David St Martin

Loaned wife

CHAPTER ONE

As soon as she entered the room, the eyes or three of the four men moved immediately from their cards to follow her. There was a hunger in those eyes, a ravenous want held in bay only by the fact that she was the wife of the fourth man.

The only man whose eyes had stayed on his cards.

She was a beautiful woman, looking far younger than her years. Rich chestnut brown hair flowed down around a warm complected face to cascade over bare, tempting shoulders above a sleeveless, strapless rib-knit top. The top was pale yellow, contrasting to her flesh and highlighting the warmth and satiny sleekness, and her broad, pinkish nipples were clearly visible through the taut fabric.

It had always been her breasts that first caught a man's eyes. Whether the watcher was ass man, tit man or leg man, his gaze zeroed in first on her breasts, for her breasts were gorgeous.

They were firm, swelling, almost perfectly globular masses of soft, resilient flesh, jutting out in front of her, thrusting out strongly into the air. Her tilt disdained bras.

Their eyes flickered from her breasts to her waist, to that sudden, severe narrowing beneath her ribs and above the flaring womanliness of her taut hips. Her waist was slender, streamlined, begging them to test its girth with two hands that might easily close about it.

Their eyes flickered back to her breasts, then on down past the teasing swell of her prominent pubis beneath the too-tight short-shorts to the long, sleek, shapeliness of her legs. It almost seemed that her legs were too long for her – but when she walked, when she moved them, it was obvious that no one else deserved them.

Their eyes flickered back to her breasts, then upward, over the smooth flowing line of her graceful throat to her face. Her features were youthful, almost girlish, but her dark eyes and full, luscious lips gave her just an air of accommodating worldliness to make her knowing, fractionally overlong lingering of eyes cause to wonder if perhaps, she might…

"Any of you, boys like another bottle of beer, or a sandwich?"

"No. Not here. No, thanks," they all murmured in response, eyes still following hers. Did her lips part a shade more? Did the texture of that smile change from politeness to one of invitation?

She walked around the table, hips swaying just enough to be provocative, not enough to be immodest. "And what about you, master of the house?" she cooed softly. She stood beside her husband, slipping one arm about his neck and pressing the underside of one large, marvelous breast against his forehead.

"Huh?" Tom Jamison glanced up from his hand, as if just aware at that moment of his wife's presence in the room. He looked up and found himself staring at the flawless underside of one richly curved breast. "Oh, no thanks honey."

"Well, then, since none of you men are hungry or thirsty, I think I'll excuse myself and turn in. It's nearly one in the morning."

Tom put his cards face down on the table and slipped one arm around that impossibly slim waist, tugging lightly, playfully at his wife so that her tit flesh pressed and bounced off his temple. "Ready to call it a night, eh, mistress?"

It was their private little joke – he was master, she was mistress. When they'd first married, a chronological mismatch that should have teen doomed from the start fourteen years ago, they'd taken delight in shocking people with the literally accurate terms.

"You said it," she answered quietly. "Think you'll be coming to join me soon?" And to emphasize which of the interpretations she meant, she pressed the side of her torso, from gloriously swelling breast to strong, smooth thigh, against him.

"Sure, sure," he said distantly, eyes already straying back to the cards on the table in front of him and the pile of chips in the center of the green felt. "You run on in there and I'll be with you soon."

She knew that tone. Janet Jamison bent down, the upper hem of her top sagging to reveal her gorgeous tits almost to the nipples, and pressed a light kiss on her husband's cheek.

Again, the men's eyes followed her as she strode from the room, this time lighting on her well-filled ass cheeks, tight and full, as they twitched within the unconcealing short-shorts.

Any one of them would have given a year of his life to have had her as his own wife. Every one of them wondered if Tom Jamison had lost his mind – he seemed far more interested in the cards than the beautiful, sexy woman who'd just done everything short of unzipping his fly to coax him into bed.

The three men exchanged glances, understanding glances, knowing glances. Then they each settled back into place for the game.

Tom continued examining his cards. There was sixty bucks in the pot. The betting was at five bucks – to him. He held three eights and jack high.

He was already down seventy for the night. If he could take this pot, he'd be within striking distance of breaking even, maybe even coming out a little ahead for the first time in weeks. He'd been a streak of bad luck like nothing he'd ever seen in his life – almost four grand in losses in over the past six weeks.

He had a feeling deep in his gut that this was the hand, this was the night, this was the week his luck would change. He knew that if he took this hand, he could start winning his debts and paper back, maybe even get ahead. And then he'd quit.

Of course he would. Just like all the times before.

He pushed all the other considerations from his head and played the hunch. "I'll call," he announced cooly, and tossed the chip in.

The three men turned to Sid Koenig, the heavy-set, balding man with the face of a bulldog and the temperament of a kitten with his friends. He'd started and boosted this round of betting.

"Ace high flush in hearts," he smirked, laying the cards out for all to see as if they were the crown jewels of England.

All around the table, the others folded their cards with expressions of friendly envy. Including Tom. It could never be said that Tom wasn't a sport. Even though he was now down ninety dollars for the night.

He could sense that someone was about to suggest calling it a night, and before the words could be spoken, he grabbed the deck and began shuffling. "Seven card stud, deuces wild," he announced.

The other three exchanged knowing glances again, but this time the shared understanding was a different one. For each and every one of them knew Tom and his quirks well.

And each and every one of them knew he was a compulsive gambler.

Janet Jamison stripped her clothing off quickly in the bathroom, eager to rid herself of even those few garments. With practiced expertise, she gave the faucets a few quick turns and the water blitzed out of the shower head at precisely the steamy temperature she preferred.

Quickly, she adjusted the angle of the spray, then tucked the aromatic mass of her luxuriant hair up in a tight bun so it wouldn't be splashed.

She stepped into the enclosure, sliding the heavy tempered glass doors into place and reached for the bar of fragrant, sweet-smelling soap. Its scent was one of pine and herbs, and it reminded her so vividly of her childhood home in the forests of Washington. It was there that Tom had first met her. He'd been just a field man, then, servicing the little gas stations carrying the brand of tires he sold. She was just sixteen, ten years younger than him.

But the first time, they's sew each other had been the start of a frantic intrigue culminating with the two of them sharing a creaky motel bed. She'd lain beneath him, wide open and receptive to every powerful thrust of his virile loins, crying out from time to time in her ecstasy as she'd felt his prick driving deep into her.

She opened her eyes and shivered with the remembered sensations. Where had they gone wrong? It had been a month since the last time he'd fucked her – and even then, he'd toiled mechanically over her.

Didn't she excite him any more?

She frowned, then looked down at herself as the powerful, stinging spray bounced over her smooth flesh. Her nipples were stiffly erected, the tips like twin towers of blood-engorged flesh, and they ached to be sucked and kissed and licked and fondled and even bitten.

She took the soap and began lathering herself, stepping back out of the spray momentarily and quickly working the thick, fragrant lather up. Her long slim fingers moved deftly over her skin, and she felt the excitement growing within her, the familiar wants welling up between her hips. Janet Jamison was a true sybarite, so much so that even her own touch could arouse her to a fever pitch.

Over her shoulders, down the length of her arms, back up over her tanned chest, the lather spread under her hands. She'd gotten a better tan this year than ever before since that sixteenth summer when Tom had carried her off; rushing in the old Buick to put miles between them and a posse of male relatives and rejected suitors determined not to see her run off with some stranger unfamiliar to their small town beyond the monthly calls for tire orders.

She smiled softly to herself as she recalled the way she'd quickly lifted herself over his lap in the service station, dropping her dripping wet cunt down onto the mighty, upthrust spike of his cock as it jutted up out of his pants through the fly she had opened herself just moments before.

She could remember so well how it felt when that rigid cock slipped home between her cunt walls.

Janet let go a long, low groan of pleasure as she thought of it, and her hands slipped up to cup the great, softly swollen globes of her breasts. She tested their weight, hefting them almost reverently. Here she was, thirty years old the week before, and still not a hint of sag to the great masses of sensitive flesh.

She rotated her breasts slowly, tenderly, savoring their feel as the pull of them tugged at the muscles of her chest and shoulders. She loved it when men played with her breasts, was driven to heights of pleasure by it – even when they were just a little rough with her.

She spread her thumbs away from the other fingers, letting the pads rub their way up to her stiff nipples and then push slowly, heavily over the enlarged buds.

Oh Tom, Tom, I wish you were doing this to me! she thought.

Her hands moved lower, sliding down over her ribs, palms pressing hard so that she could feel the bulge of each bone. Still lower, her hands moved inward, following the taut line of her body over the flat, gentle muscles of her stomach.

Her breath was coming more quickly. Janet bent forward, unthinking, mindless of the shower spray now soaking her hair. Her hands moved over her smooth abdomen, so compact, so flawless. It was hard to believe that from that same abdomen had come the lovely, rapidly maturing young woman that was her daughter, Penny. Harder still to believe that Penny was thirteen.

Her fingers splayed wide as she reached lower, then followed the indentation of her thigh creases down onto her strong upper legs.

She couldn't handle it any more. Janet turned off the shower and stepped out of the tub, flinging a towel across her shoulder. She didn't care about the thick, copious drops of water that splashed down onto the hall carpet behind her as she trotted towards the room she and her husband slept in. Her large breasts bobbled deliciously, making them ache all the more.

Inside the bedroom, she slammed the door shut, not even bothering to throw the little privacy latch into place. Janet tossed the big bath towel over the bed, grabbed one of the king-size pillows and dropped it expertly in place.

She didn't care if Tom walked in on her while she was in the middle of it. Maybe it would turn him on. And if Penny should waken and walk in on her. Forget it. Penny was growing even more precociously than Janet had, already drawing stares and wolf whistles from men her father's age. Penny probably whacked off more than her mother.

She flicked on the little night light, then went and knelt on the bottom of the mattress. Putting her arms out in front of her, Janet let herself ease forward, hips already shuddering slightly in anticipation of what was to come, until she settled into the center of the pillow.

She felt the resilient pressure of the foam matching the downward pressure of her pelvis, forcing the soft material up in a caress of her swollen pussy lips.

Her hands slid down beneath her stomach as she adjusted her legs to trap a fold of the pillow against her cunt, fingers worming under her pubis till the tips were against her cunt.

"Aaahhhh!" she sighed as her hands began to move beneath her. Fingertips caressed and traced the outer edges of cunt lips, feeling the wetness there as her darling slot secreted its prick hungry lubrication. She pressed and squeezed the lips, moving her hands so that her fingers would reach up to the hard, protruding button of her, clitoris.

Janet's clitoris had always been oversized, as if indicating her appetite for male members. Almost a flail inch long when fully erected.

Her fingers glided over the end of her clit, and each touch sent a shuddering spasm of pleasure through her, while at the same time heightening her need to come.

Spreading the thumb and forefinger of each hand wide apart, she ran her hands down and round the juncture of her thighs and inner crotch flesh, kneading the soft folds of pussy skin inward so that the lips of her vaginal opening rubbed against each other and the sensitive shaft of her clitoris.

Janet's hips jerked in little spasms of pleasure as her fingers worked the boiling pleasures in her cunt ever higher. Her legs clenched tightly together, the muscles in her calves and thighs knotting with tension, she started rocking up and down, the length of her body moving like a see-saw over the pillow, each shift in weight pressing her hands more forcefully against her yearning cunt.

At last the pressure became too great, the nerve endings too sensitive. She withdrew her hands and slid them again beneath herself, but this time between the pillow and the bed.

The folds of the pillow were caught between her cunt lips, the dryness of the fabric chafing the sensitive inner flesh of her labia. Her hands and fingers moved under the pillow, causing it to bunch and move like a live thing between the juncture of her wanton thighs.

Janet's ass cheeks tightened, pressed together in rapid convulsive jerks. If only Tom could walk in on her now, he'd certainly be turned on, he'd certainly tear off his clothes, revealing the length of that beautifully swollen cock of his. He'd certainly lower himself over her, putting his strong hands on her thighs and pulling them apart with the rough caress that he knew she loved. He'd certainly drag her up to her hands and knees and shove his dick inside her with all the power and force she loved.

She thought about her husband's prick, thought about his huge, hairy balls dangling below that rigid meat, so rich and full of the hot, creamy cum she loved to feel shooting home inside her twat. She imagined that he was with her, forcing his dick deep inside her, stretching the walls of her constricted vagina with the knob, so broad and purple with hot blood.

She began to come, the sensation started low in her womb and spreading outward through her. She tensed as if in a seizure, her entire body shivering, her hands clutching madly at the pillow. The small of her back flexed slightly, arching her hips back and upwards to receive the final thrusts, the ejaculatory stabs of the lover she craved so much, to open herself to the gushes of warm spunk she yearned to have splattering inside of her.

But, of courser there was no lover with her, except in the lust-hazed swirlings of her mind, and when her orgasm began to drain away, she lay there still throbbing and wet, still denied that final peak she sought and could never find with her fingers alone.

She groaned in frustration, tossing on the bed. She had to make it, had to reach the release she was seeking, had to have, something long and thick and hard and warm and wet driven to the hilt in her cunt.

She whirled over on the bed, her ass still half on the pillow, tilting her body so that all the warm, curving excitement of her was emphasized delightfully by the tilt of her voluptuous form. Her breasts, turgid-tipped with her throbbing nipples, thrust upwards. Her hips, hungry for the weight of a male pelvis on them seemed to thrust outward. Her legs were spread and the hiking of her ass by the pillow beneath only highlighted the inviting dark mass of pubic thatch between her wide-spread thighs, and the glistening pink slit peaking out from between.

Her eyes swept the room as over and over again the words went through her mind – long and thick and hard and warm…

And then her gaze swept over the dresser. There stood the scented candle Penny had given them a few weeks before for her and Tom's anniversary. Tom had said then that he would light it when they made love, and indeed, that very night he had, the romantic glow flickering through the room as the soft scent of pine needles filled the air.

It had hardly lost any of its ten-inch length since it was given them; Tom had not been attending to her as he should.

Her eyes caressed the smoky, deep green length of it and again the words went through her mind – long and thick and hard and warm…

It wasn't warm, but three out of four would do, especially in Janet Jamison's state.

She crawled off the bed with the lithe ease of a big, tawny skinned cat, just reaching the candle from the end of the bed, then lay back with the phallic length of soft wax in her hand.

She couldn't close her fingers about it, falling short by perhaps an inch. It was thicker than her husband – at least as thick any man she'd ever known. As she lay back on the pillow legs spread, lowering the base of the candle, smooth and rounded with the contours of the holder in which it had lain on the dresser, she was momentarily uncertain about what she was doing.

She put one hand down to her cunt, slipping one finger inside. She was fearfully tight there and found herself unsure of whether or not she could take it without pain or injury.

But then she felt the tension, the need to come beginning to knot inside her all the more, and she threw caution to the winds.

The base of the candle touched between the folds of her cunt flesh, pushed up against it. It wouldn't go in at first and she wondered if it was too much for her.

But then she remembered the wonderful elasticity of her cunt, stretching to accommodate men, no matter how large, contracting to grip their penises, no matter how diminutive, and she felt the lubricating secretions dripping from her quim and she knew that not only could she take it – she had to have it!

Janet put her other hand down between spreading the lips of her pussy. The first time, it had pushed them inward, instead of slipping between. This time, though, she held them splayed widely apart as she fitted the blunt, gently rounded end of the candle between, then let them snap back tightly into place around the shaft.

She rotated the dildo between her thighs, grinding the end into her cunt.

"Uummmmm!" The sound slipped from behind her lips as she felt the sides of the cool length of false prick moving in the place where she wanted a hard cock.

She gripped the end of the candle in one hand, holding it in place with the other. Janet tilted her hips upward, her legs held far apart, and pushed.

She felt the muscles at the entrance of her cunt grudgingly giving way, spreading, being driven apart by the invader. Slowly, bit by bit, the dildo pressed into her, separating the walls of her cuntal tunnel despite their vain struggles to stay pressed closely together inside her.

Inch by inch, the candle was dipping into her.

She could feel the slick sides of the cylinder slipping between her fingers as it probed deeper and deeper into her. She wanted it to reach the itch, the place that needed the touch of hard dick, the pressure of stiff cock, deep inside her.

It was halfway in. She paused, gasping fer breath. Each intake of air made her hands move the end of the candle an inch or two upwards, away from the bed, causing the entire slick length to shift within the clutches of her wonderfully stretched cunt. It was so thick that as it drove between her pussy lips, it pulled the soft skin downward, caving it inward, so that her clitoris was pressing tautly against the top of the candle.

Each shift of it within her only increased the pressure on her clit, and that, in turn, only made her breath the more rapidly, deeply. And then she moved it even more.

The sensations were all churning together inside her, and they were intensified both by the decadence of what she was doing and the chance that her husband might walk in at any moment and see her laying there on the bed with the thick candle jammed halfway into the very slot he'd been neglecting.

She began pushing the candle inward again, and with each fraction of an inch that slipped into her, she felt new pleasure zones being touched, being ignited. Little explosions of ecstasy were taking place between her hips, within the length of her vaginal sheath, and each only made her want more. Inch by inch, the dildo bored into her throbbing cunt. Janet could feel the very end of it beneath her fingers even as she felt the rounded base driving up towards her cervix and womb. She wanted it deeper.

With a last groan of lust, she pushed it deep into her cunt. Within seconds, she was overwhelmed by her orgasm, her cunt coating the wax dildo with rich juices. Then she pulled the candle from her pussy.

And she knew herself well enough to realize, even as she roused herself sufficiently to replace the candle on the dresser top, that if she didn't get some more attention from her husband down in that inferno between her legs soon, she might still want his cock.

But no more than she wanted any cock.

Janet pulled the sheets back up over her, tossing the pillow over onto her husband's side of the bed, taking his for herself. Let him smell my pussy juice on it, she thought drowsily. Maybe it give him an idea.

Tom Jamison sat on the big couch in the living room, staring at the blank space in the center of the floor where the poker table had stood. As always, the guys had stayed after to help him straighten up some. They always had. And they seemed eager to do a little more than usual on this night.

For on this night, for the fifth straight week, he'd lost more than a hundred dollars to them.

He held the beer can in his hand, sipping from it vacantly from time to time. None of the boys ever discussed losses, with each other or outside of their circle. Janet would never need to know how muck he'd been losing.

But he knew damn good and well that if he didn't do something, and quickly, he was going to have them on the rocks financially.

He finished the beer and got another from the refrigerator, then resumed his post in the chair beside the sofa. This was his chair, and he alone ever sat in it. That was another of the little traditions he and Janet had. It was the master's throne. He remembered, the Christmas she'd given it to him. She'd somehow managed to scrimp the money together for it out of her clothing money.

"Shit," he murmured in disgust. He was upset with himself. As good as Janet and Penny were to him, then he went and squandered the money gambling.

He'd keep playing just long enough to win it back, and maybe a little more. Then he'd quit it for good and be the husband and father they deserved.

Of course he would. Just like the other times.

He drained the beer and went up to bed, pausing in the bathroom just long enough to empty his bladder. He didn't even notice the once-exciting scent of his wife's pussy on his pillow, or its dampness.

His mind was preoccupied with his wagers.

He even dreamed about them, when sleep finally came.

CHAPTER TWO

Tom awoke to the smell of percolating coffee, the odor spiraling up the stairs, down the bedroom hall to his nose, there to tickle and tease him awake.

He resented the awakening. He had been in a fine dream – Vegas, the big table, riding a streak. The other gambling had stopped and all the customers had come over to watch him. The dealers and croupiers stood at the other tables, lonely sentinels, without even the cigarette girls for company. They, too, had come to his table, for that was where their customers were.

After the fourth straight point – nine – he'd begun letting it all ride. He could feel the power in his fingers, knew that he couldn't miss.

Again and again, he rode, his pile growing geometrically. At some point, he had decided – not hoped, but decided – to break the house, to empty the casino's coffers in memory of all the two-bit games from which he'd walked empty handed. He was going to strike back for all the little guys who'd come to Vegas with dreams and left after forty continuous hours without a cent.

He could feel the eyes of the people on him, and he knew that they were making him stronger. From time to time, they would look at the croupier, that legendary glacial figure who never became ruffled. He could see great bullets of sweat popping out on his forehead and knew that the croupier was frightened. And with good reason.

One more hit and Tom would wipe out the casino.

He followed the croupier's eyes to the back of the crowd, and saw there three men with an aura, if not a look, of importance about them. The owners. They knew, as well. Yet they also knew that to back down, to refuse the bet, would destroy them. Even more important, there was their personal, sporting code and they abided by it.

He picked up the dice, weighing them in his hand. He knew he would take it, knew that the first throw would be a natural seven.

He turned and saw the eyes of one of the cigarette girls on him, the one who always smiled when she saw him. She was tall, willowy, icy blonde and pale – and haughty, with a turned-up nose like Allison's.

He'd returned the smile, coolly, then turned back to the table. The green felt seemed to stretch out forever, and there at the sides were the boys he played with each Thursday.

As he shifted the cubes in his fingers, the odor of coffee rose to his nose, breaking his concentration, sapping his power. What was coffee doing in the casino?

He tried to shrug it off, cocking his arm for the throw, sweeping it forward through what had become almost a brown haze of coffee, his fingers opening…

His eyes opened to the morning. "Oh, shit," he moaned, knowing that he had to get up, and that, in any event, the dream could not be reclaimed.

Grunting, he sat up in bed and took a deep breath and grimaced. His mouth tasted as if a vacuum cleaner bag had been emptied into it.

It was not going to be one of his better days.

He forced himself up and stumbled into the shower and twenty minutes later, looking almost alive, he sat at the kitchen table.

Janet came over to him, most of her clearly visible as she stepped through a sunbeam. She leaned down to kiss him, the front of her peignoir opening to give him a great view of her tits, clear down to the nipples, and he smelled the faint scent of lilacs.

"Good morning, master," she said. "How'd it go last night?"

He forced himself to nod.

"Did you win?"

"A little," he lied, hating himself for it. "Six bucks." As far as Janet knew, the most he'd ever lost was twenty dollars. She'd said nothing that time, just looked at him with those big, hurt, reproachful eyes.

"Where's Penny?" he asked. His daughter's appearance an a warm, early summer morning, all fresh scrubbed rosy cheeks and long, flashing legs and pony tails bobbing with little mosquito bites of breasts pushing cutely at her shirt was enough to brighten his morning.

He corrected himself. The mosquito bites had gown. Considerably.

"She doesn't have to be in till ten today, so I lot her sleep. This is the last day of the year, you know, and all she has to do is go in for her report."

"Oh," He sipped at the coffee, found it tepid, and swigged it down. "Another cup, please?"

"Sure, whatever you want, master," she said. It sounded somehow reproachful and he felt guilty.

He had another cup of coffee on the train to the city. And when he reached his office, he was finally awake – fully.

Which meant that he could only contemplate his losses more clearly.

He went to his office, composing his face so as to appear deep in thought, the better to avoid acknowledging the calls of "Good morning, Mr. Jamison!" as he went through the different cubicles.

Tom Jamison was a sales manager for that same tire company, long, hard-working years after the day when he'd met Janet while filling tire orders in Washington. He had a private office, a walnut paneled room with a large window and plush carpeting underfoot.

He'd no sooner settled behind the wide chrome and rosewood desk and reached for the intercom button when the door opened and his secretary walked in.

Flowed in.

Allison Warner was one of the girls who would always get the finer things in life, the breaks, the cream – and she would get them one way or another. She was young – barely twenty-three – very pale blonde, with creamy, ivory skin, bright blue eyes and a pair of lips that men wanted only to cover with their own. She always wore a pale shade of lipstick, to make her lips look cool and untouchable, knowing full well that they were too lush, too pouting for the effect to work, that the pastel shades would only make her the more desirable.

She was tall and willowy, very long-legged, with flat, boyish buttocks and lanky thighs that rippled beneath her dresses. Her throat was graceful and smooth, and she had a way of holding her head just so that made it seem that she was challenging men to persuade her to… to anything.

She had high, firm breasts that fit the palms of Tom Jamison's hands perfectly, with large, strong nipples that swelled out into his fingers like walnuts when she was aroused.

She flowed into the room. In her hands were a tray and on the tray was coffee and orange juice. It wasn't brought out of tenderness or thoughtfulness; he knew that. He knew she perpetrated such considerations for the same reason she did everything: because it might get her something.

"Good morning, Mr. Jamison," she said brightly, in subtle contrast to the bird cries of the others.

He nodded. His eyes were fixed on her slim, taut body beneath the simple summer dress she wore. It was deep blue, with white hem and accent stripe, and the combination only served to heighten her aura.

But as she walked, her legs glided beneath the dress and her breasts thrust against the fabric. It was almost sufficiently lightweight to make out the coloration of her nipples beneath, but not quite. It was almost flimsy enough to make her pubic patch visible as a silvery fire glinting beneath – but not quite.

Enough to tease, he thought angrily, knowing all the same that he wanted her.

She carried the tray around to his side of the desk, rustling to stop beside him and placing it on the desk. Her arm brushed his and for a moment, he thought the twist of her body would press one of those perfectly formed tits against the side of his head.

But knowing Allison, he should never have wondered. It didn't.

Instead, she stood beside him, looking down and said, softly. "Anything else… Mr. Jamison."

"Yes." He put one hand about her waist, savoring the incredible slimness. He knew that her waist was the same as his wife's, but somehow, that did nothing to temper his admiration. His other hand began to slide up her thigh, pulling the hemline up with it.

"Please, Mr. Jamison," she whispered, in just the light tone of huskiness to make him certain he had to have her. She pulled away and began striding towards the door, her hips moving liquidly beneath the dress, pressing those sponge rubber firm ass cheeks back against the dress, making the fabric twitch.

He was out of his chair and across the room within seconds, standing between her and the door. This was the way it had been the first time. This was the way it had been every time, even after he figured out the way she was using it.

"Mr. Jamison, what are you doing?" she asked disdainfully.

That cinched it. He took a step towards her. She backed, up a step. He took another step. She turned, ready to run.

Then he grabbed her arms, high up above the elbows. And this too was like the other times, except for one thing. This time he grabbed her arms in such a way that she was faced any from him.

And instead of pawing and grappling her until she met his tongue kiss momentarily before letting herself slip slowly to the thick carpet at his feet, this time he pushed her ahead of him towards the desk – quickly.

She automatically put her hands up in front of her to brace her impact against the desk, but that wasn't what he had in mind. He suddenly stopped, put one arm about her slim waist, the other hand high up on her back at the base of her neck, and pushed her so that she leaned forward.

She tried to struggle, this time in earnest, but Tom knew what he wanted, and he was going after it.

He grabbed a handful of the dress at the small of her back, a large enough handful so that the garment was tight about her, then kicked her legs father apart until she looked like a disproportionate tripod – two legs spread at a forty-five degree angle, arms stuck close together on the desk.

He gathered and bunched the material till it was high up on her thighs, then revealing the smooth, flawless, curve of her buttocks encased in the shimmering silk of her panties and garter.

Then with a single movement, he brought his other hand up under her dress to the waistband of the panties and ripped them off her – not pulled them down or tore them off, but ripped them with a powerful stroke.

She sucked in her breath and he saw her ass cheeks tighten involuntarily.

Without further preliminaries, he unzipped his pants and fished out his dick.

Tom was not especially large as these things go, but his hard-on was throbbing and pulsating, all eight inches of it.

And as he looked at her cunt. As he eyed her compact little pubic, bush, so pale and silvery blonde and tightly curled, he knew exactly where he wanted to put his pecker.

He stepped forward and the knob of his cock bumped into her bare, quivering ass cheeks.

She started to twist her upper body around towards him, her face just beginning to betray an uncertainty. "Now Tom, don't be too – OW!"

She bit the sound back quickly. She jerked her head and neck back straight ahead, then dropped her head so that she stared right down at the desk top between her anus.

Tom had suddenly taken her hips in both hands, tilted them at the juncture of the small of her back and her little ass so that the gathered material of her dress stayed up there, bent his knees for the proper alignment and then jabbed forward so that the broad glans of his dick mashed her pussy lips flat against the pubic bone for an excruciating second before finally giving way before the force of his superior object and caving in ahead of the onrushing prick tip.

The head of his dick was lodged inside her, and he couldn't help noticing, with some satisfaction, that she was already well-lubricated. Did she enjoy these little office romps and use them as a stepping stone later only for self-justification? Or was it that this was the way she wanted it to be – her haughty bluff called, her clothes torn any, and some man shoving eight inches of hard shaft right up her cunt whether she liked it or not?

Either way, it a what he wanted, and on that particular morning. Tom Jamison was going to do what he wanted.

"Easy-ea-sy-easy," she sobbed. But he could feel her vaginal muscles contracting on him, see the glistening droplets of her own aroused secretion rolling down the insides of her sleek, limber thighs.

He dug his fingers into her hips and pushed forward, leaning back so he could watch as inch by inch, the entire length of his angry cock was absorbed into the tight channel of her twat.

He loved to watch the sight of her little pussy lips stretched about his cock, loved it almost as he loved the feel of it. And he enjoyed it the more for the way she squirmed and wriggled her hips as if trying to escape for a moment, only to jerk her as back at him to hasten the insertion of another inch.

With a sudden lurch, he buried the last two inches inside of her, and noted with satisfaction the way her knees momentarily buckled as she felt his prick ram hard up against the cervical opening at the end of her cunt tunnel.

Already she was beginning to rotate her hips. The small spasms were getting to her and he could actually see her tight little cunt lips tightening about him in time with her inner contractions.

He pulled his cock back halfway and then drove it into her quim with all his strength, as if he were trying to batter and bruise her. Tom wanted to fuck her harder and more thoroughly than she'd ever had it before in her life, to fuck her right out of her haughtiness and aloofness and disdainfulness, to fuck her right off her high horse and make her beg for more.

He slammed his hips hard against her, reveling in the feel of her cool ass against his abdomen. Already, he could feel his balls tightening as the juice swirled inside him, the long tube on the underside of his prick tightening in dry-run preparation for the ejaculations to come.

She was responding to him, responding in a way she had never let herself go before. She was arching her ass high up towards him, sobbing almost gratefully with each brutal thrust of his dick into her. Ref hips were moving up and down, side to side, pushing back to meet his attack, then sliding forward with the impact of his ramming.

And with every penetration of his prick into her tunnel, with every surge of his loins up to her receptive tint, another minor explosion of breath, so basic, so emotion-filled that he couldn't be sure if it expressed pain, pleasure or both, escaped her pale, cool lips.

He stopped, suddenly, and kicked her legs still wider apart. Now his prick was jammed into her at an awkward angle. Now, when he pressed into her, the top of his dick rubbed up against the upper limits of her pussy, where it folded into the short, sensitive stretch of skin between her cunt and ass.

His eyes fixed on her ass, on the tiny, button-sized opening. He pictured what it would look like to have his cock crammed into that unstretched little aperture. And from the way she was moving her ass up at him, wiggling her fanny, he had the distinct feeling that she would love it – that she would get off on that sexual submission even more than she was getting off on having his rock hard dick plowed into her without regard to her feelings.

He put his hand high up on her back and pushed her upper torso down. Her arms folded up and she had her face pressed down close to his desk top – then her forehead actually rested on it. He could see her breasts, nipples swollen, stretching downward, in the reflection off the glossy rosewood surface. He could see the muscles of her stomach, tensed and easily visible, rippling and contracting across her belly with each thrust of his penis.

Her cunt contracted on him, powerfully, the muscles at the entrance of her honey hole clamping down on his cock like a virgin pussy. He knew she was coming, knew it even before he saw her jerking without beat over the desk, and that was the last impetus his already straining balls needed.

Tom grunted like a rutting animal. He crashed his loins forward at her. At the same time, he dragged her hips back at him.

The two met in an explosion, and he felt the head of his cock press into the aperture of her cervix.

"Aaahh-iee!" she grimaced, telling what she felt deep inside her. Her cervix had been forced open just enough to admit the top part of Tom's gums and then snapped shut again.

But as each spasm shook Tom, as the tube running along the underside of his cock swelled and jerked with the frothy spunk burning through it, as the torrents of fuck erupted from the tiny pee-slit in the head of his cock and shot into her womb, landing with heavy, telling splashes, she spasmed all along the length of her vagina and her cervix dilated and contracted as well, massaging the head of his cock like knowing lips.

She was coming as well, coming at the same time he was. He could see her ass clenching and unclenching, feel her hips jerking, out of time with his own, follow the way her long, sleek thighs trembled and her knees weakened. In the glassy reflection on the rosebud surface of the desk, he could see her stomach squeezing and tightening as she felt the jets of his heavy cream landing inside of her.

It seemed like he came for a long time, but finally, his spasms slowed, became halting, irregular. And then, when at last they stopped and his cock began to shrink inside of her and she was simply shuddering in the last throes of her own coming, he suddenly and without warning, pulled his prick out of her.

Even the stimulus of that wilted penis being yanked out of her tight pussy elicited powerful sensations within the young woman. She began to take, her entire body quivering, as if she were starting into a seizure, a fit of some kind. She let her upper body go flat onto the desk, top and reached around with her own hand to take her clitoris between thumb and two fingers and twiddle it till she gave a tiny screech, a last, great, slow motion shiver – and then limpened.

Tom pulled his pants back up and did his belt, then tucked his shirt in. He stood there, forcing himself to calmness, fighting the weakness from his draining orgasm.

He looked down at her exposed cunt and pubic hair, matted with her own secretions and the drooling overflow of the cum he'd shot into her just moments before. He looked down at her smooth, pale ass, and the tiny hole peering out from between. He looked down at her wide-spread legs and the way the muscles at the backs of her thighs still contracted.

He looked down at this, noting the heaving of her back as she sucked in great draughts of air. Then he put his hands on his hips and said, quietly, "Well," drawing out the word, "if you're quite finished shall we proceed with the day's business, Allison?"

She groaned and pushed herself up from the desk top. There were two damp, circular spots left on the glossy surface where her breasts had pressed, and a single, wider, less defined area where her stomach's convulsive contractions had dampened the high polish.

She stood up straight, one dainty, manicured hand still flat on the desk as much for support as balance, and slipped her feet back into her high heels. They'd fallen off sometime in the course of the encounter, though Tom wasn't sure just when and strongly doubted that she knew any better than he.

When she turned to face him, her face was as composed as it ever was – except for the two spots of bright color, high up on her cheeks, in lingering testimony to her ecstatic responsiveness to his crude fucking.

"Uh, I must obtain some panties somewhere, Mr. Jamison," she said, still trying to catch her breath. "You have quite destroyed mine and I can't go around without panties."

He stared at her long and hard before answering. When he did, he made his voice a dismissal of such concerns as pure pettiness. "Have one of the girls from the secretarial pool run out and get you some pantyhose," he said. "You've never hesitated to use them for personal business before."

At that, the two spots of color spread. She'd thought none of the executives knew of her tactic of brow-beating the lowly girls in the pool. "Take two or three bucks out of the coffee kitty."

"Do you expect me to go outside, into the outer office, without any panties to get the money?" she asked, some of that haughty tone returning.

"I expect you to have the entire affair taken care of within five minutes," he said coldly. "However you do it."

She stood uncertainly in the middle of the carpet, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as her boss calmly walked around behind his desk and sat down.

When she realized that he wasn't going to take her hint and fetch the money himself, she whirled and stalked to the door, each stride bringing the hem of her dress up almost to her flat ass cheeks. Then she halted, smoothed the dress down, and stepped into the outer office corridor.

A few moments later, she returned, face livid, lips drawn tightly back in anger. "The mail boy brought these," she said tensely, and tossed a few envelopes onto the desk.

"You will pick them up, Allison," he said.

She gave him a look of defiance, a look that melted as he gazed unwaveringly into her eyes. Then she bent both knees and picked it up.

Of course, in so doing, the hem of the dress crept up and he could, quite clearly, see the still gleaming lips of her pert young cunt peeping out from between the soaked, matted mess of her pubic hair.

Then he realized why she'd been so angered by the mail boy. The coffee kitty was kept in the only drawer of her desk which locked – the bottom drawer on the aisle side. The mail boy must have gotten a show to fuel his fires for a year to come, Tom thought and it made him smile to himself.

She saw that smile and it angered her so that she couldn't restrain the words. "I think you had better wipe that smirk off your face, Mr. Jamison. You know how word gets around here. Especially between us girls."

He continued smiling. "Listen, cunt," he said in a quiet voice filled with venom, "if this gets out, I'll do it to you again – just as hard, the way you love it."

Her face went scarlet again. Did she think I didn't know how much she was turned on? he wondered. Then he continued. "The only difference is, this time I'll stick it up that tight, hairless little ass of yours. And then you'll know what it feels like to really be taken by a man."

Her jaw sagged. "You wou…" She cut herself short. The expression on her face told him that she would.

For the rest of the morning, her primary difficulty was concealing the way her cunt was secreting its sloppy juices from him. Because every time she thought of Tom fucking her with that enormous weapon of his, her pussy starts drooling again. But then, it wasn't her pussy that would suffer if he did.

Tom's humor was improved by the time he got home. He prided himself on his self-discipline, on being able to keep problems unrelated to home out of his home.

His daughter's enthusiastic greeting helped, too. Penny was barely thirteen, and her happy hug, pressing firm, budding young breasts against him through her T-shirt and his jacket, only served to remind him that his little girl wasn't so little any more. He heard the years creeping up.

Her enthusiasm wasn't however, strictly due to his return home. She'd gotten her report card. And her average was well over a B.

He didn't need her gentle reminder. He'd promised her a phone of her own is she achieved the grade average.

So despite his gladness at her good marks, despite his mellow happiness at realizing that his little girl was developing into a lovely young woman, he still could not escape his money troubles.

CHAPTER THREE

Tom stayed late Friday night, making his calls to locate a game after Janet went to bed. She seemed miffed at that, but he was too preoccupied to notice it overmuch.

He spent much of Saturday doing the kind of annoying, petty little chores around the house, yard and car that always seem to devour the first really decent Saturday of summer. Before he was really aware of it, it was six-thirty, and he was wolfing down his dinner and hurrying out to the game.

By midnight, he was up about fifteen dollars. A half-hour before, he'd been almost a hundred to the good, but Tom was a sport and was at that point, unreasonably early to leave.

Nonetheless, his luck went bad on him, and by midnight, he'd lost all of his earnings except the fifteen. No one really minded him leaving at that point. They all had played with Tom separately on previous occasions and all knew how much he enjoyed the game. They accepted without question his contention that he had to get home at a reasonable hour, at least an this night.

Tom was disappointed that he hadn't won enough to cover the cost of the phone in that one game. But as he drove home, twisting the car through the dark, winding streets, he sat straighter, more proudly in the seat. He had, after all, quit when he really didn't want to, proving to himself that he could knock off any time he decided.

And that was a question that had been nagging him. He'd seen the public service ads regarding compulsive gamblers and gambler's organizations modeled after A.A.. Considering how his luck had been going the past few weeks – and the way he kept coming back for more, gluttonous for punishment – it seemed reasonable.

But no more.

Janet was already sleeping soundly, her smooth, sleek curves beneath the sheets a taunt to him for his negligence of her charms. He debated briefly slipping up behind her; that wonderful ass of her lodged tightly against his abdomen, his cock hard and long between her legs, but decided against it. It wouldn't be much appreciated if he woke her from such a sound sleep.

On Sunday, Janet took Penny to the annual bake sale at the auxiliary. Janet was noticeably cool towards him. They called him – in the middle of the eighth inning – and informed him that they were stopping for a hamburger on the way home.

Later they called and announced they were going to a movie.

And he should not wait up.

All right, all right, he thought. I got the message already!

He was generally feeling peeved with the world when he reached his office on Monday. The first thing he did was call Penny at home and tell her to call the phone company. Then he had to listen to her excited chatter about what a neat idea Mom had to eat out and what a swell idea it was to go to the movies – and an R flick at that!

He got that message, too – indirect and subtle as it was, even though his daughter didn't know who was relaying a message.

The next thing he did was snap at Allison, and all she had done was bring him light coffee instead of regular. She'd already been looking at him strangely, curiously subdued with him. He wasn't able to figure that out until he found such mannerisms in her accentuated after he barked at her. She craved having a man dominate her with force of personality as well as with a hard cock!

It made his cock rise within his trousers thinking about it, especially when he thought of her pussy lips, so much like little Penny's, closing over the broad back of his prick as he ran it into her cunt.

Then the phone rang.

"Yes?"

"A Mr. Gilson asking for you by name on line two," Allison said with demure, husky appeal.

"Okay," he said curtly. For a moment, he couldn't pull the name out of the thoughts swirling through his head.

"Tom Jamison here," he said, pressing the button.

"Hi, Tom, this is Jake Gilson," boomed the voice, twanging with more Texas fervor than a country music jockey. Then Tom identified him. Jake Gilson, of the Gilson chain. The drawl gave him away.

"Yessir, Mr. Gilson, what can I do for you?" he asked. He'd dealt with a number of people working out of the Southwest and found they liked to sound friendly and expansive, but preferred and expected to get right down to business with New Yorkers.

"Well, Tom, I got into New York this morning, and I thought I'd give you a call. I was impressed with what your men had to say and your proposals and I'd like to talk with you some more on them. When can we get together?"

Tom flipped through his appointments calendar madly, quickly assigning priorities to the notes he saw.

"Tell you what, Mr. Gilson, how about meeting me for a late lunch, say, about three-thirty, and then we'll talk a little nitty-gritty. What do you say?"

Gilson said fine and Tom took his address, but not before Gilson asked him where he could find a good game of five card.

Tom answered the question truthfully. The break lightened Tom's mood for the rest of the day. He attacked his work with redoubled energy until Janet called him at two-thirty.

"Honey, I just got a call from the bank. They say our credit card is at the limit."

He remembered the trip for beer – and a stake to the game.

"Hmmm. Must be some error."

"That's what I told them."

"I'll check it out and clear it up," Tom said. "What were you going to use it for?" A shot in the dark, that, hopefully would put her on the defensive.

"I had to pick up some new clothes for Penny," she answered sweetly. "Our little girl is busting out all over."

He smiled, softly. "Can you cover it with cash?"

"I don't think so. And there's a good sale on at…"

"I'll take care of it right now, then, Janet. Bye-bye."

He told Allison he was leaving for the day, watching her eyes flash as she made the incorrect connection between the call from his wife and the sudden departure. Only at the door did he inform her of his actual destination – to meet Gilson.

First he stopped at the bank and made the payment onto the account, returning the money he'd advanced himself and restoring the credit line. But that left him short for the phone bill.

He decided to let it ride an extra month on his own bill. He paid the bills at home and Janet need never know. He'd just scrimp the extra together over the next month.

But then, there was the meal with Gilson. He went over to the loan officer and asked for one of the bank's often advertised short order personal loans.

And was informed that he could pick up his money on Tuesday – the next day.

Tom restrained himself, thanked the man politely, and left the bank. There was only one place, or one man, who could give him the kind of money he needed on the spot. But that man wasn't exactly listed in the yellow pages.

The shoe shine man was, the contact. From there, Tom strode quickly west to the address. He'd been expecting to find a seedy little room with cracked plaster and a slovenly man in mismatched, rough clothes. What he found was a gentleman, dressed in the most conservatively impeccable taste, sitting behind a desk in an office that outdid his own for elegance. The loan shark – and Tom found it hard to think of him that way – very patiently explained to Tom exactly what he was getting himself into.

"I'd rather lose business at the outset than lose it permanently," the man explained soberly. Tom, nodded.

And left with three hundred in bin pocket. He had five weeks to pay it back at three percent a week.

He was sure he could meet the terms easily. And besides, his mind was filled with the sugar plums of Gilson's account. Tom wasn't really thinking much beyond that. All he could see was the huge amounts of money that would come to him as salary and bonus for landing the account, and titers was no doubt in his mind that he could pay the man back, even at such an exorbitant rate.

He found Gilson in the lobby of his hotel, big as nil Texas and twice as Texan. As soon as Gilson took his hand in one big paw, pumping it and drawling away, Tom found himself annoyed by the man's appearance and mannerisms. Gilson wore cowboy boots, a ten-gallon hat, a flashy suit and was barely understandable when he spoke. Tom was bothered by the way Gilson made himself a caricature of Texans. Tom had known and worked with a lot of Texans, including quite a number from Dallas. But none of them ever behaved like a cowboy, and, none of them acted like a comedian imitating a Texan.

They ate in a small restaurant on Fifty-Sixth, a place that was up a flight of ornate, wrought hut steps and had only nine tables.

It was usually a great place to talk business. But not with a man whose vocal volume seemed intended to override the thundering hoofbeats of a herd of longhorns.

Tom was easily able to tell that Gilson wasn't nearly as crude and unrefined as he tried to be. When he chose his selections from the menu, his pronunciation of the French words was impeccable, and never did he ask for the contents of any of the dishes.

Tom selected one of the pastries from the cart brought to their table and at last opened the discussion of business.

He was a skilled and experienced salesman and realized that without his years of experience on the road dealing with sharp-witted New Englanders and frugal owners of back-road stations in the forests of Washington, he wouldn't have had a chance. Gilson had a terrific way of weaving and bobbing around commitments. But Tom wore him down with persistence, unwaveringly boring in on the basic terms that his company was offering until Gilson finally leaned back in his chair, holding up both hands as if surrendering to the marshall and said, "Tom, boy, let's hold off here a bit. Let me think over what you've been saying to me, sort of mull it over like a cow with a good cud, and see how good it tastes after a night's sleep. You know, I never offered a thing in my stations except gas. This tire business is sort of a test for us – if it works out right, we'll be bringing in a complete service department. That means – well, hell, Tom, boy, you know what all goes into that."

"I sure do," Tom said calmly. But his mind was running amuck. If he could bring in the tire account and then reel in the entire service department contract trough it, it could be his ticket to the top.

"And naturally, I plan to see how well things go with the tires first, and if they do alright, well, Tom, that's one hell of a step in the right direction for the service line."

"You're a businessman," Tom said easily. "You know how these things work and the fact that you're on top shows it."

Gilson laughed loudly. Very loudly, drawing reproving glances from all about the little restaurant. "Well, Tom, boy, what do you say you and me get a move on and have ourselves a little fun and relaxation. Any ideas where I can find that poker game?"

CHAPTER FOUR

The game was in a comfortable townhouse on Riverside Drive. Tom had played there a few times before, but usually stayed away, from it. For one thing, the stakes had a habit of going out of sight in a hurry. For another, the players there were usually too sharp for him.

But he was, at least, well enough known there and among the regular players to be able to gain admittance and bring a friend. And it was a gentleman's game. No chips were purchased. It was simply understood that you paid up either afterwards or within twenty-four hours. No one welshed. It would be suicide.

Gilson's eyes gleamed as the first hand was dealt. And as Tom had expected, once he settled down, Gilson was a hell of a poker player. Most of the players lost fifty or sixty.

Except Tom. He lost two hundred and twenty dollars.

By next morning, the full impact of what he was into hit Tom – hit him hard.

His legal credit was at its limit. He had a debt to a loan shark. He'd last another two hundred plus – on credit – to the shark's organization's card pine. And then there was the phone he'd promised Penny.

The only positive thing pending was that it looked like he'd successfully gotten Gilson's account sewed up.

"Are you all right?"

The change in Allison's attitude from haughty coolness to overt solicitousness was obvious. Perhaps, he thought, I should fuck hell out of her once a week.

He snapped his mind back to his troubles, scheming. He needed to make a payment to the shark – soon. How to raise. He had it. First, he called his friends and persuaded them to move the poker game up to that very night. Then he had a bouquet of apology – for his lack of consideration – sent to his wife. Then he started to leave, to go to the bank for a loan against his house and soon-to-be-increased income.

Gilson called just as he was leaving. He was going out of New York for two days, and was favorably inclined on the deal.

It was starting to look like he'd made it. Until about six-thirty. Then Janet dropped her little bomb. The bank had sent an updated credit statement.

Tom had no choice but tell her the whole story, except about the loan shark and the debts owed there. And he pointed out what was happening with the Gilson account, finishing by saying, "And if it works out – and I've got that gut feeling it will – salesman's instinct – this could put me over the top at the company."

Janet wanted to believe him, wanted to understand, wanted to hear that it was exactly what it was a major problem to come between them, because nothing else could. She seemed eager to help.

So he decided to drop hip little bomb about the game he'd moved up to that night.

Her face was blank with amazement for a moment.

"Call it off, Tom. Call them and cancel it."

"No," he said decisively. "I have to bring some of that money back so I can keep my promise to Penny."

"Tom, I don't want any gambling in my house!"

"It's our house," he said firmly. "After tonight, no more. But tonight I have to play – for Penny."

"Tom," she said coldly, "if you play tonight, so will I!"

He chuckled. "You don't know a damn thing about cards. And besides, what will you use for money?"

She stood, eyes flashing. "I'll think of something!" And stalked out of the room.

Tom stopped her with the tone of his voice, a tone she had never heard used before, at least not with her as the object. "You push it, Janet," he said coldly, angrily, "and I'll make you regret it like you've never regretted anything in you life."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" she snapped, whirling on him with bands on hips. Her breasts heaved out towards him, taunting him with the reminder of his neglect of her youthful passions and succulent flesh.

But Tom was angry. What the hell did she want of him? He'd already confessed everything to her – everything he dared – and humiliated himself for her? Just what more did she expect.

"I don't think you'd enjoy finding out," he said and picked up a newspaper.

Janet stared at him, eyes flashing for a moment, ten turned and stalked up the stain to the bedroom.

For some reason, everyone drank more than usual that night. Maybe it was the suddenly oppressive June heat. Maybe it was the change from the regular night. Maybe it was merely that Tom drank two beers in a hurry and the others picked up on it.

But whatever it was, by ten-thirty, everyone was a little high.

It was then that Sid Koenig rubbed his balding head and asked the question all had been soiling about in their beery heads.

"Hey, where's Janet tonight, Tom?"

The others mumbled similar sentiments.

And at that moment, as if on cue, Janet appeared. And if the eyes of the men usually followed her hungrily, tonight there was downright lust in their expressions.

And that was precisely the way she'd planned it.

She paraded into the room, wearing a T-shirt of Tom's that was anything but concealing. Beneath it, her breasts moved and bobbled, nudging each other softly on the huggable expanse of her ribcage. Her nipples were dark spots behind the pale cotton, and there was a hole at one armpit that moved and tantalized with every step she took.

She wore an old pair of blue-jean cut-offs that had shrunk in the wash once and had since lain in the back of a drawer. They were far too tight for her, exhibiting every fluid swell of her rounded ass as she strode languorously into the room. She wore no panties beneath them. That was obvious by the way the seam of the shorts pressed up between her pussy lips, compressing her pubic thatch so that the hairy forest was clearly evident behind the tight fabric.

The friction of the rough jean fabric against her exposed clitoris sent a rush of blood to her pussy lips, making them swell and become the more sensitive for her arousal.

She was acutely aware of the eyes of the men on her, of the way Koenig, in particular, was watching her cunt move within the jean material. George and Russ, both once lean, now paunchy, former college athletes, had their eyes fixed on the moving spot of bare flesh exposed by the tear beneath the armpit, hoping, wishing, praying for a glimpse of Janet's tit, bare and exposed.

She was aware of their eyes and their thoughts and of the bulging cocks in their pants. And it excited her, challenged her. She glanced pest and trough her husband, as if he weren't there, aware of the arousal beginning to flicker in his eyes as well. Tom had his eyes on her strong, smooth, evenly tanned thighs, and he was thinking of what it was like when she opened them to him, with the gash of her cunt gaping in wet, hot, yearning for his cock, exposed and waiting for him to shove it in.

But tonight, she was putting on a show for the other men, a show that she wanted to use to impress upon her husband just how lucky he was to have a woman like her as his wife.

She stood between her husband and Russ. Russ' eyes never left her tits; neither did George's.

Koenig was directly across the table from her. He put his cards flat on the table, then twined his fingers and leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands.

Leaning forward that way, he was able to see past the edge of the table to the tops of Janet's full thighs, where the edge of the frayed blue fabric was tight on her flesh, where the lips of her juicy cunt were clearly spread and outlined.

She saw his eyes move slowly down over her, starting with her slightly dismayed chestnut hair, moving down over her finely molded facial features to her graceful throat to the great, wonderfully rounded swells of her lovely breasts, with the mountain peak tips of her nipples beginning to harden and point with her arousal, to the taut, trim intake of her tummy, to the tight stretch of fabric over her flat abdomen, to the swell of her cunt mound and the spilt of her cunt.

His eyes moved over her add she knew that in his mind, it was his hands or his lips or his tongue, and she tried to picture Koenig naked, aroused. What, she wondered, would his penis look like?

She had a momentary mental image of a great, huge, fat cock, purple and swollen and throbbing with lust, jutting out into the dimness over her while she lay on the bed beneath him, waiting anxiously for him to separate her cunt lips and drive the length of his broad cock into her yearning slot.

She banished the thought from her mind. She was, after all, just out to tease a little bit and remind her husband which side his bread was buttered on.

But then her eyes met Koenig's and she flushed hotly. For an instant, it seemed to her that his eyes were looking inside her head and seeing the fantasy her overheated mind had concocted, seen it and laughingly approved and encouraged and read in it a sign of her submission to the lust growing inside him even as that huge monster of a dick of his swelled in her hands as she pressed her lips to it.

She drove away the thoughts again.

"Well, aren't you boys going to ask me to join you?" she purred seductively, letting her hands slide down her sides to her hips. Her pelvis came forward slightly, thrusting her already prominent pubis aggressively forward and heaving her breasts out for all of them to see and note and think of and wish for.

"We sure are," Koenig said, starting to push aside to make room for her beside him.

But already Russ had shifted his chair to one side, reached back with one arm and brought forward another. "Why, thank you kind sir," she said softly, taking the chair. Her eyes taunting Koenig as all of them shifted positions to make themselves more comfortable.

"You need money," Tom said. He'd already deduced what she planned to do, and in that exhibitionist's delight of an outfit she was almost wearing, he would have been able to spot any money she carried on her. She carried none.

"Well now, who's the big winner so far tonight, boys?"

"So far, Tom is up about fifty bucks," George said immediately. George was a CPA. He'd always had an excellent head for figures of all kinds.

"Well, then my man won't mind lending his little sweetheart a few bucks," she said throatily, and suddenly reached over and plucked a few bills from the pile in front of her husband.

The men around the table chuckled, and Tom had no choice but to chuckle right along with them.

"Well, what's the game, boys?"

"Ladies' choice," Russ answered immediately. His gaze was centered on her breast.

She shifted her arms on the table and both breasts jiggled in harmony as they moved within the white cotton.

"How about…" she looked around, meeting the eyes of each man in turn; she let her gaze linger on Koenig's an extra instant. "How about five card," she suggested. "Draw."

Koenig's face hardened and she wondered how hard his dick was, how hard and how thick and how long.

"I'll deal," Tom announced and took the cards. Quickly, he shuffled them.

George opened, Koenig saw and it came around back to Tom. His wife had covered the bet. He did as well.

They all drew and Janet held three in her hand. The betting went around again and she played it conservatively.

Tom didn't, though. He raised the bet by two bucks. And Koenig saw him. Russ and George folded.

Koenig took it with three nine's. Janet had a pair of Queens and an ace. Tom had nothing and folded down. He passed the deck to George who announced seven card.

After six hands, Tom was just about even. Koenig had taken four of those hands and one of the pots was big – almost twenty bucks.

Janet was down to four dollars. She hadn't taken a hand.

The betting went-around again and this time Janet leaned towards her husband.

She put one hand on his forearm as it rested on the table and let her fingers slide up to his shoulder then down over his back and on down out of sight along his side to below the table.

There, her hand moved unerringly across Tom's thigh to his groin and she let her hand rest on the bulge there. His cock jerked and so did Tom. The other men at the table smiled knowingly. "Won't you lend me a few dollars, lover?" she cooed.

He wanted to make it a joke, to turn it around on her, but he couldn't. Instead he quietly handed her ten dollars from his shrinking stake.

"Is that all you think I'm worth, lover?" she asked insinuatingly.

Without a word, Koenig pulled his wallet and peeled off a fifty, tossing it over in front of Janet.

She picked up the bill and held it between thumb and index finger, flicking her forefinger back and forth over the crisp edge of the bill. Somehow, the movement was incredibly seductive in the suddenly charged atmosphere.

She looked up and caught Koenig's smile and in that instant decided to play Koenig's naked lusts for all they were worth. "I see that Sid, at least, has an eye for quality."

She handed Tom his ten dollars back and then took his beer glass, tilting it tack and chugging almost half of it.

"Bravo," George said appreciatively. His eyes had followed the lifting of her tits within the shirt when she'd lifted the glass. Russ immediately reached over and replaced Tom's glass with his own, nearly full glass in front of her.

She looked from George to Russ and back again and then lifted the glass, emptying it with a few healthy chugs.

Just a faint tinge of froth remained around her lips and she licked it off, enjoying thoroughly the way the men leaned eagerly forward to follow every twitch of her tongue.

She smiled, and then flushed. She felt suddenly warm and was distinctly aware that the crotch of her jeans was becoming soaked with her pussy juices.

Alcohol had always had the effect on her.

"It's your bet, Janet," Tom said. He was going to show her that she couldn't rule him with her cunt. He reached deliberately down into his lap and removed her hand.

When he looked into her eyes, he saw defiance. "I'll make it five bucks," she said and plopped a one on the table.

Tom promptly raised it to six. They all saw him. When it came time for cards, all drew two except Koenig. He took one.

The betting began again. "Eight," Koenig said. "See you," said Russ.

"Janet?"

She looked over at her husband as if he'd just wakened her. "Oh, ten," she said.

Tom made it twelve.

George saw it. Koenig took it to fourteen. Janet to fifteen. Tom saw, George saw.

Koenig took it to seventeen. Russ folded. "This is going out of my league," he said and slipped his cards face down out into the center of the table.

Janet went to eighteen. Tom saw. George saw. "Twenty," Koenig said.

"Twenty-five," Janet snapped. Tom saw.

George folded.

"Hey, Sid, you tying to buy the hand?" Russ growled. He leaned towards Janet, eyes peering hungrily at the collar of the T-shirt, wishing it would move just enough to give him a glimpse.

Janet reached for George's beer. He got his gimps part way down one creamy, golden tanned swell of tit flesh.

"Sid," Russ confided, "tries to bet everyone up till they can't match him."

"Thirty-five," Janet said.

Tom saw. His pile was now gone.

"It's a sure sign that Sid hasn't got a damn thing," Russ continued. He glanced over to catch Sid's reaction. Sid was staring fixedly at Janet as if she were a piece of meat.

"Forty," Sid snapped. Tom groaned and folded his hand.

"Fifty," Janet barked defiantly and threw the last of her money into the pile.

"Fifty-five," Sid said, smiling evilly.

He was waiting for Janet to react. He didn't dare hope of getting the reaction he got.

Janet leaned over to Tom, hand going to his groin again. He thrust it away. She gave him a furious look. If that's the way you want it, she thought, letting it dangle in her mind.

"I'll see you," she said coolly.

Koenig smirked and pulled one of the long, fat cigars out of his pocket, slowly unwrapping it and snipping off the tip with a penknife he produced from the same pocket.

He leaned back in his chair and lit the cigar, turning it slowly as he puffed.

Then he blew a perfect little smoke ring, watched it slowly settle in the motionless air.

"You don't have any stake left," Tom said, not yet understanding.

Janet deliberately put out one hand and removed forty-five dollars from the pile. "I'll see you," she repeated, eyes meeting Koenig's without wavering.

"Wha…" George began.

"Mr. Koenig seemed to think I was worth fifty dollars before," she explained, eyes never leaving Koenig's.

Tom was as expressionless and unmoving as a statue. He was going to let her play the little game out and then make a fool of herself when it comes time to own up.

"Would you like to back down on that, Sid?"

"The only problem I can see," he said calmly, "is how to collect."

"If your hand is good enough," she said.

Koenig just waited. Then he nodded. "When?"

Janet cocked her head prettily, tilting her chin. She arched her eyebrows as if to say, Check back with you.

"Tonight, then," Koenig said. "All right."

"Let's see that hand."

Koenig hesitated an instant, as if to give her a last moment in which to call it off, to take it all back, to make it a kidding little charade. He was a sport, a good sport, and he wasn't a cruel man.

But he hesitated only a moment. For Koenig was also a lusty man, a horny man, a man who hadn't had a woman in more than a month.

And he'd lusted after Janet Jamison for some time.

He turned his cards over. Three kings. A pair of jacks.

Russ whistled, low and long.

Janet paled, then regained her composure. She turned over her own cards. Three Queens. A pair of nines.

She'd lost. Koenig had won, and he thought of having this seductress, hot and curved and fully fleshed, ripely molded breasts and strong hips, tight little waist and wanton thighs, mouth wet and luscious, cunt gaping and receptive. He thought of her feminine wetness closing over his rigid cock and he sighed deeply in anticipation.

Coolly, Janet took the cards and began shuffling for the next hand. Koenig lifted his glass and toasted her quietly.

"All right, now," Tom said hoarsely. "Enough of this fucking around and…"

At that moment, Koenig could have cared less about Tom's objections. Janet was willing. He could see that in her eyes and face and attitude and the way she watched him.

The words to answer Tom were on the tip of his tongue, but Janet spoke first.

She turned her upper body completely towards her husband, making it a taunt and a reminder and a reproach for all the nights when he'd left her alone and frustrated in their marriage bed, waiting vainly for him.

"Why, Tom," she said softly. "Don't tell me you expect me to welsh on a debt."

And she made her tone recall to his mind his own words earlier that evening, when he'd confessed his own growing gambling debts.

Tom looked furiously from Janet to Koenig, and back to her again. He could see on both their faces the animal lust, the need, the imperative to couple.

"You wouldn't dare," he said, though his voice betrayed his certainty that they not only dared, but intended to.

When no one spoke, Tom stood suddenly, his chair toppling behind him.

He stalked out of the room without another word, without looking at any of them. He went on out the door and a moment later they heard the car engine race and then the unmistakable wail of tortured rubber burning as he spun the tires before tearing out of the driveway and off down the street.

A tense, nervous silence settled over the table. Seconds crawled by.

Finally, Russ stood. "Well, I think this would be a good time to call it a might. What say, George?"

George nodded and began gathering what cash he had left. The others stood as well and began clearing the table off.

Janet took a double handful of glasses and began carrying them out into the kitchen. Russ and Sid finished clearing the things off while Janet began filling the sink.

George folded the table and chairs and put them back into the deep closet.

There was certain relaxing in doing the familiar things.

But soon, all was done except for the actual dishwashing. George left after brief good-nights.

Then Russ left his place drying the dishes and went into Sid, who was emptying the ashtrays. "Hey, Sid?"

"Yeah?"

"About ready to call it a night?"

Sid paused and gave Russ a strange look. As if Russ had just announced that he was pregnant. Then he resumed his doings.

"Sid?"

This time, Russ' voice was more urgent.

"What do you want, Russ?" Sid demanded impatiently.

"Sid, you're not really planning to…"

"And what if I am?" Sid snapped angrily, in a tone of voice he'd always reserved exclusively for his competitors, a tone and attitude he'd never shown his friends. Sid was a commodity trader.

Russ was shaken by it, but still angry. "Some fucking friend of Tom's you are," he grumbled and stalked out of the house.

Some fucking husband of Janet's, Tom is, he thought.

He went out into the kitchen and took up the place beside Janet, silently taking the dish towel and drying the glasses and snack plates.

She said nothing. But she was aware of him. And she exuded an uncertain fear and excitement.

And Janet was afraid – afraid of this brutish man, always so quiet and easy going, always quick with a joke and ready to help, who had suddenly revealed another side of himself to her, the side that lusted and wanted and desired.

And that fear set off a certain pulse of excitement in her, a pulse that made her think, in turn, of the fantasies that had flitted through her mind that night, images of Koenig, naked and roused, his big cock sticking out like a weapon, a dub, yearning for her frustrated slit.

And she was frustrated. She didn't think of her husband's flare of anger. She thought of the nights she'd lain awake, wishing he'd put aside the cards and come upstairs and take her with the passion and hunger that she loved to feel in her man.

At that stage though, she was almost willing to feel that lust in any man.

She was suddenly await that she'd stopped washing the dishes, that she'd been holding one in her hand for what seemed like endless seconds.

There were no more in the sink.

Koenig reached over and took the dish from her and set it down on the counter.

Janet automatically reached out and unplugged the drain. The water swirled quietly, rapidly down out of the sink.

She picked up the spray attachment and began rinsing the suds out of the basin.

"I'll do that," Koenig said, reaching for the sprayer. Somehow, it slipped and she sprayed herself. That brought her out of her reverie as the cold water quickly soaked through the front of her T-shirt and hit her warm, golden flesh.

She laughed, and so did Koenig, and the sexual tension grew as they quieted.

And then she was aware that he was staring at her. At her breasts, which were clearly visible in all of their ripe, firm, fully curved glory beneath the clinging, transparent cotton.

"Poor Janet," he murmured in his gravelly voice. "So lonely, never gets enough attention. Poor, poor Janet, all she wants is a little tenderness, a little loving from a man."

He went on and on. The sudden beers, the disagreements with Tom, the tension of the night – they all rolled up in her. As if mesmerized, she let Koenig take the sprayer, now forgotten and only dribbling, from her hand. He dropped it into the sink and turned off the faucet with one hand, while the other reached out and went around her trim waist.

He led her out of the kitchen and down the hallway towards the guest room, still murmuring softly to her, barely able to restrain himself from taking that hand from her waist and using it to tear off the T-shirt and shorts and open his pants and shove his throbbing erection into her hot snatch.

Koenig reached out and opened the door to the guestroom. She stepped in at his gentle urging and he flipped on the little night-light on the bedside table, as the door swung softly shut behind them.

The light was dim. He turned her to face him with her back to the bed.

Then Sid reached out with trembling hands and took the bottom of the shirt between his thick, strong fingers. He lifted it, peeling the wet cotton away from her flat belly and heaving breasts, exposing the luscious mounds of sensitive flesh to his lusting gaze.

Her breathing quickened as she let him lead the shirt up over her head. As her arms rose, her breasts heaved out towards him, tilting upward. They seemed to beg for his hands and lips and tongue to caress them and afford those rich curves all the attention they'd deserved and been denied for so very long.

Her arms came away free and she let thorn fall back to her sides. Her breasts echoed the movement with little ripples of soft flesh, little movements, shock waves, that only emphasized the pliability of those resilient mounds.

Koenig took her hands in his, pressing his thick, wide lips to her palm momentarily before guiding her fingers to his shirt front.

She began undoing the buttons.

Koenig released her hands and slid his own along her arms, savoring the touch of her soft, smooth shoulders under his fingers, then slipped both hands down inside her arms to rest lightly on the great, warm slopes of her breasts.

He moved his hand round and round her tits, letting his fingers know the joy of those full curves, before finally letting his hands come up beneath them, lifting and testing the heft of her breasts.

Her nipples were already stiffening, but under his touch, they blossomed into great, inviting buds of dark red, almost brown lust.

His shirt fell open, and her hands rested on the waist of his pants. Her fingers moved, and he felt the waistband open.

Koenig sucked in his breath as her hands then moved upward again, trailing through the thick mat of dark hair over his broad, muscular chest. Koenig was heavyset, but there was hardly an ounce of fat on him. He simply had a big frame, and he was solid with muscles. Even his stomach, which seemed at first to an excess, was almost flat – it was simply so wide that it seemed fat. It wasn't. His stomach was crossed with hard muscles just beneath a layer of flesh and hairs.

Janet pushed his shirt back off his shoulders, her eyes closed as if she did not want to see the man with whom she was doing this.

But that was all right with Koenig. He wanted her body, not her heart.

As her hands moved back down to his waistband and her fingers lowered his zipper, Koenig began moving slowly towards her.

She had his pants open and pushed them down, hooking her fingers into the waist elastic of his briefs as well. Both garments went lower, lower, as he drew nearer to her.

And then he was against her just as they dropped around his ankles. His prick popped free against her as his arms went around her, pulling her close to him. He kissed her lightly on the temple, then let his lips move slowly down the side of her head to her ears.

His tongue explored the inner windings as his teeth scraped over the shell-like edge. Finally, he nibbled gently on her ear-lobe.

He felt her suck in her breath, her breasts pushing against his bare chest, her swollen nipples like fiery points dining against him.

And then Janet became aware of something pressing, throbbing urgently against her. At first, she was confused by it, unable to comprehend what it could be so hard and throbbing and hot against her bared thigh, and then she realized it was Koenig's cock.

It's too big! No one can be that big! she thought.

But as his lips and tongue and teeth nibbled and kissed and licked down the side of her neck to her shoulder to lave the sensitive softness of her smooth shoulders, as he twisted his head to continue moving his mouth down towards the yearning flesh of her tits, she knew she wanted his cock.

But it was so big! She could feel it's thickness, throbbing against her through her shorts from just above her pubis down past the bottom of the leg of her shorts. She could feel the glans, fat and hard as a child's fist, pulsating against her thigh halfway to her knee.

His knees bent slightly and he brought his mouth down to her breasts even as his hand found and held her full, firm ass cheeks.

He traced his lips down along the gentle upper slopes of her tits, moving them as if he were speaking directly to her raw, overexposed nerve endings.

Koenig brought one hand up from behind her and with it lovingly lifted one abundant breast to his lips. He fastened his mouth over her nipple, sucking and licking it enthusiastically. Her nipple blossomed fully in his mouth, pulsating with arousal.

Janet groaned and shivered at his knowing caress of her sensitive tit-flesh. With one arm still wrapped around her, Koenig guided her backwards until the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed.

He eased her gently down till she lay supine, his mouth remaining glued to her resilient richly curved breast as he bent with her.

Koenig went to his knees beside the bed and kept up the telling movements of his lips and tongue an Janet's tits, working his way from one to the other and back again.

She was breathing hard, chest rising and falling magnificently under his ministrations. Her belly rippled, contracting with the pleasures the Koenig was giving her. Her hips rolled slowly from side to side, her elegantly farmed legs opening and closing in slow motion preview of orgasmic jerks to come.

Koenig slid one hand down over her bare stomach, past her navel, across the waistband of her faded, shrunken shorts to glide across the flat, taut expanse of her abdomen.

Janet brought one hand up to hold his head against her, to press his mouth more firmly into the soft, flowing flesh of her ripe, full tits while the other hand slid slowly down the hairy, heavily muscled length of his arm, finally coming to rest over his hand just as his fingers and palm slid between her thighs.

She arched her hips up in earnest, pressing her pubis firmly against him, reveling in the sensation of his hand on her cunt lips through the fabric.

Koenig began moving his hand, grinding his palm down on her clitoris through the tight fabric.

He slid his hand back up, running one fingertip beneath the flap of her zipper until he came to the end and deftly unhooked the snap at the waistband. Slowly, he drew the zipper down.

The flat, smooth expanse of her lower abdomen came into view between the ever widening zipper, and as more of Janet came into sight, Janet became more aroused.

She was completely lost in her lusts and desires, utterly abandoned to the need for a man's hands on her, a man's lips over her, a man's cock driven to the hilt in her.

The zipper reached bottom, and already some of the luxuriant bush of her pubic mat was visible. Long, smooth tendrils of chestnut brown fur, silky and curled, soft and inviting to a man's lips, poked out.

Koenig slipped his hand inside the tight fabric, wedging his thick fingers lower till they encountered the wet folds of her pussy.

His fingers immediately moved between those luscious extensions of blood-swollen, sensitive flesh, sliding down the length of her labia. His fingertips traced down until they came to the wrinkled, delicate flesh between her pussy and ass. Then he began bringing his hand back up, again skimming lightly over the soaked slot of her twat till they reached her clitoris.

He stroked her love nub, gently caressing the tip of the stiff, throbbing little shaft.

Janet gasped and jerked upward hungrily.

His head turned and he began kissing his way down between the sweet mountains of her breasts, in the warm valley of her cleavage while his fingers continued to work expertly at her pulsating clitoris. He kissed down over her belly, running his tongue into the tiny, dimpled depression of her navel, then continued to her abdomen.

Koenig slipped both hands up to Janet's hips, catching at the fabric of the open shorts and pushing it lower on her. She bowed upward, lifting her soft ass cheeks so the lusty man could finally remove that last article of clothing. Then she brought her legs up so he could pull her shorts off.

The shorts gone, Janet let her legs fail wide apart, offering herself without reservation to Koenig's hotly working mouth and hands.

His lips moved down still lower on her, and she could feel them moving in the upper reaches of her pubic forest. Again, it seemed to her as if he were speaking into her flesh, but whatever he was saying, it was working marvels inside her already overheated, long-frustrated body.

Koenig nipped at the crease of her thigh and Janet automatically bent her legs at the knees, pulling them still wider apart. Then she slipped one arm off the side of the bed and let it trail down over Koenig's powerfully muscled chest and hard stomach, down to the wiry growth above his shaft.

Her fingers finally reached his dick and she sucked in her breath at the size of it. It was every bit as large as she'd imagined it would be.

As she thought of having that rigid length of cock driven all the way into her hungry cunt, Janet let go another low groan of pleasured anticipation. She began jerking her hips up towards Koenig in short, sharp spasms just as his lips were working over inner thigh flesh to her quim.

"Oh, yes, that's it, that's it!" she cried as his mouth moved to cover her cunt. He sucked her blood-gorged pussy lips into his mouth and ran his tongue up and down the length of them. The tip of his tongue flickered over her thrusting little clit and Janet shivered at the shock waves of ecstasy he was sending rippling through her.

She felt Koenig's knee nudging her shoulder and she eased herself over on the bed.

Koenig climbed atop her, his thick, hard prick bumping against her tits, nestling in the softness between them and sliding back towards her face as he positioned himself once again for his muff diving.

She looked up and saw his hairy, dark balls throbbing over her face. Janet drew in a deep breath, savoring the musky male odor. She brought her own hands up to his hips and guided him still farther back over her.

He knelt with his thighs to either side of her, great, thick, strong columns of hairy muscle and sinew that led upward to his throbbing, swollen cock.

Janet felt his mouth again move to her cunt, but this time he thrust his lips between her cunt lips, his tongue reaching out to lap and explore inside that wet, warm passage. She felt his mouth muscle delving into her tight quim and groaned in fervent appreciation.

Janet grasped his broad hips, and guided him down lower above her. The underside of his broad shaft was within reach of her mouth, and she eagerly began tracing every vein, every sensitive bump along the length of it with her tongue.

It seemed to swell still larger and grow yet harder at her touch.

She brought one hand up and grasped the shaft of his cock, halfway down, and bent it towards her. She opened her mouth wide, tilting her head back. His prick was thick and at first, she could do no more than press her lips over the glans and suck at the little slit in the tip of it, working the tip of her tongue at the tiny opening. Koenig shuddered and jerked over her, sighed deeply into her honey hole.

But she kept wetting the knob of his dick, then opened her mouth to its widest and took the glans between her lips, sucking and working at it till her lovely, full lips were closed about the depressed ring of the flange behind the head of his cock, along the shaft.

She sucked at his dick, sending flames of pleasure shooting through the already aroused man. Koenig reciprocated, moving his mouth till his lips were fastened over the thrusting nubbin of her clitoris. He moved his lips from side to side, tightening and loosening them about the shaft of the erected little bud. His tongue whip lashed the tip of it, and Janet began writhing beneath his touch.

She continued sucking and working at the glans of his cock, pulling it more deeply into her mouth. Her tongue rasped over the velvety soft flesh, pressing and testing it till she could feel the steel-like stiffness behind the soft outer flesh. She worked her hand up and down over the rest of the shaft as if to masturbate him, her fingers light enough to glide easily, yet tight enough on him to squeeze and milk his prick.

Koenig pushed his loins down towards her and Janet just barely suppressed a moment of panic as she felt the knob of Koenig's prick press against the back of her throat. But she arched her head up towards him still more, swallowing and sucking till the head of his dick began driving down between the wet, warm, convulsing walls of her throat.

He nearly came on the spot. Only a few women had ever been able to give his cock the oral loving care it needed, but Janet was swallowing it whole.

He restrained his impulse to jam the entire length of it down her throat in a single, immediate lurch of uncontrollable passion and instead continued feeding it into her slowly, by fractions of an inch.

At the same time, Koenig brought both hands around beneath Janet's ass, digging his fingers almost brutally into the yielding mounds of firm flesh before slipping them between her thighs from behind.

Koenig's fingers moved along the furrow between her lovely buttocks, hesitating for a moment to prod and work at the rubbery tight pucker of her anal opening before moving on over the sensitive flesh between her legs to the lower readies of Janet's pussy.

All the time his lips and tongue continued their movements on her hard clitoris, sucking and licking and occasionally nipping gently at her sex nerve.

Janet gasped in shocked pleasure as she felt this thick thumb suddenly come up between the lower folds of her pussy lips. She'd been growing ever closer to an orgasm as she felt inch after inch of that thick rod slipping between her lips, over her tongue, bending about the slight curve in her throat and then throbbing down inside her. She could feel every spasm and jerk of his powerful prick inside her and still she wanted more.

Koenig worked his thumb inside her cunt, spreading the tight passage with his thick digit. She felt it rotating, moving slowly deeper into her till the knuckle was buried between her tightly clasping pussy lips.

Janet tried to open her legs still farther, and pulled all the harder on his hips. Another inch, then two, of his prick slid into his throat.

She couldn't quite believe what she was doing. She'd never before been able to take so much of a man in her mouth. Koenig's cock was only slightly longer than her husband's, but it was far thicker and harder. But here she was, with fully seven inches of Koenig's cock buried inside her mouth and throat. And not only was she able to do it, she was actually getting off on it!

And she wasn't satisfied. She wanted all of it, every last inch of that thick, hard prick, throbbing and twitching down her throat and inside her mouth. Janet gulped and swallowed again and again.

The last inch of Koenig's prick went between her lips. The base of his cock was thick, but she had it – every inch of it! She could feel his pubic hair tickling up against her nose his abdomen pressing. She could feel his balls inside their hairy sac draped against her chin, every jerk of ecstasy easily discernable. Her lips were pressed back tightly by the weight of his body driving his dick into her willing throat.

She could feel his cock throbbing on her tongue, against the back of her throat and somewhere, deep down inside her in the vicinity of the base of that lovely, flawless throat, the head of his dick shook and throbbed in delighted rapture at such warm, wet imprisonment.

Koenig's thumb was moving like a rotor inside her cunt, pressing and testing and exploring the walls of her quim. He was stunned and aroused more than he'd been in years by the way the woman had eaten him alive. He could feel her lips, tongue, tonsils and throat doing their separate, convulsive little dances over his broad, long shaft and he knew, even as she sucked, that it would only be seconds before he flooded her with his pent-up cum.

And he wasn't ready to shoot. Not yet. He wanted to hold off as long as he could. For one thing, he'd had the hots for the sexy young wife for a long time and he wanted to draw this first encounter out as long as possible, savoring every moment of it.

For a long moment, he held his loins still, just feeling the way her inner muscles moved over his cock. But then, slowly and carefully, he began to pump the long, hard prick, in and out of her mouth.

Koenig's hips jerked and his shaft was thrust between her lips. The head of his prick hit up against the back of her throat and she started to gag for an instant, but then she forced herself to relax. She was calmed by the certain knowledge that she could handle even such a huge dick as Koenig's with her mouth, and she sucked all the harder on it.

As Koenig felt the wet, hot tightness of her throat on his shaft, as he felt his prick being slowly swallowed down into Janet's throat, he was overcome with the sudden need to jam his penis up into her hot cunt. He knew that it would only take a few minutes of the kind of treatment she was giving him with her well-trained mouth to make him lose his load and he didn't want to flood her throat and stomach – at least not yet. He wanted to shoot his cum deep into her cunt, hard up and all the way into her womb.

He pulled his prick back, and Janet groaned as she felt him taking it away from her.

Janet sighed deeply with the satisfaction of knowing that in moments that huge prick would be dipping into her well of female secretions. Koenig turned around and soon had his cock pressing at her cunt.

She rubbed that thick glans up and down between her cunt lips, letting her juices cover and wet it and then spread the lips of her cunt as far as they would go.

"Now," she moaned, and Koenig pushed forward. The head of his dick pressed between her pussy lips and slipped halfway into her.

His dick was thicker than her husband's by far, but she knew she could handle it never the less. She wanted it, she needed it and she meant to have it!

Janet brought her legs up around Koenig's thighs, locking her ankles almost about his ass cheeks. She dug her heels into his flesh even as she brought her hands up around his broad back.

He pushed again and this time the knob went all the way inside before her ten so cunt clamped down on the shaft behind. She continued digging into his legs with her heels, jerking her hips up at him in her haste to have his cock inside her.

Koenig kept up the pressure, driving his prick into her by slowly torturous fractions of an inch. Gradually, bit by bit, she could feel her cunt absorbing his cock. It was as tough she had and her mouth down there, and she were slowly eating the length of his prick whole.

His dick head was pressing apart the walls of her vagina, straining at them, making way for the great, stiff shaft that followed in the tight passage. Janet felt every pulsation, every throb that went through his cock as if it were her own, and she loved the sensation.

Still more of his cock slid into her, burrowing ever deeper into her female heat. She felt the head of his dick come up against her cervix and sucked in might breaths of air.

Again and again the glans prodded her cervix.

"Oh, gawd yes, yes! Fuck me, damn it fuck me with that big cock, you Goddamn stud!" she gasped.

Koenig was even further inflamed at hearing such hard language from the lips of this woman who had always been so proper and cool that he'd wondered if she was even aware of the effect she had on men.

With a last grunt, he drove the final two inches of his dick into her cunt, feeling the stricture of her cuntal muscles, the length of her vagina, and the pulsing tightening of her cervical opening, all working their separate wonders on his prick.

He knew that no matter how much he wanted to hold off, it would only be a matter of seconds, perhaps minutes, before the boiling load of cum swirling in his balls overcame his self-control and blasted loose.

He pulled back, feeling the tightening of her cunt on his dick. When the knob of his prick finally caught in the compression of her cervix, he lunged forward onto her again. His balls swung up and hit her soft ass cheeks and Janet let go a long mewling sound of pleasure as her clitoris was pressed by the bony ring at the base of his cock.

His dick was so thick that her pussy lips folded in with each thrust. Her labia were pulled tight against her clitoris and the little button was tugged downward to rub against his shaft.

Her cunt lips were stretched tightly about his prick, the inner, sensitive nerve endings rubbing tightly against his cock as he speeded up his stroking. Each heave of Koenig's loins brought an answering surge from Janet. They battered their hips at one another almost as though they were fighting, crashing together as he slammed downward and she thrust upward to meet him.

Their fucking continued faster and faster until Janet felt the orgasmic frenzy rising in her. It started as a numbness around her clitoris and cunt lips, and gathered slowly outward from there. She clenched her inner muscles powerfully, as if she meant to lock Koenig's huge dick inside her forever, and arched up with an almost demonic strength that lifted Koenig's greater bulk atop her.

Koenig was unable to hold it any longer. With a grunt of passion, he let loose his self-control and great torrents of his semen blasted their way along the tube running the length of the underside of his huge prick. Bolt after bolt of thick cum shot out of his broad knob, splashing deep inside her. Janet could feel every swelling pulsation of his cock as it strained against the constriction of her cunt.

And she could feel every blast of his heavy, creamy goo splatter home inside her. His cum filled her and began to back, up along the shaft of his prick, crawling back up her tight-fitting vaginal sheath to spill out and drool from her cunt.

Janet could feel Koenig's balls, the flesh sac holding them pressed tightly against her smooth, soft ass cheeks, jerking and throbbing as he let loose the load he'd been carrying for over a month.

She thought he'd never stop coming. With each jolt of jism he sent spurting home inside her cunt, she reached a new, higher peak of release.

Finally, Koenig's spasms began to slow, then to become irregular. He lost the frantic, battering drive to send his masthead deeper into her and his cock began, slowly, to shrink inside her, shriveling, becoming limp. She gave a little moan and shivered, relaxing her muscles, and slipping back onto the bed.

She shuddered slightly, mewled in her throat, as she felt Koenig's shrinking cock slipping out of her cunt. The sensation made her tense slightly.

Finally, Koenig lay atop her, breathing slowly and regularly – asleep.

Disgusted with his thoughtlessness, Janet put her hands against his broad, muscular, hairy chest and pushed him as hard as she could. He rolled limply off her onto his back. Janet swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood, cum still dribbling from her matted pubic hair and wonderfully abused, aching cunt, down the insides of her thighs.

She looked down at Koenig's softly stirring form, and was overcome with a sudden uncertainty. What had she done? Knowingly, she had gone into that card game, half-sure that it would lead to such a situation. And she'd known, right from the start, that if the situation – and the man – arose, she would go through with it.

With one of her husband's best friends!

But then she became newly aware of the spunk drooling down her legs, and she remembered how it had felt when Koenig had poured his abundant load deep inside her cunt, the way it had felt when that huge cock, now so defenseless-looking, had been driven between her pussy lips.

Her hand went down over her pubis and her fingers touched her cunt. She felt her still swollen pussy lips, now covered with the overflow of Koenig's fuck slick and slimed with his cum and her own juices.

She felt the place where his dick had gone, and remembered the way it had stretched her, crammed her.

She pushed her misgivings angrily out of her mind. After all, she was more than half-sure that Tom was fucking that bitch of a secretary in his office, that Allison cunt. And besides, with all his messing off with gambling, throwing away the money they'd so carefully nursed into an adequate, comfortable income.

Janet grabbed her clothing, not caring if the meager garments were wrinkled or creased by her careless handling. The shorts and top didn't have to look good at all. Their sole purpose was to show off what she had to exhibit.

She shook Koenig. "Out, Sid, out. Party time is over. And keep your mouth shut – understand?"

He nodded, still partially asleep, and began hoisting himself out of the bed.

"You won't mind that I don't see you to the door," she said. "You know your way around here pretty damn well, at least, you do now."

She turned to the door and left him there, slowly dressing. Yes, I know the score and maybe I should score some more before I'm done.

But even as she thought that, she felt a pang of guilt creeping up on her. If it didn't get her before she slept, it would when she awoke. She knew herself. And she knew that when all was said and done, she did love her husband.

CHAPTER FIVE

The next morning brought rain and Tom sat at the kitchen table, a cup of cold coffee in front of him. Beside it was an ashtray. Full.

Janet stopped short in the doorway of the kitchen. She'd awakened filled with remorse and guilt – and worry. There was no sign that Tom had come home at all after he'd left the house in such furious haste the night before.

"We have to talk, Janet," he said, speaking td the cold coffee and cigarette butts.

She entered the kitchen, a vision of chestnut brown hair, warm flesh tones and blue nylon dressing robe. Beneath the robe she wore only panties. Her large breasts bobbled in reminder of the delights he'd too long neglected.

And she looked good, edible, flushed with her womanhood. Seeing her attitude, despite the regrets in her face and eyes, Tom couldn't help but know that what he'd feared had indeed transpired and that she looked the better for the wear.

She sat across the table from him, eyes sorrowful, nipples pointed at him.

He lit another cigarette. The silence stretched out.

"Tom," she finally said unsurely, and then the words tumbled out in a rush. "Tom, last night I…"

"No!" He silenced her. He shook his head. "No, don't say anything. It didn't happen." He took a deep breath.

"What…" He stopped, thought. "We've both made mistakes and I've been at the root of most of them."

"But I want you to know that…"

"And I think we'd better be a little bit more attentive to one another's wishes and needs. I'm willing to try." He said the last with an almost hopeful note, one that left the rest of the phrase hanging unsaid, unnecessary for words.

A single tear rolled down Janet's soft cheeks. She nodded and said, "All right," in a voice that caught on sadness in her lovely throat.

Janet dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and composed her features. Then she stood. "You better get dressed and cleaned up for work. I'll start the breakfast."

Tom stood and got ready for work and was nearly trampled by his daughter as she ran down the stairs. "Good morning, Daddy," she said with considerably more cheer than the morning deserved. Penny gave his stubbled chin and night-worn clothes a quick look of puzzlement, then shrugged and hurried on down into the kitchen.

He arrived at work early. In his mind, he had been devising the ways in which he would solve his problems – financial and marital – as he rode the train.

He was the first one in the office and the unaccustomed quiet of the floor only heightened the sense of unnatural clarity in his sleepless mind.

Allison stepped into his office at eight-fifteen, then froze when she discovered him already seated at his desk. Tom got up casually and then let his eyes sweep over her. For the first time since she'd come to work for him, she was dressed to kill. Black micro-skirt, high heels, hair long and flowing, and an almost transparent top which did nothing at all to conceal her ruby-tipped breasts moving tautly within.

He forced the thoughts from his mind. He had, after all, resolved to turn over a new leaf. And it had to start somewhere. It will start here, he declared to himself nobly.

"Well, good morning, Mr. Jamison," Allison said. She walked round behind the desk and stood beside him so that her nipples returned his stare.

"Good morning, Allison," he said. "Please get my coffee immediately." He kept her away from him throughout most of the morning.

At noon, the call came. "Mr. Jamison, I am a representative of a gentleman who lent you a considerable sum of money," announced the coolly businesslike voice. "He suggested that I call and remind you that the first installment is due back in his hands the day after tomorrow."

Tom thanked the man for the reminder and assured him that he saw no difficulty in meeting the payment schedule.

His hands shook as he lit his cigarette. They were almost eager to have him blow it.

Twenty minutes later, Gilson showed up.

"Howdy," said the big Texan. Tom had gone out into the reception area to meet the potential customer and found Gilson eyeing Allison with considerable interest.

Tom brought Gilson back into his office. "That's a sleek young filly out there," Gilson said when the door was closed. "Never expected you city fellas went in for breaking, but with fillies like that around, any man becomes a cowpuncher."

Tom went along with the crude joke, then asked, "When did you get back in town?"

Gilson grinned. "About an hour ago. Have a few things to clean up this afternoon, and I thought I'd stop by and see what you've got going." He hooked one thumb over his shoulder, indicating the door to the reception area – and Allison. "And I see you've got a good thing going."

Jamison shook his head. "Now, let's not get carried away. Allison is a fine-looking young woman, all right, but if you'd met my wife…" He grinned right back at Gilson. And then, inspiration struck. "Tell me something. How long has it been since you had a home-cooked meal?"

Gilson thought for a moment. "Hell of a long time," he said finally.

"Well, then, if you don't have any plans yet for this evening, why don't you come out to my place and have dinner with my wife and I."

"You know something, buddy, that sounds like a right fine idea, right fine indeed." But then Gilson's face grew uncertain. "On the other hand, since you don't have any riding sessions with that young filly, I was sort of considering asking her to make a night on the town with me."

Tom smiled. "I think," he said, hitting the intercom button, "that Allison would probably be able to make it out to my place herself."

Allison was not enthusiastic about the prospect of visiting the Jamison household – and Janet – but Tom couched the invitation in language that made the message clear – if you ever want to get beyond that office out there, you'd better accept the invitation.

She accepted.

It was agreed that Tom would bring them up to his place that afternoon at five, and Gilson made a point, before leaving, of mentioning that it looked like the Gilson chain was just about ripe to make the jump into tires.

For the rest of the day, Allison was rather curt and distant from Tom Jamison. But that was okay with him because, at half-past one, he'd spoken to his wife on the phone. And when Janet Jamison got over her initial disgruntlement at the sudden imposition, she realized that Tom was breaking off whatever relationship he had once enjoyed with his secretary.

At four-thirty, Tom left the office and went over to a car rental office to get their transportation for the evening. Then he picked up Gilson at his hotel and went back to the office to pick up Allison.

The three of them sat scrunched together in the front seat of the Mercury, with Allison in the middle. Gilson had draped one arm over her shoulders and his hand was moving in a continuous rubbing over her upper arm.

Tom finally wheeled the big car into the driveway and beeped the horn twice, lightly. The three of them piled out of the car, welcoming the chance to stretch their legs after the torturous battle with afternoon rush hour traffic out of New York.

Janet still hadn't made her appearance, so Tom led his guests into the house. "Honey!" he called. "We're here."

"I'll be down in ten minutes," her voice answered from the second floor.

Tom showed the two around the house. Gilson had his arm about Allison's waist, and from time to time, one paw slipped down to her lithe ass cheeks, to lightly caress and shape them though her micro-skirt. Each time he did it, Allison gave Gilson a definitely come-hither smile and Tom could nearly picture the stallion pawing at the earth in front of the willing mare.

They were on the patio in back, where Gilson was noting, with approval, the prime cut steaks Janet had laid out under lucite covers beside the barbecue, when Tom's wife finally made her appearance.

She was dressed to kill.

She wore a matched two-piece outfit. The halter top was cut deeply and if the plunge went any deeper, it would have been two pieces of cloth. Her marvelous tits, swelling and firm and ripe and beautifully curved, thrust out beneath the tightly stretched fabric. Her hair, loose and flowing, cascaded down over her all but bare shoulders, concealing the two thin straps.

Her flawlessly tanned midriff was flat and well exposed between the flimsy halter top and the low-cut, hip hugging, hot short bottoms. The shorts looked as though they were painted on. They revealed every detail of her lower torso right down to the aggressive thrust of her pubic and the soft spread of her pussy lips.

Her long, smooth, shapely legs moved gracefully. The only thing needed to complete the picture was the fact that she was barefoot, and somehow looked the more earthy for it.

"Hello," his wife said, voice throaty and demure at the same time, luscious, full lips parting in a soft smile, dark eyes moving from one, to the other of the trio standing before her.

Allison was a skinny little girl by comparison. Tom just gaped and asked himself when he'd lost his mind that he'd neglected his wife for so long.

Gilson looked as if he were going to jump on her at any moment.

"Why, you must be Tom's receptionist," Janet said sweetly, approaching Allison.

Allison took the slight in stride. "Yes," she said sighing and turning longing eyes on Tom. "I'm the woman he spends all that time with each day. It's so nice to meet you. All of you."

"The pleasure is mine," Janet said smoothly. "Tom talks about you constantly and I've been dying to get you out here to the country so we could put a little meat on your bones." Janet sucked in a deep breath and her breasts heaved outward, testing the restraining power of the halter.

Gilson's eyes looked about ready to pop.

"This is Mr. Gilson," Tom said quickly, before Allison could reply.

Janet approached the big man and smiled up at him. "A treat to have you here, Mr. Gilson."

"Ed, please."

"And you'll call me Janet."

"I'll call you beautiful."

Janet dimpled. Tom was madder than hell. Allison's claws looked ready. Tom could just about see her ears being laid back in a feline snarl.

Tom made his wife a drink while Gilson immediately engrossed her conversationally. Allison sidled over. "I'm surprised you have anything left in the morning," she said quietly. "After a night with her."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning she moves fast," Allison said, nodding towards Gilson and Janet. The two were seated on the sectional sofa, leaning towards each other with their heads close together. Tom could see that Gilson was enjoying the view down the front of his wife's top and as he watched, the two erupted in lewd laughter.

Tom found Allison's eyes bemused when he turned back to her. He forced himself to calmness and shrugged as if his wife's friendliness towards Gilson was unimportant.

Drinks made, he rejoined them and was every bit as charming and smooth as he could ever hope to be, completely masking his inner unease.

Gilson sat next to Janet at the patio table, and Tom suspected, from the movements of Gilson's upper arm, that the tall Texan was feeling up his wife's leg. The suspicion was only reinforced by the shared secret smiles she flashed at Gilson from time to time.

As they ate dinner Tom felt the touch of soft fingers on his own thigh. Allison's.

Calmly, he glanced towards her. Without turning, Allison let a faint smile cross her face, tilting the corner of her mouth upward.

Tom did nothing to stop her roaming hand.

As they rested back, tasting their ice cream with creme de menthe, the conversation began to swing back towards business. And as the dessert disappeared and then Janet began serving drinks, Gilson's eyes followed Tom's wife at exactly the same time as he let his misgivings about the deal Tom had proposed slip into his words.

Tom was getting the message.

It was nearly eight-thirty when they finally moved indoors. Gallantly, Gilson offered Janet his arm. His anger increasing at Janet's welcoming of Gilson's attentions and touches, Tom spitefully offered his arm to Allison.

Nevertheless, he barely resisted the urge to turn and see what Gilson was doing to his wife as they led the way into the house.

Tom mixed some more drinks for the group, hearing the first dribble of rain on the roof. By the time he was putting the second round together; the dribble had become a downpour and a thunderstorm's rumblings had begun.

Janet came into the kitchen as he opened the freezer door and took out some crushed ice. "Tom," she said urgently, hand familiarly on his arm. "Tom, there's a problem."

"Oh?" He closed the freezer door with a negligent elbow.

"Gilson, he keeps feeling me up."

Tom hesitated and gave her a hard look. "I haven't seen you objecting to it." He turned back to the drinks.

"Tom, he wants to-to…"

"To fuck you?" She nodded rapidly. Tom shrugged.

"Tom!"

"What?" he shot back irritably.

"Tom, what am I going to do?"

He gave her a bitter, cynical smile. "What do you want to do?"

She frowned. "Tom, I've put up with him and gone along this far because I know how important this account is to you. But now he seems to be hinting that if I don't let him… you know…"

"Fuck you."

"Yes," she said, wincing. "If I don't let him, he's going to forget about the account."

Tom picked up the tray full of drinks and started for the kitchen door. "Janet," he said tiredly, "you do whatever you want to do."

She followed him into the living room a minute later, her face cheerful, but her eyes filled with the same determination Tom had seen there the night of the card game with Koenig.

"Hospitable of you, Tom, mighty hospitable. I sure do appreciate it," Gilson was saying.

"Then it's settled," Tom announced. "Allison and you will stay the night here."

"Where will we put them?" Janet asked sweetly. Tom gave her a knowing look. "Gilson in the guest room, me on the convertible in the living room, here, and you and Allison in our bedroom."

They made small talk for a while. At ten-thirty, Penny returned from her night at the movies. Tom introduced his daughter to their two guests. He couldn't help but note how Gilson's eyes glinted as they followed the movements of his daughter's delightful little ass within her too-tight jeans and the way Gilson's gaze kept flickering to Penny's perfectly formed, firm young breasts. They were clearly exhibited beneath her rain-soaked T-shirt, and the nipples were stiffened from the dampness. Tom found his own eyes following his daughter's nubile form as well. She was growing up to be an enchanting young woman.

At eleven, they began breaking up the group for bed. Allison went with Janet to be fitted for night-clothes while Tom showed Gilson to the guest bedroom and prepared the bed linen. Then he went back out and made up the convertible.

Surprisingly, sleep came quickly.

CHAPTER SIX

Tom awoke calmly at the touch of a hand on his shoulder and then tensed.

It was Allison.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he demanded in a harsh whisper.

"Nothing," she cooed. "Why?"

"What if Janet finds us?"

Allison's teeth gleamed in the dimness as she smiled. "She won't," she said, certainty in her voice. Without invitation, she pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed beside Tom. For the first time he became aware that the front of her nightgown was completely undone. He suppressed a groan of desire as he felt Allison press against him.

"Ummmm… what's this?" she whispered innocently. Her fingers had slid down inside his pajama bottoms and found his swelling cock.

She shifted in the bed, without warning, and began pulling the pajamas down.

"What the hell…"

"Shhh. You'll wake your daughter."

"What if I wake my wife?"

Allison giggled. "Oh, she's awake all right. So is your big shot account."

Tom swallowed. "Oh."

The pajama bottoms were gone and a moment later, so was Allison's nightgown. She pressed the length of her aroused, naked body against his, her fingers tight about his rigid dick.

"Wasn't Gilson worried that I might find out?" he muttered, thinking aloud more than speaking to anyone.

"Oh sure, he was worried all right," Allison said. "He asked me to, er, occupy you."

Tom stiffened. "And you agreed?" he asked in a quietly strangled voice.

Allison's hand began moving slowly up and down the length of Tom's raging erection, summoning shallow breaths from him. "Uh-huh," she grunted, in time to her hand's movements. "Why not?"

"You dirty little bitch," he snapped. Tom reached down and grabbed her about the waist. By brute force, he turned and shifted her in the bed so that she was on her knees and hands facing away from him. "You want to encourage fucking around, is that it?" he snarled, getting to his knees behind her. He ran one hand over the taut, smooth globes of Allison's ass. Tom grabbed her hips in both hands then and looked down at the pale, creamy swells of her lithe buttocks, seeing, for a moment, an unbidden vision of his daughter's ass presented to him in just the same way.

Then anger filled him again. "All right, bitch," he rumbled. "You cunt, I'll teach you something about fucking!"

He lined up his cock with the light little entrance of Allison's twat, leading the swollen head of his cock to the wet folds of her pussy lips and then, with a single heave, buried his prick inside her palpitating warmth.

"Oooooohh!" Allison made the sound in a little gasping exclamation as she felt Tom's big dick drive all the way up inside her tight channel. The angle made his cock reach farther inside her than ever before and she felt the head batter stiffly against her cervix. It hurt her, to be sure, but the pain was eagerly welcomed.

"Oh, jeez, yes, Tom, yes, that's good! Do it again!"

Angered still farther, Tom Jamison withdrew his cock completely and then lurched forward, this time sending part of his knob into the stricture of her cervix.

Allison shook all over with the mixed pleasure and ecstatic pain that the vicious insertion of Tom's cock had caused her. Her arms shook weakly, and her upper body foil flat onto the bed. Her ass was hiked temptingly high into the air, and Tom could dimly make out the darker spot of her anus.

"You want to feel it, eh, slut?" he demanded angrily.

"Oh yes, Tom, fuck me, fuck me good and hard – uh!"

He withdrew his prick completely again, but this time, he nudged the thick glans against that dime-sized opening to her hot rear passage. Tom could feel her tense and stiffen in fear.

"N-no, Tom, no, not back there! You're too big far me!" she gasped. "Please don't, I…"

He pushed. The knob of his prick drove forward a half-inch, spreading her tight entry brutally.

"Oh, n-no no, no, please, no, I can't take it back…"

"Bullshit." He pushed forward again – and this time, the entire head of his big penis went inside her ass.

Allison sobbed, her body shaking all over. It felt as if her ass were being torn apart, split open. The pain was terrible but deep within the spasms of agony, she felt pleasure in the knowledge that the center of his masculinity, the enormous cock that was the symbol of his manhood, was being pressed completely into her most constructed passage, that it was becoming as much a part of her being as it was of him.

She shivered and then yelped softly as he pushed forward again. The huge machine of his cock was driving deeper into her, the bulbous head of his dick wedging farther into her tight anal passage.

"Oh gawd it's too much too much," she groaned. She was sure that if he put it all the way into her, he'd tear up her insides, yet somehow, the fear and pain all mixed together and gave her a perverse kind of pleasure. Her legs weakened and her knees shook.

Tom wasn't home yet. With his hands on bet slim hips, he helped support her as he continued burrowing deeper and still deeper into her hot ass.

He'd never felt anything like the pleasure he was getting from the spasming contractions of Allison's surely virginal ass. The length of her rear passage seemed to be tightened along his cock as it drove deeper into her, pushing apart the clinging, sheath-like walls.

With a final heave, he buried the last of his dick inside her. Allison screamed into the blankets, the muffled sound sending a chill of strange pleasure through Tom. He put his thumbs on her tightly clenched ass cheeks and pulled them apart, leaning back so that he could look down between their bodies and see the rude, thick stump of his big cock disappearing into her stretched anus. Her asshole was taut, spread incredibly to accept the thickness of his dick and even as he watched, he could see and feel the contractive jerks of her indignant ass muscles at the invasion.

But at the same time, he saw something else, too. Her hips were beginning to move, to rotate and jerk slightly, almost hesitantly.

She digs ass-fucking! he thought excitedly.

Slowly, he withdrew his cock until all but the swollen glans was pulled away from the cloying stricture of Allison's haughty ass. He could feel her asshole tightening around the depressed ring of his flange on the shaft of his cock and he slammed forward again.

Allison grunted as the head of his long, thick cock slammed into her.

She moaned and made another sound deep in her throat, a sound of pure animal passion that escaped her mouth and lips. He pulled his cock out again and she thrust herself backwards, riding his cock as it slid into the depths of her bowels. His balls swung up and brushed against her cunt and clitoris.

She began moving more rapidly, usurping the initiative in her blind passion. Faster and faster, she rocked her hips back all the way fill her ass cheeks were pressed flat against Tom's abdomen and she could feel the head of his cock throb far, far inside her and then slid forward till just the coronal ridge of his dick was caught in her ass.

Tom felt the semen boiling over from his over-full balls and then grabbed her hips with almost painful strength, rammed the length of his prick tome inside her and held it there, his cock jerking and spitting a stream of thick, viscous cum that flooded Allison's ass to overflowing.

Allison's hand went back between her legs. Her palms ground against her clitoris and cunt lips while her fingers lifted and caressed Tom's big balls as they jerked within the tight fleshy sack of his scrotum.

She came, too, jerking and moaning and humping and gasping at the stimulus of her own hand, Tom's cock swelling and pulsing within her and his heavy, abundant cum, overflowing her tight ass and dripping down along the backs of her thighs and matting her pubic hair.

As his spasms slowed and finally stopped, as his cock shriveled within her, Tom found himself fantasizing that it was someone else receiving his cock and balls jism in her ass.

Even as they slumped forward together, he wondered what Janet's fuck with Gilson was like.

She closed the door of the guest bedroom behind her, silently, then leaned back against it. Her breasts, rich and full, rose and fell beautifully within the light, gauzy material of her nightgown. The room was dark, and she could not see the bed or the man in it.

The guest room – again, she thought, but then banished the last twinges of guilt. Tom doesn't give a good damn – why should I?

"What are you waiting for, honey?"

The voice, soft and muted as it was, doubly soothed with the Texan drawl, startled Janet nonetheless.

"I'm awake honey and I can see you as plain as day."

She smothered the impulse to cover herself with hands and arms. She hadn't stopped to think that beneath the pale, thin cotton of her nightgown, her body would be completely visible.

The dark nubs of her nipples, the dark triangle of luxuriant pubic hair – she was a display of dim curves and dark highlights, leaning against the door.

Almost defiantly, she let her hands fall to her sides and stood up straight, shoulders squared and breasts thrusting outward into the room, towards Gilson, straining the fabric of her nightgown.

"Come here, honey," he said.

Why not? she asked herself.

She strode slowly towards the bed, hips swinging, gown tightening and flowing over her like a liquid with each step.

At the side of the bed, she stopped. Her eyes had adjusted to the dim glow filtering through the curtains from the bright moonlight filling the post-storm sky. She looked down on Gilson from her place at the side of the bed, and found him looking back up at her.

His eyes went immediately to the great twin mountains of her luscious breasts. They seemed even larger than life from the strange perspective. He reached out one arm, wrapping it around the back of her thighs, and pulled her to the bed. Her legs bent as her knees hit the edge of the mattress, and she let herself fall onto him.

That was the closest the encounter came to being gentle.

Gilson brought both hands up to the neckline of the gown, gripping the flimsy fabric in strong fingers. He began to pull it down over her shoulder, but her plunging neckline wasn't designed for that.

Janet felt the strain on the fabric. "Wait, wait," she said quickly. "I'll get up and take it…"

But Gilson was not in the mood to lay still for any delays.

"Naw, I'll fix it, honey," he said and tore it open along the length of her back, all the way to the sweet thrust of her firm, full ass cheeks.

She tensed as she felt the fabric ripping and he took it as a sign of her arousal. He gathered the fabric up into his fingers and ripped again. This time the gown was completely ripped open and fell away from her, leaving her back nude and exposed to his lecherous touch.

Gilson ran his hands over her back, lower, into the curve of her back, then let his hands come to rest on her ass. He gripped her flesh almost cruelly, digging her fingers mercilessly into her flesh.

Janet became aware of something long and hard between their bodies, something beneath the covers and then realized that it was Gilson's penis. Lord, no! she thought, no!

But even as she thought it, Gilson was putting his hands on her trim waist and lifting her bodily. He rolled in a peculiar way, and then both the tattered remains of her nightgown and the bedcovers were gone, leaving absolutely nothing between Janet's naked abundance and Gilson's unclothed lusts.

She felt his cock spring up and nuzzle between her upper thighs and she knew that Gilson was bigger than her husband, even bigger than Koenig.

He lowered her back, her legs spreading over his hips so that she was straddling him, with the thick root of his cock throbbing insistently between her legs, the broad back of it pulsating against her cunt.

With a shock, she realized that her cunt was sopping wet, that her pussy lips were eagerly responding to the wanton prodding of his swollen dick.

Gilson suddenly lifted her up higher over him, so his prick head was throbbing against her cunt-mound, time and again grazing her clitoris and sending tiny shivers of pleasure through her frame. Her breasts hung down into Gilson's face, and as she shuddered in ecstasy at the touch of his glans on her love nubbin, her tits wobbled fluidly against his cheeks.

He lowered her, opening his mouth and greedily sucking in as much of one ripe, huge, globular boob as his lips could contain. His tongue worked at her already stiffening nipple, tickling and teasing it into spike-like rigidity. Then he closed his lips, forcing all but the brownish nipple out of his mouth till he had the big, blood-gorged walnut sized tip caught between his teeth.

He sucked on her nipple and at the same time nibbled it roughly for pure pleasure. The conflicting sensations washed through her, and her hips moved in alternate jerks of pleasure and mild pain.

Her back tensed and she stiffened as he slid his slobbering lips to the other breast and did the same there.

Abruptly, he lifted her and threw her over on to her back, then rolled on top of her, crushing her big breasts beneath his powerful, broad chest. "Now, then, honey," he drawled, moving his hips so that she could feel the abnormal length of his cock rubbing against her stomach.

"Wh-what?" she asked. Things were moving too quickly for her. She felt as if she had no say in what was happening to her in the hands of the big, strange man from Texas.

"Now, there, honey," he drawled, only the hint of the wild passions rushing through him entering his voice. "Just what do you think? I've already given those gorgeous tits of yours the attention they deserve, so now what does that leave?"

He shifted his hips, pulling them far back so that his cock slipped between her thighs, the thick glans nuzzling against her cunt lips. "Well, you're plenty wet and from the way you've been moving and breathing, I'd say you're ready and then some."

His hands slid along her back until his fingers were buried in the rich, velvety softness of her ass. The weight of his upper body was pressing down on her breasts and her chest and she was struggling for breath.

But then he was pushing his hips forward and pulling her ass and hips up to him at the same time. Of their own volition, her legs spread more widely apart, welcoming his huge cock.

At first, the drive of his dick only pushed her outer labia inward, drawing the upper folds down to rub and pull at her clitoral shaft. This sent a pleasure through her, a constant ecstasy and she rocked her hips mindlessly upward in automatic response to the sensation.

But as Gilson kept up the pressure, as his dick continued to drive inward, the soft, sensitive folds of flesh were pulled deeper inside her, crushed within her and they began to hurt. Janet tried to wriggle away and relieve the strain, to pull herself off the impaling rod of Gilson's cock and force him to begin inserting that thick member between her opened lips again.

Instead, Gilson lunged suddenly.

"Ahhhhh!" The sound of pain was wrenched from her lips.

It only made Gilson the hotter.

Desperately, Janet reached her hand down between them, trying to free the tortured pussy lips from the brutal punishment they were taking.

Her fingers found the shaft of his prick and she sucked in a sharp breath. Gawd, it's just too thick! she thought.

She could feel the massive head of his dick driving between the tightly clinging walls of her vagina.

Somehow, despite Gilson's refusal to do anything that might help her, she managed to free her abused cunt lips and worked the sensitive flesh out from between the piston rod of Gilson's dick and the inner reaches of her own cuntal entrance and spread them to either side of that iron hard bar of flesh being worked into her.

As soon as the pain began fading, she became more aware of the sensations that Gilson's prick was sending through her. It was terrific, far more than she'd ever hoped to get her twat wrapped around again.

She could feel the throbbing mass of his dick head pushing farther into her, reaching for the very end of her vaginal channel and beyond. Her hand lingered between their perspiration waked bodies, and her thumb and forefinger traced the progress of that pipe-like erection as it continued to slide slowly into her waiting wetness.

The knob of Gilson's penis came up against the pinhole entrance of her cervix and still there was more of his stallion cock to come. She could feel inches of it still remaining outside of her grasping cunt, and though she feared the consequences to her insides if he should force the remainder of it into her, she knew how badly her body craved the sensations that would surely be hers once the entire length of the huge dick was buried inside of her.

Janet groaned and hiked her legs high around Gilson's waist. Her ankles crossed, locked above his back, and she rocked her hips up at him. Each heave of her pelvis forced the head of his prick into her cervix, and each prodding of his thick knob against her inner barrier summoned a new stab of pain to her.

But she had to have it!

Her nails dug into the flesh of Gilson's shoulders, her feet kicked free and battered at his wide, powerful ass cheeks, hammering at him, making it clear that what she wanted was cock, as much of it as he could give her – and immediately!

Gilson tightened his grip on her soft ass flesh and simultaneously heaved. The head of his fantastic cock pushed mightily, prodded, demanded entrance, and Janet was gasping for breath at the pain the battering ram was creating.

Her cervical opening was spreading apart wide enough for the tip of his glans, secretion-slimed and lubricated by the passage through her cunt, to slip inside.

She felt the new invasion and kicked her legs wide apart and welcoming high into the air over Gilson's back. Forgotten was his terrible weight on her breasts and chest, forgotten was the pain of his fiat, thoughtlessly rough insertion, forgotten was the fear of what might happen if he should bury the entire length of his virile mast in her. All was forgotten, except the sensations of the moment, the pleasures that were coming to her with the total ingression of his tremendous bar of hard, blood-gorged meat.

She could feel the head of his dick going through the opening of her cervix quite clearly, feeling it and enjoying it. Deeper and deeper his dick probed, her fingers all the while about the broad-based shaft.

She felt his thick, bristly pubic hair against her fingers and then took her hand away as she felt his abdomen pressing down on her fingers.

At last, his gigantic balls swung up and brushed against her eagerly offered buttocks as he pushed the last fraction of an inch of his great fleshy sword into her waiting, willing warmth.

Janet groaned as she felt the entire length of his prick throbbing inside her. She could feel the head of his cock swelling and pulsating, the shaft forcing apart the walls of her cunt, the head's throbs pulsating clearly through her cervical opening.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes, that's it, give that cock!" she pleaded. "Let me feel you sweet hot cum in my cunt."

She could hardly believe the incredible filth pouring from her lips, but she was expressing the most basic and urgent of her emotional and physical needs. She yearned for the feel of his torrential ejaculation so far inside her, craved the sensations of the liquid maleness pouring into her deepest reaches.

Gilson heard her.

He brought his hand up along her body, then lifted, at last, the crushing weight of his chest from her breasts. He looked down at her with an arrogant grin on his face.

"Any way you want it, honey, I'll just pile it into that sweet, little old cunt of yours."

With that, he began stroking in and out of her, pulling his cock back till the coronal ridge of the helmet-shaped knob caught on the inside of her cervix. His dick seemed to stretch out within her and then the glans popped free and Gilson's dick regained its terrible thickness. He continued withdrawing it until all but that huge, crimson glans was removed from her clinging cunt and then jammed it back in.

With a single, powerful heave of his hips, he rammed the entire length of his cock back into her cunt.

Janet gasped as she felt his prick rush back into her, tilling the void left with its withdrawal. She gasped as if his lunge had knocked the breath from her. Her eyes closed as she felt his shaft rubbing at her sensitive clitoris preliminary to the impact of his bony pubic ring on that sensitive love nub.

Janet writhed and gasped, wriggling beneath Gilson's strokes like a slippery eel. She could fed the tension in his hips and back, but most of all, in his cock, as it swelled and stiffened still more within her pussy grip.

His thrusts became irregular and then he held himself tightly against her, his hard pubic ring grinding against her sensitive clitoris, his cock swelling into her cunt as the first torrents of his juice began to shoot inside her.

Janet felt each load, each drop striking home inside her with the force of a cannon shot. Her entire body stiffened and she brought her legs down to each side of Gilson's sweating, straining form. Her heels dug into the bed, her back arched and she bowed up, lifting Gilson with her. She was like a human bridge, supporting the far greater mass of her fucker with the demonic strength of her coming. Gilson's dick, still locked within her excruciating, spasming tightness, continued to spit and jerk.

Gobs of jism splashed home into the depths of Janet's womb, filling it and overflowing it, finally oozing out in a white froth about the mightily stretched lips of her cunt. The sticky semen rolled down over her ass cheeks, rivulets gliding in the furrow of her firm, full, now clenched ass cheeks to soak and stain the bed.

Gilson's spasms slowed, became more irregular, and finally stopped, just as the strength seemed to leave Janet's abundantly curved form. She sank back onto the bed, limp and exhausted, with Gilson sprawled semi-conscious atop her, the cream still dribbling from his deflating cock into her constricting cunt.

Somehow, after moments of dozing, she summoned the strength to free herself from Gilson's weight and padded uncertainly back to the bedroom she shared with her husband less and less with each passing day. Between her legs, a thick, sticky flow of cum dribbled, matting still farther her thick pubic bush and coating the insides of her thighs. There was a pleasant ache in her cunt from the ecstatic abuse it had suffered, and even as she collapsed into her lonely bed and heard the footsteps of her roommate for the night, Allison, climbing up the stairs, she knew that she had passed the point of no return and that she could never again face the temptation of fucking other men with the same resolve she had faced just a few days before.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Allison was incredibly quiet and demurring the next morning at work. She dressed in a simple frock and when Tom spoke to her, she dropped her eyes and murmured deferential replies.

Tom noticed that she was walking with a bit of difficulty and seemed to have trouble making herself comfortable when she sat.

Tom, Allison and Gilson hadn't exchanged more than a half-dozen words from the moment they'd wakened to the time they were let off at their respective destinations after the long rush hour drive into the city. When Tom got back to his office, Allison had the coffee and rolls waiting for him at his desk.

Just before noon, Gilson called and announced that he would consider Tom's proposal when he got back to Texas.

All for nothing! Tom fumed inwardly. Gilson had fucked Janet to his heart's content – and obviously, Tom added with mental disgust, her heart's content, too – had accepted his hospitality, gone through the entire visit letting Tom think he was ready to spring for the deal. And then he'd said in effect, that he was going to start all over again from scratch.

Then Tom realized that he was going to have a payment to make to a certain gentleman who'd lent him money and the payment was going to be due soon.

"Where's Penny?" he asked.

It was the first time he and Janet had spoken since the night before. She picked up her paper napkin, patted her lips and looked across at her husband.

"She's at a girl friend's house," Janet said, and then resumed her meal. They did not speak again during their meal.

After dinner, Tom was in the garage checking his tools. He was considering killing some time by putting together a little telephone stand for his daughter's new phone.

Janet stepped into the garage. "Tom," she said quietly.

He turned. She was wearing shorts again, these not as tight as those she'd worn the night before. Her top was a simple T-shirt. She was wearing a bra, the seamless, non-supporting type, and Tom could clearly make out the lines of it through the cotton shirt. He was immediately aroused.

"What?"

"There's a man here to see you," she said.

"What?"

"That's all he said." She turned and disappeared from his sight, leaving only the memory of the sudden tautening of shorts across her backside.

Tom wiped his hands on a rag and went into the house. The man waited in the living room, standing near the fireplace. He was admiring the pictures of Tom's family on the mantle.

"What can I do for you?"

The man shrugged. He was of average height and weight, and the bulge beneath his left armpit was almost totally concealed by the expert tailoring of the jacket. He was of indeterminate age. He might have been a salesman, at first glance.

Tom knew better.

"I'm here to remind you that a payment will be due, soon."

Tom nodded grimly. "Yes, I know," he said, making his voice calm.

"Fine. We like to remind the customers a little ahead." The man paused. "You're sure you wouldn't have any difficulty meeting the installments?"

"I'm sure," Tom lied. "Why don't you have a cup of coffee or a drink."

The man shook his head. "No, going to making a little visit oh a past-due account."

"Anything else I can do for you?"

Again the man shook his head. He started for the door and then stopped. "Yeah, there is," the guy said. "Your wife got any sisters?"

Tom smiled slowly. "No, I'm afraid not."

Suddenly, the man's face changed, his expression shifted subtly. "Well, I'll tell you what. You ever have any trouble with an installment, or you get in the hole, you give me a call." He handed Tom a card. There was a phone number on it. Nothing else. "And I guarantee we can work something out – you, me… and your wife. If you know what I, er, mean?"

Tom said nothing for a long moment. "I follow. I'll keep that in mind."

"Yeah, well, don't wait until your installment is past due. Get to me before it's due. Be seeing you."

Later, Janet asked about the man. Tom told her almost everything and then, as a last stroke, told her the man's suggestion.

She recoiled in horror.

"You wouldn't dare even think of it!" she yipped. Her outrage was obvious.

"Don't pull that shit on me, Janet. Not after the way you've been fucking everything with a cock that comes through the door."

"All right, Goddammit!" she snapped. "So I did a trick with Sid Koenig. But I only took on Gilson because it was such an important account. If I hadn't let him stick his dick in me, then we'd have a good reason to worry about this bastard that came around tonight and his shitty little propositions!"

"Well, I've got news for you, my hot little cunt," Tom sneered, "Gilson didn't take the deal."

"He stalled and I've got a feeling he'd going to dump it. So don't give me that shit about doing it just so we could get the account. You sure as hell fucked him, but that didn't get us the account!"

"But that son of a bitch." Her indignation was obvious, too.

"So I got news for you. You better think about what that guy said tonight. We may have to do it!"

"You mean you may need me to do it to bail your ass out of the debts you ran up gambling."

Tom crossed the room to his wife. "Well, my dear, keep in mind that they consider my family as collateral. That means you and Penny, too. So think on that, honey."

He left her and went up to the bedroom.

She fumed.

At noon the next day, Tom called the bank officer with whom he usually transacted his business and asked what the chances were of getting more credit.

The bank officer was frank – brutally frank. At one-thirty, the afternoon mail brought Gilson's decision on the account. No. The postmark was not from Texas. It was the substation at the airport in New York. Gilson had made up his mind even before he'd left.

He wasn't going to make the installment on time.

Tom had been counting on a positive decision on the Gilson account enabling him to reopen his credit applications file at the bank with an eye towards increasing his credit limit.

He pulled the card from his jacket pocket, with the telephone number on it. Tom placed the small white tag stock in the center of his desk and stared at it for a long time.

Finally, he put the card back in his pocket. When he got home, he took it out again, and handed it to his wife.

"What's this?"

He explained.

She hit the ceiling. She almost took a swing at Tom.

But in the end, she agreed.

Penny would be sent to stay with Janet's brother, Al, in New Jersey. Al hated Tom's guts with a passion, but he would never refuse Janet and he'd always seemed to take a special liking to Penny. Besides, Al had two kids of his own, one of them a girl Penny's age.

Then Tom called the number on the card. He used the phone in the guest room, the door closed. Fifteen minutes later, he returned to the kitchen.

"Well?" Janet demanded, her voice upset, yet somehow dull.

"It's set. Tomorrow night."

"Where?"

"Here," Tom said, "like you asked."

She hadn't wanted any part of the deal if it meant going into a stranger's house.

"Okay," she said, "I just wanted to be sun."

"They weren't happy about that, though."

"What does that mean?"

Tom hesitated. "Well, they wanted a concession from us."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What was the concession? Did you agree to it?" He nodded.

"What was it, Goddammit?"

"There'll be three of them."

Janet was stunned. Three men, three strangers, all of them hoods?

"My God!" she whispered, and sat back.

It was hours later, while she lay awake in the big bed beside her sleeping husband, that Janet realized something exciting and frightening about herself.

The thought of being forced to take on three men, all of them hoods, was terrifying.

And exciting.

"That sure was a surprise, Mom," Penny said.

She sat at the kitchen table. Her mother was making scrambled eggs and had her back to Penny.

"Why, Penny," her mother said, turning to face her. "I thought you liked to go to your Uncle Al's. You're always asking when we'll visit his house."

"Sure, Mom, but it's awfully sudden, isn't it?"

"Well, if you don't want to go, you just say so." Her mother's tone was all solicitation and mildness, as if she'd thought she was doing her daughter a great favor.

"No, really, I'd love to go, Mom," Penny said quickly. "When will I leave?"

"I thought you might catch the ten-thirty bus. Your cousin Mike will meet you at the terminal in Ridgewood."

Penny looked up at the clock in the stove top. "It's almost nine, now," she said. "I'd better get packing."

"Good girl."

At ten-thirty, Penny was waving good-bye to her mother through the window of the big, air-conditioned bus. As soon as they turned onto the expressway, she found her thoughts going to her cousin, Jennifer and Mike. She and Jennifer had always gotten along rather well. She'd always wished she could get along better with Mike.

Mike was big and tall and handsome and cute and muscular and so sexy. But, Mike was also seventeen, and he'd never pay any attention to a little cousin like her.

Still, she thought, you never can tell. She leaned back and opened the book she had brought. The cover said that it was about fashion. Inside was Candy.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Tom arrived home from work early. "Did Penny go?"

Janet nodded slowly. "On the bus just like we planned. She'll be back around noon tomorrow."

"Good," he said, for lack of anything else to say. He glanced at his watch. That reminded her.

"What time will they be here?"

"Okay," she said, and for the first time, Tom noticed his wife's speech was slightly slurred. But he could detect no odor of booze.

"Is that what you're going to wear?"

"Huh?"

"Is that what you're going to wear for them?" She looked down at herself as though she'd forgotten what she was wearing: a simple blue top and a pair of beige shorts. Then she shrugged. Her breasts moved within the top, unfettered, heavy and ripe and firm and tempting. Tom felt a sudden pang of desire for his wife and immediately began rationalizing that it was as much due to the fact that she was about to have sex with three complete strangers as much as anything else.

"Will you be here?" she asked. The question had occurred to her a number of times since the previous day, but only after six slugs of booze did she have the courage to ask.

He shook his head. "I'll be, uh, out for a walk."

"With that little cunt of a secretary of yours, I'll bet."

He flushed. He had thought of it, but had dismissed the idea.

What he was actually planning to do was circle back and watch. Tom knew, with a sudden shock, that he had truly reached a type of depravity. For some reason it was arousing to think of watching his wife perform with three other men.

He went up the stairs to change, and instead found himself lingering there, piddling about, killing time. It was a quarter to seven when he came down the stairs.

"I'm going now, honey," he said, and gave her a warmly appreciative peck on the cheek. He could smell the booze on her breath now: Scotch.

He ambled out through the front door and began strolling off to the west.

At five to seven, a car pulled into the driveway. Three doors slammed and then the doorbell rang.

"Mrs. Jamison?"

The short, wiry, dapper-looking man was the same who had called on them with the proposition the other night.

"Just call me Janet," she mumbled.

He smiled. "I'm Don. May we come in?"

She giggled inanely. "That's why you're here, right?" She threw the door wide open and made a sweeping gesture of welcome, bending as low as she did so. The blouse strained across her glorious tits and the three men trooped in. Don introduced them.

Jeff, tall, heavy set, with a big scar down one cheek. Pinky, also heavy set, but short and built like a barrel.

"Well, gentlemen," Janet said as they stood in the center of the living room, "shall we have a drink or shall we get right down to business?"

Jeff, the big one, licked his wide, thick lips and grinned. He hadn't taken his eyes off her since they'd entered.

Don got the message. "Okay. Show the way, Janet."

She smiled sweetly and led the first man off down the hallway towards the guest bedroom, calling back over her shoulder that the booze was in the kitchen and the other two were to help themselves. She snapped her head back towards the guest room and gave her hips an exaggerated sway – not that Pinky, the fist guest, needed the encouragement.

They stepped into the dark room and Janet turned on the single, dim bulb of the night light, ten turned back to face the short, stocky man.

"First," she said, "let's make you comfortable. Let me help."

She came over to him and ran her hands over his wide shoulders, then slipped around behind him. Her arms went around his waist from behind and she undid the button of his jacket and pulled it off him.

Then she came up close to him from the front and opened the knot of his necktie, letting just the tips of her breasts graze him through the thin fabric of the top she wore.

His breath was coming faster and she began opening the collar of his shirt and undid the long row of buttons leading down the front. She let her fingers, nimble and sure, hesitate a split second and then tugged his shirt out of his pants and opened the last three buttons. A moment later and he stood before her in his T-shirt. Her hands went to his waist and lifted the cotton high over his head. He was covered with an incredibly thick mat of dark hair.

Quickly then, her hands went to his belt, unbuckling it, then teasingly opening his zipper. The pants fell down his massive legs, laying in a heap about his ankles.

Her thumbs hooked in the elastic waistband of his briefs. As she lowered them, she brought herself lower in a crouch.

Suddenly, the bulge in his briefs sprang free. His crotch jabbed out, hitting her in the forehead. She continued dragging the briefs lower, but this time let her lips run down along the flesh of his huge thigh. She could feel the tension in his body as she pulled the clothing off his feet.

She kissed her way back up the other leg, then began running her fingers up and down within the insides of his thighs, letting her fingernails lightly graze his scrotum as her lips worked ever closer to his cock.

His dick was almost as long as her husband's, but not as thick.

Her lips went through his thick pubic mat, then began working over the sensitive flesh around the base of his hard dick. Closer and closer and closes and… Suddenly, powerful hands were at the sides of her head.

"Lick it, baby, lick my dick!" he rasped. She did as she was told. Her tongue flickered out and began laying the sides of his shaft with rapid, wet, feather touch movements. A growl of appreciation came from the man's chest and his hips jerked forward. His fingers remained entwined in her hair, holding her where he directed her.

Slowly, she worked her way out towards the end of his cock. Her hands moved over the tip, gingerly pulling back his foreskin to expose the glistening, swollen knob.

He moved her head again and this time her lips were against the glans. She murmured silently against it, and she could feel the answering throbs from within his taut, thick body.

He pressed his hips forward, the head of his cock probing urgently against her luscious, full lips. Finally, she relented, opening her mouth and sucking just the head of his dick inside.

It felt good and exciting to have this man's prick inside her mouth, and the excitement made her adventurous. She closed her lips tightly about the shaft and sucked mightily on the head of his prick, all the time twirling her tongue around and around the sensitive, purplish flesh of his knob.

His hips were jerking powerfully, his cock moving in and out of her mouth. "More baby, more! Eat it all!"

He pushed his hips forward and his cock rushed in, filling her mouth completely. She stretched her mouth open as much as she could, straining. He kept pushing and the knob of his dick hit the back of her throat. Her first impulse was to gag, but she knew that she could do it. She'd been able to eat Koenig's dick and his was bigger.

Tilting her head on her neck, Janet sucked in a deep breath through her nose and pushed her mouth forward. Bit by bit, his penis slid into her mouth. The knob caught for an instant on the curve at the back of her throat and then pushed beyond, down into her gullet.

She could feel the head of his cock throbbing in her throat, feel the pulsations rippling along the length of it as he pushed more and more of his dick inside her hot, warm, sucking mouth. She was eager for it, wanted it, wanted to milk all of the hot cum from this strange, hard, hairy man's balls.

Greedily, she swallowed him down into her throat and began fingering his balls. His hips heaved and then she had it all, right to the hairs. Her nose was pressed tightly against his abdomen and she swallowed every inch of his dick.

Janet began bobbing her head back and forth, up and down, freeing half the length of his dick, only to suck it back down her gullet once again. Going faster with each stroke, she continued sucking with all her might on him. She could tell that he was near to coming, and she craved the taste of it flooding her throat.

Suddenly he let go. With a growl of passion, his hips flailed at her face and then she felt his balls jerking in their sac, felt the pulsating swellings of sperm through his cock and then felt the hot, thick rush of his jism gushing down her warm, receptive throat.

She hummed deep in her throat. He felt the vibrations on his dick, even as she swallowed on his cock, massaging it, milking it of his creamy cum.

His spasms slowed and stopped and he withdrew his dick from her mouth and throat. She held onto the glans for a moment, licking and sucking it feverishly before releasing it with an audible pop. His dick dangled limply in front of her face.

Jeff slipped into his clothes, zipped himself and left the room. Janet found herself strangely exhausted by the bout. Wearily, she climbed to her feet and stripped off her top and shorts. Then she sprawled out on the bed, face down, and waited for the next one.

She didn't have long to wait. It seemed like no time at all before she became aware that someone was climbing onto the bed beside her. Pinky. He already had his clothes off and he was turning her over onto her back.

Pinky was not a man who bothered with preliminaries. He flipped Janet over onto her back, reached down to spread her thighs wide apart, put one hand down to grip his cock and guide it to her wet, wide open pussy. Then he pushed.

"Ooohh!" she grunted as she felt his dick pressing into her. His prick was large, thick and heavy and long and rigid. He drove half of it into her cunt, withdrew all but the head, then drove the entire length of it into her.

She felt his glans probing far inside her, stretching her innermost passions. It felt so good to have a man's meat throbbing far inside her hot cunt!

Janet bucked and heaved beneath Pinky's pile-driving erection. As he reared and plunged above her, she writhed and thrashed beneath him, the two of them battering their loins at one another urgently. His hands gradually worked down along the length of her perspiration-slicked body, coming to rest, finally, beneath her full ass cheeks, his fingers digging into the soft spheres of flesh with merciless strength. He pulled her up to him, dragging her to meet his every downstroke as his tempo increased. She could feel his big balls slapping up against her ass as she flung her long, shapely legs wantonly apart to accept the powerful surges of his thrusts.

Suddenly, his dick swelled still farther within her. Pinky went rigid above her, his cock locked inside her just as her own vaginal muscles clenched on him. Even as her honey channel began to undulate and spasm on his cock, she felt his prick jerking and then spitting deep inside her.

Wave after wave of thick hot cum poured into her depths, filling and flooding her. She felt the weight of his jism as it burned home inside her, splashing her insides and sending bolts of ecstasy through her orgasmic frenzies. Janet gasped and her body arched, lifting Pinky's short, stocky mass with her own demonic strength. He was supported above her, his cock still buried inside her, locked within her.

Just as she felt herself begin climbing towards another orgasm, Pinky's dick began to wilt inside her. The spitting spasms of spunk slowed and stopped, and his cock went limp, shriveling up smaller and smaller in her cunt. Her legs came up and locked around his waist, impaling her more tightly on his dick, trying desperately to hold it inside her. Her heels battered at his powerful ass cheeks, trying ineffectually to beat more life into him.

But it was hopeless. He disengaged himself and stood beside the bed, swaying slightly as he looked down at her.

Janet lay on the bed, legs far apart, knees bent, her hand between her thighs and her fingers working feverishly. She kneaded and rubbed her pussy lips, her hands working at her stiffened clitoris, her fingers pushing inside her cunt, trying frantically to get at the itch, the need, deep, deep inside her.

Pinky grinned lasciviously and staggered from the room, still naked, his dick dangling and flapping obscenely against his naked thighs with each step as he strode down the hallway to summon the last of the trio – Don.

The slim, dapper man stepped into the guest bedroom and stood before Janet's naked, writhing form. He looked down at her and he saw a picture of undiluted lust. She lay there, naked, legs widespread, hands between fingers working at her cunt in mindless passion. From between the abused lips of her pussy drooled a steady stream of overflowing sperm from the previous user, and that only made Don want her hot cunt the more.

Janet saw Don standing before her through lust-hazed eyes and groaned. His ears mistook the sound for that of eagerness. In reality, it was despair. She wanted a man's cock in her cunt, she wanted a cock that was longer and thicker and heavier and full of more cum than she had ever held before. Nothing less would ease the itch far back inside her cunt and womb.

But the man she saw standing before her, the man who was grinning stupidly and slowly beginning to strip off his clothing was too short and slender and wiry to possess such a weapon. His prick could only whet her appetite the more. She dug her fingers into her cunt with renewed vigor, closing her eyes and thrashing about on the bed.

She closed her eyes and abandoned herself to the knowing manipulations of her hands. She arched and writhed, thighs trembling.

Then she felt Don's small hands on her ankles, sliding down over her calves to catch behind her knees. He lifted her legs high, forcing her hips to arch up towards him. Something brushed the back of her thighs as he hooked her long legs over his slim shoulders. She opened her eyes and looked down between her legs.

It was his penis. And as far as Janet was concerned, it was like some pornographer's dream come true.

His penis was huge, freakishly oversized. His cock was easily a foot long, perhaps longer, and as he reached down and put his fingers on it, she saw that it was so thick he couldn't even come close to encircling it. He rubbed the huge, golf-ball-sized head of it up and down between her slick, cum-slickened pussy lips and she suddenly felt a twinge of fear. He was hung like a home! She soon began to doubt her ability to accept such a monster in her cunt.

But it was too late for hesitations. Don was pressing the gigantic knob of his dick between her pussy lips, lodging it in place. He shifted his hands down and around beneath her, gripping her ass tightly.

He pushed forward, slowly, but relentlessly. She felt the pressure of that massive glans between her legs, forcing itself inside her. Her legs were driven slowly apart.

No, she thought, no, there's no way! "I can't take it! It's too much, too much, too much, it's too much," she gasped. And then she let go a loud shriek of agony as the head of his dick wedged through the constricted entry of her twat.

"Aaaiiee!"

His cock head felt like a ball of rock jammed between her legs. The walls of her cunt were screaming with agony at the strain upon them, stretched far out of shape. She hadn't known such pain since she'd given birth to her daughter.

Don held his position for a moment, breathing deeply. He'd nearly resigned himself to giving up the attempt at penetration of her sweet cunt and reverting to having himself sucked off. That was the way it was all the time, and had been ever since he'd been a kid. No woman had ever been able to accept his massive dick in her twat, not since he was twelve. But then the knob had gone in and for the first time he'd begun the think of having a woman the way he wanted.

He pushed forward again feeling the terrible friction on his cock from the horribly stretched walls of her tight cunt. She was so hot and warm and tight, and he could feel her interior muscles moving on him, seeming to suck him in still deeper at the same time as she wailed for release from her suffering.

Janet felt his cock moving deeper inside her, felt the thick shaft slipping slowly, by torturous fractions of an inch into her slit. The pain was growing more bearable, and as she thought of the enormous weapon that was being sheathed in her quim, as she visualized that thick, rope-veined mast driving between her tautly stretched pussy lips, a low small groan of pleasure escaped her. This was the dick that could fill her pussy itch the way it needed to be filled.

"Look at this, will you!"

The voice was a shock, breaking into her mind, her thoughts as they swirled around the pole of the enormous dick slipping into her cunt. Her eyes flickered open, and she saw two men moving towards the bed, pausing at each side of Don as he continued pouring his penis into her. They looked down at the fantastic joining and began talking about it in amazed tones.

Six inches of that huge weapon were inside of her when she felt something pushing her legs farther apart and realized that it was his cock head, wedging up between her legs farther. Her calves came to the ends of his shoulders and then her legs slipped down into the cradle of Don's arms.

But then she felt hands on her legs – two hands to each long, shapely limb. They were holding her legs up and apart, stretching them out straight and pulling them wide as he pushed more of his huge cock into her slot.

And still, there was more to come!

She felt the glans of his cock batter against her cervix, slamming painfully against the pinpoint iris opening deep inside her. But Janet was no more satisfied with what she had already received than, Don was with what he had given. She had become obsessed with the idea of having his tremendous member buried completely inside her. She began thrusting her cunt onto his cock, trying to cause that tiny opening inside her widen and permit his cock entry.

She felt him making fractional progress against her, his shaft slipping forward a quarter, perhaps a half-inch.

Don withdrew his member an inch then slammed forward with all his strength.

Janet let loose a scream as she felt the huge glans smashing past the opening barrier of her cervix and lodging inside her. Suddenly, she could feel the release of pressure as his glans made it completely through the little opening. All in a rush, the rest of Don's dick slid into her cunt.

They lay there, breathing harshly. For the first time in his adult, life, Don knew what it was like to have a woman's vaginal walls coating his cock, clinging to it's entire length like an incredibly tight sheath, a sheath that was wet and hot and alive with spasms of powerful muscular contractions. He could feel her cervical opening closing and opening about his shaft with each breath she took and he groaned at the feelings she was giving him.

At the same time, Janet felt that long, thick piece of male meat laying totally buried inside her, pulsating angrily against the instinctive squeezings of her hard-working cunt. Her clitoris was tightly pulled against the broad back of his thick shaft and she knew that at any moment she would… "Oh, GAWD!" she yelled, and suddenly convulsed around the pinion of Don's dick. Her hips writhed as much as they could with such a huge piece of flesh and bone and muscle and gristle wedged inside, but her interior muscles were doing a dance of sheer joy over the length of Don's huge cock.

Don exhaled as deeply as he could and forced himself to relax. He was determined not to come yet, not till he'd savored to the fullest the wonderful sensations he was enjoying.

The three men were saying something that Janet couldn't quite make out. But then she became aware that they were doing something with her legs.

"Oooooo…" The sound oozed out of her as they twisted her legs close together and then began turning her as if she were impaled on that enormous male member perforating her vagina. With her legs spread less widely, it seemed as if Don's tremendous dick was reaching all the way up to her stomach and her breath began to come in quick gasps. Her breasts heaved as she attained yet another orgasm, her second since the bout with the three men began.

She was on her side, both legs curled together to one side, Don working his dick in and out of her vagina. She felt the bed shifting as someone lowered himself to the mattress behind her. She felt a stiff cock brush against her ass cheeks and involuntarily shivered, her vagina clutching more powerfully on Don's dick.

Don was grasping her ankle, lifting her left leg. As she lay, it was the uppermost of her two legs, and as he held her legs apart, he carefully twisted and somehow managed to end up laying beside her, facing her, his mammoth cock still sheathed inside her cunt.

Don arranged himself so that her right leg was stretched out straight and her left leg was draped over his waist. His dick was still locked inside her gyrating cunt and as they lay there, he began, once again, stoking in and out of her.

At flint his strokes were slow and cautious, but as he felt her inner muscles responding to the stimulation, he became bolder and began pumping her cunt rapidly, more strongly.

Janet moaned as she felt the man behind her, Pinky, doing something between the cheeks of her ass. And then she realized that he was dry humping in the furrow between her rich, full buttocks. Soon, her entire body was jerking in response to Don's powerful strokes in her twat. She let herself be caught up in the rhythm of the fucking pumping her hips as fast as she could in her position.

But then she felt the head of Pinky's cock rubbing against the tightly puckered ring of her anus. It felt strange and a bit frightening and exciting. Each movement of her hips in reply to Don's fucking machine strokes spread her ass cheeks and exposed the little puckered opening to Pinky's view.

Somehow, he managed to wedge the head of his dick against the ring. His hands went to her hips, steadying her against Don's demented pumping for a moment. Pinky tensed his hips and then lunged forward, burying the head and half the length of his cock shaft in her tight ass.

Janet cut loose a piercing shriek of pain. Her ass, seldom so brutally used, felt as if it were being torn in two, as if it were about to split open and would send torrents of blood and gore streaming over her lovely legs.

Pinky seemed, unaware of her pain. He continued pushing his dick forward, working it steadily deeper into the young housewife's narrow channel.

The stretching was made the worse by the fact Don's huge cock was buried in her vagina. She could feel every bump, every knob, every vein in Pinky's swollen dick as it probed ever farther into her.

With a last great lunge, he sheathed the last inch of his prick in her ass. Pinky's stomach was pressed tightly against her ass, flattening the soft globes of creamy flesh.

Janet just lay there, sandwiched between the two men, sobbing deep in her chest. With Don's tremendous cock buried to the roots in her cunt and Pinky's fat penis shoved all the way up her ass, she found even breathing difficult. She could feel the throbbing of those two male members clearly as they pressed against one another and the single, thin membrane separating her twin channels and stretched her inner walls of cunt and ass with their demanding volume.

Don's stroking picked up in urgency once again and Janet sucked in a deep breath as she felt that enormous length and thickness of cock shaft and glans bulging through the tight tunnel of her vagina.

But then, a strange thing began to happen. Janet's eyes were tightly closed, and she envisioned the three, of them – herself, Don and Pinky – laying on the bed, locked tightly together. The sheer decadence and wantonness of what she was doing came to her.

Not only was she fucking a strange man with a huge dick, not only was she taking a strange man up her ass, but she was taking on both of them at in her own home!

A thrill of wildness went through her as she felt Don begin driving his dick back up her vagina, the big glans prodding its way once more though the dilated opening of her cervix.

The friction in her ass was still excruciating, but as Pinky began moving gingerly within, she realized that already her rear entry had begun to accommodate itself to the fearsome stretching and that there was some secretion within that rarely used opening that was coating Pinky's stumpy dick and rendering the passage easier.

Gradually, Pinky's strokes were growing bolder, less inhibited. He was working his dick in and out of her ass, running that thick member through her asshole with more freedom.

Don, pumping furiously away, was battering at Janet from the front. Even heave of his loins sent his monster cock slamming up into the welcoming grasp of her vaginal channel and at the same time drove her back the more strongly onto Pinky's dick.

The pain had faded almost completely, and once again Janet became aware of the intense pleasures coming to her from the penis burrowing into her from the front. Don's thick cock was chafing her clitoris almost painfully, the broad back of the shaft rubbing against the sensitive nubbin with every stroke.

The pleasures were becoming increasingly intense, all amplified by the knowledge of the wild orgy in which she'd willingly involved herself and the wonderful sensations of being stuffed so thoroughly fore and aft by the two horny men.

Janet began to writhe between them, to buck and heave, but this time it was with willing eagerness and not in ii vain attempt to free herself from the twin weapons impaling her so completely.

She felt the bed shift again and then opened her eyes to find Jeff kneeling on the bedspread. He was positioning himself so that his half-stiffened dick was pointing ominously at her face.

Without hesitating, without thinking, Janet leaned her head forward. Her tongue flickered out and the tip began to toy with the soft glans of Jeff's dick.

Grinning evilly, he pushed his hips forward. Janet's tongue went beneath the knob and lifted it.

Her open lips fastened onto the velvety textured glans. She sucked it into her mouth, cheeks concaving with the effort. Jeff's entire pelvis came forward as if her mouth was sucking his body forward.

The half-hard length of his cock squeezed comfortably inside her mouth and Janet began moving her tongue from side to side, slavering the limp member. At the same time, she let her saliva swirl about it, a warm, viscous flood that washed over his dick even as she sucked on it with powerful, regular heaves.

Within her mouth she could feel the blood flowing into Jeff's cock. It swelled within the confines of her lips and throat and jaws, growing steadily stronger, thicker, longer. But Janet refused to relinquish any part of it in her now completely unbridled passions.

As Jeff's dick grew more potent she continued to suck on it. Glans, growing thicker and harder, began to prod insistently at the back of her throat. At first, it seemed that she might gag on the bulk of flesh and gristle and muscle and blood. But Janet was determined to do it, to have it inside her all the way.

She gulped and swallowed and then the head of Jeff's dick was slowly making its way down into her gullet. Janet sucked and swallowed for all she was worth, taking his prick deeper and deeper into her oral passageway.

She tightened her throat on it, massaging his penis with her contractions. She allowed down on his cock, and it felt to Jeff as if she were milking his prick like a cow's udder. But then, finding the morsel too large for swallowing, tried to eject it. The muscles contracted again in a different sequence, this time from the bottom up, and it felt to Jeff like she was alternately tugging down and pushing up on his penis.

Jeff reached down and put his hands on either side of Janet's head, holding it as he heaved his hips forward. Janet sucked air desperately as she felt his abdomen press up tightly against her nose, felt his pubic hair tickling her upper lips, felt his balls swing gently forward to warm her chin, felt her lips pried wide apart to accommodate the thick base of his dick.

Even as she was struggling to regain control of her breathing Jeff began fucking in and out of her mouth as if it were a warm, tight, sucking cunt – and then it hit her.

She was laying on the bed in her own home with one huge cock rammed to the depths of her cunt, another jammed completely to the hairs in her ass, and still a third crammed completely into her mouth and throat. All of them were doing her, fucking her, using her.

And she loved it!

Janet was no longer able to hide this side of her nature from herself, no longer able to repress it, no longer able to avoid facing the fact. She loved sex, loved fucking, loved being used, loved having cock filling every available orifice.

She moaned deep in her throat, the vibrations transferring themselves directly to the hard, thick dick she sucked. Jeff felt those vibrations and threw whatever inhibitions remained to the winds. He began pumping his hips, stroking his cock in and out of her sucking mouth as if it were a gaping pussy. His glans rubbed the taut ridges in her throat, sending shivers of excitement coursing through his body from his dick outward.

Don, laying on his side, was pumping his rigid member in and out of her cunt without regard to the pain his freakishly sized dick might be causing. He could feel the spasming contractions of her cunt on him and was fighting to control himself, to make it last as long as possible, but the fight wasn't made any easier by the sensations of Pinky's prick swelling back and forth through the sheath of Janet's tight ass. Pinky leaned backwards, his hands on her buttocks, spreading them so he could peer down in the dim illumination and actually see the rude stump of his cock tunneling in and out of the mightily stretched aperture of her once tiny anus.

The three men were toiling over her, her expert openings milking and sucking and squeezing and working at them, trying to summon the torrential outpouring of thick hot cream that she seemed to crave with every wriggle, every heave, every shudder of her elegantly curved body.

Her breath was coming faster, her muscles contracting. And then she began to jerk and spasm. Her body went rigid, taut as a drawn violin string. But her inner muscles, all of them – throat, ass, cunt – were working spastically at the three cocks.

From somewhere around the base of her throat, a strange sound not unlike the tearing of cardboard emanated. She began to shake like one with a fever chill, rattling between the three men. Then her body began to undulate, starting at her head as she ducked her face forward, once again taking every last inch of Jeff's dick far back into her throat, then down to her belly and hips, jerking forward onto the massive pinion of Don's cock. She began stiffening backwards and sending her ass plummeting down to absorb all of Pinky's thick prick.

Everything fled Janet's mind as she came again and again and again, lost in a single, unbroken flow of continuous orgasmic frenzy. All that was left in her consciousness was the thought of cocks – hard cocks, long cocks, thick cocks, rigid cocks, cock swollen with blood, throbbing cocks, stiff cocks, cocks that pierced her to the vitals.

She could feel the tension in Jeff's balls coming first, and suddenly, all she wanted was to taste cum, torrents of it, to feel it all over and through her, filling her and then some till it overflowed her and drenched her skin.

She sucked the harder on his dick, lost in her world of lustful pleasures. Her tongue did a mad dance over the shaft filling her mouth while the muscles of her throat and gullet went wild on his head. His hips shuddered, his balls jerked upwards in their fleshy sac – and he finally began to empty his load deep into her wide-open throat.

She felt the cum pouring into her stomach and her cuntal and anal muscles contracted in ecstatic harmony. Pinky, unable to restrain himself any longer, let go a long, low groan of utter surrender, slammed his hips forward as if he could somehow get still more of his dick into the glove-tight passage and then felt his balls convulse as they fired gobs and gobs of his pent-up load into the depths of Janet's bowels.

Don, feeling the spasms of Pinky's dick on his own penis through the single thin membrane separating them as clearly as if Pinky's member were his own, finally went limp and began pouring his vast quantity of too-long unreleased spunk out into Janet's cunt and womb. Spurt after spurt of steaming cum gushed into her.

Janet felt each coming as clearly as if it were the only prick she were taking on instead of being but one member of a trio of members. She felt the streams of hot jism pouring into her gullet and belly from Jeff's cock, the torrents unleashed to cling and burn her bowels and ass from Pinky's dick, and the floods, the cloudburst abundance of Don's spunk filling her womb and overflowing her cunt.

The individual swellings, throbs and spasms of each cock were, each to itself, sufficient to send her to a peak, but the three combined were more than she could bear.

Jeff, the last explosions upon him, began to pull his dick out of her throat. Reflexively, Janet locked her lips lightly about his shaft in the depressed ring just behind his flange. She continued to suck on his cock as if it were a mother's tit, twirling her tongue about it and swallowing as fast as she could. Still, it was too much for her and a single great gob of sticky semen streamed out around her luscious lips to drip off her cheek onto the bed sheet.

Pinky's abundant flow had overfilled her ass. The extra was already backing up in the tight constriction of her anal trail, becoming a creamy froth about the dick sheathed in her rear opening, drooling over his thighs and her ass cheek.

But Don – his ejaculation was so copious and overwhelming that the cum had already overflowed her womb and was oozing back up the terrible length of his thick weapon so that each spurt he launched into her depths sent a corresponding spurt of frothy overflow out the brutally stretched lips of her tender pussy.

And all the time she writhed and shook and shuddered and wriggled, covered with her perspiration and the sweat of the three rough men using her for their pleasure, becoming soaked with the slippery overflow of their triple dose of cum and the secretions of her own body.

She wanted to scream out her pleasure, but she couldn't bring herself to relinquish the already limpening cock she sucked. Slowly, at first, then faster, all of the sensations, all of the grunts and groans and moans and heavings and shakings began to recede from her consciousness and she could almost see a great ball of red passion growing inside her mind, in the back of her closed eyelids, a ball that rushed ever closer, as if she were falling into it.

It came closer, closer, and finally exploded into a blackness as the sheer pleasure of it all sent Janet tumbling into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER NINE

Tom whirled at the touch of a hand on his shoulder. The face he saw was dark, swarthy, heavily bearded. The man's eyes were barely slits and his nose had been broken a few times. His lips showed an ugly scar that continued down his chin.

"We're almost done, mister," the man growled. "Just the stuff in the guest bedroom and…"

"Yeah, sure, thanks," Tom muttered. The moving crew was good, efficient and careful. It was almost noon and already the house was stripped of nearly all the furniture.

He turned in the bare living room. Penny was directing two huge, burly men. She was wearing shorts and a halter, showing off her nubile charms, and neither of the moving men was missing the show. Penny seemed to be enjoying it. But Tom wasn't worried. His little girl had a hell of a lot more maturity than she had any right to have. She'd proven that when they'd told her.

He looked back through the bare living room, shook his head sadly. They'd worked hard, sacrificed a lot to get the house, and now they were leaving it. He'd worked hard, too, sacrificing a lot to get where he'd gotten in the company. And he was leaving that, too. The new house was smaller, the paychecks from the new job would be smaller, too. But it would be worth it.

A fresh start. A new town, a new job, new friends. It was worth it to keep his family together.

So many changes in two days.

But it was essential. The loan shark's man had made it clear that Tom's credit was good. Especially considering the quality of his collateral – Janet. He'd almost bolted for a game right then and there, but had somehow managed to restrain himself.

It had been difficult, doing what the people at Gamblers Anonymous suggested. But he knew they were right. They'd told him what he'd already known – there was only one way to even have a chance.

A fresh start. A new town. A new job. New friends.

Telling Penny had been the hardest part. That and knowing that something had changed in Janet, something that had changed during her evening and night entertaining the three men. She didn't want to talk about it.

Probably to spare my feelings, he thought. Where is she, anyway?

Tom wandered outside, squinting against the bright sun glare. "Janet?" he called loudly. "JA-NET!"

He was just turning to step back into the house and ask Penny when she called to him from outside. He turned. She was leaping nimbly down from the back of the moving truck.

"Here I am! Just helping them get the bedroom stuff in place, honey!"

He smiled, nodded. She looked good, the better because she was obviously unaware that her tube-type halter was a bit askew, showing a little more of her sumptuous left tit than she intended. And he couldn't help but be turned on at the way her tight cut-off's clung to her hips, her taut abdomen and the sweet, ripe curve of her firm ass. She was a sexy woman, and he couldn't help taking a bit of pride in the hungry looks the moving crew kept casting her way and their faint smiles towards him, smiles of envy.

Janet hesitated behind the truck, turned and smiled into the darkness within the back. The husky piano mover was just stuffing his drained cock back into his pants, leering at her and ginning. But he was, she reflected, a hell of a fucker. He'd poured gobs of juice into her cunt. She could feel it sloshing around inside her.

As she walked towards the house, feeling the eyes of the men who hadn't yet had their turn following her ass, Janet wondered if her husband perceived any change in her attitude towards him since she'd decided to fuck all she wanted.

Content

David St Martin
Loaned wife

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE