to unbutton his shirt but he guided her hands to his trousers. She was nervous and fumbling, but she managed to unbuckle the belt, then the zipper, then she moved his trousers down his leg. She blushed when she remembered his shoes and that they would have to come off before his trousers. She followed as he dropped back in to a chair and dropped to her knees and undid his shoe laces, then removed his shoes, receiving a kiss for each one. Then she dragged his trousers off his leg, started to fold them, but he motioned for them, took them out of her hand and threw them across the stool of her dressing table. He stood, kissed her and pressed his hardening penis into her stomach. She started to unbutton his shirt, but he pushed her hands down to his jock shorts. She blushed again, feeling suddenly more wicked than she ever had in her whole life, and put her hands around the waist band of his shorts and slipped them over his hips. She had to bend to take them off his legs, from under his feet and her eyes locked involuntarily on his mammoth cock, hanging as it had yesterday from under his shirt, straight down, the head of it purple and huge.

"Kiss it," he told her, putting his hand on top of her head. She did, after a slight moment's hesitation. But barely touching it with the soft wetness of her lips. He laughed, pulled her up in his arms and said, "You're innocent. And very, very nice. Take off my shirt."

She was so nervous that she thought she would never get all the buttons undone and the French cuffs gave her a lot of trouble. She made it, however, and slipped his shirt off his back. Then she took the bottom of his undershirt and raised up over his broad shoulders, then over his head, then flung it over her head and fell into him. He took her in his arms, moved his hands to her buttocks, massaged and squeezed her soft, pliant mounds, and kissed her totally with his lips, his tongue and his teeth. She felt faint, her desire for him overpowering her, making her legs weak and her stomach tingle.

Then he broke away from her embrace and began to undress her, tossing her clothes in a heap, biting her breasts as he permitted one to spring free, then the other, then dropping to his knees and gently removing her panties, kissing her stomach, her pubic hair and nibbling hungrily at her thighs.

Marily was in a quandary. She was trying to examine her own emotions, her complete abandon of herself to the pleasure of sex, her lack of moral convictions, that she should be thinking about, the building fires, pin point sharp, that were bursting within her, driving her crazy. She had never wanted anything, anytime, anymore than she wanted Peter now. She could hardly breathe.

He gently laid her on the bed then moved her dressing table so that it was at the direct foot of the bed, then tilted the mirror so that she could see herself, from head to foot, reflecting in the glass. He eased himself onto the bed, so that he was laying on her stomach and lowered his head to her full ripe breasts. He kissed first one, then the other, then licked one from her chest to its very end and sunk his mouth over and onto her nipple. Marily involuntarily rose up, pushed her breasts up, toward him. He sucked with his strong tongue, then teased her nipple with his teeth until it hardened, sprang into life all by itself. Then he moved to the other, repeated the same with it.

Marily lay under him, her hands rubbing his back and shoulders and his head, her fingers in his hair, pressing his head down into the softness of her naked body. She felt that she was alive in every cell of her being from the tip of her toes to the very top of her head. She glanced into the mirror and saw the two of them reflected there, he feeding on her, her moving and groaning under him, feeling as she was certain an actress must feel before the cameras of a dirty movie.

He put his mouth over hers, cupped her breasts with his hands and massaged and squeezed, and probed her mouth with his tongue, mixing his saliva with her, then drawing it out of her, then probing back into her throat, in and out like a slippery, wet serpent.

Marily wanted to consume him, all of him, through her mouth. She felt her lips burn, her tongue was beginning to get sore and enlarged, and she gasped desperately for breaths of air. He stopped kissing her, rolled over on his back, and pulled her on top of him, sideways as he had been on her. She put her mouth on his, probed his lips with her tongue until they parted.

He bit her lips. She drew back, startled, and he raised her by the shoulders and moved her so that her breast was over his mouth, then he sucked it in, worked over the hardened nipple with his lips and tongue and then his teeth until she cried out from pain, then moved her again so that the other breast hung over his face. She got the same treatment on that one, then he lifted her again so that her mouth was on his.

He moved his hands down the smoothness of her back and rubbed her hips where the soft white curves started, then over the roundness of them between her legs, then tentatively softly parted the soft, sparse pubic hair and worked his finger into her soft-lipped cunt and teased the tip of his thumb lightly against the rubbery tissue of her anus.

Marily moaned softly up into his mouth, feeling every movement of his hands over her and about her and opened her legs slightly to feel the finger moving into her wetness and probing, gently, deeper, the warm, moist walls giving to permit the object inside her without pain. She was surprised when he slowly wormed his thumb into her anus, felt the sharpness of the pain which she found endurable and enjoyable and sucked and bit his tongue, worked herself into a frenzy there on him, her moving hips doing the love making. Then, with his probing fingers in both her openings, she started rotating her hips, grinding down on his hands, all her sensations rushing over the sensitive flesh of her naked body. She knew that she was going to have an orgasm, a small, delicious, tiny one that would lead the way to a greater and more cataclysmic one later when he had crawled between her open thighs and fucked her the way her husband never could.

He took her hand in his and guided it to his throbbing prick. Marily felt the hardness that her hand could never completely encompass, and another thrill went through her, surging from her hand to her breasts to her contracting vaginal walls, wave after wave of it, rippling salaciously against her insides. She tried to move onto him, wanted to guide the pulsating hardness into her vagina, but he wouldn't permit it.

He moved her head away from his, then toward his chest. She nibbled at his nipples, which were so very strange, so different from her own prominent ones, so much so that they almost weren't there, then he moved her head down his stomach, and taking a handful of hair, lifted her head and gently levered her mouth to the head of his prick.

She looked into the mirror and saw the monster of pleasure standing tall and excited under her mouth, and she cried out, "No!" before he shoved her head down, filling her mouth full with the wonder of his hard pulsating flesh. But, it was too new, too fast, and she lifted her head, eased the head of his cock from her mouth, and he understood and moved her back alongside him. He kissed her mouth, then her breasts, then moving down her body, her stomach, and spread her legs, kissed and bit her thighs until she thought she would be consumed by the flames of her own burning self. He slowly but surely spread her cuntal lips with his fingers and probed the soft hair-lined pinkness of her vagina with his tongue. He moved the clitoris back, then forward, then shoved his tongue into her, causing her to buck upwards, grinding the wetness of her naked loins towards his face. He stopped, abruptly, and crawled up on top of her.

She was half wild with desire and lust now and clawed into his back, bit his lips, sucked his tongue then pleaded, "Please, Peter, now!"

"Now what?" he asked, breathing hotly into the hollow of her neck.

"Do it to me," she begged, grinding her hips in lewd invitation beneath him.

"Do what to you?" he teased, delighting in her agony.

"Take me, Peter, please darling." She implored, clasping his buttocks in her hands and trying to pull him into her.

"That's not what you mean, Marily. Say what you mean," he whispered moving gently and pressing his hardened penis into her stomach.

"Please! Please, Peter!"

"Say it, baby, just say it and its yours," he repeated, still pressing his hardened cock into her stomach, the secreting seminal fluid rubbing wetly into her flesh. "Ask me to fuck you."

"Oh, yes, please, Peter. Do it… please!" she moaned under him, moving, wanting him inside her more than she could ever have believed that she would want anything.

"Then ask me. Ask me to fuck you," he teased again, bearing down and flexing his hardness into her stomach.

"Fuc… do it… ah… fuck… fuck me, please, darling," she moaned rising to meet his every movement.

"Keep saying it, baby," Peter demanded, raising his hips slightly and moving down so that he was pressed tight between her open legs.

Marily groaned as she felt the huge head of his prick touch her soft eager cunt lips and tried to spread her thighs wider to suck it in to her but he cruelly pulled back. "Say it, Marily, beg me, baby."

"Fuck me! Please! Fuck… ahh…!" She felt the pulsating head sliding wetly into her cunt, barely, and again she tried to move up, to swallow it all the way in her but again he drew back, letting her have only what he wished her to have. She couldn't stand it. She had to have him in her, all the way, all at once!

"Fuck me!" she screamed, clawing at his back. She was awarded with more of him, but not enough. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK ME!" she pleaded until all of him was there, wedged into her, all of her filled and the bigness of the head of his prick pushed deep up in her burning belly.

She ground against him and came almost immediately, in sudden jolting explosions, her orgiastic secretions flowing out against him, bursting around the large pistoning head of his prick.

"Oooooh, mmmmm, aaaaaaah, darling, I'm… I'm cumming, God, I'm cummmmming," she groaned out her orgasm and then relaxed, exhaustion replacing the bursting dam inside her.

Her neighbor stilled his thrust and waited until he could feel the contracting walls of her cunt slowly throb to a halt and then began to move again, out, then slowly in, the sensations of his hard prick against the walls of her vagina slowly exciting her again, until suddenly she was responding once more, with him, her fingers dug into his buttocks, slamming him into her with all her might and slapping into the flesh of his stomach with her own.

She felt a change within him as she labored beneath him, a growing and quickened throbbing of his deep implanted prick and then her own feeling surged within herself. Peter took her legs in his arms and bent her knees back over her shoulders and her attention was arrested by their obscene reflection in the mirror.

She gasped at the pink flanges, the hair-lined tightness of the soft protective folds of flesh around her cunt, drawing back with each out stroke and being pushed in again as Peter thrust forward into her with the hammer-like rhythm he had begun.

She moved under him, wanting all of it deep within her, and gasped when he shoved further into her; she had thought that there was no greater depth of her than he had already reached. She watched his pistoning cock, sinking wet and glistening, deep into the tight, clasping lips of her pussy as often as she could, and clutched and screamed and cried under his power, and felt him impale her solidly, and he raised his head slightly and shoved into her and started short quick strokes that brought her to another climax along with him and he shrieked and she moaned and then he rested on top of her, his cock still imbedded within her, hard as ever, filling her, the hot juices spewed from it oozing out warmly and thickly against the walls of her vagina, squeezing over each ridge of her. She rubbed his back and fingered his hair and studied his muscular buttocks with her legs locked around them in the mirror. She had never felt so good in her life, she told herself, so she closed her eyes and enjoyed to the fullest her every adulterous sensation, her belly filled with the warm wet sperm of his satisfaction. She opened her eyes again and looked at him as he started to withdraw from her. He smiled into her face, then his prick slipped moistly out of her cunt with a wet, sucking sound and he raised himself slightly and placed it on her stomach and then lay on top of it, on top of her, and moved his hands under her head and kissed her gently, lazily, and rested his head alongside hers.

"Come to a party this week-end?" He asked quietly into her ear after the gasps of his orgasm had subsided.

"Fred will be out of town," she answered, just as contentedly as he had asked.

"Good. Then I'll have you all to myself. Just us." He put his hand on her breast and took her nipple between his thumb and index finger.

"What about your wife?" She asked hesitantly, her hand stroking his neck.

"She'll be there. But, don't worry about her. She's quite popular herself. She wanted Fred to be there, too, though."

"What?" Marily demanded, raising her head slightly. "Vivian knows Fred?"

"No, I don't think so. She's seen him though and wanted me to invite the two of you. She likes him."

"I don't understand," she stammered, "You mean that she… wants Fred?" Marily was confused. She had never thought about another woman lusting after Fred. It seemed impossible to her. Considering what a man Peter was and the fact that he was Vivian's husband made it absolutely ridiculous. She couldn't hold back a slight giggle at the thought.

"What are you laughing about?" Peter asked, studying her closely.

"Why, that's ludicrous. Really. I just can't imagine Fred doing anything like this…"

"Fucking?" Peter supplied the word.

"… Fucking with her. Or anyone, really. It's funny."

"Doesn't he fuck you?" Peter asked bluntly.

"Well… yes." Marily felt strange talking to him about she and Fred. "But not like this. I mean… well, differently."

"I didn't know there was any other way," Peter laughed and put his hand on the side of her soft white breast.

"He does it to me this way… but, well, not with the same feeling. He's very different than you, Peter. Much more conservative, I guess. He's quiet." She was unable to describe her husband, did not want to put it into words that sounded like betrayal to her, of just how and when they had sex relations.

"Do you love him, Marily?" Peter asked.

"Of course I do. Certainly." She answered, as much for her own benefit as for his.

"But he doesn't make you happy in bed." He put his hand over her mouth, and then continued. "Marily, you've been married two years and you have a bedroom with two beds in it. Now. I know that you must use one and he the other. Right?"

She moved her head up and down to indicate that he was right. "That doesn't take much figuring, baby. You're turned on to sex so apparently he isn't. But, we'll all work together and we'll fix everything up. You'll have to join the neighborhood club." He finished speaking, got off the bed and began dressing. He left without telling her anymore.

p(line).***

Later, she could have kicked herself for not asking Peter what he had meant by the neighborhood club, but she hadn't. She worried about it, thought about it, but couldn't think of anyway to contact him to find out. He hadn't told her that he would see her the next day or when he would tell her more about the party that she had decided to attend. She called herself a fool and let other worries take control of her mind.

She managed to find a safe hiding place for the gin and vermouth she had purchased for her and Peter before Fred arrived home, on the exact minute of the very hour that he had made it the day before and the day before that. She had washed the glasses they had used, made the bed, put the dressing table back into position, and sprayed all the rooms with Lysol spray, taking no chances on Fred smelling the faintest whiff of gin or cigarette smoke. She hadn't been able to bring herself to ask Peter not to smoke in her house. That would have taken too much explanation.

"Hello, darling," Fred said, walking through the door. He removed his hat, then sat his briefcase carefully on the floor. Marily went to him, stood on tip-toe and kissed him on the lips, slightly and momentarily. Nevertheless, it seemed to shake him up. He looked at her strangely, then walked past her to the bedroom. She could hear him making noises as he put his clothes away, carefully as always, and heard him grunt with pleasure to find his clothes for changing into where he expected them to be, but where they had not been yesterday. When he returned to the living room and sat in his chair and reached for the paper, Marily had his vegetable juice ready and announced proudly that dinner would be on time tonight, as usual.

"Good," he sighed, happy that his home had returned to normal. He rattled the paper.

Across the table from her, over the bowl of spinach souffle, the boiled Swiss chard and the tiny boiled onions, above the stone ground black bread and ginger root, Fred pronounced her name. "Marily, I have a surprise for you. You may go with me to Chicago if you wish. I think we can manage it."

Marily was startled. She wondered immediately it he had suspected something, had seen something in the house that she had failed to arrange before he got home that told him a man had been there. She looked at him, amazed, and couldn't answer what had almost amounted to a question on his part.

He didn't wait for her to answer, however, but continued, saying, "We could take the money out of the savings and you could get a small job that you could do in the house, while I'm away in the daytime, and put it back. I really don't want you to stay here alone, anyway. Particularly if you don't want to." He smiled at her.

"Oh, Fred, that wasn't me talking this morning, really. I don't mind staying here alone. After all, it's your job and I guess I was just a little jealous and you'll be working all the time and… no, no, I'd really just prefer to stay here." She knew that her face was red and wished to hell that it wasn't, hoped that he would not suspect her of anything. Now she wanted to go to the party that Peter had mentioned, though none of it would have happened if Fred had offered to take her yesterday, she had no intention of anything interfering with that wish.

Fred was easily put off. "I think that is the wisest choice, Marily. I mean we agreed never to touch our savings and all, but I worried about you all day and thought that I might be being a little selfish." Then I had that idea. "But, if you think it'll be all right maybe we should just leave it as it stands and I'll only be gone four days anyway."

"It's much better that way, Fred. Much. I'll be all right. Really. Maybe there'll be a party in the neighborhood or something one night." She stopped herself, afraid it might raise his suspicions.

"That would be nice. Darling, did you get my clothes packed today?" He asked, peering across the table at her.

"No, Fred, I didn't. You're not leaving until Friday morning and they'll be ready. Don't worry about it." She did not speak again during the meal, nor did he.

CHAPTER FOUR

Marily drove Fred to the office Friday morning. As she was pulling into the drive way, having deposited Fred at his office, Peter came out of his house and stood and smiled at her. He walked across the lawn, jumped over the small hedge, and yanked open the door on the passenger side of the car. "Hello beautiful," he said, flashing her a cocky, winning smile.

"Not so loud, people will hear you," Marily said, trying not to smile back at him, not wanting her desire of him to show through her exterior.

"One always always speaks to be heard by somebody. Right? Look, the party starts tonight at eight. Why don't you come over to dinner with Vivian and me? You don't want to eat alone, do you?"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing at first. Did he really expect her to sit at the same table with his wife and eat and be aware of her and the food she had cooked and try to carry on a conversation after what had happened between her and Peter? She thought that he must surely be joking. "You're kidding?"

"Not at all. Vivian will see you today about it. I gotta run. Must be in court at ten. Bye love," he said, slamming her car door and moving toward his own garage. She wanted desperately to call him back and talk to him, get a couple of answers, but she couldn't. What neighbor might be listening, watching her? She drove the car into the garage and got out as quickly as possible and went into the safety of her home. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the breakfast table to drink it. The telephone rang. She almost jumped out of her skin, spilling the coffee in the process. She picked up the instrument and said, dully, "Hello."

The voice on the phone came to her in a rush, seeming to fill her whole head with a loud roar. "Hello, Marily – if I may call you that – I'm Vivian, Mrs. Aiken from next door. I saw Peter talking to you in the drive way and," Marily gasped, an instant vision of her whole world falling in on her, clouding her mind, then stammered without making sound and then listened as the voice continued, "I'm sure he told you about dinner tonight. So, I'll expect you about seven-thirty and we'll have an early dinner and the other guests will start arriving about nine but that gives us time for a drink and a little talk and I have to do a great deal today because I have a meeting with the League of Women Voters in half an hour and I must rush now. See you tonight." The voice stopped as suddenly as it had started. Marily stood several minutes with the instrument still in her hand, then slowly replaced it. She was stunned. The woman sounded over the phone just as she did in the yard, talking and never stopping and making everything into one sentence. She poured herself another cup of coffee and drank it slowly, along with smoking a cigarette – she could get the odor out of the house before Fred returned – and wondered about the coming party.

CHAPTER FIVE

She dressed carefully for the party. She had luxuriated in a bath for over an hour, had shaved her legs carefully and under her arms, and had creamed her face and made it up very carefully. She decided at the last minute not to wear a girdle, giggling to herself as she made the decision, even though her black, clinging dress did look better with one. She made herself one small martini just to steady her nerves and sat, listening to the stereo, and drank it and inhaled deeply of her cigarette. She was looking forward eagerly to the party, if not to the dinner. She needed courage, she felt, to face her neighbor's wife after all that had happened and his candid admission that she knew all about it.

At seven thirty-five she presented herself at the door of Peter's house. Much to her surprise he answered the door, took her hand and tenderly led her inside. "Our guest has arrived, Vivian, and she is the picture of loveliness," he called over his shoulder, then bent and kissed her hard on the month. Marily drew back as though he had slapped her. She saw Vivian standing in the doorway, her arms extended. "You're quite right, Peter, she is lovely. Come in, dear, come in. What have you been doing all day besides making yourself lovely for us Peter get her a drink quickly and let's go in here I'm taking her away from you Peter if you're not going to join us in the kitchen and sit here, Marily, you are beautiful." She ran down or stopped of her own accord and her eyes took in the whole of Marily, her stately figure, her large firm breasts and her flat stomach and her long, slim legs. She shook her head and turned and went to the stove.

Peter came through the door, smiling, and winked at her, put a martini in her hand, then sat down beside her. He put his arm behind her back and then over her arm and pulled her to him. Marily was sure he was crazy. He kissed her right there, in front of his wife who had her back turned to them but who could and did turn around in time to see him kiss her.

"What… what on earth…?" she stammered, trying to meet the eyes of Vivian. She felt as though she could crawl through a one inch hole in the floor if there happened to be one.

"Peter, don't be naughty and embarrass her and muss up her clothes and we haven't even had one drink yet to say nothing of dinner don't mind him, Marily, he's always the same but you should have worn coveralls if you didn't want him pawing at you all evening he's that way you horny old man you let's all go into the other room until the dinner is ready."

Vivian led the way, taking them through the dining room, where Peter grasped Marily's buttock provocatively in his hand, in to the living room and they all sat. Peter put on a record and Vivian was still completing a sentence that had started fifty thoughts ago when she somehow announced dinner. They went into the dining room, Marily almost physically ill from the talk and the drink and the tenseness from being close to Peter in his own house with his wife there. She asked where the daughter was.

"She's at my mother's I had to take her there after school and then rush around to the store and buy all the food for dinner frozen though it was it wasn't bad and get home and prepare everything for the party and now if you'll excuse me I have to go change clothes and Peter be nice." Vivian was half-way up the stairs by the time they heard the last of her voice, but she started talking again before she disappeared through a door at the top of the stairs.

Peter smiled at Marily, made a gesture that indicated how hopeless it was to listen to Vivian or to try to answer her. He enveloped Marily in his arms, drew her body to his and kissed her tenderly. Marily stood as he took her, arms hanging down the side of her body, stiff, her mind in circles and images of Vivian catching the two of them, there, in her own house with her husband kissing her. She drew away.

"What's the matter, darling?" Peter asked in all innocence.

"Peter, you must be crazy, doing that here with your wife upstairs." Marily said nervously. "What if she should see you… us, like that?" She put a cigarette in her mouth and Peter leaned forward to light it for her.

"Dear girl, she doesn't care. I thought that I had explained…" he began, but his words were chopped off by the ringing of the door bell. He went to the door, Marily straightened her skirt, ran a hand through her hair and sat very straight on her chair. Marily looked up as they entered and saw one of the most striking couples she had ever in her life seen. The woman was tall, almost six feet Marily would have guessed, every part of her body was well proportioned, her hair was raven black, her eyes green and her complexion as white and unblemished as a baby's skin. Her husband was her opposite, blond, taller than his wife, blue eyed, broad shouldered and handsome. He spoke not to Marily directly, but around her, saying to Peter but looking at her, "What a lovely woman, Peter. I know not how you do it." He spoke with an accent, not a heavy one, and Marily noticed immediately that he was an educated European, of what origin she had no idea.

She turned her attention from him, momentarily, and saw Peter in a passionate embrace with the beautiful woman. She gasped, anger rising in her. Peter released the woman, removed his hands from her buttocks, and introduced them to Marily: "Darling, this is Hans and Anna Shiller. And this is our neighbor, Marily." He smiled, looking down at Marily, but she couldn't meet his eyes.

Hans dropped into the chair next to her and asked her about herself, then wanted to know if her husband were there, or would he be there later on. "No," Marily had answered, then had started to explain that he was out of town for the week-end and would not return until Tuesday. She was interrupted by the arrival of guests, all couples, and the introductions that followed. Everyone seemed to know each other, intimately. They all kissed, ran their hands over buttocks and pulled another person to them, against them, both the men and the women. Marily tried to accept their actions in her own mind, tried not to see anything wrong with the friendliness they apparently felt for each other. She reminded herself that she and Fred had not been hitting the social circuit for a long while, since their marriage, and that maybe, in the short span of two years, things were changing. Hans interrupted her thoughts.

"I am glad to find you the extra women. It is wonderful. You are as lovely as Peter said you were." He looked levelly into her eyes, sending goose bumps over her bare arms and back. She started to answer him, but he continued, "Peter and I, we shall be together tonight. We will not permit hurt to you. You shall see." He smiled, then stood and walked away from her.

Marily was introduced to one medical doctor and his wife; another lawyer and his wife, a couple of business men and their wives, people in all walks of life, the professional ones, the smart and well-dressed and intelligent and moneyed people. She began to relax, feeling that she was getting a firm foot inside the society of her neighborhood, that Fred would be proud of her and delighted with the party when she told him about it. She had had her glass refilled several times and began to feel a little light headed by the time Vivian descended the stairs, her voice floating above the crowd in the room, in a steady stream, all the way to the bottom of the stairwell. There, she began to kiss on the lips, every man and woman in the room. Marily was simply shocked. She finished her fifth drink and watched the hostess. It suddenly occurring to her that Vivian had a good five years on Peter. That thought sent her in search of another drink as through her alcoholic haze she could hear the older woman's voice resounding monotonously through the room.

"All names are in the hat if everyone is here by now and looking around I'm sure they are but we are going to stick to our normal policy and the host is Peter and he's to be with the new member and all of you know how Hans and Peter are inseparable and," she continued, not bothered at all by the jovial laugh and comments from the rest of the guests, "So they will see to that end of the affair if the rest of us will just draw and the numbers are of course as we discussed last meeting so the ten evens will be with the ten odds and the twenty evens with the twenty odds and those with the decimal will of course be more than two, especially for Ben who insisted on two women…"

Marily heard only part of what she said, having returned from the kitchen with a full glass and she didn't even listen to the part. She couldn't believe that a woman or a man for that matter, could ever talk as much and say so little as Vivian did. She looked for Peter and saw him coming toward her and smiled her bravest smile.

Peter dropped onto the arm of her chair, put his hand over her shoulder, then bent and kissed her on the mouth. Marily was shocked, or surprised, but the bluntness of her mind snapping was lessened by the alcohol. Peter spoke to her, softly, saying "Let's find Hans and go over to your house."

"Hans?" She questioned.

"Yes. Come on," he said forcefully as though she had no choice and pulled her up from her seat, put his arm around her waist, and they set off through the kitchen. There Hans was engaged with a woman not his wife, a beautiful blonde, his arm around her, talking in his continental way. Peter laughed and said, "Grab a bottle and come along." He then guided Marily through the door, across the patio, and to her own yard.

"Peter," she pleaded, holding back so that he was almost dragging her, "What is this? Why did you ask Hans to come? I don't understand."

"I'll explain it to you, Marily. Don't you trust me? Don't you like Hans? He's wild. We work well together, don't we?" He spoke to Hans who had joined them and was walking on the opposite side of Marily.

"Well… I… I don't know, Peter," she started, but he closed her mouth with his own, caught both of her soft breasts of white flesh in his hands and pulled her to him. He kissed her long and hard, rubbed himself against her, put his tongue in her mouth and bit her lips. He released her and they continued on into the house.

She stopped just inside, her mind a turmoil of jumbled thoughts, mixed with her own desires that almost were overpowering her, and looked at the cupboard where the glasses were kept. Hans followed her gaze with his own, said, "Permit me," and opened the cupboard and set three glasses on the counter, then filled them to the brim with liquor. He raised his glass, after putting one in each of their hands, "To a good time by all," he smiled. Marily drank, the fiery liquid burning her throat and tried to smile.

When she looked around to smile at Peter he was no longer there. The thought occurred to her that he had probably stepped into the bathroom. She was surprised to find herself in Hans' arms, his mouth pressed to hers. She tried to move away, but he held her firmly, and kissed her deliciously, causing her body to tingle and taunt her. She felt his hands glide familiarly down her back, so she pushed him angrily away, then leaned back against the counter and put her hand to her forehead. She couldn't understand what was wrong with her, how she could be making love to one man – or at least letting him kiss her – while another that she had cheated with, had been unfaithful to her husband with, was alone with them in her own house. She shook her head to clear it, felt familiar arms encircling her. She lifted her face, tears streaming down it, to Peter.

Peter took her gently in his arms, put her head on his shoulder, rubbed his hand over her back, and talked to her, "It'll be all right, Marily, it will. You'll see. I didn't mean to frighten you, you're beautiful, such lovely hair and eyes and figure. Come," he told her, moving her toward the bedroom. Marily realized with a jolt that Peter was nude. He hadn't been in the bathroom, then, but in the bedroom undressing! She started to resist, to complain, then decided not to, to let herself be taken by him, to be loved and wanted. She stopped short just inside the bedroom door and her eyes widened in surprise.

The furniture had been arranged as Peter had placed it the last time he was there except that Fred's bed had been pulled next to hers. And, the shock of shocks, Hans was sitting on the now double bed, naked, drinking and smiling at her. She couldn't believe it. Nor could she resist looking at him, the hugeness of him, the beauty of his face, his slightly crooked smile and his lock of blond hair hanging over his forehead.

She felt dizzy, almost faint, from the liquor she had consumed, the craziness of the party that had been unlike any party she had even attended. The whole thing seemed like a weird but pleasant nightmare to her.

Peter took her solidly in his arms again, unzipped her dress down the back, put his hand inside the dress and over her softness, then down to her soft white buttocks, and pulled her to him and kissed her long and hard. She couldn't resist. Her body slumped against his; she felt the fullness of his sex against her. She moaned softly when he squeezed her buttocks. Peter slipped her dress off her shoulders, his mouth on hers all the time, his tongue probing deep within her. He moved her arms from around his neck and moved her slip straps over her shoulders, letting that slide to the floor on top of her dress. Then he unsnapped her bra, then kissed her breasts as he slowly removed it.

Marily had forgotten about Hans. She glanced at the bed, saw him sitting there as she had first seen him. She gave a start and tried to cover her breasts with her arm. Peter would have none of that. He took her arm and gently moved it from her breasts, then said with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Look at this, Hans. Beautiful, aren't they?"

Hans ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes sparkled and he replied, "They are that, Marily," giving a musical tone to her name. She noticed his rampant hardness being stroked lovingly between his own fingers and suddenly felt like a helpless maiden being offered up for sacrifice to these two virile naked men. And then, before she could react, before any thought could be formed in her mind, Peter had rid her of her panties and her shoes. She stood stark naked before the two nude men. Peter gently laid her on the bed, between himself and Hans, and turned sideways and put his mouth over hers.

Marily couldn't believe that such a thing was happening to her. She tried to be rational, tried to get her thoughts sorted out to figure out just what kind of compromise she had let herself in for. It was impossible. She felt hopelessly entrapped by her feelings for Peter, and he was there and he was kissing her and she was enjoying it. She didn't think at all about Hans, had forgotten that he was there, in bed with her and Peter, until she suddenly felt a strange set of lips on her breasts. She jumped, and Hans withdrew his mouth from her, then she was encouraged by Peter, murmuring into her ear, "Marily, trust me. Please," then moving his mouth back to hers. Again she felt the warm wetness of Hans' mouth on her breasts, the heat and strength of Peter's tongue in her own mouth, and groaned out her helplessness to resist their magic torment, or tried to. She put one hand on Peter's head, on the back of it, and rubbed. She could feel her breasts responding to the expert kissing by Hans. Feeling rushed there, she could tell that her nipples were beginning to harden, and her other hand went to the back of his head. Fire suddenly shot through her, from her mouth to her breasts to her loins and she pressed her thighs tightly together to try and quench the rising feeling of desire there between her legs.

Hans began to kiss her stomach, then above her soft pubic hair and strange hands were opening her legs, gently but firmly. She felt as though she were going to burn up, that from the inside the fires of her could consume the totality of her. She groaned when Peter squeezed her breasts, then withdrew his mouth from hers and kissed them, those two surging, perfectly shaped, pink topped breasts.

Hans spread her legs, gently, kissing her body softly and using his tongue and teeth to excite the deeper nerves, and then moved his mouth to the slight hair-lined lips of her vagina, felt with his tongue the soft flanges of her vagina. She groaned lasciviously under him, wriggled her hips slightly. He took his thumbs and pressed her vagina apart so the secret cavern opened and the soft inner flesh came into view. It was pink and soft and secreted moisture, glistening and wet, appeared on the soft inner flesh of her thighs. He breathed into her and she groaned again, twisting her head from side to side on the softness of her husband's pillow.

He moved his mouth forward, his tongue feeling a passage for the rest of him, around her cuntal lips, into her softness, then pushed his face against the wetness of her vaginal slit. He felt her move to him, toward his face, and his tongue pushed into her open, waiting cunt. He felt weak from the pleasure her surrender gave him; the freshness of her, the pleasing female odor of her cunt. He breathed her up into his nostrils, plunging his tongue deep into her and she moaned and moved her naked loins more forcefully toward him. He moved his tongue within her, nipping at the tender flanges of flesh with his teeth between the thrusting in and out of his tongue, and soon he heard a soft moan building within her, then she violently flung herself upward, and screamed, "Ooooh, ooooh," and ground her buttocks into the mattress and he probed deeper and deeper into her.

He stopped his probing, withdrew his lashing tongue and found the throbbing, hard clitoris and licked. Marily was going wild with pleasure under him, moving her hips in ever more violent motions, pushing her tongue into Peter's mouth and her breasts upwards to his face when he was alternately kissing and squeezing her there. She could never stop or turn aside the passion in her body at that moment. She squirmed and twisted and turned and threw herself at their hot, hungry searching mouths and tongues. She felt the dam within her building for the break that was certain to come, and quickly. She wanted it to, tried to help it by her movements. She was thwarted, however. Peter and Hans changed places, slipping and sliding along her body, one on each side, and the newness of Hans' lips on her was the next sensation she had, then the hands of Peter on her vagina, a gentle probing with his fingers, then his teeth along her inner thigh, and she quivered with pleasure and gratitude and anticipation.

She liked Hans, liked the feel of his tongue in her mouth, the soft caressing of her breasts from his hands. She ran her own hands over the hard, taut muscles of his back, then to the back of his head and pulled him into her, took his tongue fully into her mouth, and sucked it, slowly, then more violently. She could feel her body lathering with sweat, straining as it was to answer the urgent needs of the two mean laboring over her naked body.

Peter moved her unresisting legs apart and placed himself between them. He ran his hand over the full length of his prick, hardened like steel now, and rubbed the head of it with his thumb. It secreted a small amount of sticky seminal fluid showing the depth of his own lust and desire. Then, he took his hands away and it stood straight out from his body, rigid, throbbing so hard that he thought he could see the rate of his own heart beat by looking at it. He put his hands under Marily, taking into them the soft whiteness of her desire-quivering buttocks and pulled her loins apart, slightly, then moved forward so that he was ready to enter her. He dipped his body at the hips and placed the head of his pulsating cock on the lips of the wet, pink, vaginal opening. He pressed the soft, resilient crevice of her buttocks further apart with his hand and worked his finger into her anus, the soft spongy and rubbery tissue there opening slowly to his tender probing.

He lifted the whole of her hips toward him, then eased his cock into the warm pink flesh of her vagina, then rested, feeling her move against him slightly, then back off. He squeezed and massaged her wide-spread thighs and moved gently into her, the walls of her cunt sucking him on and on deeper and deeper into her. He gradually moved his body forward so that he was penetrating her almost completely, almost all the way, and the clasping, wet warmth there drove him almost crazy, cozily wrapped around his hard pulsating cock. He did not push the head all the way in, all the way to its deeply hidden nest, but stopped short of that and rested, then again massaged the writhing woman's thighs.

Marily, her mouth open wide in passion, felt every one of Peter's manipulations. His nibbling at her thighs had sent cold shivers of pleasure up her body, only to be replaced by hot desire. She grasped to her what she could of Hans, kept his tongue in her mouth and worked it, sucking and biting and kissing, and moved her breasts, which seemed to her to be seeking a solace all by themselves, toward him until he increased his massaging and squeezing of them. Her hands tore at his back, at the muscles and the hollows of it, as far down as she could reach.

She felt every nerve twitching, springing to life, all of them building a fire within her that she was sure could never be extinguished, no matter what was used to suffocate it. Then she felt the cheeks of her buttocks again being gently pulled apart by the strong hands of Peter and she wanted to push onto him, have him spear her without thought of pain to her, to fill her hungry, throbbing pussy with the total strength of him. She didn't however; he had done alright by her in her two previous experiences with him and she didn't want to spoil anything by her own inexperienced greed. She felt the rubbery head of his prick in her soft, yielding cunt and moaned, trying desperately to hold herself back and not to raise herself and take all of him into her, but to let him lead the way.

When she felt his large shaft wedging her apart, sliding into her fully, she could have died from the pleasure it gave her. She could not help herself, she moved up on him, drawing him into herself, she was angry that he did not grind into her, but had stopped and stayed an infinitesimal distance away from filling her completely. Then she felt his practiced hands on her, rubbing and squeezing and massaging and then again on the cheeks of her buttocks, pulling them apart and the finger that cautiously probed her anus and then entered, sending welcome pain to her. She bit Hans' lips, pushed her tongue into his mouth, then accepted his into her throat and hung on for dear life as she suddenly trembled from head to foot.

Peter knew that she was ready, that she wanted the whole of his lust-hardened cock in her, deep and that she wanted him to grind away, pounding into her, rocking her with his sexual power. But, he deliberately took it easy, even though it hurt him to do so, and moved in and out of her, never hitting all the way to the top of her cervix until she started responding to him, slithering her cunt up over his prick, trying with the walls and muscles of her vagina to swallow the whole of it, to take it deep within her churning belly. He was on his knees, cupping her rounded buttocks in his hands, pulling her to him and away from him as he wished. And suddenly he could no longer take it and with a deep throated grunt, rammed into her all the way, until his balls smacked tight down against her exposed anus. He held for a moment, hearing her groan helplessly up into Hans' mouth.

Hans took his mouth from Marily's, moved his body on the bed so that he was straddling her chest, sitting atop her firm, heaving breasts. He could feel through her body the entrance of Peter, feel her heave when Peter plunged his big cock all the way into her. He put his hand behind her head and lifted it slightly, took his own long rigid cock in his other hand and guided it so that the head of it pressed against her lipstick covered lips. In spite of lust ridden desire, Marily tried to turn her head away, but he would have none of that. He opened her lips with his finger, and slowly guided the pulsating head of his prick toward her now open mouth.

Marily couldn't believe that Hans, a perfect stranger, would want her to do a thing like that and she tried to escape the mammoth hardness that he wanted her to suck. But, she couldn't. Then she remembered the warm, forbidden pleasure Peter's had given her and she relented, felt him open her lips with his finger, then the spongy head of his cock slipped into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth, rubbing with a slight stickiness on top of her tongue. She moved forward slightly when Peter rammed hard into her and then without warning her mouth was filled almost to the bursting point with Hans' hard rod of pulsating flesh. She closed her eyes and sucked, and tried not to gag, moving with abandoned desperation her hips against the wonderful fiery hardness within her and enjoyed the swiftly cruising pleasure that it gave her.

Peter began to fuck faster and faster in and out of her cunt, grinding at the top of her with every inward thrust. He could feel the warmness of her clutching at his hardened prick, sucking it into her, filling her whole slit. He buffeted in and out and ground and dug his hands into her, pulling her toward him, then away from him. He watched the hard, round tube of solid flesh coming out of her cunt, then sliding back in, glistening and wet and throbbing.

Hans pressed his cock further and further into her mouth, enjoying the pleasure it gave him to know that it was almost too much for her, the added pleasure he felt in his balls, the tingling there that demanded that he thrust into her mouth, deeper and deeper, until he was in up to the very root of his prick and he did so, slowly, feeling her buffeted upwards by Peter's hungry thrusts into her cunt. He leaned over and watched the hardness of him slipping into her red mouth, saw her lipstick covered lips creeping over the flesh of his hard cock, and gradually leaned and pushed all the way into her. She tried to move her head so that he would have to withdraw it, but he was too fast for her. He held onto her head firmly and pushed down until he felt his balls on her chin; he looked and was amazed at the smoothness of her complexion compared with the wrinkled skin of his sack. Then he began to plunge in and out of her, matching the rhythm that Peter had established plunging into her cunt. He was overjoyed when he felt her hands grab his waist and pull him into her. This, he knew, was the ultimate surrender and there was no turning back for the distraught housewife now.

Marily knew that she was going to cum. The two of them together using her body like a whore were just more than she could stand. She had not liked the huge prick of Hans in her mouth at first because it made it difficult for her to breathe; then that had changed, her excitement growing and getting away from her with every delicious thrust into her cunt from Peter down between wide-flung thighs. She had accepted the whole of Hans' prick, deep within her mouth, down her throat and was near to panic when he would not let her escape it. Then, without warning, she began to enjoy that as much as she did the feeling of Peter inside her. She felt the thrusting into her cunt and into her mouth and wondered dazedly if she were being torn apart by the two of them. Then the ecstasy of it all, the mounting sensations deep within her, began to explode and she sucked hungrily at Hans' hardened cock and clutched with the walls of her cunt at Peter.

She knew that Peter was getting ready to explode, that she was, but she had never expected Hans to erupt with his hot, burning semen into her throat, but he did. She felt her inner dam breaking and moved against Peter with a force that he was helpless to control, bothered as he was by his own mounting need to come, and then she was suddenly aware of an increased growing and throbbing of Hans' brick-hard prick in her mouth. She clutched and clawed and would have screamed out with pleasure if she could have when she felt herself going, losing control, her sensations suddenly bunching themselves deep in her womb and gathering to split apart. Peter plunged into her faster and faster and Hans tore at her throat and suddenly it was there. Her legs flailed out in the air, her nails bit into Hans' hips and she came, she broke, the whole of her orgasm flowing out with wild, abandoned force against Peter, who was hard inside her. He pushed into her forcefully and came, spewing his hot wetness over hers, filling her womb with thick, milk-white fluid, then Hans burst in her mouth, scalding her throat with his hot, pungent semen, then pushed on into her and ground down hard against her lips, hurting them, because in his passion and force of orgasm they were pressed back against her nibbling teeth.

The three of them came together, the men greedily clutched at her, roughly grabbed her to them with their hands and bore into her, then slowly released her and all of them parted at the same time, Hans falling to one side of her, Peter leaning backwards and his deflated cock popping wetly out of her, then moving his body alongside hers. She felt like a queen, the two most handsome men she had even known resting with her, having exhausted themselves and her with lovemaking. She stroked their heads softly with her hands.

"You are a most wonderful woman, Marily," Hans said, his hand flat on her still heaving stomach. "Truly you are."

"The most wonderful," Peter said, raising up and kissing her mouth. "We love you, beautiful." He went back to his former position and moved his hand appreciatively over the whole length of her smooth, soft body.

Marily could say nothing. She felt like crying with happiness. She didn't know how she had lived so long (only twenty-four years) without knowing what the real unrestricted joys of sex could be. She felt so lucky to be there, to have them, both of them, that she wanted to cry.

Hans disturbed her mood. He excused himself, got off the bed and left the room. She smiled at the leanness of his buttocks as he disappeared through the door. Then he returned a moment later, his sex swinging in front of him, with three glasses of drinks. He put them on the bedside table, then moved his arm under her head and lifted it slightly, then helped her drink from one of the glasses. She smiled her thanks to him. He put the glass in her hand, then handed Peter one and took one for himself. Then he toasted her, each part of her, then they all drank to everything each of them had experienced in the few short minutes of their orgiastic three-way coupling.

The three of them lay, satiated, drinking the burning liquor, enjoying the nearness of each other, the fulfillment that each of them felt. Marily finished her drink, then her hand gripped the glass. She had not thought about Fred all evening and now he suddenly crowded in on her thoughts, filling her with shame.

"Oh, God," she cried, "What have I done?" Both of the men immediately began to soothe her, to try and give her comfort. "Don't worry about Fred, Marily, he's in Chicago. He won't be back until Tuesday. You know that."

"It isn't a matter of when he'll be back," she sobbed, "I'll never be able to face him no matter when he comes back."

"Marily," Hans spoke, giving that strange musical sound to her name, "We will all help Fred adjust. You shall see. My wife is now with someone else. Of that I am sure. I do not mind. Your Fred will not mind once he is included. You will see."

"You don't know my Fred, Hans. He will mind. He… he doesn't like sex like you… we do. He would never let himself be included." She was crying again just thinking about Fred's strict moral code and what he would think of her if he saw her now, laying in bed naked with a nude man on each side of her, drinking liquor. She shuddered.

"Marily, please," Peter said, kissing her on the mouth through her tears, "Trust me. I told you that we will see that Fred comes to appreciate you and all of us. You'll see. We'll manage it. Just trust me." He pulled her to him, his arms wrapped around her and loved her tenderly, kissing away the salty tears. "We've already got a plan worked out for Fred. He'll be a changed man by next weekend at Hans' house. That's where we're having the next party."

Marily couldn't believe – even though she wanted to trust Peter – that Fred would ever go to a sex party, would ever join the neighborhood club as apparently she had done. She was wondering what the plan might be to entrap him, when Peter kissed her hungrily, probing his tongue deep into her, searching her mouth for excitement. She forgot about Fred and responded, surprised that the fires were already, so soon, building within her again.

Peter kissed her long and hotly, then guided her hand down to his soft, deflated penis. Even resting, soft, it seemed to her bigger than Fred's. But, she had never put her hand on his sex, he never having invited her to. She rolled it about her closed hand, pressing into the side of it with her fingers, then moved her hand to his testicles. She was surprised at the feel of the soft sac of flesh. She had never before felt so free to know a man, to run her hand over him, to find out for herself what he was made of. Just the idea that she was doing that made her want to cry out for joy. She felt Hans adjusting himself between her legs. He lowered himself on top of her, the full length of his body, and kissed her breasts. He moved her legs together so that his prick lay on top of them softly and stroked her thighs with his hands.

Marily felt wonderful. She kissed and sucked at Peter's lips and tongue and moved her legs so that she could feel Hans' prick against each leg. She continued to massage and handle Peter's cock, which was fast beginning to lengthen and harden. And, she loved the feel of Hans' mouth on her breasts. She massaged the back of his neck, his head, and moved her hand over his blond, silken hair.

She enjoyed the slow and kind nature of their manipulations until both of them were rock hard again. Peter was kissing her more violently and Hans was biting and squeezing her soft white breasts. As if by signal both of them stopped, Hans moved her legs and placed himself between them, moved them further apart and placed his hands on the inside of her thighs and used his finger to slowly spread the lips of her cunt apart.

He took one hand and put it on his extremely long, white rod of flesh and ran his thumb over the head of it. Marily couldn't believe that he was so big, that she could be expected to take all of that huge tool inside her little soft pussy, but a part of her mind told her that she could, that he wasn't any larger there than Peter was, that she wanted him to, to ram into her wih all his might and push it all the way up inside her. She moaned in an almost tortured anticipation.

Hans lifted her legs, put the head of his hard prick to the lips of her vagina and eased himself in, the passage warm and soft and wet. Marily groaned and took all of him into, seemingly, the very depths of her being, and enjoyed the feel of him there. He stayed inside her, not moving, not plunging in and out, and kissed her breasts. Then he took her in his arms and rolled over, bringing her on top of him as he did so.

Suddenly Peter was behind her, kissing her back, massaging the curved mounds of her soft, resilient buttocks and pushing her up and down onto Hans. Then, spreading the smooth white mounds he used his finger to tease and then enter her anus. She gasped with pain when his finger slipped inside her, then moved back onto it, enjoying the strange, forbidden thrill that it gave her.

She could feel the head of his cock probing the soft, rubbery tissue of the tight resisting hole, but she had no idea whether or not he wanted to or would be able to enter her there. Then, he did, gradually, causing her pain that she had never felt the equal of, just the head of his prick, then he reached around her and took her breasts in his hands and squeezed and rubbed her nipples between his fingers. She began to relax, somewhat, the feeling of Hans inside her, her lips bent to his, her tongue in his mouth, getting massaged and sucked by him. She could feel herself coming ablaze deep inside and started her motions up and down on Hans' large impaling prick faster and faster.

Suddenly, Peter grunted behind her and thrust his hard cock all the way into the soft rubbery walls of her rectum, pulling savagely on her tits to prevent her from moving away from him. She felt indescribable pain. It rocked her from her middle to her head and down her legs into her toes. All movement stopped. She sat still, getting used to the pain of the two of them, then Peter leaned his stomach against her back, kissed her neck and said, "You'll like this after a while. I'm going to move in and out a bit and you tell me if it hurts too much." He moved a bit more into her, then slowly pulled out, then pushed his prick back into her rectum, then repeated the same thing again, kissing and nibbling at her neck at the same time. And suddenly, for some indescribable reason, it felt right to her, moving it at the same time into her soft slit, then Peter behind her moving in perfect harmony with Hans, so that the heads of their cocks seem to meet and press together with only a thin tissue of her soft, pink flesh separating the two of them. She rocked up and down and was pulled up and down by both Peter and Hans. She could feel the hardness sluice into her stomach from behind and the hardness glide through the softness of her cunt and her joy was fantastic and beyond all imagination.

She thought she could sense the swelling of both their hardnesses, the large heads of their cocks seeming to expand inside her and she felt her own need burning again, deep within her and she speared herself onto Hans, and at the same time onto Peter and ground the two of them deep within her. She glued her mouth to Hans' mouth, his tongue filled hers, and Peter tightened his grip on her soft breasts.

She rose up and down and was pulled up and down until she felt her insides exploding, the hotness spreading over the head of Hans' still plunging cock, and she worked harder, emitting a moan that propelled both of them into greater bucking and plunging into her and suddenly it was there, all of it emptied once again from within her, causing an animal cry to escape her lust-tortured throat. She went limp between them, and seconds later they both spewed into her, Hans' hot sperm filling the upmost cavern of her throbbing vagina and Peter shooting into her bowels, hotly, then clawing at her and grinding and pushing and plowing and then falling weakly against her, emitting a small, helpless, deep-throated groan.

They rested, Hans under her and Peter still lodged deep in her sperm-filled rectum, then she felt the softening of them, then the slow withdrawal of Peter, then she moved slowly off Hans and felt him slip wetly out of her. She moved off him, lay alongside him on the bed, her breathing deep and calm. She couldn't remember when she had felt so satisfied, so spent.

The three of them lay quietly for what seemed like a long time, then Peter announced that he would get drinks. He hopped off the bed, went through the door, and disappeared. Marily turned her head, looked at Hans and said, "Are you sure your wife doesn't mind that you are here? I think that if I were your wife, I would mind. I really do."

Hans smiled, then turned sideways and put his arm across her. "You will not mind when your husband is with another woman. You will see. We will use my beautiful wife to seduce your husband into pleasure. I do not mind that. No." He kissed her gently on the mouth.

It was too much for Marily to fathom. She could visualize Fred's reaction if he should discover her there, with Peter and Hans. He'd never recover from the shock. Nor, she told herself, would she. She gently moved Hans' arm and got off the bed and went into the bathroom. Suddenly she felt like a shower, wanted and needed one. She automatically started to undress, then giggled remembering that she was nude and had been for sometime, then stepped into the shower. She lathered her whole body, touched her breasts gingerly, smoothed her hands over them, then rinsed off the soap and stepped out from under the steaming water. Marily dried herself carefully, powdered her body and used some risque perfume that she had not dared to use before, then draped a towel around her, over her breasts and around her curvaceous buttocks, then re-entered the bedroom. Hans and Peter sat on the bed, sipping their drinks. They both looked up, whistled, and patted the bed for her to sit down. She walked toward them, then stopped just at the edge of the bed. Peter reached out, yanked the towel with his hand, and laughingly tossed it to Hans.

Hans took the towel, said, standing and bowing, "If I may be permitted?"

Marily nodded her approval and Hans slipped into the bathroom. She laughed and Peter grabbed her and pulled her to him on the bed, propped her against him, and put a glass in her hand.

"We'll go back over to the house very soon. I might like to freshen up a little if Hans doesn't drown himself in there." He kissed her. "My but you are clean and fresh," He said, biting into her soft flesh.

"And you're vulgar and dirty," she laughed, kissing his mouth.

"Peter," she asked seriously, "How can I face Vivian again? I would hate any woman who came into my house and took my husband away, especially if he were you. And don't laugh at me, please. I'm serious. I just don't think that I can face her."

"You innocent lamb," Peter said, moving his hand up and down her arm. "Vivian started this 'neighborhood club' herself. Don't worry about her. She likes you. She really does. And, she likes Fred, too. Just don't worry about it."

"May I ask you something, Peter?" Marily inquired, hesitantly.

"Shoot," he told her.

"Well… is Vivian older than you? I know that's a kind of bitchy question, but I'm serious."

"Yes, she is. Seven years older. Why?" He seemed puzzled.

"No reason. I thought so tonight, seeing the two of you together for the first time and I thought that it just might be the witch in me thinking such things about her just because she's your wife and I was afraid to ask you but…" Marily hurried on, fearing that she was hurting his feelings.

Peter stopped her with a kiss. "I love her, Marily. Very much. She worked hard and put me through law school and she is a perfect wife. Sure, she talks all the time and I don't know half the time what's she said or even what's she saying, but that doesn't bother me. She's very tolerant and she returns my love and she respects me. So." He pushed himself up and indicated that he was going into the bathroom.

Hans pushed through the door, no towel wrapped around him, and tossed the towel to Peter. "Get Marily a drink, you German bum," Peter joked, then closed the door to the bathroom quickly. Hans shrugged his shoulders, then went to the kitchen for drinks. He returned shortly and handed a full glass to Marily. They sat, quietly, looking into the mirror at the foot of the bed, and drank.

Peter bounded through the door of the bathroom, shiningly clean, yelled, "Up! Up! Dress! Dress! We have to go back to my house and get in on the drawing. Quick!" he ordered, popping the towel at them.

CHAPTER SIX

Marily marveled at her unconcern in dressing before the two men, each of them watching her, Peter taking her brassiere and panties and smiling and tossing them aside and telling her that she didn't need them, wouldn't need them the rest of the week-end. She felt strangely satisfied, somehow calm and peaceful. She wanted to draw the whole world to herself and embrace it, hold it in her arms and stand and caress it.

She meekly let herself be led out of her own home by Peter and Hans and across the patio to the next patio and into his house. She thought at first that the party had somehow broken up, that most of the people had gone home. There were only four people in the living room, each of which Peter and Hans greeted profusely and spoke in front of her of her accomplishments and beautiful body. She blushed deeply.

Roy, a middle-aged but still handsome man said, "Peter, fix the drawing so that I can be with Marily." He laughed, slapping Peter on the back. Marily was horrified. The idea of a drawing in which she was the prize did not set well with her. She turned her back on them and started for the kitchen. Peter was just behind, took her in his arms and apologized for Roy's 'crudeness'. "He must have forgotten that you are here for the first time, Marily. I'm sorry." He held her in his arms and kissed her lightly, then, "Come on, let's make drinks for everyone. We'll have everyone in the living room in…" he looked at his watch, "exactly seven minutes."

It took just about seven minutes to make the drinks. Marily was aware of the increased noise and conversation in the other room, the one she had left shortly before. She hoped that she wouldn't be timid about facing them, prayed that what Peter had told her about Vivian not minding would be true. She knew that that would be her who was married to Peter.

Peter kissed her on the nose, then put a tray of drinks in her hands, said, "O.K.?" and then they went back to the living room. Marily heard Vivian's voice above everyone's and hesitated, then took a deep breath and walked into their midsts.

"Oh, what a lovely creature and all the time for nearly two months living and being next door and all kinds of doubts assailed me about asking her over and Peter, you sly dog you, and we're all ready and the second and last evens are made up and we'll all drink and then we'll draw and it is a good idea which is Peter's that we re-assemble and hope and speculate before the next one so here's to all and one."

Vivian stopped talking long enough to swallow a small amount from the glass that Marily had served her. Everyone joined in the toast, all of them drank deeply.

The concoction was delicious, Marily decided, drinking hers hesitantly at first, then taking more each time, enjoying the faint burning and soothing sensation that it gave her. She wondered what was in the drink that she had never tasted before, but then she decided that she didn't care. She held out her glass for a re-fill when Hans passed among the guests and replenished their glasses. She smiled warmly and secretly to Anna. It made her feel good.

Suddenly Anna, Hans' wife, started toward her. Marily had almost forgotten about her. She had the impulse to turn and flee, but she couldn't. She stood still and the nerves that controlled her to move suddenly froze. She tried to return the smile that Anna gave her, but it was impossible.

"Well, Marily, welcome to the club. Was Hans a devil with you?" Her green eyes were fastened on Marily; her smile was genuine and sincere.

"I… no… I don't…" Marily stuttered, suddenly angry with herself for her own stupidity. She had never been so embarrassed in her life.

"I understand, Marily. There is a first time for everything. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so blunt. Let's sit down." She took Marily's arm and guided her to a chair in the dining room. "Look," she said, sitting her beautiful self onto a straight-backed chair, "I understand that I'm to be instrumental in helping your husband to join. Tell me what he's like."

Marily's thoughts, suddenly directed to Fred, caused her to laugh, and relax. "I don't know what to say, really, Anna. We've been married two years and…" she hesitated, then continued, feeling the sincerity of the woman sitting there as though it were a physical presence. "He's very conservative. And he's not… well he really doesn't seem to enjoy sex. Not like Peter and… your husband." She blushed deeply, her face suddenly burning like fire.

Anna laughed softly, patted Marily's arm. "I know what you mean. Hans was the same way. I don't suppose either of them bothered to tell you, but I joined the club before Hans did. Our marriage was on the point of breaking up, Marily, and then we found this. I used to be a legal secretary in the same building with Peter. He introduced me to the club, then arranged for Hans to come in. They have become very good friends, as you can see." She smiled and tilted her beautiful head and looked at the two men, standing tall above everyone in the room, laughing and joking with each other.

Marily couldn't find words to express her gratitude to the lovely Anna. She couldn't believe that she could ever come to be as self-assured, as self-contained as Anna was. She could find nothing to say to her; she felt that anything she might try would sound stupid and awkward. She remained silent and listened to Vivian.

"Marily, Marily where are you you lovely creature come and you are first no matter what anyone says about anything and the small amount of cheating that I'm doing she's our very special guest and…" She babbled on, coming to Marily and holding out a box in front of her with small pieces of white paper, folded, inside it. "Take your pick, Marily, but just one and then we'll announce the number and then we'll watch the man scramble for the matching odd or even." She smiled at Marily.

Marily's trembling hand reached into the shallow depth of the box and took a piece of paper from it. She didn't know what to do, what was expected of her. She got the general idea that she was to read the number as Vivian went on talking, never stopping, never seeming to need to breathe like other humans did. "… Read it, dear, for all to hear." She ran down and stood silently waiting for Marily to read the number from the slip of paper.

"Thirty-three," Marily whispered, frightened of the number for some reason, alarmed that she was suddenly the center of attention.

"Thirty-three, thirty-three," Vivian sang, turning back into the crowd and passing among them the box so that they could draw. Marily turned to Anna for help and an explanation.

"Oh, you've never done this before. I forgot. Vivian or Peter should have explained it to you. You have an odd number, so that whoever, rather whichever, man gets the even number in the thirties will be your companion for the rest of the evening. We're just trying this system. We used to draw only once in the beginning, then return the slips to the box. But, for this week-end we're trying something new. I think I like it."

Anna sat, smiled at her, and opened her own slip of paper. "I'm very lucky, Marily. I got number forty-five."

"I don't think that I can just be selected by a strange man and… just leave with him in front of all these people," Marily said, taken aback by the brashness of the whole idea.

"Oh, no, it's not done that way. You'll find that each room upstairs is numbered, say ten, twenty, thirty, etc. You just go there when you feel like it. Excuse me, I want to talk to Hans." She smiled, stood and walked away.

Marily knew that she was going home. She suddenly felt the overpowering need to be away, to get her thoughts in order. She stood, deciding not to say anything to anyone, just to slip out the back door and go to her own house. She just wasn't up to what was expected of her. She got as far as the kitchen. Peter stopped her by taking her arm.

"Let me get your drink for you, love," he said, taking her empty glass from her hand. He went around the small breakfast nook and opened the refrigerator and took the full pitcher from it, poured her glass full to the brim, did the same with his own, then handed hers to her. He kissed her lightly, just brushing her lips with his. "Marily, we have everyone here this week, which makes it a little crowded, so I volunteered your house. I felt that you might be more at ease there so thirty is your bedroom. O.K.?"

"Peter, I… can't. I mean… I was just going home now. I… I don't know how I'm ever going to face Fred." Suddenly she was crying, then just as suddenly she was in his arms, against him, he protecting and soothing her with his hands and strength.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I guess we're too much for you, coming all at once – no pun intended. I'll take you home," he said, leading her out the door. He took her to her own house. Marily couldn't stop crying. Peter soothed her and helped her into bed, kissing and touching and patting her; he placed her head gently on a pillow and told her that he would be back, for her to just relax, and finish her drink. He kissed her and left.

Marily lighted a cigarette, sipped at her drink and her tears gradually subsided. She put out the cigarette, then sank into the bed and dozed. She was awakened by deep throated laughter, heard the tread of feet in the hallway, then looked up to see Peter standing in the door, his smile showing to perfection his white teeth; his arm was around the shoulders of Roy.

"Marily, look who I brought you. A real prince." They advanced toward her. She shrank back into the bed, a feeling of utter hopelessness overpowering her. She had thought that Peter liked her, had even hoped that he loved her as she did him, and now she was horrified that he would bring in another man, to her bedroom, to enjoy her as he had done only a short while ago. She was suddenly deeply hurt.

Peter knew instinctively what was going through her mind. He went directly to her, took her in his arms in one sweeping gesture and kissed her profoundly. She responded without wanting to, clinging to him, his hot mouth burning hers, wanting to hold him so tight that he would never get away.

Marily soon was lost, caught up in the ecstasy of Peter's love. He felt her need for re-assurance, knew that he alone could provide it for her. He held her close to him, kissed her mouth, her eyes, her nose and fondled her breasts. He did find time to motion to Roy to get undressed and into the bed.

Marily felt the bed sag on the opposite side from where Peter's weight was, but for some reason – because Peter was there and was holding and kissing her – it made no difference. She had begun to feel the fires inside her building again, had started to need badly Peter's hard love inside her. Peter eased himself from her arms, gently and with concern, and said, smoothing his hand over her forehead, "Marily, be good to Roy. He is a good friend." He saw her brow wrinkle, knew that she was becoming frightened again, so he said, "Roy, hold her, she's a bit shy this first time."

Marily felt herself being taken into the arms of the total stranger who was in her bed. She wanted to resist, to cry out, but Peter was asking her to do this, for him. She couldn't sort it all out in her mind, but she knew that she would do whatever he wanted her to do, so she let herself relax in the arms of Roy. She was instantly aware of his nakedness, against her, the length of her legs; she could feel the hair on him. It bristled against her.

"Kiss her, Roy," Peter said, softly, withdrawing himself totally from her.

Roy did. He took Marily to him, then put his mouth onto hers, pressed his lips into her and ran his hand down her back, over the white mounds, the naked buttocks, delighted in the softness of them. He wanted to rush himself into her, to kiss and fuck and plow and pump, but he held himself back, followed the advice Peter had given him on the way over. He took it slowly, exploring every delicious curve and crevice of her, from her neck to her thighs.

For both of them, suddenly and together, they realized that Peter was gone. He had been there for Marily, his presence lending credence to what she was doing because she was doing it more to please him than for her own pleasure, watching and guiding her. For Roy he had been there as a warning to him to follow his instructions and not frighten or scare the girl. Then, he was gone. Neither of them had heard him leave or had been aware of his departure. Realizing this fact, they laughed together, Marily shyly, then more forcefully, along with Roy.

Roy wasted no more time. He knew that Marily had accepted him, wanted him, so he moved his body onto her and began to kiss her in earnest, his mouth pressed into her, his tongue over her lips and between her teeth and into her mouth and back, then withdrew it slowly, almost all the way out and felt her hold on it, her refusing to let it get away from her. He ran it in and out of her mouth, gently, then more quickly, and delighted in her response.

Marily felt his hardening on her stomach, felt his tongue probing impatiently into her mouth. She had taken it, liked the feeling of it, and sucked it into her. Then he had started to withdraw it, she felt, and that she did not want, could not give up the pleasure it gave her. She caught it with her teeth before he could deny her its pleasure. She moved her body slightly upward, pressing her soft white stomach into his rising prick, loving the hardness of it.

Roy squeezed and massaged and tore at her buttocks, felt her squirm and raise up to press into his ever lengthening hardness. He pushed down into her stomach, wanting to slip into her soft pink cunt, but knowing that he would not, could not, as yet. He moved his mouth from her, kissed her chin, then moved his body slightly so that his head was above her beautiful, firm breasts. He kissed one, then the other, then licked them with his tongue, feeling the sensations that he caused there flicking into her body then out again to the surface and onto his.

He kissed and bit and slavered like a child at her tits, then put his mouth over the nipple, sucked and worked it with his tongue until he felt it spring to life, bursting to hardness and rigidity against his tongue. He worked at both of them, could feel the quivering that his hot mouth caused.

Marily could not control her feeling, her response to Roy. His sucking and biting and teasing of her breasts, then her nipples, sent strange, uncontrolled electric pleasure through her. She wanted to push them into him, make him take the whole of them in his mouth to bite and suck and burn her. She grabbed his head with her hands and looked at him, at the top of his busy moving head. His hair was streaked with silver gray and it was soft and silky under her hands. She loved the color of it, the softness of it, and the pleasure it gave her to push him onto her. She moved her hands to his muscled back, ran them the whole length of it, then back to his head. She felt his pole like prick on her stomach, wanted to spread her legs and suck it into her burning cunt. But, she didn't want to be forward, to have him think that she was like a common whore. She would just be patient and make herself enjoy and appreciate his busy mouth on her breasts.

Roy moved his mouth from her breasts, moved his head down her body and kissed the softness of her stomach where only a minute ago the hardness of his prick had lain. Her hands still pressed down on his head, felt like butterflies on his back, and he continued on, taking small bites of her flesh in his teeth and feeling her rising up to meet his every action, kissed her lower stomach, just above the soft mound of her vagina. He liked the feel of her soft, sparse pubic hair on his chin.

He took her legs, moved them apart, and moved his mouth down to her cunt. He spread the soft, hair-lined lips with his fingers, then probed gently around them with his tongue. He was awarded by the pressure of her hands on his head. They drew him forward with all their strength. He pushed his tongue on into the soft pinkness, then withdrew it and started the same process all over again. He heard her moan, starting low inside her chest then traveling through her, somehow emitting itself from her throat and changing into a higher note of sensual anticipation.

He turned his body upside down, never taking his mouth from her tender opening, until his feet stuck above her head. Then he raised his head slightly, moved his arms so that they were under her hips and his hands were cupping the smooth flesh of her buttocks, pulling them slightly apart, and lifted her crotch to his face. Then, felt her hands move teasingly over his own buttocks, then slide around to his balls, kneading them, almost causing him to cry out in pleasure, then the softness of them closing over his lust-hardened cock. His pleasure knew no bounds when he felt the smooth rubbery head being hesitantly probed at by her tongue. He did not force his cock into her, but let her get used to it, to slowly feed it into her own mouth. He kept his own tongue busy inside her soft vaginal slit, in and out, in and out, then took the soft clitoris with his teeth.

She bucked upwards toward his mouth, then, with a soulful groan, sucked his cock into her own. He kept hold of the clitoris, maneuvering it with his teeth and tongue, and pushed his hips slowly so that she would take all of his huge throbbing cock into the warm, wet confines of her mouth.

Marily wiggled and moved her hips under him with the first realization that he was kissing her pussy. She was not surprised when he moved his body so that his prick was in her face. She had been silently wishing that he would allow her to kiss him there, but had certainly had no intention of doing so without his asking. She was aware of the movement of his body, the turning of it, so that she opened her eyes and saw the hugeness of his prick there for her. She placed her hands on his buttocks, which were hard and muscular, so unlike her soft female ones that it seemed to be nothing but knots of muscles. She ran her hand over it, down the crack of it, then moved them around to his balls. She enjoyed the feel of them in her hands. They felt like tender, soft eggs to her. Then she had touched his large, pulsating organ, had squeezed it in both her hands, and had not managed to cover even part of it. She looked at the large, purple head and saw a speck of moisture seeping through it and had wanted it in her mouth, wanted to enjoy the taste of it with the tip of her tongue. She kissed it, slowly, then guided the head into her mouth, over her tongue and between her teeth. It was too large for her. Her jaws were sore, used as they had been by Peter and Hans, so she had stopped it there, only a third of it in her mouth yet still touching the back of her throat. She moaned softly around it and began a gentle sucking motion with her lips.

Then she had felt the delicious biting of her clitoris. It had caused pains of pleasure to shoot into her, to consume her to the secret depths of her vagina. She felt his insistent push on into her mouth and she tried to accommodate him, had opened and let the huge pole be pushed into her throat. Then suddenly without warning, her loins were on fire from the probing and biting by Roy's hot, wet mouth and he was moving his prick in and out of her mouth and her arms were wrapped around his hips drawing him into her and wanting him to stay there forever.

Roy could never in his wildest dreams imagine that she could be as good as she was. He loved eating her tight little cunt, sliding his rough tongue into it, all the way, feeling the pressure and the clean, sweet tasting moisture from the lips and the walls of her pink, hot pussy. He had been a little surprised when she had taken the whole of his prick inside her mouth, had enjoyed the tightness as it slipped further and further into her throat, felt the constriction of pressure on the head of it until it suddenly slipped in, in and down, just as he nibbled and chewed at her clitoris. He began to move his hips, back and forward, then felt her rising pelvis slapping up wildly into his face, he had moved his prick in faster and faster, then slowed his motions when he felt her arms tightly encircle his ass.

He increased his licking and biting and sucking of her cunt, and his own motion in and out of her mouth, until he felt her building up to orgasm. And suddenly it was there for him too, in his balls, a tightening and preparedness to explode. He lashed into her with his tongue, probing and withdrawing, and his hands worked at her anus, tearing and probing and working deep into the rubbery tightness, and he increased his plunging into her until he felt her ready, felt the nerves inside her collect and draw themselves together for the final sparking of the fuse, then he jerked his body violently and moved one leg over her head and pounded into her mouth with all his might and force and bit and chewed and sucked her cunt. He felt her whole body tense and come up to meet his at the same time he felt the need to come. Then it was there. He ground his tongue deep into her and his prick plunged all the way down her tender throat and he ground down on that, and her whole body gave an earthshaking tremble and jerked in wild spasms and then he came, the release erupting from him, seeming to come from all his muscles, the shooting out of him of all the strength that he was sure he would ever possess.

Marily was going wild with his tongue lashing into her soft, tight cunt and the hugeness of his overly large cock in her mouth, filling it absolutely full, then into her throat and suddenly he was moving faster, in and out of her, shoving his prick all the way down into her. She had felt the movement of him so fast that she had not realized what was happening until her head was between his legs and he pushed even more of his hard pulsating prick into the small passage of her throat. Suddenly her insides had gathered together for the mad relief that she knew must come and she could not help but move toward the tongue that was inflicting such painful pleasure on her. Her mouth was being used cruelly, she felt that her throat was being torn apart, and then he had plunged more fully into her, then wildly until she came, then he had done so immediately, filling her sucking mouth with his hot sperm, burning and sliding over and down her throat. Her pleasure was ten fold that she had ever experienced before. Her whole body had rocked with it, jolt after jolt, until she had fully flowed, deep within herself, and had the welcome relief that she now lay in and enjoyed.

She felt the slow softening of Roy's cock against her tongue, then his slow movement upwards, then the slippery withdrawal of it from her mouth, over her lips, the large head seeming reluctant to quit its deep pleasure. Then it was gone, away from her contact, and the bed moved and she felt his arms on her body, his hands moving along her and stopping at her breasts, then his head was above her and he came softly to her lips with his own and kissed her gently, then lay his head down beside hers.

"Wonderful," he whispered. "Wonderful."

"Yes," Marily agreed. "Wonderful."

"Put your hand on my cock," he whispered, guiding it there as he spoke.

Marily felt the delightful softness of him, still wet from her saliva and his sperm, and she let her hand rest on his cock. It felt wonderful to her. She squeezed it, lightly, then to her surprise it responded to her caress and hardened just a bit. She continued squeezing it, each time feeling it become harder and harder, and he began to kiss her, first her shoulder, then her neck, then he raised himself up and kissed her mouth.

Before long it was all there again, her need and desire. His hands were on her breasts, his tongue filling her mouth, her own little cunt undergoing movements of its own, opening and closing fish-like down between her thighs. He moved his hand down her body, between her thighs and ran his fingers into her, moving the lips apart. She moaned softly again and moved her hips up to meet the rough fingers, but he did not push them into her fully.

"What do you want, Marily?" he asked, breathing heavily.

"You in me, Roy," she breathed, realizing that she had spoken his name for the first time.

"Then ask me to fuck you," he said.

"Do it, Roy. Do it. Fuck me. Oh, God, fuck me," she said, the lewd words exciting her more.

Roy brushed the softness of her pubic hair aside and parted the lips of her vagina with his fingers, then had her guide the head of his hardened cock to the opening he had made there for it. She had grabbed him frantically, her nails digging into the sides of his cock and unerringly put the head into her soft, waiting slit. Then she moaned. Roy pushed his hips forward slightly, just slipping the head past the warm, clasping lips, and Marily groaned as though she were being split apart. He kissed her, probing his tongue into her mouth. She took it immediately and sucked it deep into her, then he shoved in further with his cock, about half of it, and she moaned under him again. He gently eased it in, all the way, then rested inside her, throbbing against her deep insides, enjoying the comforting closeness of her warm, wet walls throbbing around his prick. He kissed her.

Marily had felt the huge wedge being forced into her, knew that he was stretching her beyond reason, but realized that she could take him, all of him into her, that she loved the feeling, that she could never be able to get enough of him. She knew that he was bigger than either Peter or Hans and she had to admit, as she gnashed and sucked his tongue, that he was better, was not so impatient, knew more than either of them did. She began to burn inside as he slowly pulled out of her, felt the million little fires that were ignited within her cunt, inflamed by the vacuum he left there.

Roy withdrew from her, then eased his solidly hard prick back into her, pushed deep down into her belly, imagining that he could feel all the heat of her stomach resting on top of his hardened rod of flesh. Then, patiently, he started a rocking motion, in and out, that he knew would bring her quickly to a demanding need of him, a need that she would not be able to fight.

He did nothing more than that, just pushed his big cock into her, the head's largeness and softness, gently opening the walls for the rest of his passage, then drew out, then just as gently pushed in again. He kissed her, massaged her back and squeezed her curved mounds with his hands, then released them and ran his hands back up her as he withdrew.

Marily's pleasure was indescribable. She loved the coming into her by him, his hardness pushing relentlessly into her, then not resting but withdrawing, his rhythm in her cunt matched by the magic of his hands on her back and buttocks. She wallowed in the pleasure it gave her, sucked gently on his tongue and took it deep within her as he pushed in his prick, then sucked it as he withdrew its wetness again. Her body began to change, slowly, a dam of need rose deep in her belly with his every plunge and withdrawal. She began to move under him, to help him slide more easily into her and to satisfy her own rapidly increasing lust.

Roy felt her moving under him, knew that her rate of breathing was increasing slowly, and he accommodated her ever so slightly by moving in and out just a bit faster, nothing that she would notice he was doing, but faster just the same. Suddenly she bucked under him, threw her cunt into his hard prick as he was withdrawing from her. He knew that her moment had come, that she was ready for the total assault on her tight little pussy that he planned to give her. He pushed his pole-hard prick all the way into her slightly, then withdrew. He repeated the same thing twice more, was satisfied with her happy groan of pleasure under him, then withdrew his mouth from hers and asked into her ear, "Do you like it?"

"Yes! Yes, oh yes!" Marily moaned moving under him and clawing at his back.

"Then ask me to fuck you, ask me to fuck you," he encouraged her gently.

"Do, Roy, do fuck me," she cried, thrusting onto him, skewering her burning cunt up the full length of his rock hard cock.

Roy slipped his hands down her back, between the cleft of her smooth ass, fingered her rectum and then continued down, over her thighs, locked his arms, under her knees and raised her legs up over her, past her stomach and moved himself up slightly, and directed her legs up his arms, almost to his shoulders, then moved into her, deliberately withholding some of his hard prick from her sucking cunt.

"Oh, oooh," she moaned under him, every crevice of her vagina feeling filled to overflowing with his hardness.

Roy ordered her to ask for it, to beg him for his prick, as much for his own pleasure as to get her to open up somewhat, to cast off some of her holding back that he had seen her display the first part of the evening and further when he had joined her in bed.

"Fuck me, oh please fuck me," she responded, into the hollow of his neck, flailing her head back and forth, pulling and tearing at his back.

Sensing her desperation, Roy tightened his muscles, dug his toes into the bed, and plunged into her, fully, thrusting his hard pole into the innermost secret part of her, felt her pussy tighten around his hardness, then relax and gobble the head of his throbbing cock deep inside, then close warmly around it. Marily screamed under him, her hands stopped their drawing and clawing at his well-muscled back, then she lay still, sucking in deep breaths of air.

He moved out, gently, and then plunged back in slowly, only half-way; her hands returned to his back, her legs stopped quivering, and he readied himself again, slowly pushed into her, felt the same delightful sensation of going into her deeply and the fitting around the head of his huge prick the very, very before unpenetrated part of her, and she responded, again her hands pulling him toward and into her.

"Beg! Beg me, Marily," he told her.

Marily would have eaten live coals to satisfy her need. She was assaulted by desire originating in her cunt, then from her breasts, her mouth, her buttocks and her legs. She thrust upwards at him, begged, "Fuck me. Fuck me with your delicious cock, fuck me in the cunt with it, darling… please… oh please!"

Roy rewarded her by grinding into her, emphatically, each time she shrieked out one of the obscene words that were so new to her. He could feel himself building up, knew that she was, so he ground down, deep into her, and she yelled "Oooh, fuck my cunt," and he plunged, grinding, then withdrew and she cried, "Screw me, fuck me deep. Oh, oooh, Roy, fuck me, oh," and he did. He bored into her deeper and harder and plowed and ground and he felt her movement deep inside, the whole of her cunt sucking and sucking against his hard prick and he rammed into her, and knew that she was coming and then felt her liquid spread out of her, onto the head of his prick and cause him to cum and he heightened his muscles and plunged, and tore into her and then the wonderful feeling of release came to him, his balls tightened and then released their semen, rushing it through his throbbing prick into her, drowning her with the outward rush of hotness. He ground and twisted and tore at her flesh with his hands until he was exhausted, until the last of his hot semen had spewed out of him, then relaxed atop her soft body.

"Thank you, Roy," Marily said to him between her gasps of satisfaction, her soft hands resting on his back and on his head.

"Don't thank me, beautiful," he said, kissing her breasts lightly. "Let's sleep. The party has really just started."

He slept. Marily lay awake, enjoying the feeling of contentment that she had, dreamed lazily of nothing, tried to feel guilt for what she had done, been doing, but she could not. She smiled to herself, knew that ahead of her lay fulfillment and joy as she had never imagined. Eventually, she fell asleep, a deep, deep easy sleep surrounding her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The party continued the next day. Partners were selected for Saturday, then each of them wandered off at their own convenience, some of them sat about and talked and some enjoyed the sun of a surprisingly beautiful day in the patio. Vivian directed a good breakfast of tomato juice, steak and eggs and eye opening drinks.

Marily had to admire Vivian, who never seemed to tire of talking, but who got things done such as the planning of the party, serving of breakfast and sharing in the festivities all without, Marily imagined, ever closing her mouth. Before the sun was half-way into the sky on Saturday Marily had relaxed in the constant flow of words from Vivian, found them somehow soothing and realized with a start that she would miss them if they stopped.

Marily did not dream that her next partner would be one that she knew already, had been with already, Hans. She was startled when he smiled at her, showed her his slip of paper, because she was talking to Anna. Her face reddened, her tongue became locked in her mouth. Anna smiled her assurance that it mattered not to her, then told the both of them that she and Peter were to enjoy the day. Hans sat between them, holding Anna's hand and talking to her and it occurred to Marily that there was true love, that she hoped that someday she could appreciate Fred as much as either of them seemed to appreciate each other. But she was doubtful. She thought of the 'love making' she and Fred had every Tuesday and she shuddered. He would never consent to anything like this. She just knew it. What then, she wondered, was he to think of her if he ever found out about her week-end. She felt certain that he would divorce her, would hold her and probably the rest of them to public ridicule and scorn.

Then she surprised herself. She suddenly had the feeling that if that were to be the case, she should by all means make the most of the two days she had left. She looked at Hans, gave him a smile that promised all the delights that he had ever participated in or dreamed about, and ignored Anna. Hans' response was immediate. He excused the both of them to Anna, then took Marily's arm and led her out of the patio, into her backyard and to her house. She felt no shame or remorse whatever for all the things she had done with these three strange men. In fact, she found herself looking forward to more and more of it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Marily worked like a Trojan Monday. She had induced the dentist, her last partner of the party, to help her move the furniture in the bedroom back to its former position, then she had seen him to the door, then carefully tucked his card away in her purse. He had promised her an amazing discount on her dental work, and would offer the same to Fred later in the week, he told her, as soon as he was initiated a member. As soon as he had disappeared through the hedge of the patio, she had started her work. She dusted, vacuumed, changed the bed clothes, even the pads on the beds, and washed and sprayed a heavy film of air freshener through the house.

She had paused in her work to have a bit of lunch, heard a car pull into the driveway next door, and had run to the window to see if it could be Peter. It wasn't. It was Vivian.

Vivian turned and waved to her, then headed in her direction. Marily opened the door for her, tried to smile and wondered if she knew that she had hoped it was Peter. She did.

"It's just me. Wipe the disappointment off your face, lovely, and let's have some coffee. I've been out laying the groundwork for Fred he's very cute, Marily, I don't think that you appreciate that fact and the fact that all men, every last one of them have the potential of becoming good lovers and husbands and they just have to be taught can we have a bite of lunch if you have anything to make and I'll outline the plan for you and we have considered your situation here and there is little of it that depends on you because you'll be nervous and you might ruin it all and we don't want that." Vivian paused for a split second and then continued full force, outlining the plan that Marily felt she was somehow missing, could not completely follow the flow of words that included general comments about everything under the sun with the plan thrown in. Generally, however, she got the idea. All she had to do was calm herself until Tuesday, then set the first part of it in motion. They would do the rest.

Marily practiced until time for picking Fred up at the airport. She was so nervous that she could hardly drive, fearful that something would go wrong, knowing that if it did it would be her downfall, her disgrace. She parked the car in the lot at the airport, then sat for a couple of minutes and breathed deeply. It all started now for her. She walked in measured steps to the gate and stood, mute, and stared straight ahead and waited for Fred.

He came through the gate smiling, and went directly to her. He kissed her on the lips without touching any part of her body, not putting an arm around her, not drawing her to him, just a kiss. Her nerve faltered, almost fled completely, then he began talking and she regained some of her self assurance.

"Everything went ideally, Marily. I'm on my way up, I can feel it now, I know it now. I didn't want you to worry, so I didn't tell you about my doubts. No, but I had them. Meeting the head of one of the world's largest corporations was just about too much, but I carried it off beautifully. Not a hitch." He helped her into the car, then went to the driver's side and slid in, started the motor and they were headed in the direction of their home before he spoke again. "And how was your weekend, Marily? Did you enjoy the party? Tell me what all you've been doing while I was away."

Marily felt an impulse to jump out of the car, to dash herself along the highway and thereby end it all, but she couldn't of course. Then she thought about just blurting it all out, telling him how she had for the first time enjoyed and appreciated the fact that she was a woman. But, she couldn't do that either. That left her with only one choice, to set the plan in motion. She took a deep breath, turned on the seat to face him, and talked.

"Darling, the party was delightful. Vivian is very busy and she invited me for dinner Friday night and I went and she had cooked all frozen food, but she had been out all day, so I suppose that it doesn't matter that much because it was good anyway. Then, the other guests started arriving and they have such lovely friends, all of whom I want you to meet, and we talked and got acquainted and… well, it was delightful." She stopped and took a deep breath, studying his profile to see how he was taking the whole thing and thinking of herself that she sounded like Vivian.

"Good," Fred told her, "We need to get to know some people. After all, we've been there for two months and it's time we got out a little, got to know some of our neighbors well. I like us to get involved." He smiled at her.

Marily had to admit to herself that she was already 'involved'. She plunged ahead, "Fred, I accepted an invitation to a meeting tonight, a discussion, from Peter. I mean that he's in charge of it – it's about civil rights that he's very interested in – and Vivian has so many clubs and tonight she stays home and I knew that you wouldn't want to go out just getting back and all and she says that you should come over and visit with her… well, I took it upon myself to make all the arrangements for both our evenings."

"Fine, Marily. But, I don't want you getting involved too much in any civil rights movements. That would look bad for me at the company. You do understand that?" He looked at her to see if she understood it.

"Oh, yes, Fred, I understand your position. I thought about it when it was brought up and at first I hesitated, declined, really, but I think that they understand. It's only one time anyway and if I think… well, I can evaluate the whole thing and be careful not to get us out on a limb. You'll see."

"Good, Marily, just don't get upset and say something that you might later regret, or that will get back to the company. It'll be fine, I'm sure."

"Fred… I told Vivian that you could get acquainted, too. I mean she wants to know you and so I thought it would be a good idea for you to go over and talk to her. She's having a friend in, a beautiful and intelligent woman, Anna Shiller, who's married to a man, Hans, who is German, and he's in business here and… well, I thought it would be a good idea so I promised you for the evening." She had spilled the whole thing, not gradually as she had planned, but it was out, it was there, she had said it all. She waited for his reply.

"Good, Marily, I think you've done very well. Sounds great." He swung the car into the driveway, then into the garage and got his luggage out of the trunk, carried it into the house. Marily couldn't quite believe that everything had gone as smoothly as it had. Now she told herself, all she had to do was hang on through the evening and trust the others to do their part.

CHAPTER NINE

Marily was extremely nervous that night approaching Peter's house. She glanced sideways at Fred as he rang the bell, her mind a complete blank about introductions, the proper thing to say when she introduced her husband to Peter whom she knew so well.

Peter answered the door, took the whole thing out of her hands. He grabbed Fred's hand and pumped it as though he were a long lost friend, pulled him into the house and made all the introductions and said that he was late, and that he and Marily would run right along, that he was sure Fred would be happy with Vivian and Anna. Marily felt he would be also. She was amazed at the way Fred's eyes took in the whole of the beautiful Anna, as though he were hypnotized by her. She left with Peter, looked back at Fred who was still watching Anna and wished that she could somehow manage to see the whole thing happening. Surprisingly, she felt no jealously whatever.

"How nice your wife is we enjoyed knowing her so much while you were away on that horrible business trip leaving her all alone and it was nice to have her here and get to know at least the feminine half of you and…" she babbled, putting a drink in his hand that he didn't even realize was a drink and he watched Anna and thought that he had never seen such a beautiful woman in his life. She had an animal magnetism that seemed to overpower every thing else in the room, that seemed to make even the nonsense of Vivian acceptable. Anna smiled at him, her lips glistening, her green eyes sparkling, and seemed to agree with him his thoughts which weren't even complete thoughts in his own mind. "… and I have to put little Suzie down she's upstairs in her room waiting for me to say good-night so I'll just run right up and you two get to know each other," Vivian's voice floated down at them from the top of the stairs.

"She'll be up there some time Fred," Anna spoke softly, "Let's go out to the patio?"

Fred stood, as she did, and she took his hand and led him into the patio. He swore at himself for being such a lunk head, for not having anything to say to her, for not being able to do anything but go along with what she suggested; he suddenly wanted to assert his manhood, to take her to the patio rather than be led like a child. But, they were there and he could smell her perfume and he had to keep himself from reaching out and touching her, from grabbing onto her and pulling her to him.

Anna turned and deliberately touched him, felt the electric spark that shot from him, and smiled to herself. She had never had such an easy time of seducing a man, she thought, and said, to put him at ease somewhat, "It is a beautiful night, isn't it? So romantic, so… peaceful. Do you feel romantic, Fred?" She murmured, moving so that his arm touched her hip, "I do."

Fred was fighting a losing battle with his conscience, his mind and all his morals. He had never before felt such earth shaking desire of anyone as the beautiful woman who had just issued an invitation to him. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't restrain himself, either. He grabbed for her, tried to find her lips with his, managed to kiss her chin, then did find her mouth and the sensation of her mouth against his made him weak, in the legs, and his breath almost left his body.

"Please, Fred, not so rough," she said, leaning her body against his. "I knew somehow you felt the same thing I did," she said, then kissed him, softly, pressing into him as she did so. Fred couldn't believe that he had her soft, plaint body in his arms and that she was kissing him, unlike he had ever been kissed before. He was afraid that he would crush her if he held her as tightly in his arms as he wanted to. She drew back from him, said, "Let's go to your house, Fred," and took his hand and led him across the patio, into his own and stopped and let herself be kissed again. She felt his hardness beginning between his legs, so she eased herself against it, felt him pull back from embarrassment.

"What… what about VIVIAN?" he stammered, panting.

"Vivian knows me very well. Don't worry about her." Anna whispered in his ear, then walked through the back door of his house and then stopped and said, "Fred, do you want to go to bed with me?"

Fred simply couldn't believe what his ears were hearing. He had, at a much younger age, felt the overpowering desire that he was experiencing now, but it had been a long time ago. His mother had always made him feel dirty just because he was a male, had reminded him over and over again that women were abused and taken advantage of by men until he had come to believe that that was so, that he was dirtying a woman just to think about having sex with her, debasing her to put his dirty hard tool into her. He had tried not to hurt Marily because she reminded him of his mother, the very soul of virginity and cleanliness and purity. He had tried to be careful with her, tried always and successfully to control himself and look after her too. Now, here he was with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and she was wanting him, not he was sure for the dirty, unclean things about man, but out of desire pure and simple that matched his own. He trembled from head to foot as he drew her to him and kissed her.

"Yes, yes," he managed to tell her, moving toward the bedroom.

Once there Anna set about her task with ease. She kissed him, held him closely to her, put her hand on the back of his head and pulled him forward to her, then touched his lips with her tongue, then opened his mouth and put her tongue inside, and marveled at his trembling body. She pushed him gently back from her and unbuttoned his shirt, kissed his shoulder, then his chest, and took the shirt off his back. She took his hands and directed them in the removal of her own blouse, then they kissed again, and Fred's hands moved with utter concern and gentility over her back.

Anna helped Fred to unfasten her bra, surprised that he couldn't and knowing that he had never done that for any woman before, caused her to slow her pace, to remember with whom she was dealing. She did it for him, guiding his fingers in the unhooking of the snap that held her bra. She saw his eyes bulge when he took in the beauty of her full, firm breasts, and she lifted one of his hands and placed it against one of them. Again she felt him tremble, so she took his head and moved it to her, then, still holding it firmly in her hands, guided his mouth to her nipple.

Fred kissed lightly at the soft pinkness of her breast, his hands on her hips and suddenly wanted all of her luscious softness in his mouth, wanted to stick and bite and tear at her, but he couldn't, instead sucked gently at the nipple, worked at it with his tongue.

Anna raised his head, looked into his eyes, and kissed him on the mouth. He put his tongue to her lips and she permitted him to enter her mouth with his tongue, then took it with her own and gently sucked at it, drawing him to her as she did so and felt his hardness that was acute press into her without hesitation. She gently moved him back, then unbuckled his belt, then unzipped the fly of his trousers, pushed them over his hips and down his legs. She straightened, moved his hands around her hips and put his hands on the zipper of her skirt. He did as she bade him, and her skirt was suddenly on the floor, around her feet. She stepped out of it, then reached to him and started to remove his shorts. He stiffened and she stopped, afraid of breaking the spell. Instead, she helped him to remove her panties.

Fred looked at her nudeness in sincere shock. He had never in all his twenty-five years seen a woman naked. His eyes traveled from her lovely face to her magnificent breasts, firm and pointing upwards and crowned with a pinkness that he had never seen before. Then his glance took in her stomach, flat and smooth and soft looking and slightly muscled, ending in the perfect V at her crotch, her soft slightly less black pubic hair laying silken and downy, then to her wonderfully full shaped thighs and perfect legs. He gasped with the totality of her, the richness of her beauty and the quality that she retained nude that he had first felt about her.

Anna laughed softly, moved against him and kissed him, taking his tongue into her mouth again, working with it, using her hands on his back, across his shoulders and his head. She felt the throbbing of his big cock against her, then laughed when she moved her body gently away from his and saw the evil looking one-eyed thing standing straight up between them. "Your undershorts are not serving their purpose," she told him, sliding them over his hips and down his legs. She could feel the goose bumps, the trembling of his legs as she removed the shorts. She took his large throbbing prick in her hand and kissed the head of it. Fred gasped at her unashamed familiarity.

She laughed again softly, then eased herself onto the bed, took his hand and drew him down alongside her. Fred reached out to turn out the lamp, she put a hand over his and said, "No, please. Let's see each other." He hesitated, then turned to her hot with passion, and drew her to him. They kissed, long and passionately, Fred filling her mouth with his tongue, probing into her deeply, enjoying and loving the treatment she gave his tongue. She gently moved his head to her breasts, and he kissed and licked and sucked and felt her raise and push against him. He gently bit her on the nipple and continued to do so, working his tongue over it, then taking it in his teeth, feeling at the same time her hands on his back and head.

Anna moved his head to her mouth, kissed him long and hard, felt her breasts being massaged and her now hard nipples twisted and rolled between his fingers, she guided his head over her breasts to her stomach. He kissed it flatly, his lips pressed into her and sent hot spears of delight to her cunt. She spread her legs and moved his head down to her thighs, and he kissed and bit the top part of her legs. She guided his head between her legs but he would not put his mouth on her vagina. "Kiss it, Fred," she pleaded gently, moving her hips up slightly and rotating the soft hair-lined pussy right in front of his gaping face as she pressed down on his head with her hands.

He shook his head slightly but would not look up at her. She lifted his head, pulled his mouth back to hers, kissed him, bit and sucked his tongue then moved her hand down to his hard throbbing prick. She worked her thumb over the soft head of it, then pulled the foreskin up and down and caused him to move violently in her hand. She gripped it firmly with her fingers digging into the side of it and pulled so that he brought his body around and lay with his legs turned in the opposite direction than hers. She moved his head back down the length of her body and placed it between her thighs, then slipped her soft red lips over the head of his cock. He moaned, then touched her cunt lips with his tongue. Anna sucked at him, just the head of his prick, and with each probing of her tongue at the small opening, his tongue worked more quickly at her vaginal lips. She moved her hands around his ass, which felt more slim than her own Hans', and reached between his legs and rolled his balls in her hands, then moved further down on his ever hardening and lengthening prick until it filled the whole of her mouth.

Fred couldn't believe what was happening to him. He delighted in the softness of her stomach, the firmness of her breasts and reveled in the ecstasy of kissing, for the first time, into the soft pink slit of a beautiful woman's vagina. He hadn't been able to at first, when she had wanted him to, but she had taken him into her mouth, without hesitation, and he wanted to do the same for her, feeling somehow that it was right, that it was not the dirty thing that he had been led to believe. He probed the soft flanges of her and wallowed in the delight it gave him. He moved his tongue deeper in, felt her put her hands on his ass, then take his balls and cradle them lightly in her soft hands. He felt like rejoicing.

He licked more violently at her, knew that he was exciting her because of the movement of her hips, and then his tongue felt her clitoris. He moved it upwards, causing her to moan and take more of his hard prick into her mouth, so he worked it around with his tongue, causing her to thrust upwards so that his whole mouth was suddenly slapped into her soft wetness and bore in, sliding his tongue in as far as it would go, enjoyed the pressure that she exerted on it, and without realizing it, pushed his prick further into her throat, received a slight hurt from it because of the restricting tightness suddenly clamping around it. He tried to withdraw it, but she pulled him further into her mouth by her pressure on his ass, so he relaxed and further explored with his tongue his new discovery.

Fred moved his hands to her wonderfully shaped hips and spread her apart so that his tongue had greater access to her. He felt her own fingers on his rectum and he touched her gently, then tried to push his finger into the rubbery tissue, was momentarily stopped, not wanting to force her and bring pain to her, then continued and worked his finger into the tight resisting hole and pushed his tongue full hilt inside her and she squirmed and ground her hips under him.

Anna moved Fred's prick from her mouth because she felt him building up to cum. She took his head in her hands and moved it to her mouth, then maneuvered him so that his long, hard prick was between her legs. She moved her hands between them, took that tool in her hands and moved her lips aside and placed the head inside her, then moved ever so slightly upwards until the head of it was completely in, then stopped and kissed him. Fred moaned with delight.

"Fred," Anna whispered directly into his ear, flicking her tongue inside it and causing him to shiver, "I want you to fuck me."

Fred had never before heard a woman use that word. But somehow it didn't shock him because it sounded natural coming from Anna, indeed he could think of no other word that would have been more apt, more suitable for the occasion. Just her speaking the word excited him almost beyond the limits of his control and he pushed into her, causing her to cry out with pain. He stopped immediately and started to withdraw, but she said no, just rest where he was. He loved the feeling of her cunt walls around his hard prick, the heat seeming to come from the inside of her and caress his own burning desire. She pulled at his back with her hands and he eased on into her tight passage, felt the walls give slightly at the touch of the head of his prick, then waited until she pressured him again then continued, pushed all the way into her, and she moaned.

He rested there, pulsating and throbbing in her, wanting to move in and out and up into her, waiting for her to guide and tell him how to treat her. She did. She moved slightly away from him so that he slipped out of her slightly, then, shoved back, spearing herself on his prick. He immediately moved in, then out, and she took his rhythm and matched her own to it, helping him with every thrust, until he reached a crest, knew that he was going to have to empty his load within her hot readiness, and he moved suddenly, slamming himself into her more forcefully and she guided his arms up under her legs and moved them up until the upper part of him was resting on her and then he moved himself forward on his knees and pushed into her cunt with his hard cock and felt something give deep within her and he ground down and she groaned and clutched at his hips with her hands. He repeated the same thing three times, then lost all sense of what he was doing and pounded and rammed into her and ground into her and felt her flow against him and knew that for the first time in his life that he had made a woman have orgasm and then he felt his own quick coming orgasm building and then giving out and rushing from him and he ground and pounded and plunged until it was there, the most wonderful release he had ever known, rushing from him from every fiber of his being into the most secret parts of her. He spewed and ground out his semen into her and loved her violent movements against him, helping him reach the foremost peak of joy.

Then it was over, he rested in her, and she kissed him and rubbed his back and said, "That was beautiful, Fred, beautiful," and he agreed, not verbally but with his body, moving a little further into her. He kissed her beautiful face, her brow, her eyes and her nose and her mouth. He felt as though he had been transported to heaven. He felt completely at ease, did not feel the need to shower and clean himself as he had every time before, and marveled at himself.

"Fred, I must go. Really," Anna said, moving from beneath him. "I would like to meet you tomorrow for lunch, but I don't want to be here when Marily returns." She kissed his lips and then got out of the bed.

Fred hadn't thought of Marily. Now, hearing her name on the lips of that beautiful woman, he did think of her, tried to feel guilty about being unfaithful to her, but he couldn't. She had never in two years of marriage, been what Anna had been for him tonight. He was amazed by it all, the wonder of Anna. He couldn't take time to consider Marily. "We will have lunch together tomorrow, Anna," he heard himself promise, then began to dress himself. Suddenly he thought of what Marily had told him about Anna, that her husband was a nice, handsome man, and he said, "Anna, what about your husband, Hans?"

"What about him?" She smiled.

"Well… I mean us here and… but he'll never know, huh?" he laughed.

"Oh, yes. He will know. I will tell him. We have no secrets, Fred. None."

"You'll tell him? My God!" Fred exploded, his mind agog at all the trouble he was headed for.

"Fred, you're invited to a party this week-end. I was going to explain it to you tomorrow, but I suppose it would be best now. We want you to join the neighborhood club, both you and your wife, and we meet this week-end at my house. Where will we have lunch tomorrow?" She smiled warmly at him, then took his hand and led him out of the house, through the patio, across the patio to the Aiken house and they sat on the couch and sipped at a drink and waited for Vivian to come downstairs.

CHAPTER TEN

Fred was amazed that Vivian should still be upstairs, putting the daughter to rest for the evening. He looked at his watch, couldn't remember at what time he had left the house, to go to his own with Anna, decided that it didn't really matter. He sat and marveled at his own sexual powers, at the pleasure that Anna had given him and he apparently her, and watched Vivian descend the stairs without hearing what she babbled about.

And babble she did. For somewhat close to an hour she talked, Anna mumbling "Yes," or "No," or "Really?" occasionally. Fred didn't listen, couldn't have repeated anything the woman said, until she mentioned his name. His ears perked up, he tried to focus his mind on what she was saying. He was horrified. She was questioning Anna about him, what he had done in bed with her, how he had reacted. His face, once he realized what she was talking about, was suddenly hot and, he knew, red.

He was relieved for a minute when he heard a car pull into the driveway, certain that it would be Peter and Marily, then a near panic seized him when he considered what his wife would think unless Vivian shut her mouth. He forced a question, by speaking loudly, to change the course of her conversation: "How long has Peter been practicing law?"

"About five years he's had the same office here in Mill Valley but he's been out of school before that, say about one year, we looked for a place to live, to raise the child in nice surroundings and be near a good school, all things that one must consider when the yoke and pleasure of parenthood is looped about one's neck and…" She droned on, until the doorbell momentarily interrupted her. Not that she stopped speaking, she simply changed subjects, opened the door wide and caught a surprised Marily in her arms, then started talking to Peter about their daughter, some clever thing that she had said.

Fred stood when Marily entered the room, hoped that he was not blushing, tried to assume a calm and normal voice when he asked her, "How was the meeting?"

Marily was looking closely at Fred, putting him at a disadvantage. She wanted to see if there was any outward sign that he had participated in the plot for his happiness, but she could discern none. She had received a nod from Anna, meaning to her that the act had been completed, that he was well on his way to becoming a member, but she wanted to see it on his face. She couldn't. "Oh, Fred, it was wonderful. There is so much going on here, in this community you'd never believe. You would enjoy it very much. I know you would." She turned to Anna, then.

"What did you people talk about? Did you get acquainted?" Fred was undergoing mixed emotions. He had been afraid that talkative Vivian would let the cat out of the bag, but now that his wife was talking, he feared for a moment that she would know how to get any information that she desired from another woman. Then, when he heard Anna answering his Marily, he knew that the former was too bright, too intelligent, to give anything away. He relaxed. Shortly, Peter came and maneuvered him out to the kitchen, mixed both of them a drink over Fred's protestations, and talked.

Marily didn't know what to say to Fred once they were alone. She had no fear that he had been told anything about her weekend just past, but she wanted him to tell her how he had felt, how he had gotten along with Anna and Vivian. She didn't know that the plans had been modified, that both women had felt that the two of them might be a bit much for him, coming all at once. She said nothing, however, but she did ignore the disarrayed bed, hurriedly turned back the covers and pulled the sheets back, trusting that he wouldn't remember or think about how he had left it. She felt a slight pang of jealously when she came to him, in bed, and he told her, "Marily, not tonight, O.K.? Let's forget about it for this week. The trip and all…"

She went to her own bed, lay down and smiled to herself. For the first time, even after the assurances from Anna, she knew that Fred was undergoing a change of character, that he was, quietly and unto himself, thinking about her for the first time in a long time. She went to sleep as soon as she heard his soft snore.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

As the week-end approached, Marily became more and more nervous. Fred seemed to be changing every day, almost right in front of her eyes. He had purchased a couple of bottles of liquor, had mixed the two of them a drink each evening. That in itself was amazing, but the most fantastic thing to her was that he kissed her, passionately almost, both Wednesday and Thursday when he came home from work. He seemed more relaxed, more in control of himself than he ever had before. She had her own doubts about the coming week-end. She was anxious about how Fred would accept the fact that she was a woman, just as much in need as he was of sexual fulfillment, about what he would think when he realized, as he must surely do, what the party the preceding week-end had been like for her.

She had been visited by Hans, on Thursday, during the short lunch break that he had, and he had laughed at her fears and told her that her Fred was with his Anna. His quieting of her roaring needs had helped calm her, but she was, by Friday afternoon, ready to collapse.

Fred was no help to her when he came home. He seemed so sure of himself, so determined about his every action, that she had all kinds of intuitive feelings about the coming week-end. It almost blew her mind. She sighed, then with great effort, decided that things would just have to take their course, that she really had no control of the situation and that she would just have to feel her way along during the whole scene that was to follow. And, she knew that the whole thing would be a surprise to Fred as it was supposed to be to her. She dressed carefully for the party and smiled at Fred when he opened the door on his side of the car for her to get in. She almost giggled, realizing that he was just as, if not more, upset than she was.

Hans and Anna lived in a beautiful old house, right on the water. The view was magnificent. San Francisco majestically rose up among the hills across the bay, Alcatraz sat lonely and abandoned in the middle of the water and the waves gently lapped at the pilings at the foundation of the house. Marily remembered Anna saying that her family had left the house to her, and wished that someone would leave her such a house. Fred, in the meantime, was making a great show of finding the doorbell, trying to prove to her that he had never seen the place before. She almost felt sorry for him. They entered a darkened house. Anna had no lights on anywhere, except in the kitchen. They were all sitting in the living room, the lights making strange patterns on the walls and the clothes of the talking guests. Anna and Hans moved Fred and Marily about, introducing them and getting them into a seat. All had gone fine until Roy had been introduced, along with his wife, and at that time Marily had had a moment of panic when he had squeezed her hand, then patted her on the buttocks. But, apparently it all went over Fred's head or vision, his mind locked as it was on Anna.

They sat for a short while in the living room, looking at the heavenly vista before them, until all the guests had arrived. Then Hans invited all the men into the kitchen, and Anna took charge of the women. She advised them all that the party for the first night at least, would be held in total darkness, and that this week, in honor of the new members, the men would do all the choosing, or drawing. She directed each woman to an upstairs room, two to the room, and there they waited for the men to join them. Marily had every misgiving that could possibly assail her. Anna took her arm, realized that she was trembling, and told her, "We are to share the same room. Everything has been worked out in advance. Do not worry, Marily. Please."

Marily started crying, her whole body shaking, and told her between sobs, in the bedroom, "It can't be. He'll never forgive me. And I love him, Anna, I really do. He'll hate me. You know how men are. It's one thing for them to do this, but quite another for their wives."

"Marily, you must trust us. I've been with Fred every day this week. I have come to know him. He was very dubious about your accepting such doings, but I promised him that I would take care of everything. He is just as concerned as you, believe me. There will be no trouble. You will see. I think that it will help you get on better with each other. I really do." Anna talked, helped Marily to undress and made her lie down in one of the huge beds in the room. Then she went through a door, into the bathroom that was just off the bedroom, and returned with a damp, cold wash cloth and gently bathed Marily's face. "After all dear, there will be no talking, no names mentioned tonight. That is the rule of this party because it is in our house and believe me, Hans and I have thought it all out very carefully. There now," she said, patting Marily on the shoulder and getting up from the bed.

Marily wanted to express her thanks to this wonderful woman, but she couldn't. Although Anna had not quieted her fears, she had lessened them somewhat. She buried herself deep into the bed, almost dozed, then felt the bed give and strong hands reach for her and she signed heavily and moved into the demanding arms. She hadn't even heard anyone enter, but here he was, whoever he might be, kissing her. Marily lifted her hands to his head, felt the nape of his neck, and knew that it was beyond doubt, Peter. She was so grateful she could have cried all over again, but she didn't. She drew him down upon her and kissed him with all the burning passion that was in her.

Fred had entered the same bedroom, worry crowding his mind about his wife, wondering what she would be thinking, if she were fighting off some strange man, horrified with the thought of what he was doing to her. He had settled within himself the probability that she would leave him, would divorce him publicly, could visualize himself being called before his boss and fired on the spot, but there was nothing he could do about it. Anna was too powerful for him, too much a part of him and his unknown desire for him to care. He had worried about Hans and had been more than shocked when Anna told him that Hans knew and approved of what she was doing.

At first he had simply refused to believe it, then tonight meeting Hans and liking him instantly, he knew that she had been telling the truth, that somehow they were close to each other as man and wife in a way that he and Marily were not because of this. He trembled, moving toward the bed and the woman he knew would be there. She had promised. He lowered himself into the large bed, reached for and found his desire, Anna. He kissed her, passionately on the mouth, his hands explored again, in wonder, her now familiar body; all thoughts of Marily fled his mind.

Peter's long, hot kiss spun Marily's mind. The worry about Fred, what he would think of her and what he might do to her when he found out about her past week-end, dissolved like a lump of sugar in hot coffee as soon as she had drawn all of Peter's delightful tongue into her mouth. He was laying in his favorite position, his hips flat on the bed, his arms across her, his hands on her breasts, and his mouth on hers. Her arms flew about his, she rubbed his leg with her foot, feeling every individual hair that grew there, and sucked at his tongue and moved her lips against his. Her hands played over and down his back, to the small of it, and she playfully pulled on the short hair that she felt there. Peter bit her in return, and laughed into her mouth with his own, then squeezed her breast so hard that she would have cried out had she been able to do so.

He withdrew his mouth from her, put it on her breasts, bit softly at the nipple, caused it to spring into hardness instantly, and put his hand between her legs, his fingers exploring until they were on the lips of her cunt, then he jabbed into her, causing pain to shoot from her soft cuntal slit up to her stomach and into the tips of her breasts. She didn't mind. She reminded herself that he had come at her in brutality, had literally raped her, and she had forgiven him for that. Then, she decided that in her strange mood of the evening that she would rape him, would make him feel as he had made her feel that first time. She felt like laughing inside, deep down, at her own deviousness.

She moved her hips backwards, ridding herself of his finger in her cunt, and made him turn over on his back, then she got on top of him, made sure that his soft, hardening prick was laying on his stomach, put her cunt on top of it, on the underside actually because the top was laying along his stomach, to his large muscled arms and folded them behind his head and held them there at the elbows with her hands, then put her mouth on his.

She bit his lips. He shook his head trying to escape her sharp teeth, but she bore down, then shoved her tongue into his mouth. He bit her tongue, causing it to hurt like hell, so she withdrew it immediately and bit him on the neck, causing him to squirm under her. His prick hardened suddenly and Marily tightened her legs around his back, knowing that her hot little slit was causing the throbbing there. She raised herself slightly, moved her breasts across his face, then lifted them out of range of his seeking mouth, laughed softly and then kissed him, probing deep into his large mouth with her tongue.

Peter tried to release his arms, but Marily would not permit that. She put all her weight on his elbows and he stopped resisting. She moved her firm breasts across his face, brushed his lips with their hard nipples, and ground her pelvis down onto his stomach, knowing that the inner softness of her barely touching his hardened cock would drive him out of his mind. Peter shoved his hips upwards, enjoying the feel of her hot wetness on his prick, but Marily would not let it move. She let him take her breast in his mouth, pushed herself forward so that she filled his mouth with it, felt his tongue probe the nipple, his teeth clamp down on her. She pulled up abruptly, her own need on the verge of overpowering her, and teased him with both her breasts, then leaned over him, bit his nipples just as he had done hers.

Marily raised her hips, felt his rock hard prick spring up, worked her vagina into position over it, then eased herself down so that the head of his prick was just barely in the prime opening of her cunt. Peter tried to force himself up and further into her, but she would have none of that. Every time he pushed up, she lifted herself away from him. Then, in her own time and her own manner, she gradually slipped down on him, knowing that her hot pussy was driving him insane with desire. She continued slowly, using her new-found muscled walled vagina, and took all of his huge hardness inside her. She rested with that big wedge inside her, would not let him move his hips, having her legs firmly wrapped around him, until she was ready, until she had had enough of teasing him, then she moved her cunt up and down his long prick. She felt herself moving rapidly toward need of fulfillment, so she released his hands from behind his head and placed them on her hips.

They gripped her there, strongly, mashing into her soft flesh, and she moved up and down with ever increasing motion, then ground down on that hot spear, enjoyed the throbbing head of it deep inside her, then bucked onto it, her movements shifting into a frenzied gyration, and took it to the top of her and held him there until she came, until the warmth flowed out of her, around him, against the soft rubbery head. Peter tried frantically to move under her, to buck his prick into her, to satisfy his own screaming need, but she locked her legs tightly about him and prevented any movement on his part.

Peter realized what she had done to him, that she had raped him just as he had done her, and he felt like laughing. It served him right, he guessed, but that was another time, another place. Now he found himself gripped into her tight, hot cunt and his balls tight and needing to cum and she wouldn't let him, wouldn't continue with the movement that would bring him release. He slowly tensed his muscles, dug his heels into the bed, and in one quick movement flipped her over and reversed their positions so that he was on top of her.

Marily was surprised. She had been torturing him, had kept his hot, hard cock trapped within her, refusing to give him his pleasure, then suddenly she was under him and he was ramming into her, plunging wildly, grinding and pushing deep into her. She wanted to gain back her former position, had indeed started to, when her body betrayed her, catching fire and wanting and having the flames deep inside her burst into maddening fire. She relented, met his every movement with her own, slammed her vaginal lips to the very root of his hard pistoning cock and sucked him into her when he ground deep, and then it was there for her again, and him at the same time. They were one and frantic with each other, he trying to get inside her completely and she trying to take him, until they both felt the ultimate release, he spewing holy into her, she releasing her own fluid to meet his, the continued pounding and plunging until they were both spent, satisfied, she for the second time, then she drew him into her arms, and rested under him. She felt that she had managed to rape him and that he damn well knew he had been taken. She felt truly gratified at her conquest and a feeling of all encompassing warmth rippled through her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Marily and Peter lay quietly together for some minutes, then she got off the bed and went to the bathroom. She washed herself, using the douching equipment that Anna had pointed out to her earlier. She washed her face in cold water, then went to the door of the bathroom and carefully opened it, and gasped when Anna brushed against her. They both laughed, softly, and Marily continued on, groping in the darkness for the bed.

She moved herself onto it, guided by Peter's strong hands, and lay down in perfect contentment against him. He lay utterly still and she massaged his chest, enjoying the feel of hair against her hands. She felt rather than heard Anna coming back into the room, then Peter had moved her hands from him and slipped out of the bed. She watched the blurry outline of him in the total darkness, expecting him to enter the bathroom. He did not. He went to the other bed, leaned over it, then another man moved out of the bed and groped his way toward her. Suddenly, she was frightened.

She moved slightly hoping to avoid the closeness of him, then felt his hands on her stomach, then they moved to her breasts. She gasped from the shock of the coldness of them. Suddenly his lips were on hers, gently, almost shyly, and her fear disappeared. She kissed him back. His tongue probed her mouth, ever so softly, and she took it into her, moving her tongue against his as gently as he had moved into her. They kissed, wetly, then his mouth drew away from hers and was carefully placed on her breasts. She heard a small gasping cry from him at the wonder of her.

She moved her hands to his head, smoothed his hair and ran them down his back. He trembled. Marily felt a deep satisfaction knowing that she could please him by the simple movement. His tongue raced over her firm breasts, at first slowly, then faster, and her nipples sprung into hardness against the tormenting wet muscle. She pulled him to her. He moved his sex against her. She felt the tremendous length of him, the hardness of his prick against her leg, and she shuddered with anticipation of having this stranger grinding it around in the depths of her warm, wet pussy.

The wonderful mouth sought hers again, she almost greedily sucked his tongue into her. Then it was gone, and then it was on her breasts again, then on her stomach. She loved the feelings that it aroused deep within her, the desire that had been so recently satisfied, springing to life again, next to her heart.

She was electrified with pleasure when the gentle hands spread the lips of her vagina, then the warm breath was breathed into her waiting cunt, then the gentle probing of his tongue around the soft flanges of her. She lay still, waiting for the next pleasurable sensation to invade her. It did. The tongue explored her opening, into the walls of her, then deeper, then up to and around her clitoris, causing her to move her hips forward to meet it. She put her hands on his head and pulled him into her, pressed his face down onto her cunt, moved so that the wet probing muscle would go further into her. She moaned with pleasure.

Fred had approached the bed with trepidation. He was, he felt, going to his own doom. He had to walk across the room, get into bed with and make love to a complete stranger. He forced his nerves under control, told himself that he could and would do this because Anna wanted it. He had lowered himself into the bed, had forced himself to reach for the waiting female flesh.

He was startled to find the smoothness and softness in his hands, even more so than Anna, he knew, and he had gone ahead and found her mouth with his and kissed her and gradually she had responded, tenderly and gently, causing a warm rush of good feeling for her to pour out of him. He had kissed her breasts, which were magnificent to his touch, so firm and yet soft and luscious. He had moved his mouth back to hers, the same soft lips and tender tongue had received him with something near to his own eagerness, and he had reveled in the pleasure it gave him.

Then he had wanted to take her all into his mouth, to know every part of her body with his lips and teeth. He had kissed and sucked at her breasts, then her stomach, and unable to resist, he had parted the lips of her vagina and probed it with his tongue. She had responded instantly placing her soft hands on his head, sending electric currents rushing through him, all the way to his toes. He probed deeper, took her clitoris and rubbed it with his tongue, causing her to come alive and respond fully to him. He felt proud of himself.

Marily had been loved more than she had all her life in one short week, but never had she felt such attraction for, such compassion for, the man that was with her now. He was gentle and hard and solid and tender, and a complete stranger to her. He was so expertly kissing her inner softness, sending thrill after thrill through her, that she wanted to give him the same satisfaction, wanted to repay him for her own pleasure, and she didn't want him to stop. She indicated with her hands on him that he should turn his prick toward her head, and he did so, slowly, and she put her hand on it, then felt the sack of his slightly swaying testicles, and rubbed them together and knew that he had hardened more.

She gripped the fleshy softness of him and moved her hand over it, then around the head of it, and guided it to her lips and kissed the pulpy softness and then moved her mouth onto it, over the head of it, and felt him push slightly by way of thanking her for her consideration. She loved the still softly probing tongue in her cunt, so she eased his prick slowly into her mouth, felt it wonderfully filling her, then moved it further in, down deep into her throat. She moved her hands to his ass, which was soft to the touch but well-muscled, and into his crack and through his legs and took his balls into her hands again.

She sucked at him, almost gagging on the fullness of his hardening cock, and wiggled and squirmed her hips in pleasure of his hot tongue in her cunt. She felt her needs boiling within her, getting ready to spew forth, and at the same time an increased throbbing along the entire length of his huge prick. Then he was moving away from her, breaking the contact of his tongue on her cunt, then he was moving his hips backwards and removing his prick from her mouth. He reversed his position and kissed her, burning kisses, hot and impatient.

He moved himself between her legs, then spread them with his own, his hands busy exploring her breasts and her hips and the soft mounds of her buttocks. Then he gently penetrated her tight cunt, moving slowly and almost shyly into her until the large throbbing head was secured within her vaginal lips, then stopped for a second, then moved gently and easily into her, the walls of her cunt accepting what seemed to her to have always belonged there, all the way until he was fully within her. The controlled passion of his hard prick beat gently against her softness.

He moved slowly in and out of her, bringing her feeling outward with each gentle stroke. She received him each time, sucking his hardened cock into her, then giving up easily when he moved it out, ready always but not hurried for the filling up of her again. Like a well running machine that had been set to time perfectly with her heart beats, his motion rhythmed with her need until she seemed to shift gear and want to move faster, wanted to feel the increased speed of that hard flesh move in and out of her hot cunt at greater speed. It did, the movements speeding up and up and then his arms going behind her legs and pushing them back and opening her more and then ramming into her and plunging into her, pushing up and up and feeling more and more wonderful to her with every in and out thrust until she came, at the exact same moment he did, her own fluid pushed back by the bursting hotness that he spewed into her. Then there followed a relaxation for the both of them, he still hard and tight within her, and they slept, in that way, shifting their positions only a little so that he was no longer full weight upon her. Marily felt at peace with the world, love for the man who had been so kind to her, who seemed to be so gentle and masculine and commanding of her body and spirit.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Fred and Marily awoke at the same time, almost the same instant. The room was still dark, but shadows of grayness played around the windows, the water slapped against the pilings under the house and seemed to be more insistent than it had the previous evening. Both of them lay without touching the other, aware that each was still there, and marveled at the discovery of each other, still not knowing the name of the person they had found.

Fred was almost sick. He had never dreamed that such a woman existed on the earth, had never dared think that he might ever make love to her. His mind kept telling him that she had to be married, that she was someone's wife since there had been only couples there. He thought it unfair, so ungodly destructive, to him.

His mind floated back to the time his mother had discovered him kissing his first kiss, an ugly girl who happened to be the daughter of his mother's best friend. She had hit him on the back with her fist, hard, almost knocking his teeth loose because they banged into the teeth of the ugly girl. His first sexual excitement had been turned off much faster than it had exerted itself. And then, he remembered, the ugly girl had told his mother that he had just attacked her, had just pushed her up against the wall and started kissing her. His mother had believed her.

He wondered what his mother would say to him if she could see him now, in bed with what he was sure was a lovely woman even though he had no idea what she looked like. She'd probably still blame him, fight at him, because he happened to be a male. So be it, his mind echoed deep within, may she rest in her self made hell. He wondered if the woman was thinking of him, was comparing him to her husband, perhaps. He moved his hand until he found hers, then folded the softness of it within his own, and slept again.

Marily had awakened suddenly, but not abruptly, and knew beyond doubt that the man alongside her was awake. She wanted to move her body to his, but yet wanted him to want her too, so she did nothing, lay still and calm and wondered when they had moved apart, if he had awakened and moved out of her. Then she realized that that would probably have happened anyway, because when Hans and Peter had slackened, had changed from hardness to softness, they had both withdrawn from her without effort on their part. She was still satisfied, no needs coming alive inside her with her awakening, so she permitted herself to think.

She had to face Fred as soon as the day came. That was certain. She would have to look at him, to hear his lament of dismay when he fully and finally realized what she had done, which he had also done, but she was sure that he would never forgive her. She didn't care, now, she told herself, because she had discovered her true love and he was still beside her. She was positive that he would feel the same toward her as she had toward him, even though neither of them had spoken a word, she didn't know yet who he was and… maybe he did know who she was, maybe he had plotted with Anna and Hans to have her. No, she doubted that. It had been a random thing, he had come to her from Anna. Just after Peter had left her – that he would know about, too.

She almost cried. Why had it taken her so long to find love, to be truly satisfied and fulfilled, and why did it have to be a faceless, voiceless body? Whom could she tell? Whom could she cry out in her joy to? No one, she answered herself, absolutely no one. She knew that she could never, never tell Fred. He'd kill her. He'd never been violent toward her, but she realized that like all men he had it there, well covered, perhaps, but it was there. She'd probably get a fine display of it early this morning.

She felt the hand searching for hers, joyed in the warmth from it, the protectiveness of it, the strength she felt when it closed over her own. She was ready to be pulled to him, to have him make violent love to her, but he didn't. He simply took her hand and held it in his. And she felt good from the contact of him, knew that he wanted her to rest, to store up her energy for their coming bouts of love, of which, she assured herself, there would be many. She drifted off to sleep again, her mind at rest, her body relaxed.

Marily awoke again, fear pervading the whole of her. She did not jump, but awakened to an alert state, her mind warning her of some danger, close by, ready to destroy her.

Then, slowly, she realized what had awakened her. It was Fred's soft snore, close to her, roaring in her head now that she had recognized the sound. Her hand was still closed in the one she loved, but there was that snore. She didn't open her eyes, out of fear, not knowing what she should do, jump up and run and grab her clothes and never look back and risk waking him, wherever he might be, or simply to lay as she was, ready for slaughter and hope that the man she held onto would protect her.

She knew that it was light, that the sun was high in the sky, before she slowly opened her eye, the left one, easy like, to the rest of the room. She closed it much more quickly than she had opened it, snapping the lid down and squeezing it shut. Then she gradually opened both of her eyes together, and looked slowly around the room. She couldn't see into Anna's bed completely, but what she saw of Peter's head convinced her that it was he, that he was still in the room. The snore continued, somewhat louder, then stopped abruptly, leaving a huge emptiness for her fears.

She felt the big hand tighten on her, gradually, and she slowly turned her head and looked at him. She screamed.

In no time at all Anna and Peter stood over her, both completely nude, and Fred's face was just above hers. She felt as though she couldn't breathe. She gasped and panted and drew back from the look she saw on Fred's face. Then it changed, his lips parting into a smile, his eyes becoming soft and holding hers locked in his stare.

"Marily, Marily," Fred said, shaking his head in wonder. He leaned over her and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

"I didn't scare you that much, did I?" he asked, smiling at Peter and Anna.

"Oh… Fred," Marily broke into tears, unable to contain herself, happy that it was he. "Oh, Fred," she cried again, wrapping her arms about him. He held her tightly to himself, tried to console her.

"It was wonderful for me, too, Marily," he cooed, burying his face in the hollow of her neck. "Wonderful," he kissed her mouth again.

"Well," Peter throttled, looming above them with his sex dangling in front of their eyes, "isn't love wonderful? If you'll excuse us, Anna and I feel the need for food. We'll see you later in the kitchen."

Anna smiled her understanding to Marily, then turned and walked away with Peter. Marily looked at their buttocks moving away, Anna's full and voluptuous, Peter's thin and muscled and hairy, and felt like laughing at the contrast. She watched them dress, openly enjoying the two of them helping each other into their clothes, Peter clowning and crying out as though Anna had caught his skin in the zipper when she closed his fly. Fred laughed, too, and watched the two of them, his eyes traveling over and down and then back up over the beautiful figure of Anna. She seemed like a Goddess to him, almost as much a woman, he felt, as Marily. As soon as they left the room, both of them waving merrily to them, Fred shoved the cover off Marily's body and looked at her full breasts, her slightly rounded and smooth, flat stomach, the pubic hair that outlined her sex perfectly, her rounded hips. He let his eyes feast on her, the beauty of her, thankful that she was his, and then went to her and kissed her and moved his body onto hers.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

More than an hour later Fred and Marily went to the kitchen and were invited to have breakfast by Anna. Everyone was especially nice to them, particularly Hans and Anna. Anna made them sit at the counter of the breakfast nook, served them cold tomato juice, arranged their plates and silver and napkins. Hans busied himself at the stove, talking all the while of the breakfast that he was preparing for them. He flourishingly filled their plates with a mushroom omelet, delicious to both of them, then sat and watched them eat it and talked to them.

"So," Hans laughed, "I heard a scream this morning, from Marily. I think I know why. Ya! You have discovered your husband, right?" He spoke directly to her, but smiled in Fred's direction.

Marily blushed, ashamed that she had caused such a scene, and nodded her head. Fred surprised her by laughing, then said, "I almost screamed myself, Hans. I might have if she had not. We were both shocked."

"That is good," he told them solemnly. "You make me think of myself and my wife. You are just like us, I think."

Now Fred blushed, thinking of his fucking of Anna, how delightful had been his discovery of her or her of him or both of them of each other. He could find nothing to say to Hans, even though he wanted to put into words his appreciation of him and of Anna. Hans expected no less, so he continued, seeing the need to put both of them at ease.

"Let me tell you, both of you, but mostly for Fred. Please. I left East Germany when I was sixteen – a teen-ager as you Americans say. I was a small boy when the war was over, when the Russians came into my village. They were animals, every one of them, all the officers, all the men. They destroyed everything that stood in their way. They were like children. If they do not get their way in all things, they become violent. The day they arrived, we were all afraid of them, I can still hear my mother saying to me, 'Hans I must hide you. God only knows what they will do to the children.'"

"There had been many stories. Many. I thought that the Russians would eat the children. I think that perhaps my mother thought so, too. So, she did hide me. In the basement. I remember that I was so fearful of the dark, very much afraid. I think I may have cried myself to sleep. I do not remember. I do remember one night hearing my mother scream, amidst the noise of shouts that I did not understand and door slamming and rifle butts against the walls of the house. Then, my mother she screamed again, loudly, making a sound that I did not know any woman or man could make."

"I crawled up from the basement, from my hiding place, and looked through the door. I saw my mother being raped, I did not know at the time that that was what was happening to her, but it was. They had her on the table in the kitchen, and one big man was raping her, others were holding her and there was a line of men behind her, all dirty and big and they all had rifles and guns and ammunition all over them. My mother she could not cry out. One was at her face filling her mouth with his large pole, another was shoving himself cruelly into her vagina. I watched it all, hating every one of them, wanting to kill them. I did not know what they were doing to her, never had I imagined such a thing could happen to a person. Each of them took their pleasure with her. They were about twenty of them, then they left. I went to my mother and she looked at me with sad, sad eyes."

"I cried. She did not. She got up from the table, went to her bedroom and I remember hearing her in the bathroom, then she came back to me. She took me on her lap and said that she did not know how to tell me but she must. 'I have been raped, Hans. You will understand the word one day. All men do. All men are prone to do this.' I remember that she cried, and she pushed me away from her. I remember that. I can see the whole thing now by closing my eyes."

"But, from that day on I always thought of myself in connection with the Russian rapists. Always. When I was thirteen and I had the first desire of sex, I turned it off. I did not want to be like the Russians. I did not want to hurt any woman as I had seen them do my mother."

"Then we escaped to the West. My mother and me. I never knew, never saw my father to my memory. He did not come back from the war. There life was more easy, there were automobiles, there was a school for me, and there were girls I could have had. But I could not. I wanted to, but always there was the picture in my mind of my mother and the Russians. I did not want to hurt a girl, a woman. Then, I met Anna, four years ago. I was a virgin. Ya! Still. I loved her when I first saw her. I married her. But we were not happy. I could not tell her why we could not have what she would consider normal sex relations. But she told me. She showed me by introducing me to this club. I tell you this because I think your story is similar to mine. I think it is always a mother who puts the blocks to happiness in a boy's mind. They do."

Hans looked closely at Fred, knew that he had hit close to home. He wanted both Fred and Marily to know that he liked them, that he wanted to help them to appreciate the better things of life. He wanted them to accept each other, to be happy with their chosen partners. And, he was astute enough to realize that it was Fred who had put the blocks in the way of their happiness.

Fred hesitated, then smiled at Hans, forcing it at first, then meaning it sincerely. "You're right, Hans. I think, too that mothers put the block there. But I don't think that your mother wanted to. I mean she had no choice about being raped by the Russians."

"True, but she did not have to say that I was a male like them, even so. She could have chosen other words and saved me years of suffering. Right?" He asked passionately.

"No. I would never have forgiven her," Anna said, sliding her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. "Every woman wants to make her man over and I had the chance. I would never have forgiven you if you had been different."

They all laughed with her. Fred smiled his silent thanks to Hans for the telling of the story that must have been painful for him, because he realized that he did it to show him, Fred, that his hang-up over his mother was not unusual.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Both Fred and Marily enjoyed the remainder of the party. Each of them had been reluctant to let the other go, to permit him to take another partner with the new drawing at lunch time, but they did. Marily was paired off with a man she had not noticed before, an older man, who was the medical doctor for the whole group.

Fred won Vivian. Even though he was not delighted with the prospect of her, she was with him. She talked, compared him to all the other men in the room, pointed out to anyone who might be listening all his virtues, his handsomeness, his frank and beautiful eyes, his tallness, his slimness of hip and verbalized her own desire to have those same hips grinding against hers.

Fred was embarrassed at first, then realized that no one was listening to her. She talked on and on, holding his hand, then releasing it and putting a drink in it and then holding it again, never stopping, never expecting an answer. Fred blushed deeply with one thought: that the only way to stop her talking was to fill her mouth with his prick. The idea jolted him. He had truly never had such a thought in his life and so he sat red-faced, looking at her moving lips.

Vivian knew what he was thinking. She liked the idea that it should make him blush. She talked on, but she pulled him off the couch and took him up the stairs to the bedroom. Once the door was closed, she stopped talking long enough to give him a hot burning kiss on the mouth, grinding her pelvis against his, then continuing with her monologue, "Age is not always a drawback, we learn so much as we grow older," she unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands over his chest then to his back and said, "If what I think you were thinking is correct, you were right in your assumption and I want you to prove it to yourself." She kissed him again, taking his tongue into her mouth and her hands fumbled with his belt and then his zipper and his pants fell around his ankles, and she took her mouth from his, "And I've wanted you ever since the day you moved into the house across the hedge from me and help me take this off," she moved his hand to her bra strap and he unsnapped it and was surprised that she had such full, firm breasts, then laughed at the thought that her lungs would have to be bigger than anyone's, and she moved his hands to her skirt and that was gone and she led him to the bed.

"What beautiful, streamlined muscles, I like them all and I want to explore the whole of you and I'll stop talking and use my tongue for better purposes," and they were on the bed and she was forcing him down and she was on top of him, still going strong and she probed her tongue in his ear and took it out and "I like to make you squirm and your sex is already hard and good and it makes my flesh all goosebumpy and," she moved her mouth down his body and bit and talked and kissed and he squirmed under her and suddenly she was silent except for the quiet wet sucking noises she made with her mouth on the head of his prick. But not for long.

"Wonderful, wonderful," she murmured, kissing his balls and biting at the flesh just under them, then he felt her tongue probe into his rectum and he raised his hips up because the feeling was new and wonderful to him.

Vivian ate and talked her way back over him and kissed his mouth and told him he was ready and he mounted her and drove his hard rod into her and she gasped and didn't talk and he fucked her hard. He was surprised at her tight pussy, at her ability to use the muscles in it to suck his hardness deep into her and release it at her own desired speed and time.

Suddenly she had established the most erotic rhythm for the both of them and then they came, together, and Fred was happy, was satisfied with her and with himself. Surprisingly, she did not start talking immediately after, but rested silently, and her hands roamed over him, expertly, and when she did start talking it was unhurried and quiet and restful to him.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Marily and Fred were not displeased to have the party end. They had both benefited from it, and this both of them knew as they drove home. Inside the house Marily looked around, felt that she was seeing their home for the first time. She turned to Fred and he took her in his arms and kissed her as she had never been kissed before. She liked it, she loved her 'new' husband. "Now you'll be too much for me," she told him, feigning pushing him away from her.

"I'll try to be, darling," he said, taking her again in his arms and moving his hands down to her soft, full buttocks and pulling her pelvis into his. "And I can try better in the bed, too." He moved her toward the bedroom.

Fred's and Marily's happiness increased daily. Marily had some struggle with her own feeling because Peter came to her house twice during the week and Hans invited himself over once. She was surprised that she wanted Peter and Hans, just as much as she had the first time. She enjoyed Fred more than either of them, yet there seemed to be the need within her for other men too.

She hesitantly told Fred about Peter's first visit, and he had laughed at her, told her that she was becoming insatiable, then seeing her brow wrinkle laughed and told her about his daily visit during lunch to Anna or Vivian or Katherine. She was jealous, then laughed at herself for being so, then told him that he might pay her a lunch visit someday and see how strongly she could show her appreciation. He promised to do so the following day. He did.

Marily no longer had to go to the patio for her morning cigarette, but she did anyway out of habit. She enjoyed the fresh air and it tended to bring her fully awake in the morning to go there and have a cigarette. There was generally dew on the ground, all the small creatures in the world were starting their day, moving about slowly and then more rapidly, eating and looking for food and she had come to appreciate the closeness of all the creatures in the world, had even come to some kind of philosophy about man and insects. She was sitting in the patio one morning, thinking about the four parties she had attended with the group, and someone spoke to her. She looked toward Peter's house, thinking that Vivian must be home and was coming to visit her, but she saw no one there. Then the voice spoke again, said, "Over here." Marily swung her head around and saw where the voice was coming from. It was the yard in back of their house, rather than at the side of it.

Marily stood and looked at the beautiful young girl who was speaking. "Hello," she said to her. "I'm Marily and you must be the new neighbor. I knew that someone had moved in because of the lights, but I hadn't seen anyone about. Come over and have some coffee." Marily opened the gate, looked at the curvaceous petite blonde as she stepped into her yard.

"I'm Sam Kingsley," she said, smiling. Her eyes sparkled.

"Sam?" Marily asked.

The blonde laughed. "It's short for Samantha. Sam."

"Well, Sam, welcome to the neighborhood. What does your husband do? I haven't seen him."

Marily did not miss the momentary scowl on her face before she answered. "He's in business. Electronics." She did not elaborate.

"That's nice. Mine, too. How long have you been married?" Marily asked her.

"Eight months. Sometimes it seems like years, then at other times it seems like only yesterday." She sipped at her coffee, said nothing more for a few minutes, then asked Marily, "What is there to do here? My husband's so busy and he wants me to get to know some people and… well, he's very conservative, Marily, very. I suppose I am too, but… it's strange being here. There's just so much to do in the house and then it's all done and the whole day's there facing me." She stopped talking and shook herself and her face colored. "I'm sorry, it's just that…"

Marily knew what it just was, but she wanted to hear it from Sam. "Just what?" she asked, softly, encouraging her.

"I don't know, really. I just thought marriage would be so different. I thought that one could let one's self go, sort of… enjoy life. But it isn't that. Tom – that's my husband – he's so interested in business that that's all he has time for. This week-end he's going to be gone and I'll just be here without anything to do. I'm sorry, I have no right to…" She stopped, surprised at her own boldness in talking to a stranger as she was.

"I understand, Sam. I like you. We'll be good neighbors. We can start right now. Could you do me a favor? I need to go shopping and I promised my husband that I would be here to make his lunch – he manages to come home ever so often – and I'm sure that he would like to meet you and your husband, so," Marily rushed on, the plan having formed suddenly in her mind, or the beginning of it, "Would you have lunch with him? You could get to know each other." She smiled at her.

"Well, I'd love to. I mean… sure, if you think it's all right. I'll make some sandwiches and a salad and…"

She looked closely at Marily. "How very nice of you, Sam. I'll leave him a note and he'll be right over as soon as he comes in. And thank you. I just have to go out and I was thinking about calling him and telling him to eat downtown but this is sort of a special surprise for him, an added something to the week when he comes home. You're sure you don't mind?" Marily smiled sincerely at Sam.

"Oh, no, not at all. I'd like to meet him. I wish Tom would come home for lunch. It'll give me something to do and look forward to," Sam assured her, standing and smoothing her stretch pants over her hips.

"Good. I'll see you when I return, then. And thank you, Sam. Very much." Marily watched her go, assuring herself that she had done the right thing. Then her mind turned instantly to her own problems. Where, she wondered, was she going to spend three hours? She would shop, she decided, taking a piece of paper and beginning a note to Fred.

DARLING, she wrote,

LUNCH IS WAITING AT THE HOUSE IN BACK OF OURS. WE HAVE A NEW NEIGHBOR WHO REMINDS ME OF MYSELF NOT TOO LONG AGO. SHE IS PREPARING LUNCH FOR YOU. BE GENTLE… BUT FIRM!

LOVE, MARILY.

She dressed quickly and left the house. She felt good even though pangs of jealousy gnawed at her heart. But… what greater love could any woman have for her husband, she smiled contentedly to herself.

Content

Peter Jenkins
The reluctant neighbor

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN